I found myself in a larger home, still in the center of Paris. We had parked in a garage attached to the back of the house and gone inside. A woman received us. She took our coats off. She gazed briefly at our nudity, then spoke to a servant. ìThey will require baths,î she said. The woman was about 40, the servant perhaps a little younger. We were led away by the servant; Rebecca drunk, myself confused. The man remained behind with the woman whoíd greeted us. In the car he had not molested me, as I thought he would. Instead he had simply let me sit beside him, his arm gallantly around my waist. He treated Rebecca the same way, not touching her, save to hold her with his arm. Sheíd talked of silly things. Heíd listened, mostly. Sheíd told him of a ring sheíd bought downtown, as if we were going, perhaps, to lunch together. I was taken into a bathroom by the servant and deposited with yet another servant. The house was lavish in the extreme. The bathroom left me in awe. A big marble tub already brimmed with bubbles, the water still rising in it. Hot steam wafted up. ìShe is to be?î one servant, a middle-aged woman, said to the other. ìYes. The bottom,î the servant replied. Then they left, Rebecca taken away from me, with only the newest servant remaining behind. ìWhat is to happen?î I asked the servant, one female to another. It had taken me awhile to muster the courage to ask such a question, I thought. I should have asked the man, in the car. But he made me afraid. ìI do not speak the English,î the woman replied. She helped me into the tub, efficiently, even as she spoke to me. ìYour jewels,î she said. ìOff.î Standing in the tub, I let her strip me of them. She laid them carefully on a cloth on the bathroom counter. I was pushed to a sitting position in the tub when she had set aside my jewels. She washed me. She used a washcloth. When she had done all of me, including even my hair, she pulled me from the tub. I felt like a small child, handled by its mother. She dried me. She sat my bottom on the furred seat of a toilet. She told me, ìStay,î and went and got a makeup kit out of the bathroom cabinet. Then she did my face, very carefully. She also brushed my pubis and inspected it. I felt awkward, knew not what to do, sat with my legs splayed as she did it. Then she touched a rougue pencil to my nipples and colored them, making them redder. ìNow you ready,î the woman said in broken English. ìFor what?î I asked. ìI no speak the English,î the woman replied. I thought she might kiss my cheek. Perhaps she considered it. But in the event, she did not. Instead she took my hand, made me stand, and escorted me out of the bathroom. The man was waiting for me on the other side of the bathroom door. When I had met him at the party, not noticing him too much until he grabbed my hand and pulled me from the bathroom, he had been dressed in spaghetti-stained Speedos. Now, however, he had showered, and dressed himself to the nines in a jacket, tie, and pants. I was presented to him by the servant, who quickly absented herself from the room. I was nude, thin, shivering with fear. My nipples on my upraised breasts were rouged. I offered them to him, unwittingly, strangely wishing to keep my posture straight even as his eyes devoured me. My uptilted tits felt as if someone had put a match to their tips, setting them on fire. I felt my hands caress my thighs, my hips, and finally settle awkwardly between my legs, covering my pubis. He grabbed me. His hand seized the back of my newly-brushed mane of hair and yanked my head back. He made me offer him my lips. I gasped. He took my opened mouth as an invitation to insert his tongue. He stabbed hard between my teeth. He forced my jaws apart farther, he filled me up with the meaty flesh of his tongue, making me yelp at his intrusiveness. When he let me gulp down air I did so tremblingly, his hand still on my hair, but letting me have free movement of my head again. My nipples, scraping against his overarching body, pressed hard to his suit and then released from its enveloping touch, felt even more inflamed. ìI shall train you in the arts of love, as they relate to the whip,î the man said to me in a gruff, no-nonsense voice. ìThen my son shall fuck your bottom.î ìI do not wish--î I said in a high-pitched voice. He drew a black cloth from his breast pocket. It had been fetchingly arranged there, neatly folded into a ruffled V. I had thought it a handkerchief. It proved longer, and thinner than a handkerchief when he gave it a flick and unfurled it. It was a gag. He pressed it quickly between my lips and then, turning my nude figure as a potter turns a soft, new urn upon his wheel, he turned me so my back was to him and tied the gag in the nesting of my hair. He lifted my long ropy mane of hair with his hand first, carefully, but resolutely, as if I were a young pony being bitted. Then he paused. With myself biting fruitlessly into my gag, trying to get it off me, my hands skittering nervously across my hips, wondering if I dared to tear the gag from my mouth with my fingers, he breathed, ìGod, you have a perfect figure. A wonderful bottom!î Then he turned me to face him. He kissed me again, passionately, right over the gag that split my lips and kept my tongue pressed back into my mouth and my jaws apart. It was a long, loving kiss, despite the gag, and the fact that it kept him from pushing his tongue deeply into my mouth again, as he had before. It was he who seemed to need the air more when at last our faces slipped apart. ìForgive me,î he gasped, drawing in a breath. ìI should not succumb to your beauty. In Saudi Arabia it was forbidden. A whipmaster should never enjoy the charms of a prisoner.î A servant, a male, opened the door to the bedroom. ìMaster, there--î he paused. ìOh, forgive me,î he said. He wore an embroidered white shirt and black pants. There was a thin black tie securely fastened around his neck. His sleeves were rolled up. ìYes, Benson?î the man holding me said to the servant. ìThere is a call requesting your services in Havenhurst,î the servant said, bowing slightly, then presenting in his hand a portable phone. ìA manís wife returned home late and her husband wishes to have her corrected.î ìHave them make an appointment,î the man holding me answered. ìTell them the wait will do them good. I cannot come this evening.î ìYes, master,î the servant replied. Quietly he shut the bedroom door, disappearing as quickly as heíd appeared. The man holding me shook his head. ìSo busy these days,î he said. He looked in my eyes. ìI must do you, then your sister,î he said. ìCome, let us have you in the bed.î I resisted, but he seemed to take it as an enticement, seeing me wriggle, batting my hands away from my gag when I tried to lift my fingers to it. He pushed me across the room, keeping one hand gripped around one of my wrists so he could control me. I was made to mount up on a large bed. It stood high off the floor, with stairs for a girl like myself to get up on it. I climbed them. He held my wrist. He cupped my bottom and guided me up with his hand hot-pressed to my cheeks. They wobbled upon his palm. When I was standing on the bed he put his foot up on it and stepped up behind me. I tried to lie down. ìNo,î he said. ìYou will not be sleeping in the bed. You will remain standing,î he said. He pushed me forward, himself behind me, both of us standing on the bed now. He walked me up to the pillows. My feet sank in the bed, I walked unsteadily. When he had me standing between two pillows, he pressed me up against the wall. The bedís wooden headboard bumped against my knees. I gasped. With my tummy hard against the wall, I lifted my chin and looked up. My nipples, stiff, poked into the wallís fabric. It was a satiny fabric, but dull in appearance. My breasts, crushed to the wall, ballooned between myself and its hardness. Above I saw twin iron rings. The man lifted my right wrist and fastened it into the ring set in the wall. I should have used my other hand to tear at the gag in my mouth, but instead I let it hang aimlessly by my side, waiting. When he had fastened up my right wrist, he took hold of my left and lifted it and imprisoned it like my right. I was left standing with my wrists upraised, my arms apart. My hands, widely separated from each other, grasped with their fingers at the flatness of the wall, uselessly. The man stepped away from me. The bedroom door opened. I twisted my head back, fearfully, and saw a young man in the door. He looked about 15. He had a face in need of a shave, as boys do when they are old enough to shave but havenít started yet. ìIs she ready, father?î the boy asked. ìNot yet, son,î the man replied. ìCome when I call you. Not before,î he said. ìYes, father,î the boy answered. ìShe is a fine one.î ìDo not play with yourself waiting, and shoot before I call,î the man answered. ìYes, father,î the boy said. The door shut. Tremblingly, I was left with the man again, alone. ìI am too big for your virgin ass, otherwise Iíd perform the necessary insertion with my own prong,î the man told me. His voice was clinical, like that of a doctor. ìIn Saudi Arabia I worked with boys, opening up young bridesí bottoms for their new husbands. And, occasionally,î he added, ìthe bottoms of young boys who had male lovers who didnít mind flaunting the Koran.î His words made me quiver all over. I felt my knees tremble. He took advantage of my nervousness to open my legs. He pushed the pillows aside and spread my knees so that they were a good two feet, or more, apart from each other. Then he drew iron rings out from under the bedís headboard. First one, locking it around my right ankle, then a second, putting it around my left. Each one was lined with fur. It was attached by a very short chain to the wall beyond the bedís wooden headboard. Thus fixed, I stood with my arms and legs in a wide vee. ìPush out your bottom,î the man told me. ìOffer it.î He walked to the edge of the bed and leaned out and opened an armorie that stood close beside us. I swivelled my head back behind me fearfully, yet obeyed his command to better present my bottom. I saw the armorie was mirrored inside. Amidst the sparkling mirrors, the contents magnified and reflected out to my eyes, was a motly assortment of flagellatory items. My bottomcheeks cringed. I emitted a plaintive sob. I felt my breath, drawn in through my nose, catch in my chest. My tummy released butterflies and they flew up to my ears, making me so nervous I could barely think. ìBottom out!î the man snapped. He had taken a long bamboo cane from the armorie. He swished it in the air. ìYour ass will taste each of these, so you can get a feel for each one,î the man said. He gestured expansively at the armorieís contents. ìThis,î he said, ìis a cane, that I am holding now. It was cut and polished in the Philippines. I wonder if they thought of the spoilt young girlís bottom that would taste it, as they worked their fingers upon its length, making it perfect? You will not have to handle it, my dear. Only your ass will ever touch it.î I closed my eyes. I felt my knees sag. I let out a pitiful wail. ìWhat? Crying before it even touches you?î the man asked. ìI expect more bravery than that, even in a girl of 13,î he said. ìImagine your sister, waiting downstairs for her turn. You at least do not have to wait for it, as she does.î I heard a slicing in the air behind me. Suddenly, the cane connected with my bottom. I lurched forward. My cheeks were forced to splurge under its contact, briefly, before it darted away, leaving a white line of heat across my bottomhalves. I felt my tummy pressed hard against the wall. I worked my bare ass where, moments before, the cane had been pressing into my flesh. ìEEEIEIEIeeek!î I wailed into my gag. The man behind me laughed. My bottom burned, harshly. ìYes, that is what the cane feels like,î the man said. He gave me another stroke. It was sharp, quick, leaving a bright line of pain across my pale skin, just like the first. I ground my hips into the wall and felt screams tear themselves from my throat. My nipples dug harshly into the satiny wallpaper. ìWhat a display you make of your fine young ass,î the man said. ìI should have my son come in and watch this.î But instead he tossed the cane to the bed and reached in the armorie again, taking out a small whip. ìThis is a pony whip,î he said. ìSlender, unbraided, with no knot at the end. It is for tender young horses, so as not to mar their backsides before a buyer has been found.î He swung it. It sliced into the flesh of my bottom. I screeched at the ceiling. ìMy, you are as jumpy as the young horses the whip was made for,î the man laughed. He gazed at my nude bottom as I rolled it about, rudely, and shoved it wantonly into the air behind me. ìOne more,î the man said. He used my unwittingly proferred bottom as an invitation to give me a second stroke. I shouted. I made a new display of my fanny, arching my back, pushing my hinds out in an effort to cool them. ìWe shall go through each one of these implements, letting you get a taste of each,î the man said calmly. By the time his son entered, I was a quivering, broken figure, hung from the wall like a three-dimensional painting, with only the soft sobs in my throat and the febrile jerkings of my hips to indicate I was alive. My bottom was red-ribboned, marked like a roadmap. Yet all the lines were delicate, placed as if with care, and no blood had been drawn. It was as if my pale bottom, white as china, had been carefully marked by an able craftsman. His son was ruder, less, calm. He prised apart my stinging bottomcheeks and shoved in his staff. It was well-oiled by the servants. He put it all the way up my virgin ass. Then he pleased himself for several minutes, rodding himself in me. At last he spilled his seed. He wanted to have another go, after a momentís rest, but his father told him he had to still do my ësisterí downstairs. With reluctance he pecked my cheek with his unshaven face and was gone. ìYes, that was my son,î the man said, gazing at my bottom where his sonís seed was oozing out of my ass. ìLike I said, I would do you myself, but you are too new for me. I would split you in two, I fear.î He put up all the implements, back in the armorie, as I hung crying upon the wall. ìThe servants will come and take you down now,î the man said. ìThey will bathe you. Then, if I am still busy with your sister, perhaps you will have a short nap. Then a car will take you home. You have done well. Be proud of your first experience. The marks of it will fade in a few days, at most.î He did not kiss me, or touch me. He finished putting his things away in the armorie. Then, still dressed to the nines, but with a slight awkwardness in his walk, and a visible bulge in the front of his pants, he left. He shut the door quietly, as if not to disturb my sobs. A few minutes later two servants came in. They were both female, not males, apparently to preserve some shred of my dignity. They released me from the wall. They took me into the bathroom and gave me a bath. The touch of their hands upon my bottom made me jerk and cry out. ìShe is sensitive there,î one woman said to the other. ìYes,î the first agreed, then gave a smirk. ìOh, darling, itís nothing, really,î Rebecca said to me, when we were safely back at her home. We stood alone in her bedroom. It was early morning. The light from the rising sun shone in the windows of her bedroom that faced toward the east. ìYou should be proud of your little marks,î she said. ìBut--î I squealed. Rebeccaís hand touched my hiney. I flinched. Rebecca put me in front of a full-length mirror. She inspected my bottom for me. I complained to her, bitterly, for getting me into such a condition. She smiled and patted my ass, making me wince. ìIt is not as if I didnít have the same,î she said. We stood red-bottomed beside each other. She made me trace the lines the whip had left across her seat with my finger. I felt pity for her, even though it was she whoíd been the cause of my grief. I kissed her seat. ìOh!î Rebecca said, jumping slightly. She laughed. ìHow tender and sweet you are,î she said. ìYou will do well in Paris.î Rebecca soon received an invitation to another party. It came in the mail. This invitation, despite my brief stay in Paris, included me in it as well. I was flattered, yet embarrassed too, for we had not been seen in sequined gowns at the previous party. ìDonít fret,î Rebecca told me. ìOnly the best-looking girls get invited.î We arrived bejeweled, as before, after many hours of having our hair done, and our nails and faces, looking our absolute best. Our coats were quickly taken by the woman who greeted us. Underneath we wore fashionable bikinis. In addition we wore gloves, short ones this time, stretching only as far as our wrists. I had a pearl bracelets around each of my wrists, over my gloves. I wore spiked heels on my feet. I heard noise coming from a room adjacent to the entryway where we were greeted. I stepped towards it, a little unsteady in my heels. They were new, I was nervous. ìThis way,î the woman whoíd greeted us said. She took my arm, then led myself and Rebecca away from the boisterous room, and into a kitchen. Servants met us in the kitchen. It was large, spacious. Metal pots hung over a wooden table in the center of it. ìPlease take off your bikinis,î the woman said to us. Then she left, for the doorbell had rung. More guests were coming. I looked at Rebecca quiziccally. But she only smiled at me, shyly, and reached for the clasp of her bra, behind herself, saying to me, ìIt is best to do as she says.î We undressed. The servants watched us. I blushed, undoing my bra. When it was off me and my bosoms hung nakedly before my eyes, I asked a servant woman where I might hang it. ìI will take it,î she said, brusquely. She placed it on a silver serving tray. Then, as I watched, my mouth gasping in surprise, she laid it with the cups showing their insides. She filled each bra cup with pudding. She put a cherry on top of each quivering mound of pudding. Then she arranged fruit; slices of orange and pears, and full, uncut bananas around my bra. ìPlease remove your panties,î the woman said to me when sheíd finished decorating the tray. I looked at Rebecca. My aunt was blushing. Her own bra had been laid on a tray and its cups filled with pudding and cherries. Now she tugged at the ties of her panties and undid those. Mine had no ties and I had to pull them down my legs and step out of them. When I did, lifting them from my feet with my hands, the servant woman snatched them away from me. I watched with shocked eyes as she opened my panties, making the crotch and the inside show, and laid them on yet another silver tray. Then she dropped bits of pineapple into my panties. After this she put scoops of ice cream around my panties and decorated the ice cream with nuts. Meanwhile, still wearing my heels, still mittened with my jewelled gloves, I was held by the servants and whipped cream sprayed onto my bush. I shouted. They bade me be silent. Rebecca giggled. The same was done to her. Whipped cream was squirted around my bush and, my legs being parted by rough hands, up between my thighs. Then it was sprayed up along the line between my bottomcheeks. Finally it was sprayed in a single thin trail around my hips, forming in appearance bikinied panties made of whipped cream. Then they put the can of whipped cream to my nipples and sprayed each of those. When theyíd been coated they sprayed in larger circles until theyíd covered a good portion of each of my bosoms. My nipples stood up perkily, breaking through the cream, and they re-sprayed them. Carefully they then continued their work, creating as they sprayed a small bra of whipped cream for my breasts. It had all the appearance of a real halter, save that, unlike a real bra, which had to be undone, this one could simply be licked away. I gazed at Rebecca. She was clad as myself, wearing real gloves and heels but a bikini made of whipped cream. Our hostess was called. She re-entered the kitchen. She gazed at us. She smiled. Then she looked at the silver serving trays where our bikinis had been made into dessert. ìYes, youíll both do very nicely,î our hostess said. ìCome this way, please. Itís time for you to join the guests in the dining room.î Rebecca and I were led into an elegant dining room. There were perhaps 20 people, all formally dressed. Some were old. Others were young. A chandelier sparkled above the table. I saw they were just finishing dinner. ìTwo young ladies will be joining us for dessert,î our hostess, whom I later learned was named Rose, announced to the room. Rebecca and I blushed as she led us in. She walked with each of us holding one of her hands. We walked daintily so as not to smear the cream sprayed between our legs, our thighs deliberately apart. A gasp went up. I felt my blushing face turn redder still. Gentlemen arose from their places. I was offered a seat between a man and a woman at one end of the table. Rebecca was put in a chair at the tableís other end. It was a long, single table, accomodating all the diners. I sat down carefully in the seat of a satin-covered chair. I felt the whipped cream on my bottom spread on the chairís cushion under me. I kept my legs apart so as not to make a mess of myself. ìPlease, have some dessert,î Rose told me. A servant, coming in behind us, presented me with the silver tray that held my bra. Blushingly I scooped pudding out of my bra. I put it on the china plate in front of me. Meanwhile, another servant was offering around the tray that held my panties. Men and women scooped pineapple out of them and put it on their plates. We began eating. ìYou have lovely breasts. May I sample them?î the woman beside me asked, when sheíd finished what was on her plate. I nodded. She was in her 20ís, I guessed. She wore a low-cut gown. It showed the tops of her bosoms. She leaned over and licked at my nearest tit. Her tongue laved off some of the whipped cream. She exposed one of my nipples with her tongue. My red teat stuck out, licked clean and looking like a bright red cherry stem. I gasped. I cast my eyes toward Rebecca and saw a woman was doing the same to her. ìOh!î My aunt shouted. ìPlease donít bite them,î I heard her murmur. I looked up, quickly, and saw a sly gleam come to the eyes of the woman feeding at my auntís tits. ìI didnít know you were so sensitive,î the woman smirked. But the way she smiled, I could tell, she knew better than to bite as hard as she had. But sheíd done it anyway. ìStand up, girl!î a manís voice said. I realized he was speaking to me. Offering me a seat between himself and his wife, he had been so gallant. He had even averted his eyes from my whip creamed bosoms and bush, so as not to make me blush too badly, gazing instead into my eyes. Now he was gruff, insistent. ìStand up!î he said again. I rose from my chair. The manís wife clutched at my tits, not releasing them even to allow me to stand, though her husband, finding me slow, yanked me up by my arm. ìTurn. Let me see your bottom. Have you got whipped cream in your butthole?î the man asked me. I heard him tut with disapproval. ìItís all up inside your bottom crack, and youíve left some on the seat where you were sitting,î the man said. ìThese seat coverings are expensive.î ìIím-- Iím expensive to-ooo!î I replied, feeling him grope at the cheeks of my ass. He pried them open. He gazed at the cream that had insinuated itself into my furrow from the movements of my body. ìI shall have to lick it out,î the man said. ìI shall not charge you for the procedure if you donít charge me for the pleasure I take from your cunt afterward. Fair enough?î ìOook!î was my only reply. I had meant I was expensive because I was only 13, and he might get in trouble for fondling me. He took my meaning as being that of a statement by a whore. I blushed deeply as I felt his tongue dig within my ass. ìNot-- not so deep! Youíre going where there isnít any cream!î I shouted. ìMy, how they complain. For tarts, they are most petulant,î a woman remarked. Our hostess laughed. ìNo, no! They arenít paid hookers,î she said. ìThey are sisters.î My aunt looked up from her breasts, where a man and his wife were feeding like newborn children. She lifted a hand and brushed back her hair from her eyes. ìOooch!î my aunt said, and winced. The man, apparenlty, had done something indiscreet with his finger in her cunt. She recovered herself and, looking at the hostess, said: ìNot sisters. Iím her aunt. Oh, please!î she cried. She looked down at one of her tits. ìItís just a hickey,î the woman at her breast replied. ìDonít bite them!î my aunt said of her breasts. There was pleading in her voice. ìYou are too rough.î ìIs that an invitation, dear?î the woman asked. The hostess clapped her hands together. ìHere! Here!î she announced. ìI should have sorted things out better. Please help Rebecca up on the table. And her neice.î She looked over at me. She did not know my name. ìHave her up on the table too. They shall do each other, if they find our attentions disagreeable.î ìPerhaps we should just go--î Rebecca said. ìHome? It is too late for that, my dear, and I shall not have you go home unpleasured.î ìOh, but I do not wish to lick my own neice!î Rebecca cried. At that moment, however, she was being helped to knee her way up onto the table. Space was made for both of us by people, none of whom we knew, clearing away their plates and the serving trays. The twin candles on the table were moved farther apart. ìI canít lick my aunt!î I protested. I was lifted up by the man who had been working his tongue too deep in my fanny. My feet, clad in high heels, kicked. My hands, gloved and bejeweled, balled into small fists. I gaped at my aunt. Her own eyes, wide with alarm, stared back at me. ìBy coming to my party you agreed to have an orgasm before you could leave,î our hostess said. ìWittingly or unwittingly, you agreed to this. What did you think the words ëBody Buffetí meant, dears, in the invitation?î our hostess asked. ìI didnít never see the invitation,î I said. ìOh, my!î my aunt said. A single sob escaped her throat. We knelt on the table, facing each other. Then, slowly, she lay down. The two candles on the table cast glimmering shadows over her body. ìPut your mouth-- put your mouth in my pussy,î my aunt said to me. ìDo it! We shall cum, so we can go.î ìI donít wanna,î I said, frankly. My auntís arms reached for my hips. ìSlide your own pussy up to me and kneel over my face,î Rebecca said. She ringed my bare waist with her bare arms, her short gloves caressing my skin. I felt the jewels on her wrists rubbing me. They felt knobby and sharp, in contrast to the soft felt-like feel of her gloves. ìJust do it,î my aunt said. I let her draw me toward her. I mounted her like a man would, sitting myself over her so that my flat, inward-sloping pubis made contact with her mouth. She delved her tongue into my slit. It licked at the whipped cream wedged up in my slot. She got whipped cream from my bush on her chin and her nose. Her lips became whitened with it. ìOoooh! Stop! Youíre licking me in my pussy!î I declared to my aunt. That she would do anything less, with me sitting on her face, was, I admit, ridiculous, but in my girlish mind just because I was sitting on her nose didnít mean she had to stick her tongue up me. ìDo the same,î our hostess intoned. ìDo the same. Lean forward and put your face down in your auntís nest. Make her cum on your tongue. Lick away all the cream from her pussy and leave her bare and clean. Do it!î our hostess shouted. There was a deep hush in the room. I blinked at all the strangers around me. The men and women stared back. Their eyes seemed cold and hard and I didnít like them. I found myself staring at the eyes of the hardest-faced man in the crowd, and for some reason, I kept my eyes on him. At first I was too scared to look away. Then, slowly, as our eyes drilled into each other, it became an act of defiance. I wouldnít look away until he did. And he didnít. He had a short, brown mustache and he stared at me, hard and long, and I gaped back at him, feeling my auntís tongue slowly working up inside my pussy. I emitted a soft, moany gasp. Then another. But all the while I kept my eyes on the man. I refused to put my face down into my auntís snatch. The man leaned forward. I saw his big arm come toward me. It was muscular. Attached to it was a large hand with big fingers. He took hold of the back of my head, like a parent might take hold of the head of its child. His fingers gripped within my long hair. Quickly and firmly he pressed my head down. He kept pushing it down until my lips touched against my auntís pubis. I got whipped cream on my nose. ìLick,î the man commanded. ìNoook!î I burbled, but my tongue extruded from between my lips and I sampled my auntís snatch. ìThatís a good girl,î the man said. ìEat. Eat your dinner.î ìBut I doonít want my auntieís pussy for dinner!î I cried. My tongue got more whipped cream on it as I tried to speak. He pushed my face harder against her pussy. ìLick!î the man shouted. I licked. Like a doggie I licked, scared and afraid and with the manís big hand pressing my face down into my aunt, between her spread legs. At the same time my aunt nuzzled deeply within my own slit. We probed each otherís sexual organs. We feasted within the openings to each othersí wombs. We cried out as our mutual ministrations drove us toward the edge of orgasmic bliss. In front of strangers. With hard, steely, uncaring eyes watching us. The thought of all those unknown eyes looking at me made me become aroused. I shivered on my auntís tongue. I felt her thighs widen beneath me and she let out a soft, gentle cry. ìNOOOO!î I gasped, realizing what was happening. I didnít want to cum in front of all these wicked people, with the manís hand still firmly pushing upon the back of my head, making me eat out my aunt. ìNo!î my aunt said. It was a whimpering plea. It sounded as if she wished, with her mind, that we might stop. But her legs opened more for me, and I stabbed my tongue deeper. We drove each other over cliffs of desire and into valleys of bliss beyond. When it was over, we both sat up. We blinked at our fellow guests. They smiled approvingly. Iíd heard zippers unzipping as we attained our desire and now, gazing at us, many of the men seemed to be doing something private with their hands under the table. The women, too, seemed occupied, as if their fingers had found places up inside themselves where they too could achieve the same pleasures my aunt and I had just treated each other to. ìWell done, girls,î our hostess said. I looked over at my aunt. She put her gloved hand to her bare tummy and rubbed it. ìIím full of whipped cream,î she confessed to me with a smile. ìI am too,î I said. I burped. A whip-cream flavored bubble appeared on my lips and then vanished. My aunt leaned over and kissed me. ìIím sorry,î she whispered in my ear. ìItís okay,î I said. And, truly, now that it was over, and I was feeling all warm and blissful, I rather liked what Iíd been forced to do, though I felt like a slut, thinking that. I blushed and saw my aunt was blushing too. Hands came to my hips. I turned, quickly, and looked behind myself. It was the man with the mustache, whoíd forced me to eat my aunt! He pulled me toward him. I slid bare-bottomed across the table. He stood up. I shouted as I saw his big, heavy cock bob into view. The fly of his pants had been unzipped. He displayed himself to my eyes. He yanked me down off the table and forced me to stand on the floor. He kept my back to him. He pushed on my head and made me lean forward over the table. I felt my lips brush the tablecloth. I kissed it. I closed my eyes. I felt the manís penis nose its way up between my legs. I tried to clip them together but he slapped my bottom, hard. ìOuch!î I gasped. ìOh!î I heard, beside me. My eyes popped open. It was my aunt! She was leaning over the table now, just like me, standing right beside me. ìOh, we are to be fucked. Iím so sorry!î my aunt said to me. ìYouchch! I can feel your penis, sir! Itís going in my pussy!î I declared to the man behind me. ìOh!î my aunt said again. She winced. ìNot there!î she begged. ìWet yourself in her pussy. Then, when weíve lubed ourselves in their cunts, weíll have a go at their asses,î the man with the hard face said to someone who was standing behind my aunt. ìYeah,î a male voice laughed. ìOh, they are to be raped!î our hostess said, in a voice that was anything if not delighted. ìPlease, sir, take your dick out of me!î I pleaded with the man who was intruding himself up between my legs. ìIt is no use! We only invite worse if we resist,î my aunt sighed. Her face gave a half-hearted smile. Our breasts bounced together as we were both invaded. ìHeís doing me, auntie!î I shouted. ìIt is too late,î Rebecca said. She leaned toward me and kissed me on my lips. ìAccept, darling. Do not fight it.î ìWork your hips,î the man taking liberties with my cunt ordered. I wriggled, trying to break free, and he complimented me. ìOh, please donít be too hard on her,î my aunt begged. ìI will have her as I see fit,î the man behind me answered. I shouted helplessly as I felt his big, urgent thing nose up into my twat. He stretched me with it and filled me up. I was sure he was going to tear me open, like a rag doll being abused by a toothsome dog. ìOh, you are so large!î my aunt gasped to the man doing her. ìWait until I shove it up your ass,î the man groaned. ìNo!î my aunt sighed in reply. Together they began moving as one. ìYes,î the man insisted. His voice rich with satisfaction. ìGod, youíre tight,î he added. ìI canít wait to feel what your shit hole feels like.î All around us now, women were put to menís prongs. Many were bent over the table, just like my aunt and myself. Others preferred to sit, the woman facing the man, poised in his lap, his penis going up inside her as she began bouncing on it. One woman and man laid down on the table, and began humping for all to see, using the table as if it were a kind of stage, and they performers. He lay over her and drilled into her splayed thighs, working his hips like a gymnast. She lay beneath, moaning, kicking up her legs. She clutched at his back. ìYou shall need oil if you are to do their bottoms,î our hostess said to the two men raping my aunt and myself. She appeared at their sides. She stood between them and patted their asses. ìNo, please!î my aunt whimpered. ìOh, I donnnnna wish to,î I shivered. I felt surprisingly gentle hands vent the cheeks of my fanny. Fingers slid down the sloping sides of my behind, into my furrow. One of them found my hole. It pressed. I shouted. The penis in me withdrew. It left me gaping at the air with my cunt. I felt a bulbous cock head slide up from my empty cunt and press hard within my ass. ìGive me the oil,î the man behind me said gruffly to our hostess. She laughed, and I felt wetness sprinkled into the crack of my behind. ìOh, God! Please! It will hurt her!î my aunt said. There was high tension in her voice, as if she were already being entered from behind. ìI donít need the oil. I am slick with her own juices,î the man behind my aunt said. ìUnnnhhhh,î my aunt groaned. It sounded as if all the air were being driven from her lungs. ìOook!î I gasped. There was a sudden hard push against my anus. Hands spread my ass wide. Pressure built up against my behind. ìNo, donít!î I shouted. I felt a fleshy hardness penetrate me. It pushed deep. I felt the big tube of his penis work up into me like a big slug. I beat my fists on the table. I shouted. My aunt screeched out her displeasure beside me. ìThey are a tight pair,î our hostess said. ìGo slowly, men. I should not wish to see our two newest guests injured.î The men obeyed. They took their time. I do not know which would have been worse, being fucked quickly and hard, or slowly and methodically and deliberately, as they did us, savoring our every whimper and adjusting themselves within us until both my aunt and myself had accepted the entire length of each man up our bottoms. ìNow, cum,î I remember our hostess saying, when at last the two men were accomodated to us, and we to them. Somehow my aunt and I leaned close together, and kissed. Then both of us received a stunning tribute of sperm up in our guts.