Rachel

                         Rachel


     I had only been home a couple of times since Mom's funeral, on leave from
the Army.  When I was discharged, I bummed around a few weeks.  Then I
hitch-hiked home.  It was dark when I went up the front steps of the house.  I
was surprised to find the door locked.   I was even more surprised when a tall,
dark-haired woman answered the door.  She was full-figured, dressed in a
tailored suit that showed off her curves.  She looked thirty-five, maybe forty. 
I didn't know what to say, but she said, "You must be Howard Jr.  I recognize
you from your picture.  Please, call me Mother."

     I guess I just stood there with my mouth open.  "Oh, you didn't know your
father remarried, did you?  We wrote to your last known address, but the letter
was returned, undeliverable, no forwarding address.  Well, come on in.  This is
still your home, you know.  Welcome.  Would you like something to eat?  A cup of
coffee, anyway."

     I went on in, dropped my duffle bag by the door, and followed her to the
kitchen.  The place had changed.  New curtains, things like that.  Kind of
spooky.  "Where's Dad?" I said.

    "He got a better job, with Carstairs.  He's on a run to Duluth.  I don't
know just when he'll be back.  Sugar? Milk?"

     "Black's fine."  I had a thousand questions to ask, but I didn't know where
to start.  "Uh, have you been married long?"

     "About six weeks."  At that point, there was a tentative knock on the front
door.  She motioned to me to stay put, and she went to the door. A moment later,
she was back, with a more slender version of herself, obviously her daughter. 
"Howard, this is Rachel.  Rachel, this is Howard, your step-father's son.  Say
hello to Howard."

     "Hello, Howard, I'm pleased to meet you."  The older woman pointed at the
kitchen clock.  Rachel looked at it and said, "I'm sorry, Mother.  I know I'm
late, and I'm truly sorry."  That seemed strange.  It wasn't much past ten, and
Rachel looked at least eighteen, old enough not to have a curfew.

     "Well?" said her mother, sternly.

     "I suppose I must be punished."

     "Yes.  Howard will do it, now that there is a man in the house.  Rachel,
prepare yourself."  Rachel meekly turned and went down the cellar stairs. 
"Howard," her mother said, "would you like another cup of coffee, while we
wait?"

     "Uh, no, thank you.  What's this business about Howard will do it?  Do
what?"

     "Admonish Rachel.  She's such an unruly child.  I've had to discipline her,
all these years, but it really take  a man's hand.  You won't tell your father,
will you?  He doesn't know how disobedient she can be sometimes.  Now that you
are here, well, I'm sure you will be a good influence on her."

     "I'm not sure I go along with that.  I don't want to..."

     "Howard!  I am your step-mother now, and I insist you to live by the rules
of the house.  We are orderly here, disciplined.  You must do as I say, as long
as your father is absent.  Tell me you will."

     "Well, OK.  I guess so." 

     "Well, I think it's time you did your duty," she said.  She got up and
pointed toward the cellar stairs.  She followed me. It was pitch black, as soon
as she bolted the door.  I felt my way down the stairs and waited at the bottom. 
A match flared, and she lit some candles.  I couldn't figure out why, as there
were electric lights down there.   The first thing I saw was a huge crucifix, in
full color, with blood flowing from Christ's wounds.  Then I saw Rachel.  She
was standing there, stark naked.  The candle light gleamed on her skin, casting
strange shadows, which seemed to ripple across her breasts and linger between
her legs.  I couldn't help it.  I got a hard-on. Her mother went to an old
cupboard which used to hold Mom's canning jars.  "Rachel?"

     "Yes, Mother."       The mother handed me leather cuffs with a short chain
between them.  "Howard, put these on Rachel."  I hesitated.  "Do as I say," she
said, pleasantly enough, as if she were giving me a cooking lesson.  Rachel
walked toward me, her breasts standing tall; I could see that her nipples had
been pierced, and through each one was a gold ring, like an ear ring.  I also
saw she had no pubic hair, as if she'd been plucked or shaved.  I could see her
kind of swelling out, between her legs, and the slit down the middle.  I'm no
virgin, but I'd never had a view quite like that before.  As my eyes adjusted to
the dim light, I could see everything.

     "Uh, Rachel, I really don't like this.  I..."

     "Master," she said, "we must all do our duty.  I have it coming to me, for
disobeying Mother."  She turned her back to me. She had long, dark hair, which
fell down her back like a curtain of black, all the way to her waist.  She
reached back and held her wrists a few inches apart.  I buckled a cuff on each
wrist, wondering what the hell I was doing there, but going along with it,
anyhow.  Mother pulled a rope down from a pulley on a beam overhead.  She
snapped a snap-hook over the chain, and told me to pull on the rope, the other
end. As I pulled on the rope, that raised Rachel's cuffed hands behind her,
making her bend over, so her ass stuck out behind, and her body was about level. 
Her long hair now hung down around her face, almost to the floor.  The rings in
her nipples hung free.  I was told to keep the rope taut, and to wrap the free
end around a cleat on the wall.  Mother handed me a wooden bar, about a yard
long, with leather straps on the ends.  "This is for the ankles, Howard."
Reluctantly, I put a strap around each of Rachel's ankles, which spread her legs
and put more weight on her wrenched arms. It must have been uncomfortable, yet
Rachel did not complain, didn't say a thing.  As I raised up from my task, I
found myself right behind her, my face inches from her crotch.  Her vaginal
lips, entirely hairless, were spread slightly now, and what had been a demure
crease was now opening, showing pink within.  Mother stood beside me, holding a
candle so I could see better. Silently, she reached down and spread Rachel's
outer lips, so her ragged inner lips became visible, glistening with moisture.
They, too, had been pierced, and there were three gold studs fastening them
together.

     "Doesn't that hurt her?" I asked.

     "A necessary precaution, lest she misbehave with boys."  I was speechless. 
"Rachel must remain a virgin until the day she marries, as the Good Book tells
us.  You would never let a boy touch you there, would you, Rachel?"

     "No, Mother."

     "But Master Howard, he can touch you there, can't he, if I say he can."

     "Yes, Mother."

      Mother, however, did not authorize such a thing.  She handed me a long
thin rod, like a fishing pole, with a handle on the end.  "I think, at first,
twenty strokes, for a warm-up.  Rachel,you will count the strokes."

     "Yes, Mother."

     "I've never done anything like this, " I protested.  "I don't want to hurt
her."            "It is your duty, Howard; spare the rod and spoil the child. I
will instruct you," said Mother.  She pushed me aside and stood, feet apart,
almost like a batter in the batter's box.  The limber rod swished through the
air and went splat, bending itself around Rachel's right buttock, rebounding
like a spring, leaving a red mark across her ass.

     "One," gasped Rachel. The second blow was a backhand across the left
buttock. "Two," grunted Rachel.  Mother swung again. Leaving a stripe across the
backs of Rachel's legs, right at the top, where the skin creases.  "Three." 
Bent over as she was, the rod had also hit her puffy cunt lips, bruising them
painfully.  Juices began to run down Rachel's legs, gleaming in the light of the
candles.

     "Observe, how effective it is to lay two blows on the same place."  She
swished the rod exactly where she had before. This time a cry of anguish escaped
Rachel. "I didn't hear you, Rachel," said her mother. "Four."  Mother handed me
the rod.  "You may commence the punishment, twenty strokes."

     "But she already had four."

     "That was just to show you.  They don't count.  The twenty must come from
her master.  Do you need any more instruction?"  I knew I had to do it.  I went
ahead and gave her twenty whacks with the rod, with her counting each one and
sometimes breaking into sobs, which made me stop and, as Mother pointed out,
just prolonged the punishment.  If I didn't hit Rachel hard enough, her mother
made me do it over.  I tried not to hit the same place twice, which meant that
Rachel had pink stripes up and down her backside from above her knees to the
small of her back. When she had called out, "Twenty," she added, "Thank-you,
Master."

     "That was not bad, for a beginner," said Mother.  "Note the effect of a
good caning."  She held a candle close to Rachel's ass.  Her cunt was drenched
with juices.  Mother guided my hand over the inflamed skin of the buttocks and
thighs, over the damp skin of Rachel's cunt lips, which, I swear, quivered when
I touched them.  "Howard," said Mother.  "I see that you are aroused."  I
couldn't conceal the fact that my penis was pushing up on my belt buckle. 
"Rachel, don't you think you should thank your master, for what he has given
you?"

     "Yes, Mother.  Thank-you, Master."

     "I meant you should thank him in a more tangible way, with, perhaps, some
little service which would please him."  Mother pulled on Rachel's arms, to get
some slack, then unhooked the rope from the chain between Rachel's wrists and
let her sink to her knees.  "Until now, Rachel has trained only with rubber
goods.  Now that you are here, she should learn with the real thing."  Mother
undid my belt and unzipped my fly, pulling my pants down enough to let my meat
stand tall.  "Rachel, you can thank Howard for a little while, while I watch." 
Rachel, with her hands still cuffed behind her back and her legs spread by the
bar, moved on her knees across the concrete floor.  "Do you want me to take
those things off?" I asked.

     "Mother wouldn't like it, Master."  Without hesitation, she put her lips
around the knob of my prick.  Oh my, it felt good. I reached down for her tits. 
"Is there something I can do for you?" I asked.

     "Master, I am pleased to have received your blows, for which I thank you. 
It would be sinful to want more.  You are a very good disciplinarian.  I fear I
may find myself misbehaving more often, now that you are here, Master.  If I
should backslide, it would be your duty to punish me more harshly."

     All this talk delayed the blow job, and Mother said, "Rachel, I thought I
had taught you better than that.  Can't you make him come?"  Damn, the mood was
spoiled.  I had been about ready to shoot into Rachel's mouth; but with Mother
watching, I couldn't.  Somehow, it put me off.  "A little more diligence,
Rachel," said Mother, "or you shall be punished additionally."  Rachel slurped
at my rod, her head bobbing like a woodpecker's.  I wanted to cum, but the more
I wished it, the harder it became.

       Mother told Rachel to stop.  "Rachel, you have failed your womanly duty. 
A man must never be left in that condition, lest he be tempted to the sin of
Onan and spill his seed upon the ground."  My prick was standing there, still
wet from Rachel's mouth, and I watched, helplessly, as Mother hooked Rachel's
chain to the rope again.  "Rachel, you will find this unpleasant, of course, but
that is the price of a poor performance." Mother went to the cupboard, took out
a long rubber hose, and went to the laundry tub.  She let the water run until it
was hot, then turned it off and screwed the end of the hose onto the threaded
faucet.  On the other end was a rubber bag, like a big balloon.  Mother
approached Rachel from the rear and deftly inserted the hose into Rachel's ass
hole.  Rachel must have known it was coming and relaxed, or it would have hurt,
with no grease or anything. Mother put my hand on the hose and said, "Please
hold it in, Howard." She turned on the hot water tap, not very far.  I could
feel the hot water flowing through the hose, and I knew it must be almost
burning Rachel's insides.  The big balloon was slowly filling with water,
working its way deeper and deeper into Rachel's rectum.  Rachel, almost hanging
from her taut arms, began grunting, gasping, as if in great pain, as the rubber
bag, uncomfortably hot, stretched her insides.  Pretty soon the pressure inside
was so great that the rubber bag began to stretch her anus and bulge out of her
enlarged opening.  Fascinated, I watched as her little asshole stretched, an
inch, two, until  I was afraid she might tear or something.  I let go of the
hose, and the rubber bag, big as a football, came oozing out, as if she was
having a baby.  "Ahhh!" she cried; I don't know whether it was pain or relief
from the pressure.  The hot water bag plopped on the floor, and I stared at her
stretched anus, not yet closed, showing pink inside.  "Well, what are you
waiting for, Howard?  Fuck her in the ass."   My prick was ready.  In seconds I
plunged it into her, and her muscles clamped down on it ten times harder than
her lips could have.  I grabbed her hips with both hands and bucked and pushed
and fucked her ass.  It was so hot and tight.  Rachel was going "Oh, Ah, OHHH!" 
Either she liked it, or she was a great actress.

     In seconds, I unloaded into her.  It was the first time I had ever fucked a
woman in the ass.  I suppose I should have used a condom, to prevent infection,
but one thing about butt-fucking, it doesn't get them pregnant.  My step-mother
seemed satisfied.  "You have done well, Howard.  I believe I will retire, now. 
You do whatever you think necessary, but remember, the studs stay in."  She went
up the stairs, left the cellar door unlocked.

     I took off the cuffs and the leg spreader.  Rachel just stood there,
gleaming in the candle light, her hair damply over her shoulders.  Her backside
and thighs were pink from her whippings, though the color was fading.  I took a
candle and held it close to her face.  She rose up in her toes and kissed me on
the lips.  I kissed her back with real enthusiasm. "Rachel," I whispered, "I'm
sorry I had to hurt you."

     "Don't be sorry, Master," she replied.  "I am truly fortunate that you are
here."

     "But I whipped you."

     "My mother would have whipped me harder."

     "The hose.  That must have hurt."

     "Mother would not have released it so soon."

     "And then, I..."

     "I am used to that, but my mother uses a very large rubber dildo.  I liked
having you in me.  I gave you pleasure, didn't I?"             "Oh, yes."   I
led Rachel up to the bathroom, and we showered together. I soaped her all over,
being careful not to pull on her nipple  rings.  It took a long time, to get
every nook and cranny clean. Then she soaped me and scrubbed me.  I came in her
hand.  When we had dried each other off, I took her to my old room, and we
shared the bed.  I didn't fuck her again.  We just cuddled and talked and got to
be real good friends.  And, of course, we slept in each other's arms.

                        [end of part one]

               RACHEL, Part Two
                by Libertine



     It was great, waking up to find Rachel's naked body snuggled up against
mine.  The previous night, at her mother's insistence, I had beaten Rachel and
butt-fucked her, but Rachel says she is so happy that I care about her.  I was
confused; I'd had less than eight hours to get used to the fact that I had a
step-mother and a step-sister.  We went downstairs, and Mother suggested Rachel
cook breakfast.  We ate, behaving as if nothing strange had happened the
previous night.  Rachel left for work, and I went out to look for work.

     Rachel got home minutes after I did, and Dad showed up, back from a run to
Duluth, just in time for supper.  He kissed his new wife at the door, and then
he saw me.  "Howard!" he yelled, "You are home."  He pumped my hand, hugged me,
told me how happy he was to see me.  "You've met Priscilla and Rachel, I see. 
Aren't they a pair of beauties?"

     "Yes, I've met them.  And yes, they are quite a pair." Mother smiled at me
approvingly.  Dad and I monopolized the conversation over dinner, as I filled
him in about my life in the Army and he told me about his new job and meeting
Priscilla.  He's a deacon of the church.  She just showed up one Sunday, and one
thing led to another.  "You know," he said to me conspiratorially, "after your
mother died, I wasn't much interested in women.  But Priscilla, she's something
special.  When I realized how she could turn me on, I just had to marry her.  I
tried to invite you to the wedding, but I couldn't contact you; you'd already
been discharged."      After dinner, Dad handed me a twenty and said, "Son, why
don't you take Rachel out tonight?  She doesn't have to work tomorrow.  Stay out
late, at least until midnight."  He glanced at Priscilla, who smiled back at
him.  I was happy enough to do that, to give him and his bride some privacy. 
Rachel and I changed into more casual clothes and stepped out onto the front
porch.  "Rachel," I said as we left, "should we stop at Riley's for a drink?"

     "I don't touch alcohol," she said.

     "An ice cream soda, then?"

     "Let's just go for a walk."  We walked around town until it got dark, and
we found ourselves close to home.  Rachel led me quietly across the lawn and lay
down in the grass, close to a cellar window.  It had been painted over with
black paint, but there were some scratches in the paint, like peep holes, and a
corner of one pane was broken out.  We lay side by side, holding hands, and
peered in.  It was the same part of the cellar that we had been in the night
before, lighted with several candles.  My father was there, still in his work
clothes, pacing the floor.  Then Rachel's mother came down the cellar stairs.
She was wearing a bizarre outfit.  She had on a black hood and cape.  Around her
throat was a leather band, like a dog collar, with gleaming spikes sticking out. 
Her ample breasts were held up by a leather bra, each cup a kind of network of
narrow leather straps, with a gleaming metal stud riveting each intersection of
the straps.  The tip of each cup was open, so that her nipples stuck out. 
Unlike Rachel's, they had no gold rings through them.  Beneath the bra was a
tight leather corset which went from her tits to her hips and gave her an
hourglass figure.  She had high-heeled black boots that reached halfway up her
ample thighs.  Between the black of the corset and the black of the boots was
only pale white skin and a triangle of curly black pubic hair.  Chrome plated
chains criss-crossed Mother's torso, draped across her belly, and her arms had
metal bracelets above and below her elbows.  "Did you miss me, when you were
away?" she said.

     "Yes, Mistress."  His prick hung limp.

     "Don't deny it, you have sinned," she said.

     "Yes, Mistress, I confess, for he who has lusted in his heart has committed
adultery," said my father.  "I deserve whatever punishment I get."  I had never
seen him like this; he always dominated my mother when she was alive.

     "Take off your clothes." He did, hanging them neatly on nails in a floor
joist.  I had never seen my father naked.  Rachel just looked and said nothing.
While Dad was getting undressed, his new wife shed her cape and hood and went
into the dark part of the cellar.  She came back dragging a thing that turned
out to be a pillory, like the pictures of old New England. Submissively, my
naked father put his head and hands in the notches of a lower board, while
Priscilla fastened the upper piece over them.  After that, we couldn't see his
face, just his naked body bent over with his ass toward us. "How many times did
you sin, Husband?"

     "Many times.  I lost count, Mistress."

     "Then you have much repenting to do," she said.  She fitted a black cup
over his balls and laced it into place.  Then she ran hot water from the laundry
tub faucet.  From the cupboard she took out an enema set, poured some liquid
soap into the bag and filled it with hot water.  She slipped the slender nozzle
into his anus and let the soapy water flow.  "Don't let anything come out," she
ordered.  She fitted a bridle-like thing over his face, with a bit in his mouth,
which gagged him.  Father patiently endured this and his enema.  All this was
new to me; I didn't remember our ever owning an enema bag, before Priscilla
came.

     Then she lashed his ass with a cat 'o nine tails from the cupboard.  I
realized the whip must have been soft rubber or something like that, for it
didn't do any real damage.  The cup over the balls protected them.  Still, each
blow left nine pink stripes on Dad's ass, until it was pink all over.  Priscilla
surveyed her handiwork and walked around her pilloried husband, commenting on
the consequences of sin.  Soap bubbles oozed out from between my father's
buttocks, and Priscilla screamed, "Hold it in, or I shall give you twice as much
next time."  She gave him three more lashes, as hard as she could.  A stream of
soapy water poured forth. "Howard," she said, "I'm disappointed with you.  You
disobeyed me."  She repeated the enema procedure, twice.  I was amazed that Dad
could hold it all, a gallon or so of hot, soapy water.  When she had removed the
nozzle, warning him again not to spill a drop, she postured in front of his
face, taunting him.  She fingered her bushy cunt, while he was unable to do
anything.  Finally, she said, "All right, Howard, you may let go of the water
now."  Water gushed out, spraying soap suds on the floor. The soapy water ran
slowly toward a drain in the floor.  Then she let him free of the gag and of the
pillory.

     His penis now stood tall.  Priscilla bent over a padded bench, presenting
her backside to him, the curly fur coat of her cunt contrasting with the pale
white skin of her ass and thighs. "A wife should never leave her husband in such
a state of arousal, Howard.  You may relieve yourself, now."      My father
plunged his prod into her from behind and fucked her violently, holding her hips
as I had held Rachel's.  Priscilla must have been aroused, too, for Dad's prick
slipped right in.  It didn't take long before he was pumping his semen into
Priscilla's cunt.  When Dad had withdrawn from her, she lay down on her back on
the bench, with her feet on the floor either side of the bench and her knees
spread.  "Howard," she said, "wash me, with your tongue."  Submissively, my
father got down and put his head between her thighs.  She reached down to hold
his face against her as he lapped at her damp bush.

     "What do you suppose they'll do next?" I whispered to Rachel?

     "I think they'll be a while, doing that. Mother seems to enjoy that.  We
can't go back in the house until they are done. They will expect us to stay out
until midnight."

     "Has anyone ever done that to you?"

     "No, never.  You are the first man who has ever touched me there."       
"Where should we go now?" I said, quietly into her ear.

      "There's the old barn, behind the house," she whispered back.  I helped
Rachel to her feet, and we tiptoed across the darkened lawn to the garage.
Rachel and I slipped into the old barn by the back door.  It had once been a
stable, but there had been no horses for years. It simply smelled of old hay and
dust.  An ancient Hudson sedan was parked behind the big sliding barn door, up
on blocks.  To our dark adapted eyes, just enough moonlight seeped in so we
could find our way.  Rachel, without being told, climbed the ladder to the hay
loft.  She climbed a great mound of hay and sprawled across the top.  The door
in the gable, where they had hauled the hay up, was open, letting in the ghostly
moonlight.  Through the door we could see the back of the house, but, of course,
no one could see us, deep in the shadows.  A light was on in our parents' room.

     "Rachel," I said, "you are the most beautiful woman in the state."

     "You are just flattering me."

     "No, I mean it.  Just looking at you makes me wild with desire."

     "It is not right for a woman to so tempt a man.  If I could hide myself, I
would."

     "You know I have seen you naked, soaped every bit of your body.  We slept
naked in each other's arms.  You can't take the memory away from me, so it would
do no good for you to hide." "But still, it is wrong for me to incite lust in
you."  "Take off your clothes." "No." "Do I have to do it for you?"  "Yes."  I
reached for her, but she rolled away.  I reached for her again, but she threw a
handful of hay at me.  "I mean to have you naked, Rachel." "You will have to do
it yourself."  I chased her across the unsteady surface of the hay; she was
quick and agile.  At last, I caught an ankle, and she tumbled, face down, in the
hay.  Quickly, I sat on her legs and dragged her skirt up over her back.  There
wasn't much she could do to stop me.  I had to reach behind me to take off her
shoes, one by one. She wasn't wearing pantyhose, just white cotton panties.  I
pulled at the waistband, trying to pull them down over her hips. She wriggled,
as if trying to escape, by the effect was to make it easier for me.  However, I
could slide the panties only as far as her mid-thighs, for I was sitting on her
knees.

     When I shifted my weight, to pull her undergarment under me, she squirmed
and tried to get away.  I rolled her on her back, and she put both feet against
my chest, trying to kick me away.  In the resulting scramble, I grabbed her
wrists and wrestled her face down, over my lap.  I could hold her there with one
hand, and with the other fondled her fleshy ass.  She squeezed her legs
together.  I tried to force my hand between them, right at the top. "OW," she
squealed.  I gave her a firm but playful spank on her upturned buttocks and
said, "Be quiet, wench."  She was quiet.  I worked her panties downward until
they bunched around her ankles.  The white skin of her fleshy globes seemed
almost to gleam in the gloom. Tenderly, I stroked the smooth skin with my finger
tips.  Rachel just lay there, lying across my legs, her face in the hay, her
knees pressed together.

     For a long time, it seemed, I was content to fondle her ass and to trail my
fingers up and down her thighs or tickle her behind her knees, which made her
squirm.  Whenever she moved, her hip would rub my tall pole, through my jeans,
and I thought I might ejaculate just thinking about her.  I found a dried weed
stalk in the hay, and I used the end to gently prick her tender skin.  It caused
her to giggle and wriggle on my lap, and that really turned me on. I pulled her
blouse free of her skirt, reached up her back and undid the hooks of her bra. 
But then I couldn't keep myself from attending to her beautiful bottom,
stroking, poking, squeezing, until I could hardly control my lust.      Without
warning her, I wrestled Rachel onto her back and pinned her down with my weight. 
Her skirt was bunched at her waist, and in seconds her blouse and bra were
pushed up to her arm pits, exposing her beautiful breasts with their rosy
nipples. On her back, Rachel could have used her arms to push me away, to
scratch and fight, but she lay there, passive, allowing me to do what I would. 
I kissed her forehead, her eyelids, her ears, her mouth.  Then I addressed each
breast in turn, kissing, then licking, then gently sucking, taking each of the
gold rings carefully into my mouth. "Why do you torment me so?" she whispered. 
"Have I displeased you?" I wedged my body between her knees, spreading them
wide.

     I kissed her belly, there below the bunched up skirt, and said, "Rachel, my
love, I am not punishing you.  I am worshiping you."      "That is sacrilege. 
One can worship only God," she said, but she drew her knees up higher,
contracting her stomach muscles, so I could get an even better view of her
upturned slit.  Reverently, I kissed her mons, kissed each vaginal lip.  I
lifted her knees with my arms and shoulders, so that she didn't have to exert
herself, and I began to blow on her inner thighs.  Rachel sighed, relaxed, and
lay back in the hay. I found, as I licked her, that her pubic hair was beginning
to grow back.  In contrast with the silky smooth of her ass and inner thighs,
there was just enough stubble in her crotch to increase the friction of my
tongue on her most private places. "Oh, Howard," she moaned, "you make me think
impure thoughts.  You mustn't." I slipped the tip of my tongue between her outer
lips, which parted easily.  I could taste the pleasant juices which drenched her
cunt.  When I tried to lick her inner lips, the metal studs which sealed her
tunnel got in the way.  But above the studs was another bump.  Her little
clitoris, like a pea, was accessible in her gaping groove.  I clamped my lips
upon it, and she moaned.  I sucked it into my mouth until I could flick it with
the end of my tongue, and she gasped for breath.  I opened my mouth and licked
furiously.  "Oh. Oh. Aaahh," she cried, and she tried to clamp her thighs over
my ears. To have a woman respond like that is the thrill of a lifetime.  I
licked and sucked without relenting, as Rachel moaned and heaved her hips and
pleaded, "Oh, Howard, don't torment me.  I can't stand it."  I couldn't count
her orgasms, as she writhed under me, thrashing her arms, turning her head this
way and that, and making animal-like noises in her ecstacy.


     At last I released her and sat back.  My face was wet with her juices, and
my tongue ached from hard work.  Rachel was utterly spent, sprawled there in the
hay like a rag doll, covered with perspiration.  The wet, white skin of her
breasts and thighs reflected the faint moonlight, contrasting with the darkness
of the barn.  I noticed that the kitchen light was on in the house.  I knelt
beside her and kissed Rachel on the mouth. Dreamily, she put her arms around me
and kissed me back.  My hand fell on her breast.  "Mmmmm," she hummed through
our kiss. Then we just held each other, lying together, there in the hay.  My
prick still strained at my jeans, but Rachel was so relaxed, so dreamy, that I
wouldn't ask her to take care of that. There would be time, later.

     The kitchen light went out, and a minute later, the bedroom light went out. 
"I guess we can go home now," I said to Rachel. "Mmmm?" "Time to go home."  I
helped her up.  Her panties were still around her ankles, full of hay.  Had I
simply pulled her panties up, she would have had bits of hay pressed into her
crotch.  It was easier just to have her step out of them.  I fondled her
breasts, briefly, and put her bra back where it belonged.  We tucked her blouse
back in her skirt and tried to pull the hay from her hair and clothes.

     In the solitude of the summer night, we walked together across the lawn,
holding hands.  A gentle breeze stirred her skirt, and she shuddered at the
unfamiliar feeling of cool air on her naked cunt.  Quietly, we let ourselves in
the back door and made our way to our room.  I had been home for only a day, but
already I was in love.

                [to be continued] 

                         RACHEL, part III
                      
     Father went on another long, interstate delivery run, and my step-mother
grew cranky and irritable.  She accused Rachel of losing her mother's favorite
kitchen knife and ordered her to the basement. When I refused to punish Rachel,
Priscilla said she would do it herself.  Rachel undressed by candlelight while
her mother and I watched.  The pillory which Priscilla had used on my father was
still set up.  She installed Rachel with her neck and hands clamped in place,
low enough that she was bent at the waist.  I could not help admiring Rachel's
beautifully shaped buttocks, gleaming in the candle light, and my penis stood
tall in my loose slacks.  "Stealing is crime enough to warrant your punishment,"
hissed Priscilla, "but you have also sinned against God, with impure thoughts. 
You have tempted your brother to lust for you.  What do you have to say for
yourself?"

     Rachel remained silent.  Priscilla went to the infamous cupboard and
returned with an assortment of hardware.  She hung weights from the rings in
Rachel's nipples, pulling her breasts into pendulous cones, like stalactites. 
She put the leg-spreader bar on Rachel herself, not asking me to do it.  That
exposed all of Rachel's genital area to view.  She put clamps on each of
Rachel's beautiful, bare labia, the ones I so liked to kiss.  She put a round
pipe on blocks under Rachel's feet, to raise her ass higher and to increase her
discomfort.  I seethed inwardly, to see the object of my love so abused, but
there seemed little I could do.  "Confess your sins, Rachel, so we can get this
over with," said her mother.  Rachel remained silent.  "Since there is no
repentance, the punishment is doubled: fifty blows."

     "No!" I screamed. "That would kill her."

     "What do you know, Howard?  She is my daughter.  I'll punish her, while you
watch."  She used the rod again, skillfully, methodically, striking hard,
putting livid stripes across Rachel's buttocks and thighs, while the tormented
girl counted the strokes.  At number sixteen, one of the clamps was jarred loose
from Rachel's cunt lip, leaving yet another red contusion.  At twenty-two, the
other clamp pulled loose.  Rachel's bruised outer lips gaped open; I could see
the wet groove between them, and the three studs which fastened her inner lips
together, to preserve her virginity.  At twenty-five strokes, Rachel was still
bearing up well to her punishment, but her mother decided to pause.  "Rachel,
confess your sins," she insisted.  Rachel said nothing.

     "Priscilla," I said, "I know of no sin of which Rachel is guilty."

     "She causes her mother pain.  I must sleep alone, while you and she share
the same bed!  You can't tell me she has not tempted you to impure thoughts,
perhaps even impure actions.  How do I know that she hasn't removed the studs
and let you ruin her?"

     "You know because I assure you that she has not, and I have not removed
them, and even if they were removed, I would not participate in her breaking her
promise to remain a virgin until she marries."

     "I will look for myself!"  Rachel's mother took a candle and held it close. 
I'm sure the Rachel felt the heat on her tender lower cheeks.  She roughly
spread Rachel's cunt lips, wet with vaginal juices, and began to unscrew the
studs, pulling each out as it came apart.  She tried to part the pink inner
labia, but, for a moment, they seemed stuck together.

     "Perhaps, Priscilla, they have grown together, proof of her virginity."

     "Nonsense!  I remove them every time she has her monthly period."  She
pulled the tender membranes apart and peered within.  Apparently satisfied, she
replaced each stud and screwed it down tight, tight enough that Rachel cried out
in pain.  In spite of my promise not to touch them, I resolved to loosen them
the first chance I got.  I stepped closer to Rachel, appalled by the
thoroughness of her beating, the degree of redness and swelling of her bottom. 
She would surely have to sleep on her tummy tonight.  And the punishment by
Priscilla was only half over!  The twisted mother went to the cupboard and
returned with a large rubber bulb which had a long, black tube protruding.  I
think it was from an auto store, for filling batteries or some such mundane use.
Priscilla filled the bulb with clear fluid; I smelled turpentine.  Then she
sqirted  Rachel's red vaginal membranes.

       "Oh, God, it burns!" cried my love.  I moved to stop her mother, who
quickly thrust the stiff tube into Rachel's anus and emptied the rest of the
bulb's contents into her bowels.  "Aaahh!" cried the victim.  It was more than I
could stand. I wrestled my step-mother to the floor of the basement.  She fought
back, until I found a length of rope and tied her hands behind her.  Then I
released Rachel from the pillory.  My lovely "sister" was clearly in pain.  I
removed the weights from her nipple rings and tried to figure a way to relieve
the burning inside her. From the cupboard I took one of the infamous torture
hoses, hooked it to the faucet in the laundry tub, and turned on cool water.  As
best I could, I washed Rachel's inflamed genitals, even directing the stream in
between the studs, as her mother had injected the burning fluid deep into her
daughter.  What the hell, I loosened them and douched Rachel's inflamed love
tunnel with a powerful stream of water.

     I had to pause, to hobble Priscilla, for she had struggled to her feet and
was screaming imprecations, maledictory curses and threats.  I tied her ankles
together, my rage giving me extra strength, and then I tied her ankles to her
wrists, making sure she could not get up again.  Then I directed the stream of
water into Rachel's rectum, hoping the cool water would relieve the burning. 
Still, Priscilla shouted.  "Priscilla," I said, if you do not desist, I'll have
Rachel shit on you."

     "I couldn't do that to my own mother," Rachel said.  I forced Rachel to
stand straddling her mother's body, and I held the long hose in her anus, even
after water began to leak out around the hose.  "Howard," said Rachel, "I'm
going to explode."   I pulled the hose out of Rachel's rectum and watched with
satisfaction as brown, smelly water gushed onto the woman on the floor.  That
shut her up.  "Rachel," I said, "bear this a little longer.  Let me know if it
hurts too much.  I inserted the still running hose again, waiting until the
internal pressure caused her anus to stretch and as much water leaked out as
went in.  "This will clean you off, dear step-mother," I said, as I released
another fountain from Rachel's bowels.  I did it again and again.

     "Please, Howard," Rachel said, "stop."  I did.  "I'm sorry mother," she
said.  "I couldn't help it."  I let Rachel go.  She squatted over the drain in
the floor and let the last of her awful enema drain out.  I began to think that
perhaps I had behaved badly, that I should release the wretched woman I had so
degraded.  The knots in her ropes were wet, hard to untie.  I went to the
cupboard to get something to help me release her.  It was there I saw the knife.

     "This is the same knife you accused Rachel of stealing," I said calmly. 
"You took it, you framed her, so you could punish her."

     "So you could punish her, Howard."

     "Yes.  The first night I was here, you made me punish Rachel and fuck her
ass, knowing I would like that and be your accomplice in the future.  The
problem is, I've come to love Rachel.  I don't want to hurt her.  On the other
hand..."  I used the knife to cut the ropes which bound Priscilla's feet to her
wrists.  I pulled her up and forced her neck and arms into the pillory.  Then I
locked her into it.  I removed the leg-spreader from Rachel and placed it on my
step-mother's ankles, forcing her to stand on the pipe.  Now, except that she
was clothed, she was in exactly the same condition that she had placed her
daughter in.  Rachel cowered in the shadows, appalled at what I had done to her
mother. "Rachel, your mother punished you for a crime she herself committed. 
You should punish her," I said.

     "I can't," she said.  "She's my mother."

     "She's not my mother," I said. "I must administer justice myself."  I
yanked at Priscilla's cheap cotton house dress, without much effect.  So I used
the knife.  I took my time, cutting away the shit-soaked dress, cutting away her
underthings, leaving her entirely naked. "Priscilla," I said, "confess your
sins."  She remained silent.  "You stand convicted of bearing false witness. 
You shall be punished."  I picked up the rubber bulb and filled it with
turpentine. My step-mother's bare bottom was thrust out, her cunt clearly
visible between her spread legs.  I fingered her furry cunt lips. I picked up
the fallen clamps and placed them on her labia.  She gritted her teeth, but
would not cry out.  I thrust the black tube deep into Priscilla's vagina.  Then
I expelled the contents into her.  The effect was immediate.  She groaned and
made mewling noises through her clenched jaws, bouncing up and down on her toes
and shaking her ass, as if that would lessen the burning of the fluid inside
her.  I refilled the bulb filled her rectum with irritant.  "An eye for an eye,
Priscilla; that's God's law," I intoned. "You gave Rachel twenty-five strokes,"
I continued.  "You shall receive the same.  Count them out loud, Priscilla."  I
whacked her with the rod.  She didn't count.  "They don't count, unless you
count them, Priscilla."  I whacked again, as hard as I could, leaving a big red
welt across her ass.

     "One," she croaked.  Whack.  "Two."  On number sixteen, I slashed downward
with the rod and knocked both clamps off her cunt.  As they clattered to the
floor, I was reminded of the weights.  I put the fallen clamps on her nipples,
and hung the same weights upon them which had tortured Rachel's breasts.  Rachel
covered her eyes with her hands.

     "Let's see, Priscilla, where did we leave off on the count?" I whipped the
rod just where I knew the tip would strike her swollen cunt lips.  She gasped,
then managed to call out, "Seventeen."  After the twenty-fifth blow, she said,
"Howard, I'm burning up inside."  I picked up the still running hose and
adjusted it to its coldest and strongest setting.  Then thrust the hose deep
into Priscilla's cunt.  Water gushed out over my hand; I could see her inner
lips fluttering in the flow.  My prick was so swollen, I felt like fucking her
then and there, but I restrained myself.  Instead I applied the hose to her
rectum.     She cried out, and almost instantly the pressure stretched her anus,
so water sprayed over my hand.  I pulled the hose and watched her spew the
contents of her bowels on the floor.  I repeated, again and again, until only
clear, cold water gushed out of her.  I played the cold water over her inflamed,
red ass cheeks; it probably reduced the pain a bit.  Then I left her there in
the pillory to savor the indignity of it all while I hosed off the floor and
sluiced the last of the shitty water down the drain.

        Rachel removed her hands from her eyes.  "Howard, how could you do that
to my mother?" she said.      "Justice must be done.  Now, here I am with a
stiff prick.  I think I'll fuck her ass."

     "No, Howard, no.  Do it to me, instead," said Rachel.  I went back to
inspect my work, noting that Priscilla's clitoris was standing tall, like a
little penis.  I went back to the cupboard and found a variety of appliances, at
least half a dozen dildos and vibrators.  "I'll bet she's used these on you,
hasn't she, Rachel."

     "Yes," she admitted.

     I selected the items I needed and prepared for the next phase.  First, I
took the biggest dildo I could find and slowly pushed it into Priscilla's
vagina, stretching her inner lips with its thickness, pushing on her womb with
its length.  The dildo had straps, to hold it on when someone used it to fuck
another person.  The same straps could be used to hold it in.  I buckled the
waist strap, led another up between her buttocks to attach at the waist, behind. 
I took one of the hoses which had a balloon to hold it in place.  Pushing the
dildo strap aside, I inserted the hose and pumped up the balloon.  It would not
come out until Priscilla's ass hole stretched to a couple of inches, perhaps not
even then, as the dildo strap pressed the hose in.  I connected the hose to the
faucet and let a mere trickle of hot water enter the hose.  It might take an
hour to fill Priscilla; I'd let her savor the slow torment of her bowels,
stretching slowly, inexorably, as the water gurgled into her.  Oh, yes, one last
thing.  I selected a vibrator, slipped it into the hollow dildo,  and turned it
on.  I could imagine the vibrations would be transmitted by the fluid in her
bowels, until her whole abdomen shook.  I found a plastic covered mat and laid
it on the floor in front of Priscilla, almost under her nose.  I led Rachel to
it and made her recline on the mat, placing a pillow under her lower back, to
relieve the weight on Rachel's battered backside.

      "Observe, Priscilla, how Rachel gets what she deserves."  With the utmost
gentleness, I began to kiss and caress Priscilla's daughter, right there in
front of her.  As I had in the barn, I began by kissing her eyelids, her ears,
her mouth, her neck, her breasts.  I spent a long time on her breasts, sucking
them into my mouth, licking them.  I progressed down Rachel's belly, until I
came to her shaven mound.  I kissed her reddened labia, licked them, then buried
my tongue between them.  Rachel moaned and bucked her hips, raising her vulva to
meet my mouth.  She shuddered with a crashing orgasm.  "Howard," she cried, "I
love you."  I paused to let her relax, while I checked on Priscilla.  The
vibrator still chugged away, still stretched her sheath to the limit.  It was
drenched with wet; Priscilla was sexually aroused.  Behind, I tested the hose. 
She was filling up, perhaps a few quarts had flowed into her, but the pressure
wasn't yet high enough to damage her.  The fluid would be gurgling ever higher
into her bowels, almost boiling her from within.  If it was not yet causing her
real pain, she was at least suffering from the anxiety, the expectation, that
the ache within her would soon become an excruciating pain.  How like Priscilla,
who got her sexual kicks from inflicting pain on others, to suffer both pain and
sexual stimulation simultaneously.  I returned my attention to Rachel's crotch,
quickly bringing her to a series of rapid-fire orgasms which left her sweaty and
exhausted. Without a word from me, she got up, rolled over, and presented her
bottom to me.  "Howard," she said, "I want you inside me."

     The studs were still in her inner labia; I could not enter her proper love
tunnel.  To do so would have been appropriate punishment for her mother, who had
put the studs there in the first place, but Rachel had long ago accepted them
and was resolved to preserve her virginity.  It wouldn't be fair to Rachel. 
Instead, I took off my pants and very gently placed the end of my painfully
stiff prick against the rosebud of her anus.  I could feel her relax.  It
slipped in, and it felt so good, to be inside my Rachel, that in seconds I had
ejaculated, pumping my seed into her.  "Oh, Howard," she sighed.  "That's
wonderful."  Almost reluctantly, I withdrew.  "Rachel," I said, "why don't you
go and get our bed warm.  I'll be up in a little while."  Rachel got to her
feet, dreamily, and slowly climbed the stairs.

     "You see, Priscilla, you have taught me well.  I had never ass-fucked
anyone, until you made me do it to Rachel.  Some punishment."  Priscilla replied
in halting gasps, as if the pressure in her abdomen made it difficult to talk. 
"Howard, it has all gone according to plan.  Rachel loves you, and you love her. 
I made it happen.  No one would think a young man would fall in love with his
sister, but I made it happen, in only days.  Take good care of her, Howard. --
Ah, I'm going to be ripped apart!"   I released the straps on the big dildo. 
The pressure in her bowels, squeezing her vagina, forced it out like a bullet. 
I grasped the hose, still secured by the blown up balloon inside her anus, and I
yanked on it.  Her ass hole stretched frightfully, and then the balloon was
expelled by a gush of hot water like the stream from a fire hose.  It splashed
against the walls and ran in rivers toward the drain.  It was followed by lesser
squirts, as her gut contracted in spasms, emptying itself.  "Oh, my lord,"
exclaimed Priscilla.  "I haven't felt such relief since Rachel was born."  I
fingered her swollen cunt, and I'm sure she had an orgasm, maybe several.

     "Well, Priscilla, what am I going to do with you now?  I still owe you
twenty-five strokes, but I don't want to bother with that, now.  Later, maybe,
if you don't behave yourself.  I could just leave you there, in the pillory, but
if your legs gave out, you might choke."  I released her neck from the wooden
yoke, cuffed her hands behind her back, left the leg-spreader on her.  I laid
her, belly down, on the mat and threw an old blanket over her. "Contemplate your
sins, Priscilla, while I make love to your daughter," I said, as I blew out the
candles and went up the stairs.

                        [to be continued]

                         RACHEL, part IV
                       By Howard Hellespont

     When I woke with the dawn, my lovely Rachel still slept, on her tummy, her
legs in a vee and her beaten backside exposed, for even the weight of a sheet
would have hurt.  She did not have to go to work, so I let her sleep.  I turned
on the coffee maker. Then I went down to the cellar, turned on the lights, and
looked at Rachel's mother.  She was in the same pose.  The leg spreader forced
her legs into a vee, and she had managed to shrug the blanket off her well
beaten ass.  She looked so much like her daughter, except for a more voluptuous
figure.

     I went to her room and got her leather bra and corset.  I found some more
things in the cupboard.  Priscilla still slept, or pretended to, but I wakened
her with a stroke of the cat 'o nine tails across her ass.  "Howard," she
pleaded, "let me go."

     "If I simply let you go, Priscilla, you will continue to abuse my father
and your daughter. You have a choice.  You can go, out of this house, leaving my
father, or you can stay, and mend your ways.  What will it be?  Go or stay?"

     "I'll stay," she replied.

     "If you can't take your medicine, you have only to dress and leave, but you
won't be welcome back."

     "I'll take my medicine."

     "Priscilla," I replied, "you need corrective training.  Your sadistic
impulses must be curbed.  You must learn humility.  By the time my father comes
home, you will be a different woman."    I picked her up, while her legs and
wrists were still cuffed, and made her stand while I dressed her.  I put the
black leather corset on her, which went from below her large breasts down to her
hips.  I laced it tight, very tight.  Then I took her leather bra, the one which
was a net of leather, with metal studs at the intersections.  I turned it inside
out, so the points were inside, and put it on her, very tightly.  The soft white
flesh of her breasts squeezed out between the thin leather strands of the
network cups, and her nipples bulged outward through their holes.  From the
cupboard, I took the bridle which she had used on my father and placed it over
her face, the bit between her teeth.  Then I released her hands and feet, so she
could walk.  "You will do what you are told.  Do you understand?"  She nodded. 
"Go into the kitchen and wait for me," I ordered.

     In the kitchen, I poured myself a cup of coffee.  "Thirsty?" I asked.  She
nodded, standing there, naked from the hips down. I removed the bit from the
bridle, so she could drink or talk, but left the straps in place, as a sort of
symbolic gag.  Then I took an empty plastic half-gallon milk jug and filled it
with tepid tap water.  "Drink this," I said. Without replying, she began to
drink.  "You will drink half a gallon every hour, until I tell you you can stop,
is that clear?"

     "Yes, Howard."  I fished an empty gallon jug from the recycling bag and set
it on a chair.  "When you need to pee, you will straddle this and urinate into
it.  Mind you don't spill any.  You will get nothing to eat, until you fill this
jug."  I watched her drink the water. "Now, you will prepare a breakfast tray
and take it to Rachel.  If you are not sufficiently subservient and polite to
her, I will gag you again."

     "Yes, Howard."

     "Rachel," I said, when we had gone upstairs, "I don't want you hurting
yourself by sitting up.  Your mother will feed you."  I watched as Priscilla,
whose own ass must have been sore, fed her daughter breakfast in bed.  Rachel
remained prone, probably confused, while Priscilla fed her, scrambled eggs,
toast, a bite at a time, and held the coffee mug to Rachel's lips.  When she was
finished, I told Rachel that I wanted her to stay in bed all day, except for the
bathroom, of course. Downstairs, I watched as Priscilla began her task of
collecting a gallon of urine, and I made her drink again.  "I am going out for a
while," I said.  "I want you to stay here until I return, unless Rachel requires
your services, or you need to drink more water."  I went shopping, mostly at
Radio Shack, and I bought a nice cigar.  When I returned, the gallon jug was
full, and Priscilla was standing patiently in the kitchen.  I suppose it hurt to
sit down.  "You didn't cheat by adding water to the urine?" I asked.

     "No, Howard."

     "Fix us some lunch."  I went upstairs to see Rachel.  She was still lying
on her tummy, but she had a book on the floor and was reading.  "Are you resting
comfortably?"  "Yes, my love."  One of my purchases was a large bottle of lotion
which contained a soothing local anesthetic.  I warmed some in my hands and
smoothed the lotion over Rachel's backside.  She liked that. I put some on my
finger and coated the inside of her anus.  She liked that.  I had her raise up
on her knees, while I lay on my back between her legs and licked her love button
until she came. She liked that.  Then I had Priscilla bring her some lunch.  By
then, the lotion had relieved the pain, and Rachel sat up in bed to eat.

     Back in the kitchen, I told Priscilla, "You are learning well.  As a
reward, you may bend over the table."  She planted her tits against the table
and I smoothed the lotion over her sore ass.  She liked that.  I did not lick
her cunt.  When we had eaten, I went to prepare my next training aid, which
involved using the tube which contained the cigar. When I returned, Priscilla
was in the process of filling another jug with her pee.  "If that bra is hurting
your breasts, I can fix that," I said. "Yes, please, Howard."  I took it off,
massaged her breasts with the lotion, and put the bra back on, properly,
loosely, with the studs on the outside.  "Thank you, Howard," she said. "When do
you expect my father?"  "About four."  "Good," I said.  "When he returns, I want
you dressed just as you are.  And this is how I want you to behave..."  When I
had explained all that, there was one more thing to do.  I inserted the cigar
tube, which now had little metal pimples on it, into her rectum.  Her anus
closed over it, so that all that showed was about a foot of plastic covered wire
which hung limply between her legs.  I held in my hand a small radio
transmitter, from a toy car.  "I will demonstrate this once.  I trust I shall
not have to do it again," I said. "Yes, Howard."  I pressed the button on the
transmitter.  The radio signal pulsed the circuits in the cigar tube, sending
about 100 milliamps of current through the muscles of her rectum.

     "AHH!" she cried, stiffening, then relaxing, as the current ceased.  "At
the first sign of disobedience, I can do that again. And if that doesn't teach
you, I'll put another in your cunt."

     "Yes, Howard, I'll do whatever you say."

     "I'm going to give this to my father, if you don't behave like a proper
wife."

     "Yes, of course, Howard."  I kept her busy the rest of the afternoon,
cleaning house, doing laundry, preparing a special dinner for Dad.  I didn't
have to use the new training device, and when we heard my father coming, I
pulled it out.

     Rachel and I watched surreptitiously as father came in the house. 
Priscilla was there to greet him, wearing her leather but stark naked from the
hips down.  "Well, this is a surprise," he said.

     "I thought you might have missed me," Priscilla said.  She dropped to her
knees and unzipped his fly, right there in the front hall.  "Let me make it up
to you."  She began to suck on his penis, and it sprang to attention.  In
seconds, he had his pants off and was fucking her with enthusiasm.      "When
we're married, Howard," Rachel whispered to me, "will you greet me like that?"

     "Would you like that?"

     "Yes, Howard."

                              [END]

Rachel, part 5

     The house was French Provincial style on a spacious hillside lot with a
spectacular view.  It had a three car garage and a couple of Mercedes parked in
the driveway, also an assortment of more common cars as guests arrived.  It
reeked of money. My wife,Rachel, and I had met our hosts, Brian and Madeline, at
church, one of those swinging churches.  We recognized some of the other guests,
at least by sight, but we didn't know anybody well.  Madeline, dressed in a very
chic outfit, served wine and cheese while we all got acquainted, more or less. 
Some of the guests had partied here many times.Others, like Rachel and me, were
first timers.

     "OK," said Brian.  "Does everyone know the rules?  We're going to act out
some fantasies.  We've asked you all to submit suggestions.  Those of you who
didn't will just have to take pot luck."  Rachel and I had not described our
favorite fantasies.

     Madeline contributed: "Remember, no penile penetration of anybody without
protection.  We don't want anyone to go home with more than they came with.  If
anyone feels that the fantasy is more painful than they can stand, yell
'elephant.'  That's the code word to stop.  You can go home, and the rest of us
can carry on.  Of course, it goes without saying, you have all released the
others from any liability, and what goes on here is private, not to be talked
about outside the church.  Any questions?  Those of you who brought costumes,
now's the time to get dressed.  All of you, please take your shoes and socks or
stockings off.  We'll all meet downstairs in the playroom."

     We followed the few who were not changing clothes down the stairs to the
basement.  There was a bar, a fire crackling in the fireplace, and marches
playing on the sound system.  An X-rated video played from the VCR, with the
sound turned off.  Rachel and I watched and drank some wine while the other
guests came down in ones or twos.  The video involved three beautiful young
women and two studs, cavorting in and around a hot tub.

     Then Brian and Madeline came down, wearing similar uniforms.  I guess they
were supposed to be some sort of military police, with brown slacks and shirts,
riding boots, and some sort of rank insignia on epaulets.  Brian looked quite
handsome in his outfit, tanned and muscular.  Madeline had left her shirt mostly
unbuttoned, showing a lot of cleavage. "Prisoners," she announced, "I am Captain
Lopez.  You will address me as Captain.  This is Major Krupp.  You have all been
arrested for crimes against the state, for concealing vital information, but we
have ways to make you talk." Major Krupp opened a door and herded us all in with
a wave of his riding crop.  The interior was dimly lit with candles, the walls
concrete painted to look like stone.  Madeline lined us up along a wall and
shackled our wrists to chains in the wall.  I looked over at Rachel, who grinned
at me.  The music on the sound system changed to a sound effects record of
people screaming.  The effect was eerie.

     Madeline stood before Art, a young lawyer, I believe, who was dressed as a
peasant.  She held her riding crop under his chin and hissed, "Tell me where you
are hiding the guerrilla leader."  Art spat at her.  "You will pay for your
insolence!" she shouted.  She tore at his shirt, which tore away as if it had
been prepared for that.  Similarly, the seams of his trousers gave way, leaving
him naked.  The major helped her unshackle him.  He did not resist, as they
bound him with straps.  She cuffed his hands behind his back, then tied him
elaborately with ropes, pulling his forearms together and his shoulders back. 
She fitted him with a sort of leather jockstrap which looked uncomfortably
tight.  She put straps around his ankles and upper thighs, pulling his heels up
against his butt, forcing him to kneel.  The major assisted her in putting a
strange mask on his face, which forced his jaws apart and held his tongue down. 
"This is so you cannot relieve your pain by swallowing your tongue," she said to
Art.  "When we are through with you, you will tell us all we want to know." 
They finished by putting a collar around his neck and chaining it to a ring in
the floor with a short chain, so that he was doubled over.  She gave him a
couple of licks with her riding crop and said, "Well, who is next?"

     The major went over to a large, dark woman who, like the rest of us, was
shackled to the wall.  She was wearing an off the shoulder blouse and a patched
peasant skirt.  He tore at the blouse, which, it turned out, was held together
with Velcro.  Of course, it came off in his hands, exposing her big breasts. 
The skirt came off, too, revealing a great bush of black pubic hair. "What is
your name?" he barked. "Mademoiselle Aubra, Major," she replied."Well,
mademoiselle, if you wish to escape the pain of the lash and the branding iron,
you will obey without question.  Is that clear?" "Yes, Major, sir." The captain
unchained Aubra and said, "Choose a victim."

     Aubra pointed at me.  The two women stripped me and strapped me,
speadeagled, to an X-shaped wooden cross, almost like a crucifiction, except my
weight was on my feet.  The captain took off her shirt entirely, displaying her
nice, medium sized breasts in front of me.  She took a large, black vibrator
and, reaching between my legs, shoved it up my ass.  I hadn't planned on that,
but it didn't hurt much, after the initial shove.  She turned it on, and the
buzz against my prostate had my penis standing tall in a second.  "This man's
torture will be to watch what we do to his wife!" she said.  "Seize her!"  She
pointed to Rachel.

     Rachel looked genuinely frightened for a moment, as Aubra, stark naked, and
the captain, topless, stripped the clothes off her.  It wasn't difficult, as
Rachel was wearing a bandeau top, which pulled off, and stretchy tights, which
similarly pulled off.  The major brought out a padded saw horse, which he set
down in front of me.  The two women put cuffs on Rachel's wrists and ankles. 
Her ankle cuffs were then anchored to the legs on one side of the saw horse and
they bent her double over the padded cross bar, fastening her wrists on the
other side, opposite her ankles.  Her exposed ass hole and shaved cunt were
staring up at me.  Her face, upside down, looked up at me from below her cunt. 
She gave me a fleeting smile of reassurance that she wasn't hurt. "Now, swine,
you will talk, or your wife will suffer for your silence," said the captain. 
"Very well, prisoner," she said to Aubra, "commence the torture, the water
torture, at first, I think."  Aubra brought out a garden hose.  (She obviously
knew her way around this torture chamber)  She first of all wet down Rachel with
cold water.  Rachel's nipples puckered in response to that.  Then Aubra
concentrated a strong spray on what she thought were vulnerable spots.  She
played the water back and forth across Rachel's breasts, making them sway from
side to side.  She directed the stream between her legs, driving her outer labia
apart.  "Enough," said the captain to Aubra.  "Apply phase II." Aubra brought
out a hose with a balloon on the end.  I've seen one of those before, I thought. 
I'd seen Rachel's mother shove one up her ass.  Aubra, however, slipped the hose
into Rachel's vagina and held it place with thin straps around Rachel's thighs. 
The captain pointed at the rosebud of Rachel's anus, just feet in front of my
face.  Aubra smeared some lubricant on it and then inserted the conical tip of a
big rubber thing.  She pushed, until Rachel cried out.  "Ah, she will talk
soon," said the captain, which might have been a signal to stop hurting Rachel. 
Aubra pushed a bit more (it think the rubber was flexible) and held it in with a
strip of adhesive tape across Rachel's buttocks. The major stood by with two
clear plastic domes which had tubes extending from them.  The captain greased
the edges and fitted them over Rachel's breasts which, because her torso was
head down, already stood out from her chest.  The major went to some controls,
out of my sight, and water started to flow into the domes.  It forced air to
escape around the edges, until the domes were full, and water leaked out.  Then,
suddenly, the domes sucked tightly down against Rachel's chest.  Her breasts
visibly expanded into the clear water.  They turned the saw horse so that
Rachel's back was to me, and the other prisoners could see what was happening. 
"Suction on the breast tissue," he explained, "has been known to make even the
toughest female prisoners compliant."  They replaced the saw horse, so I could
look between Rachel's splayed legs and see her tits turning pink in the suction
machines.

     There was one more torment to be applied.  Aubra turned on water to the
hose in Rachel's vagina, while the captain observed the effect.  She focussed a
spotlight on Rachel's cunt, so she and I both could better appreciate what was
happening. The water pulsed,filling the balloon in spurts.  The balloon grew
larger, filling Rachel's vagina, spreading her inner lips, stretching her,
almost as if she were having a baby.  But the pressure could build up only so
far.  Then the water sprayed out vents around the base of the balloon, impinging
on Rachel's stretched opening and especially upon her clitoris.  Rachel flashed
a wan smile to reassure me, but then the look on her face changed.  I knew the
meaning of that expression; she was turned on, turned on good.  The water
pounded into her, stretching her cunt perhaps a hundred times a minute, and each
stretch was relieved by a gush of leakage that spurted right on Rachel's love
button.  She strained at her restraints, tried to move her immobilized body,
heaved great gasps and made mewling noises like a hungry kitten.  My guess is
that she was having an orgasm a minute.

     Another male prisoner, Mike, was stripped and strapped to a sawhorse much
like Rachel's.  They gave him an enema which had him howling in protest and
spewing shit on Art, who was still chained with his face against the floor. 
When they were done with the enema, they found Mikes's wife and stripped her of
her clothing. She was a skinny blonde, the kind who has tits like lemons and a
wide space between her hard, muscular thighs.  I guessed that she dieted
constantly, worked out three hours a day, and would never be thin enough, by her
standards.  The captain put nipple clamps on the end of the blonde's conical
little tits.  While the major spread the blonde's legs, Aubra lubed her little
blonde bush and shoved a big double headed rubber prick inside, strapping it on
with straps to her waist and between her legs.  But for the tits, she looked
like a particularly well hung boy, with about eight inches of fat rubber prick
rampant from her crotch. They showed her off to the rest of us and then led her
to Mike.  The major adjusted the height of Mike's saw horse.  Aubra held the
blonde's hands, pulling her toward Mike, bending her over while the captain
steered the rubber prick into Mike's ass.  They made his wife fuck his ass,
whipping her buttocks from time to time to increase the vigor of her thrusts. 
She began to shriek and cry out, "Oh, God! Oh, fuck! Oh, Jesus, it's making me
cum!"  Mike didn't look too happy, to have his wife so enjoy fucking him, but he
bore up under the assault to his ass.

     While this was going on, the major came over and appraised Rachel's
condition.  She was close to exhaustion, having been sexually stimulated to
countless orgasms, each one burning up calories.  He released the straps which
held the hose in her cunt, and the balloon pumped itself out of her in jerks,
until it fell to the floor in front of me.  Rachel's vaginal walls had been so
exercised that they had lost their muscle tone; her cunt gaped open.  I could
look in, see the bright red walls of her overstimulated love tunnel.        When
Mike's ass hole began to wear out, and his wife was almost as spent as my
Rachel, they tied the blonde's wrists down and left her, draped over Mike's
back, her prick still in his ass.

     The next prisoner to be "interrogated" was a redhead, a big roly-poly woman
who had, I think, came to the party alone.  She, too, had dressed like a
peasant, and they tore the clothes off her easily.  They cuffed her hands behind
her back and paraded her around for all to see.  Her pubic hair was as red as
her head.  She was a fleshy woman, well rounded.  Her shoulders were round.  Her
huge breasts were round, but punctuated by what might be the biggest nipples
I've ever seen, the size of my thumb.  Below her breasts her pale belly swelled
almost as if she were pregnant. (I'm sure she wasn't)  Fat bulged out above her
cunt, almost like an apron, half shielding the slit from view. They brought out
a thing like a child's swing, Two A-frames on wheels with a cross bar.  They sat
her big ass in a canvas sling and strapped her wrists to the supporting ropes. 
Then they lifted her feet and strapped them far apart and high up by her wrists. 
Now her cunt was very prominently displayed between her great pale, fleshy
thighs.  The slit, only thinly veiled by her curly red hairs, was vertical.  Her
huge breasts with their incredible nipples squeezed out between her upraised
knees.  Her feminine attributes were there for all to see.  The major put a
spotlight shining on them and set her swinging.

     The captain, childlike in comparison to the fleshy one, proceeded to whip
her with a cat 'o nine tails.  The lashes seemed to be rubber tubing; they did
no damage, but the redhead's pale skin turned pink as the captain lashed her
huge buttocks, thighs, and, of course, her thrust-out vulva.  She must have
found it stimulating, for she became quite wet.  The captain spread the fiery
cunt lips (I noticed the captain had long nails) and ran a finger up and down
the fiery red groove.  "This one resists our efforts to make her talk," said the
captain.  "We'll take care of her later."

     There were four prisoners still chained to the wall, a thin man named
Robert, his date, and two women, who had arrived together.  The pair of women
were stripped and bound with straps, tit to tit, belly to belly, with straps
under their arms, around their waists, between and around their upper legs. 
Then the four wrists were strapped together and they were lifted off the floor,
to hang pressed together.  Robert was "crucified", much as I had been, with a
vibrator up his ass, and that left Robert's date as the center of attention.

     The captain and the major snapped big whips, threatening the woman until
she took off her own clothes, quite a long operation, as she had ignored the
advice to remove her pantyhose, and she had a longline bra with half a dozen
hooks in the back.  Perhaps she was another novice; there's always one who
doesn't get with the program.  The two "policepersons" suspended the last one by
her wrists from a rope and pulley from the ceiling.  That was only temporary,
however, for they rolled up a mechanical horse, the kind you see outside
supermarkets for kids to ride on.  You put in a quarter and it bucks for a
while.  This one was a little different, bigger, with a real leather saddle.  It
had another difference; sticking up out of the saddle was a big rubber penis.
The major made a big thing of lubricating the woman's cunt, and then the three
torturers lowered the woman onto the penis and fixed her feet in the stirrups. 
When she was all in place, quite unable to get off the impaling prong, they
loosened the rope which had supported her weight, letting her still bound hands
hold the reins.  It was a subtle thing.  By "posting", straightening her legs,
she could raise her butt a little off the saddle, but not far enough to clear
the rubber tower in her cunt.  If she relaxed her legs, she sat solidly on the
thing, which drove into her, filling her vagina and mashing her outer lips with
her own weight. The captain turned on the horse, which rocked back and forth
with a churning sound from its motor, slowly at first, then faster and harder. 
The impaled woman held onto the reins as her torso was flung back and forth and
her cunt was fucked more violently than any man could have done it.  Sweat
gleamed on her chest.  Her nipples stood tall as her breasts jiggled.  In maybe
twenty seconds, she was jabbering and crying that she was coming.  The captain
watched carefully for a while, then switched off the horse.  "Are you going to
tell us where the stolen papers are hidden?" "No," the woman gasped.

    "We'll get back to you.  Think about it," the captain said. She turned her
attention to the "sandwich" of two women who still hung from the ceiling.  She
whipped them with her soft cat 'o nine tails, making them swing and twist on
their suspending rope.  Then she lowered them enough that they could stand on
tip-toe. "Well," said the major, "it has been a disappointing session.  None of
the prisoners has talked.  This calls for more drastic measures."            So
far, no one had called a stop.  I was still strapped to my cross, with my pecker
hard as a rock and a vibrator in my ass keeping it that way, but I had suffered
no pain.  The guy, Robert, was similarly bound, and his prod stood tall, too. 
Rachel was draped over her saw horse, right in front of me.  Her ass hole was
stretched by the rubber plug and her breasts were being "tortured" by the water
machine, but, orgasmically spent as she was from the "water torture", she seemed
in no pain. The all-girl sandwich was just standing there.  The horsewoman,
Robert's date, who sat tall in the saddle with a rubber penis in her cunt, was
also in repose, more or less.  The redhead was in her swing, with a spotlight
aimed at her cunt, but she seemed in no discomfort.  Mike was still strapped to
a saw horse, with his wife on his back and a double dildo joining them.  Judging
from the way his wife squirmed from time to time, she was likely enjoying it,
even though her efforts to frig herself were fucking her husband's ass.  Art,
the lawyer, was still chained to the floor by his neck and spattered with Mike's
shit. The sound system still provided a background of screams.  I have read that
the physiological response to fear and the response to sex involve the same
nerves.  The fearful screams, which also contributed to the sense of unreality,
seemed to turn on some of the prisoners. I wondered how this was orchestrated. 
Was Robert's fantasy to be crucified, to see his date horseback riding while
impaled on a prick?  Who's idea was ass fucking by Mike's wife?  His or hers? 
Or somebody else's?  The redhead, who was on display in her swing -- many people
would think her fat and ugly,rather than Rubenesque and feminine.  Were these
parties perhaps her only sex life?  Did she long to have people look at her
naked with appreciation, not disgust?  And Art, the lawyer who was shit upon,
did he enjoy that?  I think so.

     The major called out, "Mademoiselle Aubra, she has not yet been properly
interrogated.  Perhaps she will talk."  He and the captain hustled the naked
woman onto a table, on her back, and strapped her down, spreadeagled, with her
arms and legs spread.  Before they secured the second leg, the major took a
vibrator with a long thin tail on it in slipped the tail into Aubra's ass.  When
they tightened her down, the handle, with the batteries, lay between her legs,
while the vibrating tail snaked into her rectum. Mademoiselle Aubra, of course,
said nothing.

     The captain came over to Rachel and gave her a perfunctory swipe on the
buttocks with her whip.  "You.  We will need another assistant."  She released
the suction on the tit stretchers and removed the plastic domes.  Rachel's tits,
pinker than the rest of her, actually did look bigger, from my viewpoint.  She
left the plug in Rachel's anus and the cuffs on her wrists and ankles but
released the chains which held her to the saw horse.  Rachel was slow to get up. 
The captain urged her on with a few blows of the soft whip. Rachel's job now was
to apply the water torture to Aubra.  When she hesitated, the major gave her a
painful nip on the ass with his riding crop.  She was more obedient then.  I
watched her constantly, naked but for the cuffs and the butt plug.  The captain
snatched off the adhesive tape, and the plug fell out.

     Rachel put the plastic domes over Aubra's breasts, and the captain went
through the procedure of filling them with water, then applying suction. 
Aubra's tits swelled, trying to fill the domes, and she squealed little cries of
excitement.  She had her eyes fixed on them, fascinated by the sight of her
breasts rising up into the plastic domes. Rachel fitted the hose with a fresh
balloon into Aubra's cunt before the woman on the table fully realized what was
happening, though she had participated in Rachel's "torture."  Rachel fastened
the straps around Aubra's thighs, so it wouldn't come out. When the captain
turned on the water, Rachel just stared, watching close-up what had been done to
her.  Of course, Rachel had been unable to see what was happening in her crotch. 
Spurts of water filled the balloon, stretching Aubra's sheath to its utmost. 
Then the pressure would release in a spray on Aubra's clit, and the cycle would
repeat in less than a second.  This simple hydraulic engine was fucking Aubra's
cunt and tickling her clit with tireless ferocity.  Aubra clenched her teeth and
lay still for, I don't know, a minute or two.  Then she started straining at her
straps, rocking her hips, and vocalizing loudly.  Evidently, English was not
Mademoiselle Aubra's native tongue. The captain stood by the controls.  She cut
the flow, let Aubra catch her breath.

     The major turned on the horse again, which chug-chugged at an ever
increasing pace.  Robert's date went through the whole "torture" again, first
trying to keep the rubber pillar from wrecking her vagina, finally being
overcome and raped into oblivion, an ecstasy of rapid-fire orgasms.  The horse
slowed to a walk and then was still.

     About that time, spray started again in Aubra's crotch; the hydraulic
machine must have been on a timer.  We all watched as Aubra did her thing,
writhing in ecstasy as she was raped by water.  When Aubra was reduced to
blubbering idiocy, the water shut off and they left her, stretched upon the
table, panting for breath.

     Next, the "police" directed their attention to the female sandwich.  The
two women, strapped tit to tit, belly to belly, had not been penetrated, neither
cunt nor ass.  Perhaps they had a thing about that.  That did not mean, however,
that they were to be spared sexual stimulation.  The captain and Rachel spread
their legs with leg spreader bars.  The major hoisted them higher, so their
asses were about the level of his head, and he stood like a fireman playing warm
water between their legs with a hose.  The women had been kissing each other,
but the play of water on their cunts soon had them gasping and wriggling against
each other, as much as there bonds would permit.

     Rachel and the captain released Mike's wife and then Mike.  Mike lost no
time in removing her dildo, plopping her on a mat on the floor, and screwing her
violently.  Since they were married, they didn't bother with a condom.  Mike's
wife wrapped her slender legs around his ass and her arms around his body and
acted as if she would never get enough of his prick.

     The captain straddled Art, pissed on him, then stuck the tail of one of
those rat-shaped vibrators up his ass.  "Fuck all lawyers," she said.

     The sandwich ladies seemed exhausted from their "torture", so the major
turned off the hose and lowered them to where they could stand on their feet. 
The horse started again, reaming Robert's date, and the hydraulic fucker started
in on Aubra a gain.  Their squeals of ecstasy drowned out the screams of the
sound system. Meanwhile, the captain and Rachel had been having a little
discussion on the side.  With the major's help, they wheeled the swing with the
voluptuous redhead until her cunt was opposite my groin.  Rachel carefully
covered my upstanding penis with a bright orange ribbed condom.  Then she tried
to steer my prick into the redhead, without a lot of success.  The major
released my hands, so I could bend my knees to improve the alignment. 
Meanwhile, the captain was fondling the redhead, getting her even more ready for
sex.  She took some "Superglue", instant glue which hardens with moisture and
has all sorts of warnings not to get it on your skin.  She put a few drops on
the prisoner's inner thigh and then pressed one of her fleshy outer lips against
it for a few seconds.  She repeated the gluing on the other side, and now,
instead of a slit, there was a gaping funnel. Rachel pulled the vibrator out of
my ass and held my stiff prick horizontal, while the major pushed the swing. 
Now it couldn't miss, and my condom-sheathed penis plunged into the redhead's
vagina.  Rachel took over from the major and pushed the swing back and forth,
not enough of a swing to let my prick slip out.  The redhead grinned at me and
tried to look down between her monster breasts to watch what was fucking her
cunt.  Rachel seemed to have a sense of what would do, stopping if she thought I
was near coming, so as to prolong the "torture."  Sometimes the redhead's sheath
would slide over my penis ever so slowly, and other times she would be slammed
against me, her soft ass squashing me against the cross which supported me.

     I was so intent on the delicious sensations that I didn't notice what the
captain and major had done, until I saw that Robert's date was off the horse,
sprawled, exhausted on the floor, and Robert was busy humping the captain, while
the major served Aubra, using an incredible French tickler with fingers on it
about an inch long.  Aubra's cunt had been so stretched by the water torture
that the large diameter didn't bother her.

     When I had ejaculated into the redhead, into the condom in the redhead,
Rachel released me and told me I had better finish the job with my tongue.  As
the prisoner's labia were held gaping apart, her clitoris was fully exposed and
readily accessible to my mouth.  While I concentrated on that clit, Rachel
watched the woman's reactions and coached me on technique.  When she judged the
prisoner had been "tortured" sufficiently, she released the redhead from the
swing. The woman kissed me passionately and then buried my head in her boobies,
to the point that I could hardly breath, immersed in their softness.  Rachel
said, "Suck her nipples, or I'll whup your ass."   I did.  While I was doing
that, someone released Art, and he went off to shower and dress.

     At last the redhead was sated.  "My name is Clarice," she whispered.  "You
could ask for me next time."  I noticed I could hear her clearly; the screams
had stopped.  Clarice did not head for the showers immediately.  She discovered
that when she walked, her labia, still glued to her legs, rubbed together.  She
wandered around, savoring the effect and trying different strides.

     Robert finished with the captain, dropped his now heavy condom on the
floor, and headed for the showers.  The shower door was open; they were communal
showers, with several shower heads on hoses, for "personal hygiene."  The major
and Aubra also headed for the showers.  The captain, well fucked by Robert,
reverted to being Madeline and solicitously released the sandwich women, who
kissed each other and went hand in hand to the showers. Rachel took the cuffs
off her legs and ankles, and we went to the showers together.  Oblivious to the
other bathers, we soon got to fooling around, spraying each other, and I ended
up fucking her standing up, all soapy.  When I had finished, we heard clapping,
and Rachel blushed.

     We rinsed off and recovered our clothes from the torture chamber.  Back in
his role of gracious host, Brian, dressed in a polo shirt and shorts, offered us
refreshments, which I declined, as I had to drive.  Madeline, wearing a black
body suit, took Rachel aside, and asked her to write down some fantasies.  Brian
asked me to do the same.  I won't tell you what I requested, and I don't know
what Rachel wrote, but as we left and Brian called, "See you next month," we
were both excited, anticipating the next party.

Rachel, 6


     Rachel and I were both excited about our second visit to the big house on
the hill.  Our host, Brian, and hostess, Madeline, greeted us an invited us to
help ourselves to drinks while the other guests arrived.  I didn't drink,
because I didn't want to hurt my performance, but Rachel had a few.  I
recognized guests from the month before: Art, the masochistic lawyer, Mike and
his anorexic looking wife, Thalia, Clarice, the voluptuous redhead I had fucked
last time, and the two "sandwich" women, Julie and Iris.  As we chatted we found
out that Julie and Iris share an apartment, as I had suspected, and are both
elementary school teachers.  Robert didn't show up, nor his date from last
month, "the horsewoman."  Aubra was there, and two new participants who wanted
to be called "Ken" and "Barbie" and looked just like their namesakes. "OK," said
Brian.  "Does everyone know the rules?  We're going to act out some fantasies. 
We've asked you all to submit suggestions.  Those of you who didn't will just
have to take pot luck."  Rachel and I had submitted suggestions, but we hadn't
told each other about them.

     Madeline contributed: "Remember, no penile penetration without protection. 
We don't want anyone to go home with more than they came with.  If anyone feels
that the fantasy is more painful than they can stand, yell 'elephant.'  That's
the code word to stop.  You can go home, and the rest of us can carry on.  Of
course, it goes without saying, you have all released the others from any
liability, and what goes on here is private, not to be talked about outside the
church.  Any questions?  OK, let's go downstairs."

     There was the usual fire in the fire place, and the X-rated video tape. 
This time it was a nurse-doctor romp.  The music was "easy listening."  Brian
and Madeline came down in white lab coats.  "Dr. Brian will see you now," said
Nurse Madeline, and we all filed into the other room. The "secret police torture
chamber" was changed.  Now there was a row of chairs for us to wait in, no being
shackled to the wall.  The walls were covered with white paper and mirrors,
mirrors on the ceiling, too.  The lighting was bright, with several spotlights
as well as the room lights.  There was a gynecological examining table and some
hospital-type beds.  I could believe Dr. Brian was a real M.D.  The nurse
selected Barbie to go first.  She got up and, as requested, disrobed.  She had a
spectacular body, like the plastic doll's, and she must have been proud of it. 
Certainly she showed no shame.  She hopped up on the table and put her feet in
the stirrups, exposing her perineal region for the doctor's examination.  With
all the mirrors, we all got a good view."What seems to be your problem, Miss
Barbie?" inquired the doctor.

     "Oh, I just don't seem to be quite right.  There's some sort of congestion
down there," she cooed as Nurse Madeline strapped her to the table with a belt
across the shoulders, above her beautiful breasts.  (I had thought Rachel's were
great, but Barbie's were incredible)  She strapped Barbie's feet in the
stirrups. "Well, let's take your temperature," said the doctor.  He took out a
battery powered anal stimulator and, after applying some surgical jelly to her
rosebud, slipped the "thermometer" through her anus.  He taped the battery part
to her thigh. Then he took a vaginal speculum, a gadget like a pair of shoe
horns.  I had seen metal ones, but this was clear plastic.  He applied some more
jelly to her labia and slipped the "shoe horn" jaws into her.  A couple twists
of a screw and the jaws spread apart, exposing the pink walls of her vagina.  He
held up a mirror, so we all could see.  I could see quite clearly the neck of
her womb, the cervix, and her clitoris, at the top, where her labia were forced
apart.  Then the nurse began to grease Barbie's beautiful boobs. Dr. Brian took
two clear plastic domes, the kind he had used on Rachel the month before. 
However, instead of the "water cure," he simply pumped some of the air out. 
Barbie squealed with delight, saying, "Oh, doctor, I feel better already."

     "Please take a seat," he said, as his nurse unstrapped the beauteous
(bleached) blonde.  Barbie got down off the table and walked awkwardly to her
chair.  She had to walk with her knees apart and bent, for the speculum forced
her thighs apart.  She sat on the edge of her chair, admiring herself with a
hand mirror, looking at the pink walls of her love tunnel, which she had
probably never seen before, watching her nipples standing tall, even oozing a
bit of fluid, inside the clear plastic titsuckers, and all the while the
vibrator was buzzing in her bum.

     The next patient was Art, who seemed to need bondage.  The doctor put
clamps on his nipples, a gag in his mouth, cuffs on his wrists which were then
attached to the sides of a wide, tight, black leather belt.  Next came the cuffs
on the ankles and a leg-spreader bar.  I helped the doctor to deposit him on his
back on the floor.  Dr. Brian looked into Art's eyes and said to his nurse, "I
think this patient needs something more."  Madeline dutifully rammed a vibrator
up Art's ass and put a plastic cylinder over his cock.  She pumped on the
cylinder, giving Art a huge erection which he could do nothing about.  She
finished with something like Ben-Gay on his scrotum which, of course, feels like
it's burning.            Aubra is a large, dark woman.  She undressed when asked
to and complained that she had some sort of skin condition.  The doctor placed
her on a gurney, one of those wheeled beds they use to transport patients, and
had his nurse strap her down.  Then he called on Julie and Iris, who also
disrobed.  Neither of them is a raving beauty, but the sight of so much young
cunt did have me aroused.  Nurse Madeline gave them each a jug of lotion and
instructed them to rub it into Aubra, all over.  The two young women started to
work, beginning with a loving massage of Aubra's toes and feet.

     When Ken got undressed, I marvelled at his physique.  He was about
six-four, tanned all over, muscled like a weight lifter, which, I suppose, he
must have been to get muscles like that.  I assumed he'd want to screw Barbie,
but he was assigned to Art.  He easily lifted the lawyer and put him on a bed. 
He pulled off the plastic penis expander, rolled a condom onto Art's prick
(nurse insisted), and took the whole of Art's meat into his mouth.

     Clarice was next, and she undressed.  Clarice is all woman, with enough
flesh for two.  Her breasts are enormous, with nipples like thumbs.  Her soft,
pink thighs are each as big around as Rachel's waist.  She was made to lie tummy
down on one of the hospital beds.  Nurse Madeline cranked the bed so that it
humped in the middle, lifting Clarice's huge buttocks upward.  Madeline used
straps to part Clarice's legs, exposing her bulging labia with their sparse coat
of red hair.  Madeline used surgical jelly to lubricate the area, though Clarice
seemed to be providing plenty of juice of her own. Mike's wife, Thalia, got the
same treatment, on a bed beside  Clarice.  The contrast was incredible.  Thalia,
who was as thin as they come, this side of a Nazi concentration camp, had a
scrawny little ass and mostly empty space between her thighs.  Her outer lips
were thin, almost invisible, while her inner lips hung raggedly exposed. Rachel
got the bed on the other side of Clarice, and was strapped down with her ass in
the air.  It reminded me of the first time I had seen Rachel naked, when her
mother had made me fuck her ass.  God, was I stiff.

     However, when Nurse Madeline undressed me, joking about the size of my
prod, I was not allowed to fuck my wife.  Madeline greased my pole and slipped a
rubber sheath over it, with a sort of rubber band around my scrotum to keep it
on.  It was more than a condom, more like a hollow penis, and three inches
longer than I was, and bigger around.  She led me to the middle bed, where
Clarice was. I had had my prick in Clarice the month before; I guessed she had
asked Brian and Madeline make me do it again. Nurse Madeline instructed me to
screw the eyeballs out of Clarice, but not to let myself come.  I climbed up on
the bed, between those huge thighs, and inserted the rubbery end of my huge
prick between those fleshy lips.  Then I fell on that soft ass as if I was
jumping into a vat of Jello.  Clarice gave a little cry of delight, and I
proceeded to stroke in and out. In the position she was in, her huge ass got in
the way; I couldn't pound up against her cunt lips, but the my longer penis
could still probe deeply enough to beat on her cervix.  Clarice went crazy, said
she'd never had such a great fucking, and I became quite immersed in my work.

     While all this was going on, Mike got to fuck his own wife and, when he
came too soon (which I gather was a chronic problem), Nurse Madeline equipped
him with a rubber prod, too.  Thalia screamed that she was coming, but Mike just
kept it up, making her come enough times to make up for a month of premature
ejaculations.

     While I was rogering Clarice, I looked over at my wife, Rachel, who smiled
at me.  She was living out her fantasy, to repeat the night I had first met her
and her mother.  Barbie, who had ditched the twat spreader but retained her
titsuckers, was whipping Rachel's ass.

     I looked to see how Julie and Iris were doing with Aubra, and saw that now
Julie and Iris were getting the lotion massage.  Aubra made it more interesting
by spreading the lotion with her tits, alternating between the two women, who
seemed to have a thing about equal treatment.

     Ken had rolled Art over and was fucking his ass, while Madeline checked to
see that the condom, didn't break. Thalia called "elephant," the signal to stop,
and she was sent to the showers.  Mike wanted to help Aubra, but the doctor
said, "No, Julie and Iris don't want to be touched by a man.  Stand by, you can
help with Barbie."

     Finally, Clarice was satisfied.  She just wanted to lie there and watch. 
Barbie was still playing "mother."  She had stuck a hose with a balloon on it
into Rachel's rectum, and was filling it with hot water, stretching her open. 
It was deja vu all over again. Nurse Madeline, naked now, was at my side,
removing my rubber augmenter.  As soon as I was free of it, I went to Rachel's
side and held her hand.  "Tell Barbie it's time," she said. "Not until I get
this on him," said Nurse Madeline. "For God's sake, she's my wife," I retorted.
"House rules," she said. Barbie let go of the hose, and the balloon oozed out of
Rachel's stretched ass hole.  As soon as it plopped to the floor, I climbed up
and plunged my stiff prick into Rachel's hot ass.  Oh, it felt good!  I pumped
my pole into her rectum, feeling the heat and the squeeze of her anal sphincter
muscles as they returned to normal size.  I exploded inside her.  "Wonderful,"
she sighed, and she meant it.  Still, I didn't think she had come, so I fingered
her cunt until she shook with a real orgasm, and then I rolled her over and
sucked on her little clit, savoring her orgasms, until she begged me to stop.

     When Rachel and I came up for air, we looked to see what had become of
Barbie.  She was back in the stirrups again, but by now she had shed her
hardware.  Aubra had one beautiful tit and Mike the other, and they were
massaging and oiling them.  Dr. Brian had inserted, instead of the speculum, the
"water torture" device which had so exhausted Rachel at her first party. A
special control delivered warm water in pulses, up a hose to a balloon, not much
different from the one which had recently stretched Rachel's rectum.  In this
case, the balloon was stretching Barbie's vagina, but every time it filled to
the point you would think something would tear, the pressure would be released
through little jets to splash on her clitoris and labia.  With Barbie, it was
taking about five seconds per cycle.  Rachel and I watched as Barbie's labia
stretched into a circle and the balloon began to bulge out, like a newborn
baby's head.  Then, swoosh, the water would splash against her clit, and Barbie
would gurgle with joy, as the balloon went limp and her vagina contracted. Dr.
Brian watched this with a professional eye and gradually turned up the cycling
rate.  When it got to about once a second, Barbie went crazy with multiple
orgasms, screaming her head off.  Dr. Brian released the straps, and the
hydraulic fucking machine fell out of Barbie's gaping cunt.

     Ken and Art had gone to the showers, as had Julie and Iris. Aubra and Mike
went off together, and Rachel soothed Barbie, giving her an all over rub, as she
recovered from the "water torture." "I've never experienced such orgasms,"
Barbie said, and then, looking at herself in the overhead mirror, "Oh, my hair!"

     The five of us went to the communal shower room.  Brian, Madeline, Rachel,
and I all helped Barbie, who stood there passively as we soaped, scrubbed, and
rinsed her.  She loved the attention, the more the merrier.  When Barbie went
off to repair her hair, Madeline asked if she could wash me, and Rachel said,
"Yes," before I could.  Brian attended to Rachel, and then Rachel washed him,
giving him a "hand job" in the process.Madeline said, "Well?"  I soaped her,
rinsed her, and gave her a "hand job", gently, gently pressing on her vulva,
increasing the movement and pressure ever so slowly, until she wriggled with an
orgasmic spasm, and another, and finally whispered, "elephant."

     Pleasuring a woman really turns me on, and my prick needed satisfaction. 
Rachel was ready and willing.  I backed her against the shower room wall and
rammed my rod into her, lifting her off the floor.  She wrapped her legs around
me and bounced on my spear until we both came, which didn't take long.

     Back upstairs, Brian, now dressed, and Madeline, wearing a shorty,
see-through nightie, offered us drinks.  "Great party," I said.  "I got to act
out my fantasy." "Me too," added Rachel.  "You know," she mused, "Julie and Iris
seemed short changed.  Was their fantasy just to get rubbed down?  Is that what
lesbians do?" Madeline replied: "Julie and Iris aren't lesbians.  They are just
two young women, virgins, who are reluctant to engage in sex, hetero or homo. 
Maybe it's religious upbringing, or fear of failure, or fear of disease or
pregnancy.  They've a perfect right to their views.  These parties give them sex
without guilt."

     "Not much sex," said Rachel. "Last month they both experienced orgasms,
maybe for the first time," said Brian.  "This month, they experienced touching
another person, and being touched.  Slowly, their experience is expanding.  My
guess is that, perhaps in a year or two, they will both be happily married, to a
man."

     "Doctor Brian," I said, "you sound like a social worker, hosting these
parties for the benefit of Mankind." "Yes," said Brian, "I feel that way.  What
sort of therapy do you want next month?  You haven't filed a fantasy." "I'll
take pot luck," I replied. "OK," said Brian, "plan on being my assistant."

Rachel 7

     Our third party at Brian's big house on the hill was another surprise. 
Rachel dressed in an off the shoulder white blouse and a longish skirt with
elastic at the waist, no underwear.  At the usual wine and cheese gathering,
before the real action begins, I surveyed the guests. Art, the masochistic
lawyer was there.  Aubra, dark, middle aged, was a regular.  Julie and Iris, the
virginal school teachers, came together.  A foursome arrived, "Vixen," a tall
woman with close-cropped hair, a slender blonde who was introduced as "Rose,"
and two middle-aged men, "Stan" and "Dave." Brian made the newcomers sign a
statement agreeing to the house rules: no unprotected sex, no liability or
blame, no talking about the parties outside of church, and an immediate
cessation if a person says "elephant."

     Since I was to assist Brian, I went with him and Madeline to dress.  First,
of course, we all undressed.  Brian gave me a monk's robe to cover my nakedness. 
Madeline dressed as a nun, with a light, loose, floor-length black covering and
a nun's wimple which covered her hair and neck, so only her face showed.  Brian
wore a more elaborate outfit, suggesting, perhaps, a bishop.  "Just play along
with what I tell you to do.  I trust you realize this is all in fun; we don't
want anyone hurt." When we went downstairs, the others had already entered the
inner chamber.  Vixen had then all shackled to the wall; it had been converted
from a brightly lighted clinic to a gloomy torture chamber again.  The sound
track of screams was playing.  The light was only candles.  There was new
equipment, medieval looking, this time.

     Vixen was a shocker.  She wore black boots, black tights, and a shiny black
plastic bodice with bright, shiny spikes decorating rigid, conical tits.  I was
reminded of the way Rachel's mother, Priscilla, used to dress, before I "cured
her" of her sadistic behavior. "Your eminence," said Sister Madeline, "these
prisoners have all been denounced for heresy.  Some may even be witches.  We
must examine them." "Brother, Sister," said Brian, "Prepare the prisoners."
Sister Madeline and I went down the row of victims, examining the padded cuffs
Vixen had put on their wrists and ankles.  Rachel flashed me a smile as I
checked hers.  I squeezed her breast, through the cloth of her blouse.  We left
Rachel and Aubra, Julie and Iris, shackled to the wall, to watch the fate of
Vixen's victims.

     Vixen, released Stan, and led him, like a tame puppy, toward the middle of
the torture chamber.  She put a leg spreader on him and hooked his wrist cuffs
to ropes from the ceiling.  When Vixen cranked on the ropes, Stan was suspended,
two ropes holding his arms apart, with his spread legs inches off the floor.
Dave was put into rough wooden stocks, which held his ankles.  His weight was
supported by a bar under the lower crease of his buttocks, a bar supported by
two low stools.  His hands were raised above his head by one of the ceiling
ropes.  That left Art, Rose, Rachel and Aubra, still chained to the wall.

     It seemed to me that there was some tacit agreement that Vixen's victims
were hers to play with; Sister and I would not participate in their
interrogation.  Brian pointed at Art.  "Yes, Your Eminence," replied Sister, and
the two of us got Art stripped down to nothing.  Sister brought out one of the
old padded saw horses, which now had a greased rubber penis-like cylinder
sticking up out of the cross bar, like the one on the saddle of the infamous
horse.  We sat Art on it, Sister making sure the prick slid easily in his ass
hole, not tearing anything.  Art's feet were chained to two of the horse's legs. 
Sister fitted an uncomfortable leather cock restraint over Art's penis.  If he
had an erection, it would squeeze his cock rather uncomfortably.  But then, Art
was a masochist.  She put a strap around his arms and waist, holding his arms
straight down at his sides. Meanwhile, Vixen had strung up Rose, with her arms
raised and her legs spread.  Vixen placed a belt around Rose's waist.  She led a
chain from the belt, just by Rose's navel, down between her legs.  Vixen
attached the chain to one of the overhead ropes and pulled on the rope.  The
chain between Rose's legs lifted her feet off the floor, until Rose was
suspended, her body approximately horizontal, her spread legs hanging down, well
clear of the floor.  I imagined the chain must be grinding painfully against
Rose's vulva, but she didn't cry out.        Vixen then went to Stan, who hung
X-shaped in the air.  She took a piece of silk and gently drew it across his
face and body.  Stan's prick leaped to attention; he must have loved silk.  I
noticed that the screams, over the sound system, had been shut off.  The
silence, only heavy breathing, and Art's spluttering, was spooky.  The candle
light, casting deep shadows, added to the effect.  His Eminence stood by,
watching Sister torture Art. Sister was applying a water torture to Art.  Water
was leaking out of his ass; I saw that there was a hose leading to his saw
horse, pumping him full via the rubber penis in his ass.  Sister held his head
back and poured water down his throat.  From time to time he coughed and
spluttered, but he managed to avoid drowning by swallowing the water, and I
thought his stomach was actually bulging out.  "The Inquisition, you may
remember," said His Eminence, "had rules about torture.  No blood should be
spilled.  They dislocated joints, broke bones, burned and crushed the prisoners,
but The Church would not draw blood, for that would be a sin.  Purifying water
was a common way of inducing a heretic to recant."  Art looked miserable, which
is to say, he looked happy.

     I heard a crack, and looked to see Vixen lashing at Rose with a cruel
looking whip.  Pink welts appeared on Rose's buttocks, her legs, her back, and
even on her breasts, which seemed to catch the end of the whip when her back was
lashed.  His Eminence watched carefully, had a quiet discussion with Vixen, but
he did not stop the lashing.  Stan's cock was wrapped in silk, which was
actually tied with a bow.  He received several blows on his backside, and I
could see his semen suddenly soak through the silk.  Then Vixen went to work on
Dave, in the stocks.  She put her high-heeled boot in his crotch and pressed her
spiked brassiere into his flesh, in between severe lashings. Rose, was visited
by Vixen again and beaten again, rather severely, was writhing as she hung by
her hands and the chain between her legs.  I looked between her ass cheeks and
saw that she was very wet, and her wriggling was her way of frigging herself
with the chain.  Her outer lips were loose on either side of the chain.  I
guessed she must have a hooded clitoris, or the pressure of the chain would have
been excruciating. Stan got another treatment, his unbound penis standing tall
as Vixen abused him, even prodding his ass hole with the whip handle.  Dave, in
his stocks, was quiet.  I noticed semen, probably Dave's, splashed on the toe of
Vixen's boot.

     Sister motioned to me to help with Art.  We lifted him off the prick in his
ass and let him spew out the contents of his bowels, a messy business.  Sister
and I left him lying on the floor, puking clear fluid and dribbling from his
rear, while Sister hosed him off and cleaned up the area.  A drain in the floor
accepted the shitty water.  Sister sent him to the shower room.

     It seems all of Vixen's victims had come, one way or another, and we
released them, sent them to the showers.  Rose, thin, blonde, covered with red
welts, with her vulva bruised beyond belief, hobbled toward the showers,
apparently happy.  I don't get off on pain, and I can fuck Rachel any time I
want, so I guess I don't really understand why Rose and Stan and Dave get off on
being abused by Vixen.  Maybe they love her, and crave her attention.  Well, it
takes all kinds.

     Julie, Iris, Rachel, and Aubra, all of them chained to the wall of Brian's
torture chamber, had witnessed the tortures of Art, and Dave, and Stan, and
Rose.  They must have been terrified, especially seeing Rose suspended from a
chain across her cunt and whipped.  The four women stood there, their breasts
heaving, obviously excited, or afraid.  Brian, in his bishop's costume,
whispered that witnessing the torture of others would both lower their
inhibitions and make them more compliant. We unshackled Julie from the wall and
gently undressed her.  Her face was flushed, as if she had just run a mile, even
though she had been chained to the wall.  Sister Madeline hooked up the standard
leg spreader bar, so Julie had to stand with her crotch exposed, and I hooked
her wrist cuffs to one of the several ropes which hung from pulleys in the
ceiling.  It held her arms above her head, but left her weight on her feet. 
Then we did the same to Iris. Aubra was simply stripped of her clothing and
strapped to a chair. Now, only Rachel was left.  I didn't want to see her hurt,
but I trusted Brian and Madeline to accommodate Rachel's fantasies without
permanently damaging her.  I knew that, after a childhood filled with abuse by
her mother, nipple rings, studs through her labia, whippings and enemas, that
Rachel had fantasies of reverting to her childhood ways.  I loved my wife; I
couldn't cause her real pain, but here...   I pulled her skirt off.  With the
elastic waist, is slid off easily.  The blouse, too, slid down over Rachel's
breasts and hips, stretching easily.  For a few seconds, I admired her body, and
I snuck a kiss on each nipple.  I surreptitiously stroked her naked labia;
Rachel still made me shave her pubes at least once a week.

     Sister led Rachel to a strange torture device, a cage made of iron strips,
a kind of two-piece basket, roughly in the shape of a woman.  His Eminence
directed that she be placed in the "iron maiden," and Rachel stepped into the
cage.  Sister swung the halves closed and latched them together.  Rachel stood
there, very beautiful, I thought, with about an inch or so clearance between her
naked skin and the iron bands.  Sister poured water over her, until Rachel's
skin gleamed in the candle light.  His Eminence, Brian, handed me a short stick
on a wire, like a microphone.  The end had a round sponge on it, dripping wet. 
I tasted the liquid; it was salt water.  "Insert that in her vagina," he said. 
I figured salt water wouldn't hurt her, not like turpentine or something, so I
gently knelt, parted her labia with one hand, and gently pushed the sponge in as
far as it would go.  Rachel looked down at me and smiled again.

     "Heretics, you have seen the instruments of torture.  You may avoid further
pain by recanting now.  Abjure the devil and embrace Christ!"  No one spoke. 
"Let the torments begin.  They will recant." Vixen came back in, still in her
absurd dominatrix costume, and stood there, hands on hips, watching. Rachel
simply stood there, still as a statue.  She was in no pain.  Perhaps this was
Brian's way of letting her play the game without really hurting her.  Her
"torture" was being made to stand still, naked in the cage.

     His Eminence directed my attention to Julie and Iris.  "Brother, these two
are suspected of witchcraft.  Witches have sexual congress with the devil, and
he leaves his mark upon their bodies.  You must examine them, very carefully,
very thoroughly, to find the devil's mark.  Examine every crevice of their
bodies." I knew that at our previous parties, Julie and Iris had been spared
having any man touch them.  To have me do so would, indeed, be a torture for
them, but I also knew that His Eminence orchestrated these sessions to satisfy
the participant's fantasies, to arrange for them to experience things they could
never let themselves indulge in without the "excuse" of the game. I went to
Julie, first, and looked into her eyes.  I couldn't read her expression.  I
started by examining her head, very carefully, lifting her hair with my fingers
and examining her scalp, for a possible hidden mark of the devil.  Then I did
the same for Iris.  I knew the two young women shared everything: apartment,
clothes, fantasies.  From time to time, I looked up to see what was happening to
the other "heretics." Rachel still stood still, staring ahead, sometimes
watching what I was doing to Julie and iris.  For her, the discipline of
standing perfectly still might be a form of torture, but I was satisfied that
she was all right.  She could always call, "elephant," if she wanted to stop. I
continued my examination of Julie and Iris.  Julie mewled a bit as I explored
her arm pits, tickling her.  Iris, as I did the same to her, smiled at me.  I
examined their breasts very carefully.  Julie's hung down somewhat, rather a lot
for one so young.  Of course, I had to lift each breast and run my finger along
the crease underneath to make sure there was no hidden devil's mark.  Iris had
breasts like orange halves, neat hemispheres.  I gently fondled them, stroking
them, blowing on them, until her nipples became erect. It didn't take long to
examine their backs and bellies for the devil's mark, though I stroked the skin
as I carefully looked.  Then I started on the feet, spreading the toes, tickling
the soles. Rachel still stood, motionless, in her iron maiden. I worked my way
up Julie's legs.  Julie squirmed, as if to avoid my touch, as I ran my hands
over her ankles, her calves, her knees, her thighs.  She could not, of course,
move very far or avoid my attention.  I breathed heavily on her inner thighs.  I
peered into her navel.  I did not touch her sexual organs. Ever equitable, I
repeated the examination on Iris, lingering to stroke the silky skin of her
thighs, pale, never exposed to the sun.  Iris didn't squirm, she cooed.  When I
had finished with her navel, I went behind her and spread her cheeks, fondling
them, running a finger up and down the crack between them.  I lightly touched
her puckered little anus, and she twitched, but said nothing.  "If you recant
now," I said softly, "the examination need go no further."  She said nothing.  I
moved to her front.  Her legs were far apart.  I stroked the inside of her
thighs, felt her sartorius muscles, which stood out, because her legs were
spread so far apart.  Her pubic hair was light brown and not curly, just wavy. 
Carefully, I parted the hairs, examining for hidden marks, breathing hotly on
her crotch. I looked up and met her eyes.  She stared back, and there was a
flicker of a smile.  Gently, I parted her outer labia, exposing her inner labia
and the pink membranes, which gleamed with moisture.  Very gently, with my
finger tips, I parted her slick inner lips and saw, not surprised, that she had
a hymen, more or less intact.  I inferred that, when she had her period, she
used sanitary napkins, not tampons. Again our eyes met, and the corners of her
mouth went up.  I fingered her little clitoris, which seemed to swell.  I ran my
tongue over her inner lips, as I held her outer lips apart, and I licked her
clit.  Then I kissed it, and sucked gently.

     Well, I knew that Julie expected the same.  Julie's bush was dark and
curly, but sparse.  I discovered a small mole on one of her outer lips.  "Ah
ha!" I said softly, "this may be the devil's mark."  She bucked backward, until
the rope which held her hands pulled taut.  I continued my examination.  When I
parted her outer labia and examined her inner lips, I noticed that Julie had no
visible clitoris, It was hooded by the pink membranes of her lips.  It is a
common enough thing, analogous to a tight foreskin on a penis.  It still works
as a love button, but it is not as sensitive as a naked clit; it needs a bit
more stimulation.  I glanced up at Julie's face.  She was looking down at me
with intense interest, I thought.  I spread her inner lips and peered into the
depths of her vagina, using my fingers to spread the walls, as there was no
hymen sealing the entrance.  When I looked again into Julie's eyes: no smile,
but no reproof.  I licked her hooded clit lightly, just to be fair, since I'd
done it to Iris.  Then I placed a fingertip firmly on the bulge and massaged her
love button through its covering of delicate tissue. Julie sucked in her breath
and whimpered softly.  I continued, watching her cunt dampen with lubricating
juices and deepen in color.  "Uh," she said, "elephant."

     At the signal to stop, I did.  I stood up and whispered to her, "Do you
need to be untied?" "No," she replied, "just please don't do that." I turned to
His Eminence and said, "This one has a small mole, possibly the mark of the
devil.  The other one," I said, pointing to Iris, "cannot possibly be a witch,
for she is a virgin.  She might, however, be a heretic." "Quite so, Brother.  We
will attend to them later."

     I turned my attention to Rachel, meeting her eye and smiling at her.  She
seemed to gather her courage, and she moved, for the first time.  Her ass cheeks
brushed the iron cage, and she recoiled sharply.  Her breasts bounced against
the cage and she shuddered. Aubra shrieked.  I had forgotten Aubra, who had sat
quietly, strapped to her chair.  Now she was gasping, sweating, looking as if
she were on the verge of an orgasm.  I turned back toward Rachel, and saw her
convulsed in her cage, bouncing off the iron bands.  Then, suddenly, she gained
composure and stood, quietly, looking as if she had just finished a bout of
particularly violent sex.  Her skin gleamed with sweat, and her erect nipples
danced as she tried to get her breath.  Aubra, too, was quiet.

     "Your Eminence," I said, "I am concerned about these prisoners." "It's OK,
Brother," he said.  We released Rachel from the cage.  Still trailing her
"microphone cord," she went to Aubra, and the two of them whispered to each
other.  I saw then that Aubra also had a wire leading out of her cunt. Iris
called out, "Sister." Sister Madeline went to attend to her.  His Eminence
conferred with Aubra and Rachel, then with Sister Madeline. Madeline said to me,
"Brother, please, just sit down and watch, or you can go sit in the lounge, if
you would prefer."

     I sat on a saw horse and waited to see what would happen.  Julie and Iris
watched, too.  Rachel unstrapped Aubra from the chair and they both lay down on
a mat which Sister brought out.  She handed Aubra something on the end of a wire
and came to stand by me.  His Eminence watched, too. The candle light shone on
the two women, Rachel, young and trim, Aubra, older but still beautiful.  Lying
side by side, they tentatively touched each other.  A finger to the nipple here,
a stroke of the ass there.  Soon they were in each other's arms, rolling on the
mat, tangling the wires from their cunts, and obviously in the throes of
passion. "Unguh!" cried Rachel, "Oh, I can't stop coming." Aubra was equally
excited, maybe more, writhing and thrashing, kissing Rachel's breasts, rocking
her pelvis and twitching.  None of us had ever seen anything like it, passion
unlimited, the two women babbling with ecstasy.  It was Aubra who broke contact
first, fighting herself free of Rachel's embrace.  The two of them lay there,
panting, utterly spent.

     "What was going on?" I asked. "Tell you later," said Brian.  Madeline was
bringing out another mat.  "Take off your costume," she said to me, as she began
to release Iris from her bondage.  "OK, lie down on the mat." Madeline rolled a
condom down over my rampant prick.  Then she led Iris to me. "Brother," Iris
said, "I have sinned.  As penance, I desire you to chastise me with thy rod."     
"Iris, do you mean what I think you mean?"  I looked at my condom clad penis. 
"You want to give up your virginity?" "Yes," she said. "You have a hymen.  It
might hurt." "Do it, Howard," called Rachel.

     I lay on my back and drew Iris down to sit on my thighs.  I reached down
and fingered her cunt.  She was very much aroused, dripping wet.  "When you feel
you want to," I said, "you lower yourself onto this."  I rubbed my penis against
her belly.  "If it hurts, you can stop any time." She moved forward, kneeling
with her knees either side of my body.  She took hold of my rod and eased
herself down, steering it between her labia.  I put my hand over hers and showed
her how to rub the tip of my tool up and down her groove, so it stimulated her
clitoris.  She sank lower, steering the tip between her inner lips, where it met
with some resistance.  Then she dropped, impaling herself on my rod and crying
out with a little yelp of pain. Almost immediately, she began to bob up and down
on my prod, rocking her hips, moving back, forth, and sideways, as if to stretch
her tight vagina to its limits.  It felt great, and I gritted my teeth and tried
not to come, until I saw the blush on her breast, felt the spasms of her vaginal
muscles, and I knew she was coming.  I couldn't help unloading into her. "Oh,
that was good," she sighed.  "I didn't know it could be so good."  She bend
forward and rested against my chest, her tits mashed against me by her weight. 
I put my arms around her and held her.

     Madeline intervened to ease my prick from Iris's sheath, pulling on the
condom so as not to spill a drop of my semen.  "No, don't take it out," Iris
protested. "Now, Iris," said Madeline. "House rules.  Only safe sex.  You don't
want to get pregnant." "I don't?" sighed Iris.

     Rachel and Aubra had been watching.  Rachel gently lifted Iris off me and
took her aside, saying soothing things I couldn't hear.  She kissed Iris.  Aubra
released Julie, who had watched the whole thing while still "hanging" from the
ceiling.  With her cuffs removed, she approached me and said, "Brother, I have
sinned.  Will you chastise me with your rod?" "I don't know if I can." Rachel
said, "Go ahead.  I'll help."

     Julie whispered to Brian and Madeline.  They led her to one of the padded
saw horses.  She bent over it, with her ass up,  Madeline stroked between
Julie's legs, even held a vibrator there.  Rachel licked my penis clean, while
Iris watched.  At Rachel's suggestion, Iris helped, and soon my tool was ready
again.  Iris took my hand and led me to Julie.  I could see that Julie was
drenched; she looked like she had already had an orgasm.  Vibrators work great
on hooded clitorises.  Madeline applied a fresh condom.  Rachel urged me on. 
Iris helped Julie to get her cunt at just the right height, while Brian held
Julie's upper body, held her by her tits, so she wouldn't slip off.

     I slipped into Julie from behind.  Iris actually put her hands on my ass
and pushed.  With the women encouraging me, I pumped and pumped, pushing into
Julie as hard as I could. Julie went crazy, crying, "Oh, oh, I love it!  Oh, do
it.  Harder. Oh, harder."  I had more staying power than I had with Iris, and
even when Julie's cunt muscles spasmed with an orgasm, I still stayed stiff. 
"More," she cried, "I want another one." Finally, when Julie was writhing with
the ecstacy, I unloaded into her with a groan and a sigh of relief.  "No, don't
pull out," she cried, but Madeline made me, and again she pulled the condom
free, just to make sure there were no leaks. Rachel handed me a vibrator, and I
held it against Julie's hooded clit until she came again and again, finally
crying, "Elephant."

     Afterward, Brian and Madeline, Aubra, Rachel, Julie, Iris, and I sat around
upstairs.  We had showered together and dressed.  Rachel came and sat on my lap. 
She had no underwear, of course, and as she often does, she guided my hand up
her skirt, so I could hold her affectionately.  "Explain to me," I said, what
was going on between Rachel and Aubra."      "Rachel," explained Brian, "had
told me about how you disciplined her mother with an electrical dildo up her
ass, and Rachel wondered what it would feel like.  We came up with the idea of
the iron maiden, and the idea was that Rachel could control the shocks by
touching or not touching the cage.  Aubra wanted in on the game, so we wired
them in series.  Aubra was sitting on conducting cushion, wet with salt water. 
The current would go through the cushion, into Aubra's ass, through the muscles
of her vagina, into the 'microphone,' which was just like you put into Rachel. 
It would flow through the wire to Rachel, through Rachel to the cage, and back
to the power supply, a complete circuit if, and only if, Rachel was touching the
cage. When Rachel shocked herself, it also shocked Aubra.  Of course, Aubra
would never know when she was going to get zapped, which made it more exciting
for her.  The problem was, the current was so strong that it half-paralyzed
Rachel.  She couldn't control herself, couldn't break the circuit."

     "I'll say," said Rachel.  "That first jolt made my cunny clamp down like a
vise, and my ass burned where it touched the iron, and all the muscles in my
lower body contracted, I think.  When my tits touched the iron, it was worse. 
Well, better, in a sense.  It felt like everything between my crotch and my
belly button was cramping.  I suppose it was like labor pains."

     "When I saw what was happening," continued Brian, "I shut off the current,
but then Rachel and Aubra wanted to experiment.  It was easy enough to change
the connections, so the circuit was completed when Rachel and Aubra touched.  I
gave the control to Aubra, so she could adjust the current to as little or as
much as they liked."

     "It was great fun," said Aubra.  "Turned down, we'd get just a tingle,
where we touched each other and also in our cunts.  Turned up, the effect was
much stronger.  Rachel was fingering my cunt, just tingles, when I turned up the
juice, and we both had the most violent orgasms!"  We should have 'microphones'
at all our parties."

     Julie and Iris left, promising to be back next month.  As we were going out
to the car, Rachel said, "Do you think we could get 'microphones' for us, to use
at home?" "My love," I said, "I don't have a cunt to put it in." "Ass hole!" she
said.  Yes, it works in ass holes, too.

Rachel8

     Sometimes Brian invited Rachel and me to his house when there wasn't a
party scheduled.  I had always suspected that Brian might be a medical doctor,
but I've never had proof.  He slipped so easily into his role of "Dr. Brian",
with "Nurse Madeline," and he seemed to have the money and equipment that a
physician might have.  And this particular time, he had a "patient."

     "Rachel," Brian explained, "I want you to help Madeline.  I think you are
particularly well qualified, given the way you were punished as a child.  We
men," he said, nodding toward me, "will sit this one out.  The woman you are
going to see was referred to me by -- let's say a concerned party -- because she
bears a burden of guilt.  She can only be relieved of her guilt by being
punished."

     The doorbell rang, and Madeline answered it, dressed in her nurse uniform. 
She led the visitor into the room, but the visitor couldn't see us, for Madeline
had already placed a mask, like the Lone Ranger's without eye holes, as a
blindfold over the woman's face.  She seemed like a big woman, not particularly
attractive.  "Nurse Madeline" helped the woman out of her coat, and I saw that I
was wrong. She was wearing a simple dress, with buttons down the front, and it
looked as if it had been stuffed with balloons.  The bodice strained to contain
two big, round breasts; the waist was small, and then the dress bulged out again
to cover a round belly and wide hips. Madeline helped the woman
downstairs,guiding her, as she couldn't see the steps, and led her into Brian's
"torture chamber."  The rest of us followed, very quietly.  It was brightly
lighted. "You have sinned," stated Madeline. "Yes," the woman replied, very
softly. "Before God can forgive you, truly, you must show your sincere
repentance by penance, pain, the mortification of the flesh." "Yes." "Sister
Rachel will administer your penance.  Are you prepared to begin now?"  "Yes."
"Take off your clothes."  The woman began to unbutton her dress, and I saw two
white globes fighting to escape her plain, white bra.  When the dress came off,
I could see she was wearing heavy, elastic, "control" panties.  With some
hesitation, the woman, at Madeline's urging, removed her shoes, bra, panties,
and pantyhose, standing there entirely nude, except for her blindfold.  Of
course, she did not know that Brian and I were watching.  The woman had a long
braid of black hair, and a great bush of black pubic hair.  As "the patient"
stood there, Rachel fitted cuffs to her wrists and ankles.  Madeline selected
four ropes, of the dozen or so which hung from the ceiling, and snapped the ends
onto rings in the cuffs.

     When the ropes were tightened, the woman's arms were pulled apart, almost
like a crucifixion.  Then the ankle ropes were tightened, raising her legs,
straightening them, and pulling them apart in a wide vee, as if to tear the
victim up the middle, like breaking the wishbone of a turkey.  While the cuffs
were padded, the strain on the joints supporting the woman's weight in that
position must have been painful.  Her long braid hung down and wobbled as the
woman, her lips parted in a soundless cry, let her head hang back, then strained
to raise it, then let it fall again, over and over.

     "Your sin was of a sexual nature." "Yes." "Then you know what flesh is in
most need of mortification." "Yes."  The woman's great tapered thighs, pale
white, were spread far apart, but her cunt was mainly covered with heavy, curly,
pubic hair.  Her great, round buttocks bulged downward.  Her huge breasts were
partially flattened, as her shoulders were no higher than her hips.  Rachel, at
a nod from Madeline, went to stand between the woman's legs. Madeline handed
Rachel a piece of leather, rather like part of a bikini bottom, which had a ring
on one side and some sort of jelly-like adhesive on the other.  Rachel applied
it to the penitent's pubic hair. Then Rachel went to the woman's breasts.  She
started winding a wide, rubber strap around the woman's right breast, squeezing
it, forcing it upward into a kind of tower, with the central portion, topped by
an erect nipple, bulging out at the top.  In contrast, the left breast looked
like a bag of rice, until it, too, was encased in rubber.  More rubber straps
wound around the woman's waist.  It was already small, but the black rubber,
squeezing her, made it look as if she were some sort of marionette, hanging from
her strings, with a tiny waist holding the two halves together.

     Madeline seemed to think she needed more time for the glue to dry.  I've
heard of wax treatments to remove body hair, but Madeline had something much
more in mind.  "Are you truly sorry for your sins?" "Yes." "Then you look
forward to your punishment." "Yes."

     While the glue dried, Rachel tormented the woman by sticking sewing needles
into her soft skin.  She placed a dozen or so in each breast, the bare part
which bulged up above the rubber confinement.  She placed a dozen or so in each
buttock, and a few in her belly and along the inside of her thighs.  The needles
were all strung on a single thread.  There was no blood, just the prick of the
needle.  The woman did not cry out, just shook her head, almost as if in shame.

     At Madeline's direction, Rachel hooked yet another overhead rope to the
ring in the leather which covered the sinner's pubes.  The rope was tightened
until most of the woman's weight was being supported by her pubic hair.  In a
few seconds, the leather patch began to pull the pubic hair out, beginning at
the top and progressing down toward the vaginal lips.  As the woman's weight was
supported by fewer hairs, they pulled out more quickly.  "Ahhh!" she cried, as
the leather tore the hair from her cunt and dropped her, leaving her once more
supported by her spread ankles and wrists.

     A few hairs remained.  Madeline held the woman's head in her hands, as
Rachel pulled out the remaining pubic hairs, one by one, with pliers.  Now the
woman's genitals were totally exposed.  Her fleshy outer lips, between her
widespread thighs, were slightly parted, and her inner lips, pink and very wet,
were clearly visible.  At the top, her clitoris stood erect, like a pencil
eraser.  My tool was standing stiff and tall, and I would have liked to spread
those lips with it, but I could only watch.

     Together, Madeline and Rachel pulled sharply on the thread, pulling the
dozens of needles out in seconds.  "Ahh," escaped the "patient's" lips, as she
twitched.  Meanwhile, Brian had brought out a tall stool, with a jack on it, and
a board, covered with wire brushes, on top of the jack.  He and Madeline
positioned the stool under the penitent's ass and cranked up the jack until her
weight was once again supported, this time by hundreds of sharp points pressing
into her pale, soft skin.  No one point supported enough weight to penetrate the
skin, but each applied a painful local pressure, like the fakir's bed of nails. 
As the jack was cranked higher, the woman's back was bowed, so that her convex
tummy, bulging out of the rubber waist binding, and her fleshy, now hairless
mons, were uppermost, exposed to the maximum, while her arms and legs, still
stretched taut, angled away to the side. "Everything so far has simply been
preparation," said Madeline.  "Are you ready for your punishment?" "Yes."

     Rachel handed Madeline a cat 'o nine tails, not a rubber one, a real
leather one which I knew would cause real pain.  Madeline stood between the
woman's spread legs and brought the whip down with clinical precision, right
down on the exposed vaginal lips.  The woman cried out and writhed on her "bed
of nails", crying out again as, seconds later, the whip lashed the upstanding
breasts. The two "therapists" took a moment to observe the effect, livid welts
across the tender skin, and then they continued.  I couldn't count the blows,
twenty, maybe fifty, while the helpless woman blubbered and cried for mercy. 
From her shoulders to her knees, except where the rubber covered her, the woman
was a huge pink bruise, the stripes from each blow overlapping until she was an
almost uniform red.  The skin wasn't broken; no blood flowed, but nowhere had
the sinner escaped the stinging lash, which bruised her tender flesh.

     Madeline and Rachel removed the rubber bindings, revealing pale stripes
against the pink of the tortured flesh.  The breasts looked like targets, with
red bulls eyes, and there was a white "belt" at the waist.  Vaginal juices wet
the woman's crotch, and I could only suppose she got off on pain. "Was your sin
very serious?" asked Madeline. "Yes." "Then you should be punished some more, so
that you will never again allow yourself to sin." "Yes," said the tortured
woman.  I couldn't believe we wouldn't see her again, again in need of penance.        
Brian nodded at a Rachel, and she took one of our "microphones," a shiny
cylinder like a metal prick.  Rachel slipped it into the woman's gaping, wet
cunt and connected the wire to a black box.  The wire brushes were connected to
the box also, so that an electrical circuit would be completed through the
woman's buttocks and vagina, from the wire brushes to the metal prick.  Madeline
picked up the box, turned a knob, and poised her finger over a button.  "Say you
are sorry," she instructed."I'm sorry. UNGH!"  An electrical current convulsed
her gluteal muscles, so her ass contracted.  While I couldn't see, I knew her
vaginal muscles were contracted in a painful spasm, also.  "AAAHH!" the woman
screamed. Madeline released the button and passed the box to Rachel. Rachel
said, "Promise you won't do it again." "I promise I won't ... AAAhh!"  Rachel
held the button down, for several seconds, it seemed.  Rachel and Madeline took
turns, until Brian signaled them to stop.  He held a stethoscope to the woman's
chest, and checked her blood pressure.  He shook his head at his nurse.

     Madeline pulled the shiny electrode from the woman's vagina.  It gaped
open, the walls quivering from exhaustion.  You know how it is when you exercise
too hard and get a Charley horse?  Imagine what it must feel like to have a
Charley horse in your cunt, to have the muscles aching with exhaustion. The "bed
of nails" was lowered, and the leg ropes loosened, so that Rachel and Madeline
could lift the woman and put her on her feet.  She stood there uncertainly. Her
now hairless vulva gleamed redly with her juices, and her buttocks were covered
with little red spots, where the wires had burned into her skin.  Rachel put her
bra on her, tightly, so that the bruised nipples were pressed, and a white
stripe of breast bulged up out of the cups on each side, stark against the livid
bruises from the lashing.      "You have paid for your sins.  Go home, and sin
no more," intoned Madeline, "but there is one more thing, lest you take your
punishment too lightly."  Standing there, her arms outstretched, the woman was
made to step into her elastic panties.  Rachel and Madeline pulled them up, over
the tortured ass cheeks, over the beaten cunt.  "Ah-eee!" the penitent screamed. 
Inside the panties was a lining of stinging nettles, ordinary looking weeds
which are covered with zillions of tiny hairs.  When those tiny hairs touch
skin, the result is a stinging itch which no amount of scratching will
alleviate.  The woman, of course, could not scratch, and had to bear the
excruciating burning, itching, of the nettles, pressed against her most tender
skin, pressed into the gash of her sex, so that it became a place of pain, not
pleasure.  "You will not remove your panties until you get home, if you are
truly penitent," instructed Madeline.  Then she helped the woman put on her
dress and shoes and led her up the stairs, still blindfolded.

     "I didn't know you were into inflicting pain, Rachel," I said. "We were
doing her a favor, Dearest Husband." "How can she drive home, in that
condition?" I asked.

     "I arranged for transportation, in a van with the curtains drawn.  She
doesn't know where she has been," explained Brian.  "Would you care for a
drink?"

     "I'm driving.  Maybe Rachel..." "No, I'm anxious to get home and have
Howard service me.  All this has made me horny."  "Certainly, My Dear." "And
Howard, will you spank me, first?" she whispered in my ear.

Rachel9

     Then there was the time Brian's party was co-hosted by Vixen.  Rachel was
visiting her mother, and I couldn't go with her because of my work, so I went to
the party alone.  When we regulars gathered at Brian's big house on the hill, he
announced that we were going to have a toga party and that Vixen was going to
provide the entertainment.  As there would be too many of us for the special
room downstairs, we would hold it in back, next to the swimming pool.  Brian's
wife, Madeline, reminded us that usual rules applied: confidentiality, safe sex,
yell "elephant" to stop the action.

     We were quite a crowd -- Brian and Madeline, of course, Aubra, who I think
might live there, Robert and "the horsewoman", Mike and Thalia, Clarice, the
voluptuous one, Julie and Iris, the formerly virginal school teachers.  We all
undressed in the house and put on what might pass for a toga.  (I know Roman
women didn't wear togas, but we weren't aiming for authenticity)Then we went out
back.

     Brian's house is on a hill, and behind the house the hill was hollowed out
to form a sort of semi-circular amphitheater with the swimming pool where the
stage would have been.  A windbreak of trees provided a sense of privacy.  The
usual chairs and tables had been removed and replaced with mats and air
mattresses and pillows and cushions; the Romans partied reclining on couches. 
It was a warm summer evening, not yet fully dark. Once we were settled in,
reclining on our cushions, there was a fanfare on the sound system, followed by
music,"Roman Carnival," I think.  Four naked women slaves pranced into view,
drawing a light chariot (with bicycle wheels) which contained Vixen , costumed
as the goddess, Minerva, complete with spear.  She had on a brassy breastplate
and a Roman soldier's helmet.  Slung low on her hips was a diaphanous skirt
which did not conceal the dark triangle below the waistband.  Behind her, led by
chains to collars, were her "dogs," four naked men who moved on their hands and
toes, asses in the air, tails wagging, as if they were quadrupeds.  The chariot
circled the pool and stopped.  Minerva dismounted, cracking a whip like an
animal trainer.  The four women lined up in front of us, as if for inspection,
while the dogs huddled together on their knees, growling, while the whip cracked
over their heads.

     I began to suspect that Minerva must be a professional dominatrix who used
Brian's house as a place to subjugate her "clients."  Well, we weren't paying
for the show, so we might as well enjoy it.  I was surprised when Julie covered
her face and fled from the garden, disappearing into the house.  Madeline, our
hostess, went after her.

     Well, the slaves weren't entirely naked.  Each had cuffs on wrists and
ankles, the easier to apply bondage, and each wore scarves around her neck and
waist: blue, green, yellow, or red.  Vixen introduced them to us as Red, Yellow,
Green and Blue, and informed us that they would serve food and drink and perform
any service we might ask of them. The "dogs" similarly had cuffs,collars, of
course, and a tail, identifying each: white, gray, brown, and black.  The tails
were attached to butt plugs, one pressed into each anus.  The dogs also had
their genitals covered with soft rubber replicas of penises and balls, rather
larger than life.  It was quite obvious these served multiple purposes: to
prevent direct genital contact, providing for safe sex, to provide an enhanced
effect, should the rubber penis be introduced into a bodily orifice, and to keep
the dogs from experiencing sexual pleasure from such contact, at least to
prevent them from going soft at a critical moment.

     I spent some time looking at the slaves.  Blue was a trim lass, maybe
twenty, with a long face, a pony tail, nicely tapered legs, a slim waist, an ass
like a big apple, and breasts like apples, also.  I could imagine her round ass
filling the seat of  pair of slacks.  Green was Asian-American, a doll-like
creature with a totally hairless body and small breasts, bait for pedophiles. 
Yellow was tallish, with lots of dark hair, big jugs, broad hips, but not fat at
all.  Her pubic hair was trimmed in the shape of a heart.  I could imagine her
as the subject of a calendar picture, perhaps posed on a Harley.  Red was older,
and it showed.  I felt a little sorry for her, having to compete with three
stunners. Vixen ordered Blue, the perky one, to dance, and she did a jazzy
little go-go number, swinging her ass and bouncing her apples.  Green, the
girlish one, did little more than strike a number of poses.  She concluded by
pulling a string of pearls out of her cunt, which got a small round of applause. 
Yellow went wild.  I could believe she might work in a strip joint.  The effect
was meretricious; there was no innocence there.  Red did something that might
have qualified as "modern dance" in 1930.  She ran around on tip-toe, arms out,
trailing her scarves.

     The four slaves left the stage and Vixen exercised her performing dogs,
making them sit up and beg, roll over, play dead bug, fetch a rubber bone, that
sort of thing.  The slave girls returned with trays of fruit, nuts, little
sandwiches, celery sticks, carrots, condoms.  I took a little of everything. 
Blue distributed metal goblets to us "guests".  I noticed she wore a wedding
ring.  Yellow followed, a big pitcher of wine in each hand, her biceps bulging. 
I asked for fruit juice, and yellow told me to wait. Green, she of the
inconspicuous tits, had a jug of carbonated juice. As Green filled my goblet, I
asked, "What's your name?" "Green, master." "What is your occupation?" "I serve
Mistress Vixen." "What do you do when you are not serving your mistress?" "There
is nothing worth mentioning, except service to my goddess.""What can you do for
me, to pleasure me?" "Would you like me to lick your cock?" "How about I get off
by rubbing it between those beautiful tits of yours?" "You joke," she said,
smiling, and she moved along.  I felt like a jerk for saying that.

     Madeline returned and spoke to Vixen, giving four masks, without eye holes,
which Vixen put on the dogs, so they could not see.  Then Julie came back.  It
seems Julie had recognized that one of the dogs, Brown, was her school
principal; she didn't want him to recognize her. I noticed that Brown played
hard at being a dog, prowling around on hands and knees, sniffing other dogs'
tails.  At one point, he managed to lick his own rubber penis.  Another dog
whined at Vixen's feet.  She lifted the hem of her skirt and let him put his
head under it, to sniff, but not to lick.

     Vixen spoke to Brian, who got up and visited each of his guests, briefly
speaking.  When he got to me, he said, "Brian, Vixen's slaves are more than just
waitresses.  They want to be used, sexually.  Do you understand? Help out, will
you?"  I motioned to Blue, of the cute ass, and I pulled her down beside me on
the cushions. I just wanted to feel that little round ass.  I stroked it and
squeezed it and hefted her globes with my hand.  She asked if she might get more
comfortable, and of course I said yes.  She switched ends, so we might have
played 69.  I rolled her on her tummy and kissed her ass globes.  She got her
fingers inside my toga and grabbed my cock.  I moved my hand between her legs,
which she instantly spread, and I began to stroke her cunt, while I used her ass
as a pillow.      Mike, whose wife, Thalia, is really thin, asked for Yellow. 
He put Yellow on her back and climbed aboard, with a condom, of course.  I could
tell Yellow wasn't quite ready; she nearly smothered Mike with her big jugs
while she discretely fingered herself.  Mike could only be distracted so long. 
He plunged his prick into her, ready or not, and pumped furiously.  Yellow waved
her arms and cried out, but it was an act, I think. In thirty seconds it was
over, and Madeline was checking on the condom.  It had borken, too much
friction, perhaps, so Madeline came up with a douche bag and insisted on
cleaning Yellow out.  "It's a house rule, Yellow," she explained, "no
pregnancies, no infections, if we can possibly avoid it."

     Evidently Vixen knew about Julie and Brown.  She led the blindfolded dog
over to Julie.  Julie, usually shy, threw off her toga and lay on her back. 
Vixen handed Julie the leash and directed Brown's head to Julie's pubic bush. 
He started to lap at her cunt. While Julie enjoyed making her boss eat her out,
Thalia asked Vixen for White, who, blindfolded, of course, was made to mount
Thalia and fuck her, doggie style.  Unfortunately, White's rubber prick, about
ten inches long and two or three across, just wouldn't fit.  Vixen and Madeline
helped, using some olive oil, and giving White directions.  Mike, who was long
finished with Yellow, just watched, as his wife's cunt was stretched by a prick
he couldn't hope to compete with.

     Robert had a turn with Yellow, and his date felt she had to do a Thalia to
put Robert in his place.  She waited until she had Robert's attention and then
made him watch while Gray mounted her.  After her horse ride at a previous
party, a doggie dick was no problem.  In fact, she made Gray keep at it, on and
on, while Robert watched and listened to the slurping, burping sounds when the
pumping penis allowed air leaks.  Rubber pricks don't go soft, but I'll bet
Gray's knees were sore before Robert's date let him quit shagging her. Gray was
probably happy to go back to Madeline to get his strap-on sanitized and sheathed
with a new condom.

     Iris, whom I had deflowered, invited Green to come to her.  Iris covered
them both with her toga, so I don't know the details, but they frolicked for a
long time. If Green in fact penetrated Iris, it must have been a very tight fit.

     Meanwhile, Blue was mindlessly squeezing my prick as she had one orgasm
after another.  My head bobbed, since I was resting it on her ass, and her ass
would go wild when she came.  As I was reaching into her from behind, I couldn't
fill her vagina and give proper attention to her clit at the same time.  She
mainly wanted to be filled, and when she was really loose and wet, I got my
whole hand into her and fist-fucked her.  She bucked and screamed and was the
center of attention, until she was too exhausted to go on. I pulled my hand out,
rolled her on her back, kissed the apples on her chest, and left her to sleep it
off.

     Clarice wanted my attention.  She was all woman, but there was too much of
her for most men.  She unwrapped a condom and rolled it down my shaft.  She put
her toga on the grass and lay back, pleading with her eyes.  Clarice is built so
that, if I tried the missionary position, it would be hard to get more than half
in, so, as I warmed her up with a finger, I tried to arrange her so I could get
all the way in.  I lay on my side, crossing the T, and straddled one of her
cushionny thighs.  We got her other knee up, over my waist.  Then I thrust home.
"Oh, my, that's good," she said, as she urged me deeper with her foot on my
back.  It may have been a "mercy fuck," but it felt good, and having an
appreciative partner turns me on.  Result: I came too soon, and while Clarice
didn't complain when I slipped out, I was pretty sure she hadn't come.  Well,
the gentlemanly thing to do is to see one's partner satisfied.  I had her lift
both knees, and I plunged into that canyon of thighs and applied my tongue where
it would do the most good.  Clarice loved it, and boxed my ears with her pillowy
thighs as she writhed in orgasmic ecstasy.  That little job finished, I went
back to being a spectator.

     By now it was dark, but the underwater lights of the pool were on, and
someone had set up flaming torches on poles, which gave the place a hellish
appearance.  Vixen recalled her dogs to service Yellow.  (Julie didn't object to
losing Brown, as she was, like , gone, wasted, spent) Yellow, who should have
been on a calendar, stood with four "dogs" around her, panting and howling at
her, as if she were a beef steak hung just out of reach.  Red, the older slave
who didn't seem to be much in demand, helped Yellow by applying oil to her body. 
Yellow massaged her own oiled breasts, which gleamed in the torchlight.  Red
rubbed oil on Yellow's ass, and oiled her cunt, too.  One of the dogs crept up
behind Yellow and slipped his rubber penis between her lower cheeks, worming his
way into her anus.  With Red's help, they got the dog on his back, with Yellow
on her back on top of him.  We spectators could look right up between Yellow's
legs, see her distended ass hole full of bigger- than-life cock.  I wouldn't
have thought any woman could take something that size up her ass, but, you learn
something new every day. Two other dogs got down on their knees either side of
Yellow, and each dog went to work on a tit, licking, sucking, chewing, even. 
Red got down and began French kissing Yellow, while the last dog covered her
belly and steered his huge rubber dong into Yellow's cunt, more or less
missionary style.  With about ten inches of penis, and competing with the prick
in her ass, the fucker couldn't put it all into her, which meant he was high
enough off her cunt that we could all watch the action as the thing slid in and
out.  Her stretched inner labia would cling to the wet penis as he withdrew,
then disappear as he plunged into her. Yellow held up pretty well, wriggling
with apparent pleasure as she was fucked fore and aft simultaneously, but there
came a point where she was just plain worn out.  Red got up.  The titsuckers
quit.  The dog on top pulled out, leaving a flaccid, gaping cunt without enough
muscle tone to close its mouth. Last, Yellow rolled on her side, and the
underdog pulled out of her ass.

     It seems Yellow's poop chute hadn't been properly emptied, and the
underdog's tool was smeared with shit.  Julie spoke to Vixen, and Vixen made
Brown lick the prick clean.  I think Julie got off just watching that.

     Iris touched my shoulder.  I looked up and saw she had Green with her. 
"Howard," said Iris, "Green hasn't been fucked yet.  Would you be a good boy and
service her?"  Iris held out a condom. Green went down on my prick and had it
standing tall in seconds.  I lifted her head up and kissed her lips, then looked
into those black, almond-shaped eyes.  She pursed her lips for a kiss.  Since I
had made fun of her little tits, I felt I should give them extra attention.  As
they say, anything more than a mouthful is a waste.  However, after a few
minutes, Iris touched me again and said, "Howard, it isn't her tits that need
attention.  She needs fucking." Iris helped me lay Green on her back on a
mattress, and Iris applied the condom.  Without further delay I steered the end
of my prick between the neat little lips of Green's lower mouth.  She was ready
enough, wet enough, but she was tight.  Slipping into her felt great, better
than butt-fucking because I could feel the pressure all the way down the shaft
of my penis, not just at the entrance, as it would have been if I had fucked her
ass.  "How's it going, Green?" I said. "Do I please you, master?" she replied.
"Don't worry; she loves it," said Iris, who was holding Green's hand. "Now, fuck
her hard." I did, pumping away on the delicate woman's body, stretching her love
tunnel and loving every second. She was tight, tighter than my wife, and it felt
great.  Green's nipples burst out, and she gleamed with sweat as she came,
squeezing my tool so deliciously that I couldn't help coming.  It felt like
every nerve in my penis was full on, until I deposited my load and withdrew. 
Iris whipped off the soggy condom and licked me clean, which was a very nice
desert.  Green curled up in a fetal position and rested.

     I propped up some pillows so I could sit with my back against them and
watch the show.  Iris came over and sat on my lap.  She put her arms around me
and rested her head on my shoulder.  I slipped my hand between her legs and put
my thumb inside her.  She seemed to like that.

     Yellow was fucked to exhaustion, and Green had curled up and was resting,
but Vixen had picked on Blue, the perky one with a pony tail, to be the next
entertainment.  They had her on her back, where the torches provided good light,
and Red held Blue's hands above her head, while a dog held Blue's legs straight
and apart.  Her scarves had been removed.  Vixen poured maple flavored syrup all
over Blue, from her chin to her ankles, and set the remaining three dogs on her. 
On all fours, the dogs lapped up the syrup, which tickled Blue into
uncontrollable wriggles, squirming as much as she could, stretched out as she
was.  When they had licked her clean, Vixen poured more syrup, making blue's
apple-like breasts look like candied apples and soaking her pubic hair.  Again,
the dogs licked her clean, and she was by this time mewling and sobbing and
pleading for them to stop. One of the dogs took Red's place, holding the hands,
while Red did a solo number on Blue's resyrupped cunt.  Blue rocked her hips and
seemed to be coming, time after time.  That pretty much did in Blue, and they
left her there to rest.

     Robert, I think, was fucking Madeline in the shadows.  Brian and Aubra were
nowhere to be seen.  Vixen washed off the dogs' rubber pricks in preparation for
the next act.

     Red was the only one of the slave girls still able to stand, and Vixen
subjected her to the same sandwich treatment Yellow had received.  One dog had
his huge dong up her ass, and another was in her cunt, and the other two worked
on Red's top half.  She seemed to go into sensory overload, lost her mind, and
was fucked senseless. When the dogs were done with her, Vixen rolled her over
and stuffed a huge butt plug into Red's tortured ass hole.  She had the dogs
hold Red upright, while Vixen fitted tight, black rubber panties on Red, who was
beyond resisting.  A rubber penis was molded into the crotch of the panties. 
Vixen turned the hollow penis inside out, forcing it into Red's gaping cunt. 
They pulled Red's wrists behind her back and chained the cuffs together.  Vixen
came up with a rubber bra and put it on red.  The nipple area had been cut out,
so half of Red's breasts squeezed out when Vixen tightened the rubber,
compressing Red's tits.  Vixen used spring clamps to hang tassels on Red's
nipples.  Then they sat Red astride the diving board, for all to see,
illuminated by the lights in the pool.  By now, Red was recovering; she could
sit upright.  Her knees were held apart by the diving board.  Vixen shoved a
vibrator into the hollow penis of the rubber pants and turned it on. I don't
know if that was cruelty or not,but Red sat there moaning and crying out
incomprehensible syllables, as if she couldn't stand the sexual overload. 
Somehow, of course, she did stand it, and I suppose she enjoyed it.  A woman
like Red, older and less attractive than the other slaves, probably has long
periods of sexual neglect.  Vixen was giving her a month's worth of fucking in
one night.

     I had figured the women were pretty much used up, but Clarice presented
herself to Vixen.  There was no way, given Clarice's build, that it was
practical to sandwich her, but Vixen put a vibrator in Clarice's back channel
and had one of the dogs fuck her in the front, while the other dogs lapped syrup
off Clarice's huge breasts.  Her nipples, as I might have mentioned, were like
thumbs, and the dogs took them into their mouths and acted like they were
sucking penises.  I'll bet Clarice had never had a session like that in her
life, and she seemed to love it.

     Red fell off the diving board into the deep end of the pool and had to be
rescued, which meant that Clarice was relieved of the dogs' attention.  Iris, on
my lap, had one last orgasm from my finger fucking, and climbed off me, giving
me a good-bye kiss before heading for the house.

     Vixen clapped her hands to have her slaves fall in at attention in a line. 
Then she rewarded each of her faithful dogs by letting him lap at her cunt a few
times.  The party was over, and Vixen directed her slaves and dogs as they
loaded the chariot into Vixen's big van and they dressed to go.

     When I went into the house, Julie, who lives with Iris, stopped me before I
got dressed.  She fondled my prick and demanded equal treatment.  I grabbed a
condom from a candy dish (they are all over the house) and sat her on my lap. 
When she had got me stiff again, I invited her to sit closer and ride my prick,
which she did, enthusiastically.  I had only planned on a quickie, but my prod
stayed up quite a while, and Julie had a ball with it, bouncing up and own and
giggling.  By the time I finally ejaculated, Brian and Madeline were dressed,
well, covered, with dressing gowns, and all the other guests had left, except
for Iris, who had waited for Julie and egged her on with comments like, "Come
on, it's late. Squeeze his prick and get him off."

     Everything considered, it was a memorable toga party.

Review This Story || Email Author: Bluebuck

MORE BDSM STORIES @ SEX STORIES POST