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

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

                                  Andrew Roller Presents
                              NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
                                                 in 
                                        HONEY HAVEN

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

                                         Chapter Two
         
         It was with some trepidation the next morning that I got dressed.  I 
was, after all, getting dressed only to get undressed again, quite soon.  We 
were due at the photographerÕs at nine.  I put on a pair of white panties, 
printed with tiny daisies, and felt awkward knowing that others would 
soon be seeing me take them off.  And not just my fellow females in the 
cabana at the beach.  Not today.  Steve and Dave and Mark would be there.  
Perhaps the photographer would even photograph me taking them off.  That 
thought sent a shiver up my spine.  I still didnÕt know her name.  I hoped 
she would introduce herself to me before she asked me to strip for her.
         I looked at my bed.  A silver tray lay upon it.  A maid had brought me 
breakfast in bed.  SheÕd said it was compliments of Heloise, that she was 
trying ever harder to pamper us models.  Unfortunately IÕd barely touched 
my food.  My bacon and eggs were pristine, a waste of two chicks and part 
of a hog.  My coffee was undrunk.  It sat well-cooled now, in its china cup.  
Beside the cup of coffee lay a barely-nibbled croissant.  I was too nervous 
to eat.  Perhaps teddy, sitting next to my tray, would eat my breakfast for 
me. 
         I put on a conservative white bra.  Then I donned a blouse, which I 
carefully buttoned up.  It had long sleeves and a high collar.  Finally I 
zipped myself into a miniskirt and slipped on modestly high heels.  I tied 
my hair back in a ponytail and looked at myself in a mirror.  Yes, I looked 
great.  Then I remembered I didnÕt have any birth control.  IÕd never needed 
it before.  Would I need it today?  I wasnÕt sure.  Perhaps not.  Perhaps we 
would just be nude, and pretend.  Yes, I told myself.  She was a female 
photographer, wasnÕt she?  She wouldnÕt ask more than that.
         Katrina and Angela met me in the hall.  Katrina smiled, blushed a 
little.  Angela put a slim arm around my waist and tossed back her long 
red hair.
         ÒCome along, Lolita, you look terrific,Ó Angela said in her Russian-
accented voice.  I felt like I was in the grip of a bear, despite her slim 
figure.  Yet I allowed her to walk me downstairs.  There the men greeted 
us.  They looked as great as we did.  They wore polo shirts, with slacks, 
except Steve wore shorts.  I couldnÕt help admiring his stocky, hairy legs 
with my eyes.  He saw my interest and grinned.  I blushed.  His eyes fell to 
my breasts.  I turned away, hoping to deny him a view of them.  I gazed 
about the large room we were standing in.  I heard nothing but silence in 
the house.  I realized the house was empty of models, except for us.  The 
rest of them were already at the beach, working hard.  Heloise appeared in 
a doorway.  She smiled at us.  She didnÕt say anything.  I flushed quite red, 
realizing she knew where we were going.  
         I heard a car pull up outside.
         ÒCome on,Ó Angela said.  She reached for my hand and took it.  I 
resisted a little, then let her lead me outside.  It was a bright, sunny day.  
Yet IÕd be posing indoors.  I felt a momentary relief at that.  The sun was 
already hot.  Then I remembered IÕd be nude, in a bedroom, with three horny 
guys, and felt a wave of intense embarrassment.
         Our conversation in the car was pleasantly free of innuendo.  YouÕd 
think, with three expectant guys, weÕd be hearing sex jokes all the way.  
At least, I would have thought so.  But Steve and Dave and Mark were men, 
not boys at Teddy Bear High.  So instead they talked about soccer, or 
pointed out sights to us girls.  Angela had been to Italy before and she 
pointed to a monument along the road as we passed it.
         ÒWhatÕs that?Ó I asked.
         ÒAn old road marker, left by the Romans,Ó she said.
         ÒI want to see the Leaning Tower of Pizza,Ó I said.  ÒDo you think we 
could go there for lunch?  I like Pizzas.Ó
         Angela laughed.
         ÒThatÕs Piza, dearest, not Pizza,Ó Angela said.  ÒAnd no, they donÕt 
serve Pizzas there.  But IÕm sure Svetlana will feed us something.Ó
         ÒWhoÕs that?Ó I asked.
         ÒThe photographer, silly,Ó Katrina said.  We three girls were sitting 
in front and the men in back.  I was wedged between both Katrina and 
Angela, Angela next to the window and Katrina next to the driver.
         ÒOh,Ó I said, looking down at my hands.  ÒWell, I donÕt know 
everything.Ó
         ÒYou know enough to say ÔyesÕ when youÕre asked, and thatÕs all you 
need to know,Ó Angela said pleasantly.  She took my hand and squeezed it.  
I looked up at her.  I felt comforted by her touch.  I had an odd wish for her 
to keep holding my hand, right on through the rest of the day.  
         We pulled up in front of an old brownstone within the outskirts of 
Vienna.  The driver helped us girls out.  The men got out themselves.  Dave 
walked to up to the door of the house and knocked on it.  Large trees 
shaded us as we waited for the door to be answered.  Across the street 
there was a park.  I could hear children playing in it.
         A maid answered the door.  She was middle-aged.  She wore a 
traditional white apron and hat, plus a black pleated skirt.  She bade us 
enter.  The men let us girls go first.  Behind us, the car pulled away.
         The house was well appointed inside, but we were given no time to 
admire its furnishings.  The maid escorted us up a long narrow staircase.  
At the top there was a hall, and we were taken down it and through a 
doorway.  I found myself standing in a large, well-lit bedroom.  The bed, to 
my astonishment, had red satin sheets.  Its headboard and baseboard were 
made of dark, rich mahogany.  Beside the bed, on a table, there was an 
ancient china water pitcher.  But I saw no glasses.  Perhaps the pitcher 
was for washing.  Under the table that held the pitcher I saw a chamber 
pot.  I hoped it was empty.
         ÒAh, you must be Katrina,Ó a female voice said to me.  I turned, saw 
a woman standing near a camera.  She wore a loose skirt with a tight 
bodice.  It accented her breasts, which were of a considerable size.  
Jewelry adorned her wrists, which were small, and a necklace gleamed 
round her white, swan-like throat.  She had long brown hair piled casually 
atop her head.  Beside her were two women assistants, more casually 
dressed, one in a t-shirt and shorts and the other in jeans and a very light, 
pullover sweater. 
         ÒNo, IÕm Cindy,Ó I said.
         ÒFine,Ó the woman, whom I guessed was Svetlana, replied.  ÒPlease 
undress so we can do your makeup.Ó
         I realized, suddenly, that more than my face would be made up today.  
Every part of me would have to be examined and made perfect.  After all, 
nothing would be hidden from the camera.  Feeling queasy in my stomach, 
with the men and Angela and Katrina behind me now, and the photographer 
and her crew before me, I began to unbutton my blouse.
         There were sounds of undressing behind me.  Svetlana used the time 
to ask each of our names, which an assistant wrote down on a pad for her, 
so sheÕd remember them.  It took me a little while to undress and Katrina 
actually finished before me.  She headed over to the makeup person and sat 
down in a canvas chair for her makeup.  
         I looked around.  I nearly lost my ability to breathe when I saw the 
men.  At the beach, their cocks had been encased in swimsuits.  I could 
only see an outline of them.  Now, however, in the bedroom, the men stood 
naked and free of their clothes.  From each of their loins a long, banana-
like cock stood erect, arching expectantly up in the air.  Underneath a full 
sack of sperm hung.  I shivered.  Angela took my hand.  
         ÒItÕs quite a sight, isnÕt it?Ó she teased me.
         ÒI-- Yes, it is,Ó I said.  Steve grinned at me.  I blushed and turned 
away.
         ÒYouÕre next,Ó a female voice called out.  We all turned.  The girl in 
the sweater and jeans was busy combing the tight curls of KatrinaÕs pubis, 
but already she was motioning for Dave to present himself.  He did, 
walking grandly across the room with his big organ sticking out in front of 
him.  She took the comb from KatrinaÕs nest and began working it over 
DaveÕs more luxuriant growth.  Carefully she avoided touching his ramrod 
hard cock.  
         ÒAh, what a fine member,Ó Svetlana said.  She picked up a portable 
camera and bent over DaveÕs loins and snapped a picture of him.  Dave 
grinned, loving the attention.
         My turn came next.  I was seated in the same chair that Katrina had 
been in.  The canvas seat felt warm from her bottom.  The makeup person, 
whose name was Dielle, powdered my face and my breasts.  She touched up 
my lipstick, did my eyelashes.  She stenciled my eyelashes.  She applied a 
very light, pink coating of rouge to my nipples that matched their color.  
The tips of my nipples, already excited, rose under her touch.  I felt my 
nest wetten.  She was down there a moment later, carefully combing my 
private curls.  
         ÒOh, youÕre wet already,Ó Dielle said.  I blushed fiercely. 
         Svetlana told Dave and Katrina to get on the bed.  ÒWeÕll start with 
some natural poses first, then move on to more complicated work,Ó 
Svetlana told them.  I watched them both knee their way onto the bed.  It 
was a big, sumptous bed, perfect for lovers.  Its red satin sheets glowed 
under the studio lights.  Unfortunately KatrinaÕs favorite of the three men 
was Mark, not Dave.  She turned and looked at Svetlana.
         ÒCould I pose with Dave?Ó she asked.
         ÒNo, darling,Ó Svetlana replied.  ÒYouÕll all pose with each other 
before the dayÕs through.  DonÕt worry about it.Ó
         ÒOkay,Ó Katrina answered.  She looked up at Dave.  She was more 
than a head shorter than he, for he was a full grown man, the oldest of the 
three males.  Her brown hair bobbed neatly about her shoulders.  It had 
been glossed to perfection by the makeup girlÕs hairbrush.
         ÒPlease face each other.  Lean in to each other, as if youÕre about to 
kiss,Ó Svetlana ordered.  ÒYes, good.  DonÕt be afraid of him, dear.  HeÕs 
only a man,Ó she told Katrina.
         ÒIÕm not afraid of him.  ItÕs just that heÕs so big,Ó Katrina said.  She 
looked at DaveÕs large penis and, after a moment, placed her finger upon 
its crown.  She tried to push him back from her.
         ÒDarling, in the old days we were not allowed to show penises, and 
mission number one would have been to jerk all the men off, in hopes of 
hiding their equipment from the camera,Ó Svetlana said.  ÒBut things are 
different now.  Enjoy his penis.  Let it press up against your belly.  DonÕt 
be bothered by it, for heavenÕs sake.  You do like boys, donÕt you?Ó
         ÒYes,Ó Katrina admitted.  She let Dave enclasp her waist and draw 
her close to his hairy body.  She flinched, feeling his cock press up hard 
against her.  I saw a flash, heard a click.
         ÒKiss,Ó Svetlana commanded.  Dave lifted KatrinaÕs chin.  She closed 
her eyes.  He pecked a kiss on her lips.  She opened her lips a little and let 
him kiss them again.  Suddenly, their mouths meshed.  More flashes, more 
clicks.  Angela gave a small, polite clap for their performance.
         ÒNow you,Ó Svetlana told me.  ÒUp on the bed.Ó  Dave and Katrina 
were still deeply engaged in a kiss.
         ÒHuh?Ó I said.  ÒThereÕs already two of them there.Ó
         ÒWeÕre not confining ourselves to conservative shots, dear,Ó 
Svetlana said.  ÒDo you think this is the 1890Õs?  Get up on the bed with 
them.Ó
         I rose from the comfort of my canvas chair.  Katrina was still 
kissing Dave, so I cast an anxious glance at Angela.  But she was no help at 
all.  She merely smiled, nodded.  I guess she approved of me playing with 
her boyfriend.  Suddenly I wondered if I should ask for birth control.  After 
all, Dave wasnÕt wearing a condom.  And couldnÕt, either, for the point of 
photographing him in the buff was to be able to to snap pictures of, among 
other things, his cock.  But I felt guilty, asking, for it would mean we 
were to have sex.  I still hoped we wouldnÕt actually do it.  So I kept quiet.  
I felt my breasts bobbing nakedly on my chest as I crossed the room.  
Dielle had slipped heels on my feet.  They made me taller, elevating my 
bottom.  I could feel it rolling with an alluring sway behind me.  All could 
be seen, even the crease between my cheeks.  Absently I put my hands 
behind me, to hide myself.  
         ÒNo!  Show your bottom,Ó Svetlana barked.  My hands flitted away.  I 
saw a flash behind me, heard a click.  I felt my tummy swimming with 
butterflies and was glad I hadnÕt filled it with a breakfast it couldnÕt have 
kept down.  I patted my belly, trying to quell my nervousness.  It was flat, 
smooth, even a little withdrawn.  I had an innie navel.  I explored it briefly 
with my finger.
         I drew close to the bed.  My knees banged against the side of it.  
Dave, kneeling up upon the bed, turned to me.  Gallantly he passed an arm 
behind my back.  I felt frail, captured by his big hairy arm.  Katrina 
reached down from her perch on the bed.  Bending a little, she freely 
clasped the nearest cheek of my bottom.  I flinched.  I felt her hand 
exploring my bottom and lifted a hand to her face to try to push her away.  
I tried drawing back from them.  DaveÕs arm kept me close.  I pushed at 
KatrinaÕs face with my hand.  She opened her lips.  One of my fingers 
stabbed into her mouth and, closing her eyes, she sucked gently upon it.
         Flash.  click.  
         I was undone.  I was frozen forever on film, in a pose not entirely 
becoming to my virginity.  Whose eyes would see me when the pictures 
were developed?  I tried not to think about it.  
         I couldnÕt free myself.  DaveÕs big arm prevented me from drawing 
back from the bed.  Katrina, handling my bottom, had me captured by one 
finger.  I relented.  I let Dave pull me up between them, onto the bedÕs 
satin sheets.  My finger slipped from KatrinaÕs mouth.  She smiled at me.  
She pecked a kiss onto the side of my face.  Then, more rudely, still 
palming my seat, her hand sought between the cheeks of my bottom.
         How erotic we must have looked!  Our tan lines showed, where weÕd 
worn our swimsuits at the beach, but we were free of them now, 
displaying the complete nudity of our bodies to whomever might purchase 
our photos.  We kissed, all three of us, nuzzling each otherÕs lips.  To get 
revenge on Katrina, I placed a hand on her bottom, though I wasnÕt so 
indiscreet as to wedge my fingertips between her bottomhalves.
         The flashbulbs flashed repeatedly.  I heard the click of the camera.  
         We parted, slowly, unsure what to do next.  We remained kneeling on 
the bed.  I gave a quick lick across DaveÕs hairy chest, then pulled back.  
Katrina kissed him again, on the chin, too short to kiss his lips unless he 
bent his face down to her.  Dave looked over at Svetlana for direction.  He 
was hard, pulsing.  Katrina and I looked at his big organ and imagined he 
must be ready to spend.  Oh, too soon!  DonÕt let him!  I heard myself cry, 
inside my head.  Katrina must have thought the same thing for we both 
laughed, suddenly, looking at his big manhood.  Our breasts shook, 
attracting his eyes back to us.  Suddenly, perhaps impulsively, perhaps at 
a signal from Svetlana, he lifted a hand between each of our legs.  We 
were kneeling with our legs immodestly open, not even really aware of it, 
until SteveÕs big hand slid up to the apex of our thighs.
         ÒOh!Ó I gasped.  With a single finger Dave began sliding his hand back 
and forth against the lips of my pussy.  His finger was stiff.  I was soft 
and open against him.  Too open.  I drew my legs together but heard 
Svetlana order me to keep them apart.
         ÒAh!Ó Katrina protested.  Dave had one finger underneath her as well, 
sliding it back and forth under her lips.  I felt myself wetten upon his 
digit.  I looked down at his hand, heard Katrina murmur something beside 
me.
         We reached for his cock.  He did not mind us handling it.  Our fingers 
were small upon his big member.  I could feel it throbbing in my grasp.  
Would he spend?  I didnÕt know.  He kept up the fingering of our nests.  I let 
my head fling back.  I breahted a fevered sigh.  Beside me, Katrina did the 
same.  More flashes, more camera clicks.  
         ÒVery good,Ó I heard Svetlana say somewhere behind me.  
ÒSpontaneous, without being disobedient to my direction.  I think weÕll get 
along swimmingly.  Come down off the bed, you three love birds.  What do 
you think youÕre doing this for, pleasure?Ó
         Reluctantly Dave withdrew his hands.  I felt deprived with him gone 
from between my legs.  I wanted him back.  I tugged on his dick.  Angela 
appeared.  She disengaged Katrina and I from her loverÕs penis.
         ÒThatÕs enough, girls,Ó Angela said.  ÒWait for your next pose now.  
Would you like some refreshments?Ó
         ÒI want--Ó Katrina said dizzily.  I knew what she wanted.  The same 
as I.  To continue in our wicked games.  But we were models, not lovers.  
With a somewhat palsied movement I slipped down from the bed.  How 
strange, to leave it just when we were all so ready!  I blushed.  A camera 
caught my blush, my wobbly knees, my aimlessly flitting hands, wishing to 
grab onto something that was not mine.  Behind me Dave helped Katrina 
down from the bed.  His cock jutted at my seat.  It stood up rigid beside 
Katrina, pointing at the ceiling.  She reached for him.  Angela slapped her 
hand away.
         Steven and Mark, I saw, through my passion-bleared vision, were 
still both hard and erect.  Steven was sitting in the makeup chair, getting 
his pubic hair combed.  Mark was standing beside him.  The assistant in 
shorts and a t-shirt, whose name I still didnÕt know, was handing him a 
glass.  It contained ice water.  ÒDrink it down,Ó she said to him, smiling.  
ÒSvetlana will want some photos of your gorgeous cock peeing it out.Ó
         Mark nodded, smiled.  He drank down the glass.  The assistant had set 
up a big pitcher of ice water on a folding table.  It wasnÕt the one by the 
bed, which I guessed was for washing, but another, fetched perhaps from 
the downstairs kitchen while we were on the bed kissing.
         ÒYou too, hun,Ó the assistant said to Dave as he approached her.
         ÒCan I have a drink?Ó Katrina asked.
         ÒOnly if you donÕt mind having pictures taken of yourself peeing,Ó 
the assistant replied.  She smiled.  She poured Katrina a glass.  I asked for 
one too.
         Six females and three males.  In one bedroom.  We made quite a 
group.  Three of the females were clothed, not models, but their features 
were not displeasing.  I saw my favorite of the men, Steven, gazing 
appreciatively at the rondeur of the pink sweatered makeup girlÕs bosoms 
as she bent over him to dust a light powder onto his cock.
         ÒWhatÕs that for?Ó Steven asked.
         ÒIt will make you horny as hell,Ó the petite makeup girl told him 
frankly.  
         ÒI already am,Ó Steve replied.  He nuzzled the curve of her sweatered 
bosom as she stood.  She ignored him.  
         ÒItÕs talcum powder mixed with a small dose of chili powder,Ó Dielle 
said.  ÒYou may be horny, but not like youÕll be in a minute.  YouÕll have a 
desperate need to rub yourself, but youÕll be prevented from doing it.  The 
photos should be breathtaking.Ó
         ÒMen, letÕs get you both handcuffed to the bed,Ó Svetlana said.  
ÒSteven?  Mark?  Over here, boys.Ó
         ÒAch.  I can feel it already,Ó Steven announced.  
         ÒYou shouldnÕt powder their penises until IÕve got them cuffed,Ó 
Svetlana told Dielle.
         ÒOh, IÕm sorry,Ó Dielle replied.  ÒI didnÕt know.Ó  I realized she must 
be new to erotic photography makeup.
         ÒOver here, boys,Ó Svetlana said.  She pointed to the foot of the bed, 
where two towering mahagony bedposts stood.  ÒConstance, get the cuffs,Ó 
she said to the girl in shorts and a t-shirt.  
         I watched as Constance went to a wooden dresser next to the bed.  
She opened a drawer and took out two pairs of metal police handcuffs.  She 
walked to the foot of the bed, where she stood expectantly, waiting for 
the men.  Her hair was drawn into twin, efficient pigtails.  I saw she wore 
no bra.  Her nipples rose into her shirt as she watched the men approach.
         ÒUh, my dick is feeling hot,Ó Steve complained.  
         ÒPut your back to the post, please.  Wrists behind you,Ó Constance 
told him.  Steve obeyed.  He gave me a quick glance from across the room.  
I frowned.  Now he liked me, and sought me out, though a moment ago he 
only had eyes for the pink-sweatered makeup girl.  I felt a bit of 
vengeance in me.  I watched with satisfaction as he was cuffed to the 
bedpost.  It looked very strong.  There were marks on it, as if other young 
men had been cuffed there before him.
         Constance moved quickly to Mark.  Dielle crossed the room with her 
makeup kit, in order to powder his dick.  Svetlana adjusted her camera to 
capture the scene that was about to unfold.
         Without realizing it, I began frigging myself.
         ÒDonÕt,Ó Angela said.  She slapped my wrist.  I drew my hand from 
between my legs.  She moved to Katrina, who was dipping a finger in her 
water glass and rubbing it across her slit, trying to cool herself.
         ÒDonÕt masturbate,Ó Angela said.  She clasped KatrinaÕs small wrist 
and pulled her finger from her dell.
         ÒIÕm only trying to chill out a little,Ó Katrina replied.
         ÒI know,Ó Angela said.  ÒGo to the dresser and fetch a pair of 
handcuffs for yourself and Cindy.  IÕll help you stay good by cuffing your 
hands behind you where they canÕt get you in trouble.Ó
         ÒOhhh, I donÕt want to,Ó Katrina said.  But, tossing her long shoulder-
length locks back from her face, she crossed the room.  She opened the 
dresser and poked around.  ÒThere sure are a lot of condoms in here!Ó she 
announced.
         ÒI do a lot of sexual photography here,Ó Svetlana told her, aiming her 
camera at the men.  ÒWeÕll use those later.Ó  Katrina sighed.  She drew a 
pair of handcuffs out of the drawer.  Then another, for me.  
         ÒI donÕt want any cuffs,Ó I told Angela.
         ÒAnd I donÕt want you cumming before your time,Ó Angela replied.  
ÒThough you might do it as often as you please, itÕs important to keep you 
tense for the early photos.  It makes them sexier.Ó
         ÒHave you done this before?Ó I asked her.
         ÒNo, dear.  Of course not,Ó Angela replied.  ÒThis is just a lark.  
WeÕre really professional models, you know.  Not erotic ones.  But I talked 
with Svetlana about it a lot on the phone.  HereÕs the cuffs.  Thank you, 
Katrina.  Turn around, Cindy.  DonÕt make it difficult for me.Ó
         I turned.  I showed her my bottom.  I put my wrists behind me, 
presenting them to her.  In the distance I heard Steven (or was it Mark?) 
groan with pent-up emotion.  I wondered how much difference there was 
between us, and them.  They had big pricks and we had holes instead, but 
we both seemed to need each other quite badly at the moment.
         I felt the steel of the handcuffs press against my wrists.  They 
snapped shut.  First one, then the other.  Angela breathed on my neck.  She 
bent, licked my ear, as if to reinforce my new subservience to her.  I could 
do nothing but flinch.  I felt my teats quivering before me, all stiff and 
hard, heavy for my age.  ÒStand with your legs open,Ó Angela told me.  ÒYou 
have only a small slit.  Do not hide it from the menÕs view by pressing your 
thighs closed.  Let them see it at least, though they cannot touch you.Ó
         I obeyed.  Somehow, dispite my misgivings, I liked obeying.  I had 
only to do as she told me.  She would handle the rest.  
         Angela turned me, so I faced directly at the men.  She reminded me 
to part my thighs.  Then she moved to Katrina.  My friend was as 
submissive as I.  DaveÕs hands between our legs had made us exquisitely 
feminine.  Now he stood near us, drinking, so he could pee in SvetlanaÕs 
photographs.  I glanced at him.  He smiled.
         ÒGive me a drink,Ó I said.  He approached, put his glass to my lips.  I 
drank greedily at the water, wanting what he offered lower down instead, 
but accepting the water in lieu of it.
         ÒHave you ever been whipped?Ó Dave asked me.  My eyes bulged.  I 
spluttered in his glass.  He withdrew it.  Water dribbled from my lips 
down my chin.  It fell in droplets onto my breasts.  They were promient, 
sticking out in front of me like twin shapely gourds, forced forward by my 
posture in the cuffs.
         ÒNo,Ó I told him, wide-eyed.
         ÒPerhaps we can convince Svetlana to take some photos of it, then,Ó 
he smiled.  
         ÒI donÕt want to be,Ó I told him frankly.  He pressed a finger to my 
belly.  He touched my navel hole.
         ÒNo girl wants to be, especially her first time,Ó Steve assured me.  
ÒBut there is a certain pleasure in it, youÕll find, being all hot-bottomed, 
wiggling your ass.Ó
         ÒBut who would do it?Ó I asked.
         ÒPerhaps me,Ó Dave replied.  His fingers played lower across my 
belly and grazed the top of my pubic thatch.  I wondered at my being bound, 
if he was going to frig me instead.  ÒDonÕt worry, IÕve done it before,Ó he 
told me.  ÒI know how to apply the strokes properly.  Especially on a 
newbie.Ó
         ÒYouÕve whipped other girls?Ó I asked.
         ÒA few,Ó he said.  I didnÕt know if he was lying or telling the truth.  
About the number, that is.  About his experience, I had no doubt.  He was at 
least twice my age.  He fondled my nest and let his fingers wander 
dangerously close to my slit.
         ÒAre you going to do it then, for her?Ó Angela scolded Dave.  He 
didnÕt catch her meaning.  
         ÒIf Svetlana lets me,Ó he answered.  He looked up from gazing at my 
pussy.  ÒOh, you mean frig her.  Perhaps I will, hmmm?  Just a little.Ó
         ÒEh!Ó I gasped suddenly.  It was an immodest cry, to be sure, belted 
straight up from my tummy, but I couldnÕt help it.  Dave had just stuck his 
finger into my snatch.  Not far, just knuckle deep, but it was the first ever 
to enter me.  Casually his thumb searched in the folds of my labial lips for 
my clit.
         ÒDonÕt!Ó I implored him.  I gazed beseechingly in his eyes.  I searched 
for what, I wasnÕt sure.  ÒIÕm a virgin.Ó
         ÒWhat?Ó Dave asked.  He sounded like a man whoÕd been shot.
         ÒAh, I knew it,Ó Angela said.  ÒNow all three of them will want her.  
So much for eroticism.  SheÕs never even been opened!Ó  She turned from 
me, from Dave.  For his part, Dave suddenly became much more attentive.
         ÒReally?Ó he asked.  He made me gasp, and lurch forward, as he 
intruded deeper in me, searching with his finger.
         ÒDonÕt!Ó I pleaded.  ÒYou wonÕt find anything.  I lost it on a horse.Ó
         He entered me more, more, jamming his finger up inside me.  But 
with his other hand he stroked my long blonde hair.  My ponytail swished 
across my back and fell off it, dangling below my face.  
         ÒNo, I feel something,Ó Dave told me.  ÒYour hymenÕs torn, but not 
gone.Ó  I felt his big finger in me and tried clamping my thighs, but he 
easily took hold of one of my legs and pulled them apart.  I was just a girl, 
just 14, no match for him.  ÒYouÕll need to have this removed,Ó Dave told 
me.  ÒNot a problem, really.  IÕm amply equipped to take it from you.Ó  
Bending under his searching, intruding finger, I gazed at his penis.  It was 
big, hard.  Clear fluid dripped languidly from its tip.
         ÒWill we have some honeymoon photos today then, hmmm?Ó I heard 
Svetlana say.  Angela was telling her about my Ôproblem.Õ
         Dave used my resistance to his advantage.  He bent me further.  He 
reached behind me.  He palmed my ass.  ÒHow about your bottom?Ó he 
asked, feeling my cheeks.  ÒHave you been giving it away in back, to save 
yourself in front?Ó  
         ÒNoooo,Ó I bleated.  I felt his hand part my cheeks and a finger probe 
against the rubbery ring of my anus.  ÒIÕm virgin ALL OVER!Ó I shouted, but 
it was too late.  HeÕd already stabbed at me.  My ring gave way and I felt 
his finger within my puckered hole, up to the first knuckle.
         ÒGod, youÕre tight.  Quit squeezing your ass.  I told you to keep 
yourself open, girl!Ó Dave reproved me.  I heard a whip crack in the 
distance.  I gasped, thinking somehow it was me, but then realized it was 
one of the boys.  Mark?  Steven?  I couldnÕt tell.  I didnÕt know that much 
about them, yet.  But it wasnÕt Dave, for he kept me bent over, a finger up 
my twat and another exploring my asshole.
         ÒDo you want her, hmmm, boys?  My, how you struggle against those 
posts!  Keep jabbing at me with your cocks, yes!  How helpless you look.  
Thrust at the camera, boys!Ó I heard Svetlana say.  ÒDonÕt worry about 
Angela and her penis whip.Ó
         CRACK!  Again the whip.  Again a scream, but it wasnÕt me.  It was 
one of the poor boys, chili powder burning his dick and a whip cracking 
across it to make it hurt even worse.  I hoped Angela wasnÕt being too hard 
on them.  They had fine penises, and I was soft on Steven.  But at the 
moment, bent over by Dave, I couldnÕt do anything but listen.  I wriggled 
against my captor.  Dave laughed.  He drew his finger from my ass and 
pulled out of my twat.  
         ÒThere, stand up,Ó Dave said.  ÒA virgin, by God!  In all your private 
places and with an unwhipped bottom, too!  IÕm going to have fun with 
you!Ó
         I shivered in his grasp.  I didnÕt think I wanted any part of his fun.  
But he jabbed at my belly with his penis, smearing his pre-cum across my 
smooth, tanned flesh, as if it were his right to.  His absolute right.  Well, 
he was the biggest and the oldest male in the room.  But I was the littlest 
female.  Surely he had no right to claim dibs on me.  I was too young for 
him!
         ÒAh, Dave,Ó Svetlana said.  She left her camera and walked across 
the room.  Her step was light, yet confident.  She placed a hand upon his 
bare back.  It glided lower, it palmed his manly seat in open admiration.  
Then, suddenly, her tanned palm gripped one of his small white buns.  With 
the bulging fullness of his asscheek pillowing in her hand, she forcibly 
turned him.  He was a large man, and she was smaller, and frail of figure, 
yet her grip was sufficient to get his attention and to force him to obey.
         ÒUgh, what do you want?Ó Dave asked irritably as he was brought 
about to face Svetlana.  She paused.  His penis jutted at her.  Her hand had 
slipped from his seat and now she passed an admiring fingertip along the 
big veined length of his shaft.  I shivered, watching.  My dell was safe for 
the moment, though it felt wet between my legs.  His attention, though 
unwanted, had caused it to honey itself.  I wondered whose side my body 
was on.
         ÒDave, you are here to work, not to play,Ó Svetlana told my attacker.  
Possessively she clasped his organ, right behind the bulbing cockhead, 
where the penis briefly narrows.  She ringed the area with her thumb and 
forefinger, not able to completely close upon it, he was so big, but taking 
possession of him all the same.  Then she looked over her shoulder at 
Steve and Mark, suffering under AngelÕs lashing whip.  ÒI think IÕm finished 
with them,Ó she said to Angel.  She tossed her head.  Her pinned up hair had 
lost several strands.  They dangled down in her face.  Failing to get them 
out of her eyes with her headÕs movement, she reluctantly lifted a hand 
and brushed them back behind her ears with her fingers.  ÒPlease jerk 
them off, so they wonÕt be desperate and uncontrollable when you undo 
their handcuffs.  Then you may unlock them and dismiss them.Ó
         ÒWhat?!Ó Steven, my favorite, blurted.  He had endured the chili 
powder, and the penis whip, only, it seemed, to be summarily sent home.  
Mark looked equally vexed.
         ÒOh, did you boys think you came here for free sex?Ó Svetlana asked.  
As she spoke, she stroked DaveÕs big penis with her fingertip, as if to 
soothe him and keep him obedient.  He was, after all, not cuffed, as Dave 
and Mark were.  With her other hand she ringed his cock.  Her thumb and 
forefinger, holding him, had the appearance of some sort of erotic leash.  
Miraculously, Dave stood still, soothed and held, though heÕd been about to 
rape me just minutes earlier.  ÒNo, boys, sorry.  I call the shots here.Ó  She 
laughed, for indeed she did, both photographically and otherwise.  
ÒConstance, man the camera,Ó she told the young woman with the pigtails.  
ÒI want to record their agony as theyÕre forced to spend.Ó
         ÒWhat?!Ó Mark yelled.  He was almost apoplectic now.  He strained at 
his bonds.  His beautiful chest muscles bulged, showing themselves in 
straining detail, yet the police handcuffs held.
         ÒDarling, itÕs *erotic* photography, remember?Ó Svetlana said.  
ÒThis is all about peopleÕs sexual organs, and how they respond under the 
stress of erotic play.  You act as if AngelaÕs going to dismember you.  
Semen must be jettisoned every few days by the male.  You know that.  
Surrender your seed to her and quit complaining.  YouÕre like a Doritos 
factory, arenÕt you?  YouÕll make more.  IÕm quite sure of it.Ó
         ÒYes, but--Ó Mark stammered.  
         ÒThatÕs what I wish to capture, dear,Ó Svetlana told him, still 
pleasantly stroking DaveÕs penis, keeping him tense but (at least partly) 
satisfied.  ÒI donÕt do bullshit erotic photography, sorry.  I want to see you 
frustrated, tense, and yes, remorseful as your sperm is forced from your 
body.  Then itÕs home for you, while these girls remain here, in my house, 
wet and hungry for your love.Ó  She laughed.  Her breasts shook with her 
laughter.  ÒHow pretty theyÕll look, so sweetly desperate for male 
attention, but with none but Dave here to service them, and only if I let 
him.Ó
         I squirmed in my bonds.  I did not like the thought of myself being 
seen in such a state.  Made up, my hair perfect, yet shivering with sinful 
desire!  Katrina walked away.  Svetlana looked over her shoulder, watched 
as the girl walked, with firm, defiant steps, toward the bedroom door.  Her 
white bottom wiggled behind her.  It looked like a rabbitÕs tail, perched 
between her tanned back and legs.  I glanced at Angela.  She still held the 
penis whip in her hand.  It looked small but hurtful.  I wondered if it might 
not be used on our bottoms, and stayed standing where I was.
         ÒKatrina, dear.  Where are you going?Ó Svetlana asked.  Her voice 
was soft, melodious.  But it had a note of motherly displeasure in it.  
         ÒIÕm leaving!Ó Katrina said.  She didnÕt bother to turn around.  She 
spoke to the bedroom door, which she was now facing.  It was closed.  She 
looked at it, wriggled her arms.  They were cuffed behind her and she had 
no way of opening it without the use of her hands.  Or so I thought.  
Suddenly, Katrina dropped to her knees.  I heard her bare knees strike the 
wooden floor.  I saw her wince.  She wore high heels and had not realized 
that, in kneeling, sheÕd wind up making an uncontrolled drop to the floor.  
She recovered herself and, nude as a jaybird, she put her mouth to the 
round handle of the door.  She gripped the handle with her teeth and tried 
to turn it.
         Svetlana turned and looked at Constance.  The pigtailed girl nodded.  
She ran to the door.  I thought her purpose was to stop Katrina but, then, I 
saw she was carrying a camera.  She lifted it to her face and aimed it 
down at Katrina, standing over the girl.  Katrina, turning the knob, looked 
up at the camera.
         FLASH!  click.  Poor Katrina!  Constance had captured her on film, 
pathetically trying to open a door with her mouth.  I knew many males 
would rejoice at that picture.  A handcuffed girl, trying to escape her fate.  
         Katrina did not give up.  She gripped the doorknob more tightly with 
her teeth.  It was big in her mouth, making her jaws split wide.  It was 
made of brass and, being well polished, was slippery.  The saliva from her 
mouth made it still more difficult to grasp.  Constance clicked off photo 
after photo of her.  I felt sorry for Katrina, her bare breasts, the tips 
risen, wiggling helplessly as she tried to escape.  Now and then she strove 
against her handcuffs, moving her arms fruitlessly.  The big metal 
handcuffs clung implacably to her wrists.  Her bare ribs stood out below 
her breasts as she drew in her breath, fighting against the door handle.  
Her bare legs tensed.  Her bottom bulbed behind her, an invitation to the 
whip, should Svetlana command that it be used upon her.  We all watched, 
mesmerized.  There was a certain pathetic sensuousness it KatrinaÕs 
plight.  I prayed sheÕd get the door open, somehow, and planned to run 
through the open door the minute her sacrifice paid off.  I bit my lip, 
watching.  How foolish it was for she and I to come here!  We had been 
young and frivolous, playing with fire, and now we were burning.  That it 
was between our legs that we burned most of all was, I guess, due 
punishment for us, that we deserved.  I bent my knees, then straightened 
my legs, then bent my knees again.  I felt empty up between my legs, in my 
dell.  I wanted, yet I planned to run the minute Katrina succeeded.
         A tear ran down KatrinaÕs face.  She was losing the battle and she 
knew it.  She had done nothing but provide more photos for wicked men and 
horny boys.  She released the doorknob from her mouth.  A sigh escaped her 
lips.  They were wet with her own saliva.  It gleamed on the doorknob too, 
where sheÕd slobbered upon it.  She bent her knees, as I was doing, as if 
feeling the same need as I felt.  She straightened her legs, bent them 
again.  ÒOh!Ó she cried.  The camera clicked again, capturing her arousal.  
         Svetlana tossed back her head and laughed.  ÒSuch excellent photos!Ó 
she said.  ÒAnd the day is still young, with the night not even begun!Ó
         ÒBoys, IÕm going to put a cocktail glass down at your feet,Ó Angela 
instructed Steve and Mark.  I turned to them.  I watched her kneel.  Her 
breasts hung sweetly, their tips ripe and tremulous, jiggling with the free 
movement of her naked bosoms.  Her belly was flat, dimpled by her navel.  
Her cunt showed raw between her legs as she bent, a red wet gash.  There 
was a clink as first one glass, then the other, was placed upon the 
bedroomÕs wooden floor.
         ÒTo Hell with that.  I have to go to the bathroom!Ó Mark declared.  A 
jet of pee sprouted from the tip of his hard penis and went arcing down to 
the glass.  He hit the rim, splattering pee in wide spashing drops all about 
the missed receptacle.
         ÒHey!Ó Angela cried.  She drew back.  Some of MarkÕs pee, hitting the 
side of the glass, had splashed on her.  Steven, meanwhile, began peeing 
too.  He hit the bottom of the glass exactly, a perfect gentleman, but the 
force of his falling urine was so strong that it splashed right out of the 
glass.  Both boys were making a mess, creating puddles on the floor.
         ÒDielle!  Quickly!Ó Svetlana cried.  I thought her intent was to 
somehow stop the boys.  Indeed, Angela, hearing her, reached up and 
grabbed MarkÕs big prick.  She squeezed it, trying to cut off the flow of his 
pee.  She may as well have tried to stop up a broken fire hydrant with her 
finger.  
         ÒOh, my!  Stop!  Stop!Ó Angela yelled at Mark, kneeling below him, 
looking up at him and his big penis beseechingly.  Yet Svetlana had not 
cried out to Dielle to stop the boys from peeing.  She was much too wicked 
for that.  Instead, she wanted their lewd act photographed!
         And it was.  Dielle manned the camera that stood on the tripod.  She 
clicked off shot after shot.  Each was accompanied by a bright flash that 
caught both the boys and poor Angela, trapped between their peeing dicks.  
Drops of MarkÕs urine speckled her hand, her wrist, her arm, even her belly 
and breasts.  At last the boysÕ flow slowed.  Both glasses were full with 
big puddles underneath them.  Mark had finally found the center of his 
glass.  Little good it did, of course.  His bladder, as well as SteveÕs had 
held much more than any single glass could.
         ÒWell, are you happy now?Ó Angela glowered at Mark.  She released 
his penis.  It still stood out from his body, big as a banana and hard as 
well-wrought iron.  
         ÒNo,Ó Mark answered truthfully, for his testicles still brimmed with 
sperm.  Yet he did not want it wasted, spilled upon the floor as his pee had 
been.  
         ÒCall the maid,Ó Svetlana told Dielle.  The girl let go of the mounted 
camera and walked gracefully to a pile of photographic equipment upon the 
floor.  She bent, and I saw her pick up a cell phone.  She tapped in a number 
and held the phone to her ear.
         ÒHilda?  Would you please come up?  Two of the boys have peed on 
the floor.  Yes.  Right away, please,Ó Dielle said casually into the phone, as 
if reporting a little accident by a baby (two, in fact!) to its nursemaid.  
         ÒAngela,Ó Svetlana said.  ÒIf you go to the dresser youÕll find foley 
catheters in the bottom drawer.  Do you think you could manage to 
catheterize the boys for me?Ó  Angela stood.  She brushed back her long 
red hair.
         ÒI guess so,Ó Angela answered.  ÒI took a course in nursing once.Ó
         ÒGood,Ó Svetlana said.  ÒItÕs not too difficult.  And you look so 
beautiful, in the nude.  IÕd like for you to do it.Ó
         ÒWhy in GodÕs name do you want us catheterized?Ó Mark asked 
angrily.  Yet I sensed arousal in his voice, as if the thought of having his 
penis run through with a catheter, fucked by it really, tempted him against 
his will.
         ÒSo you wonÕt make a new mess on the floor with your sperm,Ó 
Svetlana told him.  Angela, meanwhile, picked up first one cocktail glass, 
then the other.  She made a face.  The urine that brimmed in each glass 
threatened to overspill the glassesÕ rims and wet her hands.
         ÒWhat should I do with these?Ó Angela asked.
         ÒYou could drink them,Ó Svetlana said.
         ÒNot on your life!Ó Angela answered, a little shocked.
         ÒThen water the plant with them,Ó Svetlana said.  ÒOver there.Ó  She 
nodded to the big potted vine at the back of the bedroom.
         ÒWonÕt it kill them?Ó Angela said.
         ÒBoys water plants all the time, IÕm afraid,Ó Svetlana told her.  
ÒJust dump it in.  The soil will absorb it and the plant will draw on the 
moisture and the nutrients.Ó
         ÒDoes pee have nutrients in it?Ó Angela asked, still holding the 
brimming glasses.  Above them her bosoms hung fresh and ripe, her nipples 
fully sprouted, as if already watered by the glassesÕ contents. 
         Svetlana laughed.  ÒI have no idea, dear.  Just get rid of that urine, 
would you?  IÕm afraid youÕll spill more of it on my floor.Ó
         ÒOkay,Ó Angela said.  She walked with some trepidation to the plant 
at the back of the room, not wanting to get any more of the boysÕ urine on 
herself than she already had.  Carefully she poured out their pee.  Then she 
walked to the dresser and set both empty glasses atop it.  They gleamed 
under the photographic lights in the room.  I heard the door open.  We all 
turned.  The maid entered.  She was wheeling a big bucket in front of her, 
with a mop standing in it.  Water sloshed in the bucket.  I saw foam 
floating within it as she pushed it toward me.  She looked with diffident 
eyes at young Katrina, nude and handcuffed, kneeling on the floor.  She 
pushed the bucket past her.  Constance went to the door and shut it.
         How embarrassed I felt!  I was made up like a doll, yet I was totally 
naked and, worse, handcuffed.  It didnÕt take a mature eye like the maidÕs 
to see I had a wet dell and wanted a cock up me.  I shivered under her gaze.  
It was imperious now, not modest at all, as if she were secretly laughing 
at me.  I was young and beautiful, but I looked utterly silly now, and she 
knew, I imagine, that I had a long night ahead of me.  With Svetlana, it did 
not promise to be a honeymoon.  Rather, I feared, it would be more like a 
visit to the Marquis de Sade!
         The maid stopped the bucket in front of Mark.  She eyed him, his 
forthright cock, stiff and needy.  She got out her mop.  She rung it in the 
steel rollers above the bucket and then plopped it on the floor.  With quick, 
workmanlike strokes she brushed across the floorÕs wooden planks.  
Fortunately the floor was well polished, else the pee might have stained 
it.  She dipped her mop in the bucket, rung it out again, and set to work on 
the floor once more.  Angela, meanwhile, drew catheters from the bottom 
drawer of the dresser.  They were clear.  WeÕd be able to see the boysÕ 
sperm as it shot into them.  At the end of each catheter Angela carefully 
attached a plastic medical bag.  I saw that each was empty, waiting to be 
filled.  The boys, I had no doubt, would take care of that, though they didnÕt 
want to.
         ÒThank you, Hilda,Ó Svetlana told the maid.  She had finished her job.  
She took one more look at MarkÕs penis, then at SteveÕs, and headed with 
her bucket for the door.  I listened to the rollers underneath the bucket as 
it wheeled across the room.  She opened the door, passed through.  She 
closed it behind her.  I saw dejection in KatrinaÕs eyes.  SheÕd missed 
another chance to escape.  
         Angela, smiling and confident, walked over to the boys.  She laid 
down on the still wet floor their catheters, and the jar of grease that 
would be needed to lubricate the free ends of the catheters.
         ÒIf you donÕt want us making a mess, why donÕt you just have us 
wear condoms?Ó Mark asked Svetlana with a frustrated look on his face.  
How strange it must have felt for him!  He was the man, with all his 
bulging, rippling muscles, yet he was entirely at the mercy of girls!  Dave 
showed no signs of wishing to get him out of his jam.  In fact, he rather 
seemed to look forward to seeing the boys catheterized.
         ÒBecause you have a cunt, not a cock, and things go up cunts,Ó Dave 
laughed.  Svetlana patted DaveÕs penis with her small hand, as if to quiet a 
boisterous child.
         ÒNo, dear,Ó she said to Dave.  Then, turning, she addressed Mark.  ÒIf 
you were to wear a condom, Mark, what would the camera record, hmmm?Ó
         ÒIt would show my cock wearing a condom,Ó Mark answered.  He 
frowned, angry at being asked such a dumb question.
         ÒCorrect,Ó Svetlana told him.  She stroked Dave to let him know he 
was still her favorite, even if she was talking to Mark at the moment.  
ÒThe camera would make a picture of your cock, but your lovely big cock, 
my dear boy, would be concealed *within* the condom.  The ladies and gay 
men I plan to sell your photo to donÕt want to look at a condom.  They want 
to see your young cock in all its glory.  But I canÕt have you mess my floor 
again.  Hence, the catheter is necessary.  Please accept it in the spirit itÕs 
given.Ó
         ÒWhat spirit is that?!Ó Mark gasped.  Angela chose him first and 
advanced upon him with a catheter trailing from her hand.
         ÒThe spirit of a penitent, accepting his justly due punishment!Ó 
Svetlana said with a laugh.
         ÒI thought so,Ó Mark groused.
         Ah, how the boys struggled!  Each one tried to avoid the tip of the 
catheter, squirming in his bonds.  But despite the wiggling of their bare 
pricks, Angela had no difficulty capturing the manhood of each boy in her 
hand.  With her other hand she stuffed in the greased tip of the catheter.  
The boys groaned.  They shuddered.  I had to avert my eyes when Steven 
was poked.  I loved him too much to see it done.  Up the two catheters 
went, up each boy in turn, until both had a line trailing out of his cock, 
down to an empty bag which waited upon the floor to receive their sperm.
         ÒAlright boys, now its time for your big shoot out,Ó Angela said.  Her 
long red curly mane bounced along her shoulders and down the length of 
her back.  She was clearly loving torturing the boys.  I wondered if she 
might not open a photographic studio of her own, where she could lure 
young boys to their doom.  (Not to mention girls like me.)
         ÒDave, doesnÕt that look fun?Ó Svetlana asked our uncuffed stallion.  
         ÒNo,Ó Dave said.  Yet when Svetlana reached between his legs and 
gently squeezed his balls, I saw him give a pleasant groan.  
         ÒJust think, Dave.  In a minute both boys will be relieved of all that 
nasty sperm thatÕs in their balls, making them feel so hot and bothered.  
WouldnÕt you be willing to undergo a catheterization, if you could feel 
relaxed?Ó Svetlana asked.  With her other hand she gave his penis feather-
light strokes, so as not (hopefully) to make him discharge, while still 
giving him a little pleasure.
         ÒNo, no.  Not over my dead body,Ó Dave said.  Then he let out a sharp 
cry.  Svetlana had given his balls a sharp squeeze and a yank.
         ÒYouÕll kiss my toes if I tell you to,Ó Svetlana told Dave.  I saw in 
her eyes she was testing him, wondering how far she could push him.  He 
was, after all, quite large, and utterly free to strike her if he wished, to 
kill us all, I imagine, if the desire came to him.  He wore no bonds.
         ÒUhn, donÕt do that,Ó Dave said.  Yet he made no move to resist the 
tall, elegant woman who so intimately possessed him.  In fact, I saw him 
open his legs a little more, as if it was his fault sheÕd squeezed him, for 
not giving her enough room between his legs.  She fondled his sac with her 
fingertips, feeling for his two individual testes.  I think she grabbed one 
and squeezed it alone, for his back suddenly tensed and he let out a shout.
         ÒYou are wicked, woman!Ó he breathed.
         ÒI use men and dispose of them at my pleasure,Ó Svetlana replied.  
Her voice was cultured, diffident.  She squeezed his other ball, but more 
lightly, as if not to anger him too much.  ÒHow big you are!  And your 
equipment-- how magnificent!  Truly, if you were not so large and perfect, 
IÕd have you whacked off like the boys, and sent away.  But you are special, 
arenÕt you?  You want to stay the night with me and see what I can do with 
you.Ó
         ÒI just-- thought IÕd get out of the hot sun at the beach,Ó Dave 
answered, truthfully.  ÒI had no idea you were such a demon!Ó
         ÒDemon*ess*,Ó Sveltlana told him.  She squeezed his right testicle 
again.  (I only guess at this.  She sure squeezed something, though, for 
Dave let out another howl.)
         ÒIf you do that again, woman, IÕll kill you,Ó Dave said quite seriously 
to Svetlana.  
         ÒMy, my.  You men are always so violent,Ó Svetlana said.  ÒIÕll have 
you know my name, to you at least, is not Ôwoman.Õ  ItÕs Mistress, from 
now on, and I expect you to use it, with respect and courtesy, when 
addressing me.  Is that understood?Ó  
         ÒYes,Ó Dave said.  I saw the muscles of his back tense, expecting 
another squeeze, but she let him feel only the fondling of her fingertips 
upon his balls.  
         ÒVery good,Ó Svetlana said.  ÒUnderstand, of course, that other men 
might call me Ôwoman.Õ  Men that I respect.  But not you.  You are nothing 
to me.  Nothing, except for your beautiful big cock and your wonderful 
balls.Ó
         ÒYes, mistress,Ó Dave said.  I knew now why sheÕd kept him.  SheÕd 
guessed, somehow, that big as he was, she could break him.  Steve and 
Mark, however, were another matter, being younger and more boisterous.  
Yet I sensed Steve could be made obedient.  Perhaps it was only my love 
for him.  He was the youngest, just like me.
         ÒAh, Mark.  Why do you resist my touch?Ó Angela asked the young 
man under her command.  (He, of course, was cuffed, being of a hot-
tempered personality.)  ÒIsnÕt this your dream, little boy, to have a 
beautiful woman fondle your cock like this?Ó
         ÒIÕm not a little boy,Ó Mark protested.  He watched as Angela 
fingered his big penis and, bending, ran her tongue along it.  Her bosoms 
hung pendantly beneath her, like ripe fruit on display.  Constance 
photographed them both.  MarkÕs sighs, AngelaÕs loving murmurs.
         ÒCum, Mark,Ó Angela said.  ÒDo you want me to bite your penis?  Is 
that what you need?Ó  She smiled.  She placed her teeth on his cock and 
gently bit into his shaft.
         ÒNo!Ó Mark gasped.  
         ÒMmmm, you need a hickey on your cock,Ó Angela said.  She closed 
her teeth until just a small bit of his cockskin remained between them.  
Then she bit, and Mark gave a loud yell.  When she lifted her face from his 
penis there was a sharp red mark upon his shaft.  I could not see it at the 
moment, being on the other side of Mark, but I had little doubt it was 
there, and knew well what a hickey looked like, having been given one by a 
boyfriend when I was ten.  My mom had spanked me for it.  The boy had 
been younger than me, only nine, and sheÕd said I was corrupting him.  But 
IÕd had nothing to do with it.  (Of course, weÕd been playing doctor, which I 
didnÕt tell her.)
         ÒYes, poor Mark, I want to see that little bag at the end of the 
catheter filled right up,Ó Angela told the young man.  ÒSvetlana insists, 
and IÕm not one to disobey her.  Are you?Ó
         ÒNo,Ó Mark answered.  He cast a worried glance at Svetlana, and 
Dave, who so recently had felt SvetlanaÕs displeasure between his legs.
         ÒThen shoot, Markie,Ó Angela said.  Seeing he was going to be 
difficult, she picked up the jar of catheter grease from the floor.  She 
dipped her fingers in it.  Looking at him, she said, ÒI guess IÕm going to 
have to give you the ÔHustlerÕ treatment, eh Mark?  YouÕve seen those 
cartoons in Hustler, havenÕt you?  DonÕt tell me you never jerk off to a 
porno magazine.  You know, those cartoons of men fisting themselves.  
ThatÕs what IÕm going to do to you, Mark.  Fist you until you shoot for me.Ó  
Angela greased both her palms, rubbing her hands together.  
         With wide eyes Mark watched as Angela took possession of him with 
both her hands.  She had small hands, with delicate, tapering fingers.  
Nonetheless she clasped his banana-like prick firmly.  Then she began 
yanking on it.  She drew her squeezing hands down its length, then pushed 
up, as if trying to force MarkÕs penis into his groin.  Then it was down 
again, then up.  She looked like she might be fucking him with a dildo, 
except his penis stood out ramrod straight and utterly erect, unmoving 
except for the wicked movement she made along its length with her 
squeezing palms.  I watched, tensely, mesmerized.  Even Katrina was 
watching.  Our breath moved in and out of our frozen bodies, making our 
breasts shiver, but otherwise we stood utterly unmoving and spellbound.  
Svetlana herself hardly made any movement, though her hands continued to 
flutter along DaveÕs shaft, to keep him under control.
         Angela moved with athletic grace, like a lioness.  With quick, even 
strokes she pulled and pushed on MarkÕs hard penis.  She looked like a slim 
milkmaid milking, with determination, a stubborn cow.  Mark gazed down 
at himself, then flung his head back, gasped, looked down again, trying to 
hold himself in.  He did not want to be dismissed from our party, I guess, 
or at least not in this ignoble way.  Across from him, manacled to the 
other bedpost, stood Steve, waiting with horrified eyes for his cock to be 
milked in turn.  I wished I could save him somehow.  But it was hopeless.  
Constance and Dielle were ever ready to prevent any tricks, not to mention 
Svetlana, and Angela, who had already punished the boys with a whip.
         ÒUhn, uhn, uhn, stop!Ó Mark pleaded.  He tried looking at Angela but, 
just as he did, she gave him another hard jerk, forcing his eyes to the 
ceiling.  Her work was taking its toll on his willpower.  I saw his back 
straighten.  His knees bent.  Suddenly, he loosed his seed.  Instead of 
splattering over Angela it went shooting into the clear catheter.  Svetlana 
let go of DaveÕs prick and gave a quick clap of applause.  It was joined by 
Constance, who clapped too.  Dielle was too busy taking pictures to clap.  
         Angela let go of MarkÕs dick.  She watched him ejaculate, clapping as 
she watched.  Mark, desperate, looked at her.  How rude it was for her to 
let go of him in mid spurt, I thought!  (I didnÕt know too much about boysÕ 
anatomy but my girlfriend at school did, and she said she said you had to 
keep rubbing them until they were done.)
         ÒOh.  Do you want MORE, Markie?Ó Angela laughed.  ÒI thought you 
didnÕt want me to play with your penis.Ó  Then she took hold of him again.  
ÒCome, Markie, get it all out.  We donÕt want you keeping any back, do we?Ó 
she said.  Mark was forced to spurt and spurt until I knew he must be 
empty.  I felt saddened, seeing his sperm in the bag, all wasted like that.  
MarkÕs penis began to shrivel.  ÒThere, Mark, youÕve had your due.  Time to 
go home,Ó Angela said to him.  She wiped her arm across her mouth.  He 
needed no more hickeys.  Giving him one had put the sweat from his 
straining cock on her lips.
         Dielle went to the cell phone.  She picked it up and called the maid.  
ÒPlease come up and escort Mark out of the house,Ó she said.  ÒYes, heÕs 
quite finished.  Oh, he might come up again, but Svetlana says she has all 
the photos she needs of him.Ó
         ÒExcept for him dressing,Ó Svetlana said, raising her voice so Dielle 
would hear.  ÒWe need photos of him putting his pants back on.Ó  She 
laughed.  ÒSorry, Mark.  You are quite a hunk, otherwise you wouldnÕt be 
here at all.  But I need these sort of photos, you know, of a young man 
getting his just desserts and going glumly away.  Try to pout when Dielle 
takes your photo.  Who knows?  If youÕre good you may get a special 
invitation for a return visit.Ó
         ÒForget it!Ó Mark said.  ÒIÕm through with you, woman.Ó  He glared at 
her.  Angela went to the dresser to fetch the key to his handcuffs.
         ÒOh, do you think youÕve offended me, Mark?Ó Svetlana said.  ÒNo, 
dear.  I respect you.  Unlike Dave, here.Ó  She smirked, first at Mark, then 
at Dave.  ÒYes, youÕre like a God to me, Mark, especially if youÕre obedient 
and let the maid take you out, without giving me any trouble.  And now 
that IÕve angered you IÕm tempted to be your slave, and let you have your 
way with me.Ó  She stroked DaveÕs cock.  ÒBut it will have Ôtill wait until 
another day, Mark, when I can devote myself just to you.Ó
         Mark looked confused.  I know that hot-tempered young hunk was 
planning something when the cuffs were opened, perhaps smashing us all 
to bits, if only he could get Dave to cooperate.  But now, with such a 
beautiful, accomplished woman begging to be his slave, he didnÕt know 
what to do.  Svetlana had either picked out her men very well, which I 
doubted, since she apparently didnÕt even know our names when we showed 
up.  Or she was expert at handling males, perhaps having photographed 
hundreds of them as an erotic photographer.
         ÒAlright,Ó Mark said.  ÒGive me a call.  IÕll be at HeloiseÕs for the 
rest of the week, working as a model.  I know youÕre just bitching me, 
though, to get rid of me.Ó
         ÒHardly,Ó Svetlana said.  She looked at him with admiring eyes.  ÒI 
donÕt photograph nobodies.  Even if Dave is one,Ó she added, casting a 
glance at the man she held by his dick.  ÒWeÕll meet again, sweetie, and 
youÕll hear me call you ÔMasterÕ the minute I set eyes on you.Ó
         Dizzied by his torture, and even more by the prospect of a 
submissive Svetlana, Mark allowed himself to be unlocked from the 
bedpost by Angela.  He did nothing to any of us when he was free, just 
stood there, dumbly, staring at Svetlana, visions of her as his slave 
dancing in his mind.
         The maid entered.  She looked at us, at Mark, saw his small, 
withdrawn prick.  He took a step forward.  The catheter swung between his 
legs.  Angela touched a finger to his broad shoulder.
         ÒMark, I donÕt think you want to take that home with you,Ó Angela 
said to Mark.
         ÒOh, yeah,Ó Mark replied.  He looked down at the catheter still 
hanging from his penis.  Angela turned him to face her.  She knelt.  I saw 
Mark grimace as the catheter was withdrawn.  She held a betadine pad in 
her hand and she smoothly passed it over his penis tip.  Then she broke 
open an alcohol pad and wiped off the stain left by the betadine.
         ÒOkay, youÕre free to go,Ó Angela said to Mark.  ÒDonÕt forget to dress 
first.  IÕm sure the little girls playing across the street in the park would 
just love to see your buff body walking out to the car.Ó
         ÒYeah, thatÕs all I need,Ó Mark agreed.  ÒI think IÕve had enough 
female attention for one day.Ó  
         The maid opened a closet.  SheÕd hung our clothes there.  She pulled 
out a hanger.  MarkÕs pants were draped over it, plus his shirt.  SheÕd not 
bothered to hang his shirt up seperately.  She handed him his clothes.
         ÒThanks,Ó Mark said.  ÒIÕll be leaving now.Ó  Dielle snapped photos of 
him as he dressed.  Constance too, as if he were a visiting Olympic 
champion, now taking his leave of us.
         Mark left.  The maid went with him, closing the bedroom door behind 
her.
         ÒWell, Steven, youÕre next,Ó Angela said to my love.
         ÒOh, please, donÕt!Ó I blurted.  To my surprise, Katrina blurted the 
same.  We both looked at each other, a little jealously, as if each of us had 
intruded on the other.
         ÒWhat?!Ó Svetlana asked.  
         ÒPlease let him stay,Ó Katrina begged in a small voice, kneeling on 
the floor, her hands bound behind her.
         ÒWell, Miss Misbehavior now seems a bit more interested in sticking 
around,Ó Svetlana said.
         ÒIÕm sorry I tried to escape,Ó Katrina said.  ÒI just-- felt nervous, 
thatÕs all.Ó  
         ÒI understand,Ó Svetlana said.  ÒDo you promise to obey if I let 
Steven stay?Ó
         ÒYes,Ó Katrina gulped.  I felt a little angry.  He was, in my mind, my 
boyfriend, not hers, though we hadnÕt done anything together.  I wished she 
would go back to her old ways of thinking, or, better yet, try another 
escape, and succeed.  But we were here at SvetlanaÕs pleasure, not mine, 
and she clearly wanted to keep the rest of us, at least for a little longer.
         ÒSteven, do you promise to be obedient to Mistress Svetlana if I 
donÕt whack you off?Ó Svetlana asked.  Angela stood ready, her palms 
greased, if he chose to answer in the negative.
         ÒUh, yeah... I guess,Ó Steve answered.  He clearly wanted to cum, just 
not in such an ignoble way as she had planned for him.  
         ÒGood, Steve.  Then I expect you to keep yourself stiff and hard and 
ready for my instructions, okay?Ó Svetlana said.
         ÒOkay,Ó Steve replied.  He was, even as I watched, becoming beguiled 
by Svetlana, just as Dave had been.  She had spells, this woman, that she 
could cast with her eyes, or her mind, or something.  Perhaps it was her 
softly beckoning voice.
         ÒOkay Mistress,Ó Svetlana corrected.
         ÒYes...  Mistress,Ó Steve stammered.
         ÒLeave the catheter in for now,Ó Svetlana instructed Angela.  ÒYou 
never know, he might turn bad on us.  But unlock his cuffs.  I doubt heÕll go 
anywhere with a foley catheter dangling between his legs.  Steven, be 
careful you donÕt step on the tube when youÕre free, okay.  That could 
hurt.Ó
         ÒOh, yeah,Ó Steve said.  HeÕd never been catheterized before and he 
looked with worried eyes at the thing dangling down between his legs.  
Would he have to carry his little empty bag with him, wherever he went, 
the bag at the end of his tube?  Like a womanÕs purse?  I guessed so.  I felt 
sorry for him, but there was nothing I could do.  
         Svetlana turned to Katrina, then cast her eyes upon me.  ÒGirls, I 
want you both up on the bed, in a 69,Ó Svetlana said.  ÒThereÕs no need to 
remove the cuffs.  How pretty youÕll both look, cuffed, but with your faces 
between each otherÕs thighs!  Help them, Constance.  Get them both on the 
bed.  Dielle, get ready to take more pictures.Ó
         ÒYes, maÕam,Ó Dielle and Constance said in unison.  She did not 
reprove them for not calling her Ômistress.Õ  I guessed the command only 
applied to us, her erotic players, in her theatre erotique.  Dielle and 
Constance were just stage hands, though pretty enough to play if Svetlana 
chose to include them.
         A few minutes later I found myself flat on my back on the big satin 
bed.  My knees were drawn up, but my legs were wide apart.  Constance had 
insisted upon it.  I heard the camera clicking, somewhere.  Dielle was 
already busy taking pictures.
         Above me hovered Katrina.  Her legs straddled my torso.  I watched 
as Constance bent her down.  With her knees on either side of me, 
KatrinaÕs head was forced down between my legs.  Her bare bottom sat 
square upon my nose.
         ÒHey!Ó I cried out.  I was a brownnose, my nose stuck up against her 
anus hole and the cheeks of my face pressed ignominiously to the cheeks 
of her ass.  I smelled her, but she smelled sweet, for they had perfumed 
her bottom.  I knew my ass must smell the same to her, for they had done 
the same to me.  Our bodies sweated a little, from nervousness, from the 
tension weÕd endured as we stood waiting upon SvetlanaÕs commands, 
watching Mark be milked.
         I felt a soft sigh between my legs.  It tickled my thatch.  I wriggled.  
My hands were cuffed underneath me and I could do nothing save close my 
legs.  I tried, found KatrinaÕs head was now between them, keeping them 
open.  Frustrated, seeing her bottom lift a little off my face, perhaps so 
she could somehow kneel more comfortably over me, I saw her wet snatch.  
I knew it would torture her to be tickled there, a little.  Yet I didnÕt have 
my hands available.  So, impulsively, I darted out my tongue.
         ÒYeek!Ó I heard at my tail.  Katrina had felt that!
         ÒOh, theyÕre starting already!Ó Svetlana cried.  She had not told us to 
tongue each other, just to pose.  Yet she had not forbidden tonguing either.  
She knew we were young, had never tasted pussy.  I enjoyed hearing 
Katrina scream so much that I gave her another stab with my tongue.
         Oh!  As soon as her second scream died she stabbed me back!  I 
wasnÕt sure sheÕd have the guts to do that.  I stuck my tongue in her snatch 
again, deeper this time, to let her know I could fuck her if I needed to, if 
she didnÕt quit licking me.  I wanted her to get off me, or at least not to 
sit her bottom on my face, like she had already.  I didnÕt like smelling her 
ass, even if she had to smell mine.
         ÒYeek!Ó  This time it was me who screamed.  She went much deeper 
than I thought she would.  That dratted girl!  First sheÕd stolen Steven 
from me, and now she was licking my snatch!  Desist, already!  Quit!  Here, 
for your displeasure, miss, have a really good stab from me!
         Our little battle quickly took the turn Svetlana had hoped for, and I, 
at least, had hoped we could avoid.  I found myself enjoying my friendÕs 
licks.  I think she liked mine too, though we never spoke of it afterward.  I 
stabbed deeper into her.  At the same time I began to lift my hips, begging 
for her to reciprocate.  She did.  She squatted closer, though not so close 
that I couldnÕt do my work on her.  She left me a small space so I could 
breathe.  She was artful, her legs split wide, her thighs tensed, her soft 
petal-like dell poised over me and brushing lightly against my lips.  I 
licked.  I liked licking.  For every lick I gave her, she gave me one.  It felt 
dizzyingly pleasurable to have her quick tongue between my thighs.  We 
licked more.  Soon we were no longer counting strokes.  We were sluts.  We 
were greedy.  I ate her nest with abandon.  She fed within mine, licking 
deep inside my lips, right to the tempting shield of my half-torn hymen.  
She tested it with her tongue.  I begged her, bucking my hips up, to remove 
it with her tongue.  She tried.  She tore it a little more, I think, though 
there was no blood afterward.  Deep we delved.  Hungrily we ate.  Who took 
yours? I wondered of her, with my licking tongue, as she nipped at my 
hymen.  Was it a girl, like me?  I doubted it.  In any event she didnÕt take 
mine, only opened it a little more, leaving the rest for a man to undo.  Yet 
we ate each otherÕs slits voraciously, like disciples on Lesbos, and, at 
last, came upon each otherÕs faces.  She honeyed my nose with her juices.  
I honeyed hers.
         ÒVery good.  Excellent, girls,Ó Svetlana said when it was over.  
Constance helped Katrina and I sit up on the bed.  I felt the satin sheets 
beneath my bare bottom.  Between my legs I was sinfully wet.  I sat with 
my feet dangling over the side of the bed.  Katrina sat beside me.  Our bare 
shoulders bumped.  We edged a little farther apart.  Constance got the keys 
to our cuffs and unlocked our hands.  I flexed my arms.  I saw Katrina 
flexing hers, beside me.  It felt good to be free again.  I felt circulation 
flowing into my arms, my hands.  It had been inhibited somewhat by the 
cuffs, by my enforced posture in the cuffs.  Now they were free again.  I 
looked at my hands.  I flexed my fingers.  I felt my shoulders, free to hunch 
forward again, if I wished, not yanked back as theyÕd been.
         The satin felt wonderful on my bottom.  I wished to sit there 
forever, pampered, relaxed, admiring the stiff men from my satin perch.  I 
was a flower, a small bird.  I was a cat, with long lashes, taking in the 
view.
         Constance went to the dresser.  She returned with a small box.  It 
was made of plastic.  She opened it.  From it she drew two small cloths.  
They were scented with Aloe Vera.  
         ÒWipe with these,Ó Constance said.  She gave me one, gave the other 
to Katrina.  I wiped my face with it.  Constance laughed.  ÒNo!  Not your 
face.  Ohhh, youÕve smeared your makeup,Ó she said.  She tossed the box 
onto the bed beside my hip and walked over to the makeup chair to fetch a 
makeup kit to fix my face.
         ÒWipe your pussy with it, silly,Ó Katrina scolded me.  She wiped the 
cloth between her legs.  
         ÒOh,Ó I said.  I dropped my cloth upon the floor and fetched another 
from the box.  Constance returned.  As I patted my slit with the cloth, 
wiping away my lustful secretions, Constance re-did my makeup.  Katrina 
watched, then turned and looked at the men.  
         Angela, at SvetlanaÕs direction, was fitting both men with a curious 
device.  It was made of leather.  At first I thought it was meant somehow 
to cover their big cocks, to make them modest.  Angela bent before my 
favorite, Steve, and put a small leather band around his balls.  When she 
drew it tight he groaned.  He lifted his hand in the air, and glared down at 
her kneeling figure.  I think he would have hit her, but for the foley 
catheter stuck up his penis.  It gave Angela a very easy way to discipline 
him.  One tug would make him most remorseful.  So instead his hand 
wavered, and then fell to his side.  Angela smiled, pulled the drawstrings 
tighter on the band.  SteveÕs head shot back and he let out a mournful, 
throaty howl.  
         ÒYes, dear.  If itÕs not tight youÕll spend.  This will force your sac 
down and keep your seed inside you while I torture you some more,Ó 
Angela said in a soft, whispery voice.  She knew how to put them through 
excruciating pain without seeming mean about it.  She was helping them, 
as she saw it.  Helping them retain their seed, so they could stay nice and 
hard for us.  
         ÒNow the cock, dearest.  Tie the other part around his penis,Ó 
Svetlana instructed Angela.  My friend lifted a second band, hanging 
loosely in front of SteveÕs balls.  It was attached to the part of the device 
already ringing his sac.  Angela lifted up the second band and wrapped it 
around the base of SteveÕs shaft.  She drew it tight.  Tighter.  Steve 
howled.
         ÒThis is to keep back any sperm that somehow escapes your balls,Ó 
Angela smiled up at SteveÕs agonized face.  ÒYouÕll be grateful for it once I 
really start putting your penis through its paces, donÕt worry,Ó she told 
him.  
         ÒDo I have to wear one of those?Ó Dave asked Svetlana.
         ÒOf course, honey,Ó Svetlana said.  Lightly she stroked his cock.  It 
stuck out massively in front of him, a kind of magic wand, of great 
thickness, that Svetlana, a goddess and witch, could play upon with her 
fingers.  Beneath his crotch DaveÕs sac of sperm was drawn up tightly, 
bulging with his need to spend.  The leather appliance would force his 
balls down so they hung less tensely.
         Constance bade me to stand.  I did.  She turned me around.  Bending 
over behind me, she clasped the cheeks of my bottom.  I yelped.
         ÒShush, sweetie, I want to wipe your ass for you,Ó Constance told 
me.  I shivered.  I froze.  My bottom had sweated a little as Katrina had 
toungued me, but really!  I didnÕt think this was really necessary.  Katrina, 
seeing my fate, quickly stepped around me and got a wet napkin for herself 
and wiped her bottom.  Dielle snapped a picture of her hand wedged in her 
ass, wiping herself.  Katrina blushed.
         ÒCanÕt I have any privacy?Ó Katrina asked.  Dielle giggled.
         ÒIf that bothers you, wait Ôtill you see how Svetlana and Angela plan 
to torture the menÕs dicks,Ó Dielle replied.  She took another picture.  
Constance crumpled the disposable cloth sheÕd used to wipe me and threw 
it on the floor.  Then, picking up the same powder puff sheÕd used to 
powder my face, she lightly brushed it between the cheeks of my naked 
ass.  
         ÒOh!Ó I said.
         ÒThere, powdered on your cheeks at both ends,Ó Constance said.  
Dielle giggled again.  Constance turned to Katrina.  Reluctantly Katrina 
opened her bottom.  She held it open with her palms as Constance 
powdered her ass.  I watched, hearing the camera click in the background.  
We were on display.  We would be captured forever like this, on film, twin 
girls with powdered asses wondering what was planned for us.
         Angela reached back behind Steve and cupped his bare ass with one 
of her small hands.  Wordlessly she turned him.  He was easy to manipulate 
now, with his cock painfully bound in leather at its base and his balls 
aching under the stress of their new imprisonment.  The foley catheter 
insured his complete obedience.  He could not get it out himself.  Without 
it, he surely would have reached between his legs and untied the appliance 
so ruthlessly gripping his sex.  With it, he was a captive, despite the 
freedom of his hands, the bulging muscles of his arms, his thighs, his 
back.  Angela turned him as easily as she might turn a baby.  When his bare 
ass was facing her she smiled.  She gave one of his plump white buns a 
small lick.  She nuzzled the hairy ass crack splitting his cheeks.  Then, 
lifting a long leash, she parted his strong thighs with her hands.  Within, 
under him, her slender fingers attached the leash to a ring at the back of 
his cockstrap.  
         Angela stood.  She brushed back her red curly hair.  She looked 
poised, confident, despite her nudity.  Her small, slim back arched proudly 
and she drew the leash up, up, until it threaded up through the crack in 
SteveÕs ass.  
         ÒYes, dear, I have you reined like a reindeer,Ó Angela smiled and 
laughed.  Steve squirmed at the pressure of the rings on his loins, the 
sharp feel of the leather leash splitting open his ass.  ÒShall you take me 
home to the North Pole, hmmm?Ó Angela asked my favorite guy.  He turned.  
She watched, seeing his cock begin to come into view.  It protruded in 
front of him like some lewd, horizontal stalagmite.  ÒNo, dear,Ó Angela 
chided.  She yanked hard on her leash.  Steve groaned.  His back tensed.  He 
returned to his former position.  
         Svetlana, meanwhile, had taken it upon herself to tie down Dave.  
ÒLetÕs get you saddled up,Ó she purred to him, tying a band tightly around 
his balls.  Dave stood with his legs spread, his features breaking into a 
sudden grimace.  He seemed both to dread her attention and to long for it.  
Her nails were sharp, her designs were wicked, yet she handled him with 
such aplomb that IÕm sure he must have felt like a work of art.  She was 
nothing if not worshipful of him, especially his big penis.  We all were, I 
suppose, with our lambent eyes, watching him as he suffered.  I wondered 
who would be favored by his hard-on up her snatch.  I hoped it would be 
me, yet I was fearful, both of losing my virginity and of his tremendous 
size.  Still, my eyes glowed passionately as I watched him.  It was fun to 
watch.  And painless.
         ÒWoman, if you werenÕt so beautiful, I think IÕd kill you,Ó Dave said 
to Svetlana.  Her eyes flicked up at him.  
         ÒYou arenÕt the first to tell me that,Ó Svetlana answered.  She looped 
the second leather band up around his cock and tied its drawstrings.  Dave 
gave another grimace, yet suppressed any scream.  He was less vocal than 
Steve.  ÔWell, heÕs older,Õ I said to myself.  ÔSteve is just a boy.  A young-
man boy.  Dave is a full grown man.Õ  I did not feel remorse for Dave.  He 
seemed old and slightly cruel, though only in his 20Õs.  His face had lines 
on it and I think he would have enjoyed hurting us, if he could.  I was 
thankful that Svetlana could keep him under such perfect control.
         Dave was leashed.  Svetlana, reluctantly I think, gave Angela 
possession of him.  The nude young woman smiled.  She held them both 
now, by their balls, in her small hands.  Her generous bosoms hung like 
ripe, full fruit on her chest.  The men sported balls that hung with 
generous fullness between their legs.  I knew we must be ready to play at 
sex now, and wondered which of us would be spermed.
         ÒCostume them,Ó Svetlana said to Constance.  Nodding, Constance 
went to the closet that housed our clothes.  For a moment I thought we 
might dress, be free of this place, and I wasnÕt sure how I felt about that, 
with the men both so obviously ready to give pleasure to any female who 
wanted it.  Yet Constance opened the far end of the closet, sliding back the 
big doors.  I watched as she took out two chiffon nighties.  They were baby 
doll nighties.  She walked over to Katrina and I.  ÒPut these on,Ó she said.  
ÒTheyÕve been specially made to fit your measurements.Ó
         I blushed.  I felt flattered.  A brand new nightie, for me!  I lifted my 
present carefully off its wire hanger.  I slipped it over my head.  I shook 
out my hair.  I felt lovely.  I looked down at myself.  My bosoms lifted the 
soft, sheer fabric, not hidden in any way, yet feeling quite special 
enveloped in the soft nightie.  I could see their pink tips.  Despite their 
delicacy, the nightie was more delicate, and the risen stems of my teats 
gave an extra lift to the nightie.  
         I tugged at the hem.  Katrina, now wearing her nightie, tugged at her 
hem too.  It barely covered my pubis!  Her nightie was just as immodest.  I 
moved and the front of my nightie rippled, the hem trying to rise.  It was 
so light and sheer that even the slightest movement of my body would 
cause it to lift, the minute I let go of it with my hands.  
         ÒWhatÕs the use of this if it canÕt keep me covered?Ó I asked 
Svetlana.
         ÒItÕs not supposed to do anything more than adorn you, decorate you,Ó 
Svetlana replied with a smile.  ÒYouÕre an ornament, dear.  Nothing more.Ó
         DielleÕs camera clicked.  I blushed a deeper pink.  Behind me 
Constance lifted the back of my nightie up to my waist.  
         ÒHey, what are you doing?Ó I asked, turning my head.  
         ÒIÕm pinning it up in back,Ó Constance said.  ÒSo your ass shows.  It 
will make it easier for the men.Ó
         ÒTo do what?Ó Katrina asked.  There was a note of alarm in her 
voice.
         ÒTo fuck you up the ass, after youÕve been whipped,Ó Constance 
answered, matter-of-factly.
         ÒNo!Ó Katrina cried.  I felt a shiver of fear run down my spine.  
         ÒOh, please!Ó I said.  Quickly my eyes flew to Svetlana.
         ÒIt will not be harsh, dears.  Why do you think I have the men so well 
restrained?Ó Svetlana asked.  
         ÒOh, who will whip us?Ó Katrina asked.  As she stood clutching the 
hem of her nightie in front, Constance walked softly behind her.  She lifted 
KatrinaÕs nightie in back, baring her bottom as mine had been.  She slipped 
pins into it to hold it up.
         ÒWho would you like to whip you?Ó Svetlana queried.  There was a 
look of amusement on her face.
         ÒOh I would never PICK someone to whip me!  I donÕt want to be 
whipped!Ó Katrina said in a voice that suddenly sounded less defiant, 
almost plaintive.  I wriggled my hips, feeling their freedom.  Would they 
be constained soon, for-- I could not speak the words, even to myself.  My 
eyes darted to SteveÕs penis, then to DaveÕs.  They both stood out terrible 
and pulsing, sleek and strong and long, like sharks hovering over trapped 
fish.  I was captive, and knew it.  Captive to my own desires, and my fears, 
too scared to even try to run.  I felt a wave of erotic tension pass through 
me.  It was unbidden, brought on by the sight of the menÕs hungry cocks.  
Did I want them?  Surely I couldnÕt have such large appendages up my 
small virgin bottom.  Surely I could not.  I would squeeze my cheeks and 
they would find me impossible.
         Constance finished pinning up KatrinaÕs nightie.  She bade us to sit 
on the bed.  We did, our hips bumping.  I was glad for the firm smoothness 
of the sheets under my hiney.  I pressed my rump into them and prayed I 
wouldnÕt have to get up.  
         Constance went to the dresser.  She returned with more decorations 
for us.  Two pink bows for our hair, and leather collars for our necks.  
Katrina reached out, caught my hand.  She squeezed it tightly, almost 
making me squeal.  I appreciated her grip, all the same.  It was comforting 
in its tightness.  Painful but comforting.  She eased her grip.  She shivered.  
Constance freed my hair from its ponytail.  She fluffed it with her hands.  
She told me I had pretty hair.  Then she tied the pink ribbon into my hair.  
Dielle snapped my photo.  Contstance adorned KatrinaÕs hair with a bow.  
After that Constance wrapped the leather collars around our necks.  She 
drew them tight.  I felt submissive, collared like that, wearing such a 
pretty bow.  I was girlish, meek.  Katrina gripped my hand again, but this 
time not so hard.  We sat holding hands, waiting, while Constance fetched 
more things from the dresser.
         She returned bearing wristlets of leather and ropes.  The ropes were 
white, soft.  I reached out with my free hand and touched one.  I looked up 
at Constance.  She held something else too, brought from the dresser.  A 
box of kleenex.  I could guess why she needed that.  For our bottoms, to 
wipe them after the men were through with our asses.  Or was the box for 
blood?  I felt a queasiness in my stomach.  For a moment I almost fainted.  
Surely we would not be whipped until whoever punished us drew blood?  I 
turned my eyes to Svetlana.  I wanted to ask, to protest, but a mouse was 
in my throat.  Something, anyway, that prevented me from speaking.  
Perhaps it was the tightness of my collar.  I opened my lips, closed them.  
No sound issued.
         ÒA little more lipstick on her lips,Ó Svetlana told Constance.  
         ÒAlright,Ó Constance answered.  She had made me put out my hands 
to be bound by the wristlets but, tossing them onto the bed, she picked up 
her makeup kit from the bedÕs nightstand.  She made me part my lips in an 
O.  Still holding my hands out, waiting to have them bound, I obeyed.  I was 
shivering, unthinking now, only able to do as I was told.  Constance put 
another layer of lipstick on my lips, brightening them.  DielleÕs camera 
clicked intrusively.
         The minutes of our preparation passed slowly.  Angela was taken 
aside and her hair was given a new gloss.  Svetlana herself brushed it.  
Angela offered to but Svetlana said ÔNo,Õ she would do it.  She powdered 
AngelaÕs bare breasts and touched up her nipples, using lipstick to make 
them appear more red.  I sensed it would be Angela who whipped us.  I 
gazed at her belly.  It was smooth and soft and her navel dimpled it 
prettily.  I imagined it swollen a few months from now.  The men both 
looked so virile.  Surely if they took her at some point tonight, perhaps 
after doing myself and Katrina, she would not escape unscathed.  Her belly 
seemed to invite impregnation, it was so alluring in its flatness.  Below it 
was the spread of her hips.  They were wide and womanly.  She would 
deliver easily between them, I thought.  They seemed made for child-
bearing.  Mine were still slim.  I was only 14.  But Angela was full-grown, 
ripe for making babies.  I wished they would all leave Katrina and I alone, 
and let us watch Angela being taken instead.  IÕd never seen anyone fucked.  
It would be perfect, I thought, Angela on her knees, or on her back, 
receiving both men at once, perhaps, one plunging into her mouth while the 
other rammed himself up between her legs to her womb.  She watched me 
with expectant eyes, perhaps knowing my thoughts, perhaps not.  She 
assessed my own belly, the flatness of it, the indrawn girlishness of it.  
She gazed at my hips.  I knew she must be thinking of my behind.  It was 
small, not like hers.  Small and compact and with pert cheeks that still 
stuck out behind me with an impudent, childish air.  Would she enjoy 
seeing stripes put across my girlish bottom?  I would cry, like a baby, and 
she would discipline me like a mother.  
         ÒI havenÕt taken any birth control,Ó I blurted suddenly, remembering.
         ÒHeÕll be going up you in back, not in front,Ó Constance replied.  She 
was fastening KatrinaÕs wrist cuffs.  
         ÒBut, what if he spurts a lot?Ó I asked.  My voice was trembling but I 
felt suddenly assertive.  I did not want to get pregnant.  Not at 14.  I 
wanted to see Angela get pregnant.
         ÒDo you have any pills?Ó Angela asked Svetlana with a toss of her 
head.  Svetlana was drawing circles on AngelaÕs right nipple with lipstick.
         ÒYes, IÕll get some,Ó Svetlana replied.  She left off painting AngelaÕs 
nipple and went to the dresser.  Returning, with the pill plus a glass of 
water, she said, ÒGive it to her.  It will look pretty, your feeding it to her.  
Would you like to whip her also?Ó
         ÒYes,Ó Angela answered.  ÒIÕd like that very much.Ó
         Angela walked over to me.  I was trembling.  She bade me open my 
mouth.  ÒStick out your tongue,Ó she said.  I did.  She placed the pill on my 
wet tongue and Dielle snapped our picture.  Then Angela made me drink the 
water.  She held it for me.  
         ÒDo either of you girls have to pee?Ó Svetlana asked us.  ÒYou may be 
tied down awhile.  I donÕt want you peeing on the bed.Ó
         ÒCanÕt we even get up to pee, if we have to?Ó Katrina asked with 
anxious eyes.
         ÒIÕd prefer not to give you a bathroom break in the middle of your 
whipping,Ó Svetlana said.  ÒConstance, pull out the chamber pot.  I want 
both these girls to pee so we wonÕt be bothered with their bladders when 
weÕre trying to get some good photos of them and the men.Ó
         ÒAnd me,Ó Angela said, tossing back her red curls, savoring my 
fright as she stood over me.
         ÒYes, and you,Ó Svetlana agreed.
         I was forced to squat over the chamber pot.  Constance helped me 
position myself and held me by my bottomcheeks as I squatted.  Katrina 
held my hand.  Dielle stepped close and took awful pictures (awful to me, 
anyway) of my pee spritzing out of my snatch.  The men watched, hard 
stallions corralled by their foley catheters, but anticipating a dinner bell.
         Katrina went after me.  The maid was called, to empty the chamber 
pot.  I wished to wait for her entrance and exit, but that was denied.
         ÒPlease get up on the bed,Ó Angela said.  She placed a hand under my 
elbow, softly, but with blazing eyes that seemed to drill right into me 
when I looked at her.
         ÒOh, canÕt we wait?Ó Katrina asked.  ÒI do not wish the maid to see 
us!Ó
         ÒNo,Ó Svetlana answered.  ÒShe is a female like you.  Doubtless she 
tasted the whip when she was young.  Get up, girls.  I do not wish to keep 
the men in suspense forever.  They are human, after all.Ó
         I heard a slapping sound.  I gave a quick glance at the men.  Their 
hands were absently slapping their thighs.  I knew what they wished most 
of all to do.  To yank on their cocks.  Right away.  Right now.  Like small 
boys who canÕt stand anymore having untended penises.  They wanted to 
just forget everything, and yank and yank and yank on thier big members 
and shoot their jism all over the floor.  Yet they were men, and waited.  I 
rose, lifting my foot up, steadying myself with one foot on the bed.  
Angela, behind me, cupped my bottom to keep me from falling.  I still wore 
the heels Constance had fitted to my feet.  I lifted my other leg.  I stood 
momentarily on the bed, feeling AngelaÕs eyes gazing at my bottom.  Then I 
tumbled to my knees.
         ÒCrawl up to the pillow,Ó Svetlana told me.  Angela helped Katrina 
mount the bed.  Katrina did not try to stand on it.  Why had I?  I didnÕt 
know.  Was it to show off my bottom, its whiteness, the glow of its 
powdered cheeks presented so neatly between the tanned skin of my back 
and my thighs?  I did not know.  I kneed my way to the head of the bed and 
grabbed at the big pillow lying there.  I pressed my face into it.  I wanted 
to hide.  I wanted to be an ostrich.  Behind me I felt my hiney lift up, high 
into the air.  I wiggled it.  I kissed my pillow.  I felt so open, exposed.  It 
was erotic.  I wished one of the men would leap on the bed, accept my 
invitation, and thrust himself between my legs and take me right then, in 
my pussy, where I needed it.  The whip would be skipped.  My ass would be 
spared.  I would save myself, with just a soft wiggling invitation of my 
bare bottom to the men.  
         ÒStretch out your arms,Ó I heard Angela say.  I lifted my face from 
my pillow.  I felt a warm bump on my hip and realized Katrina had taken 
her place beside me.  I waited for one of the men to jump behind me and 
spoil SvetlanaÕs plans.  But neither one did.  Angela drew my wrists out 
for me.  She took a rope from Constance and quickly, expertly, tied my 
wrists to the headboard.  Katrina, beside me, extended her arms and 
waited.  Did she want it?  This?  I didnÕt know.  I didnÕt know anything 
anymore.  Perhaps she didnÕt either.  I felt the coolness of the air of the 
room on my fanny and wished again that one of the men, it didnÕt matter 
which anymore, would save us both.  Or at least me.  I waggled my ass.  I 
was lewd, indecent, saucy.  I wanted.  I felt Angela open my legs with her 
hands.  I blinked.  My wrists were bound, secure.  Now she wished me more 
vulnerable in back.  
         ÒThatÕs it.  Show your slit, your little purse,Ó Angela said.  ÒIÕll try 
not to bite it with the whip.Ó  A camera clicked.  I heard Dielle try to 
suppress a giggle and fail.
         ÒVery good, Cindy,Ó Svetlana complimented me.  ÒYou are truly a 
perfect submissive.  I thought you might balk, being so young.  But you hold 
the pose like a pro.  Have you fantasized of this, hmmm?Ó
         ÒNo,Ó I said truthfully.  But then I remembered myself on my bed at 
home, sometimes, hearing my father tramp up the stairs, his feet heavy 
with sleep.  He would be going to his bedroom, with my mother, talking so 
casually, yet I knew what they must do together beind that closed, locked 
door.  I would think of his strong hands and his broad shoulders and the 
belt he wore around his waist.  I would wish IÕd done something bad, so he 
might have to visit me, in my bed, before he went to bed with my mother.  
Once I reached back behind myself and actually pulled down my pajama 
bottoms, hearing him come up the stairs.  He was alone that night.  My 
mom was downstairs, playing a late game of cards with some friends.  
Lady friends, and it was just me and dad upstairs, me in my bed and my 
daddy coming upstairs.  By then I was too old to be tucked into bed 
anymore, yet I wished he might tuck me in.  But my door was locked.  They 
had let me put a lock on my door when I turned 12.  I heard my fathers 
footsteps pass my door.  I heard the door to his bedroom close.  
         Now I was presented once again, like before, except this time my 
wrists were tied and I didnÕt have pajama pants ringing my knees that 
could, if my hands were untied, be pulled up.  Instead my knees and legs 
were bare and the nightie was pinned up behind me, showing all I had to 
show.  I felt the sheer fabric of it sliding down my back and knew even 
that was now practically useless.  I glanced at the nightstand beside the 
bed.  The tissue box waited, a tissue already pulled up from within it and 
ready to be used.
         We whimpered, Katrina and I.  We were both made to show our figs.  I 
felt a wetness glistening within mine and wondered what kind of weird 
slut I was to allow myself to be gotten into such a compromised position.  
Collared, ÔdressedÕ in a nightie, with a pink bow adorning my head as if I 
were a small girl sitting primly in Sunday School.  Or a girl at the prom, 
but I was too young for the prom.  And too young for this too, I knew, 
though I had no idea how I could get myself out of it now.  I opened my lips 
to speak as I felt Constance put a knee on the bed beside my face.  Before I 
could utter a sound she wreathed a black cloth across my lips.  It was 
soft, but she wedged it deep in my mouth.  I almost gagged on it.  It forced 
back my tongue.  My mouth was opened into a rictus, with the cloth 
dividing my lips.  I looked like a fish caught on a hook.  Dielle took my 
picture.  My eyes gaped as I felt Constance tie off the gag in the nesting of 
my hair at the back of my neck.  
         A moment later and Katrina and I were both silenced and suitably 
posed.  There was nothing more to be done, by way of preparation.  I had 
my pill, Katrina was already on the pill.  The men waited, their cocks 
stemming.  I could not see them but I sensed an eagerness on their part to 
see us whipped.  I prayed it would not be hard.  IÕd never been whipped.  I 
suspected Katrina hadnÕt been either.  What would it be like, I wondered, 
even as my tummy knotted in fear and wished that my teddy bear might 
save me, if the men couldnÕt.  I pictured him flying through the window, a 
brave little teddy bear, like the brave little toaster in the video IÕd 
watched when I was 6.  HeÕd fly in and save me.  
         ÒEarnest!Ó I breathed into my gag.  It was the name of my teddy bear.  
He could not hear me.  My lips kissed the pillow beneath my face.  
         ÒOh, but it has so many thongs!Ó I heard Angela gasp, somewhere 
behind me.  
         ÒYes, each one is made of a small knot of leather,Ó Svetlana told our 
mistress-to-be.  ÒThey will feel like a flight of bees connecting with 
their bottoms when you swing it,Ó Svetlana said.  ÒTheir bottoms should 
pinken right up.Ó
         ÒHow many strokes?Ó Angela asked.  Her voice was casual.  I 
imagined her fingers accepting the implement in her hands and reaching 
out to feel its dangling tips.
         ÒAs many as they can manage,Ó Svetlana replied.  
         ÒDo you wish me to draw?Ó Angela said.  Her voice sounded sexy, 
inspired perhaps by what she could do to us.  Her nervousness at seeing the 
cat was gone.  The cat.  The word resounded in my mind like a bullet 
suddenly lodged and trapped in my skull but not yet spent.  The cat.  IÕd 
seen them in Pirate movies but never imagined IÕd be subjected to one.  
Least of all on my bottom!  I pulled at my bonds.  Beside me, Katrina gave a 
gagged whimper and yanked at the headboard of the bed with her wrists.  
It was no use.  We were both tied.  IÕd seen a woman once, in a Pirate 
movie, her dress opened in back and the cat used to threaten her.  They had 
not struck her.  They had ordered her to tell all she knew, but she 
wouldnÕt, and just then the hero arrived and saved her.
         ÒDo not close your legs, Katrina,Ó I heard Constance say.  There was 
a slap.  Flesh against flesh.  Katrina gave a yelp and there was movement 
beside me.  ÒThere, thatÕs better,Ó Constance murmured.
         ÒShe wants it already, give it to her,Ó Svetlana said to Angela.  
         ÒNo!Ó Katrina shrieked, but her voice was so muffled they could not 
hear, or if they did they didnÕt care.
         ÒFor GodÕs sake whip them if youÕre going to,Ó Dave growled.  ÒI can 
barely stand looking at the sight of their bare taunting asses!Ó
         ÒOh, my, Dave feels taunted my you, Katrina,Ó Angela laughed.  ÒDo 
you wish to tease him into saving you?  Hmmm?  How naughty!Ó  I heard a 
rustling sound, as of cat-tails sweeping across a bare back.  AngelaÕs 
back.  Then, suddenly, there was a whistling beside me and Katrina yelped 
for all she was worth.  I felt her knees bounce on the bed beside me.  ÒAnd 
you, Cindy, do you want your ass saved too?Ó I heard.  There was another 
whistling, as of bees in flight.  Suddenly I shrieked.  My bottom felt stung 
all over and I rocked forward, then back, on my knees.  My cheeks wobbled 
under the blow and clenched.  I felt my knees draw quickly across the bed 
and my thighs snapped shut behind me.  
         ÒI told you not to close your legs!Ó I heard Angela say.  Another 
swing, the cat whistling again behind me, and then my bottom sizzled 
under a thousand buzzing, stinger-laden bees.  They caressed me quite 
painfully all over my cheeks.  I screamed.  Despite my clamped thighs, the 
bees managed to squirrel into the furrow of my behind.  
         Katrina screamed beside me.  Bees assailed her as my bottom flexed 
and opened.  I gasped.  I felt tears plop onto my pillow.  My cheeks were 
wet.  The lips of my sex were wet.  My bottom flamed.
         ÒOPEN your legs!Ó Angela shouted.  Again the cat bit me.  I howled.  
Crying, I spread my legs, and immediately she struck me again.  The pain 
was unbearable.  The bees found their way into the depths of my furrow 
and one of them kissed my anus.
         ÒAughghggh!Ó I cried.  But the gag kept me silenced.  I heard the door 
to the bedroom open.  Beside me Katrina let out a shrill wail.  Despite my 
pain I turned my head.  Was it my teddy bear?  The maid!  I felt new tears 
burst from my eyes and roll down my cheeks.  She looked at me.  I hoped 
for pity in her eyes, but saw none.  She grinned, instead.  It was the first 
time IÕd seen her grin.  She was missing a tooth.  I gasped.  Could she see 
the whiteness of my teeth over my gag?  It divided my lips.  My teeth were 
white, perfect.  The cat connected suddenly with my bottom and I gaped at 
her.  My lips curled back in a grimace and I showed her my teeth, all of 
them, and then a scream escaped from my throat.  
         I buried my face in my pillow.  I must have closed my legs again, for 
I heard Angela yelling at me to open them.  I wriggled my hot bottom, 
mournfully.  Somehow I managed spread my knees.  I showed my fig, my 
slit.  I shook my hot bottom like a dog shakes himself when emerging from 
water, hoping to shake off the pain of the cat.
         ÒA hard one now, on each of them, to make them completely 
submissive for the men,Ó I heard Svetlana say somewhere behind me.  Who 
could she mean, I wondered.  Us?  We were already getting it har--
         ÒYEEEEEEEEK!Ó I shouted at the top of my lungs.  My face flew up 
from my pillow.  I heard the maid laugh.  There was a sloshing, as of the 
chamber pot being lifted, so she could empty my pee.  I ground my knees 
into the sheet of the bed and swung my bottom about like a hussy looking 
for two-dollar johns.  I wept.  I drew in my ass cheeks and pushed them 
out.  I worked my bottom, trying to get rid of the pain, quite unable to.  I 
heard Katrina let out a bansheeÕs wail beside me.  The bed was big but it 
seemed to rock under our efforts.  Then I felt new movement behind me.  
Heavy, substantial.  The bed dipped behind me and I felt something like a 
big flagpole slap against my buttocks.
         ÒNO!Ó I shouted.  My gag kept me quiet, except inside my head.  I felt 
fingers parting the cheeks of my ass.  They were blunt, large.  I felt oil on 
their tips and suddenly they were rudely intruding, or trying to, into the 
ring of my anus.
         ÒBe still girl, I have to lubricate your hole,Ó I heard a gruff voice 
say.  Dave!  No!  I expected Steven and was being given Dave!  But he was 
the biggest, and I the very littlest!  Beside me I heard Katrina give a yelp.  
         ÒHold still,Ó SteveÕs voice said.  It was gentle, almost afraid.  Dave 
was anything but that.  He ground a finger into my anus and somehow 
managed, with a pained cry from me, to get it in me up to the first 
knuckle.  I felt like I had a big walnut pushed into my bottom.  
         Angela appeared beside me.  I felt her fingers as they ran through my 
hair, heard her voice.  It was soft now.  Whisper-like.  ÒYes, dear, you did 
very well,Ó Angela said.  I imagined her big bosoms hanging off her chest, 
their nipples sweetly lipsticked.  Suddenly I turned my head and, though I 
was gagged, I sought for the solace of one of her tits.
         ÒOh, she wants to nurse!Ó Angela laughed.  ÒMay I nurse her, 
Svetlana?Ó Angela asked.
         ÒShe might bite you,Ó Svetlana replied.
         ÒNo, she wonÕt, will you, dear?  YouÕll be too busy with Dave for that, 
hmmm?  Oh, I DO want to nurse you!  Let me get your gag off!  IÕll nurse you 
while youÕre fucked.  It will help settle your nerves.Ó  Angela reached for 
the knot of my gag behind my head.  ÒItÕs her first time,Ó she said aloud, to 
the maid.  The maid only grinned.  She was still missing her tooth.
         My gag was loosed.  ÒOH, DONÕTTTT!Ó I cried immediately.  But Angela 
at once put my lips to her nipple and made me suck it.  I tasted lipstick on 
my tongue.  I did feel comforted, but then Dave yanked the cheeks of my 
ass apart and bumped something long and very hard up against my anus.  I 
knew it couldnÕt be his finger.  It was way too big for that.  
         ÒUnnnfff!Ó I groaned.  I felt a stab in my anus.  A stab from a very 
wide, blunt instrument.  It was slick with oil and grease.
         ÒCome on, open up for me,Ó Dave said, rather distressed.  ÒGod damn 
if that foley catheter wasnÕt bad enough, now IÕve got to break in a virgin.  
Ouch!  Quit pulling on my balls!Ó  He cried.  I realized Dave must still be 
wearing his leash.  Perhaps Svetlana was pulling on it.
         Oh, how my bottom burned!  My cheeks were all aflame and now, to 
make matters worse, Dave was trying to fuck me!  I felt his penisÕs 
knobbed head press harder at my rosehole.  Angela pressed my face to her 
bosom, urging me to suck.  I mouthed her nipple.  I ground my mouth into it 
as I felt Dave assault me more deeply from behind.
         ÒYes, IÕm starting to go in, just a little,Ó Dave grunted to himself.
         ÒSettle down and quit wiggling your ass so much,Ó I heard Steve say 
to Katrina.  
         ÒWider, dear.  He wonÕt hurt you.  Svetlana wonÕt let him,Ó Angela 
told me, clutching me to her breast.  ÒThatÕs why she has him leashed.  A 
quick poke is all she really wants, a nice shot of him stuck in you, with 
his shaft sticking out of you, half in, half out.  Perhaps sheÕll even settle 
for just the head.  Let him get that at least into you, so we can all end this 
more quickly.Ó  Angela stroked my blonde hair as she spoke to me.  I 
sobbed.  My tears speckled the skin of her breast.
         ÒGod damn, IÕm going in!!!Ó I heard Steve shout.
         ÒWhy do I get stuck with the virgin?Ó Dave complained.  He gave me 
another deep poke but my cherry hole still resisted him.
         ÒSheÕs virgin too, arenÕt you, Katrina?Ó Steve asked hopefully.  But 
Katrina only whimpered in reply.
         DielleÕs camera clicked.  The maid laughed.  I heard her leave with 
the tub of sloshing pee.  My pee, and KatrinaÕs.  She would empty it for us.  
I felt my dew sprinkle the sheets.  A wave of intense pleasure passed 
through me.  I gasped.  
         ÒSheÕs orgasming!Ó Angela cried.
         ÒOh, catch it!Ó Svetlana told Dielle.  More clicks of the camera as I 
swooned.  I felt a rude finger press between my legs and search for my 
spot.
         ÒYes, girl, have your orgasm, it will make it easier for me to get 
myself up you,Ó Dave said encouragingly.  I felt my bottom open wider.  I 
shouted, suddenly, in the throes of my pleasure.  He was within!  I felt like 
a giant cucumber was suddenly in me!  I gasped.  I felt all the air being 
driven from my lungs.  Dave worked a finger hard in my slit.  I came again, 
wetting his digit, feeling him slide even deeper inside me.
         ÒOh!  Oh!  Oh!Ó Katrina cried beside me.  She was cumming to!  We 
were doves, cooing for our masters.  They rodded us, skewering us with 
their penises.  Our roasted bottoms were forced open.  
         ÒNo, donÕt squeeze!Ó I heard Steve cry.  Katrina kept up her chorus of 
pretty ÔOhÕs.Õ  I heard Dielle scurry to the other side of the bed.  
         ÒAh, all is lost,Ó Svetlana said.  She must have seen his cock flexing, 
half in and half out of Katrina (surely he could not be all the way up her!).  
The cock ring, the ball ring proved inadequate in the moment of need.  
         And then me!  At first I thought I was having diarrhea!  A great 
wetness flooded me and I heard Dave, mounted behind me, let out a groan.  
It was both of disappointment and relief.  He had just the head of his cock 
in me, but my squeezings had undone him.  He shot himself into my virgin 
hole.  I felt his seed leaping up in me.  I clenched my passage hard.  I did 
not wish to be inundated with his sperm.  I feared he might make me 
pregant, somehow.  Yet the squeezings that kept back his cock could not 
keep out his seed.  It got up me somehow and flooded me hard.  I gasped.  I 
sucked upon AngelaÕs tit, hoping somehow she could save me.  She stroked 
my hair.
         ÒThere, there, your first fuck, and in such an unlikely place,Ó Angela 
said.  She seemed aroused by my ordeal.  I felt her hips arch forward 
beneath me.  My face was suddenly lifted from her breast, lowered.  My 
lips grazed her tummy.  It was smooth, indrawn a little, and she pushed me 
past her navel down toward her bush.
         ÒNo!Ó I cried.  I smelled the perfume of her pubic hair.  She offered 
me her bush.  I found myself licking it, exploring her nest with my tongue.
         ÒYes, darling.  Lick me like you licked Katrina.  Make me cum,Ó 
Angela urged.  She pushed my face between her legs and made me lick her 
directly on her fuzzed slit.  ÒMmmm, please, right there.  Right THERE!Ó 
Angela squealed.  I must have found her spot for she shoved her hips even 
more urgently in my face.
         ÒAhhh, they are all cuming now,Ó Svetlana said.  ÒIt is a perfect 
ending.  Catch it all, Dielle!Ó
         ÒI am maÕam!Ó Dielle answered.  

         I lay disconsolate on the bed.  Constance offered me lemonade but I 
refused.  My bottom was sore.  I had to lie on my tummy to keep my fanny 
turned to the air.  Katrina lay beside me.  Her hands were between her 
legs, though, and I suspected she was pleasing herself with her fingers.  
She squirmed, sighed.  I kept my hands pressed to the sheets, palms down, 
next to my thighs.  
         Angela sat on the bed beside me.  ÒIÕm going to put cream on your 
bottom to help it heal,Ó Angela murmured.  I heard a squirt, gasped as a 
cold dollop of cream hit my bottom.  I heard the click of a camera.  Was 
nothing sacred?  ÒThere.  There,Ó Angela said quietly.  I stiffened as her 
fingers touched my ass.  Very lightly she stroked it.  I shivered, pressed 
my face to my pillow.  It was wet from my tears.  ÒThe whipping helped 
you,Ó Angela told me.  ÒWithout it, think how hard it would have been for 
Dave to get himself up you.Ó
         ÒI hate you,Ó I replied, but my pillow muffled my words. 
         ÒMy, are you two rising already?Ó I heard Svetlana ask.  The men, 
Dave and Steve, were strutting around the room, comparing notes on our 
bottoms.  
         ÒWe still have you to do, donÕt we?Ó Dave asked.  ÒGod, it feels good 
to be out of that fucking cock ring!  DonÕt ever put one of those things on 
me again!Ó
         ÒI want both you boys to put on your pants,Ó Svetlana said.  ÒIÕm 
sorry, but the partyÕs over.  Perhaps IÕll invite you all back again 
sometime.Ó
         ÒI thought we were going to stay all night?Ó Steve asked.  His voice 
was high, hopeful.  Boyish.
         ÒWhat, donÕt you get any except here at my place?Ó Svetlana teased.  
ÒI reserve the *right* to keep you all night, dear.  But youÕve all performed 
wonderfully.  I do have other things to do besides orchestrate your sexual 
satisfaction, even if I do get to take photos of it.  Such a penis.  Try to get 
it into your pants, Steven.  IÕm closing up shop for today.  Perhaps we can 
do it again.Ó
         Constance went to work on KatrinaÕs bottom.  Katrina played with 
her slit.  Her own slit, masturbating.  Angela told me I could play with 
mine while she creamed me, but I refused.  I did not want to be thought a 
slut.  No one stopped Katrina.  I thought perhaps Svetlana would, for it was 
obviously not going to help the men get into their pants.  But she didnÕt 
and, at her insistence, both men did their best to get into their trousers.  I 
listened to KatrinaÕs soft cries.  My bottom began to feel a warm glow 
spread across it.  The sting of the whip was transforming itself.  I sighed.  
I wriggled my bare hips against the bed.
         ÒYes, it is not so bad, hmmm?Ó Angela asked me.  ÒNot so bad after 
all.Ó  She patted my bare fanny.  She rose from the bed.
         
         I dressed.  I gave back my nightie.  I did not wish to keep it, though 
Svetlana said I could.  IÕd had enough of that nightie.  It had left my bottom 
exposed and IÕd paid an awful price for that.  
         I got on my miniskirt, wincing as I zipped it.  I didnÕt dare try to get 
into my panties.  Svetlana smiled.  
         ÒMay I have them?Ó she asked.  I looked at her, at my undies.  
         ÒYouÕre strange,Ó I said.  I gave her my panties.  She put them to her 
nose and sniffed them.  
         ÒMy customers will pay top dollar for these,Ó she said.
         ÒOh!Ó I gasped.  I could bear no more.  Svetlana handed my flower-
printed panties to Constance.  
         ÒPut them in a bag,Ó Svetlana said.  ÒTo preserve their scent.Ó
         ÒYes, maÕam,Ó Constance said.  She took my panties over to the 
dresser and opened the drawer and took out a small Ziplock baggie.
         ÒLetÕs go, dear,Ó Angela said to me.  She took my hand.
         ÒI want my panties back,Ó I told her.
         ÒNever mind.  TheyÕll be the delight of someone forever,Ó Angela 
assured me.
         ÒSome pervert,Ó I said.
         We left the bedroom.  It was dark in the hall, compared to that room 
with all its photographers lights in it.  I was thankful for the shadows.  
We went downstairs, my hips wobbling uncertainly as I walked.  I carried 
my heels.  I was too unsteady to walk in them.  My cunt was sore and my 
bottom ached.  Katrina carried her shoes.  We wore scorched, opened.  Yet 
my dell was still virgin, and the men knew it.  Dave cast me a sidelong 
glance.  I stuck out my tongue at him.
         ÒWe could play some more, back at HeloiseÕs,Ó he said.
         ÒNot in my ass,Ó I replied.  I stuck out my tongue at him.
         ÒNo, no.  Not in your ass,Ó Dave agreed.  I gave him a frown and he 
laughed.  The front of his pants was bulging, but he was not so desperate 
anymore.
         ÒShe is not your slave, dear,Ó Angela told Dave.  
         ÒSure, I know,Ó Dave said.
         The maid let us out the front door.  I did not look at her as we left.  
Outside, the sun was almost gone.  Long shadows stretched across the 
street.  In the park across the street the children were playing, but I 
couldnÕt see them anymore, in amongst the shadowed trees.  I could only 
hear them.  

30

----------------------- Dreamgirls -----------------------
-Back issues (and stories):  type
http://www.dejanews.com/
into your browserÕs ÒLocationÓ window. Press your ÒreturnÓ key.
Click on ÒPower SearchÓ in the middle of the screen.  Next,
Type in:  roller666@earthlink.net   in the box that appears.
Click on ÒfindÓ (the button to the right of the box).

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

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