Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in 
HOLLAND HUNNIES

Chapter One

	We were tourists.  We sat mesmerized on the bed, wondering where to go today.  Wondering if we should.
	ÒDungeons to Let,Ó my boyfriend read aloud again.  I snuggled closer to him.  Mark and Elizabeth drew nearer too, Mark grasping me by both my shoulders as he leaned in over me, sitting next to me on the bed.  I sensed Elizabeth getting cuddly-close to my Rob.  	
	We were in Holland.  WeÕd finished Paris, been rather bored, actually, but now I was wondering if it hadnÕt been our fault.  Perfect Puritans, weÕd slept as couples in separate bedrooms, myself with Rob and Elizabeth with her steady, Mark.  Perhaps it was our own growing, gnawing ennui which was keeping our eyes fixed to the ad.  I shifted my gaze, not to my husband, but to Mark.  His manhood was boldly visible in his shorts.  I noticed, for the first time really, how short the legs of his pants were.  His strong, hairy legs sat commandingly on the edge of the bed, a young athletic king.  His hands on my shoulders seemed to press into them, almost painfully.  I kept my mouth shut, though, didnÕt complain.  He was smitten by the ad, he did not mean to hurt me.
	ÒDungeons to Let, HollandÕs Finest.  Quiet, discreet neighborhood.  Pick your favorite.  Hourly or Nightly rates.  Couples Only.Ó  My boyfriend read out the address.  We seemed to savor every word of the number, the street, as if they were sweet candies.  
	ÒSilly, of course,Ó My boyfriend said, looking up.
	ÒDo you think couples really do that?Ó Elizabeth asked.  Her eyes were wide.  Unconsciously, I think, she was stroking the inside of my husbandÕs thigh, her fingers rising ever closer toward his bulging crotch.  
	ÒI guess so, European couples, I imagine,Ó my husband replied.  He tried to say the words dismissively but the last of them caught in his throat.
	ÒI donÕt know about the rest of you, but I suddenly have a very strong urge to fuck someoneÕs brains out,Ó Mark announced unabashedly.  I could see his words were true.  Despite making love to Elizabeth last night, he was already full and ready to go again.  I glanced at Elizabeth, saw her shocked look.  Was she ready for more?  Perhaps she was still sore from last night.  Or just embarassed.  Yes, that was it, for her fingers had crept up to my boyfriendÕs crotch.  Consciously or not she was stroking the outside of his pants where they bound his testicals.  
	I allowed myself the same liberty.  Deftly I squeezed MarkÕs balls, through his pants.  ÒYou sir, couldnÕt possibly be full again already, could you?Ó
	ÒAre you girls going to stroll around again without bras today?Ó Mark asked.  He glanced at my breasts.  They were visibly excited.
	ÒWell, my nipples werenÕt erect yesterday, when we were walking around,Ó I answered sheepishly.  I glanced at ElizabethÕs.  They were as stiff as mine, making little tents in her tight, bulging tee.    
	ÒWe got some looks yesterday, you know,Ó my boyfriend chimed in.  
	ÒSo what?  So what if men look at us?  You two have been turning heads all across Europe,Ó Elizabeth replied.
	ÒYes,Ó I said, firm in my words but not in my heart.  ÒWe will go out in whatever we wish, and you boys will just have to put up with it.  I can just see you two today, striding along with your dicks all hard like they are, stuck inside your pants.  Do you think women wonÕt notice that?Ó
	ÒWell, its the fault of this damn ad,Ó Rob, my boyfriend, replied.  He stabbed the ad in the tourist brouchure with his finger.  
	ÒI want to stop there,Ó Mark announced.
	ÒOnly to look,Ó I told him.
	ÒSure, only to look.Ó
	ÒYou want to go there?Ó my Rob asked me.
	ÒWell,Ó I turned my gaze to Elizabeth.  Her palm had slipped up to the actual protuberance of my boyfriendÕs cock in his pants.  It was as if she were modestly covering his manhood from my eyes.
	ÒIÕll go, to look,Ó Elizabeth said.  ÒWe can stand outside and take a picture of it.  That would be pretty cool, to show to our friends back home.Ó
	ÒOkay,Ó Rob agreed.  ÒI guess IÕd be labelled a chicken if I couldnÕt at least go and stand outside the place.  Something for the scrapbook, I suppose, to entertain the guys back at work.  A real dungeon, not just something you read about in Penthouse.Ó
	ÒYouÕve been reading Penthouse?Ó I asked him.
	ÒWhen I was younger, you know,Ó he replied.
	ÒAs in Ôyounger meaning today I am older than yesterday,ÕÓ Elizabeth teased.  She squeezed his cock, as if sharing with him some private moment.
	ÒOkay, well, yesterday, then,Ó Rob admitted.
	ÒThe magazine had a very alluring older woman in dominatrix attire on the cover,Ó Elizabeth smiled.  My eyes on hers, I let my hand take hold of her own boyfriendÕs cock.  I would match her squeeze for squeeze, whether she was doing it on purpose or not.  Our nipples were quite pointedly poking into our tees, trying to stab through them.  WeÕd each chosen shirts of light, thin cotton.  In the right light you could see the redness of our areoles within the close-fitting tees.  They were tucked in tightly to the waistbands of our skirts.  Our full bosoms alone threatened to rend them, our nipples only made matters worse.   
	ÒI wasnÕt interested in her, just in what she was wearing,Ó my boyfriend tried to explain, but it was a lost cause.  We were beyond caring now.  We had to see that woman, or the version of her that must come with anyplace that advertised ÒDungeons to Let.Ó  I stood.  My skirt was short.  As I fluffed my hair Mark lifted my skirt in back, giving himself an unrestricted view of my behind.  
	ÒKinda short for walking, donÕt you think?Ó he asked.  It was true.  I wore a short denim skirt that promised to respond to the lightest gust of wind, showing off my panties.  It was considerably shorter than the one IÕd worn yesterday.  An antidote to tourist lassitude.
	ÒLook at your own girlfriendÕs,Ó I said.  He knew I meant the length of her skirt, not her panties.  I did not mind him looking at my panties, IÕd suddenly decided, though heÕd not seen me this intimately before.  Somehow he knew, we all knew, that I meant the skirt not my panties.
	ÒYours is too short also,Ó my Rob said to Elizabeth.  She sat still beside him, he lifted her dress in front.  ÒNice panties, though.Ó  They were white, mine were black.
	ÒThank you, sir, I thought you might like them,Ó Elizabeth teased.  They were transparent.  You could see her auburn thatch within them.
	ÒYour girlfriend has a nice muff,Ó Rob told Mark.
	ÒYours has a nice ass,Ó Rob replied.  He patted me, dropped my dress.  He stood up behind me and pressed himself into me.  Rob tickled ElizabethÕs cunny, she giggled.  Her breasts wobbled within her shirt.  They were too light, they showed too much.  We should change them, I knew, and I knew we would not.
	ÒDear, letÕs try it,Ó I said, walking across to my Rob.  I embraced him even as Elizabeth reclaimed Mark.
	ÒAlright, but just a photo,Ó he said.  Somewhere Elizabeth echoed him.

	High noon, yet the street was deep in shade.  Towering elms shrouded the approach to the brownstone, a slim house sitting side by side with other, more domestic abodes.  Next door a woman in her sixties puttered among flowers, slightly ridiculous in her broad hat and oversized work apron.  Me in 40 years, I thought.  A woman shaped like a pear, my beauty gone, battling insects amidst petunias.
	ÒToo much shade,Ó my boyfriend announced.  He was standing in the middle of the quiet street.  WeÕd parked alongside the curb.  Other cars were scattered here and there, concentrating toward the brownstone, but not with any obvious motive.  As if perhaps there were a party inside, no doubt a garden party, the time being mid-day.  A lecture on the ladybug and its reproductive habits, given by an expert to selected invitees.
	ÒGet closer, then,Ó Mark called.  He was already at the foot of the porch.  Someone inside must have sensed him, for the front door opened.  A healthy looking woman, quite normal looking, though quite beautiful, stepped onto the porch.  She was older, perhaps 30, perhaps a little more.  She was dressed quite conventionally in a loose blouse, perhaps hastily put on, I realized.  And overalls, tied at the waist.  She looked as if she were stepping out to do some gardening.
	ÒMay I help you?Ó she asked.  Her voice had a droll diffidence to it, as if she were uncaring, yet amused at our presence.  Peering close I spotted a mischievous sparkle in her eyes.  They and her open, unthreatened stance seemed to invite us.  She would not turn us away.  She would be disappointed if we did not come in. 
	Mark advanced, a hound with a scent.  Rob too walked forward, quickly, taking me by the elbow and dragging me along.  We caught up with Elizabeth, hesitating between us and the house, and took her in on the crest of our lovetide.
	Before I could quite get hold of myself I was indoors, within the house.  The front door closed behind me.  We stood in a parlor, everything arranged just so, as if having arrived as ministers to discuss the bible.  Yet as my eyes adjusted to the light, within the room with its curtains drawn, I began to notice little odd bits; a snakeskin lash hung over the mantlepiece, candle holders in the shapes of long penises, with wax candles thrust down into them as if piercing them with urethral tubes.  And on a table there was a flower vase, but it held colored condoms, in the arranged shape of roses.  Lubricants were scattered across the mantlepiece, different flavors, colors.  The fireset next to the fireplace seemed to possess some added power, as if the tongs and such could be used for more than just rearranging smoldering logs.
	ÒHi, IÕm Mistress Wentworth,Ó our hostess announced, slipping the ties of her pants and drawing her blouse over her head.  ÒSorry about the clothes.  The neighbors, you know.  Got to keep up appearances, even if they do know what goes on here.  To keep the neighborhood children from suspecting...Ó her sentence trailed off as she drew her legs from her pants.  They were long, white, modelÕs legs.  She had hips to match, wearing black velvet bikini panties, tied loosely at the sides.  Above she wore a simple openwork mesh blouse, hiding nothing, her big bosoms looking as if theyÕd been caught in a fishermanÕs net.  The blouse, such as it was, had a decorative ribbon tied in front.  It held closed the two halves of her blouse, which otherwise would have hung from her shoulders like a vest.  Indeed it was a vest, except its latticwork design, made completely of strands of black yarn, kept nothing from our boyfriendÕs eyes.  They stared at this mermaid from the deep, her bouyant bosoms netted, her pussy saved from their prying eyes by the skimpiest of bikinis.  Of course, I thought.  She was sunbathing out back, topless, but with a little net of a blouse to offer a touch of modesty when she got up to answer the door.  Except, seeing strangers, sheÕd put on a blouse and overalls.  My mind still tried to find normality, despite the curios displayed frankly around me.
	ÒYou may undress,Ó Miss Wentworth, as my mind wished to call her, given her youth and beauty, said to the men.  I saw another woman only, nothing more.  She wanted my boyfriend, but she wanted ElizabethÕs also.  And then her eyes were on me, expectantly, wonderingly.  She wanted me to take off my clothes too.
	Rob cleared his throat.  ÒWe, uh, just wanted to see the place,Ó he said.  Miss Wentworth blushed.  She was a normal female, at least now, momentarily.
	ÒYou are not the Lamprights?  The Aspens?Ó she asked.  A fine-fingered hand touched her throat.
	ÒNo, weÕre just -- well, IÕm Rob, this is Mark, these are our girlfriends Sally and Elizabeth.Ó
	ÒOh!  The mistake is mine, then,Ó Miss Wentworth replied.  Her hands seemed to search for buttons to fiddle, but she wore nothing save her net and panties, tied with pretty bows.  ÒI thought you were my reserved American guests, come to play.  You are from America, are you not?Ó  She could tell by our accent.  Her own voice had a Dutch flavor to it, though perhaps with a bit of French intermingled.
	ÒThe pleasure is all ours, belive me,Ó Mark answered, saving Miss Wentworth the shreds of her modesty.  ÒYou exceed even our girlfriends in beauty, and they turned half the heads in Amsterdam yesterday.Ó
	ÒIn such shirts I should think so,Ó Miss Wentworth replied.  Her blush was gone, replaced by a cheery glow.  Frankly she looked at me, Elizabeth.  Even in this light, lit only by an overhead chandelier of modest proportions, you could see our nipples.  I sensed their pique, knew they were embarrassing me as much as Miss WentworthÕs attire before unexpected guests was embarassing her.  I felt dryness in my throat, said nothing.  Elizabeth too was silent.  If our boyfriends removed their shirts, or Elizabeth and I our skirts, we would be no better dressed than Miss Wentworth.
	ÒWould you like to rent a dungeon, then?Ó Miss Wentworth asked.  ÒI require reservations, but the paper did misprint my ad.  YouÕre here now, it would be a pity if I turned you away.Ó  Her eyes apprised us, our boyfriends.  We were healthy specimens for sex play, no doubt, but in a dungeon?
	ÒHow much does it cost?Ó Mark asked.  Miss WentworthÕs eyes seemed to consider waiving the charge as he regarded him.  But then perhaps her state of undress before us forced her to be less generous.  She had to regain the upper hand, somehow, standing before unknown tourists in her own home with no clothes on.  Nothing to speak of, anyway, though on a European beach she would have been perfectly legal; modest even, with her pretty net top.
	ÒIt is $200 U.S. dollars per hour, dear,Ó Miss Wentworth replied.  She turned, giving us a view of her shapely, barely covered bottom.  Her hand slipped onto a charge card machine on a round cherry rosewood table.  ÒWe take all major cards; American Express, Visa, Mastercard, Discover.  I assume you only want a dungeon for an hour or so, given that it is midday?Ó  She turned back to us, grinning, looked at me, Elizabeth.  ÒHave your girlfriends been particularly naughty today?Ó
	ÒNo, no, theyÕre little angels,Ó Rob answered.  ÒCould we see a dungeon?  What do you do in it?Ó
	Miss Wentworth grinned from ear to ear.  ÒOh, darlings, you are virgins!Ó  Rob and Mark exchanged glances.  TheyÕd been up us enough to know they werenÕt still cherry, although they complained we still felt like we were.  Miss Wentworth laughed.  ÒNot virgin-virgins, obviously!Ó  She took a step forward, patted both Rob and Mark on their considerably aroused groins.  ÒThough you bulge like high school boys on a first date, I must admit.  Dungeon-virgins.  IÕll cut the price to $150.  What do you say?  Decide quickly for I must be ready for my other guests when they arrive.Ó
	ÒI guess we could, for an hour,Ó Rob said, looking to Mark.
	ÒYou come with the dungeon?Ó Mark asked, and I wanted to claw him for it, though in fact he wasnÕt mine to claw.
	ÒNo, dear,Ó Miss Wentworth said, patting his cheek now instead of his groin.  ÒLet me show you a dungeon and let you decide one way or the other.Ó  She turned, her net vest swishing round her waist, and walked quickly down a hall, opening a door at the back of the parlor first, stepping confidently through the doorway even as we followed like lost sheep, looking for a shepherd.  Her spiked heels clicked on a hardwood floor.  Our sneakers shuffled across it.
	At the back of the hall Miss Wentworth pulled open a door.  It was stuck a little, and when she got it free her large bosoms bobbled within her net blouse.  Twin mountains trying to shake off snow, they seemed, though the net remained still when they had ceased wobbling.
	ÒHere, this one has everything,Ó she replied.  ÒWhatever your heart desires.  Simple spanking, birching, or even piercing, though IÕd do that with an expertÕs help, if I were you, unless youÕve done it before.  I just re-habbed it, thereÕs some stuff at the back, awful, scary stuff, used in the inquisition or something.  You can remove penises and nipples with it, so be careful.  Anyway, hereÕs the rape rack, some over-large dildos, thereÕs some cuffs here, a branding iron if youÕre adventurous...Ó  We were inside with her before we knew it, staring, goggle-eyed in our appearance.  I reached for RobÕs hand, pressed myself close to him.
	ÒNo, no,Ó Miss Wentworth said, turning and facing us, the spectacular equipment all around us.  ÒYou are his girlfriend?Ó  I nodded.  ÒYou must have, Mark is it?  Yes, you must have Mark then, and Rob must have Elizabeth.  Be a little bold, at least.Ó  She exchanged us, patting our bottoms in encouragement, so that I stood huddled with Mark and Elizabeth with my Rob.  ÒThere.  Now how about those skirts, girls?  This is not a bathroom, or a bedroom, but IÕll bet you wouldnÕt mind it if your new boyfriends got buckets and washed you down, would you?  Or fucked you on the bondage table instead of in a bed?Ó  I fiddled with the belt of my miniskirt, unbuckled it but did no more.
	ÒI guess we could, ah, look around for an hour or so,Ó Rob said.  He surveyed the room.  ÒIt would be quite the thing to talk about back home.Ó
	ÒHell, forget the talk,Ó Mark said.  He spoke boldly but kept his clothes on.  ÒWe should enjoy ourselves.  IÕd like to stay all day.Ó
	ÒIf you wish, I could waive the charges entirely,Ó Miss Wentworth offered.  ÒI have a special couple.  They live next door.  They relish seeing newbies try out a dungeon.  All the doors to the dungeons have a peephole in them, so I can check up on people.  Usually they are closed.  But if you let me leave one open, for my voyeuristic couple, I will charge them instead of you.  That way you could enjoy the dungeon for as long as you wish, for free!  You wouldnÕt be expected to do anything, just do what comes naturally.Ó  She cast her eyes over our boyfriendsÕ substantial groins, immodestly concealed in their tight little shorts.  
	ÒOkay,Ó Mark said, making the decision for all of us.  ÒLeave the peephole open.  WeÕre from America, no one knows us, weÕll never be back.  Let whomever look at us, though I canÕt say weÕll do anything except admire your equipment.Ó
	ÒIÕm sure the same would please them,Ó she replied.  ÒWould you mind if I interrupt you now and then to bring you refreshments?Ó
	ÒCanÕt say weÕll stay that long, but sure,Ó Rob replied.  ÒPut them on our tab, so to speak.Ó
	ÒOh, refreshments are always free,Ó Miss Wentworth replied.  ÒThough IÕm not always the one who serves them.Ó  There was promise in her eyes.  The men cast their glance over her figure again, relieving her of her panties with their stare, leaving her the net perhaps.  With an alluring wiggle in her bottom, self-conscious perhaps, she made for the door.  She slipped out, closed it behind us.  We heard it lock from outside.  We were alone.  The room was cool, like a wine cellar.  Yet I found my fingers at my belt again, separating the tongue from the buckle completely.
	Mark was the first to drop his shorts.  His cock sprang free, released at last from the binding fabric.  Rob saw us girls dart our eyes to his manhood, painfully erect and throbbing.  He did not want to be outdone.  He dropped his own shorts, gave us a breathtaking view of his own dick, powerfully hard and aroused.
	ÒWhere did she say that cock-cutting off machine was?Ó Elizabath smirked at me.  We both felt slightly embarassed, seeing our boyfriends displaying themselves to our eyes.  Neither of us had ever seen the otherÕs boyfriend naked before.
	ÒThey are naughty,Ó I agreed.  I stepped up to Mark and placed the tip of my finger over his pee hole.  The fact that we were being watched had escaped me entirely by now, given how excited I was at being in such an odd place, with ElizabethÕs boyfriend standing naked in front of me.  ÒSir, I hope you are not absolutely lewd.  You arenÕt going to show me that white stuff in your balls too, are you?  IÕll keep my finger right here to keep you plugged up if I have to.Ó  Teasingly I indented the head of his cock, afraid that his seed would come burbling up all around my fingerÕs tip.  I could not stop him if he wanted to cum, I knew.
	ÒDonÕt worry, I can control myself as well as your boyfriend can,Ó Mark assured me.
	ÒCome on, girls, show us your panties at least,Ó Rob whined, perhaps irritated a bit at how quickly I took to Mark.  Elizabeth had her back to him, contemplating perhaps the location of the penis removal device.
	ÒWell IÕm getting totally buck naked,Ó Mark announced.  IÕd stepped back, denying him any further attention.  I walked to Elizabeth and took her hand.  We exchanged smiles.  ÒI want to be able to say that I stood naked in a dungeon in Holland, with Miss Wentworth watching me through a peephole.Ó  Jealously I turned, watched as Mark removed every stitch of his clothing, right down to his shoes and socks.  My Rob did likewise, lustily bandying his cock about when he was barefoot and bare, as if Miss Wentworth herself were at this moment masturbating her clit on the other side of the door, watching it all with relish.
	I reached back, unzipped my skirt, my too short miniskirt that could not be seen in polite company in the out-of-doors, if one were to believe the prudes of this world.  I showed my panties between the unzipped halves, then let the dress drop to my ankles, leaving me only my undies and tee.  And my sneakers, of course, for walking, though there was not much room to walk in here.  ElizabethÕs dress slithered down her legs and she stepped out of it.  I left mine behind, advancing a step.  Then she and I both pulled up our t-shirts, lifting them with crossed-over arms so that our nipples wiggled nicely when the hem passed over their stiff tips.
	ÒThe panties too,Ó Mark said, as we strolled bare-chested toward our boyfriends.  I slipped mine down, hesitated at mid-thigh, then cast them down the rest of the way and lifted my still-sneakered feet out of them.  Elizabeth did likewise.
	ÒI donÕt care about the sneakers,Ó Mark said, as I bent over to untie mine.
	ÒLook!  A swing!Ó Elizabeth remarked.  She took my arm and led me to it.  There was a leather seat, suspended from two chains.  It was a padded bolster of leather, wide enough to perch the bottom on.  Otherwise it was like a childÕs swing at a playground.  Elizabeth helped me step up onto the swing, I had to step onto a little box to get on it.  She kicked the box away when IÕd seated myself.  I felt my bottom cheeks splurge on the leather, making me look bigger in back.  I looked over my shoulder and saw an array of whips hung on the wall behind me.  I shivered.  Surely Elizabeth did not mean to whip me, did she?  I had never done anything to her to merit such punishment, had I?  Were were just playing.  A nice swing (if a bit odd, perhaps) in a strange room in a strangerÕs house in Holland.  Not something you could put on a postcard and send to your Aunt Mary, but fun nonetheless. 
	I settled onto the swing and wondered if someone would give me a push.  Elizabeth lifted my wrists up.  I meant to merely take hold of the chains but she drew my grip higher.  When my arms were almost fully extended she wrapped cuffs around my wrists.  They were attached to the swingÕs chains.  I looked up and saw several sets of cuffs, positioned for arms of varying lengths.  One set was quite low down, as if for a little girl.
	In front, Mark took command.  I saw that the swing was waist-height, perfect for impaling me on his penis, which made itself quite noticeable by still being quite erect, the bulbous head just inches from my vulnerable cunny.  He was doing something with my legs, I saw.  He drew my knees apart, keeping them level with my hips.  I felt utterly exposed before him.  He could shaft himself right up to my womb at any moment.  Rob picked up a bar as long as my thigh.  He twisted it, adjusting its length.  There were interlocking pieces inside which, when twisted together, allowed one to extend the bar out or in to fit someoneÕs leg.  Like a telescope he adjusted it until it was just the right length for my thigh.  At one end there was a hook to fasten it to the bolster-part of my swing, on the outside.  Rob fixed the pole so that it stuck out at a wide angle from my swing.  Then Mark pressed my leg out until my thigh could be bound to the pole.  There was a leather cuff for my knee.  Gently Rob fitted my knee into the cuff and snapped it closed.
	Another pole was put at the other end of my swing, for my other leg.  The boys drew it out and snapped it into place, leaving me with my legs in a wide vee and my pussy defenseless.  They stood before me, their cocks rigid, admiring their handiwork, as Elizabeth gave my bare bottom a little push with her hands.
	ÒWheee!Ó I cried, pleased despite myself at the freedom of the swing, although my wrists and legs were as imprisoned as if IÕd been put in Alcatraz.  As I neared the apex of my swing I nearly bumped MarkÕs penis, his cockhead already drooling at the propect of jetting his main load into my cunt.
	ÒShe looks nice, donÕt you think?Ó Rob asked.  I blushed, swinging again with a helpful push from Elizabeth.
	ÒShe should do it herself, though,Ó Mark said, and I saw him nod to Elizabeth.  Taking his cue, she went to the wall and took down a pony whip.  Fearfully I watched her draw the thin tail of leather over her open palm.  She liked it.  She was going to use it on me!
	ÒSWWWICK!Ó I heard the whip crack lightly behind me and it landed on my fulsome heinie, my spreading cheeks rebounding as I felt the stroke.  I could indeed swing myself, I realized, and my yelp proved it.  I bumped MarkÕs cockhead as I swung out.  HeÕd stepped in.  Each cut of the whip would propel me directly into impalement.  There was no fore-swing space left to me, only the aft-swing that led directly to ElizabethÕs whip.
	Oh, how did I wind up on a swing with a whip at my tender heinie and my splayed legs inviting impalement?  Did Elizabeth and Mark know some tricks they hadnÕt told us about?  Just what did Rob learn yesterday, reading Penthouse?
	The next awful slice of the whip drove me right into MarkÕs cock.  My pussy lips felt him bang against them.  I swung back, then forward again, hitting him where he wished it most, with my most tender aperture, soft and moist and oh so invitingly vulnerable.  Back and forth, back and forth again, until suddenly he seized me in the upswing (such as it was) and drove himself into me.
	ÒAh!  Please!Ó I begged.  Elizabeth moved in for the kill, slicing up my bottoms as if they were hams displayed on a cutting board for Christmas dinner.
	ÒNo!  Oh!  Please!Ó I cried aloud, my big tits wobbling all about as Mark thrust himself into me, then in and out as if his hips were themselves on some kind of swing.  Elizabeth came round in front of me and shared my tits with Rob, eaching taking one and sucking it.  I felt like a cow, my breasts squeezed and suckled, while Mark worked himself in and out of me below, candidly fucking me even as eyes peered in through the peephole.
	ÒYes!  Yes!  Do her!Ó Elizabeth encouraged, coming up for air as she suckled at my ample breasts, Rob echoing her encouragement.  Mark earnestly fucked me, sending me into transports of bliss atop my bottom-aching swing, my reddened heinie still exposed for whatever else they had in mind for me.
	The dungeon door unbolted, Misstress Wentworth entered, tripping over her high heels.  She joined us at the swing and took up position behind Mark.  With her sharp-nailed fingers she grasped him by the cheeks of his buttocks.  
	ÒOooh, yes, fuck your best friendÕs wife,Ó she urged.  She grippingly massaged his buttocks even as she forced him into me.  ÒSpend your seed in her womb, do it!  Make her pregnant with your child, not his.  Come, tell me when you spurt and I will squish your balls for you so you get every drop inside her.Ó  In a mirror I saw her shift a hand down, find his swelling pouch between his hairy thighs, indrawn, tight up against his crotch.  Her sharp-nailed fingers tickled him there.  Then she had both hands on his buttocks again, squeezing his haunches and urging him in and out of me.    
	Amidst my bliss I turned my head.  The dungeon door remained open!  Two figures, elegantly clad, stood there.  They were mid-40ish, not the gardening woman in her 60Õs who IÕd imagined would be watching us with her husband.  The man had his cock out and his wife or mistress (which I did not know) was stroking it.  Her gown had been opened in front, her breasts showed.  He seemed to be palming her ass, deeply.  She jerked.  I guessed her dress must be slit up the back, too high perhaps to keep him out.
	ÒNo!  Ah!  Take yourself out!Ó I cried, foolishly.  I did not want to be seen fucking.  What was I in there eyes that a whore on the strip was not, in Vegas, fucking in public for private pleasure?  
	ÒMmmm, give her your seed,Ó Misstress Wentworth urged Mark, though she seemed enthralled that he had lasted so long.  Gallantly he fucked me, a knight without his shining armor, or perhaps he was the knightÕs horse, locked in the barn if no longer kept precisely in his stable, the door to it being open.  In the door stood the farmer and his wife, in my imagination, watching the mare (myself) being inseminated.  We would make foals together, the foam of his balls mixing within the depths of my womb with my little waiting eggs there.
	ÒAh, you must have an Energizer battery up your ass!Ó Mistress enthused.  She jammed a finger into his rosehole and Mark groaned.  It was the kiss of death, I realized, her impromptu sodomization.  She realized it too and dug deeper, simultaneously dropping her other hand, as promised, to his balls.  She squeezed him hard, trying to yank his testes down to prevent him from spilling even as she buggered him in behind, inspiring him anew.
	ÒGod, I canÕt--Ó
	ÒYou must!Ó Mistress shouted, pulling hard to try to get his twin nuts safely down, albeit slightly injured perhaps from all her yanking.
	ÒNo!  No!  No!Ó Mark strove with himself, desperate to cum and yet wanting to prolong his pleasure further, Mistress giving him double-signals from behind, an alluring digit in his ass for green and a hard-tugging fist on his balls for red.
	For a long moment Mark teetered on the brink.  Then, somehow, he regained control.  Mistress got his balls down a bit and held them tight.  Mark yelped.  But he was in her hands, his own muscles inside contracting hard to keep whatever lay below from bubbling up.  Mistress grabbed Elizabeth by her hair and tore her lips from my breast.  Just by looking at her, the girl knew somehow what was needed.  Elizabeth, bare for her new white sneakers, dashed to the wall, against which sat a narrow table.  She ran back to us, a leather cock ring in her uplifted hands.  It was her own boyfriend, and she was giving it to a strange woman.  
	Mistress Wentworth took the cock ring and secured it rapidly around MarkÕs slightly descended balls.  She had to knock his ankles into a winder stance to get both her hands between his legs, but Mark seemed not to mind, though the act of binding his balls was no doubt excruciating.  At least from the point of view of deprived pleasure, for his cockhead still waited hopefully just within my pussy.  I was wet there, his pre-cum drooling within me and my own moistness readying my channel for whatever new assault he intended.  Elizabeth stroked the visible portion of his prong.  She encouraged him to hold himself in until she could mount the swing in my place.  My own boyfriend left his station at my side, where heÕd supped on my breasts, for the equally tempting hillocks of MistressÕ bottom.  He stepped behind her and artfully lowered her panties to mid-thigh.  She scolded him but said nothing else.  He jabbed his rock-hard member playfully between the halves of her derriere.  He searched for and quickly found her anus.  He assaulted her lightly in behind even as Mark still assaulted me, though Rob had yet to bury his plum inside her entrance.  He merely knocked on the door, his cockhead lusciously trapped twixt her flexing bottom cheeks.  Mark had himself within me.  Only permission from Mistress kept him from thrusting up and spilling himself in my womb.
	ÒYes, that should do it,Ó Mistress said half-aloud to herself.  Mark emitted a groan as he experienced some new agony under the tuteledge of the cockstrap.  I spoke the word aloud and Mistress corrected me.
	ÒSally, it is not a cockstrap.  MarkÕs cock remains totally free.  It is what we girls call a ÔballbusterÕ sometimes, for it separates the scrotum into an upper half-tightly constricted, and a lower half, where, as you see, his nuts bulge out lewdly like over-ripe fruit.  She cupped his obscenely distended and gorged testicals, holding them lightly in her palm as if they were extraordinarily delicate, even as the ball-wrap kept him in mortal agony.  Well, perhaps he was not actually in pain, but his face looked it, all scruched up with a lingering desire to rid himself of his preciously-saved seed.
	ÒWe did not fuck last night,Ó Elizabeth admitted.  She turned from massaging his penis-pole to gently detaching it from my hungry cunt.  It popped out and she bent and licked the head.  ÒI had a headache, didnÕt like the room we were staying in.  I was hoping weÕd find something more romantic this evening.  I guess we didnÕt have to wait for that, though, did we?Ó she grinned up at me, Mistress, sharing female secrets with her eyes.
	ÒMy, such a sturdy husband.  How naughty it was of you to deny him last night,Ó Mistress scolded Elizabeth.  ÒThere must be some special punishment for that, donÕt you think, Sally?  At least in a place like this there must be.Ó
	ÒI-I guess so,Ó I agreed.  My mind was still swimming in expecatation and bliss, caught short in my own pleasure.  
	ÒElizabeth, take charge of things while I get us a tray of refreshments,Ó Mistress told her, promoting her to substitute mistress just seconds after nominating her for our new victim.
	ÒOkay,Ó Elizabeth said, confused at her changing roles.  Perhaps she was both still, mistress now and pretty victim later, on some swing-like device of her own.  Looking at RobÕs cock I knew there must be something in store for her.  And her own eyes seemed to want it.  SheÕd not tasted pleasure yet.  Mistress left, slipping past our admirers yet not ordering them out, as if they might act as guards to keep others from entering, saving her having to set down her tray to unbolt our door.
	The three of my friends unfastened my legs and arms and helped me down from my perch.  
	ÒMy bottom hurts,Ó I complained, with an accusing glance at Elizabeth.  She giggled, her hand to her mouth, said nothing.  With awkward steps I walked to a bench, Elizabeth guiding me by one elbow as Rob helpfully guided me by the other.  Mark, my assailant, seemed most discomforted of all, walking with a duck-like gait to the bench, his balls forcibly descedned by his ball-harness and held there for future spermings.
	Mistress returned, her black panties still at mid-thigh where Rob had left them.  She seemed not to mind how they hobbled her step, made it shorter.  She retained her mesh blouse; it concealed nothing, held nothing, and prevented no one from playing with her.  Yet she looked half-regal in it, though her hair was slightly mussed now, the clothed in the land of the bare.  (Save our admirers, perhaps, for whom the door was now closed, leaving them in with us, though they remained at a distance.)
	I plopped on the bench, Mark beside me.  I rested my head on his shoulder.  He stroked my hair.  Rob sat down with Elizabeth.  Gently they frigged each otherÕs privates, wanting more but knowing Mistress would not permit it yet.  I patted MarkÕs cock.  It was tumescent, his balls bulging and churning below.  Helpfully he stabbed his cock in the air, encouraging me to do more.  Mistress bent over, her ass reflecting itself in a mirror opposite us, and kissed Mark on the head of his cock.
	ÒBe good now, we must refresh ourselves,Ó she said.  She stood erect again, brushed her hair from her eyes where it had fallen in her bending.  SheÕd set her tray on a stool and she offered us crackers now, with caviar on them and cheese in a can.  She squirted the cheeze onto each caviar-laden cracker before handing it to us.  I considered mine, unsure.
	ÒEat it, darlings, it will make you more fertile.  The cheese should help you get it down.  It contains a bit of my own secret love potion too, so we can go all night.  Our guests will be most appreciative.Ó  She glanced in the direction of the two who stood over us, clad but for the manÕs cock and the womanÕs sumptuous breasts.  Their faces wore party masks, I saw now, to shield their identities from our eyes.  I had been too blissful before to notice.
	ÒOh, I cannot!Ó Elizabeth whined, holding her cracker aloft and contemplating it and the observing couple.  I knew not which she refused.  Both, perhaps.
	ÒRefusal in the dungeon is taken merely as an invitation for punishment,Ó Mistress replied.  Lightly she pushed the cracker with her fingers into ElizabethÕs open mouth.  The girl ate it, munching softly.  I popped mine in and ate it also.  I did not wish to be punished any more than I had already been.
	ÒLetÕs see to that beautiful bottom of yours,Ó Mistress told me.  She took a white bearskin rug folded nearby and unfurled it.  She laid it on the floor.  At her urging I lay down upon it on my belly.  ÒOhhh, how awful of her,Ó Mistress said, stroking my flinching hiney.  I sensed mischief in her voice.  ÒYou can take much more, though, before the night is over, though you do need some cream now to soothe it.Ó  Before I could wriggle up she was athwart my waist, sitting on me as one might a log, her thighs splayed over my uprearing back.  She bathed my bottom with sweet-smelling oil, prying even into my uninjured anus as the others watched, including our masked friends.
	ÒOh!  I am not hurt there!Ó I complained as she explored my rosehole, my clenching back door.  
	ÒBut you might be.  It is only two in the afternoon.  We have many hours ahead of us and your boyfriends are still hard as stone,Ó Mistress replied.  Within me her finger twirled as I jerked my hips in response.  No one else complained save me.
	ÒWell, men, are you rested?Ó Elizabeth asked brightly when she had oiled me where I needed it not.  Her voice was bright, cheery.  Our boyfriends, desperate more than rested, gulped out replies that could only be taken as requests to ejaculate.  Their penises, once so randily displayed, were rapidly becoming a liability.  There was too much temptation for them here and not enough relief.  Which is exactly, no doubt, how Mistress wanted it.  An unforgettable experience in the Dungeon of Love, even for me, with my well-prepared ass rearing up most invitingly even as I strove to keep things out of it.
	By now we were all so enthralled by our nude adventures in the dungeon that we cared not that strangers were watching us.  All of us trembled still on the brink of unanswered pleasure.  That strangers, even masked ones, who cared nothing for us, gazed upon us meant nothing.  Indeed, it seemed somehow perversely inspiring.  Their emotions concealed, they gazed most intently at those parts of us which would normally be unseen in polite society.  And they wished to see our privates raided.  All manner of horrid things could happen to oneÕs privates in a dungeon such as this.  They gazed leeringly, hopefully.  I shuddered, could do nothing.  I was a prisoner of Mistress and my own desire.
	ÒElizabeth, suck upon Rob so he can poke you in your hiney while Mark takes Sally that way,Ó Mistress urged.  Elizabeth, having trained herself on my breasts, now turned to my boyfriend.  Eagerly she knelt before him, her thighs spread alluringly wide, as if asking to be poked even whilst she licked him.
	ÒI donÕt know if I need the encouragement,Ó Rob gurgled, feeling the insucking of ElizabethÕs mouth as she drew him in.
	ÒControl, dear boy, control,Ó Mistress replied.  She sat atop me still, brushed her hair back and admired ElizabethÕs sucking.  Then she turned and sucked Mark, diddling me meanwhile on my clitty with her oiled finger.
	Soon both men were groaning with their need to come.  I gasped beneath mistress, on the verge of orgasm myself.  Only poor Elizabeth remained unattended to.  Gamely she kept both her hands wrapped about RobÕs balls, holding them down as far as she could to keep him from spurting in her mouth.
	ÒGood, good,Ó Mistress said admiringly between sucking breaths on MarkÕs cock.  ÒYou are a willing and able pupil, Elizabeth.  I shall teach you much.Ó  Perhaps fearfully or with a desire to assent, Elizabeth jerked her bottom.  Mistress leaned forward, pressing a hand to my soft ass cheeks and leaving MarkÕs cock thrusting madly in the air, vacant of anywhere to spurt save in mid-air.  She swatted ElizabethÕs bottom hard, producing a howl from the girl.
	ÒWhat was that for?Ó Elizabeth asked.  Tears welled in her eyes.  ÒI thought I was being good!Ó
	ÒYou are, dear, until now, when you took your head from RobÕs cock.  If someone wishes to spank your pretty bottom while you are giving head, you must concentrate on the cock in your mouth, not the hand on your bottom.Ó  With a scowl mistress got Elizabeth to return to RobÕs cock.  Quickly mistress gave her a half-dozen more slaps, testing her resolve to service Rob.  Elizabeth emitted muffled yelps but dutifully kept Rob in her mouth and her hands up by his balls, squeezing them all the harder even as her sucking drew upon him more deeply.
	ÒOh!  God!  Stop!Ó Rob cried.  He did not want to come, though just moments before he had sought just such a release.  Always on the brink of coming men try to pull back, to go for more pleasure.  Elizabeth felt his sperm rising within his loins.
	ÒMistress!  What shall I do?Ó Elizabeth yelled, but it was too late.  Having taken her lips from Rob to speak she got a faceful of sperm.  It shot and spurted all over her even as she tried to recapture it in her mouth.  How embarrasing!  In front of strangers!  When Elizabeth finally turned from her failed task of bringing Rob up but not off, I saw that her face looked as if it had been creamed.  Sperm was in her eyes, matted in loose strands of her hair.  It was all over her nose and mouth.  Elizabeth blinked through the manly cream at mistress.  ÒIÕm sorry,Ó she apologized.
	ÒAt least Mark here still has his load,Ó Mistress replied.  She tickled him underneath his cockhead, nearly making him shoot too.  Somehow my boyfriend had failed, at least in the initial round, where Mark had cum through with flying colors, his seed still safely contained in his balls.
	ÒSuch are the vissitudes of arousal,Ó mistress said to me, patting my head.  She bent forward and consoled me with cooling licks of her tongue upon my hiney.
	ÒUp!  Darlings,Ó Mistress urged us.  Bodily she lifted me from the comfy bearskin.  Up onto my feet I rose, a little wobbly still, my cunny tingling from her finger.  Elizabeth, the bride at a wedding where the cake had been put into her face (or so it looked!) got to her feet unsteadily, wiping sperm from her eyes so she could see.  And my Rob, limp now but hopefully soon to return to the fray, stood, as did Mark.  He seemed to be of special interest to Mistress, at least for what remained still neatly bagged twixt his legs.  Gently, taking him by his swollen cockhead, Mistress led Mark deeper into the dungeon.  Our observers followed, though at a distance.  We were players and they our appreciative audience.
	Mistress put MarkÕs back to a post.  His cock stuck out at a ninety degree angle, stiff as the wood she wished to bind him to.  He did not complain.  He was beyond complaining.  He was submerged in a world where only the passionate surging of his loins existed, nothing else.  All around him boobs quavered temptingly, one pair only belonging to the girlfriend he loved, the rest to new females, young and healthy and reproductively fit, their honeyed pussies tightly offered.  We teased him with caressing fingers and hands, careful not to make him spill.  Mistress raised his muscled arms above his head.  With frayed ropes she bound his wrists, ropes affixed to the post for generations now perhaps.  They had, she whispered, held Jews during the Nazi occupation, men struggling as Mark struggled now, with cock displayed.  Nazi women perhaps had pleasured themselves with men here, Jewish men or French resistance fighters, tickling their balls or cutting them off, as they wished or as the Fuhrer required.  Now only Mistress ruled, and her games were less violent, though just as arduous.  
	Mark, his wrists bound now, stabbed the air with his cock.  Being bound, having enjoyed the pleasure of MistressÕ closeness, her breasts, stiff nippled, pricking his chest as she tied him, he wanted to be free again.  But we would not let him.  We danced round him like naked savages, Indians without our warpaint on, our breasts bouncing on our chest like loose melons.  Mistress fetched a hose.  It was the only source of water in our private dungeon room, she said, attached to a faucet that emitted only ice cold water.
	ÒOoooh, you look a little excited, darling,Ó Mistress cooed to Mark with a devilish look in her eyes.  My Rob stood by, looking forlorn despite the obvious hardships Mark was enduring, his penis standing erect, his butt wilfully grinding against the wood post despite the danger of splinters.  Men want so desperately to play, yet can only lose, shooting their seed and ending the game.  With his stiff cock waggling helplessly, hopelessly in the air, Mark watched Mistress as she put the hose to his cock.  One hose facing down another, one man, the other man-made.  ÒYou need a cold shower.  Elizabeth, turn on the tap, please.  Only ice-cold water comes out of this hose, young man, so if this doesnÕt cool you down I donÕt know what will!Ó  As Mark watched the hose with fearful yet enthralled eyes, his girlfriend ran to the faucet.  She bent, offering us a view of her alluring bottomcheeks with their sweetly-curved undersides uplifted, her cunny peeping between.  Sperm dripped from her face onto the facet handle.  My boyfriendÕs sperm.  She gripped it, twisted the handle.
	ÒAuggh!Ó Mark cried aloud, his voice echoing in our dungeon chamber.  Water from the fjords of Norway, or some deep artesian well, spurted coldly onto his boldly displayed prick.  Over it the water freely sloshed, a teasing reminder of the freedom with which he wished to slosh out the contents of his own balls, drawn from deep within the well of his own loins.  ÒAughghg!Ó  He cried again, yet now I saw he was adjusting slightly to the spray, enjoying it, loving the soothing cooling sensation that washed his cock, bathed it with clean cool water, ice water from the deep earth sprayed lovingly onto his organ.  Yet he remained utterly hard.  His veined member pulsed more vigorously than ever.  His breath puffed in his cheeks, his chest heaved, last of all his stomach clenched and eased.  He stood quietly in the spray.  Mistress kept the hose on his cock only.  The water ran from it, spattered his legs and the floor, cleansed his tightly-held balls beyond.  But all else remained dry.  His chest hair, his face, his knotted-off arms and wrists.  Only his loins enjoyed the intense ordeal pleasure of the water; shocking at first, easing now, pure pleasure at last.  Soon he was thinking only of his own need to cum again, though the water spurted on.
	ÒOff!Ó Mistress ordered.  Bottom swaying, fruit of her breasts, pendant, Elizabeth twisted off the faucet.  Jiggling like Eve she returned to us.  SheÕd hoped to wash her face but Mistress had not given permission yet.
	Elizabeth turned and regarded Mark.  Her own slit pulsed hungrily, unfed.  ÒMistress, please let me mount him,Ó Elizabeth begged.  She looked wide-eyed at his engorged, finely displayed penis, a child window shopping before a favorite candy store.  
	ÒYour treat must wait, dear,Ó Mistress said.  There were other posts nearby.  She led Elizabeth to one and bound her facing it.  There was a padded leather bolster some distance in front of it.  Binding ElizabethÕs wrists high on the post, facing it, meant arching her over the bolster that stood in front of the post.  Arched thus Elizabeth stood with her bottom offered to us.  Her posture was of someone leaning forward to reach for something she could not quite get.  Mistress slipped her palms to the insides of ElizabethÕs thighs.  With outward pressing hands she spread Elizabeth from behind.  I took her cue and knelt.  I brushed hair from my face.  I was graceful even now.  We had visitors, watching us.  I must be graceful for them even in my nudity.  I bound ElizabethÕs left ankle to a steel ring set in the floor.  I scuttled round on my knees to ElizabethÕs right ankle, bound that one also.  I stood, Mistress stepped back from Elizabeth.  Wriggling in her bent posture Elizabeth rolled her bottom before us, a fish caught yet unstabbed as yet with the necessary harpoon.
	Mistress turned to our guests.  The manÕs cock was hard.  His mistress stroked it with loving fingers.  Her breasts showed, plump gourds ready for the feast.  
	ÒSir, would you like to take her?Ó Mistress asked our male visitor.  
	ÒNo!Ó Elizabeth cried.  The man wore a mask.  She had not a clue who he was.
	ÒShush, dear.  He is free of disease.  You have no right to refuse here, as you might on the street.  You are here to be fucked and that is the beginning and end of it.Ó  Elizabeth, though, perhaps to be coy, perhaps truly not wanting it from this man, wriggled disobediently at her post, her bottom nonetheless sweetly if forcibly offered.
	ÒI do not want to!  Not with him!Ó Elizabeth protested quite loudly.
	ÒThen you must, dear, shush or I shall bring a whip to your bottom,Ó Mistress replied.
	ÒLet me!Ó I said.  I wanted revenge for the games sheÕd played with mine.
	ÒYes, that would be nice, wouldnÕt it?Ó Mistress answered.  ÒUse a strap, though.  I want you to hit her as hard as you can, and a whip would be to thin and cruel for that, at least on such a young child.  She is not even twenty yet, are you dear?Ó Mistress regarded Elizabeth lovingly but with no temperment for letting her escape what must come.
	ÒI am--I am-- I am 17!Ó Elizabeth squawked, a duck protestething to much the Christmas feast.
	ÒWah!Ó Elizabeth shouted as mistress slapped her bottom with her hand.
	ÒYou are nothing of the sort, dear.  You are nineteen, I am sure of it.  Is she not, Mark?Ó  Mistress said.  Her boyfriend nodded.  His face was grim but he was enduring his blissful agony on the post well.  He knew not whether he wanted to cum or not, only that his huge engorged organ was bothering him mightly, throbbing and pulsing and waving about cockily, hungry for pussy, hungry to spend.  Rob meanwhile was newly inspired, his own rod rising quickly.  In minutes he would be ready to rejoin us.  We might torture him then too, and he knew it.  And the thought made him harder still.
	I fetched a strap from the wall, a broad one that would allow me to give her many strokes.  Elizabeth, her hair tousled, looked back at me over her shoulder.  Her face was still dewy with expended sperm.  Rob was making more for her.  She would have a plaster sperm-mask made of her face before daybreak, I thought.
	ÒNo!  Please!  IÕm sorry!  WhoooooOH!Ó Elizabeth howled.  Without remorse I slammed the first stroke of the belt into her bottom, walloping her hard as I could with it.  It was flat leather, not the buckle.  I held that in my fist.  Even I was not that wicked.
	ÒAgain.  Harder,Ó Mistress encouraged.
	I swung in again.  ElizabethÕs hiney took the blow, her hips rocked, her bottom cheeks pressed in and rebounded.  A red splurge spread across them, they wobbled sweetly.
	ÒA little harder.Ó Mistress advised.
	Again I drew my hand, my arm back.  I swung in fiercely, slapped her fully across both cheeks.  Elizabeth nearly jumped to the ceiling, or wished to, her ankles straining at their bonds.  
	ÒYes, good.  Now that you have tested the limits of your strength and know what you can do, now that you are no longer afraid, ease off a little, give her broad swathing strokes, harsh but not evil.  She can stand the pain and her bottom can suffer the punishment.  It is just fat, nothing else.  You are only using a strap.  Give her what she deserves and make her remember that Holland was not, after all, utterly boring.Ó  With MistressÕ patter of encouragement in my ear I slung in two more sweeping strokes.  Elizabeth hooted and lost her composure, began sobbing.  Her tears mingled with my boyfriendÕs sperm.
	ÒOh, stoppp!Ó Elizabeth called out to us.  She waggled her tushy, hoping to shed the sting of the strap as a dog sheds off water.  Mistress walked over to her, looked directly into her imploring brown eyes.  She drew back her hand and slapped Elizabeth right across her cheek, though I noticed the blow landed less harshly than MistressÕ exaggerated hand-sweep might have implied.  Both womansÕ bosoms shook.
	Elizabeth looked shocked for a moment.  Just before she was about to bawl forth new tears, Mistress caught her face in a gripping delicate hand, squishing her cheeks together and making her mouth pucker out between them.  She kissed the girl, then looked at her tear stained face with open admiration.  ÒYou look beautiful when youÕre crying!Ó Mistress told Elizabeth.  She licked her lips, her own lips, for upon contact with ElizabethÕs sheÕd picked up traces of my boyfriendÕs sperm.  
	Elizabeth did look beautiful, I thought, weighing the strap in my palm, waiting for their tableau to finish.  Of course, she looked just as beautiful, in my eyes, when not crying, but to have mentioned that might have abated the whipping.
	ÒYou shall strap me one day if IÕm not careful enough to avoid it, you delicious minx,Ó Mistress consoled Elizabeth, giving her a second kiss, tasting more sperm.  She did not mean by force, either, I guessed, for Elizabeth had a tawny strength about her that might have posed a challenge even for Rob or Mark.  You could not readily tell it, looking at her slim, supple arms, modelÕs arms, widest at the joints with bare flesh and bone in between.  But IÕd watched her bind Mark, seen how sheÕd overcome his momentary reservations and struggles.  Perhaps sheÕd learned karate as a little girl, or judo, something that left no traces in the bodyÕs formation but gave it learning and depth of strength all the same.  
	Mistress whisked herself away from Elizabeth, licking her lips once more to taste the residue of sperm sheÕd picked up in kissing her, and ordered me to begin again.
	In the cool of our private dungeon Elizabeth gave a hip-wriggling display of her over-warmed posterior.  And I was the one who was doing it to her--me, a complete novice in the art of Òbasting the bottom,Ó as Mistress chose to refer to it, whispering in my ear that I could make her ass as Òwell doneÓ as I wished.  
	ÒOh!  I do not want to hurt her!Ó I replied.  And indeed my strokes, hard as I might have tried to make them, had been awkward at best.  She was quite reddened in the rear, but injured nowhere.  I noticed that her Òbottom basting,Ó due entirely to me, was arousing my precious boyfriend in a major way.  Instead of Ògetting evenÓ with Elizabeth, as I imagined myself to be doing at first, I was merely creating in my boyfriend a desire to fuck her!  His cock, fully erect now, quavered with every blow of the belt on ElizabethÕs tender bottom.  It seemed somehow mentally connected to her ass, its stiff quivering most pronounced when she yahooed and flexed her cheeks.  
	Suddenly I threw the belt down.  ÒOh!  I can do no more!  It is doing no good!Ó I cried.  Mistress knew exactly what I meant.  She took my boyfriend by his hand and drew him cock-quivering to ElizabethÕs wriggling fanny.
	ÒFeel, honey,Ó she said, more intimate than ever with my man.  ÒPut your hands to her seat and feel the lusciousness of the warmth that the whip has created there.  Watch your penis!  Do not stab her with it.Ó  Trembling, my Rob grabbed at ElizabethÕs rounded ass.  He gripped her twins cheeks in his big palms and stilled her squirmings.  Captured thus, she could not move.  But her breasts, still free, shook wilfully, as if to make up for the loss of movement in her behind.  Rob rammed his cock into her furrow, letting it jut up betwixt the offered cheeks, the head protruding toward the ceiling like some spear, its tip glistening with pre-cum.  Up and down the spear moved as Rob shafted it between the painfully clenching cheeks of ElizabethÕs ass.  He held her tightly, possessively with his hands.  Mistress slipped forward to where ElizabethÕs boobies jostled, grabbed at her nipples, pinching them.  She was utterly contained.  Nothing could move, save the threshing of her pretty head, its long chestnut locks streaming over her back like rivulets of glossy water.  Back and forth, back and forth her head moved, as Mistress milked her tits with her fingers and RobÕs cock jutted up and down twixt her close-held cheeks.
	I felt angry at my boyfriendÕs lust for Elizabeth.  Not bothering to pick up the belt, I stepped forward and slapped his hard buttocks with my hand.  He clenched them, otherwise he did not relent in any way, his simulated fucking of her ass crack continued unabated.  With a flurry of handspanks I disciplined him as best I could.
	ÒNaughty!  Naughty, bad boy!Ó I cried, tears welling in my eyes.  I felt frustrated, yearning yet unfulfilled, and yet my boyfriend had his manhood wedged in the fanny of another woman!  RobÕs only response was to thrust more eagerly.
	Mistress, with a better view of RobÕs true condition, saw his face grimace and his cockhead shiver uncontrollably.  He could stand no more.  I had brought him to the brink, rather than causing him to desist.  Mistress swept her hand down to the floor and retrieved a bottle of baby oil that had somehow been left there, perhaps by other players.  She squirted a little in the air, to cleanse the tip, and then directed the stream onto the head of RodÕs surging organ.  He watched grim-faced as the slick oil coated his cockhead, sending smasms of uncontrolled pleasure through his loins.
	ÒQuick!  Get it inside her,Ó Mistress commanded him.  With lust-bleared eyes Rob pulled his shaft from ElizabethÕs enclosing cheeks.  He drew back, pointed his arrow, then thrust forward at her little nether hole.  A disciplining spank from me impelled him forward, helping him to do the very thing I wished to prevent.
	ÒAugh!  Ugh! Augh!Ó Rob sounded animalistic as he eagerly raped ElizabethÕs ass, desperate to get himself as deep into her as often as possible before all was lost.  Elizabeth screamed at his rapid entry but then settled into little mewling wimpers.  Rob gained some footage and then withdrew, sank in again, both of them moist from their adventures in the dungeon.  Mistress helpfully placed a finger to ElizabethÕs clit and brought her to the precipice sheÕd sought since she first drew down her panties within the chamberÕs cold unfeeling walls.  Entombed deep into mortar, a catacomb fit only for the dead, Rob spurted his lifegiving sperm up into ElizabethÕs hot, wildly thrashing body.  A ringmistress, our Miss Wentworth helped both of them along, moulding them together, her hand slipping back to impress its fingers into RobÕs ass, whilst her other hand now slipped up to press in on ElizabethÕs soft belly.
	For his part, watching Rob fuck his girlfriend, watching the sluicing motions that were now climaxing, Mark was not inactive.  With every inthrusting drive of Rob up his wifeÕs tender ass, Mark thrust forth his own cock into the air, fucking, though he had nothing but the cool of dungeon to impale.  I turned, watched mesmerized as his tool rent the air.  He looked so precious yet so futile, his cock erect beyond belief, his tight little sac of balls hugely swollen by his unspent sperm, carefully tucked between his legs for its maximum protection.  
	ÒWhatsa matter, little boy?  Did your cock get hard last night and you werenÕt able to get it off?Ó I called to him, teasingly.  He looked at me grim-faced.  He was not a little boy, I knew, but a man, with a manÕs needs.  It was wrong to deny him.  He must be milked nightly at his young age, there was no escaping it.  I hesitated, loving his torture, the rude jabbing of his tool, so huge and terrible, so hopeless.  I was female.  I was not meant to hurt men but to serve them.  My womb scolded me.  My nipples, thorns upon my breasts, offered themselves nurturingly.  I grazed my belly with my fingertips.  It felt empty.
	Leaving my boyfriend to his self-appointed duties, I turned to Mark.  I reached between his thighs and caught his balls and undid the choking cord which held them.
	ÒItÕs time you came too, sir,Ó I breathed.  My words were randy, lusty.  His balls, bloated, fell into my palm.  I squeezed the nuts, he groaned.  I squeezed again.  I was a policewoman searching a suspect, looking for treasure.  ÒDo you wish to spend the family jewels, sir?Ó I asked.  He looked at me, his eyes rolling down with unbridled sexuality.
	ÒMount me, bitch,Ó he ordered, though he was bound to the post and I was utterly free.  Slavelike I did as he asked.  I stood on tiptoe, opened my thighs, grabbed hold of his organ with both hands.  I brought myself forward and pushed him into me.  Gasping, I felt him enter.  Freely I rutted myself on his horn of plenty.  He filled me, impaled me.  I drove myself back and forth on him, savoring each inthrusting stroke.  He split me and I could not stop myself.
	When we had exhausted ourselves in our twin couplings, Rob in Elizabeth and myself upon Mark, each adulterous, Mistress led us out.  She led us down the hall.  We were naked, our clothes left behind, perhaps to be retreived as souveniers by those whoÕd watched us.  We barely glanced at them as we passed, we were absorbed in our own fulfillment still, uncaring of others.  Nude and dripping with our own lust we followed Mistress, herself still swaying randily with unfulfilled needs, prettily contained.  Her hips rolled alluringly, sweetly, my gait was awkward as was ElizabethÕs.  Mark and Rob walked like soldiers just off the battlefield.  Their steps were slurred, as ours were.  Blindly we followed mistress, not caring, not protesting.  She led and we followed like passive, satisfied sheep.
	A shower.  Within a small, tiled room.  Mistress turned on the water and we all bathed together.  At first we just stood, letting the water run over us.  It was warm, nice.  Someone found soap, mistress perhaps, and we began pleasurably scrubbing each other with our bare hands.  We revived ourselves in the spray.  Mistress had to turn it to cold to settle us down at the end.
	We stepped from the shower, dried each other with clean, rough towels.  Mistress took us into an adjacent room.  It too was small.  Its walls were of oak.  There was a little cabinet there, a hairdryer, lipstick, toiletries.  And a potty was in a small alcove.  
	ÒWe shall go swimming, out back in the pool,Ó Mistress said.  She was in charge of our pleasure now, our vacation in its boredom had fallen completely into her hands.  ÒThere will be strangers.  Here, put these on.  You may then undress as you please, or not, depending on what you see.  It will give you modesty anyhow.Ó  She handed us the tiniest of bikinis.  I tried on the bra.  Its cups were useless, covering only little triangles of flesh, leaving the mounds of my boobs largely uncovered.  But I tied the top on anyway.  It was a game, I think.  A game of hide and seek, the private parts version.
	My panties proved no more secure in guaranteeing any portion of my modesty than the bra had.  They were flimsy, easily torn.  They failed to cover all of my bush in front.  They left my bottom cheeks bulging out in back, my ass crack showing much of itself.  Along the sides there was nothing, just slender ties that I made into pretty bows.
	The men fared no better.  Their cocks, hard again, could not be contained by the briefs mistress gave them.  The heads shot up out of the front of their suits.  Below their balls, refilling already, bulged manfully, threatening to burst out between their legs.
	Mistress gave herself a suit no better than ours.  ÒAh well,Ó she sighed.  ÒDo the best you can with them, mine is no better.  Perhaps a different swimsuit supplier will have to be gotten next time.Ó  There was a gleam in her eyes.  I doubted she would change suppliers.  She gave us jelly heels, mine pink, ElizabethÕs yellow.  The men were given flipflops.  We put on sunglasses, visors.  We each took a towel and a bottle of tanning lotion.  Mistress offered me an innertube and the men helped me inflate it.
	Into the bright sunshine we stepped moments later, fresh from the dungeon.  We were in mistressÕ private backyard.  Tall evergreen protected it from prying eyes.  But there were other guests present, swimming, sunning themselves.  Heads turned, some listless, others wide awake.  We were admired as we walked idly to a foursome of chaise lounges.  I looked around at the other guests.  They were mostly young, all handsome.  Some wore bikinis, others nothing.  Reaching the chaise lounges we put down our things, spread out our towels.  
	Mistress lay down in her chaise lounge like a tigress returning to her lair; tawny, supple, ravishinly beautiful.  She retained her sunglasses and visor, but, getting comfy, thrust her bikini panties down to her knees.  She left them there, an invitation perhaps.  Rob, still standing, squirted suntan lotion onto the white band of skin that ran through mistressÕ pussy.  She looked up at him, smiled.  With long-fingered hands she soothed the offered lotion into her skin.  Rob dropped down his shorts and squirted lotion onto his dick.  Then he lay down on his own chaise lounge, offering his organ up to the sun god.
	I lay on my belly.  Reaching down, I yanked down my panties in back, giving everyone a view of my whip-marked bottom.  The lashes were almost gone now, but still I secretly thrilled that someone might see what IÕd suffered for love.  
	Elizabeth, her bottom a much redder hue, opted to sit as carefully down as she could (her ass still stinging), and bare her pussy.  She was too embarrassed to let people see what IÕd done to her.  Perhaps later she would turn over.
	Mark, his cock hard once more and eager, prowled around us a moment, unsure what to do.  Finally, relenting in our choice of peacefulness, he lay down.  But he was restless.  He tossed and turned on his chaise lounge.  He forgot to pull down his swimsuit at first, then tore it off, threw it into some flowers growing nearby.  Daisies, I think.  In his hardness he rolled back and forth on his clean white towel, soiling it perhaps at the waist-level with pre-cum.  I glanced at him.  I smiled.  He looked at me, his head propped up on one arm.  A Playgirl boy, randy and ready.  I stuck my tongue out at him, turned on my side, away from him.  Let him admire my ass for now.  Later perhaps I would play.  Mistress would protect me from his wildness.  
	Secreted from somewhere within her towel, mistress drew forth a little cat oÕ nine tails.  ItÕs cords were made of soft leather, but with little tips that promised a nasty bite should they be struck down hard.  She swished them lightly over her slit, her thighs.  She shot Mark a warning glance.  They could be used much more harshly on his loins, if she chose.  Mark seemed entranced by the toy, yet obeyed nonetheless.  With exposed privates, we girls still in our nothing bras, we offered our tenderest parts up, passersby admiring them as the sun shone brightly down.
	Later I rose and went to the pool.  My panties still thoughtlessly, teasingly at my knees, my bra on, I watched as half-a-dozen girls played volleyball.  The water was not deep, knee-high perhaps, where they played.  Their breasts bounced easily.  Some wore bras that had lost a recent battle with their jouncing mammaries.  The bras ringed their waists, uselessly, or clung higher, the tits free nonetheless.  Other girls had taken their bras off beforehand.  Still other bras floated on the surface of the water, or sank within, parted from the girl whoÕd brought them.  
	I stepped into the pool.  I wished to join them.  I did not touch my bra.  It would not stay on long, I knew, once I got fully into the game.  My jumping and leaping would free my breasts.  I did not care.  It looked fun, I wanted to play volleyball, let my tits be seen if need be.  My panties I took off.  I wanted complete freedom for my legs.  I wanted nothing to bind them, even at the waist.  I left my panties behind, floating.  Sloshing I advanced through the water.  A girl turned, smiled at me.  
	ÒAh, a true althete,Ó she said.  She too wore no panties, though some other girls did.  ÒWe like playing as the ancient Greeks did, nude,Ó she smiled, jokingly.  I smiled back.                
	Upon reaching the girls, I saw that all of them showed marks of having been whipped.  Some had marks across their soft bellies, others upon their breasts.  One girlsÕ back had been sliced up while another had suffered upon the thighs.  Many of them had marks on their bottoms.  The girl closest to me, my fellow Olympian in spirit, had weals on her tushy.  I bent, examined them.  The game paused, waiting for me to join them.
	I traced the girlÕs ridged whip-marks with my fingertips.  ÒOooh, do these hurt?Ó I asked.
	ÒOnly when I move,Ó she smiled.  She seemed proud of her marks, showing them off, as did many of the other girls.  Ranged around us were their boyfriends, or mistresses, the very ones whoÕd marked them up.  I gazed at these strangers, so wicked; they saw my fear of them and smiled.  They wished to have me, I knew.  Would I go?  I would play in front of them, at least, show them my spirit.  It frightened me, yet I knew they could not have me without my own mistressÕ permission.
	We played; the ball flew.  I lost my bra as quickly as I feared I would, leaping to strike the ball back upon our opponents.  Adipose tissue volleyball, it might have been called, given all the asses and tits flying about.  We laughed, we giggled.  When we were done we embraced each other in the lapping waters.  I kissed my newest friend, a girl of 17 whoÕd played beside me.  We were teammates, buddies.  WeÕd won the game together.  The girl with the ridges on her bottom tousled our hair as we kissed each otherÕs mouths, our tongues light, teasing.  SheÕd pointed out her boyfriend to me and IÕd liked him, smiled at him.  He sat watching us with a riding crop in his hand, his cock erect, stroked by a helpful mistress.
	We clambored out of the pool.  Mistress Wentworth was there.  She reached out and took my hand and helped me up.  Lovingly she toweled me off.  She reclaimed me, leading me back to my boyfriend, Elizabeth, Mark.  She sat me down on her chaise lounge.  She sat beside me and stroked my long hair.  Across from us sat Elizabeth, snuggled between Rob and Mark.  Their cocks were fiercely displayed.  They looked like twin Tarzans in the sunlight, their hair wild, wet from lap swimming in the poolÕs deepest parts.  Elizabeth was their treasure, she hoped, a mermaid washed up onto shore between them.  
	Mistress surveyed us all, our healthfulness, sun-browned, our tits still whiter than the rest of our skin, our bottoms rabbit-tails still, for clouds had come, shielding us from the strongest rays as we played in the pool.  Looking at mistress I remembered our exploits in our private dungeon.  I guessed weÕd return there now.  Her gaze seemed to confirm it.  But then she added:
	ÒNow that youÕve been broken in a little you may join other people in their dungeons if you wish.Ó  I felt a shadow drop across me.  I looked up.  It was my newfound friend, 17, her boyfriend, their mistress.  They looked down upon me, wishing me to come with them.  I sought my boyfriendÕs eyes, asked permission.  He considered, nodded.  
	Responding quickly, before I could change my mind, I blew my boyfriend a kiss and rose to my feet.  My hand was swept up by my new friend.
	ÒIÕm Samantha,Ó she whispered, smiling.  Her tummy was marked, lightly.  Otherwise she was unmarked.  Our mistress had deeper-hued lashes across her bottom.  
	ÒIÕm Sally,Ó I breathed.
	ÒThis is Elegina, she takes care of us while weÕre here,Ó Samantha said, pointing to my new mistress.  ÒAnd this is Tom, my boyfriend.Ó
	ÒPleased to meet you, Tom,Ó I said, and reached my hand out.  He took it but, instead of shaking it, put it to his stiff cock.  I gasped.  I looked at him, at Elegina, lastly at Samantha.  I laughed.  Gamely I curled my fingertips around his stiff shaft.  Then I bent, sucked it lightly.  Samantha palmed my bottom, discovered my pussylips.  She made me shiver.
	I rose, my lips wet, pre-cum glistening on them, a thread of it rising with my rising, breaking.  I let go of him.  
	Elegina took one of my hands, Samantha the other.  Together we walked with Tom into the house.  The hallway was refreshingly cool after the hot sun.  My heels spoke softly on the tiled floor.  All else was long gone; my visor, my sunglasses, my bikini.  Only my shoes remained, jelly shoes, easy to wear and comfortable.  They would protect my feet from any nails in the new dungeon, tacks and mice and skittering bugs from medieval ages past.  Yet the rest of me, exposed, would have to fare as best it could.  I hoped my new playmates would be gentle.  I wanted pleasure, not pain.  But I was in a dungeon, not the best place for a girl to avoid punishment.
	Quivering and jittery, I let them lead me inside their private chamber.  Mistress turned, locked the door from inside.  She turned back to me.  All had been elegance so far, soft looks, gentle touchings.  Suddenly she grabbed me by my hair and kissed me.  Her mouth pressed hard to mine, her tongue drove into me like a cock.
	ÒFucking bitch!Ó Mistress snarled at me when she finally let me up for air.  ÒGet down on your knees, girl!Ó she hissed.  I did not resist.  I could not.  They were three, I was but one.  I dropped to my knees, hurting them a little as the kneecaps struck the stone floor.  It was worn smooth by many feet, knees, walking and scuttling across it.  Mine were but one more pair.  MistressÕ eyes softened, her voice still had a sharp edge but I detected a purr in it.  The cat had her canary right where she wanted it.  I looked up at her, them, with wondering eyes.  ÒFor you are our pet, are you not, and all good pets belong down on all fours,Ó mistress smiled.  Her chin jutted out, her teeth were set in a kind of grimace of domination.  She would make me obey, I realized, whether I wanted to or not.  Yet it was still a game, though a wicked one that my mother would no doubt have warned me against.  What games had she played, when she was young?
	Fearfully my eyes turned away from EleginaÕs tall, elegantly powerful figure, her slim hands and arms, legs, smoothly requiring me to do all she asked.  Beside her stood Samantha.  She was a petite blonde, a waif, but with full, womanly breasts.  She leaned forward, patted my head lightly, as if greeting a doggie.  Her swelling bosoms dangled before me, nipples sweetly upturned and offering.  I licked each lightly, impulsively.  
	ÒNo, doggie!  No!Ó Samantha cried, leaping a bit but not lifting her breasts from me, making them shake only, as if secretly pleased by my affection.  Elegina laughed, remarked I must be trained to behave.  I turned, my tongue still hungry, to Tom.  I gazed at the mystery of his balls, hanging like some ripe gourd between his hair-sheathed legs.  He looked full, achingly so.  I wondered who was really slave here, and master.  Had he not been permitted to water any of the femalesÕ cunnies yet?  I extended my tongue, touched it to the very base of his hanging testicles.  Lightly, gently, not wishing to hurt such a bulgingly full sack, I lifted it.  Elegina noted the innocence of my passion with a light, approving run of her fingers through my hair.  She curled a finger in my long blonde locks.  I lifted the balls up, saw with wonder how the testes seemed to bulge out right into my eyes.  Tom parted his legs a little, let me explore him.  Elegina made me more submissive by drawing my arms behind me.  
	I felt fibrous rope, itchy rope, wrapped softly round my wrists.  Elegina bound them firmly, not too tight.  I felt my bosoms in front offer themselves with jutting, fulsome lewdness.  Mommie would not like seeing me without my bra on.  Vengefully I withdrew my tongue from TomÕs sack.  It fell, abruptly, jiggled a little as the testes reached the end of their bungee-like spermatic cords within TomÕs sack.  I ran my tongue along the length of his cock, along his seemingly endless cock-length.  Finally reaching the outthrust head I got my mouth around it like one bites into a full, round apple, feeling his cockhead overwhelm my gaping lips.  Secure in my mouth at last, I sucked upon it.  Tom trembled.  
	ÒShe is leashed,Ó Elegina said of me.  And it was true.  Leashed most uniquely, by my own passion.  Samantha put a hand to TomÕs nuts, squeezed them.
	ÒDo you wish to make a deposit?Ó Samantha teased her boyfriend.  He shivered.
	Elegina slapped my bottom.  Her breasts jiggled somewhere behind me as she hit me with her hand.  ÒShe would like to make a withdrawal, the little robber!Ó Elegina said of me.  I did not loose TomÕs cockhead, despite the sting of her slap.  ÒShe would steal all his sperm away and stuff all she could safely within her tummy, where we could never have it.Ó  She slapped me again.  My cheeks wobbled, I cried out, but I did not let go TomÕs prick.  My mouth held it like a fish is held by the bait and hook of a fishing line.  ÒWe would be reduced to licking her lips, like penitents, hoping for stray unswallowed bits of sticky sperm.  She would be Queen of the Royal Residue.Ó  Elegina grabbed me by the hair, yanked my head back.  Her grip was so forceful that I was forced to give up the precious cock-plum.  TomÕs dick, suddenly released, wiggled freely on the air.  A strand of saliva from my still gaping mouth ran from my lips to his cockhead, claiming possession of him still.  The strand broke at last, leaving only the saliva-wet from my mouth on his cockhead.  
	Mistress lifted up one of my legs.  Awkwardly she lifted it, me still on my knees, throwing me forward.  My face would have hit the floor save for Samantha.  She grabbed me by my neck with both her hands.  She gripped me tight.  I felt like I was being hanged, her hands a noose.  In back my leg was lifted high, exposing my sex, making me look like some poor creature in the marketplace, lifted and separated for the butcherÕs knife.  
	ÒYou must have boots,Ó Mistress said matter-of-factly.  ÒTo protect your toenails.  They are lovely and nicely painted and we would not want to chip or scrape them.Ó  Tom turned, walked to a wall where whips waited.  He gazed at them, studying which might be most suitable, I guessed.  For what I knew not.  Were horses waiting for us, out back?  Or was I the horse?  TomÕs bare arse-cheeks clenched, unclenched.  The hairs in his butt crack seemed to shiver slightly as he tensed and untensed his bottom.  Above his back rose, arched to his shoulders.  Did I see marks there?  I couldnÕt tell.  His legs were like marble columns, holding up the massive weight of the world.  Yet now he chose a small whip, almost dainty, as if made for a girlÕs flesh.  Not the bullwhip whose strong lines might have lashed him in some long-past game, leaving fading marks or scars on his back which I thought I saw now.  He lashed the dainty whip against a cushion.  It seemed to jerk under the blow.  Dust rose up, faintly.
	Mistress pulled off my jelly slipper, threw it away, I knew not where, tossing it aside into the maze of dungeon machinery.  Racks, pillars, all manner of things built to torment tender female flesh, or sunbaked male flesh.  I would confess all, I swore to myself.  
	A boot of soft, but tight leather was put on my foot, worked up my calf.  Tom returned with the whip and set it aside, helped mistress get the boot all the way up to my knee.  He tied it there, in back, to hold it, with a leather jerkin drawstring that was sewn into the bootÕs cuff.
	My booted leg was dropped to the floor.  My knee hit the floor and the soft padding of the bootÕs knee protected it.  My other leg was lifted, cuffed to just above the knee with the bootÕs mate.  Down on my knees again, free of them, with only my wrists tied behind me, I felt good.  I was submissive, though I promised myself I would not be too submissive.  I turned, gazed at them with a look of small defiance.  Tom, taking a lanyard from someplace, knotted it round my neck.  I had my own noose now, with two little ends that hung down from the knot, frayed tassles hanging where they terminated.  They hung to the inner curve of my breasts, where my swelling bosoms began their slumbrous sloping outward thrust.  Elegina reached down.  Her long-nailed fingers touched the tassled ends of my lanyard, lifted them.  She yanked up my neck like some executioner, forcing me to straighten my back lest I be hung right then by her.  My tits wobbled deliciously atop my ribs, offered fruit with my body as the fruit tray.  
	ÒShe is sweet, is she not?Ó Elegina asked.  Tom nodded.
	ÒHave her scrub floors, like you did to me,Ó Samantha giggled.  I sensed her mischief, wondered what she could mean.  Proudly I kept my head up as Elegina continued to hold me, to hang me.  I was beautiful, I knew, specially selected by them for their games.  Yet did I wish to be here?  I could not know.  Proud in my beauty I could not know.  TomÕs cock thrust at me, inviting me, commanding me.  He was assertive right down to his manhood.  Yet he let Elegina run his show.  Or perhaps he and Samantha were both slaves to her.  I could not tell.
	My hands still tied behind me, they made me knee my way across the floor to a faucet.  Elegina led me the first few Òsteps,Ó leading me like an errant dog.  Then she let go and I had to crawl the rest of the way myself, my back strictly erect, my face still proud in my nudity.  Only my bottom, wiggling apprehensively down behind me, gave away my fears.  Indeed it would be the first to suffer if my fears came to pass!  
	A faucet waited, set in the wall.  It stuck out far, like at some old camp, reminding me of TomÕs cock.  The faucet handle had soft cotton bound to it, as if for protection.
	ÒTurn on the water,Ó Mistress commanded.  I jerked as I felt the sting of a whip lace across my outthrust bottom.  My hands were tied!  How could I--?  ÒFill the bucket,Ó Mistress insisted.  She snapped the whip across my fanny and I yelped helplessly, tears coming to my eyes.  Suddenly I guessed!  I must use my mouth in all my tasks, like a dog.
	I bent over, offering my swelling seat to whatever depredations MistressÕ whip chose to favor it with, trembling visibly, mired suddenly in overwhelming fear.  As I gripped a steel bucket with my mouth the whip came to me again, kissing me with fire, anointing my right cheek with its sharp tipped touch.  I held the bucket in my mouth, cried out between my teeth but did not let go.  I dragged it underneath the faucet.  Then, lifting my head, I set my lips to the cotton-shielded handle.  I twisted the faucet handle, my blonde hair hanging down all around me, unattended, sure to bring clucking disapproval from momÕs beautician, who did my hair still despite my engagement.
	Thinking of home, of the regularity of the rituals; school, softball, work, I twisted open the faucet with my mouth.  A gushing of water.  A splattering within the steel bucket.  Then the cool flowing, filling the bucket.  Mistress dumped in some soap suds as I watched the bucket fill.  She turned the tap off for me.  Into the bucket she tossed a sponge.  
	ÒTake it!Ó she commanded.  ÒTake the sponge and wash the floor.Ó  I gazed up at her, shocked.  I would get soap in my mouth, in my loose-hanging hair!  It would run down my chin and over my breasts, my tummy.  ÒHave you not bobbed for apples?  Get the sponge, girl, or IÕll ruin your bottom with this whip!Ó  She brandished it for me.  Helpfully she lashed it over my hiney, once, reminding me of its sting.  I yelped, needed no further encouragement.  
	Hair hanging, most unladylike even for a girl of 19, I leaned over the bucket and put my face into it.  My teeth gabbled for the sponge.  It darted away, I caught it at last.  Bubbles tickled my nose as I rose up, decorated my forehead.  Elegina took the bucket by its handle, lifted it.
	ÒFollow me,Ó she ordered.  Gracefully as she could, for the bucket was heavy, she walked out into the center of the room.  Her bottom cheeks jostled with one another as she walked, jiggling.  In front her boobies bounced.  With a small groan of relief she set down the bucket.  Soapy water sloshed over its rim.  Out to the center of our playpen I followed her, machines looming all around us, waiting quietly.  Knowing that we would scream upon them soon, silent trees in a still forest, forest creaturs scampering nude beneath their ominous ancient boughs.  
	I wanted to go, to unbolt the door and run away, but could not, my hands tied, my knees shuffling in their booted pads across the floor.  In my mouth I held my sponge, my eyes gaping, soap on my face.  Tom watched me approvingly.  His cock, forever hard, twitched.  I glanced at his apple-plum head and wished I could stick it in my mouth in lieu of the sponge.
	ÒWell, get on with it!  Scrub this floor!Ó Mistress ordered me when IÕd reached the bucket, staring up at her, looking for reprieve.  Dutifully I bent over, sloshed the sponge into the bucket, came up.  My bosoms fought against the bucketÕs rim, half in, half out, rose with soapy traces on them.  
	Soap clinging to my hair, I bent and put the sponge to the floor.  How awful I felt!  IÕd never cleaned anything in my life!  WeÕd had servants at home, in L.A., Mexican people, wetbacks who dirtied their hands for us in the soap and bubbles, washing away our spent pleasures.  I flinched, gave a muffled cry within my sponge-filled mouth.  The whip urged me to my labors.
	With vigorous strokes I began washing the floor.  It was immaculate, as I guessed all the rooms were.  They could not have rooms where bodily fluids were spilt unless they cleaned them regularly.  Probably Africans cleaned the rooms here, Tunisians or Ethipians.  European wetbacks from down south.  With my flawless white body I bent low, pampered, spoilt all my life, and scrubbed.  Alas!  My nipples bounced across the floor unprotected.  There was no need for this, no need.  They did it only to glory in my humiliation.  My bottom upturned, rearing, my legs wide displaying my sex as I worked.  I was a pack-horse now, they loved my white rearing body and its supple movements, sponge in my mouth, wrists tied uselessly behind me.  My hair flew in all directions as I scrubbed.  My poor nipples felt the hardness of the floor, remorselessly hard, but worn smooth by the passage of time.  I prayed there were no chinks in the floor, sharp edged, into which my nipples might fall.  They were stiff, hopelessly stiff, I was so hungry down within my sweet tight cleft.  Somewhere behind me Tom, with his ponderous sack, overwhelmed by sperm, shifted his stance, moved.  I knew he wanted me badly, I could not deny I wanted him, would do whatever he asked, even mount the awful machines if he desired it, if he would promise to keep me safe upon them, save for what he wished to torment.  
	I was lost, lost in my lust.  Like an animal I scrubbed the floor.  Rising I dipped my sponge again, wettened it, returned to polish up the stone once more.  The whip licked across my bottom, remindingly, I shivered at its awful touch, kept working.
	Elegina reached down, took me by my hair.  She lifted my head and withdrew the sponge from my mouth.  ÒYou are a good slave,Ó she said.  I glanced at her, saw her fear that Tom might override her plans and fuck me right there upon the floor.  She wished to play yet, to torment me.  She tossed aside the sponge.  Its use was done.  I had proven my worth, my ability to work and perform labors, even degrading labors.  She took me by my tight neck-leash.  She drew me across the floor, I following her soft rolling hips on my knees as she walked before me.  
	Soft towels lay waiting on a wooden bench.  They were neatly folded, by the help, for our private use.  We were at a most exclusive hotel.  Elegina picked up a towel, wiped my face with it.  The bubbles were gone.  She did the same for my breasts, my belly.  Briefly she dipped within my dell, wiping away the bubbles collected there from my scrubbing.  I wished for her to stay.  She did not, lifting the towel and setting it back on the bench.  My cunt was hungry for whatever might soothe it, even the corner of a towel.  
	ÒUp!Ó Mistress commanded, lifting me by my neck-rope.  Tight it was and I stood promptly, obediently.  My boots had tall heels and I regained my feet with an unsteady wobble.  Samantha, coming up behind, took the liberty of steadying me with a hand on my bottom.  She squeezed me there, felt within my cheeks, making me jerk.  I turned round, regarded her with accusing eyes.  Mistress took my chin and turned me to face her once more.  ÒLook only where you are told to,Ó she warned.  She kissed me, full upon the lips.  Her tongue drove into my mouth as SamanthaÕs schoolgirl finger dug into me from behind.  I twisted, yelped.  I could not free myself from the twin indriving prongs.  I cared not for fingers, tongues.  I wanted cock and they knew I wanted it, took pleasure in denying me.
	Elegina released my mouth from hers, held my chin still.  My eyes darted to Tom, standing nearby.  Cock erect, he stroked himself, not wanting to miss a minute of pleasure watching us.  Yet his touch was light.  He knew well he could be inspired to spill at any moment.  He was torn between our spectacle, the pleasure of it, and the desire to free himself of the heavy burden between his legs.
	ÒYou must last all night Tom,Ó Mistress warned him.  ÒDo not lose your load now, we have hours ahead of us.  You must fuck us all.  Do not spill yourself needlessly upon the floor.Ó
	ÒI wonÕt,Ó Tom replied, but his voice was uncertain.  Mistress went to him, batted away his hand.  
	ÒI will tie them behind you if you donÕt quit playing with yourself.  You have three females here, with three holes each.  Multiply that if you can and see how many times you must shoot before youÕre given permission to leave.Ó
	ÒI want to go now,Ó I said.  ÒThere are plenty of cocks outside, at the pool, if I canÕt have that one.  And cunts too, for Tom.Ó  I smiled at him.  We would swim naked together.  He would spear me and take me home with him.  When we got home he would eat me.
	ÒEveryone is safely locked back into their dungeon by now,Ó Mistress grinned at me.  ÒTucked in for a night of pleasure.  You would find yourself alone in the hallway, unloved.  You would have to run next door, naked, to get clothes.Ó
	I gulped.  I looked at Tom.  ÒAlright.  If it will get me away from you,Ó I blurted to Elegina.  She was mean.  She did not let me have what I wanted.
	ÒAh!  You American girls are absolutely spoiled,Ó Elegina snapped.  There was a wicked twinkle in her eyes.  I sensed that I had just unwittingly given her what she wanted.  What sheÕd been waiting for.  Disobedience.  Mouthing off.  She slapped me, relishing the way my face, hair flew sideways.  She slapped me again.  My ears rung.  
	ÒTom, take her to the whipping salon!Ó Elegina ordered.  Tom came up behind me, grabbed me by my arm.  He did not use my leash.  He pulled me back into the rear of the dungeon.  Samantha trotted ahead, still in her jelly heels, her bottom wiggling, breasts bouncing.  She looked like some nude jogger, out for an eye-popping jaunt in the park.  Elegina trailed behind, a whip dangling down her thigh, swishing as she moved her arms, walking.
	To my amazement, there was a curtain at the very back of the dungeon.  I heard voices.  Samantha drew back the curtain.  She walked it back, using her hand to draw it open.  There was no cord to pull it open.  She seemed to me like a nurse, opening the curtain on a patientÕs bed.  There would be no privacy here.
	I gasped.  A collection of well-dressed men and women waited on the other side of the curtain.  They sat chatting, sipping tea.  They were older, some as old as 70, grey haired, distinguished.  We were young, naked.  They looked up, gazed at us politely.  We had been expected.  
	A dais, set between poles, waited, like a cross awaiting Jesus.  Tom made me mount the dais, showing my figure to all who watched.  They drew in their breath, nodded.  Beauty like this was long gone from their company.  
	My hands were freed.  Only for a moment, though.  Samantha on one side, Elegina on the other, lifted my wrists up and fastened them to the wide-spaced posts flanking the dais.  They both had to stand on small step-stools to reach the cuffs, the dais was so tall.  My wrists felt leather cuffs bind them.  Soft, but absolutely unyeilding.  I was spread between the posts, Samson without muscles, only my boobies large.  They wobbled, nipples stiff.  My ribs stuck out below them.  Softly my tummy bulged ever so slightly, flat yet promising to swell if inseminated.  Tom would pump me full.  I would bear his seed proudly, my stomach absolutely swollen with his juice.  I would name my baby after him.
	Yet filling me up was not on the agenda yet.  Elegina wished to demean me still, to humble me.  Proudly I lifted my head.  I would not look down at the guests, I would not.  She took her whip, stroked it.  
	ÒJut out your bottom,Ó she told me.  Samantha pressed my legs apart.  Steel clicked around my ankles.  In my boots I was otherwise exposed, bared in my beauty for all to see.  I wore nothing save my neck-leash and my boots.  My earrings sparkled, nothing more.
	ÒShe should wear nipple rings,Ó a woman suggested.
	ÒPerhaps later,Ó Elegina replied.
	ÒHow sweet it would be to see the chain swinging between her pierced teats,Ó the woman continued, getting a nod from the others.  Fearfully I stuck out my boobs, displaying myself to them yet not wishing to be hurt.  Within my dell a fire burned.  I could not quench it.  
	ÒI will whip you now, honey, take your punishment well and I shall go easy on you afterward,Ó Elegina promised.  ÒStick your bottom out properly for me.  I will whip only it if you obey, nothing more.Ó  Biting my lip I obeyed her.  I tossed my head once, pretended not to care.
	SWIIICK!  The whip struck, biting into my right cheek.  I screamed, in fear as much as pain.  My body thrust forward, my boobs went flying.  WHIIICK!  The whip again, touching up my other cheek, leaving its mark there.  
	ÒDo not make your lip bleed,Ó Elegina said, when my wiggling had subsided.  She eased my teeth off my lip and inserted a broad rubber bit into my mouth.  ÒBite down,Ó she said.  ÒDo not cry out or you will lose it.  If it falls to the floor I will stick it up my bunghole before giving it back to you.Ó  With a stricken look I accepted it.  Samantha bathed my face briefly with a hot towel.
	WHISKSK!  A double salute, landing on both my springy cheeks.  I reared, leapt, my body spread-eagled, captive.  Tears welled in my eyes.  More strokes!  I sobbed, clung to my bit with my teeth.  Yet more strokes, lashing me, flaying me alive, Tom watching all with a hand on his cock, Samantha helpfully bathing my face now and then with a towel.
	ÒDrink,Ó Elegina said.  Removing my bit, she put liquor to my lips.  It was contained in a precious lead crystal glass.  Only the best for me.  She poured it for me, I drank, like a babe drinking from some crystal bottle.  The liquor burned my throat, made me dizzy.  I could not keep up with her pouring.  The liquor ran down my chin.  Samantha wiped away the dribbling droplets.  
	Out beyond an open window, the moon rose.  It was full, a loverÕs moon.  A woman rose, shut the window, left the blinds open.
	ÒIÕm going to take you far,Ó Elegina said.  She replaced my bit.  ÒThis next will be more difficult, harsher.Ó  I gazed at her, my face was worried.  We were playing the most forbidden games of all now.  I wished to speak, to protest, knew I would lose my bit if I did.  It would roll across the floor and Elegina would pick it up and shove it up her ass somehow, then give it back to me, all dirty.  I was caught between a rock and a hard place, to say the least; or, rather, between two posts, which was worse.  ÒYour bottom is young and tender.Ó  She caressed me briefly in behind, making me jerk at the soreness she could already find there.  ÒThey have paid to see your ass broken in, though not broken, I assure you.  We would not want that.  Something must be saved for future games, even if they only take place in your marital bedroom, with your boyfriend.  I promise you I will try not to break the flesh, merely to give it a good one, really thorough.  Something for you to remember us by.Ó  She delved within my cleft, fucked me a moment with her fingers to give me a momentÕs delight.  Then she withdrew, left me hanging by myself, all alone on the dais.  I was model perfect, bold in my nudity.  I did not want to be harmed.  Yet I glanced at Tom, at his manhood.  I wanted him beyond all common sense.  Elegina knew it, too.
	ÒThe liquor should help a little,Ó she assured me.  She was somewhere behind now.  Her hand would no longer provide comfort.  It would inflict pain, to expose my charms in all their bouncing glory to those who watched.
	A man removed his belt.  He handed it to helpful Samantha, who took it eagerly.  He mumbled something, she nodded.  She took the belt to Elegina.  ÒNo, I cannot use the buckle,Ó I heard Elegina say.  ÒShe will bounce well enough with just this end, I assure you.Ó
	And then it was upon me!  Splatting, hard, no mercy now.  I cried out, lost my bit.  I swore as I saw it go flying.
	ÒMost unladylike,Ó a grey-haired woman tutted.  Her friend nodded, sipping tea.
	ÒExtra strokes for that,Ó Elegina assured me.  Samantha ran and fetched the bit.  A man made her bend over, shoved it in her ass crack.  She wiggled, he did not try to get it up her hole.  I hoped she didnÕt have any shit in her furrow from her last poop. 
	Returning to me, Samantha presented me with the bit.  I gazed at it, wide eyed, looking for shit, finding none.  
	ÒTie it in.  This is taking too long,Ó one of the grey-headed women complained.  Elegina strode forward, slapped my bottom with her hand.  She tied the bit on with a nylon stocking that one of the women gave her.  In behind the knotted ends of the stocking hung down my back, making me look like some Indian maiden.  They would fly when the belt struck again.
	ÒThank you,Ó I mouthed within my gag as Elegina tied it on.  I did not want the bit, yet preferred that it be tied if I must have it.  I did not want to eat shit.
	Elegina returned to her place behind me.  She eyed my fanny.  I stuck it out for her.  I did not want to but knew something more awful waited if I didnÕt.  Extra strokes, perhaps, or something worse.  I wanted to get this over with, whatever it was.  The moon rose higher outside, casting moonlight on my bosoms.
	WHACK!  In came the strap.  IÕd never been spanked before today.  My daddy had been indulgent.  His belts hung sterile in his closet, used only to keep his waistline constricted.  HeÕd had a big tummy, hanging out over his belt.  A teddy bear, I liked him.  But I wanted someone stronger, more physical, for myself.  He was mommieÕs boyfriend.  Wriggling in my bonds I felt my boobies wobbling freely.  I rememberd my training bra, bought to shape them correctly, remembered how mommie had always insisted I not leave the house without my bra on.  She didnÕt know about the high school dance where weÕd shed our tops, danced in the moonlight with our boobies swinging as freely as we wished.  WeÕd been Pagans, unbelievers while our Christian parents slumbered, worrying when weÕd be home.
	Now, suddenly, I was as free as IÕd been then, that one night.  Once again I was all exposed, my titties flying, my hair a mess.  I loved it yet I hated it.  Only TomÕs cock kept me compliant.  I stuck out my heinie as best I could, waiting for the strap, not wishing it but loving how it made my titties shake when it hit.  I would ruin them, make them sag from all my naughty dancing.
	WHACK!  WHACK!  WHACK!  The indignity of the whipping continued, butt searing, my cunt on fire, my breasts absolutely uninhibited.  I cried and shrieked and moaned within my gag.  Finally I wept, yet the strapping continued unabated.  
	At last, the moon risen above the height of the window, gone into the clouds, hands came to my wrists.  Lovingly they unbuckled me, let me down.  My boots were left on but released from their iron shackles.  Wobblingly, awkwardly, ungainly as a yearing in my stance and stride I was taken down from the dais.  Tom and Elegina and Samantha all helped me, complimenting me as we walked together back into our private dungeon.  I simpered, cried some more.  Samantha drew the curtain closed.  We threaded through machines, came to a wooden bench.  Elegina unfurled a soft towel and I was laid upon the bench like some Eastern princess.  I saw oils, unguents nearby.  They spread my legs out, dropping my feet to the floor.  Soft hands, coated with warm scented oil, came to my bottom.  
	I gripped the bench.  I bit my lip, no longer in possession of my bit.  It had been removed as they undid my wrists, my ankles.  Biting my lip, trying not to bite to hard yet shocked at their touch, I trembled as they smoothed warm salve over my injured bottom.
	ÒYou did well, very well,Ó Elegina told me.  I shook as she and Samantha tended to me, finding scalded flesh wherever their fingers roamed.  
	ÒNot you, Tom!  You have callouses on your fingers!Ó Samantha snapped in her squeaky, high-pitched voice.  He withdrew, came forward.  Bending low he offered me his cock.
	ÒDo not bite it,Ó he warned.  ÒSuck only.  Suck as hard as you wish, however painful it is, suck harder.  It will help relieve your suffering.Ó  Gladly I popped open my mouth, sparing my lip.  I drew him in, sucked hard upon his plum, kept my teeth off it.
	ÒGood, good,Ó he urged.  He pushed more of himself into me.  I gagged, got hold of him.  He eased in a little more.  I was not an expert at sucking cock.  Only my boyfriendÕs, and then only recently, mostly on our European trip.  It would be an eye-opening experience, heÕd promised me, offering me his cock on our first night.  It had proven to be so.
	Upon the downy softness of the towel I wriggled, my bottom on fire.  Elegina and Samantha soothed me, pouring oil liberally on my heinie, patting it in when I flinched to much for them to stroke it.  Tom, eager to get rid of his seed, began fucking my mouth.  I would not deny him.  I wished to hold him but Elegina, sensing my desire, not wanting Tom to be any more encouraged than he already was, drew my arms behind me.  She crossed them over my back and cuffed them together.  I did not care.  I had TomÕs cock, I would claim his seed for myself with my mouth alone if need be.  Tom seemed more excited by my new captivity and fucked me harder, more vigorously.  He was fast approaching the edge.  He did not want to have to walk back down the sloping side of the wave.  He wanted to ride it, right on top, and go crashing into the shoreline upon it.
	Elegina rose from buckling my hands and walked behind Tom.  She still held the gentlemenÕs belt.  It swung lazily, with quiet confidence.
	ÒTom, I will whip you if you donÕt take your cock out of that girlÕs mouth this instant!Ó Elegina ordered.  
	ÒWhip me, then,Ó Tom replied.  He stuck out his haunches at her, even as he prepared to plunge another cock thrust into me.  In it came, and across his ass came the belt!
	WHACK!  WHACK!  WHACK!  Elegina hit him with the bitterness of a jilted lover, a scorned woman.  Even Samantha, still playing sweetly at my bottom, singing to herself and pouring oils out, looked up.  WHACK!  WHACK!  WHACK!  Tom flinched at each blow, pumped me with abandon.
	ÒYes, make me cum, it feels good,Ó he taunted Elegina in a low, gruff voice.  I had no doubt being spanked by such a beautiful woman did indeed make him all the more eager.  Hair flying, breasts swaying, Elegina gave him his due.  She was absolutely gorgeous, fit to be anybodyÕs runway model, yet here she was bare and sweating, her hair beyond repair, flailing away at TomÕs hard ass.  He grunted, groaned.  I mewed helplessly over his inthrusting dick, nearly gagging now on each deep-plunging stroke.  Samantha mounted me in back and did her best to rub her pussy upon my upturned bottom cheeks, her legs spread wide across them.  I screeched, awash in pain as she rubbed herself with abandon.  I could do nothing.  I was meat, nothing more, a soft hole in front and bulging assflesh in back.  They took their pleasure on me.  
	ÒAughghgh!Ó Tom cried at last, and I lost all hope of breathing as an ingushing torrent of seed filled my throat.  Behind me Samantha bounced cruelly upon my ass, absolutely oblivious to my suffering heinieÕs tender condition.  She gave up trying to use my ass to fuck herself, used it only as a seat as she rubbed herself with both her hands.  Deep in her hungry little cunt she thrust them, mewling with pleasure.  Elegina scolded her, but did not go over to get her off me.  Instead she began rubbing her own puss with her free hand, still whacking Tom with her other.  I was the only one left unpleasured, my pussy on fire and no one feeding it.  Suckingly greedily on TomÕs cock I nonetheless tried with my full mouth to get someone to loose my hands.  It was no use.  Nobody heard me.  Nobody cared.
	Spent at last, released from his sperm-dominated prison, Tom kept fucking me orally until his member gave out.  Then he stepped away, his manhood down at last, tamed.  Elegina finished herself about that time and stood ladylike once more.  She was still a stunning runway model, save for the wetness between her thighs, and her wet fingers.  Tom went behind me, got little Samantha off me.  She was still rubbing herself, trying for yet more orgasms.
	ÒStop her, dear.  Such a naughty girl,Ó Elegina ordered Tom.  He made her cease her rubbings.  Elegina bent over me and loosed my own hands.  ÒRub yourself, honey.  Make yourself come for us like I know you want to,Ó she told me.  With glorious abandon I arched my hips, lifting my bottom briefly, and got my hands underneath me.  Then I settled vigorously down on the soft, downy towel and began to masturbate.  With no thought at all of how immoral it was, still feeling the awful stinging in my bottom, my mouth overflowing with TomÕs sperm, I rubbed away.  My first orgasm came quickly and I screamed through three more.  The others stood laughing, watching me, enjoying my selfish spectacle.
	Elegina unlocked our dungeon.  We walked out and she led us to a kitchen.  Others were there, snacking and enjoying the afterglow of their own orgasmic ordeals.  Fresh from our spendings we came, unwashed, unkempt.  Nobody minded.  They gazed with approval at our flushed bodies, our bright cheeks, the wetness of our cunts.  TomÕs cock dripped sperm, still huge but somewhat deflated now.  We were offered crackers, fruit.  We ate happily.  It was warm in the kitchen.  A fire flickered nearby.  A girl, standing with her back to it, warmed her bottom.  My own was admired, the marks traced with inquisitive fingers that made me flinch and gasp.  I could not wear panties, I hurt too much.  Yet to walk bare insured that some admirer would touch me there, stroke me where I could not even bear the feel of silken undies.  I mangaged as best I could, though every now and then some pleasant conversation IÕd just gotten into would be interrupted.  IÕd jerk, theyÕd laugh.  I was their pet still.  
	ÒWho else do you like?Ó A girl asked me, muching a crouton.  She held it delicately poised between her fingers.
	ÒI do not know,Ó I replied.
	ÒDonÕt fear, there is plenty of KY oil and such here,Ó she said.  ÒYou can fuck all night.  Pick someone, anyone, and let him show you his stuff.Ó  She smiled at me, wantonly, luringly.  I glanced around at all the men.  A few were stiff again, I decided to select amongst those.  I did not want to wait.  ÒHe is nice,Ó my companion said, following my gaze.  ÒYou are very pretty.  He will not deny you.  Hurry before some other female claims him.Ó
	I felt strangely shy, despite my absolute nudity, my degraded condition.  We were all immoral here.  Yet there was a beauty in our mussed hair, our hot bodies, slick with our moisture.  There was a redhead talking to my intended beau.  Her curls bounced as she spoke.  She wiggled before him like a saleslady intent on selling something.  
	ÒCome,Ó my new girlfriend, unnamed, ordered me.  She took me by the elbow and drew me over to him.  His eyes turned, widened with pleasure.  Every man thinks he can entertain as many females as he sees.  My companion elbowed his dream date out of the way, the redhead, and presented me instead.  I could tell he thought me even better than she.  The redhead saw it too and let an inquiring man draw her attention away.  I did not wish to rob her yet, war was war.
	ÒShe wants you to fuck her,Ó my newfound girlfriend said to him.  I did not know his name.  I only knew the size of his cock.  It was nice.  Long and hard and thick.  Everything a girl could want.  His name did not matter.  My girlfriend reached between his legs, sparing him nothing.  She felt his balls.  ÒGood,Ó she said, her voice complimentary.  ÒYou are full.  Get on with it, man.  Give this girl the fucking she so richly deserves.Ó
	ÒWhat glorious sluts!Ó our suitor exclaimed.
	ÒNot yet,Ó my companion replied.  ÒBut we will be when youÕre through with us, wonÕt we?Ó
	ÒOf course,Ó he said.  He turned us both about and took us each by the arm.  Walking in close step with him we proceeded out of the kitchen.  On our way out my girlfriend reached, grabbed some KY for both of us.  It sat on the counter, available for all who needed it.  I knew not how long we would be at this new game, nor did she.  
	ÒThere are mattresses down here,Ó our boyfriend said, leading us to a room along the hall.  He swung open the door.  Inside in dim light, softly lit by candles, was a room with mattresses end to end on the floor.  There was nothing else.  Soft moans, grunts came to our ears.  A couple was near the back, fucking passionately.  They looked up.
	ÒYou do not mind?Ó our host asked them.
	ÒNo, not at all,Ó they replied, barely missing a stroke in their fucking.
	ÒCome,Ó our host answered, leading us forward onto the makeshift bed.  We stumbled onto the springy surface with him, quickly got down on our knees.  Delilah, as I thought of her, though I knew not her name, arched her back and brushed back her hair, the very picture of feminine efficiency.  Then she took the KY tube sheÕd brought and opened it.  
	ÒGive me your cock, dear, we girls are not as wet as when you first arrived,Ó Delilah said to him who I now named Samson.  He presented his organ, thrusting it at her, eager to get on with his pleasure inside us.  The perfect tease, she stroked him first, told him to settle down.
	ÒWe are ladies, dear boy.  DonÕt just stick your penis out at me,Ó Delilah scolded.
	ÒI thought thatÕs what you wanted!Ó Samson protested.
	ÒOh, alright.  WeÕll dispense with introductions,Ó I suppose, Delilah answered, hoping I guessed to be asked her name at least.  Samson the Uncaring stuck his cock forward, all business, or rather; all pleasure.  Pleasure was business in this case, and he was ready to get off.  Delilah soothed some jelly onto his dick to make it slick.  Satisfied, he turned to me.
	ÒYou first,Ó he said.  
	ÒHow do you want me?Ó I asked, kneeling as chastely as Delilah, ready for all one might think to play cards or something.
	ÒI want to go as deep as I can,Ó he replied tersely.  I looked at him.  I was unlearned.  
	ÒTurn around, dear, show him your bottom.  Get on all fours and do it,Ó Delilah told me.  She was ever so helpful in these matters.
	ÒDonÕt I get a kiss or something?Ó I asked.
	ÒYou get fucked, just like you asked,Ó he replied.  ÒNo flowers, no expensive dinners, and no fucking dancing.  Get on your knees and show me your ass.Ó  His tone was gruff.  I shivered, turned around.  Once again I had let myself in for something that now I could not escape.  Helpfully Delilah turned me about, kissed me once on the cheek, bent me down until my face touched the mattress and my ass reared high.  ÒYou have a great ass,Ó Samson told me.
	ÒThankyou,Ó I mumbled in reply, salvia in the corner of my mouth.  He prised me apart in back as Delilah stroked my hair.  I felt open, terribly open, my anus gaping at the air, my cuntlips wide.  Suddenly he was at my pussy, thrusting himself in, fighting my tightness.  I was virginal still, though my boyfriend had done me.  He thrust into my clamping wetness and warmth.  I felt him driving in.  Delilah consoled me as his thing rammed up me, right up to my uterus.  He adjusted his position, resettling his knees on the mattress.  His organ was up me and squeezed within me.  He wanted to get himself just right, based on how IÕd received him.  Satisfied, he began to stroke within me.  His organ drew back, thrust up again.  I heaved on the mattress to help him.  He shoved, I bucked.  Again and again we matched each other, fighting almost, fighting for our mutual pleasure upon each otherÕs bodies.  Quietly Delilah brushed my long locks with her fingers, toying with her free hand down at her cunny, pleasuring her little clitty with her long-nailed fingers.
	ÒThatÕs it, dear, you are doing very well,Ó Delilah told me.  ÒYou will be a Grand Slut when you are through with Tarzan here.  Do not hold back, sir, fuck her and spend in her like the He-Man you are, otherwise we will tell all the girls you are a wimp.Ó  I was getting rammed quite ferociously by now, and needed not any encouragement she sought to give him, getting all his provoked anger thrust right up to my womb.  He porked like an animal.  I felt overwhelmed.  Lustily I managed to find my clitty, shower my fingertips over it.  I bucked, he met me.  He overpowered my rearings and dominated me.  ÒHold yourself, do not come to soon,Ó Delilah admonished him.  I wished sheÕd shut up for I was getting pummelled by the guy.  Over the brink of orgasm I washed, though he did not meet me on the other side.  He kept furiously pumping me, until I rose again to meet him, this time he was overcome by my clenchings.  His seed erupted within me.  With volcanic fury he fucked me.  I was but a child beneath, raped, molested, though indeed my own fingers were doing the molesting.  At last, spent, he got off me.  I collapsed onto my tummy.  Delilah rolled me over and mounted me.  She squirmed atop me, butch-like, driving her tongue into my mouth.  Samson, finished, got up and walked out.  I cared not.  Neither did she.  I let her introduce me to lesbianism then, wriggling beneath her as she found me and fingered me to new highs.  Beyond, the other couple found new inspiration watching us, and renewed their passion.
	Mistress Wentworth came into the room.  Looking up at her, I lay in DelilahÕs arms.  I smiled.  Mistress Wentworth bent down, offered us drinks.  We accepted, laughed.  It was morning.  IÕd wrestled all night with Delilah, the only name I still had for her.  Casually we lay together.  I did not want to sit up, nor did she.  I poured my drink into her mouth, hitting her face, moving my hand Ôtil I got the fluid between her lips.  She did the same for me, messily.  I rolled atop her and we kissed once more.  Mistress Wentworth offered drinks to our friends.  They accepted, poured them on each otherÕs privates.  The sting of the liquor revived them, lifting the manÕs penis into the air, making his girlfriend ready.  Mistress left, they invited us over.  We got up, joined them.  We shared mouths, bosoms, bottoms, the manÕs cock.  There was no selfishness, only pleasure.  I came and came.  Always there seemed to be a tongue invading my cunny.  The man was at ease in his hardness and speared us all, teasingly, finally loosing himself in his girlfriend.  
	I got up.  The man was sperming his girlfriend with the final thrusts.  Delilah wished to stay with them.  I was done, wanted to shower, find my boyfriend, Mark, Elizabeth.  Delilah looked as if she wanted a kiss but I gave her just a little wave instead, cupping my hand.  
	ÒBye, bye,Ó I said.  She mouthed a goodbye in reply, not wishing to disturb the couple.  Their eyes lidded, they shuddered down from an orgasmic peak.  I turned, walked away.  We had shared all, not knowing even what our names were.  I felt bouncy, happy, yet I wished to regain some sense of decency somehow, now that IÕd had my fun.  
	I found Mistress Wentworth in the hall.  She was just hanging a sign on a door.  It read:  ÒGirls Only.Ó  She looked up at me.  She smiled.
	ÒIf youÕre looking to wash up you can come in here,Ó she offered.  ÒNo men will bother you in here.  With a new day the rules return.  Girls must be allowed their privacy, if they wish it.Ó
	ÒThank you,Ó I replied.  There was relief in my voice.  IÕd had enough cock, thank you, didnÕt need soapy male hands helping me with my shower.  Let alone cocks that wanted to scrup my ÔbackÕ.
	I washed up with several other girls, each doing the othersÕ inaccessible places, but for convenience only.  We stood in a shower room, a gang shower.  I dried myself afterward and found several pairs of denim shorts and cotton t-shirts on a bench.  
	ÒClothes,Ó a girl told me.  ÒFree.  In case you lost yours.Ó
	ÒI did,Ó I replied with a guilty smile.  She and I dressed ourselves.  There were slippers stacked neatly in a corner, rubber ones, open-toed, for shoes.
	With my flip-flops slapping, I left the house.  I turned once, saw Mistress Wentworth in the open doorway, letting out another girl.  She waved goodbye, I waved back.  Mark and Elizabeth and Rob stood waiting on the sidewalk.  Modestly theyÕd congregated under a tree.  The shade made them less visible.  They each wore Mistress WentworthÕs all-purpose free clothing.  There was no distinction between male and female.  Each had tight denim shorts on and a skimpy tee.  I trotted down to them, wondering how fat people were accomodated in Mistress WentworthÕs dungeon, with my own free shorts riding high up on my asscheeks.  The answer, of course, was that they only ever found a modest house in a modest neighborhood, and a friendly lady at the door who told them she had no idea about any Ôdungeons.Õ  
	ÒHi!Ó I greeted my friends.  The men, I saw, had somewhat longer denim shorts than Elizabeth and I.  But they were still tight.  Their crotches bulged in a manner that would have been considered a Ôcome onÕ in the Tenderloin.  Elizabeth kissed me.  I kissed her back, kissed Mark, finally my own Rob.
	ÒI hope the cab comes soon,Ó Rob breathed when we finally broke our embrace.
	ÒMe too,Ó I said.  Desipe the soreness of my bottom I knew weÕd both be going straight to bed the minute we got back to our hotel.  I glanced over at Elizabeth and Mark.
	ÒI think we can save on room rentals from now on,Ó Elizabeth smiled.  There was a blush in her cheeks.
	ÒMe too,Ó I smiled.  

----------------------- Dreamgirls! -----------------------
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