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From: Andrew Roller <andrewroller@sprintmail.com>
Subject: Party Pussies part 2 of 4 (NND)
_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
PARTY PUSSIES
_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
Chapter Two
I fell asleep with a cock up my belly and awoke with yet
another one in my nest. There was almost no relief for me, though, in
retrospect, I must say that despite the number of the men on the bed I
was treated mostly kindly. I awoke to find a man humping me and,
feeling a new sense of arousal, I let myself move with him, lifting my
hips as he drew away and sobbing out a sigh as he brought himself down,
cutting me open with his hard cock. I was experienced now, yet still
tight, awkward. Yet I lifted my legs and drew them around his hips,
encouraging him.
My breasts felt perky with the morning, yet sore. I brought my
fingers to them when the man, lifting them, left a space between myself
and him. A female I did not know, lying beside me, lifted her head.
She urged my new lover to allow her face to come between his chest and
mine. He permitted it, being arched to accomodate his larger frame to
my small, 13-year-old body. In the gap created by his arched back she
placed her head, and she suckled upon my breast much as Vanessa had,
though, being soft and slumbrous with the morning, she did not bite at
me, merely sucked and licked.
I was brought off under my new lover. He withdrew. The
woman’s mouth remained. She turned her face and lay with it resting
upon my breast. She licked less now, simply letting my risen teat poke
within her mouth, sticking up within the corner of her mouth, resting
her cheek on my plump bosom. I liked having her there, for some
reason. I did not know her name. I stroked my fingers through her long
hair and felt strangely like a mother.
My womb felt full. I thought at first it was my belly, from
eating. Then my tummy told me it was hungry from my exertions and I
realized the fullness I was feeling was within my place where babies
grew. I must have had a dozen men’s spunk in there, I feared. I hoped
I’d taken a pill, but couldn’t remember if I ever had. Perhaps one had
been slipped into my wine glass at dinner. I hoped so. I’d drunk my
wine obediently. It had been poured before I arrived at the table.
With soft tongue-licks assailing one of my breasts, I managed
nonetheless to lift my head. The bedroom was a sea of bodies. They
were everywhere, and as I peered at them through sleepy eyes I realized
there was a great deal of wetness between my legs. I guessed I must be
lying now with my hips in a veritable pool of sperm. My cunny burned,
both on the outer lips and within, where nothing, before last night, had
ever touched me. I felt a fullness in my bladder and realized I must
pee soon.
I was afraid to get up. I was afraid to look at myself between
my legs. I knew there was blood there, from my first penetration, last
night, by Brendan. It was dry by now, I assumed, and I was well-coated
with my own juices and men’s sperm. Yet I still feared to take charge
of myself and deal with the fact that I was no longer a virgin.
I cast my eyes about, looking for Bethany. I spied her curled
up, quite happily, on a round pink rug on the floor, some distance from
the bed. I saw light whip marks on her bottom. I could see her fig
peeping back at me between her thighs. Yet she moved, even as I first
set eyes on her, wriggling like a dog in a happy dream, so that I saw
her face, her bottom disappearing underneath her. There was a big grin
on her face and she seemed to mouth the word ‘more,’ with her lips.
Then her mouth stopped moving, her smile faded, yet there remained just
a trace of it. I was glad her bottom had survived the night. I
reasoned that she must have found pleasure, tied over the trestle, after
the whip had warmed her heinie. How many men had she taken? I could
not know. I guessed she herself did not know.
Finally I raised myself up. Carefully I detached myself from
the lips and teeth of the woman who still licked lightly at my nipple.
I managed to crawl from the bed, going over several bodies of big men
and two supple women, including the one who’d sucked most recenly at my
breasts. Finding the floor with my feet, I got down from the bed. I
looked for Steve. He was lying asleep in a corner. I was relieved to
see there was no dildo stuck up his butt. His legs were apart and his
cock was shrunk to normal size. He looked exhausted in his sleep, as if
he’d had the workout he’d always wished for, forced to fuck every female
in the room. Then I saw brown stains on his dick, and knew he’d been
put up at least one bottom too. I hoped it had been a female one.
I made my way from the bedroom into the hall. Someone had
removed my heels, though I still wore my cufflinks and my bow tie. I
looked around me. Where was the nearest bathroom? I stumbled with
stiff legs down the hall, burning in my loins, though pleasantly, until
I came upon a room with a toilet in it. I realized then that there had
probably been a bath attached to the bedroom I’d been in. I scolded
myself for walking so far. But then I felt glad because the bath
attached to the master bedroom had probably been used by everyone during
the night except me. This bathroom, down the hall, remained pristine.
I settled myself happily on its toilet and felt warm pee immediately
escape from between my legs.
To my surprise, just as I finished peeing, Bethany walked
stiffly into the bathroom.
“Hurry up! I have to go too!” Bethany said to me.
“I thought you were asleep,” I said. I put my fingers between
my legs, held my lips apart to pee.
“I was. But your foot kicked me awake,” she frowned.
“Oh, sorry,” I said. I remembered that, in stepping over her,
I had indeed stubbed my toe on her soft hips.
“Ah, girls, there you are,” Eveline, stepping in behind
Bethany, said. She had tousled hair, completely undone and free.
Bethany, not knowing the woman had followed her, turned abruptly about.
Bethany’s small hands flew to her bottom.
“Ohhhh, I don’t want any more WHIPPINGS!” Bethany said in a
high voice.
Eveline laughed. “I am not here to whip you, darling, but to
see that you both go upstairs after you pee.”
Still rubbing her bottom, Bethany said, “I don’t want to do
anything more that you tell me.” Yet her voice sounded hesitant, as if
she feared crossing the woman.
Eveline stroked the girl’s very messy hair with her fingers. I
saw there was sperm in Bethany’s hair and realized there was some stuck
in mine too. We would need a good shampooing, not just a bidet, to get
all the men’s love essences off us.
“I must clear the house, dear. It wouldn’t do to have you two
delectable little ex-virgins loitering around downstairs,” Eveline said.
Bethany, still holding her bottom, but with her pubis thrust
ungainly forward, as if she wished Eveline might pet the hair between
her legs, said, “Ohhh, but I want to kiss Victor goodbye if he must
leave!”
I did not know who Victor was. A man who’d plumbed her depths,
I guessed, making her happy when she most feared to be made sad.
“You have many men to meet yet, my dear, and all of them
handsome. I don’t want you dawdling over any particular one just yet,”
Eveline said to the girl. And she did indeed put a hand down between
Bethany’s legs, and tickle her slit, but the girl immediately drew her
hips back, sharply, for she didn’t really want her nest petted, only
stood that way inadvertently.
“Oh, you are so MEAN!” Bethany whined. She spun about,
clapping her hands again over her bare bottom as she turned her ass to
the woman. Then she traipsed over to the potty I was squatted upon.
“Hurry up!” Bethany told me. “Else I’ll sit on your lap and pee on
you!”
Tenderly, carefully, I wiped myself between my legs. I felt
normal there, a soft gap, albeit a little sore. Bethany, watching me,
wiggled her ass most distinctly, needing to pee. She kept her hands
over the cheeks of her heinie and cast a worried look back, once, at
Eveline, to make sure the woman wasn’t plotting against her bottom.
Eveline looked at herself in a bathroom mirror mounted over the sink and
passed her fingers back through her unkempt hair.
We peed, all three of us, Eveline last. Then she took both
myself and Bethany by our hands and led us down the hall, away from the
bedroom. We mounted a flight of stairs at the back of the house.
“Will we get pregnant now?” Bethany asked, meaning, I guess, if
we already had or not. But Eveline did not reply to her question.
The day passed. I heard people leaving downstairs as Bethany
and I lay soaking in our tub. We slept a little, had breakfast
downstairs after everyone else was gone. Malthus and Steve did not
appear at the table. It was just me, Bethany, and Eveline, plus a
middle-aged maid who served us. Even Linda did not pop by. I wondered
if perhaps Brendan had taken her home with him.
Sleeping again, we woke and spent late afternoon swimming out
behind Malthus’ house, in his pool. We wished to skinny dip but Eveline
made us wear bikinis. She said she did not wish for our breasts or our
bottoms to be tanned. We played in the pool until sundown and then had
dinner, just the three of us again, the maid serving.
Within the house Bethany and I were required to be nude.
Eveline gave no explanation, simply insisted, and we obeyed, knowing she
could be rather handy with a switch, if we refused, for it was she who
brought a glow to Bethany’s bottom over the bedroom trestle on previous
night. Bethany and I took a long bath after dinner and then, sitting
downstairs naked, by a fire in the living room, we played cards with
Eveline. The maid remained always in attendance, and fetched for us
whatever our appetities might wish in the way of snacks. I found it
easy again to sit on my bottom, though it was still marked in places.
Bethany’s whipping had faded completely and I wished Eveline had whipped
me instead of Brendan.
Except for the memory of Brendan imprinted on my fanny, I
thought little of him anymore. It was as if I was in a special world,
just Bethany and Eveline and I and the maid, and I liked not having to
dwell on anything or anyone. I gazed into the fire. It was warm and
lush and I liked the crackling sound it made as it slowly consumed the
big logs in the hearth. At first I’d felt odd, being in the
house without Malthus. I feared I might round a corner and bump into
him at any moment, or Steven, and I assumed, for awhile, that one or
both of them might be watching us. But Steven appeared to be quite
gone, perhaps taken home by a lady. Malthus, wherever he was, was not
bothering Bethany and I, and I enjoyed after awhile the feeling of
complete freedom, with nobody apparently in the house except Eveline and
myself and the maid and Bethany.
Bethany and I had the run of the house. Eveline did keep quite
a few of the rooms locked, so that Bethany and I could only explore the
more public areas of the house. I twisted a few of the locked
doorknobs, wondering what was inside those rooms, but I was not too
curious. My bottom was still tender enough to keep me cautious.
Another day passed. Again Bethany and I ran about the house
nude, and swam in the pool in our bikinis. I liked our swimsuits. Mine
was a tiger-print Bikini and Bethany wore one with little polka dots on
it. Eveline had given them to us, knowing our sizes, somehow. Perhaps
Malthus kept swimsuits in the house for all sorts of girls, plus
cufflinks, and bowties, and (hopefully) panties and bras too, for my own
clothes that I’d arrived in had disappeared. So had Bethany’s.
In the evening we played cards again. We played pinocle and,
because Bethany like it, we also played fish, though I thought the
latter rather a childish game. Bethany wanted to play war too, but
Eveline said we’d be up half the night if we got into that card game.
So instead it was pinocle again, after we’d played several hands of
fish. Then Eveline had the maid put Bethany and I to bed.
“Sleep well, dears. We’ll be going into town tomorrow, to
shop, and perhaps to do a little visiting also,” Eveline said to us. I
guessed from the sexy warmth in her voice that we might meet men too,
and experience once again the unique sensation of having them up within
our bellies.
“Ooooh, I don’t want to get fucked again,” Bethany whispered to
me as we lay in our bed together. The maid was gone, our light was
turned out, except for a small nightlight glowing by the door.
“You know you do,” I said. I stuck my tongue out, licked her
chin.
“Don’t,” Bethany told me.
“Dream about penises,” I said to her, teasingly.
“No, I can’t have any more of those. I’m going to be a nun,”
Bethany said. She paused. “I got an ‘A’ in ‘good touch, bad touch’ at
school, you know.”
“So did Mother Theresa,” I said. I rolled away from her. I
put my hands between my legs and felt my slit. It was warm, but somehow
empty-feeling. I knew I was wicked as I lightly brushed my fingertips
across my spot.
“Do you want to play with ourselves?” Bethany asked beyond my
shoulder. I imaged her fingers were between her legs now, as mine were.
“No,” I breahted. But I gasped a little as I rubbed myself
more completely. I heard a catch in Bethany’s breathing.
“Eveline will whip us if she finds us diddling our slits,” I
said. She’d warned us downstairs, playing cards, not to frig ourselves
in our bed after our lights had been turned out.
“I know,” Bethany answered. “That whip HURTS!” Yet even as
she spoke I heard her breath catch again, and I knew my nipples were
stiff because, not in spite of, Eveline’s threat.
Suddenly our bedroom door opened, just a crack, letting the
light in from the hall. Bethany and I made a rustling sound, under the
sheets, as we quickly drew our fingers up away from our snatches.
“Girls, are you behaving?” Eveline’s voice called from the
hall. I saw her eyes peer in at us.
“Yes’m,” Bethany and I chimed. I felt silly, like a little
girl, yet hadn’t I just been babyish, diddling my slit when I knew I
shouldn’t?
“Good, because there’s a trestle downstairs for naughty girls
and, to be quite frank, my fingers are itchy tonight,” Eveline said, in
a voice that sounded quite honest.
“We’ll be good!” Bethany assured her in a high-pitched, child’s
voice. Yet even as she spoke I felt my own fingers stealing down my
tummy, towards my legs again.
Eveline closed our door.
“We must gag ourselves,” Bethany said to me, frankly.
“Yes,” I gasped. It was strange, her suggestion, yet I knew
there were cloth gags stored in the top drawer of our dresser. If we
couldn’t keep our fingers away from our slits, why not at least protect
ourselves?
As the evening deepened I could hear Bethany, her breath
puffing behind her gag, as mine was, as we each frigged ourselves with
wild abandon in our bed.
In the morning the maid found our bed was moist in places, and
smelled of excited females, but thankfully she didn’t report us to
Eveline.
I stood in the bathroom brushing my hair. I looked in the
mirror, wished I was older. My cheeks puffed with my youth and my face
was round, almost oval. I had red in my cheeks, not from pinching them.
Bethany sat on the toilet. She was humming a tune. She’d long
since finished peeing, and appeared not to need to poop, but she sat
there anyway, as if trying to expel all the man juice that had been
pumped into her two nights ago, and had now long since been rinsed out
or absorbed. Perhaps she was attempting to regain her virginity.
I looked at her. She swung her feet back and forth, banging
her heels against the porcelain bowl of the toilet. There was an absent
look in her eyes.
“Don’t watch me while I’m peeing,” Bethany said to me.
“You’re not peeing. You’re just sitting there,” I said. I
felt a soft excitement between my legs and wondered if she felt it too.
I guessed she did.
“We’re lucky the maid didn’t tell Eveline we masturbated,”
Bethany said to me. She swung her legs, her feet small and bare and her
toes nicely painted with red nail polish.
“Only boys masturbate. We frigged,” I answered. I’d learnt
that in school, though I didn’t necessarily believe it, though I
sometimes did, especially when speaking of such things out loud. It
sounded like such a horrid word, ‘masturbate,’ reminding me of
sperm-swamped teenage boys hiding all alone in their closets with
Penthouse, while I skated down the street outside, wishing I had someone
to play with.
“Well, it’s the same anyway,” Bethany said. “We were naughty.”
“I had a strange dream,” I said. My hair was bright and glossy
from brushing, like deep-hued gold. Bethany, her hair white as silken
corn stalks, looked up at me curiously.
“Was I in it?” she asked.
“Yes, you were,” I replied.
“What was I doing in it?” she asked in her high voice,
inquisitively.
“You were masturbating,” I replied.
Bethany leaped from the toilet. She darted across the room
and, as she’d been holding a teddy bear while she peed, she swung the
bear at my nude bottom and swatted me with it.
“Oh!” I cried. But it was just a button-nosed bear, all furry,
and it didn’t really hurt.
Bethany tromped out of the bathroom, the balls of her bare feet
smacking loud against the tiled floor. I thought of my dream again,
looking once more in the mirror. In my dream I’d fallen down a rabbit
hole and woken up in a can of Pepsi. Yes, it was Pepsi, I recalled, for
it had a lemony tang to it, inside, not oily like Coke had. It may have
even been suger-free Pepsi. But there was a curious thing about this
can of Pepsi, for it was in space. It was in outer space, out beyond
the comets, and it was 22,000 miles wide. I couldn’t remember how long
it was. As long as a can of Pepsi would be, I supposed, if someone had
widened it until it was 22,000 miles wide.
A voice drifted across my thoughts.
“Hurry,” it said. “We’re going hiking.”
I turned. Malthus was in the door. I smelled persimmon on the
air. He extended an umbrella to me. “This will keep you from getting
wet if it rains,” he said. I took the umbrella, looked down at my
breasts. They hung naked on my chest. The teats were uptilted, fresh
and young, the breast nipples pink, and I thought how curious that was,
for I was 10,843 years old.
“And a half,” a small voice piped up. I looked, but did not
see Bethany.
“She’s sleeping in the bedroom,” Malthus replied. “Just you
and I will hike today. Tomorrow I will kill you.”
“No!” I said. But I knew it must happen. My chest felt tight,
though it was only a 13-year-old’s chest.
“You sound as if the data files might be erased,” Malthus
laughed. I saw a girl pass the doorway to the bathroom. She looked
like me. She was me, I realized, and then another passed behind her,
and another.
Malthus looked back over his shoulder.
“I like having you around,” he grinned, when his face turned
back to me. “But only you have the data files.”
“And only through my 13th birthday,” I answered.
“You erased the rest,” he answered.
“I did not want to remember all 10,843 years of it,” I
answered.
“But you are not 10,843 years old anymore,” Malthus said.
“No,” I answered. “I’m 13, and every week you kill me and then
clone another copy of me, and download new files into my brain so that
I’ll remember again who I am.”
“Through your 13th birthday,” Malthus answered.
“Yes,” I said, as if in a dream.
“But I have kept track of the time,” Malthus said. “You are
close to 20,000 years old now, though after the 10,843rd year it was
just cloned bodies, cloned lives, dying each week.”
“No,” I said. I turned from him. I lifted my brush to my
hair. “It doesn’t matter,” I said. I was alive, but just for a week,
and then I’d be dead again, but resurrected, only to die again, for how
long? For 10,000 years, over and over again, and when Malthus got too
old he killed himself and had one of the clones of me resurrect him.
A woman’s skirts in the door. I turned, expecting Eveline, but
it was me. I was hunched and bent over with age, 90 perhaps. My
knuckles stood out like lumps on bony-fingered hands that looked
surprisingly nimble.
“I did not wish to die,” a crone’s voice said to me. It was
me, speaking to me, but she had chosen to live instead, and die
naturally.
“How can I be born again, in my 13th year?” I asked, for she
seemed to know much, and Malthus was gone.
“It is full-growth cloning,” the old woman said. She seemed
not to mind being asked a question. She had nothing else to do, it
seemed, save to wander around the house, looking for answers in her old
age that she’d lose, when she died, for she had chosen not to make date
files of her mind.
“I do not like this,” I said. I stroked my hair with my brush,
making my hair glow like King’s Gold, bright enough to lure Midas, and
trap him in his desires.
“There is nothing else to do,” the old woman said. “What would
you have us do, hmmm? At least I had a full life, and am looking
forward to death, though you go on living, in the data files, even
though you die every week.”
“We are immortal,” I said.
“You are immortal,” she answered. “I have no data files
preserving my mind, and now I’m going senile, forgetting... what was
your name?”
“My name is your name,” I answered.
“Oh yes,” the old woman said, considering. “The immortal
girl. The not-immortal immortal girl who preserves data files of her
mind...” her voice weakened. Her gaze wandered around the bathroom.
“Bethany is sleeping,” the old woman said.
“I must wake her,” I told her. I swept past the woman, nude
and young in my body, while she was bent over and weak and wearing
clothes to hide her haggard body.
Malthus stood in the bedroom looking out the window. It was
huge, and I expected to see the Mexican desert outside, waterless. But
instead I saw we were up in the mountains, and dusk was settling in, and
I could see fairy lights out beyond the window, sprinkling fairy dust.
“With fusion, anything is possible,” Malthus murmured, staring
out the window.
“You made fairies,” I said. I crept up behind him and put a
bare hand on his shoulder. He wore black. A black cloak, a hood thrown
back to expose hair that had gone grey. He was letting himself age this
time, though next time he might go mountain climbing at 30 and choose
not to come back.
“Look,” he pointed. “Down by the river. There’s a troll there
now, though he’ll only scare you.” He laughed. He looked at me.
“Unless I say otherwise.”
“Yes,” I answered. I saw a troll down by the small stream that
flowed through trees down the mountainside. It was fishing, and looked
glum, for there were no travellers for it to scare.
“Bethany came running up to the house scared out of her wits
yesterday when I first installed the troll, and she was crossing the
bridge to pick flowers,” Malthus said.
I wanted to laugh, but didn’t. Bethany was like a small puppy,
I thought, amusing but tirelessly childish sometimes, like when a puppy
wets the rug.
But the mice would clean that up, wouldn’t they? I could not
remember. At one time there had been no mice. Not helpful mice,
anyway, that picked up after you when you made a mess. At one time the
mice had been real, and a nuisance, and if you made a mess it was real
too, not something cleaned up so quickly you hardly noticed it. I
longed suddenly to go back to that world. But I couldn’t, could I?
That was a world where death had been real, and wounds, and scars, until
one day all those things were banished...
I turned. Bethany lay nude in the bed. She shivered a
little. Her breasts were pink-tipped, like mine. She was just growing
her pubic curls.
“Bethany, wake up,” I said. “We’re going hiking.”
“Don’t wanna,” Bethany answered. I felt myself slipping. I
was in her dream, suddenly, not mine. We were in the gumdrop mountains,
and it was cold, but we were nude, for some reason, though we wore
snowshoes. The wind was crisp and too strong and it blew back our hair.
“There! Can you see it?” Bethany asked. She pointed.
“No,” I said. “What?”
“The Candy Cottage, stupid,” Bethany said. “Why do you think
we’d be hiking through Candyland, and having to cross these big gumdrop
mountains, if it weren’t for all the candy at the Candy Cottage?”
“Oh yes,” I said. “But these mountains are made of candy. We
can just eat them.” But I wasn’t hungry for candy, and Bethany seemed
set on making our journey, despite the wind.
“I hope that darned dog isn’t waiting for us in the lollipop
forest,” Bethany told me. “We may have to hop on an ice cream sandwhich
and float across the marshmellow pond to get to the cottage.”
“But I’m not hungry for candy,” I said. There was a whine in
my voice.
“Well, I AM!” Bethany declared. She rubbed her tummy. It was
flat, though I suspected she’d been downstairs in the bed the night
before, with the guests, as I’d been. Had we been in that bed only
once? I couldn’t remember. Perhaps we’d been in it many times, over
the course of nine months, but somehow we’d both avoided getting
pregnant.
“Too much candy to get pregnant,” Bethany said to me, quite
seriously, looking up at me with wide eyes. “As long as we go to the
Candy Cottage each week we can’t get pregnant.” She looked at my tits,
which were bigger than hers, but not by as much as she feared. “You
should be little like me, then you’d know those kinds of things,”
Bethany said with a self-satisfied smile. She stuck out her chest and
showed me her boobs, assuring me that if mine were just a bit smaller,
I’d be in the same league as her, and know about the magic still that
the Candy Cottage possessed.
“But we must watch out for the Troll,” Bethany said. “I met
him yesterday, for the first time, when I was trying to cross the
bridge.”
I awoke from my thoughts. I was in the bathroom. I felt my
feet. They were firmly planted on the floor, and it was cold. Bare
tile against my bare feet. Outside I smelled the heat of the desert and
knew I was in Mexico again. Such a strange dream I’d had. Off in
space, beyond the comets, in a Pepsi can that was 22,000 miles across
and longer than I could calculate. I brushed my hair back and was glad
I was me again, in a world where everything was still real. Though for
how much longer? Sheep were being cloned already, and monkeys too.
Would they clone the Monkeys next? I did not know. Perhaps John Lennon
would rejoin the Beatles, cloned back to life. We would dance in Shea
Stadium, Bethany and I, for the first time, to a band reborn from long
ago. They would play Sergeant Pepper for us, though they’d not written
it the first time they played in that stadium. I would leave when they
sang “She’s Leaving Home.” But I would remember to notice when the
light changed.
There were no flies out here in the desert, or mosquitoes.
Bethany and I liked to wander at night in the garden. The petunias were
just blooming then, and the daffodils.
Strangely, although we wanted to go shopping, Eveline did not
take us. Instead we were kept, like pets, within the house. My dreams
had been scary but they’d not been devoid of their pleasures. I found
myself playing Monopoly with Bethany in the living room and felt rather
bored. We were both nude, our titties high and young on our chests, our
legs youthfully open, showing our slits to one another. We were not old
enough yet to feel a necessity of reserve. Bethany flopped on her
belly. She tossed her play Monopoly money onto the board.
“Here, you can have ALL my money for staying on Baltic Avenue,”
Bethany said. “I want WEAL money!” She pouted at me. I think she
liked being babyish sometimes, and she surely looked it at the moment.
We were near the fireplace. There was a bearskin rug which Bethany had
claimed for herself, saying she needed to keep her bottom warm, yet now
she lay naked upon the bearskin, looking like a newborn, while her white
ass stuck up quite exposed.
I think she was beginning to lust a little for men, as I was.
She looked sideways. Not seeing Eveline, she slipped her fingers under
her hips. She lifted her ass slightly as she put her fingers under
her. I suspected her fingers found a moist purchase between her legs.
“Bethany,” I said in a warning voice. I held all my properties
in my hand, like cards, inspecting the rents due for each of them. None
of them were mortgaged. Bethany, though she owned Boardwalk and Park
Place, had mortgaged both of them, plus most of her other properties.
She complained that the game had no candy store one could own.
“Then you’d get lots of rent from me,” Bethany said. She stuck
her tongue out at me.
I stood. I thought she would take her fingers out from under
her, but she didn’t. I walked round behind her. Sure enough, there
were Bethany’s fingers, stuck between her open legs, diddling her slit.
She realized I was on to her game and quickly closed her legs. But she
left her fingers in place.
“Eveline, Bethany’s frigging herself,” I called out.
“Ooooh, you!” Bethany said. She yanked her fingers out from
under her and rolled quickly onto her back. I found myself staring down
at her muff. It looked sweet, growing in tight curls between her legs.
Eveline came into the room. She held a riding crop lightly, by
one finger. The crop was dangling off her finger by the loop at its
tip.
“Are we being naughty?” Eveline asked. She looked squarely at
Bethany. The girl lay with hands uplifted, not quite sure where to put
them. Her fingertips appeared to have traces of moisture on them.
“Yes,” Bethany said defiantly. “Lisa’s being a tattletale.”
Bethany tossed back her dark hair. She wore a long, flowing
dress, plus a vest, with a pearl necklace and ankle-high boots. It was
a sharp contrast to the enforced nudity of our own appearance. One, I
knew, was made to keep us always conscious of our place as newcomers at
this house. My nipples were stiff on my chest, as were Bethany’s.
Eveline’s might have been too, but they were concealed behind her vest
and her blouse and her bra. Her dress, clasping her tightly round her
waist, swished at her ankles.
“You are lucky I have other plans for your little posterior,”
Eveline said to Bethany. “Otherwise you’d find it quite pretty, in the
mirror, a few minutes from now, with blazing red stripes across it.”
“Then you have no way of punishing me,” Bethany said. She
stuck her tongue out at Eveline and put her hands directly to her thatch
of venus hair. Although she pretended to be only covering it, to be
modest, I saw the tips of Bethany’s fingers slink down between her legs,
where they quickly began working again in her slit.
To my surprise, Eveline laughed.
“Are you that hungry for a man, little Bethany?” she asked.
Bethany blushed. I felt a desire on my part to place my own fingers in
my slit, but it seemed wrong. Bethany took her fingers from her pubis
and lay with her legs scissored apart on the floor. She pressed her
hands into her belly. She diddled at her navel with her pointing
finger.
“Noooo, I’m not,” Bethany said. Not facing punishment, she’d
suddenly reformed herself, as if the refusal of Eveline to whack her
fanny had take all the fun out of disobeying.
“Good,” Eveline said. She walked around the girl completely,
as if inspecting some new creature just born. Bethany lay wide-eyed,
looking up at the woman. “Do you want a baby for your belly, Bethany?”
Eveline asked.
“No,” Bethany said.
Eveline knelt at the girl’s head. Her knees opened and her
long, flowing skirts hung in folds between them. Eveline stroked her
riding crop across Bethany’s bosoms. She caught at one of the girl’s
nipples with the looped tip. Bethany, frightened of the crop, lay
perfectly still. Yet she had to breathe, and with every breath her
bosoms were lifted up, where they seemed to offer themselves to the
crop’s rigid shaft.
I thrust my fingers between my legs. I couldn’t help it. The
scene looked quite erotic, and I watched with voyeur’s eyes (and
fingers). Little Bethany was completely dominated by the rigid crop.
It hung suspended, like some awful promise, above her small, naked
body. She trembled, yet she seemed unable to take her eyes off it. She
dared not try to flee it. The slightest disobedient movement on her
part promised to bring it zinging down upon her. She had lovely, tender
flesh. Anyplace it struck her would leave a smarting, painful memory to
keep her company all the rest of the day.
Bethany had lovely, light pink nipples. They’d contracted into
twin points and I knew they must be dying for a tender touch. Yet the
crop offered only pain. Eveline teased Bethany’s nipples with its loop,
with its inflexible shaft. And then, all of a sudden, as if breaking
through some promise she’d made, perhaps to Malthus himself, she
suddenly drew back the crop and brought it quite pointedly right down
with a SMACK! on Bethany’s perfectly formed right nipple.
“YEEEEOWCH!” Bethany cried. I leaped upon her. My legs opened
over her belly and I jammed myself right down onto her indrawn navel and
tummy. It was a concavity, my cleft, upon the concavity of her
bellybutton, but between my clenching thighs she was trapped like a
mouse in a mousetrap, and couldn’t wriggle away.
“YEEEEOOOOCH!” Bethany yelped. Tears sprung to her eyes as
Eveline gave her other small, pretty tit a taste of the crop’s awful
power.
“Oh, yes!” I cried with mischievous glee. “Punish her for
being BAD!” Yet at that moment, as I sat trapping Polly, I had my own
fingers between my legs, and was lustily frigging my slit.
“You are no better!” Eveline said. She stung me with the crop
upon my right nipple and then, before I could even lift my hands to
protect myself, she struck me on my left.
“Oh, Boo! Hoo!” I cried. I threw myself down upon Polly. I
cast my arms protectively round her head and rubbed my belly fiercely
upon hers. Our breasts, stinging madly, pressed together. We rubbed
our wounded nipples together. Yet the points of our breasts were still
hard. They pressed into each other and passed across each other,
sharply, as if to wound ourselves again on our own passion.
We had a good cry. We didn’t dare rub ourselves as we cried,
for Eveline stood over us the whole while, watching our bare wriggling
bodies. Bethany and I hugged each other. We kissed. As the pain in
our nipples subsided we opened our mouths to each other and
French-kissed. When at last I rolled off Bethany, I felt a sense of
relief. I was still hungry in my snatch but, for the moment at least,
the emotions welling up within me had caused my womb to feel less
empty. I lay with my legs apart, looking up at Eveline. Contritely, I
kept my hands far away from my pussy. Tenderly I stroked my injured
nipples. They felt okay, just burning now. Bethany patted hers, said
something incoherent about needing a baby to suck them to make them all
better.
“Both you girls will have plenty to do tonight,” Eveline told
us. “Don’t think this house is a nunnery. Far from it. Now, I expect
you both to be good during the day. I suppose I could whack your hands
or your feet, if you’re bad, but you’ve both got such pretty, small
hands, and such perfect toes and feet, that I’m not fond of the idea of
hurting them. And your breasts are treasures. Please don’t make me
have to punish them again.”
“Yes, Eveline,” Bethany chimed. She looked up a the woman with
warm, open eyes. I think she felt as I did, that we’d been bad and
gotten just what we deserved. Girls like us shouldn’t lie around the
house diddling with our pussies. You’d think we were like those awful
men on the Internet, jacking off all day writing stories! Or, worse
perhaps, like the boys with hard cocks who read them.
“There is one more rule you must learn,” Eveline said. She
smiled, a bit wickedly, I thought, savoring what she must tell us. “I
did not require this before because you were both so new, and there was
so much going on. But things will be more private now. More intimate.
That is what you both wanted, wasn’t it? A place where you could show
yourselves, your fresh, blooming new bodies, and have them admired.
Where you could touch and be touched. Where you could be free to be
young females, not burdened with homework and stupid rules, like not
being late for school, and having to stay late after if you are.”
Eveline twirled her crop in her fingers, using it as a pointer,
it seemed, except it was pointing up at the ceiling. “Here, everything
is physical,” Eveline said. “Like just now. Your disobedience was
sexual in nauture, and so was your punishment. This is how it will
always be here. Any homework you have will be sexually based, and paid
off with sexual services. But always there will be the intimacy, the
tenderness, even if you must be shown a better way than you know. A
more perfect way of acting, more complete, more inspired. Really, I
wish all girls could come here and stay with me! How awful it is that
the world messes up their minds, and deprives them of the very pleasures
they should enjoy!”
Bethany and I stared up at her. It was nice listening to
Eveline’s voice, when she wasn’t angry with us. I couldn’t understand
completely her philosophies, but I did know this: Bethany and I were
better off than girls who lived in drab suburbs, where everyone had to
conform; to silly things, useless things, work and school and even, for
some, going to school. What did graduation from schoo get you? From
elementary school, junior high. From junior high, high school. From
high school, college. From college, you then had to get a professional
degree. That’s if you wanted to make a decent living. And then, of
course, the decent living wasn’t just handed to you. You had to go work
for it. And when you were all done working you were 65-years-old, and
retired.
I did not want to wait that long to taste life. Bethany and I
would taste it here, a little. Then I was sure we would go home, but as
wiser females, knowing the true nature of life. I had no doubt Malthus
would replace us with new girls the first night we were gone.
But for the moment, we were here, and rather enjoying
ourselves, I thought, though sometimes things did get a little tense.
But in the tenseness there was pleasure, a kind of taut pleasure that
erupted out of your womb when it finally came, as if it would split your
legs completely apart and leave your belly and breasts a smoldering
ruin.
“Kiss the crop,” Eveline was saying to me. I hadn’t realized.
I’d become lost in my thoughts, like when I dreamed Malthus cloned me
and killed me every week for his wicked, insane pleasure; killing
himself also when he got too old to continue, then rebirthing himself,
from a cloning vat, without any need of a woman’s womb. I was still
glad I lived in a world where babies, at least for a little while
longer, had to come out between my legs if they were to be born into
this world.
“Kiss the crop,” Eveline said again. She touched my lips with
it.
I cupped my hands over my breasts. Lightly I extended my
tongue. I didn’t like doing this. My nipples still burned from where
the crop, quite impolitely, had kissed me. Yet I offered my lips to it
and planted a kiss on its rigid stem. Then, extending my tongue, I
licked at its hard leather sheath. I don’t know why I did that. But
the leather felt manly, against my tongue. Perhaps I wanted it to be a
cock.
Bethany, a little frightened, kissed the crop after me. Then
Eveline ordered us both to stand.
“Be good, girls,” Eveline said. “I really don’t want to have
to punish you. God knows, you’ll both get plenty of that this evening!”
“Oh, no!” Bethany cried. She took her hands from her breasts
and clapped them behind herself, to her bare bottom. Eveline eyed her
stiff nipples. Immediately Bethany thumped her hands over her bosoms
again, but now her bottom was unprotected!
“It pays to behave, Bethany, doesn’t it?” Eveline said,
noticing how terribly vulnerable the poor 12-year-old was.
“Yes,” Bethany said. Tears sprang from her eyes. But they
rolled down her cheeks silently, only causing her bosoms to heave just a
little, for she was still hungry between her legs, as was I. We stood
with our legs apart, not allowed to close them, and not really wanting
to, either.
Outside it was warm and sunny, and we played in the garden
after lunch. Bethany found a worm in the flower bed. She was afraid of
it, yet studied it like the wriggling small boy’s cock it appeared to me
to resemble. I managed to pick it up.
Bethany shrieked. I chased her with the worm dangling from my
fingertips. She ran round the flower bed once and then, seeing Eveline
at the door, she darted inside. I followed her into the cool of the
house, still holding the worm.
I dropped the worm when I saw Malthus sitting in the parlor.
He was perfectly dressed, in a new suit. Bethany and I were naked.
“Oh, Malthus! Save me! Lisa has a WORM!” Bethany shouted.
Without any affectation of modesty, the girl leapt onto Malthus’s knee.
She straddled it and, no sooner had she mounted him, than she began to
rub her bare pussy against his leg.
I was on Malthus almost as quickly as Bethany. I think the
maid came into the room and picked up the worm, but I didn’t notice, for
I busily rubbed my slit against Malthus’ leg, just as Bethany was
doing. Here, at last, was a man! We were both quite ready for him, I’m
afraid. We were sure that, like some boy in high school, we could
seduce off his pants the minute we showed an interest in him.
However, Malthus was not a mere high school boy. Perhaps
that’s why we teased him so boldly. He regarded us with interest, a
boner popping up between his trousered legs, pushing at his fly. But he
showed no hurry in meeting our demands. Instead, he simply caressed our
long hair. He lifted it in great bunches, as if inspecting woven coils
of gold. Bethany and I, feeling a little frustrated, ground our slits
ever more fiercely against his legs. We were like dogs, panting for our
master. Our bosoms, sharp and hard, bounced playfully on our chests,
inviting his eyes, but not his hands. They kept caressing our long,
waist-length manes of hair.
“How’s Steve?” I asked at length, hoping to tease Malthus. If
he wouldn’t give us what we needed, I was sure Steve would. I began to
think we should have simply taken him home to my bedroom, instead of
letting him bring us all the way down to this strange house in Mexico.
“Steve is getting quite a workout,” Malthus answered. “He’s
not here right now, but perhaps he’ll be back.” He smelled my hair. It
was freshly washed with Suave shampoo and smelled of strawberries.
Bethany had used cherry Suave on her hair.
Malthus let go of our hair. He passed his hands down under our
nude bottoms and palmed their cheeks. Bethany and I kept humping him.
He felt the eagerness of our bottoms as we worked them back and forth,
Bethany and I each sliding our slit up and down one of his legs. We
were beginning to leave visible trails of moisture on his white
trousers.
“Girls,” Malthus said. “Haven’t I instructed Eveline not to
let you play outside in the nude? You’re to be naked indoors, but
outside you must both wear panties, and bras, to protect your private
parts from the sun.” He squeezed one of my bottomcheeks, and both of
Bethany’s, for her ass was smaller than mine and could still be
pleasantly cupped in one of his hands. “Perhaps you would both be more
conscious of your bottoms if you had some marks on them,” Malthus said.
“Then you wouldn’t expose them so willingly to the sun.”
“Noooo!” Bethany breathed. But she put her mouth to Malthus’s
chest and sucked hard at his coat, as if to find sustenance, somehow,
upon it. I put my cheek to Malthus’ chest and felt my bottom swell out
more grandly behind me. His finger diddled within my furrow, found my
hole. I yelped. Bethany gave a cry as Malthus wedged a finger into her
own hiney and touched it against her hole.
“Yes, girls,” Malthus said. Freely he dug at our holes a
little, exploring our virgin bottoms. “I think you both need a little
more training in this matter. Some men are coming. Guests of mine.
Both of you go upstairs and put on your best bikinis. There are some
provided in your dresser, are there not?”
“Yes, Malthus,” Bethany, to my surprise, said, still mouthing
his coat with her lips wide apart. The pressure of her mouth against
her coat muffled her voice. Perhaps she hoped she could agree to his
demand yet muffle her response to the point of inaudibility by putting
her mouth so hard against him.
“I don’t want any men,” I said. I felt Malthus’ finger
exploring just within the aperture of my virgin bottom hole and it felt
strangely wonderful, being so exposed on this man’s leg. I wished he
would make me take the dildo he’d made Steve take up his ass or, better
yet, his considerable cock. I’d seen him displaying it upon the bed the
other night, but had too many men upon me to have it for myself. I
really didn’t want another repitition of that other night. It had been
unique, my first time, but now I wanted something more intimate and
personal.
Malthus had forbidden the men on that other night to have our
bottoms. Now, still virgin there, I was curious to feel what it was
like to be penetrated. I know it was naughty and unladylike, but I
actually jammed myself backward, farther than my humping usually took
me, so that Malthus, caught off guard, found himself embedded in me up
to the first knuckle of his finger.
“Well, I do believe they’re both quite frisky this afternoon,”
Eveline laughed from the doorway. I blushed. I shoved my hips forward
a little. Malthus’ finger escaped my bottom. I felt the warm pressure
of his palm still, however. He patted my naked ass.
“These girls are not to show their privates outdoors,” Malthus
said to Eveline.
“I’m sorry,” Eveline said. Her voice was sheepish, her throat
suddenly sounded tight.
“When you are put in charge of others, it’s not simply for the
purpose of flattering your ego,” Malthus said to Eveline. His voice
sounded stern. I wished to still my hips on his leg, for I was suddenly
scared. But I felt enormously impassioned by his sudden rage and worked
my hips even harder against him! Bethany too, fearing we both might be
punished, seemed compelled by this thought to persuade Malthus to vent
his rage between our legs.
“Go into our bedroom,” Malthus said to Eveline. “Take off the
clothes I’ve bought for you and put them away. Get on our bed and stand
on it, facing the wall. Put the riding crop I equipped you with to keep
these girls in line, and lay it behind you. On the sheets. I want the
bed undone, the covers pulled down, neatly. And I want to find you
standing there, waiting for me. Lock your hands into the manacles we
played with last night, when I tied you up and kissed your bottom. You
won’t be kissed by my lips tonight, not before I’ve retrained you. Do
it now, woman!” Mathus’s shout made Bethany and I duck our heads, it
was so loud and commanding. I felt I’d mounted a lion then, and was
afraid, for I had wet his pants with my love juices.
“Either that, or you’re free to leave. Perhaps I will make one
of these girls mistress instead,” Malthus said with a snarl to Eveline.
I kissed Malthus’ chest. Any other man would fear a woman like
Eveline, especially in America, where a woman could bring down a man
with a mere whisper, especially if she whispered about girls like
Bethany and me, underage girls, ‘minor children.’ Yet here, sitting
throne-like in his chair, Malthus was fearless. He was wanted by the
Mexican police for killing any number of them, but he’d bought of those
who still lived, ensuring his safety. Every day drugs flowed north into
the United States, I’d heard the maid say to the gardener, and Malthus
had a price on his head, put there by our government. He might do hard
time someday, or die in the electric chair, but it wouldn’t be for
fooling around with little Bethany and me. He had too many other crimes
to his name.
Eveline left the room. I heard her walk to the their bedroom
and she shut the door. I kissed Malthus’ chest repeatedly. I rubbed my
slit hard on his leg. I know it sounds stupid, but his power
intoxicated me. Especially when he displayed it so rawly, as now, to
Eveline. I felt small and utterly vulnerable in his presence, yet
somehow safe, as long as I obeyed him. Would he make me mistress of the
house in Eveline’s place? Surely little Bethany couldn’t take on such a
job. She was still afraid of worms.
Malthus lifted my head off my chest. He could have simply
yanked on my hair, but instead he worked his hand down beneath my chin,
cupped it, and lifted my face very gently. He did the same with
Bethany. He looked each of us squarely in the eye.
“I have some very small bikinis I bought in town today,”
Malthus said to us both. “In truth, I didn’t buy them for you. They
were bought for two girls, girls of a friend of mine, who I expect will
visit me this weekend. I expected you both to be gone by this weekend
and it was intended as a gift for them, to get them started, you know,
sexually. But I think I should rather see the two of you in them,”
Malthus said. “Would you like to try on my new bikinis?”
I shuddered. Here I was, wetting this man’s leg with my love
juices, and already he was planning to replace me with someone else.
Yet the very power he had, to swap girls in and out of his life so
easily, made me even more drawn to him. He was so effortless in his
power, so complete, so smoothe and, yes, so deadly too, I feared,
killing men without any second thoughts about it. (For, indeed, if they
had the opportunity, they would kill him with no second thoughts
either.)
“Oh, Malthus! You are so wicked!” I cried. I wriggled my face
from his cupping hand and threw my arms around his neck. I kissed his
cheek hard. It was smooth-shaved, but I could taste his aftershave and
a new growth of beard sprouting just below the shaved skin. Polly,
copying me, tossed her arms about his head and crushed her nude breasts
to his suitcoat. She kissed him as passionately as I, although, being
littler, I don’t think she was as moved by his power. She just didn’t
want me getting ahead of her in loving him, and in seeking his love.
Casually Malthus picked up a cell phone off the table beside
his chair. Letting us kiss him, he dialed a number into the phone. He
used just the thumb of his hand that held the phone, effortless in his
movements, as always.
“Benson? Have Verajick know that the girls are quite ready,”
Malthus said as we continued to kiss him. “Yes, yes, quite. I’m
dressing them right now. Tell him to hurry, or I’ll be quite indisposed
by the time he and Robin and Jake get here. And there won’t be anything
left for them, and I’ll have no apologies. Their money be damned,”
Malthus said.
Was Malthus selling us to other men? I had no idea. I felt,
though, somehow, deep down, that he wouldn’t truly let anything bad
happen to us. This I understood on some unconscious level, down where
my womb was. I couldn’t explain it. It sounds silly, saying it now,
but I just felt, somewhere deep down in my belly, that Malthus would not
let any harm come to us, no matter what happened. Yet the thought of
meeting strange men, men who might be given permission to have their way
with Bethany and me, was frighteningly exciting. I didn’t know what to
do but keep kissing Malthus. But I stilled my hips, for I was, indeed,
angry at him for inviting other men into our intimate affairs.
When Malthus clicked off his phone, and put it down, I lifted
my face from his. His face was large, swarthy, manly. Mine was small
and had youthfully puffy cheeks and an elf-like nose, with wide eyes.
He saw the worry in my eyes.
“Don’t worry,” Malthus said. He lifted my long mane of hair
and caressed it like a father might, though he gazed at my white bosoms
at the same time. “You may find this evening rather... amusing,”
Malthus smiled. “You will find that it is not only the female who has
to experience pain in my house. Do you remember what I did to Steven?”
“Yes,” I said. He looked at my breasts, at my hard nipples, as
he spoke to me. It frightened me, watching him watch the jiggling of my
nude breasts, but I could not get him to lift his eyes again to my face.
“Yes,” Malthus said, rather distractedly. “Anyhow, these men.
I have not met them before. But I know a female doctor in town and
she’s checked them out thoroughly. I would not trouble you with males
who were unsuitable. Or myself, actually. We shall see tonight what
these men are made of, you and I and Bethany. Does that sound pleasant,
or not?”
“Only if you are there,” I said to Malthus. I feared him, yet
his demeanor continued to attract me. Perhaps I was as a moth, drawn to
the flame.
“Can we have some candy at the party?” Bethany asked.
Malthus looked at her. Eveline, no doubt, would have given her
a withering glance, hoping to inspire her to shed her childish ways, but
Malthus, after a pause, laughed indulgently. “You shall be my official
taster,” Malthus said to Bethany. “Do you like popsicles?”
“Mmmm, yes!” Bethany declared. She rubbed her soft belly with
her hand.
“Then you shall have three of them and, if you’re very lucky, a
fourth as well,” Malthus told her. “And you’ll have to taste all of
them. How does that sound?”
“Yummy!” Bethany said. I knew Malthus had something a little
more sinister than actual popsicles in mind, but I said nothing. Let it
be his little trick on her. I guessed, seeing how wet she’d made his
pants leg, that she might actually enjoy it. I knew I would, if she
didn’t. I felt wanton. I wished Malthus would admire my breasts
again.
“Go upstairs, both of you,” Malthus said to us. “Ask the maid
for your swimsuits. They are, ah, rather brief, not quite for swimming,
but they’ll do fine for serving liquor to the men at our party.”
Pulsing with excitement, I raced Bethany upstairs. I knew
Malthus had something utterly wicked in mind with those swimsuits. I
felt like a prisoner awaiting execution. Yet in my dread I felt a sense
of hope, for I knew I wouldn’t awaken in the morning needing to rub
myself on a man’s leg, like some bitch in heat. I would be fulfilled.
I was sure of that.
“This swimsuit is about the size of a postage stamp,” Bethany
whined, as we both stood in our bedroom a half hour later. The maid had
insisted on our bathing before we could have the suits. We were hot and
moist from playing outside, and on Malthus’ legs. We washed each other
in the tub, but the maid watched, making sure we didn’t find too much
pleasure in it. I longed for Eveline, but she was downstairs, awaiting
Malthus’ punishment. After our bath we had to do our own hair, sitting
side by side in front of the vanity mirror. I think Bethany missed
Eveline too. She whispered to me that we should sneak down and see her,
but I told her ‘no,’ there was too much chance Malthus would catch us
and we’d have to join her.
“Well, I suppose this is a rather small bikini,” I agreed with
Bethany. I stood next to the bed, nude, but with my hair done up
perfectly and my eyes and lips properly painted. I examined the small
wad of strings and cloth the maid had placed in my hand. She stood in
the door to our bedroom, supervising. She urged us to hurry, but did
not help us.
I struggled to figure out, first of all, which was the bra and
which was the panty. The bra, certainly, could be identified by the
fact that it had two cups. But the panties were as insidious as I’d
feared. There was no crotch strap between the front panty panel and the
back, just a string. In addition, the ‘bra,’ such as it must be, didn’t
have regular bra cups. There was no form or shape to them. They were
just twin triangles of silk. It was expensive silk, no doubt about
that, from the feel of it. But distinguishing two non-bra cups from two
panty panels connected by only a string was quite difficult. I looked
at Bethany. Had she figured these wicked bikinis out?
“I think you put the bra around your waist,” I advised her. I
was beginning to understand these things, looking at her.
“You mean I’m wearing my bra as my panties?” Bethany asked in
alarm.
“Yes, I think so,” I said. I heard the maid suppress a laugh.
“Ooops! Guess I’ll have to try it the other way,” Bethany
confessed. She blushed. I blushed too, for I was no better off than
she in the attire department. Downstairs, I heard male voices and
realized our guests had arrived. There seemed to be a woman with them.
Finally attired correctly, in our bikinis, Bethany and I
trooped downstairs. We each had been given new heels to match our
bikinis. They were open-toed. In addition, though I didn’t like it at
all, the maid had forced Bethany and I to accept ankle straps and wrist
straps on our limbs. They had rings in them that could be pressed into
each other, locking one wrist strap to the other, or a wrist strap to an
ankle strap, or the one’s ankles together. The maid had also forced us
to accept slim dog’s collars around our throats. These had rings on
them too, and I guessed my wrist straps would click into the collar just
as easily as they would click shut against the straps on my ankles. I
wished the material in the straps could have been used to make our
bikinis bigger.
“Oooh, I can feel it rubbing my spot!” Bethany said in a hushed
voice to me as we descended the stairs. Malthus was sitting in the
living room, close enough to the stairs to see us descend. I saw with a
blush that three handsome young men, and a young woman, were arranged in
chairs around him. All of them were smoking cigars, even the woman, and
there was already a pall of fine tobacco smoke in the room.
“I can feel it too,” I scolded Bethany. They were watching
us. I didn’t want to discuss my cunt with her, not here, on the steps,
in full view of them. But the string meant to attach my panty panels
was rubbing me up between our legs, just as hers was doing. I felt
wet. I wished I could just leave the panties off, rather than endure
the constant rubbing of the string within my most private lips. But
there was no chance of that. Malthus wanted us dressed, sexily, with
our hair pinned up and our eyes and lips sparkling. We were dolled up
for his party and I knew that, for a little while, it would be demanded
that we show off our new bikinis that Malthus had bought us. He seemed
quite proud of them, by the look in his eyes. Why, I have no idea.
They were torture to wear! Perhaps that was the reason he liked them.
“Yes, you look lovely, girls,” Malthus said, when we’d come
down the stairs. We stood before him, figeting, hoping for once in our
lives that we could undress in front of strangers. The men gazed at us
nonchalantly, but there was fire in their eyes. I glanced at their
crotches and saw their passion was already visible there.
The woman seemed mysterious. She had blonde hair, like me, but
she was older, perhaps 20. She wore a blouse and a loose, slim bow-tie
that was tied round her neck but flopped down onto her chest. Her
bosoms filled her blouse. I guessed any bra she’d worn had already been
removed, for her breasts moved easily under her blouse whenever she
puffed on her cigar.
The woman drew a small cap off her head. Much of her blonde
hair had been piled underneath the cap and, with a quick shake of her
head, it tumbled down round her face.
“May they dance?” the woman asked Malthus. She looked at him.
“I should like to see them both dance.”
“Put on your favorite CD then,” Malthus replied. He gestured
at the CD player not far from where they sat. It was connected to four
giant speakers. “And,” he added. “Since you have made a request of me,
and I’ve honored it, do me a favor. Show us your considerable bosom, so
that we might get things underway more quickly.”
The woman placed her cigar neatly into an ashtray beside her
chair. With a single tug she undid her floppy bow tie. She turned and
draped it backwards around Malthus’ neck, so that it pressed to the
front of his throat, the ends dangling down his back. Malthus laughed.
He removed the tie and put it into the ash tray next, in a small pile,
next to the burning cigar. Ash from the burning cigar fell upon it.
The woman grinned. She had pretty white teeth. She began
unbuttoning her blouse. Bethany and I watched, curious as the others to
see her disrobe. She had fine large bosoms and as she undid her blouse
they expanded into our view. At last she drew open her blouse and they
spilled out. They were mother’s bosoms, large and full, as if with
milk. They were perfectly white and I could spot, vaguely, a network of
veins softly running under the skin, all of them running down to her
nipples, which poked up from her bosoms quite lustily. I remembered
Eveline’s crop on the breasts of Bethany and myself and wished,
wickedly, that I could smack this woman’s fine, enviable breasts with
it.
“Hers are even bigger than yours!” Bethany said to me. I
cupped mine defensively, in response.
“She’s older,” I said softly.
“What perfect breasts the two of you have,” the woman said to
us. She pulled her blouse off. She looked at Malthus. “May they show
theirs?”
Malthus laughed. “We shall be quite well underway if they do,”
he said. One of the men fingered his zipper. He pulled it partly
open. Then, seeing the others handn’t followed his lead, he stopped.
But he left his zipper open. He did not bother to close it again. His
underpants bulged up between the opened portion of his zipper, forced up
by his cock.
Bethany gazed at the man’s open zipper and reached back for the
string that held up her bra. Without waiting for Malthus’ permission,
she untied her bra. Her cups popped off her breasts, for our bras were
small and too tight for us. As her bosoms wobbled freely before the
men’s eyes, she looked at the man with the opened zipper.
“My boobies aren’t big enough,” she said bashfully to the man,
gazing not at his face but, rather contritely, at his opened fly.
“How old are you?” the man asked her. His voice was rather
stern. It made me shiver.
Bethany gulped. “I’m 12,” she said. She reached behind
herself and straightened her panties. The panels had slipped into our
bottomcracks as we descended the stairs. I reached back and fixed mine
as well, glad that my boobs were still covered, for in reaching back, I
seemed to thrust them out in front of me, as if to ask for attention.
“Come here,” the man said to Bethany. She gulped again, then
wandered over to him. She perched herself shyly on the edge of his
knee.
The man stroked Bethany’s long mane of hair. Then he patted
her shoulders, feeling their frailness, as if to test them. Suddenly he
yanked her arms back behind her and clipped her wrists together. I
gasped, it was done so fast.
“Have your panties ever been used for an ashtray?” the man
asked Bethany. She looked straight at me, wide-eyed, as if to say, ‘I
goofed.’ She shivered. Her small bosoms shook their lovely hard tips.
Bethany was too scared to speak. Suavely the man drew open the
dimunitive panel that formed the front of her panties. He gazed down
into the opening, at her pussy curls. Then he drew his cigar over her
panties and shook it.
“Oooh! Please don’t!” Bethany grimaced. Hot ash sprinkled off
the end of the man’s cigar, into the front of her swimsuit. I clapped
my hands to my cunt, watching, for fear I might be used in a similar
way. I knew that ash could be very hot!
“Jake,” Malthus said. He waved his cigar at the man. “She is
growing in my estimation by the hour. Don’t abuse her.”
Jake frowned, said nothing. I went to Malthus and sat on his
lap, lest some other man claim me instead.
Malthus looked at the woman who’d discarded her blouse. It lay
over the arm of her chair, neatly folded. “Amber, go turn on some
music,” Malthus said to the woman. “They must have music to dance.”
The woman rose. She turned and, with sexily swaying hips, she
made her way to the stereo. Her skirt was short. It swished back and
forth as she walked.
“Eeeek!” Bethany cried. I shot my head from the woman, on one
side of me, to Bethany, on the other. The awful man in who’s lap she
was sitting had pulled open the front of her panties and was burning a
hole in them with his cigar!
I wanted to scream, watching poor Bethany. She was sitting
very straight and still, her tummy indrawn, her nipples delicate and
hard, as the man, with his cigar, burned a hole in her panties. The
delicate silk was burned entirely through and, when he had finished, he
began burning another hole. Malthus said nothing. The woman turned on
the stereo. As I watched, too frightened to speak, the man, ‘Jake,’
burned holes lower and lower in Bethany’s panties. He burned three in
all. He burnt the third very close to where her clit lay buried between
her lips.
“Stand up. Dance for me,” Amber said. I turned from Bethany
and looked at her. Malthus gave my ass a bump with his knee and I was
forced to rise up from it. The woman took my shoulders, gripping them
tight, and turned me around. I was forced to stand still as she undid
my bra. When she had, my breasts tumbled from my too-small cups and
hung shivering in the air. My nipples were exquisitely hard, yet I
feared some brutish man might put a cigar to them! I trembled. The
woman tossed my bra to a man who caught it. Immediately, as I watched
with frightened eyes, he began burning holes in my little bra’s cups.
“Dance,” Amber told me. She dropped her hands to my hips. She
forced them to sway, gripping them and moving them back and forth. I
gasped. The string between my legs made me blush, it rubbed me so. I
cupped my breasts with my hands, to hide my nipples, but Amber batted my
hands away. “Put them in your panties if you must do something with
them,” she said. As if to instruct me, she took one of my hands and
slipped it into the front of my swimsuit. I felt the tight curls of my
bush. My pussy lips, though, were outside my suit, for the front panel
ended in a string that threaded itself between the lips of my cunt.
Amber caught my other hand. She made me put it into my
panties, just as she’d done with the first. With both hands inside my
panties, which were quite small to begin with, my panties were forced to
unthread themselves from my cunt. I found I could touch my clit with my
finger, and I did.
“Ooooohhh!” I breathed. I threw my head back. It felt
delicious, being able to touch myself, after so many hours of waiting.
Yet I blushed fiercely as I did it, for three pair of strange male eyes
were watching my every move.
“Take your hands out of your panties and serve us liquor!”
Malthus said angrily to me. Had I been too forward? I ceased swaying
my hips, though the music continued. I drew my wet fingers out of my
panties. The thread between the front and back panels insinuated itself
between my legs again.
Malthus looked at Amber. “I have to beat Eveline, and I want
to be well-sloshed when I do it.”
“You’ll be hard on her, if you’re drunk,” Amber said to him.
“Yes, well, she’s too beautiful to beat sober,” Malthus said.
He frowned. “I’m finding I love her. And these two--I can barely watch
them handled by others. I must be getting old.”
“Perhaps you are,” Amber answered. She was no older than 20.
I guessed she held life lightly still. I knew I must have, for
otherwise I should certainly have gone shooting out of that awful house,
where I was alternately forced to serve liquor, and to frig myself,
while poor little Bethany had holes burnt into her panties.
“Ahhh, I love to hear a woman scream,” a man, sitting beside
Malthus, said. He exhaled a long plume of smoke from his mouth as I
went scurrying across the room to the wet bar to fetch drinks for them
all.
“Yes, there is a certain delight in it, is there not?” Malthus
said. “Complete supremacy of the male ego, eh? Nothing better than
that. A woman screaming, begging for mercy, and one such as myself in
complete control of her every response. I fear I must unzip myself,
just thinking about it.”
“Yes,” the other man agreed. I heard a chorus of zippers being
undone.
“Jake, unzip your pecker, old boy,” one of them called.
I stole a glance over my shoulder. I coudn’t help it. It was
wicked, I knew, to look on purpose, but the three of them had such big
bulges in their pants, I knew it must be quite a sight to see them
undone.
And it was! Even little Bethany, scared stiff from having
holes burnt in her panties, couldn’t help gasping in admiration. Three
mammoth cocks presented themselves, each one like a big lodgepole
sticking up out of the man’s pants. Amber, worldly as she was, had a
smile, I saw, and was absently fingering her breasts. I knew I wouldn’t
awaken in the morning, feeling at a loss for male attention, as I’d
awakened this morning. Indeed, I would probably be quite sore by then,
and desperately in need of some sleep!
“So, uh, Verajick, who do you think will win the Superbowl this
year?” the man in the middle asked. He looked to the man to his left.
He was the youngest of the three, perhaps only 20, and he seemed nervous
to be on display as he now was. Hearing him address the other man,
staring at all three of them, I was now able to sort out their names.
The man to the left, who had a growth of beard stubbly and full enough
to resemble a goatee, was named Verajick. He seemed to be Russian,
although he spoke perfect English. He was on the slim side while Jack,
the farthest to the right, was the hulkiest, though all three had
well-hung bodies, varying across a spectrum of excellence rather than
being too much or too little of one thing. But I didn’t like Jack. He
seemed surly and mean and I wondered how little Bethany would fare if,
as was presently the case, sitting on his lap, she was forced to endure
the whole night with him. I wondered if I should try offering myself to
Jack, if it became absolutely necessary, in order to save her. But he
scared me so much that I couldn’t bring myself to make the resolution.
I reminded myself of my earlier speculation, that no harm would come to
us, that Malthus simply loved us too much for that to happen. I
wondered if it were true. I hoped it was. But he’d never made me any
guarantees.
Jack put his cigar back into his mouth. He puffed on it. “I
want to get drunk,” he said to Malthus. Jack cast a quick glance at
me. I was standing stock still, staring at all the men’s cocks.
“Not yet,” Malthus said to Jack. He smiled. “I want you awake
for what I have planned for your penis first.”
“I would smash your face for saying that to me, if you were
anyone other than who you are,” Jack said angrily to Malthus.
“But I am who I am...” Malthus said.
“I have to itch my nose,” Bethany announced.
“Untie her,” Malthus said to Jack. The man glared at him.
Bethany wiggled her nose, wishing she could scratch it.
“I didn’t say you had to push her off your knee, just undo her
hands so she can itch her nose,” Malthus said.
Jack put down his cigar. Angrily he unlinked Bethany’s hands.
She was so surprised by his roughness that, for a moment, she left her
hands behind her. Then, finally, she slipped a finger round to her
front and put it to her nose and scratched it.
“Now give me your hands back,” Jack ordered.
“No! My nose might itch again,” Bethany said quietly. Jack
seemed about to do something awful to her, perhaps even break her in
two. But then he relented and occupied himself once more with puffing
on his cigar. I felt my breath slowly ease out of my chest. I don’t
know what I would have done, if I’d had to leap to Bethany’s defense.
Was there anything I could do, with all these big hard men in the room?
Malthus called to Amber. She was standing in front of the CD
player, facing it, wiggling her ass in time to the music.
Amber turned. She smiled at Malthus. Then she let her gaze
drift to the other men too. She ran her toungue across her upper lip,
admiring their cocks. She walked back to the men. She let her hips
sway in time to the music as she walked. The group she’d put on was the
Mighty BossTones. Amber’s breasts bounced as the trombone in the song
played a jaunty tune. She was not modest like Bethany and I. She
stopped before Malthus, smiled, and reached beneath her dress. Bending
her knees, she swept her panties down off her hips in a single motion.
They were small panties, almost a G-string, yet apparently they were too
much for her, in her heated state, to wear.
Amber displayed her miniscule panties to Malthus. She let them
dangle from a single finger.
“What should I do with these, sir?” Amber asked Malthus.
“Put them in your mouth,” Malthus replied. Amber giggled but
promptly obeyed. As I watched her pop her panties into her mouth I felt
angry. Was I to be like that? A little whore, doing whatever was asked
of me, begging to be used in the most indecent of ways?
Staring at the men’s cocks, I argued silently with myself over
my behavior. Surely I should insist on leaving now, shouldn’t I? This
was awful, letting myself be made up, then forced to wear slinky panties
that rubbed my pussy and made it wet. But it was too late. I couldn’t
find the guts to reprimand myself. The crotchstrap of my panties burned
between my legs, making me want to rub myself. My nipples stuck up
excitedly from my bosoms. I was dry-mouthed, but my palms and pussy
were wet. I wanted, in my head, to back out of this wicked party, but
the evil Malthus had prepared me so exquisitely that now, against my
better nature, I could only think of having myself stuffed by one of
those wonderful cocks the men displayed to my eyes.
Amber settled onto Malthus’ knee. He reached out and clasped
her waist. It was small. His hands were large. He drew her back, over
his rigid cock. She lifted the back of her skirt to accomodate him.
She gasped as she felt his prong wedge under her bottom. Malthus had to
put his hand between his legs in order to lower his stiff erection so
that it would lodge up underneath her, within the furrow of her fanny.
When he had gotten her pleasantly seated on his dick he lifted both his
hands again. This time, he didn’t grasp her waist. He put his hands to
her bare bosoms. He fondled them.
“Your nipples, they should be pierced,” Malthus said to Amber.
His voice was low and suave. He sounded like a gentleman suggesting a
dinner-time date.
Amber tossed her blonde hair. “I know,” she said. Her voice
sounded matter-of-fact. The panties in her mouth obscured her speech
but they were so small she could still speak if she wished to. Amber
looked down at her tits. Malthus squeezed both of them, hard, extruding
the tender flesh between his gripping fingers. Amber lifted her chin
and gasped over the panties wadded within her mouth. Yet, though she
lifted her hands, she did not try to take Malthus’ hands off her.
The men talked about football. They smoked their cigars as
nonchalantly as four men in a stadium. Yet their dicks stood up like
flagposts. Communists could have hung their big banners from the men’s
pricks, they were so large. Or at least it seemed so. I stared at the
men’s equipment, and found msyelf licking my lips. Absently I put my
hands in my panties. Without even realizing it, I eased the panty
thread from between my labial lips and began to rub my slit. It was
wet, and my fingers moved easily within it. I shivered and uttered a
soft gasp. Malthus was talking and his voice obscured it. When I
realized what I was doing with myself I scolded myself, silently, but I
couldn’t bear to remove my fingers. I watched the men and kept fiddling
my fingertips across the little magical spot wedged up high in my
cuntlips.
Bethany, much closer to the men than I, crossed her knees. She
had a worried look on her face. Jack had taken to stroking her hair
where it fell, loosely, from her coiffure. We had purposely done up our
hair so that it would come apart easily. It was more tempting that way,
and required less work to prepare. Yet now, gazing at Bethany’s face, I
knew she wished she’d taken more time to fix up her hair. The last
thing I wanted to do was tempt Jack. I knew she must feel the same
revulsion toward him as I did.
I looked at Bethany’s knees. They were little-girl knees, a
bit bony. But they were set on legs that were breathtakingly long.
Bethany tossed her hair, trying to free it from Jack. Jack blew smoke
across the back of her neck. Bethany’s hands fluttered. They looked
like butterflies, wishing to alight someplace, but too frightened to.
She tightened her thighs.
“Whoa, what are you doing, little lady?” Jack asked. He
reached around Bethany’s hips, clenching his cigar in his mouth. He
grasped her slim thighs. Easily, though Bethany tried to keep her legs
tightly together, he lifted her thighs apart. Jack opened Bethany’s
legs very wide. Bethany let out a small shout. She watched as Jack
pulled her legs apart to the distance of a cheerleader’s split. Then
Jack let go of her legs. “Keep them that way,” he told her, gruffly.
Bethany looked at me. She was too scared to disobey. She sat
awkwardly, her feet dangling down from Jack’s lap, her legs pulled open
to their limit. Her tight pussy hairs sprouted through the holes Jack
had burnt in her undies.
Malthus, pinching Amber’s nipples, making her twist on his knee
and utter small yelps, looked at me. “Don’t just stand there,” he
said. “Mix us drinks.”
“I-I don’t know how,” I confessed. I knew nothing about making
bar drinks. I was only 13.
“There’s a book, behind the counter,” Malthus said. “Read it.
Follow the directions.”
I drew my hands from my panties. I reached behind myself,
fixed my panty panel in back, where it had once again slipped completely
into my asscrack, leaving my cheeks hanging out. I turned and went
behind the bar. I looked for the book.
“It’s small, and red,” Malthus said. He turned to Verajick.
“Go and whip Eveline,” he said. “I cannot do it. I love her too much.
And anyway I’m busy,” he added. Amber smiled, despite the painful
pinches he was giving her teats. She shifted her fanny on his cock.
Verajick rose. I watched him, mouselike, from behind the
countertop of the bar. His cock waggled as he rose. He undid his
trousers, drawing off his belt. It had a silver buckle. His pants
slipped down and he stepped from them. He pulled down his underpants.
“Don’t fuck her. Just a whipping,” Malthus said.
“Okay,” Verajick replied. He did not bother to remove his
shirt or his coat. He walked from the room, swinging his belt. I
wished I could see his ass but, though it was bare, the tail of his
shirt and his coat blocked it.
“Oh no, please!” I heard Eveline cry from the bedroom. There
was a pause, silence. We all listened. I pretended to find the book
and read it but instead I listened intently. I guessed in the silence
Verajick must be finishing the process of manacling Eveline to the
wall. I doubted she had been able to lock both her wrists into the
cuffs. One must have dangled free, and now Verajick was binding it into
place.
Suddenly there was a shriek. Simultaneously I heard the crack
of Verajick’s belt. I cringed. Bethany, sitting with her legs wide
apart, clapped her hands to her bottom. I felt a tingling across the
surface of my own heinie and remembered how it had been beaten by
Brendan. Now I felt sure I’d never see him again, yet he had taken his
pleasure upon my poor bottom only two nights ago.
Huddling behind the bar, I listened as the screaming
continued. Why didn’t he gag her, I wondered? Everyone in the house
could hear, even the servants. Yet he did not, for Eveline gave one
throaty cry after another, each time the belt cracked. Inbetween she
sobbed, and begged, like a child, a novice. I heard Verajick laugh as a
particularly sharp report of his belt echoed down the hall. It was a
fine leather belt, with a fine buckle, but it was meant for a man’s
waist, not a woman’s bottom! I felt very sorry for Eveline. But what
could I do? Bethany began to sob a little. Her tears sprinkled her
breasts. Jack, surprisingly, patted her back, as if to console her.
She flinched. I thought he would force her to take her hands from her
bottom, but he did not. He whispered something in her ear. It must
have consoled her. She cried a little less but then, when Eveline
screamed again, she turned and bluted to Jack, “But I’m crying for HER,
even if you won’t punish me!”
“She is a grown woman,” Malthus said. “Anyway, Jack’s a liar.”
“Oh, Boo! Hoo!” Bethany wailed. She would, I think, have
darted from Jack’s knee then, but he put his hand round her waist and
cupped her cunt and snarled at her to stay put. Worriedly she looked at
me. I felt tears forming in my eyes. There was nothing I could do, for
either of us, least of all for Eveline. I busied myself behind the bar,
pretending to look for the book, but still listening as the leather
cracks and the female screams continued.
“Robin, I see you are uncircumcised,” Malthus said to the young
man who sat next to Jack. Robin nodded. “It will be more difficult for
you then, I’m afraid, when I put you and the other two to the test,” he
said.
“What- what is the test to be?” Robin asked. Though his cock
stuck up firmly there was a tremulousness to his voice. I found I liked
him best. He reminded me most of Steven. I wished I could rush over to
his cock and stuff it inside myself and keep it up me, away from
Malthus’ gaze forever. I stroked the insides of my thighs, watching
him. But a scream from Eveline kept me from rubbing my clitty again.
I found the book. I read it and mixed drinks. I did my best,
mixing some coke and scotch and gin. I prepared four drinks and put a
twist of lime in each. I tried to keep the drinks a bit watery so the
men wouldn’t get drunk and become wicked with us. Yet, listening to
Eveline’s cries, I feared they were wicked without any spirits in them.
I came out from behind the bar. I carried the first of the
drinks. I decided to serve it to Malthus, and hope somehow I could
avoid serving the other two men at all. I didn’t even want to get close
to them. I longed to save Robin’s cock from whatever Malthus had
planned for it, but at the same time I feared him, and especially Jack.
I was torn between my pussy and my brain. I fingered the hem of my
briefs, under my navel, as I approached Malthus. I wished my panties’
crotch strip would quit rubbing my clit. I wanted to yank my panties
off, to stop the awful rubbing when I walked, but I could do nothing
without Malthus’ permission. And my panties were all that came between
me and the men’s intentions.
“Ah, you’ve managed to mix up a drink,” Malthus said to me as
Eveline, in the room beyond, begged for her whipping to stop.
I handed the drink to Malthus.
“No--” he said to me. “Pour it in your panties.”
“What?!” I shouted. My voice was high-pitched.
“You heard me,” Malthus said. Eveline shrieked as the sound of
a cane striking bare flesh replaced the sound of the belt.
I opened my panties. I was too scared to argue. With Bethany
watching, I poured the drink I’d so carefully mixed into my undies. I
gasped. The liquor overflowed my panty panel and ran down my thighs.
Somehow, despite the crotch thread between my legs, the liquor managed
to wet my clit. The alcohol in it burned my sensitive flesh. My wet
bush showed easily to their eyes. My panties were too brief to concel
it with the front panel pulled forward.
“Bring another drink,” Malthus said when the liquor had run
completely down my thighs, leaving a trails of hot, sensitized flesh its
wake. I turned. My panties had bunched in my bottomcrack and as I
walked quickly from him I reached behind myself.
“Do not fix them,” Malthus ordered me. I shivered. I took my
hands from my bottom and was forced to walk back to the bar with my ass
showing itself completely, except for the deepest part of my cleft,
where my undies hid what little space on my ass remained to the
imagination. As I felt my hinds wobbling behind me I blushed. It was
so awful, being made to show myself, especially to Amber and Jack and
Robin. Yet I could do nothing, nothing! I felt the leather wristlets
on my wrists and knew things were only going to get worse.
Should I run? I could not. Malthus would catch me, or Robin,
or Jack, and my fate would only be more difficult to bear after that. I
looked at Malthus from behind the safety of the bar. He was taunting
Amber’s nipples with his fingers again, making her grit her teeth. She
seemed bothered now by his pinching, for he’d been doing it to her quite
awhile. Yet she obediently kept her silence, her panties in her mouth,
and she kept her legs apart, lest he should wish to molest her cunt.
“Bethany, come here,” Malthus ordered. I glanced at my
friend. She jumped from Jack’s knee. She was glad to be rid of her
awful perch. She clapped her hands to her bottom as she scampered away
from him. She dashed on tip-toe over to Malthus. I wondered if she
were simply going from one frying pan to another.
Verajick returned. He swung his belt loosely in his fist. His
cock stood up stiffly in front of him, lifting the front of his shirt.
His penis jutted out in front of him at least a foot, wobbling as he
walked. I wondered how I’d ever get such a monster up me if he got
permission from Malthus to fuck me.
“Your dick looks red. Have you been rubbing it?” Malthus asked
Verajick. The young man sat down next to Malthus with a heavy plop of
his ass. He sat back in the sofa, opened his legs.
“Of course,” Verajick answered.
“It’s going to be a lot redder sooner,” Malthus told him.
“Say what you like. I can take anything you throw at me,”
Verajick said. He put his fist to his dick.
“No,” Amber cautioned. She extended her hand. The undies in
her mouth made her speech sound strange, muffled, as if she wore a loose
gag. “You mustn’t,” she said. “You’re going to have a terrible time
keeping your seed in as it is. You shouldn’t have excited yourself in
the bedroom.”
“How is she?” Malthus asked Verajick. The man looked from
Amber, with her hand outstretched, her fingers hovering over his penis,
to Malthus.
“Oh. Your whore is fine,” Verajick replied. “Nothing a month
won’t heal. I didn’t draw.”
I suspected Verajick was speaking of blood. I felt my arms
trembling. I picked up two drinks. Perhaps getting them all sloshed
might allow me to escape, I told myself. I was certain I didn’t want to
be here anymore. I walked out from behind the bar. My panties felt wet
against my mount. My crotch thread, wet now with alcohol, burned and
diddled my spot more excruciatingly than ever. As I neared Malthus, the
drinks sloshing in my trembling hands, my bosoms bouncing, my cunny
complaining, I felt again the wish to be fucked, and I knew I was
doomed. There’s no escape for a bad girl who wants it, even if the door
is standing wide open.
Bethany stood with her hands behind herself, adjusting her
panties.
“Pull them down,” Malthus told her.
“Waht?” Bethany said.
“You heard me. Yank down your panties,” Malthus repeated. He
glanced at me. Silently he gestured with his eyes that I should splash
the liquor on Bethany’s bottom. I hated him, yet I stepped behind
Bethany.
My friend, not wishing to expose her bush, though her undies
were practically burned off her in front, yanked down just the rear of
her panties. This was sufficient for me. I splashed both my glasses of
liquor right on her bottom.
“Oh!” Bethany cried. The liquor stung her flesh, just as it
had done to me. Bethany turned, wide-eyed, gaped at me. I couldn’t
help smiling. The look on her face was delicious. So surprised, so put
out, yet here we were both topless, wearing bracelets round our wrists
and ankles, to make us easy to subdue, and teensy, sinful panties.
“Ohhhhh, YOU!” Bethany shouted. She jumped at me. I dropped
the empty liquor glasses. Fortunately the rug was thick, and they fell
without breaking. Bethany caught at my wrists. I struggled with her,
she with me. She tried to bite one of my nipples when she found she
couldn’t claw me.
“My, they’re fiesty,” Robin said.
“They are young,” Amber replied, dismissively.
“Girls! Both of you take your panties off and lie down on the
rug,” Malthus ordered.
We stopped fighting. With a frightened glance at the men, our
limbs shaking from our exertion, we stripped off our panties. I was
glad to be free of mine. They were too much of a nuisence. Yet now,
stepping out of them, I realized that I had nothing to ease the
excitement of my clit. I would have to rub myself with my finger if I
wished to tantalize it now. Yet I didn’t wish to tantalize it, but it
buzzed and begged and I almost, getting my panties off, put my finger
right into myself so I could frig my clit. I stopped only because I saw
Jack staring at me. He would like that, wouldn’t he? Nothing could
more surely signal my availablility for his cock than the sight of me
wiggling my finger inside my cunny. Bethany too felt the need, yet
somehow restrained her hand. We dropped to the rug. We were like
rabbits, trying to escape the hunter. Our hair was mostly undone now
and it hung down round our eyes. I wished I could escape behind it.
“Lie back, girls,” Malthus said. “Oh, it is no good. Go to
the closet and get them a sheet and a big pillow to share,” he said to
Amber. He shoved her off his lap. Her bottom must have warmed his
penis for he looked even bigger now than he’d been when she sat down on
it.
Standing up, Amber cupped her breasts. Malthus had tormented
them rather badly and she held them a moment, as if to console her poor
nipples. Then she turned and, with a flouncing step, walked sexily from
the room. In a moment she was back with a pillow for our heads and, as
she explained, to Malthus’ delight, a pillow for our hips as well.
I was forced to take the sheet from her. Bethany and I
unfolded it and laid it upon the floor. In the bedroom Eveline could be
heard, sobbing now, quietly. She called out for Malthus. He told
Verajick to whip her if she spoke again.
“She is to cry only, not to speak,” Malthus muttered. “I feel
like some doctor managing a ward of patients when she does that.”
“You have two little patients right here, doctor,” Amber said.
All knees and bent legs, Bethany and I got down onto the unfolded
sheet. We arranged ourselves on our backs. We looked up at Malthus
and, with a sudden guilty giggle from Bethany, we opened our legs.
“There it is, men! Heaven’s gate!” Malthus crowed to the three
men sitting with him.
“You’re all perverts,” Amber said. She knelt and arranged our
hips so that Bethany and I were properly placed over the pillow. It
felt cool and smooth against my warm bottom. Bethany, I feared, was
making our pillow a little wet with her ass, for it still glistened from
the liquor I’d splashed on it.
The men undressed. They took everything off but their shoes.
They piled their clothes on a nearby chair and then all sat back down.
I was amazed at their restraint. Yet, despite Jack’s surliness, despite
Verajick’s similarity, in my mind, at least, to a Russian Mafia hit man,
they remained civilized. They smoked their cigars. I giggled, looking
at them. They looked like fags giving their cigars blow jobs.
“You said we could have candy,” Bethany frowned. She looked at
Malthus with her big eyes. She suspected, as I did, that we were only
moments away from a rutting finale to our ‘party.’
“Ah, yes. You are our official popsicle taster, aren’t you?”
Malthus chuckled. “Well, there are your popsicles. Why haven’t you
been busy deep-throating them? I’m sure the men would enjoy it. Get
up, girl!”
“You TWICKED me!” Bethany said. She pouted. She closed her
legs but didn’t get up. She crossed her arms over her bosoms.
“Open your legs this instant!” Amber warned. She looked
angry. She plucked her panties from her mouth to speak to Bethany.
Immediately, Bethany reopened her legs. She uncrossed her arms.
“Yes, that’s better,” Malthus agreed, looking at her.
“Bethany, you will indeed taste popsicles, but you’ll do it with your
twat. Rub yourself so you’re ready when the popsicles are served.”
“Oh!” Bethany declared. I know I felt insulted, and I guessed
she did to. Were we just to be left like this? It seemed we were not
to be fucked right away after all.
“Diddle your slit,” Amber said. She was standing now. She
tossed her panties down onto Bethany’s face.
“Oook!” Bethany yelped. She took the panties off her face.
But she was already rubbing herself with her finger, and instead of
trying to claim the panties for herself she simply tossed them back over
her shoulder. I found I was frigging myself too, just as quickly and
eagerly as she. We were undone, both of us. If they wished to cook us
for dinner we would probably have gone and fetched ketchup for them, we
were both so hungry for cock.
Oh, how wicked we were! I tossed my head back, still peeping
through slitted eyes at the men’s fine cocks, and stroked my cunny with
a light fingertip. I let out a gasp of pleasure. Bethany moaned beside
me.
“Yes, have as many orgasms as you please, girls,” Amber said to
us. “It will keep the men inspired, for what they have to endure.”
Amber reached back and unzipped her skirt. It dropped down her
lovely thighs and landed amidst her ankles. She stepped out of it,
wearing heels like Bethany and I still did. We were a man’s dream now,
nude save for heels, Bethany and I lying with legs splayed apart on the
floor. Amber tossed back her long hair and smiled at the men. “You
will enjoy this, men,” she said. “Just keep your eyes on the girls.
The winner will get to fuck both of them, when he recovers.” Her words
were like magic to me. I coudn’t imagine what awful torture Malthus had
planned for the men’s penises, but I was dying to know. I frigged my
slit freely and felt it wetten for a hoped-for impalement. Beside me,
Bethany closed her eyes and seemed to be in some kind of erotic
reverie. Her flat tummy rippled. Her bosoms offered twin peaks, stiff
with desire, for whomever might wish to suck them. Mine were equally
blissful. I prayed I did not embarrass myself in front of Amber and the
men by having an orgasm, yet I couldn’t stop masturbating. An awful
word, but it describes perfectly what we were doing. Even Amber,
watching us, passed her finger several times within her slit. The men
stared. I gazed back at them. My eyes became glazed. I stared at
their balls. Each man sat with his legs apart and his balls, heavy with
sperm, looked like a big ripe squash. Unconsciously the men had shifted
their hips forward, right to the edge of the sofa, offering their cocks
to Amber and Bethany and me. At the same time they all leaned back,
resting their heads on the chairbacks. I saw their hands lift and
fall. They wanted to rub themselves but it was forbidden. Only Bethany
and I could masturbate.
“All of you, I trust, have gone the requested two weeks without
an ejaculation?” Amber asked. She seemed to be in command now. I was
too busy diddling myself to care, but the men, everyone, seemed to
accept her command and let her proceed as she wished.
The men nodded in answer to Amber’s question. Robin, shifting
his hips forward even more, dropped his testicles off the edge of the
couch. They hung with promise in the air. They were tight, full,
round. I wanted to leap up and milk them until they were long and
droopy.
“Yes, yes, yes,” the men each answered, like some obscene boy’s
choir. They had come for this, whatever it was, though I suspected they
themselves didn’t know what Malthus had in store for them. Amber rubbed
her slit again and told the men she’d return in a minute.
“Malthus, you may play with your cock if you wish,” she said.
Her voice was high, sweet. She was excited. She seemed less bitchy now
that the affair was underway. “And I may too, boys. And little Bethany
and her friend Lisa, they may play with themselves, and cum as often as
they wish! But you men mustn’t touch yourselves, or you’ll be
disqualified. Okay?”
A chorus of groans erupted from the men.
“For God’s sake, woman, hurry!” Jake swore.
“Yes, Jake, I will hurry, but you’ll be sorry for it in a few
minutes,” Amber answered. She seemed genuinely delighted to be able to
taunt the men like this, and I was going crazy trying to figure out what
she had planned for them. Beside me, Bethany shouted out a first
orgasm. I was right behind her, rubbing myself frantically. My slit
felt ridiculously wet. I don’t think I’d ever been as aroused,
certainly not diddling myself at home in my bedroom, late at night, as a
virgin. What a treat it was to be here, even if it was scary!
My tummy burst. I saw stars. They came between me and the
glorious cocks the men were displaying. Somewhere, Amber laughed. I
heard a man groan. She told them to keep their penises stiff for her
while she was preparing their ordeal. Verajick told her it was an
ordeal just to wait for her. Jack told her again to hurry. Malthus
warned Robin that he must not rub his cock.
As Bethany and I screamed out our orgasms, Amber returned with
a bowl. I heard a sloshing within it. Amber spoke to the men, setting
the bowl down on the rug.
“Men, this is warm, soapy water. It’s for your penises after
your torture. I’ll wash your cocks myself, with my fingers, to make
sure they’re okay. Hopefully you won’t cum. That’s why I don’t want
you rubbing yourselves. I’m going to be doing a lot of rubbing for
you.” She giggled. “In addition,” she said. “You can see I have here
in my hand a bottle of taco sauce.”
“God, if we have to eat first I’m just going to jerk off right
now!” Jack complained.
“Hurry up, woman, we don’t want any dinner, unless it’s your
cunt,” Verajick said.
“Robin, don’t rub your dick,” Malthus warned again.
“Yes, sir, but it-- I feel like I have to shoot!” Robin said.
“That’s another good point,” Amber said. “Do any of you men
have to pee? You woulnd’t want your peeholes to open once we’ve
started. There’s going to be pain enough for you as it is, without
that!”
“Yeah, I have to go,” Robin said. His voice sounded tortured.
“Fine. You can pee right into my mouth,” Amber said. “Stop
the flow when I squeeze your dick with my hands. I can only take so
much.”
“What?!” Robin asked. But the woman, as best I could see, for
I was still madly frigging myself, knelt down in front of my favorite
guy. She popped his cockhead into her mouth. She looked, for all the
world, like she was putting a gasoline pump at a service station into
her mouth. She held his big penis in her small fingers and drew on it,
as if to urge him to pump something into her wet rosebud mouth.
“Mmmmff,” Robin groaned. I saw him shut his eyes.
“Pee, not sperm, Robin,” Malthus said.
“Yes, sir,” Robin said. He shuddered. He pissed in Amber’s
mouth and when her cheeks were full she stopped him by squeezing his big
penis with her fingers. With difficulty Robin stopped his flow.
Amber removed her mouth. Some pee dribbled onto her chin, but
otherwise she held his fluid quite well. Had she done this before, I
wondered? She stood and went to the bar’s sink. I heard her spit his
pee into the sink. Then she returned, and knelt again in front of him,
and lodged him once more in her mouth.
It took Amber three trips to the sink to empty Robin’s
bladder. Each man peed into her mouth in turn, even Malthus. There was
a lipstick ring on each of their cocks where her mouth had been. Yet it
was all done for toilette purposes. She apparently excited them with
her lips and mouth as little as she could, for they had much to endure
once their torture began.
I spasmed in the throes of another orgasm. Bethany cried out
anew and, I think, was already on her third. There was no stopping us
from rubbing ourselves. Despite being utterly wet between our legs,
with our nipples sparkling, we continued to frig ourselves. I was mad
with lust and I guess she was too. How silly we would have looked, if
our poor worried parents had found us just then? Hi mom, just having an
orgasm, my second, looking at these groovy guys. They’re to be tortured
in a minute, though I have no idea what it entails. Oops! That thought
alone makes me want to run the whole course again. Don’t mind my
finger, mom. I’ve been doing this since I was 3, though never quite
like this!
“Ooooh! Ooooh! Teddy, please, stop poking me with your
thing!” Bethany cried out. Her finger worked greedily in her slit and
her head was flung back. Her eyes remained closed. Did she dream about
being fucked by her teddy bear? I had no idea. Suddenly I scrambled
up. I knew I was being utterly bad, and utterly disrespectful of
Malthus’ wishes, but I couldn’t help myself. I was like a woman
possessed.
“Yes, teddy must have your cunt!” I cried. I threw myself atop
Bethany. Wickedly I made sure my pussy made contact with her wet lips.
At the same time, I stuck my tongue into her snatch, just like in those
Hustler photos on the Net.
“Noooo! You’re not my teddy bear!” Bethany protested. In
response I jammed the wet lips of my slit down onto her mouth.
“Lick, silly!” I told her. I dithered in her snatch with my
own tongue. She bucked beneath me. Suddenly, just when I feared she
might throw me off, or scratch at my bottom with her long painted nails,
I felt a tongue enter my sex.
“Oooooooh!” I gasped. Momentarily my head shot up, withdrawing
my tongue from Bethany’s cunt. I’d never been entered by anyone like
this before, least of all a girl!
“Hey! Get your tongue back in mine!” Bethany protested. I
laughed, gritting my teeth at the same time, for she was working her
tongue quite deeply into my cunny.
“Mmmmf! Mmmmf! Mffffff!” I buried my mouth in her muff and
drilled for honey. She screamed. She licked deeper in my snatch.
Somewhere I thought I heard Malthus say that our bottoms would be
whipped for disobeying him. The men could no longer see our snatches,
now that Bethany and I were playing at 69. But I did not care, at the
moment, about anything, except how far I could get my tongue up Bethany,
and how far she could get hers up me.
I remained vaguely aware of my surroundings. After all, the
whole inspiration for us had been the men. I, at least, was going to
keep one eye on the wicked proceedings, even if little Bethany was
orgasming over her teddy bear!
Amber fetched a knife from the kitchen. It was long and
sharp. She laid it on a coffee table.
“That’s to make sure you men behave,” Amber said. Her voice
was pleasant, but she was just bitchy enough that I felt sure she might
use it if she needed to. The men, already engorged with cum, only
stared over their ramrod hard penises and waited, on tenterhooks, for
what she had in mind.
I don’t know what happened next. Perhaps she whispered
something to Malthus. But, in any event, both Bethany and I found
ourselves being pulled up suddenly by our hair. We struggled to our
feet. Our cunnies were buzzing. I was on the brink of orgasm myself,
and Bethany was on, I think, her one millionth orgasm. Yet she was as
upset as I was about being interrupted.
“Girls, there’s been a new development,” Amber said. “Malthus
here doesn’t quite understand the male anatomy like I do.” She
grinned. I only wanted to fall back atop Bethany, and stood frigging my
slit with my finger, as she did. “Stop that, girls!” Amber said. “That
sort of thing can wait ‘til later. We have men to attend to, and I want
them to each have a fair chance at getting to bonk you.”
“Ooooh, that’s naughty! I don’t wanna be bonked. I want
candy!” Bethany said. Yet she was slicing her finger rapidly back and
forth in her cunt as she spoke, and I think we all considered her rather
silly for protesting over such a thing when she obviously was dying for
it.
In any event, she was ignored. Amber had gotten out two more
bottles of taco sauce. She handed me one.
“It’s cold,” I said.
“I put it in the fridge,” Amber said. She winked, but I didn’t
catch the joke, if there was one. “See men? Nice cool taco sauce, for
your big hot penises. This should cool your cocks down a little, for
the torture I have planned for them. Remember, don’t move a muscle.
I’m not going to handcuff you men... or should I?” She looked at
Malthus. Despite their declarations that all the secret proceedings had
been prepared in advance, for the men’s sexual pleasure, they seemed to
making some of it, at least, up as they went along. I guessed Malthus
rued putting Eveline in the bedroom, at this point, for though she was a
competent whore, Amber lacked Eveline’s thoroughness of disposition in
sexual matters.
“Yes, of course. They may get out of hand. They should have
been cuffed already,” Malthus said. He was distracted, I think, by his
own hard on. He looked at the men. “It will only take a minute.”
“This had better be good,” Jack groused. “We paid well for
this, whatever it is.”
“You’ll find cuffs in my bedroom, in the top dresser drawer,”
Malthus said to Amber.
Amber sashayed from the room. I heard her shout when she
entered the bedroom where Malthus had put Eveline. When she came back,
bringing the cuffs with her, she spoke to Verajick.
“Sir! You didn’t have to beat her that badly,” Amber said in a
low voice.
“I enjoyed her,” Verajick laughed. I gave Bethany a worried
look. She seemed to wish to go check on Eveline, to see if we could
help her. But we were both still busily masturbating our slits, and I
was worried, too, that we might get in trouble with Malthus and wind up
manacled beside Eveline in the next room. I truly wished to see what
was to happen to these three men!
“Well, I hope she can sit down again someday,” Amber said of
Eveline.
“I’m sure she does too,” Verajick chuckled.
“Girls, let’s cuff the men,” Amber said to Bethany and me. We
had to stop frigging ourselves and each take a pair of handcuffs from
her. Amazingly, these men who had so frightened me now stood from the
couch. They were all arranged on the couch together, like three pees in
a pod, while Malthus had claimed the single person chair that Jack had
formerly occupied.
The men turned around at Amber’s command. I nearly dropped
dead, looking at their fannies. Each man, even Jack, whom I hated, had
a sexy pair of buns. They were white, not tanned like their legs or
their backs, as if they’d obeyed some injunction by Malthus to keep
their asses untanned so they could better display any whip marks he gave
them.
Bethany stuck her finger in her slit. I did too.
“Girls, stop masturbating!” Amber exclaimed. “We have
important work to do now. Put the cuffs on the men. There’s no key--
just put them on their wrists and snap them shut!”
“What?! There’s no key?” Jack asked.
“No key right now. I’ll get it later,” Amber said.
“Shut up, Jack,” Malthus said. He was holding the knife Amber
had gotten from the kitchen. He displayed it in the room’s subdued
light. It glinted, scarily.
With my hands shaking a little, I fitted cuffs over Verajick.
His wrists were big. For a moment I thought the cuffs wouldn’t fit him,
but then I managed to get them around his arms and click them shut.
Bethany did Robin. He was so cute, with his blonde Beach Boy hair.
“I can’t get them shut!” Bethany told Amber.
“Perhaps they need a little grease,” Amber mused. She helped
Bethany, while Jake waited obediently for cuffs to be fitted to his own
wrists. I was surprised at the change in Jack. Perhaps he only bossed
around women in the hopes of finding one who could get a handle on him
and subdue him.
Amber managed to close the handcuffs on Robin. They were new
and stuck in the open position, but they didn’t need grease. Just the
added pressure a grown woman’s hands could provide. Bethany was just
12. She was scared, and her touch was light. She leapt back,
withdrawing quickly on her knees, for we knelt behind the standing men,
as Amber snapped the cuffs closed.
Amber patted Robin’s behind. “Good boy,” she said. She
crawled, with her back erect, to Jake. She closed handcuffs over his
wrists. I heard her breathe a sigh of relief as the awful-mannered Jack
was finally imprisoned. I hoped he would be kept cuffed, until he could
be taught manners, or we could so thoroughly drain him that all his
instinct to dominate and control us was gone.
“Very good, gentlemen,” Malthus said, viewing the cuffed
threesome. “You all take orders well, despite your belligerance.” He
raised an eyebrow, managed to catch Jack’s eye.
“Does this please you?” Jack growled. “Do you like seeing our
naked asses? Are you some kind of fag?”
“No, probably not,” Malthus said. He let his eyes drop to his
knife and considered its long blade. “But I cannot sublet any new drug
routes to men who cannot obey me,” he said. “By letting yourselves be
cuffed you display the obedience I require.”
Malthus stood. I felt myself shrink down into a crouch as
Malthus rose from his chair. His cock was displayed, fully erect, but
otherwise he remained clothed. Bethany drew close to me and sought
refuge in the closeness of our bodies. We were both utterly nude, as
was Amber. I felt like a girl on her honeymoon, after the pleasure’s
begun, quite naked and wet in my slit, wanting more, the night still
holding promise.
“Sit down, men,” Malthus said with a casual sense of
indifference to their formidable nude figures, and ours. He waited
while the men turned back around and sat. Their hips were narrow and
their buns tight, yet they plopped down onto the sofa with heavy
thumps. I’m sure they weren’t fond of being cuffed. Perhaps they were
feeling a little defeated. Yet their dicks stood up excitedly, for
Bethany, Amber and I were only a few feet away, our nipples stiff and
our mouths and cunny mounds moist.
Malthus passed his long knife across an upraised palm. I
feared he might cut himself on it. Bethany held her breath, watching.
The men watched him too, though I don’t think it was his safety they
were worried about. Robin, with his uncircumcised cock, almost made me
giggle, his eyes were so wide as he watched that knife slide back and
forth across Malthus’ palm.
“The three routes I have to distribute vary in the income
they’re capable of producing,” Malthus told the men. Bethany and I and
Amber were just furniture, at the moment. The men were discussing
business. “I will distribute the routes to you as follows,” Malthus
said. “The man who can withhold himself the longest will get the most
lucrative route. The next man the next, and the weakest one will get
the poorest route, though it’s still worth enduring a little cock
torture for.” Malthus grinned. “And anyway you’ve payed me handsomely
for this night of pleasure, as I give nothing, not even this test, for
free.”
Malthus looked at Robin. “You are the youngest,” he said.
“You know that will probably be a disadvantage. I suspect you’ll cum
quickest. I realize you’ll probably get it up again, just as quick, but
I must warn you, dear boy, an ejaculation is an ejaculation, and no
matter how quickly you recover I’ll still hold it against you.”
“Yes, sir,” Robin said.
“Don’t call him ‘sir,’” Jake snapped at Robin. “Are you trying
to curry favor? Just call him ‘Malthus!’”
“Sure, asswipe,” Robin said. Bethany laughed. I found myself
giggling.
“Why you uncircumcised fuck!” Jake said. He wrenched his arms,
trying to separate them from the cuffs. “Do you want me to belt you
one?”
“Not particularly,” Robin replied.
“In addition,” Malthus said, clearing his throat to regain the
men’s attention. “As one who is uncircumcised, Robin, the flesh of your
penis within the fold of your skin, there, is going to be more sensitive
than the other men’s. So be forewarned, you’ll probably suffer more
than they do. But you still must go through with the penis torture, in
order to earn the route, even if you do, as I suspect, get the least
profitable one.”
“That’s fine,” Robin said. “I need another route for my drug
trade. I’m tired of squabbling with the idiots down in San Pablo.”
I felt my hands clasped tight beneath my chin. I admired his
courage. I had no idea what Amber had planned for him, or the other
men, but whatever it was it sounded like it was going to be wonderfully
perverse and painful.
Did I wish to see men in pain? I let my thoughts drift a
moment, wishing to scold myself, but unable to. After all, they were
Men, weren’t they? You know how men are. So evil and wicked. Yet I
felt sorry for Robin, he was so young and cute. At the same time I felt
a longing to see how much he could endure. I was torn -- if I could
have saved him, from whatever Amber had planned, I was sure I would
have; yet, since I couldn’t, I longed to see him put to the test, like
the other men. I felt a desire to finger my slit again, almost
succumbed.
“I feel like I’m a woker in a sausage factory,” Bethany
confided to me. Her voice was small, childlike. She made ‘worker’
sound like ‘wooker.’ Did she mean hooker?
“Yes, I know what you mean,” I agreed. The men displayed such
formidable cocks. Were she and I really going to have to have those big
things put up us when they were done being tortured? I hoped that,
perhaps, they’d be a little less lusty-looking when that time came.
They looked scary, they were so big and firm. And all three of them
throbbed in time to their heartbeats.
“Move your hips forward. Let your testicles overhang the
edge,” Amber told the men. Malthus sat back down, his lecture through.
The stage, or rather the three displayed cocks, were returned to our
care. Malthus dropped the knife he’d been holding to the floor beside
his chair. He lit a new cigar, puffed upon it.
The men moved their hips forward on the sofa. Like three heavy
I.V. sacs, which I’d seen strung up in the hospital when my mom had my
little sister, the men’s balls dropped off the front edge of the couch.
There they hung, bloated with their seed, desiring release through their
rampant cocks. I felt my finger glide down Bethany’s bare tummy and
slip between her legs. Her own finger found my slit. We stared at the
men, clasping each other.
“Ohhhh!” Bethany moaned.
“Girls, are you masturbating AGAIN?!” Amber asked.
“Sorry,” Bethany blushed.
“We didn’t mean to,” I said. Bethany and I drew apart.
“Now -- guard the men’s cocks while I go get some spreader bars
for their feet,” Amber said. She turned to Malthus. “Do you have any
of those, dear?”
“In the bottom drawer, in the dresser in my bedroom,” Malthus
said. Absently he stroked his hard dick with his fingers. He could
pleasure himself all he wanted, I realized. Only we, his guests, were
forbidden. Yet I didn’t want to touch myself, if I could help it.
“Very good,” Amber said. She rose again, and I realized she
was still thinking things up as we went along. Eveline would have had
everything prepared, right down to the last item. But Amber was not
experienced like Eveline was.
Amber went to the bedroom and soon returned. She tasked
Bethany and I with bending down between the men’s legs and fixing their
feet into the spreader bars. Bethany had trouble, as before. Amber
helped her. When all three men’s legs were opened wide and held that
way by the bars, Amber locked their ankles one to another. Verajick’s
left ankle was locked to Robin’s right, and Robin’s left ankle was
locked to the right ankle of Jake.
“Yes, that should keep you from kicking us,” Amber said,
contemplating the new restraints. She tossed back her blonde hair. She
looked at Bethany and I. “Well, girls, I think we’re ready!” she said.
Her eyes were bright.
“Ooooh! They must be tortured,” Bethany said. Her voice
sounded small and gleeful, like a girl about to get candy.
“Yes, but first we’re going to apply some nice, cool taco sauce
to their dicks, that I got out of the fridge,” Amber said. “This will
help them. They won’t be quite so hot for sex.” Amber made Bethany and
I each take a bottle of taco sauce from the coffee table. We made our
way to and from the table on our knees. We were kittenlike, precious.
Amber unscrewed the caps on the new bottles for us. Her hands were
stronger than ours.
“Now girls,” Amber said. “I’ve something for us to wear.” She
had brought a small black bag with her, procured from somewhere, when
she’d fetched the second and third bottles of taco sauce. She opened
it. She drew from it three small white pairs of gloves. “Put these on
your hands. I don’t want them getting messy. Only the men’s dicks are
to get messy.”
“Oh, I have gloves like this that I wear each week to sunday
school!” Bethany said. Happily she grabbed a pair from Amber. The
gloves were quite pretty. They had slim, tapered fingers and a bow
adorned the wrist of each short little glove. Bethany slipped hers on,
I slipped a pair on my own hands. Amber donned the third pair. Hers
were a little bigger than Bethany and mine. We looked silly, nude
except for our gloves and heels, but I liked wearing them all the same.
“Now,” Amber said. “Let’s touch up our lipstick, hmmm? You
girls have been having a little too much fun.” She smiled slyly. We
had indeed, frigging ourselves and making love on the floor. She made
Bethany and I belly up to her, on our knees, she on her knees also, and
she used a makeup kit to touch up our makeup. Our brows were lined, our
lashes coated. Our cheeks were powdered and new lipstick was put on our
lips.
“Ah-choo!” Bethany sneezed as Amber powdered her nose.
“Come on, for Christ’s sake,” Jake growled. “This is fucking
ridiculous!”
“Gentlemen, you may have had to pay for us, but we’re not
common whores,” Amber said to Jake. “We’re ladies, and you must wait on
us just as you would wait on your mistresses or your wives.”
“She’s 12-years-old,” Jake said. He looked at Bethany. She
shrank under his gaze.
“Well, that’s true,” Amber agreed. “And, back home, she might
not wear any makeup, and you might see her swinging happily on a swing,
in ripped jeans and a t-shirt. But here she is a lady, and she must be
properly made up like one.”
Jake rolled his eyes.
“Girls, let’s begin,” Amber said. She released us and let us
return to the taco bottles that waited between each man’s feet. Bethany
and I each picked up a bottle, undid the cap, which Amber had already
loosened.
“Pour it on their penises. It will help them cool down,” Amber
told us. She lifted the bottle she held and positioned it right over
Jake’s peehole. Then she tilted the bottle.
Nothing came out. “Oh, shit! Let me get knives so we can get
it to come out,” Amber said. She hopped up. She was clearly distressed
that she didn’t have everything planned out, as a proper dominatrix
would have. She hurried to the kitchen. I watched the cheeks of her
derriere wobbling as she ran. Would those twin white cheeks be scorched
with a whip by morning? I wondered. Malthus had a taste for whipping
and I doubted Eveline’s whipping had satisfied it.
I put my bottle down. I let my gloved hands drift behind me
and felt my fanny. It felt smoothe and cool, I wished I had something
to wear besides just these little gloves.
Amber came back from the kitchen. She held three small, sharp
knives in her hands. “Sorry, I couldn’t find any with dull blades,” she
said.
“Mine’s coming out!” Bethany declared. Unknown to me, she’d
continued to shake her bottle, quite vigorously, over Robin’s cock.
Suddenly the taco sauce burst from the neck of her upturned bottle.
“Yeah! Good for you, Bethany,” Robin complimented her. He
seemed to enjoy the feel of the refrigerator-cooled sauce as it spilled
down over his throbbing hot cock. Bethany let it run from her bottle.
It coated the head of Robin’s penis like ketchup on an upturned hotdog.
Gradually it trailed down his thick shaft. It was slow, like molasses
in mid-winter. At last, reaching the base of his shaft, it flowed like
lava out over the bulging sac of his balls.
“Yeah, that feels good,” Robin said to Bethany. He arched his
hips and displayed his cock to the other men. “Not bad for a
12-year-old, eh, Jake. She made me nice and cool!”
“Oooh, you look like you have blood all over your dick,”
Bethany said.
Amber knelt down beside the girl, handing me a knife as she
passed behind me. “Use your hands to spread the sauce all over his
dick,” Amber told Bethany. “He should be completely coated.” Indeed,
the thick sauce, running down his shaft, had left patches of skin
untouched. “And get it under the flap of his foreskin too,” Amber told
Bethany. “Work, girl! Don’t just stare at his thing. You’ve got to
put your little gloved hands to work. This isn’t sunday school.”
“Ohhhh, but what if he comes?” Bethany said. She seemed rather
frightened of Robin’s big penis.
“That’s the point, silly,” Amber said. “We must now use our
mouths and our fingers to torture them. Suck them, lick them, squeeze
them too, if you like. Hurry, Lisa, let’s get our own men covered in
taco sauce so Robin isn’t forced out too far ahead of them.”
“Is that all this cock torture is going to amount to?” Jake
laughed. He cast a derisory glance at Malthus as Amber began pouring
sauce out over his dick. “Three cheap, well, expensive whores, two of
them little girls, sucking our dicks?”
“You wish more?” Malthus said.
“Well, all this talk of ‘torture,’” Jake said. “You’d raised
my expectations, you know? I thought I was going to have to really put
out to get a drug route. Looks like I’m going to have trouble staying
awake!”
Robin gave a little shiver. Bethany kissed his cock. “Be
good,” she told him. “Don’t move around too much. You have a tasty
dick. I’m going to try to put a little of it in my mouth. It reminds
me of TACOs!” she said happily. I watched as she licked his cockhead
and then widened her mouth, trying to get her lips over his crown. I
smiled. I doubted she’d have been willing to take him so easily, if he
wasn’t coated in tasty taco sauce.
“Oook. You isth bigth!” Bethany said. Her lips pushed down
over his penis head. It widened her cheeks, puffing them out. She
looked like she was trying to swallow a big-headed snake.
“Ahhhgh!” Robin said. Bethany gripped his shaft with her
small, gloved hands, trying to get more of him to fit into her little
wet mouth.
“Ack!” Robin gasped.
“What’s your problem, dickhead?” Jake asked him. Robin began
to sweat.
“That sauce is hot!” Robin declared.
“No it’s not. I’ve got it all over me, just like you do, and
it’s nice and cool,” Jake said. He shoved his bare hips forward a
little more, rested his head back on the back of the couch. “Wake me
when you’re through, honey,” he said to Amber. He closed his eyes.
Almost immediately they reopened.
“This sauce IS beginning to turn hot,” Verajick said. I was
busily working some into his peehole with the tip of my gloved thumb.
“Don’t do that,” he told me.
“Sir, I may do whatever I please with your dick,” I reproved
him.
“No -- it’s turning hot! It’s starting to burn!” Verajick
warned me.
“But how could it be? I took it out of the refrigerator,”
Amber asked. Her eyes were wide with innocence, but there was a sly
smile on her face.
“You FUCKING bitch!” Jake shouted. His hips rose up from the
sofa. He stood erect. He could not walk, though, for he was secured by
his ankle to Robin.
“Sit, boy!” Amber said. He’d thrown her back when he shot to
his feet. Now, with a pretty gloved hand, she took him by his penis and
pulled down hard on his shaft.
“Damn you, bitch!” Jake said. He plopped back down onto the
sofa.
“I have to go pee,” Bethany said. She looked for permission to
Amber.
“That’s fine, dear, but hurry,” Amber said to her. “We must
all three keep torturing the mens’ penises until they cum.”
Bethany, very daintily, pulled off her white gloves. She laid
them on the coffee table and went skipping off to the bathroom. I
wanted to go to.
“May I?” I asked Amber.
“Well, I shall have to just wait until you’re both finished,
then,” Amber said. “Hurry. I don’t like leaving these three just
sitting here. It’s too much fun trying to make them shoot!” She took
her hands from Jake’s cock.
“Thanks,” I said. I dashed to the toilet.
I found Bethany in the bathroom, madly rubbing her slit.
“Oooh! It’s so exciting! I couldn’t bear it!” she said. She
was sitting on the commode, and had just peed, but showed little
interest in getting up.
“I know,” I said. Freely I frigged my twat. “Let me sit,
though. Perhaps peeing will help,” I told her. She got up. She let me
sit and, taking toilet paper from the roll beside the toilet, she wiped
herself, though she now was standing upright. We were quite unladylike,
even if Amber had put new makeup on our faces.
I managed to stop frigging myself long enough to pee. Then I
wiped, still sitting on the toilet. Sighing, I rubbed my slit with the
tissue paper longer than I needed to. My breasts wobbled on my chest.
I looked at Bethany’s bosoms and felt guilty for bringing her here. She
was so young. She should be home doing homework, not down here in the
desert making men’s penises suffer.
“Let’s go home,” I said to her.
“You go -- I want to make Robin shoot!” Bethany said.
“Oh, but I want him to win!” I said. “Don’t you think he’s
cute?”
“I don’t know,” Bethany said, considering. She put a finger to
her chin. “He’s big. I’m just little.”
“Well, try not to make him cum. I want him to win,” I told
her. “And, meanwhile, I’ll pump Verajick extra hard, and Jake too, if
Amber will let me.”
“Okay,” Bethany said. “But what should I do?”
“Just lick him a little,” I told her. “Small little licks.
I’ll pump Verajick like he’s, you know, the handle for a well.”
“Hmmm, he’s big enough to be the handle for a well,” Bethany
said.
I rose from the toilet. I took her hand. “Come on, we’ll make
Robin win and then we can both run away and live with him. Malthus
scares me,” I told her.
“Me too,” Bethany agreed.
Hand in hand we returned to the living room. Amber was sitting
on her feet, kneeling gracefully before Jake. His legs were wide apart
and he was sweating. He cursed, under his breath. His eyes were
squeezed tightly shut but he was sitting upright now. Robin and
Verajick were just as discomposed as he.
“Ahh, there you are, girls. The men are suffering quite badly
now,” Amber said. “I guess our little game of cock torture proved to be
a challenge for them after all!”
“Oh, they’re suffering!” I cried. I clapped my hand to my
breasts.
“Do their penises hurt?” Bethany asked.
Robin’s cheeks puffed. Through clenched teeth, he said, “Yes!
My dick’s on fire, you little bitch!”
“Sorry,” Bethany said. She wandered over to him, still holding
my hand. Together we knelt in front of him.
“What if I blow on it?” Bethany asked Robin. She pursed her
lips. With soft little puffs of air she blew across the underside of
his ramrod penis.
“Hi, Verajick!” I said. I grabbed hold of his penis with both
my hands. “Time to give your penis a little stretch, don’t you think?”
I asked. With both my hands I pulled rudely upward on his stiff dick.
Then, just as quickly, I slid both my hands down his shaft. I squeezed
him as tight as I could.
“Stop -- I’ll shoot!” Verajick told me. I cast a quick glance
at Bethany. She was still blowing softly on Robin’s hard, erect organ.
“Yes, it’s time for your milking!” I told Verajick. I drew in
my breath. My breasts rose. I shoved them forward. I got his shaft
between my tits.
“Mmmm, yes, cum in my face,” I said to Verajick.
“Lisa, your skin will burn if you get it all over your
breasts,” Amber warned me.
“Yikes!” I said. I drew back. “May I wash it off?” I asked.
“If you can,” she said.
“No,” Malthus said. “I am not going to have just the men
suffer. Put the sauce on your nipples, girls. Or else,” he said. He
reached down and picked up the knife.
“Oh, Malthus, NO!” Amber said.
“Yes,” Malthus grinned. “Do it now. Do it, or I’ll insist you
put it on your slits too.”
“I would never do such a thing!” I told Malthus. I felt
angry. Bethany and I should have used our trip to the toilet to try to
escape. Now I wasn’t sure, if we chose to, that we could outrun him.
Even if I escaped, Bethany might not.
“Ahhh, girls, do you dare to disobey Malthus?” a female voice
asked. I spun around on my knees.
“Eveline!” I cried. She stood over us. She had a long whip in
her finely-nailed hand. It was a bullwhip. Someone, perhaps a servant
at Malthus’ secret request, had let her free. Her hair was pinned up,
though she had not bathed since her ordeal. Her lipstick was smudged
and her bottom, I knew, must be feeling quite scorched, though I
couldn’t see it. She was nude except for long silk stockings. I
guessed they were new earlier in the day, but now both stockings had
long runs in them. She had spiked mules on her feet.
“Ohhh, Eveline! We can’t!” Amber protested.
“But you could listen to me be whipped?” Eveline said. “Put
that taco sauce on your nipples at once, girl! All of you! Do it!”
“Ohh, Boo! Hoo!” Bethany cried. Big tears began rolling down
her cheeks.
“And what are you worthless shits complaining about?!” Eveline
shouted. She cracked her whip. The long tail of the whip came cracking
down across the open thighs of all three men. They jumped in their
seats. A few inches higher and the whip would have crossed over their
cocks.
I bent to Bethany and licked at her nipple. “Here, I’ll wet it
for you first,” I told her.
“Oh, I don’t wanna!” she protested. But she smiled a little as
my tongue lapped at her rigid teat. First one, then the other.
“Now do mine,” I told her. Helpfully she leaned forward and,
extending her tongue, licked tentatively at the tip of one of my tits.
“Mmm, I’m hungry, mommie,” Bethany told me.
“Just wet my nipples, silly. I’m not your mommie,” I told
her. When she had, I lifted her face from my breasts. “Now let me put
some taco sauce over your tits,” I told her. I forgot to put my gloves
back on. Instead, I dipped a finger down into my bottle of taco sauce
and, withdrawing it, I coated one of her small pink teats with the
ketchup-like sauce.
“It feels nice and cool,” Bethany said. She thrust her breasts
out. “I like it.”
“Well, it will burn in a minute,” I warned her.
“Maybe it only burns penises,” Bethany said.
“I doubt it,” I told her. When I’d put sauce on both her
nipples I told her to do mine.
Amber did her own breasts. Then we waited.
“Yooks! Mine are starting to burn!” Bethany suddenly
hollared. We were all kneeling on the soft carpet. Eveline stood over
us, holding her whip. The men, all of them sweating hard, watched us
with interest.
“Mmmm, mine are starting to burn TOOO!” I shouted. I leapt to
my feet. “Where’s the water?!” I asked Amber. I knew she’d brought out
a bowl of warm soapy water to cleanse the men’s dicks with.
Malthus roared with laughter. Bethany jumped to her feet and
together she and I, spotting the bowl, went running to it.
“I should put taco sauce on your naked little asses!” Malthus
said.
“I hate you, Malthus!” I told him, truthfully. Bethany and I
bent over the bowl. We fought to get our hands into the water, each of
us wanting to be first. Then we lifted the water in handfuls to our
breasts and splashed it upon ourselves.
Several minutes later we were still assiduously soaping our
nipples. They burned as much as before. I was sobbing, softly.
Bethany wept more loudly.
“Oooh! I can’t stand it!” Bethany cried. We were kneeling
again, the bowl on the floor between our legs. It was almost empty
now. There was water upon the rug and splashed on our thighs. Soap ran
down our bare tummies and collected in droplets in our nests. But our
nipples still burned, hotly. There was apparently no way to relieve
them.
“You have taken enough of a break,” Eveline told us. “Get back
over to the men. They must be shot off, all three of them.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said. I kept my eyes lowered. I was afraid of
her now, of her whip, of the bad mood she was in because her bottom was
flayed. I’d caught a look at her hindquarters. There were sharp red
weals all across her backside. I doubted she’d sit comfortably again
for a month, a week? I didn’t know. She woulnd’t be happy for awhile,
though, that I knew. And I no longer wanted to be here with such
strange people.
“Milk them hard,” I told Bethany. I whispered in her ear as we
crossed the room submissively on our knees. “Then we’re going home!”
“Yessss,” Bethany agreed. Together we took our places again,
me in front of Verajick, she in front of Robin. We no longer tried to
favor him. I pulled hard on Verajick’s penis, she squeezed and rubbed
Robin’s. Amber began working again upon Jake’s stiff cock. Eveline
watched us, silently. I guessed she wished to strike our bare bottoms
with the whip, but Malthus hadn’t given her permission (yet).
The men came, in close succession. First Verajick, for I was
working him very hard. He swore at me. His spunk flew from his penis.
I drew back, momentarily, surprised at its sudden eruption from his pee
hole. Then, fearing he might fall short of releasing his full load, I
leaned in between his legs again and, oblivious to the white sperm
erupting into my face, and licked at his organ and worked it like a
cow’s udder with my hands.
“Yeek!” Bethany shouted. Robin exploded in her face. He
spurted up her nose, into her mouth. She’d been trying to get her lips
over his dick again.
“Rub! Rub!” I told her. I still pumped Verajick. I didn’t
want these men to have any lust left in them when we were through. I
guessed Malthus wished to see their burning cocks shoved up our twats.
But, if they were soft, that wouldn’t be possible.
Bethany worked like a trooper. Despite her alarm at having
sperm shooting up into her face, she manhandled Robin with able
fingers. He pumped and pumped and pumped out his jism. It showered
over her lovely blonde hair. Some even flew far enough to get into
mine.
Jake was last. The old bastard proved to be toughest, just
like he said he would be. I wished I’d had a shot at him, instead of
Verajick. Perhaps I could have made him cum first. Amber smiled at me,
not knowing what I was thinking. Then, with Jake just beginning to
spout into her face, she closed her lips over the head of his cock. She
rose from her knees. Standing, but bending forward at the waist, she
slid his long dong all the way to the back of her mouth. Then, as
Bethany and I watched with wide eyes, she forced him deeper.
I watched as Amber choked. Then she managed to find a way to
accomodate him. She slid him deeper still, until I swear he was halfway
down her throat.
“Mmmmfff,” Amber said. Her cheeks bulged. Sperm dripped from
her lips where they closed over his shaft. She squeezed his balls, to
make him give her more.
Suddenly there was a crack of the bullwhip.
“MOOOOK!” Amber shouted. Eveline had struck her bare bottom as
she bent over Jake, receiving his cock. Yet, like some willing Amazon,
Amber kept Jake in her, refusing even to rise as her bent-over, well
displayed ass fell prey to Eveline’s whip. I saw a red mark form across
Amber’s pale cheeks where the whip had struck her.
“Yes, you do it deliciously,” Eveline complimented Amber. She
did not strike the girl again. Amber received all of Jake within her,
all that didn’t drip out from between her tight lips where they circled
his shaft. Finally Jake appeared spent. Amber let her mouth
slip from his penis. His staff had begun to limpen, I saw. I was glad,
for I feared him and hoped he had no wicked sperm left. Amber stood and
eyed Jake with warm eyes. She rubbed her belly.
“You win, sir,” she said. “Let me get the key so I can undo
your cuffs.” She cast a glance at Malthus.
“Yes. Alright,” Malthus said. He looked at the bowl of
water. Bethany and I had emptied it, washing our nipples off. There
was none left for the men.
“May we go now?” Bethany asked Eveline.
“To the bathroom!” I added hastily.
“You girls just went,” Amber said.
“Well, I have to pee again,” Bethany said. She didn’t, I
guessed, but had caught my hint. She wanted to go home. We needed an
excuse to escape.
“Yes, girls, go pee if you must,” Eveline said. “Then I want
you both upstairs. We do have a little naughtiness to make amends for,
hmmm? Remember this afternoon?”
“Yes,” I said. “We’ll be quick.” I stood.
“I have to go Number Two,” Bethany said. “I might be a little
longer.”
“Fine,” Eveline said. “Remember to turn on the fan in the
bathroom, or you’ll stink it up.”
“Yes!” Bethany said. “And flush too!” She hurried from the
room. I followed her.
“Do you really have to poop?” I asked her as soon as we’d
reached the relative safety of the toilet.
“A little,” she said. “But it can wait. Do you have a plan
for us to escape?” she looked at me hopefully.
“Not really,” I admitted. I felt frightened. I knew she did
too. Suddenly we embraced. Our nipples perked to each other. Our
bellies touched warmly. Our hips pushed forward, making our curly nests
brush and intermingle their hairs. I was wet between my legs and knew
she was too.
“We must escape, somehow,” I told her. I bent my face to
hers. Her lips were waiting.
“Yes,” she agreed. I kissed her small lovely mouth. I let my
tongue run aross her upper lip and found that she’d opened her mouth to
receive it.
“Ohhh, we shouldn’t do this!” I confessed to her. But I stuck
my tongue in her mouth, drowning her response.
Bethany twisted in my hands. I held them to her face, invading
her mouth with my tongue. She tasted sweet inside her mouth, like
candy. I found I liked the taste of her. I hoped she liked the flavor
of my tongue. I wondered what it tasted like to her.
I felt a mouthing against my cheek. How? My mouth was pressed
to Bethany’s. A kiss, a touch of a tongue pressing into my cheek.
Eveline! She cupped my bare bottom with her hand. I felt Bethany
squirm under me, and heard her issue a small cry. Eveline’s other hand
must be upon her bottom, I reasoned, exploring her tight crack even as
she was now delving into mine.
I tried to shove my hips forward, to escape Eveline’s probing
finger. She touched my anus. She pushed harder. I could not get
away. My hips were already thrust forward, my soft downy pubic hair
pressed tight against Bethany’s. With a shout Bethany tried to shove
her hips forward too, for Eveline was probing her anus with her finger.
Bethany and I fought each other, with our hips, each of us trying to
jerk forward against the other to get away from Eveline’s naughty
fingers. At last, my weight proved greater (I was, after all, a year
older.) I managed to push my hips far forward, relieving myself of
Eveline’s finger in my backside. Bethany, however, was shoved back, and
she yelped in a high-pitched voice as her pushed-back bottom was
penetrated deeply by Eveline’s pointing finger.
“Girls, your new master wishes to see you both whipped,”
Eveline said in a soft, lilting voice. She managed to intrude her
finger within my cheeks again. I felt her softly caress my back hole
with her fingertip. My body froze, listening as she spoke. Our new
master?
“For the evening,” Eveline said, as if anticipating my
concern. “Just for this evening.” She kissed my cheek again. “Jake
won you both fair and square, and he wishes for me to whip you. For
playing nude in the sun, this afternoon, or perhaps for nothing at all,
just to see your erotic little bottoms squirm and bounce under the
whip. I’ll try not to do it too hard. He can be a real beast, though!
Don’t expect me to spare you and put my own backside at risk. I’m
afraid I’ve had enough for one night, thanks to Verajick.”
Robin entered the room. I was standing there, bumping my muff
against Bethany’s, sharing with her the closeness of my wet slit,
feeling, when I leaned far back and ground my hips into hers, the
moistness of her own (which I could not do, now, with Eveline
frightening me.) Standing with my bosoms hard pressed to Bethany’s and
my nose and lips pressed to hers, and my tummy hot and rubbing hers and
my kinky pussy hairs twining a little with hers, Robin entered.
He had the jaunty walk of a conqueror. He was nude, except for
ankle-length socks and his shoes, polished black. His penis had
hardened again after the torture we’d given it. His balls were drawn
up, sac-like, as if holding precious cargo. (Cargo, I suspected, he
wished to deliver soon.) There was fire in his eyes and he stared down
at me and Bethany, his head perched high on his broad-shouldered frame.
We stood like small rabbits underneath him, caught out in the open
fields by a hungry wolf.
Eveline’s hands retreated. Robin’s claimed our bottoms now. I
saw him lick his lips and knew something had transpired in the living
room, between the four men. Some transaction that had not included us
in its making, but had, most certainly, us as its prize.
“You both belong to me now,” Robin said frankly. “I’m out of
the drug business. I sold all my routes to Jake.” He paused, drew a
deep breath. “For you,” he said, exhaling. “For both of you.”
I trembled. Right from my head to my toes I trembled. I felt
timid, yet joyful. Robin I liked very much. He was, almost, I thought,
like a boyfriend to me, though I’d only met him this evening. Then I
remembered it was Bethany who had actually worked his penis, and given
him the joy of spending.
Would he favor her? I did not know. I felt a rivalry
suddenly, between us, though only moments before I’d been worried about
saving her, even more than myself, for she was littler than me.
“Nobody can own people. I learned that in social studies,”
Bethany told Robin. Her eyes were wide with fright but her voice was
prim, assertive.
Robin laughed. It was the bold, casual laugh of a male who has
what he wants, and knows it. He jammed his penis between our
close-pressed hips and she and I both drew back, fearfully, to avoid
it.
“You’d best forget your nursery school lessons,” Robin said
proudly to Bethany. “I’ve bought you, and woe to you if you try to
escape. But I’d rather you were my willing loveslaves, than forced into
it. Though I’ll use force if I have to.”
“Their wristlets can be made quite handy in an argument like
this,” Eveline said. Swiftly she drew behind Bethany and, taking her
arms gently, a woman softly touching another, hardly causing Bethany to
notice, until after the deed was done, and it was too late, Eveline
pressed Bethany’s hands together. The bracelets upon her wrists clicked
into place.
“Whaaat?” Bethany cried. Poor, foolish girl. She’d worn
wristlets all evening, which could be locked together simply by pressing
one into the other. Yet she’d forgotten them, or never perceived their
use. Had she thought them simple bangles, decorations for her arms?
Eveline stepped behind me. I wished to resist, but didn’t.
Robin’s penis was jutting close to my pussy and I found I wanted it.
Or, at least, if it was to be put into one of us, I wanted it to be me,
not Bethany. I feared Robin might prefer her to myself.
I felt my breasts rise, thrust out, as Eveline pulled back my
arms. CLICK! One motion clasped both my arms together. I was prisoner
now, with anklets on my feet, waiting still to be snapped togehter, or
into the legs, perhaps, of a trestle, like the one they’d whipped
Bethany over in the bedroom during our orgy.
“Yes, that’s better,” Robin breathed. His voice was low,
husky. Bethany looked at me, at him, at Eveline. Indignantly she
wrestled her wrists one against the other, behind her back, trying to
free them. Her lovely bosoms bobbed on her chest.
I faced Robin. I felt his eyes drop from my face to my
breasts. They presented themselves quite boldly. “How shall we win our
freedom?” I asked him. My voice was timid. He cupped my tits with his
large hands. They were calloused. I knew not why. Was he not a drug
lord? Perhaps he’d loaded the sacks of heroin and cocain himself,
sweating in the hot sun with his other laborers, to make a greater
fortune for himself. Yet now he’d spent it all, on Bethany and me. Or
at least he’d spent what he might have earned, in the future. I did not
know the details. Only that I’d been bargained for, and sold.
“It will be arduous,” Robin said. Rudely he stuck his big
penis between my legs. I tried, to late, to clip my thighs together. I
wound up trapping his big thing inside my legs. He seemed to savor the
pressure of my thighs against his rod and I feared to open again, lest I
anger him. Eveline ran her hands down the outside of my thighs, bidding
me to keep him. She stood behind me, he in front. Bethany, off to the
side, still struggled vainly to free her wrists.
“You may,” Robin said, his voice catching a little, “You may
bear young for me.” I felt my tummy tighten. It was smooth, soft,
dimpled by my navel. I did not want it swollen with his child. Yet,
even now, I couldn’t remember when I’d last taken birth control.
Eveline had teased about slipping pills into our orange juice at
breakfast. I hoped she had. What was now stuck between my legs felt
full of male juice, and Robin rubbed it with a grating feel against my
pussy lips. The juice from them moistened the top of his rod as he
worked it back and forth between my jammed-together thighs.
“Oh, Robinnnn!” I cried. I fell forward. It was too much for
me, being bound, having his cock upthrust against my slit. I fainted
into him. He caught me, easily, held me tight against him. I felt the
hair on his chest rubbing against my face, my bosoms. He was hairy, I
was without hair, except for a sprinkling between my legs, and flowing
down in soft folds from atop my head. He laughed. His chest rose and
fell as he laughed. It was a possessive laugh, as Hercules might have
given after slaying some beast, capturing its hide to decorate his home
with.
“Bethany, do you have to go potty?” I heard Eveline ask. There
was a note of alarm in her voice.
“Yes, I do!” Bethany said.
“Well, don’t stand there with your poop coming out of your
bottom. Get your seat over to the toilet!” Eveline told my friend.
“I can’t! My hands are tied!” Bethany said.
“Your legs still work, don’t they? Get over there at once,
girl, and sit down on the potty, before I whip your behind for
punishment, with no joy at all reserved in it. Do you want that? I
could make your bottom BAKE if I wished to.”
“Noooooo!” Bethany protested. I could not see her, but I
imagined her dashing over to the potty, a big turd squeezing out of her
little bottom even as she ran. When at last I recovered myself and was
able to stand, without having to lean into Robin, I saw Bethany on the
toilet, bent forward, with her arms still tied, as mine were. Eveline
was wiping her bottom for her.
“If I’m your love slave don’t forget I need to go to the potty,
and eat lots of candy too,” Bethany told Robin.
Robin laughed and squeezed the cheeks of my bare ass. “Don’t
worry. I’ll buy you a lollipop,” he told her.
30
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