---------------------------------------------------------------
        PROBLEMS?  Please try viewing this with Netscape Navigator.
---------------------------------------------------------------

                         _/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/

                                  Andrew Roller Presents
                              NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
                                                 in 
                                      PARTY PUSSIES

                         _/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/

                                       Chapter Seven

         It was soon after that we stepped out into the night air.  I had heard 
Petra speak of us going into her living room.  Now, however, we were being 
taken outdoors instead, into the dark of the night.  The moon was set.  The 
trees swayed above us, close to the house, like Shades rising from Hell.  I 
felt frightened.  I heard an owl hoot and hoped it didn�t mistake me for a 
mouse as it went looking for prey.  My feet were bare, pressing into the 
soft, cold earth.  I was glad for my long hair.  It offered my body a little 
protection from the chilly night air.  My nipples burned, warmly.  The men, 
their cocks already cooled by the �Natural Ice,� must have felt worse off, 
I guessed, as their genitals felt the night breeze blow against them.  I held 
Ginger�s hand.  Behind me, Bethany and Bow held hands.  The servants 
followed, deferentially, Petra led the way.  
         We walked round to the side of the house.  Petra stopped before a 
pair of shuttered wooden doors, built into the earth.  She bent down.   She 
held a key in her hand, plus the whip from the bathroom.  She undid an iron 
latch that kept the shuttered doors locked.  Her hair fell about her 
shoulders and breasts as she unlocked it, making her look quite dainty, 
though I watched her with my hands clapped to my bottom, fearing the 
worst.  When the latch was undone, Petra raised one of the doors.  It 
creaked loudly as she raised it.  I hoped there were no neighbors living 
nearby, who might turn on a light and see us.  
         When the door had been drawn back, Petra beckoned to me.  I 
approached her, nervously, my hands still firmly placed on my bottom.  
Tom laughed as I passed him, knowing what I was thinking.  
         �Who has the flashlight?� Petra asked.  
         �Bethany,� I answered.  I felt a little relieved to find that she�d only 
wanted something to see by.  We had some starlight, but now the shuttered 
door, drawn back, exposed only an inky black hole in the earth.
         �Bethany, turn on your flashlight!� Petra said.
         �But somebody might see me!� Bethany squeaked.  
         �Never mind, Bethany.  Nobody�s here except us.  Turn it on, no one 
will see your nude little body.  Lisa�s going to lead us downstairs.�
         �No, I�m not!� I replied.  For all I knew there were rats down there, 
hordes of them, and spiders and snakes.
         �Tsk, dear.  Holes are what this night is all about, don�cha know,� 
Petra replied.  �Don�t make me whip you.�
         I saw her meaning.  We would be fucked down there, apparently, by 
the men with their big iced penises.  I let myself be given the flashlight.  
         �Go forth, adventurer!� Petra told me, sounding rather like John Luc 
Picard, except she gave my bottom a slap, which John Luc would never 
have done.  With a small yelp I let myself be made leader, and stepped into 
the hole.
         My foot touched raw wood.  I worried I might step on a splinter.  But 
I shone the beam of the flashlight into the cellar and made my way down.  
Stairs creaked under my weight.  I went lower, lower, the others watching 
as first my hips, then my chest, and finally my head disappeared into the 
storm cellar.  For a moment I worried that Petra might slam the door shut 
above me, trapping me, making me a true love slave.  But then I heard her 
tell Bethany to go next, and knew she at least would share whatever fate 
awaited me.
         �Ooooh, it�s spooky,� I heard Bethany say on the stairs above me.  Her 
feet made the steps creak, as mine had.  I heard little Bow ordered in next 
by Petra, and she seemed as eager as Bethany to go exploring, though 
Ginger, told to go next, protested.
         �Eeeek!� I cried.
         �Waht is it?� Bethany gasped, behind me.
         �It�s -- it�s a spider web!� I said.  I�d felt it brush my nude breast 
and now I pushed it away, cringing from it.  
         �EEEEEEEEEK!� Bethany shouted.  She ran back up the stairs, turning 
Bow around too, but a crack of Petra�s whip, over their heads, stopped 
them in their tracks.
         �DOWN, girls!� Petra ordered.  �You too, Ginger.  Off you go, girl.  
Down into the cellar.�
         �Oh, this is so awful!� Ginger whined.  
         I heard Tom laugh.  �I don�t mind holes, do you, Robin?� he asked.
         �Not in the least.  My dick�s always ready to go into a hole,� Robin 
answered.  Stupid men.  They didn�t understand that girls didn�t like things 
like this, exploring dank cellars, especially in the nude, on dark nights, 
when there wasn�t even any moon out.  We should be asleep in our beds, not 
down here, all naked, cold (though it was warmer, I had to admit, in the 
cellar), and shivering.  
         I felt earth below my feet and realized I�d reached the cellar�s 
bottom.  I passed the beam of my flashlight out into the darkness.  I 
gasped.  I thought it fell upon a gynecological table and then, sweeping on, 
a cage, and a rack, where one might be strung up and tortured.  This was 
noplace for me, or Bethany, or little Bow!
         �Whoa, this is like Dungeons and Dragons,� I heard Tom announce 
from the top of the stairs.
         �A dragon�s going to eat your penis if you don�t quit banging it into 
the back of my head,� Ginger answered.  She sounded peeved, upset.  I could 
hardly blame her.  I wanted as little of this as she did.  But Bethany and 
Bow, little eagle scouts both, (though in truth both were too young to 
join), slipped past me and wandered out into the room.
         �I sometimes play down here.  There�s lots of neat stuff down here,� 
Bow told Bethany.
         �Do you ever torture boys down here?� Bethany asked.
         �Sometimes,� Bow answered.  I saw they were holding hands again, 
now that they were off the stairs, and past me.  I still stood at the base of 
the stairs, hesitant to go beyond their relative safety.  
         �Girls,� I called.  �Don�t go out there.  It�s not safe!�
         �And do you cut off their penises?� Bethany asked, oblivious to my 
warning.
         Bow laughed.  She gave no answer, but drew Bethany farther still 
into the room�s darkness.
         �Girls!� I called again.  I felt slim fingers clasp my shoulders.  I 
yelped.  There was a kiss at my neck.  Ginger!
         �Hi,� she whispered.  Her hips touched warmly to my bottom.  �You 
go first,� she said.  �I�ll follow.�
         �Oh, thanks,� I said.  �If there�s something sticking out into this 
darkness, it will poke my belly, not yours.�
         �That�s right,� Ginger agreed.  She giggled.  I think she was enjoying 
her fright, now.  Then she let out a yelp, as Tom, with his big prong, 
stepped up behind her. 
         �Forward, ho!� Tom announced.  I felt myself impelled forward.  
There was nothing I could do except be leader, with little Bow, smallest 
of all, leading all of us to our doom.
         As we padded into the room, all of us barefoot, save for the 
servants, we came to a wall of bars.  The flashlight beam could pierce 
through them, but we could not, for they were bars just like those in a jail 
cell.  Even little Bow, curious as she was, couldn�t get past them.
         �When I was littler I could squeeze between them,� Bow confided to 
Bethany, trying to get between the bars, but not quite able to, because, 
apparently, her head and her pert bottom had gotten a bit too big.  She 
relented, drew back from them.  Petra, guided by my light, advanced past 
me.  She still held her key, plus her whip.  She told me to aim my light a 
certain way, I did.  I saw a keyhole revealed, in a metal plate, along one of 
the bars.  Petra slipped her key in and twisted it.
         Silently, a portion of the bars swung open.  A door!  The barred door, 
looking just the same as the wall it was a part of, opened outward to 
admit us.  Bow slipped in first, then Bethany.  I followed, Ginger behind 
me, then Tom and Robin.  The servants entered and Petra came last.  
Earlier I�d heard her shut and bolt the door that had admitted us to the 
storm cellar.  Now, closing us within the cell, she locked that door with 
her key.
         Somebody flipped a switch.  Perhaps it was one of the servants.  
Suddenly the room was illuminated.  Within the larger cellar, we were in a 
barred cell.  It was quite large, though, and included all the awful 
equipment my flashlight had earlier fallen upon.  We all gasped, seeing our 
surroundings.  Even Bow, apparently familiar with this place, emitted a 
small gasp, as all its awful devices were suddenly revealed.
         Just as I was ready to bolt, however I might, from this cage, I saw a 
pleasant living room in its middle.  It was just living room furniture, 
actually, but it looked safe and pedestrian compared to the items of 
torture all around us.
         �Yes, this is my party room,� Petra said.  �We�ll sit first and enjoy 
ourselves a bit before we get started seeing what agonies we can put each 
other through.  Take your seats, everyone!  None with their lover, though, 
for that would indeed be a waste of opportunities,� she added, with a 
glance at myself and Ginger.
         The furniture was covered in vinyl.  I worried that others might have 
sat upon it, before me, spending themselves here, but it looked freshly 
washed.  So, casting my cares aside (as best I could, given my 
surroundings), I plopped my bottom down onto a sofa.  It sat facing another 
sofa.  Clearly we were meant to see each other�s nudity as we sat here, 
even right between each other�s legs.  I kept mine open, knowing I might be 
scolded if I tried to block an intimate view of myself.  Tom sat down 
beside me.  With his hard penis, he had no choice but to expose himself.  It 
stuck up like a flagpole and I wished dearly to simply sit atop it, getting 
all this over with, but I knew I�d feel Petra�s whip on my backside if I did.  
(That I might, in any event, feel her whip, did not, however, inspire me to 
break what I knew were her rules of conduct.)
         �No touching, Bethany,� Petra warned, even as I speculated as to 
what I myself might get away with.  Bethany sat down next to Tom and 
appeared to wish to yank on his tool.  Bow, I guessed, had inspired her.  
The girl was only eight but she seemed eager to see what a man�s penis 
could do.  She peered past Bethany, seated beside her on the same couch as 
I, gazing at Tom�s penis and urging Bethany to take hold of it.  �Be good, 
Bow,� Petra warned.  �You�ll do just as I say, and no more.  I intend for you 
to leave here tonight with all your parts intact.  And that includes your 
itchy little hymen.�
         �Oooh, I want his big thing to go right up me, just like it does to 
you!� Bow replied.  She placed a hand on her pussy and seemed to insert 
one of her fingers into herself.
         �No, Bow!� Petra replied.  �We don�t even know if Tom will fuck me.  
And he certainly won�t be fucking you, little girl.  My God, do you think I�m 
that wicked?  Sit still.  I should dismiss you right now, but I want you to 
get at least a little education.  I�ve heard you�ve been bringing boys down 
here, and making them drop their pants for you.�
         �Just Freddie,� Bow replied.  �And Billie,� she added.
         �I should never have let you know about my parties,� Petra said.
         �You didn�t.  I sneaked into the first one.  Remember?� Bow asked.
         �Yes.  I know.  I thought you were safely in bed, and then you came 
streaking naked, right through the dining room, when I was up on the table 
being threaded by two men at once.�  Petra looked at me.  �It was her first 
orgy.  Age six,� she said.
         �I got to squirt whipped cream on EVERYBODY!� Bow said happily to 
Bethany.
         �I even had whipped cream on the ceiling,� Petra said, to no one in 
particular, for I�d frowned at her when she�d told me she�d let Bow see an 
orgy.  Yet tonight, would she see anything less?  I wondered.  I knew not 
what awaited us down here.           
         I gazed across the rug at Robin.  This portion of the room was 
carpeted, where the twin couches sat, though elsewhere the cellar was 
cement-floored, or even hardpacked earth.  He gazed back at me.  There 
might have been a coffee table between us, but it had been omitted, 
perhaps for fear that our sexes, so freely on view, might be less easily 
seen.  Side tables served for the placement of decorations and 
refreshments.  The servants did not come down with us empty-handed.  
Verona brought with her a big ice bucket, made from silver, laden with 
fresh ice from the kitchen.  Within it, sticking up straight and tall, was a 
bottle of champagne.  The men, armed with machetes, which they still 
carried, had cut flowers as we walked through the yard to the cellar door.  
Now Verona, setting down her big heavy ice bucket on a side table beside 
our couch, took the flowers from the men and placed them in vases on the 
table.  Already the fragrance of the flowers was noticeable in the room.  
Roses, pink and yellow, daffodils, a spray of daisies.  As she placed the 
flowers the Mexican men squatted down onto the rug, at its very edge, as 
if not permitted to enter any further into our nude sanctuary.  One of them 
took an oiled cloth out of his back pocket and absently began polishing his 
big machete.  Robin and Tom, with their stemming cocks, glanced at the 
Mexican�s mens� knives.  It was obvious that the two Mexicans, though 
smaller than our loves, and hardly poster boys as Tom and Robin were, 
could nonetheless weild their knives most expertly.  A single leap 
forward, followed by a whack, and either Tom or Robin would be 
Bobbitized forever.  It would happen just as easily as the big-headed roses 
had been cut from the bushes in the yard.  Easily, swiftly.  And Verona, 
with her Incan ways, would hardly protest, I imagined, if Petra gave the 
order.  The Incans had practised human sacrifice, both of men and maiden 
girls. 
         Petra smiled at Tom and Robin.  Her eyes were warm, yet 
commanding.  She let them linger over the men�s cocks.  Her gaze had a 
possessive air to it.  
         You could see, quite easily, where the men usually wore swimsuits.  
There was a white patch of skin traversing each man�s waist.  Smack in 
the middle of it was his pubic bush, with his naked cock rising a good ten 
inches (or more, I had not measured them!) from his bush.  The cock was 
rigid, pulsing.  Judging from the pre-cum dripping from its tip, I guessed 
that each man�s cock was already past the point of mere erectness.  The 
men were broiling with sperm, inside their organs.  Their balls were 
aching to cum.  Indeed, Robin tossed his head a little.  He was younger than 
Tom.  His face seemed to have a slightly feverish flush to it.  His eyes 
seemed to plead with me a little.  Yet I could do nothing.  Petra held her 
whip lightly but firmly in her hand.  I knew she would be happy to crack it 
across bare skin, leaving her mark upon anyone who disobeyed her.
         Tea had been brought downstairs, in a silver tea kettle.  Petra spoke 
to Verona.  The woman finished arranging the flowers in the vases.  She 
rummaged in a small bag, made of burlap, brought down by one of the 
Mexican men.  She took from it a handful of fresh bars of soap.  They were 
small bars, the kind you find lying about for free in a hotel room.  She 
broke each bar in half.  We watched her, wondering, then let our eyes 
return to the display of one another�s privates.
         Tom squirmed his buttocks upon the vinyl seat.  He reached out his 
arms.  He clasped me round my thin shoulders.  He pulled me toward him, 
so that I leaned against him.  His body was warm.  He caressed my blonde 
hair where it fell spreading across my back.  His other arm captured 
Bethany.  She squeaked as he drew her to him, then relented.  Her one knee 
fell inward, against her other, blocking the view of her sex.
         �Legs apart, Bethany,� Petra warned.  The woman gave a toss of her 
long curly brown hair and slapped her whip�s tip absently against the vinyl 
seat between her own legs.  The whip gave off a loud SMACK! as it cracked 
against the couch.  Bethany started.  Her eyes widened.  Hastily she opened 
her legs, moving her bottom forward on the couch as she did it.  As Tom 
caressed her long hair on her head, tousling it, she showed off her newly 
growing pubic hair to Robin and Petra and Ginger.
         I sat with my own thighs splayed wide.  I looked at Ginger, she at 
me.  We both had the marks of our swimsuits upon us.  My waist was 
adorned with a triangle of white flesh, showing where the crotch of my 
suit covered me when I went swimming.  A pale line banded my waist.  It 
showed where the waistband usually lay.  For Ginger it was the same.  
Now, of course, sitting without our suits on, our bushes were displayed.  I 
looked freely at her slit, she at mine.  Robin put his arm about her.  She 
smiled at him, at me.  I wished I had Robin�s arm about me instead of 
Tom�s.  Or rather, perhaps, I wished I had both Robin�s and Tom�s arms 
around me.  I was jealous, I suppose, I wanted both men for myself.
         Tom kissed my forehead.  I drew my face back from his.  He leered at 
me.  He sat with his hips well forward on the couch.  He displayed his 
virility proudly.  His eyes dropped to my breasts, passed over my smooth, 
indrawn tummy, came to rest upon my muff.  Unabashedly he dropped his 
arm to my hips.  His big hand circled round my waist and I gasped as I felt 
one of his big fingers stab into my sex.
         �Not yet, Tom,� Petra said.  She added �please� to be deferential to 
him, yet I suspected that if he had continued she would have gladly let his 
penis taste her whip.  Tom, reluctantly, unspeared his finger from my slit.  
I drew my thighs closer, feeling tense.  I was awkward now.  I did not 
know what I wished for anymore.  He had been so rude, so bold.  So crass.  
As if to spite Petra he raised his hand to my tits and yanked freely upon 
the nipple of my right breast.  I gasped again.  Robin looked a little peeved, 
but said nothing.  Stealthily Ginger passed her hand across her lap and then 
over to his.  She stroked his cock, using just one finger, careful not to let 
Petra see what she was doing.  Robin suppressed a groan, shifted his ass 
forward on the couch.  He felt relieved, yet inspired.  I feared she might 
make him spurt out onto the floor.
         Apparently the Mexican men were not strangers to this room, or to 
seeing others like ourselves entertained inside it.  One of them went to a 
shelf along the back bars of the cage we sat in.  He took down a bucket and 
a length of rubber tubing.  The bucket was made of tin.  It was dented.  The 
tubing was wide, big enough for putting around the end of a big knockwurst 
sausage.
         �Men, I want you to pee before we go any further,� Petra said to Tom 
and Robin.  Alfonse will put the tubing he�s holding around the end of your 
penis.  Then, pee.  He�ll take care of emptying the bucket.  When you�ve both 
peed, I guess I�ll go too, because we�re all going to be a bit soapy in a 
minute.�
         �Huh?� Tom asked.  He was growing impatient with her silly games.  
But Robin, secretly pleasured by Ginger, seemed not to mind.  He tossed his 
head, apparently more concerned with holding back his seed than anything 
Petra might be plotting.
         The tubing was put to Tom�s penis first.  Bethany and I watched, 
wide-eyed, as Alfonse fitted the tube to the end of Tom�s dick.  His 
sunbaked hands worked expertly.  Tom�s throbbing penis had its crown 
captured, stuffed into the tube.
         �Okay, piss.  Piss, Anglo,� Alfonse said to Tom.  Reluctantly, 
gripping my right tit and its nipple as a boy might cling to some part of 
his mother, Tom released his bladderfull of pee.  I watched as his piss 
went shooting down the tube and began to fill the bucket.  Bethany, 
impressed, let out a little sigh.  He jetted out his fluid with ease, yet 
vigorously, in full command of his person even as Alfonse leaned over him, 
watching that the tube didn�t pop off.  
         When at last Tom had emptied himself, Alfonse removed the tube.  He 
tore open a medicated wipe pad and, without asking Tom�s permission, 
passed it over his pee hole.
         �Hey!� Tom said.
         �Just cleaning you, Anglo,� Alfonse said.  Then he stuffed the used 
pad into his back pocket and tore open another.  He wiped the inside of the 
tubing, at its end, where it had been fitted over Tom.  Then Alfonse picked 
up the bucket and walked with the tube over to Robin.  Ginger drew back 
her hand.  Petra, leaning out, saw Ginger�s hand retreating.
         �Come here, Ginger,� Petra said.  Her voice was low, commanding.  
Soft yet firm.  Ginger looked at me, swallowed, rose from the couch.  Her 
hands darted back to her bottom as she stood.  She walked over to Petra as 
Alfonse bent and fitted the end of the tube over Robin�s cockhead.
         �Ginger, you must do as I say,� Petra said to the young woman.  
�Turn around, please.  Take your hands from your derriere.�  
         With a guilty shiver Ginger turned around, facing me, her bottom 
facing Petra.  She drew away her hands, did not know where to put them, 
finally settled them like butterflies over her naked mount.  
         �Yes, you have a lovely bottom, Ginger,� Petra said.  She stroked the 
girl�s ass.  Ginger looked at me with woeful eyes, knowing what must 
happen, fearful of it, yet, I suspected, a little enthralled by it, for we 
were all impatient in our private places to get on with deeper things.  I 
felt my own hand stray between my thighs and I stroked my slit.  It was 
wrong, I might be punished if Petra caught me, yet I could not help myself.
         �The skin of your bottom is so perfect, so pale in its color, like a 
soft pearl,� Petra said to Ginger.  It was silly, one girl praising another�s 
ass.  Yet I felt aroused by it, and found my clit with my finger and 
stealthily rubbed it.  Robin began peeing.  His pee trailed down inside the 
tubing and mixed with what Tom had already put there.
         �Ginger, I�m going to help you behave,� Petra said to the young 
woman.  Bethany and I watched with rapt attention.  Little Bow clapped 
her hands to her face, over her eyes.  Yet her fingers were splayed.  Her 
eyes peeped out between them.  �Do you understand, Ginger, that I love 
you, but have to teach you?� Petra asked.  She loved, I think, drawing out 
what we all knew was inevitable.  Ginger�s large lovely breasts began 
shaking like fruit on a windswept tree as she stood, bent forward, her 
bottom offered to Petra.  She drew up her arms, clasped them round 
herself, yet she did not cover her breasts with them.  Instead she squeezed 
her breasts within her clasping arms, letting us still see their ripe 
fullness, their stiff nipples.
         �Bend over more, dear, let your ass protrude fully to me,� Petra told 
Ginger.  Robin ceased peeing and Alfonse removed the tube from his penis.  
He opened a medicated pad and wiped it across the tip of Robin�s dick.
         �Ohhh, I don�t want...� Ginger moaned.  But she leaned forward more, 
as Petra ordered, until she was bent almost perpendicular to her toes.  
Petra passed a hand all around Ginger�s nude bottom, savoring its 
softness, the plumpness of her hemispheres.
         �Are you girls comfy on your bottoms, hmmm?� Petra asked Bethany 
and I.  Her question, I think, didn�t include Bow, but the little girl piped up 
�Yes!� as if to insist that she be included in the question too.
         �You and I will talk later, Bow,� Petra said.  Then, with a sudden, 
unexpected whack (in that she had just been addressing herself to little 
Bow), Petra brought the tip of her whip down hard against Ginger�s bare 
ass.
         �YEEEEOOOUCH!� Ginger yelped.  She straightened up like an arrow.  
Her hands flew around to her behind.  She rubbed it, vigorously.  Her long 
hair bounced aound her shoulders as her hands worked to soothe her tushy.  
Apparently she thought she�d received all her just desserts, for her face 
paled when Petra told her to bend back over again.
         �I�m not finished,� Petra explained.  �I�m in charge here, dear Ginger.  
Not you.�
         With trembling breasts and a panic-stricken face, Ginger bent over 
again.  I pressed my finger deeper into my slit.  I liked watching, though I 
would never have admitted that openly to myself.  I sensed Ginger had 
never tasted leather before and had defied Petra out of curiousity.  Now 
she was getting more than she�d bargained for.
         The maid began serving tea.  She poured the tea into tiny little china 
cups and gave one first to little Bow, then to Bethany, then to Tom and 
myself.  I sipped mine, watching as Petra touched the mark she�d made on 
Ginger�s fanny.  The tea was Japanese green tea.  I did not mind.  It was 
hot, had a soothing flavor to it.  The steam from my cup tickled my nose.  
With my free hand I diddled my slit, openly, not caring if Petra caught me.  
I sensed we all had to be punished before we would be put to the men.  Tom 
stroked my right tit again.  I pushed my breast forward, letting him take 
its tip, encouraging him to take more of it in his hand.  Bethany, on Tom�s 
other side, squeaked as he found one of her breasts and pinched at one of 
her nipples.
         �Yes, Ginger, you have a perfect bottom for whipping.  So nice and 
round, and you offer it so proudly,� Petra teased.  She gave the bent over 
Ginger another sudden whack.  The young woman squealed, shot erect, 
darted back her hands and assauged her naked hiney with them.
         �Sit down, Ginger, I must pee now,� Petra told the girl dismissively.  
Still rubbing her bottom, but with her hips swaying quite salaciously, 
Petra returned to her place beside Robin on the couch.  She gasped when 
she sat down.  Robin smiled at her.  He arched his hips farther forward on 
the couch and invited her with his eyes to reclaim his cock.  She kept her 
fingers to herself this time.  The maid served her tea.
         Petra scooted her ass forward on the couch.  She moved forward 
until her sex was off the sofa, and most of her bottom, leaving only just 
the smallest portion of her behind on it.  She spread her legs and called for 
the tin bucket.  Alfonse had just emptied it, down a drainhole at the back 
of the cell.  There was a faucet there.  Briefly he turned it on, washing out 
the inside of the bucket.  Then he dumped the rinsewater down the 
drainhole.  Petra spread her pussy lips, waiting for him.  
         Alfonse walked over to Petra.  He knelt before her.  He placed the 
bucket between her legs and scooted it forward on the carpet until it was 
under her spread-apart slit.
         �Ahhh, thank you, Alfonse,� Petra said.  Studying the bucket, 
carefully opening the flower of her cunt, she peed.  Her pee squirted from 
her cunt and fell splattering into the bucket.
         �Damn!  That�s beautiful!� Tom roared.  He took his arm from Bethany 
and clapped it to his cock.  With his eyes glued to Petra, he began to 
furiously fist his penis.
         �Tom, bad boy,� Petra said.  She continued to pee.  
         �I don�t care,� Tom replied.  �Whip me if you must!  God, how lovely 
you look, peeing like a mare in heat!� Tom cried.  Ginger looked at me 
glumly.  We�d already peed, upstairs.  Perhaps the Oriental tea would help 
us make new pee, so we could be admired by the men too.
         Robin was, I think, too close to spilling his load to indulge himself 
in a fisting of his cock.  He watched Petra with dreamy eyes, following the 
arc of her pee as it sprang from her cunt like water does from a balloon 
that�s sprung a leak.  We were all inspired.  I frigged myself, didling my 
slit with my small finger.  At the same time I drank my tea.  The maid 
watched me empty my small cup.  Without being asked, she came silently 
over to me and offered to refill it.  I let her. 
         Petra ceased peeing.  Alfonse broke open a medicated pad.  
         �That will not be necessary, Alfonse,� Petra told her Mexican 
servant.  �We�re all going to wash our genitals now.�  Alfonse nodded.  I 
felt a shiver run through me.  Wash our genitals?  Just our genitals, 
sitting here on couches in this well-appointed (if well barred) living 
room?  I could not quite believe my ears.  Then I remembered the soap.           
The maid returned to the side table next to our couch.  She replaced the 
tea kettle on a small hot plate.  She picked up the handfulls of broken soap.  
She began passing them out.  First to Bow, then to Bethany, then Tom and 
me, and then to Ginger, Robin, and finally to Petra.  
         �Rub your private with the soap,� Petra told us.  �Just your private.  
Not your breasts, or your tummies, or your legs.  Just your sex.  That�s it.  
I know the soap is dry, but rub it anyway.  A little will rub off.  My your 
penis is big, Tom.  Rub it all down the length of your cock.  Bow?  Put it 
into your slit and rub it all about.  Good girl.  I may yet let you taste a 
little pleasure on this night.�
         �It isn�t doing anything,� Bethany whined.  She always liked 
immediate gratification, even in something silly like this.  
         �Just rub,� Petra told her.  �Rub your slit.  Enjoy the feeling of your 
soft bottom on the couch, not stinging from the whip as Ginger�s is, and 
the openness of your legs, with two big men so hard and ready right beside 
you and in front of you.  Look at Robin�s cock as you soap the inside of your 
slit.  Yes, Bethany, he�s going to poke that big thing of his right into your 
soapy little slit.  And who knows where else?  Are you not a virgin in your 
bottom?�
         �Oooh!  You�re scaring me.  I only want him in my pussy,� Bethany 
said.  Eagerly, though, she rubbed the soap up and down her slit, and 
through her pubic hair.  Her bare butt squirmed on the couch.  I suspected 
if she�d been told to soap her bottom she would have done so just as 
eagerly.
         The maid drew a dripping wet squirt gun from the ice bucket that 
held the champagne.  She passed a soft cloth over it to dry it.  It was just 
a small gun, as a preschool age child might be given to play with.  The 
maid walked over to Ginger, and handed it to her.  Ginger accepted the gun.  
How silly she looked, a grown woman holding a small child�s squirt gun!
         �Squirt your dell with it,� Petra told Ginger.  �Your pussy needs 
water, doesn�t it, for the soap to bloom?  Squirt your slit with the gun.  
That will give it the water it needs.�
         Grinning rather nervously, feeling embarrassed, Ginger turned the 
gun on herself.  We all watched avidly as she depressed the trigger of the 
gun.  A stream of chilly water squirted from it.  She gave a shout.  The 
water was cold as ice.  Yet I think she shouted more from the silliness of 
it all, squirting her sex with the little pistol, for the stream was thin as a 
thread.
         �That�s it.  Give yourself several good shots with the squirt gun,� 
Petra told Ginger.  The young woman obeyed.  She squirted her pussy, 
wetting it, causing the soap to bubble up from it.  As she squirted herself 
she applied more soap to her dell.  She rubbed the bar over the ridges of 
her sex and delved between them.  The bar invaded her pinkness, turned it 
white as the squirtgun wet the residue of the soap.  
         �Ooooh!  Ahhhhh!� Ginger cried.  She threw back her head.  Clearly she 
was enjoying herself now, able to masturbate herself even as she 
pretended to be merely cleansing her ripe cunt.  The men watched her with 
particular interest.  Their big cocks thrummed.  She was sending them 
maddening signals, toying with her slit right in front of them, bringing 
herself to the brink of orgasm.
         �Try not to cum, Ginger darling,� Petra advised.  �Certainly the men 
must not cum.  What a waste it would be, for them to spill their seed on 
the floor.  Verona, Ginger is wet enough now.  Give Robin the gun.  He must 
wet himself next.�
         Robin accepted the gun from Verona.  We watched as he squirted his 
cock.  The stream from the gun was small, his penis was big.  It was like 
watching a man try to put mustard on a big hot dog, except the stream 
from the water gun was much thinner and smaller than a stream from a 
mustard bottle would have been.  Yet Robin squirted away, doing his 
cockhead first, then down one side of his shaft, then down the other side.  
He squirted along the top of his penis, then bent and squirted up the 
underside.  Finally, for he was eager to soap his balls as well, he squirted 
the gun upon them.  
         The gun ran dry.  The maid took it from him.  Languidly she returned 
to the champagne bucket.  The ice was melting.  She thrust the gun into its 
depths.  It filled with melted icewater.  She lifted it out, toweled it dry.  
She came to me.  I saw she was avoiding Bow, Bethany.  There was too 
much risk that those two little girls, armed with the gun, might go on a 
squirting spree. 
         I squirted myself.  I gasped at the chilliness of the water.  
Fortunately the stream from the gun was pathetically thin, though it did 
jet out quite briskly.  I squirted my pubic curls, my labial lips, then within 
my cunt.  At the same time I rubbed myself with the soap.  The stream 
from the gun found my clitoris.  Wickedly I squirted the stream right upon 
it.  I shuddered.  I longed to explode in an orgasm.  My belly trembled.  The 
maid took the gun from me and gave it to Tom.
         I sipped more tea.  I swallowed with difficulty.  I wanted to cum, yet 
knew I should wait.  I watched Tom soap himself.  His organ bloomed with 
soap.  I longed to bend over and lick it clean.  
         Bethany soaped herself next, and finally Bow.  The maid squirted 
their pussies for them.  She did not let them have possession of the gun.  
Finally, Petra was given the gun.  She bathed her sex in its thin stream.  
Bubbles blossomed on her dell.
         A cloth was passed around.  We were told by Petra to just wipe our 
hands with it.  When that was done, she gazed at us all with admiring eyes.  
We felt like her disciples (or at least I did), all of us with our sexes 
soaped, waiting for her orders.
         �Indulge me yet a little more,� Petra said.  She looked at Tom.  He 
was the most dominant of the two males.  He nodded, agreeing silently to 
her request.  Robin, tossing his head, yearned to cum.  He could think of 
little save his trembling penis.  Rubbing himself with soap had taken him 
right to the edge.  
         Boots were brought out by the maid and the two Mexican men.  Long, 
thigh length boots for us females (including even little Bow!).  The men 
were given shorter, knee length boots.
         At Petra�s request, I tried pulling my boots on.  They were very tight.  
I thought they might be too small for me but Petra assured me they were 
the right size.  The maid helped me get on my boots.  When they�d been 
drawn all the way up my legs they almost reached to my crotch.  I felt odd, 
clad in long leather boots, with my pussy all soapy.  The maid told me to 
stand.  I did.  She had me turn around and she tied the boots with laces to 
the backs of my thighs.  My boots had long, steepled heels.  I wasn�t sure I 
could walk in them.  I felt captured, held by them.  Yet I also felt a desire 
to rub my slit.  But I didn�t, for my fingers would get soapy and give away 
my masturbating.
         The men managed to yank on their boots.  Theirs, like ours, were 
lined with soft fur.  They were easy to wear, soft and comfortable, but 
(especially on me and the girls) quite binding.  They inhibited the bending 
of my knees.  I wished to kick them off, to be barelegged again, for I still 
was quite nude, with all the rest of me displayed.  Why wear these silly 
boots on my legs?  But I knew that, without the maid�s help, I was 
probably doomed to keep them on.  I didn�t think I could get them off by 
myself.  Trying to would have gotten me in trouble with Petra.
         Petra stood up.  She walked around to each of us, swinging her whip, 
admiring our boots as we sat like obedient mice on the couches before her.  
The men offered their penises to her, ramrod stiff and aching.  Bethany and 
Ginger and I offered her views of our soaped pussies, between our legs, 
and our stemming nipples on our bosoms.
         �Very good, very good,� Petra said, murmuring.  �I see I chose well, 
at the night club.  Excellent.  Please remain seated.  We�ll put on gloves 
next.�  She sat back down.  The maid distributed gloves.  She gave black 
opera length gloves to the females.  To the men she gave tight, wrist-
length work gloves.  I slid on the gloves I was given.  They were black, like 
my boots.  They were made of soft rubber.  I pulled them on with some 
difficulty.  When at last I got them on, they stretched all the way to the 
tops of my arms.  My shoulders were left bare, but my arms, like my legs, 
were now covered completely.  It was odd, being dressed this way.  My tits 
hung naked, my pussy was bared and soaped, my tummy showed its 
indented navel, but my arms and legs were more thoroughly dressed than 
at any time in my life!  Jerry Falwell would have been pleased, if only the 
logic were reversed.  Instead, this way, with my privates totally bare and 
my arms and legs suited up, I was, I was sure, an outrage to decency, 
pleasing only (and then only in his secret thoughts) perverts and Jimmy 
Swaggart!
         There were laces hanging off my gloves where they met my bare 
shoulders.  The maid came around and tied off my gloves for me, to my 
upper arms, so they wouldn�t slip down.  I flexed my hands.  They were 
encased in rubber.  I looked past Tom at little Bow.  I shivered.  How 
horrifying she looked!  A little girl, just 8, clad in long leather boots with 
stiletto heels, and her small thin arms bound in black rubber!  Her blonde 
hair hung loose down past her shoulders, down almost to her waist.  She 
shook her head.  She smiled.  She seemed not to mind her outfit.  For her it 
was like Halloween, perhaps, a mere game of dress-up.  Her skin shone 
white, kept from the sun so she could grow up to be Marilyn Monroe.  Her 
breast buds puckered pink and round on her chest.  Her belly button 
twinkled, a soft hole in her tummy.  Between her legs she was soaped.
         �We will go exploring in a minute, but first we must all put on 
wristcuffs,� Petra announced.  Black bands were passed out.  I saw that 
each band had a D-ring in it.  I knew the purpose of that, shivered.  These 
were pre-formed manacles she was giving us.  The D-ring would allow any 
of us to be quickly made secure, for sex or for whipping.  
         With a small gulp, I buckled one of the wristlets onto my arm.  It 
was like putting on a watch, except the band was bigger.  When I�d secured 
the first cuff around my left wrist, I buckled the second around my right.  
I was ready for action now, except I feared I would be the object of the 
action, not its perpetrator.  
         The maid came round to each of us.  She held ankle cuffs in her 
hands.  She bent and attached an ankle cuff to each of our ankles, buckling 
them round our boots, doing both the men and the women.  Even little Bow 
was not spared.
         I thought we were finished then, but there was still more.  The maid 
fetched more bands.  These were longer, and we were told to put them 
around our thighs, just above our knees.  I looked at Ginger.  She caught my 
eye, looked back.  But what could we do?  Tom and Robin were going along 
with all this.  We needed them to save us.  And we were locked in this 
cage, with the Mexican men both armed with machetes.  Petra smiled.  All 
was kept decorous.  The maid offered more tea, I accepted.  I sipped, felt 
myself relax a little.  Then I took the leg cuffs from her and buckled them 
around my thighs.
         Tom and Robin were not asked to put on thigh cuffs.  This made them 
happy, for they knew if we girls were being asked to put on more, it could 
only be for one purpose, to let them do as they wished with our bodies.  
They settled back, admiring us, grinning like foxes about to eat the hens in 
a hen house.  Robin shivered a little.  He was desperately eager to shoot 
out his load.  He only managed to hold himself back with a great deal of 
willpower.  I think at that point even the gentlest touch, fondling his cock, 
would have made him cum.  Fortunately his genitals were soaped.  Ginger 
could not touch him without betraying herself, by getting soap on her 
fingers.
         Cuffs were passed out next for our arms.  Petra was clearly in a 
mood to hurry things now.  She had us girls stand up.  She told us to tie on 
each other�s cuffs.  Carefully Ginger walked over to me, balanced with 
some trepidation on her new heels.  She drew out my arm from my body.  
She had me hold it there.  She banded the cuff around my arm and then 
buckled it tightly into place.  I shivered.  She was shivering too, knowing 
its purpose.  When she�d done my other arm, it was my turn to do her.
         �I�m afraid,� Ginger said to me in a soft voice, whispering, so that 
Petra wouldn�t hear.
         �Mmmm, me too,� I replied.  �You have soap on your pussy,� I said.  
She giggled.  I did not mean to make light of our plight, but at the same 
time as I felt scared, I felt enthralled too, for we were utterly nude, and 
wet in our most intimate place, with soap there to make us easier to slide 
into.  My nipples burned on my chest.  They were still covered with Close-
Up, though the effects of the toothpaste had diminished somewhat since it 
was first applied.  Either that or I�d begun to get used to it.  Was I being 
trained?  I suspected I might be.
         The maid next handed out collars for our throats.  I didn�t like the 
look of them.  They were leather, with D-rings on them, so I could be 
quickly secured to whatever the men, or Petra, might wish to see me 
attached to.  In addtion the collars had small studs on them, as if to say, 
�Go ahead, beat her.  She is submissive.�  I accepted a collar with 
trepidation.  But the one given to me was for Ginger, and the one given to 
her was for me.  I let her buckle mine around my throat first.  As she did, I 
watched Bow and Bethany.  They were binding each other in similar 
fashion.  But they were happier than Ginger and I.  They liked this dress-
up, not knowing, perhaps, its consquences.  The men looked at Ginger and I 
and the two smaller girls with equally wicked plans for us both.
         Petra was not included in the female-specific collaring.  She 
remained as the men, except her boots were long, with spiked heels, not 
work boots as the men wore.  And she had opera gloves, not work gloves.  
In addition, of course, she still held her whip, which even the men didn�t 
have, remaining ringmistress of us all.
         �And now belts,� Petra said, when all four of us females assigned to 
submissive roles had been collared.  The maid passed out thick leather 
belts, lined with fur.  I wrapped mine around my belly, felt it weigh upon 
the flare of my hips.  I buckled it.  It had D-rings on it, just as my 
wristlets, my anklets, my leg bands and arms bands and my collar had.  I 
could, I supposed, be fixed in most any position now, even the most 
extreme.  And still my breasts hung free and bare, and my bottom wobbled 
nakedly behind me, and my pussy showed its soap bubbles.
         �I feel like a heroine... or a victim,� Ginger whispered to me, 
adjusting her belt on her hips.  
         �You look like BatGirl,� I giggled.
         �You do too,� she replied.  Impulsively I leaned forward.  My lips 
touched hers.  We kissed.  Our breasts pressed together.  Our nipples 
touched, burned into each other.  We kept our tummies and slits back from 
each other, however, lest we smear soap over each other�s thighs.
         Petra ordered us to separate.
         �I�m frightened,� Ginger whispered, when our mouths separated.
         �You�re older than me,� I replied.  �Do something!�
         �I can�t,� Ginger answered.  Her hands drifted back behind her, 
caught at the hind cheeks of her bottom.  �I can�t.�
         �You want it, then,� I said.
         �You do too,� she answered.  I hoped she wasn�t right.
         �Shall we see the sights?� Petra asked with a laugh.  I wanted to 
answer, �Yes, as long as we aren�t tied down to them!� but I said nothing 
instead.  I felt scared, yet submissive.  I was collared, belted, booted, 
gloved.  A girl could not have been better prepared for what the night 
portended.  The men rose from their sofas, unbidden, knowing their hour 
had come.  They displayed their penises to Ginger and I, Bethany, Bow.  
They had lust in their eyes.
         �Let us proceed,� Petra said.  She patted Tom�s bare fanny with her 
gloved hand.  She pointed with her whip in front of her.  We glided toward 
the equipment at the back of the cell.
         There was a table there.  It was low to the floor.  It was covered 
with fresh, soft-woven satin.  Cut into the satin, in the center of the 
table, was a square.  It laid bare the wood of the table, and within the 
square I saw a pattern of metal diodes.  
         Petra told Ginger to sit down on the table.  Ginger obeyed.  She sat 
right down on the square.  She shivered a little, looked up at Petra.  She 
crossed her arms over her breasts.  Petra told her to lie back.
         Ginger obeyed.  Necessarily, she unwrapped her arms from her 
bosom, lying back and spreading herself out on the table.  Her blonde hair 
fanned out on the felt.  Her face looked worried, but she said nothing, was 
silent, as we all were, save for Petra.  
         There were D-rings sewn into the table.  Petra bent over the table, 
over Ginger.  She kissed the girl�s belly.  Ginger flinched.  Still she said 
nothing, no word of protest, though I could see by her eyes she was scared.  
Speaking softly to Ginger, telling her how pretty she looked, all laid out on 
the table like that, Petra attached Ginger�s wrists to D-rings along the 
sides of her body.  She had her bend her rubber-clad elbows upward, so 
that her arms were doubled-up beside her, so she could, if she wished, lift 
her hips without difficulty.
         �There,� Petra said.  When she�d bound Ginger�s wrists to the table, 
she went down to her legs.  These she drew wide apart, bending them at 
the knees.  Then she fastened Ginger�s ankles to long D-rings near the far 
end of the table.
         �Your soft bottom is resting on electrical circuits, dear,� Petra told 
Ginger when she�d finished securing the girl.  I�m going to turn on the 
circuits, now, okay?�  Ginger blinked, nodded.  She did not guess what my 
mind was already seizing upon.  
         �No!� I cried.  But it was too late.  Petra had picked up a small box, 
sitting innocuously on the floor, next to the table.  She depressed a button.
         �YEEEEOOOOOCH!� Ginger hollared.  She tried to bolt up from the 
table.  But her arms were locked to it, and her booted legs.  Only her hips 
could rise, lifting her torso with it, and her wobbly breasts.  The men 
laughed.  Ginger�s ass shot up from the square where the diodes nestled.  
She�d been shocked, right on her bare seat.  
         �Yes, exercise those hips, my dear,� Petra told Ginger.  �How lovely 
you look, all booted and gloved, with your hips lifted up, so the men can 
admire your neat little pussy.  Show it to them.  Ah, how wide your thighs 
are spread.  Let them look into you.  Don�t drop your derriere to the table, 
whatever you do.�  Petra laughed.  
         �Oh my God, turn it off, turn it off!  I can�t keep my hips up forever,� 
Ginger howled.
         �You�ll keep them up as long as I say,� Petra replied.  �Do you need 
help?  Then I shall give it.  Or, rather, Bow will.�  Petra reached up to the 
shelf, that hung from the back wall of our cell.  She took down a cattle 
prod.  She gave it to little Bow.  �Get under the table, dear,� she said.  
�Slide back the electrical panel.  Then stick your prod up through the hole 
and stick Ginger in her ass.�
         �Ho!  Ho!  Ho!� Bow laughed.  The small 8-year-old girl was delighted 
at the prospect of poking Ginger�s ass with the prod.  Even Bethany, who 
should have known better, was laughing.  Who was to say she, or I, 
wouldn�t be next?  Yet I was mesmerized by the effect of Ginger�s hips, 
forced into the air.  All her sex was displayed, and there was nothing she 
could do to save herself, or even her modestly.  
         Little Bow slipped under the table.  I heard a sound.  The electrical 
panel in the center of the table was slid back.  Bow�s face appeared, 
glowing, chortling.  Suddenly she stuck up the prod through the space.  
         �YEEEEEK!� Ginger wailed.  Bow poked at her bare ass with the cattle 
prod.
         �Stick her hiney hole with it,� Bethany told Bow.  Beth was ecstatic, 
as was Bow, both of them delighted to see a grown woman put into such 
humorous agony.  
         �Prod her all over, but just on her seat,� Petra told Bow.  �And don�t 
touch her tailbone with it.  Just her bottom cheeks, and within them, if 
you wish to make her really leap.�
         �Yes, don�t worry, I did this to Freddie once,� Bow said.  She was 
fingering herself, I think, as she worked the prod up through the space, 
delightfully touching Ginger wherever she wished.  Poor Ginger bounced up 
and down, showing us her slit with abandon.  Her breasts joggled about on 
her chest, her eyes began weeping.  Yet I saw her nipples were stiff, tight 
points of pink coral.  Was she enjoying, somewhere deep down inside 
herself, this wanton display of her slitted sex to the men?
         �Oooooch!  OOOOOOCH!  YooooOOOOK!� Ginger howled.  Each poke of the 
prod sent her bare hips arching into the air.  How strange she looked, 
wearing a leather collar, leather boots, and long rubber gloves.  I imagined 
her as an animal of some sort, all outfitted, performing wicked games for 
its master.  Except she was female, and quite human.  She wept openly 
now.  Her titties jiggled on her chest like big mounds of half-flattened 
jello.  Her bottom was in agony, each little descent of it met by the prod, 
forcing it to rebound toward the ceiling.
         �Hee!  Heee!  You�ll never be bad again!� Bow laughed from under the 
table.
         �What did I DOOOOOO!� Ginger yowled.
         �You bared your ass,� Bow replied, mirthfully.  She was like a bad 
little elf, sequestered under that table, tormenting the Shoemaker�s wife.  
While the rest of the elves were off making shoes for the shoemaker, and 
he slept sound in his bed, this little one played tricks on wife, or his 
daughter, perhaps, for Ginger was only 19.
         �YEEEK!  YAAAAWK!  Ooooh, PLEASE!  StoPPPP!� Ginger begged.  Then, 
suddenly, her face froze.  Her mouth formed a rictus of fear.  And then, 
arching up, but unable to escape the evil prod, she cried, �HOOOOO!  Not in 
my HooOOOOLE!�  
         Bow burst out laughing, under the table.  Ginger, bouncing 
althletically above her, had managed to keep her bottomcheeks squeezed 
tight, until now.  Tiring, she�d let go of them, just a little.  And now she 
was paying the price for that.  The little 8-year-old blonde jabbed the 
cattle prod into her anus.  It shocked her, repeatedly, though I guessed, 
since Petra had suggested the idea to the little girl, the voltage was just 
under the level where it might have caused her harm.  But Ginger was 
hardly comfortable.  She lurched upward, her legs splayed wide, trying 
hard to get off the prod, but losing the battle, for little Bow could follow 
her up and keep jamming it ever deeper inside her.
         �And your cunt, too,� Bow announced, at last.  She pulled back the 
prod, sending a wave of relief across Ginger�s features.  But just as the 
poor young woman relaxed, she stiffened again, even more breathtakingly 
than before, for the 8-year-old was now set on spearing her pussy, and she 
was wide as a Thanksgiving turkey before her.
         Pressing a button on the box, Petra turned the tip of the prod off.  
Bow offered the end of it to Alfonse, who wiped it quickly with several 
medicated pads.  Then Petra turned the device back on.
         �Oh, please!� Ginger begged.  But she could see we were all too eager 
to see her reaction to let her up now.  I walked forward.  I bent over her 
face.  My nude breasts caressed her lips.  She snapped at my nipples with 
her teeth.  I jumped back.  I didn�t want to share her agony, only to console 
her.  I could do nothing to help her.  I was only 13, she was 19, an adult.  
She would have to bear up under the other adults� punishment of her as 
best as she could.  But, bending more carefully, I kissed her lips with my 
own.
         �There, there,� I said in a motherly voice.  I felt sorry for her and at 
the same time I felt a sinful desire to see her speared.  I tried to banish 
the wish from my mind.  I succeeded, a little.  I didn�t wish to be bad, only 
good.  I kissed her mouth again.  
         �NooOOOOOHHH!� Ginger yelled.  Her face bolted up past mine.  I was 
thrown back from her.
         Under the table, Bow squealed with delight.  She�d turned around 
under the open square, changing her angle of attack.  Now she was pushing 
the prod up between Ginger�s widely offered legs.  It looked like a long 
penis, come to inseminate her.  
         �Oh, God!  NO!� Ginger howled.  It was no use.  Bow touched her tender 
labial lips with the prod.  Ginger shrieked.  She delved between them with 
the prod�s tip.  Ginger shouted even more loudly.  She found Ginger�s clit, 
stabbed it hard.
         �YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEK!� Ginger yelled.  Her voice was almost 
hoarse now.  Finally little Bow drove the prod within her cuntlips.  I had to 
hold my hands over my ears as Ginger cried hard, a long howling shriek 
that made even the Mexicans jump.    
         At last Petra told Bow to come out from under the table.
         �Oh, I don�t wanna,� Bow answered.  �This is FUN!�           
         �Yes, but I don�t want to wear her out completely,� Petra replied.  �I 
still have much more that I expect from her.  Right, men?� she added, 
glancing at Tom, then at Robin.  The men stood in awe of her now.  Their 
cocks were ramrod stiff, their balls set to burst.
         �Yes,� Tom breathed.  �Yes indeed.�
         �Your wife has a nice cunt,� Robin told Tom.
         �She�s not my wife, just my girlfriend.  But I�ll accept the 
compliment anyway,� Tom said.
         We all helped unbuckle Ginger from the table.  She was half-
destroyed, lying there with her hair all messed from her twisting and 
screaming.  Her soft skin was bathed in sweat.  Yet, as I kissed her lips, 
hoping to make her feel better, she began to smile.  Just a little.  Her eyes 
opened and she gazed up at me brightly.  I giggled, as her tongue tried to 
invade my mouth.  I pushed her tongue back with my own.  She drove 
harder, straining upward with her tongue, until I finally, to be nice, let her 
push it into my mouth.  I sucked upon it.  
         �You�re next,� Petra told me.  I froze.  �Not on the table, but on 
another one of my toys,� Petra added.  I relaxed a little.  I was aware of 
the men, watching me with hot eyes.  They were so handsome.  For any 
other two men I would never have let myself even be kissed, but for them, 
and their well-displayed cocks, I was willing to try.  Yes, I told myself.  
Not to actually do whatever it was Petra had in mind, but to try it.  I 
assured myself that if I didn�t like it she�d let me off, for I was only 13.  
It was a lie, but it consoled me, and let me go to my doom.
         Petra placed a gloved hand on my bottom.  It felt alien against me.  I 
started, rose from Ginger�s lapping mouth.  My bosoms hung above her, but 
she was too weak to rise, though she lifted her hands to try to grasp them.  
Petra drew me back.  She placed both her hands possessively around my 
slim waist.  With a whisper in my ear, a soft confession of her love for 
me, for my beauty, Petra guided me across the room to a big log.
         �Yes, this is our log ride,� Petra told me.  I gazed at it.  It hung in 
the air, suspended at both ends, a fallen tree waiting for me to perch my 
bottom upon it.  It looked like a swing, but the bark was still on the log, 
making it rough to sit on.  Anxiously I let Petra scoot me around the log so 
that my heinie was pressed up against it.  I reached up and grasped the 
chains which held the log like a swing with my gloved hands.  I gripped 
both chains, feeling their links in my small palms.  I knew I should jump 
up, hoist my ass upon the log, but I was worried I might get a splinter in 
my bare bottom.
         �Lift her,� Petra told Tom.  Not Robin, for he was my lover, and she 
wished for me to be intimate with Ginger�s boyfriend.  �Do not sit her ass 
on the log, though.  Sit her thighs on it,� Petra told Tom.  For that, I was 
deeply grateful.  Poor me.  I would soon find out a splinter in my bottom 
would have been far preferable to what Petra had planned for me.
         Tom came round to my front.  He stood admiring me for a moment, 
my nudity, him nude as well, his cock achingly standing upright between 
us.  I longed to have him, but Petra knew I did, and ordered Tom to restrain 
himself, for he was eager to have me as well.  Nonetheless when Tom 
lifted me up, seizing me by my waist, I let my hips sag forward, hoping to 
catch the knob of his thing on the lips of my cunt.  He avoided me, pulling 
his own hips back, and sat my thighs on the log.  My boots covered my legs, 
protecting me from its roughness.
         �Slide back,� Petra told me.  �Let yourself hang by your knees from 
the log.  Let your bottom drop down.  It must swing freely.  That�s it.  
Back, girl.  Drop your bottom down.�  Before I could fully appreicate what 
was happening, Petra had urged me back, making me suspend my heinie 
under the log, clutching at the log with the undersides of my knees.  With 
my hands I held tight to the swing�s chains.
         Each link in the swing�s chain was just long enough for a band of 
leather to be looped through them.  At Petra�s direction, Tom stuck a band 
through each of the links closest to my wrists.  The bands were equipped 
with D-rings.  Buckling the bands closed, so they couldn�t slip back out of 
the chain links, Tom fixed the D-rings on my wristlets to the bands 
hanging from the chains.  I was bound, by my wrists.  With my bottom 
hanging down, I couldn�t raise my wrists and lift my bottom back up.  My 
ass was exposed, the bare cheeks neatly parted by my weight.  I could feel 
the cool air of the cellar upon the portal of my anus.  It was then that I 
realized I�d made a mistake, letting my bottom overhang the log, and drop 
down behind it.  Petra laughed at my predicament.  Tom gazed lovingly at 
my ass, so naked, so wonderfully helpless, a big moon hanging down behind 
me, offering itself to whatever depravities Petra could think up.
         �Yes, you�ll swing on the log, like on a swing,� Petra told me.  �But I 
won�t push you to swing you.  I�ll strike your rump with a crop.�
         �No!� I gasped.  Wildly I glanced back over my shoulder for Ginger.  
�Ginger!� I cried.  But it was my turn, and I guessed Ginger, who I�d failed 
to help, would do no more than kiss me now.  She smiled at me.  She was 
just getting up from the table.  She needing help from Robin to do it, for 
her limbs ached from the effort of trying to avoid the prod.  I knew she 
must still be woefully sore in her privates.  Through the hair that hung 
down over her eyes, she smiled at me.  But she showed no interest in 
saving me from my plight.
         �Bethany!� I shrieked.  My eyes darted to my friend.  We were almost 
the same age, but she liked being babyish.  She stood holding hands with 
Bow, looking at me, showing no interest in helping me.  Traitorously, still 
gazing at me, she bent and whispered something naughty about me into 
Bow�s ear.  Both of them laughed.
         Tom wrenched apart my legs.  He parted them as wide as he could, 
drawing them out so that my knees were next to the swing�s chains.  Then 
he clipped my knee bands� D-rings into the nearest links of chain.  I was 
caught.  My legs were held, with my knees wide apart, fastened to the 
chains from which the swing hung suspended.  I had no way to close my 
legs.  I looked down at my muff.  It glistened with soap.  At least the stale 
bubbles provided me with a little protection.  But they were only bubbles, 
and Tom had a cock a foot long and Petra had wicked intentions.  
         With my bottom slung beneath the log, and no way for me to rise, I 
was at Petra�s mercy.  I asked her to let me up.
         �No,� she replied.  �And one thing more.  I almost lost my hearing, 
listening to Ginger scream.  You, dear, won�t have such an opportunity.  I�m 
going to gag you.�  
         �NO!� I shouted.  But Tom, eager to see me forced to perform on the 
log, clapped his hand over my mouth.  He held it there until Petra had 
fetched a cloth gag from the shelf at the back of our cell.  It was black.  
She gave it to Tom, let him have the pleasure of gagging me.  
         �Open your mouth,� Tom told me, removing his hand.  I did, not 
knowing what he intended.  He thrust the gag between my lips.  It pushed 
my tongue back.  I tasted the linen cloth.  It was fine linen, but I didn�t 
want it in my mouth!
         Tom knotted the gag at the back of my head.  The knot settled into 
the mane of my blonde hair.  I was captive now, booted and collared and 
gagged, with my bottom hanging down, waiting for Petra to work mischief 
upon its speres, and between them.
         �I�m going to wash your bottom, to make it nice and wet,� Petra 
explained to me.  I could only stare back at her, bug eyed.  She called the 
maid.  Verona brought the ice bucket over and placed it on the floor, under 
my ass.
         Petra bent down, bathed her hands in the ice.  �My, this water is 
cold,� she said.  �I�m glad I have gloves on.�  Alfonse, thinking ahead, 
brought her a sponge.  �Thankyou, Alfonse,� she said.  �You have been very 
helpful.  Put on a condom if you wish, and jerk yourself off, while you 
watch this.�  Petra leaned close, lifting the sponge dripping wet from the 
water.  She kissed my cheek.  �Alfonse likes seeing young girls get 
flogged,� she told me.  I trembled.  I blinked my eyes, tried looking back at 
her.  Suddenly I leapt like a fish.  The wet, ice cold sponge grazed my soft 
ass.
         �Oh!  Is it too cold?  Don�t worry, I�ll warm your ass in a minute,� 
Petra told me, laughing.  She bathed the underside of my bottomcheeks, 
loving my jerking, the pleading of my eyes.  She told Tom to look over the 
implements hanging from a peg board at the back of our cell.  �Pick your 
favorite,� she said.  �And I�ll use it on her.�
         Tom turned away from me.  I watched his tight buns as his figure 
walked to the back of our cell.  Below his bare, strong ass his legs 
descended into work boots.  He might have been a man hired to cut logs, or 
fix the plumbing, well-dressed in work gloves and boots.  But he lacked 
any clothing.  His back, his ass, his legs were all bare.  And what hung 
down between his legs was bare too, visible even from behind to my hot, 
searching eyes.  
         I watched as Tom gazed up at the cell�s back wall.  There was a shelf 
there.  Next to it, a black curtain.  He drew it back.  The pegboard!  
Suddenly a whole range of implements was revealed to my eyes.  I gasped.  
My gag caught my gasp, held it in me.  I saw long single-thong whips, and 
multi-thonged whips.  I saw short whips and short knouts for beating the 
body.  There was a police nightstick, ramrod stiff, and next to it dry, 
stubbled birch rids, sure to make a good girl of even the baddest child.  
Tom put his hands on his hips.  He gazed at the armory, apparenlty pleased, 
for his head tilted to one side, as if studying the weapons with manly 
appreciation.  Behind him his bare ass flexed once, then again, as if 
wondering what some of those awful things might feel like, connecting 
with his own bare skin.  But it was mine he�d been asked to select a whip 
for.
         Petra kissed my cheek.  I flinched.  I was beginning to fear her 
kisses.  Always she was at her most loving when contemplating torture 
for someone.  Again she kissed me, loving my immobility, my inability to 
protect myself.  I could only hang from the log, my legs spread, my pussy a 
flower aching to be speared.  My bottom was like a big ripe fruit hanging 
down, its fleshy halves already split open.
         The sponge trailed its frozen wetness over my ass.  I clenched my 
cheeks.  Tightly I held them together.  Perhaps for fifteen seconds I was 
able to hold them that way.  Perhaps less.  It was no use.  When I could 
hold them closed no longer, and let go, Petra drove the sponge up between 
them.  I flung back my head.  I wriggled, trying to free myself from the log.  
But I could not rise, could do little more than jerk, up and down, like a 
marionette strung up on strings, with my ass hanging down all pretty and 
white and bare.
         �Ohhh, is your pussy too hot?  Let me soothe it,� Petra said.  She 
dipped the sponge anew in the bucket and passed it up between my legs.  I 
bit my gag, hard.  That water was cold!  Ruthlessly Petra rubbed it over my 
lovelips.  She bathed away the soap that had accumulated in my curls.  She 
left my muff wet, free of soap, glistening with ice droplets in its kinky 
softness.
         �Mmmm, and now I must let you swing.  Do you like swinging?� Petra 
asked me.  �All little girls like swinging, hmmm?�  Tom brought her a 
long, swishy crop.  It was made for horses, but there were no horses down 
here.  Just me, with my bare ass, hanging helpless from the log swing.
         �Yes, let�s draw you back a bit,� Petra told me.  Deftly holding the 
crop in her fingers, she clasped me with both hands upon the wet cheeks of 
my bottom.  She drew me back, taking the swing with me.  Then she let go.  
The log swung forward.  I swung with it.  I looked back over my shoulder 
as I flew forward.  No!  I knew what must come next.  The log reached its 
farthest point forward.  I stared at Petra, over my shoulder.  She was 
waiting for my return.
         I swung back.  My ass displayed itself, watonly, bare and ready for 
action.  She swiped the crop hard across it.
         �YEEEEEOOOCH!� I gasped in my gag.  It stung!  Oh, it stung!  It was 
slim and whippy and it dug into my soft skin like a hot branding iron, laid 
on lengthwise, by its heated-up handle.
         �Is your bottom still chilly?� Petra laughed.  She watched me swing 
forward, impelled by her blow.  The swing reached its farthest point, then 
swung back again.
         CRACK!  Again the crop caught me.  Screeeching within my gag, my 
hair flying out all blonde and free behind me, I went soaring forward.  Tom 
laughed, standing at my front.  His cock was hard.  As I neared him, my 
legs spread, I know he wished he could stuff himself into me.  I wished I 
could accomodate him, but no sooner had I swung forward, I swung back to 
Petra.
         WHACK!  The crop struck me anew.  I felt tears in my eyes.  There 
was a high-pitched scream in the room and I knew it was me, crying 
through my gag.  I swung forward to Tom.  �Help Me!� my eyes pleaded.  But 
he did nothing, standing with his arms folded over his chest, watching, his 
cock like a broom handle, sticking out lewdly in front of him.
         �Aughgh!� Robin groaned.  Petra turned her head, missed her chance 
to strike me.  
         �Girls!� I heard her cry.  I looked back, over my shoulder.  Bow and 
Bethany had both knelt before Robin.  They were licking his cock!  Bow was 
kneeling on the table, for she would have been too short, otherwise, to put 
her mouth to him.  Bethany knelt on the floor, but strained upward, just 
able to reach him that way with her mouth.  Robin had his hands on the 
backs of both girls� heads.  I thought I heard Bethany utter a little gag, or 
was it Bow?  He was thrusting deep into one of them.  
         �Oooh!  Petra�s looking!� Bow cried.  She leapt back from Robin�s 
waist.  I saw it was Bethany he was forcing to take his cock down his 
throat.
         �Ah!  Yes!  Mmmmm!  Swallow, girl!� Robin cried.  Suddenly his hips 
flexed, his cock seemed to thrust even deeper.  Bethany tried to pull her 
head back.  He held her close to him.  I watched, swinging bare-assed on 
my swing, as Robin shot himself off into Bethany�s mouth.
         �Ah, he will come up again,� Petra said.  �He is young.  And he will 
be stronger, in bed, having let off a little steam.�  She turned, smiled at 
Tom.  �Put yourself in her,� she said to him.  
         �Into--?� Tom asked.  He could hardly believe his ears.  He�d been 
made to wait half the night and now, suddenly, on the spur of the moment, 
Petra was letting him have some fun.  With me.
         �Yeeek!� I cried.  Tom wasted no time waiting for Petra to answer.  
As soon as he realized what she�d said, he strode forward.  He seized my 
bottom.  He pulled me foward so that my pussy, strung up under the log, 
could be fitted over his dick.
         �Wait,� Petra cautioned.  She took her sponge and quickly bathed the 
soap residue from his dick.  
         As soon as Petra was finished, Tom pushed his cockhead hard against 
my vulnerable pubic lips.  I tried to close my legs, to be at least a little 
modest.  It was no use.  They were secured wide apart, to the chains.  Tom 
drove his newly scrubbed cock into my wet cunt.  I received him with a hot 
gasp.  He found me a a tight fight, but not as unwilling as I would have 
preferred, in my more modest moments, to be.  I tried separating my legs 
more widely, in fact, but found that the swings� chains kept them fast, 
whichever way I tried to move them.
         Tom drove deeper into me.  His fullness was almost unbearable for a 
moment, he was so wide.  I struggled to open myself for him.  But I was 
hanging helplessly.  I could do little.  He slid deeper still.  I cried through 
my gag, wishing he�d not go so fast, so hard.  
         WHACK!  Suddenly I felt the crop anew upon my bottom.  I shrieked.  I 
did not want that!  But it was no use, I was like a bunny, caught up my its 
feet, left to hang by the hunter, over a fire, roasting on a spit.  As Tom 
drove into me from the front, Petra smacked me hard on my behind.  She 
laughed.  She explored my open anus with her finger between strokes.  I 
squeezed my cheeks, but they were so widely separated by my weight that 
they drew open my little nether ring too.  It was virgin, yet she managed 
to pierce it with her finger.  I felt the tip of her finger inside me, and her 
fingernail.  It was sharp.  I was impaled.  Both ways I was impaled, with a 
gag in my mouth to keep me quiet.
         �Oh, too bad.  We used up all the tea washing Robin�s cock,� Bow said 
somewhere behind me.  �I�m thirsty.�
         �Let�s drink champagne!� Bethany told her.
         �Yes!  But we must get Petra to open the bottle for us,� Bow said.
         �No, girls.  You�re too young,� Petra replied.  She whacked my fanny 
as she turned to speak to the girls.  I yelped.  Her wrist was unmerciful.  I 
waggled my hot bum, hoping Bethany might somehow save me.  �Kneel by 
the faucet and drink from it, if you must,� Petra told the girls.
         �I have to pee too,� Bow said.
         �Do it in the bucket,� Petra said.  �Alfonse will wash it out when 
you�re through.  Wait,� she added.  �He�s jacking himself right now.�
         I gasped.  Indeed, I saw, turning my head wildly, both Alfonse and 
Rico were watching me, rubbing their pricks with their hands.  They wore 
condoms.  They were hired help, not permitted to loose their loads 
wherever they might wish.  
         �Can we suck on their tools?� Bow asked.
         �No, dear, you may not,� Petra answered.  �Be good and sit down on 
the table.  Just sit still for a minute, would you?�
         WHACK!  She hit me again, hard, frustrated by the girls.  I howled.  I 
wriggled my ass.  I would be happy to sit still for her, if only she would 
quit whipping me!
         Tom reared forward.  His cock was in me now, filling me, forcing me 
to gasp with the first pangs of orgasm.  I wriggled on his tool.  How huge 
it was!  I felt like I had some big snake up within me.  His cockhead 
bumped the back of my womb, somewhere far up inside me.  I screamed in 
my gag.  Was I happy?  Did it hurt?  I didn�t know anymore.  Behind me, 
Petra wiggled her finger inside my virgin ass.  She should not do that!  I 
was saving myself for a man, back there, not for a woman!  But it was too 
late, she was up me already.  I felt her finger slide back, as if to 
withdraw.  Then, suddenly, she drove it up me again.
         Tom was eager to discharge.  He pulled back.  With both relief and 
regret I felt him remove his tool.  But this was no porno film.  Just as his 
cockhead was about to pop out of me, he shoved it up inside me again.
         �WHOOOOOO!� I cried out, from under my gag.  Tom drove up me like a 
freight train.  My eyes bulged in my head.  I wished I could kiss him, 
suddenly, but the gag he himself had tied upon me prevented that.  Yet, 
somehow, I brushed his cheek with my split apart lips.  The gag was 
between them, not over them.  I think he felt my attempt at a kiss and 
appreciated it.  
         He didn�t spare me, though.  With lusty fury Tom began a series of 
in-and-out motions.  I had barely accomodated him when he would yank 
himself back.  Then, just as I got used to that, or was trying to, he would 
shove himself up me again.  Bow and Bethany crept close.  They watched 
me with avid eyes, watched Tom.  
         �He�s fucking her,� Bow told Bethany.  My friend watched me, wide-
eyed, virginal in her appearance, though she�d tasted as much cock as I, at 
Malthus�s and then at Robin�s.  But she was 12, and still retained some 
childish aspects to her.  She touched her bare navel with one of her 
fingers, inserted it, then drew her hand off her tummy, leaving just her 
pokey finger, jabbing at her small bellybutton.  Watching me, she seemed 
to imitate what she was seeing, and she stabbed herself in her belly 
repeatedly with her small finger.
         �Let�s fuck!� Bow told Bethany.  Clearly Bow was ready for it, but 
only with a girl, I realized.  Men still scared her.  The two of them kissed, 
Bethany tilting her head down to meet the uplifting face of Bow, who was 
shorter.  
         Petra glanced at them.  �Girls--� she began.  But with her finger up 
me, she hardly was in a position to admonish their kissing.  Bow drew 
Bethany over to the table upon which Ginger had been tormented.  Twisting 
my head back, my eyes followed them, even as I cried in my gag at Tom�s 
attacks on my person.  I saw the two of them lie down on the table.  The 
plate had apparently been slid back into place, giving them a full table to 
lie on, not one with a hole in it.  Or perhaps the girls paused, closing the 
plate just then, before lying down.  I couldn�t tell, for sure.  Each forward 
thrust of Tom�s hips sent him slamming inside me.  My head twisted to 
him, kissed his chest, then swivelled back once more, trying to see what 
Beth and Bow were up to.  Were they really going to do it?  But how could 
they?  They were both girls!
         At that point I lost my ability to see what others were doing.  Last I 
saw of them, Beth had accepted the underside position, since she was 
heavier, lying down on the table first, with Bow, like a frisky husband, 
helping her down, in order to hop atop her.  My orgasm built to a crying 
crescendo in my tummy.  It made my thighs shiver.  I shuddered all up and 
down my spine.  I felt wet between my legs, and knew I�d be wetter still 
soon, for Tom was groaning with my tightness, his big cock squeezed hard 
by me, stretching me even as I ringed and clamped upon him.  
         �Ahhhhh!� I cried.  Tom�s voice joined mine.  He grunted, I shrieked.  
Behind us, Petra issued a scream of her own.  She was diddling her slit, 
sliding her finger up and down within herself.  How wicked, I thought.  
There was no need to frig yourself with all these randy men down here.  
Alfonse or Rico might have enjoyed her, but she consigned them to 
masturbating, and came off on her finger instead.  With her other hand, she 
violated my bottom.
         Some distance away, I heard girlish screams.  Bethany and Bow, I 
mused, but I hardly cared to know anymore, for now my belly seemed 
suddenly to burst.  I rode hard on Tom, he jammed hard within me.  I was 
like something hung from heaven for him, split wide, gasping, a perfect 
target for his cock that he now began shooting his sperm into.  We became 
one, he and I, despite the log, or perhaps because of it, for he drew my 
bottom forward, using the log which suspended me by my knees to attack 
my privates more directly.  I was a strung-up bottom, an offered cunt.  He 
clasped me by my hips.  I felt his broad hands upon my bottom, splitting 
open my cheeks.  Petra pumped her finger in my hole.  I kissed Tom�s chest.  
He bent down, kissed my forhead.  I think he wished I didn�t have my gag on 
then, for we might have kissed quite deeply without it, as his head bent 
lower, seeking my lips.  But, tasting my gag with his tongue, he consoled 
himself with kissing my nose. 
         It ended.  Slowly but surely, like a balloon gradually losing its air, 
our orgasm subsided.  I don�t know if we had just one together, or more.  
However many it was, the time came when the last one had gone shouting 
through us, leaving us wet, panting, conscious of new things now.
         I had to pee.  I was sleepy.  I smelled Tom�s aftershave and decided I 
didn�t quite like it as much as Robin�s.  My bottom hurt.  I felt angry at 
Petra for deflowering my hole without my permission, for whacking me 
there so hard with her riding crop.  Tom had brought her the crop.
         My wrists were unfastened.  Tom did the work.  Petra retreated to 
the couch, sat down, ordered tea.  The maid told her the teapot was empty.  
The girls had spilled tea all over Robin�s dick to wash it.
         �Champagne, then,� I heard Petra say.  
         I groaned.  Tom walked round behind me.  He unfastened my knees.  
Gently as he could, he drew me backward.  I was pulled from the log.  My 
feet kicked.  My boots protected my legs and feet from being scraped by 
the log�s hard, splitered surface.  
         Cupping my bottom, Tom set me down on the floor.  My legs wobbled 
beneath me.  Gradually I felt my stance strengthen.  Tom held me until I 
could stand on my own.  I tossed my head.  He kissed my face.  Gently his 
finger�s undid the gag at the back of my head.
         �I have to pee,� I told Tom frankly, as soon as my gag was loosed.  He 
led me over to the bucket.  �Kneel,� he told me.  I squatted over the bucket.  
It was dented.  Clean, though, for the Mexican servants rinsed it 
thoroughly after anyone peed into it.  
         Tom cupped my under my arms.  My bosoms hung from my chest.  My 
nipples were hard, but softening a little, for I was tired now.  The night 
had been long.  
         I loosed my pee.  My bladder emptied itself through my cuntlips.  I 
let my head fall back.  It came to rest against Tom�s strong thighs.  I 
looked up, sleepily.  His penis hung above my lips.  I saw a drop of cum 
there, too slow to join its fellows in my womb.  I stuck out my tongue.  I 
licked at it.  It tasted rather like Robin did, or one of the other men I�d 
met, on my adventure.  I both liked the taste and didn�t like it.  It was 
male, I was female.  It both attracted and repelled me.  I was only 13.
         �Yeek!� I heard from not far off in our cell.  I jerked my head up.  
Still peeing, I saw Beth and Bow.  They were doing the 69.  Bow on top, 
Beth underneath.  Bow was getting her first fucking, I saw, courtesy of 
Beth�s tongue.  Did it count?  I wasn�t sure.  It was something, and it was 
being pushed up inside her, but whether Beth pushed hard enough to break 
her hymen, I didn�t know.  It didn�t look like she was.  I saw no blood.  She 
was teasing little Bow, and being teased by her.  I would have taken a crop 
to them both, for doing that.  All girls knew that was naught.  But I was 
too tired, and Petra seemed not to care.  The maid attended to Petra, 
serving her champagne, not minding the girls.  Robin had stretched out on 
one of the couches, exhausted.  He had danced well at the nightclub, better 
than all the other men.  He was worn out now.  His sperm was inside 
Bethany�s belly.
         �Ooooch!  Oooooch!  Deeper!  Go deeper!� Bow hollared at Bethany.  
She had her face down between the girl�s thighs.  Her own bottom rotated, 
as Bethany stabbed at it with her tongue.  It looked like a small ball, 
balanced and spinning and jiggling above Beth�s face.  Beth lifted her head 
a little.  She focused her efforts, delved into Bow�s cunt.  �YEEEEEECH!� I 
heard Bow scream.  But instead of leaping off her attacker, she bent her 
own head lower, and made Beth issue a scream as her own tongue plunged 
into Beth�s cunny. 
         I could do nothing to stop them.  I was pooped, too tired even to get 
up off the bucket.  Tom had to lift me.  When I was standing again, 
supported by him, I turned to face him.  We kissed.  I shut out the rest of 
the world, with all its strangeness, its wickedness, and concentrated just 
on the feel of his lips, and the press of his equipment between my legs.

30

----------------------- Dreamgirls! -----------------------
-Back issues (and stories):  type
http://www.dejanews.com/
into your browser�s �Location� window. Press your �return� key.
Click on �Power Search� in the middle of the screen.  Next,
Type in:  roller666@earthlink.net   in the box that appears.
Click on �find� (the button to the right of the box).

-Other providers:  
Usenet Newsgroup:  alt.sex.stories.moderated
or by e-mail:  file.request@backdrop.com
or via the Web:  http://www.netusa.net/~eli/erotica/assm/

-When visiting Barnes and Noble, ask for:  Jock Sturges� Radiant
  Identities and David Hamilton�s The Age of Innocence. Support art!
- JOIN the world�s greatest organization!  Send $35.00 to The North
  American Man/Boy Love Association for a one-year membership.
  NAMBLA, P.O. Box 174, Midtown Station, New York, NY 10018.
-Naughty Naked Dreamgirls (Library of Congress ISSN: 1070-1427) is
  copyright 1998 and a trademark of Andrew Roller.
-END OF story EMISSION   Need a book?  http://www.amazon.com
    

pp7