Party Pussies 1.

We undressed. Petra unlocked our cell. We went back up the steps to the surface of the earth. Alfonse went first, opening the storm doors of the cellar for us. Daylight flooded the steps and, climbing, we emerged into it. I was nude. We had no clothes. I embraced myself, covering my breasts. My pussy hairs tasted sunlight. I dipped one of my hands down, covering them. I saw field hands out in the corn, spraying it, to keep off the bugs. I felt the sun on my face. The morning breeze was cool. It did not carry the scent of the spray with it that the field hands were using, and I was grateful for that. Feeling awkward, I moved with the group round the house, to its front. We entered through the front door, much as we had the previous evening, save we were all naked now, and spent. I wished to leave, knew I could not. I was too sore. I needed too much to sleep. We went upstairs. Petra sought me at the top of the stairs, gave me a kiss. I did not resist. I was too tired. “Do you wish to sleep with me?” she asked. “No,” I answered. “Alright,” she said. There was a note of disappointment on her voice. “I’ll send in the maid to oil and rub your bottom,” she told me. “Yes. Thank you,” I answered. It was the least she could do, I thought, after cropping it so severely. I walked into a bedroom. A bed was already unmade for me, the covers drawn down to the foot of the bed. The sheets were fresh, waiting. I flopped into it. I landed on my belly, on purpose. I dare not lay on my back. I felt someone flop into the bed beside me. I didn’t wish to see who. I was too sleepy. I buried my face in the bed’s pillow. I kept my eyes closed, seeking sleep, wishing for it to come, to take me away, to keep me forever. “Yeek!” A hand on my bottom. My head flew up. My mouth gasped. My eyes opened. “Relax, dear,” a female voice said. It sounded old, middle-aged at least. It was the maid. “Yes,” I breathed. “Sorry,” I apologized. I placed my face into my pillow again. But I bit it, this time, knowing her touch would hurt. I felt a cold squirting. Cream. She was squirting cream on my derriere. I shivered. Even that hurt, a little. Then her fingers. I bit my pillow hard. Gently she began rubbing me. On my fanny, my seat. I should have kept my panties on. I shouldn’t have run away from home. Now I was lying here, in the home of a woman I didn’t know the last name of, having to get my bare bottom rubbed down, to heal it from a cropping she’d given me. I promised myself I’d go home as soon as I wakened. In the evening I woke. I saw it was growing dark. For a moment I thought it was growing light, then I realized dusk was setting in. For a moment I thought I had to dress for school, eat my breakfast, catch the bus. Then, just as I realized the light was fading, not growing, I sat up in my bed. It wasn’t my bed. Just on loan, and as my bottomcheeks felt the sheet underneath them I let out a shout. Laughter, from another room. Petra entered. She was carrying a small whip. She was nude, otherwise, but her hair was done up, and decorated with barrettes and small bows. “Oh, sleepyhead, you’ve finally wakened,” she smiled. “Yes,” I answered. I frowned. My bottom was still quite raw. “Turn over. Let me see what I did to you,” Petra said. “No,” I replied. But she walked right up to me, and put a hand on my shoulder. Before I could resist, (did I wish to?) she rolled me onto my tummy. “Ummm, yes. What a nice little seat you have. And nicely striped now.” She stroked it. I shivered under her touch. But I managed not to cry out. My bottom was healing, slowly. It hadn’t been hurt as much as I’d feared. “Another few hours, a day at most, and it will be all white again,” Petra assured me. Playfully, then, she brought her whip, which had many thongs, down across my back. “There is still much of you that might bear up well under punishment,” she told me. “No,” I said. I turned my head. I wriggled, lying flat on the bed. I felt my bosoms, and the hollow mound of my pussy, pressing into the sheets. I liked, somehow, her promise of torment, but I didn’t want it. I slid my hands down my thighs. I felt a desire to touch myself, but kept my hands, chastely, on the outside of my flanks. “Just– just my bottom,” I said. “When it’s better.” “Yes, when it’s better,” Petra answered. “How sweet your seat is. You should go look at it in the mirror, really, before all my marks fade.” “Yes. I will,” I said. “I will.” I hoped she’d leave me. She bent down, instead. “Oh!” I cried. Her lips kissed my bare ass. “You have such a lovely bottom,” she said. “Thank you,” I replied. She departed. With her whip lofted over her shoulder, the bare thongs trailing down her nude back, she left me. I watched her bottom as she departed. It wriggled salaciously, as nude as my own, as if she knew my eyes would be watching it. At the door she turned. I hid my eyes in my pillow, not wanting her to know I’d been watching her rump. “Bye,” she said. But her voice was hopeful. I knew she wished for me to join her soon, downstairs. Her fingers were itching to find new ways to torture me. The night deepened. I rose and bathed. I opened a window in the bathroom, heard the night sounds. The owl was back. Had it found prey the previous night? Was it out now, looking for more? There were no clothes for me to wear. I searched a dresser, found only men’s clothes. Perhaps Alfonse and Rico slept here, when there were no guests. I shuddered. I was glad they hadn’t taken the liberty of joining me in their bed, as I slumbered through the long hours of the day. Where had they slept? No matter. Perhaps it was downstairs, on a couch. Someplace. It didn’t matter. I cared nothing for them. But I had a bit of respect for them, for they were doomed to be servants, all their lives, something I’d never have to be. I was free. I had my beauty. My youth. I could play. I brushed my hair. There was a small makeup kit in the bathroom. Perhaps Varona had left it there for me. I did my eyes, put on lipstick. I felt my hand shiver a little as I applied my lipstick. Who would kiss these lips, tonight? Tom? Ginger? Petra? Bow? No, not her. I at least would not stoop to playing her naughty games. Let Bethany lick her snatch, if she wished. I was too grown up for that. I knew better. “Hi!” I heard a small voice say. I looked away from the bathroom mirror. It was her. Little Bow, standing at the door to the bathroom. As I turned her eyes flitted over my body. I saw longing in her eyes, searching. She gazed at my bosoms jealously. “A few more years,” I said to her. “A few more years and you will have tits of your own.” “But I want them NOW!” she said in a high, demanding voice. “You’re too young,” I replied. “I’m only 8,” she agreed, glumly. “You should be playing paddycake, or playing with Barbi, and Ken, not with whips and chains,” I told her. “But I DO play with Barbi and Ken,” Bow replied. “And I want tits, just like Barbi has. Big ones. Like yours.” “Mine aren’t as big as Barbi’s,” I told her. Then I looked down at them. They were… larger. Had they been growing, under all the male attention I’d been getting? They did seem bigger. Definitely. What would my mom say if, when I came home, none of my bras fit me anymore? “Can I lick your snatch?” Bow asked me. There was politeness in her voice. I think she thought I’d say ‘yes.’ “No,” I answered. I drew close to her and touched her head. Her hair was long, blonde. Almost down to her waist. “You should get your hair cut. It’s summer. You’d be cooler, that way,” I told her. But immediately I knew it was only jealousy that I felt. “No,” I added, stroking my fingers through her hair. “Keep it that way. You’re prettiest with it that way.” Bow touched my belly. “You got fucked last night,” she said to me. She looked up at my eyes. “Will you get pregnant now?” I laughed. “I hope not!” I told her. I frowned, a little. When had I last taken my pill? At Robin’s? Yes, I think so. I certainly didn’t want to bear Tom’s child. We had only been… playing. A quick fuck, nothing more. And I didn’t exactly have a choice about it, with my knees hung up over the log, and my pussy defenseless. “Here,” Bow told me. She opened her hand. She’d been holding something in it, I saw. A small blue pill. “Petra told me to tell you to swallow this.” “Oh. Thanks,” I said. It was a pill. To keep me from getting pregnant. The night promised that, I suppose, although if I’d been given a chance to leave, I would have left, instead. I preferred Robin. Just Robin, and Bethany, I guess, since she was my friend. Although I would have left her behind too if I could have. I went to the sink. There was a glass in the cupboard. It had paper over it, just like in a hotel. Verona was thoughtful. She knew how to take care of her guests. Petra’s guests, actually. I removed the paper from the glass. I filled it under the tap. I swallowed my pill. I brushed back my hair. Was I ready? Ready for the night? I had no clothes on. Perhaps I was ready, then, whether I wished to be or not. Swallowing my pill, I turned to Bow. She smiled at me. It was a simple girl’s smile, an 8-year-old’s smile. I ran my hands down my smooth, taut belly. A sparkle of mischief came into Bow’s eyes. She knew where babies came from. “You’d best be good, or you’ll need a pill too,” I warned her. “I’m only eight,” Bow replied, matter-of-factly. Then she looked up at me. Her eyes were sincere. “How many babies do you want to have?” she asked. “None!” I answered. “Oooh, I want to have lots of babies,” Bow said. She jabbed her belly button with her finger. “Then I can have fun feeding them all, and putting diapers on all of them.” “Yes,” I answered. “You’d be quite busy then. You’d have no time for playing in dungeons.” “I know. I’d be a mommie then,” Bow agreed. “But in the meantime, wanna see my teddy bear? He’s my pretend baby. His name is Bert!” “Bert?” I laughed. “Like Bert and Ernie on Sesame Street?” “Yes,” Bow said. She moved closer. Her breath exhaled on my belly. She plucked at my pubic hair with her fingers, a bit curiously, for she herself had none. “I wanted to call him Ernie, but my friend Sally’s teddy bear is named Ernie. So I called mine Bert. There’s one for you too, if you’d like to be his mommie.” “What’s his name?” I asked. “I dunno,” she replied. Gently Bow slid a finger under my sex, stroked my feminine lips, felt (I imagine) their wetness. She did not say anything. “Well, that’s just as well. Then I can name my bear,” I replied. “Yes!” Bow agreed. “That’s what we’ll do. My bear is Bert, and you have to name yours.” “Okay,” I answered. Bow withdrew her finger from under my pubic lips and curled it around the thumb of my hand. “C’mon,” she invited. We left my bedroom. We padded down the hall, both of us barefoot, me fresh from my bath, and Bow, though I guessed she’d been put in the bath, reluctantly, smelling sweetly of Mr. Bubble. Bow invited me into her bedroom. It had a big bed. Bow hopped up on it and began jumping up and down. Her blonde tresses flew up and down with her bouncing figure. She grinned happily. She was oblivious to the nudity of her snatch, of her bare budding titties, of her long lean little girl legs. “Bow! Stop!” I cried. Why do adults always stop the young in their fun? I don’t know. I guess I was afraid she’d go bouncing right off the bed, and break one of her long lovely legs when she landed on the floor. Beds weren’t made for jumping on, anyway. “WHEEEE! I can jump on my bed if I wanna!” Bow cried. She continued her display. So, in hopes of distracting her into quieter pursuits (I worried the men might think I was jumping up and down with her), I sidled over to her vast collection of stuffed animals. That brought her running. With a proprietor’s eye, Bow jumped down from her bed and came hurrying over to assist me in interacting with her collection. “This is Quigley, and Junior, and Beanie,” Bow told me. She named off all her stuffed animals, introducing me to each of them. I nodded my head. I noticed two of them, big teddy bears, had straps on their backs. Bow took one down. She shouldered it and slipped it onto her back. “See? I can wear Bert as a caboose!” Bow told me happily. I laughed. “You mean a papoose!” I replied. “You can wear the other one. What name are you going to give it?” Bow asked me. “I don’t know,” I replied. I took down the other big bear with straps on its back. “What name do you think would be best for it?” Bow drew close. She made me bend down. She whispered in my ear. “How about Robin?” Bow asked. “Oh.” I answered. “Is that the name you’d like me to give it?” “Yes,” she said. “But don’t tell him. We’ll let it be a surprise.” “Okay,” I said. “And one thing more,” Bow added. “Robin’s big thing leaks a lot, and shoots sometimes too. We need to put diapers on him!” “I agree!” I laughed. “Do you have any diapers?” “Yes. Right here,” Bow said. She opened a dresser drawer, still wearing her teddy bear. It flopped on her back, grinning at me when she wasn’t. Bow took out diapers. She had pins to go with them. “Here,” she said. We knelt on the floor. It was immaculately clean. I sat with my bottom wedged between my heels, leaving space between it and the floor. It still hurt from the cropping Petra had given me. Tenderly, with only the care two girls can give, we diapered my bear. Robin. We pinned up his diapers and adjusted them so they wouldn’t fall down, revealing the (admittedly neutered) space between his legs. “There,” Bow said, finally. “Robin will get a big surprise when he finds out we named this bear after him, and had to diaper him too!” “What about your bear?” I asked. I brushed my long hair back from my face. We both enjoyed, I think, this quiet respite from men and their demands. We were just two little girls, playing, her with breasts just starting to grow and me, at 13, with breasts that were embarrassingly large. “My bear’s a girl bear,” Bow replied seriously. “But your bear is named Bert!” I said. “That’s just her pretend name, so boys think she’s a boy, and don’t pick on her,” Bow said. “Really her name is Priscilla.” “Okay,” I said. I was beginning to feel a bit confused by all her childish thinking. Suddenly I wanted to be with adults. I could hear them downstairs, talking. But I liked my new bear. I decided to bring it along. I picked it up, diapers ringing its waist (though I myself was nude), and put it onto my back. It wore like a backpack. I reached up and held the straps that slung down over my front. Between my hands my boobs jiggled nakedly. “These bears will protect us, and keep us safe!” Bow assured me. “You’ll be safest if you tuck yourself into bed and go to sleep,” I told her. “It’s after 8:30.” “Oh, pooh!” Bow replied. She exhaled her breath loudly, saying it, blowing her blonde hair away from her eyes and her face. “I go to bed only when my teddy gets tired.” “And your muffin?” I asked. She looked up at me. “My muffin never gets tired,” she replied. But I don’t know, given her childishness, if we were actually taking about the same thing. We trooped downstairs. Our bears flopped amiably on our backs. I felt the fur of mine pressing softly against my back, my hair hanging down over it, giving it the appearance of wearing a wig. Bow wore hers a little more considerately. Her bear was neatly hung outside her long mane of hair. It pushed her hair up a little, giving it a fuller appearance. My boobs bounced easily as we descended the stairs in the nude. Petra and her guests looked up at us. I smiled, lowered my eyes. I felt soft. I was bare. I would be a girl again, and the men would have to treat me with the utmost deference. “Hi,” I whispered, when Bow and I had reached the bottom of the stairs and approached the men. I smiled a little at Robin. I did not know who the other man was. I did not see Tom, or Ginger. But Petra was there, and a new female. Petra wore riding gear, as if fresh from riding. Her new female companion wore a light party dress. It was cut low in front, showing her bosoms, almost right down to the points of her titties. It was easy to see that she wore no bra between her dress and her breasts. The sides of her dress were slit, revealingly, almost up to her hips. Yet she had her legs crossed, as if in a half-hearted attempt to retain her modesty after letting herself be brought all the way out to Petra’s estate. The new man, whose name I didn’t know yet, whose face and figure I still was apprising, shyly, as I stood next to Bow with my teddy bear, wore a suit. He’d taken off his jacket and loosened his tie. I thought I saw a bulge in the front of his trousers. But didn’t want to look too closely. I was innocent. I liked being a little girl again. Yet, strangely, to be totally a little girl, like Bow, I had to be unaware of my nudity. I stood easily, next to her, letting my pussy show, hoping I looked artless. “Turn around,” Petra told me. “Show our new friends your bottom.” She motioned at me with a riding crop she held. She adjusted the peaked rider’s crop on her head. I obeyed. I was submissive. I felt my bottomcheeks clench as I turned. I didn’t want to show my hiney! I heard the female guest gasp. “Would you like to have a red bottom, like she has?” Petra asked the young woman matter-of-factly. “A-a little,” the woman gushed. Her voice sounded shivery. “I’d like to see it,” the new man said. Was he her husband, or just her boyfriend? Why did he need to bring her all the way out here to redden her ass? Was she recalcitrant? Did she prohibit him, yet remain willing, if he could connive it, to submit to a proper mistress in a proper dungeon? “Let’s see what sort of color your ass has to it right now,” Petra told the new female guest. I turned back around. I faced them. The female looked up at Petra, wide-eyed, clutching a drink. Petra took it from her hand. With a sudden motion, Petra threw the drink into the woman’s face. “Oh!” the woman cried. Liquor spilled down from her eyes and her cheeks and splashed onto her bosom. Neatly, with perfect decorum, Petra placed the woman’s empty glass on a low table next to her chair. “My, I’m sorry, dear. I seem to have wet your dress,” Petra said. She bent over the woman. She reached down and, grabbing her dress by its front, she tore it open. The woman gasped anew. Her breasts, bare and jiggling, were revealed to our eyes. They were fine young teats, full and with perfect, pointed tips to them. They looked like bosoms that would surely have babies clamoring to suckle from them in a few short years. For a moment, I wished I could be one of her future babies, though I had fine uptilted breasts of my own. Petra took the woman’s hand. “Stand up, Annette,” Petra told her. With her face still wet from her drink, Annette stood. Swiftly Petra tore the remains of her ruined dress from her hips. Annette watched the dress fall to her ankles. Reluctantly she stepped out of it. “Oh, yes. How white your bottom is!” Petra said. She turned Annette so her back faced her. She patted her fanny, lightly. Annette flinched. It was a high, round bottom, perfect, I suppose, from the male point of view, for fucking. “Come. I want you to meet another anal virgin, like yourself,” Petra told Annette. She drew the young woman over to me! I stood staring up at her, being a little shorter than her, for I was 13, she perhaps 19, or 20. Petra introduced us. We were both nude, our hair pretty, our makeup perfect (though Annette’s face still glistened with her spilt liquor). Our bosoms poked at each other. “Yes, you will both lose your anal virginity tonight,” Petra assured us. I was still feeling too submissive to try to contradict her. Annette gazed at me, I gazed meekly back. “Kiss, both of you,” Petra said. “Greet each other with your lips and your bodies. This is no ordinary party. You’ll be spending the night together. Get to know one another!” Petra pressed upon each of our bottoms. Her hands were gloved. Our tushies were bare. The touch of her glove on my ass made me wince. (Though more from fear, I think, than from real pain, for my bottom was healing quickly.) Annette let herself be pushed toward me. I was the same, letting myself be pushed toward her. Suddenly, impulsively, our arms embraced each other. Mine slipped around her waist. Hers slipped around mine. I thought I heard Bow, watching, gasp. My lips touched Annette’s. We kissed. Her lips opened to mine. Her tongue extended, tentatively, out to my lips. I opened my mouth. Her tongue jabbed in, looking for my tongue. I let her find it. We dueled a little, with our tongues, as we stood there kissing. Our breasts rubbed. Our nipples, hard and pointed, tried to penetrate each other’s bosoms. Our bellies, beginning to aquire a sheen of desire-induced sweat, pressed together. I wished she had a penis. I guess she wished the same of me. But we were just two girls, exploring, letting our bodies mold pleasurably for the delight of the men. I tilted my head. I let her tongue invade more deeply. I felt her gasp. Her breath entered my mouth. Was she excited by my submissiveness? Yet, when I pushed her tongue back with my own, she relented, let me enter her. We were both submissive. I stuck my tongue far in her mouth and she gasped again. Ah, I liked the taste of her, so sweet and soft, so pliant. “Ouch!” Annette suddenly cried. Had I hurt her? I felt her face pull away. I looked at her worriedly. Then I saw, from the corner of my eye, Petra’s crop uplifted. I remembered the sound of leather against bare flesh, applied smartly. Petra had given Annette’s bottom an admonitory whack. I was glad she hadn’t hit me. I’d had enough of her crop. “I didn’t tell you to mate with each other,” Petra laughed. Annette let go of me. Her hands flew to her bottom and she massaged it, though she’d only been struck lightly. Was it her first taste of the whip? Of being spanked? I could only guess and wish, ruefully, that I was as innocent as she of such things. I reached back and rubbed my own bottom. Petra admired us, both females under her control, both assauging our bare asses in front of her. “Yes, I think you will both train very well,” Petra said. She spoke as if we were horses. Young mares. “Where is Tom?” I asked her. “You will have a new penis tonight, plunging into your bottom, breaking you in,” Petra answered me. With a sense of fright I turned my head. I looked at the new man. He was handsome, but I didn’t even know his name! Gallantly, sitting on the sofa with his legs crossed, he saluted me with a wave of his hand. His legs were crossed in the manly way, one perpendicular to the other, not parallel, as a woman crosses her legs. Within the large space left by his crossed legs I could see his crotch. It was bulging quite visibly now. Robin, my beau, was barechested. Apparently, as Petra had been doing her riding, he had been tasked with cleaning out her stables. Now, freshly bathed (for so I surmised, looking at him), he wore a fresh pair of jeans, buttoned around his waist, but was barefoot, and still barechested, as if he might be called again to go clean the stables some more. (All this I guessed, piecing it together from the conversations we’d had, as we’d chatted the night before. Petra had said she wanted to do some riding. She’d asked Robin if he’d clean her stables for her. He’d nodded, politely, but with, I thought, a desire to be submissive to her in his eyes.) Bethany appeared. She walked in from the kitchen, nude as myself and Bow. She was munching on animal crackers. She didn’t know there was company, I guess (perhaps she’d been watching T.V. in the den). When she saw the new man amongst us, she started. She clapped a hand to her muff. Petra smiled. “Go fetch us a bottle of baby oil, dear Beth,” Petra said matter-of-factly to the girl. “We’re going downstairs to the dungeon in a minute.” “I’m watching Gilligan’s Island,” Bethany replied. “You can see Gilligan later,” Petra said. “But it’s the episode with the Tiki bird in it,” Bethany said. “The baby oil, darling,” Petra said. She flexed her crop in her hands, made sure Bethany saw her doing it. “Oh!” Bethany declared. “All we do is fuck, fuck, fuck! I want to watch Gilligan’s Island!” And she turned, hotly, and hurried away, leaving half an animal cracker on the rug. She’d dropped it when Petra told her we were going down to the dungeon. “I shall get the oil,” Petra told us. She flexed her crop again. “Bow, you’re in charge. Tell them a story while I get us some oil.” “Okay!” Bow announced. All eyes turned to her. We were, as all guests are, deferential to the demands of a child. “Once upon a time my teddy bear — wait–.” She took off her bear. She displayed him to us, especially to the men, and Annette, who hadn’t been introduced to him yet. “My teddy bear — his name is Bert — and he has a secret name too, but I can’t tell it. Anyway, Bert was going over to his friend Sally’s house. That’s ‘cause her teddy bear is named Ernie. Bert and Ernie, see?” Beth said happily. Just then Petra returned. She had a new bottle of Johnson and Johnson’s baby oil in her hands. Her reappearance ended Bow’s story. The girl seemed not to mind. She had said all she could think of, I think. Her story had yet to be imagined, as most children’s stories are, being made up as they go along. Petra walked over to Annette’s beau. She flipped open the top of the brand new bottle of baby oil. She bent. She undid the man’s zipper. I still didn’t know his name. Petra pointed her bottle of baby oil at the hole left in the man’s crotch by the undoing of the his zipper. The man’s underpants bulged through the hole. Petra aimed. She squirted. “Hey! These are expensive pants!” the man protested. “Oh. Expensive underpants. How nice,” Petra said. She kept squirting, a long, lucid squirt that went all over the bulge the man was presenting through his crotch. “Not my underpants, my pants!” the man said. “Oh, you want baby oil squirted on your pants?” Petra asked. “Ah, God!” the man said. He stood bolt upright. Petra was thrown back by his sudden movement. I thought he might hit her. He looked quite strong. Instead, he reached down for his belt. He undid it. Then he shoved down his trousers. His underpants went down next. I gave a startled gasp. The man’s penis was huge! Not bigger than Robin’s, I don’t think. Perhaps just a little. It waggled at Petra. Completely nonplussed, though he possessed quite a monster, she aimed her bottle of baby oil once more at his loins. This time, since he was barehipped now, when she squirted she hit him right on the tip of his dick. “I’m just making you nice and wet, darling,” Petra told the man with a sly smile. “And what about you?” he asked. He clearly had an admiration for her. Petra lifted off her cap. Her long brown hair had been piled under her cap but, when she took it off, her hair spilled all down her shoulders. It was glossy, curly. Petra kept squirting the man’s penis. She squirted all the way along his shaft. When she’d finally gotten him dripping wet, she squirted underneath him, on his balls. “I don’t fuck with those,” the man told Petra. She laughed. She enjoyed squirting him. I think she would have squirted him all over, if she could. But there was still Robin to attend to. My boyfriend undid his jeans. I watched. My breath caught in my throat when he lowered them. He was nude underneath. He wore no underpants. I heard Annette emit an appreciative sigh. Robin’s bare buns were tight, small. They stood out like twin white muffins. His legs were hairy and tanned. Robin kicked off his jeans. He was utterly naked now. Petra approached him. “Such an eager boy!” Petra complimented Robin. Even standing almost behind him, as Annette and I were, we could see the prominence of his cock sticking out. Not all of it, of course. Just the tip. It wiggled, involuntarily. Petra anointed his purplish knob with a squirt of baby oil. “Ah,” Robin said. He flinched a little, as the baby oil struck him. I wondered what it felt like, having a big dick like that, being squirted down. I would never know. I was made to receive, not to present. Lovingly Petra bathed Robin’s penis completely in baby oil. Then she turned to me. “You’re next,” Petra said. She made me bend my knees and open my dell for her. I gasped. She squirted baby oil into my slit. Annette was next. The men watched. When Petra had finished, she asked us to wait while she undressed. Our eyes shifted to her. Slowly she took off her clothes. “Are you men ready for our party tonight?” Petra asked. She liked winning their attention and keeping it. As if her pinup poster body wasn’t enough already. She slipped off her riding jacket. She unbuttoned her blouse. “Well, it’s going to be a long party, that I can assure you. I hope you’re both up to it.” She glanced slyly at Robin. He’d been worked last night, perhaps again while I slept. “There’s only two of you, you know. And all us females. We’ll be expecting a lot of you boys.” Petra finished undressing. She replaced her riding cap on her head. She didn’t bother to pile her hair underneath it again. She kept on a red neckerchief that she’d tied around her neck. On her hands she retained leather gloves. They were short. They only covered her hands and her wrists. I liked them. They looked pretty on her. But I was a little afraid of them too, for they made her look quite commanding. On her feet she kept her knee-length rider’s boots. She picked up her crop. Petra swished her crop through the air. She looked at Annette. “Yes, dear. It’s time you felt this,” she said to the young woman. “You’ve the perfect bottom for it. Really. Let me see?” She stalked round behind Annette. The girl clasped her arms over her bosoms, hiding them, but leaving her bare ass sticking out for Petra to inspect. “Ahhh, so pretty. And it will be so red and sore after we’re through tonight. Won’t it, Luke?” Petra asked Annette’s boyfriend. “Yeah,” Luke grinned. Petra swung the crop, moderately hard, and struck Annette on her fanny. “Ouch!” Annette blurted. Immediately her hands flew to her behind. She rubbed it. “Mmmm. That’s just the first of many,” Petra assured Annette. The girl looked at her beau. He only grinned back at her. I stood back a little from Annette. I was afraid I might get smacked too. “Annette, would you please pour more drinks for the men? I have to be absent a minute,” Petra told the woman she’d just smacked. Annette gaped at her. “All is not punishment, my dear,” Petra told her. “The drinks. The maid has stepped out. Refill the men’s drink glasses. I’ll be back in a minute and then we’ll go downstairs.” Petra walked from the room. Beyond the big woolen throw rugs, the floor was bare tile. Her boots clicked loudly upon it. I saw her heading for the kitchen. The den was beyond. I guessed she was going to fetch Bethany. Annette, still shocked from her first taste of the leather on her behind, went to the wet bar and picked up a bottle of liquor. She came back, carrying it. “Who wants more gin?” she asked. “Me,” Robin told her. “Me,” Luke said. Carefully Annette refilled the men’s glasses. They had ice in them. The gin mixed with the melting ice. She rubbed her bare ass as she filled up their glasses. Then she went to her own. She poured more gin into her own glass. “Do you want some?” she asked me. “Sure,” I said. She went to the wet bar and got me ice. She scooped it out of the wet bar’s small freezer with her bare hands. She dropped the cubes in a glass for me. “Any mixer?” she asked. “Seven up,” I answered. “OWWWW!” came loudly from behind me. I turned. Petra had Bethany by the ear. “But I want to watch Gilligan’s Island!” Bethany yelled. I watched her boobies bounce on her chest. She wore no clothes. She was as naked as Bow and I, yet she chose to be difficult. I think she liked being that way sometimes. It made her special, in her mind. “Stand still. I have to squirt baby oil in your dell,” Petra told Bethany. The girl stopped. She looked down over her breasts at her tummy. “Bend your knees,” Petra said. Bethany, with a quick glance at me, obliged. Petra insinuated her fingers into the girl’s snatch. “OH!” Bethany cried. “Shhhh. I’m making you nice and wet,” Petra told the 12-year-old girl. “Make me wet too!” Bow said. “No, dear. You shouldn’t even be watching,” Petra answered. “You’re too little.” “I’m in third grade! That’s big enough! I know all about dicks and pussies!” Bow said. “There,” Petra said to Bethany. She ignored little Bow. She released Bethany’s cuntlips. “You’re up first tonight, dear. Did you take your pill?” “I think so…” Bethany said, wide-eyed. “Well, you’re going to be installed in the chair,” Petra said. “I hope for your sake you took your pill. You’re going to milk both men to make them less randy when they have to be put to Annette and Lisa.” Bethany looked at me. I returned her look of incomprehension. I didn’t know anything about a ‘chair.’ Or about what evils Petra had planned for myself and Annette. Except that I knew Annette’s bottom would be as red as the sunrise by morning. Petra had already promised that.