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                                  Andrew Roller Presents
                              NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
                                                 in 
                                     ENSLAVED TO EROS

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                                         Chapter Two

         Under our bottoms, around our waists, well up our backs and down 
our legs, we were soaked.  We lay in a peed-in bed, like children just 
awoken from a dream that lasts too long.
         �Oh, such a warm, cozy bed, and now it�s been wet by your big 
penis,� Katie scolded Nick.  She reached between his legs.  I could see her 
hand moving under the covers.  She grasped his rod and jerked her hand up 
and down its wet length.
         �Unh,� Nick groaned.  He didn�t try to stop Katie, this time.  �You let 
out some pee yourself,� he replied.
         �Yes, but I�m just little,� Katie said.  �It�s this big thing of yours 
that let out the *most* pee!�  She kept yanking her small fist up and down 
on his rod.  Nick groaned again.  �You may as well shoot out the rest, while 
you�re at it, since the bed�s all wet!� Katie told him.
         I rolled over onto her. 
         �No,� I breathed, impulsively.  I reached for her hand.  I grasped at 
her small fingers around Nick�s stemming organ.  His reproductive organ.  
She knew nothing about the value of it, flush with its first stiffness of 
the evening.  How special that is, a man�s first erection, when he�s most 
anxious, most urgent in his lusts.  It should be teased.  Challenged, if 
possible.  Later in the evening his edge will be lessened, though he might 
be just as hard.  Then, he is a professional.  A professional fucker.
         I giggled, to myself.  I wanted Nick�s first erection of the evening to 
last as long as possible, that I might drive him to agony with it, taking 
him to the brink again and again.
         �No,� I told Katie, again.  I tried to pry her fingers off Nick�s cock.  
She was equally adamant that she must keep possession of it, and make 
him shoot under the covers.  Were we not wet enough already?  She had 
said she didn�t want to get sticky.  So why did the girl show such 
eagerness to make him spend?
         �Mmmm!  I want to suck him!� Katie declared.  She squirmed under 
me.  I kept her flat on her back.  I kissed her lips and felt her slim, bell-
shaped hips squirm under me.  Her tummy pressed its smoothness to mine.  
We were as sisters, but wanting differing things from the man beside us.  
I, teased by him in the cave, wished to tease him back now; now that he 
lay flat on his back beside me.  I wished to dominate a little, instead of 
just receiving it.
         �Oh, God!  Quit fighting over my dick, girls!� Nick groaned.  Katie and 
I wriggled beside him, both of us nude, the bells round our necks ringing, 
our chained feet clashing with clanging links.
         Jane threw back the covers.  I felt them fly off me.  My rump wiggled 
its exposed flesh, like a fish tossed upon a dock.  Nude, wet.  
         SLAP!  Jane�s hand connected with my bare seat.  I howled.  I jumped 
like fish do, atop little Katie, as if she were a dock and I were trying, 
fruitlessly, to fling myself from the dock back to the sea.  I felt the 
impress of her hand, though it had bounced off me, like a hand springing 
off a big rubber ball.  It stung.  I pressed my free hand between my hips 
and Katie�s and played in her slit.
         �Oh, she spanked me!� I said with a sobbing sigh to Katie.
         �I know.  I could hear it!� Katie answered, matter-of-factly.  It had 
been a big, flesh-splatting smack, full and hard  Though delivered with a 
slim, manicured female hand, it hurt nonetheless.  A mommie�s hand can 
hurt just as much as a daddie�s, if she hits hard enough.  Jane was not in a 
mood to be merciful.  But what had I done, except what she�d told me to?
         Jane�s breasts swung freely over my back.  She hovered over my slim 
figure like a lover, yet like a mother too, compelled to discipline her 
small child.  
         SPLATT!!  Jane�s hand connected with my seat again.  It thudded hard 
against my elastic hemispheres, driving them inward, compressing them, 
then springing away to leave them raw and red and humming with pain.
         �Ohh-woh!� I sobbed.  Jane�s spanks were delivered with the 
absolute maximum amount of force she could muster.  My sock-clad feet, 
so warmly encased by Jane earlier in the evening, kicked in the air.
         I rubbed Katie harder.  I still was hoping to get her fingers off Nick�s 
cock, by distracting her with mine in her slit.  At the same time, I pulled 
at the small fist she�d locked around Nick�s cock.  
         �Let go!� I cried, my voice tear-sobbing.  Jane, above me, seemed, I 
sensed, puzzled by this, for no one was holding me.  
         SPLAT!  SPLAT!  Her hand struck twice more, rapidly, hitting each of 
my bouncy red bottomcheeks in turn.  I let out a howl.  Still, despite the 
burning handprints across my bottom, I struggled on with Katie, trying to 
save Nick�s seed, trying to diddle her cunny to orgasm.
         �God, such an adorable bottom,� I heard Jane say above me.  She 
kissed my back.  Then, implacably, she slammed another hind splitting 
spank down onto my tushy.
         �Owooooo!� I hollared.  I clapped both my hands to my bottom.  My 
head lurched up.  My tummy pressed sweatily to Katie�s.  My hips ground 
against hers.  Our muffs teased upon each other.  Our bosoms bounced.
         �Oh!  Oh!  Oh!� Katie shouted.  I pressed hard against her.  Her small 
fist jerked impulsively on Nick�s cock.  She let out a moany sigh, wishing, 
I think, for the return of my fingers to her slit.  She tried to wedge her 
free hand between our hips but could not, I was pressing so hard against 
her.  Her bare feet kicked up on either side of me.  The bells on our necks 
rang loudly.
         With a sudden gush, Nick�s sperm erupted from his cock.  It jetted up 
toward the ceiling.  Then, arcing back down, it hit the head of his stiff, 
straight penis, even as more of his cum jetted up through his pee hole.
         �Ohhh!  It�s like Old Faithful!� Katie, wide-eyed, exclaimed, gazing 
upon his manhood.
         �Damn!  You two bitches jacked me off!� Nick swore.  He blamed me 
as much as Katie, even though both my hands now were pressed hard to my 
naked ass.
         �They must be punished for it,� Jane, above me, said matter-of-
factly.
         �Nooooo!� Katie cried.  Yet she continued to rub her free hand hard 
against my bare hips, trying to insinuate her fingers between us so she 
could frig herself.
         �After our bath,� Jane promised.  �Come, girls.  Get up.�
         �Oh, I--� Katie said urgently.  Jane pulled me off her.  At once her 
hands, both of them, one coated with Nick�s seed, flew to her cunny.  She 
arched up her hips and pressed her flat, indrawn belly upward, like a 
smooth piece of lumber being angled up for carpentry work.  Her bottom 
cheeks, chubby and round, tensed underneath her.  She flexed her thighs up, 
lifting her hips, digging at the same time with her small fingers into her 
cunt.  I worried she might become pregnant.  She was obviously virgin; 
Nick�s seed dripped between her labia lips.  She smeared it liberally upon 
her sex as she diddled herself.
         �Mmmmmm!� Katie cried.  She stuck her tongue between her lips, 
like the Frosted Flakes tiger does.  She licked her lips as she fingered her 
cunt with quick, urgent strokes.  Her legs fell more widely apart, baring 
her core to us, as if to invite a fucking.  �Whooo!  Whooo!  Whooo!� she 
uttered with childish frankness.  
         I couldn�t help myself.  Despite my bare, stinging ass, despite Jane�s 
ominous promise of punishment, I clapped both my hands over my sex.  
Even as I worried that they were needed elsewhere, to protect and assauge 
my bottom, I frigged myself.  I worked my fingers into my slit and felt my 
bubbies, stiff nippled, pressed tightly between my sinful arms.  I squeezed 
my tits, as if to offer milk to the air.  My fingers sought my spot.
         I was on my knees.  Katie was on her back.  Jane hovered next to me, 
and I felt, with my senses, her hand.  It didn�t touch me, but, rather, it 
picked up her long, leathery riding crop off the bed.  How curious it was, I 
thought, for a riding crop, used on horses, to be brought to bed.  
         I didn�t have time to contemplate on the crop�s presence for long.  I 
heard a swish.  I shrieked.  The crop struck my bottom like a hot branding 
iron being applied to one�s skin.  It left a bright, blazing line of pain 
across my seat.  I yelled to the rafters.  I squeezed my ass cheeks.  It did 
no good, only emphasizing the sting.  
         Another whistle.  Another stroke.  I fell face forward onto the bed, 
beside Katie.  Yet my hips, as I fell forward, lofted high, lifting up my 
bottom.  My hands stayed resolutely on my muffin, searching within it for 
orgasmic bliss.  My hiney presented its bare, squriming cheeks to Jane.
         SWIIIIICK!  The leather crop delivered another sharp sting to my 
tush.  I jammed my cheeks together.  My face sought Katie�s.  I kissed her.
         �Save me, Katie!� I said in an urgent scream.
         �Ohhhh!  I can�t!  I�m too little!� Katie answered.  But the real reason, 
for she was only a year younger than me, was that she was too busy 
diddling herself.  She issued an orgasmic cry a moment later.  Her fingers 
worked busily in her snatch.  My own, though I should have put them to my 
ass, to save it from further swats, jammed deep in my cunny.  I found 
bliss at the end of my fingertips, in my slit.  I burst into a mind-splitting 
orgasm.
         SWIIIICK!  Went Jane�s crop again, and it seemed, somehow, to top 
my orgasm off, though I didn�t like the feel of her crop at all as it sliced a 
new line across my bare bottom.  I fell onto my side.  I kissed Katie avidly.  
My tongue extended, found hers.  We kissed.  We moaned to each other.  
Tears rolled down my cheeks, half of pain, half of bliss.  Hers were all 
happy tears.
         �Ah, let me feel the warmth of your bottom,� I heard Rob say.  I felt 
strong hands come to my hips.  They gripped me.  They lifted me.  I thought 
perhaps he might palm me with his hand.  Instead, he pressed loins to me.  
His thick, hard penis rubbed its way across my ass.  It felt like a hot, 
bloated thing, rather like a branding iron, except much thicker, and not 
striking me, but burning its warmth into me by its continual, loving 
contact.  He pressed it between the cheeks of my ass.  He drew back a 
little.  I felt a sprinking of oil.  Soft words from Jane.  A grunt of approval 
from Rob.  And then, quite suddenly, quite deliberately, he stuck his thing 
hard against my anus.
         �No!  Not that way!� I shriekd.  I didn�t wish to receive him there.  I 
rememberd how hard and thoroughly opened I�d felt, when he�d attempted 
me there, earlier.  Let him put himself in me the natural way.  My back 
door was too small for him.  
         Nick took my cry of alarm as a temptation to try harder.  A girl�s 
resistance, alas, invites, rather than deters.  With manly determination he 
lifted my hips higher.  My tongue sought Katie�s still, though I felt a knot 
of doom in my belly.  He was coming in.  His way.  Whether I liked it or not.
         �Oooook!� I shouted.  I felt his penis burrow with a swift, hard 
stroke into my anus.  His cockhead, sprinkled with oil, punctured me.  It 
went up where things normally only come out.  Jane laughed at my 
discomfort.  Katie selfishly kept frigging herself, letting me tongue her.  
�Please don�t dooooo me that way,� I babbled.  Rob ignored me.  He thrust 
again.  I felt his shaft plunge deeper into my fanny.  I tried to squeeze him 
out.  He took it for approval, gave me another, more deeply penetrating 
stroke.
         �Eeeeek!� I cried.
         �She feels it right up to her navel,� Jane chuckled.  
         �God, she�s tight upon me,� Rob breathed.  
         �You are her first,� Jane said.  I wasn�t, quite, but close enough, and 
she didn�t know of my naughtiness with Nick in the cave.
         �Ohhhh, I hope nobody fucks *my* bottom!� Katie declared.  She 
continued rubbing herself.
         �How about your cunt?� Nick asked her.
         �Not that either,� Katie said.  �I�ve never had anything up my cunt, 
and I don�t ever want anything up me there, either.�
         �Then that�s exactly what you�ll have,� Nick said.  His penis, so 
recently milked, sprang to attention at the thought of relieving Katie of 
her virginity.
         �Noooo!� Katie said.  Nick rolled atop her and the scream she was 
uttering seemed to drown under the weight of his big man�s body.  He 
shoved my face aside.  He kissed her hard, upon the lips, as if to give her a 
token, at least, of his love before taking her.  Then he scissored her legs 
more widely apart and put his thing to her cunt.  She shrieked.  Nick�s hips 
jerked forward.  Katie shrieked louder.  He announced to us, like a 
bridegroom upon a wedding night, doing it publicly, that he was in.  The 
prize was taken.  He began to shaft her.  His lips glued themselves to hers, 
and her cries, so ear-splitting a moment before were drowned by his 
close-pressed mouth.
         We were undone.  Myself from the rear, Katie between her virgin 
legs.  The men humped us.  We suffered.  I found the penetration hard, but 
endured somehow.  She screamed to be let go but was not let go until the 
deed was complete.  She orgasmed again; her first with a man in her.  
Rob�s fingers sought my spot and brought me off again, his dick plowing 
my behind as if it were a cunt.  Jane laughed.  She whacked both men�s 
fannies with her crop.  But lightly; so as not to save either myself or Katie 
from the men�s wicked lusts.

         �Oh, my bottom�s sore,� I confessed, when I had at last regained sole 
use of my body.  Katie lay beside me, issuing soft, self-pitying sobs.  I felt 
my own cheeks stained with tears.  I licked my lips.  They were salty.  My 
ass felt like it had been basted in an oven, then skewered with a hot poker.  
Yet Jane was jovial, passing us drinks and insisting we sip them.
         �The alchohol in them will lessen the pain,� Jane told us.
         �Oh, then why didn�t you give them to us foist?!� Katie blurted.  She 
sobbed and clutched at the drink Jane passed her with both hands.  She 
downed it in quick gulps.  There was blood between her thighs, where Nick 
had pierced her viriginity.
         �Because I wanted you both to feel whatever was done to you,� Jane 
said in a pleasant, seductive voice, as if we�d just been to a fair, and were 
being served drinks after a hot day on the rides.  She brushed my hair out 
of my eyes.  She ran her fingers along the length of my tresses.  �Now you 
may both let the liquor put you to sleep, if you wish.  You can bathe later.�
         �Ohhh, I have to pee again,� Katie said.  The sound of both men, in the 
bathroom adjoining the bedroom, was loud; they were both urinating at the 
same time into the toilet.
         �Don�t pee on the seat,� Nick told Rob.
         �Don�t piss on my carpet,� Rob answered.  I imagined them both 
jostling each other, two big men vying for the same small toilet bowl.
         �Just pee in the bed, dear.  It�s wet already,� Jane told Katie.
         �Okay, I will then,� Katie said.  �I don�t want to go in *there*,� she 
said, of the bathroom.
         �Oh, don�t piss in the bed again!� I cried.  Yet almost at once I felt a 
sickeningly warm liquid spread itself under my bottom.  She was peeing!  
Just like a little girl, the littlest sort, too lazy to get up and go use the 
potty.
         �Well, then,� I said in retaliation, sipping my own drink.  �If you�re 
going to just pee in our bed, I will too!�
         �No, you�re bigger�n me.  You need to go use the toilet,� Katie said, 
even as the last of her pee spread underneath my bare seat.
         �Fat chance,� I said.  I paused, drew in my breath (it is ever difficult 
to do that which you�ve been trained not to.)  Then, nerving myself against 
my better instincts, I let loose my pee through my cuntlips.
         �OOOOOH!  She�s wetting the bed!� Katie cried.  She leapt up, spilling 
her drink on me.  With her long, brown tresses flying, she crawled quickly 
over me, dragging her chain across my peeing muff.  Jane tried to restrain 
her.  But she was young, full of energy, like a kitten released from the 
house after a too-long night cooped up indoors.  
         Katie dropped off the side of the bed, her bell ringing.  �I�m going to 
sleep on the floor,� Katie declared.  I knew there was a furry throw rug 
beside the bed and I guessed she was settling down upon it.  �And if I need 
to pee I�ll pee right here on the floor too,� Katie said.  
         I lifted myself up onto my elbows.  The last of my pee continued to 
jet from between the lips of my cunt as I sought her reflection in a 
mirror.  I found it.  She was on all fours, her bottom high, her face pressed 
to the rug.  She was pretending to sleep, though she was waving her 
bottom around in the air like a chubby white flag of surrender.  
         �Katie!  Get back in bed!  I don�t want you peeing on the rug,� Jane 
scolded the girl.
         �I will if I want to.  I can feel a little bit coming right now,� Katie 
said.  And, peering hard, I saw a trickle of pee escape from within her 
cunt.  It speckled the rug.
         �Katie!� Jane cried.  �You are very naughty!�  
         Jane swished her riding crop down across Katie�s seat.  The girl, 
apparently quite surprised, jerked her head up as the crop connected.  She 
let out a loud howl.  Her hands flew back behind her and grabbed her 
bottom.
         �Ohhhhh, that HOITS!� Katie screeched.  
         �Wait �til you get fucked up your behind,� I called out to her.  I felt 
merriment at seeing her tushy smacked.  My own still burned and I reached 
behind myself with one of my hands and rubbed it.  It felt hot.  Yet it was 
beginning to acquire a warm, lovely glow, as if it were meant for a girl�s 
bottom to be used that way, hard-smacked.  But my anal hole still itched 
and burned from Rob�s penetration.
         �Boo!  Hoo!  Hoo!� Katie sobbed.  She buried her face in the rub but 
kept her ass wiggling high in the air.  Her hands rubbed it.  Jane 
contemplated the girl�s seat, seemed to consider whacking her small 
fingers with the crop, but then flopped back into the bed instead.  She 
rolled over and kissed me.
         �She is sweet, don�t you think?� Jane asked me.  She kissed my 
cheek.  It was strange, feeling her beside me, for I�d just wet the bed 
again, yet our hair was soft and dry, hers long and dark brown, mine 
blonde.
         �Mmmm, you have not yet cum,� I said.  I placed a hand between her 
thighs.  I was angry at her for swatting me, for letting her husband have 
his will with me, and yet I felt a sisterly affection for her.  I aspired to 
be like her, when I was 19.
         �Oook!  I�ll pee on the rug if I want to,� Katie announced.  I tried to 
see her again, but Jane�s face was too close to mine.  Instead I simply 
relaxed, let her kiss me.  She urged my lips apart and fed in my mouth with 
her tongue.  I reciprocated by diddling her slit with my fingers.
         �May I pee on your hand?� Jane asked me.  I giggled.
         �If you wish,� I answered.  She sighed.  A moment later I felt a wet 
sprinkling upon my fingers.
         �Ohhh, you are doing it!� I said.
         �You said I could,� Jane answered.
         �Am I mistress now?� I asked.  
         �No,� Jane said.  �Definitely not.  �There is so much more I must 
teach you first.  You must be trained in all the ways of erotic 
enslavement.�
         �Ohhhh,� I sighed.  Jane put a hand to my cunny and rubbed me.  �Will 
you train me, if I wish it?� I asked.
         �Yes,� Jane said.  �But there is only so much a girl can wish for.  You 
must be pushed beyond that.  There is a certain force that must be used.  
Do you--� she gasped, for I was busily fingering her.  �Do you 
understand?�
         �I think so,� I gasped.  Her words enticed me, even as they sent 
chills of fright down my spine.
         �You must be led beyond what you think you can take, what you think 
you can face, or you will never know your true capabilities,� Jane breathed 
hotly to me.  Her voice was somewhat muffled by her tongue trying to feed 
in me even as she spoke.
         �Unnnh, yes,� I answered, my mouth wide to accpet her intrusions.  
Her fingers made my hips buck.
         �See?  I�m peeing right now!  Here comes a little *more* pee!� Katie 
declared from below.
         �Damn girl!  What are you doing peeing on my carpet?  Do you think 
you�re a dog?� Rob roared.  I heard his footsteps as he came out of the 
bathroom.  Why had the men tarried together so long in there?  I did not 
know.
         �Yeeeek!  I didn�t mean to!� Katie cried.
         �God damn, you wet all over my carpet!� Rob yelled.  I heard Katie 
scramble to her feet.  Her leg irons clanked.  Too late, she realized 
escaping by foot, a favorite of little girls who do naughty things, was 
entirely denied her.
         �Here, we shall train this young bitch how to be house broken,� Rob 
said, apparently speaking to Nick.  I wished to see, but Jane tongued me 
more fiercely.  I heard Katie squeal; I imagined both of them picking her 
up.  Her legs would kick, her fists would beat fruitlessly upon their nude 
bodies.  They would be stiff, from exploring the length of each other�s 
cocks in the bathroom.  I wondered whether Nick was bigger, or Rob.  It 
would be a close match, if they were ever measured.  I would do it, one 
day, measuring both of them with little inch-by-inch licks of my tongue.
         �Noooo!  I can�t take BOTH of you!� Katie said in urgent alarm.  I 
heard growls from the men, heavy breathing.  And then, as Katie screamed 
in the distance, I came again, on Jane�s inquisitive hand, and she came 
against mine.

         �Do not be alarmed by your desires,� Jane said to me in the bath.  We 
were in a large bathroom, white-tiled, immaculate.  It was up the hall 
from the bedroom where we�d peed.  It was not the bathroom the men had 
relieved themselves in.  Towels of various colors were piled around the 
edges of a big, sunken tub.  Bubbles bloomed.  Katie sailed a rubber duck in 
a corner of the tub; oblivious to myself and Jane.  She had been 
introspective since being taken at both ends by Rob and Nick; Rob enjoying 
sloppy seconds in her newly opened cunt, Nick showing her how to suck.  
�You desire willpower,� Jane told me.  She washed my back, my bottom.  I 
flinched under her caresses.  She used just her hands, no washcloth.  It 
would have been too rough, she said, on my crop-scorched bottom.  I felt 
her slim fingers grip my bottomcheeks.  She squeezed them as if they 
were halved tomatoes, ripe and round.  She yanked them apart, suddenly.  I 
cried out.  Katie looked up.
         �Oh, don�t,� I said.  �That hurt.�
         �Of course it did, dear,� Jane said.  She let my bottomcheeks ease 
back together, still held by her hands, cupped, felt, held.  I stiffened, then 
relented and let my weight sink fully upon her firm palms.  My bottom in 
her hands.  My body.  My self.
         �Waht�s willprowler?� Katie asked from her corner refuge in the tub.
         �Stop playing with that duck and scrub yourself,� Jane replied.
         �I want to know what willprowler is,� Katie said.  Jane frowned, 
ignored her.
         �Yes, that is what you are seeking,� Jane whispered to me.  She 
licked my ear.  I shivered.  My bosoms quavered on my chest.  They were 
round, like globes.  Their tips rose as she licked me.  �A will that is 
powerful enough to use you, to break your inhibitions and carry you 
forward to all the pangs and pleasures life has to offer,� Jane told me.  
�Ah, you are so special.  Your bottom is so perfectly round, so tight.  A 
temptation, even to me, and I�m a girl, just like you.  You bring out lusts in 
me that I didn�t know I had,� Jane breathed.
         I felt a tightness in my belly.  Her words aroused me and yet, as 
always, they sent icy shoots of fear up my spine.  I pressed my hands to 
my thighs.  I let them drift upward.  I gazed at my pubis, over my breasts, 
and saw bits of soap bubbles clinging within the tight curls.  I flicked at 
them with fingertips.  
         �After your bath, we must continue your training,� Jane told me.  
�But not here.  Here things are too easy.  And there are distractions,� she 
whispered to me, with a quick glance past me, at Katie.  �We must take an 
hour, perhaps two, and go elsewhere.  We�ll come back here afterward.  
There is a woman I should like you to visit.�  She felt me stiffen again, 
lifting my bottom up off her hands.  She stroked the cheeks of my ass 
lightly with her fingertips.  She made whorls in the soap on my ass with 
her fingertips.  It stung, a little, when she touched me, due to her hand 
slaps in the bed, and her crop slashes.  But although her hand had been 
applied fiercely, her crop had been more measured, less harsh.  I felt a 
warmth in my derriere where I�d been struck.  It suffused my whole seat 
and made me feel desired.  Desirable.
         �What-- what is the purpose of our going?� I asked.  My voice was 
high and quavery, like Katie�s.  It was my nervousness that made it so.  I 
felt frightened in Jane�s hands.  Yet, curiously, I also felt loved.
         �The woman is a former school mistress,� Jane said.  �She wished to 
be a model, but she is Russian, and she did not have the opportunity, under 
communism.  Instead she was forced to be a teacher much of her life.  
Then, after the Berlin wall came down, she moved to England.  There she 
was principal of an all girls� school, for a time.  Now she�s retired from 
that.  She was quite attractive, in her youth.  Almost as pretty as you.  
Now she�s older, of course, though still very elegant.  She still wishes she 
could be a model.  But she�s overaged now.�  Jane sighed.  �She respects 
great beauty like you have.  Once in a while she takes a girl under her 
wing, and photographs her, and sends her pictures out to modelling 
agencies.  Would you like that, hmmm?�  Jane patted my belly.  I said 
nothing.  I felt quiet, contemplative.  I put a finger to my lips.  �This 
woman, she understands the female form in a very precise and thorough 
way,� Jane told me.  �She regrets she is not herself still young, like you 
and I are.  She will not, of course, ever admit that.  But her jealousy can be 
used to our advantage, you see, for having respect for our figures, and our 
faces, and being female herself, she can understand us in ways no man 
ever could.  That�s necessary, if we are to become fully developed females.  
I have visited her, in the past, so I can speak from experience,� Jane told 
me.
         �What-- What was it like?� I asked.  My voice quavered.
         �It was an ordeal,� Jane said frankly.  �For you will be going there to 
feel the power of her will.  She has an indomitable will.  She is no-
nonsense, although you�ll be encouraged to deserve what she must give 
you.�
         �What must she give me?� I asked, my voice sounding more worried 
than ever.  Yet my titties stood up like two fine points upon the graceful 
mounds of my bubbies.
         �She must give you an application of her will.  So you can feel it,� 
Jane said.  �It will make you stronger in your own will to feel hers.  And 
of course it can only be given corporally, of course.  We will only be 
staying an hour or two.  We do not have time for the slow building of will 
that can take place from one mind to another.  That takes months, or years.  
This will be short and quick.  She�ll give you something to remember her 
by.�
         I was certain I�d pull my bottom out of Jane�s hands and refuse, but 
instead, I heard my voice ask, �Will it hurt?�
         �Of course it will hurt, darling,� Jane laughed.  �It must make an 
impression.�
         �Oh, I don�t wish to be pierced or....� branded, I was going to say, but 
I couldn�t think of the word.
         �You are much too young for that,� Jane agreed.  �This will not be 
permanent, except in the mind.  Do you agree to go?�
         �Will I cum?� I asked naughtily.  I still remembered how her hand on 
my ass made me frig myself with greater enthusiasm.
         �You are a bad girl,� Jane said to me.  She knew what I was asking.  
�Your hair must be perfect, of course, and there must be just a touch of 
makeup, perhaps a little too much for a girl of 13, to make you more 
deserving,� Jane said.  �She does not like to see young girls putting on 
airs, and makeup.  She is from the old school, and blames a girl who gets 
herself into various doings with men.  She does not blame the men.  Nor 
should she, in my opinion,� Jane added.  �I�ll do your makeup.  Not too 
thick, but just enough to show her your true opinion of yourself.  And of 
course, like I said, your hair must be elegant and perfect, yet girlish, as a 
girl might wear at school.�
         �I can fix my hair,� I said.  After all, I was only 13.  If I didn�t know 
how to arrange a schoolgirl�s hair, what did I know?
         �Mmmm, I will do it,� Jane said.  �Just relax.  Your time will come in 
an hour or so.  Until then, try to relax.�  She picked up a washcloth and 
rubbed it across my bottom.  I flinched.  She seemed not to notice.  �Let 
me finish your bath,� she said.  �Then we�ll do your makeup and hair.�

         We drove in Jane�s car.  Rain splattered the windshield.  I wanted to 
sit up front with her but she insisted I travel in the back seat.  I was a 
child again, being taken to lessons at school.  It was just she and I, and 
the rain.  Katie was left behind, to the good graces of Nick and Rob.  When 
we left, they were playing Clue.  Katie was having trouble.  I sensed Rob 
was cheating, to let her do better in a game she was failing at.  He didn�t 
want her to throw a tantrum if she lost.  They played in the living room, on 
the floor.  The men were clothed very casually, in jeans.  No shirts.  Katie 
was naked, preferring to be just as she was, which, since there were no 
clothes that fit her in the house, was just as well.  Her leg irons lay 
nearby.  Perhaps they would lock her into them again, perhaps not.  I 
paused to kiss Rob goodbye as we left.  He told me he�d be expecting me in 
a few hours.  Katie said I was going to see a prowler.  I didn�t like leaving 
Rob but I sensed he wished me to go.  I even guessed he might have been 
the one who suggested the trip to Jane.  So it was he ordering me, really, 
to go to the school mistress, I think, and that thought thrilled me, that he 
would think of me that intensely, and I wondered if he might not be 
following us, in the dark, to see what happened to me.  Nick could be left 
to babysit Katie.  I felt a rivalry between herself, and me.  Yet I sensed I 
was winning it.  Despite being taken away from him.  
         Nick was just a friend.  Perhaps a good friend, but I felt nothing 
special toward him, save that natural admiration a girl has a for a man, 
and vice versa.  I didn�t feel the dark, terrible lust for him that I felt for 
Rob.  So I sat in the back seat of Jane�s car, obeying what I thought might 
be Rob�s directive, and wondering, glancing back now and then.  Wondering 
if he might be following us.
         We arrived at a modest home, in a less expensive neighborhood.  It 
was set back from the street.  There was a park across from it.  The 
nearest homes were set a conservative distance away from it.  It was as 
if they were afraid to be closer.  
         We got out.  Jane opened an umbrella and, with no thought for 
herself, placed it carefully over my head.
         �A mother must take care that her daughter arrives looking 
respectable,� Jane told me.  We walked briskly up the front walk to the 
home.  Jane wore a black hat, a black dress, with elegant heels.  They 
clicked loudly across the wet sidewalk.  I wore a long mink coat.  It was, 
in my new role as her daughter, as the daughter of Rob, supposed to be 
mine.  But I was just their guest, really, not their daughter, so it was 
actually Jane�s.  I wore high heels.
         We reached the door.  Jane knocked on it for me.  We waited a 
moment in the rain.  The house looked dark.  Then I saw a light come on in 
the front window.  A moment later the door opened.
         �Hello.  Ah, Jane.  Your neice is here,� the woman who answered the 
door said.
         �Yes,� Jane replied.  Now my role had shifted, slightly.  I was Jane�s 
neice, not her daughter.  All was fluid.  I didn�t matter.  What mattered 
was that I was doing Rob�s wishes, and he wished me here.  For an hour.  It 
would be quick, short.  And...
         �Come in, come in,� the woman said.  She looked to be in her late 
40�s.  �Welcome to my private school,� the woman said.
         �I just need a baby sitter for an hour or so, while I go out,� Jane 
said.
         �Of course,� the woman replied.  She closed the door behind us.  The 
room we were in was a living room.  It looked pleasant, respectable.  
There was a fire going in one corner.
         �She�s all dressed for bed,� Jane said.  �She�s already had her bath.�
         �Fine,� the woman answered.  She looked at me, piercingly.  Then her 
eyes softend.  �May I please take your coat?� she asked.  But it was not 
really a question.  More like an order.
         �Yes, ma�am,� I answered.  I thought I heard a car pull up along the 
curb, where we�d parked.  
         The woman took my coat.  Underneath it I wore only a sheer 
camisole.  It was short, reaching only down to my belly button.  It had no 
cups.  Instead, graceful holes had been cut out of it for my bosoms, letting 
them be seen.  My titties bulged through my cami, their tips quivering and 
stiff.  My cami was decorated with lace underneath the undersides of my 
bosoms.  Above, where there was only the bare outline of a bra, I shivered 
as my nude bosoms jutted into the coolness of the room.  It felt as if I 
was all bosom, boldly going forth with them to meet my fate.  Below, the 
too-short shirt of my cami, attached to a bra with no cups, made my bare 
pussy feel like the center of the earth.  Hot, hungry, wishing to consume 
everthing inside it.  I was, it seemed, either outthrusting tits or inseeking 
pussy.  Both at once, really, and the women�s eyes darted between my 
breasts and my cunny with knowing, feminine eyes.  Men would have been 
obsessed with the state of their cocks.  But not two satisfied, elegantly 
dressed women.  They understood my body and my desires in ways men did 
not.  Even in ways I did not, for I was only 13.  
         I blushed, standing before them.  With a sudden regretful modesty I 
pulled on the hem of my cami.  But it fell no lower than my navel.  There 
was no making it longer.  Not now.  I was here, I had been presented.  The 
woman greeting us had taken account of me now.  
         In back, my entire back was bare, from my neck all the way down to 
my heels.  Only where the bra/halter part of my cami closed, in the back, 
was there any covering.  My too-short cami was cut in such a way that it 
swept off the sides of my back, not covering it at all.  Only my belly was 
covered by it, in front, and then only down to my navel.  
         Bare hipped, without panties, showing my bush, my thighs, my 
calves, I tried to act discreet.  I glanced at a statue of a man carrying a 
bucket on his shoulder, that stood on a table that held a lamp.  I touched it, 
lightly, stroking the breadth of his shoulders.  There was a vase of 
flowers nearby and I bent and sniffed it.  A big broad-leaved plant stood in 
a pot on the floor.  I touched its leaves, stroked them, and marvelled at 
how sharp its leaves became at their tips.
         The women gazed at me as I glanced at the various things, as if 
waiting for a kitten to accustom itself to a new house.  But even a cat 
would have been covered with fur.  I was nude, save for the nothing cami 
hanging over my belly.  Even my hair was pulled out of the way, so that it 
wouldn�t swish across my back.  I wore it pinned up, in blonde pigtails on 
either side of my face.  Big, decorative bows, that matched the color of my 
cami, tied my hair off into the twin tails.
         �This is her sleep wear?� the older woman asked, taking my mink 
coat from me.
         �It is what modern American girls wear,� Jane explained.  
         �And the makeup?  She wears makeup to bed?� the woman asked.  
She hung my coat in a closet by the front door.  Jane closed her umbrella 
and sat it by the front door and removed her own coat.  Underneath, she 
wore a cire dress.  It was black, like her coat.  It was decollette in its 
cut, almost too much, showing her cleavage almost to the red circles of 
her nipples.  Her breasts were white, untanned.  Her arms and face had 
been tanned, last summer, but she�d lost most of her tan during the fall.  
There was a slit up each side of her dress.  When she walked it could be 
seen that she wore no panties, for the slits ran all the way from the 
bottom of her long dress, where her heels stood poised, all the way up to 
her waist.
         Jane was carrying a small bag.  She set it down on the floor.  She 
drew several items from it.
         �I brought her bottle,� Jane said to the woman.  �It has warm milk in 
it, in case she gets hungry.�
         �Very good,� the woman said.  Her eyes flicked back and forth, 
between myself and Jane.  I wanted to giggle, this was so awkward, yet it 
was serious too, for Rob had ordered it and it was, truly, in all its 
silliness, designed to teach me something.  Something I�d remember for a 
long time.
         �And here is her bear,� Jane said.  She showed the woman a small 
teddy bear.  �And here I have a change of diapers.  She refused to wear any, 
as you can see.  There�s some baby powder also.�
         �Very good,� the woman said.  �But I do not like her refusing to wear 
her diapers.�
         �She wet the bed this evening,� Jane said.  �She claims she�s a big 
girl, though, and donesn�t need diapers.  Of course big girls wear panties, 
but she refuses those too, as you can see.�
         �Yes,� the woman agreed.  �Have you been spanking her regularly?�
         �Not regularly,� Jane replied.
         �That is the problem,� the woman said.  She looked at me.  I shrank 
under her gaze.  I felt both foolish and frightened at the same time.  And 
aroused, too, for I had heard heavy footsteps pass by the door, outside.  
Somewhere, now, a door opened and closed, inside the house.
         �Who is that?� I asked.
         �I didn�t hear anyone,� the woman answered.
         �Nor did I,� said Jane.  I looked in her eyes and saw she had, but 
wasn�t admitting to it.
         �You require me to look after her while you go out?� the woman 
asked.  
         �Yes,� Jane said.
         �You are provocatively dressed,� the woman told Jane.  �No wonder 
she won�t wear her panties.  You don�t have any on either.�
         �Ah, it is cooler, though, without them,� Jane said.
         �It is downright cold outside.  This is the fall,� the woman told Jane.  
�Perhaps you�d better stay indoors, while I look after her.  Without panties 
on, you might catch cold.�
         �As you wish,� Jane said.
         �It is good that you brought her,� the woman said.  She took my hand.  
�You will call me Miss Wood,� she told me.  �It is not my real name, but 
real names are unimportant here.  And what shall you be known by, young 
lady?�
         �Raquella,� I said, making up a name.  It was Raquel, from Raquel 
Welch, who�d I�d seen in Barbarella, and When Dinosaurs Ruled the Earth.  I 
added an �a� because the woman had a thoroughly English accent, and I 
wanted to be European.  �It is French,� I told her.
         �Raquella,� the woman said.  She rolled the �r� as they do in Europe.  
It sounded classy.  �A French girl.  I see.  Well I had some French girls in 
my school in England, and they always had a very high opinion of 
themselves.  They wore too much make up and insisted on violating the 
dress code, not wearing their uniforms properly, but shortening their 
skirts.  And not wearing bras, under their blouses.�
         �That is exactly how I dress at my school,� I told her.  Which was 
true, in part.  I�d gotten in trouble for bouncing around in a t-shirt, with no 
bra on.  I�d been late for the bus.  I used to skip wearing a bra last year, 
sometimes, and nobody noticed.  But this year, I guess my boobs were 
bigger.  They noticed.  I had to spend time in study hall, after school, for 
not wearing a bra.  Which only made the day longer, and meant I spent even 
longer without a bra on.  School can be stupid sometimes.
         �Well, Raquella, I am sorry to see you dress for bed so 
provacatively,� Miss Wood told me.  I heard footsteps in the house.  I 
glanced at Jane.  She pretended to ignore them.  I didn�t know whether Miss 
Wood heard them or not.  Her hair was beginning to turn grey.  She had 
lines on her face.  Perhaps her hearing, too, was not what it once was.  
�However, there is a certain advantage to your attire,� Miss Wood told me.  
�If you should need to be disciplined, your bottom is already bare.  Turn 
around.  Let me see it.�
         I put my hands to my seat.  I gulped.  Things were getting more overt 
now.  With a quick glance at Jane, who frowned at my recalcitrance, I 
turned and showed my bottom to Miss Wood.  I was sure Rob watched, from 
somewhere in the house.  I was glad he�d followed us, leaving Katie with 
Nick.  I had him almost to myself now, except for his wife.  Miss Wood 
obviously was too old to hold his interest.
         �Take away your hands,� Miss Wood told me.  �You have a lovely 
bottom.  If you�re not going to wear panties, then you shouldn�t try to hide 
it with your hands.�  
         Slowly I withdrew my hands from my ass.
         �Ah,� the woman said.  She bent.  She moved closer to me.  She 
peered at my naked seat.  �I see she has several marks upon it.  They are?  
Ah, yes.  Temporary.  From the use of an implement, I assume?�
         �Yes,� Jane said.  �She wet the bed earlier this evening, as I said.�
         Miss Wood nodded.  �I�m glad to see you�re not entirely remiss in 
your disciplining of her,� she said.  �But such a round, white, lovely 
bottom as she has is very enticing to men.  She will get herself pregnant 
if she isn�t properly educated.�
         �Yes, I agree,� Jane replied.  I gulped.  Miss Wood�s words were 
closer to home than she knew.  Even now, I wasn�t sure when I�d last 
swallowed a pill.  Somehow, though, I�d managed to escape the cave I�d 
shared with Nick and his friends, without becoming enceinte.
         �Let us go into my class room,� Miss Wood suggested to Jane.  �I 
would be remiss not to give her a few evening lessons, before tucking her 
into bed.  With your approval, of course.�
         �Please do with her whatever you feel is appropriate,� Jane said.  
�Bambi, I mean, Raquella, dear, Miss Wood will escort you into her class 
room and have you write a little on the board, and also show her your 
posture, and a few other things.  Please understand that my husband Rob 
made me take lessons from Miss Wood too, some months back, so I am only 
requiring of you what was required of me.�
         �Of course,�  I answered.  I felt she wanted me to call her mommie, 
but I couldn�t bring myself to be that foolish.  Especially given what she�d 
promised me in the bath, that this was a visit that would introduce me to 
the force of feminine will.  In a way I�d remember.
         Miss Wood took my hand.  It was firm.  It felt cold.  It made me 
flinch, the coldness of it.  It was coated with cream like older women 
sometimes smear all over their faces.  My body felt flushed and warm, 
despite my nudity.  My babydoll flipped absently round my waist.  My heels 
were high, too high, spiked heels that made me feel tall and made it 
difficult for me to walk unless I concentrated only on walking.  Yet Jane 
had insisted I wear them.  We�d stopped at a shoe store on the way over, 
trading furry slippers I wore for heels.  I had, of course, kept my mink 
coat on in the store, to the bemusement of the curious store clerk. 
         Now I was free of the coat, and without the collar I�d worn earlier, 
or the foot manacles.  I liked my babydoll but I sensed its overt sexiness 
displeased Miss Wood.  Did she enjoy being displeased?  I couldn�t tell.  
Perhaps a part of her enjoyed it, but another, deeper part of her was 
envious.  Jane had said she�d never been as pretty as me.
         We walked through Miss Wood�s living room, down a hall.
         �Raquel, you are a spoilt American girl,� Miss Wood told me.  �We 
were very poor in Russia.  We did not have all your priviledges and luxuries 
that you have.�  I wished to remind her that I was French, in the game we 
were playing for Rob, but said nothing.  �Your parents have pampered you, 
and your American teachers also, Raquel,� Miss Wood told me.  She put her 
hand on the handle of a door in the hall.  She opened it.  Inside, I saw a 
small class room.  It had a globe, a flag.  A Russian flag.  There was also a 
blackboard, and a single desk, plus several chairs.  A paper strip of 
alphabet letters hung above the blackboard.  There was a pointer standing 
in a corner next to the blackboard.  When I looked closer, I saw it wasn�t a 
pointer, but a cane.  It was made of bamboo.
         �Go to the blackboard and draw a male penis for me,� Miss Wood 
said.  �That�s right.  A male penis.  With the testicular sac underneath it.  I 
don�t think you�ve been paying attention in health class.  Draw it out for 
me, and label all the parts.  Can you do that?�
         I looked at her rather blankly.  I�d seen a cock.  I could draw a cock.  
But to label everything.  Well, I would try.  She let go of my hand.  I began 
walking toward the blackboard.
         �No, you are doing it all wrong,� Miss Wood told me.  I paused in 
mid-stride.  I hadn�t even reached the blackboard yet.  How could I be doing 
anything wrong?
         �You American girls,� Miss Wood scolded.  �Do you think you are 
going to be President of the United States?  Well, perhaps.  If you don�t get 
yourself pregnant.  But you, Raquelle, have the body of a fashion model.  I 
want you to walk as befits your build.  Since you are built like a model, 
you will walk like one.  In the middle ages people accepted their proper 
station in life.  They did not aspire to what they had not been born for.  You 
have a model�s body.  Therefore, you will learn to walk like a model.  
Swing your hips.  Give a certain lift to your step when you walk, so that 
your fine young bosoms bounce.�
         I obeyed.  Hoping Rob was watching, I walked with a salacious grind 
to my hips.  I let my boobies bounce as much as gravity would allow.  I felt 
the tips stiffen to hard coral points.  I was excited.  A moistness began to 
dampen my bare muff.
         �Turn.  Come back towards me.  We will draw on the board in a 
minute.  First practise walking.  Concentrate, dear.  You look unsteady in 
your heels.  Tch.  Tch.  Do you wear sneakers all day, is that it?  I know you 
American girls.  Dirty sneakers and those awful, ragged-edged, greasy 
wide jeans.  The ones that look like they�ll fall down at any minute.  Well, 
here we can see your nice, bare legs.  Show them off.  And your muff.  How 
pretty your furred pussy looks.  Show it.  Thrust your hips forward as you 
come to a stop, before you turn around to walk back toward the blackboard.  
Yes.  Shove your twat at me.  It is a model�s walk, on the runway.  There.  
Now turn.  Show me your bottom again.  Make it wiggle, girl.  Men might be 
watching.  Wiggle your ass so you can sell lots of clothes for your agency.  
Are your boobies bouncing?  Well, we aren�t selling bras today, are we?  
No, just nighties with holes where the bra should be.  There, you are doing 
better.  Now draw a cock for me on the board, so I know you�re at least 
aware of the dangers men present to a young girl like yourself in this 
world,� Miss Wood said.
         I found a piece of chalk in a tray along the bottom of the blackboard.  
It was new.  It was pink in color.  There was an eraser beside it but I 
didn�t need the eraser.  Not yet.  I picked up the chalk and began drawing.
         �You draw so sedately,� Miss Wood said.  She sat in a chair now, 
with Jane sitting beside her.  They were wooden chairs.  I hoped Rob, 
somehow, was watching.  �Wiggle your ass as you draw.  You must always 
be thinking like a model.  Who knows?  You may have to make a career of 
it.  Work your hips as you draw on the board, girl.  You�re drawing a cock, 
Raquella.  It should excite you.  Make it bigger.  Men who date a fine girl 
like yourself, who is a model, have big cocks.  Do you wish to date Pee Wee 
Herman?�
         I drew salaciously at the board, as she commanded me, as I hoped 
Rob had secretly commanded her.  I wiggled my ass back and forth as I 
drew.  I made a very big penis on the board with my chalk.  I put a big 
testicle sac underneath it.
         �Put hair on the testes,� Miss Wood called out to me.  �Do you wish 
to date little boys?�
         �No, Miss Wood,� I replied.  I put lots of hair on the balls, drawing it 
in with my chalk.
         �Now where is the crown?� Miss Wood asked.  �Yes, that�s it.  Don�t 
forget to label the pee hole.  Did you draw a pee hole?�
         I suffered under her directions.  She wished all the parts of the 
penis labelled.  �Where is the root?� she asked me.  �Keep wiggling your 
hips as you write in all the parts.  You should be excited, girl!  Put your 
hand between your legs.  Show me you�re excited by the big cock you�re 
drawing.�
         I put my hand to my muff.  It felt moist.  Well, it would be even more 
moist in a minute, I told myself.  Reluctantly I began rubbing it.  I felt the 
tight curls there, the labial lips.  I sought within them for my spot.
         Miss Wood was implacable.  She made me draw another cock, and 
then another, erasing each one as I went along.  She said each time that I 
had been wilfull, and not drawn it as perfectly as befitted the 
�perfection� of the male penis.  And she kept me rubbing myself, all the 
while, making me grow more excited by the minute.  And she reminded me 
to grind my hips as I worked, and to make a display of my nude bottom, 
gyrating it all about, as if I were on a runway, with other models, being 
observed by men.  Except, if I were on a runway, I�d at least have 
something more on than just this winsome, see-through nightie.  Unless, I 
reminded myself, it was a runway that was featuring a private lingerie 
showing.  Perhaps a showing for men only.
         �Oooooh!  I can�t draw anymore!� I declared after making the third 
penis.  My snatch felt wet.  It had made my fingers all wet.  I looked at the 
penis I�d drawn on the blackboard.  It was the most perfect penis I�d ever 
drawn in my life.
         �Very well,� Miss Wood replied.  �You have done your best.  But I 
sense a certain lack of appreciation in your drawing.  Technically, it is 
accurate.  I shouldn�t wish to harm the delicate self esteem of a pampered 
girl like yourself.  But there should be more of that intangible quality of 
admiration in your drawing,� Miss Wood said.  �My husband died when I 
was only 30.  I think you spoiled American girls just take the male penis 
for granted, Raquelle.  It is a work of art.  But you treat it diffidently.  
That sort of diffidence will wind up getting you pregnant, because you 
don�t have a proper fear and admiration of it.  A male penis is like Thor, 
like Jupiter, the God who Thunders.  If it strikes, you will be with child.  
Come here, girl.  You must learn proper respect for the male penis, or it 
will be your undoing.  And swing your hips as you walk.  No, you don�t have 
to erase the board.  Erase the board!�
         �I was just trying to be neat,� I said meekly.
         �She wishes to erase such a perfect picture of a male penis,� Miss 
Wood said scornfully to Jane.
         �Yes, it looks just like my husband�s, and she wishes to erase it,� 
Jane said.
         �See?  These spoilt girls.  No respect, and she is still unsteady in 
her heels.  Come, girl.  You require a sound thrashing to instill some 
respect in you.  Fortunately I worked part-time at a girls� reformatory 
school, after I retired.  It was in America, though, and they let me go.  
They said I was too severe.�
         �Tch,� Jane said.
         With steps leaden with hesitancy, yet grinding my hips profusely as 
I walked, I approached Miss Wood.  A thrashing?  I did not wish for that.  
Did I?  All Rob�s attention would be on me, I was sure, if I was punished.  
Not on his lovely wife, with her black cire dress, and her perfectly made 
up face, and her pinup�s body.  But on me.  I would capture and hold his 
attention for the entire length of my... beating.  Yes.  That was the word.  
Oh, but why did I have to be hit on my bottom to take full possession of his 
eyes?  Of his mind.  Of his lust.  Because, I supposed, when I was being... 
hit... (I still had trouble admitting such a thing to myself).  When I was 
being hit my bottom would gyrate even more salaciously than it did now, 
and my young tits would flaunt themselves even more bouncily.  And he 
would feel concern for my tears.  And my screams would pierce his ears, 
demanding he pay attention to me.  Only me.  Not his wife.
         I felt a finger poke between my lips.  It was mine.  It hung off the 
corner of my mouth as a finger on my other hand explored my snatch.  I 
was hungry.  I was lustful.  I should not be lustful, I told myself.  But I 
was.  I could still feel, vaguely, the imprint of Jane�s crop upon my bare 
behind.  Was master gazing at my ass even now?  Was he savoring my twin, 
wiggly white spheres, and what must happen to them?  Were his eyes 
peering at my bottomcrack?  
         �Come and sit on my knee, Raquella,� Miss Wood told me.  �Sit down.  
Right here.  I know your bottom is naked.  Put it here on my knee.  Thin as a 
bone, isn�t it?  Yes.  Put your bottom on my old, bony leg.  That�s it,� Miss 
Wood said, satisfied, as I settled my young backside onto her leg.  �Sit 
still, girl,� she admonished.  �I know you�re excited.  I can see that by your 
pretty nipples.  How they stick out from your breasts?  My, your bottom 
does spread upon my knee, doesn�t it?  Right up between your crack my old 
leg goes, hmmm?  Splitting the cheeks.  No, don�t shift your weight.  I like 
you just as you are, with your ass poised on my knee and my kneecap 
jammed up between the darling cheeks of your bottom.�
         I had sat down meekly on Miss Wood�s knee, and it was most 
unfortunate, for instead of sitting in a friendly way, sideways on her 
thigh, I�d shyly sat myself just at the very end of her leg, where her knee 
was.  The old goat�s bony knee was now jammed up between my split-apart 
ass, as if trying to impregnate my behind.  It was decidedly uncomfortable.  
My moist snatch made me even more figity.
         �How you wiggle so on the end of my knee, girl,� Miss Wood said 
disapprovingly.  �A proper English education would teach a young lady like 
yourself to sit still.  You are not a four-year-old, my dear.  How pretty and 
slim your back is.  How lightly fleshed your ribs.  My, I can see every one 
of them, you are so thin.  Let me see, I believe I can even count them.  One, 
two, am I tickling you?�
         Miss Wood�s finger poked me in my ribs.  Next, it was light as a 
feather, just barely touching me.  I couldn�t help giggling.  It made my 
bosoms jiggle.
         �How beautifully your breasts hang off your chest,� Miss Wood told 
me.  �Let me cup them.  You are so young.  They are so new.  You should 
keep them confined in a bra, so they grow properly.  Yes, they will grow 
even more, don�t worry.  How large you American girls can be in the bosom 
department, hmmm?  Yours are already like lovely ripe melons.  And you do 
not care to confine them, do you?  You want to flaunt them.  You want to 
run naked and let your bosoms bounce wildly all over the place.  You are 
liberated, hmmm?  Did you burn your bra?�
         I wanted no nod �no�.  I hadn�t burned my bra.  Perhaps my mother had 
burned hers, when she was young.  Old people sometimes get confused by 
all the decades, mixing one with another.  Then again, I didn�t always wear 
my bra.  I hadn�t tonight.  I�d let my nipples stick out, when they felt like 
it, and show themselves poking up from within my sweater.
         �She did not wear a bra this evening,� Jane told Miss Wood.
         �She did not?� Miss Wood asked.  �What was she wearing?�
         �Just a sweater,� Jane answered.
         �Oh, walking about outdoors with her boobs bouncing freely,� Miss 
wood said.  �And now she refuses to wear even panties when visiting me.  
This does call for an application of the cane, don�t you think?�
         �No,� I wanted to say, but the question was not addressed to me.  I 
was to sit still, with Miss Wood�s knee up my butt, and her clammy hands 
working their bony fingers into my tits.  Oh, what silly things one does for 
love!
         �At least the nightie she has chosen will not inhibit its use,� Jane 
said to Miss Wood.
         The old crone lifted up the hem of my nightie, which hung round my 
ribs, leaving my hips and legs bare.  My breasts jutted through the front of 
it, for its uppermost part was merely a breast halter, without any cups.  
My nipples stiffened even more as I felt Miss Wood play with the hem of 
my nightie.  I wished it had at least a back to it, but even there, I was 
naked, protected only by the back of the breast halter.  The rest of my 
nightie hung, skirt-like, off my ribs and my front, leaving my back nude.  
My bottom was completely without cover.
         I opened my legs.  I bent and looked down between my breasts at my 
furry muff.  I rubbed my cunt hairs.  I was spread-legged on the old crone�s 
knee, looking sluttish, I thought, with my excessive makeup, and my hair 
pinned up in pigtail�s like a little girl�s.  Did Rob like seeing me this way?  
With my breasts bare, my cunt all wet with my juices, my long legs open 
to whatever depredations might befall my snatch?
         �Yes,� Miss Wood said.  �Bottom training is what she needs.  The 
posterior is a wonderful part of the body, for it can be beaten severely, 
and be made to transmit painfully clear lessons to the mind, yet it heals 
quickly, so that after a few days it can be sat upon, with relative comfort, 
or thrashed again, if the pupil still requires more instruction.�  
         �I shouldn�t like to see my little one hurt too badly,� Jane said to 
Miss Wood.
         �Ah, you are uninformed, then,� Miss Wood told Jane.  �Hurt is what 
we wish.  Hurt provides the lessons that the mind would otherwise reject.  
It is harm we wish to avoid.  Unless, that is, you desire some mark, which 
she can observe in future to remind herself of her instruction, even after 
the pain of it is gone.  Do you wish such a mark?�
         �Not- not at present,� Jane answered.  �It is used, often, to claim a 
girl, is it not?  By a man, I mean.  He has her marked to claim her forever 
as his.�
         �Yes,� Miss Wood says.  �It serves as a bond between them.  
Marriage, you know.  It can be so easily undone these days.  But a mark, on 
the body, that is a permanent thing.  Usually it is agreed upon, in advance, 
by the couple in question.  He desires to have her marked.  Professionally, 
you know.  By someone like myself.  Sometimes he is present.  Sometimes 
not.  It depends on the man�s constitution.  Some men cannot bear to see 
their little beauty marked.�
         �Yes, we do not wish for such a mark this evening,� Jane said.  �She 
is really just a plaything.  A diversion.�
         �Of course,� Miss Wood said.  All the while she kept on stroking me, 
lifting my breasts and testing the tenseness of my nipples.  She inquired 
between my legs into the wetness of my slit.  She parted my legs more 
fully.  She made me continue to sit with my full weight upon her knee.  
�Yes.  It is better for your husband, being as handsome as he is, to stray 
within your view, for he would surely stray in any case, he is, as I say, so 
beautiful to look at.�
         �Mmmm.  I showed you his picture when last I visited,� Jane said.  
�With the other girl.�
         �Hmmm.  How is she?  She was 14, was she not?�
         �I don�t know,� Jane replied.  �She no longer works for us.�
         �A lovely girl,� Miss Wood said.  �You have good taste.  And this one.  
She is, perhaps, even prettier still.  You keep your husband well supplied 
with young flesh.�
         �Now and then, as a diversion, to keep him from playing the field on 
his own,� Jane said.  �And there is a certain beauty in the girls that I like 
for its own sake,� she confessed.
         �But she will of course be dismissed when her usefulness is...� Miss 
Wood began.
         �When she bores me,� Jane answered.  �Or I find someone prettier 
still.  I like the girls I meet, but I�m not trying to build a harem.�
         �Of course,� Miss Wood said.  �A man would want to be greedy, and 
keep all the girls he met forever, though the newest one, of course, would 
attract his attention far more than the ones he�s already been privy with.�
         �Yes.  I let them go, when I no longer find they interest me as much 
as when we first met,� Jane said.  �Let them play elsewhere.  It would be 
improper for me to enslave them.�
         �Except briefly, as love slaves,� Miss Wood agreed.
         �Yes.  And I do not want them getting too close to my husband,� Jane 
added.
         I shivered, out on the end of Miss Wood�s knee, with her kneecap 
jammed up between my buttocks.  They were talking of me as if I were 
some piece of furniture!  And there had been other girls?  Before me?  How 
humiliating!  And yet I of course knew I wasn�t Rob�s first.  After all, he 
was married.  I did not know what to think about the idea of being... used.  
How difficult it was for me to admit to myself anything, I thought as I sat 
with Miss Wood�s knee stuck in my ass.  I was being used, wasn�t I?  And I 
would be hit.  Across my bottom.  They would enjoy the act, and my 
suffering, and afterward I would be turned out, made to go away.  Did I 
want that?  No!  And yet that was surely what would happen.  Unless.  
Unless Rob wound up preferring me to his wife, and marrying me, and 
divorcing her.  Yes, I told myself.  That was surely what would happen.
         I stiffened.  My back straightened.  (Though, indeed, I was sitting 
rather straight already, what with a woman�s knee worked up into the 
cheeks of my tush.)  If Rob did prefer me, would he need to mark me?  That 
would bond us forever.  He was an honorable man, I felt, even though I�d 
known him only a little while.  If he marked me, I would be his forever.  He 
would not stray after that.  He would love no one but me.  Jane would be 
turned out, not me.  She would prove to have been the �diversion�, as she 
called it.  Not me.
         Miss Wood grabbed my arms.  She wrenched them behind me.  I 
bleated out a cry of alarm, like a sheep ready for slaughter.  Jane laughed.  
Holding my wrists behind me, Miss Wood placed cuffs over my wrists and 
locked them.  I wanted to run, to jerk my hands away, but she held them 
tight and I sat, half-compliantly, half not, wiggling and squirming on her 
knee, yet obeying, for Rob was watching.
         �There,� Miss Wood said.  �My, you are trembling, girl.  Do you think 
I�m going to hurt you now, hmmm?  Do you think I�m going to mark your 
lovely body?  Shhhh.  Don�t answer,� she said, placing a finger over my 
lips.  �Did Jane tell you this is about willpower, hmmm?  Mine *and* 
yours?  Oh, I�m sure you�ll require the cane on your bottom before you 
leave.  Yes.  Nobody leaves here with a nice, white bottom like you have.  
But not yet, my dear.  No, not yet.  I want you to go to the blackboard again.  
I want you to pick up the chalk again.  Yes, the chalk.  What?  You can�t?  
Of course you can!  You have lips, and a mouth, do you not?  Pick it up with 
your mouth.�  She laughed.  �You will draw on the black board with the 
chalk in your mouth.  The pink chalk between your pink lips.  You will draw 
cocks.  Lots of cocks.  I want the whole blackboard filled up with big, 
stiff, hairy-balled cocks.  Then we will see about your bottom.  Get up!� 
Miss Wood said.  She slapped my flank with her bare hands.  It stung upon 
my thigh.  I leapt up.  My bosoms bounced in my leaping.  The hem of my 
nightie rose, fell.  My bottom wriggled, glad to be free of her intrusive 
knee.  I was free again, free of her hands, and yet not free, for my own 
were bound behind me.
         I went to the board.  I bent over, showing the full amplitude of my 
bottom, my cheeks, bending and offering them.  I licked in the chalk trough 
with my tongue.  At last I was able to grip a loose piece of chalk with my 
teeth.  I stood erect.  I held it tightly in my mouth, lest I drop it, and be 
punished.  I tossed back my blonde hair from my face.  I drew cocks, as 
she�d requested.  I made them long and large and with big, hairy balls 
hanging underneath them.
         �Very good,� Miss Wood complimented me, when I�d filled the last 
corner of the board up with the pink outlines of a big man�s penis.  Rob�s 
penis.  Did he see himself up there, as I did?  �Very good.  Put down the 
chalk.  Carefully.  Back into the trough.  Other girls will need it.  That�s it.  
One girl simply dropped hers,� Miss Wood said in an aside to Jane.
         I turned.  I gazed at my captors.  Two women, smartly dressed.  Me 
wearing nothing, my bush moist, my nipples sprouted, only a filmy, 
unconcealing nightie hanging down under my tits.
         �It is a maternity nightie she is wearing,� Miss Wood said to Jane.  
�You see?  She is free to suckle with her bare breasts.  And her nightie, 
while covering her tummy down to her navel, does not inhibit it at all.  So 
she can be swollen with child, yet discreet.  Of course it is rather 
indiscreet, I think, for a young girl of 13, who�s not pregnant, to be 
wearing a maternity nightie.�
         �She chose it herself,� Jane answered.
         �Perhaps she has plans for your husband�s seed you don�t know 
about,� Miss Wood said.
         �Perhaps,� Jane answered.  �But if she bore a child, with his sperm, 
I�d consider it mine.�
         �She would be a surrogate mother, then?�
         �I should hope so,� Jane said.  �Otherwise she would be--�
         �His wife?� Miss Wood asked.
         �No.  Never.  I am his wife,� Jane said.
         �Ah, but rings can be put on, and taken off again,� Miss Wood said.  
�You have neither mark upon you, Jane, nor a child of his.  Who are you to 
claim a superior right to her, if she conceives?�
         �I am her mother,� Jane snapped.  She frowned at the old woman.
         �Consider it a sign of appreciation of your beauty that I spoke of it,� 
Miss Wood said.
         �That you wish to mark me?� Jane asked.
         �One does not wish at my age,� Miss Wood said.  �But, were I 
younger, and practising the trade I do now, well...�
         �Perhaps someday,� Jane said.
         �Tonight we must concern ourselves only with her, of course,� Miss 
Wood agreed.  �Come to me again, Raquella.  Wriggle your hips as you do.  
They will surely wriggle quite salaciously after I�ve caned you, dear.  You 
shan�t be able to still them then!�  She laughed.  �Come and sit on my lap 
again, dear.  Perhaps you�ll sit in a more friendly fashion this time, eh, 
knowing how old and bony my knees are.�
         I did.  I sat on her thigh, on the thickest part of it I could find.  It 
was much softer than her knee, though still on the slim side, as if there�d 
been more of her once, but it had wasted away as she�d aged.  My boobs 
hung nakedly under her eyes.  She admired them, frankly, as a man might.
         �Yes.  You have fine tits,� Miss Wood said.  She pinched my nipples.
         �OW!� I cried.
         �Fine tits for a girl your age, especially,� Miss Wood said.  �And so 
perky.  How you respond when I touch them.�
         �OW!  Please don�t do that,� I said.  My voice was breathless.  I felt 
excited.  Yet her fingers were rude.  I didn�t like them pinching my bosoms.
         �Now, Raquella,� Miss Wood said, exuding satifaction at seeing me 
wince.  �I have been so concerned for you that I�ve given you some training 
right off.  But really, this is most inappropriate.  Do you remember when 
you first went to nursery school?  Was there not a physical examination, 
by a doctor, of your body before you were allowed to attend?  It is the 
same here.  I am no different from the state in that respect.  We shall have 
to examine you, my dear.  When you were a little girl, of course, you 
simply lifted your skirt, and dropped your panties, and stood in front of 
the doctor, perhaps holding your teddy bear all the while.  But not here.  
You are bigger now.  Come!  We must give you a young woman�s exam.�
         Miss Wood rose.  I, being on her lap, was forced to rise with her.  
Jane stood.  She eyed me expectantly.  I tried to gaze at her, but wound up 
looking at my toes instead.  Was Rob watching?  Did he wish to see me... 
examined?  
         �We have a doctor�s office right across the hall, dear,� Miss Wood 
said.  She unlocked my handcuffs.  She took the cuffs away, and I eagerly 
rubbed my wrists.  They had been tight.  Jane smiled at me.  But it was a 
sadist�s smile, glad to see me suffering, if only a little.  I tried to ignore 
her smile.
         �Please take my hand,� Miss Wood told me.  �I don�t want you running 
ahead, or lagging behind.  That�s a good girl.�  Miss Wood put a finger under 
my chin and lifted it.  �Try not to be afraid, dear.  You�re trembling so.  A 
visit to the doctor is worrisome, but I�ll try to see that you aren�t probed 
too deeply.  I try to make sure that the discomfort in my exam isn�t 
excessive.�
         Miss Wood pulled me forward.  Her words did nothing to assauge my 
fears.  I felt as one on a river, a raging river, bobbing along, unable to 
control my fate.  And yet I could, at any moment, refuse, couldn�t I?  But 
then what would Rob think of me?  He would think me just a child, 
woulnd�t he?  Not a young woman fit for his attention, but only a scared 
little girl.  I didn�t want to be thought of as a scared little girl.  Katie, I 
was sure, would never willingly submit to a physical exam.  It would 
frighten her, going to the doctor.  So I let my chin be lifted, and tried to 
walk confidently, while still swaying my hips, which swayed in any event, 
thanks to Miss Wood requiring me to, or not, because in addition I was 
agitated and feeling sexy.  It was a sexiness laden with fright, however.  
Perhaps I wished it that way?  Perhaps I didn�t feel enough self esteem to 
just be outrightly sexy?  My mom would never want me to be outrightly 
sexy.  Nor my teachers.  Nor my pastor.  Especially at 13.  So, yes, I needed 
to be pushed a little, and made to frig my slit.  Pulling me along, Miss 
Wood made me put my free hand over my pussy.  She told me to feel shy at 
being exposed to the doctor, yet excited.  And I did!  I diddled my slit as 
we walked, my hips swinging, Jane following.  I let my bare bottom flaunt 
itself before her eyes.  I played with myself freely.  I felt my nipples, 
stiffly uprisen on my bosoms, sticking out in front of me as I frigged my 
slit.  We were so naughty.  I was so bad.  I would be well deserving of that 
cane standing in the corner, before the night was through.
         I wondered about Katie.  What games were they playing?  She and 
Nick?  He was a bad boy, Nick.  He had lured me to that cave full of Navy 
Seals.  They had used me, and I had never seen them again.  Would the same 
happen to me this time?  Would Rob be a distant memory soon, as Jim 
already was becoming?  Oh, my!  I didn�t want to be a slut!  Yet I was 
always, it seemed, running afoul of bad people.  Nick first, now Jane and 
her husband, and Miss Wood.  It was my body, I told myself.  It was not me.  
It was my body.  It had blossomed and attracted all the world�s flies to it.  
Flies and bees.  And worms.  Big, man-sized penis worms, that just had to 
have me, no matter what.
         �This is the exam room,� Miss Wood told me.  We were in the hall and 
she opened a door and let us into another room.  Behind us lay the school 
room, across the hall, the big penises I�d drawn still on the black board.  
Before us lay a wicked looking room, with an ob/gyn table, complete with 
stirrups, and surgical tools on a metal tray beside it.  There was a screen, 
in a corner, behind which one could undress.  I, of course, Miss Slut, was 
already nude, or almost nude.  Now I would not only be naked but spread 
and forced to offer myself.  My whole self.  Upon the table, I guessed.  I 
shut my eyes tight and tried not to walk forward when Miss Wood pulled 
on my hand.
         The exam room was scary enough, but what made it worse was 
something along one side of the room.  There, lined with brick, with a fire 
set standing beside it, was a fireplace.  A small fire crackled within it, 
turning logs slowly to ash.  Hearing it, one knew instantly one wasn�t 
really in a doctor�s office.  It was only a play office, designed for wicked 
ends.  How it would have been so much easier if the exam room was 
perfect in its appearance.  Then I might have told myself I really was in a 
doctor�s office, being examined by a doctor.  But not with that fireplace.  
That, crackling away, throwing light and heat out into the room, made it 
abundantly clear that this was not an real doctor�s office, but only a 
house, with doctor�s gear placed in it.  I would be probed by people who 
were not doctors, who were only playing.  They would, perhaps, open me 
wider than any doctor, require more of me, and it would be all for naught.  
Nothing would be learned, except perhaps by me, that I should�t play such 
games.
         �Get on the table,� Miss Wood said to me.  There was a small 
portable set of steps next to the ob/gyn table.  She guided me toward 
them.  �Wait,� she said suddenly.  �You have your nightie on.  Your 
maternity nightie.  Please go behind the screen and remove it.  Your heels 
also.  I will need you barefoot, so that I can place your feet properly in the 
table�s stirrups.  Go, my child.  We�ll be waiting for you when you come 
out.  Oh, yes.  One other thing.  While you are behind the screen, I would 
like for you to brush out your hair, and touch up your makeup.  Remember, 
this is a special doctor�s office.  You must look your very best, even if you 
are naked.�
         Shiveringly I let go of her hand.  How awful this was!  Yet how stiff 
and perfect my nipples were.  How wet my slit.  I left her with mincing 
steps, not wishing to obey, yet able to do little else.  Jane locked the door 
to the room as I walked behind the screen.  I heard the key in the lock.  I 
wondered where she�d gotten it, and why we needed to be locked in.  Could 
Rob see me from outside the room?  Was there, perhaps, some sort of 
camera?  A hidden mirror?  I guessed there must be.  Yet, did I wish him to 
see me as open as the ob/gyn table would make me?  I did, and yet, at the 
same time, I did not.  I was conflicted.  I only wanted him.  Yet he wanted 
more.  He wanted me, but also to see me tested.  Perhaps because I was so 
young?  Or because it served his wicked male needs?  I didn�t know.  With 
butterflies in my tummy, I stepped behind the screen.  There was a hook 
there, for my nightie.  A low stool.  A mirror.  A makeup kit.  A brush for 
my hair.
         �Come out, Raquella.  This is a doctor�s office, not a beauty parlor,� 
Miss Wood called some minutes later.  I appeared from behind the screen.  
My hair was brushed to a bright gloss.  My pigtails were back in place, 
holding my freshly brushed hair.  My ribbons in my hair, holding up my 
pigtails, now matched a nightie I no longer wore, hanging by itself behind 
the screen, on a hook.  My lipstick made my lips red, seductive.  My eyes, 
large and bright and frightened, bore new layers of mascara.  My cheeks 
were powdered.  I looked like a girl going dancing, but instead I was to be 
examined!
         I paused with fright as I stepped from behind the screen.  Miss Wood 
and Jane were decked out in surgical gear!  They both wore long, flowing 
hospital surgeons� gowns.  Their hair was pinned up, though not 
completely, within surgical caps.  They wore rubber gloves.  Their faces 
had surgical masks tied over them.  I was nude, barefoot.
         �Come here, Raquella,� Miss Wood told me in a stern voice.  �Medical 
time is expensive.  We doctors are busy people.  Come and get up on the 
table, so we can begin your exam.�
         �Yes, Miss Wood,� I answered.  I shivered as I walked.  I bit my lower 
lip.  I felt my teeth rubbing against the lipstick I�d applied to it.
         �Up on the table!� Miss Wood commanded.  �Get your bottom up there.  
Yes.  Mount the steps.  Lie flat on your back.  Take your hand off your pussy.  
We must examine your sex, right up you all the way to your womb, to 
insure you�re free of disease, and without child.  And you must be given a 
pap smear, of course.  It will only hurt a little.�
         Wincing, blushing, my hips waggling with fright, I mounted up the 
table�s steps.  I lay down upon the paper sheeted surface of the table.  The 
paper had small elephants and giraffes printed on its surface, as a table 
might have in a children�s hospital.  Miss Wood and Jane came up beside 
me.  They stood over me.  They peered down at me, anonymous in their 
surgeon�s masks.  I let them take my wrists.  I felt myself shaking, I was 
so worried.  Anything, I felt, could happen to me on this table.  Anything 
from an abortion, which I didn�t need, to a pregnancy, which I half-wanted, 
if it was by Rob, and didn�t want, if it was by anyone else.  I was to be 
spread, opened.  I felt them take my ankles and place them in the 
footrests.  They buckled them there, then returned to my hands.  I lay with 
them over my head, where they�d laid them.  I gazed up.  Twin leads hung 
over me, positioned over my breasts.  What were those for?  I felt rubber 
tubing wrap around my wrists.
         �The exam may be painful,� Dr. Wood said.  �We will bind your hands 
so that you do not interfere.�
         �No,� I breathed.  But my voice was small, frightened.  They ignored 
it.
         �It is normal to feel afraid, as a patient,� Jane said to me in a 
consoling voice.
         My wrists were bound to a metal bar at the top of the table.  The 
women used rubber hospital hoses.  They were not made for such a 
purpose, but it didn�t matter.  They were effective in restraining me.  
That�s all that mattered.
         Carefully Miss Wood buckled a strap across my middle.  She made it 
tight, so that I couldn�t buck up my bottom as they examined me.  I gazed 
down at myself, at my bosoms, at my risen nipples.  I was theirs to do 
with as they pleased now.
         �One more thing,� Miss Wood said.  She placed a cloth over my eyes.  
Someone lifted the back of my head up.  Hands tied the cloth so that it 
formed a blindfold.  I could not see.  I felt more frightened than ever.  
�Now open your mouth,� Miss Wood said.  �Say ah.�  I felt a wooden 
popsicle stick on my tongue.  I showed her my tonsils.  Then, to my gasping 
surprise, I felt a bit jammed in my mouth.  It was made of rubber.  �Bite 
down,� Miss Wood said.  �This will help with the pain.  I wouldn�t want you 
griding your pretty teeth together.  You might break them.�
         �No, please!� I tried to cry.  It was no use.  I was firmly bitted.  It 
was buckled behind my head, with a leather strap.  It held my teeth apart 
and pressed down on my tongue.  I regretted opening my mouth to the 
popsicle stick.  I regretted everything, but it was much too late now.  I 
was to be a patient, nothing else, for the next few minutes. Spread and 
opened and made unresistant.
         �Who needs anesthesia when there�s straps and restraints and bits?� 
Jane laughed.
         �I couldn�t agree more,� Miss Wood said.  �No wonder hospital costs 
keep rising.  All that money they spend every year on anesthesiologists, 
when a pair of straps will do just as well.�
         �Love slaves, fortunately, have no choice in the matter,� Jane said.
         �Well, let�s see what she�s been up to, now,� Miss Wood said.  �You 
never know about these American girls.  They are so beautiful, and sleep 
with so many men.�
         �Indeed,� Jane said.  �I think we should check every part of her.�
         �See how well the stirrups lift her legs.  They swivel her hips up 
nicely.  We can examine both her cunt and her bottom hole,� Miss Wood 
said.
         �She�ll need both examined, too, the way she gives herself so freely 
to men,� Jane said.
         �But we must begin with the titties,� Miss Wood said.  �See?  I have 
leads hanging here, over our heads.  Please uncoil one and attach it to her 
nipple.�
         �My, these are new,� Jane said.  �What is their purpose?�
         �To test the teats for child-rearing,� Miss Wood said.  �They are 
connected to an air pump.  It will suck, in alternate seconds, all the air 
from these thin tubes attached to the tips of her breasts.  Sucking on 
them, as a baby might, to test her fitness to nurse.�
         �Inventive,� Jane said.
         I was attached.  By my bosoms.  I gasped behind my gag but they paid 
me no heed at all now.  I was just a stretched-out body, to be played upon.  
They licked my nipples, bit them irreverently, making me sob behind my 
gag, and hooked the tubular leads up to me.  The leads ended in small cups 
which, wetted by the womens� saliva, and being vaccum tubes, allowed my 
breast tips to extrude up into the glass confines of each cup.  The machine 
began to suck upon my bosoms.  Just the nipples, of course, because that 
was all that could fit up inside each cup, though the women tried to stuff 
in as much of me as they could, to make the fit tight.  I shouted behind my 
gag.  I was ignored.  With the machine grinding away, the leads pumped my 
titties.  My boobs wobbled nakedly on my chest.  My nipples felt as if they 
were being attacked by twin mouths.  Hungry Terminator babies suckled at 
my teats, unrelenting.  They desired nourishment.  I was pumped like some 
Queen Bee, feeding a hive, used only for my reproductive value.
         �I have company this evening,� Miss Wood said to Jane.
         �Oh, really?� Jane asked.
         �Yes,� Miss Wood said.  �And I think our little Miss here should have 
her fleecy little mount attended to.�
         �But it is so pretty already,� Jane said.  �Do you not think it is the 
prettiest little mount you�ve seen in some time?�
         �Indeed.  But beautiful women go more often to the beauty parlor 
than ordinary women do, I�ve found,� Jane said.  �They are always finding 
an excuse to primp and preen.�
         �So you think I should play beautician to her pussy?� Jane asked.
         �Yes, please,� Miss Wood said.  �We both will.  My company could 
walk in on us and, well, Raquella�s face isn�t the first thing they�ll see.�
         �No, hardly,� Jane answered.  She stroked a sharp-nailed finger down 
the length of my slit.  I quaked in my bonds.  Company?  Did Miss Wood 
mean Rob?  I hoped she did.  But she�d said �they�, not �him�.
         �Let�s give her a quick shampoo,� Miss Wood said to Jane.  �Just of 
her cunt hair, of course.  The hair on her head hardly matters, with her 
lying flat on her back and her head way at the other end of the table.  Why, 
bitted and blindfolded, I doubt my company will pay any attention to little 
Raquella�s face.  They would not even recognize her on the street, 
tomorrow, if they saw her, though if she dresses like she is now, and 
opens herself, perhaps they�d recognize her by her cunt.�
         �Yes, such a small, pretty cunt,� Jane agreed.  �And her bush just 
growing in.�
         �We must shampoo it, though, so she�ll look her very best,� Miss 
Wood said.
         �Let me see, then.  You have water?� Jane asked.
         �I�ve converted the wet bar in this room to a surgical sink,� Miss 
Wood said.  �You�ll find a small bucket over there, and a scrub brush, and a 
fresh bottle of shampoo.�
         �Very well,� Jane said.
         I bucked against my bonds.  I could barely lift my hips, due to the 
tight strap across my belly.  Yet I tried.  Oh, how horrid it was, to be 
spread and open like this, and now to be shampooed!  And presented to 
company?!
         As the suction cups continued to yank on my nipples, drawing them 
up to points that were painfully stiff, Jane fetched a bucket.  I heard it 
clank against something hard, a wooden stool, perhaps, as it was 
positioned under my crotch.  Water splashed onto my pussy.  Fingers 
rubbed my dell.  Then I heard a squirting sound and rich, soapy liquid 
spread itself in a line across my sex.  Fingers returned to my snatch again, 
and began rubbing me.
         �Oh, look how she tries to buck her hips,� Jane said.
         �Yes, she doesn�t lie still, as she should,� Miss Wood said.  �Another 
reason to bring the cane to her bottom when we�re through.�
         �She�ll go home with quite a red one, considering all her 
disobedience,� Jane remarked.  They continued to massage me, rubbing 
soap all over my pussy.
         �Now for a rinse,� Miss Wood said.  Water splashed my dell.  �Jane, 
fetch the hair dryer.  We�ll blow dry her pussy hair.  And get a brush, so we 
can give her short pussy hairs a nice brush after we�ve dried them.�
         �Of course,� Jane said.  �Oh!  Here�s your company, she added, hearing 
a knock on the exam room�s door.  I heard footsteps.  They were those of a 
woman�s high heels.  The door was unlocked and I heard it creak, briefly, 
as it swung open. 
         �Why, boys.  How nice of you to show yourselves,� Miss Wood said.  
Her voice came from across the room.  �Did you each have a nice shower?� 
she asked.
         �Yeah,� several male voices grunted.  Their voices seemed strained.  
I gasped.  They were boys!  I could tell by how youthful they sounded.
         �And you put on the suits I laid out for you.  How wonderful,� Miss 
Wood said.  �Jane, these are several select boys from the high school 
swim team.  I made them nice little suits.  Do they fit okay, boys?�
         �They�re, uh, smaller than the ones we wear for the team,� a boy 
said in a throaty voice.
         �Smaller than your ball hugger swimsuits, your Speedoes?� Miss 
Wood asked.  �Why, yes, I see they must be.  Look, Jane.  This boy�s 
erection has popped out of the top of his suit.  Oh, there�s another!�
         �Sorry,� a male voice replied.  �I couldn�t--�
         �No, it�s alright,� Miss Wood said.  I imagined her rubber-gloved 
hands touching his cock.  �You�re so big and hard.  Perhaps I did make your 
suits a little small.  I didn�t realize you boys would be so big at 15 and 16.  
Have you grown since I last saw you?�
         �I dunno,� a male voice said.
         �Oh, here comes the other boy�s penis.  Right out the side of his 
swimsuit.  I guess I did make them too small,� Miss Wood said.  �Did you 
boys have a good practise this evening?�
         �It was kinda cold,� a boy said.
         �Oh, yes!  It�s so windy and rainy,� Miss wood agreed.  �The school 
really should build you boys an indoor pool to practise in.  Here, stand over 
here next to the fire, boys.  Warm yourselves a moment while Jane and I 
finish up with our other guest.  She�s having a quick medical exam.  To 
make sure she�s fit for child rearing.�
         �Nurse Wood,� Jane said.
         �Yes, Nurse Jane?� Miss Wood asked.
         �Have the boys step behind the screen and remove their swimsuits.  
We can save on medical costs by examining them as well as Raquella 
here,� Jane said.
         �Why, what a thought!� Jane said.  �A package deal.  Three boys and 
one girl, all examined in one fell swoop.  Boys, would you care to have your 
penises examined?  We could even test your ability to impregnate, given 
that we�ve got a nice pussy right here, already open wide and ready to 
receive you.�
         �Sure,� a male voice replied.  It was seconded by two others.
         �Then just step behind the screen,� Miss Wood said.  �Remove your 
suits.  You can hang them over the top of the screen.  That will be fine.  
Would you care for a drink?  We are fortunate in that, despite medical 
cutbacks, we do have a wet bar here.�
         �Sure.�
         �Okay.�
         �Why not?� the males grunted in reply.
         As the males disrobed, a hair dryer was applied to my bush.  It 
gushed hot air across my gash, making me, in the process, wet along my 
slit even as it managed to dry my pubic hair.  Whoever was drying my cunt 
hairs seemed not to mind that I was moistening in my dell even as she did 
her best to make me warm and dry.  When my pubic bush had been dried, a 
hair brush was dragged across it.  The feel of it made me even juicier 
along my slit.
         �There.  How pretty she looks,� I heard Jane say.
         �Yes.  Quite presentable,� Miss Wood agreed.  �Boys?  Are you all 
ready now?  My, such big cocks!  I really do think you�ve grown since I�ve 
last seen you.  Come over here, boys.  I want to examine each of your 
penises, to make sure you haven�t been up to anything naughty that�s given 
you a disease.  And, since our little Miss here just visited the 
beautician�s, I think it�s only fair you boys have a quick visit too.  A quick 
shampoo for you!�
         �But we just took a shower!� one boy replied.
         �Yes, but this will only be a shampoo of your cock hair,� Miss Wood 
said.  �Sometimes boys don�t scrub all the places they should.  But even if 
you have, boys, I expect you to be very, very clean for what we�re about to 
do.  This will be a medical procedure, and you know how those are.�
         �What-- what do you plan to do to us?� I heard a boy croak.  I 
assumed Miss Wood had just taken hold of his cock with her rubber gloved 
hands.
         �I�m going to save on equipment costs by using your dicks to explore 
the cunt of our patient here, who�s lying on the table,� Miss Wood said.  �If 
that�s alright with you, boys?�
         �Yeah.�
         �Sure.�
         �Why not?� the males, not exactly future Shakespeares, answered.
         �May I give her a quick check with the speculum, to see, 
preliminarily, how she�s fitted out for such an exam?� Jane asked Miss 
Wood.
         �Please do, Nurse Jane,� Miss Wood replied.  �Open her up and give 
her a women�s exam.  These boys won�t be peering inside her, after all.  
They�ll be using their cocks.  And the eye of the male cock cannot see.  It�s 
purpose is to ejaculate.  Isn�t that right, boys?  Ooops!  Not too soon, 
please, son.�
         �Sorry.  I didn�t mean to get it all over your hands,� a boy said.
         �It�s alright.  You have such a young, strong cock,� Miss Wood said.  
�I doubt you�ll even flag in your strength, despite your accidental 
discharge.  Am I right?�
         �I--� the male answered.
         �See, you�re not lessening in your stiffness at all,� Miss Wood said.  
�Look how hard he remains, Jane, despite cumming all over my hands!�
         �Oh, boys that age have so much jism,� Jane agreed.  Meantime, she 
began spreading me with a metal instrument.  Despite being nude already, 
and with my legs spread, I blushed fiercely as I felt the speculum open my 
cuntlips in front of the boys.
         �Now don�t--  Oh!  My, Steven, you�ve shot your load all over my 
hands, just like your friend did,� Miss Wood said.
         �Well you didn�t wash off his jism and it was so oily and hot--� the 
boy answered.
         �Oh, you�ve never felt another male�s sperm spread over your own 
cock?� Jane asked.  �You boys obviously haven�t been to too many orgies, 
then, have you?  Everyone winds up with everyone else�s cum and juice all 
over their sexual parts at such a feast.  Get used to it, boys.  With cocks 
like these, you�ll be getting lots of invitations, I�m sure.�
         With the speculum exposing me for all I was worth, I listened to 
Miss Wood�s chatter as she examined each of the boys.  Then she had each 
one put his erect cock over a bucket and she gave it a quick was.  I 
listened as shampoo was squirted along the length of each erect member.  
Then came a cry from each boy as his manhood was vigorously massaged.  
Two of the boys apparently shot themselves onto Miss Wood�s belly.  Their 
spirits did not flag, however, nor their hard-ons.  Miss Wood exclaimed 
over the beauty of their cocks as she gently dried each one with the hair 
dryer, trying not to so excite the boys that they spurted a third time.
         �Alright, boys,� Miss Wood said at last.  �You�re all still quite erect 
for the task at hand, I see.  How wonderful.  This will really save my little 
hospital a lot of money.  I�d kiss each of you on the tips of your lovely fine 
instruments but I�m afraid you�ll cum again.  Here, a quick kiss on each of 
your cheeks instead.  Mmmm, you need a shave, Steven.  Have you started 
shaving yet?�
         �Once in a while,� Steven answered.
         I listened as Miss Wood kissed each of the boys.  Then I heard one of 
them approach.  His bare feet slapped on the floor.  I sensed his approach, 
between my legs.  His hands grasped my thighs.  He pushed my legs more 
widely apart.
         �Oh!� I gasped behind my gag.  I felt his bullet-headed hard-on bump 
against my slit.
         �She�s going to be a tight fit,� Miss Wood warned.  �Jane, squirt 
some baby oil on to his cock.  Has she had her pill?�
         �I don�t know,� Jane said.  �But she has dallied with my husband 
already this evening.�
         �Then she is undone already, or not,� Miss Wood answered.  �A little 
extra won�t hurt.  Ram yourself into her, young man.  Don�t spare her.  
She�ll be tight all the way up.�
         �Hooooo!� I shouted.  My gag silenced my scream.  I felt the unseen, 
anonymous boy�s member shove itself into my twat.  I shuddered.  I tried 
tightening myself, to keep him out.  It was to no avail.  He seemed to enjoy 
my resistance, and pushed all the harder.
         �Right up,� Miss Wood told the boy.  �Get your dick into her.  Split 
her open with it and let her feel the full length of it.  Put your hands on 
his bare bottom, Jane, and give him a good shove.  She�s quite narrow and 
difficult for him.�
         �She is only 13,� Jane said.  �Here, let me get hold of your behind, 
young man.  My, how small and compact it is.�  I heard my paramour give a 
shout, even as I screeched, trying to hold him back, and finding that he 
rammed up me all the more eagerly and successfully.  �Yes, I�m going to 
put my finger against your anal hole,� Jane told the boy.  �Does that feel 
awkward, hmmm?  My, we�re saving on medical costs this evening, Nurse 
Wood!  I can examine his butthole even as he examines her cunt!�
         �The president will be pleased at all our cost savings,� Miss Wood 
agreed.
         �There�s no need for National Health Care, not if you save on 
expenses, like we do!� Jane said.
         �No indeed,� Miss Wood agreed.  �Don�t rub yourselves, boys.  You are 
fine young men, but I don�t want to have too much sperm on my floor.  
We�ll have to pay all the money we�ve saved to the janitorial staff!�
         �Yes, Miss Wood,� one of the boys croaked.
         �Oh, you�re spending anyway,� Miss Wood sighed.  �When�s the last 
time you boys had sex?�
         �Never,� one of the boys said.
         �Sixteen?  And never been laid?� Miss Wood asked.  �No wonder 
you�re so full of sperm!  My God, the milkman will think he can skip my 
house, tomorrow.  I�ll have white stuff flowing down the front steps.�
         �I�m sorry,� a boy said.
         �There�s no need to be sorry, provided you�re hard,� Miss Wood 
assured the boy.
         �I- I�m starting to lose it,� the boy said.
         �Here, let me see if my lips can get you erect again,� Miss Wood 
said.  �As young as you are, I�m sure you�ve got one more spurt you can 
give us.  Hmmm?�
         �Sure!� the boy said.
         �Tommy, don�t play with your penis while I�m sucking your friend,� I 
heard Miss Wood say.
         �I want to shoot mine, so I can get sucked too,� the boy answered.
         �Well, alright, but-- Tommy!  Don�t stick your thing in my hair!� Miss 
Wood, apparently kneeling now on the floor, scolded.
         �I�m sorry, ma�am, I--� the boy began.
         �Tommy!  You�re shooting your sperm all over my hair!� Miss Wood 
exclaimed.
         �I--  God this feels good, Miss Wood, rubbing your beautiful hair all 
over my dick!� the boy named Tommy cried.
         I was filled to my womb by the boy who had been put to the task of 
entering me.  He did not spare me any of his erection.  Even if he�d been 
minded to, seeing me writhe and buck under him, Jane�s finger in his 
butthole pressed him forward.  With jerks of passion, mixed with alarm, 
he shoved his hard cock in me, all the way up to his balls.
         �Now draw back, then up again,� Jane told the boy, as he stood 
stretching and filling me with the whole length of himself.  �We must 
make a game of it, you see.  Up you go, deep into her.  Then pull your small 
bottom back, drawing out your prick.  Here, I�ll guide you a little,� Jane 
said.  I imagined her hands clutching now at his ass, her finger removed 
from his bottom, if only for a moment.  His cock slid out of me, all covered 
with my juices.  Then, just as the big, bulbous head of himself was about 
to pop free of my cunt, Jane shoved him forward again.  I screamed as I 
felt him ram up in me once more.
         �Hey, this is fun!� the boy cried.
         �Yes, in and out,� Jane said.  �Work your cock in her.  Did you think 
you were to just stick yourself in, and go to the bathroom in her?� Jane 
laughed.  �I want you to make her suffer.  Make our little Miss take your 
cock repeatedly.�
         �What�s her name?� the boy asked, holding me by my bare hips as he 
shoved his dick hard into me.
         �Her name doesn�t matter,� Jane answered.  �She�s a young slut.  She 
wished to be fucked, and gang-banged, but she insisted I cover her eyes, so 
you couldn�t know her name.  Do you mind?  Will you refuse her your seed, 
because she won�t give her name?�
         �Nope,� the boy said, stretching me hard apart with the thickness of 
his big cock.  �She�s just a cunt to me,� the boy said.  �Anyway, she�s a 
blonde.  I prefer redheads.�
         �Of course,� Jane said.  She must have pulled again on his ass, 
because he began to withdraw himself.  �Who needs dating?  And romance?  
And kisses and flowers?  All a big, strapping dude like you needs is 
someplace to put his cock in the evening?  Am I right?�
         �That�s right,� the boy heaved, pulling his cock back to its head and 
then splitting me anew as he rammed himself up again.  �I figure, it takes 
away-- it takes away from sports, asking girls out and stuff.  Like you 
said, I do need to shoot, but I like doing sports and it doesn�t leave me 
much time for girls,� he said.  He spoke the word �girls� with a 
considerable amount of contempt.  �And working on my car.  I like that 
too,� the boy said.
         �Of course,� Jane replied.
         �Yeeoch!  Don�t stick your finger so far in my butt!� the boy told 
Jane.
         �Oh, you�re so tight back here,� Jane said.  �But I�m just a girl.  Don�t 
worry, my finger is little.�
         �I really don�t need a butthole exam,� the boy said.  �The coach 
doesn�t require it.�
         �How about an examination of your balls?� Jane asked.
         �Oooh!  No, not that either,� the boy groaned.  �Don�t squeeze them so 
hard.�
         �Sorry,� Jane said.  �As a girl I�m not aware of all the parts of the 
male anatomy.  How about yourself.  Do you know all the different parts of 
the female anatomy?� Jane asked.  She spoke politely, as if they were 
simply chatting at a party.
         �Nope,� the boy admitted, probing me deeply with his dick even as he 
continued his conversation with Jane.  �But I do know girls have cunts.  
That I know.�
         �I guess so, since you�re in one right now,� Jane laughed.
         �And tits too,� the boy said.  �What�s she got attached to hers?�
         �Those are suction cups, to test the fitness of her nipples,� Jane 
said.  �Would you like to suck them after you�re through?�
         �Yeah,� the boy said.
         �They might hurt a little from the cups, so suck gently, alright?� 
Jane asked.
         �Just let me suck them,� the boy said.  I felt his jism spurt suddenly 
into my womb.  He was deep, and I felt him fill me up right to my core.
         �Ah!� I cried, behind my bit.
         �Oh, God!  I�m losing it!� the boy groaned.
         �No, you�re not losing it,� Jane said.  �Not when you�ve rodded her 
good, as you have.  You�re fulfilling your duty, as a male.  Fill her up with 
your sperm.  Would you like to be a father?�
         �Not-- not if it takes away from sports,� the boy said.  �Mostly I 
just need-- ack-- need to shoot my load.  A lot.�
         �Yes,� Jane agreed.
         Miss Wood saw to the spearing of my twat by the second boy, 
immediately after the first had withdrawn.  He, in turn, was put to my 
nipples.  Jane stopped the machine and removed the cups so the boy could 
get at me.  My nipples were so sensitive, I screamed, when the cups came 
off.  But the boy showed me no mercy.  Immediately he put his mouth to my 
teats and began to suck hard.
         �Yes, work them, gently but diligently,� Jane told the boy.  �Don�t 
bite her!  Just suck them very thoroughly.  It won�t matter if she�s sagging 
in a few years, from getting too much attention.  She�s just a slut, 
anyways.  A very pretty slut, but a slut all the same.  My, how eager your 
friend is!  He just jams his pecker right up her, doesn�t he?�
         I was reamed in my twat even as my first paramour assaulted my 
breasts.  Miss Wood saw to the second boy, making him take me with hard, 
thrusting strokes, even as Jane made the first boy devour my tits.  The 
males hardly needed any encouragement but, given as I was already flat on 
my back and split wide, I regretted what they did give, for it made them 
take me all the less sympathetically.  There were no kisses, no hugs.  No 
gentle pats or blandishments of love, however disengenous they might 
later prove to be.  There was just hard, relentless, deliberate fucking.  
When the second boy had discharged, he was put to work on my breasts, 
even as the first boy continued to feast on me.  The third boy, meanwhile, 
was guided between my legs, where he began his own assault on my dell.  I 
squeezed his dick hard with my cunt, to try to make him cum quicker.  But 
he seemed the hardiest of all, and the biggest.  He jabbed me repeatedly, 
and paid no attention at all to my cries for relief.  His friends fed at my 
breasts as if they were mounds of food.  I was worked over like some kind 
of blindfolded, gagged, inflatable doll.  When at last the third boy came, 
shooting into the already-filled depths of my womb, he was given a turn at 
my breasts.  At last all three of them were ushered from the room.  They 
did not ask for their swimsuits back.  Miss Wood had them wipe their feet 
before they left, so they would not track their sperm on the floor of the 
exam room out into her hall.          

30

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