We went inside and I saw that my attempts at modesty had been futile. There was a party in progress. Guests turned, stared at me, turned away. It was not a pool party. Everyone was in formalwear, though it was quite fashionable, trendy. Laurie guided me through the guests, wordlessly. They seemed not overly concerned with my appearance, my plight, only looked to admire my nudity. She took me to a room just beyond the festivities.
It was small. I gasped when I saw it. It looked like a cell. The floor was tiled, some tiles were cracked. The walls were bare. In a corner stood an old-fashioned toilet, the tank overhead, a chain hanging down. A roll of perfumed toilet paper, however, waited. At least that was a luxury. There was a small sink beside the commode, a mirror for a girl to fix her makeup in.
And then there was a bed. It was just a cot, actually, like a prisoner might sleep on. It had an iron frame. There was just a sheet covering the mattress. There was no second sheet, no blanket. A pillow waited at one end. And tied to each of the four iron posts of the bed was a black cloth strip, knotted loosely, needing only an arm and a tug on the cloth to be fully secure.
Scariest of all, there was a stout pegboard on the wall. From it hung a variety of whips, straps, and paddles. I nearly fainted. Laurie pushed me into the room, closed the door behind us.
ÒSit on the bed,Ó she told me. I turned, abashed, afraid. I sat my bottom neatly on the edge of the mattress. Quickly she undressed, taking off everything except her boots. Then she put her jacket back on, left it open. Her bosoms thrust out from between its halves, impressive as ever, their cherry tips hard and wobbly, the nipples as big as dollar coins. I watched her, feeling like a hunted fawn. She had found me. She had brought me to her lair.
Nude and beautiful, if utterly deadly, she drew a small phone from her coat pocket. She unfolded it. She punched a button, spoke. ÒThere is no cane,Ó she said. ÒBring me my cane.Ó
A moment later the door opened. A middle-aged woman came in. Not a partier, but a kind of washer-woman. She had big arms, wet, looked as if she had just come from scrubbing floors. I looked down at the tiled floor. It was sparkling clean, polished, despite its age. Perhaps she had scrubbed it this morning.
ÒHereÕs your cane, maÕam,Ó the washer-woman said, handing it to Laurie. ÒI had to give Tommy what for this morning. Sorry I forgot to return it. He was in the apple orchard again, picking them apples. I got him right across his arse -- oh, my what have we here? Oh, youÕre going to get it! I see youÕre stripped down for action, maÕam, yes indeed. Has she been naughty, then?Ó the washer-woman spoke in a kind of lilting cockney, never quite finishing a sentence or pausing before she ambled right on to the next.
ÒThank you, Hilda. SheÕs one of my new models. I just discovered her. IÕm going to give her a few pointers, thatÕs all,Ó Laurie said. She eased the old washer-woman back out and shut the door behind her. She turned to me. ÒDo you remember when you answered my question with a question?Ó she asked.
ÒYes,Ó I gulped. I wanted to run, to hide. I wanted to shrink into my panties, but they were too small.
ÒThatÕs one of the things you mustnÕt do when you work for me,Ó she said. She flexed her cane. ÒStand up, please.Ó Her voice was kind, courteous. I stood. I was all trembly, like a newborn calf. She saw my anxiousness.
ÒTurn around,Ó she ordered. Still her voice was soft, gentle. I turned my back to her, knew where her eyes went when I did. ÒYes, take them right down, get them right off,Ó she said to me, knowingly. I hooked my thumbs reluctantly in the waistband of my panties.
ÒMy heels too?Ó I asked.
ÒNo, of course not, dear. The panties, that is all. Pull them down. I wonÕt do it for you.Ó
I hesitated. Oh, why was I even here? Why was I even in Amsterdam? This was so silly, so crazy...
ÒThe longer you wait the harder it will be,Ó she warned me. I tugged on my panties remorsefully, drew them down, felt my bottomcheeks spring out, into the air. It felt cool, caressing. ÒAll the way down,Ó she said. Anxiously I stooped lower, pulled the panties down my thighs, over my small round knees, down my calves. I let go of them at my ankles. They hung there, forlorn.
ÒTake hold of yourself,Ó she said. I grabbed my ankles. I felt my breasts swinging gently beneath my chest, saw the nipples wiggling, the plump gourds hanging like ripe apples. ÒStraighten your legs,Ó she said. ÒPosture is important. Surely you know that, as a young lady, donÕt you?Ó I raised my bottom higher, felt my knees lock. I strained to keep hold of my far-distant ankles.
ÒNow we shall conduct the job interview,Ó Laurie said matter-of-factly. ÒWhat is your name?Ó
ÒMelody,Ó I answered.
WHICK! The cane sliced into my bottom, catching me just below the tender inward curving of my cheeks. ÒOW!Ó I cried. My hinds wobbled, my tits bounced.
ÒThatÕs just your first name,Ó Laurie told me. ÒI need your full name, please.Ó She flexed her cane, as if in readiness for the omission of my middle name.
ÒMelody Emily Carr,Ó I said. I felt a tear in the corner of my right eye.
ÒAnd your age, Melody?Ó
Ò15,Ó I answered.
WHICK! Another wicked cut. ÒYeow!Ó I cried. My nipples danced, my bottom bucked and reared. I had trouble holding on to my ankles.
Ò15, maÕam, is how you should answer, Melody,Ó Laurie told me. I sniffled.
Ò15, maÕam,Ó I choked out.
ÒDonÕt worry, youÕll learn it all. YouÕve quite an incentive, donÕt you think?Ó she asked.
ÒYes, maÕam,Ó I answered.
ÒSee? YouÕre learning already. Did I have to remind you that time?Ó
ÒNo, maÕam,Ó I answered.
ÒWould you like to pull your panties up, Melody?Ó she asked.
ÒYes!Ó I cried.
SNICKCK! A double-salute! I almost bounded right up then, losing my grip entirely on my ankles. ÒOh, Boo! Hoo!Ó I sobbed out. I did not like this whipping, not at all, though the thought of being a GQ model girl had me tingling in inappropriate places.
ÒYes, maÕam,Ó Laurie reminded me.
ÒYes, maÕam,Ó I said, and reached for my panties.
WHACK! ÒNot yet!Ó she told me. ÒI merely asked.Ó
ÒOh! I canÕt stand this!Ó I cried.
ÒYou are the chosen,Ó she said. ÒLook how sparkling clean this room is! Do you think youÕd ever be made to scrub it down, except for the pleasure of some gentleman? Of course not! Only for erotic reasons would I ever give you a scrub brush and bucket, or anyone else, for that matter. Look how slim and lovely you are! Surely a few disciplinary strokes of the cane are not too much to ask. Afterward we shall dine together, you and I, at a fine restaurant somewhere. And I will introduce you to my male models. But first I must establish who is boss. IÕll have no Beckys here. You are too old to act like that, though youÕd try to get away with it if you could.
ÒOh, please hurry!Ó I said. Whatever she needed to do, I wanted her to get it over with.
ÒAh, sweet dear, wait for it,Ó she said. ÒThere is no rush. You are young, I am young. Show me how you can take it, be patient. Ask for the next stroke.Ó
ÒPlease, then -- but not too hard!Ó I still wanted her to hurry up.
WHACK! ÒOoooch!Ó I danced about. I weaved, waved my hips. I lurched. I almost fell on the bed. My boobies bounced like they were spring-loaded, under the blow.
ÒSee? You keep your posture well. You are more well-behaved than you think, precious. I like that in a girl. Tell me what kind of modeling youÕd like to do.Ó Laurie whisked her cane through the air, testing it, keeping me on edge.
ÒUh,Ó I gulped. ÒNot bare-bottomed modeling, thatÕs for sure,Ó I answered.
WHACK! Again the awful cane. I jumped up this time, I could not bear it. My hands flew to my ass and I rubbed it.
ÒMy, my, if youÕve had enough, why didnÕt you just say so?Ó Laurie asked me.
ÒI-I Oh, you wicked woman!Ó I cried. My bottom was seared. It was not its flawless white anymore.
ÒGet your panties up, we shall go to lunch,Ó she said then.
ÒWhat about you?Ó I asked.
ÒAh, I am not dressed. I had forgotten,Ó she smiled. ÒDo you have to pee? I have to,Ó she said. She walked to the toilet, sat down gracefully. I watched her bosoms jostle one another as she settled onto the ceramic seat.
ÒI have to go too,Ó I said, walking towards her, pulling my panties up.
ÒThen youÕll just have to take these down again,Ó she smiled, putting a hand out, catching my half-raised panties by the crotch. My bottom wiggled excessively from my caning. I heard her piss into the toilet.
She pushed my panties down my calves again. I did not know what to say. I felt we might not make lunch, after all. I heard her pee stop. ÒSit it my lap and weÕll do it together,Ó she husked.
I straddled her. Still wriggling from the searing strokes across my ass, I got down on her open thighs, rested my bottom between them, facing her. She took my hair, drew me forward. We kissed. ÒPiss now!Ó she breathed. Together we released our streams into the bowl.
We wiped each other. It was a moment of sharing, helpfulness. It felt unique. She eased me off her legs and we both stood up.
The door opened again. It was the washerwoman. She had a little rack of clothes. Just filmy panties, sheer nothing nighties, an insubstantial bra or two. ÒIÕm sorry, maÕam. I forgot to return the clothing,Ó she said. ÒIÕm lucky wasnÕt a man with her in here. He might have wanted her to dress up for him.Ó
ÒJust put the clothes against the wall,Ó Laurie said dismissively. She had me by the arm. My panties ringed my ankles, impeding me. We drifted even now toward the roomÕs far end, toward the bed. ÒAh, now she has a nice dell, doesnÕt she?Ó the washer-woman said. Her eyes admired my pussy greedily. ÒWill you be needing a hand-towel, maÕam? I see there isnÕt any in here.Ó
ÒNo, not right now,Ó Laurie answered. ÒJust privacy, please.Ó
ÒYes, maÕam,Ó the washer-woman replied. Giving me a knowing wink she turned, trundled out, shut the door.
ÒGet out of those panties and kneel up on the bed,Ó Laurie instructed me.
ÒOh, not another spanking!Ó I pleaded. I knew there were still quite a few implements hanging on the wall, all of them as yet untried.
ÒJust do as I say, or I will spank you indeed,Ó Laurie answered. I bent, sniffled, untangled my panties from the spikes of my heels and tossed them towards the door.
ÒDo you want someone to trip over them when they come in again?Ó Laurie asked me, seeing where IÕd thrown my undies.
ÒI wouldnÕt mind,Ó I replied. I hated that washer-woman. So ridiculous. Big and fat and admiring me like I was some thoughtless object.
ÒGet on the bed,Ó Laurie told me. ÒFace on your pillow, bottom high, kneeling.Ó I dropped my knees onto the cot and kneed my way forward on it. I bent my head, my back down, pressed my cheek to my pillow. It smelled fresh.
Laurie admired my rearing ass. Clean, neat strokes of the cane made searing red lines across it, keeping me perpetually jiggling it even as I waited for her next move. ÒDo you know what drew me to come see you this morning, to meet you?Ó Laurie asked me.
ÒNo,Ó I breathed into my pillow.
ÒBecause I hear youÕre an anal virgin,Ó she answered. Her words were frank, scary.
ÒI-I-Ó I wanted to deny it. She took a vial of oil from one of her coat pockets. She uncorked it. She sprinkled some on her finger.
ÒNoooo,Ó I gasped. Yet I did not flinch, save for the gentle weaving undulations of my ass.
ÒYesssss,Ó she replied. She drew close to me, bent, her bosoms full, nipples stiff. She parted my cheeks with a thumb and forefinger, found them tight, springy, clenching. She put a finger to my rosette. ÒDo not tighten yourself, Melody,Ó she urged. I tried to relax. I knew I had come for this. I knew, yet I did not know. She pushed her finger within my sphincter. I stiffened, jerked. She prodded me. I blubbered into my pillow. She burrowed deeper still. ÒHave you ever had anyone up this far?Ó she asked. Her voice was casual, polite. We were at a garden party.
ÒNot-not,Ó I gasped.
ÒWell, now you have,Ó she replied. She thrust in more, I felt my cheeks flex reflexively wide, then tighten again. ÒTry to relax,Ó she said. I felt my breath huff and puff up from my throat, past my teeth. She drew back a little. ÒIn and out, in and out now, just like a penis,Ó she said. I felt her surge back and forth, croaked. It was an utterly new sensation. I was sure I didnÕt like it. ÒYou will have a penis in here soon, I can assure you,Ó she said.
ÒYesssss,Ó I breathed, gasped. Did I want that? I did not know what I wanted. My panties were on the floor on the other side of the room.
ÒIn and out, in and out,Ó she said. I felt slimness. I wanted something bigger, fuller, deep down inside me there. ÒNow, letÕs take this little finger of mine out and see what else we can teach you with,Ó Laurie said. I heard a pop. Her finger was withdrawn. She went to the sink and washed it. She drew and linen handkerchief from her coat pocket and wiped her fingers. I remained quivering on the bed. I was afraid to move, like a patient after surgery.
Laurie reached into her coat. It looked to me like she was reaching for a gun, except she pulled out something worse. A dildo. Fine and big and looking like it had been carved from ivory. She walked over to me again.
****
We sat at dinner. We were elegant. It was the next evening. The previous night, as promised, we had eaten at a restaurant. Then today she introduced me to her GQ men. I was shy, blushing. Afterward, when they were gone, she made me choose amongst them, telling her which I preferred.
It was a private reception, a private dinner. There were about a dozen people present. The hostess had received me warmly, taken my coat, admired me. All present knew why I was here. The GQ men IÕd favored were here too, deferential, letting the women lead. Letting Laurie make all the decisions for them. They were loyal to her. I admired her management skills. Some of the men were massive, power lifters, though not too heavy, they had to still look tall and fine in a business suit for her fashion magazine.
I ate quietly. I was urged to eat. All eyes flitted to me, away, then back again. Dessert was served. Cherry pie. I knew the significance. And so did all the guests. I blushed as my piece was served to me. I nibbled at it, popped a cherry in my mouth, could not eat the rest.
ÒAnd in regards to your orientation,Ó Laurie said at last, clearing her throat a little before she began. She looked directly at me. I gazed back, then had to lower my eyes. I could not hold her. They blazed like the sun. Gypsy eyes, with dark fire, as if from some deep shadowland fueled by volcanoes. ÒPermit me to be explicit, if you will,Ó Laurie said to the host, who smiled back at her. Explicitness was permitted. ÒYou, Laurie, do look at me when IÕm speaking to you, darling.Ó I tried to raise my eyes, did a little. ÒYou must be whipped first. It is necessary. Nothing too severe. Your bottom must be warmed for it. It will make it easier for you when it comes. It will make you more receptive. And the male (she cleared her throat softly again) the males will stem all the more eagerly to you, feeling your hot bottom grinding up against them.Ó
I sipped a sip of milk. I said nothing. ÒLet us have her clothes off then,Ó Laurie said. Two females rose, two who had sat on either side of me. They urged me up from my chair. I flinched a little as they pulled my clothes off me. There was not much ceremony about it. Just pull up the blouse, unzip the skirt, unsnap the bra, and (alas!) down with my panties. They took everything right off, cooing a little, perhaps to make me feel better, perhaps because they liked my beauty, but they were mostly workmanlike, quick, women with a job to do and doing it.
At last I stood like Venus, unclothed, my hair pretty. My new girlfriends unpinned it so that it hung free. My tits wobbled on my chest. My nipples were harder than I could ever remember them being. I felt moist between my legs.
Laurie stood. She cast her eyes approvingly over my figure. ÒYou look like youÕre about to have a bath,Ó she laughed. The men rose. I saw their trousers, bulging, eager to spurt out their treasures. The hostess rose. Laurie turned me. The rest of the female guests got up. All were young, though not as young as myself. Laurie pointed ahead of me and told me I must lead the way. ÒGo through that door, dear, and walk gracefully, or I will switch you before we even arrive. Be on your best behavior now, go!Ó I turned. I walked on my spiked heels, my hips swaying. My glorious nude bottom cheeks rolled with my every step.
Beyond the door was a stone passage. We were in an old part of town, an old house with mysteries. I tread down the passageway with fearful footsteps. Behind me the others followed.
My bottom felt huge. I felt intense embarrassment at mooning everyone with it. But then, thatÕs what I was here for, wasnÕt it? My bottom. My virgin anus. Now was the night I was truly to receive. A man up me. All my life IÕd wondered, waited. Now, within the hour, it was to be done. All that remained now was for the preliminary whipping. I did not like the thought of that. I reached back, unconsciously caressed my bottom cheeks as I thought of it. ÔNecessary,Õ she had called it. Was it really? She said it would make the men even bigger. Did I want that? I realized I had already chosen the GQ guys I thought would be biggest where it counted. I felt chilly, even though I knew the stone hallway was not cold.
There were steps at the end. I mounted them, carefully, unsteady in my heels. Beyond the passage turned. And then curtains, a curtain of beads that hung down. I passed within them. They tinkled. Ah, no!
A huge round dais waited. And atop it, almost as an afterthought, a trestle. The bar betwixt its vertical supports was padded. For the comfort of my tummy, no doubt. I wished I could sit my bottom upon it. ThatÕs where I would need comforting.
The others entering, the tinkling of the beads announcing their arrival behind me. I continued to gaze at the dais. There was a bucket next to the trestle, I saw a sponge.
ÒWe use it all the time,Ó Laurie whispered to me. ÒSometimes we bathe the girl first, if sheÕs fresh from the pool, or the beach, or hot from the summer heat. But you are perfect, darling. Just mount the steps.Ó Her fingers grazed my arms, ran down my back, sought even lower still. Flinching from her I approached the raised platform. I slurred my feet up the steps, knowing I should pay much greater care to where I was headed. I would not come down from this platform the same girl. I would be hot, bothered, blubbering. I would most certainly need a bath then, at least in my hindquarters. I turned at the top step, considering. My eyes widened. Everyone was undressing.
ÒI-I donÕt want to,Ó I said. A man laughed.
ÒYou cannot back down,Ó he replied.
ÒBe a good girl and go to the trestle like youÕre supposed to,Ó the hostess said to me. I knew the implication of her words. I would go in any event, dragged or willingly, but if dragged I would need more ÔwarmingÕ on my ass before the men were put to me.
Stepping distinctly now, sure of each step that it would be my very last, hoping God would take me up at every second, I approached the bar. Yes, I had been good, hadnÕt I? I used to go to Christian Sunday School. They said if you were good Jesus would make you disappear in the days just before his Second Cuming. I said the word wrong in my mind, felt immensely guilty. I needed Jesus now. Cum, Lord Jesus. Oops! I knew I was doomed then. He would not zap me up to heaven, like in the Late Great Planet Earth. He would leave me with all the wicked people. I turned again, saw my captors were pleasantly naked now, all the important parts displayed. Cocks, cunts, breasts. Some wore clothes still, jackets or stockings or boots. But all showed what they had come to give. Themselves. Their privates. And I was to inspire their evening of pleasure with my virgin contribution.
I walked up to the bar. I spied a cane standing against a low table on the dais. Atop the table were vials of oil, condoms, and a pretty vase of flowers. I turned, walked to the flowers. Delicately I sniffed them. They were lilies. For my (soon to be gone) purity.
ÒTo the trestle, Melody!Ó Laurie called. She did not want me to see what was in the drawer slung from the underside of the table. I felt mischievous. I reached down, pulled it open.
Oh! My eyes nearly popped out of my head. There were AWFUL things! Tit clamps! A speculum! A ball gag! A blood pressure cuff. A needle! Beside the needle something labelled Solumedrol. An enema, more anal suppositories, tubing, with a tag attached saying it was for a personÕs pee hole!