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--- DECODED ATTACHMENT (nudie_nursery.txt) ---
_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
NUDIE NURSERY
_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
Chapter One
I guess I have a sense of adventure. Most girls find a
girlfriend to do things with. But I prefer to go to go to the movies by
myself, or to the beach, or shopping. You never know who you'll meet
when you're by yourself. And guys are more likely to approach you when
you're all alone.
I love dressing sexy and going out and 'testing the waters.' I
love the anticipation of it. I'm just 15, blonde, blue eyed, with long
legs and high, firm breasts that most guys talk to as if they're me when
they're speaking to me. Women like speaking to me too. It's as if
they're afriad for me. Or sometimes they're just looking for a friend.
I play hard to get, though. It's the teasing that's fun for me. And
then, sometimes, you meet someone you want to do more with.
I was building a sandcastle on the beach when she knelt down
across from me. I looked up at her. I was wearing a skimpy bikini bra
that barely held my breasts. They're big for my age. I guess I should
feel bashful about showing them off, but I don't. My panties weren't
thong panties, but, on the other hand, they were probably sexier than
thong panties. They had a seat that was too small and kept riding up
inside my buttcrack. Every so often I'd stop playing in the sand and
reach back behind myself and pull my panties out of my crack.
"May I help you?" the woman asked me. I smiled.
"Sure," I replied. "I used to do this all the time when I was
a kid," I added. I patted the walls of my castle to make them firm.
She began piling up sand across from me. I saw that her nails were
painted and she worked delicately so as not to scrape off the polish.
"I like your Hello Kitty pail," she smiled at me. It was a
small pink pail with Hello Kitty on it, sucking a snorkel and watching
fish as they swirled around her.
"Thanks," I answered. "I like Hello Kitty."
"Me too," she replied. My visitor was raven-haired, perhaps
20-years-old, with a model's body and knockout breasts. She must have
been as daring as me for she wore a bikini with bra cups that were
extremely narrow. This left most of her bosom hanging out of each cup,
with just the nipple covered. The triangles of her cups stretched
upward and quickly gave way to nothing but string, which tied behind her
neck. A second string, around her back, kept the cups as secure as one
could hope, given their flimsiness. I noticed that she worked carefully
so as not to let her boobs spill out in front of everybody on the
beach.
"My name's Kate," my new friend offered.
"I'm Kelly," I answered.
"Hmmm, Kate and Kelly," she said. We both laughed.
"Do you cum down to the beach often?" she asked me. She spoke
in a light, sexy voice, and I swear whenever she said the word 'come' it
had an especially naughty ring to it.
"Yeah," I said.
"Do you have any boyfriends?" she asked. I looked up at her.
"Sometimes," I said. "Do you?"
"Not right now," she replied. I looked surprised and she
hastily added. "I just moved here. Guys can be such a pain, you know?
I had a boyfriend in New York and he was too demanding. Not in the good
way, you know?" She smiled. Her teeth were white. She brushed her
hair back, carefully, so as not to get sand in it. She had a mane as
dark and long and full as a show pony. "I inhertited a house on the
beach from my uncle." She looked at me closely. "Do you want to hear
something strange?" she asked.
I was going to simply reply, 'I guess so,' but something moved
inside me and I felt a sudden boldness. "Yes," I answered. Our eyes
met and I felt she was going to divulge some terrible secret to me.
"He-" she stopped, looked down. She put a hand to her breasts,
as if to hold them in (not a bad idea, actually). Then she looked up at
me again. "Don't tell anyone but," she paused again. "He ran a
preschool and, well, you'd have to see it to believe it."
"What?!" I asked.
She looked down. For a moment she just worked on my sand
castle. Then she looked up at me. "Have you ever imagined yourself
captive in something like this?" she asked.
"Sometimes," I answered truthfully.
"Well, he just has a beach house but," she gazed deep into my
eyes, as if asking me to trust her with her awful secret. "He kept
bondage stuff in his house!" she whispered.
We walked up to the lifeguard. We'd strolled along the beach
and finally picked him out. We held hands as we walked up to him. We
looked terrific in our bikinis but we had butterflies inside our
tummies.
It hadn't taken us long to become fast friends once Kate told
me about her uncle. It was so strange to think that a man, in this day
and age, had managed to run a preschool for little children and keep a
dungeon in his house. Imagine all those poor little boys and girls in a
house that had both a preschool and a dungeon! Of course, we didn't
dare to ask the unthinkable. HAD he done more than just teach them
their alphabet? Had they learned to count by having a whip flailed over
their little bare bottoms?
Together Kate and I gazed at the lifeguard. He was setting
surfboards up against the wall of his shelter. They were used to rescue
people. I think Kate and I needed rescuing just then, but no one was
there but him. And we had plans for him!
The lifeguard turned around and regarded us. We had let my
castle succumb to the incoming tide. I held my Hello Kitty pail in my
hand.
"You two don't look like you're drowning," the lifeguard said
sardonically. I think maybe he felt a little intimidated by us. We did
look gorgeous, and our bikinis were almost so small he might have
wondered if he should cite us for nudity!
"Are you into pain?" we asked him, our voices chiming
together.
"What?" he replied. His swimsuit grew an instant tent.
"Are you into pain?" Kate asked him again. Her voice was
no-nonsense, insistent.
"It, well, it depends," the lifeguard replied. Kate reached
out and took his big, brawny arm in her hand. She turned around and
tugged him along behind us.
"Girls, I just started my shift," the lifeguard protested. But
Kate and I marched down the beach, pulling him along, us like little
tugboats pulling on some giant steamship.
We stepped into the darkness of Kate's dungeon. She flicked on
a light. We were still in our swimsuits. We'd just entered her house
and come right downstairs, not bothering with anything else. Our eyes
widened as we saw all the things her uncle had collected.
Amidst chains and whips and paddles, posts and trestles and
cages too small to stand up in, were a swingset, a slide, a sandbox, and
a children's table with toys on it.
"Here it is," Kate breathed. "I've nicknamed it Nudie
Nursery."
"Naked games," I whispered. I remembered headlines from my
childhood about satanic preschools, real and imagined.
"Have you reported this to the authorities?" our lifeguard
boyfriend asked Kate. His name was Ray.
Kate looked at Ray and turned and faced him. Without even
asking permission, she bent and yanked his swim trunks right down to his
thighs. His cock sprang out. It was as big as she and I had imagined.
It stuck out like a freed snake and we both stared at it.
When Kate had recovered herself, she looked up at Ray's eyes.
"After I see what all's down here, then maybe I'll report it to the
police," she explained to him.
"Yeah," Ray replied. He was stunned that she'd been so bold as
to yank down his swimsuit. I could see where his tan line ended and his
loins began. It was amazing to see his huge erection just sticking out
like that. Yet Kate and I were still in our bikinis, tiny as they
were. We'd given him nothing in return.
Kate had a waif's body and beautifully long legs but I imagined
she'd never make it big in modeling because her breasts were so large.
She looked up at Ray with her large, childish eyes and spoke to him very
frankly. "Honey," she explained. "I want to experiment with this stuff
and I want to do it on you. I hope you're willing. I must admit that
it will probably be kind of painful for you. This stuff isn't just for
pleasure, you know."
Ray, despite his massive size, simply stared back at her with
his boyish good looks and his cock sticking out like he was waiting to
have it inspected. Perhaps he imagined we were going to draft him into
the Army.
"Take your pants off," Kate told him. "Obviously you can't
wear them down here." She spoke in a soft, very feminine voice. But
her words were definite. They brooked no disobedience. At the same
time, in keeping with her feminine nature, her hands slipped nervously
up and down her thighs.
Ray dropped his pants and stepped out of them. Kate bent and
picked up his trunks. "Let's get rid of these," she said. She walked
over to the children's table. There was a long, very sharp and
dangerous-looking pair of scissors lying atop it.
"Hey, those are my pants!" Ray shouted. He wore nothing else,
except his flip-flops, and he'd left those at the front door. Both he
and I watched in amazement as Kate very deliberately cut up his shorts
into small pieces. One by one they fell away and drifted down to the
surface of the children's table.
"There, that should give the children a nice puzzle to work on
when they come back to school on Monday," Kate smiled. She laid the
scissors back down on the table.
"Well?" Ray asked. I think he was beginning to regain his
senses. It's not every day, even for a lifeguard, that two sex kittens
walk up to you and haul you off to a dungeon!
"Well what?" Kate asked.
"Aren't you girls going to get undressed?" Ray demanded. Kate
looked at me. I found my eyes looking at her breasts with their small
triangle cups.
"It's not like we'd be revealing all that much," I admitted.
"Okay," she replied. And with as few words as that, we agreed
to get naked. She reached behind herself even as I did and, together,
we shed our tops. Ray's eyes widened as our bosoms sprang into view.
We had big ones, snowy where our tops kept us covered, tanned where they
didn't, and our nipples were already hard, like stemmed cherries.
"You girls are gorgeous," Ray sighed.
"The show's not over yet," Kate smiled. She undid her bottoms
and I untied mine. We showed our pussies to each other and to ray as
our undies fell to the floor. We did not bother to pick them up. Our
tops and bottoms discarded, Kate and I took a moment to walk up to each
other and get comfy. We embraced, we kissed.
"Hi," she said to me.
"Hi," I replied.
"Do you mind pain?" she asked me. I shivered.
"A little's okay," I answered.
"Good," she said.
I'd played in a dungeon once before, out in the canyons above
L.A. It had hurt but I'd survived. And I'd never cum like I'd cum in
that dungeon. Kate seemed to be a little experienced herself. The
sight of all the whips and paddles didn't daunt her. She drank them in
like a lady who'd seen such things before, perhaps even played with
them. I'd been just a child in the previous dungeon I'd visited. But
now, I guessed, I might have a chance to call some of the shots. The
thought excited me. I was just 15, fucked only a few times, yet I might
get to play domme! With Ray, no less, a guy any girl would die to
dominate.
"Go get a paddle off the wall," Kate whispered to me. We were
girls sharing secrets. I guessed it wouldn't be used on me so I agreed.
"Okay," I replied in a hushed voice. As I walked over to the
wall where whips hung neighbor to paddles and paddles to belts, Kate
turned back to Ray.
"Sir, would you please let me lick your cock?" she asked
innocently. "It's forbidden for a man to enter the dungeon without
having a nice wet cock." I knew she was making it up and I giggled.
"Don't laugh," Kate told me seriously. "Some men have to lick
their own penis if there aren't enough girls present. Ray's very
fortunate. He has me to make sure he obeys all the rules."
I stood on tiptoe and took down a big paddle from the wall. It
had holes drilled through it so that it would meet less air resistence
when it was swung. Of course, that would make it splat all the harder
against Ray's ass!
Kate knelt down on the floor. Perhaps in deference to the
preschool children, it had a thick carpet. Kate put her mouth to Ray's
cockhead and swirled her tongue around his pee hole.
"You taste... salty," Kate told him.
"You should be glad I took a shower before coming on duty," Ray
told her. "Sometimes I just go swimming to take a bath."
"Yes, dear, you men are always looking for short cuts, aren't
you?" Kate smiled. She pushed his cockhead fully into her mouth and
then drew it out again. She looked up at him. "Of course, down here,
there are no short cuts, sir. You must hold out for a very long time,
and only cum when I tell you."
Ray laughed. "So what if I just cum in your mouth and leave?"
he asked.
"Well, despite not having any pants to put on, there's the
matter of getting your buns toasted," Kate replied. She winked at me.
I'd snuck up behind Ray and he'd been too mesmerized by Kate's mouth on
his prick to notice me. I swung hard and gave him a splatting swat
right across his bare seat with the paddle with holes in it.
"Hey! Yeoooow!" Ray said. It was a kind of delayed howl, as
if he had to establish who'd hit him before he could permit himself to
cry out.
Kate had to contend with having Ray's cock jammed more deeply
into her mouth as a result of me whacking Ray's bottom and impelling his
hips forward. Nonetheless, she drew him out after I'd hit him and said,
her lips brushing his pee hole, "Hit him again." I complied. She
popped him back into her mouth just in time to absorb the full force of
my blow impelling his cock down into her throat. Ray groaned. I
wondered if he preferred the second swat, for he said nothing and his
cock burrowed deeply into Kate's silky throat. She gagged, but seemed
grateful that she'd been made to accept him in one fell swoop.
"That's it, suck me good, bitch," Ray told Kate. He reached
forward and grabbed her by her hair and jabbed himself into her mouth.
She gurgled over his prick but tried to keep her lips sealed as best she
could. He drove himself into her throat, back and forth, she gagged and
coughed but did her best to accept him.
I know Ray was dying to cum in the mouth of this lovely model
who was on her knees in front of him, very obedient, taking the full
length of his manhood in her throat. To his credit he pulled back after
a dozen strokes and freed his organ from her lips.
"You are so fine," he said. "But I'll prove to you that I can
handle anything you throw at me. I've done a little S&M myself though,
admittedly, not in a nursery for small children." He looked around.
Kate, after licking her lips a moment to regain her composure, stood up
and brushed back her hair. She was wearing spectacular earrings, but
otherwise she was naked. I too wore earrings. We both looked
fabulous. Neither of us had gone swimming and our hair was still as
perfect as you could hope, having been toyed with by the beach breeze
but otherwise left intact.
"Well, since we're all a little experienced, I guess we can get
right down to business, then," Kate said. She smiled at Ray. "I'm
going to put your cock through it's paces. I'm glad you can hold your
seed so well. I want to really give your dick a good work out today!"
"I just hope you can handle it when I turn the tables on you,"
Ray replied. He flexed his arms and his biceps bulged and I realized he
could have us whenever he chose. It frightened me to think that he
might do anything with us that he pleased, any time it pleased him to.
"What would you ever want to do with a poor girl like me?" Kate
asked Ray. She let her eyes grow large and soulful. Ray smiled.
"I'm tough," he said simply.
"Ooooh, you're just teasing," Kate said primly. She turned and
walked to the door we'd come through. It still hung open. She closed
the door and lowered a large bar of wood across the middle of it. Then
she locked it with a key.
"That should keep anyone from rescuing us," she smiled. She
walked over to a wall and picked up a pair of heels. She slipped them
on, then bent down and buckled them. "I like wearing heels. It makes
me feel more womanly," she said. She looked at me. "I have another
pair here." She bent down and picked them up and walked them over to
me, letting them dangle from her fingers. She set them down at my
feet. I tried them on. They fit perfectly. She bent and buckled them
around my ankles. They were open-toed pumps, like a girl might go
dancing in.
"I hoped I might meet someone my own age to play with, but
then, buying shoes yesterday, a little voice told me to buy a smaller
pair," she said. She looked up at me and smiled as she finished shoeing
my feet. "Actually," she admitted, "I bought several pairs. Then I saw
a girl walk by my house and thought I'd go out and meet her. When I
did, she was gone, but I met you instead. You're both the same age,
though."
"Thanks," was all I could say. I was glad she'd picked me,
even I was only second choice.
"You're prettier," she assured me. She stood up and took my
hand. "Come on, let's show Ray what girls are made of!" she smiled.
Bravely we walked over to Ray and stood before him, letting him
admire our breasts and our cunnies, our cute faces, our sunny smiles.
Then, just when he was getting the idea that he might avoid our training
and make us slaves to him, Kate took him delicately by the penis and
drew him by his hard-on over to a waist-sized pillory. There was a
single hole in it and I had no doubt, nor did Ray, what it was for.
Kate lifted the pillory's upper crossbeam and fitted Ray's dick through
the hole. Then she lowered the crossbeam and Ray found himself with a
pilloried penis. It stuck through the hole, like a big fleshy daggar
thrust through the wood. Kate clamped the pillory's two crossbeams
together so that Ray could not escape.
"You, sir, are undone by your own erection," Kate smiled. Ray
looked down at his manhood, thrust through the wood. His cock was
squeezed at its base by the pillory's two joined crossbeams. It was
strange to see Kate, the lovely model with the beautiful smile,
subjecting poor Ray to such torture.
"What-what are you going to do to it now that you've got it?"
Ray asked of his cock. It was as if his cock was a living thing that
had somehow been separated from him. Yet he would still be able to feel
every torment she chose to give it. And there was no doubt of its being
tortured. This was S&M. If we'd been here simply to fuck we could have
done that at once, even outside, behind a dune on the beach. But here,
in the deep shade of the dungeon, things were meant to be drawn out.
Tested, tasted, pleased and punished.
"I want to see if you can handle the fire and ice test," Kate
told Ray. "Most men can't. They spurt right away, or freak out
totally. One guy, I'm told, even fainted. But you can, I'm sure. I'm
counting on it," she smiled.
Kate walked to the wall where all the implements of torture
were kept. Her bottom moved salaciously as she walked. It was small,
her ass cheeks high and pert. It might have looked too high and
childish but her waist was slim as a wasp's and so as a result she had a
lovely hourglass shape after all. She let her bottom sway as if it were
much bigger and heavier. The effect was to make her look like she had
no more morals than a common tart. (Which, no doubt, pleased Ray even
more.)
Kate poked through some gloves laid in a pile on a shelf on the
wall. They were made of leather. "Rats, they're all fingerless," she
said. "Oh well, they'll give me a little protection, I guess." She
drew on a pair of gloves that wrapped her arms in leather but left her
hands bare. A thong on each glove hooked round her middle finger to
keep the gloves from slipping up her arms farther than was intended.
The gloves, rising to just above her elbows, had to be tied to her upper
arms with drawstrings that hung down from the gloves. Kate called me
over and I tied the gloves to her arms.
"There, that should keep them from sliding around," Kate said,
admiring my handiwork when I was done.
"All that trouble just to put on a pair of gloves!" I sighed.
"They're opera gloves," she smiled at me. "Except they're made
of leather and for playing in a dungeon. I'd prefer listening to men
groan instead of women sing, and looking at fat dicks instead of fat
ladies, woudldn't you?" she asked. I had to admit I agreed.
"Get a cannister of whipped cream from that little fridge over
there," Kate told me. I turned and looked over my shoulder. Hiding
behind a large inflated clown, meant to be knocked over only to pop up
again, thanks to his rounded base, was a fridge. It was small, but I
guessed it had enough treats in it to keep us happy. I'd not seen it
before. I was grateful to Kate's uncle for putting it there.
Inside the fridge I found I big pitcher of Kool-Aid. It was
Cherry, my favorite flavor. There were popsicles too, frozen not over
sticks but rectal thermometers, with flanged handles to keep them from
being lost inside a patient's ass.
I found the can of whipped cream and came trotting back to
Kate, with a rectal thermometer popsicle in my other hand. I was
licking it. Being on the beach had made me thirsty.
"Oh, delicious!" Kate smiled. She was lighting a candle. It
was bare and she had to hold the candle carefully lest she drip wax on
her fingers. "Don't eat the popsicle, dear," she told me. "Put it up
Ray's ass!"
"What?!" Ray cried. But I found the suggestion irresistible.
I stuck my popsicle between his rear cheeks and urged him to open
himself to me.
"Do it," Kate told Ray. "Reach back and open your ass for her
or you'll get this candle flame right under your cockhead."
"You girls are perverted!" Ray groused. He reached back,
though, and spread his hairy buns for me. I spied his little hole and
stuck my cold popsicle against it.
"Come on, Ray, your hiney-hole likes popsicles too!" I laughed.
Kate, meanwhile, hovered her candle over Ray's prick. As he
held himself open for my impish game, he watched as Kate's candle began
to warm at the tip where the flame flickered atop it.
"I hope none of my lifeguard buddies discover me down here,"
Ray breathed.
"You can tell them we blew your nose and then we blew your
mind," Kate smiled. She still showed him the same glossy, good-girl
smile she had since we'd met, but now she was about to singe his dick
with hot wax!
"Are all the girls who are as beautiful as you two this
dangerous?" Ray asked. His voice was haggard. I think he was truly
worried that we were going to injure him! Imagine, a guy as big as him,
a 20-something Swarzenegger, and he was afraid of us two little girls!
"What, haven't you screwed tons of girls like us?" Kate asked.
"I just got the lifeguard job," Ray admitted.
"Well, sir, you'll just have to find out by meeting other
beautiful girls after we're finished with you," Kate smiled. "If, that
is, you've anything left to show them." She tilted the candle slightly
and a dollop of hot wax splashed down onto Ray's cock.
"Yeeeeooow!" Ray shouted. At the same moment I managed to
intrude some of my popsicle into his rectum. Perhaps the amazement of
being burned by hot wax had caused Ray to accept me, fearfully, like
when someone is hanged and they go in their pants. I felt his anus open
and lost some of my popsicle inside him. I kissed his hiney.
"Let mommie take your temperature," I urged. He was ignoring
me, though, for Kate, having burned his dick with hot wax, now played
firegirl and sprayed a clump of chilled whipped cream on his dick.
"There, that should help," she said soothingly. "Poor Ray, you
have such a big fine penis that we girls just can't help playing tricks
on it!" His cock was truly wonderful, no match for the popsicle I was
pretending with. It quivered and throbbed and pre-cum oozed from its
tip. No sooner had Kate eased his suffering with the Redi-Whip than she
gave him a new dose of wax. It splashed down and he groaned again, not
really hurt by it but certainly taunted. Then, to make him better but
actually to make him suffer even more, Kate sprayed more icy whipped
cream on his dick. "Fire and Ice," she smiled at him. "But you're man
enough to take it, aren't you, honey?"
"Not with a fucking ice-cold thermometer rammed up my butt!"
Ray shouted. But Kate and I just tittered with laughter and kept on
with our game.
Kate knelt down in front of Ray and gave him the benefit of her
mouth. Sucking with her cool swirling lips on his cockhead, she stopped
whenever the candle was about to drip more wax, let it fall, squirted
some cream on him, and then resumed her sucking.
"Control, Ray honey, control," Kate said to our dear captive
stallion as she loosed her lips from him to burn and freeze him again.
"You don't plan to cum, do you?"
"N-No," Ray said through gritted teeth. He watched as Kate
drizzled hot wax on his dick. Then, solicitiously, she squirted him
with whipped cream, but since the cream went in one place on his dick
and the wax on another, it did nothing to alleviate the burning while
the burning was not cooled at all by the cream.
I was getting bored with my thermometer. All the popsicle had
melted away and I had taken Ray's temperature, again and again, reaming
him with the stick. It sounds silly, but even sticking a thermometer up
a beautiful man's butt can get boring after awhile, when you're
15-years-old!
"Can I spank Ray again?" I asked Kate.
"Sure," she replied, freeing her mouth from his dick to answer
me. "But don't use the paddle. He's stuck inside that little hole and
has noplace to go, with the boards clamping down on him. Use a thin
whip instead. It will snake nicely across his ass but not ram him
forward."
I obeyed her advice. But first I poured myself a big glass of
Cherry Koolaid to slake my ever-thirstier mouth. I offered some to
Kate. She must have been thirsty too, for she accepted, sipping right
from my own glass. I didn't mind. We were good friends now. We both
had Cherry mustaches when we were finished.
"Ray, would you like some too?" I asked. He said he would. I
stood on tiptoe and let him drink from my glass as Kate continued to
punish his penis. He had a cherry mustache too when he'd drunk his
fill.
"Don't pee it out on me," Kate warned him.
"Rats," he answered.
"I'll let you pee when I'm finished with you," she said.
I picked out the thinnest whip I could find from the selection
hung on the wall. Kate said thin hurt more, but was less able to shove
Ray forward when he was struck. In fact, it didn't shove at all. It
just burned across his hiney, leaving a bright streak on his white
buns. Of course, he was free to buck his ass as best he could and grind
it all around to throw off the pain.
I laid the whip across Ray and enjoyed his response. At first
he tried with manful fortitude to endure my strokes and show no pain.
But as I continued, flaying him ever more thoroughly, he began to let
his emotions show. After a bit each of my strikes caused him to shout
and rub his ass and flex it.
"Keep your hands up off your ass," Kate told Ray. "Don't be a
bad boy and make us handcuff you."
"God, I wish someone would bust us and send me to prison!" Ray
howled.
"You'd like it there, wouldn't you, Ray?" Kate smiled. "Just
you and the guys. No naughty little girls to torment you. I studied
pre-law, you know, in case I decided to be a policewoman. Do you think
I should try to become one?"
"You'd cause a crime wave," Ray groaned. "Of men wanting you
to arrest them."
"Even if I did this to them?" Kate asked. She dripped more hot
wax on his cock.
Ray groaned. I sailed another lash into his ass and he winced
and shook his butt.
"Yeah, even if you did this," Ray admitted.
"Well, we have to get tougher then!" Kate said to me. "Go find
something to squeeze Mr. Ray's balls in, Kelly. We'll see if the
nutcracker will make him behave!"
"No," Ray gritted. I gave his tushy a final slash, admired the
mark, and then happily returned my whip to the wall. Rummaging around,
I found a small leather pouch that could be tied along the top as
tightly as one might wish. It looked like a bag for gold dust, but it
would hold the Ray Family Jewels instead!
Kate made Ray stand with a wider stance and I crouched down
underneath him and set to work. It was tough fitting his balls inside
that little pouch! He had very big balls. Finally, getting him all
suited up, I tied the top of the pouch as tight as I could. Ray groaned
and howled. Kate came round and checked my handiwork to make sure I
hadn't tied him too tightly. She loosened him just a bit.
"Very good, Kelly," Kate said to me. "Now we'll see if Mr. Ray
here can learn to be a good boy." She told me to get a penis whip. I
didn't know what that was but she explained that it was a small whip,
made just for whipping a man's dick into shape.
"They come in various brands of severity," Kate told me. "Some
are just a soft strip of leather, while others are wrapped cords, while
still others are almost inflexible, hardened in a vat of pure salt. Get
a medium one for him. We don't want to make him feel too awful. He
just needs a little correction."
I saluted her. We were having a blast. We were both totally
nude, our bikinis left scattered on the floor. Our hair was lovely and
our feet were encased in pretty shoes and we wore sexy earrings. Ray
was a hunk beyond a girl's wildest dreams, and he was letting us do
whatever we wanted with him. All our most childish fantasies we were
getting to play out on him. I saluted Kate, went to the wall where the
implements were, and came back with a small, slim whip.
"Go ahead, do him," Kate told me. I lashed him with a modest
stroke, afraid I might hurt him if I hit too hard. Then, judging his
response (holding back his feelings as usual), I hit him harder. I
wanted to see him shout and really respond to me! Soon I had him
flinching and begging at every stroke.
"Yes, just your penis, Ray, that's all we care about now," Kate
said to him. "If the Law concentrated more on men's penises, they'd
commit less crimes, don't you think?"
"I guess so," Ray groaned. She slapped his bottom and told me
to stop.
"Go get your Kool-Aid glass," she said to me. "It's time for
our big baby here to wet."
"Thanks," Ray said.
"Don't feel too special, honey," Kate said. "I just like the
idea of seeing stuff shoot out of your dick!"
I brought my empty glass and we both watched, mesmerized, as
Kate held the glass for Ray and he squirted his pee into it. When he
was done she had me get a kleenex and she squirted some Redi-Whip on his
pee hole and then wiped it off with the kleenex.
"There, that should keep you nice and fresh," Kate said to
Ray. "Lickably clean!" She put her mouth to him and sucked him some
more while I found a drain in a corner and emptied Ray's pee down it.
Then I sat my glass by the door. I didn't intend to drink out of it
again!
I glanced at the door. The key Kate had locked it with hung
from a brass ring, which she'd placed over a nail high up on the wall.
A child would never be able to reach it. I might just reach it, if I
stood up on my tip-toes. I could escape now, if I wished. Kate was
busy with Ray and he was, at the moment at least, pinned by his cock
between two boards. I should be going home soon. My mom might miss
me. Then again, she'd learnt not to ask when I slept over at a
'friend's' house. Always I pretended it was a girlfriend, and she
accepted that. But sometimes it was the house of a guy I'd met on the
beach, in my little bikini. Lots of times I just liked teasing. But
sometimes I'd let a guy take me home and, sometimes, I'd even let him
bed me. Often I just sucked him, and that made him happy, especially if
he was older than me and afraid of getting in trouble.
But in the dungeon there was a distinct possibility that we
would all go much farther. I knew that from staying with Sherry and
Jeff. The choice wouldn't be between sucking and fucking. I felt a
tremor of fear seize me as I realized I might lose complete control of
myself here, with Kate and Ray, two strangers I'd just met on the
beach. I could escape now, if I wished. I glanced again at Ray. He
was tall, broad. I watched as his buttocks tensed, then released, then
tensed again as Sherry blew him. His balls, cruelly held inside a pouch
I'd put on him, hung between his hairy legs. He wouldn't worry about
fucking a girl who was under-age. Or doing lots of other things to
her. He wouldn't settle for just a quick blow job.
And Kate, what was she really like? After all, there was
little doubt her uncle had been a major pervert. Imagine, a nursery
school that doubled as a dungeon! I had little doubt, looking at the
boxes of crayons interspersed with dildoes and packs of condoms, that
the children had done some of their lessons down here. Above the wall
where the whips hung was a strip of paper showing the alphabet. Hung
over the door was a row of paper gingerbread men, cut from construction
paper. And yet Kate had not even reported all this to the police!
Instead she'd decided to play down here. The children were due back on
Monday! Should I run out now, and call somebody? Well, I couldn't do
that; I didn't want the cops to come and find poor Ray with his dick
stuck between two boards. Yet, what would I have done, if I found
myself suddenly inheriting a beach house with a dungeon in it? Would I
go squealing to the police, and turn the whole house into a notorious
crime scene on the nightly news, or would I grab the nearest lifeguard
and do just what Kate was doing?
"It must be quite a job for you, keeping control of all those
people every day," Kate murmured to Ray. He flung his head back and I
watched the muscles of his back ripple as he fought down the need to
ejaculate. He was such a stud! Imagine surviving all he had, and still
not cuming. What a beautiful creature. I felt a sudden need to keep
him forever. I think Kate was thinking the same thing, for she glanced
at me over his cock as I circled back toward them. She wanted him
cuffed. I could tell. Her eyes met mine and I felt the same need she
did to make this man completely subservient to our feminine wiles and
our pussies.
I ran to the wall. My conscience screamed at me that I might
myself be tested just as Ray was being tested, that it might go too far,
that I might be hurt, but I grabbed the nearest pair of steel handcuffs
from the wall and darted over to my new friends.
Ray's forearm was huge. I took hold of it with my little
fingers, a spider latching onto a lion. I snapped on one of the cuffs.
He glanced down at me. He lifted his arm slightly, as if he might smack
me across the face for trying to make him my prisoner. But then, his
eyes glazed, Kate really giving him the works with her mouth and toungue
to make him have to fight every second to hold his seed, he looked
away. His butt tensed, he flung his head back, and held. Kate lifted
her mouth to check. A drooling line of her spit mixed with his pre-cum
hung between her mouth and his cockhead. She watched him a moment. No
sperm. He had survived yet another of her attacks. Yet, hanging
between his legs, was the biggest load of sperm you could possibly
imagine, held up tight against his body in the scrotum sac I'd tied on
him. What a man! Kate blew lightly upon his peehole to compliment him
for his valor. He could have cum so easily, letting himself go, being
selfish, but he kept himself whole and let us keep playing. Now as I
snuck around behind him I began to wonder if he was being selfish by
holding his sperm back. After all, Kate was working so hard. Yet she
got nothing but pre-cum for her efforts.
"Ray, you can actually cum if you want to, can't you?" I heard
her ask him in a teasing voice. I grabbed his other wrist and drew it
behind his tensed buttocks. They were bare, with bright lines across
them where I'd whipped him.
"I can cum like a fountain," Ray replied. He seemed not to
sense that I was about to make him our prisoner. "When I do cum, it
will be in your hair and all over your face, unless you can swallow real
fast. Before I got this lifeguard job I worked at a kiddie pool. The
girls used to come up to my lifeguard stand and blow me, but I had to be
careful, because they were only 9 or 10. So sometimes I couldn't cum at
all, even though they loved blowing me. So I learned to hold it back
real good."
CLICK! I managed to squeeze his arms close together enough to
lock them in to the handcuffs. What a fitting moment to capture him!
Here he was a pedophile, and we hadn't even known it!
"Ray, you're a pervert!" Kate shouted. She was as shocked as I
was.
"No I'm not," he answered with equanimity. "There's no
difference between you and a 10-year-old except that you're breasts are
grown and hers are just starting. Anyway, didn't you like lifeguards
when you were 10?"
"Well, I did," she said, and blushed a little. "And I won't
even tell you what I did to tease them. But I didn't BLOW them!"
"Girls grow up faster nowadays," Ray replied.
"I guess so, with a predator like you 'protecting' the girls at
a kiddie pool!" Kate said.
"It's a job... somebody's got to do it," Ray grinned.
Sherry stood up. She put a hand under her chin. She lifted
her other hand speculatively, a finger upraised, considering. I could
just see her as a policewoman, wondering what to do with a pervert she'd
nabbed.
"Well, Raymond, we are going to have to consider what to do
with you," she said. "Here you've confessed to the most evil things,
but fortunately we've got your penis stuck in a pillory, your balls
neatly tied up, and your hands, ah yes, handcuffed."
"Hey, how did that happen?" Ray asked. He struggled to get his
wrists out from behind his back but found they were permanently locked
over his lovely bare buttocks.
"I don't think any child molester has ever been better
positioned to pay for his crimes, do you, Kerry?" Kate asked me.
"Nope," I replied. We both broke into giggles. We really
couldn't care less about a bunch of 10-year-olds at a kiddie pool.
They'd be competing with us soon enough in daring bikinis. I regretted
that they'd gotten an early start, but who wouldn't want to blow Ray? I
gazed at his powerful body as he stood with his cock wedged in the
stocks. What a glorious man! All he had to do to get free of the
stocks was simply ejaculate. He'd feel great, and he could walk away.
But he'd stayed, let us torture him, and finally even let himself be
suckered into getting handcuffed. Now we did have him between a rock
and and hard place. Even if he shot his load, he still couldn't get the
cuffs off. And they were real police handcuffs too, with the exception
that they were lined with fur inside to provide our lover a little
comfort.
"He needs to feel a little humiliation at least for being a
child molester," Kate told me. "Let's hang our bikinis over his dick so
he's made to feel like a human clothesline!" We giggled again. We
trotted over to where we'd tossed our bikinis onto the floor and picked
them up.
"Yes, Ray, you're going to be made into a line of washing,"
Kate said as we hung our stringy little bras and panties over his dick.
He watched with mesmerized eyes. I imagine just the feel of the soft
drawstrings and bra cups against his penis made him tremble with lust.
I remembered how boys sometimes snuck into my mom's yard to catch a
glimpse of my own bikinis hanging out back on our clothesline. Kate
flicked her bra and watched it as it trembled atop Ray's penis. The
tiny cups brushed his shaft. I batted my panties. Their pencil-thin
drawstrings shivered. I feared they might slide down the shaft of his
cock and find a way to drop off.
"We need clothespins," I suggested.
"Yes, to keep our bikinis in place," Kate smiled. We had
wicked eyes. We looked up at Ray. He gritted his teeth and gazed at
our bikinis hanging from his huge cock. "You need to be punished
anyway, Ray, for molesting little girls," Kate added. Primly she rose
up and walked to the wall. She took down several pairs of wooden
clothespins. She walked back, letting her bare hips roll, glorying in
how Ray stared at her lovely pubis. Above her ribs her bosoms jostled
and swung, totally free, in sharp contrast to Ray's poor balls and
cock. She knelt down in front of him once more and judiciously began
applying the clothespins.
Ray gritted his teeth and said nothing. I thought he might
howl out, or protest, but he took his punishment like a man. Kate
pinned our bikinis and bras to his erection. She smiled up at him when
he was done. "I'm glad you've been bad, Ray," she admitted. "It's so
fun punishing you!"
"Loosen the ball bag," Ray said.
"What? Is the nutcracker suit too tight?" Kate laughed. Ray
nodded.
"Well, we don't believe in cruel and unusual punishment here in
the United States, just punishment," Kate admitted. Carefully she
reached between his legs and untied the leather sac that contained Ray's
balls. She opened it a little, then retied it. She touched the sac
underneath and lifted it slightly to heft his balls and feel their
movement. "There, darling, is that better?" she asked.
"A little bit," Ray said.
"Well, a little bit is all I had in mind," Kate replied. She
kissed his penis and then stood up. I stood up with her. We glanced at
each other. We were both naked, and just glancing at our tits we could
each see that the other was very excited. The dungeon seeemed full of
possibilites. Outside it was hot, but in here it was pleasantly cool.
Out on the beach girls were vying for guys, but in here we had a real
he-man to keep us busy, who NEEDED to have his genitals punished for
making little girls blow him. Well, we'd do our job to society and
satisfy ourselves in the bargain.
"We must take proper care of our prisoner," Kate said to me. I
nodded. I had no idea what she had planned, but it sounded fun. She
took my hand and led me over to a faucet near the floor. Beside it was
a wooden pail, and next to the pail was a bottle of Mr. Bubble. She
picked up the bottle, and squirted some of its soap into the pail. Then
she turned on the tap and put the bucket under it.
"There's no sponge and no washcloths," Kate admitted to me. I
smiled. We'd use our hands. "The water's very cold, Ray," she shouted
over her shoulder at him. He watched us as we knelt at the faucet.
"I don't need a bath," Ray replied.
"Dear, prisoners don't get to choose when they have a bath,"
Kate said.
When the pail was full Kate and I lugged it over to Ray. We
plopped it down next to him. He watched as we bent, our breasts
swinging, and soaped up our hands in the bucket. We lathered our hands
in the Mr. Bubble foam. Then, our hearts beating, we began to rub our
hands all over Ray.
Kate got busy on his chest. I got busy on his bottom. We
decided not to do his penis because we knew that the two of us,
lathering his dick, would make him shoot for sure. But all the rest of
him was fair game.
Ray groaned with pent-up passion as we washed him. We tried to
keep the foam off ourselves and out of our hair. We just wanted to
concentrate on him, to make him sparkling clean so that he would be a
model prisoner.
"My, such a powerful chest," Kate said admiringly. "Do you
work out a lot, Ray?" It was strange. We knew so little about each
other, yet here we were, all of us naked, playing and enjoying each
other.
"I work out every day," Ray replied. "I have to, to stay in
shape as a lifeguard. People's lives depend on me, you know."
"Oh, I'm sure those little 10-year-olds were in constant danger
of drowning in their baby pool," Kate laughed. Her bosoms shook as she
laughed and a bit of foam flew from her hands and landed on one of her
nipples. She bent her head down, tried to flick it off, but the foam on
her fingers just added more.
"A baby pool can be just as dangerous as the beach," Ray
replied.
"Oh yes, especially if a shark is the lifeguard!" I giggled. I
pinched his bottom. He grunted. He had an excellent tolerance for
pain. I ran my hands up his back. It spread out beneath my fingers,
hard and tanned. He was one buff dude! I was glad he was cuffed,
though. I wouldn't have dared tease him this much if he were loose,
especially about his little girlfriends. I ran my fingers down his
spine and palmed his bottom. Exploringly, I opened his hiney. I bent
down to look in his hole. I stuck my finger inside.
"Hey!" Ray roared.
"Your butthole must get clean too if you're a prisoner," I
said. "Anyway, you might stick something up it, so I must of course
inspect it," I added.
"The only things going up it are what YOU put up it," Ray
groused. He tried closing his ass cheeks but I fought him and managed
to wedge my finger inside him. He groped for my hair with his
handcuffed hands but I bobbed my head out of the way. With my finger I
began sawing in and out of his hole. "Yep, we need to get this hole of
yours clean as a whistle!" I said. He groaned and seemed to press his
loins against the pillory. Poor man! He had my finger up his ass and
my bikini hanging from his dick! Oh well, he deserved all this
punishment for being a pervert, in my opinion.
We slathered our hands all over Ray and finally ran out of
water. We took our bucket back to the faucet and filled it again.
Lugging it back to him, we splashed him down to get all the bubbles off
him.
"I'm cold," Ray complained.
"You're a prisoner, dear," Kate said. "You don't get hot
showers in a prison, least of all a dungeon!" Our bikinis got wet when
we splashed him but we didn't worry about it. In fact, carrying our
bucket back to the faucet once more, Kate suggested we do each other.
We found barrettes amongst the dildos lined up under the whips on the
wall and pinned up our hair.
"I'll wash you first," Kate told me. I thought she would
simply wet her hands and start bathing me but instead she first walked
me over to a suspension frame. "The water's so cold, you'll feel better
about it if you can't resist," she said. She lifted my wrists above my
head and snapped them into rubber cuffs. "Besides, Ray might want to
admire you while I bathe you," she added. I glanced at him. He stood
drinking in my figure. I was proud of it, and I stuck my young boobies
out at him. My nipples were desperately hard. Kate put a spreader bar
between my ankles and I didn't mind a bit as she opened my legs and
showed my pubis to Ray. I was hungry, and not for food. I smiled at
Kate. She grinned, then wet her hands in the bucket and began by
rubbing my breasts.
"Ohhh, your nipples are SO hard," she teased. I flinched and
bit my lip and threw my head back. It felt so good to have a pair of
hands tending to my teats. I really didn't care that they were a
woman's instead of a man's. I felt depraved. I thrust my hips at her
and hoped she'd scrub lower.
Kate's hands smoothed bubbles across my belly. "You've never
been pregnant?" she asked. I nodded my head no. She slapped my tummy.
"Well, neither have I, but there's always a first time, isn't there?"
she grinned. She placed a finger between my legs and felt for my spot.
"Ohhhhh!" I shouted.
"My, you're hungry," Kate observed. "Such a little hussy!
Here, little whore, does this feel good?" She rubbed my cunny and I
couldn't help but blush and puff out my cheeks and nod that it did.
"Well, you'll just have to wait your turn, because I intend to
go first!" Kate said reprovingly and slapped my bare bottom with her
hand. We both looked at Ray. He was watching us with haggard eyes.
His cock, despite being jammed between the boards and pinned with
clothespins, pumped itself at us. He flexed it and jabbed it and all
our little bikini things hanging down from his penis shook like washing
in the wind. My bra, which hadn't been pinned for some reason, fell to
the floor.
"Tch, they don't make clotheslines like they used to," Kate
observed. "Thank God," she added with a smile. She turned back to me
and quickly finished bathing me. She ran her hands up and down my legs,
and finally over my arms and my ass and my back. She palmed my face to
make me feel fresh. Fortunately my makeup was waterproof.
"Alright, now you do me," Kate said when she'd released me. I
strung her up for Ray's amusement and then set about washing her. I
started with her bosoms. "Yours are so nice and large," I said. I
cupped them and felt their weight.
"Yours will be just as big as mine when you're 20," Kate
smiled. She looked at my breasts. "You don't have to worry."
"Thanks," I replied. I scrubbed her nipples with my fingers,
making her swoon, and then did her belly button and her cunt. She
laughed and tried to close her legs when I rubbed her snatch. I hadn't
bothered to buckle her ankles into the spreader bar. Her legs kicked a
little but I forced her to open to me and she finally let me rub her
cunny as much as she pleased. I looked over my shoulder at Ray as he
watched me washing her snatch. "Yes Ray, she's nice and wet," I
teased. Kate gasped with pleasure. I wanted to keep rubbing her but I
moved on to her thighs. She seemed to regret my departure. She kept
her legs apart just in case I wanted to return. I didn't, though, I
wanted to get our baths over and done with. There seemed so much more
we could do, I didn't want to miss out on any of it!
We let our hair down when we were done with our bath and went
sashaying back over to Ray. He was absolutely desperate to cum. He
constantly strove with his hips to somehow burst the pillory. His dick
wiggled, despite our clothespins and bikinis, hoping to spurt. I'm sure
no child molester was ever tortured better than Ray!
"Should we really permit him to cum? He's been so bad!" Kate
asked me.
I put a finger to my lips. "I don't know. He should probably
be made to fuck ladies for the rest of his life to keep him from liking
little girls," I suggested. I had to put a hand to my cunt, the thought
was so exciting.
"Yes, he must be made to like and admire real women, by being
made to fuck US!" Kate agreed. "In the interests of Law and Order, of
course!"
"Of course!" I replied. She batted my hand away from my cunny.
"As Nudie Policewomen we must set the highest example," she
reminded me.
"Yes," I agreed. We were playing, pretending. I tried to
imagine myself in a policewoman's jacket. I couldn't imagine wearing a
skirt or pants right now, though. Not now. Just the jacket, perhaps.
Ray would supply my nightstick.
Our only problem was that we didn't have another child
molester. It was just Kate and I, Enforcers of the Law of the Pussy,
plus Mr. Ray. I looked at her and she looked at me. How could we
resolve who would ride his nightstick first? We drew closer. We wanted
to tease. Our breasts butted up against each other. Our nipples were
like thorns. I thrust my bush at her and she pushed hers at me. Our
tummies touched. Our fingers, at our sides, drew close and dueled. My
breath mingled with hers and hers mingled with mine. Our noses rubbed
together.
"You smell nice after your bath," Kate confided in me.
"Thanks," I replied.
"Hey, don't leave me out!" Ray blustered. We giggled at him.
"He's so hot... maybe we should warm up a little too," Kate
said to me.
"Okay," I replied. My mouth lisped the word. I was
compliant. I felt wanted, loved. She took my hand and led me over to
the wall. There was a plastic mat leaning there. She motioned to me to
take it and together we laid it out on the floor in front of Ray.
"Have you ever done 69?" Kate asked me. I shook my head no.
"It's pretty easy," she said. "One person lies down and the other
mounts them." She lay down on the mat, taking a little pillow from the
shelf first, which she placed under her head. Her knees were bent up
and she opened her thighs, showing me her bush. I stood over her. I
made to kneel.
"No, silly, you don't want to put your face over mine!" Kate
laughed. She pointed at her bush. "Put it down there. And I'll lick
yours."
"That's..." I gasped.
"Don't worry, I'm not a lesbian. Men like it," Kate assured
me. I glanced over my shoulder at Ray. He sensed I was a novice and
his hunger for breaking in new girls rose up within him.
"Do it," he commanded me.
"Ray, you're hardly in a position to tell me what to do," I
observed, putting a finger to my cheek.
"A prisoner's entitled to some entertainment and you got no
goddamn T.V. down here," Ray said. I smiled. I really did like him,
even if he was a pervert.
"Alright Ray, just this once," I said. "But please don't cum
while we're doing it. You might shoot stuff all over us, and I've just
had my bath." I settled onto the mat. It was weird, kneeling with my
cunny right over Kate's mouth and my face looking down at her bush.
Kate smoothed her hands over my thighs reassuringly and drew me closer
to her lips.
"Down girl," she advised. I let her pull my hips down toward
the mat. Of course before my hips reached the mat I felt her nose bump
against my bare crotch. Her breath caressed my twat. She parted me
with her fingers. I laughed.
"This is so silly!" I said, and instantly gasped as I felt her
tongue invade my slit.
"Noooo, please!" I begged, but I had to drop my own face down
to retaliate, I realized, or she'd soon have me making an orgasmic fool
of myself, all alone, in front of our pervert-friend Ray.
I licked at her snatch. It had a flavor of honey. She poked
her tongue deeper and I stabbed back. I giggled again. It was so
unreal, eating out a female with a man standing nearby, his pecker
caught between boards, his balls slung up in a sack. I think it was the
unreality of it that allowed me to fall into eating a woman. I began
feeding within her dell and she mouthed mine.
I gasped. I heard her gasp. We were two joined as one. Her
mouth was steady and moved gracefully, her tongue digging ever deeper.
I tried to be as attentive as she. Kate gripped my thighs again. Her
nails dug into my flesh but I was too busy feeling the pleasure of her
tongue in me and responding in kind to cry out. All else was lost.
Ray, his penis, his pent-up seed and his pent-up desire, his glorious
balls imprisoned in the sack I'd tied around them.
We orgasmed. We came almost simultaneously, Kate and I, and I
heard Ray moan with yearning somewhere, but I ignored him. I tongued
her more deeply and strove with my hips upon her face. Kate sensed that
I wanted to go again and she did too. We dueled in each other's slits
with our tongues. We climaxed again. We sought a third and found it.
I wanted to roll off her after my third orgasm but there was no
way to do it. I would fall on the hard stone floor. So, captive on the
mat, I remained above her and we tongued at each other's slits some
more. We came again, then again, and I was beginning to feel dry,
despite her moist mouth in me.
Reluctantly I rose up on my heels. It drove my cunny down
deeper onto her. I sighed, looked back and lifted my bottom. I saw
Kate's chin and then her nose and her eyes.
"Mmmm, that was fun," she admitted.
"Thanks," I said. She slapped my ass.
"Get off me, before we become lessies!" she laughed. With her
dew in my mouth I stood up, trembling with my latest release. She got
up after me and we hugged each other and gave each other a single kiss.
"You taste like me," Kate smiled.
"You do too," I smiled back. We separated but held hands to
keep ourselves steady. We were both still reeling from our many
orgasms. Such was not the case, however, with poor Ray. He really did
look like a punished prisoner now, his face grey and filled with want,
his chest drooping, his cock (unfortunately for him) sticking up like a
post.
"Poor baby, it's time for you to shoot," Kate told him. She
unpinned the clotheslines from his cock. She brushed away our bikini
things and we didn't even notice as they fell to the floor. God, he was
SO hard! I don't think I've ever seen such a hugely swollen cock. He
jabbed it at us, a look of desperation on his face, sure that we'd just
tease him some more and never really give him the milking he deserved.
"Alright," Kate said to me. "One of us has got to mount him. It's only
fair. He wants to shoot in a cunt and we must give even a prisoner some
conjugal visits."
"I want him!" I said. I snatched at his penis. I was a little
girl with no money in a store full of candy.
"If you have him, then you must be the prisoner when we play
down here again," Kate said to me. Her face was grave. I knew she
meant it. But I had my hands on Ray's cock and they refused to let go!
"Alright," I said simply. That was all the answer she
required. She took hold of my hips and positioned me in front of him so
that my dell could be easily pierced. I felt dry, but I knew he
couldn't last long. As soon as I had him well within me he'd fill me
with gobs of his wonderful semen. Sooner, if I wasn't careful. I
handled his dick as cautiously as I could. In his eyes I could see
there was no resistance left. One errant brush of a finger and he'd
loose all he had on my belly. But I wanted him inside me, not on me.
"Ready?" Kate asked me. I nodded. She helped me ease my hips
forward and I gasped as I felt Ray's cockhead bump my slit and then sink
within.
Ray howled. He was so happy! He urged himself forward,
despite his imprisonment. I was tight but he was very hard and very
blunt. Kate pushed on my bottom, urging me forward. I moved my hips
closer to the stocks and felt Ray pierce me even more deeply
"Ahhhhh!" I cried. Ray's voice rose to join mine. Kate shoved
me hard. I sunk down upon him and felt his manhood drive far up into my
womb.
With a triumphant shout Ray's seed burst inside me. His penis
jabbed, I fought back with Kate's hands at my bottom. Together he and I
rode, his pole in my cunny, Kate masterminding us both. Jets and jets
and more jets of sperm seemed to blast up within my womb. I moaned, I
swooned, Ray gritted his teeth and emptied himself in my softness.
When at last we were done Kate and I undid Ray from the
stocks. I could feel his juices sliding down my thighs as I worked. It
was a strange and wonderful feeling. Then we tripped upstairs, each of
us holding the other, and fell into bed.
Chapter Two
Ray was full again when we awakened. We lay in the moonlight,
letting it caress our bodies. We talked. Our hands played over each
other. Ray's cock stuck up like a flagpole, beckoning. Another trio
might have fallen at once to fucking, but Kate kept us hungry. She
liked playing, teasing, tempting. My body felt warm and soft. My hair
nestled about my face, silver-blonde in the moonlight, trailing down
over my breasts and my ribs. Ray asked me how many times I'd fucked.
"I'm not sure. Not often," I replied. And it was true. I was
still a little scared of sex. It's why I usually wound up blowing boys
I met on the beach. But somehow, with Kate, I felt liberated. I felt
she was in charge and I could try things under her tutelege without
feeling guilty. She reached across Ray's stomach and tugged at my pubic
hair.
"You might be pregnant now," she said.
"Do you have any morning after pills?" I asked.
"Yes," she answered.
"I've probably been fired from my lifeguard job for abandoning
my post," Ray said.
"Your post is right here, sir," Kate said. She tweaked his
cock with her fingers. We all laughed. I wanted, I knew she did too.
But the waiting was fun. I could feel Ray's seed on the insides of my
thighs. It was dry now. More was up in me.
"I like it here by the beach," Kate said. "It's much more fun
than New York! Let's go swimming!"
"Let me call my mom first," I asked. I told Kate the number
and she dialed it for me. There, in the darkness, the other two
sniggering beside me, I told my mom I was at a friend's house and
promised to do my homework. Then I hung up.
"Alright, little one, now let's hit the beach!" Kate said. We
rolled out of her big bed and went downstairs. In the dungeon we found
our bikinis and we put them back on. My top had got kicked aside under
something and I coudn't find it. I contented myself with just wearing
my panties. Ray, poor boy, had no suit at all. Kate and I decided it
would be fun to see if we could sneak him down to the waves with nothing
on.
"Try to lose your erection, big boy," Kate told him. She
looked down at his penis and laughed. It was obvious he wasn't going
anywhere, no matter what humiliation he faced if he got caught nude on
the beach. "Stay between us. I've got both pieces on and Kelly at
least has her panties. Maybe you won't be seen," Kate advised him. It
was better than nothing, I suppose, but since he was a head taller than
both of us it was doubtful that our little bodies could keep a big man
like him very well hidden.
"Or you can try wearing one of my uncle's suits," Kate
suggested.
"I don't want to wear a pervert's swimsuit," Ray replied.
"Well, he was quite fat anyhow, so I doubt you'd fit," Kate
replied. Our man was flat as a pancake and his stomach was separated
into nice little squares of muscle. Then, below that, sticking up from
his bush, his erection promised to find any suit, however big, too small
to contain it. Even his balls seemed giant-sized. They hung down a
little, swinging eagerly with his every lusty step.
We snuck out onto the beach. It was dark, but the moon
betrayed us. We knew we'd have to move quickly to avoid getting
caught. With Ray between Kate and myself, we made a dash down the
sand. Ray's big thing bobbed up and down between his legs. His balls
jangled like church bells, silently, but I was temptingly aware of them,
especially once when I fell a step behind and saw with glee how all his
equipment looked from the rear. His muscled ass pumped vigorously as he
ran. His thighs were powerful. Like a snake his dick bobbed up and
down, glimpsed between his legs, a big pulsing column of flesh that
promised much in the hours ahead.
My bosoms bounced on my chest. My nipples had sprouted and I
felt like a hedonist as I ran down the beach. Kate's breasts fell out
of her bra but she ignored them. We needed to get to the water to hide
Ray and his erection.
We reached the safety of the water. We splashed into the ocean
and submerged ourselves to our necks as quick as we could. There, under
the stars, we let our hands slip over each other's bodies. We had a
fetish for each other's loins and we did not deny ourselves. But we
didn't fuck. There were two girls, just one guy. Kate and I eyed each
other but agreed, tacitly, to save Ray for inside, where we could better
take turns with him. Ray savored our closeness and let us protect him.
He was our 'bare buns boy,' we told him gaily. I think he liked letting
girls handle him and tell him they loved him.
At last we stole back up the beach. We took advantage of a
passing cloud over the moon to make good our escape. Back inside, we
shared a quick shower together. Then Kate took us downstairs to the
kitchen and offered us some food.
We snacked with lust in our eyes. We all knew that as soon as
we'd fed ourselves we were going back down to the dungeon. Kate might
have to report it to the police on Monday. We didn't want to lose our
last chance to enjoy it. We gazed at each other, eating on our feet in
the kitchen, our bodies naked and fresh from the sea. We felt excited.
Ray's penis stuck up obscenely and Kate and I had nipples as hard as
coral.
When we locked ourselves in the dungeon after our meal Kate
turned and looked at me. She and I were dressed in earrings and heels,
makeup newly applied, both of us with birth control pills dissolving in
our tummies. Ray stood with his penis hard and ready.
"You know you agreed to be prisoner this time," Kate said to
me.
"I know," I gulped. I'd tried to forget, hoped she had. But
she hadn't.
"Come," she said, and delicately but firmly took my hand.
"There's an Ob-Gyn room in back, just for girls, to put them through
their paces." With me walking with wobbling knees, Ray following with a
big grin on his face, Kate led me to the rear of the dungeon. She
parted a curtain at the back and led me between its folds.
The sight that greeted me was an absolute shock. For a moment
I just stared speechless. Then, finally, welling up from somewhere, the
words "My God!" broke from my lips.
Set in the center of the room was a cushioned table. It was a
medical examination table for female patients. Bars, lowered at the
moment, could be raised to imprison the female within the table. They
ran the length of the table and allowed doctors to stand over the female
and operate on her without her rolling off the table. Nor could she sit
up and hang her legs over the table, once the bars were raised. And
climbing up over the bars, I saw, would be impossible, if the doctor
wished it, for they were connected to a wire and could be electrified.
A sign on the bars said "Warning: Electric Shock."
Sticking out from the base of the table were metal stirrups.
They were intended to imprison the feet of a female and spread her legs
so she could be examined at will. Above the table, chains with cuffs
hung down to lift the female's arms and stretch them out above her
head. Or her arms could be drawn behind her and latched to the wall,
which stood about a foot and a half behind the table. There was a
pillow for her head, but that small comfort was more than offset by the
other objects in the room.
A cattle prod lay on a low stool at the foot of the table. The
stool sat between the table's stirrups. A metallic chest full of
medical equipment sat on the floor beside the stool. It was open, and I
saw inside a host of dildos, different lengths and widths, some smooth
and some nubbed along their shafts. Tweezers and razors and a speculum
brooded within the chest. I walked forward, curious, frightened, and
peeked inside it. Down in its depths I spotted instruments to pierce
the clit or even to remove it. There was jewelry too, to hang within
the pierced lips of a girl's cunt.
Anxiously I let my eyes continue to wander around the room. I
wanted to throw up, I was so scared, but Kate held my hand and Ray stood
behind me, breathing regularly, easily. He was not to be tested in
here, the bastard!
A Raggedy-Ann doll lay lost on the floor. A picture of a
clown's face was hung on the wall. I saw a nightstand near the head of
the medical table and on its surface lay an assortment of condoms and
creams and ointments, all new and unused, ready and waiting for my exam.
Above the bed hung rubber tubing connected to two suction
cups. I saw that steel casings could be lowered to the surface of the
table and attached to, what?
"It's a milking machine, dear," Kate explained to me. It took
me a minute to figure it out when I first saw it. "The suction cups fit
to your nipples and then the casings descend and close around your
breasts and suck them up inside the machine and pump them. If you've
got any milk to give, it'll get it, I assure you!"
I lifted a hand and ran it along the tubing that ran to one of
the nipple-sized suction cups. "How do you know it works?" I asked in a
trembling voice.
"Don't ask," Kate breathed. I looked at her bosoms. She
blushed.
Hanging near the stirrup-end of the table, more tubing hung
down. I saw that it was connected to an empty bag hanging above the bed
that read, "Enema waste products." Beside that bag was one that was
full. "Enema contents," it said.
I clapped my free hand to my forehead. There was so much! I
spied nipple clamps, needles, a bridle and two types of gags, one with a
ball and one with a penis, blindfolds, paddles, whips, and,
incongruously, Baby Oil and Baby Powder.
Ray approached me from behind and let his penis butt up against
the furrow of my bottom. His cockhead wedged rudely within my cheeks
and I knew I was utterly at his disposal. Yet there was no force, not
yet. Kate held my hand but otherwise I was still in possession of
myself.
My breasts felt heavy on my chest, as if milk filled them and
wished to sprout through my nipples. My tummy moved gently with my
breathing. My breasts wobbled a little with each of my sighs.
"You must be opened dear. Completely," Kate said to me. She
squeezed my hand. I bit my lip. What did she mean by that?
"I-I don't want to be opened," I murmured. My voice was quiet
as a church mouse's. As I spoke I could feel Ray's cockhead stabbing
deeper between the cheeks of my pumpkin and I knew it was already too
late. Kate lifted a hand and flicked one of my nipples.
"Please don't resist. It will only make it more difficult for
you," Kate sighed. Her voice was melodious, not demanding or rough, but
there was an inexplicable firmness to it. As dark as the hair which
tumbled down round her face and over her shoulders.
Ray's hands came to my waist and gripped me tightly. "Get on
the bed," he said gruffly. He found my hole with his cockhead and made
me wince as he jabbed at it with his hugeness.
"Let her," Kate said to Ray. With her eyes she forced him to
unhand me. But he did not take his dick out of my ass.
I stepped forward, lifting my bottom off Ray's pecker. Kate
let go of my hand. I walked with hesitent steps to the side of the
table. I turned, faced her, Ray, let my bottom bump up against the
table's edge. With a shrug, necessary to lift my bottom, I hoisted
myself up onto the table. It had a paper covering pulled down over its
plastic surface and I felt the paper against my bare bottom. I lifted
my knees and watched, as if from afar, as my legs drew themselves up
onto the table.
I settled back. The back of my head found the pillow and
rested upon it. Modestly I kept my legs together. I gazed down at my
toes, clasped within my high heels. I placed my hands by my sides. I
breathed. I felt my breasts rise and fall on my chest. My tummy
shivered, became concave, I could feel my ribs sticking up and, below
them, the bones of my outcurving hips.
"Very good, dear," Kate said. She plucked a nurse's cap from
the nightstand and fitted it to her head. Then, walking to the base of
the table, she fitted my feet into the stirrups. Ray hefted up the bars
along the sides of the table, imprisoning me.
I felt open. My legs were apart now, my feet bound, gently,
with leather cords, into the stirrups. I put a finger to my mouth and
sucked it. Kate took both my hands, turned them palm upwards, and drew
them back over my head. I felt my ribs and my breasts rise and she
buckled them into restraints fixed on the wall.
I was theirs. I could do nothing. Kate took a cloth gag and
bound it over my lips. When she was done she kissed my nose. I stared
up at the ceiling. I saw a plastic toy hanging there, for babies to bat
at, hung with plastic fishes and gingerbread men and flowers. It was
too high to reach, though, and my hands were tied. I guessed it could
be lowered if the doctor wished.
Kate bent over me and licked my nipples. I whimpered. I
turned my head and saw her tummy pressing against the metal bars of my
table-bed.
"I have to wet your nipples to attach the suction cups of the
milking machine," Kate told me.
"I don't want to be milked," I said, but my gag made my words
inaudible.
Ray sat himself on the stool between my legs and busied himself
with my cunt. I felt his fingers pry me open and intrude inside. He
spread a paste inside my cunt lips and I jerked as I felt it burn.
"It won't hurt you," Kate smiled, nuzzling and suckling my
breasts. "I think its just Colgate Winterfresh toothpaste," she
giggled. But it burned all the same, and I whimpered and cried within
my gag and bucked my hips. To soothe me Ray licked in my cunt until it
was all gone.
The milking machine was lowered to my breasts as Ray found new
ways to torture my clit and my cunt. He gave me a pap smear and used
the speculum to peer up inside me, all the while brushing my clit with
his thumb. He sprinkled hot chili powder on my clit, making me howl.
He tested my size with dildoes of increasing size, forcing them farther
and farther up within me. Kate, meanwhile, put suction cups to my
nipples, fitted the steel casings of the milk machine around my breasts,
and then turned it on.
I was wrenched upward as the machine pulled on my breasts as if
they were gourds. I felt crushed and held and suctioned within the
machine's grip. Simultaneously the little pads fixed to my nipples
began to suck upon them like babie's mouths, while delivering little
electric shocks to them. But that was only the half of it. Down below,
as the machine started milking my breasts, Ray rudely stuck the biggest
dildo he could find up my cunt and turned it on.
It was the first time I'd ever felt an electric dildo in my
cunny. It jolted me to a height of fear and then began jabbing on its
own deep inside me, as if its upper half could work alone, inserting
itself and then drawing a little back, then jamming up higher. Ray,
meanwhile, pressed it within me as much as my cunt would allow.
Kate slapped my tummy. She smiled down at me. The pressure on
my breasts was rhythmic now, fondling, holding, clasping and suckling
them, making them feel as if they were caught in a wonderful vise that
would never let go. I felt like a cow, being milked and inseminated all
at once.
Kate walked to the end of the table and checked my wrist
restraints. They were secure. I had not found any way to wriggle free
of them. Then she bent, kissed my nose, and went to the opposite end of
the table. She raised each of my stirrups so that they stuck up at an
angle. I felt my cheeks on the underside of my bottom exposed. Sure
enough, Ray used the opportunity to begin intruding things into my ass.
I felt like some experimental animal as he and Kate played with dildos
in my two holes, my mouth gagged, my breasts constantly, endlessly
suctioned as if they were udders.
When Kate grew bored with helping Ray she went to the wall and
took down a whip. Methodically, touching herself as she did it, she
began beating my poor tummy. I jerked, I cried out. Ray ordered me to
lie still and warned I might be injured if I didn't, with him poking
things in my womb. I tried to comply but there was little hope of
that! Devilishly he kept rubbing new salves on my clitty meant to
agonize and arouse it.
Within my bonds I began to build toward an orgasm. Ray heeded
my distress and played upon it. He found ever new ways to tease my
clit, while sticking bigger and bigger things up inside my vagina and my
bottomhole.
Suddenly I climaxed. Kate flicked a switch on the milking
machine and it delivered stronger shocks to my nipples. I rode out my
orgasm with the milking machine working my teats and Ray teasing me
through every rippling wrench of my hips. Kate kept beating my tummy,
lightly marking me with every stroke of the switch.
I was released. I lay upon the table in a daze. My orgasm
drizzled away. I felt wet between my legs. I felt violated. Kate and
Ray smiled down at me, all the evil things taken away, just me, staring
up at them, still wearing my gag but nothing else. Except my heels, of
course, to make me look pretty.
They reached down and I thought they would help me up but
instead they rolled me over. I was still trapped within the twin rails
of the table. They were not electrified, but a mere flick of a switch
could make them so.
"Kneel up, darling," Kate urged. I could not believe my ears.
But she slapped my fanny and, fearing worse, I stuck up my bottom. My
knees slid up under my belly and I lifted it so that my heinie was
rudely pushed into the air.
Ray let me keep my knees together but he put a spreader bar
between my ankles. Kate, meanwhile, pulled my thumb from my mouth,
where I'd hoped to suck it, and tied my hands together under my face.
I buried my nose in my pillow. I did not want to see what they
were preparing to do to me. I knew it would be horrid. I felt Kate
blow on my bottom and then lick, once, between my cheeks. Then there
was a moment of waiting, as I heard an enema bag swung over me, its
contents sloshing, and its hose unhooked.
With the bag hanging over my bottom, as I suspected, not
looking, quiet in my pillow, I felt long nails part my ass cheeks.
Kate's tongue intruded again, and this time it was on a mission. She
found my hole and licked it. Then, when I was wet with her saliva, she
put vaseline on her finger and soothed it into my hole.
A jab made me arch my head up from my pillow. My gag silenced
a howl as a nozzle rudely pushed its way into my anus.
"Hold still, dear, don't waggle your bottom about like a
hussy," Kate told me. She shoved the nozzle deeper into my hiney-hole
and I heard Ray announce that he'd unclipped the enema bag.
A liquid rushed into my bottoms. I gasped. It filled me up
fast. It was more than sperm ever could do. It filled me to the brim
and I begged, through my gag, for them to stop the flow. After another
minute they did so. I could barely move, I was so full. They laughed.
Kate offered Ray a cookie. They stood watching me a few minutes. She
stroked his penis. It was hard and ready.
The enema tube was detached from the full bag, which was now
empty, and attached to a bag which had been hooked down beneath the
table. It was the waste bag, and I prayed they'd let me release my
bowels into it, and fast.
I heard Ray say he was removing a clip and suddenly all the
fullness inside me began to rush out.
"She should have no problem taking me up her ass, now that
she's had all that liquid to expand her," Ray laughed. Kate laughed
with him and began greasing his dick with the vaseline. No sooner was I
rid of the dastardly enema than Ray presented me with himself. I felt
his hardness sink into my fanny and I gasped and cried and begged to be
let up. He would have nothing of it. He jerked within me, going
deeper, then deeper still. I found later that he'd mounted a footstool
just to be the right height to fuck my ass as I knelt on the table. He
urged my hips toward him. I was not tied to the wall now and he was
able to drag me, with my hands tied beneath my face, as far down the
table as he wished.
I began to cry. Ray paid no attention. He reamed me with his
hardness and I felt like a flower being opened by some rude, ruthless
child. Kate stood beside him, slapping his ass with her hand,
encouraging him, and, to a shout of disapproval from Ray, even inquiring
herself in his hole with her finger.
We made love there, in that strange room that took "Playing
Doctor" to its ultimate perversion. Ray fucked me on the table and Kate
finger-fucked him in his ass. When he'd cum I was permitted to rest and
he laid her down on the floor and reamed her cunt with his mouth.
Dazed, aching everywhere, I was led out at last from the
horrible Ob-Gyn room. I'd survived, but I wondered about the nursery
school girls. Had they been given 'free' physicals in there? The very
thought of some man, no doctor but only a pervert, exploring their
deepest secrets in there made me shiver. Holding my hands Ray and Kate
took me upstairs. They wiped my bottom and we tumbled into bed and
slept like exhausted rabbits. As I drifted off to sleep I saw myself,
in a pinafore dress, holding a lollipop, being led into the exam room by
a pervert. I pledged to myself that I'd report this evil dungeon to the
police as soon as we'd finished. But, in my dreams, I felt a penis
intruding between the cheeks of my fanny, and I knew we weren't finished
just yet.
Chapter Three
It was all my mom's fault. When I was 16, she insisted I get a
job. She said she was tired of me just playing on the beach. My grades
had dropped from a little too much partying. I think she thought I was
up to more than I actually was. But what was I going to say: 'Don't
worry, mom, I just blow the guys I like, I don't bed them'?
I'd had fun at Kate's, I must admit. I think I walked around
in a daze for about a month after that weekend at her place. She
decided to sell it, and moved back to New York. There were too many
stories hidden down there for her to play in that preschool dungeon
guilt-free.
I went back to teasing guys. I loved to make them lust after
me and then leave them with nothing; yearning for me, desperate, jerking
themselves off someplace as they wished they could have me. It was
especially fun sometimes to make a hunky guy drop dead over me. After
all, what good is it knowing a nerd is creaming his pants for you? But
a hunk is another matter. To think that a cute guy who deserves you is
left with blue balls and sperm that just HAS to cum out, but can't, but
MUST; that is wickedly fun. Unfair, perhaps, but fun all the same.
Sex just didn't seem to sizzle after playing in Jeff and
Sherry's canyon retreat, and at Kate's. Everything was so heightened
there, so intense, so immediate. I think I missed the challenge of a
dungeon. To be commanded, to know you have to obey. In real life I was
swamped with choices. I could diss cute guys, or not. I got invited to
teen parties where we danced, or just got drunk. There was freedom but
there was boredom too. Pearl Jam on 10 is only so interesting. Beavis
and Butthead might be content to re-run their lives every day, watching
the same old videos, but I got annoyed with it all.
So when mom said I just HAD to get a job, well, I wasn't really
bothered by it. I imagined I'd wind up in a boutique near the beach
selling cosmetics or trinkets or something but, well, what could you
expect as a teenager? I opened the paper to look for some job like
that, but for some reason my eyes were drawn to the Secretary page. I
don't know why. I can't type. I'm a terrible speller. Even my name,
Kelly, I sometimes spell Kellie, or Kellee, just to have fun. But I saw
an ad that said, "Secretary Desired: No Skills Required." Somehow the
way it was phrased, you know? It seemed tantalizing. Who could
possibly want a secretary who didn't know how to do anything?
I made an appointment over the phone. Then I had to buy
clothes: you can't get a secretary's job wearing ass-high cutoffs! (At
least I don't think you can.) I bought a prim waist-length jacket and a
white blouse with a neckerchief. I also picked up some nice black
stockings and silvery heels. The skirt, I must admit, was too short.
But I felt daring. I bought a string of pearls to try to compensate.
All businesswomen, I think, wear pearls. It makes them look proper but
elegant. Then I put my Hello Kitty pencil in my jacket pocket and went
off to see my new boss. (Well, I promised myself I'd be successful; I
practise the Power of Positive Thinking!)
As I walked into the lobby of the building in downtown L.A. I
was on pins and needles. The floor tiles echoed my footsteps and I felt
like everyone looked up to watch me pass. I tugged nervously on the hem
of my jacket. It hung down a little lower than my miniskirt and I was
grateful that it could cover me where my skirt couldn't! I took an
elevator upstairs to the 11th floor. The bellboy in the elevator made
eyes at me. I pretended not to notice. He was pretty cute but I was on
a mission: to become a working woman. Hopefully they'd teach me how to
type at this place.
I was let into Suite 1117 by a woman. She looked lovely, and
seemed to be in her mid-twenties. She had me sit down in a little
anteroom outside the boss's office and she asked if I'd like some
coffee. I swallowed nervously, said 'yes.'
"Is this your first job?" she asked politely. I nodded that it
was. In fact, I admitted, it was my first job interview. She smiled.
"I think you'll like Brent," she said. She handed me my coffee. It was
hot. I had to wait to let it cool before I could drink it.
I was just starting to sip my coffee when the woman tending to
me told me it was time to go in and see Brent. Another woman had just
left; twenty-something, beautiful, with long legs and a composed
demeanor. I felt a sudden rush of anxiety again. But somehow I
gathered myself together and walked into Brent's office: my first job
interview!
"Can you type?" he asked. He was big and strong and looked
like he worked out a lot. I judged he was about 30. He suit seemed
barely able to contain him. He sat behind a big desk but he had me pull
a chair close so we could sit facing each other without the desk between
us. His assistant helped me move the chair.
"How good is your spelling?" Brent asked. I admitted it was
pretty poor.
"How are your grades at school?" Brent inquired. I gulped and,
figuring all hope was lost and I may as well be truthful, admitted they
were bad.
Brent straightened up. He shuffled some papers. I braced
myself for the 'thank you, we'll call if we need you' dismissal. The
thing they always say on T.V. when the show's about a woman who nobody
wants to hire. Because she's black, or poor, or got fired from her last
job for union organizing. I wondered why I'd even bothered to come.
"I'll be honest with you," Brent said. He looked at me and his
eyes were unexpectedly gentle. Was he going to talk down to me? 'Stay
in school, girl, study hard and learn to spell your name,' I could hear
rising up from his chest. So when the words broke from his lips I was
stunned. "I'm not really looking to hire a secretary. I'm looking to
hire a love slave. Would you like to accept the position?"
I didn't say anything for a moment. My throat was
constricted. Somewhere on my lap my hands began to shake. "I'll have
to ask my mom," was all I finally manged to say.
Brent looked at me more closely. Despite my nervousness I
actually found myself worrying that his bulging arms and shoulders would
rip his nice suit. Couldn't he at least take his jacket off? The poor
thing seemed about to burst at the seams. I felt a sudden urge to drop
my eyes to his crotch to see if his pants were equally challenged.
"I'm only at this location for today," Brent said. "Obviously,
hiring a teenage girl to be my love slave isn't the most popular thing
to do, even in L.A. So you'll have to decide right now."
I gazed at him. Our eyes seemed to merge. I felt myself
breathing. My breasts were held within a gossamer bra. It offered no
support, but at 16 I didn't need any. And that's why he wanted me,
wasn't it? I let myself drink in his frame and his powerful arms and
shoulders. His face was polite, discreet, but underneath it was like
hardened steel.
I tugged on my skirt, pulling it down as far on my thighs as I
could. "Okay," I said.
"Our plane leaves in an hour. We'll have to go to the airport
now," Brent told me. He stood up. He offered me his arm.
"So soon?" I asked meekly. I was a mouse.
"I wouldn't want you to change your mind," he smiled. He
towered over me, grinning down. I lifted an arm, to ward him off? I
caught his sleeve with my hand. He drew me up.
When I was standing he lifted my chin with his finger and
looked at me. My eyes raised to his. I felt bold as I let my eyes
clash with his and then, quite suddenly, he kissed me. I felt his hand
clasp my back and then sink lower. My skirt was in the way. He lifted
it. He palmed my bottom with his hand. I wore cashmere panties, thin
as rice paper.
"DON'T!" I squeaked as his finger probed into the stretchy seat
of my undies, prying into the crack of my ass.
"You mustn't say 'don't,'" he replied. I felt my throat
constrict. He kissed me hard.
Suddenly there was a knock at the door and we were apart; just
standing, it seemed, though I was blushing a little and my hair, so
perfectly coiffed and piled atop my head, had become a little mussed.
He was breathing hard. I dropped my eyes and inadvertently looked at
his crotch. I saw a tent there, trying to break open his zipper.
"Mr. Carson?" the female who'd let me in asked. She opened the
door to his office, looked in. "A modeling agency wants to send several
applicants over. Would you like me to make appointments for them?"
Brent cleared his throat. "No," he said. "That won't be
necessary."
"Alright," his secretary replied. She closed the door. I
looked at Brent with renewed admiration.
"Do you really want to hire me?" I asked him. I lifted a hand
and tried to fix my hair.
"Yes, I want to... hire you," Brent answered. His voice was
commanding. He seemed to shiver for a moment with passion and then he
looked abruptly away, picked up some papers on his desk. "We must go at
once," he said.
"I'll have to call my mom," I replied.
"On the plane," Brent replied. "It's noisy and the connection
won't be the best. It's expensive, too, so she won't, in the end,
expect you to talk for long." He looked at me again. "Is there anyone
else you need to placate?"
I glanced down at my shoes. "No," I said. "I just live with
my mom. She said I should get a job because I party too much."
Brent laughed. He pulled an expensive greeting card from
amidst his papers and handed it to me. "Here, fill this out," he said.
"We'll mail it to your mom at the airport. Tell her you're taking a
five day trip for Genovese Diamond Co. and you're to be interviewed in
Bolivia."
"Interviewed?" I asked. He gave me a business card with the
face of a kindly old woman on it. It said 'proprietor' under her
photograph.
"Yes, interviewed," Brent said. "Your mom would never approve
if you were simply hired and spirited away, but she'll probably accept
the fact that we flew you down to our headquarters to interview you.
After all, she told you to get interviewed, didn't she?"
"Yes," I admitted. I sat down with the card and filled it
out. Brent gave me a check for $2,000 to put into the envelope with the
card. It was a very proper-looking check, from the Genovese Diamond
Co. "Is there really a Genovese Diamond Co." I asked him.
"Of course not. But the check will cash," Brent said.
"What line of business are you in?" I asked him. I licked the
envelope as I spoke. He gazed at my tongue.
"I'm just a rich playboy," he smiled. Neatly I pasted the back
of the envelope down with my hands.
"You should be put in jail for hiring someone like me to be
your love slave," I said. I felt a sense of pride and power as I
spoke. I was a play policewoman again at Kate's.
"I should be shot, I'm sure," Brent said. He made me stand and
he took my arm. We walked out of his office. "Cancel all my other
appointments," Brent told his secretary. And then it was just the two
of us, alone, in the hall. We walked to the elevator and he pushed the
button for us. When the car arrived the bellboy looked disappointed.
Yes, I'd found someone cuter than him, and much wealthier, and more
powerfully built, and... more demanding? Yes, I guessed that was true
too. More demanding.
We made a quick stop at a photographer's and Brent got me fake
I.D. and a fake Visa and Passport. I looked cute in my photo, with my
Hello Kitty pencil sticking up, my hair repaired but just a little
askew, as if I were going someplace in a hurry, and my eyes wide, with
extra makeup on them, to make me look older. Brent kept my passport for
me. He said I wouldn't need anything myself; he'd provide everything I
required.
We were soon settled into First Class on a 747. The
stewardesses were nice; they didn't pry like I feared they might. I
think they mistook Brent for my father. Either that or he was just too
handsome for them to pepper with questions. We were treated just like
any other couple. I felt unusually mature. Just think: if my mom
hadn't made me get a job I'd be on the beach trying to make some boy
have wet dreams. Instead I was accompanying a very wealthy playboy, a
man of the world, and he was taking complete care of me. The stewardess
offered me champagne and I happily accepted.
Mom wasn't home when I called. Breathing a sigh of relief, I
left a message on her answering machine. Fortunately I didn't have a
father. I've known some girls who've met really nice guys only to have
Dad decide he didn't like them. Well, I didn't have that problem. I'd
always wished for a father who lived with me and mom but, really, at age
16 it was just too late. So a quick message to mom solved all my
problems, with a card in her mailbox soon after. As I hung up the phone
on the plane I felt giddy and queasy at the same time. I was free! But
my new love was not just another boy who'd happily settle for a quick
blow. He was possessive. And he had my I.D.s. All I had was my Hello
Kitty pencil and my purse with my makeup and bubblegum in it. I took a
deep breath, calmed myself, and then walked back to my seat. He sat on
the outside, I sat by the window. He let me pick my way past him and
when I sat down again he looked at me.
"Did you call your mom?" he asked.
"She wasn't home," I answered.
"Fine," he replied. He went back to reading his magazine. I
looked out the window and watched the clouds floating by beneath us.
They looked happy. I felt a happy tenseness inside myself and didn't
know whether I was doing the right thing or the wrong thing. But then,
I like that. It makes me hold my breath and contemplate and worry a
little. And when, well, when whatever happens happens, it blows my
mind.
The flight cruised on. They had us draw the shades so we could
watch a movie. The film was boring, but in the darkness Brent and I
necked. I was really getting to like him now. At the airport, despite
the high prices, he'd bought me a fur coat. It hung in the closet at
the rear of First Class at the moment, but I couldn't stop thinking
about it. Imagine, my very own fur! I let Brent grope my breasts and I
found the tent in his pants and caressed it. We were really getting hot
and heavy as the film wound on through some boring plot about space
aliens. 'We have come to conquer earth.' Yeah, right. Well, I'd come
to serve man. My man, Brent. Whenever a stewardess passed we had to
stop. After all, they might be thinking he was my father. We didn't
want to look improper!
Brent had me pretty high in all my erogenous zones when he drew
a pair of police handcuffs from his inner jacket pocket. They were
metal; suddenly I understood why I saw him passing money to the guard at
the metal detector. I bit my lip and watched as he took hold of my
arms, drawing them back behind me, the handcuffs lying for the moment on
my thigh; open, unlocked. When he had my wrists behind my back he
locked his handcuffs on them.
"Sit back, don't let anyone see," Brent told me. We kissed
some more. I was feeling really hot now. It was amazing to be sitting
there, wearing my prim business suit, in First Class, the stewardesses
breezing by now and then, but with my hands tightly locked behind me.
Brent had a new surprise in store for me a few minutes later.
"Lift up your bottom," he told me. I obeyed. He reached inside my
skirt, someplace he'd not gone before. He did it quite frankly, without
asking. He grabbed the crotch of my panties. He drew them down my legs
and, when he'd got them past my heels, he put them inside his coat
pocket where the handcuffs had been just a little earlier.
"You're wicked," I said to him. It was one thing for him to
feel my bottom in his office and grope my breasts on the plane, but to
actually take off my panties? I wanted to make him put them back on but
I didn't want to betray our love to the stews.
"You haven't seen wicked yet," Brent grinned. From someplace
in his jacket he drew out an ostrich feather. It was very delicate and
fluffy at the end. He lifted up the front of my dress. I let out a
little gasp as he introduced it between my legs and slid it up to touch
my bare cunny.
"Don't cry out," he warned me.
"I won't," I whimpered. I didn't want to get us in trouble. I
bit my lip and stifled a moan as he gently teased my clit with the
feather. Up and down, up and down it went, then round, and up and down
and round again. I was going wild!
A stewardess approached. He slid the feather out and dangled
it in the darkness below my knees. I gasped. She looked in on us.
"Can I get you anything?" she asked politely.
"Not now," Brent replied, a little annoyed.
"Sorry to bother you," she answered, and drifted away.
Brent picked up the feather again. He slid it back inside my
dress.
"Don't," I begged, but I felt the feather touch me again as I
spoke, right where my legs met, where my cunny dwelled in all its
girlish ambivalence.
"You're not permitted to say 'Don't,'" Brent reminded me. I
felt like screaming out to betray him but I kept my lips pressed
together. I wanted, even as he made me feel feelings I knew were
immoral, that could get us both in trouble (him especially!), I felt an
urgency. The binding of my wrists behind me threw my breasts out. I
felt my nipples standing up inside my bra. Why, oh why, had I let this
man, twice my age, steal me away? I didn't know. All I knew was I
liked him better than boys. They were fun too but he was, well,
awesome. No boy would pay to fly me first class and then lock up my
hands and make me cum on a feather. But did he love me? I wanted to
look at him but the feather between my legs was so intense... I had to
fight hard not to scream. Despite his ruthlessness he seemed to judge
my every breath. Just as I toppled on the brink of crying out he drew
the feather slightly back. I gasped, my eyelashes fluttered. He waited
for my crisis to subside. And then, insidiously, he delved into me with
the feather again. We played like that seemingly for hours, though
probably no more than five minutes passed. I was only 16. Too much of
it and I would surely have blurted out my passion, lost my senses, gone
babbling down the aisle, perhaps, and confessed everything to the flight
attendants.
The plane descended into the clouds. The movie was over.
Brent's feather was put away. He buckled my seatbelt over my lap. My
hands were still cuffed behind me. He'd fed me my in-flight dinner
himself, with his hand, stopping when a stewardess approached so our
intimacy would not be noticed. My drinks, too, he put to my lips
himself. He made me drink more than I wanted, insisting I drink it
all. I couldn't refuse; I didn't want to spill anything onto my
blouse. I wasn't allowed to pee after he cuffed me. As the plane
descended I found myself wriggling in my seat.
When we left the airplane I was wearing my fur coat again, just
as I had when we boarded. But this time I had my hands secretly cuffed
behind me, inside the coat. And my panties were gone. And I had to pee
pretty badly. Brent had taken control of me, there was no escaping
that. He even carried my purse for me. The stewardesses didn't
notice. They thought he was merely being a gentleman. All was
concealed, thanks to my fur. It had proved a wise purchase for a man as
decadent as Brent.
We travelled by airport limo a short distance to a small villa
in the city of Caracus. We were in Venezuela. I could smell the scents
of the Carribean sea as we stepped out of the car. Brent bustled me up
to the front door of the villa, passing through an iron gate hinged to a
tall concrete wall. A woman answered, we were let in quickly.
Brent took off my fur. The woman, dressed in a pantsuit and
vest, showed no emotion at seeing me handcuffed. She was a brunette,
perhaps 23, with tanned skin and lovely hair that was pinned up
seemingly for the sake of efficiency. Her eyes possessed a cold
diffidence, almost a tired look, jaded. "Come," she said, and crooked a
finger at me. I followed. My hips rolled more than they should have as
I followed her. I needed to pee badly and there was no concealing it
anymore. She led me into a living room where two couples stood
chatting. They were holding drinks, wearing business clothes. They
looked at me with little emotion. They were as jaded as the woman who'd
brought me to them.
"I-" I began, wondering if I dared to speak to any of them of
my need.
"Yes?" the woman who'd led me in asked. Her eyes were
expectant. I felt my throat constrict. I had to pee so badly! My eyes
bulged. My cheeks puffed.
Brent entered the room behind me. I turned to him.
"Tell Jasmine if you wish anything," Brent said with eyes that
seemed suddenly hard. I looked at the woman who'd brought me into the
living room. From the corner of my eye a woman, waiting perhaps for me
to speak, plucked a little cream-topped cracker from a tray on a piano
and put it in her mouth and ate it. She sucked her finger a moment to
lick off some cream that had smeared onto her fingertip.
"I-I have to pee!" I blurted suddenly to Jasmine. The others
laughed.
"Well, why didn't you say so? All the necessary accomodations
are provided here," Jasmine said with a smile. She walked to the piano,
reached underneath it, and took out a low, broad urn. It was made of
fired clay. She placed it down on the rug. "Step over it," Jasmine
urged me, coming round behind me and pushing me forward. I found myself
standing with my legs apart over the urn. She lifted the tail of my
jacket and matter-of-factly unzipped the back of my miniskirt. It
skittered down my legs. She lifted my feet, one by one, and removed
it. I gazed at the other guests. I'd just arrived, yet I was already
naked below my waist! My knees trembled. How silly I must have looked,
standing there, bare-legged, showing my bush.
"Kneel," Jasmine said. "Kneel down over the pot and release
your pee." I trembled into a squat. Gently she held me from behind to
guide me as I lowered myself. With the guests watching, I suddenly
released my urine into the pot. I heard it hit the clay and then
listened as the pot slowly filled. Everyone listened. The room was
silent, all eyes on me, I unable to hide anything at all.
My very public private duty complete, Jasmine helped me stand
up again. Brent came up behind me and unlocked my handcuffs. I rubbed
my wrists. The woman who was eating the cream-topped crackers offered
me some. Another woman put a drink in my hands. They surrounded me,
seemed not the least abashed that they'd just seen me pee, or that I was
standing bare-hipped in their midst, wearing only my blouse, my jacket,
and (though they hardly counted for anything) my black thigh-high
stockings. And my pumps, of course. I tried to compose myself, to
forget that I was utterly nude from my tummy on down. The women chatted
politely, the men also. But they looked freely at my bush as we
mingled.
"If her breasts are as nice as her pussy she'll prove a fine
mount," one man said to another. His friend nodded. A woman plucked at
my pubic hair with her fingers while telling me she'd gone yachting the
day before, out on the carribean sea.
"You'd like it, really," she said. "We did a little fishing
off the side of the boat. I didn't catch anything, though." I felt her
hands roving down between my legs and had to stifle an urge to tell her
that she was catching something now, and I didn't like her not asking
permission. She fondled for my cunt and explored with tracing fingers
the lips of my vagina. Her touch was feather-light, almost not there,
yet it was there, and I was too scared to stop her.
"Brent, you must display also," Jasmine said to him. "How was
your flight," she asked casually, reaching down and undoing his zipper.
She felt within his pants as he murmured something in reply. A moment
later and his dick was exposed. I turned around and looked at it. I
gasped. The others laughed, sensing I'd not seen him before. He was
big and long and the tip of him was wet already, oozing forth the
precurser to his seed.
I was offered a hot dog bun. "Put it around his penis," a
woman told me. I knew not what to do; she guided me forward and pushed
on my shoulders and made me drop to my knees.
I gazed up at Brent. His huge thing pulsed just inches from my
face. "Do as they say," he ordered. "They always make new lovers
perform for them." His words made me feel warm and somehow reassured
me. We were lovers, yes. I fitted the bun to his rod. It was like a
big knockwurst sausage. I had difficulty getting the bun to hold him.
"Do you have a bigger bun?" I asked aloud.
"No, that is fine," Jasmine answered. Her voice was
Spanish-French, it seemed. Foreign, exotic. She handed me a bottle of
Hershey's chocolate. It was a squirt bottle, made of plastic. "Put as
much or as little as you like on him," she told me. "Have you ever had
a chocolate dog before?"
"No," I breathed.
"You'll like it," she said.
Carefully I squirted some chocolate syrup along the length of
Brent's cock. It was so strange, holding him within a hot dog bun,
applying the chocolate as if it were mustard and he he was a human
hotdog.
"Now eat all of the bun, sucking him into your mouth just as if
he were a real knockwurst," Jasmine told me. I heard the others laugh.
Opening my mouth wide, struggling to make him fit inside me, I put the
head of his cock between my lips. He urged himself forward. He was
eager. I gagged, found myself drawing him back a little, out of my
mouth, then I bit very carefully into the bun, biting his cock too, and
sucked the bread away from his pulsing meat.
"She's not half bad at it," a man said. Another agreed. I
took another bite. It was odd, biting him from below to get a chunk of
the bun, while making sure I didn't bite too hard on top lest I bite
into his cock. Brent grunted and thrust himself at me. He wanted, I
think, for me to eat faster. Or perhaps he simply wanted to cum.
"Sir, this is a chocolate dog, not a sperm dog," I reminded
him, feeling a sudden blush of confidence. I kissed his pee hole. Then
I bit more deeply, taking more of him, and chewed the bun. He waited
for me to swallow.
We played like this for some time. As I gradually devoured the
bun it suddenly occured to me that I'd like to squirt his balls. I
picked up the Hershey's and spritzed some chocolate up onto his hairy,
hanging nuts. Then, ignoring his cock a moment, merely rubbing my cheek
against it, I mouthed each of his twin nuts in turn, licking them clean
of chocolate.
Brent groaned. He was enjoying me very much, even as I enjoyed
him. I finished the bun. I stood up and whirled around and greeted the
other guests again, a bright happy look on my face.
"Take off your jacket and blouse," Jasmine said to me. Their
eyes glowed but they showed no sign of granting me any reprieve. I
swallowed. I flushed. Red-faced, I looked down and slowly removed my
jacket and then unbuttoned my blouse. I wanted to hand my nice new suit
to somebody to put away but they made me just drop my clothes on the
floor. "And your bra," they added, when I'd stripped down to that. I
reached behind myself and undid it. My breasts popped out as the cups
fell away. I was truly free now, yet captive at the same time.
"Go to the piano, put your hands on it," Jasmine told me. I
obeyed. I let my hips sway behind me as I walked. I wanted to show
them what I had. I was proud of my figure. "Brace yourself against
it. Stick out your bottom," Jasmine said. Turning my head, looking
fearfully back at her, I offered her my heinie. What did she have
planned for me?
"You do know how to pick a nice ass," one of the men said to
Brent. A woman, the one who had been sampling the crackers when I'd
squatted over the urn, bent and took Brent's cock in her mouth. Jasmine
undid her vest. She slipped her pantsuit down and stepped out of it.
Wearing just her undies, she came up behind me. The others began to
undress, except the woman who was busy suckling Brent's penis.
"Why did you come here?" Jasmine asked me. She placed a hand
on my bottom and felt it as one might caress a pumpkin, picking it out
for slicing on Halloween night.
"Brent brought me," I answered truthfully.
"To be a love slave?" she asked.
"Yes," I replied.
Jasmine shocked me by suddenly slapping my bottom hard with her
palm. I gasped. I lurched in toward the piano and she waited for me to
recover my balance.
"A love slave requires training," Jasmine told me. "We do that
here." She slapped me again. It was a burning slap. It seemed to
engulf my bottom. When her hand fell away I could feel the impress of
her slim fingers against myself and it made my heinie wriggle. I felt
shameful, showing my ass to them, clenching my cheeks. They laughed at
the sight of my waggling bottom.
"Kiss my hand," Jasmine said. She presented it palm upward,
the very palm that had just slapped me! I hesitated. She drew her hand
away and abruptly slapped me again.
"OWWWW!" I cried. I bent my head down and felt my breasts
shiver beneath me as my ass bobbed all around, brazenly displaying
itself. I squeezed my cheeks into themselves and then let go, squeezed
again.
"Kiss my hand," Jasmine ordered once more. This time when she
offered her palm to my lips I kissed her hand freely. "Very good," she
said afterward. She made me turn around. "Your breasts are lovely, let
me feel them," she said. I stood quietly and she fondled me roughly,
squeezing my tits like fruit in a market. She gave each of my nipples a
little pinch. I suppressed a cry. "You are young and healthy, fit for
training," Jasmine said. "Let me see your teeth." I opened my mouth.
I said 'ah.' She looked inside. "Yes, you can wear a bit," she said.
She reached down and fondled my dell. A finger intruded. "You have had
sex before?" she asked. I bit my lip and nodded. "You feel tight. We
will work on that. Turn around again." I turned, fearfully. She
spread my ass cheeks and looked at the dimple of my hole. "Fine, good,
let me feel," she said, pleased with my appearance, wanting to check me
inside. "Don't resist me, girl," she warned. But despite licking the
tip of her finger she could barely get it in. "You will have to be
widened," she said at last with a sigh. Again I sensed her jaded
nature. She had trained other girls before, I knew. I was nothing new,
just another 16-year-old, I realized. Had Brent brought other girls
before me, or was I his first, and Jasmine merely a woman old before her
time, her looks remaining, but her desire depleted? She made me turn to
face her again and I felt as if I were in the presence of a nurse, being
examined clinically, not for the purposes of love.
"Sit down on that chair," she said. She pointed to a big furry
armchair and I walked self-consciously to it and sat down in its warmth
with my bare bottom. My bottom that would have to be widened. My
cheeks felt tight upon the soft fuzzy seat of the chair. I did not want
to be widened.
Jasmine lay a simple cloth beneath my left arm. Then she
produced a needle from a little bag and a tourniquet. I gasped,
cringed. My nipples, hard already, stiffened even further in fright.
"A blood test is necessary to make sure you're free of disease," Jasmine
said. She did not stop to ask my permission but merely took my slim arm
and wrapped the tubing tightly around it. She swabed the crook of my
arm with an alcohol pad. "All our men here are free from disease, you
can be assured of that," she told me. She stabbed. I screamed briefly
but I couldn't help it. "Don't resist any of them. They will not give
you any diseases, nor the women either." When the syringe was full
Jasmine removed the needle, popped the tourniquet, and handed me a fresh
piece of cotton. I daubed the place where she'd stabbed me.
Another woman made me stand. I remembered from our
introductions that she was named Lisa. She clasped my shoulders and
guided me out of the room. As I passed Brent I saw that he was still
being entertained by the other woman, the one who liked cream-crackers.
A friend had undressed her and she was down on her knees now, sucking
hard on my new boyfriend. With a grunt he suddenly came in her mouth
and she began swallowing quickly. "We all share here," Lisa told me.
"Never refuse anyone. It is not permitted." I watched in dismay as my
new boyfriend's seed spilled from the lips of the woman and ran down her
chin and speckled her breasts. "Do you feel jealous?" Lisa asked me.
"Yes," I answered.
"Good, you have come to the right place then," Lisa replied.
"We can train you not to." She took my hand. Together we walked from
the room, as if girlfriends, and she guided me down a long hallway and
out onto a back porch. There were leaves on the porch. A small
fountain tinkled forth its essence, surrounded by rose bushes. Lisa,
her hair as golden as mine in the moonlight of a fresh summer evening,
walked me through the open air to a wing of the building. It was made
of old stone, as if the villa where the living room lay had been built
years afterward, the newer portion being of brick. "We keep the slaves
here," Lisa said. She produced a key from the top of her stocking,
which she'd neatly folded down to hold it, and opened a wooden door in
the side of the wall.
Inside, despite the age of the building, was a room with new
furniture. There was a chair with a rattan seat, a soft carpet on the
floor, and, in the corner, a vanity with a mirror and a place for me to
sit and do my makeup. In the center of the room was a big bed with
brass railings at both ends. Above, ominously, hung chains, two on the
stone wall at the head of the bed and two suspended over the bed, fixed
to the ceiling.
A bathroom beckoned in an ajoining room, seen through an open
door. "It's a communal bath," Lisa said. "But the bedroom's private,
if your master permits the door to be closed." She drew me to the
vanity. There was a vase of fresh roses there, still dripping with
dew. She let me bend close and sniff them. "Jasmine will come in a
little while and whip you," Lisa said. "She may bring your master to
watch, or she may do it alone." I started, my face bent to the
flowers. Lisa saw my surprise and patted my bottom. "You are
well-formed for it," she said. "You would not have been selected if you
weren't. Brent's very picky, and only the best girls are accepted
here. The photographer in L.A. faxed us your photo, did you know
that?" She pointed to jars and phials arranged on the vanity. "Don't
worry, there's plenty here to soothe your bottom when she's done. I'll
take care of that. Would you like a mint?" she opened the top of a
small glass container. Inside were small wrapped mints, expensive ones,
with a German name stamped on each of them.
"Thank you," I said. She plucked one from the bowl and
unwrapped it for me. I felt submissive. She made me open my mouth for
her and she popped it in. "Let's get you all ready for Jasmine," she
said. The mint melted on my tongue. I swallowed. "Come, it's my duty
to give you your bath."
We stepped into the communal bathroom. It was made of cedar
wood, with a rich odor wafting up from the planks which surrounded us.
Along one wall a sunken tub waited to be filled. There was one commode,
and a bidet, plus a long countertop with plenty of room for the sink and
various brushes and combs and bottles and lotions. I saw a glass with
three toothbrushes standing up in it.
Lisa began the tub water and then opened the medicine cabinet.
Inside was a small packet of birth control pills. She removed it and
filled a glass with water. "Open wide," she told me. I did and she
popped in the pill and made me take a big gulp of water. "There, now
you're all set," she said, and patted my fanny. She made me take off my
stockings and shoes and get in the tub. She added bubbles to make the
water scented. I splashed awhile, enjoying the heat, the freedom, Lisa
kneeling beside the tub, watching me, happy, observant but unobtrusive.
Finally she made me stop playing and she had me stand up in front of her
and she scrubbed me very freely and thoroughly with a sponge.
When I got out of the tub my whole body was tingling. Lisa
dried me with a big fluffy towel. Then she drew me back into the other
room, leaving the bathroom door open. Beside the vanity she put a
leather collar around my neck. It was black, like soft felt inside,
shiny on the outside. She locked it around my throat so that I couldn't
remove it. "This helps us control you, if we need to grab you or tie
you or anything," Lisa explained. "It's also a sign of your
submission. It'll be replaced by a black frill, like I'm wearing around
my neck, when you graduate." She kissed my cheek. "Now hop into bed.
Jasmine will be here soon."
"I-" How could I say this to her? That I was having second
thoughts, that I wanted to go home. "I don't want to go through with
this," I said in a small, halting voice.
"That's fine," Lisa said. "We'll be sterner with you if you
resist. Some girls need that."
"No, I mean, REALLY--!" I said, but she simply took my arm and
led me to the big bed and, when I refused to get in, she tumbled me into
it. I was afraid and as a result my knees were wobbly and so when she
pushed me, unexpectedly, I fell quite easily.
I lay under her gaze, awkward, newly fallen, my knees partly
drawn up to my chest, my legs long and coltish. My chest heaved with my
fear and my bosoms wobbled. My nipples were stiffer than I'd ever felt
them. I raised my hands, covered them. I tried to close my thighs to
keep her from seeing my bush. "Resist if you like. Jasmine has trained
all kinds," Lisa smiled. She walked from the room, naked as myself but
wearing only a frill round her neck, plus her stockings and heels. I
was utterly nude now, without a single stitch of clothing, collared like
an animal.
Lisa stopped at the door, turned, and blew me a kiss. Then she
stepped outside and quietly closed the door behind her. I heard her
turn the key in the lock.
I jumped up. I was free as an Indian. This wasn't like other
books, other stories, I'd heard of, where girls were chained up in their
bedrooms. I ran to the door, struggling with my collar. It wouldn't
come off. I grabbed the door's handle. It wouldn't open.
I looked about. There had to be a way out! Suddenly I heard a
door open within the bathroom. There were three doors, one inlaid
within each of the walls, with the sunken tub having a wall all to
itself. A girl stumbled into the bathroom. Her hair was lovely but she
was naked and crying. Her bottom seemed to have a deep blush upon it.
I was about to run up to her, to help her, when a huge monster-like man
emerged from the door she'd just come through.
"Drink from the toilet, bitch!" he yelled. I gasped. My hands
clutched at my throat. I crept to the door to see into bathroom.
They'd passed by my door, both of them, not seeing me, and were now out
of sight.
I snuck up to the door, frightened as a deer, but curious about
its hunter. I looked in and, to my shocked surprise, I saw the poor
sobbing girl bent down, dog-like, on her hands and knees with her lovely
auburn hair tumbling all over the open bowl of the commode. Her face
was somewhere down inside, and I heard a lapping sound.
The big monster-like man was behind her. He was hugely
muscular but in an obnoxious way, like those weightlifters you see in
the Olypmics, not sculpted brawn but just raw, almost unformed brawn.
He was hairy and he wore a big belt with rivets in it, as if the belt
had been bolted to his stomach. He was not fat, though. He was hard
and lean in his bulging, unsculpted hugeness. He was not overly tall
and he had big huge legs and wore boots, as if he were some medieval
fetishist. Gloves of leather contained his enormous hands and,
thankfully perhaps, he wore a hood of black leather over his head. In
his hand was a cat o' nine tails. It looked as if it was made of soft
leather strips, but he made up for that by striking it hard against the
weeping girl's bottom.
"Drink more, bitch!" the ogre-man commanded. I saw that the
girl had indeed been getting spanked, for her bottom was bright red,
like a tomato, even though her skin on her limbs and her back and her
breasts, squished against the rim of the toilet bowl, was creamy white.
"Why are you making her drink from the toilet?" I blurted. It
was a mistake, but I was so shocked I couldn't help myself and my words
escaped before I could stop them. The Hunchback of Caracus turned and
noticed me for the first time.
"INTO your bedroom, slave!" he roared. I retreated, scared out
of my wits. I heard a voice behind me.
"The toilet is clean," Jasmine said. I whirled about.
Jasmine! "We wouldn't harm a girl by making her drink from a dirty
bowl," she said to me. She didn't smile but I sensed there was a smile
lurking behind her lips. "Get on the bed for your first whipping," she
said. She gestured at my bed.
"I-I don't want one," I said.
"I can tie you down or Olaf can," she said, actually smiling
now. With her hand, which held a long, thin riding crop, she gestured
at the bathroom door. "You will, of course, be whipped much more
sternly if I have to put you down forcibly," she added. "Either way is
acceptable to me. Olaf can have you chained down in no time. I only
handle the whip."
"I-I'll go with you," I said meekly. I put my hand to my
breasts. I was completely nude and defenseless. What could I do?
Jasmine simply gestured at my bed.
With greatly hesitent steps I inched toward my bed, all the
while the whipped girl in the toilet sobbing in my ears. Reaching the
bed, I pressed my knees against it.
"Get in, get on your knees," Jasmine said. "Don't make me get
mean about it, dear. Your bottom will be sore enough as it is." I
dropped down onto the bed and crawled forward. I plunked my head down
on my pillow, but let my bottom stay up in the air.
"Where's Brent?" I asked.
"Brent's busy," Jasmine answered. And I knew doing what, too.
Getting his penis sucked by all the other girls, as if he were King Tut
or something.
Jasmine kneed onto the bed behind me. She placed a hand on the
small of my back and brushed me lightly with her fingers. "You have a
fine darling ass," she complimented. "A bottom like this is always a
delight to whip. Scream and cry if you like. Crying is preferred. It
lets me know I'm doing my job. Try not to wiggle around too much. And
whatever you do, don't put your hands over your seat. That will earn
you extra strokes." She patted my long golden hair. "Bite your pillow,
dear. This is going to hurt, I won't kid you." I obeyed, wordlessly,
and put my teeth into my pillow. It felt so soft. Was I really to be
whipped?
Jasmine raised her hand, her whip hand, lofting her whip high.
It was stiff and whippy, springy, a cross between a crop and a whip.
She let me look over my shoulder at it, fearfully, mouthing my pillow,
my eyes wide.
"You should see how you're tensing your bottom cheeks," Jasmine
laughed. "Such a little kitten. Lisa will come and make you all better
when it's done."
And then her hand swung down. I felt a biting, scorching line
of heat dig into my bottom. I bounced forward. My mouth sprung from
its hold on the corner of my pillow. My bosoms smooshed onto the silky
surface of the sheet beneath me and my hands flew back and clapped
themselves to my tush.
"WAAAAAH!" I shouted. And in my shouting, to my utter
humiliation, I realized that the ugly ogre, Olaf, in the bathroom could
hear me.
"Take your hands away," Jasmine said sternly.
"No, please," I blubbered.
She caressed my hair. "I have trained so many girls," she
murmured. "Some submit willingly, others refuse. Still others try to
submit and then find they can't. It's up to you, my dear. You are not
the first to kneel upon this bed, and you are far from the last."
"Oh please," I sobbed. I buried my head in my pillow. Quietly
she lifted my hands from my bottom and placed them beside my face. She
was naked as I, and lovely in her nakedness, wearing just a frill round
her neck to show her own submission to... whom? And her stockings,
pulled tight, plus her pumps, and glistening earrings which dangled down
from her ears, making her look delicate even as she was uncompromising.
"This is just a taste," she said. "There is much more to come, poor
baby. What did you think being a love slave involved?"
"I don't know," I sobbed.
"Well, neither did I, when I started," she said. "Now lift up
your bottom high. This is not gym class, and I am not your gym
instructor. There you're given demerits if your shorts are too short.
Here you must bare all, yes, your precious fanny. And you must let me
whip it so I can see your cheeks clench and release. It will help me
judge your tightness so I can open you more effectively." She slapped
my fanny, making me clutch at my pillow. "Bottom up, girl! Open your
thighs. Very good. Dip your back. Now you're showing as you should."
My reward was another stinging sweep of the whippy cane across
my fanny. I howled, lifting my head, but somehow I managed to clutch
onto my pillow.
"OooooWhooo!" I shouted. Jasmine stroked my back, as if
pitying me. I heard small footsteps. I turned my teary face and saw
the spanked girl from the next room enter. Her tears were drying now.
Sniffling, she held a lollipop and was softly licking it. It was a huge
lollipop, swirled, colorful. She held it above her nakedly swinging
breasts. Her tummy sighed. Her bush was chestnut colored and fleecy.
A heavy tread followed and Olaf stood behind her. She did not notice
him now. Her punishment was done and she watched me, bug-eyed, as I
received mine. She looked no older than me, younger, perhaps. Olaf
crossed his arms behind her. I could not see his face because of his
hood and I was glad.
WAHCK! Came the cane again. It whirr-whipped down onto my
tushy and I rolled it urgently about, burying my face in my pillow
again, somehow holding on to it.
"She's been bad," our nude visitor said over her lollipop.
"No, Missy, she's being very good," Jasmine corrected. "She is
not like you, brought here by your parents because you're unruly and
insist on playing with boys when they tell you not to. She didn't pee
on my flowers outside like you did. She's being trained for love, to
serve her loving master in whatever way he pleases."
Jasmine smacked my bottom hard again, with the whip, sending me
into a new ululation of urgent appeal. She ignored my pleadings. She
didn't even bother to answer my 'no's' anymore, because I kept my hands
on my pillow, and my ass, somehow, up high. Another blow fell, searing
itself into my soft ass flesh, and I howled and spilled new tears on my
pillow.
"Well, good or bad, she's being punished just the same," Missy
piped up again, showing remarkable spunk given the state of her bottom
and Jasmine's unremitting discipline on mine.
Jasmine whacked me again, very hard, as if angry with Missy but
taking it out on the most immediately convenient target, me! I hissed
and hooted with pain and lurched forward, bumping my head against the
brass rails of the bed. My hands flew back to my fanny and I collapsed
onto my tummy. I held my bottom tight and shouted, "NO MORE! NO MORE!
NO MORE!"
Jasmine bent and gave a lick between the lowest part of my
hinds, right along my crack. Then she leapt up from the bed, tossed her
hair, and walked with the gait of an Olympic victor to the outer door.
She opened it, turned, and spoke to Olaf.
"See that they behave, Olaf," she ordered. "Missy, you are
insufferably naughty and I'll have a crack at your hiney just as soon as
I'm done partying in the West Wing. Until then, you can worry and wait
for it. Kelly, you'll be whipped again in the morning. And we'll start
your dildo training then, after you've been turned to toast to make you
more receptive. For now, enjoy the last hours of your tight little
ass. Olaf, make sure Missy drinks from the toilet all night!"
"Aye, Miss!" Olaf responded to Jasmine.
"...And Missy, to show your contrition, put some lotion on poor
Kelly's bottom. Lisa's probably too busy having fun at our orgy.
Tootle-loo, kids. You'll play with us as soon as you both grow up!"
Oh, I felt horrible, lying there on the bed, clutching my
burning bottom, knowing Brent was having the time of his life without me
in the West Wing, with the women, leaving me here bereft, with a bratty
insouciant child and some big molester dude in a hood. I coughed, I
wept, I held my hinds, rubbing my bush against the sheets, squeezing my
thighs and my cheeks.
Small knees dented the sheet beside my hips and I felt sticky
hands lift my palms from my ass. A cold squirt hit my shuddering
hinds.
"This will help," Missy said to me. She began rubbing lotion
into my wounded bottom with her lollipop fingers. It lay on my vanity,
staining the wood. I imagined by the time she was finished Missy would
find to her dismay that it was stuck there. And I'd have a big sticky
swirled lollipop to keep me company in my bedroom for the rest of my
stay.
"You'll have to pee in the chamberpot under your bed if I'm to
drink from the toilet," Missy said to me. I was beginning to see why
her parents didn't like her. Despite her impish size, smaller than me,
she seemed to have no qualms about assuming command. She was blessed
with large tempting breasts that I had no doubt had gotten her in
trouble. Perhaps she bared them, I thought, in Sunday School, or on the
Playground. Her legs were breathtaking. Their slimness made up for her
undeveloped height. She was grow, I was sure, but she was, at least, a
year or two younger than me, perhaps more. I looked at her over my
shoulder, still clutching the sides of my bottom as she spread oil in
between.
"Missy, how old are you?" I inquired. My voice was trembly
with my subsiding sobs.
"13 and a half this month," Missy replied proudly. She lifted
her breasts as she spoke, arching her back, and let out a big contented
sigh. Olaf stood in the background, silent, mute, his arms crossed.
"Why were you sent here?" she asked before I could ask her the same.
"I-I don't know," I answered.
"Of course you do," she said. "All girls do. Don't pretend
you don't when you do. You can't fool me!" She grinned and moved my
hands off my fanny onto the sheet beside my hips. She squirted more
lotion on my bottom. It warmed as she spread it on my seat. I was
beginning to feel a slowly increasing glow there, and the lines of the
crop were fading into sharp striations of burn amidst a deeper more
fulfilling warmth.
"I met a man and..." I began. My voice caught in my throat.
"I wanted to submit?" The last word trilled high, making a question,
though perhaps I'd not intended it to be.
Missy patted my bottom. "You'll learn to submit here, that's
for sure," she said. She breathed a big childish sigh again. "They say
it makes you feminine, submitting." I nodded without nodding, moving my
chin a little on my pillow in agreement.
"Why did you cum?" I asked. We both giggled at the allusion.
I felt soft and warm and cared for.
"I came because I'm naughty," Missy said. She was confident as
Oliver Twist on a pickpocketing spree. "I get naughty sometimes. My
parents say I'm hard to handle."
"What did you do?" I asked.
"Oh, various things," she replied mischievously. "They decided
they'd had enough when they came home early and I was having a big party
for all the kids and we were having nude footraces up and down my
driveway. That was fun. I got laid too!"
"Did you like it?" I asked.
"Sure, it was a great party. Everyone got laid and drunk and
our parents all said we were going to be whores when we grow up, and the
boys were all going to prison. Of course, everyone blamed my parents,
'cause its their house and I'm their daughter. So they decided to send
me here."
"There!" Missy announced, and proudly slapped my bottom.
"YeeeOW!" I shouted. She plopped down onto her tummy beside me
and offered me the squirt bottle of lotion. "Do my ass," she said. "I
got whipped too, by Olaf!" She turned her face to him and stuck out her
tongue. He ignored her. He apparently had no power over her now,
except to keep her in the prisoner's wing and under reasonable control.
I brushed my hair back and got up. What an unusual girl! She
actually ASKED for trouble, seemed to relish it. I wondered what would
happen to her in life. She was well brought-up, despite her
naughtiness. But she seemed to need to test life even more than I did.
I squirted lotion on her bottom and had just begun to rub it in when we
both heard a sobbing scream from the bathroom.
"Oooh! That's Sally!" Missy said, propping her head up on her
elbows and listening alertly. "Let's go peek!" We leapt from the bed.
I thought Olaf would stop us but he didn't, merely standing,
sentinel-like, as we rushed with quiet footsteps to my door and looked
into the bathroom.
There, before my astonished eyes, was a woman, perhaps 25, with
big slumbrous breasts and gorgeous hips. Her waist was narrow and her
legs long and lean and perfectly tanned. She dropped to her knees,
sobbing, as a man emerged from her bedroom and began whacking her bottom
with a belt. She'd clearly received much already; her bottom and even
her back and thighs were scored with broad, bright red weal-like marks.
Sally knelt on the floor like a dog and received blow after
blow across her lovely heinie. Her breasts, big as gourds, swung with
every flailing blow of the belt. Her nipples stuck out like thorns, as
if lusting for more. Her master was beautifully formed, not ugly like
Olaf. He had a large, broad chest and column-like legs. His ass seemed
tight and small and he clenched it as he swung the belt again and again
in painful strokes across Sally's rump. Most tantalizing of all, his
dick stuck straight out, unsatisfied. Perhaps Missy and I would get
invited to an orgy after all!
"That's David," Missy said. "He can be mean." We watched with
wondering eyes as Sally recieved her due and then, forced on her knees
to the toilet, was made to drink from it. As she did David dropped down
to the floor behind her and prodded her with his cock.
"Ohhh, no!" Sally cried. Her voice burbled somewhere inside
the toilet bowl as David rudely forced his prick into her from behind
and began humping her.
Missy fingered her clit. "David's the worst," she confided in
me. "He treats his women terribly, even worse than Olaf. Fortunately
we don't have him for our guard. He's usually assigned to the ladies."
"Who's Sally?" I asked, succumbing to the same temptation that
gripped Missy, dropping a questing finger to my cunny and seeking
pleasure there, or, rather, relief.
"She's a private secretary, but she likes to get it sometimes,"
she replied. "She checks in and begs not to be hurt, and they don't,
actually, I guess, hurt her, I mean, but they have David here sometimes
and he really puts her through her paces. This is her third time, I
think."
"How do you know all this?" I said, turning briefly to her. I
felt silly, standing naked in the bathroom door, frigging myself, her
beside me, doing the same, the two of us conspiratorial children, but I
couldn't help it. My senses were overwhelmed.
"I live three blocks away," Missy whispered. "I sneak over
here and spy on them. I've done it all year, ever since my mom and dad
moved to Caracus. I was too scared to ever play here. And I never
thought my parents would find out about this place and send me here!"
"Ohhh," I replied. I felt a tremor seize my tummy as an orgasm
built inside me. Missy rubbed herself more eagerly. We watched as
David fucked Sally. Olaf, seemingly unperturbed by our naughtiness, or
simply confident that he could report it all to Jasmine when she
returned, did nothing to stop us.
I rubbed myself faster. Missy showed no inhibition as she
frigged herself. The sight of David plunging his rod in and out of
Sally was just too much for us. And the thought that Olaf, however
reserved he appeared at the moment, might choose to spank us with the
cat he still clutched in his gloved hand, sent us over the top. I
keened out my lust, rubbing my spot furiously, bulging my bottom out
behind me, almost hoping Olaf would strike me for my misbehavior.
Missy, too, seemed smitten with the thought of being punished for
frigging herself. She danced on tip-toe like an orgasmic little elf and
at the same time jutted her cute bottom back, flaunting it at Olaf, then
at David, then at me, as she shuddered through one orgasm and then
another.
When she'd been thoroughly fucked Sally recovered herself and
managed to stand. David, who'd been so cruel to her before, helped her,
his hands kind, gentle, almost loving. She saw us, smiled, and walked
over to us. We stood like Beavis and Butthead now, our orgasms
shiveringly subsiding within us. She put her arms around us and we let
our mouths be put to her bosoms. I suckled one of her tits as Missy
nipped and suckled the other.
"Missy dear, don't bite me!" Sally laughed. David,
tantalizingly, watched over us, as if he might master Missy and me now
that he was done with Sally. We supped at her tits as if we'd missed
breakfast and dinner. I found myself awakened to a new kind of love.
Soft, nurturing, feminine, but with the male presence right behind me,
in the person of Olaf and David, forever ready to break in and seize
me.
"Go to bed, dears," Sally said at last, pulling our sucking
babyish mouths from her teats. Missy and I were starting to feel frisky
again and we didn't want to go.
"Drink from the toilet, both of you!" David said. He ordered
us over to the commode and we were forced to sink down to our knees next
to each other and put our heads inside.
I tasted the water. It was no different from ordinary water,
but the thought of drinking from a toilet--! Missy lapped without
complaint. I decided, reaching back to feel my wounded bottom, that I'd
best follow along. We drank like deer from a stream, just using our
tongues. When we were finally permitted to lift our heads from the bowl
I found myself smacking my lips.
"Well, I'm not at all thirsty so I won't need any more drinks
tonight!" Missy assured Olaf and David.
"Any time you get up to pee you'll also take a nice long drink
from the toilet," David assured her. Was he in charge of us too?
Looking at Sally, with marks all over her back, her bottom, and her
thighs, made me shiver at the prospect of being his slave. Yet, he was
already growing hard again, watching us. Freely he put his hand to his
penis and gave it a quick massage.
"Ah, that feels better," David grinned. "God, what a gorgeous
pair of girls you two are! Missy, those breasts are like plump little
melons! Who's your new friend?"
"This is Kelly," Missy smiled coyly. She put a finger to my
bosom and pushed on my nipple as if it were a button. David put his
hand to his cock and massaged it breifly again, his eyes gazing at me
appreciatively.
"Pleased to meet you, Kelly," he said graciously. I was
surprised at his gallantry.
"Your reputation precedes you, sir, as does your thing," I
replied. I smiled. I was not entirely unlearned in the art of love.
"I can do that for you if you like," I suggested. I crept closer to
him, a little afraid, and made to cup his big bulging penis head in my
hands.
"Yes! I can do that for you, sir!" Missy agreed. She jumped
forward and tried to grab his penis shaft even as I went for his head.
David stepped back. "I do not have permission," he said. "If
I were given it, I'm sure it would be for the purpose of punishment.
You must see Jasmine if you want my cock, much as I'd like to give it to
you. I serve her, not you."
"We are prisoners then," I admitted, watching in dismay as he
pulled his cock back from our seeking hands.
"Most definitely," David answered. He was much bigger than
me. I didn't want to anger him. "Both of you go to bed. Sleep
together. That much of an order I can give. Missy, try not to wet the
bed tonight." I looked at the girl beside me. She blushed fiercely and
hung her head.
"It's all that drinking out of the toilet!" she protested.
"She'll make a good playmate for you, even if she does wet the
bed," David assured me.
"I don't want a playmate..." I told him. My voice was firm and
I tried to make it sound as mature as possible. He reached out, took my
hand, and lifted it way up to his lips. I stood on tiptoe, breathless,
my bosoms rising with my chest, and watched as he kissed my hand.
"Put Missy against the counter and lick her pussy," he said to
me. I gasped. I heard Missy gasp behind me. "Do it!" he roared. I
turned about on my heels, my stomach churning, and ran to Missy. She
hesitated, I moved her to the counter and made her bottom bump up
against the edge. I could feel my bottomcheeks burning still, I had no
intention of getting punished by David!
"Ouch!" Missy said, as I made her press her spanked seat
against the counter. I turned my head and looked wide-eyed at David.
"Must I?" I asked. His look was so fierce I dropped to my
knees at once again put my tongue to her slit.
"Ooooh! Don't! You're naughty!" Missy declared. Even so, she
opened her thighs a little to give me easier access. I nosed my face
into her dell and licked as if my life depended on it. My bottom, did,
that was for sure! Behind me I heard David smoothing his belt across
his palm, deeply tempted. And Olaf, who I feared even more, if only
because he might strike me without permission, slapped his cat o' nine
tails impatiently against his thigh.
"Get me some lotion," David ordered Sally. Feeling a little
bereft, I think, she walked to the medicine cabinet and got out some K-Y
jelly. I watched her from the corner of my eye. She had a big bottom
and it was seared very vividly with marks. But she held it out proudly,
letting it sway, even flaunting it. Her bosoms bounced seductively on
her chest, big milk-giving bosoms that only needed a baby to make them
squirt.
Sally applied the K-Y to David's penis with soothing, liberal
fingers, tickling his balls, hoping to make him want to fuck her again.
But as soon as his pole was greased he brushed her aside. "I'm going to
shoot in her hair," he said quietly. And, as I felt his big greased
pole stick itself into my mane of tumbling blonde hair, I realized it
was MY hair he was talking about!
David fixed his eyes on Missy as he nested his big dick in my
hair. I felt mortified, humiliated! He was going to go on me, but it
was Missy that sparked his desires. She looked at him, bug-eyed, her
childish cheeks puffing as I worked her slit with my tongue. I was but
an obedient doggie, serving Missy, my mistress, who in turn was being
used by David for his own masturbatory enjoyment. Sally, left to
herself, got some cream from the medicine cabinet and ordered (yes,
ordered!) Olaf to rub it on her poor fanny.
In this way did our most unusual arrangement unfold: Olaf,
standing behind Sally, with her presenting her bottom to him, the two of
them standing, frigged Sally's slit with his one gloved hand while his
other gloved hand spread soothing cream on her ass. Meanwhile, Sally,
standing behind David, began slapping his ass. Quite hard, it sounded,
from her slaps. I could just imagine how her boobies looked, swinging
around like big cantaloupes as she smacked her sadistic lover. He,
meanwhile, had his penis in my hair, and was hoping to spurt into my
long blonde locks while I, kneeling, the only one down on my knees,
licked Missy. She jigged and bounced on her toes, pleading with me to
stop, but loving it too, heaving her young breasts about and letting
David watch her antics as he massaged himself.
"Finger yourself," David told me. I didn't want to, but with
that big man so close behind me, still holding his belt, I wasn't about
to question him or refuse. I reached down into my slit and began
rubbing my spot. Soon my breath was gasping as much as Missy's, the two
of us rising toward orgasm. Behind me, I could hear from David's
panting that he was now on the verge of cuming himself. And Sally, with
a pleased scream, announced that Olaf had made her cum.
"Ahhhh!" I heard above me as David shot his load into my hair.
"David!" I screamed, but my protest was mingled with a cry from
my throat as I felt an orgasm rip through my slitted loins. Missy,
above me, locked her knees as she called out an orgasm of her own. Only
Olaf did not cum. He was wearing trousers. None of us cared. I kept
my mind focused on Missy's little slit while feeling David's hot jism
shoot into my hair and run down my neck and trickle in rivulets down my
back. I wiggled my ass and felt his semen anoint me there, where so
recently Jasmine had whipped me raw.
I sighed into Missy's pussy and let my orgasm finish and
subside. She pried my head back a few minutes later, eager to be free
of me. I took my hands off my thighs and guiltily looked up at her.
"Sorry," I whispered.
"Well, at least you're not a brown nose," she smirked.
"I'm a honey nose," I agreed.
"Let's sleep together," she suggested.
"Don't wet the bed!" I cautioned.
"I won't," she promised.
We stood up. David and Sally were gone, back in their
bedroom. I heard Sally moaning and howling but didn't even want to know
what they were up to. Their door was closed. I hoped it was locked,
perhaps from our side, to keep David out. I didn't like him anymore.
Using me as a dog--what a brute!
Missy and I filled the tub and gave ourselves a bath. She
played with a rubber ducky she found among the towels piled by the side
of the tub. I washed my hair. She helped a little. She felt sorry for
how David had used me. Olaf, ever our chaperone, merely watched. He
had a bulge in his trousers but, unlike David, he had the courtesy not
to massage it.
We retreated to my bedroom and Missy and I straightened the
covers of my bed. Then we hopped in, Missy fetching her lollipop, which
Olaf had to pull off from the surface of my vanity. We embraced, me
getting my hair a little sticky again as I tried, and failed, to avoid
her big lollipop. Then we curled up and went to sleep, the sound of her
tongue licking her lollipop the last sound that I heard.
Chapter Four
"Wake up, you sleepyheads! You have visitors!" I heard
somewhere beyond the clouds of my dreams. My mother, I thought. And
then I realized that there must be two of us, me and somebody else, and
for a moment I lay there wondering, with eyes closed, why on Earth I'd
decided to actually sleep over at my friend's house? I mean, I used her
as an excuse. Her face was full of zits and she wore hornrimmed glasses
and her knowledge of boys centered exclusively around an (ever growing)
collection of issues of Tiger Beat.
I felt a nipple nudge me. Her breasts were not that plump.
And then, quite suddenly, as a half-dried, half-licked sticky lollipop
plopped against my cheek, I realized that I was not at home at all, or
even in L.A., but in Caracas!
A sweet tropical air wafted in through the door as it stood
open beyond the figure of Jasmine. She wore a simple t-shirt,
much-scissored, and cutoffs. She appeared to be absolutely blooming, as
if she'd spent the night being nourished on men's sperm. And, rubbing
my eyes, I realized she'd been doing just that, and with my Brent no
less! I gazed at her firm, tanned legs, breathtakingly long, mounted on
jelly heels to loft her bottom even higher than nature itself already
had. Her bosoms thrust themselves at me as if they were twin zeppelins
launching into the warm summer air. She tossed her head. She put her
hands on her hips to let us know that, much as we might hate her, she
was very much in charge. Within the curling fingers of one hand she
held a no-nonsense riding crop. She slapped it lightly against her
thigh. I felt like I was a girl at boarding school and realized, to my
heartbeating surprise, that I may as well be, given how little freedom I
had. Except this school ommitted the three R's in favor of the three
S's: sucking, spanking, and submitting.
Three rowdy young males in their twenties sauntered into our
bedchamber behind Jasmine. I recognized none of them. Two had crewcuts
and the third sported hair to his shoulders. They looked like American
Football players. But they behaved like farmers at a cattle auction.
Jasmine yanked down the bedcover and exposed myself and Missy.
"See? They are lovely creatures, don't you think?" Jasmine
asked her guests.
"Mite young, eh?" one male said to his buddy.
"Tits are nice, long legs, roll over, girls!" his friend
replied. Missy and I stared wide-eyed at them. We found each other on
the sheet and hugged each other for safety.
Jasmine struck our denuded sheet with her crop. "Do as you're
told, girls!" she shouted. Missy and I flopped over on our bellies and
showed them our bottoms.
"Who marked them?" the intellectual one, in the middle, who'd
analyzed our breasts and limbs for us, asked. He was the one with long
hair.
"I did, last night," Jasmine replied. "They are being
trained."
"You provide this... this service... it is included?" the
intellectual asked.
"If you wish. It is customary," Jasmine replied. "Your
girlfriend would be put in this room, or one of the other two. They
share a communal bath in the center."
Olaf strode in from the bathroom and Jasmine introduced him.
"This is Olaf, and you might be able to meet David, if he's not busy
with Sally. She requires extra attention. Olaf is gay, so you needn't
worry about him guarding your girlfriend. David is sterner but not
gay. I usually put the little ones, like these two, with Olaf." Missy
and I looked at each other and then hid our faces back in our pillows.
I was all too aware of my hiney sticking up behind me. There was
nothing to save me if Jasmine chose to strike. I gripped the corners of
my pillow with my fingers. I wanted desperately to reach back and cup
my bottom in my palms, but we'd been flipped over to show our tushies,
not hide them. I was learning. Later I wondered if I might have gotten
away with lifting up my heels, hiding myself a little with my legs, but
at the time I didn't think of it.
"I will have my girlfriend brought, then," the intellectual
told Jasmine. "These two, they look ripe for fucking. You wouldn't
mind if I hop on the bed and do them, would you?" I froze as I heard
his zipper unzip.
Jasmine sauntered over to him and clasped his zipper between
his fingers. Sneaking a peek over her shoulder, Missy told me that it
looked like she was going (to her, at least) to pull out his cock, but
instead Jasmine zipped him back up.
"You must understand that they are the property of another,"
Jasmine told our intellectual friend. "Just as I will protect your
girlfriend, so I must protect them."
"I will gladly pay," the intellectual footballer said, reaching
into his pocket. Mindy whispered to me what was happening as she stole
her peeks.
"Not now, but I'll let you warm up with them," Jasmine smiled.
"There are, let me see, why there are three chairs here! Sit down,
boys, and go ahead and unzip yourselves. Play with yourselves freely,
but try not to shoot! If you can hold yourselves in I'll finish you off
when I'm done with these two!"
"Now that's a bargain!" the two crew-cut footballers agreed,
though Missy thought the intellectual one might have been a bit miffed.
The three of them swaggered to chairs arranged across from our bed and
plopped down and undid their pants. Out, like three big bananas, came
their cocks. At once, with sly glances at each other, they began
jacking themselves.
"Missy! Kelly! You two are quite fortunate; you especially,
Kelly. You've won a reprieve from your morning spankings. Get up! No
spankings! Brent wants to take you both out and he wants you to be able
to sit down." Jasmine clapped her hands and Missy and I flipped back
onto our bottoms, both of us wincing a little as we bounced them on the
soft sheet of the bed. I could still feel the marks she'd given me.
Jasmine smiled as she saw me feel them. They were like dull streaks of
fire across my heinie. Jasine took my hand and pulled me from my bed.
Missy, like a kid sister, hopped out of bed behind me.
"First we must measure you," Jasmine told us. "Over there!
Both of you, against the wall! Let's see how tall you are!" I noticed
a Sesame Street measuring tape, a foot broad, running up the side of the
bedroom wall. It was behind the door and Jasmine marched both Missy and
I over to it. I had to step over the stretched out legs of one of the
footballers to reach the tape. I think he reached out to pinch my naked
fanny but Jasmine sluiced her whip down between his reaching fingers and
my bulbing ass, protecting me from his touch.
I backup up to a Smiling picture of Big Bird. Amidst his
yellow feathers the tape measure ran. He smiled, gaily, holding up the
measurer. Jasmine put her crop flat against the top of my head and
announced my height. Then she did the same to Missy.
"Up with your arms, girls, I must measure your busts," Jasmine
said. She produced a small rolled tape measure from her jeans pocket,
made of soft cloth. She had me stand out a little from the wall and she
wrapped the tape right round my nipples, indenting them. She did my
hips next, then measured me from my pubic thatch to my neck. She did
the same with Missy. All the while our three male visitors played with
their big pricks, watching. Jasmine bent and measured my feet. Her
jeans rode up her hips in back and showed the men the undercheeks of her
bottom.
"God, what an ass! I get first dibs on plunging into that!"
one of the crewcut lads proclaimed. Jasmine just smiled, and went on to
measure Missy's feet. We both had small feet. The Chinese would have
liked them.
"Alright, girls! Just a little more trimming and your coats
should be ready. Brent's bought you both new fur coats to make you feel
special." She smiled at me. Did I have two fur coats now? "But
remember, whatever you're given here is for his pleasure, girls,"
Jasmine continued. "Don't think the furs are yours, even if they're
specially made. You are both little toys, and he owns you, and he owns
the clothes on your back, too. So enjoy them, but don't treasure them.
He'll buy you some very nice things when you both get sent home, if
you've made him happy." There was a look in her eyes of warning, and
promise. She tossed her lovely dark hair and smiled a possessive smile.
"Do we HAVE to dress in front of those three lugs?" Missy
declared. She was as eager to get into clothes as I.
"Girls, you should know I am the absolute feminist," Jasmine
said. She put a hand to Missy's hair and brushed it with her fingers.
"But there is a time to control, and there is a time to be controlled.
And," she added, conspiratorially, "there is even such a thing as
controlling by submitting, and by being beautiful. Do boys like you,
Missy?"
"Of course," Missy said scornfully. She tossed her hair and
seemed not to wish to have Jasmine attend to it.
"And they would kill each other to have you, wouldn't they?"
Jasmine asked. Missy looked at her, guessed at her meaning, and
smiled. "And all you need do is look beautiful, hmmm?" Jasmine reached
out and made Missy let her brush at her hair.
"Well," Missy looked down at her toes. I looked down at mine
and I watched as hers curled up under her feet and I copied her.
Missy's breath exhaled and her tummy protruded a moment, as if she were
but a sweet teddy bear.
"Here you exist for the pleasure of men," Jasmine said to us
both. She put a hand under Missy's chin and lifted her eyes so that she
was forced to look up at her. "No complaining, sweet dear. I will
protect you from men, as I see fit. Otherwise, you are to not worry the
least about them. If they wish to gawk, let them! They are twice your
age."
Missy pulled her chin away from Jasmine's fingers and gazed at
our three paramours. "I don't like them," she sniffed. "Two have hair
that's too short, and one has hair that's too long. And as for their...
THINGIES... well, they're nice I guess, but I'm not in the mood this
morning!" Missy stomped out past Jasmine, past the men, and over to my
vanity. She found her lollipop on my pillow and plucked it from the
bed. Standing in front of the vanity's mirror, sucking her lollipop,
she brushed back her hair with her hand. Her heinie, bare as the day
she was born, tensed and released, then tensed again.
"That girl is just begging to be spanked!" Jasmine said to
herself, aloud, under her breath. I brushed back my own hair and
followed her, much more modestly, back across the room to where Missy
stood.
Jasmine made us both stand facing the mirror. She palmed our
bottoms. We were glorious as newborns, but she was past pampering us.
"Missy, you will do just as I say, or I swear you'll stay behind and not
get to go out with Brent and Kelly. You'll be spanked until you can't
sit, and then you'll be made to clean all the bathroom floor in my house
with a sponge in your mouth. And, just in case you think that's fun,
I'll have these three 'lugs,' as you call them, pee on the floors for
you!"
I put my hands to my mouth and failed to suppress a giggle. I
don't know what Missy thought of all that, but I guess she decided being
laughed at by me was more than she wished to bear.
"Okay," Missy said, but kept on licking her lollipop as she
spoke, as if to muffle her consent so it could barely be heard.
Jasmine slapped Missy's bottom. The girl stood up on her
tippy-toes. Her fanny was still sore from last night.
"Owoooh!" Missy keened. Ruefully she reached back and rubbed
her bottom.
"Yes, little one, you are going to be sexually trained,"
Jasmine said to her. "You're too big to just be spanked like a bad
girl. I'm giving you to Brent and I expect you to be on your best
behavior. You'll be a woman when you leave here. Your parents won't
know what to think!"
I realized, standing there in the all together, that I had to
go to the bathroom. I put my hands to my pussy, discreetly. It had
been so amazing, waking up to the sight of three althetic men in my
room, I'd not even thought of my bladder!
Jasmine saw my hands in the mirror. She laughed. She looked
down at me and I, with a self-conscious wriggle of my bottom, looked up
at her. "Gentlemen, you're about to see two little girls pee!" Jasmine
called out. She looked over her shoulder at our guests. I blushed. My
fingers fidgeted in my nest. Missy's cheeks colored. She had to go
just as I did.
We peed for them in the bathroom. Missy managed to slip in
ahead of me and I had to wait while she peed. She pretended like she
had to do number two also, but Jasmine yanked her up from the toilet. I
went next, the men watching. They were intrigued. You'd have thought
they were watching sports.
Jasmine had Missy and I take a quick dip in the tub. Then we
put on new makeup, and brushed out our hair. The men watched, rubbing
themselves. One of them almost came as I bent forward to put on some
lipstick.
Back in the bedroom, Jasmine had a new surprise for us. She
handed Missy and I each a teensy pile of string.
"Put these on," Jasmine told us.
"What are they?" Missy asked.
"Bikinis, silly," I guessed. They were even smaller than the
ones Sherry and I had worn.
Missy untangled her bikini and stared at it. "I can't tell
which is the top and which is the bottom!" she said. And, looking at
mine, I could see I had the same problem. There were two tiny pieces of
fabric for the bra cups, and two tiny pieces of fabric for the front and
back of our panties.
"This half looks like the panties to me, try it on!" Jasmine
told Missy. She pointed to me which half I should try first. I put the
bra on the vanity and slipped the bikini panties around my waist.
Pulling them through my crotch, I realized to my horror that nothing but
string went through my labial lips.
"This must be the bra!" I said hopefully. But a glance at
Jasmine told me it wasn't so. These were, indeed, the panties. A
miniscule triangle of fabric hoped (vainly) to cover my pubic delta. My
tail, meanwhile, had a little vee of fabric centered at the base of my
bottom cheeks. It hid perhaps an inch of my bottomcrack. The rest of
me was left bare.
"I'm afraid Brent picked out bedroom bikinis for you girls to
wear to brunch with him," Jasmine smiled at Missy and me. We stood half
in and mostly out of our bikinis, staring at her, holding the string of
our undies in our hands and wondering whether there was any point in
even tying them on. Jasmine assured us that we did, indeed, have to tie
ourselves into them. The men watched Missy and I as we struggled with
the loose bits of string. Finally, after much suffering, we managed to
get all suited up in both our nothing undies and our postage stamp bras.
I looked at myself in the vanity mirror. A string as thin as
spaghetti crossed over the mounds of my breasts. Where my two nipples
protruded, two small cups, made of felt-like fabric, attempted to keep
me modest. As I stared at myself my nipples perked up and the twin
little cups rose up like tiny peaked mountains. They bared my areolas,
leaving nothing but the tips of my nipples themselves covered! Down
below my belly, meanwhile, my pubic thatch showed itself as naturally as
if I were naked. Somewhere down where my legs met, a small bit of
fabric showed. Spaghetti drawstrings crossing my waistline dipped down
to the pouch. But it was so insubstantial as to only offer itself as a
decoration. Beyond, between my squeezing thighs, I had nothing but a
string running through my cunt lips. And then, where the cheeks of my
bottom tensed together, there was another useless bit of fabric. It was
a little V-shaped morsel, more an embarassment than anything else, and
it offered, quite pointlessly, to cover the lowest bit of my asscrack.
"Did these shrink in the drier?" I asked Jasmine. She smiled.
"You wouldn't want to get your bikini wet," she assured me.
"It's made of cashmere and it would just come apart. Try not to,
well..." she smiled conspiratorially. "Don't get too excited!"
I stepped back from the mirror and adjusted the cups of my
bra. Even though the cups were the tiniest morsels of fabric
imaginable, they still worked like any other bikini cups, having string
running through their undersides. I had to tug on them to get them
centered just right over what little of me they covered. Whenever I
moved, they seemed to move too. I reached back and untied my top and
then retied it, more tightly. Hopefully that would hold them.
"Wah! This won't stay on!" Missy lamented. She was finding
her bikini as frustrating to wear as I was mine. Jasmine retied her top
and bottom for her. I did my bottoms up again and then, turning to walk
to the bathroom to get a hairbrush I liked, I felt a shivery tingle run
up inside me.
"Ooooh! This soft little string rubs me right on my clitty!" I
exclaimed. I suppose, with men in the room, I shouldn't have been quite
so descriptive, but the feeling the string made just caused me to blurt
it right out.
Jasmine laughed. Missy, who was having her bottoms tied up,
took a step, experimentally, and felt the same sensation.
"Hmmm, it must be a design flaw," Jasmine said. I glared at
her.
"Don't tell me they forgot to put in the crotch of our undies
by accident!" I said. Missy took another step. Jasmine clapped a hand
to her belly and made her hold still.
"We should go hiking in these," Missy said to me.
"Yeah, right." I replied. I wasn't too keen on having an
orgasm with every step but she seemed to like it. When Jasmine had
finished tying her up she tugged on her bottoms to make them fit into
her as snugly as possible.
"Oooh, these are so naughty," Missy said admiringly. She
pranced around the room, emitting little gasps with every step. "Are we
going to an orgy?" she asked. I think she was somehow supposing we were
dressing for breakfast in the East Wing of the building.
"Why no, dear. You're going OUT for brunch," Jasmine smiled.
"Out in public."
Missy frowned and looked at Jasmine. "Nobody is going to let
us into their restuarant dressed in these," she said. Even little Missy
wasn't naive enough to be fooled about that, her face seemed to say, as
she knitted her brows. Her tummy popped out again, teddy-bear like.
She still looked skinny even when she stuck out her tummy. Her navel
twinkled. With her hips thrust forward and her sighing tummy sticking
out, she seemed even younger than she was. She put her thumb in her
mouth, contemplatively.
I guessed the answer. "The furs," I said.
"That's right. I should call over with your measurements,"
Jasmine said. She walked over to one of the men and asked to borrow his
portable phone. He gave it to her, and she dialed somebody in the other
wing. She reported our measurements as Missy and I took little steps in
our bikinis, testing them, letting them rub us, watching our bra cups to
make sure they didn't slip off our nipples.
"I like white," Missy said, looking in the mirror at her
bikini.
"Your bikinis are white for purity," Jasmine said, returning
the phone to our suitors. "I hope you both maintain the high standards
your white bikinis imply," she added. I touched the triangle of fabric
at the base of my pubic curls and tugged on it. I wished I could pull
it up higher. What if the butler at the restaurant asked to remove my
coat?
"Jasmine," I moaned. "These swimsuits are awful. They're more
trouble than they're worth! Can't we please put on something else?"
"Up til now you've both worn bikinis for your own pleasure,"
Jasmine answered. "Here, you will wear bikinis and other things for the
pleasure of men. Don't expect them to fit, or be comfortable. They're
designed to show as much as conceal. When you've been trained, you may
wear what you wish. But until then, you're dolls, girls. Pretty little
slaves for Brent to kiss and pet and be delighted in."
"And spank too," Missy said, with open-eyed frankness, sticking
out her hips and her tummy and clapping her hands to her bottom.
"Well, dear, you DO have a reputation for being naughty,"
Jasmine said.
"I promise I'll try to reform myself!" Missy offered. Jasmine
sliced her crop through the air, just missing the girl's thighs, forcing
her to jump back.
"You're too cute to reform yourself," Jasmine smiled. "But you
may try if you wish. I'm sure we'll all appreiciate it, even if it
doesn't spare you."
I ran my fingers tenderly over my heinie. I turned and looked
at my ass in the mirror. Across the fleshy white cheeks of my bottom,
high and proud and firm, ran traces of last night's whipping. My bikini
panties, which did almost nothing to hide my fanny, made my marks look
even more ominous, as if I were just a bottom for whipping, nothing
more.
"Jasmine, please don't whip me ever again," I said. I was
quite serious. Were we not equals now, more or less? A firm gaze from
her dispelled that hope.
"You're not being whipped this morning so you can sit down like
a proper young lady when Brent takes you to brunch," Jasmine said to
me. She stuck her crop right into the front of my panties and pried
them away from my bush. I felt the loop of her long crop nesting in my
pubic hair, hungering, perhaps, to whip my pussy. "When you come back,
I'm going to have you stand in the seat of a big leather chair in the
East Wing. We'll be having our afternoon tea, the ladies and I, and you
and Missy will show us what big girls you are."
"By being whipped?" I shouted. I felt my face reddening.
"Yes, by sticking your bottom right out and not complaining and
taking your daily punishment just as you must. Brent will be so pleased
to learn of your progress when I tell him you didn't shout or whine."
"She was naughty last night. She licked my pussy and made me
cum," Missy said, pointing a finger at me. I think she supposed she
could exclude herself from my afternoon whipping if she blamed me for
something.
"You too, little one," Jasmine said. "Really, girls! What do
you think being a love slave entails?" She pulled her crop from my
panties and walked up to me and corralled both Missy and me in her
arms. Suddenly, heated from the string rubbing me so intimately, I
found myself meeting her tongue with mine and sharing a kiss. Missy,
aware of Jasmine's crop and not wanting to misbehave, stuck out her own
tongue. Suddenly we were three love birds, all cooing and sighing and
necking.
"Mmmm, such sweet dears, let me train you and you will have men
eating from the palms of your hands!" Jasmine sighed. We kissed, our
tongues exporing lightly; limning lips, delving within mouths.
Jasmine's teeth bit and held the tip of my tongue. Missy pecked my
cheek. Our hands caressed each other. The bikinis Missy and I wore
were hardly a bar to inquiring fingers. I felt Jasmine's intrude into
my cunt lips, bypassing the string there. Missy, meanwhile, ever the
devil, probed a childish finger within my fanny and found my hole.
With sighs of mounting desire we desisted at last, letting our
mouths, then our fingers retreat. Jasmine tossed her hair and regained
her composure. She still held the crop. She was clothed, though her
boobs presented us with the treat of risen nipples now, sticking up
through her t-shirt. I'd slipped a finger past the crotch of her jeans,
to pay her back for the urgency she was creating in me. Jasmine
adjusted her shorts and gave me a smile.
"You are such a sweet guest," Jasmine said. "But you truly
must not be my equal, dear. I do charge men money who bring their loves
here for training."
"Then I'm just property?" I said with a moany-sigh.
"You are your lover's property," Jasmine corrected.
"What if I don't like him anymore?" I asked. And, truly, I was
beginning to have my doubts.
"You won't like him, sometimes, but that's to be expected."
Jasmine fingered her crop and I knew she was dying to ply me with it.
Did she wish to see me scream? A flash of myself hitting her ran
through my mind and I realized with a shiver how tempting it seemed. To
control her, to make her respond to my every whim...
"I'M not Brent's proberty," Missy piped up, mangling the very
word she wished to dispute.
"You, dear child, are a little handful, and I decided to mate
you up with the nearest available male," Jasmine whispered, out of
earshot of our male admirers. "Behave or I'll give you to Larry, Moe,
and Curly," she added, with a nod toward our masturbators. I felt quite
detached from them now, as if they were just furniture. They watched us
like hungry dogs. Much as I disliked Jasmine's crop, I was glad she had
it available to keep our three hungry suitors at bay. I plucked at it
with my fingers and lifted it to my lips. As she held it steady for me,
I kissed it. I was kooky, the string, our kisses, making me wild.
"Punish me now!" I begged suddenly. I wanted to get it over
with. I couldn't bear the thought of waiting.
"No," Jasmine breathed. "Half the fun is in the waiting.
Think of it as you're sitting at brunch. Do you remember last night?"
I nodded.
"Today will be harder," Jasmine said. She did not smile. Her
face was deadly serious.
"You will hurt me!" I gasped.
"Hurt, but not harm. There is a difference, dear. Always you
must be reminded of your enslavement. Otherwise you would be just a
houseguest. Come, let's go to the East Wing. I'm sure your coats are
ready by now. I have a wonderful tailor."
Jasmine swished her crop and Missy and I, not wanting to cross
her, spun about to go find our lover. Our real lover, Brent, whom I
hoped would find a way to spare me my afternoon cropping. With wiggling
bottoms, glistening earrings dangling from our ears, our makeup just a
little mussed, Missy and I paraded past the masturbating men and headed
for my bedroom door.
"Agh! I can't stand it! They're too young! We're not
supposed to be watching this!" one of the crewcut twins declared. Missy
yelped as his jism suddenly shot forth and splattered across her leg.
"Hey! Don't pee on me!" Missy cried. She bent down and
brushed at the spurting on her leg. I pushed her forward. I could
sense more was in the offing.
"It's not pee, silly. It's sperm!" I said in a hushed voice.
Missy bounced forward as my hands shoved at the small of her back. Her
fingers, scooping up the man's sperm from her thigh, waved in front of
her face.
Jasmine, following me, frowned at the men and slashed her crop
through the air. It was a warning to the men. She didn't want to see
them spoil our swimsuits.
A naughtiness possessed me as I passed in front of our
admirers. "Tootle-oooh, men!" I called out to them, and gave them a
little wave. Suddenly, the remaining two shot off, sending spurts of
jism right across my path. A little hit my thigh but, fortunately, I
seemed to magically walk through the rest, just managing to avoid it.
Standing in the doorway to my bedroom, I looked back with tense
bottom cheeks at the three men who'd invaded and defaced my room. A
pungent odor of semen greeted my nostrils. Between each man's open legs
lay a puddle of his manhood, upon the floor, staining my nice carpet.
"Are they football players?" I asked, surprised at their sudden
loss of control.
"No," Jasmine said. "They're Sanramento District Attorneys."
"What kind of District Attorneys?" I asked. I brushed their
sperm off my leg with my fingers.
"They live in a tomato?" Missy piped up.
"Never mind," Jasmine answered us both. "They came down to
Caracas to maintain their political viability within the system. Bye
bye, boys! If you can't control yourselves in front of two little girls
don't expect me to have anything to do with you!" She slammed the door
on them. "Don't worry, I'll have Olaf clean your room before you come
back," she told me. I heard a crashing sound.
"What's that?" I asked. I cringed. It sounded as if someone
was smashing the furniture in my bedroom.
"It's Olaf. I told him if they couldn't control themselves he
could give them a free membership in NAMBLA."
"What?" I asked.
"Well, perhaps NAMBLA isn't the right word for it. SAMMLA
might be better. The South American Man Man Love Association," Jasmine
smiled.
I heard a howl from within my (former) bedroom. What were they
doing in there?
"All work and no play makes Olaf a tempermental boy," Jasmine
grinned. Her teeth were white. Wisps of her long dark hair were caught
by the breeze and sent flying out in front of her. She looked like the
world's sweetest dominatrix, standing there with her hair wild in the
wind, but she turned to my bedroom door and locked it from the outside
so our suitors couldn't escape. The wind ruffled her t-shirt and she
caught at its scissored neckline to restore it to her shoulder. "They
put fine young men in prison for having underage girlfriends, yet sit at
home downloading child pornography from the Internet!" Jasmine said
aloud. "Then, when that gets tiresome, they visit Caracas to learn
about drug interdiction, and girl interdicktion, of course. Let them
have a taste of their own medicine for a change!"
"Really, Jasmine, you shouldn't!" I pleaded. I wanted to grab
the key from her and release our three friends. After all, even cops
needed a little fun, didn't they? So what if they'd lost control of
their penises? It just meant they found me attractive!"
"I don't wish to be cruel, dear, but Olaf must be fed
sometimes," Jasmine said to me. "I don't pay him. I just let him have
a man, now and then. It keeps him happy and I do need his services."
Missy and I heard howls and cries of remorse from my cellblock-like
bedroom as the three Attorneys from the Tomato, or whatever it was, got
cornholed by Olaf.
"My daddy doesn't like lawyers," Missy offered. She looked at
me with wide eyes. I shivered as screams continued to break from within
the stone walls. I reached out to her and we hugged each other. Then
Jasmine, ever in charge of us, whistled her crop past our bottoms and
sent us walking with quick steps through the garden. The East Wing
beckoned, home of last night's orgy that left me and Missy out in the
cold, uninvited, forced to sleep by ourselves and, though I could hardly
dare to remember it, forced to drink from a toilet! My cunny whispered
to me naughtily. My little string bikini sluiced back and forth within
my dell. Every step I took sent little shivers up me. Bouncing freely,
barely contained by the string and the tiny cups, my breasts felt like
lassoed gourds. The wind blew my long hair out in front of me, making
me feel like I had a blonde halo on. Missy sought my hand. I squeezed
hers, reassuringly, even if we were doomed to have our hineys whipped.
We were going to meet Brent, my love! With my sexy bikini on, inspiring
me with my every step, I knew I would find happiness in his arms.
Stately palms lined the road. At the end of a long driveway
the Mont Vernale waited, its cuisine the best in Caracas. Our limo
pulled up and a doorman opened our door for us. Brent stepped out. He
wore a tuxedo. The restaurant permitted nothing less, even at brunch.
Missy was next, a choker of pearls round her neck. It had replaced her
collar. I wore an identical choker, four strands of pearls, tightly
bound round my throat. If you looked closely you could see that a tiny
gold lock, hanging at the back of my neck, made the choker more than
just a piece of jewelry. I could not remove it. Thankfully my fur
coat, high on my neck, kept the back of my choker from being seen.
We were quite a pair of fashion plates, I thought, as I ducked
out of the limo behind Missy. We each wore long lovely earrings. Our
hair was piled loosely atop our heads, to make us sophisticated. Our
fur coats were waist-length, leaving our legs bare. My coat barely
covered my fanny. Missy, seeing a dime on the asphalt, bent down and
carefully picked it up. Her fur coat was no more concealing than mine,
leaving her thighs completely bare, and her calves too, right down to
her five-inch spiked heels. She was a little unsteady in her shoes.
She was used to wearing sneakers. I scolded her for bending down and
took her hand.
Brent smiled at the valets. They were a little surprised to
see girls in such short coats, with bare legs, but it was warm in
Caracas and a little insouciance on the part of female attire was no
doubt permitted. Had they guessed that we wore nothing but string
bikinis underneath, I'm sure we would have been refused.
"Your coat, madam?" the butler inside the entrance asked as
Missy and I walked in. Missy, dear girl, made to open her coat, but I
caught her in time.
"They are not used to the air conditioning," Brent said to the
butler. It was chilly in here. He nodded, we passed on. The maitre d'
observed us with a stuffy gaze. His voice, when he spoke, was polite,
but a trifle condescending, as if he'd once served the Queen and now had
to earn his living less agreeably, catering to mere mortals with money.
Missy and I walked as obediently as we could, following him. The
restaurant was hushed, like the inside of a church. A string quartet
was in the center, playing soft, lyrical notes, entertaining the diners
without intruding into their conversations. Chandeliers hung at regular
intervals. Their light reflected off the silverware and fine china set
out on the tables.
Curtains of brocaded silk divided up the interior of the
restaurant. Each table could be viewed by several others yet none could
be seen by all. The diners liked their privacy, yet, dressed in pearls
and diamonds, they did not want to go completely unseen. Older ladies
dined with their husbands, exchanging the day's gossip. I saw no one as
young as myself.
I tried not to let my hips wriggle overmuch as I walked. With
my bare legs flashing, I was dressed more daringly than the other
females I saw. I bit my lip. The string between my cunny lips was
driving me wild! Missy let her bottom sway unnaturally, too childish to
constrain its movements. I knew the little cashmere string between her
legs must be tormenting her at least as mine was tormenting me. Even
the little bra, with its cups over my nipples, seemed to stimulate me.
I felt my boobies bobbing within my coat. I sighed, and knew Brent was
smirking behind me. He followed us in his tuxedo, making everything
look normal, a man with his two daughters perhaps, taking them out to
lunch.
We came to a table and the maitre d' pulled out a chair for
me. I sat. I held my coat close to my bottom as I sat down so the
maitre d' wouldn't see I was bare. My bikini hid nothing. It served
only to tantalize me. It was a teensy thong where it should have been a
pouch, a crack belt, infuriating me with my every movement, which only
made me squirm more. I glanced at Missy. Her cheeks were puffed and
she seemed ever more distracted. How could we possibly enjoy an elegant
brunch in this place when we were both steaming in our dells.
Only Brent was at ease. He watched as the maitre d' lit a
candle at our table. For a moment he looked like my father, sitting
there, and I could almost hear him saying, "Now girls, I know this is
the first time I've taken you to my club. I know you're both immature.
Please don't embarass me. Try to behave. Don't make a paper airplane
out of your napkin and try not to spill anything."
But fathers weren't quite like that, were they? I didn't know;
I spent too much time with my mom to know anything about fathers.
Fathers, I think, simply expected you to be grown up, and you were.
Mothers were always the ones warning you and berating you. I looked at
Missy with a confused look on my face. But she was no help at all. She
was eyeing her spoon and I could just imagine her making it into a
catapult.
"Do you have any strawberries?" Missy piped up.
"Strawberry pancakes?" Brent asked. I wanted to shout, 'No!
Don't! She'll shoot them at you!" but the maitre d' was standing right
there and I couldn't.
"Yes, strawberry pancakes, with LOTS of strawberries!" Missy
begged. Brent, of course, the poor innocent, was clueless.
"Whatever she wishes," he said, tugging absently on the sleeves
of his tux. The maitre d' nodded and wrote down her order.
"Would you like ham?" the maitre d' asked Missy.
"I want..." Missy paused and looked thoughtful for a moment.
"I want sausages! BIG ones!" She grinned merrily. Somehow, with a
sinking heart, I began to realize our elegant brunch was going to be a
complete disaster.
I glared at her. I was enjoying it here. I didn't want her
spoiling it with her antics. I was bigger than her. We could settle
this in a way that would get her extra smackings from Jasmine, or from
me!
Missy seemed taken aback. She shrugged her shoulders and sank
a little into her chair. The maitre d', oblivious, wrote down her
order.
"Anything else?" he asked.
"Ummm, honey. Toast and honey," Missy said. "And some ice
cream."
"Ice cream?" the maitre asked.
"Yes, for my pancakes," Missy said.
"And you, madam?" the maitre d' asked.
"An omlette," I said.
The maitre d' took down my order. Missy squirmed in her seat
and figeted. She played with her spoon. Brent ordered, something in
French that I didn't understand.
"Omlette," Missy said aloud as soon as the maitre d' left. She
was teasing me. She lifted her spoon into the air and waved it about.
"An omlette. I'll have an omlette, please!" She giggled. I glared.
Our waiter arrived, bringing us water.
"You would like an omlette?" he asked, thinking Missy wanted to
add to her order.
"Why yes. I'll have an omlette, sunny-side up," Missy said,
feigning elegance.
"Sunny side up?" the waiter asked. "An omlette,"
"Just bring her an omlette," Brent said dismissively. He
pointed at me: "And bring her what she is having," he added. "There,
now you're both getting everything. And champagne," he added. "Bring
us all some champagne."
"Yes, sir," the waiter said, scribbling. I liked him. He was
younger than the maitre d'. He was tall and slim but looked, well,
handy... He returned to our table within a minute of leaving, bearing a
tray brimming with champagne glasses and condiments. He set everything
down quickly, smoothly. I wondered if he could despatch me just as
smoothly. I would gasp and with quick fingers he would finish me off,
leave me gasping.
I slipped my arms from my sleeves and dropped them within my
coat. I was sick of my infernal panties. I wanted to have a pleasant
breakfast without moaning every time I shifted my hips. I untied the
drawstrings of my panties. I returned my arms to my coatsleeves, taking
the panties with me.
I plopped my panties onto the table beside my plate. Brent
looked at me.
"Hi darling," I smiled. My voice was sweet. Missy thought I
was teasing him. Our waiter came with our food, glanced down. I saw
his eyes gazing at my little pile of string and cloth next to my spoon.
The string was damp where it had threaded my nest. Gracefully he put
down my omlette, then my pancakes.
Missy, not wanting to be any less daring than me, buried her
arms in her coat. As the waiter laid down her plates her hand suddenly
returned to her coat sleeve, bearing the fruit of her reconnaisance; her
undies. She dropped them onto the table. The waiter noticed. I saw
him miss a breath and I wondered if he guessed all our secrets.
Brent looked at me, at Missy. Our waiter bustled off.
"Try not to embarrass me, girls," Brent said. "They do have
statutory rape laws her in Caracas."
"Oooh, you mean you might go to jail?" Missy said. She reached
out with her fingers and played with her panties.
"No, but you might get spanked if you misbehave," Brent warned
her. "Stop playing with your panties." He reached out and took them
from her. He put them into the pocket of his tuxedo.
"A string is dangling down," I said.
"Hmmm?" Brent asked. But our waiter returned just then,
bringing fruit. Grapefruit and pineapple and orange slices, all piled
up on a tray. Brent nodded, unaware that a string connected to Missy's
underpants was hanging out of the pocket of his tuxedo.
The waiter left again. Missy sipped her champagne. I drank
mine and enjoyed the flow of little bubbles running down my throat.
They settled into my tummy. Missy, intrigued by the idea of staging a
strip show for our waiter, drew her arms into her coat once more. Brent
tried to stop her, but our waiter reappeared and refilled our champagne
glasses. As he turned to leave Missy's hands popped from the sleeves of
her coat again, bringing up her bra this time, and she laid it onto the
table. The waiter, a perplexed look on his face, turned and left.
"Missy, you're going to get spanked extra hard for that," Brent
said.
"But Brent, you're going to have Jasmine spank us anyway when
we get home," I said. I pouted and my own arms disappeared inside my
coat. I shifted my breasts forward, arching my back, and reached behind
myself and untied my bra. I liked having it off. It kept tickling my
nipples. Now, perhaps, I could enjoy my meal. I slipped my arms back
into my sleeves and laid my bra beside my bottoms.
Brent looked at my little bikini, laid in a tangled pile next
to my silverware. He gulped, shifted his hips. Was he at last feeling
a little discomfited? Good. It was all his fault, anyway. He should
have let us wear dresses and blouses to brunch, instead of naughty
bikinis.
Missy picked up a pitcher of syrup. I thought she was going to
pour it on her pancakes but, instead, she hovered the lip of the syrup
pitcher over her bosom.
Brent, who sat between Missy and I, with she and I facing each
other across the table, shot his gaze from me to her. Missy grinned at
him. She poured the syrup into her coat.
"Oooh! I seemed to have spilled something!" she said with a
high, spoilt voice. I watched in disbelief as she poured the syrup over
her bosoms.
Our waiter returned. He brought us slices of watermelon. He
seemed solicitous of our appetites. He wished that we should lack
nothing. Missy drew her coat closer. Her syrupy bosom could not be
seen within the closely held halves of her coat. She poured syrup on
her pancakes.
The waiter left. I decided to eat my toast while it was hot.
I buttered it. Then I lifted up the bottle of honey to squeeze some on
my toast. I glanced at Brent. He was grinning at Missy, bemused,
admiring her daring. She had entranced him. He liked her mischievous
ways.
I held the squeeze bottle of honey between the tips of my
fingers. I didn't like losing my boyfriend to Missy. I was going to
put the honey on my toast but, suddenly, I put it over my chest.
"Do you think I'm sweet, Brent?" I asked. He turned his head
to me. Liberally I squeezed the bottle of honey and it spurted a stream
of itself into my coat. I felt it splash onto my breasts. It felt like
Missy's lollipop. I kept squirting as the sticky goo ran down to the
tips of my nipples inside my coat.
Missy decided she must not be outdone. There was a plastic
bottle of Hershey's syrup on our table, for her ice cream pancakes. She
picked it up and squirted it down inside her coat. "I'm getting gooder
all the time," she said with an invitational smile to Brent. "Would you
like to give me a licking?"
Brent was both pleased and displeased. He desperately didn't
want to be embarassed by us, yet seeing us squirt ourselves down with
the condiments was making him hard. He shifted in his chair, yet it
offered him no relief. I picked up the chilled bottle of whipped cream
that the waiter had brought for our strawberries. I scooted my chair
back a little and dropped it down to the level of my legs. Daintily,
with Brent's eyes gazing in aroused horror, I lifted the front of my
coat and spread my legs. I aimed the can of whipped cream at my pussy.
I looked at Brent and smiled. I depressed the top of the can. A
squirting rush came to my ears. I gasped as a spurt of whipped cream
struck my dell. It was cold! I bit my lower lip, squirted some more,
and then replaced my coat. I put the can back up on the table. Let
Missy top that!
Missy reached for her own can of whipped cream. It was, like
mine, a miniature can, offered by Redi-Whip to restaurants to promote
its brand name. It was housed in a little bucket of ice and Missy's
eyes glowed as she grabbed for it. Fortunately, Brent found his wits
and grabbed her wrist just as she picked up the can.
"No, Missy," he said. He drew the can from her fingertips.
"I need it for my strawberries!" Missy whined.
"I'll squirt it," Brent replied. He put the whipped cream on
her strawberries liberally, hoping to empty the can. Missy watched,
pouting, frowning, and crossed her arms. When Brent was done he
replaced the whipped cream in the bucket. Missy grabbed it and put it
down between her legs.
The waiter appeared. "May I take any of your plates?" he
asked. Missy did not see him.
SPLURT!
Missy gasped. "Ooooh! That's cold!" she squeaked. Then,
realizing we had company, she looked up at the waiter, guiltily. Stray
locks from her chestnut coiffure fell into her eyes. "I was just
playing," she whispered contritely.
"Oh! May I get you a napkin?" the waiter asked helpfully. He
did not understand.
"Noooo," Missy murmured. She replaced the can in the bucket.
"I could use some more whipped cream, though. This one's almost out."
"She'd like a bib," Brent scowled. The waiter, at last, caught
on a little (hopefully no more) and nodded politely.
Several of our plates were removed. Missy picked up her glass
of orange juice and gurgled it down noisily. Besides our champagne we
had hot chocolate and the juice, or anything else we wished. Brent
nursed a cup of coffee. The establishment, I guessed, charged an
extravagant price for brunch, and could afford to shower us with food.
When the waiter left Brent dipped a hand into his tux and drew
out a handkerchief. I could see it was concealing something. "You
girls have been very naughty," he said quietly. He handed me the
handkerchief and I accepted it.
"I want one too!" Missy piped up. Her eyes were wide. She was
like a younger sibling, always afraid of being left out. I opened my
handkerchief. Handcuffs! I felt my throat constrict.
"Put them on," Brent said somberly.
"Brent! You wouldn't--" I was having such a nice meal, albeit
a messy one. He looked at me with his hard, demanding eyes, the ones
that made my heart skip beats. I'd never had a father. Not to speak
of, anyway. I couldn't refuse. If he'd been a woman I'd have said
'no,' but I couldn't refuse that scowling, unshaved jaw, stubbled like a
pirate's or a prisoner's. He had prisoner's eyes, too. Were we not
illegal? Yet he owned us. He owned us and our furs and the food in our
bellies and the risque bikinis we'd worn into the restaurant.
I drew the handcuffs into the sleeve of my coat. Brent passed
a handkerchief parcel to Missy so she could be just like me. She
accepted it, poor child. She was desperate not to be outdone by me,
even if it meant her doom.
I'd noticed that the handcuffs Brent had given me were
connected by a long chain. I guessed why, now, reaching behind myself
and snapping on the first cuff. The chain allowed enough room for my
cuffed hand to secure my uncuffed hand. Looking at Brent, feeling my
hunger for him rise within my creamed, slitted womb, I snapped the
second handcuff into place.
"Very good," Brent said to me. His eyes smoldered. Mine
showed fear, resignation, and a tinge of love. Did I wish it any other
way? He'd promised a spanking for me. Jasmine had promised it, and she
was fierce. I felt a new sensation in my bottom, a memory of last
night's whipping, gone now, except in my mind, mixed with the tension
and fear of a new assault. The seat, warm and soft, was meant to offer
me the ultimate comfort. Yet I would abandon it and follow Brent home,
where I would be displayed and forced to suffer. I yanked on my
handcuffs. The chain snapped taut, offered me no escape. I yanked
again. My wrists banged within the grasping steel of the handcuffs.
Yes, I was his prisoner now. Fully, completely. Unless, that is, I
chose to be a tattletale. I could tell all to the maitre d' and be
flying home on the next plane, back to my real home, back to L.A.
I set my teeth. Brent watched me do it. He saw my
determination, he smiled wanly at my cupid face. I was an angel. I was
a lover. I was a prisoner.
A raw metal click announced Missy's own imprisonment.
"I'm trapped!" she realized. She had locked herself in without
understanding the consequences. "How do I unlock this?"
"You don't," Brent said.
"The bib, sir," our waiter announced, returning suddenly.
"I don't want to wear a bib!" Missy proclaimed. Diners looked
up from their meals. Like explorers in a cave they gazed uncertainly,
into the darkness of ignorance but finding small gleams of knowledge.
Was the girl not too big for a bib? Yet perhaps she'd been difficult.
The bib was meant as a threat to control her.
"The bib will not be needed. She's agreed to behave," Brent
told our waiter.
"No I haven't!" Missy contradicted. The waiter withdrew,
letting us settle the matter ourself. He left the bib on the table,
beside Missy's undies. Did he know they were undies? I could not tell.
Brent finished his breakfast. It was odd sitting there,
watching him eat, unable to eat myself. My arms were pinned behind me
now, inside the confines of my coat. Nobody knew, nobody guessed. My
nipples were sticky. They felt like they were adhering themselves to
the inside of my coat as the honey on them dried. Would my nipples be
ripped from my chest when I stood up? I was wet all down my tummy, with
honey drippings and chocolate syrup. From the neck up I was a picture
of politeness, with dazzling earrings, perfect hair, and sensational
makeup. Yet between my thighs I was wet with oozing whipped cream. I
felt decadent. Brent finished his meal and rose. He drew out Missy's
chair. She was quiet. She was a brat, not a tattletale. She would not
betray our captivity. Brent came to my place and helped me up.
I walked with expansively swaying hips through the restaurant.
I could not help myself. I was being taken home to be spanked. I was
going to get it. My bottom rubbed against the soft inside of my coat,
uknowing, comfortable. Yet my mind was a whirl of confusion. I should
tell! I should run! But how humiliating to be discovered naked under
my fur coat, and handcuffed, and messy with cream and chocolate and
honey. And all put there by me, little guiltless me, except nobody
would believe I was guiltless. They'd say I was, of course. They'd be
politically correct in speaking to me. But behind my back they'd say,
"Such little tramps those two were! Imagine! Messing themselves like
that!"
Missy wriggled exceedingly as she walked. She was frightened,
frisky, a girl compassing between the known and the unknown. How hard
would Jasmine hit us? Would we really be made to stand before ladies,
at tea? I almost opted to blurt out my fate just then, passing the
maitre d'. Yet it would be a private humiliation, between lovers. Only
a few would know. It would not be on the evening news, with my name
blocked out but all my friends knowing. My mom knowing. "Here's your
daughter, ma'am," the F.B.I. man would say. "We found her in Caracas.
She was staying with a man who kept her as a pet and..."
I curled my fingers around the underside of my coat, in back.
To get a grip. To reassure myself. Did the maitre d' see my fingers?
Did he wonder why I had my hands inside my coat, and behind me, with my
fingertips sticking out and curled round the fur trim of my coat? I did
not know whether our coats were real or artificial, but they were fur on
fur, blonde fur surrounded by a lighter fur trim. Probably they were
ersatz, I concluded. Missy and I were still a bit too irresponsible for
real fur. Perhaps Brent would buy us real fur coats when we parted,
when we'd proven ourselves to him, that we were real women and not just
little brats.
Would there be a parting? I speculated on that, passing out of
the restaurant. I wanted to glance back over my shoulder. Had I left a
trail of drips behind me? It felt like the cream on my pussy was
dripping. I hoped not. Brent made me so ecstatic, but he was fierce,
under his smooth demeanor. His control-oriented nature appealed to me,
yet would it always? Surely I must be free sometime. But now, just
now, I was his. Myself, and Missy too, probably, unless I could rid
myself of her. He liked having two of us. It made him King. Had he
seen her and requested her? Had he heard her sobbing screams somehow,
and asked for her?
"I have to go to the bathroom," Missy confided to Brent as he
halted us. We were out of the restaurant now, thankfully, and under the
end of a tented entryway. A valet saw us and hurried off for our limo.
"When we get home," Brent said.
"I have to go NOW," Missy whined. "Unlock me."
"No," Brent answered.
"I'll pee in the car," Missy warned.
"We'll see about that," Brent replied.
I rode sitting on the way back. I was cuffed, sitting
barebottomed on the car's leather seat. I could feel the leather
adhering itself to my ass. It would sting a little when I stood up,
like my nipples stung when, on rising, I forcibly detached their honeyed
tips from the inside of my coat. But I was better off than Missy. She
rode lying over Brent's lap. Barelegged, bare-bottomed, she was forced
to present him with her naked wriggling ass all the way home. She
begged to pee but he refused.
"You're putting on quite a show," Brent smirked at Missy.
"Oooh! Let me up! I need to pee and I don't like lying on my
tummy! Quit sticking your finger in my hole!" Missy begged. Brent just
laughed. I laughed. She looked absolutely silly lying with her fanny
all exposed, her feet tossing in the air and her legs kicking. Yet her
hands were fastened within the cuffs, trapping her, and Brent, oiling
his finger with his spit, was entertaining himself by plunging his digit
in Missy's anus. She dared not misbehave too much or he'd go deeper
with his finger, or try penetrating her with two, or three. She was
forced to accept him in her butthole and offer only pleading
resistance. She might have kicked at his chin with her heel but she
would have instantly found her guts impaled. Like a man drilling for
oil, Brent eased his finger in and out of her, enjoying his power over
her, the fear he induced.
"Do you have to pee on my pants leg, minx? Hmmmm? Go ahead,
pee! Here, let me tickle your cunny!"
"Oh no sir please, stop! Don't! I weally WILL pee! Ack!"
And so our ride proceeded. Missy was getting her comeuppance
now, for all her mishcief at brunch. Yet, as we neared our destination,
Brent thought of a way to punish me too.
"Open your legs," he told me. I obeyed. Sitting there, on the
seat with my arms trapped behind me, I felt desperately vulnerable.
Exposing my slit to him only made it worse. Yet there was nothing I
could do. "Eat her," Brent told Missy. "Lick up all that whipped cream
on her pussy!"
"Oh, no! PLEASE! I don't like eating girls! I--" Brent took
Missy's face and manhandled it into my dell. To keep her ever-compliant
he rammed his finger to its deepest point yet in her butthole.
I gasped and heaved my chest forward as little Missy's tongue
delved within me. I heard a soft lapping sound and looked down, wishing
she wasn't there, yet unable to escape her. She mooed and moaned and
pleaded, but Brent made her lick me clean. When at last he allowed her
to raise her face a little I saw her mouth was circled with cream.
Missy licked her lips. Perhaps she had a sweet tooth after all.
"Alright you two, time to get out!" Brent told us. Our limo
entered Jasmine's property. We were safe again, free to play out our
games without anyone knowing. Yet we were at our most vulnerable, Missy
and I, for we were the game. We were the pieces and Brent was our
Chessmaster.
We trooped within the house. We were taken into a parlor.
Brent admitted us himself. He was happy, ushering us along, happy like
a man who owns property and enjoys doing with it what he pleases. He
wiped his finger with his handkerchief so it wouldn't betray traces of
Missy's shit.
Within the parlor Jasmine sat with two other women. They were
mid-30's, perhaps, young like she yet dignified. Old enough to be
amused by what happened to us, yet still in the bloom of youth, pleasing
Brent with their bodies if they chose to disrobe. At the moment they
were fashionably dressed. One wore a sweater, unbuttoned, over a pretty
dress. She had glasses but had put them aside on the coffee table. The
other had on a skirt and blouse. Long strands of pearls hung casually
down over her bosoms. They made her look casual but expensive. Jasmine
wore slacks. They were dress slacks, smooth and dark brown. She wore a
beige blouse and a tan neckerchief. I might have thought I was at some
conservative women's luncheon, except I was barelegged and cuffed.
Jasmine rose as we entered. She approached me first and
unbuttoned my fur. Opening it, she saw the mess I'd made of myself at
lunch. She gasped. The other two women gazed at me and then laughed.
She opened up Missy next. She removed our coats and called the butler
to come and hang them. She did nothing about our handcuffs.
"Poor dear. Even your face is messy," Jasmine said to Missy.
She dipped the corner of a napkin into her tea and wiped Missy's mouth
with it.
"Brent made me--" Missy began, but Jasmine hushed her. Her
finger pressed itself to Missy's lips. She was gentle, yet her next
words chilled me. "Go stand on that big leather chair, darling,"
Jasmine urged Missy.
"But won't you--?" Missy began. Jasmine took her by her pinned
arms and walked her to the chair. In her confusion, Missy did not
finish her sentence. Jasmine tugged off the girl's pumps. Then Jasmine
bent and lifted Missy's thigh and made her step up onto the chair.
Missy's feet planted themselves in the seat. It squished down under her
weight. Her adorable bottom hung its cheeks before our eyes.
The woman with the sweater and the long pretty dress rose from
her chair. She wafted over to Missy. With a concerned look in her
eyes, yet with implacable hands, she forced Missy's wrists up off her
bulging little bottom cheeks. The woman, whom I later learned was named
Kerri, pressed Missy's hands into the small of her back. Drawing a
leather cord from her sweater, she bound Missy's upraised wrists to the
back of her pearl choker.
"Don't break the strands of pearls or it will be worse for
you," Jasmine told Missy.
"But what are you going to do to me?" Missy bawled. She was
shivering and her peaked, honey-tipped breasts were shaking. With her
arms yanked back and high on her spine, bound quite implacably, she
offered her bosoms to the wall. It was an obscene vista, this poor
milkmaid of a girl presenting her full young bosoms. Kerri slipped into
the space behind the chair and, having made Missy present her mammaries,
she took hold of them. Kerri kissed each of Missy's nipples in turn.
"Ooooh, your buds taste like honey!" Kerri smiled.
"Quit licking my boobies!" Missy complained.
"I'm afraid this is a lesbian luncheon, dear," Jasmine said to
Missy. She patted the girl's bottom and smiled over Missy's shoulder at
Kerri. "I'm going to swat this precious little ass of yours until its
wigglier than you can imagine. Then I'm going to cup it with my hands
and you're going to roll it on my palms, letting me feel all the little
tensions and spasms in your tushy. I see Brent's already been playing
with you a little, from this trace of shit in your ass crack. Bring me
a napkin, Leslie, so I can wipe her."
The woman with the long strands of pearls rose from her own
chair, putting down her tea first, on the low coffeetable the three of
them had been sharing. I saw a book on the table. "Lost Loves, The
Shame of America's Anti-Gay Policies," it said. Beside it was a book of
poems. "Little Clits," its no-nonsense title proclaimed. A tassled
bookmark with hearts lay between the chapbook and the treastise.
Jasmine wiped Missy's bottom. "Oh boo hoo!" Missy cried,
standing in the chair, her breasts held by Kerri and Jasmine and Leslie
attending to her ass. But what about me? I was next. I knew I was
next. I had to stand and watch her suffer and then take her place, all
for the women's aimless amusement. It was midafternoon, a time of
boredom and invented games to pass the time. I looked at Brent.
"Must I?" I asked him. He nodded. "Oh, don't make me!" I
begged.
"Why?" he asked.
"Because I love you!" I sighed.
"Then obey me," he replied. He looked away from me and stood
admiring Missy's ass. Jasmine was kissing it, soft little kissed.
Beside her Leslie had picked up a crop off a lamp table and was testing
its flex. With her hands she bent it, then let go of one end and let it
snap back to rigidity.
"This should leave nice marks," Leslie said to Jasmine.
"It will give her something to be proud of," Jasmine agreed.
"I always liked showing off my marks after a whipping when I was a teen,
didn't you?"
"MmmmHmmm," Leslie agreed. "Though now I prefer having the
whip hand."
"There is more work involved in being mistress, though,"
Jasmine said. She lifted her face from Missy's bottom and patted it
with her hand.
"I'LL be mistress!" Missy piped up.
"Shhhh, or you'll be gagged!" Kerri, squeezing her breasts,
answered.
"You'd just dance around and act silly and whack without even
aiming," Jasmine replied. "A young girl submits first, Missy. Only
then may she lead." On the lamp table a bottle of Alpha-Keri lotion
waited to be smoothed on Missy's bottom. Beside it, in a little pile,
were condoms, no doubt for Brent. They were wrapped in gold foil.
Would he have our bottoms, encased in them? I looked at him again. His
trousers sported a tent now. I longed for him but he was gazing at
Missy's ass.
"Hold her," Jasmine said to Kerri.
"I've got her by the breasts," Kerri smiled.
"I want you all whipped," Brent said. Jasmine, just accepting
the crop from Leslie, looked back at my lover.
"Would you like that, Brent?" Jasmine asked. She flexed the
crop between her fists.
"Yes," Brent said. "Take off your pants. Have your friends
take off their skirts. And your panties. Roll up your blouses so I can
watch your bare ass as you whip hers." He nodded at Missy. The girl
was sobbing now, but nobody was paying attention.
"There are many hours 'til evening," Jasmine said, thinking
aloud to herself, enjoying the repartee. "We will have an orgy this
evening, of course, but a little fun now shouldn't spoil it." She eyed
Brent. Her gaze lowered itself to his trousers. "If we play victim for
you, you must play victim for us," Jasmine said.
"O.K.," Brent replied.
"No, my dear, think on it a moment. We will own your body and
do with it what we please. You will not complain, and you will not
disobey."
"O.K.," Brent said, as nonchalant as before.
"The young man wants it," Leslie smiled. She had Jasmine's
fiery eyes. She licked her lips and looked uncompromisingly at Brent's
crotch. "You know it will involve the penis," she told Brent.
"And the testicles," Kerri suggested.
"Yes, the penis and the testicles, YOUR penis and testicles,
young man. That's what we'll concentrate on, and we'll be giving just
as good as we got. Do you really want to see our bottoms cropped?"
Brent paused a moment. I knew then that he wanted to back out
but his manly ego prevented it. He swallowed. "Okay," he said.
"Very good. He has sworn to it and pledged his penis," Jasmine
said to her friends. "Off with your panties and dresses, girls! We're
not going to be able to sit after this, but he won't be able to sit or
to stand!" Like witches they laughed then, sending shivers right down
my spine to my tailbone. Poor Missy was weeping. Kerri unhanded her to
undress. Missy tried to step down from the chair.
"Stay up there, girl!" Jasmine said. She slapped Missy's ass
hard with her palm.
"YAHOOOO!" Missy howled. She rose up on her toes. With her
feet in the seat of the chair and her face arched toward the ceiling,
she looked like a schoolgirl caught out by the teacher. But her wrists
were trussed up high behind her, making her boobies stick out. No
teacher, however depraved, would do that. These were sexual games, not
schoolroom punishments. Missy, with her honeyed tits quaking and her
bottomcheeks tensing, would be just the first of our victims. Indeed,
by afternoon's end all of us would be hurting.
The females hurried out of their clothes. There seemed to be
an electricity between the ladies, as if a promised course of events had
borne all the fruit they hoped it might. Or perhaps they were just
afraid of Brent. After all, he was a big man. He scowled at them,
unhappy with the terms he struck. Yet his penis, I thought, seemed to
be ever bigger within his trousers. I watched it grow. It made my slit
juicy.
Jasmine and Kerri and Leslie bared their asses to Brent but
left their tops on. That was the deal they'd struck. It preserved a
bit of their modesty. Jasmine, though, dutifully rolled up the backs of
their blouses so that Brent could see their bottoms all he wished. She
pinned her friends' blouses up with hair pins plucked from her lovely
dark har. Kerri, having no blouse but a sweater, stripped it off first,
then donned it again after removing her dress. She kept her back turned
while she was naked so that Brent couldn't see her boobs. The ladies
liked being coy. I meanwhile, was forced to stand in the altogether,
showing my bush, my ass, my boobs. It made me feel wet, being stripped
naked and shown like this. To console myself in my excitement, I bent
my chin down and began licking honey and chocolate off my chest. I felt
warm, passionate. I wanted. I did not want to wait, even if it hurt.
"No! Oh please, no!" Missy begged. Kerri seized her breasts
once more. She was bare-assed as her victim now, wearing only her fuzzy
sweater, her dress a crumpled pile on a chair. Jasmine strutted behind
Missy, taking up the crop again and swishing it ominously through the
air.
"She should be nice and bouncy," Leslie observed, eyeing
Missy's ass.
"Oh, she will be absolutely darling," Jasmine replied. "She'll
show us her ass like she's never shown it to anyone. Do you have to pee
too, dear?"
"Yes," Missy sobbed. She had her thighs tightly together and
she'd been moving her hips in little urgent circles ever since mounting
the chair.
"Well, don't pee in it," Jasmine warned.
"Oh, all I want to do is go pee and go home!" Missy declared.
"Shhh," Kerri replied. She bit one of Missy's nipples with her
teeth. A light little bite, but if Missy jerked suddenly it might prove
worse.
"Let's see you jiggle that ass, honey!" Jasmine smiled. She
struck. Hard. Missy shouted and threw her face toward the ceiling.
Her mouth gasped open and her chest heaved forward. Kerri bit at her
boobs. Missy's asscheeks contracted under the blow and then rebounded
reflexively. It looked as if twin marshmellow halves were being forced
in along a central line and then allowed to rise, as if in an oven; cake
dough rising in the heat.
"WaHOOOOO!" Missy stamped her feet in the seat of the chair and
sobbed bitterly. I tensed my own ass, watching. I would be next and
Jasmine would be no less severe with me. If anything, I'd get it
worse. I was older and, in her estimation, I could take more.
"Please Brent," I said, turning to him again. I bowed my
knees, indicating my need. I wanted him, just him. I didn't need these
stupid games. He grinned at me sardonically.
"I'm a man of many tastes," he replied.
"You're a pervert!" I hissed.
"Your ass will sing for that," he said. He unzipped himself
and drew out his penis. He did not fear, I guess, the torture the
ladies had planned for it.
Jasmine paused and looked at Brent. "Don't cum," she warned
him. "You will endure our punishment more easily if your cock still
longs for pleasure."
"I'll do as I please," Brent said. He began masturbating
himself. I felt shocked, watching him. Didn't he want me? He didn't
need to play with himself! I felt like dropping to my knees and sucking
him but I was repelled by the ease with which he dismissed me and
pleasured himself with the sight of Missy's ass.
"I hate you," I told Brent. He ignored me. Men! Why do they
think of nothing but their penises? The world would be much better, I
think, and men would be much better too, if men didn't have penises.
But then, of course, they wouldn't be men and...
"YEEEARGH!" Missy howled. Jasmine was striking her with
languid blows, each given after the girl had finished her dancing from
the one before. They were hard when they came. Hard and swift and
fast, but the interval inbetween was a time of pausing, of waiting, of
sips of tea and bites of crumpets. I was offered tea and accepted.
Jasmine poured it into my mouth for me. She tickled my nest.
"Delicious," I heard Kerri say. I looked past Jasmine and saw
she was playing with Missy's slit. Leslie frigged herself and Jasmine,
after tickling me, fondled herself.
"Ohhh, please don't," Missy sobbed. She had to pee badly and
Kerri's tickling only made it worse. Missy squeezed her cheeks and her
breath hissed. Even tensing her bottom made it hurt now. Thin blazing
stripes crossed her behind. They were almost weals, but not quite.
"Another blow across any of those lines and she'll be wealed
for sure," Leslie observed.
"Then I'll have to aim carefully, won't I?" Jasmine called
out. She fingered my pussy as freely as if she were a nurse and I were
her patient. "Poor little Missy! Are you afraid I won't be careful
enough in my aiming? Don't jump around, dear, or you'll be sorry!"
Jasmine looked at me and smiled. "Do you have to pee?" she
asked.
"A little," I answered truthfully. "Then you must have more
tea," Jasmine said. "I want you absolutely bursting when I put you up
on the chair."
"No, please," I said, but she fetched the teapot and made me
drink three whole cups. Brent observed me. He made sure I did just as
Jasmine insisted. The other girls watched too. They liked seeing me
prepared for my fate. The preparatons of it were almost as much fun for
them as the doing of it.
"Let's finish this little tart off," Jasmine said when she'd
made me drink all I could and returned to Missy. With hissing strokes
she did her best to mark Missy in new places on her bottom. Missy
howled and pleaded, but there was no mercy. Her chubby bottom was
sliced up, leaving her looking like a tomato in back, blazing under the
heat of the lash.
"My such a fine shot I've been," Jasmine observed. Missy
jiggled her poor huddled cheeks, sobbing on Kerri's shoulder as the
woman tried to keep her as still as she could by mouthing the girl's
tits.
"You're no fun at all. You've been at this too long!" Leslie
observed. "Let me hit her. I'm sure I'll miss and strike one of her
marks."
"No, I'll do it deliberately," Jasmine answered. "I've got a
weal for you, dear Missy. Hold on tight!" Jasmine called. She struck
the girl hard where she'd been before, laying a stroke right over a
previous line. She hit the underside of Missy's bottom. She'd feel it
most there. Missy threw her head back and howled like a banshee.
Kerri, forever consoling her, fed at her nipples. Missy's tummy
expanded, teddy bear-like, then contracted as she drew in her
bottomcheeks. But she could not contain them for long, and they bounced
out again, shaking and saucily showing themselves.
"Ooooh, feel!" Jasmine said to Leslie. But Leslie could not
get at the girl for Jasmine placed her own palms there, right on Missy's
little ass, feeling the warmth of the blows. Missy danced and bounced
in Jasmine's hands. Her bottom rolled. Jasmine let her shake her hinds
against her palms and announced to us that it felt delightfully obscene.
"Poor little baby! You act like you've sat in a nest of
hornets!" Jasmine teased. Missy bawled and finally hung her head,
defeated. Jasmine had Leslie squirt lotion onto her hands and then she
palmed Missy's bottom again, letting the girl grind her poor smarting
ass into the soothing lotion on her palms. It was a truly decadant
sight. Missy mouthed at the air, her eyes shut tight, her cheek resting
on Kerri's shoulder. She offered her behind in brazen desperation to
Jasmine's palms. A little while ago the girl would have balked at
letting Jasmine handle her bottom, yet now she desired it, urgently, and
felt no qualms about shoving her ass into Jasmine's seeking hands.
I tensed my own bottom, watching. I could not bear this.
There must be some way out. I watched as Jasmine, bored at last with
Missy's gyrations, opened her cheeks and stuck her thumb into Missy's
hole.
"Oh! Yes! Please!" Missy cried. She did not mind being
cornholed now. Any attention was helpful. With lotion-slicked fingers
Jasmine fucked little Missy's asshole. The girl simply accepted it,
even needed it, while in front Kerri teased her clit, stopping only when
Missy tensed on the brink of orgasm. Cumming was not permitted. Even
the ladies teased themselves only to the edge. All else must wait,
until the punishments were done.
Missy was taken down from the chair. Jasmine had pumped her
ass and spanked her bottom. Nothing else was required of her for now.
Brusquely she was shunted aside, and they came for me.
"Ohhhh! I hurt very much!" Missy bawled. She stood bereft.
The ladies ignored her. Tensing her thighs together, she suddenly peed
on the carpet.
"Missy! Bad girl!" Jasmine declared. She slapped Missy's
face. "Go stand in the corner, you naughty girl!" Crying, Missy was
led by Leslie into a corner of the room. Leslie drew the girl along
with a finger crooked into her lovely pearl choker, using it as a
collar. Leslie faced Missy into the corner and let her stand there,
hollaring over the state of her bottom, her breasts thrust forward, her
wrists pinned high behind her, the cheeks of her ass clenched and
churning and shaking, red as beets.
"Do you have to pee?" Jasmine asked me. I stood before the
chair, ready to mount. The seat dipped slightly where Missy's feet had
weighed upon it.
"Pretty much," I replied. I was truthful. There was no
denying myself to Jasmine. My body was bare and she could see all my
tensings.
"Drink more," Jasmine urged. Leslie fetched the teapot and I
was served another cup.
"I'll pee on your carpet," I protested, but Jasmine poured the
tea through my lips and I was forced to swallow it, lest it be spilt.
"Now up on the chair, dear," Jasmine said. She cupped the
cheeks of my bottom and urged me up upon it. The big cushioned seat
sighed. My toes squirmed on its leather. Some of the whipped cream and
honey on Missy had dripped to the surface of the seat and it was slick
there.
"Mmmm, nice," Kerri said, grasping my tits and squeezing them.
"God, what a great ass!" Leslie remarked. I was on display
now, presenting my white bottom. I drew in my cheeks and they whistled
at me. I felt like a treasure put up for auction. Except the crowd was
nothing but vandals.
"She'll feel delicious when we've warmed her up," Jasmine
said. She palmed my cheeks. "I'm going to toast these lovely bottoms
of yours, Kelly!" she said to me. Her voice was happpy. I tried to
draw myself away from her and she laughed. "You won't be so modest when
I've switched you up," she told me.
Kerri fingered my dell. "Don't hesistate to pee," she
whispered to me. "The last one is always permitted to pee in the
chair. Go on my hand when you do it!" I blanched. I had to pee, but
now that she'd asked me to go on her I felt a sudden recalcitrance.
Like when you're a small girl and you decide to pee in the pool, and
then suddenly can't because you're wearing your swimsuit. You agree
with yourself to go, secretly, so you don't have to quit playing. But
your bladder just won't let go. Kerri saw my recalcitrance and tickled
my nest. "Don't worry, I'll help you," she confided. "Just think of
yourself in a waterfall, then you'll pee. Do it on my hand and I'll
make them stop whipping you! I promise!" Her eyes glowed at me. She
bent and kissed my tummy. "You are so sweet," she said. "I hate to see
you marked but it won't hurt too much, I hope. We can sleep together
afterward."
Jasmine, meanwhile, had fetched ointment and was polishing up
her leather riding crop. She wanted it to sting as much as it could,
she said. While she prepared her implement Leslie went to Brent and
checked on the condition of his cock. "Soon we'll begin with you, sir,"
she said very meekly to him, but under her meekness I sensed the
attitude of a lioness. She was hungry for his cock and, worse, she was
hungry to do awful things to it and see his reaction. Brent was so hard
by now he'd wisely ceased pleasuring himself. He was on a hair trigger,
ready to cum. He drew back from Leslie's seeking hands but she would
not be denied. She grasped his organ and gave it a quick inspection.
They had not met before today. They did not even know each other's last
names.
"You're one of the biggest males I've seen," Leslie said
frankly. She handled his balls and yanked his cock up toward his
stomach. "Is the underside of the penis the most sensitive part?" she
asked.
"Don't you know?" Brent replied.
"I like women, mostly," Leslie answered. "But if a man is big
enough I suppose I can get interested. I like the challenge of a big
cock, you know? Sometimes its hard to get it in me, I fuck so little
with men." She kissed the underside of my lover's penis. "Yes, I see
how you flinch," she said. "You shouldn't have rubbed yourself so much,
sir. Now you're on the brink, and I'm not even ready yet. We'll start
your punishment here, I think, where you're most sensitive. Have you
ever had it put in a vise?"
"A vise?" Brent gasped.
"Yes, a vise, darling. I heard you were coming so I borrowed
one this morning from my friend. She runs a carpentry store. I have it
in my purse. I'll set it up on the lamp table and we can put you in it
so you'll behave and not cause any trouble." She gazed at his body.
"Such big muscles! They look like they'll rip right out of your tux!
Please undress now, we'll be ready soon. I wouldn't want your tux
stained or anything. Ohhh! You're dripping! Don't drip pre-cum on my
hand, sir! I'm a lesbian, remember? You'll have to receive extra
punishments for that, you naughty boy!" She shook his cock, like she
was shaking a hand, then turned and left. As she walked away from him
she purposely waggled her ass. "Remember darling, no fucking. We're
lesbians! When we're through with you you can dispose of your seed in
Missy or Kelly."
Brent was beside himself. I knew he was not the least bit
interested in having his penis punished, yet he tore off his tux like a
madman. Girls were easy for him. Missy, myself. But these lesbians,
promising to do awful things to his cock, were another matter entirely.
Like a schoolboy asked to pork the teacher after class he undressed
himself and then followed Leslie over to where she stood by the lamp
table.
Leslie had begun emptying her purse onto the lamp table. She
looked up at Brent as if he was new in the room, a new arrival and she
some kind of customs official. "That side," she said, pointing to the
side of the lamp table opposite her. "Jasmine's decided she wants you
punished at the same time as Kelly, so you and she can watch each
other. You'll be bonded after this, hmmm? Partners in love, desire,
and pain. It will be like birthing children together."
Brent, mesmerized, presented his big organ and waited. He
watched as Leslie set up a vise on the table top. Jasmine, meanwhile,
finished polishing up the crop and laid it across the cheeks of my
bottom. It felt smoooth. I knew it would impart an entirely different
feeling in just a few moments.
"Can you see your lover okay?" Jasmine asked me. I nodded.
Brent was standing beside me, I on the seat and he on the floor, I
offering my bottom and he his penis. "Watch him as I whip you," Jasmine
said. "You'll see his face show every emotion as we deal with his
penis."
"Please don't hurt him!" I blurted.
"He'll be fine, darling. Just a little sore," Jasmine smiled.
"And now for you, sweet. Call for the first stroke. You're a big
girl."
My wrists had been attached to the back of my pearl choker by
the ever-helpful Kerri. My breasts offered themselves. My bottom
bulbed behind me, white-fleshed, inviting. I felt as if I were nothing
but bosom and bottom, with my shaky knees holding it all up. My tummy
felt queasy. I heard myself swallow.
"One," I said quietly.
"What?" Jasmine asked.
"Please, um, spank my bottom..." I said, softly as I could.
"Well, I don't expect you to yell, but I don't expect you to
talk like a little mouse either," Jasmine scolded. "Say it loud enough
for everyone to hear."
"Please spank my bottom!" I blurted.
"I have a crop," she teased.
"Please crop my bottom," I said.
"You mean you want me to hurt this precious soft pumpkin of
yours?" she asked. She made me flinch as she touched a finger to my
heinie.
"Yessss," I hissed. I stuck my bottom back at her, mooning her
with it, I was so tense and nervous and awkward. If it must be, then do
it, for God's sake!
And she did. Jasmine drew her arm back and delivered a royal
stroke, whipping the crop into my hinds so hard I nearly toppled over
the chairback. I howled. I felt tears spring instantly to my eyes. I
was off to a difficult start, but at least it had begun. The tenseness
had burst and I heard myself screaming.
WHACK! Another blow caught me just as I regained my balance.
Kerri, who'd pushed me upright, using my bosoms like they were handles,
almost fell down. I keened out a howling moan. Behind me my bottom
felt like I'd been stung by a line of wasps. It felt tight and hot and
I squeezed it inward, hoping to throw off the pain. Jasmine rewarded me
with another blow. It left a sizzling strip of fire in its wake and I
shook my ass all about, disorderly and lewd. My chubby cheeks were
awash in pain. It burned in hot lines across me and I thought I would
evaporate through my asshole. In my clenchings, sobbing and howling, I
glanced to my right and saw my lover being fitted into a vise.
Carefully, with tender hands, Leslie put Brent's organ into a big iron
jaw. It held him at the base of his cock, trapping him against the
table. Slowly Leslie closed the vise on his dick. When he seemed
unable to escape she looked up at him with her big doe-like eyes.
"Struggle, try to escape," she urged. Brent, caught by only
his dick, tried to pull it from the vise. She'd cuffed his wrists
behind him and he quickly found that he'd indeed gotten himself into a
jam.
"I'm-- I've never been like this before," my lover gasped. He
looked down at his huge organ. It was snug in the vise and the iron
jaws would not let go.
"Good," Leslie observed. She tickled the underside of his
cockhead with her fingertips. "Now we can have a little discussion
about feminism, sir."
Jasmine delivered my blows with plenty of time between strokes
for me to recover. She wanted me to be able to watch my lover and see
his defilement. After all, he had chosen to have me whipped with the
crop. I felt like I was part of some kind of bizarre marriage, where
the partners were joined by mutual suffering. Yet, with Kerri tickling
my dell and Leslie pleasuring Brent's penis, it was not all pain. It
was a mixture, and between my sobs I wondered if marriages, if done in
this way, would last longer than church-made ones.
Leslie began Brent's torment by producing a thermometer. She
told him she would take his temperature by poking it in his peehole.
But first, she wished to stuff as much of him down her throat as she
possibly could.
"This is an excellent way to train, don't you think?" she asked
Brent. "I mean, usually the man just rams it in. How can a girl learn
that way? Here, with you so nicely trapped, I can take my time. I'm
new at this so it may take awhile." She bent and began by suckling just
his cockhead. Then she worked more of him into her as she was ready.
Bent over, her bottom made a marvelous target. Jasmine turned from me a
moment and whacked her friend.
"Yeeeeow!" Leslie cried. She lurched upright and clapped her
hands to her bottom. It had been a real stinger, and she hooted at the
ceiling, finally gasping and just holding her cheeks a while, massaging
herself. Brent, meanwhile, wet with her saliva, could only wait for her
to comfort herself.
"Er, I have to pee," Brent said.
"Ummmm, guess you'll have to wait," Leslie told him. "You're
the one who ordered red bottoms for us all." She broke open a condom
and slipped the end of it over his cockhead. "There, that should keep
you from peeing," she said. Then she went to check on Missy. The girl
still stood in the corner, sobbing quietly. Her head was hung down and
I imagined her bosoms must be wet with her tears.
"Are you thinking about behaving?" Leslie asked Missy.
"Go 'way! You're mean!" Missy sobbed.
"Well, you're a cocksucker!" Leslie replied. Missy's chin
rose. She sniffled.
"A cocksucker?" she asked.
"Yes, darling, you're a cocksucker and I want you to come over
and suck Brent's cock right now!" Leslie told her.
"Ohhh, goody! Can I bite it too?" Missy asked. "He's the one
who ordered me spanked, isn't he?"
"Yes, darling," Leslie replied. She untied Missy's wrists.
"We girls would never do awful things to each other unless these evil
men made us." She kissed the girl's cheeks. They walked hand-in-hand
to the lamp table.
"Uh, hi Missy," Brent said. The girl looked at him, wide-eyed,
and then broke into giggles.
"You look stupid!" she teased.
"I feel stupid," Brent admitted. "Would you be kind enough--"
"Don't, Missy. He's to be experimented on," Leslie whispered.
"Yes!" Missy agreed. But she had to stop a moment and rub her
bottom because it still hurt quite a bit from her spanking. I,
meanwhile, was being put on par with her, Jasmine whisking in another
stroke to keep my tears coming.
"Oh, please don't hurt Brent!" I begged when I could speak
coherently again. I sniffled and held back a sob and tried not to cry.
But my fanny was really hurting now! I wished there was some way I
could free my wrists and get Brent's big organ out of that awful vise
and escape with him. But it was not to be, I realized, as Jasmine
touched my bottom with her fingertip, testing my temperature, she said,
and making me howl. I was afraid, I had to pee, and I couldn't stop
wiggling my ass. Kerri delved within my slit, making me wet. She bit
my nipple, a clamp made of teeth and tensing and relaxing at will. I
was captured, caught, burning and burnt. Jasmine gave me another whippy
blow and I howled anew.
Like a trapped snake, Brent's penis flexed and wiggled within
the vise. He was fiercely hard. Urgently he flexed his buns, in and
out and in again. He was desperate to fuck and that, indeed, was his
undoing. Had he been gay, he might have softened, and been able to
escape. But, being fully male and full of himself with seed, he was
captive to his own need, to his own desires. All about him was nothing
but firm, bouncing female bosoms and wriggly bottoms. We were all
beautiful; there was not one among us who could not have posed for
Playboy (although two of us were too young!) Brent seethed with passion
and, as a result, he was forced to stand trapped and watch as Leslie and
Missy laid evil plans for his penis.
Missy picked up the sugar thermometer. It was a slim glass
thermometer, like mommies used to take a sick child's temperature.
Leslie had stuck a big rubber stopper on the back end of it to prevent
it getting lost inside Brent's huge male organ.
"Now Missy, I want you to be the mommie," Leslie, nurse-like,
instructed her little friend.
"Okay," Missy murmered.
"I have been thinking, mommie, that our friend Brent here must
have something wrong with him. Look how big and swollen his penis has
become!"
"Oh, why yes! I don't remember boys looking like this in my
anatomy textbook!" Missy observed.
"And see how he shakes--he is practically foaming at the
mouth!" Leslie continued.
"Mmmm, he must need his temperature taken!" Missy concluded.
"Indeed! But he is SO big and fierce! I wouldn't dare try to
stick our little thermometer into his big mouth, would you?" Leslie
asked.
"Oh, no! He would bite it in two! Or he'd misbehave and not
hold it in his mouth like he's supposed to for a full three minutes!"
Missy agreed.
"Then we must find some other hole to stick in it, Missy,"
Leslie mused. Her fingers passed lovingly along Brent's giant organ,
caressing the shaft and circling the head and finally touching his pee
hole. "My, here's a hole!" Leslie said happily. "We can put it right
in here, Missy, unless you'd rather stick it up his hairy butt?"
"Oh no," Missy said. "Look how Brent is flexing his ass! If
we put this fragile sugar thermometer up his ass he'd break it in two,
just by squeezing it with his iron-hard cheeks!"
"Well, then we must slip it into this little hole," Leslie
reasoned.
"Yes, his pee hole should be okay," Missy agreed. She reached
out and touched his penis with her fingertips. It flexed, and she drew
her hand back, frightened a little, I think. Brent truly did have a
penis that looked like a venomous snake. Then, regaining her courage,
Missy poked at Brent with her thermometer. There was no need to grease
it. Brent's cockhead was leaking gobs of precum. Leslie slipped a lace
doily under the head of his penis to try to catch some of the drips.
The lamp table was made of precious hardwood. There was no need to
stain it.
"Ooops! There it goes!" Missy said. Brent watched with
love-filled, horror-stricken eyes as the girl poked her thermomter into
his cock. Its tip slid into his pee hole and the rest quickly followed,
gliding up inside him like a needle.
"We must leave it there for at least three minutes," Leslie
told Missy.
"Okay," the girl replied. She let go of the thermometer. Its
end stuck out of Brent's penis.
"Now, let's assume he has a temperature. What shall we do?"
Leslie asked Missy.
"Hmmm, I'm the mommie, but I don't know. Please tell me, nurse
Leslie."
"Well, I have here some Binaca Breath Spray," Leslie said.
"Would you like to see a trick?"
"Okay," Missy said. Leslie picked up a Bic lighter and flicked
on it flame. Holding the Binaca next to it, she depressed the head of
the Binaca and flame shot out of its pin-like hole!"
"YIKES!" Missy howled. She leapt back from Leslie. The Binaca
had been turned into a miniature flame-thrower! Leslie drew closer to
Brent and squirted the Binaca again. More flames shot from its tip.
"Don't!" Brent gasped.
"You don't want your hot dog roasted?" Leslie asked.
"No," Brent breathed.
"Wow! That's some trick!" Missy said. "If I'm ever bothered
by boys I'm going to use it on them!"
"It works even better with WD-40," Leslie said.
"Don't get stupid on me," Brent declared. His chest expanded
and he glowered down at the girls. "That Binaca could explode right in
your face!"
"Yes, daddy," Leslie said.
"Daddy's right," Missy agreed.
"I'm glad our big Daddy's here to tell us when we're being
truly bad," Leslie said to Missy.
"He's just trying to protect us. Let's not play with the
Binaca anymore," Missy said.
"Well, I won't make it into a flamethrower, that's for sure.
It's silly, anyway," Leslie said. "Binaca is meant to soothe and cool
your throat. It can make your temperature go down if its used properly,
did you know that?" Leslie asked.
"Noooo," Missy said. "Maybe Brent needs some on his penis?"
"Yes, that would be a good idea," Leslie said. "I can't find
Peppermint in my purse. I hope this Spearmint flavor works just as
well."
"Well, let's try it," Missy said.
I'd had a little experience with Binaca (not as a
flamethrower!) and I knew Brent was in for a painful experience.
"Oh, please don't squirt Binaca on his dick!" I begged. Tears
ran down my cheeks and I squirmed as I stood flat-footed in my chair.
Kerri, who had licked my honey-coated nipples clean, was now tongueing
in my belly button, cleaning my tummy of honey and chocolate drips. Her
fingers probed my slit and tickled my clitty. I was hungry to mount
Brent and didn't want to see his glorious penis abused.
Leslie turned to me and laughed. "You're in no position to
give orders," she said.
"But Brent's MY boyfriend!" I sobbed. I really did love his
penis. She was a lesbian!
"He may be your boyfriend, but WE own his dick," Missy said.
She was forever a brat, always finding some way to taunt me, to ruin my
lunch with Brent, to keep his attention on the limo ride back, and now
to prance around him, Indian-like, playing naughty games with his penis.
I heard a little spraying sound and Brent groaned. As if he
were in need of perfume, Leslie began squirting Binaca all over his
cock. The head, its tip and its flange, the shaft, all over the many
veins that ran through it, and along the underside, the most sensitive
part of any man's penis, especially where the shaft met the head.
"Mmmm, wow. Whoa, that stings!" Brent shouted, as the
sprayed-on Binaca transformed itself into a stinging, biting gloss.
"Yeeech! That is REALLY stinging now! Wipe it off!" Brent begged.
Leslie touched the tip of his cock with her finger, just
underneath where the sugar thermometer poked in his peehole. "You're
being prepared for surgery, sir. You need to be circumcised," Leslie
said.
"I already AM circumcised!" Brent holwed. He tossed his head
back as the Binaca worked its will on his dick. He was used to whipping
out his dick and plunging it into a girl's soft pussy. Never, I think,
had he been clamped and presented in this way, made to wait and to
suffer and to admire his hardness even as girls played tricks on it.
Was he proud of his manliness? I knew, deep down, he must be. Despite
the Binaca, or the awful thermometer. We were just girls. He alone
posessed a penis. All of us stared at it like children, aware of it
every moment, of its hugeness, its power, and its potential for spurting
at any moment, of flooding the room with the scent of male seed
released, into this parlor where, without Brent, we would just be girls
having a tea party.
The stinging gradually transformed itself into a rich, warm
glow. Brent gazed anew at his cock, watching it, looking at it, feeling
the strangeness of having it bathed in breath spray. "Wow, that's some
shit," he grunted.
"Wait til you feel it on your balls, love. It stings quite
awfully there, I'm told by men, much worse than on their penises,"
Leslie said. She bent down and reached underneath Brent's shaft. She
eased her hand back until she was between his thighs. He could have
shifted his legs closed and crushed her hand, but he left them open. He
felt bold.
"Ready?" Leslie asked.
"Damn, now you've got me curious," Brent said.
"Be a man," Leslie warned. She sprayed. Brent waited, then
felt a sudden, prickly stinging on his balls, grimacing, baring his
teeth at the pain. Leslie looked up at him. "It's just breath spray,
darling. Keep your legs apart."
"Unnngh!" was all Brent could manage to say in reply. But,
courageously, he kept his thighs open. Leslie squirted him again, on
another part of his balls. Then in a third place and a fourth, until
his big hanging testicles were gleaming with Peppermint spray. Missy
had found the Peppermint in Leslie's purse. They agreed that was the
better choice; it was reputed to sting more than any of Binaca's other
flavors.
"How does that feel?" Leslie asked Brent. She withdrew her
hand from under his balls and gently stroked his big prick. Brent
tossed his head and clamped his jaw.
"It feels... terrible..." Brent breathed.
"Well, you're getting it shot up your butthole next," Leslie
said.
"God, NO!" Brent begged.
"Poor boy, if you'd shoot you might escape from my vise,"
Leslie offered.
"Stroke me! Make me cum, please! I've suffered enough, you
bitch!" Brent told her.
"My, such naughty language. I do declare he sounds like he's
talking out his butthole when he speaks like that!" Leslie said to
Missy. "Here, darling, which flavor do you prefer for his a-hole?
Peppermint? Spearmint? Wintergreen, or Cinnamon?"
"Which one hurts the worst?" Missy asked. Four little Binaca
sprays were laid out on the hardwood table now, each tempting her
fingers.
"Probably peppermint, although spearmint's almost as bad,"
Leslie said.
"Well, I'll try Wintergreen," Missy said. "That's my favorite
flavor!"
"Okay," Leslie said. "Spray his ass and wherever else you
think he needs it. I'm going to get some Mountain Dew for his final
treatment."
"Alright," Missy replied. Leslie walked to the door of the
parlor and let herself out. It was strange, watching her leave, her
hips moving with an ethereal, jiggly motion, her legs long and walking
swiftly. She looked like a businesswoman going on break, yet she wore
only a shirt and her heels, nothing else. She had the perfect job
description, I guessed: "To torture men's penises, especially the
boss's. Skills needed: blowing, sucking, knowledge of Binaca breath
spray, and the ability to teach younger girls how to do same." Jasmine
kept me busy with more slicing blows to my bottom while we all waited
for Leslie. Kerri's mouth descended to my bush and began licking up all
the little droplets of honey that had collected there. I was caught
between pain and pleasure. The pain bit into me from behind while the
pleasure circling around my button in front never gave me the
satisfaction I wished. Missy, her hands free, played with her clitty.
She was no stranger to frigging herself, I guessed, and she did it with
a freedom that made me weep. I was so hungry! I prayed God to loosen
my hands and let me down from the chair and put me on top of Brent's
hole. But it did not happen.
"Hmmm, it's kinda smelly back here!" Missy observed, prying
apart Brent's ass with her fingers. "This place definitely needs some
breath spray! Take that, you big smelly a-hole! And that! And that!"
She squirted Binaca into Brent's ass.
"Yeeoooch! Stop!" Brent pleaded. He flexed his hind cheeks a
little, but Missy was so small and her fingers so childish, I think he
feared injuring her. Despite the burning heat of the Binaca, he let her
probe and shoot inside him. He was a true man. "God, that burns!"
Brent gasped.
"Well, I suppose maybe Binaca isn't the best thing for lowering
your temperature after all," Missy mused when she'd finished spraying
him. She replaced the Binaca on the table. "Let me see how your
temperature is, sir." Gently she withdrew the thermometer. She lifted
it into the air and examined it. "Four hundred and Twenty-Two," she
pronounced solemnly.
"Don't you know how to read a thermometer?" Brent asked.
"Nope," Missy replied. "Would you like me to stick it back
into you and try again?"
"No," Brent said. "Throw that thing away! And those stupid
Binacas too! I don't think anyone's going to want to spray that in
their mouth now."
"Why, I do!" Missy said. She picked up the Peppermint, which
had been used on Brent's balls, and put it into her mouth and sprayed
her tongue. "Mmmm, Peppermint Blow, with a Taste of Testicle," Missy
observed. She smacked her lips. "Let's try this Spearmint! Oooh!
Cock flavor! Yum! I think I'll skip the Wintergreen Butthole flavor,
though. Maybe Kelly would like to try it?" She looked at me. Jasmine
gave me another sizzling whack with her crop.
"Kelly's busy right now, dear," Jasmine told her. Missy looked
sober and reached back and cupped her bottom.
"That whipping you gave me still hurts really bad," Missy said.
"Yes, dear, it's supposed to," Jasmine answered. "Go to the
bathroom and get some carpet cleaner and spray it on the place on the
rug where you peed."
"Okay!" Missy said. She ran from the room. She was a child
speeding to recess. A few minutes later she came wandering back. She
held up a can of carpet cleaner. "Here it is!" she announced. "I peed
while I was in the bathroom, so I don't go on the carpet any more!" She
walked over to where she'd had her accident and sprayed a generous pile
of foam on the rug.
"Now go put it back, dear. I don't want you spraying carpet
cleaner all over everything," Jasmine told her. There was a gleam in
Missy's eyes as she contemplated other uses the carpet cleaner might be
put to.
"Don't you think Brent needs a little on his dick?" Missy
asked.
"No, darling. S&M doesn't mean you can just do anything. The
carpet cleaner might hurt him. Put it away, please," Jasmine said, and
swished her crop in Missy's direction.
"Okay!" Missy declared. She arched up on her tip-toes and then
leapt for the door. She didn't want to feel that crop anymore, and
neither did I.
"Please, Jasmine!" I screeched. I stood with bare huddling
cheeks upon the chair, sobbing, groaning, feeling like a girl who'd sat
in nettles. I was beside myself with pain and pleasure and a thousand
other passions. She kissed my hiney. Her mouth was cool and moist but
my bottom was so tender that I hissed and rose up on my toes.
"Let's take her down, Kerri," Jasmine said. "But first I must
give her two welts to show to her friends. Ones that will last until
she gets back to L.A."
"Ohhh! I don't want any welts!" I cried.
"Yes you do, dear. You're going to meet your girlfriends and
you're going to want to tell them all about your adventures. And they
won't believe you, of course. Unless, that is, I give you a little
trophy to take with you. When you bend over and yank your jeans down
for them, and they see your marks, then they'll belive. Here goes!"
She swatted me hard, slicing right into marks I already bore. I howled
and jumped up on my toes and shook my lovely delirious hinds. She
struck again. My bottom churned and my cheeks bunched and then released
and then bunched together again.
Jasmine placed her hands upon my bottom. As yet her fingers
bore no oil. Just her bare slim fingers seizing and grasping my hot raw
bottom.
"Ahh, so sweet and young you are," Jasmine hissed. "Such a
fine, plump bottom! I love feeling the heat of the lash in it. Don't
fight me, dear. Let your bottom sag into my hands."
I bit my lip and sank back, letting her hold me. She
controlled my squirmings with her seeking fingertips. I was hers. We
were both females but she had found a way to make me submit. I might
have given her more of my weight but Kerri held me up by my breasts.
She squeezed them as if they were gourds at market, bought to be broken
open and crushed and eaten. My nipples stuck up like little buttons and
Kerri bit at them with her teeth. I swooned. I could not stand all the
feelings that flooded me. Pain lapped at my nipples as soothing but
insistent fingertips probed the fleshy halves of my pumpkin. I gasped,
lost myself. I peed on the seat like a mare. Jasmine tutted but did
not reprove me. She was all womanly tenderness now, though her fingers
sought, male-like, at my rosette. Jasmine breathed hotly on my back.
She licked me.
"I must have you, dear. Right in your ass. Do not deny me."
She helped me down from the chair. My pee puddled in the seat. It was
forgotten, forgiven. She put me down on my knees on the floor and made
me assume a doggie position. "Put your face on the floor," she told
me. "I must have that adorable ass of yours as high in the air as you
can make it."
I wished for a handkerchief, a shirt, or something, under my
face, but she offered me none. With her hand she guided my head to the
floor and I was forced to press my lips to the carpet. Kissing the
floor, I felt my bottom raised high by her hands and held there. Kerri
knelt beside me on the floor and put her palms under my tummy. The air
of the room felt cool on my tushy. Knowing I was only inviting more
trouble, I stuck my hiney up and let my cheeks open to the air. It felt
wonderful. My burning ass felt its first taste of relief. But Jasmine,
wicked as ever, took a dildo from a drawer and began greasing it.
"This will be shoved up your ass and then, when its right up
you, I'm going to give you a treat!" Jasmine laughed. With spooky
thoughts in my brain I waited for her to ream me. Kerri tickled my
clitty. She promised to make me cum when I was full.
Jasmine parted my ass cheeks. I felt the head of the dildo
knock at my anus. I stab. I gasped. It went up inside me, hard,
Jasmine pushing it. Missy walked into the room just then. She stopped
cold and her hands flew to her bottom. She watched with big scared eyes
as my fucking proceeded.
I was reamed. I was opened. When Jasmine had probed me to my
depths and stabbed me repeatedly with the dildo, she gave me a new
sensation. It was terrible. The dildo was hard but its hardness was
due to its being filled with water, I was told. Jasmine whispered its
secrets in my ears. More water could be pumped into the tail of the
dildo with a simple hand pump. Jasmine sent Missy back to the bathroom
and the girl returned with a cup of water. It was a child's cup;
plastic and patterned with cartoon hearts. She gave it to Jasmine. The
water was poured into a big plastic syringe. It had a rubber squeeze
ball at its end, but otherwise was just a big plastic tube, with a
penis-like shaft and a small tapered point.
Jasmine flipped open a little flap at the back of my dildo.
The dildo was stuck upright into my offered bottom, no water could
escape it. Jasmine put her syringe into the flap in the end of my
dildo. Then she squeezed the squeeze ball. More water was pumped into
my dildo, and it expanded in my ass.
I gasped. I was being widened! I tried to contract my cheeks
but Jasmine slapped my fanny and told me to keep them wide as I could.
All the while, Kerri played her fingers over my spot. My tiny clitoris
hungered for love. She promised to give it to me if only I'd accept the
widening of my ass.
My anal ring, gripping so tightly, could not sustain the burden
of the inflowing water. It opened, opened more, stretched to the
limit. I felt as if I had a huge turd rammed up my butt. I wept on the
carpet. My tears flowed fast and freely. I kissed the floor with my
lips and hoped my bottom survived intact.
I tried to move, tried to crawl forward. The very act sent a
shriek tearing from my lungs. I was filled beyond capacity. From my
butthole into the depths of my body I now had a huge giant penis up me,
hard as nails and uncompromising to a fault. There was no escape.
Jasmine laughed. Missy squealed in horror. Kerri played with me and
made me cum again and again in her hand.
"God, what are you doing to her?!" Leslie asked. She trotted
into the room with a 12-pack of Mountain Dew in her arms.
"She must be made more accessible for her lover," Jasmine said
bluntly. I cried and shook my hiney, hoping to somehow get that awful
huge prick out of me, but she showed me no mercy. She kept a finger on
it to make sure it remained completely embedded. Any movement I made,
even the slightest breath, sent a shiver of horror through me. I was
rent and broken, I was sure, by the awful thing that Jasmine had sent up
my ass, feeling it right to my belly-button and unable to escape it.
Jasmine kissed my face. She ignored my pleading, self-pitying
groans. I was her prisoner. I could do nothing. She could leave me
like this til the end of time, if she wished.
"When I send you home, I will give you a business card,"
Jasmine told me. Her words purred into my ears. "It is the name of a
man. He will treat you much crueler than I can, or than Brent ever
would. Much crueler. He is utterly demanding. He allows a girl no
rest, no reprieve. He trained me and I suffered much at his hands. I
can only start you down the path tonight that he will take you on. But
you must call him. Tell him your age. He accepts no one over
eighteen. When he gives you his address, and you go to him, you must
take a whip along. It is the only way. He will not accept you if you
forget it. And you cannot come again, only once, and you must do it
properly, just as he says, bringing the whip with you."
"Where--where would I get a whip?" I asked through my tears. I
knew where to buy CD's in L.A., but not whips!
"Any store that sells things for horses will have them,"
Jasmine whispered. "I will not give you one. You must go and buy it
yourself. Pick it out, present it at the counter. Yes, Kelly! It is
that bad! He is that bad!"
I came again, into Kerri's seeking fingertips. I was all honey
now, my moistness filling my empty cunt, my thighs wet and loved and
caressed and parted and delved between. Jasmine stroked the plump
cheeks of my bottom and began easing out the hard dildo. She drew some
water back into the syringe so the dildo could move in my bottom. I
felt it slide slickly back, slowly, so as not to hurt me and also to let
me have the feel of it, the penetrating effect of it as it let me go
only ever so slowly. At last, gleaming with the juices of my well-oiled
ass, it was removed. Jasmine laughed and set it aside on the carpet. I
felt open. I felt remorseful. In my relief, crazily, I wanted the
dildo back. And I wanted Brent where the dildo had not gone, in my
cunt.
"Stand up, girl," Jasmine told me. She and Kerri hauled me to
my feet. I stood dizzily. I palmed my poor ass with my hands. It was
hurt, it was pried apart and then left to dream of past penetrations,
wishing for more. "Come, we must give Brent his final treatment,"
Jasmine said. Happily she led me over to my lover so I could watch his
destruction.
Brent was hard as a rock. His penis looked like one of those
stone phalluses in Fiji. Yet, soon, it would all be over. He would be
made to cum and cum in buckets until he was soft and withdrawn. I
stared at him.
"Hi," I breathed.
"You took quite a dildo up that fat little ass of yours," he
said.
I touched his cock with my finger. "You're going to be small
soon," I told him.
"I know," he answered.
"Okay, let's do it," Leslie said. She freed his cock from the
vise. Brent let her handle him. He did not resist. He was beyond
resisting. He quavered in her small palms, his organ hard but wanting
to lose itself now, to let its seed spring forth and be gone. He no
longer cared whether he shot in or out of a girl. He wanted to be rid
of his tormenting seed.
"Brent, I know you want to cum, but try to hold it," Leslie
told him. "I would really like to see you pork one of us, even if you
don't care."
"Okay," Brent gasped. "Just finish this game of yours. I've
got to pee badly."
Leslie turned her head and looked at Jasmine. "It's okay if he
pees now, isn't he?"
"Yes, let him. I want him thinking of nothing but his hardness
and his sperm," Jasmine agreed.
"Which one of us do you want to pee on?" Leslie asked Brent.
"Which--?" he asked, stunned.
"Yes, pick your favorite pee partner. You may just go on her.
Don't worry about the carpet. We've spilled a little pee on it already,
I'm afraid. Now it's your turn to go. Which of us do you like the
best?"
"Missy," Brent answered firmly.
"Brent!" I shouted. Missy hollared that she did not want to be
peed on.
"I'm sorry," he told me. "I like you, but I can't get enough
of Missy. Bring her over here, ladies! I'm going to pee right on that
cute belly of hers!"
"Noooo! I don't want him wetting on me!" Missy cried, but
Jasmine and Leslie brought her over to him. Brent presented her with
his cock. He aimed so that his penis would go on her belly button.
"Well? Let's see it!" Leslie told Brent. She tickled the
underside of his cock. A minute passed. Then another.
"I, I can't!" Brent gasped. Leslie bent and kissed his shaft.
Suddenly, as her lips mouthed him wetly, Brent's cockhead exploded with
pee. It arced across the space between himself and Missy, falling, and
splattered on her belly. Missy howled her disapproval but Jasmine and
Kerri, laughing, held her tight between them. Droplets of pee hit them
as Brent's powerful stream gushed onto Missy's tummy.
Too soon, he was spent. He had no more pee to give. Missy
stood sobbing, pee running down her belly, nesting in her pubic curls,
trickling down to her cuntlips and dripping to the floor.
Leslie popped open a can of Mountain Dew. Quickly she poured
it into a dark green Tiffany glass. Coca-Cola was stamped on the side
of the glass, molded into the glass itself. I watched as the foaming
bubbles of Mountain Dew rose up to the hand-blown lettering and then
beyond, right to the rim of the glass.
I was urged to take hold of Brent's penis. "Grab the shaft,
point him toward the floor," Leslie told me. I did as she asked. My
fingers barely fit around him, but I managed it, and then held him down,
with difficulty, so that he could be put into the glass.
Leslie brought the glass of soda water under his dick. She
lifted the glass, sinking Brent's cock into the brimming soda. Brent
shouted as his penis, already coated with Spearmint Binaca, was plunged
into the bubbling soda. His arms, bound behind him, ensured he would
not resist. He might have run, or course, or dodged away, but he stood
his ground, bravely, and watched as his cock was defiled.
It's amazing what a glass of bubbling soda can do. I'm told it
burns, the bubbles exploding against a man's cock and causing him true
pinpricks of pain. "Yahoooo! Mountain Dew!" Leslie cried, and Brent
was forced to join in, watching his own cock's denoument. I held him in
the glass, despite his flexing attempts to lift himself out of it. I
made him take it all.
When at last Brent surfaced, we took his dripping cock and
stuffed it deep into Mindy. She shouted as she was forced upon him. He
was big, she was nothing if not small. They merged like fire and water,
sizzling, hungry but dueling, she a captive between Jasmine and Kerri,
he guided by my own hands.
It took a long time to work Brent fully into Missy. She was
too young for him, really, but we made her take him anyway. She must
learn sometime, Jasmine said. She cannot just play little games
forever. Remorsefully, but wanting to see my friend fucked, I
deflowered her with my lover. Her blood stained the carpet. Jasmine
said she would save the stain as a memory of little Missy's virginity.
It was gone now. She was impaled on him. We rammed Brent into her
belly again and again. When Brent was fully lodged, deep in her womb, I
put my hands under his balls. I lifted them and I squeezed them hard.
"Give her your sperm," I said in a hushed voice. "Go ahead, I
don't mind. She's my friend. It's my gift to her."
"Yessss," Brent gritted. He tried to fight his need but it
exploded suddenly from him. Missy wept and shivered upon his huge
cock. We made her take every last drop of him.
"You have been a good girl, Missy," Jasmine whispered. She
kissed the girl when it was over. We lifted her off Brent. We took her
from the room and walked her back to the West Wing. When we arrived,
the DAs were gone. We tucked her into my bed. I slipped in after her,
I was so exhausted.
Kerri remained in my room with me. The others left. They went
back to Brent. I was past loving him now. I loved myself instead. I
lay in bed kissing Missy, not becuase I liked her but becuase she was
there, and I wanted her softness against mine. She did not matter, only
the pillowy softness of her breasts did, her little gasps, her rising
and falling tummy. I felt womanly and I wanted to be a woman with her,
the two of us survivors, suffering together and passing through fire.
Kerri pampered my bottom. She soothed lotion all over it. I
felt loved, needed. I cared no more about Brent. I would leave in the
morning, I told myself. Back to L.A. and the things I knew. I'd had
enough adventures, for now. I'd grown up a little more. I yearned for
familiar things, not whips or chains or huge phalluses, but simple
dresses, and homework, and sensitive, gentle teachers.
Chapter Five
Jasmine had been right. When I got home, when I met my
friends, I couldn't help myself. I had to show them my ass! I turned
round and bent over and hiked down my tight, ass-clinging jeans. And
they saw it. Two strong welts ridged across my bottom. They ran their
fingers over my welts and gasped at my bravery.
"I want more," I told them, my head down, my hair falling in
streaming strands to the floor, the cones of my breasts heavy in my
sweater. I wiggled my bottom and felt my cheeks tingle. They were
plump, inviting. "Get my camera off my night table and take a picture
of my ass! I want to send it to that man Jasmine told me about."
My girlfriends complied. They took a photograph, not of my
face but just of my ass. I sealed it in a pink envelope and sent it to
the P.O. Box of the man on the business card.
I received no reply. Jasmine had warned me that I wouldn't.
Finally, drawing up all my courage, making the call from my bedroom,
alone, in the middle of the night, I spoke to him. I hugged my teddy
bear as I spoke to him. A woman answered, but she put me on the line
with him as soon as I asked for him by his special name.
"Sauron," he wished to be called. I knew of the character.
Sauron controlled little hobbits in the Lord of the Rings and made them
do his bidding. If he caught them. If they came to him and let him
catch them. Hobbits, and elves too, and fairies, perhaps, though I'd
never finished the book. It was too long. Was this real Sauron too
long?
I bought a whip. He told me on the phone where to buy it. I
presented the whip at the counter and the clerk looked at me with
knowing eyes. She rung me up and I left, blushing, holding the whip in
an equestrian shopping bag close to my chest.
I caught a ride with a girlfriend that afternoon. She told my
mom I was going camping with her girl scout troop. But instead, deep in
the canyons outside L.A., finding his house on a peak at the top of a
canyon that gave a beautiful view of the city, she let me out. I turned
and waved goodbye to her as she sped off in her Mustang. She didn't
want to leave me. But I made her, and she complied at last, holding my
hand, begging me to be careful and to call her as soon as I could. I
promised I would.
With fearful steps I approached his house. A woman, working in
the garden, greeted me. She was his housekeeper. I recognized her
voice from the phone.
"Yes, come right in, dear. He's expecting you," she told me.
As soon as we were inside she told me to take off my clothes.
I shivered. I hesitated. "You have the whip? Good," she
said, taking my shopping bag, opening it, looking inside. "Undress,
dear. Everything."
"Even my panties?" I asked, unbuttoning my jeans. I savored
the words. I was scared out of my wits but, somehow, I found pleasure
in asking for mercy and being refused.
"Yes, of course, darling. Get them right off," she replied.
He appeared in the doorway. He was big and strong and his hair was dark
and he had skipped shaving for several days. I stared. He stared
back. Slowly, our eyes still gripped by one another, I slipped out of
my clothes. When I was bare and naked and left in only my shoes and my
earrings, his housekeeper took my hand. She presented me to him.
Standing with my nipples like thorns, poking up at him, held aloft by my
young, uptilted breasts, I gazed at him and bit my lip. I let his eyes
move over my face, then down, knowing what he was looking at. Freely he
admired my breasts, letting me blush as he gazed at them; then his eyes
trailed down over my softly breathing belly to my bush. He put his
thumbs to my thighs and I yelped as he rudely yanked my legs apart. I
almost lost my balance. His housekeeper grabbed my shoulders to keep me
from falling.
The strange man's thumbs intruded into my cunny. I felt
helpless before him. My breath rushed in and out of my chest, quick,
fearful, as he probed me.
"Yes, you are excited, aren't you?" he asked me. He sought my
spot and brushed a thumb over it. He had callouses on his hands. He
treated me roughly, not asking my name or showing me any emotion, simply
grabbing my cunt and opening it.
"I--" There was nothing I could say. I knew he would be
uncompromising with me. I felt a sudden panic. The housekeeper slapped
my bottom.
He kept one hand on my cunny but put the other beneath my chin
and lifted it. He kissed my lips. "You will do well here," he told
me. "We will teach you what you need to know."
"I don't need to know anything," I begged. But he didn't
listen. He picked me up in his arms and I kicked and screamed as he
carried me bodily through his house. His shirt was made from hemp and
it felt demanding against my skin, a rough fabric, not smooth and soft
like everything was at Jasmine's, but manly and rough.
I was taken outside to the porch on their backyard. A blanket
had been thrown down on the concrete and I saw, to my utter shock, a dog
food bowl on the porch with my name on it. "Kelly," it proclaimed, and
beside it was a dish with fresh water.
"Such a sweet pet. Thank you for buying me a little pet," the
housekeeper said to my master.
"She's a stray, I think," my master replied.
"Yes, a stray. But we will teach her obedience," the woman
replied.
As the sun set into the distant sea, sinking slowly, the
Pacific swallowing it up as if it were a red plum, they began to teach
me tricks.
THE END
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