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Message-ID: <30196asstr$989410204@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "MARK  MERSEREAU" <m.mersereau@worldnet.att.net>
NNTP-Posting-Date: Fri, 04 May 2001 18:51:36 GMT
Subject: {ASSM} NEW Counterfeiters, Ch.2
Date: Wed,  9 May 2001 08:10:04 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

Attached is Chapter Two of "The Counterfeiters".  It's in MS Word format,
which presented problems when I sent in Chapter One; I hope results are
better this time.

Mark Mersereau


{ ASSM }  { Mersereau } New Story: "Counterfeiters, Chapter Two"
( MF FF   MF+ Mdom nc voy sm bd cheat oral toys ) (2/?)

The usual disclaimers: Strictly adult material.  All characters
are fictional.  No redistribution without attribution to the
above author.  No commercial use whatsoever of this story.

From: Mark Mersereau (m.mersereau@worldnet.att.net)

Subject: { ASSM } Counterfeiters 02  [Mersereau]  MF FF MF+  Mdom
nc oral voy sm bd cheat toys


The Counterfeiters

Chapter Two: A Little B&D

It was nearly noon when I went up to the bedroom to check on the
other two girls.    Stopping in the doorway, I paused to take in
the attractive sight.  Even though I'm partial  to women with
slender figures, I still appreciate the voluptuous ones, and both
coeds sitting on the bed fit the latter category. 

They were sipping glasses of water, each with her back against
the metal foot of the bed with her knees drawn up--necessarily,
since the length of the handcuff linking her ankle to the
bedframe was insufficient to give her another option.  Their
thighs, Avis's slender and shapely, Sheila's voluptuous, were my
main interest.  But I envied Renée's more strategic
position.  Holding a tray, she sat on the edge of the bed near
its head.  She had to be capable of viewing, if she wished, their
cunts.

"Nice thighs you have, girls," I said, entering.

Both abruptly pulled their skirts up to cover as much of their
legs as they could.  Neither girl's hem reached her knees,
however; so each had to hold it with her hand to maintain it.

Smiling at the effect my entrance had, Renée asked, "When
are you going to give them something to eat?".

"Soon.  I want to have a little talk with Avis first.  I'm taking
her into the bathroom with me."

"Oh?  Since when do you require privacy, Marc?"

Renée has quite a temper; so, rather than ignore her remark,
I responded--slightly mendaciously--with, "I don't want Sheila to
hear what we discuss."

"What I want to know," Avis interrupted with, "is when you're
going to let us go.  You've kept us overnight here already! 
Isn't that enough!?"

Sheila chimed in with, "You know, I'm afraid my folks will worry
about me.  They always do.  I never went on a vacation before
without them.  They know I'm with two friends from the sorority,
but they'll still worry.  I really have to phone them soon.  Mom
and Dad didn't like me to go down here without them.  Can I at
least use your phone?"

"Both of you shut up!" I said. 

"Sheila's telling the truth," Avis said, paying no attention to
my words.  "She called from Palm Beach International before we
picked up our bags, but she'll have to call her folks by
tomorrow.  Otherwise they might . . . I mean, they will, call the
police."  

"Listen, you two," I said, assuming a stern air,  "Your Arlene
has pissed me off enough.  I've given her a whipping once today,
and right now she's downstairs being punished some more.  You'll
get the same unless you shut up.  I don't want either of you to
talk unless I allow you to."

Sheila seemed shocked by my outburst, but  Avis appeared
unperturbed.

Tougher than I thought.  I guess her petite build is deceptive. 
Is she another Arlene? Unlikely, but we'll see.

"Now is as good a time as ever to inform you about your status
here.  The three of you caused me considerable trouble when you
broke into our house.  You've completely disrupted my plans for
the next two weeks and have made our usual activities, such as
household maintenance, more difficult for us.  Because of that,
you'll take over cleaning, washing dishes, and a few other
chores.  However, that won't be you're main activity . . ."

Avis interrupted with, "Housework is for servants!"

"Shut up!"  I glared at her and she quieted.

"If you girls were unattractive," I continued; "that might be all
we'd have you do, but since you're pretty . . ."  I hesitated,
wondering if they'd become even more obnoxious.

Tell them the truth; they  know it anyway.

"`Pretty' isn't the right word," I admitted.   "You're beautiful.
 Spoiled, perhaps, but still beautiful.  The benefit to us is
that, having you here, we can use you for sex.  You'll fulfill
our erotic fantasies."

Sheila  looked stunned.  

Avis, coolly raised her eyebrows.  

"You can't get away with it," she said.  "Our parents will expect
us to call.  Sheila is supposed to call her folks tomorrow.  And
the motel we're staying at will tell the police that we're not
there."

Sheila looked close to tears.  "Y-You said two weeks.  And also
twelve days. Which did you mean?  Will you let us go home then? 
D-Do you promise that you'll let us g-go?"

I nodded.  "I'm no kidnapper.  After all, you three fell into our
laps.  We had to  keep you once you broke in."

"Oh no you didn't!,"  Avis objected.  "You didn't call the police
or even our parents!  Our trying to crash a party isn't a big
deal; you should let us go right now!"

I glared at her.  She was pushing me.  Spoiled.  To some extent,
like Arlene.  Getting used to having her own way.  Not only
didn't I intend to answer her question, but I'd had enough
argument from her.  I had to make good on my promise of a few
minutes ago.

She'll become another Arlene if I don't.  

Avis turned to Renée, "Do you,  and the other people here
know about this crazy idea of his?!  He  can't keep  us here  for
. . .".

By this time I'd knelt to unlock the handcuff that held Avis's
right ankle to the bed.  I left the bracelet about her ankle but
undid its partner from the bar.  I grabbed her left arm and
pulled her from the bed.

"Just what do you think you're doing?" she asked, struggling
unsuccessfully to resist me.

"I'm going to give you what you've been asking for," I said,
calmly.

I carried her, squirming, to the foot of the bed, and I planted
her with her bare feet on the carpet, facing it.  I forced her to
bend over the horizontal bar that was its top and, grasping her
by her left wrist,  I pulled her arm under it.  I clipped the
loose cuff that dangled from her right ankle to her left wrist.

Having her where I wanted her for the nonce, I went to the
dresser for another pair of handcuffs and a suitable strap I 
could use to discipline her with.  

I paused for a moment, considering a heavier one in preference to
the light one I'd used on the redhead.  Using the latter had
required thirty blows rather than the ten or fifteen I'd expected
would be sufficient.  Finally, though, I considered Arlene's
ability to take all those body rings.  Avis probably didn't have
Arlene's insensitivity to pain, so I again selected the light
one. 

Sheila, with her more ample buttocks, might require a weightier
strap, assuming for some  reason she obliged me to whip her.  She
seemed the most docile of the three, so perhaps it wouldn't prove
necessary.

Not that I won't enjoy whipping her  if she gives me the
opportunity.

Avis, bent at the hips over the bar, had her head on the
counterpane, cheek down, close to Sheila.  Despite her awkward
position, she had twisted about enough to observe what I was
doing, intent on determining my intentions.   She watched,
wide-eyed, as I pocketed the strap and brought the handcuffs to
the bed.

I clipped a bracelet about her free right wrist, and with it
pulled her arm under the bar.  I attached its other end to her
unbound left ankle.  When I'd finished, she was completely
immobilized, unable to move either her legs or her arms, crossed
as they were, left wrist to right ankle and right wrist to left
ankle.

Her skirt, because of her position, had crept halfway up her
thighs.  I grasped its hem and pulled it all the way up her back,
baring her from her waist down to her feet.  My target, her
curvaceous buttocks, were naked, and eminently positioned for my
purpose.

I glanced at Renée.  She was watching, a smile of
anticipation on her face.  I think Renée derives as much
pleasure from watching me `D' a pretty girl as I derive from
doing it.

I turned to the blonde.  "You hold this hem and keep it up.  If
you're careless and drop it, I'll manacle you beside her.  Then
I'll have two delectable asses to whip."

She swallowed.  "I won't.  I promise."

I looked over the brunette's delectable rump.  Below the crevice
separating her creamy buttocks was an oval of black fur that
marked her outer labia and, projecting from between them, like
moist lips about to kiss, her pink inner ones.   

I thought about my whipping of Arlene.  Her arousal after I'd
finished had been a pleasant surprise, but I didn't know if the
whipping was its main cause.  Perhaps my use of the strap had
only maintained a stimulation that began when I'd bound and
stripped her.  

I knelt behind Avis.  I pressed my forefinger and center finger
against her soft inner lips and spread them.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, jumping at the contact.  She jerked her hips
forward.  In doing this, however, she not only failed to escape
from my hand, but succeeded only in striking her lovely knees
against the upright bars that supported the horizontal one.

I probed about, while she squirmed and protested.

"Stop it!  Don't do that! Will you stop doing that!  I said, stop
it!"

I found its hood,  but I was unable to find her clit.  I hadn't
really expected to.

I'll see if I can find it after I whip her.

I stood up.  Taking aim, I swung the strap.  It struck her fully
across her buttocks, and the blow produced a pleasingly loud
`crack!'.  Her buttocks shook like a dropped molding ofgelatine.

Although I'd applied it with enough force to sting, Avis's only
response was an "Um!"

I looked down at her face, still pressed cheek down on the
coverlet.  The first blow had caused her to close her eyes.

I struck her lower, closer to her thighs and her furry oval.  She
emitted another "Um!"

With her wrists bound to her ankles it was evident that any
attempt to dodge my blows would fail, so  I took my time.  I
aimed so as to avoid hitting her above her buttocks but had no
compunction about missing on the low side against her thighs. 
Nor did I strive to avoid the occasional misdirected blow that
brought the pointed tail of the strap into the sensitive region
of her furry oval.  The result of the latter induced a distinctly
different oral response from her; instead of the rather
noncommital, "Um!", she emitted a louder, "Ow!" and, squirmed as
much as her virtual immobility would permit.

Surprisingly, even when her rump became pinkish, Avis didn't
plead for me to stop.  In fact, her responses to each `whack!'
didn't deviate from `Um!' and the occasional, and to me more
satisfying, `Ow!'.

Finally I stopped.  Her ass was rosy.  Renée leaned forward.
  She pointed at the brunette's countence.  Avis's eyes were
still closed.  Tears had trickled out, wetting her cheeks and the
coverlet, but her lips were fixed in a smile.  I felt her
buttocks.  Warm.  She opened her eyes, saw me looking at her and
she blushed.

"Had enough?," I said.  

She put out her tongue.  "That was nothing!" she said.  "You're a
wimp!"

"Avis!" Sheila exclaimed.  "Don't be like that.  You're so
stubborn!  My mom and dad would ground me for a week if I acted
so pig-headed!  If you do, you know very well  that he'll just do
it some more!"

"You've had enough," I told the brunette.

Curious about the state of her cunt and clit, I grasped her furry
outer labia using the thumb and forefinger of each hand, and I
pulled them apart.

"Come here, Renée," I said.

She slid off the bed and stood beside me.  

"Oh my," she said, smiling.  She met my eyes.  "You or me?"

"Go ahead," I said.

She knelt and began to lick.  She moved her head in an oval that
matched the brunette's furry one, her outhrust tongue between the
girl's swollen inner lips, spreading them as she went.

Avis moaned.  

Sheila reddened.  She looked away. 

"How's her clit?" I asked.  I opened my fly and began fondling my
erect penis.

Renée drew back.  She glanced at my moving hand and gave me
a smile.  The odor of aroused female filled my nostrils.

"As big as my thumb."

"Bullshit!," I said.  "Let's see it."

Renée placed her two crimson-nailed forefingers between the
wet inner labia and spread them.  Avis moaned again, and she
attempted to move her hips back, to meet the fingers with her
excited button.

Her clitoris protruded completely from its hood, which now
appeared miniscule in comparison.

"It's the size of your pinky," I estimated, looking at them both.
 "But it's bigger than I expected it to be.  She's pretty perfect
in every way except for that oversized clit.  Probably she plays
with herself a lot."

"Should I let her come?"

I nodded.  Renée leaned forward, her lips pursed, and
pounced on the pink button.  She began to suck.  It was hardly a
few seconds before Avis emitted a cry, or rather a series of
cries:  "ah! ah!  ah!  ah! Ah! AH!  AH!   AAAAAAAAAH!!"

"That's enough," I said.  "Don't give her another."

* * *

"I've changed my mind about taking Avis into the bathroom," I
said.  "I don't trust her.  Leave her bound to the bed.  I'll
take Sheila in."

Renée looked at me.  "Are you going to fuck her?"

"Don't ask me questions like that," I said.  "If I want to, I
will.  You know me by now.

"For all you know, I may have fucked all three of them already. 
While you were fucking someone last night.  I know you weren't in
our bed when I got home, and you certainly weren't watching our
three guests."

I removed Sheila's ankle handcuffs and led her into the bathroom.
I closed the door.

"I hope I have less trouble with you than with your two friends,"
I said.  I lowered the toilet seat cover.  "Sit here."

"I-I won't cause you trouble," she said, seating herself. 
"You-You will let us go, won't you?"

"Definitely.  I'm no kidnapper.  You've met Manuel, Renée,
and Sumner.  Do they seem like kidnappers?  

"Renée doesn't.  She seems nice for an older woman."

Bon dieu!  Vieux!  It's a good thing she isn't in here.  Sheila
would discover what a temper my Renée has!

"She's only twenty-nine," I said.  "That isn't old."

"Well, I'm just seventeen.  She seems a lot older than we are. 
Anyway, I didn't mean she was really old."

"What about Manuel and Sumner?  Do they seem like thugs?"

She knitted her brows.  "Is Manuel the older man with the black
mustache, who doesn't speak very good English?"

"That's him."

"He seemed nice enough, at least for the little time we talked
with him.  I was surprised, actually, the way he acted after he
caught us in your basement.  He wasn't a bit angry.  He seemed a
lot more worried about telling you that we'd gotten in. .  . Who
else did you say?"

"Sumner.  He was with Renée, guarding the three of you when
I came to question you yesterday.  He's big, about my height, but
solid.  A lot heavier."

"Oh, now I know who you mean," Sheila said, smiling.  "He is big,
isn't he!  He'd scare me if he wasn't so funny.  I think I'd be
in stitches all the time around him.  He doesn't seem like he'd
do anything bad to us."

"That depends on what you consider bad.  He'll certainly want to
fuck you."

"Oh.  I keep forgetting . . ."

I looked down at her well-filled blouse.

Fuck.  This pony-tailed blonde with the nipples showing through
the cotton  is a real sexpot.  My cock is getting hard.  I
believe I'll capitalize on her current position.

"B-But, you promise you'll let me go home after the twelvedays?"

"After we're done with you."

"I know.  It's just that, except for school, I've never been away
from home, and--and this had to happen the first time I had a
vacation without Mom and Dad with me.  I feel like I have to feel
sure you'll let me go home afterwards.   I mean, back toBoston."

"I already told you I would.  Don't make me repeat myself,
Sheila.  What will I do if you do?"

"I-I guess you'll whip me.  I promise, I won't ask you that
again."

"Good.   I hope that, of you three girls, you'll cause me the
least trouble.  You understand why you're here?"

"In the bathroom?"

"No," I smiled; "I mean, why I'm keeping you for twelve days and
nights in this house."

She nodded.  "You just told us."

"Well, repeat it back to me.  I want to be sure you understand
it."

She hesitated, then replied, "You want us for sex.  I guess
you'll screw us."

"What else?"

She pondered.  "I guess we'll have to wash dishes and things
around this house."

"What else?"

She looked puzzled.  "I'm sorry.  I guess I've forgotten what
else you wanted us for."

"We're not just going to fuck you, we're going to do whatever we
want with you.  Do you understand now?"

She blushed and nodded.  "I guess so."

"I don't want you to guess.  When I request that you do
something, you are going to do it, whether you want to or not. 
Now do you understand?"

She nodded again.

"Good.  Now, take off your clothes.  I want you naked."  After
saying this, I took the strap from my pocket and hung it over the
side of the tub.

She blushed again.  However, she wasn't stupid.  She glanced at
the strap and then began undoing the buttons to her blouse.

I watched, feeling my cock harden in my jeans until it became
painful, lodged in my left pant leg, trying to rise.

I took her blouse, lay it on the tub beside the strap, and I
looked down at her.

Gorgeous dee cuppers!  Despite their size, little sag.  My cock
hurts in these tight jeans.

Creamy white hills, and her nipples were the color of cherries. 
I reached down and grasped them, squeezing them between my
forefingers and thumbs.  They hardened and swelled.

"Open my fly," I told her,  continuing to grip her nipples.

She turned pink.  Her hands shaking, she gripped the tab and
unzipped me.  When I told her to, she reached in.  After some
fumbling--which, to me felt very pleasant indeed--she succeeded
in pulling out my steel-hard organ.

"You know what I want," I told her; "Open your mouth."

"Oh!" she exclaimed; "I-I've never done that.  I'm scared. 
Please!"

Fuck!  She must be lying!  Is it possible?

"Do you go to church?"

"Church?"  She nodded, mystified.  "I go to mass every Sunday."

I shrugged, and I released her nipples.

 It's possible, I suppose.  Her last name is Fitzwilson.  Boston
Irish.  Some of our Francaises are still brought up in convents.
But, une Americaine? Unlikely.

"I'm going to quiz your two friends," I said.  "If you're lying .
. . well.  You know the consequences."

She nodded, embarrassed.

"For now, I'll assume you're being honest with me.  Is there
anything else you're going to claim that you `can't do'?"

"I-I don't know.  Not that I can think of."

"Don't you think that, just because you haven't sucked a cock,
that you'll manage to avoid doing it over the next few days.  You
won't.  I'm just being easy on you.  `Initiating' you in the
bathroom doesn't appeal to me."

She flushed but said nothing.

"Tell me about Arlene and Avis.  How did you meet them?"

"Well, I really only met them when I joined the sorority.  Avis
lives in Hyannis; her home isn't too far from where our mansion
is.  Mom and Dad see them, I mean, they see Avis's parents,
pretty often, at the country club.  Avis was a year ahead of me
in high school, but I knew who she was.  She was the prom queen
the year that she graduated, so pretty much everyone knew who she
was.  And last year I got to be queen.

"Mom and Dad, and Avis' folks, thought it was great that both of
us were so popular.  I think her folks persuaded Mom and Dad to
send me to Boston, because they said Avis liked it so much.  And
they thought it was great that she was in the sorority.  Even
though last year she was only a freshman, she was already big in
it.  My parents think it's because her parents donated a big
chiunk of money for an additon to the library, but I don't know
if that's really the reason.  Avis is pretty smart.  She gets her
way more than you'd think, even though she's such a cute girl,
not pushy like some of the girls there.

"The college had an open house that I went to with Mom and Dad
last spring, and Avis showed us around.  That's when I met
Arlene, too, although I didn't know much about her.  She's quite
a bit older than me, and lots more sophisticated.  She has so
much nerve!  All the girls look up to her.  I like her a lot, and
I wish I could be more like her.  I really think I am getting a
little bit like her, and sometimes I even give her advice that
she follows.

"Anyway, my parents thought it would be good if I didn't go too
far away from home, especially since I'd be living in the same
house as their daughter, so it was pretty much decided that I'd
go to college in  Boston.

"I was really thrilled when Avis asked my folks if I could go
with them on this spring break, and they O.K.'d it."

This was Sheila's freshman year, and she'd joined the sorority
the previous fall. Arlene and Avis were two of the Five which,
when Sheila was admitted, became the Six, as they were called. 
The three girls now comprised half of an exclusive coterie of six
(out of the twenty-some young women, aged seventeen to twenty-two
who lived in the house).  All of the six were scions of the
Bostonian vieille riche.  These half-dozen young women were the
elite of the house, although  it seemed evident to me from what
Sheila said, that she was more a follower in the group than were
any of the other five.  Although Sheila didn't tell me this, I
believe her inclusion in the coterie may have been based on
wealth rather than her contribution of any talent to the
sorority.

Arlene headed the `Six'.  She usually initiated their escapades,
which were often scandalous.  Besides crashing parties, as they'd
thought to do with their intrusion into our Florida operation,
she arranged parties at their mansion in Wellfleet whenever her
parents left for Europe.  

Arlene's parties featured alcohol, pot, and sex.  

Any freshie who joined the sorority was obliged to submit to an
initiation before any member of the elite would speak to, or even
listen to her.  This requirement that Arlene had devised was
fulfilled by the girl during one of her classes.  At least two
other sorority members had to be present in the class as
witnesses to the initiation, and which  consisted of  `servicing'
a male student at the rear of the room on her knees.

"Last year," Sheila said, "just before the Christmas break, 
"Miss Austen--my English prof--got suspended because of it.  At
least, we think that was the reason.  A lot of the men students
were laughing while it was going on, but Miss Austen ignored it.
Nobody seems to know who squealed to the administration, but
right after that, she got suspended for this semester."

"What about the girl responsible; the freshie who was getting
initiated?," I asked.  "What happened to her?"

Sheila smiled.  She was certainly relaxed and no longer uptight
or embarrassed, despite her nakedness and the mobility of her
breasts, which I occasionally made use of by allowing one of her
nipples, each of which had gotten hard, to rub against my
outthrust palm.

"Nothing, as far as I know.  But she sure got popular.  She got
so many calls that it was impossible to use the hall phone for
several weeks after that.  All the guys wanted to date her!"

"And, how is it that you joined the sorority without going
through that initiation?" I asked.  

"Oh," she said, reddening again and suddenly flustered.  
"That-that initiation Arlene decided on after I joined."

"I see."

I'll have to grill the other two girls to discover the truth.

I acquired a few more tidbits from Sheila, the authenticity of
which I had similar doubts about.  

"Tonight, you're going to do whatever I tell you to, aren'tyou?"

"Y-Yes."

"Just to be sure, I want to tell you how I'll punish you if you
don't."

"Oh, I know.  Y-You'll whip me.  Like you did Avis."

"I'll do more than that.  Arlene and Avis will do as I tell them.
 If you don't . . . If you refuse to do anything, I'll whip you.
It's true that I'll begin with your buttocks, yes.  I'll whip
them until they're tender.

"Then  I'll turn you around.  I cupped a breast in my palm. 
"Your breasts are much more sensitive than your buttocks, aren't
they?"  I extended my forefingers and flicked her nipples. 
"These make convenient targets."

She flushed.

"That won't be all.  When I'm done with these, my men will hang
you by your ankles from two ceiling hooks.  Spaced well apart. 
I'm sure you know where I'll whip you then."

"I-I won't cause you any trouble.  Y-You won't have to do that."

"Before I begin, I'll provide myself with a target just as
convenient as these."

I flicked them again.  "I'll suck a bit on your clit."

Sheila gasped.

"I-I promise,  I'll do anything you want me to rather than have
you do that!"

"We'll have some lunch now," I said.  I took her hand.  "Leave
your blouse off.  I like your teats bare."

I took her back into the bedroom, naked to the waist.  Avis was
positioned as before, except that somehow she had worked her
skirt back down, far enough to cover her buttocks, but no more. 
Her eyes were closed, and I assumed she was asleep.  Renée
was sitting on the bed, my bag from the dresser on her lap, and
was examining its contents.

"Time for lunch," I said.  

Avis immediately opened her eyes.  I manacled Sheila's hands
together in front of her, after which I undid Avis from the bed
and refastened her hands as I had the blonde's.  The four of us
descended to the kitchen.

Renée and I prefer light lunches.  Avis and Sheila served us
soupe au l'oignon that Renée had made several days before,
along with microwave-zapped hard rolls.  I let the two girls
scrounge through our cupboards and refrigerator to find something
for themselves; they settled on ham and cheese sandwiches plus
some of the soup they'd served us.  Their handcuffs were a minor
inconvenience with the soup; necessitating they use both hands
although only one hand was needed for the spoon.

While Renée and I had coffee, I had the coeds wash, dry, and
put away the dishes. 

I occasionally glanced at Sheila to obtain a look at her ample
breasts.  I was pleased that she seemed attentive to my interest
in viewing them, and seemed careful not to conceal them from my
view.

Is she being obedient, or is she an exhibitionist?

"When we're done here," I told Renée, "bring a bowl of soup
downstairs to Arlene.  I'm afraid that you'll have to feed her; 
her hands are still bound behind her back."

"She's been tied like that all morning?"

I shrugged.  "It was necessary.   Otherwise she'd have used her
hands to . . ." (I chose my words carefully) obtain some relief
from her punishment."

"You mean she's still being punished now?  Since this morning?"

I nodded.  "And she will be again this afternoon, after you feed
her.  It'll continue until tonight."

The girls had stopped drying the dishes, looking shocked at my
information.

"Is soup all you want me to give her?"

"Tomorrow we'll give her a big breakfast.  But today, nothing but
the soup.  When you're done with her, I want you to go out to
make a few purchases."

I handed her some bills.  "Buy bathrobes for the girls, plus
these items."  I handed her a list that I'd drawn up earlier. 
"Oh, and if you find a robe you like, get a new one for
yourself."

She examined my list.  "Where in heaven am I going to obtain a
case of KY Jelly?!," she exclaimed.  "And, why so much?"

"I'll explain later," I said.  "Get as many tubes as you can, but
eight should be enough for tonight.  It's just that I want enough
for a couple of weeks, and if you obtain no more than eight,
you'll have to go out again tomorrow.

"When you get back come upstairs.  I'm going to explain to Avis
and Sheila the ground rules for our party tonight.  Probably the
men expect a gang-bang.  What I have in mind should be more
interesting than that, both for us and for the girls."

"All right.  I love those roses you brought last night.   I never
saw violet ones before.   I put the strawflowers in another vase.
 But you jammed too many in that one vase.  I moved the
strawflowers into a different one."

"They weren't roses, they were lisianthi.  I'd have brought roses
but the girl was out of them."

"Well, I love them.  And you."  She gave me a kiss.

I noticed both girls looking at us.  Silly smiles on theirfaces.

"Oh, check to see if Arlene needs to use the toilet.  If she
does, stay with her.  I don't want her to get off."

"What?"  She looked puzzled.

"Pas trop forte.   Les filles avant oreilles."

J'espére que les filles ne comprenents pas le francais.

"D'accord."

Renée took English all through school and knows the language
pretty well, but sometimes she misses the meaning of idiomatic
expressions, particularly ones not taught in the lycée.  I 
wasn't going to explain `get off'in hearing distance of the
coeds.  The  expression seemed ambiguous enough that they
couldn't be certain of my meaning.

I lowered my voice and whispered.  "She's been tied standing up
since I left her.  With vibrators in her cunt and ass.  And a
butterfly vibe on her clit ring."

She smiled, and whispered back.  "A real clit ring?  Or do you
mean a hood one?"

"A real clit ring.  It goes right through it, from one side to
the other."

"Oh my."  Her smile broadened.  So, by `get off', you meant
`come'?"

I nodded.  

"What makes you think she hasn't come by now?  Did you test the
vibrators on her?"

"No, but I set them on low.  Except for the one in her ass."

She began to giggle.  It developed into a laughing fit that she
seemed unable to suppress. Avis approached, and Renée
covered her mouth.

Damn!  Her laugh is contagious.  I'm having as much difficulty 
as she maintaining a straight face.

"We've finished the dishes,"  Avis simpered.

 Of course it was necessary  to approach as close as a mètre
from me to tell me that!

She parked beside Renée.   Sheila remained at the sink
watching, her breasts jutting over it.

"Thank you, Avis."  I stood up. 

"Sheila, come along; we're going back upstairs."

I told Renée not to forget to come up when she was done
shopping.

Smiling, she nodded.  She choked off a giggle as she started
downstairs.   The girls glanced at each other, perplexed.  Avis
shrugged and shook her head at Sheila.

The three of us went up the stairs together.  The blonde's
bouncing breasts lured my fingers, and I reached out and grasped
one.  My palm cupped and my fingers kneaded the smooth handful,
just for a few moments.  Sheila stopped and blushed.  She looked
at me, but she did nothing to impede my hand.

* * *

In the bedroom, I rebound the girls' ankles as before.  Then I
trotted downstairs, intent on checking on production.

"We've been back on the francs for about two hours," Sumner told
me.  "The line is turning out sixteen one hundred franc notes per
second, so we've made about two thousand of them, or about two
hundred thousand francs.  Roughly fifty thousand dollars if we
were able to convert them without  a discount.  Of course we
can't.  Maybe we'll get a quarter on the dollar, considering
their quality."

"Let's continue on them for the rest of the day," I told him. 
"Quit at six and clean the tanks.  You should be done by
six-thirty."

"What time  do we start l'Exhibition?"

"Ten.  That will give everyone time to clean up and havedinner."

"Where do you want to eat?"

"I thought we'd go to the Flamingo."  

It was in Plantation, just off of Route 817.  Painted wooden
birds are scattered over the lawn.  It's all rather hideous in my
opinion, but the food inside and the service are good.  I've
heard some of my compatriots disparage American cuisine, but I
think it's equal to the better French fare, the sole exception
being five star restaurants.  I believe those are superior in my
homeland, but they're ludicrously overpriced.  Fifteen hundred
francs, minimum, to dine in a five star, without even the
inclusion of a bottle of Bordeaux.  Reservations at least one
month in advance.   I suppose the wealthy don't care.

I prefer restaurants in the States.  Of the countries I've been
in it has the best restaurants for dining at a reasonable cost.

While Renée,  Sumner, and I dined  at the Flamingo, Manuel
prepared dinner at the mansion for himself, his son José,
and my brother Bruce.  As for the two girls in my bedroom, I told
him he could bring them salads, but nothing more.  

I'm a decent cook myself and told him, "If they're hungry later
tonight, I'll make them a more substantial dinner then."  

Of course I intended to include Arlene in that late meal as well
as the other girls.  She would probably be famished by then.  The
prime reason I was parsimonious with their food was that I wanted
to preclude the possibility of one of the girls vomiting while we
partied.  I thought there was a distinct possibility of that
happening to a girl who was mounted on an H frame, especially if
she was  turned upside down for some amusement.

I thought it also might happen if one of the coeds gulped down
more than a normal portion of semen.  I'm personally ignorant
concerning the subject, but on raising the subject with Sumner, I
was reassured.  He lived in Amsterdam for a few years and was
friendly with one of the girls in the `Shop Window' district.  

The girl specialized in fellatio and--although I find it hard to
understand--she told him she preferred it to any other form of
sex.  Sumner told me that she'd once been hired out as the
principal attraction  in a party for eleven or twelve--she
couldn't recall the exact number, since a few came back for
seconds--upper school boys.  She'd said that it had been a
one-time mistake that she'd never repeat.  It gave her a severe
case of aching jaws, including cramps, that persisted for nearly
a day.  Nevertheless, except for her jaws, she'd suffered no ill
effects, not even a bellyache.

So, I didn't concern myself about how much of that our coeds
consumed.  

The beer and liquor that I intended pick up on the way back would
be of more concern.  It seems to me that American young people
overindulge when they reach an age when they can either legally 
or clandestinely obtain alcoholic beverages.  Perhaps it's
because they aren't accustomed to drinking wine with meals from
an early age.  Few of my countrymen consume hard liquor like you
Americans do.  

I intended to keep the amount of liquor which the three girls
drank well under control.  

We ordered, each one of us, coincidentally, making a seafood
selection.  

"I adore their key lime pie here!" Renée exclaimed.  "I'm
going to eat light to save room for a piece.  Why we can't learn
to make American style pies in Paris is a mystery to me."

"Can you recommend a good California red?," I asked the girl. 
Chemically blonde, but it suited her fair skin.  Simultaneously,
Sumner and I viewed her nice legs.

"Well," she said; "We have an excellent Simi Cabernet
ninety-five."  She bent over, bestowing on me an alluring glimpse
of her decolletage while she pointed it out on the wine menu I
was holding.  It was the second most expensive wine listed but,
for a restaurant its price was reasonable.  

"Have you tried it yourself?"

She shook her head.  Tresses fashionably short.  "I don't drink
wine myself.  I prefer cocktails or beer.  But our customers who
drink red wine say it's our best."

"We'll try a bottle.  And, please bring a cold bottle of  this
Chardonnay."

Renée is a vin blanc devotee, and she prefers the better
California varietals to our French blends.

After following the waitress's mobile hips recede toward the bar,
Sumner turned back to me.  "How did you two meet?," he asked. 
"You and Renée."

"In the Metro," Renée said.

I smiled, recollecting it.  Crowded though they usually are, I
like subways. 

From the `Mind the gap' warnings of conducters in the London
Underground and the Baker Street station walls with profiles of
Sherlock Holmes covering the station,  Moscow's cleanliness and
lavish ceilings adorned with oil paintings, to Singapore's ultra
modern antiseptic stations, where one never sees the tracks, the
doors facing them opening only when the trains arrive and the
car's doors matching and opening simultaneously with those of the
station.  And, of course, the most modern one of all, the Rome
Metro.  How many years it took to build, I had no idea; the
archaeologists continually halting the tunnelling to preserve
freshly discovered artifacts.  Crowded, the very moment it
opened.

"I had my eye on an elegant young brunette in furs who was
carrying a shopping bag," I began.  

"She was near a German tourist who was holding a big Leica, and
also to a group of four or five girls, aged ten or eleven, who
were chattering away beside him.  When we approached the Louvre
stop, the girls surrounded the guy and began hugging him and
giving him what you might call a dry fuck, from all sides.   I
stopped watching the girl and got interested in the scam that was
starting.  My guess was they'd get his wallet, which one girl
did.

"Well, the girl in furs began shouting at the girls to leave him
alone, and she pushed them away from him.

"The car came to a stop, and everyone piled out, including the
tourist, the filles, and the girl.  I'd been on my way to the
Marais, but I followed them out, curious to see the endgame. 
About then the tourist began to shout, `Meine brieftasche!  Meine
brieftasche!'

"He grabbed one of the girls, and they all stopped as he shook
the girl and began to demand--in atrocious French I regret to
say--that they return his wallet.  One of them had sliced his
rear pants pocket, which flapped open.  Of course the girls
denied everything. 

"But, the amusing thing was what the girls then did.  All four or
five of them promptly stripped there in the terminal, to show him
they were hiding nothing.  

"That, of course, drew everyone's attention, but I knew the girl
in furs was the ringleader so I followed her out.  I'd observed
the youngster drop the wallet in her shopping bag, but I'd have
never noticed if I hadn't anticipated something of the sort."

"He certainly scared me," Renée said.  "I was sure he was a
gendarme.  He eased my mind pretty fast, though.  He knew I had
the wallet and just where it was, but he had no interest in it."

"I was interested in her, not in a few German marks.  Anyhow, I
wouldn't leave her, and she finally let me take her to her
rendez-vous, a cafe, where her protéges showed up an hour or
so later."

"I've heard about that scam," Sumner said.  "The flics are
familiar with it these days.  With all the ones in mufti roaming
the Metro, it would be risky to try now."

Our waitress brought the vins rouge et blanc, and our
consommé vert.

* * *

"Mmm!" Renée exclaimed, putting down her fork. "Delicious!"

"Want another piece?" I asked.  I like American pies myself, and
after watching enviously, I decided to have a piece with my
coffee--if Renée ordered a second.

"Oh you sultan you!," she exclaimed.  "You harem lovers are all
the same.  You like fat women!"

"I do not.  I detest them."

"If she gets fat, Marc," Sumner said, between sips of his coffee,
"I'll  take her off your hands."

"I  can always depend on you when I'm in need,  Sumner."

"Oh," Renée said; "I almost forgot.  Avis told me something
you should know."

"What's that?"

"It's about Sheila.  Sheila, I guess, told you she was . . . uh,
`almost' une vierge?"

"She's something of the sort.  She's inexperienced.  I knew that
already.  I have no interest in hearing more details.  To  quote
Voltaire, `the secret of being a bore is to tell everything'."

"Since when do you read anything, Marc, much less Voltaire? 
Well, you should hear this."

"I take it you don't want a second slice?"

"No.  You  can have one.  I can read your mind you know."

I waved to the waitress, who was leaning her cute ass against a
table edge, apparently waiting to present us with l'addition.   

She asked if we wanted more coffee as well.  We did, and this
time two sets of male eyes  followed her swiveling rear until it
disappeared through the swinging door.

"All right, what should I hear?"

"She gives gamahuches to her boyfriend."  

"La menteuse!"

"What?"  She looked at me, eyes wide.

"Never mind," I said.  "Go ahead with your story."

"She doesn't fuck him.  Avis says the one time they fucked, his
condom broke.  Then, her period was late and she . . .um . . ."

"freaked out," I supplied.

"panicked.  You and your American slang.  Half the time I think
you invent those words."

"So, she panicked.   What then?"

"Since then, she sucks him off.   Avis said that Sheila's
boyfriend indicated that they did something else as well, but he
seemed to be ashamed of it and wouldn't explain to Avis what it
was.  He told Avis though, that he had no interest in doing it
with her.  Maybe he does the same for Sheila as she does for him.
 I mean, maybe he's as ashamed that he cunt-licks her as she is
about giving him all the bj's.  Anyway, whatever that other thing
is, it doesn't involve fucking.  She's too afraid to get
pregnant."

"She, it seems," said Sumner,  "est une peu folle."

"More than that," I said.  "She's a world-class liar.  She had
the balls to tell me she'd never sucked a cock in her life!"

Renée put her hand on mine.  "Don't be too hard on her,
Marc.  She's ashamed to admit she does it.  Some girls are like
that."

So my shapely blonde, you've lied to me.  Grounds for a really
good whipping.   How could you be too embarrassed to admit that?
Most girls I know are proud of their ability to give bj's.  Well,
as my compatriot Rousseau said, `It isn't our crimes that are
difficult to confess, it's things  we're ashamed of.'

I ordered a round of cognac, partly because we all three enjoy
brandy after a dinner, but mostly to allow me to calm down.

"How did Avis find out about Sheila and her gamahuches?" I asked.
 "Did Sheila admit to Avis that it's what she does?"

Renée shook her head.  "Oh, no.  Avis says that Sheila is
full of hangups.  She's ashamed of admitting anything about sex.
There are some lesbians in the house where they live, and
Sheila's afraid of them."

"Foolish girl," Sumner said.  "She's been  too sheltered.  Her
parents should send her to Paris."

"Yes," Renée agreed.  "She would grow up there."

"How did Avis learn about these bj's, if Sheila didn't tell her?"
I asked again.

"Sheila's boyfriend.  Avis is a lot more of a bones-jumper . . .
is that what the college kids here say? . . . than you'd guess. 
He told Avis that he's actually getting a little tired of nothing
but bj's from Sheila."

* * *

When we got back, Manuel handed me an envelope.  "A messenger
left this at the gate, Señor Marc."

"What's that?,"  Renée asked.

"Telegram."  I opened it.  "It seems we'll have visitors before
we ship.  They want to inspect our stock."

"Do they say when?"

"Not precisely.  `Toward the end of next week'."
 
I folded the telegram and put it in my pocket.  Manuel was
locking the gate behind us.  "Do you have my revolver with you?"
I asked him.

"No señor," he responded, pocketing the key.  "I have it in
my room."

"Well, it's nearly nine o'clock.  Go prepare for our party.  I
don't need it now, but I'd like it by tomorrow."

"Of course, Señor.  I'll bring it to you in the morning."

"I hope they don't show up at night," she said.

"Moi aussi.  They aren't very savory characters.  I'd be
concerned about our three new pieces of equipment getting
damaged.  Or, even stolen."


* * *

My brother was in the living room, watching an old Bogart film on
a cable channel.  "Have you showered yet, Bruce?" I asked.

"Oui, mon frère," he responded.  "I knew you'd all be using
the bathrooms when you got back.  I'm all ready, condoms and all.
 José  and I took a look at that redhead in the family room.
 What a doll!  Pancho couldn't believe those rings in her tits
and belly button!  He's kind of innocent in some ways.  I guess,
where he and his papa come from, girls don't stick pins and rings
in themselves.  Except in their ears.

"Jesus, did I ever want to fuck her!  But I knew you'd give me
merde if I did."

"I would.  You'll be able to fuck her all you want in another
hour or so.  At ten o'clock, find José and bring him
downstairs with you.  I want to give everyone a briefing as to
how we're going to treat the three girls."

"I've never been in a gang-bang.  It should be what the Americans
call a ball!"

"That's just what it won't be," I told him.  I want them to have
some fun, too.  Tell that to José as well."

"You're the boss.  I'll be there au point.  I guess I'll tape the
rest of this; I think it goes on until eleven."

"Where's José now?"

"In his room, I think.  He showered already, too."

"I'm asking Renée to prepare the blonde and the girl with
the long black hair.  Renée is going to need help handling
two of them, so I'd like you or José, or both of you, to
give her a hand."

The girls were where we'd left them, ankles handcuffed to the
bed.  Dirty plates and silverware were under the drawer of the
nightstand.
 
I'm going downstairs," I told Renée.  "to take care of
Arlene."

"Are you  going to give her an enema now?"

I nodded.  "It's  nearly nine.  After it, I'll bathe her and then
I'll shower.  I want you to  give Sheila and Avis enemas.  Follow
with a tube of lubricant in each of them.

"When you bring them back up here, manacle Avis in the position I
put her in to whip her. I want to quiz her a little, but she may
give me some trouble.  I want her ass readily accessible for
discipline.  You'll need help handling two girls, so get it from
Bruce or José.  Or, use them both.  They're already set for
tonight's party."


*.* *

I opened and closed the door quietly.  Arlene gave no indication
she'd heard me enter.

Despite the collar, her head was slumped slightly to one side,
her eyes closed.  I watched for a minute or two.  It was apparent
that she was awake.  She occasionally moved her shoulders and
arms, trying  to relieve the tension  of the chain pulling her
wrists up her back; periodically, she raised one and then the
other foot over the carpet to flex a knee, incidentally raising
and lowering the end of the spreader bar in the process.

I gazed at her body for some time, admiring her firm bee tits
with the delicate gold rings through the nipples.  I looked down
at her crotch where, because of the spreader bar, her labia were
prominent.   gaping open, with the butterfly strap pulled between
them.  They were swollen, and would have gaped apart to some
extent without it.  A mouth-watering figure.  Not as curvaceous
as Sheila's amply nubile one or Avis's petite one.  Her figure
was more delicately curved, a little more slender in proportion
than those of the other girls.  I liked it very much.

I approached a few feet closer, the carpet-on-concrete quieting
my steps.

I knelt and examined her thighs; then I looked higher to see as
much of her labia as was visible between the butterfly straps and
the ropes.   Her labia were wet.  Her thighs, nearly to her
knees, also glistened with fluid.

"Jesus Christ!" she said, jerking against the chain, her eyes
popping open.  "You scared me."

I stood up.

Le parfum d'une femme excité.  What an aphrodisiac.

"It's about time you showed up," she exclaimed.  "I was afraid
you were going to leave me like this all  night!"

"You seem to have forgotten how to address me."

Despite her strong words, she looked dazed.

"I'm sorry, M-Master.  B-But, a whole day like this!  I was
afraid you were going to leave me like this all night.  Oh, my
legs!  I can hardly stand."

"You knew I wouldn't leave you all night.   I told you you would
be on tonight's menu."

Le parfum, il y a tres forte!

 "It seems the vibrators were effective," I said.  Giving her a
smile, I made a show of inhaling deeply..

She blushed.  "Jesus . . . is it that obvious?"

I undid the snaphook from the ceiling chain.  She slumped and,
fearing she'd fall,  I caught her about the waist.

"Wow!, are my legs ever weak," she said.  

She looked down.  She smiled when she noticed that her bare
breasts were squashed against my chest.

"Walking may help," I said.  "I'm taking you to the main floor
bathroom."

"Your girlfriend took me up there earlier today.  But my arms are
killing me, too.  Won't you take off these handcuffs?  Or, at
least move them so my hands are in front?  I mean, why do you
want them in back like this?  And, why so far up?!"

"I'll move them  when we're upstairs," I told her.  "You're going
to have to learn to keep quiet.  Later tonight, when all my staff
use you, you'll be still and obedient or I'll be forced to punish
you again.  And I have heavier whips than you've felt so far."

* * * 

I gave her the enema, ensuring she was thoroughly cleaned out
with three successive quarts of warm and soapy water. 
Afterwards, to her immense relief, I removed her handcuffs and
helped her into the bathtub.  

The tub was an antique affair with high sides and lion's feet
that I had filled nearly to the safety drain with steaming hot
water containing both scent and bubble bath. As soon as Arlene
climbed into it,  I remanacled her hands in front of her, pulling
up and linking the chain again to her collar, this time to a
front ring.  It fixed her hands above the level of her wine
goblet breasts and  their golden nipple rings.  The latter 
dangled just low enough to dip in the suds whenever she leaned
forward.

"You bastard," she said, looking up at me as she tugged down on
the chain.  Her hands couldn't even reach her nipples.  She gave
me a wry smile.  "You knew I wanted to jerk off, didn't you!"

Because of the  limited use Arlene had of her hands, I did most
of the washing, using a sponge and a wash cloth as well as my
bare hands.  Arlene seemed amused rather than embarrassed by my
washing her.  I soaped and rinsed her vulva with my bare hands
and later, just prior to finishing by using a wash cloth on her
feet, I applied my bare soapy hands between her buttocks.  My
awkwardness caused her to burst into giggles.

"You're going to have to change those clothes," she told me as I
opened the drain.  I was certainly wet.  Even my sandals, which
I'd worn for the washing episode,  had absorbed bath water. 

After  her bath, I dried her with a large beach towel  and had
her seat herself at the vanity.  She selected and began to apply
makeup and lipstick that Renée had purchased when I'd sent
her shopping earlier.  

I sat on the toilet seat, watching her.  

"Do you mind if I ask you some personal questions?" I said.

She looked at me with raised eyebrows..  "How can I mind?  You're
the boss here, aren't  you?  I imagine you can ask anything you
want.  But, I can't think of any secrets I have--if secrets are
what you're after."

"Are you the president of a sorority?"

She smiled.  "Not the president, no.  But I have some influence
with her.  Quite a bit, actually."

"Um . . . do you have an initiation ceremony for freshmen to
join?"

"Ah-ha!" she exclaimed.  "Either Avis or Sheila  squealed!  Sure.
 Did she tell you what it involved?"

"Yes.  But I don't know whether to believe her."

She confirmed what Sheila had told me.  "Isn't that a great
initiation!?" she laughed.  "We're giving the Administration
fits!"

"Why haven't they cracked down on your sorority?"

"They don't know we're behind it.  We've had several initiations
this year, but the school authorities only found out about one.
As far as they know it was just a couple of students acting up.
We swore all the sisters to secrecy.  None of them would dare let
it out that our sorority has anything to do with fun that goes on
in the back of a class!"

"When did you start this hazing?"

"Last fall.  Why?"  She smiled.  "You working for the college,
undercover?  I don't think so.  You're too . . . uh.  I don't
know . . . too much like me."

Je ressemble toi!? Je ne le crois pas.

"So, it was your idea."

"Oh no.  Sheila suggested it, but I thought it was hilarious!"

Her application of makeup proved to be another surprise: she
applied lipstick to her nipples.  She looked at me while she
applied it, holding each of her bee cuppers up in turn, carefully
going around the rings.

"Since we're having a party," she explained;  "I thought I should
be properly dressed for it.  I take it you're not going to allow
me to wear clothes?  I thought black stockings were de rigueur at
orgies."

"No . . . or, rather, you're right--I'm not allowing you to.  Are
Avis and Sheila as unflappable as you?"

Finally I have had the opportunity to use that amusing English
word!  I've been hoarding it since I heard it a year ago.

"I wouldn't say that.  I have quite a temper.  Avis is, a bit
like me; she's tougher than she looks.  Not the blonde cutie,
though.  Sheila would run from a mouse.  But then, she's only
seventeen."

"How old are you?"

"Twenty.  Too old for college kid stuff.  My dad insists I stay
in school, but I'm staying just for the kicks.  I'd rather
travel.  I guess you must travel a lot.  You're from France,
right?"

"Yes."

I located an unused tube of vaginal jelly in the cabinet and,
after she'd finished  her nipples, I had her bend over,
supporting herself with her manacled hands on the edge of the
tub.  

I injected its contents into her anus.  While I was doing it,
taking my time to be certain she received it all, she made some
obscure remark like, "Tristentormino says you can never get too
much," but I was thinking of other things and didn't query her
about it.

 Then I took her back downstairs.  

In the playroom, instead of re-fastening her hands between her
shoulder blades, I left her hands where they were, bound in front
below her chin, and I attached the chain that hung from the
ceiling to the link between her manacles.

From the bag on the lamp table, in preparation to receive the
other two coeds, I  took out two additonal chains and I hung them
from a couple of Sumner's unused ceiling eyebolts.

Then I left Arlene.  I went upstairs, changed clothes, and wrote
some notes.

* * *

Sheila was sitting in what appeared to be an uncomfortable
position.  Her legs were under her to keep her skirt from rising
up her thighs while her ankle was handcuffed to the vertical bar
at the foot of the bed.

Desipite her bare breasts, she doesn't want her cunt to be seen.
As much as Arlene exasperates me, she's more honest.  This blonde
could learn from her.

"Oh my god!" she exclaimed, reading the paper I'd given her.  She
looked up at me.   "Do I  have to say these things?"

"That's why you have the notes," I said.  "Memorize them.  That
shouldn't be hard for college girls.  As for what they say,
considering what you'll do tonight, why should words botheryou?"

She bit her lip.  "I can't talk dirty like this."

"Of course you can.  As you Americans say, `talk is cheap'.  I'm
sure you've used every one of these words before; you simply
haven't used them in those phrases.  If it's necessary, I'll
encourage you with my strap.  I hope you don't force me to do
that.  You can't have forgotten where on that pretty torso of
yours that I'd apply it, surely."

"Oh, n-no!"

"Then, study them.  In a short while I'll take you downstairs. 
My men and Renée 
will be there for our soirée.  If you fail to say these
words, I may decide to let my men discipline you.  They'll do it
in the way I tell them to.  I doubt that any of them, perhaps not
even Sumner, has had the pleasure of whipping a girl on her teats
and cunt.  I'm sure they'll do it with enthusiasm."

I brought my bag of B&D equipment to the bed and I manacled her
hands behind her.  I rummaged through the bag and found a collar
and leash, a short chain, and a pair of nipple clamps, ones
provided with thumb screws for tightening.

Neither girl impeded me, but they watched, wide-eyed as I
fastened the collar about Sheila's neck.  I fixed a nipple clamp
to one end of the chain.

Her nipples were the largest in diameter that I recall seeing up
close; their color was reddish-brown but toward each one's base
they became a truer red, the hue of her aroelas.   Cupping a
weighty breast in my hand, I raised it.  As the nipple wasn't
erect, I did the obvious, sucking on it for ten seconds or so. 
When I pulled my head back, letting it pop from my lips, she'd
closed her eyes.  Her teat was nicely swollen, and elongated.

She opened her eyes and smiled.

"I was only wetting it to make the clamp hold better," I
explained.

I worked the clamp over her teat and tightened down the screw.

Renée and I have learned from experience--with several young
ladies--that pressure enough to squash a nipple to half its
orginal diameter is about right to prevent a clamp from
loosening.  I used the technique on Sheila's teat, indenting it
close to its base.  As I said, her nipples were big, and this
squashing seemed to make the size of the projecting, unsquashed
tip seem even larger.  

"Oh!" she said, looking down at her breast after I released the
screw.  "This-This feels tight."

"I hope so," I said.

I raised her other mammary and thrust it between my lips.  I
sucked and licked this one for a longer period than the first,
curious to follow its effect on the blonde.  As before, she
closed her eyes.  I was in an uncomfortable half-crouch and had
to look up awkwardly as I flicked with my tongue.  In order to
keep it in by suction alone, I held half the aroela in my lips. 
It wasn't long before Sheila breathed more deeply,  affected.  I
drew my head slowly back, holding her teat.  I continued to pull,
causing her breast to elongate, until it spontaneously popped
out, bobbing from the recoil.

I attached the unused clamp to the loose chain end, and drew it
toward her wettened nipple.  The chain was too short, so I held
it taut and, with a cupped hand, I pulled her unclamped breast
toward it to reach the nipple.  I clamped her second teat as
tightly as the first.  

She looked down again and told me,  "These are awful tight."

I didn't bother to mention that perhaps a dozen girls before her
had told me the same thing.  I stepped back for a moment to
admire the effect.  

  "Beautiful cleavage," I told her.

I should leave the clamps on the blonde through this evening's
revelry.  It may be artificial, and require lubricant, but it
would be an undeniably attractive way to use her.

I undid Sheila's ankle cuff,  and I helped her from the bed. 
Holding her arms, I positioned her so she was standing before me,
and I picked up the leash.  I clipped its hook onto the chain
between her nipples.   

Turning to the brunette, I told her, "I'm  taking Sheila
downstairs.  Do you need anything right now?  Water, or need to
use the bathroom?  I'll send someone up if you do."
Avis shook her head.  "I'm O.K."  
Beautiful long tresses.  Their black, along with her muff's
equally dark hue, will contrast beautifully with her pale skin as
soon as she's stripped.

I gripped the leash and pulled.

Sheila emitted a surprised "Oh!"  Without the support of her
hands, bound as they were behind her, she nearly lost her
balance.  She stumbled forward and I led her, the B&D bag in my
other hand, downstairs to the basement playroom.

* * *

Arlene had her eyes closed again.  With her wrists bound in front
of her, held up close to her neck by the collar chain, and absent
a spreader bar, she looked much more comfortable than she had
before I'd bathed her.  

"Oh, is she asleep?" Sheila asked; but her query needed no
response since the redhead's eyes immediately popped open.

"Sheila!" Arlene, exclaimed.  "Am I glad to see you!  I wondered
where you were.  Where is Avis?"

"In the bedroom.  We were worried about you.  We heard that you
were . . ."

I jerked her forward, and she emitted an "Ow!" and had to
interrupt her speech and follow me to avoid having her nipples
pulled again.

"Be quiet," I told her.  I led her to one of the H frames, and
she stared at it, dumfounded.  With its attached manacles, it was
easy for her to see its purpose.

I pushed her until her back was against the crossbeam of the H
and pulled up her wrists.  As I'd thought, I was able to stretch
her torso and arms enough to fasten her wrists in the manacles
without having to lift her. With  her arms thus outstretched and
up at about a one thirty-five degree angle to her height, I undid
her skirt and pulled it down her legs.  I was forced to give her
a brief but hard slap on the thigh when she seemed reluctant to
raise her feet, after which I removed it from around them and
tossed it aside.

I was unconcerned about Renée berating me for leaving it on
the floor, since she was now  relieved of doing any more laundry.
 That chore would be the responsibility of the coeds.

In any event, Sheila would have no need to wear clothing the rest
of the day.

I knelt and spread her legs until each was at the base of an
upright, and I fastened her ankles to the manacles there.  This
caused all her limbs to stretch to even further, but there proved
to be enough elasticity in the leather of the manacles as well as
in her limbs, so that it wasn't necessary for her to stand on her
tiptoes.

I stood up, then, and I looked at her.  She was totally available
for our amusement, from her full breasts with  the chain and
leash dangling from her clamped nipples to her wide-spread
thighs, her labia protruding below her mass of golden fur. 
Reaching out, I cupped my hands under her breasts, and I bounced
them on my palms.  I pulled lightly on the leash, and she emitted
an "Oh!"  she looked away, perhaps not wanting to anticipate what
I'd do next.

Her hair and ponytail needed brushing, but I thought it would be
more attractive to have her appear a bit disheveled, looking a
bit used and slutty.   I removed her band, letting her gold
tresses fall loosely about her shoulders.

I  ran my hands over her fair skin, and my cock hardened.  I
stroked her belly with my palms and then I slowly slid my fingers
down to her muff.  Abundant and untrimmed, it provided a warm
nest that I voluptuously ran my fingers through.  

Her labia projected prominantly between her spread thighs.  I
reached further down, and I grasped her outer, fur-covered lips,
and I pulled them apart.  I found the hood over her clit, and I
grasped it between my forefinger and thumb.  I pulled it lightly;
then I wiggled it.  I glanced up to observe her response.

"Oh!" she gasped, looking down at me and blushing.  "P-Please
don't do that!"

I glanced at my watch.  Forty-five minutes from now, my men would
enter the room.  I had to bring Avis down.   

I'll  strip her, then mount her in the rack next to the blonde. 
It will  be a tableau vivant which will greet my men as they
enter.  Two beautiful women, one blonde, the other brunette ,
their limbs spread wide, each naked.

I'll  mount the redhead on the sawhorse.  All three young ladies
will then be on  display for us, presented like three  main
dishes in a buffet.  We'll feast on  as much of each dish as we
please; there's  plenty for all.


END OF CHAPTER TWO



-- 
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reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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