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The French Club

By: IdeeFixee



Part 3 — The French Club

Before beginning, please read Part 1: Mother's Helper, The Black Diary and Part 2: Service Provider. In Part 1, Janice, a hot and sexually frustrated single MILF, is riddled with guilt over her poor parenting of her hot son Matthew, a high school senior. Matt discovers his voluptuous mother's unquenchable penchant for sex and punishment, and quickly increases his dominance in a series of increasingly degrading sessions, many of which involve foodstuffs and common household implements. She is repeatedly gagged, clamped, whipped and fucked.

Janice becomes an obedient, full-fledged pain- and cum-slut, craving humiliation and accepting abuse. Once Matt discovers her black diary, which details her submissive, debased desires, he orders her to service relatives such as her nephew and sister, as well as others involved with Matt's life, such as his college advisor and college roommate.

In Part 2, Matt keeps Janice busy while he is away at college, garnering favors with influential patrons and expanding his network for future advantage. She trains the girl-next-door, satisfies the Headmaster of Matt's prep school, and takes on the three-man board of the prep school. Her debasement reaches new levels of sordidness when she satisfies the teen lusts of five students all at once. The Headmaster passes her on to his friend, a sadistic priest whom Janice has known since she was a teen, when she seduced him in Confession and in Sunday school.

Now in Part 3, Janice is used by the her son, next-door neighbor, other relatives and son's influential guests at her sordid birthday party. Matt takes her to the mall where she is further humiliated and debased. After an intimate session with a commanding masseur, mother and son are invited to France, where they visit a wealthy, private and exclusive club devoted to sons and mothers, located at a luxurious estate with a magnificent chateau. Janice becomes the centerpiece: first tested by the sadistic group leader, Gerard, then displayed, forced to be topless on the beach, and abused while exposed to a stranger.



Chapter One — The birthday

To celebrate her 37th birthday, Janice said she'd like friends and family to come for dinner. She let Matt handle all the arrangements, inviting six intimates: Janice's sister, Darielle; Darielle's son, Alex; Matt's mentor, Mr. Wheland; the Academy's Vice Chancellor and the Headmaster; and their slave-girl neighbor, Lauren. Understandably, Father Hood declined Matt's invitation.

Matt bought a new ensemble for Janice as a gift. The top was a form-fitting, plastic-based fabric, her breasts clearly visible beneath the smoky gray material. The skirt was the same tight plastic skin, suggesting her freshly-shaved pussy and marked thighs and ass. She cringed with shame when she looked at herself in the mirror and drank deeply from the large, strong cocktail Matt had provided for her. Naively, she'd imagined this would be a "normal" cocktail party.

At 7 pm, the guests were all gathered on the two facing couches in the den. Lights on tripods ringed the area. Matt's video camera rested on another tripod. When Janice entered, they gaped at her strange outfit but mumbled "Happy Birthday!" Ashamed at the outfit that exposed her, she looked around at the lights and camera, devices she had not expected. She had no idea that Mr. Wheland and the Vice Chancellor knew each other, but they sat together, chatting away. Little did she know that the old friends were finalizing the agenda for the evening.

Matt brought her a fresh, triple cocktail and placed it on the coffee table between the two sofas. At the foot of the coffee table was a thick pillow. He turned on the lights and camera. Mr. Wheland began, addressing the group. "Janice, kneel on the pillow and open the box on the table." She opened a leather box that was filled with chains and clamps. "Put two on your tits and two on your cunt lips." Janice took a drink to steel herself. She'd been a fool to expect a regular party. This promised to be a debasing orgy and cumfest. Cringing with shame as the six people stared, she raised two clamps and chains as Matt opened the small, hinged transparent cups that covered her breasts.

Since they were new, the clamps hurt fiercely as she applied them. Despite her tolerance—and need—for prolonged punishment, she moaned. Matt unsnapped the plastic sheath over her groin and she clamped her thick cunt lips, already swollen with excitement. "Stand up," Wheland said. Shakily, Janice arose, the four chains swinging obscenely outside the lurid outfit. "You're to suck off each and every one of us, but don't dare swallow a drop."

Although eager to fill her mouth with cock, they directed Janice to her sister, Darielle, who raised her skirt to reveal long slender legs. Janice knelt and proceeded to lick and suck her sister's slit and cunt. The others continued talking, drinking and consuming hors d'oeuvres as if this was no different from any other party. When Darielle climaxed, Janice inched over, still on her knees, lathered his balls and then blew her nephew, Alex.

The others stared, admiring her capacity, the boy's long member sinking into the wide, deep mouth of the birthday celebrant. Once Darielle's son had spewed into his slave aunt's mouth, Lauren presented a crystal bowl. Janice felt especially degraded when she leaned over the bowl and poured Alex's emissions from her mouth into the receptacle. When the last thick gob had fallen in, she licked the remainder of his load off her lips.

Soon, Mr. Wheland and the Vice Chancellor tugged on both her nipple and labia chains as she deep throated them. Both masters came all over her face and hair, whereupon Lauren scraped their clots from Janice's face into the bowl, now almost overflowing with jizz. 

The Headmaster was next. He pulled her nipple chains as she blew him and his load of hot spunk was transferred from her lips to the crystal bowl. Finally, the Vice Chancellor and Mr. Wheland had her kneel between them and ripped open the snaps between her breasts and over her ass crack, yanking the plastic open so more of her tits and her entire ass were exposed. The Vice Chancellor also adjusted the nipple chains so they were not threaded through the openings in the dress.

She simultaneously sucked them off as they tugged on all four of her chains until the Vice Chancellor blew his load onto her breasts and Mr. Wheland spun her around, pushed her face down into the carpet, and creamed all over her naked ass cheeks.

The Vice Chancellor pulled her up by her hair, turned her back around to face them, threaded her chains back through the dress's built-in bra cups and forced the snaps closed over her bulging tits—not easy because of the extremely tight fit—and his cum smeared across her breasts and inside the plastic. He took a moment to admire the tawdry effect. Once the plastic had closed over them, he kneaded her breasts so that his spunk spread more fully across them. Naturally, everyone looked at this new debasement and commented on their cum-slut's appetite for bukkake.

Following instructions, Lauren then fashioned a special cum-slut's drink. She poured a large amount of vodka into an oversized martini glass, covered the vodka with the spunk-sludge in the bowl, stirred it thoroughly and handed it to Janice, who was again kneeling at the foot of the coffee table.

Dazed and dehydrated after all her cunt- and cocksucking, seeking relief from more vodka, Janice accepted the further humiliation of drinking the special concoction. As soon as she drank, her nose, lips and chin were spotted with the cum she had just extracted.

Meanwhile, the Headmaster had picked up a large dildo from the sideboard with an oversized internal reservoir. Each of the guests had brought a week's worth of jerk-off in a plastic vial, fantasizing about this evening with their pain-slut, Janice. The Headmaster filled the dildo. Ready, he turned around to find the center of attention.

"Janice, are you thirsty for more?" She nodded, fascinated by the huge dildo he held a few feet from her face. "Turn so you're in three quarter profile. She shifted her head. The headmaster squeezed on the rubber dick but held the tip tightly shut. He found a better grip and squeezed even harder, pressing a button to open the head. A dense wad of jizz shot across the space and made a loud splatter on her cheekbone, drenching her cheek, eye and eyebrow. The goo dripped off onto her chest. The load had landed with such impact that clumps had landed in her hair and on her forehead.

The guests became even more excited at this new sight of humiliation. "Turn back," the Headmaster ordered. Without warning, another huge blast hit her straight on, drenching the bridge of her nose and her eyes, flowing down into her extended tongue as it retrieved the thick spunk.

The guests would not wait another minute. Mr. Wheland announced Part Two of their evening, in which the six guests would be divided into two groups, each of which would fuck all her orifices at the same time while the other group whipped the birthday girl. The first group would be gentler, consisting of Janice's nephew, Alex, his mother, Darielle, and Lauren. The second group was more cruel and uncompromising, comprised of the Headmaster, Vice Chancellor, and Mr. Wheland.

As soon as he heard his name, Alex had stripped and laid on his back on the coffee table. Lauren, who had been wearing only a leather bondage harness accenting her breasts, pussy and ass, began sucking and fisting his cock till it was rock hard while Darielle stripped off and attached the leather harness of a double-headed strapon to her groin. The men admired Darielle's nude body, sweating with excitement at the idea of her son and herself simultaneously double-fucking her sister. Lauren tipped over the crystal bowl and coated both of the black 8-inch dildos with the thick contents.

Kneeling in front of Darielle, Lauren worked the shaft into Darielle's cunt while the Headmaster ripped off Janice's disgustingly cum-filled outfit, removed her labia chains and positioned her over her prostrate nephew. He pushed the slave aunt's shoulders until Alex's dick was embedded in Janice's cunt. Darielle knelt on the table as Lauren spread Janice's ass cheeks and pushed her hips while Darielle worked the dripping dildo inside her sister's dark ring and then further.

Janice was in a special state of arousal and degradation, being fucked in front of a crowd by her sister and nephew. Another big dildo loomed into view, the hollow interior crammed with cum and strapped onto Lauren's groin. She gripped the rear of the slave's head and pulled it onto the dildo. All three began mercilessly fucking Janice as the men rained down a storm of abuse on the slave beauty's breasts and back. The Headmaster used a tawse on Janice's sticky, clamped and chained breasts while Mr. Wheland applied a crop to her back. Alex was thrilled to see the tawse crash into his aunt's breasts, the chains swaying wildly above him. Darielle likewise enjoyed the sight of the crop striping her sister's back. Janice shouted in a huge climax. When Alex screamed out that he was cumming, Darielle and Lauren squeezed their dildo reservoirs and overwhelming jets of heated cum exploded into Janice's mouth and ass.

When all three pulled out of her holes, she went to her hands and knees, three streams of jism trailing onto the table. As the groups switched places, Lauren held the vodka-cum mix to the birthday girl's mouth as she drank gratefully. Within moments, Mr. Wheland and the Vice Chancellor were fucking their slut's cunt and ass as the Headmaster stuffed her mouth. Alex gleefully whipped her breasts with the tawse and Darielle lined the slave's back with a flogger. Janice had several fresh orgasms.

Once the three men's cocks erupted in their cum-slave, they quickly withdrew and Janice collapsed on the table, cream running from her holes and covering the table in a spreading sheen of pungent semen. Her mouth, back, breasts and holes ached. Matt finished videotaping and turned off the video lighting. The birthday party soon broke up. Once the last guest had left, Matt positioned a penis gag at the entrance to his dazed mother's mouth and attached the two nipple chains to the mouth dildo. When he shoved it into her mouth, the chains wrenched her breasts and pulled her nipples till she screamed. He fucked her sopping cunt and then her ass, adding his load to the torrent already deposited in her.

Lauren, still wearing the dildo and harness, slapped the black cock against Janice's cock-stuffed cheeks and distended breasts, pulling the penis gag several inches out of Janice's mouth to relieve her tormented breasts and nipples. Without warning, Lauren would savagely force the mouth dick back till it was deep-throated, prompting another scream because of the distended tit flesh.

When Matt was done, Lauren knelt and cleaned his cock, dripping with the spend of five men from Janice's holes, while he marked Lauren's young breasts with the tawse. Finished with her cock cleaning, Lauren extracted Janice's penis gag while Matt undid the birthday mother's nipple clamps. The boy and girl went upstairs for more partying, leaving the older woman sprawled on the table.

When she awoke in the morning, she gazed down at her cum-drenched body, the striped belly and breasts, dehydrated and desperate for a drink. She wondered if it would be yet another glass of cum.

Coming: Janis is a good consumer at the mall.



Chapter Two — The shoe clerk

In the morning, once Janis had shaved her mound, showered and breakfasted, Matt told her he was taking her shopping and that she should wear a standard outfit: thin, tight blouse, full skirt and heels. He wanted to arrive at the mall when the stores opened at 10 am.

En route, Matt asked, "Did you enjoy your birthday present?"

Cringing with a wave of shame, Janice knew she had to answer. "Yes, thank you," she said, tersely.

To change the subject, she said, "Why are we going to the mall?"

"There's a shoe store there, with a clerk I've had my eye on," Matt said.

"What is it about her that you like?"

"Well, it's not that she's incredibly hot, which she is. It's that she doesn't seem to be aware of it."

Since it was first thing on a Monday morning, the mall was practically deserted—exactly why Matt had planned their visit for that day and time. The two of them stood outside the shoe store window for a couple of minutes, pretending to look at the window displays but surreptitiously observing the clerk, who had smiled at them. She walked around, bent over, knelt down and generally prepared for a day's business.

Janice noted that the girl was very pretty, with a slender but great figure, long straight black hair and an incredibly wide mouth, although her lips were average, not meaty like Janice's. And yes, even Janice saw how the girl, as a total package, was incredibly hot, and apparently entirely unselfconscious.

Matt led Janice off to a dim corridor that led to an emergency exit. Lining the corridor were a couple of large recycling bins. He pulled her behind the second of the two bins, where it was even darker in the shadows. "Raise your skirt," he ordered. Puzzled but compliant, she tucked it into her waist, exposing her long legs and freshly shaved mons.

Matt pulled out a pair of clamps connected to a long heavy chain. "Now?" she asked, frightened. "Here?"

"If you don't clamp yourself instantly, I'll hurt your tits so hard your screams will bring the security guard running."

Janice had no doubt he'd do what he said. Reluctantly, she took the chain in one hand while Matt poured oil into the other. She greased the prominent labia and they both watched as the two sets of metal teeth sank into the fat lips. She gasped but proceeded to lower the chain. Matt relished the sight of the lips stretching from the cruel weight of the chain. "It's too long, it will show," she said.

"No it won't. Drop your skirt down and let's go."

He grabbed her arm and led her out of the corridor into the main part of the mall. She walked tentatively, face flushed with pain and arousal as the swinging chain pulled her cunt lips with every step. Matt didn't mention that the chain did in fact appear briefly when her stride was widest and the skirt raised up.

Nor did she notice that the chain made a clanking noise with each faltering step, since the noise of the mall's recorded music drowned the metallic sound. Matt held open the store door and they entered. He walked her up and down the width of the window, pretending to look at all the different models on display. The clerk noticed the sound immediately but had no idea of its origin. She had time to note how that both the boy and the woman he was with were hot. She wondered if they were sleeping together, a young boy and a much older woman with a hot figure, dripping with sensual energy. How hot was that? And the woman's face was flushed with excitement. What was going on? the girl wondered.

Matt and Janice approached her at the main counter. "Good morning," he said, "I've noticed you here before."

"Oh, I'm April, welcome. How can I help you?" The girl noticed that the dark beauty's eyes flickered up to make only the briefest of contact, as if she was embarrassed to be seen in public with such a young lover.

"We'd like a pair of sexy heels—no, a pair of slutty heels."

"Well, we can manage that, no problem," April said smiling. After asking the shoe size, the girl said, "Have a seat, I'll be back in a minute."

Matt positioned Janice in a seat directly behind the counter. Only when she was seated did Janice realize that the counter was an effective wall, screening her completely from the windows. Just like the recycling bin in the corridor had blocked the view of any shoppers.

"Lean back and spread your legs," Matt ordered. His slut mother obeyed, tense with anticipation, while Matt moved a second footstool in front of her. April returned with three boxes and cheerfully sat on the stool in front of Janice, noting that the cute guy was standing behind the customer. She was surprised to see two footstools. Turning to the woman, April gasped and recoiled several inches, staring at a metallic glimmer peeking from below the hem of the woman's skirt. Could the clanking sound come from there? "Go ahead please," Matt said.

April lifted the beautiful customer's long leg by the ankle and placed her foot onto the angled support of one stool, causing the light skirt to slide back several inches, exposing a lovely expanse of thigh and a couple of inches of the chain. April swallowed, her eyes darting up to the woman's face, flushed with humiliation, eyes half-hooded. April looked at the boy, who stared back at her. "Go ahead, April," he said authoritatively. "I can tell you like it. That's why we're here."

April had an overwhelming desire to do whatever he wanted. It was as if she'd stepped through a curtain into a foreign country. She felt incredibly turned on and looked back at the woman, whose eyes were glazed with excitement. None of her friends were into anything remotely as kinky as this gorgeous S/M exhibitionist slut and her dominating companion. "I'll just lock the door," she stammered. She rose shakily and walked around the counter, locking the door and hanging a sign that read "Back in 15 minutes." She knew she was not supposed to break so early, but it was also a quiet Monday.

"Have you ever had a customer who's a submissive slut, who will do whatever you order?" Matt asked, teasingly. April pushed her own stool closer to the exposed woman, the proximity forcing the slut's leg higher so the skirt slid down to mid-thigh, exposing bare thigh flesh above the expensive stocking. The salesgirl lifted the obedient customer's other leg onto the second stool, sending the skirt sliding even more till it gathered near Janice's waist. "What's your slut's name?"


The French Club



"She's Janice and my name's Matt."

While removing Janice's shoe, the girl examined the chain, noting the heavy silver links. "Go ahead, touch it," Matt said. April ran her fingers along the cold metal, savoring the contrast of the cold metal and the woman's tanned, smooth and hot thighs, then inserted the exhibitionistic woman's feet into a pair of 4-inch heels. April felt an overwhelming desire and glanced up to ask permission. The boy was smiling and nodding. April looked at the docile woman as she grasped the chain and gently, slowly pulled. The slut jumped in her chair but then stayed still, except for moaning. With her other hand, April pushed the skirt all the way down, exposing the woman's panty-less pussy. God, she looked incredible, a pair of heavy clamps deeply embedded in swollen and distended lips beneath a shaved mound.

"She looks beautiful," April said, gazing up at the slut's master. "Stand up," she told the woman. "Matt inserted an arm under Janice's arms and raised her up. Janice rested both hands on April's shoulders for support. April stared at the barely visible tip of the chain, swinging freely beneath the hem. "Walk around," she said. With an effort, Janice took a few steps around the shop, cringing about the possibility of a shopper passing by, then returned to stand in the same place. "How do they feel?" the girl asked. Janice nodded briefly, totally turned on and completely humiliated. "Feel good?"

Desperate to end this scene, Janice said, "Yes, fine." April glanced up at Matt, her eyebrows raised in the gesture of "What next?" Matt walked over to a rack of shoe polish and returned with a bullet-headed bottle of liquid black polish. He handed it to the girl, who understood immediately but was incredulous. "Here? Now?" Matt nodded. "Okay," she agreed, very excited.

The girl tugged the chain much harder than before, forcing the embarrassed woman back into the chair. "Put those long legs back up on the stools," April ordered, thrilled to see that her first command was instantly obeyed by this well-trained, sexy piece, apparently the definition of a submissive. "Pull the skirt up to your waist so I can see that juicy wet cunt again." Obeying, Janice was amazed that this sexy young girl was becoming so dominant and lewd so quickly. "Now pull those fat lips apart." When Janice's long fingers had pulled her long flaps aside, April leaned in and slowly, steadily pushed the six-inch bottle all the way up her cunt. Janice groaned, too loudly. Matt quickly withdrew a four-inch wooden dowel wrapped in black plastic from his pocket and inserted it into Janice's mouth.

Matt noticed a leather shoehorn hanging from a hook on the wall. Aside from the handle, the main part extended a good four inches. He picked it up and dangled it in front of April's flushed face. "She'll fuck herself with the bottle if you want to whip her," he suggested.

"Whip her?" April repeated, taking the shoehorn, a bit dazed by the pace of events – and in the middle of the store. Matt observed how incredibly turned on she was, her own skirt hiked up on her perspiring thighs, nipples rock-hard beneath her blouse.

"Yes, do you prefer to flog her thighs or her tits?" It wasn't a tough choice for the girl, whose own pussy was dripping, her breasts sweating. But what if she chose the woman's breasts but didn't get to actually see them? "I – I don't know, I've seen her pussy but not her tits."

"A good point," Matt agreed. He was getting to like April more and more. The girl inserted a hand under her skirt and began stroking her slit while Janice, the plastic bottle still extending obscenely from her reddened cunt lips, unbuttoned and removed her thin blouse. "My God, they're incredible!" April whispered, gasping at the size and shape of the beautiful breasts, crisscrossed with striations and capped with enormous, extended nipples. "You don't live around here, do you?" she asked Matt. He shook his head.

With considerable force for a novice, April began striking the breast flesh as Janice pumped her pussy with the makeshift dildo. Between floggings, the girl pumped two fingers into her own cunt. Within two minutes, Janice's body lifted off the chair and she became rigid for a moment as her orgasm hit. The next moment she'd collapsed back onto the wet chair and was twisting in a sweat-drenched cum as the girl also climaxed, toppling forward off her stool until she was kneeling between Janice's spread wide legs and thighs. After a minute, she looked up at Matt. "Train me," she begged, "show me everything."

Next up: Janice uses her birthday gift certificate with a painful masseur.



Chapter Three — The masseur

Janice checked the address on the sheet of paper. It was hard to read in the twilight, but she was in the correct place. The directions said to walk around the large and pretty but dark house to the cottage in the rear. No neighbors were in sight.

She swallowed another slug of vodka from the flask in her handbag so she would be relaxed for the massage. When Matt had recommended to the birthday party guests that Janice would enjoy a massage gift certificate for her birthday gift, the Vice Chancellor had strongly recommended this particular body worker. But Janice had not realized he lived in such a countrified setting. Nor had she expected the gift certificate to be worth $500. What could be worth so much? After all, it was not a spa where she would receive wraps and steams and facials.

She rang the bell and the door was opened by a young, muscular hunk. "Good evening, I'm Brett." His curly light brown hair reminded her of Matt. She had forgotten to specify a preference for masseur or masseuse. Smiling, he invited her into the cozy cottage, which was decorated in a feminine manner.

"Hello, Brett, I'm Janice," she said, sitting on a sofa. "This is a sweet place."

"Well thank you." She noted his strong biceps and thighs under a thin, tight tank top and workout pants. She guessed him to be twenty-one or two. "Would you like a cocktail to relax?"

"That would be great. A White Russian, perhaps?"

"No problem." He quickly fixed her drink, which was surprisingly large and strong, better than any she'd tasted.

"This is delicious!"

"Thanks," he said. "Janice, I understand you know the Vice Chancellor?"

"Y-ye-yesss," she stammered, blushing, wondering if Brett really knew the nature of her relationship with the sadistic academic. When ordering your gift certificate, he gave me, how shall I say, a rough idea of your preferences."

"Oh?" she replied, stalling while trying to think. She took a long, slow drink. "What did he say?" she asked innocently.

"Let's see. . ." He flipped a couple of pages on a clipboard. "Here it is. He suggested intensive, deep tissue work, noting that you have a high tolerance for pain." He looked up at her from his notes, the picture of innocence.

Janice blushed and squirmed. "Yes, I suppose that's true."

"And that you do what you're told to do."

"Go on," she said, noncommittally.

"Let's see. You like young guys and prefer to be fastened for the painful parts."

She felt the drink going to her head. She was also perspiring in the heat of the cottage, which made sense for bodywork. "I've never had such a detailed initial questioning," she said hesitantly.

He stared at her boldly. "You've never had a session like the one we're going to do together." There was a lengthy silence. His eyes never broke contact.

"Perhaps you can tell me what sort of style or techniques you use? Shaitsu? Swedish? Reiki?"

"Oh, it's a bit of everything. But I can assure you it's both painful and pleasurable." Janice opened a couple of buttons on her blouse while she drank more.

"Is there anything you won't permit?" he asked, pen in hand.

She felt as though he could see right through her depraved nature. "I'll—I'll let you know if there is," she mumbled.

"The Vice Chancellor also said you work out intensively. Well, it shows. From what I can see, you've got a fantastic body. You're a very beautiful woman. We'll be pushing your flexibility and your stamina. Ready for a refill?"

"Yes please."

"Let's get started while I freshen up your White Russian. Walk to the rear room and disrobe." He left the living room for the kitchen. She remained, apprehensive. Upon his return, he was surprised to see her sitting there. He set down the large drink on the end table next to the sofa. His demeanor hardened. "I thought you'd be in the massage room."

"Could we keep it lit with just one candle?"

"I don't work that way. And with your body there's no reason to be shy. Why?" There was a long moment of silence, which he was determined not to break.

Janice drank. "My body has marks," she said, humiliated.

"So?" Brett laughed. "Everybody does: birthmarks, scars from surgery or accidents. I've seen it all."

"Ummm. . . They're not those kinds of marks," she said, restless and shifting her position on the sofa.

"What kind are they?" he asked commandingly. She wouldn't answer. He approached her and slapped her cheek.

"Discipline marks," she eked out in a barely audible voice.

"I see. . . where are they located?" He was relentless, Janice thought. He waited in the heavy silence.

"They're—they're on my ass."

"Where else?" Her head snapped up to look at him. It was as if he knew everything about her. But she couldn't say it aloud. He leaned over and slapped the side of her left breast.

"Ow!" she yelled. "On. . . on my chest!"

"Where on your chest?" She defied him with no response. He slapped the side of the other breast, harder than the first slap.

"My breasts," she said, her chest heaving.

He slapped the top of her breast. "Say again?"

"My–my tits."

"That's better. Why were you disciplined?" He waited a long time for her reply.

"Because I deserved it," she confessed, ashamed.

"Why?"

"For being a bad mother."

He threw a cushion from his chair onto the floor at her feet and sat on the chair. "Kneel." She took a large swallow from her drink and slowly sank to the pillow on her knees. "Turn around." The pillow swiveled on the wood floor until she was facing the sofa. "Lean over onto the sofa." When she was in position, he ordered her to pull up her skirt. Janice heard him gasp at the sight of her perfect ass, covered by a multitude of lines and welts. "Beautiful. Turn back." She rotated to face him again, the skirt dropping. "Now the blouse."

With agonizing slowness, she undid the row of buttons and let the blouse drop. "Mmmm," he murmured, taken aback by the big, gorgeous breasts, the aroused, extremely dark nipples, and the severe degree of markings. "Incredible. How much do your nipples extend?"

"Over an inch. . . when no devices are used," she responded, fully aware of how hot her body was.

"How long have they stretched when clamped?"

"Over an inch and a half."

He could barely wait to clamp her tits with a pair of 1"-wide binder clips he had customized by adding serrations. "Who administered your punishments?"

"Different people," she muttered evasively.

"How many and who were they?"

"My son's college mentor, his college friends' fathers, and the board at the Academy—including the Vice Chancellor." She didn't mention Father Hood, Mr. Dugan, the Father's friend and her neighbor, the boys at the Vice Chancellor's pool party, the students when she'd been a substitute teacher, Floyd, her son's roommate, her neighbor Lauren, or the custodian. She also omitted her family: her sister Darielle, her nephew Alex and her son Matthew.

"That's quite a list. It sounds like you're a hardcore pain slut, an SM slave, doesn't it?"

"Please sir, please whip me, cane me, clamp me, fuck me, but don't ask any more questions," she begged.

He ignored her plea. "Does your son have an idea how debased you are?"

"Oh God," she thought, "anything but Matthew." Brett noticed how her nipples hardened and her breathing deepened as soon as he mentioned her son. Without warning, he leapt from the chair and cropped the top of her breasts with a quirt that appeared from nowhere. She screamed from the blow and, to avoid massaging or hiding her burning breasts, voluntarily locked her fingers behind her head.

"Yes. . . yes he knows."

As a livid weal formed on her tits, Brett admired the depth of her training, hands behind her head. He sat again. "Tuck your skirt into your waist." She complied, exposing her shaved pussy and spreading her thighs. He observed the cane marks on her vulva, the fat clitoris and the long, thick labial lips, already glistening. The chocolate nipples had grown still longer.

"What does your son do about your being a bad mother? And what does he think of your degrading behavior?" She shook her head mutely, a blank refusal.

Slowly this time, he rose, walked the few feet to the sofa, grabbed the hair at the back of her head and pulled it back until their eyes locked. Without breaking contact, he swung the quirt and lashed her cunt. She screamed and started bucking her hips in a first orgasm, diddling her oversize clit, her head writhing back and forth, sinking into a droning "Uhhhhhh!" as her climax subsided and her head hung down. Brett was pleased: not only had a direct slash on her cunt brought her off, but she'd cum quickly and powerfully.

"I asked you a question," he reminded the sweating slave, speaking directly into her ear.

She looked up, dazed from the pain and orgasm. "What question?" she asked, innocently.

"Tell me about your son," Brett hissed. "I'll clamp you here and now if you don't answer." He saw her eyes light up at the mention of clamps. He went to the massage room and returned with four binder clips as she was draining her second double White Russian, white liquid dribbling from her lips onto her breasts as she upended the glass, her eyes staring dully.

Brett sat on a low ottoman in front of her. She moaned when she saw he had not one pair of clips, but two. She resumed stroking her clit as she watched him thread a slim black cord through the holes in one pair of metal clips, then the other. When he saw how excited she was becoming, he understood that she wanted the clips, needed the clamping before she would tell him any more.

Ready, he held the first pair up in front of her, one clip in each hand, and slowly forced the springs open. "Oh my God," she cried when she saw the two rows of serrated teeth. She started speaking in a panicked jumble. "Matthew is ashamed of me as a mother."

"Go ahead, Janice. But it's too late to avoid these." He moved the clips to her fat nipples as she thrust two fingers into her cunt.

"He thinks I'm a tease who'll do anything for cock, so he punishes me." Brett slowly closed the first clamp on the giant nipple, fascinated by the sight of the gleaming teeth sinking into the dark turgid flesh. She shrieked but didn't miss a beat with her pistoning fingers. When she could speak, the words rushed out. "He uses me like his personal house slave. He dresses me like a hot slut." She was getting into a verbal rhythm.

Brett released the second clip, the teeth sinking so deeply the nipple bulged around it. She shouted and shoved a third finger up her cunt. "He forces me to suck his big cock and drink his hot cum. He pours his cum on my dinner and makes me eat it."

Brett picked up the second pair of clips. "He ties me and clamps my big tits" she added desperately. Brett opened the clamps wide. "He shoots his load all over my face and tits." In a last desperate rush, she yelled, "He fucks my hot mouth. He fucks my hot pussy. He fucks my hot ass." Despite her hand with fingers up her cunt, Brett positioned the clamps over her labia. "He plugs my holes with dildos. He humiliates me by whoring me out to relatives and friends for gangbangs and whippings and Bukkake. He makes me service five guys at a time."

Brett released the clips simultaneously. Janice shot up in a frenzied reflex and uttered a piercing scream as she came, the large breasts flopping up and down and side to side with the obscenely vicious clamps hanging on for the ride. The labia clips kept banging into each other. As far as Brett could tell she was having a series of shattering climaxes until she sagged back against the sofa, her head lolling. She probably had no idea what was happening when he grabbed her hands and dragged her across the slick wood floor to the massage room, where he hoisted her onto his special massage table and placed her face down on the black leather.

Her breasts fell through the two openings in the table until the clips could be seen hanging down beneath the table bottom. Brett strapped in her wrists and ankles, then widened the two separate supports beneath her legs until they were spread wide, her dark rosebud and dripping cunt gaping open. He dropped his pants and removed the labial clips, exposing the raw and reddened lips.

Janice's eyes shot open in shock when she felt the large cock ram into her cunt. Brett massaged her back and shoulders as he vigorously fucked her, mashing her face and breasts into the holes in the table. Suddenly he withdrew and spurted for what seemed like a full minute over her taut ass cheeks. After a couple of minutes she felt an object scrape across her ass, apparently collecting his spunk. A moment later a stool appeared under the table and beneath her face, on which he placed a bowl filled with his jizz. She was amazed at how much there was and began squirming in frustration when the tangy scent hit her. "Please let me drink it," she begged, but Brett ignored her and left.

Janice awoke from a semiconscious state when Brett lifted her like a doll and stood her up against a modified X-frame, strapping her in. The modification left her buttocks exposed for whipping or fucking. He tilted the frame slightly forward, just enough so that the weights would hang freely, rather than get some support from her ribs and thighs. He dipped his fingers into the bowl of thick semen and roughly milked her nipples with one hand and her clit with another. When he was satisfied that they extended as much as possible, he clamped all three and weighted them, using the heaviest amounts Janice had ever withstood. She writhed in pain and excitement, seeing her nipples distend more than ever before. Naturally, she couldn't see how much her poor, fat clit had been distorted.

"Your nipples are the most incredible I've seen," he said. "Of course, you've had them whipped numerous times." She nodded, sweating from the torture. "But always in the boring, standard way, straight on." Her eyes widened with fear. "I'm going to whip them on all four sides." He found a dildo, coated its length with cum and drove it up her freshly fucked cunt, watching her gasp with pleasure. He raised a thin quirt and slowly struck each of the dusky nipples on the tops, sides and bottoms. Screaming gutturally, her pelvis rocked and smashed against the wood X-frame in yet another climax, the weights so heavy they swung much less than lighter ones.

Brett lubed two thick fingers until they were dripping with cum and inserted them all the way into her nether ring. He increased the angle of the frame so he could get an optimal angle to her asshole, coated his prodigious cock and began to fuck her ass with his massive cock. Just before he came, he reached around her front and released first her nipples and then her clit. When she cried out in pain from the rush of blood filling the obscenely stretched nipples and clit, he came in a burst of ecstasy, filling her amazing ass with a flood of juice, as much as from his previous load.

To follow: France and a unique private club.



Chapter Four — The setup

In August, Matt and Janice arrived in Paris, checking into an elegant old hotel associated with the resort. There were no single rooms, only suites featuring beautiful furnishings, high ceilings and the marble fireplaces they'd admired in the Newton photos.




The French Club



On their first evening they were too jet-lagged to do anything but sleep. During the next day, they engaged in the standard activities of a first-time tourist in Paris, the Eiffel Tower, the Champs Elysée, shopping, and so on. Matt insisted they rest from 4–6 pm.

At dusk, drinking champagne, Janice changed into her new lingerie and the clothes she'd purchased during the day at two specialty boutiques she'd been directed to. These expensive outfits were black, either sheer, revealing, constricting, or otherwise conducive to their roles as submissives. The clothes frequently had straps, wide belts, and sheer lace.

They met their master in the sitting room and enjoyed more champagne. The hotel thoughtfully – and discreetly – provided a large armoire full of all the implements Matt could think of. Despite the heat, Matt turned off the air conditioning and opened the French doors. He told his slave mother to remove everything except her shelf bra, garter belt, stockings and heels. He strapped her to iron rings drilled into the marble at the sides of the main fireplace.

Janice had begun perspiring from the August heat, the exoticness of their surroundings, and from apprehension about whether Matt would inflict some new torture or debasement on her, some unknown level of pain and pleasure. He could feel her excitement. He lit a small fire so it would light her glistening body. Immediately, he saw her slut juices streaking the inside of her thighs, reflected in the firelight. He wiped his fingers through Janice's juices, held his fingers in front of her face, and told her to lick them off.

At that moment, room service arrived. An attractive man and a young woman pushed a serving cart into the sitting room. This surprise appearance made both Janice cringe with humiliation. Janice noted that the maid's traditional uniform was much like the one Janice wore during the degrading dinner she'd had with Matt and her sister. The two staff members arranged the cold buffet. When they were about to leave, Matt tried to tip them. The butler informed him that, rather than tip with cash, many guests gave a single gratuity, before their departure, in the form of their slaves. Matt thought that was an excellent idea.

The morning of the club meeting, a large black Mercedes took them to the country spa. Janice woke up feeling apprehensive and could not eat any breakfast. Although not enormous, the chateau was large and beautifully kept. They did not see any other guests. The butler escorted them directly to their suite, where fresh fruits, flowers and drinks awaited them. He spoke perfectly acceptable English, suggesting they relax by the pool where a light lunch could be served. Following luncheon, a walk around the grounds might be pleasing.

"Monsieur and Madame, please be sure to rest this afternoon before dinner, since tonight will probably continue many hours. Champagne and hors d'oeuvres begin at eight o'clock."

"Where are the other guests?" Matt asked.

"They will be arriving later in the afternoon," he said.

A pretty young maid unpacked Janice's luggage in the smaller bedroom, appearing to be familiar with the special bras, panties, stockings, thongs, waist cinchers, garter belts and other exotic lingerie.

In the master bedroom, the maid carefully unpacked Matt's clothes and paraphernalia, organizing the ropes, clamps, dildos, chains, weights, rings and other items in orderly groupings within the drawers.

The two of them enjoyed a couple of hours at the pool, swimming and reading, where they enjoyed a lovely lunch. After changing, they strolled around the magnificent grounds and returned to their suite to rest by mid-afternoon.

Two more maids arrived in the late afternoon, slightly older than the first one. By now, Janice was nervous. Matt gave them instructions on certain details and they carried a box of items into the dressing room adjacent to the bathroom.

They whisked her into the spacious bathroom, where they gave her two enemas, bathed her, and sprayed her with a tanning solution. Then they worked on cutting and styling her hair, shaving hr pussy, and applying makeup, all the while reassuring her. Anybody with her magnificent face and body would perform wonderfully, they told her. From the way her body responded to the bath and styling, they could tell the guests would like her. These comments calmed the apprehensive mother. She did not want to disappoint Matthew or embarrass Mr. Wheland.

Two hours later, Janice emerged from the bathroom/dressing room. Matt was impressed by how stunning she looked, and said so. Her lustrous black hair was cut shorter than usual, accentuating her young appearance. Her makeup was heavier than ever, but beautifully done, accentuating her eyes and lips. Her calf-length length black dress was gorgeous. The bodice was sheer, covered by a very short gray jacket that extended down just below her breasts.

At 7:00, fortified from a bottle of delicious champagne, Matt and Janice joined the others, a half dozen couples, on the terrace. They were impressed by the handsome young men, dressed like Matthew in gray or dark blue suits, and beautiful women, all finely dressed. More champagne and food was pressed on Matt and Janice. For the most part, everybody was most pleasant, excited to have their first American couple. Everybody was well-educated and therefore spoke English. A couple of the women were cool to Janice, but she'd been warned about that tendency of the French and didn't let it bother her, especially since most of the women were welcoming and friendly.

After a few minutes, Janice realized that all the women were older and that the young men were teenagers. At first she thought it was wealthy women with young bucks, but that didn't seem correct. One of the young men turned to sit on a chair around the edge of the group. As soon as he did, the woman he was with accompanied him. Except that he sat in a chair while she knelt by his side.

Janice's head rotated across the group, so animated and chic and alluring. The secret hit her full force. She was staggered by the realization, her cunt fluttering, her head dizzy. She downed almost an entire glass of champagne. No, she must be mistaken. She turned back to look at the boy sitting. He was feeding the kneeling woman. Yes, they looked just like each other. These people were just like Matthew and her – women with their sons.

Janice turned to stare at Matthew, her heart pounding. "Yes, Mother," he smiled. "They're just like us. Except they've been doing it a lot longer than we have. Each of these beauties is both a mother and a slave to her son. Although they're all gorgeous and expensively dressed, at heart they're all submissive sluts, just like you are. Now that you know the truth, you can relax." She took another glass of champagne from a waiter and swallowed hard. "But you won't be able to relax too long. As soon as it's dark, you and I will be performing for all of them. An audition of sorts, so they can determine whether or not we'll be admitted for membership."

"Membership?"

"Apparently, they visit each other all around the country. And of course the mothers serve any son – or group of sons – at any time."

She looked back at the couple on the periphery. The woman's jacket had been removed, the zipper on the front of her skirt undone, exposing her beautiful stockinged thighs and bald pussy. A pair of black panties filled her mouth and her bra had been pulled down to expose her breasts. Another boy, standing next to her, was pulling and twisting her nipples while talking to the seated boy.

Janice finished her champagne and turned back to Matt. Never before had an entire group of strangers watched her being degraded and abused by her own son, forced to service him like a cum- and fuck-slut. Everything started spinning. She collapsed into Matt's arms.

Coming: Janice is humiliated with intimate questions and passes the first test.



Chapter Five — The dinner

Janice became aware of a knocking at the door. At the last knock, she opened her eyes. The knocks were slaps to her face in order to revive her. She was seated on a plush, high-backed dining chair. In front of her was a long, rectangular table laid with beautiful cloth, china, silver, glasses and candles. Oh, the candles: dozens of them. Even though it was dusk, the multitude of candles created bright illumination. The chairs were filled with the seven members plus Matt, who sat at the end, furthest from her.

When she saw her son, Matt, it all came flooding back. Matt had been invited, with his two personal slaves, to attend a mysterious club gathering for the weekend at a fabulous mansion in the remote French countryside. The outdoor cocktail party where she'd fainted had been full of handsome boys and beautiful women. The shocking truth was that this was a slave club with a twist – the women, all mothers, were like Janice: degenerate slaves to their sons. However, none of the mothers were now presently sitting at the table.

Janice could not know they'd been sent indoors for their dinner and would rejoin them outside for Janice's initiation trial. She would never have imagined that they were avidly discussing the hot American beauty. They placed a variety of bets, such as: how much weight her nipples and labia could take in ounces, how many strokes of the whip she could withstand, whether she could deep throat her son, how many times she could be fucked in the mouth, cunt and ass in one session, and so on.

Gerard, the boy sitting directly across from Janice, was the tallest and arguably, besides Matt, the best-looking. He leaned forward to begin his inquiry. "Janice," he asked with a stern expression, "when did your physical relationship begin with Mathieu?"

Janice noted that, although Gerard spoke with a strong French accent, his English was excellent. "I don't remember. Quite some months ago, shortly after he was eighteen, before college."

The other six stared at her as intently as Gerard did. "Why did your relationship begin?"

"Well," she paused in humiliation, "I suppose, because after my husband I had no partner, even though I dated a few times. But the men were either jerks, had boring personalities, or didn't attract me physically. Whereas Matt is incredibly good-looking, smart, and . . ."

"And what?" Gerard asked.

She glanced at her son, who sat quietly. "And he was very strong, very commanding." Gerard sat still, waiting for more. "Plus, Matthew could control me. . . he corrected my bad behavior."

"Undo your jacket." She unbuttoned the short jacket, aware of the sheer material beneath. She remembered the previous times when she'd been questioned, like sitting on the coffee table in her den, topless in front of Mr. Wheland. "Now remove the jacket." Once the jacket was down to her elbows, the boy sitting to her left prevented her from removing it completely. Her arms were now pinned. Janice's eyes were closed, lost in the memory of the clips Mr. Wheland had attached to her nipples and clit. How he'd forced her to answer his insulting questions by twisting and slapping the clips. She opened her eyes, wondering if Gerard was as cruel and domineering as Mr. Wheland or the Vice Chancellor. She figured nobody could possibly be as sadistic as Father Hood. She watched the boys stare as the cool evening air hardened her nipples, so fat and prominent beneath the thin bodice.

"May I have more champagne?" she asked. Gerard nodded to the boy sitting next to her on the right. He brought a full glass to her lips. She swallowed half, gratefully. Suddenly, the boy yanked open her bodice, exposing her full breasts resting on a leather half-bra. A couple of boys murmured their approval of her tits. Abruptly, she felt the rush of champagne going to her head. "How does it feel to have your tits exposed to seven strangers?" He lit a cigarette while waiting for her answer.

"Uhhh, I feel embarassed. . . No, I feel humiliated."

Gerard exhaled a stream of smoke. "Then why do you do it?"

Several of the other boys lit cigarettes. "Ummm. . . because it pleases Matthew."

Gerard was relentless. "Is that the only reason? Because it is what your son wishes?" She sat, cringing and speechless. She darted a glance at Matt, whose expression was as stonefaced as the others.

"Janice, your face is red. Perhaps we should cool you more. Spread your legs!" As dictated by her training, she opened her legs until her shoes were outside the front chair legs. Mr. Wheland had made her spread her legs as well before forcing her to spread her outer lips. "Philippe," Gerard said to the boy on her left, who pulled her gown up her thighs until it was bunched at her waist, exposing her gorgeous thighs and the beautiful lace at the tops of the expensive French stockings. During this exposure, Janice was remembering when she was on her knees, deep-throating her son, her finger embedded in his ass, a wooden kitchen implement in her own ass, while Mr. Wheland fucked her cunt from behind.

For the first time, Gerard turned to Matt. "Mathieu, is this behavior typical? She does not answer questions?"

"It happens sometimes," Matt murmured apologetically.

"When it happens, what is your response?"

"She is punished," Matt explained.

"How do you discipline her?"

"Either she is slapped, bound, whipped, flogged, caned, clamped, or weighted."

"I see," Gerard said. "Janice, would you care for more champagne?"

"Yes, please!" Gerard leaned over the table, lifted the glass with his left hand and held it to her lips. She swallowed eagerly until he slapped her left breast with his right hand, hard. She screamed, as much from the surprise as from the pain, spewing champagne over her chest and place setting.

"I asked you a question," he said in a quiet voice. "Are you a submissive who experiences humiliation only because it is what Mathieu wishes?"

"No," she whispered, eyes downcast." "No. . . it's also because. . . because I deserve it. . . I need it."

"That is better," Gerard responded. But he was only warming up. "Is it not true that you crave punishment?" Meekly, she nodded her head. Gerard nodded his head as well.

Philippe and Rene, the other boy, pushed Janice forward until her stomach pressed against the table. Philippe placed two short, empty wine glasses in front of her. Rene lifted a champagne bottle out of an ice bucket and filled both glasses. Philippe unhooked the leather half-bra from between her breasts and moved the cups to her sides. Each boy took one of her breasts and lifted it so the fat globes rested on the wine glasses, the huge nipples extending over the edge. In spite of this new degradation, Janice giggled as the bubbles tickled her breast flesh.

The boys discussed the many marks striping her breasts. Gerard asked Matt to describe which instruments caused which lines. Gerard turned back to the mother, so lewdly on display. "In which places does your son fuck you?" he asked. Janice was aghast. She did not reply. Surely Gerard knew the answer and was simply debasing her more.

She stopped smiling when each of the boys produced a small lighter from a pocket and set it on the table, one under each nipple. "No!" she yelled, desperate. "He fucks my mouth, my cunt and my ass."

"Your reply arrived too late," said Gerard, pityingly. The boys flicked their lighters and short flames emerged. Immediately, her nipples felt the heat. To her shame, she liked the sensation and squirmed in her seat, moisture emerging from her exposed pussy. "Which orifice do you prefer?" asked Gerard, as if he had all the time in the world. She sat mutely.

When she hesitated, the boys pushed the lighters' tiny levers to the next higher position. Sweat broke out on Janice's face and chest. Her eyes fluttered, adjusting to the hotter flame. The cold champagne was a bizarre contrast to the strong heat of the flames. She wished one of them would take one of the sweating nipples into his mouth and bathe it, or maybe pump her clit. "I like it most in my mouth. . . and in my ass."

"You must learn to respond promptly, Janice. Continué," Gerard ordered, shoving back his chair and walking around the table until he stood behind her chair.

Phiippe and Rene each produced a metal keychain connected to a small metal key ring. When the boys placed each of the key rings on a nipple and raised the flames another notch, Janice quickly understood. The bottoms of the chains swayed in and out of the flames, the metal conducting the heat directly to her nipples.

Marc, the boy with the largest upper body strength stood, walked over to her chair, pulled her top off her arms so they were free, inserted his arms under hers, and lifted Janice. While he held her raised, Philippe positioned a double dildo on the seat of her chair while Rene strapped it into place. Philippe lubricated the anal dildo.

Upon Gerard's signal, Marc lowered Janice until her groin made contact with the dildos. Philippe guided the large cock into her cunt while Rene aligned the big anal dick with her dark ring. Upon the double insertions, her eyes closed with pleasure, she cried "Arrrggghhh!" But her eyes flashed open with frustration when Marc refused to lower her any further.

Instead, Gerard raised one of two metal tools. It was a four-inch, round metal cylinder. At the base was a wheel that rotated. At the other end, four pincer claws opened. Janice's eyes widened with dread. It was a type of tong, used for picking up sugar cubes. Gerard smiled and leaned forward, twisting the knob so the pointed claws closed around the tip of her nipple, above the key ring, just enough so the metal hung down. Janice struggled in resistance, her legs shaking with the strain, but Marc easily held her.

Gerard loosely attached the claws on her other nipple. He glanced at Marc to be sure he was ready. Marc nodded. Janice was in such a state of arousal and pain that she looked on as if someone else's breasts were being tortured in front of her. Time slowed as she watched Gerard slowly twist the first knob. The boys were rapt as the gleaming pincers applied pressure to the fat black nipple, causing it to bulge and elongate. Janice was as amazed as the rest to see the metal pincers sink deeply—at least a half inch—into the nipple buds from all around it. Janice screamed. Inside the mansion, the mothers paused in their dinner, distracted by the screams, wondering what novel abuse their sons were engaged in.

The boys had never seen anything like this: a submissive whose nipples were so lengthy that two appliances could be attached, a key ring and tongs. Nor had they ever witnessed a slave mother whose nipples were as thick as this one's. She did not immediately feel the pain as a separate sensation, nor was she aware of her screaming, because at that moment Marc released her arms. Her weight sank her down on the double dildos and she climaxed in a second orgasm that engulfed her in an ocean of ache and bliss.

Gerard had prepared two more questions for Mathieu's slave mother. "How many men do you like to fuck in an evening, you slut? And will you fantasize that we are all your sons?" Without waiting for a response, Janice's tormenter screwed the second set of points into her nipples, leaving the final sadism to Philippe and Rene. In tandem, they dropped the lighters and, holding short canes, rained down a flurry of strikes on the tops and sides of her breasts.

The boys dropped the canes and, each holding the stem of a wine glass in one hand, used the other hand to grasp a breast and plunge the burning nipple and hardware into the champagne glasses.

Janice screamed in a berserk ongoing orgasm, the searing heat from her clit merging with the searing coldness of her nipples, fused into a burning ecstasy. She smashed her thighs into the table, knocking over the two glasses as she crashed up and down on the chair.