Mother my slave - Sex Stories

Mother my slave

... cable through the eyebolt in the ceiling and down to the footboard. Setting on the footboard of his s****r's bed Roger barked menacingly, “MOMMY, COME HERE.” Groaning in misery the thirty-eight-year-old mother shimmied and squirmed on her tortured nipples and breasts over to her son. “Mommy, present those boobies that belong to me!” Joan struggled up on to her knees before her sadistic son. She shuttered in fear as her son lassoed her left breasts with a length of cotton clothesline. After pulling the loop snuggly around the base of her left breast her son did the same with another length of clothesline around the base of her right breast. With horror Joan watched her son stand up on the foot of her daughter's bed with the two lines lassoing her breasts and the winch's cable. Her son threaded the line lassoing her left breast through the eyebolt screwed in to the right footboard post and the right breast line through the left footboard post's eyebolt. Now the two breasts lines were crossed. He then secured the two crossed breasts lines to the wench's cable. With an evil smirk on his face Roger got off the bed and went to the wall mounted wench. He set the wench to the hoist position and turned the handle. Mrs. Joan Peterson spit out her chew toy and screamed at the top of her lungs as she felt the two clothes lines lassoing her breasts tighten, “OH GOD NO! PLEASE DON'T! PLEASE ROGER PLEASE DON'T DO THIS TO YOUR OWN MOTHER! PLEASE ROGER!” Roger didn't stop. He continued to ...

... crank the wench's handle. The two clotheslines became tighter and tighter and tighter. The bases of Joan's breasts were squished to one-third of there normal circumference. This took all of slack out of the thirty-eight-year-old woman breasts tissue. They no longer laid droopily on her chest. Instead they stuck out from her chest like two over ripe cantaloupes. Though the crushing of the bases of her breasts was very painful it wasn't near the agonizing pain that roared through her newly created minitits and nipples as their skin was stretched taunt as her breasts ballooned. At bad as the pain in her ballooned breasts was it was at a level that the thirty-eight-year-old mother could tolerate. It was far less painful then having her breasts whipped with the wire clothes hanger. Not only were her breasts squeezed in to two tight balloons they were also pulled upward towards the tops of the footboard posts. And with the two lines crossed her breasts were pulled towards each other. Joan strain hard to thrush her snared breasts upward to relive some of the painful strain on them. Though she prayed that her son would release her breasts she knew he would not. Joan let out a small sigh of relief when her evil son stopped turning the wench's handle. The thirty-eight-year-old mother watched her s*******n-year-old son climb up on her daughter's bed. He knelt before her sperm coated face. His eight-inch bone stiff cock bobbing across her lips. Reluctantly Joan lanced her tongue out and ...