Chapter 5
Deep Throat Training

At the mansion on the other end of town, Bianca was at the table in the sitting room of the quarters she shared with her parents, her math homework before her -- but her mind had slipped it's leash for a moment, and was drifting... Suddenly, the intercom activated: "Bianca, are you done with your homework? The Wench has been waiting for some time, and she has things to do..."

"Uhhh, no sir -- but I'm close!" Who was that? Not Mister Armand or Mister Jason...

"How close?"

Bianca quickly surveyed the five problems she had remaining. "Ummm, ten minutes?"

"All right, child. Meet us in fifteen minutes on the back steps with an empty bucket, and one with soapy water, a sponge, and some towels. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," Bianca replied dutifully.

"I'll have Consuelo gather things in the kitchen." The intercom clicked off.

Bianca went furiously to work, immediately. Even if Consuelo helped, she wouldn't have much time... Six minutes later, she passed her mother on her way out the door. "Got to go help the Wench!" she cried, dashing past a surprised Inez. Inez turned to follow, and ended up supervising the preparations, then followed her daughter outside, wondering what was up; the Wench's job description didn't REALLY include mops and buckets -- after all, she was a puta -- a whore -- not the maid!

Things began to clear on the back steps. In the first place, the owner of the voice on the intercom was revealed; Mister Charles stood there, smiling gently as Bianca sloshed up. The Wench knelt on the board floor, regarding Bianca serenely. "Good evening Bianca. How was school?" Her eyes flicked to Inez and she gave a short nod of greeting that Inez returned. Inez hung back, parking herself against the wall just outside the door.

Also present were the four 'yard boys': Boris, the Gardener (now, since Charles' elevation to Overseer, the Groundskeeper), his two assistants Pete and Phillippe, and Ed the Carpenter. Charles looked up and frowned, "Is Jorge around?"

"No, Sir." Phillippe was the backup chauffer and shotgun for low-security jobs; thus he knew he was on call. "He's out with Velma, doing a grocery run." Velma was the Cook.

"We're not taking deliveries?" Charles asked, surprised.

Phillippe shrugged. "Velma likes to see her ingredients."

Charles nodded; it was a good answer. "All right, then we'll get on with it. The Wench, here, lost control of her throat momentarily yesterday, and vomited up Mr. Wilson's semen. All in all, she did a fine job; she just had this unfortunate mishap, after. I've invited the four of you here to assist with a little remedial training. The Wench will give each of you a blowjob; your job is to shoot down her throat, and hers is to hold it down."

Boris frowned and rubbed his thick lips, nodding toward Bianca and Inez. "What about them?"

"Bianca is here to clean up any accidents the Wench has; it seems her father made himself unavailable, so Mr. Wilson volunteered her to take up the slack." Several of the yard boys exchanged a glance; that Jason wanted Raoul's head was generally known, but if he'd stepped in it with Mr. Wilson, himself... Charles continued, unperturbed, "Inez is here... Why ARE you here, Inez?"

It was tantamount to a dismissal, but Inez held her ground. "I needed to be sure Bianca could fill in properly."

Charles eyed Inez for a moment, then assured her, "Bianca's duties will be purely janitorial." Inez nodded warily, and backed out of the area. Charles turned his attention to the yard boys. "Anyone need to back out? Mr. Wilson uses the Wench regularly, as do I, now. Even Jason finds a periodic use for her. If anyone isn't absolutely certain that he's clean, he should bow out -- If you give Mr. Wilson something, I guarantee you that getting fired will be the least of what happens to you..."

Pete raised his hand. Pete was young -- early twenties -- tall, tanned, dark wavy hair... "I've got a girlfriend..."

Charles raised an eyebrow. "She sleeps around?"

Pete frowned. "She better not..."

Phillippe chuckled. "Can I get her number?"

Charles waved them to silence before Pete could get angry. "If you're not SURE, or if you want to be true to your girl, you're excused. If you want tested, come see me and I'll arrange it, no questions and no stigma attached. Sex happens in this household; you all know that. We want everyone to be safe." Charles eyed Pete. "I can get her tested, too, if you like."

Pete eyed Phillippe. "She's been good since we've been together, but she likes her dick. Of course, you have to HAVE one..."

Against a background of grunted laughter from the others, Charles became businesslike. "Sounds like an invitation to get started. Phillippe?"

Phillippe stepped forward, but hesitated when Boris grumbled, "Young girls..."

"Young girls have to learn about sex, too, Boris," Charles returned, evenly. "Mr. Wilson thinks Bianca is up to watching the Wench at work." He turned to Bianca, "What do YOU think?"

"I'll be okay." Bianca was perversely proud that Mister Armand felt she was old enough to handle this; she wasn't going anywhere. "I'll be just watching, mostly. You'll be having sex with the Wench, not me..."

"Whassamatter? Bianca turn ya off?" Ed teased. "Shit, I'd like to see MORE of her..." He ogled Bianca's sweetly rounded figure.

Charles cut it off. "Well, you won't, unless you can convince her to offer it up freely -- and even then, you'd better wait several years! If Mr. Wilson finds out you've messed with her, he'll have your ass! This is an exceptional situation; Bianca is not an employee here and is therefore sacrosanct..."

"...Like her mama?" Phillippe quipped, eyes dancing. Did Bianca know?

Bianca looked almost amused. "If Mama keeps Mister Jason off YOU, you should be grateful!" Turning to Ed, she announced, mock-politely, "I'll just watch, thank you."

"Let's get on with it," Charles admonished. "Pete, you sitting this one out?"

"I... dunno." Both men were watching Phillippe open his belt and unzip his pants, as did the Wench, with even more interest.

"Wench," Charles directed, "no hands. Keep 'em on your thighs, or put 'em behind you if the temptation gets to be too much. Understand?"

"Yes, Sir." The Wench looked up from where Phillippe was beginning to lower his trousers, then back in time to get her first glimpse of the training instrument.

Phillippe's cock was a fairly average: uncut, a bit over six inches, and moderately thick. He stepped up close, "Let's see what you've got..."

Wench leaned forward, opened her lips and pulled in the tip. Phillippe shuffled forward to get comfortable as more and more of his meat disappeared between her lips.

"All right," Charles directed as the two settled in. "Phillippe, she's a vessel. If what she does on her own isn't good enough, feel free to direct her. The purpose of the exercise is to get her to take it deep and swallow your cum. But I think you'll agree that there's no need to get too rough."

Phillippe's "Guess not," was strained; as far as HE was concerned the Wench was doing a FINE job! This had to be the best he'd ever had, and the Wench was beautiful, to boot! He was gonna want some of this pussy... Maybe some ass! At this point, already, the combination of reality and his imagination had Phillippe at a point where orgasm was imminent; it had been a while since he'd had anything decent, being a bachelor -- not long, a few days, but long enough to be hair-trigger. He glanced up at Charles, "Can I hold her off a bit?"

Charles rubbed his jaw while he thought about it. "Purpose of the exercise is to give her practice swallowing cum. Why don't you just let go and plan on seconds?" Eyebrows went up all around the group, and Phillippe's imagination went wild, putting an end to the issue. Instinctively, he palmed the back of the Wench's head and drove himself deep, releasing a flood of ejaculate right at the opening of her throat.

Up until this moment, the Wench had been more or less in control, despite her subservient position; she'd been doing a good job and Phillippe had allowed her to deal with his erection without direction. The impalement took her more or less by surprise, and she immediately began to gag and choke. Instinctively, her arms came up, but she held off, merely waving them futilely.

Charles glanced up at Bianca, and directed, "Bianca! Bring the empty bucket around, in case she needs it!"

Bianca had been standing off to the side watching the proceedings with eyes that all but bulged. She shook herself and stepped up, placing the empty bucket to the Wench's left, then remained there, close enough that the Wench's left hand closed on a handful of her Catholic School uniform skirt. Phillippe was holding the Wench deep while he stood there head back, hips surging to the pulsations that Bianca could see going through the base of his cock, his testicles drawing up and dropping rhythmically as he came. In a moment, he relaxed visibly and let up on the Wench, who was red-faced, gurgling and working hard to breathe.

It was a near thing. Phillippe pulled back and the Wench coughed and sputtered, but somehow managed to continue to hold Phillippe's glans in her mouth, cradling it while her belly churned, the contractions visible for all to see due to her nudity. In a moment, though, she began to breathe more easily and she let go of Bianca's skirt, smoothing the crumpled area distractedly while she cleaned leftover spit and semen from Phillippe's shaft. The Wench then smiled up at Phillippe, "Thank you!"

This pretty much blew Phillippe's mind; he'd used her and abused her probably worse than he'd ever done to a woman, more or less cruelly surrendering to his pleasure at the cost of her comfort, and the Wench not only delivered in spades, but said 'Thank you!' He shook his head. "You're thanking me? I can't really understand why you put up with that!"

The Wench shrugged, a Mona Lisa smile on her face. "My Master wishes that I be proficient in this. You have helped me. It was important that I be challenged, and you did so."

Pete was all over this. "Wasn't too lengthy a challenge, though, was it?" he teased. "Man, that was -- what -- twenty seconds?"

Phillippe reddened under the harassment, but didn't get excited. "Talk big after you've had it!" he challenged. "The woman's mouth is a furnace!"

The Wench was pleased with the accolade. Phillippe's cock had been okay; it hadn't tasted too sweaty or nasty despite having a foreskin, and although he'd surprised her with it, his cum hadn't tasted any too awful. And she'd gotten a bit of a charge out of it -- she was wet from the experience. In some ways, her new career was a lot more rewarding than her old one...

Bianca hadn't moved from her close-up position. She stood there, mute absorbing the experience, aware that this was NOT normal AT ALL, yet no one was complaining... Her hands itched to touch Phillippe's slowly shrinking appendage; she'd seen Mister Jason's, fleetingly, on a couple of occasions, but it was always under poor conditions -- at a distance, in poor light, bad angle... Here, she was in touching distance of a seriously intimate act, and it was overpowering! She could even smell... What? The more acrid odor with the smooth overtones was probably semen, and the somewhat more fishy one... Bianca's eyes widened. Despite being orally raped, basically, the Wench was aroused!

The Wench wasn't the only one. All of the males were -- even Phillippe, as he slowly staggered back, continued to have a hard-on, although it was subsiding somewhat. And Bianca was flushed, her fat nipples poking visibly through the smooth drape of her white school blouse. Charles, standing there, reflected that Bianca was a cliché -- the 'Horny Catholic Schoolgirl'. The though brought a grin. The little Chicana was obviously fully developed, despite her youth -- Charles wondered just how long it would be now before some male sampled those pleasures...

Ed moved forward, dragging at his belt. "Well, Pete talks shit, but he's got issues. I ain't. You ready to go again, Sweet Thang?" Before the Wench had even finished her smiling nod, Ed unlimbered a stringy-looking member, whipcord lean, but covered by ropy veins. He was circumcised, and the head was smaller than Phillippe's member, but it was a good half-inch longer, too. The issue became rapidly apparent; while Phillippe had knocked on the door to the Wench's throat, Ed's length demanded entry. Bianca watched the Wench work to take it, lowering her head to give Ed a straight shot, veins bulging in her neck.

The Wench tried, hard. She took Ed for five strokes, but he was going for depth. The Wench lost it and her hands came up, scrabbling at his hips. Charles yelled, "Bucket!" and Bianca danced back as the Wench heaved and vomited.

Ed had the good sense to be contrite. "Sorry, Baby!"

The Wench waved it off, still trying to get control. Charles gestured at Bianca, who snatched up the towel and handed it to her. Charles murmured, "This is what she's here for." Everyone paused for a moment, while the Wench got control over her heaving stomach. After a bit, Charles asked, "Ready?" The Wench composed herself and nodded. Charles turned to Bianca. "Hold her arms behind her." Then he nodded at Ed, "Again." The Wench obediently clasped her hands behind her and Bianca stepped up behind and gingerly grasped her arms just below the elbows.

"Awright." Ed's enthusiasm had largely departed; making women puke wasn't high on his list of fun things to do, despite the power inherent in the act. He shuffled up and presented his stringy meat, and the Wench, without any obvious sign of displeasure, proceeded to engulf it. Ed didn't go for depth immediately; instead, he let the Wench get her bearings. It wasn't as if he had to stick his dick in her neck to enjoy it -- she was a damn fine cocksucker without it. She gave him no time to get impatient, either, gamely going for depth after only a few seconds of gentler effort. At first, her shoulders hunched and her stomach muscles stiffened with every stroke, but she kept at it; Ed saw no reason to prompt her. The Wench settled in, building a somewhat complex rhythm that mixed soft, tip-laving action with deep penetrations through the opening of her throat; the sensations were incredible and varied widely, keeping him from becoming numb to a particular pattern. Ed cupped the back of her head in his hand, but further urging wasn't required; she was doing a helluva job and Ed was in Heaven -- mebbe he oughta offer to marry her or something?

In the meantime, the Wench had found control. In a minute or so, she went from gagging at every stroke to every other stroke, to one stroke in three... She privately doubted that things were going to get any better, but they were working, sooo... Ed was a little sweaty, but he was generally clean, if slightly musky. The musk actually helped; the Wench was getting wet again, starting to seriously enjoy teasing Ed's cock.

If Bianca's previous seat had been ringside, this had to be even closer! She had to bend over to hold the Wench's arms, and was getting the show right over her right shoulder. While Ed had been brutal on the first pass, she could tell that he was simply allowing the Wench to do her work this time, and the quiet sounds, the hissing breaths, and the series of withdrawn expressions that flickered across his face as he hovered above her were testimony to the effectiveness of the Wench's efforts. Bianca knew that Ed was going to cum probably before even either Ed or the Wench; his cock stiffened visibly, the ropy veins on its surface pulsing. Ed instinctively took charge as the urge to bury his cock in the Wench's depths to shoot took precedence over his reticence and he grunted, "Jeeez!" as he clutched her head to him.

The Wench held on, working to get air past the obstruction by breathing through her nose. Her throat worked as it tried to deal with the intruder lodged there, which only transmitted more sensation to Ed's pulsing cock. Bianca clamped down, but the Wench seemed intent on merely hunkering down and straightening Ed's shot at her bulging throat.

Sense returned to Ed fairly quickly, and he backed off after the first three pulses, delivering follow-ons into the Wench's mouth while she suckled the head. Once he'd backed out, the Wench resumed full control rapidly, and proceeded to work to ensure that the aftermath was good for Ed. In a moment, Ed staggered back and began to tuck a thoroughly clean if slightly saliva-slick cock into his pants. "That was mighty fine, Baby, mighty fine. Thank ya."

The Wench swallowed to clear sticky stuff from her throat and pushed out, "You're welcome, Sir."

Charles picked up Bianca with his eyes. "Run and get the Wench some ice water." Bianca was gone in a flash -- obviously, the Wench had MORE than earned it. Besides, if she hurried, she could at least take a swipe at the incredible itch between her legs... The first exhibition had been amazing, but she'd participated in a small way to the Wench's captivity during the second and she was on fire! Racing around the kitchen, she got a glass and ice, then took the opportunity that presented itself to grind her burning clit unobtrusively against the handle of the sink cabinet while filling the glass with water. The respite was momentary, but it would have to do -- how on Earth was she going to survive two more of these?

Then, as she was returning, she got close enough to hear conversation while still inside and stopped when she heard her name come up in the male banter on the porch. "Having Little Bianca here is all right, after all, I guess," Boris observed. "Watching her face while she observes the Wench at work -- very entertaining!" He chuckled, and other voices added to it.

"Such big eyes," Pete commented.

"Huge!" Phillippe agreed.

"Yeah, well, wait'll you get a look down the neck of that blouse!" Ed chuckled. "Man, those are some sweet titties! Bianca may be fourteen, but she's all woman, and when she bends over to hold the Wench's arms... Man! She got excited and those things started rising an’ falling -- It's a wonder I didn't leave a quart in the Wench!"

"You mean you didn't, Sir?" the Wench quipped, to general laughter.

"Well, remember she's not here to fuck," Charles admonished. "Her Daddy might be a dickhead, but her Mama is a sweet woman. Obviously, Bianca knows that Jason is doing her Mama regularly; you guys ought to know that she's right -- Jason gets his sex wherever he wants it, but when he gets it from her, somebody else misses catching the shit end of the stick, usually. You didn't hear it from me, but I think Jason's sweet on her, if that's possible. Mr. Wilson is undoubtedly furthering Bianca's education deliberately, but she's a sharp girl who knows what sex is, so don't go getting ideas about tricking her into something and tapping her; for one thing, if I hear about it, I'll take your balls off, myself!"

"What if she takes a shine to one of us on her own?" Ed wondered.

"In THAT unlikely event," Charles returned, "I'd recommend that you discuss it with her Mama and maybe her Daddy first! Raoul may be an asshole, but he's pretty good with that toad-sticker of his, and he'd come for you -- that's for sure!"

All this was somewhat of a revelation for Bianca, on several levels! The fact that these older men found her to be interesting, even while getting admittedly incredible blowjobs from the Wench, was pretty amazing to her -- guys her age bothered her all the time, but they were just pests, as a rule; the couple of guys that she knew of who were actually screwing girls in her school were noisy jackals with whom she would not possibly associate, and the rest were still children. Boys in the old country seemed to grow up a lot faster... The fact that Mr. Charles knew of and apparently shared her opinion of the implications of her mother's relationship with Mister Jason said a lot, too -- and the fact that Mister Charles thought that Mister Jason's repeated attacks on her mother constituted a relationship, just as she did, was a pleasant surprise. Bianca schooled her expression and rounded the corner.

Things got quiet while everybody worked to come up with a new subject. The Wench merely knelt, smiling, while the men flicked glances at Bianca and tried to decide what to talk about next. Charles took notice of the Wench's condition while she consumed the water, directing Bianca, "Why don't you see if you can clean up the excess, there?" 'The excess' was the flood of excess spit that had flowed down the Wench's neck and dripped onto her chest during her recent efforts. Her breasts were soaked; Ed's regular opening of her throat and the resulting gagging had turned on the saliva machine, full blast.

Bianca caught up the towel and dabbed at the mess, then used a damp rag to wipe up the sticky stuff and the towel to dry it when a simple wipe didn't seem to be enough. "I'm going for more towels," she announced, and took off again.

Phillippe took this opportunity to ask a question: "Hey, Boss, is this a one-off? Or, uh, is there gonna be, like, another opportunity to, uhhh..." Phillippe didn't quite seem ready to put what he was thinking into words, but everyone got the gist, including the Wench, who regarded him with a slight smile.

"Well, first thing's first," Charles replied. "I'm not your boss any more," he announced, nodding at Boris, "He is. You guys might want to sort out who moves up. But I warn you -- if you don't do things to Mr. Wilson's satisfaction, it'll be short-lived, so pay attention to Boris, whichever of you moves up." That said, he rubbed his chin. "The Wench is the Boss' slave, and as such, she operates technically below any of the hired servants. On the other hand, she's a specialist -- don't expect to see her making like a maid unless there is nothing else to do. The Wench has certain natural gifts, but she needs to be kept in tune; I've been authorized to use you boys to further her education and keep her at her peak. So I figure that yeah, you'll get some more of her -- but there are rules! First, you get my permission; no chasing her down to collect a piece without permission! Likely she'll provide it, but when I find out, there'll be a shit-storm -- and I KNOW you don't want to discuss it with Jason! The Wench's primary purpose is to service Mr. Wilson's guests; secondary to that, she's around to take his edge off when he's not entertaining some other piece. Mr. Wilson wants her to be fine-tuned and capable of doing shit that a regular woman would scream bloody murder and try to get you arrested for -- and that means she needs to do strange shit on a regular basis. So I say when and I say how, just like today. Last but not least, don't get all hung up on her -- she belongs to Mr. Wilson and that's that. You fuck around and get stupid romantic ideas, and trouble will ensue -- bad trouble! Are we clear?"

"One question," Pete replied, but he was looking at the Wench. "What do YOU think of all this?"

The Wench blinked, and scratched her thigh absently for a moment, formulating her answer, then replied, "It's immaterial what I think -- my Master has provided instructions and given Sir, here, the authority to interpret them. I'm a slave -- I volunteered, but when I did, I gave up the right to run my own life. I do what I'm told. But I'm NOT unhappy with my lot, and no one here should feel that they've harmed me. In fact, challenging as this is, I'm having fun!" She smiled engagingly.

It was true, too! The Wench had come in the door of Armand's mansion just like a host of other women, but his usual techniques for breaking his victim's will had been subjected to a type of metaphysical jiu-jitsu where the Wench was concerned. His demands resonated against a hunger that she had buried inside her, an urge to serve and ignore the cost. The more Armand demanded, the more she gave, without let or quibble. Armand considered her a broken thing, and assumed responsibility for her because, in his eyes, he'd done her irreparable damage, but the Wench merely felt free; Armand was her Master, and she would do whatever he wished of her and accept the crumbs of his mild approval. Armand had already determined that pushing the woman to extremity was an exercise in futility; she would accept whatever fate he offered her. Armand had told her that it was her lot to service his guests, and that she should be prepared to service extreme sexual acts; practicing a little fellatio on the porch, no matter how challenging, was a minor thing. In fact, her actual treatment in this house had improved since she'd been named slave, officially; acknowledgment of her status as one whose will was irrelevant basically put a stop to atrocities designed to break it. The Wench had always enjoyed sex; now she could feel free to enjoy any act, even bizarre ones. Sure, she suffered pain on occasion, but Master had shown her that pain was merely another type of sensation, to be used to multiply pleasure...

Boris grunted. "Well, since Pete is sitting on the -- wall? Fence? Yes, fence. Okay. Since Pete is sitting on the fence, it is my turn, no?"

The Wench flick a quick confirmation glance at Charles and agreed, "Yes, Sir."

Boris ambled up and loosened his dungarees. He wore no underwear, having been heard to declaim loudly on occasion that they 'bound him'; the Wench found herself presented with a thick, meaty, uncut joint extending over a set of big, heavy-looking balls. Bianca returned at about this time, and Charles nodded that she was to resume her position behind the Wench, holding her arms. The Wench shoved her dark auburn hair back over her shoulders and assumed the position, holding her arms back for Bianca to take, then bent and took Boris' cock onto her tongue.

Boris wasn't at full extension, but soon got there; nonetheless, his foreskin didn't really clear his glans. Boris had a thick, meaty shaft with a big cap of a glans; he topped out at just under six inches, but his girth had the same effect upon the Wench as Ed's length had -- it would have never passed her throat, and when it reached the back, it triggered her gag reflex. It was also somewhat gamy, to start -- since his foreskin didn't fully retract naturally, Boris collected things there. The Wench set about methodically cleaning him with her tongue, pushing it into this crease and extracting the foul-tasting goop, on the theory that he'd be easier to take deeply if she didn't have to deal with the taste of it; Master had trained her to worse, anyway, she thought to herself. It was true, for what it was worth; besides, Boris was REALLY sensitive in there -- her efforts triggered a little dance from him as she overloaded his nerves.

Boris wasn't used to this, anyway. True, he was his family's success story, the one who left his native Georgia (the one in what used to be in the USSR) to come to America. This, however, did not necessarily translate to success with women... He, like many of his countrymen, had taken to driving a cab in the City, sending money home to his parents and younger brother Leopold -- until the night some desperate junkie had tried to rob him at knifepoint. Years of taking care of himself while dealing with the vicious and the desperate during periods of civil unrest had lent him proficiency with both guns and edged weapons; he'd had no compunction about gutting the junkie with his own knife. It was clearly self-defense, but Americans were curiously soft for being so rapaciously rich; Boris had lost his cab, and nearly lost his green card, over the incident. A conversation started during an evening of angry drinking led to a couple of cautious interviews while various people sounded him out, but Boris believed in reality, not what some fool penned in a law book; you gave your loyalty to a man of power, and if he took care of you, you never looked back; an interview with Mr. Wilson had told Boris all he needed to know. The obvious option was to offer Boris a job as chauffer, but Armand had had one -- besides, Boris let it be known that driving wasn't a favored occupation -- the hours sucked and Boris liked outdoor work. So Armand fired his landscaping contractor and put Boris to work on the grounds, which pleased them both. Boris drove or rode shotgun on the odd occasion when the situation required it, and generally did whatever Armand required of him, including breaking heads where necessary, without much regard for the fine points of the law.

This had all begun eight years before; Boris was forty-four, and he didn't get out much -- there wasn't much point in it. Boris got sex on the odd occasion when Mr. Wilson brought in a local slut to pass around; otherwise, he hung around 'the dacha', as he thought of the Wilson mansion, drank a little vodka, and made do with porn flicks or whatever. Having the Wench wrap her mouth around his cock was virtually unprecedented; he knew right away that his time there would be short. But then the little Mexican girl had locked eyes with him, rose on her haunches to the point that he was staring down the neckline of her white school blouse at a pair of indescribably sweet, round, firm titties, and gently shook her shoulders, causing them to roll and jiggle...

Abruptly, (or so it seemed to the Wench), Boris' eyes bulged, he grunted a curse in Russian, and clamped his hand behind her head as his thick penis stiffened and surged, pouring copious quantities of semen into the Wench's mouth. The quantity was surprising; it was more than Phillippe had generated, and MUCH more than Ed had -- the Wench swallowed frantically, but Boris kept on pulsing, straining and grunting curses in Russian under his breath. The Wench held on, and finally, Boris stopped delivering anything huge, although his cock continued to pulse. The Wench continued to lave and suckle until Boris couldn't take it any more and he staggered back, clearly spent. "Ooosh!" he exclaimed, "That was..." Clearly, he didn't have words; in a moment, he raised a calloused paw and gently caressed the Wench's cheek. Then he turned a stern visage on Bianca. "YOU, Little One!" he accused. "Do THAT in the wrong company, and you will get what you so richly deserve!"

Pete and Phillippe passed a quizzical glance; they'd been conversing, ignoring the 'old guy', and had been taken by surprise by his rapid finish -- they'd missed Bianca's little display. Charles hadn't, though. "So you overheard us? That's all well and good, but Boris is right; this is the big leagues, and you could find yourself in trouble, if you're not careful!"

Bianca blushed, but returned, "I'm safe here." Charles merely arched an eyebrow.

Bianca went and retrieved the water glass so the Wench could again wash down the product of her exercise. The Wench took it gratefully, and drank a bit, then asked quietly, "What did you do?"

Bianca grinned. "I shrugged." She suited the action to the words, and the Wench grinned back. At fourteen, Bianca was carrying more soft, rounded flesh on her chest than the Wench had at almost twice her age due to the fact that the Wench had been a model and was built to suit. The pair were as different as Mutt and Jeff, but it was a matter of taste which was more beautiful.

The Wench looked up brightly and asked, "Okay, who's next?" She glanced at Charles, but he demurred, "You're used to me." This wasn't strictly true, but he had ample opportunity. He swept a glance over the others. "Pete? Before I open up seconds?"

Pete grimaced a second, then grunted, "Yeah..." and started forward.

"I don't want to ruin your domestic situation," Charles admonished.

"I'm the latest in a great long line with Amy," Pete replied, "and we're not exclusive. I don't KNOW she's saving it up for me... But I DO know she's careful, so I figure I'm safe." Pete was the beautiful side of handsome, narrowly muscular, with dark, wavy hair and green eyes. Bianca had spent many an afternoon watching him work on hedges from her bedroom window. The body parts he exposed now were the only ones she hadn't drooled over before, and they were every bit as beautiful as everything else. Pete had a long, smooth, solid-looking circumcised cock with a fat, purple tip that ran a good bit over seven inches; the Wench's eyes widened at the sight. The testicles that hung below weren't as big as Boris', but they went well with the rest of the package, being good-sized without appearing to totally fill his scrotum. There was a tight, round ass there, too, although neither of the women was really in a position to see it well.

The Wench glanced at Charles. "I'm gonna need to use my hands for a bit. This is... big..." Charles grimaced, but nodded, and the Wench put her hands on Pete's thighs -- not to hold him off, but to give herself a base from which to impale herself on perhaps the longest cock she'd ever taken! Bianca watched over her shoulder, wide eyed -- Pete was hung! Omigawd!

The Wench started slow, laving the head and the shaft while Pete groaned in pleasure, then ovalled her lips around the glans and began the serious work of coating the shaft with spit and absorbing it, using her hands to pull Pete in. If she'd had to start cold with Pete, she'd never have been able to do it, but previous efforts had been confidence-building. Soon, red-faced and sweating, she was managing to push Pete through the opening and into her throat every few strokes.

Deep-throat action of this class was a new experience for Pete; aside from the sensations, watching the Wench work to absorb his erection was a big ego-booster. And little Bianca's bug-eyed regard made it even sweeter -- not to mention the impressive amount of cleavage she was displaying! Still, a mouth is not a pussy, and the waves of sensation rose and fell as the Wench tried different things, looking for a successful combination.

Exhaustion was quickly claiming the Wench, too -- this was hard work! Her mouth was sore, and her tongue was worn out... Pete's beautiful cock deserved better, but she just didn't have any more to give... It seemed to take forever, and DID take almost fifteen minutes, before Pete got really tense and took over control, hissing, "I'm close..." For the next few strokes, the Wench concentrated upon keeping her mouth tight, but her teeth out of the way, as Pete abused her throat with several long strokes. At that point, he buried it, groaning, and poured his seed down her open throat while the Wench struggled to breathe and not choke. After the first four big pulses, Pete backed off, and the Wench cradled his cock in her mouth, suckling while she got her breath and control back. After a few seconds, Pete stepped back, murmuring, "Mmmmmm, nice!" And it had been; Amy was an experienced cocksucker, but there was something about this total subservience thing and Amy didn't really try to do deep throat...

The Wench swallowed hard to clear the sticky mess in her throat and murmured hoarsely, "I can do better... Tired..." Charles, examining her closely, gave a nod of confirmation; four blowjobs was a few, especially given what went into that last effort...

"Shit, no seconds?" Phillippe complained. He'd been looking forward to going again -- and trying to outlast Pete.

Charles considered this, eyeing the Wench. She was exhausted, but aroused, his experience told him. Hmmmmm. "Well, perhaps we can abuse another opening. Wench, drop over onto your hands. Phillippe, why don't you get yourself some pussy -- only try to pull out and feed her your cum, all right? That should work..."

"Hot damn!" Phillippe shucked out of his jeans and circled behind the Wench, who had followed instructions willingly and was looking at Charles in some gratitude. She was smoking hot; it was kind of Sir to recognize it and grant her some service... Bianca got out of the way, and Phillippe knelt up and with little ado nosed his cock between some soaking-wet nether lips. "Oh, Holy shit! And I thought her MOUTH was good!" Glancing over at the others, he announced, "She's soaking wet, guys -- we weren't exactly raping her... Aaaaaahhhhhh!"

Bianca had a ringside seat, and the stimulation was killing her! Phillippe set up a pounding rhythm, and the Wench was already throwing her head back, snorting in pleasure, and Bianca's pussy itched like mad! What to do, what to do... Bianca glanced around in desperation, to find the other four males watching her like hawks -- which made things even worse! Ed was actively smirking, while Pete attempted without much success to keep a straight face; Boris and Charles both managed to transmit amusement while being poker-faced.

From a male standpoint, Bianca was nearly glowing in the dark, she was so hot! She was squirming, her face, neck, and upper chest were pink, and her nipples were tenting her blouse through the bra. Watching the whole thing was, frankly, delightful! When the Wench dropped onto her elbows to raise her ass, moaned, "Ohhhh, God!" and started undulating through her first orgasm, Bianca became frantic!

Charles took pity on her. "Run and get more towels, Bianca -- we don't know how long this is going to go on..."

Bianca was off like a shot, running through the door, around the corner and up the hall to the linen closet. Instead of merely collecting towels, she closed the door behind her, welcoming the darkness while her hand sought the waistband of the cotton panties under her pleated school skirt. Her middle finger slid through damp pubic curls in the swamp that was her panty gusset and engaged her clitoris, rubbing the oversensitive bud in a pattern long-practiced while she bit the other hand to keep from making noise. In her mind's eye, it was her that knelt on the back portico, nude, her ass in the air while Pete slid his beautiful cock in and out of her needy channel. Orgasm found her in less than fifteen seconds; she leaned against the wall, weak-kneed, while the waves surged through her, then teased herself to a second as soon as she could bear to touch her screaming clitoris.

That was it, though -- she'd been gone a couple of minutes, and it wouldn't do for Mister Charles to come looking for her, especially if he found her with her hand in her pussy. She fumbled the light switch on and collected a couple of hand towels, then, on second thought, a couple more, and ran back to the porch.

The Wench was just starting orgasm number three, her moans muffled by Ed's cock as he knelt on his knees before her. Phillippe continued to pound away, but his whole demeanor said that orgasm was imminent. As Bianca perched herself on the edge of a lounge chair, wondering if she could find a corner to rub, and, if so, whether she dared, Phillippe raised a hand to wave urgently and grunted, "Ed, back off! I gotta...!" Ed nodded and lurched to his feet as Phillippe backed out of the Wench's vagina and ran to present his cock for her to suck the essence from. Ed, circling around more or less automatically, found himself staring at the Wench's spasming pink gash. He glanced at Charles, who pulled a face and shrugged, so he knelt and socket himself in her welcoming tunnel.

The trio sighed in harmony, two male "Aaaaahhhhh"s and a female, "Mmmmmmmm!" Phillippe began pouring semen into the Wench's open mouth while Ed exclaimed, "Jeezus, this is some hot shit!" The Wench was drinking more or less automatically, while she finished her interrupted orgasm; Ed had arrived and was paving new ground just in time to extend it.

The whole thing was incredibly hot, and Bianca began to simmer again almost immediately. The chair wasn't offering Bianca any relief; maybe the arm... She got up and perched herself along the wooden chair arm, one foot on the seat cushion, and one on the floor. Yes, she could accomplish something here... She glanced up, meeting Charles's eyes -- eyes that said he knew EXACTLY what she was up to! Bianca hopped up, blushing guiltily. A glance at Boris and Pete found them rapt in the action around the Wench; Phillippe was staggering back from round two, obviously spent. Bianca collected a towel from the stack and handed it to him, wondering if she should make an effort to dry him off? Phillippe merely took it, though, with a grateful "Thanks." Bianca retired to the lounger, again perching herself on the arm, one foot carefully placed on the frame beside the seat cushion. Her glance at Charles as she began grinding her mound slowly against the arm was a challenge, but Charles' return look was merely amused.

The Wench was moaning continuously, "Uuuuuhhhh, oooooohhhhhh!", rocking against Ed's plowing stroke, her eyes distant. Pete and Boris exchanged glances, Boris clearing his throat and blurting, "I think I'll..." Pete waved a hand, and after a nod from Charles, Boris returned to the fray, dropping his dungarees and waving his again rampant cock in the Wench's face. The Wench just took it in as presented, her "Ooooohhhh"s turning to "Mmmmmmm"s as her mouth filled. Boris reflected that the vibrations from the sounds she was making added to the effect; otherwise, it wouldn't be nearly as good as the first pass; the Wench's primary attention was currently going to Ed's activity at her other end. It was nice, though, and he could probably... Boris shied away from the thought, but Charles voiced it, anyway: "Go ahead, fuck her face -- she should get the practice." Boris blinked, but hesitantly took the redhead's head in both hands and began directing her, adjusting to the rhythm Ed had going from the rear.

This drew quite a bit more of the Wench's attention, which attenuated the sensations she was getting from Ed, but a level of sanity returned to her as she remembered her role; it wasn't her job to cum like a racehorse, it was her job to give these men pleasure! She began working to improve Boris' experience, controlling her lips and laving the underside of his cock with her tongue -- but one hundred percent attention was impossible; Ed's efforts were impossible to ignore, even if she wanted to, (and, of course, she didn't...).

The lounger creaked, and Bianca glanced around guiltily. She had the corner of the chair arm pressed along her slit and was grinding it against her clitoris in an effort at relief. Pete glanced up and looked thoughtful; Bianca looked to be in dire straits. Charles was looking at her, but his face was enigmatic; in a moment, he looked away, back to the Wench's antics. Pete decided that maybe it was time to check on the girl; certainly, she was catching a lot, here -- maybe she was having trouble dealing with it?

Bianca was near explosion. The pressure of the chair arm on her clit had been a help, at first, but now it demanded more and more. Control was slipping; she was beyond the point where she could disengage without outside interference. She was going to cum right here, and the thought that everybody present might catch her just added to the whole thing! She knelt there, moving only fractionally, her attention closing to a tunnel, the other end of which framed the Wench and the two men reaping pleasure from her, while the geyser rumbled louder and louder, roaring in her ears.

Pete circled around, coming up on Bianca's right. She appeared to be hypnotized by the action before her, but upon close examination, she was shaking a bit, he thought. Certainly, she looked feverish... Gently, Pete placed a hand at the juncture of her neck and left shoulder and murmured, "Sweetie, are you okay?"

That did it. Bianca felt the touch, and turned wondering eyes to Pete -- and the geyser erupted! Suddenly, she crashed against him, her right hand taking the forearm that he raised to support her in a death grip, and he watched her eyes roll up as she began undulating against the chair arm, moaning, "UuuuuuuUUhhhhhh!!" This went on for a couple of seconds, while Pete wondered if she was having a fit or something, then she collapsed against him, panting. But that didn't last long, either -- in a moment, she muttered, "Oh, God!" distantly, then surged up as if galvanized, and ran inside...

Bianca's humiliation knew no bounds! She didn't stop running until she'd reached her bedroom in the servant's quarters, where she plopped on the bed and tried to work her way through a fit of hysterics. Omigod! She'd cum, right there in front of all those men! And Pete! God! What would he THINK of her?

For his part, Pete was thunderstruck! What the f---? His first inkling came from a glance at Charles, who had nearly collapsed in silent mirth. "What the Hell was THAT all about?"

It took a moment; Charles couldn't get his breath, he was laughing so hard. Charles looked around a bit; Phillippe had missed the whole thing, basically -- he was recuperating from his efforts with the Wench, sprawled in a deck chair. Ed and Boris were both engaged with the Wench, who was in no condition to notice much outside the boundaries of her own body. He waved Pete over and began to explain in a conspiratorial whisper, "Little Bianca might be only fourteen, but she's all woman -- a lot of Hispanic beauties mature early. She was rubbing herself off on the chair arm; when you came over, you set her off..." There was another quick chuckle, suppressed with some effort. "I figure she diddled herself in the linen closet a bit ago -- that's basically why I sent her out. Apparently, it wasn't enough..." Another suppressed snort. "This is gonna be a tough week for little Bianca."

"Jeezus." Pete shook his head in wonder. The first guy to sink his dick in THAT one would have his hands full...

"There's something else," Charles added, "I think she's got a thing for you..."

"You just HAD to tell me that..." Pete had a 'thing' for Bianca, too -- it hadn't really gotten serious until today, though. Up until now, it had been merely, 'If I was just a few years younger...’ when he glimpsed her soft rounded curves barely concealed in a bikini around the pool. Today, however, had added a layer of urgency, now that he knew that SHE knew what sex was... NOW he knew that she was masturbating, and probably thinking of him while doing it... The temptation...

Charles shrugged. "You should know... The poor thing is going to be heavily stimulated all week. We already know that she's... vulnerable. I wouldn't go chasing it if I were you -- Raoul is very good with knives -- but you might survive the fallout if she makes a present of it to you. Masturbation aside, I'm sure she's cherry. Better think about what you're going to do if you wake up with her beside you..."

Pete stood there musing, shaking his head. Amy was hot, but she wasn't any raving beauty -- and she had some habits that didn't sit well with him. Basically, she was a steady, enthusiastic source of good sex; neither of them was emotionally committed. Pete was kind of a male trophy for her -- what the Hell, the pay was good... But the Wench had her outgunned on several fronts, and Bianca... Gawd! He was entertaining the idea! He shelved the whole thing, turning to take in the current action.

Ed was pumping away like a madman, only marginally making any effort to take it easy on the Wench, who had no choice but to transfer the jarring impacts to Boris. But Boris didn't care; he was cursing reverently in some other language that Pete assumed was Russian, his face scarlet as he held the Wench's head in his hands, his heavy club of a cock sawing in and out between her lips. As Pete watched, he lost it, pulling her face into his crotch and grunting while she hummed, "Goooo, goooo, goooo," and swallowed, visibly, three times. Boris basically fell away from the Wench at that point, tripping on his dungarees and plopping onto his ass, but he was done, anyway; he slid forward a bit to caress the Wench's gooey cheek, then got up, hauling at his dungarees, and shuffled off.

Charles regarded Pete with an eyebrow raised. Pete took the hint, but rubbed at his jaw; suddenly, there might be something better.... Ultimately, he shrugged and shuffled around to where the Wench was regarding a chair with sightless eyes. "Wench? Can you go another round?"

"Ummmm?" The Wench struggled to raise her head. "Uhhhh, kay," she replied gamely. Pete shook his head -- the whole thing might not be worth it; the Wench was pretty far gone. But she blinked owlishly at him and challenged, "C'mon!"

The Wench WAS far gone -- she was in a place she'd never been in before, adrift between her fifth and sixth orgasm -- or was it sixth and seventh? It didn't matter; she was running on nerve, exhaustion threatening to stave off the next orgasm.

Ed picked that moment to signal his final approach, "Pete, don't -- I'm ready!" He shuffled back and circled around, gritting his teeth in an effort to get inside the Wench's mouth before the explosion. The Wench's mouth closed around his glans just before he reached the point of losing the battle, either way -- ejaculation or losing the orgasm altogether seemed to be the choice -- and with a loud, "Aaaaaaaaahhhhhh!" he let go.

The Wench took it, gamely diving on Ed's spurting cock to get it in deep. Pete shook his head and circled around, undoing his belt. Might as well get some pussy...

"OOOOOGH!" 'Gawd, another cock!' the Wench thought muzzily, 'Big one, too!' She was busy choking on Ed, so it couldn't be him... For a bit, it didn't matter, despite the interesting things the new cock was doing. But Ed finally extracted his dribbling cock to the point that she could merely hold it in her mouth, and she could stop worrying about where the semen she'd collected from it was going to go. At that point, things shifted again, and Ed's cleanup got little attention -- that cock was BIG! The Wench turned her head, allowing Ed's deflating cock to plop out of her mouth, and blearily regarded -- Pete! Ooh, Lord!

Pete grinned at her, and continued mining new territory inside her already battered pussy -- but he was making ground; the Wench felt the bubble of joy begin to swell inside her again, despite the wear and tear -- in fact, the pain was fueling the pleasure...

Pete was surprised; after having had two other guys in it, the Wench's pussy was still tight and sweet! Man, this was good shit! It had Amy wiped! Amy started out tight, but Pete had learned to do her doggy style so he could pop her on the ass periodically to get her to tighten back up. The Wench apparently didn't need any tune-ups -- she was just naturally tight... Pete started getting that iron-hard feeling that presaged a cum. Just a few more strokes...

The Wench, however, delivered a surprise. She dropped onto her elbows, raising her ass, and let out an impassioned, "UUUUuuuuuhhhhhh!!" And her pussy began to pulse.

Pete never got out. The first wringing clasp triggered him. Pete went bug-eyed. "Wooooo!" His cock started to gush; control was out the window. He leaned forward, burying himself deep, and let it go, glancing up at Charles and shrugging sheepishly. Charles shrugged back; he was watching the Wench work her way through her orgasm -- he knew what had happened. He glanced back up at Pete. "All done?" A nod. "Okay, grab a towel and take off; I need to bring Bianca back to clean up, and I'm sure you don't want her to catch you with your dick in the Wench." Charles took the sting out of this observation with a grin; Pete nodded and took off.