The bed creaked. Polly and I felt ourselves bounce upon it as both Louis and Andre got in with us. Their cocks were enormous and Polly and I, wriggling our cane-struck bottoms, tried to peek back at them as we kept on kissing each other, lest we be smacked again. The men kneed their way forward like roosters, proud and tall and with penises stemming. I felt a bulbous cock-nose wedge itself into my indwelling bottomcrack. A bump against my anus. I remembered Max, his torments with quinine and dildoes, that had come so close to splitting apart my behind. Now danger loomed again, though it was natural cockflesh, hard and pulsing and definitely wielded by a male who would not be denied.

Polly cried in alarm as she felt Louis test her virgin hole. Oh, I pitied her. She had never had this before. Louis would be relentless, I feared. He was hungry as a tiger and his thing was gigantic. I heard Louis grunt as he forced his peehole into her, wedging her hole wide with his flaring penis head.

"No, no, no, no, I want to go hoooome!" Polly begged.

"Quiet, bitch!" Louis snarled. His voice sent a shiver of terrible fear down my own spine, and I was not even receiving him. Polly began crying. I shouted as Andre found me receptive and pushed his cock into me like a hard bolt being slammed into a lock. I guess Max's training had done a little to ease my tightness, if only at the psychological level. Instinctively I'd let my cheeks part to receive Andre, not even conscious of it, thanks to the long hours in Max's basement with a fake dong up my butt.

Polly had no such training. She compressed her valentine cheeks as tight as she could, crying all the while. Louis rammed her hard, making no headway. In frustration he rose from her bottom. He got off the bed, rocking it, his cock bitterly hard between his legs, swinging with febrile male impatience. He presented his erection to Rose. "She's impossible," he said. "Bend over. I cannot wait."

Rose smiled. She turned around and presented her ass to Louis. She bent double and placed her delicate hands on her ankles. "Not in my bottom, please," she said. "I have to take someone else there, later this evening, and he always fucks me quite hard."

"I don't care," Louis answered.

"Louis!" Rose cried in dismay. He took her in her ass even as I felt Andre ensconce himself to the full in me and begin to saw away. Polly knelt beside me, her face in her hands, weeping. Her bottom remained poised just as it had been before. The men worked Rose and I, forcing themselves in very deep, then drawing back, almost popping out of us, only to slam in again. I croaked and groaned and heard Rose moaning where she stood victimlike on the floor, still neat in her heels, her hair nicely coiffed, but twisted right over so that her lips kissed her knees.

"Please, just cum!" I begged Andre. He was drilling in and out of me like a maniac, delighted to find I'd been trained to show the least resistance to anal penetration.

"God, you're so tight! And yet, you know how to receive me, to work with me instead of against me," Andre marvelled. He shafted himself repeatedly in my buns, admiring his glistening cock on the outstroke, relishing its penetration when he thrust his hips forward again.

"You should date more -- more older girls!" I gasped. "We know how to dolooo it!" I was losing my ability to speak properly, he was buggering me so vigorously. Beside me, Polly in her innocence kept her face hidden. Her lofted bottom squeezed tight as it could to keep any men from attempting it. But I knew what that would get her. I said nothing. I was being fucked all the way to the promised land and back again, all in my little hole.

"Louis! Enough! Spurt, please!" Rose begged my boyfriend. "I can't take anymore!" He hammered her mercilessly. Perhaps Polly had been right to deny him, though she'd surely pay for it later, with pain across her bottom instead of inside it.

"I want to cum but I'm so hard I can't," Louis said gleefully, each word exploding separately from his mouth, like shells from a cannon. Rose screamed, high-pitched. Louis growled like a lion and his buttcheeks flexed tight. Somehow, just as with Polly's bottom, though I couldn't see with my eyes yet I could sense all just by hearing. She was tight as a kitten, too young to fuck, Rose was split wide and enduring, Louis' buttcheeks contracted to tight little buns as he now spewed his sperm into her backside. I was tight and loose at the same time, naturally tight but trained to give way to the penis. Andre shouted and I knew his beautiful white buns were squeezing themselves together, just as Louis' were, for suddenly I felt a wet gushing come shooting up my fanny.

Within a few minutes all was done. Our teasing had climaxed. We shuddered down from the heights of bliss to a sweat-sheened aftermath. I reached for Polly and kissed her mouth, lifting it from her hands, as her boyfriend withdrew himself from me.

"It was good, Polly, it was really good, you should try it sometime," I said to her maliciously. She whimpered and tried to resist my kisses, but was too awed by her circumstances to do so. She kept her bottom poised, naughtily, I thought, as if to beg for what she'd just refused. Did she want it or not? I could not tell. I don't think she knew. Rose stood and brushed back her long hair, turned and kissed Louis. Andre kissed my back, then my bottom, as I engaged Polly in a deep, feminine kiss, a kiss between sisters, though we were just friends.

"Let us have some refreshments," Rose said, parting at last from Louis. "I can stay a little longer before I have to go meet some more guests. Saturday's a busy night, you know. But it's been wonderful meeting you, Louis. You fuck like a monster. Somehow I'll have to talk my next guest out of taking me up my ass."

"It's your ass, not mine," Louis replied callously. I trembled. It was that carefree callousness that attracted me to him, yet it left me sure I'd find myself by the roadside someday, abandoned, pregnant with his child, while he went off to sow his seed elsewhere, a Johnny Appleseed of love.

Rose led us back into the private parlor. I drew up Polly from her posture of submission and she walked with me, holding my hand tightly, knowing she would probably have to pay for her disobedience on the bed. Rose sat back down in her chair, queenlike, and the men returned to their own comforter-clad seats. Rose rang for the maid and had her bring out two more comforters, one for her newly fucked ass and one for me. Polly was made to sit down with her bottom right on the rug. I got to sit beside her, on the rug, but with a comforter under me since I'd given up my anal privacy to Andre.

Punch was brought, liquor-laced, to ease us and make us feel comfortable. Mine tasted good. Polly liked hers. Rose smiled, sipped her punch. The men expressed a need to pee again and Rose told them to finish their punch, then pee in their empty glasses.

"Now Polly, you will have to relax those bottomcheeks and get over your inhibitions," Rose told the girl. Polly looked up at Rose, her eyes wide above the rim of her glass of punch, sipping it down slowly, watching as the floating orange peel in her cup drifted beneath her snub little nose. "You see, when you've been caned, then you'll be thinking so much about how your bottom hurts that you won't be able to resist a man up your hole. It's quite necessary, really. Men deserve to be able to fuck your bottom and you may as well let me get you going here, at the castle. I realize Louis might have been a little rough with you, but don't let that scare you. He was desperate, that's all. I took care of him, as it turned out." Rose shifted uncomfortably on her comforter. She touched her bottom with her fingers. "Really, Louis, that was awfully hard. I'm lucky I'm not bleeding."

"You're lucky you're not dead!" Louis chortled.

"You scare me sometimes, Louis," Rose answered. The maid set down a potty next to Polly for us to share. She got on it, perhaps hoping to escape the whipping Rose was proposing to her.

"My cup is full," Andre announced, looking down at his empty punch glass. It held his pee now, right to the brim.

"Empty it for him, Matilda," Rose told the maid. She took his glass, brought another. I wondered at her silence. She was so big and fat and old, so gnarly. Again I felt embarrassment at being nude in front of her, but there seemed to be nothing I could do about it. As Polly peed into the potty I looked around for something to wrap myself in, saw nothing.

Rose let a silence obtain. Her voice quieted, Polly's pee filling the potty was the only sound. Then Rose cleared her throat. She dipped her finger into her drink, drew it out, watched it drip a moment back into the punch, then licked it clean. "Men, I have another engagement," she said with a certain meekness. Yet there was a definiteness to her tone which seemed unbreachable. The men said nothing. Their cocks had been serviced, their faces seemed satisfied. It had been such an agony for them, waiting to spend, that I think they might have shot more than they'd hoped in coming, perhaps exhausting themselves. Still, their penises both seemed to flinch and rise a little at her words, especially Louis's. What was he up to?

"Girls, say goodbye to your men. You'll be staying with me awhile," Rose told me and Polly. Poor Polly, holding her drink delicately aloft as she peed, almost spilled it on herself.

"But- but," Polly blurted. And I knew what her objection was. In addition to losing her boyfriend, she had yet to cum. Her coyness had proven too coy. I saw her pat her tummy suddenly, then slide her hand lower. Rose gave her a warning look. She had kept her long, swishy cane with her and she sat with it across her knees. It kept the men in line as well as me and Polly. Despite her sumptuous breasts, Rose was delicate as a flower petal. She needed the cane, I knew. It was her only protection. Night after night she must play this dangerous game, teasing powerful men, yet always, somehow, maintaining control, often with just her well- wielded cane coming between herself and them. How had she fared when she was still inexpert with it? I guessed she'd had to learn fast, to keep herself from being raped and killed by men in the throes of passion.

Louis stood. His frame rippled with his powerful muscles, seemingly chiseled from stone, now all in subtle movement as he walked first to Polly and, bending low, lifted her hand. He kissed it. She watched him with big eyes, preschooler eyes, as she sat on the Potty, the last wisps of her pee sprinkling into the toilet.

"Goodnight, little cunt," Louis said sardonically to Polly. Then he came to me. He thrust his rising cock at my lips, arching his hips into my face. At the same time he reached down and patted my head, fondled my hair. "Be good," he told me. Reluctantly, not liking the blatantness of it, I kissed his penis for him. He made me kiss him right on his pee hole. There was no way to avoid it. Polly giggled.

Andre presented his loins to Polly and, at a cross word from Rose, she was forced to kiss her boyfriend's pee hole just as I had been. Then both men left us. They exited through the little girl's bedroom. The maid followed them, to gather their clothes for them and help them dress.

"Oh, please don't go," Polly commanded in a whining voice from the throne of her potty. Rose remained seated in her chair, waiting for the men to pass out. The maid closed the door to the little girl's room a moment later, and I heard her lock the door.

The young maid entered the room. Curiously, she was naked, her hair tousled, her cunny wet and showing signs of having been fucked. The night was growing late. All who might were partaking now, I guessed, maids and guests alike. The maid trembled with repressed lust. Had she been interrupted in mid-fuck? Rose looked up at her, surprised. I guessed she did not know the maid, perhaps with the connivance of the old one, had been getting bonked downstairs.

The girl bent close to her mistress and whispered in her ear. "Oh my," Rose replied. Suddenly she seemed to forget entirely that our maid was nude and wet. Something more pressing had been brought to her attention. "Oh, well," Rose looked at us. "It's hardly what I'd hoped for, but these two are the only two available," she mused aloud to herself. Polly stood up from the potty. Her luck seemed to be turning worse every moment she sat there. "Girls," Rose said abruptly. "Come downstairs with me." Rose stood up, a mood crossing her countenance that dictated complete obedience.

"Oh, but what for?" Polly asked. She made to sit down on her potty again. I could smell her pee in the bowl. I wished she would not add more to it.

"Do not ask why," Rose replied. "But to keep from splitting my cane across your backside, I'll tell you that you've won a little reprieve. We're going out, girls. And here I was just getting you all ready, Polly, for a nice whipping. Well, you hardly drank any of your punch, anyway. Good. You'll need to be alert. Flurry, no more punch for you. Give me your glass."

Reluctantly I got up from my comforter, straining to rise and unbend myself. I'd been happy, sitting on the floor, sipping my liquored punch, letting my well-reamed ass close in on itself again. Andre had been big, and my bottom wished simply to sit and recover. But I was forced to turn over my half-empty glass to Rose, who handed it to the maid. The young female looked at it a moment, then gulped it down.

"Never mind," Rose said to her, and stepped past the girl. Then she turned, gazed at her again, and handed her the cane she carried. "Take this and whip yourself with it," she said. "You deserve it, for dereliction of duties, but I haven't the time to whip you for getting laid on the job. Make sure you have some nice stripes on your ass when I come back or I'll do it myself." Rose then beckoned Polly and I. Seeing a chance to depart from the presence of the cane, Polly and I quickly followed. As we went down the steps I turned once, saw the maid trying to whack her own hiney with the cane. She looked silly, trying to stick her ass out, only to draw it in when she banged the cane down upon herself. I turned and went downstairs. A little howl trailed down the stairs after me. I guessed she'd finally managed to mark herself, regretted it. Would she continue? I did not know.

I found myself in a large storeroom at the base of the stairs. A flour sack had split open and lay with its contents upon the floor. Nearby a naked man stood. He looked like a gardener. He held a cap with a feather in it over his genitals. There was a little flour on him. Rose laughed, seeing this male specimen standing buck naked amidst the soup cans and preserved fruit and dried meat, the rows of boxed foodstuffs and the sacks of potatoes.

"Is the maid preparing you for dinner?" Rose asked. The man replied in Spanish. I could not understand him. I guessed he was the paramour of the girl upstairs who was now inexpertly trying to flog herself. Rose passed on, we followed. Polly turned to peek at the man's butt as we passed.

"He has cute buns," she confided to me. She sounded like she'd not said such a compliment before, as if she were trying it out for the first time.

"Don't try to be naughty, Polly," I said to her. "You're naughty enough as it is, just being yourself."

"No I'm not," she pouted. "I just wanted to see, that's all."

"You just want someone to stick his big thing up you," I teased.

"No I don't!" she insisted. We might have continued this banter, but Rose guided us outside into the darkness and chilliness. The midnight sky opened up overhead. Except for a light on what I guessed was gardener's shed, we stood in moonlight and starlight only. I looked up, Polly did too. Our earthly thoughts were forgotten.

"Ooooh, I see the big dipper!" Polly said, pointing.

"That's the Southern Cross," I replied. Or was it Orion? There were so many stars.

"Bend over, you two, I've got to wash your bottoms," Rose announced from behind us. How did she get back there? I heard a splashing sound. I turned and saw she'd got hold of a hose. There was a gurgling as the hose filled itself to full force. Rose lifted the hose. Polly and I stood wonderingly a moment. Then, grabbing her hand, I bent low and took her with me. I fixed my gaze on the shed with the light on it down in the mellowing fields. Summer was upon them, the cool night sky of summer consoling them after a long day's heat.

"EEEEEeeeek!" came wailing into my ears, and I thought it was Polly for a moment, then realized it was the girl upstairs. I heard a gruff voice. Was it the man we'd seen in the storeroom? There was a sound like the wind, though far off, as if blowing from the upstairs window, and the girl screamed again. I heard a distinctive crack of palmstem, singing as it met with fulsome bottomflesh. How could there be a window upstairs, I wondered? I'd seen none. Perhaps it had been covered over, to allow us privacy. Obviously the young maid's suitor now wished to let in the night air. If her cries at being punished entertained his fellows out in the shed or the huts of the field hands, so be it. They would no doubt congratulate him for his exertions, I guessed.

"Yeeeek!" Polly shouted next to me, right in my ear. My cry joined hers as I felt the ice-cold hose water whoosh upon my bottom.

"Hold still, girls, we haven't time for a bath," Rose admonished us both as we leapt up. I looked back at her a moment, then decided I wished to have Andre's seed washed out of me however I might. It felt like the Antarctic was going up my bottom, but no matter. I took Polly round her waist and made sure she suffered with me. After all, it was her boyfriend's spunk that had been pumped into me. We both bent over again, and Rose applied the hose to our backsides. Polly hooted in dismay, even as the girl upstairs yelled anew at the ass-searing cane. She was too hot on her derriere, we were too cold. There seemed to be no happy medium here. Our cries mingled, each of us wishing we could trade places.

Rose gave me the hose a moment later and bent over. She directed me to clean off her bottom, just as she'd done to me. I took the hose and, with a gleam of revenge in my eyes, happily made her scream as I doused her with the water. It was the temperature of an ice berg. Polly stood shivering nearby, watching, holding herself. The screams of the girl upstairs subsided into sobs. Soon I heard her moaning, and a cry of "deeper!" wafted down, mingled with the urgent grunts of her boyfriend. She would need the hose next, I surmised.

"Come, we must dress. There is really no time!" Rose said. She stood erect again and took my hand, casting aside the hose. She did not bother to turn it off. We hurried back inside. I felt grateful for the warmth of the storeroom as we passed back into it. We did not go back upstairs. Instead Rose led us into a laundry room. There I saw clothes neatly folded in piles, as well as more waiting to be washed. I imagined the old maid worked down here, laundering clothes, seeing and smelling everyone's residue after they'd fucked. The discarded panties, the torn bras, the sheets with their distinctive, tell-tale wet spot.

"Ah, the satin sheets. These were on the bed where Lord Astor entertained his new lady friend last night. What was her name? Miss Elginvale, yes. Runs the local children's charity in town. Always on T.V. I like her jewels," the washerwoman would murmur to herself. She would know all the gossip, intimately, just by sniffing the sheets.

Rose rummaged through the pile of clean laundry. She found two pair of cutoff shorts and handed them to us. We took them, still dripping wet. "Oh yes, a towel!" she declared. She got towels for each of us, finding them in the stack of clean laundry, then pulled t-shirts out for us too, and scarfs to tie around our necks, that we might not be too plain.

"Oh, I have to get these stockings off!" Rose said of herself. She yanked down her hose. "Take off your heels if you like, and I'll give you tennies," she added.

A few minutes later we emerged from the laundry room. We were ready to go out on the town. At short notice, I thought we looked pretty good. There'd been no time for bras or panties. I wore a simple pair of cutoff shorts, cut too high in the back, I thought, where my bottomcheeks hung out a little. They were frayed and there was no belt for them, but they did the job of covering my most important parts, except for the little hole over my bottomcheek, the right one, giving a sneak preview to people that I wished they might not have.

For my top, I wore a tee-shirt with short, rolled sleeves turned up to my slim shoulders, with the midriff knotted off to show my tummy. A scarf was knotted round my neck, making me look like a cowgirl. I wore old but clean tennis shoes. Rose gave me a cowboy hat to make me feel special.

Polly wore cutoffs like mine. Her bottomcheeks peeked out the bottom of her shorts, jiggling as she walked ahead of me. Her shorts were already wedged in her ass. She wore no panties. She seemed not to mind. I think she liked the feeling of her shorts pressing tightly to her. She'd not been fucked. Perhaps she hoped the shorts would allay her desire a little. She'd not been as fortunate as I in the matter of a shirt. Hers was simply cut off at the midriff-point. There was too little of it to tie. And her shirt was sleeveless. You could look within the big armholes cut in the side of it and see her breasts looming within, the pert undercurves of her breasts. Distinctly her nipples stood out from her shirt, lifting it. The material was thin and if it had not been dyed yellow I think I might have seen right through it. There was a faded beer can imprinted on the front of her shirt. The bottom of the can was missing, as was the portion of the shirt on which it had once been imprinted.

Polly tugged worryingly at the hem of her shirt. "I need something better than this if I'm to go dancing," she proclaimed. Rose swatted her jean-clad bottom.

"You have a cute bellybutton, and nice tits," Rose answered. "Don't be so shy, dear. It's after midnight. There will only be other girls like there, like you, a little older perhaps, and guys."

"That's what I mean!" Polly protested. "Can't I have your shirt?"

"No, dear, you're the youngest. You're the only one who can fit into that shirt. My boobs are much bigger than yours, and Fleury's are bigger, too," Rose answered her. "Now be good and don't complain. I did the best I could for you."

"Oh, when will I have boobies as big as Flurries'?" Polly whined. Her face pouted.

"Yours aren't that much smaller," I assured her.

"Then let me have YOUR shirt!" Polly begged.

"Just don't bend too far over," I laughed. Sulkily she ceased her complaining, knowing she was stuck with what she had. Rose took us through the house and out the front. A limo waited. We slipped within and Rose told the driver to take us into town.

I looked over at Rose as we settled into the car's back seat. Despite her hastily-chosen attire, she looked like a million dollars, as usual. Her hair had been quickly repinned atop her head. She'd touched up her makeup, using a kit in the laundry room and staring with brief but effective intensity into a cracked mirror next to the dryer. A peasant blouse bared her tanned shoulders and absorbed the fullness of her breasts. She wore no bra beneath it. Her nipples tweaked the light material and lifted it in tiny twin peaks. The blouse hugged her ribs, leaving her belly bare, showing how smooth and soft it was, how invitingly it offered itself to men who dreamed of being fathers.

Riding low on her hips Rose wore a leather miniskirt. She had no undies underneath. It was all that separated her from the hands of would- be lovers. She had it tucked beneath her now, it barely cleared her bottom. Her long thighs shone whitely in the moonlight that bathed the limo's cabin. Rose had her window down to let in the night air. Inside, a heater hummed to keep us warm. Pee wee boots with rowelled spurs fitted themselves to Rose's feet. Like us, she wore a scarf, though only Polly and I had cowboy hats. In compensation, perhaps, Rose wore leather gloves with beaded Indian designs upon her hands.

Rose lowered a mirror, flicked on a light, and checked her makeup again. She had a purse with her, unlike Polly and I, and she opened it and drew out a tube of lipstick. She did her own, then passed it to Polly. Sitting between us, Polly had discovered a small hairdrier tucked into the limo and had put it to use on her hair. I kept my hat on. I hoped she'd finish soon. I did not want to ride around with wet hair, though I was farthest from Rose's open window. Rose herself had dried her hair with a blowdrier in the laundry room, but ushered us out to the car before Polly and I could make use of it.

Rose passed a hairbrush to Polly. "Comb out your hair, we must look our very best," she told the girl. "Then let Flurry do her hair too."

"Okay," Polly replied. She was happy now. Absorbed in herself, she brushed her long locks. Rose passed me her makeup kit and told me there was a mirror pinned to the ceiling above my head. I drew it down. It hung by a hinge from the interior roof. I flicked on its light.

"Not too much," Rose warned me. "I don't want you to look older than you are. That would spoil the fun." I looked at her, saw her smiling, but decided to heed her advice. Young girls with too much makeup on didn't look mature, they just looked silly. I pushed back my cowboy hat. Carefully I traced my lips with the lipstick. Rose passed me eyeshadow and I brushed out my lashes. I applied some rogue to my cheeks. Then Rose managed to part Polly from her blowdrier and I took off my hat and did my hair.

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

Copyright Andrew Roller