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                                  Andrew Roller Presents
                              NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
                                                 in 
                                         DESIRE ISLE

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                                         Chapter One

         Melanie and Kimberly sluiced through the white powder.  The chill 
wind cut into their faces and blew their long locks out behind them in 
invitation to every male on the slope.  Melanie wriggled her hips and her 
skis shot first one way, then the next, in a quick series of neat little 
curves.  Let her step sister top that!  It was unlikely, however, that the 
males coming down the snow covered hill behind her admired the 
proficiency of her skiing as much as the jiggling curves of her bottom.
         One male who's eye was caught by Melanie was a man who had the 
money and influence to act on his ambition.  Unlike the ski bums heading 
downhill around him, this man owned a large chateau in the snow laden 
country and used his visits to the commercial slopes primarily to 
entertain his sexual interests.  Beside him skied a demure woman of 31 
whom most men his age might have considered young, but which he 
regarded as, to use his term, "an older woman."  Her breasts were still 
firm and her tummy flat, her pussy still the nest of tight desire that any 
48-year-old executive would have gladly traded three wives for.  The man, 
who sported the French title of Comte Maison D'etry, or Martin to his 
familiars, glanced over at the woman.  It would be her job to procure 
Melanie for him.
         Martin regarded the bottom of Kimberly as she too executed a quick 
series of little turns in the snow, going abruptly northeast, then 
northwest, then northeast and northwest again.  Her bottom almost 
waggled salaciously as she executed the moves.  Martin expelled his 
breath slowly.  The conquest of the brunette was another addition he 
would want to make to his list of sexual achievements.
         Maria glanced over at Martin.  He nodded.  The woman knew his 
proclivities.  Young, barely 18 (younger in France), and well endowed in 
both face and figure.  Only the girls' visages were left to be evaluated.  
Then Martin would have Maria make her move.
         At the bottom of the slope Martin managed to maneuver himself and 
Maria up behind the girls as they waited for the lift back up.  The girls 
proved to be as cute as he had hoped.  Both had elfin noses surmounted by 
large, deep eyes, bordered by blushing cheeks.  Red lips glossed with 
sunscreen almost begged to suck cock.  The girls were ebullient and soon 
Martin and Maria had them engaged in a pleasant conversation.
         As it turned out, Martin's competition had gotten the girls first.  
They spoke happily of their chance encounter (as they saw it) with a 
lovely woman who had made their acquaintance and invited them to a party 
the night following.  
         "Oh, how lovely!"  Maria gushed, not showing her dismay.  "Martin and 
I are scheduled for that same event.  Lady Burgess does throw such fine 
soirees.  I'm sure we shall all have an absolutely wonderful time!"  At this 
point Martin decorously excused himself.  Despite the pleasures he had 
enjoyed courtesy of "Lady" Burgess, he did not need to hear her purported 
virtues spun out yet again.  He knew, in any event, that Maria would ply the 
girls best if he were not present.  
         "Got to go to Denver, dearest," Martin announced, and pecked his 
Maria on the cheek.  He bid farewell to each of the girls and trotted off 
through the snow.  He could almost hear the conversation he had left 
turning to him as he retreated.  Well, Maria would serve the ingenues the 
standard lines.  Later they might find out the real essence of their 
relationship, after their charms had been given a full exploration by 
Martin and his associates.  "Lady" Burgess drifted through his mind.   A 
common French whore, she had eventually insinuated her terrific body up 
to the level of Madam.  Then a wealthy businessman hired her away from 
the brothel trade to give her a higher calling, providing sexual 
entertainments for himself and his friends.  He had installed her in her 
own chateau and it was her task to discover females who might be induced 
to revel in licentious parties.  Maria kept bugging Martin to give her a 
similar license, but Martin could not afford to give her a place of her own.  
         Maria spent the rest of the day with Melanie and Kimberly.  The girls 
felt sorry for Maria, left by her lover to ski alone while he hurried off to 
attend to business.  As a result Melanie and Kimberly stuck close by Maria 
and were soon including her in all their plans.  When the night of Lady 
Burgesses' party arrived, the three of them trooped off together to attend 
it.  Martin watched from a window in Lady Burgess' chateau as Maria and 
the girls spilled from Maria's european car.  Bundled up in winter wear, the 
three females looked like three little bears.  There was one exception, 
however.  These bears had remarkably skinny legs.  Beneath the fur 
trimmed skirt of the girls' coats they were bare legged.  Columns of white 
marble transported the girls up the broad steps that led to the Chateau's 
door.
         The weather had turned decidedly brisk during the day and all three 
girls were glad to get inside.  Lady Burgess met them at the door.  A 
flowery, decollete dress gripped her substantial bosom, leaving the upper 
curves of her breasts alluringly displayed.  She was of a calm demeanor 
and, despite her height of 65 inches, an imposing stature.  The trio of 
females were greeted with an air of reserved efficiency amidst the 
flicker of candle flames.  Above a muted chandelier contributed a pool of 
light.  Martin had left his place at the window for the room in which the 
initial festivities were to obtain.
         "Gosh, it's cold out there!"  Kimberly gushed to Lady Burgess.
         "You'll be quite warm in here, I assure you," Lady Burgess smiled.  
"May I have your clothes, please?"  Both girls began unzipping their parkas.
         "I feel naughty doing this, though I suppose I shouldn't," Melanie said.  
The removal of her parka revealed her to be wearing only a bikini 
underneath.
         "Oh, I think it's sooo cool, a wintertime beach party!"  Kimberly 
gushed.  "I'm so glad you invited us, Lady Burgess.  After all, we hardly 
know you!"
         "Oh, you'll be the life of the party," Lady Burgess cooed.  She snapped 
a finger as she spoke and a stiffly attired butler appeared to take the 
girls' winter clothing.  Kimberly pulled a scarf from her neck and handed it 
to the man.  Melanie pulled off a tasseled cap.  Mittens followed, then the 
girls made to remove their boots.
         "Oh, you might consider leaving your boots on," Lady Burgess said of 
the polished sheaths of suede that just came above the girls' knees.  
"Warm air rises, you know, and sometimes the floor is a bit chilly."
         "Oh, alright!" Kimberly smiled.  The poor butler looked about to 
collapse under the load of winter wear the girls had bequeathed to him.  
Maria, now in a bikini as well, insinuated herself between Melanie and 
Kimberly and helped escort them down the hall behind Lady Burgess.
         The girls were led into an anteroom that bordered a small dance 
floor.  Settled around a bowl of punch were various people, all quite 
attractive.  The younger ones tended to be in swimwear, whilst the older 
ones seemed more likely to opt for aloha shirts or mumus.  The young 
males looked tantalizing in their little Speedo swimsuits that clutched at 
their reproductive equipment.  Some of the females wore bikini bras and 
panties that were trimmed with fur, leaving Melanie feeling slightly 
jealous.  Martin was discovered in a corner and Maria and the girls sought 
him out.  He pressed cannikins of punch into the girls' hands.  They found 
the beverage to be pleasantly spiked.
         Except for Martin, Melanie and Kimberly knew none of the men.  Or, 
for that matter, the women.  To rectify that Maria introduced the girls 
around.  Everyone seemed eager to meet them.  Unbeknownst to Melanie and 
Kimberly each of the people they spoke to identified themselves with a 
made up name.  Candelabrums placed in the vicinity of the punch bowl 
merged their light with candlestands placed along the walls.
         After a pleasant interlude of conversation a quartet of tuxedoed men 
appeared, instruments in hand.  They set up quietly at the far end of the 
dance floor and began playing.  Melanie and Kimberly were quickly invited 
by men to dance.
         Melanie felt delightfully secure and yet provocative as she danced to 
a series of light but rousing classical tunes, each with a different man.  
Beyond frosted windowpanes rolling hillocks of snow could just be made 
out in the light of a silvery moon.  Once when Melanie danced particularly 
close to a window she thought she heard the faraway howl of a lonely 
coyote.
         About an hour later Lady Burgess dismissed the musicians.  The ad 
hoc collections of couples caught their breath and began chattering.  Lady 
Burgess announced that the musicians had another engagement elsewhere, 
but that her gaming room was now open.  Melanie and Kimberly found 
themselves urged forward as the group made for a new center of activity.

Melanie was slightly taken aback when she saw what Lady Burgess had 
announced to be "her gaming room."  Instead of pinball machines or video 
consoles there were a number of settees and divans, arranged more or less 
along the room's walls.  In a clearing in the center of the room were a 
number of posts and bars, from which dangled straps and chains.  A chill 
of wonder ran up Melanie's spine.  She glanced over at Kimberly.  The girl 
had a man in each hand and suddenly, instead of looking like a modern 
Cleopatra, she looked more like Patty Hearst.  Kimberly seemed to tug at 
the hands of the men on either side of her in an attempt to break from 
their grasp.  Just moments before she had been holding their hands.  Now 
they were holding hers.
         Melanie found herself in a predicament identical to Kimberly's.  She 
tested the grip of the men's hands which held her own.  There was no 
mistaking it.  Suddenly she was being held by them, not vice versa.  
Melanie prayed she was misinterpreting what was happening to her.  She 
didn't want to call the situation wrongly and wind up looking foolish, 
especially in front of all these other dangerously pretty girls.  She did, 
after all, like the men she was with.  She would never be able to ski the 
slopes around here again if she embarrassed herself at this party.  With a 
sense of trepidation and resolution Melanie allowed herself to be led 
forward and seated on a divan.  Out of the corner of her eye she saw 
Kimberly seated in a similar fashion.  Two strong men between her white 
little body, clothed only in her bikini.
         Melanie gulped.  What had they gotten themselves into this time?  
She and Kimberly were step sisters.  Melanie was 5'9", blonde, and 18, 
with a figure any man would have killed for.  Kimberly, 5'7", russet haired, 
and 16 (almost 17, as she liked to say), was equally well endowed.  Often 
both girls could pass themselves off as 18, which is just what they had 
done with Maria.  Melanie certainly didn't want to go to a party at some 
stranger's house all by herself.  But now she felt guilty.  By letting little 
Kimberly lie about her age, she had not only gotten herself into hot water, 
but the younger step sister she was responsible for.  Then again, Melanie's 
adopted parents had told her to do everything with her younger sister.  
They didn't want either girl to go off by herself during their week alone in 
Aspen.
         Melanie screwed up her face in a pique of anger even as she sat 
imprisoned between the two men.  This unaccompanied trip to Aspen had 
been planned as her graduation present (albeit a semester early), but 
thanks to her parent's fears and little Kimberly's pleadings she had wound 
up at Aspen without her parents, all right, but with her stupid little step 
sister.  Now here they were, just as they had been many times before, 
whether kicking in watermelons or throwing mud at their elementary 
school, or swiping fake jewelry from the mall, both in trouble.  And this 
trouble seemed a lot more dangerous than any they had gotten into before.
         Lady Burgess strode to the center of the room.  It was bathed in the 
shimmering glow of a chandelier.  Beyond the couches and divans were 
shrouded in shadow.  The light falling on Lady Burgess proved quite strong, 
yet she showed only the faintest traces of wrinkles.  Lady Burgess looked 
directly at Melanie.
         "My dear, have you ever taken a test?"  Lady Burgess asked Melanie.  
The blonde gulped.
         "YÑYes," Melanie said softly.  What did the woman mean by that?  
And why ask her?
         "Well, all of my guests here have taken a little test I like to give, 
except you, of course, and Kimberly, for you are new here."  Lady Burgess 
shot a meaningful glance at Kimberly as she mentioned the brunette's 
name.  The girl looked like a frozen rabbit.  "I have watched you this 
evening, and you both seem to have had a delightful time.  Now I'm hoping 
you will provide me with a little entertainment, in the form of a test.  If 
you pass, you will certainly be welcome at all my parties.  And I shan't 
even speak of failure for I know a girl like you doesn't ever let such a 
thing enter her mind.  Maria?"  In answer to Lady Burgess' call Melanie 
found Maria at her back, her hands on the drawstring of Melanie's bikini 
bra.  A moment later, even as Melanie tested once more the grip of the men 
on her hands, her bra was loosed.  The combination of elastic and string 
which held the strapless bra in place was broken.  Melanie's breasts, 
suddenly no longer confined by the strip of nylon, seemed to spring into 
the air.  Her bikini top wafted to her knees.
         No sooner had Melanie lost her bra than Maria retrieved it to tie it 
over Melanie's mouth.  Melanie attempted to twist her head to the side but 
only succeeded in spotting Kimberly.  The female who had stripped 
Kimberly of her bra had been slightly quicker of hand.  Kimberly's bra was 
not given a chance to float to her thighs.  It was whipped off her breasts 
and tied around her mouth in a single, fluid motion.
         At this point Melanie realized she had let herself be taken too far.  
She mewed incoherent protests beneath her makeshift gag.  Kimberly, too, 
could be heard attempting to announce her renunciation of the entire 
affair.  But it was no use.  The men on either side of Melanie stood, forcing 
Melanie to her feet.   Kimberly's suddenly unwanted suitors also rose.
         With easy but uncompromising steps the two men on either side of 
Melanie walked her toward the cluster of posts.  Melanie stumbled, tried 
to drag her feet.  She felt a slap upon her bottom.  "On with you," Maria 
implored in a gentle voice dripping with the hint of tougher punishment if 
Melanie failed to obey.  Melanie heard a similar crack come to Kimberly's 
bottom.  Melanie straightened her posture.
         A moment later Melanie found herself confronted by a stout wooden 
post.  Its surface glowed with a hard sheen of polished wax.  After the 
freedom of the dancing, was this harsh encounter to be Melanie's activity 
for the coming hour?  Melanie regarded the chains hanging from the post 
with trepidation.  Their iron links looked the epitome of resolution.  Still, 
Lady Burgess had said all the pretty girls around her had undergone a 
similar experience.  Even as Melanie debated the level of her resistance 
the men proceeded unabated.  They turned her about and backed her against 
the post.  Her arms were drawn behind her and locked amidst links of 
chain.  A strap affixed to the rearward portion of the stake was slipped 
beneath each of Melanie's armpits as it was looped across her front.  
Melanie heard the click of the strap being locked in place behind her even 
as she looked down to see her ample breasts protruding lewdly from 
beneath the swath of leather.  
         "And you, David, are you not new also?" Melanie heard Lady Burgess 
say.  She looked sideways to see a young man brought forward by two 
females to a post.  She sensed fear in his eyes, yet a manly determination 
not to cower before the unknown.  He was turned and set against a post 
and a strap was pulled across his jutting chest.  Melanie looked down.  A 
second strap had been artfully wrapped across her waist, just below her 
navel.  Beyond the fur of her pubic hair still curled temptingly in scattered 
wisps above the line of her bikini panties.  Why had she dressed so 
provocatively, Melanie asked herself.  She had been asking for trouble just 
by coming to a "beach" party in the middle of winter.  And then she would 
have to wear a skimpy bikini, that left as little to the imagination as the 
amount of freedom her bonds now provided her.
         Melanie flexed her knees.  Her booted legs were still in her 
possession.  She held them tightly together.  Perhaps they only wanted to 
see her boobies, maybe even tease them a bit.  Maybe her pussy would be 
left inviolate.  A hand at Melanie's ankle told her otherwise.  
         Melanie gritted her teeth and locked her knees.  But there was no 
denying the muscled will of the men at her ankles.  Biceps flexing in a 
manner that would have sent hot flashes through Melanie in any other 
circumstances, the men lifted Melanie's feet about six inches off the 
ground and placed them on blocks of wood that jutted in a broad vee off 
the base of the pole.  Then the men firmly encased Melanie's ankles in 
chains and locked them to the pole.  Chains around the extremities of her 
thighs followed, spreading them wide and making them secure to the 
stake.  Melanie gazed down.  Her knees were slightly bent now and her feet 
splayed.  She looked up at Kimberly.  The brunette was no better off than 
she.
         Melanie allowed herself a sigh of relief as the men at her drew back.  
She watched the clenching of their taut buttocks beneath their Speedos as 
they retreated to a couch.  She had danced with those men.  She had even 
kissed one of them!  How could they treat her this way?  In any event, 
their binding of her seemed to be at an end.  Melanie twitched in her bonds.  
Small comfort.  Their work was done because she couldn't move!  Melanie 
tilted her head and gave an imperceptible thrust with her hips.  It was all 
the movement she had left to her.
         Maria untied the back of Lady Burgess' mumu.  Melanie wanted to 
gasp as she saw the dress shimmy down Lady Burgess' body.  Voluptuous 
breasts revealed themselves to her.  Below, in total nudity, her black 
pubic thatch boldly stood out against the white columns of her thighs.  
Melanie knew in her heart that if Lady Burgess was to show her pussy, 
there was no hope of her own remaining hidden.  Tears began to roll 
silently down Kimberly's cheeks.  
         "There, there," Maria said, turning to see Kimberly and patting the 
girl on the head.  Like a doggie, like a pet, Melanie remarked to herself.  
She watched as the beautiful Lady Burgess walked over to a breakfront set 
against the back wall.  With almost delicate grace she opened a cabinet 
door there.  She drew forth a riding crop.  Melanie felt her body seize up.
         Lady Burgess strolled over to Melanie, lazily swishing the crop by 
her side.  "You've been very good so far," Lady Burgess said politely to 
Melanie.  She took the girl by her chin and lifted her face.  Melanie felt 
Lady Burgess' breath come close and the woman planted a wet kiss on her 
throat.  A hand skimmed over her nipples.  Inexplicably they rose at her 
touch.  Lady Burgess' hand drifted farther south.  It touched the bow at the 
side of Melanie's panties which served to hold them in place.  So many 
bonds, yet this little one would not be permitted?  Melanie felt the 
slithering of the drawstring as Lady Burgess drew back her hand.  A 
moment later and Melanie's panties fell open.  Her eyes met those of the 
crowd, so recently strangers, who now beheld her most intimate region.  
They seemed pleased with what they saw.  They seemed eager to see yet 
more.  Melanie's remaining drawstring was undone.  Her panties dropped 
away.  She had felt the slight bulge at her back and wondered at it.  Now 
she knew its purpose.  No matter how hard she pressed against the pole, 
its slight protrusion along her back kept her from butting her bottom up 
against it.  A finger's breadth of space remained between her bottom and 
the post.  All that was needed to keep her from preventing the fall of her 
panties off her rump.
         The looped end of Lady Burgess' riding crop came to Melanie's labia 
lips.  It tickled the sparse covering of hairs there.  It pressed upward, 
threatening to enter her.  It touched her clitoris.  After several tantalizing 
rubs, Lady Burgess drew back the crop.  She lifted the looped end and 
collared each of Melanie's nipples in turn, stimulating them with gentle 
movements until they rose fully in unwanted offering.  
         "Such a pretty face," Lady Burgess murmured.  She toyed with the bra 
come gag across Melanie's lips and pulled it as low as she could without 
freeing Melanie's mouth.  Then, as Melanie watched in what seemed like 
slow motion horror, Lady Burgess lifted her crop and brought it down in a 
stinging WHACK against her cheek.  A red stripe formed itself across the 
right side of Melanie's face.  
         "Just a taste," Lady Burgess cooed.  "Of what's to come.  Before you 
cum."  With that the Lady turned on her heels and walked away.  Melanie 
felt tears welling in her eyes.  Her cheek burned.  She watched as Lady 
Burgess sashayed with menacing steps over to Kimberly.  The girl began to 
sob.  As she cried Lady Burgess undid her panties.  Then she rubbed her 
pussy.  Lady Burgess spent longer at Kimberly's labia lips, and after a bit 
the girl's sobs, perhaps unbidden, diminished.  The Lady next went to work 
on Kimberly's nipples, and the brunette gazed down with dread as the 
traitorous buds rose to present themselves to the Lady.  Then, as Kimberly 
shrieked in horror beneath her gag, Lady Burgess bent down and clasped 
one of Kimberly's nipples with her teeth.  It was only a gentle bite, 
however, and after the second had been accorded a similar salute Kimberly 
seemed more concerned with what might happen next.  Certainly her face 
was as pretty as Melanie's.  Lady Burgess gave a switch of her wrist.  A 
moment later a loud CRACK was heard as the crop landed rather severely 
across Kimberly's stomach.  At once the girl began bawling, as a red line 
formed across her tummy.  Then Lady Burgess turned to David.
         Melanie shivered with more fright for David than she had even for 
herself.  Maria came forward with a buck knife.  She put it to the front of 
David's Speedos.  Just as Melanie expected the worst, the knife was used 
instead to gently slice a line through the protective nylon that encased his 
most important body parts.  A circle was cut from the fabric, from his 
testicles upward over the bulge of his cock and back down again.  As 
Maria's knife reached the end of its journey David's equipment spilled 
forth.  Melanie drew in her breath.  He was so beautiful, yet the knife was 
so close.  But David's penis was not put under the scalpel.  Instead Maria, 
with her knife, gave way to Lady Burgess, with her crop.
         It only took a brush of Lady Burgess' crop to bring David's young cock 
to full attention.  No doubt the boy would have preferred at this moment to 
be impotent.  The Lady tickled his balls with the end of the crop, then 
stroked his penis some more.  Then she drew back her arm.  Melanie shut 
her eyes tight and heard a loud CRACK!  There was a tear running down her 
cheek when she opened her eyes once more.  But a red stripe across the top 
of David's thigh greeted her eyes.  Melanie let her breath exhale in a 
relieved gasp.  The boy's lovely cock had been spared the lash.
         Lady Burgess regarded her three prisoners.  She put a finger to her 
chin.  "Hmm, I'm afraid our guests might become a bit chilly, Maria," Lady 
Burgess remarked.  "So little clothing.  Perhaps we should ensure at least 
the comfort of their most intimate parts?"
         "Yes, Ma'am," Maria replied.  The female went to the breakfront and 
pulled forth several eight volt batteries and spools of copper wire.  
Melanie felt as if she were watching the unfolding of a script.  Kimberly 
was crying, little sobs escaping from beneath her gag.  The brunette, 
knowing an unwanted display of emotion could only bring undue attention 
to her, was doing her best to restrain her sobs.
         Maria walked up to Kimberly and spun out several loops of copper 
wire.  She attached a line of copper wire to each of the terminals of the 
battery.  Then she lifted the ends of the wires, in turn, to each of 
Kimberly's erect nipples.  Deftly she wrapped the end of a copper wire 
around one of Kimberly's nipples, then the other.  "This should keep your 
nipples warm," Maria smiled.  There was a wicked glint in her eyes.  "In 
fact, it may fairly make them sizzle."  How could she have so 
misinterpreted Maria, Melanie asked herself.
         When each of Kimberly's nipples had been attached to a battery 
terminal, via a copper wire, Maria turned to Melanie and did the same to 
her.  Melanie, tears running silently down her cheeks, watched in fear as 
Maria looped the copper about each of her nipples.  Then Maria turned to 
David.  Remorselessly she twisted the copper wire around his upstanding 
cock.  A second wire was run about the tight sac of his testicles.  The 
loops of wire were not tight, but then they were not meant to be.  It was 
what they would soon carry that was to be the entertainment.
         Melanie, however, could not figure out the purpose of the copper 
wiring.  She thought perhaps some electric dildo was yet to be hooked up.  
She studied the arrangement of the wires, trying to guess their intent.  
There was a battery in front of her.  It had two terminals.  From the first 
terminal a copper wire ran to her nipple.  The second terminal had a wire 
dangling right next to it, but not attached.  The wire ran up to Melanie's 
second nipple.  The same arrangement had been made for Kimberly.  David 
also had the same arrangement, except one of the wires ran to his cock 
whilst the other went to his balls.  
         "All ready, Lady Burgess," Maria said brightly.  
         "Not quite," Lady Burgess replied.  At once two hunky men strode 
forward.  To a look of genuine shock from Maria they grabbed her and bent 
her over a trestle.  After binding her wrists and ankles to the trestles 
legs, they took a 12 volt battery with two wires and shoved both wires up 
Maria's anus.  Lady Burgess walked over to a frightened Maria and took her 
chin in her hand.  She gazed down at the bound female.  A laugh broke from 
the Lady's lips.  She looked up, and her eyes found Martin.
         "Trying to make your little hussy play both sides of the fence, eh 
Martin?" the Lady said to him with a wicked tone in her voice.  "This 
should be you here, and next time, if there is a next time, it will be.  Only I 
shall seek out young nubile females in this region for my parties.  If you 
wish to do so, I suggest you move.  Take your hired hussy who you claim to 
be your lover to some other place.  Let her ply her trade there.  This is my 
territory."  Martin gulped visibly but said nothing.
         Lady Burgess had obtained a pair of thin black rubber gloves for 
herself and now she pulled them on.  Then the Lady took the wire that 
dangled next to the terminal of Maria's battery and connected it.  
         "AUUUUUGH!"  Maria screamed as soon as the dangling wire had been 
touched to the terminal.  Melanie flinched.  An electric current was 
passing up the wire and into Maria's rectum!  Lady Burgess was 
electrocuting Maria...via her bottom!  Maria wore no gag and her scream 
continued unabated.  Finally, as Melanie thought she smelled burning flesh 
(perhaps it was just her imagination), Lady Burgess allowed the contact to 
be broken.  A parting of her fingers and the copper wire touching the 
terminal dropped away.  Once more it dangled harmlessly.
         Lady Burgess strode over to Melanie.  The blonde looked down.  Her 
battery was smaller.  She prayed that meant the shock she would receive 
would be less than that of Maria, and in that she was right.  "Be glad you 
have a gag, darling," Lady Burgess cooed to Melanie.  "Otherwise you might 
bite out your tongue."  With that voiced expectation of gratitude, Lady 
Burgess took up the dangling wire next to Melanie's battery and touched it 
to its respective terminal.  Melanie nearly jumped right off her pole.
         The experience was, to say the least, shocking.  Melanie's head flew 
back involuntarily.  She found herself trying to grind her teeth together, 
but the gag saved her from doing that.  Her chest flew out as far as it 
could, she felt like she was Superman trying to break forth from his shirt.  
Her nipples tingled as they never had.  They were being overloaded with 
electronically induced feelings of desire, but at a voltage too strong for 
pleasure.  
         Finally, after what seemed like hours, the current suddenly shut off.  
Melanie let her head drop forward.  Her chin bumped against the uppermost 
portion of her chest and just lay there.  With glazed eyes she gazed down 
at her poor nipples.  There was no visible damage, they were still as perky 
and pink as ever.  She wondered if any female had ever gotten breast 
cancer from this deranged sexual torture.
         Kimberly was next.   She struggled in her bonds as best she could as 
Lady Burgess approached her.  She was no longer trying to restrain her 
crying.  Her chest heaved with sobs, the sound of them being dampened by 
her gag.  In her eyes, as she watched the Lady approach, there was deep 
fear.  
         Melanie squeezed shut her eyes.  She could not bear to watch her 
little friend suffer.  She listened to the apprehensive silence beyond the 
pool of light cast by the overhead chandelier.  Then, suddenly, Kimberly's 
muffled scream cut through the air.
         "My, I think I've found a cure for crying," Lady Burgess mocked.  With 
just the touch of a copper wire to a terminal Kimberly's sobs had instantly 
been cut off.  Instead she now screamed fiercely, as much as the gag 
would permit her.
         Despite her horror at the impending torture of David, Melanie could 
not keep herself from watching his suffering.  When she heard Kimberly's 
sobs returned she opened her eyes.  Sure enough, Lady Burgess was now 
turning her attention to David.  He watched with a grim, terrified visage 
as the madam touched two rubber gloved fingers to the head of his cock.  
She stroked the underside briefly to ensure he was fully erect.  Then, with 
Melanie's eyes involuntarily glued to David's lovely penis, she watched as 
the copper wire was connected.  Instantly David wrenched upward.  His 
head flew back, and would have smacked hard against the pole if the pole 
had been tall enough.  Lady Burgess gave David a good charge, then dropped 
her wire.  David, like Melanie and Kimberly, let his head fall to his chest.  
Then, slowly, like the girls, he lifted it once more.  He watched as Lady 
Burgess returned to Maria.
         "Please Ma'am, no!  Please Ma'am!" Maria begged the Lady.  But there 
was no dissuading her.
         "This time you will get not once charge but two," Lady Burgess 
smiled.  "Then, the following time, three.  After that you and each of the 
girls will enjoy the same treatment with cattle prods on your cute little 
clittys."  Lady Burgess laughed.
         The Lady was just about to apply the wire to the terminal, to torture 
Maria, when a commotion was heard.  Melanie let her fearful eyes and her 
suddenly tired neck twist to the side to watch a young woman step forth 
from between the spectators into the pool cast by the chandelier.  Melanie 
felt her breath catch in her throat.  
         Before her stood the most beautiful woman Melanie had ever seen.  If 
Playboy had done the casting for The Wizard of Oz, this female would have 
been a cinch for the Good Witch.  Long blonde hair tumbled down over her 
shoulders.   Her eyes were brilliant blue, with  both a fierceness and a 
tenderness to them.  The body which she inhabited looked as if it had been 
molded by Satan for his special pleasure, it was so tempting.  In fact, only 
God could have made a creature this perfect.  What Melanie failed to 
realize was that quite a few girls in the room, including herself and 
Kimberly, were this "Good Witch's" equal in bodily beauty.  It was the 
female's bearing which set her apart.  She had the demeanor of a mature 
40-year-old woman, yet Melanie would learn later that she was only 22.
         Lady Burgess seemed visibly troubled by the appearance of the 
woman who as yet Melanie could only refer to in her mind as "the Good 
Witch."  Even though she had yet to even hear the stunning blonde speak, 
she knew just by looking that there was goodness in her heart.  But why 
would such goodness, even radiant goodness, put fear in the heart of Lady 
Burgess?  The "Good Witch" was as vulnerably clad as anyone.  She had no 
top, and only a very skimpy white bikini bottom to protect her loins.  Her 
arms, at least, had some protection:  white fishnet mittens sheathed them 
all the way up beyond her elbows.  But the mittens lacked fingers beyond 
the first knuckle.  Perhaps this was to give "The Good Witch" a better grip 
on the black riding crop which she held in her hand.  "The Good Witch's" 
feet, too, had some protection, in the form of little white booties.  
         "Good evening, Gwendolyn, what brings you here?" Lady Burgess 
snarled at the "Good Witch."
         "Your misbehavior, as usual," Gwendolyn replied in an unruffled 
manner.  She stood facing the Lady.  Beyond Maria was sobbing, her head 
turned to both watch the wires that trailed up to her bottom and the 
potential savior in white that stood glowing in the middle of the pool cast 
by the overhead chandelier.  "I am your mother, Lady Burgess, whether you 
like it or not."
         "No you're not," Lady Burgess said with a low voice and a scowl.  "My 
mother is dead, dead in the grave where she belongs.  The fact that my 
stupid father chose to make you his second wife has no bearing on me.  
You're 20 years younger than me!"  Calmly Gwendolyn switched her crop 
against her thigh.  It looked wicked against the whiteness of her skin.
         "Perhaps if you had not run away at 12 and taken up whoring your 
mother wouldn't have died," Gwendolyn remarked.  "It's not as if your daddy 
didn't purchase all the medical care for her money could buy.  Maybe she 
just died of a broken heart."
         Lady Burgess strode slowly toward Gwendolyn at this last remark.  
Her face began to turn beet red.  Was it anger, embarrassment, both?  
Melanie wondered.  No one dared interfere, not even the beefy men that 
heretofore had seemed so eager to rush to Lady Burgess' aid.  
Dispassionately Gwendolyn undid the drawstring of her bikini panties.  
They fell to the floor, baring her loins just as the Lady's already were.  
Both females lifted their riding crops in the air as they closed.
         "Take this for interrupting my party," Lady Burgess cried, suddenly 
sweeping her crop through the air at Gwendolyn.  The stunning blonde 
caught the descending crop with her own, breaking its fall.  Then, just as 
swiftly, she dealt a searing blow to the side of Lady Burgess' thigh.  
         "OWWW!"  Lady Burgess cried, and in a fit of temper tried to deal a 
retaliatory blow.  Once again Gwendolyn was able to block the descending 
swing of the Lady and counter with a direct hit of her own, this one right 
on the Lady's sumptuous bottom.
         The next engagement, following seconds later, resulted in 
Gwendolyn's first lost.  She bit her lip and stifled a cry as the Lady's crop 
swung in successfully.  Melanie felt silent tears come to her eyes as she 
saw Gwendolyn's sweet pale skin sustain an angry red mark.  
         The offensive, however, quickly returned to Gwendolyn.  She 
advanced upon her quarry with swift, efficient strokes that served to 
drive Lady Burgess from the ring of light in the center of the room.  As the 
Lady reached the shadows beyond, the guests parting to allow her room for 
retreat, she wailed out her surrender amidst a series of crop induced 
screams.  At once her own men closed in upon her to both protect her from 
Gwendolyn's blows and, coincidentally, to prevent her from attempting to 
re-enter the fray.
         The crowd sat silent as Gwendolyn cast aside her crop and set about 
freeing poor Maria.  She drew the copper wires from Maria's bottom and 
then took to undoing Maria's bonds.  At this point several men came 
forward and offered Gwendolyn their help.  She permitted them to take 
over the loosening of the bonds while she herself hurried on to Kimberly to 
loose the copper wires from the girl.                      
         Melanie and Kimberly might have been taken aback at Lady Burgess' 
manner had it not been for their friendship with Maria.  However, since 
Lady Burgess was an acquaintance of Maria the girls refrained from 
complaint.  Soon Lady Burgess was but a figure striding industriously 
ahead of them down the hall, remote  diffident    

Chapter Two

         "Thank you so much," Melanie breathed to Gwendolyn.
         "You're welcome," Gwendolyn said softly.  She put a hand to Melanie's 
head and stroked her hair.  Gwendolyn seemed almost retiring now.  
Melanie found it hard to believe that this gentle young female had been so 
bold as to face down Lady Burgess just minutes before.  All four of them 
were still as naked as they had been in Lady Burgess' chateau.  Melanie, 
Kimberly, David and Gwendolyn were being whisked away in the back seat 
of Gwendolyn's white limousine.  Maria had been left behind, in the charge 
of Martin.  He and Maria had hustled out just behind them to escape in a 
limousine of their own.  No doubt they might be planning to make their 
first stop the office of a proctologist.  Melanie prayed poor Maria had not 
been hurt, even as she cursed the woman for betraying them.  She herself, 
and Kimberly, had come away unharmed.  David sat beside Kimberly.  The 
girl was still snivelling, even as she made to inspect his apparently 
healthy testicles and penis with her hands.  Melanie glanced over at the 
girl.  Kimberly was treating David's groin as some lost childhood teddy 
bear, as if its mere presence was somehow a security blanket for her.  The 
notion of inspecting his loins appeared to be but pretence, but Kimberly's 
attentions seemed not to bother David in the least.  He was still as hard as 
ever.
         "Ma'am, where are we going?" Melanie asked in a meek voice.  She did 
not want to risk offending the woman who had just saved her, yet she 
feared falling into the clutches of yet another dominatrix.
         "Where would you like to go?" Gwendolyn asked liltingly, still 
fondling Melanie's hair.  She felt like a little girl under the protective 
attention of her mother.
         "Home, please, um, to our hotel room," Melanie said softly, almost 
pleadingly.  Yet deep down, in her heart, she hated to part company from 
this gorgeous young woman and all her wealth, and from David.
         "And how about you, Kimberly, is the hotel where you would like to 
go as well?" Gwendolyn asked.  Kimberly made no response.  Gwendolyn 
nudged the girl, and she sat up, startled, her reverie with David's penis 
broken.  Her eyes were as wide as saucers, like a guilty child being caught 
with a forbidden cookie.  Gwendolyn realized Kimberly had no idea what 
she'd been asked.
         "Do you like David's penis?" Gwendolyn asked Kimberly.  The brunette 
blushed.  
         "He's very nice, ma'am," Kimberly whispered.
         "He has entertained me in bed all this past week, since I first met 
him on the slopes," Gwendolyn said.  "It is him I came to rescue from Lady 
Burgess.  You and Melanie were just fortunate afterthoughts."  Kimberly's 
face was deep pink now.
         "I'm sorry, ma'am, IÑI didn't realize he was yours," Kimberly 
stammered.  Gwendolyn put a tender hand to the girl's long locks.
         "Share and share alike, that's what makes the world fun to be in," 
Gwendolyn said.  She turned to Melanie.  "You certainly have been through a 
lot tonight, but do you really think walking into your hotel stark naked is 
something you wish to do?"  Melanie looked down at her own naked body, 
and her hand flew up to alight upon her nipples as a gasp caught in her 
throat.  
         "Oh!  I'd forgotten!" Melanie said.  "We've lost everything, even our 
new fur coats!  Well, they were just faux fur, but they did cost a lot!"  Out 
the corner of her eye Melanie caught for really the first time, at least in a 
meaningful way, the blizzard of snow falling just outside the limo's 
window as it sliced through the night.  Inside she was buck naked, and 
warm, yet if she concentrated she could feel the chill of the outdoors 
radiating off the window beside her.  There was no way she and Kimberly 
could go straight back to their hotel.  They would have to depend on 
somebody's generosity to get them clothes.  "IÑwe don't even have our 
room key anymore," Melanie said.  "We'd have to present ourselves at the 
front desk andÑ"  
         "You certainly were cruelly used by Lady Burgess," Gwendolyn said.  
"But that doesn't mean that I would do the same."
         "Ma'am?" Melanie asked in a little voice.  She blushed even as she 
made to make her request.  Depending on the benefaction of another 
woman, no matter how generous and beautiful, felt awkward.  "Ma'am?  
Would you please help us get some clothes?"  Melanie felt her hands clasp 
together and wring themselves.
         "We shall have to go to my Chateau," Gwendolyn said.  "All the stores 
where we might find apparel for you are closed at this hour."
         "Of course," Melanie said.  Gwendolyn leaned forward and picked up a 
small receiver that hung on the glass and leather partition in front of 
them.  "Melville?  To my chateau, please," Gwendolyn ordered the limo's 
driver.
         David spoke to Gwendolyn, his hands gesticulating as his voice made 
sounds neither Melanie nor Kimberly could understand.  Gwendolyn laughed.  
"Poor boy, I still can't understand you," Gwendolyn tittered.  "Come, let us 
exchange places, sit here between the girls," the woman urged.  David, 
unable to communicate his own thoughts, seemed at least to get the gist 
of what Gwendolyn was asking of him.  He rose and, in the spacious cabin, 
managed to exchange his own place on the bench seat with that of 
Gwendolyn's.  "The boy is apparently from Romania, or perhaps 
Czechoslovakia, or some other country," Gwendolyn explained to Melanie 
and Kimberly.  "Unfortunately, I've yet to meet anyone who can understand 
his language."
         "I certainly can't," Melanie agreed, as David settled between her and 
Kimberly.
         Gwendolyn's bare bottom felt the warmth left upon the upholstered 
bench where David's naked haunches had been sitting.  "Girls, let's have a 
bit of sport with the boy," Gwendolyn said.  "Perhaps we can teach him 
some English in the process."  Gwendolyn leaned forward and delicately 
lifted an ostrich feather from a padded compartment along the partition.  
"Look, David," Gwendolyn said with bright eyes.  The boy at least knew the 
English equivalent of his name, for he turned his head at the woman's 
beckoning.  "Feather."  Gwendolyn pointed to the silky implement she held 
twixt her fingers.  "Feather."  She pointed.
         "It's a feather, David," Kimberly said brightly.
         "Father," David said haltingly, with difficulty.  Gwendolyn passed the 
feather to Kimberly, and told her to give it to Melanie.  Then Gwendolyn 
gave Kimberly a feather of her own.  "Each of you put a hand on David's 
knees and draw them apart," Gwendolyn said.  Kimberly's eyes brightened 
as the possibilities of play that the feather could engender entered her 
mind.  Melanie, a bit hesitantly, followed Kimberly's lead.  A moment later 
and both David's knees had been pulled about as far apart as they could be, 
leaving his genitals looking very exposed indeed.
         "Show David just what properties the feather possesses, by putting 
it to him where he can feel it best," Gwendolyn told the girls.  Neither 
could resist, though Melanie heard a little voice crying "No!  No!" in the 
back of her head.  Trying to suppress giggles, both Kimberly and Melanie 
put the ends of their feathers right against David's penis.  The boy groaned.  
His sculpted chest heaved.  
         With soft, delicate strokes Melanie and Kimberly passed the airy 
feathers over David's stiff cock and swollen balls.  With each teensy 
titillation David seemed to become ever more painfully aroused.  His hands 
rose and lightly grasped each girl's mane of hair.  Yet they continued their 
salacious torment, almost oblivious to his foreign phrased protests.  
Suddenly, unexpectedly, white semen shot forth from David's penis.  Both 
girls drew back their feathers momentarily, shocked at what they had 
done.  Then, unable to resist, they put their feathers to David once more, 
tickling his loins until every last drop of his seed had been expelled.
         "Ejaculation," Gwendolyn said to David.  Panting, the boy mouthed the 
word in response as best he could.
         "Well, you girls were a bit naughtier than I'd expected," Gwendolyn 
said to Melanie and Kimberly.  The two of them looked up at the woman and 
gave sheepish smiles.  "Perhaps David would like to have a bit of fun with 
you.  David?" Gwendolyn asked the boy.  He rose from his place, thinking he 
must move once more.  Gwendolyn slipped from her place on the bench and 
pushed the boy to the floor, hands on his shoulders.  "Sit and watch," 
Gwendolyn told David.  He could only gaze at her in reply.  Melanie and 
Kimberly exchanged glances.  Here they were again, caught up in an erotic 
repast the ending of which they feared would be written by somebody else.
         "Each other," David said haltingly, pointing at Melanie and Kimberly 
while addressing Gwendolyn.  Melanie let her eyes fall upon the boy.  He 
had a perfect view of both her and Kimberly's snatches, sitting as he was 
on the floor right in front of them.  
         Gwendolyn seemed to understand what David wanted.  She snuggled 
up close to Kimberly on the seat.  "Each of you girls part your legs as wide 
as you can," Gwendolyn said.  Both Melanie and Kimberly obeyed.  They 
glanced at David.  He looked upon their pussies with eager eyes.  His 
bulging biceps rippled, like balloons that had been filled with sperm.  
         Gwendolyn cupped Kimberly's nearest knee in her palm.  She held it 
fast.  Then, with awkward sign language, she indicated to David that he 
should put a hand over Kimberly's other knee, where it touched Melanie's.  
He did.  With his remaining hand David grasped Melanie's other knee.  
         Both Melanie and Kimberly now sat with legs spread wide.  Their 
eyes met.  Here they were, going whence they knew not, with virtual 
strangers for company, their bushes fully displayed.  How did they get into 
such predicaments?  Yet their clitorises seemed to tingle with pleasure 
under nothing more than the hot gaze of David.  
         "Kimberly, make Melanie pay for what she did to David by tickling 
her clitty with your feather," Gwendolyn suggested.  Kimberly, despite 
knowing that Melanie was armed just as well as she, couldn't turn down 
such a tempting offer.  Melanie had always been the leader of the two of 
them, older, more demure, yet now she had an opportunity to make her 
friend squirm like a little girl!  At once Kimberly put her feather to 
Melanie's pussy.   She cared not if Melanie got revenge, everyone knew 
Kimberly was a squirrely little urchin, it was Melanie she wished to see 
reduced to such a state!
         Melanie retaliated with her own feather against Kimberly's clit.  
How dare that little fiend do such a thing to her?  Didn't she know they 
were in the hands of strangers?  They might be used, abused, spanked or 
chained, whatever Gwendolyn and David might wish.  They should keep 
their heads at all costs, yet here was little Kimberly joyously seeing how 
many flicks of a feather it would take to make her come!  Working as 
effectively as she could, Melanie applied her own feather to Kimberly's 
clit.  If she could make the girl come before Kimberly did her in, perhaps 
she at least could keep her head while Kimberly swooned under an orgasm.  
One of them at least should stay clear-headed!
         Unfortunately for Melanie, perhaps because of her somewhat more 
Puritan view of life, perhaps only because Kimberly had gotten a few 
seconds head start, it was Melanie who first succumbed to orgasmic 
pangs.  She bit her lip and flicked at Kimberly harder.  Tears blossomed in 
the corners of Melanie's eyes.  She stole a glance at David.  Beautiful 
David, sitting like the boy king of Israel on his haunches watching her.  
Melanie yelped and moaned.  Kimberly, the fiend, was bearing up better 
under the feather than she!
         "Ooohahhh!" Melanie swooned.  She bit her lip again and squeezed her 
eyes shut.  She cared not if her feather went astray.  Was she still tickling 
Kimberly's spot?  Was that not Kimberly's thigh her feather had fled to?  
Melanie struggled to contain the orgasm that welled up within her.  She 
must not lose this battle, she couldn't!
         "Umph!" Melanie cried, and then a long moan followed.  Her feather 
trailed aimlessly on the seat between Kimberly's thighs as an orgasm 
shook her.  She heard Kimberly giggle.  A second orgasm tore through 
Melanie, right on the heels of the first.  And a third.  Melanie threw back 
her head against the plushly upholstered seat in defeat.  She had been 
beaten fare and square, by her own best friend who was her junior, yet 
who somehow had better control of her emotions than she herself.  
Kimberly's laughter came to her ears.  Mocking, triumphant.
         "Congratulations, Kimberly," Melanie heard Gwendolyn say.  Her voice 
was charmingly unemotional, as if bestowing a motherly accolade upon 
some child at a birthday party.  
         "Do I get a prize, Ma'am?" Kimberly asked eagerly.  Melanie let her 
eyes come slowly open.  From somewhere Gwendolyn had fished out a 
riding crop.  She presented it to Kimberly.  The crop had a pink bow tied 
about its handle, at the apex.  
         "How is this for a present?  It's all I have in the car," Gwendolyn 
said.  Though Kimberly's back was turned to Melanie at the moment the 
blonde could just see the impish smile spreading across Kimberly's face.
         "Oh, my!  I've always wanted one of these, Ma'am!" Kimberly 
exclaimed.  "To use on naughty boy's bottoms...and a few bad girls too!"  
Kimberly accepted the crop and seemed to study it.  Her fingers traced its 
long, slim, hard surface; pencil thin and flexible.
         "You've never been treated badly by Melanie, have you?" Gwendolyn 
asked.  
         "Oh, quite often, ma'am," Kimberly piped up.  Melanie could feel her 
hands turning to claws, wanting to rake the snippy girl's smooth, straight 
back.  Kimberly sat straight as a school pupil eagerly offering an answer 
to the teacher.  Her bottom bulbed beneath the slim circumference of her 
waist.  
         Gwendolyn stroked Kimberly's hair.  There was tender reward in her 
eyes.  Had Kimberly given just the answer Gwendolyn sought?  "Well, you 
can now instruct Melanie on how to treat you properly, if you wish," 
Gwendolyn said with an airy chuckle in her voice.  The woman's hair was 
long and lustrous, like finely spun gold, almost white in its overall 
appearance, so Aryan was it in its aspect.  Yet perhaps in its ivory beauty 
it was not in fact the Yin to Lady Burgess' Yang.  Perhaps there was a 
touch of the Nazi in Gwendolyn.
         "I would like to very much," Kimberly said.  Did the girl not know 
that this exchange might prove to only be a prelude? Melanie wondered.  
This was only the bait, she mused, and Kimberly was foolishly taking it.  
Kimberly swung her new crop inexpertly through the still air of the limo.  
Its leather surface shone like polished brass; a wicked implement, meant 
to drive horses to a pitch of activity, yet used nowadays no doubt 
primarily upon the rumps of females!
         Gwendolyn lifted a receiver from the wall in front of her.  It was the 
walkie talkie that allowed her to talk to the driver.  She spoke in French.  
"How foolish of me," Gwendolyn said, replacing the receiver once more in a 
housing on the front wall.  "Melville reports that there are some furs in 
the storage area just behind his seat.  I should have thought to ask him 
earlier.  He, of course, should have suggested it, but senility has taken its 
toll on his mind."  Melanie felt the car pull to the side of the road.  There 
was a crunch of gravel beneath its tires.  After what seemed a rather long 
delay, with Gwendolyn providing tips to Kimberly on the use of her new 
crop, a haggard figure appeared in the swirl of snow just outside the 
limo's lefthand window.  Gwendolyn smiled and opened the door.
         "Here y'are, ma'am, I just about broke my back tryin' to get 'em out 
for you," a grey haired man said.  About 100 years ago he must have been 
quite handsome, Melanie thought, but now so many lines ran through his 
visage that he looked almost to have risen from the grave.
         "So you knew you had these all along?" Gwendolyn asked rather 
tempestuously.
         "Well, uh, I shouldn't lie, ma'am, indeed I did, I'd hoped by turning up 
the heater in the back I could keep you sufficiently warm without them," 
Melville said sheepishly.  Like a boy confessing to stolen cookies, Melanie 
thought.
         "You will be spanked when we get home," Gwendolyn said, a note of 
sternness in her voice.  "But then, that's probably just what you wanted, 
isn't it?  Hmmm?"  A twinkle seemed to come to Melville's eyes.  
         "Not me, ma'am, a spanking would interrupt my devotions to  the 
Lord," Melville said.  Though his face remained solemn Melanie found 
herself barely suppressing a laugh.  The old bastard!  How lucky he must be 
to be baring his heinie to the voluptuous Gwendolyn when other old men 
his age were confined to nursing homes, bereft even of the privilege of 
buying Playboy!  The old man shuffled quickly away, heading back to the 
front of the limo.  No doubt he would squirm with delight all the way to 
Gwendolyn's chateau.
         Gwendolyn presented a fur coat to Kimberly and wrapped her in it.  
Then she put on a fur herself.  There were no more.  "Melanie, you and David 
are out of luck, I'm afraid," Gwendolyn said.  "But there are three pairs of 
fur boots here.  David, be a gentleman and put these on Melanie."  The 
blonde might have spoken up but a love of David caught hold of her mind.  
She almost wanted to be naked for this!  David took a pair of fur boots 
from Gwendolyn and passed a hand over their tufted surface.  They were 
brand new and, somehow, looked just the right size for her, Melanie 
thought.  
         "These will protect your feet from the snow," Gwendolyn said to 
Kimberly, shoeing her in a pair of boots of her own.  At the same instant 
David leaned forward, chest muscles bulging, and offered a boot to 
Melanie.  Gingerly, ladylike, Melanie offered a small foot.  David sheathed 
her.  The boot ran all the way up to her knee.  A second followed.  Beyond, 
Kimberly in turn booted Gwendolyn.
         "Help Melanie out of the car, David," Gwendolyn instructed.  David 
considered Gwendolyn's sentence a moment, digesting it through the filter 
of his foreign mind.  Then he nodded, and firmly grasped Melanie's forearm.  
Melanie realized they must be at Gwendolyn's chateau.  She hoped the walk 
to the front door would be short.  She peered out the limo's window, but 
the virtual storm outside obscured all.  She realized she didn't even know 
where she was, and would need instructions from Gwendolyn if ever she 
were to return to her hotel.  She hoped Gwendolyn would finish clothing 
them and bundle them back home quickly.
         Outside Melanie could see no lights.  Only a fencepost, its barbed 
wire coils long since shorn away and buried under the snow.  This seemed 
a desolate land.  Nobody had passed them either way all along the road, so 
far as Melanie could remember.
         "Bind her to the post," Melanie heard Gwendolyn say behind her.  The 
command came as a shock.  Melanie made to turn but felt David grip her 
firmly.  She was pushed forward, her booted feet crunching on the snow, 
then sinking deeper as she was led down the road's slightly curving 
shoulder.  Behind her the limo's side door still stood open, exuding a 
warmth that she was now too far away to feel.  
         Melanie was in snow as high as the midpoint of her calves when 
David lifted her wrists and pressed them against the rough hewn post.  
Melanie prayed no splinters punctured her.  She kept the rest of her body 
away from the post, David seemed not to mind.  With shivering hands, 
snorting like a horse in heat, David produced a fibrous rope from 
somewhere and quickly bound Melanie's wrists to the post.  Melanie began 
to shake with the cold.  At first the warmth of the limo had still lingered 
on her skin, but now it was rapidly departing.  She felt the wind nip at her 
every succulent crevice.  Would more than that soon touch her her flesh?
         "Gwendolyn!" Melanie cried out.  She turned her blonde head to see 
two furred figured standing just beyond.  Below their knees would have 
extended bare legs, save for the boots they wore.  Melanie could barely see 
their faces.  "Kimberly, help me!" Melanie cried.  She heard an impish 
giggle.
         "Are you cold, darling?" Gwendolyn asked.  David slipped away, his 
job done.  He retreated to the womb-like limo.
         "Y-y-yes," Melanie chattered.  Her whole body seemed mummified by 
the cold now.  She wanted to cry, but feared icicles on her face.  "What are 
you doing?" Melanie screamed.  Her voice merged with the wind.  She 
prayed they would not leave her here.  Surely this must be some lurid 
joke?  Kimberly should not participate in such a dangerous farce.  Melanie 
would put the girl over her knee and spank her at the first opportunity.
         "I think your bottom will not be cold for long, at least," Gwendolyn 
called through the storm.  Her head tilted to Kimberly and Melanie saw her 
whisper to the girl.  Perhaps they were just talking normally, the wind 
blocked out all.  Kimberly strode forward.  In the darkness formed round 
her face by her hood Melanie thought she saw two eyes gleaming, 
mischievously.
         "Gwen says I should whip you, for practice," Kimberly explained.  Her 
crop swung through the air, hitting snowflakes.
         "You bitch!  Get me free from this!" Melanie swore, tugging at the 
ropes which held her fast to the stiff post.  She liked swearing not in the 
least, but if any situation were appropriate for it, this one was.
         "Only a few swats, I promise," Kimberly said not all too 
convincingly.  She drew back her new crop and brought it in against 
Melanie's bottom; swooshing through the air it came, then landing with a 
loud, biting CRAAAK!
         "Yeeow!" Melanie danced in the snow, her feet unable to rise from the 
thick white powder that suddenly served to imprison them.  Melanie's 
reaction had been delayed a moment, thanks to the extreme cold, she had 
thought for a few seconds that somehow God had spared her the hurt of the 
rod.  But then, searing like a hot iron, the crop had made itself felt.  
Melanie tugged once more at the ropes round her hands.  She was captured, 
imprisoned, both at her hands and feet.  Her legs were even a good 18 
inches apart, so off guard had she been caught by these new 
circumstances.  Try as she might, she could not wrest her feet from the 
deep packed snow.  She was helpless, and pray to her own best friend 
which now held a crop just inches from her heinie.
         "Remember when you wouldn't let me talk to that guy because you 
thought he was too old for me?" Kimberly cried across what seemed like 
furlongs of snow, but was little more than a foot.
         WHACK! came the crop again, once more making Melanie dance.  Dear 
God!  The girl was bringing up long lost injustices from their childhood!  If 
Kimberly remembered every one Melanie would not get off with less than a 
hundred lashes!
         CRACK! and WHACK! came the crop twice more, searing across the 
whiteness of Melanie heinie, leaving bright red lines in its wake.
         "Stop it!  Kimberlyyy!" Melanie begged, tears mutinously coming to 
her eyes.  She hoped, foolishly perhaps, that they might freeze right in the 
sockets, so as not to show Kimberly the extent of her hurt.
         WHACK! and WHACK! and WHACK! came the crop, as if to drive Melanie 
forward that she might uproot the very post she was tied to.  Horses were 
sometimes used in this way, beaten with the rod until the uprooted a tree 
stump.  Melanie could only dance and writhe in reply, her tender bottom 
jiggling.  Her hips were impelled forward with each blow, however, but 
then her bottom cheeks sprang back just as quickly, as if to ask for 
another hit.
         "That is enough, Kimberly, we do not wish to harm your friend, 
merely to provide her with an incentive to better control herself should 
she duel ever again with feathers," Gwendolyn said, coming forward.  She 
reached out and stayed Kimberly's hand.  David, as if on cue, sprang from 
the limo and hurried down the sloping bank along the road.  Melanie tugged 
at her bonds as David undid her ropes.  A moment later and she was free.  
Her hands flew to her bottom.  It stung at her touch.  Just as quickly, she 
brought her arms forward and wrapped them round her freezing bosoms.  
Gwendolyn grasped her by the hair, David by her shoulders.  With the force 
of David's hands providing the primary force, she was wrested from the 
snowbank into which her feet had sunk.  A moment later and the door of 
the limo loomed.  She was pressed inside and David leapt in behind her and 
slammed shut the door.
         Gwendolyn and Kimberly entered from the opposite side of the limo.  
They settled beside Melanie, faces bright.  Melanie huddled on the seat, 
face downcast, arms round her tits, bottom seemingly burning a pattern 
into the leather covering on which it was perched.  "Kimberly, take off 
your coat and loan it to your friend.  She must not be allowed to catch 
cold," Gwendolyn said in an instructional voice, as if teaching manners.
         "Yes'm," Kimberly replied, and pulled the fur garment off her little 
body.  Carefully, as if robing a favorite doll, she put it over Melanie's 
shoulders.  Melanie cared not to sluice her arms down the arms of the coat.  
She wore it as a shawl, snivelling in her pain and embarrassment at the 
cropping she had received.  The limo drew away from the roadside and 
headed down the highway.

Chapter Three

         That nobody suggested the furs be employed to obtain a key from the 
front desk of Melanie and Kimberly's hotel was not surprising.  David 
surely would not suggest such a thing, even with his limited English, for it 
might take the twin young female guests from him.  Gwendolyn seemed 
delighted with her newfound charges, and surely money could not buy her 
such wonderfully innocent playthings no matter how much she might be 
willing to spend.  Kimberly was entirely under the Svengali-like influence 
of Gwendolyn, mistaking her newfound power over her older friend as a 
permanent grant.  Melanie was too shocked by what she had undergone to 
voice any comment whatever.  She merely sat sniveling on the bench seat, 
huddled over, wrapped in the enfolding warmth of Gwendolyn's expensive 
fur, on "loan" from Kimberly.  Naked Kimberly sat beside her, attempting to 
soothe her by stroking her hair, the crop still held lightly in her other 
hand.
         A bit later the driver's voice crackled through the handset mounted 
on the front wall.  In French he announced their arrival at Gwendolyn's 
chateau.  Melanie did not look up.  She clutched her fur about her now, 
swearing to never go naked again.  It was still worn like a shawl about her 
shoulders, however.  David tugged at the coat.  Melanie gripped it tighter, 
sworn never to release it.  
         "Do not pull overmuch on Melanie's coat, David, I fear you may break 
one of her nails," came Gwendolyn's soft voice to Melanie's ears.  Melanie 
almost gave a start.  Who was this strange, beautiful, bewitching woman, 
who would tie her to a fencepost in a snowstorm and whip her but yet fear 
to break even one of Melanie's fingernails?  Melanie felt Gwendolyn's 
amazing words imbue a sense of docility in her.  Without releasing the 
coat, she allowed David to urge her from the limousine.
         Once more Melanie's feet hit the snow.  It was thin here, as if 
recently swept.  It puffed in little powdery balls as her toes kicked 
through it.  David's arm, protectively, surmounted her shoulders.  Her fur 
lined shoulders.  He led her toward a lighted entryway through endless 
swirls of snow.  Behind her Kimberly complained of the cold.  She was 
naked.  She heard Kimberly press close to Gwendolyn for comfort.
         Melville apparently served as both driver and butler.  His senile form 
lurched inside the chateau just behind the twin couples.  Slowly 
Gwendolyn unfolded Kimberly.  There was snow upon Kimberly's bare 
bosoms.  Gwendolyn swept it off with her hands.  
         Reluctantly David unbound Melanie from her grasp.  She did not 
acknowledge him.  Still the fur clung to her.  It would save her from any 
future whippings Gwendolyn and Kimberly might have in store for her.
         "Come," Gwendolyn beckoned the foursome.  "We must warm 
ourselves."  Melville, apparently knowing his aged rod was not wanted, did 
not follow.  He would get his spanking later, no doubt, in private.  Where 
his ancient spendings could not seem ridiculous before the fires of youth.  
Melanie glanced at David.  There was still snow on his shoulders, his 
chest, even the uppermost swell of his buttocks.  Nobody had bothered to 
brush it off.  Sympathetically, Melanie extended a hand as they walked.  
She brushed frozen water from his broad clavicles.  He looked at her, 
surprised.  Something in her manner told him not to advantage himself by 
her care.  He walked on as her hand flitted over his chest, burnishing it as 
she brushed its taut, sinewed surface.  Then on to a smattering of 
snowflakes on his tummy, his upper arms and, lastly, the cheeks of his 
bottom.  David looked hopefully at Melanie at this but she then withdrew 
her hand and hid it once more in her fur.  She drifted from him, putting 
another foot between them.  There was snow on the upthrust spire of his 
penis but that she dared not touch.
         Exquisite marble statues lined the long hall down which Gwendolyn 
now led them.  Bare eyed men and women stared out at them, pupils 
nonexistent but every other part of their body rendered in exacting detail.  
Each was perfectly formed, and perfectly naked.  The nipples of each 
female stuck out stiffly, unlike their Roman ancestors.  The men sported 
erections which threatened to waylay a traveller of the hall who wandered 
too close.  Certainly a tort lawyer would have insisted that the stone 
penises must go.  Melanie's eyes drifted once more to David, to his 
handsome cock.  He was just like one of the statues!  A living piece of 
walking statuary.  Whatever the problems of pollution in Eastern Europe, 
they had not dampened the growth of his muscles, including that between 
his thighs.  And she?  Was she a living statue too?  Kimberly's rolling 
bottom wandered into view on her opposite side.  Yes, even Kimberly, crop 
and all, seemed to have stepped down from one of the pedestals.
         Gwendolyn led the little group into an anteroom at the far end of 
which was a wooden door.  She swung it open.  Steam billowed forth.  It 
was a sauna, and before Melanie could draw any implications from their 
arrival at it she was already inside, prodded forward by David's penis at 
her rear.
         Gwendolyn sat upon a wooden bench and Kimberly sat down beside 
her.  Next to Kimberly Melanie plopped herself down, and beside her David.  
Gwendolyn removed her coat and hung it on a little peg.  She did not ask 
for Melanie's.  Gwendolyn put her hands on Kimberly's upper arms and 
rubbed them vigorously.  Kimberly leaned close and relished the woman's 
attention.  Was she her long lost mommie, come back to lavish all the 
wonderful things on her that Kimberly had missed being raised only by her 
daddie?  Perhaps for Kimberly, at least, she was.  Melanie had had a 
mother and felt no especial need for Gwendolyn.  David breathed hotly in 
her ear.  He was amorous.  His cock trembled just inches from the juncture 
of her thighs.  Melanie felt warm.  Very, very warm, Melanie realized, as 
the heat of the sauna enveloped her.  Her coat must come off.  Yet, no!  She 
had told herself it would never come off again...certainly not in company 
such as this!  David's hands lifted to her shoulders.  He knew her warmth.  
He offered to alleviate it for her.  Reluctantly, oh God no!  Melanie let the 
coat be lifted from her.  She knew she must try to run from the sauna, 
dodge the crop that was sure to follow, yet here was David, such a 
gentleman, so loving, so kind, perhaps eager to make up for what he did to 
her in the snow?  Up went her coat, and David turned briefly to hang it on 
the wall by the door.  His haunches never left their place next to her 
bottom, he merely twisting around, giving Melanie a perfect view of his 
finely sculpted back as he put away her coat for her.
         Melanie looked down at her parted thighs.  David's hands came once 
more to her shoulders, bare now, flesh to flesh, his breath hot in her ear.  
Melanie glanced at his own thighs.  They were parted too, his big balls 
bulging between them, apparently already refilled with sperm after she 
and Kimberly emptied them in the car with their feathers.  David followed 
her wandering eyes and took them as a hint to pull her closer.  He was 
eager to spill again.  
         Melanie let her eyes drift away from David, to Kimberly.  Her thighs 
too were spread, beyond the latitude of ladyhood, or even girlhood.  
Gwendolyn too sat with splayed legs.  Their heads were pressed together, 
as if seeking refuge from each other's shoulders.  Sweat rolled in clean, 
glistening streaks down their bodies.  Melanie realized she too was 
beading forth perspiration, and David.  She wanted to put her head on the 
shoulder of the man beside her but feared what message he would draw 
from it.  
         Kimberly looked up at her and a plot hatched in the girl's mind.  Her 
hips squirmed, as if she needed a toilet.  "Ma'am?"  Kimberly asked 
Gwendolyn.
         "Yes?" Gwendolyn replied.  Her voice was lilting, reassuring.  
         "Ma'am, I got that feather tickling me in the limo but, well," her hips 
wriggled again.  "But I never got to feel any relief from it, like Melanie 
did.  I still feel as if it's at me."  The traitor!  She wanted David's penis, or 
at least wanted to deprive Melanie of it.  Gwendolyn laughed a golden 
laugh.  Melanie put her hand to David's cock.  Just like that.  Without a 
second thought.
         "Go away!" Melanie hissed at Kimberly as, with Gwendolyn's silent 
permission, the brunette scooted close.
         "I'll hit you with my crop," Kimberly warned, raising her newly 
acquired implement.  Melanie felt rage and lunged upon the brunette.  Her 
hand grasped the wrist that held the rod.  Her other gripped Kimberly's 
shoulder in an unloving embrace.  They struggled.  Their heads twisted to 
and fro as they sought for advantage.  Their hair flew about, streaming in 
the sauna, stirring the air.  Gwendolyn laughed again.  Had she known this 
would be the outcome? 
         Melanie's might proved stronger as Kimberly felt herself pressed 
backward, down onto the bench.  Slowly Melanie's fingers worked their 
way up over Kimberly's hand, vying with her there for possession of the 
crop.  One by one Kimberly felt her fingers give way.  "Nooo!" Kimberly 
cried, but even as the last echo of the syllable left her mouth the crop was 
broken from her grasp.  Her new crop.  Her mantle of omnipotent power.  
Melanie sat up with a start and brought the crop in a quick succession of 
blows down upon Kimberly's stomach.  "EEEyah!" Kimberly cried, and 
attempted to wriggle out from underneath the rain of blows.  Finally she 
rolled away, taking hits on her thighs and the edge of her derriere as she 
did so.  She ran to the bucket of water sitting by the brazier.  She lifted it, 
threateningly.  Melanie stopped.  She could not remember whether water in 
such a container in a sauna was cold or hot.  If hot, she must not venture 
any closer.  She withdrew.  She would keep the memory of the stripes on 
Kimberly's tummy and legs as her memento of victory.  She needed no 
more.  Kimberly slithered into the protective embrace of Gwendolyn.  
Melanie retreated to David.
         The boy enfolded Melanie once more.  His grip was strong, protective.  
She had defended her right to his penis.  But now, as her hand flitted 
dangerously close to it in his close embrace of her, she wondered if she 
dared take it.  Could she let her guard down long enough in this wicked 
place to get fucked?  Who was this David, anyway, other than a handsome 
young man with an amazing pego.  Did she need any more introduction than 
that?  Her fingers alighted upon his 10 inch rod.  She could feel the blood 
pumping hotly through the blue green veins.  The tube of muscle seemed to 
welcome her touch, it grew another half inch.  
         Melanie let a little gasp catch in her throat as she trailed her 
fingers along the length of David's penis.  Just what every man wanted, no 
doubt, to have a female exclaim over his rod.  Yet Melanie couldn't help 
herself.  It was so gorgeous, so inviting...  Melanie felt herself urged 
upward.  David's hands, guiding, gripping her bottom, bringing it to rest on 
his knees.  A moment later and she was a little girl sitting in her daddy's 
lap, facing him, wanting a story, an adventure.  His cock nosed against her 
quim.  His hands eased her bottom forward along his thighs.  She felt his 
precum moisten the inner lips of her labia as his penis delved just inside.  
His thumb trailed down and her eyes followed it.  His eyes also.  He 
thumbed her clitoris.  Melanie felt her mouth fall open, as if to catch flies.  
She swooned under his touch.  Her head twisted sideways with pleasure.  
Her eyes caught sight of Kimberly and Gwendolyn.  They were kissing.  
         In drove the cockhead.  Melanie could not stop it, didn't want to.  
David's hands gripped her bottom firmly.  He wriggled forward even as his 
hands drew her closer.  His cockhead disappeared inside her cunt.  Melanie 
felt herself fall forward, lean close to her suitor.  Her hands alighted upon 
his shoulders.  She looked away, though, looked at Kimberly and Gwendolyn.  
The blonde woman's hand trailed down over Kimberly's breast to touch her 
nipple there.  It was already stiff.  Kimberly reciprocated.  Gwendolyn's 
nipple rose to her girlish touch.
         In drove the gristle, the pestle that needed to spear a young female 
in order to derive its daily pleasure.  How many girls had been skewered 
before her?  Melanie did not care.  She gushed a whoosh of breath; lips 
pursed, eyelids fluttering.  This was heaven.  Heaven it was for a girl to be 
taken by a man, to receive him in her womb, to draw forth his spouting 
sperm and grow children inside her.  Would she one day be an incubator for 
David's child?  He certainly looked as if he could sire healthy ones.  Deeper 
he drove, and Melanie felt the uppermost portion of her flat belly come to 
rest against his own.  Would he make her tummy swell one day?
         Kimberly could get no children from her pleasure.  Yet that seemed 
not to dampen in the least her enthusiasm for it.  They were French 
kissing now, Kimberly and Gwendolyn, hands alighting for the first time 
upon each other's cunnies.  Kimberly stiffened.  The first of her spendings, 
here in the steam, or was it just an initial pang of pleasure, a promise of 
more to come?  Gwendolyn seemed more reserved, as if offering to lead a 
child into the wonders of some new sport rather than being led herself.  
The door to the sauna opened.  Melanie's head flew about.  Her lips formed 
an "O" of surprise.  It was Melville, still in his tux.  
         Melanie felt herself flush.  David's penis was halfway up her now, 
but at least five inches remained unburied, remained lewdly sticking from 
her, like a carrot that wanted not the ground.  Beyond Gwendolyn, unseen 
by Melanie, looked up.  There was mist in her eyes.  Kimberly seemed 
unfazed, still lost in sapphic bliss.
         "Ma'am, visitors request to join you," Melville said simply.  A nude 
woman brushed past him, a cannikin of bubbly in her hands.  Behind her a 
man followed, naked a she.  They seemed spirited.  Gwendolyn 
acknowledged their presence with but a nod.
         "May we watch?" the woman asked Melanie and David frankly.  David 
gaped at her, no doubt caring little if the entire world watched, so long as 
it did not require him to disgorge himself from Melanie.  For her part, 
Melanie knew not what to do.  Her bliss was overcoming even her will to 
resist being put on public display.  She could only gaze, half vacantly, at 
the woman.  There was fear in her eyes, disapproval, yet not the will to 
muster resistance.  Melanie turned her head away from the intruding 
woman and buried it in David's hairy chest.  Relieved that he could 
continue, David gave a small grunt and, ape like, urged his hips forward, 
sinking another quarter inch of himself within her.
         "Look, dear, she has had a whip at her bottom," the woman cooed, as 
if in sympathy.  Melanie felt a sharp tipped nail trace itself lightly over 
her scored derriere.  
         "A crop," the man corrected.  
         "A what?" the woman asked, still grazing Melanie's bottom with the 
tips of her fingers.
         "A crop," the man repeated.  "A riding crop.  A whip leaves slightly 
different marks.  I shall have to show you some time."
         "Why, she must have done it to herself," the woman exclaimed, her 
head suddenly bobbing far enough over Melanie's far shoulder to see the 
crop she gripped in her left hand.
         "Unlikely," the man said, sipping his drink.  "Though no doubt since 
we have one here I could show you what I mean."  Melanie felt male fingers 
come to her hand that held the crop.  They wrested with her grip on the 
implement, gently but firmly.
         "Oooh!" Melanie cried, both exclaiming at David's further entry and 
protesting the man's contention with her for the crop.  In her pleasure she 
had not the strength to resist properly.  The crop was lifted from her 
grasp.
         Beyond, out of sight of Melanie, the man put his arm round his 
woman's shoulder.  She gazed fearfully at the crop, eyes bright.  Her naked 
titties jiggled, nipples upstanding.  The man seated her on a bench 
opposite Melanie and David.  Balancing the crop and his drink in one hand, 
he sipped at his champagne.  His other hand rubbed the farther shoulder of 
the woman.  "Finish your drink," the man said.  "I shall show you how the 
crop works in a few minutes, after we get to know one another better."
         Melanie could not believe her ears.  The man and woman had just met!  
Yet, for how long had she known David?  A few hours, at most.  Yet here 
she was, unthinking really of the social implications, allowing him to root 
himself in her and "Oooh!" her thoughts on morality were interrupted by 
another delectable pang of pleasure as he eased up his final inches.  Buried 
within, he began slowly to ream her.  Out he went, giving up the vaginal 
territory just won, then back up her once more, as if a rotor rooter man 
hosing out a clogged pipe.  Was her sheath clogged, by her own inhibitions? 
Melanie wondered.  Despite her sometimes salacious temperament she had 
never let a man take her this quickly.  She looked over her shoulder.  
Kimberly and Gwendolyn were enmeshed now in each other's arms, as if 
trying to melt together.  They still sat upright, though, as if unwilling to 
give themselves up to the final surrender, that would no doubt lay them 
flat upon their backs.  Each seemed desperate to press her pussy as deeply 
as possible into the pussy of the other.  They needed a penis, Melanie 
thought.  Beyond, out of sight, the man whispered gallant thoughts to the 
woman beside him, all the while twitching the crop in his hand.  Melanie 
could hear his words.
         The woman sat sipping her drink, eyes glistening, entranced by the 
man yet fearing his intentions.  With each little movement her sparkling 
nipples wiggled alluringly.  She wondered if she should have kept her bra 
on as she watched the crop in the man's hands wiggle itchily.  Between her 
thighs, just below her pubic curls, her labia lips pouted upon the wooden 
bench.  Her thighs were open, but then she crossed them, sipping her drink 
once more.
         "Uncross your legs," the man said.  The woman looked up at him, as if 
surprised, perhaps pleading for him to rescind his words.  "Your thighs, 
uncross them," the man said again, as to one who cannot hear well.  Softly 
the woman undid the crossing of her legs.  She inched her thighs apart.  
The man put his hand to one of her knees and pulled it farther from its 
twin.  "You must let the steam be absorbed by every part of your body," the 
man said by way of explanation.  The woman seemed not so bold now, 
Melanie thought, glancing backward to catch sight of her as she humped 
upon David.
         "Your pubic curls are so soft," the man complimented, running his 
fingers through the woman's thatch.  Melanie looked away.  She could 
almost guess the other female's thoughts.  Delighted with the male's slow 
attention, yet wondering what else he planned to lavish his attention on, 
and with what.
         The woman squirmed her bottom upon the hardness of the bench.  She 
would feel something much harder upon her posterior soon, she knew, and 
she liked not the thought of it.  "Kneel up upon the bench," came the man's 
words to her ears, quietly, but not brooking contradiction.  His drink was 
finished.  He put the empty glass down on the floor.
         The man rose.  The woman sat unmoving.  Beyond Melanie cried out 
her first orgasm, sounding very much like she had when the crop was 
brought to her bottom in the storm.  Kimberly too moaned out, and 
Gwendolyn.  The woman watched the prick of the man as he lifted it to the 
level of her eyes and gazed down at her, crop in hand.   "Get on the bench," 
the man said, and seized her long mane of hair.  The woman could not hope 
for deliverance any longer.  She twisted her face in dismay as roughly, but 
not too rough, just enough to ensure compliance, the man made her kneel 
upon the bench.  "Dip," the man instructed.  His hand came to the small of 
her back, pressing down.  
         Melanie rode her stallion with abandon.  She lifted her hands and 
clapped them over her ears as she heard the woman behind her mew out 
final protestations.  She did not want to hear the sound she knew must 
follow.
         CRACK!  somehow the sound of the crop penetrated Melanie's ears all 
the same.  She rode harder, faster, bouncing upon David, as if trying to 
exorcise the pain she herself had felt not so long ago under the crop.  
Beyond Kimberly, as a child at play, a spoiled child, moaned out her 
succulent spendings.  David grunted and groaned beneath Melanie, as if 
almost protesting her sudden vigor.
         CRACK! and CRACK! and CRACK! came the crop, and four more times, 
and seemingly countless times after that.  Melanie seemed driven by the 
sound of the crop.  She dropped her hands from her ears and replaced them 
on David's shoulders.  Harder, and harder she rode, as if each strike of the 
crop were driving into her own bottom.  She was a horse, a pony, a 
beautiful sorrel, and she was being made to work by her master.  Work 
until she dropped from exhaustion.
         Some time later David dismounted a bleary eyed Melanie from her.  
The boy seemed haggard, spent, but Melanie cared not.   Her little pussy 
felt warm and satisfied.  Again, so soon after the encounter in the limo.  
She felt especially good this time, though, and knew the crop had done it.  
Normally such a thing would have frightened her, but somehow, having 
taken it earlier herself, it only served to spur her on in this encounter.  
Frankly, she thought, she felt better tonight than she ever had with any 
other boy.  And despite David's loveliness, he was no better than some 
others she had had.  Melanie knew why her pussy seemed to pulse with 
utter satiation.  She gazed down at it, touched a finger to the semen 
oozing out.  The crop, yes, that wicked implement had done it.  She looked 
up and across at the sobbing woman on the opposite bench.  Her bottom 
was striped with red.  "Your pain," Melanie thought, feeling very wicked.  
"Your pain, lady, made my night!" 
Chapter Four

         Kimberly walked hand in hand from the sauna with Gwendolyn.  The 
girl seemed smug, lost in a regal reverie, Melanie thought.  And no wonder.  
The girl had now seen two older females lashed by the whip, yet her own 
bottom remained untouched.  Kimberly's hips seemed to squirm lewdly, 
swaying salaciously as she walked.  The bare derriere of Gwendolyn 
walked beside hers, also untouched.  Melanie felt a strong desire to take a 
crop to the bare rumps of both females.  Walking  lock step with David, 
closer than Gwendolyn and Kimberly were to each other, she skittered her 
hand over David's bare bottom.  He gazed down at her, and smiled.  He knew 
not that she was cooking plans to scorch him with the crop.
         Melanie knew she should leave Gwendolyn's chateau, but she feared 
raising such a subject might produce another crop, one not controlled by 
her.  Reluctantly she realized she must stay, not only because she hadn't 
the faintest idea where she was (and no phone seemed in evidence), but 
because she hoped by staying she might revenge herself on her companions.  
She longed to see their bottoms squirm beneath the crop as hers had done.  
"Two wrongs don't make a right," drifted into the back of her mind, but it 
was at once dismissed by the phrase following directly on its heels, "An 
eye for an eye."
         A few footsteps later Gwendolyn presented her companions with a 
shower stall.  It was just large enough for all four of them to fit.  Melanie 
still held Kimberly's riding crop in her hand, but judged the moment not 
right to use it.  One swish from her and, no doubt, David, beautiful lap dog 
of Gwendolyn, would be on her in a flash.  Discreetly Melanie passed a hand 
over her bottom.  It was still sore, and tender.  At the least she must wait 
until her bottom was better, lest she lose the contest with her foes and 
wind up being the recipient of a lashing rather than the deliverer.  Her 
poor bottom could stand no more tonight.
         Suddenly Melanie was hit with a spray of cold water, right on her 
heinie, as it turned out.  A general squeal arose from the foursome as all 
of them got splashed with some portion of the shower stream, just 
released by Gwendolyn.  Melanie spun about to see Gwendolyn's hand still 
on the knob that had turned on the shower.
         "Auugh!  Turn on the hot water," Melanie pleaded.  Her hands rubbed 
her bottom where the pin pricks of the shower water had stung her.
         "There isn't any," Gwendolyn laughed of the hot water.  "This shower 
is only equipped with cold!"  Melanie, and even Kimberly, made to get out 
of the infernal cubicle with its harsh stream of icicles, but David blocked 
their way.  He had evidently been in the shower before, and stood 
resolutely with the spray hitting his upper chest, running down his 
stomach to drip off the end of his cock.
         Gwendolyn danced under the devilish spray and splashed water onto 
Kimberly.  The little brunette got into the spirit of the act and splashed 
back, her body slowly acclimating itself to the chilly water.  Finally 
Melanie too could bear the stream, and even felt her skin beginning to like 
it.  The cold was a welcome contrast after the heat of the sauna.  David 
began to rub her back with his hand, massaging it.  A minute later and the 
water was off again, and all four of them stepped out, dripping wet.  
Gwendolyn folded back a latticed wood closet door and drew forth fluffy 
colored towels.  They dried each other, even Melanie losing some of her 
inhibitions as she towelled down her companions, and was rubbed dry in 
turn.  Melanie felt frisky as she worked to remove the chilled water from 
her acquaintances, and felt a glow come over her as they simultaneously 
wiped off her.  Melanie had to drop her crop to dry her companions, but 
managed to pick it back up afterward before Kimberly could take notice of 
it.
         Kimberly seemed entranced with Gwendolyn.  Melanie had never 
known the girl to harbor lesbian intentions, and still doubted that she did.  
In fact, she found it hard to imagine that Gwendolyn could be a lessie.  
More likely, they had found each other's company so exhilarating in the 
sauna that they simply did what came naturally to any two people in such 
warm, intimate surroundings.  Females were, after all, always more open 
about pleasure and tenderness than men, sharing intimacies for them was 
not necessarily a matter of declaring oneself to be gay.
         Melanie was, perhaps wisely, given a bedroom of her own by 
Gwendolyn.  Had she been bedded with Kimberly the two would no doubt 
have fallen quite quickly into a fight.  Gwendolyn bid Melanie goodnight, 
Kimberly by her side, grinning like a smug Cheshire cat.  Melanie avoided 
Kimberly's eyes as much as she could.  She would pretend she was 
downcast and humiliated until the moment when she could strike.  
         They stood in the doorway to Melanie's new bedroom, Melanie just 
inside, David and Gwendolyn and Kimberly in the hall.  "May I have my crop 
back, ma'am?" Kimberly asked Gwendolyn.  "Melanie took it from me in the 
sauna."  Melanie put up no resistance, she let Gwendolyn draw the crop 
from her fist as she kept her eyes drooping toward her feet.  "Thank you, 
ma'am," Kimberly gushed affectionately.  The little minx!  Melanie would 
teach her to thank a sadomasochistic vixen like Gwendolyn!  Deep down 
Melanie was certain that Kimberly would eventually be made a victim 
herself, just like she had been.
         It was not the first time her step sister had betrayed her, Melanie 
thought as she turned away and the bedroom door was locked behind her.  
She and Kimberly had battled over boyfriends, competed in school, vyed in 
cheerleading.  Melanie wished her mother had never married her 
stepfather.  Why couldn't she have a real sister, or none at all, instead of 
stupid little Kimberly?  Yet, her mother had remarried when she was only 
2 1/2-years-old, and Kimberly 1.  For all practical purposes, they were 
real sisters.  Melanie's earliest memory was of little Kimberly.  Perhaps it 
was from the day when Kimberly first intruded herself into her life.  
         Melanie got her first good look at the bedroom which had been given 
her for the night.  It was sumptuous, there was no doubt of that.  The sort 
of bedroom Melanie had always dreamed of having, though not, it should be 
added, in these sort of circumstances.  And it was all hers!  Only a few 
years ago had she gotten a room of her own, when she had, blooming late, 
begun to take on the aspect of a woman.  And then little Kimberly's 
breasts sprouted shortly thereafter, causing Melanie's mother to remark in 
her diffident way that perhaps a separate room for Melanie had been an 
unnecessary expense after all.
         Melanie padded over to the canopied bed and peeked inside its 
curtains.  It was fit for a princess, which Melanie had often fancied 
herself to be in her younger days.  Melanie slithered onto the coverlet and 
wriggled underneath it.  The sheets were of satin.  A moment later and she 
was sound asleep.
         Gentle tugging of Melanie's earlobe waked her.  It was Kimberly, 
kneeling nude on the bed, bathed in morning light.  Kimberly's crop was in 
her hand.  "Gwen says to come to breakfast," Kimberly announced.  "But 
bathe first, if you haven't already."
         "IÑI just came in here and fell asleep," Melanie stammered, unsure of 
where she was as the drowsiness lifted from her brain.  She felt  a great 
need to pee.  
         "That's O.K., your sheets will be changed.  Now go take a bath and 
make it quick," Kimberly said.  Finally it dawned on Melanie where she 
was.  In the house of the evil blonde woman who looked like God's favorite 
angel!  With her naughty little stepsister, who had betrayed her!  Melanie 
glowered at Kimberly.  She wanted to lunge at the girl, but Kimberly, 
perhaps reading Melanie's mind, raised her crop in warning.  Then, perhaps 
a bit gingerly, Kimberly backed herself off Melanie's bed.  "You need a bath 
because we haven't taken one since before last night, and we got all 
sweaty in the sauna.  A cold shower doesn't make up for a bath, you know," 
Kimberly said.
         "That's not what I'm mad about...taking a bath!" Melanie scowled.  
         "Behave or I'll crop your bottom again," Kimberly warned.  "I'm better 
at it now, I've been whipping Gwendolyn's furniture for practise!"  Sullenly 
Melanie rose and wrapped her arms over her breasts.  Even as she made for 
the bathroom she somehow felt lanky, svelte, and forbiddingly cool.  She 
was taller than Kimberly, her hips fuller (though some men seemed to 
relish Kimberly's boyish hips, she'd noticed), a high school graduate ready 
for college!  Let the little squirt brandish her crop!  Nothing could break 
the icy reserve that Melanie could muster when she was angry, the 
demeanor that so quickly put Kimberly in her place.  Behind her she heard 
Kimberly switch her crop through the air.  The little punk wanted to whack 
her, to break her haughtiness, but dared not.  While Melanie didn't win all 
their fights, she won enough that Kimberly had to think twice before 
taking her on, even when armed with the novel new weapon of a riding 
crop.  In the regal atmosphere known only to those who are the eldest 
children, Melanie stalked into the bathroom and shut the door. 
         Melanie heard Kimberly patter from the bedroom as she looked for a 
way to lock the doorknob.  There was none.  In any normal home this 
intimate combination of bedroom and bathroom would have been 
considered the master suite, fit only for mothers and fathers.  They had no 
need of locks to keep their ablutions from one another.
         Melanie bent over the rim of a moderately sized tub and turned on its 
tap.  Then, becoming aware once more of the pressure in her bladder, she 
went to the toilet and plopped down upon it.  She looked down between her 
legs as the first spray of pee ushered forth.  Then she put her hands to her 
bottom and rubbed the cheeks.  They felt well now.  When she was done 
peeing she rose from the toilet and went to the bathroom mirror.  She 
stood with her back to it and lifted the cheeks of her bottom with her 
palms.  They were nearly white again, with only a trace of the red lines 
which had so painfully scored them the night before.  Melanie traced a 
fingertip over the remnants of the lines.  There was hardly any sensation 
at all, save that one ordinarily felt when rubbing one's bottom.
         Melanie stepped over to the tub.  She found a bottle of bubble bath 
perched on its rim and poured in some of the contents.  She stirred the 
water with her hand until the bubbles bloomed.  Then she stepped in and 
sank with a luxurious little sigh into the fullness of the waters.
         Melanie must have drifted off to sleep for she awoke to see an 
unfamiliar man staring down at her.  Melanie gave a start and put her 
hands to her floating bosoms to cover them.  The rest of her was hidden 
beneath the bubbles, though the foam had greatly dissipated from the time 
she had first stirred it in.  In his hand the man held a short thonged 
schooling whip.  "Hello, my name is Martin," the man said easily.  He was 
dressed in formal morningwear.  Melanie felt a chill of fright run down her 
spine.  "Roll over," Martin advised.  
         "Please sir," Melanie begged.
         "Please, I wish to be gentle with you," Martin said.  "If you don't obey 
I shall have to whip your breasts instead."  Melanie's hands were over her 
breasts, but she had little doubt the big man could overpower her and lift 
her wrists high above her head, where they would be useless.  Haplessly 
Melanie rolled over in the warm, sudsy water.  "Lift up your bottom," the 
man instructed.  "Let me see it."
         Let him see it?  Melanie knew very well he wanted to do more than 
just look at her bottom!  But what could she do?  How could she escape?  
She bit her lip and, looking up at the man, raised her bottom toward him 
until the cheeks broke fully from the froth laden waters.  The man reached 
down with a gloved hand.  It was of leather.  Gently, almost tenderly, he 
touched her heinie.  He stroked it.  "Yes, you are ready for more," the man 
said.  "Although," he bent closer.  "I see two little lines still from your 
discipline last night."  Her bottom must have whitened more as she lay in 
the tub.  How long had she been here?  Melanie felt a desire to pee again.  
The room seemed brighter, as if it were mid-morning now.  
         "Finish your bath and come downstairs," the man said.  "Breakfast 
will have to be made again for you.  Your meal grew cold and had to be 
thrown out."  He turned and walked from the room.  Melanie shuddered and 
flipped back onto her back.  She wrapped her arms over her breasts.  
Somehow, some way, she had been spared the whipping!  All because of 
two little pink lines that had not faded yet.  Melanie wondered if she could 
whip herself, give herself just enough lines to prevent anyone else from 
whipping her again.  She was still thinking on this when Gwendolyn walked 
into the bathroom.
         "I've had a complaint," Gwendolyn said simply.  "About your bottom.  
Roll over and let me inspect it."  Melanie did as she was told.  Gwendolyn 
reached down and traced her bare hands over her posterior.  "Hmm, yes, 
those lines should fade by noon though," Gwendolyn said aloud to herself.
         "Ma'am?" Melanie piped up.  She wanted to call the woman a bitch but 
dared not.  "Why are you keeping me here?  I'm frightened...I want to go 
home."  Gwendolyn smiled.  It was a loving, tender smile.  Her face seemed 
to radiate goodness from underneath her cascading halo of golden hair.
         "My dear," Gwendolyn said.  "That man was Martin.  Do you remember 
him?"  Melanie didn't want to think of anything but going home, but she 
nonetheless must have used some part of her mind to attempt to answer 
Gwendolyn's question, for she suddenly realized the man who nearly 
whipped her had bumped into her on the ski slope just days before.
         "Oh!"  Melanie said, her bottom still thrusting from the water.  
"That's Martin!  Maria's lover!"
         "Yes, well, Maria only told you she was his lover.  No doubt they do 
have fun in bed, but she is really just his whore.  He employs her to find 
young girls for him to fuck.  Girls like you.  Or, rather, he used to employ 
her.  He's fired her for being so foolish at Lady Burgess' party.  She should 
have gotten you and your little stepsister safely away from there after a 
bit instead of staying and playing along with Lady Burgess'.  Apparently 
Maria was a double-whore, working for Martin but also taking money from 
Lady Burgess.  The two detest each other."
         "Lady Burgess and Martin?" Melanie asked, not really knowing why.  
Perhaps it was just to postpone any whippings Gwendolyn might have in 
store for her.  Melanie let her bottom sink beneath the waters of the tub.  
The bubbles swirled over it, like ice covered waters closing over a lost 
ship.
         "Yes," Gwendolyn replied.  "Now I have been hired by Martin to take 
his place.  As of this morning.  Normally I wouldn't have allowed you to be 
cropped so soon again after your lesson last night, but he insisted.  
Perhaps Kimberly's inexperience saved you.  She did hit you more harshly 
than I would have liked.  She has yet to develop finesse."
         "Ma'am, I still want to go home," Melanie said.  
         "All girls who stay with me long enough learn to love the crop," 
Gwendolyn protested.  "And many other fine implements as well."
         "I don't want to love the crop, or the whip," Melanie said.
         "Tell me," Gwendolyn said.  She sat her lovely bottom down on the 
rim of the tub.  She was dressed in a charcoal garter belt and black fishnet 
stockings.  She wore shiny, inky pumps.  Over-the-elbow fingerless 
mittens encased her arms.  She gave her blonde mane a toss.  "Do you love 
your stepsister?"  Melanie scrunched up her face at this question.  
         "I guess so," Melanie said tentatively. 
         "But you are angry at her for whacking your bottom last night with 
the crop, are you not?"  Gwendolyn asked.
         "Yes, and you too, ma'am," Melanie said.  Gwendolyn laughed a laugh 
like golden bells tinkling.
         "So you want to get revenge on her, don't you?" Gwendolyn asked.  "I 
know I would have, when I was still burdened with a little sister."
         "Yes," Melanie said.  "With the riding crop, if truth be told."  
         "Then you must love the crop, at least a little," Gwendolyn replied.
         "Only for punishing wrongdoers," Melanie said.  "But I've never 
actually used one."
         "Well!" Gwendolyn said.  "That can be remedied.  Would you like to 
practice a little on David's rump?  He might actually enjoy it."
         "Ma'am, I don't want any part of any of your plans," Melanie said 
boldly.  "I know if I join with you in your wicked pursuits I'll soon be the 
victim again."  Gwendolyn tittered.
         "We are all victims," Gwendolyn said.  "Slaves and masters, each in 
our turn."  She rose and walked from the room.  A moment later she 
returned with a small throw pillow.  She placed it on the rim of the tub.  
Melanie wondered at her intentions.  Suddenly, surprisingly, Gwendolyn 
stepped into the tub, without even removing her heels, which looked brand 
new and surely deserved more thoughtful care.  Gwendolyn turned her back 
to Melanie and sank down on her knees.  She bent forward, positioning the 
cushion underneath her tummy.  Her fingertips touched the tiled floor 
outside the tub.  
         Melanie gazed in wonder at Gwendolyn's sumptuous bottom.  Full, 
round, arching out to whatever might befall it.  Melanie could hardly 
believe her eyes.  Here was this woman, presenting her bottom, knowing 
full well that Melanie had just said she wanted very much to punish it.
         Martin walked into the bathroom, his voice preceding him.  "Dammit!  
That little bitch named Kimberly is hiding from me, Gwen, and she even 
threw a Poptart at me--"  Martin stopped in sudden awe.  The schooling 
whip was still in his hand, twitching idly.
         "There is no need to exert yourself, darling," Gwendolyn cooed.  "I 
very meanly had Melanie cropped last night and she is going to pay me 
back."  There was laughter in Gwendolyn's voice, but Melanie needed no 
further permission.  Kneeling up in the tub, just behind Gwendolyn, she 
brought her wet palm loudly down upon Gwendolyn's ass.
         SPLAP! Gwendolyn's cheeks quivered as Melanie's little hand 
delivered a blow.  SLAP! SPLAP! Two more blows followed, Gwendolyn 
giggling, Martin staring openmouthed.  SPLAP! SLAP! SPLAP!  Melanie hit 
Gwendolyn's exposed bottom again and again, wetting the shimmying flesh 
with her hand as she hit it, drying her hand with the heat of her blows.
         Martin unzippered himself.  He drew forth an impressive penis, 
Melanie saw out of the corner of her eye as she continued the spanking.  
Martin strode forward and, bending slightly, pressed the knob of his tool 
into Gwendolyn's oral orifice.  Between her slaps Melanie could hear 
Gwendolyn begin to slurp upon Martin's dick.  Suddenly Melanie felt evil, 
like she was participating in the very wicked scheme she had forsworn.  
Yet, here was this devilish woman's bottom, right here for her to smack as 
hard as she could.  Melanie did her best to put out of her mind what was 
taking place in front of her between Martin and Gwendolyn.  Sticking her 
tongue out of the corner of her mouth, she spanked on.
         A bit later, after Martin had come, with much loud exclamations of 
pleasure, Melanie straightened her back for the final time and dropped her 
hand.  It hurt too much for her to continue.  She panted.  Gwendolyn's 
bottom was a sea of red, on an otherwise flawlessly white body.  
Gwendolyn erected her back.  She looked over her shoulder at Melanie.  The 
18-year-old gasped, eyes meeting her own, saying nothing.
         "You do better with your hand than Kimberly does with her crop, I 
think," Gwendolyn said.  Melanie sat back on her heels, her own bottom 
sinking safely beneath the bubbled waters.  Her white breasts jutted 
forth, tipped by strawberry nipples.
         "I babysit little kids sometimes," Melanie said.  "Sometimes they 
have to be spanked."  Gwendolyn tittered.
         "Little boys, you mean?  You drop their pants and give them a 
whaling?" the woman asked.
         "And little girls too, if they're naughty," Melanie said.  "If their 
parents give permission.  I'm not a sitter much anymore, though.  I got a 
job at McDonald's."
         "McDonald's?" Gwendolyn threw back her hair and laughed as hard as 
any sophisticated woman possibly could.  "McDonald's?"  She looked over at 
Melanie through eyes slitted by humor.  Melanie began to blush.  
         "There are much better ways you could serve society than by giving 
them hamburgers," Gwendolyn said, recovering her composure.  Melanie 
became aware of the jutting of her breasts.  Too late!  Gwendolyn's 
mittened hands, still dry, came to her titties.  She cupped them firmly but 
gently, as if handling rare hothouse fruit.  "Look at these, just look at 
yourself for once!" Gwendolyn exclaimed.  With tentative eyes, more to 
guard her tits than obey Gwen, Melanie looked down at her mammaries.  
"You are an extraordinarily beautiful girl," Gwendolyn said.  "That's one of 
the reasons I whipped you, I confess, I was jealous of your beauty."
         "You?" Melanie looked up at the woman with wide eyes.  "You're the 
one who's beautiful, even if I do hate you."
         "Nonsense, darling," Gwendolyn said.  "I'm simply older.  Pretty, yes, 
even very pretty, but you're another notch above me.  Even Kimberly can't 
quite compare with you, and I think she knows it."
         "Well, I'm not going to defend stupid Kimberly's looks, though she is 
very popular at school," Melanie said.  Then, thoughtfully, "too popular.  But 
you are the most gorgeous of all."
         "Be my pupil," Gwendolyn urged.  Her eyes were bright, fierce.  "I 
want you more than any girl I've ever trained, and I've trained many that 
men would have killed for."
         "What-what do you want of me?" Melanie asked, overcome with 
curiosity.  Never in her life had she found herself in such a situation.
         "I want to do with you what it is my job to do," Gwendolyn said.  
"Train females in the art of love.  Some are ex-wives who come to me, 
hoping for a man, some are wives, sent by their husbands for lessons, 
some are college girls, hoping to go a-whoring, some, like you, are young 
girls who are captured or just wander into my life."
         "I-I don't want to be trained in-" and here her voice caught in her 
throat-"in the art of love," Melanie protested.  
         "Of course you do!" Gwendolyn hissed.  "All girls do!  They are rolled 
over and spanked by their brothers at age 10 and they love it.  At 12, or 
13, they are giving blow jobs, surrendering their virginity.  At 16 they are 
succumbing to the football team captain in the back seat of his car.  At 18 
they are partying at college, in the frat house, amidst leering boys who 
they know will rape them."
         "And then?" Melanie asked, caught up in the story, much of it a 
reprise of her own life.
         "And then," Gwendolyn took on a faraway look.  "And then some go for 
an "M-r-s." degree, others try careers.  Too many wind up with wrinkles 
and glass ceilings and failed marriages and thoughtless children.  I didn't 
want that to happen to me.  I decided to play for the rest of my life.  As a 
mistress, a madam."
         "A very fucking expensive madam," Martin, who had seated himself 
on the furred lid of the toilet, piped up.
         "You must pay for the best if you expect to get it, darling," 
Gwendolyn said over her slim shoulder, not quite meeting his eyes.  She 
looked marvelously demure, despite her dishabille, even to Melanie.
         "I'm afraid," Melanie said.  Gwendolyn turned back to her.  "A-afraid 
of being called a whore!  And of being whipped."
         "You were whipped last night, are you not better now?" Gwendolyn 
asked.  As if for emphasis her right hand slithered down Melanie's wet 
side, but did not touch her bottom after all.  It rested on the flare of her 
hip.
         "Yes, I'm better now, but it hurt very much last night," Melanie said.
         "Do you plan to have children one day?" Gwendolyn asked frankly.
         "Of course," Melanie said.  
         "And will it not hurt, and hurt extremely at the time, to give birth to 
a baby?" Gwendolyn asked.
         "So I've heard," Melanie said.
         "Yet you plan to have children all the same, don't you?" Gwendolyn 
asked.
         "Yes, I do," Melanie said.
         "And when you lost your virginity, you'd been told that would hurt 
too, weren't you?" Gwendolyn asked, pressing her point.
         "Yes," Melanie admitted.
         "But you weathered in anyway, for the pleasure it would bring you 
afterward," Gwendolyn summed up.  
         "Well, it wasn't enjoyable at all the first time, or the second either," 
Melanie protested.
         "But last night you rode David like a horse, didn't you?" Gwendolyn 
smiled.
         "Mmm, yes," Melanie admitted.
         "And the cropping?  Did not it make your bulb glow, after a while, 
glow with inner warmth?" Gwendolyn asked.
         "Yes, but it still hurt too," Melanie said.  Absently her hand went to 
her bottom and rubbed her cheeks.  Her nether cheeks.  Eventually her 
bottom had felt delicious, exuding a heat she had never felt before.  And 
she had felt delightful when she rubbed it on the satin satin sheets of her 
bed too.
         "And when you heard the other woman being beaten in the sauna, 
with your own so recently punished bottom so close to the crop, did that 
not drive you to a fever pitch of excitement, giving you more orgasms than 
you'd ever dreamed?" Gwendolyn asked.  Melanie felt very naughty talking 
about orgasms, but she silently nodded her head.  "So, you see," Gwendolyn 
replied, artfully sliding a mittened palm back to cup a cheek of Melanie's 
bottom.  "Everything in life has its place, both pain and pleasure, and 
sometimes, in the best of circumstances, they are combined; in childbirth, 
in the loss of one's virginity, and in sexual games.  You must let me teach 
you, at least for a few days!"
         "Nooo," Melanie said, but felt herself falling under the power of the 
lovely Amazon even as she spoke.  How she wanted to be like Gwendolyn!  
Svelte, lovely, yet bold and powerful, master of her own pleasure, and 
getting paid for it to boot!  Melanie thought of the long hours she had put 
in already at McDonald's.  Sweat, smelly odors, being treated rudely, all 
for a few measly dollars that could buy her little more than the gas to go 
back the next day and work again.  Was that really how she wanted to 
spend her summer?  Saving for college, sure, but what was college, really, 
but more long hours, cooped up in a library with boring books nobody but 
captive students would ever read.  An image of herself, bejeweled, 
ravishing, sinking into a canopied bed strewn with flowers flashed 
through Melanie's mind.  Beyond a man, dressed much like Martin, with 
bulging muscles, observing her, lusting for her, but getting her only if he 
paid, despite the fact that she was as attracted to him as he was to her.  
"Maybe-maybe just for a little bit, a day or two," Melanie said.
         "That's the answer I expected," Gwendolyn smiled, teeth flashing.  
"You are as smart as you are beautiful.  I only want to train you, darling.  
Whether you choose to turn your training into a professional occupation is 
up to you."
         "Okay," Melanie said softly.  She felt Gwendolyn find her hand and 
take it.  Together they rose from the tub.  Melanie suddenly caught sight of 
Martin and remembered his presence.  She shrank back slightly.  Gwendolyn 
caught her feeling.
         "Do I get to whip her now?" Martin asked bluntly, rising from the 
toilet, flagellum in his hand.
         "No, Martin, you will never lay another finger on her," Gwendolyn 
said.  "You are a pig."  The girls stepped from the tub as Gwendolyn spoke.
         "What?!" Martin cried, incredulous.  Melanie felt bolder at 
Gwendolyn's words, which even in her ears came as a shock.  She had 
rather liked Martin, despite his coarseness.  At that moment Kimberly 
appeared in the doorway.  She threw a Poptart at Martin and giggled.  There 
was a riding crop in her hand.  She made to run, hoping, apparently, that 
Martin would give chase.
         "As I said, Martin, you will never have Melanie," Gwendolyn said.  "I 
only offered her to you because I was jealous of her.  Now we are sisters.  
And we are going to put you in your place."  Melanie didn't quite know what 
to make of Gwendolyn's words, but they sounded enticing.  Could the two 
of them really gang up on this large man?  Suddenly, impishly, Kimberly 
dashed into the bathroom and wriggled her riding crop at Martin, as if to 
engage his with a sword.  Furiously, his face red, Martin lashed his whip 
down through the air.  Perhaps due to Kimberly's rapidly rising dexterity 
with the crop, the thong of the whip caught round Kimberly's crop and 
became wrapped about it.  
         At the same moment Gwendolyn rushed past Kimberly and seized 
Martin.  Melanie, taking her cue from Gwendolyn, ran at Martin too.  
Martin's pants, never fully buttoned after his forced blow job on 
Gwendolyn, fell from his hips as he raised up the hand he had been using to 
hold them round his waist.  The girls knocked him backward and his head 
hit the tank of the toilet.  The hard ceramic knocked him a blow on the 
noggin as a flower pot perched there fell theatrically onto the side of his 
head, spilling dirt, giving him another unwelcome blow.
         It did not take Martin long to recover his addled senses, but when he 
did the girls had already swiftly bound his wrists with rope.  He still 
slumped backward upon the toilet, and as he watched the girls roped his 
ankles together.
         "That's not how you tie a knot, silly," Melanie said to Kimberly.  
Gwendolyn took over and finished the work in proper form.
         "Hey!  What are you up to?" Martin bleated.
         "We ought to flush you down the toilet," Gwendolyn hissed.
         "I paid my money," Martin complained.  "And a lot of it, too."
         "I'm sorry, I've just never liked you Martin," Gwendolyn said primly.  
"I'm going to stash you in my basement for a few days while I play with 
my new friends and then, after I've sold this chateau, I'm going to go away 
where you'll never find me."
         "Cursed bitch!" Martin swore.  Gwendolyn rose and bid the girls 
follow her.  Together they padded out of the bathroom, Kimberly turning to 
stick her tongue out at Martin as she left.  "Fucking whore!  Whorrre!"  
Martin drew out the word, savoring it.  "You're all whores!  Whores from 
Hell!"
         "That's a good name," Gwendolyn said thoughtfully to the girls as 
they exited the bedroom.  "I like that!"  Melanie and Kimberly giggled.
Chapter Five

         David and the ancient chauffeur were beckoned to carry Martin down 
to the cellar.  Kimberly and Melanie walked on either side of Gwendolyn.  
During the tying of Martin Melanie had managed to pick up both the crop 
and the whip.  Only now did Kimberly realize that she was bereft of her 
wicked toy.  "Gwendolyn," Kimberly piped up.  "Make Melanie give me my 
crop back.  And the whip too.  I'm the one who got it from Martin."
         "What?" Gwendolyn asked, looking down God-like from a self-induced 
reverie.  "Oh.  No, you may only have the crop.  Melanie deserves a weapon 
too.  She helped subdue Martin."  Kimberly pouted.  Melanie, not wanting to 
be a little whiner like her stepsister, passed the crop without protest to 
Gwendolyn, who passed it on to Kimberly.  After receiving the crop 
Kimberly stuck out her tongue at Melanie.
         "Now Kimberly, you must not be so insolent," Gwendolyn said.  "Saucy 
young girls with bottoms like yours draw off men's belts rather quickly."  
         "Well, I shall never allow myself to be whipped, or even spanked," 
Kimberly said with a small grin of self-satisfaction, knowing she had 
defiled her stepsister's bottom just the previous night.  "My bottom shall 
remain inviolate."
         "Oh, yeah?" Melanie cried.  She brandished her little short-thonged 
whip.  "We'll see about that!"  Kimberly went scurrying down the hall, with 
Melanie in hot pursuit.  The nubile girls, both naked, hair flying, proved a 
breathtaking sight.  As Kimberly rounded a corner she slammed straight 
into a man in a Brooks Brothers business suit.  Melanie, just about to 
swing in with her whip, caught herself short.  Even as the man recovered 
himself from the delectable sight of the naked jailbait before him, 
Melanie managed to cover her pubic thatch with her hand.  The man's eyes 
lifted from Kimberly's chestnut locks just after Melanie had hidden her 
Venus mound beneath her fingers.
         "Oh!  Sir!" Melanie yelped.  Her white breasts jiggled nakedly, their 
cherry-tipped nipples tempting even Gods to reach down from Heaven and 
pluck them.  As Melanie's eyes drank in the exquisitely suited man before 
her one of her hands floated to her nearest tit to settle hesitantly atop it.  
Even now, only seconds into her meeting with the man, she felt suddenly 
eager to offer the fruit of her body to him.  Her fingers at her pubic hair 
wiggled, begging to be let up.
         Gwendolyn, hearing Melanie's little cry of surprise and the thud of 
Kimberly's contact, knew that her male friend for the morning must have 
arrived early.  She hastened down the hall the girls had traversed.  As she 
passed a small empty table she swept off its linen covering.  She hustled 
out behind Melanie and draped the tablecloth over her shoulders.  Melanie, 
instinctively, even as her uterus begged otherwise, drew the tablecloth 
round her.  The man smiled.  He directed his gaze back down to Kimberly, 
still in his arms.
         "Such delightful visitors you have this morning," the man said.  He 
had an imperious demeanor.
         "Yes, Earl, I met them last night at a party," Gwendolyn offered.  
"They are stepsisters.  Melanie, and Kimberly."
         "I'm Kimberly," the wide-eyed brunette in Earl's embrace offered.
         "Then you must be Melanie," Earl said, dismissing Kimberly offhand 
to focus once more on the statuesque blonde teenager.
         "Yes sir," Melanie said.  She found her eyes gazing deeply into his.
         "Well, no doubt I have interrupted you in some sport or other," Earl 
said.  His hands slipped along Kimberly's arms to suddenly grip tight  her 
limbs, just above her elbows.
         "Yes indeed sir you have," Melanie said, her breath suddenly hotter.  
She clenched her tablecloth covering with her hand, just below her navel.  
With her other hand she raised her schooling whip once more.  "Hold her, 
please sir!" Melanie begged Earl of Kimberly.  Seven-eighths of Melanie's 
boobies revealed themselves beneath the vee of the tablecloth round her 
shoulders as Melanie's whip hand came down.  At the same instant the vee 
of fabric beneath the hand which held her cloth billowed outward, giving a 
flashing, tantalizing glimpse of her pubic thatch.

CRACK! came the little whip against bare flesh.  Kimberly shouted and 
squirmed her hips violently.  Suddenly she found Earl's hard, expensively 
attired body a most unpleasant thing to be pressed up against.  CRACK! and 
CRACK! came Melanie's whip twice more, delivering small red dots to each 
cheek of Kimberly's bottom, a pleasant compliment to the delectable 
stripe which, at first contact, had been made to course fully across her 
bum.
         Melanie's work with the whip, however, despite an auspicious start, 
proved far less than professional.  As she CRACKed in additional blows, 
they seemed to snake almost everywhere, providing at best a desultory 
logic to the pattern that was forming on Kimberly's satiny young behind.  
Earl, however, despite the jumpings of the child in his arms, seemed most 
attracted to Melanie's tits and pussy.  By now the blonde's exertions had 
managed to loosen the cloth round her enough to give an exquisite view of 
her jiggling titties with every lash she laid on.  Her pubic mount, however, 
still eluded all but the most fleeting of glimpses.  Earl found his mouth 
watering for a closer, more leisurely inspection.  And he could only guess 
at the beauty of the bottom on such a girl.  
         Panting, Melanie finally cast down her whip.  It bounced once upon 
the floor, then lay still, like a snake satisfied after a substantial meal.  
Kimberly was crying into Earl's chest now, and the man pushed her back a 
few inches to protect his suit.
         "Boo!  Hoo!  Hoo!  She whipped me!" Kimberly cried, lifting her face to 
Earl's, her eyes red and her cheeks flushed.
         "Well, I'm sure you must have deserved it," Earl replied casually, 
making good use of the moment to apprise the breasts of the girl in his 
arms.  They were full, and firm, and springy.  They jiggled, begging to be 
cupped.  
         Gwendolyn stepped forward.  "Did Melville admit you?" Gwendolyn 
asked.
         "Yes.  You didn't think I climbed through the window, did you?" Earl 
asked.
         "Of course not," Gwendolyn replied.  She brushed Kimberly from 
Earl's arms and, wailing at her punishment, Kimberly sought refuge in the 
arms of Gwendolyn.  "There, there, I think you deserved that, don't you?" 
Gwendolyn asked of the little brunette.
         "Noooo!" Kimberly bawled.
         "Enough of this hollering," Gwendolyn admonished gently.  "Look, here 
comes Melville, back from the cellar."
         "May I be of assistance, ma'am?" Melville inquired, hearing his name, 
tottering up to the foursome.  Earl greeted Melville, and was acknowledged 
in turn.
         "Please take Kimberly here to her bedroom and have her dress for 
lunch," Gwendolyn said, passing the girl into his arms.  The aged man 
seemed surprised and happy at the obligation thrust upon him.  "She may 
need some oils or unguents on her heinie, too.  If so, provide them.  But 
then get her downstairs so that she may share our company."
         "Yes, ma'am!" Melville said.  He took the squirming girl as best he 
could in his embrace and led her away.
         "Melanie," Gwendolyn said, addressing the blonde.  "You too might 
want to wear something other than your birthday suit.  I slipped into your 
room last night and measured you, I hope you don't mind.  At first light I 
sent Melville out to buy clothes for you so that you might feel more at 
home here during your stay.  There are other things for you now too, 
earrings and such, the sort of accouterments no girl wishes to be without.  
Return to your room and have a look in the clothes closet and dresser.  You 
will find them there."
         "Why, thank you, ma'am," Melanie said, surprised.  The things had 
been bought for her even before she consented to stay.  Gwendolyn must 
have known her mind, known what, if persuaded rightly, she would choose 
to do.  Melanie turned and, with somewhat self-conscious steps, drawing 
her cloth more closely about her, walked round the corner and off down the 
hall.
         "Such delightful girls," Earl said, standing alone now with 
Gwendolyn.  The woman was still dressed in only her garter and stockings, 
heels and elbow-length mittens.
         "Yes, how lucky I am to have found them," Gwendolyn said, 
unselfconscious as Earl put an arm round her shoulder.  He had bedded her a 
number of times before, and her nudity before him was no longer a cause 
of humility between them.  They shuffled off toward the kitchen, trading 
blandishments, waiting for the girls' return.
         Gwendolyn had Earl take a seat at the small dining table on the 
opposite side of a formica bar which separated the kitchen from the room 
where lunches were taken.  Gwendolyn tied a diminutive white apron about 
her waist.  Quickly she put together several sandwiches, and, using a 
small machine bought for just such a purpose, made freshly squeezed 
lemonade.  Earl sat quietly in the other room, listening to the bustle of 
Gwendolyn as he flipped through a photo album.  In it were pictures of the 
various sexual adventures Gwendolyn had been involved in, with other 
girls and men.  The photos showed girls in bikinis, girls in the nude, girls 
in restraints.  In all, it was a book that would have made even a Satyr 
blush.  
         "And Melanie, what is her heinie's experience with the lash?" Earl 
asked a bit later, as he and Gwendolyn, opting for tea with their meal, 
sipped from porcelain cups.  On the table a large pitcher of lemonade 
sweated, awaiting the arrival of the girls.  A bouquet of bananas as the 
table's centerpiece kept thoughts of phalluses not far from anyone's mind.
         "Only a birching last night, by her little sister," Gwendolyn said as 
she blew steam from her tea cup prior to supping from it.
         "Ah, the birch rod," Earl said, shifting his hips at the thought of 
Melanie's near virgin bottom.
         "Well, it was with a riding crop, actually," Gwendolyn said.  "I 
rescued them from no less than Lady Burgess last night."  Earl's eyes lit 
up.  "Yes, the old witch, she was bent on torturing them.  Fortunately she 
did not get far.  The girls were quite aroused from their evening, 
harrowing though it had been, and I engaged them in a feathering of each 
other's nests, so to speak.  When Kimberly won I thought it would be 
fitting for her to have a prize, so I gave her a riding crop.  The rest flowed 
from there."
         "How engaging!" Earl breathed, adjusting his posture once more on 
his chair, obviously affected by the account.  Gwendolyn tittered and rose 
from her chair.
         "May I serve you lunch?" Gwendolyn asked, walking over to Earl, 
reaching down to take from him a bowl in which the leavings of 
minestrone soup lay.  Her hand missed the bowl and landed, not without 
purpose, betwixt Earl's thighs.  He reached up a hand to her neck and drew 
her close.  Their lips met, Gwendolyn's titties dangling in offering before 
his shirted chest.  Gwendolyn unzippered his fly.  Her fingers delved 
within.  Betwixt the manufacturer's hole in his underpants she slipped, 
finding his hardness.  She drew him forth as their mouths meshed 
together.  Then, caressing his prick, she slithered her nails down its 
underside to search the heat of his crotch for his balls.  They met her 
touch, swollen and ready.  "My, you are full today," Gwendolyn murmured.
         "Japan is a wonderful place, but I have no heart for its women," Earl 
replied.  Their lips, parting with Gwen's compliment of his balls, drew 
further away from each other.  Gwendolyn rose.  
         "How was your trip?" Gwendolyn asked brightly.  She lifted both her 
hands to her shoulders and brushed back her hair.  She looked not at the 
Priapus which stood so boldly forth from Earl's pants, pulsing its love for 
her.
         "Profitable as always," Earl said, fidgeting with a napkin lying by his 
empty bowl of soup.  A commotion was heard in the hall.  Earl, thinking 
fast, scooted his chair in a bit and draped the border of the tablecloth over 
his erection, hiding it.  Gwendolyn turned about, wide-eyed, just in time to 
see Melanie traipse into view with Kimberly at her side, a hand on the 
brunette's ear.
         "Oww!" Kimberly was protesting, squirming under her sister's 
admonitory hold.  Both were dressed in shorts, bobby sox, and, temptingly, 
muscle shirts whose hems hung no lower than the midpoint twixt their 
boobies and navels.  They had chiffon neckerchiefs round their throats.
         "Kimberly didn't want to get dressed," Melanie said.  "She was 
chasing David around, swatting him with a pillow."
         "Well, I'm glad to see Kimberly back in fine spirits, then," Gwendolyn 
said.  "Come and greet Earl, both of you."  She inserted herself between the 
girls, loosed Kimberly's ear, and, putting a hand at each of the young 
female's elbows, squired them over to Earl.  Without the least pretensions 
of modesty, Gwen lifted the border of the tablecloth, much to Earl's 
surprise.  Seeing Gwen's wont, however, he scooted back his chair a bit, to 
give the girls a clearer view of his throbbing rod.  They both gasped, 
putting a hand to each of their succulent chests.
         "Girls, each of you plant a little kiss on our guest's penis," 
Gwendolyn said without further ado.  "We do want him to feel at home 
here, and I permit no inhibitions."  Melanie would have felt mortified, save 
for the mystifying allure which the man had held for her since the moment 
she met him.   Melanie's eyes flitted at his.  She smiled softly at him, 
feeling wicked.  Then she bent forward and planted the tiniest of kisses 
right on his pee hole.  Her breasts bulged in her muscle shirt as she bent, 
threatening to spill out.
         Kimberly, surprisingly, proved a bit recalcitrant, despite the fact 
that she had been horsing around with David just moments before, both of 
them in total nudity.  A quick slap on Kimberly's bottom, however, 
reverberating right through the thin fabric of her shorts, got her bent over 
and her mouth upon Earl's rod.  Then, of course, Kimberly could not just 
kiss it, but had to begin licking it as if it were some sort of popsicle.  
         "Do not be naughty, Kimberly," Gwendolyn warned.  Reluctantly 
Kimberly ended her laving of Earl's penis and, giving it a little kiss, stood 
back up.  Gwendolyn urged both girls to turn around.
         "It may be cold outside, but it is nice and warm inside," Gwendolyn 
said.  "Are you wearing panties under your shorts?" 
         "Yes, ma'am," Kimberly answered for both girls.  "Melanie made me 
wear them."  
         "Well, then, that is enough, I think," Gwendolyn said.  She reached 
down and unbuttoned Melanie's shorts, and then smoothed them down off 
her hips.  Kimberly, apparently happy not to have to be clothed, undid her 
own shorts and wriggled out of them.  Through the gauze of Kimberly's 
panties Earl could see the weals left by Melanie's whip.  Not real weals, 
really, just exciting red lines that bespoke discipline given and received.
         "My bottom still hurts," Kimberly whined, rubbing her nether cheeks 
as she kicked her feet out of her pants.  
         "And it will for some time," Gwendolyn said, her eyes meeting Earl's.  
"Discipline is not meant to be forgotten so soon after it has been 
received."  Earl couldn't resist licking his lips as he watched little 
Kimberly rub the diaphanous fabric of her panties over her crop burnished 
bottom.  His eyes drifted to Melanie's heinie, snow white, protected by 
just the trifling fabric of her see-through undies.  He longed to bring a 
rosy hue to her cheeks, to make them match Kimberly's.
         "Tell me what you think of this girls," Gwendolyn asked.  The girls 
parted just far enough from each other as they watched to unconsciously 
permit Earl a view too.  Gwendolyn picked up a can of Reddi Wip.  She 
briefly shook it.  Then, stunningly, Gwendolyn squeezed one of her breasts 
twixt her fingers and directed the Reddi Wip right onto her areola.  When 
the first nipple had been covered in cream, leaving the rest of her breast 
untouched, Gwendolyn did her other nipple.  Then she asked the girls if 
they would like to try.  Melanie and Kimberly couldn't resist.  "Raise high 
your hands, girls," Gwendolyn said.  
         Despite her better judgement, Melanie, arms upraised, let Gwendolyn 
tug her T-shirt over her breasts.  Gwendolyn gathered the border of the 
shirt in her fingers first, constricting the remaining material.  Then she 
lifted the shirt up, the tightness of it causing the tips of Melanie's 
mammaries to jiggle violently as the hem of the shirt cleared them.  
Kimberly was next, and the disrobement of her torso proved to be just as 
sexy.  Then Gwendolyn picked up the Reddi Wip and, not touching Melanie's 
breasts, nor Melanie herself touching them either, the chilled whipped 
cream was squirted on the first of Melanie's nipples.  Melanie gasped at 
the cool sensation of the cream, all the while imagining it to be Earl's 
semen spurting over her.  The second of Melanie's teats was anointed in 
turn, and then Kimberly's.
         "Now that we have been decorated for the benefit of our guest, let us 
grace him with our presence at table," Gwendolyn suggested.  The girls 
each assumed a place, Kimberly at the head of the table, Melanie at the 
foot of it, Earl on one side, and Gwen on the other.  "Ring the bell, 
Kimberly, that we might be served," Gwen said.  Kimberly, hoping she 
might get to use the bell that sat at her place alone, eagerly picked it up.  
Melanie put her hands to her ears and Kimberly rang the bell as loudly as 
she could.
         "My, such energy," Earl said afterward, his ears ringing.
         "I do hope Melville heard it," Gwendolyn said.  "He sometimes goes 
into the study and naps."
         "I believe the Chinese heard it," Earl said, "And thought they had been 
blessed with the ringing of the Liberty Bell."
         "Shall I ring it again ma'am?" Kimberly asked with bright eyes.
         "No dear," Gwendolyn said, putting a hand softly on hers which held 
the bell.  "Give him a minute.  He is quite old, you know."  Melville tottered 
in momentarily, chest wheezing, eyes unfocused yet focused as best he 
could manage.
         "You rang, ma'am?" Melville asked.  David came in just behind him, 
sculpted body totally nude, prick upstanding.
         "Ah, well!  Have David put on a bow-tie and serve us," Gwendolyn 
said.  "I have sandwiches prepared."
         "He can have mine if he wishes, ma'am, if it will prevent delay," 
Melville offered.  Gwendolyn nodded and Melville undid his tie.  
         "Melanie, tie Melville's tie on David," Gwendolyn said as soon as the 
old man's neck was free.  "Go rest, Melville, I can see you have been 
exerting yourself too much again."
         "Thank you, ma'am," Melville said with a cough, and made off with 
uncertain steps.  Melanie rose and walked over to David.  Her cream-puff 
breasts jiggled temptingly.  David's eyes widened as he saw what she had 
done to them.  Melanie took the undone bow tie from his calloused palm 
and looped it round his neck.  Carefully, trying not to brush his bulging 
chest with her tits lest she lose her cream, Melanie made to knot the bow 
tie round David's throat.  Melanie stood on tip toe.  The head of David's 
cock wiggled right in front of her pubic curls.
         "There!" Melanie said, completing the knot in the bow tie.  She 
apprised David's appearance a moment, then swept away to return to her 
seat.  Her long blonde hair trailed behind her like a cape.
         The lunch which followed was nothing if not erotic.  The two girls 
still wore their neckerchiefs, plus large, dazzling earrings that hung 
halfway down to their shoulders.  Whipped cream surmounted their 
otherwise naked breasts.  Their hips were clad only in the most 
inconsequential of panties, while their calves, at least, were well covered 
with white bobbie sox.  The girls wore no shoes.  Gwendolyn was, of 
course, attired as mentioned before, as was Earl.  David, totally nude save 
for his bow tie, made a most enthralling waiter.  His penis frequently 
butted in uninvited as he attempted to make his rounds at the table.  
Throughout it all the diners and David remained surprisingly unaffected, 
the conversation even turning to such mundane matters as favorite ski 
slopes and problems that various operators had with their lifts. 
         "My bottom hurts sitting down," Kimberly said, interrupting the 
repast.
         "You may stand it in the corner if you mention it again," Gwendolyn 
said, forking a chef's salad which David had made to compliment their 
sandwiches.  Kimberly wriggled unhappily, partly with boredom.
         "I must be going," Earl said abruptly, wiping his mouth with a napkin.
         "Oh, so soon?" Gwendolyn asked, looking up, obviously dismayed.
         "Perhaps you would bring one of the girls by tomorrow to visit my 
office," Earl said.  Gwendolyn smiled, and gave him a knowing look.
         "Which would you prefer?" Gwendolyn asked, indicating the young 
beauties which sat with them at table.  Kimberly wrested to and fro as 
she sat in her seat, as much from ennui as any pain in her haunches.  She 
was sitting on her hands now.
         "The older, I should think, Melanie?" Earl said, casting his eyes 
toward the  blonde.  She wondered if he was asking her permission or 
merely her name.  "The other is too immature."  Kimberly sat up, a 
suddenly offended look on her face.  Melanie smiled and looked down at her 
teacup.
         "I'm not immature," Kimberly protested.
         "You are an utter child," Earl said.  "Finish your lemonade and go 
play."
         "You're not my father," Kimberly pouted, nonetheless doing his 
bidding by reaching out and taking her tall glass of lemonade with both 
hands.  She put it to her lips and sucked upon it noisily.
         "Forgive me, Gwendolyn, but everyone there knows I am unmarried 
and without children.  Melanie at least looks slightly older than her age, 
and anyway she is legal.  You are 18, are you not, my dear?"
         "Yes," Melanie said with a slight lisp.  Across the table Kimberly 
began chewing on an ice cube.
         "Well then, Melanie and I will come by your office tomorrow, then," 
Gwendolyn said.  "Have you ever been to an investment office, Melanie?"  
The girl said she had not.  "Earl oversees holdings around the world, with a 
large staff underneath him.  He has a marvelous view of the lake."
         "I should like very much to see it, ma'am," Melanie said softly.  
Anything that brought her closer to the  man her heart was yearning for 
was welcome to her.  He seemed such a gentleman, declining to partake of 
the female fruits so temptingly arrayed before him.  Melanie longed to be 
seized by him and have him breathe of his lust for her.
         "Come to my office tomorrow then, Earl said, rising.  Out of sight of 
the girls, his crotch hidden by the corner of the table, he had zipped up his 
pants.  No doubt it had been during one of Kimberly's noisy interludes.  He 
was the distinguished gentleman again, ready for an afternoon of work.  "I 
must see some accounts today," Earl said.  "But I will be in my office 
tomorrow."
         "In the morning?" Gwen asked.
         "Certainly," Earl said.  "I look forward to it."  With that he walked to 
Melanie and took her hand and kissed it.  Not the back of the hand, but the 
palm.  Melanie blushed.  Then he walked over to Kimberly, who had taken to 
making liquid trails on the table with her ice.  Earl cleared his throat and 
kissed the palm of her hand in turn.  Kimberly appeared unmoved, she 
withdrew her hand only to resume her little solitaire game.  Obviously she 
was still smarting at Earl's remark that she was a child.  Gwendolyn was 
kissed directly upon the lips by Earl, and Melanie felt herself feeling 
jealous.  Then, with a final exchange of verbal goodbyes (none being 
elicited from Kimberly), Earl took his leave of them.  The three females 
were left sitting at table, alone with nobody but themselves.  David 
showed Earl to the door.  Melanie felt bereft.
Chapter Six

         That afternoon Gwendolyn insisted on the girls getting bundled up 
and going skiing.  Earlier David had mysteriously disappeared, and the 
room where Martin was confined was locked tight, with Gwendolyn 
refusing to breathe a word about the location of its key.  Both Melanie and 
Kimberly were considerably aroused from their lunch, and seemed 
distracted as Gwendolyn made them dress and outfit themselves in the 
proper gear.  Gwendolyn smiled to herself.  There would be no resistance 
on either girl's part when it came time for them to be led to love.
         Melanie got her first real look at the Chateau's surroundings when 
the girls went outside with Gwendolyn.  Melanie blew out her breath.  It 
seemed to fog the distant trees.  All about the air was quiet and still.  A 
sun mired behind haze nonetheless cast a bright, crisp light over the hills.  
Gwen's chateau sat all by itself, with only the occasional pine for 
company.  Farther out the road that snaked within a stone's throw of the 
house disappeared amidst a line of trees.  In the distance mountains rose.   
         "Ready girls?" Gwendolyn asked.
         "Yes ma'am," Melanie said.  She wondered why she still called the 
woman "ma'am."  Kimberly sometimes called her "Gwen," but then the two 
of them had made love to each other in the sauna.  No matter, the woman 
was rich, and older than they, and, if truth be told, a madam, at least for 
the highest strata of men in society.  It wasn't a bad way to earn a living, 
really, considering most women had to marry for their comfort and 
security, or work their asses off for some corporation.  Everyone made 
their living in the way that suited them best.  Gwendolyn just seemed to 
have more fun at it than most.
         With a wriggle of her curvaceous hips Gwendolyn shoved off, skiing 
down the hillock, parallel to the road.  Kimberly kicked off behind her, 
using her poles, giving a little squeal as she just managed to miss a bare 
little sapling growing in the snow covered front lawn.  Melanie followed.
         Down through the powder they raced, picking up speed as they went, 
coming to the bottom of the first little hill only to ride on to the slope of 
a bigger one.  Melanie felt the chill air biting into her face and felt an 
exhilarating sense of freedom.  She had a woman who attended to her 
every need, and a man who seemed to love her.  And, of course, there were 
always the goings on of her little stepsister for comic relief.  
         Kimberly's bottom still burned from her whipping, though it had been 
almost entirely replaced now by a warm, bulbous glow, leaving any pain 
she felt largely to the province of her imagination.  A cacophony of little 
girl thoughts raced round in her mind, a wish for bubblegum, an wondering 
about the imminent release of a new pop idol's record, an excitement at 
being on the snow.
         Much later the girls came to rest in a little clearing.  Gwendolyn sat 
down on a stump and heaved her chest as she pulled off her tasseled cap.  
Kimberly rubbed her mittened hands together.  "Gwen, I have to go to the 
bathroom," Kimberly said.  Melanie felt the need to go to.  It was the cold.
         "Well, this should be the perfect rest spot for you, then," Gwendolyn 
said cheerily to Kimberly.  "I've often gone here myself."
         "Right here?  In the snow?  How?" Kimberly asked.  Her hips gave a 
little quiver.
         "Look," Gwendolyn pointed.  "See that tree stump?"  It was an old 
stump that had somehow lost its middle.  Either edge of the stump still 
stood, but between the two halves there was nothing.  It was rather like a 
canyon, but with no front wall or back wall and a floor made of the 
surrounding snow.  "Sit there just like you would on a chair.  Then just pull 
down your pants and pee.  The ground slopes very nicely down and away 
from the rear of the slump, so your pee will just roll backward on the 
snow, away from your feet.  You can even poop too, if you wish."  Kimberly 
seemed in no position to argue, given the constant little movements her 
hips felt obliged to render.  She walked with a slightly awkward gait over 
to the stump.  She sat down carefully and undid her pants.  Then Kimberly 
lifted her bottom slightly from the surface of the stump and pulled her 
jeans down to her knees.  She sat her bottom well back on the stump.  
Then, with a sheepish grin, she began to pee.  Melanie couldn't help 
laughing.
         "What do they call Yellowstone in winter?" Melanie asked Gwendolyn.
         "Tell me," Gwendolyn smiled.
         "Yellowsnow," Melanie laughed.
         When Kimberly was finished she self-consciously pulled up her pants 
and got up from the makeshift potty.  Then Melanie, having had her little 
sport with Kimberly, surprised both her friends by revealing her own need 
to pee also.  She padded over to the stump and gingerly sat down.  She 
repeated the same actions as Kimberly.  Finally Gwendolyn, perhaps only 
wanting to join her friends, paid her own visit to the woodland potty.
         Gwendolyn knew a roundabout approach to her cabin that gave them 
almost as many hills to ski down as the outward journey had.  When they 
got back the sun was waning fast, and the chateau looked especially 
inviting.  Soon all three girls were stripped naked and in the sauna.  
         Kimberly sat shyly next to Gwendolyn, remembering their encounter 
the previous night.  For her own part Gwen kept up her staid countenance.  
She anointed herself with baby oil, then invited Kimberly to produce steam 
by pouring water over the sauna's hot coals.  The girl eagerly obliged, 
happy to have something to occupy her fidgety hands.  Melanie, demure and 
retiring like Gwendolyn, contented herself with merely soaking in the 
heat.  Later Gwen passed her the bottle of baby oil and, like some Egyptian 
princess, she oiled down her limbs, carefully working the salve into every 
inch of her body.  When finally she was still once more, the bottle empty 
beside her, she sat with eyes closed and legs spread wide.  She dreamed of 
being taken by Earl.
         That evening Gwendolyn took the girls to a shopping mall in her limo, 
driving them herself.  They all sat three abreast in the car, along the front 
seat.  The affairs of the previous night in the back of the limo surfaced 
briefly, but then were suppressed or forgotten.  Gwendolyn gave each of 
the girls a credit card with her name on it, and insisted over Melanie's 
objections that the girls spend some of her money.
         "First, however, each of you must accompany me to the beauty 
salon," Gwendolyn said.  "If you're to stay with me you must always look 
your very best."  Saying that, she took the girls to a little shop in the mall 
where the proprietress lavished every attention on them and didn't let 
them leave until every last strand of their hair had been assiduously 
attended to.  
         Later, on the way home, loaded with new clothes, shoes, and 
accessories, Melanie suggested that they must stop by the girl's hotel to 
check on their room and see if there had been any calls from their parents.  
There had, and, suppressing giggles, the girls called their parents collect 
and acted as if not a thing out of the ordinary had happened during their 
stay.  Of course they did not tell them that they were no longer sleeping in 
their hotel room.
         David did not reappear for dinner, but Gwendolyn cooked a meal 
herself for the girls and sat down with them.  Melanie found herself 
wishing Earl would drop by.
         "Where is David?" Kimberly asked, lifting a big spoonful of 
homemade chili to her lips.
         "Gone, I'm afraid," Gwendolyn said, stirring her soup and then lifting 
a helping to her own lips.  "He left me a note but I couldn't read it.  Such a 
nice boy."
         "He didn't even say goodbye," Melanie pouted.
         "Perhaps he's only out for a bit and will be back," Gwendolyn said.  
"I'm afraid the fact that he can't speak or write English makes him rather 
like one's dog, leaving the house, then coming back later, moving to his 
own schedule and timetable."
         "Well how about Martin?" Melanie asked.  "Are you just going to leave 
him locked up in the cellar?" 
         "He has a little room to himself with a toilet and sink, plus a small 
refrigerator to keep him fed until I move out this weekend," Gwendolyn 
said.  "You see, girls, you are not the only ones who have to depart at the 
end of the week.  I too must go."
         "But why?" Kimberly asked.  "It seems so nice here."
         "Yes, but I long for the sun," Gwen replied.  "I'm tired of snow in the 
winter.  I've found a place in Europe, on the Mediterranean.  Saturday the 
movers will come and pack me out.  Sunday the new tenant will move in.  
He's an acquaintance of mine.  I'll let him release Martin.  Then watch that 
pig snort and squeal when he finds I'm gone and he must hunt all over the 
coasts of Europe for me if he wishes to tell me off, or try to use his 
schooling whip on my behind!"  Gwendolyn tittered.
         "I rather liked him," Melanie said quietly, partaking of her chili.  The 
broth was thin, but it was chock full of little morsels of hamburger, with 
bits of tomato, celery, and cheese for accompaniment.
         "I did too once," Gwen said.  "So much so I contemplated marrying 
him."  Melanie looked up, surprised.  "But the more I was around him the 
more distasteful he became to me.  Trust me, girls, Martin is not for you, 
despite the fact that I almost put him to your bottom yesterday, Melanie.  
He is a grasping, greedy son ofa bitch."  Melanie winced at Gwen's 
profanity.  The woman must really have a dislike for the man.
         "May we visit you in France, Gwen?" Kimberly asked.  The girl was 
calling the woman by her first name almost always now.
         "You may stay with me if you wish, provided you can arrange it with 
your parents," Gwendolyn replied.  "Melanie no doubt can jet off with me no 
matter what her parents think but you, Kimberly, no matter how much you 
might wish it were not so, are still a minor.  I wouldn't want to be 
accused of kidnapping you."  A wry smile crossed Melanie's face.  Kimberly 
noticed it and glowered.
         After dinner Gwendolyn introduced Kimberly to some video games in 
her parlor.  The girl took to them with predictable relish.  Melanie only 
looked on, disinterested in such childish fare.  Gwen seemed pleased with 
Melanie's lack of interest, and drew her away into another room.
         At Gwen's urging Melanie seated herself on the soft cloth of a 
loveseat.  Gwen sat beside her, and drew off a pack of cards from a shelf 
behind them.  To Melanie's surprise, the cards were decorated to 
commemorate the profession of prostitution.  The king was the man who 
paid for pleasure, the queen the madam who received his money.  The jack 
was a young girl learning the ways of love.  The two began a simple, 
pleasant game.  The conversation naturally became concerned with 
harlotry.
         "There has been a change of plans," Gwen said quietly.  "About 
tomorrow."  Melanie looked up.
         "Oh, I so wanted to see Earl's office!" Melanie said.
         "You still may.  He just won't be there, is all," Gwen replied.  
"Another man will be, however."
         "To show us around?" Melanie asked.
         "In a manner of speaking," Gwen said.  In fact she had trouble 
suppressing a giggle.  Earl's absence was not unplanned.  He would be in a 
room adjacent to the office, taking pictures, which would later be shown 
around.  "I must ask you, how do you feel about trying out being a tart?"  
         Melanie sat quietly for a moment, pretending to study her cards.  A 
queen and jack stared up at her; nude, svelte, willing.  Beyond, lying face 
up on the cushion of the chair, was a king, his rod swollen and ready.  In 
the hand of the queen was a riding crop.  There was a touch of fright to the 
female jack's countenance.  It seemed to make her more appealing.  "IÑI 
would only ever be willing to try it with you," Melanie said to Gwen.  "With 
you as my madam."
         "Then tomorrow will be your first assignment," Gwen said.  "A man 
you do not know, have never seen before, and are unlikely to see again.  He 
has been tested, though, and found to be free of disease.  The other 
madams and I have a doctor downtown who we employ for just such a 
purpose.  All orders must be cleared by him before they can be filled."
         Melanie looked up.  She met Gwen's eyes and seemed to have faraway 
thoughts.  "Do you haveÑ do you have a doctor in Europe as well?"  
         "Of course dear, no party is allowed to proceed without one," Gwen 
said.  "There is a loose confederation of doctors around the world who 
exist for the sole purpose of insuring that the parties of the rich are 
infection free.  All of the men are checked, and some of the females.  We 
have had no problems.  The fee for tomorrow's assignment is $2,000."
         "$2,000?!" Melanie blurted.  Her eyes gaped wide.  A trace of a smile 
lifted up the corner of her lips.
         "With $500 for me," Gwen said.
         "I've heard of girls getting $200 an hour, but notÑ" Melanie began.
         "I run a high class service," Gwen said simply.  "Afterwards I shall 
take you shopping, if you likeÑ or you can save your money.  We're always 
paid in cash."
         "Tax free," Melanie said, musing over her cards once more.  She 
offered one up to the game.  It was the jack.
         "Of course," Gwen replied.  "Now let's finish this quickly and get you 
off to bed.  You will need your rest for tomorrow."  With quick cardplay 
Gwen managed to win the game betwixt them in less than three minutes.
         Gwendolyn came into Melanie's room after her bath and gave her a 
sleeping pill.  Melanie was happy for it, she knew she would have slept 
fitfully otherwise, anticipating the morrow.  Soon, snuggled up in her bed 
in a silk teddy Gwen had given her, Melanie slipped off to dreamland.
         Melanie was groggy in the morning when a rustling by her side 
roused her from her slumber.  Gwen was there, a porcelain teacup in her 
hand.  Melanie, still lying down, with her head propped up somewhat by her 
fluffy pillow, took the cup in both her small hands.  Gwen helped her tip it 
to her lips and drink it.  
         When the cup was empty, Gwen had Melanie sit up.  She took a brush 
and glossed Melanie's hair, getting out all the little kinks that had 
developed during a night of sleep.  Melanie sat with one of her teddy's 
spaghetti straps hanging down by her elbow.  It left her right bosom bare.  
As Gwen brushed Melanie's hair she smoothed the remaining strap off 
Melanie's shoulder.  The teddy fell down her torso, its straps confining her 
arms even as her breasts were left totally naked.  Gwen smoothed the 
remains of the teddy into a pool of folds in Melanie's lap.  Her tummy 
shone pale and flat, her darling little navel a reminder of the fucking that 
had brought her into the world, crying, with an umbilical cord stretching 
back into her mother's womb.  She had had to be spanked to get her 
breathing, to bring her into the world of the living.
         "After your bath you will find a few things lying on your bed to 
wear," Gwen said softly but firmly.  "Put them on, and nothing else.  Then 
come down the hall to my bedroom and I'll sit you down in front of my 
beauty mirror and do your makeup.  It must be perfect."  Melanie nodded.  
Gwen rose, picked up the empty teacup from where it had been placed on a 
nightstand beside the bed, and left the room.  Melanie watched the woman 
as she walked out.  Tall, regal, hips swaying with the fullness of 
womanhood, back straight and erect.  Melanie found herself hoping she one 
day might be as sophisticated and worldly as Gwen.  Perhaps this 
"assignment" would help.
         After a languorous bath Melanie walked back out to her bedroom, 
still towelling herself, to find a beautiful fur coat laid out.  Melanie 
gasped.  Was this to be hers?  She could hardly believe it!  Then she cast 
her eyes about for the remainder of her clothes.  There was nothing, save a 
long pair of polished black leather boots, and a skimpy pair of lacy white 
panties.  Melanie found herself letting out another gasp.  Was she expected 
to wear nothing but panties to her "assignment"?  
         After a rather contemplative dressing, Melanie swished her way 
down the hall in her new fur coat to Gwendolyn's bedroom.  "Ah, you're just 
in time!" Gwen smiled, rising from her beauty mirror.  She motioned for 
Melanie to remove her coat, which she hung in the closet.  Melanie took a 
seat in front of the makeup mirror and Gwendolyn trotted over.  They 
engaged in small talk as Melanie was fitted with large, dangling earrings 
and her face worked over until its natural beauty was absolutely 
exquisite.  By tacit agreement they said nothing of the upcoming event at 
the office.  Finally Gwen urged Melanie from the chair before the mirror 
and stepped back to admire the full effect of her work.  "You really don't 
need any makeup at all," Gwen grinned.  "But I suppose a male likes to 
know that his female has spent a lot of time dithering over her 
appearance."  Melanie brushed her hair back with a svelte caress of her 
hand and looked at herself in the mirror.  
         "I liked the attention," Melanie said.  "You've made me feel spoiled."
         "Back into your fur coat," Gwen said, fetching the garment from the 
closet and bringing it over.  Melanie slipped it back on.  It made her feel 
warm and secure.
         Gwendolyn and Melanie slipped quietly out of the house.  Melanie 
caught a glimpse of Kimberly as she passed the parlor.  The girl was 
sitting with a thick shawl draped over her shoulders, engrossed in a video 
game.  The twin hemispheres of her bottom stuck out nakedly beneath the 
fringe of the shawl.  She sat crosslegged on the floor, like a little child.  
She knew nothing of Melanie's "assignment."
         Melanie felt very privileged as she swayed her way out of the limo 
that dropped her and Gwendolyn off outside Earl's office building.  As the 
twin females moved together through the building's lobby Melanie felt the 
eyes of other girls upon her.  Even on the elevator and then down the hall 
where they got off females gazed at her.  The fur coat she wore was the 
envy of them all, and no doubt they thought it matched by equally splendid 
clothes underneath.
         Past a private secretary with perfectly coiffed hair and an ample 
bustline they walked, into a luxurious corner office.  A man rose from 
behind a big mahogany desk as Gwendolyn softly closed the door behind 
them, shutting out the secretary.  Melanie let her eyes take in the man in a 
steady, innocent stare.  He was at least 20 years older than she, but he 
moved with a grace and dignity unmatched by any males his junior.  Wide 
shoulders surmounted a trim frame.  His muscles seemed still taut and 
lean; with looks like that, he had no doubt trained many a girl.
         Melanie felt like a virgin.  She was in totally uncharted territory.  
Never before had she explored such a relationship.  Gwen stepped up behind 
her and slipped the fur coat off her shoulders.  Naked she stood now before 
the man, save for her teensy white panties.  Somehow she knew she would 
not be required to take off her glossy black boots.  
         The man came right up to Melanie and cupped her chin in his hand.  He 
lifted it.  "What is your name?" the man asked.
         "Melanie," the blonde answered, almost whispering.
         "You may call me Dick," the man replied.  Was it his real name?  Or 
just one he had made up for the event, Melanie wondered.  His eyes 
skimmed down to her breasts.  Naked they quivered before him.  He seemed 
to drink in their fullness, but evidenced no desire to touch them.  "Do you 
know why you are here?" Dick asked.
         "To be of assistance to you sir," Melanie replied.  She had been told 
by Gwen to say that.
         "Ah, how gracefully put," Dick smiled.  It was a friendly smile, 
fatherly, yet one that Melanie could see would brook no disobedience.
         "I brought the cane," Gwen said from behind.  Melanie felt a shiver 
run down her spine.  Must they cane her?  She knew if Gwen had not had her 
birched in the snow she would have bolted from the room then and there.
         "Ah, good," Dick replied, his eyes never leaving the front of Melanie's 
form.  His gaze drifted down to her undies.  Her little undies, so 
insignificant, insubstantial.  Yet Melanie could see in his demeanor that 
they would not be allowed to remain on her.  "Take off your panties," Dick 
said.
         "Yes sir," Melanie replied, trembling with awareness at the cane 
Gwen held at her back, at the rising tent in Dick's crotch.  She loosed the 
little ties of her drawers and, standing with her legs slightly parted, 
watched them flutter to the floor.  Dick cupped her chin once more and 
lifted her face to his.  
         "You are so very pretty," Dick said admiringly.  He kissed her once, 
lightly, on the forehead.  Melanie felt very much like a little girl.  A little 
girl in the omnipotent hands of her daddy.
         "Come and admire the view," Dick gestured, and led Melanie over to 
the picturesque window behind his desk.  It opened onto a breathtaking 
view of the lake.  Bottom bulbing, Melanie stood before the window.  She 
placed her hands to the glass.  It felt cold.  She pressed her breasts 
against it.  Her perky nipples squished against the hardness of the glass.  
The chill coming off the glass made her nipples feel an even greater need 
to erect themselves.  Melanie exhaled her breath and watched as it fogged 
the glass, then slowly cleared.  Beside her Dick stood, hand benignly on her 
bare shoulder, impeccably attired.  Behind her she could hear rustling.  
When she turned around again to face the office a small crimson cushion 
had been placed on the far edge of the desk.
         "May I fix you a drink?" Dick asked gallantly.
         "Yes," Melanie breathed.  She felt all tingly, as if possessed by a 
delirium tremens even before taking her first sip of wine.  Dick urged her 
to a small portable bar set against the wall and poured an expensive red 
into a glass for her.  Melanie lifted the glass with both hands and supped 
from it carefully, not wishing to smudge her lipstick or stain the corners 
of her mouth with the juice of the grape.  Dick imbibed as well, and, after 
a moment, Gwendolyn.  Melanie felt a bit silly as she stood before the 
male and female, they outfitted in the latest office wear, she stark naked.
         "Come, it is time for you to sit upon my desk," Dick said finally, 
mysteriously.  Melanie walked over to the edge of the desk and, at Dick's 
urging, perched her bottom upon the satin red cushion.  "Lie back," Dick 
insisted.  Melanie made to lean back on her elbows, but was eased further 
back until her head came to rest upon the hardness of the desk.  Gwen 
lifted her head then and slipped a second small cushion beneath her crown 
to comfort her.  
         "Relax, darling," Gwen said softly.  Her fingers whispered over 
Melanie's facial cheeks.  Melanie, her eyes before intent on keeping the end 
of the desk where her bottom lay in view, now let her eyes slip to a more 
relaxed pose, gazing up at the ceiling.  Melanie felt Dick grasp one of her 
ankles and pull it sideways along the front of the desk.  Suddenly a leather 
strap was looped about it.  Melanie made to look up but Gwen eased her 
face back down, forced her to stare once more at the ceiling instead of the 
suitor at her loins.  Melanie felt her ankle secured to what she knew must 
be the forward leg of the desk.  
         Melanie's other ankle was drawn apart, leaving her legs in a wide, 
vulnerable vee.  It too was latched down, this time to the other forward 
leg of the desk.  Melanie shivered visibly.  Her legs were practically 
straight, knees just allowed the slightest buckling.  Half her bottom, the 
cushion underneath, was jutting out beyond the end of the desk.  Her pussy 
was fully displayed to all who might wish to partake of its beauty, the 
tight, furred little lips still slumbering in virginal quietude, dry and 
untouched.
         One by one Gwen unbent Melanie's arms, taking them from where she 
had lain them protectively over her breasts.  They in turn were each 
adorned with a restraining leather strap, affixing them to each of the rear 
corners of the desk.  Finally a collar was looped around Melanie's throat 
and buckled.  A leash was attached and run back over the rim of the desk to 
be tied off to a knob protruding from the desk's center drawer.
         "She is ready," Gwen said softly, easily to Dick.
         "This will hurt a bit," Dick said.  Melanie twisted her eyes downward 
as best she could and caught a glimpse of the cane being uplifted.  It was a 
sliver of green bamboo fitted into an ivory handle.  So insubstantial, yet 
wicked looking.  Could such a slender implement really cause her pain?
         Melanie winced as the first blow fell.  Right on the inside of her 
creamy thigh, leaving a burning stripe in its wake.  Again.  Melanie bucked 
soundlessly upon the desk, hips uplifting, small of her back bowing.  Why 
were they whipping her front?  Why not her bottom?  A seizure of fear 
possessed Melanie as she thought of her sweet little quim open to the fall 
of the cane.  Would they dare to whip her there?  Melanie felt just the 
slightest tinge of moisture come to her pussy.  She couldn't believe it!  Her 
pussy was being aroused by the thought of being given pain.  The next blow 
fell and Melanie let out a little cry.  Pain, mixed with an undeniable sense 
of passion.
         Some time later Melanie was sobbing loudly.  Her big breasts 
wobbled upon her straight, firm chest, above the delineation of her ribs, 
the concavity of her stomach.  The juncture of her thighs was a welter of 
painful stripes.  They had hit her pussy, Gwen even taking part in the 
punishment.  Melanie couldn't believe she was even still alive, the pain 
was so intense.  She longed to see her loins, to nurse them, to pet the once 
pretty lips and kiss them until they were better.  Suddenly she felt a wet 
kiss and the tang of lipstick upon her quim.  Gwen was kissing her there.  
Then the woman unlaced the leather bands which held her ankles fast.  
         Dick came around behind Melanie and undid her wrist straps and 
collar.  With trepidation in her eyes Melanie struggled to sit up.  Dick's 
hand at her back helped her.  She had to scoot her bottom inward to get all 
of it back upon the desk.  The cushion travelled with the spheres of her 
flesh.  Legs parted for she feared to close them, Melanie looked down.  A 
mass of red striped covered her inner thighs.  A few had even been laid on 
her tummy.   With Gwen holding her shoulders from the front to steady her, 
Melanie put her hands very tenderly to her pussy lips and looked down at 
them.  Surprisingly, they were as pretty as ever, evincing almost no signs 
of the whacks they had sustained.  Obviously Melanie had been mistaken 
about the punishment they had received.  The few strokes which had hit 
her quim had become confused with those many more which had landed on 
her inner thighs.  
         Looking down at her quim, Melanie felt a need to pee.  She voiced her 
desire and the cushion was withdrawn from underneath her bottom.  Gwen 
and Dick had Melanie scoot forward on the desk until the aperture of her 
peehole was over the floor.  Melanie was half standing, half sitting, her 
booted toes resting on the floor, heels uptilted.  "Pee into this demitasse," 
Gwen cooed.  Melanie looked up, surprised.  The woman had placed an empty 
wine glass below the juncture of Melanie's thighs.  Seeing that the woman 
was dead serious, Melanie glanced at Dick, standing off to one side.  He 
just smiled back, waiting for her to begin.
         Melanie looked down at her pussy once more.  Her long hair, mussed 
from the writhing of her head during the caning, spilled unkempt locks 
over her slim shoulders.  Melanie drew in her breath and bit her lower lip.  
She put a pair of fingers to her pussy lips and parted them.  She began to 
pee.
         Melanie walked with a distinctly awkward gait as she left Earl's 
executive suite.  Her thighs burned at the slightest contact.  Her hair was 
mussed.  Her lipstick was prettily smeared.  She wore her expensive fur 
coat pulled tight, head bowed.
         Melanie felt ashamed, yet at the same time she knew that if she did 
not leave Earl's office with a bearing similar to that with which she had 
entered, his co-workers would know something was up.  Melanie stole a 
furtive glance at Earl's private secretary as she swished by the woman, 
Gwen at her side.  Earl's secretary sat at her desk, a tongue on her lip as, 
open mouthed, she seemed to busy herself with the task of scrolling a 
sheet of paper into a typewriter.  Did Melanie catch a knowing look on the 
woman's face?  For the first time she noticed the blonde woman's full 
bosom, seemingly braless.  Had she too tasted the forbidden fruits of 
Earl's office?  Earl had not come--he had not even taken out his penis!  Had 
Melanie been a mere prelude to Earl's excitement, to be followed by a more 
romantic encounter with his secretary?  All these thoughts did nothing to 
help Melanie keep her head up.
         In the limo Gwen caught sight of a tear pearling down Melanie's 
cheek.  With a whisper of compassion Gwen wiped it away with her nail.  
"Is something troubling you, darling?" Gwen asked when the tear had been 
removed.  Melanie snuffled.
         "I thought he loved me," Melanie whimpered.
         "Who?  Earl?" Gwen asked as the limo whisked them home.  Melanie 
nodded silently, to a titter of laughter from Gwen.  "My dear, there is love 
and lust in this world, and men seem to have a monopoly on the latter," 
Gwen smiled.  This remark sent Melanie's face into her hands, and a loud 
snuffle followed.  Gwen stroked Melanie's hair, her fingers perhaps 
returning a semblance of order to the girl's lemon locks as they slipped 
between the strands.  "Earl loves you for what you are; a sprightly young 
maiden who can buck and rear beneath his crop as well as any filly he has 
trained.  I know you pleased him because he insured that you get the full 
$2,000 fee, by giving us a generous tip."  Melanie only cried more, the sobs 
coming regularly now.  The limo's driver, separated by glass, heard 
nothing.  
         "I'm glad you're crying, do you know why?" Gwen asked after a bit.  
Melanie, head still in her hands, shook her head no.  "Because it means you 
weren't really submitting to Earl for the money.  You were doing it because 
you believed in it, and him.  I like that.  It means you have class.  That's 
how I am.  I didn't tell you earlier, because I didn't think you'd understand.  
I don't whore for the money, though every girl likes money, and what it can 
buy.  I whore because I respect and trust the men who pay me.  The money 
is only a bonus."
         "I think Kimberly would do it just for the money," Melanie said, 
lifting her tear streaked face, suddenly regaining her composure, becoming 
her old self again.  
         "Now, we don't know that," Gwen replied, still running her fingertips 
through Melanie's hair.  "In any event she's too young to get into the 
business, at least in my opinion.  Some men would disagree with me, of 
course.  It will be up to you to look after her once we part.  She's more 
inclined to get into mischief than you are, I think."
         "She loves to have strings of boys wallowing in her beauty and play 
them off against one another," Melanie said.  "She feels no commitment to 
them at all."  Gwen touched the tip of her nail to Melanie's chin.  She lifted 
it.  She looked the girl in the eyes; her deep, blue, widely spaced innocent 
eyes.  
         "You must learn to check your sense of commitment, and Kimberly 
must develop hers more.  I don't think I have to tell you that you will never 
see Earl again.  Oh, you might--there's always a chance.  But he's moving 
on too, sick of the cold, down to South America to find new adventures for 
himself amongst the Latin women.  You were used by him and he enjoyed 
you.  Now put him out of your mind, even as you relish the last traces of 
him in the burning in your thighs."  Melanie looked at Gwen for a moment 
like a frozen rabbit just before it bolts.  Then she crushed herself to Gwen 
and held the woman tightly, beginning to sob once more.
         "Oh, Gwen!  I hate you and love you at the same time!" Melanie cried.  
"My life before I met you seems so trite and boring now, in fact I longed to 
change it.  Yet now, now I'm frightened of the possibilities you've opened 
up to me!"  Gwen patted the girl on the back of her head.
         "We must part too, my dear, but the world is full of friends, if you 
know how to find them.  I shall introduce you to another before you go," 
Gwen said softly. 
Chapter Seven

         The day of departure arrived and Melanie found herself standing on 
Gwen's front porch, waiting for her ancient chauffeur to pull around the 
limo.  Before her the crisp white hills of Aspen stood in all their natural 
glory, stiff pines and evergreens marching up their sides to pierce the low 
hanging clouds above.  Behind her Kimberly could be heard making a clatter 
as Gwen shooed her from the chateau, the girl finding every excuse to 
delay in childish dalliances.  When Kimberly finally did step out onto the 
front stoop, she clutched a moderately-sized teddy bear in her arms.
         "You're taking that on the plane?" Melanie asked Kimberly of the 
stuffed bear.
         "Yes," Kimberly purred, gazing down at the bear as if it were a 
newborn babe.  "One of Gwen's men friends gave it to me.  To remember 
him by."  Melanie felt a tinge of surprise.
         "And what did you do to earn it, hmmm?" Melanie asked wryly.
         "Nothing," Kimberly said.  "He gave it to me because he likes me.  And 
I like him.  We're going to write each other."
         Gwen appeared next to Melanie and looked over both the girls, as if 
she were a mother hen and they her only chicks.  She smiled, and bid them 
farewell.  Spontaneously, each girl kissed Gwen in turn.  The kisses were 
on the lips, and Gwen and Melanie's seemed to linger.  Melanie wondered if 
it were she or Gwen who had prolonged their oral contact?  The limo 
pulled up in a rush and thudded to a halt amidst a flurry of disturbed snow.  
Gwen bundled the girls down to it and packed them inside.  Kimberly 
insisted on sitting in the front and, not wanting to be left alone beyond 
the partition of the glass, Melanie slid in front too.  Both girls turned and 
waved goodbye to Gwen as the limo sped away.
         The conversation on the way to the airport consisted primarily of 
Kimberly naughtily querying Melville on the state of his sexual prowess at 
such an advanced age.  She looked the perfect precocious brat, Melanie 
thought, sitting there cradling her teddy as she inquired of Melville when 
he had last experienced ejaculation, and how long it took him to recover 
afterward.  When the brunette began patting Melville's crotch with her 
hand Melanie slapped it.
         "Oww!" Kimberly whined, yanking back her hand from Melville's groin.
         "Try to behave yourself just once, would you?" Melanie scolded her 
stepsister.  "Mommie and dad should never have let you come on this trip 
alone."
         "I'm not alone, I'm with you," Kimberly said smartly.  Her eyes 
brightened mirthfully as once more her digits stole back toward Melville's 
pants.
         "I know that," Melanie said, grappling for her sister's hand.  "But I 
can't control you.  This is the last trip we'll ever take together, I can 
assure you!"  Kimberly's little hand flitted out from beneath the grasp of 
her older sister and seized on Melville's crotch.  The man gave a groan and 
his back stiffened.
         "Easy girl, I still can feel pain down there, if not too much pleasure," 
Melville cautioned Kimberly.
         "I'll bet I could make you spurt right here, right in this limo!" 
Kimberly chortled.
         "If you did I'd have a heart attack!" Melville said.  "I'd die happy, I 
assure you, but you girls and the limo might wind up stuck by the side of 
the road!"
         "I don't care!" Kimberly roared.  Gleefully the girl tore at the man's 
fly, prying for his limpid rod.
         "Kimberly!" Melanie shouted.  She grabbed at her sister and yanked on 
her hair.
         The airport was reached without involving the limo in an accident, 
but poor Melville, at just the thought of having a succulent 16-year-old 
girl in his pants, had squirted his cum into them before Melanie could even 
prise him out.  With some embarrassment Melville stood by the side of the 
limo, watching as a porter unloaded the girl's bags.  With a hand 
strategically stationed over the stain on his dark trousers he slipped the 
porter a twenty and waved him off, bidding the girls goodbye as well with 
an awkward smile and a nod of his head.
         "Bye Melville, I love you!" Kimberly cried, blowing him a kiss, 
shocking not a few of the younger men standing about, all of whom she 
promptly snubbed by strutting past their entreating stares with her nose 
in the air.  Melanie felt herself blushing.  Leave it to Kimberly to make a 
scene.
         The flight back to New York was half an hour late getting off the 
ground.  But Melanie and Kimberly didn't mind, unbeknownst to their 
parents Gwen had exchanged their coach class seats for ones in first 
class.  Both girls used the extra time to consume extra free drinks, 
Melanie with at least some moderation, Kimberly with none at all.  The 
handsome steward assigned to their portion of the cabin took Kimberly at 
her word that she was of age.  Perhaps the wriggling of the girl's ample 
breasts helped to persuade him.  
         Kimberly was seated in the row in front of Melanie.  The blonde could 
hear the pinging and zapping of a hand held video game as Kimberly 
attempted to see if she could, at least, drive a spaceship whilst under the 
influence.  From the barrage of juvenile sounds emanating from her seat, 
Melanie figured the evil space aliens were faring no better than they ever 
had.  Just before takeoff, when Melanie figured her ability to scoot over 
one seat to be right next to the window in her row was assured, a sultry 
redhead appeared at her side and asked to step by.  With some 
consternation Melanie scooted in her booted feet and let the girl pass.  She 
was no older than herself, with a figure to match.  The girl seated herself 
and brushed back her hair.  Melanie glanced over at the girl, half at her and 
half out the window.  The girl was elegantly attired, as swanky as she and 
Kimberly.  Despite her passion colored hair, the redhead appeared to have 
no freckles.  
         Instinctively Melanie ran her hands over her ribs, smoothing her 
ritzy blouse.  She glanced down at her torso as she did so.  That morning 
she and Kimberly had been dressed by Gwen, in clothes of Gwen's choosing, 
that Gwen herself had purchased.  Kimberly had looked like a little girl 
being dressed by her mother as Gwen clothed her, and the brunette had 
fussed as much as any little girl would have.  Melanie had been more 
subdued, feeling an odd sort of intimacy awakening within her.  Melanie 
stole another glance at the redhead.  Something flashed in her mind that 
this girl, too, had once been dressed by Gwen.  The blonde whore had given 
Melanie and Kimberly tips that they could employ when selecting clothes 
on their own.  Had the redhead somehow benefited from the same 
instruction, at an earlier time?  Melanie was about to dismiss the thought 
from her mind when the redhead looked over at her.  There was a knowing 
look in the strangers eyes.
         "How are your thighs?" the redhead asked softly.  A look of shock 
spread over Melanie's face.  Then she realized, this was the "friend" Gwen 
had said she would be passed along to.  Melanie felt a sense of revulsion in 
the pit of her stomach.  She was being forced again, just as she had been 
forced when Gwen first had Kimberly put the riding crop to her bottom!  
She did not want to be forced anymore.  Melanie was just about to reply to 
the redhead with a feminine epithet when she noticed a look of naive 
tenderness in the girl's eyes.  Somehow, this was no madam, no whore 
looking for a new disciple.  This was a girl just like herself!  The redhead 
probably had no more experience in the strange ways of the adult world 
than she did, Melanie realized.
         Melanie softened.  "They're all better," Melanie said simply.  For a 
moment her eyes simply stared into the girl's.  Then a sense of the beauty 
of the girl's eyes overcame her.  This girl could match Melanie on every 
aspect of beauty, point by point.  Melanie lowered her eyes.  "How did you 
know?" Melanie whispered.
         "I lived with Gwen before you came," the redhead replied.  She 
extended a gloved hand.  "My name's Candy."  Melanie took the hand in her 
own gloved fingers and lifted her eyes.  
         "Mine's Melanie."
         "I know," the redhead replied.
         "YouÑÑyou lived with Gwen?" Melanie asked, feeling awkward.
         "Yes.  She shooed me out just before she went to rescue you.  Said it 
was time for me to practice what I'd learned on my own.  I think I was 
actually put up at the same hotel where you'd been staying.  I skied for a 
week, pulled a trick..."
         "You whored?" Melanie asked, eyes wide.
         "Yeah," the redhead smiled.
         "What was it like?" Melanie couldn't resist.
         "Fun!  It was my first time--on my own, without Gwen," Candy said.  
"There was a gawky boy staring at me who I normally would have snubbed.  
But as I sat in the ski lodge, knowing his eyes were staring at me, 
undressing me, I thought, 'Why not make him happy and make a dollar?'  I 
took his virginity, don'cha know."  Melanie giggled.  Kimberly's head shot up 
and she poked her eyes over the back of her seat.
         "What's going on?" Kimberly asked, as the evil space aliens made the 
first win of the day against her electronic spaceship.
         "Nothing," Melanie chuckled into her hands, her pleasure doubled by 
Kimberly's unsatisfied curiosity at the laughter.
         As the plane finally broke from the airport and ascended into the air, 
Melanie and Candy shared their lives with Gwen with each other, all in 
voices low enough to elude Kimberly's ever inquisitive ears.  It turned out 
that Candy's first trick, under Gwen's tutelage had not involved a beating.  
Perhaps Melanie had suffered such a fate only because she was blonde like 
Gwen, for in no other respect could Candy be said to be less attractive 
than she.  In any event, Candy's assignment had been to entertain two men 
at once, in front of their wives at an intimate dinner party.  Candy had 
taken the men in her mouth and pussy.  The men had talked of putting her 
anus to pillage as well, but Gwen had saved her from that chore.
         "Have you ever had anything up your bottom?" Candy enquired of 
Melanie.
         "No," Melanie said in a hushed voice.  "But Gwen had me whipped 
there--by my own step sister!"
         "Gosh!  What did it feel like?" Candy asked, eyes gaping.
         "It hurt like the dickens.  But afterward I made love to a handsome 
stud in         Gwen's sauna--while watching another woman get whipped!"
         Candy put a hand to her throat.  "That's Gwen!" Candy murmured.
         "And while I was doing that--you know my sister?--she was making 
love to Gwen!" Melanie said.  Instead of expressing shock Candy looked 
down at her lap and blushed.  Melanie suddenly sensed that Kimberly was 
not the only female to have been enveloped by Gwen's charms.      
         "I did that too," Candy admitted.  
         "How could you?" Melanie asked, shocked.
         "It's not so bad," Candy said, looking up again.  Her eyes met 
Melanie's.  "Really.  It's soft, and tender, and loving...of course I prefer it 
with men!"
         "What did you do?" Melanie asked, not wanting to let the subject slip 
back to men quite so quickly.  Why did she pry further?  Was it simple 
puritanical interest, like a preacher investigating smut, or (perhaps even 
in the case of the preacher) was there an attraction to the thing?
         Candy lowered her eyes once more.  She was about to speak, then she 
leaned forward.  Her lips brushed Melanie's ear.  Speaking through golden 
strands of hair Candy said, "Gwen put on a dildo and fucked me."  Melanie 
gasped.  Candy sat back once more, like a penitent having just discharged a 
sin to her priest.
         "In your pussy?" Melanie whispered.
         "Yes," Candy said.  "Very gently...lovingly...and of course the thing 
never went limp."  Melanie pressed her back to her seat.  Her hands pushed 
down on the cushion on either side of her bottom as if to steady herself.  A 
vision of hours and hours of endless fucking from a never-softening penis 
rushed through her mind.  That was Gwen.  Melanie felt a sense of 
disappointment as she realized she might never see the blonde temptress 
again.  The woman had been moving away, with no forwarding address yet 
established.  Melanie knew she could never submit to being fucked by a 
woman with a dildo.  Yet with Gwen...so feminine, so alluring, so 
understanding even as she made necessary demands of her charges...with 
Gwen everything seemed possible.  And Melanie knew that everything was.
         As the jet lofted eastward it met the night.  The cabin lights 
dimmed and a light dinner gave way to slumber amidst pillows and 
blankets.  A tired old movie flickered for the few who cared to watch, 
most chose to forego the tinny bleating of the headsets needed to 
accompany the film.  This was first class.  Since the movie was free, 
nobody cared about it.  A curious game developed between Melanie and 
Candy as the night wore on.  Melanie, perhaps only not wanting her 
newfound friend to think she secretly despised her for her lesbian 
encounter, stole over and undid the topmost button on Candy's blouse.  The 
redhead appeared asleep, but soon after Melanie closed her eyes she 
retaliated.  A bit later Melanie, thinking surely that this time Candy was 
not awake, flipped open another of Candy's buttons.  Soon the same fate 
befell Melanie at the hands of Candy.
         Melanie's fingers were stealing over to Candy's blouse once more 
when the redhead's eyes popped open.  "You're going to make me look like 
more of a whore than you are if you keep doing that," Candy scolded.  
Melanie giggled.
         "I'm just trying to make you look like what you already are," Melanie 
said.  "Maybe that stud steward will lay you when we land.  It'll pay your 
cab fare, anyway."  Candy put on a mock scowl.
         "There!" Candy cried, attacking Melanie's third blouse button before 
the blonde could raise her hands in defense.  "Now you can have him 
instead."  The curve of Melanie's bosom came into view.    
         "I think we both should have him," Melanie replied.  She reached over 
and undid Candy's third blouse button.  The redhead simply looked at her.  
         "I don't think you're bold enough to go as far as I can," Candy said.  
"I've danced topless before, even though I was underage when I did it.  A 
few loose buttons on my blouse doesn't even faze me."
         "So?  I've had water splashed on my tits in a bar before--without a 
bra!" Melanie replied.
         "Whoa," Candy said, unimpressed.  Her fingers flitted to Melanie's 
blouse and undid its fourth button from the top.  Melanie's satiny black bra 
peeped out.  "I should wet your boobs now--with my drink."
         Was it the alcohol that made the girls act this way?  Perhaps this 
was why many states had raised the drinking age to 21.  Surely the 
foundations of civilization were undermined by tipsy girls walking about 
in open blouses.  Melanie's fingers reached out to Candy's blouse.  "I can go 
farther than you in this," Melanie said, knowing in her heart she was only 
bluffing.  Candy's charcoal colored bra appeared between the sundered 
halves of her blouse.
         "I dare you to leave this plane with five buttons unbuttoned," Candy 
said quietly.  Sensuously her slim, long nailed fingers slipped the fifth 
button on Melanie's blouse.  Melanie gazed down as Candy's agile digits 
made good on her proposal.  Candy gave the halves of Melanie's blouse a 
flick with her fingernails for good measure, spreading them.  The inner 
cups of Melanie's black bra breathed the night air freely.
         "I can, but only if you can too," Melanie challenged.  Her fingers went 
to Candy's blouse and inflicted a similar denouement.  When Melanie had 
withdrawn her hand Candy lifted a hand to her own blouse.  Staring 
directly into Melanie's eyes, Candy undid the sixth button on her blouse.  
Her bellybutton peeped between its halves.
         "Top that," Candy smoldered.
         "I-I can't," Melanie breathed, shocked at how far they'd both gone.  
         "I win," Candy said simply.  Melanie flounced back in her seat and 
pouted.  Once more she had been beaten at erotic games.  In the seat in 
front of her space aliens screamed as a drunken girl zapped them into 
oblivion, winning every time.  Melanie pulled the two halves of her blouse 
together but did not re-button them.
         Melanie and Candy walked side by side as they exited the plane.  
Heads held high, they strutted their beauty up the speedway, ignoring the 
people waiting at the far end, seemingly oblivious to the curious, 
appreciative glances of their fellow passengers.
         "Why are your blouses unbuttoned?" Kimberly gushed as the girls 
regrouped near a water fountain.
         "We challenged each other," Melanie explained, her face blushing even 
as she spoke.  
         "I've heard of girls dressing that way for night clubbing, but-" 
Kimberly began.
         "Let's go night clubbing!" Candy suggested gaily.
         "Yeah!" Melanie replied.  Together they hoisted their carry-on bags 
once more and made for the airport's lobby.  A porter was secured, and the 
girl's bags were loaded into a taxi.  The porter smiled as the cab fled into 
the night.  He barely felt the five dollar bill in his fingers.  He gazed after 
the cab, a dreamy look in his eyes.  A bus honked at him to get out of the 
road.
         The girls, seated three in a row in the back of the cab, decided to 
stow their bags at a plush hotel for the night and spend the rest of the 
evening partying.  Melanie and Candy had tried to persuade Kimberly to sit 
up front, but the girl, sensing that she had been left out of secrets on the 
plane, insisted on sitting in the back with them.  Kimberly had even undone 
a few buttons on her blouse to keep up with her sister and Candy.
         The girls whispered amongst themselves.  "Would you like a tip?" 
Kimberly suddenly asked their cabdriver as he closed with their hotel.
         "Course," the cabdriver groused.
         "Cheers!" the three girls screamed at once, suddenly pulling back the 
halves of their shirts and thrusting forth their bra encased boobs.  The 
cabdriver nearly dropped his cigar into his lap.  "We don't have any extra 
money," Kimberly explained in her high, girlish voice when the three of 
them had finished cracking up over their exposure.
         "I'll take that kind of a tip any time," the cabdriver said.  He pulled 
the cab to a halt at the girl's hotel and gallantly leapt out to help them 
from the cab.  Taking each girl by the hand he drew her forth.  Then he 
went back to the cab's trunk and unloaded the girl's bags as a trio of 
bellhops rushed forth to relieve the girls of whatever they might find to 
be a nuisance, be it heavy bags or clothing.
         The front desk was bypassed, the bellhops assuring the girls that 
they would handle all the details of their stay for them.  One of the 
bellhops slipped away for a moment to get a room key, and soon the group 
of three girls and three young men was whisking skyward in a hotel 
elevator.  The girls were shown into a lavish room, one of the bellhops 
murmuring something about checking the girls into a cheap room and then 
switching keys so they could enjoy a more luxurious stay, free of 
additional charge.  Despite the generosity of the boys Candy and Melanie 
only allowed them to stay long enough to point out the amenities of the 
room, which came complete with side-by-side toilets and a heart shaped 
tub.
         "We're not getting married, boys, we're just sleeping over until the 
morning," Melanie said in a disapproving voice as she surveyed the room.
         "No, you'll like it here," one of the bellhops urged.
         "Well, the bill better be as reasonable as we asked for it to be or 
we'll skip out on it," Melanie warned.
         "Oh, you'll have no problem with the charge," a bellhop replied.  "And 
for you girls--room service is free."
         "Well, thank you boys, you're very generous," Candy said, ushering 
them out.  "But we girls must get our beauty rest.  I don't think we'll be 
needing anything tonight."
         "Do you have any booze?" Kimberly asked, speaking, as always, when 
she shouldn't.  Melanie frowned at her and pointed at hardwood paneling 
which hid a wet bar.  Candy managed to get the bellhops out and closed the 
door on them.
         "Do you have any booze!" Melanie said reprovingly as Kimberly drew 
back the paneling to reveal a host of little bottles.
         "Oh, wow!  Hard stuff!" Kimberly gushed.
         "You don't need any of that," Melanie said, stepping up beside 
Kimberly and cutting off her grasping hands.  "You're drunk as a wino 
already."
         "Oh, let her have a little," Candy said, loosing the final button on her 
blouse and slipping out of it.  Her large breasts, held tightly by her bra, 
bulged above the black fabric in twin mounds of feminine glory.  Kimberly, 
encouraged, made another grab for the liquor, but Melanie caught her 
palms.
         "Candy said I could have some," Kimberly, hands imprisoned, whined.  
         "She's not your sister.  I am," Melanie said.
         "Step sister," Kimberly corrected.
         "All the same, I'm responsible for you," Melanie said.  "Now get your 
clothes off and climb into bed."
         "I thought we were going night clubbing!" Kimberly protested.
         "Candy and I are," Melanie said.  "You're too young, silly!"
         "I'm going to shower and turn in," Candy said.  She padded over to the 
bathroom and peeked through its doorway.  "In fact, I'm going to take 
advantage of this place.  A heart shaped jacuzzi, mmm!"  Candy reached 
back and unclasped her bra.  Her breasts sprang forth, their cherry tips 
wiggling in ecstasy at the sudden release.  Quickly Candy shimmied out of 
her black skirt and kicked off her pumps.  Melanie followed suit, shedding 
the blouse that so many men on the way from the airport had longed to see 
her without.  Kimberly, not even bothering to unbutton her own expensive 
blouse, merely yanked it over her head.  In a minute the sisters were down 
to the clasps on their garters, freeing their stockings as a denuded Candy 
stepped into the jacuzzi.  A moment later and all three girls were 
splashing together in the hot, comforting water of the valentine shaped 
tub, enjoying a soothing soak after their long flight.
         Melanie gazed at the pair of boobs on either side of her.  Kimberly's 
were speckled with water, the result of a bout with Melanie that had 
wetted both girl's mammaries.  But both girl's hair still flowed, almost 
dry, over their slim shoulders, just as if they were posing for some 
naughty magazine.  Melanie noticed that the upper halves of Candy's large, 
exquisite breasts still bobbed in dry splendor, her shapely skin untouched 
by the churning water which buoyed them up.  The redhead's nipples, so 
pink and pretty, looked like struggling shipwrecked sailors as they barely 
kept themselves above the moving froth.  Melanie couldn't help herself.  
Perhaps it was the liquor she had drunk, perhaps the conversations of 
sapphic pleasures with Gwen that inspired her.  Melanie took a bottle of 
perfumed soap from the rim of the tub and upended it over the nearest of 
Candy's teats.  She squeezed the plastic bottle and soap drooled out its 
neck and fell onto Candy's bosom.  Candy gasped at the unexpected tribute 
to her titty.  She looked down and watched as the scented fluid lumped up 
on the curve of her breast and then, overcome by its own weight, began to 
roll down toward her nipple.  Melanie saw Candy's nipples stiffen.  The 
trail of soap bumped into Candy's pink bud and curled around it, then, 
building up, it rolled over the top of the erect nubbin.  
         Kimberly, never one to be left behind by her sister, joined in the 
girlish fun by extending a finger to Candy's soap drowned nipple.  Easily, 
gently, she began rubbing the pad of her finger over Candy's little nubbin.
         "I wonder what a man would pay to see us like this right now?" 
Melanie asked, looking deep into Candy's eyes.  Candy laughed, an easy 
laugh, her breasts jiggling slightly.
         "I don't know," Candy replied.  "He'd pay even more to be with us."
         "Perhaps we should relieve those bellhops of their wallets," Melanie 
said, not knowing why.  Kimberly giggled, her massage of the outermost 
point of Candy's breast continuing.
         "Come take a bath with us," Kimberly mimed.  "We need our backs 
washed."
         "And our nipples," Candy said.
         "Yes, those too, we must be clean all over," Kimberly said.  Grinning, 
she focused her eyes even more assiduously on Candy's soaped teat, as if 
performing a vital task for a newborn babe.
         Melanie anointed Candy's other breast, and Kimberly just as quickly 
lent her own special touch to that teat as well.  It was as if the sisters 
were welcoming their new friend into the most intimate parts of their 
lives.
         "Do my tits too!" Kimberly said after a moment, sloshing back away 
from Candy and thrusting out her lovely, newly grown breasts.
         "Do them yourself!" Melanie laughed, and aimed her soap bottle at 
Kimberly and squeezed it hard enough to send a trail of the stuff arching 
across the tub to hit Kimberly in the face.  Kimberly cried out and Melanie, 
still squeezing, caused looping spurts of the aromatic fluid to splatter 
upon Melanie's neck and breasts.  Candy, joining in the act, grabbed a soap 
bottle of her own and inundated Kimberly with her own oily tribute.  
Kimberly, far from retaliating, lifted both her hands to her breasts, 
grinned, and began rubbing them with her palms.  Soon suds were forming, 
and Candy and Melanie sluiced their bodies across the tub to add more soap 
to Kimberly's teats.  Murmuring of the beauty of Kimberly's breasts, Candy 
and Melanie squirted yet more soap upon them.  Kimberly lifted her 
breasts, accepting the further oily accolade, eyes glowing as layer upon 
layer of fluid was mounded onto the curves of her mammaries, looking like 
half-built spires of some wet sand castle.
         "Mmm, strawberry!" Kimberly said as some of the soap that had 
earlier struck her face trailed past the corner of her mouth.  Her eyes 
were wide, the soap in them not stinging them in the least.  "Give me 
more!" Kimberly demanded, opening her mouth so some of the soap could be 
squirted into it.  But Melanie interceded twixt her and Candy.
         "It's not for eating, though a little bit in your mouth won't hurt," 
Melanie advised.  Kimberly, not to be denied, lowered her face toward her 
breasts to lick the soap off her breasts.  But Melanie's hands got there 
first, and began rubbing the unassimilated mounds of soap into the suds 
that already clung to Kimberly's tits.
         Candy, perhaps inspired by Melanie, slipped behind the girl and lifted 
her own hands to cup Melanie's boobs from behind.  "Does that feel good?" 
Candy asked, even as Melanie's face took on a look of wonder at the 
unexpected attention.  
         "Mmm, yes," Melanie purred, letting herself be pampered as she 
worked to keep her little sister from devouring the soap on her breasts.  
This tableau had continued for just a little while when Candy leaned 
forward and whispered amorously in Melanie's ear:
         "I wish I had a dildo on to fuck you with."
         "I wish I had one--I'd jam it right up this little cunt," Melanie said 
of Kimberly.  Then:  "I told you, don't eat the soap!" as the obstreperous 
Kimberly made to bow her face to her breasts yet again.
         "Help me submerge her.  I'll never get her away from this soap 
otherwise," Melanie said to Candy.  The redhead came around from behind 
Melanie and each of them pressed their hands upon Kimberly's shoulders.  
As they pushed the girl down into the foaming water Kimberly extended 
her tongue and flicked it at Candy's teat, just catching a bit of the 
strawberry soap on her tongue.  
         "Mmm!" Kimberly said, impishly licking her lips just before her 
entire head was dunked beneath the tub's miniature waves.  
         Kimberly began struggling as soon as her head disappeared beneath 
the water.  Melanie felt a hand attack her pussy, Candy too gave a lurch as 
she was bopped in the tummy by a fist.  A moment later and a spluttering 
Kimberly was let up from beneath the rippling waters, looking like a 
kitten that had taken an unwelcome bath.  At once Kimberly lunged at her 
sister, and a moment later it was Melanie whose head disappeared beneath 
the waves.  Candy clambered atop Kimberly and managed to pull her off her 
sibling.
         Effortlessly the girls segued into an actual bathing of their bodies.  
The strawberry squeeze bottles empty now, the girls turned to a cake of 
soap to do their actual work with.  There being only one, and nobody 
willing to go look for more, the girls shared it.  Fortunately it was a 
generous cake.  All three girls rubbed their hands simultaneously on the 
bar of soap until they had raised suds.  Twice the bar slipped from their 
joint grasp and had to be fetched from the bottom of the tub, 
necessitating a re-start of the entire procedure.  But the girls didn't mind.  
They giggled and laughed and, finally, hands caked with suds, they each 
began lathering their own bodies.  The bathroom being a bridal suite, no 
washcloths were in evidence, though no doubt one could have been found if 
the effort had been undertaken.  Instead each girl just used her hands to 
lather herself, aided by frequent return trips to the bar, which alternately 
passed between them as each claimed it for her own.  (Kimberly seemed to 
get to hold the bar more than the other two.)  At one point, about halfway 
through, Melanie happened to lean just far enough over the side of the tub 
to see an unused bath sponge lying on the floor, an apparent casualty of 
their earlier frolics.  Melanie retrieved the sponge for herself and had no 
sooner wet it than it too became an object of contention between the 
girls.  Like the bar of soap, it also wound up changing owners with 
surprising frequency.
         Their soak and washing finally at an end, the girls stepped from the 
tub.  Languorously their lean bodies reached for towels, their long legs and 
pendant teats reflecting back at them in the room's many mirrors.  Each 
girl bent forward, hoping to pluck a towel from a towel bar along the wall 
without having to step off the furry bath mat by the tub.  The tiled floor 
beyond promised to greet their feet with a chill.  Kimberly managed to 
pluck a towel from a bar, but in doing so she caused one of the other two 
towels to fall to the floor along the wall.  
         "Thanks a lot," Melanie said.  She knew one of them would now be 
without, and even as she spoke Candy managed to grab the remaining towel 
from the rack.  Melanie need not have complained.  Candy, towel in hand, 
turned to her and wordlessly offered to dry her.  Melanie accepted.  Even as 
Candy's body still dripped water, beginning to feel the cold of the room, 
the redhead worked the towel over her, massaging her deeply with it.  
Soon Kimberly, wrapped warmly in her towel, was gazing forlornly at the 
other two, certain that she had been deprived of their fun yet again.
         Finally Kimberly hopped from the furry bath mat and leapt across the 
cold tiled floor to the bedroom carpeting beyond.  Melanie, dry now, rubbed 
down Candy in turn.  She admired the redhead's body as she worked.  Their 
was a feeling of electricity between them.  Forbidden pleasures seemed to 
beckon.  The curls of Candy's pubic hair seemed so neat and tight, as if God 
himself had sewn them on for his own personal pleasure.  Her thighs were 
lissome, lightly tanned as if someone had gently brazed them over a fire.  
         Melanie stood erect, her task done.  The towel slipped from her 
grasp.  The two girls looked at each other, their eyes bright.  Their hands 
brushed each other's hips.  Their mouths seemed to linger over one 
another, though untouching.  The nipples of their breasts grazed one 
another.  And then, just as quickly as the passion had welled up within 
them, it was repressed.  The girls stepped back from one another.  They 
had shared something there, in that moment, but had pressed it back down 
within themselves.  Someone else was needed to bring it out.  A woman 
like Gwen perhaps, or, better, a man.
         The girls retreated across the room together, toward the carpeting 
of the bedroom.  Somehow their feet neglected to inform them of the cold 
of the tiles.  They walked without flinching, their minds preoccupied with 
other thoughts.  Their hands brushed but did not clasp.  Breasts preceding 
them, hips rolling in farewell to the tub, they gained the carpeting beyond 
the doorway.  Kimberly was there, sitting on the edge of the room's only 
bed, playing her space game.  Once more the aliens were on the run.  Candy 
sat down beside her and urged the game from her hands.  Kimberly put a 
palm to Candy's shoulder and leaned in to her, then pointed out the aspects 
of the game as Candy took command of the imaginary spaceship.  Soon 
Candy was engrossed in childish ways, the sensations she had shared with 
Melanie on the bath mat shut from her mind.  Melanie too, though no fan of 
the space game, found herself once more preoccupied with simpler things.  
She found a teddy bear alarm clock snuggling behind a night table lamp on 
the far side of the bed.  With juvenile enthusiasm she picked it up and 
began fiddling with it.  Next to where the bear had been was a bowl of 
jellybeans.  As Melanie looked over the bear she began plucking beans from 
the bowl and popping them into her mouth.
Chapter Eight

         The three girls slept soundly that night, their heads finding refuge 
on each other's shoulders as they snoozed away the remainder of the 
waning evening, ensconced in the big honeymoon bed.  The next morning 
they were up bright and early, eager to continue with their trip.  After 
tickling their fancies by ordering room service to bring them breakfast in 
bed (which they ate in the nude, beneath their sheltering covers), they set 
about dressing.
         Reluctantly the girls split up.  Melanie and Candy promised to write.  
Then separate cabs whisked them away, Melanie headed back to her 
parents, Melanie and Kimberly back to theirs.  
         After a week with Gwen home seemed somehow out of place to 
Melanie.  She was glad to be back in her own bedroom with her stuffed 
animals, prom photos, and boyfriend's letter jackets, but it all seemed so 
staid now, so boringly normal.  Even for a good girl like Melanie, who 
always tried to do the right thing and please her parents and teachers, 
there seemed a sudden dullness to life.  Was the senior prom and cheap 
dates on the weekend really all she could look forward to from now on?  
Not to mention the homework, the ever more stale cheerleading practice, 
and her lessons on her flute for band.  Everything that had always kept her 
totally happy before seemed hollow now.  
         Melanie stripped off her clothes and stepped into the bathroom for a 
shower.  Afterward, towelled off, a blowdrier in her hand fanning out her 
long locks, she looked in the mirror.  Suddenly she had a new awareness of 
her beauty.  Just look at that face!  Even without any makeup it would have 
charmed a legion of barbarians.  And her body, so slender, yet with a pair 
of tits that looked like twin juggernauts hell bent on piercing the nearest 
ship--or the hearts of the sailors onboard.  And then there were her long, 
long legs, supporting trim hips that had just enough flare to them to let 
every man know she must be legal.  Melanie spun about and looked at her 
bottom.  She cupped the twin halves of jutting flesh.  They looked like 
mounds of powder, they were so white.  She had felt the riding crop there, 
thanks to her little sister.  What would it feel like to be hit by a whip 
there, though?  Or, as she had seen in a book at Gwen's house, by a birch 
rod?  Is that what the men who always leered at her on the street really 
wanted to do with her?  Was that what was expected of a woman, to 
pleasure her husband by bouncing and writhing under his punishment?  
Melanie shivered.
         Kimberly knocked on the bathroom door.  "Hurry up!" the girl yelled in 
a demanding voice.  Melanie sighed.  She opened the door and Kimberly 
bustled inside.  "Some of us have a date tonight," Kimberly said primly.
         "Who cares about dates?" Melanie said.  "I'm sick of them.  Haven't 
you seen enough back seats of cars by now?"
         "Just because you don't have any," Kimberly said, and stuck out her 
tongue.
         "It's not that I don't have any, it's just that I don't want any," Melanie 
protested.  "It's always the same.  A back seat that smells like the 
football team threw up on it, even when the car's a Porsche.  An empty 
beer can or two rolling around under the front seats, somehow missed by 
the "professional" vacuuming the guy did an hour before the date.  I mean, 
it's just sooo romantic.  A touchy-feely movie, then a "romantic" dinner at 
Denny's with the gang, then the all-important trip to inspiration point 
where the boy tries to get me undressed before he creams his pants."
         "Well, I like it," Kimberly replied, pulling off her taffeta top for a 
shower.  Her breasts jiggled in their bra cups.
         "Suit yourself," Melanie sniffed, and turned and left.  She felt queer.  
She wanted to go out, but it all seemed so childish to her after her trip to 
Aspen.  Kimberly had obviously been too young to be affected by their 
experiences.  And Gwen had not used her as a whore.  To Kimberly the 
whole thing had just been a lark.  A chance to play her electronic space 
game without some parent or teacher interrupting.
         A letter from Candy arrived a few days later.  Unfortunately, 
Kimberly was the one to bring in the mail.  Kimberly was not always one 
to pry into her sister's affairs, but some intuition told her that this time 
a little snooping might be in order.  She set a pot of water on the stove 
and, as it boiled, she steamed open the envelope.  Inside was a 
butterscotch scented letter from Candy.  After pedestrian preliminaries, 
the letter recounted in somewhat vague terms the account Melanie had 
given Candy about her first job as a whore, with Earl paying her $2,000.  
Candy ended the letter by saying, "If you'd like to be a tart again, I think I 
may have a client."  
         Kimberly's father walked into the kitchen while she was busy with 
the letter.  She had thought he was out, but in fact he had just been in the 
laundry room taking measurements for some shelves Kimberly's mother 
wanted installed.  Kimberly heard her father's footfalls about two seconds 
before he stepped into the kitchen.  She stuffed Candy's letter underneath 
a pile of papers.  Her father stopped right in front of the pile and picked up 
the phone, which was hung on the wall right next to the papers.  Kimberly 
poured the hot water in the teakettle into a bowl of Top Raimen, and 
glided around the kitchen bar to sit down at the family's dining table.  No 
sooner had Kimberly taken two mouthfuls of soup than she heard her 
father rummaging in the pile of papers for a note he had made on the price 
of shelving.
         "That's ridiculous!" Kimberly's father said testily into the phone.  
"Somebody at your store quoted me a price on shelves there just last 
weekend.  I have it written down write here--"  (A sound of papers 
shuffling.)  "No, I don't know the name of the clerk who told me the price, 
but it was $20.00 a unit, not $40--"  The man's last words were eclipsed 
as he came across Candy's letter.  A moment later the telephone 
conversation ended on an abrupt, awkward note.  With shaking hands, 
Kimberly's father brought the letter over to her.  "Kimberly...do you know 
anything about this?" he asked.
         Melanie was met by her father when she arrived home from school.  
His face was grim.  "Hi daddy," Melanie said fearfully, guiltily.  He only 
looked as he did now when she had done something very wrong.  Like when 
she had drunk his wine at 10.  Or made out with a boyfriend at 12 on her 
parents bed, accidentally leaving his size 28 underpants under the sheets.  
Or when she had borrowed his Audi last summer without his permission 
and then returned it with a dent she hoped he wouldn't notice, but had.
         "Please come into my study," Melanie's step dad said as she tried to 
whisk past him and up the stairs to her room.  She set down her books and 
he took her hand.  That he never did anymore, unless she'd been very bad.
         "What's wrong, Daddy?" Melanie asked, but her father said nothing.
         The study seemed dark and foreboding to Melanie.  There was nothing 
here but books, and she didn't like reading much, except for her school 
textbooks, which she studied assiduously.  Melanie hardly ever came in her 
father's study, though she had smooched with a few boys in here.  But 
except for the occasional foray with a boyfriend the study held little 
attraction for her.  And it was where her father always took her when he 
was angry with her.
         Melanie's father ushered her into his study and closed the door 
behind them.  He told her to sit down in one of the big leather chairs that 
fronted his desk.  Then, standing over her, he handed her Candy's letter.  
"What's this?" John (for that was his name) asked.  Melanie looked at the 
letter.  As she red it she blushed, then gulped.  She was groping for some 
way to dismiss its credibility when her step father ordered her to stand.
         "I've never searched your room, but today I did take a little tour," 
Melanie's step dad said.  I saw a bank deposit slip sticking out from under 
the bottom of your stuffed Koala bear.  I think you'll forgive me for being 
unable to restrain my curiosity."  He presented her with the slip.   It was 
from her trip to the bank last Friday.  It contained only the date and two 
words, but they were enough:  "Deposit:  $2,000."
         "Daddy, I-" Melanie began.
         "Your mother and I adopted you," Melanie's father said.  "Your natural 
mother may have been poor, but she was a God-fearing, hard working 
woman.  I didn't take her from you only to tell her that I raised you to be a 
whore!" the last few words came from Ivan's mouth at a very high decibel 
level.  John was trembling now.  Beads of sweat had appeared almost 
instantly on his forehead.  "Is this what a good upbringing has taught you?"
         "No, daddy," Melanie quivered.
         "Is this what your mother and I, working hard every day at our jobs 
to provide a home for you, have accomplished?"
         "No, daddy," Melanie said, tears brimming in her eyes.  She looked 
down at her lap.
         "Good schools, expensive clothes, a fine neighborhood, your mother 
an engineer and myself a doctor, and you wind up a whore?!" Again Ivan's 
voice threatened to knock down the walls of the study.  All at once, like a 
lull in a thunderstorm, his voice became very quiet.  "You're too old to 
spank."  He paused.  Melanie breathed a sigh of relief.  "By me."  The blonde 
looked up.
         The study consisted of a main room, where her father's desk was, 
and a smaller room, separated by a sliding door, which held his prized 
books.  He stepped over to the smaller door and slid it back.  Melanie gazed 
beyond the doorway and saw a woman dressed in black rise from the 
room's only chair.  She put down a leather-bound book on a deal table 
beside the chair.  She was dressed in a tight black gown that hugged her 
hips.  
         "I think you'll be needed now," Melanie's father said to the woman.  
Looking very demure, the woman swished into the study's main room.
         "Is this the errant child?" the woman asked of Melanie, speaking to 
her father.  Melanie felt like a puppy being spoken of by its owners.
         "I was too lenient with her in my upbringing," John muttered, more 
to himself than anyone in the room.
         "A common mistake among the better classes of society," the woman 
breathed.  Melanie thought she could almost see flames ushering from the 
woman's mouth.  Scented steam seemed to rise from her gown.  
         "Your father tells me you've been naughty," the woman said, turning 
to Melanie.  The blonde only looked at her.  "Please stand," the woman said 
to the teen.  She obeyed.  "My name's Ivana.  I used to be a whore, but I've 
mended my ways now.  I look forward to the opportunity to help a girl like 
yourself stay on the straight and narrow."  Melanie was shivering now.  Her 
step-dad was a big man.  Ivana, too, loomed large, tall and lean, with a 
prominent bust.  Ivana opened her purse.  She drew forth a little switch.  It 
had a collapsible handle, which she pulled to its full length with a click 
that sounded with a note of finality in the otherwise silent room.  "Bend 
over the desk and lift your skirt," Ivana said simply.  Melanie could barely 
control her fear.  Her father gazed at her dispassionately.  
         Melanie walked with light, mincing steps to her father's desk.  
Perhaps this was the best way.  She had felt ashamed about her 
assignment with Earl.  Perhaps this would exorcise her humiliation and 
drive any further thoughts of prostitution from her mind.  Perhaps then 
she could get back to school and studies, and friends, with a clear, 
unfettered mind.  Melanie bit her lip and leaned forward.  She upped her 
plaited skirt.  Her girlish white undies were displayed for all to see.  "She 
will need to be held," Ivana said to Melanie's father.  He strode around to 
the rear of his desk.  Reaching past Melanie's head, he took both her wrists 
in his hands.  Then he lifted them up into the air.  Melanie winced at her 
father's roughness, intended or not.  Her arms were straight, her wrists in 
the air above the small of her back.  Her father raised her wrists into the 
air swiftly, nearly yanking Melanie's arms off her shoulders.  Her father 
was so big that he only needed to lean forward a little as he held her.  
         "Bend over more," Ivana instructed from behind.  Melanie knew the 
words were intended for her.  She leaned forward, her father's hand 
coming to her back to help press her down.  She was made to bend until her 
face bumped against his desk.  Melanie turned her head on its side and 
pressed her cheek against the coolness of the desk's laminated surface.
         Melanie heard rustling behind her.  "Forgive me, the gown hinders my 
work," she heard Ivana say.  Melanie found she had a direct view of her 
father's crotch.  It was only inches from her face now.  Even as she set 
eyes upon it a protuberance formed within it.  Melanie heard Ivana's gown 
slither to the floor.  Suddenly, in the glass of a family portrait, she caught 
sight of the disrobed Ivana.  The woman wore a corset that lifted her 
ample breasts, leaving the nipples bare.  Beneath the arch of the corset 
Ivana's navel twinkled, and some distance below that a skimpy pair of 
panties stretched across her hips.  Taut garters stretched down to keep 
fishnet stockings tightly clasped around Ivana's upper thighs.  Just when 
had this woman stopped whoring? Melanie wondered.  Last week?
         A rustling in Ivana's purse caused Melanie to turn her head.  That was 
the place from which the pony-lash, now lying idle beside her on the desk, 
had come.  Ivana drew forth an ivory hair brush with a flat back.  Melanie 
felt sharp-nailed fingers come to her buttocks.  Her panties were drawn 
down, left to bunch beneath the juncture of her thighs.  Ivana let out her 
breath.  "I always love the sight of a young girl's naked bottom," Ivana 
murmured.  Then, more loudly, "Your money has not been wasted on your 
daughter's behind, at least.  This is the finest bum I've seen in years."  
John cleared his throat.  
         "Please begin," John said.  "The wife will be home shortly."
         "Of course," Ivana said.  Once more she fished in her purse, this time 
taking from it a crystal flask containing perfume.  The little bottle had an 
attachment protruding elegantly from it which allowed the perfumed 
contents to be sprayed onto the body.  Ivana aimed the tiny nozzle sticking 
sideways from the top of the bottle at Melanie's heinie.  She squeezed 
gently, and Melanie felt a shower of perfume spray her bottom.
         "I asked you to begin!" John said angrily, still holding his daughter 
down.
         "A whipping on a wet bottom hurts more," Ivana said simply, and 
continued spraying here and there until Melanie's entire ass was coated 
with a light film of liquid perfume.  Then Ivana set the bottle aside, 
saying that it would be needed again later when Melanie's heinie had dried 
from the initial series of blows.  
         Ivana lifted the ivory hairbrush.  She studied Melanie's bottom for a 
moment, like a wolf apprising its prey.  Then, suddenly, she struck the 
back of the brush hard against Melanie's bottom.
         Melanie flinched.  She bit her lower lip and left teeth marks there.  
Melanie's father, sensing the movement at her mouth, parted her lips with 
his free hand and inserted his index finger between her teeth.  The full 
effect of this gallant move was somewhat lost on Melanie as she winced 
from the sharp pain at her bottom.  Again the hairbrush came down.  
Melanie bit into her father's finger.  Her hips flinched.  
         Surely she could take this, Melanie thought.  Her father did not know 
of Kimberly's caning.  A hairbrush, even one wielded by a dominatrix, was 
no match for a jealous sister with a cane!  But the brush did hurt all the 
same, and Melanie was quivering with tension over the pony lash, still to 
come.
         Blow after blow rained down courtesy of the hair brush.  Melanie 
bumped her flanks against the edge of the table.  She bucked.  And she bit 
ever harder into her father's finger.  Before her the crotch of her father 
loomed large now.
         John urged Ivana to hurry and finish.  Melanie wondered if this 
urgency on the part of her father was because he felt uncomfortable 
administering this punishment.  Did he worry that the domme would take 
things to far?  Melanie knew her mother was not due home for another 
hour, yet John acted as if she might walk into the study at any moment.
         Ivana picked up the squirt bottle to apply more perfume prior to the 
application of the pony lash.  "Never mind that," John growled.  
         "I'm going to do the job right or not at all," Ivana replied.  John 
groaned.  Once more Melanie felt the perfume spray her behind.  The little 
jets stung as they hit her injured bottom.  They also cooled her.  Then 
Ivana picked the pony-lash up off the desk.  She whipped it downward.  
Melanie cried out as it slashed across her bottom.
         SKRAACK! went the little lash a second time, then a third.  Melanie 
felt tears well in her eyes.  A fourth slash brought them sliding down her 
face.  Each stroke of the whip seemed ever more painful.  Soon Melanie 
was wailing at every new searing strike of the leather.  When her petulant 
lips did close they brought her teeth down hard upon her father's finger.  
As the last strokes fell Melanie tasted blood.  Her father made no 
movement.  If he felt the pain, he did not show it.
         Finally Melanie's father released her wrists.  Crying, Melanie stood 
straight up and her hands flew to her burning bottom.  She rubbed the red 
hot cheeks vigorously.  It seemed a toss-up as to whether her hands were 
soothing her or actually making the pain worse.
         "Tch, tch, if she can still stand to touch there she has not had 
enough," Ivana remarked.
         "She's just a schoolgirl," John said gruffly.
         "I have a cat o' nine tails in my purse as well," Ivana offered.
         "Enough!" John roared.  "Now get out!"  Then, realizing his 
impoliteness, he softened.  As he issued his last sentences he had rounded 
the desk, coming up next to Ivana.  Gently he asked her if she needed help 
getting back into her gown.
         "Yes, if that is what you wish," Ivana purred.  John put a hand across 
the front of Ivana's tummy and touched her far hip.  He stroked it.  
Trembling slightly, he looked at his daughter.  
         "Go to your room!" John ordered Melanie.  The blonde stared back at 
her father.  Her crying lessened to sniffles.  Her eyes were wide.
         "You're going to fuck her!" Melanie said suddenly in a shrill voice.  
John leapt at Melanie and raised his palm to slap her.  Melanie cringed.  At 
the last moment John thought better of himself, dropping his hand 
harmlessly away.  
         "Yes," John said.  "She's not a retired whore.  She's very much still in 
the business, and I see her on a regular basis."  His face stiffened.  "And I 
don't want you following in her footsteps!"  Melanie turned and ran to the 
study door.  Crying, she opened it, and ran to the stairs that led up to her 
room.
         Melanie woke to find her father sitting on her bed.  She had fallen 
asleep upon it after her whipping, still in her clothes.  Melanie lifted her 
face, her tears dried to barely visible streaks now.  Her step father looked 
down at her.  For a long moment they just stared at each other.  Then 
Melanie dropped her face into her arms, which lay crossed beneath her tear 
stained cheeks.
         "How's your bottom?" Melanie's father asked.
         "Hurts," Melanie whined.
         "That and much more will be done to you if you take up whoring," 
Melanie's father said.  "Especially while you're still young.  Whores exist 
for men's pleasure, not their own."
         "Do men like beating girl's bottoms?" Melanie asked in a small voice.
         "Some men like having their own bottoms beaten," John replied.  He 
patted his daughter on the head and rose.  Then he lifted the tail of her 
skirt.  Her panties were still round her thighs.  Much of the blush on her 
cheeks had already faded.  Only a light texture of pink lines from the pony-
lash remained.  "It is best," John said, seeming to console himself aloud 
for his actions.  His next words surprised his daughter:  "You would make a 
delightful little whore, and that's why I don't want you to fall into it.  Be 
an engineer or doctor instead."  Melanie snuffled in the cradle of her 
enfolded arms.  She heard her father's footfalls on the carpet as he left 
her room.
Chapter Nine

         In the days following her beating in her father's study Melanie's 
desire to leave home grew ever greater.  It was as if she had been poised 
between two worlds upon coming home from aspen; one the safe, secure 
world of Appleton, the other the big, wide world beyond.  In one there was 
homework and social obligations, and the duties required of any child by 
its parents.  In the other lay freedom and, potentially, more money than 
Melanie had ever dreamed of.  And with money came power, the power to 
do as she pleased.  Another letter arrived from Candy, saying she had gone 
ahead with the client she had spoken of earlier.  Candy gushed of being 
treated like a woman, of an expensive dinner and a night's stay at a lavish 
resort.  She spoke of more "clients" and more money to come.
         One morning found Melanie, ever the good girl, facing a large 
homework assignment for her French class.  She had gone out dancing the 
night before, then straggled home in the wee hours, leaving her friends 
behind, to attempt to complete the assignment.  Six a.m. found the work 
still far from completion and the school bus due in only an hour.  Melanie's 
French teacher was a bitch, and the entire class, except for a few cocky 
boys, went in mortal fear of her.  Certainly all the students who cared 
about their GPA made certain they didn't cross Miss Crick.  Melanie's mind 
suddenly woke from the depths of drowsiness.  If she hurried, she could 
just make it out of the house before her family woke.
         Eight a.m. found Melanie the first one at the auto dealership.  She had 
never bought a car before, but in her purse was her bank savings book, 
with a grand total of $2,758, the $758 being from odd jobs and 
babysitting.  Melanie marched boldly in, bowling over the delighted 
salesmen as she knew she would.  Certainly no customer in recent memory 
had gotten as much attention at the dealership as Melanie.  She let them 
lead her around for a bit, showing her the cars, and eventually the 
conversation got down to the specifics of making a purchase.
         Everything went well, even the verification by telephone by the bank 
of the sum in Melanie's savings account.  Then the salesmen brought up the 
need for Melanie to get her father ("or some other responsible person") to 
co-sign her car loan for her.  For awhile the conversation ambled about, 
the men delighted to have Melanie in their presence but seemingly 
unflinching in their demand that she get someone to co-sign.  It was then 
that an idea popped into Melanie's head.
         "Why don't you co-sign the loan for me?" Melanie said smartly to the 
dealership's supervisor.
         "Honey, that's not possible," the supervisor replied sweetly, saying 
the words almost by rote.
         "Anything is possible," Melanie said.  She wet her upper lip with her 
tongue.  A shudder ran through the men assembled around her.  It was as if 
that of which they had dreamed seemingly futile dreams was suddenly 
within their grasp.
         "What do you mean?" the supervisor asked.  He sounded like a sly fox 
that had just been offered the proposal of a lifetime.
         "What I mean," Melanie said, drawing her words out, wondering if she 
should say them even as she spoke, "is that I like to suck."
         "Suck?" the supervisor asked.  Suddenly his voice was trembling.  
         "Yes," Melanie said, her voice growing bolder.  "Suck.  But only with 
nice men, who let me do it at my own pace.  Are you a nice man?"
         "Oh, nice!  Very nice!" the supervisor said.
         "We're all nice!" a salesman chimed in.  The men drew closer around 
her.  Melanie sensed their urgency, their quickly disconnecting 
consciences.  She felt fear and stepped back.  Just barely, she passed 
through the ring of men and out a doorway into the main showroom.
         "We'll do this my way, or not at all," Melanie said, hoping desperately 
the men would obey her.  An elderly woman passed by, looking at the cars.  
The salesmen seemed to regain their consciences.  Their looks became 
more humble, entreating once more.  Melanie breathed a sigh of relief.
         The supervisor sensed the opportunity of a lifetime slipping from 
his grasp as quickly as it had come.  "We'll--I'll draw up the paperwork," 
the supervisor said.  "Forget the $2, 578, or whatever it was.  I can write 
the whole thing off as a business expense."
         "That's right, I'm a business woman," Melanie said, feeling the power 
in the words as they rolled over her tongue.  
         "Er, which car would you like?" the supervisor asked.
         "One that looks as good as I do," Melanie said, turning.  She pointed at 
a red Corvette.  "That one."
         With some coaxing Melanie ventured back inside the supervisor's 
office.  She felt herself in control now.  The men had been tamed.  To 
assure her ability to keep the situation firmly within her hands, she had 
the supervisor order the rest of the salesmen out.  
         "I feel nervous with them all standing in front of the door like that," 
Melanie said a moment later, looking over her shoulder at the salesmen, 
who now stood gawking just outside the supervisor's office.
         "Get to work!" the supervisor hollered at his men.
         "We want our share," a salesman called back.  The supervisor looked 
at Melanie.
         "You've got to, er, do all of them," the salesman said with a voice 
torn by desire.  "I can't put the deal through otherwise.  They'd spill the 
beans before you even got out of the lot."
         "They make me frightened," Melanie protested.
         "I'll keep them under control!" the supervisor cried.  "They'll be 
gentlemen, every one of them!"
         "Okay," Melanie said in a quiet voice.  The supervisor beckoned the 
men back in.  The filed in, crotches bulging.  
         "If you manhandle this girl she'll have you all in jail!" the supervisor 
said sternly.  "She's only 16."  Melanie gave a start.  There was a twinkle 
in the supervisor's eyes.  A gasp went up from the salesmen.

Melanie sat demurely watching the supervisor as he drew up the last of 
the paperwork.  "Pity you don't have any European cars," Melanie purred.  
The supervisor looked up at her, his brow sweaty with tension.
         "Yeah, right," the supervisor said in a shaky voice.  "No Rolls, either.  
Try covering that up as a business expense."
         "I rather fancy Rolls," Melanie said quietly, relishing her power over 
the men.  "But a 'Vette will have to do, I suppose.  Of course I could always 
try the Jaguar dealer down the street."
         "Oh, no!  No!" the supervisor said in a panic, looking up once more 
from all the paperwork.  "We'll take real good care of you here, won't we 
men?"  The salesmen nodded their heads vigorously.   "The guys down the 
streets are real assholes, totally sleazy!  You're in good, er, hands with us!  
We're upstanding auto salesmen!"  A few final strokes of the supervisor's 
pen were then rendered across the paperwork, and it was done.  He handed 
it to Melanie and she signed it.  When the supervisor took the paperwork 
back from her he stared at her lovely, flourished signature as if a goddess 
had signed it.
         When the keys had been handed over Melanie cocked her head and 
regarded the lineup of crotches circling round her right side.  "Well, men?" 
she said.  "No sale is complete without a deposit, is it?"  At once the men 
unzipped themselves.  A moment later Melanie was surrounded by a forest 
of very long-stemmed toadstools.  Several of the cocks already had 
droplets of pre-cum on their tips.  The supervisor's office door had already 
been shut, the shades drawn.  Now all that remained was for Melanie to 
open her mouth.
         Melanie leaned forward and took the first of the pricks twixt her 
slender fingers.  She parted her pink lips.  She extended her tongue.  She 
flicked off the droplet of pre-cum that glistened at the cock's tip.  Then 
she swirled her tongue around the cock's flange.  "Mmm, this is quite a big 
one," Melanie purred.
         Some time later, her hair slightly mussed, her tummy feeling rather 
full, Melanie drove out of the car lot in her new Corvette.  For the most 
part the men had obeyed, though a few had practically gagged her trying to 
deep throat her.  Melanie had no experience with sucking a cock all the way 
down her throat, but she knew she must learn.  Except for a few drying 
droplets of sperm on her white blouse, she looked as neat and wholesome 
as she had when she walked into the place.  But now, at least, she had 
become a bit more of a woman.  She had actual whoring experience under 
her belt.  Real experience, beyond the protective tutelage of Gwen.  And 
she hadn't been whipped.  Eight men's cocks in one job!  Let Candy top that!

Chapter Ten

         "Ick!  What's this?" Melanie asked.
         "It's caviar, silly," Candy replied.  
         "I suppose you're only used to your boyfriends buying you a 
cheeseburger?" Renoir asked smoothly.
         "Well, yes," Melanie replied.  Delicately she spooned a bit of the fish 
eggs into her mouth.  "Not bad," she said, but her face told a different tale.
         "You'll acquire a taste for them, just like everything else in life," 
Candy said, eagerly spooning down her own portion.
         "Yes, like coffee, cigarettes, whiskey, suppositories," Renoir said.  
The girls looked up at him at the mention of the last item.  Their eyes 
bulged slightly.
         "Men," Candy said under her breath, rolling her eyes as she turned her 
attention back to her caviar.  Meekly Melanie looked back down at her own 
plate and hoped Candy's bottom proved prettier than her own.
         Candy and Melanie had gotten back in touch with one another.  They 
met in New York City, but found themselves still a little afraid of the idea 
of whoring.  So, perhaps in an attempt to escape the inevitable, they took 
off down the coast in Melanie's red Corvette for Florida.  Soon they 
alighted in Miami, where it didn't take long for them to bump into a man 
who took a great interest in them.  They had met Renoir while shopping in 
a beachfront clothing store.  He was a mysterious European, about 6' 2".  
He seemed to have loads of money.  
         "So what brings you to Miami?" Renoir asked casually as he strolled 
down the sidewalk with the girls, after insisting on paying for their 
beachwear in the store.
         "Well, um, we actually came here to make some money," Melanie said 
with a little gulp.  Candy nudged her in her ribs.
         "Money?" Renoir asked with a smile.  "Well, I hope you're interested 
in an occupation which I have a need for.  I'm sure I could pay you more 
than a decent salary."
         "What she means is, we're hoping to be, well," Candy seemed torn 
about whether or not she should tell Renoir they were planning to be 
whores.  Melanie did to.  If they girls told him what they intended, there 
was little doubt Renoir would be able to pay.  And judging from his 
interest in them, there was even less doubt that he would eagerly snap up 
their offer.
         "Lots of men like us," Melanie tried to explain.
         "I'm sure they do," Renoir replied with a broad smile.  At the moment 
he was wearing a straw Hawaiian hat atop his head, which looked out of 
place on his otherwise Continental frame.  It added to his aura of 
decadence, of a life spent pursuing the more forbidden fruits of the world.
         "And, well, we can't be friends with them all," Candy continued.  "So 
we've tried to find some way we can separate them out.  They're all 
handsome and everything, and well..."  Renoir tapped his pants pocket.  
         "How about a man's assets?" Renoir asked.  "All other assets being 
equal, as you say, I'm sure there must be some variation in the men's 
financial assets."  The girls were both looking at him now, soaking up his 
words.  He had such an excellent way of stating things without being 
unnecessarily explicit.  "Now, for a pair of girls as beautiful as you, I'd be 
more than happy to wake up in the morning and find I'd parted with 
$10,000."  The girls' eyes gaped wide.
         "$10,000?!" Melanie gasped, and Candy had to nudge her again, lest 
they begin to entertain their fellow pedestrians.
         "Indeed," Renoir said.  "And I'd be more than happy to buy such girls 
dinner, and take them to a show, dancing, whatever they might desire."
         "Well, we don't have any specific plans for this evening, do we, 
Melanie?" Candy asked her friend.
         "I'm sure we could cancel," Melanie replied softly.
         "Then it's agreed," Renoir said.  "We'll meet this evening at the Ocean 
Tower."
         "Alright," Candy said, for both of them.
         The memory of that afternoon's conversation came flowing back as 
Melanie sat picking at her caviar.  Beside her stood a sheet of glass, 
beyond which twinkled the cityscape of Miami.  The moon was just rising, 
a curved sickle looking for a harvest.
         "Shall we dance?" Renoir asked Candy.
         "Why not?" Candy replied.  He rose and took Candy by the hand.  
"Come, Melanie, you can dance too," Candy said to her friend.
         "Yes!  I'll be the luckiest man on the dance floor," Renoir said.  
Reluctantly Melanie agreed.  A few minutes later both she and Candy were 
on the floor, dancing with Renoir.
         Now two girls as beautiful as Melanie jiggling away in skin tight 
dresses  are bound to attract a lot of male attention.  But Melanie and 
Candy dutifully refused the other men who tried to break in on their dance 
with Renoir.  For $10,000, Renoir was entitled to dance as much as he 
liked with them.  During the dancing Renoir at times held each girl close, 
sometimes holding both at once.  Hands slipped to the more special parts 
of the body and all parties concerned were pleased with the quality of 
what they found.  Finally, Renoir with a lump in his pants and the girls 
stiff-nippled, their little buds poking insistently at their gowns (for they 
wore no bras), the trio returned to their table.  Renoir called for the bill.  
The girls retreated momentarily to the ladies' room.  
         "God, what a dancer!" Candy enthused.
         "Such a gentleman, too," Melanie said, primping before a mirror.  The 
bathroom was luxurious.  The sinks were of marble and the mirrors framed 
with gold.
         Soon the girls and Renoir rendezvoused once more.  He led them from 
the restaurant, one of them on each arm.  A limousine was waiting for 
them outside the hotel.
         "Where do you live?" Candy asked Renoir, not really intending the 
effect that any male would take from such a question.
         "I'm staying in a hotel, actually," Renoir replied.  "I've lived there for 
about three months.  Even had it redecorated to meet my own specific 
tastes."
         "Wow," Melanie gushed.  
         "Would you girls like to view my domicile for yourselves?" Renoir 
asked.  "I'm always interested in the opinions of females.  The female 
species seems to have a special talent for interior decoration.  Perhaps 
you could suggest some improvements."
         "I took interior design in high school," Melanie said, again not 
intending the full consequences of what a lusty male might make of such a 
statement.
         "Why, then you must see my penthouse," Renoir replied.
         "Your penthouse?" Melanie gushed.
         "Of course," Renoir smiled.  "Do you think I would bother girls like 
yourselves with anything less?"
         "I'd like to do some more dancing," Candy said.  She placed a gloved 
hand on Renoir's thigh.  There was a sly grin on her face.  "Those men at 
the restaurant were such a bother.  Do you think your penthouse is big 
enough for us to dance there?"
         "Why of course," Renoir said.  "Let's have some more dancing."  He 
lowered the smoked glass partition between himself and the driver 
partway.  "1346 Hacienda--The Palladium," He ordered the driver.  The 
chauffeur nodded silently.  No doubt, as he looked back at Renoir, a girl on 
either side of him, he felt a twinge of envy.  Then the smoked glass 
partition went back up, and all was lost to view.
         Renoir's penthouse suite was sumptuously decorated.  But, indeed, it 
still had the feel of a bachelor pad.  Both girls sensed the lack of a 
feminizing influence.  It added to Renoir's masculine allure.
         Renoir stacked a half-dozen of the latest pop CD's on a player.  Music 
began thumping out, low in volume but enveloping in its appeal.  Renoir 
poured drinks for the girls and then, cocktail glasses in hand, they began 
to dance.  Soon Candy and Renoir were bumping and grinding, pressing their 
loins together, then backing off, then butting up against each other again.  
Melanie was encouraged to join in, and she did.  As the dancing progressed 
Candy decided to be relieved of her gloves.  She bit into the fingers of one 
glove, loosening it.  Then she pulled it off and tossed it on the floor.  A 
moment later and her other glove followed.  A look from Candy and Renoir 
told Melanie she should do the same.  Nipping at her own gloves with her 
teeth, Melanie soon got them off.  A little more dancing ensued, and then 
Candy got another idea in her head.
         "Unzip me," Candy said suddenly, turning her back to Renoir.  As 
Melanie watched with both awe and apprehension, Renoir pulled down the 
zipper of Candy's tight-fitting dress.  Then Candy turned about, facing 
Renoir once more.  But now the back of her dress was unzipped.  As Candy 
wriggled about, her eyes gleaming mischievously, her dress began to droop 
on her body.  Soon her boobies were revealed.  They bounded out almost in 
time to the music, first one, then the other.  Candy looked down at them, 
then back at Renoir.  The two of them came together, joined loins, then 
backed off.  Candy turned her back to Renoir once more, and leaned 
forward.  She wriggled her bottom at him.  Her dress dropped to her hips 
and hung there.  Then Candy turned about and moved toward Renoir.  They 
bumped genitals, and Renoir deftly shore Candy's dress from her hips.  The 
dress fell in a pool to Candy's ankles and she daintily stepped out of it, 
still keeping time to the music, a cocktail still balanced precariously 
twixt her fingers.
         Candy turned to Melanie.  The redhead was only in a pair of chiffon 
panties now, as well as her heels.  "You must undress too," Candy said to 
Melanie.  "It's much more fun!"  Melanie caught Renoir's eye and he was 
obviously eager for her to comply.  She danced within range of him, then 
presented him her back.  With a swift movement of the man's fingers, the 
deed was done.  Self-consciously Melanie at first tried to press her arms 
to her sides to keep her dress up as she continued to dance.  But then she 
let her arms drop, knowing her shyness must look silly.  The first of her 
boobies bounced out.  She turned to face Renoir.  The second bounced free.  
Guiltily she looked down at her naked breasts.  As she wriggled her hips 
they responded as might twin peaks of gelatin.  They wobbled all about, 
their tempting nipples stiffly inviting the touch of fingers.  Renoir moved 
close.  Suddenly he reached up and grabbed both of Melanie's tempting 
melons.  He squeezed them, testing their firm resiliency and momentarily 
halting their wiggly ways.  Melanie's nipples quivered in Renoir's grasp.  
         "May I kiss them?" Renoir asked hotly.  Melanie looked up at him with 
wide eyes, said nothing.  Renoir brought his lips to her teats and sucked 
each nipple into his mouth in turn.  Then he released her, and reached down 
and helped her dress over her hips.  A moment later Melanie was stepping 
out of her evening attire, leaving her only in panties and pumps.
         After a few minutes more of dancing Renoir walked over to the CD 
player.  He pressed a button, and the pop tune in progress stopped.  A 
classical piece came on.  He invited the girls over to several side chairs 
arranged around a table.  "I have some gifts for you girls," Renoir said.  He 
went into another room.  As the girls pondered all the wicked things a man 
might bring out, they glanced at each other nervously.  But before their 
minds could call up too many things Renoir returned, and in his hands he 
held jewelry!  He insisted that the girls remove their earrings.  Then he 
himself put dangling, jewelled earrings, much more expensive than the 
girls could have afforded, on each of them.  The girls felt special and 
protected, like little captured birds, as Renoir affixed the earrings on 
them.  Then he admired both girls, and said, "I think you're both old enough.  
Come, we'll pay a visit to my playroom."     
         "Your playroom?!" Melanie asked.  
         "For adults," Renoir added.  
         "Oh," Melanie gulped.  He led them down a hall in his apartment.  
Melanie walked with mincing steps, but Candy sashayed along, seemingly 
at peace with whatever lay ahead.  Fishing keys from his pocket, Renoir 
stopped before a door and unlocked it.  Then, his hand on the door's knob, he 
turned to both girls.  "I hope you don't find my favorite room unsettling.  
You're welcome to suggest improvements to it, of course."  And with that 
he opened the door and ushered them inside.  
         As Melanie caught her first glimpse of the room she nearly froze.  
There were straps, chains, O-rings, and all manner of wicked little 
implements, all centered around a wooden table that stood in the middle 
of the room.  Candy turned to look at Renoir, probably as surprised as 
Melanie, but managing to suppress her fear.  "It's sound-proofed, of 
course," Renoir said airily, as if that answered whatever doubts the girls 
may have had.
         "This looks more like a stable," Melanie said in a barely audible 
voice.  
         "Yes, and it needs fillies," Renoir smiled.
         "Do you bring dates here often?" Candy asked boldly.
         "Only my favorite ones," Renoir said.  He looked meaningfully at 
Candy's sumptuous, naked titties.  She turned quietly away from his gaze.
         "What are these little things?" Melanie asked, venturing to a 
nightstand beside the table and picking up a tiny cone.  Renoir walked up 
behind her and grasped her gently by her slim shoulders.
         "It's a suppository, for the urethra," he said softly.  Melanie shivered 
and dropped the cone at once.
         "Where shall we start?" Renoir asked Candy, his hands still on 
Melanie's shoulders.
         "Let's dance in here!" Candy offered brightly.  
         "Of course," Renoir replied.  "But to dance in here one must dress 
appropriately."  Melanie thought Renoir would try to take off her panties 
as he leaned over her.  But instead he picked up a small clamp.  He lifted it 
to Melanie's stiff nipple.  Before she could fully understand what he was 
at, she watched the clamp brought to her tittie and felt a sharp pain as it 
was released on her teat.
         "Ouch!" Melanie hissed.  The pain subsided, being more shock than 
trauma, and Melanie was left staring at a little clip that hung tenaciously 
upon her right nipple.  Then, wordlessly, she watched as Renoir fetched a 
second clamp from the table and adorned her other nipple.  
         Candy had sidled up to the pair and now Renoir pushed Melanie aside.  
He fetched two more clasps and confronted Candy.  He told her to 
straighten her back, to stick out her chest.  Candy slipped her drink onto 
the nightstand and dropped her hands to her sides.  Glancing down at her 
chest, she arched her back, pulled back her shoulders, and stuck out her 
tits.  She watched, almost with curiosity, as Renoir lifted the first of the 
clips to her mammaries.  She bit her lips and briefly shut her eyes as the 
first clip took hold.  The second followed, eliciting a similar response.
         "There," Renoir said, admiring his handiwork.  "I think we're ready to 
dance."  But Melanie had been studying a small apparatus, which, to the 
detriment of Renoir, had been left lying next to an instruction sheet on 
how to use it.  Melanie looked up, clutching the naughty device in her 
hands.
         "No," Melanie said.  "If we're to wear nipple clamps, you must be 
restrained too.  With a--(she looked down at the instruction sheet still 
lying on the nightstand)--with a cock ring!"
         "With a?" Renoir began.
         "Yes!" Candy replied.  She lunged at Renoir from behind.  She reached 
round his waist and began unbuckling his belt.  Melanie knelt before him, 
laid the ring on the floor, and unzipped his pants.  Her fingers snaked 
inside his underwear and brought forth a steaming rod.  Renoir looked 
down to watch himself as Candy dropped his trousers.  His underpants 
were then shorn from his hips, leaving him naked from the waist down.  
Melanie flicked her tongue around the flange of Renoir's circumcised cock, 
to make sure it was at full erection.  Then, taking the instruction sheet 
from the night stand, she studiously applied the cock ring to Renoir's 
genitals.  When she was done Renoir's testicles and penis bulged hotly 
from a pair of adjustable ivory rings that were painfully tight.  Renoir, 
relishing Melanie's impudent inexperience, nonetheless begged her to 
loosen the rings a bit, which she finally did.  Then she rose and invited 
Renoir to dance.
         There was no music, but the girls hummed a tune and the dancing 
seemed better than any that had gone before.   Renoir's cock jiggled 
stiffly, the balls below swollen with sperm, aching to be relieved.  A 
succession of droplets of pre-cum formed on the tip of Renoir's penis, only 
to be flung away as he continued dancing.  Often the girls, squealing, were 
inadvertently hit by Renoir's flying pre-cum.
         "What do you do with the 'fillies' you bring in here?" Candy asked 
Renoir.
         "Oh, I indoctrinate them into the finer pleasures," Renoir replied.  
         "What are you going to do to us?" Melanie asked.  She bumped her 
pantied loins up against Renoir's captive cock.  
         "What would you like to have done to you?" Renoir asked.  Melanie had 
not expected an answer like that.  She screwed up her pretty face and 
thought a moment.  
         "My daddy put me over a table and whacked my bottom," Melanie said, 
seemingly changing the subject.  "It was his study.  This room sort of 
reminds me of that.
         "Did it hurt?" Renoir asked.  Melanie looked surprised.  She put her 
hands to her pantied rear.  "Have you ever had your bottom walloped?"
         "No," Renoir said.  "Tell me about it."  
         "It hurt," Melanie replied.  "Like the dickens."
         "But you liked it?" Renoir asked.
         "No, of course not!" Melanie frowned.  "Who ever heard of someone 
liking a spanking?"
         "Properly administered, it can be a source of stimulation," Renoir 
said.  "I take it then you've never had a sexual spanking?"
         "No," Melanie said.  "Just the ordinary ones, and not too many of 
those, thank God.  But I don't blame my daddy.  I had been naughty, and I 
deserved it.  And he gave it to me, just like he should.  But I'll bet you'd be 
too much of a weenie to punish me if I ever misbehaved for you," Melanie 
taunted.  Pointedly she glanced down at his cock, held tight by the ivory 
rings.
         Renoir advanced quickly upon Melanie.  She raised her hands to her 
face and intercepted his.  At the same time she broke into a peal of 
giggles.  
         "What about the time your little stepsister birched you?  Wasn't that 
a sexual spanking?" Candy, dancing beside Melanie, asked.  
         "That was just my little sister being a brat!" Melanie replied.  She 
struggled playfully against Renoir.  Candy stopped dancing, and gazed at 
the pair.  Renoir got the better of Melanie and turned her about.  His rock 
hard penis played along her bottom cheeks as he struggled with her.  He 
pressed her forward, bending her belly over the hardwood table that 
dominated the room.  A moment later a chastened Melanie lay flat upon the 
table, her feet still on the floor but her upper body pressed hard against 
the wooden platform.
         "Tie her," Renoir said gruffly to Candy.  He  bobbed his head, 
indicating sturdy chains affixed along the sides of the table.  The platform 
was well equipped.  It had chains dangling from each corner, plus a pair at 
the table's midpoint.  It was these last that Renoir indicated to Candy.  
         "Melanie's my friend," Candy said compassionately, resisting Renoir's 
order.  Renoir gave an angry, guttural growl.
         "Umph!  Renoir!" Melanie piped up.  Renoir eased up, putting less 
pressure on Melanie's trapped frame.  "I'm sorry I insulted you."  Renoir 
stood more erect, leaving Melanie lying of her own free will across the 
table.  She made no move to rise.  "I insulted your manhood, calling you a 
weenie," Melanie said.  She seemed to relish the insulting term as she 
spoke it.  She wiggled her little bottom, as if to tease Renoir's big prick 
into spearing it.  "Since I insulted your manhood, I'm sure you must 
thoroughly spear me with it to prove it isn't a weenie," she said invitingly.  
"So, go ahead, I'll be as obedient as possible."  Melanie arched her bottom 
as high as she could, standing on her tiptoes.  Candy put a hand over her 
mouth.  Could this be little Melanie?  What had come over her?
         "I want you up on the table, kneeling," Renoir said gruffly to Melanie.  
Gracefully Melanie stood.  She gave her long, lemon mane a toss.  
Wordlessly she clambered up onto the table.  Renoir gave her bottom a 
little push with his hand to help her.  Melanie knelt on all fours on the 
table.  She looked back at Renoir.
         "May I have a pillow?" Melanie asked.
         "No," Renoir replied.  Obediently Melanie put her face down on the 
hard wood of the table.
         "Ooch," Melanie said as her face came into full contact with the 
wood.  Renoir turned to Candy.
         "On second thought," Renoir said.  "Candy, get me two pillows from 
the bedroom."  Candy went to the door of the playroom.  It was locked, and 
seemed so heavy and solid that she thought she might not even be able to 
swing it open if it had been unlocked.  Renoir, seeing her predicament, 
went and unlocked the door and pulled it open for her.  Melanie, meanwhile, 
reached across to the nightstand that held various wicked toys.  She 
picked up a urethral suppository and contemplated it.  She brought it close 
to her face.  She stuck out her tongue and licked it.
         Renoir's hand came to Melanie's and took the urethral suppository 
from her fingers.  A moment later Candy scampered back in from the 
bedroom, carrying two large pillows.  To Melanie's surprise, Renoir had her 
lift each of her knees in turn, and put one of the big pillows underneath 
each of her knees.  Neither pillow was for her face!  Kneeling on the 
pillows, Melanie's bottom was now arched even higher into the air.  
Melanie felt very open and vulnerable.  Her knees were spread 
provocatively wide, and she wondered what Renoir had done with the 
urethral suppository she had so foolishly wet down for him.
         "Take Melanie's hands and chain them to the front of the table," 
Renoir said to Candy.  He made to chain Melanie's feet, then paused.  He 
looked up at Candy once more.  "I expect you to obey this order," Renoir 
said to Candy.  The redhead meekly nodded her head.  Her friend was 
cooperating with Renoir now, so how could she refuse?  Candy eyed the 
whips and other flagellums hanging on the walls of the room as she went 
to the front of the table.  She saw that Melanie was gazing at the 
flagellums too.  She tried to catch Melanie's eye, but the blonde seemed 
lost in a dream.  
         Candy chained Melanie's hands down much more loosely than she 
knew Renoir would like.  She just couldn't bring herself to bind her friend 
fast, no matter what the consequences.
         "Ooch, please not too tight sir," Melanie piped up.  Renoir was 
chaining off her ankles, and apparently doing a very good job of it.  Had 
Melanie only begged him to show mercy to arouse him further?  In any 
event, her imprecation did not seem to lessen the tightness of the first 
chain upon her ankle.  Still working at Melanie's wrists, Candy watched as 
Renoir tied down Melanie's second ankle just as securely as he'd bound the 
first.
         Renoir made no effort to check Candy's handiwork when she told him 
she had finished.  Instead he ordered her to fetch a bottle of scent spray 
from a lower shelf of the nightstand.  She did, and he told her to stand 
behind Melanie and squirt down her bare bottom with perfume.  He, 
meanwhile, would select an implement from the wall for Melanie's 
punishment.
         Candy stood behind the bottom of her fair friend.  She aimed the 
first squirt of the scent spray.  She felt a bit angry at Melanie now.  Her 
friend was getting all the attention from Renoir, reducing Candy to a mere 
servant!  Candy aimed the scent spray right at the partially hidden dimple 
of Melanie's anus.  
         Suddenly there was a knock on the playroom door.  Renoir had not 
bothered to lock the door after Candy went for the pillows.  Candy turned 
to look what was up, suddenly more aware than ever of her near total 
nudity.  The door swung open.  A European woman stood in the doorway.  
She looked fit and trim, like an aerobics instructor.  She was over 30, 
perhaps as old as 40.  
         Melanie, as if waking from sleep, lifted her head slightly and stared 
behind her arched bottom in surprise.  As the image of the woman 
impacted itself more fully upon Melanie, she lifted her back until it was 
almost vertical, raising up her head for an even better view of the woman.  
Her hands, very loosely chained, moved easily across the table to support 
herself.  But her feet remained immobile, trapped at each corner at the 
bottom of the table.  Melanie's long, lustrous hair spilled down from her 
head to splay across the table.  From a corner of her mouth a bead of 
saliva drooled.
         Renoir was as surprised as his two young charges.  He turned, cock 
stiffly erect, one hand on a pony lash he'd just taken from the wall.  
"Miriam!" Renoir  gasped.
         "I thought we had agreed not to exchange bodily fluids," Miriam said 
stiffly to Renoir.
         "Why, I wasn't-" Renoir began.
         "You've been having whores here every night, haven't you?" Miriam 
said accusingly.
         "Well, now and then," Renoir lied.
         "Excuse us, girls," Miriam said to the shocked Candy and Melanie.  
"We're married, and we agreed with each other that we would not exchange 
bodily fluids with others.  At least, one of us agreed."  Renoir gave an 
audible gulp.  "I'm sure you're delighted that your loving wife has come all 
the way from France to pay you a visit," Miriam said to Renoir.  As she 
spoke she advanced on Melanie.  Candy backed away, but Melanie couldn't 
move, her ankles still being tied off to the table.  Miriam lightly ran her 
riding crop over Melanie's bare bottom.  Melanie wanted to scream and 
laugh at the same time.  She was totally vulnerable, yet she was also 
mooning this austere woman with her naked heinie.  And the woman was 
clearly jealous of her.  Miriam gave Melanie's bottom a little tap with her 
crop.  "There's a masturbation party over at the Lesperance's," Miriam said 
to Renoir.  "For those of us who are socially correct in our sexual 
appetites.  I suggest you and your young charges join me there.  I'll be 
waiting for you in the living room."  Miriam turned and left the room as 
quickly as she had come in.  Pointedly, she left the door open behind her.
         "What's a masturbation party?" Candy and Melanie asked Renoir 
almost in unison, as soon as Miriam had departed.  Renoir put back his pony 
lash and sullenly walked over to Melanie.  With slow, certain hands he 
began undoing Melanie's ankle chains.  Candy, sensing an opportunity to 
help her friend regain her freedom, went to the head of the table without 
being told and began unraveling Melanie's wrist chains.
         "A masturbation party is where we each masturbate ourselves, 
watching each other, or masturbate each other.  No fucking is allowed."
         "Not even up the bottom?" Melanie asked, giving her own a wriggle.  
Again Candy was shocked at Melanie's eagerness to "come on" to Renoir.  
Perhaps this older man somehow fulfilled a need in Melanie to seduce her 
own father, Candy thought.
         "Not even up the bottom," Renoir said grudgingly.  He freed the first 
of Melanie's ankles and she happily kicked it up in the air.  Before they left 
the playroom Renoir made the girls take off the rest of their things.  The 
girls breathed a sigh of relief as he began their undressing by gently 
taking off their nipple clamps.  "Now you do the rest," Renoir said, 
stepping back and lighting a cheroot.  
         "Even our heels?" Melanie asked meekly, as Candy shimmied self-
consciously out of her panties.
         "Even your heels," Renoir replied, exhaling smoke.  He was back in 
command now, and clearly feeling as comfortable as before.  He stood and 
watched the girls' movements with eager eyes as they stripped off every 
last stitch of clothing, including their stockings.  The girls, for their part, 
undressed with a mixture of seductivity and innocent apprehension.  When 
Renoir led them back down the hall the girls walked with shivering steps, 
bottoms wiggling, fearful of what lay ahead.  Each of them had their arms 
crossed over their breasts. 
         Miriam was sipping a martini when Renoir and the girls re-entered 
the living room.  She regarded the girls with a mixture of matronly scorn 
and erotic stimulation.  "I have laid clothes out for the girls," Miriam told 
Renoir.  "Have them put them on."  Candy and Melanie looked with surprise 
at a number of items that had been lain on the couch.  There were twin 
camisoles, two pair of white mesh gloves, sheer white nylons with 
garters to hold them up, and little white lace-up booties.  The booties rose 
to just above one's ankles, and were perched on six-inch heels.  There was 
also a broad ribbon for each girl, which they were told was for the 
adornment of their necks.  A golden brooch lay next to each ribbon, which 
Miriam told each girl to fasten upon the ribbon, at her throat.  In addition 
there was a broad-brimmed straw hat for each girl, with a ribbon of its 
own.  Finally each girl had been provided with a parasol; in case, Miriam 
said, they stayed the night at the party and wished to stroll the 
Lesperance's gardens in the morning.  Apparently Miriam was as worried 
about melanoma as she was about AIDS.  That both Candy and Melanie were 
nicely tanned, with obvious white patches of skin where their bikinis had 
covered their boobies and bottoms, seemed not to faze Miriam.  As long as 
they were in her care, apparently, there would be no more exposure to sun.
         There was also a simple white shift for each girl, to put on when she 
had finished dressing in the more intimate apparel.  Miriam began their 
change into the new outfits by relieving them of the beautiful earrings 
Renoir had given them.  The girls watched the earrings go with a great 
deal of sadness.  But their outlook improved when Renoir presented them 
each with a new pair of earrings, chosen to match their new outfits.  As 
before, Renoir clipped the earrings through each girl's ears himself.  Then, 
at Miriam's command, the girls began helping each other into their new 
apparel.           When the girls were about dressed they realized there were 
no panties.  "Ma'am, where are our panties?" Candy asked Miriam.  The 
woman just smiled.
         "Put on your shifts, girls," Miriam instructed.  She said no more.  
Meekly Candy and Melanie wiggled into their slips.
         A limousine was waiting for the two couples down below.  The girls 
got quite a few looks as they passed through the hotel lobby, twirling 
their parasols, wearing opaque chemises that tempted the viewer to peer 
as intently as possible, hoping for a vision of what lay beneath.  When all 
four partiers were ensconced in the limo, the mood turned somber.  Miriam 
and Renoir had little to say to one another.  In the years of their 
relationship, they had grown to know each other's feelings without 
speaking.  The girls, forced to sit next to one another, not on either side of 
Renoir as they had before, tried to remain on their best behavior.  All knew 
what delights lay ahead.  The girls and Renoir had gotten not a little 
aroused from their frivolity in the playroom.  But Miriam's presence 
prevented any shenanigans from taking place.  Melanie felt like she was 
riding in the family car on her way to church.
         The Lesperance's had a small compound along the shore.  It was a 
structure, square in shape, of whitewashed masonry.  Spotlights in the 
yard highlighted the house and various monuments of shrubbery.  The girls, 
Renoir and Miriam were let out of the limo and escorted up the front steps 
of the home.  There a woman Miriam's age greeted them.  Like Miriam, she 
was dressed conservatively in evening wear.
         Inside the home opened up into an extended entryway.  The foursome 
was led down this to a living room, where light-hearted merriment had 
already begun.  People, all still dressed, though some more provocatively 
than others, were mixing.  The girls soon found themselves being 
introduced to a variety of people, many of whom they found delightful.  
They remained a bit bashful, however, for it was quite obvious to everyone 
that their chemises were exceedingly simple, too plain for partywear.  
Obviously, they must have more enticing clothing on underneath.  And with 
the removal of their shifts, of course, the girls would be left standing 
before their fellow guests without panties.  Nonetheless, the girls kept up 
their courage and paraded from guest to guest, chatting happily and 
aimlessly twirling their little parasols.  Every man, like Renoir, was 
impeccably dressed in a tuxedo.  It was the men who insisted on occupying 
most of Candy and Melanie's time.
         Suddenly the crowd quieted.  Melanie could sense a change in the 
mood of the people.  She felt the partiers gathering around herself and 
Melanie.  Before she knew it they were completely surrounded by a wall of 
admiring people.  Miriam pushed through the crowd.  She took each girl's 
parasol from her hand and gave it to a man to hold.  "You girls are our 
newest  friends, so you may begin the proceedings," Miriam said to Candy 
and Melanie.  With that she instructed Melanie to lift up her arms.  Then, 
taking Melanie's shift by the shoulders, she hoisted it up until it cleared 
Melanie's hands.  Melanie felt quite awkward as this happened, the shift 
covering her face, while below her bare thighs were exposed, with her 
pantiless bottom and pussy.  Candy was next, and a moment later the girls' 
parasols were returned to them.  But the shifts were passed into the 
crowd, and disappeared.  Melanie searched the faces for Renoir, but he was 
nowhere to be seen.  
         Miriam took Melanie's gloved hand and led her over to a sumptuous 
couch.  A little square of lace had been laid on the couch, and Miriam 
seated Melanie on the lace.  Candy was led over by a man, who seated her 
also on a lace square on the couch.  Miriam then loosened the ties of 
Melanie's camisole at the top, where it covered her boobies.  She worked 
the camisole open until Melanie's breasts were fully exposed.  At the base 
of the camisole, it was still tied tightly across Melanie's tummy, just 
above her navel.  Miriam then loosened the Candy's camisole.
         A woman stepped forward.  She pointed to Candy.  "I want her nude on 
the bed," the woman said.  Miriam nodded.  She made Candy rise, and told 
her she must not masturbate.  Then Miriam ordered Melanie to begin 
arousing herself.
         Melanie looked up at the strange sea of faces.  She sat before them, 
breasts bared, pussy open between her spread thighs.  How could she 
possibly play with herself before these people?  Miriam ordered her once 
more to begin, and still Melanie just stared back at her, unmoving.  
         A riding crop was produced and placed in Miriam's hand.  Melanie's 
eyes bulged.  She knew if she didn't start at the wicked task assigned her 
Miriam would show no hesitation in beating her about the face and 
shoulders with the crop until she obeyed.  Tentatively, her teeth biting her 
lower lip, Melanie drew a finger across her nipples.  Miriam moved the 
hand that held the crop.  Melanie winced.  She took her breasts in her hands 
as best she could and squeezed them.  She twiddled the nipples between 
her fingers.  She lowered her head and licked the nipples.  Then she looked 
up again, hoping that would be all that was required.  It wasn't.
         Melanie dropped a hand to her crotch.  She traced the outline of her 
pussy lips with her fingertips.  Uneasily she snaked her fingers inside.  It 
felt odd, pleasuring herself with gloved hands, still wearing her little 
booties, her stockings pulled tightly up her thighs and held in place by the 
virgin white garters.  Melanie steeled herself and worked at her pussy 
more assiduously.  Despite her recalcitrance, she felt the first wave of 
cum-laden pleasure wash over her.  With greater vigor, all under the 
watchful eye of Miriam and the guests, she played with herself.  A small 
moan escaped her.  Poor Candy!  She was watching all this, knowing her 
turn must come next! 
Chapter Eleven

         "Are you decent?" Rob called out gallantly.
         "In a manner of speaking," came the girls' petulant reply.  Rob opened 
the bedroom door and invaded their sanctuary.  Amidst the plush, ornate 
furniture of the bedroom the girls stood in their bikinis. 
         "Well, what do you think of your little presents?" Rob asked.  Candy 
tugged at the seat of her bikini bottom.
         "Mine doesn't cover my bottom at all," Candy whined.  Rob strode 
around behind her and solicitously inspected her heinie.  
         "My, I guess the French tailors must have made a mistake in the 
measurements," Rob said.
         "Our bikinis come all the way from France?" Melanie asked.  She 
wriggled as she attempted to get more of her own derriere within the seat 
of her panties.
         "Yes, they were prepared while we slept and Fed. Exed over," Rob 
replied.  "Why do you think Renoir had you measure each other last night, 
for his lewd enjoyment?  No, it was so these might be purchased for you, 
from the finest swim shop in Paris.  Although, (and here he walked around 
behind Melanie) I dare say, it won't be so highly regarded once word gets 
out of this mistake!"
         "Come on," Melanie said.  "You ordered these specially made this way.  
Mine doesn't cover my bottom any better than hers does.  And look at our 
bras."  With a plaintive look Melanie lifted her long-nailed fingertips to 
the cones of her breasts.  Her areolaes were encased in the cups of her 
bra, but little else.
         "Well, the French have never been known for their modesty," Rob 
mused.  Renoir entered the room.
         "My, you girls look like you just stepped off a beach in France," 
Renoir said with an admiring grin.
         "That's the problem," Candy replied.  
         "Did I hear you complaining of the bras?" Renoir asked.  He lifted a 
hand to Candy's nearest bra cup and slipped a finger beneath it.  He tugged 
at the fabric, testing its resiliency.  "Truly, I have seen bra cups twice as 
small as this!  Look, at least half of the cone of your breast is covered, 
and that is the part that matters, is it not?  So what if the base of each 
breast is left bare?  See how white the skin is there.  You could use a tan."
         "All of me is white when it comes to my breasts," Candy said.
         "So now, if you play in the sun long enough, only the tips of your 
breasts will be white," Renoir replied.  "Rome wasn't built in a day."
         "If it wasn't for stupid American laws we could go topless," Melanie 
said with a sophisticated air.
         "Would you enjoy that?" Rob asked, touching a finger to the slim tie-
back that held up her top.
         "No, that's O.K.," Melanie said, shrinking back.  "Bottomless is enough 
for me."  She turned about and walked away.  The cheeks of her bare 
bottom jiggled whitely as she walked, mooning all who cared to look.  
Melanie stopped in front of a mirror and picked up a wooden hairbrush.  She 
began running it over her lustrous mane.  Rob, watching, dreamed of other 
uses the brush might be put to.
         Renoir was still parlaying with Candy.  "My, you two are quite 
modest, for a pair of whores."
         "We're not really whores," Melanie said, turning about to face her 
companions once more.  Rob drifted toward her.  A bulge had grown in his 
pants, at the crotch.  "We're just pretending to be."
         "Well, will you accept pretend money then?" Renoir asked.  He still 
was lightly fingering the edge of Candy's bikini top, along the side of her 
right breast.
         "No," Candy said firmly, her voice high-pitched but resolute.  She 
presented the palm of her hand.  "It's time you paid up for your night of 
fun, making us do all those naughty things.  $5,000 each!"  Renoir looked 
down at her open palm and gave a sigh.
         "Between those mini-purses you girls sport and your little bikinis, I 
hardly think you'd have any place to put such a sum as that," Renoir 
protested.
         "That's our problem," Candy replied.  In the background Rob brushed 
up against Melanie.  He passed an arm about her slim shoulders and let the 
protuberance in his crotch brush against her thigh.  Melanie looked up at 
him with wide eyes as he slouched his large frame about her, perching his 
butt on the countertop that ran beneath the mirror behind her.  She felt 
helpless in his grasp.
         "I only have pennies," Renoir continued, to a muted howl and a pout 
from Candy.  "Ah well, I see it's no use," Renoir concluded with a diffident 
sigh.  "I shall fetch the cash."
         Melanie squirmed as Rick's hot breath fell on her cheek.  She twisted 
her hands, the hairbrush still between them.  "And how much will you 
charge for a day at the beach?" Rob asked.
         "Well, I guess we could go for free," Melanie peeped.
         "Nothing doing!" Candy said, spinning on her heels.  She padded with 
firm feet across the thick pile carpet to where Rob was encroaching on 
her friend.  "For you the price will be even higher, $10,000!"
         "For each of you?" Rob asked with a gasp.  Was it feigned or real, 
Melanie wondered.  Candy placed her hands on her hips.  She gave her head a 
toss, flinging back her long red hair.
         "We're expensive," Candy said.  "Especially for guys who can't keep 
their hands to themselves."  She let her eyes fall to Rick's enlarged crotch 
in a meaningful way.
         Renoir re-entered the room with a briefcase.  Both girls turned their 
gaze to him as he set it down on a dressing table with a thud.  He sprang 
the lid, and both girls gasped.  Inside were stacks of dollar bills, each 
neatly bound.  Renoir wrenched the briefcase upward.  The cash spilled out 
of it onto the carpeted floor.  "Here you are girls, $100,000," Renoir said.  
"Take as much of it as you can carry."  
         Dazedly, as if in slow motion, Candy and Melanie advanced with awe-
struck eyes toward the pile of dollars.  When they reached it they sank 
down onto the deep rug.  Oodles of money lay before them, much more than 
they had ever seen in their entire life!  Each stack of bills was crisp and 
new.  Candy lifted a stack and ripped off its protective band.  She rifled 
the bills.  She looked at Melanie, and they shared a smile.  A gurgle of joy 
rose in each girl's throat.  "We're rich!" the girls cried.
         Rob and Renoir stood admiring the scantily clad girls as they played 
in the dollars.  Lovingly Candy and Melanie ran their hands over the bills.  
Candy ripped open several more stacks.  Melanie pitched forward and began 
trying to swim in the money.  She kicked up her heels.  "Look!  I'm Unca 
Scooge!" Melanie cried gleefully to Candy.  Unlike the Disney duck, 
however, Melanie's nearly-bare bottom made for a much more delectable 
dip.  Renoir and Rob exchanged glances.  
         Renoir cleared his throat, interrupting the girls' reverie.  "Girls," he 
said, as they looked up at him.  "Rob would like to go to the beach now.  I 
believe he's paid in advance?"  Candy stuffed a wad of $100 dollar bills 
into the abbreviated cup of her bikini bra.  The nylon bulged out, looking as 
if it had been stuffed by a girl who didn't realize her breasts were already 
quite big enough.  The mound of bills left the bra cup even less able to 
cover her flesh.  
         "Stuff your bra, Melanie!" Candy crowed.  "Today I'm going to the 
beach loaded!"
         "Mmm, think of all the ice cream we can buy!" Melanie agreed, 
imitating her friend by padding out her own bustline with cash.  Renoir and 
Rob exchanged glances as they watched the girls.  Surely this delightful 
scene was worth every penny!  Their bras loaded (indeed, overloaded!) the 
two girls began pushing wads of bills into their teensy bikini panties.
         "Now I know why you men made us put on panties that are too small," 
Melanie said ruefully as she stuffed as many bills as she could behind the 
strip of fabric that covered her asscrack.  No doubt her panties could have 
held several grand more if only they'd been bigger!  Candy stuffed handfuls 
of bills down the front of her bikini bottom, where the freshly minted 
bills' sharp corners tickled her pussy.
         "At least this money is clean," Candy said.  
         "Yes, its all been laundered," Renoir said with a wink to Rob.  
         The girls looked like cartoons of greed as they were lifted to their 
feet several minutes later by the men.  Longingly they gazed down at the 
money that remained, but knew they could carry no more.  Their bikinis 
were insanely distorted by the loads of cash.  
         "Uh, I don't think we can go to the beach looking like this," Melanie 
said.  Rob and Renoir each chuckled.
         "How do you know you actually got your full fee?" Renoir asked.  
"There's still a lot of money left on the carpet."
         "Hey, that's right!" Candy cried.  "We may have more than $20,000 on 
us, Melanie, but we may not either!  These are only hundred dollar bills!"  
Rob had stepped back to the closet and returned with Candy's mink coat.  
She was clutching a pile of money in each arm, so he just draped the coat 
over her small shoulders.  Then he stepped around in front and silently 
buttoned the coat up.
         "A little Eskimo.  A wealthy little Eskimo," Renoir observed of Candy 
when Rob had finished securing the mink around her.  The sides of the coat 
bulged out from the money.  Candy's arms were concealed inside.  
Fashionably, the mink had no pockets, so using it to carry even more money 
was out of the question.  "You girls can count your money back at your 
hotel room," Renoir said.  "If you're short, we'll make up the difference.  If 
not, keep the change."  Melanie was outfitted in her mink in turn.  Then Rob 
fetched new heels for the girls, which he said had been sent along with 
the bikinis.  
         "Heels?  We're going to the beach!" Melanie protested as Rob fitted 
her feet first.  The pumps did fit perfectly.  Her measurements must have 
been taken from the shoes she wore up to the suite.  
         "You do not like them?  They were made by hand," Renoir said.
         "No.  I mean, yes, I like them!" Melanie said, stepping from one foot 
to another now that both her feet were ensconced in the new heels.  "It's 
just that, well, I should be wearing sneakers or something!"
         "This is a private beach we'll be going to," Rob said.  "You'll find that 
the normal conventions and restrictions don't hold sway there."  
         "Oh, great!  It's a nudist beach!" Candy said, rolling her eyes.
         "How gauche," Renoir observed.  "We would never be so blatant."  
Melanie looked at Candy.  Rob fitted the redhead with shoes of her own.  
Candy's eyes met Melanie's.  Well, they had been paid, and very handsomely.  
If they wanted to earn their living as tarts, they'd best learn to put up 
with men's odder requirements.
         When both girls were shoed they were escorted out of the penthouse 
by Rob and Renoir.
         Renoir stopped at the door.  Candy turned about, followed by Melanie.  
"Aren't you coming?" Candy asked.  There was a doleful sound to her voice.  
After a night of giving him pleasure, she had come to like the older man.  
Melanie too seemed sad.
         "No girls," Renoir said.  "I have other business to attend to now.  But 
Rob will keep you company."  Both girls still stood staring at him, like 
rabbits caught in an open field.  Renoir leaned forward and pecked Candy on 
the cheek, avoiding her pouty, willing lips.  He did the same to Melanie.  
Then he drew back, stepped beyond the threshold of his suite.
         "Come girls, surf's up!" Rob said pleasantly.  The girls let their 
attention slip momentarily to Rob.  Behind them Renoir closed his 
apartment door.
         As the girls went clattering down the front steps to Renoir's 
townhouse they saw two young women step out of a cab.  The females, 
also dressed in minks, breezed past them.  Both Candy and Melanie turned 
about to see the women slip inside the building.  Candy and Melanie each 
let out a little gasp.  Those women--there could be no doubt!  They were 
whores just like themselves, albeit more experienced.
         In the cab Candy asked Rob, "Those women we passed...Going in as we 
came out...They were headed for Renoir's suite, weren't they?"
         "I haven't the slightest idea," Rob replied, a touch of a smile curling 
the edges of his lips.  He was flanked by either girl on the back seat of the 
cab.  Easily he lifted his arms and placed one around each girl.  "Renoir 
doesn't keep me apprised of all his little affairs, you know."  Melanie felt 
like grabbing Rob by the crotch and forcing him to answer.  But, as her 
heart beat faster, she already knew what Rob would not say.  By now the 
women were already disrobing, displaying their charms to Renoir.  He 
could afford to have a new pair of whores entertain him every day, every 
evening.  Melanie's eyes caught Candy's.  They had been used, mere 
playthings, and when Renoir tired of them he had cast them aside for new 
toys.  It was what they wanted...to be whores.  But they felt a strange 
emptiness inside.
         Back at the hotel room the girls cast off their minks and proceeded 
to dump their dollars out onto the floor.  Then both girls sank down onto 
the carpet and happily began counting their money as Rob looked on.
         Rob sat in an overstuffed chair, lazily puffing on a cigarette, nursing 
a scotch which he had procured from the girl's wet bar.  It was delightful 
to watch as the girls unburdened their bikinis of the bills.  He felt almost 
as if Candy was pulling the money straight from her snatch, and, for all he 
knew, she was.  Melanie tired of trying to yank all the money out and, first 
casting a disapproving glance at Rob, she then simply shucked off her 
panties and let it all fall out.  Then, kneeling on the rug, her bush boldly 
displayed, she thrust forward her boobs and reached behind herself, 
popping her bra.  The skimpy fabric retreated up her chest, held in place 
now only by a string tied behind her neck.  Out from underneath the 
springing cups of her bra poured a cascade of money.  Melanie was too 
eager to count the money to worry about the drawstring behind her neck.  
She let the cups of her bra dangle uselessly between her breasts as she 
set about counting her booty.
         "Let's divide it equally," Melanie chirped to Candy.  "It's getting 
mixed up already."  
         "Okay," Candy said and, taking her cue from Melanie, stripped off her 
bottoms as well, then released her bra.  Counting aloud, the girls began 
piling up stacks of money.  When they were done, they had $32,700.  "Not 
bad," Candy observed.  "At least we came out ahead."
         "I would have liked to have had the entire $100,000, though," Melanie 
said.  "Next time a man pays me to visit his penthouse I'm going to wear 
clothes with lots of pockets, and bring a purse as big as a suitcase!"
         "Rob, what's half of $32,700?" Melanie asked.
         "Oh, about $21,000," Rob said airily.
         "No it's not," Candy said testily, knowing Rob was only trying to 
confuse them.  "It's exactly $16,350!"
         "Well girls, why don't you take a quick shower to get all that green 
off, and then we'll go to the beach?" Rob asked.  He was speaking 
metaphorically, of course, but the girls did feel like primping a bit before 
taking off again.
         "You can wait outside now," Candy said to Rob, pointing.  "Now that 
you know we didn't try to cheat you when we counted the money."
         "Very well," Rob said with a sigh.  He stood.  From the inside breast 
pocket of his suitcoat he drew a pile of teensy fabric.  "When you have 
showered, I want you to dress--in this."  He plopped the collection of 
strings and bits of material on a nightstand.  The girls gaped at the stuff.  
It was obviously a new pair of bikinis, even smaller than the ones they had 
worn before.
         "We'll see about that," Candy said.  Neither she or Melanie did 
anything more than gaze open-mouthed at the tiny outfits.  Then both girls 
turned and trooped off to the bathroom.  "Outside!" Candy hissed, turning 
back toward Rob when she and Melanie had reached the bathroom that 
adjoined their bedroom.  With a soulful look in his eyes, Rob made for the 
girl's bedroom door.  As he excused himself from their bedroom he heard 
their bathroom door, on the other side of their bedroom, shut tight.  A 
moment later he heard the sound of a shower being turned on.
         After what seemed an inexcusably long time (at least to Rob, who 
was sporting a noticeable bulge in his trousers), the girls' bedroom door 
opened.  To his surprise Candy and Melanie each stepped into the living 
room totally naked.  Their hair had been neatly combed and coiffed.  Their 
makeup, though they hardly needed any, was perfect.  Their skin shone 
from their bath.  They were already wearing their new pumps, which 
arched their heels five inches into the air.  As for their even newer 
swimsuits, they held these in their hands, bra in one hand, panty in the 
other.  "Rob, what is this?" Candy asked.  "The bra hardly exists, and the 
panties, well, they're weird."
         "Maybe you should fit us into these yourself.  Especially the panties," 
Melanie said in a voice that was softer than Candy's, and almost seductive.
         "It would be my pleasure," Rob said, rising from a chair where he had 
been impatiently waiting the return of the girls with a copy of Forbes.  
The magazine, with all its 20th century wisdom on the highest of man's 
material endeavors, was cast aside like so much flotsam for more 
important matters.  
         Rob took the tiny bra from Candy's fingers, admiring her pink 
cleavage, hating to cover it up.  He had her turn about and then fitted the 
bra to her boobies, carefully insuring that it did in fact manage to cover 
her areolaes.  The bra cups were composed of two tall, very slim triangles 
of material.  The base of each triangle cut straight across Candy's bosoms, 
just below her nipples.  The apex of each cup touched the very point where 
the top of her bosom joined with her upper chest.  Why, one would wonder 
(as no doubt Candy did) would the triangle stretch so high, yet be so 
skinny?  It seemed a silly misuse of material.  Rob, however, did not seem 
to find his purchase lacking in the least.  He turned Candy around again and 
stood admiring her for a moment.  Then, licking his lips, he accepted the 
panties from her hand and knelt to fit her into those as well.
         The panties were most unusual.  At first glance they might seem like 
any ordinary panties worn by girls at the beach.  There was a string that 
encircled the waist, which had to be tied at either hip.  But then, running 
from the front of the "panties" to the back, there was only a soft, velvet 
rope.  There was no seat to the panties, to cover a girl's bottom cheeks.  
On either side of the rope in front there was a small swath of triangular 
material, which served to cover (most) of the hairs of one's pussy.  It is 
important to note that the triangles of material were on either side of the 
rope.  They did not cross over it.
         Rob had Candy lift her legs one at a time so that he could slide the 
panties up them.  The drawstrings had been pre-tied, but when Rob had 
hoisted the panties as far as they would go he undid each tie in turn and 
then retied it, very tightly.  The effect of this was to pull the velvet rope 
deep into Candy's asscrack.  Also, the rope had managed to wedge itself 
within the folds of Candy's pussy.  Already Candy could feel that her every 
movement would cause the rope to briskly rub her clitoris.  Candy gave a 
little shiver.  The panties were not much different from the ones she had 
worn before; a wedge of material covered her pussy in front, behind her 
bottom was left bare.  But the feeling of these panties!  Could she really 
stand to wear them?  They were sure to send spasms of pleasure coursing 
through even the most hard-hearted of Puritans that put them on.  Now she 
knew the purpose of the panties, a purpose she had only guessed at before.  
Candy watched as Rob turned his attention to Melanie.  The one consolation 
she had was that Melanie would be suffering right along with her.  And she 
was sure Melanie would be even less able to cope with the outfit.
         "I hope this is a very private beach," Melanie said a few minutes 
later as the true import of the panties became apparent to her.  Rob gave a 
vigorous upward tug on the panties, causing Melanie to squirm visibly.
         "Private enough," Rob said, and planted a kiss on one of Melanie's 
jutting bottom cheeks.  Rob stood.  As the girls watched, he undid the 
leather belt of his trousers.  He pulled the belt from his trousers and 
draped it about his neck.  Then he unzipped his pants, and let them drop to 
the floor.  To the girls' surprise, he wore boxer swim shorts underneath.  
The girls smiled, giggling.  "Let's go!" Rob said.  
         The girls made to run to their bedroom to fetch miniskirts and T-
shirts.  Then they stopped.  They would have to walk, and slowly, if they 
didn't want to orgasm.  And neither girl was ready for that.  With ginger 
steps, the velvet ropes rubbing their clittys all the way, they walked into 
the bedroom and got their clothes.  Rob, staring after them with 
admiration, called a rental company for delivery of a Wrangler jeep.
         The girls' cut-off T-shirts fluttered alluringly in the breeze as Rob 
whisked them in his jeep toward the beach.  Candy sat in front, her T-shirt 
flipping up occasionally to give a passing car a view of her abbreviated 
bikini bra.  Melanie sat in back, the passion that the velvet rope was 
daring her with every minute concealed by sunglasses.  Melanie's lips, 
however, were wet, and she licked them often.  Below, where the rope lay, 
a micro-sized mini-skirt barely covered the tops of her thighs.  Melanie 
wished she had rummaged in her things longer for a more concealing skirt.  
The one she wore was almost useless.  If she spread her legs, the skirt 
rode even higher, giving an unrestricted view of her panties.  If she closed 
her legs, she squished the velvet rope deeper into her.  Candy, perhaps by 
design, was attired no more conservatively.  Her lips looked wet too.
         The beach was small and secluded.  It consisted of a sandy shore 
interspersed with slabs of flat, smooth rocks.  Beyond lay a miniature 
lagoon, which in places offered itself up slowly to a sinking shoreline and 
which elsewhere simply abutted the shore, as the air might abut the top of 
a cliff.  The cliff parts were obviously for putting in boats, while the 
gently sinking shore was for wading out to bathe.  In the distance a 
waterfall, no doubt as man-made as the rest of the place, tinkled its 
offering of jewelled waters into the pool.  Palms and shrubbery 
surrounded all, save for a narrow opening at the very farthest point of the 
pond, where the rumble of the distant ocean, in all its natural glory, could 
be heard.  Occasionally a particularly large set of breakers from the ocean 
beyond would cause little wavelets to ripple across the diminutive bay.  
Rob had driven the girls through a gate with a Hispanic guard to get to the 
beach.  The guard had only admitted Rob after being shown a plastic I.D. 
card.  
         Several other couples lounged about the private waters.  Melanie 
wondered if any of the other women sunning themselves on the sand had 
their pussies threaded by velvet ropes.  Reluctantly Melanie and Candy 
shimmied out of their micro-skirts.  Thus denuded, Melanie gazed at the 
beach once more, still ensconced, for at least a few more seconds, in the 
relative privacy of the jeep.  She felt like a little rabbit gazing from the 
entrance to her burrow.
         "C'mon, girls!" Rob called.  He was behind the jeep now, unloading 
stuff off its back.  Candy kicked open the passenger door and stepped out.  
Melanie followed. 
         Heads bowed shyly, Melanie and Candy glided down the beach to the 
water's edge.  They unfurled their towels as Rob made to set up a beach 
umbrella.  Melanie turned her head to see a young brunette woman with a 
gorgeous figure sauntering toward her.  Her tanned, golden body was 
adorned with a jet black bikini.  She wore a slide triangle top, similar to 
Melanie's but with bigger cups to more fully conceal her bosoms.  A thong 
bottom, similar to the brazilian "U" bottom but without the back panel, 
rode her hips.  Upon her ears, when her mane of hair permitted it, the sun 
glinted off golden gothic Circle earrings.  "Hi, my name's Veronica.  I don't 
think I've seen you here before," the brunette said when she had closed 
with Melanie.  Her voice was whispery soft, like the breeze blowing 
through the long-leafed palms.
         "Uh, we're new here," Melanie replied.  Rob looked up from where he 
was impaling the sand with the umbrella.
         "Hi Robert," Veronica called, giving a light wave with her hand.
         "Hi!"  Robert replied with a savvy grin.  "How do you like my new 
friends?" 
         "Very nice," Veronica said, passing her eyes over Melanie and Candy.  
"A bit young, though, don't you think?"
         "No," Rob said.  "I don't."  And he went back to his task of 
establishing his umbrella on the beach.
         "Well, any friend of Robert is a friend of mine," Veronica said, and 
opened her arms to embrace Melanie.  "Welcome to the grotto!"  Melanie 
received Veronica's hug warmly.  As she was embraced, however, 
Veronica's right hand deftly darted down her back and slipped around to 
the front of her bikini.  Deftly Veronica's slim fingers took hold of the 
front panel of Melanie's bikini and tugged it upward.  The velvet rope set 
snugly betwixt Melanie's love lips rubbed across her clitoris.  Melanie 
gasped with pleasure.  
         The embrace done, Melanie and Veronica's bodies drew back a few 
inches from one another.  Melanie gulped, her eyes fixed on Veronica's.  The 
woman's gave no hint of what she had just done.  Melanie stepped back, and 
Candy innocently drew close to embrace Veronica in turn.  Veronica turned 
on Candy and gave her a similar hug, with the parting tug on her bikini 
bottom.  Candy too gasped.
         By now Rob had planted his umbrella firmly in the sand.  "How do you 
like the girl's little outfits?" Rob asked Veronica, stepping up behind the 
girls.
         "Cute," Veronica said.  "And no doubt useful.  Perhaps you'll dress me 
in one like that someday." 
         "I'm sure that could be arranged," Robert replied with a nervous 
cough.
         "We're about to have a picnic.  Would you like to join us?" Veronica 
asked Rob and the girls.  Melanie and Candy looked at each other, then back 
toward Rob as he replied,
         "Why not?"  Together they strolled across the hot sands, Melanie and 
Veronica walking very daintily to keep from tripping in their heels.  
Veronica wore flat, slightly elevated sandals, Rob wore zories.
         In the semi-shade of a beach umbrella several of Veronica's friends 
were laying out cold cuts and chilled, fruity wine coolers.  Melanie and 
Candy exchanged smiles and knelt on the blanket.  Two other women were 
present, along with two men.  One of the women wore a Bandeau top plus a 
swim skirt with nothing underneath.  The hemline of the skirt was ragged, 
as if it had gotten that way by years of wear in some tropical jungle.  No 
doubt, however, it was fresh from the bikini shop.  Along the sides the 
skirt was very short, while in front and back it flared downward to at 
least give some pretense of modesty.  She introduced herself as Diane.  
The other woman, introduced as Sherry, had dispensed with a top 
altogether.  Her firm breasts, evenly tanned, jutted forth in twin cones of 
firmness.  Below her waspish waist a skimpy side-tie thong was all that 
covered her there.  Over her head, however, she had tied a scarf.  It was a 
shocking juxtaposition, the conservative, autumn weather scarf matched 
with the stringiest of topless bikinis.  In such company Melanie felt 
obliged to pull off her T-shirt.  Candy must have felt it too, for in unison, 
without any prodding, they both pulled off their cotton tee tops.  
Underneath their little micro-bras, now on display, were a match for any 
garment in naughtiness.  Melanie felt the men's eyes drawn to her bosoms 
and blushed slightly.
         "Cocktail?" Diane asked with practised diffidence.
         "Yes, thankyou," Melanie whispered, accepting a glass.  Candy 
received one too.
         "To our new friends, Candy and Melanie," a man, named Brent, 
announced, playfully lifting his glass high.  The toast was acceded to and 
everyone supped.  A pleasant conversation, downed with ham sandwiches, 
followed.  The surrounding bathers, of which there were very few, 
clustered just far enough away from each other to ensure their privacy for 
whatever enjoyments might come to pass.  Voices drifted across the 
water, broken up by sudden hillocks topped with grass.  Occasionally a pair  
of naked bosoms bounced in the distance, soon to disappear behind the 
screen of an umbrella.  Whoever designed the place had made effective use 
of the limited space he had been given.  
         As the meal progressed Sherry took an interest in Melanie and 
Candy's bikini thong G-strings.  Accordingly, Rob made the girls sit flat on 
their bottoms and stretch out their legs, spreading them in wide vees.  
"How interesting," Sherry said admiringly.  Cocktail in hand, she knelt 
between the girls.  Delicately she took hold of the front panel of Candy's 
bikini bottom, along its side.  Gently she moved the panel up and down, 
causing Candy to moan.  Sherry then placed her glass on the beach blanket 
and took hold of Melanie's bikini bottom at the same time.  In unison she 
moved the girls' front panels up and down, causing the girls to sigh and 
blush.  Sherry's naked jugs wobbled as she aroused the girls.
         "May I try?" Diane asked, not actually waiting for permission.  She 
nudged Sherry aside and took her own turn at manipulating Melanie and 
Candy's thongs.  Diane's fingers brushed up and down in Melanie's pubic 
thatch as she worked the G-string.  Candy too suffered the touch of Diane's 
fingers within the curls of her pubic hair, just as she and Melanie had 
suffered a similar intimacy with Sherry and, earlier, Veronica.  Melanie 
licked her lips.  
         "Gosh, both of you look flushed," Sherry commented, peering over 
Diane's shoulder.  
         "Some sherbert might cool them down," Veronica said, sitting on the 
other end of the blanket.  Melanie licked her lips again.  She had always 
liked the taste of sherbert, especially lemon lime.
         Sherry fetched sherbert from a cooler.  Opening the package, she 
dipped in a scooper and brought forth a big ball of sherbert.  Just as 
Melanie was wondering where the bowl was from which she would eat the 
icy confection, Diane pulled open the top of her bikini thong.  Sherry 
plopped the sherbert right into the front of Melanie's bikini panties.
         "Oooh!" Melanie cried, eyes bulging.  Before she could protest Candy 
was accorded the same "treat."  
         "There," Sherry said, closing up the package of sherbert.  "That 
should keep you nice and cool for awhile."  She placed the package back in 
the cooler as unselfconsciously as if she had just served kindergarteners 
a favorite snack.  Diane smiled warmly at the girls, hands at her sides 
now, like a mother beaming proudly at her children. 
         "Let's have some cherry pie," Brent said, and unceremoniously 
stripped off his swim trunks.  A hardy 10" erection sprang forth.  Melanie 
felt her eyes widen in surprise.  The other man, named Mike, whipped off 
his swimsuit too, as did Robert.  All three males sported penises fit for a 
donkey.
         Veronica produced a cherry pie, warm from a portable oven.  
"Careful, the filling might be hot," Veronica warned, as Brent stabbed the 
center of the pie with his penis.  Up came his rod a moment later, coated 
with cherry goo and sprinkled with bits of crust.  Brent had given a slight 
grimace as his rod lewdly speared the pie, but apparently he had found the 
heat within manageable.  Each girl was required to partake in the obscene 
feast by bending over and extending her tongue and licking the cherry goo 
from Brent's prick.  Melanie succumbed with the greatest reluctance, her 
only consolation being that the penis in question was certainly worthy of 
any female's oral attentions.  Mischievously Melanie attempted to make 
Brent come as she licked him, but he seemed impervious.
         Naturally the other men, equally well endowed, were eager to get 
into the act.  Robert was invited to go next, and he drove into the pie 
eagerly, like a young boy attempting his first pussy.  Melanie and Candy, 
being Rob's newest friends, had first dibs on his dick.  Feeling silly and 
excited at the same time, Melanie shared Rob's cherry coated penis with 
Candy, licking it at the same time as she.  Rob dove into the pie again, and 
served himself up to Sherry and Diane and Veronica, all three vying for a 
lick.  Mike was next, and this time Melanie found herself licking him with 
Sherry.  One of the woman's warm, naked breasts brushed Melanie's arm 
repeatedly as they feasted.  
         When Melanie sat back to rest from her labor, Mike's dick shining 
cleanly as if coated with baby oil, she became conscious once more of the 
wetness between her thighs.  The rapid transition from the experience 
with the sherbert to the denuding of the men's loins had made her 
temporarily forget the plight of her pussy.  Melanie looked down as 
modestly as she could, and pulled open the front of her bikini thong.  Inside 
was a half melted clump of sherbert, dwindling rapidly to sticky, flavored 
water.  Melanie was still looking at it when Brent appeared beside her and 
bent over her waist.  He pulled the top of her bikini thong farther out and 
stuffed his mouth down inside it.  Melanie began to shake all over as Brent 
slurped up the sherbert.  His long tongue delved down between the lips of 
her pussy, giving her a very thorough washing.  With glazed, passionate 
eyes Melanie turned her head to see Candy being accorded a similar 
treatment by Rob.  Veronica, Diane, and Sherry looked on.  Uninhibited, 
Sherry had placed a long-nailed finger upon her own swimsuit and was 
massaging her clitty through the fabric.  Veronica must have seen Sherry 
masturbating, for the next moment she gently lifted up Diane's swim skirt 
and began to finger Diane's spot.  Diane sighed and smiled approvingly at  
Veronica.  She placed a palm on Veronica's shoulder and then rested her 
cheek upon it.  Then she extended her hand and touched the front of 
Veronica's thong bikini.
         Soft moans, as of doves giving birth, soon mixed with the hot, still 
summer air.  Melanie tossed her head back and shifted her hips forward, 
naughtily spreading her thighs to their maximum extent.  Candy did the 
same.  Sherry was looking down now, eyes on her still-covered clitty as 
she did her best to produce a wet spot upon the front of her panties.  At 
least she had the decency to keep her fingers out of her bikini.  Not so for 
Veronica and Diane, who now had their little swimsuits pulled down just 
enough to give them easy access inside.  The upper portion of each girl's 
pubic thatch was visible for anyone who sauntered by to see.  Veronica and 
Diane's pleasure had become fairly frantic.  It was as if they considered 
themselves at some sort of feminist lesbian revival.  Their moans became 
more guttural.
         "Enough!" Rob announced suddenly.  With bleary eyes Melanie looked 
over at him.  He had left Candy bereft and was sitting back on his heels, 
back erect.  Impulsively Candy put a hand to her swimsuit where Rob's 
mouth had been only moments before.  "No," Rob said, staying Candy's hand.  
"You will come at my command, not yours."  With a pout Candy pulled back 
her hand.  Melanie's fingers, stroking her tummy on their way to her own 
unfulfilled nest, went no farther.  Melanie looked down at Rob's penis, then 
Brent's.  She had never seen such rock hard erections.  There was a dollop 
of pre-cum on the tip of each.  How could they restrain themselves, 
Melanie wondered.  They must have wills of iron.
         Rob and Brent had to physically pull Veronica and Diane apart.  Both 
girls groped for each other as they were separated.  Diane's hand needed 
several hard slaps before it was convinced to retreat from her pussy.
         Candy put her hands between her knees and, kneeling, reared her 
bottom up into the air.  She wiggled it about.  There was a blank 
expression on her face.  Her tongue protruded from the corner of her 
mouth.  Rob kneed his way over to her and, himself kneeling, engaged her 
mouth with his own.  As they kissed his fingers lifted to her pendant 
breasts.  He slipped the little triangles of her bikini bra cups off the 
points of her nipples.  A moment later and he had her bare teats twixt the 
tips of his calloused fingers.  The bra, barely useful when worn properly, 
was now utterly without merit.  Melanie touched two fingers to the tidbit 
of material that covered her right nipple.  Like the left, it formed a little 
peak.  It was a tiny summit that even the most jaded of mountaineers 
would long to conquer.  Brent sidled up to Melanie.  His breath hot on her 
cheek, he joined his fingers to the bra cup next to hers.  
         "Nooo," Melanie said, but as she pulled back from Brent her bra cup 
stayed with his fingers, exposing her tit.  Brent's face dove and he drew 
the pointed summit of her mammary into his mouth.  Melanie swooned.
         This time it was Veronica and Diane and Sherry who broke up the 
tableaux.  "Enough, you two!" the women cried, addressing both pairs of 
lovers.          Laughingly they separated Rob from Candy, Brent from 
Melanie.  Sherry gave Rob several slaps on his bare bottom.
         "Come, we want to see these excellent pricks of yours," Veronica 
said to Rob and Brent.  Veronica clasped Rob's throbbing rod in her small 
hands and massaged it gently.  
         "Whoa, girl, don't make me spill in the sand," Rob warned.  
         "How about on the blanket?" Sherry asked with a giggle.  Her hands 
joined Veronica's.  Candy, still kneeling, reared up her bottom once more 
and this time grasped the sides of her swimsuit.  She gave her bikini 
panties several tugs.  The last caused a moan to escape her throat.  
Melanie, remembering by Candy's example the felt thong in her panties, 
grasped them in front.  She pulled upward on her own panties, and gave a 
little moan herself.  Her breasts jiggled as she did so.  
         Rob seemed not to notice Candy and Melanie's little game of self-
pleasure.  Neither did Brent, his own cock now in the able, if shy, hands of 
Diane.  In fact both men were turned away from Candy and Melanie.  The 
two teens admired the men's backs as they gave their panties repeated 
tugs.
         Suddenly Candy fell onto her side and screamed.  She was orgasming!  
Forgetting Rob's injunction in her bliss, she shoved her little hands inside 
the front of her panties and began rubbing furiously.  A moment later 
Melanie collapsed beside her and her own hands dove into her panties.  Rob 
turned in alarm and shouted his dismay as he saw both girls shudder with 
repeated orgasms as each played with herself.  As the orgasms reached a 
crescendo the two girls turned their faces toward one another and 
extended their tongues.  The tongue of each girl licked the tongue of the 
other in the open air.  Out of the corner of her eye Melanie saw a 30-
something couple walk by.  Both the man and the woman looked at her and 
Candy and smiled as they passed.  Melanie, recovering herself, rolled her 
eyes upward to follow the retreat of the man and woman.  The couple 
continued on, utterly nonchalant.  It was as if they had greeted strangers 
in a city park, pleasant and brief.  Melanie wondered how many other 
orgasming young girls the couple had seen in their lifetime.  Apparently 
she and Candy were far from being the first.
         Candy, still lying beside Melanie, became more aggressive as her 
orgasms subsided.  It was as if she did not want the moment to pass.  She 
rolled into Melanie and pressed against her warm flesh.  She drew her 
hands from her own panties and forced them into Melanie's.  Rubbing 
Melanie's clitty vigorously, she buried her tongue in Melanie's mouth.  
Melanie did not know what to do.  She had never "made it" with a girl 
before!  In a misguided effort to fend Candy off, she stuck her own hands 
in Melanie's panties.  At first she pushed against the fleshy juncture of 
Candy's thighs.  Soon, as her passion grew, her hands of their own accord 
began to move in quick, rhythmic circles of the tiniest circumference, 
giving pleasure.  Candy groaned and seemed to quicken her own efforts 
upon Melanie.  Soon Melanie was bucking and writhing, her every tendon 
spasming with joy.  Candy too began shaking.  Her little torso quaked, her 
long legs shook, her face twisted about.  By this time Rob and the others 
were utterly mesmerized by the girls.  Such youthful passion!  The twin 
lovers' childish cheeks were pink with their exertions, their moans 
seemed to waft from the mouths of babes.  Suddenly Rob felt his semen 
welling up uncontrollably.  "No!" Rob cried, but it was too late.  His semen 
spilled vigorously into Veronica's lap.  The mere sight of Candy and 
Melanie's sapphic affection had done him in.  Rob turned to look at 
Veronica.  His face was sheepish.  He felt like a little boy as Veronica 
tutted and wiped his penis clean with a picnic napkin.  Then she took 
another napkin and soaked it in the pool of semen in her lap, absorbing the 
puddle of manly fluid as best she could.
         "You could have at least put it inside of one of us if you were going 
to come," Sherry said disapprovingly to Rob.  
         "Yeah, I know," Rob replied.  He looked over at Brent.  The man 
grimaced back at him.  He was in agony, but he had managed to hold his 
load.  Diane delicately touched a fingertip to the crown of his penis.  Her 
attention had left the girls and was back upon the penis of her paramour.
         "Raise up your bottom.  You must be spanked for your naughtiness," 
Sherry said to Rob.  
         "Get off it.  I'll be hard again in a minute," Rob said.  
         "Still, you must be punished," Sherry said.
         "Yes, up!  Up with that bottom!" Veronica called happily.  Rob's 
testicles, free of semen for the moment, descended.  Sherry reached 
between Rob's thighs and grabbed them.  She pulled his nuts upward.  The 
way Rob was sitting, however, flat on his bottom with his legs spread in a 
vee before him, there was no way Sherry could pull him up.  At most she 
would cause him to arch his back, stabbing his penis up into the sky.  Of 
course, Rob's dick was rapidly becoming flaccid, so the sky did not have 
much to fear.  Sherry's grip on Rob's hairy jewels, however, was 
apparently just tight enough to convince him to obey her.  He drew his legs 
back and got on his knees.  Sherry let go of his balls momentarily and then 
repossessed them, this time coming at them from behind.  Now she could 
tug on them in a manner that would lift up his heinie.  And she did.  A 
moment later Rob's white posterior was mooning the beach.  He remained 
on his knees, his buttocks arching high.  His face was close to Veronica's 
lap now, and he could smell the remaining residue of his semen on her 
panties.  
         SLAP!  SLAP!  SLAP!  Sherry certainly knew how to dish it out!  Each 
strike of her hand left a bright pink print on Rob's bottom.  Candy and 
Melanie, recovering from their bout of mutual pleasure, spied a rare 
opportunity to play sadist.  They leapt up and, utterly forgetting their 
ignominious masturbating of just moments before, took to helping Sherry 
with juvenile relish.
         SLAP!  SPLAP!  WHACK!  Rob felt as if he had been caught by the 
Furies.  At the same time, however, he could feel his dick growing rock 
hard with masochistic delight.  His balls tautened, his breath grew short 
and desirous.  He leaned forward slightly and began licking Veronica's bare 
tummy.  The woman gave a little sigh of approval and wriggled her frame.  
A moment later she deftly lowered her bikini panties partway down her 
thighs and directed Rob's mouth to her pussy.
         This was too much for Brent and Diane.  With a manly grip Brent took 
Diane by her little shoulders and lay her back on the beach towel.  As she 
gazed up at him, wondering at his massive chest, he reached down and 
untied her swim skirt.  Then he nosed his penis into her pussy and gently 
began to fuck her.
Chapter Twelve

         Rob became hard once more under the girls' inspired spanking, but 
held back from delivering his hot poker into a vagina.  Instead he had 
Melanie and Candy re-fit their bras over their bulging bosoms.  This in 
itself would have made almost any man lose his self-control.  What a 
sight each girl was as she struggled to fit her own breasts within the 
triangles of tiny fabric!  But Rob just sat back, curled an arm around 
Veronica's waist, and gently circled her clitoris with his finger.  Veronica 
shuddered, but made no move to urge Rob within her.  Melanie, hands behind 
her back as she wriggled her bosoms into her bra cups, at the same time 
tying the bra at the rear, looked up.  Her big eyes peered out from beneath 
the fringe of her lemon locks.  Melanie gave a firm tug and felt her bra 
tighten.  At the same moment, involuntarily, she ran her tongue over her 
upper lip.  That big penis, sooo close!  
         "I want it!" Melanie cried, and dove for Rob's rod.  Candy must have 
been thinking the same thing, for she too lunged at the pulsing pecker.  
(This despite the fact that she had not finished tying her bra, as Melanie 
had.)  Rob just laughed and scooted his hips back.  He put a palm to the top 
of Melanie's diving head.  Veronica, squealing, helped Rod fight off the 
teens' attack.  
         Melanie and Kimberly, defeated, erected their backs and sat their 
bottoms on their heels.  Both girls brushed back their tousled hair.  "We 
shall go boating in a bit, girls," Rob said, as if announcing an impending 
ride at Disneyland.  "Let's get out of the sun and enjoy some refreshments 
in the meantime."
         Brent's jeep was parked nearby.  The girls packed the lighter things 
back into the jeep, while the two men handled the heavier items.  Then Rob 
and his twin teenage companions broke down their own more modest 
campsite.  After this both groups loaded into their respective vehicles and 
headed off.
         About a mile from the artificial lagoon was a small harbor, still 
within the grounds of the private seaside estate.  A small but elegantly 
appointed clubhouse offered men's and women's restrooms.  Unlike any 
public facilities Melanie had ever seen before (or Candy, for that matter), 
these changing areas were adorned with marble slabs, rather than 
benches, and had private, immaculate shower stalls inlaid with exquisite 
tiles.  Melanie took a shower amidst a scene of seahorses and starfish.  
The tiles in Candy's shower stall portrayed a surreal figure of Neptune, 
sans clothing.  Veronica bathed amidst mermaids, while Sherry and Diane, 
unable to find separate accommodations for the both of them, shared a 
shower.  Sirens wriggled temptingly upon rocks as Sherry and Diane 
soaped each other down.
         After their showers the girls rinsed their bikinis, rubbing them a bit 
with bars of soap to get them totally clean.  A drier was found, and the 
girls sat and chatted on throw cushions atop the marble slabs while 
waiting for their things.  Modestly, they sat with bath towels wrapped 
about their torsos.  As they talked they passed about a hand-held mirror 
and did their makeup.  Each girl helped the other with this most essential 
of feminine tasks.  (Though, in truth, had the girls gone utterly without 
paint and powder on their faces they could still have made dead men cum.) 
When the bikinis were dry the girls were about to put them on, when 
Veronica said,
         "It's no fun wearing our same old clothes."  The other girls agreed.  
"Let's get the boys to buy us more!"  All the girls sashayed over to the 
opening to the women's changing room.  
         "It's about time!" Rob croaked as three of the girls peered about the 
edge of the tiled, open doorway.  Coyly discreet, the girls did not want the 
men to get a good look at their bodies, though wrapped in towels.  Only 
their heads and shoulders peeped beyond the wall which formed the 
doorframe.  That and an occasional jiggling pair of half-covered 
mammaries.
         "Robbb," the girls whined.  We want some money to buy new clothes.  
The girls pouted at both Rob and Brent.  
         "Good God!  We're only going toÑ" Rob began, but cut himself short.
         "I've got some bucks," Brent said.  He fished his wallet out of his 
shorts and produced a wad of bills.
         "All right, all right," Rob said, reaching for his own wallet.  "It's not 
like I can't afford it, after all."
         "Indeed," Melanie smirked, sharing a private smile with Candy.
         "Thankyou Rob...and Brent!" Veronica smiled, taking the money for all 
five of the girls.  They retreated back into the women's locker room.  
There Melanie and Candy slipped back into their wicked bikinis and tees 
and microminis for the last time.  Somewhat selfconsciously, they 
emerged from the locker room, Veronica, Sherry, and Diane in tow, each 
dressed almost as proactively.  Outside the building and down a narrow 
wooden sidewalk there was a "Strings and Things" bikini and beach 
clothing shop.  Much to the girls' chagrin, a group of senior citizens had 
just disembarked from a boat and made for the "Strings and Things" shop 
too.  The girls got not a few winks from the old geezers, and looks of 
disapproval from their ancient wives.
         Melanie picked out a crop top for herself, Candy a midriff top.  Both 
girls selected denim zip-front shorts.  Melanie's had pockets only in front, 
Candy's had pockets only on her seat.  For Veronica it was a more demure 
tie-back halter top that stretched all the way from its sweetheart 
neckline to her navel.  Below this she wore white shorts that extended 
nearly to her knees.  Sherry selected a top that looked a lot like a small 
jacket.  It bared her belly, while featuring a lace-edged collar.  Daringly, 
the top had open shoulders.  Its sleeves were long but ended a few inches 
from her wrists.  Beneath she wore a skirt that dropped halfway down her 
thighs.  The skirt was adorned with a belt of white leather.  The entire 
outfit was the color of pearls, and made a striking contrast to the tanned 
skin of her shoulders, belly, and legs.
         Stretch lace leggings matched with an oversized top was what Diane 
selected, making her look both formal and trampily seductive at the same 
time.  Diane even complimented her outfit with spiked heels, as opposed to 
the sneakers that the other girls chose to buy.  Obviously Diane expected 
to finish out her seaborne voyage with a few cocktails, perhaps even some 
dancing.  The other girls had been thinking in sportier terms.
         Dressed at last in their new clothes, the girls accompanied the men 
to Brent's sailboat.  Brent and Rob insisted that the girls ready the boat 
for the voyage, making even Diane join the labor.  It was a fairly hard job, 
putting up the boat's sail, tying off its ropes, but there were five of them, 
and the men did lend a hand now and then.  The girls knew the main reason 
the men had put them to the task was to admire their bodies at work.
         Finally the boat set sail.  The men took over now, driving the boat 
where they would across the waves.  The girls took a much needed break.  
They sat back or stretched out, sipping sodas and beer.  Once at sea the 
men joined the girls in relaxing, taking turns at the rudder.  Rob began to 
tell Melanie, Candy, and Veronica of a mysterious island that served as a 
judicious hideaway for those who pursued more decadent thrills.  Sherry 
and even Diane had been to the island before, and they joined in explaining 
its various features:
         "A wealthy industrialist bought the place, and built a castle on it.  
He has a thing for moats and drawbridges and turrets and dungeons and 
such," Diane explained diffidently.   "I was very scared the first time I 
went there, but I survived."  Diane smiled, a look of triumph on her face.  
Her hands fingered the lace flounce along the hem of her dress-length 
pullover.  Below her knees, small and brown, knocked together once.
         "Would you like to visit?" Sherry asked the girls.  Melanie looked at 
Candy, then both looked at Veronica.  
         "I suppose we could," Veronica began.
         "But if we don't like the looks of it we'll insist you turn the boat 
around!" Melanie said.  Sherry suppressed a mature giggle.
         "Well, the industrialist has seen to that," Diane said.  "Everyone on 
his or her first visit must jump from the boat and swim ashore.  Of 
course, you're on a boat belonging to someone who's been there before."
         "Which means that we don't have to jump in the water?" Candy said 
hopefully.
         "Which means that you do have to jump in the water, but will be 
allowed ashore when you swim up onto the beach," Sherry said.  
         "Well, that's out," Melanie said.  "We left our bikinis back at the 
clubhouse."
         "Oh, that's O.K.," Diane blurted.  "You have to swim ashore naked 
anyway."
         "N-Naked?!" Melanie, Candy, and Veronica all asked at once.  Rob 
grinned.
         "We call ahead on our radio, see?  The guy knows us, so he lets us 
approach the island and dock.  When we get within swimming distance you 
girls strip off your clothes and jump in the water and swim ashore.  
Meanwhile, me and Brent and Sherry and Diane sail the boat around to the 
far side of the island and park it at the dock.  Unfortunately, or perhaps 
the wealthy guy planned it that way, the only beach is on one side of the 
island, the only dock on the other.  But you'll be watched from the castle's 
tower as you swim ashore and there's a speedboat down by the beach in 
case you get in trouble.  Like, if you started drowning?  There's someone in 
the tower watching you with binoculars and he would radio a person on the 
beach to speed out and pick you up."
         "It's not drowning I'm worried about," Melanie said.  "It's being naked 
in front of people I've never met, living in a place with dungeons!"
         "Like I said, it was built for the adventurous," Sherry said.  "Me, I'll 
try anything once.  Now I'm going back as a full member in good standing, 
of course.  It's only scary the first time.  But that's part of the fun."
         "You wanna do it?" Rob asked.  He reached out and fingered the hem 
of Melanie's crop top, as if to encourage her to undress.
         "There's the island now!"  Diane called out, pointing.  Melanie and 
Candy and Veronica, their backs to it, pivoted their torsos about to have a 
look.  Over the roll of a wave the island appeared.  It stuck up from the 
ocean like Gibraltar, but much smaller.  Amidst the thick foliage dotting 
its surface a rock hewn castle rose.  Melanie felt a shiver course through 
her, and sensed a similar feeling ran down the spines of Candy and 
Veronica.
         "I don't know," Candy said softly.
         "Wait 'till we get a little closer.  Then you can decide," Rob said.  
Brent was already on the radio.  It was hand-held, and he talked into it as 
he continued to steer their craft.
         The girls debated amongst themselves for awhile, as all the time the 
island grew closer.  Sherry and Diane urged their acceptance.  Two factors 
played a part in their ultimate agreement:  that there were three of them 
who would swim ashore, and that even frail Diane had undergone the 
bizarre entree.
         Having decided to partake, the girls simply congratulated 
themselves on their courage in making such a decision and then continued 
to sit about.  Finally Rob came over and said gently, "Girls, if you're going 
to have a swim, at some point you need to jump in the water."  This caused 
a new flurry amongst the girls, much of it still laced with indecision.  
Finally Rob nudged Veronica and said quietly to her, "Set an example, 
would you?"  
         Very hesitantly, Veronica slowly stood up on the rocking boat and 
put a hand to the front of her tie-back halter top.  First she fingered the 
sweetheart neckline, then ran her fingers along the halter's stretch lace 
bottom.  This was all rather useless, as the top had to be undone in back if 
it were to come off.  Rob, slightly exasperated, walked directly up to 
Veronica and seized her top in front along its sweetheart neckline.  With 
one mighty tear he ripped the garment right down the front.  Melanie and 
Candy needed no further encouragement.
         Well aware that they were being watched by an island observer, 
Melanie and Candy unzipped their denim shorts and wriggled the tight 
fabric down their thighs.  Beneath they wore satiny panties, Melanie's of 
white and Candy's of pastel pink.  In back the panties were thongs, leaving 
the moons of their bottoms fully exposed to whomever might be up in the 
castle's tower.  Veronica, meanwhile, screeched as Rob ripped off her 
knee-length shorts as unceremoniously as he had removed her top.
         "I know!  We can swim in our panties!" Melanie said brightly to Candy.
         "Girls, either take them off or I'll rip them off," Rob interjected 
from where he stood with the recalcitrant Veronica.  Melanie gulped and, 
with unsure fingers, slithered down her panties.  Candy did the same.  
Finally both girls wiggled out of their tight little tops, pulling them up 
over their heads.
         "Sneakers too," Rob admonished.  Candy and Melanie both sat their 
bare bottoms down on the wooden bench running along the side of the 
craft.  The bench felt cool, and had a thin layer of salt on it that the girls 
hadn't noticed until now.  Obviously, when one's bare bottom is perched on 
a seat one pays more attention to its condition.  Both girls bent over and, 
breasts wriggling, untied their sneakers.  Kicking off the shoes, they 
looked up at Rob, who had strode over to stand before them.  Veronica took 
a seat beside the girls.  Rob's chest bulged out beneath his T-shirt, and his 
pants sported a bulge as well.  Rob put his hands on his hips.  The girls 
regarded him meekly.  Little did they realize that they would not see him 
again.  Sherry sat nearby, delicately sipping a martini.  Diane had 
retreated to the back of the boat, where Brent, now bare-chested, was 
steering.  Diane was sitting close beside Brent, giving him a back rub as he 
guided the craft with the rudder.
         "Do me one last favor," Rob said.  He unzipped the front of his shorts.  
With newly alert eyes the girls watched as he parted his underpants to 
release his big prong.  The girls needed no encouragement.  Anything to 
keep them on the boat was welcome to them.  All three attacked Rob's 
penis with relish.  
         Rob did not last long under the feminie assault.  The girls cooed and 
petted and sucked his manhood until, suddenly, he spurted a white stream 
over them.  Most of it hit Melanie.  The girls, after squealing over the 
tribute, took on a look of disappointment.
         "Rob, why didn't you tell us you were going to come?" Melanie pouted.  
Rob reached out and patted the sticky semen that lay in the locks of her 
hair.
         "I probably just need another spanking to get hard again," Rob joked.  
But the girls took him seriously.
         "Yes!  Another spanking!" Candy squealed happily.
         "No girls," Rob said, backing off.  With some effort he kept back the 
girls, who bounded up from their benches and made for him like Amazons.  
After a brief tussle Rob was once again in control, the girls panting, a 
light film of sweat now coating their bodies.  Rob's shorts were at his 
knees, but he had managed to fend the females off.
         "I want one more drink before I jump," Candy announced.  She walked 
over to a little fridge and opened it.  Several prepared drinks were already 
there.  Candy took one out which was adorned with a tiny plastic parasol.  
From a miniature straw she stood sipping the drink.  The other girls each 
padded over and took drinks for themselves.  Rob protested, saying the 
girls might get drunk.
         "From the looks of that place, I want to be drunk," Melanie said, 
glancing at the castle-topped island.  
         "Well, I don't want you swimming drunk," Rob said, and urged the 
girls' drinks one by one from their hands.
         "Come on, girls, into the water!" Sherry said, standing up abruptly.  
She seemed to have grown weary of the girls' little hesitations.  Rob took 
Veronica's hand and held it as Veronica stepped up onto the bench 
whereupon she had earlier sat.  Melanie and Candy were each helped up in 
turn.
         "Um, shouldn't we have life preservers or something?" Candy asked, 
gazing at the deep blue swells of the ocean.  
         "In!"  Sherry cried.  Drink in one hand, she threw the other against 
Candy's bottom and toppled the girl into the waves.
         "Ack!  I can't swim!" Veronica cried as Rob pushed her in, but swam 
quite nicely as soon as her head resurfaced above the water.  Melanie, 
seeing her time was up aboard the boat, dove in head first before anyone 
could push her.
         "Come back!" Candy cried to the sailboat.  Immediately it began 
pulling away from the girls.  With each passing second it receded, cutting 
across the sea, leaving the girls to fend for themselves.  
         Melanie turned about, and saw a speedboat heading toward them from 
the island.  At once all three girls turned and, bottoms wiggling, legs 
kicking, they made for the speedboat.  When the boat drew near, however, 
it turned out to be manned not by some hunky male lifeguard, but a young 
woman.  
         "Can we have a lift?" Melanie asked in a tentative voice of the 
female boatswain.  
         "Come on!  I've done it a hundred times!" the female called back.  Like 
the girls, she was topless.  Because of the arching sides of the boat the 
girls couldn't see her lower half.  Her large breasts jiggled with her every 
move.  Atop her head she wore a captain's cap.  "Enjoy yourselves!" the 
boatswain called.  "It's a lovely day for swimming!"
         The girls seemed somewhat relieved by the presence and demeanor 
of the boatswain.  The girl was nice, yet firm.  She puttered about them as 
they swam but seemed well trained in the difference between a real 
drowning and one that was simply being faked for the benefit of a free 
ride.  "I didn't need to come out," the girl said.  "So don't hassle me about 
it.  I just came because you looked like sweet girls and I wanted you to 
feel as comfortable as possible.  But I'm not picking you up, so don't ask.  
Unless you're really drowning, of course."
         With this the girls gave up on trying to hitch a ride and began to 
actually enjoy their swim.  The sea was warm, the swells mild.  In the 
distance a beach beckoned, the ocean gently lapping at its sandy shore.  
Across the sunlit waves the girls swam now, with slow, easy strokes.  
Their arms did the breaststroke, while their feet seemed to like a 
freestyle kick best.  Their heads bobbed along above the water.  Their 
bottoms, temptingly, were washed continually by the rippling sea as they 
bobbed along half-in, half-out of the water.
         On the far side of the island the sailboat pulled up to a small wooden 
pier.  Sherry's jacket-like top was open now.  Her bare breasts shook as 
she cast a rope to a man standing on the pier.  "Hiya Martin!" Sherry called.
         "You never stop having fun, do you?" Martin replied, catching the 
rope.  He gave a meaningful look at Sherry's breasts.  They glistened with 
saliva.
         "Not if I can help it!"  Sherry replied. 
         A few minutes later Sherry, Diane, Brent and Rob disembarked.  Rob 
was carrying a satchel.  "Lady Burgess told me to tell you to take the 
Jasmine Room," Martin said to the foursome.  "There's a nice big bed in 
there.  I'm sure you'll all fit on it quite nicely."  To Rob he said, "You need 
to see Mr. Savin first, of course."
         "Of course," Rob said.
         "Do you have the money?" Martin asked.
         "Always," Rob replied.  He hefted the satchel.  "You think I'd bring my 
work with me?"
         Rob's feet made resounding echoes in the stone hall as he approached 
the office in the castle marked with the sign, Mr. Savin.  Lady Burgess 
accompanied him.  She knocked on Mr. Savin's door for him, and, when 
permission was heard from inside, opened it.  A tall man stood stooped at 
a winnock, his behind presented to his new guests, his head peering out 
the window.  Tied over his desk was a young woman with a luxurious 
blonde mane.  Unlike her host, who was clothed in business attire, she was 
totally naked.  She turned her face toward him and Rob saw that it was 
streaked with tears.  The young woman's bottom was very red.
         "Ah yes," the man at the window said.  He stood erect and turned to 
face his new guests.  In his hands was a pair of binoculars.  "Not as good a 
view from here as the tower, but Mortimer is taping the view from the 
tower, in high definition no less."
         "That should make interesting viewing, if you like watching a couple 
of teenage girls swim," Lady Burgess said in an unfriendly tone.
         "I should put you over my desk here," Mr. Savin said.  "But I wouldn't 
take any pleasure in seeing your bottom walloped."
         "But I certainly take pleasure in seeing Gwendolyn's bottom 
smacked," Lady Burgess said.  "You seem to have done quite a good job on 
her."
         "Yes, but we're only just getting underway," Mr. Savin replied.  "Stay 
and masturbate yourself if you like, Lady Burgess."  
         "I have other matters to attend to," Lady Burgess said stiffly.  She 
turned and walked from the room.  She closed the door behind her and her 
footsteps could be heard as she retreated down the stone hallway.
         "Kimberly," Mr. Savin muttered.
         "What's that, sir?" Rob asked.
         "She's thinks she's got Kimberly locked away for her private 
pleasure.  A girl I had delivered last night.  Vivacious girl, actually loved 
the swim to the island.  I liked her so much I put her up for the night and 
didn't let anyone breathe a word to her.  Lady Burgess had David change the 
lock on Kimberly's room in the middle of the night, thinking to keep the 
girl all to herself, thinking I had no interest in her.  But David, good man 
that he is, carried Kimberly to a new room and then changed the lock in the 
old room.  Kimberly didn't even care that she had been carried to a new 
room in her sleep.  Such a wonderful girl!  I've let her run around naked all 
morning in the rec room.  Absolutely loves the video games I've got down 
there.  Lady Burgess, of course, has been haughty all day, thinking she's got 
a pet of her very own locked away.  She had to go in to the mainland early 
this morning, just got back before you pulled in.  I imagine Lady Burgess 
will be storming back in here in a moment.  But Kimberly, she's joined our 
new heroines out in the ocean."  Mr. Savin indicated the window.  Rob bent 
slightly, peered out.  
         "Oh yes, four girls swimming out there now," Rob commented.  
         "How much did they cost me, by the way?" Mr. Savin asked Rob.
         "Around 60,000, including expenses, and our fee, of course." Rob said.  
He lay his satchel on Mr. Savin's desk, inches from Gwen's face.  "Of 
course, I've got the three million here, from our latest drug deals.  The 
enhanced crack is selling quite well."  Rob opened the satchel and dumped 
the money unceremoniously on the desk.  The stacks of bills tumbled about 
Gwen's head.  
         "Mmm," Mr. Savin said, bending forward to give the heaps of bills a 
cursory inspection.  "Horrible stuff, that crack.  Don't know why anyone 
would take it.  But it does sell..."  Then his eyes met Gwen's.  She was 
looking up at him plaintively, her nose inhaling the scent of money with 
every intake of her breath.  
         Mr. Savin laughed.  "Do you still like the smell of money, Gwen?"  Mr. 
Savin asked.  "Perhaps it's not so sweet now, is it?"  A new tear trickled 
down Gwen's face.  
         "Lovely girl," Rob commented.  "Who is she?"  
         "A young madam," Mr. Savin said.  "I made her acquaintance and 
purchased her services.  Little Melanie out there."
         "One of the girls swimming to shore?" Rob asked.
         "Yes, one of the girls out there, right now," Mr. Savin said.  "Melanie, 
the blonde.  Such a beautiful girl.  I couldn't bear to have her only once.  
And Gwen here, she fancies herself a sadist, but really she's a pretty 
little masochist.  Aren't you, Gwen?" Mr. Savin asked.  Gwen bit her lower 
lip but said nothing.  "We're going for some bruising today, something for 
Gwen to show to her friends," Mr. Savin said.  "And now, if you'll excuse us, 
Rob.  I mustn't keep Gwen's bottom waiting any longer."
         "Of course, sir," Rob said.  Politely he turned away and let himself 
out of Mr. Savin's office.  As he closed the door behind him he heard a 
swift crack of leather, followed by a scream.
         "This is a swell place!" Kimberly said, swimming next to her 
stepsister amidst the waves.
         "Well, you shouldn't be here," Melanie admonished.  "Even though I am 
glad to see you."
         "Oh, do you think I'm not old enough?" Kimberly asked, insulted.
         "I know you're not old enough," Melanie retorted.
         "Oh, don't worry about her," Veronica said to Melanie.  "I for one am 
very glad she was brought out here to meet us and swim in with us."  A 
second speedboat now trolled the water near the girls, manned by a female 
boatswain.  Kimberly had jumped from the second speedboat to join her 
sister, naked as the day she was born.  "If all this place has is a cellar full 
of video games, we've nothing to worry about," Veronica continued.  "This 
place could even be fun!"
         "Well, the swim was fun!" Melanie said.  "Despite the fact that I'm 
totally naked in front of people in some castle I've never had the pleasure 
of meeting."  She felt her toes touch bottom.  They were at the beach now, 
only yards from the shore.  One by one the girls found the sandy bottom 
with their feet.  Together they emerged from the sea, like modern day 
Venuses.  Soon all four were standing on the beach.  Both speedboats 
grounded themselves on the sand nearby.  The boatswains jumped out and 
lashed their small craft to rocks that apparently had been placed there for 
just such a purpose.  The rocks were carved in the shape of penises, whose 
flanged heads would keep any rope in place.
         "What happens now?"  Melanie asked.
         "Come!  I'll show you around the place!" Kimberly offered, but just as 
the words left her mouth a woman dressed in a black gown emerged from a 
jungle path.  The woman's skin was white.  A smile creased her features.  
"Tsk!  Tsk!  You girls look temptingly immodest," the woman said.  A man, 
walking beside her, carried four brown garments, neatly folded.
         "David!" Melanie cried.  The man smiled but said nothing.
         "Yes, David is here!" Kimberly gushed.
         "Is-is Gwen here?" Melanie asked.
         "I haven't seen her," Kimberly said.  
         David handed the chestnut garments one by one to the woman in 
black, who, walking behind each girl, helped her into one of them.  When all 
four girls had been attired they looked at each other.  Each was cloaked in 
a hooded monk's robe.  Curiously, however, the robes only extended to 
about the small of each girl's back.  A third of the way down their 
bottoms, actually.  Everything beneath was naked.  The girls were of 
different heights, yet each wore a robe that extended to the same place on 
her bottom.  Obviously, their measurements were known to someone on the 
island.  Melanie remembered Renoir measuring she and Candy.
         Despite being clothed, or semi-clothed, the girls were still wet 
from the sea.  Pearls of seawater gleamed upon their bottoms.  For the 
first time Melanie noticed that a riding crop was stuck through the sash of 
the dress of the woman in black.
         "I am your Governess," the white woman said.  "Do you know what you 
will be doing here?" 
         "Well, I'm sure we must obey ourselves," Melanie replied meekly, 
glancing at the Governess' riding crop out of the corner of her eye.  The 
Governess laughed.
         "Indeed, and I shall ensure that you will," the Governess said.  "But 
you look like perfect little angels to me, are you not?"
         "Yes indeed, ma'am," Kimberly said, nodding her head vigorously.  
Obviously the presence of the riding crop had not been lost even on 
Kimberly, muting her normally rambunctious nature.
         "Will we be doing some riding?" Veronica asked.  The Governess 
smiled, and just then two more men came through the bush, leading four 
white stallions.  The girls gasped.  None of the stallions wore any 
harnessing equipment.  But a square of soft blue velvet was draped over 
each horses' back.  The men helped each of the girls onto the horses by 
bending down and cupping their strong hands as a sort of step.  A good push 
on the girl's bottom helped in the mounting too.  Kimberly, who due to her 
age was shorter, had trouble clamboring up on a stallion.  A swift crack 
from the Governess' riding crop on her heinie seemed to provide the 
necessary impetus, however.
         "Oww!" Kimberly protested, hands flying to her bottom as soon as 
she had got atop the horse.  "That wasn't nice!"
         "But it was quite effective, wasn't it?" the Governess replied.
         "If I need help like that I'll ask for it!" Kimberly squawked.
         "You needn't, I already know," the Governess replied.  "I can tell just 
by looking at you that you are just like I was as a teen.  Impulsive, 
demanding, but not always knowing what's best.  We'll make good friends, 
you and I."  This seemed to placate Kimberly, who's eyes seemed to shine 
with a newfound respect for the woman.  Kimberly's naked breasts 
quivered as she continued rubbing her bottom, but she said no more.     
         When Melanie's crotch came to rest upon the velvet, a shiver ran 
through her.  There was no place to put her feet.  The hung down on either 
side of the horse, leaving gravity to cause her little clitty to press most 
firmly upon the soft cloth.  Melanie's horse took a step forward.  The 
resultant jostling caused Melanie to emit a sweet, involuntary little sigh.
         "What's his name?" Candy asked a man of her horse.  She bent 
forward and stroked the horses' silken mane.  
         "Beefcake," the man replied.  Candy smiled.  
         "What's mine called?"  Kimberly asked.  Both her hands were still at 
her bottom, rubbing absently, assuaging a pain that was by now mostly 
just in her mind. 
         "Defiant," the Governess replied.  "I think that might be the perfect 
name for your horse, hmmm?"  Kimberly pouted.
         "Did our friends arrive at the island?," Melanie asked the governess.
         "Yes, they're up at the castle already," the Governess said, and began 
walking forward.  With that David and the two men began leading the 
horses off the beach with their new riders.  
         Candy smiled over at Melanie.  She too was now feeling the effects 
of the sumptuous velvet between her thighs.  Melanie bit her lip, 
suppressed another moan.  
         "Mmmm, this feels...strange..." Kimberly observed, and Candy had to 
let out a laugh.  Veronica flushed slightly, her motherly breasts bouncing 
like ripe papayas.  Kimberly's breasts, not fully grown yet, jiggled tautly.  
They resembled over-sized tennis balls.  Melanie looked down at her own 
nicely-sized breasts.  Her nipples were hard, jutting points of unrequited 
passion.
         A stony path appeared between the brush along the beach.  The 
horses followed the path, led by their trainers.  The girls' bare bottoms 
joggled atop their steeds, the white cheeks of flesh presenting a tempting 
target for the Governess' crop.  The Governess tapped her crop lightly upon 
Candy's bottom.  Candy looked down into the woman's face.
         "I'd love it if you'd misbehave," the Governess purred to Candy.  The 
flame-haired girl smiled sweetly and sat more erectly, jutting out her 
chest, her bottom contracting into a tight little ball.
         "You must give me some rules," Candy replied.  Melanie looked over at 
the flame-haired girl.  This was the girl who'd fallen into a lesbian tryst 
with Gwen, Melanie recalled.  Perhaps she wanted more, this time from 
the Governess.  Or perhaps she just enjoyed flirting with danger, or 
thought not flinching from the woman made her look cool.
         "I don't want any rules," Kimberly called out, her horse the last in 
line.  The Governess, striding alongside Candy, turned her head and looked 
back.
         "That's when you need them most," the Governess called back with a 
smile.  Kimberly shifted on her horse.  Melanie looked back.  
         "I don't want any rules," Kimberly whined in a muted voice to her 
stepsister.
         Ahead loomed the castle.  It looked ancient and foreboding, though 
Melanie knew it must be of a fairly modern origin.  She'd never heard of 
any medieval knights who'd taken up residence in the Carribean islands of 
the New World.
         "Is this Camelot?" Kimberly called out from the back of the line.
         "Yes, dear," the Governess replied, to Melanie's surprise.  Then she 
added:  "For you it is."
         "I wish I knew Camelot had such great pinball machines in it," 
Kimberly replied.  "I would have studied it more in school."  Melanie could 
only see the back of Candy's head, but she thought she detected Candy 
silently rolling her eyes.  Candy turned and said something quietly to the 
Governess, no doubt commenting on Kimberly's last remark.  But the 
Governess just smiled and lightly touched a finger to Candy's knee.
         Veronica looked over at Melanie.  She gave a smile, as if surprised to 
find herself, a married woman, living out such a childish fantasy.  No 
doubt she thought she'd long since left behind such things as castles and 
white stallions.  Melanie gave a silent look of reply, as if to comment that 
she, too, was stunned to find herself in such surroundings.  Only Kimberly 
seemed not to notice what an exotic land they'd come to.  No doubt for her, 
consumed as she was with the spacefaring elves and trolls of videoland, 
this was rather dull.  
         A drawbridge emerged from between the mist-shrouded plantlife 
lining the trail ahead.  A fog had come in as they trotted along, 
accompanying the sinking of the sun into the sea.  Melanie felt the first 
shiver of evening.  Was dew forming on her bare skin?  She stroked a slim 
finger along her arm.  It was moist, but whether from the libation that 
accompanied the onset of night, or just from an earlier perspiration, she 
couldn't tell.  Melanie turned her head and looked over her bare shoulder.  
Through passing ferns she watched as the sun dipped into the waves of the 
ocean.  When Sol rose again, what would she be thinking then?  
         Melanie faced forward once more and spied a man standing on the far 
side of the drawbridge.  He was dressed in a thigh-length black bathrobe.  
In his hand he held a drink.  She knew him not, yet the charms of her nude 
body were fully on display for him, to drink in at his leisure with his 
liquor.  Melanie felt her little breast buds tingle as she watched the man 
put his lips to a tiny straw and suck sustenance from it.  What was his 
drink, she wondered?  Would she be offered the same?
Chapter Thirteen

         The Governess met the man on the drawbridge and pointed out each 
of the girls by name to him as they passed.  He nodded to each, and each, 
rather blushingly, replied.  "Hello, Mr. Savin," the girls had been instructed 
to say, though Kimberly gave a smirk and greeted him with "Hello, 
Snotface," instead, then broke helplessly into girlish giggles.  This 
warranted another crack from the Governess' riding crop, but Mr. Savin 
stayed her hand.
         "I like her," Mr. Savin said.  "She has spunk."
         "She ought to have a red bottom," the Governess replied.
         "I want to get down," Kimberly cried out just as the horses filed into 
a big stone chamber.  This was apparently what Mr. Savin had in mind 
anyway, for he ordered the men to help all four females dismount.  
         "Ooch!  This floor is cold!" Melanie said aloud, bending both her knees 
outward in a bow when she hit the ground.  She looked almost as if she had 
been let down onto hot coals.  But after a moment she came to tolerate the 
icy chill of the stone, at least for the near future.  Candy and the other 
girls also remarked on the coldness of the floor as they were let down.
         "Could we meet our friends?" Melanie asked Mr. Savin.
         "I am your friend," Mr. Savin replied.  As if to cement this he 
extended a hand.  Meekly she took it in her own and shook it.
         "She means the ones we came with on the boat," Candy offered.
         "You had sex on the boat?" Mr. Savin asked, then grinned.  "Bad joke, I 
know.  Especially in front of such fine young ladies."
         "Look, we did the initiation thing, swimming in naked," Candy said.  
"Could we get some clothes now and go meet our friends?"
         "How about a nice hot bath first?" Mr. Savin asked with beaming 
eyes.
         "Depends on who it's with," Veronica said.
         "Oh, just the four of you," Mr. Savin said.  He turned to the Governess.  
"Show these young ladies where they may pretty up."  The Governess 
nodded smartly and beckoned her charges.  With mincing steps Melanie, 
Candy, Veronica, and Kimberly followed the Governess across the floor of 
the room toward a curving flight of stone stairs.  Kimberly looked back at 
Mr. Savin.  He nodded politely to her.  Her lips were parted, her eyes wide 
with new things and feelings.  She turned her head away and very daintily 
followed in the footsteps of her sister.  There seemed an extra jiggle in 
her bottomcheeks, as if suddenly she was both aware and appreciative of 
the effect her nude body could have on a man.
         A pretty little bathroom was found, with a huge tub that occupied 
almost the entire room.  The light was dim, so the Governess told David, 
the only man still accompanying the entourage, to light several candles.  
These slim pillars of wax had been scattered about the room in advance of 
the girls' arrival, each on its own gold candlestick.  Incense was lit as 
well, and an odor of jasmine and peppermint began to fill the room.  The 
tap in the tub was opened, and the Governess, bending forward, adjusted 
the taps' twin knobs until she was satisfied with the temperature of the 
water spilling out.  Then she spilled a bottle of fragrant bubble bath into 
the churning water beneath the tap.  Meanwhile, Melanie and Candy and 
Veronica and Kimberly watched David's athletic muscles shift beneath his 
skin as he lit each of the room's candles.
         "Well!  David!  You didn't have to light all the room's candles," the 
Governess said when she looked up again from the tub.  The room had 
become bathed in an aura of light.  Two dozen candles shimmered happily 
over the room's occupants.  David, hardly an expert in English, seemed not 
to understand the Governess, or even realize that she had admonished him.
         "Take a quick bath, girls," the Governess said, turning to her charges.  
"Then we must dress you for our little party."
         "Will we get to see our friends then?" Melanie asked.
         "Oh yes, at least that," the Governess said with a smile.  She turned 
and made for the room's doorway.  Then she stopped and turned about 
again.  She crooked a finger at David.  "Come, David!"
         "We don't mind if he stays," Kimberly piped up.
         "No, but I do," the Governess said.  "He has more chores to do for me."
         "I'll bet," Candy muttered under her breath, climbing over the rim of 
the tub into the bathwater.
         "I heard that," the Governess, her back turned to the girls once more, 
called out.  Candy gave the Governess the finger.
         Holding hands, Melanie and Kimberly stepped into the steaming water 
of the tub.  Then they reached out and helped Veronica in too.  The girls 
stood for a moment, gazing at each other, bending down now and then to 
run their fingers through the water and suds.  Candy was the first to sit 
down, and she let out a little gasp at the heat of the water, followed by a 
satisfied groan.   She laid her back against the side of the tub.  She smiled.
         "Sit down, girls, it's wonderful," Candy beckoned.  Melanie dropped to 
her haunches, letting her hands plunge down to the bottom of the tub.  She 
looked rather funny as she stood with bent knees, butt still high in the air, 
her calves and forearms immersed.  Candy spotted a pod shaped syringe 
along the side of the tub.  She immersed it in the hot water, filling it.  
Melanie was chatting idly with Kimberly and Veronica when a well-aimed 
squirt of water from Candy's pod hit her directly in her exposed anus.  
         "Auch!" Melanie cried out, eyes bulging.  For a moment she just 
stayed as she was, her mind reverberating from the hot injection her anus 
had received.  Then she dropped fully into the water with a splash.  A 
moment later she was upon Candy, pummeling the girl with a cascade of 
close-quarter splashes.  Kimberly and Veronica, not ones to miss out on a 
bit of fun, joined in.  Soon Candy, screaming for her hair not to be made 
wet, found her face being pressed toward the surface of the water by all 
three girls.
         "You already got your hair wet in the ocean, silly!" Kimberly 
admonished Candy.
         "Oh, yeah!" Candy recollected, and then was plunged down into the 
bathwater.
         A contest ensued to see which girl would get dunked next.  Amidst a 
tangle of limbs Kimberly was the next to go down, followed by Melanie.  
Finally Veronica, squealing like a pig about to be butchered, had her face 
submerged as well.
         By the time the Governess came by to see what all the commotion 
was about, the girls had passed on to shampooing each other's hair.  They 
piped back to the Governess that they were fine, and when the Governess 
turned away all four girls gave her the finger.
         "Bath time is over, girls," the Governess was saying rather harshly 
half an hour later, as the girls played on.  Reluctantly, at the Governess' 
urging, the foursome left the tub behind and endured a vigorous towelling 
off by four men who showed up just for the purpose.  Of course Kimberly 
complained that she could dry herself, echoing the thoughts of her 
comrades, but the Governess would have none of it.
         The girls were given furry slippers and led down a hall.  They asked 
to take their towels with them, but the Governess would not allow it.  
"You're still in your initiation phase," the Governess cautioned.  "Just do as 
I say and quit being such little sissies."  The girls might have protested 
such a statement but the men who had towelled them off were following 
just behind, no doubt admiring their bare bottoms.  The men were 
bodybuilders, and seemed to want nothing more in the world than to obey 
the Governess.
         The next surprise in store for the girls lay in the bedroom into which 
they were led.  Upon a silken eiderdown lay stockings and bras, panties and 
babydoll nighties.  At the foot of the bed were four pairs of pumps.  No 
clothing other than this was evident.
         "Please dress for the party, girls," the Governess said.  The men had 
not entered the bed chamber.  The Governess, at the door, closed the girls 
in and locked the door behind her.
         "What a fix we've gotten ourselves into!" Melanie cried.
         "I'm getting sick of Ms. Governess' snotty attitude, although at first 
I admit I liked it."
         "You have a weakness for women who are in charge," Melanie said.  
         "I do too." Kimberly piped up.  "I like to stick my tongue out at them!"  
She demonstrated, but none of the other girls seemed interested.
         "These are beautiful," Veronica said, sitting down on the side of the 
bed and admiring the lingerie.  "They've been picked just for us, too.  Look!  
There's a note here that says which ones would probably look best on 
which girl.  It's from Mr. Savin."
         "Fuck Mr. Savin," Candy said.  "He's a royally cool dude, but probably a 
royal asshole too.  Anyone with this much money must be."
         "I like him," Kimberly said self-consciously.  She had seated herself 
on the bedside, and stroked a nightie with her fingers.  "I like him more 
than the Governess, anyway."
         "Well, maybe we should look on the bright side," Melanie said, 
padding over to the bedside to examine the lingerie.  "We are still working 
off all that money Rob and Renoir gave us...I think."
         "Yeah, I guess so," Candy said.  "But come morning I'm going to be 
looking for a boat to take me home."  At the girls' remark about payment 
Veronica and Kimberly perked up their ears.  For the next 20 minutes, as 
the girls slowly dressed, they delved more deeply into their experiences 
of the last few weeks.  By the time the Governess came to get them they 
had made a pact to enjoy the night, then leave the island at first light.
         The party never happened.  The girls were being ushered down the 
long stone stairway, back into the round room the horses had entered, 
when the raid hit.  Kimberly was squirming under the watchful, admiring 
eye of Mr. Savin as she descended the stairs.  Mr. Savin was standing 
amidst newly hung festoons and banners, a drink in his hands.  Strong, 
sturdy workmen, naked from the waist up, were busy hanging the last of a 
clutch of speckled balloons.  Suddenly police and Coastguardsmen burst 
into the room.  Automatic fire opened up, and the girls ducked behind the 
solid stone bannister that ran along the stairs.  
         For several moments Melanie crouched with her eyes shut, her hands 
clapped over her ears.  Then, perhaps out of curiosity, she opened her eyes 
just a bit.  The sight that met her was astonishing.  The Governess was 
standing, fully erect, still in front of the girls, as if to continue leading 
them down to Mr. Savin.  But in her hands she held an Uzi, procured from 
somewhere, and she was boldly spraying the room with it, firing at Mr. 
Savin's attackers.  Beyond the Governess, on the steps below, two of Mr. 
Savin's men lay dead.  For what seemed like an eternity to frightened 
Melanie the Governess blasted the intruders with grim determination.  
Finally Melanie heard "Get that Bitch!" and, a moment later, was splattered 
with blood.  Before her the Governess whipped to one side, then slowly 
toppled forward.  Another blast of automatic fire hit her body, and the 
Governess collapsed in a heap on the stairs.
         Melanie felt a hand tug at her hair.  She turned, and her eyes met 
Veronica's.  Had she too witnessed the brave drama of the Governess' last 
stand?  If so, she did not show it.  
         "Come on!" Veronica breathed hotly.  Trembling with terror, Melanie 
scurried after her friend up the stone stairs.  As she scuttled up the hewn 
steps, keeping her head below the shielding banister, she looked back over 
her shoulder one last time at the Governess.  Whatever the woman's 
weaknesses, and no doubt she had many, she had stood solidly at the last 
to defend the lifestyle she believed in.
         As Melanie reached the top of the stairs she had to climb over Candy, 
who was lying across the uppermost steps.  Seemingly Oblivious to what 
was going on around her, Candy was busy kicking in a little wooden panel 
with her heel.  The panel was set in the wall, next to the uppermost step.  
It had a keyhole set into it, and was obviously locked.  Candy, though, was 
smashing the panel to bits with swift thrusts of her spiked heel.  A 
moment later, the door in ruins, Candy hunched forward.  She tore at the 
splintered door.
         "What are you doing?" Melanie hissed, as another burst of bullets 
flew overhead.
         "There's guns in here!" Candy said.  "I saw one of the guards fetch 
some out of a box across the hall."  Melanie turned her head and looked 
back over her shoulder.  Across the hall, near the floor, was a similar 
panel, but its door was standing wide open.  The cavity beyond was empty.
         "You're nuts!  What do we need guns for?!" Melanie cried to Candy.
         "This place is loaded with money, jewels, dope, all kinds of shit!" 
Candy said, pressing an Uzi unwanted into Melanie's small hands.  "You 
want the Feds to get it all?"  Both girls' attention was distracted as 
several of Mr. Savin's guards, farther on down the hall, suddenly appeared 
and fired at the cops downstairs.  There was a sort of balcony formed by 
the upstairs hall as it passed over the room below.  The guards fired from 
the balcony at the police.  Immediately one of them was hit and fell to the 
floor.  But the other two dropped down, weathered a hail of bullets, and 
then rose once more to return fire.
         "Should we help him?" Melanie asked Candy of the fallen guard.  But 
Candy grabbed her arm and urged her up off the steps.  Candy had three 
Uzis in the crook of her other arm, looking like Rambo without muscles but 
with an overabundance of firepower.  She let go of Melanie in the hall and 
forced two of her Uzis into the hands of Kimberly and Veronica.  Then 
Candy scampered back to the stairs, and returned a moment later with an 
armful of ammo clips.  She was wearing a baby doll nightie, and this she 
unceremoniously tore from her body.  Presumably this was the fastest way 
to access the waistband of her panties, which she immediately began 
clipping rounds of ammo on to.  She urged the other girls to do the same.  
Kimberly, who was wearing a babydoll nightie but no panties, daintily 
clipped several rounds of ammo along the bosom of her nightie.  Very 
reluctantly Veronica did the same.  
         "You're an idiot, you know that?!" Melanie cried to Candy as she lifted 
her babydoll to clip several rounds of ammo to the waistband of her own 
panties.
         "I know.  I'm also greedy," was Candy's reply, said with hotly glowing 
eyes.  Then she spun about and ran down the hall, kicking off her high heels 
as she went.  "Come on!  I know where Savin's office is!" Candy called.
         "When we were riding up to the castle I looked up at the windows 
and asked the Governess which one belonged to the man in charge," Candy 
explained some minutes later, as the girls stood in the office of Mr. Savin.  
"From that I was able to guess where his office was."  The girls, however, 
were not much interested in Candy's self-indulgent explanation, nor in 
hefting bags of money from Mr. Savin's office safe.
         Luckily for Candy's interests, when the girls had entered the office 
they had found Mr. Savin's office safe standing wide open, two men dead on 
the floor right by it.  Apparently both men had had the identical idea of 
betraying Mr. Savin and stealing his money.  But they had shot each other 
dead competing for it.  
         Melanie could not look at the grisly sight of the two dead guards.  
And there was one other sight that she could almost not look at; that of 
Gwen strapped over Mr. Savin's desk, her once white bottom bruised and 
wealed, red as a beet.  Kimberly, in tears, was kneeling behind Gwen, 
kissing the weals on her bottom.  Apparently Kimberly's love for Gwen had 
been a bit greater than Melanie had realized.  Veronica, though she had 
never met Gwen before, was also weeping at her plight.  But she was also 
working to untie Gwen from the desk.
         "Help me!" Veronica implored Melanie.  The blonde ran over to where 
Gwen was strapped down and began pulling at the bonds.  
         "Find a knife!" Candy ordered.  "You'll never get her loose that way!"  
Though Candy had shared love with Gwen in the past, tonight the lure of 
wealth seemed uppermost in her mind.  She had been as shocked as the 
rest at the sight of Gwen, but then had gone straight for the safe, at the 
same time ordering the girls to loose Gwen.
         Melanie and Veronica cast about the room for a knife.  The room was 
bare, save for the desk and safe, and a chair.  
         "Check the guards!" Candy ordered.  She was crouching now, trying to 
get a feel for the contents of each bag she'd drawn from the safe.  
Surprisingly, the bags contained not just money, but jewels as well, 
nestled amongst the wads of bills.  Clearly, Candy would have to make 
some fast decisions about what sort of loot would be the most profitable 
for the girls to carry out.
         Melanie could not bear to search the guards clothing, but she did 
hunker down next to Veronica as the woman made a search.  There were 
tears streaming from both females' eyes as they looked for a knife.  
Behind them Kimberly had fallen into a hopeless bawl, clutching Gwen's 
hips with her arms, her face pressed against the backs of Gwen's thighs.
         A knife was found in one of the guard's pockets, and Veronica jumped 
up with the prize and raced over to Gwen.  David appeared at the door.  
Melanie spotted him and a wave of relief passed over her.  "David!" Melanie 
cried, wide-eyed.  He ran into the room.
         "Hurry!  We must go!" David cried to Melanie, then passed on to Gwen.  
He flinched as he saw what had been done to her bottom.  Then, 
wordlessly, he moved round to the far side of the desk to help Veronica 
cut Gwen loose.  A moment later and the girls were helping Gwen to her 
feet.  She stood up stiffly, and seemed to want to collapse back onto the 
desk.  But the girls, including Kimberly (still crying), urged her to remain 
standing.  Then they helped her to begin to walk.
         "David!  Help me with this money!" Candy called out from over by the 
safe.  She had tied two bags together and slung them over one of her 
shoulders.  David came to her and hoisted two more bags.  They had already 
been tied together by Candy.  He draped the bags over one of his shoulders.  
Then he grabbed two more, and adorned the other shoulder with these.
         David knew the castle's layout seemingly by heart, and he led the 
girls from the office and down a myriad of halls to an exit deep in the 
bowels of the fortress.  A natural cavern lay beneath part of the castle, 
and the girls and David used this as their escape route.  They emerged like 
furtive mice from the cavern down near the beach.  The two speedboats 
which had accompanied the girls in their swim to the shore were still 
grounded there in the sand, tied to the stone penises.  
         "There be a yacht out there at sea, under Jupiter," David said, 
pointing.  With some effort he made it clear to the girls that the bright 
star sinking slowly toward the sea was in fact the planet Jupiter, and that 
a yacht beckoned for the purpose lay waiting to pick them up.
         "I don't want to board Savin's yacht," Candy said hotly.  "We just 
stole his shit!"
         "No matter!" David said, waving his hands, clearly in a hurry to get 
going.  "Must go there.  Speedboat got no fuel--no enough fuel to get to 
shore!"
         "Oh, shit!" Candy swore.  Reluctantly she got in one of the speedboats 
and agreed to meet at the yacht.  Both speedboats had to be used, as it 
would have been a very tight fit for all of them to get into one.  On top of 
that it would have put the boat low in the water and slowed its speed.  
Soon both boats were racing across the waves, Melanie, Gwen, and David in 
one; Candy, Kimberly, and Veronica in the other.
         "I wanted to ride with David!" Kimberly, dry eyed now, whined.
         "Shut up," Candy said, steering the boat the three of them shared.  
"We all want to ride with David.  On him, for that matter."
         "Yes, he does have a big one, doesn't he?" Kimberly asked.  "I saw it 
once!"
         "Look for the yacht," Veronica admonished.
         "What do you think happened to Mr. Savin?" Kimberly asked, bug-eyed.  
"I hope he didn't get shot!"  The other two girls did not answer, but 
Kimberly continued to wonder aloud anyway, letting her thoughts roam to 
the fate of each person she'd met on the island, even the horses.
         It was David who spotted the yacht, and he led the other speedboat 
to it.  When they had reached the vessel a portable staircase was cast over 
the side of the yacht, and David and the girls hastily scrambled up it.    
         "Get below decks," a man aboard the yacht told the newcomers.  
Obeying, they made for the hold.  There they collapsed with fatigue as they 
felt the yacht open its engines full throttle in a desperate race against 
time for the coast.
         Melanie was curled up beside Gwen on a fold-away bed when one of 
the deck hands came down the stairs to the hold.  
         "We need you above," the man said to David.  "Bring your gun.  Brings 
the girl's guns too."
         "I'm keeping mine," Candy said, pressing her Uzi to her chest.  
         "Mine too!" Kimberly piped up, doing the same.  Melanie and Veronica, 
though, were more than happy to give their guns over to David.  The deck 
hand walked over to Kimberly and urged the Uzi from her.  Then he went to 
Candy.
         "I'm keeping the gun!" Candy said sternly to the deck hand, turning 
the Uzi on him.  The man just laughed and reached for the gun.
         "Oh, give it to him!" Veronica said, brushing her hair back with one 
hand.  
         "No, don't.  Let her keep it," Gwen said.  She sat up on the bed, 
wincing as her bottomcheeks rolled over it.  By this time the man had 
Candy's Uzi by the barrel and had forced it upward toward the ceiling.  
Still smiling, but applying ever greater strength, he yanked the gun from 
Candy's hands.  As he got full possession of the gun his smile quickly 
passed away.  Just before he turned his head away from Candy he had a 
very frightening look on his face.  
         "Ah, good!" the deck hand said, spying David by the stairs.  Though 
Candy could not see the deck hand's face, by the tone of his voice he was 
obviously smiling again.  David turned and made his way up the stairs.  The 
deck hand followed.  A few minutes later the girls heard a short burst of 
gunfire, from an Uzi.
Chapter Fourteen

         A burly man stepped into the hold of the ship.  Two guards came in 
right behind him.
         "Martin!" Melanie cried.  There was fear in her voice.  Gwen started, 
then sat stock still upon the bed.  Her legs were spread.  Her pussy lips 
peeped at Martin from a nest of tight blonde curls.  Martin's face grinned 
in triumph.  
         "Well, well, if it isn't Gwen--and Melanie, and Kimberly too.  And 
even naughty Candy, who thought she could still Mr. Savin's money.  And 
who is this?"  He looked at Veronica, but she said nothing.  "A fine catch, 
I'd say.  Enough to satisfy my sadistic desires for years to come.  Not to 
mention all that lovely loot Candy brought out from the island.  Since Mr. 
Savin's gone, or should be, it's all mine!"
         "Wh-where's David?" Gwen blurted.  "What was that noise we heard?"
         "The gunfire?"  Martin laughed.  "David's food for the fishes now.  His 
hunky body should provide years of feeding."
         "You'd provide years of feeding yourself," Kimberly piped up.  Martin 
had grown a rather large belly since last the girls had seen him, and now 
Kimberly, bold in her naivete, glanced meaningfully at it.
         "You'll get yours in due time," Martin snarled.  He turned and waved 
his deck hands back up the stairs.  The door to the deck was locked as he 
exited the hold.
         The girls looked at each other.  "What'll we do now?" Veronica asked.
         "I knew I should have shot him instead of letting him take my gun," 
Candy said.
         "Melanie, I'm scared," Kimberly whined, and embraced her stepsister 
in a rare show of affection.  Melanie patted the girl consolingly on the 
head, wondering who would console her.
         Suddenly there was a din of gunfire above decks.  "Drop to the floor!" 
Candy cried.  Two bullets pierced the wall of the hold and struck the far 
wall.  The girls fell to the floor and huddled together.
         "It must be the Coast Guard!" Veronica breathed.
         "Fuck!" Candy swore.  She glanced at her bags of money, still perched 
atop the bed.
         "You'd do anything for money, wouldn't you?!" Melanie snapped at 
Candy.
         "Not anything," Candy replied.  "I wouldn't fuck Martin.
         Rounds of gunfire continued to be exchanged, then, after a few 
lurches of the boat, there was complete silence.  Then the girls heard 
footfalls on the deck.  Within a minute someone was at the door to the 
hold, battering it open.  Someone rushed down the stairs, followed by 
others.  The girls gasped when they saw who it was.  No policeman or 
Coast Guard officer, it was a bandaged, bruised, but alive Mr. Savin.
         "Mr. Savin!" Kimberly cried.
         "Call me Fred," Mr. Savin replied with eyes that seemed weary.  
"Please."
         The girls were ushered above deck.  Mr. Savin thanked Candy for 
being so kind to think of his money, and had the men with him carry it up 
from the hold.  Candy bit her lower lip, thanked Mr. Savin for his praise.  
         Above decks the girls saw that a large speedboat was moving 
alongside the yacht.  Martin and his men lay dead, scattered about on the 
yacht's deck.  Once more Melanie had to avert her eyes to avoid seeing the 
worst of the carnage.  This time she also felt like retching.
         "Bottom doing okay?" Fred asked Gwen, giving the bruised flesh a 
little pat.
         "Oooch!  Don't!" Gwen protested, then snuggled close to Fred.  The 
other girls were alarmed by Gwen's affection toward the man who had 
beaten her so severely.  But they said nothing.  Gwen put her tongue to 
Fred's ear and licked it.
         "There should be a seaplane coming," Fred said, scanning the moonlit 
horizon.  Above them stars powdered the entire sky.
         "What about Diane?  And Sherry?  And Rob and Brent?" Melanie asked 
Fred.
         "Only my three men and I escaped," Fred said.  "And me just barely."  
As he spoke the yacht began to turn.
         "Should we continue heading for the coast, sir?" One of Fred's men 
asked, hurrying up to him.
         "God dammit, I just don't know," Fred said.  "The coast is one way, 
the seaplane should be coming from the other."
         "Are--are they dead?" Melanie asked Fred.
         "Who?" 
         "Rob!  And Brent!  And Diane and Sherry!" Melanie cried.
         "Oh," Fred said, his mind elsewhere, still plotting his escape.  "God 
knows.  I hope they're dead, frankly.  Dead men tell no tales."
         "Oh, God!" Melanie cried, and put her hands to her face.  She began to 
sob.  The other girls seemed equally moved by Fred's reply.  All but Gwen, 
who seemed almost to merge with Fred as he held her.
         A light glimmered on the horizon.  "Get down!" Fred called to the 
girls.  "A plane's coming, but I don't know who's!"  He beckoned one of his 
men.  A moment later he was hustling forward toward the bridge, all the 
while still peering out at the light fast approaching along the surface of 
the sea.  Gwen still clung to him.
         Melanie lay on the deck of the yacht and watched through the 
vertical bars of the ship's railing as the light in the sky steadily 
approached.  She didn't know whether to pray it was the Coast Guard or 
Fred's men.  Suddenly the plane roared in over the yacht.  Fred's men called 
out to one another in triumph.  It was their seaplane, the next link in their 
frantic attempt to elude capture.
         Melanie clambered out of the limo, thinking of the past year.  She 
was dressed in a parka, but beneath she wore lingerie much like that she'd 
had on when she'd escaped from Fred's island fortress the previous 
summer.  Kimberly plopped out of the limo behind her.
         "There it is," Kimberly said, her voice small.  Before them stood the 
ski chalet of Lady Burgess.  But it was owned by Gwen now, and she was 
waiting inside for them.  Fred was there too, along with Veronica and 
Candy.  Sherry and Diane were there, and Brent, though Rob had died in the 
firefight on the island.  Renoir and Miriam had been invited, but declined to 
come.  David was there, however.  Martin had lied about David's death.  
When David had gone topside he had run to the side of the yacht and dove 
into the water.  He had reasoned that the girls might be in friendly hands, 
or might not be.  He had decided to dive into the water, just to see what 
the reaction of the men who had picked him up might be.  When they fired 
after him with their Uzis he reasoned that their intentions were 
unfriendly.  Better he be in the water alive, perhaps to help the girls 
somehow, than be on board but dead, waiting to be rolled overboard to the 
sharks.  In the end David wound up having to swim all the way to the coast.  
If Fred's seaplane saw him, it did not stop to pick him up.  Making good the 
escape of Mr. Savin was the seaplane's one and only priority.
         "I want to do it!" Kimberly hissed to Melanie.  The blonde stepped 
aside and let Kimberly take hold of the big brass door knocker on Gwen's 
front door.  The stepsisters were on the front porch now.  Melanie knew 
Gwen must have seen them pull up.  Fred, even.  But there was ritual here.  
They must ask to be admitted before the door would be opened, to ensure 
their complicity in what might follow.  
         Three knocks.  A pause.  Then the front door opened.  Gwen smiled at 
them.  The stepsisters were urged inside by the doorman.  "Hurry if you 
want to come in!  It's cold outside!"  The doorman was David, his English 
better, his muscles bigger.  No doubt Gwen had given him lots of strenuous 
chores to build his lean body up even further.  Gwen gave each of the girls 
a big hug.
         "My!  You're both so beautiful!" Gwen said as David took the 
stepsisters' fur coats.  Melanie had on a white bra, panties, and stockings, 
plus heels.  In addition she wore a pearl necklace, and a bow of pearls in 
her hair.  She wore pearl earrings too, and on one wrist a bracelet of 
pearls.  Fred had shown his heartfelt appreciation for the girls' bringing 
out his money from the island by giving each of them a share.
         Kimberly was dressed just like her stepsister, but all in black, with 
a gold choker and earrings instead of pearls.  On her left hand there was a 
diamond ring though not, it might be added, as a token of marriage, but 
rather as a tease to men that they might long to marry her.  Now that the 
girls had been freed of their furs Gwen kissed each one again.  She was 
wearing a blue babydoll with no panties or bra.  Garters ran down from the 
babydoll, holding up blue stockings.  She was bedecked in jewelry of 
amethyst and diamonds.
         As Melanie pecked Gwen on the cheek, returning her kiss, she felt 
Gwen's hand come to her breast and squeeze it.  Melanie inhaled Gwen's 
wonderful perfume.  She felt Gwen's breasts press up against her own.  
"You've always been my very favorite," Gwen said under her breath.  
Melanie arched her back more, pressing her breasts more fully to Gwen's.  
         "Mine too," Melanie replied and, her mouth still hovering over Gwen's 
cheek, kissed her again.
         "I love you most of all," Kimberly said, standing on tiptoe and 
wrapping her arms about  Gwen's neck when her turn came to share a kiss.  
Kimberly pressed her mouth to Gwen's cheek and held it there.  Demurely 
Gwen caressed the girl's shoulder, toyed with the spaghetti strap of her 
bra.  
         "I love you too," Gwen said to Kimberly.  "Very much."  She returned 
the girl's kiss.  Then she reached round and gave Kimberly's bottom a little 
pinch.
         "Hey!" Kimberly cried.  Happily she broke from Gwen and touched a 
hand to her bottom where she'd been pinched.  Gwen turned and led the 
girls to the waiting partiers.
         Kisses were exchanged between each of the girls and the 
stepsisters.  Then light conversation ensued amongst the guests, the 
females in lingerie and the males in Jockeys with prominent bulges.  A bit 
later Gwen called the room to order.  There was to be a little ceremony, to 
complete the initiation of the girls into Fred's inner circle.  A ceremony 
that had been begun but not finished last summer on the island.  In the 
intervening months the stepsisters had returned home, taken up school in 
the fall, lived like any other girls, though indeed clandestinely a bit 
richer.  Melanie had never pursued whoring again, and figured she probably 
never would.  Candy claimed to still keep whoring open as an option, 
though she too had not done any more.  Veronica had gone back to her 
husband, but she was here tonight, though her husband thought she was off 
visiting her mother.
         The girls were lined up in a row in front of Fred, who was about to 
read from a book.
         "Girls, today you are to be initiated into the island retreat of 
libertine pleasures; though, indeed, the island is unfortunately now in the 
hands of our beloved Government.  In any event, tonight you girls shall kiss 
each of the guests; which, indeed, you have already done, and will no doubt 
do some more.  In addition you must bare yourselves--"  At this last 
Melanie felt Veronica's hand steal to her bottom, and feel her pantied rear.  
Melanie was standing right next to Veronica, and responded by putting a 
hand to Veronica's bottom.  She pressed her fingers into Veronica's 
bottomcrack, as if to say, "And there, double for you!"  Veronica rubbed 
Melanie's bottom, pressing her hand hard against the cheeks as Fred in 
detail ticked off the various implements which would be made available to 
the members of the club for whacking the girl's bottoms.  It would be 
nothing like what Gwen endured, that would come much later, months 
hence, and only if the girls acceded to it.  Tonight it would be just a little 
teaser, enough to turn their bottoms and bright shade of pink and give the 
members and bit of wicked fun.  Veronica, however, had daringly asked 
Fred before the party that he give her a few more whacks than the other 
girls.  
         When Fred's droning litany was over, the girls separated.  Each was 
attended to by one female, who completely undressed her down to her 
thigh-high stockings and pumps.  Even the girls' jewelry was removed.  
Then, in this near-naked state, bottoms bulging, each girl was embraced 
by her female attendant in a bold, deep kiss.  Melanie was being seen to by 
Gwen, and as they kissed, arms delicately looping about each other, 
Melanie felt one of her bare breasts jut between Gwen's ample bosoms.          
The babydoll did little to keep Gwen's breasts from surging forward to 
engage Melanie's.  Their mouth's meshed, tongues lapping at and within 
each other's lips.  Gwen let her palm slide down over the white cheeks of 
Melanie's bottom.  Soon even such a soft caress as Gwen gave Melanie 
there would sting.  And Melanie's bottom, now chilly in its nudity, would 
soon long for a reprieve from heat.
         Candy was embraced by Sherry, Veronica by Diane, Kimberly by yet 
another girl.  Finally, when the men's lust had been properly stoked by the 
cooing female couples, the initiates were separated from their attendants.  
Then they were walked over to the side of the room, where a settee 
waited to receive them.  The settee had all the while been there, turned 
about so that its back faced out toward the center of the room.  A small 
cushion was laid atop the settee for each girl before she was pressed up 
against it and bent over.  Between the seat cushions of the settee were 
little leather straps, bolted down to the sofa, for the girls to hang on to.
         When each girl had been bent over Gwen walked along the front of 
the settee, next to the wall, and slipped a bit of rubber into each girl's 
mouth.  "Bite down hard," Gwen advised as she slipped the rubber into each 
girl's orifice.  Melanie tossed her head once, trying to get the hair out of 
her eyes as she waited for the proceedings to begin.  Behind her she could 
hear a trunk brought out, then the comments of the guests as they 
inspected the various implements of flagellation inside the trunk and 
aimed to pick one that would please them.  Melanie heard Fred say that he 
would take the Cat O' Nines.  Melanie flinched when she heard someone 
mention electrodes; then, amidst the laughter of the guests, she realized 
it was only a joke.
         "Now girls, we have something called the 'regulation distance,'" 
Gwen said.  She explained that each girl's ankles must be spread to a 
distance of two feet.  Bumping and jostling, the girls attempted to comply.  
Melanie was beginning to wonder if this had really been a wise decision 
for her as she felt the air of the room tingle upon her newly exposed sex.  
It was cooler now; the heater had been shut off.  This was so the initiates 
would feel the distinction between their bodies, soon to be chilly, 
compared to the heat of their soon to be spanked bottoms.  In addition, the 
cooler air would keep the people whipping their bottoms from breaking out 
into a sweat.
         Sherry began at one end of the row of initiates, Diane at the other.  
Each daintily knelt at the initiate's feet.  The work they did there was as 
follows:  Veronica, at the far right, had her right ankle bound to the foot 
of the couch with a leather cord.  Then Veronica's left ankle was bound to 
Melanie's right with another cord of leather.  Melanie's pump clicked 
against Veronica's as they were brought together.  
         Bent over next to Melanie was Candy, the two partners in crime now 
fully displayed for a bit of free, legal sexual fun.  (Though no doubt if a 
film had been made of what they were about to undergo it would be 
strictly illegal.)  Finally, wriggling on the left, looking a bit like a girl 
dressing just one or two years ahead of her age, was Kimberly.  Indeed she 
was just a bottom now, and a fairly restrained one at that, but her 
inability to keep still even when tied belied her tender years.
         "Settle down," Sherry said calmingly to Kimberly, stroking the girl's 
thigh.  "You're like a calf about to be branded."  Sherry raised the level of 
her voice as she spoke for, indeed, Kimberly's head was on the other side 
of the settee.
         "Mf amf lf a clf about to be branded!" Kimberly mumbled through her 
rubber bit, dropping it with the final words.  A girl in front, shy and 
unaffected as Diane, picked up Kimberly's rubber bit from the cushions 
beneath her face.
         "Here," the girl, named Cheryl, said, gently replacing the bit.  "You 
mustn't speak or you'll drop it.  Then they'll have to tie something over 
your mouth to hold it in."  Cheryl pressed at the bit to make sure it was 
held just right between Kimberly's teeth.  Then she brushed back a long 
mane of yellow hair and added, "You need only listen and obey right now, 
Kimber."  (Cheryl had made up this nickname for her little charge since 
they'd been introduced.)
         A moment more and all four female's ankles were bound one to 
another and, and the ends of the settee, to a leg of the piece of furniture.  
"Why must we be bound?" Melanie wanted to ask her hosts, but dared not 
for dropping her rubber bit and making Cheryl have to replace it, complete 
with an admonishment.  At least their wrists were not bound.  They were 
expected to hold on to their straps like proper ladies throughout the 
initiation.  But, Melanie wondered, would she be able to?  Melanie looked 
over toward Kimberly, but couldn't see her little stepsister due to the 
presence inbetween of Candy's head.  Suddenly Candy's head lurched up and 
a grimace came to her soft features as, simultaneously, Melanie heard the 
swift crack of leather on flesh.  Fear involuntarily spread its tentacles 
through Melanie's stomach.  The ceremony's main feature, so long in 
preparation, had begun!  As Candy's head sprang up from the blow, her 
hands straining to hold on to the straps, Melanie saw Kimberly's face turn 
toward her, eyes wide with girlish terror.  Then Candy's head rebounded 
back toward the cushions and blocked the view.
         Melanie braced herself for the blow she knew must come.  
Stunningly, she instead felt a wetness sprinkled onto her bottom.  As a 
brief odor of perfume wafted by, a female voice said, "I prefer to wet 
them down before a good walloping.  It makes it sting more."  Melanie tried 
to turn her head as best she could to look behind her.  She caught a glimpse 
of a woman holding a bottle of scent spray aloft with a flourish.  Then the 
bottle descended again and more liquid perfume droplets rained upon 
Melanie's bottom, leaving just the slightest tingle of a sting.  "And now 
the belt, if you please," the woman said.  Melanie's neck muscles strained 
as she again tried to get as best a view as possible.  She saw a slither of 
flat leather pass behind her.  Melanie's long hair, such an asset most of the 
time to her, now nastily tumbled down over her face, obscuring her view.  
"This one looks like she should be able to stand a really good walloping," 
the woman said.  Melanie trembled.  She did not even know this woman!  
Yet now her sex was bared to her.  If they had spoken, Melanie had 
forgotten.  She had been introduced to a host of people at this party.  But 
inside she had felt nervous, reducing her ability to pay attention, to do 
anything more than nod and answer as politely as she could.  And, on top of 
that, she had been most interested in her friends, whom she had not seen 
for six months.  But were they her friends, really?  She had only known 
Sherry for the space of an afternoon.  Even Gwen she had only known a 
week, and had been introduced to her by being tied to a post and given over 
to the naughtiness of her little stepsister!  Melanie felt like a side of beef 
on display in a butcher shop.  These were less friends at her rear than 
customers, people who saw her only in terms of their own enjoyment!  
         "It is better to give than to receive," the woman said, and Melanie's 
fingers froze upon the sofa straps as she heard a swish behind her in the 
air.
         "Auchgh!" Melanie cried, rearing up.  Before she knew it she had 
dropped her bit and was standing behind the settee, legs still in their 
enforced spread, hands on her bottom.  Melanie rubbed the flaming 
hemispheres.  She tottered on her widely spread heels as she fought to 
maintain her balance.  Manly hands came to her shoulders, steadied her.
         Melanie looked about and bit her lower lip.  A flush of 
embarrassment came over her face.  She looked into the visage of Rob.  
From him she looked at the others, assembled about her, looks of 
disapproval on her face.  "I-I'm sorry!" Melanie stammered.  She felt 
mortified!  She had expected her little stepsister to jump up!  But her?  
Surely she could not really be standing, too immature to hold on to the 
sofa straps.  She had even dropped her bit!
         "Bend down again," Rob urged.  With a sad bowing of her head Melanie 
let Rob put her back over the sofa's rear.  Gently he adjusted the pillow 
under her tummy once more.  As Melanie's face came back down to the seat 
cushions Cheryl was there, bit in hand.  
         "You must bite down hard, like this," Cheryl demonstrated.  Melanie 
lifted her chin and watched as Cheryl took Melanie's bit, coated with 
Melanie's saliva, and placed it within her mouth.  Cheryl clamped down on 
the bit, seemed to say "See?" over her lips.  Then she removed it from her 
mouth and offered it to Melanie.  Reluctantly Melanie accepted the bit once 
more.
         A woman floated to the front of the settee, where the girls' heads 
were, and drew forth fur-lined handcuffs.  She cuffed Melanie's wrist to 
Sherry's.  
         "Let me do the little one next," a female voice said.  Kimberly felt 
affronted at this description, and hoped the "little" only applied to her age.  
In size, she was sure, she was almost as big as the other girls!
         "No," another interrupted.  "The little one must be taught patience.  
Let her be done last."
         "That means the mother of two next," the first voice said.  
         "Yes."
         "Such a trim bottom for a mother, yet fully mature, not bony at the 
hips like the little one."
         "It's that 'boniness' that makes her bottom so pert!" A male voice 
said.  "I like it."  Kimberly heard the man and knew he was talking of her.  
She felt a sense of pride.
         "You, dear, should have been locked up years ago for your aesthetic 
tastes regarding the female species, and I'm sure if you didn't have such a 
wonderful lawyer you would have been," a woman's voice said.
         "Get on with it," the man replied.  "Are you going to whack her or 
not?"
         "Mmm, we females get first crack, and you males are sooo impatient 
for us to hurry so you can have your turns aren't you?" the woman said.  
"Well, Mr. Molester, I want you to give this fine mother's bottom over here 
a little lick."  Melanie felt movement beyond her, past her, as if the woman 
was urging the man toward Veronica.  And she was.  "That's it, bend over 
and eat her pussy.  Perhaps its your first taste of it, hmmm?  Of woman's 
pussy, I mean.  You should be made to eat it until you prefer it to nothing 
else."  
         Veronica felt the roughness of a man's face touch upon her heinie, 
then a very tentative lick along her labia.  The man's clothes rustled as he 
stood back up.  
         "Hmm?  Well?" the woman asked.  
         "Aged to perfection," the man said.
         "Oh!  All you men are nothing but perverts!" the woman exclaimed.  "I 
want each one of you to come here and lick this woman's pussy.  Right now!  
Do it!"  The men must not, in fact, have been as depraved as the woman 
alleged, for they pressed in upon Veronica and jostled one another for a 
taste.  Soon the woman was having to use a riding crop to beat them off.
         "One lick!  That's all!  You've had your turn!" the woman cried, 
somewhat pleased at the virility of the men's response all the same.  
Finally the men, so that none would get more than the other, all agreed to 
desist.
         Veronica was swooning.  Such pleasure!  She had never entertained a 
whole roomful of male tongues up her pussy before!  She was still 
shivering with delight as she heard the woman lift her aforementioned 
riding crop high in the air with an ominous swish.  Veronica had just time 
enough to tense before the crop came blazing down.
         "Mmmmf!" Veronica lurched upward, caught herself, her fingers 
straining at the loops of leather in the seat of the settee.  WHACK!  Again 
the crop came, as if Veronica had disappointed the woman by not standing 
up as Melanie had.  Again, just barely, Veronica managed to hold on.
         "She's well trained, this one," the woman torturer said of Veronica.  
There was a note of dismay in her voice.  Veronica clenched her teeth hard 
against the bit.  If the woman had only known how close she had come to 
breaking...  Now that Veronica had proven herself Melanie's other wrist 
was handcuffed with a second set of cuffs to her.  Melanie gulped.  Now 
she could only rise up if one or the other girl chose to.  Otherwise, she 
was as immobile as a prisoner in the Tower of London.
         "And now for little Kimberly," a woman, different from the other, 
said.
         "Isn't this past your bed time?" Kimberly's female torturer asked her 
mockingly.  Kimberly did her best to suppress a fierce blush of anger.  
"Well, I'm told you're quite naughty," the woman continued.  Kimberly felt 
the warning tap of a birch rod upon her bottom.  "The funny thing about 
naughtiness, though, is that a good beating drives it right out," the woman 
went on.  "I've heard so much talk lately of costly psychologists, expensive 
books and tapes and such, but really all one needs for a bad girl is a stick.  
It's best if it comes from a birch tree, of course.  But really any will do.  
Lift your bottom high, girl, and I shall demonstrate to our friends here.  
Even they will notice a change in you when I'm done."
         If any of the four initiates could have lifted her bottom any higher, 
it was not Kimberly.  Being the smallest of the four, she could barely 
reach the straps she was required to hold on to, while still keeping her 
feet on the floor at the other end.  Indeed, her spiked heels did not quite 
touch the floor, although her toes did.  Her youthful bottom jutted up 
mercilessly, seemingly like a bubble on the brink of bursting.
         The woman rubbed the scratchy birch rod over Kimberly's bottom.  
Unlike her stepsister's hiney, hers had been permitted to remain dry.  
Kimberly squirmed.  The little buds on the birch tickled with an 
invidiousness that belied their true purpose.  This was silly!  If her bottom 
didn't itch, why should it be scratched?  She was beginning not to like the 
ways of adults.  Kimberly looked over at Candy.  If only she could be like 
her!  She had borne her stroke with utmost stoicism.  It was funny, girls 
were taught to be emotional, to react impulsively to every little thing in 
their lives.  Yet now they must not.  Just the opposite was required.  They 
must suppress their feelings and bear their strokes with dignity.
         A whistling at Kimberly's bottom indicated the inevitable.  WHICK!  
With implacable efficiency the pencil-thin birch rod bit mightily into 
Kimberly's bottom.  Its buds sought out targets all across her flesh, 
snooping into even her most intimate places.  
         Kimberly leapt up.  Her hands flew to her bottom and she began 
rubbing it furiously.  And then, like a newborn babe, a torrent of tears 
erupted from her.  She knew she could not withstand the blows of the 
birch without flinching, like the older girls had.  Not now, not ten strokes 
from now.  
         "Let her go!  She's too young!" Melanie cried, trying to rise herself 
but unable to.
         Kimberly wanted very much to agree with her sister, and even felt 
herself nodding her head in agreement.  Yet she wanted so much to grow 
up!  She felt as abysmal as a 5-year-old who wakes up to find a wet bed.  
Fred came to her then, stroking her, caressing her.  His fly must have been 
unbuttoned, for she felt a strong, knobby presence press its way 
insistently between her bottom cheeks.  Kimberly felt a wave of self-
assurance.  She couldn't be too little, if she was able to affect a man's rod 
like that.  Fred seemed to try to pull his hips back, as if embarrassed that 
he had let himself drive into her like that.  But Kimberly arched her back 
and pushed out her bottom as far as it would go, recapturing him.  This 
time Fred did not retreat.
         "Will you go on?" Fred asked gently of Kimberly.
         "Yeth," Kimberly lisped.  She wanted him to hold her like that 
forever, her bottom protected from the fierce birch, yet a newfound home 
to what could be Fred's equally fierce manhood.  It was a strange sort of 
paradox.  Fred's breath blew hotly upon her neck.  He kissed her cheek, 
almost as a father would.  Her education must continue.
         Kimberly let herself be bent back over the couch.  Cheryl was 
waiting for her, bit in hand, cuffs at the ready.  "C'mon, Kimber," Cheryl 
said chidingly.  Yet her words were only those of a friend helping another 
get over something she must, like a first foray on a swing, a first trip 
down a waterslide.  Feeling the gravest of reservations Kimberly watched 
as Cheryl bound her wrists with the handcuffs.  One was to Candy, but the 
other to the forever unmutinous wooden arm of the couch.
         "There, I think we can proceed now," Kimberly's female torturer said 
sternly.  Once more the withy birch explored her bottom before striking.  
When the woman felt ready, she lifted the birch.  WHACK!  The second blow 
came home, and it was twice as bad as the first.
         Almost simultaneously the flagelletory implements of the girls' 
other torturers hit home.  A series of muted cries rang through the room.  
Two of the girls held their bits, but Melanie and Kimberly lost theirs 
again.  More blows reined down, in a general free for all, four female 
assailants, four victims.  Melanie managed to stifle her screams, despite 
the lack of a bit.  Cheryl, seeing that Kimberly would never give up 
dropping her bit, gave up trying to hold it in for the girl and tied a silken 
handkerchief over Kimberly's cheeks.  "Oh, if only the handkerchief were 
over my nether cheeks!"  Cheryl knew Kimberly must be thinking.  Then 
Cheryl rose and crossed to Melanie, where she retrieved the girl's bit and 
placed it back in, then helped it stay in place by holding it there for the 
next several blows.  Finally she pulled her hand back and watched with 
admiration as Melanie managed to retain the bit while suffering the most 
formidable of blows.
         Soon the female torturers were replaced by others, and finally by 
men.  Each person brought his favorite implement to bear on the upraised 
bottoms.  Finally, at Gwen's urging, Fred called a halt.
         "Let the girls have a chance to catch their breath," Fred said.  "Then 
we'll go one more round."  Melanie's bit dropped from her mouth and her 
eyes widened.  Her bottom felt on fire!  How could they possibly go a 
second round?  Her poor hiney!  Melanie looked over at Candy and the girl 
looked at her.  Candy's face was red.  A tear trickled down one cheek.  
Melanie licked the corner of her own mouth and tasted salt.  She must be 
crying silent tears too.  Melanie shifted, pain shooting through her bottom, 
and looked at Veronica.  The woman looked straight ahead.  She too had let 
her bit fall.  Her mouth lolled open, like a cow looking for something to 
chew.  A man came round and offered her his penis.  She accepted it 
without protest.  Seconds later the same treat was accorded to Melanie.  
Soon all four initiates were sucking upon male stems, dutifully drawing 
forth the first pearling drops of nectar that they knew churned in the balls 
just below.
         Little Kimberly looked like she was sucking fluid from the end of a 
rainspout, so big was the man's penis in comparison to her child-like face.  
Why indeed the largest man in the group had chosen Kimberly to receive 
his seed was certainly a question the young girl must have been pondering 
as she struggled to do well by him.  Finally, with a burst that felt it must 
have exploded from a ruptured dam, the man's musky nectar blasted into 
Kimberly, causing her such shock that she threw back her head and nearly 
uprooted him from her mouth.  But the man grasped her head between both 
his sturdy hands and forced her back onto him, burrowing deeper even than 
he had dared venture before.  Not until the last drop of cum had been swept 
from his balls did he allow little Kimberly to unburden herself of his cock.  
Just as quickly, however, another man took his place, and, judging from 
his size, he must have been the second biggest cock in the room!
         Fred chose to spend in Melanie.  As the blonde gazed at his hairy 
stomach and, occasionally, up at his face, the blow job became almost a 
romantic experience.  There was great tenderness in Fred's eyes, yet 
complete firmness too.  It was with relish that Melanie serviced this 
particular gentleman.  Other fine fellows followed, but none, it seemed 
like him.  Was it merely the power he exercised?  His wealth?  Certainly 
his body ranked among the top men in the room, though how he found the 
time to train it was beyond her.  Even at the party he had not been far from 
a phone, breaking away occasionally to guide his ongoing business deals.
         "Now that the girls have had a little nourishment, let's give them an 
opportunity to raise the men back from the dead so that we women can 
have some too," Gwen announced.  The initiates bits were replaced.
         "IÑI can't go on with this any longer," Melanie said pleadingly to 
Cheryl, speaking for what she knew were the feelings of all four initiates.
         "It is only for a little while longer," Cheryl replied in a comforting 
voice, though it gave no comfort to Melanie.  She felt the hardness of the 
rubber bit between her teeth once more.
         "Mmmff!" Melanie cried.  Already it had begun again.  Around her she 
heard discussion of new weapons of choice, and then the now familiar 
cracking against flesh as they met their first tests.  Kimberly was taken 
to with a birch rod once more, though the rod was now a new one, despite 
the fact that she still had the same old red-laced bottom.  Kimberly 
squirmed her skinny hips.
         "YFCHCHCH!" Kimberly screamed beneath her gag as the new birch bit 
into her.  She began to cry freely.
         Candy had heard of a woman in Egypt once who had been flayed alive.  
Truly, she thought that was what must be happening to her bottom.  Only 
half an hour ago it had been white and flawless.  Now she knew it must be 
all red, for it seemed as if someone had taken a match to it.  She squished 
her eyelids shut as another blow from a small whip made its presence felt 
on her bottom in a big way.  How long could she endure?  She felt as if she 
must cough out her bit at any moment.
         Veronica nearly spit out her own bit as the broad leather of a 
spanking strap was applied to her bottom.  It was being delivered by a 
man, who apparently took delight in the idea of a mature mother of two 
like herself being disciplined with an implement made primarily for 
children.  The force of the man's blows kept the spanking strap from being 
too easy a torture for Veronica.  Each strike sent her reeling with pain.
         Melanie was being done with a pony whip, courtesy of a man who 
billed himself as a cop.  If so, he must be a corrupt one to go about in the 
company of Fred.  Each admonitory swing of the whip sent Melanie wanting 
to gallop straight off the couch and through the wall.  Did he think she was 
a girl, or a horse?  Did he even care?
         Finally ice was brought and the four initiates were given a soothing 
wash down, one ice cube on their bottoms at a time.  The ice itself was so 
cold that it managed to apply a sting of its own.  By now Melanie and the 
rest were nearly beyond consciousness.  They seemed to float in a 
neverland of euphoria usually reserved only for the imbibers of illegal 
drugs.  Yet the girls had both feet, and bottoms, firmly planted in reality.  
Every twitch of their heinies brought new spasms of pain, yet in a sense 
even as they felt the pain they now felt cut off from it.  Certainly this 
was not a party any of them would soon forget!  Melanie thought back to 
her first prom, of dancing with a boy she thought she must live with for 
every second of the rest of her life.  She sort of felt that way about Fred 
now, despite the torture which he had orchestrated for her and her friends.
         A click of handcuffs caused Melanie to realize that she was about to 
be released.  Her bottom was a sheen of wetness now, thanks to the ice.  
When Melanie's hands had been freed she didn't move, nor did any of the 
other girls.  They had been secured to the couch so long that they didn't 
have the will any longer to pull themselves from it.  Aimlessly Melanie 
kicked back a high-heeled foot.  Only then did she realize that her ankles 
were no longer bound to those of Candy or Veronica.  
         "Help them, dears," a female's voice said.  Male hands came to each 
of the initiates and lifted them up.  The girls nearly sank right into the 
stiff pestles of their manly assistants when they rose.  How odd, Melanie 
thought, as she was helped up and sank immediately backward, right onto 
the prong of her helper.  The hair of his loins seemed to burn new patterns 
into the sensitized flesh of her bottom.  She nearly impaled herself by 
accident on him, her bottom wet from the ice, even in its crevice, his wet 
from the new application of some feminine tongue.
         "Shall we go to bed?" A woman asked casually, addressing everyone, 
no one.  There was a rustle of bodies moving closer.  Hands clasped, 
assignations were agreed upon.  Before Melanie knew what was at her she 
was in the arms of a man and woman whom she didn't even recognize.  Or, 
rather, she was between them, being 'helped' along by them across the 
room.  A darkened hallway waited, beckoning with rooms ready for love.  
Melanie darted a look over her shoulder, searching for her little 
stepsister.  Amidst the rapidly disrobing throng she saw two men at 
Veronica, one feasting on her titties, the other bending her forward to get 
his pole up her butt.  But of her other fellow sufferers she saw nothing.
         "Wait!" Melanie cried to her new captors, meaning to break from the 
couple and go search out her sister.
         "The time for waiting is over," the woman who held her replied, and 
her husband gripped Melanie more firmly still. 
Chapter Fifteen

         In a bedroom Melanie was lain upon a bed with utmost tenderness, 
but with an unflinching firmness of purpose as well.  Melanie's long, 
pretty legs dangled over the side of the bed, bowing slightly at the knees 
and touching the floor by their toes.  The woman knelt between her legs.  
She slipped the spaghetti straps of her nightie from her shoulders, baring 
a magnificent set of bosoms.  She slipped her hands beneath Melanie's long 
milky thighs, right where they joined her torso.  Her fingers curled around 
and clasped the insides of Melanie's thighs, drawing them even farther 
apart than they already were.  With whispering tongue she delved into 
Melanie's most private sanctuary.
         "Wait," Melanie said, or perhaps "What."  "What's your name?"  
Through bleary eyes Melanie lifted her pretty head from the bed and 
regarded the woman.  The cool, silken sheets burned into her hot derriere.  
Surely this woman would not, please not, lick her and make her tender 
bottom rub against the sheets!
         The woman's husband was at Melanie's side, slumped on the bed right 
next to her.  His penis throbbed with naked abandon near her hip.  He would 
be next, and however much the woman's tongue made Melanie's sore bottom 
hurt by rubbing against the sheets, his fucking of her would do it tenfold.
         "Winona," the woman smiled at Melanie, then proceeded with her 
licking.  Melanie squirmed, flames engulfing her derriere.
         "Winona," Melanie gasped, and dropped her head in exhaustion back 
upon the bed.  "Winona."  Even as she shaped the name with her mouth she 
knew it must probably be a made-up one.
         "She can't take it," the man said to Winona.  The woman lifted her 
head from Melanie's snatch.  
         "Oh!  You're right!  Her bottom.  How thoughtless of me," Winona said.  
Melanie was rolled over by the couple.  "I should like to lick her, to soothe 
her with my tongue, but that will no doubt hurt too," Winona said aloud to 
herself.  Her husband nodded.  "Push her back some, dear, get her a bit more 
off the bed," Winona instructed her husband.  He obliged.  Melanie felt as if 
she were being put off the bed.  She was moved back upon it until her hips 
were completely off it.  The husband put a firm hand to her back to keep 
her from falling off.  Then Winona went to work again, kneeling way down 
on the floor and getting up under Melanie's airborne hips.  Melanie felt the 
woman's fingers come to her thighs to part them more fully.  Then her 
tongue began its happy labor once more, parting Melanie's pretty lips with 
an ease only a whipping could have induced.  Melanie's bottom wriggled 
madly as Winona's invasive tongue worked deep within her.  The air 
seemed to provide cooling draughts to her heinie as it wiggled about in it.  
Melanie found herself relishing the tongue.  It caused her bottom to squirm 
madly in a way it never would have in her otherwise utterly exhausted 
state.  And each wriggle passed it about in the cool air, soothing it.  
         The husband stroked Melanie's hair lovingly.  She lifted her face 
slightly.  He pressed it back down, beseeching her to relax and speak 
however she wished without incurring the extra effort.  Melanie turned her 
head on its side and let it sink fully into the smooth, soft sheets.  "I-I 
have to go to the bathroom," Melanie said in a small voice.
         "Just go," Winona's husband replied.  "She loves it when girls pee on 
her."  Melanie felt shocked!  Pee on Winona?  Yet it had a mischievous ring 
to it to, of well deserved retribution, something Kimberly might do.  "Do 
you need to go poop too?" Winona's husband asked.  Melanie shook her head 
no, moving it just enough to communicate her answer.  The man leaned 
over her, drew something from the nightstand.  A pouring sound was heard, 
and then a spoonful of medicine came to Melanie's mouth.  No longer 
resistant to anything that might be done to her, Melanie simply opened her 
mouth and accepted the fluid.  It was bitter.  After making a face, though, 
she dutifully swallowed it.  Perhaps it would help with the burning in her 
bottom.
         As he poured a second spoonful the man said, "Castor oil.  To make 
you poop on my wife."  It was then that Melanie knew that her world had 
changed immeasurably since that first ski vacation a year ago.  She prayed 
that it would continue to change, bit by bit, experience by experience.  
And, somehow, she knew that it would.  In her mind's eye she saw herself, 
bizzarely, at an altar in a wedding dress with no bottom to it, leaving her 
free to moon the entire congregation throughout the ceremony.  And, to top 
things off, she had been fed castor oil before the service started, just so 
the congregation could see her bottom squirm throughout the wedding, 
trying desperately to stave off a flood of diarrhea.  Beside her stood Fred, 
his buttocks twitching with just as much desperation.  Before them a 
minister spoke solemn words.  Their marriage, and, unusual as it seemed, 
Melanie had a feeling it would one day come true.
         As she speculated on what Kimberly must wear as her flower girl 
she began to move her hips more.  Holding her shoulders, Winona's husband 
presented his penis to her.  Melanie sucked upon it as she felt the first 
rumblings in her bowels.  In a few days she'd be back in college, in boring 
classes, but for now, she was actually going to enjoy herself.  And she 
was going to do it for the next 20 seconds by emptying her bladder!

                                            THE END