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Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
PARTY PUSSIES
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Chapter Eight
We undressed. Petra unlocked our cell. We went back up the steps to
the surface of the earth. Alfonse went first, opening the storm doors of
the cellar for us. Daylight flooded the steps and, climbing, we emerged
into it.
I was nude. We had no clothes. I embraced myself, covering my
breasts. My pussy hairs tasted sunlight. I dipped one of my hands down,
covering them. I saw field hands out in the corn, spraying it, to keep off
the bugs. I felt the sun on my face. The morning breeze was cool. It did
not carry the scent of the spray with it that the field hands were using,
and I was grateful for that.
Feeling awkward, I moved with the group round the house, to its
front. We entered through the front door, much as we had the previous
evening, save we were all naked now, and spent. I wished to leave, knew I
could not. I was too sore. I needed too much to sleep.
We went upstairs. Petra sought me at the top of the stairs, gave me
a kiss. I did not resist. I was too tired.
ÒDo you wish to sleep with me?Ó she asked.
ÒNo,Ó I answered.
ÒAlright,Ó she said. There was a note of disappointment on her
voice. ÒIÕll send in the maid to oil and rub your bottom,Ó she told me.
ÒYes. Thank you,Ó I answered. It was the least she could do, I
thought, after cropping it so severely.
I walked into a bedroom. A bed was already unmade for me, the
covers drawn down to the foot of the bed. The sheets were fresh, waiting.
I flopped into it. I landed on my belly, on purpose. I dare not lay on my
back.
I felt someone flop into the bed beside me. I didnÕt wish to see who.
I was too sleepy. I buried my face in the bedÕs pillow. I kept my eyes
closed, seeking sleep, wishing for it to come, to take me away, to keep me
forever.
ÒYeek!Ó A hand on my bottom. My head flew up. My mouth gasped.
My eyes opened.
ÒRelax, dear,Ó a female voice said. It sounded old, middle-aged at
least. It was the maid.
ÒYes,Ó I breathed. ÒSorry,Ó I apologized. I placed my face into my
pillow again. But I bit it, this time, knowing her touch would hurt.
I felt a cold squirting. Cream. She was squirting cream on my
derriere. I shivered. Even that hurt, a little. Then her fingers. I bit my
pillow hard. Gently she began rubbing me. On my fanny, my seat. I should
have kept my panties on. I shouldnÕt have run away from home. Now I was
lying here, in the home of a woman I didnÕt know the last name of, having
to get my bare bottom rubbed down, to heal it from a cropping sheÕd given
me. I promised myself IÕd go home as soon as I wakened.
In the evening I woke. I saw it was growing dark. For a moment I
thought it was growing light, then I realized dusk was setting in. For a
moment I thought I had to dress for school, eat my breakfast, catch the
bus. Then, just as I realized the light was fading, not growing, I sat up in
my bed.
It wasnÕt my bed. Just on loan, and as my bottomcheeks felt the
sheet underneath them I let out a shout.
Laughter, from another room.
Petra entered. She was carrying a small whip. She was nude,
otherwise, but her hair was done up, and decorated with barrettes and
small bows.
ÒOh, sleepyhead, youÕve finally wakened,Ó she smiled.
ÒYes,Ó I answered. I frowned. My bottom was still quite raw.
ÒTurn over. Let me see what I did to you,Ó Petra said.
ÒNo,Ó I replied. But she walked right up to me, and put a hand on my
shoulder. Before I could resist, (did I wish to?) she rolled me onto my
tummy.
ÒUmmm, yes. What a nice little seat you have. And nicely striped
now.Ó She stroked it. I shivered under her touch. But I managed not to cry
out. My bottom was healing, slowly. It hadnÕt been hurt as much as IÕd
feared.
ÒAnother few hours, a day at most, and it will be all white again,Ó
Petra assured me. Playfully, then, she brought her whip, which had many
thongs, down across my back. ÒThere is still much of you that might bear
up well under punishment,Ó she told me.
ÒNo,Ó I said. I turned my head. I wriggled, lying flat on the bed. I
felt my bosoms, and the hollow mound of my pussy, pressing into the
sheets. I liked, somehow, her promise of torment, but I didnÕt want it. I
slid my hands down my thighs. I felt a desire to touch myself, but kept my
hands, chastely, on the outside of my flanks. ÒJust-- just my bottom,Ó I
said. ÒWhen itÕs better.Ó
ÒYes, when itÕs better,Ó Petra answered. ÒHow sweet your seat is.
You should go look at it in the mirror, really, before all my marks fade.Ó
ÒYes. I will,Ó I said. ÒI will.Ó I hoped sheÕd leave me. She bent
down, instead.
ÒOh!Ó I cried. Her lips kissed my bare ass.
ÒYou have such a lovely bottom,Ó she said.
ÒThank you,Ó I replied.
She departed. With her whip lofted over her shoulder, the bare
thongs trailing down her nude back, she left me. I watched her bottom as
she departed. It wriggled salaciously, as nude as my own, as if she knew
my eyes would be watching it. At the door she turned. I hid my eyes in my
pillow, not wanting her to know IÕd been watching her rump.
ÒBye,Ó she said. But her voice was hopeful. I knew she wished for
me to join her soon, downstairs. Her fingers were itching to find new
ways to torture me.
The night deepened. I rose and bathed. I opened a window in the
bathroom, heard the night sounds. The owl was back. Had it found prey the
previous night? Was it out now, looking for more?
There were no clothes for me to wear. I searched a dresser, found
only menÕs clothes. Perhaps Alfonse and Rico slept here, when there were
no guests. I shuddered. I was glad they hadnÕt taken the liberty of joining
me in their bed, as I slumbered through the long hours of the day.
Where had they slept? No matter. Perhaps it was downstairs, on a
couch. Someplace. It didnÕt matter. I cared nothing for them. But I had a
bit of respect for them, for they were doomed to be servants, all their
lives, something IÕd never have to be. I was free. I had my beauty. My
youth. I could play.
I brushed my hair. There was a small makeup kit in the bathroom.
Perhaps Varona had left it there for me. I did my eyes, put on lipstick. I
felt my hand shiver a little as I applied my lipstick. Who would kiss these
lips, tonight? Tom? Ginger? Petra? Bow? No, not her. I at least would
not stoop to playing her naughty games. Let Bethany lick her snatch, if she
wished. I was too grown up for that. I knew better.
ÒHi!Ó I heard a small voice say. I looked away from the bathroom
mirror. It was her. Little Bow, standing at the door to the bathroom. As I
turned her eyes flitted over my body. I saw longing in her eyes, searching.
She gazed at my bosoms jealously.
ÒA few more years,Ó I said to her. ÒA few more years and you will
have tits of your own.Ó
ÒBut I want them NOW!Ó she said in a high, demanding voice.
ÒYouÕre too young,Ó I replied.
ÒIÕm only 8,Ó she agreed, glumly.
ÒYou should be playing paddycake, or playing with Barbi, and Ken, not
with whips and chains,Ó I told her.
ÒBut I DO play with Barbi and Ken,Ó Bow replied. ÒAnd I want tits,
just like Barbi has. Big ones. Like yours.Ó
ÒMine arenÕt as big as BarbiÕs,Ó I told her. Then I looked down at
them. They were... larger. Had they been growing, under all the male
attention IÕd been getting? They did seem bigger. Definitely. What would
my mom say if, when I came home, none of my bras fit me anymore?
ÒCan I lick your snatch?Ó Bow asked me. There was politeness in her
voice. I think she thought IÕd say Ôyes.Õ
ÒNo,Ó I answered. I drew close to her and touched her head. Her hair
was long, blonde. Almost down to her waist. ÒYou should get your hair
cut. ItÕs summer. YouÕd be cooler, that way,Ó I told her. But immediately
I knew it was only jealousy that I felt. ÒNo,Ó I added, stroking my fingers
through her hair. ÒKeep it that way. YouÕre prettiest with it that way.Ó
Bow touched my belly. ÒYou got fucked last night,Ó she said to me.
She looked up at my eyes. ÒWill you get pregnant now?Ó
I laughed. ÒI hope not!Ó I told her. I frowned, a little. When had I
last taken my pill? At RobinÕs? Yes, I think so. I certainly didnÕt want to
bear TomÕs child. We had only been... playing. A quick fuck, nothing more.
And I didnÕt exactly have a choice about it, with my knees hung up over the
log, and my pussy defenseless.
ÒHere,Ó Bow told me. She opened her hand. SheÕd been holding
something in it, I saw. A small blue pill. ÒPetra told me to tell you to
swallow this.Ó
ÒOh. Thanks,Ó I said. It was a pill. To keep me from getting
pregnant. The night promised that, I suppose, although if IÕd been given a
chance to leave, I would have left, instead. I preferred Robin. Just Robin,
and Bethany, I guess, since she was my friend. Although I would have left
her behind too if I could have.
I went to the sink. There was a glass in the cupboard. It had paper
over it, just like in a hotel. Verona was thoughtful. She knew how to take
care of her guests. PetraÕs guests, actually. I removed the paper from the
glass. I filled it under the tap. I swallowed my pill. I brushed back my
hair. Was I ready? Ready for the night? I had no clothes on. Perhaps I
was ready, then, whether I wished to be or not.
Swallowing my pill, I turned to Bow. She smiled at me. It was a
simple girlÕs smile, an 8-year-oldÕs smile. I ran my hands down my
smooth, taut belly. A sparkle of mischief came into BowÕs eyes. She knew
where babies came from.
ÒYouÕd best be good, or youÕll need a pill too,Ó I warned her.
ÒIÕm only eight,Ó Bow replied, matter-of-factly. Then she looked up
at me. Her eyes were sincere. ÒHow many babies do you want to have?Ó
she asked.
ÒNone!Ó I answered.
ÒOooh, I want to have lots of babies,Ó Bow said. She jabbed her belly
button with her finger. ÒThen I can have fun feeding them all, and putting
diapers on all of them.Ó
ÒYes,Ó I answered. ÒYouÕd be quite busy then. YouÕd have no time for
playing in dungeons.Ó
ÒI know. IÕd be a mommie then,Ó Bow agreed. ÒBut in the meantime,
wanna see my teddy bear? HeÕs my pretend baby. His name is Bert!Ó
ÒBert?Ó I laughed. ÒLike Bert and Ernie on Sesame Street?Ó
ÒYes,Ó Bow said. She moved closer. Her breath exhaled on my belly.
She plucked at my pubic hair with her fingers, a bit curiously, for she
herself had none. ÒI wanted to call him Ernie, but my friend SallyÕs teddy
bear is named Ernie. So I called mine Bert. ThereÕs one for you too, if
youÕd like to be his mommie.Ó
ÒWhatÕs his name?Ó I asked.
ÒI dunno,Ó she replied. Gently Bow slid a finger under my sex,
stroked my feminine lips, felt (I imagine) their wetness. She did not say
anything.
ÒWell, thatÕs just as well. Then I can name my bear,Ó I replied.
ÒYes!Ó Bow agreed. ÒThatÕs what weÕll do. My bear is Bert, and you
have to name yours.Ó
ÒOkay,Ó I answered.
Bow withdrew her finger from under my pubic lips and curled it
around the thumb of my hand. ÒCÕmon,Ó she invited.
We left my bedroom. We padded down the hall, both of us barefoot,
me fresh from my bath, and Bow, though I guessed sheÕd been put in the
bath, reluctantly, smelling sweetly of Mr. Bubble.
Bow invited me into her bedroom. It had a big bed. Bow hopped up on
it and began jumping up and down. Her blonde tresses flew up and down
with her bouncing figure. She grinned happily. She was oblivious to the
nudity of her snatch, of her bare budding titties, of her long lean little girl
legs.
ÒBow! Stop!Ó I cried. Why do adults always stop the young in their
fun? I donÕt know. I guess I was afraid sheÕd go bouncing right off the
bed, and break one of her long lovely legs when she landed on the floor.
Beds werenÕt made for jumping on, anyway.
ÒWHEEEE! I can jump on my bed if I wanna!Ó Bow cried. She
continued her display. So, in hopes of distracting her into quieter pursuits
(I worried the men might think I was jumping up and down with her), I
sidled over to her vast collection of stuffed animals.
That brought her running. With a proprietorÕs eye, Bow jumped down
from her bed and came hurrying over to assist me in interacting with her
collection.
ÒThis is Quigley, and Junior, and Beanie,Ó Bow told me. She named
off all her stuffed animals, introducing me to each of them. I nodded my
head. I noticed two of them, big teddy bears, had straps on their backs.
Bow took one down. She shouldered it and slipped it onto her back.
ÒSee? I can wear Bert as a caboose!Ó Bow told me happily. I
laughed.
ÒYou mean a papoose!Ó I replied.
ÒYou can wear the other one. What name are you going to give it?Ó
Bow asked me.
ÒI donÕt know,Ó I replied. I took down the other big bear with straps
on its back. ÒWhat name do you think would be best for it?Ó
Bow drew close. She made me bend down. She whispered in my ear.
ÒHow about Robin?Ó Bow asked.
ÒOh.Ó I answered. ÒIs that the name youÕd like me to give it?Ó
ÒYes,Ó she said. ÒBut donÕt tell him. WeÕll let it be a surprise.Ó
ÒOkay,Ó I said.
ÒAnd one thing more,Ó Bow added. ÒRobinÕs big thing leaks a lot, and
shoots sometimes too. We need to put diapers on him!Ó
ÒI agree!Ó I laughed. ÒDo you have any diapers?Ó
ÒYes. Right here,Ó Bow said. She opened a dresser drawer, still
wearing her teddy bear. It flopped on her back, grinning at me when she
wasnÕt.
Bow took out diapers. She had pins to go with them. ÒHere,Ó she
said.
We knelt on the floor. It was immaculately clean. I sat with my
bottom wedged between my heels, leaving space between it and the floor.
It still hurt from the cropping Petra had given me.
Tenderly, with only the care two girls can give, we diapered my bear.
Robin. We pinned up his diapers and adjusted them so they wouldnÕt fall
down, revealing the (admittedly neutered) space between his legs.
ÒThere,Ó Bow said, finally. ÒRobin will get a big surprise when he
finds out we named this bear after him, and had to diaper him too!Ó
ÒWhat about your bear?Ó I asked. I brushed my long hair back from
my face. We both enjoyed, I think, this quiet respite from men and their
demands. We were just two little girls, playing, her with breasts just
starting to grow and me, at 13, with breasts that were embarrassingly
large.
ÒMy bearÕs a girl bear,Ó Bow replied seriously.
ÒBut your bear is named Bert!Ó I said.
ÒThatÕs just her pretend name, so boys think sheÕs a boy, and donÕt
pick on her,Ó Bow said. ÒReally her name is Priscilla.Ó
ÒOkay,Ó I said. I was beginning to feel a bit confused by all her
childish thinking. Suddenly I wanted to be with adults. I could hear them
downstairs, talking. But I liked my new bear. I decided to bring it along. I
picked it up, diapers ringing its waist (though I myself was nude), and put
it onto my back. It wore like a backpack. I reached up and held the straps
that slung down over my front. Between my hands my boobs jiggled
nakedly.
ÒThese bears will protect us, and keep us safe!Ó Bow assured me.
ÒYouÕll be safest if you tuck yourself into bed and go to sleep,Ó I told
her. ÒItÕs after 8:30.Ó
ÒOh, pooh!Ó Bow replied. She exhaled her breath loudly, saying it,
blowing her blonde hair away from her eyes and her face. ÒI go to bed only
when my teddy gets tired.Ó
ÒAnd your muffin?Ó I asked. She looked up at me.
ÒMy muffin never gets tired,Ó she replied. But I donÕt know, given
her childishness, if we were actually taking about the same thing.
We trooped downstairs. Our bears flopped amiably on our backs. I
felt the fur of mine pressing softly against my back, my hair hanging down
over it, giving it the appearance of wearing a wig. Bow wore hers a little
more considerately. Her bear was neatly hung outside her long mane of
hair. It pushed her hair up a little, giving it a fuller appearance. My boobs
bounced easily as we descended the stairs in the nude. Petra and her
guests looked up at us. I smiled, lowered my eyes. I felt soft. I was bare.
I would be a girl again, and the men would have to treat me with the
utmost deference.
ÒHi,Ó I whispered, when Bow and I had reached the bottom of the
stairs and approached the men. I smiled a little at Robin. I did not know
who the other man was. I did not see Tom, or Ginger. But Petra was there,
and a new female. Petra wore riding gear, as if fresh from riding. Her
new female companion wore a light party dress. It was cut low in front,
showing her bosoms, almost right down to the points of her titties. It
was easy to see that she wore no bra between her dress and her breasts.
The sides of her dress were slit, revealingly, almost up to her hips. Yet
she had her legs crossed, as if in a half-hearted attempt to retain her
modesty after letting herself be brought all the way out to PetraÕs estate.
The new man, whose name I didnÕt know yet, whose face and figure I
still was apprising, shyly, as I stood next to Bow with my teddy bear,
wore a suit. HeÕd taken off his jacket and loosened his tie. I thought I
saw a bulge in the front of his trousers. But didnÕt want to look too
closely. I was innocent. I liked being a little girl again. Yet, strangely, to
be totally a little girl, like Bow, I had to be unaware of my nudity. I stood
easily, next to her, letting my pussy show, hoping I looked artless.
ÒTurn around,Ó Petra told me. ÒShow our new friends your bottom.Ó
She motioned at me with a riding crop she held. She adjusted the peaked
riderÕs crop on her head.
I obeyed. I was submissive. I felt my bottomcheeks clench as I
turned. I didnÕt want to show my hiney! I heard the female guest gasp.
ÒWould you like to have a red bottom, like she has?Ó Petra asked the
young woman matter-of-factly.
ÒA-a little,Ó the woman gushed. Her voice sounded shivery.
ÒIÕd like to see it,Ó the new man said. Was he her husband, or just
her boyfriend? Why did he need to bring her all the way out here to redden
her ass? Was she recalcitrant? Did she prohibit him, yet remain willing,
if he could connive it, to submit to a proper mistress in a proper dungeon?
ÒLetÕs see what sort of color your ass has to it right now,Ó Petra
told the new female guest. I turned back around. I faced them. The
female looked up at Petra, wide-eyed, clutching a drink. Petra took it
from her hand.
With a sudden motion, Petra threw the drink into the womanÕs face.
ÒOh!Ó the woman cried. Liquor spilled down from her eyes and her
cheeks and splashed onto her bosom. Neatly, with perfect decorum, Petra
placed the womanÕs empty glass on a low table next to her chair.
ÒMy, IÕm sorry, dear. I seem to have wet your dress,Ó Petra said.
She bent over the woman. She reached down and, grabbing her dress by its
front, she tore it open.
The woman gasped anew. Her breasts, bare and jiggling, were
revealed to our eyes. They were fine young teats, full and with perfect,
pointed tips to them. They looked like bosoms that would surely have
babies clamoring to suckle from them in a few short years. For a moment,
I wished I could be one of her future babies, though I had fine uptilted
breasts of my own.
Petra took the womanÕs hand. ÒStand up, Annette,Ó Petra told her.
With her face still wet from her drink, Annette stood. Swiftly Petra tore
the remains of her ruined dress from her hips. Annette watched the dress
fall to her ankles. Reluctantly she stepped out of it.
ÒOh, yes. How white your bottom is!Ó Petra said. She turned Annette
so her back faced her. She patted her fanny, lightly. Annette flinched. It
was a high, round bottom, perfect, I suppose, from the male point of view,
for fucking.
ÒCome. I want you to meet another anal virgin, like yourself,Ó Petra
told Annette. She drew the young woman over to me! I stood staring up at
her, being a little shorter than her, for I was 13, she perhaps 19, or 20.
Petra introduced us. We were both nude, our hair pretty, our makeup
perfect (though AnnetteÕs face still glistened with her spilt liquor). Our
bosoms poked at each other.
ÒYes, you will both lose your anal virginity tonight,Ó Petra assured
us. I was still feeling too submissive to try to contradict her. Annette
gazed at me, I gazed meekly back. ÒKiss, both of you,Ó Petra said. ÒGreet
each other with your lips and your bodies. This is no ordinary party. YouÕll
be spending the night together. Get to know one another!Ó Petra pressed
upon each of our bottoms. Her hands were gloved. Our tushies were bare.
The touch of her glove on my ass made me wince. (Though more from fear,
I think, than from real pain, for my bottom was healing quickly.)
Annette let herself be pushed toward me. I was the same, letting
myself be pushed toward her. Suddenly, impulsively, our arms embraced
each other. Mine slipped around her waist. Hers slipped around mine. I
thought I heard Bow, watching, gasp. My lips touched AnnetteÕs. We
kissed. Her lips opened to mine. Her tongue extended, tentatively, out to
my lips. I opened my mouth. Her tongue jabbed in, looking for my tongue.
I let her find it. We dueled a little, with our tongues, as we stood there
kissing. Our breasts rubbed. Our nipples, hard and pointed, tried to
penetrate each otherÕs bosoms. Our bellies, beginning to aquire a sheen of
desire-induced sweat, pressed together. I wished she had a penis. I guess
she wished the same of me. But we were just two girls, exploring, letting
our bodies mold pleasurably for the delight of the men.
I tilted my head. I let her tongue invade more deeply. I felt her gasp.
Her breath entered my mouth. Was she excited by my submissiveness?
Yet, when I pushed her tongue back with my own, she relented, let me
enter her. We were both submissive. I stuck my tongue far in her mouth
and she gasped again. Ah, I liked the taste of her, so sweet and soft, so
pliant.
ÒOuch!Ó Annette suddenly cried. Had I hurt her? I felt her face pull
away. I looked at her worriedly. Then I saw, from the corner of my eye,
PetraÕs crop uplifted. I remembered the sound of leather against bare
flesh, applied smartly. Petra had given AnnetteÕs bottom an admonitory
whack. I was glad she hadnÕt hit me. IÕd had enough of her crop.
ÒI didnÕt tell you to mate with each other,Ó Petra laughed. Annette
let go of me. Her hands flew to her bottom and she massaged it, though
sheÕd only been struck lightly. Was it her first taste of the whip? Of
being spanked? I could only guess and wish, ruefully, that I was as
innocent as she of such things. I reached back and rubbed my own bottom.
Petra admired us, both females under her control, both assauging our bare
asses in front of her.
ÒYes, I think you will both train very well,Ó Petra said. She spoke as
if we were horses. Young mares.
ÒWhere is Tom?Ó I asked her.
ÒYou will have a new penis tonight, plunging into your bottom,
breaking you in,Ó Petra answered me. With a sense of fright I turned my
head. I looked at the new man. He was handsome, but I didnÕt even know
his name! Gallantly, sitting on the sofa with his legs crossed, he saluted
me with a wave of his hand. His legs were crossed in the manly way, one
perpendicular to the other, not parallel, as a woman crosses her legs.
Within the large space left by his crossed legs I could see his crotch. It
was bulging quite visibly now.
Robin, my beau, was barechested. Apparently, as Petra had been
doing her riding, he had been tasked with cleaning out her stables. Now,
freshly bathed (for so I surmised, looking at him), he wore a fresh pair of
jeans, buttoned around his waist, but was barefoot, and still barechested,
as if he might be called again to go clean the stables some more. (All this
I guessed, piecing it together from the conversations weÕd had, as weÕd
chatted the night before. Petra had said she wanted to do some riding.
SheÕd asked Robin if heÕd clean her stables for her. HeÕd nodded, politely,
but with, I thought, a desire to be submissive to her in his eyes.)
Bethany appeared. She walked in from the kitchen, nude as myself
and Bow. She was munching on animal crackers. She didnÕt know there
was company, I guess (perhaps sheÕd been watching T.V. in the den). When
she saw the new man amongst us, she started. She clapped a hand to her
muff.
Petra smiled. ÒGo fetch us a bottle of baby oil, dear Beth,Ó Petra
said matter-of-factly to the girl. ÒWeÕre going downstairs to the dungeon
in a minute.Ó
ÒIÕm watching GilliganÕs Island,Ó Bethany replied.
ÒYou can see Gilligan later,Ó Petra said.
ÒBut itÕs the episode with the Tiki bird in it,Ó Bethany said.
ÒThe baby oil, darling,Ó Petra said. She flexed her crop in her hands,
made sure Bethany saw her doing it.
ÒOh!Ó Bethany declared. ÒAll we do is fuck, fuck, fuck! I want to
watch GilliganÕs Island!Ó And she turned, hotly, and hurried away, leaving
half an animal cracker on the rug. SheÕd dropped it when Petra told her we
were going down to the dungeon.
ÒI shall get the oil,Ó Petra told us. She flexed her crop again. ÒBow,
youÕre in charge. Tell them a story while I get us some oil.Ó
ÒOkay!Ó Bow announced. All eyes turned to her. We were, as all
guests are, deferential to the demands of a child. ÒOnce upon a time my
teddy bear -- wait--.Ó She took off her bear. She displayed him to us,
especially to the men, and Annette, who hadnÕt been introduced to him yet.
ÒMy teddy bear -- his name is Bert -- and he has a secret name too, but I
canÕt tell it. Anyway, Bert was going over to his friend SallyÕs house.
ThatÕs Ôcause her teddy bear is named Ernie. Bert and Ernie, see?Ó Beth
said happily.
Just then Petra returned. She had a new bottle of Johnson and
JohnsonÕs baby oil in her hands. Her reappearance ended BowÕs story. The
girl seemed not to mind. She had said all she could think of, I think. Her
story had yet to be imagined, as most childrenÕs stories are, being made up
as they go along.
Petra walked over to AnnetteÕs beau. She flipped open the top of the
brand new bottle of baby oil. She bent. She undid the manÕs zipper. I still
didnÕt know his name. Petra pointed her bottle of baby oil at the hole left
in the manÕs crotch by the undoing of the his zipper. The manÕs underpants
bulged through the hole. Petra aimed. She squirted.
ÒHey! These are expensive pants!Ó the man protested.
ÒOh. Expensive underpants. How nice,Ó Petra said. She kept
squirting, a long, lucid squirt that went all over the bulge the man was
presenting through his crotch.
ÒNot my underpants, my pants!Ó the man said.
ÒOh, you want baby oil squirted on your pants?Ó Petra asked.
ÒAh, God!Ó the man said. He stood bolt upright. Petra was thrown
back by his sudden movement. I thought he might hit her. He looked quite
strong. Instead, he reached down for his belt. He undid it. Then he shoved
down his trousers. His underpants went down next.
I gave a startled gasp. The manÕs penis was huge! Not bigger than
RobinÕs, I donÕt think. Perhaps just a little. It waggled at Petra.
Completely nonplussed, though he possessed quite a monster, she aimed
her bottle of baby oil once more at his loins. This time, since he was
barehipped now, when she squirted she hit him right on the tip of his dick.
ÒIÕm just making you nice and wet, darling,Ó Petra told the man with
a sly smile.
ÒAnd what about you?Ó he asked. He clearly had an admiration for
her.
Petra lifted off her cap. Her long brown hair had been piled under
her cap but, when she took it off, her hair spilled all down her shoulders.
It was glossy, curly.
Petra kept squirting the manÕs penis. She squirted all the way along
his shaft. When sheÕd finally gotten him dripping wet, she squirted
underneath him, on his balls.
ÒI donÕt fuck with those,Ó the man told Petra. She laughed. She
enjoyed squirting him. I think she would have squirted him all over, if she
could. But there was still Robin to attend to.
My boyfriend undid his jeans. I watched. My breath caught in my
throat when he lowered them. He was nude underneath. He wore no
underpants. I heard Annette emit an appreciative sigh. RobinÕs bare buns
were tight, small. They stood out like twin white muffins. His legs were
hairy and tanned. Robin kicked off his jeans. He was utterly naked now.
Petra approached him.
ÒSuch an eager boy!Ó Petra complimented Robin. Even standing
almost behind him, as Annette and I were, we could see the prominence of
his cock sticking out. Not all of it, of course. Just the tip. It wiggled,
involuntarily. Petra anointed his purplish knob with a squirt of baby oil.
ÒAh,Ó Robin said. He flinched a little, as the baby oil struck him. I
wondered what it felt like, having a big dick like that, being squirted
down. I would never know. I was made to receive, not to present.
Lovingly Petra bathed RobinÕs penis completely in baby oil. Then she
turned to me.
ÒYouÕre next,Ó Petra said. She made me bend my knees and open my
dell for her. I gasped. She squirted baby oil into my slit. Annette was
next. The men watched. When Petra had finished, she asked us to wait
while she undressed. Our eyes shifted to her. Slowly she took off her
clothes.
ÒAre you men ready for our party tonight?Ó Petra asked. She liked
winning their attention and keeping it. As if her pinup poster body wasnÕt
enough already. She slipped off her riding jacket. She unbuttoned her
blouse. ÒWell, itÕs going to be a long party, that I can assure you. I hope
youÕre both up to it.Ó She glanced slyly at Robin. HeÕd been worked last
night, perhaps again while I slept. ÒThereÕs only two of you, you know.
And all us females. WeÕll be expecting a lot of you boys.Ó
Petra finished undressing. She replaced her riding cap on her head.
She didnÕt bother to pile her hair underneath it again. She kept on a red
neckerchief that sheÕd tied around her neck. On her hands she retained
leather gloves. They were short. They only covered her hands and her
wrists. I liked them. They looked pretty on her. But I was a little afraid
of them too, for they made her look quite commanding. On her feet she
kept her knee-length riderÕs boots. She picked up her crop.
Petra swished her crop through the air. She looked at Annette. ÒYes,
dear. ItÕs time you felt this,Ó she said to the young woman. ÒYouÕve the
perfect bottom for it. Really. Let me see?Ó She stalked round behind
Annette. The girl clasped her arms over her bosoms, hiding them, but
leaving her bare ass sticking out for Petra to inspect.
ÒAhhh, so pretty. And it will be so red and sore after weÕre through
tonight. WonÕt it, Luke?Ó Petra asked AnnetteÕs boyfriend.
ÒYeah,Ó Luke grinned. Petra swung the crop, moderately hard, and
struck Annette on her fanny.
ÒOuch!Ó Annette blurted. Immediately her hands flew to her behind.
She rubbed it.
ÒMmmm. ThatÕs just the first of many,Ó Petra assured Annette. The
girl looked at her beau. He only grinned back at her. I stood back a little
from Annette. I was afraid I might get smacked too.
ÒAnnette, would you please pour more drinks for the men? I have to
be absent a minute,Ó Petra told the woman sheÕd just smacked. Annette
gaped at her. ÒAll is not punishment, my dear,Ó Petra told her. ÒThe
drinks. The maid has stepped out. Refill the menÕs drink glasses. IÕll be
back in a minute and then weÕll go downstairs.Ó
Petra walked from the room. Beyond the big woolen throw rugs, the
floor was bare tile. Her boots clicked loudly upon it. I saw her heading
for the kitchen. The den was beyond. I guessed she was going to fetch
Bethany.
Annette, still shocked from her first taste of the leather on her
behind, went to the wet bar and picked up a bottle of liquor. She came
back, carrying it. ÒWho wants more gin?Ó she asked.
ÒMe,Ó Robin told her.
ÒMe,Ó Luke said. Carefully Annette refilled the menÕs glasses. They
had ice in them. The gin mixed with the melting ice. She rubbed her bare
ass as she filled up their glasses. Then she went to her own. She poured
more gin into her own glass. ÒDo you want some?Ó she asked me.
ÒSure,Ó I said. She went to the wet bar and got me ice. She scooped
it out of the wet barÕs small freezer with her bare hands. She dropped the
cubes in a glass for me. ÒAny mixer?Ó she asked.
ÒSeven up,Ó I answered.
ÒOWWWW!Ó came loudly from behind me. I turned. Petra had Bethany
by the ear. ÒBut I want to watch GilliganÕs Island!Ó Bethany yelled. I
watched her boobies bounce on her chest. She wore no clothes. She was
as naked as Bow and I, yet she chose to be difficult. I think she liked
being that way sometimes. It made her special, in her mind.
ÒStand still. I have to squirt baby oil in your dell,Ó Petra told
Bethany. The girl stopped. She looked down over her breasts at her
tummy. ÒBend your knees,Ó Petra said. Bethany, with a quick glance at
me, obliged. Petra insinuated her fingers into the girlÕs snatch.
ÒOH!Ó Bethany cried.
ÒShhhh. IÕm making you nice and wet,Ó Petra told the 12-year-old
girl.
ÒMake me wet too!Ó Bow said.
ÒNo, dear. You shouldnÕt even be watching,Ó Petra answered. ÒYouÕre
too little.Ó
ÒIÕm in third grade! ThatÕs big enough! I know all about dicks and
pussies!Ó Bow said.
ÒThere,Ó Petra said to Bethany. She ignored little Bow. She released
BethanyÕs cuntlips. ÒYouÕre up first tonight, dear. Did you take your pill?Ó
ÒI think so...Ó Bethany said, wide-eyed.
ÒWell, youÕre going to be installed in the chair,Ó Petra said. ÒI hope
for your sake you took your pill. YouÕre going to milk both men to make
them less randy when they have to be put to Annette and Lisa.Ó
Bethany looked at me. I returned her look of incomprehension. I
didnÕt know anything about a Ôchair.Õ Or about what evils Petra had
planned for myself and Annette. Except that I knew AnnetteÕs bottom
would be as red as the sunrise by morning. Petra had already promised
that.
ÒAnd me too! Let me milk the men too!Ó Bow said impetuously.
ÒIÕm going to send you up to your room if you donÕt act your age,Ó
Petra warned the girl. (Of course, if she did act her age, not asking
repeatedly to be fucked, she got to go to an orgy, which struck me as
rather strange.)
ÒOh, alright,Ó Bow said. ÒAt least IÕll have Bert with me.Ó She
shrugged her shoulders, hoisting the bear that hung from her back. She
looked at me. ÒHeÕs really a boy,Ó she assured me.
ÒMine too,Ó I answered.
We walked outside into the night. What a strange procession we
must have made! Petra led the men. She was clad but unclad in her riding
gear. The men loped along beside her. Their big penises stuck out from
them like batons. They bobbled freely. Petra kept them mindful of her
crop by aimlessly (or so it seemed) swishing it alongside herself. It
whipped through the air past her thighs, and past the thighs of the men
who walked at her flanks. A quick flick of her wrist and she could deliver
instant pain to their erect penises. Perhaps it excited them, being so
vulnerably displayed to her crop like that.
Bow and I followed. We carried our bears on our backs. Bethany
liked my bear, his diapers. She wished she could have one to keep her
company, but we only had two. I told her she could have my bear on the
trip back up from the dungeon. That satisfied her.
Walking alongside Bethany was Annette. They held hands. Annette
had red hair and it streamed off her shoulders, lifted by the light breeze.
The owl was out again. I heard it screech. It was looking for prey.
The men lifted the storm door to the cellar open for us. How
courteous, I thought, except it was a wry sort of courtesy, I thought, since
we were, unequivocally, being led toward a fate that would leave us girls
raw and sore. Nonetheless, I gave both men a shy smile as I passed. I
didnÕt wish to be difficult, as Bethany was sometimes. I wished to please.
I wished to be admired as pleasing. It was in my nature. But I felt
apprehension, for a female asked to please a man in a dungeon can get
herself into more than she wishes to.
Could I cope? I didnÕt know. I would try. That was all I could do,
wasnÕt it? Try to please my boyfriend, Robin, and the new man, Luke, that
Petra had assigned me to meet. Yes, I would do my best. Both menÕs big
penises throbbed at me as I passed between them. Their sacs were full
beneath, hanging like taut, hairy bags. A touch of my finger might set
them off.
Bow passed between them next. She wished to suck upon them,
tried, was given a quick slap on her bottom by Petra.
Next, with me leading the way this time into the darkness, came
Bethany and Annette. I heard them both squeal, as they passed the men.
Standing halfway down the ladder, trying to find the next rung with my
bare foot, I looked up. I couldnÕt see what was happening. BowÕs bottom
wiggled nakedly above my eyes. Her long hair shifted across her back. I
saw feet, a glimpse of cunt, above her. I noticed light growing in the
dungeon. A new invention? Perhaps a servant had installed a bulb that
would slowly lighten the chamber once the doors had been lifted. I was
grateful. I looked up again, tried to catch a glimpse of the stars above the
open hatchway. But there were too many people on the ladder now.
ÒDonÕt drip your sperm on my head!Ó I heard Bethany announce
petulantly. Robin, or was it Luke? was above her. The menÕs dicks leaked
precum. Bow, the little slut, lifted her head and opened her mouth wide,
hoping to catch some.
The cage. It stood before us in the now bright light of the dungeon.
We would be locked in it again, in with all that awful equipment.
Somewhere in there waited Ôthe chairÕ. Bethany would be bound into it,
her feet spread, I guessed. What other use could there be for such an
innocently named device in such a diabolical place? The men would mate
with her. They would loose their sperm inside her, to make them a little
bit easier for Annette and I to take up our bottoms.
Petra moved ahead of me. She alone was clothed. The rest of us
were stark naked. Her clothes were minimal, though. Just gloves and
boots, a cap, a scarf. And her handy riding crop. Were we animals? She
unlocked the cage door. She swung it open. With a beckoning of her crop,
she herded us into her cage. Then, when we were all inside, she swung the
door closed again, locking herself in with her pets. She smiled. She had
us all at her beck and call now. Annette and I were too inexperienced to
challenge her. Bethany and Bow were too little. The men, Robin and Luke,
were in thrall to her, and too hard to think of anything but obeying her
whims. We were all wet with baby oil in our privates. (Except little Bow,
of course, who longed to be.)
ÒThe purpose of our party is pain,Ó Petra announced. She eyed
Annette, who was new. Then Bethany, then me. She ignored Bow. Then she
let her eyes fasten themselves on first one manÕs tool, then the other.
ÒAnd pleasure,Ó she added, almost as an afterthought. She lifted a gloved
hand. She used it to brush back her hair. Then she advanced on Annette,
cat-like. She touched the womanÕs face.
ÒHow much pain can you stand, hmmm, Annette? And how much
pleasure? WeÕll find out tonight, IÕm sure. Or at least weÕll begin to.Ó
Annette was shivering. SheÕd never been in a dungeon before. I
wished I hadnÕt been. I was only 13, after all. I shouldnÕt be here. I
should be home, content with Love@AOL on the Net, reading messages
posted by dweebs. But instead I was here, naked, my pussy wet with baby
oil. I swallowed. I prayed I could survive whatever Petra had planned for
us. I wondered if the two randy men, hard as they were, and desperate,
would really step in and save me if Petra got out of hand. I hoped they
would. I trusted Robin. I didnÕt know Luke.
The servants had already come and gone. They had prepared our cell
beforehand. Fresh cut flowers stood in a crystal vase on a wooden table.
Droplets of water clung to their petals. On the barred wall of the cell,
incongrously, someone had hung a painting, or a print of a painting, by
Matisse. The sofas were clean. There was no sign of our soapy play from
the night before. And, quite grimly, the equipment that made this cell so
forbidding waited beyond the twin sofas.
ÒPlease, have a seat,Ó Petra invited us. Quietly we padded past her,
past her easily-applied crop, our bottoms flinching as we passed, and sat
down on the sofas. Bow and I unshouldered our teddy bears and gave them
a seat of their own beside ourselves on the couch.
We were seated as weÕd been the night before. Except now, instead
of having Tom beside me, I had Luke. Bethany flanked his other side. Bow
sat next to Bethany. Her teddy bear, Bert, sat next to her.
Bow finished arranging her teddy bear on the sofa. She stood up. She
walked over to the table with the flowers atop it. She opened a drawer
that hung underneeath the table. She took out a bubble wand and a bottle
of oil to make bubbles with. Perhaps she had secreted the items in the
drawer when last she had played down here, by herself. Or perhaps
Verona, to keep her busy, had left the items there for her. In any event,
with her wand and her bottle of oil, Bow plopped down on the couch next to
Bethany. The two of them were soon sharing the bubble wand. They held it
for each other, while the other blew into it, making bubbles. The big
diaphanous spheres wobbled from the wandÕs tip into the air. They rose
toward the ceiling, where they eventually shattered against the barred
roof of our cell. Petra ignored them.
There was a bucket of ice next to the vase of flowers. Within it was
a bottle of white wine. Arranged around the bucket were glasses, but not
enough for us all. We would have to share. Petra drew the bottle from the
ice. It was slick with melted water. She gave it and a corkscrew to Luke.
Manfully he opened it, while she stood over him, watching. When the
bottle was open Petra herself served our glasses. Annette was forced to
sip from the same glass as Robin. He held the glass for her as she sipped.
Luke and I shared a glass. He held it for me. My breasts caressed his arm
as I drank from it.
ÒOoooh, I want some!Ó Bow cried out.
ÒYou get Kool-Aid, my dear,Ó Petra told her. ÒYou too Bethany.Ó
ÒIÕm not eight,Ó Bethany protested.
ÒI know youÕre not, dear. ThatÕs why IÕm putting you in the chair, to
receive the menÕs sperm. Nonetheless, to keep Bow happy, please share a
glass of Kool-Aid with her.Ó
Bethany rolled her eyes. But, perhaps feeling submissive, she
protested no further. Bow whispered something in her ear, and she
giggled.
ÒWhat was that, girls?Ó Petra asked. She poured Kool-Aid from a
pitcher that stood behind the ice bucket. She brought the glass over to the
girls.
ÒBow says the lemonade looks like pee,Ó Bethany laughed.
ÒIÕm not drinking that. ItÕs pee!Ó Bow confirmed.
ÒOpen your mouth, dear. Such pretty lips,Ó Petra said to Bethany.
The blonde looked up at the woman. PetraÕs fingers touched her lips. She
opened BethanyÕs mouth, prying BethÕs lips and teeth apart, until the girl
looked like a horse about to receive a bit. Petra poured in the lemonade.
Bethany choked a little. Then she swallowed quickly, to keep up with
PetraÕs pouring.
ÒThere. Did that taste like pee?Ó Petra asked Bethany.
ÒNoooo,Ó Bethany agreed. She was quite submissive now. She folded
her hands in her lap like a little schoolgirl. But unlike a girl in school she
had not a stitch of clothing on. Not panties, not even socks for her feet.
ÒYou see, Bow?Ó Petra told her 8-year-old niece. The woman
returned to the table. The glass was small. She refilled it with the
pitcher.
ÒIt doesnÕt taste like pee,Ó Bethany assured Bow. Petra returned
with the glass. She handed it to Beth.
ÒPour it into her mouth,Ó Petra told Bethany.
As I sipped from the glass Luke held for me, as Robin was given a
drink by Annette, little Bow was made to drink by Bethany. The 8-year-
old resisted a little at first, but Bethany took her lips in her fingers and
forced her, just as she had been forced by Petra. Except for a little
wiggling, Bow swallowed down the entire glassful without incident. I
thought she might wind up spilling it on herself but she didnÕt.
We chatted. Strange as it sounds, we hardly knew each other. We
hadnÕt had time to talk much upstairs. Petra asked Luke about his work.
She sat down, primly, next to Robin. She pretended to ignore the big
aching penis he was carving the air with. Luke, equally stiff and visible,
nonetheless answered PetraÕs questions like a man in a suit having a job
interview.
Annette asked me how Bethany and I ever came to be here, being so
young. I explained as best as I could. She said sheÕd run away at 13, but
only managed to ride the bus out to L.A. SheÕd tried selling herself there,
she laughed, on Sunset Boulevard, wearing her jeans and her backpack. But
the cars only rolled by, ignoring her. Then sheÕd hit on the idea (for she
had only the clothes she was wearing) of cutting her jeansÕ legs off.
Wearing just the remainder, a small swath of denim around her hips, her
legs all bare, and leaving the backpack behind a dumpster, she tried again.
ÒI immediately had three offers,Ó Annette said. Her voice was
cheerful, but a little nervous. Perhaps it was her story, or the coolness of
the air down here in this cellar, or the fact that we were all, despite our
manners and our polite demeanor, locked in a cell. ÒThree offers! Two
cars almost collided with each other in the street.Ó
ÒWhat did you do?Ó Bow asked. Petra frowned. She didnÕt like little
Bow listening to stories about young girls running away, I guessed. But
Bow was all ears. Her bubble wand didnÕt interest her anymore.
ÒI got scared, with so many men suddenly interested in me,Ó Annette
confessed. ÒI ran away.Ó
Petra smiled. I suppose she liked that ending. It wouldnÕt inspire
little Bow to take up the idea. Yet I could almost see the small girl, out
on the dirt road, wearing just her swim panties, sticking her thumb out
and strolling along, hoping a driver might stop and buy her. Fortunately
PetraÕs estate was remote. There was little chance of a car coming by,
even if Bow were to stand by the roadside all day.
ÒI took the bus back home,Ó Annette said. ÒBut I had only my hot
pants now. I looked quite sexy, riding the bus in them. A boy got on the
bus in Nevada and he sat with me. We necked.Ó Annette blushed.
ÒDid he screw you?Ó Luke asked. He looked perturbed.
ÒHe was nice,Ó Annette replied. She let Robin hold their wine glass
and she sipped from it. Perhaps to show her independence from Luke,
despite being his girl friend, she stroked a finger along RobinÕs dick. My
beau, my boyfriend, shuddered at her touch. To get revenge, despite liking
Annette, I stroked the dick of Luke. It throbbed against the tip of my
finger.
ÒWell, we must begin,Ó Petra said. She had a wine glass of her own
and she downed its contents, quickly. She stood. She beckoned with a
wave of her crop.
We stood. Luke took my hand. With his other hand he took hold of
Bethany. She started, feeling him grab her hand. But she acceeded, let him
draw her across the room. Bow strolled behind us. She brought her bubble
wand with her, and blew more bubbles as she walked along. One of them
drifted to LukeÕs butt and burst upon it.
ÒHey!Ó Luke said, startled.
ÒYour ass killed my bubble,Ó Bow pouted.
ÒYouÕll feel more demanding things upon your cute buns than a bubble
before the night is over, I assure you, Luke,Ó Petra told him, laughing.
Robin led Annette. She was shy. She shivered as he made her rise
and walk from the sofa. We trailed back behind the couches and into the
maze of equipment.
ÒOhhh, whatÕs this?Ó Annette asked. She touched a hook dangling
from a device.
ÒPerhaps you will learn about it, soon enough,Ó Petra answered.
ÒBut first we must get Bethany seated.Ó
ÒOhhh, I donÕt want too,Ó Bethany said.
ÒCome, child, here it is,Ó Petra said.
ÒWhat is it?Ó Bethany asked. I might have asked the same thing
myself. There was a large barrel. It looked like it might have once held
moonshine. It was tall, and only half of it remained. I have no idea where
the other half was. It was sawed in half, from top to bottom. It served as
the backdrop for a small leather covered stool. The stool was set within
the curving walls of the barrel. Not quite connected to the stool, but
leaning back from it, was what looked like a narrow seat back. It, like the
stool, was covered in leather. Chains hung suspended above the stool. I
saw metal stirrups fixed to the barrelÕs edges. There was one on the left
side of the barrel, and one on the right. They were at the same height as
the stool. I suddenly realized that a girl might sit in the stool, and lean
back on the seat back, and put her feet up into the stirrups. If she did, her
sex would be shamelessly displayed. Even a man might sit on the stool
and, if he fitted his feet into the stirrups, his erection and even his balls
would be exposed to whatever depredations others might wish to inflict
upon them.
ÒYeek!Ó Bethany cried. Petra took my friend firmly in hand. She
plopped BethanyÕs bare ass down on the leather covered stool. Annette and
I, perhaps inspired by the naughtiness of seeing her thus displayed, moved
forward and grabbed her knees. I lifted her left knee. Annette lifted her
right. We placed her small bare feet into the metal stirrups. There was a
leather strap at the back of each stirrup and, seeing it, I buckled the strap
around BethanyÕs heel, so she couldnÕt remove her foot. Annette did the
same with BethanyÕs other foot.
ÒHer knees too, dear,Ó Petra told me. I felt PetraÕs riding crop touch
my behind. I obeyed. I was fearful she might swat it against me if I
didnÕt. I took the chains which hung down over BethanyÕs left knee. I
wrapped them underneath my friendÕs knee. Then I drew them up, and
attached them high above her to a hook. I had to stand on my tip-toes to
do it. I felt my bare breasts wobble on my chest as I lifted my arms high.
PetraÕs crop grazed my bottom again, making me flinch.
ÒLie back, dear. Make yourself comfortable,Ó Petra told Bethany.
She stroked the girlÕs belly. Rather anxiously, Bethany was leaning back
against the chair back, the back that was not quite attached to the stool.
ÒReach back,Ó Petra told Beth. ÒDo you feel handcuffs back there, dangling
from the back of the barrel?Ó Petra asked.
ÒOoooh, yes. But I canÕt stick-- canÕt stick my hands back that far--
,Ó Bethany protested, though even now, perhaps out of curiousity, she was
doing just that, feeling for the cuffs. Petra stepped into the barrel,
straddling her uptilted thigh. She reached back. Her hair brushed against
BethanyÕs face and breasts as she leaned deeply over the girl. I heard one
click, then another. ÒOh!Ó Bethany cried. But it was too late. Petra had
locked her hands into the cuffs. The woman stepped back out of the barrel.
Bethany was left fruitlessly wriggling her arms, quite trapped now, her
legs akimbo, her wrists cuffed far behind her. Her bare bosoms wobbled
invitingly on her chest. I saw her nipples stiffen. She was ready.
Petra, quite pleased with her wickedness, went to the back wall of
our cell. She drew back a black curtain. I saw whips arranged there, and
other implements, and also several black gags. Annette, standing beside
me, gasped as the things were revealed. I felt butterflies rise in my
tummy. I palmed my belly, wished I wasnÕt here. But I was, and I couldnÕt
leave now. My best friend Bethany was trapped on a stool in a barrel!
Petra selected a gag. It was made of silk. She returned to Bethany.
Leaning forward over the girl, she made Bethany accept the silk gag in her
mouth. She knotted it behind the girlÕs head.
ÒNow you are ready, my sweet,Ó Petra said. Yet there was one thing
more. Petra took hold of some ropes that were fixed to the chair back.
She drew their length out in her palms. Then, quite ruthlessly, she bound
the ropes around BethanyÕs breasts.
ÒOh! Yeek! No! Please!Ó Bethany cried through her gag. It muffled
her protests, making her words sound silly. When Petra was done, the
girlÕs bosoms were wrapped by the ropes. They squeezed her tits,
compressing them, making them extrude their bulk out beyond the soft
clamping of the ropes. BethanyÕs nipples stood out like pointed stems on
fat cherries held squeezingly between oneÕs teeth. I thought her breasts
might burst, they looked so plump, so exquisitely bound by the tight ropes.
I longed to lean forward and lick at her nipples. Petra had more sinister
plans.
ÒMy, my, little Bethany, how deliciously you present yourself,Ó Petra
taunted the girl. She went to the back wall again, leaving us to admire
Beth. The men seemed mesmerized by her. The small 12-year-old had her
legs spread wide, her knees strung up by chains, her little feet bound
securely into the widely-spaced stirrups. Her cunny was wet with baby
oil, set within her splayed thighs like center of a nectar-laden flower
whose petals have been opened. There was no stamen, of course, to this
flower. Just her little dell, beckoning, urging the men to plunge
themselves up within its warm, wet depths.
BethanyÕs bare tummy trembled tautly. Her tits jiggled within their
rope bindings. She tried turning her head to see what Petra was bringing
back with her from the back wall, where the implements hung. I saw. It
was a feather. And in her other hand she still held her riding crop.
ÒI-- haftoo pe-ee!Ó Bethany said through her gag as Petra reappeared
beside her.
ÒWell of course, dear. Just after youÕre all seated and trussed up
too, hmmm?Ó Petra said. ÒDonÕt think youÕre going to get out of that chair
for such an unimportant thing as that.Ó Bow, however, scurried away, and
returned moments later with the same pail weÕd used the night before. It
looked freshly scrubbed.
ÒHere,Ó Bow said. There was a look of concern on her small 8-year-
old face.
ÒWell, for your sake, then, dear,Ó Petra told the girl. She gave her
feather and her crop to Luke. He received them, stared at them. The
feather was a big ostrich feather. It looked very soft. The crop, of
course, was as hard as his dick.
Petra placed the bucket underneath Bethany. She knelt down
between the girlÕs uplifted legs. I watched her bare bottom as she
squatted. It split nicely as she knelt, and hung underneath her like a ripe
peach waiting to be picked from a tree at harvest time. Luke, I think,
contemplated bending down and giving her a swat on her exposed hiney, but
he didnÕt, perhaps because just then Bethany began peeing.
We crowded in to watch. Holding open the lips of BethanyÕs cunt,
Petra let the girl pee right into the bucket. The chair wasnÕt in the way
for Bethany. My friend, leaning back, actually had the frontmost part of
her ass off the seat. She was well-displayed, and well offered, and I knew
the men must be looking forward to kneeling in front of her and stabbing
into her with their cocks.
PISSSSS! went BethanyÕs pee into the bucket. The sound was
intoxicating. We watched her, urinating, and I felt a little envious, for the
men hardly noticed myself or Annette. Their eyes were fixed on Bethany,
on the opened flower of her cunt, on the naughty fluid it was offering. She
finished at last peeing into the bucket. There was a small box of tissue
wipes on the clean-swept floor next to the base of the barrel. Petra took
one. She passed it up through BethanyÕs legs.
ÒThere. All wiped. All set,Ó Petra said. She stood, hoisting the
bucket up with her. She turned to Bow. ÒHere, go empty it dear, in the
drain,Ó Petra said. She handed the bucket to the small girl. Bow took it,
and looked quite silly as she did, for it was quite heavy for her, and her
eyes bulged and she grunted as the weight of the bucket was placed into
her small hands.
ÒOh! Ah! Ug! Oh!Ó Bow proclaimed, waddling away with the bucket. I
could hear the urine sloshing within it. Her little ass jiggled behind her.
She reached the drain and, with a great sigh, dumped BethanyÕs pee down
it. Some pee splashed on her feet and her legs.
Bow dropped the empty bucket onto the floor. She skipped back to
the back of the cell. There was a box of wet Handi-Wipes on a shelf at the
back of the cell, I saw, my eyes following her movements. Bow pulled a
half dozen wipes out of the box. Anxiously she wiped herself off. When
she was done, she dropped the crumpled wipes on the floor. They lay there
like discarded flowers, picked by a lover, then left when his love proved
unwilling. I guessed the maid would pick them up after we were done
playing.
ÒOhhhhh!Ó Bethany announced. My eyes returned to her. Petra was
leaning over her. She had retrieved the ostrich feather from Luke. Lightly
she brushed the feather up over BethanyÕs nipples. The girl shivered. She
gasped into her gag. Petra dipped lower, stroking her belly. Then, going
lower still, Petra assualted the girlÕs wet cunt.
ÒAh! Damn!Ó Luke declared. He grabbed his cock. Eagerly he began
fisting himself. His dick was wet with baby oil and his hand, though
gripping himself quite tightly, slid easily up and down his shaft.
ÒYeech!Ó Bethany whined. She bit her gag. Petra was driving her
crazy with that insidious feather. It flicked her cunt, it stroked along the
insides of her thighs. It tickled her bare toes in the stirrups. Then Petra
began applying her crop.
ÒOh, donÕt!Ó I cried. My friend was utterly vulnerable. She was
trussed up, bound, gagged. Yet her nipples were quite forcibly presented,
as was the wet openness of her cunt. Petra payed me no attention. She
whacked BethÕs nipples. She flicked the crop hard against her tummy,
leaving small red marks. She slapped its loop down upon BethÕs wide-open
cunt.
Bethany began to sob. It must have hurt her quite badly, I thought, to
have that nasty crop whacking her slit. Petra laughed. ÒFetch towels,
Bow. The men must have something nice and soft to kneel on,Ó she told
her little niece.
Bow scurried off to the back of the cell. I saw towels stacked there,
all soft and fluffy, as if, in this nearly waterless cell, we were going to
have a bath. She picked up a half dozen towels and returned with them.
She looked so sweet, the towels piled right up to her eyes. Petra took
them from her, one by one, and laid them down on the floor in front of
BethanyÕs spread cuntlips.
ÒAh, Luke. Are you ready?Ó Petra asked, when she was done. She
tossed her whip and feather to the floor. Bow scampered over to them and
picked them up.
ÒDonÕt hit me with that,Ó I warned the girl. Eagerly she swished the
forgotten crop through the air. Petra, meanwhile, reached beckoningly for
LukeÕs cock. He placed its warm length in her palm. Her hand was much
too small to contain all of him. Even both her hands, grasping him, would
have left some of his length extruding out beyond her gripping hands. As it
was, with just one hand holding him, she looked rather like she was trying
to take hold of a big knockwurst sausage with just a small delicate white
bun.
Petra drew Luke by his penis over to where Bethany sat waiting.
Through tear-clouded eyes, the girl watched Luke kneel down before her.
He flexed his bare behind. He gazed at her. He leaned forward and,
gallantly, placed a kiss on her small indrawn tummy. Then he kneed
forward a little, on the towels. His big purplish cockhead bumped against
her wet slit.
ÒOh!Ó Bethany cried. Her teeth chattered against her gag. Big tears
rolled down her cheeks but, suddenly, she was no longer sobbing, just
crying quietly. Did she accept his presence, pressed against her dell? I
didnÕt know. But I was too entranced by how big he was, and how small
her little opening looked, to interfere. Could Luke really get that big
sausage-like thing of his up into BethanyÕs cunt? I feared he would try. I
knew he would. But I didnÕt say anything, just stared, waiting.
ÒYeeeeoooch!Ó Bethany howled. Suddenly, quite deliberately, Luke
jabbed at her cunt with his lance. Some of him managed to stick himself
into her. The girl twisted her head. She tried vainly to separate the gag
from her teeth, working her mouth, so that she might protest more
vocally. LukeÕs bare bottom flexed again. The motion caused him to sink
even deeper within her. Bethany shouted. I leaned forward. I was curious.
He was in her now. Up to almost a third of his cock. I touched my belly.
Would I too feel him in me, before the night was over? I guessed I would.
How big he was! He looked like he would rip her open, yet I saw no blood,
just the big thick stem of his cock, slowly sliding up into her.
ÒUgh! God! SheÕs tight!Ó Luke said, gritting his teeth. He gave
another shove. More of his manhood disappeared inside her. Bethany
shouted at the ceiling but none of us paid her the least attention. We were
too entranced by LukeÕs progress. He flexed his bare buns, and more of
himself sunk into her. He was almost completely up her now. I wondered
how she could take all of him. She was only 12. Where was she managing
to put him? I feared at any minute his cockhead might push its way out
between her lips, and show itself, bulging, under her gag.
ÒAh!Ó Luke gasped. He was in her completely now. His balls swung
under his cock, happily. They knew salvation was close at hand. Luke
drew back. His cock began sliding out of her. It was wet with her juices.
Bethany gave a sigh of relief. But too soon, I fear. For just as Luke was
about to withdraw his head, he rammed himself forward.
ÒYEEEEEEEEEEEE!Ó Bethany yelled. It sounded like a never-ending
scream. I donÕt know when it finally died away. It seemed to continue
forever. Luke slammed himself up inside her. Then, just as I thought he
might spend, relieving both himself and her, he drew back. And,
maliciously, just before withdrawing from her completely, he shoved
himself forward again. In and out he moved now. His asscheeks clenched
tight as he worked. His balls grew more taut. He stuck her repeatedly
with his big prong, as if sticking a piglet with a sword in order to kill it
for dinner. Bethany was in turmoil. Her neck twisted, her mouth worked
at her gag. She wrenched at her bonds, trying to free her hands. It was no
use. All her struggles were fruitless. She was open and exposed and there
was nothing she could do, nothing at all, to stop LukeÕs assualt on her
privates.
ÒYouÕre up next,Ó Petra told Robin. He was fisting himself. She
made him desist. To keep him happy she glided her fingertips across the
top of his cock. But she didnÕt touch him underneath, for a touch there
might have triggered his release.
I slid my hand down my belly. I sighed. I touched my slit. Ah, I did
not wish to play with my opening, but how could I not? It was so erotic,
watching little Bethany have to take big Luke up her snatch. And he an
adult, and she just a child. Was there ever such a mis-matched couple?
He was big and strong. His job was building tall buildings, in Mexico City.
He was a welder. He welded together beams on the skyscrapers. Bethany
was just a girl, a seventh-grade girl, to be sure, but just a year past the
lunch box-toting days of primary school. She had a Barbi lunchbox. We
used to play a little game on the back of her lunch box, moving pennies
across a printed board to see who could get to Ken first. Now she had Ken
inside her. He pumped her lustily. She moaned, tried to sit up, couldnÕt.
She could only receive him. She could only lie there, and entertain him
with her feminine cries, and wait for him to release himself into her.
He did, at last. With a final series of manful thrusts he gave himself
completely to her. When he rose, sperm dripped from her wet cunt. He
turned away. His schlong looked less elongated now. It hung between his
legs, like a spent snake. It no longer stood up stiffly.
My Robin was still stiff. He walked past me, his cock carving the air
before him with wobbling flourishes. He knelt before Bethany. Her eyes
widened. Perhaps she had thought her ordeal was over. Not quite. Not
until Robin satisfied himself. I felt my tummy tighten. I wanted to rush
forward, to free her. But Robin was quick. Before I could even move, he
gave her the first stab of his cock.
ÒEEEEEEEEK!Ó Bethany blurted, through her gag. Robin ground into
her. He was hungry. He shoved with quick thrusts of his hips. I thought
poor Bethany might pass out. Her eyes rolled in her head. Robin gazed at
her fiercely. In he went, deeper, and then when he finally got himself all
the way into her he pulled back.
Ah, how vicious it was. I had to turn away for a moment. She was
too helpless. This was no match of equals, or even of half-equals. She
was bound, was only a child. He was a full-grown man, and free to move
against and within her however he wished.
Annette touched my bottom. I turned. Her lips sought mine. I was
grateful. I did not wish to see anymore BethanyÕs sufferings. I threw my
arms up around AnnetteÕs neck. She clasped my waist. We kissed. I felt a
finger slip up between my legs. Whose was it? Not AnnetteÕs. I could
feel both her palms holding me by my hips. I pressed close to her, my
tummy to hers, my breasts crushed against her own. Then the finger
between my legs was replaced by a bubble wand. I heard a childish giggle.
ÒAh! No!Ó I gasped, murmured. My words were lost in AnnetteÕs
seeking lips. The bubble wand found my clit and scraped against it.
ÒMmmf! mmmmmm! Mmmff!Ó I cried. Wildly I rubbed my belly to
AnnetteÕs. My nipples clashed with hers. Our muffs, pressed close,
intertwined their springy curled hairs.
ÒOur bottoms are next,Ó Annette confessed to me through close-
pressed lips.
ÒYes!Ó I whined back at her. I shivered. I felt her trembling against
me. Would we be able to endure it? I knew not. We were both virgins,
untested in our hineys. It would be a struggle, I knew, taking those big
men up our butts. I prayed we could do it. Otherwise, I feared, I might die
down here, and never see the morning, my ass split wide, myself left as
limp and lifeless as the smiling teddy bears Bow and I had carried down
with us.
Robin finished his work. He coughed. He rose. I separated myself
from Annette. We clasped hands. We stood close, our cunnies wet and
needing attention. Bethany, poor girl, had a surfeit of attention. I dripped
out of her in great, white blobs. She looked like some little fertility
goddess, that all the men in the tribe had paid tribue to. Petra walked up
to her. She bent, kissed the girl on the cheek. Then she began untying her.
At last Bethany was permitted to stand. She could barely do it, she
was so thoroughly plumbed and defiled by the men. Her knees wobbled.
Her ribs heaved beneath her wobbling breasts. Her mouth opened, shut.
Her eyes blinked. I knew she must be sore. I wondered what my bottom
would feel like after both men had finished putting themselves to me in
that manner. Would I have to take both of them? I wondered. I did not
know. I hoped they didnÕt have enough stuff in them to go three rounds.
Yet, curiously, another part of my mind wished they might be capable of
going forever.
We walked back to the couched. Bethany was picked up and carried
by Luke, she was so unsteady on her feet. He dropped her onto one of the
sofas. Immediately she rolled over onto her belly. She hid her face in her
arms. I sat down beside her. I stroked her soft hair. It was all tangled
from her struggles. She whimpered something, telling me to desist, I
think, but I kept caressing her hair anyway, hoping to make her feel better.
She kicked her feet. Bow was going to sit down next to her feet but when
she almost got kicked she removed herself to the other couch. Both men
sat there, and Petra, and Annette. Annette had to sit on RobinÕs lap. I felt
a little jealous at that. Bow climbed up onto LukeÕs lap.
ÒOooohhh, your thing is getting big again,Ó Bow told Luke.
ÒI guess youÕre inspiring me,Ó Luke kidded her. Bow smiled. She
tossed back her blonde hair.
ÒDonÕt play with his penis,Ó Petra warned Bow. ÒCome sit next to
me.Ó But the girl didnÕt listen. Instead, quite inquisitively, she touched
and fondled LukeÕs growing member.
ÒWill it shoot white stuff onto me?Ó Bow asked Luke.
ÒHopefully not,Ó Luke answered.
Petra rose and poured more wine for us. She gave me a glass, and
Annette. I sipped mine. Annette would have to share with both Luke and
Robin, I guessed. I didnÕt mind. We were closer now. We could share and
share alike with our lovers.
ÒI hope both you girls are ready to lose your anal virginity,Ó Petra
told myself and Annette. She said nothing. Neither did I. Finally she
nodded, just a bit, and then quickly took another sip of her wine.
ÒFine. IÕm going to whip you both a little first, to warm you up for
it,Ó Petra said. ÒYouÕll relax more once the whip has plied some of your
more anxious emotions out of you.Ó
ÒIÕm still sore from last night,Ó I protested.
ÒIÕll go more lightly on you, but you must have some, all the same,Ó
Petra told me. ÒAnd Annette, of course, having never been whipped, must
have the full treatment.Ó
ÒWhat will you --?Ó Annette gulped. ÒWhat will you use... on my
bottom?Ó she managed to say, gulping again when sheÕd finally gotten the
question out of her throat. I saw her mouth tighten. She took refuge in
her wine, sipping it again. Her big eyes looked up at Petra from the rim of
her uptilted glass.
ÒWhy, there is such a variety of things available,Ó Petra replied.
ÒIsnÕt there? Spanking straps, single-thonged whips, cats. Which would
you prefer, my dear?Ó Petra asked. Annette stiffened. I donÕt know if
sheÕd been seeking to make the choice herself. She turned around. Over
the back of the couch she could see, in the distance, all the items of
flagellation displayed on the peg board, where the gags hung. I gazed at
her bare shoulders, her slim bare arms, the line of her spine running down
her curving back. I felt a great love for her then, and a great admiration
too, for she knew whatever she chose must hurt. That was itÕs purpose.
ÒThe--Ó she pointed. ÒThat one,Ó she said. ÒWith the tails.Ó
ÒThe cat? Brave girl!Ó Petra said. She walked up to Annette and
stroked the girlÕs long red hair. Annette shivered at her touch. ÒIt will
lash your bottom most exquisitely, and leave long red marks in its wake,Ó
Petra told her. ÒYou wonÕt be able to sit for a week.Ó
ÒThatÕs -- if itÕs to be any of them -- thatÕs the one I want, all the
same,Ó Annette said. Her voice was small, submissive. She had no more
wine to drink. Graciously Petra took her glass from her and went to the
table and refilled it.
The men were soon stiff again, with all the talk of which whip we
might take on our bottoms. I chose the single-thonged whip. I was not as
bold as Annette. I knew how much a cat could hurt, if it was applied with
vigor. She was utterly new to the sport, and naive in her newness. By
morning she would understand better.
Petra needed more baby oil, but could find none. She swore. The
maid, apparently, had forgotten it, though she remembered much else; the
flowers, the bucket, the ice, the wine.
ÒWe could use my bubble potion,Ó Bow offered.
ÒWhy yes! ThatÕs nice and oily,Ó Petra declared.
ÒBut only if I get to put it on the menÕs penises,Ó Bow insisted.
Petra frowned. She did not like seeing her 8-year-old niece sport so
casually with the men. At the rate she was going, sheÕd be pregant before
her 12th birthday. But she could hardly stop the girl, at least in this
matter. Sensing sheÕd won, for there was nothing else we could do, Bow
began using her bubble wand to spread bubble lotion across the menÕs
dicks. The men shivered. The girl was, after all, only 8, a freshly-minted
graduate of the third grade. But they could do little except present their
cocks to her. They were excited in their stiffness and longed to puncture
the bottoms of Annette and myself. If they expected to be successful,
they had to be re-greased for the venture. Bottoms did not wetten like
pussies, though, I was soon to learn, they might offer up some moisture
when the event was fully underway.
With the men dripping with BowÕs bubble fluid, Petra bid us to rise.
We did, all shivering a little, I think, for we were all so bare and naked
and about to embark on forbidden acts. She drew us into the back of the
cell. There, I saw to my surprise, behind a big rack, where a girl might be
hung up by her wrists and tortured, were two padded bolsters. They were
made of leather. There was a depression in the middle of each where
other girls had obviously left their mark. Petra took my hand. She drew
me to the bolster. I looked down at it. It rose to the level of my tummy.
It looked soft. Comfort would not be a problem, until, that was, the men,
Luke or Robin, quartered my bottom. Petra laughed. She knew I was
nervous. My bottom cheeks were clenching. She pushed me over the
bolster and I let myself fall, knowing I must. I gasped. My belly bounced
upon the bolster and then settled nicely upon it. I hung with my head down
in front and my toes scraping the floor behind me. My bottom was lofted
high, on full view to the eyes of the men. I saw a bar and gripped it. It
gave me confidence. Behind me I felt Petra draw my legs apart.
My ankles were bound to the sides of the trestle. Then my wrists, to
the bar in front. I gripped it tightly, even though, once bound to it, there
was no way to separate myself from it. I closed my eyes. I felt female
fingers come to my lips. A gag was inserted. It would spare me
embarrassing words in the heat of the battle.
I heard Annette cast down over the bar beside me. I opened my eyes.
I turned my head. She gazed at the floor. Her eyes widened when she felt
her legs separated behind her. She gripped the bar that hung low between
the legs of her trestle, as I gripped mine. She waited. Her breath,
exhaling, blew at her hair that hung down all round her face. When she
relaxed, briefly, lowering her head, her hair fell back from her face and,
mane-like, dropped in long red curls all the way to the floor. I watched
her, feeling my own sighs, my own wrigglings against the bonds which
held me. Petra came around to her front and tied off her wrists. Then
Petra went behind her again.
ÒOh!Ó Annette suddenly blurted. I twisted my head, looked back.
ÒBe still, girl. You know I must do this,Ó Petra scolded. I saw to my
surprise that Petra was dipping her finger into BowÕs bottle of bubble
fluid. Drawing it out, she poked Annette in her bottom. I guessed she
must be oiling AnnetteÕs bottomhole with her finger. I was next. I
watched as Annette, flinching and trying to rise, suffered the intrusion.
At last Petra was done. She walked over to me.
ÒOh, I doth neeth any,Ó I tried to say through my gag. But I felt
fingers pry apart my bottom. Then, a moment later, something hard, with
a sharp nail on it, circled my anus. It felt wet, oily. I jerked. It drove in,
punishing me. I gasped.
ÒThey are ready,Ó Petra told the men. ÒDo you desire to whip them,
or shall I have the honors?Ó
ÒYou forgot to gag her,Ó Robin said of Annette.
ÒOh, yes. No matter,Ó Petra said. ÒLet her boyfriend hear her
screams. He will enjoy them. ItÕs her first time.Ó
ÒPlease let me up?Ó Annette asked. She spoke in a small, squeaky
voice, like a little mouse hoping for mercy from a cat.
ÒAh, she is going to be too vocal,Ó Petra decided. ÒBow, bring me a
gag for her.Ó
And so Annette was gagged, over her protests, her mouth even
trying, I think, to bite at PetraÕs fingers. Luke helped her with the task.
When she was muffled I looked over at her. She looked foolish. Her eyes
were gaping wide, her teeth were apart. The gag was pushed deep into her
mouth, making her lips look like fish-lips, gasping for oxygen. Yet I knew
I must look the same, to her, for I was gagged too.
I heard the swish of a whip. It frightened me. I pulled at my bonds.
They did not give way.
ÒWhich of you shall I do first, hmmm?Ó Petra asked us. Of course,
being gagged, neither of us could answer. I wondered how we might have,
though, if we could have done more than just mumble. Did I hear myself
saying, ÔDo her?Õ Or was it ÔDo me. Get it over with please.Õ I felt
confused in my fright. I wiggled my fanny. Was I inviting her to strike it,
to do me first, to finish with me, so that I might rise, or did I hope
somehow to ward off her blows by wiggling my ass? The wine, I think,
had made me a little heady. Perhaps that was best. I knew, whichever of
us went first, I would feel awful when the whip finally connected with my
bare flesh.
ÒSHEEEEEEEEK!Ó Sounded suddenly beside me. I jerked my head to my
right. Annette had gone rigid. I realized that the whip had struck her. The
sound of its report echoed in my ears, blended with her scream. Her
breasts, hanging beneath her, wobbled like fruit on a tree in a storm.
ÒYEEEEOOOCH!Ó Annette shouted again. Again the whip struck her. I
suspected they were using the cat. How it must sting, I thought, all those
knotted tails biting into her soft, tender flesh. And it was hitting her
where it was sure to hurt most, too. Against the curving cheeks of her
seat. I hoped she didnÕt plan to do any sitting soon.
I watched her torment. I knew I was next. Blow followed blow.
Annette writhed and shook, cried, protested. Her bosoms joggled under
her, needing a bra, having none, all exposed to whatever depredations they
might wish to visit upon her. Her ribs stood out along her frightened
sides, heaved with her gasps. I counted them. I wondered if she would
make a tasty meal of spare ribs for cannibals.
Big tears rolled down AnnetteÕs face. They wet her long red locks of
hair. Petra and the men took their time with her. There was no rush.
When at last, perhaps a half hour later, they were finally done with her,
they left her to sob and cry while they turned to me.
I suffered my blows little better than Annette had. Each one seemed
to burn anew into my bottom, making my sore tushy cringe at its touch.
They were not as considerate of my previous punishment as IÕd hoped
theyÕd be. I think they liked seeing my bottom react. It would tighten as
the lash hit, then rebound outward as the lash leaped away. Burning, IÕd
squeeze my seat cheeks together, but that would only impress the pain
more into me. Finally, hopelessly, IÕd let my bottom relax into the air. It
would bulge out, like a big pumpkin trying to rise up into the sky. That
made them laugh. It looked like I was asking for more.
At last we were both weeping and crying, undressed, oiled, flayed.
Prepared. Luke came to me. Robin took Annette. I was forced to watch as
Robin entered her. I did not want to, but Luke waited, and made me turn
my head to see her. I watched her face as it reacted to his entrance. She
gasped. She blubbered protests through her tears. But there was no
stopping him. He was hungry to spend again. No amount of tightness, even
in her poor bottom, was going to deter him.
When Robin was fully embedded in her, Luke presented himself to me.
I felt a spear split the cheeks of my ass. I shivered at his touch. His
orgain was intruding between my hemispheres. It felt like a big banana
was trying to insert itself up into my cleft.
ÒNo!Ó I cried. It was awful! I felt his big plum-like knob at my
portal. He bumped against me, as if knocking. ÒNo!Ó I cried again. I
twisted my head. He was too big! He ignored me. I felt a sudden thrust.
Inward it came, splitting me. I was being invaded by a big knob coated
with BowÕs bubble fluid. Did I hear her giggling, somewhere behind me?
ÒAhhhh! God!Ó I cried through my gag. His hands gripped me. My
bottom was burning from the whip. I did not want to be touched,
anywhere. Least of all on my fanny. Yet he gripped me, oblivious to my
pain. I struggled. He did not mind. I think it inspired him. He drove
deeper into my fanny. I could feel the big tube of the stem of his prick
following his hard cockhead into me. I tried to squeeze him out. He
laughed. I think he liked the tightness of me, the resistance. I felt like a
burning pike was being shoved into my ass.
ÒYEEEEEE!Ó Annette hollared beside me. Robin was beginning to work
her. In and out his cock drove, making her buck with each of her thrusts. I
was still being invaded. I could not stop Luke, much as I tried. I felt him
bend over me. His hairy belly pressed against my upturned ass, my back. I
felt his weight upon me. His kisses showered my neck. I tried to buck him
off. I felt him slide in deeper as a result.
Females often fear that a male will cum to soon. Well, let me tell
you, when youÕre an anal virgin, and a manÕs stuck himself up your ass, he
canÕt cum soon enough! As I endured the enormous fullness in my behind,
my cunny still untended, I prayed to God that Luke would finish with me.
Instead he clawed at my freely-hanging breasts. Just as he was working
himself in and out of my ass, he now took hold of my bosoms as if they too
were his private sexual property. He squeezed them. Hard. He released
them, only to pinch possessively at my nipples with his fingers. My face
bathed in tears, I begged through my gag for him to stop, but he ignored my
pleas and frankly, seemed to enjoy possessing me all the more because of
them. I was no tramp. I wasnÕt even a woman. I was just a young, nubile
runaway, foolish enough to try something new. And now I was feeling the
full effects of it, with LukeÕs prick rodding my backside while his breath
breathed hotly across my neck, and his hands grappled with my tender
bosoms as if they were outcroppings of rock and I was a ledge he was
climbing up upon.
I heard an urgent shout to my right. I twisted my head toward
Annette. There was a look of insult on her face, blending gradually into
awkward relief. Some feminine instinct told me she must be receiving
RobinÕs sperm in her bottomhole. He was my boyfriend, pledged to love
me, yet he was screwing another woman, and quite enjoying it. I was left
to the depredations of Luke.
A minute later Annette had recovered enough for her own feminine
instincts to tell her that I was getting spermed by her beau. My lips
strained open beneath my gag. My eyes bulged. I screamed; it was no use.
Suddenly, as if I were some fixture in a menÕs bathroom, Luke loosed his
load of sperm into my behind. It came and came and came, a great flood. I
thought I was full already, from his penis, but when his load of sperm shot
into me I got a whole new lesson in fullness. His seed invaded me deeply,
shooting up into my guts, making me think IÕd get pregnant and poop a baby
out my behind.
Robin laughed. He seemed to enjoy the spectacle. HeÕd tried taking
me up my bottom when we played at his house, but always IÕd denied him,
finding a way to have him in my pussy instead. Now, at last, I was taken.
And though Petra had arranged for me to be taken by another man, Robin
had been given an anal virgin of his own to sperm.
I felt Luke begin to withdraw from me. His penis lessened in
fullness. He began pulling it down out of my rectum. Both men were
happy. TheyÕd each spent, and in brand-new females, females theyÕd not
even met prior to this evening. It was, perhaps, the ultimate male high,
meeting young virgins they hardly knew and conquering them well before
dawn.
Petra removed my gag. I coughed. I gasped. She paid no attention to
my discomfort. Instead, as if I might be a young woman at a debutanteÕs
ball (as Luke slid out of my bottom), she asked, very lightly and happily,
ÒWell, dear, are you enjoying yourself?Ó
I didnÕt answer. I had no strength left in me. Especially for silly
questions like that. I hung my head. I felt the pleasantness of my bare
back as Luke lifted his weight off me. I let my mind, gradually, take in
again the state of my bottom. Ouch! How it stung. How I tensed my
cheeks, the minute I thought of it. And my poor hiney-hole. It felt as if a
red hot poker had been inserted in it; then, miraculously, pulled out, but
leaving a burning memory of itself behind. Within me, as I flexed my sore
cheeks, I felt the drippy residue of LukeÕs sperm.
My hair hung down to the floor. I worked my mouth. I could breathe
through it again. At last. I blinked my eyes. My breasts hung free of
LukeÕs hands again, but now they were sore, from his gripping them.
Robin and Luke retreated to the sofas. They sat their bare asses
down. Freely they let the remnants of their testes drool out onto the
couch. I could hear them talking, laughing. Verbally, they compared notes
on our bottoms. Bow served them fresh glasses of wine. She asked if she
could taste the issue of sperm staining the couch between their legs.
They laughed again, they told her soon she might, but not this year.
Perhaps next year, if her titties kept growing. She told them their penises
needed washing. She fetched a glass of wine for herself but poured it
instead on the menÕs cocks.
Petra untied myself and Annette. The men watched, casually, like
farmers might watch cows who have just been branded. For a long time
after IÕd been untied I lay unmoving over the trestle. At last, finding her
strength, Annette came to my side and lifted me up. I found standing up
awkward. IÕd lost my virginity and just wanted to lie over the trestle
forever, and never face life again.
Then I saw Bethany. Herself a victim of the menÕs lust, she was
sitting happily at their feet. She looked up at them, watched them laugh,
watched their hairy chests. She watched them flex their big arms and
leaned forward now and then and kissed their legs. They mostly ignored
her, but IÕm sure they didnÕt mind being the object of her naive attention.
Bow pranced around, waving her bubble wand. I think she was almost out
of bubble fluid but she still had enough to make a few more big wobbly
bubbles that rose awkwardly in the air and, if she was lucky, burst against
the big hairy bodies of the men. Now and then she would stop waving her
wand and go take a sip from a wine glass. I think it was the same glass
she used to pour wine on the menÕs penises, to wash them. (IÕd heard
rather than seen that, lying prostrate over the trestle, and so I couldnÕt be
sure.)
Petra, for her part, stood behind the men and the couch they were
sitting upon. She leaned over them. Lovingly she tousled their hair and
caressed their big hairy chests. They were nearly as oblivious to her as
they were to Bethany and Bow, talking of football, of bull fights, of
political matters in Mexico.
With AnnetteÕs help, I stumbled over to the couch opposite the men.
I flopped down upon it. Annette bade me scoot over and threw herself
down beside me. Bow ran out of bubble fluid and complained that she was
bored. Petra told her to hush. Bethany asked to put on the teddy bear I had
worn. Bow fetched it, plus Bert, and plopped down beside her on the floor
and began explaining the androgynous nature of her bear.
ÒWe must go upstairs,Ó Petra announced. She sounded delighted. We
had all suffered equally, save for herself. I guessed she would take both
men to bed with her once theyÕd had a chance to shower.
I didnÕt want to stand up again. I wanted to lie on the couch forever.
Annette was as recalcitrant as myself. We buried our heads in our arms.
We pretended to be asleep.
Luke lifted up Annette. He hoisted her in his arms and carried her to
the ladder leading up from the cellar. Robin picked me up. I felt like a
sack of potatoes. I did not want to be lifted. I wanted to lie on the couch
for the rest of my life; whipped, deflowered. But life had to go on, and
Robin made sure I wasnÕt left behind. He carried me to the ladder and
helped me take hold of it. He straddled me. Together we climbed up. I
felt his penis rise against my bottom as we climbed upwards. I climbed
faster, feeling that. I didnÕt want to be poked twice in my butt in a single
night. Once was enough.
We returned to the house. To my embarrassment, Verona was
waiting for us inside the front door. She had hot steaming hand towels on
a silver platter. She gave one to each of us as we came inside. The men
were delighted. Annette, Bethany and I were less amused. Annette and I
had mortifyingly red bottoms and looked well-fucked, like cheap whores
who had spent the night entertaining men in a brothel. Little Bow took
two towels. She told Verona to buy more bubble fluid when she went to
the market in the morning.
Alfonse and Rico were up. They were sitting at a table, playing
cards. Flushing, I hurried past them. I went upstairs. I held my hand
towel over my bottom to deny them a view of it. I heard them laugh. One
of them made a remark to the other, but it was in Spanish. I couldnÕt
understand it.
Annette, like myself, tried hiding her big bare bottom with a towel
as she mounted the stairs. We were all quite naked, we must have looked
ridiculous with our thoroughly mussed hair, our tear-stained faces, our
manhandled bottoms and bellies and breasts. Only the men were graceful,
now. And little Bow. They were the victors. Bow was too young, and had
escaped being taken. Annette, myself, Bethany, we all hurried upstairs,
eager to get away from Verona and the men and Petra and Alfonse and
Rico. Petra laughed at us, watching us run upstairs. She still wore her
riding hat, her gloves, her boots, her scarf. Her pussy was moist but she
would find satisfaction for it after we had fallen asleep, with Robin and
Luke in her bed. Robin, younger than Luke, was already pleasantly stiff.
Alfonse remarked that he had a fine penis. Robin told him to stare at me
and my bottom and not at his cock.
30
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