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narrowed, and the slightest edge of amusement crossed her lips while Pansy felt the damned response begin to claim her.   “You do not have permission, Pansy.”   Cynthia issued the taunting warning in her low seductive voice, and Pansy wanted to scream at the desire she saw building in the woman’s eyes while she tormented her.
    “Yyyes, stepmother.”   Pansy’s eyes filled with tears, and she fought her response to the witch’s controlled stroking.   As fearful as she was of the woman and the promise of some cruel punishment, both of them knew that Cynthia was an expert at manipulating her arousal, and that she would continue her stepdaughter’s degradation until Pansy’s body betrayed her.   It seemed so unfair, as Sloan had already denied her completion earlier.
    Pansy felt the pain of her nipples tightening further, squeezing the welts from the whip that had kissed across the tips only moments ago.   Her hips began to rock in an effort to elude the woman’s stroking, but the spasms constricted and the unavoidable release kept building.   At some point, she began whimpering.   Pansy thought of the numbness of the climax that would offer her a brief respite from the torture she had endured.   She knew that the punishment would be severe, and she fought the building heat as long as she could.   Pansy felt herself crest, and she gasped in a sob when the pulsing of her pussy gushed cream down her thigh.
    “Oh, dear,” Cynthia purred.   “Such a bad, bad girl.”   She turned to Alexander while the girl continued to press into her hand.   “The cane, I think.”   She turned back to Pansy and brushed her wet cheeks with gentle, moist fingers, leaving cream from her orgasm on her face.   Cynthia curled a lock of Pansy’s hair behind her ear and stared into her humiliated tears.   “Directly on this disrespectful slut’s pussy.”
    “Oh… Oh please, stepmother,” Pansy wailed as the last of her quivering had her pulling against her chains.   The cane burned like a knife even on her thighs, and she was terrified of the thought of it on her sensitive lips.
    “Eyes open, girl,” Alexander ordered.
    Pansy opened her eyes so wide that the violet was completely surrounded by white, and tears rolled down her cheeks.   The cane slashed up between her legs so quickly that it took a moment for her to register the pain.   “Aaayeee… aaayeee,” she screamed.   It felt as though she had been split open when her post climatic swollen sex received a direct blow.   Another strike lashed up and she screamed again, making incoherent promises to the cruel man.   One more, and she most probably would have the relief of unconsciousness… which was the reason that Alexander stopped.
    When Pansy was able to regain her senses and the wails had subdued themselves to sobbing, she looked across the room to the awful wooden table that promised tortures of its own.   Through her tears, she saw the witch leaning over the platform with her sapphire robe raised to her hips, while Alexander’s long, slick cock pounded into her.   They were completely oblivious to the girl’s torment, with Cynthia gripping the opposite edge of the table and Alexander gripping her hips… watching himself plunge into his wife’s pussy.   Their eruptions were simultaneous and accompanied by almost triumphant calls of pleasure.   They usually were, after a particularly arousing exercise with one of the stepdaughters.
    Pansy was left hanging in her chains with her pussy tortured and throbbing in agony, while the Mistress and Master righted themselves and their clothes.   They left the stone chamber without looking back at her… presumably to visit another flower in this dark dungeon garden.   The girl knew that she would be left to suffer her painful torment alone, until one of the servants brought her back to her cage.
     

 
    Chapter II
     
    Sloane traveled down Interstate 4, just south of the conglomerate of central