"You don't want to be my slut?" I enquired, my finger stopping deep inside her wet box.Her breathing was getting heavier and she pleaded, "Curtis, I c...n't. I have resisted for so long."Suddenly confused, I asked, very curious, "Resisted what for so long?" Being a slut," she moaned, as she moved her ass back and forth trying to fuck herself with my finger."But you fuck Miranda," I pointed out."Yes, but I am in charge in our relationship. She is my slut," my Mom explained.I pulled my finger. When I took itoff there were two deep pits where the metal ends had pressed into me. I mademyself cum, and it was even better than before. Those were the first of many sessions with tools, instruments, anything thatI could get hold of and that I thought would do as an instrument of torture.I even pressed a thumbtack into my arm, making it bleed. This was exciting stuff, but I knew that what was missing was the torturer.I could not really be cruel to myself, and needed a second person, or. More

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