As I was led away, Polly silent behind me, finally sucking on her straw once more, I saw the woman who had arrived with my new friends sit down on Joanne’s lap and frankly take hold of her face and kiss her. Sylvia, sitting next to Joanne, began stroking both girls’ hair, as if to play mistress. Rose told Polly not to suck up the residue of her drink, putting air in her belly, but to ask the maid to bring another instead. I passed the maid going out. She glanced at me, a superior look on her face.

“What- what’s your name?” I asked the woman now shepherding me to some new fate.

“Beverly,” she replied. She had long lustrous brown hair, piled atop her head at the moment, just as mine was. Her bosom, caught up in a dress that had a single strap looping behind her neck, joggled freely, no bra beneath, the dress itself serving as her only support. I guessed she was approaching 30, though she looked quite beautiful. She had an air of experience, helping me peg her age. She was taller than me, and held me close to her, as if to keep me from harm. As the door closed behind us I heard the rain falling quite heavily outside. The last word I heard from Rose was a demand to the maid to close up the windows lest they all be blown away.

With me naked, wearing my manacles which Beverly did not, thankfully, insist on suiting me up in, in the behind-the-neck posture, we travelled through the house and up the wooden staircase by the front door. I saw no one else, though I heard laughter in the distance, and what seemed like idle conversation. It was mid-afternoon. Not normally, perhaps, a time for sex, except for unsupervised schoolchildren. But Beverly and her boyfriend seemed ready to go, and I sensed there would be no delay.

“I’m Jack,” the man told me. I did my best to seem demure, looking up at him with lowered lashes. I let him take my hand and, holding it limply, I watched as he kissed it. Beverly laughed.

“He won’t be quite such a gentlemen when he puts it to you,” she said. I glanced down at his pants again and saw he was stiffer than ever. Our time in bed promised to be most exacting, with a tool like that to be satisfied!

“Did somebody powder your bottom?” Beverly asked as we walked, patting my heinie.

“Yes,” I replied a little guiltily. She asked no more. We came to a door in the upstairs hallway and Jack withdrew a key from his coat pocket and opened it. We stepped inside. It was a bedroom, with a large bed, big enough to easily handle all three of us. Jack closed the door behind us and locked it.

“Oh, I see you’ve come with your own bondage gear,” Beverly said. She touched a finger to my dog collar, inserted it, checked its tightness. “Good.” She put a hand to my wrist and felt the steel which bound it. “These may come in handy,” she said, with a look of promise in her eyes, as if taking them off, perhaps (though in fact they were locked) would be wasting an opportunity.

I stood between her and Jack, looking up at her, feeling Jack behind me. It was a tense moment for me, with two strangers staring down at me in my nudity, literally evaluating me for sex. “Have you been taken up your behind?” Beverly asked me. Sheepishly I replied that I had.

“Fine,” Beverly answered. “And your cunt, too?”

“Yes,” I nodded.

“Jack and I prefer companions with a little experience,” Beverly assured me. “Let’s dress up, shall we?” She took me by the crook of my arm, pulled me away from Jack who, I think was about to encircle my waist with his arms and grind his pelvis into me. I was surprised at this move. I think Jack was too. Perhaps Beverly, sensing the level of Jack’s interest in me, wished to delay things a bit, cool him down, make him wait, re-establish her control.

“Take off your clothes, please, Jack,” Beverly told him. “We’re going to give you a treat you’ve never had at any of those engineering conferences.” Jack’s face turned red. I realized what she meant. He’d been getting some ‘on the side,’ away from her, while off conventioneering. I guessed he must be an engineer. With a fleeting look at his risen erection I knew it was a perfect occupation for him. He’d need a crane, I thought, to hoist him up when he got old, he was so big. I saw him undoing his belt just as Beverly pulled me inside the bedroom’s adjoining bath. How was it that I kept meeting men with oversized cocks? Perhaps my oversized bosoms had something to do with it.

“Unzip me, please,” Bev said in no-nonsense fashion once we were alone inside the bathroom. It was plush, with a pink rug and pink towels and a big sunken bath that I could already imagine myself soaking quite happily in once Jack had riven me with his tool. Standing on tip-toe, though I didn’t really have to, but feeling a little precious, perhaps, I unzipped the back of Bev’s dress.

The slinky black leather gown, made of the slimmest possible material, came off Bev like leaves opening to let a flower bloom. Inside the black sheath her skin was porcelain white. She stepped from her gown like the Venus I’d envisioned rising from the sea. She primped before a mirror, pushing at her hair atop her head, and then turned to me.

“What do you think?” Bev asked me. “Do you think I’m a suitable playmate?”

“You LOOK like a Playmate,” I answered truthfully. She had big, bold bosoms that stood right up on their own, despite her maturity. Her waist was slim and her hips full, with a neat delta of pubic hair twixt her legs, offering more pleasure than most men could hope to bear (save Jack, perhaps, with his big tool). I shivered in her presence and dipped my knees a little in tribute to her amazing figure. I wondered what Polly would say if she were here. She’d probably just look, then go back to sucking on a straw or something, she was so little, compared to me. But I’d snuck Playboy’s as a child out of my Dad’s bathroom and I knew a gorgeous woman when I saw one. “I hope I grow up to be as beautiful as me,” I admitted. I felt my bosoms hanging from my ribs, big but smaller, of course, than hers, and wondered if I’d be lucky enough to grow as big as she had.

Beverly reached out and cupped my girlish gourds with both her hands. She hefted them. “I wish I’d looked as pretty as you do at your age,” she complimented. “Just how old are you, anyway? You don’t look a day over 15.”

“I’m fourteen,” I answered. She started, letting her head flinch back, then gave a warm sigh. “So you’ll be even chestier than me in a few years, and I’ll be over 30 by then,” she said. “I’m jealous. I’ll make good use of your manacles for sure, young lady,” she said. Then she smiled. She kissed my forehead. “You are lucky to be able to enjoy the fullness of your sex at such a young age,” she told me. “I had such strict parents! They sent me to a baptist college and I, fool that I was, let them. I didn’t get sexually active until just a few years ago and now, with due respect to the feminists, bitches that they are, I’m heading fast for the Over the Hill Bar and Grill, as one might call it. The 30 plus crowd. You at least will make up for all the time I lost. Don’t worry, I at least won’t make it difficult for you. We’ll have fun. Come, lets get on some sexy little corsets and give Jack a wild ride. Or ourselves, actually, considering the state his prick will be in when we come out.”

I followed her to a folding closet door, which she bent back. Within were piles of towels, washcloths, a bath pillow, a bristled brush, a Loofah sponge, and a rubber ducky. Under the ducky were, folded very neatly, as if just put there a few minutes earlier, two female nighties. Bev reached in, moved the duck, and unfolded what turned out to be a corselette. “This one’s for you,” she said. It was pretty, colored pastel red with blue ties. She drew it on me. “Take a deep breath,” she said, and I obeyed. With my cheeks turning blue from holding my breath as long as I could, she laced the corselette tightly up my front, squeezing my belly and, at last, my bosoms, so that I was sure they’d burst out the top. Somehow they hung in there, making the lace trimming along the top of my corselette tremble. To my surprise, inspecting it once I had it on, I realized that little decorative ties actually held aloft satin triangles over my corselette’s otherwise open cups. My corselette, but for the twin triangles, would have been a bare-bosom corselette, despite being tightly tied on. The triangles had such a job covering me that, in straining outward with my fullness, they left narrow slits of flesh on either side of themselves, showing what a little slip of the drawstring that held them up would reveal.

“Here, put these on,” Bev said with a mischievous grin. A pair of panties, but with the same nasty little triangle in front, which, if untied, would show off my mons without Jack even having to go to the trouble of pulling my undies down. The back, of course, was a g-string, but with a neat flutter bow, big and wide and flirtatious, to show off at the top of my asscrack. I slipped into the panties. Pulling them up, I found they didn’t get much higher than the top of my pubic hair. Little curls of my hair sprang out between the slits where the triangle didn’t cover me. Here, it wasn’t a question of being too full. I had fleecy pubic hair and a tight pussy. The danged triangle at the front of my panties just didn’t quite cover me along the sides of itself, that’s all. So wisps of pubic hair showed, leaving me feeling quite naked despite the fact that the panties were actually supposed to help me be modest. More modest, at least, than I had been, with nothing on, yet somehow I felt more indecent now!

I pulled on stockings that went up almost to the tops of my thighs. Then Bev gave me gloves which, it turned out, were full length and even had fingers. They were my most modest piece of clothing but, covering just my arms, they hardly did me any good. Lastly Bev helped me into a pair of adjustable heels. They fit quite nicely, I found. They were made of many little buckles and straps which she diligently laced together so that I felt more bound on my feet than anywhere else. Mercifully, perhaps, for our bedroom play, the spiked heels were blunted at their tips. Maybe the manufacturer knew where these would end up! They were brand new, of course. I guessed they never left this closet, except to visit the bed.

Bev gave herself a more liberal garment. She slipped into a bustier. It had many little ties down its front, all made of lace. I had to take my gloves off to do them up for her. She drew in her breath a little, but not much, for the bustier was so filmy it wouldn’t have held her. Brimming over the top of it, her bosoms offered just their nipples. Below the rest was held in. But the effect was obscene, for with the base of each breast compressed, her nipples extruded over the top like tiny cow’s udders begging to be milked. The straps, each tied with a bow, lest they come off, were alongside the outer edges of her bosoms, squeezing them together to make her look even more milkable.

Garter straps hung down from the bustier and Bev had to find stockings to attach to them. For some reason, the stockings were hidden under a towel. Perhaps somebody liked the effect of a bustier with dangling garters, but Bev didn’t want to start off that boldly. With prim hands, slipping on fingerless gloves tied off at the elbow, she slid on stockings and attached them to her garters. I hoped Jack didn’t detach them. The stockings had no elastic in their tops and would fall down instantly the moment the garters were unclipped from them. She looked quite delicate, all dolled up in her bustier. Yet I watched as she rummaged about in the closet until she found a crop, way at the back, behind the towels, perhaps hidden there by somebody with the courage of Polly, whom, I knew, liked not the least the thought of having her heinie whacked. I didn’t either, but I knew I could find the courage to endure it if I had to. Bev handed me the crop to hold (I knew she would take it back, in my heart) and put on a pair of panties. I guess she pulled those on last because, after all, they’d probably come off first. They had to be tied along the sides to stay up. They trapped her garters beneath them.

In a final touch of femininity, Bev put on a lace mini-robe. It matched her bustier, gloves, and stockings. It was open in front (there was nothing to close it with) and had short sleeves that didn’t even come down to her elbows. The hem fell to her hips and left all below bare. Yet it added a kind of glamorous quality to her that I envied. She wasn’t just in a little bedroom playsuit. She had a robe on too, albeit a filmy one, patterned in see-through patterns of lace and making her more mature. I was just a little toy, suited up tightly, with my tailbone flourish, a bow that teased the eye with the sight of my naked fanny waggling beneath it.

Putting on heels, Bev piouretted before the mirror. The heels were new ones she’d brought just to play in the castle. Then she walked over to me, took the crop out of my hand, and placed my hand in her free one.

I felt a sudden panic of fear. We were done with dressup. Now it was bedtime, and I had the manacles and she had the crop. I knew only her first name, nothing more. She could be an escaped convict for all I knew, straight from the women’s prison, all dolled up to find a man and then, having him, to return to the lesbian games she’d learnt behind bars. And who was Jack?

“I haven’t had anything at all to eat except a croissant,” I told her. My stomach felt empty but, in fact, not hungry, though I tried to look like it did.

“We’ll order room service,” Bev smiled. “Something gooey to get us started.”

“I-I have to pee,” I admitted. I could feel those drinks and that Purple Slurple in my bladder.

“There’s a chamber pot in the bedroom,” Bev replied.

“There’s a potty right here!” I said, pointing to the toilet with my gloved hand.

“Jack’s not here,” Bev said. “Would you like me to invite him in?”

“No,” I admitted.

“Then let’s go!”

“But-” I began, only to find her dragging me straight to the bathroom door and then, opening it, through it and out to Jack.

Omigod! He lay on the bed, buck naked, with a huge staff sticking up as if he were Moses about to herd all Israel’s sheep. It was the biggest penis I’d ever seen! Now I knew why Bev had said they both preferred girls with a little experience. You’d need a lot to take a member like that!

The maid entered. Magpie, Matilda, waht was her name? I’d forgotten it. Flushing from my tip to my toes I watched as she passed me in my birthday suit-playsuit and placed the tray neatly on Jack’s belly. It was hard. It could have held up an elephant. The tray brimmed with a New Year’s revelry of gooey, slurpy items. Pancakes soaked in syrup, a basket of hot buns, a bottle of honey, three cups of steaming cocoa (I hoped the tray didn’t tip over!) and a tube of whipped cream. In addition, right on the tray with our food, was a string of new Ben-Wa balls, vaseline, colored condoms, and a big plastic bottle of Hershey’s Chocolate Syrup, with no discernible use for it as far as I could see, at least with respect to the food.

“Please leave the door unlocked, Maria,” Bev told her. “You may stay yourself if you like.” Maria nodded politely, in her rustic way, that she would not. Rose was downstairs and no doubt would need her. “Then put the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on the door but, if you please, drape a condom over it,” Bev instructed. She took me by the hand to the bed and reached over to the tray and lifted a condom from it, handing it to Maria. “People will understand what it means, I hope. It means they can enter and watch, or perhaps play, with our permission.”

Maria nodded, turned and left. She switched the Do Not Disturb sign from the inside handle to the outside handle of our door as she departed. Then Bev clapped her hand to my naked bottom and urged me up onto the bed. “Don’t knock over Jack’s tray, you’ll scald his balls,” Bev told me with a merry note in her voice as I scrambled across the bed on my hands and knees. She got up after me, and I found myself facing her across Jack’s legs with his dong sticking up underneath us. Beyond, the tray waited. Bev took my face in her hands and kissed me freely upon my mouth. Relenting, I let her probe inside with her tongue and, although I fought her a little at first, I soon found myself responding my sticking my own tongue in her mouth when I could. Jack watched all, his huge organ trembling with delight. I knew he must have wished he could stroke himself but I sensed he was too excited already to do that.

“Let’s play with his penis,” Bev urged me when she finally let me get some air from her kiss. I caught my breath, feeling my boobies wobble within my corset, and then picked up the honey bottle from the tray as Bev took hold of the chocolate syrup.

Bev looked at me and we both felt the need to kiss again. As we kissed a second time, briefly letting our gooey treats fall from our hands, she clasped each of my breasts. When she had given each a good squeeze she undid the ties. My bosoms sprang from within their cups, offering themselves to her and Jake even as they remained surrounded at their base by the lacy holes in my corselette. Bev cupped each of my breasts and squeezed them hard, almost making me yelp. Then she bent and put her lips to them and, suckling them, bit them too, just a little, to remind me she was in charge, I guess. I begged her to stop. I was scared. But she did no more than put little teeth marks in the stems of my nipples which I could only guess were there. I could not see them. It’s not too easy to see teeth marks on your nipples.

I sighed at her boldness. I picked up my honey bottle and squirted honey onto the tips of each of her squeezingly offered teats. A little ran down onto the front of her bustier.

“Oh! Look what you’ve done! You’ve gotten honey on my bustier!” Bev scolded me.

“I’m sorry,” I replied truthfully. I bent and began licking at her nipples first, to get off the honey I’d playfully squirted there.

Bev reached down to my hips and undid, one by one, the pre-tied drawstrings of my panties, which I’d only had to adjust, not lace together, after putting them on. Now, in short order, the work was undone, completely, and I felt them slip away from me, with only the part wedged in the lips of my pussy hanging on. Bev lifted my face from her boobs and bent her head way down. She placed her palms within my thighs, urged them apart, and bit the dangling fabric of my panties. With a simple tug she nipped them out of my puss. I was quite naked there now, just as I’d been before, but with a tight corset binding my middle (though not, any longer, my boobs) and stockings and gloves and heels on.

“Crawl up to the head of the bed and let Jack give your pussy a licking,” Bev told me. I was about to comply when she stayed me, picked up the whipped cream, and handed it to me. “He’ll want to clean me out,” she said simply. “Put some in my panties so he can do me after he does you.” Gaily, not minding in the least, I pulled open the front of her delicate panties and filled it up with whipped cream. She discarded her see-through robe behind her just as I did it, to get it out of the way. Jack watched all with his cock and balls tense, loving it, but longing for us too, I knew. Why is it that we girls are happiest when we force men to wait? I don’t know.

With Bev properly creamed, we both had the sudden idea of decorating Jack’s handy cock. Bev took the Hershey’s syrup and upended it and dribbled chocolate all over Jack’s cock while I watched with baited breath. Then it was my turn. I got to top him off with whipped cream.

“I’ll race you to the bottom!” Bev told me. I couldn’t resist. With Jack howling with pleasure, we both licked our way all the way down his shaft. Every moment I was sure he’d replace the whipped cream we’d licked off his peehole with bubbling white sperm of his own. But somehow, he survived. When we got down to his nuts we each took one in our lips and sucked him hard, making him shout that he felt like he was being castrated!

“Okay, now a little treat for your hiney hole,” Bev told me.

“No!” I protested, but she took me by the hair, bent me over, pressing my face into Jack’s cock, actually bending him down under my face, and put the tip of the Hershey’s bottle to my anus. I was so anxious about getting messy that I didn’t even realize how wonderful it was to have her boyfriend’s iron rod being bent down under my face cheek. I felt an oozing squirt and the next thing I knew Bev had shot chocolate syrup up my ass!

“Okay, now up top so he can tongue-fuck you into oblivion,” Bev told me. Our night was begun. From now on, I knew, it would be one long orgy of mouths and hands and holes to genitals, over and over, with no stopping until I was called away or we dropped from exhaustion. Too crazy with lust to say no, I hustled my heinie up to Jack’s face and sat myself on his unshaven jaw.

I was wild! His bristly face was pressed up between my creamy thighs, and I found myself clamping myself to him with my legs, letting his calloused palms find my bottomcheeks and stroke and cup them, pinching them a little, though not enough to leave marks. As my white bottom settled onto her lover’s face and occupied his hands, Bev took up position at Jack’s cock. She undid tiny ties underneath her pussy lips, making her modest panties into crotchless ones. The whipped cream I’d squirted in her began to ooze out a little, but she acted too quick for much of it to escape. She mounted Jack, getting herself over his erection, then putting him in her with some difficulty. I guessed she’d had even less sex than she’d let on to. Jack bucked his hips a few times, to lodge himself deeper, but otherwise kept his hands glued to my asscheeks and his face in my pussy. Somehow, he kept our tray steady on his belly, despite our shenanigans. I wondered if he’d had a job once as a waiter, perhaps delivering singing telegram trays?

I cried out with glee as Jack drove his tongue between my female lips. In back he inquired of my drippy chocolate-anointed hiney hole with his finger. He lifted his finger to my mouth and, after a moment’s attempt at evasion by me, forced me to lick his finger clean.

“Oh, Godddd!” Bev cried behind me. She was getting the full force of his erection now, and it was, I speculated, stretching her to new heights she’d never reached before. To save Jack or herself a scalding, she picked up the cups of cocoa and flung them against the priceless walls of the room. The cups, splashing their contents on the wall, shattered and fell to the floor. I hoped we all wouldn’t be made to pay for that indiscretion.