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Chapter 1 henrietta felt as though she was living a dream, a dream riding upon the heels of a nightmare. The change had been sudden and dramatic, though she had been slow to realize and understand that although the nature of the dream had changed, it was not as if she was waking up to arrive back where she was before the nightmare began. It had been very confusing and his mind had not been quite right. Most vivid in her memories was the hunger. And the thirst. It seemed that for days on end she had gotten nothing to eat. She had just had to change, obey, and accept the pain and discomfort of dressing to the nines like a used whore. A very used whore. The pain ran close behind: Of booted heels too high and too small; of a corset that continued to tighten and tighten, even as she dropped pounds and waist sizes like water through a sieve; of a plug that was far too large for her untrained ass -- she had been surprised to find that she had bled copiously from there; and of continuing spankings by paddle or hand, or just getting kicked. The humiliation of everything, from blowjobs, to being filthy and exposed, to her Wife Desiree ridiculing her endlessly. All of that blended into her sleeplessness and faded with it too. What remained seared into her memory was that actions had been taken over the last weeks that could not be untaken. And she was a changed man. Her nipples were pierced once and her ears thrice, her eyelashes and all of her hair, every last scrap of it had been removed. The corset had reduced her waist, and the heels made it painful for her to walk without heels. And she was in the papers. The headlines had said, in varying words: Multimillionaire Reduced to Transvestite Prostitute by Domineering Wife! Wife charged with attempted murder! Husband under care of state guardian. Ms. Chantel had shown her the pictures. One was of her, and even now, she could barely believe how truly mad she looked, with her face so coated with makeup and come that she looked to be wearing a mask, wearing tatters of a maid's dress and ripped plastic boots. Another had shown Desiree, struggling as she was being forced into a police car by two policemen. She had looked somewhat insane too, but in an evil, yet beautiful way. She didn't really remember that incident very well, except that the Maid Mistress, Dianna, had thrown her into a porcelain bathtub in the main room, and she had bruised her hip and bashed her head fiercely. Then there had been a gun firing, and commotion and she had slept. Finally. There had been so little sleep. Later, Ms. Chantel had woken her and assisted her to the Jacuzzi, where Chantel had stripped and pulled in after her. Then bit by bit, Ms. Chantel had removed her clothing, right there in the Jacuzzi: The gloves, and the torn maid's dress were first, the shredded PVC boots, and stockings next. Then Ms. Chantel dunked her under and kept her there and layers and layers of makeup and come melted away and made the water of the Jacuzzi colorful. The water had been hot, and her fake lashes and her neon wig floated off. When she had been allowed to raise her head out of the water, Ms. Chantel had kissed her like a lover, a long and lingering kiss and her eyes, though strong, had been kind. She had almost cried. Soon after, the corset, and latex, and even the plug came off, until finally all of her old clothes were bubbling and floating with them in the gently lit Jacuzzi with it's heat and calming bubbles and she nestled into Ms. Chantel's arms. He had felt embarrassed, very, for she was almost he, and ugly at that, with stubble now beginning to show on her face and skull, but Ms. Chantel had cooed to her, and told her to rest and that She owned her and all would be well. She remembered this. For the next several days, she had slept. Her body was spent, and Ms. Chantel took kindly care of her in the large bed of the guest room. Ms. Chantel fed her fruits and salads and built up her strength. A corset was placed on her again, as she rested, and stockings, and short high heeled boots, even as she slept, but they felt loose, almost supportive compared to what had been before. A smaller plug, one she hardly noticed, though it was still large, was inserted. In the morning and evening she received an enema, but Ms. Chantel was kind and patient and made it seem natural. And Ms. Chantel slept with her and cuddled her. henrietta was spanked daily each morning, and lectured to, while she counted, but the paddling somehow seemed right and fitting, and didn't hurt as much. There seemed to be a difference between a spanking based on love and a spanking based on revenge. Ms. Chantel assisted her each day with her showers, followed by long bathes, making sure that depilatories were applied and reapplied, until once again, henrietta was as hairless as a cue ball, and this embarrassed her, for she felt very ugly and weak. But Ms. Chantel continued to be kind. And each morning and evening, she was allowed to show her appreciation by licking Ms. Chantel's lavender smelling pussy. These memories were vivid to her, crouched between Ms. Chantel's legs, and giving and receiving Her pleasure. She felt, often, that this was what she was made for. But still she did not come. Now they were at Glam's again. This time, Ms. Chantel had parked at the near entrance of the mall, and strode arm in arm with henrietta. She had on a black trenchcoat and low white hat, white stockings. One of her boots was black, and the other white. henrietta sensed that Ms. Chantel was not good with stark choices. She had seen Her dress somewhat like this before. In her mind, the back of it, she thought that it was because Ms. Chantel did not understand that yes is yes, and no is no, and black is black. For Ms. Chantel, with colors, there was always a way to compromise: Ms. Chantel doesn't believe in rules. henrietta wasn't sure of this, but she was sure that She looked radiant. Ms. Chantel was wearing high spiked knee high boots in a vivid crimson that matched Her hair. Her corset was a shade darker, and her stockings a shade lighter. She was wearing a corset and panty set, that could just be discerned through her sheer multilayer chiffon. It was angle cut at the hem and cross cut at the sleeves, and dipped daringly to expose her breasts. That was colored orange. Her made up was strong but perfect. She wore no gloves. And she looked radiant, with a smile that showed white teeth and tilted eyes, and wild red tresses. They had got glances, with jaws dropping and men staring and women glaring, but they disappeared into the back room where henrietta had been dressed formally, long ago, for the first time. Kimba and Leslie were there, waiting. Chapter 2: henrietta gets real "Chantel," Leslie said, ignoring henrietta. "You look simply radiant! I've read all about the issues, in the papers. You have worn it well, dear." Kimba bowed to Chantel, and then curtsied to henrietta. Henrietta blushed. Her mind was still fogged, and somehow, another Lady, Kimba, even, curtseying to her, of all things, seemed, wrong. She curtsied back. Chantel saw this, and smiled with a nod. "Les, it was a non issue, dear, but thank you for your concern. I suppose I am famous for a moment, and will have to be watchful, but for now, slut is here to get glammed up, like she is supposed to be." "Oui, Chantel," Leslie said, smiling. "But. Less or more? Please give me directions, Maitresse." Chantel glowered for a moment, then smiled, showing teeth. "slut is soon to be my wife. Somewhat less, dear, and somewhat more." "I am puzzled, Chantel, and what for, for you?" "I understand, Les, heart of mine. Friend," Chantel answered, hearing but not hearing. "slut needs to depend on me for a bit longer, until all these loose ends are tied up. Then she will depend on me, or whomever I deign to be in charge of her. Perhaps you, even. Listen." "Yes, Maitresse Chantel?" Leslie darted hungry eyes at slut, briefly. She couldn't help it. "We start with her nails....They must be long enough to be useless. And dangerous. 4 inch nails at least. Curve them. And yes, paint them brilliant red, with black letters saying something fitting, "Chantel looked off into the distance. "Let's see, in cursive, incompetent, incontinent, no. Hell, just scratch that. Put a smiley face on them or something. Surprise me. But make them strong." "Yes, of course." "Tattoo the make up now. Put the eyeliner thick, a lipliner thin, a tear on the other side, so they match. A bit of blush, not too much." Kimba scribbled notes, taking it down. Leslie nodded. henrietta hardly heard anything after 4 inch nails, but she was not worried. She thought, to be prettier in the sight of My Mistress, and serving. "Latex lined leather corselet, Les. You know the one. Sealed, tight, no give. You do know the one." Leslie's eyes rose up at this, but she said nothing. She knew the one, a bit of trimming and it would fit tight around slut's body, but it was fierce. She knew that personally, for she had worn it before, the very same one, at the bequest of Mistress Chantel. But Kimba said, "velly tight one? It looks good not?" "That one, slut Kimba, and it will look fine. I will thank you not to speak again." Kimba curtseyed, eyes down. "Les, back to the make up. Brilliant green and blue glitter. Heavy. I want the liner of one eye to go high, the other low. Just paint, mind you. You know how to do it," Chantel continued, ignoring Kimba totally. "Of course! I understand, Maitresse." "Good." Chantel paused again, thinking. "Now, her wig will be bleach blonde bobby cut. I want ragged fishnet gloves, no fingers. A little punk goes a long way. Other than that, Les, it's up to you. You are, after all, the expert." Leslie blushed visibly at the compliment. "You are too kind, Maitresse. I will personally shop for exactly what almost suits slut." "Excellent choice of words, hon. Have her ready in about three hours. And then close up shop. Tonight we party," Chantel glanced at Kimba. "And you can bring your pet too." "Thank you, Chantel. And you are going somewhere?" "None of your concern, Leslie, none of your concern right now at all. But the time will come, dear Les. The time will come," Chantel said ominously. "Tonight we party at the Cum Pit." Slut saw even that both Mistress Leslie and Mistress Kimba shuddered, so she shuddered too. Something was going on, but she didn't care. **** Desiree barked at the bars. She slid her plastic sandal across them. She screamed and others in the prison screamed back at her. "Let me the fuck out of here." "Let us the fuck out of here," they echoed. "You shut the fuck up, fuckers," Desiree screamed angrily, uselessly. "Fuck the shut up, you shutters," they said back in unison, laughing. In prison, any game is a good one, even if it's stupid. It passes the time. They're taunting me, she thought. Everyone is taunting me, using me. Always and always, but I won't say anything. Murder on my mind, but revenge first. Oh, Chantel, darling. I'm going to splash you on like perfume. Oh Henry, I'm going to eat you like a candy bar and spit you out like shit. Desiree knew she was teetering on insanity, but now, having been in this hellhole of jail for almost a week now, she was beginning to feel a clarified sense of purpose. It would start with showing Chantel that betrayal has no room in this world. It would continue with slut. Chantel would die, slowly, but slut would live painfully, and slowly. The world was full of assholes, and it was up to her to dom them, punish them, put them in their place. All of them. She trembled, throughout her body, almost feeling horny, as she thought about the things she was going to do to them. Just as soon as she got out. As if that thought were a cue, a nameless, faceless ugly prison guard broke her reverie by clanking keys into her cell gate. "What now?" She spat. She'd been let out three times. Once to be sentenced. The next had been a hearing for bail. That had been set at $250,000, and Desiree had made a scene, even trying to attack the judge for his stupidity, but the chains had prevented her from getting to him before the bailiff and officer in court had brought her down, while she screamed obscenities. The bail had been risen to half a million. The third time was after she had brutalized Sonya, her cell mate. That stupid bitch had actually tried to make nice with her. After talking a bit, in her stupid southern voice, Sonya had made a pass at her for some lonely lesbian loving. Big mistake. Desiree had smashed Sonya's pretty face into the stainless steel toilet repeatedly until she had been dragged away by guards alerted by the other prisoners. Sonya wasn't pretty anymore. During her third appearance before the same stupid fuckhead judge, the bail had been risen to 3 million. Now she glared at the guard warily opening her cell. "Bail has been posted, Ma'am." "Posted? By whom?" "Mike something or other, Ma'am. Now just be coming fine and calm and we can be friendly like." Mike, Henry's partner. Yes! Of Course! He couldn't take over the business with her in jail. With Henry decreed not sane, it fell to her to make good the sale, but that couldn't go through if she was in prison. She couldn't validate the sale. Nor will I, she thought, but that was for later. Now she had to change, back into her uniform, get out. Leather clad psycho-sadist in charge and reporting for duty. For the first time, her down turned lips lifted into what could have been a smile, but was more of a grimace. "Get my clothes, you turd. I don't look good in orange." *** Dianna felt confused. Slut had actually been nice once, and she had felt his eyes on her legs, behind, breasts. Then Desiree had locked her up, until she was let out to hear Chantel tell her that slut was a big bad meanie, and then Dianna had to be mean to slut, by orders of Desiree and Chantel. And then Chantel had disappeared and Desiree had gotten all mean and started hurting everyone with her meanness and mean smile. She hadn't wanted to almost kill slut, but she hadn't had any choice, and then Chantel had been rescuing slut and Dianna felt almost as if she were responsible for slut's pain. Then Desiree and Chantel and slut, and all of the guests and people had left. She had hidden in the basement for days, afraid. Now she felt all alone now in this big house with nobody in it. There had been reporters on the lawn like a flock of seagulls, and she had closed the blinds, locked the door. That was the sensible thing to do, she thought. Then she decided to clean house and change, back into her maids uniform, the one she used to wear. She found it in slut's kink pen. That room had astonished her. The videos were still playing and there were toys everywhere, so before she started work, she played a little. And a lot, and then some more. Watching slut on the television was incredibly sexy. As Dianna looked as slut in action, walking, crying, winching, receiving the pain which she, Dianna, had imposed on her, she felt sorry. Slut really wasn't, couldn't be that meanie of a meanie. Dianna knew that she wasn't the smartest tree in the ocean, but she knew that she was soft hearted, kind of, or just almost just loving. A stray thought hit her then, like a wind. Are nice people stupid? She tilted her head at that. The phone rang. Diana looked at it. It rang again. She dropped her duster. It rang a third time. She answered. In the beginning it had rang all the time, and she had ignored it, but now, this time, it seemed to ring different. "Hello?" "Dianna, good girl." "Chantel?" "Who else?" "Governe--- " "Shut up, Dianna, and listen." "Yes, Governess." "I said, shut up!. Now, you've been good to clean the house and not abandon your duties." Diana's mind ground slowly, trying to make sense of this, and didn't say anything. "It's time for some make up time, hon. Me and slut, and a couple of my friends will be by, in oh, say about an hour. Get dressed to the nines. We're going out. Time to party a little bit, and I won't take no for an answer." Dianna didn't say anything. She just held the phone to her ear. "Dianna?" Dianna trembled, but still didn't say anything. "Oh for God's sake! Dianna, you don't have to shut up anymore, you stupid brick. So answer me." "Yes, Governess Chantel. Thank you," Dianna curtsied to no one. "May I ask where we are going, Governess, so I can dress good?" "We're going to the Cum Pit, so I suggest plastic, or latex. It's a messy place. Be ready." "Thank you, Govern," she started to say, but the line clicked and she found herself staring at it. She had heard of the Cum Pit. But she had never been, nor wanted to go there. It was far too decadent. So she had heard, but to be with Chantel again, and maybe even to say sorry to slut...Besides, she couldn't say no. She didn't know how. And she was lonely. Chapter 3: The Cum Pit Slut looked resplendent. She could tell that even by herself. But it helped that she was getting looks from Ms. Leslie, Mistress Dianna and Ms. Kimba. Chantel seemed distracted, but pleased. She hadn't complimented her, but She had said to Ms. Leslie that She had done excellent. Slut wasn't comfortable, by any means imaginable. The ever present plug ground into her and vibrated, the leather corselet over was rib breaking, but she thought 'I love it!' Slut had been told, over and over, narrow waist, wide hips, big breasts. This makes a slut pleasing to see. Slut wasn't comfortable with the fine wine glass in her hand either. Upon a time, she had ridden in limousines, and drank good brandy while making a business deal or other, but now, she was a different person. Still though, she had to admit, this was luxury and adventure. Slut glowed. Ms. Leslie was wearing a tight latex bodysuit in black, her hair mussed high, with one eye painted white. Mistress Dianna was wearing a latex skirt and a plastic see through jacket in purple. Slut could see that her nipples were pierced. Ms. Kimba wore black. She could hardly be seen. And Mistress Chantel wore the same gossamer as before. But slut glowed. Her new wig, though blond, glowed in the dark. Her latex maids dress, pale yellow, glowed in the dark. Her crimson gloves glowed in the dark. Her boots, thigh high but with only 5" heels, glowed darkly, though they were black. She lit the room of the limo. "Leslie, hon, You did good with slut," Chantel said absently, sipping her wine while looking out of the window. "Thank you, Maitresse. I tried to make her look almost presentable." "Yes." Quiet remained for a time, and slut looked furtively through heavy lashes, at the others. Suddenly, it seemed, none felt comfortable. Ms. Dianna slurped her wine and then grabbed the bottle and began drinking it greedily. Ms. Kimba began to cry. Slut watched as Ms. Leslie opened a compact, drop some white onto its mirror and sniff and sneeze. They were afraid... Mistress Chantel glanced, saw, said nothing, and looked out of the window again. The limousine slowed. It stopped and the door was opened. Chantel stepped out, and slut and her Mistresses followed. Now there was noise. Neon waved at them. The Cum Pit. Smaller signs said things like "come in to cum." And "fuck my rabbit." "slut haven." slut wondered at that one. Things had gone weird. The building was brick and old and tall. A line of people, mostly men, but a few women as well waited to get in. "Remember this, Leslie?" Chantel said absently, as she cut through the line. "Y-yes, Ms. Chantel." "Ready to do it again, hon?" "Please don't make me. Please. It's too much, Ms. Chantel. Please." "Of course not, dear. But what about slut?" "Maitresse, I think it would break her sanity, so soon. If I may say so." "I think you are right. Better just to watch." Slut watched as Chantel cut a line to the bouncer. "No room, ma'am. You will have to get to the end of the line and wait your turn." "I am Chantel." The bouncer greened, blushed, and then opened the red gate. "Right away, Ma'am." Then he did a curtsey that almost made slut laugh. A big muscular bouncer doing a curtsey. They entered, Chantel leading, slut in the last of the line, hearing "why did she get in?" And the bouncer yelling back, "she owns this place, you shit. Wait your turn." Slut's eyes rose in fear. Again. She had somewhat overheard, but she had been more focused on minimizing the pain of her corselet. But that hadn't been possible. It was locked tight. She passed through the door. And entered a different world. The place was huge and crowded. Neon and strobe flashed through hazy smoke. Walls and half walls stood everywhere. They tilted angrily and awkwardly. The colors clashed in brilliant hues of red and blue and green and magenta; a purple wall there, a pink wall with slashes of green here. Balconies and boardwalks of steel mesh twisted up and around the high ceiling. Tables were set there, with fine white linen atop, and insane people around. This was a different world. Slut stumbled as she tried to take it all in, following her Mistresses and Chantel as they started up a set of stairs to the right. Off to the left, were transvestites, gleefully kissing each other with their penises exposed under their tight and brilliant colored clothes. Towards the other wall, was a mud pit, and slut could see that the people playing there, splashing mud at each other were genuine girls, girls that would look like hookers, but for that they were in multicolored mud. The stage behind them showed a leather masked person flailing a sissy piteously with a corded whip as the sissy writhed and bled and seemed to ask for more. Slut couldn't hear, for the music, if that was what it could be called, thrummed heavily, yet screechily through her ears. Her eyes looked to the center of the room, and darted away, and instead she focused on Ms. Dianna's ass as she followed her up the winding steps. A delicate thing of a person, dressed to the nines in heels and tuxedo mini-skirt bade them to a table that overlooked everything from on high. Chantel sat, eyes moving everywhere. Ms. Leslie and Ms. Kimba, holding each other tightly sat as well. Dianna stood there for a while, licking her lips. Chantel motioned to slut to take a seat across from her, next to the railing, far above what was happening below. "Welcome to the Cum Pit, henrietta. Take a look, hon, someday you will have to serve in there too. And you will, I promise, like it. You had better," Chantel glanced to the waitress, ordered wine and vodka. "Look well, hon." And slut did. From up here it was all so visible. From here, it was clear why this place was called the Cum Pit. Down below, almost just under her, in the center of the room was a recessed area. It was about six feet deep, with a stair step around it two feet higher, so a girl could suck cock standing up. Bars wrapped around the top. Ten feet long and five feet wide. The floor was covered with cum but under its glass, neon announced it at the Cum Pit. Men, so many men, stood behind the bars, their penises exposed and hard, stroking themselves, hungry. Inside the bars were three people. Slut couldn't be sure if they were men or women. They were so covered with cum. She focused in on one and then the next and the last. The first had been apparently been wearing red, but it was hard to tell now. She was laying down on the floor, looking dreamily weary, her stockings and clothes absorbing the semen. Slut was astonished; the semen and cum must be an inch deep! The second girl had clearly just entered, for her ballet boots and white wedding dress were almost clean. To slut's eyes, she was shaking in fear and anticipation The last girl held slut's attention the most. She was dressed in white and gray layers of come and wearing goggles so covered that it was clear she couldn't see through them. She was hungrily sucking one penis while stoking another. She looked emaciated. Slut looked over to Chantel. "Ms. Chantel, t-that girl, t-that one, the g-girl with the goggles...." "yes slut?, Chantel looked mildly amused. "She, I mean, she well, she looks like she had been er, there, for a long time... I think I mean, er, Ms. Chantel, how long has..." slut trailed off. Chantel barked off laughter that penetrated even through the cacophonic noise of the room. It was rich and clean and tainted with lust. "Oh, well, you must be looking at Coral. I opened this place about a year and a half ago. I put her there then." Slut's face fell in horror. "Ms. Chantel?" "Oh slut, I tried to get her out to wait tables or be useful, but she wouldn't leave. I had a couple of bouncers take her out a few months ago and clean her up, but as soon as they let her go, she scurried right back into the Pit." "Do, er, do they eat?" "Slut! What do you see? They are feeding right now! Coral gets plenty of food, I should put her on a diet even...Too much cum can make you fat, you know. There's a bucket in the corner for her to crap in, and a dog dish for her food. The staff feeds her apples, but she doesn't eat them unless they are, how do you say, spiced." Chantel sipped her wine, smiling at slut, bemused. "Ms. Chantel," slut said, watching as Coral took another man hungrily, sucking in and out, in and out, out and in of her mouth. "I don't want to go there." Flash like lightning, and slut was slapped rock hard. "You don't have a choice hon. Everyone goes in the Pit. Today is just not your day. It isn't your time yet. And you will never give me don'ts or won'ts again!. Do you understand?" "Yes, Ms. Chantel," slut said, crying. She hadn't meant to upset Ms. Chantel, but it was all so unreal. So much like the room that Ms. Chantel had set up for her in the place of hell, Desiree's house, but different and far more kinkier. "Leslie, would you like to go into the pit?" Leslie quailed, fading to pale. She sloped her back, but then straightened it. "Chantel, I've been. Kimba, though, has asked me to let her go. And," Leslie shot her eyes at the still standing transfixed Dianna,"I think Dianna would like it as much or more than Coral." Chantel nodded. "Well put. Kimba, take Dianna doorbricks to the pit and don't either of you come out until I say. And hon's, suck well. My clients pay for your services." Slut watched Kimba eyes dart happily even as she grabbed Dianna and tottered the steps and towards the Pit. The bouncer at the gate to the Pit looked up and Chantel waved absently, and let them in. Dianna looked confused, but Kimba went straight toward cock and was sucking happily in seconds. A man shot his load into her hair and slut saw her look briefly at him gratefully. Slut looked at Chantel, wishing she could be next to her, without the table between them, safe. This place was scary. Chantel looked back, eying slut. Evaluating. "not yet, Henrietta. It's ok. You are not ripe yet." The wine and vodka came. Chantel directed slut to drink the vodka. "Drink it all, the whole fucking bottle." Then she sipped her wine and looked about her masterpiece. **** The Cum Pit. My place of decadence that I built, Chantel thought. It comes and comes, but sometimes I wish I could go. She glanced at slut, her prettier than pretty slut. Why, oh why, do I like you, slut? I've taken hundreds of transvestites, and more than that of sissies and put them on their road to shame. Why do I care about you? She looked over at Coral, sucking another dick. Coral must suck five hundred dicks a day. I haven't fed her, bathed her, even clothed her beyond what I dressed her in the day I put her in the pit. Heels, stockings, corset and gloves. Always gloves. And now, Chantel thought, Coral is blind. Not because her goggles are so fucking covered with cum, not because her eyes can't see. It's because all she wants, all she wants is cum. Not money, not sex, not love, not comfort. Cum. She watched at Kimba began stroking herself while taking a man. She watched as Kimba came. She watched as Kimba tried to get out of the Cum Pit. The bouncer bashed her gently back into the Pit. When you go in, you don't get out. But Chantel knew that Kimba, like Leslie and slut, was a transvestite. Dianna, however, was not. And, it seemed, that Dianna had finally found her home. She had stripped off her dress, and was now only in stockings and heels and corset, sucking one cock and stroking another. The room sensed it and loads of cum came shooting at her from so many penises. She watched the men too. They came, and left to drink, and came back. The blond towhead man, the shaggy jerk, the guy in a tux. So many of them. Cum, drink and cum again. Chantel looked at slut. Her jaw was hanging open, trying to receive all of this vision. She thought, slut, is this hell or heaven? "Drink, slut." "Ms. Chantel?" "Drink. Drink the bottle." Chantel came to a decision...But it made no sense, just pushing buttons. "The whole bottle?" "slut, are you dim? Drink the whole bottle down and then go into the pit. Suck cock, like you have sucked. Take cum, like never before. And once you're satisfied, or I am, come back to me. One chance, slut." "Yes Ms. Chantel." "Leslie, lick my pussy." Leslie broke out of her reverie and said, "Thank you, Chantel." And then slut got upset. "It's mine. Her golden is mine." slut moved to hit Leslie. Chantel shot an arm out and grabbed slut's throat. "slut. Listen. I am mine. Leslie is mine. You are mine," Chantel glared at slut and repeated. "You are mine. Leslie, lick me and lick me bad." She spread her legs, and Leslie was there. Slut cried. And down below, the Cum Pit filled with cum. Dianna was going happy crazy with one dick in her face, another in her ass and one in her pussy. She had locked onto the bars by her knees and was hanging upside down. She had cocks in her hands. She thought: I'm not the smartest city in the village, but I can do the monkey, and laughed and laughed. And sucked. Kimba was more concentrated on giving expert pleasure and each man she took, cried also, for her giving of pleasure was so intense, it was painful. And slut cried, She drank more of the bottle, to numb things, Chantel watched slut eagerly, drinking the bottle. Soon hon, soon to the country. With meadows and flowers and stupid trees. Soon. But first the test, Because, and I don't know why, I love you.