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Betty liked it that way – it wasn’t a healthy breakfast. It was a lot of sweets and bacon.“I don’t like you standing during Breakfast either. It makes me nervous and seems awkward,” Karen said firmly after a long silence at the table. She was asserting herself in a very passive aggressive way but Betty didn’t really pick up on it at first.“There are no more chairs,” Betty shrugged that off her sister’s suggestion. It wasn’t a suggestion though – not to Karen.Betty wouldn’t have sat in a chair if one was available. Her pussy was still wet, and she didn’t want to leave snail trails when she sat. She was always getting up to get the butter or fill a glass for someone anyway. She was wearing only an apron and it didn’t even cover her boobs.“I know there are no more chairs,” Karen said and pointed to the floor. She didn’t want to repeat herself. “Why don’t you kneel here. You had no problem crawling through the house before,” she said.Karen was serious about Betty kneeling during. It was almost time. I was strapped down to a cold stone slab. My wrists were tied together to eyelets above my head. A rope was tied around each my lovely ankles and was then itself connected to a pulley above. As the rope was pulled my legs were cruelly raised above me. The crowd became silent in anticipation of the first of many events. The guard was holding a poker over his fire, hammering its tip against his anvil. The tip was glowing with such intensity that one could not look upon it for the light. As the guar came towards my helpless body. The rope was pulled higher, bringing my legs far above my body. I was lying defenseless upon the Dias. I could feel my nakedness and eyes of hushed crowd on me. I knew that these hungry eyes will devour me long. As my legs and buttocks were spread apart, I felt the fear and humiliation of this event. I braced myself for the certain pain that was just moments away. Even before the poker was applied I began to cry with fear and rage. The rage.
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