She didn’t dare to move her crotch, or she would have crippled herself, or even worse, would be bleeding to death.When the door to her office opened...she heard the sound of high heels on the floor, approaching her and suddenly, although damped by the head harness of the “Elle” magazine and the pantyhose she recognized the voice of Nicolette. All hopes of liberation vanished, when Nicolette, her Nicolette, her secretary that she had trusted said to her tormentor:“Jack, that’s been brilliant, how. I squirmed round and managed to drag one of the crutches over the seat, then opened the door and maneuvered it out. I followed it with my leg and managed to get upright, and leaned against the car wondering what came next. I didn't hear her approach.'You need practice. We'll do this again.' I felt churlish and incomplete and unattractive.'Why'd you wanna do that?''Just trying to dig through the dumb.' She handed me the other crutch. 'C'mon. Food's getting cold.' She walked beside me as I. Two eights are sixteen, and four makes twenty. Twenty eight. Twenty eight thousand. NO. wait. How can that be? Oh, I know! It’s point oh-eight times. Oh, I’ll just have to write it out longhand. Who knows how long she might have gone on like this, but she suddenly remembered she had a calculator in her desk drawer. Opening the drawer and rummaging around, she eventually fished it out from beneath a pile of pencils and paper clips. She blew the eraser dust from it, and turned it on. In a short. Just the thought of that string between mom's butt cheeks did it for me. Well how was I to know that they were new and somehow special? Well I got home from school one day, completely focused on wondering if my geometry teacher had a shaved pussy and there was mom, sitting on my bed, legs crossed with my "collection" in her hands (I kept them under my mattress where no one would look, so I thought).Well I thought she would tear into me as her panties were all filled with dried cum. Instead.
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