Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in 
CUNT CASTLE

Chapter Three

	The five of us squeezed into the back seat of the limo.  I think it made us feel more secure somehow, going off into the night, with nothing to protect us except our faithful driver.  He would shadow us, Rose said, to keep us out of danger.  
	ÒBut still, we must have our wits about us.  Men will be men, you know.  LetÕs support each other and help each other.  And weÕll definitely team up on any women who bug us.Ó
	ÒYes!Ó we all agreed.  So this would be a real nightclub, not something specially arranged by Rose with one of her customers.  It would be just us in our teensy bikinis against all the world.  I shivered at the thought.  Mine didnÕt even cover my bottom properly, but Rose assured me that everyone would be really cool and as daringly dressed as I.
	ÒThe beach atmosphere is totally liberating,Ó Rose told me.  ÒThe cover charge where weÕre going is $200.00 per person, so you can rest assured we wonÕt be partying will muleish college boys on spring break.  On the other hand, drug lords can afford to get in sometimes, and their cronies, so donÕt think you can just let your guard down completely.  And women are always bitchy.Ó  Polly nodded.  
	ÒYes, they always take too LONG sitting on the commode!Ó Polly said, brushing back her hair and sticking her nose up.
	ÒCommode!  Where did you learn that?Ó I asked her.
	ÒI know big words, Furry,Ó Polly told me, using my nickname.  I wasnÕt as furry as Rose, but I guess I did have more now than when I was 10.  So, furry it was, even though most men might say I needed a little more.
	ÒHow do you spell it?Ó I asked her.
	ÒCommode,Ó Polly said with an important air.  ÒC- um, O and, M and, uh, MODE!Ó Polly announced.
	ÒCan you spell potty?Ó I teased.
	ÒNo, but I can SMELL potty!Ó Polly said, giggling, and I had to pinch her for that.  For which she started pulling my hair.
	ÒGirls!  Girls!Ó Rose admonished us.  She handed us lipstick.  ÒHere, put on your makeup.  We donÕt want to be outshone at the cabana.  And brush your hair.Ó  She put down a vanity mirror for us, concealed in the ceiling.  She and JoAnn and Sylvia shared lipstick.  Polly and I dutifully made ourselves up and brushed out our hair.  We did not bother to pin it up, although Rose piled hers atop her head to give herself a regal look.  Sylvia did the same, then insisted on making JoAnnÕs brown hair into braids.  It was strange to see them without their bottoms and bosoms bare.  Polly and I still wore our wristlets and anklets of steel, and our collars.  We wanted to take them off but Rose said no.
	As I contemplated the effect my collar and bracelets would have on the people at the cabana, Polly began counting stars.  We sat beside each other.  Rose said it would take awhile to reach the cabana.  It was farther away than the saloon.  Soon I found myself counting stars with Polly to ease my misgivings.  
	Gradually the lights of the city became a dim glow in the distance.  The twinkled like some distant Bethlehem, then like Jerusalem, perhaps, and finally like New York City, although we were of course quite far away from all those destinations.  The light from the city began to overshadow the stars and finally Polly and I couldnÕt see them well enough any more to count.  WeÕd lost count, anyway, and set instead to figuring out the constellations.  Polly found what she thought was a bull, with a rather large endowment where it mattered.  All I could see was a snake winding across the heavens, poised to bite me.
	Rose handed out shoes for each of us, plus a towel to wipe our feet with.  I passed the towel through my toes, savoring the feel of it.  It was hot.  Rose had kept it in a little steamer.  There were three towels in all.  We shared them.    
	ÒI sent the driver to pick up the best possible shoes for dancing in,Ó Rose said.  ÒGiven, of course, that they must be high heels.  It wouldnÕt be proper for us to dance in anything less, I donÕt think.Ó  
	I looked at my pair.  They were very nice.  Open toed, open heeled, with straps to tie round my ankles, over my anklet bracelets.  I helped Polly tie hers on and she helped me with mine.  We threaded them through clasps on our leg manacles to make them more difficult to take off.
	ÒIf a man canÕt get your shoes off he wonÕt try to put you in bed,Ó Polly intoned, sharing some old wives tale from primary school.  She told me she and her friends used to double-knot their tennies before walking home from school.  I simply nodded.  It was no use arguing with her.  She was always certain of what she told me, until, that is, experience proved her wrong.  Like a child sure that gum wonÕt stick in her hair, or that the oven isnÕt really so hot, or that you canÕt wet your panties if you hold your breath.  There was no way to prove her wrong on this point with just five women in the car, so I skipped it.
	The buildings of the city finally enveloped us.  We travelled over a bridge and found ourselves at once within canyon walls of windowed concrete.  I gazed up at them.  Behind each was a different story, I knew.  Somewhere someone was fucking, no doubt, gazing down at our limo, perhaps, as it passed.  A rush of cars swept us along the street and we sped like flotsam, I thought, being just a passenger, to our destination.
	We pulled up to a busy sidewalk.  The driver got out amidst swirls of people.  They were dressed mostly in tropical clothes.  The beach was nearby.  Some people wore just their swimsuits, nothing more, for which I was grateful.  Our driver opened the door where Polly and I sat.  We were the first to get out.  I felt the eyes of the passersby staring into the vee of my legs as I got up from the seat of the limo and exited through the door.  Rose followed quickly, ushered us forward.  JoAnn and Sylvia followed.  The club was only a few steps away.  We crossed the sidewalk, and Rose placed a wad of bills in the doormanÕs open palm.  He was dressed like a royal servant, with top hat, gloves, long boots and a long tailed jacket.  He nodded, passed the money to a woman behind a window.  She counted it quickly as we passed through the door to the club, a glass door that a second doorman opened for us.  He was dressed as the first.  Nobody checked our I.D., although it would be saying too much of the doormanÕs manners to say he didnÕt check us out.
	I found myself huddled with Rose and Polly and JoAnn and Sylvia inside a large lobby with flashing strobe lights.  In the center, people were dancing.  Beyond a band played.  Above us was a balcony of glass, where yet more people danced.  It stretched around the four walls of the club and, looking up, polly and I found ourselves staring straight into the crotches of women and men.  Most wore swimsuits, like we did, although a few more modest dancers wore clothes.  A waitress passed overhead, wearing a miniskirt, but it was quite useless with Polly and I staring straight up from below.
	ÒShe doesnÕt have any panties on!Ó Polly cried, pointing upward.
	ÒBe good dear,Ó Rose told her.  ÒPlease donÕt point at peopleÕs genitals.Ó  She herded us toward the dance floor, while the doorman whoÕd let us in nodded to another who approached Rose and asked her which table sheÕd like.  There were round tables scattered about, many of them filled.  The ones that were empty belonged to dancers.  
	ÒWhichever one is closest to the floor,Ó Rose said to the man.  Despite her bikini, she had a purse with her.  A small, leather one, black as her suit.  She handed it to the man to use to mark our table with.  She kept it in the limo for just such uses, she told me.  
	ÒItÕs got a few condoms in it if you meet someone really special,Ó she confided.
	ÒA few what?Ó Polly asked.  JoAnn and Sylvia had gone dancing with Rose before.  They did not pay any attention, knowing already what Rose was telling me.
	ÒYou know, rubbers,Ó I told Polly.
	ÒGood,Ó she replied.  ÒI shoot rubber bands at the boys at school when they bother me!Ó
	ÒNot rubber-Ó I began, but gave up.  I had no real interest in shouting over the music about condoms, especially as several eager men were already approaching us.
	ÒGood evening, gentlemen.  IÕm the chaperone for these girls.  Would you like to ask them something?Ó Rose said with a smile.  JoAnn and Sylvia, not included in RoseÕs little introduction, let themselves be led away by men who slipped up alongside them.  As for Polly and I, we found ourselves staring at two extremely studly dudes who vied, at that moment, with Louis and Andre and Jack for my liking.  They wore abbreviated swimsuits within which their balls and organs seemed to be almost bristling.  The nearest had on a cut-off t-shirt, showing me his belly, while PollyÕs suitor wore an open vest.  I wondered if he were gay.  They both looked to be in their early 20Õs, just old enough to know when to hold and to fold, I suspected, and the thought excited me.  To my surprise Rose approached the one I was contemplating and pointedly stuck her finger in the front of his suit.  Pulling it open, she stared right down into his equipment.  I wished I could see, but he was just a little too far back from me.  I would have to rely on RoseÕs judgement.
	ÒWell, you certainly LOOK healthy,Ó Rose said to the young man.  A girl came up between them, missing her bra, wearing just bikini panties.  Her breasts jogged easily on her chest.  She wore long glass earrings.  They looked almost penis-shaped.  Her lips were wet and open.  I felt an urge to stick my finger in her mouth and watch her suck it.
	ÒHi,Ó she said to me, her voice soft despite the amplified music.  Yet I could hear her.  I could read her lips.  She seemed utterly unaffected.  She was no more than 16.  I felt a kinship with her.  She glanced along the nearest boyÕs belly into the suit Rose still was inspecting.
	ÒOooh, cool,Ó the girl sighed.  She brushed a hand along her belly.  It was flat, with the gentlest of swelling right where her navel was, as if to promise something to us all if she were fucked.  
	Rose let the manÕs suit snap shut.  ÒYou have permission to dance with my charges,Ó Rose told him.
	ÒAre they your daughters?Ó the man asked Rose.  She flushed a little.
	ÒDo I look that old?  No, of course not.  TheyÕre not my daughters!Ó  She pushed the first man aside and went to the other.  She was no less frank with him, despite his muscles and his hard-edged demeanor.
	ÒYes, I see youÕre well equipped too,Ó Rose complimented the man.  In retaliation he pulled open the front of her bikini bottoms.
	ÒMonkey see, monkey do,Ó he said to excuse himself, and looked with candid ardor at her bush.  Rose let her hands drop to her sides and did not protest.
	ÒDo you like what you see?Ó she asked, laughing, as he held open her front.
	ÒIÕll kiss it for you,Ó the man said.  Rose smiled, looked at me.  I tried not to blush.  Gently the man placed RoseÕs panties back against her delta.  Then he placed a finger beneath her and felt between her legs.  ÒYour swimsuitÕs moist,Ó he said.  Rose looked at me again.
	ÒDid you wet your panties?Ó Polly asked Rose with wide eyes.
	ÒGo dance, dear,Ó Rose replied.  
	The man I thought would take Polly went instead for Rose.  They began swaying to the beat of the music as Polly and I joined the guy with the cutoff tee.  
	ÒWhatÕs your name?Ó he asked each of us, telling us he was Brad.  The girl introduced herself as Cheyanne.  Another male, seeing the surfeit of females around Brad, soon joined us.  We minded not.  He was Darwin, a blonde surfer, with trunks as full as BradÕs.  
	I noticed the floor we were dancing on was strangely modern-looking.  It seemed to have pegged holes in it every few inches.  They were covered with mesh, I saw, as I bent down to look.  Strange, but I had no explanation for them.  I had to pull my swimsuit up when I straightened my back.  The slightest bow in my frame, the littlest bending over, and it slipped further down my heinie, exposing my white cheeks.
	ÒYour daughter has a lovely ass,Ó Brad told Rose as we found ourselves dancing within earshot.  
	ÒSheÕs going to have it whipped later tonight,Ó Rose confided.  I blushed.  Rose indicated Polly and said she would be treated the same.  Brad seemed shocked.  His cock grew, straining his swimsuit.  He became noticably uncomfortable from his erection.
	ÒI hope the suds start soon,Ó he said.
	ÒSuds?Ó I asked. 
	ÒYouÕll see,Ó Cheyenne assured me.  ÒAny minute now.Ó
	Suddenly, even as she spoke, a spray of water erupted from the floor.  Squirting fountains began shooting up and wetting our bodies.  They didnÕt spurt high enough to hit our faces, but I found my crotch and my belly getting rained upon.  Even my breasts were not out of reach of the higher spurts.  Cheyenne laughed, jiggled her tits.  The water was not a thorough, unrelenting spray, like a fountain, but rather a series of distinct streams emanating from the floor.  There were just enough of them, though, that there was no escaping being wettened.  And for each fountain of water there was, right beside it, a fountain spraying some kind of liquid cream.  It smelled like Cool-Whip and I knew now why the cover charge was $200.00.  Somebody must have bought an awful lot of it to spray it on us so freely.
	ÒTake off your bottoms,Ó Cheyenne urged me.  She loosed her own as she spoke.  Feeling uninhibited in all the spurting cream, I ran my fingers over my drawstrings and tugged at them.  I felt my heinie become more exposed than ever, and, worse, my pussy too.  Cream shot up and hit my cunny as my panties fell away.  Not wanting to be alone, I reached over and grabbed teasingly at PollyÕs panties.  She tried to resist but, for some reason, fought with only half her strength and I had hers undone in no time.  
	Brad laughed and yanked down his Speedos.  His cock, so eager to break free, sprang up and was immediately annointed with Cool-Whip.  He let his balls swing over the spray and they got a baptism of their own.  I reached back and undid my top and let it flutter away.  I felt like an Indian, naked as Cheyenne, and I made sure PollyÕs top came off too.  We danced away from our things.  I knew I should recover them from the floor but the whole atmosphere was so heady I just didnÕt care.  I wiggled my tits and felt their freedom.  Brad watched with mesmerized eyes.
	ÒI love you, Brad,Ó I called to him.  Laughing, I asked, ÒWhatÕs your last name?Ó
	ÒPitt,Ó he replied.
	ÒLiar,Ó I giggled.
	ÒLiar yourself, whatÕs your last name?Ó he asked me above the din of the music.
	ÒLiar, liar, ass on fire!Ó I shouted, and I reached back and whacked his naked haunches.  He shouted, grabbed me, and I let him pull me close.  I felt my breasts crush themselves against his chest as he aimed for my mouth with his tongue and found it.  Beyond us Polly and Cheyenne were drawn close by Darwin and he stood feeling their bottoms as he kissed them.  
	ÒLetÕs fuck,Ó Brad begged me.
	ÒI donÕt know,Ó I replied.  I wished only to dance, kiss a little, perhaps.  But then again, my thoughts whirling, I could feel him snake-like against my belly, so hard, so very impressive.
	A womanÕs hand, its nails long and chisled, placed itself softly on my fanny.  I broke my mouth from BradÕs, turned.  It was Rose.  
	ÒCome,Ó she said.  She interrupted Darwin and Polly also and, with our new friends accompanying us, she led us up some steps to a private room, retreiving her purse first, in case we needed PollyÕs Ôrubber bands.Õ
	We entered into a small room with a crackling fireplace.  I let myself be drawn to it.  The water had been chilly and I felt grateful for the fire.  I extended my hands to it, standing before it, and let the heat bathe my tummy.  Then I turned around and offered it my ass.
	Rose found a pile of towels and passed them around.  We stood drying ourselves before the warmth of the fire.  I felt romantic.  I was glad the water had not wet my hair.  Polly found a large cowboy hat and, perhaps to regain just a touch of modesty, she plopped it on her head.  
	ÒOh, whatÕs that?Ó she asked, adjusting her hat.  She pointed to a leather stool in the corner.  It was shaped like a saddle and it had a pommel with reins.  Polly wandered over to it.
	ÒYou donÕt want to sit on that, darling,Ó Rose cautioned.  ÒItÕs an electric bucking bronco.  Someone must have decided to store it here.Ó
	But Polly was curious.  The padded stool with the pommel was too tall for her to mount standing on the floor.  She placed both her hands up on the seat, and then lifted a foot and stuck it in a stirrup that dangled down along the side of the stool.  The thing was a real-looking saddle, I had to admit, complete with everything but the horse itself.  But why would anyone mount it on a stool?
	Darwin eased himself over to Polly and offered to help her up.  She accepted, and he hoisted her bottom up for her so that she could settle herself in the saddle.  She looked just like a cowgirl and, clearly enjoying herself, she pulled the chin strap of her hat down below her chin so she wouldnÕt lose it.
	Polly picked up the reins that dangled down from the pommel in front of the stool.  Holding them aloft in her hands, she began to bounce her ass up and down on the smooth leather saddle.  It was padded, but stiffly soft, so that her bottom did not sink down into it but was nonetheless not discomfited as she bounced up and down.
	ÒGidyap, gidyap!  Go, pony, go!Ó Polly shouted happily.  She turned to Rose.  ÒI want to GO someplace!Ó she whined.  ÒOn my horsey.Ó  She was being utterly childish again, but, judging from the mesmerized look on Brad and DarwinÕs faces, they didnÕt mind in the least.
	Rose whispered to the boys and their eyes lit up.  With quick steps they approached PollyÕs Ôhorse.Õ  As Polly watched, curious and, I think, a little randy from the dancing, they buckled her legs below the knee into leather straps that hung from the sides of the stool.  I hadnÕt taken note of them earlier.  They sprouted from the sides of the stool, right where PollyÕs calves were, and it was the easiest of things for Brad and Darwin to Ôbuckle her upÕ, one might say, as she sat watching them.
	Rose glided over to the front of the stool and picked up a little control box.  Wires ran from it to the underside of the saddle.  A tube hung down beneath the underside of the saddle, and I wondered what was in it.
	ÒPolly, did you ever ride on a horsey at the grocery?Ó Rose asked.
	ÒÔCourse!Ó Polly replied, quite confident now.  She was the center of attention and loving every minute of it.  ÒIs this ride sort of like that?Ó
	ÒYes, sort of,Ó Rose grinned.  I began to suspect something fishy lay in wait in the tube beneath the saddle.  Rose looked at Cheyenne.  The girl smiled, perhaps knowing, perhaps simply happy.
	The stool began moving.
	ÒOh, goody!Ó Polly cried.  She bounced in time with it, first exaggerating its own movements, then soon finding herself bounced by it, and quite vigorously.  Rose slowed the stool to a stop.
	ÒKeep going!Ó Polly insisted.
	ÒOh, donÕt worry, Polly.Ó  Rose replied.  ÒI want you to sit very still for a minute, O.K.?Ó
	ÒO.K., but I donÕt want to have to wait long for my ride,Ó Polly reminded her.
	ÒYou wonÕt,Ó Rose replied.  ÒExpect a little visitor, though.  Right up your...Ó
	ÒOh!Ó Polly shouted.  Rose motioned for Cheyenne and I to hold down her thighs.  We rushed up to her, too amused not to.  I could guess now what was about to happen, and Cheyenne could too.  A fake penis was going to nose its way up her cunt!
	ÒYo, yo, yo, NO!Ó Polly squealed, looking uncertain at first, feeling something begin to poke at her from below.  She seemed to me like a child awaiting its poop, except in her case something was going up, not down.  
	ÒYAAAK!  Not in my bottom!Ó Polly suddenly screeched.  I felt my eyes bulge even as I watched her own do the same.  Up her bottom?  Was the thing really going to take her anal virginity?
	ÒI picked the slim one, Polly.  Behave!Ó Rose called from where she stood operating the control box.
	ÒNooo, nooo, nooo, nooOOOH!Ó Polly hooted, while Cheyenne and I began laughing so hard we could barely keep her down.  I felt my tits jiggling on my chest and knew the men were delighted to see me so happy.
	ÒItÕs going too far upppp,Ó Polly yelled as she lifted her chin up and wiggled her ass, trying to escape the insidious penis.
	ÒYouÕve only two inches, Polly, and itÕs quite slender.  Enjoy yourself.  ItÕs your first time,Ó Rose told her.  But PollyÕs cries grew ever louder, though they were not of pain, just great anxiety.  When Cheyenne and I felt she could no longer buck up and escape the intruder, we let go.  Instantly she yanked up her thighs and I peeked beneath her bottom.  A Slim-Jim sized cock was worming its way into her heinie and she could not get rid of it.  Polly clenched her cheeks, trying to stop it, but it was heavily greased and rose with implacable vigor.
	Seeing that Polly was quite ready for her ride now, Rose began the machine.  The saddle began bouncing her up and down, just like before, but now each pounding that her bottom suffered upon it rammed the rising tube deeper into her ass.  I heard Rose click off the switch for the penis finally, leaving Polly to bounce on its full length, utterly penetrated now, despite her endlessly compressing cheeks.  In fact each bounce of the stool caused her cheeks to briefly release themselves, making her look silly as her cheeks sprang open and closed, showing her asscrack to us.
	ÒGEEE-YAAAAAÓ Polly hollered as the mechanical bull sprang up and down with unrelenting force.  Her boobs juddered like cream puffs as she took her unwanted ÔrideÕ upon it.  ÒLet-me-offff!Ó Polly pleaded, but Rose was not about to allow that.  We watched, fascinated, as Polly found herself a penetrated cowgirl, getting fucked by the fake cock up her ass with every bounding leap of the stool.  I migrated to Brad and stroked his cock.  We shared glances.  I looked down at his tool and wished there was some way I could mount the stool and simultaneously have his cock inside me.  He smiled, cupped my bottom, eased his finger between my cheeks.  I drew them in a little but allowed him to find my hole at last.  He explored its rubbery rim with an inquiring digit.  Did he want to stick this big pecker of his up my heinie?  I shuddered.  I didnÕt really want that.  The Ôold-fashioned wayÕ would be fine with me.
	Cheyenne entertained DarwinÕs prick as well as DaveÕs.  He was the man with the cut-off t-shirt.  HeÕd since taken it off.  It lay discarded somewhere on the dance floor, I suspected.  Along with our panties and bras.  I was feeling deliciously free tonight.  I wanted Brad inside me, and told him so.
	ÒCheyenne, I want you on the horse next,Ó Rose told her.  
	Cheyenne looked up from her twin cocks and there was a reluctant look on her face.  She brushed back her hair.  The bull slowed its bucking and Polly subsided on it, quivering still from her journey.
	ÒOnly if you take me back to your castle with you,Ó Cheyenne told Rose.  
	Rose looked her over, considering.  It was, I think, the first time Rose had really taken note of the girl.  She was in fact very beautiful, with a snub nose and wide eyes and long brown tresses that got caught on her nipples whenever she turned her head.  Her bosoms sported stiff tips, excited and ready for sex.  She palmed her ass, almost sensing RoseÕs next sentence.
	ÒOnly if you agree to be a love slave there,Ó Rose replied.  
	ÒOh!Ó Cheyenne gasped.  It was as if sheÕd been pierced with her deepest, most haunting fantasy.  ÒWould you whip me?Ó  Her fingers pressed into her soft white bottom cheeks, gripping them, parting the cheeks, so that I could at last see her hole as she anxiously contemplated her choices.  Brad had made me bend over and take his tool in his mouth, so that I found myself with an unexpectedly candid view of her nether cheeks, and stared wonderingly at them, waiting to hear if sheÕd let Rose enslave her.
	ÒTurn around.  Let me see your bottom,Ó Rose told Cheyenne.  Bashfully she complied.  But she let go of her cheeks first, and when she offered Rose a view of her bottom it was with an ass huddling in on itself.
	ÒHmmm, nice and round,Ó Rose said, surveying CheyenneÕs derriere.  ÒYou have a gorgeous bottom, honey,Ó Rose admitted at last.  ÒIt would be unthinkable not to give it a good thrashing.  Probably at a party, letting everyone participate.  How lovely youÕd look receiving it, too!  Have you never been punished on your bottom before?Ó
	ÒNo...never,Ó Cheyenne said, and spun back around so that Rose could see her no more.
	ÒGet on the horse, dear,Ó Rose said simply.  She nodded to Darwin and Dave.  They led Cheyenne to the bronco, her feet tripping over themselves a little, her hand hovering by her throat as she realized sheÕd just let herself in for a whole new life.  I think she was a little high on Ecstasy or something, but it made no difference to Rose.  She hadnÕt drugged the girl.  If she awoke in the morning and protested in finding herself at the castle, all the better.  Recalcitrant girls were especially fun for Rose.  And, I suspected, for helpers like JoAnn and Sylvia too.  I wondered where they were now.  Probably in a room close by, getting theirs.  I hoped they didnÕt need any condoms.  We had RoseÕs purse.
	Brad was obviously ready.  I walked to RoseÕs purse and rummaged inside for a condom for him.  After all, I didnÕt know his last name.  I might not see him after tonight.  Best not to take any chances, though I had, obvioulsy, taken a few before.  But I was older now.  I knew better.  He was just some dude that Rose had briefly inspected.  For VD, I guessed now, as much as for anything else.  HeÕd been oozing pre-cum when we met, from the stain I remembered seeing on the front of his Speedos.  IÕd been too excited by the music, the lights, to really understand what Rose had been doing.  But now I knew.  I chose a pre-lubricated condom from her purse, one colored red, and returned to Brad.
	ÒYou donÕt mind, do you?Ó I asked, tearing open the packet.  My breasts jiggled on my chest.
	ÒGo ahead,Ó Brad agreed.  As Dave and Darwin helped Polly get loose from her perch I slid the condom on Brad.  He almost came as I handled him, he was so eager for me.
	ÒWait a minute, kids.  WeÕre going to do something together,Ó Rose told us.  I smiled.  Rose was always up to something.  To keep Brad tempted I ran my fingers along his sheathed cock once I had him all suited up.  He passed his hand between my legs and teased my spot to distraction.  
	Polly wobbled over to Rose.  She sank down to the womanÕs feet and placed the cheek of her face upon her toes.  She looked like a little baby, curling up at RoseÕs feet.  Her bottom pointed toward us and I saw it looked well poked.  There was a brown smear around her hole and the insidious thing had, apparently, jetted something up into her in the last moments of her ride.  Rose, obviously, had found a switch for sperming girls on the stool.  Cheyenne would be next.
	Dave and Darwin mounted her up.  I watched as her legs parted wide to accomodate the seat between them.  She settled into it, adjusted herself, reached back and felt her bottom.  In a moment the prick that had lodged itself in Polly would do her, and she knew it.  In its housing beneath the stool, I guessed, it lay waiting in disinfectant.  Then, poking up through the seat again, it would be greased as it rose through the tube, emerging at last cock-sure and ready to fuck again.
	Rose took off PollyÕs cowboy hat.  The girl did not protest.  She was exhausted from her ride.  Especially the terror of it, being fucked in the ass for the first time in her life.  Now she lay puppy-like at RoseÕs feet.  
	Rose passed the cowboy hat to cheyenne.  Bravely the girl took it, put it on, even slid the strap under her chin so it wouldnÕt fly off.
	ÒFleurry, Polly, letÕs each kneel and take a man up our bottom at the same time Cheyenne gets fucked on the stool,Ó Rose suggested.  There was a wicked gleam in her eye and I liked it.
	ÒAlright,Ó I agreed.  She passed me a fresh towel for comfort and I spread it out on the floor.  There was no furniture in the room.  Just the bronco, which IÕd thought useless at first, the fireplace, and plenty of towels.  And a wet bar, which none of us had yet bothered to use.
	I knelt and offered Brad my bottom.  Just like that.  As a female might do in the jungle.  Rose spread out a towel for herself and knelt with the control box in her hands.  Polly declared that she would not participate.  She remained fetal-like, showing us her bottom but insisting it not be touched.
	ÒSuit yourself,Ó Rose replied.  Dave had found Rose first so he got dibs on her rear.  Darwin settled for RoseÕs mouth, and seemed to prefer her accessibility to PollyÕs stubbornness.  Some men like a challenge, others are just looking for a wet hole, I guess.  It was not a bad choice.  Rose drew him into her mouth, commenting over his prick that he must not let himself interfere with her use of the control box for the bronco.  Dave, meanwhile, having gotten a condom and lubricant from her purse, prepared to mount her ass.
	I felt BradÕs cock bump up against my hole.  He was kneeling behind me now, as Dave lowered himself to the floor to do Rose.  Darwin was already enjoying RoseÕs succulent mouth.  She was an expert at ÔblowingÕ men and she used him with her lips even as her hands remained on the control box.
	ÒI expect sheÕs very good,Ó I called out to Darwin, feeling Brad at my rear.  ÒLet her control you and youÕll last a nice long time, IÕll bet.Ó
	ÒI hope so!  This is heaven!Ó Darwin answered me.  I liked him.  He was just a big blonde, dumb dude.  He had a grin on his face as wide as the Cheshire CatÕs and I hoped someday I could show as much skill as Rose did.  She blew him gently, licking his cock and then puffing on it, stopping a moment, then inhaling him deeply, right back against her throat.  Polly blubbered from her place on the floor, little snivelling sounds that I expected were invitations to Darwin to take her instead.  But Darwin was supremely happy with his manhood in RoseÕs mouth and Polly, poor soul, would lose this battle to her own stubbornness.  For once nobody would command her to obey, and sheÕd find she didnÕt like that, after all.
	Rose started the bronco.  At once Cheyenne began bouncing, lightly, while at the same time she felt the nozzled penis enquiring in her ass.  Unlike Polly, she reached back and opened her bottomcheeks to receive it more easily.  There was no use fighting against something you couldnÕt control.  I wondered if IÕd have that much courage if I was put on the horse.
	BradÕs cockhead dug into my bottom.  I took a deep breath and tried to relax.  I knew this would hurt some, but IÕd taken Andre just the night before and survived.  Now it was BradÕs turn.  I felt used, like a whore, but he didnÕt seem to mind, and he drove into me so hard I had to ball my hand into a fist and bite it.
	ÒGood, good, donÕt spare her.  She needs to learn,Ó Rose told Brad.  She held DarwinÕs cock aloft, twixt her fingers, as she spoke.  Like a cigar.  I wished she handÕt encouraged Brad for he took hold of my hips and rammed me back upon his tool, going still deeper.  I shouted.  It felt like some huge cork was being stoppered up my ass.  Briefly I wondered if IÕd somehow get stuck on him.  
	Rose yelped as Dave took her with more vigor than sheÕd expected.  Even as Brad reamed me, and the horse did Cheyenne, bouncing her more jubilantly, making her cry out with shock, Rose got hers too.  We were three females, submitting to love, and finding it more gruelling than ever weÕd hoped.  The men, mechanical or real, were lusty and hard and not to be taken lightly.  I wished Brad would shoot.  I tightened my cheeks on him but he overcame me, urging me, kissing me now, leaning close and cupping my breasts.  In the corner of my eye I saw Polly had begun to masturbate herself.  Rose would scold her later for that, I was sure, doing herself when a man had been available for her.
	I rode Brad and Rose rode upon Dave as Cheyenne found her anus fully invaded by the horse.  Amidst gasps and cries and screams of pleasure and just a touch of pain, we ran our course.  At last we lay touching and kissing upon the towels, spent, happy.  Rose eventually got up and served us drinks.  Cheyenne, let down from the horse, consoled herself in the arms of Polly, and we ended the night watching the two of them wriggle into a spontaneous 69.  Neither of them knew what it was called.  They simply found comfort in their shared experience, their shared anal torment upon the horse.  Their kisses evolved into licks and finally into the deepest embrace of all, with each of them putting their noses up the othersÕ slit.  On the ride back to the castle they both sat quite bashfully.  They put the entire length of the limo seat between themselves.  They did not want to be thought lesbians, and none of us, not even me, accused them of it.
	Eventually, as the limo rolled along, Polly fell asleep.  Her head drooped as she rode beside me and I watched as her eyelids fluttered closed.  Soon her head was on my shoulder.  I patted her hair.  It was best, I thought, given what Rose kept promising us.  I glanced up at her.  She gazed ahead, saying nothing.  Sylvia mixed drinks for us.  
	ÒHave a little something, Fleurry,Ó Rose said to me.  I knew why.  To lessen the agony of the whipping.  I accepted, quietly.  I sipped it.  ÒDrink it all.  YouÕll need it,Ó Rose told me.  We wore towels about ourselves.  Our bikinis were lost, strewn back at the cabana on the dancefloor someplace.  Being stepped on, perhaps, as the night wound down.  
	In a second seat, farther up, JoAnn had stretched out.  SheÕd been given over to a gang-bang by Sylvia at the club.  Six men had gone down on her, while Sylvia prepped them, each in turn, JoAnn tied over a trestle so she couldnÕt refuse.  When all had been spent, save the last, Sylvia took him for herself.  
	We arrived at the castle.  The moon was already set.  I looked up as we got out and thought I saw bats flutter upward, high in the castle towers.  IÕd not been up there.  I half expected to see myself, letting down my hair, begging to be freed.  
	The driver carried Polly to her room.  We parted company at the top of the stairs.  Sylvia, still chipper, took me to my own room.  We walked in silence.  She put me in the bathroom and I sat on the furred seat of the potty, fretting, while she ran a bath for me.  She helped me into it when it was ready and slipped into the warm waters with me and bathed me.  I felt limp.  She washed me like a little girl might wash a doll.  She was very attentive, shampooing my hair, scrubbing me right down to my toes, doing my back and my bottom for me.  Afterward, when IÕd been rinsed and towled dry, she had me sit on the potty again.  She placed a soft washcloth on it first, because when I first sat on it I still had sperm dripping from my hiney-hole from being fucked by Brad.  WeÕd kissed goodbye, promised to meet there again, but I doubted we ever would.  He was just my lover for the night, though IÕd liked him very much.  I belonged to Louis.  And I was about to suffer for his love as I never had before.
	As I sat on the pottyÕs seat Sylvia did my makeup.  She worked diligently, until everything was quite impeccable.  YouÕd have thought IÕd been going to a grand ball, not simply to bed.  Then she stood me up, and walked me to the bed.  I got in, slowly, letting her pull down the covers first.  When IÕd laid down she pulled my hands up and over my head and bound them to the back of my collar.  I was imprisoned now.  I still had my feet, but I knew sheÕd lock the door when she left.  She kissed me goodnight.  I could not resist her lips, with my hands bound behind me.  She drew up the covers over me.  Then she pulled back the curtain to let in the night air and the stars.
	ÒDonÕt jump out the window,Ó she teased.
	ÒI want to,Ó I confessed.  She kissed me again.  
	ÒDonÕt worry,Ó she said.  ÒIn the morning it will all be over.  Try to get some sleep.  WaitingÕs no fun.Ó
	I promised myself IÕd stay wide awake.  Slowly, though, exhaustion crept up on me.  It might have taken only 15 minutes, perhaps a half hour.  When I next regained consciousness it was with a jolt, as delicate fingers drew my covers down.
	ÒAre you Branson?Ó I asked sleepily.  I found myself staring into the deep blue eyes of a young, vivacious blonde.
	ÒIÕm his neice,Ó she told me.  To my surprise I saw she was dressed in a playsuit.  ÒBransonÕs doing Polly,Ó she told me simply.  ÒBut IÕll be tougher, I can assure you.  I know how much a woman can really take.Ó  I gazed at her with astonished eyes.  She bent over me, confident, self-possessed.  Her hair was perfect, long and blonde with gentle flowing curls in it.  Her teeth were white.  Her playsuit, white with little red velvet triangles, fit her like a glove.  There was not much to it.  A simple band of fabric, quite thin, looped round behind her neck.  Then, in front, the playsuit looked a bit like a one-piece swimsuit, except that nothing covered her breasts except small lace-edged cups.  They were held up by the strip of fabric round her neck.  Otherwise, they would have fallen right down.  Nothing covered her shoulders, her back, or even her front, except a narrow strip of sheer, rose-patterned nylon that ran from her nothing bra cups down to her pubic mound, where it slipped back between her legs to meet a single thread-like strip of lace that crossed entirely around her waist.  One other thread-like strip crossed round behind her, joining the base of the bra cups just like a swimsuit top did.  You could almost say that she wore a bikini, except it was made of lace and connected in front by the narrow strip of sheer nylon that ran down from her breasts, over her tummy, to meet her delta.  
	Where her delta was a red satin triangle beckoned.  ItÕs color was in sharp contrast to the whiteness of the rose-patterned nylon that made up the playsuit.  I saw that a tiny white bow held up the red triangle.  Untie it, and you had immediate access to her pubis.  The same held true for her bra cups.  White nylon circled her breasts, decorating them, but in the middle a slender triangle was tied up over each of her bosoms.  Untie each of them, and her boobs would fall out and hang free.  Of course, she was young, no more than 19, so her breasts jutted against the red satin triangles like juggernauts waiting to be launched into the sea.  Each movement of her nubile form sent those twin rocket tits joggling softly over me, the red satin triangles straining to contain them.
	ÒYou have a cute playsuit,Ó was all I could say, looking up at her.  She had on long crystal earrings that dangled freely from her ears and made little tinkling sounds, like chimes.  Elbow length gloves, not quite reaching all the way to her elbows, accented the red in her playsuit.  While they were red, her thigh-high stockings were white.  She was a true playmate, laced up with all the trimmings.  But in her hand she held a birch rod.  It had a little red and white lace bow tied at the handle end, while a spray of fresh birches stemmed out from the handle and hung loosely over my eyes.
	ÒWhen I get hot from whipping you I can untie the triangles, see?Ó BransonÕs neice teased me.  She tugged slightly at the white bow that held up the red satin triangle over her nearest breast.  ÒAnd later, if I get really hot, I can of course untie myself down here too,Ó she added, pointing down toward her delta with her finger.  Then she carefully laid her birch rod aside and lifted me up from the bed.  I helped a little, scrambling up with my feet, trying to find purchase on the sheets.  It was hard, with my hands bound so ruthlessly over my head and behind my neck.  She got me completely standing up, right on the bed, as if I were a 6-year-old playing games.  She made sure I planted my feet solidly on the sheets.  I wore no shoes.  With the care of an X-Ray technician she positioned me, leaning me forward a little.  Then she snapped a bar out from the wall and fixed it to the front of my dog collar.  I was caught now, a fish hooked on a stiff pole.  She pried open my mouth and snapped a small piece of wood up from the surface of the horizontal pole.  This little piece, angled upward, she fitted into my mouth.  It had a red ball on the end of itself.  When I was gagged on the rubber ball she strung a strap round the back of my head, running it under my hair as best she could.  The strap, attached to the base of the rubber ball, kept me attached to it.
	ÒCan you breathe O.K.?Ó BransonÕs neice asked me.  I tried to nod, could not, but she got the message.  ÒIÕm Bambi,Ó she said to me.  ÒJust in case youÕre wondering.  But people have nicknamed me Thumper, as youÕll soon see why.Ó
	I felt like I was at the dentistÕs.  A big red ball was stuffed into my mouth and I was bent forward as if to have my bottom x-rayed.  Bambi examined my bottom next, tracing her gloved fingers over it, prying apart the cheeks, feeling within my hole a little with her finger.  She cupped my breasts, hefted them in each hand, as if I were livestock having my essential parts weighed.  At last she stroked my thighs, cooing at how lovely they were, and when her hands reached my juncture she felt a little for my spot and touched me there, reassuringly, like a dentist might before he begins drilling.
	I gazed out at the night sky.  Even the stars seemed to be setting now, and I hoped morning would arrive before she could get started.
	Within the privacy of the canopy she laid out her implements of flagellation like an artist might lay out his brushes.  She gave me a mirror to watch, and I sometimes did, furtively, glancing off to the side to see what her reflection was doing.  I saw her kneel upon the bed, quite happy and self-possessed.  Among her implements she placed before herself a cane, several paddles, and three whips.  I glanced away, too scared to look.  My bottom cheeks bunched together.  I felt my white ass flesh jiggling with nervous fear.  
	Bambi brushed back her hair.  She selected the birch rod first, with awful nubs.  She was kneeling, and seemed excited.  She untied both her bra triangles as she knelt behind me, staring at my bottom.  I saw her tits spring out and they quivered with lovely grace.  Oh, how could one girl do this to another?
	Taking a perfume spray bottle, Bambi misted a scent of sweet perfume onto my bare fanny.  Then she put down the bottle and I thought I saw her rub herself a little where her red satin triangle was pulled up over her cunny.  Was she aroused by the thought of whipping me?  I tried to speak, to ask to be let go, but my words came out totally garbled.  Bambi ignored me.  She had a heavy pot of brine next to my bed and she leaned back and dipped her birch branches into it.  Then she drew them out, dripping, and I watched as she brought them hovering over the bed.  Droplets fell on my clean sheets, staining them with salt.
	ÒNow, letÕs begin,Ó Bambi said.  She drew her hand back and swept the birch rod up under my outthrust bottom.
	ÒYeeoch!Ó I responded at once, arching up on my toes.  My bottom stuck out all the more as I leapt from the blow.
	ÒOne down, 200 to go,Ó Bambi giggled to herself.  I thought she passed a fleet hand over her cunny again.  With practised grace she re-dipped the birch rod.  She trailed it back across the bed, leaving droplets again.  IÕd look like IÕd wet the bed if she kept this up.  But then, that would be the least of my troubles, wouldnÕt it?  ÒYouÕll have such lovely marks to show off to everyone tomorrow,Ó Bambi told me.  Then, with me feeling ever-more like a bottom, nothing else, she whacked me right on my heinie again.  
	ÒOoochch!Ó I yelped, my gag silencing me.  Only the most primitive sound escaped my lips, not the distinct sound IÕd intended.  I was cultured no more.  I was just meat now, an outjutting ass waiting to be punished.
	ÒAh, delicious!Ó Bambi told me.  ÒI love how your bottom retracts when youÕre waiting for it.  It wonÕt save you, of course.  But itÕs pretty.Ó  She dipped the birch again and gave me another blow, harder now, making me really strain up on my toes and almost ram the gag down my throat.
	ÒAHCHCHCH!Ó I said, nearly choking, or so I imagined, on the big red ball that kept my lips pried apart.  I squeezed my hind cheeks to try to throw off some of the stinging.  Bambi reached up and palmed my cheeks with her gloved hands.  Her touch was bitter, reminding me of the birchÕs imprint.  Such soft gloves, yet such a stinging touch.  She fondled me for a moment between my legs.  I did not want to be pleasured there, but I dared not close my legs.  I held them wide in a bold vee as sheÕd instructed me.  She told me I was free to lift my legs as I needed to, but that if I kicked back at her IÕd never forget it.
	Shadows appeared outside our shrouded workplace.  I felt as if I were giving birth, with my parents outside, waiting, wondering, asking passing nurses for news.  I hand drew back the pink canopy of my bed.  It was Rose.  She was dressed in a formal gown, sipping wine.  She smiled at me over the lip of her glass.  Somehow within myself I knew it must be French Chablis.  That wine was very good with oyster stuffing, I learnt once, as a little girl, studying a menu in a restaurant when IÕd tired of coloring in the restaurantÕs logo in the childrenÕs activity book.  
	RoseÕs gown was held up by two spaghetti-thin straps over her frail, fragile shoulders.  Her skin was white.  The dress molded her closely but the portion covering her breasts consisted of but two uplifted circles of fabric.  A man tugging at her dress might to get her attention might pull to hard and render her topless.
	A hand settled on her shoulder.  Louis!  He came around from somewhere beyond and behind her, took up position beside her.  He gazed at me with stern eyes.  I wanted to beg forgiveness from him for whatever IÕd done to deserve this but, I knew, IÕd done nothing but be myself, his love, beautiful and loving him.  This is what he did to girls he loved.
	SKRAAAACK!  The birch swept up again, catching the lowest portion of my jutting, tender bottom cheeks.
	ÒAaaaaaaah,Ó I cried into my red ball gag, feeling the heat of the twitchy rods as they marked me with their nubbed stiffness.  I let my bottom gyrate freely.  I felt no shame despite showing off my ass, its crack.
	ÒWe had to tie PollyÕs legs,Ó Rose told me.  ÒBut you are older.  I want you to remain self-possessed, in control.Ó  She reached out and touched Bambi.  ÒLet her settle down a little before giving each new stroke,Ó Rose told her.  ÒThere is no hurry.  I want her to savor each one, to dread it, to wait for it and then to scream aloud when she finally feels it.  Make her whipping sensuous.  Yes, it must be difficult for her, but she is not really in prison, and we are not really her jailers.Ó
	ÒOh, alright,Ó Bambi said.  I think she was growing hot where it mattered most for, in my frenzied kicking and stamping on the bed, not kicking back but outward, like a disabled person trying to walk, I saw Bambi untie the triangle of satin over her cunt.  She didnÕt untie the top triangle, as I thought she would, though.  She reached within the vee of her legs and undid two impossibly tiny ties that held the base of her triangle of satin against the lips of her cunt.  Falling outward, being caught finally by the topmost triangle, tied off above her mons, she looked like an Indian.  She had on her flapping Indian triangle, one might say, hovering over her bush, flipping outward whenever she moved.  I watched as LouisÕ eyes left me to find themselves transfixed by her coyly half revealed pussy.  Bambi, sensing she was on display as much as me, randily parted my bottomcheeks and flicked her tongue within.
	She skipped my hole, but licked all up and down the inside of my crack.  Her hands held my injured fanny, spreading it, venting it, her fingers pressing against my newly awarded marks from the birch.  I did not like being held thus, my hams lifted and held open by another girl.  Worst of all, her fingers made my ass hurt more.  Any touch upon my wounded cheeks seemed like an agony.  And the night had just begun!
	I closed my eyes.  I tried to think of Polly.  Anything to keep me from thinking of my own bottom.  Was she being whipped now?  It would be like whipping a little angel, I thought.  A wingless angel, to be sure, but surely her cherubic bottomcheeks would be so babylike that Branson would go easy on her.  Had she tried to escape him?  Had she stuck out her tongue and lept from her bed and made a game of it?  Had Branson, wheezing and old, been forced to chase her about the locked bedroom until he finally caught her and tied her wiggling body to the head of her bed?
	ÒNYAH!  NYAH!  NYAH!  NYAH!Ó I could hear her teasing in my mind, as she realized she might just have the better of Branson and never be caught.  Had Rose entered then, and helped?  Had Andre been called to attend to her?
	ÒOoooooOOOH!Ó I heard suddenly in the night air.  At first I thought it was an owl.  Then I realized it was Polly.  ÒOh, please!Ó I heard, then, ÒYahoooOOOOH!Ó and I thought I heard the crack of a leather whip, coming hard against her skin.  She cried out again, and then again.  Her screams merged with the crashing of the surf on the rocky beach far below.  I felt a seabreeze enter through the window and cool my face.  My hair fluttered briefly.  The canopy of my bed ruffled itself, inspired by the wind.
	A cane was produced.  Louis had been holding it, just behind himself, not letting me see it until now.  Gleefully Bambi accepted it.  The length of it must have been six feet.  It was wickedly slender.  Rose, fearful of being hit by it, drew Louis back, holding his hand, squeezing it tight.
	ÒNot- not too hard,Ó Rose told Bambi, who I swear looked like a child with a new Christmas toy.
	ÒDonÕt spare her,Ó Louis said.  I trembled at the sound of his words.  His voice was rich, deep.  He puffed on his pipe.  Rose gasped a little as he exhaled and a cloud of tobacco smoke enveloped the both of them.  
	Bambi got off to one side to better position herself for applying the whip to my heinie.  In my bare feet I stood waiting, my bottom red and sore but still deliciously white amidst the score of lines emblazoned across it.  I begged them to stop but no one could understand me.  
	ÒMmmm, such a tempting target,Ó Bambi said, lustfully gazing at my shaking, frightened fanny.  Oh, how could she?  I was a girl, just like her.  Had she no pity for me?  
	THWACK!  In came the cane, blazing across my backside.  I jumped up, all but the tips of my toes leaving the bed.  My teeth ground against the ball that gorged within my mouth.  I felt my neck yank on the end of the pole that held me submissive.  Christ had not suffered this much upon the cross.  I felt my bottomcheeks yammer together, shuddering within themselves as the whip struck, then bound outward, showing my crack.  One moment my furrow was just a tight line compressed between my cheeks.  The next it was wide apart, on display, letting them see my hole.
	Louis placed his fingers upon the straps of RoseÕs dress.  She watched from the corners of her eyes as he lifted her straps until, quite suddenly but not unexpectedly, they broke.  Her dress fell to her waist.  Her bosoms, bounteous in their maturity, came tumbling out to show their fleshiness and their quivering tips.  Rose looked down at herself a moment, feeling LouisÕ eyes as he looked over her shoulder and admired her cleavage.  Then she slipped onto my bed in her broken gown and got right behind me.  
	ÒHang in there, youÕre doing great!Ó Rose told me.  She reached beneath me and diddled my cunny.  I gasped into my mouth-filling gag, wanting more, yet feeling so utterly humiliated.  New pairs of eyes appeared.  Men and women I did not know.  How many people were in my bedroom?  How many watched?  They gazed at me disspassionately, as one might watch a showgirl, not knowing her name, not really caring.  They drank wine and chatted amongst themselves.  My only consolation was that, watching me, these nameless men would no doubt be inspired to do the same to their loves, who watched beside them.  The women drank their wine in little gulps as they felt their lovesÕ hands pass down possessively over their bottoms.  They cared not for me, but they did care for themselves and their own tushies.
	Rose picked up a riding crop.  It was well worn.  It must have been in the estate for years.  I suspected it had begun its career on the flanks of horses, but somebody had brought it inside one day, and it had not been returned to the stable.  Rose touched my heinie lightly with her fingertips as if to mark where she would hit me.  Then, drawing in her breath, her tits rising as her lungs filled, she drew back her hand.
	WHAP!  The leather crop came against my skin with a forcefulness I had not expected.  I felt my own lungs exhale, shaking my bare tits like fruit on a tree in a storm, as the crop damaged my heinie and left a weal.  My ass shook.  Pain gripped it.  A line radiated inward until my cheeks seemed to bulge with pain.  My first weal.  I would bathe it later, passing my hand back over it, touching it, wondering at its fiery heat.  But now my ass was outthrust, a charming treat for all to see, whitefleshed but with bitter marks upon it.
	ÒOh, does it hurt?Ó a young girl watching me asked aloud.  She knew nothing, I guessed, seeing such torture for the first time tonight.  Her bottom was most in danger then, most like to suffer as mine.  Other women exchanged glances, said nothing, drank their wine freely.
	ÒYes, darling, itÕs so very harsh, isnÕt it?Ó Rose asked me.  She selected a paddle next.  Lifting it, she whacked it upon my behind, a dull thudding splat that came down over my ass so that the weal IÕd just received was at the center of its impact.
	ÒOOOOOH!Ó I hollared.  I was crying now.  There was no escaping it.  They were being so horrid to me, so very horrid.  My tears flowed wetly down my cheeks.  The seabreeze from the window cooled my face but did nothing for my bottom.  Why, why, why must they treat me this way?  Why did Louis like this?  And then, as I felt a pony lash striking me, as if training me like some lioness at the circus, I felt my bosoms shake again, slinging my coral tips about, and I felt my ass bound outward, and I knew.  I was a flesh goddess, enticing them, charming them with my wrigglings.  I had been reduced to tears and screams.  I was no longer the sullen girl, the smarty goodlooking female cherry bomb, or the impish teasing trickster, like Polly, sassing the men and making them want me.  I was theirs.  They had me completely within their power.  Louis owned me now.  He might sperm me here and leave me here, stuck to this post, until I gave birth to his child nine months later.  I had lost all control.  But Rose was determined to take me yet one step further.
	I felt a teacup passed beneath my cunt.  Rose stroked my thighs.  I felt her breath hot upon my raw bottom.
	ÒPee,Ó Rose told me.  ÒPee like the young mare you are, right here, right in front of all these people.  DonÕt hold back, darling.  Tonight is all about letting go.Ó  
	I resisted.  As I heard PollyÕs screams from somewhere in the castle, I held myself in.  My pee at least I would keep to myself, even if my bottom were presented for all to see, with my tears rolling down my cheeks.
	ÒAlright,Ó Rose said, seeing I would not obey.  She withdrew the cup and took up a martinet.  ItÕs stiff, water soaked cords would show me no mercy.  It had lain waiting, hidden, within the pot of brine.  It was not very large or long.  It did not need to be.
	ÒOh, let me do it!Ó Bambi begged.  As if in answer Louis, who had escaped my eyes and circled round the bed, grabbed her from behind and pushed her face down into the sheets.  There was nothing to undo or untie.  She wore her playsuit, but her triangles were undone.  The rest was just lace trimming.  He unzipped himself.  Seeing she was undone, Bambi balled her fist and pushed it between her teeth.  Louis presented his cock to her cunt lips and nudged them apart with his blue-stemming cockhead.  Suddenly he was in her, and Bambi gasped at the immediacy of his entry.  She seemed to have trouble taking him for a moment, he was so swift, so hard.  A cry escaped her throat.  
	When he was fully lodged, Louis began reaming Bambi with slow, deliberate strokes.  Rose, for her part, took to whacking my bottom with the martinet.  I felt the salt ooze from the stick with each cracking blow of it upon my heinie.  I was in agony.  I danced upon the bed, kicked back at her, was rewarded with a yet more deliberate blow.  She went easy, striking me playfully, but the martinet is an awful instrument and it does not take much from its cords to make a girlÕs bottom surrender itself.
	Brazenly my cheeks oscillated within a tight circle, moving constantly now, offering themselves, showing my fleshy hemispheres as if they were baubles at some crude market fair.  I flexed them and shook them.  I squeezed them and pushed them out toward Rose, hoping perhaps to bang her in the face with my bottom.  For her part she kept applying the martinet, each stroke carefully aimed, laid on with precision, her bosoms lifting and falling and jostling with her every wrist-swinging sweep of the stick.
	In a sudden shamelessness, not even waiting for the teacup, I peed upon the sheets of my bed.
	ÒOh, look!Ó A female cried, pointing at me.  They all watched with fascination in their eyes.  
	ÒYes,Ó Rose hissed, and she gave me another ass-biting stroke of the martinet, even as I offered my water to her.  A big stain grew beneath me and I thought of my mother.  She seemed so loving and caring now.  She had wanted to protect me, yet here I was, showing off my ass like some long lost treasure and peeing out my golden stream.
	Bambi moaned by my knees as Louis hammered her with his cock.  As I peed, he spurted his sperm into her.  We both went together, as it were, me on the pristine bed and he within the youthfully clutching lips of her cunt.  There was a round of applause.  Indiscreetly Rose lifted her skirt and put her hand beneath herself and masturbated her cunt.  With her free hand she gave me another blow from the martinet, then another, trying to restrain herself but feeling ever more lusty by the moment.  She screamed out as she came quickly to orgasm, jamming her fingers within herself.  She swung her fist in again toward me, holding the martinet, but lost her grip on it suddenly, hitting me only with her bare hand.  Weeping with pleasure she collapsed against my fanny.  Her salty tears flowed over my damaged flesh, doing me no good at all, but she must have thought she was helping me for she cried freely against my heinie, rubbing her wet cheeks against me, and finally she kissed me with her lips.
	Louis found he had more sperm to offer.  Withdrawing his newly spurted prick from Bambi, he got up on the bed and poked himself into Rose.  She ground her face into my ass as he pushed his rod up inside her.  They went at it, she licking my bottom while he reamed her well, giving her long and deeply penetrating strokes as if heÕd lost nothing in Bambi.  
	The guests in my room helped Bambi up from the bed.  Two women embraced her and kissed her.  As Rose laved my bottom with her tongue, tracing my welt, kissing my cheeks, Louis behind her, the crowd undressed and took to the floor for fucking.
	All around me sounds of passion and love began to arise, as in the distance I saw the first fleeting glimpses of sunlight.  PollyÕs screams had faded.  Amisdst the moans and cries of my guests the birds outside began to chirp.  They saw the sun and awakened to it, even as we ourselves were working our way toward sleep.
	It consoled me to know that the rug burns on my guests would be intense.  Their bottoms would hurt like mine did, though not as much, but some, and that was enough.  I let my tears flow freely down my cheeks and I tongued my gag.  Its balled firmness remained wedged between my teeth, filling my mouth, making me feel like a pony harnessed for a morning ride.  At last the sun shone brightly through the window and, like vampires retreating from it, to await the new moon, we were done.  
	Rose gently detached me from the pillar and my gag.  She undid my wrists.  Drawing my arms out, she flexed them for me.  I was too weak, too overwhelmed.  I was limp in her arms.  I smelled sperm and saw sheÕd been well-fucked by Louis.  His essence ran down the insides of her thighs.  
	I was laid down in my bed.  The wet spot loomed beneath me but I did not care.  The sheets were crisp and difficult against my bottom, despite their handwoven softness.  The wet spot touched my back only, from my shoulders down to the lowest part of my waist.  My bottom had a dry perch, but I could not stand it, and I rolled over onto my tummy to escape the stinging of my soft bed.  I let my bottom expose itself to the cool morning air.  I raised it up, pulling my knees toward me a little.  I felt the comforting softness of my pillow beneath my face and wished so much that I could rest my bottom on the consoling silkiness of my bed, but it was not possible.
	ÒOh, she wants more!Ó the young girl, rising and dressing, commented.  She simply did not understand.  The guests bustled about now, reclothing themselves.  All was quick kisses and brief words of goodbye as the sun flooded the room.  Passionate lovers who had kissed deeply into each otherÕs throats passed away from each other with only the slightest acknowledgement.  They were like passersbye on the street now, each going their own separate way.  Women who had joined together and brought each other to frenzied bliss parted company, hardly speaking, not caring.  Men who had swapped wives let go of their new loves like children tossing away ice cream cones after licking out all the cream.  
	Suited up, dressed again, their breasts and cunnies and loins tucked away, the guests departed.  I heard them start their cars a few minutes later down in the parking lot that lay alongside the castle.  All was done, all was gone.  Rose drew the curtains to keep the sun off my bottom.  Taking LouisÕ hand, they left the room and locked the door behind them.  
	I sobbed into my pillow and felt the cool morning breeze filter through my curtains and play across my heinie.  I had received.  I had been good.  Louis would love me forever, I told myself, and I fell quickly asleep.
	When I woke up I was startled to feel such hot pain in my bottom.  Then I remembered.  I looked up.  The post was still there.  Rose had not bothered to retract it.  I groaned as I tried to get up.  My bottom was flaring, a deep-seated ball of glowing heat.  Yet somehow, within its tenderness, I felt a sexiness.  I was aware of myself as never before.  I was new somehow.  I kneed my way to the edge of my bed and got down from it.  I felt the soft fur of the rug as it impressed itself between my toes.  I walked to a mirror and turned around.
	ÒAh!Ó I cried as I looked at myself.  My lightly tanned flesh, with my white boobs hanging like young fruit from my ribs, was perfect.  Except in one place.  And that was my bottom.  There, my untanned flesh, so dearly protected from the sun to make me look sexy without my clothes on, was bright red.  It was as if someone had drawn an intricate road map across my hemispheres.  Not a street had been left out.  All over my white ass I saw many little lines, each giving my delicate bottom an overall appearance of being like a well-stitched tomato, more red than white now, but with a little white showing through here and there to remind me of what I once was.
	God, I had gotten it good, much worse than at abandon gardens.  Had Polly suffered the same?  Would we be the twins of tortured bottoms?  Shivering, I let go of my hind cheeks and wrapped my arms around myself.  I felt my bosoms bulbing within my arms, protesting, wanting to hang free.  I took myself to the bathroom.  I walked like a wounded soldier, walking wounded, tip-toeing across the rug, so afraid for my heinie, yet somehow happy within myself.  I had obeyed Louis.  I would claim him now as my own.  
	I drew back the shower curtain and stepped into the tub.  I did not know whether to stand or sit.  Finally I turned on the water and just stood under it.  I felt like an abandoned kitten, my blonde hair streaming down under the shower, sticking to me in its wetness.  For a long time I just stood and felt the cool lukewarm water of the shower run down over my bottom.  I was alone.  I did not want to be alone.  I wanted to be with others.  I could not bear this loneliness.  Where were JoAnn and Sylvia?  I deserved their attention now.  Perhaps I had awakened sooner than they thought I would.  What time was it?  I did not know.
	Finally I stepped from the shower and dried myself.  Where was everybody?  Why were they not here to celebrate my return to the living?  Where was Louis?  He should kiss me and bathe me in the morning, not leave me to wash myself like some cheap whore done with her night of tricks.  I walked out into my bedroom, feeling my bottom joggle boldly behind me, all red and tortured and making me walk with exaggerated movements of my ass.  I fished out a bikini from the dresser.  I tied on the top, checking it in a mirror.  I dared not wear the panties.  But I tossed them over my shoulder just in case.  Who knows?  Somebody downstairs might have a whip and decide mine was the perfect ass to apply it to.
	I came down the front staircase with my hair all brushed and glowing with luminous blondeness, my makeup perfect, my lipstick red and inviting.  I wore my bikini top.  My panties were slung over my shoulder.  My bush, necessarily, was bared to whomever might greet me.
	And there, within the parlor, just looking up now to see me, was Rose.  She had older women with her.  They were dressed primly, as if at some neighborhood meeting, or some vanguard discussion group for school reform.  Feeling a little like one of their daughters, though, thank God, I did not see my mother there or any of her friends, I sauntered as unselfconsciously as I could down the rest of the stairs and, hoping to reach the pool, through the parlor, for that was the shortest way.
	I was gazed at by all the ladies.  They were twice my age.  Had they been like me once?  I did not try to hide my bush.  I let my bush and my cunny show as freely as if I were onstage at Las Vegas.  I walked with my back erect, my young breasts lifted high.  Only my bottom remained undisciplined, waggling excessively, due to my whipping.  As I passed through them, trying to ignore them, I felt their eyes paste themselves upon my bottom as its clenching cheeks came into view.  They gasped at my marks.  I put my hands instinctively behind myself to cover up my cheeks but I winced when my palms touched them.  I had to draw my hands away and let them see me there, with all my burny marks.  
	I made it past them and into the next room, then through the next, and out a side door to the pool.  I saw Polly splashing in it.  She looked like a little dolphin.  As I drew close she greeted me happily and then dove beneath the waters, sticking her bottom up as her head went down.  
	Oh!  They had done her too, just like me, but the waters were cooling her ass for her and letting her absorb the pain and accept it.  Quickly, tossing my panties aside, I stepped to the edge of the pool and waded into it.  Descending a flight of tiled steps I let the water rise up and take me.  Ah, it was chilly, but so comforting against my ass!  I turned my head and saw Louis and Andre lounging nearby, in bathrobes.  It was still morning, eleven oÕclock perhaps.  Andre was eating a brunch served to him by Maria and Louis was dressed in a silk bathrobe, smoking a pipe.  He looked up from a newspaper in his lap, gazed at me, then returned to the sports page.  I did not mind.  I loved him.  I would keep him forever, just as he kept me.  I paddled out into the water and joined Polly.  She took possession of a beach ball floating aimlessly on the water.  We stood in the shallow end and, letting our breasts hang free to entertain the men, our tops discarded and floating away from us on the surface of the pool, we passed the big beach ball back and forth to each other, volley-ball style, batting it back and forth as our titties joggled in their fullness and I felt the tips of mine grow hard.  
	Later, as the sun reached its zenith, Andre and Louis cast off their robes.  They entered the pool and took Polly and I from behind.  Despite the roughness of their prickly hairy skin against my bottom, I felt soothed somehow.  Polly and I kissed and tongued each otherÕs mouths as the men did us in the shallow end, bending us forward like puppies being given enemas, making us feel them within ourselves.  When they spurted, Polly and I cried out together, breathing into each otherÕs mouths, clutching at each otherÕs tits.  I felt her nipples pricking my palms and I squished her breasts in my hands, feeling their youthful resilience, and she handled mine just as freely.  
	When weÕd been spermed Polly and I got out of the pool.  The men laid out soft towels for us on reclining chaise lounges.  We sat down happily, wincing and crying at first, but finally accomodating ourselves to our new state, sinking our bottoms into the towels and welcoming the attention of the men.  Not satisfied with having done us in the pool, they each placed their cocks in our mouths.  Polly and I sucked on them as Maria laid out brunch for us.  We were spermed again.  After they were done Polly and I wiped our mouths with napkins and then, feeling silly and decadent, we ate our brunch lying back in our chairs, feeding our eggs and sausages into our sperm-soaked mouths.  Our titties wobbled freely, uncovered in the sun.  We would be tanned there, but I didnÕt care.  Let the sun brown my breasts a little.  I would surprise my mother with an all-over tan.
	Polly and I ate lustily.  We were hungry from our nightÕs play.  The men watched us, mesmerized.  We were just schoolgirls, yet here we were, soaking up the sun and loving life and letting them do as they pleased with us.  Out of the corner of my eye I saw their cocks grow anew.  They were excited by us, and we by them.
	As soon as Polly and I were done we got up from our chairs.  The men stood, expectantly, their cocks stemming at us with renewed vigor.
	ÒWhat now?Ó I asked Louis as I drew close to him.  My fingers touched his cock.  I let them play upon it.  I touched his pee slit.  We did not kiss, or embrace.  Not yet.  He ran his fingers over my breasts and my belly.
	ÒYou are truly beautiful,Ó he said to me.
	ÒWhy, thank you, Louis,Ó I replied.
	Polly and Andre negotiated with similar words, touching, exploring, finding each other as fresh and new as when weÕd first met.  But my bottom, and PollyÕs, promised that weÕd be submissive.
	And at last I could say the name of RoseÕs castle to myself.  It was Cunt Castle.  ÒCunt Castle,Ó I said aloud to Louis, looking up at him sweetly.
	ÒYes,Ó he replied.  He touched my cunny and rubbed me gently, sticking himself in a little bit.  Feeling his fingers in me I fondled his cock.  That was what belonged in me, but we were just playing now, allowing ourselves these few special moments before retreating to a bed in the castle.  We would spend the afternoon jousting, I knew.  Him with his cock and me with my bottom and slit.
	Andre and Polly drew close.  I looked at her.  I tugged LouisÕ fingers out of my slit and went to her.  I put my arm around her waist.  I was slightly taller.  I gazed into her uplifted eyes.  
	Maria passed in front of us.  She had an umbrella over her head to protect her wrinkled features from the sun.  Lightly I reached out and plucked it from her fingers.  I lifted it over my head, then passed it over PollyÕs so that it would shelter her the most, me a little less.
	Maria stood, looking at me.  She had been tasked with walking RoseÕs dalmation and she did not like having her umbrella stolen.  She had so many chores.  Our brunch waited to be cleared away, yet sheÕd been given yet another job.  The dalmation strained at its leash, eager for its walk.  I think there was a female dog down by the workerÕs huts, in heat, hoping her savior might come to visit her.  Was Maria to mate the dogs?  I did not know.  
	ÒCome, Polly,Ó I said to my girlfriend.  I brushed past Maria.  Let her work for us, just as Polly and I worked for Louis and Andre.  Let her always be in attendance on us.  
	ÒWalk the dog, Maria,Ó I said to her, commanding her, and I relished my new attitude of command.  With my arm around PollyÕs waist, holding her close, I walked her toward the house.  Andre and Louis followed.  They watched our alluring bottoms, all red from their punishment and, I doubted not, due to receive more before our stay at the castle was over.  But I did not mind.  We had come here to try new things.  
	ÒWhat- what are we going to dooo?Ó Polly asked me.  I let my eyes fall upon her breasts and I watched as their tips stemmed with wiggling pleasure into the mid-day sun.  
	ÒIÕm going to serve you for dessert,Ó I said to her, thinking quickly.  Yes.  I would lay her out on a sofa, her hands pressed to her sides, and squirt whipped cream on her as she lay watching me.  I would stand over her and decorate her, freely showing my bush, both of us quite nude.  Our boyfriends would watch, astonished, waiting for the scrumptuous dessert to be served.  And weÕd eat her then, feeding like Romans at an orgy, all of us naked as she, but she at least clothed in whipped cream and syrup.
	And weÕd invite Rose.  And sheÕd be delighted by my inventiveness.  She would partake of Polly with us.  I smacked my lips and gazed into PollyÕs eyes.  She was breathless with excitement.
	ÒServed for dessert?Ó she asked.  SheÕd lost enough of her babyishness in her whipping last night to know not to protest.
	ÒYes,Ó I replied.  ÒAs girls, Polly, we must know what our foremost duty is.Ó
	ÒWahtÕs that?Ó she asked, mangling her question a little in her excitment.
	ÒTo serve men,Ó I said.  And, glancing over my shoulder, I knew that before I left this strange castle IÕd see Andre, at least, reduced to dessert himself, his cock stemming up through Cool-Whip, streaked with chocolate syrup, just as JackÕs had been.  The thought made me shiver right through to the depths of my belly.  ÒTo serve men,Ó I said again, and we walked with swinging bottoms into the cool, shadowed sanctuary of the castle.

THE END                 

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