The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Kneeling Gina reaches up to Lulu’s gigantic hooters and says, “Big tits sell tickets, but this is ridiculous.”

[Lulu’s Viewpoint]

‘Lulu will explain. …My agent Gina returns from “The Country of Love” Studio and a ‘Big Gals’ Lingerie’ shop with a new deal and a bra. She says I can work at Solly Allen’s Studio in three more weeks. But I must lose weight to at least 125-130. I’m overweight due to idleness and stress. I’m free of my bad Meena film-contract but I can’t act anywhere for six weeks altogether. A contractual business hang-up?

Gina, my at-times lover, thumb-rolls erect my long, pink nipples. Feels great. Don’t think of it as lesbian love. I’m in it for the perks? Gina’s helping me with my actress career? I think… At the moment, I don’t think so well? A-bit-too-frenzied boob-squeezing affects me: Get very horny. Pleasure zings down-belly. “Please stop, Gina.” Feebly twist partway-free self. “I got to go to my stockbroker’s and shopping.”

Gina wraps my new bra around me, shoving in my huge tits, a bit roughly. I like this too. She smiles and says, “It’s a 39-F and it only just fits you, Lulu-baby: You’re enormous there,—and here, here, here and here…” [Indicates with abrupt pokes to my belly, both thighs and ass.] “You’re bulging much too much.”

‘They aren’t so fat’, I wish I could say—but she is correct. I look in the mirror at my naked body. Blonde fuzz over my pussy being rubbed by my hunkered-down, frizzy-redheaded friend. Gina smiles, fiercely hand-jobs my pussy to climax! “Argghh!” Sway from side to side, stagger, nearly stumbling, eyes closed.

She disrobes below the waist, lies on my bed and spreads her legs, pointing at her fine auburn down-covered pussy. I kneel by the bed-edge, bend over her, eat her pussy as hard and fast as I can, because I have an appointment to keep. I spin my head circularly, my tongue leaning down hard on Gina’s rather-prominent red clitoris: Not yet…Instead I tongue-penetrate her, hear welcome gasp of pleased surprise.

“Ahh!”

Tap her G-spot with my tongue-tip, munch my lips on her pussy-lips, lick suck both sets inner and outer… Dual action never fails to excite Gina: She’s huffing and puffing… Gina’s feeling up her rather-large tits through her peasant-blouse, bra. My tongue-stabs her clit.—This time orgasm hits! “Argghh!” I lift my mouth free, tasting of her pussy, long-licking up and down Gina’s silky-smooth, light-orange inner thighs.

“I love you, Lulu!” Gina cries out loud.

“I know…” If only I felt the same way…

“Please scoot up here and lie next to me, Lulu.” Gina abruptly lowers her vocal-tone to huskily demand:

…Look in my eyes, you’re very sleepy…You hardly hold up your eyelids…That’s right, look straight at me, now close your eyes. Like to obey, don’t you, Lulu? You don’t eat much anymore …No extra calories. …Any exercise, you’re up for it, right? Right! You’ll feel refreshed when you wake up, but don’t forget, black coffee without cream or sugar until you hit your right weight, of 125? Okey-dokey, Lulu? You are obedient and happy to do Gina’s bidding. …All right, Lulu, AWAKEN!” Gina claps her hands loudly. “Bap!”

Did I doze off? …Never mind, feels great! It’s Gina’s nipples on mine? “Can I hug you a lot closer?”

“Need you ask?” Gina giggles.

[At the Broker’s]

[Lulu’s Viewpoint, continued]

“…Unfortunately, tortures seen in ‘Lulu Electrocuted:’ [Recent hit-film I did for peanuts.] …They’re real.”

Mr. Bill Trou, my broker, merely licks his lips and sighs, “Ah, you suffer that for the good salary you make?” He pushes down an intercom button and asks a Ms. Cundit to come over to notarize our two papers. Brunette arrives in yellow-orange slit-bosomed shift, sweetly grins, holds a stamp-pad and pen. Envy not so much her indigo eyes [I’m blue-eyed too], pale contrasting complexion, but her slenderness! I’m given two pages to sign which I do fast peripherally notice Bill’s not-so-large-erect bulge in his pants?

“You are selling your commodities and putting the money in your cash account, earning a tad above inflation in interest.” He tells me earlier, ‘gold and oil peaked’ and I ‘should sell my shares in their mutual funds.’ Because I’m too busy to watch stocks go up and down, I keep mostly funds and cash. I always have to appear to execute this pesky guaranteed-signature when I transfer funds? I wonder ‘How much time am I really saving on this deal’? I break even after tax, Bill’s telling me, as I also write a market-counter check for $55K for the taxman. Reach for address-book in my purse.

Bill hands me a white envelope, stamped. Says ‘it’s on the house.’ As well, I threw in tax for my hit film-income. If following calculations, you know I earned a big bonus last time and made $20K on my funds?

I ask if I can live off my investments and Bill says, “No, not yet, but you are over-halfway there.” The so-trim, femme-fatale brunette gets up from her crouch, jiggling her tan-colored peach-sized breasts, so they practically tumble out in Bill Trou’s face. Doesn’t she know he’s happily-married to a fat blonde wife, has two chubby kids? They’re in his desk photo? Some girls don’t care…? Packing up, Ms. Cundit smiles; I thank her; she flounces away: A swaying, bottom-jouncing step. Bill grins and raises his brows.

“Do you rest and recuperate after each job?” Bill watches me as my top straightens out, sitting-up and I resist yanking my bosom down like that pretty notary would. I got big reddish polka-dots on my white dress. I like the way jersey is shiny-stretchy but now there‘s a wrinkle horizontally across the peaks of my breasts which I don’t dare flatten. I don’t dress up for here and my off-white shoes are flats. I’m only five-foot-two. I most always wear heels. I didn’t wear pantyhose. My legs are all right: Too short, chunky and paper-white. …At least they’re straight, curve where they oughta and end in neat feet.

[Flashback to Lulu’s Preparations]

We did shower though—I’m not describing all the showering again—but Gina is nice and freckly-orange all over. Her squared-off nipples are deep purplish-red, nearly black, and her full-D-cup boobs are perfectly round: They don’t droop at all. She’s only nineteen, after all. I admit that lately my boobs show a slight sag.

Gina says that I’ll get a star-percentage on the gross, but my weight’s got to be correct and my hair…Well, she likes it all white—I’m naturally mostly white-headed now—But Solly demands I be corn-blonde like my fans remember me, so I’ll have to get a dye-job. “No problem,” I said…Work’s such a snap over at Solly Allen’s Studio, since all hard bondage or torture is stunted or doubled for me…

[End Flashback]

[Back At the Broker’s]

“I had a recovery from that last film but it’s not often necessary…I’ve got a slow, no-work period at present. It’s a good thing.” Or so I tell him. Bill Trou mentions I could come out for dinner if I’d like. I beg off, shake, grab my sweater, get up to leave. I don’t want to get too friendly with businessmen.

We walk together to the elevator. Bill tells me he’s got a tax-shelter deal if I might want it, in the music area. Do I like music?

I brighten: “I enjoy all kinds, especially jazz and blues.”

“What about country music?”

“I can take it or leave it.” He says I’d earn a deduction of 2-for-1.

“But I’d have to lose on it?” I ‘probably would’, but I’d ‘gain in the long run with my low tax rate.’ Not sure I wholly understand this?

Hands me a brochure and says he has to know in the next two weeks, the minimum is $75K. Bends over-flips open-punches his phone: “You’d gain ten-fifteen thousand depending what your income is.”

“In the future I’ll make a starring salary again.”

My stockbroker glows at this input: “Even better…”

I say I’ll think about it: It’s awfully tempting. …Lately I’m down the whole time. …So I don’t want to do it?

[Shopping]

[In the “Awesome Foods” parking lot, Lulu sits in a spot, crossing out milk, cream, sugar, adding soup]

[Lulu’s Viewpoint, continued]

‘Occasionally I excite the male shoppers by opening my neckline an extra button. …This time, two, no, all three buttons!’ [Glances in rear-view at cleavage in polka-dot dress maximum-open since it has only three, reveals slope of her breasts only one huge tit at a time, as she leans grinning to one side and the other. Gets out, holding list in hand, keys door. Looks down at magnificent body, is satisfied, nodding.]

‘I grab the six Miso packets and also rummage behind the Minestrone and Chicken-varieties soups—a multitude of these, people here get lots of chicken?—Pick four Beef Minestrone, in the ‘Ethnic Foods’ half-aisle. What’s ethnic about a man-sized appetite if you are 133 & ½ pounds, the size of a small man? I get half my cheese packets of the ‘Reduced-fat Swiss cheese‘, in another low-calorie attempt. I can’t stand hard, tasteless, ‘Skim-milk’ food: I’ll lose weight? I see a man looking down my neck at my boobs.

That’s all right, yet I make a face and he averts his gaze quickly! Ha! Only one in ten isn’t interested in sex, according to my own estimate? Men who enjoyed sex today already, or else perhaps they’re gay?

Insofar as the delivery-man Rennie, he’s not interested except in my tip? I ask, ‘Fred’ says ‘He’s out now but I’m sure you can interest him in your delivery…’ He goes up to the Manager’s cubicle and tells him, pointing back at me. Both Produce-guy ‘Fred’ and the Manager act pop-eyed and stare at me too long.

In gratitude, I approach the steps and the Produce Man gets a good [ultra-fair, huge, round] tit-view as he downstairs-trots to me. Licking lips Fred gasps in-between breathing, “He’ll take your order first when he returns, Ms. Allhallo.” “Call me Lulu, …Fred.” I’m reading his shirt. Best bimbo-imitation: Bowed-head, I gaze up gently soft-spoken whispering, “Thank you ever so.” Fred standing tall blushing preens like he won a war himself, avers, “It weren’t anything—uh Lulu.” Shakes hands. His: Hot, sweaty!

I finish picking out my oranges, not cutting the number, pick the ‘Blueberry’ cornbread I avoid, and the one remaining pack of ‘Plain’ cornbread. I don’t go up to Bakery counter, complaining about how ‘There’s always more of the kind I don’t want’ as usual. After bending forward to root out cornbread, I grin at two more guilty-faced tit-men. As I roll my cart up to the check-out, I study my list: Seeing I need my coffee and tea, I grab them on the way, digging to the bottom and back of each stack for freshest packages. Dutifully replace front packs. Not sure there’s a difference…? I’m done. …See Rennie’s in:

…Talking to the Manager on the steps to his closed-in, raised dais, where Manager’s stepped out, hand on door: Pointing to me, young-already-thinning-beige-headed wiry Rennie nods response slowly backs.

I pay, shove my now-bagged cart to Rennie. Although the Manager’s eyes follow my large-red-dotted boobs’ movements out and back inside my dress, Rennie’s unresponsive, saying only that, ‘He’ll be right behind me on the road.’ I smile and thank them both without any cuteness. Why waste flirting on him? Rennie’s tall and thin, in good shape, like older gays, but …don’t know, he could be simply a type of guy who’s not very sexual: They’re out there…neuters or semi-neuters? I button up in my car.—It’s chilly…’

[Unpacking and drinking, playing… Sees The Coven’s ad in the paper]

‘First I touch my white hair, remember I’m supposed to dye it back my original yellow-blonde from my snow-white and go to pick up my address book from its doorway-table resting-place. In case, I undo my neckline buttons and kick off my flat white shoes. I hear the doorbell and it’s Rennie shouldering a box.

I let him in, he moves the cardboard box to in front of him grinning silently perhaps at my gaping bosom? “Have to phone…” I say—for some reason now, I’m cool to him—when he’s finally showing interest? Indicate my table, gesturing him to take things out of bags and bring his box away with him.

Get on the phone with Cindy at the ‘Beauty Spa’ and make an appointment later today. “Thanks Rennie, would you like a drink or anything? I think there’s wine left?” …I got a ‘Ruffino Chianti Classico Riserva’ or two which is Gina’s favorite tipple, the only booze in my place. We did some damage to one thickset, nearly-empty bottle, which comes in a pretty straw basket. I drag it out, and a glass, plus coffee for me.

“You’re not having any?” Asks the delivery guy? I put on my Colombian coffee, which I’d rather, fill his glass, toss out the wine-trickle left, rinsing and corking, save my pretty basket-bottle, placing it under the sink with my exactly-similar, full reserve bottle, covering both with a brown plastic bag. Out of sight, out of mind? For my dieting, I shouldn’t indulge… why tell Rennie I’m overweight? I answer pleasantly, preparing a wasteful single-cup amount, prematurely-pouring my incomplete-drip, fresh toasty-smelling coffee into my mug. “I’d rather this. But let’s toast to good drinking and eating.” [Clink my mug to his wine-glass.] ‘Am I going to screw him?’ I give him ten bucks tip. Rennie eyes me all over hungrily.

Before he can says thanks, I tiptoe up and kiss him. He drops wallet. Hmm…Nice. Feel his erection. Rennie gripping my round bottom cheeks, hugs me tight, tongue-kisses. Going better than Gina-sex!

Rennie slurps down the end of his wine and leaves the glass on the table. “What about the groceries?” He’s fingering my pussy, boobs and waist while I heave orange juice, cheese, cornbread and oranges into the fridge. His feeling me up doesn’t make my work any easier, in fact he’s a menace, but a nice one…

“All right, big fella?” Twisting loose of Rennie’s grasp, I coffee-gulp three times quickly, it’s not too-hot, sadly leaving a lost slurp behind. Clunk down neglected mug. Grin. We enter the bedroom side-by-side.

He brusquely pushes me down on my bed, where I bounce, with all of me rebounding prettily. Yanks down my panties. “Wait, I can do it better. I very-zippily undress and un-bra, while he’s much more jumpily wriggling hairily out of his jeans and shirt. We are united on the bed without further ado. I didn’t see any shorts, so Rennie is not all that clean? He does unroll and employ a condom. I’m thankful for that. I won’t have to go into a spiel about not trusting his past bed-partners’ past bed-partners… It’s all true. How would I know the health of those unknown people? We land crossways onto my big bed.

“Argghh!” We both climax! I don’t know why we orgasm together? This normally only happens when I’m on top and now I’m not. It‘s almost a missionary-position except my legs aren’t straight out or on the bed. For some reason, we’re both in a hurry and luckily I have two bathrooms… When we’re done with the cleanup, we kiss demurely for once. I kind of like the slow end-of-bed sitting hugging. …Let go…

We quietly discuss our lives while dressing, he’s a year younger, but could get serious about me in a heartbeat. I say ‘I’m a career girl.’ My dress and bra are scattered so I slip into a quilted casual cover.

“Glad you’re not as kinky as your films”, because he likes only the straight sex. Rennie goes out, his now-empty box held up in a sort of salute.

I pick up the afternoon paper from the door and duck inside, not all that dressed. I’m wearing an open bed-jacket: When I bend over to pick an item up, it lets my torpedo breasts flip out rather carelessly. I dress as fast as I can, sniff, next wear my same outfit. Put my breads in the fridge. Both loaves were omitted earlier; I stow away coffee, tea and all soups in my cupboards. My keys…I scoop on my way out.

Head out for the Spa. I drive over, skim the paper on my way at red lights. See Anne-Marie’s ad for a sacrificial victim. …The Coven. I circle it. …But am I feeling worthless-enough to be willing? Write a note.

[The Beauty Parlor]

“Cindy!” Yells the bouffant lady at the hostess desk. Quite a hoarse shout for this delicate beauty, who is slender yet busty and with perfect skin and hair. Light-brown, all wound up, yet puffy. Complicated do. Couldn’t handle that hairdo-effort each day myself, but this girl, “Denise,” it says on the counter, is even more of a professional beauty than I am. Cindy thrusts out her dark, curly, ‘windswept’—head and shoulders into view. “Lulu! Are you ready? ‘Cause I am! Ooh-la-la! You’re much bigger! We have to go to work on you!”

‘This scares the hell out of me because I know what they did, when I came here not needing any fixing!’

“…I’m only a half-pound more than when you last saw me.”

Suddenly tapping both my nipples, Cindy cries, “On you it goes straight here!” My breasts ballooned?

I grab her invading hands off. “Er, I guess that’s so…But not so touchy-feely, …please, Cindy?”

Holding my two hands she leads me to her scary dentist’s chair. Presses unnecessary on my pussy directly, slides her hand up to my belly, she pushes me back to near-horizontal. “Lulu, I must mousse.”

Horrible swaths of goop on each hand, grinning Cindy plasters my head completely. The stuff sizzles and stings. I remember it’s like lye! Now she’s tells me to close my eyes, fits some clear shield over my eyes. A big machine settles on my head. “Hmmmmm.” A mechanical rumble: Feel washing-machine-like movement: My scalp jerked this way, that. “What?…Are we doing?” I shout over rowdy tintinnabulation.

“It’s your colors: Ends, platinum-blond, top and sides, corn-yellow. …You want both tones, yes?” Yells the stick-figure brunette in my ear, kissing me full on the lips, laughing wildly. ‘No!’ All right, I had both in my hair before. I don’t have to match exactly, the fans’d figure my white-blond ends grew out? I see a head-shot of me—a still from my last “Lulu-Electrocuted” picture [a horror!]—held in Cindy’s hand. From Gina…Who knows? That’s Cindy’s aim. As snappily as procedure started, it ends…singed-smell wafts by.

The enormous helmet-device rises to the ceiling: Not resembling anything so much as an upside-side down light-bulb socket, I see red-hot wires spark and wink blackly out. Cindy is smiling that ‘I can go Steam-Sauna while my head sets up.’ Shrieks, “You’re Super-Deluxe!” Whatever that is. Grips my pudgy underarms, pulls me off her chair, steadying me by grasping my bottom-cheeks unnecessarily.

“I’m fine, you let go of me, Cindy.”

“I forget you’re sensitive Lulu.—Oh, my, indeed-modest, compared to what we see on the screen, huh?”

Now I’m a bit embarrassed…possibly I blush: ”Uh-huh, don’t believe the films, Cindy, they aren’t real…”

Cindy makes Pekinese-face, points to a cabinet, “Very-shy women strip inside there, so we can’t watch.”

[The Steam Room and the Sauna]

‘I admit Cindy nearly shamed me into disrobing on a bench alongside a group of gluey, fried, middle-aged, naked women with and without towels, sandals and cellulite. I opt for my private cabinet. When I return to the open area and put my clothes in the locker, one of the flabby women shouts, “You, you’re Lulu, the Porno-Queen!” I’m naked. This way I’m well-known. I nod, wave and slip into the Steamroom.

It’s a completely hot and foggy, damp place. Billowing steam hides interior totally. Invisible women talk as though they’re continuing the conversation I heard last time? Squinting make out shapes. Four low, unenergetic voices: “Sweden and England are better-governed, …Switzerland too, but they’re so small.”

“…The no-guns rule for cops in England is superior, don’t you think?”

“…Well, there isn’t much dough over there.”

“…Everything’s a lot smaller, that’s the feeling I get, from books and movies?”

How long can you talk about the same subject? …Nearly three months, apparently.

Exiting, I try the Sauna. First lean up against the wall outside and catch my breath. See ‘Warning Sign’ about temperature and ‘How to adjust’, throwing water on the rocks above 180 degrees F. …Et cetera. I don’t want to be in charge of this since I’m a beginner. I go in and compared to the Steam, it’s a goodly-amount improved. Can see! I lie out on the unpopular side away from five women, one trying to read a newspaper again…How is that possible? One says, “Hello.” May have been the one woman I spoke to before, her weird, beanpole yet well-covered figure, is strangely-familiar? “You’re so lucky, just keep doing what you’re doing, Lulu.” “Thank you”, I mutter. Exits half-smiling, a graceful stride, no jiggling. I’m surprised she knows my name. …Of course so did the near-naked, total strangers of the locker-room.

After what seems like an hour …I dozed partly, wake to see my bottom lies on an mystery piece of newspaper? Cindy injecting herself in halfway, inimitably leaning over, she’s nearly completely inside, but doesn’t enter, silhouetted in doorway, yanking on both my big toes unnecessarily and smiles, aping tongue-laps at feet, “You bring your paper in with you. …C’mon Lulu…You’ll be nearly done by now.” Her arm around me, I’d like to shrug off. “Please…” Is all I manage…I guess I a big softie, but I’d have to be scolding Cindy the whole time. She squeezes me with a grin and pretends to tweak my nipples, but doesn’t, grins. Laughs at me. Cindy is oddly attractive considering how lean she is. Vivacious, you’d say.

“Delightful. Shouldn’t you weigh regularly?” Twice pats my fanny up onto the scale. I’m only 130! Cindy brings me back down, reminds me it weighs light, or ‘so they say.’ She gets on, and it’s only 95!

“I’m probably a pound or two more, ninety-six, ninety-seven, but that’s surprisingly close to correct.”

‘Excuse me while I retch!’

Peering close croons, “You are a little pekid today, Lulu, do you want a quick pickup? I got something…”

“No that’s O.K., Cindy…I missed lunch and anyway I’m dieting but I’ll catch an early supper later.” I don’t know what the dark-Farrah-Fawcett brunette offers me? Have this feeling it’s illegal and habit-forming?

While I dress out of sight I hear indistinct catty remarks from the locker-room…”Can Lulu be unmarried? …Divorced, I heard. …Too fat? ...That figures.” I snub the smiling hypocrites as I pass them on my way.

‘We’re in Cindy’s cubicle. I’m sat in a flexing-chair that’ll lean my head back into a sink for a head-rinse.’

Cindy makes a monster face and acts like she’s going to pussy-press, glides up me with a cunny-touch only—it thrills all the same, next palm-brushes both my nipples, “Way back, way-y, way-y back…” Cindy yodels, chortles, deftly removes my eye-guard, which I’d forgotten, and runs water onto my forehead.

I have that incredibly-pointy, erect-nipple-look now, as I glance down, my silk panties show. I reach down and cover myself. “Oho!” Cindy hoots. Tweaks my ears, kisses me. “You’re nearly all done!” My chair topples back upright. “Wham!” Starts my hair-brushing, rotates a hair-dryer very quickly. “Now lookee here.” Mirrored: I’m photo-perfect, my hair corn-yellow overall except lower white-blond band.

I pull out a five and a ten, return them inside, and hand Cindy a twenty, tip. It isn’t her fault that I took a salary-cut last time out. She did as good a job on me. …Not her fault: Her ‘hands’—problem’s part of her.

Suddenly Cindy’s kneeling and crushing her face into my crotch, crying or laughing or both, while crush-hugging my pudgy butt tightly, both arms around! Snuffling direct up into my pussy! Can’t deter her, with my hands full of purse and wallet. I don’t know what’s up but one slender-yet-curvy arm snakes up a card, two red lips on it, above that ‘Cindy does it ALL!’ in fancy, embossed script and below her mouth [?] …Well anyway below lips-picture, a phone number. “You going to call me this time Lulu? Or what?”

I say, ‘I will, yes, of course,’ escaping fast, and pay again, an obscene amount, to breathtaking-beauty Denise at the counter up-front. What hair! Denise really deserves to be in pix! No use telling her that. …If it hadn’t been for my accidentally meeting Solly and tempting him with an impromptu audition…? Her eyes have heft, presence. She sighs a whispered, “Come again.” Hope vast expense is a write-off?

[At Lulu’s Grand New Penthouse Apartment]

‘I’m re-reading my note answering The Coven’s ad, to wit, “Dear Anne-Marie and Jo-Anne: I’d like to wear a mask, otherwise will do your job at my former rate, five-hundred-dollars. P.S. I don’t care what you do so long as I have no marks left-over. I’m to make a film immediately afterwards. Sincerely, Lulu.”

I push my note aside and write their phone number out of my address book. If I’ve got to do this, I might as well do it right away. I don’t need to write their newspaper box, since I know them.

Listen to my answer-phone: Gina wants to see me. She met with Solly. He’ll put me to work, my next film releasing when I’m available by my new contract, saving a couple of weeks waiting. I phone her ‘yes’, take off windbreaker, go to the bathroom. I look good in my hairdo. My 39-F bra-cups flop loose when I yank neckline to peek at my tits! As always I’m humongous just the same. …I love, hate big tits!

I put on soup. Break up French bread, wolf it all faster than usual… It’s awful hot! I drink water, because it’s less fattening… More soup. Even mopping up with the dregs with my bread, which I don’t usually. …I could shelve this plate and bowl, they’re so clean. I don’t, shoving them into the dishwasher, adding soap, turning on: At the last minute, sticking in Rennie’s wine-glass, which makes me smile remembering. I don’t know if I‘m still down, starting to feel neutral about life. Able to struggle on…? The downstairs doorbell buzzes and I let Gina up. Poke a full water bottle in the fridge—if I’m going to do this dieting, at least I can enjoy it a bit. What about that French bread I ate? Well, I’m no angel…

[The Exactly-Correct Bra, Contract and Men Sex-workers: Very Important]

Gina clicks off her phone, comes over to where I’m bent over the bed in only my pink silk panties, freed hooters hanging down. “He’ll come around, go ahead and sign it as is.” Gina starts lifting a black lace 36-D bra onto me, but it is too small both ways. “Nope, missed by that much.” She says smiling, her thumb and forefingers up, a couple of inches apart. “Could I have these four bras, they’re all my size?”

I turn my head from the contract pages lying on the bed, where I’ve been writing-in: “All men have to be no larger-hung than Robert Thwaite.” That’s Bobby, about as big a man as I fit without any trouble. I’m small-built in that all-important length for sex, my pussy. Most people think it’s great, but not Solly Allen. He and Tammy wrote this “Gang-Bang” film where four men, all built huge in the peter, rape me.

Well, I know if there’s any violence, my stand-in Jayci will have to take it instead, so the concept doesn’t confront me. My price of 2.5—% on the gross is as much as my previous 5—% net-net profit share if not more, says my agent Gina. My salary is $125K, only the same as before. …And to get smaller-hung guys, Solly phone-advised Gina, I must accept $100K a film and only a 2—% gross override.

But Gina says we’ll smooth this out without my giving in…

“I’d like to keep my white 36D-bra in case I ever get back to a hundred and twenty-five pounds, but you can have the blue, yellow and black ones.” I grimace, shrug, sign twice: Shrugging swings natural tits.

My 38-DD half-bra, for strapless, squashes boobs up fiercely as snapping it, Gina says, “Thanks, Baby.”

“You’re welcome, but please take it back off now…it’s a killer!” It’s funny, next bra’s sole difference is that my long pink nipples are included. …When Gina fits my 38DD long-line bra, also light-pink, it fits fine?

“You’re in, Lulu.” Gina smugly announces, closing the back.

Good thing: No more bras except my new 39-F which is too loose. I weigh, and see dial say ‘131-132’.

Gina remarks, “You’re getting there, but your new contract demands 125 to 130.“

“I can do it if I have a week or so…” I mildly assert, stepping off my scale with questioning look.

Gina grabs my thighs, my pussy, squeezing too tight and pulls down my shiny panties, kissing my butt. “I find you perfect like you are, Sweetheart, but it’s the camera, makes you look bigger…” Gina puts padded bondage bungy-cords on my wrists and ankles where I’ve collapsed crossways on my bed.

I didn’t know but I fit exactly with my arms overhead: Bed’s width must be a little less than its length. My wrist-cords are attached underneath frame by long bungees to each same-side ankle-cord.

“Now you should be punished.” Gina kneels beside me: Both of us naked, her perfectly round tits stretch up as she raises each hand to spank me. Ironically tempting me. Up and down tits wave. Hurts.

“Spank! Spank! Spank! Spank!”

“Oww! That pains. Why, Gina?”

“Your thighs are too heavy, all right? You hesitated signing up with Solly. …Any other stupid questions, Lulu-Baby? Spank! Spank! Spank! Spank!”

‘My tits!’ “Owwwww!”

“I’ll gag you if you keep that up.” “Spank! Spank! Spank! Spank!…” “…Spank! Spank! Spank! Spank!”

My thighs! My quaking, slightly-protruding tummy! My prominent reddening pussy…I howl: “Aeeeee!’

“You’ve had enough.” Gina slides down and moves her delicious softness, her sweet electricity atop all of my three most-sensitive spots. Her dried-blood-red, squared-off nipples are up, and I lick, suck and nibble them. I feel her tensing up and can’t believe it…I keep after it, lapping like there’s no tomorrow.

“Argghh!” Gina’s excited from spanking me? …Not me. I’m only starting to climb to my peak. …She’s moving her pussy on mine. It’s correct. …But she stops and goes away to strap-on. Spreading, inserts two lubed-up, black-dildo ends, one into each of our wet boxes, gradually stretches, penetrates, pumps.

“Argghh!” That did it.

Why is she unstrapping her contraption without not untying me?

“Let me up, Gina.”

She goes to my bathroom for the longest time, silently returns, gets dressed.

I could scream. I need to go too, bad! “Gina, why don’t you free me?” She’s ignoring me and going out. The door closes.

I see a note pull it up with teeth. My shoulder up a hair to read, twist my head, one boob rounding-out.

“Your cords are loosened underneath. Pull on them and you’ll see. You’re already freed, Darling. I love you. Thanks for all, especially sex. You’re the best. Gina.” Curved, toothy grin-sketch drawn alongside.

I lift my arms and though tucked in-between the mattress and the box-spring to hold them there, my cords pop out. I’m able to untie my wrists and ankles, which show only faint red marks. Run into the bathroom. I’m pink where I’m normally white. “…My god!” …The worst torture ever! …Bar none!’

[Standing at the Highway verge with Anne-Marie the Witch]

The tall, straight-haired brunette is yelling, jabbing at me: “Strip down to your bra and panties now!”

I strip because Anne-Marie’s angry …for no reason. I’m good so far, doing everything she’s asked. My dingy polka-dot dress stinks after all day. I pull it off reluctant and shy. …Chesty blur: My bra flip-flops.

“Faster!” She grasps my pink-and-white face, squeezes tight, black nails digging into my chubby cheeks!

“Yes, Anne-Marie!” Throws back my head, violently discarding me, my eyes tearing-up automatically. I wear a slip. I unknot, drop. A car beeps at my standing half-naked by the roadside. …It’s whizzing past.

“Your shoes!” Kicking the sides of each, making irremediable black scuffs on my off-white, eggshell flats. She yanks down my last reinforced 38DD-bra. I’m somehow obscene, my bra crushes down below tits…

I repress a plea to go easy with my last brassiere. The passing car screeches to a stop; want to see my tits. They honk again for each breast-slap. “Thwap! Thwap! Thwap! Thwap! Thwap! Thwap! Thwap! Thwap! Thwap! Thwap! Thwap! Thwap! Thwap!” I’m not sure how many times Anne-Marie swats my large pink-tip tits back, forth endlessly, until reddened they’re about to start bleeding near my nipples?

She doesn’t want cuts, pull down my panties to my knees, spreading me apart to snubbed maximum, a hands-breadth. She kneels and says, “You’ll lick off the road-grunge stuck to my knees next.” A sneer accompanies this. Anne-Marie teases, faking an underhand-slap, only pats my pussy twice, pokes in with a finger, rolls up clitoral hood, stretches wide my outer-inner lips: Dry, it’s not easy, I gasp at pain.

Nothing like my boobs buzzing hurts at me continually of course. Too, I suffer from my road-exposure?

She reaches over, grips money from purse, brutally shoves a thin wad of dirty cash harshly into my sex.

“You lick gravel off me now, Slut!” ‘How I hate that term. I’m not! I kneel and she stands, I suck off her dirt and spit grime, dust and rock, out a couple or three times for each knee. Three greenish bills—two hundreds, a fifty—partly slip out of me? As Anne-Marie bends me facedown over car’s hot hood, presses me against it, roasts my nipples, squashes flat my breasts, tying my hands behind. A long leash-like tail trailing: Rude fingers stuff money back up into my wet pussy. “Oh!” My head, I raise up: Hands clapping out parked-car window. It speeds away with barrage of honking. Carload of guys is trash.

Anne-Marie feels my soft inner thighs, pats my spread-cunny, roughly pokes the cash well up inside me.. The leash between my legs she ties to her rear bumper. Gets into driver’s seat.

“Try and keep up…We don’t want you scraped up or wounded, yet…” The car moves and I miss my shoes and my bra immediately since my feet pain and my tits jiggle with every faltering step, but I can’t be dragged all naked like this. …It seems quick but I may have run a long way, I don’t know? …May is cool here yet I’m all sweaty when the car stops. Panty rope-split: I‘m sore in my asshole as well as aching in my poor wadded cunt. Smirks, stuffs my dough all the way up into my sore red pussy, “I hope that’s satisfactory, Lulu?” Anne-Marie unfastens my leash.

I look grateful like a guilty puppy. I mean it. My swaying tits and very-blackened feet are killing me.

She’s wrapping rope around my ankles, tying, and wave-indicating I must fit myself into her car trunk. I need help and she tweaks both my nipples, my butt-cheeks, too hard while shoving me inside. “Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow!” It’s smelly, …large enough if I curl.

Anne-Marie’s blouse bounces nearby as she hogties my ankles up to my hands.

I’m frisky enough to ape biting her shaking boobs, nip both her nipples the teeniest bit and hang on with rigid mouth. Not biting or chewing, I taste, feel two fabric layers.

Laughs. “No-no, no fun for you.” Anne-Marie’s body receding, her bra and blouse’s cloth pop from my teeth, grinning, “Bon Voyage, Slut!”

“But please don’t…” Jungle-drum heart-thuds. I’m shut in a dark oil-odorous cabinet, by a windy slam. Crying noiseless sniffling, sobbing. I pull my knees, yank hands… Jostling hurts as her car picks up speed.

[Check-In At ‘Leaping Lures’ Fish-Camp]

The desk-clerk screwed me once so he’s overly familiar, says, “Margie’s here in the Housekeeping Cabin.

…Ms. Tomson, your friend Jo-Anne is in Nine and those two weirdos share Six. The doctors have Five.”

Anne-Marie pays and purses both receipts. Tells rough clerk, “Plop Lulu’s key in-between her tits. That’s a safe spot. And if you’d like, you can give her a nice welcoming kiss.” With a big smile for him.

“Sure thing,” enthuses the bald, scrawny counterman, rushing to me with a tagged key. Coming up too close, I smell his hillbilly horsiness. Desk man yodels “Excuse-uussee Me” like a TV character, and pokes sharp end of his key into my boobs quickly, making me grimace. He hangs the tag down outside, I peer at it. Frowning while he grips my butt tightly with both horny hands, and kisses me open-mouthed! “Urg-mmmph!” I twist, push him away and break loose with difficulty, while Anne-Marie giggles and chuckles. “C’mon, Slut, we don’t have all day…” Clerk’s left standing there, arms out, drooling. We exit.

I see Margie in the doorway of the nearest cabin, holding a stack of linen, waving her free right hand. She’d need to be loving me up right there, the crazy nympho. Peeking at her father’s Office cabin, she pulls down her neckline, hides her one boob-peep with the towels, moves stack, shows me her other tit. Pretty: Bright red nipples. Oversize for her apple breasts. I nod, show I appreciate views. …I do, too.

Two sinister shrouded figures stand outside my Cabin Three. They are men, the same height. Why do they kiss? Oh, correct, it’s Bob and Dick, our Coven gay couple. Male-kissing-male’s slightly nauseating, don’t you think? Yet two girls kissing is cute …and acceptable? Why is that? I’ll try to better my tolerance! Old-fashioned there. Anne-Marie points to my key which I remove from my cleavage guiltily.

The two black-robed men grin as she tells them: “You remember our Sacrifice. Lulu’s a hair smaller but shaped much the same as before. A 38DD fits her, not the 39 we used before...”

One of the male gays say, ”We traded in a larger, leather suspension-bra and paid only ten bucks extra. ”

Anne-Marie brusquely grabs my key and a musty, rustic odor creeps out when she opens our door. The two men start stripping me. She leaves, saying “Don’t harm her excessively, Lulu’s got to last us all day.”

I see out the big window that my employer, Chief Witch of the Coven walks up to Jo-Anne’s Cabin: Her assistant, smaller-lesbian partner runs out and meets her with a tight clinch. Tongue-kissing all the way side-by-side waists-holding to her Cabin Nine? Into door lesbo duo groin-bumps, squeezes boobs, sidles.

I’m getting wet until the homos remove and replace my bra with their heavy-duty, reinforced armature with hanging crotch-straps. Male pair pulls up all the strings to the bra’s eyelets and hangs me by my tits and crotch, two leathers spreading my cunny open and a third strap tortures me, right up my center!

Dick reaches, tying-off: “It’s for the waterfall-fit. Like a rehearsal. You should understand that. We’ve got to check you fit nice onto the firewood-trestle, too.” Overhead light-fixture wavers creaks but holds.

“Let me do a practice stroke,” Bob says, producing heavy-looking, rawhide, metal-tipped cat o’ nine tails.

“Not with that you don’t!” I reach out and pull at it but Dick grasps my hands, yanks them around my back, threads a zip-tie and tautly zip-connects them behind. My shoulders complain at me. “Thwack!”

“No girl should be hit there!” I yell, howling “Aeeeeeee!” A throbbing zings up from my outraged box.

“Let me at her!” Hollers excited Dick grabbing Bob’s whip and whirling fast underhand between my legs. “Thwack!” I pass out halfway, not seeing them or room, only thick red and black starbursts? …Falling?

Margie is in the doorway and says, “I’m sorry, you’re awful loud.” Pushes the two guys door-ward with towels, smoothly yet firmly: “Let Lulu go wash and change. Plenty opportunities for tormenting later...”

Gays loosen my hands and untie my ‘bra’, take it off and remove my fiercely-imbedded crotch-straps. “Not bleeding…” says Bob. I bear red lines in, around my pussy, though. …My breasts swell, misshapen.

“So it couldn’t have been all that painful.” Dick cringes, when furious Margie grabs whip away, waves it.

“You want to try to a few?” Slapping steel whip-ends lightly on Dick’s near thigh. “Swish!”

Dick shakes his head with a wince, moving his leg a little farther away.

Bob regains the whip from Margie. “Wear your robe tonight Margie. Remember you’re one of us now.”

Suddenly a voice, Margie’s, filters up from below a stack of folded white towels atop my sore tits. I’m out of it. Coming around, lying on my back on a bed. “You’ve got soggy money inside you Lulu?” I flop towel-stack to the side off my chest, dizzily recalling Margie’s a nympho and she tackled me over to where I fell backwards crossways onto my bed. I’ve scoot so my head doesn’t bump wall. Bed’s narrow.

“Well that’s your business.” Margie laps my sore pussy. Surprisingly I climax. …Twice! “Argghh! Argghh!”

Over Margie’s head-twirling, I see in a blur, Doctor Harry enters, lowers pants, penetrates his ex-wife Margie from the rear: Thrusts bear her face heavily into my pussy, push Margie to long climaxes twice. “Argghh! …Argghh!” Gasping, huffing, puffing and shuddering right on me. Freddy, Harry’s roommate, climbs up around near the wall, his erect penis, balls hanging on my face, pumps, deep-fills my mouth!

Forcing his ordinary-sized male appendage out I ask, “Please, I’ll deep-throat you, Freddy, if you’ll pull out to come and squirt on my tits, not in my mouth: Male come’s caloric…”

Upside-down Freddy first eats my nipples rather too-hard—he’s a little sadistic being a dentist and all—?

“Don’t bite my tits, Freddy, please…”

He stops chomping and stretching my long pink nipples to pull himself outside and spurts upwards onto my for-once-normal-size-looking, flattish, white breasts: Gooey white-clear male come drops, pink tips…

Contrast is good-looking, yet I can’t say I like it because spurts drip onto my lips anyway. I blow it back out from me. First time I ever did an honest-to-goodness blow job!

[Afterwards]

Suddenly notice Margie’s licking, sucking and lapping my juice-soaked soiled greenback-wad! “That’s not nice.” I force myself to gently-scold. We’re lying face-to-face sideways with our nipples touching most sweetly. Since the doctors left, we’ve tongue-kissed thrillingly. No more until she brushes her teeth real well. “That dough’s grimy, Honey.” I go on softly reproving: Caress both sides her face to soften blow.

“I want to taste you all day so I’d like to hold on to your money.” Margie sucks cash, bucking hips, bust.

‘I’m freaked by this…But what the hey…I’m not in it for the five hundred bucks The Coven pays.’ “You can hang on to it, if you like.” Press my erect nipples hard into hers and flatten my tits. Bumps hips up.

Blinking and lowering her eyes semi-shyly, Margie says, “I’m pregnant and I’m going to re-marry Harry.”

“What?”

“I won’t be playing around with you any longer. I am going straight. So this is like perhaps our last time together? …Sad, isn’t it?” Smiling, eyes welling up with tears for no good reason. Margie’s a neurotic?

“Don’t believe it. Does Doc Harry know?” Caress Margie’s pretty lean face: Wipe lick up her salty tears.

“Naah. How could he? I felt that internal ‘ping’ this morning and I know this is my ‘unsafe’ or fertile time. I don’t pill up lately, feel different, kind of like food-filled, yet not quite…It’s gotta be I’m preggie.”

“Gee I’d be distraught if it were me, Margie. What about your figure, your career?”

“I don’t care about that. Solly will find a new lay. He gives me the Co-Star salary for every film, though I haven’t had more than a bit, in anything since my debut. I give him all the sex he can handle in return. I’ve got three-fifty-thou banked and how much do I need to get by?

...Oh, look at the time, there’s only forty-five minutes till dinner. You got to be fitted to be our table…”

‘If I’d not agreed to do it, I’d just shove the whole thing. I don’t have any problems to compare to this light-brown-head. …Whom I caress, kiss, hug and delight in, only for consolation purposes, of course...’

I get into my clothes reluctantly and I’m really surprised to see Margie nearly going out my open door.

How did she get dressed so quick? She is looking back and smiling. “I have to go Shroud.” [Laughs.]

[Cabin Nine]

Anne-Marie is meanwhile being beaten by a jealous Jo-Anne. Anne-Marie, kneeling, calls Jo-Anne ‘Mistress,’ while the smaller girl hauls off, slaps her face back-forth, turns her face each way every slap.

“Living with that Sacrifice again, huh, you big ugly jerk?” “Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack!”

“No, no, Jo-Anne …I mean, Mistress, I can explain..It’s the money.” Knocks sounded by two stocky men.

“Don’t I have enough skin for my bitch?” “Thuk!” Knees Anne-Marie over, viciously. Answers her door.

It’s the fishermen from the two non-Coven cabins: Offering two hundred apiece to screw the Sacrifice mainly because she’s Lulu the Famous Porno-Queen. They pay head-holding shaky Anne-Marie and exit.

“See?” Says Anne-Marie. Flashing the green. Jo-Anne kicks Anne-Marie in her pussy and punches her twice in the solar plexus. Anne-Marie slides groggy to floor dropping bills, asking “Why?” Nursing belly.

“Cheap slut!”

[At The Coven Dinner, Margie Offers to Lie on the Firewood-Trestle As their Table in Lulu’s Stead]

Margie un-belts her hooded black robe to show she’s naked underneath, leaves it flapping open and says, “Do your worst, you guys don’t scare me!”

Bob points to Ms. Alexis, Sam the Garment-Center tycoon’s wife, and says, “Yet she’ll hurt you, Margie?”

Hooded Alexis brandishes what appears to be a short club. Shakes it toward Margie’s light-brown head.

Margie lies on the firewood-trestle and Bob fixes her arms over her head bent down at elbows, while Dick tape-measures Margie, “Same height within two hairs,” spreads pussy and ties each leg to a corner.

Bob whips Margie’s medium, bright-nipple tits as hard as he can, “Whap! Whap!” Dick hits her stomach with a heavy plastic spanker, ”Thwack! Thwack!” Alexis snaps her club on Margie’s open pussy a half-dozen times, “Thump! Thump! Thump! Thump! Thump! Thump!” Licks lips, prepares to hit clitoris next.

Margie jumps the tiny bit allowed by her taut bonds, screams awfully loud over and over: “Ye-Owww!”

Running up masked Lulu squeals, “No, stop, don’t hit her belly!” Placing her hand to block Alexis’ stroke.

“Why not? She’s volunteered to take your place.” Alexis’ short club is a fake blackjack made of painted plastic, yet it must hurt Margie, since she throws her hips up and bumps them down at each thumping.

“Margie thinks she’s preggers.” Domino-masked mysterious Lulu reluctantly admits, eyes downcast.

Harry steps up, looks at her boobs, already marked but not swollen, and her belly and pussy… Can’t tell…” [Moves his black bag closer, reaches in, pulls out a tester and pokes her cunt.] “Sorry, Baby…”

Leaking-eyed pained victim Margie turns head “It’s your baby Harry-Sweets from what we did just now.”

[Harry’s reading a short thin probe:] “Positive.” Turning to the Black-robed gay guy, “…Let her up, Bob.”

“Well someone’s going to get it, all the same,” fat Sam speaks up from the rear of the group, making his wife Alexis very pleased. “Lulu, take her place.” Bob and Dick busy themselves untying Margie’s ropes.

[Lulu’s Viewpoint, continued]

Sam, a husky, robed and hooded frightening male: Steps in front of me, both big hairy hands gripping my neckline as if to rip. ‘I’m saying, “Please allow me.” He smiles ugly and lifts his hands an inch or so each. I lift my dress’s shoulders up off over my head and stand there in my bra and panties.’ [My head disappears, lift’s pulling up breasts.] ‘It’s a bit demeaning but I don’t care…’ The breeze chills my thighs.

“Strip off the rest… Fool, are we supposed to lay our bowls and plates on clothes?” ‘I’m unhooking my bra, my giant naturals galvanize Sam’s, his wife’s, Bob’s and Dick’s attention when I raise my dress, my tits point and fill back up rounding. My breasts really do sag slightly since I’m built so large. Subside only half an inch: They’re impressed, the gays exchange a look, pursing lips, the others’ eyes, saucers.

Satisfied smug Jo-Anne brings a heavy tray laden with food-filled serving bowls. I’m tied rigidly, I can’t twitch. Jo-Anne brands me with hot bowls and plates pressing on my pussy, boobs, belly and thighs. Writhing. Anne-Marie arrives, chanting and holding a black candle, the worse for wear, a wince when she raises her arms? Too tight—can’t evade burning pain. One shiny bowl on my stomach is cold: ‘Salad?’ In time lined-up Margie arrives muttering while serving herself from my metal-dish-laden body:

“Harry and I are working things out. He wants a paternity test, an amnio and some other test in a month or two. Says ‘it might not be his. Might my baby have been injured?’ Has other ‘mighta’s,’ but if I don’t abort my baby, he’ll re-marry me. I promised that as of tomorrow I’ll reform. We’ve still got tonight!”

Each shrouded, mumbling participant serving self, digs the bowls into me, I suffer heat sinking deeper burns. After forever, the Shrouds sit around mostly eating and not even talking, praying or chanting.

Anne-Marie gets up and waves in the two chunky fat-boy fishermen, shown my bondage-trestle. She says, “You can screw her right here.” Arm-waving, fingers pass, brushing my bush, or do I imagine it?

The men go aside and talk to each other, next, say they’d like to wait. …Until the crowd clears? A couple or maybe two couples retired to the woods . Turning, vaguely see a naked pair screwing back there. …Others disappeared entirely…to a Cabin? Here, eight or ten? Two-four-six-eight…nine… Try to count?

The fishermen are given robes by Sam, who either has a supply or perhaps borrowed discards from our woodsy pair? They wouldn’t notice. Who can say? Alexis is going to torture me she says and Lulu won’t be pretty after that. I shiver, pull at my bonds: Nothing. They did me properly: I’m awfully wide-open.

The first open-shrouded fisherman climbs aboard without nicety of supporting weight on knees or elbows. Very heavy, garlicky and sweaty, with a lot of black wiry chest hair sprouting: Brows, ears and nose. Yecch! Don’t think he gets to his twentieth stroke before he comes? My tits glad, …they couldn’t withstand another squash. It’s too much, but I fake an orgasm for him. “Uh! Uh!” is the best I could do?

The second nameless guy is smoother, a less-heavy yet stocky, fair chap without much body hair that I can see. Of course the shortfall is he’s receding badly on top. I kiss his hairless, bald-forehead to console him. Even though first, he thumbs my nipples, kisses my neck, ears: Soon enough his long, smooth strokes do him in. He’s another quick-shot. He shouldn’t thrust all the way up to his hilt! Balls under-tap at me. “Uh! Uh! Uh!” This time I give Bald-Blondie three fake-orgasm grunts to compensate for his attempted-foreplay, such as it was. …Yet I’ll bet, he didn’t reach thirty strokes… Didn’t count…

Alexis says “Here you go Baby!” Pours melted black candle-wax on my nipples. “Plash!”

“Yeow!” It’s really awful hot. I suffered the red and yellow wax on bondage-film sets…This wax burns hotter, worse! Alexis nods, grins, fills my belly-button, pussy and asshole incandescently! I pass out. After when I rouse awake, see her standing beside me, only my thighs stinging, must have baked last.

Anne-Marie, being pushed forward by Jo-Anne, whips me too hard in attempting to remove my wax! I detect she’s faltering, feels pain in her midsection, since she flinches after each stroke! Contrary to most girls, I’m sensitive around my navel and inner thighs as much as my pussy or tits. So I gasp-cry-scream “Aie!” when her medium-flogger—…why so heavy?—hits my bellybutton, eventually forcing out my plug of black wax! “Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!”

Jo-Anne is guiding Anne-Marie’s arm, helps her fling her flogger onto me. My torturer’s turning green.

“Slave! Hisses Jo-Anne. “Don’t you dare vomit!”

My black wax is only half-removed, when they abruptly stop.

Jo-Anne takes over the praying and chanting, shoving Anne-Marie on a chair, where she woozily slumps tummy-held, while the gay pair climb above her planting a pentagram flag in the tree. One boosts the other’s bottom and they joke. Laughter from the hooded and robed assemblage.

I am untied by Sam while Alexis picks at my wax. Tape-ripping noise is very loud. Alexis hair-raises peeling my thighs! Throbs into, over my pussy, ass! The doctors raise a big pentagram sign above my quivering stretched-table. Shiny, young, green leaf, small twig attached, floats prickly onto my cleavage.

[By A Waterfall: Rushing Noise, Fast-Moving Creek]

Bra-armature-suspended naked by my purpled titties, hands and legs stretched with wrists and ankles shackled and chained around a big rock, my pussy stretched-cut by leathers: I’m iced down from above with freezing flowing water by ice-adding Bob, Dick and grinning Shrouds.

I barely see their hands and arms, by rolling my eyes. Above, perhaps standing on creek rocks or on the creek banks or both—I know they’re not uncomfortable—they pour chipped, cubed and slivered ice into a natural stream-flow waterfall onto a vertical girl-sized rock I’m attached to...

Stream is a natural resource of ‘Leaping Lures’ fish camp. But never meant as a torture. At last I’m in a temperature more than low enough: I’m chilled right through to my bones! Snow clumps melt, drip down me. Drips very cold as they run off my blued, goose-bumped, pallid form. My head is cold from my plastered hair. Shackled, chained hands held back can’t help my washing, draining eyes, nose, ears.

Four types of ice? Shaved, crushed, sliced and cubed. Shaved and crushed ice chills me… Snow gets crusty. …Forms an icy skin layer as it mostly melts. Ice-slices cut my flesh, strike jarringly. The cubes bounce hard and hurt. I see my shrunken, blued nipples harden. My tongue and pussy look like this? Why don’t I numb? I thought I would…? My thighs shudder, ass quakes, big breasts bobble-shiver-shake.

Checking my vitals, furry-Shrouded Doctor Harry says, “Better release Lulu. That’s more than enough… Don’t like look of this.”

Icy-teared Margie helps [fiancé?] Harry unchains, unshackle my wrists, ankles. …Aided, I don’t collapse.

I’m led to bed. I still feel frozen. The Coven really did sacrifice me this time. I can’t climax fully though Margie stays half the night with me. Pumping a greased double-dildo and using every trick she knows, eating my mainly-numb tits and pussy, as frozen as they are. “Argghh!” Margie came, but I gasp only half an orgasm: “Ar…ghooooh”

“Was that a come, Baby?”

“No, at least not anything like I’m used to…”

[In the Darkness]

Hear a whispered discussion at the doorway. Anne-Marie’s leaning over me, one hand held to her belly Napoleonically. “Here’s your balance of $250…You earned it.” Money offered: I’m too weak to reach. Reluctantly adding her dried-crunched-up-clammy cash wad Margie takes it, stuffs it in my purse.

[Fisherman-Awake: Such early-morning it’s still darkish at ‘Leaping Lures’ yet guys are already fishing?]

Harry is helping me into a tiny backseat of his sports car. The top is down.

Margie asks “Did Lulu drive up?”

Anne-Marie mumbles: “No, she came with me.” Hugging herself whether psychologically or cold?

Jo-Anne laughs, “Right, in your trunk!” [Triumphant.]

Harry says “All right, Margie, I’ll need your help at her place. Better come along. I’ll carry you back.”

The wind whips me. I’m strangely cold still. I ask: “Please put the top up?” I’m not sure I’ve ever been too-cold before… I have this opposite thermostat? I like the cold in the winter, even in the summer. If I can afford it, …air-conditioning. “Margie, it is a good thing you felt your ‘ping’ because I’m not feeling anything…I think I rarely felt it, when my egg dropped…Must be because I’ve always been a really big girl. Too insulated. …Too-fat… Anyhow, your kid can take the place of me here…I’m give up my berth…”

“Nonsense don’t say such things, you’ll be fine, Sweetheart. Didn’t you just orgasm? That’s a sure sign of health, isn’t it Harry?”

The doctor looks seriously over at Margie, back at the road. “I can’t think medicine and drive, Baby…”

[At the Penthouse, Hallway]

Blind-eyed stare at each: Doc Harry and Margie help me drunk-walk a hall, leaden-legged, dragging ass.

[Kaput]

[Newspaper Article: “Porno Queen Lulu Allhallo found dead at 22”]

At the ritzy penthouse of skin-flick actress Lulu Allhallo, 22, her nearly-naked body was found by a cleaner this morning. Coroner Ralph Gozzard ruled death by natural causes, heart failure. “There’s signs she overdid partying, although no drugs and little or no alcohol were found: Lulu Allhallo participated in sexual intercourse in the day before her death.” Gozzard says their investigation’s ongoing.

Off the record, Coroner Gozzard replies to a reporter’s query about how Lulu’s body looks: “Not at her best now. But Lulu was the best-looking fresh corpse ever at the morgue.”