Her beauty was uncanny, almost cloying in a way, like halvah bars. Her face was small and oval and she had big black eyes in sunken orbits. Her body was so thin sometimes I thought she would break when I laid over her. She had a fine belly so concave one could count her ribs, and her breasts were the smallest I had ever found on a grown woman, almost nonexistent. Only in certain poses, from the side, arms crooked at the elbow and pressing her rib cage, did they show the slightest definition. The nipples were finely pointed and colored like pink quartz.

One of the things that first arrested my attention was her wrists, which were bruised. Later I learned she tied herself in rope, and she injected her heroin there (a habit she controlled quite well).

Selma wore her pubis bare, going weekly to the beauty salon for her manicure, shaving, and coif. After we married she had a hole bored through her clitoris and a steel ring fitted to it. We pierced her tongue and sometimes I would chain her tongue to clit as tightly as she could bend, and use her ass.

Her ass, o dear God, her ass. To this day I weep at my loss. Despite her pernicious anorexia, a calamity in which she relished, never, not to the very end, did her bottom lose its shapeliness and girlish amplitude. So many hours of whipping and spanking, so many insertions with monstrous pieces of plastic, but never under these assaults did her ass wither away. I think it was the most sensitive part of her body.

When our daughter Taylor turned four, I began to teach the girl about sex, presenting her my penis and guiding her along so she soon enough became gifted at erecting it and drawing it to ejaculation. I thought nothing of it, really, simply taking it as a parental obligation or right, I suppose. However one night Selma walked in our me in Taylor's room where the girl was avidly sucking the member that had made her, and Selma shrieked. I was surprised at the interruption and Taylor was mortified, almost biting me.

That night I tied Selma to the bed, face down, and whipped her bottom with a riding crop. She responded as always to my lovemaking, but I knew she was upset about her discovery, and we talked before we slept.

She said she did not approve of incest.

I sat up.

"You do not approve?" I repeated in surprise. "Approve, Selma? What's to approve? I'm the girl's father, am I not?"

"Yes, yes, but she's only five, Sebastian! And childhood should be innocent. And...well, the Bible says....."

"The Bible?" I almost bellowed. "What the fuck does the Bible have to do with anything? It's my cock that matters!"

Selma got up, took a cigarette, smoked it half down, then got out her spoon and cooked some heroin, and soon enough she felt better.

For awhile things with Taylor went on as before, Selma diligently ignoring things, not even looking for example when Taylor would sit naked on my lap whilst my erection poked between her chubby thighs and she manipulated me. Taylor had no concept of right and wrong, she was simply what she liked. She always liked to see me cum.

On weekends I puttered about in the barn building a torture box for Selma and when it was finally complete I took her, along with Taylor, and showed it to her. Selma was shaking with need and I ordered her to strip. Taylor looked indifferently her mothers flat chest, hairless pubis, pencil legs. Taylor, now six, weighed almost seventy pounds, her mother barely 95.

I took the steel chains and attached them to Selma's tongue, clitoris and nipples. Taylor was fascinated. "Are you going to hang her up Daddy?" I nodded. "Yep, then I'm going to fuck her ass.".....(cont)