My acting career was doing well. I had worked nonstop for six months and my checking and savings accounts were at their best level in my seven years in the acting industry.

As the sidekick to the hero of a Spanish soap, I had earned seventy eight thousand dollars in five months of work. This was followed –or sandwiched in- with two regional TV commercials, a small part in an independent film shot in Palm Beach and a few lines in a big budget film shot in Key West. I had earned over a hundred thousand in the first half of the year and I was contracted to the starring role in a thriller set in Miami. It was going to pay only thirty-five thousand –peanuts for a starring role- but it was a low budget project and provided me with my first opportunity as the main player.

I needed a vacation and I could count on at least two weeks of down time until the thriller started shooting. I decided to bake in the sun, inhale reefer smoke and wash it down with Chilean wine, eat some shrimp and steak and have sex with Gina or Lynn, or both, my two loving cougars.

Gina is a thirty six year old Puerto Rican with killer legs, a terrific ass, nice breasts and an amazing lack of inhibitions. Twice divorced with two kids, she is a video editor that often works on the soaps. At home she is a conservative well bred PTA mother. On more private moments she is into sex in public places, rough dirty talk and role playing.

Lynn is a very fit woman in her early forties with short, layered hair, a hard body and lots of energy. Lynne is also divorced, no kids and is a partner in a shoe boutique where a pair of designer shoes cost a small fortune. She –like Gina- swings both ways and the three of us have had magnificent sexual adventures together.

One of the most recent escapades took place in the Florida Keys. Lynne, the athletic type, owns an old, eighteen foot single sail boat which took the three of us away for a weekend, to an uninhabited key a few knots west of Big Pine.

Wisely, we did not go within mosquito season. The night air was pleasant and we were the only souls in this two acre clump of land in surrounded by dark water. It was cozy and we had good food –sandwiches, potato salad, cheeses, fruits, and most important, wine and weed.

It did not take long for us to shed our bathing suits, smoke a couple of bowls and finish of a bottle of Chilean wine. After that it did not take long either for Gina to be naked on the sand with Lynn above her, touching, probing, kissing, nibbling her ears and neck while I kneeled next to them, rubbing my cock on their flesh, my fingers fondling cunts, caressing ass, teasing nipples.

I screwed both of them and they both performed oral sex on me while I was flat on my back, looking at the stars above while two tongues licked my shaft and testicles. When I was ready to explode, Lynn’s mouth closed over my cock, her teeth nibbling my dick’s head. The orgasm into her mouth was intense, savage, totally amazing.

Later that night after more fine smoke and wine, I took Gina’s ass, pounding her rear as she laid face down on the beach blanket, her hips pushing back asking me for more. Gina is extremely vocal while Lynn is the opposite, her sexual conversation usually limited of moans and grunts.

We slept on blankets in the sand, went for an early morning nude swim and I fucked Lynn in the water, her legs curled around the back of mine, her cunt impaled by my cock as she clung to me and Gina stood next to us, her hands caressing my balls and Lynn’s tight ass.

It was a memorable weekend picnic on a clump of rock and grass surrounded by a green and pale blue Ocean.

Now, after weeks and weeks of non-stop work, I needed an adventure like that to charge up my erotic ego.

I made plans with both but my first day of vacation would start with a meeting with a friend named Manning, who had insisted on a face to face over breakfast at a restaurant on Ocean Drive.

Manning is an interesting character. I’ve seen many like him in my six years as a professional actor. Manning is a fringe member of the film industry, with a pinch of legitimacy to his alter ego claims.

In reality, he is a wealthy businessman in his late thirties or early forties with a small paunch and a carefully groomed appearance. Manning’s father owns twenty-four dry cleaners spread out over ten cities in the Miami Dade County area. Manning stumbled through college and from there went straight to the vice presidency of his old man’s company with a six figure salary, a Mercedes-Benz car and twenty per cent of the company stock, a graduation gift from his parents.

He has worked for his father since then, at least fifteen years, probably more. Manning owns an estate home in Miami Beach, a Jag, a Mercedes, a customized van, a stunning trophy wife named Denise and a sizable stock portfolio that holds its own even in a bad economy, for his investments are all in public utilities and carefully selected high technology shares.

That is Manning but there is also the other Manning, film and theatrical producer, a bon vivant showbiz man all the way.

It started a few years ago, when the socially active dry cleaner executive was asked by a friend to a fund raiser for a local community theatre. Manning liked show business and he donated a five thousand dollar tax deduction. He was thrilled when his name appeared in the program, acknowledging him –and a dozen others- as a producer of the performances.

Suddenly, producer sounded impressive, glamorous, a lot better than dry cleaning businessman.

Building up a resume for his new alter ego, Manning entered into his new fantasy life with determination. He financially backed a community play annually in which he picked up another hefty tax deduction and in the last five years he has been an investor in two local, low budgets independent films, in which I had modest feature roles. The movies were made cheap but they had fair plot and good directing. Still, they were shoddily marketed and Manning lost about forty grand in the first one and maybe broke even in the second.

Point is that Manning has been a film and theater producer for seven or eight years and has never made a dime in the industry and has in fact, lost tens of thousands in his investments, but he does not care; he is acting out a fantasy life, playing a role. Ask him what he does for a living and out will come a fancy engraved card proclaiming him a film and theatre entrepreneur, impressing the unknowing.

Manning is always talking film deals and projects that never happen. Although he is a tiny starving fish in a large ocean, he sees himself as a Swordfish, but he is harmless and has in fact helped a number of actors –myself among them- by sponsoring projects.

For a few weeks back about four years, we had whored together and hung out at bars before he started dating Denise and married her quickly.

One of our best adventures together had been with a woman named Lisa. She was in her late thirties and had been fairly cute but extremely insecure. In search of self esteem she redid her image with all those injections for cheekbones and lips, resulting in her looking like a cartoon drawing. She thought she looked glamorous but I thought it was pathetic.

Lisa was married but her husband traveled a lot, so she had time to screw around. She claimed that Manning had been her first cheating experience and I can’t say yes or no on that, but I can tell you she went nuts for him.

She had low self esteem and was a perfect target for Manning’s show bizz persona. She was living a bland marital relation and suddenly she is being courted by a film and theater producer who wears designer suits and owns an eighty-thousand dollar car. He takes her to his estate home in Miami Beach and she sees a wall full of plaques and photos. Mind you, there are no plaques from chambers of commerce or photos of his dry cleaning empire. Instead, every photo on the wall is related to his theatre and film activities: posters of his two movies, framed programs of theatrical productions, a gratitude plaque from a community theater, a second plaque from an acting troupe, photos of Manning on the sets, as well as photos with local celebrities, taken at charity dinners. After seeing all this, her only option was to be flattered and taken.

It wasn’t long before Manning talked her into a threesome, bringing me over to become the new addition to their sex life. He had shown her a video of one of his movies where I play a bartender in a mob bar and told her that if she wanted it, she could be fucked by a movie star, which was an exaggeration as to my status in the industry. To her, however, I was a bona fide movie star and she eagerly agreed to meet me. Despite her caricature face, she did have a nice body with a thick bush, also being most willing to participate. While her husband was off on a business trip to Alabama, I fucked Lisa in all three holes as did Manning.

She sucked cock better than most, willing to please, hoping for a compliment or a pat on the head for a shaft well blown. She fucked the same way, adapting to please, working with the dominant rhythm being imposed, opening up cunt and ass for easier penetration, pushing back against the meat that ravaged her, tightening her cunt to hold the cock inside her, moving with purpose, grinding, humping, pushing onto a savage climax.

Manning ordered Lisa around as a director does an actress. On one occasion he had her squatting on a coffee table, masturbating while she begged us to fuck her ass, saying her husband never did her that way, then on all fours on the table I took her rear hole, my cock impaled between her clenched ass cheeks. The orgasm was intense, my meat pulsing inside her, filling her ass with my warm cream.

On a weekday when her husband was away, we had Lisa perform a strip at an amateur night contest. This was not easy, because she was afraid someone might recognize her, so we drove to Naples, about eighty or ninety miles away from Miami, where no one knew her. She was nervous at first, but adapted quickly and enjoyed the situation. Afterwards, we stopped in a rest area of the Everglades and fucked her on a picnic table.

Manning shared Lisa with me several times until he met Denise, his party animal days coming to an end. Since marrying Denise he was only seen at local premieres and benefit dinners, hardly ever at a nightclub or activity event.

Denise is a sizzler of a woman. A few years older than me, in her mid thirties, she is of average size with milk white skin, red hair, brown eyes, generous wide lips, natural perfect breasts, a very desirable full ass and firm thighs. She is very sensuous, extremely desirable; Denise can make any man conjure up instant sexual fantasies.

Our breakfast was buffet style so I loaded a plate with grapes, slices of oranges and pears, square chunks of watermelon and some mini corn muffins. That and a tall glass of mango juice made up my breakfast while Manning enjoyed a plate of eggs, Spanish sausage and home fries washed down with a pitcher of water.

Manning talked about a possible film venture which did not sound promising, but I humored him because it’s always better to be nice than to be aloof.

The conversation came to a stop and we ate in silence for about a minute before he decided to start on another topic.

“Eduardo,” he said, “I really think highly of you. You are a fine actor and you treat all directors and producers with respect. I never heard you bad mouth anyone and based on our partying around days I have come to the conclusion that you are both uninhibited and discreet, which is a very rare combination.”

“Thanks. I appreciate that…”

“What I am about to propose is something you won’t turn down.”

“Good, but I must tell you I am under contract for a film that starts shooting in two weeks, so I won’t be available for at least a month.”

“No,” Manning said, “this is not about the industry. What I am offering is a sexual evening with my wife.”

“I did not expect that,” I answered, “Not at all. How does she feel about this?”

“Fine, she’s ready. Let me explain. For as hot as she looks, Denise is practically a novice in sex. She lost her cherry to her first college boyfriend and married the second one. Her marriage lasted six years and I came along and married her four years ago. Her first two lovers were very sexually orthodox and boring and she did not know any better.”

“So you have enlightened her.”

“She is very good at sex, multi-orgasmic but very straight…missionary position mostly, some oral, seldom anal and nothing else. The first two, almost three years were frustrating. I would try to spice things up but she was negative. She refused to watch porn, would not attend any kind of sex show, even in another city. Nothing worked. I was almost resigned to a life of vanilla sex until about a year and a half ago. Her old man fell ill and his medical plan did not cover all expenses. I took him to a specialist, covered anything the insurance did not pay and paid some of his groceries and bills for six months. I spent around eighty grand and now the old man is fine.”

“You know, Eduardo,” Manning said, “I did it because I love my wife and it was the right thing to do. Denise was very grateful and said she would do anything I wanted, so I told her that all I wanted was for her not to be so negative sexually. I told her I would never force her into anything but only asked that she have an open mind.”

“And she has, I gather.”

“It has taken a full year to get to this level. I started with watching porn films, the best quality I could find so she would not be turned off. She wanted to please but was very hesitant, until the grass and wine loosened her inhibitions and she came to enjoy the films. This was followed by toys, vibrators, sex garments, restraints and some public sex on a beach, a boat and in my office after hours. She was nervous but very excited and we had great sex.”

I nodded, feeling my meat twitch in my pants as I pictured Denise naked on a beach or leaning over a desk, exposing, offering her holes.

“After that came attendance of a sex show on a trip to New Orleans and a visit to a male strip joint in Palm Beach. The sex show and the male strip club really turned her on. She kept wondering aloud how could people perform sex or undress in front of others, but behind her questioning there was a sense of awe and sexual excitement. She even remarked about the different dancers and when I asked her which ones she liked the best she mentioned two, so that night while we were in bed I kept telling her that those men were with her, inside her, rubbing their cocks on her face and she had a climax that surpassed any she ever had before.”

“Last month we went to a swinger’s club and although she did not participate, seeing couples –including lesbians- performing sex a few feet away from her drove her wild. On our way back home she gave me a blow job in the car and we fucked right on the living room when we arrived home, because she wanted it so bad we never made it to the bedroom. Later she told me that she had seriously considered joining the orgy but she would feel more comfortable with someone we know. Your name came up and she liked the idea, so we fucked a second time and we used your name and she was calling out your name and asking you to fuck her deep and hard.”

“Manning,” I said, “your conversation is giving me a boner.”

“I take that as a yes, then? You will have my wife?”

“With eternal gratitude.”

“Eduardo,” he said as he finished his breakfast, “This is very important to me. For years, before I married, I was into threesomes, foursomes, anything interesting. I love my wife and I want her to enjoy sex as much as I do. If she does not like this, I’ll be back to square one, bland one-on-one sex for the rest of my life. If on the other hand, she really enjoys it, I will be a very happy camper.”

“I’ll do my best to please.”

“Eduardo, we have to script this well and stage it properly,” he said in his self portrayal of a theater and film producer.

“It’s your show, Manning.”

“It will be a role playing period piece,” he announced, “Denise likes TV shows like “Spartacus,” “Rome,” “The Tudors,” stuff like that.”

“So will it be Roman or Middle Ages?” I asked.

“Roman. They had better orgies.”

Manning had it all planned out and we talked another hour that morning and several times on the phone afterwards, agreeing on a time and place and explicit details of likes and dislikes. I added a couple of ideas, including adding Lynn and Gina who loved role playing- to the cast. Manning even made arrangements with a costume company for garments.

It happened five days later, on a Saturday night. During those days Manning prepared the show. On Friday, a delivery service brought me a box with three costumes. There were two pairs of tan leather sandals that tied to above the ankle, two cream colored short – three inches above the knees- togas for Lynn and Gina. As for myself, I also had the same type of sandals and a royal blue toga that came down to just above my ankles.

Manning’s home is a two million plus Spanish colonial style mansion in Miami Beach. The center courtyard has a custom pool with a grotto look and a white marble deck. When we arrived, Manning –dressed in a red toga- told us to make ourselves at home and wait for them by the pool.

He had set the stage well. The pool deck was light by candles which produced a reddish hue over the Roman orgy scenario. The house that wrapped around the pool, although new, had a rustic look, with stucco walls and balconies with highly polished wood railings. The pond like grotto pool with dark boulders and the white marble deck could almost be a decent shooting location for a period piece.

Manning had excelled in the furnishings. Obviously, he had been planning this event for weeks, for the furniture he had bought or rented was not common. The marble deck contained on one side of the pool a large exercise mat –ten by ten- covered with a burgundy blanket. On the other side, there were a half dozen curule style Roman chairs, a couple of love chair couches, a wooden massage table with a tray of oil bottles and a second sizable table covered with a tray of fresh fruit, several cheeses, a Serrano ham and a dozen bottles of Italian wines and sangria. Even the drinking goblets were stage props, more for a Centurion than for modern man.

The chairs were arranged in a circle and in the middle there was a large Turkish hookah pipe, with a half dozen sucking hoses and a bowl the size of a coffee cup, filled with red and green marihuana.

Gina, being into role playing, nodded respectfully.

“This guy really knows how to role play,” she said.

I agreed. The only modern technology in the set consisted of piped in music playing soft harp and flute sounds.

The Manning house went dark and the scene around us seemed even more of another time and place. As an actor I was enjoying myself.

Manning and Denise joined us at the candle lit deck. Denise wore a white toga that came down to her knees. She looked sensational, red hair well groomed; makeup well applied, her breasts pushing against the toga fabric, her milk white legs showing as porcelain under the candle glow.

I was in character. Manning and his wife wanted a role playing situation and I was an actor; I had done research on Rome in the internet and after the salutations and introductions, as we sat down to drink wine and puff on the hookah pipe, I began talking about Rome as though we were living in the era.

I talked about Roman art and foods while we drank a smooth wine and smoked a very strong weed. Denise had been fairly quiet, occasionally smiled nervously and I could not tell if she was afraid or anxiously willing, or perhaps both.

On Thursday morning at 8:50, Camilla got out of Agape’s car on Bay Street with her umbrella opened immediately after, for it was pouring rain. She thanked him for the ride to work and hurried into the building where the office was. As she went towards the elevator, she thought about her ‘experimenting’ on her dad. The marijuana and ecstasy definitely made him less resistant to erotic psychic influence, and she used Nigrovum on him to mitigate his agonizing discomfort from the after-effects of the ecstasy. He seemed ready for Candice to distract him sexually from Carrie, whom Camilla would have the displeasure of meeting on Sunday evening, after her return from her business trip to Montreal with Mr. Holland. She was looking forward to that, of course.

Her upcoming sexual adventures with her boss, as well as the one she’d had with Alex in Queen’s Park, seemed to be satisfying her urges for phallic fulfillment. She hadn’t had any of those ‘intense wet dreams’ since Sunday night, so she assumed the regular enjoyment of male lovers–as she’d had in Vancouver while stripping at Luvlee’s–would keep the erotic chaos out of her subconscious.

Though she’d given Agape another psychic erection on Wednesday night, with a sexy dream of black-haired Candice, she didn’t dare sleep beside him as she had done on Tuesday night; she knew he would never do anything sexual with her, but she was afraid she would with him, so difficult had it been for her–uninhibitedly high on ecstasy–to resist the temptation on Tuesday night. Agape, apparently influenced by the Nigrovum, seemed more open to the idea of having sex with Candice when Camilla talked with him at breakfast on Thursday morning; for he said his dreams had been pleasant, and he even asked her, “So, how’s everything going with your pretty black-haired–uh, red-haired friend, Candice? I haven’t seen her in a while.”

Though that would have been a perfect opportunity to suggest that Candice come over to the house for a sex, drugs, and Nigrovum party, Camilla was worried that Candice was doing too much of the drugs to be able to concentrate on either the sex or the Nigrovum. Camilla would have to insist that Candice leave the dope alone for a while–not an easy thing to get Candice to agree to do–before coming over to Agape’s.

As Camilla walked into the office, she saw Sue, who’d obviously been gossiping with two male co-workers about what must have been going on in Mr. Holland’s locked office. As Camilla passed by Sue, she heard the gossip say, “Tramps like her are why women still don’t have as much power as men.”

As pouting Camilla went into her boss’s office, she thought, Candice and I are two women who have more power than you–or any man–will ever fucking know. At her desk the whole time between then and Mr. Holland’s arrival, she just did the work he’d told her to do–arranging the business trip, among other things. She never left the office, being too afraid to face her hateful co-workers, and too afraid they’d provoke her to use Nigrovum to harm them.

Mr. Holland arrived around 10:30, so eager was he to get away from his domineering wife. Camilla saw a scar on his left wrist, inadequately covered by his watch; she psychically sensed other injuries on his body, on his shoulders, back, and legs. She also correctly guessed how he got the injuries…and from whom.

“Good morning, sir,” she said as he walked painfully to his desk. “Sir, you’re hurt.”

“Oh, you must have seen the mark on my wrist,” he said.

“I think you have more injuries than that, by the way you were limping to your desk.”

“I, uh, rode my bicycle this morning and, uh, fell off.”

“Really?” she asked. “How many times?”

“I’d rather not talk about it, sweetie, if you don’t mind.”

“OK, sir.” She was growing from just lusting after him to feeling genuine compassion for him. Obviously, his wife was not only verbally attacking him, but physically, too. The mark on his wrist looked like it was made by the edge of a frying pan, which Mrs. Holland probably had also used to hit him all over with.

Camilla had heard his wife belittle him in the office on Wednesday, and she wanted to compensate for his feelings of humiliation by making him feel manly in front of her. So Camilla was happy to play the role of submissive secretary, eagerly obedient, to make him feel better.

She’d decided to dress more modestly today–in the same outfit, beige dress pants and flowery-patterned brown dress shirt, as she’d worn when she met Bob’s brother Leo (albeit now with a purple bra and panties)–in order to provoke less gossip among Sue and the others in the office, and to keep his jealous wife at bay; but she was now regretting the decision. To cheer him up, she wanted to look sexy again.

“Shall I make you some coffee, sir?” she asked.

“That’s very sweet of you, Camilla, but it’s not your job,” he said. “You aren’t my errand girl.”

“Oh, I don’t mind. I like pleasing you.” She started undoing the buttons on her shirt so he could see her bra.

Smirking lewdly at her cue, he then said, “Speaking of pleasing me, and while you’re unbuttoning your shirt, there is one thing you can do for me.”

“Oh?” she asked, eager to please. “What’s that?”

“Don’t ever wear that outfit again.”

Frowning, she asked, “You don’t like this, sir?”

“No. Come on: you’re prettier than that; wear only dresses to work, or mini-skirts.” He couldn’t believe Camilla was allowing him to talk that way to her, but actually, it was turning her on.

“I’m sorry, sir. I dressed this way to protect you from any more gossip, and so your wife wouldn’t get mad.”

“Ah, fuck her,” he said. “Nothing makes her happy.”

“Well, I don’t wanna wear these clothes if they don’t please you, sir. Do you want me to take them off?”

“Yes, I do,” he said most bluntly.

“Alright,” she said with timid compliance, and immediately unzipped her pants and pulled them down. Then she undid the rest of her shirt buttons and took the shirt off. Now she stood before him in only her purple underwear and high heels. “Do my bra and panties look OK, or do you want me to take them off, too?” Her hands were on her bra hook, ready to undo it.

“As much as I’d like that,” he said, watching her unhook her bra and move her hands to the sides so as just about to bare her nipples for him, “that won’t be necessary.” She refastened her bra hook. “If someone knocks on the door, it’ll be harder to get you dressed again. By the way, you forgot to lock the door.” She locked it. “Besides, your underwear looks very sexy on that perfect body of yours.”

Affecting a sneer at his lechery, but happily acquiescing to it all the same, she said, “Thank you, sir,” and walked over to him.

“Turn around for me, sweetie. Lemme get a good look at you.”

“Yes, sir,” she said, and held up her hair as she slowly turned around. When she had her back to him, she bent down and pointed her ass out at him, gyrating it slowly clockwise and counter-clockwise. Looking back at him, she asked, “Do you like that?”

“Do I ever,” he grunted. Leaning forward on his chair so her ass would be mere millimetres from his face, he was rock-hard in his trousers, and his nose was searching for faecal smells.

“But what about when I have to go out, sir?” she asked in her ditzy ‘Dolly’ voice, still gyrating for him.

“Well, put your clothes back on,” he said, still sniffing and panting.

“But Mr. Holland, I don’t wanna wear clothes you don’t like, and I can’t go out in my underwear. What am I gonna do?”

“Well, I’ll just have to take you out to an early lunch, and buy you a new dress.”

“Oh, sir! Thank you!” she squealed, then sat on his pointy lap, facing him, put her arms around his neck, and kissed him on the cheek.

Though he appreciated her physical contact, the weight of her body reminded him of his injuries. “Ah!” he groaned. “Be careful of my bruises, cupcake.”

“Oh, sorry, sir,” she said, then got an idea. If Nigrovum could help her heal quickly, why not use it to help him heal faster, too? “Wait, sir. Let me try something. I think I can help you feel better.” She put her head on his left shoulder and hugged him tighter.

“What do you want to do?” he asked.

“Please don’t say anything for a minute or so,” she insisted, beginning to concentrate. “I need to focus my thoughts.”

“Whatever,” he said, completely clueless as to what she was going to do. They sat there silently for about a minute, her concentrating on all of his bruised and scarred areas. The Nigrovum helped her locate them exactly. His body started to vibrate mysteriously with hers. She visualized all those hurt areas perfectly healed, and after a minute, he was as good as new.

“OK, sir,” she said, moving her head back so she could look at him. “How do you feel now?”

He moved around, imagining he’d detect soreness, but fantastically, he felt none. “I feel…great,” he said in amazement. “What did you do?”

“Let’s just say an angel or two fell out of the sky and became friends with me.”

Looking at her as if she were speaking to him in an alien language, he said, “Whatever you did, thank you.”

“My pleasure,” she said, then got up, turned around, and sat on his lap again. She leaned back and rested her back against his chest; then she started grinding on his erection for a while. His hands roamed all over her soft, smooth, pink skin: her arms, belly, and legs. Sometimes he gently pulled on the elastic of her panties and let go, snapping it against her skin. She was happy to indulge him, for after all the pain he’d endured, he deserved some pleasure.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. “Miles?” a man’s voice called.

“Just a minute,” the boss said. “Up you get, sweetie. Wear this.” He gave her his raincoat.

“Yes, sir,” she said, getting up. As she walked to the side of the room with his raincoat in her hands, he spanked her on the behind as he went over to answer the door. “What is it?”

“I just got an e-mail from Mr. Murdoch,” the man said. “He wants to know about when those technical issues will be resolved.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Mr. Holland said. “I’ll e-mail him about that sometime this afternoon.” The man walked away. “OK, baby, let’s go shopping.” Camilla, wearing his raincoat, put her shirt and pants in her desk drawer, and she and her boss got their umbrellas and left the office together, insouciant of all the gossips.

They walked in the heavy rain from Bay Street to Yonge, arriving at the Eaton’s Centre about ten minutes later. On the second floor, they found a women’s clothing store she liked, then they looked through the dresses to find one he liked. He found a tight-fitting red one that would go down to her knees. She went into the fitting room and took off his raincoat; holding the door open, he ogled her in her bra and panties.

“Wait a minute,” he said as she was about to put the dress on. “Before you put it on, lemme look at you for a minute.”

“Yes, sir,” said, putting the dress on a hook. She then began posing for him in various erotic ways: first she sat on the bench and spread her legs wide open, putting her hand in her panties and briefly masturbating for him; then she got up, turned around, and bent over, gyrating her ass again. He pulled on the elastic of her panties at the back, revealing some of her anal cleft, then let go, snapping the elastic against her ass. “Ooh!” she squealed from the sting of the snapping, but she was all too happy to indulge his every desire. Encouraged, he pulled on the elastic again; this time, when her anal cleft was showing, she put her hands on her ass, opened her buttocks out wide, and let him see her brown anus for the first time. She looked back at him to see his reaction: he just stared for several seconds, bug-eyed in awe of the crude beauty she was willingly letting him see. “Have you seen enough, sir? Or shall I show you more?”

“Oh, uh, that’s OK,” he said, remembering he was in a public place. “Put on the dress, sweetie.”

“OK,” she said in a sing-song voice, and put the dress on. It was a perfect fit. He bought it, and she wore it out of the store.

Walking in the direction of a food court, they approached a store selling women’s lingerie and underwear.

“Oh, sir,” she said. “Can I look at the underwear here for a minute, please? I really like it.”

“Sure,” he said. “I like it, too. I’ll even buy you some, if you like.”

“Oh, you’re so sweet to me. I’ll let you pick what you’d like to see me wearing, OK?”

“Sure,” he said, and together they looked through all the colours. “Let’s see: I’ve seen you in white, pink, and purple underwear: let’s find a new colour for you. Here, we’ll get these red bra and panties. I think you’ll look real sexy in them.”

“Thank you, sir,” she said, and kissed him on the cheek.


After buying them lunch in an elegant French restaurant, Mr. Holland took Camilla back to the office at about 1:10 PM. His wife was still there, contrary to his hopes that she’d have left by then to go back to her job. She was standing by his desk. Though Camilla was glad she’d hidden her shirt and pants so Mrs. Holland wouldn’t see them and suspect anything, she was still afraid of what was going to happen. Camilla went fearfully to her desk, while jealous Mrs. Holland walked up to her husband with a threatening look in her eyes.

“Where did you go with the slut?” she asked.

“Honey, I…” he began to say.

“Shut up, you stupid asshole,” she snapped at him. Then she whispered, “If next week I find out you went to Montreal with that whore secretary of yours, I’ll castrate you in your sleep. Bye.” She left the office.

“M-maybe you shouldn’t come with me on the business trip,” he said with a trembling voice.

“Maybe I should, sir,” she said, locking the door and taking off her dress. She went to his desk and sat on his lap. “I don’t like the way she treats you. You need another woman to satisfy your emotional needs. I’m willing to fill that position.” For the time being, anyway, she thought.

“But she said she’s gonna…”

“She won’t do anything. Not if my ‘angel friends’ and I can help it. I’ll make sure no one knows we’re going to Montreal together.” She kissed him on the cheek, bounced on his hardening cock, and let him grope her in her underwear again. He cupped his hands around her breasts and gently squeezed them, and she rotated her ass clockwise on his rock-hard erection. His hands wandered all over her skin; at one point, she bent forward, and he touched her back. “Wanna snap my bra, sir?”

“I’d love to,” he moaned, pulled on the bra strap, and let go, snapping it on her back. “I love how you indulge me.”

“I love pleasing you, Mr. Holland.”


That night at Club Ritz, Camilla talked with Candice about their plans to turn Agape away from Carrie. Candice, high on cocaine, was reluctant to leave her beloved drugs alone, even for just a few days, but Camilla insisted.

“I can use Nigrovum to keep my high under control, Camil,” Candice said. “I miss you.”

“I think Nigrovum is making you want more drugs,” Camilla said. “It was driving me nuts, now it’s driving you nuts. You’re turning into a junkie, and you’re hurting yourself. You told me to ease off using the Nigrovum; now you ease off the drugs. Baby, I’m worried about you.”

Throwing her arms around Camilla, Candice began to cry. “I’m so lonely, Camil. Ever since I moved into that new apartment. Are we ever gonna make love again?”

“Of course we will,” Camilla said, kissing her on the cheek.

“Oh, yeah? When?”

“Right now.” Camilla kissed her on the lips, then unclipped Candice’s black bra. Candice pulled off her panties as Camilla, still pecking her on the lips, removed Candice’s bra. Camilla then started kissing naked Candice on the neck, and kissed her way down to her belly. Candice ran her hands through squatting Camilla’s hair as she began licking Candice’s pussy, right in front of all the customers, who couldn’t have been any more eager to watch this sexy spectacle. Camilla squeezed Candice’s buttocks as she licked, opening them to expose her red anus. The customers cheered as Camilla got Candice’s clitoris hard as a stone.

What made this spectacle especially exciting for the men watching was how they knew clothed Camilla wasn’t a stripper; she was just eating out her friend. Camilla put her left index finger inside Candice’s ass and her right finger inside Candice’s wet cunt. After tickling her G-spot for a minute or so, Camilla felt Candice’s come pour out; she lapped it all up.

“Will that satisfy you, for now at least?” Camilla asked, looking up at her lover. “I know I haven’t been there much for you this past week, but there have been complications, OK? I don’t want you high at Daddy’s home; you won’t be able to concentrate on controlling his mind in the state you’re in now.”

“OK,” Candice sighed.

“Also, I’m going to Montreal with my boss for the weekend; I’ll be back by Sunday afternoon.”

“You’re leaving me?” Candice asked, getting sad again.

“Oh, I’ll be back before you know. My boss wants to fuck me, so we’re going on a business trip together. You’ll be OK: just hang on till I get back. Come over on Sunday night; but don’t be high.”

“OK, OK,” Candice said. “But before you leave tonight, let’s make love again.”

“Sure,” Camilla said. “When are you going onstage?”

“Right now, actually. Come watch me.”

“With pleasure,” Camilla said, and she followed Candice over to the stage. As Camilla approached the tip rail, she saw the back of the head of a familiar-looking man. When she looked over to see his face, she saw no one other than Mr. Holland! “Oh, hi sir!” she squealed with delight. Sitting on his lap, she asked, “What brings you here?”

“A strong urge to get away from my wife, what else?” he said, his hard-on already growing in his pants. “Why are you here, of all places?”

“My friend, who’s onstage now, works here.”

“Wait a minute: you were the one eating her pussy just now?”

“Yep: she and I have been lovers for several months now.”

“So you like girls, eh?”

“Yeah,” she said with a lewd giggle. “Men, too.”

“Do you have any flaws?” he asked, awed by how boundlessly sexy Camilla was.

“I dunno. Wanna find out?” she asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Would you like to see me naked, sir?”

“I’d love to, but–I mean–are you moonlighting here?”

“No, I’m not a stripper. I mean, I used to be a lap-dancer, but not now.”

“Then why are you working her tonight?”

“I’m not; I just want to please you by showing you what my body looks like.”

“You’re so thoughtful, Camilla.”

“Come on, sir. Let’s go into one of the private rooms.” As they walked away from the stage, she gestured to Candice where she would be, so the girls could meet there later.

When they went into the private room, both of them were amazed at what they saw. Expecting to see only couches and coffee tables, they also saw a toilet, a shower stall, and even a bed! Obviously, the mafia owners of Club Ritz were paying off the cops to turn a blind eye to how the strip joint was doubling as a whorehouse.

“Wow, this is great!” Camilla said as they went over to a couch and sat down. “I’m working here; I’m definitely working here.”

“So, you used to be a lap-dancer, eh?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she said, sitting on his lap.

“I can believe that, the way you can grind on a man’s cock.”

“I like pleasing you; you don’t get enough pleasure.” A new song began. “OK, I guess it’s time to show you my body.” She got up and danced slowly in front of him, swaying her hips from side to side and unzipping her dress at the back. When her dress came off, she asked him, “See anything different, sir?”

Reba Lyon started masturbating in her grade twelve English class to relieve the boredom of her preachy, prolix teacher, Ms. Kiss. Reba slipped her finger down under her plaid school uniform skirt, inside her pink panties, and in her wet vaginal opening. She slowly slid her finger in and out, tickling her G-spot.

“In the totalitarian society of Orwell’s novel, the government uses fear to control the people,” Kiss told her class, students in St. Anne’s Catholic Secondary School in Toronto.

Connie, an 18-year-old, plain-looking, pimple-faced classmate, noticed Reba’s fingering, and took furtive glances at her from a few desks in front and to the left of Reba. Breathing heavier, she started fingering herself, too.

“In the totalitarian society of Aldous Huxley’s novel, the powers that be use pleasure to manipulate the masses: a drug called ‘soma’ gives the people a high that serves as a mental vacation from their daily troubles; also, right from childhood, the people are subjected to hypnopaedia, subliminal messages given to them while they’re sleeping to train their minds to make them grow into the kinds of people the government wants them to be. They become docile, obedient, and happily accepting of the life to which they’re predestined.”

One 18-year-old boy sitting next to Reba noticed what she was doing; he sent a text message to a male friend of his (the same age as him), one sitting diagonally to the right of Reba. The text message said to get video of Reba’s masturbating. The second boy surreptitiously held his cell-phone, set to camera, pointing at Reba’s crotch.

Reba, a pretty, petite 18-year-old with black eyes and dyed black hair, wasn’t aware of anyone watching her, so she continued touching herself (had she known she was being watched, she wouldn’t have cared anyway). Her labia were swollen, her clitoris rock-hard, and her vagina dripping wet. Sighing, she looked up at the clock on the wall. It was 2:10. Fuck, she thought; another forty minutes of listening to this bitch ramble on about the virtues of anarchism versus the evils of the state. Ms. Kiss, just give us an assignment and put us into groups, please. Her finger tickled her clitoris, and she could feel an orgasm coming soon. She sighed softly.

Trying to ignore the rude ignoring and undisguised boredom she was getting from her class, Ms. Kiss went on. “Fear and pleasure, powerful tools for the government to use to trick you into doing their bidding. Extreme states of fear or pleasure make the mind especially vulnerable to the power of suggestion, or mind manipulation.”

The boy sitting next to Reba couldn’t wait to see the video his friend was getting. I hope he’s got the angle right for the camera, he thought. Still, he used his imagination as he watched her sighing and fingering herself.

Connie was enjoying herself too. Leaning her head on her hand and staring at Reba’s crotch, Connie was masturbating as furiously as the object of her lesbian love was.

With a sigh not of lust but of annoyance, Kiss went on. “The media, with its twisting of the facts to serve the government’s nefarious agenda, is one way they manipulate you. Another possible way could be to drug, or somehow alter the healthful effectiveness of, our food. Monsanto, protected by US government laws now, could do something like that south of the border with their ‘genetically modified’ food. The Conservative Party of Canada may do it here one day, too.”

Reba’s pussy was dripping wet; her finger was vibrating against her clit with phenomenal, tireless speed. Finally, she came in her panties, though her agape mouth and sighing seemed to Ms. Kiss to be a yawn.

“Ms. Lyon, I’m sorry, am I boring you?!” Kiss suddenly snapped at Reba, who straightened up and tried to pretend to be interested, as did Connie and those two boys. “I know you’d much rather fiddle with Facebook on your cellphones, one of many forms of media that world governments are trying to manipulate to their advantage, but what I have to say will surely affect your future. So this is important! Only stupid, superficial people waste their time pursuing pleasure; smart people look for the meaning under it all. You’re a smart girl, Ms. Lyon. I suggest you listen up!”

“Yes, Ms. Kiss (my ass),” Reba said, whispering the last two words.

After class, Ms. Kiss stood in the hall by the doorway to her classroom, watching all the students pass by. She didn’t notice those two boys watching and enjoying the well-recorded video close-up of Reba touching herself, but she did notice another teacher looking over at some people with suspicion in his eyes. Ms. Kiss walked over to him.

“Brent? What’s wrong?” she asked. “You seem to see something worrying.”

“I do,” he said. “Have you ever noticed something funny about Bing’s students? The female ones, I mean?”

“Oh?” she asked. “What about them?”

“They’re always smiling whenever they go into Bing’s classroom,” Brent said. “In any other class, the girls look as bored as everyone else.”

“I don’t see what you mean. Look at those two girls, Connie and Mary. They’re going into Mr. Broder’s class, and they’re not smiling.”

“Anna, Mary’s fat, and Connie’s pimple-faced.”

“So what? You mean, only his pretty female students are thrilled to take his class?”

“Seems that way.”

“Reba Lyon’s one of Bing’s students; she’s going in now, with Connie and Mary. She’s one of the prettiest girls here, and she’s pouting. You should’ve seen the attitude she was giving me a half hour ago.”

“I’ll bet Broder will get her smiling soon enough,” Brent insisted.

“Oh, Brent, you’re being paranoid.”

“You’re a fine one to talk, Miss conspiracy theorist, always going on about the government. Now here’s Broder, a Jewish convert to Catholicism, who comes here from America to teach chemistry three years ago, not too long before our old student Winnie Smits went missing, by the way. Since when do Jews convert to Christianity much anymore? We aren’t living in antisemitic turn-of-the-century Europe. And he doesn’t have any recognizable Semitic features; he looks like a square-jawed WASP to me.” The bell rang, three o’clock.

“Are you sure I’m more paranoid than you?” Kiss asked. “Bye, Brent. Gotta get back to class.”

“Bye, Anna,” Brent said, then left.

Those two boys were still enjoying the video of Reba masturbating as they went into Mr. Broder’s chemistry class. Some other boys came over to take a look.

“Damn, that’s hot,” the boy who owned the cell-phone said as they watched Reba’s finger twitching under her exposed panties, tickling her clitoris. “She always was a bad girl.”

In the chemistry classroom, Broder, a man in his 50s, walked past Reba, who was talking to Connie.

“You gonna dance at ‘Holly’s’ tonight, Reba?” Connie asked. “I can’t wait to see you there again.”

“Shut up, zit-face,” Reba snapped. “I don’t want to whole world to know.”

“Sorry,” Connie said, desperate for Reba’s friendship.

“You blab like that again, and I’ll tell everyone here you’re a lez,” Reba warned in whispers. “You’re lucky I tolerate you at all, always going over there and seeing me. These homophobic girls would beat you up if they knew. You’d probably go missing, like Winnie. I’ll bet she’s six feet under…ooh! An ugly way to die.”

Broder now knew: Reba was a stripper at ‘Holly’s', a strip joint on Yonge Street. He knew where he was going that night. He stood before his class, ready to start teaching, but for the moment he just smiled at all the pretty girls smiling back at him, as well as at the prettiest one of all–frowning Reba.


Mr. Broder showed up at ‘Holly’s’ around ten o’clock that night. He sat at the tip rail, causing Connie, also there, to sneak away and hide in the back. Ignoring the not-so-attractive older woman spreading her legs onstage, he impatiently waited for Reba. The older woman finished her floorshow and left, then the DJ played ‘Dig It’, an old song by Skinny Puppy.

“And now,” the DJ announced, “let’s give a big hand for this very sexy lady: here’s…Reba.”

Broder and Connie had bigger grins on their faces than all the other customers combined.

Oh, why’d you have to come here tonight, Broder? Connie wondered. I wanna see Reba up at the front; you’re ruining my fun.

Reba came on the stage in a black evening gown and high heels. Her face was made up like a Goth girl: black lipstick, dark eyeshadow, thick black mascara, eyeliner, and eyebrow pencil, and white powder all over her face. She was the sexiest zombie he’d ever seen, moving sinuously all over the stage. He watched her with rapt attention, but she, apparently stoned, hadn’t noticed him…yet.

She removed her dress at the end of her first song, revealing a black lace bra and thong. All the customers cheered, Broder and Connie being the loudest. It was now that Reba noticed him. Indeed, because she was high, she simply grinned and giggled at the situation, instead of feeling hugely embarrassed.

Oh God, she thought; my teacher’s gonna see me naked in a minute. Hope he likes my undies.

Indeed, a minute into her second song, ‘Headhunter’, by Front 242, she removed her bra, revealing her small but firm breasts, with light pink areolae. He smiled at the sight of them; she giggled and waved at him.

At the end of that song, she removed her thong, revealing her soft little tuft of brown pubic hair. Again, she grinned in mild embarrassment as her teacher’s eyes roamed around her naked body, admiring her soft, white skin.

Her last song began, ‘Closer’, by Nine Inch Nails. She wrapped a black, feathery boa around her body, in part to tease the men, but also to lessen her embarrassment before Broder. She crawled around the stage, strategically letting the boa fall between her legs when she was to let him see her secret places; though the other customers got to see her pussy and asshole, he didn’t.

Connie got to see, and she was practically drooling. Oh, please Reba, she thought, let me lick you one of these nights.

The song ended, and she got off the stage, reaching for her dress. He quickly went up to her.

“Oh, please, Reba,” he begged. “Don’t cover your lovely body.”

“But sir,” she said, sitting at the side of the stage and using her arms and legs to cover her nakedness. “Haven’t you seen enough?”

“No, I haven’t, actually,” he insisted, gently taking her by the hands and slowly bringing her to her feet. “You wouldn’t let me see your vulva and anus, you naughty girl.”

“Naughty?” she giggled shyly as his eyes looked up and down her body. “Showing them is what would’ve been naughty.”

“You’re high, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” she said. “I’m starting to peak on ecstasy, and I smoked a joint before I went onstage. It lowers my inhibitions before stripping.”

“Oh, I know all about that. Could we go into one of the VIP rooms, please?”

“Oh, OK,” she said reluctantly, and they went into one. She brought a glass of vodka and orange juice with her. He sat on a couch and she, still naked, sat on a chair facing him. She put her drink on a small table to his left. “You’re not gonna get me in trouble with the school for working here and doing dope, are you?”

“No, of course not. You could get me equally in trouble for lusting after you; but you won’t, will you?”

“No. If you’re cool with my bad girl ways, I’ll be cool with you being a perv. Deal?” She put out her hand to shake his.

“Deal.” He shook her hand.

A new song began, ‘Anarchy In the UK’, by the Sex Pistols, and she got up and started to sway her hips slowly to the music.

“Ms. Kiss would love this song,” she said. “It does nothing for me.”

He raised his hands to touch her legs.

Stopping his hands, she said, “No, no touching. I can touch you, but you don’t touch me, OK?”

“OK,” he sighed in disappointment. She slowly turned around, and he admired her soft, small, round buttocks. She spread her legs out wide and bent over; finally, he got to see her pretty pink pussy, with very little hair around it. Disliking hairy girls, he was pleased. Though she didn’t know it was showing (as she hadn’t known onstage), her pretty, puckered, beige asshole was gloriously exposed, too. Having an appetite for anal sex and anilingus, Broder was delighted. Had she known what he wanted to do with that second hole, she would have been careful never to let him see it; but there it was, vulnerably displayed.

Looking back in his eyes from between her legs, and not believing she was high enough to go along with flashing for her chemistry teacher, she stretched her labia out wide to open her vagina for him. As she was occupied with this, she hadn’t noticed him drop a small white pill into her drink. It quickly dissolved and became invisible.

She sat on his lap and began rubbing her soft, smooth buttocks against his rock-hard erection. As she continued grinding on his cock, she reached over for her drink. She took a big gulp: he was glad, for he knew his drugs took effect quickly.

“Eww,” she said. “This tastes a little weird.” Nonetheless, she gulped down the last of it, put the glass back on the side table and continued her grinding.

The tingling of the ecstasy, already at its peak, was now augmented by the new drug, which gave her a euphoria that made E seem like placebos. The dim lights glowed with vivid colours; she felt an electrified thrill shoot through her body. It also seemed as though her ego was dissolving, and becoming almost indistinguishable from his, causing her to feel a deep, empathetic love for him. What an amazing high!

She was grinning in a way that, had she been sober, would have made the soreness in her cheeks unbearable. She looked back at her teacher with spaced-out, but loving eyes. He reached over to touch her tits.

“How do you feel?” he asked, confidently cupping her breasts in his hands.

“Amazing,” she sighed. “Do my breasts…feel good? Do you like…how soft…they are?”

“Oh, yes,” he grunted, gyrating his thighs in rhythm to her grinding. He put his right hand on her pussy, tickling her hard clitoris with his index finger and sliding his long finger in her wet cunt. She sighed with pleasure.

“Do you…like how…my pussy feels? Oh!”

“Yeah, it feels wonderful.” His finger reached for her G-spot. Finding it, he tickled her there.

“Ah!” she squealed. His fingers felt much better than her own very capable masturbating, though she couldn’t imagine how her dorky old teacher could feel her up so expertly.

“Are you still afraid about getting in trouble at school?” he asked in grunts.

“No, sir…I trust you…Oh!…You’re so great…Ah!”

“What are you afraid of?”

“Oh, being buried alive. I’ve seen…a few horror movies…where that happens. Scary shit…Oh!”

“I see.” He kept tickling her clit; she was approaching orgasm.

She looked back in his eyes, trying to regain some sense of lucidity, for she knew she was way too high for her own good. She asked, “What…do you think…ever happened…to Winnie Smits? Ah!”

Looking away from her and frowning slightly, he said, “I don’t know. I guess she’s dead.”

“Yeah…Murdered and buried…But not…buried alive, I hope. Oh!” She came, soaking his fingers.

He brought his come-covered fingers up to his mouth, and sucked and licked them clean. “Mmm, tasty,” he said.

She got up, turned around, and sat on his lap again, facing him. “That felt…fucking great. Thank you, sir.”

“You love me, don’t you?” he asked.

Influenced by her augmented high, she sighed, “Yes, sir. I love you.”

“You love me, and I love you.” He looked hard in her eyes.

“I love you, and you love me,” she said with willing obedience.

“You love me, and I love you,” he repeated.

“I love you, and you love me.”

“You love me, and I love you.”

“I love you, and you love me.”

“Good,” he said, then they got up. He paid her for the lap dances and left.

A half hour after he was gone, she finally came down from her high. The ecstasy high was also wearing off. At the end of the night, she got a ride home from a friend stripper. As she sat in the car, she thought about what had happened.

Was I ever high! she thought; I can’t believe I actually let him feel me up and masturbate me. He has good hands, I’ll give him that. That must have been the most powerful ecstasy ever made. Normally I make a conscious effort not to lose control, but I just couldn’t that time!

She arrived at her home, and got out of the car.

I don’t know how much longer I can get away with stripping before my parents find out, she thought; I’m still doing it, though, even though I know they’d never approve. The money’s great, I get to get high all the time, and I like being a bad girl. My school will never approve of my working in ‘Holly’s', of course, and that could be a big problem. What if Broder tells everyone? It could ruin my future. I’ve gotta think of a way not to let that happen. They’ll be on his side if I tell them he felt me up there. They always stand by their teachers, those authoritarian cunts! I’ll have to give him sexual favours to keep him quiet: ugh!


The next day, when chemistry class ended, she saw a few smiling pretty girls leave, cheerfully saying goodbye to Mr. Broder. Then Reba was all alone with him. She sat at a chair next to his desk, where he was sitting and writing.

Nervous and frowning, she asked, “Well, what do you want me to do?”

“What?” he asked, as though the night before hadn’t happened. Absorbed with his writing, he didn’t even look at her.

“You know what I mean, don’t make me say it. What do you want me to do so you won’t tell everybody about last night?”

“I told you, he said calmly, still writing. “I won’t tell anyone.”

“How can I know for sure you’ll keep your promise? My future’s at stake.” She was on the verge of tears.

“Here,” he said, holding a plate of cookies. “Have one. They’re real tasty.”

“OK,” she said, taking one and biting off a big chunk. “How can I be sure you really won’t tell anybody?”

“Because it’s in my interests not to have anyone know about my being in ‘Holly’s', either. I could get in trouble, too.”

“With your reputation, never.” She ate the rest of the cookie. “They’d never believe me if I accused you. You teachers have…too much…power.” Everything she saw soon became bright and shiny, with vivid colours. She quickly found herself in a dreamlike state, her identity and his being difficult to differentiate.

“Get up, go over and lock the door, sweetie,” he said gently.

Enjoying the high, she did as she was told, even gladly, then went back and sat down, smiling in adoration of him.

“There’s nothing to be afraid of, sweetheart,” he said, caressing her cheek. “You know I love you.”

“Yes, sir,” she said, grinning. “You love me.” Electric tingling was taking over her again, better than any ecstasy.

“Now, let me see that pretty body of yours again, sweetie. Take all your clothes off.”

“Yes, sir.” She began unbuttoning her white uniform blouse.

“There’s a good girl.” He smiled a loving, avuncular grin. “There’s no fear, no hurt, no pain here. Just love.”

“Just love, sir.” In her white lace bra now, she undid her plaid uniform skirt and dropped it on the floor, revealing her white panties.

“Lovely,” he said, ogling her underwear. “Continue undressing.”

She took off her shoes and socks, then her bra, and finally she slipped out of her panties. She now stood completely naked before him.

“What a beautiful body you have, sweetie,” he said, sighing as he looked at her breasts and pubic hair.

“Thank you, sir,” she said, grinning from ear to ear and giggling.

“Turn around for me.”

She did, and when her buttocks were facing him, he told her to stop, spread her legs, and bend over. She did as she was told.

Looking back at him upside-down from between her legs, she was displaying her asshole and pussy for him. He spread her buttocks wider, opening her anus for a better look.

“Last night I didn’t get a good chance to see your pretty anus, sweetie, so I’m checking it out now,” he said, gently sliding his index finger an inch or so inside. “Very clean, immaculate even.”

“I just came from the shower in PE class. I don’t like to stink down there,” she said.

“Good. Now, sit on my lap.”

She did. He held her naked body in his arms as a father would innocently hold his daughter. He gently, slowly rocked her back and forth, and looked into her eyes.

“You will forget everything we’ve been doing here, from when I told you to lock the door, until after you’re dressed and you’re leaving the room. Understand?” he asked.

“Yes, sir,” she said, still smiling, in a kind of hypnosis.

“You will come to my home tonight for dinner,” he went on, giving her his address on a scrap piece of paper. “You’ll eat a wonderful meal there. You’ll tell your parents you’re going to a sleep-over party with some of your female classmates, with whom you’ll be studying, so you’ll say. Wear your school uniform: I like it.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You let me touch you in ‘Holly’s’ because you like me to touch you. You’re naked with me now because you like to take your clothes off for me.”

“I-I do?” she asked in slurred words.

“Yes, of course. You love me. You’ve always been in love with me.”

“I love you, sir.”

“Yes. You love me, and I love you. Say it,” he commanded.

“You love me, and I love you.”

“You love me, and I love you.”

“You love me, and I love you,” she repeated again.

“You love me, and I love you.”

“You love me, and I love you.”

“Good,” he said. “Now put your clothes back on and leave. As you walk out the door, you’ll slowly regain your ability to control yourself (except for coming to my home tonight), and you’ll again be aware of what’s happening.”

“Yes, sir,” she said, then reached for her panties.

Just as he instructed, she got dressed and left the classroom, surprised to ‘learn’ that the door was locked.


On the bus that night on her way to Bing’s house, Reba thought hard till her brain hurt trying to remember what had happened in his classroom that afternoon.

I was high, real fuckin’ high! she thought. A buzz just like last night’s. My cheeks are still sore from smiling. That cookie he gave me: it must have been drugged! I finished coming down from the high only an hour ago or so. He must have drugged me last night, too; put a pill in my drink when I wasn’t looking. The bastard! Yet, I ‘love’ him, I really do feel like I’m in love with him. Why? It must have been the drugs. The drugs must also be why I feel compelled to go to his home tonight. If only I could remember what he did with me, said to me, when I was high in his classroom. He must have taken advantage of me, undressed me, felt me up. I vaguely, ever so vaguely, sense that that’s what he did. Did he…put his finger in my butt? Eww! As I’m with him in his home, I’ve got to fight whatever high he gives me. I can fight any drugs, even the toughest. But his are different. If only I could openly, bodily resist him: he seems to have my brain programmed to do his bidding.

She got off the bus two blocks from his house, and noticed about a dozen other girls in Catholic school uniforms walking in the direction she was going in. As she got closer to them, she noticed they were all girls from her school! All in grade twelve, all pretty, and all grinning, as if they’d just eaten his dope cookies. Now she was scared. Still, she felt compelled to go with the others to his house, as hard as she fought in her mind to resist. By resisting, all she was giving herself, though, was a splitting headache.

They reached his front porch, and a curvy, buxom blonde rang the doorbell. Bing, in a black tuxedo, opened the door, and all the girls quietly went inside.

They all went into his dining room, where a sumptuous feast was prepared. All the girls found chairs at the sides of the long table and sat down. Broder sat at one end of the table, Reba at the other.

“Let’s all welcome Reba Lyon to our group,” he said, holding up a glass of water in a toast to her.

“Welcome, Reba,” all the grinning girls intoned almost mechanically.

“Uh, hi,” she said, faking a smile badly.

“Just a few more dishes have to be served, then you can all eat.”

“You’re not eating, sir?” Reba asked.

“I already ate earlier tonight. This food is all for you,” he said.

Of course, she thought; It’s all drugged. She held her tongue, though, for fear that revealing what she knew about his schemes, she’d be putting herself in danger.

A naked servant came into the dining room and put a plate of roast lamb on the table; Reba’s eyes almost popped out of her head to see the fair-skinned nakedness of the servant, a girl of about 21 or 22 years of age, with a now predictably drug-induced smile, and hair dyed crimson red. She had heavy makeup on that seemed to disguise her identity; all the same, Reba thought she looked vaguely familiar.

Strangely, the other girls weren’t at all shocked to see this beautiful naked servant, who had a curvy body, almost pale skin, large breasts, and a shaved pussy. Reba assumed the other girls were all too stoned to care. Everyone began eating; everyone, that is, except Reba.

“Reba?” he asked. “Aren’t you hungry?”

Afraid there would be consequences if she rudely refused to eat, and still feeling strangely compelled to pick up her knife and fork, she slowly began to eat with the others.

I can fight a high, she thought as she cautiously chewed. I can control myself when stoned; I’ve done it before, I can do it again. I can fight even the most intense highs. I’ll pretend to be one of his girls, to know what he’s up to, but I’ll never really be one of them. He’ll never…get into my…head. Tomorrow, I’ll involve…the police…

After dinner, everyone went into his large guest room. The naked servant gave each girl a glass of wine from a tray. Everyone drank, including an increasingly weak-willed Reba. The high was now even more potent. Only Mr. Broder wasn’t high, of course.

Fight the high, she thought in her wooziness. Fight…it…

“OK,” he announced from his chair at the end of the room opposite the girls. “Who would like to please me first?”

All the girls, even Reba, raised their hands and shouted enthusiastically to have the honour of being the first one. Broder chose one particularly loud girl, a busty brunette. She quickly went up to stand before him at his chair.

“Tiffany,” he said. “Let’s see that beautiful body of yours.”

Giggling, she began to undress. Off went her white uniform blouse and miniskirt to reveal her white bra and panties. She blushed a bit, but the high of the drug–causing her and all the other girls to see bright, vivid colours, ‘breathing’ walls and furniture, and geometrical patterns on everything–had put her in such a blissful, nirvanic state that she’d happily do anything for her beloved and loving teacher.

She removed her black dress shoes and knee-high socks, then timidly unclipped her bra, showing off her large, delicious tits. The bra fell to the floor, then she slid out of her panties to reveal her freshly-shaved pubic region. With the panties draping her ankles, she pulled her bare feet through the leg-holes and kicked her underwear aside. She was now standing completely naked before everyone.

“Good,” he said, looking up and down at her tanned body, as were all the other girls. “You shaved off that excessive pubic hair, as I’d asked you to do.”

“Yes, sir,” she said, looking down at herself and back up at him with anxious eyes. “I wanted to please you: do you like this better?”

“Yes,” he said. “Much better, so far. But did you shave all the hair off, including what surrounded your vulva and anus?”

“Yes, sir. Tanya helped me.” Tanya, a redhead standing at the back, nodded in agreement.

“Turn around and bend over, sweetheart. Let me see. Spread your legs out wide.”

She obeyed him without hesitation. Looking back at him upside-down from between her wide-open legs, she was even more anxious about whether he liked what he saw or not. He put his hands on her buttocks and pushed them out wide, opening her vagina and anus to get a better look. There wasn’t an unshaven pubic hair to be seen anywhere on her.

He smiled in approval; she sighed with relief.

“Sit on my lap, sweetie,” he said gently. She did. “I remember how you cried a week ago after knowing that I didn’t like all that hair. But it’s all better now, isn’t it?” He smiled and cuddled with her.

“Yes, sir,” she giggled, thrilled that he was pleased, and that she could feel his bulging erection poking through his pants under her behind, proving that he meant what he said.

“Do you feel how happy you’ve made him?” he asked.

“Yes, sir,” she giggled. A tear ran down her cheek. “He’s very happy down there.”

“Why don’t you get up, sweetie, turn around, bend over and spread your legs so all the girls can see how beautiful you are? Go on, don’t be shy: this is your moment of pride.”

“OK.” Grinning, she she stood up, turned around, bent over, and showed all the girls her pussy and asshole, as she’d shown him.

“Doesn’t she look beautiful naked, girls?” he asked them.

“Yes,” the girls sighed.

“Doesn’t she make you all want to make love with her?” he asked.

“Yes,” the girls moaned in lesbian unison.

“You all enjoy lesbian sex with each other, don’t you?”

“Yes,” they said, including Reba, amazingly.

Indeed, all the girls, even Reba, gazed on Tiffany’s holes with admiration, though in the back of Reba’s mind, she couldn’t understand why she wasn’t grossed out by Tiffany’s immodest display. Reba, as did the other girls, even felt lesbian cravings for Tiffany. Did Broder’s mere words have that much power over them?

Are Broder’s drugs making me horny for girls? Reba thought. He must have drugged me last night at ‘Holly’s': why else would I, even when stoned on just ecstasy and pot, have allowed him to feel me up? That’s how he made me come! I would never have come had he fingered me without drugging me. I see the other girls are salivating and licking their lips at the sight of Tiffany’s body; it’s obviously his drugs in our food that’s making them do that. He must have been feeding the other girls in our class his dope cookies: I’m one of his newest recruits. I’ve got to fight this high…fight this high…

“OK, Tiffany,” he said. “That will be all for now. You can go upstairs to my bedroom and wait for us. Masturbate while you’re waiting, and when the other girls join you up there, one by one, make love with them till I arrive.”

“Yes, sir,” she said, then straightened up. He gently spanked her on the behind as she walked away, making her giggle with excitement.

“Who will be next?” he asked.

“Me! Me!” all the girls shouted, even Reba, though she was less enthusiastic. Her efforts at resistance were giving her worse and worse migraines.

“Jenny,” he said, calling the buxom blonde who rang the doorbell when the girls arrived. “I’ll see your body now.”

Jenny hurried over to him and immediately began undressing, swaying her hips and smiling like Salome as she unbuttoned her uniform blouse.

“I like your attitude, Jenny,” he said, his grin mirroring hers. “You like to get naked for me, don’t you?”

“Yes, I do,” she said with a lewd smirk and a giggle.

The blouse came off, displaying a light blue lace brassiere, ornately designed with flowery patterns. It jealously cupped her large breasts like selfish, possessive hands. Her undone skirt fell to the floor, revealing her panties.

She turned around and pointed her pantied ass at his face, wiggling her bum as she took off her shoes and socks. He patted her on the bum; she giggled in response.

Now barefoot, she straightened up, turned around and unclipped her bra, pulling it off with a proud wiggle of her tits and a wide grin.

“What a pair of beauties!” he groaned.

Giggling with flattery, she pulled down her panties and stood naked before everyone, her brown pubic hair neatly trimmed for his viewing pleasure.

“OK, turn around, bend over and spread ‘em, as Tiffany did,” he said. “I need to check your holes.”

Jenny quickly did as she was told, enthusiastic about showing off to him. She held her buttocks wide open, looking back at him for the approving reaction she was confident she’d get.

“Good,” he said as he checked her candy cunt and caramel asshole, sliding his fingers in and out of both holes. “Nice and clean. Now, straighten up and let all the girls see.”

She did, and all the girls moaned and sighed in lecherous lesbian approval. Though Reba felt it too, she still couldn’t understand how his drugs could have so powerful an influence on girls who’d always been vehemently homophobic, including herself. Indeed, the only reason she tolerated Connie ogling her at ‘Holly’s’ was to get lap-dance money from her. Now, Reba sensed she would be licking pussy later on, willy-nilly, and even liking it.

Speaking of pussy-licking, Jenny then hurried upstairs to the bedroom to do just that with Tiffany. Next to undress was a short, petite brunette named Sandra.

As she began unbuttoning her blouse, Sandra had a bright grin and a twinkle in her eye as she asked Broder, “Sir, I’m having my period now: will it be anal tonight, or oral?”

“Decisions, decisions,” he said with a lecherous smirk as her blouse came off, revealing a light green bra that covered her tiny tits. “You have such a cute face, baby; and those sweet lips would feel heavenly as they caressed my phallus. But I’ll have to see what your anus looks like first, before I can choose wisely.”

“OK,” she said. In only her bra and panties now, she was taking off her shoes and socks. She quickly got out of her underwear and turned around, fearing that he wouldn’t like her practically flat chest. She spread her legs, pushed her butt out, and bent over so he could see her puckered asshole, which looked back at him, wanting a kiss. She looked back at him anxiously from around her right shoulder as he opened her dark brown anus and fingered it. “Do you like it, sir?”

Admiring the ring’s puckered wrinkles, he said, “Yes, I will enjoy going inside there.”

“Thank you, sir,” she said, giggling.

“Run upstairs and join the others.” She did.

He checked all the other girls in the same way before sending each one naked up to his bedroom to join the growing lesbian orgy. The next girl was the redhead Tanya. Then there was a black girl, then three white girls (brunettes), then two Asian girls, then a blonde girl, and finally, an hour after dinner was finished, Reba, who by now resigned herself to what she would soon do, though always keeping in mind her intention of informing the police the next day, once she’d finally come down from the high. Always fighting it, she tried to keep some residual sense of conscious awareness.

Up in the bedroom, she saw all the naked girls in pairs, in 69 positions, except the blonde girl who preceded her: she was was on all fours with her ass pointed to the door, licking the pussy of one of the Asian girls. That Asian was lying on her back on the floor, while the other Asian was sitting on her face, getting eaten out. The blonde’s pussy and asshole were on display, ready for Reba’s lips and tongue to explore; and while that residually aware part of her mind was screaming, ‘Eww! No, I’m not a lesbian!’, the stoned remainder of her brain felt drawn to those two holes…

As soon as the blonde felt Reba’s half-willing tongue taste her labia, she moaned with pleasure and pulled away from the Asian–who resumed a 69 with the other Asian–and got into a 69 of her own with Reba. Reba lay on her back on the floor, with the blonde’s ass in her face.

Ten minutes later, Mr. Broder came into the room, wearing a bathrobe. Having taken some Viagra, he had his dick perpendicular to his standing body. He surveyed the room of lesbian pairings and smiled.

Tanya was on the floor, with Tiffany’s ass in her face; Tanya was sliding her finger in and out of Tiffany’s cunt while licking her pretty brown asshole. Broder coveted that asshole, and envied Tanya’s tongue. Then he looked over at Sandra and Jenny: Sandra lay on the floor, licking Jenny’s pussy and fingering her asshole.

“Did you ever have to make up your mind?” he sang to himself as he looked back and forth among that quartet of quims. After a minute or two of consideration, he chose Tiffany and Sandra, and took them from Tanya and Jenny, who now got together in a new 69 position.

Sandra got on all fours, and Broder got on top of her, opening his robe and aiming his cock at her ass. Tiffany, taller than Sandra, got over her, putting her long legs on either side of Sandra’s tiny body. Tiffany bent over, cupping Sandra’s tiny breasts in her hands and gently kissing her neck, while Broder took a tube of anal lube from his bathrobe pocket and lubricated Sandra’s asshole and his cock, then slid it in, slowly and carefully. As he fucked her ass, he licked Tiffany’s asshole and pussy.

“But sir,” Tiffany sighed as she felt his tongue vibrate against the wrinkles of her anus. “That’s where the poo comes out.” She then giggled.

“That’s right, sweetheart,” he said. “And I want to worship it, because it’s way too pretty for poo.”

She giggled again, and resumed kissing Sandra’s neck.

His tongue slithered all over both of Tiffany’s holes, tickling the wrinkles on her asshole and flickering against her labia. His lips hugged each labium alternately, then put his head between her legs and sucked on her hard clitoris. He licked up the growing moisture dripping from her vagina.

His cock, sliding in and out of Sandra’s tight virgin anus, throbbed with pleasure from that squeezing anal ring. She, too stoned to sense any pain, was convinced that the sensation of her gaping ass could only feel exhilarating.

Reba couldn’t believe she was actually eating out one of her classmates. Her tongue slid all over the blonde’s vulva, flickering against the hard clitoris. Sometimes she sucked on that pretty pink pebble, at other times she sucked on each of the labia alternately. What especially surprised her was when she licked and kissed the girl’s asshole.

Eww! the residually aware part of her thought. I’m actually tasting where this girl shits! I’m gonna catch some terrible disease, I’m sure. Yet, I’m getting horny! I actually like doing this. Why? This is so weird! Am I dreaming? I hope so: please, Reba, wake up fast, so I can puke in my toilet at home!

After a few more minutes of fucking Sandra’s ass and licking Tiffany, Broder opted for a change in girls. He pulled his cock out of Sandra’s ass, and had those girls eat each other while he looked over at Jenny and Tanya.

“Tanya? Jenny?” he called over to them. “Come here, girls: I’d like to enjoy you both now.”

“Yes, sir,” both girls said simultaneously, then got up and went over to him. Jenny lay on her back on the floor, and he put his cock between her soft, large breasts. Tanya stood in front of him, opening her legs and using her hands to spread her pussy lips for his tongue and lips. Jenny wrapped her tits around his cock as tightly as she could, and he slid his cock back and forth on her chest, delighting in the sensation of her breasts’ cushiony softness. His tongue danced on Tanya’s clitoris, and she sighed and squealed with excitement.

I don’t…want to let…him fuck me, thought Reba as she continued licking the blonde’s pink pussy and brown asshole. I must…regain my…self-control…

After a few minutes of fucking Jenny’s tits, Broder stood up and told Tanya to lie on the floor, with Jenny squatting over her face. As Tanya licked Jenny’s pussy and asshole, Jenny took his cock in her mouth. She kissed, licked, and sucked on his cock with a lascivious twinkle in her eyes as she looked up at him.

Moaning from the sweet feeling of Tanya’s sizzling tongue, Jenny rocked her head back and forth on his cock faster and faster, and held his balls in her hand, gently shaking them and ticking his scrotum with her fingertips. She always looked up into his eyes, her face telling him how much she enjoyed her sweet submission to his will.

When he was about to come, he pulled his cock out of her mouth, then rained his come all over her nose, her right eye, her left cheek, her lips, and her tongue. Always moaning from the licking she was getting from Tanya, Jenny looked up at her master and smiled as his come dripped down her face.

He didn’t need to wait long for the Viagra to make his cock hard again, and he got down on top of Tanya, sliding his hard-on inside her delicious ginger pussy. Jenny left the room to wash her face in the bathroom.

The blonde licking Reba’s pussy was getting her so hot that she had difficulty concentrating on regaining her will. Her labia were swollen with pleasure, her clit was rock-hard, and her vagina felt like a phial full of liquid. She was within a minute of coming.

She was, in spite of herself, frantically and enthusiastically licking the blonde’s pussy, her tongue paying no attention to how sore it felt from exhaustion. She was sliding her finger deep inside the blonde’s asshole, and was as surprised with the lack of shit on her finger as she was with the very fact that she had her finger in there.

He must…tell these girls…to clean themselves…thoroughly, she thought as she kept on tirelessly licking, her tongue seeming to have a mind of its own.

Finally, she orgasmed, screaming out loud; the blonde greedily lapped up her ooze. Then the blonde ejaculated a few seconds later, her come splashing all over Reba’s face like a few squirts from a hose.

Gross! Reba thought, though the doped-up part of her mind liked it. The blonde got off of Reba and saw that the black girl was available for sex. As those two girls got together, Reba got up and went straight for the bedroom door, in search of the bathroom.

In the hall on the way to the bathroom, Reba saw Jenny returning. She put her arms around Reba and bent down to suck on her tits. When she got her lips around Reba’s left nipple, Reba sighed briefly from the pleasure of that expert mouth. Still, she wanted to wash the come off her face, her slowed-down reaction time from the drugs delaying her stopping of sucking Jenny.

“Sorry, Jenny,” she sighed. “I gotta wash…this come off…my face. I’ll join you…in there…in a minute, OK?”

“OK,” Jenny said, then straightened up and returned to the bedroom.

Reba quickly found the bathroom, went in, and cleaned her face. When she went back out into the hall, she thought, Sorry, Jenny, I’m not doing any more dyke stuff tonight. Because of her headache-inducing resistance to Broder’s drugs, she felt herself regaining some control of her mind; and so instead of returning to the bedroom, she started to look around the rest of the house. She went downstairs, confident that Broder hadn’t noticed her absence. She soon found the entrance to the basement, and went down the stairs.

By the foot of the stairs, she saw a large table littered with chemistry implements, all the things one would have to synthesize drugs. There were pills in plastic containers, powders, and liquids in phials.

“I knew it,” she whispered in slurred syllables. “My chemistry teacher…is a real chemist, he’s making dope. He sure practices…what he teaches.”

She noticed a door at the far end of the room, but instead of satisfying her curiosity, she decided to go back up to the living room, find her clothes, get dressed and sneak out of the house before he noticed her missing.

When she got back up to the ground floor, she noticed it was much quieter than before: no more of the moaning, squealing, or sighs of sex. With the way that the drugs seemed to slow down time, she figured she must have been tripping out in the basement much longer than she thought she had.

All the lights were off, too; even the upstairs hallway light, which had been on when she went to the bathroom to wash her face, was now off. She approached the stairs to listen, faintly making out whispering and snoring sounds.

I’ll get my clothes in a minute, she thought; I wanna know what’s going on up there.

Her eyes barely adjusting to the dark, she slowly crept up the stairs, hoping Broder hadn’t noticed she was missing. When she got to his bedroom, she found no one in it, not even him sleeping in his bed. Those whispering voices were more distinct now: they all sounded like his voice, but many voices whispering at the same time.

Is it the drugs making me think he’s speaking with three or four voices? she thought. The source of the voices were coming from other rooms on the second floor. She crept over to one of them and slowly opened it as quietly as she could.

She saw six of the girls lying fast asleep, and though she heard his voice, she didn’t see him anywhere in the room. She looked around, and correctly surmised that a recording of his voice was saying things for the girls to hear while they were sleeping.

“You love me, and I love you,” his voice said softly from speakers on a wall by the girls’ heads. “You’ll happily do anything I want, for what I want is to love you and make you happy. Sex with me is sheer bliss, the highest happiness. Any kind of sex–oral, anal, or vaginal–will thrill you as much as it thrills me. You always enjoy sex with me, and with each other, right up to orgasm. You’re always willing to share me with each other: there’s no jealousy here. You always feel good with me. You enjoy showing your beautiful bodies to me and to each other, even showing your secret places…especially your secret places!”

You sick bastard, she thought. Still trying to fight off the effects of the drugs, she was making more progress. You poor girls, she thought, exploited by this creep, and you don’t even know it; and I almost became one of you.

She closed the door carefully so as not to make a noise, then looked around the hall for any sign of Broder. Her eyes were better adjusted to the darkness, and luckily, she didn’t see his silhouette anywhere. Still, fear crept into her mind: if he wasn’t in bed sleeping, as the girls were, where was he? Did he know she was creeping about? If he did, why hadn’t he caught her yet? Was he toying with her? Did he want to play games of psychological terror with her, to scare her with suspense before catching her? She had no idea where he was, or what he was doing.

She did, however, hear his voice coming from at least two other rooms. She crept over to the room next to the one she’d just looked into. She put her head to the door and listened: another recording, she correctly assumed, of his voice was giving the five remaining girls their ‘instructions’ for the next day.

“You will forget everything we did here tonight,” the voice said. “You’ll forget my servant. As soon as you leave my home, you’ll forget everything. Just as with every visit you’ve made here before, you’ll tell your parents you were sleeping over at a friend’s house. You’ll drug your parents’ food tomorrow night with pills I’ll give you, and while your moms and dads are high, you’ll tell them to accept your ‘sleeping over story’ as true, believing it yourselves, for you won’t be conscious of the story as a lie. This way, no one will be suspicious; after all, your parents would never understand our love for each other.”

Bastard, she thought. She went over to a third bedroom and slowly opened the door. The naked servant slept there, and Broder’s recorded voice was telling the servant never to leave his house or to be curious about the outside. “Remember,” his voice said. “Bugs, bugs are everywhere out there, waiting to crawl all over your body and eat you alive. No one outside must see you, for they’ll drag your naked body out to be exposed to the bugs. No one will sympathize with you: only I can protect you. Only I truly love you.”

He’s keeping her…for a slave! Reba thought. Then, in her still half stupor, she remembered that she still hadn’t seen him anywhere up there! If those whispering voices were all recordings, then he certainly wasn’t even in the second room, where she hadn’t looked in. He wasn’t in his bedroom. He was still up and about, as Reba was.

He must know I’m missing, she thought. Surely he would have noticed that I wasn’t sleeping with the other girls. I’m his newest catch: he’d be most mindful of me. But where is he?

Suddenly the bathroom toilet was flushed. Assuming it was him in the bathroom, she hurried over to the stairs, hoping not to bump into anything in the enveloping darkness. She hurried down the stairs, getting enough light from the living room windows that she didn’t slip and fall.

Feeling her way into the living room, she tried to find her uniform on the floor. Her feet felt piles of clothes, but in the dark it was impossible to find hers. She didn’t dare turn on a light for fear of him knowing she was there. She picked up a pile of clothes and brought them to the window, hoping to be able to find hers in the dim light shining in from outside.

She brought pile after pile of clothes to the window, not wanting to exclude any, but always careful not to bring her body to the light. At one point, though, she hit her shin against a coffee table with a loud thud.

“Oww!” she grunted, then froze in terror: did he hear her?

Frantically, she fished through the piles of clothes to find her bra and panties. Everything looked about the same, though, not just the uniforms, but the dark socks, too, and it was hard to differentiate the colours of the underwear in the dim light. In spite of her euphoric high, she wanted to sob in despair.

She heard a creaking noise, not made by her. She froze again: he must have known she was there! She was in a dark corner, away from the window, so her body wouldn’t be seen even though she could see the clothes there. But he had to have noticed the shuffling of the clothes.

She gave up on the foolish and frustrating task of trying to find her own clothes, and instead simply opted to steal another girl’s, put them on, and get out fast. So she randomly grabbed a pair of panties, and was about to put them on when she felt a hand holding a wet, drugged cloth pushed against her face. The cloth smelled of medicine: another hand held her torso firmly against the torso behind her; she squealed muffled screams, and tried to kick and fight her way free, but the drug worked fast, and she was unconscious within seconds…

She woke up, still naked, gagged, and tied to a chair in a dark, dungeon-like room. She seemed to be in the basement again, but the table with the drugs wasn’t there.

Broder, still in his bathrobe, and his Viagra erection poking a comical bulge out front, had a needle in his hand, getting it ready to give her a shot.

She was still a little woozy from the drugs of dinner, but she was conscious enough to know she was in terrible danger. She squealed unintelligibly for help, and fidgeted in her chair, which was bolted to the floor. He poked the needle in her arm and gave her the shot. It took effect within seconds, sedating her to the point of total disorientation.

She felt as though time were slowing down even more than from the original high. She vaguely felt herself being untied and made to stand up and walk into another room. The darkness now seemed exaggerated, like an infinite void: except for a dim glow of light directly ahead of her, like a thin rectangle going straight up and down, all was pitch black around her. In her stupor, she wasn’t sure if she was dreaming or awake. She seemed to be lying on her back on a wooden plank, with wooden planks close on either side of her.

“W-where am I?” she asked in slurred words.

“You’re with me,” Broder said. “You were a naughty girl, wandering off like that and finding my lab.”

“Y-you’re the…bad one,” she slurred. “Rapist.”

“Rapist?” he said. “Nonsense. The girls loved the sex. So did you.”

“You drugged us. Bastard. There was…no consent.”

“There’s age of consent. You’re all eighteen years old. I know: I checked all your school records. In fact, all the boys and girls in grade twelve in our school had turned eighteen as of last month, by a lucky fluke. Rest assured, there’s no statutory rape going on in this house.” He put a laptop computer in front of her, ready to turn it on and show her a video of something.

“It’s rape, even if…we’re old enough. You drugged us!”

“Maybe in drugging you, I helped you find your real selves,” he rationalized, turning on the computer. “I connected you girls with Brahman, the World Spirit of which we’re each a part. My drug synthesis combines elements of ecstasy, LSD, mescalin, aphrodisiacs, and a host of other things in a most original combination of mine. It lubricates your vaginas and anal areas, and gives you clitoral erections. It also gives you the highest happiness, a truly mystical experience. All I did was to make you girls feel good. What’s wrong with that? In your nirvanic bliss, nothing matters: everything’s allowed, even sex.”

“Bullshit!” she shouted. “You’re scum, Mr. Broder.”

“Broder? That’s not my real name. I’m just plain old John Dickey from Nebraska. I tried giving my pretty female students in a high school there the same mind-altering experience, but I got caught, and had to flee the US. I settled here and changed by name to Bing Broder–I like Bing Crosby’s music, and I chose a Jewish surname as part of a phoney life history, that of a Jewish convert to Catholicism, to throw the American police off the scent.”

“They’ll catch you.”

“No, they won’t.” He clicked on an icon to get a video for Reba to watch. He had it on pause, ready to play.

“They’ll catch you…I’ll tell…you won’t keep me here…I’ve fought…off your drugs…I can fight…off anything…I’ll fight off…anything else…you give me.”

“You won’t fight off this,” he said, then clicked PLAY. The video began.

Reba tried to focus to recognize the naked, screaming, sobbing girl on the computer screen. She had brown hair, large breasts, wispy brown pubic hair, and a slightly tanned body.

“Remember her?” he asked.

“Is that…?” Reba began, her eyes widening and her hair, as it were, standing on end when she knew who.

“Yes,” he said. “Winnie Smits. This was filmed about three years ago, right on the night she–18 and about to graduate, as you girls here all are–went missing. I’m afraid the same will have to happen to you, my dear.”

“You won’t…get away…with this.”

“Yes, I will. When I’m done twisting your mind, you’ll want me to. You see, I can’t let you leave this house; it’s too dangerous–after all, you know too much, as Winnie does.”

In the video, weeping Winnie kept quickly, frantically kicking, fidgeting, and brushing her hands on her arms, breasts, and body, as if trying to get something off her nakedness, though nothing was actually there.

“She was as heavily drugged as you are,” he explained. “She once told me her deepest fear, insects. I always ask my girls what their deepest fears are, in case any of them, like you and Winnie, try to resist my pleasure-inducing drugs. If pleasure won’t make you compliant, I’m then forced to resort to fear.

“Extreme states of euphoria and terror can make the mind more susceptible to manipulation, as Aldous Huxley explained in the revisiting of his dystopian novel. I’m sure your English teacher, Ms. Kiss, explained all that in detail in one of your classes, though you probably weren’t listening at the time.

“My drugs can do both: induce fear and bliss. You and Winnie resisted the bliss; you won’t be able to resist the fear. She couldn’t, as you can see. She was convinced by my drugs that armies of cockroaches and fire ants and crawling all over her body, biting her.”

“I’ll resist,” Reba said weakly, shivering in horror all the same.

“We’ll see,” he said; then Reba saw him close a door, or wooden plank, over that dimly glowing rectangular light that had been in front of her. Now, all was infinitely black around her. She heard hammering noises, the sound of nails being driven in the wood by her head, then by either side of her torso, then by her feet. After that, she heard the sound of dirt being thrown on the wood in front of her, some of it slipping through the cracks and dropping on her face and body. Was she being buried alive?

“Help!” she screamed. “Please! No!” She banged her fists and kicked at the wooden plank before her, but she was far too weak to break even the slightest hole in the wood.

“Will you comply?” he asked. She no longer heard dirt hitting the wood.

“Yes! I’ll be good! You’ll see! I’ll be one…of your girls! I’ll let you…fuck me…whenever you want! Just don’t…bury me alive!” She said this, though in her mind, she would still try to resist his drugs…once he got her out and when her fear subsided, of course.

“How can I be sure you won’t resist in the future?”

“How can I…prove I’ll keep…my promise?”

“Repeat after me: I will stay in Mr. Broder’s house.”

Almost unconsciously, she said, “I will stay…in Mr. Broder’s house.”

“I will never leave this house,” he said.

“I will never…leave this house.”

“If I leave, the bad guy will bury me alive, and leave me to die.”

“If I leave, the bad guy…will bury me alive, and leave me…to die.”

They repeated this two more times, then Broder had her say, “I love Mr. Broder.”

“I love…Mr. Broder.”

“I love Mr. Broder,” he said again.

“I love…Mr. Broder.”

“I love Mr. Broder.”

“I love…Mr. Broder,” she repeated one more time.

“He loves me,” he said.

“He loves me.”

“He loves me.”

“He loves me.”

“He loves me,” he said one more time.

“He loves me.”

“I will do whatever he wants me to do, happily and willingly.”

“I will do…whatever he wants…me to do, happily and…willingly.”

They said this two more times as well. The wooden plank in front of her was then taken off, and she came out of the coffin, which was actually standing up straight, the foot of it bolted to the floor, in the middle of another dark room in his basement.

She came out in his arms, bawling and shaking in terror. He held her shaking naked body, stroking her hair gently and kissing her on the cheek. She felt his erection poking through his bathrobe against her stomach; she enjoyed the feeling.

“There there, baby,” he said soothingly. “It’s all over. I saved you.”

“Y-you did?” she asked in sobs, confused in her stupor and disorientation as to what had actually just happened.

“Yes. A bad guy tried to kill you, but I stopped him, because I love you.”

“You do?”

“Yes, of course I do.” He kissed her teary cheek. “But the bad man is outside this house, waiting to get you, so you mustn’t go outside, OK?”


“Let’s make love, sweetie.”

“Yes, sir,” she said, grinning up at him in ecstasy.

He led her out of the basement, up two flights of stairs, and into a spare bedroom on the third floor of the house, out of earshot of the sleeping girls on the second floor. They were still having recorded messages of his voice telling them what they had to do the next day, and during future visits.

Now that Reba’s terror had subsided, she tried to regain a sense of orientation. There was something she had to do…what? He lay on the bed on his back, pulling his bathrobe open a little to expose his full erection.

Though part of her was disgusted at the sight of her middle-aged teacher’s cock, the influence of the drugs made it impossible to resist him physically; furthermore, a large part of her mind eagerly, inexplicably wanted that hot rod pumping in her already soaking wet pussy! She got on the bed, and slowly sat on his cock.

The cold breeze of winters chill was beginning to lift, dark skies were now dispersing and the icy-grasp of freezing winter was melting. Crystalline icicles formed dancing patterns and gleamed a cold silvery-blue. The landscape was covered in a small blanket of now- melting snow, which illuminated the horizon. Mornings arrived earlier, and the entrance of the Sun was met with a chorus of finches and Blue birds. For once in an age, the woods started to grow the odd leaf or two. Flowers which had remained dead and in a state of decay had half blossomed to give the world a sign of a new dawn.

Perched atop a reviving oak, I observed my surroundings, absorbing every detail and spec of information. The world was looking better after a harsh winter. Thoughts flooded back to me of ‘the good days’ when I played with mum, when I was very little or causing mayhem with siblings while annoying the neighbours. Those were the stories that stayed with me, that meant something, even though I had no clue why.

My thoughts faded and I came back in the real world. Being on look-out duty was a long and easy job, especially in winter. The infected were beginning to starve; they were being weakened with lack of food and habitable conditions. Few were ever sighted now, the numbers of infected had decreased greatly throughout the winter.

I was having a spot or two of target practice, every now and then a couple of infected would attempt an attack. Each one was shot in the head, only to leave a rotting body and a greeny-blue puss puddle. After being on look out duty for six hours, I grew cold and weary. Darkness was creeping back into the shadows of the world. Winter was still clinging on, but it had almost perished.

I dismounted the old oak with a jump and a thud only to hear a disgruntled moan. Looking around, I found it came from a lying body, still alive. The body was severed in to two pieces, legs, and the lower torso. The infected body dragged its hands to haul its body towards me. Before he engaged to touch me I sliced his head to leave a still corpse oozing with the liquids of hell. I set off to then find the arrows I had fired, each one covered in a decaying filth of puss and ooze.

Entering the bunker, I saw Maria; she was now a trained fighter and killer. Over the winter we had established a number of training exercises and routines and now she was nothing short deadly. Her blade skills had improved dramatically, but most of all, it was her strength. Now she beautifully, no, she was perfectly toned in muscle. Her statuesque figure gave her strong figure and seductive curves.

She was just fixing herself in a mirror. She brushed her hand through her blonde hair, and it gleamed like a water-fall of liquid gold.

Only just able to rip away my sight from her, I focused on the bunker. The bunker itself looked more tidy yet trashy. It was a clean place yet littered with useless objects and canned food, sort of an apocalypse version of teenagers’ apartment. Maria then glanced up and saw my reflection.

“You look tired.” She exclaimed, her voice so sweet and gentle.

“Don’t know the half of it.” I moaned. “What’s there to eat?” I asked.

“Not much, just, old canned veg.” Maria said disappointedly.

“I’ll give that a pass.” I commented depressingly.

She slowly walked up to me with a smile. I admired every aspect of her. She had alluring, elegant, serene eyes which twinkled like crystals. Her face was faultless and her body without imperfections. I placed my hands around her lower back and slid them down to her ass slowly and gently.

“Look, you’ve been on look-out duty for the past six hours,” she complained, “and I think you deserve a treat.” She whispered seductively with a twinkle in her eye.

Our relationship had grown so much since we had first met. I was always a dark and gloomy figure but being with Maria had made me to be a more positive person. Actually it was Maria that made me happy, before, I was alone, but with her I felt as if I had a partner, someone to watch my back and take care of me when I needed it most. She had become much stronger, physically and mentally, her scared and weak traits had now been replaced with attributes of fearlessness, and I absolutely loved her.

She then gently pushed me down onto the mattress behind and then walked a few paces back. She wore nothing but skin-tight blue jeans and a white tank-top. Slowly she moved her hands around her body to remove her top. She slowly pulled off her top to reveal her breasts and they ached impatiently in her pink, thin, lacy bra. She hip-swung a hundred-and-eight degrees around and bent over to touch to the ground. Her ass looked as if it wanted to burst free from her jeans, as she shook her body to another hip-swing as her ass cheeks bounced up and down. She then brought her arm up and slapped her ass cheek to set off a ‘snap’ sound.

Maria then turned to face me again and did so with a wicked grin; her blonde hair flew over her face with a flick of her head. Her hands caressed her breasts as she undid her bra-strap and after a click, it fell off. Bare, voluptuous, perky tits then emerged and popped out free. Her rosy, diamond tipped areolas stood fully erect. She slowly squeezed and fondled her tits and then moved to her jeans.

She undid her button and zip and slipped out of jeans to reveal a very tight, black thong. She turned away from me again and bent over herself to show off her ass. Her long, elegant legs stood firm, and her ass pointed out beautifully. Curved and rounded, it was still firm, tight and perfect. Sexually, it was the greatest part of her.

She strode up to me and sat on my lap. She never kissed me, but placed her mouth only inches from mine. Slowly, like she did hers, pulled off my shirt, and unbuttoned my jeans. Her scent was like roses, so sweet, so crisp, and so intoxicating. I leaned into kiss her lower lip, just like other times, her lips were as smooth as silk and as sweet as cherries. Eventually, I fully removed my jeans and boxers. She then placed my hands on to her breasts, slowly and gently I kneaded and caressed them. Slowly I worked my way down; first I kissed her long, elegant neck. I then laid her down fully on to the mattress and kissed her nipples, now redder and harder. Maria then shivered and jumped, her breathing now became faster and shorter. I then went further and fitted as much of her breast as I could in my mouth. I kneaded her other breast harder and faster as well.

After a Sensuous massage of her breasts, I went up and kissed Maria again, this time my hand wondered further down. The front of her thong was soaking wet, I moved my fingers slowly up and down, and then gently massaged her pussy from outside her pants.

Maria than moaned “Ahh, it feels so goo-”

She was cut off. Heavy footsteps pounded the ground above. Continuous echoes of disturbing whines and grunts bellowed through the bunker.

“Look through the eye-piece.” Maria suggested.

During the winter, we had installed an intricate, small mirror system which ran from the bunker door up the old oak. It gave a perfect three- hundred-and-sixty degree view of the area. After placing on my clothes I ran to lens. The view that I got was that of absolute horror. I stared in shock and anger.

“What is it Roman?” Maria asked, “Roman?!” She repeated, sounding worried.

“You might want to take a look for your self.” I said quietly.

Moving aside, Maria gave me her hand and I pulled her up, then angled her to face the correct mirror. Her face also went blank but her expression gave her a look of fascination as well as shock.

Hordes of infected roamed the wood, large, stocked and evolved. They weren’t the same, they had changed. Two, three metre arms jutted out from the sides of the body, with completely blood-stained skin, at the end of the arms metre long talons, easily capable of ripping a tree in one swing. Their height also justified their dominance, most now stood above seven feet and some towered over those. Four serrated pincers now jutted out instead mouths. These were not just zombies or even infected, they were mutations. The virus was starting to adapt and evolve in nature.

These new creatures were, however, not the reason Maria and I looked shell-shocked. In the centre of the hordes of mutations, towered a staunch and stocky figure, covered in a cloak and had a face concealed in a black hood. He stood no less than twelve feet in height and was as wide as two huge men abreast. In his right hand he wielded a large battle-axe, the handle was black metal as long as four feet, the black iron head of the axe looked about ten inches thick and long. In his left hand he carried a large brown sack. This was new.

I turned to look at Maria. She glared back at me in silence. After getting both fully dressed we stocked and readied our weapons. All my blades fully sheathed, hung of my belt. All knives were strapped in each pocket. The glaive set in its own pouch. And bow and arrow were at the ready. Maria had also scavenged weapons over the winter season, she carried light, but was as swift and deadly as me now with just one blade.

“What are they?” She asked, this time with less fear and even more fascination.

“I don’t know, possibly mutations of the virus,” I replied simply.

“Ok, then what the hell is that big mother-fucker?” She retorted.

“Again, maybe a mutation, perhaps something more. I said bluntly, “But don’t you get it?” I asked, “The virus is evolving in nature!”

“SO?!” She shouted.

“So, if the virus can mutate and evolve in nature to make them more deadly, nature could maybe mutate the virus to be destroyed!” I explained.

Maria then nodded her head. “Well then, if there is a cure, we have to find it after we build our settlement, but first, I think we have a few neighbours that we have to welcome.”

I had loved how Maria had changed. When I first found her she was just a scared girl, now she was no less than a warrior.

“I love you,” She said sweetly to me.

“I love you too,” I replied. I held her hand and drew her close to kiss her, “But after we’ve greeted the neighbours, I think I want to see you without your pants on.”

“Mmm, can’t wait.” She replied sweetly and seductively.

Unlocking the padlocked door, we burst out the bunker and rampaged the hordes of infected and mutations. Swarms of enemies turned and looked at the onslaught caused by two humans. They all turned into full rage mode and screams were echoed throughout the forest. Within minutes no less than a hundred mutant creatures had been carved open. Bodies littered the wood, more mutant creatures advanced, I easily dispatched a group of six mutants by severing their heads with one throw of the glaive, and their heads met the ground with a ‘thud.’

Maria was in a chaotic blood-lust. She sliced and carved any foul creature that came near to her. A band of six mutants approached her, with a neat swing of her blade she decapitated three. One almost caught her with a talon but she ducked and stabbed the beast in the eye. The other two were killed by two throwing knives being lodged in their necks. Killing these beasts was now the main priority of human life, that, and survival. We both continued to fight, each creature was getting even more difficult to kill as our strength waned. Bodies of the now-fully-dead littered the landscape. I could see Maria was also starting to tire, her breathing was quickened and her movements became limper. These creatures were nothing like the infected before.

But what faced me now looked like no beast, more like a creature dragged from the depths of hell. He faced me, and smashed at least twenty mutant creatures with his axe. It clearly had no love for others and simply wanted to kill those who stood in his path. The figure had to dispatch at least two hundred mutant creatures just to get to me, and it did. A few swings of his axe and he was through. Towering over me, it gazed down, it’s face un-recognisable under its hood. Even though his eyes were invisible to me, it looked as if it was staring with anger and hatred at me, for its breathing had become long and full. The body reeked of an unspoken stench. Looking down, I saw the very Earth he stood on decayed, all life simply died and decayed around him. I twitched. It reacted. In one smooth, elegant yet swift swing, the figure brought the axe from his side to on my head. A side roll just saved my life. I slid forward and withdrew two side blades, in one motion I brought them up and down to carve half its legs open. Its legs gave way as it suffered a severe blow but it didn’t give up. Hours of relentless fighting proved inefficient, we fought and fought, however it never seemed to tire or lose its breath. I brought my sword down to severe its hand from its arm. Bad idea. It intercepted the strike and caught me with the tip of his axe. My entire left shoulder was carved open now. Now weak, limp and life-less I lay in a puddle of my own blood. Pain radiated through out my body, each ache felt like a grenade going of in my face. Through a distorted and blurred vision, I saw the axe coming down on my face. Before it made impact, I blacked out.


Pain radiated through my body. I awoke in a dark room, tied to a hard, wooden chair. The walls just dusty, ancient, grey brick, the ceiling had but a little light bulb attached to it by a tiny rusted chain. The smell of the room was that of decaying matter. In the corners of the rooms bodies of decapitated infected lay lifeless. The room was silent, until I started to move. I yanked my hands only to feel excruciating pain, my wrists had been cut and stabbed in several places, I found my large open cut caused by the insane behemoth to be healed and just a scar in its place.

My cuffs simply tightened as I moved my hands. The room was silent, ghostly even, until the rattling of the chains issued several growls in the room. The growls grew louder and heavy running footsteps came towards me.

Flood lights burst on. The entire room was now illuminated brightly. The sight which met my eyes was absolutely terrifying. Strapped on a chair in the centre of an old room was I, and surrounded by four mutant creatures which had their necks chained and strained to each wall. They all pulled towards me but couldn’t beat against their restraints. Growls of desperation and hunger emitted from their mouths -not really mouths but, more like pincers and fangs- and their eyes stared unblinkingly.

“Well, it’s nice to see you awake there my young fellow!” A voice shouted with happiness.

Suddenly, more flood lights switched on. The wall facing me was now fully visible and a glass cut-out separated it-self from the walls about fifteen metres from the ground. On the other side stood three men clad in black suits. Hair neatly groomed and faces full of fascination.

“W-where a-am I? I managed to squeal. My voice was hoarse and sore. Every syllable that emanated from me made my throat feel as it was engulfed in fire.

“I’m afraid I cannot reveal any answer to your questions,” He said deeply, “yet,” he said more lightly. “First, what is your name?” He asked.

No answer came from me but a stare which suggested ‘FUCK YOU!’

“Disappointing” the man said with a sense of anguish. “If we can’t ask you for information, then we must take it by force.”

“Do what you like, I won’t say shit to you!” I shouted.

“Ohhh, no no no, I didn’t mean we’ll do anything to YOU” he said with a menacing voice. He jerked his head to his right and flicked his head to his associate.

Lights blared on to my right to reveal, an unconscious, fully naked Maria, chained and strapped to a wall five feet of the ground. Around her mutants were inches away from her skin.

“You see, the infected mutants shouldn’t be your main worry about her; your main worry about her SHOULD be moi.” he said.

A beam of blue energy erupted around the man and he appeared with two hench-men right in front of me. The two men shot the infected surrounding me with their assault rifles. Looking with shock on my eyes the man knew what I was thinking.

“Teleportation beam, with no government or rules or thinking of public safety our scientists have started a new era of technology.” He explained, “but none of that should concern you, now again tell me who you are!” He demanded.

Saying nothing again, he took out a gun from a holster on his belt and shot the infected surrounding Maria.

“I didn’t want to do this but, you leave me no choice.” He then nodded to one of his men who then went up to Maria, drew out his knife and rested the blade against her wrist.

“I won’t kill her fast, but slowly, first we’ll cut her ever so slightly, then get more aggressive, after that Josè and Kevin here’ll have a chance to get rid of their urges, if ya get what I mean?” He said menacingly, with a wink.

Clearly this ass-hole was suggesting that hey were going to rape Maria. I couldn’t let that happen. So I buckled.

“Ro-Roman H-Hazard,” I grunted.

“Better, now, who is she?” He questioned, gesturing to Maria.

“Maria V-Velenka.” I answered again angrily. My voice still searing with pain.

“Good, now we’re getting some where,” the man commented, “I am George Anderson, leader of the ‘Bio-hazard containment facility’ and your interrogator, call me Mr. Anderson.”

“Great, now let us go! I demanded.

He laughed, “Let you go, I don’t think so, first I need to know all ’bout you, and guess what? We have all the time in the world.”

“No chance!” I said firmly.

His smile turned to anger, swooping his face down to ear he whispered “you say ‘no’ to me one more time BOY, and I will make sure you’ll regret it!”

“Bring it BITCH” I spat. That was my worst mistake, and I couldn’t say how much I regretted it.

Mr. Anderson then scrunched his face and darted towards Maria, pulling out his gun he shot all four restraints binding her wrists and ankles, and she fell to ground. Her unconscious body then came to life. A weak, limp life. She moaned from pain and couldn’t even move her muscles.

“Brave little one this is” Mr. Anderson commented pulling her up by her hair, “doesn’t squeal a word of information, until we started to cut you of course.” he then turned her around to reveal cuts all over her body.

Anger and rage just flooded my head “Let her go, you can do anything to me, just let her go!” I said helplessly.

“What is it my friend? Love?” I think its love” he said. “Well I hope it is, because if it is love, then I’m going to you angry as ever,” he signalled his two men to hold her and bend her over, one of them had brought a table from the other side of the room.

“Please don’t do it!” I yelled.

“Too late son, now here’s the deal, your gonna watch and after I’m done, your gonna be asked a few questions, if they’re answered and I’m satisfied I’ll let you go, if not, I’ll do a lot worse! Do you get me?” He didn’t expect an answer, but I didn’t care. All I cared about was Maria.

I saw that he walked over to Maria’ face and tilted her head to meet his gaze. He then pulled her mouth open and stuck his tongue down her throat. The more Maria resisted and squealed the more forceful Mr. Anderson got. Slowly he pulled his mouth away and then held her face up, his smile turned to anger as he slapped her in the face with the back of his hand. I just wanted to walk up to him and slice his head in two.

Again, I saw that he bent over to her, this time he shouted towards me: “If your little whore does anything to my jewels, I’ll rape her for eternity and, cut off your dick! We have ALL the toys down in the basement, from pleasure to pain and massage to blood, Do you get me?” He asked Maria. I could see she nodded with tears streaming down her eyes.

“Excellent!” commented Mr. Anderson. He then ripped of his belt and un- did his zip. He made Maria suffer so slowly, I saw that he just circled his cock head around her lips, after he opened her mouth he made her suck his head before deep-throating. He rammed his cock down Maria’ throat, even though she gagged and chocked he still put more of his member down her. He then forcefully face-fucked her by placing his hands around her head and shoving her head up and down his rock hard cock until he came. The bastard released all over her face till it was covered with his cum.

The tables were loaded with a splendid Independence Day picnic: hamburgers, hot dogs, fried chicken, potato and pasta salads, cool drinks, ice cream and baked desserts. The guests chatted in the sun and shade around the pool deck. The weather was warm. The dress was casual and minimal. Bikinis predominated, from traditional to thongs. The biggest holiday picnic of the summer was in full swing at Total Woman Excursions resort.

Somerset, but everyone called him Somer, mingled with the other guests. The diversity of women covered the waterfront: buxom, trim, athletic, full-sized, petite, redhead, brunette, blond. Each was a host guide of the facility, formally assigned to a particular guest. Informally, everyone was consentingly available to everyone. Somer walked around, browsing.

Somer’s formal host guide was Julie. Her high heels brought her almost to Somer’s height. The straight haired blond wore a patterned pale green bikini. It tightly molded her buxom body. She held his arm occasionally, squeezing his bicep into her cleavage as she introduced him around to other host guides and their assigned guests.

Food and drink had the crowd in a jolly mood. The after lunch games began. Sack races, balloon bursting and Jell-O wrestling were the more popular games. Somer watched the sack races and thoroughly enjoyed seeing buxom women jumping along in their sacks, boobs bouncing, straining the challenged bikini tops.

Somer participated in the water balloon toss, and then the water balloon bursting, hugging balloons with several different women. He found the less curvy women made superior competitors while the more full featured ones tended to lose the balloons in their cleavage, requiring more effort to burst the water containers.

Somer stood by as the Jell-O wrestling commenced. The women struggled for slippery holds and takedowns. Inevitably, the best grip involved the opponent’s bikini, which all inevitably yielded to the breaking forces applied and were torn off the color splotched bodies. Somer enjoyed the view.

Somer got too close. An ankle was grabbed by each of the two current participants and he was drug into the melee. Slipping and sliding on the wet plastic arena, Somer was encompassed by Jell-O lubricated nude female bodies. He rolled around with them in the colored gelatin. Laughing, he copped numerous feels of boobs, butts and crotches.

Finally pinned down by the pair, one on each side, he voiced capitulation and delighted in the swaying montage of multi-colored beasts as the victors high-5′ed their success. Somer’s hair, face and clothes were a motley mélange of Jell-O mess. His match-mates helped him to stand and walked him to the poolside shower. They removed his shorts and teeshirt and rinsed the Jell-O off Somer and themselves, applying far more sweeps and caresses than necessary to find latent gel in all the wrong places.

Squeaky clean, one woman squatted and grabbed his ankles. Somer leaned over to fend her off. The other woman took his wrists and together they carried Somer to the edge of the pool, swung him one..two..three and threw him nude and noisy in the cool water.

Somer breached the surface to find his shower mates beside him in the pool. A little splash fight broke out. The activity attracted allies for the women. Several other host guides jumped in and Somer was surrounded. He sportingly surrendered.

The women swan a circle around him at arm’s length. Somer took hold of an ally and drew her in. It wasn’t fair to wear a bikini when others were naked. He reached behind to draw apart the string ties at her neck and back. Grabbing the fabric at her cleavage, he pulled the top off and flung it on the pool deck. She turned to a shallow dive and porpoised her bottom. Siezing the moment, he seized her slippery bikini bottom and it came off in his hand as the mermaid escaped. The wad of cloth followed its other half on the pool deck. Somer decided to browse some more.

Somer caught another circling swimmer and released her from her swimsuit. Two more followed. He had six mermaids slowly circling him like sharks hungry for dinner. Somer was getting hungry but not for dinner. He looked up and bikini-clad Julie watched his fun from the deck. He broke the circle and swam to the edge. Julie squatted on her high heels, cameltoe in Somer’s face..

Julie peered down at him. “How’s it going?

“Swimmingly” he joked.

“Find anything that pricks your fancy?”

Somer turned and saw six nude floating women smiling back.

“The brunette on the left and the blond in the middle have a certain appeal.”

Julie nodded and stood. She walked away and Somer returned to the circle. They played some more, dunking heads and grabbing tits, butts and cock underwater. As each contestant tired, they left the group and climbed out. Somer remained with an Oriental black-haired woman and a freckled redhead. Somer and the women floated fatigued and drifted to the steps. Julie waited with a towel and dried Somer, then wrapped it around his waist. She led him to a poolside umbrella table, where the favored brunette and blond sat wearing their retrieved bikinis.

Somer chatted with his select group of host guides. Julie let it be known that Somer fancied his chat-mates and asked if the two women could arrange a swap with their guests. They said they would try. Somer excused himself and returned to his room to dress for dinner. That evening, the facility roasted a pig and the host guides and guests enjoyed a luau with topless hula dancers followed by aerial fireworks.

Somer and Julie strolled to Somer’s bungalow. Inside, Julie tended to Somer; undressing him and relaxing him with a sensual massage. She laid him in bed and climbed in beside him. Julie stroked his cock and he lapped at her nipples between deep kisses. He was getting hard. Julie leaned down and lapped his knob, licking under and around the crown, before swallowing him deep. Somer was getting very hard. Julie moaned adding vibrations to the sensations. Somer held her head down on his cock and his deep rapid breaths preceded his own fireworks bursting deep in her throat.

Julie held his shaft half in her mouth and suckled, swallowing the sperm that remained on her tongue. Somer’s mind swam in the post orgasm glow. Julie crawled up beside him. They lay quiet as Somer cooled down from his orgasm. They dozed.

Somer awoke to the mattress shifting. It was Julie getting up. She donned a sheer robe, translucent in the moonlight. Leaning in, she pecked Somer’s lips and whispered ‘Ready for your swap?” Somer just stared at her as she left the room. Before the door closed, a shadow slipped in. The shadow wore a similar translucent robe, had long blond hair and looked a lot like the ‘mermaid’ from the pool. The blond mounted the bed and leaned to kiss Somer.

“I hope Julie enjoys my guest as much as I am going to enjoy you.”

She wrapped her arms around Somer’s neck and planted a big kiss on his lips. She opened her robe and snuggled next to him. Her generous breasts molded his side and she placed a leg across his thighs. Her hand lay on his groin. Somer wrapped his arm around her body and palmed the top breast. He kneaded it like a water balloon, hard squeezes. Somer closed his eyes. The blond rubbed his cock. All of this was having the desired effect. Somer got hard.

The blond rolled and mounted up. Her robe billowed behind her as she arranged Somer properly and dropped down. She began her ride with long sweeping strokes, rolling her hips to drag the wedged crown along the length of her tube. Somer bounced his hips a few times as a signal to speed up but the blond placed a hand on his chest and maintained a steady pace. Somer relaxed back and surrendered to her control. In the moonlight he could see her face rapt in an expression of concentration and determination. The pace continued unhurried and unabated.

Somer heard the blond beginning to moan. The pace increased slightly. Somer felt a quickening of his own. The blond moaned louder. Somer tried again to buck his hips and this time she responded by increasing the pace. The strokes were shorter now, deep and short. His knob scraped the sides and his tip tickled her cervix. Somer was nearing his plunge into ecstasy. The blond was rasping through her open mouth. As one, they climaxed, the blond stopping with Somer as deep as he could go. Somer spouted into her womb, crying out.

The blond vibrated for a few moments, breathed out and fell forward to lie on Somer’s torso. Her boobs splayed across his chest, squished between them. She wrapped her arms around his neck, lips buzzing his earlobe. Somer rubbed her back and ass, caressing her warmth. They lay quiet while Somer shrank and fell out of the blonde’s cunt. They dozed that way. Somer awoke briefly as the blonde adjusted to lie at his side. Somer dozed off again.

The mattress shifted as the blonde got out and left. Shortly thereafter, Julie returned, shuffling and looking extremely disheveled. She crawled in and took the other blonde’s place next to Somer. He was awake now.

“Was she good to you?” Julie asked.

“Very” he replied.

“I’m glad. You smell like ‘fuck’. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Julie drew a tub of water and helped Somer get in, leaning in from the outside, boobs dangling in the suds. Somer let her wash him thoroughly. She played with his prick but got no real response. Somer was exhausted. That was fine with Julie; she was sore from the workout the other blonde’s guest had given her. She hadn’t known some of those positions existed in human sexual activities. She had gotten a few new lessons in lovemaking. Someday, she would write a new chapter in the Total Woman Excursions Host Guide Manual.

September 2018
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