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This thing was held together by two bolts that needed an irregular wrench. The wrench wouldn’t have to be perfect. I only needed it to work once and I’d be free. And third, was my secret, something only my parents knew. It was an accident when I was eight. I got careless while riding my new bike. The front tire caught in a storm drain and the bike twisted around. I was thrown off, my lower back striking the concrete curb. It was seen by a neighbor who phoned the police and my mother. I spent three days in the hospital going through a full battery of tests. Bottom line—my lower body would function almost normally just a bit slower and I would still feel pain, but at less than half of what anyone else would experience. I had been extremely careful to avoid injury from my abdomen down. Now it seemed that my accident might save my life. I lived in Gilbertsville, Pennsylvania, right off Route 73. From the direction Mistress Marge—that’s right, in what I thought was a total cliché, she told me that’s what she was to be called--had driven I was pretty sure she had gone west on 73 past Boyertown into the farm country beyond. We had stopped at the last traffic light about fifteen minutes ago by my reckoning so I assumed we were somewhere near Manatawny or Oley. We turned a few seconds later and I knew we were off a public road by the crunching gravel under teen the wheels. My thoughts were confirmed when Marge opened the trunk and I could see that we were in an old abandoned barn. There was a big hole at the rear where the roof had collapsed and on the floor there was plenty of evidence that the area had been taken over by animals. Then I saw two things that I knew were meant for me. Hanging from a huge threesome rough hewn beam at least twelve inches on a side was a sturdy steel chain. Looking up I could see that one of the links had been secured to the beam by three thick heavy-duty staples. There was no way I’d be able to pull them out no matter how strong I might be. The other thing was a big steel dog cage about three by three and four feet deep. "Mistress” Marge gave the leash a strong tug and I tumbled out of the trunk. A minute later she anal had pulled my arms and wrists up to padlock them to the chain. My arms were up so high that there was serious strain on my shoulders. All the same, I thought I could handle the position fairly easily until she tied my ankles off to ring bolts that had been sunk into the hard dirt floor. Someone had done a lot of planning for this and, if I had amateur to guess, it would have to be Marge. She was by far the smartest of the four. My position was much worse when my ankles were spread about five feet apart. My shoulders, Hardcore strong as they were, ached from the stress placed on them. “I’m going to break you, Sean—turn you into a cipher that will exist only to follow Lori’s orders to the letter. I plan to whip you four or five hours a day until the pain is unbearable and then I’m going to whip you again and again. The adventure I’m about to describe is when Jon decided that I should further my education a bit Hardcore by: - Tina started to sob. The remaining three never reached her and landed in the water between us. I was a bit nervous about climaxing before mom so I was restraining myself from going full throtle. He went over to the desk and Gina went and knelt by the bed as she had been told to do when Master was working. She caught both her breasts and began kneading them. I tell her that she can contact me later with that. I stood there for ages before picking up a card that I’d already looked at and turned to walk to the till. "Yes, I do, David." "Wow!" “I don’t know, Ash. As I rode the elevator anal to the suite floor, I could feel Dakota’s anticipation. In the car ride teen amateur back to the Chateau, John again begins asking me questions, “David, when you’re in trouble, how do you get out of it?” You've given me way too much already. “No darling I’ll get oil on my hands and I have to be handling the curtain material in a minute.” threesome Grinning from ear to ear. I didn’t consider him to be my mother’s type. Session 4 with Jill Daniels