.. it's...” The woman's face contorted. “It feels... It hurts, but... but... It feels... It makes me... I...”“You love it,” I purred, clampi...g another clothespin on her tit. They swayed. There were dozens of them per breast. “Don't you? You're just a naughty slave that loves the pain.”Mrs. Armstrong whimpered and nodded her head.“Do you see, Daddy?” Stefani said, her hand grabbing another clothespin. She pinched this one on her mother's stomach between lengths of red rope crisscrossing her. If I were able to take a little time off from the office, I'd go over to the high school and watch him at football practice. In spite of his lanky build, he was a talented runner and often left his would-be tacklers looking around and wondering where he'd disappeared to as he sidestepped them and whizzed on down the field. Once he was in the open, there was no catching him. I didn't doubt he'd be a first-stringer, even as a sophomore.I think one of the greatest compliments I'll ever received in. More

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