Friday, P.M.

The boardroom was large and airy, windows along three sides. The room itself was almost square, with a long table running along the far side. All Rachel and Sally could see, as they entered, were the silhouettes of about twenty men, sitting on the far side of the long table, outlined against the windows behind them. Stacked against the one windowless wall were cupboards, drawers, and various items of painful looking furniture. The ceiling above them seemed packed with a multitude of hooks, ropes, and tracks. On their side of the room the only item of furniture not against the wall was the table they'd been told about, low and large enough for them both to lie on, a small pile of leather cuffs awaiting.

None of the men in the room said anything as they entered. So, following instructions, they walked across to stand in front of the table. After a few minutes under the board’s assembled gaze, which somehow didn't seem so bad after the trial of their walk to get here, impatient noises from their audience encourage them to move on to the next part of the program.

****

Sally grunted as she finally pulled the second boot off, her teeth protesting at the strain. She was glad now they had both been given such flimsy clothes. The dress and bikini had been pretty easy to remove, even if the stench of her daughter's piss in her mouth had made her gag a little when, as directed, she carried them to the basket in the corner. With the final boot deposited, she returned to the centre of the room to await her daughter's ministrations.

For Rachel it was the stockings that proved trickiest. In the end she just had to chew the piss-soaked material free where it clipped onto the suspender belt.

Now they were standing stark naked before the board, both wondered what was coming next. It was only a few seconds before a man in the middle of the table spoke.

"I see you couldn't hold it in, walking through town. That must have been embarrassing, pissing yourselves in front of everybody." he sounded amused. "Now, raise your hand if you need to go again."

Well, I expected this, thought Rachel. I've pissed myself out in public, will it really be worse doing it in front of these people? And those damn drugs do mean I need to go again. She timidly raised her hand, as her mother did the same.

"We'd better let you go then." He paused, as though thinking. "Can't have you getting our floor wet though. You'd better drink each other's. If Sally kneels down, Rachel can go first. Get your mouth right over her snatch, we don't want splashing."

Rachel tried to go gently, but the diuretics were doing their job. Her piss gushed into her mother's mouth far faster than it could be swallowed, forcing its way out of the sides and through her nose. When it was Sally's turn, Rachel fared even worse. She hadn't realised how the stink would make her gag, and great gobbets escaped to splash down her body and onto the floor.

"Oh dear, that's no good. Look at the floor. We can't have you pissing everywhere all afternoon." He definitely sounded amused now. "Sally, go to drawer four on the wall behind you and take out what you find in there."

Sally wasn't sure what she'd got, as she returned holding the items cautiously in her hand. They looked like small rubber dildos with little sharp metal spikes, sweeping backwards, all over them.

"Got them? Excellent. One of those shoved up each of your pee-holes will stop you getting our floor any wetter. Sally, you can do Rachel first, better get her kneeling up on the table."

"Brace yourself." Sally told her daughter. "This isn't going to be pleasant."

"Those look nasty." Rachel said nervously, as she clambered up, "What are they for?"

Sally regretted her promise to be completely open and honest with her daughter, but it was too late now to back out.

"I'm going to be shoving this up where you pee. I think those spikes will dig in and hold the plug inside you." She looked at her daughter's trembling backside, her pussy exposed to the gaze of all these strange men, and swallowed before continuing. "That Jo knows what she's doing, this is going to be painful. The only way you'll be peeing again is if this gets yanked out, and that will shred you."

Sally could see her daughter tense. Regardless, she spread Rachel’s delicate vulva and searched for the little opening she was about to brutalize. Although they'd agreed not to spare each other, and she was pleased they’d done that, she still paused before inflicting this first act of pain. This vicious little plug signalled the point of no return.

"Mum, get on with it." hissed Rachel, pulling Sally out of her reverie.
 
Embarrassed by Rachel's commitment, Sally stopped hesitating and shoved the plug in hard, drawing a howl from her daughter that caused a pleased murmur to ripple through the audience behind them.

“I feel like I’m splitting.” panted Rachel, as she climbed awkwardly down from the table to make room for her mother. She whimpered a little as a movement drove the spikes into the soft walls of her urethra. Undaunted, she barely paused before subjecting her mother to the same treatment. Both women had now, almost certainly, taken their last piss.

"What'll happen now?" Rachel asked, as she helped her mother stand up again.

"Unless those are pulled out, which would rip us open, our bladders will swell and burst. If you try and pee you'll just drive those spikes in further. Before you ask, yes it will be extremely painful, and with all those diuretics it probably won't be long."

"Good."

Sally knew what Rachel meant, the more they suffered, the better the show. Unable to hug her, she slipped one hand behind and gave one of her daughter's buttocks a comforting squeeze.

Now a new voice, "No dawdling. Go and pull out the saltire cross and stand it up. Sally, you stand against it, facing us, and let Rachel lock your cuffs in place. Then, Rachel, take out the contents from drawer six and come and stand by our table."

"You said we might have to do things to each other." Rachel whispered, as she cuffed her mother to the cross. "I reckon the whole show could be us taking turns torturing the other."

"I think you could be right." Sally replied. She remembered last night in bed. “I wonder which drawer the knife will be in?”

Her mother’s words made Rachel run her hand over her breasts as she went to get the contents of drawer six, wondering what it was going to feel like as they were hacked off or sliced open. The strange thing was this made her hand slip down to her crotch, but a stab of pain stopped her, and, abashed that she’d thought of her own pleasure, she hastened to grab whatever was going to torture her mother next.

"Turn to face your mother. As you can see, you have a box of 20 darts. Every one that doesn't land in her, she will cut off one of your fingers or toes."

One thing Rachel did have was a good aim. Nineteen shots, every one embedded in her mother's torso. On the twentieth, though, distracted by another jolt of pain as the spiked bung dug in, the dart flew higher than she meant. Her mother, hurt and bleeding, didn't notice until too late, and the dart landed square in her right eye.

"Well done, Rachel." the same voice, now raised to be heard above Sally's scream. "But I think your poor mother should have some revenge for such a wicked final throw. Go and get a pair of snips off the wall before you pull the darts out and release her."

"Do you reckon they always meant you to cut off at least one of my fingers?" Rachel asked her mother, in a surprisingly matter-of-fact voice, as she pulled the dart out of her eye and unhooked her cuffs.

"Possibly." Sally whimpered, disoriented by the blindness and pain, but still doing her best to answer. "They probably didn't expect you to be such a good shot. Just remember, our only job here today is to make them happy."

"I know mum. Here are the snips, I'll hold out my left hand and let you choose."

“Sorry Darling.”

Another scream, and Rachel was looking through tears at her little finger lying on the floor. Her mother breathing heavily next to her.

"Okay. Time for a little audience participation." It was the man at the centre of the table again. "Which two people were on the first ballot? Great, go and get your canes. Ladies, go and get two high stools and lean over them so we can see your arses."

The canes were not light, and mother and daughter were soon screaming lustily as they clung tight to the stools for support. Their bladders were filling fast and the bent position was not helping. Strangely, the caning stopped when Sally grew hoarse.

Rachel turned to her mother and, still whimpering, mouthed, "What's happening?"

Before Sally could even try to answer the same voice spoke, "Looks like Rachel won that. Stand up to you two, it's time for the daughter to give her mother a present."

Mother and daughter staggered upright and turned to face the board, arses on fire, Sally with her damaged eye still weeping. Their pain had driven the embarrassment of exposing themselves out of their minds. Now they stood, bizarrely seductively, the act of rubbing their bottoms pushing their chests out.

"Very pretty." commented a new voice dryly. "But I think the mother would look better with more colour on her face. Reckon she should lie on the floor while that lovely, big-titted daughter craps in her mouth. I heard she's tasted her son's arse, time she tried the rest of the family"

Correctly interpreting this as an order, Sally winced as she lay down on the floor. She wasn't surprised, but the news Frank had revealed her incestuous sessions with Joel, and apparently in some detail, made her embarrassment briefly overwhelmed the pain. Looking up at the grins from the men watching as she lay on the floor, preparing to be covered in her own daughter's crap, brought an added flush of colour to her cheeks.

Rachel remembered her mother saying she'd taken pleasure from tasting Joel's arse on her lips. This time she suspected that the contents of her daughter's bowels dumped over her face wouldn't be the same. On the bright side, the laxatives had been scouring through her colon, and the need to empty it had been growing for some time.

"Try not to make a mess this time. The floor's still damp from earlier." an oddly familiar voice.

I wonder what 'punishment' we'll get for failing this time, thought Sally, but I need give it my best shot. So, steeling herself, she whispered to Rachel, "Try and aim for my mouth."

As Sally suspected, there was no chance of avoiding a mess. Even as her pretty daughter's battered arse sank towards her face, she could see her sphincter distending. Her mouth was open wide, but the putrid stream that gushed out was soon overflowing and covering her face. She fought the urge to vomit, and swallowed what she could, but it wasn't enough.

Above Sally, Rachel, even as her bowels began to uncontrollably empty, realised she wasn't about to escape her own torment. She couldn't shit without trying to piss as well, and the pressure was driving the spikes deeply into her delicate urethral walls.

Spent, she rolled off her mother, hand clutching her pussy, to laughter from the board . The sight of her mother provided some distraction though. She couldn't help being impressed.

"Wow mum. You're really swallowing it, and even I think it smells disgusting."

"Knew I wouldn't get it all." choked Sally, "Had to put on a good show though. Why were you howling?"

"Couldn't not piss." Rachel found herself smiling a little. "And I think they all knew that was going to happen."

"That is a filthy floor, girls. I told you not to get dirty, there's going to have to be some extra punishment for letting it get like that."

This time the familiar voice was speaking clearly, and both Sally and Rachel started.

"Dad!"
"Frank!"

They both looked. The one clearly, the other hazily through shit and ruptured eyeball, as the familiar figure strolled out from the end of the board table.

"But first I think you'd better kiss your mother for trying so hard."

However disgusting, Rachel knew she needed to do everything that was asked. So, stomach heaving, she forced herself to push her mouth against her mother's and even searched out the tongue with her own. Her shit smelt more rank than she could ever remember, and her mother had been swallowing it down! Despite this, she massaged lips against her mum's, taking what could be a last maternal kiss.

"That's quite enough. Time for your punishment." was it a note of relish in Frank's voice? "Lie on the table."

Sally looked at her husband, standing over them holding a pair of thin skewers. "Darling, you got to come and see us, and to take part in our torture. I'm so pleased."

"Hi dad." said Rachel, pleased he was here as well. "What will you be doing to us with those?"

"Pushing them into your stomachs." explained Frank, he knew being forewarned would make their suffering worse. "They're so thin it won't hurt that much, but then your stomach acid will start to leak."

Explanation over, he positioned the first skewer over his wife's belly, and drove it in hard with his fist. Not painful, thought Sally, screaming as a line of fire shot through her, if that's not painful what will the acid be like? She'd experienced Frank being a bit rough, but this was another level entirely. She scrabbled for Rachel's hand as Frank moved around to inflict the same on his daughter, with the same screaming result.

"I've left them in." said Frank, conversationally. "I thought I'd let you pull them out of each other after you've been cleaned up."

"Thank you, Frank." It was the voice from the centre again. "Line up, gentlemen. We do need to get these two cleaned up. Down on your knees please ladies."

Sally heaved herself off the table and dropped to her knees, a line of pain still running through her, and now a throbbing ache starting to eat at her bladder. She looked at her beautiful daughter, still with little visible damage, but showing signs of the torment she was in. They’d discussed it, but she hadn't appreciated how extreme things were going to get.

"Bearing up dear?" Sally asked, failing to sound as cheerful as she intended.

"I'm in agony mum, I think my bladder is about to burst. But isn't that why we're here?"

"You're right." Sally admitted, shedding a few half-joyful tears. "It is. I'm sorry, I won't ask you again. I'm just surprised how much torment they can put us in."

The board trooped out in a line from behind their table. One by one they stepped up, penises out, to 'wash' Sally down. Whatever they'd drunk with lunch, it had produced a uniformly vile stench to their piss. Keeping her mouth open proved hard.

Halfway through, the board stopped relieving themselves on Sally. She might look cleaner, but for her it was hardly an improvement. They didn't start immediately on Rachel, but waited while a large tub was placed in front of her.

"As Rachel only has a dirty face, we thought we'd just fill up this tub and then get her mother to wash her."

Rachel looked nervous. She knew now that every pleasant comment resulted in a new atrocity. Sally, too, looked anxious, wondering what she was about to have to do to her daughter.

The last man had finished, and the same voice spoke pleasantly again. "Just pop your daughters face in there to get it clean. Two minutes should do it. I'll time you."

Two minutes!, thought Sally, I've got to nearly drown Rachel in that vat of stinking male piss. Rachel was looking wild, drowning was her secret fear (well, nearly secret, her mother knew and she'd once told her father), but Sally hadn't forgotten why they were here and, grabbing the back of her daughter's hair, forced her down.

Rachel struggled wildly, her body fighting to escape and let her breathe, but Sally, fighting against instinct, held tight for the full two minutes, keeping her pretty daughter drowning in the tub of the stinking piss. When Sally dragged her out she was a piteous sight, coughing, spluttering and shaking.

There was a lull, the board whispering among themselves, so Rachel took the chance to have her own words with her mother.

"Do all men smell like that?" she asked.

"Rachel!" replied her mother. "How many men do you think have pissed on me? But no, I think they took something to make it that bad."

"I thought that might be it. That was utterly horrible, I'm not sure how they're going to top that. I'm glad you did it right, though, mum. I thought for a moment there you were weakening."

Sally again reached to squeeze her daughter's hand and reassure her. "I told you, however much pain, however disgusting, however horrible it is, I'll do it to you. I'm going to be pulling that skewer out in a minute, and that's apparently going to be worse than when it went in."

Rachel glanced down to look at the shiny metal sticking out below her breasts. She had almost forgotten it was there. Drowning, and an increasingly painful bladder, had driven its, now dull, ache from her mind. She squeezed her mother's hand back, "That's something to not look forward to."

Another new voice spoke up. "Sorry for the delay ladies. We've just been so impressed by Rachel's performance, we've decided to alter the program a little."

Sally felt Rachel’s hands tighten sharply in hers. She might be more than willing, but she wasn’t enjoying it. Rachel's gulp was clearly audible, was she going to be drowned again? Her mother felt little better, she'd do whatever it was, but knew it was going to be horrible.

"Back to the cross I think. This time for Rachel." He sounded positively breezy. "Make sure her cuffs are tight, then have a look in drawer ten."

Rachel hobbled to the cross, squirming, her bladder so full she could see the bulge. Her body's constant, but unsuccessful, attempts to piss weren't helping either. She managed to lean against the cross somehow and raise her hands.

Sally was a little better, her bladder a little larger. Painful, but she could still move. With Rachel attached to the cross, she pulled open drawer ten and took out the contents. Dreading what she was going to be doing with them, she returned to her daughter.

"Hold one up so Rachel can see, we wouldn't like her to miss anything. Lovely things aren't they? Almost as lovely as your daughter's big tits. Make sure you push them right through."

Rachel had been right, her mother was going to be destroying her breasts. Neither of them had foreseen quite how wicked the implements were going to be though. In her hand Sally held twenty metal skewers. Unlike those still embedded in their bellies, these had a barbed point at one end, and a big ring at the other.

Twenty thrusts, twenty howls. Rachel's breasts were a feast of metalwork, blood dripping out from every nasty little cut.

"Better not leave them in there, we don't want her inconvenienced." another cheery 'suggestion'.

"Those barbs, is this going to the end of my tits?" Rachel asked her mother, seeing the look on her face.

"Yes." Sally regretted every time she complained to her daughter about her breasts now she was about to ruin them. "By the time I've pulled all these out, there's not going to be much left."

"Get me screaming then, mum. No more stupid big tits, and it might help me forget my bladder." She tried to smile, but the pain was getting too much.

Sally set to, not quite believing how much damage she was doing. Each skewer ripped out was pulling a large chunk of her daughter's mammaries with it. The hurt from each violation of her flesh was written in Rachel's face and sounded in her voice. With the twentieth skewer out, and the contents of her breasts scattered at her feet, scraps of flesh and odd lumps were all that was left.

"I think you've forgotten the twenty-first."

Sally, who’d been surveying the ruin of her daughter's chest, looked at the little metal ring still protruding from her belly. Was the plan for her to wreck her daughter, before she herself was snuffed?

Rachel barely made a sound as the other skewer was removed. She was still whimpering from the pain in her breasts and bladder, but almost looked surprised that it hadn't hurt more.

"You'd better release Rachel so she can pop out yours as well."

"No sweat mum. You'll barely notice it."

She released just one of Rachel's hands. Not sure her daughter could stand on her own anymore.  Then stood in front of her, so she could reach to slide the steel out. There was surprisingly little pain, but she'd learned not to hope her suffering would be reduced. If it didn't hurt now, she knew it soon would.

"Oh shit mum." Rachel gasped, her movements had finally proved too much for one of her abused organs. "I can't bear it, my bladder."

Her mother looked down, past the damage she'd just inflicted, to the ugly bulge just above the blaze of hairs on her daughters pussy. Even as she looked it seemed to swell and ripple. Another second and Rachel was screaming and writhing, almost pulling the cross over in her torment. Her bladder had finally burst!

"She seems to be seizing. You'd better punch her face."

This must be what Joel meant by legendary. They were watching a pretty teenager contorted in agony, and they wanted her mother, who they'd already got to cause her so much pain, to inflict more. Impressed despite herself, Sally lifted her daughter's head and punched her face, putting all the strength she could muster behind the blow.

This story is a fantasy, set in another place, with only the slightest passing nod to our reality as it’s glimpsed on a distant horizon. If this isn’t immediately apparent to you, I strongly suggest you seek urgent psychiatric care.