Aunt Phoebe's Masturbatorium Ch. 01

There is another world that exists beyond the so-called "civilized" society we all take for granted. This world is no less tangible than its more mundane counterpart, yet most people are completely unaware of its existence. In what follows, I will attempt to recount the history of my journey into the bowels of the Masturbatorium. I do this for the sake of my daughter, who is now old enough to learn about the Sisterhood and its beginnings. Like Virgil, who guided Dante on his sojourn into the Inferno, I hope I shall prove a competent guide to my own child, as she reads about my sexual adventures in the unseen world of the Sisterhood and, in so doing, may be enlightened. – Excerpt from the diary of Holly McKenzie, Supreme Sisterhood Leader, Paris, France 


My first exposure to a real, live penis came when I was eighteen years old and it happened entirely by accident. I was spending several weeks of my summer vacation with my cousin Angelique and her mother, my aunt Phoebe, at their seaside estate in San Diego. Phoebe, who at nineteen had taken a trip to Paris with some girlfriends the month before she was to start college, met and fell in love with a rich, French nobleman named Pierre Anjou. It was a whirlwind romance and she was married about one month later. 

My mother, who was a few years older than Phoebe, and very conservative and proper, thought the entire wedding business was a tragic case of poor judgment on Phoebe's part, as Pierre was almost ten years her senior. Despite my mother's protestations, Phoebe followed her heart and was soon welcomed into the magnificent rich man's castle situated on the northern outskirts of Paris. In the years to come, my father, mother, and I would make a trip to France every other year to visit. The in between years would see Phoebe and Pierre come to San Diego to reciprocate. In the summer of the second year of their marriage, their one and only child, Angelique, was born, a few months before I, myself, took my first precarious view of the outside world.

During these welcome vacation periods, my aunt would throw pool parties and banquets for friends and family that constituted what was to me, a never-ending indulgence for all things sensual. Pierre's rich and powerful friends included politicians, celebrities, rock stars, writers, artists, and anyone who was anyone in the fields of entertainment and business. Phoebe befriended many of these people over the course of time and most of them became some of her closest companions. Many of the women, especially, took a strong liking to her commanding, yet likeable presence, and it was not wasted upon me that, upon many occasions, Phoebe would be the center of attention among a particular group of women who seemed desirous of her patronage. I had no idea what they were discussing, but I later learned that these seemingly casual conversations were merely a cover-up for more interesting tales that focused upon the issues of how to control a man and how to manipulate them for one's own pleasure. 

During one particularly hot, July afternoon, Angelique and I, along with two of her friends, Brittany and Megan, both of whom were eighteen years old, were happily splashing about in my aunt's Olympic-sized pool as one of my aunt's parties was in full swing. Amidst all this innocent fun taking place, the four of us couldn't help but notice one particular black boy who was called "Jimmy" by most people, but who was better known to us and the pop world as Delvin, a twenty-year-old heart throb who was the lead singer in a famous boy's vocal group and who had just had a number one hit on the R&B Top 10.

We had fallen in love with him at first sight. Delvin was tall and handsome with long, wavy brown hair that constantly fell into his sexy brown eyes. When I first laid eyes on him, he was sunning himself on a chaise lounge while Angelique and I were getting ready to dive into the pool. He had nothing on except a very skimpy purple bathing suit and was reading a magazine as he sipped some lemonade. To say that we were enamored of him would be an understatement. All of us tried our very best to get his attention any way we could, and he would often smile at us while he casually regarded, what must have been to him, our totally juvenile antics.

During this particular visit, Pierre had decided to remain in Paris on business, which left Phoebe free to run things completely on her own. This had been welcome news for my cousin, who had always been shown far more latitude by her mother than her father. 

Angelique was the oldest of our group and very precocious. She was almost a head taller than the rest of us and her legs were very shapely and long. Like my aunt, she was very stunning, with long, straight blonde hair that fell to her waist and huge blue eyes that had an unusual hypnotic effect upon you if you stared at them too long. She had always been very curious about sex and the time we spent together invariably involved long discussions about boys and other sexual vagaries. Her physical beauty gave her power over men, so she told me, and one day I would learn how to use my own beauty to my own advantage.

To exemplify this attitude by way of example, my cousin did not waste any time in flaunting her lovely bikini-clad body in front of Delvin. I noticed him look at her several times when he thought no one else was watching, and I saw a look of desire in his eyes that belied his seeming disinterest. My suspicions were confirmed when she decided to quit the pool and move toward the lounge chair next to his, lifting her long legs onto the side of the chair as she methodically began to dry herself off.

Angelique was too preoccupied with getting herself dry to be aware of it, but I noticed that there was a big bulge in his bathing trunks as he stared at her. I saw his hand move toward his genitals in one, quick motion before returning to his side, but it was done so quickly that no one but myself noticed it. And then for one brief instant I saw it: the head of his penis peeking through the fabric of his bathing suit as he slowly, cautiously, raised his legs to a more accommodating position. He then placed a towel around his waist to hide his erection from view. I didn't think anymore about it until later that same night. To my surprise, it was Angelique who brought up the subject.

The four of us were watching TV in the recreation room in the remote east wing of the house, far removed from anyone's prying eyes and ears, when my cousin broached the subject of our combined interest.

"I know who saw Delvin's dick!" she exclaimed suddenly, looking directly at me.

"Did you?" Megan asked me with surprise.

"Of course she did," Angelique replied. "I saw it too. It was really big."

Megan looked at me with a huge grin on her face. Her luminous brown eyes peeking out from behind a healthy shock of short, chocolate-brown hair. "What did you see Holly?"

"She saw his schlong, so what?" Brittany replied casually. She winced as she put some moisturizing lotion on her pale white skin, anxious to avoid the pain of a sun burn. She was a very pretty girl with shoulder-length red hair and hazel eyes. The sun had brought out the freckles on her face and she now stared at them with dismay as she raised a mirror to her face. "I hate these things!"

"I thought I was the only one who saw it," I said. 

"Wrong," Angelique corrected me. "I saw you staring at him while I was drying off and that look on your face was so unbelievable. Like, hey man, what the fuck is this? I had to look."

She threw her head back and laughed and Megan and Brittany soon joined in.

"I've never seen a boy with a hard-on before," I said through their laughter, which caused Angelique to tease me even more.

"Oh, my God, you are so out of it!" my worldly-wise cousin commented. "You've gone out on dates haven't you? It happens to all boys when they get excited."

"You didn't let me finish," I said defensively. "I know boys get hard-ons, but I never saw it just hanging out like that is what I mean."

Megan looked at me inquisitively. "What do you do on a date anyway?"

"She probably reads boys love poems," Brittany offered as she rubbed more lotion onto her hands.

"No, I don't," I said, annoyed. "The guys I go out with are pretty cool. They just don't try stuff with me. I don't know. I think they're afraid to."

"You know why they're afraid?" Angelique returned. "Because you're an ice queen. You're so fussy about everything that a boy can't even put his arms around you without you freaking out."

"That's not true!"

"Yes, it is. Megan and Brittany are younger than you and they have boyfriends."

"Yeah, but Billy isn't as good-looking as Delvin though!" Megan blurted out.

"Neither is Steve, but he's good at certain things!" Brittany added.

All of them laughed except me. I went from face to face, trying to discern the reason for their amusement, which caused them to laugh at me in turn.

"She doesn't know what the fuck we're taking about!" Angelique said to the other girls.

"It's okay Holly," Brittany said in a consoling tone, "we'll give you some lessons."

"Lessons in what?"

My query prompted even more laughter from the jittery girls. I just sat there with the remote control in my hands, switching channels and wishing I could somehow will my body into the TV to escape the torment. 

By their standards I qualified as a prude, but the truth was that I was just an awkward and shy teenager who had been reared in a somewhat sexually repressive household. And I was yet to obtain the sexual confidence these girls seemed to take for granted. In a few moments their laughter subsided and Angelique moved beside me.

"You know, you and I look a lot alike," she said, staring into my face. "The only difference is that you have chestnut-brown hair and green eyes. And your nose is smaller than mine."

"So what?" I said.

"So, we're both pretty."

"And so am I," Brittany said pointedly.

"All of us are beautiful," Megan affirmed.

Angelique continued to look me over. "In fact, I would say that you are probably the best looking one among us."

To this comment the other two girls raised serious objections, but Angelique would hear none of it.

"No, no," she said sternly. "Let's be honest, all right? Holly's got the most beautiful face among the four of us. But she doesn't know how to use her looks to her advantage. We're going to have to fix that."

At that point my aunt entered the room and invited the four of us onto the patio for a sumptuous garden dinner. I wondered what Angelique meant by her last comment, but I was too hungry to give it much thought.

When the four of us arrived at the dinner table, we found Delvin sitting with a very attractive Spanish girl who was, herself, an up and coming pop singer we had seen on a recent music video. Her name was Maria Rodriguez, and she was a very stunning girl with large brown eyes shaped like almonds. Her long, auburn hair fell loosely about her shoulders and she spoke in low, soft tones punctuated by outbursts of laughter whenever Delvin attempted to make a joke. As we sat down at the table she gave the four of us suspicious-looking glances, as though she expected her prize to be stolen at any moment from under her very nose.

The picnic tables were arranged end to end across the length of the patio, forming one long banquet table that managed to accommodate about eighty people. My aunt sat at the head of the table on the end adjacent to the sliding doors that opened into the kitchen, presumably to make it easier for her to order and direct the servants as they waited upon us. Although many of the people sitting at the table were among the ranks of the rich and famous, I had, by this time, become accustomed to celebrity and was not in the least intimidated by it. In fact, I found it highly entertaining that many of these so-called "artistes" often deferred to my aunt in matters concerning personal issues, and even tried to emulate her behavior on occasion. Angelique shared my disdain for some of the more affected among them, often referring to anyone who patronized her mother as "sucker-ups" or "wanna-be's".

In due time dinner was served, and for a short while the multitude fell silent as everyone focused his or her attention upon devouring the savory feast of roast lamb and lemon potatoes. My aunt surveyed the motley brood of diners like a mother hen supervising her flock. To her immediate right and left were two of her close friends and business associates, Justine and Estelle. Both women were slightly older than my aunt and both were very attractive brunettes who managed my aunt's affairs from their office in Los Angeles. Maria and Delvin sat a few seats further down from these women and Angelique, Brittany, Megan, and I sat directly across from Delvin. I paid little attention to what was going on further down the table, preferring to focus my attention on my aunt and Delvin. My aunt had waited until I placed a forkful of roast lamb into my mouth before deciding to embark on a series of questions.

"So, Holly," she began, "I spoke to your mother a little while ago and she tells me that she and your father will be arriving here in two weeks. That gives you a whole fourteen days to screw around and then you'll have to be on your best behavior again."

My aunt laughed in that light-mannered way of hers, her lips slightly upturned into a smile. She had briefly stopped over at our house when she had first arrived in Los Angeles, and plans had been made that I would spend the first two weeks with my aunt with my mother and father joining us during the second two weeks of my vacation. My aunt, a far more liberated soul than my mother, allowed me free reign over my own affairs and encouraged me to live life to its fullest degree and to take pride in my womanhood. She knew that my mother would not approve of some of her novel ideas concerning the proper rearing up of children, but it did not prevent her from encouraging me to experience life in all its manifestations. To my aunt Phoebe, life was a banquet—to be savored and enjoyed every moment of the day. A true hedonist, yet a woman of uncompromising principle, she was the model for all that I would strive to become on my own journey through this maze we call life.

"I'm not screwing around aunt Phoebe," I said, taking several seconds to reply as I gulped down a portion of my food.

"Well, you should be!" she said laughing. "What the hell are we here for anyway? Right everybody?"

Even the people at the far end of the table, who could not have possibly heard a word she said, nodded in agreement once they noticed the rest of us raise a roar of approval. 

"You listen to your aunt, little girl," said a middle-aged man several seats down from me who had won an Oscar the previous year for best director. "The unexplored life ain't worth livin'."

"That's 'unexamined life'," my aunt said, correcting him. "Attributed to Socrates, I believe."

"You got that right mom," Angelique said without looking up from her plate.

My aunt stared at her daughter for a moment and then burst out laughing. 

"Do you see my reflection in that dish? I'm over here for heaven's sake. When you speak to someone, look at them!"

"She's too busy stuffing her face!" I blurted out.

Angelique did indeed look ridiculous with her mouth stuffed full of food. She was by far anorexic, but she did tend to go on eating binges now and then with periods where her food intake was practically nonexistent. As she looked at her mother, the two of them started to laugh hysterically, and soon everyone else joined in.

During the course of the evening, Maria managed to let everyone know that she was officially dating Delvin, and she accentuated that statement by showing everyone a bracelet he had recently given her to commemorate their union. Maria took great pride in showing off the diamond and emerald trinket to those few people nearest to the couple, delighting in the exclamations of wonder as several people got out of their chairs to take a closer look at the shimmering jewelry. Delvin seemed to take all of this in stride, but I could sense that he was a bit annoyed that she had chosen to make such a big deal out of something he seemed to consider an unofficial engagement. I watched his dark eyes flash with a slight tinge of repressed anger as she waved the expensive toy in the faces of those around him. At one point he looked at me and smiled and I felt a wave of sudden, irrepressible warmth course through my body as if someone had given me a shot of brandy on a cold night. It was then that I wished I had been in Maria's place, and that it was me, and not her, who was the recipient of his loving attentions.

"Okay," he said to Maria, "it's time to put the toys away."

She looked hurt as she withdrew her hand towards her chest but she said nothing. Her other hand dropped down out of sight.

At that same moment, Angelique's fork fell onto the floor. As she bent down to pick it up, I heard her snicker.

Megan and Brittany were the first to get the news; then it filtered down to me. Brittany, who was sitting directly to my left, whispered excitedly into my ear.

"Maria's giving Delvin a handjob!"

Angelique stared at me with eyes wide open, wearing a silly grin on her face. She quickly shook her head up and down as she saw the questioning look on my face.

I watched Maria's left arm, and it did indeed seem a little busy doing something. Delvin, too, looked a bit preoccupied, as if he were trying to focus upon maintaining his composure under difficult circumstances. At last, he gently grabbed her by the arm and moved it away. She went back to eating as if nothing had happened.

After dinner had ended, both Delvin and Maria entertained the group by singing some of their recent hit songs for everyone's enjoyment. The party continued for several more hours and I had a chance to meet and talk with quite a few interesting individuals, one of which was a beautiful, middle-aged French woman named Lenore who had recently befriended my aunt and who had accompanied her on the trip from Paris. 

Lenore Marceau was somewhat of an enigma to me. My aunt had never mentioned her background to anyone and no one asked. She was a small woman, standing about 5' 3" in height, and was possessed of a commanding presence that belied her small physical stature. She had very penetrating blue eyes that seemed to peer into your very soul, and long, brown hair streaked with gray that gave her a somewhat austere appearance. I had seen her earlier that day by the pool, offering my aunt advice on how to control and manipulate men. As naive as I was about sex and the power struggles that occur between men and women, something in her voice and mannerisms told me that she would have no trouble controlling any man she wanted. 

"A woman holds great power over a man," she said to me with a gracious smile. "And a woman who knows how to use that power can have anything she wants."

Before going to bed she kissed me lightly on the cheek and told me that I was a "very dear child." She also predicted that she and I would meet again sometime in the near future. Exactly when and under what circumstances she would not divulge. 

After saying her goodbyes to several people, she and my aunt walked out together into the kitchen arm in arm, laughing. At one point my aunt turned and looked at me and nodded her head in silent agreement in response to something Lenore had said. During the days that followed I would learn a lot more about this intriguing woman, but it would be another year before I would again have the pleasure of her intimate company.

My aunt had arranged it so that the recreation room was converted into a makeshift bedroom containing four twin beds to accommodate my three companions and myself. Angelique had wanted it this way, and I was to soon learn why she had made this unusual request.

It seemed that both Delvin and Maria had been invited to stay for several days, so the room next to the one Angelique had chosen as our mutual bedroom was outfitted as a guest room, replete with a king-size bed. My aunt, Justine, Estelle, and Lenore would be taking the upstairs bedrooms, far away from us. And this is exactly how Angelique had planned it. It was during this particular evening that I was to become privy to the innermost workings of my cousin's perverse and capricious mind.

After all the guests had left and the servants had been dismissed, Angelique and I said goodnight to my aunt Phoebe and the other overnight guests and then disappeared into the recreation room-turned-bedroom where Megan and Brittany were already engaged in a hot discussion. The topic: Delvin.

"Delvin's black right? So black dudes have bigger dongs!" Brittany insisted as she and Megan watched us walk into the room. "Ask Angelique."

"Is that true?" Megan asked my cousin.

"Yup. Everyone knows that except for you and Holly."

"Oh yeah?" I said. "And since when did you become an expert?"

"She has pictures, don't you Angelique?" Brittany teased.

Without answering, my cousin walked over to a nearby closet and withdrew a small brown cardboard box stuffed with photos. She threw a bunch of them on her bed and invited us to take a look.

"Where did you get this stuff?" I asked her.

"Off the Internet. Go ahead. Take a look."

It was the first time I had ever seen hardcore pornography, and I was both shocked and amused by what I saw. Many of the pictures showed women with multiple partners engaged in various sexual acts. Not only was I amazed that people could have sex in such a variety of positions, I was fascinated to find that most of the content was interracial, usually a white woman with one or several well-endowed black men. A lot of the pictures featured clothed women with nude males. Judging by the photos, Brittany's assertion seemed correct: black men did have, on the whole, bigger penises than white men. And although I could not tell how large Delvin's penis was when I caught a glimpse of it earlier that day, I had to conclude that it was very possible that it was no less impressive than the ones I was now observing.

"Look at this one," Brittany said with a giggle as she passed one of the pictures toward me. "He shot off right in her face!"

"Shot off?" I asked.

"He ejaculated on her face," Angelique explained. "You know, he shot his sperm on her."

"I want to see," Megan said, pulling the photo away.

Her mouth dropped open and then opened wider as she let out an enormous groan.

"Oh, that's so gross!" she said shoving the picture back at me.

"It's not gross," Angelique said. "It's sexy."

"I wonder what it tastes like?" Brittany asked.

"Probably horrible," said Megan.

"You've never tasted it so how do you know?" Angelique said with a shrug.

"Brittany's right though," I said, thumbing through the photos. "These black guys are really hung."

The girls laughed.

"That word sounds funny coming from you," Angelique said.

"I'm not as naïve as you think I am," I said in my own defense. "I don't know as much about sex as you or Brittany, but I'm not a total waste."

We looked through every photo my cousin threw our way until our sexual education was suddenly interrupted by laughter emanating from the guest room next to ours. There was no mistaking the voices. It was Delvin and Maria. Both of them sounded drunk and they were singing loudly to each other.

Angelique quickly threw the magazines back in the box and returned it and its prurient contents to the closet. She then told us to be quiet as she pressed her face to the wall adjoining the guest room. 

"Holly, there's a flashlight in the top drawer of the bureau. Get it out," she said in a hushed voice.

I withdrew the flashlight and awaited further instructions.

"Do you see these?" Angelique said to all of us as she pried away a small piece of wood from the wall. "The wall is made out of pine and has all these little holes covered up with these pieces of wood. Just pull them out and you can look into their room. But be quiet or they might hear you."

There were several of these circular indentations in the wood and each of us found one to peer through. Angelique then told me to shut the lights and turn on the flashlight.

"Keep the light pointed at the floor," my voyeuristic cousin told me. "Don't point it at the wall or they might see it."

I obediently followed her directives and left the flashlight resting on its head on the floor, providing just enough illumination so that we could find our way around the room. I was lucky in that there were actually two holes side by side from which I could peer with both eyes into the rather well lit room next door.

"I don't see them," Megan said disappointed.

"He's probably fucking her on the couch," Angelique said. "Yup. There's a pair of legs sticking out."

"Well, I don't see anything!" Megan complained.

"That's because of your angle," Brittany said. "I can't see them either."

I could, however, discern the two lovers quite nicely from my vantage point. Delvin was sitting on the sofa and Maria was sitting on top facing him. They were both completely naked.

"Oh, my God!" I said, trying to keep my voice low. "You have to see this!"

"What? What?" Angelique said as she hurriedly pushed me away from my spot.

From the next room we could hear Maria's moans of pleasure. My cousin fought hard to suppress a giggle.

"Her tits are bouncing all over his face," she said with delight.

"I want to see it!" Brittany moaned as she pushed Angelique away.

My cousin reluctantly gave up her position and went back to her own little viewing area, still able to see much of what was going on. Megan was impatient to get a glimpse of the action and finally managed to pry Brittany away. 

"Oh, wow!" Megan said. "Her boobs are so big!"

"I know," Angelique replied. "It was hard to tell with that dress she was wearing tonight. Poor Delvin looks like he's suffocating!"

I allowed Megan to continue looking for a few more seconds and then moved back into position. I watched Delvin's thighs move up and down in tandem as Maria's lovely body rose and fell in unison to his thrusts. I had never seen anything like it.

"This is really great!" Brittany said, her face glued to the wall.

We watched the two of them fuck for several more minutes and I noticed that Angelique was getting turned on from it all. More than once her hand traveled to her crotch and she firmly pressed both legs against her flattened palm making a soft, moaning sound.

"They're moving to the bed!" I exclaimed, as the two naked figures passed before my field of vision.

The bed was situated such that it provided us with an unobstructed view of their lovemaking. Up to this point none of us could see Delvin's penis very well because of the way he had positioned himself on the bed. Even now, as he methodically grinded his hips against Maria's ass, it was difficult to get a glimpse of his erection. We stood there, our faces pasted hard against the wall, silently looking on in rapt fascination as Delvin's motions grew more frantic. Soon, Maria started shouting something in Spanish.

"What's wrong with her?" I asked Angelique.

"She's having an orgasm you twit!" she replied without removing her eyes from the scene.

It was a long, drawn out wail that emanated from the twenty-year-old beauty as she reached the height of her climax. As she came, she buried her face in the pillow to stifle her screams, but they were loud nonetheless, lasting for almost a full minute before she collapsed onto the bed as though drained of all her energy. As she lowered herself onto the bed, Delvin's penis popped out of her and it suddenly became visible for all of us to see.

"Look at that!" Brittany exclaimed.

"I can't believe it!" Megan remarked. "It's like a huge, black kielbasa!"

"Keep your voices down you idiots or they'll hear you!" Angelique rebuked them with a harsh whisper. "Shit, he's fucking big!" she added after a short pause.

I had never come face to face with a penis in my life. I had felt one once, through the boy's pants, but that was the extent of my knowledge of the male sexual organ. For me to now be confronted with this enormous, naked specimen, even from this far away, made me cry out in utter astonishment.

"It's...it's got to be at least two feet long!" I blurted out.

All the girls struggled to suppress a laugh.

"No guy's schlong is that big!" Brittany assured me. "He's about 9 or 10 inches at the most."

"How can you tell?" Megan asked.

"I've seen my older brother when he gets an erection. It's about the same size as his."

This admission of voyeurism invited a comment from Angelique.

"You've seen your brother's wiener?" 

"Only a couple of times," Brittany confessed. "He goes into the bathroom to masturbate a lot."

"How do you know that's what he does?" I asked.

"I know because he's always got one of those porno magazines in his hand, that's how," she explained. "And one time I actually caught him at the computer jerking off to some naked women on one of those adult Web sites."

"You caught him?" Angelique said, surprised.

"He forgot to lock his bedroom door and I just kind of, you know, walked in and there it was."

"He must have been shocked," Megan remarked.

"He was," Brittany replied. "He was really mad at me for a long time and now he always keeps his door locked."

While this brief verbal interlude was transpiring, Maria had managed to get Delvin to lie down on the bed. Fortunately for us, she had moved her body behind his, giving us a completely unobstructed view of his nakedness and his enormous 10-inch penis, which stood up stiff and straight like a flagpole.

I watched fascinated as she tugged at his huge erection, playing with it and teasing it in preparation for its entrance into her waiting mouth. Delvin lay there quietly watching as her agile fingers encircled his towering shaft, slowly guiding the head onto her outstretched tongue. He jumped as soon as he felt her hot breath upon his agitated tool, and whimpered softly as he prepared himself for the oral onslaught.

"Oh my god, she's going to give him a blowjob!" Angelique squealed.

In a matter of seconds Delvin's entire penis had disappeared down Maria's accommodating throat. The four of us reacted with simultaneous exclamations as we watched the girl's head descend until her nose touched the tip of his pubic hair. She lingered there for a moment and then raised her head up slowly, gracefully, swirling her tongue around the entire length of him on her journey upward. Keeping both hands interlocked around the base of his shaft, she repeated these exact same motions many times over, her bobbing becoming faster on each successive trip down toward his nether regions. It was not long before Delvin was bucking his hips wildly up and down in response to Maria's forceful blowjob.

"He's going to cum soon," Angelique warned us.

"I'll bet you he shoots off in her mouth!" Brittany exclaimed.

I could see Delvin's huge, swollen balls rise up toward the base of his shaft as Maria wrapped her lips around the tip of his penis, both of her hands furiously pumping him. In a matter of seconds his entire body froze as he was gripped by a powerful orgasm. Maria's hands flew up and down his glistening pole and I saw her neck muscles begin to contract as he began to launch spurt after spurt of hot semen down her throat. We all looked on intently as Maria swallowed one load after another, never removing her mouth from his climaxing tool.

To my left came a low moan. I quickly looked away to find Angelique with her right hand buried in her crotch. I looked again at the duo in the next room. Delvin was still ejaculating and Maria was keeping pace with him. Her lips were now dripping with saliva and semen, some of which fell onto Delvin's pubic hair, forming little puddles of silver gray. Only when his balls had been fully emptied, did Maria release her mouth from his penis. She licked her lips as though she had just eaten a tasty snack. Delvin rolled over onto his side, out of breath.

"God, that was so hot!" Angelique said excitedly as she drew away from the wall. Her eyes were positively sparkling with lust, and I knew that she had experienced an orgasm of her own.

Brittany, too, had a look of immense satisfaction on her face, but for a different reason. 

"I told you he was going to cum in her mouth didn't I?" she said to us.

"But you didn't think she was going to swallow it all did you?" Megan said with a grimace.

Angelique looked somewhat disappointed. "I wanted to see it shoot," she said.

"Why?" I inquired.

"Because it's so sexy. I love to watch a guy spurt like a fountain."

"Do all of them do it?"

"Some do. I have some stuff on DVD. I'll show you tomorrow."

"Oh, come on," Brittany whined. "Let's see them now."

"No," Angelique said. "We have to get to sleep. We have a big day ahead of us tomorrow."

Brittany and Megan continued to pester Angelique for a few more minutes before finally acquiescing to my cousin's demands. But Angelique was right. The four of us were going to spend the day in downtown San Diego and we were going to need our rest. At that moment, however, I doubted I would get much sleep after what I had just witnessed. In fact, all of us were so excited by what we had just seen, that we made it the topic of our discussion for another full hour before we all finally fell asleep. Having never seen a man "spurt like a fountain," I was, of course, intrigued by Angelique's comment. Little did I know then that I was going to watch, first-hand, some of the finest displays of male ejaculation my young, inexperienced eyes had ever seen. And this would all happen within the next few days, courtesy of my provocative cousin, and, unbeknownst to me at the time, my even more provocative aunt Phoebe.


The following morning, Angelique, Brittany, Megan, and I had a leisurely breakfast on the lanai with my aunt, Lenore, Justine, and Estelle. My aunt had the entire day planned out for us for reasons she was reluctant to divulge, but which appeared to me to be an attempt to get us out of the house so that she could spend some private time with her friends. This was only an assumption of my part, but it seemed, as the days wore on, that she spent an inordinate amount of time with these three women, especially Lenore, and she seemed to take our imminent departure with less than a hint of delight.

"You girls are going to love the new mall downtown," she began, as she polished off a second helping of scrambled eggs. "Several boutiques and shoe stores just opened up...there's a theater there too... I'm sure you'll find tons of things to do."

"I want to buy some new jeans...and shoes too," Angelique said.

"Go ahead," my aunt replied happily. "You have the entire day to do whatever you like. All I ask is that you don't give Jake a hard time. He'll chauffer you around wherever you want to go, but his orders are to have you all back here by 10:00 PM. Do you understand me Angelique?"

"Understood, mom," my cousin replied dryly.

"I mean it. If you give him any trouble, I'll hear about it."

"They'll have a great time," Justine said, looking at me. "San Diego is such an interesting city."

Lenore and Estelle quickly agreed.

"It's simply beautiful," Lenore said.

"And so much to see," Estelle added.

I could not help but feel that my aunt and her friends were anxious to see the four of us embark upon this day trip without delay. This feeling was verified when, just having finished breakfast, Jake announced that the limousine was ready and we could depart at any time. I stole a quick glance at Lenore, who gave my aunt a sly wink as she raised a glass of orange juice to her lips.

"You girls don't want to be late now do you?" she said to us. "After all, who wants to be stuck in the house with us old gals on a beautiful day like this?"

"Absolutely," my aunt replied. "Well, don't keep Jake waiting. Go on, go on."

She motioned for Jake to escort us out, but just as we started to leave she turned to Angelique.

"By the way, what happened to Delvin and Maria? They knew breakfast was being served at 9:00 AM."

Angelique looked sheepishly at her mother while the rest of us tried to maintain our composure, knowing full well that the two lovers were probably still fast asleep after last night's sexual escapade.

"I think they're still sleeping mom," my cousin said with a grin.

"Maybe we should get them up," Justine said. "They're doing a music video shoot in LA this afternoon."

My aunt directed one of the servants to wake up the couple. It seemed to me as though she had planned to have everyone out of the house except for her own friends, though I had no idea why.

The four of us were still trying to suppress our giggles, but my aunt wasn't fooled by our little act. She was too intuitive to be taken in by the impromptu performance of four highly impressionable teenage girls.

"And what time did you girls get to bed last night?" she asked her daughter.

"Around midnight," Angelique replied. "But I heard Delvin and Maria come in very late."

"How late?"

"Around 2:00 AM I think."

Both Megan and Brittany were fighting hard to keep themselves from laughing, but it was useless. In a few moments Angelique and I were laughing right along with them.

"Oh go on, the four of you!" my aunt said, shooing us off with a wave of her hand. "I'm not going to ask what happened. I don't want to know. Just get the hell out of the house and have a great time ladies!"

Jake drove us to the mall in less than an hour and dropped us off by the entrance to the movie theater. He told us that he had to have some work done on the vehicle and that he would return for us around 9:00 PM. We were to meet him where he had left us. With that he drove off.

The mall was enormous. It was a two-tiered affair with a central atrium that was the size of a football field, replete with a myriad of shops, kiosks, and booths full of lively salespeople. We had decided to catch the 12:00 PM movie, which was a special double feature event to celebrate the opening of the new mall. After having made a full circuit of both floors and almost every clothing shop therein, and with each of us holding a shopping bag full of items, we headed for the theater. Suddenly, I did not feel well.

"Call Jake," I said to Angelique.

"What for?" she replied, as we stood in line for our tickets.

"She's sick, can't you see that?" Brittany said to my cousin. 

"Are you?" Angelique asked.

"Yes, I don't feel good. Please call him."

Angelique tried several times to call Jake from her cell phone but to no avail. She then tried from a pay phone but got no results either.

"There must be something wrong with his cell phone," she said.

"Call for a cab," Megan said, looking at me with concern.

"I have to sit down," I said, feeling a bit faint.

The girls followed me to a nearby bench and I sat down. I couldn't seem to get warm.

"What's wrong with you anyway?" Angelique asked as she made the call.

"I don't know...I just feel very weak."

"Her face is turning white," Brittany said. 

"Well, don't puke here, please," Angelique said with a frown. 

In about ten minutes a cab arrived and I was on my way back to my aunt's house. None of the girls offered to escort me, as they did not want to miss seeing the movie. I thought it highly selfish of all of them and to my surprise I found myself feeling a bit resentful at their lack of consideration. The cab driver felt bad for my plight and offered me a candy bar, which I politely refused. 
"Nothing like chocolate to cheer you up," he said, taking a bite of the candy he had just offered to me.

When the taxi pulled up to the front door I paid the driver and carried my bag full of clothes and shoes to the front door. I noticed that there were several cars parked in the driveway, which I had not seen upon leaving earlier in the day. I did notice, however, that Delvin's car was gone. 

I was just about to ring the doorbell when I remembered that Angelique had given me my own key to the house. Upon entering I neither saw nor heard anyone, and so I made my way directly to the bedroom where I immediately threw myself onto the bed, shaking with cold. I must have slept only a short while before I was forced to get up and run to the bathroom where I remained for several minutes violently puking into the toilet. The vomiting must have done me good because I soon began to feel much better.

Feeling a bit hungry, I decided to make my way to the kitchen and make myself some toast. I did not know where my aunt or any of her friends were, which was odd since there were so many cars out in front of the house. After eating I decided to see where these mysterious people might be. 

Going from room to room I found no one. Even the servants were missing. At last I made my way to my aunt's study: a huge Victorian-style room filled with a vast amount of books that were stacked on shelves reaching up to the ceiling. Being an avid reader, I spent a good amount of time there, sifting through arcane titles and old, moldy tomes that seemed to belong to another era. Some of these titles I recognized, but most of them were obscure. Amidst the more familiar works like Pygmalion and Great Expectations, I saw some odd titles that made little sense to me, such as The Art and Science of Female Domination, and Masturbatory Techniques of the Dominatrix. I thumbed through these books with burning curiosity, and was amazed to find that they had inscriptions on the inside front cover which bore my aunt's name—both books having been given to her by someone with the initials, L. M. I later learned that the initials stood for Lenore Marceau, my aunt's most recent and eager confidant. 

Neither books contained any pictures, and the arcane and unfamiliar text only raised more questions in my mind than they answered. However, one inescapable fact was revealed to me despite all the confusing jargon: that female domination of men was the true destiny of all women. To my young mind, the idea that one person—a woman—would strive to dominate another person—a man—was a concept completely foreign to me. I, myself, did not view men or women as either superior or inferior to one another, but rather as complimentary and harmonious facets of the same human equation. And even though I hold this very belief even to this day, I also love the power and control I have over men, and have managed to integrate the philosophy of the Sisterhood into my life in such a way that I have found a satisfactory balance between my fetish and my normal routine. However, my aunt's friends were creatures of another breed, and I was soon to learn and experience just how far the tenets of their philosophy of male domination were to be applied.

In one corner of this vast room was a magnificent brown leather chair into which I sat pouring over several of these unfamiliar books. I don't know what drew me to them but the very uniqueness of the idea of female superiority somehow fascinated me. In a world traditionally dominated by men, the idea that a woman could be in charge appealed to me on some level. I didn't think the relegation of male power to their supposedly lesser kin would ever be a tenable prospect, but the concept intrigued me nonetheless. At some point as I ruminated over these ideas, I fell asleep. 

I don't know exactly how long I slept, but I awoke to the sound of voices coming from the hallway just outside the study. I did not want to be found with these books in my hands, which would have been tantamount to an invasion of my aunt's privacy as well as an admission of untrustworthiness, so I quickly rose from my chair and hastily replaced them on the shelves. 

The voices were getting closer. Seeing that I had little time to act, I ran into a small closet fitted with louver doors and closed them quickly behind me. The wooden slats in the door were large enough so that I could see into the study without much difficulty. Several seconds elapsed and then I heard my aunt's voice inviting her guests into the study.

"I think this will do nicely," she said as she threw open the doors admitting herself and about a dozen other women into the room.

I soon realized that the entire entourage must have come from the garden, where my aunt usually entertained her guests with an outdoor brunch when the weather was pleasant. Most of these women were professional types varying in age from twenty to sixty. I recognized Justine and Estelle among them, but other than them, my aunt, and Lenore, everyone else was unknown to me. All of them were dressed impeccably in some form of business attire or another, and the effect of their combined presence was such that I felt I was attending a board meeting at some huge corporation. Each woman taken singly would have been intimidating enough, but as a whole they formed a formidable entity of female power and intellect that seemed to command obedience and respect.

Behind this group of women followed two young men, who were quickly instructed by my aunt to go into an adjoining room and wait until they were called. I had never seen these two men before and I had no idea what their purpose might be in this company of women. My aunt herself was dressed in a simple black dress with matching heels: her only jewelry a stunning pearl necklace. With her silky, platinum blonde hair reaching to her waist, she looked absolutely spectacular.

"I want to assure everyone that all the servants have been dismissed," my aunt said to the group. "My daughter and her friends are gone for the day and there is no one in the house but us and the two gentlemen in the next room. Please help yourselves to drinks at the bar."

The women wasted no time in serving themselves alcoholic beverages. They appeared to me to be the type of people who enjoyed working hard and playing even harder, judging by the way the plied their liquor. After Lenore and my aunt procured drinks for themselves, the older woman took my aunt by the arm and led her to the window overlooking the west lawn—only a few feet from where I was hiding—and spoke to her in hushed tones. My angle of view was obstructed, so all I could do was listen.

"Are you absolutely positive that no one knows what's going on here?" Lenore asked my aunt.

"Relax Lenore," my aunt reassured her. "I've told you twice already, it's all been taken care of. Don't you trust me?"

Lenore smiled. "Yes, of course, of course dear. Don't mind me. I'm not used to holding initiations under these types of circumstances. If your daughter..."

"Don't worry about her. Angelique is very clever. That's why I had to be nonchalant about her and the girls going away for the day. If I made too much of it, she would have suspected something. In any event, Jake is keeping an eye on things for me."

"I hope he's trustworthy."

"He is. I assure you. Now please relax and enjoy yourself. I'm dying to see what all this is about."

"I only mention it because if someone should crash our little party and learn what's really going on...well, in that case we'd have to do what our predecessors did."

"And what was that?"

"Eliminate them."

I did not know at the time that Lenore was only joking. But not being able to see their facial expressions, and hearing only their cackling laughter, made me suddenly petrified that should I be discovered, I might end up on the missing persons list. Unconsciously, I drew back further into the closet and kept my body covered over with some hanging coats, only my head timidly peeking out from behind them. The thought of my aunt having anything to do with people who would possibly resort to such murderous practices made me shiver. I found the thought incongruous, knowing that my aunt was a kind person at heart, and Lenore herself gave me no indication of any strain of hidden cruelty. Nonetheless, I burrowed deeper into my makeshift den and tried to pretend that I had become invisible.

Seating was arranged such that a large circle was left open in the center of the room, allowing the guests to enjoy a ringside view of the proceedings. There was much excitement and discussion going on amongst them, and it took several minutes before the group finally settled down, and only after Lenore was forced to override my aunt's initial plea for quiet. 

"My, my, my!" she began, surveying the women around her. "What's gotten into you girls today?"

For a woman whom I had assumed to be in her middle to late fifties, Lenore had the body of a woman twenty years younger. Her beauty was not so much derived from her pleasing physical attributes, although considerable, but rather from some inner emanation of spirit that made her entire face seem to sparkle and glow as if there were a fire kindled somewhere deep inside her. Most women her age would not have worn their hair long and flowing, yet she did, and it did not detract from her loveliness but rather added to the overall perception of beauty. The light brown curls, with faint streaks of gray, adorned her face like a Giordano fresco, and the penetrating blue eyes were bright and alert to any nuance around her. She wore a three-piece business suit comprised of a black skirt and blazer with a tan blouse upon which was fastened a sterling silver butterfly brooch. She was one of the shortest women in the room, yet her very presence commanded respect, and her guests showed this to her with an abundant display of affection. With the crowd now quiet, she dug one of the heels of her shoes into the carpet as if to pivot herself in any direction at any moment in anticipation of their questions. 

"Okay, what's the deal, Lenore? Are we going to admit Phoebe or not?" asked a young, tall, and attractive twenty-something brunette with incredibly long legs.

"We must forgive Janet her bluntness. She is very young and has not yet become accustomed to her new position of power within the Sisterhood," replied Lenore with a light-hearted air. "But since the cat is now out of the bag, yes, Phoebe Anjou, I am proud to say, has been voted in. Welcome Phoebe!"

As Lenore swung her body around to face my aunt, the entire group broke into a round of applause. My stunned aunt sat there beaming with joy upon her acceptance into the clandestine group that Lenore referred to as the "Sisterhood." Both Estelle and Justine rose simultaneously to congratulate her by each shaking one of her hands and kissing her cheek. My aunt was overcome with emotion.

"This is a great honor," she said to the group. "I hope I shall be able to live up to the fine tradition established by Sister Marceau and those who have preceded her."

To this statement the assemblage of ladies cheered wildly. 

"I have no doubt that you will, my dear Phoebe," said Lenore with such pride that it might have been her own daughter who had been so honored.

In the course of the next half hour I came to learn a great deal about the Sisterhood and the reason for the meeting I was now forced by circumstances to secretly witness. 

The beginnings of this covert alliance of women began during the French Revolution when a young noblewoman of King Louis' court, whose name was Yvette Anjou—a direct forebear of Phoebe's husband Pierre—was commissioned by the King to form a small group of women to help the government weed out and destroy the leaders of the Revolution. The reconnaissance of these women proved so successful that many would-be usurpers were overthrown, and the King rewarded his ladies by lavish gifts of money and property. However, once the Revolution had begun in earnest and King Louis' life was imperiled, he betrayed his loyal "Sisterhood" by placing the blame squarely upon their heads for the execution of many of the rebels' most powerful leaders. In effect, he withdrew his protection and support, effectively rendering the group vulnerable to attack by those whom they had once acted against with impunity. Many of these noble women died at the hands of their enemies, and later some were executed along with the King when his regime had fallen, but a few escaped by virtue of subterfuge and quick thinking. One of these was Yvette. Now possessed of a healthy distrust of men, she sought out other powerful and competent women in an attempt to form a network of like-minded associates who would never again bow to the threat of male domination. Over the ensuing centuries, chapters of this organization sprouted up all over the world, although the original impetus for membership, i.e., a genuine hatred and distrust for all things male, became diffused and watered down to the point where the only singular reason for joining was a desire to control men in any way possible for the amusement and pleasure of the woman. The women sitting in the room now were each heads of their own chapters located in various countries around the world. 

I soon came to learn that the Sisterhood was virtually "invisible" to all but its own adherents, its secrets and traditions zealously guarded, and its operations completely covert. Admission into its ranks was by recommendation only, and almost always by a high-ranking member. My aunt couldn't have done much better: Lenore was the Supreme leader of the organization, headquartered in Paris, and had been the guiding force behind my aunt's elevation to Sisterhood status. 

As she sat there now with tears of joy streaming down her face, I, too, became excited for my aunt Phoebe, and almost wished I could walk out of the closet and shake her hand. Of course, I could do nothing of the kind. Fearful enough of my identity being somehow revealed, I was even more fearful of what my ultimate fate might be if I was discovered to have been privy to the conversation I had just heard. Would I be tortured or killed? Maybe offered as a ritual sacrifice for ease dropping on their secret meeting? I trembled as these thoughts raced through my mind.

"If there is no objection," Lenore began, " I should like to bring out the men now."

"How many do we have today?" an elegant, forty-something woman asked.

"There's two I believe," Estelle replied.

"Would you and Justine bring the younger man out first please?" Lenore said to Estelle."

"Of course," Estelle replied.

The two women promptly left the room and were gone only a minute before they returned with the younger of the two men. Exactly why these individuals were being held I couldn't guess, but the one now being led in was a handsome, well-dressed specimen who smiled faintly as he was told to stand in the center of the room and await further instructions. 

"As you all know," Lenore began, "one of the criteria for membership into the Sisterhood is that all its members periodically acquire males for the purposes of serving the Sisterhood in whatever capacity we see fit. Our Sister Phoebe has procured one man whom she believes will devote himself to us without question. Of course the real purpose of this meeting is to determine if this man will submit to our will, and that is what we are here to determine. The other man is...well, a surprise. Let us begin."

The man was asked to sit down in a chair in the middle of the room. Lenore then sat down next to my aunt. She, along with all the other women in the room, observed the young man with interest. 

He was a tall man, well over six feet in height and broad shouldered. He had an Anglo-Saxon look about him—probably English or Irish—and had dark, wavy hair that fell to his shoulders. I don't think he was older than twenty-five. He was dressed casually in a pair of olive green khakis and a short-sleeve white shirt. As he sat there with his hands folded in his lap, I sensed that he was overwhelmed by the presence of so many formidable-looking females, although he, himself, looked every bit the part of a movie hero.

Lenore motioned to Justine to begin the inquiry. Once this directive had been given, the other women ceased chatting and turned their full attention to the man, who seemed a bit apprehensive. Justine stood over him now, fixing him with a steady gaze.

"What is your name please?"

"Andre Wilkins," he replied.

"Andre Wilkins...what?" she asked, prompting him.

For a moment he looked puzzled, but soon realized what she meant.

"Uh, miss."

"That's better," she said with a smile of satisfaction. "Why are you here Mr. Wilkins?"

"I have come to serve the Sisterhood, miss."

"And how do you intend to do that?"

"By doing whatever is asked of me," he replied, glancing up at her.

Justine seemed pleased. "You have been given the oath?"

"Yes, miss."

"I'm sorry Justine," Lenore interrupted. "I forgot to mention that both men have already taken the oath of allegiance. However," she said looking intently at the man, "that does not guarantee that you will be granted the privilege of servitude."

"That's correct." Justine said. "That is to be determined by this inquiry and subsequent demonstration. Do you understand Mr. Wilkins?"

"Yes, miss. I understand." He looked pensive for a moment. "Uh, miss? "What demonstration?"

At this point Lenore stood up and walked over to the man. She bent over him so that her face was only inches from his own.

"You do not ask questions of us, ever. Is that understood?"

"Yes...yes, of course miss," Mr. Wilkins replied with a trembling voice.

"Phoebe," she said to my aunt. "This is not to be tolerated. So learn this well. Those who serve the Sisterhood do not question: they only obey. What this man does on his own time is his business, but while he is in our employ he must serve us unconditionally."

Lenore was very adamant about the whole affair, and my aunt just sat there nodding her head in agreement, saying nothing. Lenore asked Justine to continue and resumed her seat next to my aunt.

"I am going to ask you some questions and then the other ladies in the room are going to ask you more questions. If you fail to answer even one question to our satisfaction, or if you try to be evasive in any way, you will be dismissed. Many of these questions will be of a highly personal nature. Do you have a problem with that?"

"No, miss."

"Very well. If you pass the questionnaire, you will then be asked to provide us with a physical demonstration of your loyalty and obedience, whose form is to be determined by our Supreme Sister. Are you ready?"

Heaving a heavy sigh, Mr. Wilkins looked straight ahead and fixed his eyes upon nothing in particular.

"I'm ready...miss," he said softly.

I think I was just as much puzzled as Mr. Wilkins as to what Justine meant by "demonstration." He looked very nervous now, afraid that one wrong answer would put an end to his attempt to become their collective footstool. Why any man would voluntarily choose to subjugate himself to the whims of these women, or to anyone for that matter, was quite beyond my ability to comprehend. I did not learn until very much later that the desire to be controlled by another was as much a need of the servant as the desire to control was a need of the one being served.

Justine sat down next to Estelle and began the questioning. I think she enjoyed her role as interrogator, feeling a rush of power over Mr. Wilkins's discomfort. 

"As you may have heard, Mr. Wilkins," she began, "those who are admitted into our employ serve the Sisterhood in many ways. Do you have any objections to exposing your naked body to your superiors?"
At first the startled man didn't know how to respond. I watched as his eyes darted from one face to another until his gaze finally rested upon Justine. Slowly, he forced the words out.

"I...don't have any objections, miss," he said with some hesitation.

"Are you sure? You seem a little uncertain."

Again he halted before replying. "No, miss. I have no problem with it."

I could not understand, as I watched his nervous response from my secret hiding place in the closet, why nakedness should have been a prerequisite for employment. But then I recalled the books I had recently read that dealt with women in power who controlled men via manual stimulation of their penises, and I started to put it all together. He was going to become their group boy toy.

"Then stand up and remove all your clothes—now!"

At first he hesitated. But his need to be dominated overrode his timidity and he slowly rose and began to disrobe.

Andre took his time removing his clothes. He began with his shoes and socks; then the shirt came off followed by his pants. These items he deposited in a heap by his feet. He stood there now with only his boxer briefs on, looking embarrassed and seeking direction. I noticed that there was a big bulge in his underwear.

"He's got a hard-on for Christ's sake!" said a cute, stout-looking woman with a Russian accent. 

Upon seeing his erection all the women began laughing, making lewd remarks and reveling in his embarrassment. But some withheld their comments, preferring instead to see what was hiding underneath his briefs.

"Well?" Justine asked. "What are you waiting for?"

Andre's face turned beet red. "You want me to take off my underwear too?"

"Of course!" she demanded.

There was nothing the hapless young man could do. If he refused, he would dismissed. Reluctantly, he lowered his hands to his waist and began to pull his briefs down in a slow, exaggerated motion. The women, sensing his reluctance, showered him with catcalls.

"Oh, hurry up!" Justine said impatiently. "Don't keep us waiting or you'll find yourself out on the street in a minute!"

Some of the women started to chuckle as he fumbled with his underwear. From my vantage point in the closet, Andre stood about 30 feet away from me on a diagonal plane, and I could see every deliberate motion of his hands and every strained look on his face as he pulled his underwear down. My aunt, Lenore, and several other women, one a fiery Japanese girl who looked too young to be involved with this group, had the advantage of seeing his marvelously rounded and muscular backside from up close. The girl actually took the liberty of reaching out and caressing his ass, earning a round of cheers from the ladies. However, it was the thing sprouting up from between his legs that got the greatest amount of attention.

To a chorus of jeering and drunken women, Andre drew his briefs down beyond the level of his crotch, and his penis, now fully erect, sprang into view. It was an amazing sight, pointing up hard and straight toward the ceiling. I found myself mouthing the words Oh, my God! as the huge cock—about the same size as Delvin's I thought—bobbed about as if it had a life of its own. Justine ordered him to turn around so that my aunt and those seated behind him could get a good view of this object of wonder.

"You have a beautiful prick young man," Lenore said admiring his penis.

"I love his balls!" Estelle exclaimed. "Look how big they are!"

This made everyone break out into gales of laughter.

My aunt sat there with a huge grin on her face, eyeing him up and down. "Lovely," she said, as he continued rotating his torso so that everyone could see his ample equipment.

Andre was indeed a striking example of male physical perfection. He reminded me of an ancient Greek warrior frozen in marble, the sculptor's art reflected in the infinite details of his face and torso, providing a vision of idealized beauty. So many favorable comments, voiced in several different languages, came fast and furious as Andre, quickly gaining more confidence in his new role as male model, did an impromptu dance, making his penis shake up and down and side to side as he did so.

"Bravo!" shouted a beautiful, leggy blonde with an Italian accent. "I must congratulate you Phoebe on your taste in men! Bravo!"

"Thank you Felicia," my aunt replied.

Andre continued to perform his little dance until Justine ordered him to sit down.

"I was going to command you to get an erection but I can see you have no trouble in that department!" Justine laughed.

For the first time Andre smiled. I think he was beginning to feel a bit more self-assured, now that he felt himself closer to his ultimate goal of servitude to these women. But any hope of an easy approval was swiftly dashed when Lenore stood up to address him.

"Don't look so pleased with yourself Mr. Wilkins," she said in a stern voice. "You have a long way to go yet."

Andre's smile quickly faded, but not his erection.

In my limited experiences with boys, I've always noticed that their penises seemed to have a mind of their own. It seemed to me that adult males suffered the same problem. 

"How long is your dick, Mr. Wilkins?" Justine asked bluntly.

"I...I don't know," he confessed shamefacedly. "I've never measured it, miss."

A pretty, flaxen-haired woman in a red dress, whose name I later learned was Gertrude, burst out laughing.

"Dumbbell!" she exclaimed. "All men take measurements of their penises!"

"Not necessarily," Janet replied. "My husband never knew how big he was until I measured it for him."

"Oh yeah? Well, he must be a dumbbell too!"

All the women laughed, but Janet didn't care much for the comment.

"Phoebe, do you have a tape measure?" Lenore asked my aunt.

"I'm sorry. I don't know where my servants keep it."

"Well, he has to be measured somehow," Justine said.

"A very attractive and tall black woman took a sip of her drink and said, "He looks about a size 10 to me."

"You must be talking about your shoe size Zula," Lenore said jokingly.

"No, she's talking about mine," Estelle said removing one of her shoes. "I'm a size ten." 

"Well, stick it next to his cock and let's see how Mr. Wilkins measures up," said Justine with a smirk.

Andre was ordered to stand as Estelle placed the underside of her pump alongside the young man's massive erection. 

"Ha! I was right!" she cried. "Ten inches exactly. A perfect fit!"

Everyone laughed and commended her and Zula for their visual acumen.

Estelle removed her shoe and stared at his prick longingly for a few seconds, and then placed her hand between his legs and cupped his balls. 

"I hope your batteries are fully charged," she said as she squeezed the swollen sac.

Andre winced and tried to draw away but Justine reprimanded him.

"Keep your hands by your sides Mr. Wilkins or you know what will happen to you!"

"Please, miss," he entreated Estelle. "Don't hurt me."

"I'm not going to hurt you," she replied. "But don't try to stop me from playing with you either."

Estelle unashamedly let her hands wander around his genital area for some time as all the other women watched intently.

"Great cock, I must say!" she blurted out as she fisted him gently up and down. "Do I turn you on?"

"Yes, miss," he replied as he drew in a deep breath.

She continued to toy with his cock and balls until Lenore was forced to intervene.

"Okay, Estelle. That's enough. Let's get on with it."

Estelle returned to her seat, but not before teasing Andre with a few more quick tugs on his pole. Justine told him to remain standing as she continued the line of questioning.

"All right, so now you know how long your dick is," she said to him in an unimpassioned voice. "Please tell us how often you masturbate."

"Well, miss," he faltered. "I...uh..."

"Go ahead. Tell us. Don't be ashamed."

"Well, I usually do it once a day and sometimes I wait two or three days before I do it," he admitted with some hesitation. "I can even do it several times a day if I'm really horny."

"Really?" she said surprised. "Several times a day. That's amazing. Are you horny now?"

"Yes, miss," he said emphatically.

A young, lovely Chinese woman almost choked on her drink. "What a silly thing to ask him Justine!" Can't you see he's leaking already?"

I had no idea what she was referring to. Leaking what from where? It wasn't until Justine walked up to Andre and bent over to inspect his penis that I understood.

"I guess you're right, Yin," she said as she probed his glans with her fingers. "Will somebody get me some tissues?"

She withdrew her hand and played with the sticky residue left behind on her thumb and forefinger. 

"Here you are," Gertrude said, handing her a bunch of tissues. 

She quickly wiped away the fluid from her fingers and handed the remaining tissues to Andre. "Try to keep things under control, will you?"

"Yes, miss," he replied, as he deftly applied the tissues to the tip of his penis.

"Now Mr. Wilkins, I want you to understand that male nudity is not only commonplace in the Sisterhood, it is mandatory for all our servants. Do you have a problem with that?"

At first I thought Andre was going to voice an objection, but he thought better of it and just nodded his head. "No miss," he said haltingly. "No problem."

"Very well," Justine said, pleased with his response. "Now I have a hypothetical question for you. Let's suppose you're serving drinks at one of our parties and, on a whim, one of the female guests asks you to perform for her...you know, an off-the-cuff jerk off show for her and her friends. What do you do?" 

Andre took his time responding. I think he was anxious not to ruin everything by giving an unsatisfactory answer when he seemed so close to obtaining his goal.

"I guess that would depend on who the woman is," he replied cautiously.

"And why is that?"

"Well," he continued, "if I am correct...in such a case...I am only to obey the commands of the ladies of the Sisterhood."

Justine smiled. "Good answer," she said. "In most cases you can accommodate most of our guests as you would in any other circumstance. However, only the Sisterhood reserves the right to command your obedience, or to punish you for your disobedience. And you are forbidden to expend your sperm for anyone but the Sisterhood."

"I understand miss," he said with a sense of relief.

At this point Lenore stood up and walked up to the young man.

"What our sister Justine told you is absolutely correct. We reward obedience and punish severely those who disobey us."

She punctuated these words by reaching her hand out and closing her fist around Andre's penis. It was still sticking out proud and straight, despite his apparent timidity in the presence of so many powerful personalities.

As Lenore played with his cock, the other women began to encourage her to masturbate him then and there, but she simply kept her fist closed around his shaft and refrained from stimulating him further.

"What do you think of me young man?" she asked him.

Andre swallowed hard. "I think you are a very beautiful woman," he stammered, reluctant to look her in the face.

Some of the women giggled at his apparent discomfort.

"Do you know that I am old enough to be your mother?"

"I wouldn't presume..."

"It's all right Mr. Wilkins. I'm not ashamed of my age. I am at least 25 years older than you are, and in that time I have come to wield great power in the Sisterhood."

"Yes miss," he said meekly, his head bowed.

"So much power, in fact, that I can tell most men to go to hell and they'll gladly do it."

Andre said nothing to this statement, but his face looked downcast.

"Don't look so solemn," she said rubbing her other hand over his chest in a slow, sensuous motion. "I'm not referring to you. To me you are nothing more that a soft, cuddly, obedient puppy dog."

As she said this, her hand pulled hard on his cock three times to accentuate her final three words. Andre held his breath for a moment in response to her unexpected maneuver, and then exhaled loudly. The women quickly shouted their approval.

"I think he liked that, Lenore," Estelle said.

"You did, didn't you?" Lenore asked him.

"Yes, miss," he said, feeling a new sense of exhilaration upon being stroked by her masterful hands.

"I know you did," she smiled. "Now, prostrate yourself before me and kiss both my feet. Swear your allegiance and promise to serve me and the all the Sisterhood for the rest of your life."

Andre immediately fell onto his stomach and did as she asked, kissing both of her tiny feet with tender, gentle kisses.

"Now get on your knees and kiss the feet of all the other ladies in this room."

"Yes, miss!" he said, eager to show his compliance by hastily crawling on his hands and knees toward Felicia, who was nearest to him.

The stunning Mediterranean beauty barely gave him a nod as he kissed both her feet with absolute and loving devotion.

"This is what I like to see," Lenore remarked. "A man in his proper place!"

Andre then moved on to the 3-inch heels belonging to the Japanese woman, Kyoto. In her case, he was instructed to suck the heel of both shoes and run his tongue up and down the entire length of the sole. He obeyed her without question or pause, and when she felt his homage to her was complete, she patted him on the head as if he were little more than a dog.

"Now you go over to Selena," she cooed, and do the same to her."

Selena welcomed Andre with her bare feet, which she stuck in his face, demanding he give her a tongue bath. In this feat he assiduously applied himself, paying strict attention to every toe as his tongue gently and lovingly sucked one and then the other into his hot mouth. Selena loved the feel of her toes being so treated and laid back in her chair moaning in delight.

"Oh, yes...that's it!" she said in a thick, Spanish accent. "Make sure you get in between all the crevices."

Andre treated her feet as if they were some kind of holy relic, his tongue never once abandoning the object of his affection.

My aunt and Estelle took it upon themselves to serve more drinks to the ladies as this particular ritual took place. When it came time for Andre to kiss my aunt's feet, she laughed playfully, enjoying his act of humble submission. Some of the women treated him as if he were nothing more than a loyal pet, offering him a sip of their drink if he particularly pleased them, or fondling various parts of his body as a reward for his obeisance. 

I had never seen a man assume a role of such abject servility. My own father would never bow to any woman—or any man for that matter. The few boys I dated would only pretend to act accommodating when they thought that they might stand something to gain from it, like feeling my breasts or trying to make me play with their penises. I felt contempt for Andre's weakness, yet I also felt a strong exhilaration at the power such subservience evoked from the hands of his mistresses.

When he had fulfilled his obligation to kiss every woman's feet, he then found himself at their mercy as they played with his body and his mind, teasing him, taunting him, amusing themselves at his expense as he performed a series of various little tasks, all designed to indulge and entertain their libidinous sensibilities. At one moment he was serving them drinks; the next, he found himself draped over a woman's knees as she energetically applied a rigorous spanking. This absurd spectacle went on for at least a half hour, and all during that time Andre's stubborn erection would not subside. An Englishwoman, whom I heard called "Marge," was the first to comment on this peculiarity.

"It's a funny thing, that," she said, pointing to Andre's erection. "He's been hard for the past hour you know."

Selena giggled. "He must have used some spray starch on it or something!"

Greta, a lovely, brunette with a dazzling smile, said, "Our Norwegian men always walk around with their cocks erect."

"Really?" Felicia said, finding this amusing. "You must like to keep them handy, no?"

Anya, the Russian woman, laughed. "The longer they keep it up, the more fun for us!"

The others raised their glasses in toast to this statement as Andre's humiliation continued unabated.

If these women only knew that only a short distance away, a nervous though entranced, accidental voyeur was observing their covert rituals, they would have probably killed me on the spot. At least that's what my juvenile instincts told me. Yes, it was certainly possible that my aunt would no doubt have intervened on my behalf, but even if I were not disposed of, they might elect to keep me a prisoner in some cold and dank cell to spend the rest of my days in frightful solitude, so as to keep the knowledge of their Sisterhood secret. This imaginary fear, quite real to me at the time, haunted me for months afterwards. The fear of meeting my demise at the hands of Lenore and her band of devotees was so intense and pervasive that I decided not to utter a word to anyone about what I had witnessed that day, preferring to keep my mouth shut and thereby preserving my young life.

I had already spent what I thought must have been at least an hour in the closet, and I was anxious to get out. It was comfortable enough inside my little hideaway, but I knew I would have to leave the house soon if I were to make my way back to Angelique and the others, who were, by now, halfway through the special double feature at the theater. When this spectacle would end, I couldn't tell. And more importantly, how was I going to escape without being seen?

Andre was asked a few more questions and then Lenore called for the group's attention. Taking Andre by the hand, she once again led him to the middle of the room.

"Now, Mr. Wilkins," she began. "For your final test of submission, you are to masturbate yourself to orgasm while we all watch."

It was said in a purely matter-of-fact tone, as if such an occurrence happened every day. Andre looked dumbfounded.

"Is this a joke, miss?" he asked.

"Of course it's not a joke," Lenore replied firmly. "I hope you're not having second thoughts!"

Feeling once again that his reluctance to perform might prove to be his undoing, he resigned himself to his fate and took his penis in hand as Lenore smiled.

"See," she said, "that's not so difficult, is it?"

Estelle chuckled. "I was wondering all this time how we were going to keep him from not coming!"

I had never seen a grown man masturbate before and I was quite enthralled by his technique, which was slow and methodical, the tempo unvarying, as if he were trying to prolong the moment of release as long as possible. As he was already aroused, I didn't think it would take much stimulation to get him to climax, but I was wrong on this account. Despite his masterful handling of his magnificent tool, and the crowd's encouragement, he was still jerking his penis almost five minutes later, and the ladies were now becoming impatient.

"This is ridiculous!" Janet complained. "He's taking way too long!"

"Are you ashamed to ejaculate in front of us, Mr. Wilkins?" Justine asked him.

Andre kept stroking his penis without looking up.

"I'm sorry, miss," he said contritely. "I guess I am."

"Mr. Wilkins," she said with impatience. "If you cannot perform as ordered...that's going to be a problem."

At this point Lenore interceded on his behalf.

"I can see that you're having some difficulty young man," she began, sensing his nervousness. "But I am willing to overlook it based upon your previous satisfactory show of servility. However, we must get you to ejaculate or you will be dismissed." 

Andre's expression grew dour. 

"I'm trying miss, I really am."
Lenore turned to Janet.

"You're the handjob expert around here," she said to the leggy brunette. "Help him out."

"As you wish, Lenore," Janet said. 

Without hesitation, she removed a small jar of Vaseline from her purse and applied a thick coating of the greasy emulsion to her palms.

"But Lenore," Justine protested. "He's supposed to do this on his own."

"I know Justine," Lenore replied. "But I like this boy. I think he'll make a fine addition to our stable."

"I agree," Estelle said. "He's got all the right qualities to make an excellent servant."

Justine frowned as Janet now positioned herself to the right side of Andre, allowing me to witness his masturbation unimpeded.

"But Lenore.."

The older woman glanced at her younger colleague with displeasure, and that was enough to end the debate. Justine didn't say another word until the spectacle was over, and with Janet about to take Andre's huge cock firmly under her control, I didn't think it would take long.

As I had mentioned earlier, Janet was a beautiful woman who was graced with a set of amazingly long and perfectly proportioned legs. She was a woman who laughed freely, and her light-hearted demeanor was reflected in every motion of her tall, lithe body. Andre was actually a few inches taller than she was, but with his shoes off, and she with her 3-inch heels on, it created an illusion that she was, in fact, the taller of the two. As she now looked down upon him, she allowed her left arm to encircle his waist while her right hand took hold of his erect penis. His mental subjugation by these women, plus the added physical imagery of Janet towering over him, made Andre sigh heavily as he surrendered himself, body and soul, to the insistent stroking of the bubbly, brunette vixen. In a matter of seconds, a river of clear fluid poured forth from his penis, flowing over her Vaseline-coated hand. Seeing this prompted Janet to have some verbal fun with Andre.

"My God, you're so tense!" she said, laughing as she masturbated him. "When was the last time you came?"

Andre's chest heaved up and down in time with Janet's strokes, and it took him a few seconds to respond.

"Close to...uh, seven days, miss..."

"Seven days!" she exclaimed. "My husband would be climbing the walls!"

Greta laughed. "He was climbing the walls. Don't you remember Janet? Our last party he wanted a handjob, but you got sick and asked me to take care of him for you."

"Oh, that's right!" Janet replied, never missing a beat. "You jerked him off right in Felicia's face, if I remember."

"I remember," Felicia said with a grin. "I had to shampoo my hair three times to get all the sperm out."

"I know!" Janet laughed. "He does shoot a lot."

"Yes," Greta agreed. "He cums like a horse!"

All the women laughed at this remark with the exception of Justine. She still seemed annoyed that Lenore had flaunted the Sisterhood's rules, and periodically would glance in her superior's direction for want of anything better to do.

It amazed me that these women could carry on this lewd conversation in front of Andre in such a detached way, as if the sight of a man being masturbated in their presence was a commonplace event. The truth was, I later found out, that ritual male masturbation, or "milkings" as the women referred to them, were performed on a regular basis at all Sisterhood affairs, including meetings, parties, and all kinds of social engagements where men were to be found. So, the only thing new about this particular situation was the subject himself—everything else serving only as a variation on a theme for these jaded voluptuaries.

As Janet continued to stroke Andre—now with a precise, mechanical cadence; now with a series of rapid bursts—my aunt, Lenore, and all the other women sitting to Andre's rear, moved to the opposite side of the room, in anticipation of witnessing his fast approaching orgasm.

"Oh, yes please, move up front," Janet said to them. "Can everybody see?"

"You're in rare form today, Janet," Lenore commented. "It looks like you're going to get him to shoot soon."

I could not imagine how she knew that. Despite lots of clear liquid (I later learned from Angelique that this was called "precum") being extruded from his penis, I did not see any indication of impending orgasm. But I did notice that Andres's testicles were now rising up toward the base of his shaft, and his entire body seemed to freeze up.

"I love your new, red, nail polish, Janet," Anya said casually, as she leaned forward to watch Andre climax.

"I just bought it yesterday," Janet said, stroking him harder.

"You've got him now!" Estelle said excitedly. "Bring him off! Bring him off!"

All the women now started to clap their hands at once, including my aunt, who had been more or less reserved during the entire ritual. Janet's hand now flew up and down in a reckless fashion over the full length of Andre's greasy pole. She held his body firmly now, drawing it closer to hers as her stroking hand, never relenting for a moment, delivered the final tugs that would bring about the eagerly awaited eruption of sperm.

"Explosion imminent!" she cried, as her long, delicate fingers danced and played along the length of him. 

Andre threw his head back and let out a howl.

I didn't know it then, but the longer a man abstains from masturbating, and the more he's teased and denied over a period of time, the more forcefully the sperm will shoot out, which is unlikely to occur if this practice is not followed. I had no doubt the women were well aware of this fact, and that was the reason they had teased him so unmercifully. Yet, none of the ladies deemed it necessary to seek cover from his forthcoming explosion, preferring to remain in close proximity in order to see the result of Janet's superb handjob.

Knowing he was ready to cum, Janet pulled viciously upon him with hard, fast strokes, and Andre's prick now began to surrender its gooey load.

Suddenly, I saw something whitish fly across the room at tremendous speed.

"Christ, what a shot!" Lenore exclaimed, as the first arc of sperm sailed right over Greta's head and splashed all over Yin's royal-blue blazer. 

The petite, Chinese woman shrieked with laughter as she looked down upon a thick stream of cum that had landed on the right front of her satin blouse. The other women were surprised at the distance the cum had traveled, and they commented favorably about Janet's style.

The next few ejaculations were long, stringy affairs that shot out feebly and hung off the tip of his penis like a trail of white glue. But the next shot was even better than the first.

Playfully aiming Andre's climaxing prick straight up, Janet coaxed out an enormous load of semen that flew up past his head and ricocheted off her left cheek, a portion of it flying out into the audience and landing right in Justine's beautiful, brown hair.

"Oh, fuck!" the stricken woman complained as she ran out of the room.

The women were in hysterics. It wasn't so much the distance his sperm had traveled as it was Justine's reaction to it that aroused the crowd. I had to stuff my face into the nearest coat sleeve to stifle my own outburst or risk being discovered. Janet herself was so overcome with laughter that she had a hard time maintaining a consistent pumping action on Andre's penis. He was now thrusting his lower body forward, trying to force his huge organ in and out of her greasy hand, and sending copious amounts of semen flying out in all directions. One extra-long spurt hit Anya's legs and cascaded down onto her black boots like a river of white lava. Another sticky burst found its way onto both Felicia and Greta's skirts, causing both women to laugh uncontrollably. I'll never forget the look on my aunt's face as the creamy spectacle continued, with several other women, including Estelle and Lenore, receiving at least a small portion of the viscous white fluid that kept squirting out of Andre's prick at the insistence of Janet's uncompromising handjob.

"My God, what a fucking load!" Estelle exclaimed. "Give the girl a hand!"

Everyone broke into a thunderous round of applause for Janet, who obviously had proved more than once that, amongst them, she was the masturbator extraordinaire.

As Andre's orgasm began to subside, Janet released her hand from his prick and left the room to wash her hands. The women who had their bodies and clothes soiled by the experience employed tissues to clean up the mess, or headed to the bathroom if the baptism by sperm proved to much for a mere tissue to clean.

"Look at my floor," my aunt complained to Lenore. "It's all sticky with sperm."

"I'll have Estelle clean it up," Lenore said, amazed at the abundance of semen that now coated the floor.

Estelle's laughter slowly subsided at the thought of performing this unwelcome task. "Why must it always be me?" she asked Lenore. "Why can't Justine clean it this time?"

"Oh, be quiet Estelle," Lenore said. "You act like a child sometimes I swear."

Andre was now wiping his cock with some tissues, uncertain of what to do next.

"Well done, Mr. Wilkins," Lenore told him. "That was a splendid performance. Along with my Sisters I would like to welcome you into the ranks of those who serve the Sisterhood."

Andre looked silly standing there naked with his now flaccid penis glistening with Vaseline and still dripping with sperm, but his exposure only seemed to heighten his pride as he smiled and fell to the floor on one knee.

"I promise to serve you and all the Sisterhood with the utmost devotion, loyalty, and obedience."

"Well said! Now go and get yourself cleaned up and then see Sister Justine who will instruct you further."

Rising to his feet, and with a gentlemanly flourish to Lenore and all the ladies, Andre left the room with his clothes tucked under his arms as the women gave him a tremendous round of applause.

"I swear they do most of their thinking with the head between their legs!" Lenore said to my aunt with a snicker.

When the women who had left the room returned, including the still pouting Justine, Lenore ordered Estelle to clean the mess on the floor and then bring the next man in. She returned a few moments later and halted at the door with a tall, handsome black man at her side. Lenore signaled Justine to turn on a portable stereo and disco music began to play.

"Ladies," Lenore began, "I have a special treat for you right now. May I introduce to you, direct from Chips male burlesque show in Los Angeles, the one and only Portland Turner!"

To the accompaniment of the music, Portland gracefully made his way around the room, throwing confetti into the air and gyrating his body in a very suggestive fashion. He was dressed in a black tuxedo and was all smiles as he went from woman to woman, slowly removing a piece of his clothing here and there or inviting one of the women to do it for him.

Unlike Andre, he was obviously not vying for a servile role within the Sisterhood. I'm sure he had no idea what the Sisterhood was. He was merely there to entertain and amuse the ladies, much as he probably did when he performed his regular routine at the club.

As he continued to dance and strip away his clothing, the women began to interact with him in the most outlandish ways. My aunt, who, for the most part, had been rather subdued while she allowed Lenore and the other women to initiate her into the ways of the Sisterhood, finally broke down and joined the chorus of drunken, chanting women as they teased Portland to remove every bit of his clothing.

At one point during his routine, Zula stood up and started to unbuckle his pants. He stood there, dancing in place, as the sexy black woman pulled down his zipper and then his pants, shouting "My man! My man!" as a pair of lime green thongs was revealed. She gave his ass a hard slap and then he waltzed over to my aunt and thrust his crotch right in her face. She laughed as both she and Lenore reached out and rubbed their hands all over his thighs and lower body. The place was in an uproar.

By this time my legs were quite tired from standing up so long in one spot. Although the closet itself was roomy, I had to contend with things like cardboard boxes and other items, in addition to coats and dresses, which constricted my movements and made me feel trapped. While the commotion was going on outside, I took advantage of the opportunity to pack a few boxes on top of one another, allowing me to sit down and view the proceedings in a more relaxed position.

Portland had now danced his way around every woman in the room and as he moved toward the circle recently vacated by Andre, I saw that he had a huge bulge in his underwear. Lenore and all the other women were calling for him to remove this last vestige of apparel, no doubt desirous to see what he was hiding underneath.

During Andre's initiation-type ceremony, I noticed that my aunt had only taken one drink, as compared to the other women, who were guzzling down liquor without restraint. I think she was taking her lead from Lenore, who also limited her alcohol consumption to only two martinis, and then sat back and watched the drama unfold, much like an armchair general surveying her troops. Like Lenore, she allowed herself to enjoy and be amused by the entertainment provided, but there were limits to her self-indulgence, especially when she felt her control was not being meticulously maintained. It seemed to me that she admired Lenore and was taking this opportunity to appraise the older woman's sense of style and leadership. Although my aunt was a great lover of life and all its pleasures, she was wise enough to know when to sit things out and let others run the show. In this way, my aunt learned more about Lenore and the Sisterhood than if she had let her ego get in the way, thereby settling for only a superficial understanding of this mysterious cult and its even more mysterious leader.

As I pondered these thoughts, Portland was slowly removing his thong. At first he lowered it so that only the tip of his penis was visible, which brought a bunch of howls from the women. He danced around for a time in this fashion, with only the head of his cock exposed. Then, without warning, and in time with an abrupt halt in the music, he walked over to Zula and invited her to remove the flimsy garment. She stood up against him and with both hands pulled his thong completely down, revealing the most enormous penis I had ever seen. The ladies cheered wildly at the sight of his towering shaft, which now bobbed up and down and back and forth as he gyrated his body in time to the music.

"It's a tube steak!" Anya cried, so drunk that she could barely sit up straight.

"It's a black beauty!" Zula shouted, clapping her approval.

I thought Delvin was big, but Portland was at least a few inches longer and the shaft appeared to be a lot thicker too. I wondered what my horny cousin would have thought of it and laughed. 

Lenore looked at the stiff, black pole with hunger. Suddenly rushing over to him, she fell to her knees and stuffed the head of his massive tool into her mouth, using both hands to play with his huge testicles that hung like two over-ripe plums from the base of his cock. Portland's face registered surprise and then complete rapture as Lenore worked vigorously on his magnificent prick. In less than a minute, his cock was dripping pre-cum, and the women were begging her to finish him off.

"No," she said, removing him from her mouth. "There is one little piece of business yet to attend to." She looked at my aunt and motioned for her to approach. "Phoebe," she said, "have you ever masturbated any other man while married to your husband?"

"No, Lenore," my aunt replied with a questioning look.

"Well, it's about time. Come over here and finish what I've started."

My aunt started to move toward her but stopped halfway.

"I'm a married woman, Lenore. If this should ever get back to Pierre..."

"Are we of the Sisterhood not sworn to secrecy on pain of...I need not mention it."

I knew what Lenore meant: on pain of death! Once again I sought shelter in the fur-lined arms of my aunt's most luxurious winter coat.

"Yes," my aunt replied, "that's true. But I'd feel like I'm being unfaithful."

This statement was greeted by a chorus of moans.

"I'm not asking you to have sex with him, only a quick handjob and that's all."

Seeing my aunt still vacillating, Lenore's expression suddenly turned dark.

"You must do this Phoebe or it will go against you with the other Sisters."

As my aunt considered what to do, the other women goaded and prodded her into complying with Lenore's demands, informing her that many of them were also married, yet enjoyed controlling men and that she would enjoy it too.

"You're getting off light," Felicia said to my aunt. "During my initiation ceremony I had to give a guy a blowjob and was forced to swallow the whole load."

"Don't let her kid you," Gertrude said. "Most of it ended up on her face!"

Janet crossed her beautiful long legs and laughed. "I love my husband too, Phoebe, but I also love to give handjobs. Go ahead, you've got a nice big one to work on."

More words of encouragement followed until, at last, my aunt acquiesced and took Portland's ample penis in her hands. Unable to get her fingers completely around it, she laughed.

"My God!" she exclaimed as she examined the monstrous black snake. "How big are you?"

"I'm eleven and one-half inches long and two inches around, miss," Portland said proudly.

"Jesus Christ!" Janet cried. "Fuck Andre, I should have waited for him!"

The ladies were ecstatic.

My aunt worked on his cock with slow, easy strokes, enjoying the feel of it in her hands and the power she had over this powerfully built man.

"Doesn't it feel good, Phoebe?" Lenore asked. "To be able to control such a big, strong man in this fashion?"

"Yes, it does," my aunt replied, as one hand pumped his cock and the other squeezed his balls.

"Is Pierre as big as Mr. Turner?"

My aunt laughed. "No. He's rather quite small actually."

"Then this is a treat for you," Lenore said. "And this is just the beginning. Soon a whole new world will be opened up to you in which you will be the mistress and the men will be controlled by you—just like this little puppy dog here."

Urged on by the exhortations of the women, and by my aunt's blistering handjob, Portland got ready to surrender his creamy load.

"I notice that you keep looking at Janet's legs," Lenore said to him.

"I can't...I can't help myself," he replied breathlessly. "They're the most...beautiful legs...I've ever seen."

"Well then go ahead and shoot your cum all over them," Lenore ordered. "Come on, Janet," she said, "push your chair up and stick out those lovely legs of yours so that Mr. Turner can apply some of his skin lotion to them."

Janet was so drunk and turned on that she obeyed immediately, placing both her bare feet on each of his thighs as she sat back to await her christening by sperm.

"Shoot that fucking, nasty, hot cream all over my legs you black bastard!" she commanded him.

That was all it took. Ordering my aunt to point his enormous prick directly at her legs, Portland screamed with joy as the first spurt of cock juice shot out of him and splashed into Janet's right knee, making a thick trail of white that extended all the way up to her thigh.

"Yes!" she said, overjoyed, as my aunt intensified her stroking.

Two more huge blasts followed in quick succession, one decorating her left leg from ankle to knee; the other missing her leg altogether and flying over her head to land in Greta's lap.

"On her legs, Phoebe!" Greta protested, as she tried to wipe away the cum with a tissue.

Everyone laughed at the wayward cum shot and commented favorably on the distance and volume of his orgasm. My aunt seemed to be truly enjoying herself as she watched in awe as several more thick ropes of sperm were launched from Portland's cock, all of which wound up as massive clumps of paste on Janet's legs.

"I love it!" she cried, as she massaged the creamy effluence into her thighs.

Portland shot off a few more rounds and then fell to the floor in a heap.

"That was the best damn handjob I ever had!" he said, breathing heavily and looking up at my aunt with an adoring look.

"Thank you. That was so much fun," she replied as she wiped the sperm off her hands with a tissue.

A few of the women helped Janet clean up the mess on her legs with a bunch of tissues. She looked ready to pass out.

"Great cum shot, Portland! Great cum shot!" she said laughing.

Lenore waltzed over to my aunt and congratulated her, taking a moment to officially welcome her into the Sisterhood.

"You are now one of us," she said to my aunt as she shook her hand firmly.

"Thank you, Lenore. Is there anything else I need to do?"

"No, you are now a lifelong member." She turned to Portland. "You may go now young man. You put on a wonderful show."

"Thank you, ma'm...ladies," he said, as he gathered his clothes and made a hasty retreat to a hearty round of applause.

"That wasn't so bad now, was it?" Lenore asked my aunt.

"No, not at all," she replied. "I actually enjoyed it."

"Wait until you visit the Masturbatorium," Estelle said. That's really something to experience."

All the other women readily agreed.

"What's the Masturbatorium?" my aunt asked.

"No," Lenore said to Estelle. "She'll find out soon enough. I want it to be a surprise."

My aunt pressed Lenore and the others for more information, but she was told no more. Consoling herself with a second drink, she invited everyone back out onto the lanai. As they started to leave, I saw my chance to escape and took it. Happy to be released from my confined surroundings, I went to the window to watch the procession of drunken women make a wobbly sojourn onto the patio. When I was certain that the last of them had gone, I immediately called for a cab and dashed out of the house. I had the cab meet me at the gated entrance abutting the street so that no one could possibly witness my escape. I arrived at the theater just as the movie had ended and the people were exiting. Brittany was the one who saw me first.

"Hi Holly!" she said, chewing a wad of bubblegum. "Feeling better?"

I assured her that I was all right.

"You missed two great movies."

Before I could respond, I saw Angelique and Megan fight their way toward me from within the crowd.

"Well look who's here!" my cousin said, giving my shoulder a pat. "Did you make it home?"

"No," I lied. "I hung out at the beach and puked my brains out. But I'm better now."

"I hope you didn't do it in front of any boys," Megan said.

"When you've got to puke, you puke Megan—boys or no boys—if you're human!" Angelique said jokingly.

"Ha, ha," Megan said, not amused.

The four of us spent the rest of the day and most of the evening within the microcosm of that wonderful mall, buying everything we could get our spoiled little hands on. Jake picked us up at 9:00 PM as he promised, and we were dutifully home by 10:00 PM, as we had promised my aunt.

When we arrived back at the house, I found the servants back at their usual chores, as if they had never left. My aunt greeted us warmly, eagerly inspecting our recent fashion acquisitions and commenting excitedly when she came upon what she thought was a unique treasure. She asked us how we had enjoyed our day and was sorry to hear that I had been taken ill. She felt bad that I had chosen to spend part of the day at the beach alone, but she never intimated that I should have come home, and I think she was relieved that her plans had not been compromised, which of course, they were.

Lenore, Justine, and Estelle had gone out for the evening, and I was grateful that I wouldn't have to confront them, especially Lenore, afraid that my knowledge of their cult practices might somehow be revealed in my facial expressions, and interpreted by their perceptive leader as infinite treachery and warranting immediate death. My aunt seemed to be her normal self, offering absolutely no hint of the wanton creature she had become earlier that day. But the truth was, although I still loved her, she had done those sordid things and I could never look upon her in quite the same way. In truth, I was being extremely judgmental, but as I grew in wisdom and experience, I found myself applauding her actions and eventually wanting to be just like her.

That night, Megan, Brittany, and I were once again entertained by some sexy DVDs Angelique had somehow managed to acquire. However, after what I had seen earlier that day, the videos seemed tame by comparison.

Delvin and Maria showed up around 1:00 AM and proceeded directly to bed, where we were again treated to a superlative sex show. Angelique repeated her performance of the night before by giving herself an immense orgasm as she watched, like the rest of us, with our faces pasted against the wall. It was the last night Maria would spend with Delvin as she was going to Europe to record a German version of her latest hit song. This gave my cousin an idea.

"It's open season as far as I'm concerned," she said later while Brittany and Megan were sleeping. "With Maria gone I'm going to have him all to myself."

"Isn't he going to Germany to join her?" I asked.

"Not for another week," she said happily.

"What are you going to do?"

Without a pause she said, "I'm going to make him forget about her and pay more attention to me."

"How are you going to do that?"

"I have my ways," she said with a sinister laugh.

Angelique was a lot like her mother, with one very important exception. Where my aunt was circumspect in her dealings with people, Angelique was blatantly direct, often foregoing the usual formalities most people take for granted. I also knew better than to underestimate her once she had made up her mind.

"Are you going to tell me?" I inquired.

"No," she said flatly. "Now go to sleep."

If I had known the thoughts that were running through her head that night, I would have hopped into the nearest cab and headed straight for home, never to return. Yet, the events I had witnessed earlier that day struck a sympathetic chord deep within me, forcing me to wonder about the power women had over men in ways both base and sublime. What my cousin had planned was sure to involve the former, but I decided then and there that there was nothing she could muster up that could ever hope to top what I had seen with the Sisterhood. Little did I know that Delvin, and the four of us, were soon going to experience something only the wicked imagination of my cousin could produce. And even more surprising, I would become a willing participant in the execution of her dastardly schemes.

As she and the other girls slept, I found myself wide awake, thinking about how much I wanted to tell my cousin all about the sordid affair that recently took place in my aunt's study. If I could have peered into Angelique's perverse mind, I might not have been so reticent to expose her mother's involvement with the secret society of women. But the lingering fear that somehow my treachery might be exposed by some unknown means available only to the Sisterhood prevented me from uttering a word to anyone. And so, I lived with the clandestine knowledge of the Sisterhood for a long time to come, secure in the realization that safety lie in silence. 


With Maria gone and Delvin in between recording sessions, our object of endearment found himself spending inordinate amounts of time either swimming or lounging by the pool. The Spanish beauty whom we had watched him have sex with several nights in a row had been gone for almost a week, and her absence was beginning to take its toll on Delvin's libido. My cousin and our two friends found, to our delight, that he was now focusing his attentions upon us, particularly Angelique, and whenever my aunt Phoebe wasn't around, he would make subtle sexual innuendos to my long-legged cousin, who ate up every morsel of flattery as though it were some fancy Parisian delicacy.

I liked Delvin and thought he was very cute, and Brittany and Megan seemed to share my opinion of the pop star. But Angelique was thoroughly obsessed with the handsome boy, and made no attempt to disguise her feelings about him to us. Of course, in his presence she was forced to act contrary to her usual forthright nature by feigning casual indifference—first, to keep her mother off track, and second, not to give Delvin the upper hand by thinking he had some power over her. It must have been difficult for her to play this game of cat and mouse with him, but I knew Angelique. I knew she was formulating a plan of action, and she would not implement it until all the pieces were in place. As far as Delvin was concerned, he could not afford to offend my aunt by making any overt gestures toward her daughter. For one thing, he considered my aunt his friend, and for another, he was already involved with Maria.

Finally, after days of teasing each other with thinly disguised erotic banter, and swimming together in the pool where he would find any excuse to touch her, Angelique called for a little conference by the pool when no one else was around. The meeting took place just after she and Delvin had been swimming. Her hair was still dripping wet as she took a chair beside me, and we watched as Delvin went into the house, giving us all a broad smile as he walked by. I took a sip of my soda and watched as her eyes followed him into the house. 

"Have any of you ever smoked pot?" Angelique asked us.

"I have," Brittany said.


"I swear. My brother let me try it a few times."

"I've never tried it," Megan admitted. "I don't think I'd like it."

"Why am I not surprised?" Angelique stated with a smirk. "How about you Holly?"

"Nope," I said, wondering where this was all leading.

Angelique thought for a moment and then spoke in a whisper, glancing over our heads to see if anyone might be within earshot.

"Okay, this is the thing," she began. "Delvin's got some stuff and he wants us to smoke it with him."

"No way!" Brittany squealed.

"Tonight," Angelique continued. "In his room!"

She smiled mischievously, and soon the three of us were begging her to give us the details.

"In his room?" Megan asked excitedly. "Are you going to do it?"

"You mean are we going to do it?" Angelique said, correcting her. "Yes, of course! Are you crazy?"

"I can't wait!" Brittany said, almost spitting up her soda.

My cousin must have seen a look of reluctance on my face because she began staring at me with her hypnotic blue eyes.

"Holly, you have to do this."

It was said as a directive.

"No, I don't."

"I'm not going alone."

"But what if your mother finds out?"

"She's going out tonight to meet Lenore and the rest of her friends. It's only going to be Delvin, the four us, and a couple of servants, and I know how to handle them."

"It's too risky."

"It's too risky!" she said, mocking me. "Everything you do is a fucking risk. Are you in or not?"

"Come on, Holly," Megan pleaded. "It won't be the same if you're not there."

What Megan really meant was that she didn't want to be left alone with the more frivolous half of our foursome.

"Holly's going to watch us through the peep hole," Brittany said, making a funny face.

Angelique kept staring at me with those enormous blue eyes of hers, willing me to submit to the demands of the group.

"Are you in or not?" she asked again, tapping the underside of my bare feet with her own in a playful manner.

"I thought you wanted him all to yourself anyway," I said, feeling myself slowly acquiesce as I thought of his sexy smile.

"Not tonight," she said. "I have other plans in mind for him tonight."

"Like what?" I asked, finding this humorous.

"You have to be there to find out," she replied. "So, are you in?"

We're just going to smoke a little pot right?"


"And then what?"

She looked at me with a hint of annoyance.

"I don't know. Maybe listen to some of his CDs, you know...play around a little..."

Brittany laughed aloud. "Angelique wants to play around with his big horse dick!"

"You mean his donkey dong!" Megan offered.

"I didn't say that!" my cousin snapped.

End of Chapter 1

11:24 Gepost door Pé de Cenoura | Permalink | Commentaren (0) |  Facebook |

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