Part V
Carrying her gown carefully by the hook on the
garment bag, Cynthia climbed up the winding back stairs
of her home like someone who was a great deal older than
18. Moving slowly was the only way she knew to reduce
the effects of the digging cloth on her poor, abused
pussy.
The fabric had worked it's way deep into her
vulva, and was also pressed directly onto her terribly
erect clitoris. Even moving slowly, she found she could
only walk a short distance before having to stop and try
to regain control of her body. The drive home had
quickly become a nightmare for her, but this time she
knew she had no one to blame for her difficulties but
herself. She could still feel the desperate need for an
orgasm screaming inside of her that her drive home
somehow induced.
"I must get these jeans off!" she thought frantically.
"What was I thinking?" If she didn't take them off very,
very soon, she knew for certain that she would embarrass
herself once again!
She continued to climb very slowly up the narrow
stairs, but she knew she was near the end of her
endurance. Each step that she took caused her pussy to
positively throb. Cynthia held her breath, went up
another step, and her vagina exploded!
She collapsed on the stairs, careful to keep her new
gown above her as she did so. She lay helpless on her
back as she watched with gasping horror the small wet
spot on the crotch of her jeans which marked the deep
cleft of her sex. The spot started to grow larger and
larger as her vagina pulsed out the lubricating fluids.
"Oh, wonderful!" she thought bitterly as she gritted
her teeth to keep from crying out. "I just creamed my
jeans!"
A young woman, wearing a caterer's standard uniform of
white shirt and tight black slacks, came bounding up the
stairs and stopped dead at the sight of the teenager
lying there.
"Are you hurt?" the pert blonde asked in a lilting
English accent.
Terribly embarrassed at being caught like this,
Cynthia could only shake her head and mumble, "Wet
myself."
The woman placed her button nose directly over
Cynthia's wet crotch and sniffed delicately, once.
Apparently satisfied at the result, she reached under the
girl's top and unfastened Cynthia's jeans, and began
pulling them off the stricken girl.
Still shaken by the effects of her powerful orgasm,
Cynthia could only moan, "Yes! Oh, yes!" when she
realized that the English girl meant to rescue her from
her traitorous clothing.
For some reason this seemed to inspire the young woman
to even greater efforts as she now labored frantically to
pull Cynthia's very tight jeans off of her hips.
It was obviously a mighty struggle for her, but
finally, the small blonde woman had the clinging jeans
down past Cynthia's thighs. Soon she had them piled,
along with the girl's shoes and socks, on a lower
landing.
Cynthia felt herself returning to normal after the
effects of her latest devastating orgasm and breathed a
deep sigh of relief. She was free at last of those
terrible jeans!
She was preparing to thank her rescuer when she saw
the woman move her legs apart and sit right between her
opened thighs. "Now what?" the unsuspecting teenager
thought, then gasped with horror as the woman placed her
mouth directly onto her vulva.
"Oh, my God! No! You can't! Stop! You can't do
that!"
Still holding her gown, the struggling girl tried to
go backwards up the stairs, but the woman held on to the
teenager's naked hips with a fierce tenaciously. Her
mouth proved, in Cynthia's rapidly growing experience of
such things, to be very educated indeed.
Soon the insatiable mouth clamped on her pussy drained
the already exhausted Cynthia of any strength to resist
her attacker. Naked from the waist down, Cynthia could
only lay helpless on the stairs while she was being eaten
out by a complete stranger, and one of the caterers at
that! Oh, the shame, the shame.
Cynthia, to her disgust, climaxed mightily and her
female seducer eagerly lapped the dazed teenager's
pulsing vaginal fluids.
After expertly licking the panting girl dry, the
caterer hopped over Cynthia's legs and started up the
stairs.
"Hey, wait," Cynthia weakly called up the stairs.
"You can't…"
"Sorry, love. No time to make a proper job of it.
Never you mind, eh? We'll do it right tomorrow night.
Ta!" Then she was gone!
The flabbergasted Cynthia couldn't believe it. She
had wanted to violently protest this awful violation of
her person by this total stranger, and instead only
managed to make a date with her for the party.
"It's just not fair!" the half-naked girl wailed as
she stood up and tiredly started climbing up the stairs
again. She almost reached the top when she realized she
had forgotten all of her things on the stairs below. By
the time she had gone back down , retrieved her clothes,
and started back up the stairs, Cynthia had worked
herself into a full self-pitying cry. When the sobbing
girl reached the second floor, she shielded herself as
best she could and fled to the safety of her room.
The day of the party had finally arrived and the large
house was in state of carefully controlled turmoil.
Cynthia knew that this was THE party, as far as her
parents were concerned. It was an annual affair, given
by Cynthia's father for all of his favorite clients:
past, present and future. It was completely catered,
with a formal dinner served in a large pavilion set up
out back, dancing, several temporary bars, and even
fireworks. There were always two bands, one out on the
back lawn for the sedate dancers, and one down in the
basement recreation area for the younger set. The party
was something that most people did not miss willingly.
Cynthia would have paid a good deal of money to have
been anywhere else today. After what she had gone
through this weekend, after all of the humiliations and
abuses she had endured, all she wanted to do for the
entire day was to stay in bed.
But Cynthia was now an official part of today's
events, and staying in bed was out of the question. At
least that's what her mother kept telling her as she
threw the still-sleeping teenager out of bed at the
ungodly hour of 10 o'clock in the morning.
As Cynthia grew older, she reluctantly found herself
becoming more and more involved with her mother's hostess
duties, especially anything concerning the younger set.
She had already been informed she was to be part of the
"official reception committee", which was just her
mother's way of saying Cynthia was to be one of the
greeters at the front door. She was also to be seated at
one of the big tables this time, which was were the
really important clients were always located.
Cynthia had felt rather badly after being woken like
that, yet she knew it was the best thing that could have
happened to her. By being thrown into the party
preparations, she'd had no time at all to brood over the
astonishing events of the past two days. Not a
contemplative person even at the best of times, Cynthia
brushed aside all that had happened to her and focused on
the needs of the party. More specifically, she
concentrated on the impression she was going to make on
everyone tonight. It would, she was sure, truly going to
be a night to remember!
Well, it was party time and she was almost ready. She
was standing nude in her bathroom, bathed, shaved,
powdered, and with her face on. She was sweetly perfumed
in all the right places. Earlier in the day she had
completed all of the important things: gotten her hair
and nails done, received a pedicure, and bought a new
pair of shoes with (of course) a matching hand bag. Her
normal routine of also buying new underwear for a special
event didn't apply this time, as she (Oh God!) wasn't
going to be wearing any. She was to spend the entire
evening wearing the slinkiest gown she had ever seen,
with her shoes, and that was all! She had been getting
goose pimples all day just thinking about it!
Except for her small crotch protector, that is. At
least she would have that on.
She stared at her nude reflection one last time, then
shrugged her shoulders. She sat down on her bathroom
chair and picked up the kit Mickey had given her
yesterday. She carefully applied the supplied adhesive
around the edges of the protector, then gingerly placed
the small object directly onto her vulva, being careful
to avoid her recently trimmed pubic hair as much as
possible. It fit perfectly.
Looking at the small half-shell, Cynthia felt
decidedly foolish wearing it, yet she had to have
something!
She stood up and looked in the mirror. The shell
completely covered her vulva. "Well, I'll be protected
down there at least," she thought. "But, God! It feels
just like someone has their hand right on me!" She
wiggled her hips experimentally and the protector
remained in place. "How weird!" she said to her
reflection.
Finally satisfied that all was well, she took the gown
out of its protective bag and slowly inserted her trim,
athletic body into the form-fitting garment. When the
gown was on her, she set the shoulder and neck straps,
then zipped up the back. She stepped into her new shoes,
a pair of wicked-looking high-heels. Finally, Cynthia
put on her most discreet but still very expensive diamond
earring-and-pendant set. With this gown, no other
jewelry would be necessary.
Now that she was complete, she carefully checked
herself one last time.
"Wow," she reverently whispered. "Wow."
She was elegant! She felt herself absolutely glowing
with untouchable sex. The effect took her breath away.
It was like a fairy tale come true. She really was the
pristine Virgin Princess at the Royal Ball.
Intoxicated with her own beauty, Cynthia floated out
of her room and down the corridor to the main stair case.
She stood alone on the landing and waited a moment to
compose herself. She knew her gown deserved only the
most perfect of entrances. If she ever decided to wear
it out in town, she understood she would probably require
an armed guard to keep the guys away, but in her own home
with a house full of guests, she knew she was perfectly
safe.
Cynthia was just about to start down the stairs when
she jumped! She had just felt someone caress her silk-
covered buttocks!
She whirled around and found herself face to face with
the short catering girl from yesterday!
"Oh God! It's you!" she sputtered, not knowing what
to do next in her embarrassment at meeting someone who
had so recently taken such intimate advantage of her.
"Happy to see you again, too!" the girl beamed, her
hands on Cynthia's waist. "Too busy for anything now,
love. Just wanted you to know you look absolutely
smashing! If you need to see me later, ask anyone for
Penelope. I'll be working the bars. Ta!"
"OH!" the startled Cynthia gasped as Penelope, rising
on her toes, kissed her full on the lips, while at the
same time sneakily tweaking the unsuspecting teenager's
vulnerable nipples through the thin silk.
Before Cynthia had a chance to protest, Penelope had
quickly vanished down the stair case leading to the
kitchen.
The terribly flustered girl could only stand there,
dumbfounded. She looked wildly around the corridor to
see if anyone had seen what had just taken place.
Relieved, she saw that she was still completely alone.
Cynthia took a deep breath and once again tried to
compose herself, but without success. She looked down
and saw with horror that the nipples on her high-set
breasts, now obviously very erect, were clearly visible
through the silk.
"Oh, no!" she thought. "Now what am I supposed to
do?" She knew that she just had to go down now. She
could not stall any longer and expect to live through the
night without her parents killing her. She was probably
in serious trouble already.
Well, she would just have to keep her arms crossed
over her chest, that's all, until her naughty nipples
shrank to a more respectable size.
She hurried on down the steps, not concerned with
making an entrance anymore. At the bottom of the stairs,
Cynthia entered the madhouse of the front foyer.
There were people packed everywhere, with caterers
weaving their way through the crowd of new-comers
carrying silver trays loaded with food and drinks.
Her mother, standing by the open front double doors,
caught her eye during a gap in the crowd and curtly
motioned for her daughter to join her.
Cynthia took her place alongside that of her mother,
and automatically started to greet the new arrivals.
"What the fuck are you wearing?" her mother whispered
bitterly into her ear during a brief lull between
arrivals.
"It's a gown, Mom. An evening gown."
"No shit. No wonder you wouldn't let me see what you
were wearing tonight. That dress is a bit much even for
you, don't you think?"
"It's just a gown, Mom. It's no big deal. Really."
"Sure. Just remember that when your father has his
stroke tonight."
"Mom!"
"Well, too late now. Since you're finally here, take
over while I check on the caterers."
Cynthia stood alone at the door, the official greeter
for the party's incoming hordes of people.
The reactions that her gown drew from just about
everyone astonished the teenager. She saw some pretty
slinky outfits walk through the door, but she could
honestly feel that her appearance topped them all.
Cynthia began to feel that she truly was the Bell of the
Ball!
In her first 20 minutes at the door, she received eight
proposals of marriage, 15 requests to meet with someone
in one of the upstairs bedrooms later on in the evening,
and one discrete offer to spend two weeks at a villa in
Maui.
Her plan to keep her chest covered quickly fell apart
with the need to continuously welcome people to her home.
Everyone wanted to shake her by the hand, sometimes
joyously enough to cause her breasts to really shake and
shimmy under her bodice. Of course, all that movement
just caused her nipples to grow still harder and even
more erect than before.
At Seven, with relief Cynthia closed and locked the
double doors. Her father's one firm rule for the party
was what no guest would be admitted to the house after
Seven. This evening, she hadn't had a single person come
in for over 15 minutes before she had to lock the doors.
When guests were supposed to leave was another matter.
She knew overnighters were encouraged, especially if
great distances and/or alcohol were involved. These
affairs could continue throughout the night, lasting as
long as the participants desired. Parties which went
until dawn were not uncommon.
Cynthia worked her way through the large crowd,
playing the proper hostess, making a point to have a
brief word with every group or even individuals who were
standing alone.
As it turned out, wherever she went, large crowds
seemed to appear as if from nowhere. Regardless of how
many people were in the remainder of the room, there were
always groups of men and women pressing close against her
from all sides, feeling them their presence clearly
through the thin silk. She tried not to jump whenever a
hand passed over her buttocks or grazed her breasts, but
each happened a great deal as she made her rounds. It
was not really surprising to the innocent teenager, what
with the heavy crowds and all.
It was having an effect on her, though. After a
while, such unintentional contact started to take her
breath away. She could feel the heaviness begin to build
in her vagina, a sure sign her darn secretions were
starting to flow again. She could only pray that the
little protector would work as advertised and keep her
from embarrassing herself and, more importantly, keep her
from ruining her gown.
As the evening progressed, Cynthia found herself
receiving all kinds of offers to dance. She tried to
politely limit them as much as possible to only the slow
dances. She was becoming concerned of what too much
perspiration would do to her beautiful gown.
On the dance floor, she noticed that her partner's
hand would inevitably stray from her waist, to an even
much lower position down her hip, lower then even she
would consider proper. At first, she couldn't comprehend
what they were doing, then it struck her— they were
feeling for her missing panties!
She gave up dancing altogether after that.
Finally, to Cynthia's relief dinner was announced by
caterers carrying small brass gongs. She knew that she
would be sitting at a table which was thankfully on the
opposite side of the pavilion from her father's. Her
spot on the 20-person table would be right between the
Farland sisters, two sweet spinsters who, in their late
80's, were her father's oldest clients.
Cynthia headed for her table in the pavilion, happy in
the knowledge that she would be spending a peaceful hour
or two away from the groping masses and be in the company
of some of those few clients of her father's that she
actually liked.
She needed some quiet time anyway, she knew. She
hadn't counted on how demonstrative everyone became
around her because she was wearing the gown tonight.
Just wearing the gown had always made her feel sexy, but
after being unintentionally groped and fondled by the
crowd all evening, she was feeling positively creamy
inside, as well as being quite breathless.
It was getting so bad she decided that, after dinner,
she was going to sneak back upstairs and change her
clothes for something, anything else. She felt even one
of her comfortable bathing suits would probably be better
for then the gown. At least that way she would possess
the equivalent protection of having on panties and a bra!
She was seated in her designated spot at the table,
happily chatting to Ruth and Ester Farland, when Cynthia
noticed her neighbor Kathryn, wearing a grim smile, take
an empty seat directly opposite the table from her.
"Oh, oh," thought Cynthia in dismay. "She's really
pissed at me about something."
She had forgotten all about Kathryn after leaving her
at Bountiful Plantation yesterday. "Whatever happened
there wasn't my fault," she thought. "I just went to
pick up my gown, that's all." The fact that Cynthia
didn't warn Kathryn of her own unusual experiences with
the staff when she was there the day before, sat uneasily
on her conscience.
"It wasn't my fault," Cynthia said aloud.
"What, dear?" asked Ester.
"Nothing. Sorry," apologized Cynthia.
Cynthia suddenly began to feel the faintest of tingles
coming from her crotch, but it went away as quickly as it
had begun. Probably vibration from someone walking
behind her, she thought, and promptly forgot about it.
As the dinner began to be served, Cynthia was mildly
surprised that the strange feelings from her sex kept
returning, and each time they lasted just a bit longer
than before.
She was so busy playing hostess and companion to the
Farland sisters that it was some time before she realized
the sensations between her legs were becoming quite a
distraction. The vibrations, centered on her vulva, were
continuous now, and were getting stronger.
She finally realized what was happening to her. "Oh,
my God!" she said unknowingly. It was her protector! It
was vibrating!!
Her vagina was throbbing like crazy and she tightly
crossed her legs to try and stifle the growing
sensations.
"Oh my!" she thought desperately. "Maybe it was full
or something, and this is the alarm." She seemed to
remember Mickey saying absolutely nothing about any need
for emptying the protector, but, dazzled by the gown, she
hadn't really been paying any attention to her at the
time.
Regardless of the reason, though, the protector's
vibrations were causing her some serious trouble.
Cynthia could only keep what she hoped was an interested,
calm look on her face as she fought to keep her body
under control.
"Please, God! Not here, not now!" she prayed
reverently as the throbbing of her vagina started to
reach overwhelming proportions.
She knew her face was flush and that beads of sweat
were forming along her hairline. She was having trouble
catching her breath. Her crossed legs were dancing under
the table in her increasing nervousness.
Cynthia was helpless. Everyone was just starting
their main course. If she got up from the table now,
everyone, including her parents, in the pavilion would
see her! But if she stayed…!
Ruth reached with her right hand across the girl's
chest to hand her sister a hankie. A heavy, ornate ring
on her forefinger caught both of the unsuspecting
Cynthia's highly erect nipples in passing.
"OH!" grunted the stunned teenager, as stars appeared
before her eyes.
Ruth caught the vulnerable nipples again when she
brought her hand back.
Cynthia slumped back in her chair as her world quickly
spun out of control.
Ester placed a withered hand on the dazed Cynthia's
right knee and cooed, "What a delightful dress you're
wearing tonight, my dear. Isn't it simply delightful,
Ruth?"
"Oh, yes. Suits her perfectly." Ruth placed her
right hand on the teenager's left knee and together the
two old women began to pull up the girl's gown.
Cynthia's gown was half-way up her thighs before she
realized what was happening below the table. She looked
with dazed amazement at Ruth and Ester. The two very old
ladies were chattering contentedly just as they had been
before, while her gown continued to inexorably rise on
her legs. From their behavior no one would ever realize
they were undressing her right there at the table.
She automatically rose to flee when a short, powerful
blast from the protector caused her to quickly sit again.
That time she had almost climaxed!
Cynthia looked down and saw with horror that her gown
was now bunched up around her waist. The two sisters had
used her failed escape attempt to pull her gown up past
her hips. She pushed her chair as far under the table as
it would go, then draped the hanging tablecloth around
her as far as possible. She was covered as much as was
practicable, while the old ladies were now free to do
whatever odd thing they wanted of her below the table.
Dazed, she looked across the table and saw Kathryn
laughing at her. "Kathryn!" she thought, stunned. "She
knows what's happening? I don't believe it! Why doesn't
she help me, then?"
Thought failed her as two strong, rough hands dipped
between her smooth upper thighs and pressed tightly
against her protector!
"We have to loose this now, my dear," Ruth told the
noncomprehending teenager as she and Ester gently pried
the still vibrating protector away from Cynthia's vulva.
Cynthia looked with horror as Ester calmly examined
the device on the table in front of her while Ruth gently
ran her fingers up and down the trembling girl's labia.
"Can't stand these newfangled hidden-exciter things,"
Ester said quietly. "We've always preferred a good old-
fashioned dildo."
With a swift smooth toss, Ester expertly threw the
protector across the wide table to the waiting Kathryn.
"Thanks, honey. You've been swell," Ester told the
smiling Kathryn.
"You are welcome, ma'am," said Kathryn, and she walked
around the table toward the shocked Cynthia, laughing.
When she reached where Cynthia was sitting, she stood
behind her.
"You left me there!" Kathryn told her with quiet
despair. "You left me alone with those…those people!"
She sobbed once, then recovered her composure. "They
told me you did it deliberately too, to lower the cost of
your gown. My old friend. You set me up, you bitch!"
"Well, two can play at that game," Kathryn whispered
furiously as she held her hands in front of the stricken
girl and opened them. In Kathryn's right hand Cynthia
was embarrassed to recognized her crotch protector, in
her left hand was some kind of controller.
"You know what they say, 'Payback's a bitch.' Well,
here I am!! When they gave me the chance to get even
with you, I jumped at it. With this remote, I've been
turning you on all night with the hidden exciter you were
stupid enough to wear. You never even noticed it, did
you?"
Cynthia could only shake her head slowly in disbelief.
"Well ladies," Kathryn whispered to Ruth and Ester,
"she's all primed and yours for the taking!"
Ruth placed her mouth close to Cynthia's left ear. "I
have a message for you from Mickey," she whispered as she
inserted three fingers deep into Cynthia's steaming cunt.
"UH!" Cynthia gasped at the unexpected intrusion.
"She sends you her regards and hopes you're enjoying
the gown. She also said to tell you that you'll be
spanked very soon for all the times you forgot to say
"ma'am" to her yesterday. Knowing Mickey as I do, if I
were you I'd plan on not being able to sit for a long
while."
Ester left hand joined her sister's right hand between
the girl's thighs under the table. Soon Cynthia had six
fingers deep within her, all expertly teasing the walls
of her helpless vagina, while the digits still outside
her cunt were busy on her vulva and clitoris.
The teenager could only groan helplessly as she was
deftly fondled, held on the edge but never allowed to
pass the boundary into the blissful release of an orgasm.
To the discrete inquiries being made about the strange
behavior of their host's beautiful daughter, Ruth and
Ester would sweetly explain that Cynthia had a mild touch
of the flu (the poor thing) and it would be better if
everyone just kept their distance from her for the
remainder of the meal. Not to worry, though. She had
placed herself into their capable hands and would be well
taken care of.
Finally, desert was being served and the Farland
sisters were from a family who really enjoyed their
sweets. They deliberately brought the panting Cynthia to
her long deigned climax! They had thoughtfully laid some
linen napkins earlier on the girl's seat, to absorb any
lubricants she might expel when she was finally allowed
her moment.
Cynthia groaned and shuttered her way uncontrollably
through her orgasm, while the Farland sisters had to
explain to everyone that Cynthia was just demonstrating a
scene she had really liked from some movie she had
recently seen. Convincing, wasn't she?
Cynthia, when she could think again, sat at the table
feeling terribly, terribly humiliated. She had
embarrassed herself again, and in a tent full of people
this time. What was wrong with her, she wondered. What
was wrong?
She continued to sit until everyone seated at her
table had left. When she was alone, she rose up slightly
and smoothed her gown down past her hips legs before
sitting again.
Cynthia wondered what to do. The excitement of the
party had faded, and she really didn't want to mingle
with these people any more. Even the joy of wearing her
gown had fallen from her. Yet, after vaguely remembering
receiving some disquieting message from Mickey, she
didn't want to be alone tonight.
The answer was obvious. She would, avoiding crowds by
taking back ways whenever possible, return to the
sanctuary of her room. There she would clean up (she
must look frightful after all this), carefully put the
gown away and never look at it again for the rest of her
natural life, change into a sensible swim suit (she must
have one somewhere!) and beach robe, and hang out at the
pool all evening. There were always swimmers hanging
around and it was far enough away from the outside band
and refreshment tables that it was a fairly peaceful
place to be.
Her parents would just have to do without her help
this year, that's all. She had had enough excitement for
one night, thank you, and was looking forward to spending
the rest of the evening drinking wine by the pool.