Camp Lindenwood Part 3/5 Of Clowns and Other Costumes

Chapter 3: Of Clowns and other Costumes

Donna

The next day is Saturday. Together with Halla, Avery and Simone I am decorating the gym for tonight’s grand finale, the homecoming dance. This year’s theme? A costume party. As we hang streamers and inflate balloons, I watch each of the three girls that remain from my master’s selection. I survey each one’s body, temperament, preferences and habits, making mental notes. Instead of painting banners I
study the way Simone paints her lips a deep crimson to contrast her light red hair. Instead of testing the sound system I quiz Halla on the sexual conquests she experienced as an exchange student earlier this year. And instead of covering the 15 round tables scattered across the gym with 15 little gold tablecloths, I observe how Avery covers her body with the loose folds of her flowery sun-dresses, hiding the graceful figure that lurks beneath.

As night descends the cabins are a-bustle with campers and counselors readying themselves for the evening’s festivities. In the girl cabins, which I head, carefree adolescents, independent of their fathers’ watchful reproaches are bedecking themselves as scantily clad geniis, French waitresses, and other assorted stereotypes. I would like to say that the counselors took a more mature approach, but that would be a sad little lie. I myself, knowing what is on my master’s agenda for the evening, have selected a cowgirl costume. In my tight blue plaid shirt knotted at the waist, short dark tan shorts, cowboy boots and ten gallon hat, I am hardly the picture of modesty. My hair is braided into two little braids, much as it was on that very first day: the day I became pet number 16; the buttons of my blouse can barely contain the cups of my overflowing bra. The other girls are no better.

When I enter the crowded gym, I feel like I have been displaced inside a thirteen year old’s wet dream. Everywhere I look, I see skin. Pale skin, tanned skin, dark skin, green skin, floating about me in an orgasm of tulle and satin, spandex and paper mache. Costumes, a flimsy mask… a poor excuse for a chance to abandon inhibitions for the night. In the middle of the room I see Simone and Halla. They are dancing across from each other, playfully tapping each other on the shoulders, on the breasts… laughing, caressing each other’s hips… kissing the air that floats between them. Simone, is a Neko style cat of some sort. As usual, she has not expended too much effort, letting the sleek lines of her svelte body speak for themselves. She is wearing a tight, leopard print, corset style dress. The dress hugs her small chest into little, cupcake sized orbs. Orbs lined in edges of fine black lace. She is wearing slender black kitten pumps and two furry cat ears part her wave of red hair. Across from her Halla is draped in… what appears to be just a long white, v-necked t-shirt… it’s a little sheer… and clings to the curves of her body. She is wearing white go-go boots and tiny feathery wings (I thought I saw her and Emma Bixby working on them in the craft shack just the other day) which are pinned to her back. Through her auburn hair, across her smiling face … and on her chest? She has dusted a fine gold powder. An angel.

I watch them for a minute or two, the rhythm of their bodies, tapping each other, bumping and rubbing under the rotating party lights is mesmerizing. Hypnotic. I make a mental note to myself before moving on, snaking my way along the edge of the gym, nodding to buff Trojans and pleather clad firefighters…

In the corner I see him. My master. Master Drake. He is wearing a samurai costume of black embroidered silk, two swords, the diasho, are clapped behind his back. I have my suspicions about what is really sheathed in those two bucklers, but I am sure my curiosity will soon be satisfied. Wrapped around my master’s neck, by wrists she has shackled together herself, is Kelly. Kelly, in a strategically shredded black and white striped tank top and black cut-offs, her hair braided into a whip.

Kelly

In the corner I see my chance. There are so many fucking hormones floating around this room right now… no one would notice a little funny stuff in the corner. Still, I’d have to act fast or I’d have to give the other girls the flick. Oh shit. Donna just walked in the room and I know Sho’ won’t be far behind. Pressing my crotch up to Master Drake’s silk-covered erection, I rub my breasts against his chest. Ask him if he would be so kind as to notice my tits. He bends his head down to watch them bounce around a little as I grind against his fat cock. My arms circle his neck; I rub my long fingers along his hairline. Open my mouth. He sees that it is not empty.
“A present, for me, pet?” he asks, leaning in.
“Yeth,” I grin, spreading shiny pink lips.
As I feel him dip in, part my lips with his hungry mouth, suck my tongue and extract my gift, I swell with pride. He reaches into his mouth, spits the hard, metal object into his hand. Lifting my handcuffed arms above his head…. And in his hand. A key.

Simone

When the music stops I drop my arms to my sides and walk off the dance floor. Halla follows. There are waaaayyyy too many people in here. I make a beeline for the door. I would like some air. As usual, when I pass through the throngs, people step aside, make room for me. I am used to that. I ask Halla if she will go get me something to drink… I tell her a chardonnay… (ha!) and wind my way over to the door. I am dying to leave.

On my way out the door I pass Shoshanna, who has, apparently, just arrived. She is costumed as Harley Quinn, the sociopathic psychiatrist from the Batman comics, but I bet she doesn’t know that. She just thinks she’s a clown, and in my estimation, she’s not too far off. The French, however, are comic book connoisseurs, and I am no exception.
“You must’ve got here early” she says to me, the tiny bells she has tied to her wrists and ankles tinkle with every remark.
I roll my eyes.
“I got here early so that I could leave early”
I move on.
Where is Halla with my drink? I vacate the gymnasium as quickly as possible, preferring to wait for my drink outside away from the mooobbss of people, but when I get outside I find that under the single street lamp illuminating the door, I am not alone.

Under the light, by the door, sipping a huge glass of water, is Drake, the head of the camp. My mouth waters.
“Pardon…” I try to squeeze by his frame, “excusez m….”
“Leaving so soon?” he is staring down at me, not exactly friendly, but not so bad, really, either. He has this magnetism…. that I had not noticed before. I squirm a little under his gaze, then shrug it off. He is dressed in a black silken costume with red and bronze dragons crisscrossing his chest and back. His eyes are blue.
“Are you going to dock my pay if I do?” I ask. I smile up at him. Let my splash of red hair fall away from my face…
“Oh, I am sure there are plenty of ways you could make up any lost wages…” He is laughing too. Laughing as he palms my ass with his hand.
“Stay” he insists. “Stay until the end.”
I sigh. Try to avert my eyes. I am really thirsty.
When I turn back to the door, I run into Halla. She is carrying two cups of a sickening red punch. I breeze past her. “We’re staying.”

Donna

The girls are all here, all here now that Simone has re-entered the gym. I know Avery, it’s not her time yet. I see her serving food in her pleated skirt and blue checked apron, her little red hoodie, her loose Boticelli curls framing her round blue eyes. “Little Red Riding Hood, how well will you ride HIM?” I wonder to myself. I know she will, we all will soon enough.

Shoshanna has now taken over Simone’s spotlight, in the middle of the dance floor doing the limbo. Her black, white and red leotard stretches over the span of her breasts and her hair, done up in pigtails tied with coordinating ribbons, sweeps the floor as she arches backwards, her nipples, apparent against the sheen of spandex, just touching, not quite tipping the metal bar stretched over her. Everyone is watching. Everyone is laughing. I am waiting… waiting… waiting.

Finally, at like 12:30, when the adolescent libido begins to lag, the revelers begin to disperse. Kelly and Shoshanna have, of course, already volunteered for clean-up crew… knowing full well what that would entail. But I am shocked as hell when I see Simone kiss Halla on the cheek, wave her off and stay behind as well. It is dark, late when we begin the tedious work of stripping the tables and throwing away the piles of debris that litter the floor. Kelly is no help either as she says she has lost the key to her handcuffs. Instead she just sits on the bleachers, waiting. We are all still waiting.

Simone

Drake is sitting by himself at one of the chairs that skirt the dance floor. I feel his eyes surveying my body as I slip by him, feel his appraisal of my tiny breasts, my French curves, my fine ass. I bend down, reach under his seat, gather the fallen napkins that lay prostrate on the floor. As I lean back into a standing position, I feel his hand, firm on my arm. He is looking at me directly. He takes my right breast. Strokes it with his fingers.
“Tell me” he says “what do you do?”
All around me, the bustle has stopped, three girls await my response.
“I do everyzing” I murmur, my voice low. I brush strands of saffron colored hair out of my eyes.
“Now you tell me…” I continue, settling against his knee… “what iz it zat you do?”
“I zee all deese guuurls… they are soo enthralled by you… what iz it about you that makes all zee girls cum?”
He snaps his fingers with his spare hand, the one that hasn’t lit onto my right tit, burrowed under the stiff silk of my top and begun to pinch my nipple. Soundlessly, all three girls are at his side.
“Would you like to find out?” He is looking at me, earnestly, placing one of my small hands against the swelling in his crotch.
I stand up, turn around to face him. “I will admit…” I say, straddling his lap with my two lithe legs, the slip of my dress riding up my thighs, “I am curious…” my voice trails away… “curious to know…. will you make me cum?”
“You should rephrase that, pet” he says, rising from the table, letting me tumble from his lap. The other girls follow him to a long, oblong table, the one where Halla had retrieved my punch several hours before.
“How” he says, indicating that Donna should sit cross-legged at the head of the table.
“…how will I make you cum.”

Shoshanna

Master Drake has settled himself on the table. His head rests in Donna’s naked lap, his dark hair is bedded by her cunt. She is all naked now, except for her hat and boots. I too have peeled away my body suit, and at master’s command, have mounted the table next to him. Fingering my ass, gripping the fat flesh of my cheeks, leaving hard, red imprints, he lowers me onto the heart of his erection.
“Thank you Master Drake” I gasp, as I feel his head burrow into the recesses of my pussy.
“Touch yourself, cunt” he demands. I begin to fondle my clitoris, but he is impatient, grabbing my hands and moving them up and down up, on me.
“Match my rhythm” he demands “do it now.”
I ride him vigorously, trying to match the escalating violence in which he is groping my clit, pulverizing its tiny red swirl with his palm. My tumescent breasts are knocking against each other like two harnessed balloons. The tinker-bells strung to my ankles and in my hair jangle with every heave and thrust. My back is arched into a backwards “C” of contorted passion.

Donna is pulling me forward now, pulling me by my arms and by the rounds of my chest. She is lowering her head against my nipples, licking their airy plumpness, like rose colored gum drops that stiffen under the nips of her small, white teeth. Then she is kissing my mouth, licking my eyelids… returning again to sip on my bosom.

Master Drake is pulsating against the weight of my body. I am beginning to cum. Too soon, I moan. The transluscence of my wetness soaks, streaks my master’s legs…
“MASTER DRAKE… MAAASTTTEERRR DRAAAkkke….” My eyes are closed, my mouth is dry. My head is rattling with the force of each thrust.
Behind me, Kelly has wrapped her long, handcuffed arms around my neck. She is licking my ears, kissing my throat.
“You’re making that bitch cum already, master” she moans above the increasing volume of my shrieks.
“Puh-leeaaseee…” she continues, rubbing her head up against mine, touching his abdomen with her long fingers… “let me be next. Let me have your cum.”

Kelly

I know Shoshanna’s my friend and everything, but hey, “all’s fair in love and war” and this was one war I intended to win. Even with my wrists bound together, I am at least 4 inches taller than Shoshanna and much stronger. I push her, with all of my weight, cradling her in the circle of my arms until she has toppled off of the master, capsized onto his chest, her tits wrapped in his hands. I ignore her look of rage and fall upon his dick. First, hungry, I lick of Sho’s juices. I finger his ass hole, I kiss Shoshanna’s which pricks at my touch. I finesse my master’s hungry dick with my shackled hands.
“Tell her to turn around, master” I say, indicating Shoshanna who looks like she is ready to kill me.
“Do it yourself” he responds calmly, parting the lengths of his silken tunic so that I can better service him with my mouth.
“Turn around Shoshanna,” I say, “you’re gonna lick my fucking ass.”
Shoshanna ignores me.
Sitting by herself, on a folding chair a few feet from where we lay, Simone is watching us. Her face is blank; I can’t tell what she’s thinking, but she is watching. She is definitely watching.
“Yo, Sho-ee,” I urge, “I’m turning around, turn around, rim my ass…”
Shoshanna doesn’t budge.
“Do it.” I hear him tell her, his mouth close to her face. “Listen to her.”
I see Shoshanna’s chin jut out, she is mad as hell, but she does what she is told. Extending her tan legs, she pivots as I swivel around on the table and ask my master to take me, like he did my sister pet… only I will do him backwards.
I feel him, probe, push, insert himself into the narrow tunnels of my cunt. I feel him slant against the natural curve of my body, and then slam against the rough of my g-spot almost immediately. I hear him grunt with pleasure as Shoshanna grudgingly bends and licks the entrance to my ass, her turned up nose rubbing the thick of my crack.
“Aww gawd,” I pant as the addictive flush comes rushing upon me. My body crumples as I plunge over him, again and again… My hands are useless, balled up in front of me, grabbing the edge of the table. My long, gazelle-like legs are the only things that keep me up, they are squeezed around my master’s legs. In back of me Shoshanna is tonguing my ass. Licking me, suckling my skin. And he in turn is tonguing hers…. Probing the dimple of her ass with the stiff of his tongue. An appetizer, and sitting next to me, reclined in her chair, the straps of her dress falling down her arms, is the main course.

When I am done, when I can’t take any more, my energy spent when his is still hard, I grudgingly slither off the table. It’s awkward because my damn hands are still bound and my master has not decided that he is ready to release me. Shoshanna is also a fucking mess. Her one pigtail is all crooked. Her red lipstick is smeared across her face and down her neck so that she really does look like a fucking clown. She too dismounts.

Turning his head, master tells Simone “your turn.”

Donna

She stands up, slowly, languidly, shrugging off her dress, slithering out of her rose colored, lace panties. Master Drake bends over and hoists her onto his lap before reclining back onto his human pillow. Me.

Unlike the other girls, Simone takes her time. Doesn’t rush. She lifts her legs on either side of master, stretches them out, then tucks her still heeled feet underneath his knees, shifts her weight, plants her hands on his abdomen. She lifts her body, and slowly lowers it back down.
“Tu l’aime comme ca?” she whispers as his penis disappears into her flesh.
“Do you like it like this?”

Shoshanna

I am watching Simone waiting for her eruption of energy. Every hair on my body is primed, waiting to hear her scream….
Kelly

… but she doesn’t scream. She doesn’t yell. She hardly moves at all.

Donna

Her hands are planted firmly, squarely on master’s pelvis. I see the muscles of her stomach twitch and underneath her, suddenly, the unmistakable groans of my master.
“bitch” he calls her.
She still hasn’t moved.
“bitch….” he says it again, spits it. I can see the muscles around Simone’s ass, clench and unclench…. slowly, quickly… like a heartbeat.
She is speaking to him in her low, throaty voice, her red hair curtains her face.
“Qu’est ce je tu satisfait?”

Simone
“Do I satisfy you?” I whisper, bending over his prostrate form.
“Do I?” I have asked the question a million times, of a million different lovers, but never before had I cared about the response.

Inside of me, in the depths of myself, I feel his penis begin to twitch. My muscles surround him, wrap themselves around him, soft, warm, velvety muscles coil around his shaft. The corners of my labia unfold for him, the hot, moist walls of my vagina stretch and engulf him. Flank him like a thousand pink lips swallowing him whole.

I feel him inside me, his pulse and swell, his response to each palpitation, each clench and release. My muscles are strained with the effort, my orgasm stirring his own as my muscles convulse, collapse around him like the falling walls of Jericho.

“May I please…”
“have your cum…”
“s’il vous plait?”

To answer swiftly, he rises from his repose, knocking my ass to the tabletop, upending my legs. He is ripping himself from the tight grip, the confines of my sweetness, and soon he is ejaculating… in great, huge doses along the concourse of my stomach, spraying my small chest and along my arms.

As the two vampires draw near to suck his lather off of me, I lean close, my berry red lips to his ear.

“Face it Tiger, you just hit the jackpot.”

Shoshanna

That was the night I finally lost my virginity for the second time.

It wasn’t a very dignified picture. After Master Drake came all over Simone, after she made a big production of wiping it in Kelly and my hair, of rubbing our faces in it, literally until my nose stung with the salty burn, after Master was satisfied that not a single drop was wasted, he beckoned Kelly to undo his swords. Sheathed in them, instead of metal, were two dildos, a long, rigid one and a shorter thick one. Pulling a folding chair a few feet in front of him, he bids her sit. Beckoning Donna closer to him, he unfastens a chain from around her neck, upon which, I now notice, is strung a key. Bending down in front of Kelly’s expectant frame, Master unlocks each side of the cuffs; I hear the click as they fall away. Placing a dildo in each of her hands, he motions her to pleasure herself… one to her mouth and one in her cunt. As she begins the rhythm, the solitary salsa, he bends down and refastens the cuffs, one around her ankle and one around the center bar of the chair.

For me, another chair. I begin to sit.
“Not for you pet.” He says. He motions for me to crouch under it, my face obscured by the seat, my virgin ass pointed upward. On top of the chair perches Simone, she spreads her legs, revealing the downy fluff of fair hairs lining her entrance way. Her knees point upward, her feet wrap around the edge of the seat…
“Like zees, mastair?” she asks, smiling up at him
And so, like a clock being wound, our gears begin to shift, and our intricate quintet begins.

Master Drake, kneeling on the floor, his body erect, is massaging the pucker of my ass, it’s brown button is winking up at him. Underneath my chair, I shut my eyes and wait. Beside him, Kelly sits, chained to her seat, with a dick poking her throat and another pricking her belly. Every now and then, master reaches up to stroke her legs, sample the sour juices that she excretes with each pull. Behind him, his pet, his favorite, Donna, rims his ass with the confidence of having done it dozens of times before. With her hands, she pleasures herself, injecting her pussy with a flat fingered rush and then alternately inserrtng her fore-finger, like a corkscrew, into the ass of her lover. Simone, on her chair, has opened her legs like a book and Master Drake has buried his face in the warm comforts of her lap.

As for me, I am down on my knees and I am aflame. As I feel the weight of his dick, puncture the surface of my ass hole I almost collapse from shock and shame. Stubbornly, it refuses entry. I feel the slap, the smack of his hand, the sting of his reproach on the top of my ass.
“Don’t you want this, cunt?” he asks, lifting his face from Simone’s loins. He is teasing me, wiping his dick on the back of my thighs, bracing his legs for another go. “Maybe I should make you beg.”
“Please Master Drake…” I whimper; the humiliation, the attention, the desire all intermingled
“please… my ass is yours.”
He is probing my hole with his finger, his thumb, digging his nail into its tender skin, bracing me, testing me.
“How do you want it pet?” he demands I answer.
Through tears I respond “hard Master, please fuck my ass hard.”

And so, because I asked, that is what he does. Pulling the sides of my bottom apart with his hands, he plunges into my nether regions without a thought to my pain. I feel the sides of my anus tearing away as his cock parts them… rips them aside. I feel the nauseating burn as his dick slithers further and further. I am wriggling uncontrollably. I moan unintelligibly from under the chair. Simone’s foot is pushing down on my backbone; I finally hear her yell… almost, for her cries are drowned out by my own.
“You love it you little cunt, admit it, you love it” I hear him urge, he is covered in perspiration.
“Tell me…” he moans as he shudders…
“I love it. Master Drake” calls my muffled voice. “Please, please may I take your cum in my ass.”
Yet once I again, I am denied. As the moment of climax nears, Master Drake pulls away and proffers his filth covered dick to Simone who licks it daintily with round, raspberry lips, murmuring how good he has been to her, thanking him profusely while driblets of moisture run down her chin.

Donna

As Master Drake’s body lounges against my torso, his head on my shoulder, watching Simone lap up his mess, I run my hands along his temples, smooth out the crumples in his dark hair. Shoshanna has uncurled from her fetal position on the floor and Kelly has been released. Master Drake absent-mindedly runs his finger along the swirly pattern of the 16 engraved on my crotch. But before the post-coital glow can completely fade, I lean in, bend down and whisper four words in my master’s ear:
“Halla: laundry room: tomorrow.”

For the incomparable Master Drake