ÒYou are not going to hide that lovely whipping you got,Ó Cybil replied. ÒA good girl always shows off a good whipping. It wonÕt last long. Enjoy the admiration of your fellow guests while you can.Ó She turned to me. Her eyes met mine. ÒIt certainly hurt enough getting it, didnÕt it?Ó
ÒI should say so!Ó I replied. My hands flew to my ass on a sudden impulse and I rubbed it. My titties wiggled.
ÒThink of all those silly girls who get their bottoms tattooed,Ó Cybil said. ÒAnd then theyÕre stuck with the thing for life. ÔDebbie loves Robert.Õ You enjoyed more pain, yet in a little while your fanny will be as white and smooth as it ever was. I wish all girls were as bright as you about such things.
ÒI didnÕt exactly choose it,Ó I replied, hopefully.
ÒWere you ever naughty, just so your daddy would spank you?Ó she asked. Her knees were apart. Indecently, I thought. Spread for someone to enjoy himself between them. I saw she wore panties, though.
ÒOnce or twice I might have been,Ó I answered. Why not tell the truth for once, even to myself? ÒIt was fun getting Daddy all steamed up. Knowing heÕd soon tear his attention completely away from my mom, if I kept up my antics. And sure enough...Ó
ÒSure enough, youÕd go to bed red-bottomed, and be proud of yourself, wouldnÕt you?Ó she asked.
ÒSo itÕs all my fatherÕs fault?Ó I asked. My eyes were wide. My hands massaged my still-aching tushy.
ÒEverything is menÕs fault, nowadays,Ó Cybil grinned at me. ÒGet a clue.Ó
ÒDinner!!!!!Ó I heard beyond the door. There was a clanging of a bell, childlike.
ÒYou wouldnÕt,Ó I said. I gripped my cheeks, despite the pain. I did not want that little rugrat to see my condition again.
ÒA little humiliation is good for the soul,Ó Cybil answered. ÒCome, itÕs warm out. You havenÕt need of clothes. Besides, youÕll look sweet at breakfast, eating your cereal with your tits swinging above your bowl.Ó
ÒI donÕt want to,Ó I said, but it was no use. Cybil was at my arm, escorting me. I came down the stairs less dress than IÕd ascended them the night before.
We went to the kitchen. ÒOh!Ó Becky turned, saw us. She was standing on a chair, mixing something awful-looking in a bowl. ÒAre you going swimming naked?Ó she asked. She wore a swimsuit herself, wet, no top, just the panties. I saw that her nipples were fuller than ever, little mounds. Had someone stolen into her room and sucked on them during the night?
ÒYes, she might swim naked later,Ó Cybil answered, all propriety. ÒHere, dear, sit.Ó She went to the breakfast table and pulled out a chair. ÒThere is a cushion for you.Ó I looked down. A plump pillow lay upon the chairseat. Under it the chair was woven fiber.
ÒOkay,Ó I said, relenting. In nothing but the heels IÕd slipped to in the bedroom, I sat down. I still had my shoes, at least. ThatÕs all a girl apparently needed around here. At least if she were a new girl, I mused.
Cybil sat down across the corner from me. Table-mates, we were, with a little swimsuited, half-naked nine-year-old mermaid as our waitress.
ÒIÕd really prefer lunch,Ó I said.
ÒI thought you would,Ó Cybil smiled. ÒI think I got cancer from the bacon this morning.Ó
ÒI didnÕt burn it THAT badly, mommie,Ó Betsy answered. She seemed crestfallen.
ÒOf course you didnÕt dear. Get the sandwiches out of the fridge that the deli man brought.Ó
ÒHe was nice,Ó Betsy said. ÒHe rubbed me to make me feel real good inside.Ó
ÒOh, God!Ó Cybil said. She dropped her face into her hands. ÒThatÕs the third deli guy this week! Is she too pretty, or what?Ó
ÒShe is pretty,Ó I answered, considering. Betsy came to us, her face radiant, her long hair flowing out behind her. I realized suddenly that she was a junior version of myself. Her belly bulged out at me as she carefully laid a sandwich down for me upon the table. She had an innie. I had an innie. I wondered if Cybil had an innie or an outie.
ÒThere you go!Ó Betsy cried. She was happy. ÒIÕve got to get the sharks out of the pool now, bye!Ó
ÒWait!Ó Cybil called after her. ÒI should see whether the sharks are real or not,Ó she said to me.
ÒHmmm?Ó I asked. I picked up my sandwich, bit into it. A club, with bacon (unburnt), lettuce, tomatoes... The deli man made good sandwiches, even if he was a bit forward with the help.
ÒThe other day, a man was swimming around just underneath the surface,Ó Cybil sighed. ÒHe had his cock sticking up. Told Betsy he was a shark, and that was his fin.Ó
ÒDum dum dum dum dum dum,Ó I smiled.
ÒA nice guy, great build,Ó Cybil sighed. ÒShould I just give up, or what?Ó
ÒDid you ever even try?Ó I asked.
ÒI canÕt help it,Ó she said. ÒI make great money doing this. Sure, last night was just us, no charging anybody, but I thought you needed it. Or I just got carried away. Sometimes its fun not to charge.Ó
ÒI think Betsy knows how to keep the men in line,Ó I mused. I remembered my own childhood. Nine-years-old, dashing around the neighborhood. Not always with the purest of intentions, either. Spin the bottle was popular that year. And that pointing bottle neck, well, it made a girl think of other things. Things that also pointed, but were made of fleshier stuff.
ÒAs long as she doesnÕt try to ride the sharkÕs fin, right?Ó Cybil asked me.
ÒRight,Ó I replied. I moved uncomfortably on my pillow. ÒEspecially with her bottom.Ó
ÒWell, dear, youÕre older,Ó Cybil smiled wickedly. She had mischief in her eyes. We heard a scream from the pool. I judged it, guessed it playful. Cybil, inured already to such cries, ignored it. Nine-year-olds were happiest when they were screaming, and they loved doing it, I remembered. ÒDo you think you might like to ride a sharkÕs fin?Ó
ÒUmmm,Ó I answered. I honestly did not know what to say. I munched quietly on my sandwich.Ó
ÒAll girls must eventually, you know,Ó Cybil said. I knew she would just love to see me bent over, grunting, goggle-eyed, a man thrusting himself up me, breaking forever into my virginity. After all, she wasnÕt virgin anymore, was she? She had made the passage.
ÒTime enough for love,Ó I replied.
ÒWhoÕs talking about love?Ó she said in a low whisper.
ÒOh, I canÕt stand you!Ó I cried. I jumped up. My chair fell back. My pillow fell off the upturned seat.
ÒIt would be best to do it while your bottomÕs still warm,Ó Cybil cooed to me.
I turned. I stomped out of the room. My titties bounced on my chest as I walked. I was aware of their lewdness. My bottom rolled, felt wanton, brazen.
I went into the parlor. There was a big beanbag chair in the middle, for Becky to play in. I flopped down into it. Inevitably my legs opened wide. I did not bother to close them. My cunt, my thatch showed. My breasts lolled heavily on my chest. Adipose tissue. Wobbling, quivering. The nipples stiff. I felt a sense of abandon. My long hair streamed down alongside my face. My lips were parted.
ÒWell, the very picture of ladyhood,Ó Cybil said. She sauntered up to me, following me. ÒShall I get you a cucumber, miss?Ó
ÒNo,Ó I replied, sulky.
ÒAnswer the door for me if it rings,Ó she said. ÒCan you do that, at least? I have to go downtown.Ó
ÒWho watches for you when IÕm not here?Ó
ÒWhy, some other girl, of course. But today youÕre around, so you can do it, hmmm?Ó
ÒOh, alright,Ó I answered.
ÒTry to look presentable if its somebody on business,Ó Cybil told me.
I laughed. ÒDonÕt they want to see something like this?Ó I pressed my knees farther apart. I arched my pussy at her.
ÒDonÕt be crass, dear,Ó she answered. ÒSomeone on regular business. You know, like the deli man.Ó
ÒOh, of course. IÕd be too old for him,Ó I said.
ÒNot that, I mean, well, you KNOW what I mean, donÕt you? Someone who has to check the water meter, or whatever. Or deliver something.Ó
ÒCucumbers?Ó I asked. I still lay with my legs indescribably wide.
ÒYou are too naughty,Ó she replied. There was a smile on her lips. She turned and left then. SheÕd had enough of me, for now.
I dozed. I heard her go out a little later. I did not hear much. An occasional scream from the pool, giddy. Perhaps Becky had found another shark to scare her. I guessed the dungeon was locked. Well, they would have to wait for Cybil. I wasnÕt going to check up on them, whoever was in there, that was for sure. I listened and heard creaking sounds upstairs. Somebody was doing it. Somebody was always doing it here. Did I want to join them? No... I might quickly wind up with the creaking being made by me, by somebody I didnÕt fancy.
And where was Alex? I felt like leaping up then, but a lethargy had possessed me. I was still sleepy from last nightÕs late night party. I drew my arms around my ribs. I felt their smallness, the flesh drawn smooth-tight over them. The undersides of my boobies rested with weighty significance on my indrawn arms. My period was still two weeks away. Lucky me. I still had plenty of time to play. I was like Becky. I didnÕt need anything. No clothes, just a snack now and then. I could dance around out back by the pool, if I wished. And then I felt a quiet, gentle yearning. I wasnÕt quite like Becky, was I? No, not quite. I needed cucumbers.
There was a ringing sound. The doorbell! I jumped up. I realized I was naked. Quite naked, in fact, unless you counted shoes. I glanced about. I ran into the hall. I spied folded laundry in the T.V. room. I rushed in. The T.V. was off. It wasnÕt time for Bugs Bonker yet. Atop the pile there was a little undershirt. It was tiny, sleeveless. I struggled into it. The neck was scooped out, with only frilly delicate straps going over my shoulders. The tight shirt hugged my breasts. I looked down and saw the shirt was too short to cover my navel. Oh well, it would have to do. CybilÕs customers paid well. I didnÕt want her to lose the account. She might have to cut back on cucumbers.
Titties bulging, my flaring hips as bare as my twat and my bottom, I strode with all the elegance I could manage to the front door. I must admit I felt a certain wickedness doing it. Wait till I turned around! They would find out what went on here, that was for sure, when they saw my ass. With delicate fingertips I unbolted the door, edged it open. I peeked out. A drop-dead hunk waited there, with two women. One looked wifely, the other submissive.
ÒMay I help you?Ó I asked. I brushed a strand of hair from my eyes.
ÒWe have come....Ó
ÒTo...Ó I paused. ÒCum?Ó I licked my lips. I wanted to tempt him.
ÒYes,Ó he replied, smiling. I beckoned and eased back the door. They stepped within. The girl looked startled at my nakedness. The man merely smiled, as if he had guessed such a treat might await him here. The woman seemed unmoved.
ÒYou have to sign in first,Ó I said, trying to act as best I could like the proprietress. ÒAnd, um, there is a charge card thingy around here someplace.Ó Trying to keep my hair back from my eyes I glanced around the room, looked into drawers. ÒOh, yes! Here it is,Ó I said. I found a big American Express charge plate in one of the drawers. I got it out. The woman handed me a card. I looked at it. She was paying. Too bad. The dreamboat was obviously going to be kept busy tonight. I felt a little freer though, knowing I could tease without consequences. I looked at him.
ÒYes, this will do. Is the lady paying, sir?Ó he gulped. The woman looked a bit peeved.
ÒJust run the damn thing,Ó she said. I saw the girl was wiggling, as if unsure should remain. The man gripped her arm firmly. The woman stood opposite, her hand firmly pressed into the small of the girlÕs back. She wasnÕt going anywhere without them, I could see. In fact, I guessed she was going straight to bed. Or someplace worse...
I couldnÕt get the charge plate to move. ÒAllow me,Ó the man said. He let go of the girl. She quietened a bit, then. I saw she was just being wilful. She did not try to run away. The man pushed the plate over the card and then gave it back to the lady. I had her sign the slip.
ÒThis way, please,Ó I said, turning. We walked down a hall. I let them admire my rolling derriere, so newly scored with lines, fading now a bit, but still quite visible. The girl seemed to watch my rear cleavage with a kind of morbid fascination. I showed them the yard in back, pointed out the pool.
ÒJust a room, please,Ó the woman said, as if certain that I was just trying to tempt her man, steal him away.
I led them up the back stairs. My bottom moved its big, fleshy round cheeks as I mounted each step. I savored my whipmarks now, how they shocked, aroused. I moved with a kind of sweet slowness. I savored each mooning step of the stairs. My cunny felt moist.
Down a second hall we went. I opened a bedroom door at random, found it was empty. Someone had made it up for the next guest. Well, here they were.
ÒWill this do?Ó I asked, turning. The man entered, the girl, the woman.
ÒAnything with a bed,Ó the woman replied. ÒAnd amenities...Ó
ÒAll in the armoire,Ó I replied. Which was true. Condoms, towels, washcloths, whips.
ÒVery well,Ó she said. She saw the room key on the dresser and picked it up herself. ÒIs there room service?Ó
ÒIÕm the room service,Ó I replied, with a meaningful glance at the man. He gazed back at me with his dark eyes. He was tall, broad-shouldered.
ÒWe may order some later,Ó the woman said. ÒThank you.Ó Her eyes bade me to leave. I turned, wanting to stay. I flounced out. He at least would see what he was missing. Quickly the woman closed the door behind me when IÕd made my exit. Dolefully I walked back down the hall. I thought of checking in on Alex, Kali, but I didnÕt know which room they had. Feeling a bit empty somehow, I walked bare-legged back down the stairs. I decided to keep the shirt on. I returned to the parlor and flopped down again in the beanbag chair. I closed my eyes. In a minute I was asleep, not knowing, still exhausted from the day before. I would wait for the deli man.
***
Several days passed. I played at giving room service. I got to serve the dreamboat and his ladies breakfast. They let me get in bed with them. I sucked the man. He had awakened with a big tent pole. I helped him keep it nice and stiff. The woman wanted to whip me. I left before she could.
I found Kali and Alex. He was tied up, his cock and balls held by a little pouch and teased with a soft leather teasewhip. She danced the tails over his awesome genitals. He begged her for release. I didnÕt dare try blowing him. He would have cum instantly. I left them to their games. I did not wish to see a male so abject, so desperate.
I served others also. I brought what they asked, stayed a bit sometimes, but never quite allowed myself to fuck. Just a kiss here, a quick blow, something fun and easy. I wanted to screw, I guess, but couldnÕt allow myself to. I was scared, maybe. I was only 15. I was Betsy with breasts.
My marks went away. I had a flawless ass again. I played with Becky in the pool. And thatÕs where I met my next mistress. Funny, isnÕt it? I always shrank away from engaging a man directly. I mean, I might give him a little suck, but then IÕd flit away. It was as if I needed a firm hand to guide me. It could be a manÕs hand, I guess, but the men were always so nice, so concerned for my age, perhaps. They didnÕt want to rob me of my so-called innocence. My so-called innocent life. But a woman wouldnÕt hesitate to. There is always a little jealousy between women. If she is roadtested, her thinking goes, why arenÕt I? At first, when youÕre just a little girl, they persist in keeping you innocent. Then you get older, you grow breasts, your bottom fills out, your long legs stand in sharper contrast to your other assets. And suddenly the other, older women of the world say to themselves, I think, ÒOkay, cunt. You want to compete with me? Alright. We shall both be sexy, then. I will let you into the world of adults. In fact, IÕll help you, so you arenÕt just Ôlegging around,Õ showing off to any man you please. And they bring you into society. They make you a debutante. They hold proms for you, coming out balls. And then youÕre in their world. Their hope, I guess, is to marry you off to someone, to get you to join Concerned Women for America. Yes, it neutralizes you. You start to worry about whether Tide or Wisk gets your clothes whiter. Should I use liquid detergent, or powdered?
I lay face down on a chaise lounge, my chin in my hands, my legs bent up, kicking lazily at the sky. I was reading Cosmopolitan. Something about 101 ways to Bed a Man. I had on a little pair of bikini panties. My bra was lying on the cement.
She sat down beside me. I ignored her a moment, then looked up. She had raven-black hair, like Cybil. Gypsy eyes. She looked about 30, looked as if she could read my palm and tell me my fortune. Her bust was impressive. I imagined her at my age, wowing the men with her overgrown breasts as she walked off to school. She was dressed in chic business attire. A small coat, upturned collar. Her blouse had to struggle to contain her bosoms. It was tight, perhaps purposely a size too small. She wore pants that tucked into knee-high leather boots.
Running a hand through her deliciously curly hair she said, ÒHi, IÕm Laurie.Ó
ÒHi,Ó I replied. There was almost a lisp in my voice, submissive. I felt naked before this woman. Well, I was naked, almost, but, I mean... I could not express it. Her eyes burned into me. I knew she had cucumbers somewhere, lots of them, attached to dreamboat men. ÒIÕm Melody,Ó I answered.
For a moment neither of us said anything. We just gazed. My eyes drifted to her bosoms. You could hardly ignore them, so the were so fascinatingly big. Her own eyes absorbed the sweet hanging of my tits. She watched as my nipples stiffened.
Cybil appeared. ÒHi!Ó she said brightly. ÒMelody, this is Laurie.Ó
ÒWeÕve already introduced,Ó Laurie replied. I nodded, smiled. I wiggled my tushy. My panties barely contained the cheeks.
ÒSheÕs a world famous dominatrix, IÕll have you know,Ó Cybil told me. ÒSo donÕt cross her, okay?Ó She smiled. I shivered, nodded.
ÒShe hasnÕt told me to do anything yet,Ó I replied. My face blushed. I looked guilty.
ÒWould you like me to?Ó she asked.
ÒWould you like to?Ó I answered.
ÒItÕs not nice to answer a question with a question,Ó she said.
ÒLaurie runs a big fashion magazine in Paris,Ó Cybil chimed in. ÒA French version of GQ.Ó
ÒThat sounds cool,Ó I replied.
ÒPut your shoes on,Ó Laurie said.
ÒShe keeps her men in line, I can assure you,Ó Cybil said, winking at Laurie.
ÒAnd how are things here? Do you have any discipline problems?Ó Laurie asked Cybil. She turned from me. I sat up. I dropped my feet to the pavement. I slipped them into my heels. My mules were my sole companions. Nothing else belonged to me, except my body. Did I wish to lose that too? I flicked the waistband of my panties open, let it snap shut against my skin. This was a loaned bikini. From Cybil. Other than that I had just my shoes. I bent and wrapped the little ankle straps around my ankles, buckled them closed. My breasts swung as I worked.
I sat up. My breasts bounced like jello on my chest, subsided. Laurie turned to me. She stood. ÒI need you,Ó she said, and reached out her hand, took mine. In her eyes I saw magazine covers, layouts, cameramen with cameras and me posing for them, a GQ guy on my arm.
I stepped forward. I bent to get my bra from the walk.
ÒNever mind that,Ó she said.
She pulled me. I turned to Cybil, hapless. She smiled. ÒHave fun!Ó she urged.
Tits bouncing, leggy and awkward, I let Laurie lead me across the well-clipped lawn.
ÒDo you need me for a model?Ó I asked.
ÒOf course, dear,Ó she said, half turning, smug. ÒBut not nude modeling. So we can play, too.Ó I wondered at her words. So we can play... Did she mean? We reached the house. She took me inside, down the hall, around a corner. We exited through the front door. Down the front walk we went, me all naked, save for my swim panties. I put my arm up, tried to hide my jostling tits. A limo waited out front. Had it been there since sheÕd arrived? The engine was running. We got in.
Laurie poured me a drink in the back seat of the limo. I sat on the leather bench beside her, comfortable in my new surroundings, but curious, tentative. She was clothed, I was bare-legged, topless. My hair was flowing and free, hers was precisely curled, permed.
We did not drive far. We got out. She took me up a walk into her house. Again I had to raise my arm to keep from showing my boobs to passersby, neighbors. I clutched at my breasts with my hand, did a poor job of hiding them. I saw no one, but there could be eyes, watching. From windows, perhaps.