Anonymous

The Club, Vol 1 and 2

VOLUME I

If I had been careful and cautious and watched what I had said, I would never have come to know about “The Club", and certainly I never would have become a member and enjoyed the bizarre privileges which membership gives. For years I've known that some of my ideas were definitely not acceptable to most people, so I have to be very careful of what I say even among friends. All that time it had never occurred to me that there was any chance of actually doing the things I had thought about. My problem was simply not to let people know what I thought about.

I suppose it was the three martinis before lunch that got me started, but it was just plain old-fashioned good luck that gave me the proper audience for my slip, and turned what could have been a terrible mistake into wonderful good fortune. John Murphy and I were drinking our lunch at the bar in a swank restaurant just off Madison Avenue, as happens every now and then when you are in my line of business. I'm in charge of advertising for a big company that is pretty well known, so I won't stick my chin out by mentioning its name. And John Murphy is a vice president of a well known advertising agency who that year was handling our account, — a matter running into millions of dollars. This meant that he was duty-bound to be extra nice to me and buy me drinks and laugh at my jokes and otherwise brown-nose me, so as to keep me wanting his agency to have our account. John and I have hit it off pretty well for several years, business-wise, even thought we know almost nothing about each other outside of business. I know he is married and lives somewhere up in Westchester with his wife and a couple of kids, and he probably knows that I am divorced and live alone in an apartment on the east side of Manhattan. Well, this day, after the third martini, and while we were waiting for the fourth to be delivered to our table, John excused himself to go to the men's room to take a leak. While he was gone, I idly picked up the early edition of the evening paper, and glanced over the headlines, just for something to do till he got back.

There were glaring headlines that the police had caught the man who had kidnapped and raped a six-year-old girl a couple of days before. The nude and mutilated body of the girl had been found, dead by strangulation, in a vacant lot within a matter of hours after she had disappeared. The authorities had picked up a drunken, middle-aged, moronic ex-janitor who lived in the neighborhood and had confessed the crime. He had a past record of several sex-offenses against children, so it looked like they had the right culprit.

I was reading all this over when John got back from taking his leak, and he glanced across our table as he sat down beside me, to see what I was reading. When he spotted the item that held my interest, he said, “It's all right to be eccentric in how you get your kicks, but that guy was sort of abusing the privilege.”

I grunted something meaningless and kept reading for a few seconds more. John then added, “And the worst thing that poor bastard did was get caught. That's the worst crime.”

Without thinking, — saying what was in my mind, but definitely not what I intended to say, I heard myself saying, “Maybe it was worth it.”

There was a pause of horrible silence while I realized what had come out in the few seconds that my guard was down. I glanced up quickly at John and managed a weak smile into his face which was staring down into mine with a peculiar interest.

“What I mean is, maybe the poor bastard was so hard up to get laid that he screwed the little girl because he couldn't get the real thing.” I tried to cover up the break I'd made. “I mean, even doing it to that child may have been worth it to that poor crazy drunk, — he was so mixed up.”

John just kept on looking at me without saying anything, and in a way that was worse than if he had laughed at the silly thing I'd blurted out, or even asked me what the hell I was talking about. In these few moments my brain was whirling with panic while I tried to figure out whether I should laugh it off as a pointless slip of my tongue or try to explain that I had meant something else. If John should learn that I had really meant exactly what I had said, even though I had not meant to say it, I had visions of my whole business and personal life going to pieces in an awful mess.

Who would want to associate in business or admit he knew as a friend a monster in human form who dreamed of raping and otherwise sexually abusing little girls? And that is just the kind of a perverted ogre I am. Lying in bed alone at night, all I have to do is start thinking in every possible lewd detail about having some immature girl in my power, naked, maybe eight years old, helpless, and I begin to get excited. If I go on in my fantasy so that I imagine feeling all over her writhing little body with my hands, and hearing her scream and protest against what I am doing to her, then my cock begins to stiffen and my fingers quiver with passion. And if I go on from here to where I'm trying to jam my big tool into the little slit and hole between her childish thighs, — well I just shoot my load and may not even have to touch my throbbing cock with my own hands to make it go off.

Adult mature women and girls, no matter how beautiful of face and body, all leave me fairly cold. That was one of the reasons for my divorce. I didn't work up enthusiasm often enough to satisfy my wife, and she began to suspect that my sexual interests were not centered around her. She never guessed what I really wanted, thank God, and we were divorced before anything happened to give her any hint.

Every now and then I'd find some pornographic book that told about men having sex with little girls, and that would provide me with some thrills, but most of the time my sexual activities were purely mental, in my own brain. And now that I was in my mid-forties and very successful in business, I had taken a chance on losing everything by my carelessness in speaking after martinis at lunch.

All this flashed through my mind in the few seconds that John Murphy kept staring at me in his intent way. He seemed surprised but not displeased at what I had said, so I hoped to be able to bluff him out of taking it seriously. I was trying very hard hot to look guilty so he would not attach any importance to my slip. “These drinks sure pack a wallop, don't they?” I said to him jokingly. “They sure got my tongue all twisted up.”

“What's in you when you're sober, comes out when you're drunk,” he answered, still looking at me closely.

Our fourth round of drinks arrived just then, to create a diversion, and I said, “You're crazy as hell, John.”

“Maybe I am,” he admitted. “But I'm sure I got the message you didn't intend to send me. And that makes both of us crazy. Doesn't it?”

I didn't know what he was getting at, but I knew that I was in very dangerous territory if I expected to keep my terrible secret to myself. I was about to protest some more when he silenced me with a gesture. After glancing around to be sure he would not be overheard, he asked me, “Have you ever heard of The Club?”

“I've heard of dozens of clubs here in the city. What one are you talking about?” I asked.

“I'm talking about a very special one. It has no other name, — just The Club. And it caters to members who have very special tastes, and who can afford to pay to enjoy those expensive special tastes,” he told me cryptically.

“I don't know what in hell you're talking about,” I said lightly. “It sounds to me as though the drinks have got you talking through your hat, just like me.”

“That could be,” he replied. “But I think we're both talking through the same kind of hat. I'll bet that if you'll admit the truth, your ideas of fun in some departments are just as crazy as mine. Since you can afford it, I'm surprised you have never heard of The Club.”

“What is the club you keep talking about?” I demanded, hoping he had not guessed my secret urges, but also hoping that possibly he might be leading me toward a way to satisfy my off-beat urges. “I can afford almost anything that's fun. Tell me more about it.”

John refused to talk much about it, but after I had promised to maintain utmost secrecy about anything I learned or saw, he offered to take me to this weird place, The Club, as his guest that evening”. He promised me that I'd find it amusing and entertaining in any event, and if I really liked what I found there, he would see that I became a member. We arranged to meet at his office at five.

Not knowing what to expect, I struggled through the afternoon and the hands of the clock on my desk seemed welded in place, so slowly did they move. I didn't know whether to fear what was coming, in the way of a disclosure of my perverted tastes, or to hope that John understood my desires and knew of a way to provide actual satisfaction for me, better than just daydreaming myself into ecstasy.

When I entered his private office, he calmly told me that he had arranged things for my visit at The Club. We casually left the building, as at the end of any normal business day and he led me in a short walk across town toward the east side where the neighborhood was very middle-class, with lots of small stores containing delicatessens, laundries, beauty-parlors, dry-cleaning establishments and similar small businesses.

In front of a row of these nondescript stores, John stopped by a small panel truck, and quietly said, “Here is our transportation. We'll just hop in the back and start on our ride.”

We climbed in and found comfortable padded and upholstered benches on each side. The door slammed shut behind us and the truck immediately started up. I started to ask John about all this secrecy, but he cut me off. “Until you are a full-fledged member of The Club, you cannot know where it is. Such knowledge would be potentially too dangerous for the other members, and possibly for you, too. Just trust me and I think you'll find it worthwhile.”

The truck turned and twisted and stopped and curved so I had no idea even as to the general direction we were taking. John kept talking to distract me, and after about twenty minutes, the truck slowed, seemed to drive down a ramp or runway, and came to a stop. I heard muffled voices and then the back door swung open.

We climbed out, into a small room that had sliding doors which closed immediately. Then I realized that we had been delivered directly into an elevator within some large building. After ascending what must have been several floors, the rising car stopped and the sliding door opened again. We stepped out into a pleasant lounge such as might have been the entrance of any smart exclusive club in the city.

A dignified gray-haired man greeted John, but did not call him by name. John only said, “This is the friend I phoned that I was bringing. I'm certain that he will be interested in The Club and the opportunities which it offers for the expression and acting-out of artistic and emotional creativity in all its meanings. We will sit over there on the divan while I show him our catalogue and find out his particular field of interest. I'll let you know our plans later, but you can arrange for us to have dinner here.”

I was led by my friend over to the luxurious leather sofa at one end of the lounge, and on the way he picked up a thick bound portfolio. We sat down and he leafed quickly through this catalogue till he found what he was looking for. My casual glance showed that the album consisted of photographs neatly mounted under plastic protectors, but when John handed me the big book opened to what he had found, I nearly dropped it when I saw the pictures on those pages.

The photograph on the left sheet showed a young girl of maybe six, completely naked so that her undeveloped body was revealed in every detail, being flogged on her bare ass by a grown man with a short quirt in his hand, while he forced the child to suck his huge erect cock with her dainty mouth. The dark welts where the whip had stung her cute round ass-cheeks, and the tears streaming down her face from her pain and fear and humiliation, were all clearly revealed in the picture. The man's face had been obscured beyond any chance of recognition when the picture was printed, but the girl was shown with superb clarity.

The opposite page of the album was even more exotic, for it showed another child, this time a blonde, as distinguished from the brunette first one, being cruelly raped on a huge bed by an adult man, obviously old enough to be her father, or even her grandfather. This child was about eight years old, and her hands were stretched wide out toward the sides of the bed and held there by tight ropes around her slim young wrists. From the position of her legs, it was obvious that she was fighting her attacker as well as she could, but the photograph clearly showed that his big stiff prick was being driven into the hairless pink slit between her thighs, and her mouth was open with the scream which announced the agony of her rending defloration. Again the man's face had been effectively disguised by the photographer but there was no question as to the age or beauty of his childish victim, or what he was doing to her.

“What do you think of these pictures?” asked John.

“They're fantastic.” I answered sincerely. “Is this what your club does? — collect terrific pictures of unusual sex activities with young children? And how do you ever get them to pose for the photos?”

“Those pictures aren't posed,” replied John, smiling at my mistake. “Those pictures were taken by a concealed camera and they record exactly what they seem to, — men getting thrills out of abusing young girls in any way they like. While I go see about getting us a couple of drinks, you can look through the rest of the catalogue.”

He rose and strode off, and I began to leaf through the large leather-covered album from the beginning. It contained at least a hundred superb photographs, and each one depicted with amazing clarity and detail some bizarre and perverted form of sexual activity. Just as a collector's item of pornographic pictures, the album must have been worth a small fortune, for I'm sure that every imaginable variation of exciting sexual possibilities was illustrated. And John had assured me that they were not posed but had been photographed during their actual performance.

There were pictures showing men horribly mistreating beautiful women and girls, and also being mistreated by sternly dominating beautiful women. Every possible position for screwing was illustrated, and the same went for cock-sucking and buggering. There were men enjoying sex with other men, and with young boys. There were sex-acts involving animals, and also involving complicated machines and instruments. There were scenes showing women playing intimately with other women, and with young girls and with young boys. There were pictures of children of both sexes toying with each other in the lewdest possible ways. And there were several examples of the type of sexual variance which I enjoy, — men attacking very young girl-children and subjecting them to terrible indignities and rape.

When John returned with two drinks, I was boiling over with questions. He silenced me with a gesture and said, 'I'll tell you everything, you can know about The Club now. Later when you decide whether you want to join, you will learn more, including where it is.

“Membership here is restricted to wealthy men who enjoy variations from so-called normal sex. You saw that there were no pictures of regular sex in the catalogue, for we assume that a man can get all of that without coming here for it. The catalogue merely shows the types of off-beat sex which we have provided for our members, and which we are prepared to provide at any time for them. Whenever anything new is developed, we photograph it and put it in the catalogue, just in case any other member wants to try it.

“The men's faces are all disguised, as you saw, during the processing of the pictures, so that there is no trouble about embarrassment for the members with the other members or guests. And you will understand why I said that our clientele are wealthy men when I tell you that the initiation fee for the club is $10,000 and that the charge is $100 for every time you come here for some sexual stimulation. This service fee is the minimum fee, and in addition you have to pay any extra charges which the management has incurred in meeting your special requirements. It costs $100 to bring in a guest, and we have to be very careful about the guests we introduce, for obvious reasons, arid I am personally responsible for you and your behavior, since I brought you here. Now, have you any questions?”

I was stunned at what I had seen and heard, but my excitement and curiosity were so great that I could scarcely contain myself. “You mean that if I become a member of this organization I can have any imaginable kind of sex-fun here, as long as I can afford to pay for it? And that as your guest this evening I can take my pick of any of the different forms of sexual enjoyment shown in this bizarre catalogue? This whole setup is so crazy and impossible that I almost think you are pulling some kind of a weird practical joke on me. Is this for real?”

John smiled at my amazed doubts, and signalled me to accompany him down a nearby hall. He drew a keyring from his pocket and opened one of a row of small lockers that lined one wall of the hall. He removed a large manila envelope, relocked the metal vault, and then we went back to the leather couch in the lounge. While opening the envelope, John said to me, “As you can probably guess from my name, Murphy, I come from Irish stock, and am a Roman Catholic. Due to some unfortunate incidents in my early childhood, I grew up with a great fear and hatred of all official representatives of my religion, such as priests and nuns. Since both of these classes of religious devotees are supposedly dedicated to celibacy and chastity, my neurotic distaste for them is all mixed up with sex. Now take a look at these personal pictures of mine which I just go from my private safe, and you'll see my kind of sexual abnormalcy, and believe the truth of what I've been telling you about The Club.”

He handed me a dozen or so large clear photographs, and as I glanced through them, the truth of what I had heard became all to evident. Each photo showed John, clearly recognizable, as indulging in some form of sex, usually abnormal, with a woman in the costume of a nun. In one picture, the nun was tied against a cross with her habit pinned up behind as he flogged her ass with a heavy whip. In another, the nun, helplessly tied, was having her exposed breasts whipped, and pinched by John's fingers. In still another, the nun was being flogged while on her knees in front of John, being forced to suck his cock. Another showed a nun, obscenely exposed, being fucked by John while she was bound to a cross in a classic religious pose. One which caught my eye particularly showed a man in priest's garb being beaten while forced to jerk himself off, and at the same time lick a nun's cunt while she sucked John's rigidly erect cock.

The compulsive need he had to debase and dominate religious people in order to enjoy sex himself, showed the deep emotional injuries which he had suffered as a child. But now, at least, I could no longer doubt the reality of The Club, and the wild and bizarre things which happened there for the amusement of its members. And I could become a member of this fantastic institution! And most important of all, I was RIGHT NOW a guest there with all the facilities of the place at my disposal! All I had to do was ask and I could have for my sexual pleasure almost any imaginable partner and situation.

I felt a wonderful inner excitement churning up within me, a combination of sexual anticipation and a deep emotional fulfillment. I gripped John firmly by the hand and tried to show him my heartfelt appreciation of the opportunity he had opened up for me. I knew that he had done me this favor at least partly to insure my business loyalty to him, in the same sense that he would buy me drinks at a bar or give me theater tickets to a hit show, but I also knew that it took trust and sincere friendship for him to reveal in detail his own sexual abnormality and to provide me with the chance at such satisfying fulfillment for mine.

“John, I can never repay you for introducing me to this wonderful place. You were completely right in guessing that little girls were my weakness, even though I have never been able to do anything about it, and hadn't even admitted it to myself until a few years ago. If this place gives me a chance to bring to life some of the fantasies and daydreams I've had about enjoying children sexually, I'll be forever in your debt. Your secret and the secrets of this club will be safe with me, of course, because to reveal them would also be revealing my own idiosyncrasies and laying myself open to terrible punishment from the authorities as well as from society.” I paused, trying to convince him of my sincerity and appreciation. Then I continued tensely, “And did you mean it when you said that tonight, this very evening, I can have a little girl as a sex-partner? Like in the catalogue pictures?”

“Yes. Anything shown in the catalogue can be supplied right from stock. Regular members look through the book from time to time, searching for new and different kinds of thrills when they are temporarily bored with their own special kind of abnormality,” John assured me. “And I have already arranged for us to have dinner in a small private dining-room so that you won't have to wait until after we eat to begin enjoying yourself. While we are eating you can be stimulated, each in our own way, in preparation for what will come later.”

Within half an hour his prophesy came true, for we were comfortably seated in a small dining-room. John's perverted entertainment was already prepared and very much in evidence, so that he could start his cruel and profane pleasure at once. On a heavy wooden cross beside his chair was trussed a beautiful woman in the somber concealing garb of a nun. Her hands were bound outstretched to the arms of the cross, and her feet were bound to the base of the upright, so that her pointed toes could help support a part of her hanging weight.

Probably aware of what was in store for her, the young woman's face showed a terrible fear through the pain which her enforced pose caused her. John gloated over her helplessness as soon as we entered the room and he lewdly ran his hands over her body, an obscene gesture which she could do nothing to prevent. Then he thrust his hands roughly into the bosom of her dark enveloping habit tearing it down the front nearly to her waist. He grabbed her breasts which were thus exposed and dragged them out of her clothes, stretching the cloth around under the protruding glorious hemispheres so that they were displayed in all their beauty within the frame of her coarse black garments, and easily available for his further attentions of torturing and humiliating her.

Next John had lifted up the many loose folds of the skirt of her ecclesiastical uniform, revealing in front her loose coarse white drawers. He stuffed the front of her dress into the belt which encircled her waist so that her crotch region was exposed to his hands and eyes. Now, despite her cringing and moaning, he ripped the whole front out of her so-modest drawers, and I could see the dark delta of her cunt-hair displayed.

All this time John had been muttering to himself, working himself up to a fury of rage at the helpless bound woman trussed to the cross. He now dug a finger viciously between her straining thighs, up into her cunt. She screamed at this vile attack but he just grinned evilly into her face as he gloated over his defilement of her helpless modesty.

“That will do for now,” he told me. “I just want her in condition for me to tease and torment while we eat. After dinner I'll really do a job on her, and when I'm through she'll be sorry she ever wanted to act like a nun. The managers of The Club got her from an acting school because she was sure she could play the part of a holy sister. She is very religious and a virgin, so she's almost as good for my purposes as a real nun would be.”

With one hand still busy fingering the poor girl's virgin cunt, John pressed a button with the other hand to alert the commissary department of the institution that we were ready to have our dinner served.

Within seconds the door opened and a little girl about seven years old peered in, hesitating and frightened. “Ith thith the right plathe?” she lisped, her face pale and strained by being thrust into an unknown and frightening situation. “I mean, ith thith where I'm meant to bring dinner for you two gentlemen?”

“Yes, you're in the right place, little girl,” replied John curtly. “Don't just stand there shivering. Get on with whatever you've been told to do.”

The child's head disappeared for a moment and then she came back carrying two shrimp cocktails which she placed before us on the table. As she was about to leave the room, I grasped her by the arm and asked, “What's your name young lady? And what are you doing here playing waitress?”

“My name ith Thuthie, and I know that I have a lithp, so pleathe don't laugh at me about it,” she said slowly and shyly. “And I was told to bring you your dinner and do anything elthe you told me to do, no matter what.”

I glanced over to John who was enjoying my pleased amazement, while still idly playing with the pseudo-nun's cunny with one hand, an occupation which she was trying to evade by wildly writhing her hips in an effort to escape his lewd and painful attentions. I raised my eyebrows, silently questioning him as to whether it was all right to go ahead with this delightful child. He smiled and nodded his permission, so I inspected the little girl more closely to see exactly what and who I was dealing with. I still held her arm in my hand, and I slowly turned her around in a complete circle, to see all of her.

She wore a pale blue dress, with a short very bouffant skirt that stood out around her hips most daintily and cutely. It was held out from her amazingly trim little middle by layers of ruffled petticoats which seemed to cascade down from the hem of the skirt to her crotch at the very top of her chubby little legs in an unending sequence of ruffled white. The top of the dress hugged her slim unformed chest, and had a fluffy white collar around her tiny neck.

She must have been about four feet tall, with a long blonde pony-tail jutting jauntily out from the back of her head. Her face was childishly round, with big blue eyes, a small straight nose, and the most sensuous, full, pouting lips I have ever seen on a girl of any age. Even at her ultra-tender years, her mouth seemed to be asking to be kissed, so ripe did those sensitive, full lips seem. And I had visions of other duties for that mouth and those lips before I was through with her.

Below the full out-swinging skirt billowing over its sea of dainty demure white ruffles, were long rounded legs, still childishly chubby, but showing promise of turning into glamorous female limbs in ten years or less. Susie's ankles were clad in short white socks, and she wore black low-heeled patent-leather pumps with a strap across her instep. All in all she was a wholly delightful seven-year old miss, all dressed up for a party. And what a party it was going to be. She seemed frightened, but nowhere near as frightened as she would have been if she had known anything about what I had in mind doing to and with her before this memorable evening was over.

Susie's terror now increased, for she noticed the bound and exposed figure of the nun trussed against the cross, with her big breasts thrusting out through the ripped front of her garments, and John's hand toying with her bared cunt through her ripped drawers. As the child stiffened with frightened surprise, I turned her toward me and asked her, “Did they tell you anything about what you were going to do with me later?”

“No, they just told me to do whatever you said, or-or-.” She murmured solemnly.

“Or else what?” I asked.

“Or else they would beat me again, like they did last week when I first was brought here. I tried to escape, and I got the most awful beating. I thought I was going to die they hurt me so bad. All over, too.”

“Did they tell you anything I might want you to do?” I asked the child.

“They said you might tell me to get undressed, or at least take my panties off.” she said shyly. “And they said I had to do it if you told me to.”

Her scared glances kept sneaking over to where John was still finger-fucking the crucified nun, so I asked the child what she thought of that.

“It looks like he's hurting her.” she answered. “I'm glad he's not doing that to me. I wouldn't like it.”

“Maybe I'll try that with you later, Susie.” I told her. “Just to see if you'd like it. But now, while we are eating our shrimp cocktail, I want you to stand here right near me and then bend way over away from me. That way I'll be able to see and feel your cute round little bottom while you take off your panties, just like they told you.”

She hesitated for a moment at this indecent order from an adult total stranger. She looked at the older girl in the nun's habit, bound to the cross and weeping and struggling to escape the obscene handling by John, but then Susie remembered the whipping she had received for disobeying before, so she began to react as ordered.

Within easy reach of my hand as I sat at the small dining table and dunked my shrimp in the hot stimulating cocktail sauce, little Susie bent over away from me. At first she looked in this position like a perfect circle of white frills and ruffles, from the middle of which two firm pink legs projected straight down. The crisp petticoats kept her wide skirt out from her hips even when she leaned over like this, and the sea of cute ruffles extended down to a narrow band that passed between her plump thighs.

One of my hands gently caressed her upper legs and felt the firmly rounded outlines of her bottom, even as she seemed to flinch from my touch. Then I urged her on to taking off her panties, and she reached her hands up among the welter of ruffles to unfasten the waistband that held her cute little panties up. After some tugging and wiggles, the whole central section of the frilly white circle seemed to come out as she pulled down the garment while still leaving the short surrounding petticoats.

As soon as I saw how the operation worked, I told the child that I'd take over from there. Slowly to tease myself with this wildest dream come true, I pulled down her white ruffled panties till they hung about her thighs, well below her crotch. Her buttocks and ass and cunt were all starring right at me, within easy reach, and all so bare and pink and cute that I thought I was going to cry out in sheer pleasure at having a lifelong dream realized.

At first I only dared look, not wanting to touch for fear that I would wake up and find the whole evening was just a figment of my demented imagination. Framed in the crisp white frills of her starched petticoats were the delightfully round pink hills of her bottom, with the delicate groove of her ass running down the middle. In that strained pose I could even see the darker pink rosebud of her anus nestled at the bottom of the tender, soft valley. And just below was the tight slit with the fat pink lips on either side that was her childish cunt. It was partly hidden between her thighs, but I could see enough to know that it was there, and that it was mine. Susie was all mine to use in any way that pleased me.

As I gradually came to accept the reality of this bizarre and exciting situation, my hands reached out and gently caressed the soft warm flesh. I have heard men crudely describe things as being smooth as a baby's ass”. Susie was not really a baby, but I know that I have never felt anything so smooth and radiantly warm and caressable as that little bottom as my hands ran lovingly over it. After a few moments of this gentle stroking, Susie seemed to relax a little when she was subjected to no pain. But I felt her tense up with alarm when I drew a finger softly down the velvet groove between those exquisite buttocks, just barely stroking her little asshole and her cuntlips.

Then I patted her lightly across her bottom with the palm of my hand, and said, “All right, Susie. You can stand up now and bring in the soup.”

She jerked upright and turned toward me, her face a bright red from embarrassment and from bending over. And surprisingly enough she looked even cuter and more exciting as she stood there before me, ready to remove the cocktail dishes from the table. With her hands full, I had her stand there a moment and turn slowly around so that I could savor the full beauty of the sight.

Her wide bouffant skirt was held out from her little body by the supporting petticoats, and below I could clearly see her whole lower belly, hips, and crotch. In front her bare hairless slit was rimmed by plum pink lips that almost seemed to be pouting for my attention. In back the deep valley between her ass-cheeks only made their perky prominence more delectable. And she was naked and available and MINE all the way from her trim little waist down to her demure little white ankle-socks.

This experience was too completely wonderful for me to take a chance on spoiling it by rushing things. I had complete faith in my friend John, and in the management of this wonderful institution known as The Club, so I knew that with them supplying the raw materials, it was up to me to turn the evening into a really superb experience for myself, no matter what it might cost Susie, my child partner in the approaching activities.

“All right, Susie. Now get us the soup course.” I told her, and my heart and soul jumped with pleasure at the sight of her little ass-cheeks alternately tensing and relaxing as she walked away from me to obey. In a matter of seconds she was back with steaming bowls of soup, and as she walked toward me I could see the firm round thighs pumping back and forth beside her little cunt-slit as if they were intentionally caressing it and stimulating it for my future enjoyment.

When she had placed the dishes before us, I had had stand close beside me again, and while eating with my right hand, I gently inserted the middle finger of my left hand between her plump little thighs, very high up, just where they joined her belly. The child winced, and started to object to my move, but a stern glance from me, and the memory of her lesson in discipline, kept her obedient and passive. I made no effort to hurt or violate her in any way, for I just greatly caressed this hot pink grotto, teasing myself with this preview of what was to come.

When we had finished the soup, which was so good that even under these bizarre circumstances I noticed and enjoyed its superb flavor and bouquet, I had Susie remove the empty plates and bring in the main course which had been provided. Filet Mignon, rare in the middle but with a crust of well-done on the outside from the charcoal broiler, was accompanied by hashed-in-cream potatoes and asparagus tips with Hollandaise sauce. In spite of the obvious distractions, I managed to eat most of my servings and enjoyed every mouthful. During this course I had little Susie lie down on her stomach across my lap, so that her cute little chubby bottom was directly below my eyes, and readily available to my hands at all times. With her full skirt flipped up, there was visible across my legs, the cutest, most exciting, most delectable little set of hips and bottom-cheeks that could ever be imagined, and I took full advantage of their nearness by allowing my hands to play all over and around them whenever I was not actively engaged in cutting food or conveying it to my mouth. In addition to being aesthetically pleased with the party and my partner, I could now feel myself becoming physically excited by her closeness and the fact that I knew she was mine to use as my whims and desires dictated. This rising tide of sensual urges only served to increase the avidness with which my hands caressed and explored the exquisite conformations of Susie's delightful hips, buttocks, and thighs. She squirmed slightly under my intimate attentions, but dared not protest or try to evade my hands.

As he finished this entree John became bored with merely viewing and diddling his victim. He picked one of the candles from its holder on the table, and extended its flame toward the exposed and trussed nun till it was just below one of her darkly-pink nipples.

Instantly she shrieked in agony as her superlatively tender flesh was scorched, and he withdrew the flame to watch and enjoy her suffering. “Go ahead and bellow as loud as you want. No one can hear it outside of this room, and listening to your screams just gives added pleasure to my friends and me. And if you think what you just felt is bad, just wait till you feel what I'm dreaming up for you later this evening. Then you'll really know what pain is.”

After this encouragement to the helpless suffering girl, he applied the flame beneath her other nipple, and smiled in terrible sadistic pleasure as she screamed and struggled under the torture and we could all smell the aroma of broiling flesh. At length he stopped this torment and sat gloating at the terrible ordeal he was subjecting her to.

When she had calmed a little and was only whimpering in agony from the seared summits of her lovely breasts, John again thrust the burning candle at her defenseless body. This time the flickering flame singed the hairy thatch that overshadowed the entrance to her cunt, and the odor of burning hair greeted our nostrils. She jerked and cried in alarm as she saw the flame approaching her crotch, but it was several seconds before he was actually burning the sensitive tissues at the front of her vulva. With her legs bound tightly together in her enforced pose on the cross, John could not effectively remove all the hair from her cunt, for a lot was protectively clamped between her full firm thighs.

As a final gesture of contempt and torture, John now thrust the burning end of the candle deep in between her legs, paralleling the lips of her cunt and burning them for their whole length before the flame was extinguished for lack of air within the tight ere vase.

From the side of her eye, Susie had seen most of these horrible events, and she was quaking with fear for her own safety and comfort. My sexual excitement had been growing, both from Susie's delightful proximity and from watching John's sadistic torture of his nun-like victim. Within my trousers my cock was standing stiffly at attention and pressing upward into Susie's prone form.