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Monica unshackles her Daddy from the horse and helps his to his feet. Daddy's ass shines red in the candlelight and the soft glow dances on the nipple clips and chain. I am slumped on the floor in exhaustion.
Daddy is told to bend over and grab his ankles as Monica takes a towel and wipes his ass, which is covered with welts and shit from my beating. I feel good and bad at the same time ... relieved that it is over ... yet ... anxious for more. Monica takes a bottle from the desk and pours, what seems like alcohol, on a cotton swab and gently wipes the Daddy's ass. Emotions run through my mind as I fight with the sorrow of beating Daddy and the pleasure of thrashing butt fucking Father. I wrestle with the feelings of swinging the whip ... fulfilling a fantasy ... yet ... I am torn with the thought of inflicting pain on someone I barely know. Finishing with her chores, Monica returns to her place in the corner
As I ponder the feelings Daddy is moved to the white wall where his leather wrist bands are clipped to a black pipe running horizontal to the ceiling. His leather leash is pulled tight so his head is against the wall. I glance over to the corner ... Monica is sitting on the stool, starring at Daddy as he is made secure on the other side of the dungeon. I start to say something when I notice our Master take the box from the desk, approach me, open and hand me the container. Inside are wooden clothespins in various colors. I look at the pins as Dungeonmaster hands me the box. I also look at Daddy, whose lips are twisted into a wicked ... wanting ... clever smile.
"Would you like to play some more", Dungeonmaster asks in a low voice?
"I ... "
My words are cut off by my Master placing a finger to my lips and uttering a hissing sound that I should be quiet. Taking one of the clips from the box, he presses the ends, opening the clamp and attaches the wooden pin to the to Daddy's testicle sack. Taking another clip from the box Dungeonmaster places it softly in my hand and steps away. I fumble with the wooden clamp and finally got it squeezed and attach it to the soft skin just next to the first one. Daddy made a soft moan and I can't tell if it is of pleasure or pain. The look on his face is one of pleasure but I find it hard to believe that it could be so. But ... I gently hold the end of Daddy's cock in my fingers ... his is first prick I have ever touched, other than the cock of my fucking ... child abusing ... mother fucking ... father.
So ... I hold the end of the cock ... attaching a third pin ... a forth ... fifth ... sixth ... and seventh wooden clothespin ... the box was empty. Daddy's balls look like a summer flower with the clothespins clipped in a circular, symmetrical pattern. A smile crosses my face as I think that I am finished. I start to rise as our Master approaches with a knife, which gleams in the soft candlelight.
"You want it in formaldehyde ... Don't you", he whispers, as he hands me the knife and steps back. I take the bone handle in my right hand and feel the sharp edge of the cold steel with my left. Anxiety rushes through my body as I reach forward, touching Daddy's cock with the edge of the knife. For the first time he cringes and tries to escape by turning ... when ... I hear a loud " ... whack ... " as the end of the whip lands on Daddy's chest with much more power than I could wield, since Dungeonmaster was on the other end of the leather strap. Daddy let out a yelp and stops moving, letting me drag the knife along the soft skin of his cock.
To my surprise Daddy's prick begins to stiffen and, after a few minutes, his cock stands straight like a Churchill Cigar. It is odd to me that this cock ... hung with a clothespin flower arrangement ... tormented by a sharp knife ... in the hands of a very unstable lesbian ... would get hard. I look into Daddy's eyes and see the look of a man who is unafraid.
I'm sure that Daddy has more confidence in my control than I ... for as I drag the blade around his hard cock I can only think of my Father's child abusing cock in my ass ... his drunk hands tearing at my young pussy ... my father's cock rammed into my young cunt ... my head stuffed into his stinking chair ... his cock pushed down my throat ... the smell of stale beer. Tears form again as I look at Daddy's stiff cock, inches in front of me while I stick the point of the knife in the hold at the tip of the head of his cock. How nice it would be to split that ugly prick like a banana ... cut it off like a cucumber ... preserve it forever.
But ... the more I look ... the nicer his manhood appears ... the desire to mutilate ... destroy ... is not there. As I play ... the more I am attracted to the stiff ... hard ... cock ... so ... I set the knife on the floor, lean forward ... place a tender kiss on the hole at the tip of the head and stand up.
I look at Dungeonmaster, as if asking what to do, and he looks at Monica ... raises one finger and motions. He then looks at me ... raises two fingers and motions. Monica and I follow him from the room. As we leave the door was slams shut on Daddy.
Not a word is spoken as we turn off the lights in the office and leave.
The three of us go to a wonderful French restaurant, have a fabulous bottle of French wine and a glorious dinner. Not a word is said about Daddy during ... nor ... after dinner. There is some wine left when Dungeonmaster leaves Monica and I sitting at the table talking. He never returned.
I talk with Monica for awhile but I never mention her Daddy, nor did she. We finish the wine, leave the restaurant to go to her house.
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