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My own mother always said she had ears like a cat and after becoming a mother I started to think she was right. Either Paul was working out or he was having trouble breathing. His door was ajar. I peeked in through the slit. His lamp was on and the curtains drawn. He was on his bed naked. His head was back against the head board. His legs were spread. One hand was on his shaft moving up and down slowly and the other cupped his balls. I saw him licking his lips as he moaned. My first instinct was to push the door open and stop him. Curiosity got the better of me though and instead was intrigued. For fourteen year old his shaft was long and thicker than I’d expected but then again he was a growing boy, already five nine and taller than I. Gradually the rhythm of his hand increased. I felt a tingling in my pants. It sent my hand between my legs to satisfy but between the fabric I couldn’t reach it yet in spite of myself and what I was watching I slide my hand down my pants and touched. The damp tracks felt cold a tiny draft from somewhere cooling her, she had now seen every corner of the room as she swung crazily with every stroke that fell, his smile said it all, he loved his job, he swung her to face him, a clamp on nipple weight, in his hand, her eyes opened like saucers, as he teased the nipple gently into the jaws of the clamp, then deftly flattening the soft tissue with a swift turn of the clamp screw, shafts of hot pain lanced into her breast, he smiled showing her the second, again deftly it was fitted, the now dangling weights stretching each soft sac, hauling both downwards he adjusted each clamp and she screamed again. “now my sweet Kay, these breast will be whipped, and those weights will dance, are you ready?” he paused waiting her reply, slowly she nodded closing her eyes as the lash descended once more, the taught breast skin received the lash and a sheet of white hot pain ran from the swinging weight up through her crushed left nipple direct into.
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