“You like this, don't you, Mother?” hissed Stefani, clamping a clothespin on her mother's upper tit.“It's... it's...” The woman's face contort...d. “It feels... It hurts, but... but... It feels... It makes me... I...”“You love it,” I purred, clamping another clothespin on her tit. They swayed. There were dozens of them per breast. “Don't you? You're just a naughty slave that loves the pain.”Mrs. Armstrong whimpered and nodded her head.“Do you see, Daddy?” Stefani said, her hand grabbing another. We had just finished, paid our bill, and stepped out onto the sidewalk when there arose the clatter of gunfire from up the street. A few moments later, four men came tearing by us, firing their guns behind them and riding as fast as their horses would take them.Bullets were flying this way, too, so Jeff and I ducked behind a watering trough and waited it out. Then we heard shouts of "bank robbery" and "don't let them get away." The marshal came charging up the street on his horse, calling for a. More

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