Our arms were secured at a forty-five degree angle. Our legs weren't secured to the wall. There were triangular slabs of wood directly under us which ...ept our legs separated so that our feet were not quite shoulder width apart. But at least our feet are planted firmly on the floor.Almost as soon as the men in tuxedos walked away, men, and on rare occasions a woman, approached and explored our bodies. Fingers pinched and pulled my nipples and explored my pussy. When they had concluded their. You really don’t want to get involved in this.” The last sentence was said as a threat.“Oh, I really think I do,” said Laurie.The three captives were hustled into the sling room, at least that’s what I call it because sometimes Laurie will install a sling for some of our games. Mr. Rooney, but not without a struggle, was tied to one of the press benches, his arms behind his back. “Pity you brought little Emma with you,” my dad said. “But all the more fun for us.”“What do you mean?” Mr. Rooney. After thirty years of badgering he knew when to quit. He was finished while Marjorie was just oiling the gears. Pushing herself out of the easy chair Marjorie trundled past her husband whose attention was captured by the newspaper article. Lazy toad, never wants to get involved. I guess I'll have to do all the work as usual. Marjorie made her way into the kitchen where she fixed a cup of tea. She stopped offering to her husband when she stopped having respect for him. With the mug between her. Emily, thanking my brother. Thanking him with her body. Deep-throating him. Letting him cum inside her. Making me lick it out afterwards.No.“Of course,” I replied, after way too long. My voice was so strained, I barely recognized it.“Isabel...” Emily said, putting her hand on my neck. “It’s...”“What?” I whispered. “What is it?”“Don’t be like that. It’s just...”“What?”“It’s just a fetish.”“What is?” I squeaked.A fiery look came into Emily’s eyes.“You know.” she said firmly, moving one hand.