My Needs (3-4)

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Chapter 3 – A PAIN SLUT

“Whip them!?”

“Yes, darling, whip them. Really hurt them and leave them with whip marks so you can show them off.”

“Show them off to who?”

She smiled at me, if you can call the pain wracked grimace she managed a smile. “I was going to a party,
and now you can come too. You’ll love it, it’ll be full of people like us. They need what we need and the
fact that we’re mother and daughter will make us very popular. Oh, God, darling, my tits really hurt!

I thought about that. I’d be on display, my marks and perversions openly visible.

“Yes, please, Mommy, and can you mark me up first so they can see what a pain slut I am?”

“Of course, dear. And you can do the same for me! Oh, this is going to be so good! But first, I have to
whip those nice big tits of yours so stick them out so I can really hurt them.”

She fetched a short whip from its clips on the wall and showed it to me.

“It’s short and it’s flexible, it’ll wrap right around those nice big swollen tits of yours.”

I was actually panting, filled with longing, fear and incredible arousal. I knew I would cum hard again if
my tits were really hurt and eagerly lifted them and thrust them out for their pain.

“Hurt them, Mommy, really hurt them. Oh, please hurt them! I’m a real pain slut, aren’t I!”

“Darling, you’re the best natural pain slut I’ve ever met and I’ve met a few.”

And she bought the whip down on my out-thrust tits, hard and straight across their tops. I screamed, the
pain was intense but I needed more, I could feel my cunt’s wetness and its pre-cum clenching. I lifted
them again, holding them out for the whip.

“More, Mommy, oh, please, more, more!”

Again the whip lashed down on my proffered flesh, and I threw my head back and screamed. “Again! Oh,
please again! Harder! Harder!” and I really needed more – a lot more.

Because after just two lashes I was swimming in a sea of pain and arousal, holding my own flesh out for
the lash and on the edge of an enormous cum. Somehow I managed to restrain myself while mom
whipped my willing tits. I sank to my knees, unable to keep standing but still lifted my pain wracked and
constricted globes out to their agony.

Occasionally, I would collapse forward, nursing my tits, but always straightened up again, holding them
out to their torture. I could see the marks accumulating on my upper tits and loved seeing them. A party
and I had only just learned my real nature, a party where I could be myself and learn so much more about
myself and those like me, and they would see my tits and know that I was a true pain slut.

I was on the verge of cumming.

Mom shifted her grip and bought the lash across both my nipples. I howled and cummed, sank into a
world of pain and incredible pleasure, my empty cunt spasming and clenching on its emptiness as I fell
forward, squeezing my swollen and marked tits and completely helpless in my orgasmic excess.

I really don’t know how long that cum lasted, but I was pretty well exhausted when it was over. I looked
up at my mother, standing there, still with the whip in her hand.

“Oh, mum, that was wonderful. I need that all the time.”

“Well, not cumming all the time dear, but I can keep you worked up all the time. There are plenty of ways
to do that. To start with I’ve got nice little alligator clips for your clit and nips.”

“Oh, yes! Oh, Mom, my tits really hurt and I still want more! I never knew I was like this! I never knew
you were like this!”

“I want more all the time, darling but I’ve learned to control it. But one of these days I’ll just let it go and
let them do whatever they want to me for as long as they want. Torture me to the end. But not before I
know you’ve got it under control as well.”

“You mean the people who’ll be at the party? Let them torture you to death? Snuff you?”

Mummy licked her lips and squeezed down hard on her aching tits.

“Ooooh, that really hurts! Yes, I love always having it as a possibility, even the thought turns me on. I
think Daphne, one of our older members, has demanded to be allowed to go all the way at the next party
so that’ll let you understand why we always have that possibility.”

“I’ll be there when she’s snuffed? I can join in!”

“Snuffing her, of course you can. Join in with her when she’s snuffed? No. You need to experience so
much more first, even if you do agree to it. Anyway, in the meantime you’ll love every moment of it, just
like I do.”

I was so aroused by the thought of snuffing another woman, especially if she wanted it. It had to be the
ultimate form of masochism and, since I had accepted my own innate and extreme masochism and
incestuous lesbianism I was eager to see another woman indulge her own extreme masochism to the
ultimate limit.

“What could I do?”

Mommy squeezed her tits again and her hips started to jerk. “You like hurting tits, yours and mine, so
maybe you could work on hers. Binding them, inflating them, Branding them, injecting acid or holding
fire to them. Things that really hurt.”

“And she wants this?”

“Don’t you? I know I do.”

I thought about that. It was true that I got huge pleasure from having my erogenous areas hurt and
tortured and if it was part of being snuffed I wouldn’t have to worry about recovery or social interactions
afterward. But to give up on life and all it had to offer? Not yet, I decided. Perhaps some time, but not
yet.

“Alright, if she wants it and her tits are available, I’ll really hurt them.” I licked my lips, “Really hurt them.”

Chapter 4 – PREPARATION

So now Mommy and I are going to the snuff party. A party for people like us and only us.

Mommy has told me what will happen at the party.

Daphne will be tortured until she dies under the torture. She wants it, needs it, craves it. She’ll be the
center of attention just as she likes and she’ll be able to be tortured as severely as she always wants but
as they haven’t been able to do for her up to now.

Even so, Mommy says she’s permanently scarred, has huge, augmented tits, wears a tormentingly tight
corset at all possible times and has her underwear lined with sharp pins. For her, sitting is a penance. A
penance she needs and loves. One of us but who, after many years of eager suffering, has been allowed
to have herself tortured to death. To be snuffed in front of all of us.

Mommy says she’ll beg for it as long as she’s capable.

We know that we too will be used and hurt and abused by everyone at that party and we’re desperately
looking forward to it. We’ll be able to use and abuse others at the party as well, but for us, well, we are
so eager to be the objects that everyone uses for their pleasure that we’re already wet and trembling
with lust and desire just from thinking about it. We keep embracing, rubbing our bruised and marked
bodies against each other, describing to each other how we will be treated, revelling in the predictions.

But now, we have to prepare. We know each other well and know that for a party like this we will need
to be dressed in painfully constrictive clothing; clothing that starts to cause our sexual excitement to
become ever more obvious, clothing that will make us objects of lust, desire and derision. Clothing that
will make the party guests want to torture and torment and fuck us as we moan and weep from the pain
and frustration that we will so eagerly experience.

We wear identical skin-tight leather suits, tightened onto our willing bodies until we both have difficulty
breathing, just the way we really crave it. The suit is dampened so that, as the leather dries, it will
shrink and grip even harder on us, increasing the tightness that constricts our bodies even further until
we will both be struggling to breathe. I’ve tried it just to find out what it feels like and the crushing
constriction, the difficulty breathing, the pain of constriction all get me so hot that it’s wonderful
torment. Trying to imagine how it will feel with the other torments that will be imposed on my body
makes me ready to cum.

Out tits, of course, are bare, further constricted about their bases so that they swell and stand out from
our leather encased bodies like two soccer balls, swollen and firm to the touch. Neither Mommy nor I
can resist this treatment and even want to go further and so have injected a salt solution into each
other’s tits: the needle penetrating our nipples and into the center of each tit, the saline from the
needle swelling our pain wracked globes until they reach ludicrous dimensions.

Of course this increases the weight of our tits until they hang off our chests like two water filled sacks,
unbalancing us and making us have to carry them in our cupped hands. They need support and that
support is provided by a half bra each, a bra that leaves most of our tits bare and a bra that is lined with
tacks, a further continuous source of stimulating agony.

Our nipples have not been spared and on each is an office paper clamp which crushes them agonizingly
and makes us even more aroused. Heavy weights hang from these clamps, swaying and further
agonizing our nipples as they move.

We stand there, fondling each other’s swollen tits, flicking at our nipples, pulling and dropping the
weights until we can stand no more and collapse, sobbing and moaning, onto each other’s shoulders,
our tears wetting each other’s hair.

Oh! How so much pain and degradation turn us on and we need, we crave, the derision and agony that
await us at the hands of the party guests. We are both trembling with a mixture of dread and desperate
anticipation.

Of course, our cunts have not been left out of our preparations for the torments to come. At this point
we have whipped each other’s cunts with a leather belt until they are swollen and bruised, their lips,
inner and outer, swollen and protruding, ready for further torture. Our clits have swollen as well and we
occasionally touch or pinch our and each other’s clits, a wonderful source of intense pain and arousal.

We both love this and, when we were using the belt on each other, eagerly presented our cunts, our
legs widely spread, as in turn we lashed the leather belt down on each other’s proffered flesh. Even
though our cunt lips are bruised and swollen we offered ourselves eagerly to the lash of the belt,
thrusting our suffering cunts up to meet it.

We know that our mutual punishment is merely the precursor to the real cunt torture that we will be
inflicted on us during the party.

My frequently expressed desire to become a mouth and asshole only whore, denying me the pleasure of
cunt sex, is about to become reality. I’ve conceived this when Mommy denied me any orgasms and
clipped my inner cunt lips together so nothing can penetrate me and if I want anything in me it’ll have to
be in my mouth or arsehole. I know that during the party I’ll have my labia minora clamped together
using big, very tight, office paper clamps, preventing me from being fucked in my cunt and providing me
with delicious frustration, especially since my clit will protrude from my cruelly clamped cunt, a clit that
will be used to arouse me to the point of orgasm and then left alone while I beg and cry for relief. The
clamping will, of course, be deliciously painful and arousing, pervert pain slut that I love to be.

Our cunts are fully exposed, completely bare, all hair removed from our bodies by laser treatment,
leaving both of us with a smooth and exposed skin, ready for unprotected punishment. We know our
naked cunts will be thoroughly whipped and abused prior to being clamped tight shut.

Also prior to our clampinng we will have forced toilet brushes into our cunts, torturing ourselves in
public so the guests can see just what a completely perverted pair of sluts we are. Just thinking about
pushing the bristly head into our cunts, scratching and prickling as we force it deeper, watching each
other’s self-imposed agony until the brushes are firmly embedded in our suffering cunts, leaving the
handle obscenely protruding, excites both of us.

Mom is the first to voice the thought that is most on our minds: “Let’s practice with the toilet brushes.”

“Oh, yes Mom, shall we do ourselves or each other?”

Mom licked her lips and fingered her clit. “Let’s …. Let’s do ourselves first and then fuck each other with
them! It’ll hurt so wonderfully!”

Toilet brushes, along with various whips, clamps, constraints, arse plugs and dildoes are part of our
readily available equipment. We never know when we will need to torture ourselves or each other.
I fetched two brushes from where they hung on the wall and handed one to my Mommy.

“How far do you think you can get it in, Mom?”

“All the way in, darling, all the way in and then you have to fuck me really hard with it.”

I groaned aloud in anticipation. “Oh, yes mom! I’ll push mine all the way in and then you have to make
it really hurt for me. Shall we fuck each other in turn or together?”

“Together, and let’s put on some really nasty nipple clamps first.”

“Yes, yes! I’ll put yours on and you can do mine.”

I grabbed two pairs of clamps from the table. The ones I secretly dreaded; tight, so tight and with
serrated edges. They’re almost too much for me so I used them constantly. My nipples are always,
always sore so just playing with them always arouses me. Needless to say, I’m always playing with my
nipples.

Mom pushed her tits up and out toward me. I took a clamp, opened it and allowed it to close on
Mommy’s offered left nipple. She actually threw back her head and screamed but still kept her tit and
nipple presented. Overcome with a desire to hurt her even more I squeezed down on the clamp,
bringing a further scream from her.

“Oh, darling, darling, it hurts! It hurts! Do the other one!”

I needed those clamps desperately myself so I said, “Mine first, Mom, do mine first!”

She lifted her tit, staring at her tortured nipple then looked at me and my tits. “Yes, Darling, oh yes.
Hold out your left tit.”

I held out my tit and watched, panting with anticipation and barely disguised fear as she let the clamp
snap together with my already sore and aching nipple between the serrated edges.

I know I screamed. I screamed again as I was overwhelmed by the agony in my poor suffering nipple.
“Aaaargh! You didn’t tell me you were going to let it snap down on my nip!”

“It’s good though, isn’t it darling?”

“Yes, oh yes, but it’s almost too much for me.” I groaned and nursed my tit, feeling the pain suffusing all
of it as I continued to whimper, tears running down my face.

“Too much for you! You know this is nowhere near what you really need so don’t tell me it’s too much
for you. Now do my other one.”

“Yes Mommy, yes!”

She held out her other tit in trembling hands. Cruelly I held the open clamp around her proffered nipple
but didn’t let it snap to immediately.

“Beg for it, mom, beg for it.”

“Yes, yes! Hurt my nipple darling, please hurt my nipple!”

I shook my head.

“Darling, darling, hurt your Mommy, hurt your Mommy, oh, please hurt your Mommy!”

I let the clamp snap shut on her nipple and watched as her eyes rolled back and she sank to her knees,
unable to even scream as her nipple pain overwhelmed her. Eventually she recovered enough to get,
with difficulty, back to her feet.

“Oh, you little bitch! Give me your other nipple.”

Filled equally with erotic arousal and dread, I held out my tit and watched as mom snapped the last
clamp down on it. The pain was nearly overwhelming and I felt myself sink into an intense cum where
pain and wonderful pleasure combined to take me somewhere else, somewhere of total, twisted
rapture, the place I always sought but so seldom found. I know I writhed on the floor and, so Mommy
tells me, pinching down on the clamps and screaming every time I did so.

Eventually, through her own pain and arousal, she started to worry that I might never stop.

When I finally recovered enough to think coherently again I looked up at her kneeling before me and
saw that she was holding two toilet brushes.

“Time for your cunt pain, darling. Push it all the way into your cunt.”

I was almost unable to get to my knees before holding out my hand for a brush. Spreading my knees I
pushed the bristles against my cunt, forcing it in against the natural resistance of my engorged cunt lips.
Grasping the handle in both hands I pulled the brush head into myself, feeling the bristles scrape on my
lips and the inside of my cunt and bring me, once again, close to an overwhelming cum.

I pushed it into myself as far as I could force it. It felt like a thousand needles were piercing me inside. I
was groaning and crying as I tormented myself but wanting even more.

“Fuck me with it, Mommy, fuck your little girl with it!”

“Let me do mine first, little girl. I need it as much as you do!”

She grasped her brush by the handle and pushed it against her swollen and bruised cunt until it gave
way and the brush slowly disappeared into that, oh so willing, flesh.

I grasped my own toilet brush handle and pushed my cunt out toward my mother.

“Fuck me with it, Mommy, fuck your little girl with it.”

Still trembling and crying from her own cunt pain, she grasped the handle of the brush lodged so
painfully in my own cunt and started to push and pull on it, fucking my suffering flesh with the stiff,
sharp intruding bristles. I felt it as though a thousand needles were being forced, time after time, into
my pain wracked interior.

I came, and then I came again, thrusting myself out against the intruder, loving the pain and the
distorted pleasure that suffused my spasming body. Eventually Mommy stopped torturing me, although
I wanted her to continue. I slowly returned to whatever counts as normal for us and looked at my
mother.

“My turn! Fuck me with it now!” she demanded.

So I fucked her and she spasmed as I had done.

“More, darling, more! Fuck your Mommy, hurt your Mommy!”

Eventually I stopped fucking her and she, like me, slowly recovered from her experience.

“We’ll have that done to us at the party. Now we’ve fucked ourselves with the brushes the inside of our
cunts will be really sore and ready for being hurt by their brushes. Now, I’ll pull yours out and you can
pull mine. I’ll go first.”

It prickled and pulled on my cunt’s walls, hurting almost as it had when it had fucked me. Eventually it
was completely withdrawn and I knelt there recovering for a few minutes. But Mommy’s brush still
needed pulling out and I grasped the handle and slowly pulled the bristles from her tormented cunt.

Eventually, it pulled free and she collapsed over her own pain.

I loved her then, loved her as my partner in perverted pleasure and pain, loved her as the mother who
had taught me so much about myself and loved her as my lover, the lover from whom I could hide
nothing, that I wanted to know everything about myself and my twisted needs. “Now our nipples, mom,
– or, or should we wear our clamps to the party, just to show what real pain sluts we are?”

“Uh, no, darling, just think how much it will hurt putting them back on at the party. Lets take them off
now.”

“OK. But the same way we did it last time. Count of three!”

“Right! Count of three: one, two, three – – Ahhhhrrrgh!!”

Because, on three we both released the clamps and pulled them from each other’s nipples, leaving us
once again nursing our tits and nipples as the pain of returning blood flow suffused our tits, bringing
tears to our eyes and moans from our lips as we fell forward into each other’s arms.

“Oh! Mommy, it all hurts so much and it’s all so wonderful! I just don’t want it to stop!”

“We’ll get to the party and then you’ll get all the pain you want.”

So, we went to the party. Each wearing a black, pin lined, leather bra and tight, tight, crotchless leather
pants, pants so tight that they made even walking difficult and black leather ballet boots to restrict our
mobility even further.

We were more than ready for more.

Of course our torturing bras hurt us with every movement so we were constantly aroused and already
longing to cum.

Walking was an effort, we were forced to take little tottering steps in our ballet boots and had difficulty
even getting to the front door where our transport was waiting.

At this point I should introduce our driver.

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