.. under me. What do you say, Nancy?" Thanks, but I'm not interested in working 'under you', Teresa." Then why are you staring at my breasts?" she ask...d with a giggle.I had a queer urge to say that they looked so perfect, so divinely female, so soft and wonderful, that was why I stared."You're crazy if you think I give a damn about your tits," I said instead."I think you're just as interested in them as the boys." That--that's ridiculous."It felt even warmer in the house then, standing there. " I retorted as I involuntarily gripped the case holding my life's work.This statement was more accurate than she could have guessed. I was the only male on the planet whose mother had been purposely chosen him to be so. My mother, Trista Hart, the most celebrated geneticist alive, thought she had found the cure the shota syndrome. She modified my genome and dubbed me the first-ever "clean" baby. Much to her disappointment, I was stuck with an impotent dick and a body incapable of the classic. Her feet pushing into the mattress as she arched herself up off the bed and pushed hard down on her clit as she rubbed harder and faster, her left hand gripping behind her head to the bedhead now. Like a woman possessed, she was fucking herself now, her pussy was insanely wet, she was so horny remembering all of their steamy sex sessions, Johns big cock pounding into her, taking no mercy, moaning loudly, her middle finger sliding deep to find her g spot as her thumb pressed down hard on her. Master came to me with rope and began to bind my breasts. With each circle of rope the pressure became more intense. My breasts began to swell and turned a deep purple color. Yes, they were bound tight. He lay some tools on the table next to the chair... a heavy "thud" flogger, the braided horse hair flogger, the evil stick and a bamboo cane. In His hand He held the short crop. It was the crop that began the next round of torture and it was my nipples that were to be used.With a quick, light.