7 year old Cassie had just plonked herself on the back of her mother, which steamed after a day on the sun drenched beach. Moulding herself to this warm cradle, she giggled happily, ‘And you’re warm.’

Dozing the two beauties observed Sylvie, Cassie’s 11 year old sister, as she jumped shrieking into the crushing waves. Her hips moving to the rhythm of the ocean Cassie rubbed her naked crotch on her mother’s lower spine.

’What are you doing, you little freak.’

Squirming, she admits laughing, ‘Rubbing myself.’

‘Stop it now, or you’re gone end up like Sylvie.’

‘It’s her fault anyway. She keeps on touching me, because she’s not allowed to touch herself anymore. And then she stops and I’m all wiggly inside and not even the cold water helps.’

Cassie jumped up petulantly. Her mother grabbed her leg.

‘Show me.’

Knowing better then to resist, Cassie turned around, opened her petals and looked down at her mother, gnawing worryingly on her lower lip.

‘Oh poor baby, it’s all swollen and your happy button is big as a pea. No wonder you’re horny.’

Sylvie came running.

‘Mommy, I need the key, I need to pee.’

‘Look here, young lady, what you’ve done to your sister, she’s all excited and you didn’t finish her’.

Ignoring her mother, jumping from one leg to the other, Sylvie whines, ‘I really need to pee.’

‘Ok missy, here’s the deal: I’m not gonna give you the key, I’m gonna open the harness for you and you’re going to pee here in front of me, so that I can see your hands. Spending another day at the doctor’s office during the holidays, trying to sort out bladder infections and inflamed pussy is not in the cards, you hear me.’

‘But everyone will see …’

‘There’s no one there, only this couple down there at the beginning of the dunes. Otherwise I wouldn’t allow you to show your little boobs and Cassie running around naked.’

‘You haven’t got a bra either’, interfered Cassie wisely.

‘Well that’s my point, so get rid of your bikini bottom: Ok here we go. Well I can smell your pussy even through the harness ... and it’s soaked.’

‘I told you, it’s rubbing me and not really helping …’

‘Well, it better be. You don’t want to end up like me.’

Both Cassie and Sylvie looked worried at that prospect.

‘Are you gonna pee now, or what?’

‘Here?’

‘Why not? We’re just gonna throw some sand over it. And while you’re at it, you can finish your sister.’

Crouching, ready to pee Sylvie looked up astonished to face Cassie’s swollen clit, which she presented eagerly to Silvie’s mouth.

‘What …in front of you? She always tastes cheesy …’

Not allowing her sister to finish, Cassie had pressed herself in Sylvie’s face, her mother rubbing with a sigh over her own erect nipples, standing like little tin soldiers from her tan line free breasts.

‘Wouldn’t be the first time I see you two playing around and you didn’t complain about ‘cheesy’ then either.’

Cassie had started making mewling sounds, while Sylvie’s pee splashed over both their feet. Pressing her face ever deeper into Cassie’s crotch, Sylvie knotted Cassie’s backside, her own hips moving in sympathy. Cassie’s shriek turned into laughter as her knees gave out and they both tumbled over into the wet sand, Sylvie’s mouth never leaving Cassie’s pussy.

‘Owow, help, she’s trying to bite my clit off …’

‘Sylvie, Sylvie, …’

Her mother had jumped up, but Sylvie had already let go, her lips swollen, face shiny with girl cum, eyes sparkling full of mischief between fringes of her blond hair flying in the ocean breeze. A sight of utter beauty, making her heart meld. Looking at her two daughters caked in pee wet sand, she couldn’t prevent recollecting similar games she had played with her sister, a tingle going down her spine.

‘Off you go, you two dirty little piglets. Wash yourself and take the belt with you …’

Cassie was stretching lasciviously, before jumping up and running towards the ocean.

‘Sylvie’s chastity belt, Sylvie’s chastity belt …’, she mocked her sister, who gave chase, not worried anymore that she was running naked on a public beach, swinging a leather harness over her head like an ancient weapon.

Christine was proud of Sylvie, when she came back from the sea water tripping from the little pink hard nipples, which topped her budding breasts. She had seen that Sylvie hadn’t touched herself. Giving Cassie pleasure was enough. It stilled the fire. She knew the feeling. Sylvie presented her the washed harness and Christine helped her into it, brushing over Sylvie’s clit and the small tuft of hair in the process, while looking into her eyes. A shy smile flicked over Sylvie’s face.

‘You were good’.

Sylvie’s smile broadened, while her mother closed the lock.

‘Does it smell like when you were wearing it?’

She had seen her mother smelling the harness, while Sylvie was licking her sister. Slightly embarrassed Christine whispered back, ‘Sweeter.’

Cassie came running, shaking from the cold water, wrapping herself in a towel. Sylvie turned back to her mother, looking at her mother’s crotch.

‘But it didn’t help you, did it?’

‘No. In the end I wasn’t strong enough and they took it away.’

Sadness shone through her smiling eyes. Cassie had come closer, shivering still from the sea’s cold, with all the inquisitive eagerness of a seven year old.

‘Can we see it?’

‘Oh, you’ve seen me naked …’

‘Yeah, but not close …’

Looking along the deserted beach, Christine stood up and lowered her bikini bottoms to her knees.

‘It’s all hairy, I can’t see anything.’

Cassie took command as only a seven year old girl can. Lowering her wet towel to the sand, she ordered her mother to sit on it, took her mother’s briefs off in one swinging movement and opened Christine’s legs. There it was. Opening between the hair, lay a wet pink slit, unobstructed by inner lips, the peehole and her broken hymen, now stretched by two births, clearly visible. And on top: one continuous line of skin between her outer lips, deprived of pleasure, clean, clitless. The two girls sitting on their haunches looked open mouthed at their mother’s spread cunt.

‘God, its beautiful’, whispered Sylvie.

Cassie, always the adventurous, leaned forward.

’Can I touch?’

Not waiting for an answer, her finger moved along the empty cleft, her mother slightly shaking.

‘Does it hurt?’

‘No, it just tickles.’

Sylvie’s face showed adoration and surprise in equal measure.

‘So you still feel something?’

‘Yeah, it feels good like touching my lips, but not more. It’s not going to give me an orgasm.’

‘And if I touch here?’

Cassie had started to brush over her mother’s peehole on her way to entering her pussy, which had started to puff up and to leak clear fluid.

With a shudder Christine closed her legs, pushing Cassie away.

‘Show is over.’

‘No, no … I want to see if you still can have fun.’

Cassie was in experimenting mode, a scientist on a mission. Sylvie just sat there mesmerized, her breathing shallow, her cheeks blushed pink.

‘Can you tell us, how it happened.’

‘Yes, please, mommy …’

‘Ok girls, perhaps after dinner.’

Christine’s pussy pulsed; it always does, when thinking about that day.

Dinner was a fast affair, easily prepared while the girls washed salt and sand form their lithe bodies, splashing water all over the bathroom of their small beach front chalet. Sylvie was so eager to hear her Mom’s story, she didn’t even complain about having to wear the harness in the shower. Munching her salad, her hand clutching a piece of pizza, Cassie couldn’t wait any longer.

‘How old were you, when it was done?’

Christine wasn’t sure anymore, that telling her story was a good idea.

‘Well, it’s not such a nice story, and Sylvie knows it anyway.’

‘You know?’

Cassie’s outcry was an indictment of sisterly treason.

‘No. I only know that she was fourteen and that, if the belt is not helping, it might happen to me as well.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me? You never tell me things …’

Christine intervened to stop the outbreak of the usual sisterly civil war.

‘Ok, ok, first eating, then washing the dishes, then story.’

Lying on the bed under the quilt with the two girls straddling her legs, Christine tried to recollect this fateful period of her life. But first …

‘Get rid of this wet thing, it gives me the chills. Here’s the key. And put it out to dry.’

Taking it off and running to the veranda happened as fast as jumping back into the bed, the t-shirt Sylvie’s only cover, her pussy glowing in the evening sun, chaffed red by leather, salt and excitement. Her pleading look said it all: no more delays.

‘Agnes and I were very close to each other. Like you two we sometimes fooled around …well, we actually fooled around a lot. And then I also played with myself … a lot. Of course it ended all up in a bladder infection like with you, Sylvie. My grandmother was this stern woman, who had some medical training, she helped with deliveries, circumcisions, people came to her with small ailments and she always knew the right ointment, the right advise. So my mother brought me to her. She reacted very agitated, told my mother that she should have known better, that this could lead to infertility, that it should have been done long time ago. I didn’t know what she was talking about. Then Grandpa showed up, whom I loved dearly, and said that no one is going to hurt his little princess.’

‘How old were you?’

Cassie unashamedly rubbed herself on Christine’s knee, her usual bed time story behaviour.

‘About Sylvie’s age. Yes, I remember now that it was just some days after we celebrated Agnes’ ninth birthday because one of her gifts was the puppet I always wanted. I was furious and jealous and refused to play with my sister for several days and instead frigged myself till I triggered that bladder infection.’

‘And then they cut you?’

‘No dummy. Mommy said, Grandpa saved her.’

‘How?’

‘Grandpa was always very good with his hands, so he built these harnesses for me.’

‘There were several?’

‘Yes, I grew and I used them up a lot. As Grandma insisted that I wear them always and only Ma had the key, I basically had to pee into them and that dissolved the leather after some time.’

‘Ui, that must have smelled ...’

‘… and itched.’

‘Yes to both. That’s why I found this little creek behind the school, where, covered by bushes, I lifted my skirt, sat in the running water and peed straight into the stream. Even in winter, when I thought my toes would freeze off, that always gave me quite a thrill.’

‘But there isn’t a creek next to my school.’

‘And you only have one harness.

Cassie always liked to add to bad news.

‘First of all I still have somewhere a bigger one and secondly if Sylvie behaves now over the summer, it might be enough, if she wears the harness only at home, where she is less distracted and more prone to temptation.’

‘How did you poop?’

One always could count on Cassie’s practical sense.

‘Ma forced me every morning to do my thing, while she stood next to me to prevent me doing something else.’

‘Whew, disgusting.’

‘After some time I found out that putting water up my bum hole really helped to be able to poop every morning and having found this enema pump at my Grandma’s, it was easier to do that and there were no accidents anymore.’

‘Enema, what’s that?’

‘Putting water up your bum hole, don’t you ever listen? But why … why in the end didn’t it help, the harness?’

That was it, the question which burned in Sylvie’s heart, her own future in the balance, a feeling of dread only matched by the knot in Christine’s stomach as the recollections tumbled from her mouth.

‘Grandpa died and I was devastated. I had loved him so much. It was as if I wanted it to happen, as if I wanted to be punished for his death. By that time the games Agnes and I played had become really wild. So this one day, after I had given her three orgasms in a row, we decided to bust her cherry … well, it was mostly me who decided. So I took a cucumber and pushed it into her with all my might. She shrieked, there was blood and then Ma came running, screamed at me and hauled me off to Grandma’s.’

‘What means “bust her cherry”?’

‘Gee, can you .. loosing her virginity.’

Cassie still looked dumbfounded.

‘The little skin, which protects your hole. You saw it, when you tried to put the pencil in me. And can you stop now, interrupting Mom all the time, asking stupid questions …’

Christine looked miles away, her daughters’ banter not even registering.

‘Mommy, Mommy …’

Sylvie had sat up, her legs clamping Christine’s thigh with a deadly grip, urgency and anticipation radiating from her pretty face.

‘Agh girls, it’s such a gruesome story …’

‘I like gruesome stories.’

Cassie had always had a knack for the horrific parts of any fairy tale.

‘You won’t be able to sleep tonight.’

‘But Mommy I need to know, please.’

‘Why?’

Sylvie’s desperate plea had startled her.

‘I need do know if I can take it.’

Christine’s face crunched up, tears shooting into her eyes. She pressed Sylvie to her chest.

‘Oh baby I’m so sorry, I so hope that it will never come to that.’

Forcing herself to calm down, she looked into her daughters’ eager faces.

‘Ok girls, I continue, but I might start crying.’

‘That’s ok, Mommy, we’ll just cry with you.’

Cassie’s pragmatic approach never failed to make her smile.

‘When we arrived, Grandma took off the harness with a disgusted look. It was full of my juice due to the games Agnes and I had played, mingled with some pee as fear had pierced my control on the way to my undoing.’

‘By that time I knew, what was in store for me. Once when I visited Grandma I had heard muffled screams coming from her office. Not allowed to enter that room I dashed around the house to peek through the windows. What I saw turned my stomach. Theresa, a girl I knew from school, was bound to this special chair, gag in her mouth, her eyes full of terror, while my grandmother showed a bloody piece of flesh to Theresa’s mother. As Grandma moved to the side, I could see Theresa’s destroyed pussy, blood streaking her thighs. Grandma had cut Theresa’s clit and lips. Now I knew what Grandma’s real profession was: a female circumciser. I stifled a scream and ran and didn’t stop running till I was in the middle of the woods, leaning against a tree, lost, sobbing, excited beyond my comprehension.’

‘And now I was standing there awaiting my turn, my mother clutching my trembling shoulders, Agnes next to me, sullen, knowing what would happen, as I had told her. “Come, hop into the chair, Sylvie”. Grandma’s fake sweet voice steeled my determination. I knew now, I wanted this, but I wanted it my way. To the darkening look of my witch grandmother I replied; “No. I want to sit on this table … and I want Ma to hold me.” Shedding the rest of my clothes I sat on the table, while my mother took gingerly position behind me, reclining my head to her shoulder, folding her arms around mine across my chest, pulling apart my legs with hers, my pussy lips opening, juice visible in its folds. “So we got a brave one in the family”, Grandma’s eyes twinkled. “Listen girl, you have to hold still, very still. I want to give you the most beautiful pussy in the world.” Suddenly I trusted her. If anyone, she would be able to do that, to make me beautiful. “I want Agnes to cut me. I hurt her, so she has the right to hurt me.” I couldn’t believe that I just had said that. Grandma smiled. She never smiled, and since Grandfather’s death she smiled less than never. “Agnes, are you up to that? Do you want to help me make Sylvie beautiful?” Agnes’ shocked look turned into excitement as she whispered “Yes.” And then a toothy grin spread her face, oh how I love her grin, it’s sun and moon rising up into the sky together.’

Both girls were now practically lying on top of Christine, open mouthed, riveted to her lips. Cassie’s little panty covered snatch had moulded itself wetly to Christine’s knee, while Sylvie’s pussy left snail trails on Christine’s thigh. Sylvie’s knee kept rubbing against Christine’s empty cleft, hidden by a panty, which had given up the fight to prevent Christine’s juice to overflow into the mattress.

‘Grandma had shown Agnes how to shave me and she went at it with celebratory glee. Every time the razor touched my clit a jolt shot through my spine into my brain and back down to my toes, letting me shudder and Agnes giggle. It was huge now, peeking out from its hood, my lips swollen. Like it wanted to take one last bow, having been denied any playtime over the last couple of years. Grandma came back with a clamp in her hand, which I had seen being used for suturing wounds. “Great work, Agnes, just some hairs on her asshole.’ Agnes beamed with pride. When she touched me there, I couldn’t stifle a groan, bending my head back and nearly closing my legs. It had become so sensitive, since using the enemas. Grandma was worried. “Are you sure, you can hold still?” “Sorry, but I feel like I’ll explode any minute now.” “Oh, explode you will. I will make sure of that, just not yet.” Her promise of one last orgasm calmed me down as a dull ache spread up from my crotch. Grandma had attached the clamp. Two thin metal bands framed my inner lips and clit, which had grown to obscene proportions. My breathing became erratic as my mother whispered into my ear, “It hurts first, but then it goes numb.” I finally understood. She had gone through the same ordeal. It was a family ritual. A feeling of tradition, of inevitability, of being part of something bigger came over me.’

‘My grandmother approached with a piece of rolled up cloth. I shook my head. “It’s for your own good, sweetie, we don’t want you to chip your pretty teeth or bite your tongue.’ Ma intervened. “Give her the teeth guard. No patients are here today so she can scream as much as she wants.” Mumbling Grandma rummaged in her drawers, before plunging the foul tasting plastic covers into my mouth. “Everyone happy now?” Agnes nodded, standing there in surgical gloves, a white coat, scalpel in her right hand, a look of apprehension and determination on her face, every inch the nurse she latter became. “Ok Agnes, let’s first start with the left lip up till here, along the edge of the clamp. Don’t you worry, it’s like cutting chicken skin.” It burned and then it burned more and then it really burned. “Oh God, I hope I can take that.” “Breath, baby, breath the pain away.” It was as if Ma had heard my silent prayer. A whimpering sob escaped my lips, when Agnes reached the top of my pussy, nearly touching the tip of my clit, my left lip hanging onto my clit hood by just a slither of flesh. Agnes searched my crying eyes, sorrow in her own. “Concentrate on the cutting. Let’s do the right lip now.” I had the impression it took ages, a fire connecting my asshole to my clit, the urge to let it all go, to pee, to scream, to shout incredibly strong. “Sylvie, look into my eyes, don’t zone out, now comes the most important part.” Grandma had taken my tear streaked face into her hands, the warmth of her look helping me focus my bleary eyes. “Here we go.” Taking my swollen clit, hood and all between her right-hand fingers, grabbing Agnes’ shaking hand with her left and leading the gleaming steel to the top of my pussy, she looked into my eyes. “Do you want this? Do you want to give your clit? Do you want to become a real woman?” Even the lisp inducing teeth guard couldn’t prevent me from shouting, “Yes”.

The two girls stroked their Mom’s hair, her arms, her breasts, their own faces wet with sympathy as sobs wracked Christine.

‘You don’t have to continue, if it’s too hard, Mommy.'

Cassie hiccupped between her own sobs. Sylvie’s cry came from the bottom of her soul.

‘No …please, what happened?’

Christine drew a cleansing breath wiping her face with the back of her hands. Sighing she looked at her two angels.

‘I had my last and best orgasm.’

Sylvie couldn’t stand the pause, fidgeting, finally whispering, ‘How was it?’

‘I don’t know, how they did it, but Grandma and Agnes swiped the blade through all that skin in one swift stroke. And I screamed, I screamed and howled like a banshee. And it was everything. A light exploded in my brain. My innards were drawn inward to one fiery point in the middle of my body. My pussy opened up like a flower, pee, pussy juice going everywhere and then snapping shut like a clam, getting tight and still tighter. My anus contracted as if it had a life on its own. And then the pain, this red, hot all consuming pain radiating from the top of my pussy through the deepest recesses of my asshole to the soles of my feet and the crown of my head. Giving me shivers, glowing and freezing at the same time. How I kept my legs apart, I can’t remember, but probably it was Ma, who did all the work, as her legs were black and blue the next day. Grandma made thirty stitches. That’s why it’s so smooth. As promised she made me the most beautiful pussy. Even Agnes was allowed to do one stitch. She told me later that my pussy kept pulsating for nearly ten minutes. I cried unto the neck of my mother, while her own tears mingled with my sweaty hair. I never felt closer to her than in these moments.’