Rose talked about last winter. The men listened, enjoying her voice, looking at her sometimes, or just sitting with her and admiring Polly and I, perched on our potty seats. I studied the wallpaper. So expensive, and all devoted to me, at the moment, and Polly. There were rich shades of red interwoven with paler yellows, and pinks. A chandelier above our heads sparkled crystalline light upon our bodies. The maid stood mute. She watched Polly, myself, like a schoolmarm after school supervising study hall delinquents. Polly's soft young breasts, rising so nicely to impudent points, their tips hard with excitement, rose and fell on her slim chest. My own cones offered the same spectacle, my teats thrust forward by my manacles, lifting with my inward breaths, dropping slightly when I exhaled, jiggling their fleshiness with girlish allure. The soft, imperceptible swell of my belly wished for babies. The maid studied my navel. How many young had she birthed? She might have been pretty once, but the exertions of bearing young had worn her down finally, stretching her, filling her, increasing her size and her girth. I doubted she'd known birth control. Each new year brought its season of spring, her belly blooming full just as the new flowers opened. Summer's heat saw her in the maternity shed, out back, grunting as she gave yet one more baby to the world. I wished to know how Rose's farm hands lived. I knew a little, from my travels. But I wanted to live amongst them, rise in the morning with the dawning sun and toil all day under the master's lash, bedding down finally to the demands of my husband's penis. Such dreamy thoughts I had, sitting bound upon the child's potty. I think, at that moment, for Louis, I would gladly have worked under his guidance for the rest of my life. He would be the man of the plantation, I would be his willing slave. He would train me to work in the fields and watch as I stooped over to pick each little flowering cotton bud, the breeze lifting my short, thin dress and exposing my bottom. Would he let me have panties? I doubted it. He would watch me and use me and grow strong from my labor. He would be the richest man in Georgia, and I, for a little while, in my budding youth, I would be his peach. And when he left me for another girl I'd sneak into his room at night and stab him with a dagger, just as he'd stabbed me so many fruitful times with himself.

The men finished their drinks and the maid refilled their glasses. Rose watched their carefree abandon, sitting with their punishment forgotten on their frilled comforters. They had a better seat than I, sitting on a hard plastic potty. I envied them. My arms were starting to ache. I wanted to flex them, to move about. My thighs felt okay. Between them I trembled, though, wishing for touches the law didn't allow. Here I hoped the law wouldn't prevail. Rose made her own rules. I watched her with obedience showing in my eyes. I would do her bidding. She would test me, would satisfy me. Surely it would not be more than I could stand. She herself looked fine, her hair neatly curled, her bosom impressive, her toes peeking out from beneath her long flowing dress.

"Men, I really don't approve of you playing with yourselves," Rose said finally. The men looked up. They were both in mid-gulp with their newly poured drinks, their hands on their penises, lightly stroking themselves. The maid slipped into the bedroom a moment, then returned with two extra large Penis Pumpers. Rose took them from her. "If you men insist on having stimulation, then I'm really going to have to insist you use these," Rose said brightly.

Louis and Andre looked at the glass cylinders. They were long and hollow and open at one end. Within each was a detachable rubber condom. I realized a man could insert himself, ejaculate into the condom, and then simply dispose of it when done. But what was the rubber tubing running down from the tip of each glass? At its closed, snouted end, this tube ran out, leash-like, until it ended in a rubber inflation ball. It reminded me of a blood pressure cuff, except it wouldn't be putting pressure on your arm.

"I've never even used one of those," Louis scoffed. Andre had a slightly guilty look on his face. He was shy compared to Louis, though built just as well. Had he been left alone on a Saturday night or two? I glanced at Polly. She was looking down into her potty bowl. ÔThere's nothing in there unless you put it there,' I wanted to say to her, but I kept quiet instead. I was intrigued by the newfound plight of the men.

"This is a place for doing new things," Rose said quietly. She stood up and walked over to the men. Her dress swished with refined grace. If her boobs hadn't been joggling nakedly on her chest you might have thought you were in an office with her. She knelt and laid Andre's pumper aside for a moment, on the floor. She took the pumper intended for Louis and frankly stuck his cock into it, first capturing him at the head like a botanist might bag a butterfly with a net, then sliding all of him into the tube with effort, as if putting in a snake. Louis watched, holding his drink up to his chin, wanting to drink it but too mesmerized to remember it. Andre's cock stood up proudly. He seemed unhappy at being put into the tube, but there was noplace he could hide his stemming organ. Rose did him next, gripping his shaft and jamming him all the way into the pump. Then she returned to her chair, trailing out the tubing behind her. She sat down primly, holding an inflation ball in each of her charming hands. Her eyelashes fluttered. She smiled at Louis and Andre.

"Ready, boys?" she asked. With delicate fingers she squeezed the balls.

"Whoa," Louis blurted, feeling the first pangs of pleasure as the sheath in the glass gripped him more tightly. "It feels just like a cunt."

"It's supposed to," Rose smiled. She squeezed the balls in her hands rhythmically. With each new squish of them the men felt yet more pressure upon their cocks. Louis' face turned red. He was like a virgin, experiencing this particular depravity for the first time. I was delighted I could see him in his newborn state, with no preconceptions, none of his cynical moods. This was real, he'd never felt it, and it had him not by the balls but by his most precious asset of all, his dong. Andre had a little smile on his face, as if to say, "Ah, yes. I remember this. It made me feel guilty, but it got rid of my blue balls." I giggled and looked at Polly. She stared wide-eyed. She did not notice Andre's guilt. She was just a child. She had seen so little in life she could not pick up the nuances an adult like me could. Well, I was only a year older than her, but I was ahead of her, that was for sure. As she sat enthroned on the Potty, wondering at her fate, I tried to feel more secure. I was with the man I loved. Shouldn't that be enough? Polly was too, but she felt a child's love, a marvelling kind of love that was unreflected upon, like a girl seeing her first lollipop. I'd tasted lollipops and liked them.

Our twin popsicle boys were up to their ears in pressure. They gritted their teeth, watching with fretful eyes as Rose gave yet more pumps to the little balls in her hands. She proceeded slowly now, letting each man savor the interval, if he could, wondering if each pump would be her last, hoping it would be.

Squish! Rose gave a final squeeze, or so I hoped, to the balls. She grinned at the men with the smile of a contented cat. They would not dare disobey her now. "I hope you don't drink too much," Rose said, as the men ordered more liquor from the maid, to ease their sweating brows. "After all, you'll need my permission to pee. I don't really think you want to try going inside those things, do you? It would just add to the pressure, if your urine could come out at all!" Louis nodded, grunted. "Just try to get used to it, Louis. Andre's been there before, haven't you, Andre?"

"I never pumped mine up this much," Andre confessed.

"Well, you're in a ladies' hands now," Rose replied. "You men, when you masturbate you do just as you please, don't you? My, my, that's no way to have fun. You must put yourself in a woman's hands. Let her decide how fast, or how slow, how hard, or how easy. As for me, I expect the most from my men. You're both so big and strong, and proud of your muscles. Well, you're penises mustn't be spared. Their training must be just as rigorous. That's why I keep these Penis Pumpers on hand. I mean, I have no use for them myself, hmmm? No, they're just for unruly customers, or, sometimes, if they're lucky, for special customers like you boys, big strong men used to having their way. Well, not in my house. The girls are yours to do as you please with, but we must always remember that between yourselves and me, I'm the one who sets the rules."

Louis shifted in his chair. He flexed his arms. They were like bull's flanks, wide and muscular. "I ought to walk over there and break your neck!" Louis scowled.

Rose flinched. Her skin was so white, so delicate, her neck rising from her bare shoulders constricted a moment, then eased. "Yes, I like finding the very roughest men, who can still be trained, though not, perhaps, by others, and breaking them to my will," she said. Her face looked a little worried, but she tried to smile. "It's that simple, Louis. Andre's no problem. I enjoy him, who wouldn't? But it's men like you I really seek, Louis. O.J. types, rough and tough and not afraid to take me on. I guess I try to scare myself a little. But anyway, there you have it, Louis. It's better to be truthful, I suppose. You could probably leap right up and strangle me, and kill everyone here to hide your crime, but that's what draws me to you, Louis. Please don't spoil it for me. Play along a little. Rein in your lust and your anger."

Like music in the ears of a savage beast, her high-pitched, lilting voice, so cultured, so civilized, seemed to quiet Louis' lust, though it did nothing to ease the condition of his erection. Perhaps he'd been looking for her. A woman who could find just the right way to break him. I felt immensely jealous, but knew I was learning too. I tried to copy Rose's poise, her shy self-assurance. She was very admirable, I thought. She could wrap men round her fingers, men other women wouldn't dare touch, and make them heel. Yes, heel. Louis was like a big dog, one that runs everyday, a thick-chested doberman perhaps, all black and brooding and deadly. He'd gone easy on me so far, but I knew he harbored vicious passions. They might spill out of control at any moment, and then who knew what might happen? If I weren't so young, he might have abused me already. Instead, he'd loved me with restraint, but it was a caged kind of restraint, the kind an executioner shows to a prisoner before he despatches her. Like Anne, I waited for my thousand days to be up. Perhaps that's what drew me to him, his awfulness, his pirate nature. As a little girl I'd snuck into a lion's cage once, crept close. He'd yawned, watching me. I'd yearned to stick my little head in his mouth, just once, to impress myself with my boldness. My girlfriend had watched, too scared to come into the cage with me. As I contemplated my chances of dying or living the keeper came, shouted, rescued me from the cage. I'd only been three, but I knew loins weren't just storybook friends. Girls could get eaten by them. I watched as he shut the cage door, made very sure it was locked. Now I was inside the cage again. Society had locked the door, most firmly. There were hotlines and neighbor patrols and community meetings, but I'd slipped into the cage again, found a loose latch, exploited it. And here I was, showing my cunt, so bad, yet loving how the men eyed me. Despite their imprisoned dongs they were looking at myself and Polly again, watching us breathe, watching our titties jiggle. Did they long to spurt in us? I knew they must.

I heard a tinkling sound. My face twisted to the side, my eyes confronted my companion.

"Polly, you're peeing!" I hissed.

"Of course I'm peeing! I have to go to the bathroom!" she declared. She was a frank creature. She did not understand the exquisiteness of trying to hold it, with the men watching. Maybe they relished the contrast between us, her so artless, so unaware, me knowing more, striving to be mature. As if she were in school, she peed into the bowl, her eyes observing the stream. It ended with a few golden drops. She watched them fall from her privates. She looked at Rose. "May I go now?" she asked.

"You just went, dear," Rose replied, laughing. Polly blushed. I felt my face go red too. The maid smirked.

"That makes me want to go too," Andre said.

"Does it?" Rose asked cheerily. "You may do so, Andre. Provided one thing..."

"What's that?" Andre asked. "Just tell me. I'll do it. I need to pee pretty badly."

Rose bent forward and grasped the hem of her skirt. Lifting it up her legs, she said, "You must let me pee in your mouth."

"What?!" Andre asked, his cry echoed by Louis. Rose got her skirt up above her waist and tucked it in there so it wouldn't fall back down again in front. I saw her legs were as flawless as I'd imagined them. Long and sleek, with thigh-high stockings making them into sheened columns, statuesque. Though I'd yet to see it, I knew her bottom must be a tight ball of desire, wiggling freely when she walked yet high and perfectly shaped, not yet broadened and fattened by children.

"Come, Andre," Rose said. "Not in your pump, of course, but to me, dear." She tugged on the cord which held them together. Andre responded. He got up and come to the woman who held his dong encased in the tube. I smiled at his haunches. They were striated with cane-marks, yet he seemed to have forgotten them, so deeply enmeshed was he in thoughts for his penis, held and captured by Rose and now held for ransom in return for a perverted act.

Andre knelt. Polly watched with amazed eyes.

"Don't worry, It's just a game," I assured her, though I'd never seen it played.

Rose lifted her heels onto her chair. She glanced at me, smiled. She was sitting like Polly and I now, though in better comfort. She scooted her bottom forward so that its forward edge might overhang the chair's seat. "Put your mouth right up to my cunt," Polly told Andre. "Don't let any of my pee spill on the floor." Andre obeyed. As his mouth drew close to her his breath exhaled. Rose shivered, tossed her head back. Like a man making a seal on something, Andre closed his mouth over Rose's pussy tightly, perhaps hoping to repay her for the vacuum she'd slipped on his dick. Rose sighed and gave a little cry. I knew Andre's tongue must be dabbling within her. "Alright, Andre, I'm going to pee now," Rose said. She looked at him as one might regard a puppy. Andre's cock waggled between his legs.

"Urck!" emanated from Andre's mouth, all covered up but still audible, the sound no doubt coming out his ears as he suddenly felt his mouth squirted with pee.

"Don't drink it, Andre. Just let it fill your mouth. That's it, exhale and inhale through your nose. Let your cheeks puff out. They can hold a lot of fluid. Yes, you're a good doggie, Andre. Let your mistress pee right into you. Enjoy the taste of her flow over your tongue. Don't fight it. Ahhh, you're my diaper, Andre. I love you."

When Rose was finished, Andre looked like one of those puffer fish you see in the ocean. She let him stand up and he looked around for somewhere to empty himself. Louis exploded into laughter, seeing his condition. "You should be paraded around in front of the other guests, you pantywaist!" Louis roared. Andre glowered at him but could say nothing for fear of losing the pee. The maid went into the bedroom, returned with a bowl. It looked like it might have held candies.

"In here," the maid said gruffly. Andre put his face over the bowl. He seemed like a dental patient, gazing into that bowl, his cheeks swollen. And then, with a spluttering whoosh, he dumped his mouthful of Rose's pee into it.

"Give him some bourbon to wash his mouth out," Rose told the maid. She nodded. She set the bowl aside, to take downstairs, and went to the little bar where our drinks were made. She poured a tall glass of bourbon for Andre, brought two empties along for him to spit into. Andre returned to his seat and gratefully received the new liquor. He cleansed his mouth most thoroughly. Rose eyed Louis. "My bladder is filling again," she warned him. Louis frowned and decided to look down at his cock. Rose eased the pressure a little, twisting the knob beneath the ball to let out some air.

"Thank you," Louis breathed.

"You're being very good, Louis," Rose complimented him. "Shall I leave my dress up? Do you like seeing my bush?" Her voice sounded curious, as if she wanted a true answer, not just a lusty remark.

"God, I love your cunt," Louis confessed. He looked from his own privates to hers. "Take the dress off, take everything off. Get on the floor and let me fuck you!"

"I'll start with the dress," Rose replied. She stood and unzipped herself in back. The garment fell down, pooled round her ankles. Daintily she stepped out of it. She turned about and presented her bottom to Louis' eyes. "Most men like my ass best," she grinned. It was perfect, round and upended like a bottom should be, with graceful twin cheeks that begged to be poked. She bent forward and gave her tushy a little wiggle.

"God, I could die in that ass!" Louis crowed.

"Well, Louis, you're about to," Rose replied. With a devilish grin she backed up to him. As the maid picked up her dress off the floor she stuck her butt right into Louis' face. I could see he was getting a brownnose, without even having to ask. "Do I smell good, Louis?" Rose asked. Louis, his nose apparently stuck inside her shithole, nodded as best he could. "Fuck me with your tongue," Rose insisted. "You know where. Put it right in. It will teach you a good lesson for speaking meanly to me."

As I watched with shocked eyes and a jealously burning heart, Louis introduced his tongue to Rose's butthole. She spread her cheeks with her hands and he found himself suddenly accommodated. Had she been enlarged to take a man more easily there? I did not know. His tongue browned, Louis began to fuck her with it just as he might have done with his penis. She laughed, then cried. Tears of joy, I guessed. How intimate, to have your love clean out your butthole for you! Louis tongued faster now, stabbing her repeatedly in her ass, making her moan and beg for more. She forced her perfect fanny back into him more, urging him deeper. As Andre watched, feeling suddenly let off easy, Louis gouged out Rose's hole with his darting tongue.

Rose slipped her hand down to her pussy and massaged her clit. Her delicate, long-nailed fingers worked expertly over her own sex. She shrieked with pleasure. How odd it felt to see our discreet, cultured mistress pleasuring herself, while my boyfriend reamed her butt. Somehow, feeling a little detached, I imagined I could be seeing my own mother, a few years younger perhaps, getting it from my dad. It seemed something I should not be seeing. Yet it was transpiring right in front of me, like two parents fucking in front of baby lying in the crib.

Polly gave a little cough. I looked at her, she at me. There was an ersatz smile on her face. Her teeth sparkled whitely.

"Did you get splashed?" I asked her, looking down at her bulbing bottom cheeks where they hung within the potty seat. It brimmed full with her pee.

"A little," she replied, lisping. I could tell she wanted someone to finger her. Her pussy lips puffed with temptation. Even fingering herself would have been quite satisfactory, I'm sure. I knew that's how she'd usually found pleasure in life, lying in bed, dreaming, her finger busy down below.

Louis must have had something of the true gentleman in him, despite all his hardness, his surlyness. For, as he strove to tongue Rose as deeply as possible (despite the obvious availability of his dick, which would have done the job much more completely) he reached to Rose's front with his hand. Gently he pulled her own sticky fingers away from herself and replaced them with his own much more expert ones. His calloused, hairy male digits carefully rubbed her round her spot, then a little over it, making circles, tiny circles, doing her with care and grace like a woman wants it, despite the fact she was making him clean out her bottom. Rose howled with throat-wrenching passion. She placed her hand over his and thanked him by pressing him more deeply into her. She abandoned herself to love, ramming her buttcheeks into his face again and again. I knew then why I loved Louis so much. He could be mean, and tough, and he loved to swagger, but when the chips were really down he gave his all, even if you teased and tortured him. He fondled you and kissed you and (yes) tongued you, a perfect gentleman in the throes of love, despite all that had gone before; the barbs, the slights, the arguments, the slaps and (if you provoked him enough) the beatings. And, looking at his cock, I knew the night wouldn't end simply with him tongue-fucking her. She, or somebody, was going to get Louis' glorious dick rammed right up her. Then he would be rough again, slamming himself into you and making you groan and making your body creak like all your bones would crack, until at last you lay under him puddle-like, all teary and honeyed and spent.

The maid ignored Rose's wanton cries. She freed Andre from his cock-tube, as his reward for being a human urinal for her mistress. Andre, his face delirious with delight at finally having his cock back, sank into his chair with its comforter and just sat a moment, staring at his erection, savoring how it swayed hugely above his crotch, as if saying, "Free at last! Free at last! Thank god I'm free at last." Cocks couldn't speak, of course, but his seemed like it wished to. His balls tremored underneath, his nuts swamped with sperm, hoping soon to ejaculate it.

Her skirts bustling round her, the maid approached us. She did not look at us. We were nothing to her. She placed a hand on the front of Polly's potty and to my surprise I saw the front of it open. The maid reached in and pulled out the bowl which held Polly's pee. She left with it, went downstairs. A minute later she returned with a clean bowl and put it in where the other had been. She snapped the front of Polly's toilet shut. Then she opened the front of my potty. She took out my bowl and looked inside. There was nothing there. I still held my pee inside me. She put my bowl back, closed up my toilet, and returned to her corner where she waited to serve us.

Rose finished her course with Louis. I heard footsteps on the stairs. The young girl who had served us earlier appeared. She held a plateful of steaming hot towels. A metal cover was over them, but the fat maid lifted it up, took out a towel, and went over to Louis. She wiped his face as a mom might clean up her five-year-old, fresh from the backyard mud. The young maid departed. I watched her go. I wished she would stay. I liked her better than the old one.

Standing, nude but for her stockings and pumps, Rose walked to the plateful of towels. Her hips swung with fulfillment. She had a gorgeous bottom, all round and boldly jiggling, with a free, swaying grace that announced she was a woman. She took a towel for herself, walked back to the men, and spoke quietly and cheerfully to them as she stood before them, toweling off her privates. Then she wiped Andre's dick with her towel to clean him up a little too. He'd been drooling precum like a baby drools spittle, watching her and Louis get it on.

"It's time to get you out of that horrid Pumper, Louis," Rose laughed to him. She knelt before him, gradually released the pressure in the tube, and then drew it off him. She tilted the tube to her eye and looked inside to make sure Louis hadn't spent any of his sperm in it. "Just precum," Rose said approvingly. The maid brought a towel and Rose wiped down Louis like she might do a horse, loving and cherishing his erection, making me jealous. I could do nothing but watch. My hands were still bound tightly behind me, locked in hard police steel, leaving my titties and pussy to whomever might wish to plunder them. I felt tender and vulnerable. I had no protection if one of them should choose to do something awful to me.

Rose gazed at me with cat's eyes when she was done wiping my boyfriend. "Fleury, you're proving quite a champion today, holding back your pee," she said to me. "But I'm afraid I'm going to have to encourage you a little. Polly's peed, and me too. Now it's your turn." She approached me. Beyond, the maid brought empty, narrow-necked liquor bottles for the men.

"What are these for?" I heard Louis ask. Rose turned, looked back over her shoulder. "Don't you have to go? Put your penis tip to the open neck of the bottle and see if you can fill it with dandelion wine, as we call it here. I'll make a girl drink it if you do. Some girl you don't even know. Piss in the bottle and fill it up for her. When you're gone, off at your job or elsewhere, you can remember your homemade bottle of wine here, and know that some female will be made to cherish every drop. Piss, Louis. A fine penis like yours must make excellent pee."

With that inspiration, Louis wedged the bulbous nose of his cock up against the open bottleneck and lustily let loose his urine. Andre did the same. Rose returned her gaze to me and put her fingers to my pussy. Lightly she tickled me.

"Doon't!" I cried. Beyond her I saw my boyfriend peeing, and Polly's, and suddenly she started a stream of her own. Rose put a hand between her own legs and, standing there before me, suddenly began peeing on the carpet. The maid rushed forward to catch what she could. I guessed she'd be the one to have to clean the rug.

"Pee with us," Rose urged, tickling my cunny.

"No, I, it's too perverted," I gasped. I did not want to be a full- grown girl of 14 peeing like a two-year old on a plastic potty. I felt a bubbling within me. I could not hold it! Suddenly, peeing over her fingers, I made my offering. Rose smiled. No more words were exchanged. We stared at each other, then both looked down into the bowl as my pee came out. It was utterly decadent. The moment seemed to last forever, the men peeing behind Rose, she herself wetting the carpet, the maid scrambling to get down between her legs with a teapot, the only thing she'd had to grab when Rose suddenly decided to go; and Polly, childishly peeing into her potty with not the slightest reservation. It was a potty, after all, and she was a girl who wished to go.

In a few moments all our bladders were empty. The men sat back down in their chairs. The young maid appeared, took their bottles away, inspecting the contents and thanking them for their contribution to the estate. The men's urine would brood in chilled wine cellars, next to expensive wines, until they were ripe and ready to drink. The finest pee- wine, aged to perfection, from men with impressive dongs and girl would beg to have put up her.

The older maid withdrew the teapot from between Rose's legs. She brought a hot towel for Rose to wipe her hand on. Rose cleaned her fingers. Then she let the maid withdraw my bowel and, when it was gone, she reached between my legs and toweled me with the hot towel. After she'd done me, and the maid had taken Polly's bowl away, she towelled Polly too. We both squirmed at the feeling of the towel, so steamy and hot, touching us in our most erotic parts. Polly let out a little yelp of pleasure as her own spot was cleansed and aroused. I guessed Rose might be preparing us for the next step. Being fucked. It could not be delayed much longer. The men were hard beyond belief, trembling with their hugely swollen balls, desperate to cum. Polly and I had been teased and tormented to distraction. Only Rose seemed calm. Perhaps that's why she had gone first. Being done with her orgasm, she could now cooly play the ringmistress to the rest of us. Yes, that must be it. She'd used Louis to bring her off so she could more accurately guide he and I as we did it, and Andre and Polly. That was our purpose here, wasn't it? To be mated. To make love to each other as we never had before.

Rose lifted each of my heels out of the little holes on either side of the potty which held them aloft. She set my feet down on the dresser. I felt sensible again, not all exposed like some underage tart, dreaming of being broken by the overseer out in the fields or in the stables. Rose took a key from the dresser and reached around behind me and unlocked my handcuffs.

Oh, how wonderful it felt! I lifted my arms and rubbed my wrists and inspected them. There were red marks where they handcuffs had bound them. "Stand up," Rose said. She took the tips of my fingers and helped me rise up from the toilet. With her hands guiding me I stepped down from the dresser. Then, she made me pause, a finger touched to one of my nipples. She took Polly's panties from the dresser top and smiled at me and told me to open my mouth.

Oh, God! I did not want to. But, somehow, I let her urge my teeth apart, and she replaced the panties in my mouth. "Go to Andre," she said. I shook my head no. My eyes were wide with disapproval. "Yes, Andre," she insisted. "I'll not have any opportunities wasted. He has a fine penis and I want you on it. Polly will have your lover this first night. You are still a slave, my darling. Go to Andre and take hold of his penis. Don't let him cum, or put it in you. Just hold it possessively like you would Louis', and I'll be with you momentarily."

I obeyed. Trembling, looking straight into Louis' eyes as I walked to Andre, who stood to receive me, I walked with swinging hips and naked, jiggling tits. I clasped Andre's penis as, somewhere behind me, Polly let out a squeak of dismay.

"Yes, Polly, she will have your wonderful boyfriend. But you will have Louis," Rose told her.

"I don't want Louis. He's too mean," Polly insisted. But Rose replaced her bra over her mouth and tightened it so that no more could be heard from her. She loosed her handcuffs and made her stand and guided her, wobbly-legged, her breasts bobbing like tennis balls on her chest, down from the dresser. Rose led her over to Louis and Polly looked for all the world like a first-grader being brought into the schoolhouse to meet her new teacher. Louis received her with a groping hug and kissed her deeply. Polly squealed unhappily as his broad palms gripped and explored her angel bottom. Andre patted mine. I knew how they both wanted us. They'd conspired together, I realized, and decided they must both have our buttholes. Polly's was already prepared. Rose turned me around and helped Andre part my cheeks. The maid brought vaseline and as I stood there, watching Polly embrace my boyfriend in a prolonged kiss, my asshole was prepared for fucking.

"Time for bed, gang!" Rose said cheerily when I'd been readied for love. Andre and Louis marched myself and Polly back into the little girl's bedroom. "Up on the bed, girls," Rose ordered. Together Polly and I scrambled up on it, not wanting to, but having to. Rose got out her whippy cane just in case we disobeyed. "Heads on the pillows, bottoms high," she said. I gulped. I prayed a fucking was all we were getting. Breathing hard with nervousness, Polly and I both crouched on the bed. Our heads bumped, then our hips. We were sisters of mercy, about to milk our men, and I hoped they'd be merciful.

Rose untied Polly's bra from her head and drew it off. "Oh, I want to go home!" Polly declared at once. Rose turned her attention to me and removed the panties from my mouth.

"Kiss for luck," Rose told us. We turned and looked back at her over the naked spheres of our heart-spit asses.

"Mayn't I please go home?" Polly repeated. Rose gave no answer. Instead she swung her cane in and caught us both at once in a sweeping stroke that burned into the tenderest, choicest part of our bottoms, right on the underside of our cheeks, where they meet with our thighs.

"Ooohoooo!" Polly and I both cried together, gasping into each other's open mouths. Then, realizing we'd misbehaved, and that there was no escape, we jammed our faces into each other and kissed for all we were worth.

"Very good," Rose complimented. "You'll need each other, girls. Get acquainted and comfort each other." She turned and took vaseline from the drawer of the nightstand and began greasing up the men. Oh, how I wished to be the one to lube those manly genitals, but the privilege fell to Rose. I was left with kissing little Polly, both of us nervous and scared. Someday, perhaps, I'd get to have my own castle and entertain studs, but right now I was still just an eighth-grader, out at night when I should be home studying. Would my mom worry about me? Suddenly I wished to be with her instead of here, nasty as she was, doing my chores and being a good daughter. But it was too late, too late!

30 ----------------------- Dreamgirls! -----------------------

Copyright Andrew Roller