Wednesday
It was nearing ten o’clock, but Laurel Tennyson was still at work. Hunched over her desk, back aching, blue eyes bleary, Laurel slaved away at the keyboard in front of her, words, directives, scoldings echoing through her word-numbed mind. The debate was tomorrow, the election mere weeks away, which was why it was imperative, just imperative that Laurel master every single detail, down to each stray comma, every fact and quote, statistic neatly referenced, collated and properly stacked… 22 briefings, all to be ready for tomorrow’s morning review….
Laurel’s pace quickens, her hands gliding over the 104 keys, recalling the senator’s disapproving frown, his clucks of dismay when she had presented him with her first drafts earlier in the day. His reproof still echoing in her ears, “amateurish” he had pronounced it, casting three weeks of her labor into the nearest trashcan, all the while making no effort to conceal his lust for her, his eyes lingering on the dimple of material stretching between her rounded breasts, his hands brushing her exposed thigh, his lecherous, sadistic grin, as he lets his hands slide a little higher than they ought, telling her to stay late, to redo them…. redo them all. To stay as late as she must. She can hear him now, above the din of her typing, calling her, summoning her, “fetch me some coffee, miss…”
Wearily Laurel rises from her chair; she has been seated so long that her legs feel stiff, arthritic. The crepe lines of her crisp cream colored suit are run up and down with wrinkles, her pale blue shell hugs her tiny waist, but it has come untucked on one side, adding to her overall unkemptness. Laurel removes her glasses which have left tiny red impressions on the sides of her nose, shuffles to the coffee maker, filling the enormous mug 2/3s full, measuring out exact amounts of sugar and milk, leveling each spoonful with as much precision as her time drained body can muster. She pulls her hair, which she wears in a bun for convenience, down, letting the rich blonde tresses swirl around her shoulders. The senator does not wish for her to wear her hair up. Laurel stirs the coffee twelve times, turns the handle to face her left and rests the spoon gently on the right hand side of the saucer before bringing it to the senator.
He is on the phone when she enters, his back facing her as she rests the steaming saucer next to him and turns to go. “Wait…” he says, grabbing her wrist, turning mouth from receiver and drawing her close so that the edge of her buttocks rests on the edge of his desk, so that as he leans back in his reclining desk chair, his eyes fall level with her crotch. He continues his conversation leisurely while she waits… savoring the view of her nervous body; he feels her tense as his hands, reaching for coffee, brush her thigh, touch her hip, as he leans in, reaching for his rolodex, straining to grasp it over her trembling lap; she can feel his hot breath singe her chest through the thin material of her blouse…. smell the grease of his pomade, his political stench, crinkle her nose. She is sitting perfectly still, afraid that any single movement will be interpreted as a sign, a signal of assent. He hangs up the phone at last, turning toward her too quickly, knocking cup and saucer to the floor with a clatter; she feels the hot spray of liquid splash across the clean white sprawl of her ivory skirt front, hear his expletives as the brown beverage snakes its way down her legs, spreading in large murky puddles across the floor, curving around the ceramic shards of the broken teacup. And so Laurel finds herself on her hands and knees, mopping up the mess while the senator tracks her ass like he has it on radar. Watching the small of her back dip and rise and her fetching, pert ass bob up and down with each menial scrub. And then as she takes water sodden towel to her own stained lap, she feels it. Feels him. His hand, reaching up around the limp folds of her skirt, reaching between her trembling thighs…. Until Laurel is scurrying out of his office clutching her sopping skirt the sound of his quiet laughter ringing in her ears.
Alone at last, in the relative sanctity of her front office, Laurel scrubs at the large brown stain furiously; she feels the hot sting of tears welling in her eyes just as she hears the disturbance at the door. Looking up she is mortified to see her sisters: Rowan, Mara and Willow strolling through the entrance way, escorted by a tall, dark haired man in a black jacket. Mara and Willow are mirror images of Laurel, luxurious blond hair, round blue eyes shaded by rows of black lashes. Large curved breasts that taper into small, elegant waists, long, coltish legs. Rowan, though a year older, is slightly shorter than her sisters, with a fountain of tangerine hair that shrouds her dark, almond shaped eyes, her face a maze of soft angles, her body trim, with two round breasts that point upward, tossed toward the pale length of her graceful neck. Although Laurel, herself, is a mess, she is no match for her sisters, whose levels of dishevelment eclipse her own sorry state. Smears of lipstick tarnish each girl’s face, tracks of burgundies and petal pink, lip strokes brushed across cheeks and décolletages, Mara’s blouse is ripped in the front and a button is missing, Rowan’s skirt is twisted sideways and all of its lively pleats have fallen out. Willow has a large streak of cum a full hand-width’s wide matted in her thick blonde hair. And Laurel can see that, winding around their three slender ankles, each sister is wearing a slim chain of metal snaked around her left leg.
“What do you want? Why are you here?’ Laurel demands, her eyes narrowing into slits.
“See Master,” explains Willow, apologetically, “just as I told you, she’s very uptight.”
“She’s got a porcupine up her ass” adds Mara while Rowan, assuming Laurel’s chair, leans her knees up tight against the edge of Laurel’s desk, letting the loose folds of her red skirt fall back, revealing that her black opaque tights end at her thigh, showing off the nudity of her milky legs and exposed sex.
Master Drake surveys the newest member of the Tennyson family, observes red rimmed eyes, prettily flushed cheeks, heaving chest… swallowing sobs… it is almost too good to be believed. Willow is astride Laurel’s desk, Laurel just in time to snatch away a stack of dossiers before they are smushed by Willow’s descending ass… when Master Drake approaches her, notices her flinch as he grasps her arm.
“We shouldn’t have come tonight,” he begins softly… sees her relax just a little. “I can see that you are very busy.” Laurel nods her head numbly. Freeing herself from his grasp, folders hugged to her breast, she strides to the corner filing cabinet…
“You should all leave… now.” She says forcefully; collecting her composure. “The senator will not tolerate visitors, especially my visitors at this late hour.”
Master Drake approaches her again, cornering her against the wall, speaking calmly. “we’ll be out of your hair soon Laurel. What I want needn’t take long.”
Laurel can see the intensity of his blue eyes running up and down the curves of her figure. It feels different than when the senator had done so just a little while ago. She feels herself drawn and repelled from him at the same time…. Her tired mind is confused as he pulls her toward him, planting his open mouth on her closed one, feels his tongue part the fat of her bee-stung lips…
“You will do as I tell you…” he whispers moving one hand up the thin layer of her blouse.
“No, no, no…” she is murmuring, quietly, plaintively… hearing the senator moving about in the adjacent office, “you have to leave… please… please just go.” Laurel can feel the curious eyes of her sisters revolving around her, smell the stale smell of coffee that lingers, saturating her senses…. But all she can think about is him… the creep of his hand up her leg….. the urgency in his voice as he tells her that he will go. Now. If only she tells him to stop.
“stoooo…” she falters as she feels his fingers fumble between the press of her satin panties, feels her cheeks crimson at his discovery of the damp crescent that awaits him.
He looks at her, her lips are parted now, her chest rises and falls against the press of his body against hers…. His gaze is piercing as he waits for her to continue. When she doesn’t, when it is clear that she has succumbed, he explains to her that tonight he and her sisters will have their way with her. That she is to be a good pet and do as he commands. And that if she is unable to, then he will alert the senator himself to her debauched ways, her sexual proclivities purchased on the government’s dollar. Does she understand, he wants to know. Does she understand?
Laurel colors, clenches her legs shut even as she feels the prick of passion between her thighs, the lips of her cunt moisten ... even more the rise of her tell-tale nipples under the her bra... stiffen harden as he waits for her response.
She thinks, her mind is racing, recalling events that had brought this night's awful deeds upon her. What had she done, what… what had she done? Perhaps it was when she had told Rowan to get a real job instead of sucking cock all night, to which Rowan herself had responded that she hadn't realized their occupations were so similar... or when she had, just the other day, broken up with Willow’s boyfriend for her, assumed Willow’s name and broken up with that loser from the bike shop for her... she had done her a favor really... told him that she needed a man who would take her places....
And with Mara, who knew Mara was just mean, but… Laurel shuts her eyes, feels the stranger’s breath stroking her neck, and the humiliation racks her body… in the palpable silence as he waits... does she understand?
Her palms are sweaty she is quivering, suppressing her panic... She raises her eyes only to lower them again quickly... he is staring at her, the blue of his eyes boring holes into her breasts, into her stomach ... and lower. She feels herself flush, tries to turn away from him, but he is holding her pushed up against the sharp corner of the filing cabinet... She feels the cold metal jut into her spine... she stares at her sisters, at their slinky, slutty selves, masturbating on her desk, shuffling her papers, her weeks and weeks of diligent work... wetting each other’s fingers with extended tongues, before caressing damp recesses... slick holes. Her face burns as she answers. Sullenly, almost silently... “yes.”
Just barely… “yes.”
“That's a good girl” the stranger responds, pushing her gently to the ground, bidding her to follow him, across the office, on all fours... like a dog. Laurel’s eyes water with the sting of humiliation; she averts her eyes this time, not to avoid the intensity of his watch, but so that she can avoid the mockery of her sisters... She crosses slowly, prolonging her pain, but she cannot bring herself to move faster... her humiliation is like a brick, an anchor holding her back. When he arrives at Laurel's desk he signals for her to stop. A low whistle. Laurel feels the heat rise in her face, but as she sees his eyes wander to the wood paneled hallway that stretches out of the back of her office, leading to the senator's office at the end of the hall, she bites her tongue. She stops, pulls up on her haunches and waits. Deftly he slides her between the desk and the chair, planting her hands on the ground, a few feet apart, her head, bowed, facing away from him.
Beside her, her older sister Rowan has a promise to be kept. Rising from her chair, Rowan places each of her feet between the milky white hands of her trembling sister who lies below her on the floor. Over her prostrate body, Master Drake stands, his erect dick, which he removes from his pants, dangling inches in front of Laurel’s downcast face. Forcefully, though not cruelly, he pushes Rowan’s head to the desk, her arms sweep across its smooth surface sending paperclips and election buttons crashing to the ground, so that smiling pictures of the senator surround Laurel, his face leering up at her as she waits for the next command. When it comes, she blushes despite her inner vows not to…
“Your sister… your sister pet, has promised me her virgin ass tonight, pet…” he begins addressing Laurel. “You will have the privilege of preparing it for me.” Guiding Laurel’s reluctant hands up the halves of Rowan’s buttocks, Laurel is forced to part them for him, exposing the tender pink crease of her ass and the tiny brown pucker nestled within.
“Spank her for me, pet.” Laurel reddens. What if the senator hears? She turns her face toward him, a beseeching look, but he pushes her head back gently towards the prone body of her sister. Clasps her wrist, raising her hand for her.
Laurel blanches. And then, quivering, brings her hand down with a thud on the white flanks of her sister.
“Harder” he commands.
Laurel raises her hand again, this time of her own accord, bringing the flat of her hand down swiftly, this time eliciting a smile, a slow groan from the recumbent red head stretched out in front of her.
“Again.”
Laurel feels her ass rub up against the end of his cock as she raises her body off of the plush green carpet of the senator’s office, raises her hand, lowering it with a resounding smack.
Rowan gasps, her head bangs against the surface of the desk. Her hands grip the sides of it…
“Again.”
Another smack, louder than the last. Rowan’s ass is coloring a bright pink. She is writhing in pleasure-pain. Her black clad legs are dancing about with each tremendous swat, the billows of her red skirt pushed above her, her pink ass taut and primed for the master’s pleasure.
“See…???” says the master bending down to whisper in Laurel’s ear. “That wasn’t so bad, now was it?”
Laurel flushes, excitement pulses through the fine muscles of her face, her eyes are bright but glazed…
“Now, lick it for me” he says.
Like a deflated balloon, Laurel turns toward his upright face… “you mean….?”
“Yes Pet, lick your sister’s dirty ass.”
Laurel balks, backs up, but the master is right there, blocking her path, forcing her forward again with the weight of his legs, until her face is just inches from the swollen target. Laurel extends a tentative tongue, her hair falls in front of her face, shielding her dismay from the eyes of her grinning sisters. Slowly she begins to lap at the crest of Rowan’s ass. Like a kitten, she strokes it. One lick. Two licks. Three. And now Willow is there too, bending down to suck on her master’s cock. Let its hard intent bend back her head and press upon her throat. Feel it glide between her teeth, filling her mouth with the fullness of him. Willow, Willow, who fondles his balls with tender fingers, whose billowing breasts hug his knees, while in front of him, Laurel, this his newest prize, primes the ass that tonight, will be his. He can’t stand it any longer, impatience rushes over him, withdrawing from the lush mouth of his twenty-seventh pet, he plunges the force of his dick into the nether regions of Rowan’s glistening bottom. Feels her wrench at the first punch… sees her knuckles whiten as they grasp each side of the desk. Her pink ass tightens around him… surrounding him with the tight tissue of her anus. He is pushing against her resistant muscles, straining to break through the barrier of her contracted tissue… into the warm embrace of her ass. The push of his erection, forcing itself into the tight of her ass… sliding further further until at last he has his way…. He feels the muscles around him loosen, fall slack as he works her… the friction giving away to the smooth slide of his cock… in and out… just a little, filling up space where there was none before… engorging her ass with the weight of his fullest potential… seizing the mottled curves of her bottom which wriggle and twitch with his every thrust. Delighting in the twin beauties bowing at his feet and at the third, who bends front-ways over the desk, covering his neck with the adoration of her gentle kisses which fall upon his throat and chest… as he pushes again and again. Hears Rowan’s muffled voice… begging him to take her other hole… pleading as she rides the passion of his pulse, heaving… she feels her sisters pull at her ankles, keeping her rooted to the floor, her arms strap the desk, but still she feels like she could fly away… his fingers are in her now, plunging three and four-fold into the sweet bowl of her cunt. The thin wall of flesh separating her two holes pulsates with pleasure as she is stroked… one and then the other, pummeling her… thrusting in and out… wet juices drip onto the laminate desk top, trickle down her legs, her moans and wild sobs escalate… he is ramming into the meat of her flesh, ripping in and out… his pelvis grinding against the pale moons of her buttocks, his fingers plumbing the tropical folds of her pussy, wet and glistening, sliding through her crimson cunt. His breath labored, heavy… as the hot house of her ass enfolds him, pressing in around him, until it is wringing his cum from him, and he is falling upon her prone body, filling her ass to the brim… as above him Mara warms his back with the soft touch of her caress and under him, Rowan’s body relaxes, the rush of orgasms subsiding, the hot sheen of sweat still glistening on her face.
At her feet, her sister Laurel feels the inner well of envy and longing mingle as she watches her sister in the throes of lust. And while her sister’s passion eventually subsides, Laurel sits on the floor, filled with desire… Looking down at her, from where he is now seated, in her leather backed swivel chair, Master Drake reaches into his pocket, pulls out a slim manila envelope.
Dangling it in front of her, he leans over… “what do you say, Pet?”
Laurel sits up, shifts her gaze to the envelope… “please…” she says hesitantly… “please master?”
Smiling Master Drake lowers the envelope, allowing its contents to trickle into his hands, a slim, metal chain, identical to the ones her sisters wear, which he leans over and fastens to her ankle, saying simply, “now you are mine.”
So when he orders her, a short time later, to take his penis in her mouth, she does not protest. Her tear stained cheeks and red-rimmed eyes rise and fall below him as she takes his cock between her succulent lips, rolling her tongue over its creases, feeling it harden to her touch… feels the rapture of pleasing him swell in her heart. He brushes away the strands of corn-silk hair that hide her face, watching the lightly tinted eyelids that flutter when she moves, the concave hollows of her cheeks as she lowers her face down toward him, as low as she can go… hears the soft retch as he pushes, pushes beyond…
When the senator rings at half past eleven, the phone light blinking like an insistent firefly, Master Drake allows his pet to answer the phone, fingers her cunt, between the thin line of her panties as he hears her promise to review his speech notes, order his car and pick up his dry cleaning. Her servile tone delights him so that before she can hang up the phone, he is standing behind her, bending her over and plunging her pussy with his hardening dick. He hears her gasp into the phone, color as she attempts to explain it away… her voice breaking with each of his thrusts. Behind him he feels Mara slowly circling the rim of his ass, sending shivers up his spine with the luxurious touch of her long fingers against his flesh… her soft hair brushing his legs… Laurel is bent over the desk now, struggling to make sense of the senator’s commands, she can hear him, but all she can feel is the slick, hard dick of her master drilling her from behind. His hands are pressed against the small of her back, her face is practically flush with the desk. Master Drake can hear the senator’s voice, speaking to his pet, hear him reminding her how he wants his breakfast the next day and what tie to bring him for the debate. He has no idea that his intern is getting fucked in his greeting room, that his memos and briefs and campaign posters are slick with her juices… the juices that he, Master Drake, has stirred inside of her… the passion he incited. And so, before the senator can finish, before Laurel can make the call that will summon his car to arrive within the next fifteen minutes, Master Drake has cum, a second time, sending spurts of cum all over the place, covering the sea of campaign buttons that litter the floor with the salty spray of his seed.
*****
Forty minutes later, Holly Tennyson is sitting by her window waiting for her daughters to arrive home. It is late after all, and Laurel has to work tomorrow and Mara has class. The younger children had been asleep for at least half an hour. Holly is an attractive woman though her brown eyes are filled with sadness and longing. In her lap she cradles a photo, old and prematurely stained, it is a picture of Holly from years ago, smiling into the camera, her lush auburn hair rippling down her milky shoulders. She is seated, looking directly into the camera. Her eyes are happy, full of laughter. Behind her, faceless, is a man, or just so, his torso, his hands, resting on her shoulders, his face obscured by the edge of the photo-frame… Holly sighs, lifts her wrist, strokes the lone tattoo embedded in her pale skin. A single number: 10. A reminder of a promise.
Minutes later Holly’s reverie is shattered by the unmistakable sound of her daughters’ approach… a speeding vehicle, a blast of noxious music. It was them. As Holly peers out of the lace bound window, she is startled to see a gray sedan pull up in front of her house. She squints into the darkness. Were all four of her daughters arriving in a single automobile, together? As the car comes to a stop, and doors are thrown open, Holly stares at the tumble of long legs and sea of hair that emerge from the vehicle. Willow, leather clad from the drivers’ side, and Mara, naturally riding shotgun, but then from the back seat, slipping out the door, Rowan her red skirt blowing against her skinny legs in the cruel March wind and Laurel in black coat and white knit hat… And then, last, climbing out of the back seat to resume his position in the front, a man. Holly is squinting, staring into the night. A tall man with brown hair and a black coat…. She watches her daughters swarm around him, bestowing his face with blowy kisses before starting up to the front door.
Withdrawing from the window, Holly’s face is full of wonder… Distractedly she looks again at the number etched onto her wrist, picturing the silhouette of the mysterious man who had tamed her daughters, in the back of her head, humming now as she crosses the room to greet her girls, pulling the sleeve of her pink sweater over the tattoo… for now… it would wait until tomorrow.
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Camp Lindenwood Series: The Long Farewell Part 5/5
Chapter 5: The Long Farewell
Avery
It’s 9:30 pm, and I am making my way… slowly…. very slowly… to the cabin under the hemlock trees. I’m late by half an hour… and maybe 3 or 4 years. Ever since I confided in my supervisor, Donna, the dreadful truth that I was a virgin, well, the status had weighed around me like a brick. You see, it’s not that I’m a prude, and it’s not like I’m 40; I’m 22 though, done with university. I’ve waited long enough. What happened to me, do you wonder? Do you wonder if I’m ugly, why I’ve been ignored? I don’t think I’m ugly. I’m medium built, with a tiny waist. I’m pale, and slightly freckled, I hope you won’t hold that against me! My hair is chestnut brown and curly, my eyes are round, the color of blueberries. I have dimples when I smile. I take good care of myself. So, what happened? Well, I guess, for one thing, I went to an all-girls’ school to start. And then on holiday, well, I have parents who love me; I went on safari, and toured the old palaces of Russia, rafted the Amazon; I guess I just never had time. And then at university, I guess I just kind of got lost. It never seemed like the right time, the right bloke. And I suppose I’m really not that adventurous…. only in my dreams.
My dreams… that’s how it all started… awaking in the middle of the night, in the dark with throbbing genitalia, aroused from my slumber by thoughts of wickedness. I had thought I had sufficiently muffled the ensuing sounds of my orgasm, sprung from my own fingers… my own touch. Thought that no one had heard me writhe underneath my bed sheets envisioning faceless men with their sex exposed, descending on me in a school bus. But I had been wrong. When Donna accosted me the next morning, drilled me with questions until me cheeks burned, I finally confessed. Told her the truth. Told her everything. I was an unhappy virgin. And now tonight, all that was about to change.
When I finally reach the cabin, stand outside it in my skyvvies for 15 more minutes gathering the courage to knock on the door, I am, of course, the last to arrive. When I finally knock, Donna opens the door, hugs me, welcomes me in. She is wearing an ivory silk negligee, one that falls like rainwater over the voluptuous curves of her body. I can’t help but stare. She herds me into the bedroom where the other girls are waiting. Kelly, in a dark blue, silk pajama top and shorts, Simone, in a dove gray bathrobe that ends mid-thigh. Would you believe me if I told you she wasn’t wearing anything underneath? They are both in the bed… arguing quietly. I can’t hear what they are saying. Shoshanna is wearing a tight pink cami and hipster shorts with words that I can’t say out loud scrawled across the front and backside in large, bejeweled letters, and Halla, tall and willowy is wearing a sheer cotton night dress that just grazes the bottom of her… well the top of her thighs. Her hair is done in little pigtails and she is painting her nails a bright shade of pink. Everyone looks up when I enter. They stare at my own modest pale blue nighty, my fuzzy slippers, my wondrous eyes… It’s like they’ve never seen a virgin before.
I am nervous, I admit it. When Mister Drake arrives ten minutes later… when I hear his car tires crunch on the gravel outside, hear the screen door slam and his footfalls on the stairs, my tummy starts to spin in belly flops. The others are more subdued now too. The room, once abuzz with hairspray and idle gossip, has gone suddenly serious. Mister Drake enters the bedroom a few minutes later, setting his brown paper parcel on the floor. His eyes travel to room taking in the sight of the six girls arrayed before him. His eyes linger on me.
“Avery…” he walks over, wraps me in a tight hug, the rise of my breasts collapse in his embrace. I smell his scent surround and overwhelm my senses.
“Welcome to my coterie. I hope this will be a special night for you.”
I smile, surprised, thanking him politely.
“I have a few questions for you first, Avery….” he explains, cupping my pointed chin in his hands, the way a father does a child.
“OK” I relent.
“First, will you call me master?”
I redden. Feel sheepish inside, I look away, but he clutches my chin and forces me to meet his gaze.
“Master?” he repeats.
“Master Drake?”
“No pet, just Master.”
I take a deep breath. “Yes, master” I respond, feeling a chill run up my spine. “What is your next question master?”
“Will you do everything your master says?” he queries. “Do it the first time, like a good little pet should?”
I nod my assent.
“Will you let me tie you up tonight, when I take your virginity, pet?”
He says it like a question, but I realize it is not. I bite my lip, leaving a deep red cut. Once again, I nod my head.
“Say it pet.”
“Yes” and then realizing my error… “yes please”
He rises, turns to Donna “get her ready.” He is out the door, down the steps. The room springs into action. Kelly is lifting my night shirt off; Donna is opening the parcel left by the doorway revealing a bright red panty which she pulls up over my thighs. Simone is dusting my face with scented powder, my face and well… some other places too, applying a dark cherry stain to my lips. Around my wrists, someone, I think Shoshanna, encircling them with leather bonds, cuffing them together behind my back. Donna is leading me to the king sized bed, shackling my hands to its great wooden posts. Flanking me on the bed, holding my feet to the bed, are Kelly and Donna. When master returns,
Simone greets him at the door, “voila!” she exclaims.
He crawls up on the bed. Without saying a word, Shoshanna and Simone begin to undress him, pulling away jeans, shorts, shirt, until he is on top of me, naked. I flex my calves as I feel his breath on my chest, and am surprised at the strength in which Kelly and Donna hold me down.
“A virgin” he says, “in my bed” He has taken his erection, his um, his erect penis in his hands and he sort of drags it along my face, under my nostrils so that I can smell his scent. I can feel my nipples inhale.
“Do you really want me to take your virginity away from you tonight, pet?” he inquires, running his… er, penis, down the slope of my nose.
“Yes, yes” I repeat “yes master”
“Do you want me to turn you into a fucking cunt whore – a whore like these bitches?” he asks gesturing with his … dick…. to the girls that circle the bed.
I nod my head.
“Ask me nice” he replies, rearing up on his haunches.
“please master” I am trembling, shaking inside “please make me a dirty, filthy whore.”
Slowly, he lowers himself into my mouth.
I exhale, long and deep.
His dick fills up my mouth… my cheeks puff out in an effort to accomodate him, his thighs hug my cheeks. I can smell him all around me. Down below my clitoris has begun to flinch.
He is moving in and out of me now, but I remain … motionless, paralyzed.
“use your tongue, slut”
I had forgotten, jolted into awareness, I tentatively run my tongue along the crease of his dick. I feel him pause, momentarily, savoring the sensation. I am emboldened. Gently I begin to rotate my tongue around the smooth ridge that heads his … cock. I fold my tongue into the tiny hole at the top. As he dangles it over me, I lick the base, suck the sack of his balls… ladling them in and out of my mouth.
“she’s a quick study” I hear Kelly snicker.
Now he is sliding his cock, wet with my saliva, down the course of my front, between my breasts and down the center of my abdomen, leaving a thin trail of spittle in its wake. The girls, Kelly and Donna are grasping my knees in their arms and splaying them outward. I feel his cock hit the nub of my clitoris; it feels like someone has pierced me. I yelp. He is at the throat of my vagina, pushing against the baby flesh of my labia. I look down, afraid to look anywhere else… he is pushing past the tension of my resistant muscles now…. I can feel them clenching, tightening… pushing against his entry. I feel the burn as he slides into me… millimeter by millimeter…. I see the centimeters of his cock buried in my flesh. Slowly, grudgingly, I feel my muscles expand, making room for the intruder. He is only halfway down into me yet, but I feel like my stomach will rupture at any moment. He pulls out and then begins again, a little less patiently… a little further in… I feel myself beginning to moisten, feel my juices as they spill out of my labia… feel the walls of my cunt finally release… relax… as he slides his way in. My graceful legs hook over his, held in place by two willing women. My arms are bound and strapped above me. My cunt is free.
In just a while, after my body has succumbed to spasms of pleasure and deep moans of pain, he pulls out of me. His penis is caked in the residue of my cunt. Leaning back on me, he once again fills my mouth, the rotten-sweet taste of my own pungent juices sting my tongue. He is less careful now, tunneling his way through my mouth. I close my eyes, but can’t keep them shut…. He is pushing against the back wall of my mouth, my blue eyes begin to water and overflow. The tears roll down my cheeks and my nostrils flair, struggling for air. I know he feels my body wiggle under his. Kelly and Donna run smooth hands up and down my body, finesse the ridges of my cunt, explore the pinch of my ass. He is grunting himself now, calling me “a dirty whore,” “his fucking cunt.” He is breathing heavily. Suddenly he gestures to Shoshanna who approaches the bed.
“Tell me pet, where should I cum on this bitch?”
“mmm master,” she purrs, fondling my cunt. She bends over and whispers her answer in his ear.
“very well”
Extracting himself from my mouth, he once again takes my pussy, plunging into it with such great force… I moan, try to cover my mouth, but my leather bound hands won’t reach. I feel the expenditure of my vaginal muscles, feel their clutch give way. The thick spurt and the warm trickle as he lifts his cum-laden dick back out and to my mouth. I taste the salt slick as it travels down my parched throat. Feel him finish by dousing my hair and eyes.
After I have been initiated, I am allowed to join the others. We line the wall of the bedroom, shameless in our nudity. Master passes before each of us in turn, caressing erect nipples, groping wet cunts. At times, at his desire, a girl will bend down and suck his cock, lap his balls, tenderly finger his ass. Finally, he directs Shoshanna and Simone to the chair and ottoman set sitting in the corner, next to the bed. Simone grimaces but does not complain. Kelly and Donna get the bed. Halla and I. We are left with the wall.
“Bend over” he instructs me.
Then he reaches over and turns out the light.
Halla
The lights go out.
I can hear the sound of Avery’s breathing short and quick beside me. I wait, bracing myself. Nothing.
I wait as my ears pick up the sounds of movement from the bed and the chair, the ache of bodies coming together, the smack of wet skin touching wet skin. I am bent over, as master instructed, my hands braced against the wall. I can feel the dull thud of the wall against the crown of my head. My two pigtails tickle my ears. I hear the rustle of the bag again, feel the cool weight of a leather band being strapped around my neck. I hear Avery inhale as one is fastened around hers as well. The click as I realize that we are tethered together, collared. roped.
And then again, nothing. From the further recesses of the room, I hear the hisses of girls “eat me bitch” “eat me” followed by sighs, grunts, moans. I feel the cool night breeze through the open window. It makes me shiver. But all I see is darkness. Next to me, I hear Avery suddenly inhale sharply. I am practically pulled off my feet as I feel her body stumble and bump against mine. I feel master’s arm brush my right hip as he steadies her. I feel her slim torso next to me lurch, her spine arches like a cat’s. And then, her scream. It is raspy, feral. She is crying, panting in my ear… whispering “no, no, no… yes… yess. Yessss.” Her hand has gripped mine, her nails dig into it. I cringe, but I do not shove her off. Who knows what solace I may need when it is my turn? I hear the “thwack” “thwack” of skin hitting skin, am lulled by its rhythm… until I feel the sweaty spine of his dick caress my ass. Beside me, Avery’s body is racked by sobbing heaves. She is clammy, whispering “thank you master, thank you.” His hands are under me, pinching my nipples, his cock is poised behind my ass. I think that if we were all quiet enough you could hear my heart beat. And then…. Ufff. I feel him. The hard force pushing against such a small little hole. I let out a small cry. “master” I squeal. His legs hurdle my own, his arms locked above. I feel the slow push of his forced entry, the slow slide of dick pulsating against stubborn walls. Incrementally he enters my virgin ass… unlocking each muscle with each deliberate thrust. I grit my teeth, beads of sweat litter my brow. Behind me I hear the smacks of lips against skin, the wails of girls in climax. My ass is twitching uncontrollably, so much so, that he removes his hands from the wall above and rests them on my ass, enjoying the reflex of my muscle spasms. His dick is pulsing inside me. I hear his breathing quicken. Quicken. Quicken.
“bitch” he yells, and I feel the squirt of cum load my ass and drip to the plush carpet below. I hear the sounds of four other ladies, who answer his shout like a sirens’ song, descending to where I stand, licking my legs, handling his weakening cock with gentle hands and lips. Beside me, Avery sinks to the ground, pulling me along with her.
Donna
A while later, when we are no longer blinded by the return of the light, we finally have our sleep-over. My master lies in the middle of the bed, his cock already showing signs of new life. Around him, tired heads resting on downy pillows, lie six exhausted girls. Each one of us tucked into a comfortable sleeping bag on the floor. I am sure as the night progresses, he will summon us, one by one to entertain him on his bed, but for now I am content to sit, alone with my thoughts. I am increasingly aware that the summer is coming to an end, that in mere days I will be driving three hours south to attend the liberal arts school of my choice. I run my hands over the stain on my crotch. 16. Sixteen. 15 before me, how many after? I lie there, silent in the night, mulling my thoughts. I hear the first girl, rise from her place on the floor to answer his summons as I slowly drift off to sleep.
The next day, as I am packing up my car, I am startled to hear footsteps running up behind me. It is Kelly. She is out of breath. She is wearing a bright yellow sundress with gold flip flops. Her hair is pulled back in a long pony tail. She is gulping for air, when she points to it, can hardly speak: around her neck, a black leather cord, and from hanging a little, silver charm. 17.
The End
Avery
It’s 9:30 pm, and I am making my way… slowly…. very slowly… to the cabin under the hemlock trees. I’m late by half an hour… and maybe 3 or 4 years. Ever since I confided in my supervisor, Donna, the dreadful truth that I was a virgin, well, the status had weighed around me like a brick. You see, it’s not that I’m a prude, and it’s not like I’m 40; I’m 22 though, done with university. I’ve waited long enough. What happened to me, do you wonder? Do you wonder if I’m ugly, why I’ve been ignored? I don’t think I’m ugly. I’m medium built, with a tiny waist. I’m pale, and slightly freckled, I hope you won’t hold that against me! My hair is chestnut brown and curly, my eyes are round, the color of blueberries. I have dimples when I smile. I take good care of myself. So, what happened? Well, I guess, for one thing, I went to an all-girls’ school to start. And then on holiday, well, I have parents who love me; I went on safari, and toured the old palaces of Russia, rafted the Amazon; I guess I just never had time. And then at university, I guess I just kind of got lost. It never seemed like the right time, the right bloke. And I suppose I’m really not that adventurous…. only in my dreams.
My dreams… that’s how it all started… awaking in the middle of the night, in the dark with throbbing genitalia, aroused from my slumber by thoughts of wickedness. I had thought I had sufficiently muffled the ensuing sounds of my orgasm, sprung from my own fingers… my own touch. Thought that no one had heard me writhe underneath my bed sheets envisioning faceless men with their sex exposed, descending on me in a school bus. But I had been wrong. When Donna accosted me the next morning, drilled me with questions until me cheeks burned, I finally confessed. Told her the truth. Told her everything. I was an unhappy virgin. And now tonight, all that was about to change.
When I finally reach the cabin, stand outside it in my skyvvies for 15 more minutes gathering the courage to knock on the door, I am, of course, the last to arrive. When I finally knock, Donna opens the door, hugs me, welcomes me in. She is wearing an ivory silk negligee, one that falls like rainwater over the voluptuous curves of her body. I can’t help but stare. She herds me into the bedroom where the other girls are waiting. Kelly, in a dark blue, silk pajama top and shorts, Simone, in a dove gray bathrobe that ends mid-thigh. Would you believe me if I told you she wasn’t wearing anything underneath? They are both in the bed… arguing quietly. I can’t hear what they are saying. Shoshanna is wearing a tight pink cami and hipster shorts with words that I can’t say out loud scrawled across the front and backside in large, bejeweled letters, and Halla, tall and willowy is wearing a sheer cotton night dress that just grazes the bottom of her… well the top of her thighs. Her hair is done in little pigtails and she is painting her nails a bright shade of pink. Everyone looks up when I enter. They stare at my own modest pale blue nighty, my fuzzy slippers, my wondrous eyes… It’s like they’ve never seen a virgin before.
I am nervous, I admit it. When Mister Drake arrives ten minutes later… when I hear his car tires crunch on the gravel outside, hear the screen door slam and his footfalls on the stairs, my tummy starts to spin in belly flops. The others are more subdued now too. The room, once abuzz with hairspray and idle gossip, has gone suddenly serious. Mister Drake enters the bedroom a few minutes later, setting his brown paper parcel on the floor. His eyes travel to room taking in the sight of the six girls arrayed before him. His eyes linger on me.
“Avery…” he walks over, wraps me in a tight hug, the rise of my breasts collapse in his embrace. I smell his scent surround and overwhelm my senses.
“Welcome to my coterie. I hope this will be a special night for you.”
I smile, surprised, thanking him politely.
“I have a few questions for you first, Avery….” he explains, cupping my pointed chin in his hands, the way a father does a child.
“OK” I relent.
“First, will you call me master?”
I redden. Feel sheepish inside, I look away, but he clutches my chin and forces me to meet his gaze.
“Master?” he repeats.
“Master Drake?”
“No pet, just Master.”
I take a deep breath. “Yes, master” I respond, feeling a chill run up my spine. “What is your next question master?”
“Will you do everything your master says?” he queries. “Do it the first time, like a good little pet should?”
I nod my assent.
“Will you let me tie you up tonight, when I take your virginity, pet?”
He says it like a question, but I realize it is not. I bite my lip, leaving a deep red cut. Once again, I nod my head.
“Say it pet.”
“Yes” and then realizing my error… “yes please”
He rises, turns to Donna “get her ready.” He is out the door, down the steps. The room springs into action. Kelly is lifting my night shirt off; Donna is opening the parcel left by the doorway revealing a bright red panty which she pulls up over my thighs. Simone is dusting my face with scented powder, my face and well… some other places too, applying a dark cherry stain to my lips. Around my wrists, someone, I think Shoshanna, encircling them with leather bonds, cuffing them together behind my back. Donna is leading me to the king sized bed, shackling my hands to its great wooden posts. Flanking me on the bed, holding my feet to the bed, are Kelly and Donna. When master returns,
Simone greets him at the door, “voila!” she exclaims.
He crawls up on the bed. Without saying a word, Shoshanna and Simone begin to undress him, pulling away jeans, shorts, shirt, until he is on top of me, naked. I flex my calves as I feel his breath on my chest, and am surprised at the strength in which Kelly and Donna hold me down.
“A virgin” he says, “in my bed” He has taken his erection, his um, his erect penis in his hands and he sort of drags it along my face, under my nostrils so that I can smell his scent. I can feel my nipples inhale.
“Do you really want me to take your virginity away from you tonight, pet?” he inquires, running his… er, penis, down the slope of my nose.
“Yes, yes” I repeat “yes master”
“Do you want me to turn you into a fucking cunt whore – a whore like these bitches?” he asks gesturing with his … dick…. to the girls that circle the bed.
I nod my head.
“Ask me nice” he replies, rearing up on his haunches.
“please master” I am trembling, shaking inside “please make me a dirty, filthy whore.”
Slowly, he lowers himself into my mouth.
I exhale, long and deep.
His dick fills up my mouth… my cheeks puff out in an effort to accomodate him, his thighs hug my cheeks. I can smell him all around me. Down below my clitoris has begun to flinch.
He is moving in and out of me now, but I remain … motionless, paralyzed.
“use your tongue, slut”
I had forgotten, jolted into awareness, I tentatively run my tongue along the crease of his dick. I feel him pause, momentarily, savoring the sensation. I am emboldened. Gently I begin to rotate my tongue around the smooth ridge that heads his … cock. I fold my tongue into the tiny hole at the top. As he dangles it over me, I lick the base, suck the sack of his balls… ladling them in and out of my mouth.
“she’s a quick study” I hear Kelly snicker.
Now he is sliding his cock, wet with my saliva, down the course of my front, between my breasts and down the center of my abdomen, leaving a thin trail of spittle in its wake. The girls, Kelly and Donna are grasping my knees in their arms and splaying them outward. I feel his cock hit the nub of my clitoris; it feels like someone has pierced me. I yelp. He is at the throat of my vagina, pushing against the baby flesh of my labia. I look down, afraid to look anywhere else… he is pushing past the tension of my resistant muscles now…. I can feel them clenching, tightening… pushing against his entry. I feel the burn as he slides into me… millimeter by millimeter…. I see the centimeters of his cock buried in my flesh. Slowly, grudgingly, I feel my muscles expand, making room for the intruder. He is only halfway down into me yet, but I feel like my stomach will rupture at any moment. He pulls out and then begins again, a little less patiently… a little further in… I feel myself beginning to moisten, feel my juices as they spill out of my labia… feel the walls of my cunt finally release… relax… as he slides his way in. My graceful legs hook over his, held in place by two willing women. My arms are bound and strapped above me. My cunt is free.
In just a while, after my body has succumbed to spasms of pleasure and deep moans of pain, he pulls out of me. His penis is caked in the residue of my cunt. Leaning back on me, he once again fills my mouth, the rotten-sweet taste of my own pungent juices sting my tongue. He is less careful now, tunneling his way through my mouth. I close my eyes, but can’t keep them shut…. He is pushing against the back wall of my mouth, my blue eyes begin to water and overflow. The tears roll down my cheeks and my nostrils flair, struggling for air. I know he feels my body wiggle under his. Kelly and Donna run smooth hands up and down my body, finesse the ridges of my cunt, explore the pinch of my ass. He is grunting himself now, calling me “a dirty whore,” “his fucking cunt.” He is breathing heavily. Suddenly he gestures to Shoshanna who approaches the bed.
“Tell me pet, where should I cum on this bitch?”
“mmm master,” she purrs, fondling my cunt. She bends over and whispers her answer in his ear.
“very well”
Extracting himself from my mouth, he once again takes my pussy, plunging into it with such great force… I moan, try to cover my mouth, but my leather bound hands won’t reach. I feel the expenditure of my vaginal muscles, feel their clutch give way. The thick spurt and the warm trickle as he lifts his cum-laden dick back out and to my mouth. I taste the salt slick as it travels down my parched throat. Feel him finish by dousing my hair and eyes.
After I have been initiated, I am allowed to join the others. We line the wall of the bedroom, shameless in our nudity. Master passes before each of us in turn, caressing erect nipples, groping wet cunts. At times, at his desire, a girl will bend down and suck his cock, lap his balls, tenderly finger his ass. Finally, he directs Shoshanna and Simone to the chair and ottoman set sitting in the corner, next to the bed. Simone grimaces but does not complain. Kelly and Donna get the bed. Halla and I. We are left with the wall.
“Bend over” he instructs me.
Then he reaches over and turns out the light.
Halla
The lights go out.
I can hear the sound of Avery’s breathing short and quick beside me. I wait, bracing myself. Nothing.
I wait as my ears pick up the sounds of movement from the bed and the chair, the ache of bodies coming together, the smack of wet skin touching wet skin. I am bent over, as master instructed, my hands braced against the wall. I can feel the dull thud of the wall against the crown of my head. My two pigtails tickle my ears. I hear the rustle of the bag again, feel the cool weight of a leather band being strapped around my neck. I hear Avery inhale as one is fastened around hers as well. The click as I realize that we are tethered together, collared. roped.
And then again, nothing. From the further recesses of the room, I hear the hisses of girls “eat me bitch” “eat me” followed by sighs, grunts, moans. I feel the cool night breeze through the open window. It makes me shiver. But all I see is darkness. Next to me, I hear Avery suddenly inhale sharply. I am practically pulled off my feet as I feel her body stumble and bump against mine. I feel master’s arm brush my right hip as he steadies her. I feel her slim torso next to me lurch, her spine arches like a cat’s. And then, her scream. It is raspy, feral. She is crying, panting in my ear… whispering “no, no, no… yes… yess. Yessss.” Her hand has gripped mine, her nails dig into it. I cringe, but I do not shove her off. Who knows what solace I may need when it is my turn? I hear the “thwack” “thwack” of skin hitting skin, am lulled by its rhythm… until I feel the sweaty spine of his dick caress my ass. Beside me, Avery’s body is racked by sobbing heaves. She is clammy, whispering “thank you master, thank you.” His hands are under me, pinching my nipples, his cock is poised behind my ass. I think that if we were all quiet enough you could hear my heart beat. And then…. Ufff. I feel him. The hard force pushing against such a small little hole. I let out a small cry. “master” I squeal. His legs hurdle my own, his arms locked above. I feel the slow push of his forced entry, the slow slide of dick pulsating against stubborn walls. Incrementally he enters my virgin ass… unlocking each muscle with each deliberate thrust. I grit my teeth, beads of sweat litter my brow. Behind me I hear the smacks of lips against skin, the wails of girls in climax. My ass is twitching uncontrollably, so much so, that he removes his hands from the wall above and rests them on my ass, enjoying the reflex of my muscle spasms. His dick is pulsing inside me. I hear his breathing quicken. Quicken. Quicken.
“bitch” he yells, and I feel the squirt of cum load my ass and drip to the plush carpet below. I hear the sounds of four other ladies, who answer his shout like a sirens’ song, descending to where I stand, licking my legs, handling his weakening cock with gentle hands and lips. Beside me, Avery sinks to the ground, pulling me along with her.
Donna
A while later, when we are no longer blinded by the return of the light, we finally have our sleep-over. My master lies in the middle of the bed, his cock already showing signs of new life. Around him, tired heads resting on downy pillows, lie six exhausted girls. Each one of us tucked into a comfortable sleeping bag on the floor. I am sure as the night progresses, he will summon us, one by one to entertain him on his bed, but for now I am content to sit, alone with my thoughts. I am increasingly aware that the summer is coming to an end, that in mere days I will be driving three hours south to attend the liberal arts school of my choice. I run my hands over the stain on my crotch. 16. Sixteen. 15 before me, how many after? I lie there, silent in the night, mulling my thoughts. I hear the first girl, rise from her place on the floor to answer his summons as I slowly drift off to sleep.
The next day, as I am packing up my car, I am startled to hear footsteps running up behind me. It is Kelly. She is out of breath. She is wearing a bright yellow sundress with gold flip flops. Her hair is pulled back in a long pony tail. She is gulping for air, when she points to it, can hardly speak: around her neck, a black leather cord, and from hanging a little, silver charm. 17.
The End
Sunday, September 26, 2010
A Note to my Readership
I am a writer, not a storyteller, and thus I need your help. I just began writing at the end of the summer, and am thus, running the course of the writings I am willing to share. So this message is to the vocal among you: please share your ideas with me... I know you have them. I will write just about anything as long as it's among consenting adults. E-mail me, facebook me, share with me...
Thank you,
Your
Pscyhe
Thank you,
Your
Pscyhe
Monday, September 6, 2010
Camp Lindenwood Series: Pt. 4/5 Dirty Laundry
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
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
Saturday, September 4, 2010
Meet my Newest Character: Pandora Jones
Hey Everyone,
Please meet my newest creation, Pandora Jones. Like all of my characters, there is a little bit of me inside her. Pandora is in her young thirties with dark hair and dark eyes. She has a petite frame, belied by large, round breasts. She has a compassionate heart but a lazy tempermant. She, like me, is a school teacher.
Pandora is married to her high school sweetheart, Cory. She married quite young, thus curtailing her sexual experiences with other men. They have been married for 10.5 years, but have recently entered into terms of "negotiated infidelity." Pandora;s stories will revolve around her escalating hijinks as she is suddenly free to explore what she has been missing for the past ten years.
Hope you enjoy!
~Psyche
Please meet my newest creation, Pandora Jones. Like all of my characters, there is a little bit of me inside her. Pandora is in her young thirties with dark hair and dark eyes. She has a petite frame, belied by large, round breasts. She has a compassionate heart but a lazy tempermant. She, like me, is a school teacher.
Pandora is married to her high school sweetheart, Cory. She married quite young, thus curtailing her sexual experiences with other men. They have been married for 10.5 years, but have recently entered into terms of "negotiated infidelity." Pandora;s stories will revolve around her escalating hijinks as she is suddenly free to explore what she has been missing for the past ten years.
Hope you enjoy!
~Psyche
Pandora's Box: A Hot Wife Story
Pandora’s Box: In which I lose my Wifely Virginity
By: Psyche Summer
It all began with the kitchen sink.
And the small leak that spread like melting butter: a small puddle that pooled along the base of the cupboard until it eventually expanded into puddles on the floor, tracing the treads of the ceramic tiles until I knew it was time to call the plumber.
I don’t know if… well, maybe subconsciously…. whether the whole thing had been planned in the back of my mind or not. My husband and I had recently had “the conversation,” a talk, or series of talks, really, in which, after more than a decade of marital fidelity, we had decided to take a “time out from monogamy.” But deciding to do something and actually doing it were two different things, and so that’s why it’s hard for me to say, in truth… what was planned and what happened of its own accord.
Jayson arrived at 11:30 that morning, his tall frame stopping to get through my doorway. Jayson had been tending to our family’s plumbing needs for many years… I had always been attracted to him… to the physicality of him… his tall, lanky body, his wide, agile hands… the curlicues of dark hair winding their way up his arms…
“Alright, Mrs. Jones,” he said, following me into the kitchen “what seems to be the problem today?”
Sidestepping puddles on the floor, I open the cupboard under the sink. He squats next to me, twisting his head to peer into the dark recesses of the cabinet.
“Ahhh, see here Mrs. Jones…” he is gesturing for me to bend.
I sink down on my knees next to him, dampening the hemline of my lemony yellow skirt in an accidental puddle, shift to follow where his finger points, my large breasts shifting, knocking against each other, threatening to spill out of the too-tiny v-neck in which they are bound.
“You have a leak right here at the base” he is explaining, guiding my finger to where a slow leak of water is cresting against the cool metal… “I can use some putty… patch it up right now?” he murmurs, turning toward me, brushing up against my body, so that I fall back a little on the balls of my feet, exposing the tops of my tanned thighs against the soft, bright hue of my skirt.
Sunlight pours through my kitchen window, dousing me in its gaze, I am not wearing panties. Does he notice, did he? I wasn’t sure at the moment, but something must have happened, because right then and there he takes his hand and rubs it along the base of my ankle, following the line of my calve, up, up, up… There’s no way, it was an accident.
“So…” I respond… leaning back onto the flat of my forearms… “you can plug up my hole?” A wink, nod of assent, a not so clever pun…. Is all the permission he needs to mount my lap, stroking my hair, bending my head back, hands feeling up my shirt, unsnapping the hooks of my bra, there on my kitchen floor. I can feel my heart beatg up against my rib cage... feel the rush of excitement... mount.
I roll back onto the cold ceramic, spread my naked feet. He is lifting my shirt off of my head, pulling off the stubborn tug of my bra… letting my large, round breasts respond to the touch of his large hands, rolling them back and forth, enamored of their resiliency as they loll and bump against his playful swats. His mouth is bending down, sucking at my hard, pink nipples. His hands now reaching into the gathers of my skirt, fumbling in their folds, until he finds the wet, warm invitation of my cunt. Pressing his thumb against my rough, he spreads the lips of my labia with one hand as he unharnesses his cock with the other. I guess what they say about guys with big hands is true….
First he rubs his dick between my breasts, letting it push its way into the perimeter of my face, its tip just brushing my half-way opened lips. Squeezing my breasts together, almost to the point of pain, forming a mountainous sheath for his rock hard cock, as it threatens to saw off my neck… his gritty abdomen folds against my nose, I taste… smell the stench of his pre-cum as it dribbles onto my lips.
He is entering my pussy… my marital reserve, filling my loins with the thick of his penis, engorging my cunt with his foeign fat... it feels strange... delicious...to feel him there... shoving his strengthening dick against me... when I hear the bang of the screen door, the familiar footfalls… My legs are curled up against his torso, pushed into twin sideways “V”s when Cory enters the kitchen, my mouth twisted in the early stage of ecstasy. I can feel the throb of Jayson’s cock inside me, the thunder of my pulse as I wonder what Cory will say.
He doesn’t say a word. I am at a bad angle, can’t even tell if his face registers the shock. I hear him set his bags down with a thump. Hear Jayson pull up as Cory comes to collect me, extract me from Jayson’s embrace, grabbing me by my wrist, lifting me off the cold, wet floor. Giving my now bare ass a smack as he pushes me out of the kitchen, leading me up the stairs and into our bedroom where he pushes me, face down into the bed, my legs, dangling over the edge.
He pulls my hair back as he unzips his pants, calls me a slut as he pulls out his dick. Standing behind me, savoring the red flush of my face and of my behind as he smacks it again, with the flat of his hand as he enters me, feels my muscles in spasms around him as he lays his hands on me again, sees me writhe against the sheets I had just put on the bed this morning. He watches my dangling legs dance with each of his thrusts until the room spins, reverberating with the mixed stereo of his low groans and my high, piercing yelps… until Jayson is thundering up the steps, entering uninvited… climbing into my bed to arrest his desire… filling my mouth with his unsatisfaction, his hot, vein-y cock cutting off the thrill of my screaming, muffled in its enormity, while behind me my husband is pushing… so hard, so far… his fingers pressed into the soft core of my flesh as he forces his way into the narrow furthest reaches of my cunt, his excitement driving him to extremes…
My body is stretched between them… feels like it is going to be ripped in two. Behind me, my husband’s fingers probe my ass as his dick wreaks savage on my cunt, the dull ache of his first thrusts giving way to the all out, lungs-exploding passion of my orgasm. And in front of me, I am blinded by pubis, the thick, dark hairs, matted against his pelvic bone, the hard smack as he rockets against my face, the damp smell of sweat and dirty water… mix, mingle, blur in my mind… my body is twitching… pushed and pulled between their fevered touch. Until one after the other they cum, jetting their cream into my body, one then the other, filling my face, my pussy with the spent of their stamina, their salty seed dribbling out of my open mouth and down the length of my thighs.
Cory wipes his hands in the smear of his stain, running it through my dark hair, strung with fine lines of copper. Jayson, following his lead, does the same, running long fingers against my chin, catching droplets of his cum, running his fingers through my tresses, until my hair is mangled stiff with the mingled juices of their bodies… as the sighs that have racked my body slowly subside…. as the time clock beckons and the men rise to their feet, one by one leaving my room. I hear their footfalls on the steps, indistinct words… the opening and closing of the door, the start of engines… until I am alone…
My wifely virginity taken, I am alone now with my Pandora’s box: my mind is racing… the plumber, the butcher, the lawyer…. His best friend Mike, our neighbor Frank…. As I get up to shower, to wash the twin shots of cum out of my hair, I see the next few years of my life unfold before me… I am ready for the ride.
For: Eammon
By: Psyche Summer
It all began with the kitchen sink.
And the small leak that spread like melting butter: a small puddle that pooled along the base of the cupboard until it eventually expanded into puddles on the floor, tracing the treads of the ceramic tiles until I knew it was time to call the plumber.
I don’t know if… well, maybe subconsciously…. whether the whole thing had been planned in the back of my mind or not. My husband and I had recently had “the conversation,” a talk, or series of talks, really, in which, after more than a decade of marital fidelity, we had decided to take a “time out from monogamy.” But deciding to do something and actually doing it were two different things, and so that’s why it’s hard for me to say, in truth… what was planned and what happened of its own accord.
Jayson arrived at 11:30 that morning, his tall frame stopping to get through my doorway. Jayson had been tending to our family’s plumbing needs for many years… I had always been attracted to him… to the physicality of him… his tall, lanky body, his wide, agile hands… the curlicues of dark hair winding their way up his arms…
“Alright, Mrs. Jones,” he said, following me into the kitchen “what seems to be the problem today?”
Sidestepping puddles on the floor, I open the cupboard under the sink. He squats next to me, twisting his head to peer into the dark recesses of the cabinet.
“Ahhh, see here Mrs. Jones…” he is gesturing for me to bend.
I sink down on my knees next to him, dampening the hemline of my lemony yellow skirt in an accidental puddle, shift to follow where his finger points, my large breasts shifting, knocking against each other, threatening to spill out of the too-tiny v-neck in which they are bound.
“You have a leak right here at the base” he is explaining, guiding my finger to where a slow leak of water is cresting against the cool metal… “I can use some putty… patch it up right now?” he murmurs, turning toward me, brushing up against my body, so that I fall back a little on the balls of my feet, exposing the tops of my tanned thighs against the soft, bright hue of my skirt.
Sunlight pours through my kitchen window, dousing me in its gaze, I am not wearing panties. Does he notice, did he? I wasn’t sure at the moment, but something must have happened, because right then and there he takes his hand and rubs it along the base of my ankle, following the line of my calve, up, up, up… There’s no way, it was an accident.
“So…” I respond… leaning back onto the flat of my forearms… “you can plug up my hole?” A wink, nod of assent, a not so clever pun…. Is all the permission he needs to mount my lap, stroking my hair, bending my head back, hands feeling up my shirt, unsnapping the hooks of my bra, there on my kitchen floor. I can feel my heart beatg up against my rib cage... feel the rush of excitement... mount.
I roll back onto the cold ceramic, spread my naked feet. He is lifting my shirt off of my head, pulling off the stubborn tug of my bra… letting my large, round breasts respond to the touch of his large hands, rolling them back and forth, enamored of their resiliency as they loll and bump against his playful swats. His mouth is bending down, sucking at my hard, pink nipples. His hands now reaching into the gathers of my skirt, fumbling in their folds, until he finds the wet, warm invitation of my cunt. Pressing his thumb against my rough, he spreads the lips of my labia with one hand as he unharnesses his cock with the other. I guess what they say about guys with big hands is true….
First he rubs his dick between my breasts, letting it push its way into the perimeter of my face, its tip just brushing my half-way opened lips. Squeezing my breasts together, almost to the point of pain, forming a mountainous sheath for his rock hard cock, as it threatens to saw off my neck… his gritty abdomen folds against my nose, I taste… smell the stench of his pre-cum as it dribbles onto my lips.
He is entering my pussy… my marital reserve, filling my loins with the thick of his penis, engorging my cunt with his foeign fat... it feels strange... delicious...to feel him there... shoving his strengthening dick against me... when I hear the bang of the screen door, the familiar footfalls… My legs are curled up against his torso, pushed into twin sideways “V”s when Cory enters the kitchen, my mouth twisted in the early stage of ecstasy. I can feel the throb of Jayson’s cock inside me, the thunder of my pulse as I wonder what Cory will say.
He doesn’t say a word. I am at a bad angle, can’t even tell if his face registers the shock. I hear him set his bags down with a thump. Hear Jayson pull up as Cory comes to collect me, extract me from Jayson’s embrace, grabbing me by my wrist, lifting me off the cold, wet floor. Giving my now bare ass a smack as he pushes me out of the kitchen, leading me up the stairs and into our bedroom where he pushes me, face down into the bed, my legs, dangling over the edge.
He pulls my hair back as he unzips his pants, calls me a slut as he pulls out his dick. Standing behind me, savoring the red flush of my face and of my behind as he smacks it again, with the flat of his hand as he enters me, feels my muscles in spasms around him as he lays his hands on me again, sees me writhe against the sheets I had just put on the bed this morning. He watches my dangling legs dance with each of his thrusts until the room spins, reverberating with the mixed stereo of his low groans and my high, piercing yelps… until Jayson is thundering up the steps, entering uninvited… climbing into my bed to arrest his desire… filling my mouth with his unsatisfaction, his hot, vein-y cock cutting off the thrill of my screaming, muffled in its enormity, while behind me my husband is pushing… so hard, so far… his fingers pressed into the soft core of my flesh as he forces his way into the narrow furthest reaches of my cunt, his excitement driving him to extremes…
My body is stretched between them… feels like it is going to be ripped in two. Behind me, my husband’s fingers probe my ass as his dick wreaks savage on my cunt, the dull ache of his first thrusts giving way to the all out, lungs-exploding passion of my orgasm. And in front of me, I am blinded by pubis, the thick, dark hairs, matted against his pelvic bone, the hard smack as he rockets against my face, the damp smell of sweat and dirty water… mix, mingle, blur in my mind… my body is twitching… pushed and pulled between their fevered touch. Until one after the other they cum, jetting their cream into my body, one then the other, filling my face, my pussy with the spent of their stamina, their salty seed dribbling out of my open mouth and down the length of my thighs.
Cory wipes his hands in the smear of his stain, running it through my dark hair, strung with fine lines of copper. Jayson, following his lead, does the same, running long fingers against my chin, catching droplets of his cum, running his fingers through my tresses, until my hair is mangled stiff with the mingled juices of their bodies… as the sighs that have racked my body slowly subside…. as the time clock beckons and the men rise to their feet, one by one leaving my room. I hear their footfalls on the steps, indistinct words… the opening and closing of the door, the start of engines… until I am alone…
My wifely virginity taken, I am alone now with my Pandora’s box: my mind is racing… the plumber, the butcher, the lawyer…. His best friend Mike, our neighbor Frank…. As I get up to shower, to wash the twin shots of cum out of my hair, I see the next few years of my life unfold before me… I am ready for the ride.
For: Eammon
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
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