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Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
SULTRY SPRING
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Chapter Four
ÒIt is the purpose of a cathouse,Ó Monique said.
ÒOh, do not use that word. I do not like that word,Ó my aunt replied.
We sat in her living room, sipping tea. Monique drank with her hair falling
into her eyes, lifting her cup through her sweetly disordered mane and
blowing on the tea, then dipping it with the utmost delicacy.
ÒThe reason you do not like the word is because you have been fed
media-distorted images with it,Ó Monique said. She drank, she put down
her cup on the lace doily on the table next to her chair. She blinked, as if
surprised by the heat of the tea that washed down her throat. ÒAnd,
admittedly,Ó she said after a moment, ÒSome of my kind have been crass
in their management of such places.Ó
ÒWho wants to be a whore?Ó I said. ÒI donÕt.Ó
ÒYou are both young, healthy girls. And you have no need for money,
which makes it even better,Ó Monique said. ÒI adore rich girls. They are
well brought up and when they choose to do it, to work for me, it is as
much to spite mummy or dad as to earn any money.Ó
ÒIÕm independent,Ó my aunt said. She lifted her tea to her lips and
drank.
ÒIÕm only 13,Ó I said.
ÒI am well aware of your age, Chloe,Ó Monique said. ÒAnd you were a
smashing success the other evening. Truly smashing.Ó
ÒThanks,Ó I said. I wiggled in my chair. I reached for my tea. ÒBut
that was only an experiment,Ó I told her.
ÒIn a properly run cathouse,Ó Monique said, her eyes flashing at my
aunt, daring her to forbid her use of the word, Òthings are not like in times
past.Ó She brushed back her hair, but it fell immediately over her eyes
again. It had a ÔdistressedÕ look. It was the latest style. ÒConsider, if you
will,Ó Monique said. ÒWe shall have a party this Friday. ItÕs name is a
Sensuality Soiree.Ó She laughed. ÒRather a nice name, donÕt you think? I
made it up myself. But perhaps I should simply call it a Sensuality Party.
One can overdo alliteration. We will be naked, of course. Fashionably
naked. We are young, Rebecca. Men age very well, but you and I both know
that we must bite from the apple, as women, when we are young.Ó She
brushed at her hair again, not really intending to get it out of her eyes, but
rather, I thought, enjoying its length, the freedom with which she could
wear it, long and mussed, like that of a girl child, fresh from playing
outside. ÒThe point will not be to simply meet the men, let them pick
from among us, and then to spread our legs for them. That was the old-
fashioned way. There was, I suppose, a certain wonderfully rude
directness in it, but today things are much more sophisticated than that.
No, we shall be fashionably nude, and we shall party. And we will enjoy
ourselves. The men will be as naked as we, and there will be no rush to
the bedroom. Instead we shall play and party in the nude, and woe to any
man who should become too excited by it all.Ó
My aunt shifted in her chair. I could tell she was inspired by the
decadence of MoniqueÕs words. My aunt always found herself drawn to the
strange, the unusual.
ÒAnd I shall be a whore?Ó my aunt asked.
ÒNo. Not if you find the word unsuitable,Ó Monique said. ÒYouÕll be a
paid escort. And you will be entirely within the safety of my house,
Rebecca. I do not know the men we will be meeting. I have a phone
number, thatÕs all. Imagine if you had to go meet them somewhere. Or be
picked up by them, even from your house. Imagine the danger inherent in
that. But in my home, as I like to call it, you will be protected. You will
be able to meet and enjoy these men, and be well paid by them, of course.
They are not fat or old, that much I know. I told them point-blank, ÔIf you
are too old or too fat, it does not matter that youÕve made a deposit with
me, to reserve the services of my girls. You will not be allowed in, and
your deposit will not be refunded. Because of the time you wasted, lying
to me and making me create all my preparations.Õ They assured me they
were not fat or old.Ó She smiled. ÒOf course, they might be as old as Bill
Clinton, but that is not terribly old, do you think?Ó
ÒNo,Ó my aunt said, sipping her tea again. ÒNot for a man.Ó
ÒWell, IÕm not too old,Ó I said. ÒI like parties.Ó
ÒVery good,Ó Monique smiled. There was triumph in her eyes. ÒAnd
you, Rebecca?Ó
ÒOh, I cannot decide,Ó my aunt declared, after considering it a
moment.
ÒThen that is decision enough, for a female,Ó Monique said. ÒI shall
expect you promptly, Rebecca. The men are paying to be with us, you know.
Do not be fashionably late as you might be to an ordinary party. Here there
is nothing to be gained by it, for you simply will upset the other girls by
making them do your work for you.Ó
ÒI donÕt need the money,Ó my aunt said. I sensed a note of defiance
in her voice. She set down her teacup.
ÒThen that is the best of all,Ó Monique said. ÒThe very best. Of
course I will insist on paying you, my dear, or donating your money to a
charity?Ó
ÒWell,Ó my aunt said.
Monique laughed. ÒDo you have a paper and pen? Let me write down
what you are to wear.Ó
ÒOh, and one other thing,Ó Monique said, when we had finished
talking, and we stood at the door, my aunt helping her to don her coat.
ÒYou are aware that there are more sensations than merely that of
pleasure, are you not, Rebecca?Ó
ÒHmmm?Ó my aunt asked.
ÒIt is a Sensuality Party, or Soiree, if you like, and we will of
course enjoy all the senses, and in various ways, not merely those of
formal, direct pleasure,Ó Monique said. She finished shrugging on her coat.
She turned and my aunt placed a hand on the doorknob to our front door to
open it. ÒI told the men this also, so they would not be alarmed by what I
required of them.Ó
ÒI--Ó my aunt said. She twisted the doorknob.
ÒI mean you will feel pain, Rebecca,Ó Monique said. She spoke the
words in a soft, calm voice. My auntÕs hand on the doorknob froze.
ÒYou look troubled?Ó Monique said. Her voice, still soft, lilted up at
the end, making her sentence a question. ÒYou have never had a tooth
pulled, a bone broken?Ó
ÒN-No,Ó my aunt said, her hand riveted to the doorknob.
ÒYou see, we live in pampered times,Ó Monique said. There was a
note of disappointment in her voice. ÒHumans were not meant to be so
pampered,Ó she said. ÒHowever, without giving up our civilized ways, we
can make up for this loss of sensation, the errant pain, the unexpected
calamity. I have a special room where we shall party. It is well equipped.
There you will find, or, rather, the men will find, much to their
amazement and animal pleasure, a wide assortment of articles whose
purpose is to deliver pain. Everything from knouts to paddles to light and
heavy bats. I do not wish for you to feel excessively troubled by it. I
shall remain always in charge. But the men will never forget being invited
into such a place, and given a certain degree of liberty.Ó She smiled. ÒI
aim to please, Rebecca. It is my specialty, my trade. Put your trust in me
and I will show you a truly exquisite evening, exploring all the senses, and
you will not be harmed by it.Ó
ÒY-Yes,Ó my aunt stammered. She twisted the doorknob. She opened
the door. A chill wind blew in. Spring was as yet diffident, the air warm
one day, chilly the next.
Monique, cloaked in her coat against the wind, leaned forward and
kissed my aunt, who wore only a thin dress. My auntÕs nipples perked and
showed as twin points in her dress as MoniqueÕs kiss lingered. Finally
their faces parted. My auntÕs cheeks were flushed, but MoniqueÕs were
still pale.
ÒYou shall come?Ó Monique asked.
ÒYes,Ó my aunt breathed. Her breath trembled. Her breasts, bra-less
under her dress, shook.
ÒYes, you shall come, for I have got your curiosity up now, havenÕt
I?Ó Monique said. She let her eyes drop to my auntÕs chest. My auntÕs
blush deepened.
ÒAnd one other thing, Rebecca,Ó Monique said. ÒYou seem still a
little naive to me, so I suppose I will have to say it. And it is well that
Chloe can hear this also. Do not expect any love or romance to result from
our liaisons with these men. They are not paying to meet wives. They
wish simply to enjoy themselves, and to depart in the morning with
depleted balls. IÕm sorry if I must describe it so crudely. Any love or
affection must be between ourselves, as females. The men are simply
there to use us, and to perhaps be used a little. It is a physical thing, this
party, Rebecca. It is about bared flesh and pinpricks of pleasure. Pleasure
delayed, denied. Pleasure fulfilled. And pain also, as I have said, mixed in
with pleasure to create a daring new experience that is unique.Ó She
kissed my aunt again. Then she turned and grasped the door and flung it
completely open, and stepped out into the cold air. She did not look back.
Instead, with confident steps, she walked to her car and got in and drove
away. Both my aunt and I were left in awe at her self-confidence, her
poise, her absolute control over herself. In contrast we seemed artless
and nervous, uncertain and uneasy.
ÒClose the door, auntie. The wind is cold,Ó I said, finally, still
staring down the driveway which now lay empty. MoniqueÕs car was a
distant sound amidst the hills.
ÒY-Yes,Ó my aunt said. With nervous fingers she pushed the door
shut.
ÒAre we going, auntie?Ó I asked.
ÒI-I donÕt know,Ó my aunt offered. But I knew better. ÔNoÕ was
definite with my aunt, but ÔI donÕt knowÕ meant yes. My aunt liked things
that made her feel confused and flustered. They beckoned; they drew upon
the strings of her curiosity. In the end she always opened herself to them.
ÒI want to wear my bikini,Ó I said.
ÒMonique has written down what we are to wear,Ó my aunt replied.
The intervening days passed. They were uneventful. I sunned myself
in the corner of the porch where the sunÕs rays could reach me, but the
wind was blocked by a wall of our house. It was fun, lying there, feeling
the warmth and security of the sun, with the wind whistling its chill tune
just beyond the wallÕs edge. I liked the sense of safety and danger
intermixed. The one was worthless, it seemed to me, without the other. I
ate lollipops and dreamed of what would happen to us at MoniqueÕs party.
How odd it was to think of it while lying safe behind my auntÕs house,
where no one could touch me.
My aunt shopped to pass the time. Sometimes I went with her but
sometimes I stayed home by myself. She bought new clothes, then she
complained that her closets were not big enough to hold them all. My aunt
would have died, I think, if there had been no mall for her to shop in.
ÒAuntie, why must we dress if we are going to be naked?Ó I asked.
It was the night of the party. I stood with my aunt in her bedroom, pulling
leg warmers on my legs. They were long. They stretched from my ankles
all the way to my thighs. They had sparkles sewn into them. Monique had
decreed that I must wear them, plus matching fingerless gloves that could
stretch up over my elbows but were to be left bunched along my forearms,
leaving my upper arms bare. The leg warmers, in contrast, were to be kept
pulled tight. They were to frame my upper thighs and my pubis. I searched
the bed, where our things were laid out, for panties. I saw none.
ÒWe are to be both dressed and undressed,Ó my aunt answered. She
was slipping leather gloves on. They encased her fingers, her wrists, the
lower halves of her forearms. They were tight. They had small strings
along the back of each glove, up the back of the hand and the arm, that had
to be tied. My aunt held out her hands to me.
ÒPlease tie me,Ó she said.
ÒTheyÕre snug. TheyÕll stay on even if you donÕt tie them,Ó I told her.
ÒI cannot have the strings dangling. Tie them, Chloe. Tie me into
them,Ó my aunt said.
ÒYou canÕt feel anything if your fingers are bound up inside that
thick leather,Ó I told her.
ÒMonique has written that I must wear them,Ó my aunt answered.
ÒIt is-- it is, I think, so that I am forced to think about other parts of
myself. Parts that remain bare.Ó
ÒYou mean your pussy?Ó I asked, frankly.
ÒYes,Ó my aunt said. ÒAnd my tits.Ó
ÒMy gloves leave my fingers bare,Ó I said, reaching out and tying the
strings on the back of my auntÕs gloves.
ÒYou are little, Chloe,Ó my aunt said. ÒMen find a certain attraction
in little girls and how they use their fingers. Pointing, feeling, sucking.Ó
My aunt gulped.
ÒThey are wicked men, if they think of me as a little girl,Ó I
protested.
ÒWe are not to judge. Not tonight, Chloe,Ó my aunt said. ÒYou do not
have to come if you wish.Ó
ÒI already have my leg warmers on,Ó I said defensively. I finished
tying my auntÕs gloves on. She went to the bed and picked up a black
corset. It was small, meant only to enclose the waist.
ÒIs that for me?Ó I asked.
ÒNo,Ó my aunt said. ÒYou are already dressed, Chloe. Put on your
heels. Then help me into this.Ó
ÒThatÕs all?Ó I asked. ÒI canÕt have any panties?Ó My eyes scanned
the bed, forlornly. ÒLast time I got to wear my bikini,Ó I said.
ÒThis time is different,Ó my aunt answered. She fitted the corset to
her belly. She drew its ends around behind herself. ÒHelp me put this on,Ó
she said. ÒIt must be tight.Ó
ÒTight?Ó I echoed, watching her, then stepping carefully over to
where she stood.
ÒYes,Ó my aunt said. ÒSo tight I am forced to take... to take shallow
breaths,Ó my aunt said.
ÒAuntie!Ó I cried. ÒYou are making yourself a virtual prisoner in
these clothes, and yet when you are finished you will still have a bare
pussy, and bare tits!Ó
ÒIt is MoniqueÕs intention,Ó my aunt said.
ÒYou will sit very straight in the cab,Ó I said, taking hold of the
strings at the back of her corset, as she expelled her breath.
ÒI know,Ó my aunt whispered.
I had thought we would return to the same house Monique had
previously invited us to. But instead the cab which picked us up took us
along back roads to an old farmhouse. From the outside it looked
ramshackle and unkempt. A cow grazed out front. She was a solitary
figure amidst lush, unkempt grass, interspersed with trees. There was a
fence but it was broken. I did not know whether the cow was a stray that
had wandered onto the property, or the last of a herd that had long since
been sold. I wanted to pet the cow but it was raining when we arrived. My
aunt paid the driver and we hurried inside. My aunt held an umbrella over
me so I would not get wet. The wind gusted cold. Spring was reluctant
this year.
ÒAh, how delightful. You are both ready to party,Ó Monique said,
taking our coats from us. She drew them off us as we stood shivering in
the foyer. My aunt closed her umbrella and propped against the wall.
ÒIÕm not wearing any panties,Ó I said.
ÒYes, and how lovely you look, wearing just your leg warmers and
your mittens,Ó Monique said to me. She hung our coats in a closet. My
auntÕs breasts, unsupported by her narrow corset, shook with a freedom
her lungs did not have, being bound up in her corset. Her bottom and legs
were bare. Her cunt lips showed, as did the neat, small triangle of her
pubis.
ÒHow lovely your pussy is,Ó Monique said, turning to my aunt. With a
finger she prodded at my auntÕs slit.
ÒOh!Ó my aunt said. Her breasts wobbled. Her nipples, already
forming points, grew noticeably harder.
ÒYou have wet me,Ó Monique said. She drew her fingertip out from
between the clinging lips of my auntÕs sex. Delicately she lifted her
finger to her nose. She sniffed. Smelling my auntÕs desire, she smiled at
her.
ÒHow pretty you are, in your tight corset, with your bottom and
pussy bare, and your long, naked legs,Ó Monique said to my aunt. ÒAnd now
you are moistening with desire. It will be a long night, Rebecca. Do not
expect to be fulfilled soon.Ó She looked at my auntÕs feet. ÒAh, you have
chosen exactly the shoes I intended. Very good,Ó she said.
I looked at my auntÕs heels. Like those I wore, they were elaborate,
and expensive. We had spent some time getting them on. They bared the
foot but enclosed the toes, and there were three thin straps that each had
to be buckled around the lowest part of the ankle for the shoes to stay on
properly. They had high heels; if the heels had been any taller I donÕt think
I would have been able to walk in mine. They were uncomfortable, but not
excessively, being rather a source of anxiety, that one might fall, than
painful to wear.
ÒYou are discreetly hobbled by them, but still able to walk, and
hopefully to dance,Ó Monique smiled, looking at my auntÕs pumps as well
as my own. She herself wore a similar pair. I must say I felt rather silly,
having a bare, exposed pubis, and naked breasts, while my toes were so
snugly encased in such expensive shoes.
ÒThis is not the same house where we partied before,Ó my aunt said.
ÒNo,Ó Monique said. She looked up from my auntÕs feet and regarded
her breasts. She studied my auntÕs nipples as they became exceedingly
stiff. My aunt blushed. I blushed too, for my own breasts were as bare as
my auntÕs. ÒHere we shall be free to enjoy greater depravities,Ó Monique
said. ÒNobody took note of your arrival. No busybody will see you leave, or
mark your condition when you do. If our voices carry beyond the walls of
this house, if, perchance, you should scream, Rebecca, it will not be
heard.Ó
ÒThe cow will hear it,Ó I said. I felt awkward and nervous. My aunt
fidgeted beside me, despite the hard tips of her breasts.
Monique laughed. ÒYes, I suppose so,Ó she said. ÒI should send that
old sow to the slaughterhouse, as I did the rest of the herd. But she
escaped me on the day that the trucks came for the rest of the cows, so I
have let her stay. She seems not to mind her loneliness. I think sheÕs too
old to mate.Ó
I gulped. I did not like hearing that Monique had sold off the other
cows to be killed. She must have guessed my thoughts for she smiled and
said, ÒI did not buy this place to raise cattle, Chloe.Ó
We met the other girls. They were new girls, different girls from
the ones weÕd met at MoniqueÕs before. She had, I think, a wide collection
of friends, and she picked among them for her various affairs. There was
Sandy, a redhead with bright eyes who was eager to party. There was also
Darlene, a shy girl, but who burned with lust under her apprehensions.
Then there was Joy and Jill. They were both blonde, both 18. I first
mistook them for identical twins, they looked so much alike. When they
told me they werenÕt related I wondered if perhaps in the morning they
would look more distinct. The thought made me shiver. I put it out of my
mind, picturing as I did, unbidden, the two of them marked in different
ways, by a whip cruelly applied.
ÒWe shall sit and have tea while we wait for the men,Ó Monique said.
She took me by my arm. She escorted me to a sofa in her living room and
sat me beside her.
ÒIÕm frightened,Ó I blurted, still thinking of my vision of the blondes
being abused.
ÒThere is nothing to be scared of, Chloe,Ó Monique said. She picked
up a silver tea kettle off of the coffee table in front of us. She poured me
a cup of tea and forced me to take it. I sipped it. My eyes looked at her,
large pools of uncertainty. Across from my my aunt shifted on a loveseat,
squeezed between the two blondes. ÒYou will serve the men tea when they
arrive, Chloe,Ó Monique told me. ÒYou will be graceful and delicate at all
times. Smile, and do not complain if the men pinch your ass or pluck at
your nipples. Let them finger your cunt if they wish. They are to feel free
to enjoy themselves. However, if you are worried that you will be fucked,
do not be. That is an enjoyment reserved for the dawn, after the men have
shown themselves to be worthy.Ó
The farmhouse was sedate, old-fashioned. While it was well-kept
inside, in contrast to the flaking paint on its outer walls, it nonetheless
had a quaint air to it. Doilies lay neatly on the furniture, paintings of
conservative mien hung on the walls. Knickknacks competed for attention
in a corner hutch. Someone had left a half-embroidered baby sweater on a
table in the kitchen. I wondered who had lived here, why theyÕd left.
There was a faint air of dust in the rooms. Some of the furniture was
covered with white sheets.
The men came in from the rain. Monique took me to the foyer to
greet them; the other girls, including my aunt, stayed in the living room,
dolls waiting to be played with. The men smiled at my nudity. Monique
was conservatively dressed, wearing a business jacket and skirt.
ÒHello,Ó Monique said. Her voice was soft, guileless. Yet I sensed,
and I think the men sensed it too, an enormous confidence under her
modesty. She helped them out of their coats. She told me to help also; I
did, the raindrops brushing off of their coats onto my bare skin. We hung
the menÕs coats in the foyer closet.
I thought Monique would turn and lead the men into the living room
once they had their coats off. Instead, smiling at them, she reached back
behind herself. She lifted the back of her jacket. She tugged at the zipper
of her dress. A moment later her dress was undone, lying in a pool at her
ankles. She had done it herself, without any prompting from the men. She
looked at them and her eyes twinkled.
ÒGentlemen, would you care to do the same?Ó Monique asked. ÒThere
is really no need for you to feel confined during your stay.Ó
The men grinned. How could they not? She had invited them to
relieve themselves of the pressure on their loins which their pants were
undoubtedly causing. They unzipped themselves. Hastily they drew down
their pants while Monique watched, undoing the buttons on her business
jacket. She revealed a black lacy bra. It was matched by a black garter
belt. Her legs, except for sheer black stockings, were bare. Like myself,
she wore no panties. Her pubis was red, matching the hair on her head.
ÒYour underpants also, please,Ó Monique said to the men. She opened
a drawer and fished inside it. ÒI hate wearing these,Ó she said. She drew
out of the drawer a pair of glasses. They had wire-rims, looked
fashionable to me, but Monique put the glasses on with distaste showing
on her face. Then, gazing at the penises which the men now displayed,
their underpants around their ankles, she smiled. ÒOh yes. How big you all
are,Ó Monique said. ÒI hope you will not mind if I excite you a little, to
check your precum. Chloe, run to the living room and fetch the box of
kleenex on the coffee table. How silly I was not to bring it.Ó
I ran. I felt my breath heaving in my chest as I ran, and the not
disagreeable sensation of my breasts bouncing freely, unconstrained and
happy. I darted into the living room, looked once at my aunt. She sat
quietly, sipping her tea, pretending oblivion to what was going on in the
hall. I grabbed the box of kleenex. I went running back to the foyer.
What a spectacle the men made, standing there in their business
jackets, fresh from work or wherever theyÕd come from, their pants and
underpants down around their ankles. They all showed erections of
agreeable prominence, some, at least in my opinion, too big, and Monique,
wearing her glasses, excited each man with her fingers until he was able
to issue forth a discharge of precum. It was a clear fluid, not containing
sperm but a precursor to it. Monique studied each manÕs precum. When she
had finished with each one, giving the man a clean bill of health, she
smiled and nodded, and wiped her fingers on the kleenexes I passed to her.
Then she went to the next man, until she had looked at all of them. They
were surprisingly patient.
ÒVery good, gentlemen,Ó Monique said. ÒWe may now spend the
evening together. You will leave your doctorÕs certificates on the table.
Sometimes I check those too but in your case you are all so young and
healthy, and handsome, I think there is no need for it.Ó She turned to me.
ÒYou see, Chloe? It is not enough simply to ask for the certificates. You
must also do a visual inspection. Men can see a doctor in the afternoon
and be anyplace at all by evening. There are many brothels in Paris, and
not all of them are as discriminating as I am. So it is necessary to check
with your eyes, not just by asking for paperwork.Ó
Monique lifted her hands to her face, began to lift off her glasses.
ÒNo,Ó one of the men said. Monique looked at him. She blinked,
surprise showing on her face. ÒLeave them on,Ó the man said. ÒI like girls
with glasses.Ó
ÒYou wish me to wear my glasses. Shall I wear my skirt also?Ó
Monique asked. A slight blush passed into her cheeks.
ÒNo,Ó the man said.
I served the men tea. Despite the fact that they were all relatively
husky, and possessed of a gruff manner, they did not pinch me. They drank
their tea as politely as they could manage, holding the small china cups in
their big, large-fingered hands. I giggled at their awkwardness. They
were young, excited, and rudely aroused, their cocks sticking up like metal
rebars from a building left unfinished. They drank and drooled, precum
oozing from the pee slits of their penises even as they poured hot tea
down their throats.
ÒWe shall go downstairs now,Ó Monique said, when the men had drunk
their tea and began asking for liquor. She rose. She took my hand and bade
me put down the tea kettle.
The party room was downstairs, under the house. I wondered what
secrets it held as we walked down the steps into the darkness. I went
naked, clad in only my leg warmers and mittens. My aunt wore her corset,
her gloves, her elaborate heels. The men walked with their penises
standing out in front of them, both menacing and defenseless. I saw the
gleam of metal in the darkness. We would add new secrets to this room
tonight, and the thought of that made me shiver.
We clustered at the base of the stairs. Monique came down last, into
the hushed stillness of the darkened room. She felt along the wall. She
flicked on a light.
ÒOH!Ó went up from all of us, simultaneously. Even the men voiced
surprise. The room looked like it had been prepared for the Inquisition,
not a party. Yet amidst the paddles hung on the wall, the trestle with
chains affixed to its legs, the guillotine that sat in a corner, there was
also a smattering of balloons, bobbing against the ceiling, trailing long,
curling streamers. They were colored black and white. They seemed eager
to escape what we had just descended into. Perhaps they feared being
popped.
ÒDo not be alarmed,Ó Monique said. There was a wooden cane propped
against the wall and she picked it up. It was long, thin. It had a curved
handle. It was made of bamboo and the notches of the wood showed along
its length. ÒWe may play here however we like,Ó Monique said. ÒThere are
no rules, save that I am in charge. Or, rather, that I am the final authority.
I do not wish to be overbearing,Ó she smiled. She prodded the loins of the
man standing nearest her. She used the cane, driving it against his balls,
then lifting them, testing his virility by checking the size of his sac. ÒYou
look full,Ó she said, frankly. ÒDo you feel full?Ó
ÒYes,Ó the man said. His voice, husky and deep, seemed caught in his
throat, as if he were torn between speaking and gargling.
ÒGood,Ó Monique said. ÒBut you will have to have permission to
spurt. Do not expect any relief until morning. Some madams encourage
their whores to make the men cum as quickly as possible. That is not our
way here. I actually enjoy the company of men, and savor the opportunity
to put them through their paces.Ó
Monique removed her cane from the manÕs nuts. They fell, heavily,
and swung a little, but they were quite full and did not descend as a manÕs
do when he is unexcited. Instead they remained taut and ready, eager to
pump forth their cargo.
ÒNow this evening, as I have already informed you, we will be
enjoying all the senses,Ó Monique said. She put her cane to another manÕs
genitals and, with a rather absent-minded look in her eyes, lifted and
checked his balls. ÒThere will be some pain. But to let you all know that I
am a gentle woman at heart, I will first put lotion on all of your loins. It
will have a hint of paprika in it. I do not wish to give you too easy a time.
But you will, I hope, enjoy the feeling of my fingers caressing your sex,
every one of you, and you will know that I can be as loving as I can be
cruel.Ó
Monique tossed back her flame red hair. She took my hand and we
walked across the room. My feet dragged a little; she led me past
grotesque machines. They were laden with chains and straps. They hung
open, waiting to receive arms and legs within them. She took me to a big
throne. It was made of wood. It looked old; how many centuries had it sat
in this basement? There was a depression in the wood where the bottom
was to sit. I would not be the first to perch on this throne. Straps near
the floor, made of old leather, thick but sturdy, showed how oneÕs legs
might be positioned.
Monique propped her cane against the seat of the chair. She picked
up a pillow off the floor. It looked clean, new. She plopped it on the
chairÕs seat.
I saw a vision of myself in the chair, my bottom softly cradled by
the pillow but my legs opened wide, my sex held agape like a turkey
waiting to be stuffed. The party would center on my pussy. They would
lick me, and then they would give me a licking with whips! My knees
buckled. Monique caught me, placing a hand in my belly. My breasts shook.
My legs quivered.
ÒChloe, stand up straight!Ó Monique said. I managed to regain my
balance. Then, to my great surprise, Monique handed me her slim cane.
She turned and herself sat in the throne, on the pillow. ÒPlease line up our
guests, Chloe, so that I may anoint their genitals for our party,Ó Monique
told me.
The throne had no armrests. Beside it there was a table, and atop
the table was a hotplate. It was already plugged in. Sitting on the
hotplate was a brass container. It had a plunger top. The containerÕs
sides, up to the halfway point, were encased in rubber.
Monique picked up the brass container. She cradled it in her palms
but was careful to touch only the rubber-coated parts of the container.
She opened her legs. She set the container on the edge of the throne,
where the edge of the throneÕs wooden seat jutted out beyond the pillow.
ÒWell?Ó Monique said, looking at me. I stood beside her throne,
awkwardly holding the cane she had given me. ÒLine them up, Chloe,Ó
Monique said. ÒI must anoint them.Ó
I did as I was told. The men laughed, but obeyed. Monique told the
first man in line to unbutton his shirt, so that she could admire his chest.
He did. The other men followed suit, eager to be admired also. The
females, all of them fetchingly dressed like myself and my aunt, lined up
behind the males. The might have intermingled with each other but
Monique told me to line them up men first, women following, and so I
enforced her decree with ominous swishings of the cane she had given me.
Could I actually strike someone? I didnÕt think so, and everyone
looked amused as they saw me holding MoniqueÕs cane. I felt small,
defenseless. The cane was long and obviously would hurt if it connected
with someoneÕs body. I felt like a private promoted suddenly to general, in
charge of an army and possessing nuclear weapons.
The guests waited in line before MoniqueÕs throne. The men were all
stiff. I stared at them frankly. Their penises throbbed with an
excitement I felt inside my own heart, our pulses beating together,
keeping time with each other.
Monique depressed the plunger on the brass container. She held her
palm cupped under the containerÕs spout. Fluid was discharged into her
palm. She gasped a little; I guessed the fluid was hot. Then, lifting her
hand, she applied the pool of fluid in her palm to the genitals of the man
standing first in the line before her throne.
ÒYow!Ó the man said. Monique laughed.
ÒIs it too hot?Ó she asked.
ÒAl- Almost,Ó the man said. He watched as MoniqueÕs bare hands
stroked and coated his erection with the fluid. ÒThere is a bit of paprika
mixed in with the fluid,Ó Monique said. She smiled at how stiff and rudely
erect he was. ÒIt will burn a little, but it will not harm you in any way. It
is meant to keep your thoughts focused on your dick.Ó
ÒI- I donÕt think that will be any problem,Ó the man stammered.
ÒVery good,Ó Monique said. She took her hands off his erection.
ÒNext,Ó she said.
The man stood stock still. He did not move. He stood with his penis
jutting out before him, obviously expecting additional attention from
Monique. Perhaps he thought she would suck him, or cause him to
discharge into her hands.
ÒChloe,Ó Monique said to me. ÒWould you please have this gentleman
move out of the way so that I may do the next one?Ó
I blushed. I was blushing already but now my face turned a deep red.
Somehow I managed to lift up the cane and, gathering my courage, I
prodded at the manÕs genitals, as I had seen Monique do.
The man looked at me.
ÒSir, would you please step aside?Ó I asked. The man looked
surprised. Nonetheless he stepped away from Monique, letting the next
man step forward. Monique depressed her plunger again, cupped a new
handful of oil in her palm, and applied it to the second manÕs erection.
ÒYow,Ó he said.
I walked along the length of the line. I felt a new power surging
within me. I was topless, bare-assed. My pussy felt wet between my legs.
Yet I felt confident. I tossed back my hair. When I reached my aunt,
standing in the line, I found she was a little to one side, not keeping the
line straight by the way she was standing. I lifted my cane and tapped it
against her bare bottom.
ÒAuntie, please donÕt make me hit you,Ó I warned her. My aunt
blanched. She gave me a rueful look and stood so that she kept the line
straight. I thanked her and walked on. The other girls giggled.
Monique anointed each man. When she was finished with each one his
cock glistened. They looked like well-groomed roosters, those men,
standing alongside her throne with their penises wet and dripping with oil.
Then Monique went to work on the girls. Each one she carefully coated
between her legs, rubbing oil on the lips of each girlÕs cunt. She also
reached up and fingered each girl on the nipples, anointing her tits, making
the tips of them wet.
ÒOh! It burns!Ó Jill said, as the oil, spread on her tits, began to
impart a deeper heat. She was beginning to feel the paprika.
ÒWhat a pleasant party we shall have, all of us focused on those
parts of ourselves that we normally are asked to ignore,Ó Monique said.
ÒCome, Chloe. I must do you also. Then you shall do me, and we will be
ready for other things.Ó
MoniqueÕs fingers were sensuous. They dipped up between my legs,
making me feel dizzy with pleasure. They plucked at my nipples. I was
lost in sensation as she lubricated and anointed me. My aunt held my arm.
I still held the cane, defensively, but I knew I must let Monique do with me
as she wished. When she was done I somehow managed to take her place
on the throne and do her. My aunt held my cane for me.
ÒNow we are all prepared,Ó Monique said. She gazed at us, her
nipples glowing, her cunt wet where I had delved within her and fingered
her. She shivered a little, feeling the first effects of the paprika on her
own sensitive parts. The other guests seemed half caught between
sobriety and swooning. Our eyes feasted on each other even as we felt our
own sensations coursing through us.
ÒWhat- what shall we do?Ó a man asked. He was big and strong, yet
MoniqueÕs gentle fingers had reduced him to confusion. His penis hung
before him. It was naked and pulsing, wet from its crown to its root. He
looked desperate to handle it and to relive himself on the floor.
ÒWe will have drinks, as at any normal party,Ó Monique said. ÒAnd
we shall chat. There are so many things we could do here, to each other.
We shall have to decide how to start. It will make for a pleasant
conversation, donÕt you think?Ó
ÒIs there a bathroom down here?Ó a man asked.
ÒA bathroom?Ó Monique said. ÒI hope you are not planning to have a
premature ejaculation?Ó
ÒN- No,Ó the man answered.
ÒIf you must pee you will see there is a stack of dixie cups, there on
that table,Ó Monique said. ÒPee into those. They are small cups, and only
made of paper, IÕm afraid. But they are the best I can offer you, for now.
If you have a lot of pee you will have to cut off the flow of your urine
halfway through your peeing. Please do not overflow any of the cups and
spill your pee on the floor.Ó
The men, and us girls too, looked at the cups. They were stacked on
a table, next to a bowl of punch. The table was in fact a rack, built for
stretching the human body.
ÒWhat? WeÕre supposed to pee into those?Ó a man bellowed.
ÒYes. Then pour your pee down that drain there,Ó Monique said. ÒI
suggest you use that marker there to mark a cup for yourself. Put your
initials on it, then place it on that shelf you see there, behind the table.
ThatÕs the best I can do as far as a bathroom is concerned.Ó
ÒA bunch of paper dixie cups, with our initials on them?Ó a man
asked incredulously.
ÒYes,Ó Monique said. ÒAnd I expect you all to drink a lot. We have
plenty of water, plenty of punch, and a limited supply of liquor. Be glad
you are not a girl. We will have to hold our cups close to ourselves and
pee in a rather embarrassing manner, donÕt you think, Chloe?Ó
ÒI- I guess so,Ó I said. My voice was sheepish.
ÒThere is a box of handi-wipes so we all can keep reasonably clean,Ó
Monique said. She pointed to a box of wipes. It sat at the end of the table
that held the punch bowl. ÒNow let us all have some punch, and enjoy each
otherÕs conversation,Ó Monique said. ÒThere are so many things to do here.
We shall have to make up our minds where to start, and with whom.Ó She
flashed me a smile. I shrank under her gaze. I did not smile back. My
aunt, still holding my cane, tapped my bottom.
ÒChloe, wonÕt you have some punch?Ó my aunt asked me. There was a
wicked gleam in her eyes.
ÒWe took a girl like yourself to a house last summer,Ó a man was
saying to me, sometime later, as we stood talking. He looked up at the
rafters that formed the ceiling. They were old. ÒIt was a house like this
house,Ó he said. ÒTwo friends and myself. In an old house, with a young
girl. Perhaps she thought we were in love with her but we just wanted
someone to fuck. We used her all weekend. She was quite sore by the end
of it, and a little marked too, for one of my friends had brought a whip.
Then we took her home. We dropped her off a block from her house.
Perhaps she thought weÕd call her but of course we didnÕt, she was only
13.Ó
ÒYou are such a gentleman,Ó I said. I drank punch. I wondered how I
would pee when the time came. My aunt stood beside me, still holding my
cane for me.
ÒChloe is only 13,Ó my aunt said.
ÒYes, I know,Ó the man answered. ÒAnd blonde like the girl we
fucked last summer.Ó His eyes seemed to drill into me. I stepped back,
frightened. My aunt lifted the cane and pressed it against my ass.
ÒI would like to see her fucked,Ó my aunt said.
ÒAuntie!Ó I shrieked.
ÒHere, what is going on?Ó Monique asked. She stepped away from
two men she was conversing with and walked over to us.
ÒMy auntie wants--Ó I said. My voice voice died in my throat as my
aunt gave me a quick, sharp cut on my ass. My words were replaced by a
scream.
ÒYoooooooch!Ó I shouted. I lifted up on my toes. My punch spilled
from my cup. When I regained my balance my hand flew back and rubbed
my butt. There was a hot line across my cheeks, burning upon my flesh.
ÒAuntie, that hurt!Ó I said. Tears sprang to my eyes.
ÒIÕm- IÕm sorry, Chloe,Ó my aunt said. I looked at her face and saw
frustration. The tips of her nipples were burning, her cunt smoldered, as
mine did. We were all going slowly crazy from the paprika Monique had
smeared on our privates.
ÒI want to fuck her,Ó the man who had been speaking with me told
Monique.
ÒWhat? Just like that?Ó Monique asked. Her eyes twinkled. She
looked at me, then gazed with admiration at the manÕs penis. ÒIt is too
soon for that sir, though with the dawn all things are possible.Ó She must
have known what secrets lurked deep in the manÕs heart, or perhaps she
had overheard him earlier, for she said, ÒWould you mind sharing her?Ó
ÒNo,Ó the man answered.
ÒIf I installed her in a bed and asked you to share her with two other
men, you would not be offended?Ó Monique said. Absently she reached out
and fingered the crown of the manÕs penis. She pressed a fingernail into
his pee hole.
ÒNo. Not at all,Ó the man said.
ÒGood. Then I shall remember you, and see that you get your wish,Ó
Monique said. She turned away.
ÒWhat?Ó I cried. My hand was still on my bottom, and I cupped it
defensively. Monique turned her head. She looked at me over her shoulder
and said,
ÒChloe. Enjoy yourself.Ó
ÒYou spilled your punch. Would you like me to pour you some more?Ó
my aunt asked me.
ÒI want my cane back,Ó I said.
ÒOh. I was looking for that,Ó Monique said. She walked over to my
aunt and took the cane from her. She smiled. ÒIt may come in handy.Ó
ÒI want to paddle someone,Ó a man said. He reached for one of the
paddles hanging on the wall and took it down.
ÒSir. Please put that back,Ó Monique said. ÒPaddles may be taken
down only with my permission. We have many things in this room we
might use to strike each other, but there must be order, discipline. We
girls could get hurt if you men were allowed to arm yourselves. All will
be done in due time.Ó
The man put the paddle back on its peg on the wall. I wanted to run
over and grab it but it was hanging high on the wall, and I wasnÕt sure I
could reach it. I rubbed my bottom instead. My aunt poured a new cupful
of punch for me and handed it to me. I drank. She grinned at me.
ÒAre you enjoying yourself, Chloe?Ó she asked.
ÒNot really,Ó I said.
Monique, her pussy bare but her breasts still fetchingly enclosed
inside her bra, strutted about the room. She gazed at us over the rim of
her glasses, letting them slip down her nose, giving her the appearance of
a prim librarian, though she was not looking at books but rather at all our
nude bodies. She was still the only one of us who was armed (save for the
menÕs penises), and she swished her wooden cane with a vigor that
alarmed several of the girls.
ÒWell,Ó Monique said, stopping before Joy, who stood shivering under
her gaze. Joy cupped a dixie cup full of punch with both her hands. She
sipped from it, staring back at Monique as Monique sized up her figure.
ÒHow pretty you are, Joy,Ó Monique said.
ÒThank you, maÕam,Ó Joy answered. Her voice was small, quavering.
Her bare nipples wiggled as she spoke. Monique lifted her cane and
prodded JoyÕs flat belly. She dipped the end of her cane into JoyÕs navel.
ÒYou should have that pretty belly button pierced,Ó Monique said.
ÒYes,Ó Joy nodded, obediently, looking down at herself where the
cane pressed into her stomach.
ÒBut that is for another day, Joy,Ó Monique said. ÒRight now I want
you to play a new game IÕve invented. Come, let us take a look at it. I
think you will enjoy it. Or, at least, our guests will.Ó
Monique turned. She gazed at the rest of us and tossed back her hair.
She was confident, self-assured, despite the presence in the room of half-
a-dozen men who might, at any moment, have overpowered all of us.
Somehow she held them in check, even as their lust drove them mad.
ÒNow that weÕve been introduced, at least to our genitals, it is time
for some fun,Ó Monique said. ÒFun and games. You will of course at all
times be obedient to my will. There are cathouses where men may merely
come, and cum... but this is not one of them. You will all receive your
reward in due time, but only after you have proven yourselves.Ó
With bated breath, lured by MoniqueÕs words, their tongues hanging
out metaphorically as their dicks hung out before them all stiff and
veined, the men followed Monique across the room. My aunt pressed her
palm into my back.
ÒAuntie!Ó I scolded, but Rebecca pushed me forward. I felt my bare
bottom wiggling below the pressure afforded by her palm, and the effect
of it was to make me feel exceedingly vulnerable. My only consolation
was that my aunt was herself bare-bottomed. Her breasts bounced on her
chest as her every breath was heightened by the tightness of her corset.
It allowed only shallow breaths, she had to draw in air with a conscious
effort, which made her tits wiggle. My own breasts wobbled upon my
chest, though not with such cartoonish allure as hers.
Monique reached the far end of the room. She drew back a curtain.
There, to my erotic surprise, I saw two saddles. They were mounted on a
wide pole. Piled under the pole and for some distance around it were
pillows. The pillows lay on two mattresses, which, though lying slightly
apart, would, if pushed together, join under the pole.
There was a small refrigerator plugged into the wall behind one of
the mattresses. Monique went over to it and bent down and opened it. The
tail of her business jacket lifted as she bent. She mooned us with her
bare bottom.
From the refrigerator Monique took a can of whipped cream. It was
sitting in a bowl of ice in the refrigerator. I shivered; how cold that
cream would be, refrigerated and chilled like that! Monique stepped
between the two mattresses and walked to the pole. Casually, as if
caulking a crack, a young wife doing a household chore, she squirted a
mound of chilled cream onto the seat of each saddle. She brushed back her
long hair as she did it. A small smile showed on her lips.
ÒNow,Ó Monique said, straightening up after bending to squirt cream
on each saddle. Her bosoms jiggled in her black bra. She seemed on the
verge of laughing, but managed to suppress it. ÒI need two young ladies.
Novices, preferably. Girls who would like to ride horses some day and are
willing to start tonight, by taking preliminary riding lessons indoors.Ó
My aunt licked her lips. ÒChloe will ride!Ó she offered.
ÒAuntie!Ó I protested. But the thought of riding a horse did intrigue
me.
ÒYes, wonderful,Ó Monique said. She looked at me and smiled. Then
she looked at Joy and said, ÒAnd you, dear, I nominate for lessons also.
Have you ridden a horse before?Ó
ÒNo,Ó Joy said, in a shy, but inquisitive voice.
ÒThen come here and mount up,Ó Monique told her. She looked at me
again. ÒBoth of you. Come over here. ItÕs quite safe. You will both be
elevated upon this pole, but only a few feet above the pillows. You have
nothing to fear if you fall off.Ó
Daintily I made my way between the mattresses. I felt all the eyes
in the room upon me. They watched my bare back, my bottom, my legs in
their soft leg warmers. When I reached the saddles, which were set about
two feet apart from each other on the pole, I looked down at the nearest
and said, ÒCanÕt it be cleaned off first?Ó The cream looked cold. I didnÕt
want to sit in it.
Joy for her part, reaching the other saddle at about the same time,
brushed back her long blonde hair from her face and voiced the same
complaint.
ÒThe cream will cool your hot pussies, which must be burning from
the paprika,Ó Monique said.
ÒOh, yes!Ó Joy agreed. Immediately she sat down. She plopped her
lovely bush into the cream and rubbed her cunt back and forth on the slick
saddle. ÒOoooooh!Ó she cried.
ÒOh, I must also!Ó I said, feeling a little embarrassed but delighted
to realize how useful the cream could be. I sat down in it. It oozed up
inside me. My cuntlips, spread upon it, felt delicious. I rubbed myself in
it and looked at my aunt. ÒLook, auntie! IÕm riding!Ó I called to her. But in
fact I was mostly masturbating, and trying to hide my pleasure.
ÒDoes it feel good to rub your sweet pussy against the leather?Ó
Monique asked me.
ÒYes,Ó I panted.
ÒOh, yes!Ó Joy agreed.
ÒVery well, girls,Ó Monique said. She gazed at us with approval. Our
legs dangled down from the saddles. Our knees were about a foot above
the pillows scattered below us. This meant that our feet, grounded upon
the pillows, were actually behind us, for the pole was low enough to the
floor that our feet and the lowest parts of our shins could touch the
mattress and pillows below. Legs akimbo, Joy and I looked at each other.
ÒIt would be nice if we had some stirrups,Ó Joy said.
ÒYou must learn to balance,Ó Monique told her. ÒI could have put the
pole higher but I do not wish for you girls to fall off too quickly. On the
other hand, it should be a bit of an effort for you to remain in your
saddles. So I have not put the pole so low that you are actually sitting in
the pillows. I think youÕre both perched just right, donÕt you, girls?Ó
ÒYes,Ó Joy and I both answered. We stared at each other, both of us
seated on the horizontal pole, in our saddles, both of us about the same
height. We were perfectly matched, and Monique had wicked plans for us.
ÒGirls,Ó Monique said. ÒIt is not enough simply to practise your
poise, sitting on the pole, your pretend horsey. You must learn to cope
with all the difficulties inherent in controlling a live animal. Of course I
cannot make the pole move. So, instead, you two shall have a pillow
fight.Ó
ÒA pillow fight?Ó Joy asked. Her eyes widened.
ÒYes,Ó Monique said. ÒAnd in this pillow fight I do not want you
whacking each other in the face, or on the head. It is your bodies you must
learn to balance on a real horse. So you will each be given a pillow, and
you will hit each otherÕs bodies, simulating, as best we can, the bouncing
of a real horse. The first girl to fall off her saddle will be given a
spanking so that she has greater encouragement to try harder next time.Ó
ÒOh! I donÕt want to be spanked!Ó Joy proclaimed. Her right hand
flew back and uneasily rubbed her bottom.
ÒMe neither,Ó I said. Ruefully I looked at my aunt. It was she who
had gotten me into, or rather onto, this thing.
ÒYes, IÕm afraid it will be quite a hard spanking,Ó Monique said. ÒIt
is quite necessary. You both know what happened to Christopher Reeves.
He became paralyzed for life, because he fell off a real horse and broke his
neck. That will not happen to either of you girls. You will do an excellent
job of practising your balance on this pretend horse, so that when you
finally mount up on a real one you will not fall off.Ó
Monique picked up a pillow for each of us. She handed them to us and
Joy and I looked at each other.
ÒNot too hard,Ó Joy whispered. She spoke to me, moving her lips, but
uttering barely a sound, so that Monique would not hear. Her hair, hanging
down along both sides of her face, blocked her cheeks, so that Monique
could not see her lips move.
ÒOkay,Ó I answered, my mouth also moving surreptitiously,
soundlessly.
ÒBegin, girls,Ó Monique said. Then she stepped back, out from
between the mattresses. She had the men push them together.
ÒWe are to start?Ó Joy asked. She looked back over her shoulder at
Monique. Her blonde hair fell luxuriously down over her shoulders, which
were so slim as to almost be bony. Joy made up for the waif-like
slimness of her shoulders with a sumptuous pair of breasts. I stared at
them. They were like twin mounds of soft fruit, each topped by a cherry.
Monique, still decorous and prim in her black bra, answered with a single
word,
ÒYes.Ó
We began. Joy swung at me and missed. I swung back and missed
also. Joy swung again, missed again. We giggled.
ÒGirls!Ó Monique said. ÒYou are hardly simulating the motions of real
horse.Ó
ÒIÕm sorry,Ó Joy said. I repeated her words. I looked at my aunt and
stuck out my tongue.
ÒGirls, girls!Ó Monique scolded. She had the men pull apart the two
mattresses. She stepped in between the mattresses. She returned to the
pole. Joy and I looked up at her from our saddles.
ÒYes, Monique?Ó Joy and I chimed, our voices soft and full of feigned
innocence.
ÒAre you two conspiring to give yourselves an easy time?Ó Monique
asked.
ÒOh, no!Ó Joy said.
ÒNo, no!Ó I agreed.
ÒGirls,Ó Monique said. ÒRiding a horse can be a jarring experience.
It is a real animal. The horse might start at any moment, or stop, or spot
a female horse, for that matter. Or bend over to eat some clover. Or jump
a fence. Or take fright. You must be confident and in control, you cannot
be as you are now, two spoiled brats thinking only of your own
enjoyment.Ó
Monique bent down behind me. To my surprise she took hold of the
back of my saddle. She yanked on it. The mid-point of my saddle was
fixed to the pole by a strap passing underneath. As a result the saddle
itself did not budge. But the back of my saddle popped off! The small
upward flange, which offered a slight concealment of the back of my
bottom, now was in MoniqueÕs hands. She tossed it aside. It sailed out
past the pillows and landed on the hard floor. I gazed after it. I felt
forlorn, with the back of my saddle gone. Now my naked figure could be
seen right down to the spread halves of my bottom, even to the spot
between my cheeks where my asshole showed!
ÒYes, you are quite vulnerable now,Ó Monique laughed. ÒI never liked
the backs of saddles. They hide the best part of a girl!Ó
ÒOh, my asshole is not my best part!Ó I whined.
ÒIt is when you must be encouraged,Ó Monique said. ÒGive me your
wrists, darling. Did you not notice these straps along the sides of the
pole, under your saddle?Ó She took one of my hands. She drew my arm
straight. As I watched, she put my wrist behind my thigh. Then she drew
straps out from under my saddle and bound them around my wrist. When
she had thus affixed my arm, so that it was pulled back behind my leg, she
went round to my other side and fixed my other arm in the same way.
ÒNow you will practise your balance, and you have the added benefit
of not being able to fall off,Ó Monique said. She kissed me. I resisted.
She laughed. She went to Joy and tied off her arms in the same way. When
she was finished Joy and I gaped at each other. We squatted in our
saddles, just as before, but now we had no use of our arms, for they were
tied behind our squatting legs. Monique pulled off the back of JoyÕs saddle.
ÒNow your asshole can be seen also, my dear. How pretty it looks,Ó
Monique complimented Joy. The blonde blushed, looked at me. I stared
back.
Monique stepped out from between the mattresses. The men pushed
them together again, so that they were joined beneath us. Monique took
down two whips from the wall. Each had a knobbed wooden handle with a
single tail. Then she took down a cat, with nine separate tails.
ÒI require the services of two gentlemen, who are expert in handling
whips,Ó Monique said. ÒHave we any such here?Ó
ÒMe!Ó offered the man, who earlier had wished to spank someone.
ÒMe also!Ó said a second man, the one who had wanted to fuck me.
ÒVery well,Ó Monique said. ÒI shall wield the cat and you two shall
each have a single-tailed whip. I am going to stand next to the girls.
DonÕt hit me. Alright, gentlemen?Ó
ÒWhat do you want us to do?Ó the man who had asked to fuck me said
to Monique.
ÒYou are to simulate the jarring experience of riding a horse,Ó
Monique said. ÒBy whipping the girls on their backs, and especially on
their bottoms. Occasionally you will also land a blow where each girl will
hopefully find it most useful to jog her memory. That is, between the
darling cheeks of her ass, where her small bottomhole shows so sweetly.Ó
ÒOh my God!Ó Joy cried.
ÒOh, please no!Ó I pleaded.
ÒMeanwhile, I shall stand between the mattresses, over both girls,Ó
Monique said. ÒWith my cat oÕ nine tails I shall stimulate their nipples.
Together with your whip blows, both these girls should get quite a ride.
Let us begin, gentlemen. Pull apart the two mattresses so that I may step
in between them again.Ó
Later, Joy and I lay on the pillows. We were sore. We were
exhausted. We were thankful to be off that wicked pole. I for one
wondered if it had taught us anything at all about riding a real horse.
Darlene and Sandy rubbed salve on our nipples and anointed our hot
bottoms.
ÒOh, I wonÕt be able to shit for a week!Ó Joy moaned. She had taken a
particularly sharp cut in her hiney-hole.
Shy behind her veil of brown hair, like a nymph hiding in luxurious
woods, Darlene said, ÒYouÕll be alright.Ó Carefully she daubed yet more
salve within the opening of JoyÕs ass.
ÒOoooh, it hurts!Ó Joy whimpered. A shiver ran through her whole
body. Tears stained her cheeks.
ÒYou loved every minute of it,Ó Sandy said.
ÒNo we didnÕt!Ó I protested.
ÒYouÕll be alright,Ó Darlene said again. Her words sounded vaguely
intrigued, as if she were both shocked and excited by what had been done
to us.
ÒMy auntie will pay for this,Ó I said.
ÒShhh,Ó Sandy said. ÒLet me suck your nipples. It will make them
feel better.Ó
30
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