Do you understand?”Rebecca nodded.“Say ‘yes sir’, you cunt.”“Yes sir,” Rebecca whispered.“Louder!” he slapped her again.“Yes sir!�...� she said weakly.“LOUDER SLUT!!” he bellowed, slapping her harder.“YES SIR! YES SIR! YES SIR!” she screamed, choking back tears.“That’s better.”“Daddy…” she mumbled, “what if I get pregnant?”Hank chuckled. “That’s the point.” He grinned.Rebecca fainted.The next morning she woke up to find herself handcuffed to her bed. She looked down to see her sheets were covered. Breasts are ludicrous,But lovely,Much like a pair of pantiesRolled down to the knees,No longer clothing,But ornament--When they do not give suckTo infants' needs,Breasts are panties, too,Rolled down to the knees.God or nature,Take your pick,Must have thoughtA million years or soBefore decidingWhere to placeThe buttocksSo as to transformTorso into thighs,Thighs into backAnd belly;We can only wonder howMany millennia HeOr it spent in fixingThe location of women'sBouncing breasts.There is. More

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