Robert Taylor: Whipped bitch

Janey nodded. It all seemed to add up. "At first I thought they were pretending. That it's like actors performing roles."

"Oh, yes. That's part of it, and that's why we dress you in leather. You're the scenic background, setting the mood for the performance. Incidentally these whips are less painful than the ribbon-gift ones. Those welts on Mrs. Smith's ass will be gone in a few hours. Though, sitting will be painful during that time. And that is important."

To Janey, it all seemed strange, but she accepted it, especially since the fingers on her pussy were so sure, knowing, calming while they heated her.

"I was, of course, watching through a one-way window. You looked so lovely in black, precious, your pink and white and blonde coloring! Your luscious breasts!" She squeezed Janey's pussy-lips once more, then raised her hand to Janey's nipples and tweaked them, drawing them out to jutting pegs. She bent and kissed one. "In fact, watching you, I became so hot that I could peak in a few seconds. Precious, would you, lap me through a cum?"

Janey was surprised. But she had no time to think about it, for Mrs. Claymore climbed onto the horse, hiked up her skirt and spread her legs. No panties. A massive blonde fluff. Bleached, Janey thought, dropping to her knees between the woman's legs.

Fingers combed into her hair, bringing her directly into the hairy cleft. She licked eagerly, breathing deeply of the heady smell of pussy.

She captured the erect, slippery clit in her lips.

"Ah-hh!" Mrs. Claymore cried. "Precious, suck it! Oh, I'll cum in another second!"

Janey wondered at how quickly she had taken to giving head without losing her love for meat up her cunt. Last night Mr. Burt's cock had thrilled her until Barbara seduced him away. Somehow, everything here at Palm Cove rotated around sex, and she seemed extremely adaptable. In fact, despite her shock, the whipping of Mr. and Mrs. Smith seemed to have aroused her, and now, kneeling and lapping the blonde woman she slipped a hand down her belly and began massaging her own pussy.

"Now up my cunt," Mrs. Claymore said, her voice hoarse.

Janey licked into the pulsing orifice.

"There! Oh-hh, it's scalding inside! Yes, lap me, my precious Janey. Sweetheart, I'm ashamed, I should be sucking your darling cunt, so selfish of me. Why don't you finger-fuck yourself?"

"I am," Janey panted.

"Oh, that's good. Tell me when, then we'll climax together. I'd go down on you, but I don't dare move an inch, my cum is just hanging there waiting for you to give me the word. I can taste it, taste my cum like a hot pink bubble right where I can poke my tongue through it…"

Janey spread her legs wide and stuck two fingers up her fuck-hole, wagged them wildly.

"Suck my juice! Oh, yes, you are the sweetest cunt-sucker I know, precious… I love you, love you, darling Janey."

Then Janey's orgasm boiled.

"My cum!" she cried, licking furiously at the woman's cunt.

"Ahh-hh!" Mrs. Claymore shrieked. "Ah-hh, Janey, I'm cum-ming!"

Her hips were jerking wildly, thrusting her gaping wet split at Janey's face.

Janey thumbed her own clit just once and slid over the edge, gushing through her flaming, melting, oozing orgasm.

Back at Barbara's station, Janey found that Grace had been waiting on tables in her place.

When Barbara went to speak to some arriving clients, Janey drew her girl friend into the corner and gave her a hug. "It was so cruel of them to call you away just when we were making love."

The redhead's eyes twinkled. "But things are like that here. I'm used to it. But later tonight, huh?"

Janey nodded eagerly, and kissed her cheek before Grace darted off in response to a client's signal.

When Barbara returned, she explained that this evening Grace and Janey would substitute for each other, one here at the club when the other was at supper or at work in a closed room.

Janey was irritated.

Still, when she went to supper in a lounge off the pool, she decided that the other Ribbon Girls were friendly and the food sumptuous, steak that melted in her mouth.

Back on station, she found Barbara frowning, apparently troubled.

"This couple demands you, Janey, but I'm afraid you lack the necessary experience."

"Discipline?" Janey asked.

"No. Jealousy. They're young. Always squabbling, both flirting with other people. He insists on you. And she practically clawed his face. I asked Mrs. Claymore. She says she is sure you can handle it."

"I'd feel better if you were there to guide me."

Barbara smiled, and patted her ass. "Mr. Burt will be watching through the one-way window. I'm certain that he'll be needed. Well, I don't share Mrs. Claymore's confidence, but she's decided."

Janey scanned the crowd, wondering which couple it was.

She felt Barbara's hand slip in under the ribbons and caress her ass-cheek. "Strange how that worked out last night, Burt and all. I did like your nuzzling my pussy, and I did ask you to do it every night. But I am turned on to him. I hope you don't mind."

"It's all right," Janey said, in no mood to tell Barbara that she had overcome the need to worship her Apron Girl, that Grace had taken her place. And she had a hunch that Burt, having so many girls at his disposal, might not be forever attached to Barbara.

A finger idly caressed Janey's furry cunt-lips. "You're teasing me," she giggled.

Barbara, gazing over the tables in her charge, seemed not to hear. "Number six wants another round."

She slapped Janey's ass, sending her on her way.

At eight o'clock Barbara said, "Now. You'll use your own room. Drinks have been delivered there."

"Costume?"

"Just a mask. It's there. Go ahead, and I hope it works out."

Janey hurried out through the lounge to the hall, went around the curve to number six. In her room she found a tray of drinks on the table, and a rainbow-colored eye mask, a domino. She put it on, then remembered the mirrors. She went to the end of the bed and pushed the button and the panels slid open. She checked her makeup and hair in the nearest mirror, and was tasting one of the three tall drinks when the door opened.

A tall young man stood there, looking elegant in a silky brown suit and, except that a domino banded his eyes, he was darkly handsome. Over his shoulder glittered the eyes of a girl wearing a rainbow domino like Janey's.

"We're Bill and Alice…" He paused, about to give the last name.

"Smith," Janey said, smiling.

"Yes, Smith."

Alice swept past him. Tall, lean, in a slack suit a shade lighter than his, dark brown hair and emerald earrings, bracelets glittering on her wrists. A leggy girl, small of hip and breast.

"All right, so she has big tits!" Alice snapped. "It's not my fault. You should have known when you married me!" She threw her handbag down on the table, seized one of the drinks and gulped half of it down.

Bill said, "Don't mind Alice. I can't even glance at a girl without her going into a screaming rage. Alice is all right, except that her cunt itches."

"It ought to itch," Alice said, "when your prick is always being stuck into other broads." Then, to Janey: "Look, I have nothing against you. I'm reasonable. I get along with other cunts. I could be friendly except that he burns my ass so, forever horny for whatever woman is handiest, except me."

Janey was baffled. "Let's sit down and talk it over."

Bill sat and picked up a drink, but Alice remained there, glowering at them.

Bill said, "It's not true, you know. I'm not a skirt-chaser. Alice has an inferiority complex. She thinks all other girls are prettier, but she's wrong. If they're not prettier, she thinks they're better dressed, or they're showing more skin or whatever."

"We won't worry about that," Alice said. "About clothes. We'll start at scratch." She tore open the handbag and drew out a complete ribbon-girl costume, skirt, chain necklace, and sandals. "Where's the bathroom? Oh. I see."