Thanks for your votes, ratings, and email. Enjoy the story.D=================================================================To the readers: One more thing you should know before you read this chapter is that it was written by none other than punana herself. The woman who inspired the stories has been masturbating to them quite regularly while going about her normal, everyday life. I hope that you think about that while reading these stories and that it turns you on, knowing she's really out there, playing with herself while she reads about her alter-ego, punana.To punana: I hope that my exposing you to the world like this makes you feel even more naked and exposed, more completely a slave to your obsessions, more completely our toy, more thoroughly humiliated, more completely owned by my words. To all: EnjoyD=================================================================When punana regained consciousness, it was strapped to a frame bent at the hips; its legs upright but spread. 'Where am I?' is such a cliche, but sometimes it fit the situation.Let's review. I was in bed, but it wasn't my bed. It didn't feel right. Besides, the ceiling was green. Puke green. Who would paint their ceiling puke green? It was hard to concentrate.My shoulder itched.I decided that was more important than where I was. I lifted my hand. It felt funny and I couldn't wiggle my fingers. I reached up to scratch my shoulder... "Oh, God!" I moaned as pain shot through me."Tony are you okay?" The voice of an angel. Tami's voice."Not sure. What year is it?" What year?" Are you my wife?" Tony, we're fourteen." There are states where that is legal." He's okay," said another voice. I decided that it was my maternal unit, code-named Mom.I decided to try opening my eyes again.I opened them just a little, and they still burned. I closed them and blinked hard, trying to liquefy them. No, not liquify; moisten. Why was it so hard to think?I opened my eyes again. They still stinged. Stanged. Stang..
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