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Greetings All,

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V-1112 Bizarre Voyage by Anthony Bell

-=1=-

Her blonde hair disheveled across the pillow, Flavia awoke languorously, almost lethargically, staving off the start of her day by keeping her eyelids shut against the intrusion of the afternoon sun. She stirred drowsily and then tensed in surprised delight as flesh brushed her hand. Feminine flesh, soft and silky - and not quite familiar. Hmm - interesting.

Her fingers sought further information and found the search remarkably pleasant. She took inventory, touching lightly, trying to avoid disturbing her unknown bed-partner; it was more fun that way. Lovely, lovely - even though she was seeing only with the grazing tips of her fingers. An excellent pair of tits, a bit too full and heavy perhaps, considering her own personal preference for the slender type, but nice and firm nonetheless.

Smooth skin stretching over a rounded belly. And then the growth of cunt-hair - a trifle on the coarse side and certainly too thick and bushy for true daintiness - but pretty sexy just the same, and Flavia had to control herself to keep from stabbing right through it. But she remained content to play around, toying with the tangled tendrils and making just a small contact with the cunt-lips now and then. The flesh was dry, of course, disappointingly so, but that was to be expected during this time of peaceful slumber. Still, the hair-fringed outer lips felt soft and plump and rather tempting. Anyway, a cunt was a cunt, and in all the world there was nothing better. Except a more beautiful cunt, naturally. Stephanie's, for instance. But no, this wasn't the moment to be thinking about darling Stephanie and that dainty little pink slit of hers. The ocean voyage would be the time for that.

With deliberate calmness, Flavia turned her attention back to her sleeping partner's breasts. Less cautiously now, she cupped one in her hand, testing for heft and resiliency. The tit stood the test amazingly well. Better yet, the way it responded to her touch was positively delightful. Already, so quickly, the nipple was growing and stiffening sensitively and practically nuzzling into the hollow of her palm.

She played it. The awakening nipple. She tickled it and tweaked it and wondered who it was that possessed this receptive pair of tits. Sure, they were too big, but they did have that fruit-firm quality that belongs to youth alone. This was a young one, she figured. A shade zaftig - but young. That in itself was exciting, and she couldn't resist another tweak of the now all but rigid nipple.

"Huh? What - "

"Relax, baby. And if you say 'where am I?' - well, I swear I'll never forgive you."

"Oh. Flavia, it's you."

That ended the guessing game. Flavia opened her eyes and sat up. What she saw wasn't exactly spectacular, but it didn't really displease her. The girl was young, sure enough - brown hair, brown eyes - and quite pretty in a slightly overfleshed way. Her name - was it Rosemary? - yes, and Flavia was glad she remembered that much, at least. Vaguely she recalled picking the kid up at some early morning after-hours club and bringing her home. Other than that, she had no memory of who did what and with which and to whom; it was all an alcoholic blank.

"Yep, it's me. And you're Rosemary, isn't that right?"

"Uh-huh. Thanks for remembering. We met at - "

"Never mind where we met. How do you feel now? In the mood for a little sex?"

"I - I - " The girl frowned. "Oh dear, I've got such an awful hangover. I guess I drank too much. My head is throbbing."

"Okay, no sex. Not with a headache. What you need is some aspirin. Stay put; I'll ring for my maid and - " Flavia broke off, uttering a small oath. "No maid, either. She's out running a hundred errands for me. I'll get the aspirin myself."

"Thanks. You're sweet."

Flavia made the trip to the bathroom, a bit startled as her eye fell on the clock. It was already mid-afternoon and she had a lot to do. Too much to be wasting her time on this mousy little nobody. But she fulfilled her duty as a hostess and brought the pills and a glass of water. "You'll feel better soon. Why don't you sleep a while longer, huh?"

"Is it all right? You won't mind?"

"Be my guest. But you're on your own, baby; I've got a million phone calls to make. That damn cruise..." Flavia reached for her phone book.

"Cruise?"

"Something like that. Go to sleep, Rosemary. I'll use the phone in the living room."

"Flavia, wait. Is it the same cruise that Topaz Markowitz is going on?"

"Why, yes, as a matter of fact, it is. But where did you hear about it? Do you know Topaz?"

"N-no, not exactly. I just heard it mentioned, that's all. Somebody at that after-hours bar last night..."

But her hostess was already gone, and Rosemary lay still and listened to the sound of telephone dialing from the living room. She couldn't sleep now. Nor was she worried about her hangover either, now that this new development had suddenly sprung up. Her headache had been faked, actually, just an excuse to prevent a repetition of last night's messy lovemaking.

Last night. Ugh! Rosemary recalled it only too vividly. She had left the bar with Flavia eagerly enough, hoping to make a personal contact that would aid her career. Flavia was rich and famous and knew a lot of people in show business. People like Topaz Markowitz, for instance, important people who could open doors for a young girl looking for her first break. In bed, though, Flavia had turned out to be a selfish bitch who cared only for her own pleasure.

Rosemary grimaced. How many times had she sucked Flavia's cunt last night? She must have lost count. And then the rich bitch had just rolled over and fallen asleep. Just like that. Without offering a goodnight kiss, even. No wonder the "headache" routine had come up.

But this business about the cruise, well, it was sure as hell worth investigating. Rosemary had heard only rumors about the wild parties that took place on board Flavia's ocean-going yacht - and while the sex angle didn't interest her much, the big-name-studded guest list certainly did. What an opportunity! Shouldn't she try to make the most of it?

A spark of excitement flared inside her. It wasn't a sexual thing, really; she didn't much care about Flavia that way. Or any woman, for that matter but every budding actress had to dabble in lesbianism just to get along. Not that Flavia was unattractive, of course; hell no, for a somewhat aging blonde playgirl she was considered beautiful an got her pictures in all the gossip sheets. But more significant than looks or sex was the idea going on a cruise and rubbing shoulders with people who could do a young actress some good. Especially someone like Topaz Markowitz, who had once been just a showgirl but had taken her dear husband's money and invested it in the Broadway theatre. Yes, it would be a step in the right direction to go on that yacht cruise. The very thought was exciting.

Rosemary slipped out of bed. Boldly naked - since Flavia hadn't bothered to put a robe on either - she padded out into the living room. Flavia was lounging in an easy chair with her feet propped up on a hassock and the phone at her ear; she smiled quizzically and then moved her legs to make room as Rosemary purposely chose that place to sit down. The smile broadened as Rosemary stroked her ankles.

The telephone conversation had something to do with the cruise, but Rosemary couldn't get much out of it. She just went on caressing those long legs and waited for it to end. When it did, though, Flavia dialed another number immediately and Rosemary felt almost insulted. But she swallowed her pride and ran a hand high up on one thigh. Luckily, the noise rasp from the phone gave her a chance to make her pitch.

"Line's busy," Flavia said, breaking the connection but still hanging on to the telephone. "Hey, what happened to your headache? Did the aspirins work that fast?"

"Yes, thank you. I'm fine now. Only I got lonesome all by myself, so I came out here to keep you company. Is it all right? I'm not disturbing you?"

"It's okay, honey. But I'm so wrapped up with these goddam phone calls, well..."

"Oh. About the cruise, huh? Tell me - is Topaz Markowitz really going along with you?"

"I'll say. She never misses one of my bashes. Only you mustn't call her that; she hates that Markowitz name - it reminds her of her stupid husband. Besides, all my cruise guests go by first names only - it's an old custom. But you said you didn't know Topaz. Why are you so interested in her?"

"Well... uh... she's in show business and - "

"Oh. Show business, eh? So that's it. You figure she might give you a break?"

"Well... you know..." Stammering lamely, Rosemary nodded and hung her head, feeling her cheeks turning warm with the awareness that the woman had seen right through her. "When you mentioned the cruise, I just thought... uh..."

Flavia dialed again. "Damn. Still busy. Okay, Rosemary, what's it all about? You want to meet Topaz, is that it?"

"I - I'd like to. If I could go on the cruise..."

"Oh shit, you're just looking for an invitation. So you come out here and feel me up and expect me to be nice to you, huh? Tell me the truth, baby, and I do mean the truth."

"Yes, I - I'm sorry. You're right."

"I'm glad you're honest, at any rate. I've been conned by experts, Rosemary, so don't ever try to con me. But about the cruise, sweetie, you don't know what you're getting into. Or maybe you do know. Do you?"

"Well, I know it's all women. And wild, too. But that doesn't scare me. I like gay fun. And I'm sure I'd get along with everybody."

"Gay fun. Big deal. So now you're hot to make a real lesbian scene. Baby, I've got news for you. The kicks on my yacht are really far out. And if I invite you, there'll be no getting off and walking home. Not in the middle of the ocean. And you still want to come along?"

"I do, Flavia. Very much."

"Hmm... I wonder. Okay, I'll lay it on the line. First of all, the only men on board are the crew - and they aren't even allowed to speak to the passengers. Most of them are faggots, anyway, so nobody even notices them. But the women are more than just lesbians; they all have special kicks. Sadism, masochism, bondage, domination - that sort of thing. There now, have I said enough to frighten you?"

"N-no. Well, a little. But it sounds exciting. What would I have to do?"

"Just join the party, that's all. Become a member of the breed and develop your own kicks. There's all kinds of material for all kinds of weird pleasures. I even pay a few girls to keep things moving."

"You - you pay them? They're whores?"

"We're all whores in our own way, Rosemary. Aren't you being a whore right this minute? Sure, you are. I'll prove it. You want an invitation to the cruise? Okay, sell me your soul. Not just your body, your soul. Get off that hassock and get down on your knees and kiss my feet and tell me that you're mine. Say you belong to me - and say it good and loud."

In stunned misery, Rosemary sat motionless. Then, slowly, she slid to the floor and pressed her lips to one bare foot. Haltingly, she started to speak, but her mumble was cut off by the noise of the telephone dial.

Flavia got an answer this time. "Myrtle? It's me - Flavia. Hold the wire just a minute will you?" Then, brusquely, "Say it, Rosemary. Say it loud. Or else you can pick your ass up and put your clothes on and get out - and we'll just forget we even mentioned it. Speak up now. I said now!"

Rosemary spoke up. It began low in her throat but soon became a shout as Flavia's eyes blazed. The words poured out. And when she reached the last phrase - "I belong to you!" - she almost believed it herself.

"Good. You did well, baby. Now kiss my feet some more while I finish this call. Really kiss them, I mean, don't just touch them with your lips. Lick between my toes and take them into your mouth. Suck them. Make love to my feet, understand?"

Rosemary nodded and bent to her task feverishly, her mind reeling from the sheer ignominy of it. It all had a purpose, she kept telling herself, truly a worthwhile purpose - so she might as well swallow Flavia's toes along with her own pride.

"Myrtle? Okay, I can talk now. Huh? Oh, that. No, it's nothing important, dear, I'm just breaking in a new slave. Yes, of course, you'll meet her; she'll be on the cruise with us. Don't worry, I promise you'll get a crack at her."

A shudder wracked Rosemary's crouched body.

"What's that, Myrtle? No, you horny old bitch, she hasn't done that yet. Not to me, anyway - so you can be the first. How you pamper that fat ass of yours, darling. Why can't you be nice and normal like the rest of - "

The front door slammed. Rosemary glanced up but continued licking the bare feet humbly. A pretty girl entered, petite, dark-haired, loaded with packages - evidently the maid returning from her errands.

"Hold it, Myrtle." Flavia tilted her head. "Vestal, fix me some coffee, will you?"

"Right away, Madame." As if the scene she witnessed was just commonplace, the maid paid no attention to the foot-kissing and sped off on her duties.

"That's enough, Rosemary." Flavia seemed pleased, but her voice still rang with command. "Enough for my feet, I mean. Now get up here between my legs and do my cunt. Suck it - and suck it good. Or else I'll have to call Vestal in and let her do the job for you. And you wouldn't want that, I'm sure. After all, Vestal is only my maid. And if it ever got around that a servant is a better cuntlapper than you are, believe me, you won't be very popular on the good ship Lollipop. Now suck!"

Then, calmly, Flavia resumed her telephone call...

-=2=-

The girl's big blue eyes were fixed on a point on the ceiling above the man's shoulder. Her long hair, the color of sun-ripened wheat, flowed back evenly, long and straight and neatly combed in the teenage fashion. She was beautiful. Even now, lying in the man's clutching embrace, her pale-skinned naked body had the willowy grace of a high-fashion model.

But she was neither a teenager nor a model, having lived too many years to be the former and lacking the talent for the latter. Not that she was old, since she was just getting into her middle twenties. Nor did she lack talent, either, but it lay in her own specialized profession. Camille was a damn good whore. She knew how to give a client his money's worth. Value for value - that was her working creed - and while she didn't have the traditional heart of gold, she still believed in honesty in business. A conscientious hooker getting together with a respectable John and turning an honest trick. It was illegal, of course, and mildly immoral by certain standards, but she took pride in her work. She had learned to. Brenda had taught her well.

But this was no time to be thinking about Brenda, and Camille concentrated on the project at hand. Although it wasn't her hand, exactly, that had the John about to pop his cork, it was the way she could squeeze his cock with the hidden muscles of her cunt. It came natural to her and she had needed no instructions from anybody - including Brenda - in the performance of that peculiar stunt. It usually surprised her client, too, since the rest of her body was soft and fluidly boneless and looked as if it didn't have a single muscle anywhere. Deep inside her cunt there was a ring of tough fiber that she could contract and dilate at will, and there were damn few Johns who didn't appreciate it. One of her regulars once even accused her of deliberately developing the power by practice - like a boxer or weightlifter who goes around squeezing a rubber ball to strengthen his grip. Camille had chuckled at that, and the next time the client called her for a bit of yumyum she had pulled a little ball out of her snatch and presented it to him as a gift. Just for a laugh, of course, but the guy had sure gotten a big charge out of it - and now he was a once-a-week trick instead of the previous once-a-month. That was the kind of hooker she was - always coming up with some little gimmick to keep the boys interested - just in case pussy power wasn't enough.

This trick wasn't one of the regulars though; he came on pretty much like a tourist looking for a quickie. Either that, or a cop making like a tourist - and Camille often worried about that sort of thing. It would be nice to take the vacation that Brenda had promised; there was an election due next month, and the fuzz always got nasty when politics was on everybody's mind. It would be smart to get out of town until the heat was off.

But no, this guy didn't really act like a cop; he was much too good a lay. Damn good, in fact - and it was high time she gave him his jollies. Even a one-night stand deserved some action on her part.

"Oh, that's just grand, lover-man. I love the way you fuck. Umm, yeah, give me that big beautiful prick and I'll wrap my cunt around it and squeeze it dry."

"Honey... yes..."

"Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!"

That did it. The guy shot his wad and Camille milked him a little with her expert muscles - and that was that. A quickie. When she tucked the cash into her purse and glided out the door of his hotel room, he was knocked out. Satisfied, to say the least. She had earned her pay. Value for value.

It was pretty easy, really, much easier than most people realized. Easy to play the part, easy to put on a little act and convince the client that he was something special. And best of all, it was easy to keep her head and look upon each incident as just another business transaction. She was lucky that way. Lucky to be a whore who didn't have the hots for men. She had known too many hookers who let themselves get carried away and wound up wearing themselves out. Or getting the shaft, maybe - either from some extra handsome customer or from some sadistic pimp looking for a new addition to his stable. That was what often happened to a whore who got her kicks from a big cock attached to a pile of muscle.

Oh, men were okay, of course, as long as they laid the loot on the line and didn't fart around half the night before they folded. She didn't really dislike the poor bastards, no, it was just that she had something better to do on her own time. Her private life didn't include men. Actually, it didn't include women either - at least not in the plural. One woman was enough for her, one gorgeous hunk of female flesh that had the muscles of a man but was smooth and hairless and all cunt. With no crude cock to spoil the fun. Men were Camille's means of making a living, but after a hard day's night it was great to have Brenda to come home to. And she was glad that Brenda felt the same way; it gave them both something to live for.

Something worthwhile. What good is money without love?

The thought of Brenda made her quicken her pace as she brushed by the hotel doorman and flagged a cruising cab. It was early yet, but maybe Brenda had gotten a break, too. If so, they could have a long session together, hours and hours of their own non-stop brand of lovemaking. There was nothing like it. Cocks petered out, but tongues could go on forever.

The taxi ride was short, but Camille's hopes were dashed when she found the apartment empty. She poured a stiff drink to perk up her spirits and then climbed into the bathtub to cleanse herself of the ravages of toil and prepare her body for the coming of Brenda. The hot tub was relaxing; it soothed her flesh and eased her impatience somewhat, putting her into a state of dreamy languor. But even so, it didn't quite set her mind at rest - and pretty soon she had to let her hands help out. They weren't as enjoyable as Brenda's hands, but her cunt welcomed them just the same. It was a kind of silly schoolgirlish thing to do, but it sure felt nice. Especially under the water. The liquid heat made jerking herself off quite delightful.

But women didn't jerk off, of course; that was an expression invented by men, and even though she had heard the phrase used in reference to the female sex it just didn't seem right. There was no jerking, no pulling and tugging, no, it was all soft and sweet and slow and slithery, soft fingers teasing soft lips, soft, soft cunt-lips - and then the soft cunt-lips quivering and puckering up, pursing like the lips of a kissing mouth, yes, a mouth kissing the soft fingertips and opening up to suck them in and offer them a soft tongue; only it wasn't a tongue, really, but a cute little bump, a knob, a button, and when she touched it from the underside it seemed to swell up as huge as a mountain - only she had to touch it just right or else it wouldn't work. Hmm, how many men knew that? Damn few - and those that did had learned it from women. And it didn't actually swell up like a mountain, of course, it just felt that way inside. Not to the fingers, but deep down inside, somewhere in the soul, maybe, the place that didn't exist, the thing that was nothing and everything all at -

The sudden noise intruded - a key turning in the lock - and Camille flushed and yanked her hand away guiltily. She heard the door close and then waited a moment for fear that her voice would sound shaky. Another few tickles of her finger and she probably would have struck paydirt right there in the tub. Now she was hot - good and hot - and wasn't it great to know that her lover was home at last?

"Brenda?"

"Just a second, baby."

"I'm taking a bath. Come on in."

"Okay, okay."

Camille's brows wrinkled. What was Brenda doing out there? And that sound - a murmur - the murmur of voices? Did she have someone with her? That was strange. And pretty goddam annoying, too. The apartment wasn't for outsiders, it was the one place where they could be alone together.

The bathroom door swung open. As always, the sight of her lover gave Camille a melting sensation, a thrill that was like a heady intoxication. Brenda was big and strong - she should have been a lady wrestler, everybody told her - and her coloring was so dark, like heavily creamed coffee, that people made jokes about integration and black power; that sort of thing. But the way that she looked and whatever she did was certainly no joke to Camille. Might as well joke about life itself.

Smiling in greeting, Brenda bent down and stuck out her tongue. Camille kissed it. Just the tongue - and she didn't touch it with her own tongue or try to suck it into her mouth, she just kissed it with her lips. Brenda liked being greeted that way and it had became almost a ritual between them. It was an odd kind of kiss, more freaky than sexy, and yet Camille felt the jolt of it streak through her body right down to her yearning cunt. Only she couldn't forget that they weren't alone.

"I heard somebody talking, Brenda. Who is it? Did somebody come in with you?"

"Uh-huh. But it's nothing to get upset about. I didn't bring home a John, if that's what worries you. It's a woman. We've got some business to discuss."

"Oh. You'll get rid of her soon?"

"Soon. But there's no rush. Come and join us. Slip into your robe - oh, you've got the sexy one out. Fine. That's the way I want you to look. Real sexy, baby, because I want to show you off. So just come and prance around and look beautiful, huh?"

"Brenda, must I? Can't I stay here until - "

"Oh, shit! Don't you know better than to argue with me? What do I have to do to get through to you?" Then, abruptly, "Okay, don't answer that. I know what to do. Exactly what I have to do."

"You - you... Brenda? You mean now?"

But Brenda was already whirling around and flipping up her skirt and tugging down her panties. "I mean now. Kiss it. Kiss my ass. Kiss it and stop arguing."

And it was like a ritual again, but this time Camille didn't have to exercise any control at all, no, it was there in front of her, the thing that meant most in all the world, that dark-skinned beautiful ass, so strong, so peaceful, so demanding - and she craned her neck and plunged her face into the alluring crack and felt the muscles ripple as the firm hills opened up to enclose her cheeks and nose and mouth and at last she thrust her tongue into the sweet mystery of -

"Okay. Now that you've had your taste of my asshole, maybe you'll do what you're told." Brenda moved away, breaking the ecstatic contact. "Now get out of the tub and fix yourself up and come out and meet our guest. Understand?"

No reply was necessary; the skirt and panties were back in place and Brenda was already halfway out the door. Camille licked her lips - not nervously or unconsciously but purely for the purpose of extracting every last bit of excitement out of the taste of her lover's wonderful ass. The urge to finger her cunt some more almost overwhelmed her, but there was no time now and she had to resist it and feel the glow between her thighs mount to the temperature of a fiery furnace. She slipped into the robe, a sheer thing that didn't conceal much. Then, after a quick check of her hair and makeup, she went into the living room.

The guest was middle-aged and fat, all smiles and dimples, rather a pathetic creature, and Camille was glad of it. She would have resented a beautiful woman, but this one was surely no cause for jealousy.

Brenda seemed pleased with her appearance. "Camille, darling, this is Myrtle. Myrtle, say hello to my Camille."

"Well, hello..." The fat woman simpered. "Hello, hello, hello. I'm certainly impressed."

"How do you do?" Camille said stiffly, somewhat unsure of her role. "May I offer you a drink?"

"No, dear. I can't stay, worse luck; I just came to meet you and conclude my deal with Brenda."

"Deal? Oh, you have some business to discuss."

"Not any more. It's all done. Brenda, the two of you will be just fine. Provided... uh, well, about that other little matter, I suppose I'll have to take your word for it, hmm?"

Brenda nodded slowly. "It would be better if you did. If you insist, though, I'll have Camille give you a demonstration. But I do think we should wait until the mood is right, if you know what I mean. It will be easier for all of us that way."

"I understand. It's all right with me. I'll trust your judgment, my dear, since you've been so honest with me thus far. You certainly weren't exaggerating when you told me how lovely your friend was, so I'll assume you're just as truthful about everything else."

"Thanks. Honesty pays in the long run." Brenda grinned mischievously. "Not as much as yachting parties, though. Your offer was mighty generous. For that kind of money I'll guarantee complete cooperation."

"Of course. That's what I expect. Complete cooperation - in every way." Myrtle simpered again, and her sidelong glance in Camille's direction seemed to have some special significance. "Oh, I'm so excited. Wasn't it lucky that we should both know little Daphne? Otherwise we might never have met. But I must run along now; I've got to see Flavia and let her know that I've invited two more guests. Two darling guests - and I'm sure she'll be pleased. Suppose I ring you tomorrow, hmm? - just to fill you in on all the little details."

"Fine. Call us any time of the day or night. We won't be going out. You're our only date."

And as Camille stood there in dismayed puzzlement, Brenda let the woman out and locked the door behind her. Limply, Camille dropped into a chair and waited impatiently for an explanation, almost dreading what it would be.

Brenda swung around jubilantly. "Baby, we just tumbled into a gold mine. A month on the high seas - with all expenses paid. It's practically a vacation and we'll be splitting three thousand bucks between us. How about that?"

"A vacation on a yacht? Plus fifteen hundred dollars apiece? I just don't believe it. It's too good to be true. How many guys will we have to lay for? Not that it matters, if you really mean it about the money."

"The money will be in the bank before we get on board the ship. But we won't be laying for men, honey; this is strictly a hen party. All lezzies."

"We - we're going to be with women?"

"Sure. Men, women - what difference does it make?"

"Brenda, please. It does make a difference. A hell of a big difference, don't you see that? I'll turn a hundred tricks with men, but you're the only woman I want. And it would break my heart to see you with another girl."

"So what's a little heartbreak? When it's over we'll be as lovey-dovey as ever. And we'll be a lot richer. Anyway, I've already accepted the deal, so let's not argue about it. What a break! You remember little Daphne, the pink chubby kid we met last year? Well, I bumped into her at the Moonray bar and she told me about this gay yacht trip she's going on. Then this Myrtle dame comes in and right away she's interested. Interested in us, I mean - especially when I told her about you. So she makes the offer and asks if we'd like to come along."

"Oh. Is it her yacht? She said something about a woman named Flavia. Is that the famous - "

"That's the one. And it's Flavia's boat, not Myrtle's. Flavia is the one who's paying Daphne. In fact, that's why Myrtle was so happy to get you and me. It's like she's competing with Flavia, so now she can have two slave girls of her own and show off a little."

"Slave girls?' "Well, it's that kind of party. But it really isn't as bad as it sounds. Just a let's-pretend game, that's all. We're supposed to obey Myrtle and make her look good in front of the others. Hell, it'll probably be fun."

"Some fun. Hah! So that's what you meant about guaranteeing complete cooperation. But you said something about my giving her a demonstration. What was that all about?"

"Forget it. Anyway, we're going - and that's that. And since we won't be out hustling until the boat sails, you and I can have a nice long private party, huh? Beginning right now. What do you say, baby, you feel like partying with me?"

"I - I always do. I got so hot when you came into the bathroom and made me - " Camille licked her lips. "You know..."

"Yeah, I sure do know. I know what turns you on." Brenda was already shucking out of her clothes. "And I know what turns me on, too. So come here and do it. The full treatment. Tell me what you love and how much you love it."

The melting sensation struck again. And as if the ominous ocean voyage had never been mentioned, Camille went into a rapturous trance. She slid from her seat and crawled to her lover, moving behind her in a daze of excitement. It was there in front of her, the thing she adored, only this time she couldn't just kiss it. Not yet. Not for a long time maybe. But she didn't mind. She liked giving it the full treatment; it always made her hot. Brenda, too. Hot! Camille loved doing it.

"Your ass. Your beautiful ass. I love it. I worship it. I'm kneeling and praying to it. I'm begging your beautiful ass to take pity on me and allow me to kiss it. I'll tongue it and suck it; I'll beg you to let your sweet asshole smother me with love. Your beautiful ass is the most important thing in the whole wide world, and I want to..."

And as the reverential plea went on and on, Brenda stood haughtily and almost wished that Myrtle had stayed to see the demonstration. That would have clinched the bargain immediately; after all, it was only when she heard that Camille was a natural-born asslicker that Myrtle had gotten so interested. Interested enough to pay three thousand dollars.

-=3=-

The girl crouching at the side of the bed was smallboned and delicate, although just a trifle plump. The extra fleshiness was rather becoming, however; it seemed to fit nicely with her kewpie-doll coloring. Everything about Daphne had a pink tinge. Even her reddish hair was light enough to fall into that category. The hue gave her the appearance of blushing all the time, and to a casual eye she looked like a shy virgin, a picture of maidenly innocence. Which, of course, was far from the truth. Daphne was a whore. A lesbian whore, mostly, so perhaps the virginal aspect did have a certain accuracy.

Interspersed with the sighs and moans of the two naked women on the bed, she could hear the hissing, lapping noises from the porthole, the pleasant sounds of the ocean waves playing tag against the side of the ship. Daphne found it charming. She sniffed the salt air happily and reveled in her good fortune. The yacht was so luxurious; it was more like a small ocean liner than an ordinary pleasure craft. The bed, for instance, was a real bed, not just a bunk. It was bolted to the floor, of course, but it offered all the comfort that any bed on dry land could. The entire stateroom was magnificent.

It wasn't her stateroom, but Daphne knew she would be spending a lot of time here. Her own assigned cabin was much smaller, but that didn't upset her. She doubted if she would sleep in it even one night. She hoped not, anyway. Sleeping around was half the fun of an ocean voyage. And on this gorgeous vessel, it would be all the fun.

She giggled. The good ship Lollipop. It had another name, actually, a dignified name registered under the maritime laws, but nobody on board called it that. It was just the good ship Lollipop to Flavia and her guests and her hired girls. Daphne laughed every time she thought of it. She was so happy here. And imagine getting paid for it!

Oh, she would have to earn her pay, no doubt, but was there any better way to do it? Even now, although she did feel a bit left out, she was glad to kneel and attend the two lovers and await their orders. Topaz was absolutely beautiful, an ex-showgirl, blonde, tall, statuesque, and just the sight of her naked body was enough to make Daphne drool. Geraldine was kind of skinny and wiry, not really attractive but awfully rich, and her cunt wouldn't upset Daphne in the least when the time came to suck it. Daphne loved sucking cunts. She loved women. Most of all, she loved making women happy, especially the kind of women who were bossy and demanding. Women like that always got her steamed up, and she simply swooned at their feet when they spoke arrogantly and ordered her to do wild things. Both Geraldine and Topaz were like that sometimes - and Daphne loved being here with them.

They were ignoring her at the moment, but she knew her turn would soon come. Besides, it was nice just to watch them, the way they had their legs spread against each other so that their pussies were rubbing. It was something like dyking, really, but they had their own special way of doing it. Geraldine and Topaz had been lovers for a long time and they had probably developed techniques all their own. It made Daphne feel as if she were being given a great privilege just to see them in their own intimate brand of lovemaking.

And both of them were good to her, too, although Geraldine pinched and used her fingernails now and then. That was the only thing Daphne worried about. Not just Geraldine but the others also; some of them got a kick out of that sort of thing. Daphne couldn't stand pain. It frightened her. Anything else was okay; she even let Flavia pee in her mouth and got all excited swallowing it, but the idea of pain almost made her sick to her stomach. She hoped there weren't any real sadists on the boat. If there were she would have to avoid them.

Anyway, Geraldine just liked to scratch a little, so it didn't bother Daphne much. Besides, she would have endured almost anything - except real pain, of course - just to be near Topaz. Of all the women on the boat, Topaz was the most beautiful. And the most popular, too, since she was good-natured and easygoing and everybody liked her. Sometimes she was too easygoing, as far as Daphne's personal tastes were concerned; Topaz was a glorious queen but a benevolent one. But she was a fine actress, and every now and then - just for the fun of it - she played a different role and the benevolent queen became a tyrant. When that happened, Daphne nearly died from the sheer joy of it.

It wasn't happening now, though. Topaz was obviously her usual sunny self today, and she wouldn't change while she was with Geraldine. When they were together - which was most of the time - it was Geraldine who dominated the relationship. Well, no, she didn't dominate, exactly, at least not in the sense that Daphne found so exciting, but she did take the lead in a kind of butchy way. Geraldine was the "husband" in their gay marriage and Topaz was the loving wife. In fact, among all of Flavia's friends, Geraldine came closest to being a real butch. She was more masculine than the rest of them.

Even so, she was far from being the truly mannish type of lesbian; in spite of her lean, wiry build, she always dressed and acted feminine. Otherwise she wouldn't have been one of Flavia's chums. That was something Flavia had definite opinions about, and the idea of a woman coming on like an imitation man was offensive to her. She couldn't stand the kind of female who wore neckties and jockey shorts and brogues - and she was even annoyed by the use of a dildo. Cocks - genuine or ersatz - just didn't interest her.

There were probably some dildoes on board, of course, since some of the others were fond of them and Flavia was too amiable a hostess to deny her guests their pleasures. But the gadgets were either of the hand-held variety or the curved double-ended type that allowed both lovers to fuck and get fucked at the same time. At all of Flavia's parties that Daphne had ever attended, she had never seen the ungainly sort of dildo that had a mess of attaching straps and turned a woman into a man. And Daphne had been to a great many of Flavia's swinging affairs. She was always glad to fill in whenever Flavia called and told her that an extra girl was needed. Daphne adored her. She only wished that she could stay with Flavia permanently and work for her the way her maid Vestal did. Not only was Flavia a deliciously domineering mistress, but she was a full-time playgirl and life in her household was never dull. Daphne would have loved being with her constantly and taking part in all the fun.

This kind of fun, for instance. Geraldine and Topaz were finishing now, and Daphne knew she wouldn't be left out much longer. One way or another, they would make use of her. Yes. Geraldine was motioning with her hand, and Daphne leaped to obey. She crawled up on the bed and began licking Geraldine's cunt, doing it in a gently soothing manner, kind of swabbing it out with her tongue in the aftermath of the orgasm. The flesh was still warm and wet and she lapped the dewy moisture diligently, not making love but performing the task of a body-attendant after a bout of lovemaking. "Me too," Topaz murmured.

"Hmm?"

Geraldine tapped Daphne's head. "Both of us."

No further command was necessary, and Daphne switched over to Topaz and practically creamed in ecstasy at the taste of the sweet slit that she loved so much. But orders were orders, and she couldn't risk Geraldine's possible displeasure so she divided her attention equally between them. It was delightfully distracting to have two cunts to suck.

"She's good, isn't she?" Topaz said. "Notice the way she gets down low and does the ass-crack too? Damn few girls are aware of the need for that."

The compliment inspired Daphne, and she struggled to prove herself worthy of it, sipping up all the dewdrops that had drained from Topaz's pussy down toward her asshole. She took great pride in her work. But then, well, who could call it work? It was a labor of love.

"Daphne is the best," Geraldine agreed. "Hey, maybe we ought to keep her around for the rest of the cruise. It wouldn't be fair to monopolize her, I suppose, but the kid sure comes in handy at times like this. Deluxe maid service, you might say."

"Uh-huh. Like what Flavia gets from Vestal. It's something to think about, anyway. She's terrific."

"Enjoy her, honey. She's all yours now. I've got to go take a leak."

The enchantment of having Topaz all to herself was almost more than Daphne could bear. The minute Geraldine left the bed and went into the bathroom, Topaz's cunt became a private world of bliss. And although she was going beyond her assigned task, Daphne just couldn't help mouthing the hot blonde-hair-fringed gash with passionate fervor rather than calm care. She tongued it feverishly and could feel her own pussy growing damp with excitement; oh, it was such a gorgeous thing, the beautiful cunt of a beautiful woman, and she just had to suck it.

"Slow down, sweetie. Don't get so wild. As a matter of fact, you'd better stop and let me up. It's peepee time for me, too - and when ya gotta go, ya gotta go, right?"

Disappointed but nonetheless obedient, Daphne gave the enticing softness a farewell kiss and then helped Topaz to her feet. Striding away, the big showgirl's statuesque body looked simply marvelous, and she couldn't resist the urge to follow it.

In the bathroom - a real bathroom, not just a cramped shipboard cubbyhole - Geraldine was seated upon the toilet. She smiled as Topaz entered with Daphne trailing along in back of her. "I'm afraid you'll have to wait your turn, darling." A liquid splash sounded from beneath her. "I've got plenty to go yet."

"The hell you say. I can't wait."

"Well, I hope you don't expect me to move over. This isn't a two-seater, you know." Then, with a grin, "But if you'd care to sit on my lap..."

Topaz chuckled. "A lovely thought, thanks. Let's see now, how do we arrange it? Oh, I know. Spread your legs wide and I'll see if I can't - "

"No, don't turn around. Sit down facing me so that I can kiss those pretty tits, huh?"

No sooner said than done. Topaz parked on the spread thighs and offered her breasts to Geraldine's lips. The sight made Daphne shiver in rapture. Then she heard the added noise of Topaz's flow, a trickle that soon became a loud splash, and the temptation was simply too much for her. She sank to her knees and thrust her face up over the rim of the toilet bowl, wedging her head between the two bodies. Her forehead squirmed into the crack of Topaz's ass and her open mouth strained to reach both cunts. The position was mildly uncomfortable, but that just didn't matter. And it mattered even less when the two women accepted her attentions gleefully.

"So you want a mouthful, eh?" Geraldine's voice was suddenly strident. "Okay, drink it. The hot piss from our cunts, drink it, swallow it, gulp it right down!"

Daphne gulped, utterly devastated by the thrill. The urine came to her as a mixture, part Geraldine's and part Topaz's, and all of it made her tremble in ecstatic humility. She strained for it anxiously and the only fly in her ointment was that her mouth wasn't quite big enough and she couldn't swallow it fast enough and some of the fluid escaped her and dripped down into the bowl. Like overflowing wine, spilled, wasted, and it was maddening to lose even a single precious drop. She felt cheated - and she hoped they wouldn't think too harshly of her imperfection.

But she needn't have worried. "Geraldine, this kid is a terrific toilet slave. You're right about keeping her. Let's do it, huh? Let's have her serve us night and day."

And when Geraldine murmured assent and called her a hot little bitch of a toilet slave, Daphne went into a delirium of delight. My cup runneth over, she thought, and she quenched her thirst greedily and wondered if she would ever know such a moment for the rest of her life. Such a marvelous moment!

-=4=-

As hard as she tried to be angry, Flavia just couldn't manage it. She had felt a momentary burst of irritation, but it hadn't lasted very long. Who could remain peeved with such a darling child? Dainty red-haired Stephanie was just about the most delicious creature on earth. Certainly she was the nicest thing on the good ship Lollipop.

Just the same, though, the problem had to be faced. "Darling, I do wish you had told me about her before."

"I know, Flavia, I should have - and I'm sorry I didn't. But if I had, you might not have let her come on the cruise. And my mother was pretty firm on the subject, just too goddam firm. Either I went with my cousin June or I didn't go at all - that's what the mean old bitch said."

"Come now, that's no way to talk of one's maternal relative - even if she is a mean old bitch." Flavia smiled wanly. "But about June, well, when you called and asked to bring her along I assumed she was one of us. And now you say she isn't?"

"I - I didn't say that. It's just doubtful, that's all. June and I like each other and we've always been close - which is a good thing, since we're really first cousins. On both sides, I mean, not just through one of our stepfathers. Incidentally, that's why Mother was so insistent; we're supposed to act as mutual chaperons and keep each other out of trouble so that - "

"Never mind the family history, darling, just tell me how close the two of you are. This close?" Flavia slid her hand up a naked thigh.

"Oooh, don't! How do you expect me to be serious when you're doing that to me?"

"Okay. Hands off. Now how close?"

"Well, uh, close enough, I think. I used to get her pussy a little when we were younger. But there was never any real cuntlapping or anything like that. How could there be? - I didn't even know about that sort of thing until I met you."

"I see. Close - but you're not sure if she's gay, is that it, Stephanie?"

"Uh-huh. That's about it. Only I figured one of your wild friends would take over and teach her the facts of life. With so many hungry lesbians on board..."

"No. That mustn't happen. The wrong pass from the wrong woman would upset her - and then where would we be? June would go home and tell all kinds of ugly tales about us; don't you see the possibility of that?"

"I - I guess so. But what else can we do? She's bound to catch on sooner or later, isn't she?"

"True. We're all in the same boat, if I may coin a phrase. June has to be brought out - and right away. As you said, darling, someone will have to teach her the facts of life. Only it can't be just anyone, I'm afraid, since we're all strangers to her. All except you. Do you get what I'm driving at?"

"You - you want me to do it?"

"Exactly. Who else can? It's the only safe way. Then if she turns out to be difficult, it will be all in the family, at least. June won't tell tales on you, will she?"

"No, she wouldn't squeal. But - but what about you, Flavia? Won't you be jealous? Jealous about June and me?"

"Of course I'll be jealous - a little bit, anyway. You're my own sweet darling girl and I don't like the idea of anybody else having you. But for the good of all concerned, that's a sacrifice we'll both have to make."

"Well... all right. I'll do it. I wish I knew how, though. I wish I could be more sure of myself. I can't just force her; June is much stronger than I am. She's pretty, but she's got muscles like a boy. She was always good at tennis and swimming and even touch football - a real tomboy. Sometimes I'm actually scared of her. We were wrestling once and - "

"Don't let it bother you, darling. You'll figure out a way to get to her. Pet her pussy, perhaps - only don't do it like a child, do it as if you really mean it. Just get a finger inside her cunt - that's the main thing. Get her hot. Get her sizzling hot and then do what comes naturally. And pretty soon she'll be begging for more, you'll see."

"I - I hope it works."

"Stephanie, that's no way to talk. It's the wrong attitude. Be bold; just take matters in your own hands. Like this..." Flavia made a sudden gesture. "Feel it? Feel my finger in your cunt? Feel how it hits the little button?"

"Flavia... oooh!"

"Aren't you hot? Didn't I tell you? That's all it takes, darling - just do it without hesitating."

"I - I'm hot. I'm burning up. Oh, I love it, I love it - but don't stop. I need it now. Everything. Your mouth. Please suck me, Flavia, please suck my cunt or I'll die!"

"No, dear." Reluctantly, regretfully, Flavia ended her intimate caress. "I do want to eat your pretty pussy, believe me, but taking care of your cousin is more important - and this is the time for it. While you're hot, go to her and - "

"She's probably asleep. Please, Flavia, don't tease me. I'll start working on June tomorrow. Just give me some tongue, huh? You know how I love it. Suck me, suck me - please?"

"Go work on June right now. Wake her up if she's sleeping. But get it done, darling, or I'll be worried sick. Now go. Do it right and you'll never have to ask me to suck you again. I'll make love to your hot little cunt until the ship docks; I'll give you more than you've ever had."

"Oh... you're so mean..."

"Like your mother? A mean old bitch?" Flavia chuckled. "Get going, sweetheart. Before I change my mind - and then we'll both be sorry. Please? For me?"

"Well..."

But the proper phrases had been spoken, and without further protest the little red-haired bundle of femininity dressed and set off on her mission. Flavia watched the darling child leave and then raised her hand and sniffed her fingertip, the one that had so aptly demonstrated the art of lesbian seduction. She kissed it. Licked it with her tongue. Took it between her lips and sucked it, relishing the precious taste and feeling the excitement mount within her. Too bad she had to send the kid away, damn the luck, but it was the only prudent course of action.

And as for being jealous, hmm, was it possible? She did feel an emotional attachment, she had to admit. There were damn few cunts that she considered worth sucking - and sweet Stephanie kept popping into her mind even when her body was being attended to by other lovers.

That was a bad sign, in a way. It didn't pay to get too deeply involved with anyone, much less a child. But it was fun though - and she had originally planned this cruise to facilitate the budding affair. It was depressing, really, to think of darling Stephanie going off to seduce her cousin.

But what the hell, that was how it had to be - and there were ways of curing any depression. On this ship, dozens of ways. There were so many tongues hanging out for her, so many mouths eager to please the hostess.

Hmm, let's see... Rosemary? No, that would be something of a chore. Rosemary was a phony and hadn't been truly reduced to slavery yet. She was still in the foot-kissing stage and had a long way to go before she could qualify as a genuinely enthusiastic cuntlapper. Rosemary needed instruction and plenty of it - and Flavia didn't feel up to playing the domineering bitch-goddess at the moment. No, what she desired was comfort now, the soothing comfort of a tried-and-true adoring lover.

Besides, it was late and she didn't care to interrupt someone else's scene. She could always summon Leda, of course, poor naive Leda who was one of her favorite friends and acted so imperious most of the time but had a hidden masochistic streak in her. Leda would come a-running. But that too would be less than comfortable and could even be boring after a while. No, it was better to stick close to home.

Flavia raised her voice. "Vestal?"

Magically, as if materializing instantly out of thin air, "You called, Madame?"

"Yes, dear. I need you."

"Of course, Madame. What is your pleasure?"

"Nothing special. Just a nice gentle nibble."

"Gladly, Madame. It makes me happy. I thought you would be with the little red-haired one all night."

"Uh, no, something came up. But no matter. I still have you, don't I? I always have my faithful Vestal."

"Always..."

Ah yes, it was nice to have faithful Vestal around to perform the necessary services. Vestal of the unswerving loyalty and the expert tongue. Mmm, such a skilled tongue!

"Oh... good, good..."

"Madame?"

"Yes, there, my dear, right there. But I don't have to tell you, do I? You always know exactly how to do it. And you love it too, don't you? You love my cunt?"

"With all my heart, Madame. And with my mouth and lips and tongue, I love your beautiful cunt. Mmm..."

Flavia stirred in rapturous contentment, enjoying the spoken compliments and the lingual caresses at the same time. She marveled at how the solicitous maid could be burrowing inside her cunt and still go on murmuring sweet flattery. Only it wasn't just flattery either, no, Vestal meant every word of it. If ever a servant girl truly loved her mistress...

"Come in my mouth, Madame."

"Soon... soon... greedy little piglet. And then you'll put the light out and let me sleep, hmm?"

"Mmm... yes... mmm..."

No, there was nothing like the comfort of Vestal. Regardless of the numerous passing affairs, Flavia knew she couldn't do without her maid who was so much more than a maid. Stephanie was an amusing little darling, but that would be over at the end of the cruise - while Vestal would go on forever. Dear, attentive Vestal with the mercurial tongue that defied all known laws of perpetual motion. Diligent, dependable Vestal who would swallow her love and lick her to sleep and then tiptoe out quietly, quietly...

-=5=-

Sleep was elusive, and June thrashed about on her bed and wondered what was happening to her. What was she doing among all these weird women? She didn't belong here. And yet, much as she hated to admit it, she felt more curious than resentful.

She knew they were lezzies, of course; she had spotted it the very first day at sea. A whole boatload of lesbians. And she had been irked at first, realizing that Stephanie must have been playing some sort of trick on her. But she had deliberately kept her peace, postponing the showdown with her cousin until she was sure of her ground. It would have been silly to go off half-cocked and create a fuss, especially since the ship was like a private little world, inescapable as a prison. So she had simply bided her time and waited for Stephanie to open up and explain.

But no explanation had been forthcoming, and in the meantime her initial annoyance had worn off to the point where she felt peeved only because she was being neglected. It wasn't fair of Stephanie to leave her alone so much. They had come on the cruise together and were rooming together and should have been having fun together. Not lesbian fun, of course, since June had no intention of getting involved that way, although she couldn't help but recognize that her cousin had gay tendencies. And more than just tendencies, too, considering how much time she spent with that Flavia woman who was obviously the leader of the pack. Even now, at this late hour, Stephanie was -

"June? Still awake?"

"Oh. Hi, Stephanie." She tried to sound casually nonchalant. "I'm not very sleepy. I wasn't really expecting you, but I'm glad you're here. Let's stay up and talk awhile, huh?"

"Sure, honey. Good idea. But how come you weren't expecting me? This is my cabin as well as yours, you know."

"Uh-huh. But you're not in it very often. Not that I'm complaining, mind you, but I do think you ought to say hello to your long-lost cousin once in a while."

"Yeah. You're right. Okay, I'm saying hello. Only I've decided to do more than just that. Junie, it's about time you learned the facts of life - and I'm going to teach them to you. Do you know what I'm talking about?"

"I - I've got a hunch. A damn good hunch. You want to tell me about Flavia and all these queer broads?"

"Tell you, hell, I'm going to show you."

"Huh? Stephanie, you're putting me on. You know I don't go in for that kind of crap."

"Don't hand me that shit, baby. You and I used to have our little moments, remember? It was just kid-stuff then, but now we're both old enough to do it right. Or at least I'm old enough - and I hope you are."

"Age has nothing to do with it. I'm just no lesbian. It's okay with me if you are, but that doesn't mean - "

"No lesbian, eh? How do you know if you don't experiment a little? June, aren't you even curious?"

The word struck a responsive chord. Curious. June felt a tremor of excited apprehension race the length of her spine. Yes, dammit, curiosity had its hook into her, a barbed hook that wouldn't let go. Why else had she lost resentment? Why else had she delayed getting into a hassle over it? But she still wasn't quite ready to surrender her scruples.

"Sure, I'm curious. Wouldn't anybody be? But forget about the experimenting bit, Stephanie, just tell me about it. Fill me in on the details so that I can understand what's going on. No action, for God's sake, please - just talk."

"S'matter? Got a case of conscience? Afraid you might like it too much?"

"Afraid? Oh, come now, don't be ridiculous. I'm certainly not afraid of anything you can do."

"No? Glad to hear it. Then it won't bug you if I fool around a little just to see how it goes. I've got a feeling you're daring me - and I'm taking you up on it. One way or the other, we'd better get this thing straightened out between us."

In the darkness, June heard the rustle of garments being discarded. She smelled perfume and wondered why it suddenly seemed so sexy to her. Was the accusation true? Was she afraid? If so, she might as well try the experiment just to prove she wasn't vulnerable. To prove it to Stephanie - and more important, to prove it to herself.

The mattress sagged under the added weight. Stephanie was in bed with her. In bed - naked. Without actually touching in any way, a kind of radiating warmth told June that her cousin had stripped completely.

"Stephanie, I - I wish you wouldn't. We'll probably be ashamed of ourselves tomorrow."

"So what? Tomorrow can take care of itself." A hand moved, making a grazing contact. "Damn! What are you wearing, pajamas? How the hell can anybody sleep all bundled up like that? Get rid of the stupid things."

"N-no. I'm used to them."

But the hand was still moving, plucking at buttons, pulling, tugging, and June could see no way of stopping it without putting up a physical fight. And how could she fight with her cousin, her favorite cousin, how could she fight with sweet little Stephanie? After all, it was merely an experiment.

The pajamas came off and were tossed aside. The hand became less businesslike; it glided lightly now - and June's body tensed as it slid over her breasts. But she made no effort to push it away. It felt so sexy.

"Hey, you've got a great pair of tits, you know that? They're really solid. You're lucky. You've got the kind of titties that won't ever get flabby."

It was apparently meant as a sincere compliment, and June could only appreciate the thought. But she couldn't speak up and say so. She could scarcely breathe, much less talk. A thousand crazy notions were at war inside her skull, making her head spin around and around. Her nipples were stiff with unwanted desire, and those maddening fingers just wouldn't quit.

Then, abruptly, they did quit - and her gasp of relief was tinged with disappointment. But the relief didn't last as long as the hand slipped down over her trembling belly. Nor was she disappointed either, now that she knew where the fingers were going. She could hardly wait for them to get there. Her legs spread apart as if they were out of control.

There was a touch. A flick of the finger. Then a sharp stabbing sensation, and June moaned through her desperately clenched teeth. She didn't want to feel like this. It was wrong, terribly wrong, and if she had any sense at all she would haul off and slap Stephanie's face and tell her to go fuck herself. If she had any sense. If she could only force herself to think of those fingers as just pieces of -

"So soft. Soft and wet. And hot, too. I'm going to be good to you, Junie. A cunt like yours deserves the best. Mmm, such a nice hot cunt."

"Oh. Please..."

"You like? You like my fingers in your pussy? Hold still. Feel it. Feel it right there!"

June shuddered mutely, aware that an answer was being demanded of her but incapable of giving it. Her flesh throbbed in rhythm to the probing fingertip. She was supposed to lie still - and she really wanted to, even if only to show that her resistance hadn't been broken down. But her body betrayed her; it heaved upward from the bed and strived with a will of its own to surround that finger and suck it in. The finger and all the other fingers, the whole hand - everything. She needed it.

Then, unexpectedly, Stephanie kissed her on the mouth. Right smack on the mouth. Hot and sexy, the way a boy kisses a girl. Protest seemed futile now, and June let her lips go soft and yielding and pliant, allowing the forceful tongue to poke between them and then shoot in deep. Once inside, it felt so exciting that she simply had to permit it to wriggle and dart and lick all around in a deep, deep soul-kiss. And pretty soon her own tongue joined in the fun.

When the kiss ended, June was gasping for breath. But then, immediately, the gasp became a wail as the fingers took on new life and went wild down there. It was a wail of agony that turned into ecstasy as the momentary pain changed to enduring but almost unendurable pleasure. Her body felt open to the thrust of the thick thumb - and near it, although she couldn't understand where or how, a slim finger was doing something that -

"You like that, Junie? In your cunt and your asshole at the same time? It turns you on, huh? Like I'm fucking you in front and in back, right?"

And as the thumb and finger performed their strange miracle, Stephanie talked and talked and told her what a great cruise it was going to be and what fun they would have and how lucky they were to be such close cousins - and June could only bite her lips and moan and try to make up her mind whether the experiment was a success or a failure. Either way, she didn't want it to end. Not for a long time.

-=6=-

No two females could have been more different. Myrtle was plump and elderly, with soft white skin that made her seem almost babyish. Brenda was well-knit and muscular, and her complexion and over-all coloration had a darkness that one suspected might be other than Caucasian in origin. The wealthy society matron and the hard-hustling whore, so far apart in so many ways - and yet they had much in common.

Or so they were finding out. They sat and sipped tall drinks in Myrtle's sumptuous stateroom, both aware that they were achieving a meeting of the minds. It had not been planned that way, it had just come about naturally when Camille excused herself to take a bath and luxuriate in the huge tub. She wanted to soak for hours, she said, and it was the first opportunity since embarkation that Myrtle and Brenda had found to be alone together.

Now they conversed like chums, chatting with one another as social equals rather than as employer and employee.

"I'm glad," Brenda was saying. "I figured you'd understand, but I wasn't really sure. If you had insisted, though, I'd have tried to go through with it. You were so generous about the money that I couldn't have done otherwise."

"Money. Ugh! Don't mention that ugly word, my dear. From now on we'll just forget that part of our relationship, shall we? And as for my insisting on the original agreement, I knew right away it wouldn't work. You're just no slave girl. Quite the contrary, in fact."

"True. I was willing to play the role, Myrtle, but it would have been a pretty poor performance at best."

"So I gathered after seeing how you handled Camille. She's a real one, though, isn't she?"

"As real as they come. A slave girl from the word go." Brenda chuckled wryly. "And they don't hardly make that kind no more - if you'll forgive the cornball expression. Camille thrives on degradation and humiliation."

"Fine, fine. But will she accept it from me?" Myrtle's beady eyes glittered. "She's so beautiful. Simply ravishing. Up till now I've been very gentle with her - deliberately so - just so we could get accustomed to each other. But it's time we changed all that, isn't it?"

"It's time. And you were smart about it, I must say, smart not to rush things. Your patience will be rewarded - and you can start collecting whenever you care to. Tonight, if you'd like. The minute she gets out of the tub, even."

"Oh? So soon? Brenda, do you think it's wise? I'd like to, of course, but I'm still somewhat doubtful. The girl is so much in love with you..."

"I know. But that's no obstacle, since she'll do whatever I tell her to. I'll speak to her and put her in the proper frame of mind for you. Don't worry, she'll be a meek little lamb by the time I'm through with her. But then it might be better if I left the two of you alone. Otherwise she'll be looking to me for orders instead of to you."

"That sounds like good judgment, Brenda. But what about you? Where will you go? After all, the two of you are living here with me - and I can't just throw you out."

"I'll manage. As a matter of fact, I've got a tentative date to go for a moonlight stroll around the deck. It's not certain, but I guess I can locate the chick and stay away from here for a few hours."

"A date? Anybody interesting?"

"Could be. A girl named Rosemary, kind of a mousy brown-haired thing - but with a pretty good body. I'm not sure, but I think she's a real submissive type. Anyway, it'll be fun to pressure her a little and see how she reacts."

"Rosemary. Oh yes, Flavia told me about her - and she has definite possibilities, from what I heard. But where did you meet her? How did you get together?"

"At the pool. The weather was lousy, but I went in for a dip anyway. That was all right, wasn't it? About using the pool, I mean - I hope I didn't break any rules. A yacht with a swimming pool - imagine. It's absolutely terrific."

"There are no rules. Use the pool as much as you like. But does Rosemary know anything about you? You didn't tell her how you came to be on board, did you?"

"No. We just met casually; she has no idea what I'm doing here. She probably thinks I'm one of Flavia's rich buddies. She was pretty damn respectful, all right, as I recall it."

"Good. Keep her that way. Maybe you can break her in for our kind of fun, hmm?"

"It should be easy, Myrtle - unless she finds out that I'm just one of the hired help. Except for that, I'll bet I could have her licking my ass in no time."

"Why should she find out? Brenda, I want you to consider yourself my guest. Just forget that you're working for me. We're sharing a stateroom together and Camille is our slave girl - that's all Rosemary has to know. That's all anybody has to know. There now, does that simplify the issue?"

"I'll say. That's great. Hey, I'm sure going to enjoy this cruise. Thanks, Myrtle, thanks for making everything so nice for me. I'm truly grateful. And if ever I can do something to repay you, just name it."

"Oh, you don't have to repay me. You're already doing enough by giving me Camille. Of course, if you'd like to do the same thing with Rosemary, I'd appreciate it." Myrtle simpered coyly. "Once you've got her licking your ass there's no reason why she shouldn't lick mine, is there?"

"It's a deal. As soon as she's ripe, I'll turn her over to you. Mmm, we do have the same kicks, don't we? Okay, you can have Camille and I'll get you Rosemary - and if there are any more prospective ass-lickers on board I'll see what I can do about that too. You're doing me a big favor - and one good turn deserves another. You want a lot of strange new tongues up your asshole? Okay. Just leave it to me."

"You're a dear. Oh, it's exciting just to think about it. But right now it's Camille that I want. Will you go get her ready for me?"

"Can do. Give me a couple of minutes alone with her and she's all yours. And you needn't be afraid to show your authority. I'm guaranteeing strict obedience."

Brenda went into the bathroom. Myrtle waited. The two of them were different and yet so much alike. Brenda's voice sounded sharply from behind the closed door. Myrtle gulped her drink and fidgeted in nervous anticipation. And when Brenda came out and left the stateroom a few moments later, they exchanged farewell winks that were rife with mutual complicity. As if both had but one thing on their minds. As if each knew that she had found a friend who shared her own personal tastes. As if the winks alone - just wordless winks - were enough for total understanding. As if they had joined forces with the sole object of turning every possible prospect on the good ship Lollipop into a thoroughly conquered abject ass-licking slave...

Out of the tub Camille peered at her pale reflection in the mirror and wondered why she didn't feel sick to her stomach. There was a fluttering sensation inside her, but she recognized it as more excited than queasy. Because of Brenda, more than likely, because of the way Brenda had spoken to her. And because of the taste of Brenda's ass on her lips. The taste that had been short and sweet, just enough to make her hunger for more. More of the same.

But more of the same meant Brenda's ass, not anyone else's. Or did it? Oh, it was all such a puzzlement! Camille thought of the fat woman waiting out there for her and was mystified by her own ambiguous mood. After what Brenda had told her to do, it seemed impossible that she should accept the situation so placidly. Even willingly, to some extent, although that was probably a delusion left in the wake of Brenda's parting gesture, the teasing swish of her ass that was like a promise of delights to come - if the command was carried out to her satisfaction. Or to Myrtle's satisfaction rather, since that was what it entailed. Oh, that Brenda! She was so clever.

The robe on the hook was a temptation - a pretense of modesty, at least - but Camille remembered her orders and left it hanging there. Naked but oddly unembarrassed, she went through the doorway. Clad in a negligee, Myrtle lay upon the big bed; she glanced up and simpered happily and wriggled out of the garment in a hurry. She was fat, all right, but Camille made the observation without any sense of disgust. Fat, skinny, beautiful, ugly; what difference did it make? She was only doing it to please Brenda. To gain and keep Brenda's approval. To earn the fulfillment of that parting promise.

"You look lovely, my dear." Myrtle's eyes glistened in admiration. "Absolutely stunning."

The compliment helped. "Thank you." Camille raised her arms high and revolved slowly in a seductive maneuver, becoming more and more aware of the hot gaze feasting upon her nude flesh. It was nice to be appreciated, even if only by someone who meant nothing to her. She was proud of her body. She wished Brenda would say things like that more often. In a way, the fat woman was really rather sweet. Sweet enough to enjoy simply for the sake of -

No! Camille felt a pang of contrition at such a disloyal notion entering her mind. That thing on the bed was merely an impersonal hunk of meat who represented a means of pleasing her one true love. Brenda, I'm doing it for you! "Beautiful," the woman murmured. "Simply ravishing..."

Camille approached the bed and sank to her knees. "I'm your beautiful slave girl." She pressed her lips to a thick thigh. "I am yours to command." She closed her eyes and waited. The order would come now. The order to worship that plump ass. And she was already enslaved by it, enslaved by its imminence, enslaved by the excitement of it, enslaved by the ass itself. Enslaved by her own need.

"Come, darling. Up here with me."

It was the wrong order. Hardly an order at all, just a near-plaintive request. Didn't the woman know anything? But obedience was still required, and Camille came out of her crouch and clambered up on the bed. Then, with startling suddenness, she was flipped over upon her back and that great hulk of flesh was poised above her, the enormous buttocks quivering and lowering and settling; she groaned in fear, in rage, in disgust, but the clutching fingers in her hair held her head motionless as the fat ass engulfed her face.

How awful! How could she worship like this, how could she make love, how could she even breathe? All that flabby meat on her face, smothering her - ugh!

"Tongue it, you beautiful bitch. Kiss my ass. Tongue my ass. Suck my ass. Give me your tongue - right up my asshole!"

If she had ever known a worse moment in her life, Camille couldn't recall it. But even out of self-preservation, she had to fulfill those vile demands or the great weight would crush her to death. So she did it, kissing and sucking and tonguing and feeling the nasty asshole squirming to her touch and rolling around on her nose and mouth and cheeks and using her, just using her, using her as if there was no such thing as love or beauty or the thrill of worship. The thing squashing her face was no longer an ass, it was just meat, fat meat slobbering all over her, slobbering the spit from her own aching mouth. And the words pierced her brain again - Brenda, I'm doing it for you - but this time they offered no solace in her tortured mind. All she felt was hatred. She even hated Brenda.

-=7=-

Finding something to keep her amused turned out to be no problem for Brenda. As anticipated, Rosemary was available and eager for a stroll around the deck. Pathetically eager, actually, since the girl seemed alone and practically friendless. Rosemary's sojourn on the good ship Lollipop was apparently falling short of her expectations.

Side by side, they paced the deck slowly, their hands touching and then clasping as if it was only the natural thing to do. The afternoon clouds had passed by, and an enormous moon appeared to be rising out of the ocean itself. A mild breeze skimmed the waves and tickled their cheeks lightly. From some distant stateroom, a hi-fi unit played languorous music. The atmosphere was definitely romantic.

"This is nice..." A soft sigh underscored Rosemary's meaning. "Brenda, I don't know why - and I'm even a little embarrassed to say it - but you're the first person I've met on board that I can feel comfortable with."

"Don't be embarrassed." Brenda spoke gently and yet with a deliberate hint of authority in her tone. "Don't ever be embarrassed with me. I like you. It's true that we scarcely know each other, but I don't want you to feel as if we're strangers. I don't feel that way myself."

"I - I'm so glad. Thanks for saying it. I haven't admitted this to anyone else, but I've been terribly lonesome so far. I guess I don't really belong here."

"Oh? But you're Flavia's guest, aren't you? Why should you be lonesome?"

"Guest. Oh sure..." Rosemary shrugged sadly. "She treats me more like some kind of servant. A slave, practically. Flavia can be awfully nasty at times."

"You poor thing. Is she mean to you? Honey, I'm not prying into your affairs, but I've got a sympathetic ear if you feel like letting your hair down."

"Well, uh... oh, I suppose it's all right; I do want to be truthful with you. I acted a bit phony when I first met Flavia and now she's taking advantage of it. The fault was mine, so I can't really blame her. Anyway, I won't try to put on an act with you, Brenda. I've learned my lesson."

"Hey, that sounds mysterious. What's it all about? In what way were you phony?"

"It wasn't much. I kind of played up to her, that's all. I did it for a reason, of course; it was because I wanted to get invited on the cruise. But the way Flavia carries on, you'd think I'd gone and committed some unforgivable sin."

"Uh-huh. I'm beginning to understand. But it's still a bit dark to me. What was your reason? Just why is this cruise so important to you?"

"Well, it's nothing to be ashamed of even if Flavia did make me feel that way. I'm in show business, Brenda. I sing and dance and I've played bit parts in television and on the stage. But I've never made it big yet - and every girl in my position keeps trying for the one break that will lead to success. So when I heard that Topaz - uh, you know Topaz Markowitz, the woman who backs all those Broadway shows? - but of course you do. Anyway, that was the contact I hoped for. I figured Topaz could give me that break. So I was extra nice to Flavia and got the invitation I wanted, but a hell of a lot of good it's doing me. I've only seen Topaz once and she was all wrapped up with that friend of hers, the skinny one named Geraldine. And a little girl with reddish hair; Daphne, I think her name is. They're involved in some kind of threesome and there just isn't room for anybody else." Rosemary squeezed Brenda's hand affectionately. "Some confession, huh? I did let my hair down."

Brenda returned the pressure automatically, her mind busy with the details of the cheerless girl's predicament. The mention of Daphne had simplified the situation somewhat. So the little pink-cheeked hooker was connected with Topaz. Fine. Daphne was a good-hearted kid who could always be called upon for a favor - and Brenda intended doing just that.

"Be patient, honey. The trip is just beginning. I'm sure I can work something out for you. I won't make any promises, but if it's merely a matter of getting together with Topaz..." Brenda's voice trailed off on an auspicious note.

"Oh? Could you help me? I'd be ever so grateful. Flavia just isn't interested. All she cares about is herself."

"Well, there's a difference. For one thing, you've been honest with me; you're asking for my help without trying to con me into it. Besides, I'm not like Flavia - except that I care about myself, too, if you know what I mean."

"Oh..."

"Rosemary?"

"I - I understand. But you didn't even have to say it. I like you very much. If you want to take me to bed, well, that's what this cruise is all about, isn't it?"

"Good girl. Only I'd rather you didn't do it out of gratitude, honey. Just do it because you want to. Or better yet, because you want me."

"You're right. And I do want you. Say the word and I'll go to bed with you right now."

"You feel sexy, huh?"

"I just feel good, Brenda. You make me feel good. Won't you take me to bed? Please?"

"Hmm, you beg so nicely. I like that. But there's a little problem, I'm afraid. I told my friend Myrtle she could have our stateroom tonight. We've got a slave girl, you know - have you met Camille? - well, anyway, the two of them have plans of their own and I just can't barge in and spoil their fun. There are some things that should only be done in privacy."

"You - you have a slave girl, too? I should have known. All of Flavia's friends seem to go in for that sort of thing."

"Well, we're a pretty wild bunch, I'll admit. Yes, I like that kind of fun. But don't worry, I'm not going to make any demands of you. Not unless you..." Brenda's fingers loosened the clasp and she slipped her arm around Rosemary's waist. "Let's just play it by ear, shall we? Look at that moon. It's positively gorgeous tonight."

"Uh-huh. Beautiful." Then, after a moment, "Brenda, it's all right. I'm not afraid. I won't mind. I - I think I'd really like being your slave girl."

"Would you? And I'd like it, too, darling. But there's no hurry. Slow and sweet and romantic, that's the way to go about it. Besides, I'm not quite sure if you're the type. I can't do it with just anybody, you know."

"Oh..." Rosemary's lower lip trembled and her voice came out choked. "I - I'm sorry. I didn't mean to - "

"Hush, dear. And do forgive me. I've hurt your feelings. You're not just anybody - and it was cruel of me to even say such a thing. Come now, cheer up. Hey, I've got an idea! Let's go for a moonlight swim in the pool."

"A swim? You mean now? But we'd have to get our suits and change, and you said something about not wanting to go back and barge in on your - "

"Suits? The hell with 'em. Take a look. The pool is deserted; there isn't a soul around. Honey, we'll swim bare-ass. Come on. Last one in is a rotten egg."

Brenda's enthusiasm was infectious; it left no room for inhibitions and Rosemary giggled and came out of her doldrums. They raced to the edge of the sparkling water and stripped off their clothing hastily. Eager to show her new friend that she too could be a spur-of-the-moment fun-girl, Rosemary won the race and plunged in first. The water was deliciously cool and she shuddered rapturously, overwhelmed by the daring notion of swimming naked in full view of any passerby. And even more excited by the thought of this wonderful friendship. She liked Brenda so much! And she was determined to make it last - purely for the joy of it, if not for the possibility of its paving the way to the big break that she sought. Although that was certainly important, too, and she couldn't afford to let such an opportunity slip through her fingers.

Floating on her back, Rosemary glanced up and was struck by the sight of Brenda's body. Poised on the concrete lip of the pool, the dark creature was simply glorious, a picture of delightfully rippling muscles without an ounce of superfluous fat on her. Almost boyish, really, but still gracefully feminine. Brenda's breasts jutted amazingly; they were the kind that required no brassiere to keep them lifted. But it was the black patch of hair that caught Rosemary's eye, the hair at the juncture of those magnificently molded legs.

The cunt-hair. Rosemary's heart swelled as she stared and recognized the effect it was having upon her. She would suck that cunt tonight. But not like with Flavia, no, she would do it because of her own desire. It wouldn't be an act, it would be real. She wanted to suck that cunt. Yes, and like a slave, too. If only Brenda would have her.

Brenda's dive was breathtakingly perfect. And then they were together, treading water and embracing and warming each other with their bodies. Brenda kissed her, and Rosemary quivered in ecstasy as their tongues entwined and she felt slippery fingers exploring her flesh. She hoped it pleased them, those inquisitive fingers, she prayed fervently that they would be satisfied with what they found. And when a firm palm cupped her cunt approvingly, there was a hot sensation inside her - as if she were literally bursting with unalloyed pleasure.

Still kissing, they stopped kicking their feet. They sank and let the dark water swirl over them. But their lungs gave out and they were forced to break apart and struggle to the moonlit surface. A few short strokes took them to the ladder. Gasping breathlessly, Rosemary grabbed it and leaned back into Brenda's encircling arm. In the cool water, the contact of skin against skin was heavenly. Rosemary wriggled her bottom against the tuft of hair, rubbing the cheeks of her ass back and forth upon Brenda's cunt. It was exciting. Like a hot flame springing to life down there between them. She wondered how long she would have to wait before the flame would be doused. It would take more than just the water in the pool, she knew.

"My turn," Brenda murmured.

"Hmm? Oh..."

"Uh-huh. Like that. I have a sensitive fanny. You might not think so, considering the muscles."

"It's nice. I love it."

And she did. She truly loved it and she wrapped her arms around Brenda and held her solid breasts for support and ground her throbbing pussy into Brenda's ass. It was just as thrilling as it had been before they switched positions. Maybe even more so. Rosemary's cunt was like an open gash trying to stuff itself with the hard flesh of those jutting buttocks. Even more inspiring was Brenda's obvious response to the furious caress; yes, she did have a sensitive fanny. Despite her excitement, Rosemary made a mental notation of it. Everyone was different, everybody got pleasure in different ways. She was glad to have made such a significant discovery.

"Hey, that gets me hot. Hot enough to..."

"Hmm? Brenda?"

"You know. I'm ready for you now. " 

"Me too. Ready for anything."

"Spoken like a true slave girl." Brenda laughed and started climbing the ladder.

Clambering up behind her, Rosemary couldn't tear her gaze away and almost lost her grip and tumbled back in. But she managed to regain her footing without once shifting her eyes away from that awesome body. Hips swaying slightly, Brenda padded around to the corner where there was a convenient storage bin of mats and blankets and towels. Jewels of moisture glistened on her dark skin. She hauled out a mat and a blanket and a pair of big towels, tossing one to Rosemary and starting to dry her hair with the other.

Rosemary's hair was dripping wet. She raised the towel to her head. But it didn't seem right, somehow, and suddenly she knew why. Would a slave girl attend herself first? Of course not. And with a pounding heart asking strange questions and giving stranger answers, she knelt down and dried the liquid droplets from Brenda's feet. One after the other, she ran the towel over the toes and arches and insteps as each foot was lifted to allow her the freedom to work.

"How sweet. Rosemary, you're a darling."

"Like a true slave girl?"

"Well... almost..."

"Tell me what to do."

"Just what you're doing, my dear. Keep drying me. All over. And if you feel the surge to sneak a little kiss..." Brenda was still fussing with her hair. "Don't be bashful."

"Who's bashful? But the moon is so bright. What if someone sees us? Doesn't the crew make the rounds now and then?"

"Hmm, you've got a point there. Let's see now..." Brenda stooped down abruptly and picked up the blanket. When she straightened up, her voice had an imperious ring that sounded like music to Rosemary's ears. "Continue, you sweet thing. And never mind anyone else. Just pay attention to me."

The visual impact faded, but under the dark intimate cover of the draped blanket all of Rosemary's other senses became more active. Especially the tingling in her lips, now that she could use them without being seen. Each new movement of the towel was followed by a kiss. She spent a long time on the firm-fleshed calves and thighs. When she reached the patch of hair that had fascinated her earlier, she just couldn't let the towel have the honor of drying it - and she lowered her hands and sipped the clinging moisture with her lips. Brenda's body twitched and Rosemary took it as a sign of approbation; immediately the sipping changed to a sucking kiss. Kneeling there, Rosemary planned on spending a long, long time.

But it didn't work out that way. The blanket shook a little but remained in place as Brenda swung around. "My back too, darling. Aren't you going to do my back?"

"Oh. Sorry..." Rosemary raised the towel again.

"I'm sensitive there. Remember?"

Rosemary's temples throbbed, matching the beat of the quaking pit of her belly. How stupid of her! In all this excitement she had forgotten what she should have remembered. She hoped she could think clearly so that she wouldn't have to be reminded again. A slave girl was supposed to keep track of such things without having her memory prodded.

She dropped the towel, letting go of it this time so that she had her hands free. She would need them. Because her tongue wasn't quite long enough; she could lap up the moisture just so far and no farther, at least not without assistance from her hands. Both hands. Pulling the hills apart gently, ever so gently, so that her tongue might -

"Oooh, I like that!"

"Mmmm?"

"Now you really are a slave girl; oh yes, I love the way you lick my ass. All the way, my sweet slave - show me what a good ass-licker you are."

The words crashed into Rosemary's brain. For an instant they forced her to think even more clearly than she wanted to. She almost wished they hadn't been spoken. And yet the words were true, terribly true, yes, she was actually licking a woman's ass. It was something she had never done before. Flavia hadn't demanded it of her - but this wasn't Flavia, nor was it just a woman, it was Brenda, wonderful Brenda, and the moment of truth was really a moment of joy.

"Your tongue, slave. Deep in my asshole."

Under the darkness of the blanket, Rosemary uttered a small whimper that was nothing more than an utterance of compliance. And when the tiny noise was muffled between the parted buttocks, she accepted her role gratefully and with renewed fervor. I'm a good ass-licker. I'm a good slave. I'm a good ass-licking slave and I love it. I love it!

She wondered when Brenda would grow tired and sink down upon the mat. But it didn't matter. This was fine. In a way it made her feel even more like a devoted slave to remain on her knees like this and she was proud to be able to go on doing it. In an attitude of worship, almost. And wasn't it a privilege to worship such a glorious goddess?

More than a privilege. It was a blessing...

While above the kneeling figure, with the blanket clutched around her body in protective concealment, the glorious goddess congratulated herself on a good job well done. The tongue in her asshole was less than perfect, of course, but this wasn't the time for criticism, Brenda figured. That would come later. After all, the training of an ass-licker was a detailed procedure, not a one-night course. And it was apparent that Rosemary didn't have the natural talent for it that Camille had. Or the natural tongue, either. It would have to be exercised and stretched. It would require some patient tutoring.

Nevertheless, tonight was an excellent beginning. Brenda could hardly wait to tell Myrtle about it. Mmm, yes, Myrtle would be wild for some of it herself. And she would get it, too; she had it coming to her for being so nice. For being such a good friend. Myrtle was far from beautiful, but she made up for it in other ways - and Brenda couldn't help but be aware that their relationship might prove lasting. If she could break in a few more interesting ass-lickers to give Myrtle her jollies, it might even become a lifetime deal. As Myrtle's permanent procuress, she could have her own kicks and live in style - and that was sure as shit better than being a whore.

-=8=-

It was good news and yet it came almost as a disappointment to Rosemary. After the night of nude swimming - and those deliciously novel tongue caresses under the blanket! - she desired no one but Brenda. For sex, anyway, that was all she cared about, just more and more of the same - and only with the dark woman who had captivated her like a glorious goddess. Somehow the furtherance of her show-business career seemed less important now and she was quite willing to postpone her efforts in that direction. She even found herself wishing that she could simply forget it until some date in the distant future.

So she felt a momentary twinge of melancholia when Brenda brought the subject up and appeared so exhilarated about the arrangements she had made. Other women - Topaz included - no longer held much interest for love-smitten Rosemary. And the other woman involved wasn't even Topaz, although the proposed meeting was a stepping-stone along that particular pathway. In actuality, then, Brenda was doing a big favor by fulfilling what had only been a possibility and not even a promise. Brenda had promised nothing but was delivering just the same, and Rosemary felt ashamed of the way she was responding to this new development. And yet she just had to blurt out her innermost emotions. Even for the sake of harmony, she couldn't keep secrets from her beloved goddess.

Brenda smiled sympathetically but brushed it all aside with disdainful dispatch. "Honey, I'm flattered that you think so highly of me. But I knocked myself out to set this deal up for you. Listen, if you'd rather I just forgot the whole - "

"N-no. I'm sorry. Please forgive me. I know I should be grateful - and I am. It's just that - well, you know how I feel about you. I - I guess I have no right to expect you to feel the same way about me."

"I like you, Rosemary. You're a good slave and I do want to keep you. But you mustn't tie yourself down - and neither will I. That kind of possessive love could kill the joy of this cruise for both of us. Besides, there's your career to think of. I'm merely giving you the help you asked for. If you don't want it, just say so."

The truth hurt and it turned Rosemary abject. Especially since she detected rising anger in the tone of her benefactress, and that hurt even more. Humbly, she dropped to her knees and kissed Brenda's hand. Then, resting her cheek upon the lap of the woman she adored, she mumbled how sorry she was and begged to be forgiven.

"Okay, okay, I forgive you. And I'm glad we got it thrashed out between us. Because I've got other plans for you in case this one doesn't work out. About your career, I mean. Topaz is your best bet, I'll admit, but she isn't the only one. My friend Myrtle might do you some good."

"Oh? She has something to do with the theatre?"

"Well, not directly. But she owns a big block of stock in one of the major movie studios. Enough to get you a screen test, if you asked her in the right way. But that's just something for the future; I know your heart is set on the Broadway stage - so Topaz comes first. Or rather, Daphne comes first, since that's your means of gaining entry."

"A - a screen test in a major studio. Brenda, that sounds absolutely marvelous!"

"Don't get your hopes up. We'll save that for our last resort. Myrtle looks like a fat slob, but she's no pushover. You'd have to be awfully nice to her, if you understand what I mean. As a matter of fact, you'll have to be awfully nice to Daphne too, so forget about Myrtle for the present. One step at a time. Get yourself organized and go see Daphne with the right attitude, you hear me?"

"Of course. Just tell me what to do."

"Well, for one thing, Daphne is a hooker and she makes no pretenses about it - so you'd better understand that beforehand. Otherwise you might be in for a shock, once she starts talking about herself."

"A - a hooker. You mean a - a whore?"

"Uh-huh. Exactly that. Daphne is on board because she's been paid to - well, she's supposed to be accommodating, you might say. But don't let that change your attitude toward her. I want you to be respectful."

"But - but how can she help me?"

"Silly. She's the one person who can. Daphne is playing the slave girl to Topaz and Geraldine and they've practically made a pet out of her. She can get you in good with them. Better yet, she can teach you how to please Topaz best. Daphne knows plenty about sex in all its variations - and I'm sure Topaz has some special kicks that you ought to know. That's clear, isn't it?"

"Very clear, thanks. I'm to be respectful toward Daphne so that I can learn about Topaz, right?"

"That's it. And try not to goof it up. I was lucky to get Daphne to agree to see you. I met her at a swinging party some months ago and she remembered me, so I kind of talked her into giving you a boost, honey. Just play along with her and try not to foul it up, huh?"

"I will. When am I supposed to see her?"

"Right now. I'll steer you to her cabin. Some of the girls have been invited to Flavia's stateroom for cocktails, but Daphne was left out, so I know she'll be alone." Brenda glanced at her watch. "She'll be expecting you."

"Oh. Right now? Couldn't we... uh..."

"No. Don't keep Daphne waiting. And I'm supposed to meet Myrtle and Camille at Flavia's place myself. Still, I guess there's plenty of time for you to kiss me good-bye."

Rosemary beamed. "A special good-bye?"

"Sure. What else? The kind of good-bye that we'd better do right here." Brenda rose and unzipped her shorts, whirling around as she pushed the garment low on her thighs. "Here's my ass, you sweet slave girl. It's all yours."

"Your ass. Your beautiful ass. I love the beautiful ass of my beautiful - "

"Never mind the ritual. Just kiss it. The full treatment takes too long. Give me your hot tongue!"

And even if it had taken a thousand years, it seemed like fleeting seconds to Rosemary as she buried her face between the firm-fleshed buttock mounds and thrust her tongue into the asshole of her glorious goddess...

There was a storm brewing as Daphne got up to answer the knock on her door and admit her guest. She wasn't overly keen about the situation, but Brenda had asked for her help and they had been friends for a long time. Although it was sure difficult to think of Brenda as other than a whore like herself. Still, as long as Brenda seemed so insistent about it, Daphne didn't mind keeping her trap shut. Let Brenda have a good time while she had the chance. Sometimes a hooker needed a vacation, too, although Daphne was much too content with her own lot to worry about who was a prostitute and who wasn't. Anyway, it was no skin off her ass, one way or the other. And in the past - in their line of work - Brenda had done many a favor for her.

Drops of rain were falling as the brown-haired girl stood shyly in the doorway. "Come in, come in," Daphne said. "Pour yourself a drink. It's the least we can do, since we're not at Flavia's cocktail party."

"Thanks. I - I would like a drink."

"Help yourself, Rosemary. Don't stand on ceremony with me. I'm only a whore around this place. I'm paid to keep everybody happy. So enjoy, enjoy."

Rosemary smiled gratefully. "Thanks for being so frank right off the bat like that. It puts my mind at ease. But I really don't understand you, I must admit. You call yourself a whore as if you're proud of it."

"Oh shit, what's to understand? Sex is my bread and butter; it's the only thing I've got any talent for. So I sell my body, that's all. Brenda told me you were in show business - so aren't you selling yourself, too? Come now, admit it and you'll be better off. You're willing to be nice to Topaz just to get a break from her. Okay, I'll buy that. It's a good idea. But if that isn't whoring, what is?"

Lightning flashed and a clap of thunder roared. But the sudden change in the weather was scarcely greater than the change of expression on Rosemary's face. She looked as if the bolt had struck her on the spot.

"I'll be damned," she murmured at last. "Daphne, you're right. And how easy it all becomes once you look at it in the right way. Thanks for straightening me out. And as one whore to another, will you help me?"

"Of course. Brenda asked me to. And aside from that, you're a nice kid and I like you. First of all, you want to get in solid with Topaz, right?"

"Yes. That's it exactly."

"I can fix it. But you mustn't mention show business to her until you're positive that it's the time for it. You'll have to make love to her, you know. And maybe her buddy Geraldine too. They're always together."

"Just - just make love? That's all. Won't I have to act like a slave girl too?"

"We'll get around to that later. At this point it's mostly a matter of being good in bed, so that they'll ask you back. If you can't suck a cunt, that'll end the deal right then and there. Both of them demand the best."

"Oh. Hmm, I don't honestly know if I'm any good. I haven't really had much experience." Rosemary's tone turned resolute. "But that's what I'm here for. Will you teach me?"

"Just like that, huh? That's a big job, baby. You'll have to do it to me, you know. I can't think of any other way to make you learn. You want to eat me, kid?"

"I do, Daphne. Let me suck your cunt. And tell me if I'm doing anything wrong."

"Okay. Strip, sweetie." Daphne shed her robe in a hurry and fell back upon the bed. "Here it is. Pussy. Cunt. Look at it. Look at it and make yourself realize how important it is. Because for the next hour or so, there's going to be nothing else in the whole world but this. My cunt."

"Y-yes. Your cunt." Naked now, Rosemary crouched over Daphne's body. "It's beautiful. I'll suck it until you tell me to stop. Shall I begin?"

"Yeah. Now. Suck!" Then, a moment later, "Oh shit, baby, you do have a lot to learn. Don't attack it like you're fighting a war. Be gentle. Nice and peaceful."

"Umm... I'll try..."

"Better. But far from perfect. Hey, wait, look up a minute. Never mind my cunt; you're not ready for it yet."

"Hmm? What's the matter?"

"Stick out your tongue. Uh-huh. Now put it against my hand. Here. Between the fingers. Okay, make believe the space between my fingers is a cunt - and practice with your tongue. Try it soft and flat - kind of a lapping motion. Then pointed and stiff - like you're stabbing at the clittie button. Yeah. Good, good. You're getting the idea now."

"Is it - is it all right?"

"Uh-huh. Not bad."

"Then can I..."

"Huh?"

Rosemary's voice was plaintive. "Can I practice on your pussy instead of your hand?"

"Yeah. Go, girl. Go down on it."

"Mmmm... yes... your beautiful cunt..."

"Hey, now you've got it! Keep that up and I'll come right in your mouth. But then don't quit. I'll teach you how to lap it softly and bring me down easy. Topaz digs that."

"Teach me, teach me."

"You bet your fuckin' ass I'll teach you! Not just this but other things too. I'll teach you how to be a real hot sexy slave girl. I'll teach you how to - oooh! Now! Suck! Suck! I'm coming! I'm coming in your mouth! Gobble it! Gobble my cunt!"

-=9=-

The facts of life. Well, that was one way of learning them - and June was pretty certain what had brought the whole thing on. She was dodging Stephanie these days, and that gave her time to think and get adjusted to this new idea. Not that she had to do much actual dodging; no, Stephanie was usually chasing around after Flavia anyway. Apparently there were going to be no more passes, no more cousinly embraces, no more hand jobs that -

Damn! Just thinking about it was enough to turn her on. June sat up in bed restlessly, running nervous fingers through her cropped mop of dark curls. Okay, she might as well face the issue and meet it head-on. Stephanie had seduced her and then left her flat. It was a shitty thing to do, sure enough, and it made June feel like a screwed virgin. Worse yet, she had finally figured out the reason for the seduction and she didn't like it one bit. She had never been a blabbermouth. Did her cousin think she was going to squeal to the home folks and cause trouble just because she had been tricked into making this crazy cruise with a boatload of dykes? That hurt. Stephanie should have known better. A little confidential chat would have had the same effect as that goddam hand job. June shivered. The memory was still clear and it got her itchy way down deep, itchy for sex. Some hand job! - like a bowling ball, practically, a thumb in her cunt and a finger up her asshole. Kee-rist, what a sensation! Where did the clever little red-haired bitch ever learn such a wild gimmick?

Funny about that. Stephanie wasn't really clever. She was more the babyish type, not very bright at all, and in their past relationship she had always looked up to June as the leader. So that thumb and finger grip, bold and forceful, had come as a jolt in more ways than one. Stephanie had changed.

Or had she? Maybe it had simply been a stab in the dark. Stab. June winced at the thought. Stab and double-stab. Even now she could almost feel her cunt quiver and her asshole squirm - as if that hot little claw still had her in its predatory clutch. That stab in the dark had sure zeroed in on its mark; credit Stephanie with a double strike.

Credit the kid with self-confidence too, which was definitely something new in the picture. The stab just couldn't have been that accidental. Or that lucky, either; no, Stephanie had obviously known her way around. She had gained fresh confidence in herself, and no doubt because she fitted in with the lesbians and accepted her status as one of them.

Okay. But where does that leave me?

It was a tough question and June ransacked her brains for an answer. Like it or not, she was stuck on the ship until the end of the cruise. And considering the nature of the males on board - such faggoty creeps! - she was stuck without sex, without any fun even, unless she played by the local rules. She had to make the lez scene or none at all. And she was just too hot-blooded to cope with so long a barren period. One way or another, her pussy craved action. Hmm, and so did her ass too, now that she had become acquainted with its possibilities. Right this minute if Stephanie stuck her head in the doorway and -

No. Not that again. The hell with Stephanie and that hot hand of hers, the hell with finger-fucking! Not that it was bad, of course, but surely these hungry-looking dykes could come up with a more sophisticated style of entertainment. Provided entertainment was called for. Which left the question unanswered but more pertinent than ever. Do I want to be entertained? June made up her mind. Since she had so little choice, why not take the plunge? But not with Stephanie, though. At least not until the time was ripe to even the score, and the redhead had too great a head-start at the moment. But no handicap was too much for a determined athlete, and June decided to view the whole business as a contest. She would beat Stephanie at her own game, once she got the hang of it. Like rushing the net at tennis; if you knew how, it was easy to come on strong and look invincible and rattle your opponent. She had won many a match doing just that. A good body helped, naturally - just like in sex - but the thing to do was to gain the psychological advantage. It was all a matter of knowing how.

Psychological advantage, hmm, what fun! June smiled complacently and yawned - and on that cheery note, she sank back and geared herself for tomorrow and fell asleep. After such a brainstorm there would be smooth sailing for her aboard the vessel known as the good ship Lollipop. Ho, for the life on the bounding main - and all that nautical jazz...

Taking the plunge turned out to be a gas. As soon as June began responding to their overtures, the cooing lesbians figured they had a new pigeon in their flock. But she managed to play it cool, intent on remaining unattached until she had learned the ropes. That didn't deter the eager lez-zies though, and most of them were glad to volunteer as teachers in hopes of making the grade as lovers later on. Anyway, she formed some new friendships and picked up plenty of pointers. All of them seemed to have their own special kicks - and June kept an open mind.

She even got chummy with Flavia, but that was as far as it went. Just chummy, nothing more. She couldn't quite see herself kowtowing to Flavia's whims the way Vestal and some of the other girls did. She liked Topaz and Geraldine and their cute little pet Daphne, but they appeared to be a closely knit group and she wasn't ready for group games yet. There was a tall leathery broad named Hildegarde who was interesting but just a bit scary; she carried a whip and claimed to be an artist with it and invited June to attend a demonstration of her prowess. The idea was strangely exciting, but June tabled it for future reference. She didn't need a whip to conquer Stephanie - although the thought of using one wasn't exactly distasteful to her.

Among the others, Nicole and Adeline and Esther and Paola and Ilona all seemed rather ordinary in their approach; they were seeking sweet romance instead of hot thrills. The doll named Leda had an intriguing personality, but June couldn't quite figure out what lay beneath that glittering surface and was too much in a hurry to take the time to find out. Besides, she had already gotten interested in Myrtle and her buddies.

They were an odd bunch who spent a lot of time together but didn't make a corporate thing of it the way Topaz and her group did. Or so June realized after she saw how Brenda drifted away with Rosemary every so often, leaving Myrtle alone with the willowy slave girl Camille. Nor was Camille the exclusive property of Myrtle, from what June could tell, so there would be no question of poaching on anyone else's territory. Camille was pale and subdued and absolutely beautiful; just the sight of her was a temptation. Myrtle lacked physical charm but compensated for it by being jolly and talkative, almost a motherly type in a strangely coquettish way. And it was Myrtle's simpering invitation to watch the two of them in action that June finally decided to accept. Although she did it only with the ostensible intention of joining them for a drink. And - if there was action - to be nothing more than an onlooker.

Nor did she have cause to regret her decision. Quite the contrary, as it turned out. It was certainly edifying to see the highhanded manner in which roly-poly Myrtle treated the lovely blonde slave. Goggle-eyed with the sheer novelty of it, June drank in every detail and thought of lording it over Stephanie in just that authoritative fashion. Even the simple act of fixing and serving the drinks took on a sexy significance under Myrtle's command. All the more so, considering the shyly constrained grace with which her orders were carried out. Camille was so utterly ravishing in face and figure that she couldn't make a move without appearing sexy.

The three of them were together in Myrtle's stateroom and June felt like an outsider at first. But the lascivious atmosphere soon dispelled her stiffness, and she couldn't help but recognize that Myrtle was deliberately showing off for her; the woman seemed to be getting a big charge out of flaunting her power. The source of that power was puzzling, to say the least, since it scarcely seemed plausible that so unattractive a creature could be an object of worship for anybody, much less for someone as remarkable as the appealing Camille. It couldn't be love, June realized, it just had to be something else. Money, perhaps, since she was aware of Myrtle's ostentatious wealth but was completely in the dark about Camille's rank in the pecking order of the women on board the yacht. Maybe there was some sort of undercover blackmail going on. Indeed, she even got the impression that Camille's obedience was reluctant rather than spontaneous. If so, however, Myrtle apparently didn't notice it.

Nevertheless, the impression persisted as the evening wore on. And it was further emphasized by the fact that the slave girl appeared more attuned to the visiting guest than to her own mistress. Every now and then, Camille's covert but hot-eyed glance sent a tremor rippling through June's flesh. It was as if the beautiful blonde slave was pleading for her favor, offering herself to the visitor even as she fetched and carried for the hostess.

Somewhere around the third drink, the fetching and carrying ended and the occasion took on a more intimate aspect. Although intimate was hardly the word for it, once the awkwardly obese Myrtle swung into action. Stripped down, she looked like a blubber-laden whale. But that didn't prevent her from dominating the situation, and like a mighty Leviathan of the ocean depths, she ruled as monarch of all she surveyed. Even as an innocent bystander, June was awed by the fat woman's performance and became engrossed in it. But her empathy was intellectual rather than emotional; she was here to learn, not to participate, and she couldn't visualize her involvement ever going beyond the voyeuristic stage.

Then too, the ugliness of Myrtle's demeanor - as much as of her body - struck June as offensive. When the woman perched her fat ass on top of Camille's upturned face, June felt like turning away in disgust. But she went on staring intently, gripped by a sense of repulsive fascination. It pained her to see those delicate features squashed under all that blubbery flesh; she hated Myrtle for doing it and her heart went out in sympathy to the poor slave girl. But it wasn't her business to interfere, of course, and she was too stunned to get up and leave. Too stunned and too spellbound. The scene was ugly, sure enough, but it was terribly real. And it was taking place right there in front of her eyes. She had never seen anything like it. Nor had she ever heard such sound-effects.

Poor crushed Camille could do no more than whimper and gasp for breath, but Myrtle was an amplified orchestra all by herself. She huffed and puffed, wheezed and grunted, grinding her bulk down upon the muffled mouth and making noises that heralded her approaching orgasm. And every so often - for the benefit of her audience, it seemed - she spoke out in sharply colorful language. As if she wanted June to know exactly what was going on down there.

"Gimme that tongue, you slave bitch! Shoot it right up my asshole. Wiggle it around and show me how much you love my ass. Kiss my ass, kiss it, suck it, tongue it, eat it - yeah, slave, that's the way!"

A moan. A muted whimper. A threshing of beautiful naked limbs as Camille struggled to comply.

"Oh, that hot mouth! Show me how it can suck. Suck the shit right out of my asshole!"

June felt a twinge of nausea. It wasn't actually happening, she knew; there was a lot of kissing and lapping going on, but the talk about shit was only melodramatic bombast. Just the same, though, it sounded so genuine that it must have been some sort of unvented desire on the part of Myrtle. Something the fat woman had thought about but didn't dare try. Ugh! And yet - paradoxically - how could anything so repulsive be so fascinating? Despite her queasiness, June couldn't tear her gaze away.

Until, abruptly, the plump body lurched and rocked in the throes of orgasm and then tumbled from its perch. Breathing heavily, Myrtle heaved a huge sigh of contentment and lay there with her eyes closed. Camille got to her feet gingerly, her face a mask of mingled horror and shame, her makeup smeared beyond repair. She flashed a beseeching glance in June's direction - a plea for pity, a humble hope for commiseration - and then staggered off toward the bathroom. June heard the water running, but she couldn't tell if Camille was washing or vomiting. Both, probably. It certainly seemed likely.

Myrtle's eyelids flickered open. "How about that?" she gurgled with a smug smile. "She's good, huh? Care to give her a try, honey?"

"No, thanks."

"Well, suit yourself. But you're welcome to her, in case you get the urge."

"I - I couldn't." June sought for a logical-sounding excuse. "I'm not used to this threesome type of thing. I didn't mind watching, I'll admit - especially since you seemed to enjoy my being here. You put on quite a show. But I don't think I could relax if - "

"Bashful, huh? Honey, you'll soon get over that. But meanwhile, be my guest. Feel free to use my slave in any way you care to. And don't worry about me; after a session like this last one, I'm too worn out even to watch. I'm going to pour a hot tub and just soak." Myrtle raised her voice. "Hey, hurry up in there! I want to take a bath. Come out here and take care of our company."

A moment later, more pale than usual but just as beautiful as ever, Camille returned. Her face had been scrubbed immaculate; the soft skin actually shone from her efforts. She looked somewhat drawn but far from unhappy. Evidently she was pleased that her ordeal was over and now her only duty was to take care of the company. The resurgence of spirit was amazing.

"Like I said, June, be my guest. Go ahead and relax. I'm sure you'll find Camille amusing. She's a hot bitch if you know how to handle her. A hot slave bitch." Myrtle waddled to the bathroom, pausing in the doorway for a parting thrust. "That's right, isn't it, Camille? You're a hot slave bitch. Only June might not believe it, so you'll have to convince her." Then the door was slammed shut and an instant later the roar of the water gushing into the tub became audible.

"Shall I?" Camille murmured.

"Huh?"

"Shall I convince you that I'm a hot slave bitch? I am, you know. Or at least I could be - for you."

"For me?"

"Yes. Especially for you. I act that way for Myrtle, but it's really not much fun. I'd rather do it for you." Camille sank to her knees. "Please? Let me be your hot slave bitch? I know I can make you happy. Let me?"

"But - but just what... uh..."

"Let me kiss your ass."

"You - you really want to?"

"Very much. It's all I've thought about since we met. Even when Myrtle was - well, you know - even then, I was actually thinking about you."

"Damn. It must be a put-on, but you sure sound serious about it. You want me to do what Myrtle did? You go for that? You want me to sit on your face?"

"No. Not that. That's Myrtle's idea, not mine. I really hate when she does it. No, just stand up and take your shorts off and I'll show you what I actually mean. Please, June?"

"Well..."

"I'll help you. There. Now turn around. Yes. Oh, it's so beautiful. I knew it would be, I just knew it. So firm and strong, such a beautiful ass. Just looking at it makes me feel like a hot slave bitch. I've got to kiss it. Will you let me? Is it all right if I kiss your beautiful ass?"

"Y-yes." June could scarcely breathe. "Do it. Kiss my ass. Be my slave, my hot slave bitch."

"Ummm... I love it. I could lick your ass forever. Do you like my tongue? Doesn't it feel nice? Mmmm..."

"Camille. Wait. Stop."

"Hmm?"

"Is this your kick? You want to make love to my ass? That's all? Nothing else?"

"Oh. But I'm your slave. I'll do anything you tell me to. I'll suck your cunt if you say so. I'll kiss your feet. But for my own pleasure, yes, I love your beautiful ass most of all and I want to worship it."

"Okay. It'll be my pleasure, too. But let me get on the bed or I'm liable to collapse. My knees are getting shaky already. Can't you worship my ass lying down?"

"Any way you like. I love it. I love you. I never saw such a beautiful ass. Not even - " Then, "But I'm talking too much. Are you comfy now? Spread your pretty legs and let me..."

"Oooh!" 

"Mmm, I love it. And you do, too. I can tell. Your darling little asshole loves my tongue. Oh, June, I wish I could belong to you, I wish I could be your hot slave bitch forever, I wish we could be together and just - "

"Stop wishing. Give me your tongue. Kiss my ass. Lick it. Tongue my asshole like a hot slave bitch ought to."

"Mmm, I love it when you talk like that."

"Suck, damn you! Suck my ass. Oooh - yes! Like you're sucking the shit right out of it!"

"Mmmm... darling... umumumum..."

It took a moment before the gist of her own words sank in, and then June wondered how she had spoken them so easily. Without the slightest sense of disgust. She hadn't meant them, of course, but they had sure slipped out as if she had. And that mouth was sure striving to obey them, too, the way it was slurping down there, the way it was trying to suck her asshole inside out. What a weird feeling! Hmm, wouldn't it be terrific to get Stephanie broken in as a hot slave bitch like that?

But aside from Stephanie, this submissive blonde chick was definitely something to investigate further. She belonged to Myrtle, obviously, but she wasn't very happy about it. What was Myrtle's hold over her? And could the hold be broken?

"Mmm... I love your beautiful ass."

That too was nice. The way Camille could worship out loud and still keep on kissing. A hot slave bitch, all right, and an expert in her field.

Before this crazy ship dropped anchor in the home harbor there would be many such experts, June was aware. Many experts in many fields. She would probably enjoy all of them. But this one, the first - other than that stupid hand job from Stephanie - well, she doubted if anybody would thrill her as much as this. For that matter, even the conquest of the saucy redhead had lost its importance now. Cousin Stephanie could go take a flying fuck for herself. When it came to satisfying an asshole, a tongue was better than a finger anytime.

June trembled. It was happening. She hadn't believed herself capable of such a thing, but it was happening. The tongue in her ass was making her come. Nothing was touching her cunt. Only her ass. And I'm coming! I'm coming! Incredible but true, and she pulled her knees in under her doubled-up body and jutted her ass back at that greedy mouth and almost passed out as her hot slave bitch performed a miracle that just didn't seem possible.

-=10=-

The two women had been friends for years. Platonic friends, mostly, since they turned to each other for sex only when some new - or at least less familiar - lover was not available. And although there was no such dearth of material on board the good ship Lollipop, both Hildegarde and Leda sat in their stateroom and eyed one another with revived interest. Each - in her own way - had found slim pickings lately. And even if their mutual interest didn't reach the point of sexual consummation, it was good to have a friendly, sympathetic ear.

Hildegarde was tall and thin, a rough-hewn and somewhat leathery type both in complexion and in manner of garb. Long ago she had recognized her own sadistic nature and had taken a fancy to the whip as a means of satisfaction. She dressed accordingly, wearing high-heeled boots often and preferring leather to the feminine finery of silks and satins. Even now she toyed with her ever-present rawhide quirt unconsciously as she sipped her drink. She had longer and thicker whips among her accumulated hoard, but the quirt was her favorite and she carried it around with her almost as a woman of more simple tastes carries a purse. Clutched in her huge hand, the weapon looked formidable enough despite its small size. And it was convenient both in function and as a flaunted symbol of her esoteric form of amusement. Even in public she could flick it with audacious accuracy and bring out the hidden masochism in anyone who might have such tendencies. It usually inspired fear, of course, but that too was pretty much to her liking. Hildegarde was indeed a strange creature.

No less strange was her chum Leda. But there was little evidence of it in her appearance. Leda was a strikingly attractive silver blonde who seemed to glitter and radiate a kind of imperious charm. But that was merely a surface presentation, and beneath it she was quite a different person. Or so she was beginning to realize, now that her shipboard boredom had manifested itself with such irritating self-accusation. Much as she hated the idea - especially in these mature years of her life - Leda was gradually coming to the conclusion that her domineering attitude was spurious and that she was missing something by playing such a role. Her affair with Flavia had given her only an inkling of it, but she was well on the way toward a self-analytical recognition that the joys of humility were worth looking into. Too bad she hadn't known about it earlier, she fretted. The reverse side of the coin, as it were. She might have been adjusted to it by now.

As matters stood, she was somewhere in between dominant and submissive, neither flesh nor fowl nor good red herring. Just a great big zero, really, until she could decide whether to swing one way or the other. Or until someone came along to spur her vacillating mind and make the decision for her. Someone like Hildegarde, perhaps, except that they had known each other too long to attempt a fresh start. Then too, the whip didn't have the same appeal for her as it had for Hildegarde. Leda liked what the whip represented - the power, the authority, the tyranny of its demand for instant obedience - but the weapon itself meant comparatively little to her. And as far as Hildegarde was concerned, the whip was everything.

Too bad. Leda sighed and sipped her drink. If she and her old friend had been younger and less set in their ways, they might have achieved an interesting compromise. But it was too late for that now. Too late to change - at least with each other. The pattern of their friendship was irrevocable.

Even the possibility of changing for someone else seemed dubious to Leda. And yet she was bored stiff with this cruise, bored with the girls who bowed down to her beauty, bored with the amorous subservience of the wooers and pursuers who desired nothing more than to worship at her shrine. Such boredom was new to her, and that made it all the more exasperating. It was one hell of a way to spend a holiday. She could hardly wait for the voyage to end so that she might get back into circulation and meet women who saw her through less adoring eyes.

Still, her predicament was no worse than that of her friend. Hildegarde was having her troubles, too. It was simply an oversight on Flavia's part, Leda knew; her invitations just hadn't included a suitable partner for Hildegarde. A whip-artist needed someone to whip. And even though Flavia's carelessness hadn't been intentional, it was the kind of error that couldn't be remedied out here in the middle of the ocean. Unless there was somebody on board who had escaped Hildegarde's notice thus far. Hmm, one of the whores, perhaps?

"Hildegarde, what about that little pink-faced thing, what's her name, Daphne? The cute one who hangs around with Geraldine and Topaz. She's a slavish type, isn't she?"

"Uh-huh. But I've already checked. The stuck-up bitch won't have any part of me. I made a pass, but she managed to duck away before I could get my hooks into her."

"Just one pass? And you gave up?"

"Well..."

"You know something, Hildegarde? You're slipping."

"Slipping, hell. I've already slipped. Believe me, it was no fun getting turned down by somebody like Daphne. By a professional whore, of all people. I felt like strangling her right there on the spot. I should have picked the filthy little cunt up and carried her off with me. Like some kind of kidnapper."

"Why didn't you?"

"Oh shit, she would have kicked and screamed and created a big fuss. And you know how upset Flavia gets about that sort of thing." Hildegarde shrugged ruefully. "To tell the truth, honey, I've lost confidence in myself. Until I score at least once, well..." She frowned darkly. "I've even got the feeling that everybody is laughing at me."

"That's ridiculous. No one is laughing. There just isn't anyone on board who appreciates you, that's all. No one except me." Then, brightly, "Hey, I just thought of something. You want to score? Score with me."

"Huh? Leda, you're kidding."

"No, I mean it. Whip me - just as an experiment in therapy, we'll call it. Don't be brutal though, since it's not my kick. But you do need some action - as your best buddy, it's the least I can do to give it to you. So I'm volunteering my services. What do you say? Will you accept my sacrificial offer?"

Hildegarde grinned. "Never look a gift horse in the mouth. Baby, you've got yourself a deal. Get your bare ass up there on the bed. I'm going to whip it good."

There was tension in Leda's body as she shed her garments and assumed the angle. Oddly enough, it stemmed not from any fear of the whip but the thought that she might actually enjoy it. She might like it too damn much, especially in this silly frame of mind that she was in. Was she trying to convince herself that she was a masochist? Was that the real reason for this weird sacrifice? It was to help Hildegarde regain her confidence, of course, but wasn't there something more involved?

Oh well, she would soon find out. And if the bane of the whip became a boon to her flesh, so what? Wouldn't it solve a lot of problems for both of them? Wouldn't it be grand to be together in a new kind of -

"Ouch!" 

"Hold still. I hardly touched you."

Leda held still. But the first cut of the whip had doomed her to dire disappointment. She was making a sacrifice, sure enough. This just wasn't her dish of tea. Not the way Hildegarde was doing it, anyway. It hurt. And its sole purpose was just that. To hurt. Oh, if it had been used as a sign of authority, a weapon to enforce a command, mmm, perhaps that would have been different. But this? No, it wasn't very exciting. But for her old friend's sake, she would take it without griping. For a while, anyway. And besides, Hildegarde was really being pretty careful with it...

Careful was the word uppermost in Hildegarde's mind. She couldn't afford to let go and whip that naked ass the way she wanted to. It was her friend Leda's ass, not the ass of some snotty bitch who deserved punishment. An impudent young cunt like that goddam Daphne, for instance. Oh, if it were only Daphne's ass there cringing under the whip! "Leda..."

"Hmm?"

"It's no good. It just won't work."

"I know. And I'm truly sorry. Let's just go to bed and make love, huh? A sixty-nine will calm us both down."

"Yeah. But listen - about that Daphne hussy, I'm not through with her yet. I want her. I'm going to whip that ass if it's the last thing I do. Even if I have to kidnap the conceited little cunt and tie her to the bed. Will you help me?"

"Help you? How?"

"I'll figure something out. She's leery of me, but you can decoy her in here - and then I'll take over. How about it? Will you help?"

"Gladly. Oooh, it sounds exciting. Kind of like a deep, dark plot, huh? Dirty work at the crossroads. Come on to bed and we'll talk about it."

"Later."

"Huh?"

"I'm too hot to talk, Leda. Even if I couldn't let go and do it right, using the whip does something to me. Right now I'm hot for your cunt."

"Grandma, what sharp teeth you have!"

"The better to eat you, my dear."

"Eat me, eat me. But don't be selfish. Swing around and give me something to nibble on. Remember how we used to do it in the sorority house?"

"Mmmm..."

It was nice. Nice for both of them. A sixty-nine - mouth to cunt, cunt to mouth - bringing back sweet memories. Nice. But Leda couldn't shake loose from her perplexed state of mind. The whip had disappointed her, but it hadn't quelled her curiosity and she knew she would go on searching. Still, the soixante-neuf was nice.

Hildegarde thought so, too. Nice. But not nearly as nice as the delicious prospect of getting that uppity Daphne cunt in here and tied spread-eagled on the bed and beating the little wretch to within an inch of her life.

-=11=-

It was the chance of a lifetime, and Rosemary felt nervous and more than a little apprehensive about the outcome. She was here to prove herself a good lover so that she would be invited to return. And only then - on a succeeding visit - would she dare mention her career and ask for help. But only when the time was ripe and the mood of the moment perfect, even if it took many, many lovemaking sessions to soften Topaz up.

So this first such interlude was truly important, since all the others hinged on it. True to her word, Daphne had made the necessary arrangements, telling the two wealthy women in glowing terms of her new shipboard acquaintance who might agreeably expand their present threesome into a pleasant foursome. Perhaps she had laid it on too thick, and Rosemary prayed that too much wasn't expected of her. Especially since her heart wasn't in it. Oh, she wanted desperately to make good, of course, but her heart still belonged to Brenda nonetheless. Right this minute she would rather have been kneeling behind her glorious goddess and paying homage to that sublime ass. If she closed her eyes she could see it on the dark screen of her mind, firm and strong and solid and yet lusciously succulent to the touch of her lips.

Not that Topaz wasn't beautiful. But there was just nobody like Brenda. Only it was wrong to go on thinking like that, Rosemary knew, and she had to snap out of it. This was what she had been striving for, and its success would compensate for the shabby treatment she had received from Flavia. So it was now or never. She was on trial, both as an actress and as a lover.

Nor could the trial be postponed even one more minute. Daphne had followed Geraldine into the bathroom, and it was Rosemary's guess that it had been done to put this golden opportunity into her hands. Alone with Topaz, she was obviously supposed to demonstrate her prowess - and she could only be grateful to dear little Daphne for having shown her the way and then setting up such a favorable opening for her. Just the same, though, she couldn't seem to get over her nervous diffidence. It was hard to know how to begin. And lying there in her sheer negligee, Topaz looked cool and comfortable and almost disinterested in the proceedings.

Gingerly, Rosemary sat down on the edge of the bed. "What are they doing in there?" she said tremulously, not really caring but anxious to make some sort of overture. "Did they go in together just to leave you and me alone?"

"Who knows? Does it matter?"

"N-no. I just thought perhaps - "

"Rosemary, we are alone. Whatever they're doing is none of our business - except that they'll probably wind up taking a shower together." Topaz spoke in a lazy drawl. "So we'll be alone for quite awhile, I expect."

"Oh..."

The drawl turned sharp. "Well, what are you waiting for? Daphne said you were a good lover. A good cuntlapper, to be precise, and I'm curious to find out if her judgment was right. So strip your duds off and let's get with it, huh? And give me a hand with this negligee, will you?"

Rosemary leaped into action. The sudden arrogance in the woman's voice was shattering, but she found it strangely welcome. It smoothed the path for her. And as if she had sprouted an extra hand, she tugged at her own clothing and slipped the negligee from beneath Topaz's raised torso at the same time.

"Easy, there. Don't tear it. Honey, you may be the world's best at sucking cunt, but as a lady's maid you'll never make it. Don't be in such a rush."

"Sorry..." Rosemary cursed the impetuosity that had turned her fingers to awkward twigs of wood. "It's a lovely negligee and it does become you. Expensive, no doubt, hmm?"

"I'll say." Apparently mollified, Topaz smiled her acceptance of the mild flattery. "But it isn't the expense, it's just that I can't get another one out here in the middle of nowhere." She nodded approvingly as the garment was neatly set aside. "There now, see how easy it is when you're not in a hurry? Come and make love to me like that. Nice and slow and easy. Take your time and build me up to a big bang."

Self-confidence restored, Rosemary took the cue and decided to play her role like a polished performer. Nice and slow and easy? But of course! Like an actress on stage, not a nervous understudy standing in the wings and waiting for the star to break a leg. Nor would it be difficult, either, considering the splendor of her glamorous bedmate. Lying there naked, Topaz looked simply gorgeous, all tawny and golden and alluringly voluptuous. Truly enchanting. A body like that deserved the best, whether it be expensive negligees or attentive loving. And it would get the best, Rosemary vowed. The best she had to offer.

Scarcely a moment ago, she might have gone down between those spread thighs simply and sucked the gold-fringed cunt according to Daphne's instructions. But things were different now. She didn't need Daphne to tell her what to do. Nice and slow and easy? Build up to a big bang? Okay, that was her script and she would follow it to the letter. Follow it, yes, but in her own way. And taking her own sweet time about it. Maybe she wasn't a full-fledged lesbian yet, but she would sure fill in - but good! - until the real thing came along.

Tempting as it was, the delightfully displayed pussy could wait. Let it grow impatient first. Let it be the last item on the agenda, the final approach to the big climax. And let the prelude be nice and slow and easy.

A kiss first. A kiss on the lips. Wasn't that the right way to make love? Rosemary gazed down into the liquid eyes and then bent her head to take possession of the moist mouth. It must have come as a surprise; the eyes went blank as if they lacked understanding. But then the lids drooped and closed and the lips parted in soft surrender.

Rosemary felt sure of herself. Confident. Even a kiss was enough to make Topaz quiver responsively. Everything was going to be fine, just fine, and Rosemary allowed her natural instincts to guide her as much as her acquired technique. They were guiding her well.

Still, technique was too important to be discarded entirely and she put every ounce of her skill to work. The breasts swelled under her touch; the nipples stiffened in greeting to her sportive but accurate fingertips. A sweeping caress of her palm made the soft thighs twitch and tremble.

Nice and slow and easy. She kept it up for a long time, aware that the protracted teasing would make the end bang that much bigger. But the symptoms became all too evident, and she knew the orgasm was just around the corner. This was the moment to lap that cunt into ecstasy.

Ah, but was it? Hadn't she left something out? Wasn't there yet another way to evoke pleasure? Hadn't she learned from Brenda as well as Daphne? For that matter, hadn't she already gone beyond what anybody had taught her? I'm on my own now! Lessons were a thing of the past.

"Ooh! Rosemary, what are you - "

"Hush. Let me. You'll love it."

Topaz's body wriggled over pliantly. A chuckle of joy popped from her lips. It faded abruptly, muffled as her face rolled back and forth in the puffy pillow.

There were more sounds but not the sounds of laughter, and Rosemary took pride in the throaty moans that reached her ears. She used her tongue ingeniously, treating the tiny puckered rosebud as a plaything, not an object of worship. It was hers to do with as she liked. It liked what she liked. And even though she would always remain in the shadow of her one and only goddess, there was a certain delight in making love to another woman's ass. This one, especially; it was so sensuous, so deliciously feminine. The cheeks were soft and velvety and she didn't mind that at all. Soft and womanly, not hard and boyish. And the cute little asshole, how it squirmed and begged for more when she tapped it with the tip of her tongue! How it opened to welcome the thrust of -

"She's terrific, Daphne. You were right."

The utterance came as a shock, but Rosemary licked busily and brooked no interruption. She hadn't heard anyone come out of the bathroom, but they were there behind her somewhere, watching her. Okay, let them. Let them look. Let them see a real expert in action. It was even stimulating to know that her proficiency was drawing admiring compliments. They were murmuring now, and the murmurs were like sounds of awe.

"She sure goes for it," Geraldine said. "I never saw anybody nibble an asshole like that. It must come naturally, I guess. You didn't teach her, did you, Daphne?"

"Not me. Other things, sure, but not that one. She probably learned it from her friend Brenda."

Topaz snorted disdainfully. "Brenda? That whore? The dark one who hangs around with - "

"Oh!" The gasp came from Daphne. "You - you know who Brenda is? Did you find out from me? Did I let it slip? Oh hell, she was trying to keep it a secret."

"Some secret," Topaz said. "Myrtle never got laid in her life without paying for it. I knew right away that she had a couple of whores in tow. Anyway, if Brenda is the one who taught Rosemary then I sure can't criticize. This kid can come and lick my asshole any old time. I just hope she's even near that good at sucking a cunt."

She had heard it all, mistily, obscurely, but it was the mention of her own name that jogged Rosemary's brain and made it function again. Up till that moment it had been a lump of lead. But the significance of the horrible words pierced suddenly - a whore! My glorious goddess is nothing but a whore! - and her body lurched and her jaws froze in paralysis and -

"Hey, don't quit! Never mind about sucking my cunt; you can show me that later. This is too great. Go, baby, get that hot tongue fucking my ass again."

It did seem foolish to quit now. Quitting would only give her time for remorse. Time to brood about the deceitful whore who had tricked her so unfairly, and Rosemary returned to her task of satisfying the ass that was so eager for her caress. But her heart wasn't in it. Nor did her heart belong to Brenda, either, no, not now. Her heart was her own.

But licking an asshole didn't require a heart, it just took skill and fervor and a good strong tongue - and those were things she could sure put into it. Like now. And it was fun, in a way, actually exciting - as long as she didn't stop and feel sorry for herself. No, it would have been purposeless to quit. After all, she had her career to think about, didn't she?

-=12=-

It was annoying to Myrtle that her slave girl seemed to be getting more and more reluctant to obey her. Or if not exactly reluctant, hesitant certainly. As if Camille had something on her mind, something other than the welfare of her employer. In the sense, the girl was earning her pay, true, but some of the life had gone out of her. She needed a shakeup, perhaps, just to keep her in line.

Myrtle wished she could do the shaking-up herself, but she knew better than to make the effort. She just wasn't much good at that sort of thing. As a child, she had been pudgy and plain and unloved - and nothing had changed in her later years. Nothing but the highly significant fact that the family wealth was all hers now. Money sure helped, the kind of money that gave her the right to be free and independent; it was at least a partial compensation for the ill-luck of being born pudgy and plain. She could buy what she wanted these days. A body, a mouth, a night of pleasure, even a pair of good-looking whores to attend to her needs on this cruise; she could buy anything.

Well, no, there were things that money couldn't buy. Love, for instance, the kind of love that Camille felt for Brenda. Love for the sake of itself alone. She couldn't buy that. Still, money did put her in a pretty good bargaining position and it would tilt the scales in her favor some day when the real thing hove into view. Meanwhile, though, she had to go on paying for her fun - and the weakness of her "John" status prevented her from ever exhibiting the strong and domineering personality that she was sure lay dormant somewhere deep down inside her outer shell of jolly complacency. Some day - and devil take the consequences! - her true nature would assert itself. But until then, well, things like this business with Camille, such things could only be resolved by the pressure of money. Brenda was too avaricious a whore to risk losing a generous client.

Anyway, it was Brenda's duty in the first place, since the slave was her property. Although at this stage of the game, Myrtle rather disliked the idea of asking her for help. Brenda had been so busy with Rosemary lately, and Myrtle had high hopes of reaping some of that particular harvest. It was still touch-and-go, from what she gathered, and she didn't want to interrupt the affair and channel Brenda's energies in any other direction. But it would have to be done, nevertheless, and soon too - before the Camille situation got completely out of hand.

As it turned out, though, there was no interference with Brenda's progress. Rosemary had the sniffles, poor dear, and had taken to her bed with a whisky bottle - to kill or cure, Brenda reported, and to avoid spreading the infection. In the sex-conscious atmosphere of the good ship Lollipop, the contagion of the common cold could have caused no end of frustrations and broken dates and lovelorn lovers. Or so Brenda said - rather glibly, Myrtle thought, but there was no reason to doubt her. Anyway, it was a fine opportunity to discuss Camille's behavior, and the subject was immediately broached.

Brenda listened with a kind of curious detachment, almost distractedly, it appeared. Then she shrugged nonchalantly and disposed of the matter all too facilely. "Camille is acting up, eh? Okay, I'll fix that. I'll give her a good scolding one of these days."

"Hmm. Just a scolding? You sound so - so unconcerned. Don't you even care?"

"Sure, I care. I said I'd fix it." Then, somberly, "Oh hell, Myrtle, I might as well come clean with you. I've got something on my mind and I'd better spill it before it drives me batty. It's about Rosemary. I think she's been dodging me lately, and the cold is probably just an excuse."

"Dodging you? For heaven's sake, why? Did you do something that might have scared her off?"

"Nothing that I know of - and believe me, I've wracked my brains over it. Everything was going great; I had her kissing my ass and was preparing her to kiss yours too - and then all of a sudden she got chilly toward me. For no reason at all, at least none that came up between us personally. So there's only one possible answer - and I hate to say it, but it's been bugging me like crazy. Myrtle, did you slip up and tell anyone on board that I'm working for you? Just accidentally, maybe?"

"No. Nary a peep. I'm positive of it. Still..." Myrtle dredged her memory, recalling the odd grin on Topaz's face at lunch that afternoon. A shit-eating grin, if ever there was one, sly and secretive and smug; but she hadn't paid much attention at the time, since Topaz was such a nasty bitch anyway, so conceited about her beauty and so disdainful of anyone who didn't measure up to her standard - except that hag Geraldine, who could be even more bitchy when the mood struck her. The two of them were inveterate gossips, real backbiters, and there wasn't much going on that they didn't know about. "Brenda, if Rosemary did find out about you, is that how she would react? Just crawl into her bed? Wouldn't she get angry and confront you?"

"I - I wish I knew. She thought I was some kind of goddess. I had her worshiping me. Worshiping my ass the way Camille does. But you never saw Camille do that, did you? Well, anyway, I had Rosemary trained to go through the whole ritual - a pretty serious business, really - so her finding out that I was just a whore would sure shock the shit out of her. She'd get mad, I suppose, but not to my face. She might just sulk and let it all blow over - like she's doing now. Hmm, the more I think about it, the more I see it that way."

"Uh-huh. You're right, then. Because there is a know-it-all on board. A pair of them, in fact, and they're both gossips. Topaz and her buddy Geraldine. How they might have found out is a mystery - although it's hard to keep a secret on one of Flavia's cruises, you can bet on that - but once those two cats are in on it, well, it won't be a secret any more."

"Shit! I wonder if - oh shit! What a shitty mess!"

"I'm sorry, dear. But it's not the end of the world. Tell you what - I'll scout around and see what information I can pick up. And meanwhile, don't go off half-cocked and do anything foolish. We could be wrong, you know."

"Yeah. I hope so. And you'd better hope so, too, because you've got a lot to lose by it. Myrtle, I had Rosemary in the palm of my hand, all primed for you. And after that, well, I was going to bird-dog some more chicks and bring them around. I had big plans, dammit; remember how I told you I'd get you every ass-licker on the boat? Well, those plans are all up in smoke if everybody knows the score about me. I've still got Camille, but as for the rest..." Brenda shook her head sadly.

"Hmm, I hadn't thought of that. Oh well, maybe it will work itself out. And speaking of Camille, uh, I don't suppose you feel like jumping on her now, do you?"

"Frankly, no. But I owe it to you, especially if my plans are shot and I can't come up with any more goodies. Where is the bitch? I'm just peeved enough to kick the shit out of her just for the hell of it."

"Brenda, please! I'd rather you didn't. Whatever happened between you and Rosemary isn't Camille's fault. You're too upset now, you might bruise her or knock a tooth out or something like that. Flavia would be furious; she can't stand that sort of thing at any of her parties. What if poor Camille showed up with a black eye tomorrow?"

"Oh. You're right. Okay, I'll calm down. No violence. But let's have some fun with her anyway. Where is she?"

"In there." Myrtle gestured toward the small servants' cabin that adjoined the stateroom. "Asleep, I guess. I told her to take her beauty nap."

"Asleep, huh? I'll go wake her up."

"Yes, do. Don't pick on her, though; this isn't the time to give her that scolding." Myrtle simpered coyly. "Uh, but there is something I'd like, if you feel up to it. What you said about the ritual got me curious. I'd love to see it."

"Oh. Hmm, it's a kind of private thing. Still, I do owe you something. The ritual, huh? The full treatment. Okay, why not? Maybe you can pick up a few pointers and handle her that way yourself. Then I won't even have to scold her. You can go on sitting on her face, of course, if that's your kick - but a little fancy humiliation makes her more cooperative."

"Is that true, Brenda? I had no idea it was so important to her. You should have let me know before this."

"I should have. And I'm sorry. I'm sorry about that other business too, sorry that I can't produce for you. But I'll make it up to you, I swear I will. With Camille now - and when we get back to dry land, I'll bring you all the ass-licking slaves you'll ever want. You can have them two at a time, even. You've been good to me, and I'm not forgetting it."

The emotional outburst brought a smile to Myrtle's lips as Brenda strode away to fetch Camille. A pleased smile but a puzzled one. Brenda had sounded so sincere, so genuinely sorry about her own failure; and could that have been a note of humility in her tone? She wasn't the humble type.

And yet avarice did strange things to people. All that talk about what would happen on dry land, hum, that was a new development. The end of the cruise would mean the end of the contract, but Brenda was apparently looking forward to a long and lasting relationship. She seemed to be begging for it, practically, the way she was making those delightful but somewhat extravagant promises. Myrtle remained mystified, but she rather liked the way things were going. For the first time since the start of the voyage, she felt superior to her hired whore. Brenda wasn't quite so arrogant now, and wouldn't it be interesting if -

"Out here, Camille! You heard me - the full treatment. Right here in front of Myrtle. Here, you bitch, right here where she can see you and hear you."

"Oh... please... must we do it - "

"Stop whining, slave. Now go kiss Myrtle's hand and ask her if she'd like to see you perform. Hurry up! No, don't mumble, say it out loud." Then, as the sleepy voice became more audible, "That's better. Now kiss her hand again. Or her foot or her ass if she tells you to."

"That won't be necessary," Myrtle snapped. "I'd love to see you perform. I'm very fond of you, did you know that, you hot slave bitch? I may want the full treatment myself later. But only if I think your performance is good enough. Now go and show me how well you can do it."

Meekly, her pale features contorted in anguished excitement, wide awake now, the beautiful blonde slave began her ritual. On her knees, supplicating, praying to the ass she loved, obviously lost in the dream world of her fantasy. It was an utterly breathtaking sight.

Myrtle drank it all in. But it affected her no more than her own words of a moment ago. She had spoken them to Camille and yet they were intended for Brenda's ears. Somehow everything had gone deliciously topsy-turvy and Myrtle felt proud of herself. Proud and bold and daring. Was this it? Was she breaking out of her shell at last?

She looked at the kneeling slave and yet was more conscious of the dark-skinned upright figure that was being worshiped so fervently. Straight and firm as it stood, Brenda's body lacked the haughty grandeur that typified the truly aristocratic mistress. Her pose had been angled for Myrtle's benefit, offering a flank and slightly hindward view that presented the spectacle with the utmost clarity. From her vantage-point, Myrtle could see every twitch of Camille's imploring lips, every plane and rondure of the idolized buttocks. But she was aware of Brenda's solicitous sidelong glances in her direction, and the realization of her own importance sent a hot thrill coursing through her bloodstream. The so-called "full treatment" was no longer a love-ritual, it was a pageant, a theatrical drama, and its sole purpose was to amuse and entertain and stimulate its audience. An audience of one. Me! It's all for me!

To some extent, such a thing was to be expected; after all, it was taking place at her request. But the ritual was so intensely personal between the two of them that once begun it should have continued with a complete disregard of any outside distraction. Camille, certainly, was performing in that manner. But not Brenda. Far from it, in fact. Even as she issued the command that ended the spoken entreaty and permitted the immediately ensuing intimacy of fleshly caresses, Brenda's eyes sought the approval of her benefactress. Like a slave, almost. Or at any rate, a mere hireling pleading for favor.

Myrtle had once envied Brenda's fine body. She had never felt that way about Camille - since it was only fitting that a slave should be beautiful - but she had actually thought of Brenda as something quite magnificent, a creature she could hope to emulate only in demeanor, considering her own ugly-duckling appearance. Now, however, seeing Brenda in this new light - in this attitude that approached subservience, practically - she no longer worried about being plump and plain. Brenda's beauty was only skin-deep. The aristocratic grandeur was missing - or simply phony, at best - because Brenda was not an aristocrat. Brenda was just a peasant. A whore, a mercenary whore, a human animal who could be tamed and domesticated and turned into a docile beast of burden by anyone who foresaw such a possibility and was clever enough to take advantage of it.

It would take leverage, of course, the proper leverage properly applied. Nor would it be a pushover. But it could be done - and Myrtle glowed inwardly as she saw herself as the one person capable of doing it without having to resort to subtle or surreptitious tactics. Greed was forcing Brenda right into her hands. Money was the key; not money bestowed, no, just money possessed and withheld and dangled as bait - that was the key to Brenda's soul. And the greediest of whores would become the lowliest of slaves.

Perhaps it would be easier than anticipated, too. Even now, with Camille's half-hidden face burrowing in the furrow of her ass, Brenda was looking this way. Looking and smiling and all but begging for some sign of commendation. As if the ritual had significance only as the audience saw it.

And how does the audience see it? The ass-licking tongue was invisible, but the vigorous rippling motions at the base of Camille's throat told of its turbulent labor. The vision had an aphrodisiac effect, and Myrtle was no longer content to remain a bystander. Her stint as audience was over; she lurched up out of her chair and moved in swiftly, shedding her robe on the way. "Me too," she said brusquely. "I want some of that."

Brenda beamed and nodded and stepped for ward one pace, breaking the contact with a sucking noise and leaving Camille's tongue stabbing the empty air. But the emptiness was only momentary, and Myrtle simpered happily as the tongue continued without missing a stroke. She wondered if the spellbound slave was even aware of the change. Probably. The difference in size was too much of a giveaway. But to a slave in a trance, what did it matter? To such a slave, any asshole would have been irresistible.

The darting tongue felt just fine, but Myrtle knew right away that the position wasn't right for her. Standing up was already making her legs weary. And she had to bend over just a little too, in order to widen the tight cleavage of her chubby buttocks enough to get the full length of that hot tongue inside her. The thrusting tongue was long and well-trained, but her ass was just too damn big. No, this wasn't the way she liked it - and besides, it was really only an imitation of Brenda. Sitting on the slave's face wasn't part of the ritual, but it would have been much more comfortable.

Still, the idea of interfering with that rhythmic in-and-out motion didn't appeal to her at the moment. Regardless of her comfort - or lack of it - she didn't want to break the spell that had Camille licking so feverishly. The tongue wasn't just being dutiful - as it had so often been in the past - no, it was really loving her ass now. Loving it just as eagerly as it had loved the last one. Or as it would love the next one, if another asshole were put in front of it. Yes, that crazy ritual did have its merits; the slave was entangled in the web of its fantasy beyond any thought of escape. It had freed Camille from the surrounding world and allowed her to be her natural self, unthinking, uncaring, just a mindless ass-licker.

But the strain kept increasing and Myrtle had to straighten up and ease her aching bones. It gave her some relief, but her clenching buttocks lost a goodly portion of the tongue. Damn! If only she didn't have such a fat ass!

Hmm, fat ass? So what? A keen brain could make up for that particular defect. A keen brain and a sense of her own power and just enough brash courage to speak out and adjust matters to suit herself. And the time was now!

"Brenda..."

"Hmm?"

"Come here. I need you."

"Sure. What's up? Is she slowing down back there?"

"No, she's doing great. But my pussy has suddenly developed a great big itch. Scratch it for me, will you?"

"Huh? Scratch it?"

"Don't be stupid, sweetie, you know what I mean. I want my cunt sucked. Get down on your knees and do it."

"Myrtle? You - you don't really mean that, do you? You know I'm not the slavish type who - "

"I know, I know. But I'm not asking you to be a slave; what the hell, I've already got one right here behind me. What I need now is a friend, a good friend who won't mind offering her services for the sake of a bigger and better friendship. We are friends, aren't we? And we're going to be friends for a long time to come, isn't that so?"

"Well... uh... sure, but - "

"Oh shit, if you're going to stand there and argue with me, let's just forget it. Some day when you need a friend, though, I'll bet you'll wish you hadn't been so selfish. Because I can be an awfully good friend - a helpful friend - to someone who is nice enough to deserve my help."

That quelled further protest. Brenda's reluctance vanished and she crumpled to her knees and began scratching the itch. With her lips. Her mouth. Her tongue. With eagerness and with ardor, she sucked Myrtle's cunt as if it was all she could do to apologize for her futile argument and demonstrate her desire to strengthen the bonds of their friendship.

Myrtle stood there, an expression of triumph illuminating her features. After a while she let her body sag a bit. And then a little bit more. Ah, that was better! It took the weight off her legs. Now she was comfortable, resting upon the support of the two upturned faces. The tongue in her asshole was still lavishing its love. The one in her cunt was doing its duty nobly and skillfully, but it could have been just a fumbling lump of flesh and Myrtle wouldn't have cared. Not as long as the face remained in place. Her cunt just wasn't very sensitive one way or the other, so even the most proficient of cuntlappers couldn't have done much for it. But she needed Brenda's face to lean upon and to hold her steady while her asshole sucked and munched and chewed on the elongated ecstasy of Camille's tongue. As yes, there she was sensitive!

But a little encouragement always helped. The ass-licker was doing beautifully without it, still in her trancelike state, totally lost in the rapturous fulfillment of her obsession. Camille was simply terrific. But the reluctant cuntlapper - or ex-reluctant cuntlapper, rather, now that the issue had been settled to their mutual satisfaction - would surely feel better and be reassured by some small token of praise.

Myrtle reached down and patted the top of Brenda's head. "You're a darling," she cooed softly, twining her fingers in the jet-black hair. "A true friend. You'll never know how much I think of you right this minute. Years from now, when we're both old and gray, I'll look back and remember..."

The sucking mouth carried on resolutely, but the dark eyes rolled upward in their sockets to meet Myrtle's scrutinizing stare in a warmly liquid gaze that literally overflowed with gratitude. Like a pet puppy receiving its reward for a trick well done. And although it was too soon to be certain, that moistly shining expression told Myrtle that her captive animal had already ceded to her will and was nicely on the way toward becoming quite tame. At that moment, incongruously, Brenda was even more of a slave than Camille. Nor was it so incongruous, really, now that Myrtle's long-dormant domineering personality had finally awakened and shattered its shell.

-=13=-

It was a party. A sex party. An orgy. June had been hesitant about attending until she learned that an invitation from Topaz and Geraldine was considered an honor. The two didn't toss a shindig very often, but when it happened it was always a good one. This one certainly seemed so, although June hardly considered herself a judge.

Anyway, she was glad she had come. The stateroom lights were dim, but she could still see the small clusters of enmeshed naked bodies here and there. All over the place. It was a liberal education, practically, even though its emphasis was on only one subject. The subject - and she couldn't learn about it in any classroom either. The course carried no credits, but it was sure interesting. And fun, too.

Or at least it looked like fun. As yet, she had chosen to remain on the sidelines and familiarize herself with the rules of the game. Not that any rules were noticeable, hell no, unless it was the rule of "anything goes" - and that seemed to be swiftly broadening to an "everything goes" general attitude for all concerned. All except June. But she knew she would sail with the tide sooner or later.

She liked Topaz and Geraldine. They had been nice to her, making her feel at home before the action started. She wished she could chat with them some more; they knew so much about this kind of thing. But they were busy now, busy with each other on the bed, embracing mouth-to-mouth in a lingering kiss. Topaz and Geraldine were so obviously in love. But that didn't prevent them from partaking of other joys, no, theirs was a "marriage" that could include caresses from many sources and still endure. June wondered if she would ever love like that. She found the idea of it quite fascinating.

Even now, kissing hotly, Topaz and Geraldine were intimately involved with someone else. June craned her neck, peering through the semi-darkness to make out who it was. Not that it mattered. The only person she really cared to see was conspicuous by her absence. Camille had not been invited. June didn't know why, but she knew better than to ask. After all, she was a stranger here herself. Hmm, a stranger in a strange, strange land? Too bad about Camille, though. It was a disappointment.

Anyway, the girl on the bed with Topaz and Geraldine was nothing at all like Camille. June couldn't see much of her face; it was hidden down there between their bodies and kind of moving back and forth from one to the other. But stopping and staying long enough for an unhurried suck of each cunt. Her hair was brown, so it was probably Rosemary, the one who had volunteered to serve the drinks and was always following Topaz around like a doggie on a leash.

Damn! June felt herself blushing in embarrassment, aware that she had been caught staring. Geraldine's eyes had a hint of mockery in them, but her beckoning gesture was friendly, and June picked her way across the floor, gingerly avoiding a nameless stray hand that reached out to clutch at her. "Honey, you shouldn't be sitting alone," Geraldine said over Topaz's shoulder. "Find something to do. Or someone. Do you want to give our parties a bad reputation?"

June giggled. "It's a marvelous party. But I'm new at this sort of thing. I wouldn't know how to begin."

"I'll tell you how. See the girl over there in the corner? Kind of small and pink-looking? Her name is Daphne."

"I know. We've met."

"Fine, then. She's not really occupied at the moment, from what I can see. Go tell her Geraldine and Topaz sent you. She'll know what to do. Or better still, just go over and say you like her mouth and want to use it. Say it loud and clear. Act bossy. That'll get her hot for you."

"Uh-huh. And then what?"

"Then do it, of course. Use her mouth."

"Are - are you serious? Use it? What for?"

"Good grief, child, don't be dense. Use it any way you care to. Daphne is mouth-oriented, if you know what I mean. It's the center of her pleasure. So whatever you do with it will be sexy to her. Give her your cunt to suck. Or your tits. Or anything else, anything that pleases you. Just use her mouth. Stick your fingers in it. Your toes. Spit in it, piss in it, shit in it - whatever strikes your fancy, just don't be shy about - oooh; Rosemary, you hot bitch!" Then, with a shudder of apparent delight, "June honey, I've said enough. Now get going, you hear me? Scat!"

June scatted. She hadn't really believed Geraldine, but she spoke the prescribed words anyway. Loud and clear and bossy. Just to see what would happen. And somehow she wasn't at all surprised when Geraldine turned out to be right. Daphne gurgled happily and practically sizzled. She kissed the back of June's hand and all but fell apart in excitement when the unkissed fingers wriggled impatiently and made a bold entry between her lips.

After that, it was easy. June knew what she wanted, and since it entailed the use of Daphne's mouth she saw no reason to dally along the way. Camille wasn't around to make love to her ass, but with Daphne's mouth so available - indeed, anxious - well, maybe she wouldn't miss Camille so much after all.

Be bossy, Geraldine had said, and June was pretty blunt in stating exactly how she wanted to make use of Daphne's mouth. Then, with a quiver of anticipation, she offered her ass to the hot lips and penetrating tongue. Her body tingled - and all the tingling narrowed down to one point of concentration, the throbbing vacuum of her asshole under the drilling and filling of the soft wet warmth of Daphne's tongue.

It struck her as somewhat out of context, but she was actually thinking of it in terms of dentistry. A cavity being drilled and filled. As if she were undergoing professional treatment in some white-coated dental practitioner's sterile office. How silly! Her ass was being licked by a naked lesbian. And it didn't hurt a bit. No more than a novocaine-deadened tooth, though, so that was hardly an adequate comparison.

Then, somehow, the comparison didn't seem so silly. The tongue up her asshole was pleasant, true, but the anticipated excitement was still just a tingle. Hmm, as if her ass had been shot full of novocaine?

Silly or not, she recognized the lack of a certain something in the sensation. Daphne was certainly trying - and doing it well, no doubt - but the thrill simply wasn't there. There was just no involvement, as far as June was concerned; it all seemed so impersonal. What a disappointment!

But it was the same disappointment, of course, the same pang of frustration she had felt upon arriving at the party and searching vainly for Camille. Nor would it be eased by what was going on down there between the cheeks of her ass, no matter how valiantly Daphne struggled to make her mouth useful - and she was sure struggling.

June pulled away. Daphne looked up at her, dazed, moist-lipped, awash with passion that she must have vaguely realized was unrequited. June wanted no more of her. But it wasn't poor Daphne's fault, she knew, and it would be unfair to walk off without some significant gesture. Hmm, wasn't there something she could do to smooth over the -

"Use me," Daphne begged. "Use my mouth."

The room began to spin slowly. June's stomach churned. But the sheer novelty of it had her in its grip, and she culled the salient phrase out of Geraldine's advice and leaned over and pursed her lips. Daphne shuddered. But her mouth went wide. The gob of spit plopped into it. Her small body jerked spasmodically and her hand shot down to bury itself in her cunt.

It was an incipient sexual climax, more than likely, but June didn't wait around to see it through to the end. She had done her duty, using Daphne's mouth in two different ways - and certainly proclaiming herself a member of the breed. No one could accuse her of giving the party a bad reputation. And that, if nothing else, gave her a definite sense of satisfaction.

In the murky light, the nude female bodies appeared to be shifting from cluster to cluster like threads reweaving a mute-toned tapestry. June had no immediate desire to become ensnarled in any of the various knots, but she wasn't in any hurry to leave. There was so much to learn here!

Not that she hadn't already learned plenty. About love and sex and all kinds of wild perversions. More than that, though, she had learned something else, something quite unexpected. Until tonight she just hadn't realized how fond she had become of the willowy blonde slave girl Camille.

In a fit of despondency Brenda paced the deck, sniffing the night air of the sea but getting no lift from it. As yet she still didn't know why Rosemary was avoiding her, and the situation had to be resolved - but quick. She had to produce. Or else Myrtle would slip through her fingers. And much as she hated to admit it, she needed Myrtle. She needed the security that only Myrtle's patronage could give her.

Brenda had known for some time now that her prostitution days were just about over. True, she hadn't done badly as a hooker, since she did have a good head for business, but she lacked the essential feminine charm that turned casual Johns into steady customers. In the past few months she had actually been living off Camille's earnings, which was why the payment for the cruise had come as such a blessing. At least it enabled her to retain her pride, although it was merely a temporary stopgap and she knew that Camille would eventually become resentful. Even now the kid was beginning to show signs of restlessness - and anyway, she didn't make enough money to support both of them and have anything left for a rainy day nest-egg.

For a while Brenda had thought seriously of switching to a female clientele exclusively. But the idea of it galled her; as a whore for women she would have to accept a subservient role and be nothing more than a convenient chippy. Male clients were mostly jackrabbits in bed and easy to handle, but a woman who hired a hooker was usually pretty demanding and insisted on being catered to. Brenda couldn't quite picture herself making a living that way, bowing down to a lot of rich old broads, buttering them up with compliments, lapping their putrid cunts and worrying about giving satisfactory service. So either way her whoring days were just about over.

And that left Myrtle as her ace-in-the-hole. Only she had to prove herself yet, damn the luck, she still had to show that she could deliver the goods. And that meant, by hook or by crook, the recapture of Rosemary. If she could get Rosemary to lick Myrtle's ass, Brenda knew her future was assured. If not, well, she would soon be in a tough spot as far as her livelihood was concerned.

No wonder she felt so depressed then. No wonder she was pacing the deck alone at night. Hmmm, she could even hear the sounds of revelry coming from the stateroom of Topaz and Geraldine, and that sure didn't do much to cheer her up. There was a party going on and she hadn't been -

Brenda stopped short and held her breath. Wasn't that Rosemary coming out the door? Yes. Well, well! So Rosemary was pacing the deck, too. How interesting. An opportunity to get things straightened out, surely.

Lurking in the shadows, Brenda trailed her, becoming more and more elated when she recognized Rosemary's direction. The swimming pool, of course. The place where their romance had begun. The place where they had started out as friends and ended up as lovers. Or as goddess and slave, rather, and Rosemary was apparently returning to the scene in a sentimental mood.

Brenda made her decision swiftly. Avoiding detection, she raced around and approached the pool from the opposite end. There, as if she were all alone, she stripped her garments off, struck a pose for effect and dove in. Then, treading water, she feigned a gasp of delighted surprise.

"Rosemary! Hi, there. What are you doing out here? I thought you were at the party."

"I was. But it's getting kind of messy. I just came out for a breath of fresh air."

"How nice. Come on in. The water's fine."

"N-no. I - I'd better be getting back."

Brenda muttered a curse under her breath. She climbed the ladder hastily. "Oooh, the breeze is chilly tonight. Dig out a towel for me, will you?"

Slowly, with obvious hesitation, the girl obeyed. Her footsteps dragged, but Brenda glowed in exhilaration as she saw victory practically in her grasp. In a deliberately sexy posture, she waited for the perfect moment. Then, imperiously but with a smile, "Well? Aren't you going to dry me?"

"You - you asked for a towel. Here."

"Oh come now, is that any way to act? Dry me. You know how. Remember? You do remember, don't you?"

"I - I remember."

"And do you remember this?" Brenda jutted her backside out. "It's my ass, honey, and it hasn't been properly kissed for quite a while. No one can do it the way you do. So let's have no nonsense now. My beautiful ass is hot for your tongue. And your pretty tongue is hot for my - "

"No! Never. Never again, you - you whore!" Rosemary dropped the towel and ran. It was a moment of ignominy for Brenda, standing there with her bare ass jutted out expectantly and watching her prey escape right out from under her very nose. She had sniffed sweet triumph and the smell had turned to shit.

Gloom overwhelmed her, dark, mournful, foreboding, an ominous portent of the lean years to come. Her legs went limp and she couldn't straighten up. Instead she slumped to the concrete apron of the pool and burst into tears.

She couldn't recall the last time she had cried, it was that long ago. But she felt the hot tears welling from her eyes and saw them mistily as the drops struck the sparkling surface of the water and she knew the misery of failure. The security of Myrtle's friendship was fading away. Perhaps it was already gone. Unless - although the hope was dim - she could beg for mercy and get Myrtle to take pity on her. What else was there for an unsuccessful whore to do?

And at this point, she didn't even have the capacity for anger. It would come, of course, and she would probably slap the shit out of Daphne for squealing on her. Only she couldn't think about that now. Or about Rosemary either. It was time to stop crying and figure out the best approach to Myrtle. The hope was dim, sure, but it was the only hope.

-=14=-

Awakened by the strange noises, Camille got out of bed in the little cabin and pushed the door to the adjoining stateroom open a few inches. She rubbed her eyes sleepily and then stood stock-still in frozen horror, utterly devastated by the sight.

The ritual of the full treatment! Her ritual. Only it wasn't hers any more, it belonged to Brenda and Myrtle now. The fat woman was standing there arrogantly, ugly and gross in her naked obesity. And crouched behind her - like a slave! - Brenda was intoning the phrases of the ritual. Only she couldn't have been doing it very well, because Myrtle seemed dissatisfied and was looking back and criticizing.

"You're just mouthing the words, Brenda, you don't really mean them."

"But I do mean them, I do, I do. I love your beautiful ass and I'll worship it forever."

"Forever, eh? We'll see."

"I'll prove it to you. I want your ass, your beautiful ass, and I'll kiss it and suck it and lick it and - "

"Never mind."

"Huh? Myrtle? Please?"

"Forget the ritual. You don't do it nearly as well as Camille does. She sounds believable, at least."

"I'll make you believe me. I'll worship your beautiful ass better than any - "

"No. Some other time, perhaps, after you've had more practice. That's what you need - practice. Do it by yourself in front of a mirror. Practice, practice! Then maybe I'll let you try it with me again."

"Oh. I - I - all right, I'll practice."

"Good. But just so you'll know what you're practicing for, you can kiss me now. My ass. Kiss my ass. It's what you've been begging for, isn't it?"

"Yes... your beautiful ass... mmm..."

"Your tongue, dammit, give me your tongue! Come on, you hot slave bitch, do it right! Oh shit, Camille is a thousand times better. Brenda, I just don't know what I'm going to do with you. But I sure can't just stand here while that puny little tongue of yours is just barely tickling me. Come on over to the bed where I can get comfortable."

"The bed... yes..."

"No, don't get up. Just keep your mouth where it is, keep it glued to my ass - and follow me. I'll have to sit on your face, I suppose; that's the only way I'll ever get enough of your tongue up my asshole, you stupid bitch. You know, I've got a good mind to go and wake Camille and let her show you what a real ass-licker can do."

It was too much for Camille to bear. She had to get away while there was still a chance. Luckily the door didn't creak when she shut it. She slipped into a robe and then tiptoed out through the opposite exit, the one that led into the inner corridor of the vessel.

Then, dazed but unerring in direction, she made her way to June's room. She knocked and was told to enter. Once inside, everything welled up to near-hysteria.

"Camille! What's the matter?" In a loose negligee, June was sitting upon her bed. "Is something wrong?"

Something was wrong, sure enough, but Camille couldn't reply. She couldn't get the words out. There were really no words to tell of how she felt. The disgust of that scene back there still chilled her.

But the warmth of June's voice was already melting the awful chill. The concern, the sympathy, the tender look on June's lovely face. The beauty of her body. And somehow, the "something wrong" didn't seem so terrible any more.

"Come, darling." June opened her arms.

Camille tumbled into her embrace. They kissed. And then - as if the thought had occurred to both of them at exactly the same instant - Camille slid low in the bed and June rolled over upon her stomach. And they kissed again, a different kind of kiss this time, but June's delectably sweet asshole was no less precious than her lips and Camille lost herself in it feverishly, blindly, loving it in a trance of adoration. It was the whole world to her. She wanted no other. This was her true niche in life and she would never leave it.

It was an odd request and Rosemary wished she could have made it without being overheard. But she needed Vestal's help badly enough so that she had to ask anyway, even if the other woman was there. Leda had dropped in to visit Flavia and found her absent but was still showing no signs of leaving. Nor could Rosemary manage to get Vestal aside for a private word without appearing rude to the guest. So she just popped the question and hoped it wouldn't sound too ridiculous. Although the expression on the little maid's face was certainly one of astonishment, if not outright derision.

"Are you serious?" Vestal said. "You really want me to teach you how to be a lady's maid?"

"I'm serious. Or I wouldn't have asked."

"But why, for heavens sake? Are you looking for a job? I thought you were supposed to be an actress."

Rosemary bit her lip in vexation, aware that some reply was in order but unable to speak freely. She trusted Vestal, but the striking silver-blonde visitor was merely an acquaintance and it was none of her business. Rosemary had even dreaded telling Flavia's curly-topped little servant about it, since it was such a personal matter and almost sneaky, in a way. Well, not sneaky, exactly, but still not quite open and aboveboard; she just wanted to learn the maid routine in order to get in solid with Topaz and Geraldine. She couldn't outdo Daphne as a sex slave, perhaps, so why not pick up a few pointers from Vestal and try to make an impression by being generally helpful around the boudoir? It seemed like a good idea, anyway, now that she had cut loose from Brenda - and any possible aid from Myrtle, too - and was concentrating on Topaz and Geraldine as the only genuine means of furthering her stage career. But how could she explain all that without sounding like some kind of scheming vixen?

"Vestal, I am an actress. And I'm not looking for a job as a lady's maid, I just want to learn something about it. I'll tell you all the reasons sometime if you're really curious, but right now let's just say there's a part in a play open for me and it calls for my doing all the things you do for Flavia. So I'm asking for your help. Fair enough?"

A smile brightened Vestal's face. She threw a covert glance at Leda and nodded her head as if she had grasped the secrecy of the situation. "Sure, I'll help you. It might even be fun. When would you like to begin? I'll probably be busy when Madame Flavia returns, so I guess this is as good a time as any, huh?"

Rosemary hesitated. "Uh, well, I thought maybe we could get together later on when - "

"Don't mind me," Leda interrupted. "Go right ahead. I'll be quiet as a mouse. Just make believe I'm not here."

The idea of an audience was hardly to Rosemary's liking, but she didn't dare protest when Vestal agreed so readily and was already launching into her lecture of instruction. Especially since the lecture called for docile cooperation on the part of the maid-to-be. According to Vestal, the only way of teaching the subject was to play the mistress herself and treat Rosemary as a servant in training.

Fortunately the little dark-haired "mistress" was an excellent performer and the woman on the sidelines was soon forgotten as Rosemary became involved in the learning process. Prancing around and taking orders, practicing small bows and curtsies, she got carried away with the novelty of the game. And she realized that Vestal too was getting pretty stimulated by the - but no, it was Miss Vestal now, she had to remember that; anyway, Miss Vestal must have felt the same way because she was snapping out commands and even including the guest when she made Rosemary mix and serve the drinks, and they were all getting a bit tipsy and trying not to laugh - and it really was a lot of fun. Leda's interest was both sincere and sympathetic - and even excited, Rosemary thought, but the liquor had quelled her initial embarrassment and the extra woman's presence no longer bothered her.

"Hey, you're perspiring," Vestal said at last. "Am I pushing you too hard, Rosemary?"

"No. Don't stop. I'm okay."

"You sure? I feel kind of funny myself. Like it's a sexy thing, almost, that's how it strikes men when I'm bossing you around. How about you? Don't you feel it?"

"Sexy?" Rosemary hadn't thought of it in that light, but it did fit right in with what she wanted to learn. Oh yes, Topaz would love her as a sexy maid, the same kind of maid that took such intimate care of Flavia. "Hmm, I guess you're right; a good maid should feel sexy if she loves her mistress. Yes, Miss Vestal, I'm very sexy. But please go on with the lesson, won't you?"

"Not while you're sweating like that. Your clothes are all damp. Get undressed. A naked maid is even more sexy."

It seemed only vaguely logical, but an order was an order and Rosemary stripped her garments off immediately and performed her duties in the nude. Curtsying and bowing, naked, with drops of perspiration glistening on her bare skin, but Miss Vestal didn't ease up on her, no, quite the contrary, she demanded more booze and Rosemary served it and then Miss Vestal wanted to be naked too but refused to lift a finger to help herself. So then Rosemary had to do it for her, she had to undress Miss Vestal and fuss over her and flatter her with honeyed devotion - and of course the bossy little mistress couldn't let it end there, but that was fine with Rosemary and it didn't surprise or shock her at all when the all-important command came; she just obeyed it naturally and went down on her knees and sucked Miss Vestal's cunt the way a well-trained maid ought to, using her lips and mouth and tongue and doing everything she could to make her mistress happy and content with the services of her sexy maid.

Just once, with a touch of embarrassment that stemmed from a moment of poignant clarity, Rosemary stopped acting long enough to remember that they weren't alone. But then she heard whispering noises above her and she peered up to see Leda leaning over Vestal and kissing her. After that, she didn't feel like a maid anymore, but she went on sucking the hot slit just the same; after all, as a would-be lesbian on the good ship Lollipop she couldn't afford to be a party-pooper, could she?

Strange, though, the way all that kissing and whispering sounded up there. As if the maid-and-mistress game was still going on, somehow, only it was between Leda and Vestal now - and Rosemary strained her ears so that she could hear what it was all about and wouldn't feel left out. Not that she was left out, of course, not with her face buried in Vestal's juicy cunt and her head locked between those squirming, crushing thighs; no, she was right in the middle of the party. But she still couldn't quite figure out how the rest of the party was coming along. The lesson was over. No one was playing games now. And yet Vestal's voice had a noticeable ring to it, rising above a whisper every so often in a kind of imperious manner - just loud enough to sound as bossy as before. And the other voice was so soft and gentle and mellow and - well, acquiescent, that was it - as if it was simply yielding to the bossy one.

But that was only a minor perplexity, and Rosemary shut it out of her mind when the slender but strong little thighs clamped over her ears. She had enough to keep her occupied without eavesdropping. A cunt to suck. And besides, this too was all tied up with her career, considering how much help Vestal had given her. So it seemed only fair-that Vestal should be amply rewarded for her trouble. Let her make it. Let her come. Come in my mouth. Because I'm the best damn cuntlapper around this place, and I'm getting better all the time. And I'll be the best damn maid too. Miss Topaz and Miss Geraldine will be glad to have such a sexy maid.

Rosemary felt proud when the twitch and quiver of Vestal's hot cunt hinted of the climax on the way. She sucked with feverish diligence, hoping for a big one. The thigh-grip relaxed a little and she heard the voice again, much sharper than a moment ago, nearly as sharp as when Vestal had barked out all those commands during the lesson. Sharp enough so that it just couldn't have been play-acting.

"Now. Do it! I want it now!"

It was clear and to the point, and Rosemary's tongue was spurred to the utmost. But then the thighs clasped her again and Vestal rolled over and something new and strange was added. The sharp voice hadn't been intended for her, Rosemary realized, because Leda was down there alongside her now and doing the thing that Vestal must have been so insistent about. Uh-huh. Leda was kissing Vestal's ass. And probably doing it well, too; oh yes, Vestal was pumping up and down now, humping her ass up for Leda's tongue and then slamming her belly down into Rosemary's mouth. It was wild, really wild, and lying underneath all that pounding action Rosemary felt as if the up-and-down jounce of the hairy, pulpy cunt was fucking her face. She loved it. No man's cock had ever given her such a thrilling fuck.

-=15=-

When she heard her cousin enter their stateroom, June refused to let it intrude upon her pleasure. She sensed the slowing down of Camille's tongue but reached down behind her back and patted the blonde head. Only a gentle pat wasn't sufficient, apparently, and she shoved hard until her aroused asshole felt nice and full again.

"Just keep sucking, darling slave. My ass needs your hot tongue, so don't stop."

"Mmmm..."

The spoken words hadn't been necessary; June had said them purely for Stephanie's benefit. Then, casually, almost as if she had just noticed her, "Hi there, cousin. You're a little early tonight, aren't you?"

"Hah! A lot you care. This is the third night I've found you like this. What is it, a romance?"

"Romance. Hmm, you might say so. Camille is my slave but we do love each other." June wriggled her upturned bottom. "Isn't that right, you sweet slave bitch?"

"Ummm..." The wheat-blonde head bobbed frantically.

"Okay, don't rub it in," Stephanie muttered. "Just because you turned out to be a bigger dyke than I am..."

"Hey, what are you so upset about? I thought you'd be proud of me. You brought me out, didn't you?"

"Yeah. Sometimes I wish I hadn't. Everybody says you're the hottest cunt on the boat."

"Do they? In that case, I'm the one who's proud." June chuckled. "Although I haven't had everybody yet."

"You'll get around to it. Everybody but me. Because I'm just not going to be one of your quickies. And I'm sure not going to compete with a goddam slave. Every time I come in, she's here eating your ass."

"Hmm, you know something, cousin? I guess it sounds crazy, but I'd swear you were jealous."

"Well, uh, maybe I am. A little."

"Jealous of my darling Camille? How silly. She loves me too much to allow my own dear cousin to feel like that. Say the word and I'll have her move over and make room for you. It won't bother her any. Or if it does, she'll do it anyway. She always does what I tell her to. How about it, Stephanie? Would you like to take Camille's place? She's got my ass all warmed up for you."

"No, thanks. I'm no ass-kisser."

"I suppose not. You're really not much of anything, are you? You do give a fairly good hand-job, I must admit, but I've graduated from that kind of kid-stuff. Tell me, how good are you at sucking cunt?"

"Oh shit, June, what a question!"

"Sorry. Just asking. Don't say anything; I already know the answer. Pretty lousy, huh?"

"You think so? One of these days..."

"Promises, promises. Come on, little cousin, break down and admit it - you're just a schoolgirl. Unless, uh, unless you'd care to prove otherwise, of course."

"N-no. Not while she's here."

"Oh, you mustn't mind Camille. She's my slave. I'm afraid you'll have to take me as I am, baby, and I won't give her up for you. Or for anybody."

"Fuck you! And fuck her too!"

"Stephanie? Don't you wish you could?"

"Godammit, you don't have to act so - "

"Oh, shut up before I lose my patience. You want my cunt? Come on. Here. Suck it. If not, just be quiet and leave us both alone. No more nasty curses or I'll get angry and spank your childish ass. And I can do it, believe me. I've learned a few tricks from Hildegarde, among others. She's quite an expert in her field, did you know that? Although spanking isn't really her kick. She's an absolute genius with the whip and she's even promised to teach me how to use it. So you'd better behave, cousin of mine, or you'll get what you deserve."

"You - you'd whip me?"

"Perhaps. Eventually. But not tonight. You haven't grown up enough yet. No, I'd only spank you. So you just be more polite, Stephanie, or I'll blister your ass!"

"Oh. I - I'm sorry. Could I... uh..."

"Hmm?"

"June? Could I - would you really like me to eat your pussy? I'll do it if you want me to."

"What about Camille?"

"It - it's okay. I'll do it anyway."

"Honey, I'd like that. But the way you came in and acted so nasty, well, I'm sure you hurt Camille's feelings. So kiss her. Give her a sweet kiss on the lips so she'll know you really aren't jealous."

"Aw, Junie, you don't want me to - "

"Quickly now. Don't argue with me. And make it more than just a sweet kiss, make it a hot one. With plenty of tongue. Yes, kiss Camille and suck her tongue into your mouth, the same tongue that's been licking my ass. Do it!"

Despite her tone of severity, June was forced to suppress a secret smile. The implied threat of a spanking had worked some kind of miracle on her ill-mannered cousin. Fine. She would keep that thought in reserve. But at the moment, no spanking appeared necessary; red-haired Stephanie and blonde Camille were embraced in a mouth-to-mouth kiss and were becoming good friends.

June sighed happily. Her asshole felt neglected, but that would soon be remedied. And this time her cunt would get its share of attention, too. A slave in back and a slave in front. As yes, two slaves - and it would be great fun to complete the nicely begun conquest of her cousin. Although poor mixed-up Stephanie probably had no idea that such a prospect was even faintly possible.

Standing unseen in the shadows, Leda waited nervously, her face made up to perfection, her silver-blonde hair meticulously coiffed, her pedicured feet shod in dainty high-heeled thong sandals. Her outer garb was casual - according to shipboard custom - but she had chosen her casual best, and underneath it she wore her most expensive lingerie. As if she was going to a very important sex party and hoped to appear at her peak of seductive beauty when the conversational overtures ended and the orgiastic fun began.

And there was a party to go to, a party to which Leda had been invited. It would probably be a good one too. But she wasn't going. No. She had primped and prepared herself with the utmost of care because of the party but without any actual intention of attending it. Flavia would be there. Which meant that Vestal would be alone.

Vestal... Waiting impatiently in the descending darkness, Leda wondered for the umpteenth time about the obsession that had her in its grip. It was a kind of madness, she knew, and yet she found the irrational desire irresistible to the point where it dominated her every thought. A while ago, dressing for Adeline's party, the madness had come upon her intrusively, powerfully, sending explicit messages to her befuddled brain, shunting aside everything but the idea of seizing tonight's golden opportunity. Flavia seldom left her luxurious quarters - the most spacious on the yacht - for an entire evening, but she had succumbed to Adeline's plea and would probably be out partying all night. And the madness - with brilliant clarity - had penetrated Leda's hazy mind. The madness of her obsessive feeling for Flavia's maid.

How utterly fantastic! - a maid, of all people. Leda couldn't understand it. But she had sat there and watched Vestal put Rosemary through that exciting ordeal and had suddenly recognized that she was no longer bored with the cruise. She must have been pretty drunk, of course, but that was no excuse for the compulsive urge that had lifted her from her seat and propelled her to Vestal's side. Nor could any amount of alcohol have excused what happened next. I made love to her ass!

It still seemed like a dream, but Leda knew the truth: she had kissed Vestal's ass and had loved every minute of it. Nor had she even wanted to, oddly enough, no, she had done it only because of Vestal's demand. And oh, how demanding that imperious little bitch-doll had turned out to be!

Leda muttered an oath, wishing Flavia would hurry up. Then, as if in answer to her imprecation, the stateroom door opened and Flavia flounced out and disappeared down the deck. Leda waited a few more minutes to make sure the coast was clear and then she rapped for admission.

Again there was a delay, and then Vestal came to the door, barefoot, draped in a light robe. "Oh. It's you. Madame Flavia just left. Please forgive my outfit, will you? I was just getting ready for bed. If you hurry, you can catch up with Madame Flavia before she - "

"Bed? This early? Vestal, I never heard of such a thing. The absolute least you can do is invite me in for a drink."

"But I told you that Madame - "

"Darling? Please? I came to see you, not Flavia. I'm not going to the party tonight. And you can wear any outfit you care to. Or none at all if it suits you. But please don't send me away. I must talk to you."

"Well..." Vestal nodded. "All right. If it's me you came for, I should feel flattered. I'm only a servant here. But this is my night off, I'll have you know. So I'll entertain you in my own room, Leda, not out here. Now what would you like to drink? I'll fix something and we can - "

"No. What would you like? I refuse to let you work on your night off. I'll do the honors."

"Hmm, that does sound intriguing. Cognac, I think. There's some excellent Napoleon on the top shelf in back of the bar. And since this seems to be an occasion..." The little brunette shrugged and padded away, pausing only to make an over-the-shoulder request. "Bring the drinks in here."

A simple request but to Leda it was like a command and she scurried into action. Her fingers trembled, but she managed the job safely, pouring cognac for herself too although her preference was usually for a mixed drink. Tonight, somehow, it seemed fitting that she should agree with Vestal about everything - choice of liquor included.

The maid's cabin was small but neat. Vestal was seated in an armchair, the only one in the room; she accepted her drink with a small smile and gestured peremptorily toward the bed. But Leda was too nervous to sit down. Sipping her brandy, she paced the floor like a caged animal.

"Well now, Leda, here we are. So tell me - what was it you wanted to talk about? It isn't often that one of Madame's friends comes to visit me."

"It - it will be, from now on - if you'll let me. Often. Vestal, ever since I saw you with Rosemary..."

"Oh that. It was kind of fun, huh? Shall we do it again some time? I'm sure Rosemary will cooperate."

"No. I'm not interested in Rosemary. Except that I got excited watching you make her perform."

"Well, if you don't want her around - hmm, could it be? - Leda, would you like me to make you perform like that?"

"I - I'm not sure. Y-yes, I think maybe I would. But only if it was something you enjoyed doing. Shall I be your maid? I've already started, I guess. I thought about it just now while I was fixing the drinks."

"My maid? Oh dear, that's such a bore. I only did it to help Rosemary learn her part. And you're not an actress, so it wouldn't have much purpose, would it? Still..." Vestal's dark eyes glittered. "Leda, a maid would just be a bother. Now if I could just think of you as a slave..."

"Oh."

"Leda? Get rid of your drink. That's right. Now get down on your knees and we'll talk about it. Come now, don't make me say it again. Right here in front of me! Yes, that's better. Only it wouldn't do us much good to talk, would it? Of course not. So just kiss my feet and then we'll be sure that we understand one another. My feet, Leda, do you hear me? Kiss them!"

For the life of her, Leda couldn't remember how or when she had gotten to her knees. But she was there on the floor and it was too late to backtrack, too late for anything but to give way to the urgency of her emotion, and she bent low and pressed her lips to one slim instep.

"Good slave. Now we know. Hmm, my feet are a bit dusty, aren't they? Lick them clean, Leda. Lick all the dust off so that you can take my toes in your mouth and really enjoy it. I do hate dirty feet. It's lucky I have a slave, huh?"

Leda's temples throbbed. She lapped the dust from Vestal's bare feet and wondered if she was going insane. She had thought of her obsession as a madness, true, but this? And yet she rushed to get the skin spotlessly clean so that she could kiss the soles and suck the toes with lingering joy. Nor could she kneel and do it either, no, she had to get way down low and flat on the floor and use her mouth in the best possible -

"Yes, slave, you will come and visit me often. Right here in my cabin where only the two of us will know you're my slave. Nobody else, just us. And sometimes - if I happen to need your services badly - you'll have to sneak back here to be alone with me. You'll do that, won't you?"

"Ummm... yes... anytime..."

"Let's see now. Uh, tomorrow night? Late? After everything has quieted down. Yes, tomorrow night. And I want you to bring me something. That woman you're staying with - Hildegarde - I've heard she has a collection of whips. Pick one out for me. A small one, so that I can keep it hidden. Will you do that for me, Leda? A whip?"

"I - I'll do it. Tomorrow night..." Even as she spoke the fateful words, Leda shuddered and came to the conclusion that she was losing her mind. A whip? But she had already tried that with Hildegarde and hadn't liked it. So why was she saying yes so obediently and bowing to the will of -

"The whip will be nice to have around. Just in case. If you're a good slave, I may not even have to use it. But I want one anyway. Just in case..."

A paroxysm of ecstasy overwhelmed Leda. And she knew that she had found a nugget of pure gold. The dust was all gone now and she widened her mouth around one petite foot and all but swallowed it. Soon there would be other duties, other tasks, other delights; she remembered Vestal's delicious ass and wondered what her cunt would taste like. But it was a pleasure just to kiss these lovely feet and listen to the arrogant little darling say such wild things, and even if her lips never went higher than the pretty toes she knew that the remaining days and nights of the cruise would be sheer heaven. Not for an instant would she ever again bemoan the tedium of the voyage. Even in her own stateroom, she would have the exciting memories to think about, and she would spend every minute of every hour just waiting to lie here upon this floor once more.

It vexed her, though, that she couldn't suck both adorable feet at the same time. Her mouth just wasn't big enough, no matter how she stretched it. The defect almost made her stop and offer an apology.

But a slave couldn't stop without an order from her mistress, not even to apologize, and Leda continued her worshipful caresses as best she could. And then, delightfully, as she concentrated her kisses on one foot, there was an abrupt movement and the other rose up and planted its soft sole upon the nape of her neck.

"My slave," Vestal murmured.

The weight increased and at last the truth burst blindingly and Leda went feverish with the excitement of her discovery. And that too - the knowledge itself - was a nugget of gold. I know what I am now. Her slave... and it's not just a madness!

-=16=-

Her naked body at an angle over the foot of the bed, Rosemary sucked eagerly, bestowing every tongue-caress within her power upon the gold-thatched cunt that was so dear to her. She loved going down on beautiful Topaz. The combination of the blonde fleece and the coral slit was simply divine, and the smell and taste of the hot flesh never failed to stir her.

Alongside her, Daphne was making love to Geraldine in exactly the same way. And even though it wasn't supposed to be a race, Rosemary always felt competitive about her constant effort to please. She had so much to gain by it. Far more than Daphne, who was just a whore making a living. Not that she actually disliked sweet little Daphne, but there was a rivalry between them nonetheless, a competition for favor that Rosemary couldn't afford to lose even though it meant grappling with the all but impossible problem of beating the whore at her own game. After all, Daphne's career wasn't at stake.

Mouthing the delicious cunt frantically, Rosemary recognized the indications of the coming climax and took pride in her ability to bring it on so skillfully. But she heard Geraldine's rapturous moan and knew that Daphne was doing equally well. But not better, certainly, and that bolstered Rosemary's confidence. All this practice was making her a great cuntlapper. And thanks to Brenda's tutelage, she had already proved herself an ass-licker beyond comparison. Brenda - ugh! She seldom thought asbout Brenda these days. Nor did she ever see her except from a distance now and then. Brenda didn't get around much any more, she just stayed in her stateroom - or Myrtle's stateroom, rather; anyway, the two of them were in a private world of their own and even that nice-looking Camille was no longer a part of it. Which was fine with Rosemary; she never wanted to be close to Brenda again and she was happy here with Topaz and Geraldine. Happy to act as their maid and suck their cunts and lick their assholes and wait for her big break to come. Daphne was the only fly in her smooth ointment. And that would remedy itself pretty damn soon, she hoped.

At the moment, though, they were still running neck-and-neck. The timing may not have been to split-second precision, but both Topaz and Geraldine were in the midst of orgasm. They were kissing each other up there, kissing and coming together, embracing like true lovers even though each had a different tongue in her pussy. They always did that. Rosemary was used to it now, but it had upset her a little in the beginning to suck a cunt to its climax and then realize that her mouth had been merely an impersonal instrument.

But she didn't mind it anymore, no, she was an instrument, and she just lay there between Topaz's quivering thighs, lapping softly, gently, using the flat of her tongue like a swab, tender, solicitous, dutiful, grateful for the privilege.

Topaz sat up suddenly, swinging her legs over the side of the bed, "Ooooh, my back teeth are floating." She rose and wobbled to the bathroom.

Like a flash, Daphne was up and after her. Rosemary heard Topaz giggle as they went in together and then the door closed and stilled the sound. Damn! Rosemary cursed herself for being so slow; she should have jumped to Topaz's aid before Daphne did. Although she didn't really know what they were doing in there together - just chatting and joking, probably, while Topaz eased her bladder. And then maybe Daphne unreeled the toilet paper and wiped her pussy afterward, something a truly diligent servant girl might do. Rosemary hadn't gotten around to it yet, but she was determined to beat Daphne to the punch some day, and next time she would just sprint for the door and -

"Fetch me a cigarette, will you, honey?"

Rosemary leaped to obey, lighting the cigarette and placing it between Geraldine's lips. Nor did she forget to perform a little curtsy either, after such thorough instruction on how to be a satisfactory maidservant. She liked Topaz the most, but Geraldine was important, too, and Rosemary tried hard to be impartially helpful toward both of them.

"Thanks..." Geraldine inhaled with an expression of contentment. "You're quite a girl, Rosemary. Topaz and I were talking about you the other day, about how nice you've been to have around. We even thought of keeping you."

"Keeping me?" 

"Well, you know. As a maid, perhaps. Oh, not a real one, sweetie, but like a secretary and general companion maybe. Would you be interested?"

"I - I... yes, of course." The very idea was exhilarating; it would give her a chance for the big break without the risk of mentioning it there on the cruise and possibly spoiling all the fun. "I'd like that very much, Miss Geraldine."

"Miss Geraldine? Oh, you precious thing, you do know exactly what to say and when to say it." Rosemary blushed at the compliment. The bathroom door swung open and as the others emerged, Geraldine wriggled over to the edge of the bed. But she just lay there in semi-exhaustion and showed no sign of rising. Still aglow from her kind words and the happy prospect in store, Rosemary found herself liking the wiry older woman more and more every minute. In some ways Geraldine was even nicer than Topaz. Not nearly as beautiful, but there was something exciting about her. Especially the way she could be so sympathetic one moment and so domineering the next. In both directions Geraldine went beyond the more even-tempered Topaz - and that made her interesting, to say the least. Interesting and yes, exciting.

"My turn now." Geraldine heaved to a sitting position and stubbed out her cigarette. "Gotta go. But I'm so weary I doubt if I'll ever make it."

Later, looking back at it, Rosemary just couldn't understand what had made her do it. Her sudden liking for Geraldine, perhaps. Then too, there was the urge to show off in front of Topaz and let Daphne know that she wasn't the only one who could serve a mistress in the bathroom. Anyway, the idea struck and she just went ahead and did it without thinking. She slid from the bed to the floor and got down on her hands and knees, offering her back just as Geraldine started to get up.

"May I carry you, Miss Geraldine?"

"Huh?"

"I used to play horsie when I was a kid, didn't you? Come on. I'll give you a ride to the bathroom. You did say you were tired. So hop on your horse and away we go." Geraldine grinned as if a thousand funny remarks were bouncing around inside her skull. But she didn't say a word and just got on Rosemary's back and took a little swing at her rump to get her moving. Rosemary winced as the palm slapped her ass, but it didn't really hurt - and besides, it was the proper way to start a horse, wasn't it? It sure spurred her to action and she scrambled along the carpeted floor hastily.

The slender thighs that gripped her body were moist and sweaty from all the lovemaking; they made a slippery contact with her overheated skin. And even if she had begun this crazy caper just to show off and to be helpful, there was more involved now. It felt kind of sexy. It was getting her aroused. And she was almost disappointed when they crossed the threshold into the bathroom and reached the toilet. Geraldine spanked her bottom once again - hardly more than a love pat this time - and then quickly got off and parked herself on the John.

Rosemary's back felt terribly empty; she had lost her dear rider. But perhaps it wouldn't be for long, and she stayed right there in hopes of making the return trip. It wouldn't be fair to let Miss Geraldine walk when she was so worn out. No, it just wouldn't be right to -

"Rosemary..."

"Yes, Miss Geraldine?"

"I'm going to pee."

"Uh-huh."

"You don't mind?"

"Why should I mind? I'll give you a ride back to bed when you're finished. I'll even wipe you off afterward, if you'd like me to. Isn't that what Daphne does? I can do anything she can do. And better, I'll bet."

"Darling, you don't know what you're saying. Don't you know what Daphne does? She drinks it."

"She - she - " Stunned, Rosemary went mute.

"Daphne leans over and puts her lips right up close to my cunt. Then she opens her mouth wide and it becomes a toilet for me to pee in. She does it for Topaz too. Topaz loves it; she calls Daphne her toilet slave and goes absolutely wild when it happens. When we were discussing you the other day, that was the only thing Topaz was hesitant about. She knew you could never be a toilet slave like Daphne and she had her heart set on - "

"Miss Geraldine? Do you love it, too?"

"Yes, dear. Very much. Perhaps even more than Topaz, although I'm almost ashamed to admit it. It makes me feel sinful and wicked, but I get awfully excited."

"Don't be ashamed, Miss Geraldine. I'm not. I can beat Daphne at anything. I just didn't know what she did when she came in here with you. Is this it?"

"Oh! Darling, your mouth! It gets me hot just to look at you down there like that. But you'd better go away if you don't really mean it. Once I start - "

"Miss Geraldine? Please? Won't you - "

"Oh, you sweet thing, I do love you. Come up close, Rosemary; not close enough to touch me, but just - yes, right there! Now open wide, wide, wide! I'm going to do it, I'm going to piss into your mouth, I'm going to piss into the toilet mouth of my toilet slave and you must swallow it, all you can - ooooh, yesss, now, now, now! Ah, that feels wonderful. I love it. And you're as good as Daphne, yes, drink it just the way she does, Rosemary, gulp it right down and I'll love you for it. Mmm, I just can't wait to tell Topaz what a marvelous new toilet slave we've got. She'll love you as much as I do. And you love it, too, I can tell you do."

It was quite simple for Rosemary to do it and love it. She had so much to gain. And anyway, if she could turn herself into a horse so easily - and that had been her own idea - was there any reason why she couldn't kind of cater to Miss Geraldine and Miss Topaz and beat Daphne at her own game and turn herself into a toilet?

-=17=-

It all happened so fast that Daphne couldn't even think straight. She had been walking on the deck and then, wham! - like from out of left field, Brenda had slapped her face - smack, smack - twice - and the ring on Brenda's finger had cut her lip and she never even had a chance to explain that she hadn't squealed about Brenda being a whore, no, Brenda had just yelled at her and hit her and then had run off. Just like that. And the next thing, there was that blonde woman, Leda, so nice, so sympathetic, and would Daphne like her cut lip patched up? Leda had a first-aid kit in her stateroom, she said, so if Daphne would just come along...

Well, this was the stateroom, sure enough, but Leda had disappeared and she was tied to the bed and that crazy Hildegarde was standing over her with a whip. And it chilled her blood just to hear the swish of the whip and think of the pain, but her lip was still bleeding and she couldn't get her mind off it, no, she kept remembering how Geraldine was always saying she was "mouth-oriented" and it was true, of course, so now how could she use her mouth with a cut lip? It would ruin the cruise for her. It didn't hurt so much now. The whip would hurt more. But wasn't it funny the way she kept worrying about her swollen lip when she was scared to death of that goddam whip?

Jeez! It sure as hell did hurt. The whip hurt like blazes and Hildegarde was having herself a time with it. She looked so huge up there, so strong, wow! Oh, that fuckin' whip; it was tearing the skin off her ass! But somehow she wasn't so scared anymore now that she had actually felt it - and maybe it was good for her in a way, kind of like a punishment for the shameful life she had led. She hadn't squealed on Brenda, but there were plenty of other sins to pay for and it even felt kind of good to know she was getting what she deserved. Hmm, nice enough so that she might even thank Hildegarde afterward. Suck her cunt, maybe - if only this lip wasn't so bad. Suck her cunt? Suck the cunt of the crazy woman who had grabbed her and roped her to the bed and was walloping her ass with a big whip? Hmmm. Oh shit, it was even more crazy than Hildegarde, but the whip was making her ass hot on the inside as much as the outside and she could feel the sting of it right down in her pussy and she wished she could touch her clittie and see how stiff it was getting; it had to be that way, and she wasn't afraid of Hildegarde now - or the whip either - she just loved them, both of them - Hildegarde and the whip - so maybe she was ass-oriented or whip-oriented and not just mouth-oriented like what's-her-name was always saying; anyway, she was sure Hildegarde-oriented right this instant and she would prove it the minute the whipping was over; yes, she would suck Hildegarde's cunt and lick her ass and kiss her feet and her hands - the hand with the whip! - and maybe kiss the whip too, just to say thank you for waking me up and being so good to me - yes, all of those things, she would do them the minute the whipping was over. Only she hoped Hildegarde wouldn't get tired and quit beating her, at least not right away, because what good was a whipping if it didn't last a long, long time?

The fresh young loveliness gave Flavia a poignant twinge of self-pity. Oh, if only she could be that youthful again, so soft and slim and sleek, so free from the worries and cares of maturity. Just yesterday she had spotted more wrinkles deepening the corners of her eyes. Old age creeps up on little crow's-feet. And dainty red-haired Stephanie could make love all night and be daisy-fresh in the morning.

Flavia bent and nuzzled the jewel-like navel playfully, tickling it with the tip of her tongue and eliciting a sensuous shiver of response. Such a darling child! The sweet thing seemed to grow more and more adorable every day, and every minute with her was precious. Especially since the time was running out and the cruise would be ending soon.

Then too, Stephanie wasn't available as often as when they first got underway. The chummy relationship with her cousin had to be patched up and preserved so that there would be no risk of any tattletale stories when they arrived home. It was Flavia's own idea and she understood the situation perfectly, but just the same she wished it didn't consume so many precious hours. Hmm, maybe it was those frequent and prolonged absences that caused the extra wrinkles to show up like that.

But no, she couldn't blame Stephanie for the fact that the passing years were taking their toll. On the contrary, the cute little redhead was infusing her with new youth. Flavia recognized a recaptured joie de vivre in herself and she was grateful for it. She had rather expected to become bored with the affair and to let it fade along with the cruise, but her desire for the little angel was as great as ever. Even greater, maybe. She certainly felt passionate now, just tickling the tiny belly-button like this. Just being with Stephanie was like a shot in the arm that replenished her energy.

And with so much energy enlivening her flesh, Flavia couldn't dally any longer. She slid lower in the bed and let her accomplished lips take possession. The sudden excitement of the intimate kiss sent her into a swirl of ecstasy. Her tongue delved into the delicate pubescence, and beyond the sparse tangled tendrils of red hair the already moist cunt-lips parted to receive its caress. And then - oh, so delightfully - the fresh young cunt-flesh opened wide to welcome the thrust of her burrowing face. And the swirling ecstasy became ineffable.

It didn't matter that she was doing all the work. It was always like that lately; the infused energy demanded release and simply forced her to take vigorous action. And sometimes, in a way, her enormous affection was lavished almost slavishly - with no need for any recompense. No, this was compensation enough; just the uncomplicated act of sucking Stephanie's deliciously immature cunt was all she cared about. She could even come while doing it, reaching her own climax in conjunction with the crowning stroke of her tongue, the hot coupe de grace that turned the subdued little angel into a shrieking devil. In this alone there was sufficient joy and she asked no more of Stephanie.

And anyway, Vestal was never far out of call. Whenever her orgasm failed to materialize from the thrill of sucking this young slit, Flavia knew that her diligent maid would be pleased to answer her summons the minute Stephanie was dressed and out the door. Vestal was a treasure. Between the two of them - Stephanie and Vestal - she could see a future, a long lifetime of happiness.

Hmm, a lifetime? How odd. The maid, yes, but she hadn't quite thought of Stephanie in that light. And yet it seemed only logical now. After all, she wasn't going to live forever, so why shouldn't she enjoy -

Thighs crushed Flavia's cheeks and she stopped contemplating the joys of the future and concentrated on the more immediate marvel of the present. Hips pumped. The perfume of passion, sweet girlish passion, filled her nostrils. The succulence of fresh young cunt filled her mouth. She opened it wide, gasping for breath and struggling to swallow everything, the flow, the flesh, the scent, all the youth and beauty that was being bestowed upon her so bountifully. And then the sound came, the responsive screech that she had drawn by her own skill, and with it came the silent scream from deep within her own loins - and she drove her face into the refreshing, rejuvenating moistness of the delectably creaming cleft and thought, yes, a lifetime - the rest of my life! - as velvet oblivion at last snuffed out her consciousness.

The hot, cleansing shower pelted down invigoratingly, and Rosemary wished she had more time to remain under it. But she had to hurry. There was work to be done. Somehow there was always work to be done.

It would be like that from now on, too, since she was the only one around to do it. But she didn't mind, hell no; wasn't it precisely what she had prayed for?

The competition was over. Maybe she hadn't won, exactly, but the result was the same: Daphne was no longer a member of the group. Sometimes the stateroom seemed empty without her though, and Rosemary hoped she was happy. Although how anyone could be happy with that Hildegarde person was more than she could understand. Still, it was all for the best. Daphne had made her own choice; she was staying in Hildegarde's stateroom now - and Rosemary was glad to be the only slave that Miss Geraldine and Miss Topaz could call upon when they needed something.

And they sure did call upon her. Now that Miss Topaz had slipped on the ladder out at the pool and twisted her ankle, Rosemary was a very busy slave. Poor, dear Miss Topaz and her leg taped up and couldn't get out of bed without somebody to lean on. And even then the pain made her wince. So the luxury of a long shower was something that Rosemary just had to do without. She shut the water off and reached for a towel. "Rosemary?"

It was Miss Geraldine, still sitting on the John, drained, depleted; she looked absolutely exhausted. And no wonder, after what she had just done. Rosemary blushed. She hoped the shower had washed away all the traces so that Miss Topaz wouldn't suspect. Miss Geraldine was so wild! There were just no limits to the crazy things she did, and even Miss Topaz wasn't in on this latest secret. She would have to know eventually, of course, and would probably try it herself, but Rosemary rather liked the idea of keeping it a secret for a while. She loved Miss Geraldine the most now. A secret between them was precious. Uh-huh. Even that kind of secret. Especially that kind of secret.

"Do hurry, Rosemary. I heard Topaz call you."

"Yes, Miss Geraldine. Uh, do I look all right?" Rosemary had already rinsed her mouth out thoroughly, but she wasn't sure about the stains on her face.

"Let's see, dear. Yes, you're fine. Spotless. You were very good to me. Thank you."

"Thank you, Miss Geraldine. Shall I help - "

"No, don't bother about me. I'll just rest awhile and take care of myself. But do go and see what poor Topaz wants before she bursts a blood vessel."

Rosemary cast a last lingering glance at Miss Geraldine sitting there so limply but in obvious contentment. Their eyes met and locked and she felt all glowing inside at the expression on Miss Geraldine's face; it was a smile, kind of, and yet it said so much more. As if they were both cherishing their little secret and thinking about next time. Rosemary blushed again and licked her lips in answer to the smile. Then, giggling at her own bold shamelessness, she scampered out.

"It's about time," Topaz muttered peevishly. "I have to go to the bathroom. Give me a hand."

"Oh. I'm sorry. Miss Geraldine is still... uh..."

"Still on the can? Damn. Well, I can't wait. I'll just have to drag Her Highness off the - "

"No. Miss Topaz, wait. She's awfully tired. Anyway, it hurts you to get up, doesn't it?"

"Damn right it does. But I don't see what - " Then, dryly, "I suppose you could bring me something to use as a pisspot. Like one of those hospital gadgets. Do we have anything like that around?"

"I don't think so." Rosemary felt hesitant, but she just couldn't allow dear Miss Geraldine to be disturbed. "I - I can think of something better though."

"Huh? What?"

"M-me."

"You? You want to be my pisspot?"

"If - if it's all right..."

"But we'll probably get the bed wet. Unless you can keep your mouth right there and not spill anything."

"Oh yes, I'm sure I can. But you'll have to do it very slowly, Miss Topaz, or else - "

"Yeah, yeah, slowly. Sure. Come on, Rosemary, come up here and be my pisspot. Hey, I think I'm going to like this. Maybe we'll do it more often."

In a way, it was no different than being a toilet, but Rosemary didn't get the same thrill out of it. Besides, after that wild excitement with Miss Geraldine everything else just seemed tame. Even this. But she was glad to do it, nevertheless, glad to lie underneath Miss Topaz's dripping cunt and open her mouth and gulp and gurgle and -

"Hey, you're some pisspot!"

She didn't much care for that either, the way Miss Topaz was calling her a pisspot; it sounded so vulgar. But she kept swallowing without losing a drop and she could tell Miss Topaz was pleased, and that made it okay. Pleasing Miss Topaz was very important. Not that Miss Topaz was important herself really, but she was Miss Geraldine's best friend and that was important. Rosemary loved Miss Geraldine. Even now she still remembered the funny little satisfied smile that had made her blush and lick her lips, and she could hardly wait for next time.

-=18=-

The whip had a sting. It was only a small one, and Leda had picked it out herself from Hildegarde's arsenal of weapons, but it sure did bite. She was glad that Vestal didn't get around to using it very often. Usually it was merely brandished as a symbol of authority and Leda avoided its pain by scurrying to obey every command. Tonight, though, Vestal was obviously provoked with her and was really laying it on.

Leda figured she had it coming. Even though it had turned out all right, she still felt a little guilty about the part she had played in coaxing Daphne into the stateroom and throwing her into Hildegarde's clutches. Vestal had just found out the truth about it and was angry. Angry enough to swing the whip hard enough to make Leda beg for mercy.

Not that begging did much good. The whip stung - and the only thing that lessened Leda's agony was her state of excitement. She was always excited in Vestal's cabin. She got that way thinking about it and then sneaking in when Flavia couldn't see her, and by that time she was usually so worked up that everything became a sensual fog to her. Sometimes, afterward, she couldn't even recall the things they did together. It was all so hazy in her mind. It was that way now, even though Vestal's wrath had come through only too clearly.

But the whip was getting worse, and Leda made a last-ditch attempt to save her aching ass before the fog closed in. "Please, darling mistress, not so hard!"

"You deserve it, you bitch."

"But - but they're happy together. Hildegarde and Daphne. They love each other now."

"That still doesn't excuse you. It was treacherous to do what you did, taking advantage of a poor working girl like that. You might have done it to me. I'm just a working girl. Just because you're rich and - oh, stop whining and take your punishment; you'll be a better slave for it."

But the velvet haze had already closed in and the words were a meaningless blur and Leda could feel only the excitement of her love. The sting of the whip didn't escape her notice, but that too was mixed up with the excitement, and she felt humiliated and degraded and absolutely overflowing with passion! But she wished she had listened more carefully because she had a vague notion that something important had been said, something terribly important, and she just couldn't remember -

"All right, slave, I don't want to bruise that pretty body of yours too much. But you still haven't been punished enough, so you can't have my cunt tonight."

"M-mistress? Darling?"

"My ass is all you get. Here. Kiss it. Kiss my ass. Make love to it with your mouth. Now!"

It was a welcome punishment - a pleasure, really - and Leda sucked greedily, tonguing the asshole of her imperious little mistress in a transport of adoration. But she was still bothered by that vague recollection of something she should have heard but didn't. Oh well, maybe it would come to her later. Right now, though, her mean little mistress was twisting around and still flicking her with the whip - and between the prickling excitation of her own martyred ass and the exciting stimulation of the ass she was nibbling - mmm, so luscious! - she couldn't think of anything but how lucky she was. Lucky to have found the answer that had solved the riddle of all her past frustrations.

"As a slave, Brenda, you leave a great deal to be desired. You do seem to have the proper attitude, I'll admit, but you're just not physically constituted for it."

"I - I'm sorry. I'll try harder."

"Hmm, you sound like that car-rental commercial. But I won't be satisfied with second-best, I want the best."

"I'll be the best, Myrtle. Just give me time. It's new to me. I have to learn how, don't I?"

"If I thought you could... well, perhaps I'm being a bit hard on you. But from what you told me about your difficulties as a whore, is it any wonder that I'm doubtful? If you couldn't be successful with simple-minded men, how can you expect to please someone like me?"

"I'll please you. I know I will. Just give me a chance, that's all I ask. And it isn't really fair to bring up that business about men; I told it to you in strict confidence and because I wanted to make a clean breast of things - and now you keep throwing it back at me. I guess I should have kept my mouth shut in the first place."

"No, you were right in telling me - and you should be glad you did. As a matter of fact, Brenda, that's the only reason I'm being so patient with you. Up until then I just didn't trust you; I thought of you as a conniving hustler who would cheat me at the slightest opportunity. It was your frankness that made me change my mind. Once you spilled out your troubles, I realized you were being honest with me. Your sincerity pleased me more than your tongue, don't you know that?"

"Oh. I'm honest and sincere, all right, but that's new to me, too. It's true that I've been a conniving hustler all my life - and I'm honest enough to admit it. But I swear I'll never try to cheat you, not even if I thought there was a possibility of getting away with it. I need you, Myrtle, don't you understand? You've got everything and I've got nothing. Besides, you're too smart for me. When you hired me for this cruise I was smart enough to get by and I had a slave of my own - and now you've got me begging to kiss your ass. Don't you think I've learned something from that?"

"I certainly hope so."

"And as for my being a conniver, well, I can't quite see myself giving it up entirely. I'm not ready to turn over a new leaf; it's just not my nature - so I'll probably go right on conniving. But not against you, Myrtle. Never. I'll do it for you but not against you. I said I could get girls for you, remember? Okay, I still say that. But not while we're here on this stinking ship, of course. And not as a whore either, no, I can only do it as your friend. If you'll let me be your friend. Let me stay with you and I'll prove it; I'll bring home a new and different ass-licker for you every night if that's your desire. That's how I'll connive for you."

"Hmm, that does sound tempting. But every night? - no, my dear, that would be too wearing for both of us. Once in a while, perhaps, just as a novelty - but the thought of training you is more intriguing than the idea of messing around with a bunch of one-night-stand chicks. I'd rather have one well-trained ass-licker than a whole lot of amateurish know-nothings. So if I could be sure you'd cooperate..."

"I'll cooperate. I promise."

"You'll take my training? It won't be easy. I'll set up a program for you to follow, a training regime that will keep you busy night and day. We'll have to stretch your tongue, you know - and that means plenty of exercise."

"Train me, Myrtle. I'll exercise, I'll practice, I'll make your ass love my tongue. Just train me. But please don't throw me back on the streets. You can start now if you'd - "

"My ass, Brenda? Is that what you said? Don't you mean my beautiful ass?"

"Oh. I'm sorry. Yes, your beautiful ass. Always. I'll never forget it. You only have to tell me once, that's all. I love your beautiful ass. Look. I'll go down on my knees and show you how much - "

"Hush. No ritual, please, it only bores me. But since you're so eager to begin your training, I see no reason why we should put it off. So here goes. The thing I'll want most from you is a place to sit. Your face, Brenda. I'll want it often, and when the urge comes over me I'll want it immediately. And I won't waste time giving you orders, I'll just snap my fingers and that will be your signal. The instant you hear my fingers snap you're to get into position on the nearest piece of furniture. On the bed. On the sofa. A chair. Or on a hassock, hmm, yes, I'd like that. When we get home I'll buy a dozen hassocks and spread them around in every room. So you can bend backward and give me something to sit on right away. And I do mean right away! When I snap my fingers I'll expect to find your face under my ass right then and there - so don't you dare keep me standing, girl, or I'll be very annoyed with you. When I snap my fingers - like that! Well? Didn't you hear me? What are you waiting for?"

"Oh..."

"Ah, that's better, Brenda, my slave. A bit slow - but we'll soon knock that out of you. Now let's start those exercises for stretching your tongue..."

The two mouths were delightful, and June blessed the day she had decided to come on the cruise. She had been conned into it, of course, but that was water under the bridge. Oceans and oceans of water. Hmm, it seemed so long ago, the realization of her cousin's perfidy, the lonely nights of exasperation - and then that hand-job, the bowling grip, the thumb in her cunt and the finger up her ass. How hot it had made her! Imagine. Hot from just the frigging of a hand, scarcely more than a childish pastime. Had she ever been that innocent?

Tongues were ever so much better. Camille's tongue, so anxious to worship her asshole - and so fantastically good at it. June wasn't sure about the arrangements yet - certainly the folks at home would have to be hood-winked a bit - but she had no intention of parting with such a prize. Not ever. Camille would be her charming maidservant in public and her ass-licking slave in private, and nobody - but nobody - was going to interfere.

Luckily, money was no problem; June had an adequate bank account and would come into a fat inheritance shortly. So with college coming up, it was just a matter of finding suitable living quarters and practicing a bit of discretion. She would manage it.

Mmm, she might even entice Stephanie into the deal. If they took an apartment together, the folks would be less curious about their hiring a girl to do the housework. Too bad the kid had her heart set on joining a sorority. Maybe she could talk her out of it.

June squirmed and put a hand on her cousin's head. The tongue stabbing her pussy was just as anxious as the one in her ass, even if Stephanie wasn't exactly her slave. It wasn't as precious to her as Camille's tongue, but it served well and belonged right where it was. Not up some cunt in a sorority house. Anyway, weren't blood-cousins closer than sorority sisters? Damn right they were. So why not go to work on Stephanie now and get her ripe and ready for the tumble? It was merely a matter of turning the kid in the proper direction. And then, later - after the cruise - the idea of sharing an apartment and keeping Camille would fall into place quite naturally.

The proper direction, then. Toward me. Not that the redhead wasn't already turned that way, but as yet she was still only a part-time cuntlapper. June's rights to her services weren't exclusive; nor had she asked that they should be. Not until now, at least. Only she wouldn't ask, she would demand. Yes. Demand in such a way that Cousin Stephanie's surrender to her terms would be final and irrevocable.

"Camille..."

"Mmmm?"

"Enough, darling. You too, Stephanie. Or your tongues will be drilling right through me and meeting in the middle. I don't mind your kissing each other, but please, you eager beavers, not at my expense."

Stephanie giggled. "I could eat you up. And so could Camille, I'll bet. Come on, Camille, let's - "

"No!" June shoved the bobbing red head away. Then, somewhat more calmly, "Honey, I've got something on my mind. I didn't realize it until just now, but I'm really digging you these days. Like big, you know what I mean?"

"Hooray! It's about time."

"Maybe you won't be so happy when you hear what I've got to say. Stephanie, you mean so much to me that I've become jealous. Jealous of the time you spend with Flavia."

"Oh. I - I understand. But the boat will be docking soon and that will all be over."

"True. But I want it to end right now."

"Huh? But what about Flavia? This is her - "

"Fuck Flavia and her good ship Lollipop. I don't want you to see her anymore. Except once, maybe, just to tell her you're cutting out."

"Please, June, don't ask me to - "

"I'm not asking you, baby, I'm telling you. And don't argue with me. If you do, you'll get what I once promised you. I'll blister your ass so hard you won't sit down for a week."

Stephanie shuddered. But her voice was resolute. "June, I love you, but Flavia has been good to me. She likes me an awful lot. She's even got some crazy notion about my living with her after the cruise. So I can't just walk out and - "

"The hell you say! You'll walk out. And if you live with anybody, it'll be with me. But I told you not to argue - and you're doing it just the same - so now you're going to get it."

"June! Don't!"

But the protest went unheeded and June threw the dainty girl over her lap like a sack of flour and proceeded to spank her to a whimpering jelly. Stephanie's bare ass turned as red as the hair on her head. She kicked and struggled and cried a little and whimpered a lot, but after a while her glowing skin began to twitch and quiver as if each slap was making her hot for the next one, and the strange sounds from her lips were more like cooing gurgles of pleasure.

When it was over, Stephanie sank to the floor and kissed June's tingling palm. There were tears in her eyes when she looked up, but she didn't seem at all unhappy. In silence, except for a little sniffle now and then, she bent her head and began sucking June's cunt.

Only then did June speak. "Sorry if I hurt you, darling. But you had it coming. And about Flavia...

"It - it's all right." Stephanie went on lapping devotedly, her meek murmur tickling June's sensitive flesh. "I won't see her anymore. And I'd never want to live with her. I'd rather live with you. Only I wish you wouldn't wait so long next time I do something wrong. Like when I argue with you. Just spank me. You'll probably have to do it a lot."

June chuckled, holding the tear-damp face between her thighs as she twisted her body sideways and lifted her ass so that her darling slave Camille wouldn't feel neglected. Mmm, yes, the two mouths were delightful. She was already looking forward to the happy college years. It might have some effect on her studies, of course, but with a tongue to titillate her cunt and another to enravish her asshole, well, she would have a different sort of degree conferred upon her, a degree all her own, private and personal and certainly summa cum laude.

And it was too bad about Flavia. But the poor old bitch wasn't in the position to do anything about it. She wouldn't dare kick up a fuss. She just couldn't afford any ruckus that might get back to shore. Flavia was deathly afraid of scandal - and rightly so. A scandal would bring down the roof on everybody. So it was a clever move, June decided, clever on her part to choose vulnerable Flavia as the unknowing victim in her conquest of Stephanie. The little redhead sure wasn't a victim, hell no, Stephanie had loved it. She craved more. Which was just great, as far as June was concerned; oh yes, spanking that bare ass into submission had put her in a fine frame of mind for her two amorous slaves. Although neither the cuntlapper nor the ass-licker seemed much interested in her mind at the moment, even though they already appeared to be awarding her that degree. With highest honors.

-=19=-

"I don't understand. Are you trying to get me to whip you again, Leda? Is that it?"

"No, darling, of course not. Oh, it's so hard to explain - and I really don't understand it myself. But - well, it's like the feeling you get when a tune keeps going around in your head and you can't quite recognize it, you know what I mean? Only this isn't music, it's something you said while you were whipping me. Something that struck me as important, but I was just too hot and excited to hold on to it. So it slipped out of my mind. And ever since then it's been bothering me. Vestal, it's driving me frantic. Won't you try to help me remember?"

"I get it. You want me to repeat everything I said to you, is that it? Sounds like a waste of time to me. You don't act much like a slave tonight. What's the matter, are you getting tired already of sneaking in here to see me?"

"I - I am your slave. Always. But I'm human too. Please, darling, won't you do it for me?"

"Oh, all right. If you insist."

The little dark-haired maid was obviously disgruntled and Leda felt awful about it. And she would feel a lot worse if all this backtracking proved futile. But the damn thing was absolutely maddening; it was like a hole in her head, a vague void, a flitting shadow that she couldn't quite grasp - and the torment was simply unbearable. And now even this was a kind of torture, sitting and listening to Vestal's floundering recollection and forcing her own mind to remain clear and free of the dazed excitement that always came over her when they were together. She felt terrible. But she listened intently as the scene was repeated.

Vestal used the whip, but only as an aid, a device to jog her memory. It barely grazed Leda's skin, and yet its symbolism alone was enough to increase the hazy sensation of ever-rising passion. Leda came close to giving up. And then, miraculously, a tiny spoken phrase took root in her brain - and the seed sprang to life like a glorious flower.

"Darling, that's it! Say it again!"

"Huh? What? I said that it didn't excuse what you did, even if it turned out that Daphne and Hildegarde love - "

"No, not that. About the poor working girl."

"Oh. Well, you took advantage of a poor working girl and you might have done it to me. Because I'm just a working girl myself and - Leda, what is it? You're crying!"

Tears streamed from Leda's eyes, but they were tears of joy, and she threw herself upon her knees and wrapped her arms around Vestal's legs and hugged her close. And only then, with her wet cheek pressed to the precious, comforting flesh of her beloved mistress, could she pluck the blooming flower, the glorious idea, and present it as a gift.

"You'll never be a working girl again, darling. I want you. I need you. Will you leave Flavia and come and spend the rest of your life with me? Not as a servant - never - but as my friend, my sweetheart, my mistress. And I'll be your slave forever and ever; I'll take care of you and worship you and devote myself to making you happy. All of myself - and that includes my wealth. I'm a rich woman, Vestal, and everything I have, all my worldly goods - and all of my love - will be yours."

And even though her plea went unanswered, Leda felt the flick of the whip and the tugging fingers in her hair - and that was answer enough. She buried her lips in Vestal's cunt and knew that they would always be together.

Rosemary cast a sidelong glance in the direction of the closed bathroom door, fidgeting nervously and waiting for Miss Topaz to come to the point. Miss Geraldine had gone in there a moment ago, but Rosemary didn't dare turn away from Miss Topaz to follow her. She couldn't be rude to Miss Geraldine's friend, much as it pained her to remain here and listen to the inane chatter that didn't interest her in the slightest. She didn't care to hear about Flavia's troubles.

"Pay attention, Rosemary. This concerns you."

"Yes, Miss Topaz. Please go on. I'm listening."

"Well, as I was saying, Flavia seemed pretty upset when she told me, so I kind of took it with a grain of salt. The poor dear is desolate now that Stephanie has left her. And she's worried about losing Vestal too, so right away I figured she did it just to get you back."

"Oh. She - she wants me?"

"Of course, you stupid girl. That's why she came in and said mean things about you, about how you scrounged an invitation and are on the yacht only to con me into getting you a part in some Broadway play. Flavia thought I'd get mad and throw you out - so you'd go crawling back to her." Topaz grinned. "But she's got another think coming. I'm not mad. In fact, I rather like the idea of helping you. Rosemary, you've been very good to Geraldine and me; we've had a ball together and the cruise has been fun because of you. So when we get back to - " "Rosemary?"

"Uh, please, ma'am, Miss Geraldine is calling me. Will you please excuse me? I must go to - "

"What the hell, honey, don't you even care? Didn't you hear what I said? Forget Geraldine for the moment. I'm offering the break you were looking for. Flavia said you'd do anything for your career. Okay, you've done it. Now it's my turn to do something for you. If you're any kind of actress at all, I'll wangle you into a big production and - "

"Rosemary!" The voice from the bathroom made Rosemary wince. "I - I have to go now, Miss Topaz. And I don't care about show business anymore; I just want to stay with Miss Geraldine. And with you too, of course. I'm very happy with both of you. So if you'll excuse me, I really shouldn't keep Miss Geraldine waiting."

"Goddamit, what the hell goes on in there between you two? What does Geraldine do to you?"

"She - she shits in my mouth."

"She what?"

"In my mouth. I eat her shit and I love it. But if I don't go now, there won't be any - "

"Rosemary!" The voice again. "Hurry!" With a pleading look at Miss Topaz's incredulous face, Rosemary whirled around. She hurried. Because when Miss Geraldine said hurry and her voice sounded all tense and strained like that, she meant hurry. Or else. And if the "or else" ever happened, Rosemary knew she would just burst into tears and never forgive herself. She loved Miss Geraldine so much!

The night was chill and moonless, bleak as the despair in Flavia's heart. She clutched the rail and stared down at the choppy ocean waves; the water appeared dark and foreboding and yet, somehow, she saw a friendly sympathy in it. As if the vast and mighty sea was great enough to encompass all the tiny troubles of all the tiny humans on earth.

From one of the staterooms came sounds of joy and laughter, but they weren't for her. Maybe the bitches were even laughing at her, now that the gossip had spread and everybody knew. Well, let them. The cunts! They would laugh on the other side of their smug faces tomorrow. Hers would be the last laugh.

What a sad state of affairs! She hadn't really known how much Stephanie meant to her until it was too late. The ungrateful little wretch was with her cousin now, planning their future together, giving each other their youth and beauty without a thought to the miserable old woman who had so much need of youth and beauty.

The cold wind made Flavia shudder. Oh yes, she was a miserable old woman. The cold wind and the cold ocean were no colder than the cold shell of her bitterness. To lose Stephanie had been painful indeed, but she might have survived it with Vestal's help. Vestal - another ungrateful wretch! Tumbling into Leda's arms without so much as a by-your-leave. Repaying the years of kindness by walking out. Was there ever anything so depressing?

Well, they would all be depressed tomorrow. And worried, too, worried about the scandal. There was bound to be an investigation, and the crawly creatures would come to light when the rocks were turned over. Death on the high seas would create havoc on dry land. It always did. Especially the death of someone rich and important. Why? they would say, why did she do it? And the answers would incriminate everyone on board, every last lesbian cunt; oh, how they would hate her!

Good. She hated them. So let them laugh their guts out tonight; it will be my turn tomorrow. Hmm, too bad only the dark, friendly ocean would hear her laughter. The ocean loved her. Come to me, it was sighing, come to me, Flavia darling...

The End


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