This aroused young plaything eyed me intensely. Her white cloth perched on her outstretched finger. For all my life, fair reader, you must understand that I was a helpless gentleman bound by both leather and moral. I did attempt to avert my eyes, but there is only so much a gentle fellow can take.
She at first, eyed my reaction. It was not so much that my response mattered to her, but more as if she awaited a certain cue. Both she and I, her wanton breast, hung in limbo, listening to the throbbing of our heartbeats. I had by this point all but forgotten the niggling molar and all its repugnant suffering. It seemed as if pain and excitement were two trains running along the same line.
She edged ever closer to me, two corners of her undergarment in each hand, and forced them between my lips, pulling my cheeks tightly back. She tied a substantial knot at the back of my head and spun to once again face the wall.
From behind, she searched around my braces, under my trouser line and slid along my thigh. I felt relief that the leather straps hid my trembling hands, pulling my body in restraint from the twitches and jolts of adrenaline. She pulled her hand back from my thigh and slid up to hold all my manhood had to offer in one hand. My member, somewhat over stimulated and half panicked, vibrated beneath my layers, humming like a nest of angry wasps.
She placed her remaining hand, with quite some force, against my forehead and pressed it against the headrest of the chair. My eyebrows pulled taut, eyes wide, completely immobile except for the direction of my eyes.
“We are going to play a game,” she whispered, deadly into my ear.
She began circling her finger around the tip of my penis, moistening the head with the slick pre-ejaculate that was seeping from me.
“You are going to buy me a ticket out of this house and there is nothing you can do to stop it.”
Her mother’s voice came through the door, halting her playtime. The door swung open and this Hazel vixen, still very breast-ful, had already pulled her hand from my trousers. She very cleverly, walked forward towards the tools at the back, concealing her exposed womanhood. This specimen was as cool as she was fiendish.
Still somewhat unable to comprehend the situation I was bound in, I found Mother binding my head to the back section of the chair, leather tightly pressing on my forehead.
“Hazel, I’m going to need the usual for this one, I’m sure this kind fellow is ready for this to an ordeal finished sooner rather than later.”
With that, the mother mounted a small stool that gave her an extra foot of height over me. She braced herself with her right foot stretching across my lap and lodged into the base of the chair arm.
“Now open wide for me kind sir, we all know this is not going to be pleasant, but I’ll do the best I can, Hazel dear, lets begin with the smaller tool.”
My eyes could only fix open the various patches of mould, forming an imaginary map for some far off place. A place perhaps where free-roaming tribes of Hazels had their ways with lost and injured men.
Hazel’s mother seemed none the wiser to Hazel’s villainous sexual musings and was most intent on the job at hand. I had begun to shift my thoughts away from the hounding mass in my trousers and more towards my tooth when I sensed the wandering hand, once again running up my leg. It appeared Hazel was to enjoy the danger of continuing very much where she left off, under to the near surveillance of her unsuspecting mother…
[Hold out for Part III…]