Seeing that Polly was quite ready for her ride now, Rose began the machine. The saddle began bouncing her up and down, just like before, but now each pounding that her bottom suffered upon it rammed the rising tube deeper into her ass. I heard Rose click off the switch for the penis finally, leaving Polly to bounce on its full length, utterly penetrated now, despite her endlessly compressing cheeks. In fact each bounce of the stool caused her cheeks to briefly release themselves, making her look silly as her cheeks sprang open and closed, showing her asscrack to us.

"GEEE-YAAAAA" Polly hollered as the mechanical bull sprang up and down with unrelenting force. Her boobs juddered like cream puffs as she took her unwanted Ôride' upon it. "Let-me-offff!" Polly pleaded, but Rose was not about to allow that. We watched, fascinated, as Polly found herself a penetrated cowgirl, getting fucked by the fake cock up her ass with every bounding leap of the stool. I migrated to Brad and stroked his cock. We shared glances. I looked down at his tool and wished there was some way I could mount the stool and simultaneously have his cock inside me. He smiled, cupped my bottom, eased his finger between my cheeks. I drew them in a little but allowed him to find my hole at last. He explored its rubbery rim with an inquiring digit. Did he want to stick this big pecker of his up my heinie? I shuddered. I didn't really want that. The Ôold-fashioned way' would be fine with me.

Cheyenne entertained Darwin's prick as well as Dave's. He was the man with the cut-off t-shirt. He'd since taken it off. It lay discarded somewhere on the dance floor, I suspected. Along with our panties and bras. I was feeling deliciously free tonight. I wanted Brad inside me, and told him so.

"Cheyenne, I want you on the horse next," Rose told her.

Cheyenne looked up from her twin cocks and there was a reluctant look on her face. She brushed back her hair. The bull slowed its bucking and Polly subsided on it, quivering still from her journey.

"Only if you take me back to your castle with you," Cheyenne told Rose.

Rose looked her over, considering. It was, I think, the first time Rose had really taken note of the girl. She was in fact very beautiful, with a snub nose and wide eyes and long brown tresses that got caught on her nipples whenever she turned her head. Her bosoms sported stiff tips, excited and ready for sex. She palmed her ass, almost sensing Rose's next sentence.

"Only if you agree to be a love slave there," Rose replied.

"Oh!" Cheyenne gasped. It was as if she'd been pierced with her deepest, most haunting fantasy. "Would you whip me?" Her fingers pressed into her soft white bottom cheeks, gripping them, parting the cheeks, so that I could at last see her hole as she anxiously contemplated her choices. Brad had made me bend over and take his tool in his mouth, so that I found myself with an unexpectedly candid view of her nether cheeks, and stared wonderingly at them, waiting to hear if she'd let Rose enslave her.

"Turn around. Let me see your bottom," Rose told Cheyenne. Bashfully she complied. But she let go of her cheeks first, and when she offered Rose a view of her bottom it was with an ass huddling in on itself.

"Hmmm, nice and round," Rose said, surveying Cheyenne's derriere. "You have a gorgeous bottom, honey," Rose admitted at last. "It would be unthinkable not to give it a good thrashing. Probably at a party, letting everyone participate. How lovely you'd look receiving it, too! Have you never been punished on your bottom before?"

"No...never," Cheyenne said, and spun back around so that Rose could see her no more.

"Get on the horse, dear," Rose said simply. She nodded to Darwin and Dave. They led Cheyenne to the bronco, her feet tripping over themselves a little, her hand hovering by her throat as she realized she'd just let herself in for a whole new life. I think she was a little high on Ecstasy or something, but it made no difference to Rose. She hadn't drugged the girl. If she awoke in the morning and protested in finding herself at the castle, all the better. Recalcitrant girls were especially fun for Rose. And, I suspected, for helpers like Joanne and Sylvia too. I wondered where they were now. Probably in a room close by, getting theirs. I hoped they didn't need any condoms. We had Rose's purse.

Brad was obviously ready. I walked to Rose's purse and rummaged inside for a condom for him. After all, I didn't know his last name. I might not see him after tonight. Best not to take any chances, though I had, obviously, taken a few before. But I was older now. I knew better. He was just some dude that Rose had briefly inspected. For VD, I guessed now, as much as for anything else. He'd been oozing pre-cum when we met, from the stain I remembered seeing on the front of his Speedos. I'd been too excited by the music, the lights, to really understand what Rose had been doing. But now I knew. I chose a pre-lubricated condom from her purse, one colored red, and returned to Brad.

"You don't mind, do you?" I asked, tearing open the packet. My breasts jiggled on my chest.

"Go ahead," Brad agreed. As Dave and Darwin helped Polly get loose from her perch I slid the condom on Brad. He almost came as I handled him, he was so eager for me.

"Wait a minute, kids. We're going to do something together," Rose told us. I smiled. Rose was always up to something. To keep Brad tempted I ran my fingers along his sheathed cock once I had him all suited up. He passed his hand between my legs and teased my spot to distraction.

Polly wobbled over to Rose. She sank down to the woman's feet and placed the cheek of her face upon her toes. She looked like a little baby, curling up at Rose's feet. Her bottom pointed toward us and I saw it looked well poked. There was a brown smear around her hole and the insidious thing had, apparently, jetted something up into her in the last moments of her ride. Rose, obviously, had found a switch for sperming girls on the stool. Cheyenne would be next.

Dave and Darwin mounted her up. I watched as her legs parted wide to accommodate the seat between them. She settled into it, adjusted herself, reached back and felt her bottom. In a moment the prick that had lodged itself in Polly would do her, and she knew it. In its housing beneath the stool, I guessed, it lay waiting in disinfectant. Then, poking up through the seat again, it would be greased as it rose through the tube, emerging at last cock-sure and ready to fuck again.

Rose took off Polly's cowboy hat. The girl did not protest. She was exhausted from her ride. Especially the terror of it, being fucked in the ass for the first time in her life. Now she lay puppy-like at Rose's feet.

Rose passed the cowboy hat to cheyenne. Bravely the girl took it, put it on, even slid the strap under her chin so it wouldn't fly off.

"Fleury, Polly, let's each kneel and take a man up our bottom at the same time Cheyenne gets fucked on the stool," Rose suggested. There was a wicked gleam in her eye and I liked it.

"Alright," I agreed. She passed me a fresh towel for comfort and I spread it out on the floor. There was no furniture in the room. Just the bronco, which I'd thought useless at first, the fireplace, and plenty of towels. And a wet bar, which none of us had yet bothered to use.

I knelt and offered Brad my bottom. Just like that. As a female might do in the jungle. Rose spread out a towel for herself and knelt with the control box in her hands. Polly declared that she would not participate. She remained fetal-like, showing us her bottom but insisting it not be touched.

"Suit yourself," Rose replied. Dave had found Rose first so he got dibs on her rear. Darwin settled for Rose's mouth, and seemed to prefer her accessibility to Polly's stubbornness. Some men like a challenge, others are just looking for a wet hole, I guess. It was not a bad choice. Rose drew him into her mouth, commenting over his prick that he must not let himself interfere with her use of the control box for the bronco. Dave, meanwhile, having gotten a condom and lubricant from her purse, prepared to mount her ass.

I felt Brad's cock bump up against my hole. He was kneeling behind me now, as Dave lowered himself to the floor to do Rose. Darwin was already enjoying Rose's succulent mouth. She was an expert at Ôblowing' men and she used him with her lips even as her hands remained on the control box.

"I expect she's very good," I called out to Darwin, feeling Brad at my rear. "Let her control you and you'll last a nice long time, I'll bet."

"I hope so! This is heaven!" Darwin answered me. I liked him. He was just a big blonde, dumb dude. He had a grin on his face as wide as the Cheshire Cat's and I hoped someday I could show as much skill as Rose did. She blew him gently, licking his cock and then puffing on it, stopping a moment, then inhaling him deeply, right back against her throat. Polly blubbered from her place on the floor, little snivelling sounds that I expected were invitations to Darwin to take her instead. But Darwin was supremely happy with his manhood in Rose's mouth and Polly, poor soul, would lose this battle to her own stubbornness. For once nobody would command her to obey, and she'd find she didn't like that, after all.

Rose started the bronco. At once Cheyenne began bouncing, lightly, while at the same time she felt the nozzled penis enquiring in her ass. Unlike Polly, she reached back and opened her bottomcheeks to receive it more easily. There was no use fighting against something you couldn't control. I wondered if I'd have that much courage if I was put on the horse.

Brad's cockhead dug into my bottom. I took a deep breath and tried to relax. I knew this would hurt some, but I'd taken Andre just the night before and survived. Now it was Brad's turn. I felt used, like a whore, but he didn't seem to mind, and he drove into me so hard I had to ball my hand into a fist and bite it.

"Good, good, don't spare her. She needs to learn," Rose told Brad. She held Darwin's cock aloft, twixt her fingers, as she spoke. Like a cigar. I wished she hadn't encouraged Brad for he took hold of my hips and rammed me back upon his tool, going still deeper. I shouted. It felt like some huge cork was being stoppered up my ass. Briefly I wondered if I'd somehow get stuck on him.

Rose yelped as Dave took her with more vigor than she'd expected. Even as Brad reamed me, and the horse did Cheyenne, bouncing her more jubilantly, making her cry out with shock, Rose got hers too. We were three females, submitting to love, and finding it more gruelling than ever we'd hoped. The men, mechanical or real, were lusty and hard and not to be taken lightly. I wished Brad would shoot. I tightened my cheeks on him but he overcame me, urging me, kissing me now, leaning close and cupping my breasts. In the corner of my eye I saw Polly had begun to masturbate herself. Rose would scold her later for that, I was sure, doing herself when a man had been available for her.

I rode Brad and Rose rode upon Dave as Cheyenne found her anus fully invaded by the horse. Amidst gasps and cries and screams of pleasure and just a touch of pain, we ran our course. At last we lay touching and kissing upon the towels, spent, happy. Rose eventually got up and served us drinks. Cheyenne, let down from the horse, consoled herself in the arms of Polly, and we ended the night watching the two of them wriggle into a spontaneous 69. Neither of them knew what it was called. They simply found comfort in their shared experience, their shared anal torment upon the horse. Their kisses evolved into licks and finally into the deepest embrace of all, with each of them putting their noses up the others' slit. On the ride back to the castle they both sat quite bashfully. They put the entire length of the limo seat between themselves. They did not want to be thought lesbians, and none of us, not even me, accused them of it.

Eventually, as the limo rolled along, Polly fell asleep. Her head drooped as she rode beside me and I watched as her eyelids fluttered closed. Soon her head was on my shoulder. I patted her hair. It was best, I thought, given what Rose kept promising us. I glanced up at her. She gazed ahead, saying nothing. Sylvia mixed drinks for us.

"Have a little something, Fleury," Rose said to me. I knew why. To lessen the agony of the whipping. I accepted, quietly. I sipped it. "Drink it all. You'll need it," Rose told me. We wore towels about ourselves. Our bikinis were lost, strewn back at the cabana on the dancefloor someplace. Being stepped on, perhaps, as the night wound down.

In a second seat, farther up, Joanne had stretched out. She'd been given over to a gang-bang by Sylvia at the club. Six men had gone down on her, while Sylvia prepped them, each in turn, Joanne tied over a trestle so she couldn't refuse. When all had been spent, save the last, Sylvia took him for herself.

We arrived at the castle. The moon was already set. I looked up as we got out and thought I saw bats flutter upward, high in the castle towers. I'd not been up there. I half expected to see myself, letting down my hair, begging to be freed.

The driver carried Polly to her room. We parted company at the top of the stairs. Sylvia, still chipper, took me to my own room. We walked in silence. She put me in the bathroom and I sat on the furred seat of the potty, fretting, while she ran a bath for me. She helped me into it when it was ready and slipped into the warm waters with me and bathed me. I felt limp. She washed me like a little girl might wash a doll. She was very attentive, shampooing my hair, scrubbing me right down to my toes, doing my back and my bottom for me. Afterward, when I'd been rinsed and toweled dry, she had me sit on the potty again. She placed a soft washcloth on it first, because when I first sat on it I still had sperm dripping from my hiney-hole from being fucked by Brad. We'd kissed goodbye, promised to meet there again, but I doubted we ever would. He was just my lover for the night, though I'd liked him very much. I belonged to Louis. And I was about to suffer for his love as I never had before.

As I sat on the potty's seat Sylvia did my makeup. She worked diligently, until everything was quite impeccable. You'd have thought I'd been going to a grand ball, not simply to bed. Then she stood me up, and walked me to the bed. I got in, slowly, letting her pull down the covers first. When I'd laid down she pulled my hands up and over my head and bound them to the back of my collar. I was imprisoned now. I still had my feet, but I knew she'd lock the door when she left. She kissed me goodnight. I could not resist her lips, with my hands bound behind me. She drew up the covers over me. Then she pulled back the curtain to let in the night air and the stars.

"Don't jump out the window," she teased.

"I want to," I confessed. She kissed me again.

"Don't worry," she said. "In the morning it will all be over. Try to get some sleep. Waiting's no fun."

I promised myself I'd stay wide awake. Slowly, though, exhaustion crept up on me. It might have taken only 15 minutes, perhaps a half hour. When I next regained consciousness it was with a jolt, as delicate fingers drew my covers down.

"Are you Branson?" I asked sleepily. I found myself staring into the deep blue eyes of a young, vivacious blonde.

"I'm his niece," she told me. To my surprise I saw she was dressed in a playsuit. "Branson's doing Polly," she told me simply. "But I'll be tougher, I can assure you. I know how much a woman can really take." I gazed at her with astonished eyes. She bent over me, confident, self- possessed. Her hair was perfect, long and blonde with gentle flowing curls in it. Her teeth were white. Her playsuit, white with little red velvet triangles, fit her like a glove. There was not much to it. A simple band of fabric, quite thin, looped round behind her neck. Then, in front, the playsuit looked a bit like a one-piece swimsuit, except that nothing covered her breasts except small lace-edged cups. They were held up by the strip of fabric round her neck. Otherwise, they would have fallen right down. Nothing covered her shoulders, her back, or even her front, except a narrow strip of sheer, rose-patterned nylon that ran from her nothing bra cups down to her pubic mound, where it slipped back between her legs to meet a single thread-like strip of lace that crossed entirely around her waist. One other thread-like strip crossed round behind her, joining the base of the bra cups just like a swimsuit top did. You could almost say that she wore a bikini, except it was made of lace and connected in front by the narrow strip of sheer nylon that ran down from her breasts, over her tummy, to meet her delta.

Where her delta was a red satin triangle beckoned. It's color was in sharp contrast to the whiteness of the rose-patterned nylon that made up the playsuit. I saw that a tiny white bow held up the red triangle. Untie it, and you had immediate access to her pubis. The same held true for her bra cups. White nylon circled her breasts, decorating them, but in the middle a slender triangle was tied up over each of her bosoms. Untie each of them, and her boobs would fall out and hang free. Of course, she was young, no more than 19, so her breasts jutted against the red satin triangles like juggernauts waiting to be launched into the sea. Each movement of her nubile form sent those twin rocket tits joggling softly over me, the red satin triangles straining to contain them.

"You have a cute playsuit," was all I could say, looking up at her. She had on long crystal earrings that dangled freely from her ears and made little tinkling sounds, like chimes. Elbow length gloves, not quite reaching all the way to her elbows, accented the red in her playsuit. While they were red, her thigh-high stockings were white. She was a true playmate, laced up with all the trimmings. But in her hand she held a birch rod. It had a little red and white lace bow tied at the handle end, while a spray of fresh birches stemmed out from the handle and hung loosely over my eyes.

"When I get hot from whipping you I can untie the triangles, see?" Branson's niece teased me. She tugged slightly at the white bow that held up the red satin triangle over her nearest breast. "And later, if I get really hot, I can of course untie myself down here too," she added, pointing down toward her delta with her finger. Then she carefully laid her birch rod aside and lifted me up from the bed. I helped a little, scrambling up with my feet, trying to find purchase on the sheets. It was hard, with my hands bound so ruthlessly over my head and behind my neck. She got me completely standing up, right on the bed, as if I were a 6-year- old playing games. She made sure I planted my feet solidly on the sheets. I wore no shoes. With the care of an X-Ray technician she positioned me, leaning me forward a little. Then she snapped a bar out from the wall and fixed it to the front of my dog collar. I was caught now, a fish hooked on a stiff pole. She pried open my mouth and snapped a small piece of wood up from the surface of the horizontal pole. This little piece, angled upward, she fitted into my mouth. It had a red ball on the end of itself. When I was gagged on the rubber ball she strung a strap round the back of my head, running it under my hair as best she could. The strap, attached to the base of the rubber ball, kept me attached to it.

"Can you breathe O.K.?" Branson's niece asked me. I tried to nod, could not, but she got the message. "I'm Bambi," she said to me. "Just in case you're wondering. But people have nicknamed me Thumper, as you'll soon see why."

I felt like I was at the dentist's. A big red ball was stuffed into my mouth and I was bent forward as if to have my bottom x-rayed. Bambi examined my bottom next, tracing her gloved fingers over it, prying apart the cheeks, feeling within my hole a little with her finger. She cupped my breasts, hefted them in each hand, as if I were livestock having my essential parts weighed. At last she stroked my thighs, cooing at how lovely they were, and when her hands reached my juncture she felt a little for my spot and touched me there, reassuringly, like a dentist might before he begins drilling.