Dinner and Dancing
part 8
The next week turned out to be something different. Master
arrived in black tie evening dress and announced he was going to
take them to meet some friends. To protect their identities,
they would all wear masks, and would be blindfolded on their way
to the dinner party.
When Tiffany, her friend Cheryl, her mother, and her father
took off their blindfolds, they found themselves in the paved
courtyard, with trees around the periphery, and the walls of a
palatial house surrounding the trees. Tables were set out, for a
dinner party, and, already, Champagne was on ice. Master issued
them leather cuffs for wrists and ankles, padded on the inside,
fitted with snap hooks on the outside. The four slaves took off
their clothes and put on the cuffs. The three women were given
strange masks, animal faces, which had eye holes but no mouths,
just the animal-like snouts. Tiffany was a dog. Tiny Cheryl was
a kitten. The mother was a cow. Each was made to stand between
two trees, arms upraised and fastened to branches, where they
would have to stand and watch the diners, while the diners
watched them.
Master went to the mother with a long cow's tail, with a
tuft on the end. He inserted one end in her anus and inflated
the ball which held it in place. From the mother's perforated
labia, he hung two big, brass cowbells, which would clank if she
moved. Tiffany was given a dog's tail, similarly attached, and
her perforated labia were held apart by hooks and rubber bands
around Tiffany's thighs, so the pinkness of her vulva and inner
lips was displayed for all to see. Cheryl got a kitten's tail,
all fluffy, and the rings either side of her virginal slit were
tied together with pink ribbons, tied in bows.
Four footmen, in ancient costume, knee britches and buckle
shoes, prepared the table, ignoring the women. As a centerpiece,
they spread-eagled Tiffany's father, on his back, and placed a
leather hood over his head. He could breathe, but not see.
Doc arrived, also in black tie, accompanied by about a dozen
women, all wearing masks and strange costumes. One was dressed
like Peter Pan, in an green skin-tight costume. Another was
dressed like an Elizabethan courtier, with doublet, hose, and
codpiece, even a sword. One had a Regency-style dress, all
gauzy, with the waist, such as it was, defined by ribbons right
under her upthrust breasts, the pink nipples visible through the
transparent material. Still another was an elaborate off-the-
shoulder gown, with hoop skirts, and an elaborate hat, festooned
with feathers. Still another wore a harlequin suit of many
colors, and another wore a harem girl outfit, her midriff bare,
with a veil and abundant gold jewelry. One was all in leather,
and another wore a Nazi-like uniform with riding britches and
boots. One woman, with long, blonde hair pinned up in a twist,
was dressed in a man's evening dress and carried a little lap
dog.
The footmen served drinks, while the ladies inspected the
decorations. Tiffany's mother was inspected particularly
closely, as her new, full, youthful looking breasts were of great
interest.
The women also fondled and inspected Cheryl's girlish cones.
The harlequin seemed particularly interested in Tiffany's gaping
vulva, but, generally, Tiffany was only a spectator.
A bell tinkled, and Master, Doc, and the women took their
seats at the table, for the first of many courses. The
centerpiece was much appreciated, and several women kept rising
from their seats to make sure the helpless father was kept in a
continuous state of erection. The Nazi kept reaching under his
scrotum and inserting ice cubes in his anus, which made him
wriggle and amused the women who played with his prick. No one,
of course, would let him actually come. His wife, the cow, was
forced to watch his degradation. Who knows what she thought of
her husband. Tiffany thought it only right that her father
should do his part to earn their pay.
Before desert, while the footmen cleared the table, Doc put
on a demonstration for the assembled women, a sales
demonstration, it seemed to Tiffany. First he pointed out the
beautiful shape of the mother's breasts, how they were as elastic
and youthful as Tiffany's. Then her fondled Cheryl's little
conical tits, remarking how they were very nice, on a 14 year-
old, but hardly optimal for a woman. He wiped them with alcohol.
While the Nazi held Cheryl from behind, hugging her waist, so she
couldn't squirm, Doc injected his proprietary gel, inserting the
needle dozens of times, all around Cheryl's right nipple. With
each injection, Cheryl would groan, trying to stifle a cry, as it
obviously hurt some to have her breast tissue stretched, but the
effect, as Doc continued, was dramatic. Her right breast changed
from a little cone to a full, ripe, womanly breast, the size and
shape of a baseball, a perfect handful. The before and after
comparison, the full, upstanding globe on the right, as compared
with the little girl's tit on the left, had half the women there
ready to write a check for a treatment. Then Doc injected
Cheryl's left breast, carefully matching her right one, as the
gel inflated her tit, stretching the skin, making the nipples, it
seemed, permanently and prominently erect.
While they had desert, fruit and sherbet, a new arrival
entertained the diners by doing a sort of Scottish sword dance
over and around the helpless father. She hopped over and between
the man's legs, seeming about to step on his balls, but she never
did. At first, Tiffany thought she was wearing some sort of
skin-tight costume, but she realized that the dancer, who was no
bigger than Cheryl, was actually tattooed from her neck to her
knees, and she had her head shaved. Her breasts had starbursts
around the nipples. Her hairless crotch was decorated with
devils and the flames of hell, for it was widely held, hundreds
of years ago, that a woman's vagina was a tunnel to the inferno.
Her legs and buttocks resembled a paisley print, and mythical
creatures, dragons and gargoyles, writhed over her belly and
shoulders.
She ended her dance with a split, impaling herself on the
father's erect organ. There was polite applause, as she rocked
her hips, squeezed her vaginal muscles, and milked the poor man
dry as he bucked and strained at his restraints. When she got
off, seminal fluid dribbling down her leg, his big cock, which
had been teased all evening, was limp and shrivelled.
The dancer's "owner", a middle aged woman with a fuller
figure than the other diners, had a word with Doc and wrote him a
check, on the spot. Doc went to the centerpiece, who was still
stretched on the table as if on a rack, and began to swab his
limp organ with alcohol. Not having seen what happened to
Cheryl, the pooped papa probably didn't realize what was
happening until he felt the first needle stab, and there was
nothing he could do to prevent the treatment, and his protests
were muffled by the hood over his head. In fifteen minutes, he
was endowed with a bigger, stiffer prong than he had ever had
before.
Several of the women stroked it and admired it. The one
with the gauzy, Empire dress got a barber pole striped condom
from Doc and rolled it down over the towering meat. She vaulted
onto the table, hiked up her skirts, and sat on his prod,
squirming and giggling until she came, her ivory mounds blushing
visibly beneath their gauze covering, which was damp with
perspiration. When she got off, the tool still stood tall, ready
for another, and in seconds, a woman dressed as Bo Peep was on
the table, pulling off her ruffled pantaloons and taking her
place on the fleshy pole.
The father grunted and bucked his hips, as she rode him. It
made no difference to her if he came or not, and she proclaimed
for all to hear, "I always thought women were superior to men,
because what women have between their legs doesn't wear out.
Well, here is a superior man."
When Bo Peep got off the gleaming, still upstanding pole and
put on her pantaloons, the woman with the hoop skirt took a ride.
Her billowing dress covered the man's body and stood, like a
tent, so tall she could hardly see over it when she sat on the
pole. Peter Pan was next, replacing the condom, which had torn,
and dropping her tights. She elected to sit facing the father's
feet, and she fingered herself as she bobbed on his towering
prick. "Oh, I can feel him coming," she cried, but of course he
was still ready to go, and she continued riding him until she,
too, was satisfied.
Meanwhile, the Nazi, with two or three helpers, Unhooked
the cow and brought her to her husband. Then they removed the
cowbell's from the mother's cunt and fingered her until she was
juicy. They lowered her onto her husband's pole and snapped her
ankle cuffs to her wrist cuffs, so she couldn't raise herself off
it, and she was forced to sit, her back arched, her magnificent
tits out-thrust, on the meat which filled her vagina, a sheath
which was made even tighter by the inflated tail, which still
stuck out her ass.
Peter Pan used the mother's own tail to tickle and whip her,
to make her squirm on the pole. The "man" with the twist hairdo
pulled out a long hat pin and began to prod the mother's buttocks
with it, making her jerk, making the pole inside her jiggle her
internal organs. Someone else reached between the spread knees
and fingered the mother's clit, until she cried out that she was
coming. The "man" stopped prodding her and said, "We still have
another to play with. We can come back to her."
She picked up her lap dog and approached Tiffany, who still
stood, her arms raised, unable to do anything to avoid whatever
"play" they had in mind. Someone poured gravy over Tiffany's
breasts, letting it dribble down her belly. Tiffany, in her dog
costume, was now subjected to the attentions of the little dog,
who was held up so he could lick her breasts clean. The
"torture" was actually rather thrilling, as the animals tongue
rasped across her bursting nipples. Simultaneously, she felt a
tongue between her legs, only that tongue was human and very
skillful. With her perforated lips held apart by rubber bands,
Tiffany's sensitive love-button was fully exposed, and the
sensations of having it licked, as the dog licked her breasts and
belly, sent Tiffany into spasms of ecstasy. With a dozen
torturers to take turns, Tiffany got no relief. No sooner would
the internal earthquake of one orgasm fade into aftershocks when
a new and vigorous tongue would send her again into that spiral
of excitation which could only end with another crashing,
churning, mind-blowing explosion in her belly. When they finally
stopped, Tiffany hung from her arms, her legs too limp too
support her, her skin gleaming with sweat. Someone exchanged the
hooks in Tiffany's lower lips, so that the rubber bands now
pulled them together, not apart, and the sensitive surfaces
responded to the slightest movement. Tiffany, utterly exhausted,
moved as little as possible.
They made Cheryl sit on the bald one's belly, to hold her
down, while four other guests held the tattooed legs far apart.
Doc swabbed the tattooed cunt with alcohol, causing the victim to
yell, "Oh, it burn's. I love it!"
The woman had a barely visible slit, very thin lips, with
the fires of hell design on the skin between the slit and the
crease of her legs. As Doc performed his injections, the outer
lips began to swell, until his patient patient had a magnificent
vulva, lips bulging outward, with a prominent cleft between them.
Cheryl got up, and someone produced a mirror. "Oh, Mistress!"
the tattooed one said, "They're lovely. Thank-you. Thank-you.
I've got a real cunt now."
By now the sun was low, and shadows began to fill the
courtyard. The footmen had finished cleaning up and had quietly
disappeared. A couple of women released Tiffany's wrists and
half led her, half dragged her, into the house. Half a dozen
women again urged Tiffany's mother, still impaled on her
husband's permanently erect pole, to yet another orgasm. When
they finally lifted her off, she was in no condition to walk and
had to be carried into the house.
Tiffany lay prone on a bear skin rug, in front of a roaring
wood fire. Someone pulled on her tail, actually lifting her hips
off the floor, until, with a pop, it pulled free of her ass hole.
The mother was similarly de-tailed. Then the two, mother and
daughter, were bound together in a strange way. The mother's
right leg was pulled up between Tiffany's breasts, while the left
leg spread Tiffany's ass cheeks and ran up Tiffany's spine.
Tiffany's left leg, similarly was between her mother's big boobs,
and her right leg spread her mother's ass.
The ankle cuffs were attached to rubber ropes which were
stretched and anchored to heavy furniture. The effect was to
force the two women's cunts together, at right angles, with all
the force of the stretched rubber, while the muscles of the inner
thighs pressed tightly against the mashed vulvas, pressing on the
sensitive clitorises. Harlequin and Peter Pan tortured the
women, tickling their feet with feathers, so that their
inevitable twitching of the legs had the effect of fucking each
other. Mother and daughter moaned and pleaded, as the
pleasurable sensations drove them crazy, but their tormentors
showed no mercy.
The Mistress of the bald slave asked Doc to test his
handiwork, directing her slave to bend over the arm of an
overstuffed chair. The flaming gates of hell pushed back between
the paisley thighs, as accessible as possible. Doc rubbed the
tip of his rod, condom clad, up and down the flaming new groove,
until it was slick with juices. Then he plunged in and bucked
his hips while the slave screamed that it was fuckin' great! It
didn't take Doc long to unload, and he gently withdrew, noting
the seminal fluid he'd collected in the end of the condom.
The father was still bound on his back, outdoors, and from
time to time, a woman would slip out for a painless meat
injection. The tattooed slave made three trips to the dining
table.
Cheryl became the center of attention, indoors. Some of the
women started to tie her, belly down, on a table, but Doc
objected, not wanting her breasts mashed out of shape. So, they
suspended her horizontally, face down, with a straps at her
shoulders supporting most of her weight and her legs puilled
straight and spread. That left her with her new tits hanging
free, her cute ass in the air, and maximum access to her body,
front and rear. For the next few hours, the women teased and
tortured her, each trying to be inventive. They soon got bored
using riding crops and wooden spoons to spank her ass, and
feathers to tickle her. One woman smeared Tabasco sauce on
Cheryl's anus, just to make her squirm. Another aimed a hair
drier at Cheryl's crotch, to force her to lift her ass. "That'll
give your good abs," the woman joked. Mainly they tickled her,
or touched her with ice cubes, to make her thrash against her
restraints. Cheryl was proud to be the center of attention.
When the guests finally left, and the family was waiting for
Master to blindfold them and take them home, they sat, naked, and
talked. The father looked down at his still rampant penis,
bigger than his wildest dreams, and wondered, "How am I going to
be able to go to work like this? The secretarial pool will go
crazy. Half of them will want a date, and the other half will be
filing sexual harassment charges."
"Master will work it out with your boss," said the mother.
"Keep your suit coat buttoned."
Cheryl giggled and said, "Maybe you should go into another
line of work. Gosh, I love my new titties." She was sitting on
her kitten tail, with the fuzz carressing her naked pubes.
The mother said, "I like mine, too. Doc says they come with
a warranty. If they start to shrink, he'll give you a free
refill."
Tiffany sighed and said, "I can't wait to get to bed. I
lost count, but I think I had a year's worth of orgasms last
night. I'm half dead."
Cheryl, grinned and said, "Never have a mother and daughter
been so close."
"By the way," added the mother, stifling a yawn, "Doc's
giving us all a bonus, for bringing him so much new business."
