Chapter 4: Dirty Laundry
Halla
Today is Sunday, the last day of a long summer at Camp Lindenwood. In just a few days I will be returning to my small hometown in Finland, a cold little town close to the sea. I have been in America for a year, first as an exchange student and now working at camp. The other girls at camp, Simone especially, are much more sophisticated than I am, much more self-assured, but I do heartily doubt, that any of them are more experienced.
Anyway, I am in the laundry room on a rainy Sunday afternoon. The campers are gone, most of them left after closing ceremony earlier this morning. After that, most of the counselors crawled back to bed… we don’t have to leave for like another 48 hours. Donna, the senior counselor, (though I think she is right about my age, 18) asked me this morning if I would help her go through some laundry, linens and things that had to be cleaned and stored for the season… So, while she was running through each of the cabins, stripping sheets off of beds, I was alone in the laundry room reading a magazine. I hear a creak as the screen door opens. Because I was expecting Donna, I never even looked up from my reading, never noticed that it wasn’t in fact Donna, who entered at all, but it was the man whose name I’ve heard my friends whisper when they think they’re alone: Master Drake.
The first thing I notice, after I notice him at all, is that he is shirtless, the second thing I notice is the significant size of the bulge cupped between his legs. Now, I’m not loud, I’m not ostentatious, but like I told you before, I come from a small.fishing.town…. in FINLAND. There’s not much to do, and I bore quite easily.
Flushing, I put down my magazine and extend my legs which had been haphazardly creased along the chair, exposing my upper thighs under the pale pink of my skirt, a remnant of this morning’s festivities.
“Relax” he says, putting his hand on my knee.
He moves to the small fridge in the corner of the laundry and takes out a coke. Returning to me, pulling up a chair, he smiles.
“You don’t have to be afraid of me” he continues. I feel the spray of his soda mist the ridge of my chest….
“…I know all of your secrets.”
And then, brushing my wavy auburn hair away from my ear, he proceeds to whisper intimate details… of my life, my liaisons…. names: Erik, Anton, Aldo, Mike, CJ…. Intimate acts he repeats back to me… details that make my cheeks blaze scarlet.
“Donna… that bitch.”
It comes to me in a flash, decorating the gym. For the dance. A leisurely conversation… girl talk… that’s what she had said.
“on the dining room table… in the park after church… in your Sunday clothes…”
“two at one time… in the alley behind the school….”
“on my desk… right here at the camp… during the bonfire.”
“in a canoe in the middle of the day” I continue… my voice is a monotone.
“on the laundry room floor” he finishes. Dropping me back, lifting my skirt, his face is soon plastered with the sticky smears of my cunt.
“with my boss…” I trail off….
“no bitch,” he says gently, lifting me off my chair and placing me on the floor,
“with your master.”
I shiver as he pulls off my thin tank top… pulls my pale pink skirt over my head… unsnaps the tiny hooks piecing together my blue bra, and wrestles me out of my lacy thong. I lift my arms over my head, extend them across the hard concrete floor. He is kissing my arm pits, my wrists, my breasts, my electric green eyes. He is scraping the round knowledge of my clitoris with the scratch of his chin. Kneading me.
“Tell me, my pet” he says, pinning my long arms to the cold floor. “tell me about the boys you have fucked. Tell me about them all. Tell me while a real master shows you how to do it properly.”
My mind races… where to start? Where to start?
“Tell me now, pet.”
I feel the tip of his cock probe the wet seat of my pussy. The words are bubbling up inside of my throat.
“Tommy… from Juniper cabin…” I begin breathlessly as I feel the first stab.
“Tell me more… slut” I hear the command, feel it too.
“On his bunk bed, about four hours ago” I moan.
“Go on. Slut”
“Aldo, back at home, in Finland. In the candy shop owned by his parents” I weep.
He is petting my hair, my long auburn tresses. Bending my body into an “L” his wrists clutch my ankles. Pushing himself in and out of the crescent of my cunt.
“Tell me about Aldo” he commands. A pierce. A jab.
My heart is racing; I struggle to recall.
“Aldo?” I whisper. “Aldo his hands were too sweaty and his penis was small.”
“That’s better pet… and Tommy?”
“Tommy… Tommy …. Tommy came very quickly.”
“How quickly, pet?”
“Under a minute” I reply.
“Go on”
“Greg.”
“Greg who loved to cuddle. Cuddle to hide the fact he’d never cum”
He is stopping me now… covering my red mouth with his hand… damming the flow of words. Before I can continue, he lifts me up. He places me on the top of the dryer… I feel the hum and vibration of the hot metal against my flesh. My nipples bend upwards as the sensation courses up my spine.
“Sit up” he commands.
I do.
“Touch yourself for me, slut.”
“Tell me what a dirty whore you really are.”
As the cycles of laundry spin around and around, the strum of the engine and the stroke of my fingers consume me. Thump. Thump. Thump. Sitting across from me now, in the chair I had vacated, he too, is pleasuring himself, moving in rhythm to my words.
And so I tell him. As he pIeases himself, as my own fingers plumb the recesses of my pussy, I tell him the stories: of sweaty nights, cool beaches, park benches and dirty garages. Of boys who came too soon, couldn’t cum at all… boys whose voices cracked in pain with every orgasm. Of older men whose hearts beat faster at the sight of my young girlish breasts, of boys whose manhood was hinged on every pitiful thrust. I tell him about two-at-a-times: mouth and cunt, filled with spicy, adolescent cum. Of girl-on-girl, with Ekatarina after school. He is leaning forward now, hinged on my words. My fingers are drenched in the sweat of my sweetness, puddling on top of the dryer lid.
Standing up, he pushes my head down, so that the front half of my body leans over his. He pushes my head down, down, down to suck the first drops of pre-cum off of his penis which throbs purple and red under the fluorescent lights.
“Tell me about your ass, pet-slut”
My lips are still stretched around the circumference of his dick.
“Who took your ass?”
“No one hath” I mumble, coming up for air. The heat of the dryer is dampening the hairs around my ears and neck, they stick to my throat in little dark orange swirls.
“No one?” he repeats, his eyes big, round with anticipation. Excitement. I feel the sudden hitch rise up in my mouth. I feel the sudden squirt of his passion squeeze down my throat. He clenches my jaw.
“Ask me”
As my mouth bubbles over with the taste of his seed, I do.
“Master Drake, will you please be the first to take my virgin ass?”
“Tomorrow.” He responds. “I will.”
For: Master Drake
Showing posts with label camp. Show all posts
Showing posts with label camp. Show all posts
Monday, September 6, 2010
Thursday, September 2, 2010
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
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
Saturday, August 21, 2010
Camp Lindenwood: Chapter 2, PowderPuff
Chapter 2: Powder Puff
by Psyche Summer
Shoshanna
Maybe it’s because I’m Taiwanese, that I’m such a fighter… that I refuse to listen to common sense. Good judgment. Reason. My country is in a constant fight against domination by the neighboring Chinese; my parents, in solidarity with the West, chose all anglicized names for their three daughters: Megan, Alyssa… and me, the youngest: Shoshanna. Shoshanna who is also in a constant fight against domination… by anyone, everyone. Who never met a word she liked better than “no.”
So maybe it was the rebel spirit in me that gritted its teeth when my good friend Kelly told me what happened to her the other night at the pool. It’s not that I was jealous exactly, but I am an attention whore, and all of her revelations about her “master Drake” left me unsettled, and frankly, quite horny.
So when Camp Lindenwood’s end-of-the-summer festivities rolled around on the hottest weekend in August, I decided it was my turn to get in on the fun. All that week I had tempted fate, wearing dresses and shorts that would drive most men to distraction. I flaunted my assets: perfectly tanned skin, round full breasts, eminently grab-able ass, long dark hair and my signature, mega-watt smile, but to no avail. Mister-Master Drake did not even say one little word to me.
I complained to Kelly who laughed and asked me why a girl, like me, who could have her pick of any bastard at the camp, wanted the one man she couldn’t have. Like that didn’t answer itself…. I tried to get in good with Donna, the head counselor for girls, who according to Kelly had Drake’s name inked above her ass, but she just gave me extra caf duty. Ugh. So when Friday night came along, I decided to pull out all the stops.
It was powder-puff football, an annual tradition in which the girls play touch football and the guys cheer on the sidelines, a little friendly gender reversal. The younger kids couldn’t play, of course, too much of an insurance risk… so they sat in the stands… Now most of the girls aren’t really serious about playing. They run up and down the field a few times, but me, well, like I said before, I am accustomed to my fair share of attention, and nothing gets a guy’s attention better than the sight of a full on female-to-female body slam.
For the event in question I wore some fine tight, white booty shorts. I cut my red football jersey to graze my navel, showing off the shiny diamond stud I always wear beneath. I chose the number 69. Subtlety has never been one of my charms. When Kelly saw me she told me I looked “like a fucking moron.” I told her as long as I looked like a “fuckable moron” I didn’t care.
Kelly and I arrive at the field a little late. Donna made us carry the equipment. The guys are already acting stupid on the sidelines, building human pyramids, and writing swear words with lipsticks on their chests. Remind me to never date boys my age, please. Ugh. Grouped in the field I see girls, lots of girls. Girls dressed in blue for campers and red for counselors. I see Simone’s flaming red hair, she is talking in one end zone to her friend Halla, from Finland. She looks super bored. She cut her jersey to fall off her shoulder though; it looks real cute in a Flashdance-y kind of way; wish I’d thought of it. Avery is off to the side trying to coax two girls into participating… she is pretty good with the kids. She’s cute too. If you like that nice girl look. I am still searching though… still looking. Finally, I see Mr. Drake sitting on the bleachers with Donna, first row, front and center. I start to walk over. Kelly groans and starts to follow me, but I shake her off.
So, I saunter up to the man, flashing what I hope is my best smile: “Hi Mr. Drake” I drawl, flashing my 69 clad chest right in his face.
The man doesn’t bat an eye-lid. Donna whispers in his ear.
“Oh, hello there Shannon,”
Ugh. “Shoshanna” I correct him.
“Right, Shoshanna…. How’s your evening?” He is so not looking at me.
Taking a deep breath, I reply, “swimmingly. My night is going swimmingly.” I arch an eyebrow.
I think Donna is stifling a giggle. Or a snort. I am mortified. But I try not to show it. Instead I toss my hair about and trot off.
Back on the field Kelly tells me I act like a fucking fruit loop and that I better not embarrass her anymore. She then waves to “Mr. Master” in the stands and THEN makes a way too big of a production of bending over to tie her shoe. Geez. I am relieved when the whistle finally blows and I can start tackling people. By half-time I have mostly forgotten my rejection, and by the end of the game: two touchdowns and one interception later, I am feeling good. Kelly and I jog off the field, there’s a sweaty sheen on my face; we’re all ready for campfires and s’mores when we are stopped by Donna. She is holding a clipboard.
“Oh no,” she says “not you two. You have equipment duty.” I groan.
“What?????” I am soooo annoyed.
To my surprise, Kelly just shrugs her shoulders and begins to circulate around the field picking up stray flags and junk.
I start to protest, but Donna, that bitch, she just turns on her heel and walks away.
“IDIOT!!!!!” I yell at her departing back.
So that is why we are the last two to hit the showers. It is why the locker room is empty when we arrive.
Alone in the shower, I let the frustrations of the day… of the week really, wash away the grit and the sweat. Reaching down, I rub my clitoris with one hand; it was inadvertent at first, but soon I get into it, letting the hot water spray my face and chest and thighs, while palming, grinding my clitoris. I feel its tiny swell blossom in my fingertips, feel my passions reignite. I gasp in time with the little spasms of pleasure my fingers elicit. Pinching my puffy nipples just the way I like. Drops of water catch in my lashes and along the ridge of my mouth. Get stuck between the twin hills of my breasts, are beaten down by the fingers that knead and caress. Just as I feel myself about to climax… just a little, I stop. I feel the beating in my breast slow down, I reach up, cup my nose with my hands and inhale. I smell the deep dusky scent of myself mingle with the perfumes of soap and shampoo, lilac and jasmine.
It is not until I am done drying my hair, reapplying my lip gloss, that I realize that Kelly and I are not alone in the locker room. Kelly, I realize, has known this for quite some time. When I round the corner to get my clothes, I see her. And her. And him. They are pretty hard to miss. I feel my nipples stiffen at the sight. Kelly. And Donna. They are leaning, side by side. Master Drake is facing them, his left hand is buried deep in Kelly’s cunt. His other hand is wrapped around Donna’s waist, his mouth buried in her tits. When Donna sees me, notices me standing hypnotized, the towel I had wrapped around my torso, long since fallen to the floor, she motions Kelly to follow her lead. Slowly, watching me the whole time, both girls drop to their knees on the hard tile floor. I see two pairs of lips part and two heads, one blonde, the other dark, bend toward Master Drake’s erection. Like clockwork, like twin pistons, they take him, first one and then the other. Donna holds Master Drake’s penis at the base and Kelly licks him up and down. Sucks him off, engorges herself on the fat of his cock. Kelly runs her hands up and down his shaft as Donna forces herself down on him as far as she can go… following Kelly’s rhythm, strands of saliva spooling from her mouth. They speak to each other… I can barely make out their words,
“Uhnh.” I hear Donna grunt. I hear the smack of suction as her lips wrap around his cock. I see the involuntary reflex of her jugular, the irregular rhythm as he pushes past her tongue and into her throat. I don’t think she can breathe.
“Tell me what you want, pet.” I hear him say between gritted teeth.
“Furda… furda…” I hear her moan…
“How do you ask, pet?”
“Pllleeaattthhhhh Mather Drake… pleatheee” I see the tears well in her eyes. See Kelly watching intently. Donna is reaching for her hand. She is like a clumsy drunk. But she grips Kelly’s hand and pulls her in so that her fingers are running along the rim of Master Drake’s ass. Kelly does not need any further guidance.
“Oooh Master Drake” she coos. “Do you like it like this? Does this feel good?” she purrs, inserting just one finger into the cusp of his ass hole. She begins to bring a second finger, closer… closer, but alert now, Donna shoves her finger away, withdrawing from Master Drake’s mouth.
“no” she says breathlessly, “not like that…” She beckons to me. Finally.
I feel like time has been standing still. I forgot all about me honestly. I walk up to the threesome. Master Drake does not address me at all. He wags his cock in front of my face and I bend down in Donna’s place.
“Just don’t pull back” she instructs me.
Master Drake places his hands firmly on each of my temples, and pushes his penis, still drenched in the honey of Donna’s saliva, into the hot recesses of my mouth. I tumble back on my knees from the force, but he lifts me back up. He is relentless. I am gagging almost immediately. Faces and figures begin to blur… I feel like I have to pull back, I am fighting him, but then he pushes the weight of his entire body, flush against his face. My nose is buried in the curls of his pubic hair.
“Is this what you wanted, bitch?” I hear him ask.
“Ask me for some more.”
My words are garbled, unintelligible. All I can do is nod, my head shaking up and down.
“I can’t hear you, pet” my nose is pushed flat against his body.
I am retching, my eyes bulge, my throat collapses upon itself.
“ehhffghh” is all I can mutter. All I can muster in response.
From behind him, Donna has shown Kelly how to enter his ass, with just one finger, how to caress its rim with the tip of the tongue. How to please him best. They are taking turns, lapping milk like kittens, probing and tonguing while I am pinned against his dick. And over and over again they are thanking him. Thanking him for his kindness, for his big cock and his hard sex. They run their hands along his torso and his back. They sigh his name, with breathless voices… they kiss his ass and cradle his sack against their lips.
“Say my name pet,” he says to me. A challenge.
“efffa ache.” I whisper. choke. gag.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that,” with a hand in my hair, a tug to my scalp.
“say it again. Pet.”
I am hurting, my throat is sore, my cheeks are stained with sweet saline tears.
“affa jake.”
He laughs at my effort.
Now he is pinching the brown puffs of my nipples. Bending down to see me wince in pain. I can hardly breathe at all. My hands scrape the linoleum, trying to keep from falling… falling… He is savage with me. I pray that he will cum…. I pray that he will like me... I pray that he will cum.
He does not.
When I have sated him though, he withdraws. He kisses Donna and Kelly on the tops of their heads. Me he ignores. Instead he whispers desires in Donna’s ears. Obediently she disappears and returns in mere minutes, carrying a large exercise mat which she spreads of the floor for her master’s comfort. With her head resting in Donna’s naked lap, I watch my friend Kelly bend down, reach back and spread the cheeks of her own ass. I watch Master Drake take her there, with the same energy he had taken me. Kelly’s long, taut body struggles with each thrust, she is gripping Donna’s knees with white knuckles. But she is in ecstasy. When Donna reaches her arm down and begins to massage Kelly’s clitoris, I am momentarily afraid that Kelly is going to combust.
I sit next to them, alone on the tiled floor, the acolyte. In a huddle, I touch myself, feel my dripping loins, rue that I have not yet been touched. Kelly’s breathing is faster now; she is looping her tongue, her teeth around Donna’s labia, touching her with extended fingers, returning each of Donna’s caresses. Master Drake is rubbing his hands hard through Kelly’s long hair, pushing her head against Donna’s, watching their tresses intermingle. He is telling Kelly to bite, bite harder. Kelly is trembling; Donna is wiggling, writhing under the grip of Kelly’s teeth. She is wailing, begging her to stop, begging her for more. She fondles her own nipples, groping her pale breasts. Master Drake withdraws from Kelly, proffering his sloppy sex to Donna who licks him greedily, thanking him between great, slurpy gulps. When he enters her again, I can feel his intensity. Kelly’s body is shaking. She is shouting curses into the air. They echo off the lockers… fill my ears with wonder. I am moaning myself. Gripping my clitoris until it is raw with desire. I cum when he cums, filling Kelly’s ass with his cream. It is then that he summons me again. Donna and me.
“For you.”
We lick his cum off of Kelly’s firm ass. Sucking it off her thighs… Donna is thanking him, kissing his slowly deflating cock.
“Thank you master, thank yooouuu.”
I am sitting on the floor, wiping cum of my cheeks. I have been humbled. But I am still hungry. As he gets up to leave, to return to his duties in front of the camp fire, to sing the songs, do the head counts, conduct the weekly staff meeting, he looks at me for the first time. Gesturing for me to bend over, he runs his finger over the round curve of my bottom, letting fingers linger on my own virgin hole.
“next time.” He says. “next time."
For Master Drake
by Psyche Summer
Shoshanna
Maybe it’s because I’m Taiwanese, that I’m such a fighter… that I refuse to listen to common sense. Good judgment. Reason. My country is in a constant fight against domination by the neighboring Chinese; my parents, in solidarity with the West, chose all anglicized names for their three daughters: Megan, Alyssa… and me, the youngest: Shoshanna. Shoshanna who is also in a constant fight against domination… by anyone, everyone. Who never met a word she liked better than “no.”
So maybe it was the rebel spirit in me that gritted its teeth when my good friend Kelly told me what happened to her the other night at the pool. It’s not that I was jealous exactly, but I am an attention whore, and all of her revelations about her “master Drake” left me unsettled, and frankly, quite horny.
So when Camp Lindenwood’s end-of-the-summer festivities rolled around on the hottest weekend in August, I decided it was my turn to get in on the fun. All that week I had tempted fate, wearing dresses and shorts that would drive most men to distraction. I flaunted my assets: perfectly tanned skin, round full breasts, eminently grab-able ass, long dark hair and my signature, mega-watt smile, but to no avail. Mister-Master Drake did not even say one little word to me.
I complained to Kelly who laughed and asked me why a girl, like me, who could have her pick of any bastard at the camp, wanted the one man she couldn’t have. Like that didn’t answer itself…. I tried to get in good with Donna, the head counselor for girls, who according to Kelly had Drake’s name inked above her ass, but she just gave me extra caf duty. Ugh. So when Friday night came along, I decided to pull out all the stops.
It was powder-puff football, an annual tradition in which the girls play touch football and the guys cheer on the sidelines, a little friendly gender reversal. The younger kids couldn’t play, of course, too much of an insurance risk… so they sat in the stands… Now most of the girls aren’t really serious about playing. They run up and down the field a few times, but me, well, like I said before, I am accustomed to my fair share of attention, and nothing gets a guy’s attention better than the sight of a full on female-to-female body slam.
For the event in question I wore some fine tight, white booty shorts. I cut my red football jersey to graze my navel, showing off the shiny diamond stud I always wear beneath. I chose the number 69. Subtlety has never been one of my charms. When Kelly saw me she told me I looked “like a fucking moron.” I told her as long as I looked like a “fuckable moron” I didn’t care.
Kelly and I arrive at the field a little late. Donna made us carry the equipment. The guys are already acting stupid on the sidelines, building human pyramids, and writing swear words with lipsticks on their chests. Remind me to never date boys my age, please. Ugh. Grouped in the field I see girls, lots of girls. Girls dressed in blue for campers and red for counselors. I see Simone’s flaming red hair, she is talking in one end zone to her friend Halla, from Finland. She looks super bored. She cut her jersey to fall off her shoulder though; it looks real cute in a Flashdance-y kind of way; wish I’d thought of it. Avery is off to the side trying to coax two girls into participating… she is pretty good with the kids. She’s cute too. If you like that nice girl look. I am still searching though… still looking. Finally, I see Mr. Drake sitting on the bleachers with Donna, first row, front and center. I start to walk over. Kelly groans and starts to follow me, but I shake her off.
So, I saunter up to the man, flashing what I hope is my best smile: “Hi Mr. Drake” I drawl, flashing my 69 clad chest right in his face.
The man doesn’t bat an eye-lid. Donna whispers in his ear.
“Oh, hello there Shannon,”
Ugh. “Shoshanna” I correct him.
“Right, Shoshanna…. How’s your evening?” He is so not looking at me.
Taking a deep breath, I reply, “swimmingly. My night is going swimmingly.” I arch an eyebrow.
I think Donna is stifling a giggle. Or a snort. I am mortified. But I try not to show it. Instead I toss my hair about and trot off.
Back on the field Kelly tells me I act like a fucking fruit loop and that I better not embarrass her anymore. She then waves to “Mr. Master” in the stands and THEN makes a way too big of a production of bending over to tie her shoe. Geez. I am relieved when the whistle finally blows and I can start tackling people. By half-time I have mostly forgotten my rejection, and by the end of the game: two touchdowns and one interception later, I am feeling good. Kelly and I jog off the field, there’s a sweaty sheen on my face; we’re all ready for campfires and s’mores when we are stopped by Donna. She is holding a clipboard.
“Oh no,” she says “not you two. You have equipment duty.” I groan.
“What?????” I am soooo annoyed.
To my surprise, Kelly just shrugs her shoulders and begins to circulate around the field picking up stray flags and junk.
I start to protest, but Donna, that bitch, she just turns on her heel and walks away.
“IDIOT!!!!!” I yell at her departing back.
So that is why we are the last two to hit the showers. It is why the locker room is empty when we arrive.
Alone in the shower, I let the frustrations of the day… of the week really, wash away the grit and the sweat. Reaching down, I rub my clitoris with one hand; it was inadvertent at first, but soon I get into it, letting the hot water spray my face and chest and thighs, while palming, grinding my clitoris. I feel its tiny swell blossom in my fingertips, feel my passions reignite. I gasp in time with the little spasms of pleasure my fingers elicit. Pinching my puffy nipples just the way I like. Drops of water catch in my lashes and along the ridge of my mouth. Get stuck between the twin hills of my breasts, are beaten down by the fingers that knead and caress. Just as I feel myself about to climax… just a little, I stop. I feel the beating in my breast slow down, I reach up, cup my nose with my hands and inhale. I smell the deep dusky scent of myself mingle with the perfumes of soap and shampoo, lilac and jasmine.
It is not until I am done drying my hair, reapplying my lip gloss, that I realize that Kelly and I are not alone in the locker room. Kelly, I realize, has known this for quite some time. When I round the corner to get my clothes, I see her. And her. And him. They are pretty hard to miss. I feel my nipples stiffen at the sight. Kelly. And Donna. They are leaning, side by side. Master Drake is facing them, his left hand is buried deep in Kelly’s cunt. His other hand is wrapped around Donna’s waist, his mouth buried in her tits. When Donna sees me, notices me standing hypnotized, the towel I had wrapped around my torso, long since fallen to the floor, she motions Kelly to follow her lead. Slowly, watching me the whole time, both girls drop to their knees on the hard tile floor. I see two pairs of lips part and two heads, one blonde, the other dark, bend toward Master Drake’s erection. Like clockwork, like twin pistons, they take him, first one and then the other. Donna holds Master Drake’s penis at the base and Kelly licks him up and down. Sucks him off, engorges herself on the fat of his cock. Kelly runs her hands up and down his shaft as Donna forces herself down on him as far as she can go… following Kelly’s rhythm, strands of saliva spooling from her mouth. They speak to each other… I can barely make out their words,
“Uhnh.” I hear Donna grunt. I hear the smack of suction as her lips wrap around his cock. I see the involuntary reflex of her jugular, the irregular rhythm as he pushes past her tongue and into her throat. I don’t think she can breathe.
“Tell me what you want, pet.” I hear him say between gritted teeth.
“Furda… furda…” I hear her moan…
“How do you ask, pet?”
“Pllleeaattthhhhh Mather Drake… pleatheee” I see the tears well in her eyes. See Kelly watching intently. Donna is reaching for her hand. She is like a clumsy drunk. But she grips Kelly’s hand and pulls her in so that her fingers are running along the rim of Master Drake’s ass. Kelly does not need any further guidance.
“Oooh Master Drake” she coos. “Do you like it like this? Does this feel good?” she purrs, inserting just one finger into the cusp of his ass hole. She begins to bring a second finger, closer… closer, but alert now, Donna shoves her finger away, withdrawing from Master Drake’s mouth.
“no” she says breathlessly, “not like that…” She beckons to me. Finally.
I feel like time has been standing still. I forgot all about me honestly. I walk up to the threesome. Master Drake does not address me at all. He wags his cock in front of my face and I bend down in Donna’s place.
“Just don’t pull back” she instructs me.
Master Drake places his hands firmly on each of my temples, and pushes his penis, still drenched in the honey of Donna’s saliva, into the hot recesses of my mouth. I tumble back on my knees from the force, but he lifts me back up. He is relentless. I am gagging almost immediately. Faces and figures begin to blur… I feel like I have to pull back, I am fighting him, but then he pushes the weight of his entire body, flush against his face. My nose is buried in the curls of his pubic hair.
“Is this what you wanted, bitch?” I hear him ask.
“Ask me for some more.”
My words are garbled, unintelligible. All I can do is nod, my head shaking up and down.
“I can’t hear you, pet” my nose is pushed flat against his body.
I am retching, my eyes bulge, my throat collapses upon itself.
“ehhffghh” is all I can mutter. All I can muster in response.
From behind him, Donna has shown Kelly how to enter his ass, with just one finger, how to caress its rim with the tip of the tongue. How to please him best. They are taking turns, lapping milk like kittens, probing and tonguing while I am pinned against his dick. And over and over again they are thanking him. Thanking him for his kindness, for his big cock and his hard sex. They run their hands along his torso and his back. They sigh his name, with breathless voices… they kiss his ass and cradle his sack against their lips.
“Say my name pet,” he says to me. A challenge.
“efffa ache.” I whisper. choke. gag.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that,” with a hand in my hair, a tug to my scalp.
“say it again. Pet.”
I am hurting, my throat is sore, my cheeks are stained with sweet saline tears.
“affa jake.”
He laughs at my effort.
Now he is pinching the brown puffs of my nipples. Bending down to see me wince in pain. I can hardly breathe at all. My hands scrape the linoleum, trying to keep from falling… falling… He is savage with me. I pray that he will cum…. I pray that he will like me... I pray that he will cum.
He does not.
When I have sated him though, he withdraws. He kisses Donna and Kelly on the tops of their heads. Me he ignores. Instead he whispers desires in Donna’s ears. Obediently she disappears and returns in mere minutes, carrying a large exercise mat which she spreads of the floor for her master’s comfort. With her head resting in Donna’s naked lap, I watch my friend Kelly bend down, reach back and spread the cheeks of her own ass. I watch Master Drake take her there, with the same energy he had taken me. Kelly’s long, taut body struggles with each thrust, she is gripping Donna’s knees with white knuckles. But she is in ecstasy. When Donna reaches her arm down and begins to massage Kelly’s clitoris, I am momentarily afraid that Kelly is going to combust.
I sit next to them, alone on the tiled floor, the acolyte. In a huddle, I touch myself, feel my dripping loins, rue that I have not yet been touched. Kelly’s breathing is faster now; she is looping her tongue, her teeth around Donna’s labia, touching her with extended fingers, returning each of Donna’s caresses. Master Drake is rubbing his hands hard through Kelly’s long hair, pushing her head against Donna’s, watching their tresses intermingle. He is telling Kelly to bite, bite harder. Kelly is trembling; Donna is wiggling, writhing under the grip of Kelly’s teeth. She is wailing, begging her to stop, begging her for more. She fondles her own nipples, groping her pale breasts. Master Drake withdraws from Kelly, proffering his sloppy sex to Donna who licks him greedily, thanking him between great, slurpy gulps. When he enters her again, I can feel his intensity. Kelly’s body is shaking. She is shouting curses into the air. They echo off the lockers… fill my ears with wonder. I am moaning myself. Gripping my clitoris until it is raw with desire. I cum when he cums, filling Kelly’s ass with his cream. It is then that he summons me again. Donna and me.
“For you.”
We lick his cum off of Kelly’s firm ass. Sucking it off her thighs… Donna is thanking him, kissing his slowly deflating cock.
“Thank you master, thank yooouuu.”
I am sitting on the floor, wiping cum of my cheeks. I have been humbled. But I am still hungry. As he gets up to leave, to return to his duties in front of the camp fire, to sing the songs, do the head counts, conduct the weekly staff meeting, he looks at me for the first time. Gesturing for me to bend over, he runs his finger over the round curve of my bottom, letting fingers linger on my own virgin hole.
“next time.” He says. “next time."
For Master Drake
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Camp Lindenwood: Intro and Ch. 1 of 6. Swim Club
The Lindenwood Series
By Psyche Summer
Introduction
Alone in Master Drake’s cottage under the hemlock trees, I am being punished. Down on my knees, in just my cotton panties, I am waiting. I have been poised for the cock that hasn’t come for at least twenty minutes. Master Drake fully clothed… from the waist up…. is exasperated.
“You’re late, pet” he repeats for what must be the tenth time in the past hour. He holds his
rock hard cock just inches from my face; I can smell his strong familiar scent warming me,
feel the familiar electricity that rattles my gut, sets my loins on fire.
“I’m sorry, master…” I murmur… the college orientation session I had been attending had run over; my mother had requested my help at the last minute. I had been late: late by one day, three hours and twenty-seven minutes.
Withdrawing from me again, Master Drake instead runs his hand down the line of my jaw. Whispers my name. Tells me how I will make it up to him.
Five names he whispers, touching me on my right shoulder with his extended dick. Five girls. I will bring to him, shape them, teach them, as he has taught me. He explains, resting his penis on my other side. He has chosen them already… and as he finally pushes his way deep into my mouth, forcing me to the ground, he whispers each of their names.
Kelly. Simone. Shoshanna. Halla….. and Avery.
Chapter 1: Swim Club
Kelly
“Mooother Fuck!” I hiss as my knee hits the pebbles that line the fucking pathway leading up to the mother-fucking pool. I feel fire as the stones shred skin; my hands fly up in front of me to break the fall. It does no good. When I was younger, my brothers used to call me “Daddy Long-legs,” I’m tall and all leg, and now one of them was a bloody, fucking, mess. Literally.
I sat on my ass and sucked the torn fibers of skin clinging to my knee. “Damn that little ankle-biter, Missy Morgan and her damn cell phone, and damn that Donna, fucking bitch, for sending me to go fetch it at 3 fucking am.” She should’ve sent Simone, I raged to myself. Simone and Missy painting their toe-nails perched on chaise lounges… Simone with her fucking French nose stuck high in the fucking air.
I sweep my long blonde hair out of my face and struggle to my feet. I brush gravel off my ass and trudge along to the top of the hill. When I get up to the pool you can bet that I am bloody shocked to find the gate open and to hear voices coming from inside… and will you believe, when I get up close, there in the nuddy, in the fucking pool, is Mister Drake, the fucking head of the camp. And there, beside him, dippin’ her toes, is that bitch. Donna.
Mister Drake is just swimming around, laughing at something Donna said, doesn’t cross his mind that he is stark naked. She’s just sittin’ there like a fuckin’ bludger, waving her fingers in the water, letting it splash up on her little white silk pajama top…
He stops when I enter, swims up to the step.
“hi there, Kelly, right?” he says, all formal and shit.
I can’t help looking at his donger, it’s huge, even there in the water.
“why don’t you join me…?” he continues, all natural.
I look over at Donna; she’s reclining along the side of the pool, cool as a cat. She waves that damn pink cell phone in my general direction….
“found it over near the chairs” she says all innocent.
Now, I’ve worked at camps in my life, and I’ve seen… and participated in my fair share of “goings on,” but I’ll admit, I’m a little rattled. I hate that feeling. And all the time, Mr. Drake, he’s just swimming back and forth, every now and again, he looks up at me with his blue eyes… all patient and shit.
Part of me wants to wheel around right there and hitch it back to my cabin, to my bed. Go back to messin’ with boys who keep their dongers in their togs, but part of me is… well let’s just say I get a little hot, when I see Donna slip into the water and wrap her body around Mr. Drake. She didn’t even take off her fucking pajama shirt, so after he tongues her mouth and swims her back to the wall, I can see the shape of her tits underneath the wet fabric. Now, Donna, she’s like 5’2. Me, I’m almost 5’9; in my head, for a second, I imagine me, all of me, wrapped around that man, slipping over his body… at 3 am. In the swimming pool. Now one thing you should know about me, I don’t keep thoughts in my head too long. I either do them, or don’t do them.
So, in just about a minute I am slipping off my flip flops and sliding into that pool, myself. The cool water and the night air, it knocks the breath out of me for a minute, and the chemicals in the water sting my knee. I feel the fabric of my sky blue cami and knickers weighed down with water. They’re sticking to me, driving me fucking insane. Mister Drake comes gliding toward me in the water. He grabs me around the waist and turns me away from him…. I can feel his bulge against my ass, his hands reaching up my knickers. Soon they are off, floating away in the water.
He whistles, a low summons, and in seconds Donna is at his side, peeling away my wet camisole, cupping round firm breasts in naked hands. He is behind me. I can’t see him much, but I feel him. Feel him rub against me, feel the drag and suck of the water as he enters me. The walls of my pussy close up around him. I moan. My legs float out from under me. He shakes the bitch loose and grabs each of my tits in his hands, massaging me against his dick. I feel his damp skin, chilly against my naked back and it sends shocks of passion through my spine….
“Oh god, oh god” I start to moan as my ass bumps against the top of his thighs.
“harder… harder” I pant.
My fucking stomach feels like it’s gonna explode… like there’s a snake in my belly doing somersaults.
I can feel his hands gripping the bottom of my thighs, tearing, pulling me in… harder and harder. His mouth is on my neck. Biting at my skin. It’s like an animal. I feel the heat rising in me…
“Fuck.” I moan, and then shout “Fuucckkkkk”
“I’m not done with you… not yet” he grins.
I am so loud I am sure the whole camp can hear.
“Fuuucckkkkkk meeee”
I wrap my hands around his neck, around his head. I don’t know why. I can’t stop him. He is tapping the edge of my cervix with his fucking hot head. His hands are rubbing the inside of my thighs. He is leaving marks, dark purple marks along the back of my neck. He is like ALL the way inside me. I am panting in the water… And before I know it I am cumming… and cumming and cumming….
Donna
As Master Drake commanded, I am taking notes, so I can personally attest that Kelly had exactly five orgasms that night in the pool. Master Drake, on the other hand, did not cum at all. At least not right then. And after an interval, in which Kelly’s feet finally came to rest, weak-kneed on the floor of the pool, I was once again summoned. I dart from my post at the side of the pool, bringing a nice soft white towel for my master. Leaning over him, I wrap the towel around his body, wipe the drops off every inch. Kiss his cock. Make sure he is satisfied. Once he is dried, I spread a new one down on the cool, dewy grass. On this one, I sit Kelly. She is still wet, and the drops of sweat and beads of water glisten, silvery in the moonlight. Under the dim lights of the lamps that surround the pool’s perimeter I can make out tattoos scattered across her body. A freckling of stars along her side… a kiwi bird, (she told me it was a kiwi later, I didn’t know it that night) on her wrist, and on the small of her back, a biplane, a reminder, she told me later, of her first lover. I stretch her out, face down on the towel. I know she is cold, I can feel the goose bumps rise on her arms… Master Drake, sitting next to me on a chaise chair, is watching me work.
I myself have been naked for some time, ever since I entered the pool. Kelly though, has not noticed my own tattoos, the bold black number that scars my front or the tag of ownership that guards my backside. But I am sure, however, that she can feel the cold, hard metal of the twin hoops that puncture my nipples, as I bend down over her back and brush the tips of my breasts against her spine. Her long, blonde hair is wet and coils around her back and arms. Spreading it to one side, I bend closer and begin to kiss each vertebra, one by one. My hand reaches down tracing the contours of her thighs. She is still breathing heavily, isn’t thinking straight. It is easy for me to part her legs and to begin to run my fore-finger along the ridge of her asshole. She is still unaware, grateful to be recumbent…. I rest my cheek against the flat edge of her muscled ass and begin to kiss her there… gently. In the shadows, I see that Master Drake is pleased.
Slowly, with my fingers, I part the cheeks of Kelly’s ass, with my tongue, I slide over the entrance. She has noticed now and her muscles have stiffened. I see her toes curl as my tongue lingers on its target. My tongue, just entering the passageway, providing the lubricant for the finger that follows… Kelly winces as I enter… did she just call me a “bitch?” I tell her to relax, run my free hand down the stretch of her back, and push… just a little deeper. I push past the first ring of muscles, clenched and armed against my entry, and just a little further until I hear her exhale… just a bit. I feel her muscles contract against me, rebel against my presence, but below, I feel her pussy moisten in anticipation. I pull out slowly. I look at my master sweetly, and slowly, intentionally put my finger to my mouth, wrapping my tongue along its sticky length. I bend down and whisper to Kelly to rise up on all fours. She does what I say.
Kelly
It’s so fucking quiet. All I can hear are the damn crickets and bities chirpin’ in the night. I was cold, but now I am hot. I am fucking sweating in fact, on all fours, waiting. Out of the corner of my eye I see Donna rise up and kneel beside me. She is waiting too. Neither of us waits too long. After she has settled down on her knees, Mr. Drake gets up; I see his feet move behind me. He’s checking me out. I follow his feet with my eyes. Now he is in front of me…
“Kelly,” he says my name all serious now, not like earlier in the pool. I can feel his warm breath on my face.
“Mr. Drake?” I know it was a dumb thing to say; we’d just fucked like rabbits…
“Not now, not Mr. Drake, Kelly, not anymore” he responds…
“…Master Drake.”
Well that was unexpected.
He tells me that I am his pet, that now he is my only master, that I cannot hesitate to do his bidding. He tells me that I am not to ask questions; that I am not to fall for him…. I start to stop hearing him…. just waiting for his touch. At last he asks “Do you understand? Do you accept these terms, pet?”
I nod. Yes.
Soon then, he is upon me. His muscles flexed, his hands pressed down on my hips like a pommel horse, his thumbs wrapped around the tight of my ass. When he pushes into me at last, it feels like I am on fire. I clench my eyes shut. My torn up knee presses into the ground as he drills into me. I can feel the walls of my uninitiated ass closing in around him, hear his grunts of pleasure. Feel his rhythm, too quick for my comfort at first, as he takes me again and again. I let out a fierce yelp. Pain mingled with pleasure. Underneath, he is groping my clit, stroking it with wild fingers, entering my pussy, three fingers at a time.
“Uuuufff” I grunt as the strength of his thrusts forces my face to the ground. “uuuuuuffffff” my muffled screams are trapped inside the towel. I am sobbing. It hurts. It feels so good. With his other hand he is grabbing my hair, pulling my face upward so that my screams, my grunts and moans of satisfaction, can all be heard.
“Fill me, fill me” It’s all I want.
In minutes, hours, days, who knows? He has released me, let go my hair, my cunt, my ass. I lift my head and see that Donna is bent over him now. His donger is in her mouth. She is savoring it like candy: licking it, sucking it, rolling around in it. She is stretching her lips wide for him, lowering her fucking mouth to his crotch… I see her eyes begin to tear as her throat contracts… He takes it out, rubs it against her nose and eyes, teases her with it, makes her beg for more.
“Please,” I hear her say. “feed me more Master.”
He gives her what she wants. Again and again.
The stars are fading from the sky when it’s my turn again. When Master Drake bends me over for the second time, he means business. He is so hard…. It feels so good. This time my muscles don’t resist him for long. And as they relax around him, I feel like my whole world is opening up inside of me. When he finally spills his seed, lets it trickle down the inside of my legs, lets me thank him with feeble voice, feeds it from fingers to his other pet who still sits patiently by his side, I am ready, ready to call him Master.
For Master Drake
By Psyche Summer
Introduction
Alone in Master Drake’s cottage under the hemlock trees, I am being punished. Down on my knees, in just my cotton panties, I am waiting. I have been poised for the cock that hasn’t come for at least twenty minutes. Master Drake fully clothed… from the waist up…. is exasperated.
“You’re late, pet” he repeats for what must be the tenth time in the past hour. He holds his
rock hard cock just inches from my face; I can smell his strong familiar scent warming me,
feel the familiar electricity that rattles my gut, sets my loins on fire.
“I’m sorry, master…” I murmur… the college orientation session I had been attending had run over; my mother had requested my help at the last minute. I had been late: late by one day, three hours and twenty-seven minutes.
Withdrawing from me again, Master Drake instead runs his hand down the line of my jaw. Whispers my name. Tells me how I will make it up to him.
Five names he whispers, touching me on my right shoulder with his extended dick. Five girls. I will bring to him, shape them, teach them, as he has taught me. He explains, resting his penis on my other side. He has chosen them already… and as he finally pushes his way deep into my mouth, forcing me to the ground, he whispers each of their names.
Kelly. Simone. Shoshanna. Halla….. and Avery.
Chapter 1: Swim Club
Kelly
“Mooother Fuck!” I hiss as my knee hits the pebbles that line the fucking pathway leading up to the mother-fucking pool. I feel fire as the stones shred skin; my hands fly up in front of me to break the fall. It does no good. When I was younger, my brothers used to call me “Daddy Long-legs,” I’m tall and all leg, and now one of them was a bloody, fucking, mess. Literally.
I sat on my ass and sucked the torn fibers of skin clinging to my knee. “Damn that little ankle-biter, Missy Morgan and her damn cell phone, and damn that Donna, fucking bitch, for sending me to go fetch it at 3 fucking am.” She should’ve sent Simone, I raged to myself. Simone and Missy painting their toe-nails perched on chaise lounges… Simone with her fucking French nose stuck high in the fucking air.
I sweep my long blonde hair out of my face and struggle to my feet. I brush gravel off my ass and trudge along to the top of the hill. When I get up to the pool you can bet that I am bloody shocked to find the gate open and to hear voices coming from inside… and will you believe, when I get up close, there in the nuddy, in the fucking pool, is Mister Drake, the fucking head of the camp. And there, beside him, dippin’ her toes, is that bitch. Donna.
Mister Drake is just swimming around, laughing at something Donna said, doesn’t cross his mind that he is stark naked. She’s just sittin’ there like a fuckin’ bludger, waving her fingers in the water, letting it splash up on her little white silk pajama top…
He stops when I enter, swims up to the step.
“hi there, Kelly, right?” he says, all formal and shit.
I can’t help looking at his donger, it’s huge, even there in the water.
“why don’t you join me…?” he continues, all natural.
I look over at Donna; she’s reclining along the side of the pool, cool as a cat. She waves that damn pink cell phone in my general direction….
“found it over near the chairs” she says all innocent.
Now, I’ve worked at camps in my life, and I’ve seen… and participated in my fair share of “goings on,” but I’ll admit, I’m a little rattled. I hate that feeling. And all the time, Mr. Drake, he’s just swimming back and forth, every now and again, he looks up at me with his blue eyes… all patient and shit.
Part of me wants to wheel around right there and hitch it back to my cabin, to my bed. Go back to messin’ with boys who keep their dongers in their togs, but part of me is… well let’s just say I get a little hot, when I see Donna slip into the water and wrap her body around Mr. Drake. She didn’t even take off her fucking pajama shirt, so after he tongues her mouth and swims her back to the wall, I can see the shape of her tits underneath the wet fabric. Now, Donna, she’s like 5’2. Me, I’m almost 5’9; in my head, for a second, I imagine me, all of me, wrapped around that man, slipping over his body… at 3 am. In the swimming pool. Now one thing you should know about me, I don’t keep thoughts in my head too long. I either do them, or don’t do them.
So, in just about a minute I am slipping off my flip flops and sliding into that pool, myself. The cool water and the night air, it knocks the breath out of me for a minute, and the chemicals in the water sting my knee. I feel the fabric of my sky blue cami and knickers weighed down with water. They’re sticking to me, driving me fucking insane. Mister Drake comes gliding toward me in the water. He grabs me around the waist and turns me away from him…. I can feel his bulge against my ass, his hands reaching up my knickers. Soon they are off, floating away in the water.
He whistles, a low summons, and in seconds Donna is at his side, peeling away my wet camisole, cupping round firm breasts in naked hands. He is behind me. I can’t see him much, but I feel him. Feel him rub against me, feel the drag and suck of the water as he enters me. The walls of my pussy close up around him. I moan. My legs float out from under me. He shakes the bitch loose and grabs each of my tits in his hands, massaging me against his dick. I feel his damp skin, chilly against my naked back and it sends shocks of passion through my spine….
“Oh god, oh god” I start to moan as my ass bumps against the top of his thighs.
“harder… harder” I pant.
My fucking stomach feels like it’s gonna explode… like there’s a snake in my belly doing somersaults.
I can feel his hands gripping the bottom of my thighs, tearing, pulling me in… harder and harder. His mouth is on my neck. Biting at my skin. It’s like an animal. I feel the heat rising in me…
“Fuck.” I moan, and then shout “Fuucckkkkk”
“I’m not done with you… not yet” he grins.
I am so loud I am sure the whole camp can hear.
“Fuuucckkkkkk meeee”
I wrap my hands around his neck, around his head. I don’t know why. I can’t stop him. He is tapping the edge of my cervix with his fucking hot head. His hands are rubbing the inside of my thighs. He is leaving marks, dark purple marks along the back of my neck. He is like ALL the way inside me. I am panting in the water… And before I know it I am cumming… and cumming and cumming….
Donna
As Master Drake commanded, I am taking notes, so I can personally attest that Kelly had exactly five orgasms that night in the pool. Master Drake, on the other hand, did not cum at all. At least not right then. And after an interval, in which Kelly’s feet finally came to rest, weak-kneed on the floor of the pool, I was once again summoned. I dart from my post at the side of the pool, bringing a nice soft white towel for my master. Leaning over him, I wrap the towel around his body, wipe the drops off every inch. Kiss his cock. Make sure he is satisfied. Once he is dried, I spread a new one down on the cool, dewy grass. On this one, I sit Kelly. She is still wet, and the drops of sweat and beads of water glisten, silvery in the moonlight. Under the dim lights of the lamps that surround the pool’s perimeter I can make out tattoos scattered across her body. A freckling of stars along her side… a kiwi bird, (she told me it was a kiwi later, I didn’t know it that night) on her wrist, and on the small of her back, a biplane, a reminder, she told me later, of her first lover. I stretch her out, face down on the towel. I know she is cold, I can feel the goose bumps rise on her arms… Master Drake, sitting next to me on a chaise chair, is watching me work.
I myself have been naked for some time, ever since I entered the pool. Kelly though, has not noticed my own tattoos, the bold black number that scars my front or the tag of ownership that guards my backside. But I am sure, however, that she can feel the cold, hard metal of the twin hoops that puncture my nipples, as I bend down over her back and brush the tips of my breasts against her spine. Her long, blonde hair is wet and coils around her back and arms. Spreading it to one side, I bend closer and begin to kiss each vertebra, one by one. My hand reaches down tracing the contours of her thighs. She is still breathing heavily, isn’t thinking straight. It is easy for me to part her legs and to begin to run my fore-finger along the ridge of her asshole. She is still unaware, grateful to be recumbent…. I rest my cheek against the flat edge of her muscled ass and begin to kiss her there… gently. In the shadows, I see that Master Drake is pleased.
Slowly, with my fingers, I part the cheeks of Kelly’s ass, with my tongue, I slide over the entrance. She has noticed now and her muscles have stiffened. I see her toes curl as my tongue lingers on its target. My tongue, just entering the passageway, providing the lubricant for the finger that follows… Kelly winces as I enter… did she just call me a “bitch?” I tell her to relax, run my free hand down the stretch of her back, and push… just a little deeper. I push past the first ring of muscles, clenched and armed against my entry, and just a little further until I hear her exhale… just a bit. I feel her muscles contract against me, rebel against my presence, but below, I feel her pussy moisten in anticipation. I pull out slowly. I look at my master sweetly, and slowly, intentionally put my finger to my mouth, wrapping my tongue along its sticky length. I bend down and whisper to Kelly to rise up on all fours. She does what I say.
Kelly
It’s so fucking quiet. All I can hear are the damn crickets and bities chirpin’ in the night. I was cold, but now I am hot. I am fucking sweating in fact, on all fours, waiting. Out of the corner of my eye I see Donna rise up and kneel beside me. She is waiting too. Neither of us waits too long. After she has settled down on her knees, Mr. Drake gets up; I see his feet move behind me. He’s checking me out. I follow his feet with my eyes. Now he is in front of me…
“Kelly,” he says my name all serious now, not like earlier in the pool. I can feel his warm breath on my face.
“Mr. Drake?” I know it was a dumb thing to say; we’d just fucked like rabbits…
“Not now, not Mr. Drake, Kelly, not anymore” he responds…
“…Master Drake.”
Well that was unexpected.
He tells me that I am his pet, that now he is my only master, that I cannot hesitate to do his bidding. He tells me that I am not to ask questions; that I am not to fall for him…. I start to stop hearing him…. just waiting for his touch. At last he asks “Do you understand? Do you accept these terms, pet?”
I nod. Yes.
Soon then, he is upon me. His muscles flexed, his hands pressed down on my hips like a pommel horse, his thumbs wrapped around the tight of my ass. When he pushes into me at last, it feels like I am on fire. I clench my eyes shut. My torn up knee presses into the ground as he drills into me. I can feel the walls of my uninitiated ass closing in around him, hear his grunts of pleasure. Feel his rhythm, too quick for my comfort at first, as he takes me again and again. I let out a fierce yelp. Pain mingled with pleasure. Underneath, he is groping my clit, stroking it with wild fingers, entering my pussy, three fingers at a time.
“Uuuufff” I grunt as the strength of his thrusts forces my face to the ground. “uuuuuuffffff” my muffled screams are trapped inside the towel. I am sobbing. It hurts. It feels so good. With his other hand he is grabbing my hair, pulling my face upward so that my screams, my grunts and moans of satisfaction, can all be heard.
“Fill me, fill me” It’s all I want.
In minutes, hours, days, who knows? He has released me, let go my hair, my cunt, my ass. I lift my head and see that Donna is bent over him now. His donger is in her mouth. She is savoring it like candy: licking it, sucking it, rolling around in it. She is stretching her lips wide for him, lowering her fucking mouth to his crotch… I see her eyes begin to tear as her throat contracts… He takes it out, rubs it against her nose and eyes, teases her with it, makes her beg for more.
“Please,” I hear her say. “feed me more Master.”
He gives her what she wants. Again and again.
The stars are fading from the sky when it’s my turn again. When Master Drake bends me over for the second time, he means business. He is so hard…. It feels so good. This time my muscles don’t resist him for long. And as they relax around him, I feel like my whole world is opening up inside of me. When he finally spills his seed, lets it trickle down the inside of my legs, lets me thank him with feeble voice, feeds it from fingers to his other pet who still sits patiently by his side, I am ready, ready to call him Master.
For Master Drake
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)