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Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
CUNT CASTLE
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Chapter Two
ÒGirls, I will do my best to provide for your comfort while youÕre
here with me,Ó Rose explained. ÒBut you must each surrender yourself
completely to your loverÕs desires. And he may desire whatever he
wishes! He is not to be denied anything for the next two weeks, and I will
make sure of it. Although I am a complete feminist, I do believe men have
rights too. Men need to dominate sometimes, and to control. Here they
will be permitted to do that. Elsewhere they might be punished for raping
their wives, or talking to or even looking at girls like yourself. Not here.
I provide this as a small service to mankind to allow him a brief retreat
to the days when men were men, and unrestrainedly so. There will be no
political correctness here. The law is their law, and you must obey.Ó She
smiled. ÒYou must think of it as being done for you, otherwise you will
never be able to bear it. That is what I discovered. If you remember that
always they are thinking of you, watching you, whoever might actually be
screwing you, then you will find yourself able to accept it all.Ó
She turned and turned down the bedcover and top sheet on the bed.
ÒNow Polly, since Fleurette went first last time, letÕs have you be first
now. I want you to get on the bed and lie down on your tummy and open up
your legs. Nice and wide.Ó Rose took Polly by the arm and guided her onto
the bed, Polly lifting her knees, first one, then the other, so she could
crawl onto it. Rose made her lie flat on her tummy, then placed a pillow
beneath her chin so she might have some comfort for her head. Her arms
remained firmly bound behind her. ÒSpread your legs, Polly,Ó Rose told the
girl. She slapped her bottom lightly to get her to comply. Immediately,
still sore from the paddle, Polly opened her knees into a wide vee, lifting
her heels up and letting them kick aimlessly in the air. ÒNow stay like
that, Polly, while I vaseline your anus for you. DonÕt make me tie you.
YouÕre a big girl and you should be able to take this.Ó
ÒWhomapmout?Ó Polly asked behind her gag. Rose opened the top
drawer of the dresser and drew out a jar of vaseline. She dipped her
finger in it and, at a squeak from Polly, opened the girlÕs ass and rimmed
her anus. ÒItÕs an enema, dear. YouÕll have a nice solid enema stuck up
your bottom to get out any shit that might be in there. Then, after you go
potty, your boyfriend will show you what itÕs like to be buttfucked. Have
you ever been buttfucked before, Polly?Ó
ÒNoooophoph!Ó Polly squealed behind her gag.
ÒI didnÕt think so...my, youÕre so tight!Ó Rose exclaimed. ÒI wish I
was still that squeaky-tight but IÕm afraid IÕve had men sawing away in
me since I was seven, and IÕm quite a bit older than that now. Lie still,
Polly, I donÕt want to cut your insides with my fingernail.Ó
Rose stuck her finger into PollyÕs hole with some considerable
effort and then, to squawks from the girl, lubricated the inside of her
channel up to the first inch. Polly seemed to sense that she might be
injured and lay with only a few wiggles while the passage was eased. At
last Rose drew out her finger. There was a cup on the nightstand for little
girls to have water in and Rose dipped her greased finger into the cup to
wet it. Then she wiped off her finger on a linen handkerchief that had
been lying fresh in the drawer. I made sure to remember not to ask for a
drink during the night.
The men, on their own initiative, began disrobing. I donÕt know if
Rose noticed at first, perhaps it suited her purpose not to. Off came the
menÕs dark, steeply-priced jackets, both tailor made and worn to convey
substance and rigidly conservative values. They dropped them on the floor
like day-old laundry. Their ties followed, loosened first, nooses being
undone on the scaffold by prisoners given a last-minute reprieve. I saw
their breath increase. Their chests worked rhythmically beneath their
starched shirts, runners getting up their wind for a critical race.
As the men worked open their shirt buttons Rose, sitting primly
with her finger in PollyÕs hineyhole, looked up. A smile flitted across her
face as she saw the sumptuous manflesh being exposed just as fast as the
boys could get their bodies out of their clothes. She let her eyes fall
across their hairy chests, tracing their fingers a moment with her stare
as they raced to get their shirtbuttons open. And then her countenance
took on the appearance of a woman delighted by the vigor of her charges,
but finding them undisciplined.
ÒAh, boys,Ó Rose said with a librarianÕs condescension, scolding a
whisper. ÒDid I say you could undress?Ó
ÒNo,Ó Andre admitted, staying his fingers a moment. My Louis kept
on unbuttoning his shirt.
ÒLouis!Ó Rose admonished him. Reluctantly he stopped his hands over
his navel button.
Lightly Rose brushed back her long ink-black hair from her face. Her
coiffure had become slightly undone by her exertions within PollyÕs anus.
ÒWhile both of you are free to dominate your girlfriends,Ó Rose began,
with a wiggle of PollyÕs bare bottom indicating she wished to get up. Rose
slapped her tushy lightly with her hand. ÒWhile you own your girlfriends,Ó
Rose began again, ÒI own both of you gentlemen, during your stay here at
my castle. In my presence, you are to ask my permission before you do
anything so gauche as stripping your clothes off.Ó
Andre seemed mesmerized by her words, but my Louis balked. He
fingered his final shirtbutton, eager to get it undone so he could go on to
his pants zipper. He flexed his considerable biceps, which were still
encased in the starched white sleeves of his shirt. ÒI could break your
skinny little body in two,Ó Louis snarled under his breath, looking directly
at Rose. She did not flinch or show any emotion. She simply stared back
at him.
ÒLouis,Ó she said finally. ÒI do have protection. A certain drug lord
looks after my welfare, for a cut of my profits, of course.Ó Louis kept his
face set in a look of noncompliance. ÒLord Shaftsbury,Ó Rose intoned.
LouisÕ face softened. He seemed suddenly resigned to obey. I felt a shiver
run right down my spine to my tailbone. My first love, I did not wish to
meet him again. IÕd left him behind, though weÕd been so close once. I had
Louis now. Yet Louis seemed to sense that, despite his muscles, which
Lord Shaftsbury did not possess, he would be most unwise to take on my
first lover. ÒAh, so youÕve heard of him,Ó Rose continued.
ÒA sewer rat, but a very powerful sewer rat,Ó Louis muttered.
ÒGood, then IÕm glad to see youÕll behave. Really, Louis, you had me
scared for a minute there. I donÕt necessarily turn away men who canÕt
obey, after all I am running a business here, but I donÕt play with them
personally. You must work on your chivalry a little, Louis. All your needs
will be satisfied beyond your wildest dreams, but you must learn the
virtues of patience and self-control.Ó She dropped her eyes to his
considerable crotch.
ÒI can hold my sperm better than any man,Ó Louis growled. He was
still upset by being bested by Rose, I could tell. I think thatÕs why I loved
Louis so much. He was so primal. A bull in a necktie (which now lay on
the floor beside his jacket). I guess I was hooked on musclemen at the
moment.
Rose ran her lips over her tongue. They sparkled with her saliva.
ÒLetÕs see your equipment, then, Louis. You have my permission. But keep
your distance. Little Polly here is a bit anxious about having your thing up
her hole.Ó
Louis gratefully yanked off his shirt and started working open his
pants. ÒI brought my own girl,Ó he said, with a glance at me. I stood at
attention by the bed. My hands were gripped by the handcuffs, and pinned
behind my back. I held PollyÕs panties in my mouth, though I longed to spit
them out. Imagine, being gagged with another girlÕs panties. I
remembered her peeing in the ladies room at the restaurant. Had any pee
droplets dribbled into her panties? I hoped not. I couldnÕt taste any pee,
anyway, though there seemed to be a hint of cunt juice. I tried not to
think about it. There was a wetness between my legs. I knew it wasnÕt
from any unmet bathroom needs. I was too terrified to think of anything
like that at the moment.
ÒYouÕll do only what I allow,Ó Rose said to Louis. She jammed her
finger deep into PollyÕs hole, abruptly, as if frustrated by LouisÕ continued
obstinance. Poor Polly bleated like a shorn sheep. Her bottom bounced on
the sheets as if it had just been given a shot. Rose turned her head to
Andre. His penis popped from his pants as he managed to be the first male
in the room to present himself. ÒAndre, I didnÕt say you could undress, did
I?Ó Rose asked him. Nonetheless her eyes feasted on his erect organ as
eagerly as mine. I scolded myself, but couldnÕt help it. Some say a dead
body is that way. You canÕt tear your eyes away, though your mind
screams at you to. Well, AndreÕs rod was much more mesmerizing. I
licked my lips, involuntarily, blushed when IÕd realized IÕd done it. Louis
frowned at me.
ÒI see if youÕre to become regular users of my castle, youÕll need
some training,Ó Rose said to Andre and Louis. As she spoke, Louis got his
pants fully open and his huge penis popped out. It was long and thick and I
and Rose gazed at both his and AndreÕs for a long minute, comparing them,
gauging their strength, their potential for endurance. I think two finer
cocks were never on display. Polly chose to play the child and hid her face
in her pillow. I noticed her thighs part an extra inch, though. She wanted
them both, but was too shy to say so.
ÒWe are going to have a little intermission,Ó Rose said suddenly.
She stood up from the bed. At once Polly rolled on her side and gazed at
everyone, her mouth open, her legs turned but still invitingly wide. She
walked to the dresser. She dipped her finger that had investigated PollyÕs
backside into the water cup. She dried it on the handkerchief. Leaning
over the dresser, she reached down behind it. She withdrew a wickedly
slender Malaccan cane. The men looked at her with uncertain eyes, their
cocks on full display. ÒFinish undressing, men,Ó Rose commanded. They
eased down their trousers, revealing their athletic legs. They kicked off
their shoes, confident, but perhaps just a little worried too, as Rose
flicked her cane idly against the side of the dresser. It made an insidious
swish through the air and then struck the dresser with a clean, sharp
whack.
When the men were free of everything, including their socks and
shoes, Rose spoke again. ÒIÕm going to cane you both on your bare buns,Ó
she said simply. She took off her vest, never letting go of the cane as she
spoke. Then she undid the buttons of her blouse. Finally, reaching behind
herself, she unhooked her bra. Her bosoms spilled from the brassiere.
They were twin cones of quivering white flesh, made all the more alluring
by the fact that, from the waist down, Rose still wore her yuppie-perfect
dress, while from the waist up she was utterly nude.
Rose whacked the open palm of her hand with her cane when she was
stripped bare to the waist. She eyed Louis and Andre, both of them naked
as jaybirds now, their cocks quivering with manly need, their bottoms
surely as worried as mine was. ÒTurn around, both of you,Ó Rose said to
my boyfriend and PollyÕs.
ÒNo! Please,Ó I begged, but PollyÕs panties, in the mouth, obscured
me. I did not want to see our boyfriendÕs lovely asses flayed, laid open by
the cane. I liked my boyfriendÕs butt just as it was! Yet, difficult as heÕd
been just a minute before, Louis now turned and offered Rose his backside.
ÒOpen your legs,Ó Rose said to both men. They seemed uncertain. ÒI
know, I know, you do not wish your testicles injured. You must both trust
me. You must show complete subservience to me. If youÕre both good I
shouldnÕt think IÕd have the slightest interest in cutting off your lineage.Ó
With an exchange of frustrated glances, Louis and Andre parted their
well-built legs and showed Rose their testicles from behind. They were
two nutsacks of perfect proportion, heavy with sperm and promising many
babies for both of us. I wanted to rush forward and save them from
whatever might transpire. Rose walked up to both of them and felt
between their legs and squeezed their sperm pouches. I prayed she didnÕt
milk them too thoughtlessly. A stray touch might trigger their seed, and
all might be lost.
ÒBend over,Ó Rose ordered. Both men glanced at each other, then
complied. They gripped their ankles. Their dongs were pushed down by
their bending stomachs. ÒOh, you are both so long,Ó Rose said in a tone
that was half admonitory, half admiring. She clucked and ran her fingers
slowly down the tender underside of each manÕs penis, leaving little pinch
marks as she went, testing the tensile strength of each organ. I watched,
holding PollyÕs panties delicately in my mouth. Oh, how I longed to soothe
those poor pinched penises. But with Rose armed with a difficult cane,
one whose reputation was as challenging to a backside as any imaginable,
I was in no mood to test her will.
Both men held up well as Rose felt their organs, their balls,
examining them from behind as thoroughly as a gynecologist might check a
woman with child. ÒVery good,Ó she said at last. ÒPlease remain standing
just as you are. I like my men compliant sometimes, depending on my
mood. Now IÕll give you both a few whacks to show you whoÕs boss.Ó
ÒThatÕs a ruthless cane,Ó Louis said, looking through his parted legs
with his head upside down. I almost giggled, losing PollyÕs panties. He
looked quite silly.
Rose patted LouisÕ rear. ÒI donÕt believe in making things easy,
dear,Ó she said quietly. She lifted her cane and ran out its length on her
palm. It was a frightening four and a half feet long, I guessed, yet it was
incredibly light, just a handle, really, with a shard of palmstem sprouting
out to its tip. A silken thread wound with lighthearted grace along the
stem, then looped through a hole at the tip, where it formed a decorative
little bow. A very feminine instrument, really, but able to pack a
substantial bite. ÒReady, boys?Ó Rose asked.
ÒNo,Ó Louis and Andre grunted, no doubt wondering how a castle that
promised them utter freedom wound up having them bare their holes.
ÒI expect you both to be as demanding with your girlfriends as I am
with you,Ó Rose said, sending a chill down my spine. I pushed my tummy
out, struggled with my handcuffs. No use. My breasts jiggled on my chest.
My ribs showed.
Graceful as she was deadly, Rose turned away from the men and
lifted her cane above her head. But for the fact she was topless, I might
have thought I was watching high culture, a ballet in New York or Berlin.
Rose touched a finger to the tip of the cane, bending it toward herself,
watching with upraised eyes a moment as it flexed in her hands. Then she
released the tip, lowered her head, and whirled about and struck Louis
right on his ass.
ÒYeeeeow!Ó Louis shouted with all the force a man might muster.
His head shot up. His balls bounced beneath him, though they were,
fortunately, not a recipient of the blow. His ass clenched and then
released, clenched again. Spittle flew from his mouth and hit the floor.
His cock waggled like an old ladyÕs finger.
I drew in my bottomcheeks tightly as I watched LouisÕ buns contort
from the blow. His asscrack shrank to a narrow threadlike line, then, his
cheeks releasing themselves at last, his hair within showed again. He did
not get up. He remained bent double, though he might have stood, grabbing
his ankles tight. I admired his fortitude even as I pitied his pain. A slim
line, no more than a pencil, announced itself across his backside. It was
deep red.
Louis received his in turn. His antics, complete with his penis flying
and his balls bounding like twin balls in Jacks, burned deep into my mind.
I found myself liking the show, even as I knew I stood a good chance of
getting equal treatment myself before the night expired. I prayed IÕd be
somehow forgotten. Let Rose whip the men, and fuck them afterward.
Polly and I would be good girls and just watch.
Her footing sure, her aim precise, Rose gave each man a half-dozen
strokes of the cane over his tense, sweating rump. She never hit anyplace
twice. That would have been truly cruel. It would have burst those tight
little buns, right across their surface, and made them bleed, possibly
marking them for life. I thanked God Rose had a practised hand. I could
tell these werenÕt her first victims. Her expertise was daunting. She told
myself and Polly where she would hit from the second strikes onward,
describing the menÕs asses in loving detail. And then sheÕd hit right where
sheÕd promised. Louis and Andre gritted their teeth. They said nothing,
except to howl and moan. I felt their cocks got ever more huge, though,
despite the obvious pain they were suffering.
At last Rose permitted the men to stand. Their hands flew to their
hineys and they ground their teeth as they worked their palms over the
injured surfaces. Their knees moved back and forth a little, as they stood
in place still, examining the damage and trying to assuage it.
ÒOh, come on!Ó Rose teased. She made Andre howl by sticking the
end of the cane straight into his asscheeks. ÒThatÕs nothing, boys. A
little starter. Turn around and letÕs see how your things are doing.Ó The
men turned about, their eyes wincing, their penises bigger than IÕd ever
seen them. Rose poked at the tip of AndreÕs cock with her bow-pointed
cane. Andre lurched backward to avoid a second touch.
ÒLetÕs adjourn briefly to the sitting room, where we can
contemplate whatÕs to be done,Ó Rose said, turning with a meaningful look
at myself and Polly. Louis, apparently guessing at its purpose, went to the
side of the bedroom and drew open a door. Beyond lay not a bathroom, as I
had expected, as youÕd find in any ordinary bedroom, but an upstairs parlor
instead. Walking toward it, I realized that the bedroom we were in was
not for sleeping at all, but for training a girl, pure and simple. The sitting
room served as a place where a man might talk with Rose and plan the
girlÕs denouement. It was fed by a back stairway that meant a visiting
girl, perhaps in olden days brought up from the village, could immediately
be debauched. The front entrance, the grand staircase, the long hallway
leading past the other rooms, all could be avoided. A girl of 12 might be
slipped within the house with nobody seeing. She could be used, her hymen
torn, and then taken away again, all through the rear of the house, perhaps
while a formal dinner transpired below, or an elegant ball.
I heard heavy footfalls on the steps. A maid entered into the
concealed little parlor just as we ourselves walked in. There were no
windows in the room. It had the feel of a hidden chamber, like the
bedroom itself, which also allowed in no light from outside. It was
sumptuously decorated, however, with overstuffed chairs, paintings, a
few books. The wallpaper was damask, not paper at all, but silk, finely
patterned with natural dyes. Rose told us this as we stood and looked at
our place of confinement. She warned the men not to shoot themselves
onto the walls.
ÒBring a comforter for each of the young men,Ó Rose told her maid.
The men stood with squirming legs and buttocks, obvious in their
condition of agony. Their pricks stood out like thick, throbbing spires
above their strainingly-tight balls. The maid, whom IÕd glimpsed as we
sat so calmly in the parlor downstairs, was an old woman, perhaps 60.
SheÕd spied on us a little downstairs. IÕd dismissed her from my mind at
the time, hardly paying her any attention. I thought she was the cleaning
woman. She looked too old to serve us. I wished we still had the young
girl. She was polite, attentive, helpful. The old woman, whom IÕm sure
the men never saw at all as they relaxed downstairs, was dour and mean. I
doubted not that she felt the men had just gotten what they deserved.
They were rich boys from the city. Her husband, IÕm sure, was no more
than a peasant farmer, laboring in the fields by day until his skin cracked
in the sun and his hands turned to gnarled claws. His sex would have
shrivelled by now, leaving his wife bereft. She was worn and lined from
age and years of hard work. She had no pity for us. I shrank back as I
looked at her. It was so humiliating, where was the girl? She IÕd felt a
little embarrassed about being nude in front of, but this woman! Her eyes
grazed me like a toad eyeing a tasty bug. It was so shameful to be
stripped naked in front of such an old hussy, her hands gnarled, her breasts
hanging low and flat like pancakes, her hips huge and matronly. Worst of
all, she wore her clothes as neatly as if she were going to church. Layer
after layer of clothing hid her figure from our view. A heavy dress of
white showed its hem beneath a second dress of black, each flowing down
from her middle. I knew she must wear bloomers beneath, encasing each
of her legs. I could hear them rasping together as she walked. Above her
rustling, heavy dresses was her blouse, with a firmly buttoned vest over
it, and a full-length apron tied down her front. She wore a maidÕs hat. It
looked like it was so well-secured to her head that she expected to meet a
typhoon. Only her arms and hands were bare, her sleeves rolled up, as if
sheÕd just been doing the laundry. Her arms were thick and manly. They
were spotted with age, as was her face. She glowered at us, but with a
trace of amusement in her eyes, cynical amusement, jealous and wishing
the worst for us. Her hair, neatly drawn up into a bun, gave her a
business-like look. It was a sharp contrast to my own hair, flowing and
free and playful, and PollyÕs. Even RoseÕs pretty coiffure, slightly mussed
now, looked utterly uninhibited compared to our maid.
I thought the maid would turn and have to go back downstairs, but
she opened yet another door, into a closet, and drew out two comforters
and set them on chairs for the men. With gritting teeth our loves sat
down, each in his own princely stuffed chair, but with his bare buns
smarting fiercely as he sat on the downy white-ruffled cushion brought by
the maid.
Standing in my birthday suit, with my titties twitching, my muff
moist, I tried to avoid the maidÕs eyes. Polly too seemed to find her
modesty. She had the added discomfort of a shiny heinie-hole, obvious
from the traces of fingermarks Rose had left behind. They trailed out
from the center of her backside, leaving no doubt what had been done. All
vaseline trails lead to the greased butthole, as a Roman might say. She
wore her hair with a My Little Pony ribbon tying off a few of her long
locks, a kind of ponytail that bound a few ropelike strands of her hair
together but left the remainder underneath free. The effect was to make
her look even more schoolgirlish than she already did, and all 60-year-old
maids know where a little schoolgirl should be on a Saturday night. Home
preparing her lessons, so she could go to church on Sunday, both morning
and evening, and say her rosary. Instead Polly stood with her hiney packed
with vaseline, her hole prepared for the menÕs cocks which stood up so
heedlessly.
ÒGet the potties out for the girls,Ó Rose said with a refined air, as if
we were to be entertained at an embassy instead of made ready for sex.
The maid glanced at myself and Polly and, as we stood hoping to claim
seats for ourselves, waiting only for RoseÕs permission, she brought out
two childrenÕs potties and sat them down on the top of a dresser along the
back wall. I blanched. I think I felt my blood rush to my face and my toes
simultaneously, with all parts between equally pink. Were we to sit up on
the dresser? The menÕs chairs, I saw, were angled to give them a perfect
view of the potties. The maid brought a stepstool out of the closet and
sat it down in front of the dresser.
Rose, swishing her cane, turned to myself and Polly. ÒGirls, do you
have to go to the bathroom?Ó she asked. Polly and I quickly shook our
heads no. ÒWell, then youÕll just have to sit on the potty until you do,Ó she
smiled. We looked at her with woebegone eyes and nervously constricted
throats. ÒMarried women have sat on them,Ó Rose said. ÒYou two are
practically Ôof ageÕ by comparison. DonÕt worry, IÕll hold your hand as you
mount the stool. I donÕt want you to fall. Once youÕre settled on the potty
you wonÕt have any worries. The dresser is nice and big. Come, girls, I
want to make sure youÕre both toilet trained before I put you to bed for the
night!Ó
She urged us both forward. Then she had me step on the stool first,
minding me to be ladylike, and she watched as, with her fingers touching
my handcuffs, keeping me balanced, I stepped with a well-lifted knee up
onto the dresser. The maid stood nearby, her eyes prying into me like a
lesbianÕs. Involuntarily I showed off my sex with my movements. Raising
up each of my legs, I felt nervous under her gaze, like a showhorse about
to be put to stud. My males sat nearby, gazing wishfully at my cunt. It
felt incredibly open, swollen with yearning. Finally standing where all
could see me as intimately as they wished, my pussy above their heads,
my feet firmly planted on the dresser, I blushed anew. I felt like a model
hired out to med students to teach them the female reproductive system.
ThereÕd be no cold cadavers today. WeÕd make a clinical assessment of an
actual girl, watching her, probing her, making her cum for us so we could
learn all aspects of her most completely. In our coats, with our
spectacles on and our headlamps lit, shining into her privates. I turned
and faced the toilet. There it was, just like I remembered sitting on as a
child, except I was 14 now! Gracefully as I could I turned my fanny to it
and sat down on the seat. I tried not to think of having a bowel movement.
ÒLift your legs, draw up your knees to your chin,Ó Rose told me. I
saw that there were footrests running out like wings from the sides of my
toilet. Sticking out just far enough, they were adorned at each end by a
little hole through which I might, if I was utterly foolish, stick the spikes
on my pumps. Under RoseÕs watchful gaze I drew up my heels until they
were level with my bottom. Then, carefully, I fitted each of my heeled
spikes into the hole provided for it. I felt the spikes slip down like long
nipples into the clamplike holes. I realized that, with my arms cuffed
behind me, I stood little chance of extricating my legs without RoseÕs
permission. Gazing down, I saw my cunt was widely displayed, my thighs
not blocking it at all. I turned redfaced once more and could do nothing as
the maid glared at me with ravenous eyes.
Polly was seated in turn upon her toilet. We sat shivering, our
honeypots lewdly displayed, our tits quivering, their roundness brazenly
offered by our contorted postures. Our nipples stuck up like pins atop our
balloon-like tits, perhaps hoping to stab the maidÕs fingers should she
choose to touch us.
ÒPee when you like,Ó Rose told us, taking a chair for herself, not
needing a comforter. ÒWeÕll enjoy it when you do.Ó She asked the maid to
bring stiff drinks for us all. ÒTo ease the menÕs sore bottoms, and serve
as anesthesia for what the girls must endure,Ó Rose declared. ÒAnd for
myself too, to fortify me for the night ahead.Ó She laid her cane across
her knees. They still hid within her dress, the only modesty remaining
amongst us, the combatants for love.
ÒOh, what is to happen to us?Ó Polly asked when the maid loosened
her gag and tugged it bib-like beneath her chin. Before Rose could lift her
eyes from her own drink to answer, the maid was already forcing Polly to
swallow a glassful of liquor. ÒYuck! It tastes terrible!Ó Polly confessed.
At the restaurant sheÕd pretended to sip the drink Andre ordered for her.
Now she made no attempt to hide her displeasure.
ÒDrink it down!Ó the maid ordered. Polly gasped and received another
mouthful of gin. She spluttered. Some went down, the rest splattered
itself in droplets over her tits. The maid brought the cup to me and
insisted I drink some too. She plucked PollyÕs panties from my mouth and
held them while I leaned my head forward. I did my best to swallow down
the drink. In truth, I didnÕt like it much either. The maid swallowed the
rest herself. She did not stuff PollyÕs panties back into my mouth.
Instead, she lay them in a little saliva-wet ball next to me, on the surface
of the dresser. I did not mind, but it seemed strange. Was I to lecture,
from my perch here atop the potty seat? Were we to be fed dinner? Baby
food, perhaps, strained so we could feed on it with little fuss, while we
pooped and pissed into our potties?
Rose smiled, thanked the maid, told her to remain in the room,
standing over by the corner closest to the door. The men, amazed at the
sight of Polly and myself, fondled their hard-ons. Rose warned them not
to cum. All three, plus the maid, waited for Polly and I to pee.
ÒIt is hot here now in the summertime,Ó Rose said, making small
talk, though all three kept their eyes on me, on Polly. ÒI let my guests
swim naked, during the day, in the pool. Before I felt they should wear
swimsuits. Many of the girls are from the best families. I did not wish
them to expose themselves in front of the field hands. After all, this is a
working farm. The help has work they must do each day, planting the
crops and tending them, harvesting them in the fall. It seemed
inappropriate to me to have the girls baring their all in front of peasants.
But they bugged me about leaving their panties and bras off, so I finally
allowed it. The bras, of course, were just my little rule. Those silly
decency laws! IÕm glad they were repealed. South American girls should
be able to go topless on their beaches if they want to. But here, at the
pool, I wanted to make the girls more conscious of themselves.
Sometimes a breast halter is necessary to teach a girl that sheÕs
sensitive and can sag someday if she doesnÕt take care of herself.Ó
ÒWell, you donÕt sag,Ó Louis grinned. He gazed at her breasts with
open admiration.
ÒI had a strict mother who always made me wear a bra,Ó Rose
replied. ÒBut the girls today, they want so much to be free. They want to
feel a part of nature. So last summer I let them take their bras off, and
this summer its the bottoms that have come off too. Now they look like
little Indians out by the pool, splashing around all day. We built a baby
pool this year and they simply love it. You can see them paddling around in
it with their waterwings on, as if they were children in preschool, or
lying on a towel sucking their thumb and hoping someone will notice them.
I think they enjoy showing themselves off to the field hands, with nothing
hidden, knowing the field hands can never have them. I do not allow
mixing or fraternization between the two groups.Ó She laughed. ÒGod
knows, thereÕs enough swapping and mixing just between the paying
guests, without letting the field hands in on it too!Ó
Louis looked at me. ÒKeep her in a bra and panties if you let her use
the pool,Ó he said. ÒI want her breasts and bottom white so I can paint on
them with a whip. I like to see the contrast, the red and the white. Make
sure she always is covered if she goes outside.Ó
Rose smiled. ÒLouis, you have such a wicked eye for detail. Of
course thatÕs the real reason I wished to keep my girls covered up, so you
could see the swats on their bottoms when they were spanked. Perhaps I
should be more strict, then, hmmm? Not let them play nude in the pool?Ó
ÒBe more strict,Ó Louis answered, still gazing at me. He sipped his
drink. His fingers ran up and down his cock, lightly, toying with himself
to ease his penile tension, yet not too much, lest he spurt right onto the
carpet.
ÒIÕll make sure Fleury is always modest outdoors, then,Ó Rose
agreed. ÒAnd how about you, Andre? Do you wish to keep PollyÕs privates
nice and white so you can see your handiwork more clearly when you flog
her?Ó
ÒYes,Ó Andre nodded. Polly squirmed on her potty seat. I saw she
was about to blurt out words of disapproval. I turned my head to her. I
caught her eye. Despite my fright I tried to ease her own. Silently, for we
were being watched. She looked at me, I at her. We shared sympathies
with our eyes. Surely they would not mistreat us. Louis had merely
fucked me, a boyfriend and girlfriend exploring the newness of each
othersÕ bodies. And Andre had not abused her. I hoped we were just being
treated a little here, teased. Something different, something new. Yes,
the paddling had hurt. Being bent over by Rose, whacked on my fanny. Yet
IÕd felt a kind of delirium as it was done. I was so mortified, with the
maid watching, so shocked, and yet so free, so female. My breasts had felt
like love balloons, bouncing their fulsomeness beneath me. My bottom had
seemed to blossom under the punishment, my cheeks reddening like roses,
dewy springtime in my nest. And the men watching. Their eyes fixed on
me. ChristÕs Second Coming would not have torn their gaze away. For a
moment, I was the absolute center of their universe. Just me, the mother
goddess-girl, in total command of them despite my suffering.
Rose talked about last winter. The men listened, enjoying her voice,
looking at her sometimes, or just sitting with her and admiring Polly and
I, perched on our potty seats. I studied the wallpaper. So expensive, and
all devoted to me, at the moment, and Polly. There were rich shades of red
interwoven with paler yellows, and pinks. A chandelier above our heads
sparkled crystalline light upon our bodies. The maid stood mute. She
watched Polly, myself, like a schoolmarm after school supervising study
hall delinquents. PollyÕs soft young breasts, rising so nicely to impudent
points, their tips hard with excitement, rose and fell on her slim chest.
My own cones offered the same spectacle, my teats thrust forward by my
manacles, lifting with my inward breaths, dropping slightly when I
exhaled, jiggling their fleshiness with girlish allure. The soft,
imperceptible swell of my belly wished for babies. The maid studied my
navel. How many young had she birthed? She might have been pretty once,
but the exertions of bearing young had worn her down finally, stretching
her, filling her, increasing her size and her girth. I doubted sheÕd known
birth control. Each new year brought its season of spring, her belly
blooming full just as the new flowers opened. SummerÕs heat saw her in
the maternity shed, out back, grunting as she gave yet one more baby to
the world. I wished to know how RoseÕs farm hands lived. I knew a little,
from my travels. But I wanted to live amongst them, rise in the morning
with the dawning sun and toil all day under the masterÕs lash, bedding
down finally to the demands of my husbandÕs penis. Such dreamy thoughts
I had, sitting bound upon the childÕs potty. I think, at that moment, for
Louis, I would gladly have worked under his guidance for the rest of my
life. He would be the man of the plantation, I would be his willing slave.
He would train me to work in the fields and watch as I stooped over to
pick each little flowering cotton bud, the breeze lifting my short, thin
dress and exposing my bottom. Would he let me have panties? I doubted
it. He would watch me and use me and grow strong from my labor. He
would be the richest man in Georgia, and I, for a little while, in my
budding youth, I would be his peach. And when he left me for another girl
IÕd sneak into his room at night and stab him with a dagger, just as heÕd
stabbed me so many fruitful times with himself.
The men finished their drinks and the maid refilled their glasses.
Rose watched their carefree abandon, sitting with their punishment
forgotten on their frilled comforters. They had a better seat than I,
sitting on a hard plastic potty. I envied them. My arms were starting to
ache. I wanted to flex them, to move about. My thighs felt okay. Between
them I trembled, though, wishing for touches the law didnÕt allow. Here I
hoped the law wouldnÕt prevail. Rose made her own rules. I watched her
with obedience showing in my eyes. I would do her bidding. She would
test me, would satisfy me. Surely it would not be more than I could stand.
She herself looked fine, her hair neatly curled, her bosom impressive, her
toes peeking out from beneath her long flowing dress.
ÒMen, I really donÕt approve of you playing with yourselves,Ó Rose
said finally. The men looked up. They were both in mid-gulp with their
newly poured drinks, their hands on their penises, lightly stroking
themselves. The maid slipped into the bedroom a moment, then returned
with two extra large Penis Pumpers. Rose took them from her. ÒIf you
men insist on having stimulation, then IÕm really going to have to insist
you use these,Ó Rose said brightly.
Louis and Andre looked at the glass cylinders. They were long and
hollow and open at one end. Within each was a detachable rubber condom.
I realized a man could insert himself, ejaculate into the condom, and then
simply dispose of it when done. But what was the rubber tubing running
down from the tip of each glass? At its closed, snouted end, this tube ran
out, leash-like, until it ended in a rubber inflation ball. It reminded me of
a blood pressure cuff, except it wouldnÕt be putting pressure on your arm.
ÒIÕve never even used one of those,Ó Louis scoffed. Andre had a
slightly guilty look on his face. He was shy compared to Louis, though
built just as well. Had he been left alone on a Saturday night or two? I
glanced at Polly. She was looking down into her potty bowl. ÔThereÕs
nothing in there unless you put it there,Õ I wanted to say to her, but I kept
quiet instead. I was intrigued by the newfound plight of the men.
ÒThis is a place for doing new things,Ó Rose said quietly. She stood
up and walked over to the men. Her dress swished with refined grace. If
her boobs hadnÕt been joggling nakedly on her chest you might have thought
you were in an office with her. She knelt and laid AndreÕs pumper aside
for a moment, on the floor. She took the pumper intended for Louis and
frankly stuck his cock into it, first capturing him at the head like a
botanist might bag a butterfly with a net, then sliding all of him into the
tube with effort, as if putting in a snake. Louis watched, holding his drink
up to his chin, wanting to drink it but too mesmerized to remember it.
AndreÕs cock stood up proudly. He seemed unhappy at being put into the
tube, but there was noplace he could hide his stemming organ. Rose did
him next, gripping his shaft and jamming him all the way into the pump.
Then she returned to her chair, trailing out the tubing behind her. She sat
down primly, holding an inflation ball in each of her charming hands. Her
eyelashes fluttered. She smiled at Louis and Andre.
ÒReady, boys?Ó she asked. With delicate fingers she squeezed the
balls.
ÒWhoa,Ó Louis blurted, feeling the first pangs of pleasure as the
sheath in the glass gripped him more tightly. ÒIt feels just like a cunt.Ó
ÒItÕs supposed to,Ó Rose smiled. She squeezed the balls in her hands
rhythmically. With each new squish of them the men felt yet more
pressure upon their cocks. LouisÕ face turned red. He was like a virgin,
experiencing this particular depravity for the first time. I was delighted I
could see him in his newborn state, with no preconceptions, none of his
cynical moods. This was real, heÕd never felt it, and it had him not by the
balls but by his most precious asset of all, his dong. Andre had a little
smile on his face, as if to say, ÒAh, yes. I remember this. It made me feel
guilty, but it got rid of my blue balls.Ó I giggled and looked at Polly. She
stared wide-eyed. She did not notice AndreÕs guilt. She was just a child.
She had seen so little in life she could not pick up the nuances an adult
like me could. Well, I was only a year older than her, but I was ahead of
her, that was for sure. As she sat enthroned on the Potty, wondering at
her fate, I tried to feel more secure. I was with the man I loved.
ShouldnÕt that be enough? Polly was too, but she felt a childÕs love, a
marvelling kind of love that was unreflected upon, like a girl seeing her
first lollipop. IÕd tasted lollipops and liked them.
Our twin popsicle boys were up to their ears in pressure. They
gritted their teeth, watching with fretful eyes as Rose gave yet more
pumps to the little balls in her hands. She proceeded slowly now, letting
each man savor the interval, if he could, wondering if each pump would be
her last, hoping it would be.
Squish! Rose gave a final squeeze, or so I hoped, to the balls. She
grinned at the men with the smile of a contented cat. They would not dare
disobey her now. ÒI hope you donÕt drink too much,Ó Rose said, as the men
ordered more liquor from the maid, to ease their sweating brows. ÒAfter
all, youÕll need my permission to pee. I donÕt really think you want to try
going inside those things, do you? It would just add to the pressure, if
your urine could come out at all!Ó Louis nodded, grunted. ÒJust try to get
used to it, Louis. AndreÕs been there before, havenÕt you, Andre?Ó
ÒI never pumped mine up this much,Ó Andre confessed.
ÒWell, youÕre in a ladiesÕ hands now,Ó Rose replied. ÒYou men, when
you masturbate you do just as you please, donÕt you? My, my, thatÕs no
way to have fun. You must put yourself in a womanÕs hands. Let her decide
how fast, or how slow, how hard, or how easy. As for me, I expect the
most from my men. YouÕre both so big and strong, and proud of your
muscles. Well, youÕre penises mustnÕt be spared. Their training must be
just as rigorous. ThatÕs why I keep these Penis Pumpers on hand. I mean, I
have no use for them myself, hmmm? No, theyÕre just for unruly
customers, or, sometimes, if theyÕre lucky, for special customers like you
boys, big strong men used to having their way. Well, not in my house. The
girls are yours to do as you please with, but we must always remember
that between yourselves and me, IÕm the one who sets the rules.Ó
Louis shifted in his chair. He flexed his arms. They were like bullÕs
flanks, wide and muscular. ÒI ought to walk over there and break your
neck!Ó Louis scowled.
Rose flinched. Her skin was so white, so delicate, her neck rising
from her bare shoulders constricted a moment, then eased. ÒYes, I like
finding the very roughest men, who can still be trained, though not,
perhaps, by others, and breaking them to my will,Ó she said. Her face
looked a little worried, but she tried to smile. ÒItÕs that simple, Louis.
AndreÕs no problem. I enjoy him, who wouldnÕt? But itÕs men like you I
really seek, Louis. O.J. types, rough and tough and not afraid to take me on.
I guess I try to scare myself a little. But anyway, there you have it, Louis.
ItÕs better to be truthful, I suppose. You could probably leap right up and
strangle me, and kill everyone here to hide your crime, but thatÕs what
draws me to you, Louis. Please donÕt spoil it for me. Play along a little.
Rein in your lust and your anger.Ó
Like music in the ears of a savage beast, her high-pitched, lilting
voice, so cultured, so civilized, seemed to quiet LouisÕ lust, though it did
nothing to ease the condition of his erection. Perhaps heÕd been looking
for her. A woman who could find just the right way to break him. I felt
immensely jealous, but knew I was learning too. I tried to copy RoseÕs
poise, her shy self-assurance. She was very admirable, I thought. She
could wrap men round her fingers, men other women wouldnÕt dare touch,
and make them heel. Yes, heel. Louis was like a big dog, one that runs
everyday, a thick-chested doberman perhaps, all black and brooding and
deadly. HeÕd gone easy on me so far, but I knew he harbored vicious
passions. They might spill out of control at any moment, and then who
knew what might happen? If I werenÕt so young, he might have abused me
already. Instead, heÕd loved me with restraint, but it was a caged kind of
restraint, the kind an executioner shows to a prisoner before he
despatches her. Like Anne, I waited for my thousand days to be up.
Perhaps thatÕs what drew me to him, his awfulness, his pirate nature. As
a little girl IÕd snuck into a lionÕs cage once, crept close. HeÕd yawned,
watching me. IÕd yearned to stick my little head in his mouth, just once,
to impress myself with my boldness. My girlfriend had watched, too
scared to come into the cage with me. As I contemplated my chances of
dying or living the keeper came, shouted, rescued me from the cage. IÕd
only been three, but I knew loins werenÕt just storybook friends. Girls
could get eaten by them. I watched as he shut the cage door, made very
sure it was locked. Now I was inside the cage again. Society had locked
the door, most firmly. There were hotlines and neighbor patrols and
community meetings, but IÕd slipped into the cage again, found a loose
latch, exploited it. And here I was, showing my cunt, so bad, yet loving
how the men eyed me. Despite their imprisoned dongs they were looking
at myself and Polly again, watching us breathe, watching our titties
jiggle. Did they long to spurt in us? I knew they must.
I heard a tinkling sound. My face twisted to the side, my eyes
confronted my companion.
ÒPolly, youÕre peeing!Ó I hissed.
ÒOf course IÕm peeing! I have to go to the bathroom!Ó she declared.
She was a frank creature. She did not understand the exquisiteness of
trying to hold it, with the men watching. Maybe they relished the contrast
between us, her so artless, so unaware, me knowing more, striving to be
mature. As if she were in school, she peed into the bowl, her eyes
observing the stream. It ended with a few golden drops. She watched
them fall from her privates. She looked at Rose. ÒMay I go now?Ó she
asked.
ÒYou just went, dear,Ó Rose replied, laughing. Polly blushed. I felt
my face go red too. The maid smirked.
ÒThat makes me want to go too,Ó Andre said.
ÒDoes it?Ó Rose asked cheerily. ÒYou may do so, Andre. Provided one
thing...Ó
ÒWhatÕs that?Ó Andre asked. ÒJust tell me. IÕll do it. I need to pee
pretty badly.Ó
Rose bent forward and grasped the hem of her skirt. Lifting it up her
legs, she said, ÒYou must let me pee in your mouth.Ó
ÒWhat?!Ó Andre asked, his cry echoed by Louis. Rose got her skirt up
above her waist and tucked it in there so it wouldnÕt fall back down again
in front. I saw her legs were as flawless as IÕd imagined them. Long and
sleek, with thigh-high stockings making them into sheened columns,
statuesque. Though IÕd yet to see it, I knew her bottom must be a tight
ball of desire, wiggling freely when she walked yet high and perfectly
shaped, not yet broadened and fattened by children.
ÒCome, Andre,Ó Rose said. ÒNot in your pump, of course, but to me,
dear.Ó She tugged on the cord which held them together. Andre responded.
He got up and come to the woman who held his dong encased in the tube. I
smiled at his haunches. They were striated with cane-marks, yet he
seemed to have forgotten them, so deeply enmeshed was he in thoughts for
his penis, held and captured by Rose and now held for ransom in return for
a perverted act.
Andre knelt. Polly watched with amazed eyes.
ÒDonÕt worry, ItÕs just a game,Ó I assured her, though IÕd never seen
it played.
Rose lifted her heels onto her chair. She glanced at me, smiled. She
was sitting like Polly and I now, though in better comfort. She scooted
her bottom forward so that its forward edge might overhang the chairÕs
seat. ÒPut your mouth right up to my cunt,Ó Polly told Andre. ÒDonÕt let
any of my pee spill on the floor.Ó Andre obeyed. As his mouth drew close
to her his breath exhaled. Rose shivered, tossed her head back. Like a man
making a seal on something, Andre closed his mouth over RoseÕs pussy
tightly, perhaps hoping to repay her for the vacuum sheÕd slipped on his
dick. Rose sighed and gave a little cry. I knew AndreÕs tongue must be
dabbling within her. ÒAlright, Andre, IÕm going to pee now,Ó Rose said.
She looked at him as one might regard a puppy. AndreÕs cock waggled
between his legs.
ÒUrck!Ó emanated from AndreÕs mouth, all covered up but still
audible, the sound no doubt coming out his ears as he suddenly felt his
mouth squirted with pee.
ÒDonÕt drink it, Andre. Just let it fill your mouth. ThatÕs it, exhale
and inhale through your nose. Let your cheeks puff out. They can hold a lot
of fluid. Yes, youÕre a good doggie, Andre. Let your mistress pee right into
you. Enjoy the taste of her flow over your tongue. DonÕt fight it. Ahhh,
youÕre my diaper, Andre. I love you.Ó
When Rose was finished, Andre looked like one of those puffer fish
you see in the ocean. She let him stand up and he looked around for
somewhere to empty himself. Louis exploded into laughter, seeing his
condition. ÒYou should be paraded around in front of the other guests, you
pantywaist!Ó Louis roared. Andre glowered at him but could say nothing
for fear of losing the pee. The maid went into the bedroom, returned with
a bowl. It looked like it might have held candies.
ÒIn here,Ó the maid said gruffly. Andre put his face over the bowl.
He seemed like a dental patient, gazing into that bowl, his cheeks swollen.
And then, with a spluttering whoosh, he dumped his mouthful of RoseÕs pee
into it.
ÒGive him some bourbon to wash his mouth out,Ó Rose told the maid.
She nodded. She set the bowl aside, to take downstairs, and went to the
little bar where our drinks were made. She poured a tall glass of bourbon
for Andre, brought two empties along for him to spit into. Andre returned
to his seat and gratefully received the new liquor. He cleansed his mouth
most thoroughly. Rose eyed Louis. ÒMy bladder is filling again,Ó she
warned him. Louis frowned and decided to look down at his cock. Rose
eased the pressure a little, twisting the knob beneath the ball to let out
some air.
ÒThank you,Ó Louis breathed.
ÒYouÕre being very good, Louis,Ó Rose complimented him. ÒShall I
leave my dress up? Do you like seeing my bush?Ó Her voice sounded
curious, as if she wanted a true answer, not just a lusty remark.
ÒGod, I love your cunt,Ó Louis confessed. He looked from his own
privates to hers. ÒTake the dress off, take everything off. Get on the
floor and let me fuck you!Ó
ÒIÕll start with the dress,Ó Rose replied. She stood and unzipped
herself in back. The garment fell down, pooled round her ankles. Daintily
she stepped out of it. She turned about and presented her bottom to LouisÕ
eyes. ÒMost men like my ass best,Ó she grinned. It was perfect, round and
upended like a bottom should be, with graceful twin cheeks that begged to
be poked. She bent forward and gave her tushy a little wiggle.
ÒGod, I could die in that ass!Ó Louis crowed.
ÒWell, Louis, youÕre about to,Ó Rose replied. With a devilish grin she
backed up to him. As the maid picked up her dress off the floor she stuck
her butt right into LouisÕ face. I could see he was getting a brownnose,
without even having to ask. ÒDo I smell good, Louis?Ó Rose asked. Louis,
his nose apparently stuck inside her shithole, nodded as best he could.
ÒFuck me with your tongue,Ó Rose insisted. ÒYou know where. Put it right
in. It will teach you a good lesson for speaking meanly to me.Ó
As I watched with shocked eyes and a jealously burning heart, Louis
introduced his tongue to RoseÕs butthole. She spread her cheeks with her
hands and he found himself suddenly accommodated. Had she been enlarged
to take a man more easily there? I did not know. His tongue browned,
Louis began to fuck her with it just as he might have done with his penis.
She laughed, then cried. Tears of joy, I guessed. How intimate, to have
your love clean out your butthole for you! Louis tongued faster now,
stabbing her repeatedly in her ass, making her moan and beg for more. She
forced her perfect fanny back into him more, urging him deeper. As Andre
watched, feeling suddenly let off easy, Louis gouged out RoseÕs hole with
his darting tongue.
Rose slipped her hand down to her pussy and massaged her clit. Her
delicate, long-nailed fingers worked expertly over her own sex. She
shrieked with pleasure. How odd it felt to see our discreet, cultured
mistress pleasuring herself, while my boyfriend reamed her butt.
Somehow, feeling a little detached, I imagined I could be seeing my own
mother, a few years younger perhaps, getting it from my dad. It seemed
something I should not be seeing. Yet it was transpiring right in front of
me, like two parents fucking in front of baby lying in the crib.
Polly gave a little cough. I looked at her, she at me. There was an
ersatz smile on her face. Her teeth sparkled whitely.
ÒDid you get splashed?Ó I asked her, looking down at her bulbing
bottom cheeks where they hung within the potty seat. It brimmed full
with her pee.
ÒA little,Ó she replied, lisping. I could tell she wanted someone to
finger her. Her pussy lips puffed with temptation. Even fingering herself
would have been quite satisfactory, IÕm sure. I knew thatÕs how sheÕd
usually found pleasure in life, lying in bed, dreaming, her finger busy down
below.
Louis must have had something of the true gentleman in him, despite
all his hardness, his surlyness. For, as he strove to tongue Rose as deeply
as possible (despite the obvious availability of his dick, which would have
done the job much more completely) he reached to RoseÕs front with his
hand. Gently he pulled her own sticky fingers away from herself and
replaced them with his own much more expert ones. His calloused, hairy
male digits carefully rubbed her round her spot, then a little over it,
making circles, tiny circles, doing her with care and grace like a woman
wants it, despite the fact she was making him clean out her bottom. Rose
howled with throat-wrenching passion. She placed her hand over his and
thanked him by pressing him more deeply into her. She abandoned herself
to love, ramming her buttcheeks into his face again and again. I knew then
why I loved Louis so much. He could be mean, and tough, and he loved to
swagger, but when the chips were really down he gave his all, even if you
teased and tortured him. He fondled you and kissed you and (yes) tongued
you, a perfect gentleman in the throes of love, despite all that had gone
before; the barbs, the slights, the arguments, the slaps and (if you
provoked him enough) the beatings. And, looking at his cock, I knew the
night wouldnÕt end simply with him tongue-fucking her. She, or somebody,
was going to get LouisÕ glorious dick rammed right up her. Then he would
be rough again, slamming himself into you and making you groan and
making your body creak like all your bones would crack, until at last you
lay under him puddle-like, all teary and honeyed and spent.
The maid ignored RoseÕs wanton cries. She freed Andre from his
cock-tube, as his reward for being a human urinal for her mistress. Andre,
his face delirious with delight at finally having his cock back, sank into
his chair with its comforter and just sat a moment, staring at his
erection, savoring how it swayed hugely above his crotch, as if saying,
ÒFree at last! Free at last! Thank god IÕm free at last.Ó Cocks couldnÕt
speak, of course, but his seemed like it wished to. His balls tremored
underneath, his nuts swamped with sperm, hoping soon to ejaculate it.
Her skirts bustling round her, the maid approached us. She did not
look at us. We were nothing to her. She placed a hand on the front of
PollyÕs potty and to my surprise I saw the front of it open. The maid
reached in and pulled out the bowl which held PollyÕs pee. She left with
it, went downstairs. A minute later she returned with a clean bowl and
put it in where the other had been. She snapped the front of PollyÕs toilet
shut. Then she opened the front of my potty. She took out my bowl and
looked inside. There was nothing there. I still held my pee inside me. She
put my bowl back, closed up my toilet, and returned to her corner where
she waited to serve us.
Rose finished her course with Louis. I heard footsteps on the stairs.
The young girl who had served us earlier appeared. She held a plateful of
steaming hot towels. A metal cover was over them, but the fat maid
lifted it up, took out a towel, and went over to Louis. She wiped his face
as a mom might clean up her five-year-old, fresh from the backyard mud.
The young maid departed. I watched her go. I wished she would stay. I
liked her better than the old one.
Standing, nude but for her stockings and pumps, Rose walked to the
plateful of towels. Her hips swung with fulfillment. She had a gorgeous
bottom, all round and boldly jiggling, with a free, swaying grace that
announced she was a woman. She took a towel for herself, walked back to
the men, and spoke quietly and cheerfully to them as she stood before
them, toweling off her privates. Then she wiped AndreÕs dick with her
towel to clean him up a little too. HeÕd been drooling precum like a baby
drools spittle, watching her and Louis get it on.
ÒItÕs time to get you out of that horrid Pumper, Louis,Ó Rose laughed
to him. She knelt before him, gradually released the pressure in the tube,
and then drew it off him. She tilted the tube to her eye and looked inside
to make sure Louis hadnÕt spent any of his sperm in it. ÒJust precum,Ó
Rose said approvingly. The maid brought a towel and Rose wiped down
Louis like she might do a horse, loving and cherishing his erection, making
me jealous. I could do nothing but watch. My hands were still bound
tightly behind me, locked in hard police steel, leaving my titties and pussy
to whomever might wish to plunder them. I felt tender and vulnerable. I
had no protection if one of them should choose to do something awful to
me.
Rose gazed at me with catÕs eyes when she was done wiping my
boyfriend. ÒFleury, youÕre proving quite a champion today, holding back
your pee,Ó she said to me. ÒBut IÕm afraid IÕm going to have to encourage
you a little. PollyÕs peed, and me too. Now itÕs your turn.Ó She approached
me. Beyond, the maid brought empty, narrow-necked liquor bottles for the
men.
ÒWhat are these for?Ó I heard Louis ask. Rose turned, looked back
over her shoulder. ÒDonÕt you have to go? Put your penis tip to the open
neck of the bottle and see if you can fill it with dandelion wine, as we call
it here. IÕll make a girl drink it if you do. Some girl you donÕt even know.
Piss in the bottle and fill it up for her. When youÕre gone, off at your job
or elsewhere, you can remember your homemade bottle of wine here, and
know that some female will be made to cherish every drop. Piss, Louis. A
fine penis like yours must make excellent pee.Ó
With that inspiration, Louis wedged the bulbous nose of his cock up
against the open bottleneck and lustily let loose his urine. Andre did the
same. Rose returned her gaze to me and put her fingers to my pussy.
Lightly she tickled me.
ÒDoonÕt!Ó I cried. Beyond her I saw my boyfriend peeing, and PollyÕs,
and suddenly she started a stream of her own. Rose put a hand between
her own legs and, standing there before me, suddenly began peeing on the
carpet. The maid rushed forward to catch what she could. I guessed sheÕd
be the one to have to clean the rug.
ÒPee with us,Ó Rose urged, tickling my cunny.
ÒNo, I, itÕs too perverted,Ó I gasped. I did not want to be a full-
grown girl of 14 peeing like a two-year old on a plastic potty. I felt a
bubbling within me. I could not hold it! Suddenly, peeing over her fingers,
I made my offering. Rose smiled. No more words were exchanged. We
stared at each other, then both looked down into the bowl as my pee came
out. It was utterly decadent. The moment seemed to last forever, the men
peeing behind Rose, she herself wetting the carpet, the maid scrambling to
get down between her legs with a teapot, the only thing sheÕd had to grab
when Rose suddenly decided to go; and Polly, childishly peeing into her
potty with not the slightest reservation. It was a potty, after all, and she
was a girl who wished to go.
In a few moments all our bladders were empty. The men sat back
down in their chairs. The young maid appeared, took their bottles away,
inspecting the contents and thanking them for their contribution to the
estate. The menÕs urine would brood in chilled wine cellars, next to
expensive wines, until they were ripe and ready to drink. The finest pee-
wine, aged to perfection, from men with impressive dongs and girl would
beg to have put up her.
The older maid withdrew the teapot from between RoseÕs legs. She
brought a hot towel for Rose to wipe her hand on. Rose cleaned her
fingers. Then she let the maid withdraw my bowel and, when it was gone,
she reached between my legs and toweled me with the hot towel. After
sheÕd done me, and the maid had taken PollyÕs bowl away, she towelled
Polly too. We both squirmed at the feeling of the towel, so steamy and
hot, touching us in our most erotic parts. Polly let out a little yelp of
pleasure as her own spot was cleansed and aroused. I guessed Rose might
be preparing us for the next step. Being fucked. It could not be delayed
much longer. The men were hard beyond belief, trembling with their
hugely swollen balls, desperate to cum. Polly and I had been teased and
tormented to distraction. Only Rose seemed calm. Perhaps thatÕs why she
had gone first. Being done with her orgasm, she could now cooly play the
ringmistress to the rest of us. Yes, that must be it. SheÕd used Louis to
bring her off so she could more accurately guide he and I as we did it, and
Andre and Polly. That was our purpose here, wasnÕt it? To be mated. To
make love to each other as we never had before.
Rose lifted each of my heels out of the little holes on either side of
the potty which held them aloft. She set my feet down on the dresser. I
felt sensible again, not all exposed like some underage tart, dreaming of
being broken by the overseer out in the fields or in the stables. Rose took
a key from the dresser and reached around behind me and unlocked my
handcuffs.
Oh, how wonderful it felt! I lifted my arms and rubbed my wrists
and inspected them. There were red marks where they handcuffs had
bound them. ÒStand up,Ó Rose said. She took the tips of my fingers and
helped me rise up from the toilet. With her hands guiding me I stepped
down from the dresser. Then, she made me pause, a finger touched to one
of my nipples. She took PollyÕs panties from the dresser top and smiled at
me and told me to open my mouth.
Oh, God! I did not want to. But, somehow, I let her urge my teeth
apart, and she replaced the panties in my mouth. ÒGo to Andre,Ó she said.
I shook my head no. My eyes were wide with disapproval. ÒYes, Andre,Ó
she insisted. ÒIÕll not have any opportunities wasted. He has a fine penis
and I want you on it. Polly will have your lover this first night. You are
still a slave, my darling. Go to Andre and take hold of his penis. DonÕt let
him cum, or put it in you. Just hold it possessively like you would LouisÕ,
and IÕll be with you momentarily.Ó
I obeyed. Trembling, looking straight into LouisÕ eyes as I walked to
Andre, who stood to receive me, I walked with swinging hips and naked,
jiggling tits. I clasped AndreÕs penis as, somewhere behind me, Polly let
out a squeak of dismay.
ÒYes, Polly, she will have your wonderful boyfriend. But you will
have Louis,Ó Rose told her.
ÒI donÕt want Louis. HeÕs too mean,Ó Polly insisted. But Rose
replaced her bra over her mouth and tightened it so that no more could be
heard from her. She loosed her handcuffs and made her stand and guided
her, wobbly-legged, her breasts bobbing like tennis balls on her chest,
down from the dresser. Rose led her over to Louis and Polly looked for all
the world like a first-grader being brought into the schoolhouse to meet
her new teacher. Louis received her with a groping hug and kissed her
deeply. Polly squealed unhappily as his broad palms gripped and explored
her angel bottom. Andre patted mine. I knew how they both wanted us.
TheyÕd conspired together, I realized, and decided they must both have our
buttholes. PollyÕs was already prepared. Rose turned me around and
helped Andre part my cheeks. The maid brought vaseline and as I stood
there, watching Polly embrace my boyfriend in a prolonged kiss, my
asshole was prepared for fucking.
ÒTime for bed, gang!Ó Rose said cheerily when IÕd been readied for
love. Andre and Louis marched myself and Polly back into the little girlÕs
bedroom. ÒUp on the bed, girls,Ó Rose ordered. Together Polly and I
scrambled up on it, not wanting to, but having to. Rose got out her whippy
cane just in case we disobeyed. ÒHeads on the pillows, bottoms high,Ó she
said. I gulped. I prayed a fucking was all we were getting. Breathing hard
with nervousness, Polly and I both crouched on the bed. Our heads bumped,
then our hips. We were sisters of mercy, about to milk our men, and I
hoped theyÕd be merciful.
Rose untied PollyÕs bra from her head and drew it off. ÒOh, I want to
go home!Ó Polly declared at once. Rose turned her attention to me and
removed the panties from my mouth.
ÒKiss for luck,Ó Rose told us. We turned and looked back at her over
the naked spheres of our heart-spit asses.
ÒMaynÕt I please go home?Ó Polly repeated. Rose gave no answer.
Instead she swung her cane in and caught us both at once in a sweeping
stroke that burned into the tenderest, choicest part of our bottoms, right
on the underside of our cheeks, where they meet with our thighs.
ÒOoohoooo!Ó Polly and I both cried together, gasping into each otherÕs
open mouths. Then, realizing weÕd misbehaved, and that there was no
escape, we jammed our faces into each other and kissed for all we were
worth.
ÒVery good,Ó Rose complimented. ÒYouÕll need each other, girls. Get
acquainted and comfort each other.Ó She turned and took vaseline from
the drawer of the nightstand and began greasing up the men. Oh, how I
wished to be the one to lube those manly genitals, but the privilege fell to
Rose. I was left with kissing little Polly, both of us nervous and scared.
Someday, perhaps, IÕd get to have my own castle and entertain studs, but
right now I was still just an eighth-grader, out at night when I should be
home studying. Would my mom worry about me? Suddenly I wished to be
with her instead of here, nasty as she was, doing my chores and being a
good daughter. But it was too late, too late!
The bed creaked. Polly and I felt ourselves bounce upon it as both
Louis and Andre got in with us. Their cocks were enormous and Polly and
I, wriggling our cane-struck bottoms, tried to peek back at them as we
kept on kissing each other, lest we be smacked again. The men kneed their
way forward like roosters, proud and tall and with penises stemming. I
felt a bulbous cock-nose wedge itself into my indwelling bottomcrack. A
bump against my anus. I remembered Max, his torments with quinine and
dildoes, that had come so close to splitting apart my behind. Now danger
loomed again, though it was natural cockflesh, hard and pulsing and
definitely wielded by a male who would not be denied.
Polly cried in alarm as she felt Louis test her virgin hole. Oh, I
pitied her. She had never had this before. Louis would be relentless, I
feared. He was hungry as a tiger and his thing was gigantic. I heard Louis
grunt as he forced his peehole into her, wedging her hole wide with his
flaring penis head.
ÒNo, no, no, no, I want to go hoooome!Ó Polly begged.
ÒQuiet, bitch!Ó Louis snarled. His voice sent a shiver of terrible fear
down my own spine, and I was not even receiving him. Polly began crying.
I shouted as Andre found me receptive and pushed his cock into me like a
hard bolt being slammed into a lock. I guess MaxÕs training had done a
little to ease my tightness, if only at the psychological level.
Instinctively IÕd let my cheeks part to receive Andre, not even conscious
of it, thanks to the long hours in MaxÕs basement with a fake dong up my
butt.
Polly had no such training. She compressed her valentine cheeks as
tight as she could, crying all the while. Louis rammed her hard, making no
headway. In frustration he rose from her bottom. He got off the bed,
rocking it, his cock bitterly hard between his legs, swinging with febrile
male impatience. He presented his erection to Rose. ÒSheÕs impossible,Ó
he said. ÒBend over. I cannot wait.Ó
Rose smiled. She turned around and presented her ass to Louis. She
bent double and placed her delicate hands on her ankles. ÒNot in my
bottom, please,Ó she said. ÒI have to take someone else there, later this
evening, and he always fucks me quite hard.Ó
ÒI donÕt care,Ó Louis answered.
ÒLouis!Ó Rose cried in dismay. He took her in her ass even as I felt
Andre ensconce himself to the full in me and begin to saw away. Polly
knelt beside me, her face in her hands, weeping. Her bottom remained
poised just as it had been before. The men worked Rose and I, forcing
themselves in very deep, then drawing back, almost popping out of us, only
to slam in again. I croaked and groaned and heard Rose moaning where she
stood victimlike on the floor, still neat in her heels, her hair nicely
coiffed, but twisted right over so that her lips kissed her knees.
ÒPlease, just cum!Ó I begged Andre. He was drilling in and out of me
like a maniac, delighted to find IÕd been trained to show the least
resistance to anal penetration.
ÒGod, youÕre so tight! And yet, you know how to receive me, to work
with me instead of against me,Ó Andre marvelled. He shafted himself
repeatedly in my buns, admiring his glistening cock on the outstroke,
relishing its penetration when he thrust his hips forward again.
ÒYou should date more -- more older girls!Ó I gasped. ÒWe know how
to dolooo it!Ó I was losing my ability to speak properly, he was buggering
me so vigorously. Beside me, Polly in her innocence kept her face hidden.
Her lofted bottom squeezed tight as it could to keep any men from
attempting it. But I knew what that would get her. I said nothing. I was
being fucked all the way to the promised land and back again, all in my
little hole.
ÒLouis! Enough! Spurt, please!Ó Rose begged my boyfriend. ÒI canÕt
take anymore!Ó He hammered her mercilessly. Perhaps Polly had been
right to deny him, though sheÕd surely pay for it later, with pain across
her bottom instead of inside it.
ÒI want to cum but IÕm so hard I canÕt,Ó Louis said gleefully, each
word exploding separately from his mouth, like shells from a cannon. Rose
screamed, high-pitched. Louis growled like a lion and his buttcheeks
flexed tight. Somehow, just as with PollyÕs bottom, though I couldnÕt see
with my eyes yet I could sense all just by hearing. She was tight as a
kitten, too young to fuck, Rose was split wide and enduring, LouisÕ
buttcheeks contracted to tight little buns as he now spewed his sperm
into her backside. I was tight and loose at the same time, naturally tight
but trained to give way to the penis. Andre shouted and I knew his
beautiful white buns were squeezing themselves together, just as LouisÕ
were, for suddenly I felt a wet gushing come shooting up my fanny.
Within a few minutes all was done. Our teasing had climaxed. We
shuddered down from the heights of bliss to a sweat-sheened aftermath. I
reached for Polly and kissed her mouth, lifting it from her hands, as her
boyfriend withdrew himself from me.
ÒIt was good, Polly, it was really good, you should try it sometime,Ó
I said to her maliciously. She whimpered and tried to resist my kisses,
but was too awed by her circumstances to do so. She kept her bottom
poised, naughtily, I thought, as if to beg for what sheÕd just refused. Did
she want it or not? I could not tell. I donÕt think she knew. Rose stood
and brushed back her long hair, turned and kissed Louis. Andre kissed my
back, then my bottom, as I engaged Polly in a deep, feminine kiss, a kiss
between sisters, though we were just friends.
ÒLet us have some refreshments,Ó Rose said, parting at last from
Louis. ÒI can stay a little longer before I have to go meet some more
guests. SaturdayÕs a busy night, you know. But itÕs been wonderful
meeting you, Louis. You fuck like a monster. Somehow IÕll have to talk my
next guest out of taking me up my ass.Ó
ÒItÕs your ass, not mine,Ó Louis replied callously. I trembled. It was
that carefree callousness that attracted me to him, yet it left me sure IÕd
find myself by the roadside someday, abandoned, pregnant with his child,
while he went off to sow his seed elsewhere, a Johnny Appleseed of love.
Rose led us back into the private parlor. I drew up Polly from her
posture of submission and she walked with me, holding my hand tightly,
knowing she would probably have to pay for her disobedience on the bed.
Rose sat back down in her chair, queenlike, and the men returned to their
own comforter-clad seats. Rose rang for the maid and had her bring out
two more comforters, one for her newly fucked ass and one for me. Polly
was made to sit down with her bottom right on the rug. I got to sit beside
her, on the rug, but with a comforter under me since IÕd given up my anal
privacy to Andre.
Punch was brought, liquor-laced, to ease us and make us feel
comfortable. Mine tasted good. Polly liked hers. Rose smiled, sipped her
punch. The men expressed a need to pee again and Rose told them to finish
their punch, then pee in their empty glasses.
ÒNow Polly, you will have to relax those bottomcheeks and get over
your inhibitions,Ó Rose told the girl. Polly looked up at Rose, her eyes
wide above the rim of her glass of punch, sipping it down slowly, watching
as the floating orange peel in her cup drifted beneath her snub little nose.
ÒYou see, when youÕve been caned, then youÕll be thinking so much about
how your bottom hurts that you wonÕt be able to resist a man up your hole.
ItÕs quite necessary, really. Men deserve to be able to fuck your bottom
and you may as well let me get you going here, at the castle. I realize
Louis might have been a little rough with you, but donÕt let that scare you.
He was desperate, thatÕs all. I took care of him, as it turned out.Ó Rose
shifted uncomfortably on her comforter. She touched her bottom with her
fingers. ÒReally, Louis, that was awfully hard. IÕm lucky IÕm not
bleeding.Ó
ÒYouÕre lucky youÕre not dead!Ó Louis chortled.
ÒYou scare me sometimes, Louis,Ó Rose answered. The maid set
down a potty next to Polly for us to share. She got on it, perhaps hoping to
escape the whipping Rose was proposing to her.
ÒMy cup is full,Ó Andre announced, looking down at his empty punch
glass. It held his pee now, right to the brim.
ÒEmpty it for him, Matilda,Ó Rose told the maid. She took his glass,
brought another. I wondered at her silence. She was so big and fat and
old, so gnarly. Again I felt embarrassment at being nude in front of her,
but there seemed to be nothing I could do about it. As Polly peed into the
potty I looked around for something to wrap myself in, saw nothing.
Rose let a silence obtain. Her voice quieted, PollyÕs pee filling the
potty was the only sound. Then Rose cleared her throat. She dipped her
finger into her drink, drew it out, watched it drip a moment back into the
punch, then licked it clean. ÒMen, I have another engagement,Ó she said
with a certain meekness. Yet there was a definiteness to her tone which
seemed unbreachable. The men said nothing. Their cocks had been
serviced, their faces seemed satisfied. It had been such an agony for
them, waiting to spend, that I think they might have shot more than theyÕd
hoped in coming, perhaps exhausting themselves. Still, their penises both
seemed to flinch and rise a little at her words, especially LouisÕs. What
was he up to?
ÒGirls, say goodbye to your men. YouÕll be staying with me awhile,Ó
Rose told me and Polly. Poor Polly, holding her drink delicately aloft as
she peed, almost spilled it on herself.
ÒBut- but,Ó Polly blurted. And I knew what her objection was. In
addition to losing her boyfriend, she had yet to cum. Her coyness had
proven too coy. I saw her pat her tummy suddenly, then slide her hand
lower. Rose gave her a warning look. She had kept her long, swishy cane
with her and she sat with it across her knees. It kept the men in line as
well as me and Polly. Despite her sumptuous breasts, Rose was delicate
as a flower petal. She needed the cane, I knew. It was her only protection.
Night after night she must play this dangerous game, teasing powerful
men, yet always, somehow, maintaining control, often with just her well-
wielded cane coming between herself and them. How had she fared when
she was still inexpert with it? I guessed sheÕd had to learn fast, to keep
herself from being raped and killed by men in the throes of passion.
Louis stood. His frame rippled with his powerful muscles,
seemingly chiseled from stone, now all in subtle movement as he walked
first to Polly and, bending low, lifted her hand. He kissed it. She watched
him with big eyes, preschooler eyes, as she sat on the Potty, the last
wisps of her pee sprinkling into the toilet.
ÒGoodnight, little cunt,Ó Louis said sardonically to Polly. Then he
came to me. He thrust his rising cock at my lips, arching his hips into my
face. At the same time he reached down and patted my head, fondled my
hair. ÒBe good,Ó he told me. Reluctantly, not liking the blatantness of it, I
kissed his penis for him. He made me kiss him right on his pee hole. There
was no way to avoid it. Polly giggled.
Andre presented his loins to Polly and, at a cross word from Rose,
she was forced to kiss her boyfriendÕs pee hole just as I had been. Then
both men left us. They exited through the little girlÕs bedroom. The maid
followed them, to gather their clothes for them and help them dress.
ÒOh, please donÕt go,Ó Polly commanded in a whining voice from the
throne of her potty. Rose remained seated in her chair, waiting for the
men to pass out. The maid closed the door to the little girlÕs room a
moment later, and I heard her lock the door.
The young maid entered the room. Curiously, she was naked, her hair
tousled, her cunny wet and showing signs of having been fucked. The night
was growing late. All who might were partaking now, I guessed, maids
and guests alike. The maid trembled with repressed lust. Had she been
interrupted in mid-fuck? Rose looked up at her, surprised. I guessed she
did not know the maid, perhaps with the connivance of the old one, had
been getting bonked downstairs.
The girl bent close to her mistress and whispered in her ear. ÒOh
my,Ó Rose replied. Suddenly she seemed to forget entirely that our maid
was nude and wet. Something more pressing had been brought to her
attention. ÒOh, well,Ó Rose looked at us. ÒItÕs hardly what IÕd hoped for,
but these two are the only two available,Ó she mused aloud to herself.
Polly stood up from the potty. Her luck seemed to be turning worse every
moment she sat there. ÒGirls,Ó Rose said abruptly. ÒCome downstairs
with me.Ó Rose stood up, a mood crossing her countenance that dictated
complete obedience.
ÒOh, but what for?Ó Polly asked. She made to sit down on her potty
again. I could smell her pee in the bowl. I wished she would not add more
to it.
ÒDo not ask why,Ó Rose replied. ÒBut to keep from splitting my cane
across your backside, IÕll tell you that youÕve won a little reprieve. WeÕre
going out, girls. And here I was just getting you all ready, Polly, for a
nice whipping. Well, you hardly drank any of your punch, anyway. Good.
YouÕll need to be alert. Flurry, no more punch for you. Give me your glass.Ó
Reluctantly I got up from my comforter, straining to rise and unbend
myself. IÕd been happy, sitting on the floor, sipping my liquored punch,
letting my well-reamed ass close in on itself again. Andre had been big,
and my bottom wished simply to sit and recover. But I was forced to turn
over my half-empty glass to Rose, who handed it to the maid. The young
female looked at it a moment, then gulped it down.
ÒNever mind,Ó Rose said to her, and stepped past the girl. Then she
turned, gazed at her again, and handed her the cane she carried. ÒTake this
and whip yourself with it,Ó she said. ÒYou deserve it, for dereliction of
duties, but I havenÕt the time to whip you for getting laid on the job. Make
sure you have some nice stripes on your ass when I come back or IÕll do it
myself.Ó Rose then beckoned Polly and I. Seeing a chance to depart from
the presence of the cane, Polly and I quickly followed. As we went down
the steps I turned once, saw the maid trying to whack her own hiney with
the cane. She looked silly, trying to stick her ass out, only to draw it in
when she banged the cane down upon herself. I turned and went
downstairs. A little howl trailed down the stairs after me. I guessed
sheÕd finally managed to mark herself, regretted it. Would she continue?
I did not know.
I found myself in a large storeroom at the base of the stairs. A flour
sack had split open and lay with its contents upon the floor. Nearby a
naked man stood. He looked like a gardener. He held a cap with a feather
in it over his genitals. There was a little flour on him. Rose laughed,
seeing this male specimen standing buck naked amidst the soup cans and
preserved fruit and dried meat, the rows of boxed foodstuffs and the sacks
of potatoes.
ÒIs the maid preparing you for dinner?Ó Rose asked. The man replied
in Spanish. I could not understand him. I guessed he was the paramour of
the girl upstairs who was now inexpertly trying to flog herself. Rose
passed on, we followed. Polly turned to peek at the manÕs butt as we
passed.
ÒHe has cute buns,Ó she confided to me. She sounded like sheÕd not
said such a compliment before, as if she were trying it out for the first
time.
ÒDonÕt try to be naughty, Polly,Ó I said to her. ÒYouÕre naughty
enough as it is, just being yourself.Ó
ÒNo IÕm not,Ó she pouted. ÒI just wanted to see, thatÕs all.Ó
ÒYou just want someone to stick his big thing up you,Ó I teased.
ÒNo I donÕt!Ó she insisted. We might have continued this banter, but
Rose guided us outside into the darkness and chilliness. The midnight sky
opened up overhead. Except for a light on what I guessed was gardenerÕs
shed, we stood in moonlight and starlight only. I looked up, Polly did too.
Our earthly thoughts were forgotten.
ÒOoooh, I see the big dipper!Ó Polly said, pointing.
ÒThatÕs the Southern Cross,Ó I replied. Or was it Orion? There were
so many stars.
ÒBend over, you two, IÕve got to wash your bottoms,Ó Rose announced
from behind us. How did she get back there? I heard a splashing sound. I
turned and saw sheÕd got hold of a hose. There was a gurgling as the hose
filled itself to full force. Rose lifted the hose. Polly and I stood
wonderingly a moment. Then, grabbing her hand, I bent low and took her
with me. I fixed my gaze on the shed with the light on it down in the
mellowing fields. Summer was upon them, the cool night sky of summer
consoling them after a long dayÕs heat.
ÒEEEEEeeeek!Ó came wailing into my ears, and I thought it was Polly
for a moment, then realized it was the girl upstairs. I heard a gruff voice.
Was it the man weÕd seen in the storeroom? There was a sound like the
wind, though far off, as if blowing from the upstairs window, and the girl
screamed again. I heard a distinctive crack of palmstem, singing as it met
with fulsome bottomflesh. How could there be a window upstairs, I
wondered? IÕd seen none. Perhaps it had been covered over, to allow us
privacy. Obviously the young maidÕs suitor now wished to let in the night
air. If her cries at being punished entertained his fellows out in the shed
or the huts of the field hands, so be it. They would no doubt congratulate
him for his exertions, I guessed.
ÒYeeeek!Ó Polly shouted next to me, right in my ear. My cry joined
hers as I felt the ice-cold hose water whoosh upon my bottom.
ÒHold still, girls, we havenÕt time for a bath,Ó Rose admonished us
both as we leapt up. I looked back at her a moment, then decided I wished
to have AndreÕs seed washed out of me however I might. It felt like the
Antarctic was going up my bottom, but no matter. I took Polly round her
waist and made sure she suffered with me. After all, it was her
boyfriendÕs spunk that had been pumped into me. We both bent over again,
and Rose applied the hose to our backsides. Polly hooted in dismay, even
as the girl upstairs yelled anew at the ass-searing cane. She was too hot
on her derriere, we were too cold. There seemed to be no happy medium
here. Our cries mingled, each of us wishing we could trade places.
Rose gave me the hose a moment later and bent over. She directed
me to clean off her bottom, just as sheÕd done to me. I took the hose and,
with a gleam of revenge in my eyes, happily made her scream as I doused
her with the water. It was the temperature of an ice berg. Polly stood
shivering nearby, watching, holding herself. The screams of the girl
upstairs subsided into sobs. Soon I heard her moaning, and a cry of
Òdeeper!Ó wafted down, mingled with the urgent grunts of her boyfriend.
She would need the hose next, I surmised.
ÒCome, we must dress. There is really no time!Ó Rose said. She
stood erect again and took my hand, casting aside the hose. She did not
bother to turn it off. We hurried back inside. I felt grateful for the
warmth of the storeroom as we passed back into it. We did not go back
upstairs. Instead Rose led us into a laundry room. There I saw clothes
neatly folded in piles, as well as more waiting to be washed. I imagined
the old maid worked down here, laundering clothes, seeing and smelling
everyoneÕs residue after theyÕd fucked. The discarded panties, the torn
bras, the sheets with their distinctive, tell-tale wet spot.
ÒAh, the satin sheets. These were on the bed where Lord Astor
entertained his new lady friend last night. What was her name? Miss
Elginvale, yes. Runs the local childrenÕs charity in town. Always on T.V. I
like her jewels,Ó the washerwoman would murmur to herself. She would
know all the gossip, intimately, just by sniffing the sheets.
Rose rummaged through the pile of clean laundry. She found two pair
of cutoff shorts and handed them to us. We took them, still dripping wet.
ÒOh yes, a towel!Ó she declared. She got towels for each of us, finding
them in the stack of clean laundry, then pulled t-shirts out for us too, and
scarfs to tie around our necks, that we might not be too plain.
ÒOh, I have to get these stockings off!Ó Rose said of herself. She
yanked down her hose. ÒTake off your heels if you like, and IÕll give you
tennies,Ó she added.
A few minutes later we emerged from the laundry room. We were
ready to go out on the town. At short notice, I thought we looked pretty
good. ThereÕd been no time for bras or panties. I wore a simple pair of
cutoff shorts, cut too high in the back, I thought, where my bottomcheeks
hung out a little. They were frayed and there was no belt for them, but
they did the job of covering my most important parts, except for the little
hole over my bottomcheek, the right one, giving a sneak preview to people
that I wished they might not have.
For my top, I wore a tee-shirt with short, rolled sleeves turned up to
my slim shoulders, with the midriff knotted off to show my tummy. A
scarf was knotted round my neck, making me look like a cowgirl. I wore
old but clean tennis shoes. Rose gave me a cowboy hat to make me feel
special.
Polly wore cutoffs like mine. Her bottomcheeks peeked out the
bottom of her shorts, jiggling as she walked ahead of me. Her shorts were
already wedged in her ass. She wore no panties. She seemed not to mind.
I think she liked the feeling of her shorts pressing tightly to her. SheÕd
not been fucked. Perhaps she hoped the shorts would allay her desire a
little. SheÕd not been as fortunate as I in the matter of a shirt. Hers was
simply cut off at the midriff-point. There was too little of it to tie. And
her shirt was sleeveless. You could look within the big armholes cut in
the side of it and see her breasts looming within, the pert undercurves of
her breasts. Distinctly her nipples stood out from her shirt, lifting it.
The material was thin and if it had not been dyed yellow I think I might
have seen right through it. There was a faded beer can imprinted on the
front of her shirt. The bottom of the can was missing, as was the portion
of the shirt on which it had once been imprinted.
Polly tugged worryingly at the hem of her shirt. ÒI need something
better than this if IÕm to go dancing,Ó she proclaimed. Rose swatted her
jean-clad bottom.
ÒYou have a cute bellybutton, and nice tits,Ó Rose answered. ÒDonÕt
be so shy, dear. ItÕs after midnight. There will only be other girls like
there, like you, a little older perhaps, and guys.Ó
ÒThatÕs what I mean!Ó Polly protested. ÒCanÕt I have your shirt?Ó
ÒNo, dear, youÕre the youngest. YouÕre the only one who can fit into
that shirt. My boobs are much bigger than yours, and FleuryÕs are bigger,
too,Ó Rose answered her. ÒNow be good and donÕt complain. I did the best I
could for you.Ó
ÒOh, when will I have boobies as big as FlurriesÕ?Ó Polly whined. Her
face pouted.
ÒYours arenÕt that much smaller,Ó I assured her.
ÒThen let me have YOUR shirt!Ó Polly begged.
ÒJust donÕt bend too far over,Ó I laughed. Sulkily she ceased her
complaining, knowing she was stuck with what she had. Rose took us
through the house and out the front. A limo waited. We slipped within and
Rose told the driver to take us into town.
I looked over at Rose as we settled into the carÕs back seat. Despite
her hastily-chosen attire, she looked like a million dollars, as usual. Her
hair had been quickly repinned atop her head. SheÕd touched up her makeup,
using a kit in the laundry room and staring with brief but effective
intensity into a cracked mirror next to the dryer. A peasant blouse bared
her tanned shoulders and absorbed the fullness of her breasts. She wore
no bra beneath it. Her nipples tweaked the light material and lifted it in
tiny twin peaks. The blouse hugged her ribs, leaving her belly bare,
showing how smooth and soft it was, how invitingly it offered itself to
men who dreamed of being fathers.
Riding low on her hips Rose wore a leather miniskirt. She had no
undies underneath. It was all that separated her from the hands of would-
be lovers. She had it tucked beneath her now, it barely cleared her bottom.
Her long thighs shone whitely in the moonlight that bathed the limoÕs
cabin. Rose had her window down to let in the night air. Inside, a heater
hummed to keep us warm. Pee wee boots with rowelled spurs fitted
themselves to RoseÕs feet. Like us, she wore a scarf, though only Polly
and I had cowboy hats. In compensation, perhaps, Rose wore leather
gloves with beaded Indian designs upon her hands.
Rose lowered a mirror, flicked on a light, and checked her makeup
again. She had a purse with her, unlike Polly and I, and she opened it and
drew out a tube of lipstick. She did her own, then passed it to Polly.
Sitting between us, Polly had discovered a small hairdrier tucked into the
limo and had put it to use on her hair. I kept my hat on. I hoped sheÕd
finish soon. I did not want to ride around with wet hair, though I was
farthest from RoseÕs open window. Rose herself had dried her hair with a
blowdrier in the laundry room, but ushered us out to the car before Polly
and I could make use of it.
Rose passed a hairbrush to Polly. ÒComb out your hair, we must look
our very best,Ó she told the girl. ÒThen let Flurry do her hair too.Ó
ÒOkay,Ó Polly replied. She was happy now. Absorbed in herself, she
brushed her long locks. Rose passed me her makeup kit and told me there
was a mirror pinned to the ceiling above my head. I drew it down. It hung
by a hinge from the interior roof. I flicked on its light.
ÒNot too much,Ó Rose warned me. ÒI donÕt want you to look older
than you are. That would spoil the fun.Ó I looked at her, saw her smiling,
but decided to heed her advice. Young girls with too much makeup on
didnÕt look mature, they just looked silly. I pushed back my cowboy hat.
Carefully I traced my lips with the lipstick. Rose passed me eyeshadow
and I brushed out my lashes. I applied some rogue to my cheeks. Then
Rose managed to part Polly from her blowdrier and I took off my hat and
did my hair.
30
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