Throbbing clitoris. Labia spread and inviting. The ridiculous, bubbling mass of wetness squelching beneath each touch of my wooden tormentor. Smashing...hard again and again and again, hips thrusting up to meet each blow, knees twitching closed before dragging themselves wide once more, arse cheeks dragging themselves raw on willow spikes. Yet still, I want more. Need more. Demand more. Still, the hurt, the pain, the suffering, the red welts and brilliant bruises are not enough. Never enough.. I wanted to turn around and go back to my room but my Mom was giving me a sign with her finger inviting me to come to her so we could talk about whatI saw. I could'nt lie she knew what I've done. So we went downstairs to thekitchen and she poured me a glass of milk. Trying to explain to me what I'veseen but I've interrupted her and told her that I knew what they were doingbecause I've saw Dads tapes before. She handed me my pjs, but saw that there was a bit of precum so she putthem in the. More

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