She applauded generously when I finished and climbed out of the full split to my feet again. I saw her glance at the timer. She went back upstairs without a word. I sat on the weight bench and leaned forward and rested my arms on the barbell, allowing the weights to hang free of my chest. I had just caught my breath when Mrs. Reynolds came back with her sons.
"Samantha? Please, can you do that routine again?" she asked. The truth was, I had pressed myself to the limit the first time through and my breasts were aching badly, but the prospect of having a new audience motivated me and I went back to the middle of the room and braced myself to begin again.
I had not seen Jim and Bud since Mrs. Reynolds caught me with them. I had been too preoccupied with my own situation to think about where they had been, but since she had been able to round them up on short notice, I had to assume that they had just gone upstairs to another room of the house and had been warned to stay out of the family room while I was there. If that was the case, then they must have heard me screaming the day their mother put the weights on me for the first time. They must have known that their mother was torturing me, even if they did not know how she had gone about it. Now, they looked uncomfortable at being called in as witnesses
Mrs. Reynolds and the boys took seats and I started my routine over with the same moves that I had shown Mrs. Reynolds before. This time I tried to add more flairs and poses between moves, both to give my presentation more polish and to give me a couple of seconds between exercises to catch my breath. Through the first few moves, I could see Jim and Bud looking at me with keen interest. To them, this must have been very erotic. A topless cheerleader doing an exercise drill must have seemed like a fantasy come true and they watched my first few moves intently. I noticed that Mrs. Reynolds was dividing her attention between watching me and watching the boys. Apparently, she had brought them down not so much to have them see me do my routine or witness my punishment, but so that she could see their reactions.
The second time through was agony. I tried to keep smiling, but the pain had me in tears almost from the start. I was still tired from the first routine and I made several missteps that made the weights jerk. When that happened, my eyes would roll back in my head and I would grimace, which spoiled my appearance. After the first of these I looked at the boys to see if they noticed. I could see that their expressions had gone from excited to disturbed. They were finding the sight of my breasts being tortured to destruction to be less than erotic. As I continued with the routine, they started to glance away more and more and their expressions ran more to horror and disgust as my breasts became longer and more stretched from my movements. I could feel the weights start to slap against my hips, which meant the clamps had pulled my nipples almost down to my navel.
After a while the pain began to take on a different color. It was as though my brain was being overloaded with signals and started going haywire. It still hurt like hell, but I was starting to feel sexually excited as well. It was almost as if my nipples had their own connection to my clit and whenever they throbbed, my clit throbbed as well. I felt my pussy getting wet and I knew my juice was leaking out onto my panties. I wasn't wearing the thick panties that went with the uniform because we saved those for the games. I had on a pair of my regular nylon bikinis and if they got wet they would stick to me like a second skin. I decided not to worry about it. My fate was pretty much sealed, and this seemed trivial. I wondered if I should even bother to keep my skirt and panties on. Surely my being completely naked would suit Mrs. Reynolds' purpose better, anyway? I decided that it was not a good idea for me to be stuffing the suggestion box with ideas on how to more effectively degrade and abuse me.
All this distraction was helping me work through the intense pain in my breasts, but did not seem to be dampening the fire that was growing my pussy. My workout seemed to be activating the hormones that were by now saturating my body. My judgment was affected as well. I began to get bolder in my routine. I allowed the weights to swing more and when they clanked together, I felt the sharp vibrations shoot through my breasts and into my clit.
I started pushing myself to the edge of what I could stand, regardless of the damage I was doing to myself. I managed not to do any jumps, but I found other ways to show off. I twirled around so the weights would fly out away from my body and lift my breasts into the air. I bent over forward and let them swing around in big circles. I did a back-bend where I leaned back so far that the weights were pulled around my sides and then over my shoulders to hang behind me. That went so well that I put my hands down and turned the back-bend into a handstand and then swung my legs over into a toe-touch. When I stood up, I was really proud of myself and I decided to do a front walkover into a split for a dismount. I put my palms back on the floor and leaned into a handstand and kicked my feet over and down, pulling one leg behind me to land in a full split. I finished with the weights and clamps hanging down behind me, and my breasts stretched up over my shoulders. They were stretched out so much that I could not even see my nipples. I threw my arms up in a V and flashed a big smile. I had never been so proud of a routine. The pain in my breasts seemed far away.