The Game Players:

Carina, or Carrie, that’s me – age 18, height 5 foot 11 inches, weight 165 pounds, measurements, 42D bust/30 waist/42 hips.

Cassandra, my mother – age 40, height 5 foot 11 inches, weight 160 pounds. Measurements, 40C bust/32 waist/40 hips.

Janine, my grandmother, Cassandra’s Mother – age 59, height 5 foot 10 inches, weight 170 pounds, measurements, 42D bust/34 waist/44 hips.

The two people closest to me are my mom and my grandma. Mom and I have been a single parent household for a long time now, and grandma Jan is so often involved with us too. We are all lesbians and a bit kinky, and all pretty much Domme too. But we don’t compete or try to push each other around, everyone’s comfortable. And we are not sexual with each other, but very open about our sex lives and preferences and kinks. I’m close to mom now, but right after the divorce, it was kind of difficult for me to communicate with her. She was loving and did her best with me, and I realize now that I was just generally hurt and confused at that time. So when I was discovering my sexuality I would always go to grandma Jan to ask questions and talk about things that were on my mind. She was really my mentor, sexually and as a Domme. I finally relaxed with mom too, and we were also very frank and open about the same things.

As I grew up we were, I think, a pretty “healthy” family, mentally and physically. We did all the normal fun things that families do, and in a way we were almost like girlfriends too. It was probably unusual, but all 3 generations of us treated each other with respect and as equals. We all had our own friends and interests too of course. I don’t want to imply that we were some strange, eccentric recluses that only had each other. That was not the case at all. We went our separate ways more often than we were together. But when we did things together it was great. One of our favorite things was working out at the gym together. And here we were all pretty competitive, every one of us wanting to come out ahead here, or to win whatever game we were playing. But it was a healthy sort of competition, when it was over it was over. And it paid dividends, we were all 3 in terrific shape. And I admit we were a little vain about our looks. If I do say so we were a beautiful, sexy 3-some, even if our ages ranged from 18 (me) to 59 (grandma Jan). When we went out together we got “looks” and approaches from everyone, men and women. And we took some of the women up on it too . . . LOL!

I don’t believe any of us was the snoopy type, I know I never was. But one day when I got home from school mom was out, she had planned a dinner with a client of hers. I was just going to bed and read, I had an early day coming up and when I went past her office to my room I saw her computer was on. She usually shuts it down when she leaves but she must have forgotten, so I went in to do it for her. Of course then I saw what was on her screen, it was a picture of a woman tied up tight and with a desperate expression on her face. There was some wording beneath it and I couldn’t help myself, I scrolled down and began to read. The picture wasn’t shocking at all, I knew mom liked BDSM, so did I, but the story was something I’d never heard about before. I read it, fascinated, and then I read some more that were linked in. It was really, really arousing, and I took a break to masturbate. I was hooked, this was new and VERY exciting; I needed to know more about it! Well, then I DID snoop . . . I checked her favorites and browsing history.

I found lots and lots of extreme BDSM “porn” of all sorts. I wasn’t shocked at all, I had the same sort of thing on MY computer, and I was pretty sure grandma Jan did also. And I wondered if SHE was into this “dangerous escape” thing too, just like mom? But I was sure what I wanted, I followed links to more “escape” stories! I sat there and read and read some more . . . and I masturbated over and over as I continued to read! I was absolutely mesmerized! This was HOT!

I don’t know where the time went, it seemed to me like ½ hour or so, but when I heard mom’s voice behind me I jumped in shock. She wasn’t due home for hours I had thought, then I looked at the time and date on her computer. I had been looking at her “dangerous escape” collection for 4 hours! Oh my God! And now I was ashamed of being caught at her computer. One of the understood “conditions” of our openness about sex; about everything as a matter of fact, was “NO SNOOPING”. I spun around in her chair and apologized, “oh mom I’m sorry, really, I just . . . ?“. Why had I done this, snooped? I was confused but I stumbled on, “I just saw your computer on when I came in and was only going to shut it down, but then I . . .”. I realized I was going to create a bigger problem for myself so I shut up. Mom gave me a hard look and said, “CARRIE”, I could tell she was mad. But she pulled up a side chair and sat next to me, then said, “so let’s see what you’ve been snooping . . . of my PRIVATE things”! When she sat next to me she could clearly see that I had my skirt hiked up to my waist and no underwear on. And at my feet were my wadded-up, sopping wet panties that I’d thrown down there hours ago. I was caught for sure.

Well, now I HAD to show her what I’d been looking at, so I re-visited some of her sites that dealt with this particular fantasy. She smiled, but then she got serious and said to me, “sweetheart I can see you got excited (smiling again) about this”, then she added, “stand up dear”, which of course I did. “Well, I can see you got VERY excited”, she said and laughed out loud. I looked down and saw a huge wet spot on her chair. I was so embarrassed! She just laughed again, and I sat back down. “You need to be very, VERY careful you know”, she warned me. “If you’re tempted DON’T just jump in on your own, talk to me first”, she said in a serious tone of voice.

I took a deep breath and Started speaking: “Mom, I’m really sorry I got into your computer, but this “escape” fetish has turned me on more than I can believe. I HAVE to try it, I won’t be able to stop myself! I’m sorry, but I know myself, and I won’t be able to let this go until I’ve tried it!” Mom looked at me for a long time, a serious look on her face. Finally, not looking happy about it she said, “well, if you’re going to try this, I know I won’t be able to stop you, you’ll find a time, a place and a way”. Then she went to a drawer and took some things out and turned to me, holding them behind her. “If you’re intent on doing this you need me watching over you”, she said, “and there’s no time like the present”. I smiled and gasped excitedly, I know she could see my eyes sparkle with desire. Looking stern she said, “into the living room with you little missy”!

I was so excited I almost ran out there and I stood waiting for her, licking my lips. When she came in she said to me, “strip and lay down in the middle of the floor”. Instantly . . . shoes kicked off, skirt slipped off, top pulled over my head, bra unfastened and slipped off . . . everything just tossed aside in my excitement. Then I lay face down on the floor waiting expectantly. Mom knelt down beside me and I saw her holding a head harness with a large ball gag before my eyes. I turned my head to look up at her and said, “I don’t need that mom, just tie me up”. But she replied, “you DO need it sweetheart, I say so”. “Well, she’s the expert” I thought so I held my mouth open for her. The gag was even bigger than it looked and mom had to use her strength to force it into my mouth. It hurt, I didn’t like it, but it was so big I couldn’t just push it out. Then she began to tighten the straps pulling it deep and tight into my mouth. It hurt, I whimpered, WHAT was she going to do to me . . . punish me somehow for my snooping? When she had finished strapping the gag harness in I heard a tiny “click” then another. I felt her hands on my wrists and then some rope being wrapped around them and pulled tight. She then bound my elbows together, then my ankles. “I’ll be done soon darling, then we’ll see if you still like the “escape game”, she said. By now I wasn’t sure anymore! For one, I had never been in bondage before; and two, my mother and I NEVER played together, even though we talked about our playtimes with others, our kinks, our sexual turn-on’s.

Then I felt her fingers, wet and cold with lube between my legs, opening me up. I felt a large metal egg pushed into my vagina, and then the same thing; cold fingers, then another egg, pushed into my rear. When she had done this she quickly tied more rope around my legs, just above my knees and then just below my buttocks. And they were TIGHT! I thought maybe she was finished, but no; she threaded rope between my ankles and then between the ropes holding my elbows tight. Then another piece of rope, through the d-ring at the top of the head harness, and that was pulled back hard and tied off to my tightly bound ankles. She pushed my legs, pulled that rope, pulled my head further and further back, again and again until she had my ankles drawn back close to my elbows and my head near then as well, my neck arched painfully. My body was sharply arched backwards and I was almost in the shape of the letter “O”. IT HURT! Then she rolled me onto my side saying, “O.K. sweetie, it’s time to play . . . go ahead and escape”. I was maybe sorry I got involved in this. But then I remembered some of the stories I had just read and started to get a little wet. And then she switched on the vibrating eggs, and I whined and squirmed in arousal. “I hope those don’t distract you dear, you’ll need to concentrate on the ropes”, she said laughing. Well, I had no choice at that point so I started stretching and twisting my fingers around looking for the knots in the ropes. Damn it I was going to DO this!

But it wasn’t as easy as it seemed in the stories! I must have struggled for a ½ hour when I saw mom pick up her phone and key in a number. After a moment: “Hi mom. You’ll never guess what - - - your snoopy little grand-daughter got into my computer and found out about the little games we love so much. - - - no she wasn’t shocked, in fact it got her all aroused and curious - - - well she seemed determined - - - she’s here right now in fact - - - I’m afraid you can’t talk to her mom, she’s “indisposed” - - - no, not that, I decided to teach her a lesson so right at this moment she’s trying out our game for herself - - - I’m sitting here on the sofa with a glass of wine watching her - - - not much progress, she’s been at it for ½ hour now and she looks tired and frustrated - - - well OF COURSE I made it hard for her, I wanted to teach her a lesson - - - that’s right, ropes, and knotted tight and my biggest ball gag too; I just want to watch her not hear her - - - yes, it’s a tough one, I’m not sure either of US could get out of it even with all of our experience - - - but I don’t WANT her to, that’s the point mom - - - sure come on over, we can finish off a bottle of wine while your slutty little grand-daughter puts on a show for us - - - see you in a half hour mom - - - Yes, I love you too mom.”

Then she said to me, “I guess you heard that sweetie . . . your grandma will be over soon and we’ll see how entertaining you can be”. And with that she laughed out loud and left the room. That made me angry and frustrated and gave me an anticipation of the humiliation I’d feel when grandma Jan saw me like this. But I was even more determined now, everything mom said made me angry and determined and I attacked the knots with renewed energy. I would show them both! But it was sooooo much harder than I’d imagined. My hands started to tingle from being bound tight at the wrists and I was afraid they’d go numb. And twisting my hands and fingers around to pick at the knots was difficult and after a bit of this they cramped up and I had to straighten them out and give them a rest. But then back at those knots, I’d show them . . . and I’d show mom and grandma Jan too.

I was finally getting one of them loosened and was feeling better about my chances when the doorbell rang. Grandma Jan of course and mom answered it. I heard, “Hi mom”, then the sound of a kiss, then “our escape artist is in the living room” as they both laugh. I heard heels clicking on the entry floor and in a moment they were standing in front of me, smiling at my un-interrupted struggles with the rope. Mom said to grandma, “I did her up really well, I’m not even sure you or I could get out of it, so I know she won’t” and more laughter. That just made me angry . . . and determined. I went at the knots with renewed concentration. Mom and grandma got themselves some wine and sat down on the sofa. They clicked on the TV and started streaming a movie. They took a look at me occasionally, but mostly just sat there and watched the TV. I was right in front of the sofa and at one point mom put her feet up onto my butt, her stiletto heels digging in sharply. I screamed (muffled of course) and bucked and mom and grandma laughed and laughed. Grandma turned to mom and said, I’d be careful if she gets loose Cassie”. “Yeah, but she won’t”, mom replied, and they turned their attention back to the TV movie. I would SHOW them, I WOULD!

It took me over 4 hours to get out, but I did it! By then mom and grandma had fallen asleep on the sofa. Mom had gotten home and discovered me at around 8:00 and now it was close to 1:00 am. I was exhausted, I hurt all over, I was so stiff I could barely move. But I was FREE! I was going to wake them up and show them I had escaped their “inescapable” bondage, but then I had another idea. I had all the ropes, so I slowly, carefully, gently tied each of their ankles together and then tied mom’s ankles to grandma Janine’s then slipped the ropes under the sofa and tied the ends to the opposite sofa legs. They didn’t stir in the least as I did this, maybe a bit too much wine I thought. Then I took a long piece of rope and tied one end off to a sofa leg at the rear of the sofa, right where I had tied their ankle ropes. Then again very gently and carefully I pulled it tight and looped it loosely around each of their necks in turn. They were sort of leaning on each others’ shoulders, so their heads were close together, touching. I left that part a little slack, I didn’t want to kill them just scare them. Then I pulled the other end of that rope over the back of the sofa and tied it off to the other back leg. I had to re-do it a couple of times to be sure it was snug and unescapable but loose enough so they wouldn’t strangle (and also NOT wake them) but snug enough to make sure they couldn’t just slip their heads out. I stepped back and admired my handiwork. All the knots were at the back legs of the sofa and they couldn’t possible stretch themselves to reach them. I’d show THEM . . . they were caught and caught good!

Then I called my friend Hilary to see if she wanted to go out to some clubs. Of course she was up for that, so I told her I’d meet her in an hour, and went into my bathroom to shower and then dress (sexy) for our evening out. I took a last look at my “sleeping beauties” still snoozing peacefully, completely unaware what a predicament they were in. I would love to be there when they woke up, but it might be a long time yet and I was more in the mood to enjoy myself, to “celebrate” my victory over that bondage mom had put me into. “Inescapable” HAH . . . I think I showed them I was their equal. And if they couldn’t get out of mine, well that would prove I was better than they were. Then, laughing to myself, imagining what they would think when they awoke . . . ALONE in our condo. Then I walked out the door.

Of course I had a hard time concentrating on having fun, just letting go. I kept thinking about how I’d fixed up mom and grandma and wondering if they were awake yet. I was dying to know their reaction. I was pretty sure MY bondage really was inescapable, but I wanted to know for sure. So finally after about 1:00 am, I started calling both mom’s and grandma’s mobile phones. I was sure they were nearby, and also that they couldn’t reach them, so I hoped this would wake them up. When I came in the door I wanted to see the looks on their faces. After about 10 calls to each one I relaxed and did start to really enjoy the night. But I was still wondering about them, so after another hour or so I told Hilary we were heading home (I didn’t tell her why though) and we left. After I’d dropped her off and returned home, I was so excited. I thought they’d be awake and I could hardly wait to see and hear their reactions.

Well when I walked in the door I wasn’t disappointed. They were awake all right, and the minute they saw me they started in. “How did you get free? . . . let us go NOW . . . wait til I get my hands on you, you little bitch . . . Oh you’ll be sooo sorry”. And of course they were struggling vigorously now, and as they squirmed and fought the ropes searching for a way out they started bickering too. “CASSIE, stop that . . . hold still mom . . . for God’s sake, stop squirming . . . Cassie, stop it, you’re choking me.” I loved seeing them so angry . . . and helpless to do anything about it. I left them there struggling and threatening me and went to the closet where I knew mom kept her “toy box”. She had SOOOO much there, but I just picked out a couple of the biggest ball gags I could find. They were the kind with a harness on them, not just a single strap, I guess that’s what mom preferred. When I returned to the living room holding them, the first thing I heard was, “you’d better NOT missy”. I didn’t want to hear any more and I quickly silenced mom. The gag was really large and I had to force it to get it deep into her mouth, even hitting it with the heel of my hand. After tightening all the straps mom’s only sound was a muffled, shrill whine. Then on to grandma Janine, “oh no, please Carrie, don’t do thi . . .”. Her plea was cut off by the gag I forced into her mouth. Buckled tight, she was as quiet as mom, although they were both still extremely angry. But it had dawned on them the fix they were in, and I wondered, did I detect a bit of fear in those eyes? Well, at least I would get a quiet night and a good rest. Just before I went in to bed I turned and said, “sweet dreams ladies . . . I trust I’ll see you both here in the morning”? You can imagine the struggling and attempted kicking and muffled screams as I left the room with a chuckle.

The next morning they were indeed still there. So whether I was better at escapes than they were or not, I knew I was better at bondage. I came to stand in front of them and looked down smiling. They had the idea to kick at me, but their ankles were bound together and to the back legs of the sofa, but they couldn’t even co-ordinate a kick. They gave up, knowing they were defeated . . . I could see it in both pairs of eyes. And were there some tears streaking those pretty faces? It was time to take some pictures now. I took many. Many and made sure I got faces into them too, even as they tried to look away, look down. I was too quick for them and if I wasn’t a pull on the hair got the face in line for a shot.

When I had plenty of “incriminating evidence” I sent them all to my friend Hilary with instructions to keep them safe, but to send them out (to a list I had provided her) if I ever told her to. I took off both the gags, but now all they could do was breathe deep, they had nothing to say anymore. So then I asked them if I could “join their gang” as I put it. At first there was . . . “oh no sweetie, it’s far too risky . . . I don’t think you know how difficult it can be . . . etc., etc.”. But after I reminded that I had escaped THEIR bondage, but they hadn’t escaped MINE . . . and told them what would happen with those pictures they agreed. “And forgive and forget”, I asked? They both nodded yes.

So I was finally one of them, and probably better at their extreme escape games than either of them were. And I don’t know if it was “forgive and forget” for them, but they knew that those pictures were in Hilary’s hands and any attempt to go back on their promise would send them out there . . . ruining their lives. So we worked on escape games together now. We were all good though, and we were competitive and kept pushing each other with new challenges. I found myself absolutely addicted to this “escape game” we played. By mid-summer we were all much improved, very confident and seeking some sort of “ultimate” challenge for all 3 of us together. After endless ideas, discussions, arguments, etc. we did begin to develop a plan for a challenge. It had to be extremely difficult and the penalty for failure had to be extreme too. We finally agreed on something, and it was indeed extreme . . . life-and-death extreme in fact. We were agreed, we picked a date . . . weekend after next, mid-August. This would give us the time to refine our plans and acquire any “supplies and equipment” we needed.

So, our plan . . .

We knew of an abandoned picnic shelter in a closed part of one of the forest preserves parks out in the suburbs. There was an old road there, very overgrown, but fortunately one of our cars was an all-wheel drive SUV. The old shelter was about 2 miles from the road in, further from the parking lot. We had been there a couple of days before to check it out one final time. It was clear that no-one had been near there for a long, long time. We agreed this was the ideal spot for our game to stay private.

The shelter itself had, for the most part, weathered away. The roof was gone, only a few scraps of lumber were left from the benches, but the frame had been made of steel, and it endured, rusted but as strong as the day it was put up. So there remained 4 steel uprights with steel crossbeams joining them. It was in a square shape so one of us would be positioned at each of 3 sides, so we could watch each other.

Each one of us will be set up for the escape as follows: We each have sets of locking leather cuffs, wrist, elbow, thigh and ankle. These will be tightened and locked at the appropriate spots, wrists, ankles, just above the elbows and just above the knees. There is a cable running down through the elbow cuffs to one wrist cuff and attached there with a snap, like a carabiner that climbers use. It is of a length that it must be pulled down hard to draw the elbows fully together. Once any of us frees their wrists, which won’t be easy even after we have the key in hand, because our elbows will still be tight together behind our backs. Then step two. The second escape step will be to twist a hand around and un-snap the carabiner. And that won’t be easy; the tension on the snap will make it extremely difficult to un-snap. We’ve tested this many times over so we’re sure everything we’ve planned will work. We’ve tested EVERYTHING many times over. We don’t want to set ourselves up for a disaster with escape plans that can’t possibly work. But of course we couldn’t “test” the entire thing only the individual pieces. Still, we’re all confident that this is a very difficult but do-able challenge.

Also we each have a ball-gag harness chosen together, the largest that would fit in each of our mouths. And they just barely fit, needing some force to seat them deep . . . they are absolute silencers, we don’t want any one of us panicking and calling for help, even as secluded as we were to be. To make it a REAL contest it has to be winnable; ONLY by one of us escaping, with no help. Every strap was to be TIGHT, the gag harnesses, the wrist and ankle cuffs, the vibe belt . . . everything! And it was all padlocked. The keys to all the locks are “match keyed”; the same as the ones locking our wrists together behind our backs. THAT key was the “key” to the escape. THE 3 keys would be frozen inside individual ice cubes. Those ice cubes would be pushed up between our butt-cheeks as tight and as far as they could go and then had to be held there by keeping our butt-cheeks clenched tight. A key that slipped away as the ice melted meant you couldn’t escape.

And THEN, as if the ice cube task isn’t difficult enough, a real challenge . . . a special vibrator set-up we dreamed up and finally put together. There is a snug leather strap around the waist and a wet rawhide one between the legs, all locking together in back. We would each have a very large vibrating bullet inside our pussies and our asses, and another positioned directly above our clit. This last one is held in the right place with an added little pouch that kept it pressed up tight. These we had custom-made for each of us, and they are very snug, tight even, when they are locked on. The ice cubes go in after that, pushed up against the rawhide. We tried them out ahead of time (without the ice cubes), and oh God, what an effect! The idea is to see which of us could ignore the distraction of building arousal and the undeniable orgasms that followed. And they are VERY distracting, a difficult challenge indeed to try and ignore them. The reason the part between the legs that held them inside was made of rawhide that had soaked along with all the other rawhide parts is so that this too would begin to shrink as it dried, cutting deeper and deeper between our legs as the day want on. This might become quite painful, another distraction. But the best thing, quite an innovation we thought; is that they are all computer-controlled in random patterns. You might be right on the edge and everything shuts off leaving you there. That is as big a distraction in itself as actually having an orgasm. These little tormenters and our laptop were powered by the car battery, and at the level of power they consumed they could probably run for a day or 2. Scary to think of THAT!

We had three sets of pulleys that would be suspended in the center of a crossbeam. The last bit was a serious challenge. We had a rawhide loop for each of our necks and those fastened to a rawhide rope that fed through each pulley and was solidly anchored to a metal stake we had previously driven into the ground behind each position. The night before we would soak the rawhide ropes and loops in water, so they got fully soaked. When we take them out to our chosen site we will leave them soaking until the last minute. Then, once there we will all get “into uniform” and run each rope through the overhead pulleys and fasten it to the stake at the proper height, then to the throat loop. Of course we can’t do this for ourselves so each of us will do another. Everyone knows (?) that rawhide shrinks up as it dries. So the long rawhide rope up through the pulleys and anchored to the ground will slowly pull us up by our necks and eventually, if we haven’t freed ourselves, our feet will leave the ground and we will hang. We have planned this for mid-August and that old shelter we are using is in a clearing with direct sunlight on it all day. We have gone out there many, many times in preparation for the actual contest and had measured and re-measured carefully, each of us checking out the others.

It will take a LONG, uncomfortable time for those ice-cubes to melt, as they will be made a little larger than standard cubes. And this will become VERY uncomfortable too as we feel our butts freezing. AND when they finally do melt we have to have our hands cupped and positioned precisely to catch them when we un-clench and release them. If you drop that ONE key, you wouldn’t escape the slowly tightening rawhide. We wanted a “dangerous possibility” to make it all more exciting, but we are all certain that ONE of us will escape and can then free the other 2.

Once we arrive on “the day” we will each prepare one another. Getting the gags strapped in, the cuffs, the belts tightened, everything locked. We would draw straws for “who did who”. Only one of us will handle her own “last detail”; that of getting her head into the loop and snugging it to the proper size, then locking her cuffs together and finally clicking that last, ever so important padlock onto her wrist cuffs. This last is necessary of course, since the other 2 would already be locked in place and couldn’t do it. We elected grandma Janine to do this, both mom and I knew we can trust her fully! We have to make absolutely certain this will be an EQUAL contest. I don’t think any of us would cheat, but our trust in grandma is the strongest.

THEN, nothing to do but wait for the ice cubes to melt. We have tested the ice cubes melting rate and figure it will take from 4 to 5 hours to finish and release the keys. And the rawhide shrinkage rates and the proper lengths must be coordinated with this, so that there actually IS time for the cubes to melt before our necks “get stretched”. A LONG day on our feet, probably on tip-toe, straining towards the end. My legs are already feeling tired. Fortunately we are all fit, in excellent shape, or we’d never dare to try something like this.

“The day” arrives at last. My God, we are all so, SO excited!

Since we’ve tested the ice cube melting rate at 4 to 5 hours, we get started at 8:00 that morning. It will take us almost an hour to drive to our “spot” and then another hour to get everything, and ourselves, ready. If we get started between 10 and 10:30 we will be there in the heat of the day, in direct sun for at least 7 to 8 hours. That’s of time for us to complete the challenge and get back home for a celebration. I think I will be the winner, but I’ll bet we all feel that way. That’s one thing we never talked about, we are all extremely competitive and we didn’t want to get into “trash talk”. The results will tell the story.

We agreed that grandma Janine would stay the night with us, so we would all be equal in our opportunity to rest and sleep. We have talked this through so much while planning it, we seem to be “talked out” on it. We had a nice dinner out, then home, a few glasses of wine, then early to bed. Now we have been up since 5 am and I could hardly sleep from excitement. I force myself to be relaxed, but with little success. I know I’ll need all my focus and energy to win this, and I WILL win it. I can see that mom and grandma are in the same frame of mind even though we are all trying to act calm. We decided to leave at 8 but we are all packed up and ready long before that. We have to force ourselves to wait. We need to follow every part of our plans, if we start improvising now it will all get out of hand.

I am the one who drives there. I volunteered . . . maybe it will help my nervous excitement? It is slow going on that abandoned track, and we stop a few times to be sure we haven’t left signs of our passage. After we’re ¼ mile off the road we don’t worry about that any more. Finally I pull up near the old metal structure. We all get out . . . I know MY heart is beating hard and fast and I have to keep telling myself to stay calm. Mom and grandma go around and open up the back where we’ve stowed everything. I stand by the vehicle for a moment then, I have NO idea why, I toss the car keys far out into the brush. Maybe an additional challenge after we’re done and ready to head back home? I have no idea and I don’t care, nothing to be done about it now.

We each get our own bag from the back of the SUV and put them where “our” place will be under the beams. We’ve drawn our lots as to who helps who. Mom will help grandma Janine start her preparations, and she will finish on her own. I will prepare mom. And grandma will prepare me. The first thing, as we all agreed ahead of time is that we gag each other before anything else. We work at it quickly, each of us snugging up the others’ gags. The balls are bigger than I remember, and I have to push hard on mom’s gag and pound it in with the heel of my hand to get it in deep, past her teeth. Then I tighten her in. I hear mom whimper through her gag and squirm around a bit, giving me a questioning frown. Then I pull her gag harness even tighter than I did it before and lock it quickly. Now she really squeals. I know it’s already hurting her jaws, and I don’t even care. But then it’s my turn and grandma Janine is just as rough with me as I was with mom. And I squeal too, just like mom did. And I know how she feels now, my jaws already ache and I feel my saliva starting to ooze out around my gag. And I can see that mom does the same to grandma Janine. Something about us all being unable to speak now, and a bit “lost” in the preparation is making us all a little cruel. Did I start this I wonder? And I discover it’s not that easy to breathe while my mouth is stuffed with that huge rubber ball. I fight to breathe through my nose. I hope we figured this out correctly . . . but it’s too late to say anything!

Now that we’re all gagged, we work together to get the pulleys securely mounted on the beams. We bolt them on, we’ve brought all the tools we’ll need for everything, including a ladder to reach the beams. We get the tub with the soaking straps and throat loops in it, and dump it all out. Then each rope in turn is threaded through a pulley and secured to the stakes we had previously driven into the ground for that purpose. The ends hang ready, with a metal ring at the end of each so it can be locked to each of our throat loops. We’re all beaded with perspiration and can feel the heat of the sun . . . it will be a hot day! I wonder briefly if we did the calculations and tests on ice-cube melting and rawhide shrinkage correctly. Mom’s a lawyer and doesn’t know much math, but Grandma’s an engineer and should be good at this. I wonder if anyone else has doubts. I trust grandma’s math, but we couldn’t test the exact same conditions we will have today, temperature, humidity, wind, etc. . . . too many variables. Well, none of is of a mind to stop now, this thing we’re doing has a momentum, a life of its own now.

When we’ve finished with getting the pulleys and rawhide ropes set up, it’s time to start with the rest of our preparations. Mom starts with grandma. She puts all the cuffs on her and stuffs and straps the bullets inside her. That she locks, but the cuffs will have to wait, grandma Janine will need to finish her own preparations right before we start. The tricky thing is that cable from the elbows to snap onto the wrist cuffs, it has to be tight, but we’ve figured out a way (well, SHE is actually the one who “figured it out”, but we all tested her method) that she can do it herself.

I take the rest of mom’s stuff and start with her other bondage. Then I walk her over to where she is directly beneath the pulley and the hanging end of “her” wet rawhide rope. Next I slip the throat loop over her head and snug it down, then fasten it to the hanging rawhide rope with a padlock. Now she’s not going anywhere while I finish working on her. I make sure the suspension rope is directly behind her head so her face will be pulled down, not up, so she can see both grandma Janine and me. We’ve agreed to do it this way so we can each watch the other two struggle, and if the struggles aren’t effective then watch them die. I feel a chill and shudder as that thought crosses my mind. I hope we didn’t OVER challenge ourselves.

And then the cuffs. I don’t fasten them together yet, just snug them up tight and lock each one individually, wrists, elbows, thighs and ankles. I realize that I’m tightening everything even tighter than we did in our practice sessions, just like I did with mom’s ball gag. And I’m going to keep doing it, I’m not sure why but it’s gotten me really aroused. Then the strap around her waist and the rawhide strap between her legs. The waist tightened and fastened first, then the bullets up inside her 2 holes. We’ve lubed them up generously, but it takes a bit of a shove to get them into her, and she gives a gagged squeal with each push into her holes. And then that rawhide between her legs to lock everything in. I pull this one extra tight too, eliciting some squeals and squirming from mom. I pull it even tighter before locking it. It’s pulled up deep into her crotch and I can see her pussy lips forced out to the sides of the strap. And it’s going to shrink and pull into her even deeper. Now I lock her elbows together and run the cable up through her elbow lock then pull it down tight and snap it to a cuff and lock her wrists together. THIS last lock is the only lock with a key “handy” and the way we must make our escape.

She can’t do anything about any of it, and I like that feeling . . . I “feel” her helplessness and it arouses me even more. She stands there, eyes closed, breathing deeply. I think she’s getting ready mentally for this ordeal. It’s exciting to be doing all of this to her . . . I wonder how I’ll feel when MY turn comes? And then I notice that mom’s strapped pussy is red and swollen . . . and is dripping wet. Maybe that’s the secret to keeping that the rawhide that cuts into it wet enough that it doesn’t shrink as quickly. She’s aroused alright! I wonder what she’ll do when the vibrator in that little cup pressed up tight against her clit comes on. I wonder what I’ll do then? I look her up and down. I know she is a beauty, but I think she’s never looked more beautiful than she does right now, standing there so tightly bound she can barely move . . . so very helpless . . . I LIKE seeing her that way. I run my hands across her breast and she gives a shudder, then down her belly and her lush thighs. I give her a kiss on her right nipple and give it a nibble as well and she shudders again, eyes still closed. She’s standing motionless, straining to take deep breaths through her nose. I wonder if she’s having second thoughts about doing this?

And now it IS my turn. Grandma Janine leads me over under my assigned pulley, slips my throat loop over my head and snugs it up, then snaps it to the ring on the hanging rawhide. Again, behind my head so I can watch the two others as they struggle to escape. This is making me so hot I clench my thighs together and squirm, arousing myself even more.

As I might have known she tightens all my cuffs as tightly as she can . . . and she’s a strong woman. I’m tingling where the cuffs squeeze into me and I just hope my hands don’t go numb. Should we REALLY be doing this I wonder? Now my set of bullets are forced into my holes, and she’s rough and pushes them in DEEP. And with the belt and rawhide strap she’s even tougher. She tightens the belt so it cuts into my waist deep, I feel it dig in every time I take a breath, and the rawhide parting my pussy lips is pulled in so deep it already hurts. Then she quickly locks my knees together then my ankles then my elbows and finally my wrists. A wave of complete helplessness hits me when she pulls that cable through my locked elbows to my wrists and snaps it in place. And now I understand why mom was whimpering when I strapped and locked her up. It is all VERY uncomfortable bordering on painful . . . and it will get worse as the day goes on!

I have grave doubts about this now, now that it’s real, but it’s too late to do anything about them. It was fun while we were planning and testing everything and calculating. But what if we made mistakes? What if NONE of us can escape in time? Now I see why our logic for gagging ourselves right at the start was correct. We felt that if we, or any one of us, got cold feet at the last minute we would talk each other out of going through with it. I think we were right! I saw the doubt and fear in mom’s eyes just before she closed them and went into her “zone”. But somehow, unable to speak to one another we just went on with “the process”, second thoughts or not. I hoped that wasn’t a mistake. But too late now if it was! And amid my doubts I began to wonder if we really COULD trust grandma Janine? By being the last one and finishing her own preparations she could easily cheat and win the contest. Or worse yet . . . she might decide to stay free and just watch mom and I struggle and suffer. God, I was getting paranoid! NO I tell myself, I’ve practiced these things over and over. Even if a calculation is off here or there I WEILL do it. I WILL escape, and I will be the first, and I will be the winner.

Now it’s time for grandma to finish preparing herself, but first she must do 2 things. She comes to mom then to me and connects the wires dangling out of our holes from those bullets to the leads from the computer, and she attaches her own too. There is enough slack in the wires so that she can easily walk over to her position under the beams without disconnecting them. Then she keys some passwords into the computer; then “enter” starts the program that controls the vibrating bullets. We weren’t sure how long it would take for the last one to complete the preparations, so a 10 minute delay is programmed in. There will be 10 minutes where nothing happens, then the bullets will start going on. Everything is randomized, the speed and intensity of vibration, the frequency with which they go on, the duration of the vibration period before they go off again. And primarily the rotation they follow, completely random. One of us could have both bullets running at maximum and the others’ might be only partially on. So what we are each experiencing from those vibrations will never be the same for all of us at the same time. I remember our tests and those things were extreme! I wonder now just how distracting they’ll be. Again doubts about everything flash across my mind, but I manage to put them aside . . . for now,

Then she opens the little picnic cooler we brought the keys in. We froze them into those cubes 2 days ago, and this morning packed them in the cooler with some dry ice so that would not melt at all until the last minute. She comes to mom and spreads her butt-cheeks apart and pushes a cube tight against the rawhide strap cutting into her rear, then mom clenches. That cube, the key inside it is the key to life for her, as it is for us all. Then it’s my turn and grandma does the same to me. OH GOD! That cube is sooo cold, colder than freezing because of the dry ice. It’s so cold it burns! But I know how important the key inside it is, and I make sure I stay clenched tight until it melts enough to free the key.

Now mom is done with her “meditation” or whatever she was thinking when she had her eyes closed. We both watch grandma Janine go over to her station and finish her preparations. I have my concerns about how honest she will be, and I think mom must too, but there is nothing to be done about them now . . . we’ll just have to hope she’ll follow through honestly as we planned. We’re watching her with “suspicious eyes”. But she does follow the plan honestly and accurately. We watch her lock her ankles and knees together, then push her ice cube in deep. It calls attention to my own cube, clenched so tight at my rear. It still feels like burning and my butt-cheeks feel a little numb. That could be a problem I think, and wonder if mom’s thinking the same. She puts on and snug up her rawhide throat loop and lock it to the long, hanging rawhide rope. I can tell by feel of my own the rawhide has already started shrinking, and grandma has to stand on tip-toe to get hers snapped. She has a bit of a struggle to get her elbows cabled together and pulled tight, but she manages it, the locks her wrists together. I’m relieved to see now that she really did play it honestly and is in exactly the same predicament as me and mom are. Now the hard part of this . . . discomfort (pain ?) and WAITING! Nothing we can do to rush that melting, and it will be some hours yet before any of can even have a chance to free ourselves.

The beams are in a square, and we are each hung up on an individual side, so that with the way we positioned our throat loops we can each see the other 2 easily. The rawhide throat loops were al snugged up on our necks up high, right under our chins. That was deliberate as we wanted our faces to stay forward, so we could see each other. And even as the rawhide tightens it will pull us up from the back so we will still be able to see each other . . . quite a show, LOL.

Time goes by . . . so, SOOO slowly . . . how much time . . . it’s impossible to tell . . .

My legs are shaking with fatigue, my arms are beginning to feel numb too, from being bound the way they are, the elbows pulled tight behind us may not have been the best idea. We started perspiring almost the minute we got here this morning (but maybe it is still “this morning”?) and by now we’re dripping wet all over. I can feel each drop of perspiration run slowly down; my back, arms, breasts and my legs . . . and they all tingle and itch. And especially my sides, I can feel my underarms itching with perspiration. It’s so annoying I could scream . . . that is IF I could scream! And it’s so hard to keep breathing through my nose with that huge ball filling my mouth. And of course gagged that way my mouth is filling with saliva which is NOT easy to swallow with that gag, and it too is dripping out, from my lower lip (and THAT itches too) onto my breasts, and then running down between them. Between the perspiration and my drooling it’s almost like a stream running between them, itching and tickling all the way down as it runs between my legs and down my quivering thighs. When we practiced and tested everything we didn’t have this heat and sweat to contend with.

And even now I can feel my throat loop is tighter than it was when this ordeal started. And the rope through the pulley has shrunk too, quite a bit. I’m almost on tip-toes to keep myself from strangling, and my calf muscles are starting to ache. And then, just when I think I’ve found a comfort level, one or all 3 of those monstrous vibrating bullets start up and THAT’s a different sort of discomfort. Oh arousing to be sure, but what a distraction, and it IS weakening me. Oh my God, how awful this is! And how much longer until there’s even a possibility of unlocking myself, my rear is numb from the ice cube nestled there, I have NO idea how far along it is in the melting process. But in the midst of this discomfort I am watching mom and grandma’s reactions too. I find it all fascinating as terrible as it is! When “my” vibrators go on it pushes me toward a peak of arousal . . . and then stops. So it’s some level of arousal all the time, occasionally pushed towards a peak . . . but no orgasm! I squirm in frustration. As horrible as the whole thing is I WANT to have an “O”, I want it badly!

And I’m finding that watching mom and grandma is arousing me too. And I can see that they are both having the same sort of reactions I am having. We are all 3 of us extremely turned on, even though this could end badly, VERY badly for us, somehow the arousal overcomes the fear. I have to keep reminding myself to keep my hands in position to catch the key when that ice cube finally melts, and it’s not easy to twist my hands around to the proper position anyway, and even more so when I’m distracted by such arousal as I’m feeling. I wonder if our agreement to bind our elbows together as well as our wrists was a mistake. We got so competitive when we were planning this, I only hope we didn’t try to out-compete each other and come up with something that CAN’T be escaped! Yes, we practiced it, but somehow it seems so much more difficult now than it ever was in practice. The rawhide has shrunk significantly, my throat loop (but still not tight enough to choke me), but mostly the rawhide ropes that keep pulling us up. My arms and hands are beginning to feel numb and I keep twisting my fingers to keep enough feeling in them to use the key when it finally melts out of its jacket of ice. I’m needing to stand on my tip-toes now and my legs are quivering with fatigue, my calf muscles feel like they’re about to cramp.

Time goes by . . . MORE time, how much time? . . . I’m trying to tell by watching the sun’s position in the sky, but . . . ?

My legs ache, the muscles quivering with fatigue. The throat loop has shrunk and so has the rawhide running through the pulley forcing me to stand dully on tip-toe. I just hope I don’t get a leg cramp; if I do I’m dead. And that rawhide strap between my legs feels like it’s cutting me in two . . . but in spite of that I can feel myself hovering on the edge of an orgasm. HOW can that be I wonder, I’m actually in some severe pain by now. I sometimes steal glances at mom and grandma and they are suffering all the same things I am, including the unexpected arousal. I see both their swollen vaginas . . . is that fluid dripping down their legs perspiration or . . . ? I’m really frightened now but my reaction is to get even more aroused, to want that orgasm desperately. If I’m going to die I want to have a great “O” on the way out.

But then I realize that my butt cheeks don’t feel like they’re frozen anymore. I’ve felt the liquid running down between my thighs for a long time now, but couldn’t tell whether it was sweat, pussy juice or melting ice-cube . . . or all three. But I think my ice-cube HAS melted and hopefully I can get the key and free myself. But my hands are numb now and I wriggle my fingers and twist my hands around to wake them up. Finally, some signs of life . . . thank God . . . I’d hate to have made it this far and then drop the key. But I don’t have it firmly in hand yet, and it’s not as easy as I expected. I can just barely twist my bound arms around to dig the key from between my butt-cheeks, but finally I manage to get it in hand. Now I realize how afraid I was that I’d drop it . . . but I didn’t. The way we bound and locked our arms makes it even MORE difficult to get my arms free than to get the key in the first place, but after several minutes of struggle I get my arms unlocked. I can barely breathe by now and my vision was beginning to get fuzzy, but I stand there and breathe deep. How many minutes, I don’t know, but I know it’s a while before I recover my breath. I haven’t taken off any of the bondage except that horrible, huge gag (and my jaws ache so bad it’s almost like a toothache) only taken the locks off so I can move freely. I just breathe deep and savor my escape!

After I’ve recovered my senses I register mom and grandma again. They’re both barely surviving and I can see them trying desperately to get to their keys. And their staring at me with desperate eyes. They’re sure I will come and free them now. As I watch those 2 beauties struggling for their lives, just as I was only a few moments ago, my arousal returns in a rush. More like a tidal wave actually. I haven’t taken off that cruel strap between my legs, I still feel as if I’m being sawed in half, but nevertheless I reach down and lightly touch my throbbing clit and I explode into what is probably the biggest orgasm I’ve ever had. I don’t know how long it goes on, I’m mentally blank except for the wave of sensation after sensation. I stop, but my clit is still begging for more!

I think it was the sight of mom and grandma hanging there, on the verge of death that triggered that massive “O”. They still look so hot. Firm, strong, beautiful bodies; helpless and struggling desperately; perspiration, saliva and vaginal fluid running down their shuddering bodies. And as I step closer I think I see tears running from their eyes also . . . yes, tears. I reflexively wipe a hand across my eyes and can feel that I too was crying, although I wasn’t conscious of it. I know I need to free them, time is running very short . . . but . . . I’m hesitating . . . and I don’t know why?

O.K. . . . I clear my head and go over to get grandma Janine out first, she seems to be in the greater distress. She is probing desperately between her buttocks for the key, she knows she doesn’t have much time left to get it. But when I get to her, to “help” her get her key, I end up taking it in MY hands and out of hers. I look around for something, I don’t really know what, but then I see it. There is the remains of an old wooden bench. The legs are rotted and broken and it only sits 6-8 inches off the ground. But when I see it I know what I’m going to do with it. I carry it over to where grandma hangs, and push it right up against her feet, which are now on tip-toe and barely holding her up. I grab her around the thighs and lift (not so easy, as she’s slick with perspiration and slippery as a fish) and push the remains of the bench under her feet with my leg, then let her down. This has put a bit of slack in the rawhide rope and she blinks wildly and gasps for breath. She is sure she will be free soon, and her face shows such relief. Now I turn my attention to mom.

I see such relief in mom’s eyes as she sees me coming up to her. She watched while I got grandmas key and set her up on the remains of that old bench so she could breathe. I go behind and she has her key in her hand already, but she knows I’ve come to free her so she drops it in my hand. Now I have both of their keys in my hands. I went to them to help them, to set them free . . . so why haven’t I done it? And why do I spend time wondering about it instead of simply DOING it? I look across to grandma Janine and look her beautiful, firm body up and down. Even at 59, she’s still firm and solid, no slack, not excess fat, just soft, lush curves. It strikes me suddenly that I find her body arousing. And it soon creeps into my mind that I find it especially so with her in this vulnerable situation. Helpless, her muscles quivering and shuddering with exertion, slick and dripping with an unwholesome mixture of perspiration, saliva and tears . . . and with vaginal fluid almost gushing down her thighs. This little game of ours has aroused her as much as it did me! A thought flits through my head but I quickly banish it . . . it’s just toooo crazy. But my clit remembers that brief thought and throbs and drips over it and forces it back into my mind. And it IS arousing me, and I do think about it, and . . .

Now I look at mom, hanging next to me, in distress. And she’s in that same slick and slimy shape that grandma is, and it registers that I am too. I watch her briefly, on tip-toe (the rawhide has shrunk so much she can’t stand flat, nowhere that), leg muscles straining to keep balance . . . to stay alive. I can see how beautiful and sexy she is too, why didn’t I see it before. My God, she’s HOT. She doesn’t have much time left before she passes out, and when she does her legs will give way entirely and her end will come quickly. I realize that I am unconsciously squirming with arousal. The rawhide strap between my legs feels like it’s sawing me in half, but my clit has squeezed its way out and is begging me. I press up against mom’s chest, my ear right between her lush and lovely breasts and listen to her heart beat. It’s racing so, so fast; her heart rate must be 200! I barely touch myself and I orgasm so hard I can barely stay on my feet. Then I know what I’m going to do!

I hold the two keys out in the palm of my hand right in front of her, and I notice that grandma is watching me too. I’m sure she’s wondering why I haven’t set mom free yet. I see questioning looks in both pairs of eyes. I answer those questions by closing my fist around the keys, winding up my arm, and throwing them deep into the nearby brush. Even if I have a change of heart I could never find them there, my decision is now irreversible. Now those two pairs of eyes show no questioning look; there is nothing except raw fear in them. I stand on tip-toe, close against her and lick her tears and kiss and nibble her lips that pout around the gag that fills her mouth. “I’m sorry mom”, I say sadly, “I love you . . . I know you don’t understand but I need to see this”. Her eyes, horrified, desperate, pleading . . . but she KNOWS.

Then I settle back against one of the posts to just watch mom, her agonies both mental and physical. Just looking at her I start to build to an orgasm again. That last huge one made me scream with ecstasy and thinking that someone could possibly be within range of any sounds I put my own gag back in, pull it tight, and lock it. Just in the time since I managed to free myself her rawhide has shrunk until she can’t quite reach the ground, just give the occasional push with her toes to get a quick, tiny bit of breath. I’ve orgasmed as couple more times too. I don’t know what has happened to my libido, I could always do a few repeats, but then I ran down and had to wait a while for a “re-set”. But today? I must have had 7 or 8 already and I feel them coming stronger than ever, no sign of a let-down. In a way my lust has taken over control of my conscious mind, I’ll do anything to keep the orgasms coming.

I see mom’s eyes flickering and stand up to go over to her. It’s almost over for her and I want to FEEL it, not just watch it. I face her on tip-toe (now necessary since she’s lifted almost off her feet) and press myself tight against her, pulling her to me with an arm around her waist. I put my hand between HER legs now, and it only takes one quick rub to set her off. I watch her eyes open wide in surprised ecstasy as she explodes into a huge, shuddering orgasm. I feel her whole body convulsing and spasming from her massive orgasm. I feel the flow of her vaginal fluid as she gushes all over my hand. I lift it to my mouth and lick my fingers. She’s sweet . . . I wonder if she always tasted this way. It’s sad that I never found out before this. Her eyes stare at me sucking her juice off my fingers and she goes into another orgasm. I put my hand down on her clit again and stroke it gently . . . it takes very little to keep her going and she bucks and shudders and gushes her orgasmic juices. I don’t know how long this goes on, time has been “funny” the last couple of hours. And I feel her beautiful, strong body writhing and struggling against mine . . . and it seems like we are having the SAME orgasm. And if anything, hers are even stronger than mine are. I wonder . . . she’s dying, and she knows it, how can she be reacting like this? I’ve never felt anything like this, never! Not even close! I’m screaming with uncontrollable passion, I was wise to have re-gagged myself. I would have been heard for miles.

But finally I realize that she’s still, unmoving . . . and just then I feel another kind of release. My hand is still between her thighs stroking her clit and suddenly there’s a rush of hot fluid and a slightly funky odor. Her bladder has released, so it must be over now. I just let this last bit of her run over my hands and splash my legs. I lift my hand and taste this too. Musky taste, not unpleasant, but her other juice was so much sweeter. I don’t want this to end, don’t want to let mom go, but I know it’s over. I look at her, still and limp, swaying at the end of the rawhide rope feet just a fraction of an inch (but enough) above the ground. I just look at her for several minutes . . . and have three more powerful orgasms as I see her, dead now, so close to me. Her lovely dark eyes are blank and staring into nowhere. To make sure she’s really gone, I scratch a fingernail across one eye . . . not a flicker of reaction . . . she’s gone for good.

I step back as I release her and back over to lean against that post again. Somehow I see her as even more beautiful now, hanging there, those smooth, strong muscles now immobile, her body glistening with the slick of various fluids that cover her. The last of her urine drips from her toes forming a small puddle in the dirt below. I orgasm again, then once more, then I just look at her my mind momentarily blank. But then I realize that SHE was orgasming strongly, even as the life was being squeezed out of her by the rawhide around her throat. My OWN orgasms were unbelievable, uncontrollable and powerful beyond imagination . . . what were HERS like I wondered? But I finally remember grandma Janine. I look over at her and smile. What I just felt with mom, that absolute ecstasy, that explosive release . . . I’m going to feel that again! Poor grandma was watching everything. She’s not in much physical distress since she was up on that fragment of the old bench. She’s fully conscious, and she’s taken in what just happened completely. I walk slowly toward her, again aroused to a high pitch again.

As I go over to her I take that monstrous ball-gag out of my mouth. My jaw is killing me, and I work it around; but I did need to be silenced I know. My reactions to seeing, feeling, being with mom as she breathed her last were out of my control. Poor grandma Janine, she watched what happened to mom, saw my orgasmic reaction. She knows what will happen to her! But she can’t stop herself from trying; squealing out desperate pleas for mercy through her gag, wildly shaking her head “no” . . . as if any of it would mean anything to me now. I say to her, “I’m sorry grandma, but you know I really have to do this”. She continues to try begging, tears streaming from her eyes. This isn’t what she imagined when we started developing this mutual challenge. But then neither did I . . . or poor mom. I put my arm around grandma’s waist and hold her close as I turn slightly to look back at mom. She’s beautiful, all still and hanging . . . I wonder if her body is cooling . . . I suppose it is. “I love you grandma”, I say, “but this is going to happen . . . I NEED for it to happen”. I know I’m being selfish but I don’t care! I DO need this . . . those unbelievable orgasms I had with mom as I watched her last agonies, as I held her dying, twitching body close, they just made me greedy for MORE. And poor grandma’s going to provide them for me!

I kiss and lick her face, licking away that slimy mixture of tears, perspiration and saliva. I whisper in her ear, “it’s time now grandma” and giggle as she shakes her head “no”. I find that I want to take her gag out and hear her begging me, but I can’t, I already threw her key into the brush and I could never find it now. But I remember how out-of-control my orgasming was with mom and I put my gag back in, pull it deep and tight and lock it in place. Oh how my jaws ache from the stretching that huge ball gives them. But much as I hate it I know it’s necessary, so I don’t scream so loud I bring rescuers, or spectators. I get my arms around her hips and lift her slightly, then kick away that fragment of old bench that was supporting her, enabling her to breathe. The sounds of shrill squealing she makes are getting me so aroused . . . they’re screams in her mind, she’s desperate and terrified, but hearing them muffled so, silenced really is such a power rush I almost come from that alone. But not quite, not just yet.

I try to hold her up for a moment more, but she’s slick and slippery and I can’t do it so I let her settle to the end of her rope. She is standing high on tip-toe, leg muscles trembling with the strain. I face her, putting my arms around her waist and pulling her close like I did with mom. She has a little more fight left in her than mom did and she tries to squirm away from me. She can’t manage that, but she gets into a position where her thigh presses hard between my legs. I get an immediate reaction to that, orgasming in an instant! I look into her wide, frightened eyes . . . only a very few minutes of life left in her . . . I see it in her eyes, she knows. I orgasm again, just from seeing that terrible knowledge in her eyes. And I hug her close to me and feel a shuddering in her body that I recognize is a building orgasm. She starts to come, I see that ecstasy in her eyes mingling with the fright. It must be a confusing feeling . . . I wonder what it’s like for her right now?

But that thought is wiped from my mind by my own rising orgasm. As grandma thrashes, bucks and shudders wildly in the midst of her exquisite, orgasmic death throes, I follow her into that heavenly space of powerful orgasms. It happens again . . . and yet again, the most powerful of all! Grandma Janine is spasming so hard it’s like riding a bucking horse for me. But the ride is worthwhile as I keep my thighs clamped tight around her and my clit pressed hard against her thigh. The flexing of her thigh muscles is like a hand rubbing my clit and it takes nothing more than that to send me into shuddering waves of orgasmic ecstasy. Again and again, I had no idea I could orgasm so strongly, so often, and still want MORE. But I finally realize I’m orgasming alone. Then I notice the feeling of her warm urine running down my thigh. I look at grandma’s face and her eyes are staring into nowhere, a stream of saliva running from the corner of her mouth as it oozes from behind her gag. I put my ear to her chest; no heartbeat, no breathing. Her body is still now, just like moms. I’m breathing as if I’ve just run a marathon. It’s over . . . but I don’t want it to be over. My orgasms were like nothing I’ve ever experienced, never even dreamed of. I don’t want this to end!

My mind is sort of empty, I’m not quite sure what to do now. And I’m absolutely aching for another orgasm. Still panting I walk back over to mom’s beautiful, still body; just hanging there swaying slightly in the light breeze. I run my hand from her breasts down across her belly then her thighs. She’s “cool”. Not fully cooled, not yet, but I can feel the LACK of life in her. I go back to grandma, still and lovely hanging there. I kiss and touch her body, so lovely, so sexy, even now with no life left in it. I’m in an “aimless” state of mind. Regretting what we (well what I) did, and yet glad I did it. I go over to lean against one of the old posts holding up our makeshift gallows, to remember, just to savor . . . not need to decide or do anything. But my hand finds its way between my thighs and begins to work on my clit. I swear it’s an almost automatic reaction, it’s not like I thought about it, it just happens. The first delicious orgasm brings back waves of memory of those I had holding tight to mom and grandma. And I remember their reactions too. Their orgasms seemed to be even more powerful and long-lasting than mine. What DID they feel then, dying and coming all at the same time? Whatever it was must have been powerful, maybe even wonderful? I momentarily wonder if they even realized they were dying right at the end? They had both been in the throes of massive orgasms right up through the moment they hung still and lifeless. I supposed I’d never know exactly what they felt then, much as I wish I could. My clit is insatiable, my hand and fingers go to work again. My clit is enlarged, hard and sore, and my touch brings some mild pain . . . but nothing can stop those urges . . . and I orgasm again and again. Finally it’s over, my clit is satisfied . . . for the moment.

My mind is near-blank, only seeing and sensing what is around me right at this moment. I walk over to the spot where I had been hanging and look up at the rawhide rope, still dangling there. It triggers me to wonder again about what mom and grandma Janine might have felt these last several minutes . . . the last of their lives. I don’t know how long I stand there, staring up at the rope, over at mom and grandma hanging still and beautiful, back up at the rope. I go get the low, broken bench that I had grandma stand on and place it directly below “my” rope. A part of my mind wonders why I did that, the part that KNOWS isn’t telling me. I’m just looking at mom, grandma, that rope hanging above slightly above me. I’m feeling another orgasm building, but I try to hold back on it. I look at the key in my hand, MY key . . . and without thinking I throw it into the brush where mom’s and grandma’s keys lie hidden. I’m moving like a robot now, not under my own control. I feel like I’m watching myself from outside of myself. My clit is throbbing desperately now. I tell myself, “no, this is crazy, don’t do this, NO”! But there’s something stronger inside me now than my rational mind . . . it’s my curiosity and my hunger for orgasms. Those forces are working together, conspiring against my conscious mind. And they’re winning!

I pick up all the locks I dropped below “my spot” along the beam. I step up onto the bit of old bench and lock my knees and my ankles together. I reach up for the hanging piece or still-damp rawhide rope. It has shrunk considerably but it has a lot of shrinkage left in it. I’m breathing deeply, my heart is pounding as I put the rawhide throat loop around my neck. I’m moving carefully and surely, but steadily, no hesitation . . . I don’t dare hesitate, I might think what I’m doing and frighten myself out of it. But I don’t stop, there is something compelling me . . . my clit is throbbing . . . it’s HUNGRY. A part of my mind is screaming at me “stop, stop, STOP”! I shut it out. I squeeze the lock shut, it clicks onto the loop, locking it to the hanging rope. Now it’s done! There is a conflict of terror and calmness inside me. But I’ll finish the last detail, locking my arms tight together behind me. This part isn’t easy but I strain and struggle and finally it’s done. I’m helpless now, things will take their course. I breathe deep. I can’t change anything now, and somehow that thought calms me.

I know what drove me to this fatal foolishness . . . my desire to KNOW what mom and grandma felt, there at the end. And of course there is only one way to do that, and I have done it . . . and now I will know too. I realize that everything will go more quickly for me than they did for mom and grandma. The hanging loop has shrunk so much that I’m already forced to stand on tip-toe to breathe. I’m immediately conscious of the strain in my leg muscles, especially my calves. I have to stop focusing on it. My clit immediately comes to my assistance. I feel the pain of the crotch rope, now shrunken so much it’s beginning to actually cut into me on either side of my clit. But the clit itself is undamaged and screaming out for pleasure. I twist my hips and clench my thighs and try to “grind one out” without my hands touching as best I can. It works, and it doesn’t take long either, and I feel that sublime feeling, the heat of it, the sense of the uncontrollable, and then . . . the EXPLOSION! My legs have gone limp, I can’t breathe but that adds to the sensations and powers my orgasm. I’ve never, ever in my life felt anything even CLOSE to this, this ecstasy! My vision is blurring and my lungs throbbing from lack of oxygen and I finally manage to get my feet under me properly and on tip-toe again, can draw shallow, ragged breaths. I struggle but I breathe and breathe and get myself back under control.

But I notice my chest is fluttering, enough to jog and jiggle my breasts a bit, than I feel tears flowing down my cheeks. I’m crying and I never registered it. Is it my subconscious telling me I’ll be dead within an hour or two or is it an aftermath of that absolutely exquisite orgasm. But right at the moment I am so uncomfortable, in pain actually. I can feel each dribble of sweat as it snakes its way down my body, itching and scratching like fingernails. And there are endless little rivers of perspiration, the sun is full on me and hot. I feel the humiliation of my saliva forcing its way around that huge gag in my mouth and dribbling slowly and maddeningly down between my breasts and all the way down across my belly, then between and down my tightly bound legs. Another torment I can do nothing about. But now my clit is “talking to me” again! And now that is where my entire consciousness goes, I think of nothing else except that wonderful orgasm I just had and I want another. Everything in me works together, I again squirm and clench my thighs and again . . . OHHHHHH!

I go through this over and over. I often just stare at mom and Grandma Janine just hanging there, so near me, yet completely gone from this world. Only their two beautiful, firm bodies . . . hanging there, swaying slightly in the gentle breeze, perspiration and orgasmic fluids drying on them making them glisten like some pale metal, their last urine pooled under their still feet, puddled there in the wet dust beneath each of them. I am feeling now what they must have felt as I watched them so long ago it seems. I find myself wishing there was someone her to watch ME go through this ordeal. But there isn’t. As I look at them I know that will be me soon, and each time I study them and make that realization all over again I start to sob, but at the same time my arousal starts to build again. Then I go through that cycle of building ecstasy and explosive release, then struggle onto tip-toe to ease some of the constriction of my breath and gasp a few breaths through that slowly, slowly tightening rawhide noose around my throat. More and more difficult each time, finally almost impossible.

There is no real sense of time, but I see by the position of the shadows of the forest around me that it must be afternoon, even mid-to-late afternoon. So I’ve been here, playing this foolish game, for several hours now. And finally I can draw so little air that my consciousness is hazy and my vision is blurred. I feel the shrunken rawhide cutting into my throat. My desperately stretched toes scramble for a grip on the wobbling bench beneath me. I can only barely, with great, straining effort push myself up enough to draw a tiny breath . . . not quite enough to keep me going. My scrambling toes finally knock the bench over and now I hang there, neck painfully stretched long, just like mom’s and Grandma Janine’s. The noose is now tight as can be around my throat . . . there will be NO MORE breath for me. I know it’s time, I whine and kick my bound legs in futility. I know it will do no good but my body reflexes battle on to survive, even as I know it is useless now. And still, my clit calls out . . . One more . . . ONE MORE. As I struggle, whine and kick, I also find my hips are twisting and my thighs clenching yet again. This is not a conscious action, my clit has literally taken over control of my body here in its final moments. The build-up is a long one, and when the orgasm finally comes it is IMMENSE!

I am in pain all over, empty lungs burning, muscles quivering with stress, crotch feeling like it is being cut in half by that tight rawhide thing, jaws aching for that huge gag, but that is a “background” feeling, and none of it interferes with my building orgasm. I realize it will be my last one, the very last act of my life in fact, but somehow that only adds to my arousal. I’m bucking and thrashing in uncontrollable ecstasy, almost unconscious, I can’t see anything anymore, and then it happens. I feel the release, feel the warm stream run down my now limp and quivering legs. I sob with the humiliation of peeing on myself. My heart is beating so hard and fast it actually hurts. Pain everywhere and now in my heart, right in the center of my chest. My brain is now flickering dimly, and I know I’m dying, maybe a matter of seconds left to me. “What will it be like to die”, I wonder? Just at exactly that time both sets of vibrators deep inside my holes go off on high settings. Then my clit takes over entirely and I am in another world, consumed!

And the wave hits! OH GOD . . . THE FEELING . . . ohhhhh . . . OHHHH . . . OHHHH . . . OHHHH . . . OHHHH . . . OHHHH . . . ! ! ! ! . . . OHH . . . OH . . . Oh . . . oh . . . o . . .o . . . o . . . o . . . . . . . . . . .