Robert Taylor - Whipped bitch

By the time the first song was through, Janey decided it was very sweet, tender, a delightful sharing. But was it permitted? "We won't get into trouble over this?"

"Oh, no. Mrs. Claymore likes the girls to pair off as lovers. See, that's why she had me bring your breakfast. She said maybe we'd be happy together. Do you think so?"

Janey, blushing, looked aside and saw one pair of dancing girls kiss, or rather tongue-tease each other, their lips not meeting. In this strange place it seemed natural. She needed a friend, and now that she was accustomed to the warm, jiggly cushion of their breasts, Gracie's belly against hers, the caresses of arms, the nudge of thighs, she could think of nothing nicer.

She rubbed her chin on Gracie's velvety cheek. "I want to be your lover, Gracie. That is – if you…"

"Oh, yes!" The girl looked up, eyes twinkling. "I'm so lucky! Kiss me?"

The kiss was like the one Janey had observed, tongues extended. A terrible tease! It made her pull at Gracie's waist, joining their bellies firmly together. Not dancing now, they prolonged the tongue tease until Janey could no longer endure it.

Janey grasped the girl's satiny buttocks and lifted until their hairy pubes met, when she gave a shudder, groaned with pleasure. She felt so hot inside!

Gracie's eyes were sparkling when they resumed dancing, so close now, sealed together from cheeks to thighs. "I never had a lover, I mean plenty of girls but not like this, not like everybody can call us a pair, Janey and Gracie."

The music ended. They stood embracing.

"Come to my room?" the redhead whispered.

"Yes!"

Arms about each other, they left the pool area.

In the hall Janey remembered their nudity.

"Shouldn't we be wearing our ribbons and things?"

"Doesn't matter here in the hall. I have extras in my room."

Gracie's place was exactly like her own. The girl went to the wall at the end of the bed and pushed a button. Panels slid aside revealing mirrors.

Janey frowned. "I don't like people looking."

Her lover placed a finger on her lips. "Sh-hhh! The rooms are all bugged. And if Mrs. Claymore found us here with the panels closed, she'd whip our asses bloody."

Janey did not like being on display, but then Gracie slipped into her arms. Kissing the redhead, rubbing her mound on the other, she decided it did not matter who watched. It was not forbidden and Janey found that her reluctance concerning lesbian love was fast dissipating. Sure, she had always thought of sex as a cock in her cunt, but stroking Grace's slender back, exploring the soft, very female swells of her ass, she was glad her lover was a woman. There could be no arrogance of ruthlessly poking cock; instead, a sharing.

Grace's hands had slipped up between them, kneading their merged breasts. "Everybody was talking about your tits, Janey. And I want to – on the bed…"

"Yes!"

They moved to the bed and flopped down, Grace across seizing a breast in both hands.

A pale pink tongue circled the nipple, and Janey gasped as moist heat seeped in, stiffening her nipple. Gracie rubbed her cheeks on it, then abruptly seized the nipple in her lips and sucked.

The pull drew deep into Janey's body, producing a fluttering sensation in her cunt that made her grunt with surprise.

She fingered into the other's red hair, silky, sensual stuff that clung to her fingers. Grace sucked again, and Janey gasped. "Ooooh, honey! That makes my pussy quiver!"

Her lover raised up, smiling, glanced down her body at the fluffy tan pubic bush. She lightly fingered Janey's pussy lips.

Janey squirmed, tantalized by the light, slithering caresses. She drew Grace's head down to her breast and poked the nipple into her mouth. Her lover moaned and her mouth sucked the swollen red cap and tugged, which made Janey quiver all over and arch, pressing her hot cunt to the other's invading fingers.

"Honey, you're so hot!" Grace gasped about her mouthful of breast.

"I need to cum," Janey panted. "Oh-hhh, when you touch my clit something just bursts in my belly…"

Grace left the swollen breast and began nuzzling down Janey's hot, palpitating flesh toward her pubes. "I'll lap you over the edge, huh? Then…"

Her breath was hot on Janey's pussy when a voice spoke in the room.

"Ribbon Girl Grace…"

A loudspeaker. Mrs. Claymore's voice.

"Report for duty at post one in the club. Very busy there now…" Janey burst into tears.

Grace gave a cry of anguish. "It's all right, lover. Later. I have to go. It's the rule."

"She's doing it on purpose!" Janey whimpered.

"Shush!" Grace put a hand over her mouth. "Don't let anybody hear that."

She sprang off the bed and from her vanity table drawer took a ribbon skirt, earring chain, and sandals.

She rushed out of the room.

Janey lay squirming on the bed, a finger up her cunt, trying to masturbate through the cum that only moments before had needed merely a single tongue lash to trigger into fluttering ecstasy.

At five in the afternoon, Janey checked her makeup in the Ribbon Girls' lounge, then entered the club and went to Barbara's niche.

Barbara greeted her with a smile. There was something vacant about her gaze.

She glanced at the bar where Burt was working. She sighed.

Janey figured they had a hot affair going but she did not inquire. She looked about for Gracie. Not in sight.

At last Barbara inspected her, making her turn about, smoothed the ribbons on her ass. "I heard about you and Grace."

"I hope it's all right."

"Oh, yes. But she gets into trouble sometimes. Don't imitate her."

Glancing at the whip under the counter, Janey resolved to be very careful. Though she did resent Grace's being called away at that particular moment. Without her, the afternoon had been long and lonely.

She was sent out to take drink orders. It seemed quite easy now.

At six o'clock, Barbara whispered to her, "Come, we have an assignment."

Janey's heart pounded as she followed the swaying of her Apron Girl's bare ass out through the lounge to the hall, then down to the third door around the curve. She pushed a door open, and Janey saw a wardrobe room, racks of garments of every imaginable color. Barbara took down two black patent-leather garments.

"We get a lot of black leather people," Barbara murmured, handing one hanger to Janey. She unsnapped her apron. "Strip. We wear just the leather."

Janey bit back the dozen questions that crowded to the tip of her tongue. Removing her earring necklace, skirt and sandals, she found that the leather consisted of, first, a mask with holes for eyes, nose, and mouth. It fitted on like a cap. Then a belt several inches wide. Last a pair of hip boots that zipped open.

They dressed in the strange garments – high heeled boots that reached up the thighs almost to the crotch, belt around the waist, and the mask hood. She copied Barbara in tucking her hair up. Then Barbara took gloves from a drawer – they had gauntlets covering the forearms – and two black whips, the snappers of which were flat, a foot long and a couple of inches wide.

"Do not speak a singe word. I will talk very little, mostly just give signals that you will obey."

She led Janey out.

They entered another room on the same curve of the S-shaped hall, a bedroom like Janey's, except that in place of a table there was a curious object like a gymnasium vaulting horse, a cylinder covered with black patent leather on four black iron legs, about waist high and bolted to the floor.

Barbara and Janey stood against the wall facing the object and the bed. Barbara crossed her anus under her breasts, held her whip with the snapper dangling, and signaled to Janey to do the same.

Shortly the door opened and a man looked in. He wore a handsome tweed jacket and flannel pants. And a black mask that covered only his eyes.