I gazed out at the night sky. Even the stars seemed to be setting now, and I hoped morning would arrive before she could get started.

Within the privacy of the canopy she laid out her implements of flagellation like an artist might lay out his brushes. She gave me a mirror to watch, and I sometimes did, furtively, glancing off to the side to see what her reflection was doing. I saw her kneel upon the bed, quite happy and self-possessed. Among her implements she placed before herself a cane, several paddles, and three whips. I glanced away, too scared to look. My bottom cheeks bunched together. I felt my white ass flesh jiggling with nervous fear.

Bambi brushed back her hair. She selected the birch rod first, with awful nubs. She was kneeling, and seemed excited. She untied both her bra triangles as she knelt behind me, staring at my bottom. I saw her tits spring out and they quivered with lovely grace. Oh, how could one girl do this to another?

Taking a perfume spray bottle, Bambi misted a scent of sweet perfume onto my bare fanny. Then she put down the bottle and I thought I saw her rub herself a little where her red satin triangle was pulled up over her cunny. Was she aroused by the thought of whipping me? I tried to speak, to ask to be let go, but my words came out totally garbled. Bambi ignored me. She had a heavy pot of brine next to my bed and she leaned back and dipped her birch branches into it. Then she drew them out, dripping, and I watched as she brought them hovering over the bed. Droplets fell on my clean sheets, staining them with salt.

"Now, let's begin," Bambi said. She drew her hand back and swept the birch rod up under my outthrust bottom.

"Yeeoch!" I responded at once, arching up on my toes. My bottom stuck out all the more as I leapt from the blow.

"One down, 200 to go," Bambi giggled to herself. I thought she passed a fleet hand over her cunny again. With practised grace she re- dipped the birch rod. She trailed it back across the bed, leaving droplets again. I'd look like I'd wet the bed if she kept this up. But then, that would be the least of my troubles, wouldn't it? "You'll have such lovely marks to show off to everyone tomorrow," Bambi told me. Then, with me feeling ever-more like a bottom, nothing else, she whacked me right on my heinie again.

"Ooochch!" I yelped, my gag silencing me. Only the most primitive sound escaped my lips, not the distinct sound I'd intended. I was cultured no more. I was just meat now, an outjutting ass waiting to be punished.

"Ah, delicious!" Bambi told me. "I love how your bottom retracts when you're waiting for it. It won't save you, of course. But it's pretty." She dipped the birch again and gave me another blow, harder now, making me really strain up on my toes and almost ram the gag down my throat.

"AHCHCHCH!" I said, nearly choking, or so I imagined, on the big red ball that kept my lips pried apart. I squeezed my hind cheeks to try to throw off some of the stinging. Bambi reached up and palmed my cheeks with her gloved hands. Her touch was bitter, reminding me of the birch's imprint. Such soft gloves, yet such a stinging touch. She fondled me for a moment between my legs. I did not want to be pleasured there, but I dared not close my legs. I held them wide in a bold vee as she'd instructed me. She told me I was free to lift my legs as I needed to, but that if I kicked back at her I'd never forget it.

Shadows appeared outside our shrouded workplace. I felt as if I were giving birth, with my parents outside, waiting, wondering, asking passing nurses for news. I hand drew back the pink canopy of my bed. It was Rose. She was dressed in a formal gown, sipping wine. She smiled at me over the lip of her glass. Somehow within myself I knew it must be French Chablis. That wine was very good with oyster stuffing, I learnt once, as a little girl, studying a menu in a restaurant when I'd tired of coloring in the restaurant's logo in the children's activity book.

Rose's gown was held up by two spaghetti-thin straps over her frail, fragile shoulders. Her skin was white. The dress molded her closely but the portion covering her breasts consisted of but two uplifted circles of fabric. A man tugging at her dress might to get her attention might pull to hard and render her topless.

A hand settled on her shoulder. Louis! He came around from somewhere beyond and behind her, took up position beside her. He gazed at me with stern eyes. I wanted to beg forgiveness from him for whatever I'd done to deserve this but, I knew, I'd done nothing but be myself, his love, beautiful and loving him. This is what he did to girls he loved.

SKRAAAACK! The birch swept up again, catching the lowest portion of my jutting, tender bottom cheeks.

"Aaaaaaaah," I cried into my red ball gag, feeling the heat of the twitchy rods as they marked me with their nubbed stiffness. I let my bottom gyrate freely. I felt no shame despite showing off my ass, its crack.

"We had to tie Polly's legs," Rose told me. "But you are older. I want you to remain self-possessed, in control." She reached out and touched Bambi. "Let her settle down a little before giving each new stroke," Rose told her. "There is no hurry. I want her to savor each one, to dread it, to wait for it and then to scream aloud when she finally feels it. Make her whipping sensuous. Yes, it must be difficult for her, but she is not really in prison, and we are not really her jailers."

"Oh, alright," Bambi said. I think she was growing hot where it mattered most for, in my frenzied kicking and stamping on the bed, not kicking back but outward, like a disabled person trying to walk, I saw Bambi untie the triangle of satin over her cunt. She didn't untie the top triangle, as I thought she would, though. She reached within the vee of her legs and undid two impossibly tiny ties that held the base of her triangle of satin against the lips of her cunt. Falling outward, being caught finally by the topmost triangle, tied off above her mons, she looked like an Indian. She had on her flapping Indian triangle, one might say, hovering over her bush, flipping outward whenever she moved. I watched as Louis' eyes left me to find themselves transfixed by her coyly half revealed pussy. Bambi, sensing she was on display as much as me, randily parted my bottomcheeks and flicked her tongue within.

She skipped my hole, but licked all up and down the inside of my crack. Her hands held my injured fanny, spreading it, venting it, her fingers pressing against my newly awarded marks from the birch. I did not like being held thus, my hams lifted and held open by another girl. Worst of all, her fingers made my ass hurt more. Any touch upon my wounded cheeks seemed like an agony. And the night had just begun!

I closed my eyes. I tried to think of Polly. Anything to keep me from thinking of my own bottom. Was she being whipped now? It would be like whipping a little angel, I thought. A wingless angel, to be sure, but surely her cherubic bottomcheeks would be so babylike that Branson would go easy on her. Had she tried to escape him? Had she stuck out her tongue and leapt from her bed and made a game of it? Had Branson, wheezing and old, been forced to chase her about the locked bedroom until he finally caught her and tied her wiggling body to the head of her bed?

"NYAH! NYAH! NYAH! NYAH!" I could hear her teasing in my mind, as she realized she might just have the better of Branson and never be caught. Had Rose entered then, and helped? Had Andre been called to attend to her?

"OoooooOOOH!" I heard suddenly in the night air. At first I thought it was an owl. Then I realized it was Polly. "Oh, please!" I heard, then, "YahoooOOOOH!" and I thought I heard the crack of a leather whip, coming hard against her skin. She cried out again, and then again. Her screams merged with the crashing of the surf on the rocky beach far below. I felt a sea breeze enter through the window and cool my face. My hair fluttered briefly. The canopy of my bed ruffled itself, inspired by the wind.

A cane was produced. Louis had been holding it, just behind himself, not letting me see it until now. Gleefully Bambi accepted it. The length of it must have been six feet. It was wickedly slender. Rose, fearful of being hit by it, drew Louis back, holding his hand, squeezing it tight.

"Not- not too hard," Rose told Bambi, who I swear looked like a child with a new Christmas toy.

"Don't spare her," Louis said. I trembled at the sound of his words. His voice was rich, deep. He puffed on his pipe. Rose gasped a little as he exhaled and a cloud of tobacco smoke enveloped the both of them.

Bambi got off to one side to better position herself for applying the whip to my heinie. In my bare feet I stood waiting, my bottom red and sore but still deliciously white amidst the score of lines emblazoned across it. I begged them to stop but no one could understand me.

"Mmmm, such a tempting target," Bambi said, lustfully gazing at my shaking, frightened fanny. Oh, how could she? I was a girl, just like her. Had she no pity for me?

THWACK! In came the cane, blazing across my backside. I jumped up, all but the tips of my toes leaving the bed. My teeth ground against the ball that gorged within my mouth. I felt my neck yank on the end of the pole that held me submissive. Christ had not suffered this much upon the cross. I felt my bottomcheeks yammer together, shuddering within themselves as the whip struck, then bound outward, showing my crack. One moment my furrow was just a tight line compressed between my cheeks. The next it was wide apart, on display, letting them see my hole.

Louis placed his fingers upon the straps of Rose's dress. She watched from the corners of her eyes as he lifted her straps until, quite suddenly but not unexpectedly, they broke. Her dress fell to her waist. Her bosoms, bounteous in their maturity, came tumbling out to show their fleshiness and their quivering tips. Rose looked down at herself a moment, feeling Louis' eyes as he looked over her shoulder and admired her cleavage. Then she slipped onto my bed in her broken gown and got right behind me.

"Hang in there, you're doing great!" Rose told me. She reached beneath me and diddled my cunny. I gasped into my mouth-filling gag, wanting more, yet feeling so utterly humiliated. New pairs of eyes appeared. Men and women I did not know. How many people were in my bedroom? How many watched? They gazed at me dispassionately, as one might watch a showgirl, not knowing her name, not really caring. They drank wine and chatted amongst themselves. My only consolation was that, watching me, these nameless men would no doubt be inspired to do the same to their loves, who watched beside them. The women drank their wine in little gulps as they felt their loves' hands pass down possessively over their bottoms. They cared not for me, but they did care for themselves and their own tushies.

Rose picked up a riding crop. It was well worn. It must have been in the estate for years. I suspected it had begun its career on the flanks of horses, but somebody had brought it inside one day, and it had not been returned to the stable. Rose touched my heinie lightly with her fingertips as if to mark where she would hit me. Then, drawing in her breath, her tits rising as her lungs filled, she drew back her hand.

WHAP! The leather crop came against my skin with a forcefulness I had not expected. I felt my own lungs exhale, shaking my bare tits like fruit on a tree in a storm, as the crop damaged my heinie and left a weal. My ass shook. Pain gripped it. A line radiated inward until my cheeks seemed to bulge with pain. My first weal. I would bathe it later, passing my hand back over it, touching it, wondering at its fiery heat. But now my ass was outthrust, a charming treat for all to see, whitefleshed but with bitter marks upon it.

"Oh, does it hurt?" a young girl watching me asked aloud. She knew nothing, I guessed, seeing such torture for the first time tonight. Her bottom was most in danger then, most like to suffer as mine. Other women exchanged glances, said nothing, drank their wine freely.

"Yes, darling, it's so very harsh, isn't it?" Rose asked me. She selected a paddle next. Lifting it, she whacked it upon my behind, a dull thudding splat that came down over my ass so that the weal I'd just received was at the center of its impact.

"OOOOOH!" I hollared. I was crying now. There was no escaping it. They were being so horrid to me, so very horrid. My tears flowed wetly down my cheeks. The sea breeze from the window cooled my face but did nothing for my bottom. Why, why, why must they treat me this way? Why did Louis like this? And then, as I felt a pony lash striking me, as if training me like some lioness at the circus, I felt my bosoms shake again, slinging my coral tips about, and I felt my ass bound outward, and I knew. I was a flesh goddess, enticing them, charming them with my wrigglings. I had been reduced to tears and screams. I was no longer the sullen girl, the smarty goodlooking female cherry bomb, or the impish teasing trickster, like Polly, sassing the men and making them want me. I was theirs. They had me completely within their power. Louis owned me now. He might sperm me here and leave me here, stuck to this post, until I gave birth to his child nine months later. I had lost all control. But Rose was determined to take me yet one step further.

I felt a teacup passed beneath my cunt. Rose stroked my thighs. I felt her breath hot upon my raw bottom.

"Pee," Rose told me. "Pee like the young mare you are, right here, right in front of all these people. Don't hold back, darling. Tonight is all about letting go."

I resisted. As I heard Polly's screams from somewhere in the castle, I held myself in. My pee at least I would keep to myself, even if my bottom were presented for all to see, with my tears rolling down my cheeks.

"Alright," Rose said, seeing I would not obey. She withdrew the cup and took up a martinet. It's stiff, water soaked cords would show me no mercy. It had lain waiting, hidden, within the pot of brine. It was not very large or long. It did not need to be.

"Oh, let me do it!" Bambi begged. As if in answer Louis, who had escaped my eyes and circled round the bed, grabbed her from behind and pushed her face down into the sheets. There was nothing to undo or untie. She wore her playsuit, but her triangles were undone. The rest was just lace trimming. He unzipped himself. Seeing she was undone, Bambi balled her fist and pushed it between her teeth. Louis presented his cock to her cunt lips and nudged them apart with his blue-stemming cockhead. Suddenly he was in her, and Bambi gasped at the immediacy of his entry. She seemed to have trouble taking him for a moment, he was so swift, so hard. A cry escaped her throat.

When he was fully lodged, Louis began reaming Bambi with slow, deliberate strokes. Rose, for her part, took to whacking my bottom with the martinet. I felt the salt ooze from the stick with each cracking blow of it upon my heinie. I was in agony. I danced upon the bed, kicked back at her, was rewarded with a yet more deliberate blow. She went easy, striking me playfully, but the martinet is an awful instrument and it does not take much from its cords to make a girl's bottom surrender itself.

Brazenly my cheeks oscillated within a tight circle, moving constantly now, offering themselves, showing my fleshy hemispheres as if they were baubles at some crude market fair. I flexed them and shook them. I squeezed them and pushed them out toward Rose, hoping perhaps to bang her in the face with my bottom. For her part she kept applying the martinet, each stroke carefully aimed, laid on with precision, her bosoms lifting and falling and jostling with her every wrist-swinging sweep of the stick.

In a sudden shamelessness, not even waiting for the teacup, I peed upon the sheets of my bed.

"Oh, look!" A female cried, pointing at me. They all watched with fascination in their eyes.

"Yes," Rose hissed, and she gave me another ass-biting stroke of the martinet, even as I offered my water to her. A big stain grew beneath me and I thought of my mother. She seemed so loving and caring now. She had wanted to protect me, yet here I was, showing off my ass like some long lost treasure and peeing out my golden stream.

Bambi moaned by my knees as Louis hammered her with his cock. As I peed, he spurted his sperm into her. We both went together, as it were, me on the pristine bed and he within the youthfully clutching lips of her cunt. There was a round of applause. Indiscreetly Rose lifted her skirt and put her hand beneath herself and masturbated her cunt. With her free hand she gave me another blow from the martinet, then another, trying to restrain herself but feeling ever more lusty by the moment. She screamed out as she came quickly to orgasm, jamming her fingers within herself. She swung her fist in again toward me, holding the martinet, but lost her grip on it suddenly, hitting me only with her bare hand. Weeping with pleasure she collapsed against my fanny. Her salty tears flowed over my damaged flesh, doing me no good at all, but she must have thought she was helping me for she cried freely against my heinie, rubbing her wet cheeks against me, and finally she kissed me with her lips.

Louis found he had more sperm to offer. Withdrawing his newly spurted prick from Bambi, he got up on the bed and poked himself into Rose. She ground her face into my ass as he pushed his rod up inside her. They went at it, she licking my bottom while he reamed her well, giving her long and deeply penetrating strokes as if he'd lost nothing in Bambi.

The guests in my room helped Bambi up from the bed. Two women embraced her and kissed her. As Rose laved my bottom with her tongue, tracing my welt, kissing my cheeks, Louis behind her, the crowd undressed and took to the floor for fucking.

All around me sounds of passion and love began to arise, as in the distance I saw the first fleeting glimpses of sunlight. Polly's screams had faded. Amidst the moans and cries of my guests the birds outside began to chirp. They saw the sun and awakened to it, even as we ourselves were working our way toward sleep.

It consoled me to know that the rug burns on my guests would be intense. Their bottoms would hurt like mine did, though not as much, but some, and that was enough. I let my tears flow freely down my cheeks and I tongued my gag. Its balled firmness remained wedged between my teeth, filling my mouth, making me feel like a pony harnessed for a morning ride. At last the sun shone brightly through the window and, like vampires retreating from it, to await the new moon, we were done.

Rose gently detached me from the pillar and my gag. She undid my wrists. Drawing my arms out, she flexed them for me. I was too weak, too overwhelmed. I was limp in her arms. I smelled sperm and saw she'd been well-fucked by Louis. His essence ran down the insides of her thighs.

I was laid down in my bed. The wet spot loomed beneath me but I did not care. The sheets were crisp and difficult against my bottom, despite their handwoven softness. The wet spot touched my back only, from my shoulders down to the lowest part of my waist. My bottom had a dry perch, but I could not stand it, and I rolled over onto my tummy to escape the stinging of my soft bed. I let my bottom expose itself to the cool morning air. I raised it up, pulling my knees toward me a little. I felt the comforting softness of my pillow beneath my face and wished so much that I could rest my bottom on the consoling silkiness of my bed, but it was not possible.

"Oh, she wants more!" the young girl, rising and dressing, commented. She simply did not understand. The guests bustled about now, reclothing themselves. All was quick kisses and brief words of goodbye as the sun flooded the room. Passionate lovers who had kissed deeply into each other's throats passed away from each other with only the slightest acknowledgement. They were like passersby on the street now, each going their own separate way. Women who had joined together and brought each other to frenzied bliss parted company, hardly speaking, not caring. Men who had swapped wives let go of their new loves like children tossing away ice cream cones after licking out all the cream.

Suited up, dressed again, their breasts and cunnies and loins tucked away, the guests departed. I heard them start their cars a few minutes later down in the parking lot that lay alongside the castle. All was done, all was gone. Rose drew the curtains to keep the sun off my bottom. Taking Louis' hand, they left the room and locked the door behind them.

I sobbed into my pillow and felt the cool morning breeze filter through my curtains and play across my heinie. I had received. I had been good. Louis would love me forever, I told myself, and I fell quickly asleep.

When I woke up I was startled to feel such hot pain in my bottom. Then I remembered. I looked up. The post was still there. Rose had not bothered to retract it. I groaned as I tried to get up. My bottom was flaring, a deep-seated ball of glowing heat. Yet somehow, within its tenderness, I felt a sexiness. I was aware of myself as never before. I was new somehow. I kneed my way to the edge of my bed and got down from it. I felt the soft fur of the rug as it impressed itself between my toes. I walked to a mirror and turned around.

"Ah!" I cried as I looked at myself. My lightly tanned flesh, with my white boobs hanging like young fruit from my ribs, was perfect. Except in one place. And that was my bottom. There, my untanned flesh, so dearly protected from the sun to make me look sexy without my clothes on, was bright red. It was as if someone had drawn an intricate road map across my hemispheres. Not a street had been left out. All over my white ass I saw many little lines, each giving my delicate bottom an overall appearance of being like a well-stitched tomato, more red than white now, but with a little white showing through here and there to remind me of what I once was.

God, I had gotten it good, much worse than at abandon gardens. Had Polly suffered the same? Would we be the twins of tortured bottoms? Shivering, I let go of my hind cheeks and wrapped my arms around myself. I felt my bosoms bulbing within my arms, protesting, wanting to hang free. I took myself to the bathroom. I walked like a wounded soldier, walking wounded, tip-toeing across the rug, so afraid for my heinie, yet somehow happy within myself. I had obeyed Louis. I would claim him now as my own.

I drew back the shower curtain and stepped into the tub. I did not know whether to stand or sit. Finally I turned on the water and just stood under it. I felt like an abandoned kitten, my blonde hair streaming down under the shower, sticking to me in its wetness. For a long time I just stood and felt the cool lukewarm water of the shower run down over my bottom. I was alone. I did not want to be alone. I wanted to be with others. I could not bear this loneliness. Where were Joanne and Sylvia? I deserved their attention now. Perhaps I had awakened sooner than they thought I would. What time was it? I did not know.

Finally I stepped from the shower and dried myself. Where was everybody? Why were they not here to celebrate my return to the living? Where was Louis? He should kiss me and bathe me in the morning, not leave me to wash myself like some cheap whore done with her night of tricks. I walked out into my bedroom, feeling my bottom joggle boldly behind me, all red and tortured and making me walk with exaggerated movements of my ass. I fished out a bikini from the dresser. I tied on the top, checking it in a mirror. I dared not wear the panties. But I tossed them over my shoulder just in case. Who knows? Somebody downstairs might have a whip and decide mine was the perfect ass to apply it to.

I came down the front staircase with my hair all brushed and glowing with luminous blondness, my makeup perfect, my lipstick red and inviting. I wore my bikini top. My panties were slung over my shoulder. My bush, necessarily, was bared to whomever might greet me.

And there, within the parlor, just looking up now to see me, was Rose. She had older women with her. They were dressed primly, as if at some neighborhood meeting, or some vanguard discussion group for school reform. Feeling a little like one of their daughters, though, thank God, I did not see my mother there or any of her friends, I sauntered as unselfconsciously as I could down the rest of the stairs and, hoping to reach the pool, through the parlor, for that was the shortest way.

I was gazed at by all the ladies. They were twice my age. Had they been like me once? I did not try to hide my bush. I let my bush and my cunny show as freely as if I were onstage at Las Vegas. I walked with my back erect, my young breasts lifted high. Only my bottom remained undisciplined, waggling excessively, due to my whipping. As I passed through them, trying to ignore them, I felt their eyes paste themselves upon my bottom as its clenching cheeks came into view. They gasped at my marks. I put my hands instinctively behind myself to cover up my cheeks but I winced when my palms touched them. I had to draw my hands away and let them see me there, with all my burny marks.

I made it past them and into the next room, then through the next, and out a side door to the pool. I saw Polly splashing in it. She looked like a little dolphin. As I drew close she greeted me happily and then dove beneath the waters, sticking her bottom up as her head went down.

Oh! They had done her too, just like me, but the waters were cooling her ass for her and letting her absorb the pain and accept it. Quickly, tossing my panties aside, I stepped to the edge of the pool and waded into it. Descending a flight of tiled steps I let the water rise up and take me. Ah, it was chilly, but so comforting against my ass! I turned my head and saw Louis and Andre lounging nearby, in bathrobes. It was still morning, eleven o'clock perhaps. Andre was eating a brunch served to him by Maria and Louis was dressed in a silk bathrobe, smoking a pipe. He looked up from a newspaper in his lap, gazed at me, then returned to the sports page. I did not mind. I loved him. I would keep him forever, just as he kept me. I paddled out into the water and joined Polly. She took possession of a beach ball floating aimlessly on the water. We stood in the shallow end and, letting our breasts hang free to entertain the men, our tops discarded and floating away from us on the surface of the pool, we passed the big beach ball back and forth to each other, volley-ball style, batting it back and forth as our titties joggled in their fullness and I felt the tips of mine grow hard.

Later, as the sun reached its zenith, Andre and Louis cast off their robes. They entered the pool and took Polly and I from behind. Despite the roughness of their prickly hairy skin against my bottom, I felt soothed somehow. Polly and I kissed and tongued each other's mouths as the men did us in the shallow end, bending us forward like puppies being given enemas, making us feel them within ourselves. When they spurted, Polly and I cried out together, breathing into each other's mouths, clutching at each other's tits. I felt her nipples pricking my palms and I squished her breasts in my hands, feeling their youthful resilience, and she handled mine just as freely.

When we'd been spermed Polly and I got out of the pool. The men laid out soft towels for us on reclining chaise lounges. We sat down happily, wincing and crying at first, but finally accommodating ourselves to our new state, sinking our bottoms into the towels and welcoming the attention of the men. Not satisfied with having done us in the pool, they each placed their cocks in our mouths. Polly and I sucked on them as Maria laid out brunch for us. We were spermed again. After they were done Polly and I wiped our mouths with napkins and then, feeling silly and decadent, we ate our brunch lying back in our chairs, feeding our eggs and sausages into our sperm-soaked mouths. Our titties wobbled freely, uncovered in the sun. We would be tanned there, but I didn't care. Let the sun brown my breasts a little. I would surprise my mother with an all- over tan.

Polly and I ate lustily. We were hungry from our night's play. The men watched us, mesmerized. We were just schoolgirls, yet here we were, soaking up the sun and loving life and letting them do as they pleased with us. Out of the corner of my eye I saw their cocks grow anew. They were excited by us, and we by them.

As soon as Polly and I were done we got up from our chairs. The men stood, expectantly, their cocks stemming at us with renewed vigor.

"What now?" I asked Louis as I drew close to him. My fingers touched his cock. I let them play upon it. I touched his pee slit. We did not kiss, or embrace. Not yet. He ran his fingers over my breasts and my belly.

"You are truly beautiful," he said to me.

"Why, thank you, Louis," I replied.

Polly and Andre negotiated with similar words, touching, exploring, finding each other as fresh and new as when we'd first met. But my bottom, and Polly's, promised that we'd be submissive.

And at last I could say the name of Rose's castle to myself. It was Cunt Castle. "Cunt Castle," I said aloud to Louis, looking up at him sweetly.

"Yes," he replied. He touched my cunny and rubbed me gently, sticking himself in a little bit. Feeling his fingers in me I fondled his cock. That was what belonged in me, but we were just playing now, allowing ourselves these few special moments before retreating to a bed in the castle. We would spend the afternoon jousting, I knew. Him with his cock and me with my bottom and slit.

Andre and Polly drew close. I looked at her. I tugged Louis' fingers out of my slit and went to her. I put my arm around her waist. I was slightly taller. I gazed into her uplifted eyes.

Maria passed in front of us. She had an umbrella over her head to protect her wrinkled features from the sun. Lightly I reached out and plucked it from her fingers. I lifted it over my head, then passed it over Polly's so that it would shelter her the most, me a little less.

Maria stood, looking at me. She had been tasked with walking Rose's dalmatian and she did not like having her umbrella stolen. She had so many chores. Our brunch waited to be cleared away, yet she'd been given yet another job. The dalmatian strained at its leash, eager for its walk. I think there was a female dog down by the worker's huts, in heat, hoping her savior might come to visit her. Was Maria to mate the dogs? I did not know.

"Come, Polly," I said to my girlfriend. I brushed past Maria. Let her work for us, just as Polly and I worked for Louis and Andre. Let her always be in attendance on us.

"Walk the dog, Maria," I said to her, commanding her, and I relished my new attitude of command. With my arm around Polly's waist, holding her close, I walked her toward the house. Andre and Louis followed. They watched our alluring bottoms, all red from their punishment and, I doubted not, due to receive more before our stay at the castle was over. But I did not mind. We had come here to try new things.

"What- what are we going to dooo?" Polly asked me. I let my eyes fall upon her breasts and I watched as their tips stemmed with wiggling pleasure into the mid-day sun.

"I'm going to serve you for dessert," I said to her, thinking quickly. Yes. I would lay her out on a sofa, her hands pressed to her sides, and squirt whipped cream on her as she lay watching me. I would stand over her and decorate her, freely showing my bush, both of us quite nude. Our boyfriends would watch, astonished, waiting for the scrumptious dessert to be served. And we'd eat her then, feeding like Romans at an orgy, all of us naked as she, but she at least clothed in whipped cream and syrup.

And we'd invite Rose. And she'd be delighted by my inventiveness. She would partake of Polly with us. I smacked my lips and gazed into Polly's eyes. She was breathless with excitement.

"Served for dessert?" she asked. She'd lost enough of her babyishness in her whipping last night to know not to protest.

"Yes," I replied. "As girls, Polly, we must know what our foremost duty is."

"Waht's that?" she asked, mangling her question a little in her excitement.

"To serve men," I said. And, glancing over my shoulder, I knew that before I left this strange castle I'd see Andre, at least, reduced to dessert himself, his cock stemming up through Cool-Whip, streaked with chocolate syrup, just as Jack's had been. The thought made me shiver right through to the depths of my belly. "To serve men," I said again, and we walked with swinging bottoms into the cool, shadowed sanctuary of the castle.