Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in 
BUSH LEAGUE

Chapter Three

	We slept all day.  Eventually Louis got up.  In my sleepiness I felt him draw back the bedcovers after heÕd slipped out, to admire Cheyenne and I.  We lay face to face, on our tummies, with our white bottoms sticking up at him.  Her arm was crossed protectively over my waist.  She was, after all, a little older than me.  
	Louis traced his finger down the cleft of my bottom.  It was all better.  I could feel that.  I tensed my cheeks a little.  In my mind I hoped heÕd pry me apart and force me to take him up the ass.  But he must have thought I wanted him to desist, for he withdrew his finger.  He replaced the bedcovers.  I sighed, a little remorseful, but he took it for contentment and turned and strode from the room.  A father checking on his child, finding her asleep in her crib.  He left.  I was alone with Cheyenne.  She stirred a little and nuzzled me with her nose.  Her mouth exhaled into mine.  It was sweet, in a female, primalistic sort of way.  I drifted off to sleep again, feeling quite protected, thank you, despite the presence of the post above my head, where IÕd been tied and beaten.  It was somnolent now, tucked back against the wall, like a penis put back in a manÕs pants after heÕs done using it.  
	Later I heard Polly shrieking.  I wondered, listened.  Yes.  She was running around the castle and had gotten Louis and Andre to chase her.  When they flagged in their attempts to catch her she teased them.  My, such lurid taunts she used.  Where did she learn those?  And then sheÕd be screaming again, delightedly, as the two big men raced after her.  Back and forth through the trees they must be running now, for her screams did not disappear round the backside of the castle as before, but remained below my window, more distant, then closer again.
	ÒOh, help!  IÕve got two big sausages after me!Ó Polly hollered, her voice bubbling with joy, and her boobies, no doubt, bouncing like frisky tennis balls on her chest.  They were all naked.  I was sure of it.  Polly was heedless of her motherÕs warnings not to run about without a training bra on.  (Or, indeed, given her size now, a real bra.)  The men ran gleefully, without supporters to protect their balls, their big cocks erect and bouncing up and down like poles that high-jumpers extend before themselves to jump the high jump.  Except much thicker, of course.  Yes, much thicker.  I longed to raise myself up and look.  I was glad Andre had recovered from his whipping between the mayfair poles, on the dias.  Rose had not hit him hard.  She knew the value of a nice big pair of balls.  And AndreÕs were a special prize, large enough to make one think of bowling balls, promising loads of sperm to the females whom he treasured, and who treasured his balls.
	Despite lying with my eyes closed, I could see Polly, infant-like, running with jiggling bottom cheeks, her fleet legs unsteady, her head turning back to see how close her beloved pursuers were.  And, when the men really put their minds to it, they would have no trouble catching her.  It would be like chasing down a giggly toddler.  Just as I considered this I heard her yell out with dismay as she found herself captured.  Up they swept her, her feet kicking, her arms struggling, hoping to break free.  Her tummy heaved and her breasts shook, their points woefully hard, for she knew she could not be captured without punishment.  Such naughty words sheÕd used in teasing them!  Laughingly the men carried her off, big men, big as football linebackers, with poor Polly totally imprisoned now, held, I think, in LouisÕs arms, for she had started by teasing him.
	Oh, how I wanted to see Polly get her just desserts!  I tried to rouse myself but my legs were still so stiff from Louis doing me, I could not get up.  I fell asleep again.  In my dreams I replaced Polly with myself.  Louis and Andre and Branson and even Lurch were all chasing me, through the trees and round the limo.  At last, to escape them, but really to let them have me, I dove into the pool.  And, of course, when I surfaced from my dive I saw all four of them arranged around the sides of the pool, standing like sentries, watching me.  Their arms were folded and my watery sanctuary had become my watery grave.  Their cocks stood out like tree trunks.  Then, like PinocchioÕs noses, their cocks began growing.  As I paddled in the pool I watched their cocks grow out, out, out, finally looming over my head as I hunched down, hoping to avoid them.  And then LouisÕs cock rammed straight into my mouth.  I could not stop him.  He pried my lips apart.  I was forced to suck upon him.  Then he flexed his cock and I was lifted up out of the pool, struggling, trying to free my mouth, but there was no escape for me.
	ÒLook, IÕve caught a fish!Ó Louis crowed, and for a moment I could not tell whether he was speaking of me, caught on the pole of his cock, or was really speaking, outside my window, with little Polly wriggling in his arms, hoping to escape him.  
	Rose appeared.  I thought she was real but then realized I was in my dream again.  ÒBring her to my skillet,Ó she intoned.  ÒI will cook her for your supper, men.Ó  And her skillet was the dias.  I was tied down to it and my legs spread.  ÒYes, a most beautiful specimen of fish,Ó Rose said, clinically, inspecting my oyster-lipped cunt.  ÒMost difficult to catch, except for expert fishermen like yourselves, of course,Ó she added, eyeing Louis and Andre.
	ÒOh, it is not difficult for us,Ó Louis said, diffidently, sitting nude at the table in the sunroom now, tying a napkin under his chin.  ÒWe catch a new one every day.Ó  
	ÒHurry up, IÕm hungry,Ó Andre urged.  He banged his knife and fork down on the table.  Underneath it his big prick wriggled impatiently.  Then Polly shot past, outside, timing herself by LurchÕs watch as she ran around the castle.  I followed her somehow and found that we had to stop and jump through the hopscotch squares at the front of the castle before we could run around it again.  Our tits leapt and swung as we played hopscotch, our scissoring legs showing off our mounds without shame.  Cars appeared on the desolate road beyond the castle and watched us through its gate with X-Ray eyes.
	ÒHi,Ó I heard.  A nose nuzzled mine.  Cheyenne.  I blinked away my sleep and saw her lying beside me, her face pressed close.  
	ÒHi,Ó I replied, smiling.  We kissed.  Our mouths were sweet.  We kissed again.  Her hand, which had lain protectively over my waist, passed down to my bottom and palmed it.  I let her feel me.  I spread my legs a little to invite her explorations.  We kissed a third time.  She slipped a finger between my legs and sought my spot.  I kept my legs splayed apart and we kissed again as she found me and delicately touched me in my special place.
	We did not hear the creeping of footsteps.  Suddenly, with no warning, our bedcovers were unfurled.  We were exposed, fish gasping and wriggling on a dock.  Rose stood over us, poking her head through the canopy of my bed.  SheÕd unveiled our naughtiness.
	ÒGirls!Ó Rose said.  ÒAre there so few men in my castle that you must entertain each other?  All by yourselves?Ó
	ÒWe were just playing,Ó Cheyenne explained.  We tensed our heinies, worried she might slap us.  Instead she turned her attention to me.  She ran both her hands over my bottom, pressed them into my newly whitened flesh.  
	ÒGood,Ó Rose said.  ÒYou have a nice, cream-white bottom again, Fleurry.  And yours is nice too, Cheyenne,Ó she added, for my girlfriend seemed put out that she was not included in RoseÕs inspection.  Rose vented my cheeks and examined my hole.  ÒAh, how snug and tight you are, Fleurry, despite the best efforts of some to enlarge you there.  Someday we will have to make you bigger.  There is no question about that.  I have a little leather belt.  It looks like an ordinary belt but there are three chains that loop down and connect themselves under it.  Sort of like panties, except without the connecting bits of cloth.  Just the skeleton, as it were, made of small chains.  And within the back chain there is a brass ring.  It fits right over the anus.  IÕll put you in those little panties someday.  And when youÕve got them on, of course, we can then begin to widen you.  There are a selection of shafts that come with the panties.  Each day we will plug a new one through the brass ring and, doing that, send it right up your anus.  YouÕll wear the panties all day, plugged up your ass.  YouÕll walk around the castle, doing what youÕre told, or as you like, but of course everyone will see that youÕre in training, because youÕll just wear the little chain panties, and nothing else.  IÕll want you to stay out of the sun since I like girlÕs bottoms white.  Perhaps you can drape a little towel over your tushy if you lie out in the sun.  Just like IÕd expect you to do now.  To keep your ass white, so when itÕs whipped we can see all the stripes.Ó
	ÒIt sounds...captivating,Ó I answered.  My speech slurred because I was still a little sleepy, and her words had induced a kind of prisoner-like listlessness in me.  She pried my cheeks harder apart and leaned down and let her breasts tumble out of her low cut, ruffled peasant gown.  She blew softly into my hiney hole.  
	ÒSo sweet,Ó she said, Cheyenne watching her inspection of me with a little envy, I think, in her eyes.  We both liked being the center of attention, even if it meant showing off our fannies.  Rose lifted one of her big gourd-like breasts, heavy like a gourd but round like a grapefruit, and kissed and licked her nipple, preparing it, but for what?  Then I knew.  She let her breast drop into my bottomfurrow and she stabbed my hole with her hard nipple.
	ÒOh!Ó I cried.  I had not expected it.  Fiercely she jabbed me with her nipple but I had little trouble taking it, for it was just a womanÕs nipple, nothing more.  
	ÒAh, if only I had a cock,Ó Rose sighed.  ÒI would ream you to the other end of South America and back, my dear.Ó  She stood, lifting herself and taking her tit with her.  She upped her dress and I saw she wore no panties beneath.  ÒBut instead IÕm stuck with this useless pussy.  Utterly useless for what IÕd like to do with it sometimes.  Look at me!  Nothing, just a mount of dark hair and my twin lips beneath, as if God felt the lips on my face wouldnÕt be enough for me, and had to give me a second pair.  So IÕve got nothing, just a belly, two pair of lips, and my tits, of course, sticking out when I walk down the street like balloons and making everyone think IÕm a bimbo.Ó  She sighed again.  She lowered her dress and put her breasts back inside it.  She straightened it.
	ÒGet up and get ready for dinner, girls,Ó Rose said.  ÒWeÕre going to have fun tonight!  DonÕt wear anything.  Just come as you are, but see that your hair and your nails are perfect.  Absolutely perfect.Ó  She withdrew her head from the canopy, walked to the door.  ÒNo playing in the tub!Ó she warned.  ÒBe good girls.  IÕm serious.  I want you both on tenterhooks when you come downstairs, not exhausted because youÕve spent the last hour frigging each other to death in the bathroom.Ó
	ÒYes, maÕam,Ó Cheyenne and I answered.  Our voices were musical.  We sounded like small girls at a slumber party, waiting for mom to leave so we could discuss the finer aspects of boys.

	We came downstairs an hour later.  Rose led us into the ballroom, a room weÕd not dined in before.  It was huge and had chandeliers in it, six in all, built of crystal and hanging from the ceiling, sprinkling their light down on us.  I saw a score of people, men and women, elegantly dressed, but Cheyenne and I, like singing telegram girls, were quite nude, except that IÕd tied ribbons in my hair and so had she, to make ourselves extra pretty.  
	Polly was there.  Rose had turned her so that her bottom stuck out and she was leaning forward over a table.  Rose beckoned us.  To my surprise I saw PollyÕs bottom was white.  Whatever Louis and Andre had done to her, they had not whipped her.  The day, I realized, had been cloudy.  She had been able to run around naked and yet keep her bottom preserved in the state Rose preferred it in.  Polly was festooned with ribbons like Cheyenne and I.  In additon to decorating her hair they were tied round her upper arms, and again round her thighs, mid-way, tied off in little bows with streamers dangling down to her elbows and knees.  She was exceptionally delightful to look at.  Rose told me that Polly was to be served for dessert.  Indeed, all three of us were, and we were to decorate ourselves for the crowd, as they watched.  They had already begun their meal.  I wondered when Polly and Cheyenne and I would eat but I did not ask.
	Rose handed me a cannister of whipped cream.  ÒDecorate Polly, would you, Fleurry?  Be still, Polly.  It is only whipped cream.Ó  Polly looked over her shoulder, like a child ignorant but wanting to know, and not sure it liked the answer.  Gracefully I took the whipped cream.  I wanted to appear as ladylike as I could, despite my nudity.  I aimed the cannister carefully and, at RoseÕs direction, I carefully shot a line of whipped cream down PollyÕs ass crack.  ÒDonÕt wiggle, Polly, I want the line to be perfect,Ó Rose scolded.  Polly moved her hips once but I anticipated her movement and was able to keep my line of cream straight.  
	As I squirted PollyÕs asscrack, Bambi, who wore a tight corset, met Cheyenne and drew her aside.  ÒMore guests will be coming soon.  You must serve them their appetizer,Ó Bambi told her.  I could not study Bambi, but I caught a glimpse of her and saw that she wore a corset that plumped up her breasts and left them free, despite its tightness around her middle.  Atop the mounds of her nude breasts her skin was all wet and there were bits of stray fruit lying atop them.  I realized, somehow, that Bambi had used her own bosoms as a serving tray.  SheÕd placed (or perhaps Rose had done it) bits of fruit atop her uplifted breasts.  Then sheÕd gone from guest to guest and served them this way, offering them her breasts, atop which was the fruit which they were invited to pluck from her with just their mouths.  Now it was CheyenneÕs turn, and she shivered a little as Bambi suited her up.  Polly, meanwhile, was to be the official dessert.  She would be made modest, perversely, by having whipped cream squirted over all her private places.  Then she would be served this way, and the guests would lick her clean, making her immodest again, and titillating her and themselves in the process.  I realized all this in a rush, squirting the whipped cream carefully down the indrawn line of PollyÕs bottom crack.
	Rose turned Polly around.  The girl looked down at herself as Rose forced her to jut her hips out at me.  Her little cunt made a perfect target.  
	ÒOoooh, Polly, how indecent you are!  Let me cover you up a little,Ó I offered.
	ÒNoooo,Ó Polly whined, but I squirted her nonetheless.  Icing-like the whipped cream spritzed into the hairs of her pubic mound.  Then, coating her thoroughly there, I moved down, parted her legs and squirted her cunny lips and then continued my line back until it met up with the line of cream IÕd drawn down her buttcrack.  I did not bother to give her cream bikini drawstrings.  
	ÒNow for your nipples,Ó I said.  I stood and placed the nozzle of the whipped cream close to her nearest tit.  She was trembling.  I had to cup her breast from beneath to hold her wobbling tittie.  Then I squirted her nipple, as she gritted her teeth against the cold of the refrigerated cream and begged me to stop.
	Next I did PollyÕs other nipple.  I did not bother to give her bra cups, just the nipples was enough.  No decorative drawstring either.  But, raising my can, I traced a little cream collar round the front of her throat.  Just above her real collar.  It looked nice.  She looked sweet.  I kissed her blushing cheeks and told her so.
	ÒOh, can I wipe it off now?Ó Polly asked, stroking her tummy and threatening to dip it into the cream that decorated her pubis.
	ÒWhy Polly, we just got you properly dressed for the party and you want to get naked already?Ó Rose teased.  ÒBe a good girl and go show off your cream bikini to the guests.  I wonder if youÕd be allowed on a beach now, since we canÕt see your privates anymore?  Of course, you mustnÕt get your bikini wet.  That would truly be a no-no,Ó Rose laughed.  She was clothed in a beautiful red gown that moulded itself to her figure like a glove.  It was cut off at the knees, seductively showing her calves, I thought.  In front her gown dipped so low her nipples showed.  Just the top halves, the pronging tips barely below the hem.  It constricted her breasts a little so that her nipplesÕ tips would stay concealed.  But I knew if she moved incautiously sheÕd find herself displaying her teats right out to the tips.  
	Bambi was inventive.  Having tied up Cheyenne in a breathlessly tight corset, she made the girl perch her bare ass on a table and she fitted the girl into ankle-high boots.  Then, finishing that, she did not release her.  Instead she made her stand and then bent her over.  Cheyenne grimaced as the tautly-laced corset creaked and bit into her already trim waistline, compressing her slim tummy even more.  When Cheyenne was bent double, her fingers brushing her toes, Bambi parted her legs, giving her a wider stance.  Cheyenne looked ready to keel over and Rose rushed to hold her.  She cupped her hands beneath the girlÕs face and stroked her hair.  She watched with approval as Bambi took an oil funnel, the same type used in gas stations, but brand new and clean, and poked it into CheyenneÕs tight bottom.
	ÒYou must experience submission, Cheyenne,Ó Rose said softly to the girl, in a reassuring voice, letting her know she approved of all the new tricks Bambi was thinking up.  Rose tossed her hair back over her shoulder, carelessly, and one of her hemmed in nipples managed to break free of her low cut bodice.  Cheyenne, meanwhile, had no such protection for her breasts.  The corset stopped short of containing them and merely pushed them upward, so that they could be used as wiggling nude platforms for fruit.
	Polly stood beside me, a hand on my shoulder, a finger in her mouth.  She sucked on it speculatively, watching, as I did, as Bambi took a small bottle of liquor and popped its cork.  Carefully Bambi took hold of the oil funnel which, in the interim, Rose had been holding in place.  Its neck was most indelicately stuck within CheyenneÕs butthole.  The girl shivered, waiting, first while the cork on the liquor was popped and then as Bambi took back possession of the funnel.  Now all of us watched as Bambi slowly began pouring the liquor into CheyenneÕs ass.
	GLUG GLUG GLUG could be heard in the room.  The guests had ceased eating.  We all watched with fascinated eyes.  Cheyenne gasped as she felt the liquor run from the funnel straight into her hiney.  
	ÒI-I donÕt want tooo,Ó Cheyenne offered, but her protest was ignored as more liquor gurgled its way down the oil funnel and into her upthrust tushy.  CheyenneÕs eyes widened, glazed, widened again.  I know she must have been feeling the effects of the liquor as it communicated its potency through the walls of her rectum and up to her head.  The fluid remained in her bowels, like liquor in the tummy, but the effects of it could be felt in her brain.  
	ÒAlright, now stand up,Ó Bambi ordered when the bottle was empty.  Cheyenne stood.  She wobbled a bit on her feet but then came to herself.  She was a little drunk, but still quite aware that she was nude, in just a corset and booties, in a roomful of strangers.  Rose took fruit from the table and, with BambiÕs help, the two of them sprinkled it over CheyenneÕs breasts.  Meanwhile, the girl was jamming her asscheeks together, striving her best to contain the fluid in her bowels.  As soon as Rose and Bambi were done decorating her they launched her into the crowd.
	ÒGo, serve them, but donÕt lose your enema,Ó Rose and Bambi told poor Cheyenne.  In the back of the room more guests entered, seated themselves, and Cheyenne walked with wavering half-steps toward them.  So far she was keeping her enema inside her.  I crossed my fingers and prayed for her.  How embarassing it would be for her to spill it right out there amidst all the new diners.  
	ÒNow for Polly,Ó Rose said.
	ÒOh, pwease!Ó Polly begged.  But I pushed her over to them and they upended her just as ruthlessly.  Her jamming asscheeks were pried apart.  Rose handed Bambi a small china plate piled high with slit grapes and chocolate bon bons and pitted cherries.
	ÒHelp me, Fleurry,Ó Bambi told me.  Unsure of my own fate, I squatted behind Polly and took hold of her asscheeks and pulled them wide apart to allow Bambi to stuff her butthole with the fruit.  
	ÒYouÕll make a most scrumptious dessert,Ó Rose assured Polly.  The girl shuddered and sighed but, curiously, did not fight us.  I think we were all excited by the prospect of intermingling with all the handsome men in the crowd.  They wore dark suits and ate with beautiful women beside them, yet their eyes were upon us mostly, abosorbing our every movement, unsure when or if theyÕd get another chance to see such young females being put through such horrid ordeals.
	Cheyenne gave a heart rending cry as a woman she presented her breastful of fruit to chose to tickle her cunny as she mouthed fruit from her tits.  
	ÒI canÕt hold it if you do that, maÕam!Ó Cheyenne begged.  She was standing with her legs apart, but her ass jammed together in back, desperately trying to hold in her enema.  She wanted to cross her legs but that was, of course, quite forbidden.  At the castle one of the first rules weÕd been taught was to never cross our legs.  Cheyenne screamed a little scream as the women kept on tickling her.  The woman cared not the least about Cheyenne.  She simply wished to entertain herself.
	As I watched, my bed mate found herself unable to hold in her liquor under the relentless assault.  There was a sudden cry of surrender from her.  Shivering right down her spine to her toes, her ass cheeks tremored and released their load.  A shower of shit-colored liquor burst from CheyenneÕs hiney and spilled all down the backs of her thighs and into her boots.
	ÒNoooo,Ó Cheyenne cried out remorsefully, for she and I had spent so much time getting ready upstairs, doing each otherÕs makeup, hair, carefully making ourselves perfect, and now she was spoilt, nothing but a girl with diarrhea.
	ÒHow unpleasant,Ó the woman whoÕd been tickling her sniffed.  ÒGo serve the others.Ó  Cheyenne walked miserably to the other guests and let them mouth fruit from her breasts in turn.  When she reached the last one, a woman, the lady took her over her knee and began slapping her bare ass with her hand, which was gloved in kid leather.  Cheyenne, formerly just runny at her rear, was now forced to offer up tears as well.
	Shivering at her fate, listening as she bawled, I turned my eyes back to PollyÕs bottom.  Bambi was busily filling it up with all the fruit on the tray.
	ÒOh, itÕs too much!  ItÕs going too far up!Ó Polly whined.
	ÒBe still, Polly!Ó Rose ordered.  The girl waved her bottom about but I kept a firm grip on it and kept her cheeks apart.  She was not as resistant as in the past.  I think the castle was slowly breaking her in, changing her from a little crybaby into a woman.  Bambi pushed fruit after fruit through her layer and cream and into her hole.  There was a little gap in my handiwork now, where IÕd squirted her buttcrack with the cream.  Like a chipmunk storing food away for the winter, Bambi relentlessly kept plugging PollyÕs bottom with more and more fruit.  And the bon-bons also, which had gone up first because they would melt within her body, while the fruit would have to be removed by human intervention, unless we were simply willing to wait for PollyÕs next poop, which I knew we were not.
	When Polly was quite full behind, Rose stood her up.  She turned the girl around.  I was told to pull PollyÕs thighs apart in front and I obeyed.  Rose handed Bambi a long banana.  Polly watched wide-eyed, me keeping her legs open, as Bambi peeled the banana.  Then Bambi bent down and intruded it into PollyÕs pussy.
	ÒOh, I canÕt TAKE anymore!Ó Polly hollered, for she was already quite full in back and the banana would plug her quite completely, filling her up for dessert-time.
	ÒYou must, Polly,Ó Rose replied.  She gripped the girlÕs bare shoulders and made her watch as Bambi eased the banana up her, going slowly so as not to hurt her.  It possessed an exemplarly length.  Polly would be well-fucked, by nature, if Bambi succeeded in getting all of the banana up her.  
	As it turned out, most of the banana made it inside.  But a little protruded out, its white tip looking like a little penis.  Polly touched it.
	ÒI have a penis!Ó Polly said.
	ÒSo you do,Ó Rose laughed.  ÒI wish I had one, even a little banana one like you do,Ó Rose admitted.  She looked at me.  I remembered our conversation in the bedroom.  I smiled.  I let go of PollyÕs legs.
	ÒGo show off your new penis, Polly,Ó Rose told the girl.  She pushed her toward the guests.  They watched, bemused, as this slip of a girl, just 13, came tip-toeing toward them, her feet bare, wearing a seductive cream bikini.  In front, she offered them a boyish view of a banana cock, while in back she had to keep her asscheeks together lest the fruit stuffed into her begin popping out.
	ÒMmm, let me lick your little penis,Ó a woman said to Polly.  She reached out and grasped the girl by her hips.  She drew Polly toward her.  Bending her face down, she tongued PollyÕs banana just as she would a cock.  A little boyÕs cock it would have to have been, for Polly showed only the tip of the banana, the rest jammed up inside her.
	ÒOhhhh,Ó Polly moaned.  I thought it must have been exquisite for her to be presented this way.  The womanÕs tongue, confining itself to her banana, did not touch her directly.  Polly sleeked a hand across her tummy and I knew she wanted to touch herself.  But she did not.  She let the woman lick her banana, the husband watching, other guests eyeing her from all around, savoring their dessert, waiting politely for their turn at her.
	Cheyenne howled and was let up by the woman whoÕd been paddling her fanny.  She stood sobbing, holding her asscheeks with her hands, and the woman reproved her for making a mess of herself.
	ÒOh, IÕm sorry!Ó Cheyenne moaned, but of course it wasnÕt her fault, even though the woman told her it was.  A man took the poor girl and toppled her over his knees and began spanking her.
	ÒBoo!  Hoo!  Hoo!Ó Cheyenne cried, but there was no stopping her spanking.  How rude to spank her again, I thought, but Rose took hold of me and turned me toward her.  I drew in my breath expectantly and felt my bosoms rise on my chest.
	ÒOh, please donÕt make me do this,Ó I pleaded.
	ÒShush, dear, it is nothing.  A little playing, thatÕs all,Ó Rose replied.  She squirted my nipples with chocolate syrup.  All the work IÕd done upstairs to make myself look my best, and now I was being used as a scoop of ice cream might be, my breasts decorated with syrup that made me instantly, if seductively, messy.
	Rose squirted chocolate syrup into my navel.  I giggled.  Then she lowered her bottle to my pussy.  She looked at my eyes.
	ÒReady?Ó she asked, standing before me, I her disciple. 
	ÒNo, but--Ó I began.  Smiling, I looked down and watched with bashful eyes as she squirted chocolate syrup right into my pretty nest.  ÒOh!Ó I exclaimed.  How naughty I felt.  How my mother would disapprove!  Rose decorated me like one might a cake, making my nest all chocolaty and then moving down to do the same to my cunt.
	ÒNow, turn around,Ó she told me.
	ÒOh, Rose!  You must NOT!Ó I giggled, almost beside myself at the prospect of what she was going to do to me.  Yet I let her, with the help of Bambi, turn me around.  Bambi bent me forward a little so that I presented Rose with my ass.
	ÒMany call it the Ôchocolate chute,Õ so...Ó Rose said.  She let her voice trail off as she poked the tip of the syrup bottle into my hineyhole.  
	ÒOh please Rose, not back there,Ó I asked one last time, but in answer I felt my guts get a jet of chocolate right up them.  Rose laughed.  The crowd, watching, laughed.  Rose squeezed the bottle again and more chocolate jetted up my ass.  I heard a man smack his lips.  Either what he was eating was very good, or he was anticipating me.  It was the latter, I knew.  In the distance Cheyenne howled.  There was no stopping her spankings.  Each diner seemed to want to have a crack at her now.  I guessed sheÕd not be sitting at dinner, that was for sure, whenever we finally got to eat, instead of just being eaten.  Polly, I saw, turning my head, was having her banana cock nibbled away.  There was nothing left but her slit now, the extruded portion of banana was gone, eaten up.  Inside, though, I knew she carried the remainder, and now the guests would begin the more invasive job of mouthing that out of her.
	ÒThere!  YouÕre a chocolate bunny!Ó Rose said.  She was finished shooting up my bottomhole with syrup.  I felt quite full in back.  Mercilessly she pushed me toward the crowd.  My turn.  Where were Louis and Andre?  I could not find them.  I was alone, with only Rose to protect me, but she had just violated me.  Polly whined as a hungry woman gnawed at her pussy.  I heard a little grape pop out of her and bounce off the tiled floor.  	
	I wandered up to the first guest.  ÒDo you like chocolate?Ó I asked her.  Her husband grinned and she let him have me.  He turned me around and bent me over and stuck his tongue rudely into my hiney.
	ÒOh, sir!  You DO like chocolate!Ó I cried.  For answer he raped me with his tongue.
	When we were quite despoiled, and all our fruit and cream and syrup dug and licked out of us, were were put side-by-side on a table.  Our backs were laid on the tablecloth, with linen napkins piled under our heads to give us a little comfort.  But our hips were left to dangle off the table.  Each man who wished to was fitted with a condom and brought to stand between our legs and fuck us.  As we were fucked, Rose fed us our dinner.  Baby food, so that in our crying and gasping we would not choke on our food as the men fucked us.  Then we were taken upstairs, bathed, and put to bed, all three of us in my room.  As I drifted off into an exhausted sleep I could hear the party continuing downstairs.  I think Louis and Andre entered then, and were the delight of the dinnerÕs wee hours.  They demonstrated their manly spirit upon the women, their husbands being all spent, just watching, as bull-like Louis and Andre fucked each of the women in the room.  Their cries and moans emanated upstairs, putting me to sleep.
	In the morning I was the first to awaken.  I slipped into my bathroom and freshened myself.  As I returned to my bed I found Cheyenne and Polly waking up.  Polly scooted herself off my bed as soon as she was conscious and ran to the bathroom, like a little girl, to pee.  Cheyenne, a bit older, smiled at me, and excused herself.  When Polly was done peeing I heard Cheyenne remind her to flush the toilet.  Then Cheyenne took her turn upon it.
	As the girls freshened themselves I looked with renewed interest at the pole behind my bed.  I got on my bed and, kneeling at the headboard, I unhooked it from the wall.  I lifted its heavy length and locked it into place.  Then I stood up.  I put my mouth to the soft rubber ball that angled up from it, mounted on a second post.  I felt the ball fill my mouth.  I pressed my face hard against it, so that I could hardly breathe.  I concentrated on inhaling through my nostrils and, at the same time, I reached behind myself and opened the cheeks of my bottom.
	I hand at the canopy of my bed.  Turning my head, I thought it was just Cheyenne, or Polly.  To my heartbeating surprise, I saw it was Louis!  He put a finger to my back and ran it down my spine.  He continued on to my bottom.  He poked inbetween my cleft cheeks and touched my hole.
	ÒI hear you got quite a licking back here last night,Ó Louis said to me.
	ÒYeth,Ó I mouthed over the ball.  He lifted my arms up.  He locked them to the back of my collar.  He fastened my collar to the front of the post.  He positioned my legs wider apart on the bed.  My bare feet planted themselves firmly and I waited while he undid his trousers, freeing his cock, then his belt.
	Polly interrupted us.  With a finger at her lips she asked, with inquiring eyes, ÒOh, Fleurry!  What are you doing?  I thought you were going to come play with us in the tub!Ó
	I heard Cheyenne drawing the bath water.
	ÒIn a minute,Ó I said.  I watched as Louis doubled his belt.
	ÒGo take your bath,Ó Louis told Polly.
	ÒYes, sir,Ó Polly gulped.  And she saluted him, dear girl.  Then she scurried out of sight.
	I tensed my cheeks.  They felt so cool and white and normal in the morning air.  Did I really want Louis to turn them into a ball of flame?  I donÕt know.  I watched with my eyes as his tantalizing cock swayed out of view as he got up on the bed behind me.  I could not see him now.  I switched my eyes to a mirror, placed strategically so a girl could watch her tormenter and learn to love him.  LouisÕ cock dangled from his loins like a snake poised to strike.  He ran his fingers across his cock and then over his doubled-up belt.  I think we were both tense now, he and I.  His erection showed no sign of abating until a female had been sacrificed to it.  And I wished for no other to take my place.  If he needed me, I would be there for him.  I curved my back inward, letting my bottomcheeks hang more impudently, more seductively.  Saucily I wiggled my tail.  I was glad my hands were locked behind me.  As I saw him raise his belt I know I would have covered myself in back.  I was glad my mouth was plugged.  I could not have kept from crying out for him to spare me.
	ÒLouis, Fleurry dear,Ó Rose interrupted suddenly.  Where had she come from?  She should not be here.  This was our private moment together.  She put her head through the bedÕs canopy and stayed LouisÕs hand just as it was about to come swooping down most mercilessly on my bottom.  ÒLouis, thereÕs a young lady here to see you,Ó Rose told him.  She spoke with amusement in her voice, as if enjoying interrupting us.
	ÒDamn,Ó Louis swore.  ÒIÕd forgotten.Ó  He dropped his belt uselessly on the bed.  He leaned forward, kissed my nearest shoulder, as if I were just his neice, he my uncle.  Or worse, as if he were my father, and I his daughter.  Two souls who could never reach out and enjoy each other in the intimate way lovers do.  ÒIÕll be back in the morning,Ó he told me.  Then he stuffed himself back into his pants, somehow, and looped his belt back into his pants.  He left.  Delicately Rose undid me from the post.  I felt empty, somehow, as I slumped down onto the sheets of the bed.
	ÒGo take your bath, dear,Ó Rose said consolingly to me.  I got up and walked in my nudity to the bathroom.  Going inside, I met Cheyenne and Polly.  Cheyenne was watching Polly as the blonde sailed a boat quite merrily through the foam laden waters.
	ÒCome in, Fleurry!  All done?  IÕm exploring SudLand!Ó Polly chortled.  She seemed perfectly content with her boat.  Reluctantly I joined them.

	We spent the day sunning ourselves.  We were careful to keep our bottoms and tits covered to keep Rose happy.  She watched over us, me especially.  We played dominoes, twister, monopoly, all in the nude.  We swam in the pools, wearing our bikinis for that to preserve the distinction between our covered and uncovered places.  We ended the day sucking popsicles and eating an early meal.  Then we turned in, each to our own beds to keep us from being mischeivous.
	ÒGet up!Ó Rose urged me the following morning.  I was not permitted to bathe, but there was no real need for it.  IÕd taken a bath the night before, was still feeling fresh.  She did up my hair with pins so that I wore it in a loose coiffure.  Then she brought me downstairs.
	Out back in the sunroom Polly and Cheyenne were busy tugging on thick socks and leather hiking shoes.  I was made to sit down on a step with them and do the same.  When we each stood, we were made to put on backpacks.  We wore nothing else.
	ÒI feel like a pack horse,Ó I said, struggling into my backpack.
	ÒAndre and Louis are taking us hiking!Ó Polly said gleefully.
	ÒLouis?  Is he back?Ó Rose nodded.  I smiled.
	ÒWhatÕs in this thing?Ó Cheyenne asked.  Her backpack was especially bulky.  Her bosoms were squished a little by its padded straps.
	ÒYours is an insulated cooler, carrying three bottles of wine, plus glasses, two of them, for Louis and Andre,Ó Rose told her.
	ÒWhat will I drink out of, then?Ó Cheyenne asked, squeezing her bottom cheeks as she contemplated an opening in herself that she did not want to use for drinking.
	ÒWhy, youÕll just have to share with the men, if they let you,Ó Rose replied.  If they let us?  I wondered at that.  I looked down at my shoes and felt I might, indeed, be just a pack horse.  
	ÒWhatÕs in mine?Ó I asked.  I gripped the straps and squared the weight against myself to carry it better.
	ÒPillows for the men to sit on, a tablecloth, two sandwhiches I packed for them, plus some fruit,Ó Rose told me.
	ÒHow about mine?Ó Polly chirped.  She looked like she expected to be told hers carried toys.  It did, of a sort, but not the kind she was thinking of.  No colored chalk, or bathtub boast.
	ÒWhips,Ó Rose answered.  She turned her head.  Louis and Andre, clad in hunterÕs gear, but carrying nothing, came into the sunroom.
	ÒAlright, I see the girls are ready,Ó Andre grinned.
	ÒLetÕs go, girls, IÕm hungry!Ó Louis said, and walked past us, as if we were indeed horses, albeit pretty ones.  Shouldering our backpacks, we followed them.  We stepped out into the open air and felt the breeze upon our faces.  And our tushies.  We were totally nude, we three girls, except for our hiking shoes.  
	ÒHave fun, and donÕt worry about screaming, girls,Ó Rose called after us from the sunroom.  ÒTheyÕll take you where no one can hear!Ó
	With that send-off we walked most apprehensively behind Louis and Andre.  They led us out into the fields, past the workerÕs huts, on toward a distant mountain.  I saw a jeep waiting at the end of the field.  Louis and Andre put us into it.  We were allowed to take off our backpacks and throw them in back.  Then we got into the backseat and strapped ourselves in.  The seat was leather.  We were offered nothing to sit on except the bare seat itself.  The men strapped us in with seatbelts so that we wouldnÕt fall out.  Then, getting in front, they drove off with us jostling in the back.
	We drove up the mountain.  It was a jaunty, butt-thumping ride that took little cognizance of the fact that Cheyenne and Polly and I were girls.  We drove through indian villages, our breasts showing, bouncing helplessly, as natives came outdoors and grinned at our passing.  Did they practise the same ritual, taking their girls into the mountains?
	When Louis finally stopped the jeep we got out.  He and Andre made us reshoulder our backpacks.  Then, forcing us to lead the way up a small dirt path, they followed.  They admired our bottoms as we walked.  We were feeling a bit more like pack horses with every step, clad only in our shoes, as if shoed like horses, carrying loads not intended for our amusement but only for that of our masters.  Cheyenne and Polly and I huffed and puffed under our loads, climbing steadily, while the men behind us carried nothing.  My breasts swung beneath me.  I wished for a bra but had none.  I wished for panties to keep the menÕs leering eyes off my bottom but, out here, the nearest pair of panties must have been 50 miles away.
	The mountain was bare.  There were only rocks and crags, plus fields of daisies, all bright and glowing under the warm summer sun.  I felt bereft, though, carrying so much weight.  Was this, I wondered, what it felt like to be pregnant?  Obvioulsy the weight would be in my tummy when I was with child but, nonetheless, IÕd be carrying my husbandÕs future child, bearing up under the strain, while he, naturally, carried nothing heavier than his own erection.
	We walked higher into the rocky waste.  The wind was mercifully quiet.  It was as if God had set aside this special day for us and, knowing what Polly was forced to carry in her pack, he had calmed the winds to give us respite from them at least.  I thought of horses out West, in America, with the men walking behind them, wondering at their asses, wondering if they might, just might...
	I could feel LouisÕs eyes burning into my bottom.  It hung like a white cloven marshmellow above my bare tanned legs.  How close weÕd come, yesterday, to consummating our love for each other with another punishment.  And now, with my bottom quite naked, and Polly loaded down with whips, there was no chance of me being spared again.  None of us, I thought, would escape down the mountain with our bottoms still white.  
	In front my snowy tits jangled in their fullness beneath me.  I panted and hefted my backpack higher on my back.
	ÒHere,Ó Louis said.  He pointed to a small grassy clearing amidst the daisies.  There was a sturdy log in the middle of the clearing.  I wondered at it, bit my lip.
	We were led to the clearing and allowed to put down our packs.  Their packs, for their contents were picked by Louis and Andre, and brought for their own pleasure.  The men made us squat and undo the packs and lay out their contents.  Cheyenne and I unfurled a tablecloth for the men to sit on.  Three pillows were drawn from my pack, and placed, at the menÕs orders, atop the log, in a neat row that boded ill for our bottoms.  The men sat down on the blanket and had us girls sit amongst them.  Polly with fear in her eyes, was made to arrange all the whips from her pack in a neat row on the blanket.  They were awful, absolutely the worst.  Rattans braised in a fire to make their tips hard and tough.  A cat with jewels worked into the ends of each of its tails, glittering, beautiful, but promising to flay a girl alive if its beauty was used on her.  A pony whip, used to drive horses, brought out and laid with care amongst the other whips despite our obedeince.
	ÒOh, I donÕt wish to be whipped!Ó Polly moaned.  
	ÒThen drink.  ItÕs why we brought the wine,Ó Louis told her.  He made her take a sip from his glass.  Cheyenne, who had never been touched by a whip, sat with frightened eyes looking at the implements, with her palms firmly beneath her seat, afraid to let it touch even the blanket, lest she somehow be harmed by it.
	I tried to be brave.  Yes, we were alone.  Yes, no one could possibly come to our aid.  But Loius and Andre were our favorite guys.  Surely they would not harm us.  What, though, had Louis been called away for, yesterday?  Did he still love me?  Did he--my breath caught in my throat--did he need to dispose of me?  High on this mountaintop no one would know if he did.  Only the natives, and they did not share the mountainÕs secrets with outsiders.  Only with Rose perhaps, but she never asked, merely paid them to use the mountain sometimes, for her own purposes.  As today, paying to let Louis and Andre drive myself and Polly and Cheyenne up here.  Did the natives use this same clearing for their girls?  I thought the grass was especially lush here.  Surely daisies might have grown here, yet they did not.  Someone had kept them back, to allow the grass to grow.  And that log.  Had it not seemed a little worn, where weÕd placed our pillows.  Three little depressions, worn, perhaps, into the wood by struggling Indian girls who had only woven blankets underneath thier tummies?  We were special.  We had pillows, gleaming whitely in their pillow cases.  Yet our fate, I guessed, would be no different from that of the Indian girls.
	Clutching our bottoms, we each took sips from LouisÕs or AndreÕs wine goblets.  Little was said, save for the occasional simperings of Polly.  But even she seemed to accept her fate, finally.  The sun shown down as the men ate their sandwiches, offering us none, admiring our bare brown-limbed bodies.  Polly asked to pee and they led her to the edge of the clearing and squatted down and relieved herself in the lush grass.  I took the same opportunity.  There was no fighting it.  Once put over the logs, we might be kept there for hours.  Cheyenne went after me.  
	ÒIt is time,Ó Louis said, after we were done and weÕd wiped ourselves as best we could with handkerchiefs and moist towelettes.  We were taken to the log.  Our hands were cuffed in front of us, to keep them away from our bottoms, though we might frig ourselves, if we wished.  Louis and Andre told us we could if we needed to.  It would make it easier for us, they said.  Then Cheyenne, and Polly and I, their faithful pack horses, were made to kneel in front of the log, as if to receive communion before it.  They did not serve us wafers and wine, though, but instead bent us over it.  I felt the softness of the pillow recieve my tummy.  I felt my head pressed down on the far side of the log until my cheek met the lush grass.
	ÒOh, please donÕt, Louis,Ó I begged.
	ÒSpread your legs,Ó was all he said in reply.  His hands came between my thighs and opened them.  I felt the sun on my hiney.  How carefully IÕd protected it from the sunÕs rays, yet now here I was, white-bottomed, with nothing covering me.  And Rose would not dissaprove now, would she?  No.  Nothing must come between a girlÕs bottom and the whip. 
	Polly whimpered.
	ÒIÕm not going to give you a gag,Ó Louis told her.  I want to hear you scream.  Scream as much as you like.  
	ÒI have to... I have to go to the bathroom again,Ó Polly claimed.  The men fixed leather straps into the wood and bound them over the small of our backs.  We were truly imprisoned now.  
	ÒYou donÕt have to go to the bathroom, Polly, youÕre just saying that,Ó Cheyenne scolded.  Perhaps she was trying to distract herself from the inevitable.  Her voice was shaky, unsure, but she scolded Polly anyway.
	ÒI do too!  Very badly,Ó Polly said, but immediately began crying in soft sobs of fear.
	ÒThen just hold it,Ó Cheyenne snapped, almost on the verge of tears herself.  We had been so good, and now the men were fixing to treat us horribly!
	Not content with bolting us down to the logs, or tying our hands, the men next fixed spreader bars to our ankle straps.  They used these poles between our legs to keep them wide apart.  I had one between my legs, a good three-footer, spreading my legs right up to my hiney, and Cheyenne had one, and Polly, who was now blubbering, got one also.
	ÒPee right where you are if you have to, I donÕt care,Ó Louis told Polly.  
	ÒOkay, I WILL then!Ó Polly declared, though her tears. 
	ÒWell?Ó Louis asked.  The girlÕs bottom shivered but she delivered no pee.
	ÒNow I donÕt have to,Ó Polly gulped.
	ÒYou never did,Ó Louis replied.  ÒExtra strokes for you my dear Polly, for being a liar!Ó
	ÒIt was just a likkle fib,Ó Polly pleaded.  Tears rolled anew down her wet cheeks.
	ÒBye, I love you,Ó Cheyenne said.  She was closest to me and she turned her head to me.
	ÒBye bye,Ó I replied, shivering, for I knew we were just seconds away from our torment.  The men hefted their whips behind us and swung them into the wind and commented on the possibilities of their uses.  Meanwhile, not to limit their enjoyment in any way, they stripped off their clothes and stood buck naked behind us, enjoying the sun on their cocks, their balls.  They were fully erect and promised to ream Polly and Cheyenne and I most astutely once theyÕd finished punishing us.
	Louis bent over me and kissed me.  I felt his dangling cock bounce off my heinie.
	ÒI love you,Ó he whispered to me.  ÒAnd I love your bottom.  ThatÕs why IÕm going to whip it.Ó  His finger was under my chin and I lowered my mouth quickly and caught it between my lips.  I sucked hard, but I did not bite him, I did not bite.
	Andre gave Polly her goodbye kiss.  And then they both kissed Cheyenne, making me feel just a tad jealous, despite my fears.
	Louis got behind me and caressed my bare fanny.  His cock bobbed just behind its speres, tempted, but wishing to see me punished by the whip first.  After heÕd touched me with his hand he picked up the implement heÕd chosen to start off with, a soft leather whip with thin cords.  Deceptively he brushed it over my ass, touching me with it in soft warm caressing movements, as if it were a sponge instead of a whip.  Then, abruptly, he stood.  Andre, whoÕd been playing with PollyÕs ass, stood also.
	ÒWeÕll share Cheyenne,Ó Louis told Andre.
	ÒSounds fine with me,Ó Andre said.
	ÒLetÕs see which of us can make them cry the most,Ó Louis suggested.
	ÒTheyÕre already crying,Ó Andre replied.  And we were, though I at least tried my best not to.  I knew it would hurt and we would not be spared.
	
	When we rode through the Indian village at dusk they turned out to watch our jeep pass.  Louis drove slowly, as a hunter might, showing off his catch.  Polly, Cheyenne and I could not sit.  We were bound over the back seat, our asses high, still frigging ourselves to try to assauge away the pain that theyÕd inflicted, Louis and Andre, high up in the mountain crags, amidst the diasies.  We were red-faced, sobbing.  Our tits swung with every movement of the jeepÕs rolling wheels.  Polly gasped anew as a fresh orgasm seized her.  It was our only hope of relief.  Our bottoms, sore and ruthlessly cloven by our boyfriendÕs pricks, red as the sunset, offered us no respite.  Only our fingers could, working constantly at our slits.  WeÕd been fucked anally, not in our pussies, perhaps purposely, so weÕd still be playing with ourselves when the jeep drove down from the mountain.  I knew we were making a spectacle of ourselves.  I heard an Indian woman laugh.  Young children giggled.  They knew we were being naughty.  They did not know of whips or penises but they knew girls must not rub themselves.  Even the littlest girls knew that.  Yet here we were, big girls by comparison, and we were frigging ourselves, and they could see by our bottoms that weÕd paid for our naughtiness.  What they did not know was that we had not frigged ourselves and then been punished for it.  WeÕd been punished, despite our goodness, erotically punished, and weÕd had to frig ourselves as our only hope of taking our minds off our bottoms.
	Rose received us back at the castle with hugs and kisses.  We were bathed and put to bed, all in my room, so we could console each other.  The men had not bothered to put salve on our bottoms but Rose did, after our bath.  
	ÒStop playing with yourselves, girls.  ItÕs over,Ó Rose told us before turning out our light.  Then she clicked it off, shut the door, and we cried ourselves to sleep.  Downstairs, Louis and Andre smoked cigars and regaled Rose with our torments.  I heard her tinkling laughter through the open window, LouisÕs gruff descriptions.  I could not hear his precise words but there was no question he and Andre were telling her about their day.  
	In my dreams, after IÕd fallen asleep, I saw Rose make love to Louis and Andre, and I know my dreams were true.

	ÒSuch bad little girls!Ó Rose scolded, waking us at first light.  I was hungry.  IÕd not eaten all the previous day, and had quite forgotten about it, after my spanking up in the mountains.  She served us breakfast in bed.  We ate like spoilt children, the three of us all in a row.  Our covers were pulled up to just below our breasts, letting our nipples show quite naughtily, but we revelled in the naughtiness, not caring, and Rose did not mind either.  She left her own breasts bare so that we would feel more comfortable in her presence.  We were all females.  We ate with our fingers and she helped us drink our cocoa, lifting our heads for us so that we would not spill it on ourselves.
	As I sipped my cocoa, feeling so special and cared for, I felt my bottom against the smooth white sheet.  Just the pressing of the sheet against it made me wince a little.  I heard Polly wimper as she shifted within the bed to better accept her cocoa.  And Cheyenne, our newest friend, mewled out a sulky little whine.  
	ÒMy, such pampered little girls,Ó Rose chided.  She wiped my chin with a napkin.  IÕd let a little of the cocoa escape my lips.  ÒYou receive a nice punishment and all you can think to do it whine about it.Ó  Polly, despite her bottom, eagerly opened her mouth and vyed, like a little kitten, for a sip from my cup.  Rose gave her a taste and Polly greedily drank down the rest of my portion.
	We were not harmed.  No, just reminded every moment of how our bottoms had been treated.  Whipped, with all manner of implements, all of them carried aloft into the mountains by poor Polly, the littlest of us.
	As unnecessary and unpleasant as our whipping had been, the ride home had been even worse.  Sitting was, of course, out of the question.  Even we knew that.  So the men had simply dumped us over the back seat of their jeep and strapped us down to it.  Fortunately, perhaps to show they were not utter brutes, one of them went to the trouble of uncovering a coil of soft rope.  HeÕd rummaged around in the jeep until heÕd found it.  I didnÕt see who.  I was too busy crying. 
	Our upper thighs had rested against the seat back, not our hips.  This was to permit our hands to freely frig ourselves.  It was a necessity.  I donÕt think I could have borne the ride back if it werenÕt for my busy fingers.  Even hiking down the mountain, forced to carry the very packs that had precipitated our distress, we had to play with ourselves.  All three of us, myself, Cheyenne, and Polly, had traipsed down the mountainside with at least one hand busily fondling our slit.  Meanwhile, the men followed, leering at our bottoms.  Their loins were utterly satisfied.  They had pried their way into our clenching bottomholes with their Ômeat-packer pricks,Õ as they called them, and it was hardly a wrong name for them for I felt more stuffed than a Christmas turkey when Louis, who had to work at me for quite some time, finally got his awful Thing up me.  I could not relax with the severity of the strapping heÕd given me.  HeÕd had to fight his way into my nether hole, while I screamed and kept gyrating my bottom and clenching and squeezing it, trying to throw off the scalding burns from the strap.  
	The air, passing over our upraised tushies on the ride back down, had proven a welcome relief.  I remember wiggling my ass at the sun, not caring if it tanned me, hoping to somehow cool down my bottom in the wind.  
	The men deposited our backpacks in the small bed at the back of the jeep.  My chin bounced on my backpack as they drove us home.  To the castle.  It was our home now.  
	ÒIt hoits!Ó Polly had sobbed to me as the sun set.  
	ÒKeep rubbing!Ó IÕd shouted back to her between my own sobs.  A moment later sheÕd crooned into orgasm.  The wind blew through our hair, streaming it out beyond our faces.  Our backs flexed as we worked ourselves into orgasm after orgasm.  We were very wet girls by the time we got back to the castle.
	ÒThere.  BreakfastÕs all done,Ó Rose announced a little later.  She laid down her knife and fork.  WeÕd all eaten from the same silverware.  It was easier that way.  Polly smacked her lips.
	ÒMmmm!  I liked my eggs,Ó she declared.
	ÒLetÕs just hope the eggs in your womb donÕt like all the sperm thatÕs been pumped into you,Ó Rose replied.  ÒI havenÕt been keeping up on your pills like I should have.Ó
	ÒItÕs okay.  I was fucked up the butt yesterday,Ó Polly replied.  She spoke quite frankly, as if telling teacher sheÕd caught a frog in her palm, or memorized her multiplication tables.
	ÒAnd how was it, darling?Ó Rose asked, caressing PollyÕs face.  The girl looked down.  Her eyes gazed at her nipples.  I watched as the tips hardened.  
	ÒIt was...bigggg,Ó Polly answered.
	ÒAndre fucked you?Ó Rose asked.
	ÒMmm hmm,Ó Polly nodded.  She bobbed her chin.  ÒHe was weally big but I just kept bearing down, like he told me, opening my bottomcheeks as much as I could.  Except, it was hard to breathe Ôcause his penis actually pushed the air right out of me!Ó Polly exclaimed.
	ÒIt always feels that way when a man fucks you, up the bottom I mean,Ó Rose said.  She stroked PollyÕs blonde hair.  She lifted a strand to get it out of PollyÕs eyes.  ÒYouÕll get used to it, darling.  And as for you, Fleurry,Ó she said.  Her eyes met mine even as she continued playing with PollyÕs hair.  ÒLouis wants you put into a butt-harness.  You know, the little item I told you about earlier.  YouÕll wear it all day from now on at the castle.  He insists he wants you more accessible.Ó
	I bit my lip.  I did not want to be... altered.  Rose knew my apprehension and, as if to console me, she slid a finger into my mouth.  I bit down on it.  I sucked it and looked up at her with wide eyes.
	ÒSome men wish to have their girls made more receptive, using such a device,Ó she explained simply.  I was aware of Cheyenne, next to me, swallowing.  Her throat was dry.  Our cups were empty.  She was swallowing fear.  Polly said nothing.  She listened, watching the tips of her nipples.  She knew no such device was intended for her.  Andre liked her just as she was.  
	We bathed and tidied up in the bathroom.  Then Rose took us downstairs to show our bottoms to the men.
	Trooping into the parlor, I was amazed to see we were not alone.  Rose had preceeded us by a few minutes.  She sat interviewing a young mother and her husband.  With them were thier two daughters.  They were moppets, kindergarten-age, squirming in their seats and oblivious to what their mother and father were discussing.
	ÒIÕll want daycare for the children,Ó I heard the motherÕs voice say.  She turned and saw us.  Polly, myself, and Cheyenne were utterly nude.  Louis and Andre were seated on the sofa in their tuxes and we marched up to them and turned around.
	ÒOooh, theyÕre naked!Ó one of the womanÕs moppets exclaimed.
	ÒTheyÕve been bad, girls,Ó their father told them.  Their mother would have shushed them, I think, but her face was ashen and she was sitting very stiffly beside her husband.
	ÒWe have nursury facilities on the premises,Ó Rose said to the young mother.  She was writing on a pad.  ÒSo youÕve not had enjoyable sex since the birth of the twins?Ó 
	ÒNo,Ó the father of the moppets answered.
	ÒIt happens sometimes.  A female gets pregnant, becomes a mother, and then feels the pressure of her new babies.  IÕm sure it was especially true in your case, with twins.  But thereÕs no reason you canÕt both resume an active sex life.  Sometimes the woman just needs to be reawakened.  We have all the necessary things for that here.  As you can see, we help young girls get in touch with their bodies all the time here.Ó
	ÒYes,Ó the young mother answered.  The father looked at us with an interested eye.
	I felt Louis palm my bottom.  It didnÕt hurt too much, except his hand was calloused and their roughness made me flinch.
	ÒOh!  You spanked me too HARD yesterday,Ó Polly told her boyfriend Andre.  Louis laughed.  Cheyenne stood between us, waiting her turn, just as sheÕd had to wait for her turn yesterday upon the mountain.  At least today the hands passing over us were consoling ones.
	ÒBend down,Ó Louis told me.  I leaned forward and reached down and grasped my ankles.  He pried apart my nether cheeks and examined my hole.
	ÒI told her weÕd begin widening it today,Ó Rose said to Louis.
	ÒGood,Ó he answered.  He pressed the pad of his pointing finger against my hineyhole.
	ÒI donÕt want mine made bigger!Ó Polly said, as Andre made her bend over, and Cheyenne too.
	ÒAnother year and weÕll do it, maybe,Ó Andre mused.  ÒOr perhaps IÕll have you branded back here.  DonÕt squeeze your cheeks so.  IÕm trying to see into your hole.Ó
	ÒI know!  ThatÕs why IÕm trying to squeeze it shut!Ó Polly blurted, but the prying of AndreÕs fingers finally won out and he treated himself to a close examination of her.  Polly wiggled, rocking to and fro on her heels, an impatient child waiting to be let up.  Her breasts swung freely under her chest.  I wondered if weÕd been ruined at all by our ride back home in the jeep.  Our tits had swung like fruit in a windstorm, jounced and jostled by the jeep.  WeÕd been without bras, of course.  WeÕd not brought any.  WeÕd ridden unprotected, despite the best efforts of our mothers to keep us in training bras from the minute our breasts had started growing.  I looked at mine.  They seemed okay.  Louis reached out and passed his hand over my dangling nipples.  He liked them, anyway.  He plumped my breasts in his palms and for a moment I thought he would rise up and unzip himself and take me right there, in front of the two little girls.
	Perhaps he might have, but Rose uttered his name and his hands slipped away from my tits and he slapped my flank to make me stand up again.
	ÒYou do not mind if your wife is fucked by others?Ó Rose asked the husband of the young mother matter-of-factly.
	ÒNo,Ó he answered.  His eyes were on us.  Three underage girls with our tits wobbling and our bottoms quite well-spanked.  The twin little girls giggled.  One of them lifted her dress and began playing with herself.
	ÒDonÕt,Ó their mother said.  She slapped away the girlÕs hand.  But the little one went right back to frigging herself, and her sister soon followed.
	ÒNo harm will come to my daughters?Ó the wife asked.  
	ÒThey will be returned to you as virginal as they are now,Ó Rose smiled.  ÒGirls,Ó she said, addressing them.  ÒThe reason the big girls across the room got spanked is because they played with themselves like youÕre doing now.Ó
	ÒOoooh!  I donÕt want a spanking!Ó the one who had started the game of frigging announced.  She withdrew her hand from her panties.  Her sister copied her, pulling her hand up quickly and abruptly.
	ÒThatÕs better, girls,Ó Rose told them.  Their father nodded at them approvingly.  
	A young woman walked into the parlor.  It was the neatly dressed maid whoÕd attended to Polly and I on our first night.  She had on her traditional maidÕs costume, complete with its perky white hat and apron, plus a skirt made of black cloth that was shorter than any maid might wear in ordinary employment, but not so short as to show anything if she was careful not to bend over.
	ÒKelly, take these two to the nursery,Ó Rose told her.  She pointed at the two kindergarten girls.  ÒTheyÕre frisky.  Best to put both of the them naked in the baby pool and give them some toys.  Is little Johnnie about?Ó
	ÒYesÕm, heÕs been showing me his cock repeatedly this morning and I donÕt know what to do!Ó Maria said.  There was a look of exasperation in her voice.
	ÒWell, he can go swimming with these two,Ó Rose said.  ÒTheyÕre all the same age.  There should be no harm in it.Ó  She turned and cocked an eyebrow at the girlsÕ mother.  She nodded, just a small nod, but enough to show her approval.
	ÒI played with boys when I was their age.  It was... fun,Ó the girlsÕ mother said.  ÒNo fucking, of course.Ó
	ÒOf course not,Ó Rose answered.  ÒIÕll make sure no perverts barge into their nursery.  And Kelly,Ó she turned her head.  ÒMake sure Johnnie doesnÕt get out of hand.Ó
	ÒYesÕm.  I donÕt think he knows of such things, actually,Ó she replied.  ÒHe seems not to know yet that he can diddle himself.
	ÒRight.  Well, these two will teach him that, IÕm sure,Ó Rose replied.
	Kelly beckoned to the two girls and they leapt from the chair they were sharing.  They were eager to get out of the stuffy parlor.  Their mother lifted a hand to call them to kiss her goodbye.  Rose caught her hand, held it.  She shook her head Ôno.Õ  The girls raced from the room and Kelly had to run to catch them.  Her dress flipped up in back and I saw the girlsÕ father gaze with interest at her pantied rear.
	ÒWell, letÕs get started then,Ó Rose said to the girlsÕ mother as soon as theyÕd left.  ÒStand up and take off your clothes.Ó
	ÒMy..?Ó the young mother protested.
	ÒShow me everything youÕve got, darling.  DonÕt be ashamed of yourself.  You look to me like youÕve got a great body!  IÕll need to see your cunt to see what birthing those two darling girls has done to your sex.  And your breasts, too, to see what effect nursing has had.  Precious little, IÕll bet.  I think most of your inhibitions are just in your mind.  But donÕt worry, dear, weÕll rid you of those here at Cunt Castle!Ó She smiled as she spoke the name of the place.  I felt my tummy tighten and, looking at the mother, I know hers did.  What an awful name!  Yet the mother, with her husband prodding her, stood up.  She fiddled with the buttons on her blouse.
	ÒWeÕll take her right upstairs and give her a good caning to get her nice and weepy,Ó Rose told the young motherÕs husband.  ÒYes, dear, everything.  Take your clothes right off.  YouÕll be crying and moaning and showing us how nicely your ass wiggles in a few minutes.  DonÕt be shy.  ThereÕs no point to it.  Here at Cunt Castle all must be seen, and continuously too.  You wonÕt have need of any clothes for days to come!Ó
	ÒOh, I donÕt want to,Ó the mother whined.  Her knees bent and her legs seemed about to collapse underneath her.  Yet, somehow, she kept her fingers working, and I watched as the buttons of her blouse opened, showing her belly and her curves. 
	Louis and Andre stared past us.  I think they were fascinated by the sight of this young mother shedding her purity and agreeing to be broken in at the castle.  Her husband developed a pronounced tent in his pants.  Polly and Cheyenne and I, not able to sit, stood and watched as the mother undressed herself.  Her blouse fell away.  She reached behind herself and unzipped her dress.
	ÒOh, what is happening?Ó I heard a youthful voice cry.  My head snapped toward the doorway.  It was one of the twins!  Kelly appeared and scooped her up.
	ÒBut what is mommie doing?Ó the girl asked.  
	ÒSheÕs undressing, dear,Ó Kelly answered.  She sounded distressed.  
	ÒBut this isnÕt our house,Ó the little one persisted.  I heard no more.  Her mother, blushing, continued removing her clothes.  She reached back and unhooked her bra.  It popped open.  She shed it.  Her tits proved large and firm.  Nursing had not harmed them.  I was glad.  I wanted babies too, but I didnÕt want to lose my figure.
	The young wife slid off her panties.  
	ÒMmm, a nice bush,Ó Rose said.  She lifted a hand and plucked at it with her fingers.  ÒTurn around, dear.  Show me your ass.Ó  The young mother gulped and turned on her feet.  Behind her the plump fullness of her ass spread out before RoseÕs gaze.  Motherhood had broadened her seat and given it a mature look.  It was quite different from PollyÕs slim little ass, which still resembled the twinsÕ.  
	ÒOh, I should like to go swimming in a baby pool too,Ó Polly sighed.  
	ÒThere is a nursery for big girls up in the attic,Ó Rose said, turning to Louis and Andre.  ÒPlease take your young women up there.Ó  
	But Louis ignored Rose.  ÒSir,Ó he said, speaking to the twinsÕ father.  ÒIf I may, I would love to fuck your wife for you.Ó
	ÒOh, Brent!  You would NEVER!Ó the young mother blurted.  She turned to her husband.
	ÒIt would be a waste of opportunities if he didnÕt,Ó Rose suggested to the father.
	ÒCould I ask for a trade?Ó the father, Brent, replied to my Louis.
	ÒWhich do you prefer?Ó Louis asked.  He passed his hand in a sweeping gesture along the level of our bottoms.  We stood like children before Brent, although across the room from him.
	ÒIÕd like all three,Ó Brent answered.  ÒMy wifeÕs worth it.Ó
	ÒSounds okay,Ó Andre nodded to Louis.  ÒWe could both do her.Ó
	ÒLouis!Ó I cried.  I turned and looked at my lover.  Would he give me away so easily to a man we didnÕt even know?
	ÒAgreed,Ó Louis said.  He stood.  He and Andre and Brent all got up and shook hands on the matter.
	ÒIÕll have you fitted into your butt belt later,Ó Rose reminded me.  Was I still to be widened for Louis even though he gave me away so cavalierly?  I didnÕt like that.  
	ÒGood morning girls,Ó Brent said.  He came up to us and eyed us like a farmer at an auction of domesticated animals.  He was tall and good-looking.  But still, he was older than Louis, and did not have LouisÕ broad build.  ÒLetÕs go up to the attic,Ó he said.  He gestured for us to lead the way to the door.  Louis and Andre, meanwhile, made the acquaintance of BrentÕs wife.  She was as nude as ourselves now, and I guessed weÕd all be feeling like tarts before the day was over.

	To get to the attic we found we had to climb up a ladder.  To my dismay, Brent stood below and watched as, one by one, Polly and Cheyenne and I climbed up.  Our tushies, still red from our spankings the day before, shimmied as we climbed.  There was nothing we could do to keep him from staring at the full glory of our fannys, right into our clenching cracks, showing our bottomholes as we lifted our legs up to the next rung.  They were widely spaced, as if to force us to show ourselves more freely.  Of course our cunts were completely at the mercy of his prying eyes.  I tried to cover myself with my hand but sighed aloud as I realized climbing a ladder one-handed, especially one with such widely spaced rungs, just wasnÕt safe.
	Polly went up first.  Brent watched her with a fatherÕs attentive eye, as if afraid she might fall.  Next Cheyenne went, and finally myself.  There was a trap door at the top but Polly managed to lift it to let us through.
	ÒOh, swings!Ó I heard Polly exclaim.  By the time I got up I found sheÕd gone to a small swingset in the attic and was pushing at a swing with her hands.  It was an infant swing.  It had a full seat, rising right up to the waist, a kind of bucket, actually, but with leg holes for the passengerÕs legs to stick through.  And there was a third hole, between the twin leg holes, for something...
	Stepping closer, I saw the third hole between the leg holes wasnÕt the only addition to the atticÕs infant swings.  Down below, where our seats might sit, there was a hole through which some object might be pushed into the fanny.
	ÒWould you like to swing?Ó Brent asked Polly.
	ÒOh yes, please!Ó Polly exclaimed.  ÒI like swinging.Ó  
	ÒPolly,Ó I cautioned.  I felt I should warn her about the extra holes.  But before I could, Brent had lifted her up, just like one might lift up a baby.  PollyÕs legs wiggled as he slotted her into the seat and fitted her legs through the swingÕs leg holes.
	ÒWheee!Ó Polly shouted.  Brent got behind her and began pushing her in the swing.
	ÒOh, IÕll do it!Ó Cheyenne offered.  She seemed happy about the swing, as happy as Polly.  Neither of them noticed what I did.  There was a generous hole over PollyÕs slit, through which Brent might introduce some unwanted object right into her.  And where her small bottom sat, there was a hole through which he might push himself yet again.
	When Polly had gotten her swing going nicely, Brent called Cheyenne and I over to him.  He sat down in a childÕs chair next to a childÕs table.  Cheyenne and I took seats of our own.  They were small.  They made my knees stick up and my ass complained to me about their hard plastic surface.  Brent sat with his own legs spread out.  There was a visible spear growing in his crotch.  It pointed straight up with his need.
	Cheyenne looked happy.  She seemed to enjoy being with this man.  I was ambivalent.  It was all very well for her, perhaps, but my boyfriend was downstairs fucking this manÕs wife!
	ÒYou have a boner,Ó Cheyenne giggled.  She gazed pointedly at BrentÕs erection.
	ÒWhen I was in nursery school we always had ice cream!Ó Polly called from her swing.  ÒChocolate or vanilla.  Every day.  Whichever we wished!Ó
	Brent thought a moment, then gazed about the room.  ÒI want you two to see if Polly can have some ice cream,Ó he told Cheyenne and I.  ÒMaybe thereÕs some Kool-Aid at least.Ó
	ÒAlright,Ó I answered.  I saw a small refrigerator next to a set of toy cabinets.  I went over to them, bent, letting him see (there was nothing I could do otherwise) my bottom.
	ÒKeep your legs apart!Ó Brent called to me.  Ah, he knew the rules of the castle.  Reluctantly I widened my stance.  He looked with interest at my cunny, snug between my legs. 
	There was nothing in the toy cabinets except empty boxes and cans.  I knelt and opened the fridge.  God must have blessed Polly.  There, within, stood two big tubs of ice cream.  They were brand new.  I lugged one out and called Cheyenne over.  We each brought one to the table.  I found an ice cream scooper in the toy cabinet.
	ÒThere arenÕt any bowls,Ó I lamented.
	ÒCatch, Polly!Ó Cheyenne called.  She had opened her tub of ice cream.  It contained strawberry.  She scooped out a ball of fresh strawberry ice cream and flung the scoop at Polly.
	ÒAaack!Ó Polly cried.  The ball of scooped ice cream struck her right between her breasts.  It slid down her tummy and nestled atop her slit.
	ÒOoooh, itÕs cold!Ó Polly lamented.  She picked up the ice cream, all the same, and held it to her mouth and bit into it.  ÒI donÕt really like Strawberry,Ó she said.  
	ÒThen have some Vanilla!Ó I cried.  Getting into the spirit of things, I scooped up vanilla from my own tub of ice cream and tossed it at her.
	ÒYou missed!Ó Polly replied.  Sitting in her swing, she looked glumly back at the place on the floor where my ice cream ball had landed.
	ÒIÕll try again,Ó I said.  I passed my hand over my forehead and scooped up another scoop.  I tossed it at her, aiming carefully.  
	ÒOoooh, got it!Ó Polly said gleefully.  Reaching out her hands, she just barely managed to catch the ice cream.  She put it to her lips and began eating it, while the other scoop lay on her thigh.  ÒOoops!Ó she said.  Looking down, eating the vanilla, she saw that the strawberry scoop had once again rolled down onto her slit.  She picked it up, decided to try to hold both scoops at once.  She was beginning to look quite messy.
	ÒWhat a clever idea,Ó Brent mused.  He looked at Cheyenne and I.  ÒYou two get on either side of me and throw ice cream at each other,Ó he said.  
	I didnÕt like the idea, but Cheyenne was pleasantly surprised by it.  She plunked down her tub on BrentÕs left knee, while I put my tub on his right.  I found another ice cream scooper for her in the cabinet.  Brent unzipped himself so any lost ice cream might fall on his prick.  We both gasped as we saw how big he was.  Not the size of Louis and Andre, but still a worthy member.  I felt a little better about entertaining him.
	With our hair loose about our shoulders, our makeup still perfect from our morning toilet, Cheyenne and I got on either side of Brent.  We eyed each other.  
	ÒWhoÕs first?Ó I asked Cheyenne.
	ÒI donÕt know.  I guess I can go first,Ó she replied.  ÒSay something insulting to me.Ó
	ÒYouÕre a slut,Ó I told her.
	ÒOkay, now hold still while I throw my ice cream at you,Ó she said.  Brent waited, watching us both, stroking his prick.  Cheyenne stuck her tongue out the corner of her mouth and scooped up a big scoop of ice cream from her tub.  Then she gazed at me, while I stood across from her with my hands on my hips.
	ÒYouÕre a slut and a lousy shot,Ó I told her.  ÒAnd donÕt get any in my hair.Ó
	ÒYour hair on your head or your muff?Ó Cheyenne asked, and she launched her scoop right at my private.
	ÒYikes!Ó I exclaimed.  I watched as her scoop flew across and landed right where sheÕd aimed it.  I found myself looking at a big ball of ice cream right on my delta.  Slowly it slid off and plopped like a turd to the floor.  Behind it left a runny smear of strawberry in my pubic hair.
	ÒAlright, my turn, wise ass,Ó I told her.  In answer, Cheyenne turned around and happily mooned me.
	ÒSome ice cream would feel good on my bottom!Ó Cheyenne said invitingly.
	ÒOkay, youÕre going to get it, then,Ó I answered.  I tossed well, but she flinched at the last moment.
	ÒNo fair!  You have to stand still,Ó I told her.
	ÒRats,Ó Cheyenne said.  ÒI didnÕt mean to.  It just happened.Ó  She resumed her salacious pose.
	ÒI want to play too!Ó Polly cried.  But she was stuck in her swing.  She could not get out of it without someone lifting her out.
	Cheyenne and Brent and I ignored her.  I wanted to have my second shot.  I scooped, aimed again, and plopped my ball of ice cream right on CheyenneÕs left cheek.
	ÒOooch!  ThatÕs cold!Ó Cheyenne shivered.  The ice cream fell to the floor, leaving a smear in its wake that was white.
	ÒAt least this way youÕll get a white bottom,Ó I told her.
	ÒMy turn!Ó she replied.  She made me stand still and we continued like this, back and forth, until we were both covered with splats of ice cream.  Twice we hit each other on the boobs, and once I struck her in the face, not meaning too, but aiming too high for her tits.  Polly bleated all the while that she wanted to join us.  Finally we bombed her with ice cream, just to make sure she was as messy as we were.  She almost cried, but held back her tears, knowing it was just in fun.  Brent rubbed himself the entire time.  I feared he might cum but I didnÕt really care.  I was more worried about what was happening downstairs with Louis.
	ÒWell, thereÕs only one way to clean up ice cream that I know of,Ó Brent said.  He pointed to a small childÕs bed in the corner of the room.  ÒYou and Fleurry go and lick it off each other,Ó he told Cheyenne.  
	Cheyenne, enjoying her nudity and with an eye toward the promise of BrentÕs erection, crossed over to me and took my hand.  ÒLetÕs make up,Ó she said.
	ÒAlright,Ó I replied.  We kissed.  We did it for Brent.  She took my face in her hands and we wiggled our bottoms as our tongues touched.  I felt her nipples perk to mine.  Polly, still unsatisfied, begged to join us.  Cheyenne took my hand and led me over to the bed.  I waited while she turned down the covers.  Then we both slipped into it.  We kissed again, briefly, and then I stretched out on the bed.  She knelt beside me.  She smiled at me.  I smiled back, waiting for her tongue.  I glanced at Brent.  
	ÒPlay with yourself,Ó I encouraged him.  I wanted him to cum so we might escape downstairs.
	ÒAlright,Ó Brent answered.  ÒSee if you can make me cum.Ó
	ÒOooh, IÕm tired of swinging!  I want OUT!Ó Polly moaned.
	ÒQuiet, girl!  Stick your finger through that hole in the front of your swing and play with yourself right along with me,Ó Brent ordered her.
	ÒOooh, this is naughty,Ó Polly said, discovering for the first time that there was an extra leg hole in her swing, unused.  She reached over the front of her swingseat and poked her finger at her slit.  
	ÒYouÕre still a slut,Ó I said to Cheyenne.
	ÒI know, but IÕll bite off your nipples if you call me that again,Ó she said softly to me.  She lowered her face to my tits and began licking them.  I sighed.  I parted my legs more widely and her hand slid down my creamy belly to my cunt.  ÒYou taste good,Ó Cheyenne told me.
	ÒThanks,Ó I answered.
	I shivered and turned my head on its side.  What an unusual room we were in!  Some awful pedophile must have designed it, for it was, in effect, a playroom for very small children.  There was the toy cabinet, made of plastic.  There was the swingset, with twin swings, designed for infants, except with bigger seats.  There was a childrenÕs table, low to the ground, with small seats designed to hold little childrenÕs bottoms.  I saw Play-Doh, rattles, pacifiers, lying about aimlessly, waiting to be picked up and played with.  But also there were dildos, of varying sizes and designs.  Plus condoms, casually laid out so they might be picked up and used at a momentÕs notice.  Off in one corner there was a baby pool, already inflated, with a hose stretching out from a faucet in the wall so it could be easily filled.  Within it, waiting, were water wings, a toy telescope, a pinwheel, and a plastic boat.  Beside it stood the de rigeur bottle of Mr. Bubble, housed in a bottle shaped like Winnie the Pooh.  Underneath the baby pool was a big fluffy towel, laid out, for obviously any girls who got into the pool would make splashes and toss water out of the pool.  The floor itself was softly carpeted, to protect the little bare feet that were sure to scamper across it.  Above, a skylight allowed the sun to brighten the room naturally.  We might have been outside in the yard but, given all the opportunities to fuck, we were instead in a private attic, sound-proofed, with the trap door locked securely.  It would be our word against BrentÕs as to what happened here, and I guessed his would win.  We were, after all, just little girls, werenÕt we?
	Cheyenne slurped her way down my belly.  I glanced down at my tits.  They were sparkling clean, save for the saliva left behind by her tongue.
	ÒYouÕre doing a good job,Ó I shivered.  Her fingers lightly played along my slit.  
	ÒThanks,Ó she answered.  I opened my legs a little wider.  Despite my misgivings about being here, I couldnÕt deny I was enjoying myself.  I stroked my fingers along CheyenneÕs thigh.  She shifted a little.  ÒNot yet,Ó she teased.  She shifted her hips away from me so that I could not reach her slit.
	ÒWhat do you want me to do to you?Ó I laughed.  My bosoms bounced nakedly on my chest.
	ÒIÕm going to take you right to the brink, and then youÕre going to do me,Ó Cheyenne said.  She lifted her face from my body to speak to me.  There was ice cream on her nose.
	ÒYouÕre wicked,Ó I said.  I did not want to be aroused and then left hanging.
	ÒYouÕll tongue me very nicely if youÕre desperate,Ó Cheyenne said happily.  She saw my hand edging toward my cunt in response.  ÒNo, donÕt play with yourself,Ó Cheyenne warned me.  ÒIf you do IÕll find a whip and flay your bottom, and ask Brent to help me.Ó  She grabbed my hand by the wrist, lightly but firmly, a finger on her hand extended as if she were holding a teacup, and moved my hand away from myself.
	ÒWhat, are you the domme?Ó I asked her, a bit surprised.  She was the newest girl!  She had not even met Branson yet.  
	ÒYes, I am the domme, at least for now,Ó Cheyenne said to me.  She placed her face over my tummy and swirled her tongue round my navel, once, then ran it directly, in a continuous line, right down my belly and through my pubic mound to my slit.  She beavered into me and I shuddered uncontrollably.  I gritted my teeth, smiling, and bucked up my hips.
	ÒOhhhh, please donÕt,Ó I begged.  I didnÕt really want to be here with Brent.  I didnÕt want to let myself go like this.  IÕd just wanted to get him to cum, and then escape downstairs.  But now I was sinking into the abyss of pleasure, and anything might happen to me now!
	Brent came to our bedside and stood over us and massaged himself.  I looked up, then Cheyenne.  ÒPlease donÕt shoot on us,Ó I begged him.  I didnÕt really want a semen shower.  He reached down and pushed Cheyenne off me.  She toppled back and landed on her bottomcheeks.  SheÕd been kneeling over me, but she let him roughly push her back, as if she were a rag doll.  She sat with her legs open and her slit showing.  I think she wanted it more than I did, despite the licking sheÕd tantalized me with.
	ÒGet up,Ó Brent told me.
	ÒOh, please,Ó I protested.  Lying underneath CheyenneÕs attentive tongue was, I was sure, much better than anything Brent had planned for me.  But he took me by the arm and yanked me up from the bed.  I stood shivering beside him, naked as he was, warily eyeing his cock.  HeÕd undressed since Cheyenne and I had taken to the bed.  He ordered me over to the toy cabinet.  What was he thinking?
	ÒFind me a nice pair of dildos,Ó Brent said to me.  I glanced about.  There were a few lying about, intermixed with the toys someone had left out, but I guessed he found those unsatisfactory.  I opened the toy cabinet.  Well, there were none here, I realized.  But drawers down below held out some promise.  I began opening them and soon found one full of dildos, all laid out in a pile, like sausages, with a red velvet handkerchief underneath them.
	ÒPick two,Ó Brent said quietly to me.  ÒThey need to have studs on the end so they can be clipped into the holes on the infant swing.Ó
	He spoke quietly.  I bit my lower lip and tried to suppress a smile.  Cheyenne had gotten up from the bed and gone to Polly and was swinging her.  Polly, whoÕd spent the last five minutes complaining that she wanted out of the swing, was now ordering Cheyenne to push her higher and higher.
	ÒWHEEE!  Go higher!Ó I heard Polly yelling in the background as Cheyenne, her tits swinging, dutifully pushed on PollyÕs seat.  I found two well-sized dildos for her, with the proper studs, and plucked them from the drawer.  Polly would be giving quite different orders in a minute.
	Cheyenne, perhaps sensing mischief, stilled PollyÕs swing as I turned and approached them.  Polly gazed at me with childish eyes, big, round, unknowing.  I walked easily, feeling quite tingly in my slit thanks to CheyenneÕs licking, swaying my hips sexily to excite Brent.  I was getting into the mood of the moment now.  IÕd stopped thinking about escaping from the attic.  With a leap of my heart I realized that Brent, or perhaps Cheyenne, had lofted PollyÕs hands up high over her head and fitted them into cuffs.  The cuffs hung down from the overhead pole of the swingset, the horizontal pole, where the swing itself was attached.  I felt my nipples grow harder as I realized little Polly, quite nude in her swing, would be utterly at my mercy.
	ÒWhat are those for?Ó Polly asked me.  I dangled the two dildos temptingly before her eyes.
	ÒTheyÕre for you,Ó I laughed.  ÒPolly, youÕre going to sit in the Seat of Doom!Ó
	ÒNooooo!Ó Polly shrieked.  But Cheyenne put her hands to PollyÕs little ribs and held her tight in the seat.  Polly wriggled, watching, as I placed the first dildo against her slit.  There was a hole in her seat, her slit plump against the opening.  she was utterly at my disposal.
	ÒMmmm, youÕre wet, Polly.  Have you been playing with yourself?Ó I asked her.
	ÒNooo,Ó Polly gurgled, watching me with big eyes.  Brent handed me a jar of vaseline.  How thoughtful of him.  How forgetful of me not to remember it.  Quickly I larded the dildo with vaseline, sticking it into the jar and then drawing it out.
	ÒPleeeeaze,Ó Polly gasped, watching.  It was a nice big dildo and would plug her quite well.
	ÒThis is only the first of two, Polly,Ó I laughed.  ÒThe second one goes you-know-where.Ó  Cheyenne laughed with me.  Polly screamed, like a little girl might, playing at the pool.  I pushed the dildo right into her.  She was tight but my dildo was well greased and sheÕd wettened herself my being naughty in her swing.
	ÒOooh, ooh, ooooh,Ó Polly gasped, each gasp a little yelp.  The next thing I knew, Brent, our ever-handy man, was passing a penis shaped ball gag to Cheyenne.  The girl accepted it eagerly and wrapped it over PollyÕs gasping mouth.  
	ÒGooooo,Ó Polly moaned, fighting the gag.  But Cheyenne got it right in and buckled the head strap on her.  I fitted the dildo entirely within her moist slit and latched it onto the clasps on the swingseat.  Next I took the second dildo and, burrowing it in the vaseline, I proceeded to jam it up her bottomhole, right through the convenient hole that had been cut in the seat.  
	Polly was beside herself.  All three orifices of hers were plugged.  I found the butt dildo the hardest to get up her but I persevered until the task was done.  Cheyenne began swinging Polly when IÕd finished.  We looked amazing.  Tanned, healthy, with ice cream smeared over ourselves but our hair still pretty.  Polly wriggled in her seat, utterly captive, utterly unable to escape.  What a pretty picture she made!  Brent began fisting himself furiously.  I turned to him and touched a finger to the head of his cock.
	ÒYou, sir, are a pervert,Ó I told him.  And he was, too.  He must have eyed his little daughters every day, wanting them, but quite unable to have them, of course, because they were born for other men, not their father.  Now there was a real girl, with boobs and all, displayed in the seductive, captivating infant seat.  One he could fuck at will, with Cheyenne playfully pushing her.  And there was me, of course, the nearest twat.  We were all just twats, I think, and him a cock.  We cared nothing for him, nor he for us.  But we did have a healthy admiration for each otherÕs privates.
	I reached under BrentÕs cock and clasped his balls.  They were huge, hairy.  I cupped them gently, afraid to hurt them, they seemed so full and swollen.  I felt his twin eggs and carefully gave each one a little squeeze.
	ÒYouÕre in need of emptying, sir,Ó I told Brent frankly.  ÒYou could hurt yourself, trying to carry around this much sperm.  How do you manage to find pants that fit you?Ó  I squeezed each of his eggs again, more forcefully.  I think he liked the idea that I might hurt him.
	ÒOhhh,Ó Brent moaned.  His huge chest rippled with his anxiousness.  He wanted to cum, yet he did enjoy so much playing with himself, I think he just wanted to be stiff forever.  ÒIÕve had such a cold wife,Ó Brent told me.  Really, I didnÕt want to hear about his wife or his family problems, but he told me anyway.  ÒYet, every night, I had to bathe my daughters.  They were so.... open, available.Ó
	ÒYes, sir, youÕre developing quite a pedophile problem,Ó I told Brent, meanwhile taunting his balls with ever more rudeness, squeezing, pinching them a little.  Then I got an idea.  ÒYou need to watch two grown-up girls take a bath,Ó I said to him.  
	I turned to call to Cheyenne.  She was bending under PollyÕs seat.  ÒLook, these dildos can be turned on!Ó she exclaimed.  
	ÒOh, donÕt!Ó I said.  But I hadnÕt selected them with the purest of intentions.  PollyÕs eyes were wide as she realized what would happen.  Wide as saucers.  She burbled something but her penis pacifier kept us from hearing.  
	BZZZZ!  I heard suddenly, and then it was joined by a second.  Cheyenne laughed.  SheÕd turned on both of PollyÕs underneath dildos, sparing only her mouth.  
	WAAAK!  Polly screamed within the plugging fulness of her oral dildo.  She buzzed atop the twin dildos in her ass and cunt, shivering right along with them, her boobies shaking on her chest.
	ÒCome, bath time,Ó I called to Cheyenne.  I wanted to get all this ice cream off me.  I walked to the baby pool, leaving Brent to fist himself, and bent and turned on the wall faucet.  The hose gurgled and began filling the inflated pool.
	ÒOh, thank God,Ó Cheyenne said.  IÕm tired of being a walking ice cream cone.  She tossed her hair and walked over to the me.  Polly was left to suffer the buzzing visitors in her holes.  
	ÒIÕm thirsty,Ó I said.  I knelt down outside the pool and stuck my head over the rapidly rising water.  Cheyenne joined me, and together we lapped fresh water from the clean plastic pool.  Brent, meanwhile, let out a new groan of pleasure, watching our bare asses.  We tightened them.  His prick was so near, and neither of us wanted to get butt fucked by him.  We just wanted to play.  I felt my tits swaying underneath my chest as I lapped at the water.  I was female.  The male prowled somewhere behind me.  Would he swoop down and fuck me?  I hoped not.  I didnÕt want him to.  Yet I couldnÕt resist teasing him.  Fortunately, Brent just kept fisting himself, admiring us both so much that he couldnÕt decide which of us to take first!
	ÒMmm, the waterÕs cold,Ó Cheyenne said to me.
	ÒI know.  It canÕt be helped,Ó I replied.  We both got up and stepped into the chilly water.  She lifted the bubble bath and sprinkled some into the tub.  She stirred the powder with her foot to make the bubbles grow.  
	ÒSit down, cowards.  Get your bottoms wet,Ó Brent told us.  He came up to us and Cheyenne and I both sank down to avoid him.  He was as lusty as a satyr.
	ÒOhh, it IS cold,Ó Cheyenne exclaimed as her bottom touched the water.  Reluctantly she sat in it.  I sat down too.  I felt the chilly water envelope my bottom and invade my slit.  I stared at her, she at me.  
	ÒWell, weÕre seated, at least,Ó I said to her with big eyes.  ÒI hate cold baths,Ó I admitted.
	ÒMe too,Ó Cheyenne replied, but then she splashed me.  She didnÕt mind, I guess, if she made me chilly.  I splashed her back.  She picked up a loofah brush.  There was a soap squirt beside it.  Boldy she squirted my tits, first one nipple, then the other.
	ÒThe soap smells good, at least,Ó I said.  It was creamy and fragrant.
	ÒI wish it was edible,Ó Cheyenne admitted.
	ÒYou would!Ó I laughed.  She took the loofah brush and carefully began srubbing my tits.  Her strokes were bold in their carefulness.  I felt like I was a vestal virgin being prepared for some bizarre sacrifice.  Cheyenne passed the bristly sponge-like brush over my nipples.  I gasped.  
	ÒWait Ôtil I get to your slit,Ó Cheyenne smiled at me.  ÒI wonder if this would feel nice being stuffed up you?Ó  The brush was long and cylindrical, shaped like a barren cardboard center from an empty roll of paper towels.
	ÒYou are a domme,Ó I said to her.  ÒBut you havenÕt been whipped by Branson yet.  Then you can be domme.  Until then, I am.Ó
	ÒWhipped?Ó Cheyenne asked.  Her strokes slowed.  
	ÒEvery girl must be,Ó I told her.  ÒA penal whipping, as repentance for all the bad things sheÕs going to do here at the castle.Ó
	ÒHave you been?Ó she asked.  Her face was contemplative now.  SheÕd ceased washing me with the brush.  I took it from her.  
	ÒYes,Ó I answered.  I grabbed her lovely hair.  ÒTurn around.  Show me your bottom,Ó I told her.  Reluctantly Cheyenne got turned round in the make-believe tub and bent herself over.  She had to rest her elbows on the towel outside of the pool.  Half in, half out, her knees in the water but her elbows outside it, her legs splayed open in the water but her head hanging over the floor and the towel, Cheyenne presented her bottom to me.
	ÒVery good,Ó I said.  ÒYou obey well.Ó  Then I ran the loofah brush boldly between the cheeks of her ass, scrubbing her tender ass crack briskly.  Cheyenne gasped as she felt its bristly sponginess dig deep into her cleft.  ÒYes, whipped,Ó I teased her.  ÒHow sore youÕll be when itÕs all over!  But it must be done, before you can be a domme.Ó
	ÒUmph,Ó Cheyenne breathed.  I think she may have started to say Ôyes,Õ but at the last moment she stuffed her fist into her mouth and suppressed the sound so that it was inaudible.
	ÒIÕm going to cum,Ó Brent announced.  He thrust forth his hips and fisted his big cock vigorously.
	ÒCum in my mouth, then, I donÕt want it all shooting into our bath water,Ó I told him suddenly.  I turned and offered him my lips.  He thrust himself into me and I prepared myself to begin swallowing.  I wanted to get clean in this tub, however cold the water might be, and go tie up Cheyenne for her whipping.  I wanted to engineer it, to make it happen now, with me in charge of her.  Brent was just an obstacle.  Perhaps his passion could be got rid of.  Then he would leave us alone.
	ÒUnh, unh, unh,Ó Brent groaned.  He began shooting himself into my gasping mouth.  I struggled to swallow fast as his jism suddenly erupted.  My God!  I felt like IÕd put my mouth over Old Faithful!  He shot merrily, lustily, relieving himself of days, perhaps months, of sexual tension.  Meanwhile I lightly tickled CheyenneÕs slit.  She mewled soft sighs of pleasure.  Her boobies shook as mine were shaking, while Polly, poor girl, was left to be unpleasantly amused in her swing seat.                      

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