2084

2084 (by Eve Adorer)

Chapter 9 – Sophistry

All smoulder, Amanda glanced over her shoulder to try and glimpse the backs of her own legs.

…………….

The girl on the bed bore crimson fingernails and toenails, painted thus to match the lipstick on her lovely mouth, and now smudged on her divine nipples: for this eve had even lipsticked her nipples this eve, to entice vice.

One in the shower, as if by its soft sprinkle prompted, prominently breasting the silken soft water removing the eager saliva from nipples that had been sucked to steep peaks they still sustained, a sweet young voice voiced: “Oh I do so hope it wains: one has never seen wain at sea don't ya know: what!”

It had been at Michaela's prompting. The walk on the deck had been at Michaela's prompting. Cecile had insisted on a shower. Michaela wanted to go aloft before the storm was over. The storm she knew would have cleared the decks of all who might see her, save those two Girl-Navy sluts being punished, and they hardly mattered.

Michaela wanted the humiliation but wanted it to be private. Michaela's perversion she had only once before braved in open public. That had been in the pink light district of Glasgow and had led to her arrest even before she could fulfil her fantasy of selling herself to a stranger for sex.

Michaela had wanted to give Cecile a surprise.

The two girls had talked on equal terms despite Michaela's fall from grace and her being expelled from the Clitton Club. Cecile was wealthy enough to indulge a seeming indulgence of the lower orders to which she now, in truth, considered Michaela to have returned. Democracy comes easily to the wealthy, and easier still to the incredibly well-off that numbered Cecile Mondelicuer-Meed-Arbinthrope near the top of their list.

For Michaela, getting Cecile to bed her, had been no problem at all. After all Cecile had been to St Catherine's Academy for Girls , the famous Scottish public school, where she would undoubtedly have spent some nights in bed with the so-called School Slag: the prettiest girl in the school who would be under orders to service the others on demand.

To spice it up, Michaela had dressed as the prostitute she had endeavoured to be that fateful once before in Ballantine Street, with the added spice to the vice this time that she had used her crimson lipstick on her nipples to excite Cecile.

Cecile had loved the role-play.

“A dollar a feel! A dollar a feel: it's got short curly blonde fur!” Michaela had whispered in honeyed tones, playing the streetwalker to a tee.

Michaela had been only too pleased she had negotiated a one-thousand-dollar pre-payment for her body, and seen Cecile use her mobile to order the transfer to Michaela's account.

This was real enough. Now Michaela had fallen on hard times; Cecile had offered the money as a loan to help out her friend. It had been Michaela who had prompted that it be connected with the pretend naughtiness, in a bedroom scenario she had pre-whispered to the intrigued sixteen-year-old Cecile.

Cecile had been rough and all but raped Michaela, literally biting the older girl's nipples, so turned on was she by the sight of the bewitching twitching crimson cones.

Michaela had wanted it rough, but not that rough: that is till the aftertaste. During their joint combat, Cecile had even slapped Michaela's face.

Michaela had been harshly used till she cried out “Stop! Oh please stop!!” and it was then that Cecile had slapped her hard across the face and, still carried on with her four-finger fun, having her one-dollar feel and some, even as Michaela cried tears of distress.

Michaela defended Cecile that it had been Michaela's idea that the one-dollar payment for her pretend services be inserted in the lips of her bush: but in truth it had been Cecile's notion: Cecile whom Michaela shock-realised must habitually use her girlfriends the way that she, Michaela, had just been used.

For Michaela it had been pretence on the pretext of a kinky indulgence. But, Michaela had soon realised, that for Cecile the veneer of role-play, aside from her enjoyment of the spiced-up painted nipples, had seen no acting by Cecile at all: Cecile used her women this way: they were of the lower orders, what right had they to feelings?

Nonetheless, now it was over, oh so quickly over, Michaela knew she had enjoyed her role as a slut in a simulacrum of the life of a real prostitute, despite the brevity of the sex and the cruelty, and the face slap that had been so very hard and so very real, and despite that she, Michaela, had had no cum from the encounter, bar the cums she encountered once she had been thrown on the bed, used, abused, and discarded.

Michaela had had to pretend she was stimulated and had had a multiple orgasm from her rape: it had been the only way to stop Cecile hurting her. It was the slap and the rough tossing aside afterwards that had made Michaela shock-cum. So unfeeling and cruel had this been, that had Michaela hit the floor when Cecile had slapped her, or after Cecile had used her, Cecile would not have given a tinker's curse.

It was this that had turned Michaela on. This was Michaela's first experience of being treated as if she were “rough trade”. She had actually cum multiple cums after she had been slapped and thrown aside, and as she thereafter watched the rear of the naked Cecile, as Cecile had cast off her stockings and swayed a swathe to her shower cubicle, having, as Michaela's amateur acted girl-gasps had deceived her into thinking, just sent Michaela to heaven.

Something of the deepest darkest desires in the fabulously lovely 26-year-old blonde professor, ten years older than the girl who had just raped her, had had its call answered. But that inner darkness was but the dusk, and darker still were the preparations that Michaela had made next.

She did not have the kneepads or the mittens, but had sneaked in the thigh straps, and the collar and leash. The two girls, before the so-called lovemaking, had talked of the excitement of New York, where Cecile had never visited before, but where Michaela had worked at WOW headquarters (Women of the World having succeeded the disbanded United Nations in 2084). Michaela knew of the latest New York fashion accessory and wanted to give Cecile a foretaste.

As Cecile had showered Michaela had slipped quickly off the bed, thrown of her skirt and ripped blouse, donned her collar, left the leash obvious on the bed cover, and strapped her gorgeous legs, ankles to thighs, near her crutch. She had then risen to her knees, to use her knees like the rear legs of the bitch she had bound herself as, as she had waited obediently for her “mistress” to come out of the shower.

Outside a storm raged and the ship rose and fell. Waves crashed over its bows, and rain scuttered down the cabin's porthole windows, fresh water washing off salt water and turn and turn about. That it was already raining was apparently unknown to Cecile, perhaps because of the noise of the pulse-stream shower she was playing on her still erect nipples the while: “Oh I do so hope it wains: one has never seen wain at sea don't ya know!”

The look of no surprise on Cecile's face as she came out of the shower had been a deep disappointment to Michaela. But somehow even then, the genuine humiliation, had turned her on once more.

“Oh one is going to play doggy for one: how vewy scwumptious” Cecile had muttered matter-of-passing-notely, more concerned to dry her hair than to feast on the fabulously fantastic sight of Michaela's truly wonderful huge thighs forming a bridge of sighs as she stood four-legged in her bondage.

Cecile had seemed so little interested in continuing the intended-to-be-sexy game, Michaela had lowered herself to undo her thigh straps, when a harsh voice ordered: “Stay as you are: there's a good little gel!”

In truth, Cecile had seemed more interested in the rain on the porthole window than in the gloriously erotically compelling sight of a woman as beautiful as Michaela Redhead bound as a bitch.

The plastic mackintosh that showed all of Cecile's slim young growing-to-full-womanhood body, including her heavy dark triangular bush, was a turn-on unintended to please; more in fact intended as a quick fix for the rain Cecile longed, for some reason, to taste the experience of for the first time at sea.

The attachment of Michaela's leash and the harsh tug with which the bitch-tied beauty was pulled to her four, including her rear leggy-legs' torment, showed little consideration for Michaela's enjoyment of a submissive experience, and Michaela had then been dragged running on all-fours as best she could, out to the elevator and onto the top deck where the warm rain skeeted down on her flawless complexion, drowning her blonde corn-stubble hair as she crawled at her mistresses command, with the one-dollar bill Cecile had insisted in pushing back into her pod, waving like a mini-tale as Michaela wiggled.

This was not as Michaela had intended it to be. This was not erotic. Her poor knees were raw and skinned as Cecile still insisted she crawl: oh and the noise those two sailoresses were making in their torture: they almost seemed to be enjoying it, the dirty little sluts.

Oh yes and that little negro girl in the barrel: oh god was she pretty?! Michaela's one time girl-car motor: ‘Amelia' was she; or ‘Asana', or some such name like that? What lovely lips she had and those soulful dark brown eyes………

The sight of the lovely Amanda in her cage suffering a fucking from the pole on which she was impaled within it and within her, had turned Michaela fantastically on, and the turn-on removed the hurt from her knees. But Michaela had not been allowed to look around after she had wiggled past Amanda's cage and heard the wonderful negress in the agony and ecstasy of total orgasm as if the scene that had tipped her to catastrophic cums had been Michaela's bitch-bound body.

Michaela had not been allowed to look around after she had wiggle-crawled past Amanda's cage and heard the wonderful negress in the agony of total orgasm. Cecile had become bored and had dragged Michaela once more back below deck.

…………………

All smoulder, Amanda glanced over her shoulder to try and glimpse the backs of her own legs. There is no smoke without fire.

New York Central Park was below. Cecile's mamma, the Duchess of Tiapaolin, owned five Manhattan apartments: Cecile now occupied the grandest.

Amanda's relief when she discovered it was not true, as a shipmatess had told her on the SS Naughtylass, that servants and slave-girls in America had their tongues and their clits cut out, was, and you can surely imagine, more than considerable.

Another frightening idea that had haunted Amanda's mind from the lies she had been told by ignorant taunting teasing sailoresses on the Naughtylass, was that on Long Island there were whipping brothels where, for five-dollars, you could flog the girl of your choice to death.

These wicked tales had been told to tease the brilliant but innocent Amanda, who had half-believed, until the teller of the tale had guffawed, that French girls were being selectively bred so as to have three breasts!

In fact, New York was a disappointment only insofar as it was but the Glasgow of post 2084 writ larger. A magnificent city yes, but Adele Halter's views were shared by Presidentess Georgina Whip Birch, and girls were now just as irrelevant to the economy of the USA as they had become in Britain.

For New Yorkers post 2084, the height of fashion was to own a bitch. No self-respecting established or would-be socialite would be seen dead without at least one bitch on a leash and better still several.

Post 2084, girls were incredibly cheap in the US. For an outlay of just a few cents, two or three pretty little wonders would be wiggling their naked wares on long leads before you: only too grateful that this way they would get fed at least once per day; as long as they were good little bitches of course.

………………

All smoulder, Amanda glanced over her shoulder to try and glimpse the backs of her own legs. There is no girl without there is desire.

Cecile had bought Amanda out of the Girl-Navy. Cecile had liked the look of this negress since Amanda had been the motor in Michaela's girl-car. Cecile had a vacancy for a maid whilst she would be in New York, and Amanda would do as well as any other slut to fill the role.

Amanda had therefore been given two choices, continuing in the Girl-Navy or working for Cecile, and had decided to risk the latter. After all, had Cecile not been very gentle and kind in buying her at auction to give her her chance in the Girl-Navy and free her from slavery in the first place?

Cecile liked to be surrounded by beautiful things. Although but a maid Amanda, undoubtedly a beautiful thing, must thus dress to please the eyes.

All smoulder, Amanda glanced over her shoulder to try and glimpse the backs of her own legs to see if the seams of her canary-yellow stockings were straight. What a trail her tail could blaze!

Teetering on murderously high twelve-inch stiletto-heel-and-toe-shoes, Amanda's lovely legs needed all their feminine muscularity not to tremble and cause her to teeter totter and topple, such was the miniscule purchase her sharp-pointed shoes' toe-ends and super-thin heels gave her with the ground she blessed.

The twelve-inch heels of Amanda's canary-yellow shoes ran parallel with what would be their soles, save that soles touch ground to define them as soles, and the arched soles of Amanda's shoes merely bent her feet so as to ensure her big toes took all her 105-pound weight, by making her big toes point vertically to ground within the toes of her shoes which rapidly tapered from where her feet were squeeze-enveloped in fact, to a pinpoint mini-“front-heel” of no more than one-sixteenth-of-a-square-inch round running three-inches from the encased point of her big toes to the ground.

These pointed stiletto toe-ends were only two-inches in front of the twelve-inch long stiletto heels, which ended in just the same minimal one-sixteenth-of-a-square-inch round ground contact for the outstanding standing Amanda.

Amanda's gorgeous legs thus stretched and arched at calves to an infinity of indefinable divinity in their girlmuscular glory, and the seams of Amanda's canary-yellow stockings led the eye along the straight and narrow path with the smooth undulating curves that takes the sight to the site of heaven. And heaven still nestled a divided undivided god-made slot with its virginal incurving outer lips between Amanda's fabulously strong shapely thighs.

A light-refracting zigzag prismatic pattern mesmerised the eye that must but must look at the tops of Amanda's stockings from whence this compelling confusion was emitted: stocking tops which were no more than one-quarter up Amanda's coffee-brown thighs: stocking tops held there and stretched to inverted vees by garter suspenders.

At the top of each of Amanda's handsome thighs, touching at rear the very cheeky cheeks of her very cheeky bottom, were side-ribbon-bowed lusciously-lacy-frilled to thrill, sun-yellow garters, that performed a function both erotically decorative and functional, in that a suspender ran down from the front and back of each, to hold up Amanda's stockings.

Each garter in turn was then held up by suspenders that ran up front and back – the back ones over the mountains of Amanda's callipygian moons - to the supremely extremely tight corset Amanda wore: a canary-yellow lusciously-lacy-fringed leather corset that hugged her middle down to a breathless breathtaking eight-inches, so the poor girl was wasped to a breathless breathtaking wisp.

Amanda wore no panties, but relied for her modesty upon the elasticated-lacy gusset stretched between her garters to hide her completely shaven and immaculately smooth incurving virtually virgin innocent-looking lower lips.

Her cantilevered corset's cups lifted Amanda's magnificent bosom, heaving and separating her, so that she pointed very femininely forward, with decidedly delineated cleavage, and quarter-cupped her, covering her only to the extent of discreetly secreting her nipples, so that Amanda's breasts heaved with her every soft breath like the bosom of a horror film heroine at her first sight of the prehistoric monster from the lagoon predicating a helpless feminine scream and swoon.

This underwear was almost Amanda's outerwear. To finish her ensemble, a canary-yellow choker at her delicate slim throat, and frilly cuffed sun-yellow gloves on each lovely hand. From the choker there swept down all around her to a hem just below her devastating derriere, a surrounding semi-translucent canary-yellow cloak-like A-line dress, with long sleeves opened at the ends like those of a magician-sorcerer from which Amanda's lacy gloved dainty hands emerged.

Amanda wore canary-yellow eye shadow. It suited her. The flash of the sun-like yellow on her flawless brown complexion fascinated when she blinked: that is of course, if one could take one's eyes off Amanda's lips, offering the kiss of kismet, caressed in the choicest moistest wet-look lipstick in the most brilliant sun-yellow.

Top all this off with Amanda having her negress' curly hair clipped to a cute boyish curly crop, and you have a recipe so devastating in loveliness that she could raze New York to the ground with a chance glance of her wonderfully intelligent eyes. Oh that terrorists should never acquire such a weapon!

The three-inch hobble-chain between her shapely ankles would cap her captivating wiggle.

All smoulder, Amanda glanced over her shoulder to try and glimpse the backs of her own legs to ensure the seams of her canary-yellow stockings were indeed straight.

She then donned her mini-sombrero soft floppy straw hat, and placed it on her natural negress' cute curls at a decidedly ravishing angle, as she could not help because she was she: all she and nothing but she was she: and was she she?!!

……………….

The piercing went through her tongue. She wore a studied ball stud. It was the half the size of her tongue and filled the upper cavity of her mouth when her pretty mouth was pretty-well closed. A stud that was a big dome above the tongue and an only marginally smaller one below, dominating her mouth to all but silence her. It was a gag but less blatant. Her mouth still looked natural when closed. So much more decorative than a gag as such it was. Such it was that quietened a bitch.

Earlier in trow, Amanda had squatted astride and let go her pee into the trough to refill it nil it empty. The soft white wine from the mountain dew she drank, shimmered as if in a summer breeze as it tumbled trickled and tinkled into that already in the trough ready for the bitches. Such was what a bitch drank: a heaven blessed bitch that is.

The bitches in Amanda's gentle charge were sleek and shiny with soft healthy “coats”. Their flawless skin shone with the protective sunscreen Amanda had caressed their bodies with from forehead to toes. Such was all a bitch wore.

Her body shone shaven and immaculately smooth. Her hair was drawn up in a binding band so that it stood up on the top back of her head formed into a poodle-tail's ball. This was decorated always when out and about, with a perfectly tied ribbon-bow of colour complimentary to the cutie's coiffure. Such was a bitch's topknot.

A cartoon Pluto would have been proud of the long thin tails that rose in desperate defiance of gravity, only to parallel the parabola, and curve back down toward ground. Thin whippy pinpoint-ended spring-cored black rubber clitoris extensions in truth of the short story. Clamped over and down to the base of the clitoris with a pin-piercing to keep them in place. A constantly aerial antenna or aerial, wobbling waving and wanking the bitch as she wiggled with it bobbing between her bound up legs. Such was a bitch's non-male tail.

The rings through the nipples included kerknockers. With the breast gravity blessed, gold rings in both nipples dangled down. From each ring dangled two two-inch rods each with a ball-bearing tip. These were her kerknockers. Such were a bitch's mammary medallions.

Unless a choke-chain was necessary to curb a fractious one, the leather collar was either studded or spiked. The colour of its leather would always match that of the padlocked straps that tied her ankles tightly to her upper thighs at crotch level, so she must use her knees as her rear paws. Such were a bitch's containing constraining restraints.

On the knees were air-cushion pads with a string strap around the back of the knee to hold them on. The hands were in wrist-padlocked mittens with air-cushion pads in the palms. Black rubber these. Such were a bitch's front and rear “paws”.

Walking wanked the bitch as her tail whipped and wobbled. Walking wanked the bitch as the balls dangling from her nipple-rings swung past each other side-to-side and fore-and-aft, or sometimes struck and bounced out in reaction in torturous teasing pleasing.

All smoulder, Amanda glanced over her shoulder to try and glimpse the backs of her own legs to ensure her stocking seams seemed straight, for were they seen to be unseemly she would be whipped.

Amanda knew now the completely compelling beauty of her body was being used. The toleration of her survival depended on her outstanding stunningness. This was her fate.

She bent at hip letting slip her dress' hem revealing her two profoundly round rear moons as she attached the leashes to her three charges.

Six bright eyes shone submissively adoringly at her: two black, two emerald-green, and two in the most incredible shining cornflower-blue.

Such was the power and wealth of Cecile Mondelicuer-Meed-Arbinthrope, that she could afford a maid solely for the three bitches she owned. Amanda had been appointed and had not disappointed. Amanda had been made a kennel-maid.

………………

Time awhile back: as she listened to the howls of protest, Amanda routinely proffered her breast.

Siabon's Irish lilt was obvious. The words were decidedly indecipherable through the muffling walls. Siabon was speaking, nay shouting. In answer there seemed silence, but Cecile was always calm and assured despite her teenaged youth.

Siabon's secure living had disappeared along with her husband-girl Michaela.

With her last shard of shared savings she had sailed on the SS Menses, queen of the Red-Streak Line, bottom class from Cork in Southern Ireland, where she had returned briefly to live with her mother when Michaela had been arrested, arriving New York two days since and after Amanda had already been there some three months.

Siabon had tracked and trailed and tailed Michaela to the USA. Of course Siabon had known about the Clitton Club, not that Michaela would ever take her wife there. Of course, nobody at the Cltton would let Siabon in to make enquiries.

As of then, Siabon, having made a good marriage, still had status in society. She had therefore overcome her fear of the Girl-Police to ask at Girl-Control headquarters in her native Cork, where Michaela had gone once she, Michaela, had been let off her sentence and freed from gaol.

Indeed, though desperate for her only assured future, Siabon had quite enjoyed the “yes ma'am” and “no ma'am” respect with which the Irish Girl-Police had had now to treat her, seeing that she wore a wedding-ring on her right-hand wedding ring finger: thus indicating she was married, and anyway obviously recognising the name and connected prestige – notoriety now of course, come to that - as Siabon had introduced herself to them as “Mrs Michaela Redhead” with her marriage certificate to hand had they needed proof of the truth.

Amanda now heard frustration's tears in Siabon's voice as she, Amanda, squatted on her gorgeous haunches routinely proffering her breast.

Twenty-four hours after the blazing row heard through the wall, and otherwise not at all, Amanda had another mouth to feed.

Stark choice had found Siabon stark naked. Her tongue had been pierced and fitted with the double-hemispherical tongue controller, but was still very sore. Her hair, her red hair, looked amazing in its poodle topknot and emerald-green ribbon. Her ghostly white body was still pink in patches where she had caught the sun, and would be evened in its colour in days as she must now wiggle with her new tail wagging and wanking her, as the rings and kerknockers dangling from her near-transparent freshly pierced pink nipples threshed and thrashed and bashed.

Siabon had been lucky. Cecile could have had her arrested for being without monetary support. The courts would soon then have divorced her for her inability to produce her husband-girl - the limit being 48-hours to habeous-corpus - to prove her marriage had not been split by divorce voiced the statutory three times: saying “I divorce thee” thrice, being sufficient for a husband-girl to sunder a marriage under the Girl Laws.

Siabon had been lucky, because it had appealed to Cecile's decidedly sexy mind to have black, blonde, and red haired bitches in her kennel.

Amanda now had another mouth to feed. The bitches must be fed thrice per day.

Amanda knelt on her gorgeous haunches. On her right nipple were the lovely lips of a blonde-haired cornflower-blue-eyed bitch. The bitches must be fed thrice per day.

Amanda's soulful eyes closed as the bitch suckled. She could feel the tip of the bitch's constrained tongue lick her nipple to entice the flow of her milk.

Amanda's milk was the only food the bitches were allowed. The bitches must be fed thrice per day. This blue-eyed bitch was clearly very hungry and did not want to let the nipple go, even though she must know that Amanda had to share her milk with the black-eyed Italian Jewess bitch, and now the redhead: the cornflower-blue-eyed bitch's emerald-green-eyed wife.

Amanda's soulful eyes closed as the bitch suckled. How could she help but feel emotion and arousal as the beautiful bitch, the girl she loved, sucked her milk from the teat of her tit?

As the blue-eyed bitch suckled her right breast, Amanda had kept her fingers on the nipple of her left breast to stop it leaking in sympathy. Now with a “come-on-then” beckon by uplifted eyebrows and gentle smile, she called over the black-eyed bitch, and tried not to sigh as more succulent lips, no less succulent than those already suckling, began to suck her milk for succour and sustenance.

The bitches must be fed thrice per day. The long needles forced into her nipples to inject her with the hormones had made her scream with agony. This, along with the daily tablets, one for each of her 40-inch double-D-cup tits, had returned Amanda to the lactation her Girl-Navy service had seen dry up. And now she must service the bitches with her milk, because the bitches must be fed thrice per day, and this was the only food they were allowed.

Now Amanda no longer needed the daily tablets. As long as she gave suckle her milk would continue to be produced. The nutritious value of her yield showed in the silk-smooth complexions of the bitches that sucked on her breasts so eagerly this morning and would again at noon and eve.

It was said to be good for the bitch's health for them always to feel hunger. Accordingly, Amanda must restrict their suckling to a strict three-and-a-half minutes, and besides, Amanda now had three bitches to feed with the same amount of milk being produced by her as before when she had only had the two bitches to give breast to.

……………….

Later. Every morning it was the same. Amanda would take off the panties she wore in her bed in the room that housed the kennel, having returned the bitches locked in there for security while she showered, and every morning she would discard the panties soaked, nay saturated, in her musk from her arousal at the suckling she must perform as the obedient kennel-maid.

Amanda must then put on her makeup, and dress in wickedly-tight front-strapped corset and kennel-maid uniform to walk the bitches in Central Park. Amanda wore a three-inch gold ankle-hobble at all times when out and about, but was free of that on trust with the key to unlock it when about her duties in the kennels.

And this bitch exercising was such hard work, as on return she must strip again to bathe and shave the bitches in turn: waxing their legs and their sexes to keep them immaculately smooth. Cecile demanded the highest standards in appearance, both of the bitches and of Amanda herself, when they were out in public.

All smoulder, Amanda glanced over her shoulder to try and glimpse the backs of her own legs to ensure that the seams of her canary-yellow stockings were straight. There is no girl without there is fire.

Looking up she watched as Michaela's succulent lips pout-sucked Amanda's scented wine from the trough Amanda had not long since peed into to top up. This was the love of her life. Her tongue held useless by the piercing stud, Michaela's soft sweet lips forming a kiss, the kiss Amanda longed for from her, to suck the piss-wine for her thirst.

Michaela was blissfully unaware of the stirrings in Amanda's gentle heart that the sight of Michaela's bitch bound body sounded.

It was but a matter-of-fact glimpse that Amanda's eyes took in, but her pupils instantly flared wide with arousal at the sight of the 26-year-old Michaela's full-grown-woman's wares, her dangling breasts ‘bells' swinging to toll soundlessly the victory the bonds had over her bound body, as she bent now and kissed the golden-clear liquid in the trough and sucked it up with a kiss, just as she had earlier sucked to suckle on Amanda's mothering breast.

More lovely lips that had suckled on Amanda now joined the sucking of the wine from the trough. Amanda had been amazed at the success with which Zudina Palermo had surrendered to her subservience: she had also tanned a little in the sun and her extreme whiteness was moderated to a modest but delightfully Italianate olive hue.

Siabon was white still. In the fire of the sun, her lovely flesh would only go red. She was a redhead with the translucence of complexion that goes with the flaming glory of fiery hair. Her protection against the glare of the fierce globe was vital. An extra strength of sunscreen was needed for her.

Even so her freckles were absolutely delicious, being constantly now full-out on her creamy dream-soft face, over the bridge of her dainty nose, adorning her forehead, and trepidatiously touching upon the edge of her pouting-kiss lips. Too so were her facial cheeks now bucolically rosy. The flame-haired Siabon was sunned to a stunning freckled cider-Rosy: a pouting emerald-eyed Emerald Isle colleen posing positive perturbation.

At the sight of Amanda holding their three leashes at the ready, the bitches looked up eagerly all three.

All three bitches were unleashed by their leashes. They loved “walkies”. To walk wanked them. A bitch's bondage masturbated her constantly but more concentratedly when she was walked or allowed to run.

All three of her charges now stood on their all-fours, using their padded knees and palms as their four paws, standing with their aerial tails wobbling as if wagging; but with no “as if” about it as the wagging wanked their clitorises.

Bending so her full firm naked bottom mirrored an upside-down-world's double-moonrise below the horizon of her dress' hem, Amanda attached the leashes to her bitches, the bitches in her charge that is, and prepared for them to charge as they always would in eagerness to be wanked as they wiggled to and in the park.

As they crawled to the elevator, six breasts swung wide-to-side-to-side-to-wide with their snaking bodies, and kerknockers swung on nipples and knocked and rebounded to give them pain. Wire tails aloft wagged and wanked their glistening clits as they walked doggy-bound bound for the park.

Amanda was up on the stiletto tips of the toes of her double-heeled-shoes as she walked away asway with a belly-dancer's pronouncement, because her corset enforced eight-inch waist widened her wiggle, and forced her into fantasy femininity to mesmer-eyes.

Amanda's mini-dress rustled breezed leaf's sighs. On top of her stiletto-toed shoes, so that her ground grip was vicariously precarious at best, her tiny steps were forced and enforced by her dainty three-inch gold hobble chain. In her frilly-cuffed gloved left hand she held all three long leashes. In her right hand frilly-cuff-gloved, she held a bitch whip, the handle strap of which arounded her dainty wrist, and the business strap of which, tip-ball-studded, hung down two-feet toward her shapely ankles, angled in readiness for use in an anger that sweet Amanda had never known in her life, she was so lovely and loving.

As Amanda and her three bitches left the apartment for the elevator, Cecile was returning from her night at a party with Long Island friends.

Instantly on their meeting, Amanda returned from her toes to stand also on her twelve inch heels and bend her glorious negress' brown legs in a double-knees-bend worshipful fully subservient duly observant courteous curtsy of eroticism stupendous, as she moist-wet-look sun-yellow-lipsticked vesper-prayer-lip-whispered, in a sweet scented zephyr of Marilyn Monroe restrained giggle sigh, her hatted head, eyes initially raised then lowered in a head-nod bow: “Good morning my lady”.

Cecile's appreciative eyes ran Amanda ceiling up to floor down seeing in microseconds her in no-way second place flawlessness, and answered in the instant: “Good morning indeed Amanda. Golly gosh: but do you look pwitty today!”

“Oh. Thank you my lady” Amanda breathlessly breathed as, pleased by the praise but disturbed and perturbed, she curtsied again and blushed, while Cecile in sweatshirt and jeans swept busily by.

……………….

“I know your not weally a bitch, but pwease do it for me!”

Even at 9.00 of the morn New York sweltered and Amanda was glad of the shelter of her wide-rimmed straw hat. The bitches naked needed the protection of the high Uv factor that their gorgeous bodies were screened with, and which made them shimmer and shine reflectively haloed in the searing heat.

Sun worship was in order, suitably protected. Cecile liked her bitches to maintain their overall suntans. Blonde Michaela Redhead was a lovely nut-brown now. Cecile had also praised Amanda for introducing a tan to the pale exceedingly sensitively skinned Zudina Palermo. And she had excused Amanda from seeking to get a tan on the delicate flesh of Siabon Redhead, Michaela's wife, recognising that the redhead's ghost-white skin must be protected from being burnt, and adoring the freckles the sun had brought out on her face.

Sun worship was in order for Amanda too. The sun had permission to worship the incredibly lovely creature, even though Amanda's unmatchable beauty put its mere majesty ashamed in the darkest shade.

Amanda timed this morning's walk in hope.

There had been nothing innocent about the look: it had been completely disingenuous. Midnight black hair and saffron-yellow eyes.

One of those stretch-limousines cruised by. White for a wedding? Did they realise the amount of energy consumed to produce the supposedly environmentally friendly hydrogen on which these ran? There was little oil left now, so the comparison was with coal consumption and its exhaust products. And Amanda supposed that coal had to be used to initiate the energy for hydrogen production, unless coal were to be used to directly power the automobiles the Americans still used, which would be hideously clumsy…..

…….Oh these damned dogs. There were so many now. Real dogs running wild in packs returned to feral nature as pack animals. They were mostly Alsatians, last year's fashion now that bitches were in. Their owners were unknown since no dog wore a collar like the bitches had to do by law. Their owners should be taken to court for letting them loose to nuisance citizens the way they now did…..

Amanda was lost in intelligent, if not particularly profound, thought as she belly-dancer-wiggled with her bitches on their leashes pulling eagerly in front………as……….

………“Wow! And Wow again!” the business girl's expressive appreciation brought Amanda back from her thoughtful reverie as she routinely walked the bitches in Central Park.

“My god are you a dream?! Honeeey, you are just sensational!”

“Thank you my lady” Amanda courteously smiled bowing only with her head and eyes and just dipping her knees in passing duty to her superior, as the bitches on their leashes hurried her on, and the awe-struck businessgirl walked backwards the while to watch Amanda swing and sway her angel's way.

“Oh it's a doggy! Cecile you are so so so marvellous I want to kiss you!”

“Give her here: I've got a little something for her!”

“No: you mustn't!”

“And why not!?”

She was there. Oh god she was there. She was with a friend today.

Amanda's heart pounded. The cardigan was off her shoulders again. Schoolgirls treated their clothing so roughly. But the way it bared her smooth sun-browned eggshell-brown lightly freckled shoulders!

She wore balletic shoes again today. Amanda had not seen her in those that first time. Bare legs. Lovely legs.

She was giggling and her pretty hand was up to her precociously bold sweet lips, fingertips on the bridge of her freckled nose, as she tiptoed backwards doubling a little, as if in recoil, with her soprano laughter, and then tiptoed forward conspiratorially toward her comparatively dowdy friend again. Their heads were close together and from the way they were giggling, they must be talking about sex and girls.

She was maybe, just maybe, fourteen.

On her own that day two months ago as Amanda had passed with the bitches, she had looked unsmiling at Amanda. There was nothing innocent about the look: it was completely disingenuous. She would have said hello had Amanda been quicker and braver. But then her eyes had turned and the time was lost. Yellow eyes. This girl had raven black hair and saffron-yellow eyes.

She was not seducing so she was so seducing. She was, back then that first time, probably waiting for the pal with whom these many weeks later, with a strange meeting between Amanda and she in-between as Amanda now reminisced, waiting for the pal with whom these many weeks later she was now today giggling and tiptoe-giggle-wiggle-dancing so prettily.

Amanda could not say hello that first time. The girl had not seemed to really see her that first day. She was just being polite. Had Amanda said hello she would have answered out of pure courtesy. She could see that Amanda was only a maid, but she, Amanda, was the elder, and it was therefore not right for Serna, for this was she, to speak first. Mummy had brought her up to be polite, even to mere maids.

At the third time of their paths crossing, Serna was proud: she was wearing her first brassiere. She wanted her best friend to notice but was not going to tell her. Serna wanted to be grown-up. For grown-ups, wearing a bra was the every-day norm, so Serna pretended she had always worn a bra and there was nothing special about today; even though her mummy had held her and hugged her and kissed her forehead with loving tears in her eyes that morning.

That third time, out of the corner of her eye, the giggling Serna saw her as if she had been waiting for her.

Amanda had assumed she would get no stir from the schoolgirl whose look the first time she had seen her had burned a heart-shaped brand on her soul from the grace of a face no angel could compete with: this having been confirmed signed sealed and delivered the second time they had met.

But no: this third time the two schoolgirls stopped their chatter and turned in silence toward Amanda as if they had been stoking up each other's courage.

Then: “Hi” had said a voice so sweet with the giggle that the girl who owned it suppressed, but which was no less sincere for it, or its monosyllabity.

“Good morning my lady” Amanda answered in astonished pleasure at having her dream come true and the raven-haired saffron-eyed Serna greeting her as she passed.

And then the two girls had collapsed in giggles once more, and Amanda realised she had aroused their love and that their preceding conspiratorial chatter had been to find the courage to say hello to the lovely negress she, that she, Serna, had been telling her best friend at school about obsessively these weeks and days past.

“Oh isn't she just so amazing?!……..” Amanda heard Serna gasp gawp gulp and then collapse into tip-top-tiptoed-legs leggy-legs dancing wiggle giggle as she, Amanda, had continued on her dutiful way.

And Amanda had finally realised that her love was just lust, and the object of her desire only just awakening with no skill or experience, at the dawn of her dawn, and that she should be ashamed for wanting a girl so young and untutored in life. But oh Serna's first look and that coal black hair and those saffron-yellow eyes!

“I know your not weally a bitch, but pwease do it for me!”

“Oh it's a doggy! Cecile you are so so so marvellous I want to kiss you!”

“Sit!”

……………….

Amanda watched the wibble-wobble of the tall tails that Plutonically curved up from the clitorises of the three bitches she was walking in the park, and realised how they were being frankly wanked, and knew that this was to keep them tame, and longed for to share their shame.

Twenty Alsatians passed at a run chase. They really must do something to round them up for the dog pound! Just what was City Hall thinking of?!

Yesterday and the day before, Amanda's nipples had been feeling sore. She knew the sensation. It was not from her having to give suck to her three lovely charges. It was true what it said in the magazines though. Siabon's was out of step yet, she had not lived in the kennels as long as Amanda had constantly with the other two this last while now. Michaela's and Zudina's now coincided with Amanda's though.

It had come on this morning. Her red rain held reign reining her in. Zudina and Michaela were seeping too. It was distressing to openly drip into her garter-panties' gusset like this, but Cecile forbad a towel let alone a tampon, and poor Zudina and Michaela were clearly dripping their red on their naked thighs.

Amanda shuddered at the howl and the hairs on the back of her neck momentarily stood up.

The toe-tip-two-heeled shoes wiggle-walking progress momentarily ceased: Siabon needed to pee.

Progress halted as, on a verge, Siabon parted her thighs and a stream of her lovely wine spouted hot for a while, till it ending fell to just a drip on the grass. Now, Amanda gently tugged Siabon's leash to get her back with the group.

Another howl made Amanda shudder.

Siabon must now defecate and Amanda be patient. None of the bitches long since felt any shame at performing their bodily functions in public. An early whipping from Cecile had taught Zudina not to pee on the floor of the kennel. This was part of the reason for the walk the bitches were being taken upon by Amanda. Amanda readied her poop scoop and a plastic bag for when Siabon had finished her natural offices from her natural orifices.

On the path behind, the jingling of a girl-cart with a wild-eyed red-haired ponytailed lovely pulling with all her might, her nostrils flared as she stared scared past side-blinkers, passed in a blink of a lovely brown girl's dark brown eyes, her trotting legs a blur of emotional motion, her reins and nipple-bells stretching and jingling, and her tits slapping her chest with zest, as her owneress ominously waved her whip to drive her in her tiptoed hooves faster and faster for the excitement of the speed, and because her owneress was late for school.

……………….

“Sit!”

“Give her here: I've got a little something for her!”

“No: you mustn't!”

“And why not!?”

Amanda moved her threesome on to a wooded area where she preferred they do their natural motions, and it was there the Alsatian dog pack, led in fact by a ‘she-wolf' of grey muzzled might, whose teeth bared as she viciously snarled and dribbled her spittle, surrounded them.

……………….

“Ah yes. Amanda. One wants a word with you pwease.” Cecile Mondelicuer-Meed-Arbinthrope had beckoned to her kennel-maid that morn a fortnight since.

“Yes my lady”, the supremely leggy Amanda dipped her knees, putting one delightful shapely leg a step back beforehand as she curtseyed to her mistress.

“Amanda, I know your not weally a bitch, but pwease do it for me!”

“I humbly beg to beg your pardon my lady?” Amanda dared to query.

“It's Vewonica Hayden-Standish's hen night don't you know. She's goin' to mawwy Amewia Jenkins-Wawd would you bewieve! What a stonker! I'll say!! A twooley scwumptious gel! Bermooda for the old wedding day what!” Cecile spoke as if Amanda must know whom Veronica Hayden-Standish and her intended wife, or was it husband-girl, Amelia Jenkins-Ward, might be.

“And you know what: Vewonica's hired one of those long motor thingies with wheels a mile apart and I said we could pway at pass the parcel!” Cecile seemed almost to be talking to herself.

“Anway, I've pwomised you. So you will do it won't you there's a good gel” at this, which was clearly not a question but an order, Cecile had turned to leave, before turning again.

“I know your not weally a bitch, but pwease do it for me! I have a little gel coming from the local school to put you on your wead.”

“Yes my lady” Amanda curtsied confirmatorily again as Cecile left.

“9.00 tonight then, and thank you Amanda: you are a tweasure!” drawled Cecile's voice as she withdrew to shower for her evening out with the bride-to-be still free, before her wedding day bliss made her no longer a Miss: the delightful Veronica Hayden-Standish.

In the kennels it was the appointed time at evening, so Amanda now knelt huge coffee-brown thighed and lowered the bra on her corset. The first bitch to her thus bared breasts was Michaela with, the as of then new bitch Siabon, taking her left. Amanda squatted feeding the bitches with her breasts whilst scenting the floor with her cream as she became aroused by the dependence these lovely girls had on her and at their sweet lips and tongue tips suckling on her beautiful firmly-fully-full breasts, and as she felt her milk flow through her nipples into their ever-eager mouths.

……………….

If Serna was fourteen she was an exceptionally womanly fourteen.

“Cecile says to have a topless waspie on Miss”, Serna's sweet but nervous voice called to Amanda, whom she of course recognised as being the lovely negress she and her friend Romany had lusted after when they had seen her in the distance walking Cecile's bitches whilst they were on their way to school.

The naked negress: naked that is bar her eight-inch-waist-forming waspie, glided before the schoolgirl who was to take charge of her.

Serna instantly hung her head and blushed.

A stray single strand of her brushed and shining, clean but untidy, pitch-black hair was on her strawberry-red lips. As she breathed a virgin-firm-bosom heaving sigh, she raised her blossoming flush-red visage with her pitch-black huge-pupilled saffron-yellow eyes wild and wide, wanting to look and not wanting to look at Amanda's supreme beauty.

Amanda's felt her heart melt and took charge.

“You're a very pretty girl my lady. May I know your name?”

“My name is ‘Serna' miss”, answered the still amazed and discomforted Serna.

“May I make so bold as to call you ‘Serna' my lady?” Amanda enquired.

“Oh no: that would never be right at all!” Serna then answered, rediscovering her composure and recalling that mummy had told her so many times that servants must but must know their proper place.

“I most humbly beg to beg your pardon my lady”, Amanda answered in immediate obedient reflex, and curtsied breast joggle swingingly thighilly low, making Serna blush once more.

Amanda knew that Serna knew that Amanda knew that each of Serna's blushes confirmed she was anointing the gusset of her panties at the sight of the beauty of the near naked Amanda. But Amanda was kind and gentle and would never tease the lovely innocent, even though she was flattered to be the cause of the cream in Serna's virgin sandwich.

“Have you never had hair on it miss?” Serna suddenly asked in transported awe, her stunning startling golden-yellow eyes flicking between Amanda's mouth and her other lips.

“Oh yes: yes of course my lady; but a maid must always be completely shaved my lady” Amanda answered, astonished by the ingénue's innocence, and pleased she had been admiring her, Amanda's that is, virtual virgin tight incurving pee-pod lips.

Amanda was unsure whether to turn her back on Serna, as she reached up to fit her own collar. She didn't, and reached up, and her bountiful breasts were thus lifted aloft and swung and swayed their milk-filled message of beauty and desirability.

“What are those little red things in your nipples miss? Do they hurt?”

Amanda's fear at what she dreaded this evening might have in store for her, butterflied her tummy, and almost made her lash out, tongue wise, in the temper that being forced into what she dreaded could only be horrible, nearly made her express as a safety valve. But this innocent schoolgirl, Serna, was not to blame, and the brief cloud soon cleared from Amanda's sunny visage…………

“I am lactating my lady: I am full with milk. My nipples have to be plugged or my milk will pour down me”, Amanda answered distractedly as she felt for the buckle on her collar with its outfacing needle sharp spikes.

“You're very lovely” Serna whispered with her head hung down once more.

“Thank you my lady. You are very kind”, Amanda answered with gentle genuine sincerity.

Serna audibly gasped with astonishment as Amanda now squatted thus making her thighs monumentally curvaceously enormous to the erotically compelled eyes of the innocent schoolgirl.

Guessing that another compliment, well deserved though it undoubtedly was, was coming, Amanda busied herself binding her ankles to her thighs to make herself as if she were now a bitch, and then rising on all four “paws”: hands as forepaws and knees as rear paws, and thankful for carpet, this hurt her knees so to stand so.

“Sit!” ordered Serna.

And, in immediate reflex Amanda squatted just as she was bade.

……………….

Amanda moved her threesome of bitches on to a wooded area where she preferred they perform their natural functions, and it was there the Alsatian dog pack, led in fact by a ‘she-wolf' of grey muzzled might, whose teeth bared as she viciously snarled and dribbled her spittle, surrounded them.

In an instant, Michaela, Zudina, and Siabon, squatted on their haunches to protect themselves.

Another red drip fell on Amanda's now crimson stained garter-panties' gusset.

“Good boy! Good boy!” Amanda nervously audibly whispered to what she was yet to realise was an Alsatian she-dog, who thus seemed to grow braver and snarled and crawled forward and snapped with her bared teeth.

Amanda knew not what to do. She breathed and heaved her heavenly chest, and the bitch drew nearer still.

Amanda would merely have to let go their leashes to let go the bitches she was walking for exercise, but in her loveliness she feared for them getting a trailing leash caught when they ran to escape.

She must let them free so they could run for protection, that much was clear. So she reached down with heavenly straight girl-confirmatory legs, and let her coffee-dream-moons shine brown and round and wonderful at the she-dog as she undid each bitch's leash, and cast their leads aside from her left wrist, to clap her gloved hands to shoo them away.

This sight of Amanda's beautiful bottom caused the dogs to bark and the bitch to get closer still. Michaela, Zudina, and Siabon squatted right down and hung their heads submissively.

Still fearing for their safety, Amanda again shooed them with her kiss-me-constantly lips, and clapped her prettily-frilly cuffed gloved hands once more to punctuate her message.

Her charges were too frightened to stir, and seemed to want to sink into the ground.

Amanda now stood with her head hanging, tiptoed in her twelve-inch heels with the soft ground of the wood making it so difficult to walk and her stiletto-toed shoes no help, and her anklet hobble even less.

She could not leave her bitches, so she could not run even if her hobble would have let her. She could not run anyway on this soft ground in these shoes and with her ankles tied together so closely.

Help would surely come, but it needed to come quickly if her poor bitches were not to be raped, that much was clear.

Amanda was too gentle by far to ever use it in anger, but now she swung her studded bitch whip to try and ward the dogs off, especially the she-dog pack leader.

All this seemed to do was to make the leader of the pack more courageous.

Amanda knew something horrible was going to happen. In an instant she turned and began to wiggle in her three-inch hobble toward her lovely charges, determined to protect them.

The Alsatian she-dog it was that jumped at Amanda's back to knock her down.

Breathless stunned and astonished, suddenly shockingly dumped on her lovely knees, Amanda tried to get herself up, but with her twelve-inch stiletto-toe-and-heel shoes and her hobble chain, she would never readily stand again without help.

Kneeling she then reached to grasp her tumbled-off charming straw hat, and thus her dress' hem revealed all of her lovely bottom and her waspie corseted waist and the suspenders that ran to her garters from her waspie over her cheeky bottom cheeks, and her frilly lacy garters with their suspenders holding up her stockings, and her seamed canary-yellow stockings.

And Amanda abandoned her hat in fear as the she-dog Alsatian growled at her to keep her down. And a male dog was now tearing, teeth bared and snarling, tearing and tugging at her garter-panties' flimsy gusset, as two others fought to fight him off for the prize.

And at last Amanda gasped out loud as she heard and felt the gusset of-a-sudden volubly tear. And then she gasped and moaned as she felt a cold damp nose nuzzle her warm bare thighs. And she cried aloud with allowed fear at a tongue now eagerly lapping her crimson leak from within the lips of her now exposed slit……

……………….

Earlier saw her bitch-walking on the sidewalk where its stone paving was horribly painful for Amanda's knees and was not quite compensated for by the fact that she could look at the extremely pretty and very shapely calves of Serna's bare legs, as the innocent schoolgirl led her crawling on her leash, to the long white stretch-limousine with a waiting door open and music comprised of ‘thud' ‘thud' ‘thud' ‘thud' ‘thud' accompanied by loud screams and giggles, and more screams of inebriated joy, as stroboscopic blue lights mounted under the auto, played their luminous havoc on the concrete roadway in rhythm with the beat of the disco music within.

Within came a laughing cry of: “Where is it then Cecile, you naughty thing: you pwomised a supwise!” This from Veronica Hayden-Standish in bliss, flushed and shiny-eyed with the girl-champaign she had quaffed all day, the next three bottles of which were in the silver ice-bucket on the luxuriously carpeted floor of the extra-long-stretch Lincoln Continental.

Amanda crawled beautiful beyond nirvana in her bitch-bondage trying hard not to show her pain.

“Where is it then Cecile? You're a little fibber. Cecile is a fibber! Cecile is a fibber! Cecile is a fibber!” chanted Veronica Hayden-Standish before collapsing in intoxicated helpless giggles and crying out: “Oh the bubbles have just gone up my nose!” as she spilt the one-thousand-dollars-a-bottle French-girl-pee she had just sipped, onto her pretty fingers from where it dripped to the deep-piled carpet.

Let off her leash by the timid Serna, Amanda latterly lifted a second bound thigh to fully enter the limousine to astonished and delighted awed silence among the twelve girls touring the town to celebrate the upcoming wedding of one of their peers.

“Oh it's a doggy! It's a doggy! It's a doggy! Cecile you are so so so marvellous I want to kiss you!” cried Veronica.

As she knelt on her knees her legs bound up tightly wearing nothing but the straps that tied those legs and the spiked collar that decorated her divine slim neck, Amanda knew nothing but fear and complete vulnerability.

“She's wactating”, Cecile's voice shouted above the din of the thumping disco beat, as the car's door silently slammed and it lurched forward.

“Oh how scwumptious” cried the bride-to-be.

……………….

Thinking to protect her rear as she knelt helpless on the grass in the wooded parkland, Amanda managed to grasp her lovely straw hat only to end clutching literally at straws, as the she-dog captaining the Alsatian pack tore it from Amanda's dainty gloved fingers with her raw snarling lip curled mouth.

Amanda knew she was going to be shagged. The gusset of her garter panties hung in torn shreds. Her shaven shiny slit slavered her menstruum. To the dogs she was a bitch on heat. Amanda knew she was going to be shagged………..

……………….

Amanda lovely kiss-me-constantly mouth opened with a heavenly sigh as gentle tongues licked the lines of the soles of her bare feet.

Veronica Hayden-Standish and Cecile loved her negress' feet held up and exposed to the passion of their genuine kisses as they were by Amanda's bitch-bondage.

Veronica and Cecile were fascinated by the boundary between Amanda's glorious brownness and the pink and whiteness of the soles of her bare feet. It was so erotic that this one girl contained within her this rainbowic contrast, the boundary of which at the outer sides of Amanda's dainty feet, they now followed with their tongues, as Amanda sighed to let them know how much she loved this, and then gasped open mouthed curling her pretty toes as they both kissed the hollows of her insteps one apiece.

……………….

The filthy cock of the first dog was already in her. His front paw claws were scratching Amanda's back through the thin material of her dress, as his cock was thrust hard up her slit and he was shagging without a care in the world and least of all for her.

……………….

All twelve girls took their turn to kiss Amanda's outstandingly lovely mouth: her literally outstanding negress' lips, her literally lovely negress' mouth. And Amanda was turned-on by their attention and her other lips were seeping as the twelve took turns to kiss her mouth again, whilst two thereafter returned to concentrate on her lovely white-soled feet, kissing them repeatedly and licking them to sensational tickling taunting arousal as Amanda abandondly sighed and girly-gasped.

Cecile now kissed her feet as Veronica showered her face with kisses and the car swept on to the ‘thud' ‘thud' ‘thud' ‘thud' ‘thud' of the disco beat, but with no more giggles but loads more sighs as Amanda felt her nipple plugs being removed and her milk begin to trickle from her nipples on to the curvature of her gravity hung breasts, and from thence drip to the carpet, until eager lips took her teats and with tongues licking, sucked her lachrymose lactation libation, her warm nurturing naturally creamy milk, into their eager mouths.

……………….

As her body rocked back and forth with her shagging, and four more dogs fought to be next, Amanda's full heavy breasts spilled from the quarter-cup bra that topped out her savagely tight corset, and her milk began to drip and then spurt, staining her pretty dress to a transparency behind which her naked brown titties became as visible as if she were bare.

As the bitch tore at her dress to get at Amanda's bosom, the same first dog had his cock in her to his knot: and Amanda was now screaming with pain as he slow shagged her for his and his alone gain…..

……………….

Veronica loved to kiss Amanda's eyelids and Amanda loved the kisses as her natural reflexes closed her eyes in the instant of the warmth and sweet softness of Veronica's mouth anointing them with the gentle passion the lovely negress aroused in her.

But Amanda could not help but shake her pretty head as she felt Cecile's tongue exploring her intimacy intimately, intimating and invasionary intention, until with Veronica changing the focus of her attention too, Amanda was being kissed and tongued on and in her mouths north and south.

……………….

Her dress' top torn to shreds, Amanda's breasts swung and slapped, streaking her body with trickles of her milk: trickles dribbling creamy-white so in contrast with the glorious brown of her soft skin, down which it trickled to totally shameful waste, until her rocking body felt the hot spurt of doggy semen fill her.

As her canine rapist finally withdrew, a snapping snarling fight broke out behind her. Amanda tried so hard to rise, but a threat to bite her neck by the she-dog who led this Alsatian gang, forced her to stay down, and now feel on her bare bum, the doggy cock that was searching for her darkest tunnel.

Such feminine fluids flowed as milk dribbled and menstruum dripped and saliva shone on Amanda's supremely gorgeous lips as she screamed when the next dog's cock rammed into and reamed her anus.

This was so painful. His cock was so rough, She could feel it rip her sphincter so that more of her blood lubricated it and it, as the it that was the dog's huge cock now, shot hard and fully right up her till this second dog's cock-knot tied him too her and sentenced her to be shagged until he might cum and become flaccid once more, a process she could never help since she was so arousing that he was as like to spring to second life among the elect, erect immediately after spurting his first spunk in her bum, and all ready and already in place to shag her bum again.

Tearfully fearfully completely helplessly, Amanda screamed and moaned, and begged for mercy as the second dog now slow-shagged her anus….

……………….

Amanda was in rapture as Veronica kissed her mouth, Cecile her south, and lips loving sucked her milk.

She was a creaming dream as Cecile's lips and tongue sucked her almost juiceless and nibbled her nodding nodule.

Then Veronica seemed to signal to a friend, ready and expert, to show her what she had promised.

“Give her here: I've got a little something for her!” the voice of an ex-sergeantess in the Girl-Navy, ordered as Charmaine Fulsome, present in the stretch-limo on sufferance as a servant and bodyguard rather than a guest, knelt behind Amanda and gently persuaded Cecile aside.

“No: you mustn't!” Cecile protested insincerely and in fact in fascination, as her eyes went from Charmaine to Veronica's wicked smile.

“And why not!?” said Veronica with a grin and drunken wink.

……………….

“No! No! No! No! No!” Amanda silently mouthed in total focus upon the message from her rear orifices, her sundered sphincter, and her dribbling cunt: her mind blinded by the pain, as the grown puppy shagged her bum endlessly, making her cream among her red, as despite her period she became a cum to come, her womanly body reacting as nature had programmed it even as she mentally prayed for her cunt not, please god not, her cunt not to betray her.

……………….

Cecile held her shoulders gently but firmly, as Amanda, almost totally lost in arousal's pleasure became aware that all the other girls had gathered behind her.

At the exploratory entry of four fingers Amanda braced and let out a sigh that told her secret lover, whoever was fingering her, that she just loved it.

It was at the entry of the thumb that Amanda gave a sudden gasp of surprise and pain and fear.

This shocked the limousine's chauffeuse whose eyes had tried, in the rear-view mirror, to see what they were doing to the fabulous negress honey that had crawled into the limo an hour back.

Because, the car lurched and wallowed on its too soft springing, as the chauffeuse got a sharp reminder from a front tyre hitting the curb that she had a duty to concentrate, the making of a fist inside Amanda's cunt was horribly painful and she simply screamed and screamed with fear and horror at how brutally the cruel Charmaine had filled her.

“Oh my god! Oh my god!” Veronica was screaming in joy at the sight of it, “I didn't know you could do that. Oh my god that must hurt! Oh my god the poor wittle girl!”

Charmaine had made her full fist in Amanda's cunt and Amanda was gasping with overwhelmingly agonising pain.

Charmaine then pushed her fist into Amanda up to the wrist, and Amanda screamed and hollered and then began to pant with pleasure at the deep plundering of her treasure, and to rock her body back and forth, and forth and back, to suffer the joy of this brutal pain.

Cecile had swapped places with Veronica so that the bride-to-be could see Amanda being fisted, and it was with Cecile's passionate lips on Amanda's no less passionate mouth that Amanda came: Cecile's passionate kiss and the twisting and turning of Charmaine's fist, fully filling and torturing and fulfilling Amanda's love-juice-dribbling cunt of course.

……………….

The not-long-since-a-puppy Alsatian filled Amanda's lovely bum's dark mystery with pulses of his seed and withdrew.

Amanda made no attempt to rise as the next dog rose on his hind legs and on her back to enter her cunt, and another walked around to her front.

Too impatient to wait behind the fifteen others and the four she-dogs, lined up to take their turn with Amanda's cunt or her anus, and also behind the first dog to take Amanda, which even now was barging snarling and snapping his way up the queue to shag her again, this clever hound was, Amanda just knew, no oracle needed, going to shag her oral orifice…….

White doggy semen, her crimson blood, and her delicious chocolat, trickled from the torn sphincter of Amanda's anus. Crimson menstruum, doggy spunk, and her own excitement-cream dripped from her cunt. Amanda's delicately delicious soft brown skin was spattered with the white milk that had splashed splurted and spurted from her nipples as her tits had been swinging so wildly widely throughout her unmercifully shagging. A while from now, and her hitherto innocent mouth would taste the salt of dog cum: dog spunk would soon drip from her nostrils, just as it would also trickle from heaven's own lips along with her girly-spittle.

………Amanda knelt in agony from her doggy-rape. She watched the dog that had come around to face her face, and saw its cock throbbing raw red erect and ready. The she-dog growled to ensure she did not try to escape her fate. The dog behind her, the third to shag her, rammed his cock hard home in her hot wet cockpit, and she moaned and shock-closed her devil-dark-deep-brown eyes.

Minimal moments later, eyes open again, even as she was having her cunt shagged by the third dog to have her, and having no choice but to turn back shortly hereafterwards to accept the ordeal of a very stiff oral examination: all smoulder, Amanda glanced over her shoulder to try and see the backs of her own legs: ‘Oh god', she prayed, ‘I hope my seams are straight'..