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Bubbles formed on her lips.Estelle was transfixed. As if someone else was controlling her, she turned the crank faster and faster. SG was wiggling on the steel rod like a fish on a spear. She made strange gurgling noises, and her eyes had rolled back so only the whites showed.Ten rotations. Twenty. At 33, Estelle stopped, exhausted.SG's head had fallen as far forward as her collar would allow. A string of spittle hung from her lips."Oh, my God," said Estelle. "Oh, my God, I've killed her."She removed SG's collar and felt her throat. There was a pulse. It was weak, but her heart was beating.She freed SG and let her fall into her arms. Then she gently laid her on the floor."I'm so sorry, Sallie," she said tearfully. "I'm so very sorry."SG's eyes fluttered open, and her lips moved. Estelle put her ear next to SG's mouth."It was wonderful," SG whispered. "It was so fucking wonderful."SG wanted to go back to the attic the next evening, but Estelle refused. It was too dangerous.. It was a great dealfor me because there were two of them and only one of me. They neverfigured that out! It wasn't too long before our game evolved to a pointwhere I would drop my play-shorts or pants to my ankles, and turn slowlyaround 2 times so they could look to their hearts' content. And, ofcourse, they would do the same for me. The deal was, whatever theyexpected me to do, they would also have to do, and vice versa. Theyseemed to be as curious as I was. I would guess a lot of kids did thesetypes of things when they were young.On a number of occasions, they would be wearing skirts with petticoats,and that just added to the fascination. It was like a bonus when thathappened because I got to see something I shouldn't in addition to theirpanties, when they only got to see a pair of plain old white Jockeyshorts. On those occasions when they were wearing skirts, they wouldfirst lift them up to reveal their petticoats, and turn around slowlyonce. Then they would raise their.
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