
Standard Disclaimer:  This is a work of erotic fiction.
It is intended for Adults Only, so if you're 
not--then go away.  It is not intended for sale, but if 
you'd like to pass it around, feel free.  Just keep the 
text and header as is and all will be well.  Enjoy!



Bountiful Plantation: Part IV of VI

   Cynthia awoke feeling chilled to the bone.  She found 
herself alone next to the pool.  It was already night 
and, except for the dim underwater pool lights, the only 
illumination came from millions of stars revealed in the 
crystal desert sky.

   She would have enjoyed the sight had not the memory of 
the day's events returned to her then.  She thought 
dismally of what had taken place here by the pool.  She 
had deliberately been used and abused by two women she 
felt were old enough to be her mother, if not her 
grandmother!  She must leave this place, and fast!  She 
would do whatever it took to escape from their evil (if 
surprisingly satisfying) clutches!  Yes, she would!

   As she walked toward the darkened house, Cynthia 
became aware that she was covered with a fine layer of 
dust and sand.  The oil with which she had been coated 
seemed to act as a collector for the stuff.   

   "That's just great," she thought.  "Now I'll really 
have to get washed up somewhere."

   To Cynthia's disappointment, the house was empty.  
There was only a note pinned to her clothes on the 
kitchen table.  It told of Mickey and June's return to 
the shop to deal with some crisis, and for Cynthia to 
lock up when she left.  She saw with relief that her keys 
and handbag were also on the table.

   Still nude, she dashed to the front window, where she 
saw the familiar shape of her car in the drive.  "Thank 
God!" she breathed in relief.  "It's here!"

   She was returning to the kitchen when she realized she 
couldn't get dressed yet, not before she washed off this 
oil and dirt.  In the kitchen she picked up her 
belongings, and went in search of a bathroom.  She 
resolved not to let her things out of her sight for a 
moment.

   Finding the house's only bathroom, she quickly jumped 
in the clear-glass shower stall and turned the water on 
full.  She luxuriated in the feel of the pounding water 
for a moment, then began soaping a wash cloth.  Curious 
what had been done to her privates that afternoon, and 
concerned if such activity would leave any marks, Cynthia 
firmly applied the wash cloth to her hyper-sensitive 
vulva, determined to make herself squeaky clean there.

   She forgot the reason sand was widely used as an 
excellent abrasive material.

   "AAAHHH!"

   When Cynthia regained conciseness, she was much more 
careful in washing the sand and oil off her sensitive 
body.

   After her shower, Cynthia very carefully dried herself 
and then left the used towel on the floor.  She picked up 
her panties and saw the fine powder that June had placed 
there earlier in the day.  Thinking it was a kind of baby 
talcum, she was not surprised at the cooling effect the 
tight panties now had on her poor abused crotch.  

   "Oooh, that feels good," she murmured.

   Happily, she saw that the same substance was also in 
her bra cups.


   Cleaned and dressed, she considered writing a rude 
note before leaving.  "Better not," she thought as she 
checked her perfect reflection in the bathroom mirror one 
last time.  "The less time I have to stay in this 
horrible place the better."

   She walked quickly through the deserted house and went 
out the front door, not bothering to lock it.  She 
gratefully climbed into her car and, after starting it, 
took one last look at the house.

   "They'll never believe me," she said, as she wondered 
if she could ever tell her friends about what happened 
here today.  "Never."

   Cynthia roared out of the drive and onto a quiet 
residential street.  She suddenly realized she had no 
idea were she was, or how to get back to her home.

   "This is no time to worry about details!" she said, 
and sped on down the street.  Cynthia eventually worked 
her way out of the development and headed in what 
direction she hoped was West.

   She cried with joy when she finally saw the on-ramp 
for the freeway which led north to Eastwood Estates, and 
home.  

   Once on the interstate, Cynthia got into her 
comfortable freeway-driving mode.  She clicked on the 
cruise control and tucked her legs up on the seat.  She 
knew she could drive all day like this, even though her 
home was at most 30 minutes away.

   It was only when she was finally able to relax that 
she noticed something strange going on in her panties and 
bra.  Her crotch was not just cool anymore, it was 
feeling absolutely creamy.  Guiltily, she looked around 
to make sure no one was watching her, then tentatively 
touched her crotch band underneath her short skirt.  
Cynthia was shocked to discover she was positively soaked 
down there!

   "Oh, my God!  Not again!" she cried in frustration.

   Embarrassed once more by her body's betrayal, she 
brought her legs down and tightly crossed them, hoping to 
stem the flow of her darn old secretions until at least 
she got home.  If the back of her skirt became wet now, 
she didn't know what she could do.

   And her breasts!  They had never felt so swollen or 
sensitive within the confines of her bra cups.  She 
longed to take the constricting bra off as she realized 
she was now having trouble breathing.  The nipples were 
incredibly erect, with the consistency of diamonds.  
Cynthia felt they were only a moment away from bursting 
through the thin cloth of the tight bra cups and her top.

   She sensed sweat start to break out all over her body 
as her heart beat dramatically increased.  Cynthia felt 
she was running a foot-race while only sitting in her 
car!

   The teenager began to panic.  "What was happening to 
me?" she wondered.  

   She drove down the off-ramp leading to Eastwood 
Estates.  Her knuckles were white on the steering wheel 
as she started to rub her bare thighs together underneath 
her skirt to relieve the pressure building in her crotch.  

   When her car hit the inclined driveway leading to her 
home, the slight jolt of her vulva pressing on the seat 
was enough to start her to orgasm.  Shaking, she was just 
able to park in her spot in her home's multi-car garage 
and turn off the engine before she lost all control with 
her second climax.

   "Arruggh!" Cynthia cried as her helpless body shook 
from the fury of her spasms.

   Her jerking caused the back of the bucket seat to 
fall, and there the blonde teenager remained on her back 
with the front of her skirt up over her waist, her hands 
clutched tightly over the narrow crotch band of her 
panties, as she tried desperately the stop the endless 
succession of quakes engulfing her. 


   It was well after midnight when the exhausted teenager 
was finally able to drag herself out of her car and into 
the dark, sleeping house.  She found she could hardly 
walk, so sore was her vagina from the abuses of the day 
before.

   Cynthia staggered up the long flight of stairs and 
down the thickly-carpeted corridor to the sanctuary of 
her own room.  Feeling safe at last, she dropped her 
clothes where she stood and fell naked on the bed, not 
even troubling to pull down the covers.

   She had no idea what had happened to her in her car, 
but the troubled teenager knew it just had to be the work 
of that evil pair, Mickey and June of Bountiful 
Plantation.

   "Well!  Thank God, it's over!  I'll never see any of 
them again!," she thought with some satisfaction.  "And 
I'm certainly never going back to that store again, ever!  
In fact, I think I'll just stay away from that part of 
town from now on."  

   Just before drifting off to sleep, she said happily, 
"And they can keep their darn dress, too!"


   It was late afternoon when, during a therapeutic 
shopping spree, that Cynthia first noticed her credit 
cards were missing.  She dug furiously through her hand 
bag, only to discover that all her identification, 
including her driver's license, was also missing.

   She realized with a feeling of terrible despair that 
she would have to go back to Bountiful Plantation after 
all.  But this time she resolved not to go alone.

   
   Kathryn Jameson had been Cynthia's neighbor since 
childhood.  They were they same age (were in fact born 
within a week of each other at the same hospital).  Their 
parents all belonged to the same clubs, while the girls 
all went to the same schools.  Kathryn's father was even 
a long-time client of Cynthia's father.

   The two girls, more alike than they were different, 
had been practically inseparable until, when they were 
around 14 years old, nature played a cruel trick on them.  
Cynthia grew slightly taller while Kathryn developed a 
slightly bigger bust.  Although each was still very 
beautiful, after that they became terribly envious of 
each other and had hated one another with a passion ever 
since! 
 
   The two 18-year-olds were sitting in Cynthia's car 
(Kathryn's was at the Ferrari dealership getting a tune 
up), about five minutes driving from the one place on the 
planet Cynthia did not want to visit that day, the store 
known as Bountiful Plantation.

   "I can't believe it," Cynthia thought with disgust.  
"The only person who would come with me on such short 
notice is Kathryn.  Probably doesn't have a life, what 
with that enormous chest of hers, the slut!"  

   With that, Cynthia stole a quick, envious glance at 
the brunette's medium-sized breasts, on prominent display 
through her tight top, and sighed.

   "What is this place we are going to?" asked Kathryn.

   "I already told you.  It's a clothes store down town 
called Bountiful Plantation."

   "OK, Cyn'.  Now, why was it I had to postpone an 
excellent game of tennis that took me a month to work out 
for this afternoon (as a freebie, yet) with that yummy 
instructor at the club?  Why is this so important to you 
that it couldn't wait until tomorrow, or at least until I 
could change?"

   "Christ, Kath.  Pay attention, will you?  I have to 
pick up my... my dress for the big party.  You know, the 
one you and your parents are going to at my parent's 
home?"

   "Yes, I know," said Kathryn good-naturedly.  She was 
well used to Cynthia's weird moods.

   "How come I've never heard of this place?"

   "How the hell should I know.  I just found it myself 
yesterday."

   "Wow," said Kathryn, impressed in spite of herself.  
"They made you a dress in one day?"

   "It's very exclusive," Cynthia sniffed.

   "Sounds very expensive, too," Kathryn observed.

   "Well, it's not.  At least, I don't think it will be."

   "What!  You mean you don't know what it's going to 
cost you?  Oh, brother!"

   With relief, Cynthia pulled in to the familiar narrow 
alley and parked in the same place she had used 
yesterday.

   "We're here," Cynthia said, glad to be off a very 
embarrassing line of questions.  "Remember, we're just 
here to pick up my stuff and leave.  No hanging around, 
Okay?"

   "Oh, sure," Kathryn said absently, already intrigued 
by the elegant sign.

   They got out of the car and proceeded quietly to the 
front door.

   Cynthia had been too embarrassed to tell Kathryn of 
the events of yesterday, or of the real reason for their 
trip to the store.  Because of that, she had felt herself 
unable to warn Kathryn to be on her guard against any 
kind of funny business that might occur in the store.  
The fact that Kathryn was only wearing her cute, very 
short, single-piece white tennis outfit with socks and 
tennis shoes, did concern her a little bit for Kathryn's 
safety.

   "Hope the little idiot at least wore some underwear 
this time, but it doesn't look it," she thought.  She 
herself was wearing the plainest underwear and the 
tightest jeans and top she had.  It took her three tries 
to fasten the jeans alone, and she dared not breath 
completely for fear the button would pop.  "Let's see 
them try and pry me out of these!" she complacently 
thought.

   She wasn't really worried, though.  Kathryn was a 
smart cookie who could spot a sneaky guy trying to pull a 
fast one on her a mile away, so these people shouldn't be 
any trouble for her at all.  Cynthia herself would be 
watching them like a hawk.  All she had to do was quietly 
demand her things back, threatening them with the police 
if she had to, then leave.  It was that simple.

   Besides, they wouldn't dare try anything with the two 
of them there.


   The girls walked confidently into the cool, dim 
showroom of Bountiful Plantation.   There was no one in 
the room.

   "What are they trying to pull here, anyway?" Cynthia 
thought indignantly.  Every time she set herself up for a 
big scene, they always ran out on her!

   "Oohhh!" breathed Kathryn, eyeing the racks of elegant 
clothes.  "What neat stuff!"

   "Don't get ideas!" warned Cynthia.  "We're here just 
for my things, then we are history!"

   "Oh, sure.  But, I can look, can't I?" Kathryn said 
innocently as she moved in wonder among the racks of 
clothes.

   "My God!  All the labels say 'Bountiful Plantation!'"

   "Yes, yes.  They make all their own stuff.  So what?"

   "An exclusive line of beautiful clothes in this town 
that no one at school knows about, and you ask, 'So 
what?'  Cyn', are you nuts?  This is to die for!" the 
intoxicated Kathryn said.

   A demure young woman who Cynthia had never seen before 
came out of the darkness, and said, politely, "Hello.  My 
name is Allison.  Welcome to Bountiful Plantation.  How 
may we help you, today?"

   "Is June or Mickey here?  I need to talk to them."   

   "They're in the back.  Are you Miss Cynthia?"

   "Yes.  Can they come out for a minute?"

   "They're expecting you back there.  That's what they 
are working on, your dress.  You only need to go for a 
final fitting and you can take it with you.  It's quite 
beautiful and I'm sure you'll be very happy with it."

   "Great," Cynthia said without enthusiasm as she headed 
towards the back of the store.  "Come on, Kath'."

   "I'm sorry, but only one customer is allowed back 
there at a time," she told the worried Cynthia.  "Store 
policy."  To Kathryn she said,  "While she's busy, may I 
get you something to drink?  Perhaps some champagne?"

   "Sure!" said the eager Kathryn.

   "Don't get too comfortable, Kathryn," the departing 
Cynthia called firmly over her shoulder.  "We'll be 
leaving in just a moment."


   The back room was a crowded place, filled with work 
tables, bolts of cloth, and sewing machines.  Along all 
of the were placed floor-length mirrors at regular 
intervals.  At the center table sat Mickey and June, with 
their backs to the door.

   "Ah, excuse me!" she said loudly, as she stood in the 
opened doorway.  She was determined from the very first 
moment to let them know just who was in charge this time.

     The two women said nothing as they continued with 
their work.  Finally, Mickey raised her right hand and 
motioned for Cynthia to come over to where they were 
sitting.  

   Cynthia's hands flew protectively back over her 
tightly sheathed buttocks at this reminder of what had 
happened the day before.  "Well!  If she thinks she can 
intimidate me like that, she has another thing coming!" 
the indignant Cynthia muttered.

   She quietly walked over to where the two women sat, 
and stood next to Mickey, poised ready to flee at a 
moments notice.  She was surprised to see spread out on 
the table all of her missing cards, as well as the most 
beautiful dress that Cynthia had ever seen.  

   "Wow," she whispered.

   "Nice, isn't it?" Mickey said huskily as she placed 
her left arm around the teenager's narrow waist.

   "There you are!" exclaimed the smiling June.  "You two 
will have to excuse me," she said, rising, "but I'd 
better go help Allison.  She's still all thumbs with this 
sort of thing."

   June left the room, leaving only Cynthia and Mickey.

   Cynthia couldn't take her hungry eyes off of the 
dress.  It was fabulous!  She had never seen anything 
like it.

   "May I...touch it?"

   "You can do more than that, honey.  It's yours."

   Cynthia reverently picked up the dress and inspected 
it while holding it oh so carefully in her hands.

    Mickey dropped her hand from Cynthia's waist and 
carefully moved it over the teenager's firmly rounded 
buttocks.  Cynthia, lost in the dress, obediently turned 
when Mickey pulled on her left hip, so that her back was 
now to the woman.  Mickey used both hands to comfortably 
knead Cynthia's tightly packed buttocks.

   Cynthia was totally oblivious to what was happening 
around her.  She was completely lost in fantasies of her 
wearing this killer dress.  She would be the envy of her 
so-called friends and capture the attention of every guy 
in any room she entered.  It was made of a fine pearl-
colored silk which shimmered in the harsh light of the 
work room, as if the material itself was alive.  It had a 
floor-length skirt, long sleeves and a high neckline.  
Only the back was cut low, almost to the waist in fact, 
which Cynthia knew would make wearing a bra difficult, if 
not impossible.  Well, she knew of special slips for just 
such occasions, so that took care of that problem.  

   The slip would also take care of another problem.  The 
material was so sheer, the dress so obviously well-fitted 
that, even with everything covered, nothing would be 
covered at all!  Without something underneath, every 
goose bump on her body would be visible for all the world 
to see.  It made her feel creamy just thinking about it!


   "I like your friend," Mickey quietly said, as she 
worked one hand between Cynthia's thighs.  "She's quite a 
cupcake.  You and she aren't...?"

   "NO!  Of course not!" Cynthia sputtered, still lost in 
her dress fantasies. 

   "Just wondered," sighed Mickey.  She now worked the 
tight material of the girl's jeans which covered her 
vulva.

   "It's a beautiful dress," Cynthia said dreamily.  She 
was so lost to her surroundings that she never noticed 
June come in carrying Kathryn's tennis outfit and place 
it neatly on an empty counter, before leaving with two 
bolts of cloth and a bottle of champagne taken from a 
refrigerator.

   "Evening gown, actually.  Yes, it's a fine job, all 
right," agreed Mickey as she tugged slightly on Cynthia's 
waist button.  It was so over-taxed the snap immediately 
popped and the zipper flew open all the way down the 
girl's front.

   Cynthia snapped out of her delicious day-dream when 
she realized that her jeans were being pulled off!

   "Oh, my God!" she cried, putting the dress down on the 
table.  "You stop that, right now!"

   "Stop what?"

   "You know.  You're trying to undress me!"  she cried, 
as she frantically tried to pull her tight jeans back up 
again.

   "Of course I am," an exasperated Mickey replied.  
"Jesus!  Do you want to try on the dress or don't you?"

   "Oh.  Uh, sorry," said the terribly chagrined 
teenager.

   "All right, then.  Stop complaining, will you?  As a 
matter of fact, you might even try helping me a little, 
or we'll be here all night."

   Cynthia started to remove her top and bra while Mickey 
went back to pulling down the girl's jeans.

   She noticed that Mickey had to repeatedly run her hand 
between her upper thighs in her struggle to take off her 
tight jeans, inadvertently rubbing Cynthia's sensitive 
crotch underneath the thin panties in the process.  By 
the time Mickey had worked the stubborn jeans past her 
flaring hips and down her shapely legs, the topless 
Cynthia was feeling quiet breathless.

   Cynthia was just going to ask her to be more careful 
when Mickey's hand managed to flick Cynthia's erect 
hyper-sensitive clitoris just once too often.  "Oh NO!  
Not again!" she cried as the orgasm hit the unsuspecting 
teenager.

   Stunned, she could only hang desperately onto the work 
table as her body gave in yet again, her vagina 
uncontrollably pulsing copious amounts of fluids into the 
crotch band of her tight bikini panties.

    Mickey helped her to sit while the fantastic 
sensations continued to rule her being.  Mickey used the 
opportunity to pull the helpless girl's jeans and shoes 
completely off.

   Wearing just her terribly soiled panties, Cynthia was 
able to only sit dumbfounded.  "Why does this keep 
happening to me??" she wondered.

   "There you go again," Mickey said reprovingly.  "You 
do realize that if you do...that while wearing this 
dress, you will permanently ruin it?"

   "I'm sorry," the teenager sobbed.  "I just can't seem 
to help it!"

   "Let's get you cleaned off first, girl.  Then we'll 
see about the dress.  Stand up."

   The crying girl stood up and allowed Mickey to pull 
off her panties.  She was so embarrassed, it was like she 
had just wet herself.

   "These are a goner," Mickey observed.  She carefully 
placed them aside for future fun and got some damp paper 
towels from the store's rest room.

   She carefully washed and dried the pliant teenager's 
pubes, using the opportunity to repeatedly thrust her 
fingers deep into the unsuspecting girl's tight cuntal 
passage.

   Cynthia's sobs started to change into strange little 
gasps as Mickey's fingers worked their magic on the 
girl's defenseless cunt.

   "UUHH!" gasped the dazed teenager as her second climax 
struck.  She just sat glassy-eyed as the fluids pulsed 
out of her pussy, pooling on the seat between her thighs.

   She could only look on without comprehension as Mickey 
knelt between the seated girl's widespread legs and began 
to clean her crotch again.  But, the same thing kept 
happening!  Cynthia kept soiling herself and Mickey had 
to keep having to clean her off.

   Finally, because her towels were so obviously well-
used by now, it didn't surprise the bewildered and semi-
conscious Cynthia that Mickey started using her mouth and 
tongue to wash her off.

   Cynthia's last sensory impression, before her 
shattered nervous system sent her off to oblivion, was 
that of a strange sound coming from the kneeling Mickey, 
her face buried deep into the seated Cynthia's crotch.  
It was almost like...purring.


   Cynthia awoke feeling very pleasant.  She was nude, 
lying on her back on the work table.  A voice kept 
saying, "You must wear the gown for your father's party."

   "Wha...?"

   "Wear the gown at the party."

   "Can't.  Father would kill.  Hates me without 
underwear."

   Cynthia raised her head enough to see that Mickey's 
hands were kneading her breasts.  "No wonder I feel so 
good," she thought as she lowered her head and closed her 
eyes.

   "Don't worry.  I'll give you something that will 
protect both you and the dress."

   "Honest?  Cool!  I'd like to wear it.  I really would.  
I think it's so beautiful!"

   Mickey reluctantly released Cynthia's breasts and 
picked up a device she had ready on the floor.

   "Look here.  With this you can wear the grown in 
complete safety."  Mickey handed the prone teenager a 
small object in the shape of a half sea-shell.

   Intrigued, Cynthia sat upright on the table.  She 
examined the object closely.  The inside portion of the 
shell had a strange thick ridge running down the center.  
There was even what looked like a miniature battery 
compartment and antenna.  But, try as she might, her 
exhausted mind couldn't figure it out.

   "What does it do?" she finally asked.

   "Watch," Mickey said as she took the object from the 
girl's hands.  She reached between the suddenly anxious 
Cynthia's thighs and placed the shell snugly on her 
vulva.

   "There is a light adhesive that you apply around the 
inner edges for a more secure fit before putting it on.  
Other then that, how do you like it?"

   "It feels...fine, but what is it?  What does it do??"

   "It acts as a set of miniature panties, of course.  
Absorbs moisture and keeps prying eyes away.  What else 
do you need?"

   "Nothing, I guess.  Seems kind of small, though."

   "Listen, you can't wear any regular underwear with 
this, and that includes slips.  Try it on, and you'll see 
what I mean."

   Full of trepidation, Cynthia got off the table and 
walked over to where the magnificent gown was lying.  
"What if I'm not good enough?  What if I'm too fat for 
it?" she agonized to herself.  "What will I do then?"

   She easily slipped into the gown by pulling it over 
her head, the smooth, cool material clinging to her body 
like a second skin.  She pulled up the short zipper in 
back and walked over to one of the wall mirrors.  She 
looked at her reflection with amazement.  

   "Wow!" She couldn't believe it.  She was absolutely 
beautiful in this!  She critically checked her reflection 
front and back and could find no flaw, anywhere.  Even 
her big butt looked small in this!  One thing was 
certain, though.  The way this fitted her, any underwear 
would certainly destroy those fantastic, clean lines 
which the gown made of her athletic figure.

   She had to have it!  She just had to!

   "What do I owe you?"

   "That depends entirely on you.  If you wear it to your 
father's party, $500.  If you don't, then the gown will 
cost you $5000.  So, what's it to be?"

   "$500!"

   "Fine.  Before you pay the bill, just one thing. If 
you decide not to wear it after all, we will add $4500 to 
your bill.  Actually, we'll just spread the additional 
charge through your various credit cards, you have so 
many."

   "Why should you care so much where or when I wear 
this?"

   "Advertising.  You would be surprised at the number of 
people who buy beautiful things like this and then be too 
afraid to wear them.  You see, I know of a potential 
client who will be at your party, and I want to impress 
them.  Now, let me help you out of that beautiful gown."

   As Mickey unzipped the back, and pulled the gown off 
her shoulders, Cynthia saw a pile of familiar looking 
clothes.  "My God!" she thought.  "It's Kathryn's tennis 
outfit.  I forgot all about her!"

   "Is my friend still out front?" she asked.

   "No, she got bored some hours ago waiting for you.  
She and Allison went swimming together somewhere, I 
believe."

   "But I'm her ride!" she exclaimed as the nude girl 
stepped out of the gown.

   "Allison agreed to take her back home.  Seems they 
don't live too far from each other."

   "Oh. That's okay then.  But what about her clothes?"

   "They are coming back here first.  Come on, now.  Step 
into these so we can get you on your way."

   Cynthia obediently stepped into her jeans. Cynthia put 
on her bra and top while Mickey pulled her jeans up over 
her legs and hips.  To Cynthia's disgust, Mickey fastened 
the jeans on the first try.  


   "OOOOHH!"  Cynthia wheezed when the interior denim 
seam came into unexpected contact with her crotch.  
Without her panties, the fabric of her super-tight jeans 
dug cruelly into her vulva.  The constant rubbing of the 
fabric on Cynthia's abused crotch was enough to keep the 
naive teenager in a constant state of excitement during 
her entire trip back to Eastwood Estates.  By the time 
she arrived home, the crotch of her jeans was soaked 
through and through, and she had to sneak in the 
servant's entrance with her gown to avoid being seen by 
anyone.


End Part IV


