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From: Delta <delta*@bc.sympatico.ca>
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Subject: Delta:  HOTSPRINGS 1/4 (mf, ff, d/s, etc)


Should you wish to comment upon my story, I can be reached by 
E-mail at: 

delta@bc.sympatico.ca 

until late August 1997.  After that comments should be directed 
to alt.sex.stories.d

Comments and critizisms are welcome.

Standard disclaimers:  This is a work of fiction - no character 
within is a depiction of any real person, living or dead.  No 
place or event described within exists outside of the writer's 
imagination.  Copyright retained by the author and this post
is for private use of the reader only.  It is not to be published 
in any form whatsoever, including being made available on BBSs, 
without the express prior consent of author.
     Any readers who are underage in the jurisdiction in which
they reside are asked to please pass by.


Delta.
  
                   HOTSPRINGS
                   Chapter 1

     Jake Saunders glanced again into the rear-view mirror at 
the red Mercedes following them, smiled to himself, then glanced 
again at his wife, Jennie, beside him.  His inner smile faded.
Why was it so hard to explain things to women?
     "You know that I have to go in to the Capital, babe.  You
know it may be for as long as three weeks."  Jake Saunders 
could be patient when he wished and, when it was his wife who 
was concerned, he so wished.  Big Jake, as he was known about 
the area, stood six feet tall in his socks, a muscular man of 
some two hundred pounds who backed down before no man or 
beast, wondered why Jennie couldn't see things logically - like 
a man.  He ran his fingers through his wavy brown hair, 
contemplating how he was going to get through to her without 
upsetting her.
     "And if we get the backing we need for the development,
I'll be away more often than not for the next few months.  You
can't look after everything by yourself."  His expression 
softened, "You know that, babe."  He looked at her, almost
willing her to understand, then returned his eyes to the road.
     The development.  Big Jake had purchased the land which
now comprised Hotsprings Campsite some years ago.  He had had
a dream.  A fool's dream, he had been told, but no one was 
telling him that now.  With water from the hotspring piped
into the large pool, his parcel of land now attracted many
tourists and campers.  Easy access to the neighboring National
park, showers, a laundry, a place to eat, and the hiking trails
simply made Hotsprings Campsite more attractive and more
lucrative.  It was a money maker and Big Jake loved it.  He
loved it for making him money, but more for being the fruit
of his labors, his dream fulfilled.  Now he had a new, enlarged  .  I
was sure of it.  Polly was heedless of her mother’s warnings not to run
about without a training bra on.  (Or, indeed, given her size now, a
real bra.)  The men ran gleefully, without supporters to protect their
balls, their big cocks erect and bouncing up and down like poles that
high-jumpers extend before themselves to jump the high jump.  Except
much thicker, of course.  Yes, much thicker.  I longed to raise myself
up and look.  I was glad Andre had recovered from his whipping between
the mayfair poles, on the dias.  Rose had not hit him hard.  She knew
the value of a nice big pair of balls.  And Andre’s were a special
prize, large enough to make one think of bowling balls, promising loads
of sperm to the females whom he treasured, and who treasured his balls.
         Despite lying with my eyes closed, I could see Polly,
infant-like, running with jiggling bottom cheeks, her fleet legs
unsteady, her head turning back to see how close her beloved pursuers
were.  And, when the men really put their minds to it, they would have
no trouble catching her.  It would be like chasing down a giggly
toddler.  Just as I considered this I heard her yell out with dismay as
she found herself captured.  Up they swept her, her feet kicking, her
arms struggling, hoping to break free.  Her tummy heaved and her breasts
shook, their points woefully hard, for she knew she could not be
captured without punishment.  Such naughty words she’d used in teasing
them!  Laughingly the men carried her off, big men, big as football
linebackers, with poor Polly totally imprisoned now, held, I think, in
Louis’s arms, for she had started by teasing him.
         Oh, how I wanted to see Polly get her just desserts!  I tried
to rouse myself but my legs were still so stiff from Louis doing me, I
could not get up.  I fell asleep again.  In my dreams I replaced Polly
with myself.  Louis and Andre and Branson and even Lurch were all
chasing me, through the trees and round the limo.  At last, to escape
them, but really to let them have me, I dove into the pool.  And, of
course, when I surfaced from my dive I saw all four of them arranged
around the sides of the pool, standing like sentries, watching me. 
Their arms were folded and my watery sanctuary had become my watery
grave.  Their cocks stood out like tree trunks.  Then, like Pinocchio’s
noses, their cocks began growing.  As I paddled in the pool I watched
their cocks grow out, out, out, finally looming over my head as I
hunched down, hoping to avoid them.  And then Louis’s cock rammed
straight into my mouth.  I could not stop him.  He pried my lips apart. 
I was forced to suck upon him.  Then he flexed his cock and I was lifted
up out of the pool, struggling, trying to free my mouth, but there was
no escape for me.
         “Look, I’ve caught a fish!” Louis crowed, and for a moment I
could not tell whether he was speaking of me, caught on the pole of his
cock, or was really speaking, outside my window, with little Polly
wriggling in his arms, hoping to escape him.  
         Rose appeared.  I thought she was real but then realized I was
in my dream again.  “Bring her to my skillet,” she intoned.  “I will
cook her for your supper, men.”  And her skillet was the dias.  I was
tied down to it and my legs spread.  “Yes, a most beautiful specimen of
fish,” Rose said, clinically, inspecting my oyster-lipped cunt.  “Most
difficult to catch, except for expert fishermen like yourselves, of
course,” she added, eyeing Louis and Andre.
         “Oh, it is not difficult for us,” Louis said, diffidently,
sitting nude at the table in the sunroom now, tying a napkin under his
chin.  “We catch a new one every day.”  
         “Hurry up, I’m hungry,” Andre urged.  He banged his knife and
fork down on the table.  Underneath it his big prick wriggled
impatiently.  Then Polly shot past, outside, timing herself by Lurch’s
watch as she ran around the castle.  I followed her somehow and found
that we had to stop and jump through the hopscotch squares at the front
of the castle before we could run around it again.  Our tits leapt and
swung as we played hopscotch, our scissoring legs showing off our mounds
without shame.  Cars appeared on the desolate road beyond the castle and
watched us through its gate with X-Ray eyes.
         “Hi,” I heard.  A nose nuzzled mine.  Cheyenne.  I blinked away
my sleep and saw her lying beside me, her face pressed close.  
         “Hi,” I replied, smiling.  We kissed.  Our mouths were sweet. 
We kissed again.  Her hand, which had lain protectively over my waist,
passed down to my bottom and palmed it.  I let her feel me.  I spread my
legs a little to invite her explorations.  We kissed a third time.  She
slipped a finger between my legs and sought my spot.  I kept my legs
splayed apart and we kissed again as she found me and delicately touched
me in my special place.
         We did not hear the creeping of footsteps.  Suddenly, with no
warning, our bedcovers were unfurled.  We were exposed, fish gasping and
wriggling on a dock.  Rose stood over us, poking her head through the
canopy of my bed.  She’d unveiled our naughtiness.
         “Girls!” Rose said.  “Are there so few men in my castle that
you must entertain each other?  All by yourselves?”
         “We were just playing,” Cheyenne explained.  We tensed our
heinies, worried she might slap us.  Instead she turned her attention to
me.  She ran both her hands over my bottom, pressed them into my newly
whitened flesh.  
         “Good,” Rose said.  “You have a nice, cream-white bottom again,
Fleury.  And yours is nice too, Cheyenne,” she added, for my girlfriend
seemed put out that she was not included in Rose’s inspection.  Rose
vented my cheeks and examined my hole.  “Ah, how snug and tight you are,
Fleury, despite the best efforts of some to enlarge you there.  Someday
we will have to make you bigger.  There is no question about that.  I
have a little leather belt.  It looks like an ordinary belt but there
are three chains that loop down and connect themselves under it.  Sort
of like panties, except without the connecting bits of cloth.  Just the
skeleton, as it were, made of small chains.  And within the back chain
there is a brass ring.  It fits right over the anus.  I’ll put you in
those little panties someday.  And when you’ve got them on, of course,
we can then begin to widen you.  There are a selection of shafts that
come with the panties.  Each day we will plug a new one through the
brass ring and, doing that, send it right up your anus.  You’ll wear the
panties all day, plugged up your ass.  You’ll walk around the castle,
doing what you’re told, or as you like, but of course everyone will see
that you’re in training, because you’ll just wear the little chain
panties, and nothing else.  I’ll want you to stay out of the sun since I
like girl’s bottoms white.  Perhaps you can drape a little towel over
your tushy if you lie out in the sun.  Just like I’d expect you to do
now.  To keep your ass white, so when it’s whipped we can see all the
stripes.”
         “It sounds...captivating,” I answered.  My speech slurred
because I was still a little sleepy, and her words had induced a kind of
prisoner-like listlessness in me.  She pried my cheeks harder apart and
leaned down and let her breasts tumble out of her low cut, ruffled
peasant gown.  She blew softly into my hiney hole.  
         “So sweet,” she said, Cheyenne watching her inspection of me
with a little envy, I think, in her eyes.  We both liked being the
center of attention, even if it meant showing off our fannies.  Rose
lifted one of her big gourd-like breasts, heavy like a gourd but round
like a grapefruit, and kissed and licked her nipple, preparing it, but
for what?  Then I knew.  She let her breast drop into my bottomfurrow
and she stabbed my hole with her hard nipple.
         “Oh!” I cried.  I had not expected it.  Fiercely she jabbed me
with her nipple but I had little trouble taking it, for it was just a
woman’s nipple, nothing more.  
         “Ah, if only I had a cock,” Rose sighed.  “I would ream you to
the other end of South America and back, my dear.”  She stood, lifting
herself and taking her tit with her.  She upped her dress and I saw she
wore no panties beneath.  “But instead I’m stuck with this useless
pussy.  Utterly useless for what I’d like to do with it sometimes.  Look
at me!  Nothing, just a mount of dark hair and my twin lips beneath, as
if God felt the lips on my face wouldn’t be enough for me, and had to
give me a second pair.  So I’ve got nothing, just a belly, two pair of
lips, and my tits, of course, sticking out when I walk down the street
like balloons and making everyone think I’m a bimbo.”  She sighed
again.  She lowered her dress and put her breasts back inside it.  She
straightened it.
         “Get up and get ready for dinner, girls,” Rose said.  “We’re
going to have fun tonight!  Don’t wear anything.  Just come as you are,
but see that your hair and your nails are perfect.  Absolutely
perfect.”  She withdrew her head from the canopy, walked to the door. 
“No playing in the tub!” she warned.  “Be good girls.  I’m serious.  I
want you both on tenterhooks when you come downstairs, not exhausted
because you’ve spent the last hour frigging each other to death in the
bathroom.”
         “Yes, ma’am,” Cheyenne and I answered.  Our voices were
musical.  We sounded like small girls at a slumber party, waiting for
mom to leave so we could discuss the finer aspects of boys.

         We came downstairs an hour later.  Rose led us into the
ballroom, a room we’d not dined in before.  It was huge and had
chandeliers in it, six in all, built of crystal and hanging from the
ceiling, sprinkling their light down on us.  I saw a score of people,
men and women, elegantly dressed, but Cheyenne and I, like singing
telegram girls, were quite nude, except that I’d tied ribbons in my hair
and so had she, to make ourselves extra pretty.  
         Polly was there.  Rose had turned her so that her bottom stuck
out and she was leaning forward over a table.  Rose beckoned us.  To my
surprise I saw Polly’s bottom was white.  Whatever Louis and Andre had
done to her, they had not whipped her.  The day, I realized, had been
cloudy.  She had been able to run around naked and yet keep her bottom
preserved in the state Rose preferred it in.  Polly was festooned with
ribbons like Cheyenne and I.  In addition to decorating her hair they
were tied round her upper arms, and again round her thighs, mid-way,
tied off in little bows with streamers dangling down to her elbows and
knees.  She was exceptionally delightful to look at.  Rose told me that
Polly was to be served for dessert.  Indeed, all three of us were, and
we were to decorate ourselves for the crowd, as they watched.  They had
already begun their meal.  I wondered when Polly and Cheyenne and I
would eat but I did not ask.
         Rose handed me a cannister of whipped cream.  “Decorate Polly,
would you, Fleury?  Be still, Polly.  It is only whipped cream.”  Polly
looked over her shoulder, like a child ignorant but wanting to know, and
not sure it liked the answer.  Gracefully I took the whipped cream.  I
wanted to appear as ladylike as I could, despite my nudity.  I aimed the
cannister carefully and, at Rose’s direction, I carefully shot a line of
whipped cream down Polly’s ass crack.  “Don’t wiggle, Polly, I want the
line to be perfect,” Rose scolded.  Polly moved her hips once but I
anticipated her movement and was able to keep my line of cream
straight.  
         As I squirted Polly’s asscrack, Bambi, who wore a tight corset,
met Cheyenne and drew her aside.  “More guests will be coming soon.  You
must serve them their appetizer,” Bambi told her.  I could not study
Bambi, but I caught a glimpse of her and saw that she wore a corset that
plumped up her breasts and left them free, despite its tightness around
her middle.  Atop the mounds of her nude breasts her skin was all wet
and there were bits of stray fruit lying atop them.  I realized,
somehow, that Bambi had used her own bosoms as a serving tray.  She’d
placed (or perhaps Rose had done it) bits of fruit atop her uplifted
breasts.  Then she’d gone from guest to guest and served them this way,
offering them her breasts, atop which was the fruit which they were
invited to pluck from her with just their mouths.  Now it was Cheyenne’s
turn, and she shivered a little as Bambi suited her up.  Polly,
meanwhile, was to be the official dessert.  She would be made modest,
perversely, by having whipped cream squirted over all her private
places.  Then she would be served this way, and the guests would lick
her clean, making her immodest again, and titillating her and themselves
in the process.  I realized all this in a rush, squirting the whipped
cream carefully down the indrawn line of Polly’s bottom crack.
         Rose turned Polly around.  The girl looked down at herself as
Rose forced her to jut her hips out at me.  Her little cunt made a
perfect target.  
         “Ooooh, Polly, how indecent you are!  Let me cover you up a
little,” I offered.
         “Noooo,” Polly whined, but I squirted her nonetheless. 
Icing-like the whipped cream spritzed into the hairs of her pubic
mound.  Then, coating her thoroughly there, I moved down, parted her
legs and squirted her cunny lips and then continued my line back until
it met up with the line of cream I’d drawn down her buttcrack.  I did
not bother to give her cream bikini drawstrings.  
         “Now for your nipples,” I said.  I stood and placed the nozzle
of the whipped cream close to her nearest tit.  She was trembling.  I
had to cup her breast from beneath to hold her wobbling tittie.  Then I
squirted her nipple, as she gritted her teeth against the cold of the
refrigerated cream and begged me to stop.
         Next I did Polly’s other nipple.  I did not bother to give her
bra cups, just the nipples was enough.  No decorative drawstring
either.  But, raising my can, I traced a little cream collar round the
front of her throat.  Just above her real collar.  It looked nice.  She
looked sweet.  I kissed her blushing cheeks and told her so.
         “Oh, can I wipe it off now?” Polly asked, stroking her tummy
and threatening to dip it into the cream that decorated her pubis.
         “Why Polly, we just got you properly dressed for the party and
you want to get naked already?” Rose teased.  “Be a good girl and go
show off your cream bikini to the guests.  I wonder if you’d be allowed
on a beach now, since we can’t see your privates anymore?  Of course,
you mustn’t get your bikini wet.  That would truly be a no-no,” Rose
laughed.  She was clothed in a beautiful red gown that moulded itself to
her figure like a glove.  It was cut off at the knees, seductively
showing her calves, I thought.  In front her gown dipped so low her
nipples showed.  Just the top halves, the pronging tips barely below the
hem.  It constricted her breasts a little so that her nipples’ tips
would stay concealed.  But I knew if she moved incautiously she’d find
herself displaying her teats right out to the tips.  
         Bambi was inventive.  Having tied up Cheyenne in a breathlessly
tight corset, she made the girl perch her bare ass on a table and she
fitted the girl into ankle-high boots.  Then, finishing that, she did
not release her.  Instead she made her stand and then bent her over. 
Cheyenne grimaced as the tautly-laced corset creaked and bit into her
already trim waistline, compressing her slim tummy even more.  When
Cheyenne was bent double, her fingers brushing her toes, Bambi parted
her legs, giving her a wider stance.  Cheyenne looked ready to keel over
and Rose rushed to hold her.  She cupped her hands beneath the girl’s
face and stroked her hair.  She watched with approval as Bambi took an
oil funnel, the same type used in gas stations, but brand new and clean,
and poked it into Cheyenne’s tight bottom.
         “You must experience submission, Cheyenne,” Rose said softly to
the girl, in a reassuring voice, letting her know she approved of all
the new tricks Bambi was thinking up.  Rose tossed her hair back over
her shoulder, carelessly, and one of her hemmed in nipples managed to
break free of her low cut bodice.  Cheyenne, meanwhile, had no such
protection for her breasts.  The corset stopped short of containing them
and merely pushed them upward, so that they could be used as wiggling
nude platforms for fruit.
         Polly stood beside me, a hand on my shoulder, a finger in her
mouth.  She sucked on it speculatively, watching, as I did, as Bambi
took a small bottle of liquor and popped its cork.  Carefully Bambi took
hold of the oil funnel which, in the interim, Rose had been holding in
place.  Its neck was most indelicately stuck within Cheyenne’s
butthole.  The girl shivered, waiting, first while the cork on the
liquor was popped and then as Bambi took back possession of the funnel. 
Now all of us watched as Bambi slowly began pouring the liquor into
Cheyenne’s ass.
         GLUG GLUG GLUG could be heard in the room.  The guests had
ceased eating.  We all watched with fascinated eyes.  Cheyenne gasped as
she felt the liquor run from the funnel straight into her hiney.  
         “I-I don’t want tooo,” Cheyenne offered, but her protest was
ignored as more liquor gurgled its way down the oil funnel and into her
upthrust tushy.  Cheyenne’s eyes widened, glazed, widened again.  I know
she must have been feeling the effects of the liquor as it communicated
its potency through the walls of her rectum and up to her head.  The
fluid remained in her bowels, like liquor in the tummy, but the effects
of it could be felt in her brain.  
         “Alright, now stand up,” Bambi ordered when the bottle was
empty.  Cheyenne stood.  She wobbled a bit on her feet but then came to
herself.  She was a little drunk, but still quite aware that she was
nude, in just a corset and booties, in a roomful of strangers.  Rose
took fruit from the table and, with Bambi’s help, the two of them
sprinkled it over Cheyenne’s breasts.  Meanwhile, the girl was jamming
her asscheeks together, striving her best to contain the fluid in her
bowels.  As soon as Rose and Bambi were done decorating her they
launched her into the crowd.
         “Go, serve them, but don’t lose your enema,” Rose and Bambi
told poor Cheyenne.  In the back of the room more guests entered, seated
themselves, and Cheyenne walked with wavering half-steps toward them. 
So far she was keeping her enema inside her.  I crossed my fingers and
prayed for her.  How embarrassing it would be for her to spill it right
out there amidst all the new diners.  
         “Now for Polly,” Rose said.
         “Oh, pwease!” Polly begged.  But I pushed her over to them and
they upended her just as ruthlessly.  Her jamming asscheeks were pried
apart.  Rose handed Bambi a small china plate piled high with slit
grapes and chocolate bon bons and pitted cherries.
         “Help me, Fleury,” Bambi told me.  Unsure of my own fate, I
squatted behind Polly and took hold of her asscheeks and pulled them
wide apart to allow Bambi to stuff her butthole with the fruit.  
         “You’ll make a most scrumptious dessert,” Rose assured Polly. 
The girl shuddered and sighed but, curiously, did not fight us.  I think
we were all excited by the prospect of intermingling with all the
handsome men in the crowd.  They wore dark suits and ate with beautiful
women beside them, yet their eyes were upon us mostly, absorbing our
every movement, unsure when or if they’d get another chance to see such
young females being put through such horrid ordeals.
         Cheyenne gave a heart rending cry as a woman she presented her
breastful of fruit to chose to tickle her cunny as she mouthed fruit
from her tits.  
         “I can’t hold it if you do that, ma’am!” Cheyenne begged.  She
was standing with her legs apart, but her ass jammed together in back,
desperately trying to hold in her enema.  She wanted to cross her legs
but that was, of course, quite forbidden.  At the castle one of the
first rules we’d been taught was to never cross our legs.  Cheyenne
screamed a little scream as the women kept on tickling her.  The woman
cared not the least about Cheyenne.  She simply wished to entertain
herself.
         As I watched, my bed mate found herself unable to hold in her
liquor under the relentless assault.  There was a sudden cry of
surrender from her.  Shivering right down her spine to her toes, her ass
cheeks tremored and released their load.  A shower of shit-colored
liquor burst from Cheyenne’s hiney and spilled all down the backs of her
thighs and into her boots.
         “Noooo,” Cheyenne cried out remorsefully, for she and I had
spent so much time getting ready upstairs, doing each other’s makeup,
hair, carefully making ourselves perfect, and now she was spoilt,
nothing but a girl with diarrhea.
         “How unpleasant,” the woman who’d been tickling her sniffed. 
“Go serve the others.”  Cheyenne walked miserably to the other guests
and let them mouth fruit from her breasts in turn.  When she reached the
last one, a woman, the lady took her over her knee and began slapping
her bare ass with her hand, which was gloved in kid leather.  Cheyenne,
formerly just runny at her rear, was now forced to offer up tears as
well.
         Shivering at her fate, listening as she bawled, I turned my
eyes back to Polly’s bottom.  Bambi was busily filling it up with all
the fruit on the tray.
         “Oh, it’s too much!  It’s going too far up!” Polly whined.
         “Be still, Polly!” Rose ordered.  The girl waved her bottom
about but I kept a firm grip on it and kept her cheeks apart.  She was
not as resistant as in the past.  I think the castle was slowly breaking
her in, changing her from a little crybaby into a woman.  Bambi pushed
fruit after fruit through her layer and cream and into her hole.  There
was a little gap in my handiwork now, where I’d squirted her buttcrack
with the cream.  Like a chipmunk storing food away for the winter, Bambi
relentlessly kept plugging Polly’s bottom with more and more fruit.  And
the bon-bons also, which had gone up first because they would melt
within her body, while the fruit would have to be removed by human
intervention, unless we were simply willing to wait for Polly’s next
poop, which I knew we were not.
         When Polly was quite full behind, Rose stood her up.  She
turned the girl around.  I was told to pull Polly’s thighs apart in
front and I obeyed.  Rose handed Bambi a long banana.  Polly watched
wide-eyed, me keeping her legs open, as Bambi peeled the banana.  Then
Bambi bent down and intruded it into Polly’s pussy.
         “Oh, I can’t TAKE anymore!” Polly hollered, for she was already
quite full in back and the banana would plug her quite completely,
filling her up for dessert-time.
         “You must, Polly,” Rose replied.  She gripped the girl’s bare
shoulders and made her watch as Bambi eased the banana up her, going
slowly so as not to hurt her.  It possessed an exemplary length.  Polly
would be well-fucked, by nature, if Bambi succeeded in getting all of
the banana up her.  
         As it turned out, most of the banana made it inside.  But a
little protruded out, its white tip looking like a little penis.  Polly
touched it.
         “I have a penis!” Polly said.
         “So you do,” Rose laughed.  “I wish I had one, even a little
banana one like you do,” Rose admitted.  She looked at me.  I remembered
our conversation in the bedroom.  I smiled.  I let go of Polly’s legs.
         “Go show off your new penis, Polly,” Rose told the girl.  She
pushed her toward the guests.  They watched, bemused, as this slip of a
girl, just 13, came tip-toeing toward them, her feet bare, wearing a
seductive cream bikini.  In front, she offered them a boyish view of a
banana cock, while in back she had to keep her asscheeks together lest
the fruit stuffed into her begin popping out.
         “Mmm, let me lick your little penis,” a woman said to Polly. 
She reached out and grasped the girl by her hips.  She drew Polly toward
her.  Bending her face down, she tongued Polly’s banana just as she
would a cock.  A little boy’s cock it would have to have been, for Polly
showed only the tip of the banana, the rest jammed up inside her.
         “Ohhhh,” Polly moaned.  I thought it must have been exquisite
for her to be presented this way.  The woman’s tongue, confining itself
to her banana, did not touch her directly.  Polly sleeked a hand across
her tummy and I knew she wanted to touch herself.  But she did not.  She
let the woman lick her banana, the husband watching, other guests eyeing
her from all around, savoring their dessert, waiting politely for their
turn at her.
         Cheyenne howled and was let up by the woman who’d been paddling
her fanny.  She stood sobbing, holding her asscheeks with her hands, and
the woman reproved her for making a mess of herself.
         “Oh, I’m sorry!” Cheyenne moaned, but of course it wasn’t her
fault, even though the woman told her it was.  A man took the poor girl
and toppled her over his knees and began spanking her.
         “Boo!  Hoo!  Hoo!” Cheyenne cried, but there was no stopping
her spanking.  How rude to spank her again, I thought, but Rose took
hold of me and turned me toward her.  I drew in my breath expectantly
and felt my bosoms rise on my chest.
         “Oh, please don’t make me do this,” I pleaded.
         “Shush, dear, it is nothing.  A little playing, that’s all,”
Rose replied.  She squirted my nipples with chocolate syrup.  All the
work I’d done upstairs to make myself look my best, and now I was being
used as a scoop of ice cream might be, my breasts decorated with syrup
that made me instantly, if seductively, messy.
         Rose squirted chocolate syrup into my navel.  I giggled.  Then
she lowered her bottle to my pussy.  She looked at my eyes.
         “Ready?” she asked, standing before me, I her disciple. 
         “No, but--” I began.  Smiling, I looked down and watched with
bashful eyes as she squirted chocolate syrup right into my pretty nest. 
“Oh!” I exclaimed.  How naughty I felt.  How my mother would
disapprove!  Rose decorated me like one might a cake, making my nest all
chocolaty and then moving down to do the same to my cunt.
         “Now, turn around,” she told me.
         “Oh, Rose!  You must NOT!” I giggled, almost beside myself at
the prospect of what she was going to do to me.  Yet I let her, with the
help of Bambi, turn me around.  Bambi bent me forward a little so that I
presented Rose with my ass.
         “Many call it the ‘chocolate chute,’ so...” Rose said.  She let
her voice trail off as she poked the tip of the syrup bottle into my
hineyhole.  
         “Oh please Rose, not back there,” I asked one last time, but in
answer I felt my guts get a jet of chocolate right up them.  Rose
laughed.  The crowd, watching, laughed.  Rose squeezed the bottle again
and more chocolate jetted up my ass.  I heard a man smack his lips. 
Either what he was eating was very good, or he was anticipating me.  It
was the latter, I knew.  In the distance Cheyenne howled.  There was no
stopping her spankings.  Each diner seemed to want to have a crack at
her now.  I guessed she’d not be sitting at dinner, that was for sure,
whenever we finally got to eat, instead of just being eaten.  Polly, I
saw, turning my head, was having her banana cock nibbled away.  There
was nothing left but her slit now, the extruded portion of banana was
gone, eaten up.  Inside, though, I knew she carried the remainder, and
now the guests would begin the more invasive job of mouthing that out of
her.
         “There!  You’re a chocolate bunny!” Rose said.  She was
finished shooting up my bottomhole with syrup.  I felt quite full in
back.  Mercilessly she pushed me toward the crowd.  My turn.  Where were
Louis and Andre?  I could not find them.  I was alone, with only Rose to
protect me, but she had just violated me.  Polly whined as a hungry
woman gnawed at her pussy.  I heard a little grape pop out of her and
bounce off the tiled floor.           
         I wandered up to the first guest.  “Do you like chocolate?” I
asked her.  Her husband grinned and she let him have me.  He turned me
around and bent me over and stuck his tongue rudely into my hiney.
         “Oh, sir!  You DO like chocolate!” I cried.  For answer he
raped me with his tongue.
         When we were quite despoiled, and all our fruit and cream and
syrup dug and licked out of us, were were put side-by-side on a table. 
Our backs were laid on the tablecloth, with linen napkins piled under
our heads to give us a little comfort.  But our hips were left to dangle
off the table.  Each man who wished to was fitted with a condom and
brought to stand between our legs and fuck us.  As we were fucked, Rose
fed us our dinner.  Baby food, so that in our crying and gasping we
would not choke on our food as the men fucked us.  Then we were taken
upstairs, bathed, and put to bed, all three of us in my room.  As I
drifted off into an exhausted sleep I could hear the party continuing
downstairs.  I think Louis and Andre entered then, and were the delight
of the dinner’s wee hours.  They demonstrated their manly spirit upon
the women, their husbands being all spent, just watching, as bull-like
Louis and Andre fucked each of the women in the room.  Their cries and
moans emanated upstairs, putting me to sleep.
         In the morning I was the first to awaken.  I slipped into my
bathroom and freshened myself.  As I returned to my bed I found Cheyenne
and Polly waking up.  Polly scooted herself off my bed as soon as she
was conscious and ran to the bathroom, like a little girl, to pee. 
Cheyenne, a bit older, smiled at me, and excused herself.  When Polly
was done peeing I heard Cheyenne remind her to flush the toilet.  Then
Cheyenne took her turn upon it.
         As the girls freshened themselves I looked with renewed
interest at the pole behind my bed.  I got on my bed and, kneeling at
the headboard, I unhooked it from the wall.  I lifted its heavy length
and locked it into place.  Then I stood up.  I put my mouth to the soft
rubber ball that angled up from it, mounted on a second post.  I felt
the ball fill my mouth.  I pressed my face hard against it, so that I
could hardly breathe.  I concentrated on inhaling through my nostrils
and, at the same time, I reached behind myself and opened the cheeks of
my bottom.
         I hand at the canopy of my bed.  Turning my head, I thought it
was just Cheyenne, or Polly.  To my heartbeating surprise, I saw it was
Louis!  He put a finger to my back and ran it down my spine.  He
continued on to my bottom.  He poked inbetween my cleft cheeks and
touched my hole.
         “I hear you got quite a licking back here last night,” Louis
said to me.
         “Yeth,” I mouthed over the ball.  He lifted my arms up.  He
locked them to the back of my collar.  He fastened my collar to the
front of the post.  He positioned my legs wider apart on the bed.  My
bare feet planted themselves firmly and I waited while he undid his
trousers, freeing his cock, then his belt.
         Polly interrupted us.  With a finger at her lips she asked,
with inquiring eyes, “Oh, Fleury!  What are you doing?  I thought you
were going to come play with us in the tub!”
         I heard Cheyenne drawing the bath water.
         “In a minute,” I said.  I watched as Louis doubled his belt.
         “Go take your bath,” Louis told Polly.
         “Yes, sir,” Polly gulped.  And she saluted him, dear girl. 
Then she scurried out of sight.
         I tensed my cheeks.  They felt so cool and white and normal in
the morning air.  Did I really want Louis to turn them into a ball of
flame?  I don’t know.  I watched with my eyes as his tantalizing cock
swayed out of view as he got up on the bed behind me.  I could not see
him now.  I switched my eyes to a mirror, placed strategically so a girl
could watch her tormenter and learn to love him.  Louis’ cock dangled
from his loins like a snake poised to strike.  He ran his fingers across
his cock and then over his doubled-up belt.  I think we were both tense
now, he and I.  His erection showed no sign of abating until a female
had been sacrificed to it.  And I wished for no other to take my place. 
If he needed me, I would be there for him.  I curved my back inward,
letting my bottomcheeks hang more impudently, more seductively.  Saucily
I wiggled my tail.  I was glad my hands were locked behind me.  As I saw
him raise his belt I know I would have covered myself in back.  I was
glad my mouth was plugged.  I could not have kept from crying out for
him to spare me.
         “Louis, Fleury dear,” Rose interrupted suddenly.  Where had she
come from?  She should not be here.  This was our private moment
together.  She put her head through the bed’s canopy and stayed Louis’s
hand just as it was about to come swooping down most mercilessly on my
bottom.  “Louis, there’s a young lady here to see you,” Rose told him. 
She spoke with amusement in her voice, as if enjoying interrupting us.
         “Damn,” Louis swore.  “I’d forgotten.”  He dropped his belt
uselessly on the bed.  He leaned forward, kissed my nearest shoulder, as
if I were just his niece, he my uncle.  Or worse, as if he were my
father, and I his daughter.  Two souls who could never reach out and
enjoy each other in the intimate way lovers do.  “I’ll be back in the
morning,” he told me.  Then he stuffed himself back into his pants,
somehow, and looped his belt back into his pants.  He left.  Delicately
Rose undid me from the post.  I felt empty, somehow, as I slumped down
onto the sheets of the bed.
         “Go take your bath, dear,” Rose said consolingly to me.  I got
up and walked in my nudity to the bathroom.  Going inside, I met
Cheyenne and Polly.  Cheyenne was watching Polly as the blonde sailed a
boat quite merrily through the foam laden waters.
         “Come in, Fleury!  All done?  I’m exploring SudLand!” Polly
chortled.  She seemed perfectly content with her boat.  Reluctantly I
joined them.

         We spent the day sunning ourselves.  We were careful to keep
our bottoms and tits covered to keep Rose happy.  She watched over us,
me especially.  We played dominoes, twister, monopoly, all in the nude. 
We swam in the pools, wearing our bikinis for that to preserve the
distinction between our covered and uncovered places.  We ended the day
sucking popsicles and eating an early meal.  Then we turned in, each to
our own beds to keep us from being mischievous.
         “Get up!” Rose urged me the following morning.  I was not
permitted to bathe, but there was no real need for it.  I’d taken a bath
the night before, was still feeling fresh.  She did up my hair with pins
so that I wore it in a loose coiffure.  Then she brought me downstairs.
         Out back in the sunroom Polly and Cheyenne were busy tugging on
thick socks and leather hiking shoes.  I was made to sit down on a step
with them and do the same.  When we each stood, we were made to put on
backpacks.  We wore nothing else.
         “I feel like a pack horse,” I said, struggling into my
backpack.
         “Andre and Louis are taking us hiking!” Polly said gleefully.
         “Louis?  Is he back?” Rose nodded.  I smiled.
         “What’s in this thing?” Cheyenne asked.  Her backpack was
especially bulky.  Her bosoms were squished a little by its padded
straps.
         “Yours is an insulated cooler, carrying three bottles of wine,
plus glasses, two of them, for Louis and Andre,” Rose told her.
         “What will I drink out of, then?” Cheyenne asked, squeezing her
bottom cheeks as she contemplated an opening in herself that she did not
want to use for drinking.
         “Why, you’ll just have to share with the men, if they let you,”
Rose replied.  If they let us?  I wondered at that.  I looked down at my
shoes and felt I might, indeed, be just a pack horse.  
         “What’s in mine?” I asked.  I gripped the straps and squared
the weight against myself to carry it better.
         “Pillows for the men to sit on, a tablecloth, two sandwiches I
packed for them, plus some fruit,” Rose told me.
         “How about mine?” Polly chirped.  She looked like she expected
to be told hers carried toys.  It did, of a sort, but not the kind she
was thinking of.  No colored chalk, or bathtub boast.
         “Whips,” Rose answered.  She turned her head.  Louis and Andre,
clad in hunter’s gear, but carrying nothing, came into the sunroom.
         “Alright, I see the girls are ready,” Andre grinned.
         “Let’s go, girls, I’m hungry!” Louis said, and walked past us,
as if we were indeed horses, albeit pretty ones.  Shouldering our
backpacks, we followed them.  We stepped out into the open air and felt
the breeze upon our faces.  And our tushies.  We were totally nude, we
three girls, except for our hiking shoes.  
         “Have fun, and don’t worry about screaming, girls,” Rose called
after us from the sunroom.  “They’ll take you where no one can hear!”
         With that send-off we walked most apprehensively behind Louis
and Andre.  They led us out into the fields, past the worker’s huts, on
toward a distant mountain.  I saw a jeep waiting at the end of the
field.  Louis and Andre put us into it.  We were allowed to take off our
backpacks and throw them in back.  Then we got into the backseat and
strapped ourselves in.  The seat was leather.  We were offered nothing
to sit on except the bare seat itself.  The men strapped us in with
seatbelts so that we wouldn’t fall out.  Then, getting in front, they
drove off with us jostling in the back.
         We drove up the mountain.  It was a jaunty, butt-thumping ride
that took little cognizance of the fact that Cheyenne and Polly and I
were girls.  We drove through indian villages, our breasts showing,
bouncing helplessly, as natives came outdoors and grinned at our
passing.  Did they practise the same ritual, taking their girls into the
mountains?
         When Louis finally stopped the jeep we got out.  He and Andre
made us reshoulder our backpacks.  Then, forcing us to lead the way up a
small dirt path, they followed.  They admired our bottoms as we walked. 
We were feeling a bit more like pack horses with every step, clad only
in our shoes, as if shoed like horses, carrying loads not intended for
our amusement but only for that of our masters.  Cheyenne and Polly and
I huffed and puffed under our loads, climbing steadily, while the men
behind us carried nothing.  My breasts swung beneath me.  I wished for a
bra but had none.  I wished for panties to keep the men’s leering eyes
off my bottom but, out here, the nearest pair of panties must have been
50 miles away.
         The mountain was bare.  There were only rocks and crags, plus
fields of daisies, all bright and glowing under the warm summer sun.  I
felt bereft, though, carrying so much weight.  Was this, I wondered,
what it felt like to be pregnant?  Obviously the weight would be in my
tummy when I was with child but, nonetheless, I’d be carrying my
husband’s future child, bearing up under the strain, while he,
naturally, carried nothing heavier than his own erection.
         We walked higher into the rocky waste.  The wind was mercifully
quiet.  It was as if God had set aside this special day for us and,
knowing what Polly was forced to carry in her pack, he had calmed the
winds to give us respite from them at least.  I thought of horses out
West, in America, with the men walking behind them, wondering at their
asses, wondering if they might, just might...
         I could feel Louis’s eyes burning into my bottom.  It hung like
a white cloven marshmallow above my bare tanned legs.  How close we’d
come, yesterday, to consummating our love for each other with another
punishment.  And now, with my bottom quite naked, and Polly loaded down
with whips, there was no chance of me being spared again.  None of us, I
thought, would escape down the mountain with our bottoms still white.  
         In front my snowy tits jangled in their fullness beneath me.  I
panted and hefted my backpack higher on my back.
         “Here,” Louis said.  He pointed to a small grassy clearing
amidst the daisies.  There was a sturdy log in the middle of the
clearing.  I wondered at it, bit my lip.
         We were led to the clearing and allowed to put down our packs. 
Their packs, for their contents were picked by Louis and Andre, and
brought for their own pleasure.  The men made us squat and undo the
packs and lay out their contents.  Cheyenne and I unfurled a tablecloth
for the men to sit on.  Three pillows were drawn from my pack, and
placed, at the men’s orders, atop the log, in a neat row that boded ill
for our bottoms.  The men sat down on the blanket and had us girls sit
amongst them.  Polly with fear in her eyes, was made to arrange all the
whips from her pack in a neat row on the blanket.  They were awful,
absolutely the worst.  Rattans braised in a fire to make their tips hard
and tough.  A cat with jewels worked into the ends of each of its tails,
glittering, beautiful, but promising to flay a girl alive if its beauty
was used on her.  A pony whip, used to drive horses, brought out and
laid with care amongst the other whips despite our obedience.
         “Oh, I don’t wish to be whipped!” Polly moaned.  
         “Then drink.  It’s why we brought the wine,” Louis told her. 
He made her take a sip from his glass.  Cheyenne, who had never been
touched by a whip, sat with frightened eyes looking at the implements,
with her palms firmly beneath her seat, afraid to let it touch even the
blanket, lest she somehow be harmed by it.
         I tried to be brave.  Yes, we were alone.  Yes, no one could
possibly come to our aid.  But Louis and Andre were our favorite guys. 
Surely they would not harm us.  What, though, had Louis been called away
for, yesterday?  Did he still love me?  Did he--my breath caught in my
throat--did he need to dispose of me?  High on this mountaintop no one
would know if he did.  Only the natives, and they did not share the
mountain’s secrets with outsiders.  Only with Rose perhaps, but she
never asked, merely paid them to use the mountain sometimes, for her own
purposes.  As today, paying to let Louis and Andre drive myself and
Polly and Cheyenne up here.  Did the natives use this same clearing for
their girls?  I thought the grass was especially lush here.  Surely
daisies might have grown here, yet they did not.  Someone had kept them
back, to allow the grass to grow.  And that log.  Had it not seemed a
little worn, where we’d placed our pillows.  Three little depressions,
worn, perhaps, into the wood by struggling Indian girls who had only
woven blankets underneath their tummies?  We were special.  We had
pillows, gleaming whitely in their pillow cases.  Yet our fate, I
guessed, would be no different from that of the Indian girls.
         Clutching our bottoms, we each took sips from Louis’s or
Andre’s wine goblets.  Little was said, save for the occasional
simperings of Polly.  But even she seemed to accept her fate, finally. 
The sun shown down as the men ate their sandwiches, offering us none,
admiring our bare brown-limbed bodies.  Polly asked to pee and they led
her to the edge of the clearing and squatted down and relieved herself
in the lush grass.  I took the same opportunity.  There was no fighting
it.  Once put over the logs, we might be kept there for hours.  Cheyenne
went after me.  
         “It is time,” Louis said, after we were done and we’d wiped
ourselves as best we could with handkerchiefs and moist towelettes.  We
were taken to the log.  Our hands were cuffed in front of us, to keep
them away from our bottoms, though we might frig ourselves, if we
wished.  Louis and Andre told us we could if we needed to.  It would
make it easier for us, they said.  Then Cheyenne, and Polly and I, their
faithful pack horses, were made to kneel in front of the log, as if to
receive communion before it.  They did not serve us wafers and wine,
though, but instead bent us over it.  I felt the softness of the pillow
receive my tummy.  I felt my head pressed down on the far side of the
log until my cheek met the lush grass.
         “Oh, please don’t, Louis,” I begged.
         “Spread your legs,” was all he said in reply.  His hands came
between my thighs and opened them.  I felt the sun on my hiney.  How
carefully I’d protected it from the sun’s rays, yet now here I was,
white-bottomed, with nothing covering me.  And Rose would not disapprove
now, would she?  No.  Nothing must come between a girl’s bottom and the
whip. 
         Polly whimpered.
         “I’m not going to give you a gag,” Louis told her.  I want to
hear you scream.  Scream as much as you like.  
         “I have to... I have to go to the bathroom again,” Polly
claimed.  The men fixed leather straps into the wood and bound them over
the small of our backs.  We were truly imprisoned now.  
         “You don’t have to go to the bathroom, Polly, you’re just
saying that,” Cheyenne scolded.  Perhaps she was trying to distract
herself from the inevitable.  Her voice was shaky, unsure, but she
scolded Polly anyway.
         “I do too!  Very badly,” Polly said, but immediately began
crying in soft sobs of fear.
         “Then just hold it,” Cheyenne snapped, almost on the verge of
tears herself.  We had been so good, and now the men were fixing to
treat us horribly!
         Not content with bolting us down to the logs, or tying our
hands, the men next fixed spreader bars to our ankle straps.  They used
these poles between our legs to keep them wide apart.  I had one between
my legs, a good three-footer, spreading my legs right up to my hiney,
and Cheyenne had one, and Polly, who was now blubbering, got one also.
         “Pee right where you are if you have to, I don’t care,” Louis
told Polly.  
         “Okay, I WILL then!” Polly declared, though her tears. 
         “Well?” Louis asked.  The girl’s bottom shivered but she
delivered no pee.
         “Now I don’t have to,” Polly gulped.
         “You never did,” Louis replied.  “Extra strokes for you my dear
Polly, for being a liar!”
         “It was just a likkle fib,” Polly pleaded.  Tears rolled anew
down her wet cheeks.
         “Bye, I love you,” Cheyenne said.  She was closest to me and
she turned her head to me.
         “Bye bye,” I replied, shivering, for I knew we were just
seconds away from our torment.  The men hefted their whips behind us and
swung them into the wind and commented on the possibilities of their
uses.  Meanwhile, not to limit their enjoyment in any way, they stripped
off their clothes and stood buck naked behind us, enjoying the sun on
their cocks, their balls.  They were fully erect and promised to ream
Polly and Cheyenne and I most astutely once they’d finished punishing
us.
         Louis bent over me and kissed me.  I felt his dangling cock
bounce off my heinie.
         “I love you,” he whispered to me.  “And I love your bottom. 
That’s why I’m going to whip it.”  His finger was under my chin and I
lowered my mouth quickly and caught it between my lips.  I sucked hard,
but I did not bite him, I did not bite.
         Andre gave Polly her goodbye kiss.  And then they both kissed
Cheyenne, making me feel just a tad jealous, despite my fears.
         Louis got behind me and caressed my bare fanny.  His cock
bobbed just behind its spheres, tempted, but wishing to see me punished
by the whip first.  After he’d touched me with his hand he picked up the
implement he’d chosen to start off with, a soft leather whip with thin
cords.  Deceptively he brushed it over my ass, touching me with it in
soft warm caressing movements, as if it were a sponge instead of a
whip.  Then, abruptly, he stood.  Andre, who’d been playing with Polly’s
ass, stood also.
         “We’ll share Cheyenne,” Louis told Andre.
         “Sounds fine with me,” Andre said.
         “Let’s see which of us can make them cry the most,” Louis
suggested.
         “They’re already crying,” Andre replied.  And we were, though I
at least tried my best not to.  I knew it would hurt and we would not be
spared.
         
         When we rode through the Indian village at dusk they turned out
to watch our jeep pass.  Louis drove slowly, as a hunter might, showing
off his catch.  Polly, Cheyenne and I could not sit.  We were bound over
the back seat, our asses high, still frigging ourselves to try to
assuage away the pain that they’d inflicted, Louis and Andre, high up in
the mountain crags, amidst the daisies.  We were red-faced, sobbing. 
Our tits swung with every movement of the jeep’s rolling wheels.  Polly
gasped anew as a fresh orgasm seized her.  It was our only hope of
relief.  Our bottoms, sore and ruthlessly cloven by our boyfriend’s
pricks, red as the sunset, offered us no respite.  Only our fingers
could, working constantly at our slits.  We’d been fucked anally, not in
our pussies, perhaps purposely, so we’d still be playing with ourselves
when the jeep drove down from the mountain.  I knew we were making a
spectacle of ourselves.  I heard an Indian woman laugh.  Young children
giggled.  They knew we were being naughty.  They did not know of whips
or penises but they knew girls must not rub themselves.  Even the
littlest girls knew that.  Yet here we were, big girls by comparison,
and we were frigging ourselves, and they could see by our bottoms that
we’d paid for our naughtiness.  What they did not know was that we had
not frigged ourselves and then been punished for it.  We’d been
punished, despite our goodness, erotically punished, and we’d had to
frig ourselves as our only hope of taking our minds off our bottoms.
         Rose received us back at the castle with hugs and kisses.  We
were bathed and put to bed, all in my room, so we could console each
other.  The men had not bothered to put salve on our bottoms but Rose
did, after our bath.  
         “Stop playing with yourselves, girls.  It’s over,” Rose told us
before turning out our light.  Then she clicked it off, shut the door,
and we cried ourselves to sleep.  Downstairs, Louis and Andre smoked
cigars and regaled Rose with our torments.  I heard her tinkling
laughter through the open window, Louis’s gruff descriptions.  I could
not hear his precise words but there was no question he and Andre were
telling her about their day.  
         In my dreams, after I’d fallen asleep, I saw Rose make love to
Louis and Andre, and I know my dreams were true.

         “Such bad little girls!” Rose scolded, waking us at first
light.  I was hungry.  I’d not eaten all the previous day, and had quite
forgotten about it, after my spanking up in the mountains.  She served
us breakfast in bed.  We ate like spoilt children, the three of us all
in a row.  Our covers were pulled up to just below our breasts, letting
our nipples show quite naughtily, but we revelled in the naughtiness,
not caring, and Rose did not mind either.  She left her own breasts bare
so that we would feel more comfortable in her presence.  We were all
females.  We ate with our fingers and she helped us drink our cocoa,
lifting our heads for us so that we would not spill it on ourselves.
         As I sipped my cocoa, feeling so special and cared for, I felt
my bottom against the smooth white sheet.  Just the pressing of the
sheet against it made me wince a little.  I heard Polly whimper as she
shifted within the bed to better accept her cocoa.  And Cheyenne, our
newest friend, mewled out a sulky little whine.  
         “My, such pampered little girls,” Rose chided.  She wiped my
chin with a napkin.  I’d let a little of the cocoa escape my lips.  “You
receive a nice punishment and all you can think to do it whine about
it.”  Polly, despite her bottom, eagerly opened her mouth and vied, like
a little kitten, for a sip from my cup.  Rose gave her a taste and Polly
greedily drank down the rest of my portion.
         We were not harmed.  No, just reminded every moment of how our
bottoms had been treated.  Whipped, with all manner of implements, all
of them carried aloft into the mountains by poor Polly, the littlest of
us.
         As unnecessary and unpleasant as our whipping had been, the
ride home had been even worse.  Sitting was, of course, out of the
question.  Even we knew that.  So the men had simply dumped us over the
back seat of their jeep and strapped us down to it.  Fortunately,
perhaps to show they were not utter brutes, one of them went to the
trouble of uncovering a coil of soft rope.  He’d rummaged around in the
jeep until he’d found it.  I didn’t see who.  I was too busy crying. 
         Our upper thighs had rested against the seat back, not our
hips.  This was to permit our hands to freely frig ourselves.  It was a
necessity.  I don’t think I could have borne the ride back if it weren’t
for my busy fingers.  Even hiking down the mountain, forced to carry the
very packs that had precipitated our distress, we had to play with
ourselves.  All three of us, myself, Cheyenne, and Polly, had traipsed
down the mountainside with at least one hand busily fondling our slit. 
Meanwhile, the men followed, leering at our bottoms.  Their loins were
utterly satisfied.  They had pried their way into our clenching
bottomholes with their ‘meat-packer pricks,’ as they called them, and it
was hardly a wrong name for them for I felt more stuffed than a
Christmas turkey when Louis, who had to work at me for quite some time,
finally got his awful Thing up me.  I could not relax with the severity
of the strapping he’d given me.  He’d had to fight his way into my
nether hole, while I screamed and kept gyrating my bottom and clenching
and squeezing it, trying to throw off the scalding burns from the
strap.  
         The air, passing over our upraised tushies on the ride back
down, had proven a welcome relief.  I remember wiggling my ass at the
sun, not caring if it tanned me, hoping to somehow cool down my bottom
in the wind.  
         The men deposited our backpacks in the small bed at the back of
the jeep.  My chin bounced on my backpack as they drove us home.  To the
castle.  It was our home now.  
         “It hoits!” Polly had sobbed to me as the sun set.  
         “Keep rubbing!” I’d shouted back to her between my own sobs.  A
moment later she’d crooned into orgasm.  The wind blew through our hair,
streaming it out beyond our faces.  Our backs flexed as we worked
ourselves into orgasm after orgasm.  We were very wet girls by the time
we got back to the castle.
         “There.  Breakfast’s all done,” Rose announced a little later. 
She laid down her knife and fork.  We’d all eaten from the same
silverware.  It was easier that way.  Polly smacked her lips.
         “Mmmm!  I liked my eggs,” she declared.
         “Let’s just hope the eggs in your womb don’t like all the sperm
that’s been pumped into you,” Rose replied.  “I haven’t been keeping up
on your pills like I should have.”
         “It’s okay.  I was fucked up the butt yesterday,” Polly
replied.  She spoke quite frankly, as if telling teacher she’d caught a
frog in her palm, or memorized her multiplication tables.
         “And how was it, darling?” Rose asked, caressing Polly’s face. 
The girl looked down.  Her eyes gazed at her nipples.  I watched as the
tips hardened.  
         “It was...bigggg,” Polly answered.
         “Andre fucked you?” Rose asked.
         “Mmm hmm,” Polly nodded.  She bobbed her chin.  “He was weally
big but I just kept bearing down, like he told me, opening my
bottomcheeks as much as I could.  Except, it was hard to breathe ‘cause
his penis actually pushed the air right out of me!” Polly exclaimed.
         “It always feels that way when a man fucks you, up the bottom I
mean,” Rose said.  She stroked Polly’s blonde hair.  She lifted a strand
to get it out of Polly’s eyes.  “You’ll get used to it, darling.  And as
for you, Fleury,” she said.  Her eyes met mine even as she continued
playing with Polly’s hair.  “Louis wants you put into a butt-harness. 
You know, the little item I told you about earlier.  You’ll wear it all
day from now on at the castle.  He insists he wants you more
accessible.”
         I bit my lip.  I did not want to be... altered.  Rose knew my
apprehension and, as if to console me, she slid a finger into my mouth. 
I bit down on it.  I sucked it and looked up at her with wide eyes.
         “Some men wish to have their girls made more receptive, using
such a device,” she explained simply.  I was aware of Cheyenne, next to
me, swallowing.  Her throat was dry.  Our cups were empty.  She was
swallowing fear.  Polly said nothing.  She listened, watching the tips
of her nipples.  She knew no such device was intended for her.  Andre
liked her just as she was.  
         We bathed and tidied up in the bathroom.  Then Rose took us
downstairs to show our bottoms to the men.
         Trooping into the parlor, I was amazed to see we were not
alone.  Rose had preceded us by a few minutes.  She sat interviewing a
young mother and her husband.  With them were their two daughters.  They
were moppets, kindergarten-age, squirming in their seats and oblivious
to what their mother and father were discussing.
         “I’ll want daycare for the children,” I heard the mother’s
voice say.  She turned and saw us.  Polly, myself, and Cheyenne were
utterly nude.  Louis and Andre were seated on the sofa in their tuxes
and we marched up to them and turned around.
         “Oooh, they’re naked!” one of the woman’s moppets exclaimed.
         “They’ve been bad, girls,” their father told them.  Their
mother would have shushed them, I think, but her face was ashen and she
was sitting very stiffly beside her husband.
         “We have nursery facilities on the premises,” Rose said to the
young mother.  She was writing on a pad.  “So you’ve not had enjoyable
sex since the birth of the twins?” 
         “No,” the father of the moppets answered.
         “It happens sometimes.  A female gets pregnant, becomes a
mother, and then feels the pressure of her new babies.  I’m sure it was
especially true in your case, with twins.  But there’s no reason you
can’t both resume an active sex life.  Sometimes the woman just needs to
be reawakened.  We have all the necessary things for that here.  As you
can see, we help young girls get in touch with their bodies all the time
here.”
         “Yes,” the young mother answered.  The father looked at us with
an interested eye.
         I felt Louis palm my bottom.  It didn’t hurt too much, except
his hand was calloused and their roughness made me flinch.
         “Oh!  You spanked me too HARD yesterday,” Polly told her
boyfriend Andre.  Louis laughed.  Cheyenne stood between us, waiting her
turn, just as she’d had to wait for her turn yesterday upon the
mountain.  At least today the hands passing over us were consoling ones.
         “Bend down,” Louis told me.  I leaned forward and reached down
and grasped my ankles.  He pried apart my nether cheeks and examined my
hole.
         “I told her we’d begin widening it today,” Rose said to Louis.
         “Good,” he answered.  He pressed the pad of his pointing finger
against my hineyhole.
         “I don’t want mine made bigger!” Polly said, as Andre made her
bend over, and Cheyenne too.
         “Another year and we’ll do it, maybe,” Andre mused.  “Or
perhaps I’ll have you branded back here.  Don’t squeeze your cheeks so. 
I’m trying to see into your hole.”
         “I know!  That’s why I’m trying to squeeze it shut!” Polly
blurted, but the prying of Andre’s fingers finally won out and he
treated himself to a close examination of her.  Polly wiggled, rocking
to and fro on her heels, an impatient child waiting to be let up.  Her
breasts swung freely under her chest.  I wondered if we’d been ruined at
all by our ride back home in the jeep.  Our tits had swung like fruit in
a windstorm, jounced and jostled by the jeep.  We’d been without bras,
of course.  We’d not brought any.  We’d ridden unprotected, despite the
best efforts of our mothers to keep us in training bras from the minute
our breasts had started growing.  I looked at mine.  They seemed okay. 
Louis reached out and passed his hand over my dangling nipples.  He
liked them, anyway.  He plumped my breasts in his palms and for a moment
I thought he would rise up and unzip himself and take me right there, in
front of the two little girls.
         Perhaps he might have, but Rose uttered his name and his hands
slipped away from my tits and he slapped my flank to make me stand up
again.
         “You do not mind if your wife is fucked by others?” Rose asked
the husband of the young mother matter-of-factly.
         “No,” he answered.  His eyes were on us.  Three underage girls
with our tits wobbling and our bottoms quite well-spanked.  The twin
little girls giggled.  One of them lifted her dress and began playing
with herself.
         “Don’t,” their mother said.  She slapped away the girl’s hand. 
But the little one went right back to frigging herself, and her sister
soon followed.
         “No harm will come to my daughters?” the wife asked.  
         “They will be returned to you as virginal as they are now,”
Rose smiled.  “Girls,” she said, addressing them.  “The reason the big
girls across the room got spanked is because they played with themselves
like you’re doing now.”
         “Ooooh!  I don’t want a spanking!” the one who had started the
game of frigging announced.  She withdrew her hand from her panties. 
Her sister copied her, pulling her hand up quickly and abruptly.
         “That’s better, girls,” Rose told them.  Their father nodded at
them approvingly.  
         A young woman walked into the parlor.  It was the neatly
dressed maid who’d attended to Polly and I on our first night.  She had
on her traditional maid’s costume, complete with its perky white hat and
apron, plus a skirt made of black cloth that was shorter than any maid
might wear in ordinary employment, but not so short as to show anything
if she was careful not to bend over.
         “Kelly, take these two to the nursery,” Rose told her.  She
pointed at the two kindergarten girls.  “They’re frisky.  Best to put
both of the them naked in the baby pool and give them some toys.  Is
little Johnnie about?”
         “Yes’m, he’s been showing me his cock repeatedly this morning
and I don’t know what to do!” Maria said.  There was a look of
exasperation in her voice.
         “Well, he can go swimming with these two,” Rose said.  “They’re
all the same age.  There should be no harm in it.”  She turned and
cocked an eyebrow at the girls’ mother.  She nodded, just a small nod,
but enough to show her approval.
         “I played with boys when I was their age.  It was... fun,” the
girls’ mother said.  “No fucking, of course.”
         “Of course not,” Rose answered.  “I’ll make sure no perverts
barge into their nursery.  And Kelly,” she turned her head.  “Make sure
Johnnie doesn’t get out of hand.”
         “Yes’m.  I don’t think he knows of such things, actually,” she
replied.  “He seems not to know yet th sides, feeling the vibrations
from her skin joining in the deep vibrations coming from her 
pussy and nipples as they were licked and stroked.
     Linda lifted her legs, setting them on Tom's shoulders,
drawing him in, focusing him.  Her clit was aching for attention
and it received it.  She bucked as an electrical jolt whipped
up and down her body.  "Oh, God, yes," she moaned.
     Linda writhed on the bed, tossing her head back and forth
as Tom concentrated on her clit.  He was driving her higher and
higher.  She reached down and grabbed his hair again and pulled
him harder to her.  Her clit was getting a lashing and she knew
she couldn't hold out much longer.  His finger pierced her for
the first time and she gave a small shout.  It moved in and out
in time to his tongue.  Now there were two fingers in her, 
penetrating, sliding and stroking.  Her breathing was ragged,
stopping, holding, drawing long shuddering breaths.  Her muscles
were quivering, jumping, and all that energy inside was ready
to burst free.
     Tom was surrounded by her odor and in heaven.  He licked
and nibbled and knew she was close as she ground her pussy 
into his face.  He was riding her waves of ecstasy, following
her as she bucked and plunged, twisted and turned.  He wouldn't
let her escape, his tongue flicking and pressing, smoothing and
lashing.
     It was too much.  He felt every muscle in her body tense,
then she was gone.  A short low scream was torn from her throat
and her muscles jerked her upright.  She pulled him up to her,
wrapping her arms around him kissing him, tasting herself on his
lips and sinking back down.  Slowly she relaxed.
     "Thank you, baby, oh thank you," she whispered in his ear.
     "Any time, Linda, any time."
     Their legs were entwined and she could feel his cock, hard
and fat, against her.
     "Come inside me, baby."
     "You sure you're ready?"
     "Come inside me, now."  He didn't move.  "Please?" she begged.
     Her breath was forced out as he complied.  It felt so good
to be filled again.  He began moving and she knew it was going
to be a long, wonderful night.

End Chapter 2 of HOTSPRINGS  by Delta.


                          HOTSPRINGS
                          Chapter 3

     "Here's the software you asked for, Kathy.  You really
think it will make a difference?"  Big Jake looked at the
box he was holding for a second before handing it to Kat.
     He had come around the desk to hand it to her, ensuring
that the combination of his height and her being seated
would give him a good look down the top of her dress.  Kat
recognized this and smiled demurely up at him.
     "It will give us an easy way to track expenses by
categories.  We'll have a much better grip on where the money
is going and where it is coming from.  Yes, it will make
a difference, Big Jake," Kat answered.  Big Jake didn't look
especially happy about that.  Perhaps it was the cost of the
software, perhaps it was something else.  Kat decided she
would redouble her efforts to sort out the mess that 
comprised the books of Hotsprings Campsite.  "It will also 
save a lot of time, time which can then be spent on other 
things.  Basically, you'll be saving the salary of one 
employee."
     "Anything else you need me for, just now?"  Big Jake
moved back around the desk, twirling his keys around his
finger.  "I strained my back a little and I think I'll take
a dip in the pool then have a little rest before dinner" he
explained.
     "No, thanks Big Jake.  You've been a big help.  I may
have more questions later, but for now I have my work cut
out for me."  Kat was looking at the papers and books which
covered the desk, yet was well aware of the long looks Big
Jake was lavishing on her breasts.  It was difficult not 
to smile.
     "Kat?"  Stacy was at the door.
     "Yes, Stacy."
     "Here's the salad you wanted."  Stacy squeezed past Big
Jake, who made no effort to give her more room, and placed
the salad on the desk.  Kat dismissed her and she squeezed 
her way back out past Big Jake.  He had moved fractionally
to give her even less room on the way out, causing her breasts
to lightly brush against his arm as she went past.  
     Kat could see Stacy's jaw was tight.  She would have to
do something about this - soon.  Big Jake would have to learn 
to back off where her people were concerned.  She couldn't have
distractions like this disrupting the subtle training which
was going on.  Her eyes were mild, however, as she looked
up at Big Jake, whose glance had followed Stacy out of the
room.
     "Well, I'd better get at it.  I hope your back gets
better fast, Big Jake."
     Big Jake was licking his lips as he turned his attention
back to her and gave a wave.  "Thanks, Kathy."  He turned
and left, giving Stacy a long look as he passed the counter
on his way to the door.

     "Stacy."  
     "Yes, Kat?"  She had arrived at the door in seconds. 
She was learning.  
     Kat looked up from the computer which wasn't cooperating
with her at all.  The damn program wouldn't function.  She'd
never had any problem with it before in other places
     "Where's Fred?"
     "He should be doing prep for the supper hour, Kat."  
Stacy was nervous.  She didn't know why Kat elicited that
response in her.  All she knew was that she had to keep on 
her toes at all times.
     "Ask him to come here."
     "Yes, Kat."  She turned to go.
     "And Stacy . . ."  Stacy turned back.   "Stacy, all this
desk work has me a little stiff again.  We'll close the office
for a half hour when you bring Fred back."
     Stacy looked down and blushed.  "Yes, Kat."  Her voice was
subdued.

     Stacy left to do Kat's bidding.  It was a beautiful day
outside, yet she didn't notice it.  Her mind was on the previous
night.  Kat had returned, from where ever it was she had gone,
complaining that she was stiff.  Stacy had been in the process
of winding down her day when Kat had come through the door.
Again Stacy had noticed the almost regal bearing of the smaller
woman.  There was something about her which made you step back
and take notice.  She was a woman accustomed to giving orders.
Stacy began reliving her memory.

     "Stacy.  I have a stiff back.  After you close the office 
come to my room.  I need a backrub."  There was no question in
Kat's mind but that Stacy would obey.  She didn't wait around
for questions, she simply turned on her heel and left.
     Stacy's jaw was left hanging open.  It was true that
she owed Kat a favor, still, Kat could have asked.  This 
ordering her about wasn't necessary.  She considered bringing 
this up to Kat but the very idea caused her to quake inside.  
What if Kat became angry?  How much worse would her position 
with Tom be if Kat left or withdrew her protection?  It had 
been bad enough before.
     With no little trepidation Stacy knocked on Kat's door.
     "Enter."  She had obeyed, hesitantly.
     "You are late."  It was an accusation demanding an 
explanation.  Kat's eyes had been hard and cold.
     "I'm sorry, Kat."  She was shaking.  "Some guests showed up
just before I closed.  I had to wait on them."  It seemed to her
that, although she had accepted the explanation, Kat was not 
thrilled with it.  "I'm really sorry, Kat," she apologized again.
     "Enough."  Kat made a quick motion with her hand, cutting
Stacy off.  "I'm stiff and a bit sore.  A back rub would be
very pleasing just now."
     "You know, Kat," Stacy wanted to be helpful, "soaking in
the pool does wonders to relax you."
     The reply was so cold Stacy shivered.  "If I wanted to soak
in the pool, I'd be there now."  Kat turned to let Stacy unzip
the back of her dress - much to Stacy's dismay.  "Well, unzip 
it.  I'm not going to have you give me a back rub through the 
dress.  I like the friction of skin on skin."  
     Stacy unzipped the dress and Kat stepped out of it.  She 
seemed to be waiting for something and, with some shock, Stacy 
realized Kat intended that she unhook her bra as well.  With
trembling hands Stacy unhooked the bra.  Kat hung it carefully
on the chair, and lay down.  Her shoes and stockings had been
removed previously.  Only a pair of silken panties stood 
between Kat and total nudity.
     As Kat turned to lie down, Stacy got a good look at her 
breasts and her breath caught.  They were wonderfully formed, 
with lovely brown nipples centered in light brown areolae.
What had caused her breath to catch, however, was seeing that
the nipples were erect, as if Kat were excited.  She blushed.
     Fortunately Kat was turning to lie down and couldn't see.  
Stacy approached the bed and sat on the side of it.  There was 
massage oil already sitting on the night table and she put
a few drops in her palm and rubbed her hands together.
     Her hands were trembling as they reached out and touched
Kat's back.  She made a few tentative strokes and was rewarded
by a small sigh from the woman below her.  Some of her 
nervousness subsided and she began long strokes up and down
Kat's back.  Stacy knew she wasn't a great masseuse, although
there had been few complaints from her previous boyfriend, and
hoped that Kat would find her adequate to the task.
     Her position, due to the height of the bed, was not a 
good one for pressure strokes, but she did her best.  As she
developed a rhythm her nervousness disappeared.
     "Stacy."  Her stomach fluttered.
     "Yes, Kat?"
     "You can get better pressure if you straddle my legs -
sit on the back of my thighs."  Stacy hesitated.  "Now, Stacy."
     Thoughts went racing through her head.  Should she run,
leave the room?  Should she obey?  What were the consequences
of each action?  She desperately wished to run, instead she
obeyed and climbed up on the bed.  Her skirt ran up her 
thighs as she knelt over Kat.
     Kat had been correct.  She did have much better position
there and she put her weight to good use.  Kat's quiet groans
testified to that.  However, the job she was doing didn't
suit Kat's standards, for she began directing Stacy where and
how to stroke.  
     It was fortunate, Stacy thought, that she had quite an
aptitude for learning.  Kat didn't seem the patient type.
     The feel of Kat's skin under her hands had been a little
exciting.  Eliciting the moans from her even more so.  Every
time Kat gave any indication of enjoying the work Stacy was
doing, Stacy felt her heart leap.  If she were able to keep
Kat happy, Kat would keep Tom away.
     At last Kat had dismissed her, not even thanking her.
It had been hard work and she had been sweating by the end
of it.  She went to her room to take a shower.

     "Hi, Stacy, what's up?"  Fred's voice brought her back
to the present.
     "Kat would like to see you in the inner office as soon
as you can manage it."
     "And she sent you to tell me?"  Fred was a little 
indignant.  "What's wrong with her, broken a leg?  I have half
a mind to get you to tell her to come herself if she wants to
talk to me.  Does she think I have nothing better to do?"
     Stacy became visibly agitated.  "Please come, Fred.
Don't send me back with that message.  Please?"
     Fred relented.  It wasn't Stacy with whom he was angry.
"Okay, Stacy, I'll come along and see what it is Kat wants."
Stacy looked pathetically grateful.  "Is it worth it, Stacy?"
     She was confused.  "Is what worth it?"
     "Your relationship with Kat.  I don't like seeing you
so worried about what she might think."  He patted her on
the shoulder kindly as she led him out the door.
     "She's protecting me, Fred.  It feels so good to know
that she cares about me, better to know that Tom will be 
leaving me alone."
     "That sort of protection carries a price-tag.  Is it
worth it?"
     "She's good to me," Stacy began defending Kat.
     "I'm not saying otherwise, Stacy.  All I am asking is,
is it worth the price?"
     "Yes."  The word was spoken defiantly.
     "Then it's okay.  I'd just hate to see you get hurt."  
Fred's voice was mild.
     "You're sweet, Fred, but I know what I'm doing."  Stacy
wondered if she did, but wasn't going to admit that.
     They walked into the office and Fred went to the inner
office while Stacy returned to her desk.

     "Ah, Fred, do you know anything about computers?"  Kat
asked him.  "I can't get this program up and working.  I
figured you would probably have some ideas."
     The woman had some cheek - calling him in on the off
chance he knew about computers.  If he didn't, then the whole
trip was a waste of time.  Who the hell did she think she was?
He nodded to himself - of course.  It's what she would do, being
who she was.
     "I know a little.  Let me take a look."  
     Kat vacated her seat for him and he sat down.  She sat on 
the edge of the desk and watched him carefully, as if she were
studying him.  Which she probably was, he thought, grimly.  Ten
minutes later he was finished.  He stood and relinquished the
chair. 
     "You had an irq conflict and not enough memory.  I resolved
the conflict and loaded DOS and a few other things high.  It
should solve the problem."  He turned to go.
     "You did that well, and quickly."  Kat was thoughtful.
"Why are you here?"
     "Because you asked me," he replied innocently, well aware
that his answer wasn't to the question she had asked.  "You
asked me at a time when I was quite busy with my duties.  I
came.  You owe me for that."  He grinned to himself.
     "And what would you like to square the debt?" Kat asked 
him.  She was fishing for information, he knew.
     "Oh, I'm sure I'll think of something," he said in an
offhand manner and left her scowling behind him.  Did she 
think he'd be that easy?  Big Jake was walking down the
boardwalk and he waved to him before returning to the kitchen.

     Big Jake walked into the office, looking much more 
relaxed. His hair was still wet and was combed straight back.
     "Well, Stacy, you're sure looking good today."  He leered
at her.
     "Thank you, Big Jake," Stacy blushed and looked down.
     "You ought to try one of those push-up bras - I think 
it'd look real good on you - maybe one of those half-cups."
     "Big Jake," Stacy began plaintively, "please."
     "Here."  He tossed her something, but it fell short,
landing on the floor.  He stood waiting.  "Go, on, pick it
up, it's for you."  He had purposely thrown it short so she
would have to bend down to pick it up.  Stacy looked around
for help, but there was none forthcoming.  Her face was red
and she felt humiliated.  She moved to pick up the souvenir
pin, for that was what it was, she now saw.
     "MISTER Saunders."  Stacy looked up to see Kat standing
like an avenging angel.  Her heart began to beat faster.
     "Mister Saunders.  That is sexual harassment, and I
cannot allow it to continue."  Her eyes were bright with the
prospect of battle.  Stacy thrilled to her words and backed
up out of the line of fire, so to speak.
     "Aw, come on, Kathy, it's all in fun."
     "From where I stand it doesn't look much like fun for
Stacy.  I don't think it's very funny either.  It will stop
Mr. Saunders.  It will stop now."  Kat was all aglow, Stacy
thought.  She was enjoying the confrontation, where Stacy 
would have been paralyzed.
     "Now look here, Kathy . . ." Big Jake was becoming
angry, but Kat interrupted him before he could finish what
he had begun.
     "No.  You look, Mister Saunders.  If it doesn't cease,
I'm afraid there will be a sexual harassment suit.  And you
know how the courts are these days, concerning sexual
harassment."
     Big Jake was red in the face and Stacy began to fear for
Kat.  She'd never seen him so angry before.  Kat, however,
didn't appear worried.
     "I hired you, young lady, and I can fire you . . ." Again
he was interrupted.
     "I wonder what your potential investors would think about
a wrongful dismissal suit *and* a sexual harassment suit coming
about at the same time.  Might make them reconsider, don't you
think, Mister Saunders?"  
     Big Jake seemed to run out of steam suddenly.  Stacy 
looked back to Kat, who appeared much larger than life.  She
was relaxing slowly, knowing she had won.
     "It's not much I'm asking, Big Jake," she said soothingly.
"All we are asking is for you to treat us with the respect 
that employees are due.  We, of course, will continue to 
treat you with the respect that an employer is due.  Think
of it this way:  it will improve moral here and more work
will get done.  Your staff will be happier and your customers
can only benefit.  When they benefit they will be happier and
you will benefit, also.  Is that too much to ask?"  Kat was now
the very voice of reason.
     "Guess, not," Big Jake huffed.  He bent down and retrieved
the pin.  He walked over to Stacy and handed it to her.  "I
know you collect these, Stacy.  I'm sorry," he apologized, "I
never wanted you to feel harassed or anything."
     Stacy looked down at the pin.  "Thank you, Big Jake, it
really is nice."  He turned and stomped out.  As soon as he
had disappeared from sight, Stacy turned to Kat.
     "You did it," the excitement was too much for her and
she began jumping up and down.  She ran over to Kat and hugged
her.  "You did it, you did it," she repeated.  
     Kat allowed her the moment than disengaged from her.  "We 
still have an appointment in my room, Stacy.  Close the office."
     "Sure, Kat, sure.  Let's go.  I'll give you the best
back rub you've ever had."
     At that moment Jennie walked in.  "Hi, girls.  I thought
I'd give you a break.  Go on out and enjoy this magnificent
sunshine for a while.  Come on back in ninety minutes."
     "Thank you."  The two women said in unison.

     Stacy had expected this massage to follow the pattern
of the last.  It wasn't to be.  After she had helped Kat out
of her dress and bra, Kat turned and looked at her.  Her 
stomach began its familiar churning.  She looked Kat in the
eyes as long as she could, but had to look down before Kat
broke contact.
     "You must get quite hot when you give a massage."  Kat
waited until Stacy felt she had to answer.
     "I guess so, Kat."  She wasn't sure she knew where this
was heading, but she was fairly sure she wouldn't like it.
     "I don't want guesses from you.  Do you or do you not
find that you become hot?"
     "Yes.  It is a hot job, Kat."  She continued looking
down.
     "Much better, Stacy."  Stacy perked up a bit.  "You must
continue to give straight answers."  She paused and Stacy's
stomach resumed it churning.  "Your skirt is quite abrasive
and distracting and I don't like that.  I think we'll both
feel much better if you undress to the same level as I have."
     Stacy's eyes rounded and her jaw dropped.
     "Do you have a problem with that, Stacy."  
     Stacy raised her eyes to meet Kat's gaze.  The level 
stare from the cool green eyes unnerved her.  She wished she
were anywhere else but here.  She owed Kat, yes, but how much?
Yet if Kat abandoned her now, she'd have to face Big Jake 
alone and she knew she couldn't do that.  After the scene
downstairs he'd be after more than the odd look down her top,
and now she knew she wouldn't be able to say no.  She'd either
have to give in or quit.  She began to tremble.
     "No, I guess not."
     "Pardon."  Again Kat sounded regal and imperious.
     "No, Kat, I don't have a problem with that."
     "With what, Stacy?"
     "I don't have a problem with taking off my clothes to
give a massage, Kat."
     "Ah, much better.  You don't have to, of course.  Do you
want to do this?"  Stacy looked up relieved.  The relief died
quickly as she saw Kat's face.
     "Yes, Kat, I want to take off my clothes to give you a 
massage.  It'll be much more comfortable for both of us."
Stacy felt defeated.
     "Well, if you think so.  Okay.  Let's get started."  Kat
lay down on her back and watched as Stacy's trembling hands
began to unbutton her blouse.
     The last button came undone and Stacy hesitated under
Kat's unwavering gaze.  Then she mustered up her courage and
pulled the  blouse from her skirt and shrugged it off.  Kat
continued to watch impassively.  
     Her heart was pounding as she unclasped her skirt and 
let it fall to the floor.  Why was she doing this?  Because
she had to.  Not doing it, leaving Kat's protection, was
unthinkable.  Stacy bent over and removed her shoes and
socks.  There was something both degrading and liberating
about being without her clothes and, as Kat had correctly
stated, it was hot work.  It would be more pleasant doing
it in this state of undress.
     The massage oil, as before, was on the night table.  
Stacy moved toward it, then stopped as Kat held up her hand.
     "The same level, Stacy."  
     Stacy's face burned.  "But my bra won't even touch you,
won't come near.  Why would you want . . . ."
     "The same level, Stacy."  The words were colder this time.
     Stacy gulped and unhooked her bra.  There was a fraction
of a second's hesitation before it slipped off exposing her
breasts to the air.
     Kat was appraising her.  Stacy knew what she was seeing.
Her breasts were large, pear-like, with large pink areolae 
capped with pink nubbins which pointed slightly downwards.
Her waist flared out into wide hips and down into nicely
shaped legs.  A nice hour-glass figure.  She wished that her
ass was a little less plump, but one has to live with what
one gets - the thought of any sort of surgery, besides being
too expensive, was too frightening to contemplate for long.
     She had always been slightly embarrassed about her looks -
the boys had always given her those long leering looks.  Kat,
however, seemed to be suitably impressed.  She nodded at Stacy
and turned over to allow her to begin her work.
     Stacy began as Kat had instructed, with long light strokes
to her back.  She straddled Kat's legs, as before, feeling Kat's
skin against her own in an unrestricted way which she had not
before felt, and her stomach did a flip flop.  Her pressure 
strokes began.  Again, every time Kat moaned in delight, Stacy
was proud that it was her strokes which were doing this.  She
bent her head down and continued work with a passion.
     "Stacy."
     "Yes, Kat?"  Had she done something wrong?  But, no, there
was no tone of censure in Kat's tone.
     "You are free of Big Jake and Tom now.  Do you realize 
what that means?"
     It had been so long since she had had such freedom that
she didn't.  She started thinking of how it would feel to
simply go to work, go about her job and not feel pressured
or put upon by her co-workers.  Mel, she thought, had a
thing for her, but was too embarrassed to mention it.  Fred,
on the other hand, was simply kind and she felt no pressure
from him at all.  Actually, Fred she wouldn't mind getting
closer to.
     She was free!  A sense of euphoria rose within her.
What to do with her freedom, though?  She just didn't know.
She had never expected to reach this position, this position
she had always dreamed of.  Now that she had, there was no
dream to carry her on.  It would take time, she supposed, to
accustom herself to her new freedom.  Damn Big Jake, Tom and
others like them who had kept her down for so long!  Thank
God Kat had come along and put them in their place.
     "Stacy?"
     Oh, no, she hadn't answered Kat's last question.  
     "Yes, Kat?"  Here it comes, she thought.
     "I'd like you to think of what you'd like to do.  Think
out loud.  I'm interested in your thoughts."
     Kat was interested in what she had to say?  Nobody had
ever been that interested in what was in her head, only in
what was in her bra and panties.
     "Gee, Kat.  It's all been so sudden.  I don't know what
I want.  Maybe just to bask in this sense of freedom.  I feel
really up, you know, really up.  It's never been this way
before.  I guess I don't know what I want . . . Sorry.  I
don't really know what I want.  It may take some time."
     "You'll have time, Stacy.  Oh, that feels good, just a
little harder."
     Stacy put a little more pressure into her strokes.
"You know, it feels so good being up that I'm mad that they 
kept me down."
     "They?"
     "Tom, Big Jake, men.  Sometimes I'd like to punish them
all . . ."  At these words Kat began to twist, to turn over.
Stacy moved to give her room to turn, then relaxed back down
on her thighs.  Kat moved a pillow under her head and gazed up
at Stacy.  She was pondering something.  Stacy wondered if
she'd said something wrong.
     "Punish them?"  Kat seemed intrigued.
     "Oh, it's just a thought."  Stacy's face turned hard.  
"But sometimes I'd like to hurt them, the way they've hurt me,
treating me like I wasn't really human, just something to use.
When I think of how I used to feel when I went in to get 
something to eat," tears began forming, "just wanting to 
enjoy some food - " her voice cracked, "'cause he cooks so 
well, damn him - and have to take all those leers, the nasty 
double meanings in everything he said . . . . Why'd he do that 
to me, Kat, why?"  The tears were coming freely now.  
     Kat reached out to take Stacy's hands, to comfort her,
but Stacy jerked them back.  She didn't want to be comforted.
Anger welled up, and she wiped away the tears.  Her voice, 
when it came, was harsh.
     "I want to pay them, him, back, Kat.  That's what I want.
Revenge."  She stopped speaking.
     "Revenge can be a costly undertaking, Stacy."  Kat's 
voice was soft, but her eyes were bright.  "It might be 
better to just enjoy the freedom you have."  Kat seemed to
be giving her an out, and Stacy loved her for it.
     "I'll pay the price, Kat."  A light burst in her brain.
"That's why you're here, isn't it?  You're going to get him,
aren't you?  You're going to show him who's the boss, aren't
you?  I'll help, I'll do anything."  She was excited now.
     "No, Stacy, not him."  Disappointment crashed down about
Stacy's shoulders.  "Not *just* him.  All of them, Stacy, all 
of them.  Do you still want to help?"
     "Yes.  Definitely."
     "It will mean doing whatever I say, when I say it.  You
may not like some of the things I ask you to do."  
     Stacy had the feeling that although Kat appeared to be
trying to talk her out of it, she was drawing her in further
and further - deliberately.  She looked down and saw Kat's 
breasts, nipples erect, moving up and down with her breathing.
She was breathing quickly, the look on her face, the look 
beneath the quiet considerate look, was one of triumph.  There
was a moment of doubt, but it passed.  "I want, Kat, I want."
     "Good."
     Stacy flung herself forward, squashing her breasts against
Kat's and hugged her.  Her head was next to Kat's ear.  "Thank
you, Kat, thank you," she breathed.
     "Okay, Stacy, you can get up now."
     Stacy released her hold on Kat and clambered to her feet.
     "On the dresser you will find a small black choker.  If
you put it on, you will be mine."  Stacy picked up the choker.
"It will be a constant reminder that you belong to me, that
you must do what I say."  Stacy studied the small piece of
cloth in her hands.  "If you do not obey quickly, or well
enough, you will be punished."  Stacy looked up.  "Do you
understand?"
     "If I don't obey you to your satisfaction you will 
punish me."  She paused.  "But if I please you, I'll get to
punish the others?"
     "You will get your revenge," Kat agreed.  "Be sure you
want to do this.  If you ever take off the choker and return
it to me, or if I take it back, you will lose all your
privileges - you will be back where you were before I took
you in.  You can remain where you are now, you don't have to 
put it on, but once you do, there is no turning back."
     Stacy placed the black cloth about her neck without
hesitation.  "I am yours.  I want to wear it."
     There was triumph on Kat's face, naked triumph.
     "You have pleased me.  Your actions and your massage have
pleased me.  As a reward I will allow you to suckle at my 
breasts."  Stacy's eyes lit up and she hurried forward to
join Kat on the bed.  She had pleased Kat!

     Kat held Stacy's head and guided it to her breast.  Her
nipple was suddenly encased in warm wetness.  It ached as it
became even stiffer.  She felt the tingling run from her 
nipple down and through her body.  She was alive with the 
triumph of the moment, and this was the cap of it.  Her first
victory.  Stacy was hers, now, and the others would soon 
follow.  She would use Stacy - ah, that felt so good, Stacy
was flicking her nipple with her tongue - to get the others.
Mel would be easy pickings, she figured.  Tom - difficult,
yet manageable.  She only had to set up the right set of
circumstances and he would be had.  Fred was the wild card,
yet he, too, would succumb eventually.  Of that she was
sure.  She had never failed before, and would not this time.
Big Jake?  Well, that would depend on Jennie.  Jennie . . .
     A warm wave of contentment went through her, disrupting
her thoughts.  It was always the same, this joy at the first 
conquest.  Stacy had a nimble tongue.  Perhaps she would use 
it to better effect than on her breasts only.  But that could 
wait.  Kat didn't want to scare her off.
     Oh, yes, that felt good.  She pulled at Stacy's hair
and led her to the other breast.  Stacy put as much as she 
could in her mouth, sucking and licking at it.  She pet 
Stacy on the head.  A good pet.  Yes, she was a good pet, 
indeed.
     "That's enough, Stacy.  You didn't please me excessively."
Stacy looked disappointed as she gave up the nipple.  She stood
and Kat followed her up.
     "I think I need a shower now.  You may soap me."  Stacy's
eyes lit again with the chance to please her friend, her
mistress.  "You may take off my panties."
     Stacy went immediately to her knees and pulled Kat's 
panties gently down.  Kat was indeed a true red-head, as Stacy
would see.  There was a bush of fine red hair on her mound, 
neatly trimmed.  Kat watched as she stood once more.  She 
merely gazed at Stacy, waiting.  The light of understanding 
lit Stacy's face - to the same level.  Stacy pulled down her
own panties and left them lying on the floor as she followed
Kat into the bathroom.

     The water was warm and Stacy's hands were slippery with
soap.  Her hands roamed up and down Kat's body, teasing her
breasts, stomach and legs.  Kat's moans of satisfaction 
guided her.  The more she moaned, the more attention Stacy
paid to that particular area.  The undersides of Kat's breasts
had received much attention, as had her nipples.  Stacy 
wondered how far she should go.  Suddenly it was obvious - she 
belonged to Kat now.  Her hand, thick with suds moved between 
Kat's legs and began stroking and soaping her there.  Kat's 
breathing quickened and Stacy felt the joy within her rise.  
She soaped Kat up and rinsed her down then soaped her up again.  
Kat's legs were beginning to tremble and in a sudden bit of 
daring, Stacy found her clit and began to wash it carefully and 
thoroughly.  She looked up through the stream of water to
see Kat's arms were above her head, her hands holding on to
the showerhead for support.  Her head was back and she was
breathing through her mouth, trembling, her breasts jiggling 
like jello.  Stacy grinned and reached one hand up to still 
a breast, then to rub the nipple while the other kept up its 
work on Kat's clit.  Kat must be washed clean, she thought 
joyously.  The trembling grew and grew and Stacy stroked 
faster and faster.
    "Oh, yes!"  Kat took in great draughts of breath and
slowly collapsed down, down.  Stacy felt her head being drawn
back to a nipple.  She fastened on and began to lick and 
suck once more, the water cascading over them both.  
She had pleased her mistress.  She was ecstatic.  
    "Oh, Kat, you're so beautiful," she murmured as she
switched breasts.
    "Mistress Kathryn," Kat corrected her gently, stroking
her hair.
    "Mistress Kathryn," Stacy agreed.

End Chapter 3, Hotsprings by Delta.  delta@bc.sympatico.ca

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