Monique stretched on her bed and got up. Her whole body was covered by a film of sweat. She poured herself some water-lukewarm, she thought. She swallowed it with small gulps. She gave a look at the still silent park, but through the blades of the Venetian blinds no cool breeze was coming. She sat in a deep armchair, thighs wide apart, propped up against the arms of the chair. In the mirror facing her, she contemplated herself, the damp pink mouth deep in the fair hair, the thick lips, with the vagina slightly opened in their middle.
She inclined her head and yawned, and, with her eyes closed, went back in her memories while her fingers lingered fondly on her belly and the satin-like skin of the inside of her thighs.
Life went as usual at Mrs. Merval's, pleasantly, with its equal share of lectures, of voluptuous nights, of perverse contacts. There was not one of the childish faces of her class (and often of the others) that had not given her the best caresses between her widely opened thighs. Sylvie once called for her, and after a passionate night made her scream her pleasure by introducing into her ass bigger and bigger nozzles, after vigorously whipping the consenting buttocks with the sticks and the leather whip.
At the break of dawn, Monique returned to her room completely exhausted. The next day the pension's seamstress took her measurements and made some dresses for her. Sometime after, she received from Sylvie a box containing some lingerie, stockings and shoes, with a little note attached to it: “Meet me at my place tonight, nine p.m.”
Anxious and impatient at the same time, Monique thought that the day would never end.
The same evening she put on the clothes that were in the box. The mirror showed her the image of a sultry Monique, her shapely legs emphasized by the black silk stockings with very high heel shoes that accentuated the curve of her legs. Her thighs emerged from a pleated velvet skirt that opened right under the buttocks and looked like a lampshade. Her belly and her bottom were naked under it. A velvet bodice with long, puffed sleeves of the same color as the skirt, was covering her torso. It was slit from the neck to the belt where a string of stones (faked of course) was accentuating the slim waist and round hips. The opening in the bodice allowed a good view of the young girl's charms. One could see the deep valley that separated her breasts and their round and firm base. On her head a little black velvet cap lined with white swan feathers was posed over her fair and silky curls.
Monique put a little velvet mask over her eyes, and, anticipating what was to come, took the corridor that led to Mrs. Merval's apartments.
She welcomed Monique silently and introduced her in the lounge, dimly lit by one lamp in a corner. Monique was astounded. In front of her, three men were sitting on the sofa, and one of them was wearing a monk's frock. They all wore masks. Gallantly, they rose and bowed in front of her. Sylvie pushed her toward them. Monique gave Sylvie a long, inquiring look. Sylvie was dressed in a black, transparent negligee that daringly revealed her naked and muscled body, and her black, silk-dressed legs. Sylvie showed Monique the little table where the liquors were stored. She poured a glass for each of the guests and presented it on a gold tray. She sat in front of them, on a little stool, her thighs closed tight together. Because of the low level where she was sitting she had her knees at the same level as her breasts and her thighs, and a little bit of the flesh of her sex was displayed. She lowered her eyes, a little bit ashamed, but she could feel desire coming in her veins.
Sylvie came to her in a purr of her lace and a cloud of scent. She opened a little case and handed it to Monique.
“Look darling, what our friends were nice enough to bring for you.”
Monique looked into the little box and stood motionless; her eyes could not leave the things in the box. On a velvet tray were exposed a little whip with thin lashes, a stick, and three nozzles with different heads, made out of pink, hard rubber.
A voluptuous emotion crept into Monique's body. She blushed intently as Sylvie, already by her side, began unbuttoning the bodice and took one of Monique's breasts in her hand. When the voluminous globe appeared, a murmur of admiration from the guests saluted it. Soon after, the other breast was unveiled with its erected nipple. Monique was pushed towards the men and had to place herself in front of them. Immediately they kissed her teats and lifted the little skirt.
She hardly reacted when she felt the fingers between her thighs, brushing past her cunt already damp from her own juices, and stopped at the little puckered and curled asshole. She was drinking Sylvie's perverted kiss, sucking on her lascivious tongue. She felt that Sylvie was trying to unhook her bodice, and resisted. Sylvie did not insist, but she bent her lower, and that movement accentuated the large curves of her splendid bottom. The three men were admiring the sight offered by that display of white flesh encircled by black velvet-those thighs whose white flesh was emerging from the black silk stockings held by little garters made of black leather.
Out of the little triangle at the crossroad of the buttocks, a little bit of the flesh of the sex appeared surrounded by a few pale curls.
Sylvie whispered in the ear of the young girl:
“Open your legs…”
Monique shook her head and refused.
“Open your legs,” repeated Sylvie in another tone of voice. “Open, or I will have to spank you!”
A deep emotion ran through Monique's body when she heard that word “spanking”; there was a great desire in her negation, for she was already feeling the contact of the lashes on her flesh. Sylvie bending over her, in front of her, was holding her bent, her wrists maintained on the stool. With a light wheezzz the lashes were crashing on her bottom, and Monique could not withhold a cry of surprise. She turned over and saw the monk standing up behind her. He was holding a whip in his hand. She lowered her head, ashamed, but another blow landed across her buttocks harder, drier… and another while her bottom was slowly undulating, then another blow came and made her feel warm all over. Then solidly standing, his legs opened to assure a steadier posture, the monk started a long flogging against the young girl. His frock was open, and sometimes his prick passed out of the opening. He had made flogging an art; each stroke covered the whole surface of the bottom after only a few blows. The buttocks were burning and turning a deep pink. An intense heat was insinuating between the tightly closed legs, and began to burn in Monique's sex. “Open…” ordered the monk at each blow, but Monique was resisting, half by shame and half by pleasure, because she enjoyed the humiliating posture. But the man was whipping harder and an intense pain came in Monique's body. Dim at first, it became more precise and unbearable. Her body wriggled more and more violently. Her bottom was dancing in front of the men's eyes and they started undressing. Rape was in their eyes. They displayed in front of Sylvie the sight of their aroused virilities.
The blows were falling at a more rapid pace. The monk was aiming at the point where the thighs and the buttocks join. The tip of the lashes crashed in the middle of the triangle of flesh and delicate hair.
Just a few more blows and the pain in Monique's body became unbearable. She could feel the lash tips, like needles, going in her skin. Sometimes a lash would insinuate between the curled lips of her cunt and would stroke the damp flesh where it was the most sensitive. Monique was turning her bottom in all directions, trying to escape the torture. She was writhing voluptuously in the air. The coming pleasure made blood run faster in her veins, and beat wildly at her temples. She gnashed her teeth. Her fingers rasped on the velvet of the stool. Sylvie guessed that her orgasm was coming closer. She gave the monk a signal and he accelerated the rhythm. He aimed particularly at the joint between the thighs and the buttocks. It was like a fast, rough beat on the sex, but how exciting a caress it was. Monique opened and closed her thighs rapidly, thrusting first her bottom, then her cunt upward. But every time that the sex appeared the lashes caressed it deeply and sent an even more intense pain through her whole body.
Bending over that bottom, the men were watching this strange masturbation, waiting for the imminent spasm. It soon came, while Monique, her head dug between Sylvie's breasts, was sobbing, hiccuping, gasping, half suffering, half sunk in pleasure. Then her whole body was racked with a spasm. She bent on her knees, her legs shivered; four times the bottom came to meet the lashes that four times crashed vigorously on her sex from behind. Then her whole body tumbled down, kneeling at Sylvie's feet while from Monique's throat came a long, inarticulated moan.
They let the young girl recover consciousness while Sylvie was slowly undressing her. They offered her a glass of liquor and she drank it, feeling better.
Monique, naked except for her stockings, her shoes, and her little cap, was standing in front of the men, letting them admire her perfect body.
Caresses of the hands, suckings at her breasts-everything happened as in a dream. Her hands felt huge and warm phalluses pressing against her thighs. She grabbed between her fingers the hardened flesh. She caressed the long and shivering tools whose size was beginning to scare her.
But Sylvie was reassuring her, while softly biting at her little ears, and at the nape of her neck:
“All that is for you darling. In a little while, all that will be in your guts, for you alone… for you to be happy…”
And Monique, excited by the suction on her breasts, indulged in masturbating the erect rods.
Soon they turned her over on the couch. The monk, kneeling between her thighs put his mouth on her sex and a slow and delicate sucking soon had her sighing deeply. Two other mouths were on her large breasts, the hands running up and down her flat belly, over her hips, on her waist. Sylvie squatted above her. She felt the damp sex over her face and put her lips on that gaping mouth, sucked at the erected clitoris and abandoned herself, unconscious of what was happening around her. She sucked, licked, worshipped her friend's cunt with an increasing fervor. Her hands were slowly caressing the shivering rods that trembled under her fingers, and suddenly the orgasm came-as violent for Monique as for Sylvie. The two bodies, intoxicated with voluptuousness, tumbled over each other. And then came the rattle, and Monique's burning breath that plunged Sylvie into an abyss of pleasure.
Monique, quite exhausted, soon recovered all her spirits under the men's caresses. She found herself kneeling by the side of the sofa her bottoms up, offering the sight of her sex and of her anus to the perverted looks of the males. Resting on her elbows she was looking at the little box that Sylvie was holding in front of her, and stared at the three dildoes, shining with vaseline.
“Which one first, my darling?”
Still dizzy from all the pleasures she had just experienced, Monique chose the smallest. However it was approximately the size of a normal phallus, but the head was not as big as in real life, and more olive shaped. Monique guessed that the monk was kneeling behind her and that the others were staring at the displayed flesh. She felt the contact of the olive on her puckered little mouth, and the anus contracting, in spite of her desire for penetration. And immediately the rod was absorbed and disappeared completely in her, up to where the man's fingers were holding it. She felt it in her and a strangely sweet sensation filled her most intimate parts. She was excited by that forging tool being in her, and she could not help imagining her opened flesh with the extremity pointing out of it.
Sylvie's hand was already grabbing the second instrument. This one was bigger, and its head was rounder. It disappeared from Monique's sight and she did not even realize that the other one was removed from her slimy insides.
“No, no… I cannot, it is too big…”
It seemed to her as if her anus was endlessly distending, and that the flesh of her belly was getting tighter and tighter. “No… no…” she succeeded in articulating that little word but it was already too late and she could feel the man's finger against her skin. Then the whole tool was in her. She felt the warm breeze exhaled by the mouths close to her buttocks, and imagined the men contemplating her monstrous and voluptuous impalement. She hid her face in her hands and tried to conceal her shame. She was moaning and undulating under the thrusting of the instrument as the man held it.
They were all admiring the narrow mouth swallowing the hard pole, sticking to its contours.
Monique did not see Sylvie taking the other one in hand. It was at least seventeen inches long, and three inches wide. The only slightly compressible part was the end, made of some chemically treated rubber. It was four inches long, and offered a protuberance in its middle. It ended in a round bubble. A blue velvet handle was on the other extremity of the monstrous tool.
Monique realized that her arms and knees were held by two pairs of arms. The monk stood up, and holding the tool with both hands put its head on her orifice, already prepared by the former insertions. Then he looked at the two men, and at Sylvie, silently and slowly he pushed-
Monique opened her mouth, but the cry remained in her throat. Her eyes, widened with pain, were reflecting the fear that was holding her. It seemed to Monique that something incredibly big was edging its way in her, that her thighs were being monstrously taken apart, that she was ripping in two. A horrible suffering came in her. Her jaws trembled, then a hoarse cry came out of her throat, while with a sudden move, she tried desperately to free herself from the brutal possession. Her body, oscillating from one side to another tried to escape to the monstrous rod.
In seeming vain, the monk was pushing the instrument in her with all his strength. The head was slowly entering her, forcing the muscled mouth to open.
He stopped his efforts and dropped the engine. They could all admire the sight of that stake, planted in her, and its end, propped out of the distended bottom.
Shaken with nervous spasms, Monique was sighing softly, feeling that enormous ball between her buttocks that seemed anchored in her.
But the monk took the handle again, and softly, inexorably, slowly, pushed the dildo, helping its penetration. Another effort, and the distended asshole seemed to suck the phallus, to swallow it, and suddenly the gigantic thing slid in up to the velvet handle.
The monk dropped the handle, and they all stared at the monstrous dilation of her asshole. Her bottom was shaken by nervous spasms, and the whole body shivering. No longer could one see the puckered lips of her little hole. What was left out was vibrating under the pressure running and beating through Monique's veins.
The room was very silent, centered on that tortured bottom. The men caressed the exhausted woman, calming her nerves, appeasing her trembling body. They were trying to evaluate where in her body the end of the instrument was lying.
Little by little the pain eased away. And after a little while, Monique had only the impression of her asshole, distended by a gigantic lollipop.
When the monk grabbed the handle and started to pull the tool out of her, she hardly reacted. The man stopped when the protuberance reached the edge of her hole, and again he thrust the thing in her without her indicating any pain. They were all looking at the monstrous sodomization, and from the narrow mouth came a sucking noise that further aroused the men's virility.
Little by little-and being very careful to stay in the axis of her belly-the monk accelerated the pace and ass-fucked the girl faster and faster. The supple muscles offered no resistance now, but the man avoided pulling the tool completely out. When he withdrew the tool partially, the lips were showed and surrounded the contours of the dildo-it gave the illusion of some supernatural mastication. The monk was getting excited and he accelerated his pace. The sight of that huge pole being swallowed by that intimate mouth was unforgettable.
But within Monique's body, an unknown sensation was reaching deeper and deeper. That caress near her sex, that beating in her flesh, that involuntary sucking of her asshole on the pole-all that contributed to a new and voluptuously intense excitation in the young girl's body. Erotic images were flashing through her mind; she thought that she was a wild mare being raped by some monstrous organ. She was exciting herself, and little by little was offering her bottom to the phallus penetrating her so vigorously. She was not hurt-she wanted that embrace, and she did not reproach them for the rape.
She gave herself completely, closing her eyes, savoring the pleasure that was coming deep in her, and soon, she moaned as she had under the caress of Sylvie's lips. Her thighs, now free from the men's hands, were opening wider and wider. She thus offered herself to Sodom, and her sighs became rattles. Sometimes she uttered sweet words, strange love calls, but she could not see-her eyes were blurred by a voluptuous haze.
She was possessed by a strange frenzy. She agitated herself so that the rubbing and sucking of her flesh against the dildo became more intense. Her asshole was eating the dildo; it disappeared completely and reappeared with an increased sucking noise. The monk accelerated the movements of the phallus in her body. He could feel the repercussions of the intense contractions of her insides on that hard material. Then came long cries of pleasure, the last convulsions of the orgasm, and with a long cry, the broken body crumpled over the sofa, the phallus still up to the handle in her ass.
They removed the stake so that she would not hurt herself, and left her alone a little while to allow her to rest. But soon after she again had to kneel down. She could feel flesh beating between her buttocks. A prick touched her ass. Another sigh and the monk's tool penetrated completely into her. She felt the burning belly on her buttocks, the testicles glued to her cunt. She could not do anything under that new assault, but abandon herself completely to the man who was abusing her with rage. She felt the burning sperm in her guts and the weight of the man, lying on her back. But already another was taking his place, and a thinner but harder rod was beating in her belly. She was trying to find satisfaction, concentrating her whole being on the hard flesh that was ramming in her insides, but once again he let loose before she could come.
“Enough… oooh… enough, no more… not that…”
In vain. The third was plunging a short but thick prick in her hurting asshole, and with rapid strokes was sodomizing the exhausted young girl. But he was stronger, and by a long embrace succeeded in bringing the young girl to the final and delightful spasm. She gave herself to him by the ass, following his pace. And when he spat in her his burning sperm, she contracted, avidly pumping the delightful sap, and fell over the sofa.
Caressing her, they brought her back, but Sylvie made a sign, and they dressed and left. Shortly afterwards, Monique being alone with Sylvie, was caressed and soon forgot all the pain of the monstrous rapes she had just gone through.