Mom's Favorite Toy

"It's not easy, keeping his feet that smooth and sensitive," Michelle said, picking her head up towards Daisy. "I work hard to take good care of them." Now that the toy was only able to silently laugh, it was easy to hold a conversation.

"Effort well spent," Daisy replied, finding the smooth, velvety flesh under her fingertips to be intoxicating.

"This might be more than you ever wanted to know about your father, but he wasn't exactly keen on letting me ever do anything like this to him," Michelle continued. "He respected and understood that I had an itch that I would like to be able to scratch, but being humiliated and tortured like this wasn't something he was going to agree to."

Not that Daisy had ever thought about it before, but that certainly made sense. Her father was a massive, muscular man who seemed to thrive on always being the one in control, clearly very proud of being able to project a strength that did not need threatening words to back up. Yes, she doubted very much he would enjoy giving that up, even in utmost privacy.

"So, we compromised. I'd get to scratch my itch with someone else, and better yet, I'd get to do it whenever I wanted, on a toy, with absolutely no limits or rules. What I do to him is limited only by my own imagination." She moved her fingers down to his sides again, expertly finding all of his most ticklish spots that she knew as well as the back of her own hand at this point.

"No matter how much money your father made, or how successful he was, or how many maids and nannies and servants we hired...it was never easy being a mother of six. The moment one child gets to that age where you don't have to be looming over them twenty-four hours a day, you're popping out the next one. Playing the loving, submissive wife and the caring, doting mother every day for decades on decades, it was a task I happily took on. But it was never easy. And it was always stressful. Without my toys, I don't know if I could have managed it."

Suddenly, a blast of urine fired out of the toy's penis, a spurt of liquid that stopped as soon as it had started. Daisy stopped tickling in surprise for a moment, Michelle doing the same. Finally given a respite from the tickling, the captive immediately sucked down a lungful of oxygen, body sagging in the restraints as he was finally able to relax. With that ability to relax came the rest of his bladder's contents, pouring out onto the floor. Daisy suddenly understood why, even though the rest of the room was carpeted, the area beneath the pillories was concrete with a drain hole.

Michelle stood up tall over her toy, hands on her hips, giving him a very stern look. Well, in fairness, it was the same look she might have given Daisy when she was eight after catching her eating cookies an hour before dinner, or Troy when he was six playing baseball inside the house. But Daisy couldn't help but think that this look wasn't going to end with the target of her dismay being sent to their room or having their toys taken away.

"Did I give you permission to relieve yourself?" Michelle asked.

At first, watching the stream of pee flow into the drain, Daisy had been grossed out. But then, after giving it more than a second's worth of thought, it clicked. What could possibly be better evidence of breaking someone through torture than pushing them so far they lost control of their bladder? What was more humiliating than pissing yourself in the company of others? Just like just about everything else she had tried for the first time today, initial dubiousness was fast making way for understanding and appreciation.

The toy, for his part, was so busy sucking down oxygen and dealing with lingering laughs from the tingling feelings on his body that he didn't respond.

Michelle glanced over at her daughter and nodded. Somehow, instinctively, Daisy knew what she wanted, and brought her hand across the toy's buttcheeks as hard as she could in a powerful slap. Child's play compared to the paddle, but the bruising back there was enough to force him to scream in pain.

"OOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!"

"Did I?" Michelle asked.

"...no...no...I'm sorry...I'm sorry..." he managed to just barely squeeze out of his vocal chords, sounding hoarse from all the laughter. "Sorry...please..."

Even though he was obviously dead tired, Daisy heard the fear in his voice. And all it did was excite her for what would come next.

"I guess you're going to need some additional bladder control training. And right in front of my daughter, too, don't you have an ounce of shame?" She picked up the giant sports bottle again and put it underneath his face. "You leave so much as a single drop, and Daisy will be introducing you to the other side of that paddle for the rest of the night."

He needed no further motivation than that. So, through a face that was absolutely covered in sweat and tears, as well as a stomach that hurt from all the laughing, he forced himself to suck down water through the straw. It took about thirty seconds for him to drain the rest of the bottle.

Immediately, Michelle was back digging around into the cart, Daisy feeling as if she was watching Santa Claus reaching into his sleigh to pull out her Christmas gifts. She produced two fistfuls of electric toothbrushes, her toy able to pick his head up enough to see and now possessing enough stamina to moan in fear.

"Remember. Every time you lose control of your bladder, it gets worse," she said warningly, although gone was her harsh tone, replaced with playfulness. Though for her toy, it was hard to say if one was better than the other.

Armed with the myriad of tools, Michelle went behind her victim, kneeling down alongside her daughter. "Want to learn his best spots?" she asked, looking more alive than Daisy had ever seen her before.

Daisy nodded, and Michelle wasted no time in reaching forwards, where his testicles were hanging. Her fingers easily found the little crevice where his thigh met his groin, jamming it right next to his balls, and started to goose her fingers on the inner thigh.

Despite mentally preparing for it, he screamed in shock, and began desperately trying to squeeze his legs shut. The straps up near his knees, however, made protecting his most private area impossible, and no matter how hard he tried to cover up, there was nothing he could do about that little window back there that Michelle was reaching through. Soon, his screams were intermixed with hoarse laughter. He sounded like a wild animal, and struggled in his bonds like one as well.

This time, Daisy felt only a few microseconds of surprise at seeing her mother reaching in so close to his private parts. She was, in fact, touching them. With each torture and embarrassment heaped on this toy that she witnessed, her ability to stop thinking about him as a human was becoming more and more advanced. She was no virgin, and had seen male private parts before, but normally this degree of intrusion on a man's privates would have made her uncomfortable. However, looking at him as just a toy, existing just to serve and amuse them, made it easy.

Michelle was not kidding, as he reacted very strongly to the tickling here. She worried that the straps that kept him in place might break. It seemed to go beyond mere superficial tickling here, each little teasing squeeze and prod making him react as if he was being branded. Michelle did not let up no matter how loudly he squealed.

She jerked her head down towards his feet, reminding Daisy that this was a team effort, and she went back to work on his soles. Scratching up and down on the pale, sensitive surfaces, thrilling in the reactions she could generate with the simplest of strokes and scratches.

It took much less time for him to lose, pissing himself yet again. He was so worn down and exhausted from what he had already been put through, the effort to clench the muscles needed to hold it in was just too much to ask.

"Disappointing," Michelle said, although she didn't sound disappointed at all as she got back to her feet.

The cycle repeated itself. She had him drink a large amount of water, then went back around behind him. This time, however, she picked up one toothbrush, clicking it to life, causing intense vibrations and a buzzing noise from it.

"Very well," she said warningly towards her toy, who was still sucking down oxygen with all his might. And then, she gestured towards his penis, glancing over towards her daughter with a welcoming, warm smile.

This time, Daisy didn't even hesitate. Her tanned fingers easily found that sweetspot, right between his testicles and thigh, and started pulsing right on it. He gasped, she felt his muscles tense in an attempt to protect the sensitive area, and then, the shrieking laughter started.

Michelle, meanwhile, started utilizing the electric toothbrush on his soles, running those whirring bristles up and down his feet. He screamed again, as if each new torture was allowing him to unlock some reserve compartment in his lungs that allowed him to vocalize his duress for a brief moment.

"Remember, every time you lose control, you get another brush," Michelle said conversationally. It was a deliciously evil game that could not be won, and if anything locked the victim in a vicious cycle that made losing all the more inevitable. "So, sweetie, what do you think?"

Daisy was practically getting drunk, digging her fingernail around in the crevice, relishing in how she could make him squirm and twitch so frantically with a single finger. "I think I want to know where you got this toy, and if they have any more," she answered wryly.

---

Part Eight: A Test of Will - [08ATOW]

Daisy didn't know exactly how long she and her mother spent down in that secret room that night. They had gotten lost in the fun of torturing the toy out of his mind, forcing him to pee over and over again, trapping him in that entirely unfair cycle. Listening to him beg for mercy during every break and looking at his tear-stained face was a delight, a thrill that could only be achieved by making someone suffer at your hands. He must have pissed himself a good ten times before they decided he had had enough.

In the coming weeks, Daisy learned the system by which her mother would take care of her toy. He was kept caged in a hidden compartment of the wall, in relative comfort, but restrained. When playtime came, Michelle would open the door of the compartment from outside the dungeon, and instruct him via an intercom system. The bondage rack in the room, which could be changed out, could be controlled entirely from the control panel outside the room, the restraints able to open and close via a switch, so he could get into position and be fully bound before the door to his cell was even opened. It was very important to have complete control over him at all times, no matter what, and not allow so much as a sliver of an opportunity to escape, or fight back. Survival instincts, adrenaline, and desperation were powerful, and neither woman wanted to find out just what he would be willing to do in order to get out of his situation.

Care also had to be taken to make sure that he wouldn't be able to hurt himself, as suicide was probably starting to look pretty appealing to him. Nothing could be left in the room that could be used as a makeshift weapon, and he could only be allowed short windows of time to move from his compartment to a rack unsupervised, lest he get up to something. Only very specific foods could be given to him, and given to her in very specific ways. She also learned that the anklet he wore was capable of delivering an electric shock, as a sort of final guard against him not behaving as ordered. A few of the live-in servants knew about the prisoner's existence, and could be called on to help care for him in the event of the Scott family being out of town for more than a day, but most of them needed to be kept in the dark.

But the reward for all that was, a few times a week, the two women got to experience the pure relief and unadulterated glee of tormenting their captive into a stupor. Tickling was always the main course, and Daisy had quickly discovered why. Not only was it very much a form of torture, it might have been the purest, most effective form of torture imaginable. Making it impossible for you to breathe, forcibly stimulating your most sensitive nerve ends, making your whole body thrash uncontrollably, and what's more, it never left a mark and it could be done virtually forever without worry of causing any actual harm. You could eventually run out of bones to break or skin to peel off, but tickling could go on forever.

But Michelle definitely knew other ways to have fun at her toy's expense. Right now, he was bound to an X-Frame rack that forced him into a kneeling position, strapped in by his wrists, waist, ankles, and thighs, as well as criss-crossing his chest. It was just the perfect position to have all of his most sensitive areas exposed, which they were most certainly exploiting. But that was only part of the game.

Michelle was behind him, hands roaming his exposed torso, splitting attention between his armpits, ribs, and sides with an expertise born of doing this for years. Her fingernails, just perfect for this kind of work, wreaked havoc all over his body, making him howl like a wolf and scream like a banshee, mouth wide open in laughter, tears somehow squeezing out of his tightly shut eyes. His body glistened with a mixture of sweat and a smooth sheen of body oil.

Daisy, however, had a gentle grip on his penis, right hand's fingers wrapped around the shaft. She was playfully running her fingers up and down his ultra-sensitive tool, eyes right on his beet red face as the contrasting emotions of agony and pleasure warred within him.

"I think he's enjoying this more than either of us!" Daisy called out over his laughter, feeling his erection surge in her hand, playfully rubbing his testicles with one of her fingers. "After all this time, he's still harder than steel."

It didn't matter that he was being imprisoned against his will, kept in dehumanizing and restrictive captivity, and being tickle-tortured to the brink of insanity. An extremely beautiful young woman, the kind of woman he would never even consider approaching in his everyday life, was playing with his cock. He could close his eyes, he could try to convince himself that he was getting jerked off by a guy, or his grandmother, but deep down, he knew. And that was arousing, no matter the circumstances.

"Well, the timer's at three minutes. If he can prove that he's not enjoying this, we'll let him go," Michelle said, revelling in how his sensitive body twitched under her tickling.

Through the incessant torture, he tried everything he could to resist, but it was no use. Like clockwork, Daisy's hand brought him towards yet another orgasm. He had already been forced to cum six times, so it was actually starting to get a little painful and exhausting. But that wasn't even the real problem.

Michelle had promised him that, if managed to go a full 30 minutes without cumming while given a handjob, she'd let him go, no strings attached. Of course, every time he came, she'd take advantage of his hyper-sensitive post-orgasm body and tickle him senseless for several minutes, then start it over. To his eternal frustration, he never came close to winning.

But with Daisy now participating, the game had gotten more complicated. Now, he was getting tickled while given a handjob, the two women trading off every round. You'd think the simultaneous torture would give him a better chance to suppress his orgasm and reduce his arousal, but you'd be wrong. If anything, even if it just made things worse for him, the addition of a girl like Daisy into the equation just made him hornier. Not even being mercilessly tickled could stop him from inevitably spurting his seed forward.

Every orgasm was accompanied by a furious, this time two-person, tickle frenzy, but they had decided to add an extra level to the punishment. After taking advantage of his increased sensitivity, he would then be covered in another layer of this evil body oil that decreased friction on his body and made him all the easier to tickle. At this point, he was so slick that he probably could have body-surfed the length of a football field if tossed with enough force.

Daisy drummed her fingers along his shaft in a gentle, playful way that drove him crazy, and he could feel the unwanted orgasm approaching. It didn't matter that Michelle had the power to simply break her promise even if he did win the game, nor did it matter that applying a half-second of thought to it would have made it very clear that she would never let him go, under any circumstances. He wanted to win. That tiny sliver of hope she was giving him was better than nothing.

And then, he lost again. More of his seed joined his previous ejaculations on the floor in front of him. His insane laughter was joined by a moaning groan, a guttural lament at his own inability to control himself.

"Looks like he still wants to be here," Daisy said, digging her fingernails into his inner thighs and scrabbling away, making him scream and convulse. "Whatever might come out of his mouth, his body tells the real story."

"AAAAAHAAHAHAHAASTAAHAHAAAHAAAHAHAAASTAAAHAHA!" he screeched, his heart pumping incredibly hard, as it did every time they cruelly took advantage of how sensitive he was right now. Perhaps one of these times, it would simply give out under stress and he could be set free from this miserable existence. But this wasn't that time.

A couple minutes passed before they stopped, both of them looking down on their broken toy with malicious amusement.

"You've orgasmed more in the last hour than you probably did in a week of your former life," Michelle teased him. "Of course you'd never want to leave."

He struggled to hold onto reality, finding that with each exhausting round he was less able to remember who he was, where he was, what was going on, what he wanted...his entire existence was fast becoming nothing but a bundle of nerves being stimulated. As if he was created and existed only to be tickled. In short, every day of this unbearable torture moved him one step closing to truly being what the two women wanted him to be.

"Please...please...please..." he couldn't even beg coherently anymore, not that that would have helped him. Just that one word, it was all he could hold onto as he huffed and puffed his way back into lucidity.

"Well, if you really want to stay here longer, fine, but you know the rules," Daisy said, pulling over a bucket filled with the thin yellow-ish liquid. "More oil."

Both women dipped their hands into the bucket and started slathering the slippery oil all over his naked body, giving absolutely no clearance or respect to his privates. It was unbelievable, really. Here he was, being oiled up all over his naked body by an attractive older woman and a supermodel-worthy teenager, and being jerked off in rotation by both of them like he was a milk cow, and he hated it.

"No...no...no more..." Other words began to return to him as he was given something of a respite. Though that was a loose usage of the word, given that he was still giving little shrieks of laughter and twitches as the two rubbed all over his body.

"Baby, we can see your salute down there," Michelle said, covering the soles of his feet in the evil substance. "You're having just as good a time as we are, even if you won't admit it."

"Do you have any idea how many guys out there would kill their mothers to trade places with you right now?" Daisy followed up. As much as it was a comment meant to make fun of him, there was some real truth to it.

He whined, diaphragm aching, every word he said causing more pain. He slumped over in his bonds, trying to relax every muscle in his body.