The planning had been going on for weeks and Brittney was just about to step perfectly into the role of victim. Nary an item had been left to chance,...the 6 men sitting in the van knew every detail of every person living in the vicinity, from the lowliest gardener to the highly paid movie stars who resided in their multi-million dollar mansions, they’d made sure nothing would go wrong. The van was silent but for the measured breathing of the men inside: one crouched low in the drivers seat. The thin edge of the v-shaped frame would bring agony to the slave as it pressed relentlessly on the tender tissues.However Page and Willow were not riding the wooden pony. Their feet were on the ground but were standing astride the peaked frame with the top about six inches below their groins. However the gazebo tiles where they were standing were covered in olive oil so that their feet were constantly struggling for purchase. This tired out the leg muscles quickly. Their breasts were pressed. He told her to count downwards. She nodded, laying still waiting and expectant, revelling, in this feeling of being helpless, but frightened too of the pain she knew was to come, her soft breast in their half cups, nipples rubbing erotically on the rough, work-scarred wood, glad of the basque protecting her belly and her lush sandy haired mons from the damaged surface and the hard edge. He began again, another ten, “twenty-nine,” smack… “twenty-eight…” the rhythm continued, her voice beginning. " Everything?" I think so." Everything starting a few years ago?" Yes, I think so." And?"And I went back to my insurance contracts, whatever I was working on just then. That night, she tried to cuddle. She stroked my bare, smooth chest, and both of my breasts, and snuggled in, but then she may have had a sense of the enormity she'd committed, that her husband now had breasts, because she pulled back. For a few more days she could stew in her juice, I figured. She'd had me stewing for a few.