Chapter 1

25 years ago, 14, 15, and 16 year-old sisters, J, L, and E shared a bedroom. At night they made up wild sex stories that they whispered to one another as they masturbated, or played with each other. The stories were often about their 18, 17 and 16 year-old brothers, H, P, and G.

This is my recollection of one of those stories.

On Monday morning I woke, got out of bed, and took a shower. It was a very special day, so I made sure that I took a little bit of time for myself and played with myself in the pulsating showerhead. I played with my erect clitoris as the warm water ran over me, loving all the feelings that it gave me. Then, once I had come, I washed myself off. I toweled and walked naked into the kitchen where my three brothers were having breakfast.

“Ready?” H asked.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” I said.

“Meaning?” asked G.

“Yes.” I said.

We had been playing this game for a while and it never failed to make my brothers rock hard and good for at least two nuttings. Today it was going to become my new reality. I hopped up on the kitchen counter.

“Okay,” P said, “enough of the chit chat.” He took a black rubber, and brown leather gag. Shaped like a hollow penis, he had “borrowed” it from our parent’s closet. Placing it in my mouth, it made me wet to think I was following in her footsteps. H pulled my long red hair back to get it out of the way of the buckle as P fastened it.

“If you change your mind, just say ‘327 Small Block,’” he joked.

G had won the “first pain-fuck” drawing last night when we planned everything out over shots of purloined Jameson. But we prudently decided to wait ‘till we were stone-sober in the morning to proceed. He got to perform the first step of my female circumcision, desensitizing my clitoris. Having cut off the head of one of grandma’s old long steel hat pins in a pair of pliers, he was heating it in the gas stove-top’s flame.

When the pin was white hot, he smiled and walked towards me. I made an unintelligible noise through the hollow tube that reached into the entrance of my throat but did not try to get away as H and P each took hold of one of my legs.

“Don’t worry,” G said, “once I’m done, you won’t feel a thing ... Literally ... Except pain...”

He took his left hand and put it on my mound and spread my cunt open. With his right hand held the flame heated pin so close to me that I felt its heat. G looked into my un-mutilated cunt for the last time to find one of the black lines from the Sharpie pen they used last night after poking around in my hole. All three of them looking for the exact location of my two Bartholin’s glands so that they might be executed this morning. My brother was going to burn them out and make my dirty cunt “dry for life.”

I did not struggle but I was surprised. I jerked hard and cried out in pain into the gag when G very slowly pushed the white-hot pin into my lubricant producing gland, audibly searing it, and producing a unique odor as both flesh and slime cooked.

He didn’t just leave it in one place. As I screamed into the penis gag, he moved the tip around in a circle to cause as much damage to the gland as he could before the needle cooled down. Then he went back to the stove to re-heat it as H started to finger my aching cunt.

“Don’t let her come!” G admonished his older brother. “L-cunt’s days of having her own orgasms are over. From now on all that hole you’re diddling will feel ‘ll be cocks, fists, and pain.

“You forgot cola bottles,” P said as he viciously pinched my nipples pulling my mind away from the searing pain between my legs, “and baseball bats.”

“Wine bottles and softball bats,” H said, one-upping P.

When he had the needle white-hot again, G returned to my spread legs. Again, my brothers H and P held me tight as G searched, found his mark, and pushed the white-hot pin into my other slime sack, killing it.

I spasmed, and screamed into the penis gag in my throat while thinking that if done properly this should make entry into my cunt-- by whatever my brothers chose to fuck me with-- far more painful for me, and far more fun for them.

As H roughly finger-fucked me and P twisted my nipples, G returned to the stove to heat the hair pin once again.

“You know where this one is going ... Don’t you L-cunt?” he said

I nodded. I knew, we had discussed it last night. And I was eagerly awaiting– no, I was gleefully anticipating the pain and damage– the torture and loss that I would soon feel when G returned with that white hot hat pin.

He had a cork bottle stopper in his left hand. The pliers and white-hot pin were in his right hand.

I spread my legs and once again P and H held me tight. G placed the cork against the right side of my clitoral head. He looked at me smiled. I smiled back, and in one drawn out but smooth motion G pushed that pin that grandma used to secure her hats to her hair slowly through the tip of her granddaughter’s aching clitoris and into the cork. The heat destroying my clitoris’ nerve receptors and fibers, searing and sealing its blood vessels, causing me to scream again and again into the gag filling my mouth.