Lectern

Don Milligan cleared his throat as he stood before the assembled audience. As Professor of Bondage Studies at the University he had given many lectures but each one still excited him. It wasn't just so many young minds waiting for information or to be impressed with new ideas: it was the sheer pleasure of talking about his life's work.

'Good afternoon all,' the man said with a clear voice as he regarded the hundred or so students gathered in the lecture theater. There had never been a shortage of students willing to sign up for his lectures and in fact could have filled a larger hall, such was the interest in what he taught. It never surprised him so many came to study the subject but it still seemed to surprise the University Board who regarded such things as less acceptable than the Sciences or established Arts. But in the world of Academia jealousy was always rife, so why should it be different here? The fact that crowded into the hall were some of the leading professors from other departments and disciplines always made Milligan smile the most. Whatever anyone said about his subject, no one questioned his ability to give lively and interesting lectures

'I want to talk today about child bondage.' The man waited patiently while the resulting outbreak of excited whispers and comments subsided. 'It is a subject that draws considerable interest, either for or against. In fact the whole argument in legal and social circles over what constitutes acceptability in restraining children - whether for their own good or the pleasure of adults - focuses on the background to human desire and the resolution of that desire...'

The professor talked on, knowing that his words were holding the audience spellbound (he always liked that word) and illustrating his lecture with clear photographic slides and even short videos of children in bondage. He talked about techniques and "quality" of bondage, covering such aspects as gags and chains, nakedness and punishments while tied up. And throughout he never quite lost the smile on his face.

Beneath the large lectern, hidden from the rest of the lecture hall by the solid oak panel sides, was six year old Kimberley. Don Milligan only knew the girl as that, never knew her last name - or indeed where his assistant acquired little girls like this. He never asked but was glad they were there: the careful positioning of a small naked girl was perfect as stimulus for the man to deliver the best lectures he could.

Kimberley was tied up very well - Milligan expected nothing less from his capable female assistant. The child had her arms pinned behind her, wrists crossed and arms tied to her upper body, though her wrist rope was conducted under her crotch and tied tightly to the ropes that crossed her flat chest, squeezing the girl's small nipples where they peeked between the strands of rope. The child's legs were tightly bound and cinched and her slender little body was tied in place with cords that ran to a number of restraining lugs set into the inside of the lectern. Kimberley whoever-she-was simply couldn't move from where she stood, hidden to all but the professor.

But the real delight for the man was the fact that the child wasn't gagged, except by his cock. Usually Milligan thoroughly approved of devices to stop a child talking, things that could be packed into a little girl's mouth or sealed in to keep them quiet. But like this a gag would not have been what he wanted. The man's thick cock was deep in the child's mouth, keeping her quiet in the best way he knew. It would have been enough for him to saw back and forth, a small movement in his hips would be enough to excite him. But the child was here to work, not him. Around the little girl's neck was a loop of cord attached to a spring so if Kimberley moved her head forward the cord tightened on her throat. As she had been trained to move her head back and forward when a man's cock was in her mouth she knew what was required of her: she may only be six but she understood fully what her role was, how she had to suck and move at the same time to excite the man. Kimberley dutifully bobbed her head back and forth, feeling the cord tighten and then relax on her thin little neck tighten as she sucked the man's large, stiff cock.

Professor Milligan could have come very easily like that. But he had trained himself to hold back so as to extend the maximum time he could enjoy being sucked by a child, deferring almost continually the moment of climax. Of course, when he did Kimberley would drink it all down silently and then continue to tongue and lick the man's shrinking dick until it would harden again. And like all of her well-trained kind, Kimberley looked up at the man as she did her task, innocent blue eyes looking for his approval.

Milligan though didn't look down. He had no need to. All he had to do was deliver the lecture and smile at those listening to him. Now all he had to do, to make the child work harder (and suffer more) was ease his hips back an inch or two. The well bound girl beneath the lectern struggled to keep her action going so the cord at her neck bit deeper and tighter. Had Milligan looked down as the girl struggled painfully to bring him to a climax and drink his cum he would have seen her large eyes bulging at the effort and the way she was almost being strangled.

As the last slide came on the screen, a naked four year old girl bound spread-eagle on a bed with legs apart and small slit on show, smiling at the camera with semen dribbling from her cuntlet and from her lips, more semen puddled on her chest and belly, whip marks on her legs and tummy and a gag in handy reach of whoever might want to silence her, Milligan eased his hips back a full six inches so Kimberley groaned as she almost strangled herself to reach him. The man gave the smallest gasp as he came into Kimberley's mouth, pumping his semen down her restricted throat.

That final slide (or a variation of it) always did it for him. A picture of his daughter on a bed, taken barely two hours ago. That and the knowledge his daughter would be waiting for him to return after the lecture, so he could finish using her and punishing her.

Weekend Prison

'Go on up,' Sharon Kenning said to her daughter, Lisa, through the open window of the car. 'They're waiting for you.'

'No, mom, I can't,' said Lisa, standing close to the car, not quite fully on the sidewalk. She had tears in her eyes and Sharon noticed.

'Honey,' said the mother. 'You can! You know we agreed this. For your own good.'

Lisa nodded, trying to be as brave an eleven year old as she could be. One hand gripped the heavy duty rubberized orange fabric of her dress at her stomach - probably the only place it had enough slack to allow to get hold of it.

'You do understand, don't you, Lisa?' Sharon said as warmly as she could. 'And it isn't forever. Just a few weekends, while you get straightened out.'

'I know, mom. It's just that... I'm scared.'

'I know you are, Lisa. But you know I can't do anything about it all now. Look, if you are good - very good - you remember that they give you time off for good behavior. So, you just have to be very good for them. Okay?' The woman looked up to the house behind her daughter. It was an unpreposing house, just another in an average, pleasant neighborhood. No sign it was a weekend prison for girls.

'I didn't mean to steal that money,' said the girl, barely holding back the tears, shaking as she suppressed her sobs. 'If you let me back in the car, take me home, I promise I'll be good. Always.'

Sharon's heart almost melted at the sight of her child's tears, at her obvious distress. For a half-second she almost threw the door open and told her daughter to get back in. Almost told her it didn't matter, that she was forgiven for her thieving.

Almost gave in, but not quite.

'Honey,' Sharon stiffened the resolve in herself. 'You have to be punished. We agreed. It's only ten weekends: it's not much. You'll be home Sunday evening, so it's only 48 hours away from home. And they will look after you. I met the ladies up at the...' The woman hesitated, not wanting to say "weekend prison" but couldn't think of anything but "place" and it seemed inadequate. 'I met them up at the, uh, place,' Sharon continued. 'They're kind people. You won't be hurt. It's just like a place to stay awhile.'

'I've got to be there ages. Months!'

'Only at weekends', corrected Sharon, a little impatiently. She was anxious to go, scared that her daughter would do something stupid though she couldn't think what.

Lisa snorted and indicated her bright orange full-length dress. 'What about this.... outfit? You forget I have to wear... this... this weird thing!'

'I haven't forgotten, Lisa! But there are rules,' said Sharon, firmly. 'You wear that dress in there.'

'But it's this weird rubber stuff. And it's hot in here.' The girl held her arms out a little, to show the way it clung to her: long skirt, long sleeves and was fastened up to the high neck collar with a zipper in the back. Apart from her head and hands, there was no part visible of the girl. The thick rubberized fabric bent when she moved but not much. She looked awkward and uncomfortable in it. But then, like so many girls, she was used to jeans and lightweight tops. She wasn't even used to wearing a dress, except reluctantly on special occasions.

'I explained to you, Lisa. The dress is like that to keep you warm all the time.'

'It's not warm. It's hot in this!' objected the girl.

'Maybe, but it's practical, that's all. That's the way they do it up there at... the place.'

'I look like a prisoner in it!'

'You are,' said the woman, sternly, surprising herself with the tone of her voice. The she softened. 'Honey, I don't want to leave you upset about all this. That house up there... just think of it as being grounded.'

'Huh! Grounded behind bars,' said the child bitterly.

'Not all the time - they do let you out.' The woman checked herself. 'Unless... unless you misbehave.'

The girl nodded, realizing she wasn't going to get far with her arguments. 'Mom... could you at least come in with me, please?'

'No, honey. They said kids only. No parents. You remember that.' The woman took a deep breath. 'I have to go, or you'll be late. That adds another week on to your- ' She stopped herself saying "sentence". 'Uh, to your time, so don't wait round here.'

The eleven year old gave one more try for assistance. 'It's a long way up to the house. My feet hurt in these shoes.'

Sharon pursed her lips. 'It's what they say you have to wear. You're just not used to wearing heels, that's all.' Three inch heels on a girl as young as Lisa would seem like stilts - the mother wasn't sure she could wear them herself for long periods. 'You'll be sitting down a lot,' consoled the woman, 'so they won't hurt so much.You'll get used to them.'

'Mom! Please don't go and-'

'Honey, you know I love you. I just wish you hadn't taken that money.' Without another word the woman slipped the car brake off and pulled smoothly away from the side of the street. Quickly, so the girl wouldn't see her mother's tears at having to do this.

At the door of the house, Lisa hesitated. She didn't want to be late and have to suffer an extra week in his place. But ringing the doorbell wasn't easy, even though all she had to do was reach out and press it. She thought about running, but that wouldn't be easy in this dress - and as she was already warm it would get a lot warmer trying to do anything much in this heavy outfit. As Lisa had discovered on the walk up the sloping driveway the long dress - tight and clinging - acted more like a hobble skirt. She couldn't walk very fast so running was out of the question.

On the other hand she could just turn and go as quickly as she could, tripping back down to the street. And put up with the discomfort of sweating profusely inside her rubberized dress with the danger of turning her ankle if she fell in these ridiculous shoes. Already her feet ached from the walk up the driveway.

But she had nothing with her to help her get home. No money for a bus, let alone a cab. And she wasn't even sure which part of town she was in anyway. Even if she knew in which direction she had to walk it would take hours, the shoes all but crippling her. It was already growing dark and she didn't want to be struggling along unknown streets in this old-fashioned crazy outfit.

In this bright orange too! Everyone would think she was weird. Or they'd know she was supposed to be in a private prison, not roaming the streets. Silently, Lisa cursed under her breath and reached for the door bell. Before she could touch it, the door opened in front of her. A middle aged woman, dressed in a plain gray skirt and simple white blouse, stood in the doorway. 'You must be Lisa,' said the female. Not unkindly but not especially warmly either.

Lisa nodded. There was something authoritative and cold about the woman that gave the pre-teen a shiver. The woman had small spectacles perched on her nose making her look like a schoolteacher, her hair scraped back into a bun added to the illusion. The woman frowned and stepped aside, indicating Lisa should step into the house. But that was hard for Lisa: the doorway had a raised edge at the bottom, like you might find on a ship to stop water flooding around. Stepping over that was an effort in the tight dress and for a moment the girl thought she would fall over.

Lisa tried to steady herself by reaching for the door frame but got the sense that the woman was glaring at her, so she tried to maintain her balance on her own. Perhaps, the girl concluded, it was deliberately awkward to make the weekend prisoners understand nothing here was easy. She wondered what else there might be in store for her. As the girl stepped over the raised threshold, she looked at the woman's feet for a moment and saw she was wearing the same high heeled black shoes, buckled across the instep to prevent them being slipping off. Or being kicked off. Shoes identical to the ones Lisa had to put on before her dress, back at home. Perhaps, the girl concluded, this was standard for them all though the woman was probably used to wearing them.

The entrance hall to this house was plain enough. There were no pictures in frames on the wall, no small items of furniture to make the place feel welcoming. The carpet was a dark brown, the walls a pale cream. Either the place was meant to look unwelcoming or they simply didn't subscribe to home decor magazines. The only thing there ticked loudly on the wall facing the door: a large plain faced clock which already indicated the girl had been two minutes late entering. Lisa hoped it was wrong.

'This way,' said the woman, indicating the girl should follow her. She gave no sign of looking at the clock nor mentioned the fact that Lisa was late. She walked briskly down the hall and Lisa strove to keep up with her, struggling in her long dress and high heels. At a plain wooden door the woman stopped and glared at Lisa. 'You are about to enter the restricted area where you will spend most of your time with us,' said the woman. 'You obey all rules, do what you are told at all times and above all you do not speak unless invited to. Understood?'

Lisa nodded, just for the sake of peace.

'My name is Miss Hobson,' intoned the woman. 'I own this private prison for wayward girls such as yourself. The only other adult you will see is Miss Keyes, who assists me. You will treat her with as much respect as you do me.' Lisa nodded, even though she hadn't been invited to. The woman cleared her throat. 'Your parents have deemed you in need of correctional training. That is what we supply, with outstanding results,' the woman said smoothly, as if she had practised this a lot. 'Be assured we have few children coming back for misdemeanors,' she added darkly. 'Equally they find their return less welcoming than this.'

The last statement made Lisa shiver. She gulped and tried to nod once more. The woman grunted and opened the door with a key hanging at her waist, shepherding Lisa through to what she assumed was the basement. The eleven year old was right in that there were stairs descending - which she didn't find easy to negotiate in her skirt and heels - but wrong if she thought it was some ordinary basement:. What she saw was like something out of a prison movie.

Along wall wall were five steel barred cages - cells perhaps but instead of housing a bed they were just five feet square with no furniture. In one corner was a large steel box, perhaps six feet across but only three feet high with the same depth. It appeared to have two holes in the top, a couple of feet apart. On the wall facing the cells was what seemed to be a simple hardback chair with a high back and arms, set facing the cells. A longer look revealed that the chair had no seat and looked far from comfortable. A series of thick metal rings were set into the wall behind the chair, positioned at ankle, waist, neck and above. Ominously several had chains attached to them with open manacles.

A small, frosted window high up on one wall was the only source of natural light. It was heavily barred.

All this would have been shocking in itself but the thing that most took Lisa's attention was the fact that in two of the cells were girls dressed in orange, like herself. One in each cell. At the far end, next to the strange steel box, a girl stood at the bars, her hands through the front bars. She was hooded with what looked like the same orange rubberized material. Her wrists, where they emerged through the bars, were cuffed so she could not withdraw them into the cage and indeed, had to remain standing. Two cells away from her was a second girl - a redhead aged no more than twelve - also standing at her bars with her wrists through the bars, resting on a steel cross piece. Her wrists weren't cuffed however. She didn't look at the newcomer and had her eyes fixed straight ahead at the wall with the rings and chains.

The cell door next to this motionless girl was half open and Lisa felt herself steered to it and through it. Miss Hobson closed the door after the girl and silently beckoned she should put her hands through the bars, on top of the steel cross piece as her neighbor had. Lisa did it reluctantly and the woman grabbed them to make sure they were in the right place, so her forearms rested on the metal rather than her wrists.

'You will stay like this while in your cell, until it is time to sleep or you are told otherwise. The rule here is strict and complete obedience, and silence.' The middle aged woman looked at the girl's face with a sly grin. 'Oh yes, and you were late. I will enter that on your record of imprisonment and that will mean an extra weekend here.'

Lisa somehow stifled a gasp of horror, biting her lip. She had the distinct feeling even a small sound here would be some further punishment or longer incarceration. The woman turned on her heel and clicked away, up the stairs and the sound of the door being closed and locked told Lisa her imprisonment had begun.

'It's okay,' whispered the girl in the cage next to Lisa after a few seconds, 'you can whisper. Just don't get caught talking. Not like Danielle.' The redhead was looking at Lisa but jerked her head towards the furthest cell where the other girl stood. 'She's gagged under that hood, and ears plugged. She won't join in.'

'Shit,' said Lisa. 'This is horrible.' She started to take her hands into the cell.

'No!' snapped the redhead, seeing what she was about to do. 'Don't do that. There's a special metal strip in the wrists of your uniform. A sensor in the steel bar will set off an alarm if they cross the steel bar. Leave them out, like me!'

'What? Lisa almost cried out in shock but kept her hands where they were. 'But I can't stand here like this!'

'Listen,' hissed the girl a few feet away, separated from Lisa by the steel bars between their cages. 'They want you to make mistakes, like her.' Another nod at the hooded, cuffed girl. 'Danielle's in for cheating at a school test. She tried to shout out when she came here and wouldn't put her hands through the bars, so they cuffed them like that. Now she has to stand in position.'

Lisa stared past the redhead towards the immobile figure at the end, her own head swimming with fear and confusion. 'But my mom and dad didn't say anything about this!'

'They won't know, probably. Mine don't. Or if they do know, they don't want to talk about it.' There was a note of bitterness in her voice. 'When they came to check this place out all they saw was some sort of bedroom. That's just for show... not for us!'

'But... you told them, right, when you went home, after the weekend?'

The redhead laughed, but with bitterness. 'Nah, they wouldn't listen. said I was making it up. In fact, they said if I kept lying I would have to spend more weekends here. Extend my sentence for bad behavior. So guess what, I come here, do my weekend in the cage and don't complain.'

Lisa gulped. Then she asked: 'And those things over there, those chains and things and that weird chair.'

'That's for when we are naughty,' said the redhead.

'But... how can we be naughty just stood here like this?'

The girl in the next cage to Lisa chuckled. 'Oh, not eating our food in the allocated time allowed, being late... whatever rules they dream up. Last week it was not eating some revolting slop they made us, the week before for not using the bathroom at precisely the moment they said we should. They think of something to hurt us and punish us. They always do.'

Letter Home

Dear Mom

I hope you are okay. I know it's strange me writing you, after so long. I guess I haven't been in touch for quite awhile. Not since I left home with Aunt Emma, which seems ages ago.

Okay. Maybe six months. It's just that I kind of lose track of time out here.

Oh, sure, you're going to be asking out where, right? Well, I can't tell you. Not that I don't want to but Mistress Em (I have to call her than now, not Aunt anymore) says I shouldn't. She says you'll worry because I'm only 12 and I haven't been away from home before, leastways not for more than a week.

Mistress Em says it's better you don't know. All I can say it isn't near home, and it's a big house where kids like me stay.

No, Mistress Em says I have to be honest. So they don't stay so much as being kept here. Like me. I'm kept here too. Not by Mistress Em, she just visits now and then to make sure I'm okay.

Oh yes, she also "uses" me, as she says. Guess you'd like to know what that means. But I want to tell you about the house, and me and the other girls here.

You see, I have my own room. It's small and it's in a special place they call The Wing. There are about ten of us usually, but not always. Sometime there's only five of us and sometimes there are about ten. But we all have our own small room. Oh, Mistress Em says be honest. Okay...

So, it isn't a room. It's a cell. I have a bed in there and a small wooden chair and there are things on the wall to attach me to it. Chains and what they call manacles. Funny really as it looks like some old-fashioned dungeon, like you sometimes see in the movies, like in "Pirates of the Caribbean" we saw. Remember?

I guess it seems weird me writing to say I live in a cell with a locked door and a small window with bars on it. Remember how I hated my room because I said it was too small? I guess this is a lot smaller. It isn't very warm in it either. You see there's no heating in here, not for us prisoners.

That's what they call us, the people who look after us. Okay, imprison us. Yes, I'm really trying to be honest, which you'll appreciate. Mistress Em says its really called humiliation rather than just honesty. I don't really understand it but she says I will in time.

There are five of them, all women and they make sure we're all okay. One of them is Nurse in case we fall sick, so you don't have to worry about me. I'm well looked after here. Funny thing is, one of them (the women who look after us) that they don't want us to be in pain from being sick, just from what they do to us.

Okay, Mistress Em says I am rambling and she's only allowing me to write a letter and not a book! So I guess I have to keep things short. She also says I should tell you what happened after I left the house, as you won't know too much. Well, not after you got out of those ropes.

Mistress Em says I have to tell you she hopes you aren't still too mad. She liked having sex with you (yes, I can use that word. In fact I can use lots of bad words when I'm given permission to) She also says it was time for her to move on and thought I'd make a good sex prisoner, so she took me with her. That was why she tied you up. Okay, I know that tying up was a game for you and Mistress Em but she tied you real tight so you'd think she was playing a long tying up game.

Guess when you got free and saw we'd gone you were pretty mad. I was surprised too, because Aunt Em brought me here all tied up as well. Yes, and a gag. Just like the one you wore for her, but mine stays in a lot of the time. Actually, I'm gagged as I write this. Mistress Em says my mouth should be sealed up while I'm writing but I have to make sure I don't drool on the paper.

I'd like to know Mom how long it took you to get free and get your gag off. I have to wear mine for hours and it can hurt. Yes, Mistress Em says that it's meant to. I was blindfolded when we left home and it was a long drive so I guess we could be most anyplace. I also was naked as Mistress Em says that sex prisoners don't need clothes. I guess that was the first time I heard the word but I hear it a lot now as that is what me and the other girls are.

But you can't be a sex prisoner without something to mark you. On the way here to the big house we stopped off at a special little clinic where they fix things on to children. Markers, they are called. My marker is a pair of nipple rings. They are made of silver and quite heavy as they're big. Mistress Em likes to have me tied up to things by them, so they are strong. She says I will soon be having a clit ring in, which will hurt me when it's done but mean I'm a special prisoner.

I have to tell you that Marjorie, who is the next cell to me, has a nose ring, nipple rings, rings in her cunt lips, one in her clit and even one in her ass hole, which looks real funny. Maybe, Mistress Em says, I will have just as many rings. but Marjorie is 14 and has been here for four years, so she's had lots of things done to her. She has real big tits and that's what I'm going to have. Nurse injects our tits with something special every week and measures us to check we are getting bigger up top.

Nurse says I am a good 34B but is aiming for a 34D by next year. Karen, who comes in sometimes when her Mistress has to go to Japan on business, has 34DD already and she's just 13! Mistress Em says that Karen's owner, Mistress Carrie, is planning on her slave being at least 40 inches. Already Karen has to wear a special corset to help her back support her huge tits. It also keeps her waist real small, which makes her tits look even bigger!

But not all the prisoners here get to have big tits. Norma is 14 and she has a flat chest. She started to get tits but her Mistress had them removed and she can't grow them at all. You see, Norma is Baby Norma and has to wear diapers. Her Mistress wants a permanent baby and Baby Norma can't ever speak except saying goo and ga-ga.

Baby Norma has a special pacifier, which is very big and fills her mouth. It's buckled on her and padlocked, so no one can take it off, except when she's fed. She has milk from one of the women's tits who visits every day and she has to suck and not bite. But they took her teeth out so she can't hurt the Wet Nurse's nipples.

My tits though will get bigger and I'll have bigger rings inserted. If I am very lucky, Mistress Em says, I will have my tongue pierced and ringed and have a short chain attached from my tongue to her labia rings so my tongue is a no more than a couple of inches from her and I can worship her all the time. By worship I think she means lick. But I think I'm getting good at it 'cos I didn't get whipped much after doing it, not like when I first came here.

All prisoners here have to worship their Mistresses. So we learn to spend a lot of time on our knees, looking up and licking cunts and assholes. We are trained by the women who look after us when our Mistresses aren't here with us and they make sure we are good at it. Even Nurse likes it, always after our tit injections or cunt examinations, which we have three times every week.

Oh I almost forgot to tell you. We also have ass clean ups (enemas they call them) as we have to wear chastity belts all the time when our Mistresses aren't here. Mistress Em says it is to make sure we don't play with our own cunts or each others. Or our assholes, too. So the belts are locked on us and have special prongs that go in our cunts and asses. These prongs can be made longer or thicker and sometimes they're real uncomfortable. We can't piss or shit (no don't be mad at me Mom for bad language as Mistress Em says I have to use the proper words) until they come off and when you are bad you can be given a lot to drink and then plugged up with a huge prong and left for hours and hours. It can really hurt!

Last week I was tied up with my belly all full with lots of special water which tastes horrible and makes us want to go to the bathroom but when you're tied up and gagged and fastened to a wall ring and all plugged up it can hurt a lot. I saw one girl, Diana, having her big fat tummy whipped and she said later that it really hurt on her swollen belly.

I know, we aren't supposed to talk much but we can sometimes whisper if we're lucky. Once or twice I even got to kiss one of the other girls too! I know you like kissing girls mom and I do too now. The girl is called Jennifer and she's nearly thirteen and knows how to kiss. French kissing, too. But I think Jennifer was caught with another girl, Samantha who's ten, because both of them have to wear a special hood now all the time. They're shiny rubber things and locked on them both all the time with a big gold padlock at their throats. They can't speak or see or hear and can only breathe through two little tubes up into their noses.

The funny thing is to see them tied up next to the toilet with their nose tubes in the pan so they have to smell what everyone does in it. Yucch!

Oh dear, Mistress Em has been reading what I am writing over my shoulder and has just told me for admitting kissing Jennifer I will have to wear a special gag later on. It's called an Agony Pear she says it's called that because it expands in my mouth. She can turn a little screw at the front, she says, so it really hurts me. I'm not looking forward to it but Mistress is happy about it, which is something I guess. So I should be happy. I'll try to be.

I do miss you, Mom! Sometimes I wish it was you tying me up and spanking me, but I guess I am owned by a real Mistress now so I shouldn't complain. My mistress says that being owned by a proper Mistress is the best because although mommies tie up their daughters they sometimes think they have to be kind and not hurt them too much. Mistress Em says its good for little girls like me to be hurt.

Okay Mom I have to go now. Mistress wants to whip the inside of my legs again because she likes to see me cry.

Bye for now, your ever loving daughter slut.

Janine.

Paired Up

Shelley and Donna stared at each other as if they'd never seen another child bound and gagged before.

'You two will get along just famously,' said Donna's mom Andrea as she pushed her almost naked daughter towards the other twelve year old. Donna would have been naked if it hadn't been for the flesh-colored plastic skirt she wore, showing her little pair of red satin panties through the translucent plastic.

She wore nothing on her chest and the small bumps she had for boobs might have stood out more but for the fact Donna had her arms secured behind her, wrists crossed and elbows pulled painfully together. With her shoulders back her small bust began to disappear into her bony chest.

'They look so cute, don't they?' offered Shelley's mother Louise from where she stood behind her child, equally close to being naked. Shelley was wearing only a loose fitting pink lace mini-dress that barely covered her ass - lace so open that not only was it easy to see her small bust through the large lace holes but both nipples peeked through. It was easy to tell too that she had no panties on.

Shelley had her arms tied wrist to elbow in back and a loop of rope up round her neck to stop her dropping her arms. Both girls were gagged: large ball gags. Red for Donna to match her panties, white for Shelley.

The two mothers regarded each other's handiwork and then exchanged grins. They had a date upstairs on Louise's big double bed and with the introductions done they would soon be doing what good, mature lesbians do. 'Let's get them fastened together and we can leave them safely down here while we get on with sex upstairs,' suggested Louise.

'Good idea,' agreed Andrea. 'I've got some spare rope.'

'No need. I planned this with some chains I got out earlier. We just have to wrap them round the girls and padlock them back to back.'

'Or better still,' laughed Andrea, 'we can fasten them up face to face and take their gags out.' When Louise looked doubtful, Andrea added: 'Then they might want to kiss some.'

Louise grinned at the idea. 'Perfect,' she said. 'I was hoping Shelley would get some girl's tongue in her mouth soon and I can't think of a better time or a more sexy little lover.'

'We'll have to fasten their necks together,' said Andrea as Louise got out the heavy mass of silver chains. 'We don't want them not kissing, right?'

'Right,' chuckled the other woman. 'Maybe the rope is ideal for their pretty little necks.'

'My thoughts entirely,' nodded Andrea as she straightened out the rope.

It didn't take too long for the cold chains to be padlocked around the girls and have them fastened face to face, the rope looped round their necks so that at best - once the ball gags had been removed - they were only an inch from a kiss.

Louise and Andrea wished their daughters "happy kissing" and went upstairs, arms linked, chattering about what they were going to do to each other in bed.

'Hi,' said Shelley, when the adults had gone. 'I'm Shelley. Uh, welcome to our home.'

'I know your name,' said Donna. 'My mom told me when she said we'd visit.'

'Guess our moms are happy,' said Shelley, shooting a look at the stairs and the first sounds of excitement coming from the main bedroom. The door closed, cutting the noise of two excited women almost entirely.

'I guess so,' said Donna,' My mom was pretty excited on the way over. She said it was great to find a lesbian like her just across town. She usually goes to the city.'

'Really? Wow. My mom's had loads of women visit - well, four,' admitted Shelley with a small blush at her exaggeration. 'She likes having women over for sex, only you're the first girl that's been brought over. I guess the others were too young, or weren't married.'

'My mom said she'd take me anyplace, providing I was tied up,' sighed Donna. 'Says it cuts down on baby-sitting. Before though when I got taken to some dyke's place I was left tied up on my own. Once in a small closet 'cos the woman didn't like seeing kids around. I was in there three hours.'

Shelley shook her head. 'Tough,' she sympathized.

'You have a dad?' asked Donna.

'Someplace. He bugged out years ago. Didn't like mom being bisexual. Since then she's all gay.'

'My dad's at home,' said Donna with a small sigh. 'He thinks Mom and me go dancing.' The girl lifted her eyes towards the stairs. 'Guess she is in her own way.'

Shelley laughed. 'Hey, you're funny.'

'That good?'

'Well, mom said I had to be careful in case you were this cry-baby kind. The sort who doesn't like being tied up.'

'Well, guess you have to,' Donna grimaced as if kids just have to put up with some things. 'I spend a lot of time in ropes and stuff. Gags too. I expected to spend this evening with my ball gag in. So, uh, this is nice.'

'Sure is.'

'You ever had sex with, um, a female?' asked Donna after a moment's silence.

Shelley blushed. 'Naw. Mom says you have be older to be a real lesbian. Y'know, getting real tits first.'

'Me too,' said Donna. 'But when I saw what you were wearing, the lace dress with everything on show, I thought this has got to be some little lezzie.'

'Hey, me too. I thought your plastic skirt - which I think is cool - meant you were into fetish clothing.'

'I don't have a choice.' Donna shook her head. 'The clothes are put out for me. Actually, sitting in the car in this plastic skirt gets cold on your butt. Shouldn't complain though, if you went outside in that dress the wind'd go straight through you.'

'And some,' laughed Shelley. 'Mom put me out in in the winter as a punishment. I was out five minutes max and came in blue.'

'You tied up?'

'Yeah, though only hands behind back. Oh and cuffs on my ankles.'

Donna nodded. 'Sometimes I have to have my hands tied in front of me, so I can do chores. I even get tied like that while dad's watching sports on TV in another room. I guess mom likes to play it dangerous.'

There was a shout from upstairs. Some burst of pleasure. 'That's my mom,' said Shelley. 'She gets loud when someone gets their tongue in her.'

'Mouth, cunt or ass?'

'Usually the last two,' smirked Shelley. 'You know, Donna. This is turning out to be a good evening.'

'Yeah, just wish my arms were tied like this.'

'They hurting?'

'Bit. But it could be worse. Two weeks ago I spent a whole evening in a hogtie, ankles tied to my hair. Now that hurt.'

'You visiting then?'

'No,' laughed Donna. 'Just practicing, mom said. Dad was out so she tied me in a hair-hogtie, she called it. Damn well spanked my ass too, just for fun. Mothers, huh?'

'Yeah... mothers!' Shelley chuckled.

The bedroom door opened, a naked woman's feet descending the stairs. 'Quick,' breathed Shelley, planting her lips on Donna's mouth.

'Good girls, glad to see you're kissing,' said Andrea as she came into the room. 'Just came down for my dildo.' She searched her purse, found it and disappeared back upstairs.

'Sorry,' said Shelley as they broke. 'I didn't want anyone saying we weren't doing what we were told.'

'No, it was okay.' Donna was a little flushed. 'Nice, really. I haven't kissed a girl before.'

Shelley shook her head. 'Me neither. But yeah, it was nice.' She paused. 'You wanna kiss some more.'

Donna blushed. 'Um, I don't know. It's not... I don't think we should. Not when we don't have to.'

'We don't have to do tongues and stuff. Just lips to lips.'

Donna shook her head.

'You don't like me?'

'I do Shelley.' Donna looked into her new friend's eyes. 'Much more'n I thought I would. But I don't want to be like my mom. You know, just driving from place to place for sex.'

'Kissing isn't having sex. I mean, we can just stand here and talk. Only, it was good kissing you.' She paused. 'Just kisses on the lips. No french kissing, promise.'

Donna took a deep breath. 'Well, okay, just keep our mouths closed, okay?'

'Okay.'

The two girls pushed their lips together. they broke and repeated it.

'See,' said Shelley. 'Nice little kisses.'

They repeated it all, closed lips-to-lips. The kisses got longer and Donna opened her mouth, just a little.

Shelley opened hers a little wider, her tongue just on her friend's mouth. Donna's tongue came out, cautiosuly. they opened their mouths wider, tongues pushing at each other's.

The two broke after several minutes of a surprisingly passionate kiss. 'Fuck,' whispered Donna. 'That was... great.'

'Yeah, real good. My lips feel bruised.'

'Uh, my cunt feels hot,' grinned Donna.

Shelley looked a little shocked. 'You allowed to say things like that? Y'know, fuck and cunt?'

'Who's to know?'

They kissed again. 'Now my cunt's all wet,' chortled Shelley. She wriggled herself as if she could do something about it.

'Hey, you oughta keep doing that,' grunted Donna, excitement in her eyes. 'Your nipples are rubbing on mine.'

'Yeah, it's great,' said Shelley. 'Now if could just get a hand in my pussy to sort myself out...'

The girls laughed as they eagerly began rubbing their nipples against each other's chest.

Family Ties

You and your two eldest daughters, Jasmine and Lana, are sat one each side of you. You three are all naked and your legs are wide apart so I can see your hairless slits. Naturally, as Jasmine and Lana are only 11 and 12 years old respectively there is not much evidence of hair on them but you, as mother Danielle, are shaved bare. I can see your cunt lips already prominent and swollen with excitement at what lies ahead. Your nipples too already look hard and I believe I can see some swelling of the two girls' puffy little nipples as excitement courses through them.

As usual each of you three on the sofa have your hands bound tightly in back. I always enjoy tying each of you three, tying your crossed wrists with several yards of thin rope and cinching it brutally. I have, using bondage techniques this severe, brought tears to your eyes - all of you in fact have wept as I tightened the knots before.

You all know why are tied in this way: I do not want you trying to interfere in what I am about to do and neither do I want you masturbating. The only person who will get direct pleasure from this is me. That is also why all three of you sit with legs spread wide. It isn't just the delight of seeing three slightly gaping cunts on show, it is more to stop any of you three rubbing your legs together in some desperate attempt to satisfy yourself.

I also want you all quiet and though your mouths need to be free later they are each currently occupied with a steel bar gripped between teeth. I always like this as a form of gag as it is heavy enough to make each of you suffer with aching jaws (dropping a steel bar will result in a very severe penalty next time, such as a whipping on the tits) but the bar allows you to each wimper if not speak. As expected each of you has a river of drool glistening on chest and belly and you Danielle, as a mature woman with heavy tits, have a definite river of saliva between your boobs.

I have never instructed you three to sit forward but do, literally on the edge of your seats in anticipation of what will happen next. I like to take my time here, partly to extend the agonies of all but also to savor the moment fully and enjoy the views. Keeping you Danielle and your two cute daughters waiting in desperation and on the verge of trembling excitement is a delight I cannot begin to describe.

I undress here. I am older than you Danielle by about ten years but I like to think as a middle aged woman my waist is not too thick and my hips not too heavy. My boobs droop a little now but in a way it adds to my pleasure to have three people - a thirty-three year old woman and her two pre-teen daughters - lusting after my less attractive body. Slowly I unbutton my blouse, unzip my skirt and fold them neatly on the table, allowing the woman and her equally well secured daughters the sight of me in my full, heavy white bra and corset. I also wear stockings and my corset has six garter snaps, each of which I undo slowly and carefully I roll each stocking down my leg and stretch it back out to its normal shape before placing it neatly by my folded skirt and blouse. Normally I would be happy with pantyhose but I wear stockings as this extends the three female's period of waiting. As I remove each stocking I can hear the moans and whimpers from the females, eyes fixed on me.

They know how long it will take me to get undressed, how slow and deliberate I am, but today I will add to their agonies of waiting by sauntering off to the bathroom. I do not need to go, but it is nice to see them still in the same helpless, exposed position when I return to Danielle's living room. I resume undressing. My corset has a zipper as well as hook and eye fastenings and just as with my stockings I slowly unfasten it, peeling it off carefully. Then I attend to my bra and as it is a longline style it takes me a minute or two to unfasten it. I pause to toy with my exposed nipples when it comes away and I am sure I can hear at least one of the three females whimpering a little more at seeing me tease my own nipples, stroking them harder. Reluctantly I stop and carefully I fold my bra up with the corset.

All I have now are my panties on - disgustingly a pair of pants I have worn for a couple of days now. I have dribbled in it and of course cum in it, so it is suitably marked and stained. I will not take it off yet. I first of all want each of the three on the sofa to smell how filthy these pants are. I bend over in front of Jasmine, presenting the 11 year old with my round ass almost touching her nose. I know she can smell me and I can feel her straining forward to touch my pants with her nose.

I do the same to Lana, allowing the 12 year old to try and nuzzle her nose against my pants but deny her that and then I present my rear to the mother Danielle, who strains forward to try and press her nose into the crack of my ass. I laugh gently and say no, removing myself from her reach. Now all three females have had the chance to sniff my soiled panties it is time for Eleanor to sample them.

Eleanor is the youngest of the family at just eight years, a stunningly cute little girl who will be the center-piece of today's action. She will also wear my panties in her mouth and on the sofa the three female will be rocking in desperation when they see the panties go in the small girl's mouth. These three always try to get off on seeing the little girl tied up.

Eleanor is naked already, which is another turn on for the family: they had undressed the child earlier in anticipation of what was to come. They wouldn't be disappointed, I smiled to myself. First I do what I always do and tie the small girls hands in back, turning the child so her sisters and mommy can see what I am doing to their youngest. There is a faint whimper of excitement from the three watching.

But one of you three females on the sofa won't see much more. I have a blindfold with me and one of you three, chosen at my whim, will not be allowed to see what happens to little Eleanor. I take the blindfold and hold it up, a look of dismay is all on all three faces as they know their pleasure will be limited to their own bondage and what they can hear. I regard the three females and choose Jasmine. It is a shame for her and she looks close to tears as I secure the blindfold round her head. I also remove the steel bar between her teeth and replace it with a large-size conventional ball gag.

I also note the look of relief of your face, Danielle, and on Lana's face too that it is Jasmine who has today been chosen not to witness the bondage and punishment I will heap on Eleanor. I must say Danielle you look also a little guilty that you are happy it is your daughter Lana who won't be watching, mostly because you can still watch.

I return to Eleanor. Carefully and deliberately I tie her up, winding lots of thin but strong rope round her body and arms, pinching her small nipples as the rope tightens, and of course down between her legs so the cord rubs on her tender young slit. Eleanor even begins to sob as the ropes tighten, which always pleases me. Then I begin on her thin little legs, tying them tightly and cinching each rope to make sure she is as thoroughly bound as I can make it. It hurts the child but that is what I want. After a while almost all of the child's body and legs appear to be hidden by rope but I haven't finished. I wind rope round the child's neck, not too tight but tight enough to bring a sort of strangled gasp from her as I knot it.

I glance at my audience, two thirds of whom are transfixed by what they are watching wile the other person, dear sweet Jasmine, has her head inclined slightly in a bid to catch any sound of her sister's bondage. Then on the youngest each rope is covered with duct tape - unnecessary I know as I have tied the child perfectly but I love the idea that even if someone wanted to untie her they would find it hard to get to the knots. The silver-gray duct tape slowly covers the little girl's body and out of the corner of my eye I can see you Danielle and Lana wriggling in anticipation of the gag going in.

Smiling, I know that's the real turn on for you all. You are all excited by being gagged, which is what delights me too.

Now I am ready to gag Eleanor. I pick up my panties and carefully take them to blindfolded Jasmine. This at least is one small treat for her: I wipe the panties on her open little cunnie to get any moisture from it and the 11 year old wriggles in delight as the fabric of my panties excites her. But only for a moment as I take them back to the motionless Eleanor. I kiss the little girl's mouth gently. As I do so I can hear more excited whimpering from the sofa, even from poor blindfolded Jasmine too. I break the kiss, spit in the child's mouth and then then slip the tight ball of my soiled panties between her teeth, packing it in firmly. I position myself, of course, so that you Danielle and your eldest daughter can see what I am doing, see how the little girl's cheeks bulge with the ball of panties, how tears roll down her cheeks from the vile taste and the sheer force I apply to make sure they fill her mouth. I ensure the panties are all in and then slowly I cover the child's lower face with duct tape, sealing the panties in.

Finally I take your panties Danielle, sniff them to check they are properly soiled, and drag them down over Eleanor's head so the stained crotch is over the little girl's cute nose. The bondage now is done. All that remains is for me is to get you Danielle and your daughter Lana off the sofa and position yourselves on your knees, steel bars removed, and let you get to work on my holes while I whip Eleanor's perfectly bound little body.

Call

Diane Rose picked the phone up and looked across at her daughter, just before she dialed.

Sami was ten but looked more like a young teen already: she had budding breasts that even as she stood with her arms bound behind her looked almost large enough to pass a teenager - the firm young tits were pressed back a little by the latex top she wore but the light gleaming on the black rubber gave every indication of the shape and even the child's small but pert nipples under the thin latex.

There was, as Diane knew so well, a delightful contrast between the thin white ropes and the black of her daughter's punishment outfit. As always, Diane admired the way the rope creased the rubber slightly, adding new ridges and highlights - were she an artist Diane would have spent many happy hours painting the delightful shapes caused by the tight bondage.

Even her daughter's waist was squeezed even tighter by several tight ropes - tighter than the corset her child was wearing under the rubber. An ordinary waist-cincher of black lace and elastic, but enough to give the child a semblance of that all-important hourglass type figure even though as yet her hips had not swollen the way they would when she reached womanhood. A nice butt, sure, but the width of the girl's hips was still lacking.

The short, naturally slightly flared black rubber skirt though hid the absence of well-rounded hips and belly, so delightful when older and needing constraint. And Sami's legs were so good in their thin black rubber stockings, again pinched a little above and below her knees with more strands of white rope.

In many ways Diane could have stood there for ages studying her daughter but there was an important call to make and she shouldn't delay. She didn't want to miss the pick up truck.

Sad she had to disturb the enjoyment of studying her bound daughter, Diane finally punched the number in.

Sami, staring at her mother from inside her rubber hood, was silent. The ball gag Diane had sealed in Sami's mouth just a couple of hours or so ago, before she dressed her child in latex and before tying her up, prevented the child from speaking - as it was intended. It was worth paying all that money to get proper child gags that fitted: so many women complained that the gag they had bought their daughter without checking sizes was doing a less-than-perfect job.

It was probably true that some females, Diane understood, got off on hearing muffled moans from their bound daughter thanks to an ill-fitting gag. But that wasn't how gags were meant to be. Silence, she reflected, was indeed golden when the child was gagged.

Diane shifted her weight in her high heels as she waited for the phone to be answered. It was that they were inefficient at their end. Far from it.

As she waited, Diane surveyed her daughter once again and felt a renewed tremor in her own slit, packed neatly inside her own rubber panties. It was always a thrill to get her daughter to dress her own mother in rubber before Sami was gagged and dressed herself. Flesh-colored, semi-transparent rubber in Diane's case - not the black rubber her daughter wore.

That was the crucial difference. Black rubber suggested punishment and restriction. A see-through rubber outfit suggested fun and pleasure. And that always meant sex.

Diane felt a little warm in her own rubber clothes, but they were cut to allow her some ventilation and she knew that in the more severe outfit her pre-teen daughter was wearing - plus being squeezed by the cincher and of course the tight ropes - the child would be perspiring heavily by now inside her rubber.

To her credit, Sami wasn't struggling. Just standing to attention, like a good daughter should with arms behind her and legs bound at her knees. Perfectly balanced on her own high heels. But then, Sami had had plenty of training. Since she was five in fact, teetering round the house in child sized high heels, encased in some rubber even then. And often tied too in some way.

Yes, Diane was going to miss her daughter. However it was only for three months.

Just before the phone was answered, Diane allowed herself a small rub: just the fingertips of her latex covered fingers through the taut rubber of her panties, but enough to send a new surge of delight through herself. She shouldn't be toying with herself until Janice, her lover, arrived later - that was their agreement - but sometimes it was hard to resist herself like this. And seeing her daughter so well bound in rubber, too.

The phone was answered. Diane gave the coded message to whoever was listening at the other end. 'Usual address,' she added.

'One hour,' said the voice on the other end - a mechanical female voice made to sound like a machine. With a nod, Diane put the phone down.

'An hour,' she said to her daughter, blinking from inside her hood. No doubt, thought the mother, thinking it would be agony standing like that for an hour, sweating heavily, unable to move or speak, her high heeled shoes strapped to her feet causing her legs to ache.

Ache more than they were already doing, smiled Diane at the thought. For all Sami's practice, it still hurt her to have to wear the heels for longer than an hour or so. Perhaps though, that was partly because they were a size too small.

Diane moved from the phone and went to sit on the edge of the sofa while she waited. She couldn't sit properly in her own corset - a steel-ribbed white lace affair showing though the flesh-colored rubber she wore - but that was what Janice had insisted on for their session later on.

The two women usually alternated the top and bottom relationship though Diane had felt a little disturbed that in the last couple of weeks Janice had almost exclusively taken the dom position. She would, she was sure, soon get her turn to control the other woman so it was hardly a crisis. But it was unusual, and Janice had also been acting a little strange...

Diane put the ideas out of her mind. The best thing she could do was enjoy the sight of her bound and rubber-clad daughter while waiting for the Punishment Center truck to arrive. After all, she would have three months without her child while Sami was locked away, so she should enjoy what she could of her now.

And enjoying one's own daughter tied so well and suffering as she was in such delightful silence, required a little self-rubbing. Diane eased her own gleaming rubber glad legs apart, reached between her legs and pressed the fingers of one hand against the soft, warm and perfectly smooth crotch of her latex panties.

Diane's other hand reached for the nipple on one of her own heavy breasts, teasing it through the shiny smooth second skin of her rubber bra, aware that Sami was staring at her mother, watching her silently and unmoving.

'Oh, Sami... if only you could stay longer,' sighed the woman. 'I'd love to have you tied up like that in my bed. But you were so naughty last night, refusing to eat Janice out. You see, I just had to put you into the Punishment Center. I really don't want Janice upset, do I?' Another sigh, longer as Diane's fingers worked harder on her nipple and her sex, feeling it grow more hot wet inside the confines of the latex. 'But it's only three months punishment, honey... you'll soon be home and we can carry on as dominant mommy and loving slave.'

More rubbing, more sighing. Then Diane let slip: 'I didn't want to send you away, but Janice said...' The woman stopped herself but carried on playing with herself. Perhaps, she thought, it wouldn't do for Sami to know it wasn't all her own mom's decision.

'Listen honey, Janice and I are- ' began Diane, thinking she would say a little more about who dominated who right now only to be interrupted by the door bell. The pick up truck must be early, she decided and reluctantly let go of herself and stood, straightening the hem of her short rubber skirt. 'You just wait there sweetheart,' smiled the woman and made her way to the door as fast as her platform soles and towering heels would allow.

Watching And Waiting

Seven year old Marianne Weiss was in agony as she walked down the empty hall towards her mom and dad's bedroom. She moved as quickly as the short manacles on her thin, white socked ankles would allow and the crippling effect of having gravel inside her simple, black Mary Jane shoes buckled tightly on her tender feet.

Together they turned a simple walk into an agonizing ordeal. With her arms bound behind her with carefully tied ropes at wrist and elbow, she made an appealing sight: her small, flat chest was pushed forward by her secured arms and a rope round her little waist was drawn down between her legs and tied off to her wrist ropes, causing her already short skirt to bunch up and reveal her pale yellow cotton panties.

Marianne - known as Mari to all her friends and family - would have liked to object to the severe way her grandad had tied her but the small ball gag nestling in her mouth, carefully buckled in place by her grandmomma, prevented even a squeak. Plus, she was not too happy with the "gift" from her older sister, Lulu. The nine year old had attached clothespins to Mari's chest, clipping the jaws of the clothespins on to her small nipples through the taut flower-spotted fabric of the child's dress. Swinging between the clothespins was a piece of thin, flat wood on to which Lulu had painted the words "Punish me please", a strip of wood not heavy enough to pull the clothespins away but heavy enough to add torturous weight to the little girl's suffering nipples.

Although Mari was all too aware of the weight and the way it swung into her stomach as she walked, the girl couldn't look down at it. A cord had been tied from the girl's elbow rope up to the ponytail (a hairstyle the grandmomma had insisted on) and secured tightly. The cord was short enough to pull Mari's head back so she was obliged to look up at the ceiling as she walked. To ensure she kept her head up, a wire 'nose-fork' had been lodged in her nostrils and the loose wire end drawn up over her head and tied tthrough the back of the ballgag strap to the rope at her wrists. The cruel effect was to turn Mari's cute little face into a kind of pig impression which had made the grandparents and her sister laugh at her discomfort.

All this wouldn't have been too bad if Grandad hadn't insisted on 'helping the slut along' by using his belt on the back of the child's legs as she left the living room, producing vivid red weals across the back of the little girl's thighs and calves. The pain was intense and the helpless Mari had tears running down her flushed cheeks, running a small river over the gag strap and dripping on to her tortured chest.

At her mom and dad's door, she paused. She would have to knock to go in but she didn't know how to do it. To make matters worse from inside there was the sound of her parents having sex: the bed was groaning rhythmically and her mother was gasping and begging and no doubt above her her husband was driving hard into her, peppering his love-making with words like cunt and slut and fuck. Mari hated to interrupt while they were screwing, as mom and dad called it. She hated it because it embarrassed and because they would turn their foul language on her. But mostly Mari hated to interrupt because it meant more punishment for her. But there again, wasn't that why the family had sent her down the hall, so she would be blamed and hence punished? But Mari couldn't go back to the living room. If she did, she would punished twice: first by the grandparents and again by her parents when they emerged from their screwing and were told the story by the rest of the family. Taking a deep breath and trying to blink away the tears (they always seemed to arouse fresh punishment desires in her mom and dad) the little girl brought her knee up as far as her short ankle chain would allow and thumped it painfully on the door.

Inside she could still hear the adults fucking - daddy's word - and they didn't seem to take any notice. Mari banged with her knee again, harder, feeling the pain in her knee more.

The voices, the cursing and the sounds of pleasure slowly faded. The bed stopped creaking under the drive of the man's thrusts. There was the sound of footsteps across the bedroom carpet and the door opened. Mari found herself looking up into the face of her daddy, standing naked in front of her. She was aware, though she couldn't look down of course, that the man's stiff, glistening cock was jutting out, almost touching her punished chest. What hit Mari most of all however was the smell: with her pigged up nose as Lulu called it she could easily smell the sex in the room and on her father, that mixture of pussy and prick and spunk and the raw passion that permeated the air.

'Pllth puhhthhi mohhh,' said Mari through her gag. It was new one and it always took her a while to get used to how a new gag filled her mouth. 'What?' scowled the man, leaning down towards her.

'Pllth. Puhhthhi. Mohhh,' repeated the child, trying to make it clearer. It was hard enough saying, "Please punish me" without a gag but with it filling her mouth it was near impossible.

'I think she wants to be punished,' said Mari mom's voice from the bed. Mari tried to look past her father and could just about see her mother, spread-eagled on the bed, virtually naked and bound as she usually was for sex. 'Isn''t that sweetest thing, honey?'

'Hummph,' grunted the man and stepped aside to let the small child in. 'She's been crying for some reason,' he said as Mari struggled past him. 'And look at her new dress. Those clothespins will ruin it! Will the kid never learn?'

'Oh,' said the woman from the bed. 'Don't be hard on her, Clark. She just wants to be liked. Come over here honey and let me see how nicely you're tied.' Mari made her way to the bed, slowly. She was aware of her father grumbling about her but she kept her concentration on walking. She was a little cunt, according to the man standing behind her, and didn't deserve to be spared. He was also laughing at her, at the red stripes across her legs, saying he would be happy to add to them.

From the bed the spreadeagled woman said: 'We shouldn't be too hasty, honey. We might want to punish her another way.' She turned her attention back to the struggling, bound child now standing by the side of the bed. 'Can you see me in the mirror, slutcakes?' she asked. 'Don't I look pretty?'

With her head secured back, Mari had no choice but to look up at the mirror over the bed and see her mother stretched out, legs wide apart. The woman was naked except for a garter belt and black stockings, her bald shaved sex pink with abuse and glistening with her own juices and her husband's cum. There was a soft thonged multi starnded whip on the bed next to the woman and the red marks across her large tits showed she had been whipped several times during the sex session. But Mari knew her mother liked it all. Unlike the child, the woman craved bondage sex, enjoyed the whippings and yearned for a gag.

In fact there was a black rubber ball gag lying next to her on the bed, still wet from where she had recently worn it.

'You look very nice, Mari,' smiled the woman. 'But as we can see you are so insistent on being punished I guess we have to help you. Unfortunately daddy hasn't finished with me so you'll just have to stand there for a little while while he sees to me.'

The man laughed and pushed past the child, climbing on top of his wife. In the mirror, the child saw her father lie on top of her mother and heard the woman sigh as the man's hard cock slid up into her. Mari could see the man begin his thrusting again, heard his mother start to make excited noises, heard him call his wife a whore and a cunt.

'Please...' gasped Mari's mom, 'the gag... I need it.'

The man, without stopping his thrusts, scooped up the gag and wedged it into the woman's mouth. He didn't bother securing the straps. Instead he told her to keep it in place on her own: if it came out he would whip her hard on her cunt. Mari couldn't be sure but the woman seemed to groan deeply in delight rather than fear.

It took a few minutes for the man to finish the fucking but when he withdrew, he wasn't quite done. He climbed up the woman's body and directed his still hard cock at her face. 'Piss time,' he laughed, and directed a fierce yellow stream of urine over his wife's face, making her twist her head. For a second the child thought her mommy was trying to escape the jet but the opposite was true: Mrs Weiss was revelling in it, trying to make sure it splashed all over her face and her hair. To the child's astonishment, the woman pushed the ball gag out of her mouth and opened wide to take the dying stream into her mouth, swallowing eagerly.

'Cunt,' snarled the man. 'I told you to keep the gag in.' He thrust forward and pushed his now semi-hard dick into her mouth, telling her to suck it dry.

'Mmmm,' sighed the woman happily, licking her lips to get the last of the piss and spunk (and her own cum) as he withdrew. 'I deserve to be whipped for disobeying.'

The man grunted and picked up the soft thonged whip, snapping it in the air. 'Tit or cunt?' he asked.

'Thrash my cunt please, lover,' said the woman. 'Am I to be gagged while you whip me?'

'No. I want to hear you scream,' Mari's dad laughed as the whip came down in a blur between his wife's outstretched legs. Mari's mom screamed, echoing throughout the house. Mari gulped as best she could in her gag at the sight and sound. She knew her father was vicious and cruel but she was horrified that her mother craved it so much.

Mari shivered as she watched in the mirror. She knew it was her turn next, and all she had to do was watch and wait.

Ramona

The cuffs went on Ramona as soon as was in the car. Theresa Lloyd had moved into the back and the eleven year old girl was helped between the woman and the teenage daughter.

They were ready for the child. Almost before the terrified girl settled, the cuffs were on her. At the same moment a small piece of flesh-colored tape was pressed over the girl's mouth by Kerry.

'Wow, we got her,' laughed the teenager as she smoothed the tape over the younger girl's mouth. 'Can I play with her now?'

'No,' said Jake as he started the engine. 'Not until we are out of here. Too many people around.' He looked at a family walking close by, a family with two girls, neither of them cuffed or gagged liked Ramona. But they almost certainly wouldn't know about all this shared child bondage - not unless their parents subscribed to the forum. One of the girls glanced in as Jake moved smoothly away, but she wouldn't have noticed anything about the girl in the middle of the back seat. She wouldn't have seen her handcuffs, behind her small back or even noticed the small piece of near-invisible tape sealing the child's lips.

And even if she did think the small girl looked a little terrified, eyes wide in some sort of shock, what would she say?

Jake headed away from the direction the other car had come from. That was part of the agreement: you never followed the other people, the ones who supplied their daughter. You never knew anything much about them. You just enjoyed yourself with the child.

'Got to blindfold you, sweetheart,' said Theresa gently as the car hit the open road. 'Can't have you seeing where you're going. Understand?'

Ramona had been told that by her mom and dad on the way here, and nodded unhappily. She almost had tears in her eyes as the thin, but opaque, tape was stretched over her eyes, plunging her into darkness.

She couldn't know that the tape over her eyes had two lifelike eyes painted on them, staring ahead. Just like the tape over her pretty lips had an image of a pair of small, pouting lips.

Sitting in darkness, unable to move her hands, she started as the fingertips of the teenage girl were on her. Stroking her little nipples through the pink and blue dress she was wearing, then the same hands moving down and lifting the hem of her little skirt, peeling it back.

'Cute panties,' laughed the older girl. 'Real nice yellow ducks on them.'

The secured little girl started again as fingers settled on her panty-covered sex. No one had told her about that! She heard the teenage girl ask: 'Can I put my hands in her pants, mom?'

'Do what you want,' said the mother. 'She's yours to play with. I'll hold her legs apart to make it easier for you.'

Ramona felt strong hands pushing her legs apart, a smaller - and lively hand - working its way down inside her panties. A finger snaking into her little slit.

'Ooh,' said the teenage girl as she fingered the child. 'It's all slippy in here!'

The Lloyd's car bounced out of the parking lot and sped away, every bump on the road making Kerry's hand move inside Ramona. Kerry had sqeezed three fingers in the little girl's cunny and the child was moaning into her gag. Not with pleasure but increasing discomfort.

The mother was still holding the captive girl's legs apart but let go. Ramoma, unsure what to do, left them apart.

'You like fingering her?' asked Theresa.

'Yeah,' said Kerry. 'Think I could get all four fingers in her?'

'Not now,' growled the man driving, glancing into the mirror and catching a glimpse of his daughter burrowing her hand deep inside the small girl's pants. He was excited by what his daughter was doing, but this wasn't the place. The forum organizers always insisted it was kept a secret in public.

'Daddy's right,' agreed Theresa, also aware of the rules. 'We should leave some for later.'

'Like I can fist her?' Kerry was excited, but she took her hand out.

Ramona had never heard of that before, but then she had never been in this position before. She'd never been tied up or gagged. That was why when her mommy had explained she would be looked after by friends, who'd tie her up nicely, she had no idea of what that meant. She couldn't even ask her friend Sonia, who knew a lot of things, as Ramona had only been told a few hours before. In the car on their way from home.

Now she was finding out. She felt the woman press her legs back together, hiding her pants. She felt funny in her little sex. It was hurting from having someone's fingers in there but it wasn't all bad.

No one said anything more for a while as the car sped along, until Kerry said: 'Mom, can I tie her up as soon as we get home?'

'Sure,' said Theresa with a smile.

Ramona didn't hear the smile, in her blindfolded state, but she sensed everyone was happy. She wanted to cry but she knew instinctively that wouldn't do any good.

It was dark when the girl was helped from the car, though she couldn't know that in her blindfold. But she could hear the insects, and knew the sounds. She caught her foot on a step, then on on the door edge. She was being guided in someplace. A house, she thought.

'Easy with her,' said Theresa. The woman sounded a little way away, so the child realized she was being guided by the teenage girl.

A chain rattled, and something cold and hard was closed round Ramona's slim neck. A click and something heavy fell on her chest. A hand took it, tugged and lifted it, and a voice - the girl's - said: 'That's good.' The weight fell again.

More rattles, another click.

'She chained up?' asked the man who had driven.

'Yeah,' laughed the girl called Kerry. 'Can I rip her clothes off now?'

'No, she has to go back in what we she came in,' said the man. 'You take them off neatly, you hear?'

'Okay,' said the girl close to Ramona, almost as a grumble.

Ramona understood now why she was wearing that new dress, the one with buttons along the top of the shoulders. She felt them being undone, the dress falling loose around her, sliding down. Hands were lifting her feet so the dress could be removed.

Ramona shivered. Not because of the cold - it wasn't - but the shock of being undressed by strangers. She felt her pants being eased down off her bottom and hips, down her legs. her socks and shoes came off and then, the last thing, her vest. The one with the little ties at the shoulders.

The vest fell down her and three people laughed at her nakedness.

'Like the man said,' Ramona heard the man chuckle. 'Mole on her chest. It's her okay. The one we ordered.'

A finger touched the mole in the center of her chest and the bound, silenced child jerked in shock. More laughter, more fingers poking at her. Hands were probing her, one between her legs at the front, another behind her, working - or trying to work - into her small, tight ass.

A third hand was pawing at her chest, squeezing her nipples. Someone, a female, pressed her lips to the tape gag over the small girl's mouth.

Unable to help herself, Ramona peed herself.

'Fuck!' snapped the child. 'The cunt pissed on me! Bitch!'

'And on her clothes,' said the man from behind the chained girl. 'See?'

Ramona, terrified, carried on peeing.

'She'll have to clean all that mess up' said the woman, sounding annoyed as the torrent continued.

'We got anything to seal up her twat?' asked Kerry.

The deluge dribbled to a halt, a strong smell of urine in the air. 'If you do, sweetpie', said the man, sounding amused. 'You won't be able to finger her.'

'Or fist her,' said the woman.

'Bitch,' repeated the girl as she wiped her wet hand across Ramona's face.

It was later than Ramona got to see where she was. Free of the blindfold, the eleven year old girl looked round. She was standing in a bare room on a cold concrete floor, her piss-drenched clothes round her ankles, her hands cuffed behind her and her neck attached by a chain to a hook high up on a wall close by.

'Stupid little fucker,' said Kerry, standing close by. She was on her own, no sign of the man and woman. Kerry continued: 'You have to learn to control yourself, dipshit. No one wants to be swimming in your piss.'

Ramona looked at the girl. She had a short length of chain in her hands and snapped it threateningly.

Kerry snered at the girl's worried look. 'You think, kid, I'm going to beat you with this?' She chuckled and tensed it again.

The cuffed girl didn't think that. She was just scared. More so now she thought she might be hit with it. But she'd never been beaten by anyone, though her friend Sonia said her parents beat her. And it hurt.

'This is for your hands,' said the girl with the chain. 'Want to get them higher up your back. When I whip you, cuntlet, it will be with a real whip.'

'No, don't hurt me,' begged the girl, tears running down her face.

'Oh, you want to talk through your gag, huh?' Kerry sneered. 'Well, I can't tell what you're saying kid and don't want to know. Anyway, we'll get a better gag for you later. Real quiet, then.'

Kerry stepped up to Ramona and threaded the chain through the girl's neck chain and then tugged her wrists up her back to meet it. She closed a padlock on it, securing the child's cuffs to it and keeping her hands high up her back. The result was twofold: first it made the gir's shoulders feel as if they were dislocated and caused her push her flat chest out; second it made her scream into her gag with the pain.

'Fuck,' chortled Kerry. 'You sure know how to howl, don't you?'

Ramona knew how to howl. She knew how to make even more noise when the girl whipped her exposed, unprotected ass cheeks with a thin rod. Not once, not twice but a dozen times, leaving vivid red weals across the child's pale buttocks. Making the chained girl cry so that her tears fell and splashed in the puddle of cold urine at her feet.

Then this Kerry, sneering and laughing, simply left her alone. Left the child standing in pain and humiliation. It would be a long weekend, she knew.

It was morning and the girl in straps stirred at the foot of the bed. She lay across the bed, with Kerry's feet on her small naked body. Ramona felt as if she'd been kicked hard in the night, several times - which she probably was.

She hadn't slept well and was exhausted. The girl tried to move but the straps were placed so she couldn't shift far. She tried to ask for help but the sleep gag they had provided muffled her groans.

Ramona felt hurt and scared and alone. She'd never been tied up before, never been beaten. She'd certainly never been gagged before and she hated it, the taste of rubber or leather in her mouth, making her want to retch, making her drool incessantly. She shivered in fear and cold, wondering if she would ever see home again. They had said 48 hours, but so far it had felt like a lifetime.

Tears of self-pity rolled down her cheeks.

Kerry kicked Ramona once more, bringing a faint "oof" noise from the strapped down girl's gagged mouth before Kerry struggled out of bed. The dominant child lurched sleepily as she walked to the bathroom, leaving her bedroom door open. Across the way, Ramona could see the woman of the house getting up in her bedroom, pulling on a gown of some kind to cover up her nakedness.

Ramona wondered about these people. She wondered why the woman was so cruel, to allow her daughter to do this to her. The woman - this one called Theresa - was stretching as she came out of her room. She blinked at Ramona and grinned. 'Good night's sleep, honey?'

She yawned and shuffled into Kerry's bedroom to peer down at the child stretched out over the end of the bed. 'Day of punishment ahead for you, young lady,' she said a little thickly. The woman reached down and tweaked one of Ramona's small nipples. Half game, half pain. Ramona felt only the pain and the humiliation and tears filled her eyes.

Theresa smiled and stopped screwing the child's nipple tight. She patted the child's sore chest and said the child shouldn't worry. Kerry, she added, didn't have a very strong whip arm. Ramona moaned in fear and struggled with her straps. The woman laughed at the child's efforts and shuffled away, calling to her husband she was on her way to make coffee and breakfast.

Love

'I'm sorry, Katie,' said Helen, looking anxiously at her seven year old daughter. 'I don't want to hurt you, honey. I really don't.'

'Mom, please, take them off me. They hurt!' The little girl struggled with her cuffed wrists behind her back.

'No they don't. They're only hurting because you're fighting them. Just accept it, honey. If you don't struggle they won't hurt, I promise.'

'But why have I got them on again, mommy? You said last week you wouldn't make me wear them again. Not for ages, you said.'

'I know, Katie. It's just that I can't help it. I have to do it to you. You're the only one I have!' The woman, kneeling before the little girl wanted to cuddle her daughter, make it better for her. But she had to make the child understand.

The little girl started to cry and redoubled her efforts to get free. 'Listen to me,' Helen took her daughter's small shoulders and gazed into Katie's tear-filled blue eyes, 'Now stop it! Stop struggling with them. They're special handcuffs, they're made for your little wrists. They're made that way so you can't get them off, do you understand?'

The child sniffed back a tear and nodded reluctantly.

'I've got the key, okay? If you're good and helpful then this will be all over quicker. Then you can go out and play, or watch TV.' Helen hated talking sternly to her daughter like this. She hated having to seem uncaring. Suddenly she softened. 'Listen, kitten, as soon as we've finished we can go and have a burger, would you like that?' Katie made a snuffling noise and nodded. 'Do you love Mommy?' asked Helen gently.

'Yes, mommy. I love you. It's just that I don't like this...'

'Katie! That isn't the point. I'm going to ask you again and I don't want anything but a proper answer.' She paused to make sure her daughter was listening and then asked, quietly: Do you love me?'

The child's lower lip trembled a little but she said: 'I love you, Mommy.'

'Good, and I love you honeypie.' She smiled at her daughter, pleased she had stopped struggling. Katie stood quite still now, hands behind her back. The child wasn't fighting the child-sized handcuffs any more. 'See,' said Helen, relieved that the seven year old was calmer. 'Those silly cuffs don't hurt now, do they?'

Katie shook her head, blinking away the last of the tears. 'Mommy,' said the girl, after a few moments. 'Do I have to wear, you know...'

'Your gag. Yes, you do.' Helen tried to keep her voice firm, even though it distressed her in some ways to put the little ball gag in Katie's mouth.

'You know you have to wear it. If you can make a sound, you're not...?' The woman inclined her head a little, inviting her daughter to finish the little rhyme she had made up.

'If I can make a sound, I'm not properly bound,' said Katie without great enthusiasm.

'Perfect, honey. Remember, you are a very good girl and I love you lots. I wouldn't do this if it wasn't important.' From her dress pocket Helen produced a gag: a small red ball in a light brown leather strap short enough to go round her daughter's head. She held it up in front of the child. 'You know, you do look very pretty in this.'

Katie stared at it. 'I don't like it, mommy,' she said quietly. 'It makes my mouth hurt after a bit. And I can't...' The child's voice trailed away.

'Can't what?' Helen asked but didn't drop her the gag away from close to her daughter's little mouth.

'I can't talk to you, while you're tying me up. I can't tell you if my ropes are too tight.' Tears were forming again in the child's eyes.

'Oh I know. I love talking to you, too, kitten. But gags are for keeping you quiet. And I'll really try hard not to make the ropes too tight.' The ball gag was still there, in front of Katie's face.

'But I promise I won't complain, mommy. I'll stay quiet.'

'I'm sure you would, but it wouldn't be right to have your mouth free while the rest of you was all nicely tied up, would it? So, open wide please.' Katie's lips trembled, and then slowly she opened her mouth. 'Wider, honey,' said Katie's mother, and eased the red ball into her daughter's mouth, obliging the little girl to stretch her quivering jaw. Instinctively, Katie bowed her head forward so her mother could pull the straps round behind the little girl's head and thread the strap through the buckle. Helen fastened it quickly.

'There,' the woman said, smiling. 'That doesn't feel too bad, does it?' Katie hesitated and gave a little shake of her head. 'Now honey, I know you're a good girl and you won't run away, but you know mommy likes to put something on your legs, right?'

Katie nodded, knowing what was coming next. Helen produced a short length of silver chain with hooks on each end. She fastened the chain round one of Katie's ankles and slipped the hook through a link, and then did the same on the other ankle, leaving about six inches of play between the child's ankles.

'Remember, little baby steps,' she grinned at her daughter. 'Right, off we go to the chair.'

'Mmmmph Fmmmph!,' said Katie, realising that this time she wouldn't be bound lying on her soft bed, next to Teddy, but to the chair in the garage.

'Hush, honey,' Helen said, taking the child's arm and guiding the slow moving, baby-stepping youngster towards the door.

The chair was a simple old-fashioned wooden hard back chair set in the middle of an otherwise empty garage. It was cold in there and Katie only had on a thin, but pretty, summer dress. She shivered in the cool air as soon as she stepped inside. But most of all Katie didn't like it because it was a chair for grown ups: her feet couldn't touch the floor. In fact, her legs stuck out in front of her. Plus her arms wouldn't fit properly round the back of the chair. Sometimes her mommy had uncuffed her, drawn her little arms round the chair back and refastened them, so the sides of the chair back cut into her arms. Or she would tie them there with lots of thin, strong rope. And there was plenty of that, Katie knew.

Helen smiled as she bent down and removed the hobble on her daughter's ankles. 'Sit up honey,' said the woman, patting the seat. Katie did her best, striving to keep her balance with her hands cuffed behind her while she clambered up. There was no help from her mother. As Helen had said, many times: 'I can't do everything for you, kitten. You have to help me sometimes.'

It took a minute or two before Katie was sitting properly, legs out in front, hands behind her back against the back of the chair.

'Today, honey, I'm going to do something a bit special with your legs. You know how mommy loves to tie them together? Well, today I have a nice treat: you can keep them wide apart.'

Katie stared at her mother, eyes wide like saucers. 'Don't look so worried,' Helen stroked her daughter's long, dark hair. 'You won't have all that tight pressure on your knees. I'll only need to tie your ankles to this little old pole here.' She indicated a small pole standing up against the garage wall.

Katie tried to say something, but only succeeded in letting a little drool run down from the gag, down on to her pretty dress.

'Hush, sweetie. Listen, I'm not going to make you put your arms round the back of the chair. Today, as a special treat, you can keep them behind you. Isn't that nice?' The child made a small noise into her gag - a reluctant yes. The woman, crouching by the side of her daughter, beamed. 'I'll just wrap some ropey round your chest and tummy and arms to keep them there.'

Ropey. Helen always called it that when she was tying up her daughter. She used to say gaggy, when she first started gagging her daughter, making her sit and watch TV for hours with a little cleave gag in her mouth, getting her used to being quiet. Your friend gaggy is coming to play, she would say to Katie, back when she was four. Then ropey and chainy eventually came to play, too.

Chainy had been last of all to come. One Christmas, when Katie was six, she had the heaviest present ever: a box with a big pink bow and full of chains and cuffs with little gold padlocks. She had to put them on at once, said her mommy, and then she could open the rest of her presents. It took Katie ages, and she cried, but mommy said it was for the best. Katie had to learn to stand up and walk and move in her friend chainy, no matter how hard it was. All day, until Grandma came. Only then were they put away. Since then, birthdays and Christmas had some device as a gift. Last birthday it was her first pair of stocks, so Katie could sit and watch TV with her legs outstretched and wide apart, locked in the stocks. There were even two little holes for hands, between her the holes for her outstretched legs, and sometimes mommy would say she had to reach forward and put her hands through so she leant forward, and then the cuffs would go on. And if Katie cried, then gaggy would come, and maybe blindfoldy, too, if it was Katie's favorite TV show.

Now Helen was taking her time, getting the ropes around Katie's chest and arms, threading it through the back of the chair in places. She drew it tight and the child wriggled, renewing some sounds in her gag.

'Sit still, precious,' said Helen, tightening the ropes and knotting them securely. 'Won't be a minute or two now, and then we can see to your lovely ankles.' She continued working and then, happily stood back, admiring the way Katie's slim little body was covered by a web of white ropes. 'Comfy, honey?' Helen asked but didn't wait for any reaction as she advanced on the girl's feet. She crouched by them and ran her hands along the soft, smooth flesh of her daughter's legs. 'Mmmm, you have lovely legs,' said the woman, flashing a smile at Katie, sitting quite still and staring at her. The child flinched when her mother put her fingers right up close to her panties, right on the inside of her pale white thigh. 'This is where you are the smoothest, honey,' said Helen, slowly drawing her fingers down all the way to the child's lace turnover ankle socks.

'Im going to tie these ankles to the pole, so don't kick honey, or it will only make things slower. Promise to keep your legs still?' Katie mmmphd and nodded, just a little. 'Good, now I'm going to do this right ankle first. I'm going to lay the pole on your legs so hold still while I tie them both.' The pole was blanced on the girl's ankles and then Helen set about winding the thin ropes round the child's ankle and over and round the pole, first the right ankle and then the left. Katie wriggled just a little and made a few gagged sounds as the rope was knotted tightly on each.

'I know it's tight honey, but I don't want you sliding your ankles together, okay?' More mmmphs, slightly more frantic now, but Helen ignored them. The woman stood up and looked at her daughter. 'You look so sweet honey. That gag is perfect and I love how your legs stick out. How does it feel?'

Katie wriggled and tried to say it was hurting - especially her arms pinned between her back and the chair back - but Helen merely smiled. 'Good, I'm glad you like it,' she said. Helen turned away and gathered up some old newspapers, and then carefully spread them out on the floor of the garage, beneath the chair seat. 'Now, you remember before we put your cuffs on, I let you have a long drink?' The girl, wide-eyed at watching this activity, nodded. 'Well, that was special drink. It had what we called a diuretic in it. Funny word, huh?' The seven year old's mother smiled as she finished placing the last of the pages. 'That means it makes you wee-wee. Do you want to wee-wee, honey?'

Katie, panicking slightly, shook her head. But she looked alarmed. 'Well, you will very soon,' continued the mother. 'You had a big drink and it's all in here,' Helen put her hand on Katie's stomach, smoothing out the dress where the ropes had ruckled it. 'In here, the drink and all the other drinks you had earlier are all mixing up and sloshing round and getting ready to wee-wee.'

The child made some urgent mmmphing sound, more drool dribbling out. 'Oh, darling, just look at you dribble! You're getting all your front wet.' There was already a big wet patch on Katie's chest. 'And we've only just started.' Helen snickered as a look of fear crossed her daughter's pretty eyes. 'Oh I know I said we wouldn't be long, but well, once we start I just don't want to stop. Anyway, today I want you to wee your panties. And this will help.'

'Mmmmpph! Mmmpphhh Rrrrmph!' The little girl jerked against her ropes, almost screaming into her gag and her mother's fingers stroked her thigh, on the soft fleshy part, and then suddenly pinched hard. 'Pain sometimes makes people wee-wee,' Helen laughed, pinching again, harder. 'Do you think, honey, if I pinch you it will make you wee-wee?' Another pinch, this time on the inside of the other thigh, high up, right against the lace leg of the white cotton panties.

Katie was struggling hard, trying to get free, trying to get the pole off her ankles, her thighs slamming up and down against the chair seat. Loraine held on them tightly. 'Oh, darling, I just so love it when you struggle and fight. I just love it when my little girl wants to be free and I've tied her so tight and I'm hurting her.' Another savage pinch, followed by another and another. Both hands now, pinching and twisting, watching her daughter struggle and shake her head, listening to her gagged cries of pain, pleas for mercy, seeing the tears run down her cheeks, puddling over the gag strap.

'All you have to do, kitten, is just let it go. I don't mind you wetting your panties. I don't care if you ruin the dress. The silly old chair won't mind.' Another pinch, even harder, on both legs together. 'Just let me see that big puddle of your wee-wee.' More pinches, increasing in intensity. 'I know I said I wouldn't hurt you, precious. I hate hurting you. I wouldn't have to do it if you peed for me. You know that's what mommies call it, don't you? Pee, not wee-wee.' Katie was crying, screaming into her gag. 'Oh fuck, I'm hot,' said the girl's mommy. 'I love tying you up, staring at your lovely panties, I love being hot. I love hurting you, my own lovely daughter.' One hand stopped pinching the child's thigh, sliding between the crouched woman's open legs, finding her own cunt. Helen gasped. 'I've found my slit, honey,' the woman almost shrieked. 'My cunny. But it's not my cunny. I have a cunt, and I'm wet. Fuck, I'm wet.' Another pinch, on the child, on her own clit. 'Please do it for me, darling, just piss yourself!'

Katie, unable to hold back amid the passion and the pain and the urgency of it all, started to wee-wee - the yellow liquid gushing through the thin, stretched cotton of her panties, puddling on the seat, against her marked, sore, punished thighs, running forward into a golden waterfall, down on to the floor.

'Oh fuck,' said Helen, stopping pinching her daughter, running her fingers in the warm, bright gold liquid pool, and coming with a shout.

'Sweetheart,' gasped Helen eventually as she crouched in front of her daughter, the pleasure of the long climax throbbing as it slowly subsided, 'no matter what we do I will always love you.'