Chapter 15
But Diane Wilson wasn't finished for the evening, not by any means. After blonde Betty had recovered from her furious spend, she languidly lay down on the padded floor and beckoned to Myrna to come to her. The mulatress knelt down, bent over Betty and kissed each of her titties, her gloved hands roaming all over the lovely young body, as Betty sighed and squirmed and arched herself in yearning.
"Get back between my legs, bitch, and suck my cunt until I get ready for Myrna," Betty commanded, and Diane had to obey, her bottom still throbbing agonizedly from its encounter with the three-fingered Scotch tawse.
But after a few minutes, Myrna became envious of this performance and decided to take a more active part in the evening's entertainment. "Now you come here, slave, and open up the cheeks of my bottom and lick my ass-hole!" she ordered.
"Oh no-I can't do that-not that-Oh please, Mistress Myrna, please don't make me do that!" Diane shrieked.
"Let's make her ride the sawhorse and whip ass," Myrna suggested. "I think she's forgetting what little she's learned, and we'd better start reminding her right now."
"Oh my God, don't whip me any more, isn't there any mercy for me? What have I done, to make you torture me so?"
"You know that better than I do, ofay bitch. Seems to me you do forget pretty easy, unless there's somebody standing over you every minute to keep your memory working. Now do you obey, or do you go over that sawhorse and get your cunt rubbed raw and your ass flued raw to match?" the mulatress demanded.
"But my wrists-I can't-I can't-" Diane whimpered.
"That's right. I plumb forgot. Betty lover, hold my ass open for me, would you, darling? There now, Diane, it's all ready for you. Put your tongue to my ass-hole and tell yourself you're giving a trip around the world to a girl you called a nigger bitch just yesterday. Go on and do it, or I'll whip the shit out of you, so help me!"
Terrorized, Diane had to obey. Closing her eyes, she bent her head to the spread bottom-cheeks of her tormentress and obeyed, her tongue slaving at its unaccustomed task until Diane herself was drenched with agony-sweat and profound loathing. Then, panting and gasping, Myrna flung herself down upon the naked body of her blonde rival, and the two girls began to pussy rub frantically, their hands fondling here and there, their tongues digging into each other's mouth.
At midnight, both of them naked now, while poor Diane was at last sleeping in her cell, exhausted, Betty and Myrna lay together on the huge bed in the master bedroom, the bed usually occupied by only Gregson Torrance in this North Hollywood house. Betty was on his right side, Myrna on his left, and they crouched now above him, tonguing him in concert from his chest down to his prick. His eyes were closed in a kind of peaceful ecstasy which, as they worked, gave way to gathering excitement. He opened his eyes at last, pulled Betty atop him, and said, "Myrna honey, open up her bottom and lick her ass. Just enough to get her hotter-you'll get your turn-ah, that's better-" His arms clenched around her, his tongue dug deep into Betty's avid mouth as she squirmed and crushed against him in mounting passion.
Suddenly Myrna withdrew her face from Betty's brown hole and with a deft gesture thrust his swollen sword deep into Betty's moistened, squirming cunt, and Betty's buttocks rolled and heaved as she felt him slip into the haven of her love hole. With a groan, he arched deeper into her, and burst his load with a final gigantic thrust of his manhood.
Then it was Myrna's turn, and both girls went back to tonguing and coaxing until he was ready again, but this time Betty plunged her lips and mouth deep over his swelling prick as Myrna licked and sucked at his nipples, until he was once more couched in the temple of love and found his relief from torment of joy ...
It was noon, and Diane Wilson had already had to go to the bathroom again for the same purpose as the other afternoon. This time it had been Ben who had wiped her clean and who had compelled her to lick his cock, and this time the crushed, terrified naked young woman obeyed, and once again she had to summon all her self-control to keep from vomiting and retching as her mouth and tongue gingerly accepted a Negro prick
Ben had left her in her cell and turned out the lights, telling her that she would have a visitor at lunchtime. Now the lights had come on again, and she had sprung up from her cot, pressing herself against the bars of her cell, panting and trembling in apprehension as she heard footsteps coming closer. Then she uttered a cry of consternation. Walking beside Gregson Torrance was Paul Jasmer, the man she had gone out with for a date and who had told her he was in love with her, and whom she had so insolently rejected.
"P-Paul! Oh, my God, save me! They're keeping me a prisoner here-they're beating me and torturing me-Oh my God, Paul, help me, darling!" Diane cried.
But Paul Jasmer was wearing a bathrobe and sandals, and now to her utter horror and stupefaction, she saw him take a pack of cigarettes from the pocket of the robe, light one, then unbutton the robe and let it fall in a heap on the floor at his feet. He was naked under the robe, and his prick was in savage erection.
"So we meet again, Diane," he chuckled, as he puffed at his cigarette and peered at her through the bars of the cell.
"Paul-what does this mean?"
"use your eyes, baby. It means I've got a hard-on for you. I had one before, when we took that little ride up the Hudson. You didn't seem to think much of it then. Maybe you've changed your mind now," he laconically retorted.
Lovely blonde Betty McDonald and beautiful Myrna followed him into the basement room. Both were wearing dominatress' costumes, with shoulder-high gloves and thigh-long boots, and both beauties wore gusseting corselets, Myrna's of red leather, Betty's of blue, which touched them at the mid-point of their bubbies, descended as far as their hips, and then sent a narrow, snug band over their cunts, but left their bottoms bare. Gregson Torrance was also clad in bathrobe and sandals, and the two Negroes wore their customary jockstraps and sandals. At Gregson Torrance's order, Ben unlocked the door of Diane's cell, drew her outside, sobbing and pleading for mercy. She flung herself down on her knees and turned her face up to Paul Jasmer's handsome, coldly indifferent face.
"Oh please, darling, please save me from them!" she entreated.
"This sudden conversion of yours isn't too convincing yet," he remarked. "You say she's been trained a little?"
"She has indeed, old man," Gregson Torrance laughed. "She's learned to French a Negro for the privilege of having her patrician bottom wiped after a good shit."
"Well now, that at least is some improvement," Paul Jasmer laughed, while Diane bowed her head and turned scarlet down to her earlobes and throat, from very shame. "But if you'll French a Negro, dear, maybe you'll do the same for me-that is, if I decide to save you."
"Oh Paul, how could you treat me this way if you really loved me?" she sobbed.
"That's not the attitude of a properly trained bitch," he countered. "I want to see this girl whipped and made to submit, before I take her back, Greg."
"Of course. Now what about the estate?"
"I haven't the least interest in her estate. I told her then that I have plenty of money of my own, and I make a pretty damn good salary in addition from my ad agency. I'm on vacation now-I've got a week left. It's up to her whether I take her back to New York with me or leave her here to do with as you wish," Paul Jasmer explained.
"Oh don't-don't leave me here! How can you, Paul?" Diane Wilson wailed.
But again he ignored her and addressed himself to the suave gray-haired banker. "Of course, Greg, taking a part of her estate for your services is quite proper. But I don't exactly go along with robbing this haughty little bitch of every cent she has. You can't really blame her parents for not knowing what she was, and you can't defraud them, not when you were their best friend at one time."
"I know. Of course, I've got expenses."
"There's plenty of money there to cover your expenses," Paul Jasmer interrupted. "Besides, I'm sure Diane can be persuaded to give you a very handsome fee for this new education to life which she has had coming for such a long time."
"Yes, yes-I told him I'd pay him if only he'd let me go. Please, Paul, please make him let me go!" Diane whimpered. "I'll be such a good girl!"
"We'll see about that later," Paul Jasmer brushed her plea aside. "Greg, why don't you prepare a waiver for, say a hundred grand, which I'm sure our charming little heiress will be very happy to sign, after due persuasion. That ought to content you, unless you're greedier than I thought."
Gregson Torrance shrugged as he lit a cigar. "Well, to tell the truth, I did have hopes of getting a good deal more. But so be it! After all, this has been a wonderful experience, and I've acquired another lovely consort along the way-" he put his arm around Betty McDonald, and then, so Myrna wouldn't get jealous, put his other arm around her waist, too. "I think the two of us and myself can get along very nicely on that hundred thousand. I'll go do that right now. Meanwhile, Ben and Joe are at your disposal, as well as the girls-but don't be too greedy with them, old man, not if you don't want me to be greedy with your little princess there."
The two men laughed, shook hands, and Gregson Torrance went upstairs to prepare the waiver.
Paul Jasmer stood before the woman he wanted to marry, naked, his prick rigid and thrusting out, clearly visible to Diane. He watched her cringe and avert her eyes, her head bowed, her wrists still shackled behind her back. He thought he had never seen a more delicious and piquant female than she was at this very moment.
"Well, as you heard, Diane, Greg and I have come to some sort of understanding. You'll sign the waiver and give him a hundred thousand dollars out of your estate. On those terms, he'll release you to me, if that's acceptable."
"Oh yes-oh th, thank you-oh my God, I'll be so grateful!"
"I expect you to be. But before I take you out of here, before I accept that deal, I want some proof of your sudden and newly found humility. Start by sucking my cock!"
"Oh please, darling, don't-don't disgrace me-don't shame me in front of them-"
"You see? You still aren't thoroughly converted. I'm afraid you'll have to be punished first. Myrna, Betty, let's take her into this nice wide cell with all the equipment and find out just how willing our heiress can be when she's faced with necessity," Paul Jasmer said.
And while Diane wept and pleaded for mercy, the two beautiful young women, giggling delightedly, seized her by the arms and hauled her to her feet, then dragged her into the "rumpus room."
This time they unlocked the handcuffs, but only to tie her wrists to the whipping post in cross, stretching her tightly. Then, squatting, each girl seized an ankle and dragged it out as far as it would go, tied with a cord and made the other end of the cord fast to a metal ring set into the padding of the floor of this coercional chamber. Thus Diane's loins were lewdly exposed, the ambery-shadowy groove between her ass-cheeks widely distended, and a full view of her pink virgin cunt was on display.
Betty McDonald studied the handsome advertising man, her eyes feasting on his stiff, dark-veined prick. She was a little envious, for of course Paul Jasmer was younger and handsomer than Gregson Torrance, and he just might be a better lover. But she understood also that he had a fixation about this brown-haired heiress, and there wasn't much she could do about it. However, there was something she could do right now, and she did. She went down on her knees and cupped his prick in both palms, then deposited a tender kiss right on the bulging lips which were puckering to hold back his gismic outpouring.
"I hope you don't mind, Paul dear," she cooed.
"Not at all, Betty. But now, let's teach this naughty slavegirl a much-needed lesson. Would you like to give her a spanking? I understand Myrna did the other day."
"I'd love to!"
Diane Wilson turned her contorted, tear-stained face back over her shoulder to implore mercy, but already Betty McDonald had approached, thrust the fingers of her left hand into Diane's brown curls and began to yank them, while with her right palm she started to spank the voluptuous, jutting bottom, so defenselessly offered up to her vengeful sadism.
And soon Diane's cries were ringing out in the cell as she wriggled and twisted, trying to weave her bottom away, but the huge straddle of her bound ankles prevented her avoiding a single slap, and soon her abused behind was again a flaming crimson, and she was begging brokenly and hysterically to be spared.
"Here's a paddle, Betty," Paul Jasmer said helpfully, as he took one down from the panoply on the wall. "Now then, Diane, you're going to get the paddle until you agree first to French Joe and Ben and then me. But with me, you're going to swallow all my spunk. Is that understood?"
"Oh my God-if you love me-oh no-no!"
"Start spanking," he ordered.
Nothing loathe, Betty McDonald drew the paddle back and then landed it, holding the handle with both hands so that it crashed and landed against the jutting, flaming summits of both Diane Wilson's crimson ass-cheeks. A wild scream rang out, and the young woman arched and twisted and struggled in her bonds, jerking at her bound wrists which were drawn out at either side in cross, tilting her head back, eyes fixed on the ceiling and blinded with tears.
"That was a dandy. Give her another just like that," Paul Jasmer demanded.
"Oh no-ooowwweeeeowwwouuuu!! ! ! I'll do it-I'll do anything you want-anything-only make her stop spanking me-I'm dying, oh I can't stand it any more!" Diane shrieked.
"And you'll French the Negroes and me, to finish up? Answer quickly, or Betty will keep paddling," he warned.
"Oh yes, I'll do anything, anything, only put that awful paddle down-I'm dying-I'll do it, I'll do it!"
She was released by Myrna and Betty, although the latter was most reluctant to leave off after such a successful start with getting back her revenge on this haughty heiress who had treated her like a mere flunky back in New York.
Then down on all fours, sobbing as if her heart would break, Diane Wilson was compelled to lick and kiss and suck first Joe's swollen prick, and then Ben's though both moved away at the critical moment and clapped their hands over their organs to hold back the flow of spunk.
And then Paul Jasmer advanced, bent down to her and cupped her tearstained, contorted face in his hands and hissed, "Now we'll see just how good you are in obeying, bitch, and on this is going to depend how I decide whether to take you back to New York and let you try to behave yourself, or whether I leave you here for a little more training."
At this, Diane Wilson forgot all her patrician upbringing, all her breeding, all her wealth and arrogance. She opened her mouth and took all of Paul Jasmer's prick into it that she could manage, and then she began to slurp and suck noisily, her eyes rolling as she looked fearfully up at his face to study the effect her abject servility was having on him. He clenched his fists, his face stern and taut, letting her see nothing except his own brooding, menacing authoritativeness. But the expert Frenching she performed on him, born out of desperation and fear, took its toll of him, and he suddenly uttered a shout, a bellow of joy, and gushed his spunk deep into her mouth.
"You better swallow it, honey, or back on the flipping post you go," Betty hissed into the young woman's ear.
Gagging and retching, Diane at last managed to swallow Paul Jasmer's gism. Then, putting her hands to her face, her shoulders heaving with sobs, she wept disconsolately over her degradation, knowing that now she had sunk as low as she could ever sink.
"Now, that wasn't too bad. I'll give you a chance, Diane. I'll take you back with me-when the week of vacation is up-and all that time you're going to get paddled and you're going to get taught to do new things to please your husband. Maybe your husband. And then back in New York, I'll give you another week of probation. If you please me, if you've completely lost your holier-than-thou attitude, I'll marry you. Otherwise, I'll send you right back here-and you know I mean it," he laid down his ultimatum to her.
"Oh Paul, I'll do just anything-you know that-only please get me out of here-I'll be the best wife, the best slavegirl-anything you want!" she panted.
"I'm going to ask the supreme test of you right now, baby. I'm going to ask you to beg me to fuck you," was his answer.
She gasped, her eyes huge with astonished consternation. But when she saw the two huge Negroes moved closer to her, when she saw the mulatress and the blonde take a step towards her, she shivered and gasped, "All right-I'll do it, I'll do anything!"
"Then stretch out on your back, spread your legs, and ask me to fuck you. Sweetly and humbly, Diane Wilson," he commanded.
Trembling, blushing, in a hardly audible voice that broke with sobs and gasps, Diane Wilson uttered the formula which completely spelled the end of her haughty regime as a prickteaser and dominatress over men: "Pl-please darling, I beg of you-I entreat you-I'm asking you please to f-fuck me, Paul darling!"
Seeing her there straddled and offered had raised his prick to new vigor again. He knelt down between her thighs, his hands kneading her titties, and then he lowered himself over her.
"Now put your arms around me and lock your legs around my thighs just as soon as you feel my prick in your cunthole," he directed.
Diane obeyed, and then gasped and stiffened as she felt his ramrod press against the virgin barrier. But, disregarding her plaintive sobs at this imminent virgin loss, Paul Jasmer ground his teeth and thrust vigorously, bursting the membrane and hilting her to his very balls.
Then, as she lay sobbing, her legs and arms still wrapped around him, he began to fuck her slowly. And when at last he had jetted his essence into her, he rose from her and said, "All right, Diane, I'll take you back to New York with me at the end of the week. But the next time we fuck, I'll expect a little more life and animation, and a little more attempt to please your master. Because, even though you're going to be Mrs. Paul Jasmer, you're still going to be my little slavegirl and you're still going to get the whip every time you don't obey your lord and master."
"Oh yes, darling, Paul, yes!" Diane Wilson breathed.
And thus it was that the humiliation of Diane
Wilson came to its happy, if harrowing, end!
"Greg old man, this is Paul Jasmer."
"Well, how are you, Paul boy? Glad to hear from you. How time flies-it's been six months since I last saw you and your charming bride-by the way, how is our little Diane?"
"You wouldn't recognize her, Greg. That's why I'm calling you." Paul Jasmer, handsome advertising executive, lolled in his den in a leather-padded armchair, clad only in an open satin bathrobe, his feet bare. Brown-haired Diane Jasmer, kneeling humbly before him, had her arms circling his sturdy thighs, and was cradling her head on one of his knees. She was naked except for red leather high-heeled pumps, black opera-length hose and purple rosette garters high on her long thighs, and her nipples were tinted a deep scarlet with lipstick-at her husband-master's strict order.
Gregson Torrance was at the little house in North Hollywood-for his "client" was none other than gorgeous mulatress Myrna Johnson herself. He had purchased the house for her for a song, after Diane's signing the waiver along with ceding him a good deal of her trust fund and found her a job with a friend of his a divorce attorney who needed a lovely, exotic receptionist. Betty McDonald had moved to the North Hollywood house also, and was working as a secretary to a noted stag-movie producer who occasionally used her as a model. She had developed a furious Lesbian passion for Myrna, and the two young women were virtually inseparable. Gregson himself visited four or five times a year on business, and would spend a hectic week or two locked up in the master bedroom of this house with both beauties servicing his every sexual whim, from Frenching to buggering. Their polyandry extended to his fucking one while she gammed the other girl who would kneel astride her. Or again, he would watch as both pussy rubbed or did sixty-nine, and then when his lust began to boil in his veins, he would seize either or the other and fuck her to a fare-thee-well.
Back in New York, meanwhile, he had replaced Betty McDonald with Kathleen Purcell, a tall, willowy, auburn-haired girl of 20, with a mournful, sweet face, extremely shy-except in bed. Kathleen had tripped over a folder one day and spilled an inkwell on his suit, burst into tears and been frantically apologetic because she was only three months on the job and afraid of being fired. He had questioned her, learned she lived with an elderly, very strict aunt, that she was a virgin but eager to break away and lead a life of her own. By dint of telling her that she really should be fired and that he had a good mind to give her a sound spanking for her carelessness, Gregson Torrance had turned the accident into a brand-new bed partner for himself while he remained in New York.
For Kathleen, turning scarlet to her earlobes, had stammered that she wished he would spank her and forgive her and not fire her, so he had had her stay after office hours, then locked his private office door, made her hoist up skirt and petticoat and lie over his lap. Tucking his left arm round her waist, he had lectured her sternly, then begun to spank her ripely curved, oval ass-cheeks over her panties till she was sobbing and wriggling deliciously. Then, on the pretext that the spanking was only half over and that if she wanted to save her job by proving her total submission, he lowered her panties and finished the spanking till she forgot her pride and virginity and shame and kicked wildly and tearfully implored mercy, wailing "Ohh-oww, ohh, Mr. Torance, I'll do anything in the world if you'll only stop and let me off, p-l.-l please, owwouuuu!"
He had lifted her to her feet, her panties tangled round her calves, and, his hands squeezing her flaming pale ivory-tinted ass-cheeks, had subtly questioned her. She flung her arms round his neck and kissed him, and from then gently he had pushed her back on the couch, hoisted skirt and petticoat up to her heaving uptilted, wide-spaced titties, and thrust his prick into her twitching cunt, while his hands squeezed the resilient, warm spank-reddened globes of her naked, wriggling bottom as he taught shy virginal Kathleen how to become a passionate woman. After the first twinge of cherry-loss, the half-nude young beauty moaned and sobbed in delirious ecstasy, clamping her arms and legs round him and giving him back kiss for kiss, and even wanted him to fuck her again after he had gushed his violent spend into her tight churning womb. The next night, he took her to dinner and then to his swanky apartment, where he made her strip naked and then loved her gently, finally coaching her in how to French a man and cuddle his prick between aft ivory-satiny titties. So by now, Kathleen here in New York and Myrna and Betty back in the little house in the North Hollywood hills furnished Gregson Torrance all the cunt he could handle.
This weekend, however, while Kathleen was sighing nostalgically for her missing lover and having a hard time keeping her mind on the details of handling his office detail during his absence, Gregson Torrance was living riotously with Betty and Myrna, Indeed, just as Paul Jasmer was being homaged by his beautiful light-brown-haired wife and love slave Diane, so Gregson Torrance, naked in sandals, was returning the long-distance phone call lying in the huge bed (in the room he had walled and ceiling by mirrors) with Myrna and Betty lying on each side of him fondling his prick and learning over his paunchy naked body to exchange French-kisses.
"Well now," the banker chuckled huskily-for by now Betty's pert pink tongue was rubbing his balls in a most demanding way that was bringing his spunk up to pucker the lips of his meatus and remind him that fucking time was very close "what can I do for you, Paul boy?"
"You know, it was in your house that I first found my wife," Paul Jasmer looked down at the blushing nude light-brown-haired young woman crouching at his feet-"and it sort of an anniversary for us both. Six months tomorrow that Diane and I became master and slave, or, if you prefer, husband and wife. And we'd sort of like to spend it out there in the place that really brought us together.
"Hey now, boy, that's a terrific idea! I'm all for it. I've got another week out here winding up my business before I get back to Manhattan, so why don't you and Diane fly out here and join us?"
"Great, and thanks! Only, there's one thing."
"What's that, Paul?"
"You remember Ben and Joe, the two Negroes who helped convince my uppity little girl that she had better behave herself?"
"Of course I do. Why do you ask?"
"Think you could find them again and have them out there when we arrive, Greg?"
"It's possible. I've kept in touch, and they both have jobs as actors in a suburban restaurant-theatre. Why do you want them?"
"To put Diane through her paces again so she can show me what a welltrained eager little bitch she's become, that's why."
"Now that I'd like to see myself. I'll put in a call to them both this evening. Then you and Diane will arrive tomorrow?"
"Right-and thanks again!"
"Thank you, Paul boy." Gregson Torrance laughed as he hung up. Then, turning to his two naked mistresses, he gasped, "Now, one of you, for God's sake, get on me and fuck!"
It was svelte chocolate-skinned Myrna who pushed Betty playfully away, and wriggled on top of the naked banker, who lay on his back, his swollen prick pointing up in the air. Swiftly grabbing the tip with right thumb and forefinger and opening her twitching pink quimlips with the fingers of her left hand, Myrna impaled herself and sank down with a moan of bliss as she felt his hard rooting ramrod gouge the volutes of her sensitive lovechannel. Betty, miffed, crouched behind the mulatress and applied a stinging little handspanking, which made Myrna groaned and writhe furiously as lust soon swept her to the cataclysmic burst of passionate climax with her banker lover.
"That's not fair," Betty pouted.
"Just for that, young lady, over Myrna's lap you go for a paddling till you can suck my prick back to life for your itchy impatient little cunt,"
Gregson Torrance decreed.
And so, with a sigh of feigned dismay, blonde Betty crawled over Myrna's thighs as the latter sat up on the bed, and was soon gasping and wriggling her velvety bare seat as Myrna's palm smacked rapidly down all over the huddling globes while her mouth frantically sucked Gregson Torrance's limp, greasied ramrod till it began to throb and swell with vitality once more. Then with a squeal, she told Myrna, "Cut it out, it's my turn for a rogering now!" and hastily straddled him and impaled herself the same wanton way. Thus Gregson Torrance could look up and see Betty's jiggling titties and the sight of her pink cunt lips gaped apart by his swollen tool as she arched and sank, speeding the tempo till at last she came.....
Paul Jasmer closed the door of the secluded North Hollywood house behind him and stared coldly at his blushing bride. "Get ready, bitch," he said, as he opened his leather briefcase and took out a pair of handcuffs and a dog collar and leash.
"Y-yes, master," Diane blushed adorably as she hastily began to undress. "Should I keep my garter belt and stockings on?"
"Hm. well, all right."
"Thank you, master." Diane was down to panty and bra set, husked them off and knelt down before him, her nipples still lip stick painted and the marks of a quite recent switching showing in crisscross patterns on her shapely white ass.
Paul Jasmer calmly and expertly attached the dog collar, fixed the leash to the metal ring, and then ordered her to put her wrists behind her back.
As soon as she had done so, he handcuffed her. Then, gruffly, he ordered, "Crawl on your knees to Greg's bedroom. There are some friends of yours waiting."
"Yes, master. I promise to be awfully obedient here, you know I will," she murmured.
"You'd better. That switching I gave you before we got on the plane last night was just to remind you who's master."
"Oh, I know! I'll be so good, you'll be proud of me," Diane avowed.
He led her down the carpeted hallway to the last room at the right, and there he chuckled as he saw Gregson Torrance lolling naked on the bed, with Myrna and Betty naked beside him, and Joe and Ben, in just their sandals, standing off to one side.
"Greet your masters and mistresses, bitch," Paul Jasmer told his beautiful young wife. He bent to unlock the leash.
Promptly Diane Jasmer crawled towards the two Negroes, bowed her head and kissed their feet humbly, then lifted her face to them and requested, in a tiny little-girl voice, "Please, may I suck your cock?"
"Shonuff, honeygal," Ben cackled, with a nudge to his crony ribs. "Lookit dat little ofay gal make up with ol' Ben head. . remembah how much trouble I had wid the l'il prickteaser last time she was here?"
"Sure do," Joe laughed.
Diane had reverently cupped Ben's prick and balls in her soft palms, and began to whisk out her nimble pink tongue, to flick the scrotum, balls and shaft. Then, after a few minutes of that devotional, she began to mouth his cockhead, which grew swollen with lust. He squinted down at her, licking his lips, then put his fingers in her light brown hair, which was now coiffed in a thick pageboy with curls turned under, and, tensing his hold, snarled, "Ah'm gonna gib you all mah spunk, ofay bitch, so drink it down and don't miss a drop, you head me?"
"Mff-ahh-y-yes-m-master," Diane gulped, looking up with humid dilated and humble eyes, then went back to cocksucking for all she was worth.
In a few moments, Ben uttered a bellow of delight and his squat body jerked violently as his gism drenched the walls of Diane's throat; feverishly, she swallowed and managed to down the copious load, and then thanked him humbly for the privilege of servicing him. . moving now to Joe, she begged permission to French him the same way, was granted it, and began to lick and suck and nuzzle his cock. But as a variance, Joe demanded that she take his prick between her bubbies and "milk me dry that way, baby," and the young woman instantly obeyed. Grabbing hold of her bubbies, she clutched his tool between them and began to wriggle about, while he pressed himself to and fro to get the fictional feel of a glorious tittie-fuck. When he spurted, he let the gism spatter her face and throat and chest, then ordered, "Now ask your hubby to unlock your handcuffs."
Diane turned crawled to Paul, who was being pleasantly welcomed by Betty McDonald, who had slipped out of bed, knelt down, opened his fly and was fondling and licking his cock, and begged her husband to unlock the handcuffs, which he did. Then Joe ordered, "Now you jist take your li'l white hands and scoop up mah spunk and gibble it down, "and she did.
Next, she was obliged to crawl to Betty McDonald, and ask permission of the latter to gam her, which Betty gleefully agreed to; Paul watched his brown-haired wife grip Betty's white ass-cheeks and suck pussy till at last the blonde inamorata of Gregson Torrance moaned and wriggled and gave down her love essence to that expert mouth and tongue.
And then it was Myrna's turn. The mulatress looked down at the heiress, who was busy pussy lapping, and smiled over at Paul, "Mr. Jasmer honey, that's the best-trained gammer and bitch I've ever seen. You did a great job."
"Thanks, Myrna dear, but you're really the one who started her in the right direction. If you hadn't taught her to get over her stupid bigotry, I'd really have had lots more trouble with her," Paul Jasmer smilingly replied.
And after Myrna had come, and then Diane had paid respects to Gregson Torrance by opening his ass-cheeks and giving him a trip around the world, Paul ordered, "All right, bitch, time to take care of your own master. Crawl over here and French me while Myrna and Betty paddle your naughty behind good and hard." And Diane obeyed, moaning and sobbing and wriggling as the two naked beauties each applied a leather paddle to her naked behind, one to each cheek, but she didn't forget to make her lord and master come furiously, after which he pronounced himself satisfied with her conversion.
And for a week, Diane Wilson Jasmer serviced all the occupants of this house where she had learned the lesson of humiliation!