Message-ID: <19516eli$9902010426@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: LCDRJMC@aol.com Subject: [lcdrjmc] NEW: Bountiful Plantation 5/6 (F+/F) Reluc by lcdrjmc@aol.com Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-ID: <1ebc89cb.36b4243c@aol.com> [lcdrjmc] Subject: NEW: Bountiful Plantation [5/6] (F+/F) Reluc by lcdrjmc@aol.com Standard Disclaimer: This is a work of erotic fiction. It is intended for Adults Only, so if you're not--then go away. It is not intended for sale, but if you'd like to pass it around, feel free. Just keep the text and header as is and all will be well. Enjoy! Bountiful Plantation: Part V of VI Carrying her gown carefully by the hook on the garment bag, Cynthia climbed up the winding back stairs of her home like someone who was a great deal older than eighteen. Moving slowly was the only way she knew to reduce the effects of the digging cloth on her poor, abused pussy. The fabric had worked its way deep into her vulva, and was also pressed directly onto her terribly erect clitoris. Even moving slowly, she found she could only walk a short distance before having to stop and try to regain control of her body. The drive home had quickly become a nightmare for her, but this time she knew she had no-one to blame for her difficulties but herself. She could still feel the desperate need for an orgasm screaming inside of her that her drive home somehow induced. "I must get these jeans off!" she thought frantically. What was she thinking? If she didn't take them off very, very soon, she knew for certain that she would embarrass herself once again! She continued to climb very slowly up the narrow stairs, but she knew she was near the end of her endurance. Each step she took caused her pussy to positively throb. Cynthia held her breath, went up another step, and her vagina exploded! She collapsed on the stairs, careful to keep her new gown above her as she did so. She lay helpless on her back as she watched with gasping horror the small wet spot on the crotch of her jeans which marked the deep cleft of her sex. The spot started to grow larger and larger as her vagina pulsed out the lubricating fluids. "Oh, wonderful!" she thought bitterly as she gritted her teeth to keep from crying out. "I just creamed my jeans!" A young woman wearing a caterer's standard uniform of white shirt and tight black slacks, came bounding up the stairs and stopped dead at the sight of the teenager lying there. "Are you hurt?" the pert blonde asked in a lilting English accent. Terribly embarrassed at being caught like this, Cynthia could only shake her head and mumble, "Wet myself." The woman placed her button nose directly over Cynthia's wet crotch and sniffed delicately, once. Apparently satisfied at the result, she reached under the girl's top and unfastened Cynthia's jeans, and began pulling them off the stricken girl. Still shaken by the effects of her powerful orgasm, Cynthia could only moan, "Yes! Oh, yes!" when she realized that the English girl meant to rescue her from her traitorous clothing. For some reason this seemed to inspire the young woman to even greater efforts as she now labored frantically to pull Cynthia's very tight jeans off of her hips. It was obviously a mighty struggle for her, but finally, the small blonde woman had the clinging jeans down past Cynthia's thighs. Soon she had them piled, along with the girl's shoes and socks, on a lower landing. Cynthia felt herself returning to normal after the effects of her latest devastating orgasm and breathed a deep sigh of relief. She was free at last of those terrible jeans! She was preparing to thank her rescuer when she saw the woman move her legs apart and sit right between her opened thighs. "Now what?" the unsuspecting teenager thought, then gasped with horror as the woman placed her mouth directly onto her vulva. "Oh, my God! No! You can't! Stop! You can't do that!" Still holding her gown, the struggling girl tried to go backwards up the stairs, but the woman held on to the teenager's naked hips with fierce tenacity. Her mouth proved, in Cynthia's rapidly growing experience of such things, to be very educated indeed. Soon, the insatiable mouth clamped on her pussy drained the already exhausted Cynthia of any strength to resist her attacker. Naked from the waist down, Cynthia could only lay helpless on the stairs while she was being eaten out by a complete stranger, and one of the caterers at that! Oh, the shame, the shame. Cynthia, to her disgust, climaxed mightily and her female seducer eagerly lapped the dazed teenager's pulsing vaginal fluids. After expertly licking the panting girl dry, the caterer hopped over Cynthia's legs and started up the stairs. "Hey, wait," Cynthia weakly called up the stairs. "You can't..." "Sorry, love. No time to make a proper job of it. Never you mind, eh? We'll do it right tomorrow night. Ta!" Then she was gone! The flabbergasted Cynthia couldn't believe it. She had wanted to violently protest this awful violation of her person by this total stranger, and instead only managed to make a date with her for the party. "It's just not fair!" the half-naked girl wailed as she stood up and tiredly started climbing up the stairs again. She almost reached the top when she realized she had forgotten all her things on the stairs below. By the time she had gone back down, retrieved her clothes and started back up the stairs, Cynthia had worked herself into a full self-pitying cry. When the sobbing girl reached the second floor, she shielded herself as best she could and fled to the safety of her room. The day of the party had finally arrived and the large house was in state of carefully controlled turmoil. Cynthia knew that this was THE party, as far as her parents were concerned. It was an annual affair, given by Cynthia's father for all of his favorite clients: past, present and future. It was completely catered, with a formal dinner served in a large pavilion set up out back, dancing, several temporary bars, and even fireworks. There were always two bands, one out on the back lawn for the sedate dancers, and one down in the basement recreation area for the younger set. The party was something that most people did not miss willingly. Cynthia would have paid a good deal of money to have been anywhere else today. After what she had gone through this weekend, after all of the humiliations and abuses she had endured, all she wanted to do for the entire day was to stay in bed. But Cynthia was now an official part of today's events, and staying in bed was out of the question. At least that's what her mother kept telling her as she threw the still-sleeping teenager out of bed at the ungodly hour of 10 o'clock in the morning. As Cynthia grew older, she reluctantly found herself becoming more and more involved with her mother's hostess duties, especially anything concerning the younger set. She had already been informed she was to be part of the "official reception committee", which was just her mother's way of saying Cynthia was to be one of the greeters at the front door. She was also to be seated at one of the big tables this time, which was were the really important clients were always located. Cynthia had felt rather badly after being woken like that, yet she knew it was the best thing that could have happened to her. By being thrown into the party preparations, she'd had no time at all to brood over the astonishing events of the past two days. Not a contemplative person even at the best of times, Cynthia brushed aside all that had happened to her and focused on the needs of the party. More specifically, she concentrated on the impression she was going to make on everyone tonight. It would, she was sure, truly be a night to remember! Well, it was party time and she was almost ready. She was standing nude in her bathroom, bathed, shaved, powdered, and with her face on. She was sweetly perfumed in all the right places. Earlier in the day she had completed all the important things: gotten her hair and nails done, received a pedicure, and bought a new pair of shoes with (of course) a matching hand bag. Her normal routine of also buying new underwear for a special event didn't apply this time, as she (Oh God!) wasn't going to be wearing any. She was to spend the entire evening wearing the slinkiest gown she had ever seen, with her shoes, and that was all! She had been getting goose pimples all day just thinking about it! Except for her small crotch protector, that is. At least she would have that on. She stared at her nude reflection one last time, then shrugged her shoulders. She sat down on her bathroom chair and picked up the kit Mickey had given her yesterday. She carefully applied the supplied adhesive around the edges of the protector, then gingerly placed the small object directly onto her vulva, being careful to avoid her recently trimmed pubic hair as much as possible. It fit perfectly. Looking at the small half-shell, Cynthia felt decidedly foolish wearing it, yet she had to have something! She stood up and looked in the mirror. The shell completely covered her vulva. "Well, I'll be protected down there at least," she thought. "But, God! It feels just like someone has their hand right on me!" She wiggled her hips experimentally and the protector remained in place. "How weird!" she said to her reflection. Finally satisfied that all was well, she took the gown out of its protective bag and slowly inserted her trim, athletic body into the form-fitting garment. When the gown was on her, she set the shoulder and neck straps, then zipped up the back. She stepped into her new shoes, a pair of wicked-looking high-heels. Finally, Cynthia put on her most discreet but still very expensive diamond earring-and-pendant set. With this gown, no other jewelry would be necessary. Now that she was complete, she carefully checked herself one last time. "Wow," she reverently whispered. "Wow." She was elegant! She felt herself absolutely glowing with untouchable sex. The effect took her breath away. It was like a fairy tale come true. She really was the pristine Virgin Princess at the Royal Ball. Intoxicated with her own beauty, Cynthia floated out of her room and down the corridor to the main stair case. She stood alone on the landing and waited a moment to compose herself. She knew her gown deserved only the most perfect of entrances. If she ever decided to wear it out in town, she'd probably require an armed guard to keep the guys away, but in her own home with a house full of guests, she knew she was perfectly safe. Cynthia was just about to start down the stairs when she jumped! She had just felt someone caress her silk- covered buttocks! She whirled around and found herself face to face with the short catering girl from yesterday! "Oh God! It's you!" she sputtered, not knowing what to do next in her embarrassment at meeting someone who had so recently taken such intimate advantage of her. "Happy to see you again, too!" the girl beamed, her hands on Cynthia's waist. "Too busy for anything now, love. Just wanted you to know you look absolutely smashing! If you need to see me later, ask anyone for Penelope. I'll be working the bars. Ta!" "OH!" the startled Cynthia gasped as Penelope, rising on her toes, kissed her full on the lips, while at the same time sneakily tweaking the unsuspecting teenager's vulnerable nipples through the thin silk. Before Cynthia had a chance to protest, Penelope had quickly vanished down the stair case leading to the kitchen. The terribly flustered girl could only stand there, dumbfounded. She looked wildly around the corridor to see if anyone had seen what had just taken place. Relieved, she saw that she was still completely alone. Cynthia took a deep breath and once again tried to compose herself, but without success. She looked down and saw with horror that the nipples on her high-set breasts, now obviously very erect, were clearly visible through the silk. "Oh, no!" she thought. "Now what am I supposed to do?" She knew that she just had to go down now. She could not stall any longer and expect to live through the night without her parents killing her. She was probably in serious trouble already. Well, she would just have to keep her arms crossed over her chest, that's all, until her naughty nipples shrank to a more respectable size. She hurried on down the steps, not concerned with making an entrance anymore. At the bottom of the stairs, Cynthia entered the madhouse of the front foyer. There were people packed everywhere, with caterers weaving their way through the crowd of new-comers carrying silver trays loaded with drinks and hors d'oeuvres. Her mother, standing by the open front double doors, caught her eye during a gap in the crowd and curtly motioned for her daughter to join her. Cynthia took her place alongside that of her mother, and automatically started to greet the new arrivals. "What the fuck are you wearing?" her mother whispered bitterly into her ear during a brief lull between arrivals. "It's a gown, Mom. An evening gown." "No shit. No wonder you wouldn't let me see what you were wearing tonight. That dress is a bit much even for you, don't you think?" "It's just a gown, Mom. It's no big deal. Really." "Sure. Just remember that when your father has his stroke tonight." "Mom!" "Well, too late now. Since you're finally here, take over while I check on the caterers." Cynthia stood alone at the door, the official greeter for the party's incoming hordes of people. The reactions her gown drew from just about everyone astonished the teenager. She saw some pretty slinky outfits walk through the door, but she could honestly feel that her appearance topped them all. Cynthia began to feel that she truly was the Belle of the Ball! In her first twenty minutes at the door, she received eight proposals of marriage, fifteen requests to meet with someone in one of the upstairs bedrooms later on in the evening, and one discrete offer to spend two weeks at a villa in Maui. Her plan to keep her chest covered quickly fell apart with the need to continuously welcome people to her home. Everyone wanted to shake her by the hand, sometimes joyously enough to cause her breasts to really shake and shimmy under her bodice. Of course, all that movement just caused her nipples to grow still harder and even more erect than before. At seven, with relief, Cynthia closed and locked the double doors. Her father's one firm rule for the party was that no guest be admitted to the house after that time. This evening, she hadn't had a single person come in for over fifteen minutes before she had to lock the doors. When guests were supposed to leave was another matter. She knew overnighters were encouraged, especially if great distances and/or alcohol were involved. These affairs could continue throughout the night, lasting as long as the participants desired. Parties until dawn were not uncommon. Cynthia worked her way through the large crowd, playing the proper hostess, making a point to have a brief word with every group or even individuals who were standing alone. As it turned out, wherever she went, large crowds seemed to appear as if from nowhere. Regardless of how few people a room might contain, after Cynthia's arrival a crowd would always form and gather around her. Strangely, she had the oddest impression the people seemed intent on getting as close to her as possible, much closer then she had ever experienced at a party before. She could feel them physically pressing against her through the thin silk of her gown. She tried not to jump whenever a hand passed over her buttocks or grazed her breasts, but each happened a great deal as she made her rounds. It was not really surprising to the innocent teenager, what with the heavy crowds and all. It was having an effect on her, though. After a while, such unintentional contact started to take her breath away. She could feel the heaviness begin to build in her vagina, a sure sign her darned secretions were starting to flow again. She could only pray that the little protector would work as advertised and keep her from embarrassing herself and, more importantly, keep her from ruining her gown. As the evening progressed, Cynthia found herself receiving all kinds of offers to dance. She tried to politely limit them as much as possible to only the slow dances. She was becoming concerned of what too much perspiration would do to her beautiful gown. On the dance floor, she noticed that her partner's hand would inevitably stray from her waist, to an even much lower position down her hip, lower then even she would consider proper. At first, she couldn't comprehend what they were doing, then it struck her. They were feeling for her missing panties! She gave up dancing altogether after that. Finally, to Cynthia's relief, dinner was announced by caterers carrying small brass gongs. She knew that she would be sitting at a table which was thankfully on the opposite side of the pavilion from her father's. Her spot on the twenty-person table would be right between the Farland sisters, two sweet spinsters who, in their late 80's, were her father's oldest clients. Cynthia headed for her table in the pavilion, happy in the knowledge that she would be spending a peaceful hour or two away from the groping masses and be in the company of some of those few clients of her father's that she actually liked. She needed some quiet time anyway, she knew. She hadn't counted on how demonstrative everyone became around her because she was wearing the gown tonight. Just wearing the gown made her feel sexy, but after being unintentionally groped and fondled by the crowd all evening, she was feeling positively creamy inside, as well as being quite breathless. It was getting so bad she decided that, after dinner, she was going to sneak back upstairs and change her clothes for something, anything else. She felt even one of her comfortable bathing suits would probably be better for then the gown. At least that way she would possess the equivalent protection of having on panties and a bra! She was seated in her designated spot at the table, happily chatting to Ruth and Ester Farland, when Cynthia noticed her neighbor Kathryn, wearing a grim smile, take an empty seat directly opposite the table from her. "Uh-oh," thought Cynthia in dismay. "She's really pissed at me about something." She had forgotten all about Kathryn after leaving her at Bountiful Plantation yesterday. "Whatever happened there wasn't my fault," she thought. "I just went to pick up my gown, that's all." The fact that Cynthia didn't warn Kathryn of her own unusual experiences with the staff when she was there the day before, sat uneasily on her conscience. "It wasn't my fault," Cynthia said aloud. "What, dear?" asked Ester. "Nothing. Sorry," apologized Cynthia. Cynthia suddenly began to feel the faintest of tingles coming from her crotch, but it went away as quickly as it had begun. Probably vibration from someone walking behind her, she thought, and promptly forgot about it. As the dinner began to be served, Cynthia was mildly surprised that the strange feelings kept returning, and each time they lasted just a bit longer than before. She was so busy playing hostess and companion to the Farland sisters that it was some time before she realized the sensations between her legs were becoming quite a distraction. The vibrations, centered on her vulva, were continuous now, and were getting stronger. She finally realized what was happening to her. "Oh, my God!" she said unknowingly. It was her protector! It was vibrating!! Her vagina was throbbing like crazy and she tightly crossed her legs to try and stifle the growing sensations. "Oh my!" she thought desperately. Maybe it was full or something, and this was the alarm. She didn't remember Mickey saying anything about emptying the protector, but, dazzled by the gown, she hadn't really been paying any attention to her at the time. Regardless of the reason, though, the protector's vibrations were causing her some serious trouble. Cynthia could only keep what she hoped was an interested, calm look on her face as she fought to keep her body under control. "Please, God! Not here, not now!" she prayed reverently as the throbbings of her vagina started to reach overwhelming proportions. She knew her face was flush and that beads of sweat were forming along her hairline. She was having trouble catching her breath. Her crossed legs were dancing under the table in her increasing nervousness. Cynthia was helpless. Everyone was just starting their main course. If she got up from the table now, everyone, including her parents, in the pavilion would see her! But if she stayed...! Ruth reached with her right hand across the girl's chest to hand her sister a hankie. A heavy, ornate ring on her forefinger caught both of the unsuspecting Cynthia's highly erect nipples in passing. "OH!" grunted the stunned teenager, as stars appeared before her eyes. Ruth caught the vulnerable nipples again when she brought her hand back. Cynthia slumped back in her chair as her world quickly spun out of control. Ester placed a withered hand on the dazed Cynthia's right knee and cooed, "What a delightful dress you're wearing tonight, my dear. Isn't it simply delightful, Ruth?" "Oh, yes. Suits her perfectly." Ruth placed her right hand on the teenager's left knee and together the two old women began to pull up the girl's gown. Cynthia's gown was half-way up her thighs before she realized what was happening below the table. She looked with dazed amazement at Ruth and Ester. The two very old ladies were chattering contentedly just as they had been before, while her gown continued to inexorably rise on her legs. From their behavior no one would ever realize they were undressing her right there at the table. She automatically rose to flee when a short, powerful blast from the protector caused her to quickly sit again. That time she had almost climaxed right there! Cynthia looked down and saw with horror that her gown was now bunched up around her waist. The two sisters had used her failed escape attempt to pull her gown up past her hips. She pushed her chair as far under the table as it would go, then draped the hanging tablecloth around her as far as possible. She was now covered as much as was practicable, while the old ladies were now free to do whatever they wanted to her below the table. Dazed, she looked across the table and saw Kathryn laughing at her. "Kathryn!" she thought, stunned. "She knows what's happening? I don't believe it! Why doesn't she help me, then?" Thought failed her as two strong, rough hands dipped between her smooth upper thighs and pressed tightly against her protector! "We have to lose this now, my dear," Ruth told the noncomprehending teenager as she and Ester gently pried the still vibrating protector away from Cynthia's vulva. Cynthia looked with horror as Ester calmly examined the device on the table in front of her while Ruth gently ran her fingers up and down the trembling girl's labia. "Can't stand these newfangled hidden exciter-things," Ester said quietly. "We've always preferred a good old- fashioned dildo." With a flash, Ester expertly threw the protector across the large table to the waiting Kathryn. "Thanks, honey. You've been swell," Ester told the smiling Kathryn. "You are welcome, ma'am," said Kathryn, and she walked around the table toward the shocked Cynthia, laughing. When she reached where Cynthia was sitting, she stood behind her. "You left me there," Kathryn told her with quiet despair. "You left me alone with those... those people!" She sobbed once, then recovered her composure. "They told me you did it deliberately too, to lower the cost of your gown. My old friend. You set me up, you bitch! Well, two can play at that game," Kathryn whispered furiously as she held her hands in front of the stricken girl and opened them. In Kathryn's right hand Cynthia was embarrassed to recognized her crotch protector. In her left hand was some kind of controller. "You know what they say. 'Payback's a bitch.' Well, here I am!! When they gave me the chance to get even with you, I jumped at it. With this remote, I've been turning you on all night with the hidden exciter you were stupid enough to wear. You never even noticed it, did you?" "Well ladies," Kathryn whispered to Ruth and Ester, "she's all primed and yours for the taking!" Ruth placed her mouth close to Cynthia's left ear. "I have a message for you from Mickey," she whispered as she inserted three fingers deep into Cynthia's steaming cunt. "UH!" Cynthia gasped at the unexpected intrusion. "She sends you her regards and hopes you're enjoying the gown. She also said to tell you that you'll be spanked very soon for all the times you forgot to say "ma'am" to her yesterday. Knowing Mickey as I do, if I were you I'd plan on not being able to sit for a long while." Ester's left hand joined her sister's right hand between the girl's thighs under the table. Soon Cynthia had six fingers deep within her, all expertly teasing the walls of her helpless vagina, while the digits still outside her cunt were busy on her vulva and clitoris. The teenager could only groan helplessly as she was deftly fondled, held on the edge but never allowed to pass the boundary into the blissful release of an orgasm. To the discrete inquiries being made about the strange behavior of their host's beautiful daughter, Ruth and Ester would sweetly explain that Cynthia had a mild touch of the flu (the poor thing) and it would be better if everyone just kept their distance from her for the remainder of the meal. Not to worry, though. She had placed herself into their capable hands and would be well taken care of. Finally, dessert was being served. The Farland sisters were from a family who really enjoyed their sweets. They deliberately brought the panting Cynthia to her long deigned climax! They had thoughtfully laid some linen napkins earlier on the girl's seat, to absorb any lubricants she might expel when she was finally allowed her moment. Cynthia groaned and shuttered her way uncontrollably through her orgasm, while the Farland sisters had to explain to everyone that Cynthia was just demonstrating a scene she had really liked from some movie she had recently seen. Convincing, wasn't she? Cynthia, when she could think again, sat at the table feeling terribly, terribly humiliated. She had embarrassed herself again, and in a tent full of people this time. What was wrong with her, she wondered. What was wrong? She continued to sit until everyone seated at her table had left. When she was alone, she rose up slightly and smoothed her gown down past her hips legs before sitting again. Cynthia wondered what to do. The excitement of the party had faded, and she really didn't want to mingle with these people any more. Even the joy of wearing her gown had fallen from her. Yet, after vaguely remembering receiving some disquieting message from Mickey, she didn't want to be alone tonight. The answer was obvious. She would, avoiding crowds by taking back-ways whenever possible, return to the sanctuary of her room. There she would clean up (she must look frightful after all this), carefully put the gown away and never look at it again for the rest of her natural life, change into a sensible swim suit (she must have one somewhere!) and beach robe, and hang out at the pool all evening. There were always swimmers hanging around and it was far enough away from the outside band and refreshment tables that it was a fairly peaceful place to be. Her parents would just have to do without her help this year, that's all. She had had enough excitement for one night, thank you, and was looking forward to spending the rest of the evening drinking wine by the pool. End Part V -- +----------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `--------------+ | | | | Archive site +----------------------+--------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | ----