Bev rode Jack with as much abandon as she could muster, given her tightness and his length. At last he spurted within her. She collapsed onto the tray. Her boobs mingled in the syrupy pancakes with their fresh strawberry topping. Screaming, I let Jack, who had a tongue as large as some men’s penises, fuck me up my cunt until I’d crested into several orgasms and could take no more. Finally I drew myself off him, my pussy wet and my mouth smeared with chocolate syrup that had begun the night in my ass.

“Come and clean me, bitch!” Bev ordered. I crawled to her and she knelt up again, letting Jack rest a bit within her cunny before enlarging again. I knelt before her and, as Jack continued to find my butthole a fun place for his finger, I lapped up the syrup on the front of her bodice. When I reached her panties I could not stop. I opened them and played within with my tongue. I licked and licked and lapped and licked until I scooped all the whipped cream out with my tongue, the very cream I’d so naughtily squirted there 20 minutes before, relishing my defilement of her, never suspecting I’d be given the job of cleaning her out. With his cock still encased in her cunt, there was no chance of the whipped cream escaping through Bev’s crotchless panties. But when I’d licked it all out I stuck my tongue down deep within her panties and licked around his shaft. It was full again, bulging with his need. Bev began to rock on him and Jack switched to masturbating my cunt with his hand. The three of us went at it again, Bev still possessively keeping hold of Jack’s rod, me like a little kitty-cat in her master’s bed, getting my pussy fondled as my two masters made love.

“Well, Jack, are you empty yet?” Bev asked him when at last we’d slowed down enough for a rest. Bev had just dismounted from him and he looked up at both of us with gleaming eyes.

“I doubt it,” Jack replied. And I knew what he meant. What young stud would stop after just two spurts?

“As soon as you’re hard again we’ll put Fleury atop you,” Bev told him. “She needs some of your sperm too.”

“Okay,” Jack answered, a big dumb okay from a big guy. I didn’t know him well enough yet to know whether he was smart or dumb.

“It’s up to us to make him hard again, Fleury. Think you’re up to it?” Bev asked me.

“Yes, ma’am,” I answered her. And I gave her a crisp salute, kneeling there on the bed, with chocolate up my ass and my cunny wet with my pleasure and my bosoms and bottom exposed despite my bearhug-tight corselette. For her part, Bev was in a much-licked bustier, her titties showing their ruby tips and her cunny dripping out Jack’s sperm. We both had ribbons in our hair, to keep it pinned up, and I knew we looked absolutely sexy dressed yet undressed like this. I eyes Jack’s balls and saw them drawing upward again already, promising yet more fulfillment.

“Turn around and show me your ass,” Bev told me, picking up her crop from where it lay half-hidden amidst the bedcovers. “I want to pay you back for all the sperm you’re going to steal from my boyfriend.”

“I’m-I’m really not into that,” I said, my voice suddenly wavering, my tits wobbling nudely on my chest, sticking out from the holes in my corselette.

“She must be whipped later tonight, by Branson,” Jack told Bev. “Her bottom is reserved for him.”

“Oh! Branson! He’s such a brute!” Bev gasped. “Let me see your poor bottom! How awful it will tomorrow, after your visit to him! I’ll kiss it for you right now, to help it get better before he even begins. You’ll need it, belive me!”

I turned around, not knowing what else to do. Putting down the crop (which gave me a great sigh of relief), Bev came up behind me and began kissing my ass very diligently. She did not bite it as she’d bitten my nipples. She kissed it very tenderly, patting it with her hands consolingly, and finally laving her tongue up and down my ass crack, for I’d been told that Branson would not even let me keep that part of myself private from him and his whip. With kissing lips she sucked all the chocolate syrup out of my ass. I was glad Hershey’s made such good syrup!

Constricted within the corselette, my bottom felt huge. Her tongue speared it as one might spear a ripe peach. I felt utterly female, fucked up my ass by her pretty tongue while Jack, his own member now starting to rise, prepared me for it by diddling my clit with his fingers.

Soon I was ready. Jack stood tall, and he’d encouraged me close to the brink of orgasm yet again. I was helped down to his waist by Bev. She assisted me in straddling him, and depressed his cock a little at the pee hole so I could get my smaller, child’s frame, atop him. Then she got behind me and bore down on my shoulders. Gazing downward, I watched with gaping eyes as Jack’s organ drilled up into my cunny. He pushed the tray of food off his belly as he realized what a job (and a pleasure, no doubt!) it would be to ram himself up my tight cunt.

I gasped as his fullness went deeper and deeper.

“No,” I begged, but Bev kept her hands pressed to my shoulders and there was no stopping Jack, especially when he gave his hips an upward thrust.

Suddenly the door opened. I turned, my mouth wide, my eyes almost popping out of my head, and saw to my disbelief that Andre and Louis were standing there, with Rose inbetween them. Slyly she unzipped their flies even as our eyes met. Digging within them, she drew forth their flaming rods, all pinkly fleshed and ripe with pre-cum.

“Yes, Louis, watch as another fucks your love. See how big his tool is. Bigger than yours, even. Are you jealous?” Rose asked.

Louis nodded.

“She will be punished for it by Branson, I can assure you,” Rose replied. Polly peeked over Rose’s shoulder.

“Poooolleee!” I cried as, finding deep purchase within me, Jack began jabbing up and down with his organ, jack-hammer like, befitting his name, with my poor little cunt required to receive every heart-rending stroke.

“Good, good,” Bev told me, and stayed right behind me, not running to service Louis, which I was most grateful for. She helped me bounce up and down on her boyfriend and whispered words of encouragement in my ear. If she was partly a lesbian, I was now glad for it. Any other woman would have abandoned me for Louis, but she ignored him, preferring his eyes instead, with her hands on me. She reached around and grabbed my breasts after awhile, milking them heartily with her hands, still whispering dirty words to me, as I screamed and cried and yowled atop Jack’s ever more viciously fucking prick.

Somewhere in our fuck-fest I collapsed in a dizziness of delight over Jack’s chest. Bev went over with me, squeezing my tits like they were Play-Doh and bucking her hips against me, wishing, no doubt, she had something fake on to shove up my nether hole. All the while Polly watched, big-eyed and curious. I heard Rose slap her and warn her not to frig herself. Louis and Andre, I saw through bleared eyes, stood and massaged their big organs, quite freely, with Rose encouraging them to spill their seed on her carpet, which I knew they didn’t want to do. No man does. Even as he rubs himself he hopes never to cum, yet is so overwhelmed by his pleasure that he can’t stop, yet fears to go on. At least, in the case of Louis and Andre, they were jerking off to a live girl, namely me, not some bathroom magazine or pervert’s story on the Net!

I wept with pleasure as I was filled and squeezed and even banged on my bottom. Bev must have wished she were a man, the way she kept humping my ass with her bereft pussy, having nothing to ‘do’ me with, and me having nothing but buttflesh to reward her with. Somewhere very deep within me Jack erupted in a spasm of cum. I felt my womb flood with him and, at that moment, honestly wished I’d get pregnant with his seed and stay that way for the rest of my life, forever big-tummied, always bearing more and more and more young, until I was as old and loose and fat as Maria the maid.

“Oooh, he DID her,” Polly announced when Jack and I finally separated.

“Yes, dear, but I TOLD you not to play with your pussy,” Rose told the girl. She stood there bare-legged, wearing just her manacles, rubbing her hand quite naturally and artlessly over her cunt. Her child’s thighs were parted in a wide stance, and her tummy heaved in and out as she watched with fascination our bedroom play. I wanted to run up to her and put her angel-like form in a crib and protect her from all she was seeing. And yet, she looked so sweet, so innocent, just standing there masturbating herself, that I finally decided I liked seeing her that way better, with her new young tits wobbling on her chest, and her eyes like saucers. Rose had to smack her bottom to get her to take away her hand but, the minute Rose turned back to Louis and Andre, Polly was at it again, completely ignoring Rose’s injunction, as if she’d never been told it.

“Can I play too?” Polly asked us, still fondling herself.

“Well,” I grinned, looking at Bev. “I don’t know that there’s much left in this young stallion, big as he is.” Jack heaved a heavy sigh, still flat on his back, but certainly less full in his testicles than he’d been an hour ago. Our dinner tray, its food completely uneaten, had fallen off our bed and lay angled up against it.

“I’m afraid it’s time for bed,” Rose said. “Bathtime, then bedtime, for both of you.” Behind me I realized the sun was beginning to set. It would be time for Branson soon. Could I bear it? I knew not what to do. Louis desisted his rubbing, without cuming, and forced his rod brutally back into his pants. He could not get his zipper up, but I doubted anyone in the castle would care. He could have left his dick sticking out, probably, but I imagined he did not want to show it to other men. At least not more than was required. Men are funny. In a locker room, or a bedroom, they strut about showing their stuff, but put them out in a hallway, or some such, and up that zipper goes, depriving us girls of our favorite sight!

“I’ll fill the tub,” Bev offered, clambering off the bed. Her gait was awkward as she went to the bathroom. I quickly followed. I had to GO, and was determined that nothing would stop me from reaching the potty. I scooted through the door behind her and plumped my bottom right down on the toilet seat, not asking anyone’s permission.

“Oh, you saved it up ‘til we were done,” Bev smiled, turning on our bathwater.

“Not by choice,” I replied. “I just got distracted so’s that I didn’t notice.”

“And to think when I was your age I was still sitting alone in my room collecting Beatles photos,” Bev sighed. “And Lennon was dead already, of course, with no hope of the band reuniting. Oh well, show’s you what the music of the 80’s was like.” Her bosoms bobbled on her chest as she stooped down to check the water temperature. Then she made a trip to the towel closet to fetch some bath soap and bubble bath.

“It was terrible music, or so I’ve heard,” I commented to Bev, still peeing out my stream of golden urine. “I was too young to know.”

“You didn’t miss anything,” Bev replied. “Cobain had to shoot himself to get music in really high gear. Too bad. Eleven million dollars, any girl he wanted, and he wasn’t happy. He was a pipsqueak, though, physically. His penis won’t be missed, I imagine, just his scruffy good looks, his insanity, and his voice.”

“I like Bush,” I told her.

“No you don’t, you’re just making a joke ‘cause of the name,” Bev replied.

“Well, the Butthole Surfers then,” I smiled at her. “Or is it Penis? I mean, Primus?”

“How about Porno...for Pyros?” Bev asked. She advanced across the floor toward me.

“Belly!” I replied, slapping my own, wondering if Jack would indeed be found to have filled it up. I wasn’t sure I’d taken any pills lately.

“HOle!” Bev screamed, and she bent low and stuck her finger in mine. It was still all stretchy, from Jack’s massive erection being pumped in and out of it. I retaliated, putting my own finger up hers.

“Girls, there’s really plenty of cock to go around here,” Rose intoned, and we both looked up, shocked, to see her standing in the doorway, looking at us.

“Sorry,” I breathed.

“Me too,” Bev answered.

“Oh, I do NOT want to be whipped, and I especially don’t want to have to take a baaaath!” Polly, making a handful of herself, bleated and whined as Louis and Andre escorted her into the bathroom. Jack followed, a bit sheepishly, I think, being all naked with the other two men dressed up in suits. He ambled past them, his buttcheeks naked and exposed, his cock dangling down and his balls swaying quite loosely and emptily. I got up from the toilet, flushed it, and he took my place, peeing into it without noticing to raise the seat, as men so often do.

“Jack! Please put up the seat!” Rose corrected him. She advanced to him and slapped his ass, which only made his pee stream miss entirely, and decorate the wallpaper.

“I think I’ve got cunt juice all in my prick hair,” Jack commented, ignoring Rose’s admonition entirely. Men are sometimes within their own world, and a female slap, even one on their ass that wangles their dick around, only gives them the pleasure they think they deserve whenever they want it.

“Jack! Stop peeing and lift the seat!” Rose admonished. She hit him again. For an answer, Jack turned around and began peeing on Rose.

“Jack! How dare-” Rose exclaimed. But as his pee hit her, Jack organ elongated to its full size and bloated up with its full girth suddenly restored. Looking at it, Rose felt herself dazzled. Before he’d even stopped peeing, Rose bent and put her mouth to his cock. She did not cover his peehole with her mouth, but bit lightly into the shaft of his cock as he, for his part, kept on wetting her down. As soon as he was done Rose slurped at his slit and kissed him. Bev, watching, laughed, for Rose was not one to go without, and for her to submit herself to Bev’s boyfriend in such a whore-ish way was truly unbelievable. But then, so was Jack. (Though, thinking about it, Louis and Andre were not far behind him, Louis especially. But he was the biggest, like Tarzan, lord of the jungle, reining over all the other apes.)

Rose knelt in her peestained gown before Jack and begged him to sperm her face. They had not met before, I guessed, at least not in this intimate way. Jack, for his part, urged his loins into his face and made a frank effort to cum. He didn’t mind. He was on his fourth go-round and was happy to spurt on command now. Rose clasped his rod and ran her hands up and down it like a madwoman. She clung to his balls and made milking motions, urging him to spew out his spunk. Jack, though erect, was in no hurry. He’d been satiated on me and Bev, and was happy to let his cum come when it came. Rose seemed to value this, somehow, and tried every second to submit herself ever more ignominiously to him. It was as if she relished this sudden break from her regal, polished self, being now just a cheap slut on the bathroom floor, in a peestained gown.

Louis, moved to expose himself again, walked up behind Rose and prepared to jettison his load right in her lovely hair. Andre did the same.

“No!” Bev and I cried, but it was too late. They were highly excited, I could tell, by the stiffness of their erections, and even Polly, though fearing the night ahead, could not help but run up to Rose and begin frigging herself again, as if she had a penis just like the men did, except, of course, she didn’t.

“Aghghg!” Andre shouted suddenly, and his spunk lavished itself upon Rose’s hair. He served as an obscene inspiration for Louis, who jettisoned his load next, with as troubled a shout as Andre had just offered. Simultaneously, though longer in cuming, but climaxing just in time, Jack spurted into Rose’s face. And little Polly, not wishing to be left out, despite being a girl, arched her hips forward, spread her legs, got halfway over Rose’s head, and peed on it. In amazement I watched her little stream as it burst out of her and she tinkled right on our loving mistress, mingling her pee with the heady-smelling sperm of Andre, Louis, and Jack.

When all were finished, Bev turned and found the tub almost full to overflowing. She turned off the water, mooning us in the process with her glorious bottom. Then we got out of our things, all of us, me and Polly keeping on only our collars and manacles, and we all went splashing into the tub. When we were all ensconced within it, I heard a clinking bucket. The maid appeared, Maria, big in girth but otherwise silent. She put the bucket under the sink, filled it, and then put it down on the floor and put a mop into it. As we sat, luxuriating in the bubbles of the bath and savoring our spent loins, she mopped up the floor.

In the intoxicatingly hot water, which made me, I confess, a little sleepy, after all my exertions, the men’s pricks arose again. Polly spotted the first one. Andre was lying back, his head against a folded, partly wet towel. Rose had positioned herself adroitly between Andre and Louis, and I think was fondling their balls encouragingly under the water. Polly had consoled herself to her bath by sailing the rubber ducky around the tub. As she passed it by Andre, her titties scooping up foam as she glided amongst the bubbles layering the water’s surface, Andre’s penis suddenly stuck up like a periscope.

“Oooh, don’t bump my ducky,” Polly reproved her lover, and seemed quite serious, saying it, as if she now preferred her childhood toy to his massive erection. Andre was the youngest male. I guess that’s why he recovered the quickest. Just the sight of little Polly being herself, so innocent and pure, yet so ‘well-rounded,’ as one might say, excited his loins anew. Louis followed shortly, then Jack. I guess we had a trio of rather stalwart men. I figured Rose picked them precisely because they could serve so many cunts so well. No nerdyboys were allowed at the castle, I don’t think. You had to be able to get up and stay up, and cum repeatedly when asked to. Boys who came to soon or men who couldn’t find the inspiration were kept away. Although, no doubt, at times Rose trained even these males, if they could find the money to pay her. But guys like Andre and Louis and Jack were what she preferred. She liked to play with her guests; test them, provoke them, make them wait and then make them cum more times than they thought possible.

Andre suggested that we have an orgy in the tub. Rose placed a fingertip atop his penis, and Louis’s, rubbing their slits and feeling the first oozings of newly created pre-cum bubble up from them.

“Not until after the girls have been whipped,” Rose said quietly. Andre’s cock quivered as he contemplated the fate of his little lover. Polly pretended not to hear. Louis seemed unaffected. I shrank down in the bubbles, instinctively, and felt back behind myself. Was I really to be whipped? Rose kept teasing Polly and I with the thought of it, so much so I no longer knew whether it was just to keep us under her thumb or whether she truly intended it.

“Ah, I have been trained in the art of the whip,” Bev sighed. To my surprise she lifted the riding crop I’d last seen in the bedroom from beneath the water. Foam dripped from it as she held it aloft and twirled it. Had Maria slipped it to her somehow, while I was watching Polly sail her duck? Polly and I both felt our eyes riveted by the implement. We knew that its most likely target was us. Bev took the crop and kissed its looped tip. Leather, made to bite and dig into the buttocks, or whisk across it, depending on the wielder’s skill and spite. Bev extended her tongue and ran the leather stick across it. The crop was longer than most, giving it an extra whippy spring. “I began as a submissive, of course, a ‘bottom,’” Bev laughed, using the term of the S&M trade. “It began one night in a nightclub. I was dancing with this guy, a little bored. He knew the owner. There was a spare room. My boyfriend, a different guy from Jack at the time” (she smiled at her new love) “invited a woman to hold me. The three of us, plus the owner, went into the room and the next thing I knew my boyfriend and the woman volunteer were bending me over the pool table. I didn’t know what to think. Beyond the door, everyone else was still dancing, the music was still playing, drinks were still being served. The woman, going round in front of me and holding down my wrists against the surface of the table, told me to scream freely. No one would hear, with the music blasting away out on the dance floor. Or if they did, just a little, they would think it was something mixed in with the endlessly segued songs.

“Then my boyfriend whipped me, using his belt. I’d done nothing wrong. He was just bored, that’s all, and I was too, until I’d realized what I’d gotten myself into! The owner snapped pictures of my gasping face for my boyfriend to keep as souvenirs. I shouted for him not to, but he ignored me. The woman bent forward over the table and kissed me and told me not to worry. When it was over she helped me replace my dress and straighten it. Then we went back out onto the dance floor, and my bottom couldn’t keep still! Everyone must have thought I’d taken lessons, in that back room. In fact I’d learnt my lesson.”

And it was, ultimately, according to Bev, that a sound thrashing could be fun. I doubted that. Louis told of the differences he’d discovered between using a paddle with a hole in it and one without.

“It swings faster if you drill a hole in it, but the splat from a completely solid paddle is somehow more satisfying,” Louis commented, and Bev agreed.

“Don’t forget a good bedroom slipper,” Jack offered. “I find that’s best sometimes.” Bev exchanged a knowing glance with him. “Sometimes she’ll come to bed in the sexiest nightie after I’ve been slaving away all day at work. I mean, how can I service her if she’s that much hotter than I am? I do a lot of outdoor work. It keeps me fit but it can be backbreaking sometimes. So I give her a good whacking with a bedroom slipper, just to burn off some of her energy. I lay her across my belly and pull her panties down so her bottom is unprotected. Then, while I’m just relaxing, lying back and watching the Tonight Show, I give her repeated whacks on her ass. Whenever I feel like it, you know? If Leno tells a stupid joke, WHACK! If a dumb commercial comes on, WHACK! And I don’t spare her none, no. I want her bawling her head off by the end of the broadcast. Then, when she’s weeping and feeling sorry for herself, I mount her and make slow love to her, at my own pace, with her underneath me quivering and crying.

The conversation continued like this, each participant in the tub, while enjoying the silky smooth water, telling of a favorite experience with the whip. I didn’t really have any, and Polly had none at all. I offered my Abandon Gardens story, then wished I hadn’t, because Rose seemed more determined than ever to outdo what had been done to me there. Polly, sometimes sailing her ducky, sometimes listening raptly, said nothing at all. Except, at the very end, she admitted she’d been paddled once at school for not doing her homework.

“Three swats,” she said. “My teacher told us he’d spank us if we didn’t bring our homework. So, the next day, guess who forgot hers? Me. So he took me outside and made me bend over and he paddled me with all the other kids listening. He got in trouble, though. I think they took him to jail or something. Mommie said he shouldn’t have done that. So when I told her she called the school and he got in lots of trouble. At least I hope he did.” Polly ended her story and we all sat looking at her. She was so darling, with a little frosting of bubblebath on the tip of her nose, unnoticed by her, making her look even younger than she usually did. I was but a year older, but I felt much older. I’d had adventures. While I tried to be my most mature, Polly seemed to relish playing a spoilt baby. I could never entirely figure out whether she did it deliberately, or by accident.

We were quite a bunch, lying there in the tub, on our backs, two grown women and two girls, with Maria mopping up and then changing the sheets in the bedroom next door. Rose with her dark hair, loosed in the tub so she could wash the men’s sperm from it. Andre picked up a nearby bottle of shampoo and dunked Rose under the water as we talked. Several times, to get her hair wet. Then he squirted the shampoo on her and began slicking it through her hair with his hands. He seemed to enjoy it. Louis plucked at Rose’s nipples and commented on the beauty of her glistening white breasts. They bobbed like marshmallows on the water, half-submerged. Rose shut her eyes and let the two men admire and play with her. Louis found her clit and made her gasp with little gasps of pleasure as Andre played bathtub beautician with her hair. Bev took to necking with Jack, leaving me to Polly. I asked her if I could sail her duck and she let me, just a little, all the while telling me I was not doing it right.

“Ducky doesn’t go in reverse!” Polly scolded me, watching intently.

“Ducky is made of rubber. He can go any way I want him to,” I answered.

“Ooooh! I don’t like my ducky going backwards!” Polly said.

“It’s not yours. It belongs to Rose,” I reminded her. And so on. Tit for tat, until Polly grabbed her duck back from me.

Skipping sex, despite the men’s renewed longing for it, we got out of the tub and Maria handed us towels. She watched as we dried each other. The men were tall and well-haired, their cocks up and boldly displayed. Polly seemed fascinated by the difference between drying her own little cunny and a man’s loins, he being huge and erect where she had nothing but a little slit. We took our time, exciting each other by passing the towels repeatedly over the sexiest areas, drying each other’s loins until they were re-wetted by their own fluids. I thought then we’d return to the bed for sure. After all, it had fresh sheets now. Why not? I was feeling frisky.

“Men, I’m going to ask you to be on your best behavior,” Rose told Louis and Andre. Bev and Jack were holding hands, standing close by the bed. “I see no reason why a girl can’t have some fun before she’s whipped. I’m going to take Polly and Fleury dancing. Just to give them a little air.”

With that Rose took Polly and I each by the hand. With newly excited cunnies and stiff nipples we stepped from the bedroom, naked as jaybirds. Louis and Andre and Jack and Bev, with Maria in attendance, were left behind. I looked back, as did Polly. Bev had bright eyes. Her hands had Jack and Andre by their cocks, with Louis extending his toward her as well.

“I thought they weren’t supposed to fuck anymore?” Polly asked in an irked tone of voice.

“Well, honey, they’re not supposed to, and I told them to be good,” Rose replied quietly.

“Well, they look like they’re GOING TO to me,” Polly exclaimed.

“Let’s not worry about them right now,” Rose said. “I’ll ask Bev to give me a full report on their behavior later.”

“Will you spank them if they’re bad?” Polly inquired.

“Certainly! I told them to be good, didn’t I?” Rose said.

“Ooooh, goody!” Polly exclaimed. Her legs danced as we walked, coltish, slim and childish, long but not fully fatted yet. I was conscious of my own legs. They were skinny like hers, but not as much. My bottom was fuller too. Mine had a sense of womanhood about it, while hers still had those rubbery cheeks that veer a little toward the slim side. Hers promised, mine delivered, one might say. Rose’s bottom swayed between us, round and soft and gracious, the sort one sees on Georgia peaches in the springtime, walking up church steps with their children, or dancing with their husbands at evening balls. Her pubic mound was fully furred, while mine and Polly’s were fleecy and light. She projected an aura of the well-mounted woman, unafraid of men, knowledgeable, a good wife. I was more the saucy high school girl, unsure, willing yet unwilling. Polly seemed ever more relentlessly wedded to childhood. I think she used it as a security blanket. She did not have to try to cope with the world if she could pass herself off as a baby. I at least wanted to try. I wished to look men in the eye with the confidence Rose had. We strolled down the hall, calm in our nudity, me copying Rose while Polly skipped alongside. We met no one. I heard sounds behind bedroom doors that we passed. A moan, the sound of a whip? Wood breaking? They must be starting early, Rose’s guests. I did not ask about the sounds. Polly babbled about how Louis and Andre needed to be given all sorts of implements on their bottoms, finally concluding that a bullwhip would be best. Rose humored her. The girl was sealing her own fate, not theirs.

We met Joanne and Sylvia, coming up the stairs. They were wet. They had a boy with them, from the workmen’s huts. They had found him, they said, while they played outside in the rain. Rose scolded them for getting their dresses wet. She ordered the boy back to his hut.

“Take Polly to her room,” Rose said. “We’re going dancing at the cabana. You can take a quick shower in her room, then meet me downstairs.”

Polly waved goodbye to me and went off with Joanne and Sylvia. The girls did not mind losing their boyfriend. They were here to serve, and be trained. They expected Rose to correct them. When they left the castle they could do whatever they pleased. They had come here for something different in this age of the liberated woman. They had come to find fulfillment in the older ways, of servitude and obedience. Happily Polly told them of all she expected to happen to Andre and Louis.

“And Rose will whip them, with a big, big bullwhip that will make their balls bounce up and down!” Polly crowed. Her punishments for the men were getting more elaborate by the minute. Joanne and Sylvia exchanged glances. They knew Polly was sewing her own doom more than that of anyone else, though Polly herself was oblivious. She pranced along between them, describing in spooky terms all the things that must certainly happen to the men if they disobeyed Rose.

Rose took me to my bedroom. Again I looked at the canopied four-poster where she’d promised me I would taste the whip. A corporal punishment, with no mercy, unlike any I’d ever had before. The sheets lay waiting, fresh and crisp, to receive me.

“Oh, do it now, get it over with!” I said suddenly, turning to her.

“Not yet, dear,” Rose replied. I sank to my knees and found myself pressing my nose pleadingly into her delta. It was soft, silky, dark as the hair on her head. She consoled my anxiety by placing a hand on the back of my head. I stuck out my tongue, felt between her legs for her clit.

“Ah! Please!” Rose cried. I’d found her spot. I tongued it with babyish little licks, like Polly might. She said ‘please’ again and I knew not whether she wished me to continue or stop.

I clasped her womanly thighs and parted them wider. I urged my titties between her legs. She let her knees buckle a little, clearly enjoying my efforts. But we were going dancing, in public! We must not play like this, making ourselves all wet.

“Enough!” Rose said. Roughly she pulled me up my my hair. She held my blonde locks in her hands a moment, staring at me, her eyes and her cheeks hot. At last she let go. “I want you to show off your flawless bottom once more before it’s whipped,” Rose said to me.

“Will it still be flawless tomorrow?” I gulped. I felt butterflies lift off anew in my tummy. This was getting serious.

“Not for a few days,” Rose replied. “Then it should be fine again. Unless Louis wants a replay.”

“I don’t want a play, let alone...”

“I know,” she said, putting a finger to my lips. “Get dressed. There are bikinis in the drawer. Just wear a bikini. Nothing else.” I walked to the dresser drawer in my room and opened it. There, arrayed before me, were all sorts of colorful bikinis just my size. Had someone gone out and bought them for me?

“They’re beautiful,” I sighed. They were skimpy too. I picked one that had a nice full bottom to it. Rose might want me showing off my ass in public, but I didn’t. Louis’ eyes were all I needed. I tried not to think of what he might be doing right at this moment.

Rose walked over to me. She put a hand on my back and did not stop me from slipping on the bikini with the modest panties. She helped me tie them. To my chagrin I found the panties didn’t cover all of my bottom crack. I dared not ask to exchange them. I was lucky Rose hadn’t insisted on a thong. She rummaged through the suits and I realized there were bigger ones intermixed with what I thought were all just for me. She found one her size and I helped her into it.

“Armed for battle!” Rose said to me when we’d both dressed. We looked like two girls in an underwear store, wearing just little bikinis, mine cotton, hers leather, but they were decorated for swimming. Mine had pretty dolphins with bulb noses swimming across it. Hers were imprinted with eels. The fabric of both our suits was impossibly thin. My nipples stuck up their nubs despite my bra cups. Her mound was not quite covered. It bulged where it was covered, letting the eye see clearly that she had a nice nest. I wondered how Polly would look. She took my arm and we marched with a sense of gay abandon back into the hall and down the staircase at the front of the house. I wondered if she’d made a little wet spot in her panties from my licking.

Polly greeted us outside in a plastic swimsuit. She was investigating a cricket, holding it in her hands and trying to figure out what made it chirp. She showed it to us. Joanne and Sylvia loitered beside her, mildly intrigued by the cricket. Joanne wore a bikini of felt, Sylvia’s was woolen, a matrix of interlaced little bits of yarn. She was lucky it was dark out. I think in the daylight one might have been able to see thru the yarn to her pubis. Polly, I thought, was lucky too. Bright sunlight would have quickly heated up her fashionable little suit. She’d have found it burning her like a vinyl car seat. Joanne, I suspected, wouldn’t make more than two laps in a pool in her suit. It looked like water would fray it and make it fall apart. But a little sweat from dancing wouldn’t be too bad for it and that, I guessed, is as much water as we’d see tonight. We were dressed for swimming but we’d just be nightclubbing in the city, along the shore.

Rose complimented Polly for catching the cricket. Polly wanted to bring it with her in the limo but Rose told her to let it go. She did, calling goodbye to it as it flitted away into the night.

Author: Andrew Roller

Copyright Andrew Roller