Calista’s Dungeon Ch. 25

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Bruno had just returned from retrieving the day’s mail from the front gate. He sorted through the mail and placed it in neat stacks for each member of Calista’s live in staff. Gathering Mistress Calista’s mail, he carried the stack into Calista’s office and handed it to her. Calista thanked him and began to look through the various letters and junk mail he had brought her. One envelope caught her eye. The address was hand written, with no name in the return address. The hand writing seemed familiar, but she didn’t immediately recognize who it might belong to. Curious, Calista opened that letter first and began to read it. ‘My dearest calista’, it began. Suddenly, Calista recognized the handwriting and sat down in her padded office chair with a smile on her face.

The letter was from her college roommate, Roxanne. It had been nearly ten years since she had heard from her and often wondered how she was. Roxanne had gone on to law school, practiced law in Virginia, married a very successful attorney, had two young girls, ages eight and six, and had become a stay at home Mom. The letter said that she was trying to restart her law career, since both of her girls were in school. She would be coming to the city near Calista’s home next week and wanted to visit her ‘old’ roomie for the weekend. Calista smiled happily as her mind drifted back to her freshman year at the University and she began to reminisce about her time with Mistress Roxanne. She roomed with Roxanne, who was a Junior, in an apartment house devoted to housing student women off campus.

From day one, Roxanne made it crystal clear that as a Junior, she ranked higher in the social order than Calista. Since she was the only Junior in the apartment building, and there were no Seniors living there, she essentially was the boss and set the ‘house rules’. Roxanne was a statuesque woman at six feet tall without shoes and she always seemed to wear at least four inch heels. Calista was awestruck when she first saw Roxanne take a shower. Her full breasts were a D cup size, with not even a hint of sag to them that, seemed to defy gravity. She had large nipples that always appeared to be hard and she had complimented her about her beautiful breasts. Roxanne had a small well proportioned waist, a wonderfully shaped ass and very shapely legs. She had blond hair that fell nearly to the middle of her back that always seemed perfectly coiffed. She had light blue eyes and her face was beautiful beyond imagination.

If the Greek Goddess of love, Aphrodite, would suddenly appear on Earth, Calista fantasized that she would look exactly like Roxanne. To say that Calista was ‘taken’ by Roxanne would be a complete understatement. She was mesmerized by the tall beautiful woman that shared her room. Calista found herself to be completely intimidated by Roxanne, and so did most of the other women students that lived in the apartment house. Being only seventeen years old, Calista meekly complied with what ever she was told to do. From the very first week, Calista was running errands and given jobs to do around the house by Roxanne. Eventually, Calista came under Roxanne’s total Domination.

It started with the running of errands, doing her laundry, cooking for her and ultimately submitting to her every wish and desire. In fact, Roxanne was a Domme and Calista’s Mistress, for the two years that they lived together. After the first week of living together, Roxanne began to slowly bring Calista under her spell of Domination. She suggested what clothes Calista should wear and in a short time, the suggestions became mandatory, as Calista meekly complied. Soon, Roxanne would order Calista to wash her back while she showered then it became a ritual that the younger girl would bathe Roxanne completely. Roxanne calculated her take over of Calista’s will with mathematical precision. Each new task or activity was designed to purposefully enchant the girl into a deeper state of submission.

One afternoon after classes were over, Calista had finished her homework and she decided to shower. She stripped naked and entered the shower. She bathed with her eyes shut to prevent soap from burning her eyes when Calista heard the shower door open. Unable to open her eyes, she felt Roxanne’s huge breasts and nipples pressed against her back. Calista appeared dumbstruck and just stood still letting the warm water rinse the soap from her face. She felt a sponge lathering her back and realized that Roxanne was bathing her. Calista quivered as the older girl continued to bathe her. Roxanne reached around Calista’s body and began to lather the younger girls little titties, rubbing her nipples often with the soapy sponge to arouse her.

“Let’s make sure those cute little titties and nipples are clean, calista,” Roxanne told her as she continued to bathe Calista’s breasts. Although, she couldn’t tell if Roxanne said her name with a capital C or lower case c, it seemed as though she always spoke her name with a small c. Calista felt her long clit sliding out of its hood as Roxanne aroused her while she bather her. The younger girl was self conscious about her long clitoris and always tried to conceal it from all other girls. Roxanne had seen Calista’s clitoris and was fascinated by its length and girth. It protruded over one half inch from its hood when Calista became excited. Calista moaned aloud as Roxanne drew the soapy sponge over the younger girls’ clit and washed it repeatedly.

Calista felt it so strange to have another naked woman rubbing her body against hers, and to wash her genitals as though it was a normal thing to do. She sighed passionately as Roxanne let the sponge drop to the shower floor while she ‘bathed’ Calista’s pussy and clitoris with her fingers. She captured Calista’s clit between her fingers, where her fingers join her palm. Roxanne started to gently squeeze and release her fingers around the girls’ long clit, amplifying Calista’s arousal. After a few minutes, Roxanne turned Calista around looked deeply into the young girls’ eyes. Roxanne cupped and lifted Calista’s chin slightly as she bent to kiss the young girls’ lips tenderly. Calista melted in her embrace, returning Roxanne’s kiss with an eager passion. She moaned into the older woman’s mouth as their tongues entwined. It was the first time that Calista had ever kissed a woman like this.

Roxanne lifted Calista’s supple body in her arms and carried her out of the shower to her bed. She gently laid the girl across the bed on her back, placing her calves on her shoulders as she towered over Calista’s small body. Roxanne bent over her and began to trace her tongue all over Calista’s small titties as the older woman’s huge breasts were exotically drawn over the girls’ belly. Calista’s pussy oozed her juices as Roxanne concentrated on the girls’ nipples, swirling her tongue all over them, sucking them into her mouth. Calista shivered with arousal as she realized that she was allowing another woman to sexually explore and toy with her body. Calista surrendered completely to Roxanne’s dominance as the older woman brought her breasts to Calista’s mouth.

“Nurse on my breasts, calista,” Roxanne whispered to her. Captivated by her beauty and her superiority, Calista eagerly licked the hard nipples on Roxanne’s huge breasts. Opening her mouth Calista sucked on them like a hungry baby nursing at her mother’s breast. Roxanne moaned with pleasure as she was suckled by the young girl underneath her, often moving her mouth from one nipple to the other. After a few minutes, Roxanne kissed Calista deeply, trailed her tongue down the girls’ belly, across the soft her curls of her dark bush to kiss her slit. Calista shuddered in a hard orgasm from her first experience in bisexuality. Roxanne smiled to herself, pleased that Calista had cum hard when she had only just kissed her sweet pussy.

Roxanne parted the lips of the girls’ pussy with her tongue and plunged her tongue deep inside the soft, pink inner folds of Calista’s pussy. The young girl, cried out again as she writhed and bucked in another hard cum. ‘My God,’ Roxanne thought, ‘calista is a multiple!’ She swiftly tongued the girl’s clit several times and in a few seconds Calista had another orgasm. “Mmmmmmmm, you taste good, calista,” Roxanne told her as she concentrated on sucking and licking Calista’s long clitoris. The girls’ juices flowed heavily as Roxanne greedily gathered them with her tongue and swallowed them. Calista was lost in an obscure cloud of ecstasy and lust, as she groaned and writhed as Roxanne made love to her. It was obvious to Roxanne that her little submissive had never sex with another woman and she relished the thought that she was the first.

A glowing sheen of sweat covered both women’s bodies as Roxanne lost count of the number of times that she made Calista cum. Her lovely little sexpot drifted aimlessly from one orgasm to another, lost in her sexual awakening of bisexual love. Roxanne finally stopped orally pleasuring her new submissive, only because her tongue and mouth were sore and aching. She kissed her way up Calista’s body to embrace her and shower her mouth with kisses. Calista tasted her own nectar for the first time from Roxanne’s tongue as she sucked on it to please her. Roxanne released Calista and rolled of the young girls’ body to lie next to her.

Calista nuzzled Roxanne’s breasts and began to suck them while the older woman moaned with delight. Not knowing what was expected of her, Calista began to lick her way down Roxanne’s body tasting her salty sweet sweat in the process. The older woman decided to lie still and let nature take its course to see what the younger girl would do. Unsure of what to do, she licked Roxanne’s smoothly shaved mons and kissed her wet pussy as if it were the natural thing to do. The taste of the older girl’s juices, were pleasant to Calista’s palate and she eagerly began to lick and suck Roxanne’s pussy. This time it was Roxanne that writhed and groaned as Calista’s tongue seemed to be naturally made for bisexual love making. In a few moments, Roxanne groaned as she shuddered through a savage orgasm.

Calista, a fast learner, licked and sucked Roxanne’s pussy and clit throughout her orgasm. She stopped only when the older woman gasped that she had had enough. “Oh God, baby,” Roxanne told her as she breathed heavily, “You’re a natural…lover. Was that the first time you have ever made love to another woman, calista?” she asked. Calista nodded ‘yes’ as she snuggled against Roxanne to bask in her radiance. The older woman cuddled her submissive in her arms, kissing her forehead and cheeks as she mothered her. “You are sooooo delicious, sweet one, you pleased me very much…Mistress loves you, calista.” The young girl was happy that she had pleased Roxanne and she felt comforted knowing that her Mistress loved her.

They lay in bed for nearly an hour before rising to shower again. Calista was enraptured by the sounds they had made during their lovemaking. Moreover, the smell of sex still permeated the room. It seemed so natural and comforting to her. While drying their bodies, Calista asked, “Are…are you my Mistress now…Ma’am?”

“Yes, calista, I am your Mistress…unless you don’t enjoy serving me or don’t want to please me.”

“Ohhh, no, Mistress, I want very much to please and serve You in every way that I can, but this is so new for me…how will I know that I’m doing what You want…Ma’am?” Roxanne smiled at the emphasis Calista placed on the words Mistress, Ma’am and You.

“Mistress will tell you if I’m pleased with you or not, little one.” Again her use of the term, ‘little one’ demonstrated Roxanne’s Dominance over Calista and continued to set the tone for their relationship. “You will always call me Mistress, Mistress Roxanne, or Ma’am when we are alone, at a private place, or at any place that it’s appropriate for you to call me that. I’ll tell you when you should call me by those names. When in school or at a public place, you will call me Roxanne unless I tell you other wise. Do you understand, little one?” Calista nodded ‘yes’ and made a mental note to remember Mistress’s instructions. “Another essential in our relationship is that I expect you earn only A’s in your grades.”

“But Mistress, I don’t know that if I can do that.”

“Of course you can, pet,” Roxanne told her. I’ve seen your High School transcripts and you have had all A’s since you were in eighth grade, and the lower eight grade was an A minus,” Roxanne told her.

“You saw my transcripts?” Calista asked, amazed that Roxanne had access to her grades.

“Of course, pet,” Roxanne replied, “I don’t choose just anyone to be my roommate.” Once again Roxanne demonstrated her superior knowledge of Calista’s background. Additionally, she underscored Calista’s station in their relationship, by calling her ‘pet’. The submissive listened as her Mistress told her that she had a friend in the Registrar’s office that had accessed her grades from the college computer. Calista learned that Roxanne had several ‘client submissives’ that paid her to provide them with Domination services from time to time. Both women and men students needed her services and were willing to pay handsomely to receive them.

Roxanne told her that most of her student ‘clients’ were young men and women that came from privileged households that could easily afford it. Calista was amazed to learn about these Domination services, and that Roxanne earned money by providing them Domination ’sessions’. She asked her Mistress of she had adult ‘clients’ and Roxanne shook her head, ‘no’. Calista wondered and asked where she carried out her ’sessions’. “Either the basement or the attic of our apartment building,” her Mistress told her, grinning about the various questions her new submissive asked. “I’ll show you later tonight when most everyone in the apartment building is asleep, pet.”

Calista was spent and drained from their lovemaking. She put on a short night gown and crawled into her twin bed. Pulling the covers over her, she watched Roxanne get into her queen size bed naked. She looked dreamily at her Mistress who smiled and gazed at her. “Are you sure you want to sleep alone, calista?” the older girl asked, as she pulled back her covers invitingly. Calista seemed to leap from her bed and climbed into bed with Roxanne. “Why don’t you take your night gown off, little one?” Calista pulled the gown from her body and happily snuggled next to her Mistress. Roxanne turned the lamp off and they drifted off to sleep.

It was the weekend, but they awoke around nine o’clock am so both of them could finish their homework, thus have the rest of the weekend free for fun and other activities. Roxanne told Calista the she preferred her to always be naked while in the apartment. Calista didn’t question her Mistress’s instruction and sat down naked at the desk to do her assignments. Roxanne, however, was dressed in a shirt and jeans. Calista didn’t question why she was naked and Roxanne was dressed. As far as she was concerned, if her Mistress wanted it that way it was fine with her. Roxanne hung a terrycloth robe on the door for Calista in case someone knocked or came to visit. Calista nodded and continued with her homework. Again, Roxanne considered Calista’s silence as another victory on her path to total submission.

Both girls finished their homework by mid afternoon. Roxanne looked at her and announced, “Get dressed for dinner, calista. I want you to wear the wide pleated black wee mini skirt, with your tightest white tank top that reveals your cute little belly button.” Calista laid out the clothing that had been selected for her and reached for a new pair of pantyhose. Roxanne shook her head ‘no’ and pointed to the Roman sandals that cross laced rawhide cords around her calves. Calista obeyed as Roxanne tossed her a sheer black thong panty and matching sheer bra. Roxanne wore a similar outfit with a longer mini skirt and a tank top that covered the waistband of the mini skirt. She too wore no pantyhose, and a pair of dress sandals.

Roxanne decided they would dine at a dimly lit franchise steakhouse. She ordered a petite filet, salad and a glass of red wine for each of them. Calista whispered to Roxanne that at seventeen she was underage and perhaps she shouldn’t drink any wine. Roxanne countered that many college girls were underage, but Calista looked older and not to worry. Both girls sipped at their wine until their food arrived. Unaccustomed to drinking, Calista got a slight buzz, but was sure the steak would prevent her from becoming tipsy. As they ate, Roxanne leaned across the table toward Calista and told her they each should each cut off a small piece of steak, draw the piece of steak between their slits and eat the pieces. She warned Calista not to be seen doing it. Calista looked puzzled, but her Mistress’s stern look overcame her concern and again she complied.

Both of them cut their meat, secretly drew the small piece between the lips of their pussies then placed the piece on their plates. Roxanne nodded and Calista picked up her piece of steak with her fork, placed it in her mouth and ate it. A rush of excitement coursed through her body as her action went unnoticed by anyone. She grinned at her Mistress in victory. Roxanne smiled and placed her piece of steak on Calista’s plate too. She looked at her Mistress in awe then under Roxanne’s stern look she exhaled deeply and ate that piece of steak too. Roxanne smirked and lifted her wine glass to hold it until Calista touched it with her glass and they sipped their wine. Calista, though surprised by her Mistress, felt her heart beating faster with excitement of what Roxanne had made her do in a public place.

When they finished dinner Roxanne paid the check and she and Calista left the restaurant. It was only five thirty o’clock pm, and Roxanne told her they were going for a walk through the park. They would walk to a small shopping area on the other side of the park. Calista nodded, happy just to be with Roxanne and go wherever she wanted. Walking through the park, they passed an empty park bench and Roxanne suggested that they sit and enjoy the sun. After sitting for few minutes Roxanne began to laugh and giggle about the steak incident at the restaurant. Calista, being a tiny bit heady from the wine, joined in the giggling. She told Roxanne that she was so turned on after she wet the small piece of steak in her pussy, that her juices also wet her panties too.

Roxanne acted surprised and slipped her hand under Calista’s skirt to feel her crotch. “Oh my…take those panties off right now, calista, and give them to me. I can’t have you going around with wet panties,” she said to her young companion. Calista was startled at Roxanne’s demand and looked around to see if anyone was looking at them or was nearby. “Don’t worry about anyone seeing you, Roxanne told her. That man sitting over near the bush is looking the other way. I’ll keep lookout for you. Just do it quickly.” Calista tried to protest, but it was useless. Roxanne’s mind was made up and she insisted.

The younger girl looked around and could see no one looking at them that was close enough to see her remove her panties. She swallowed hard, lifted her bottom up a few inches above the bench seat and quickly slipped her wet thong off. Roxanne took her time taking the panties from Calista and held them in her hand. The man turned around and saw her slowly place the panties in her purse. He smiled at the girls, waved his hand and nodded. Calista blushed and quickly looked away from him as Roxanne giggled. Roxanne stood up and motioned for Calista to follow her. They walked past the man who had waved to them. He grinned at them and said, “Thank you, ladies. That was a very nice show.”

It was almost 8:00 PM when Jake informed us that we had just turned west onto the rue du Colisée. From what I could see, the police had cordoned off the entire area around the restaurant, and the doormen were busy assisting the elegantly clad Sisterhood patrons as they walked gingerly through the cordon and up the few steps leading into the restaurant. The restaurant itself stood several meters away from us on the left side of the busy thoroughfare, it’s marquee announcing the evening’s event in bold black letters against a white background. I noticed that there were men in black suits checking IDs at the door.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“This is strictly a private affair,” my aunt said adjusting the straps on her evening gown. “The entire restaurant is ours for the night.” She smiled and patted my hand. “Come on. Let’s enjoy ourselves.”

She ordered Jake to stop the car before we actually approached the cordon and he came out and opened the door for us.

“I don’t know how long we’ll be,” she told him. “But be back here at least by midnight.”

“Yes, Ms. Anjou,” he replied, courteously.

As my aunt and I approached the restaurant, a doorman spotted us and escorted us toward the front entrance where we had to show our IDs to the men in black suits. One of the men handed back my aunt’s card and apologized.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Anjou,” he said, sheepishly. “I should have recognized you.”

“That’s quite all right,” she replied good-naturedly. “It’s good to see that you people are doing your job.”

He looked at me. “Is this lady with you?”

“She’s my niece.”

“That’s fine,” he said, returning my card to me. “Please go in.”

The doorman held the door for us and as we entered several Sisters approached us all at once and told us to follow them. One of them was Zula, a tall African woman whom I had seen last at the Sisterhood meeting at my aunt’s home in San Diego a year ago. The other was Selena Montaldo, a striking Spanish beauty.

“Lenore is waiting for you at the head table,” Zula said to my aunt in a staid tone of voice. “She wants to get this thing underway as soon as possible.”

“Fine,” my aunt replied. “Lead on.”

Zula was a rather abrupt woman who seemed to lack the common niceties one would expect a person to exhibit in polite society. She had, after all, not respectfully greeted either my aunt or me, and I found this unacceptable in a person. I later found out that Zula had killed a man in her native Africa for making fun of the dress she was wearing at the time. She had hit him over the head with a hammer, crushing his skull. Selena, on the other hand, was all smiles and graciousness as she took both my aunt’s hand and mine and led us across the densely packed room.

“Look at this,” she said to us in a hushed but excited voice. “Almost every Sisterhood leader is here tonight—over 250 of them!”

My aunt and I surveyed the crowded room, the boisterous women replete in every conceivable style of designer evening gown; their dresses’ variegate colors reminding me of the plumage on a flock of exotic birds. Besides Zula and Selena, and some of the more familiar Sisters I had recently met, I recognized several other faces from that meeting a year ago, among them Anya Rostokovitch, Yin Ping Hun, and Kyoto Sarumoto. Most of these women had formed small cluster groups, or cliques, and were already drinking quite heavily with their comrades. As we passed by, some took notice of my aunt and said hello, while others looked and totally ignored us. Some of these latter types were the same ones who had sat in attendance at my earlier “test” and had not approved of my unorthodox methods of “punishing” Mr. Villon.

“A few unfriendly faces amongst the crowd I see,” my aunt said turning to me. “Don’t let it bother you, Holly. If I’m able to deal with it, so should they. Forget them.”

The truth was, I really didn’t really care much about whether those women had approved of me or not. All I cared about was that I had done the right thing as I saw it and that my conscience was clean. Lenore herself had approved and that was enough for me.

As we traversed the entire length of the room, I had a chance to admire the beautiful furnishings and charming Art Deco décor. In addition to the many fine impressionistic paintings that adorned the walls, there was a space behind the bar that was reserved for the photographs of famous musicians who had played at the celebrated restaurant. Some of the ones I recognized were Thelonius Monk, John Coltrane, Dizzy Gillespie, and Stan Getz. The only reason I recognized these men was because my aunt had shown me a scrapbook of all the jazz musicians she had come to know and love. She saw me concentrating on their pictures and smiled.

“The greats!” she said, looking over the portraits. “The crème de la crème!”

We passed beyond the main area of the restaurant and through a set of glass doors that opened out into a larger function room. It was twice the size of the main area and had very high ceilings with enormous glass chandeliers that seemed almost too heavy to hang safely from their mounts. To our left was the bandstand, a large semicircular riser upon which the 30 or so musicians were tuning their instruments or engaging in idle talk. One of the men, a handsome, dark-haired man in his early 30s dressed in a black tuxedo and carrying a saxophone, spotted my aunt and quickly came toward us.

“Phoebe!” he shouted excitedly. “Hey, it’s me! Porky!”

My aunt immediately recognized the genial man and threw open her arms to greet him.

“Paul!” she exclaimed, giving him a big hug. “It’s so good to see you again! You look wonderful!”

Paul Sturgess, or “Porky,” as he preferred to be called, held my aunt around her waist with one arm while holding his saxophone in the other. He seemed elated to see her.

“Me?” he said. “Look at you! Why you’re more beautiful than the last time I saw you. What was that? Five years ago?”

“At least,” she replied, taking a step back to admire him.

“I’m so glad you asked my band to play. It’s an honor, really.”

“I’m so glad you agreed,” she laughed. “You guys are tough to book.”

He looked down at his saxophone and ran one of his hands over the valves. “Busy as hell these days, Phoebe. My agent gave me a bit of a hard time at first, but when he saw his commission on this gig…”

My aunt laughed. “You’re still as suave as ever. May I present to you my niece, Holly McKenzie?”

“Hi Holly,” he said extending his hand to me. “I’m glad to know you.”

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Sturgess,” I said, as I looked up into his friendly brown eyes and shook his hand.

“Porky, please.”

“And these are my associates Selena Montaldo and Zula,” my aunt said.

The two women exchanged greetings with the dashing musician—Selena shook his hand warmly, Zula just grunted.

“Well,” Porky said to my aunt. “I’ve got to get onstage. Show’s about to begin. Anything special you want to hear?”

My aunt thought a moment. “How about ‘When Sunny Gets Blue’?”

Porky smiled. “That used to be your favorite tune. Sure, no problem. Catch you later. Nice meeting you ladies.”

Porky kissed my aunt on the cheek and then resumed his place on the bandstand, leading the orchestra in a rendition of an old jazz classic from the Big Band era called “Stardust”.

“Isn’t he wonderful?” my aunt beamed. “And wait until you hear him play that sax!”

Selena and Zula led us away from the bandstand and toward the opposite side of the room. It was a bit difficult navigating our way through horde of Sisters, most of who had already ingested far too much alcohol and were mulling about like a herd of disoriented cattle.

“Oh, get out of the way for Christ’s sake!” my aunt yelled at one drunken, middle-aged woman who refused to budge. “Let us through!”

When the woman simply stared back at my aunt and did not move, Zula threw her arms around the woman’s waist and lifted her up, placing her in the nearest chair. The woman uttered something derogatory to the Amazonian and then slumped over across the table.

“You are a disgrace!” my aunt said to the drunken woman.

The woman raised her head a few inches off the table as if to reply and promptly closed her eyes and slumped back to her former position. She had passed out.

Suddenly, we heard Lenore’s voice cry out from her seat across the room. She was sitting at a long, rectangular table against the far wall surrounded by a small group of women.

“Over here! Over here!”

“We’re coming!” my aunt shouted in reply, as we forced our way through the crowd.

I followed closely behind my aunt, utilizing her body as a human shield to protect me from the mass of people pressing into us. When the two women finally met they hugged and kissed. Lenore surprised me by kissing me too—something she had never done.

“I don’t have to tell you that you both look lovely do I?” the Sisterhood leader said.

“Oh, go ahead and say it,” my aunt replied. “Tell us how beautiful we look because you know we’ll have to tell you the same thing.”

Both women laughed.

At Lenore’s table sat Justine and Estelle and several other women whom I didn’t know. The seats to Lenore’s immediate right and left were empty.

“Phoebe, come ’round and sit here next to me. And you, Holly, I want you to sit right here.”

She pointed to the chair on her right—a place of honor amongst those of the Sisterhood.

“Thank you,” I said, following her instruction.

After my aunt and I were seated, Lenore introduced us to the half dozen women seated with us whom my aunt, it seemed, didn’t know herself.

“It’s a pleasure to meet all of you ladies,” my aunt said. “Of course after a few drinks I won’t remember any of your names.”

Lenore laughed. “Three drinks and you won’t even remember your own!”

Justine, Estelle, and the other women all seemed to be in high spirits. They laughed when they heard this and Estelle said she was looking forward to Phoebe’s third drink, after which she, herself, downed a half glass of scotch.

The conversation at our table centered around chiefly personal, rather than professional, matters. The women were a motley group of various ages and nationalities. Two women, who were introduced to me as Muriel and Lorraine, spoke entirely in French, not knowing a word of English. Another spoke broken English but with an accent I couldn’t recognize. My aunt soon became engrossed in a conversation with the two French women, but I could only understand very little of what was being said.

“Muriel and Lorraine were at the session earlier today,” Lenore said to me. “That’s what they’re talking about right now.”

“Really?” I asked surprised. “I don’t remember them being there.”

“They weren’t. They watched the whole thing from their hotel room on closed circuit TV.”

“Oh,” I said, suddenly feeling uneasy. “You mean that whole thing is on tape?”

“I keep a record of every Sisterhood event. There are hidden cameras in the walls.”

I wasn’t very happy to hear this news.

“I don’t think it’s fair that I wasn’t told about this,” I said.

“No one knew about it but me,” Lenore replied. “I have my own reasons for videotaping it, and I promise you that it will not go out of my hands.”

From the bandstand the first few strains of “When Sunny Gets Blue” reached our ears, the melody of which was being beautifully played by Porky on his saxophone.

“Isn’t that just wonderful?” my aunt said in a singsong voice. “Her eyes get gray and cloudy…”

The two French women looked at my aunt, who had now broken into a full vocal rendition of the song, like they had been offended. My aunt ignored them.

“And the rain begins to fall,” she continued to sing, oblivious to everyone and everything.

“Oh fuck,” Justine laughed. “She’s on a roll now.”

“If she could only sing on key!” Estelle commented, lifting her glass to toast my aunt’s less than stellar efforts.

She continued to sing the song until the moment when Porky took the microphone and crooned part of the song himself. He had a very nice baritone voice and sang almost as well as he played the saxophone.

As the song neared its end, the waiters began taking orders. Our entire table seemed grateful for this interruption, as everyone, including me, appeared to be starved. I was happy just to know I wouldn’t have to endure another verse of my aunt’s off-key singing.

Lenore did not say much about my “test,” earlier in the day, probably fearing that any praise she might lavish upon me would only hurt my aunt’s feelings. She did whisper to me that she was “immensely proud” of my “achievement,” and that she and I would have time to discuss matters later.

After the waiters had taken our orders, my aunt ordered a round of drinks for everyone at our table. I was talked into ordering a glass of wine, even though I would have preferred a ginger ale.

“Stop being so American!” Lenore joked. “You’re in the most romantic city in the world. Live a little!”

With that she raised her glass of Chardonnay to her lips and savored a mouthful.

“That’s right,” my aunt agreed. “You have to let yourself go once in a while. Have fun!”

Lenore raised her glass to the others. “To fun!”

All the women toasted one another and once again began chatting amongst themselves.

When the appetizers arrived a short while later I began to wonder what had become of Craig. He never told me what time he would arrive, but I thought he would certainly make it for dinner. I knew his friend Barney was coming with him so maybe there was some kind of holdup on that end. By the time our soup arrived I was beginning to think he had forgotten all about our appointment, and that maybe he had decided to return to Stockholm with Dr. Swensen after all. The thought of him not showing up made me very disappointed, so much so that I hardly touched my soup.

“The soup is delicious,” Lenore said to me. “Why aren’t you eating it?”

“Craig promised me he was going to be here tonight.”

Lenore stole a quick glance at my aunt and then looked down into her bowl.

“Oh, I wouldn’t let that bother you,” she said, taking a sip of broth. “I’m sure he’ll come. He’s probably just running a little late.”

“Maybe,” I said glumly, refusing to accept her explanation.

“Oh, come on, Holly,” she said, resting her hand on my arm. “I saw the way he looked at you. He’ll be here. I promise you.”

“I hope so,” I said, stirring my soup in a careless fashion. “I wore this dress especially for him.”

Again Lenore glanced at my aunt, but neither woman said anything further. Finally, my patience broke.

“Is there something I’m missing here?” I asked, looking back and forth at both of them.

“Not at all,” my aunt quickly replied. “Why don’t you try to eat your soup?”

“I don’t care about the soup!” I said, raising my voice.

Both Lenore and my aunt were taken aback by my sudden outburst, and the other women at the table stopped talking and stared at me.

“Holly, please!” my aunt said looking dismayed. “Don’t make a scene.”

I didn’t want to draw attention to myself, but I couldn’t help but feel that the two of them were keeping something from me.

“He’s not coming is he?”

My aunt just shook her head and kept eating.

“You’d tell me if he wasn’t coming wouldn’t you?”

Again she said nothing.

“Aunt Phoebe!”

This second outburst caused her to drop her spoon on the floor.

“I can’t tell you what I don’t know,” she replied testily. “Now relax and eat your soup and try to have a little faith in people.”

“That’s great”! I muttered under my breath. When my aunt talked about having faith in people I knew it was time to worry. She may have once, long ago, believed in those very ideals I had long cherished and had now recently been forced to reevaluate, but she was essentially a pragmatist who was not inclined to favor the spiritual nature of life. Telling me to have faith in someone was tantamount to telling an ascetic that hedonism was the true path to virtue. It simply didn’t add up.

The instinctive feeling that she was hiding something from me would not go away, but I chose not to belabor the issue. If Craig were a man of his word I would soon know. If not, then I would have to bid him adieu. As much as I liked him, I could not respect a man who could not keep his promise.

“Après la pluie le beau temps,” Muriel said to me in a sympathetic voice.

“What?” I replied.

“She says ‘every cloud has a silver lining,’ my aunt said. “She sees that you’re unhappy.”

“Oh,” I replied, turning to Muriel. “Is it that obvious?”

She just smiled at me while aunt interpreted my question.

“Amour,” my aunt continued.

“Oui…amour!” Muriel laughed. “Ça ne casse pas trois pattes à un canard!”

I looked at my aunt. “What does she say about love?”

“She says it’s nothing to get excited about.”

All the women at the table seemed to think this comment amusing—everyone but me.

Our dinner was a most sumptuous repast with every conceivable Parisian delicacy made available courtesy of the “Philanthropic Society.” I was hungry but I really couldn’t eat much since my mind was constantly focused on the blonde Swedish boy who had now, it seemed, vanished as quickly as he had come. As the evening wore on, I grew less hurt and more peeved at Craig’s apparent callousness. I didn’t seem right to me that he would just leave without any explanation. In fact, such an action seemed completely out of character for such a charming and considerate boy, and it puzzled me greatly.

After dinner had been served, Lenore was called to the bandstand to pass out awards to those Sisters who had achieved distinction in their roles as chapter leaders, my aunt Phoebe being one of the recipients. When the last award had been handed out, Lenore gave a short speech congratulating the dozen or so women who had been honored and then informed the audience that the “Dance of the Waiters” was now going to commence.

I watched as Porky escorted Lenore off the stage, his saxophone steadfastly by his side. By the time he had climbed back onto the bandstand the house lights had been turned off and were replaced by bright, multi-colored, theatrical lights that illuminated the stage and the dance floor just in front of it. The audience was hushed with anticipation as the handsome bandleader turned to the orchestra and counted off the time by snapping his fingers. He then raised his saxophone to his lips and began playing a very sensual and enervating introduction to a song I later learned he had composed himself.

As the eerily beautiful strains of the saxophone filled the air, an ensemble of two-dozen waiters strode onto the dance floor in their waiter’s uniforms and began dancing to the music. They held trays in their hands, which they used as props, tossing them over their heads and to each other as they moved around the floor in a catlike motion. At one point the dancers formed a closed circle and flung their trays high into the air and outward towards the audience. Seeing this, the women closest to these flying missiles gave out a series of horrified shrieks, only to discover that these so-called “trays” were nothing more than foam plates that landed harmlessly all around them.

Now the other members of the orchestra began to add their own unique voices to the instrumental mix, creating an ambiance of textures, invoking hauntingly seductive minor modalities that seemed almost ethereal in nature. In my opinion, Porky had created nothing short of a jazz masterpiece, and I could tell by the fascinated look on my aunt’s face that she, too, had completely succumbed to the influence of this beautiful music.

But our attention was quickly diverted from the music to the dancers themselves, who were now, unexpectedly, beginning to undress themselves. Bit by bit, pieces of clothing were being tossed pell-mell into the audience. A shirt here, a pair of socks there—even their pants finally came off, revealing a pair of thongs on every man. The crowd went wild.

“A strip show!” Justine exclaimed. “How quaint!”

It was apparent that these men had been chosen for their youth, physical attractiveness, and especially their dancing skills, as the routine they were now performing was nothing short of difficult, requiring great talent and coordination. As the music grew more frenetic, so did the dance routine itself, the men whirling about the dance floor at almost break-neck speed, heedless of the cheers of the audience surrounding them. The precision-like timing of their movements was impeccable, and when the music reached a crescendo, they, likewise, lined up all in a row and began to shake their lower bodies so hard that I thought their tiny thongs would fall off. And, unbeknownst to me, that was exactly what was supposed to happen.

As the music swelled to its final tutti, each man grabbed the right side of his strap and pulled on the Velcro attachment. Almost in unison, each man’s thong fell to the floor, even as the music stopped playing. We were now looking at a chorus line of twenty-four nude men—twenty-four specimens of spectacular male beauty standing arm in arm, their sublime flesh exposed in the glare of the bright lights for all the women to enjoy. And enjoy it they did.

To the thunderous applause and cheers of the crowd, the dancers slowly inched their way forward to the edge of the dance floor and took a deep bow. They then turned around and bowed again with their backs to us, showing off their muscular bottoms. This brought the house down.

“Look at the ass on that one!” Lenore squealed, pointing to a rather husky specimen on our far left.

“No him!” Estelle exclaimed, almost unable to spit the words out because she was laughing so hard. “The guy in the middle. Look at the size of that dick!”

“I haven’t been able to keep my eyes off it,” my aunt informed us.

Suddenly, a woman came running up to our table dressed in a long, white, satin evening gown, her short red hair radiant in the glow of the spotlights. It was Dr. Monroe.

“Joanna,” Lenore said. “There’s one for the record books,” she said, indicating the man with the outsized organ.

“I know!” she said out of breath. “Isn’t that amazing? Another Mr. Villon!” She grabbed a chair and sat down next to my aunt, still keeping her eyes on the impressive sight. “I’ll definitely have to do an examination on him!”

We all laughed.

Porky struck up the band once again, and we were greeted with familiar refrains of a popular stripper song. As the music played, the men wound their way into the audience taking orders for drinks from the women.

“Ladies,” Porky said over the microphone, “don’t forget to tip your waiters.”

This brought a round of cheers from the audience.

“I’d rather have my waiter’s big tip,” Estelle said, ravenously eyeing the man with the huge penis who was now on his way toward our table.

When the waiter arrived, he was greeted with all kinds of jests and sexual slurs that made it almost impossible for him to take our orders. To his credit, he took it all in stride, even laughing along with us when Dr. Monroe bent her head down to inspect the thick slab of muscle that hung only inches from her face. She looked at it this way and that, commenting on its superb proportions, and comparing it to something that might be seen on one of Michelangelo’s statues.

“May I?” she said to him, as she brought one her hands underneath the huge shaft.

The handsome man was taken by surprise, but he allowed her do as she wished, watching in fascination as she hoisted the flaccid pole up so that it almost touched his muscular abdomen.

“What do you think?” she said, turning to my aunt. “In its erect state. Thirteen? Fourteen?”

“At least,” my aunt replied with a grin.

“And then some!” Justine added.

“I’m sorry,” Dr. Monroe said to the waiter. “I don’t…we don’t mean to embarrass you but this…this is quite some huge, fucking schlong!”

Hearing the word “schlong” coming from the doctor’s lips caused all of us to break into fits of uncontrollable laugher. She was, of course, drunk, as were most of the women at our table. Nonetheless, the use of the vernacular to describe the male appendage sounded especially funny coming from this otherwise demure and professional medical practitioner.

“Have you ever measured this thing,” the beautiful redhead asked him.

“As a matter of fact,” the young man replied unabashedly, “I have. It’s exactly fourteen and a half inches long.”

Dr. Monroe whistled through her teeth while the rest of us let out a collective gasp.

“Are you sure about that?”

“Absolutely,” he replied proudly.

I noticed a sense of haughtiness in him, as if in the manner in which he replied to the doctor’s questions, he had something to prove. The doctor let go of his penis and turned to face us, a look of mischief upon her face.

“I think it’s probably more like thirteen inches,” she said.

“Fourteen and a half,” he insisted.

“I don’t suppose you’d care to prove it,” she said looking up into his face.

Suddenly the entire table broke out into giggles at the lewd suggestion. The waiter himself looked completely shocked and at a loss for words. He stood there, vacillating.

“It’s okay young man,” Lenore said, noting his ambivalence. “Why don’t you just go and get us our drinks.”

Dr. Monroe protested. “Oh, you’re going to spoil my fun Lenore!”

“Well, he doesn’t seem to be in any hurry to show you,” she replied.

The waiter took a step back and took a long, appreciative look at the drunken doctor.

“Or do you?” Lenore asked him.

By this time the women sitting at a table in our immediate vicinity were beginning to take an interest in what was going on. They eyed the waiter, waiting to see what his response might be. One of the women was Felicia Antonetti.

“Go and do what the doctor tells you!” she said to him in her distinctive Italian accent. “Pronto! Pronto!”

The waiter gave the beautiful Italian woman a wan smile but didn’t budge.

“I’m telling you that my cock is exactly fourteen and a half inches long,” he said to Dr. Monroe, trying to sound convincing. “You’ll have to take my word for it.”

The doctor and several other women at our table chuckled.

“To hell with your word,” she said. “I need proof.”

“Well what do you expect me to do?” he said, almost whining. “Stroke it in front of everybody here?”

The doctor looked him squarely in the eyes. “Why don’t you?”

“Oh, man,” he said. “This is really weird!”

“Stroke it, or shut up and get us our drinks,” she said turning her back on him.

He looked expectantly from face to face, trying to decide what to do. I could tell she was getting a little tired of playing this game, and if it was going to go any further, it would have to be up to him.

Putting down his pen and tab he took his cock in his hand and began to move his fingers up and down its entire length.

“All right,” he said looking straight at her. “I’ll prove it to you.”

Dr. Monroe smiled. The thought of bringing yet another male under her control, and especially under these circumstances, made her feel sexy and powerful. Under normal circumstances, such a lewd display could never have occurred in this famous place. But this was a private function, forbidden to the public, and it was Lenore and the Sisterhood who were calling the shots. Even the proprietor had to acquiesce to the demands of my aunt and Lenore, who themselves had contributed vast amounts of money to keep the restaurant going when the owners could not pay the mortgage due to the restaurant falling upon hard times a few years ago. Even so, the blatant act was made no less spectacular by virtue of the slackened standards of its tolerant Sisterhood clientele.

As he masturbated himself, the women continued to engage in conversation, stopping at times to admire his deft manipulations of his penis, or to provoke him to stroke harder. It was amazing to see the effects of their words upon him. And as the amount of sexual slurs increased, so did the speed at which he drove his fist up and down his cock. Within only a few minutes, the unimposing and flaccid specimen had grown well over a foot long, until it now seemed too big to be real. The huge plum-like head of its corona could barely be contained in his hand, and he aimed it defiantly at Dr. Monroe.

“Well, go ahead,” he said. “Measure it.”

She looked at the monstrous prick with incredulity, amazed that the tangible reality of it surpassed whatever vision she had entertained in her own imagination.

“It’s so fucking big!” she laughed as she pulled out a small measuring tape from her purse.

My aunt looked at the tape and chuckled. “I don’t think that tape is going to be long enough.”

“You’d be surprised,” the doctor replied, as she extended the tape along the side of his penis.

“Holy shit,” she remarked. “He’s right! Fourteen and a half!”

“I told you,” he said.

She quickly put the tape away.

“I apologize for doubting you,” she said. Now take your hands away.”

“Why?”

“Just do it,” she said in a commanding voice.

He immediately removed his hands from his penis, allowing her to run her long, elegant fingers over the length of him.

“It feels so hot!” she observed, as she brought one of her hands underneath his cock to caress his bulging sac.

The rest of us watched in rapt fascination as Dr. Monroe played with the waiter’s penis. He would moan softly now and then as her lithe hands danced ever so lightly along the length of the stiff shaft. She, in turn, used a variety of maneuvers that she had no doubt employed when she was called upon to obtain a sperm sample from a reluctant patient, using both of her hands to stroke, rub, tickle, and tease him to distraction.

“You’d better not do that,” he said, unable to take his eyes off her stroking hands.

“Why not?”

“Because I might shoot off!”

She paused a moment to look up into his face. “Not without my permission you won’t.”

He was too overcome with the overpowering sensations provided by her handjob to offer any retort. He simply moaned again and let her do what she wished with him.

As she continued to toy with his genitals, several women from the adjoining table came toward us to get a better view of the proceedings.

“Come on over ladies,” my aunt said waving them on. “You’ve got to see this.”

Felicia was the first to lay her eyes on the waiter’s towering cock, the sight of which forced her to stop dead in her tracks.

“Mama mia!” she exclaimed. “That’s some sausage!”

There were seven other women standing directly behind her who were now jockeying to get a better look. One of them was the statuesque blonde, Greta Hofsteddar. She worked her way around the group of women and walked right up to the waiter, but her eyes never left his penis or the doctor’s hands, which were now feverishly working on it.

“Is that for real?” she said to Dr. Monroe.

“Feel for yourself,” the doctor replied, letting go of his penis.

The waiter’s face registered almost physical pain at the removal of the doctor’s hands, but was instantly rewarded by the introduction of Greta’s hand upon his penis.

“Oh, my God!” she screeched. “And I thought my husband was big!”

“He is!” Lenore admitted. “But not like this!”

“It’s obscene!” Greta laughed. “Do you need a license to carry this?” she teased him.

End of Chapter 5

Seeing that she was not going to finish her sentence, Angelique volunteered to provide the missing word.

“Dick,” she said bluntly.

At the mention of the word, all of us, including Delvin, had a laughing fit.

“Man, you just come out and say what you feel, don’t you?” he said to Angelique.

“Well, it’s the truth,” she replied in a matter-of-fact tone.

“Yeah, but…hey…are you putting me on?”

“Maybe a little,” she replied coyly as she lifted her long legs to rest on the coffee table.

“Maybe a lot!” Brittany laughed, aware as I was of Angelique’s deft and calculated maneuver.

It had the desired effect. Delvin’s eyes now rested upon her lovely limbs as he inhaled deeply.

“Where did you get legs like that?” he asked my cousin. “Half of your body is made up of those fine-looking stems.”

“It’s genetics,” Megan interjected. “Mrs. Anjou has nice legs too.”

“No argument here,” Delvin said. “But you know…all you girls have great legs and you’re all damned good-looking too.”

Megan saw this as an opportunity to remind him of his earlier promise.

“Pretty enough to be in one of your videos?”

“Maybe,” he said, unable to keep his eyes off Angelique’s legs.

I had to admit that I was a little bit jealous of my cousin’s long and beautifully sculptured legs. The only real difference between her legs and mine was that hers were about an inch or two longer. And it was due to this difference in height that made her legs seem more graceful than mine.

“So,” Delvin began, as he peered at us through the fog of marijuana. “Did you guys get off on watching me and Maria fuck?”

Megan, Brittany, and I laughed nervously, but confessed that we found their lovemaking a huge turn-on. Angelique’s response was to remove her shoes so that Delvin could get a good look at her sexy feet.

“I know Angelique enjoyed it,” I said, remembering how she had pleasured herself from watching him and Maria engage in sex.

“Oh, shut up, Holly,” she replied with an admonishing stare.

Delvin’s eyes now fell upon my cousin’s lovely feet with their long, well-proportioned toes and nails that were adorned with a lustrous pink polish. He sighed heavily and took another drag.

“No, it’s okay. It’s all right,” he said. “There’s nothing wrong with people getting off watching other people have sex. I do it all the time.”

“You do?” Megan asked, surprised.

“Absolutely. You see that rack over there? There’s nothing but adult movies in it.”

He pointed to a huge, black wall cabinet completely filled with DVDs.

“Wow,” Brittany said. “Can I see them?”

“Help yourself. You can all check them out.”

The four of us got up and went to inspect his private collection of porn while he continued to smoke.

“Hey, Angelique,” Megan said, drawing my cousin’s attention to a DVD she was holding in her hand. “You have this one too.”

Megan held up a DVD cover of a naked man being spanked by two well-dressed women. Delvin laughed.

“Hey, man! That’s my favorite movie! You into CFNM, Angelique?”

“She’s got tons of this stuff in her room,” I said, laughing at the fact that many of the DVDs contained a similar theme.

“No shit?” Delvin remarked.

“Yeah,” Angelique replied, giving me a nasty look. “No shit.”

Delvin enjoyed watching us sift through his collection as we sat on the floor in front of him. His vast library contained pornography of all sorts, but there was a preponderance of CFNM-related content, sometimes featuring men in submissive roles before one or more dominant women.

“Oh, I love this!” Brittany giggled as she handed a DVD to me.

“Which one is that?” Delvin asked.

I held up the DVD for him to see.

“Oh, that one!” he laughed. “That’s a classic!”

The cover featured a completely naked man with his hands on his erect penis, masturbating himself for the amusement of four attractive looking women who were standing around him. It looked like it was staged in someone’s apartment.

“He looks so stupid standing there like that naked,” Megan said, laughing at the picture.

“He’s supposed to look stupid,” Angelique said. “That’s the whole idea.”

Delvin took a final drag on his joint and chuckled.

“She’s got it,” he said. “Angelique knows what it’s all about.”

My cousin looked at him through the corner of her eyes and smiled.

“Well, I don’t understand,” Megan complained. “What’s so sexy about this picture?”

“Some guys like being controlled by women, Megan,” Angelique said. “It excites them. Get it?”

“I think it’s stupid.”

“You think everything is stupid.”

“Yeah, Megan,” Brittany chimed in. “You never want to try anything new. You always put everything down.”

“No, I don’t,” Megan protested.

“Yes, you do,” Angelique said. “Like that picture of that girl with the cum…”

Suddenly, Angelique stopped short, embarrassed that she had used a word she would not normally use when Delvin was around. Delvin, who had been mildly amused by their argument, now looked at us in a different light, as though he was getting to see, for the first time, the perverse little voyeurs we really were.

“What did you say, Angelique?” he asked her.

“You heard me,” she replied without looking at him.

“Did you say…cum?”

“Yeah, so what?”

“So finish what you were saying.”

Megan laughed. “She’s too embarrassed!”

“I’m not embarrassed,” my cousin said.

It was difficult to catch Angelique off her guard, and she had been clearly put on the spot by her faux pas. But, being the most adept at controlling her feelings, she soon regained her emotional equilibrium and went on the offensive once more.

“I was saying,” she began, giving Megan a sarcastic look, “that Megan got upset when she saw a picture of a girl with cum on her face. She thinks it’s gross.”

“Gross?” Delvin said to Megan. “That’s part of sex, girl. It’s no big deal.”

“Well, I don’t like it,” she replied. “And I don’t like these movies either.”

“How do you know that?” he asked. “Have you ever seen one of them?”

“No. Angelique hasn’t played any of them for us yet.”

“Then how do you know?”

Brittany grabbed Megan by the shoulder and shook her.

“See?” she said. “I told you she doesn’t like to try anything new.”

“That’s too bad,” Delvin said. “I think you might enjoy them.”

“Why don’t we play one?” I suggested, anxious to stop the bickering and curious myself to see what was so special about them.

“All right, Holly!” Delvin said with a big grin. “You girls up for it?”

“I am,” Brittany said.

“I’ve seen this stuff before,” Angelique said. “But if you want to play them, I’ll watch.”

“What about you, Megan?” Delvin asked her. “You might like it.”

Afraid of being accused any further that she was indeed a spoilsport, as Angelique had unmistakably pointed out, she reluctantly agreed to watch the DVD with us on the condition that if it offended her, she would leave.

“No problem, Megan,” Delvin agreed.

After searching through several different titles, we finally decided to watch the one Delvin had referred to as a “classic.” As the movie began, the four of us sat down on the floor around the TV, while Delvin remained in his armchair sipping a Coke.

The scene opened up with an attractive blonde man, probably in his early twenties, peering out from a partially opened closet door to spy on a pretty brunette woman, presumably his boss, who was at her desk happily conversing with someone on the phone. From his vantage point, the man could see the woman’s sexy legs, which were crossed at the knee, and the camera focused on his face and then her legs to let the audience know that this was his particular fetish. As she talked, he let his pants and underwear fall down around his ankles, exposing his erect penis. In no time at all he was masturbating furiously.

“Oh, God,” Brittany exclaimed. “That’s so funny!”

All of us started to laugh as the camera focused on his huge erection and then on the woman’s legs. Suddenly, the man sneezed and lost his balance. He came tumbling out of the closet, tripping over his own pants, and fell down flat on his face in front of the horrified woman. The look on his face was priceless as he struggled to get to his feet.

“Guys are such perverts,” Megan said, unable to take her eyes off the screen.

This made Delvin laugh.

“And I suppose you watching this movie don’t make you a little bit of a pervert too?”

Megan shrugged, but said nothing.

The blonde man was now being reprimanded by his boss, and with his pants and underwear still around his ankles, he was ordered to straddle her desk so that she could administer a spanking to his bare ass. Before she did this however, she called in three other women—all of similar age and very attractive—to observe his punishment.

Taking up seats around the desk, the women watched as the helpless young man was given a robust spanking by his boss, which she seemed to thoroughly enjoy. After giving him about 20 solid whacks with her bare hand, she then ordered him to stand in front of her desk and masturbate himself to orgasm while all of them watched. As the four women sat with their legs crossed in front of the desk, the man jerked his penis for a few minutes until it was clear that he was going to ejaculate. The camera then moved behind him so that all you could see was the back of his head and the four laughing women sitting on the opposite side of the desk. They teased him for a few minutes, calling him all kinds of nasty names, but never once did he stop masturbating himself.

Suddenly, from the bottom of the screen, a long, white blur of sperm shot up and outward onto the desk, splashing into a stack of papers. The women screamed with laughter and so did we.

“Did you see that?” Brittany said, entranced.

Another creamy blast followed the first one, this time shooting so far that it hit the bare legs of his boss who was sitting directly opposite him.

“Oh, Freddie!” his boss complained. “You disgusting pig! You’re going to pay for this!”

“Ha!” Angelique laughed. “He’s giving her a sperm shower!”

“Wait! Wait!” Delvin interrupted. “There’s more. Watch this!”

No sooner had the words escaped his mouth than Freddie let out a huge groan and we watched in awe as three huge, gooey ropes of semen shot out, one after the other, high into the air, and came splashing down onto the desk below, forming three separate and slimy puddles of white.

“Oh, my God!” I said, amazed to see one man shoot so much sperm.

The women in the video laughed excitedly—as we did—upon seeing this spectacular cumshot. And to the combined teasing of his tormentors, Freddie’s cock exploded yet again, sending another half dozen bursts of creamy ejaculate careening into the desk, where it formed several white pools of pasty residue. At last, his orgasm ended and he was told that he was fired. The women then pushed him out of the office, still half-dressed and his penis dripping with sperm. I had never seen anything so funny or strangely erotic in my life.

“Didn’t I tell you it was a classic?” Delvin said, as he laughed along with us.

During all this time, Megan was unable to remove her eyes from the TV screen. More than any of us, she seemed more preoccupied with the video she had just seen, and I could tell something was on her mind.

“Do guys really ejaculate like that?” she asked Delvin.

“Some do,” he replied.

“Well, it didn’t seem real to me.”

“Oh, it’s real all right,” he assured her. “I can tell fake cum right off.”

“Are you sure? It seemed like somebody was squeezing a bottle of hand lotion off camera to make it look like the real thing.”

“I’m telling you it’s real,” he insisted.

“How do you know?”

“I know because…I can cum like that myself sometimes. Even better.”

The four of us looked at each other sheepishly, grinning at his implication.

“Oh sure, Delvin!” Brittany said in an accusatory tone. “You can really have an orgasm like that?”

“What’s so strange about it?” he said. “There are a few guys in the porn industry who can cum like that.”

“Maybe, but it still looks fake to me.”

“Some of it might be fake,” he said thoughtfully. “But what you just saw was 100% real.”

“How do they get it to cum so much?” I asked him.

“Well, usually if a guy hasn’t had an orgasm in a long time, and if he’s teased for a while, that’ll produce a cumshot like the one you just saw.”

Megan looked at me just then with a very sly look, as though she were planning something.

“Can we see some more?” she asked Delvin.

“Sure,” he replied. “Put on anything you want.”

For the next hour we sat through what must have constituted half of what was Delvin’s CFNM library. The pot was being passed around again and all of us were getting quite high. Most of the videos featured similar scenarios to the one we had watched earlier; sometimes the element of female dominance was overt, sometimes very subtle. Usually, a naked guy would end up masturbating in front of a group of clothed women, or sometimes one or several women would end up masturbating him. Even though most of the videos ended in this way, we never got tired of seeing the different faces and the ways in which the guys would jerk their dicks for the amusement of the women. After one very long and voluminous orgasm, which resulted in several women being christened at once, Megan turned to Delvin with a questioning look in her eyes.

“So, can you really cum like that?”

Angelique, Brittany, and I looked at each other and then at Megan, unaccustomed to hear her speak in such direct terms. By this time, Delvin was sitting with one leg propped up on the arm of his chair. It appeared to me like he had an erection.

“Probably,” he said modestly, as one of his hands came to rest near his crotch. “It’s been almost a week since I came.”

“Wow,” she replied. “So you must have a lot stored up.”

Her eyes fell to his crotch, where one of his hands was busy grabbing his hard-on.

“Are you kidding me?” he laughed. “Guys make billions of sperm every day. If I wasn’t so tired from doing all these recording sessions, I’d be jacking off every chance I got.”

Angelique, I noticed, purposely remained aloof during this interrogation, curious to see how far Megan was willing to take things. The most reserved and easily offended of the four of us, she was now, however, acting very promiscuous. This was, no doubt due to the influence of the marijuana we had all been smoking. But I think the drug also unlocked some sexual feelings within her that she normally kept repressed. To see her take more of an aggressive role was refreshing, but Angelique wouldn’t let her enjoy her newfound position for very long.

“Are you tired now, Delvin?” my cousin suddenly asked as she lifted both of her bare feet to rest on his knees.

“No way,” he replied, admiring the view.

“Angelique, you’re such a big tease!” Brittany laughed.

Delvin was now stroking his cock through his pants, as he let one hand caress the beautiful prize resting on his knee. He didn’t seem to care one bit that his massive erection was visible to all of us, and at Angelique’s suggestion he let her play with his cock, running her toes all over his shaft until he was quite distracted. I had to admire her manipulative skills. She was a master of getting people to do her bidding, and they often had no clue that they were even being manipulated.

“Those movies made you horny, didn’t they?” she teased him. “Look how big you are!”

She let her toes run up and down his prick very quickly, forcing him to moan loudly.

“Yes,” he replied, surrendering to the pleasure of her lovely feet deftly working his shaft.

Delvin ran his hands up and down her legs, intoxicated by her power over him.

“Mmm…that feels nice,” she purred as she tilted her head back, enjoying the massage.

“Whatever turns you on, baby,” he said.

Angelique turned to me suddenly with a devilish grin on her face.

“You know what would really turn me on?” she said. “No, I mean…turn us “all “on?”

Knowing something wild was about to be hatched from that wicked imagination of hers, I started laughing.

“What’s that?” he asked, amused.

My cousin stole a look at Megan.

“Tell him,” she said.

Megan wasn’t prepared to have my cousin defer to her, but it made no difference to the brown-eyed beauty, who now faced the handsome boy with her legs crossed and her hands holding the cover of the DVD we had just watched.

“Are you sure, Angelique?” she asked.

“Tell him,” my cousin said firmly.

“I…I mean, we,” she began a little nervously, “would like you to…you know…do what that guy did in the video.”

I don’t know how she and my cousin had hatched this idea, but at some point it must have been discussed between them. Brittany and I looked at each other and broke out laughing.

“Yeah,” Angelique said as she prodded his balls with her big toe, “we want you to make it squirt like a fountain.”

“A fountain of cum!” Brittany squealed, surprised that she had spoken in such an explicit fashion.

I was laughing so hard I couldn’t even speak.

Delvin laughed along with us, barely believing what he had heard as his eyes went from one laughing face to another.

“You girls are unreal,” he said. “You really want to do this CFNM thing?”

“Why not?” Angelique said, using her toes to push down his trunks so that we could see his cock. “You’re halfway there now!”

Delvin sat there dumbfounded as Angelique continued to tease his cock with her feet.

“And what are the four of you going to do?” he asked.

“We’re going to sit right here and watch you,” she replied with a wide grin.

“We could do more than that,” Delvin said, as the pleasurable sensations of Angelique’s footjob were starting to get to him.

“No,” she said firmly. “No sex. We just want to watch you jerk off for us.”

“Yeah, come on, Delvin,” Brittany said, trying to persuade him. “Whip it out.”

Delvin seemed a bit dismayed that his chances of having sex with any one of us were squelched by Angelique’s injunction. However, after more taunting from all of us, he agreed to give us the show we were demanding from him.

“We really couldn’t see too much of you from the other room,” I said as he began to pull his bathing suit off without getting up from the chair.

“What she means is that we couldn’t see too much of your dick,” Brittany laughed.

“Well,” he said as the trunks came off, “I hope you’re not disappointed.”

What sprang into view just then was as impressive as anything I had seen on Angelique’s DVDs. It actually looked bigger than what I remembered seeing during his lovemaking with Maria.

The four of us giggled as we watched the thick, black shaft stand up stiff and straight, pointing toward the ceiling. Delvin cradled his erect cock in his hand, rubbing his finger over the shaft and glans, proud of its size and girth.

“”How do you keep it in your pants?” Angelique laughed, impressed at his prick’s massive size.

I noticed that she kept her feet in close proximity to his crotch but did not touch him. Megan looked a bit apprehensive at the sight of his erect cock, but Brittany and I sat there mesmerized.

“How long is it?” I ask him.

“Just over ten inches,” he replied proudly.

“Holly thought you were over a foot long when she saw you through the peep holes,” Brittany said, watching contentedly as his hands began to stroke his towering shaft.

Delvin smiled. “I tried a penis pump once but it didn’t make me any bigger. This is it.”

“It’s enough!” Angelique commented, as she leaned forward to watch him masturbate.

His cock was a most attractive specimen. In addition to its impressive length, Delvin’s penis was thick and satiny, the huge glans a lovely purple/black color that looked like a fat Portobello mushroom sitting atop its massive stalk. I observed that his testicles were quite large, not hanging down low in their sac, but elevated close to his body; the skin taught and smooth, like two, ripe, oversized plums. I could only imagine that they must have been hard at work making “billions of sperm,” as he put it, and wondered what awaited us when he finally brought himself to orgasm.