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PAJAMA PARTY by Throne Peter was so happy that he had moved in with Mary. Her rented house, that he now helped to pay for, was small but comfortable. He loved to simply watch her chatting on her phone or reading e-mails on her laptop. Mary was so pretty, with her long blond hair, sweet face, and slender figure. He couldn't believe that they were living together. And they were learning how to accommodate each other. He had dated a few other girls but never been in a real relationship. The first thing he had learned was that she expected him to be cooperative and not disagree with her. That was a bit uncomfortable but he didn't want to cause any upset. After all, their love life was so promising and he felt confident it would soon develop even further. He was in the bedroom putting away the clothes he had run through the washer and dryer. Peter neatly hung up his shirts in the small closet that was his. He put her blouses on padded hangers and lined them up, arranging them by colors, in the larger closet which she had taken for herself. Then he put his socks and underwear into the top drawers of the small dresser against one wall. Finally, there were Mary's sleepwear and panties to go into the big dresser on the opposite side. He understood why she needed more space, because she had so much clothing. As he carefully folded her new baby doll nightie, the one in a color called pink champagne, he paused. That was what she had been wearing the night before last, when they had one of their foreplay sessions. She loved to get him naked first. He was somewhat sensitive about his body, short, slim and pale, with only the slightest amount of blond, almost invisible hair on it. But she liked him nude at those times, so he went along with it. For herself, she always wore something super sexy. Peter had no complaints about that. It got him highly aroused just seeing her in one of her many bedroom outfits, especially that short filmy nightie. Now he brought it to his cheek and rubbed it caressingly against the side of his face. As he did that, he felt his penis give a twitch. That reminded him of the other reason he was uneasy being naked with her, especially while the lights were on. Peter's privates were not nearly as large as he would have liked. When soft, his dick was just a nubbin, and his balls were of a size to match. Even when he got hard, his endowment only grew to four inches, with proportionately limited girth. He sometimes wondered if that was why his physical relation with Mary was progressing so slowly. The way things were now always left him frustrated. For instances, two nights ago. In bed they had kissed and hugged. She had run her hands up and down his body, spending time on his narrow chest to tease his sensitive nipples. That always got him squirming and mewling. When he tried to touch her, she allowed it but always with limits. Mary used words like 'gentlemanly' and 'respectful' to tell him how to act. In the several months they had shared living space, it seemed she was letting him do less rather than more. Lately she had him focused on her sleek shapely legs and soft petite feet. He sighed as he buried his face in the nightie. She had even used her mouth on his nipples, which made him crazy with desire. But when he tried to do the same to her, she gently pushed him downward, saying something about not rushing. It didn't make sense to him but, again, he didn't want to oppose her and risk losing what he already had. After all, as she liked to remind him jokingly, it wasn't probable that he could find someone else like her to love him. So he had responded to her signal and slid down along her desirable body, past the close- trimmed strip of hair on her pubic mound, to her warm thighs which he lavished with kisses. Mary had purred approvingly yet still urged him to go lower. He pressed his lips to her firm calves, relishing the contact. "Lover," she had whispered seductively. "Do my feet." That made him suppress a moan. He didn't want her to sense his disappointment. Instead, he did as she wished and curled up on his knees, at the bottom of the mattress. Peter lightly kneaded her feet, manipulating the toes and rubbing the soles with his thumbs. He heard her breath hiss between clenched teeth, the way he guessed it would if he was exciting her sexually. She often gave him subtle hints like that to encourage him to do more of what she wanted. He knew, from other recent visits to the bedroom, what else she had come to expect. Peter pressed his mouth to her arches, insteps, heels, and soles. He kissed each toe and even took them into his mouth, first individually and then together. All the while, despite his lack of attraction to what he was doing, he became more and more excited. Sometimes he felt like she was training him to respond to pampering her feet that way. At last he forced those memories from his mind, relinquished the nightie, folded it reverently and placed it in the proper drawer. From the top of the dresser he picked up some of her perfumes and cosmetics, one by one, opening them to inhale their scents. Those times in bed with Mary were delightful but always left him needing more. Like right now. His testicles were sore from all the stimulation with no release. He planned to do something about it this evening. She had been invited to a pajama party by her friend Madge. It was a silly excuse for several girlfriends to get together and have a sleepover, as if they were still in high school, and maybe even from an earlier generation. Peter would have the entire evening to himself. She wouldn't be home until the morning. He could get completely undressed, which he didn't mind doing if he was alone. Then he could stretch out on the bed and play with his penis. He found it shameful, to have to do it in secret, like a naughty boy, especially when he was living with such an irresistible girl. But so long as she maintained their love life at its current level, all build-up and no payoff, he had no other choice. Best of all, because he knew how much time alone he would have, he could pick a few of his favorite items from her intimate wardrobe to drape over his bare skin, and several of her scents from the dresser top to pass under his nose, all while he masturbated. Maybe he would even take the most recent pair of panties to be put into the laundry basket and wrap them around his modest-sized pecker while he tugged it. Peter thought about all that while he finished putting away the laundry. As Mary had pointed out, it made sense for him to do the wash because he worked from home on the computer. When she returned from her office job she didn't want to have to face dirty clothes. Or unwashed dishes. Or rugs that needed vacuuming. Or any of the other household jobs that Peter was now responsible for. She had a certain way of explaining everything that he found impossible to dispute, even when it sounded unfair. After the laundry was put away, he went to the kitchen and washed up his lunch dishes. He had just put the last item in the drainer when he heard Mary come through the front door. She looked fresh and unstressed, even after a full day at her job. As she stepped out of her heels he dutifully picked them up to put away on her shoe rack. "Would you like your slippers?" he asked. "No thanks. They're already packed in my overnight bag, for the party." "Okay." He hesitated and then added, "I could give you a foot rub." Mary smiled and came to him, taking Peter in her arms to give him a tender hug. "That's so sweet. I know how much you enjoy my feet..." She pressed her hips against him suggestively. "... in the bedroom." But then, with a light peck to his cheek, she stepped away. He said, "I guess you'll be eating at Madge's place, but if you'd like something light now, I could fix you a snack." "Oh," she responded, as if just remembering something. "I guess I should have called you. There's been a change of plans. I'm going to help an old friend who's feeling down. Needs some cheering up. I knew you wouldn't mind." "Well... I suppose not." "Terrific. I was sure you'd understand, and do whatever it took to support me." "Okay." "Great. Because my friend is coming here and we'll need time alone together." "Sure. I could go to the mall. Or maybe a movie." "No, I came up with something better. You can take my place at the pajama party. That way you won't have to be by yourself. And Madge thinks it'll be fun to have you substitute for me. You know, acting like you're one of the girls." She chuckled. "And I told her you're the kind of good sport who would go along with it, and not be a macho jerk or anything. You know how I hate guys like that, the big dumb jock type." "You mean...?" "Just that you can hang out with those cute girls. And wear my pajamas. Don't worry, they're just pajamas, not a nightie or anything. And you can come home tomorrow and tell me everything that happens. All the gossip." "I'm not sure..." he began weakly. She gave him a serious look. "Really? The one time I ask you for a favor?" Actually she had asked him for many favors, by his reckoning, all of which he had granted. Even so, with the way she had presented the situation, he saw no alternative. "Sorry," he said in a small voice. "I'll be happy to do it." "Well, if you're happy, show it. I don't want you being two-faced with me, saying you want this but not really meaning it." She raised her eyebrows and waited for his reaction. He made himself smile. "Sure. Definitely. I'm all in. Whatever you want. Or the other girls want, after I get there. I just needed a second to get used to the idea." "If you say so." Mary still didn't sound fully convinced. "I hope I don't get a bad report back from Madge." "No. Absolutely not. I'll... um... be a good boy." "I'll count on that." She relaxed visibly. "And you won't even have to pack. You can just take my bag the way it is." He felt like he should say something about that. Or point out that he didn't think Madge liked him. Maybe try once more to get himself out of this awkward situation. But the way she had presented it made him think that he was better off just going along with everything. After all, how bad could it be? Mary said, "I'll call Madge and tell her you'll be there at six, so you can help her get things ready." "I didn't think..." He wasn't sure if he should try to avoid added time with Madge. "It was just that I thought, if I stayed here a while we could maybe..." His words trailed off. "But that's not important. I'll, um, get your bag and put it by the front door." She pointed out that the bathroom could use a quick clean-up, and it would be nice if that was done before her friend arrived. Peter got busy and, by the time he was finished, he had decided to get an early start to Madge's. What he didn't intend to tell Mary was that he planned to make a few stops on the way. Maybe to the comic book shop. Or the juice bar to get a consoling drink. When he announced he was leaving and she saw his car keys in his hand, she put herself between him and the door. "You don't need to drive there," she said. "It's not far and you could use the exercise." She pressed her fingertip into his unmuscular abdomen. "So why don't you just walk?" "But... it's a couple miles. I think. More or less." "And?" "I was just..." He shrugged apologetically. "I can walk." He glanced at the bag waiting to be picked up. It was pink, with red carrying straps, and had a big rainbow emblazoned on it. "I was only..." Again he ran out of words. Mary stayed where she was, allowing him time to protest if he dared. But he surrendered without any more attempts at negotiation. He unhappily picked up the bag and she stepped out of his way. As he reached the door she leaned in to give him a chaste air kiss. His girlfriend said, "I know you'll have a fun time, Peter." He shifted his feet and tried to think of something to say. That was when, from the corner of his eye, he saw someone coming up the front walk. "Hey," Mary called out. "How are you, Flash?" Peter was stunned. What was that big guy doing here? He had been the star of the football team back when all of them had been in high school. And had always looked down on the smaller male student, literally and figuratively. Plus, he had dated Mary briefly in their senior year. "Yo," Flash called back to her. "I'm good, babe." He got right next to Peter, looked at the bag, and snorted derisively. Then he bumped against him, intentionally it appeared, and went inside. The confused young man on the front step looked back at his girlfriend questioningly. "What?" she said with a hint of irritation. "I said I had a friend coming over who needed some consoling. Flash is my friend. And he needs me right now. He just went through a break-up." She waited for Peter to react, her expression and body language impatient. "I understand," he told her. "I... uh... hope everything turns out okay. For Flash." Mary smiled slyly and assured Peter, "I'll do everything I can for him." Peter walked away, troubled and not looking forward to the evening ahead. He started toward Madge's place, a split level home she was housesitting, rent free, for a year while its wealthy owner was working outside the country. He dragged his feet dejectedly, head hanging and eyes downcast. About a block later he heard snickering and looked up. Two cute girls were approaching him, obviously noticing the unmanly piece of luggage he carried. He averted his gaze as they passed. From behind him one of them said, loud enough that he couldn't miss it, "Her shoes didn't match her bag." He cringed inwardly at the obvious mistake about his orientation. As he kept walking there were others who gave him curious looks. He couldn't stop thinking about how Mary had made him walk, the whole idea of being sent to a girls' pajama party, and most of all, Flash being the needy friend who she was comforting. To Peter, it was like he was sliding down a slippery slope. He resolved to get to the party, help Madge set up, reach the end of the night with as few complications as possible, and get back to Mary as soon as he could in the morning. When he reached his destination he went to the door with his shoulders back and his chin high. He could do this. "Well, well, well," Madge said, after she opened the door and eyed him up and down. "You look like a salesman with a sample case full of sissy products. But as long as you're here, I can use an extra set of hands getting ready, like Mary suggested." She looked similar to his girlfriend, except a bit taller, with darker hair and a slightly fuller figure. "First, though, let's get you dressed up to fit in with the rest of us." "Honestly," he said, trying to sound reasonable, "that part's hardly necessary. I mean, I can just be a guy who happens to be at your get- together." "Aren't you taking Mary's place?" "Well, yeah, but..." "And don't you have what she was going to wear inside that pretty bag?" "Sure. I'm just suggesting..." "You're just suggesting that you ARE going to go along with being Mary's stand-in, and helping everyone have a good time, and --" She paused portentously. "-- not giving me a lot of backtalk. True?" "I..." This was as tricky as talking to Mary herself. His shoulders sagged. "Yes, Madge. I'll do whatever you say." "Promise?" "I promise." "That's better. And don't be a promise breaker. I wouldn't like that. Now let's see what you have in that colorful bag." Peter set it on the sofa and opened it to find out what his girlfriend had packed for herself. It turned out to be a pair of pajamas with short sleeves and legs. The top ended at the bottom of his ribs and had three buttons up the front. The garments were pale yellow with cartoon animals all over them. He had never seen Mary wear them. Maybe they were something she had gotten just for this occasion. With Madge standing there, eyeing him critically, he felt obligated to get undressed. To try to avoid being watched, he said, "You don't have to stay if you don't want to." She shrugged. "I've seen plenty of guys naked. Just like Mary has." That stung. It was as if Madge was saying she had plenty to compare him to. And implying that Mary had the same. As much as he didn't want to reveal his unmanly physique and lack of body hair, he was much more reluctant to expose his immature privates. Even so, it was obvious she wasn't going anywhere. He unhappily got out of his clothes and stood there in just his jockey shorts, a powder blue pair Mary had insisted on buying him. Peter held his legs together in a reflexive but futile attempt at modesty. Madge pointed to his shorts and made a downward gesture. Blushing hotly, he lowered them. When he reached for the pajamas she halted him. "No hurry, sweet stuff," she said with a taunting smile. "Let's have a good look at you. Come on. Move those feet apart." When he obeyed, she chuckled. "Whoa. When they were giving out cocks and balls, you must have been the last one in line. I mean, there's hardly anything there." "Please," he whispered urgently. "Can't I cover up?" "In a minute. And since you're going to be dressed girly and trying to blend in, keep your voice soft and high. Let's hear how you do it. Say something like -- 'Ohhh, I'm so glad I got invited. Would you please make my face pretty, Madge darling?' I'm listening." His lips were quivering and he just wanted to run away. But being naked made him feel powerless. He softened his voice and pitched it higher. Sounding like a giddy teenager, he said, "Oh, gee, I'm so tickled I got invited. Could you please... make my face pretty... Madge dearest?" He even found himself moving his hands around in a feminine way. "Well," said his tormentor. "Because you asked so nicely, hop into those PJs and we'll go to my bedroom, where I have lots of lovely cosmetics." Peter was happy to cover himself up, even though he would have preferred doing it with something other than that girly sleepwear. Still, it did feel nice against his skin, and Mary must have sprayed it lightly with perfume. He recognized the scent as one he had enjoyed on occasion while he was handling his penis. Madge fussed with the scalloped collar of the top, as well as the rear of the bottom half. Peter tried not to fidget as she next smoothed down the fabric, again making him aware of the touch of its softness. His penis tingled. Finally satisfied, Madge led him to her bedroom. It was strangely erotic to be in such an intimate setting with someone other than his girlfriend. At the same time, wearing what he had on made it seem weirdly wrong. "All right," Madge said, gesturing for him to sit at her dresser, where there was a cut-out in the piece of furniture and a chair in front of that. There was a narrow shelf in the recess. Above the shelf was a mirror. He sat gingerly, aware that he was being ladylike without trying. She went on, "Let's give your face and hair a look to go with those cute jammies." Brushing his hair, she worked in some product to hold it in place. He inhaled the mildly floral scent of whatever she had used. "Your brows are barely there. Let's fix that." She applied light brown gel with a flocked brush, working carefully, and followed that by combing and blending with a spoolie brush. Madge stepped back, creased her brow a moment, and decided, "Good. That really calls attention to your blue eyes. But let's try some turquoise shadow, too. Plus some liner. And not too much mascara." All this time Peter could see his metamorphosis taking place in the mirror opposite him. His hair looked fuller and his face was dramatically altered. It was disturbing to watch his masculine appearance being gradually replaced. "Time for the most important part," Madge announced. "Your mouth. Pucker up, buttercup." She selected a bright red lipstick with a matte finish and applied it artfully. Then she said, "Show me a kissy face, dear." When he obeyed, she laughed with glee. Finally, she used rouge lightly on his cheeks, before declaring, "All done, Peter. Except you don't look like a Peter anymore. Do you?" Gazing at his reflection, his sense of self slipping away, he nodded. In a small unmanly voice he agreed, "No, I don't look like... me." "So what shall I call you? Maybe it could be... Petula. Or Petunia. Or just Pet. Oh, I like that. Sort of like 'house pet'. Does that work for you?" He gazed into the mirror. If only he could see his face unadorned again. And change back into his male clothes. But those weren't options. In that same meek voice he surrendered and said, "Yes, Madge. I can be... Pet." She sprayed flowery perfume in the air around him and let it settle on his skin and brief outfit. Then she tickled his ear. "That's my sweet thing. Now you sit tight while I slip into my sleepover outfit." Madge boldly undressed right behind him, showing off her shapely figure in the mirror. Was it his imagination or was she making a special effort to accentuate her round breasts, with their perfectly centered nipples? Peter sat there gaping at her while she stepped into the short ruffled pettipants of her outfit and the matching pink top, which tied loosely in front and ended high enough to leave her tummy bare. He felt like a peeping Tom. She donned high heel sandals with ankle straps and struck a few sexy poses, which added to his distraction. He tried not to ogle her attractive footwear. Seeing that he was thoroughly flustered, she said, "So how about if the two of us finish cleaning before the rest of the girls get here?" There was cleaning to be done, but it was Peter who did it, with Madge occasionally finding fault and making him repeat some of his work. He used a feather duster and a polishing cloth. After that it was a spray bottle and sponge on the baseboards, which didn't appear to be dirty. As his skin warmed up the scent of his cosmetics and perfume grew stronger. It was like when he sniffed Mary's make-up products. There was a sensation of invisible fingers touching his small dick. At last Madge declared his work finished, though she said that if there had been more time, he could have done the bathrooms too. She informed him, "Mary told me you're a great little housecleaner. I'll make sure to let her know how well you did... despite a few mess- ups." Her eyes lit and she told him, "I hear a car pulling up out front. Bet that's the rest of my guests. You can peek outside and, if it's them, greet everyone at the door." He hurried to the living room and inched the curtains aside. Sure enough, there was a car out front with three young women exiting it as he watched. They were all wearing long coats, he observed as they came up the front walk. Peter went to the door and opened it slightly. As they got to it he opened it further, keeping himself mostly hidden. The first girl stepped inside, took him by the upper arm, and moved him front and center to give the other two a good view. Unfortunately for him, anyone outside could also see him framed in the doorway. In fact, as he stood there trembling with embarrassment, a car drove by. The guy behind the wheel slowed down and looked directly at him. Peter realized that the watcher would most likely assume he was seeing a barely dressed girl. The new arrivals all came inside and Peter was relieved to close the door behind them. Speaking in his wispy voice to keep Madge happy, he offered to take their coats. As he accepted the first two and draped them over his slim arm, he was shocked to see that underneath they had already been wearing their sleep clothes. Each of them introduced herself as her bed wear was revealed. "I'm Beryl," said the first, who had on a baby doll nightie, stockings, and high heel slippers. "My name is Carnie," the second told him, standing there in a brief nightshirt that barely covered the juncture of her legs. The single garment had a stylized, mid-century modern kitten on it, and was accompanied by fuzzy kitty slippers. She put a pair of cat ears on her head to complete the look. The last one teasingly held her coat closed for a moment while he stood there awkwardly. At last she turned and let him slip it off her shoulders to put atop the others. "You can call me Dara," she said and licked her lips suggestively. All she wore was a pair of thong panties and a cotton top like Peter's, except that the second item had been cut so short that the bottom halves of her breasts peeked out. Her feet were in ballet slippers. She saw him goggling at how uncovered she was and turned around so he could see that most of her bottom was exposed. Then she faced him again and said, "If you're going to stare at me, it's only fair that I be able to do the same to you. Isn't that true?" He was unable to speak. Madge sighed loudly and went to him. She promptly began unbuttoning his top. Then she tugged lightly on the waistband of his bottoms and pointed toward the floor, signaling what she expected him to do. He stood there, nervous and indecisive. Dara stepped up close to him and put her hands on his chest, under the top. Her fingers found his nipples and teased them. He gasped. Beryl and Dara also closed in. One lightly ruffled his hair while the other felt his bottom through its single layer of covering. He twisted around but there was no escape route. With unsteady hands he took hold of his shorts and began to lower them. Once they were halfway down he let go and they dropped to his ankles. Dara took his unbuttoned top and pulled it back, so that the short sleeves were on his upper arms, pinning them back. When he started trying to shrug it up to its original position she stopped him with a warning finger, tapping him on the nose and shaking her head. Peter had to stand there while all four girls examined him and ran their fingertips over his pale skin. In spite of himself he got an erection. His laughably small dick poked out at the females. That set off giggles and caused them to move their hands to that area, almost but not quite touching him there. Carnie even caught his sparse pubic hair between her fingers and gave it a playful tug. He whimpered and shifted his feet. Madge decided, "You really should walk around so we can see you move." The others muttered agreement. He said helplessly, "May I at least pull up my pajama bottoms?" "No," she told him. "You can just shuffle along like that." As they snickered at him he decided that Madge honestly didn't like him, and the others felt the same. Peter began to slide his feet along, hampered by the lower half of his PJs, and arms still stuck in their disabling position. He felt totally vulnerable as the girls spread out and made him go from one of them to the other. They found seats around the room and relaxed while he made a fool of himself. Madge told them she had rechristened him Pet. That was when the comments he had been dreading began. "So, Petty Pet, what's that between your legs? It looks like a cock, only smaller." "Yeah, a lot smaller." "I can't believe you have a girlfriend. What good is that tiny thing to her?" "It looks like you sprouted an extra finger. A pinky finger." All of that was accompanied by derisive laughter. His cheeks grew warm with shame. At the same time, his stiff penis stayed up, a constant embarrassment as he went from girl to girl. Madge said to everyone, "How about that stiffy? It looks like Pet enjoys being in girly pajamas. And having her hair all fluffed up. Plus getting her face made so pretty. Isn't that right, Pet?" "I... I'm..." Peter fought to regain control of his voice. "It's just that you're all so... attractive. And you were touching me. And... and..." "Oh, come on," Madge insisted. "I can spot a sissy when I see one. How long have you been secretly playing dress-up?" Desperate to convince her otherwise, already upset, and not having thought out his defense, he blurted, "I don't wear girls' clothes. I just like to feel Mary's things on top of me while I'm... when I..." Oh no. He had said way too much. "When you play with your miniature dick?" Madge asked with a devilish expression on her face. "Are you sure you don't prance around in her panties?" "No." It was barely a whisper. He looked downward but, unfortunately for him that put his gaze on their feet. After all the time Mary had made him spend focused on her pedal extremities, what he was eyeing gave him a sexual rush. He went on, "I just touch her panties. And nighties. And inhale..." He stopped himself. But Madge wouldn't let him hold back any details. "And what?" "I like to smell her perfumes," he confessed ashamedly. "And cosmetics." Relishing his admission, Madge said, "You certainly are one perverted little freak. Aren't you, Pet?" "I... guess so." Beryl got back up and went to him. She squatted down, raised the hem of her filmy nightie, and rubbed it tantalizingly across his small penis. "Is this the kind of sensation you like?" Carnie joined her, took off one of her fuzzy slippers, and used it to tease his sensitized nipples. "And how about this? Does this get your kink going?" Peter began huffing and puffing. He closed his eyes, trying to block out the sight of their amused and gloating faces. Madge intuited something else. She inquired, "Pet, dear. You're definitely reacting to Carnie's kitty slipper. And I saw you eyeing my feet a few seconds ago. Do you maybe have a special interest in what we wear on our feet? Hmmm? And even our toes... and soles... and heels?" He moaned from mortification. But as deeply as he was under their spell, he couldn't deny the truth. With a groan he admitted, "Yes, Madge. Mary makes me give her foot rubs and... tongue baths there, too. It sort of... kind of... gets me excited." "Ohhh." She extended one leg. "So get your pansy ass over here and demonstrate how you pamper Mary's tootsies." Peter sobbed. Dara pulled up his pajama top so he would be able to use his hands. But Carnie stepped on his pajama bottom so it went the rest of the way down. At Beryl's urging, he stepped out of it and went to Madge naked from the waist down, his tiny dick leaking clear fluid. Half in a trance, his eyes on Madge's now bare feet, Peter sank down worshipfully before her. He fought to control his hands as he lightly touched her sandals. With difficulty he undid their undersized buckles, then reverently removed them from her soft flawless feet. He bowed his head and, with his erection straining harder than ever, put his hands on the tops of her feet and delicately began to rub her insteps with his thumbs. "Look at the sick sissy," Dara said with a chuckle. "She's fondling those feet the way a normal guy would play with a pair of boobs." "Hey." Beryl sounded inspired. "If Pet plays with her itty bitty dingus at home, while she's thinking about feet, just think how much more she'd enjoy it while she's touching the real thing." "Right." Carnie saw what she was getting at. "So the wuss can play with herself now and it'll be twice as good for her." "Plus," Dara offered, sounding sinister, "she'll probably get a special kick out of having us watch her while she tugs. Come on, Pet, tug that shrimp dick for us. Tug it." She began to chant. "Tug it. Tug it." The others joined in. "Tug it. Tug it." Peter sniffled. This couldn't be happening. He was utterly disgraced. Looking like a twisted sissy. Unable to control his arousal. And to his absolute shame, wanting to masturbate, despite the girls' presence... or maybe because of it. He wasn't sure of anything at that moment. With their words tormenting him, that phrase repeated over and over, his hand drifted toward his crotch. He voiced a final whimper of humiliation, took hold of his undersized penis, and began to stroke. The onlookers stopped chanting. They clapped. Madge wiggled her toes and he dipped his head down to capture those tender digits in his mouth. Hating himself for what he was doing but unable to stop, he sucked and stroked, sucked and stroked. Dara put herself alongside him on her knees. She got her head next to his and whispered, but with enough volume for everyone to hear, "You really are a princess, aren't you, Pet? Hmm? Our wimpy pajama princess? Getting your jollies by whacking off in front of us. While you're dressed in girl's PJs. With your hair styled. And your face decorated with eye shadow and lipstick and all those yummy products you like to sniff. Here, Pet. Let me give your nipples a diddle to help you along." "No," he gasped between licks to Madge's soles. "Please. I don't want to finish in front of you. On the floor." "We can fix that, baby. At least the part about you squirting on the carpet." She said, "Carnie honey, would you help me out of my thong?" As the other girl got the minimal garment over Dara's hips and thighs, Dara went on, "Oh, Pet. That naughty Carnie is touching me. On purpose. I hope that doesn't add to your excitement. Can you keep control of your urges just a wee bit longer?" Dara adjusted her lower legs one at a time so Carnie would finish removing the thong and hand it to her. Dara held it under Peter's nose and said softly, "Now don't smell this, honey. Don't breath in the scent of my pussy. That will make it even more difficult for you to keep your spunk inside your little balls." She snickered. "So just take this glorified G-string and wrap it around that Vienna sausage you have instead of a cock, your pink party wiener, and it can catch all your icky wet cream. That-a- girl. Get it where you need it right away, because I can tell you're not going to last much longer. Got it there now?" "Unh. Yes. But please, I still don't want to... to..." "To shoot your load? You'd rather leave here with a set of blue balls?" "No, I really want to ejaculate. But not like this." "Even if you get to feel me playing with your bubbies?" She fingered one of his nipples and then the other. "They're so receptive. Just like a girl's." "I (huff) don't have (puff) bubbies. I'm not like a -- oh no! -- girl. Please stop." "But you haven't stopped playing with that sissy stick between your legs. You don't want to stop. You can't make yourself stop. And when I give this nipple a few gentle tweaks... like this... you might just..." "OH! I'm..." He groaned and his hips jerked. Everyone knew he was finishing into the thong and they all laughed and applauded. He got his mouth back over Madge's toes and sucked hard to keep from crying out. After a minute his body relaxed. His unmanly shoulders sagged. Peter took his mouth of her foot. He sniffled. "I didn't mean to..." he protested, barely audible. "And yet you did, you dirty sissy pervert," Madge proclaimed. "And for that you have to be punished." "But you made me do it. This isn't fair." "Plus, for giving us backtalk, you'll get some added discipline." "And I don't want my thong back," Dara decided. "I'll take Pet's pajama bottom and she can wear my rather sticky thong. Eww." Sobbing, still holding the soiled piece of cloth over his flaccid penis, Peter got to his feet in stages. Once he was upright they made him wipe himself with a clean part of the thong and then step into it. He had to work it up his bare legs and snug it into place. His own semen, still warm, got all over his privates. The girls chortled at his discomfort and shame. He shed a few tears and his eye liner -- Madge had intentionally used some cheap stuff she had gotten at a dollar store -- ran down his flushed cheeks. The back of the thong was pulled up between his buttocks and left them entirely bare. Beryl said, "I've got an idea for beginning Pet's punishment, and I know just the items we need to do it with." She started out of the room but then turned back and said, "Get the Nancy-boy kneeling on that wooden chair with her pretty white butt sticking out." The others directed Peter to put the requested chair in the center of the room and kneel on its seat. The back of the piece of furniture was like a ladder and by sticking his knees and head between the crosspieces he could get himself well positioned, so that the chair wouldn't tip over if he jerked around. His head was sticking out on the other side. They had him wrap his arms around the uprights and hold onto them higher up. Carnie went and stood in front of his face. She pulled the bottom of her short nightshirt over his head, so that his lower face was against her pubic hair. "Oh my," she said in mock surprise. "This naughty girl is rubbing her nose in my bush. And I think she's trying to kiss my girly parts. Pet must be some sort of lesbian." Beryl returned, holding a wooden kitchen spoon in one hand and a solid metal spatula in the other. She feigned outrage and exclaimed, "Pet is a male lesbian? That is totally twisted. She just keeps earning more and more discipline. But let's start with..." She swung each Implement through the air in turn. "... with the spatula." Handing the large spoon to Dara, she positioned herself behind and to the side of Peter's protruding posterior. "Just let me get my range." She made a show of judging the correct distance and angle. "And then I can..." Her arm came back. "Do this just... RIGHT." With that she swung hard and the flat metal surface smacked loudly against Peter's unprotected flesh. He yelped and gripped the chair hard. Beryl grinned as she rapidly brought the number of strokes up to ten. With each one he shoved his face against Carnie. By that time the blows stopped, Peter was wailing, his nose running, and his burning eyes threatening to overflow again. His backside was turning red on both sides. His tormentor stepped aside and gestured for Dara to take a turn. The second girl gladly moved in, spoon raised, and immediately began thrashing their victim. Peter howled against Carnie's body and tried to plead for mercy, though he couldn't form coherent words. Instead he began to drool a little as the wide uniform marks of the spatula were overlaid by the more random and irregular ones left by the spoon. The two girls took turns and, when they had each worked on him three times, his bottom was bright red and slightly swollen, his make-up in disrepair. Madge got up and approached him. Carnie retreated, leaving his tear streaked face visible once more. From being under her nightshirt, his hair was flattened and disarranged. He looked a wreck and couldn't stop weeping. Madge squatted down to chuck him under the chin. "Save some of those tears, Pet. You still have more punishment to go. I think now we should move you to my bedroom. I have some sex toys that will be just perfect for a perversion princess like you. So off the chair, Miss Rosy Cheeks. Move it, girl, if you don't want to get yourself into even more trouble." "No," he said, breathing hard. "I'll behave." "Will you? I have a suspicion that you've been manipulating everyone all along. Getting me to help you look like a wicked girl and all of us to treat you mean. Why? Because those are games you like to play. So maybe we should just go along with your clever plans and give you more of what you really desire. Maybe even try to give you an overload, if that's possible with your type." "Please don't. I honestly didn't want any of this. It's just that my girlfriend Mary... she had to... wasn't able to..." His words trialed off as he realized how foolhardy it was to try to talk his way out of this fix. Instead he just stood there, hair and face ruined, still in that unwanted pajama top, the gooey thong holding his immature genitals, its back vanished between his sore discolored cheeks. Madge took him by the ear and marched him, like a naughty schoolchild, to her room, with the others cheerily following. Once they were there, Madge had him kneel in the center of the mattress, sitting back on his haunches. The remaining three females sat around him. Madge went to her dresser and retrieved several bedroom playthings from the bottom drawer. She said, "Hands behind your back, sweetie. I know you're going to love this." As he obeyed, too beaten down to do otherwise, he felt something being fastened around his wrists. When he tried to move his hands apart they stayed where they were. His wrists had been bound and, judging from the soft tickling feel, it was with fur-lined handcuffs. Beryl moved in and picked up another of the recreational sex devices. She said, "I know what this is." Suddenly there was a buzzing very close to Peter's ear. She moved the object into his line of sight. "Know what this is?" He eyed the eight inch rod with a bulbous head. "It's, um, err, a vibrator." "Right, Pet. And part of your punishment is going to be..." She lifted the front of his short pajama top and set the tip of the phallic device against his nipple. "... lots of teasing." Peter took a shocked breath. The sensation was wildly stimulating. Even though he had just finished, he felt sexual desire coursing through him. Beryl switched to his other nipple and got him even more worked up. Carnie too found something she wanted to try. She held it in front of his face. "Gee, Pet. I've never seen one of these before." Peering at the fat rubber stopper she wondered out loud, "Is it something a plumber would use? Or maybe it goes in the tailpipe of a car? Or could it be for... up your ass? Is it a butt plug?" His voice trembled as he agreed, "Yes, that's what it is." "And you want me to use it on you. Right?" Beryl gave his nipples another round of vibrations. Madge was watching him with malice. He felt helpless and threatened. It would be safer just to agree. "That's it," he said breathily. "I... want you... to use that... on me." "Well then," Carnie decided, "you'd better get it as wet as you can if you want me to be able to stuff it into you." She pressed it against his parted lips. "Unless you want me to try while it's still dry." "No, no," he said desperately. His tongue came out and gave it an experimental lick. He tasted rubber. As if reading his thoughts, Madge offered, "Don't worry, Pet. I cleaned it after the last time it was used." As he took the end into his mouth she added, "At least I think I did." Carnie forced more of it past his teeth, stretching his jaws. He got saliva all over the widening length before she popped it out of his mouth. The smiling girl got behind him, pushed Peter forward so the side of his face was on the pillow and his tail end was in the air. She pulled aside the back of his thong, got the narrowest part of the plug against his rosebud, and gave a powerful push. He groaned loudly as she stretched him. The widest part entered his body and his nether ring contracted around the smaller part behind that. It was in and there was no way for him to eject it. Beryl moved in and placed the vibrator against the protruding portion. He felt the results internally and gasped at how arousing it was. "Gee," Dara said. "I don't want Pet to be upset with me because I didn't join in. After all, she must be in sissy heaven with you two paying so much attention to her. And being so nasty. How about if I use... this!" Everyone laughed. Peter was dreading what she might have picked. Perhaps a riding crop. Or some cruel contraption to hurt is testicles. Maybe a thick needle to pierce his septum so they could make him wear a heavy nose ring. His mind was in a panic, racing from one horrid possibility to another. This would be the most fiendish of all the implements. "It's a feather duster," Dara informed him as she used it under his chin. "So we can get you even more heated up." She ran it over his ears and neck, caressing the skin with tantalizing lightness. "Until you don't know if you're going or coming." The feathers were suddenly on the backs of his vulnerable thighs. The three of them continued the sweet torment. His bottom still burned and his shame was at an all time high. The way they were playing on his nerve endings felt so good. Pain and mortification and pleasure were getting confused with each other in his mind. Madge sat on the side of the bed, close to his head. She put her arms around his neck and snuggled against him, her barely covered breasts warmly touching the side of his face. Her fingers trailed over his bare arms to diddle the palms of his incapacitated hands. She blew into his ear and even nibbled on the lobe. He couldn't stop squirming under the slow motion assault on his libido. Just as he was being overcome by ecstasy, something changed. Maybe Madge had signaled the others, perhaps with a broad wink. Peter didn't know. But suddenly fingers were tweaking his sensitized nipples. A hand was jerking on the butt plug, not hard enough to remove it, but with just the right force to cause plenty of discomfort. Fingernails raked lightly over his receptive limbs. Someone applied mounting pressure to his scrotum, making him whimper loudly. This second phase of his treatment went on and on, occasionally changing back to the more welcome first part, keep him guessing about what came next, not allowing him to separate the two, increasingly wound together strands. "He's really enjoying it," Madge observed. "His little willy is getting stiff again. And I know exactly what he needs to make this the most fun he's ever had." She got up on the bed and squeezed between his face and the headboard. Her pussy was inches from his mouth, covered by those ruffled pettipants. He couldn't avoid inhaling her faint but unmistakable feminine musk. Was she going to make him her oral sex slave? His heart beat faster with a jumbled mix of emotions. But two of the other girls got hold of him and dragged him backward. Madge swung her feet inward so that they were on either side of his face. She wiggled her toes against his cheeks. His penis tingled. He wished it hadn't gotten hard. She caught his face between her soles and rocked his head side to side. Finally she adjusted her feet so that she had her toes right in front of his mouth. He sniffled and blinked and, without consciously intending to do it, began kissing those available digits. Soon he was flicking them with his tongue. Before much longer he was sucking, probing between them, kissing everywhere he could reach. Madge said smugly, "Our twisted girl is such a foot freak. Ewww. Hope I'm not too sweaty down there." Despite her taunts, Peter continued, unable to control himself. The other girls had stopped their activities when he started worshipping those toes and soles, but now they resumed. Sex toys and nimble fingers concentrated on his erogenous zones, but went everywhere else too. He was kept in a state of heightened arousal but this time, with his hands cuffed, couldn't finish himself. When they at last ceased their playful/painful ministrations it was midnight. He was frazzled, tired, but physically in need. Madge decided that he should be uncuffed and do some chores to settle him down, and that she and her three friends could keep an eye on him -- "Don't want the little squirt making himself squirt again" -- all night long. They would work in shifts because, even though he wouldn't be allowed a wink of sleep, they needed their rest. His long night's journey to daylight began with Madge supervising him while he hand laundered her panties. She must have been behind on her laundry, as there were a week's worth of fragrant undergarments. To make his efforts more difficult, she decided he should clean the crotches first... with his mouth. Then he had to finish them in a dishpan full of warm soapy water. He also had to do more of her dainty underthings, along with stockings and some lace-topped anklets. Next up was Beryl, who had him cleaning the bathroom with a toothbrush that had already been discarded in the trashcan. He had to get down on hands and knees with his bright pink bottom exposed to do the spaces between floor tiles. Then he was tasked with cleaning the toilet bowl, including the tricky area under the rim. When all that was done he found himself being directed by Carnie. She had him washing the dishes. That might not have been too bad, except that there was a sink full, more on the counter, and pots and pans covering the stovetop. It was like they had been saving them up for him. He had to don yellow rubber gloves and get to work. Carnie stood behind him, patting his bottom and consoling him for how badly it had been spanked. But then she started to find fault with his efforts and began pinching his butt cheeks. As time passed she used more pressure. Then she would take the flesh between her thumb and forefinger and give it a hard twist. When he was at long last done his backside was suffering from a much deeper pain than before, and it was time for the final girl to take over. Dara slipped into Madge's bedroom to get four pairs of boots. Saddle brown riding boots. Oxblood wide-calf ones. A pair in sleek black with pointy toes and stiletto heels. And others in matte black with square toes and chunky heels. She lined them up and handed him a chamois shoe cloth. Then she sat on the sofa. "These need a good buffing," she told him. When he tried to start the job, she halted him with an upraised hand. "Let's make this easier for you. Pick a pair to start with and put them on me." Peter was overcome with fresh arousal as he took the riding boots, delicately removed her ballet slippers, and worked the leather footwear onto her feet and lower legs. Just touching it was getting him excited. He tried to control his breathing as he took the cloth and began to brush it over what covered her calves. He was unable to contain a sigh of need. She smirked down at him. His penis was soon standing up, pressing out against the front of the damp,sticky thong. Dara effortlessly shamed him by giggling, comparing his endowment to a breakfast link sausage, and asking him if he had ever made his girlfriend climax with that little thing. He told her haltingly, "We... we're not... up to that... stage in our relationship yet." "She's keeping you chaste? Ha! And after the way she always played he field. Too bad for you, Little Miss Sissy Dick." The cruel girl kept him going until he was on the last pair, those dark ones with the dull finish and blocky heels. She gave him permission to hump one of them while she wore it. He wasn't sure he wanted to do that. It would be mortifying. At the same time, he had an undeniable urge to take advantage of the offer. His girlfriend's training was yielding powerful results. He inched forward on his knees and got his covered penis against the leather. Holding onto the back of Dara's leg, below the knee, his hands on the smooth leather, he began to move his hips. The underside of his little dick was pressed tight to the front of the boot. It felt wonderful. And he was inhaling the distinctive scent of leather. He moaned and let his head hang down, eyes closed, as he sank ever deeper into the spell cast by that footwear. He lowered one hand to the stacked heel and gripped it for better control. He was abruptly wrenched out of his trance as he heard the soft laughter of several women. When Peter opened his eyes he found the other three females had awakened and were standing there, watching him disgrace himself by hunching against the boot over and over. He was so startled that he let go, tried to back up, and toppled over. The shamefaced young man lay on his back, tiny erection pointing straight up. His lips quivered as he fought back tears. "That is just too funny," Madge declared. "But it's time to send you home to your loving girlfriend. Ups-a-daisy, Pet. Your bag is all zipped shut and ready for you to take." "B... but," he managed to say, "I can't go outside looking like this." "You're right," she conceded. "I'll find something for you to cover up with." He let out a long breath, relieved that at least he wouldn't have to suffer the added indignity of walking home half naked. Peter imagined himself running from one spot of cover to another the entire way. His momentary relief ended when she went to the corner closet and returned with what he would be wearing. It was a short jacket of faux leopard skin, with a fake leather collar and big gold buttons down the front and on the cuffs. He looked at her pleadingly but she just held it out to him. As bad as it was, the brief covering was better than nothing. He accepted it and put it on. In back it reached to the bottom of his buttocks -- almost. In front it allowed the bottom of that thong to peek out. He tugged down on the inadequate garment for what would be the first of many times. "Off you go," Madge told him. "I'll call Mary and let her know you're rushing back to her loving arms." She pushed the pink bag against his unimpressive chest and he held it there with both hands. That was right, what she's said about Mary. At least once he got back to her place his ordeal would be over. He tried to hold onto that thought while he started his long walk of shame. As the blocks passed he tried to ignore the stares of early morning runners, people hurrying off to work, and drivers who slowed down to gape at him. He resembled a hooker after an especially tough night. After what seemed like hours, he was finally at Mary's door. Now they could just go back to living together. Maybe their relationship could even move forward to a point where they would have intercourse. At the moment, however, he mostly just wanted to be inside. Of course he didn't have a key. Peter knocked lightly, hoping he wouldn't disturb her. He was stunned when the door was flung open and there, wearing nothing but jockey shorts, stood Flash. "What the f*@k do you want, twerp?" Mary appeared behind the tall guy. All she had on was a filmy baby doll nightie and matching panties. The champagne pink set. She said, "You have some nerve, Peter. Or should I say 'Pet'?" "Please," the nervous boyfriend said in a loud whisper. "Let me inside. I can't stay out here like this." Flash asked angrily, "Are you giving us orders? Are you trying to boss Mary around?" "What?" Peter was in a tizzy. "No. I just want to come into the house." "Into MY house?" Mary wanted to know. "I live with you," he pointed out. He gestured toward Flash. "And what's he doing here? Didn't you know I was coming?" "Do you live with me? And Madge called to tell me you were on your way. She explained how your little dick got all hard from dressing up and acting girly. She told me how you got off on playing foot games. And that you even jerked off in front of them because it got you so excited." "No," he protested. "I mean, not exactly. It wasn't like that." "So now you're calling my best friend Madge a liar? Even though she has three of my other friends to back her up?" "You don't understand." He needed something to give him some leverage. Peter said again, "Why is Flash still here? I thought he was just coming to cry on your shoulder." Mary gave Peter a withering look. "The reason Flash is still here," she said with frosty precision, "is that I asked him to stay. Why? Because I was so upset to find out that my so-called boyfriend was being a total freak around my girlfriends. Now I'm going to have to live with them knowing that. And telling lots of other people." She sighed. "So I've decided that you can't be my boyfriend until all this gets worked out. I know you gave up your old apartment, so you can still live here. In fact, I insist on it. Maybe that way I can find some closure." She shook her head. "But it won't be easy for me." Peter couldn't believe his reversal of fortune. Mary leaned on Flash and the athletic guy put a protective arm around her shoulders. She snuggled up to him. Peter heard a car passing and looked unhappily back over his shoulder. Flash walked Mary away and Peter at last gained the relative sanctuary of the house. He saw one more possible opening and was so anxious about everything that he tried it. "You know," he said to Mary's back. "If Madge didn't call you until after I left her place, how did you get upset last night, when Flash should have been getting ready to leave? The timelines don't match." He thought he had an ironclad case. Mary's pretty brow creased. "Madge did call me this morning. That's true. But she also phoned last night to let me know how perverted you were acting. She was very concerned about me. And when Flash saw how betrayed I felt, he was right there for me. That was when I asked him to stay. And he very kindly agreed to do it. All night long. You should thank him for being a better friend than you were." It was as if the floor had vanished from under Peter. He had made that accusation and then heard it disproved in a few emotional words. Why hadn't he just kept his mouth shut? Now she was madder than ever at him. How would he repair their relationship? Worse, Flash was infuriated. "That's it," the strong young man said hotly. "I'm not going to stand here and listen to you call Mary a liar. You're a disgrace... Pet." He grabbed Peter's upper arm, spun him around, and tore the jacket off him. Peter squealed like a girl and threw his arms across his weak chest. He pressed his unmuscular thighs together. Flash sneered at the unbuttoned shorty top and tiny thong that were all he wore. He scowled at his messed up hair and ruined make-up. Then he reapplied his viselike grip on Peter's bicep and marched him through the house, to a wooden chair in the den. Mary followed. Thought Peter couldn't see it, her distressed expression had been replaced by a gleeful leer. She recomposed her features as Flash sat down and dragged Peter across his lap. Sounding sincere, Flash told Mary, "I'm sorry I have to do this, dear, but it has to be done. I can't let him insult you like that." She went to the guy who had spent the night in her home. Peter turned his head to see what was happening. She bent down to give Flash a kiss on the cheek. "I understand. You make me feel so protected, dear. It's sad that I have to be defended against the guy I was living with. But at least now I know you'll be there for me." She gave his bare shoulder a squeeze. As soon as Mary stepped away, Flash raised his hand. Peter realized too late that the strong guy was going to hit him. Smack his bottom. Spank him like a naughty boy. Or girl. No, no, no. He was trying to figure some way to prevent it when Flash's arm swung and his open hand connected with Peter's rump, still not recovered from the previous night's punishments. The fleshy sound of palm landing hard on soft flesh repeated over and over, while Peter wailed and kicked his feet. He held onto the legs of the chair and tried not to start weeping. But his control failed him and hot tears streamed down his flushed, make-up stained cheeks. Flash didn't relent until his victim was a blubbering mess, his nose running and a string of spit hanging from his lower lip, a strand of hair hanging across his forehead. Flash stood abruptly and rolled Peter off his lap. The spanked guy landed on his side and lay there in a sprawl. He couldn't get his breathing under control. Mary went to Flash, her loving arms opened wide. She said, "My hero." They embraced and shared a deep lingering kiss, while Peter looked up at them in hurt disbelief. Mary's hand went to Flash's crotch and caressed his privates. Peter's ego imploded. How was he supposed to act, if he still lived with Mary, even though she was obviously getting physical with the other guy? What would it be like tomorrow? A week from then? Or...? SIX WEEKS LATER Pet came swishing into the living room, wearing nothing but a tiny, white lace apron, black stockings, matching heels, and a little maid's cap perched atop his trimmed and styled hair. He had been given bangs and had on plenty of make-up. Lip liner and bright magenta lipstick made his mouth appear larger than it was. Nowhere on his body was there a single hair growing. He sashayed across the room carrying a round silver tray, on which were a can of beer and a glass of wine. He went to Mary, who was on the sofa next to Flash. She had on one of the athletic guy's T-shirts, which was much to big for her. He wore only lounge pants with the emblem of some national sports team duplicated all over them. Pet bent forward from the waist to offer the drinks to Mary. She took her wine. He turned the other way and bent again, toward Flash, who accepted his cold beer. Flash barked at him, "Turn back toward my girlfriend. Let me see that cute sissy ass of yours, Pet." When Peter obeyed, Flash got his unoccupied hand on one naked buttock and kneaded it freely. Pet whimpered but did nothing to stop him. Mary sat up straighter and set her glass on the end table. She leaned in to finger both Pet's nipples. The feminized male involuntarily squirmed his hips, as if he was responding with pleasure to Flash's pawing. Peter reacted sexually to the nipple play, his penis starting to get hard. Sadly for him, to start was all it could do. A month earlier they had locked his dick in a chastity device that reduced it to a pink bump and kept it that way. The happy couple laughed as they made their victim writhe with shame and frustration. At last they backed off and made him stand in the middle of the room, facing them. "So," Flash wanted to know. "What should we do with the pussy boy?" "Oh," Mary said, "didn't I tell you? I'm having Beryl and Carnie and Dara over this evening. We're having a get-together so I can thank them again for helping me to see Pet as she truly is. And because our little sissy has been behaving herself most of the time, I asked them all to wear boots, to make it more fun for our serving girl. I was even going to unlock Pet's crushingly tight chastity device, but I still can't find that key." "Too bad about the key," Flash said with mock concern. "I'll keep an eye out for it too. But I meant, what should we do with pussy boy right now? After handling his smooth pink buns, I'm all kinds of horny. How about if the three of us head for the bedroom?" Mary laughed. "Sounds like fun. Pet's gotten so good at licking me, to get me ready to take that monster cock of yours." "And sucking me so I'm extra hard when I put it in you." They both laughed. Peter's former girlfriend asked him, "Does that sound like fun to you, Pet?" He gagged slightly and said, "Yes, dear. Thank you." As if it was an afterthought, she inquired, "And I know you still haven't gotten used to cleaning me up afterwards, Pet darling. But it feels so good. After Flash gives me a couple hard deep climaxes with that weapon between his legs, it's so nice to have you lap me. Not only do I get that huge mess of cum he pumps me full of cleaned up, but I get a bonus orgasm. What I call a soft kittycat orgasm, because you use your tongue like a kitten. So would it be okay if I have you do that for me again? It won't be for about an hour because, like you know, that's how long my lover can go before he's done. And while you're eating all this salty spunk, you can think about the girls showing up later. Remember that they'll all be wearing boots and they know how much you love to get intimate with what's on their feet. So are you okay with slurping out my pussy after Flash empties his balls in there?" There was only one correct answer for Peter to give. And he had to do it with feigned enthusiasm, if he didn't want