Chapter 10

Justine woke up. There was sunlight stream­ing through a window. She turned, finding herself in a bed, well-made, with sheets and pillows. She was naked. Across from her was another bed with Queenie in it, asleep still, her sexy little face strangely calm.

Justine looked around. It was a medium-sized room, looked as if it might contain guests some times. She sat up in bed, getting a pang of pain from her ass.

She examined herself carefully. Her tits were red and bruised and her ass was in even worse shape, pulped and incredibly sore to the touch. She rubbed it and was horrified to feel the pain that shot out, but also mingled with that sen­suality that had betrayed her so badly the night before. She stared at the door, and went over to it, just to see if it was unlocked.

It wasn't, but the sound of her turning it woke Queenie up. The little blonde shot up in bed.

"Are you all right?" she gasped.

"Yes," Justine said. "I was just seeing if the door was open."

"Do you remember much about last night?" Queenie asked timidly.

"No," Justine said. She was fighting her sense of shame. She knew she had given in to a lot of things, that she'd come while suffering the most degrading sexual acts.

"You went crazy," Queenie said, "you-"

"Shut up!" Justine snapped. "I don't wanna know."

"No," Queenie said, "you gotta listen. You were demanding all the men fuck you, you bitched them out and got the shit whipped outta you and still came back for more. Fuck, you didn't stop coming for hours."

Justine looked at her friend's red tits, streaked with harder lines of crimson pain. "Shut up, I don't remember."

They were stopped from anything further by the arrival of Karen and Diana. The two maids were just in robes and grinned at the two girls.

Diana gave them each a bra and panty set, a light dress and the shoes they had arrived in. Then she led them through to Verna's room.

Justine tried to keep her eyes down, but she couldn't help looking up at her tormentor. Verna smiled at her, a strange look in her eyes. She let them stand there while she wrote something on a piece of paper. Then she put the paper in an envelope.

"If we ever meet again," she said, "I'll give this to you to read."

If there was one thing Justine was certain of, it was that she and Verna would never meet again. One weekend of pain and humiliation was more than enough.

"Your coats, girls," Verna said.

Both of them gasped as the fur coats were handed to them. Justine looked at it.

"But these aren't ours!" she gasped.

"Yes, they are," Verna said. "Don't tell me you didn't earn them. We have some old friends to take you home."

The door opened and in came Norman and Ian, in full uniform.

Queenie gave a low shriek. Justine just looked at the cops with steely eyes. They couldn't frighten her any more.

"Oh, don't worry," Verna said, "you owe them a fuck for taking you home, but it's a straight deal now, no violence unless you play up."

Justine grinned. She strolled over to the two cops. "Come on, Queenie, let's show them what we learned."

"Here?" groaned Queenie.

"Why not? You prefer the back seat of a cop car?" Justine said.

She swayed over to Norman and slid the short dress up her thighs, showing him her panties, pushing the coat to the side.

"Ready?"

"Uh, yuh," he said.

"Come on, Queenie," Justine said. She slipped to her knees and slid Norman's pants open, working his zipper down, reaching in, and taking out his swollen cock.

Queenie did the same with Ian, her hands trembling as she remembered what he had done to her.

Justine slid her soft mouth down the length of Norman's cock, sliding it into her throat in an instant, letting her muscles work over the throbbing cockhead, sucking at the rigid prick. He gave a groan of lust and grabbed at her dark hair.

She looked over at Queenie, sucking Ian's stiff cock. He too held Queenie by her hair, thrusting his cock at her throat.

Justine sank her soft throat deeper on his cock and Norman gave a great bellow of lust.

"Christ," he yelled, "what did you teach her! Ohhhh fuck!"

His cock shot hot cum into Justine's tight throat. She held him there as he bellowed and heaved, his cock emptying fast into her stomach.

Justine eased her mouth back up his soften­ing cockshaft, licking up all the cum that re­mained as she went. She cleaned off his cockhead, grinning triumphantly at him.

Then she glanced at Queenie, still sucking, tears rolling down her young face and Justine was ashamed again. She had to stop herself fall­ing like this whenever a cock appeared. She watched as Ian came, shooting into Queenie's soft little mouth, roaring the whole time as Queenie sobbed and wept.

They got into the police car and drove to Queenie's home in silence.

Inside the house, they made sure that Queenie's mother wasn't home.

For the rest of the weekend, they didn't discuss the thing at all. Justine went home and the two girls just met at school. Justine managed to hide her bruises from her parents and was amazed at how fast they went down.

By Wednesday it was obvious that something was wrong. The two girls went for coffee after school.

"You healed okay?" Queenie said.

"Yeah, real well," Justine said.

"Same here," Queenie said. She looked out of the window. "You having problems?"

"Yeah," Justine said. She too stared out of the window for a while. "Ohhhh fuck, I want it so bad, I can't do without it."

"Yeah," Queenie said, tears rolling down her face. "Same here."

"We gotta do something," Justine said.

On Saturday morning, their first call was to the police station.

"Please," Justine said, "this really nice policeman saved my cat, he was called Norman. I'd like to thank him."

It didn't take long to find the Norman she wanted, for nobody in the station had any suspicions.

Norman's house was a wood frame one in the suburbs. He nearly choked as he opened the door to find them there in their fur coats.

"What the fuck are you doing here," he spat.

Justine saw his wife behind him, a rather plain-looking woman, running to fat. "We'd like to thank you for saving our cat."

"Uh?" he said. "So?"

"We'd also like the address of that lady who helped, you know, Verna," Justine said with a grin.

"Fuck off!" Norman hissed. "Or I'll run you in for shop-lifting."

He was furious and sweating as his wife came closer.

"Just the address," Justine said sweetly, "or we'll start telling tales of our own, to your wife."

Norman gave them the address.

Verna wasn't at all surprised to see them. She was at her desk doing some work. She gazed at them for a few moments, then opened her desk and took out the envelope from the week before.

"Well?" she said.

Justine felt her chest heaving. Verna had a strange smile on her face as she flicked the envelope in her hand.

"We-we want to come back," Justine said with a rush. "We want to be like Karen and Diana."

Verna smiled and came around the desk. She handed the envelope to Justine. "Go on," she said.

Justine tore it open with fingers that trembled badly. The not inside read-Within a month, you will both be back to become two of my girls.

Justine broke into tears and gave the note to Queenie who read it and just stood there, staring.

Verna slid her hand under Justine's chin and lifted her face.

"I said I'd get you." She moved in and kissed Justine softly on the lips. "You'll have the time of your life here."

"Yes, mistress," Justine sobbed.

"Hmmmm," Verna said, "we'll see about the mistress bit. I'm not sure which way you'll go. Anyway, let's go and get dressed, shall we?"

She led them down the hall to a room they hadn't seen before. It was a luxurious dressing room with mirrors, seats, makeup, and racks of sexy clothes.

"My girls get the best," Verna said, "so en­joy yourselves, the party starts in about two hours. Oh, rules of the house are on the table."

She left them alone.

Justine picked up the rules and found that there were very few. As full members of the house, they even had a vote in which men were allowed to join the club. Once a man was a member, however, the girls were forbidden to refuse him anything. They could proposition the men any time they wanted and fuck each other whenever they wanted.

"Shit," Justine said, "these aren't rules, these are invitations."

As they showered, the excitement mounted in both girls until it was almost unbearable. As they were sitting, giggling in front of the mir­ror, experimenting with makeup, the door open­ ed and Diana came in. She took one look at them and froze. "Fuck!" she gasped.

"Yes," Justine said with a grin, "we're back."

Diana shook her head. "Jesus," she whispered and went to get dressed.

Finally, dressed as two of Verna's maids, in the short black dressed, matching bra, slip and panty sets, they went along the main room in the company of the other four.

There were about fifteen men gathered in the main room and this time a few women, who stared at the maids with almost outright hatred.

"Who the fuck are they?" Justine whispered.

"Rich bitches," Diana whispered back. "They think they fuckin' own us. Most of 'em are wives and don't like us fucking their husbands."

"Why do they come then?" Justine said.

"Fuck if I know," Diana said easily. "I think they just like taking it out on us when we bring their men off."

Justine was in a fever of excitement as she picked up a tray of appetizers and walked among the men, handing them out as wanted. She saw Verna over by the door, dressed in her leather outfit and that gave her a surge of new excitement.

One of the guests stopped Justine.

"I missed you last week," he said, his eyes working up and down her luscious figure.

"Thank you, sir," Justine purred. He was a tall, good-looking man, in an expensive suit, and he exuded an air of power. "I hope we meet later."

"Count on it," he said, and, as his eyes traveled slowly up her stockinged legs, Justine eased the hem of her short, black dress up, over her suspender straps to the crotch of her panties. "Yes," he said, his voice hard with lust, "you can count on that." Justine smiled and was on her way back to the table when one of the rich bitches stopped her, grabbing her arm.

"You keep your hands off my fuckin' -husband!" she snarled.

Justine looked her up and down. She was an ash blonde, with a hard, beautiful face, sharp blue eyes, and wide, pouting mouth. Her high thrusting tits heaved at the front of an expen­sive dark blue dress. She stared at Justine with open hostility.

Justine felt an incredible rash of fury soar­ing over her.

"If he wants to fuck me," she spat, "he's go­ing to, so fuck off!"

The woman swung her arm and tried to slap Justine, her open palm swinging in on the young girl.

Something in Justine snapped. She had no idea what she was doing, nor did she care. She grabbed the woman's arm, dropping the tray to the floor. In a haze of anger, she twisted the blonde's arm behind her back and shoved her forward, towards the back of a chair.

"Let go of me!" the woman yelled.

Justine expected to be stopped at any second, and punished severely for what she was doing, but she didn't care. She was discovering that she was stronger than she ever thought she could be as she slammed the woman face down over the chair back.

"You don't tell me what to do, bitch!" she screamed, "I'm gonna suck your husband off right in front of your fuckin' face, bitch! Hey, get me some rope. I'm gonna teach this whore a lesson."

To her utter amazement, she saw Verna give Diana and Queenie some rope and the two girls brought it over to her. She held the struggling blonde down over the chair almost effortless­ly. She was heady with excitement, her pussy running with lust juice.

"Tie her up!" she snapped.

"Are you going to whip my wife?" the man who had stopped Justine asked.

Justine hadn't realized where she was going until that moment. She gasped, and looked around. Close by stood Verna, grinning, holding a thin cane.

"Yes," she said defiantly.

"Good," he said, "she needs it."

"What? You fucker, Joe!" the woman screamed. "Let me go, let me up!"

Justine gasped, her tits heaving with lust. She walked up to Joe, leading him close to his wife as Diana and Karen grabbed her wrists and lashed them to the front chair legs.

"Then you have to let me blow you, right here," she cooed, sliding close to him, pushing her red hot pussy over his leg as she clung, caressing her body over his.

"You bet," he said and Justine slid her hand down, over his cock, feeling it jump like crazy as she touched it.

"I'm a bad girl too, sometimes," she purred. "If I'm a bad girl, would you punish me?"

"I'd have to," he said. "Can't let bad girls run around, can I?"

Justine gasped again, her hand tightening on his cock as it throbbed in his pants.

"Just tell me what I have to do to be a bad girl," she whispered.

His cock was heaving wildly in his pants.

"Well," he said as his wife yelled and screamed over the back of the chair, threaten­ing them all with revenge the moment she was free. "If you were to tear my wife's expensive dress, for example, that would make you a bad girl."

"Oh, yes, sir," Justine whispered.

She stepped away from him, amazed at her pulsating lust. It had taken her over, possessed her utterly. She was a slave to it and she didn't want it any other way.

She paraded behind the yelling, struggling wife.

"Now, now, Sally," Joe said, "watch your language."

"You shit-faced fucker!" Sally yelled. "Let me go, stop that!"

Justine was running her hands up the back of Sally's thighs, spreading the dress out as she went. The guests were gathering closer, watching intently. As Sally screamed at her, Justine slid her fingers under her lacy suspender straps and flicked one of them against her white thigh. Sally jerked and screeched with anger.

Justine ignored her, slowly working the dress up her thighs. But, even with the slit, it wouldn't go all the way.

"Well, well," Justine said nastily, her pussy overflowing with lust, "I'll have to tear it."

"You fucker, stop that!" This dress cost seven-hundred-aaaaaahhh! You little shit!" Sally screamed as Justine ripped the seam of the dress, inch by inch, until it was halfway up her back.

Justine pouted, running her tongue over her lips. Joe's eyes went misty with lust as he watched the once-innocent schoolgirl degrading his wife.

Justine pushed the sides of the dress apart.

"Ohhhh, that's a nice ass," Justine cooed, running her hand over Sally's heaving ass cheeks.

"You shitty whore!" Sally screamed. "You wait, I'll get you, whore."

Sally had great legs and they were stretched to the limit by the rope lashing her ankles to the chair legs. The tight, tiny black panties made her ass irresistible, particularly as it stuck up high on the chair back. Justine eased the small black slip out of the way too, exposing the whole of Sally's ass cheeks.

"Mmmmnnnn," Justine said, "real nice." She ran her fingers between Sally's thighs, play­ing with the bound woman's pussy through the black panties.

"You shit-faced little fucker!" Sally screamed. "You lesbian whore, stop that!"

"Now I know who you are," Verna said.

Justine kissed her and took the cane from her, strolling around to Sally's struggling head. She ran the thin cane across the blonde's terrified eyes.

"You wouldn't dare!" Sally screamed. "You can't whip me. I'll beat the shit outta you when I get free!"

Justine laughed and leaned in close to the struggling wife.

"You couldn't whip me hard enough to make me whimper, whore," she snarled softly. "You ask them around here what I need, I'm the big­gest whore you ever met, and you're gonna pay."

"Stop, no!" Sally screamed as Justine got up and walked back around the chair. She held the cane over Sally's creamy ass cheeks and looked around.

All Verna's other maids were getting fucked. Queenie was on her knees, sucking one of the men's cock while Diana and Karen were bent over, their panties on the floor, while two of the men pushed their hot pricks into their soft pussies.

Justine grinned. She raised the cane and held it over Sally's trembling ass. Very slowly she looked at Joe and slid her hand up, under her short dress, fondling her pussy, showing him her fingers working over the wet front of her panties.

"Don't you dare!" Sally screamed.

Justine lashed the cane across Sally's black panties, which were no protection at all. A red line spread across her ass and she gave a pierc­ing scream, bucking up on the chair back.

"You bitch, I'll get you!" she yelped.

Justine whipped her again, driving the cane across her ass until it was a mass of red flesh. Sally stopped threatening her, and just screamed at each lash jerking on the chair back, sobbing the whole time, begging Justine to stop.

But Justine wasn't going to stop until she came. She rubbed her pussy shamelessly as she lashed the screaming wife. She was delirious with lust, and she had a whole weekend of depraved sex ahead.