Butterfly Ch. 03
*Chapter III: Wild Night Out*
It was a quiet Friday afternoon and Sherry was at work updating yet another client database. Data entry was not in her job description, but as she often said, “If I don”t do it, it won”t get done.” The letters and numbers began to blur together as she plowed her way through the endless list of contact information. When her phone rang, she jumped as if startled from sleep.
“LifeWorks, Sherry speaking.”
“Hey sexy, whatcha wearing? Is the receptionist busy under your desk again?”
Sherry was suddenly wide awake. She covered the mouthpiece like she was hiding a secret. “Shh, Kyle, you pervert! Anybody could pick up this line!”
“Would you really mind if Trish heard that?” Kyle replied.
Sherry blushed. “Maybe. What”s up?”
“Why don”t you skip out early so we can run away?”
“What are we running from and where are we running to?”
“We”re running from the conventional humdrum of everyday life and we”re running to something exotically different.”
“Hmm, sounds mysteriously intriguing, kinda like a bad commercial. But do we have to leave early?”
“Where we”re going, we need to beat traffic. Is that practical enough for you?”
“Sure is.” Sherry glanced at the clock – 3:45. “But first I”ve got to finish one more thing. Meet you at my place around… oh, 5?”
“That”s not very early.” Kyle complained.
“I know, but these people pay me money, and they”d kinda like it if I did some work.”
“The fiends. Ok, five o”clock it is, my sweet, but not one minute later.”
“Alright, Romeo; I”ve gotta go. Love ya, babe. See you soon.”
“Love you too, snookums. Oh, and Sherry?”
“Yeah?”
“Don”t forget to find some clothes before you go outside. And say hi to Trish for me!” _click_
“Dork,” said Sherry with a smirk as she hung up the phone. Kyle hadn”t mentioned that dream since Monday when she had first told him about it. Over dinner that evening, he had asked her if she had meant what she said about other women. She was a little embarrassed talking about it once the moment had passed, but she admitted that it had “crossed her mind”. For the last few days, they had both been too busy with their respective jobs to even get in a quickie, much less delve into fantasies.
She wondered about his mysterious phone call. The raunchy jokes were unusual for Kyle. If his intent was to get her thinking about that very erotic dream, he succeeded. She remembered how real the dream was, how she could almost feel the plush upholstery on her bare skin as she sat in her office naked, doing something very naughty and not caring who saw. A slight flush came to her cheeks when she realized she was in the same chair, typing on the same computer, her legs under the same desk as in the dream. She suddenly found it hard to keep running down those long rows of names. When Trish herself walked by Sherry”s open office door in her tight Friday jeans, Sherry lost her concentration entirely.
“Aw, screw it,” she sighed. She shut down her computer, made a lame excuse to her boss (”He owes me plenty anyway”), then smiled and wished Trish a nice weekend on the way out. “If she only knew,” Sherry mused.
Sherry figured that Kyle would be waiting for her, eager to make up for their lack of love making the past few days. She was looking forward to it, and her pulse quickened with anticipation as she waited for the turning light at the entrance of the apartment complex. However, she didn”t see Kyle”s car in front of the building and found a note on the inside welcome mat:
You”re early! Ran to the ATM – be right back.
I picked out some clothes for you.
XOXO Kyle
Sherry headed for the bedroom and found her suggested wardrobe. On the bed, Kyle had laid out a slinky black club dress with thin spaghetti straps and a zipper down the front to the waist. It had almost been too short when she bought it and then shrank in the wash. She hadn”t worn it in months and intended to get rid of it. Kyle knew all of this – he was the one who had missed the “dry clean only” label – but there it was waiting for her on the bed. “Curioser and curioser…” she mumbled. Beside the dress was another note:
C”mon, it”ll be fun. 
XXX Kyle
“I wouldn”t wanna spoil the fun.” Sherry quickly slipped out of her conservative business attire (customer reps don”t get casual Fridays) and into the skimpy outfit, then had a look in the bathroom”s full-length mirror.
“Oh, my…” Sherry mumbled when she saw much more of her skin than she usually showed in public. She had bought the dress because she knew she had shapely shoulders and the thin straps accented them nicely. The built-in bustier also showed off her cleavage to great effect. However, it was shorter than it used to be and her legs seemed awfully bare. Sherry turned around and then noticed with alarm that the bottom of the tight dress barely covered the rise of her ass. Fun or no fun, she had second thoughts about leaving the apartment with her butt almost hanging out. Besides, the first cold front of the fall had blown into Florida and it would be a bit cool tonight. She was about to look through the closet for something else when she heard a key turn in the front lock.
“Honey, I”m home!” called Kyle down the hall. His smiling face soon appeared in the bedroom door, and his eyes widened when he saw Sherry in the little black dress. “Yazza!” he said, “I”ve gotta sit down!” He plopped on the nearby comfy chair and admired her some more.
Sherry noticed that he was wearing his tight black jeans and a tropical camp shirt over a white tank-type undershirt. He was underdressed compared to her, but she found him almost irresistible in each of those 3 pieces of clothing, more so all at once. She suspected he knew this. She playfully strutted over and sat on his lap.
“So where”s my sexy hunk of a man going to whisk away little ol” me, sugar?” she cooed coyly, kissing his forehead and running her finger around the smooth tan skin showing above his undershirt. Ever since they had seen _Gone with the Wind_ at a film festival a few weeks before, they often slipped into caricatures of Scarlett and Rhett when playing mischievously naughty.
“Well, Scarlett, I wanted to take you down to the barn and see what”s under your petticoat, but since we don”t have a barn, I decided to take you down to the shore and try it there.”
“Fiddle-ee-dee, Rhett Butler, I”ll have you know I don”t even own a petticoat. But if you help me get my things together, I”ll show you what I do have.” Sherry got up and began throwing stuff in an overnight bag. Kyle grinned and watched until Sherry hit him squarely on the nose with pair of socks, after which he got up and helped out.
Sherry remembered that she was wearing an almost indecent outfit just as locked her front door. She paused, looked over at Kyle sitting in his sporty little car, and finished turning the key. “Aw, it”ll be fun,” she told herself, and hopped in.
A little later, Kyle was driving through traffic on the coastal highway while Sherry listened to the radio and watched the sun set over the water. They wore their matching black leather bomber jackets everyone thought were so cute. Sherry still didn”t know where they were going exactly.
“Can I inquire which beach we”re headed for?” she asked.
“Nope. We”re going to have a nice dinner, then getting us a room,” he smirked. “And I thought we”d stop somewhere along the way.”
“Where?” She was a little hungry and was looking forward to a good meal.
He responded with a secretive smile and raised eyebrows. As she considered all the clues from the phone call to the clothes to the out of the way route, she was glad she trusted Kyle so completely. With someone else, she may have felt anxiety or even fear. Here with Kyle, she felt only growing excitement and anticipation.
She didn”t have to wait long. Kyle soon slowed down as they neared what looked like a big tiki bar on a small strip of sand between the road and the bay. Goosebumps rose on Sherry”s skin when she saw the sign out front: “Beach Bunnies: Florida”s Finest Exotic Dancers”. Kyle pulled into the mostly empty parking lot and stopped.
“Do you want to go in?” he asked seriously. “The crowd won”t get here for a couple hours and I thought it”d be fun…” His expression grew concerned as if he thought he might have made a big mistake.
“It”s not some trashy dump, is it?” she asked nervously.
“No, no; it”s nothing like that. My friends dragged me out here when I turned 18. It”s pretty clean and respectable. Plus, women get in free before seven. But if you don”t want to go in, we could just keep driving; I won”t mind. I just thought…”
“No, it”s alright,” Sherry said, putting her hand on his and seeing his troubled face relax. “There”s hardly anybody here, and if it”s free, it”s for me, right? Let”s go; just don”t tell my mommy, ok?”
Kyle smiled. “Ok, but you can”t tell mine, either. Deal?”
“Deal.”
Kyle parked near the entrance and they walked toward the heavily tinted glass door. A gust of wind came off the water and chilled Sherry”s bare legs, making her remember how little she was wearing. “I”m probably overdressed for _thi_s place,” she thought hopefully. Kyle held the door open and Sherry braced herself before going in.
Instead of the expected female flesh, she saw a balding fat guy reading a book on a stool behind a cash register. A floor-length dark blue curtain blocked the way to the left. Muffled dance music came from that direction, making the air throb.
“8 bucks,” said the man nonchalantly, and Kyle gave him the money “Enjoy yourself,” he said as he handed back the change and picked up his paperback. Kyle took Sherry”s hand and led the way through the curtain.
Sherry was aware of a stage and people moving about, but she kept her eyes on Kyle”s back as they headed for a booth against the back wall. They sat and Sherry looked around, her eyes wide open and darting nervously. On a narrow, brightly-lit stage, she saw her first live nude girl: a blond with smallish breasts and a tuft of dark pubic hair swaying lazily to the music wearing only a garter belt and high heels. A few men sat along the edge of the stage gawking and waving bills. In the darker recesses of the room, other women in various stages of undress milled about a handful of shadowy figures sitting at other tables and booths.
Kyle seemed just as nervous as Sherry, and they both sat in silence until being approached by a petite Asian girl wearing a long white kimono that seemed relatively modest for this environment.
“Would you like something to drink?” she asked.
“Um, I”ll have a beer,” said Kyle.
“Brandy, please,” said Sherry. When the waitress turned to leave, they saw that her kimono had no back at all. The dress ended just below her neck, and nothing blocked their view of her brown skin from her shoulder blades to her feet. Her bare ass swayed seductively as she walked away.
“They must not pay too well,” said Kyle.
“What?” asked Sherry, realizing she had been straining her eyes to follow the waitress in the dimness.
“I said they must not pay well, her not being able to afford complete pieces of clothing.”
“Ha, ha,” said Sherry with a smirk. She knew Kyle was trying to relax her (and himself) with his typically dry humor, and it did make her more at ease. The waitress soon returned with two small glasses. As Kyle paid the ridiculous tab, Sherry tried to peek at the girls” backside, wishing she could see more. In another second, the waitress turned and slinked her naked ass to another table.
Sherry sipped her drink and felt the warm sensation in her throat. She looked back up to the stage. The blond had wiggled her way over in front of a heavy middle-aged man waving a five dollar bill. The girl let him slip the money into her garter belt, then squatted and gyrated her crotch right in front of his face for a few seconds before smiling and moving on. Sherry felt herself blush and nervously gulped down the rest of her drink. She thought about going up to the dancer with a bill herself, but she didn”t dare with those sleazy-looking men surrounding the stage.
The blond left the stage to scattered applause and a very skinny brunette girl with a black feather boa replaced her. She shook her bare chest for the crowd but there wasn”t much to jiggle.
“Do any of the girls here have more than mosquito bites?” Sherry said out loud, then thought, “The brandy couldn”t be working this fast, could it?” to herself.
Kyle pried his eyes from the blond still lingering by the stage. “What are you talking about?”
“The dancers and the waitress look nice but they have boobs the size of mosquito bites. Are they all like that here?” Sherry realized she”d never shared her personal breast-size vocabulary with anyone. The brandy couldn”t be working _that_ quickly, could it?
Kyle seemed to notice the interesting term and cleared his throat. “I dunno, but there”s another room upstairs we could check out. Wanna go?”
“Sure.”
They got up and headed for a staircase against the back wall. Along the way, Sherry noticed that some of the girls were writhing almost naked on top of men in dark booths away from the stage lights. She was astonished at first when she thought they were having sex, but then realized that the men were actually fully clothed. “So that”s a lap dance,” she thought, and wondered what it would feel like to be either participant.
When they emerged from the narrow staircase, they found themselves on a deck area covered by a palm frond roof. Three of the walls were covered in palmetto thatch, and the forth was open screen facing the dark bay. Loud rock n” roll music blared through large speakers, but the only others sharing the cool night air were a female bartender and two dancers talking on barstools under an electric heater.
“Not much here,” said Kyle as they sat on a padded bench along the wall.
“Let”s stay for a minute,” said Sherry. One of the girls had caught her eye even though her back was turned. She was tall and tan with jet-black hair and was wearing a white fishnet t-shirt, high-cut white bikini bottoms, and white sneakers with short socks. The other girl, a skinny creamy-skinned redhead, was wearing short denim shorts and a very tiny cut-off t-shirt. The redhead noticed Sherry staring and let her friend know about her admirer. The brunette turned to look, then smiled seductively and walked over. Sherry”s heart leapt like a lonely girl at the prom receiving unexpected attention from the star quarterback.
“Hi, there” she said as she approached. “I”m Maria. Wanna dance?”
Sherry found herself tongue-tied, her eyes pulled to Maria”s dark nipples under her barely-there white top. “Umm…”
Kyle jumped in. “Sure, go for it, babe. That”s why we”re here. I”ve got you covered.”
“What do you say, “babe”?” Maria asked. “I see you staring. Want some of this?” She zipped her t-shirt over her head, then bent over and put her hand on Sherry”s shoulder so that her beautiful full breasts hung right in Sherry”s face. Her touch was electric. Sherry nodded. “Ok, babe,” said Maria with a wry smirk. “I”ll be gentle.”
Maria sat facing Sherry straddling Sherry”s right leg. She put both her hands on Sherry”s shoulders and began to slide up and down Sherry”s upper thigh. Sherry clenched her thigh muscles to give the dancer something firm to press against and felt Maria”s bikini-covered crotch rub against her own smooth skin.
Sherry”s temperature was rising but she sat nervous and stiff with her hands bracing herself on the bench. Kyle had moved to a chair a few feet away. The pale redhead came over to talk to him, but Sherry couldn”t hear what they were saying over the music. The redhead”s shirt was so short that Sherry saw the rise of her small breasts whenever she moved her arms.
Maria noticed that Sherry was distracted. The dancer leaned forward, laying her breasts on Sherry”s collarbones and her face to Sherry”s ear. “Ever tasted hot pussy?” Maria whispered breathily.
“No…”
“You should; it”s fucking great.” Maria suddenly lunged her torso back and her waist forward, pushing her knee under the hem of Sherry”s short dress and bumping the front of Sherry”s panties. Sherry gasped, her crotch instantly soaked.
Maria did it again, this time a little harder, and arched her torso farther back, making her breasts stick up and out. Sherry stared longingly at Maria”s sexy curvy body. When the dancer”s knee again pushed forward under her dress, Sherry impulsively reached up and squeezed Maria”s breast. It was warm and soft and luscious. Maria smiled. “Go ahead, babe; feel me up.” Sherry touched Maria”s nipple with her thumb and felt it harden a bit.
“Hold on,” said Maria abruptly and got up. Sherry thought she had crossed the line and the dancer was leaving, but her heart leapt again when she realized Maria was stripping completely. “You ready?” asked Maria as she wrapped her panties around her bicep. Sherry”s eyes flew to the dancer”s completely shaved slit. It was beautiful, and her own pussy cried out for attention.
Glancing behind Maria, Sherry was a bit shocked to see the redhead sitting on Kyle, her back to him as she rubbed her ass against his lap. As she moved, her shirt occasionally rode up far enough that her nipples peeked out. To her mild surprise, she didn”t feel at all jealous but actually became more aroused watching the slender girl writhe against her boyfriend.
Maria turned around to sit on Sherry”s lap facing out. While staring at the dancer”s beautiful round ass, Sherry impulsively pulled her panties down to her knees and yanked up the hem of her dress in one quick motion, letting the dancer”s bare ass come to rest on her upper thigh and trimmed pubic hair. Maria seemed pleasantly surprised. “You”re a real wildcat,” she said with a smile and leaned back against Sherry. She began to hunch her ass against Sherry”s crotch like the redhead was doing with Kyle, except in this case skin was touching skin. Maria grabbed Sherry”s hands to place them on her bare breasts, and Sherry squeezed them tenderly. She felt her panties slipping down to her calves and didn”t care.
Sherry glanced over at Kyle. The redhead had taken off her top. Sherry watched the pale dancer bounce on her boyfriend”s lap, her small freckled breasts jiggling about. The redhead looked over at Maria and, seemingly trying to keep up, got up momentarily to unbutton her shorts and pull them down almost to her knees, revealing that she wasn”t wearing anything underneath. She turned and smiled at Kyle, then sat on his lap and resumed her grinding while Kyle closed his eyes and enjoyed her work.
Sherry felt just a tinge of jealousy but had an idea. She held her knees tightly together so that her panties slid down to her ankles, then slipped them off completely with her feet. She adjusted her sitting angle so that she faced Kyle and let her knees relax and separate, guiding Maria”s knees apart at the same time. She tingled with anticipation, waiting for him to look her way and catch an eyeful of Maria”s open pussy right above her own.
Kyle opened his eyes, then opened them wider when he saw the intended view. He whispered in the redhead”s ear. She smiled and they turned their chair to face Sherry directly. The redhead stopped bouncing and slipped her shorts down to her ankles, then slowly spread her legs wide apart. She covered her cunny coyly for a second, then moved her hand to expose her pink slit surrounded by a thin shock of curly orange hair. The dancer ran a single finger up her flat belly, between her breasts, and to her lip while starting to hump Kyle again, smiling seductively at Sherry the whole time. For a brief instant, Sherry wished that her boyfriend”s cock was sliding in and out that fiery cunt for all to see.
It was all too much. Beads of sweat ran down Sherry”s brow despite the cool night air. Her pulse pounded in her head. “I”m gonna come,” she whispered in Maria”s ear, and Maria responded by grinding her ass even harder against Sherry”s slippery slit. Maria spread her legs farther open, pushing Sherry”s thighs wide open as well, and Sherry felt the touch of another woman on her pussy for the first time as the dancer reached down and briefly brushed her clit.
“Lower it all the way down!” Marie laughed joyously.
“No!” the man screamed as his feet touched the hot liquid.
Within seconds the lower half of his naked body was below the surface and he cried out in pain.
“It’s hot! It’s hot!” he yelled over and over again.
“Shut up you son of a bitch or we’ll leave you under there forever!” Marie threatened.
I looked quickly at Yvette to see her reaction. There was none.
“How can you remain so indifferent to all this?” I asked.
“You must remember that this is only a vision of what “might” be, not what “will” be.”
“I don’t care. I still find it repulsive.”
I had always found cruelty in any form extremely distasteful, but seeing these women, these supposed “enlightened” Sisters, behave in such a barbaric fashion made me view them as far less evolved than the men they were persecuting. In my view, punishment never seemed to be a very effective tool for getting people to act ethically. A system of rewards based upon support and encouragement seemed to be a far more fruitful approach to the age-old question of social conditioning.
The lever had now been lowered so far that the man’s entire body below the neck was submerged in the hot, steaming vileness. His face was contorted in pain and tears were running down his cheeks.
“Let me out! Let me out!” he pleaded.
Marie’s answer was to lower him further into the pool.
“Drink!” she ordered as the lever descended.
The fluid rose up above his chin, and as it reached his mouth I saw him inhale a great draught of air even as the sperm rose up above his nose and eyes and finally over his head entirely, completely submerging him.
“Ten, nine, eight…” Marie began counting as the others joined in. “seven, six, five, four, three, two…one! Lift him up!”
The Sister at the control panel pressed a button that slowly lifted the lever out of the pool as the entire assemblage cheered and applauded. As the man’s head came up out of the wash, a great stream of sperm shot out of his mouth. He coughed and spat up even more of the milky effluence as though his mouth had become a lotion dispenser. His entire face and body was awash in semen and I watched as he took in great gulps of air, grateful to be removed from the awful liquid.
“And again!” Marie announced gleefully.
The man’s face grew horrified at the thought of a second dunking as he tried to free himself once again.
“No, please!” I’ve learned my lesson,” he implored. “I’ll never do it again!”
On and on he went, hurriedly trying to get the words out even as the lever once more made its way down into the pool.
“I promise Sisters,” he shouted as the liquid once again cascaded over his body. “I promise to obey! I promise…”
It was too late. The sperm had now covered his mouth and nose and he was once more totally submerged.
The women were delirious with joy as they heard the man’s final words dissipate into the molten glue that now covered his body. Again Marie led the countdown and the man was then released up into the air, his feet resting on the pool’s surface.
Before the man could utter a word, he found himself once again on his way into the pool, still coughing up sperm and screaming in agony. And the more he screamed, the more pleasure the women seemed to take from it.
“Not again,” I uttered, shaking my head with disbelief. “It’s disgusting.”
I watched in horror as the man’s body once more disappeared into the brackish liquid. This time he didn’t even have enough time to utter a single word before being submerged. This, of course, made all the women cheer all the more loudly, and to their delight, Marie let the count go to twenty.
“They’ll kill him,” I said, feeling great sympathy for the tortured man.
For what seemed like an indeterminable time, they kept the man submerged. Only when I heard Marie say, “Let him up!” did the lever finally rise above the surface, but this time the man barely moved. Layers of thick, creamy sperm dripped off his body in disgustingly huge clumps, hitting the surface below with loud smacks. His eyes were closed but from his mouth poured out rivulets of semen. He tried to cough up as much of it as he could, but he must have swallowed several pints of the horrible brew. It appeared the punishment was over.
“Can we please go now?” I asked Yvette. “You’ve made me sick to my stomach.”
“I’m sorry you had to see this, but it was necessary.”
“What kind of people could allow this to happen?”
She looked at me in her cryptic fashion but said nothing.
With the punishment now concluded, my guide led me to another set of stairs leading to the floor below. She warned me that from here on in, the things that I would see and witness would take on an ever more disquieting appearance, but that I should not allow myself to be troubled by them but only to watch and learn. This was little comfort to me after what I had just seen, but I nevertheless wanted to accommodate her wishes, as I felt that I had something to learn from it all—something she felt compelled to teach me.
The staircase was much like the one we had used to arrive at the floor above, except that it formed one, huge, winding arc that seemed to go on forever. When we finally set foot on the rocky surface at the end of the stairway my feet were actually tired.
During our descent the strident cries of people in distress greeted us, with an occasional jeer or command rising above the rancor. It sounded to me like there were hundreds of voices echoing throughout the gloomy stairwell, some wailing, others laughing, but all tainted with the sound of some otherworldly malignance. At some point during our journey I began to experience a profound fear, and I startled Yvette when I suddenly grabbed her hand for reassurance.
“Do not be afraid,” she said in a soothing voice. “Nothing can harm you here.”
“It’s the voices. They sound so awful.”
“Let us see,” she said, dragging me reluctantly behind her.
I was not prepared for what now loomed before me—a vast subterranean chamber that was more than twice the size of the one from which we had just exited, and filled with hundreds of men and women positioned in various places within the immense cavern. The men of course were completely naked. Some were chained to the rock face, spread-eagled and left unattended. Others were being tortured with the lash or forced to act as living furniture for their mistresses, one man’s body even used as a human bridge to span a three-foot gap between two adjacent platforms over which the women constantly trod.
I saw all kinds of devices being employed in which to entrap the men, some of which I had never seen before. Some, like the rack or the Iron Maiden I had seen in history books, but the bulk of the other contraptions were something that could only have been invented by some demented and perverse genius. I could not fathom their design or purpose other than those poor souls who were trapped inside them appeared to suffer great agony, and Yvette had to use all her healing skills upon me to keep my mind from delving into madness.
The women seemed to go about their torturing business with great relish, salivating over every wound inflicted upon their foes, either verbally or by physical attack. Many of the men’s backs were a disgusting mosaic of open wounds and welts that formed a canvas of black, blue, and red—testament to the unbridled rage of their whip-bearing tormentors. Bodies were torn on racks, stretched on the wheel, and, worst of all, cut into tiny fragments on a thing called the “harrow,” a device with hundreds of exquisite, razor-sharp blades that made machine-like incisions into the epidermis and then worked its way by degrees downward into the deeper tissues. It was so gruesome that I was felt like I was going to retch.
“What in God’s name did these men do to deserve this?” I cried.
“These are the men who employed physical violence upon the Sisterhood. It is the second greatest offense a man can commit.”
“The second greatest offense?” I asked bewildered. “What’s the first?”
“You will see.”
“Are they going to die?”
“I suppose that would depend upon the severity of their transgression.”
In one corner of the cavern a man was being forced to sodomize another man, while another was sitting bent over at the waist, his long penis with its tip firmly planted in his mouth while two women furiously masturbated him.
“He called me a whore,” one of the women said menacingly as she roughly tugged away at the swollen shaft.
“And he called me a bitch,” said the other woman. “Can you imagine that? This little piece of shit calling me a bitch?”
The two angry women were almost twice the size of the man, and while one of their hands was occupied with jerking him off, their free hands kept both his legs up toward his midsection and simultaneously forced his head down upon his cock so that they could force as much of his prick into his mouth. The more buxom of the two women, a brunette with a very beautiful face, grabbed his hair and began to shove his head up and down very quickly once she sensed he was nearing orgasm. The other woman responded by gripping his cock firmly under the corona, pushing the tip of his cock as far up as she could into his gasping mouth.
“Hey girls!” the brunette said to several women standing nearby. “Come and watch this. The son of a bitch is going to pop!”
Six or seven women quickly ran over to watch the spectacle, leaning in closely to observe the forced milking.
“We’re going to watch you eat your own sperm,” said the brunette. “And I hope you choke on it you fucking bastard!”
With several more vicious pulls on his hair, she forced his head down and held it there while the other woman fisted him with a series of rapid bursts. I watched as his huge balls convulsed and rose up in toward his body, and knew that the sperm was now on its way up through his tortured shaft. The women knew it too and laughed mercilessly as the man’s face turned red in his effort to breathe between the unrelenting stroking.
“If I see one drop of sperm,” said the brunette, “just one, we’re going to do it all over again.”
The man made some feeble gesture of understanding and prepared himself for the onslaught.
“He hasn’t ejaculated in two weeks,” said the woman pumping his prick to the other women standing around. “We made sure the fluffs got to him several times each day without giving him release so that his sperm buildup would reach its maximum potential.”
“Oh, boy,” said a young girl of about nineteen. “So he’s really going to get a mouthful!”
The others laughed at her comment but stopped once they saw the man’s throat begin to convulse.
“Here it comes!” laughed the brunette, as the first ropes of creamy sperm began to splash about in his gulping mouth.
The brunette held his head in place as the other woman kept stroking his climaxing cock. I could see his eyes bulge out of his head as the torrent of hot, liquid seed shot into his mouth, and in between swallowing his own semen he had to fight for a second’s worth of air to breathe.
“He seems to like the taste of his own goo!” a voluptuous blonde offered, unable to take her eyes from the scene. “I love it!”
“Drink it all down you miscreant!” a middle-aged Sister rasped. “We don’t want to see one drop!”
It must have been extremely difficult for the man to comply with his tormentor’s wishes, seeing that his position was not conducive to keeping the sperm from escaping his mouth. But comply he did, managing to swallow so quickly and effectively that not one drop of cum was visible. This seemed to gratify the Sisters to no end.
“That’s it, keep swallowing,” the brunette said, looking pleased.
“Mmm…I’ll bet it tastes like vanilla pudding!” the woman masturbating him squealed with joy, as her hands brought forth yet another creamy eruption.
As the man continued to swallow load after load of cum, the women derided him without mercy, some even offering to squeeze his balls or help masturbate him to get the most sperm from his cock into his mouth. His orgasm must have lasted almost thirty seconds, but it seemed to have lasted much longer. Nowhere was there to be found a trace of sperm.
Finally, his throat stopped contracting and the brunette released her grip on his head.
“Get up and go back to your cell, you fucking pig! And if you ever speak to anyone of us in that tone of voice again, I’ll make sure you find yourself there on the rack!”
The man cowered before his female superiors as he made a quick and ignominious exit out a nearby doorway.
“I never thought that women could do such things to a man,” I said as I watched the group disband.
“Why?” Yvette replied. “Men have done far worse to women.”
“Yes, but it doesn’t make it right.”
She didn’t reply but I saw her mouth curve up into a slight smile.
“What?” I asked. “What is it?”
“Nothing. Come, we must leave now.”
Taking my hand, she led me to another flight of stairs not far off from where we were standing. I was puzzled by that enigmatic, Mona Lisa-type smile she had given me, but she would not divulge what it was she was thinking, even when I pleaded with her to tell me.
“Some things are best left unsaid,” she finally replied. “Leave it at that.”
“Why? Did I do something to offend you?”
“No,” she laughed. “You have behaved exactly as I expected you to behave.”
“What does that mean?”
“Don’t you know?” she replied, as if I possessed the power to read her mind.
The flight of stairs that led us to the next floor comprised all of twenty steps, for which my tired legs were most grateful. It was rather disconcerting to find that instead of an immense cavern-like environment, such as that which existed on the upper floors, this area was no larger in dimension that a small banquet hall. In fact, the room was laid out much like a dining room with tables full of all different kinds of food, prepared in such a way as to be reminiscent of a medieval feasting hall, and replete with a long dais upon which sat all sorts of delicacies. Lit torches adorned the marble walls and tapestries hung down from the rafters, emblazoned with the emblems of some unknown character. There were three chairs positioned on one side of the table facing us, and in them sat three men busily feeding themselves. They were, like their counterparts above, completely nude, and they said nothing to each other as they feasted in a most rapacious manner upon the food in front of them.
“Who are these men?” I asked Yvette.
“They are the betrayers,” she replied solemnly. “By their treachery many Sisters have met their deaths.”
“Why are they being treated so well then? I don’t understand.”
“You will.”
Several women bearing whips then entered the room and began instructing the men to eat quickly.
“Hurry, hurry,” one of the women said. “Your Mistress will not be pleased if you don’t eat enough. Eat! Eat!”
And with those words she, and the rest of the women, began to whip each man in order to make him eat faster. It was a sickening sight to see each man gorge himself without restraint while being continuously whipped. I had never seen such an example of wanton gluttony in my life.
“How can they stand the pain?” I asked.
“Their need to eat is greater than their fear of the lash,” Yvette replied.
Before my horrified eyes each man soon began to expand under the watchful eyes of his tormentors. In cartoon fashion, the huge gulps of food soon manifested themselves as increases in bodily dimension until all normal appearance had been lost, and all that remained were three human-looking beach balls.
“How can this be?” I uttered.
“Time is condensing,” Yvette said with some alarm. “The vision is dissipating.”
“This can’t be real,” I uttered, willing myself to wake up from this horrible nightmare. I forced myself to turn away.
“No! Don’t look away!” she admonished me. “Keep your eyes open!”
Even as she spoke, the scene began to waver. Light, color, dimension…all were blending into each other in kaleidoscopic fashion until all that was visible was one great wash of white. But in that one instant before the final dissolution occurred, I saw someone, no…”something” jump out from the midst of it. A great golden thing that moved within the miasma, its huge jaws wide open and ready to engulf the naked prey below. And then I suddenly heard myself calling out to the unsuspecting men to flee. But, as they were now nothing more than oversized beach balls, all they could do was roll around on the floor in a mindless display of fear. And as I saw the great jaw close down upon the terrified victims, the whirling vortex began to increase with each second, and my screaming continued until I found myself face to face with the loathsome Beast, its hideous face half human and half something else, reaching out with its many arms toward me.
“No!” I screamed, instinctively raising my arms up to protect my head.
Suddenly my guide’s hand swept before my face and the frightful apparition, so close to swallowing me up, withered away. And I heard Yvette’s voice—distant, hollow, but still audible, as if the words were being carried on a breath of wind.
“Remember what you have witnessed…”
And then the white backdrop of condensed time exploded into a thousand tiny fragments and my eyes opened to stare into the blaze of the rising sun.
************
All of it had been a dream. As I lay in my bed, half my body straining out of the disheveled covers, I noticed that my pillow was wet with perspiration and my heart was beating rapidly in my chest. My arms had been thrown above my head as if to ward off a blow, and I knew that had I not woken up just then, I might have died in my sleep from the sheer fright of the powerful vision. Every sight, every nuance, every pitiable scream now came back to haunt me in vivid detail. And as I shielded my eyes from the harsh light of the morning sun, I was nonetheless glad for its brilliance, as it provided me with a welcome measure of solace for one who had just awoken from a dark and hellish nightmare.
I rose out of bed and prepared my bath, deciding that I would take my time and enjoy the feel of the water against my skin. As I bathed I thought about the poachers who had been apprehended in my dream. I could not fathom why I had dreamt such a thing until I remembered that my aunt Phoebe had complained to Lenore that she had been having trouble recently with poachers, and that my aunt had found an effective way of dealing with the problem. What solution she arrived at she never mentioned, so in my dream I must have filled in the gaps with my own idea of how to handle the problem. But no. I distinctly remember Angelique making a reference to people she referred to as “hired men” whom she had enlisted to trap these poachers, but this statement was made during the excitement of the night before, when my attention was being constantly diverted. I couldn’t be sure if I had heard her correctly or if I had imagined the whole thing.
When I was finished dressing I went downstairs and found my aunt and Lenore sitting in the kitchen eating breakfast. My aunt was wearing a pair of white shorts, tennis sneakers, and a simple, blue blouse. Lenore was similarly dressed but she was wearing a pale pink halter-top. Two tennis racquets lay side by side on the counter top, and half-eaten eggs and toast remained on their plates.
“Well, you’re up early today!” my aunt proclaimed as I made my entrance into the kitchen. “What would you like for breakfast?”
“What you’re having is fine with me,” I said, giving my aunt a kiss on the cheek.
My aunt told the cook to prepare breakfast for me as I sat down beside her.
“Good morning, Holly,” Lenore said cheerfully. “Did you sleep well?”
“I had a nightmare actually. It was very disturbing.”
“What was it about?” she asked.
As I poured myself a glass of orange juice, I debated whether or not I wanted to reveal the part about my journey into the Masturbatorium with Yvette and decided against it. The dream, or vision, as Yvette had called it, was still too real to me, and for some reason I could not fully explain, I felt reluctant to share it with anyone. It was something I could not understand logically: it was more of an intuition, a sense that, for the time being, it was in my best interests to keep the startling revelation secret, as much as it killed me to do so.
“Well,” I began, “I got lost in the forest and had to sleep there overnight. Then I heard some poachers come by and they were shot with some arrows or something and were taken away by a bunch of men dressed in strange outfits. It was all very weird.”
My aunt laughed. “You dreamt that because we were talking about poachers last night.”
“That’s right,” Lenore confirmed. “Your aunt has had problems with those awful men every now and then.”
“But my daughter found a way to deal with it,” my aunt beamed. “Instead of involving the local police, who are entirely inept at tracking these criminals, Angelique recommended that we use some of the men we already have under our employ. Men who know this countryside and the habits of the poachers very well. Now the animals are safer and we get to see these poachers punished.”
“Who are these men?” I asked.
“You met one of them the other day.”
“I did?” I asked again, looking at my aunt and then at Lenore.
“Yes, you did. His name is Jacques, my foreman.”
“How did you know that?”
“Well, I do talk to my employees now and then, Holly,” she said tersely. “And there isn’t much that gets by me around here.”
It seemed to me that Angelique’s suggestion to organize the vineyard’s laborers into a makeshift police force had been made to seem as if it were of greater importance than it really was, and my aunt made no attempt to conceal her satisfaction in parading my cousin’s stellar achievement before me in such a way that would seem to belittle me in Lenore’s eyes. I don’t think the Sisterhood leader regarded the incident as one that would tip the balance in favor of my cousin, but she smiled at my aunt nonetheless while she stuffed a forkful of eggs into her mouth.
“Where is Angelique?” I inquired of my aunt.
“She had Jake drive her into Paris very early this morning. She was going to meet some friends for breakfast and then pick up her dress. You do know that we are having dinner tonight at the “Le Boeuf sur le Toit”?”
Suddenly my thoughts turned to the handsome Swedish boy Craig and what dress I was going to wear.
“Yes, I know. I’m looking forward to seeing Dr. Swensen again.”
“Speaking of her, I received a phone call from her secretary this morning. It seems that she and Dr. Hellstrom had to return to Stockholm immediately. She didn’t say why. It’s a shame too. I really wanted to talk to her about her research.”
“Oh,” I said, feeling somewhat disappointed. “Do you know if Craig and Barney are leaving too?”
“No, they are going to remain with us for a little while,” Lenore said, smiling as she saw my eyes light up. “You like that blonde boy, don’t you?”
“He’s very handsome,” I replied.
“And he enjoys being controlled by a woman.”
“So does the big guy,” my aunt said. “I think they’ll perform well in the ‘Long Shots’ contest—”if “they can adapt to our method of training.”
Lenore looked at her watch. “Which reminds me, we have a disciplinary session in Training Room 1 in about an hour.”
“Go ahead if you want,” my aunt advised. “I’ll meet you in about twenty minutes. Angelique knows to meet us there and I want you there too, Holly.”
“Why do I have to go?”
“We want you to see how we deal with insubordination,” Lenore said firmly. “You can regard it as part of your training.”
Having just awoken from a bad dream in which punishment had taken on a major role, I was not happy to have this sprung upon me, and especially without any prior notice. I was certain my aunt could read the displeasure in my face.
“You could have told me, aunt Phoebe. I had other things planned for today.”
My aunt slowly raised her eyes up off her plate.
“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to, Holly. I can’t force you. But if you expect to be part of this organization, you must be willing to make sacrifices. If you find that you cannot fulfill your obligations, then…”
“It’s all right, Phoebe,” Lenore cut in. “I’m sure Holly wants to do whatever is good for the Sisterhood. Isn’t that right, Holly?”
Lenore looked at me in a most motherly fashion, making me feel guilty for even entertaining the idea that I should forego the event to pursue my own selfish needs.
“If it’s that important to you.”
“It is,” my aunt said, giving me an uncommonly stern look. “And it’s important for you as well. Meet us there in one hour.”
I left the room without another word to either of them. I did not appreciate the fact that I had not been informed about this “disciplinary session,” nor was I pleased at my aunt’s dictatorial attitude toward me, or the way she played up Angelique’s suggestion as if to humble me before Lenore. I regarded it as a flimsy attempt to earn her daughter a few extra points in Lenore’s eyes, and I felt it unworthy of my aunt to act so callously.
As I walked out of the kitchen I realized that I hadn’t eaten any of my breakfast, but now I didn’t care because I was feeling anger in my stomach and to eat would only make me sick. I decided to walk outside onto the lawn and sit by myself on one of the lounge chairs to consider what had just transpired, but I could not get rid of my negative thoughts.
I laid down on the chair and let the warmth of the sun and the soothing, exotic scents of the flowers have their way with me. In such a pastoral environment I could not stay miserable for too long, and I soon felt my anger assuaged by the thought that I had not been told about this “session” because it was probably some kind of test they were going to put me through. A test of what, though? Loyalty? Obedience? These traits were high on the list of qualities a Sisterhood initiate should possess, but maybe I fell short somehow? I had always wondered why Lenore had chosen me to be her successor when I had done barely anything to prove my worth or ability to her or the other Sisters except to invoke some sense of sentimentality in the Sisterhood leader. Maybe now was the time for me to prove myself to them. Maybe that’s why Lenore and my aunt were so insistent that I attend. After all, Lenore did say that it was a part of my “training.”
I decided to call my parents and say hello. It had been several days since we last spoke and I was beginning to experience a little separation anxiety. The first thing my mother did when she picked up the phone was to inquire whether or not my aunt Phoebe was forcing me to partake in any of her crazy jaunts, as she put it. I assured her that I was being treated perfectly fine and that there was no need to worry that I would succumb to my aunt’s questionable lifestyle. Having promised to keep all knowledge of the Sisterhood secret, I could not discuss my recent sojourn into the Masturbatorium, or the disturbing nightmare I had experienced, although I was severely tempted to violate that injunction more than once during our conversation. We spoke for about ten minutes, and once she was assured that I was indeed doing fine, we said goodbye. I asked to her to give a kiss to my dad for me and then hung up the phone feeling a little better that I had talked to her.
The combination of the warm, pleasant air and the welcome fragrance of the flowers had a soothing effect upon me, and I soon closed my eyes. I began to wonder what my Sisterhood leaders were going to do in Training Room 1, and who exactly was going to be the object of their displeasure.
Every so often my thoughts would wander into the nightmare world Yvette had shown me, and what cryptic, internal thought mechanisms had brought forth such imagery out of my subconscious. And what was that thing that I saw thrashing back and forth in a maddening frenzy just before I woke up? That nondescript but uncompromisingly evil apparition left an indelible impression upon my mind, and the strange feeling of familiarity that I felt toward it troubled me greatly.
“Hey lazy bones! Wake up!”
I opened my eyes to see Angelique staring into my face.
“Oh, shit! I said, rising from my chair. “Did I fall asleep?”
“Yes, you did!” she laughed. “We’re supposed to meet mom in the Training Room remember? Come on, we’re late.”
She was wearing a very short pink dress and matching pink shoes, a white and pink checkerboard-style blouse, a wide-brimmed sunhat, and sunglasses. The two-inch heels on her shoes made her legs look even longer than they normally did. I surmised that the event about to take place was what might have prompted her to accentuate her already impressive limbs for the sake of whatever males there might be in attendance. Her hair, perfectly straight and hanging all the way down to her waist, glimmered like a shield of bronze across her backside. I had never seen her look more stunning.
“You hit one of the salons didn’t you?” I asked, as we both made a hurried entrance into the house.
“Got my nails and toenails done too,” she said, waving her newly manicured hand in front of my face. “Wait until you see my new dress!”
I smiled at her but felt no inclination to discuss her latest purchase. I was too worried about what was awaiting me in the Training Room.
“Do you know what’s going on with this disciplinary thing?”
“Some kind of test Lenore likes to pull on us every now and then. Don’t worry about it. Just be yourself and you’ll be fine.”
“You don’t seem to concerned about it.”
“I’m not.”
Training Room 1 was located on the third level of the Masturbatorium—a floor I had yet to see. Angelique chuckled at my surprised expression when the elevator door opened and we found ourselves in a very large, circular room containing a long, oval table around which dozens of women sat. A series of doors flanked the walls on either side, some of which were open to reveal the kind of medical equipment one might find in a doctor’s office. All of the women were impeccably attired in sleek business suits and seemed to be in the midst of a heated discussion. Upon seeing us, the conversation stopped immediately, and we were greeted with harsh stares. Lenore sat at the head of the table with my aunt Phoebe seated to her immediate right, and Justine and Estelle on Lenore’s left. Some of the other women I recognized from previous encounters, others I had never seen before. My cousin and I halted in front of Lenore, who was visibly annoyed by our late arrival.
“You girls should know better than to show up at this time,” the Sisterhood leader said to us as she glanced down at her watch. “You’re ten minutes late.”
“Ten minutes and 33 seconds, actually,” Justine chimed in.
“I’m sorry,” I said looking around at all the stern faces around me. “I fell asleep out on the patio.”
Some of the women grumbled at my explanation, while others merely chuckled. Neither my aunt nor Lenore looked amused.
“I got back as fast as I could, mom,” Angelique said in her best apologetic voice.
“I’m not interested in excuses!” Lenore suddenly blurted out. “The both of you have to learn to be responsible. But in the interests of saving time, I will forego any punishment—this time. Now go and sit down over there and listen carefully to what I have to say.”
She indicated that we sit on two empty chairs at the back of the room adjacent to one of the open doors. I felt all eyes upon me as my cousin and I made our way around the crowd of women, feeling as though I had committed some heinous crime by being tardy. Angelique seemed undisturbed by Lenore’s little tirade, but I felt a twinge of disappointment at seeming, once again, at a distinct disadvantage in the older woman’s eyes. We both sat down and tried to look repentant.
“Now the two of you sit there and be quiet,” Lenore said gruffly. “For the moment you will observe and say nothing. Am I understood?”
Both Angelique and I shook our heads in acknowledgment.
Lenore turned to Estelle. “All right. Let’s get on with it. What’s the first order of business today?”
“There is a discipline problem with one of sister Phoebe’s new servants,” Estelle began, looking down at a pile of papers in front of her. “He refuses to offer a sperm sample for the medical exam all the servants are required to take each year.”
“Refusal is not within his rights as a servant to the Sisterhood,” Lenore informed Estelle. “Why is he having this problem?”
“It seems,” Estelle began, “that he feels it’s degrading for him to ejaculate into a cup with a doctor and nurse standing by.”
“Indeed,” Lenore replied somewhat bemused. “This is our standard procedure and has been for years. The doctor must be present to ensure the pristine quality of the sample. That was explained to him, was it not?”
“Yes, but he can’t seem to get over his shyness.”
“But his shyness didn’t prevent him from telling Dr. Monroe to go fuck herself. Is that not what he said?”
“He did say that, yes.”
Lenore turned to my aunt. “Well, it does seem that you have a problem on your hands, Phoebe. Have you given any thought to what might be done to rectify it?”
My aunt stole a glance at Angelique and me. “Yes, I have.” She pressed a button on the intercom. “You may come in now, doctor.”
In a few moments the door opened and in walked a tall, attractive, red-haired woman who looked to be in her early 30s. She was dressed in a white lab coat and was followed by a young, blonde girl wearing a nurse’s outfit. Following them was a tall, good-looking, but rather thin man, perhaps about 20 years old or so, with long brown hair and a neatly trimmed moustache. He was dressed in a hospital gown and was barefoot. He seemed very tense and anxious upon seeing the crowd of women who were now eagerly craning their necks this way and that to get a glimpse of this disobedient upstart. The doctor, nurse, and “patient” were instructed to walk to the end of the room where Angelique and I were sitting. As they passed by us, two of the women in the crowd got up and proceeded to draw back a retractable panel that was connected to the office door nearest me, exposing a smaller area into which the doctor, the nurse, and the patient now entered. The entire room was empty save for a small 12-inch riser upon which the patient was ordered to stand.
“I don’t enjoy meting out punishments,” Lenore said standing up. “As most of you know, I consider it to be one of the least enjoyable aspects of my work. But disobedience cannot be tolerated.” She turned to my aunt. “Phoebe, how are we going to get this man to produce a sperm sample for us?”
“I believe there are two people here right now who can help with this problem,” my aunt replied.
“Oh? And who might they be?”
“Angelique and Holly,” my aunt replied, looking directly at us.
“Perfect!” Lenore said, smiling at my cousin and I with satisfaction at the premeditated plan. “I leave this man’s punishment in your competent hands.”
I nearly fell out of my seat when I heard my aunt mention my name. I wasn’t prepared to take part in anyone’s punishment and didn’t have the least idea of how to go about administering it, or to what degree. Angelique saw my trepidation and took my hand and squeezed it reassuringly, wearing a grin on her face that told me she had been through all this before.
“A piece of cake,” she said, seemingly non-perturbed by the test we were now about to undertake.
Some of the women in the audience, especially the effervescent Felicia Antonetti and the sultry Janet Walsh, spoke to Angelique and I, wishing us luck. In fact, most of the women appeared very encouraging to us with the exception of a few, most of whom I had never seen before. These few, including the doctor herself, seemed very proud and humorless, and Angelique advised me to ignore their haughty stares and disparaging remarks, spoken amongst themselves in whispers, lest it interfere with my concentrating on the task ahead. My cousin had had limited exposure to these unfriendly women over the course of the past year, and she had nothing good to say about them.
“They’re a bunch of jealous bitches,” she said, staring straight at the smirking group of self-styled pedigrees. “Especially that one in the middle. She thinks she is the reincarnation of Yvette herself. I hate her guts.”
“Yvette?” I asked suddenly.
“Yvette Anjou. You know, our esteemed Sisterhood founder. The one who started this whole thing? She’s a distant cousin of my father’s, but a real Anjou.”
“What’s her name?”
“Charlotte,” my cousin replied. “That’s all you need to know about her.”
The woman my cousin described looked eerily familiar to the woman in my vision. She possessed the same penetrating blue eyes—large and liquid and set within an unusually heavy brow and denoting a high level of intelligence, but also a capacity for ruthlessness; high cheekbones; long auburn hair that fell about her shoulders in the most flattering way; an aquiline nose with perfectly symmetric nostrils; and a smile that was at once both charming and disarming. In effect, she was nothing short of beautiful, and like my uncle Pierre, she possessed the same tall, slim stature and forceful nature of all the Anjou line. She was dressed simply in a black skirt and matching blouse, and wore a stunning pearl necklace around her neck. I noticed that her associates seemed to defer to her constantly, as if seeking her approval on every word.
“Doctor Monroe,” my aunt said. “Please explain to all the Sisters your recent experience with this man. Keep it short and to the point if you will.”
The lovely redhead moved directly in front of the dour-looking patient, who himself had been constantly looking down at the floor without once looking up since taking his place on the platform. She held a clipboard in her left hand that had some papers attached to it, and she quickly glanced at these before speaking.
“The patient’s name is
“Please repeat it, doctor,” my aunt said.
“He told me to…to go and fuck myself,” she answered with some hesitation.
The women began to murmur amongst themselves upon hearing this story, some casting disparaging glances at the patient.
“This man,” my aunt began to the crowd, while looking coldly in Mr. Villon’s direction, “has not only disobeyed orders, he has insulted one of our Sisters. Is there any doubt in your minds that he should be punished for his behavior?”
The entire entourage exploded as if in one voice, condemning the young man for his actions. He looked like an escaped prisoner who had been caught and was now awaiting sentencing. Angelique looked at the man with obvious distaste, and I could see her mind was working out some fanciful punishment even through her grimace. Her expression sent a cold shiver up my spine.
“Do you know,” my aunt said to the cringing young man, “that two kings of France bore the name of Villon? A most noble name, but you…”you “have degraded it. Look at you! Standing there like a lost puppy! Take off your gown right now or I’ll have it ripped from your body!”
The young man hesitated for a moment, but seeing the anger in my aunt’s face, and the disapproving looks of all the women in the audience, he slowly untied the knot in the back of his gown that held it in place and let the garment fall halfway down his body, where he gathered the material up into a ball and held it before his crotch.
“Let it drop!” my aunt yelled. “Now!”
