Aunt Phoebe's Masturbatorium Ch. 03 by fmcchris,fmcchris

“Yes,” I replied. “What’s his name?”

“Antares.”

“That’s the name of a star, isn’t it?”

“A giant, red star in the constellation of Scorpio,” she said. “You should know. It’syoursign!”

I hated it when Angelique got the upper hand with me, but I ignored her outburst.

“Are you going to ride him?”

“Right now. Want to watch me?”

“Sure.”

Angelique placed a blanket on the horse’s back and then secured the saddle. I followed her as she led Antares out into the coral.

“I’m just going to ride him around here today so you can see him in action,” she said, as she mounted the horse. “Would you open the gate please?”

I did as she requested and watched as the horse and his rider broke into a full gallop. I was amazed at how skilled a horsewoman Angelique was, as she rode Antares in a wide circuit around the estate, leaping hurdles and other obstacles with the greatest of ease. Ten minutes later she and Antares were back in the coral, her face flushed and happy.

“Every time I ride this horse it happens,” she laughed as she dismounted.

“What?”

“What do you think?”

“I can’t read your mind, Angelique.”

“Look at my face,” she said.

“You’re out of breath.”

“No, you twit. I had an orgasm!”

I laughed out loud. “Are you kidding?”

“No,” she replied. “Look! He’s excited too!”

She pointed to the underside of the horse, where I discovered a long, black tube of flesh protruding from its underbelly. I stood there with a grin on my face.

“That happens sometimes when I brush him or when I ride him for a while,” she informed me as she led the horse into the stable.

“It’s so long!” I remarked as I watched the erect penis snake back and forth. “I guess you must turn him on.”

She laughed. “Sometimes I wonder what’s going on in that little brain of his. You’re a naughty boy, Antares!”

The horse whinnied loudly in response to her rebuke, but she petted him gently on his forehead and he quickly calmed down. After she had put him back in his stall and fed him, we took a walk in my aunt’s garden. I had never seen so many different varieties of flowers in bloom at one time, and the air was sweet with their fragrant aroma. There was a lovely gazebo in the garden, which was made out of white wicker and contained several tables and chairs of the same design. Angelique indicated that we should stop there and rest for a while.

“Don’t say it,” she began even before I had a chance to sit down. “I know what you’re going to ask me.”

“Well, I’m going to ask anyway,” I replied. “What the hell is going on?”

She sat down in a chair a few feet away from me and thought a moment, as if trying to decide how much of her secret she should reveal.

“You remember Lenore, don’t you?”

At the mention of the woman’s name I felt a twinge of nervousness come over me.

“Yes,” I replied.

“Well, she’s coming here tomorrow night for dinner and she wants to see you.”

My heart sank. Despite my silence this past year, I could not get out of my head that the Sisterhood might have somehow discovered that I had infiltrated their secret meeting and witnessed their peculiar rituals. And now I would have to pay the price of my transgression.

“Why does she want to see me?” I asked, the words catching in my throat.

“Because she likes you,” Angelique said, smiling. “And she wants you to become a member of our Society.”

My eyes widened. “OurSociety?”

“Yes, our Society. Mom and I already belong to it.”

“What’s the name of this Society?” I asked, feeling my anxiety increase.

“‘The Philanthropic Society of Paris,'” she answered. “It’s a very big charitable organization that holds these huge meetings several times a year in different parts of the world. All kinds of rich and famous people go to these things. The last meeting was held in Stockholm, Sweden about three months ago. We had a fantastic time.”

I relaxed a little at this news, but not completely; not where the Sisterhood was concerned.

“Why does she want to invite me? I’m not rich or famous.”

“I told you, she likes you,” Angelique said, sensing my unease. “Of course mom pulled a few strings too. Is there something wrong with that? You don’t look happy.”

It seemed to me that membership in this mysterious Society was a big deal to Angelique, and I didn’t want to diffuse her enthusiasm by appearing too suspicious of it, which would put me in the uncomfortable position of having to explain my anxiety—and that, of course, was impossible to do.

“I guess I’m still tired from my trip,” I lied.

“Well, all I know is that it’s a great honor to be invited, and you should be glad Lenore thinks so highly of you.”

That Lenore had desired to bestow upon me her lavish attentions the last time we met was no secret to anyone. My aunt had intimated as much. But the thought that she somehow knew about my deception made me wary.

“So, that’s this big business project you and your mother are involved in? Raising money for poor people?”

“It goes far beyond that, Holly,” she replied coolly.

“How far?”

“I can’t tell you. But my mom and Lenore will explain a lot more about it tomorrow night. Just act surprised. My mother will kill me if she finds out I told you anything.”

“But why all the secrecy?” I asked. “Don’t you think it’s kind of strange?”

My cousin looked at me with an expression almost bordering upon sympathy.

“Look, I went through the same thing, okay? It’s like a test. She wants to see if you’re…I don’t know…worthy.

“Worthy? Of what?”

“Please, Holly. I can’t tell you anything else.”

With that she rose from her chair and told me we should get ready for dinner. On the way back I asked her several more questions, but all I received were a few cryptic responses or dead silence. The famous Angelique stubbornness was in full force.

Neither my aunt or Angelique made any mention of their unique enterprise at the dinner table that evening, and I felt no desire to broach the subject. For one thing, I was exhausted; the effects of my long trip finally beginning to take their toll upon me. For another, I felt it impolite to raise the issue since neither of them seemed inclined to discuss it. I would simply have to wait for tomorrow and hope that my tiredness would send me into blissful oblivion, where Lenore, and all thoughts of the Sisterhood, would be mercifully expunged.

I finally got to bed around 9:00 PM and enjoyed a sound and dreamless sleep. I awoke twelve hours later feeling rejuvenated, luxuriating in the scent of honeysuckle that wafted in through the window from the garden below. I slowly got out of bed and walked toward the source of the delicious aroma, sticking my head out to look down upon the oasis of flowers below and lustily drinking in their fragrance. It was a glorious day, the sun shining brightly in a cloudless sky.

After spending a few minutes gazing at the scenery from my window, I decided to take a shower and get dressed. I put on a pair of jeans, sneakers, and t-shirt, and walked into the hallway where I found a door in the northern wall that led out onto the castle’s parapet. I walked along the narrow causeway until I reached the northern wall, and was greeted with a most spectacular view of the entire Anjou estate.

My hair had grown very long over the past year, reaching halfway down my back. The wind, much more powerful on the castle rooftop, now blew it in all directions as I fought to keep it under control. As I stood there admiring the breathtaking view, I saw my aunt Phoebe and Angelique exit the main entrance of the castle. My aunt was dressed in a lovely lavender suit and carried a small valise in her hands. A moment later a black limousine pulled up and stopped in front of the entrance. I saw Jake get out of the car and open the rear door of the vehicle for my aunt, who said something to Angelique before getting in. The car then drove off, leaving my cousin looking somewhat annoyed. She went back into the house and I decided to get some breakfast and find out what was going on.

I found Angelique in the foyer as I came downstairs. She was dressed in a pair of white shorts and matching top, and her sneakers were full of mud. She was removing them as I approached her.

“Where’s your mother off to?” I asked.

“Oh!” she said, startled. “So you’re finally up. You slept a long time.”

“I think it’s because the air is so clean here. No smog, like in LA.”

She took both soiled shoes and placed them neatly to one side.

“I was going to pick some roses but it must have rained last night and I stepped right in a pile of mud.”

“So, where did she go?” I asked again.

“I don’t know. She doesn’t tell me everything. Are you hungry?”

“Starved.”

“Ask the cook to make you some breakfast. I’m going to ride Antares for a while. See you in an hour.”

She ran down the hall toward her bedroom without another word.

I had the cook prepare a sumptuous breakfast of poached eggs, croissants, strawberries, and juice, after which I decided to take a walk in the vineyard. I said hello to the locals who had been employed to harvest the delicious fruit, but as my French was somewhat limited, I really couldn’t hold much of a conversation with anyone. Sampling some of the delectable-looking grapes for myself, I spent another half hour just walking around enjoying the beautiful scenery, hoping to stave off the trepidation I was feeling at meeting Lenore once again.

It was not that I feared Lenore per se, but rather the magnitude of her power over so many other seemingly powerful women, all of whom had shown—at least from what I had seen at my aunt’s initiation the previous year—the most absolute loyalty to her. As a wielder of such power, she really didn’t have to lift a finger in order to have her directives obeyed. All she had to do was speak the word and her whim would be served. And if that meant finding a way of silencing me, it could easily be accomplished without getting her own hands dirty.

As I walked down the narrow, muddied lanes separating the rows of ripening fruit, some of which still bore traces of rain from the previous evening’s storm, I began to think that maybe the entire idea of inviting me to become a member of her “philanthropic” society was nothing more than an elaborate scheme to lull me into a false sense of security so that she could get rid of me via some clandestine means manufactured to look like an accident. And the idea that my aunt might possibly be involved in this scheme made me shudder. Of course, all my feelings were based upon the presumption that my secret had somehow been found out, and was only waiting for the proper time and place for its disclosure and my subsequent dissolution. Of course, there was also the possibility that my secret was safe and that the invitation was genuine. But it was the uncertainty of the situation that was causing me the most anguish, and I knew that if my worst fears were realized, I would have to face them alone, far away from the sheltering influence of home and family.

Yet, the image of Lenore as an evil, heartless ringleader of an international gang of women cutthroats was not consistent with the persona she presented to the outside world. She had always been warm and engaging to anyone she met, and she had always treated me with the utmost consideration. Even during Andre Wilkins’s “performance,” when he had dared to question another Sisterhood member’s authority, she did not show any sign of cruelty or malice toward him. Although she did deliver a harsh reprimand condemning his boldness, she employed no verbal or physical abuse in his chastisement, nor did she allow anyone else to do so. This thought offered me some temporary comfort as I made my way toward the main building where all the wine was stored.

There were several men working just outside the entrance to the storehouse, hauling heavy crates filled with wine bottles onto a truck. They smiled at me as they went about their work, and one man, who appeared to be a foreman of sorts, walked over to me carrying a bottle of wine in his hands.

“Bon jour, mademoiselle,” he said, smiling as he offered me the bottle. “This is from our most recent harvest. I think you will enjoy it.”

“Thank you,” I replied, accepting the gift. “I didn’t think anyone here spoke English.”

“Most of them don’t, but I do.”

I was immediately taken by his rugged good looks and the gentle, brown eyes that seemed both friendly and mysterious at the same time. I don’t think he was much older than I was. He was dressed simply, as most of the other workers were, in a pair of jeans and a plain, white t-shirt. His long, brown hair, thick and unruly, fell into his eyes as he spoke.

“I saw you coming from a mile away,” he said, looking in the direction from which I had come. “You looked sad, so I thought maybe this would cheer you up.” He tapped on the bottle. “It’s a little sweet, but I think it will suit you.”

“That was very thoughtful of you,” I said, looking up at him.

For a few moments we stood there smiling dumbly at each other saying nothing. And then, realizing we had not introduced ourselves, he extended his hand to me.

“My name is Jacques LaSalle. I am the overseer of the Anjou vineyards. You are madame Anjou’s niece?”

“Yes,” I said, accepting his hand. “My name is Holly McKenzie.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Holly,” he said, holding onto my hand a little longer than might be considered customary. But, for some reason, his presumption did not seem to bother me. Maybe it was because I sensed a genuineness about him that made me feel comfortable in his presence, and which also made him reluctant to break the physical connection between us.

“You speak English very well,” I noted.

“Your aunt was the one responsible for my education…and this job.”

“Really?” I asked with surprise. “She put you through school?”

“Yes. She has helped many people in this country to obtain an education through her scholarship programs. She is a most remarkable woman.”

He turned away just then to bark some orders to his men and then resumed.

“After I graduated from the University, she offered me a job running her winery business. I’ve been working here for three years now and I am very happy.”

It was now very plain to see why my aunt had been so busy this past year, and explained, in part, her sporadic communication with my family during that time. Her marital problems, the acquisition and maintenance of the Anjou estate, and her involvement with her philanthropic enterprises must have made incredible demands upon her time, not to mention her mental and physical energies. To now learn that Jacques had been a direct recipient of her benefaction made me proud of her.

“I’m happy for you, Jacques,” I said. “It’s a beautiful place to work.”

“Speaking of which,” he said. “I must get back to it. It was a pleasure meeting you.”

“Thanks for the wine. Maybe we’ll see each other again.”

“I’m sure we will,” he said warmly.

He went back to issuing commands to the men on the truck as I made my way back toward the castle. At about midpoint in my journey, just as I was clearing the last row of vineyards, a middle-aged man, who was kneeling and picking grapes, called to me.

“Mademoiselle,” he said, as he continued to gather bunches of grapes into a large wicker basket. “Parler vous français?”

“No, monsieur,” I replied, stopping to watch him at his task.

He seemed to me to be around 50 years old, and was dressed in a pair of gray slacks and white, short-sleeve shirt. On his head he wore a large sombrero for protection from the sun. He was an attractive man, with finely chiseled features and a full, black beard. He stopped what he was doing for a moment and smiled at me.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “No kiss for me today?”

To hear him suddenly speak perfectly good English startled me.

“My aunt is expecting me,” I said, backing away in response to his rather forward comment.

As I turned to go, he burst out laughing, and rose to his feet with his arms outstretched.

“Holly, wait! It’s me! It’s your uncle Pierre!”

I turned to look at him, still not recognizing the face, but his voice was familiar enough.

“Is that really you, uncle?” I said.

“Yes, of course it’s me!” he chuckled. “You’ve never seen me with a beard that’s all. It covers half my face!”

As I continued to stare at him I realized that it was indeed my uncle.

“Oh, my God! It is you!” I cried, running into his arms. “I’m sorry uncle. I didn’t recognize you!”

He held me close to him for a long time and kissed both my cheeks.

“You have become a young lady!” he said, holding my face in the palms of his hands. “It’s been two years since I’ve seen you last, is it not?”

“I think so,” I replied. “But what are you doing here?”

“Your aunt told me you were coming to visit, and I come here a few times a month anyway to check on the grapes, so I thought I would say hello to my beautiful niece.”

“But doesn’t this vineyard belong to aunt Phoebe now?”

“Of course. But my name still goes on the label. She knows I stop by here on my way to my other vineyards.”

“You have other vineyards?”

“Oh, yes. This is only one of several that I own. The castle too—it is only one of many.”

I had never realized the extent of my uncle’s wealth or power. I mistakenly believed that the castle and vineyards were his sole possessions. To learn that these properties were only part of a much more vast collection impressed me greatly.

We exchanged a few more pleasantries and then he gathered his things together and we headed back in the direction I had come, where he told me he had left his car.

“I’ll drive you to the house,” he said, as he put the basket of fruit in the back seat of his Porsche. “I was on my way there to see you before I decided to pick a few grapes. Is your aunt at home?”

“No, but Angelique is.”

“Good. I want to talk to her.”

As we pulled up to the front entrance of the castle, we found Angelique bestride Antares, having just returned from her morning ride. Father and daughter exchanged greetings and she dismounted, leading the horse to the stable with her father in tow. It appeared to me that he wanted to speak to her in private, so I went into the house and, as it was close to noon, had the cook prepare a light lunch and sat out in the courtyard to enjoy it.

About 15 minutes later I heard the sound of raised voices coming from the opposite side of the courtyard. It was Angelique and her father, and they were arguing about something. There were too many trees and statuary in the way for either of us to see the other, but the acoustics were such that I could hear every word.

“What your mother is doing is a disgrace,” my uncle said. “It’s shameful.”

“What you did to her was shameful, papa,” Angelique replied. “And please keep your voice down. She might hear us.”

“Let her hear. What do I care? The girl should be told the truth anyway.”

“She’ll be told when my mother decides to tell her. You gave her your word.”

There was a pause, and then I heard a loud bang, like that of a fist making contact with a resonant surface.

“It’s disgraceful I say!” my uncle said angrily. “Why did she have to…this ridiculous thing in my face?”

He broke off speaking in English in mid-sentence, making loud exclamations in French, which I could not understand.

“It’s not ridiculous and it’s not your property anymore, papa. Let it go.”

“I could understand when these…these events took place in the city. But this is degrading!”

“That all depends on your point of view,” Angelique said impassively. “I think they’re lots of fun.”

“Sacré mère!” my uncle exclaimed. “She thinks they are lots of fun! It doesn’t bother you that you use people in this way?”

“You use people, too, papa—in your business, your…affairs. You even used mom to shelter some of your shady business deals, so please don’t preach morals to me.”

For a moment it grew quiet, and all I could hear was the sound of the wind rustling in the trees. I wanted desperately to know exactly what it was that had provoked my uncle’s resentment and condemnation, but nothing specific could be deduced from the content of their conversation. What “ridiculous thing” was my uncle referring to? And what was so “disgraceful” about it?

“You are my daughter, Angelique,” my uncle said, breaking the silence. “And I love you very much. I am sorry that I hurt you and your mother, but you’re involvement with these people can only lead to no good. I want you to stop seeing them.”

“I’m sorry, papa, but you can no longer tell me what to do.”

The finality of the retort caused another long, uncomfortable silence. And then I caught a brief glimpse of my uncle as he stormed out of the courtyard, looking very distraught. As he reached the door leading into the house, he turned around sharply and faced his daughter.

“I am not coming back,” he said emphatically. “I will not step foot in this house until you and your mother come to your senses. And you can tell her I said so.”

Without waiting for a reply, he turned and quickly exited the courtyard.

I didn’t see Angelique for the rest of the day, and knowing that her dispute with her father would have put her in a decidedly sullen mood, I thought it best not to seek her company. I returned to my bedroom and made some entries in my journal, and then put on my bathing suit and went for a swim in my aunt’s indoor pool. I swam for about an hour and then took a nap on one of the lounge chairs. I fell asleep quickly, waking up several hours later to see the sun dipping low in the western sky.

It was now almost 6:30 PM, and I was feeling hungry and a little chilly. I threw my towel around me and headed up to my room, encountering not a single servant along the way, which I thought strange. Even the kitchen was deserted. So much for dinner I thought.

After I had showered and dressed, I made my way to the kitchen to find something to eat. The refrigerator was full of all different kinds of food that required time-consuming preparation, and I was not in the mood to spend several hours in such a task. After some searching, I came across a plate of cold lamb chops, which I cut into several thin pieces and placed between two slices of bread. I then poured myself a glass of wine and sat down at the kitchen table to eat. I had only taken a few mouthfuls when my cousin came bursting through the door.

What the hell are you doing?” she asked gruffly.

“What does it look like?” I responded.

“Are you crazy? We’re having dinner with Lenore tonight. Did you forget?”

“No, I didn’t forget,” I replied between mouthfuls. “But I was hungry. And besides, where is everybody anyway?”

“They’ll be here in half an hour. Now put that stuff away.”

I did not like being reprimanded by my cousin, so I ignored her and took another bite of my sandwich just to show her that I was not one to jump at her commands.

“Holly, please!”

“All right, take it easy,” I said, as I slowly returned the plate of food to the refrigerator.

“What happened to the cook and all the other servants?” I asked.

“Mom sent them home.”

“Why?”

“Because Lenore requested it.”

“Lenore requested it?”

“She has her reasons.”

“And what about dinner?”

“They’re bringing home Chinese food. You like Chinese food, don’t you?”

“I like Chinese food when it’s made in LA,” I replied, shaking my head. “This is getting weirder all the time.”

Angelique laughed at my comment, showing no sign of the distress she must have felt from her previous confrontation with her father. In fact, she seemed very excited about our upcoming dinner with Lenore and her friends, and could hardly wait to get me to her bedroom to show me what dress she was going to wear for the occasion.

She pulled the doors to the armoire wide open and pulled out a simple, low-cut, black dress with lace frills on the bottom.

“How do you like it?” she asked.

“It suits you,” I replied. “Direct and to the point.”

“You better get dressed, too. It’s getting late.”

I had already chosen my outfit the day before. It was a beautiful, emerald-green dress that I had bought at one of the Parisian boutiques on a previous visit. It had always been my favorite dress, and when Angelique saw me in it she was spellbound.

“A young Elizabeth Taylor,” she said, sizing me up. “That’s who you look like. I finally figured it out.”

She had me model the dress for her, complimenting me highly on my appearance.

“Lenore is going to love you in this,” she said happily. “You have no right to be so fucking gorgeous!”

I allowed her to make some last-minute adjustments to my hair and clothes, enduring each little poke and jab with a patient sigh.

“Did you know that this dress is the same color as your eyes?” she asked as she pulled my hemline down. “Outrageous!”

I thought it incongruous that we should be dressed so formally when we were going to have a casual dinner of Chinese take-out food. But my aunt had insisted we wear our formal attire out of respect for Lenore, and I was in no position to argue the issue. Although I was still feeling nervous about meeting her, I still wanted to make a positive impression upon the older woman, if nothing more than out of respect for myself.

It was just after 8:00 PM when the front door opened and my aunt came waltzing into the foyer, where Angelique and I had remained making final adjustments to our makeup. Lenore, Justine, and Estelle followed her closely; all of them dressed in evening gowns and high heels like my aunt, as if they were going to attend some formal gala event. Jake came up behind them carrying two large bags of Chinese food.

“Leave it all on the kitchen table, Jake,” my aunt instructed him.

Jake quickly obeyed and hurried into the kitchen with his packages. As he walked past us, my aunt caught sight of us standing in the corner in front of a huge, ornate 18th-century mirror, which we had used to inspect our appearance. Upon seeing us, she stopped short and stood there with her mouth open.

“Will you look at this, Lenore?” she said. “Who are these two beautiful women?”

“Mon amour!” Lenore exclaimed as she walked over to me and kissed me on both cheeks. “How lovely you are—and so tall!”

Her warm reception seemed to me genuine enough, but the voice inside my head told me to be wary.

“It’s a pleasure to see you again Ms. Marceau,” I replied with a slight curtsey.

“No, no!” she laughed. “Call me Lenore, please. And you don’t have to be formal with me my little beauty. The gowns are just for show, not to impose restrictions upon anyone.”

Justine and Estelle greeted me in much the same fashion, commenting on how much I had seemed to mature over the past year. They hadn’t changed much themselves during that time. Both of them still sported the same short coiffure, but their auburn hair seemed to have more of a touch of red in it than I had remembered.

“I’m surprised you haven’t gone into modeling with a face like yours,” Justine said to me.

I might have asked the same of her with her beautiful smile and round, but pretty, face.

“Modeling doesn’t interest me,” I said. “I’m studying to be a writer.”

“Studying?” Estelle said. “One doesn’t study to be a writer. One is or one isn’t. The little that can be taught isn’t worth learning.”

“And how would you know?” Justine said. “What writing have you done? You’re an accountant!”

“I know a little about the arts,” Estelle said, defensively. “You have to live life in order to write about it, that much I know. Holly, you’re wasting your time in college.”

“She is not wasting her time,” my aunt chimed in. “She just doesn’t want to get by on her good looks. Come on. Let’s have dinner. I’m famished.”

We followed my aunt into the kitchen where Jake was busy arranging the food selections on the table. After he was done my aunt dismissed him and she invited each of us to help ourselves to the food, which we then carried into the dining room. My aunt sat at the head of the table with Lenore to her immediate right and Justine and Estelle taking up chairs to her left. Angelique sat next to Lenore and I took the seat next to my cousin, grateful to have a little distance between the Sisterhood leader and myself.

Having feasted on the wonderful Chinese cuisine of downtown LA all my life, I found this particular incarnation of that venerable food greatly lacking. Nonetheless, my aunt and her friends seemed to relish every bite, pausing only to speak a word of praise about how delicious the food was before taking another mouthful. We didn’t talk much at the beginning of the meal as we were all hungry, but after our appetites had been whetted somewhat, and the white wine began to take effect, the conversation began to flow freely.

Most of the talk that evening centered around rather mundane issues concerning my aunt’s and Lenore’s various business ventures, with a heaping serving of jokes thrown in for good measure. For a time the sole topic of discussion was business-related, and Angelique and I were left out of the general conversation. I could see that my cousin was getting irritated at being ignored for so long a time, and she suddenly spoke up, rudely interrupting her own mother who was in the midst of relating a funny tale.

“Dad was here today,” she said to my aunt.

“Oh,” my aunt replied, trying to hide her annoyance at her daughter’s lack of propriety. “What did he want?”

“The same complaints as usual. He said he’s not coming back.”

“He has to come back to check on the wine. Did you tell him that?”

“I don’t think he cares any more mom,” my cousin replied, sticking her fork into a piece of meat. “He doesn’t approve of…what’s going on.”

As she said this, she stole a look at Lenore and then at her mother. The older woman cleared her throat and drew herself up in her chair.

“You are not answerable to Pierre any longer, Phoebe,” Lenore said. “We can find someone else to take over production here.”

“But we are still friends,” my aunt said. “And he has great wine-making expertise. It’s just that he doesn’t like…”

“Me,” Lenore said, completing the sentence.

“And then of course…”

“Yes…that.”

My aunt suddenly looked at me as if seeing me for the first time that evening.

“Oh, Holly, I’m so sorry,” she said. “I think it’s time we told you what’s going on here.”

“That would be nice mom,” Angelique emphasized.

All eyes turned to Lenore, who sat contentedly with her wine glass in her hand. She took a sip from the glass and gently laid it back on the table.

“You have been found out, my dear Holly,” she said in an incriminating voice. “Your secret has been revealed.”

The discomfort I felt in my stomach at that moment made me regret that I had eaten so much of the barely palatable food. The moment I had dreaded for so long was now upon me and I didn’t know what to say or do. I looked from face to face, but there was no hint of pity or sympathy in any of them. Lenore’s face was the most stern of all.

“What? What secret?” I stammered.

“Phoebe,” she said. “Show her.”

My aunt lifted her handbag onto the table and withdrew a videocassette, which she handed to Justine.

“Go ahead,” she said to her associate. “Let her see it.”

Justine walked over to the television set that was standing in one corner of the room and placed the cassette into the VCR. Angelique gripped my hand hard.

“It’s going to be okay,” she whispered.

But I didn’t feel okay. And as soon as I saw the first frame I felt even worse. For there, on the television set’s 27-inch screen, was the image of a huge, black penis being furiously masturbated by two sets of hands. One of these belonged to Megan, and the other set, as one could see as the camera panned upwards to reveal the leering face, belonged to me.

“Oh, my God!” I uttered as I buried my face in my hands.

Without thinking, I stumbled out of my chair and ran out of the room, heading toward the front entrance as a chorus of women’s voices trailed after me. I flung open the front door and ran out onto the driveway where I halted after hearing Angelique’s desperate pleas for me to stop. I stood there shaking in the cool night air, angry with my cousin that she had been so careless with the incriminating tape.

“The only thing worse than this,” I said to her as she ran up behind me, “is if that tape wound up in my parent’s hands. How fucking stupid can you be?”

I was not used to using curse words as a general rule, and I never used them with Angelique, even though she felt no similar restraint in my presence. She had never seen me really angry before, and I think it shocked her because she stood silently for several moments with her mouth hanging wide open, unable to say anything.

“Are you that careless that you could allow such a thing to get out of your hands?” I said confronting her. “What did you do? Offer it as a gift to your mother?”

She did not remain shocked for long. Reaching out her hand to me, she grabbed it and pulled me to her with a violent jerk.

“Didn’t you hear what I said? I said it was going to be okay. Mom and Lenore know all about the video. Their fine with it, trust me.”

“Fine with it?” I sneered. “How can they be fine with it? It’s a goddamn porno tape!”

“Oh, there’s so much you don’t understand, Holly. Come back inside and they’ll explain everything.”

“No!” I hissed. “Do you know how embarrassed I am over this? And you! How could you set me up like that? I want to rip your fucking hair out!”

“Holly, stop it!”

It was my aunt’s voice. She was standing in the doorway with Lenore at her side, both of them looking like two truant officers who had just cornered a juvenile delinquent.

“You humiliated me,” I said to my aunt. “How could you do this?”

“There is nothing for you to be humiliated about, young lady,” Lenore said. “Your aunt found the tape by accident and brought it to me, and I’m glad she did. The tape is the reason why I had your aunt invite you here, so that I could introduce you to our Society.”

“Please, Holly, don’t make this difficult for me,” my aunt implored. “Come inside and we’ll talk. Things are not the way they seem.”

Angelique stood there quietly, waiting to see what my next move would be.

I lingered for a time considering what to do, but soon realized that my desire to get to the truth outweighed any other desire of mine. I decided that the best thing to do would be to hear them out and proceed from there. With Angelique following closely behind, I went back into the house and sat down once again at the table next to my cousin. Justine and Estelle eyed me curiously, but said nothing.

“Holly,” my aunt began. “I want you to listen very closely to what Lenore has to say. If you don’t like what you hear, we’ll say no more about it and that will be that. Fair enough?”

“I guess so.”

My aunt smiled and turned to Lenore. “Do what you think is best.”

Lenore reached for a bottle of wine and began to fill her glass. I watched as the golden liquid rose toward the top, the little bubbles reflecting the light like miniature prisms.

“I know you must have a lot of questions,” the Sisterhood leader said. “But I would like you to hear what I have to say first. If you have any questions to ask after that, I will gladly answer them. Agreed?”

I nodded my head.

“Very well.”

Before she began, she had Angelique trade places with me at the table, so that I was now sitting right next to the older woman. I had never felt more ill at ease in my life.

“I don’t want you to feel embarrassed by the fact that we saw the video. Actually, we found it quite amusing.”

“Very amusing,” Justine laughed.

“I didn’t find it amusing when I first saw it,” my aunt said to me. “Especially when Angelique told me she had engineered the whole thing. But it proved to me that she and you have a great deal in common with us. More than you know. Lenore will explain it to you.”

Lenore took a sip of wine and softly cleared her throat.

“Holly, when I met you last year,” she began, “I saw something in you that reminded me of myself at your age; a charming forthrightness, a desire for accomplishment, and the need to control and dominate the world around you.”

“You’re talking about Angelique,” I said.

“No, I’m talking about you,” Lenore replied, slightly displeased at having been interrupted.

She let her eyes fall upon my aunt Phoebe, who in turn looked at me half pleadingly.

“Okay,” I said. “I’m sorry.”

The older woman accepted my apology and continued.

“Angelique does share many of the same qualities as you, but she is a blunt tool compared to your, let’s say, more refined sensibilities.”

Lenore turned to my cousin who now sat there wearing a frown.

“Don’t be insulted, Angelique,” Lenore said. “I speak the truth and you and your mother both know it. You are headstrong and determined to have your way at all costs. And while these traits may serve you well in certain circumstances, they are not the qualities I am seeking in a protégé.”

Angelique seemed to take this news with casual indifference rather than with disappointment, as if she had been expecting such a disclosure.

“You, on the other hand,” Lenore said turning to me, “possess great insight and flexibility in your dealings with others. And, most importantly, you temper your judgment by considering all circumstances, not just those that suit you. This is the mark of a true leader.”

Lenore smiled as she said this, and I noticed that both Justine and Estelle nodded their heads in agreement with their superior’s estimation of my psychological profile. But my aunt’s face looked sad as she stole a glance at her daughter, who now sat with her hands folded on the table looking pensive. By the looks on both their faces, I surmised that this issue had been discussed previously between all of them, and that they knew what to expect. I, however, had to wonder how Lenore had managed such a prodigious feat of psychoanalysis upon me given our limited contact. I could only imagine that our original encounter had made such an impression upon her that she could not help but arrive at this singular determination.

“From what I have seen,” Lenore continued, “and from what your aunt has told me about you, I would like to invite you to become a member of our Philanthropic Society, and to serve alongside me as my protégé in the administration of its duties.”

I forced myself to react with surprise to this news, since Angelique had already warned me that the offer would be made.

“It’s a great honor,” Justine said to me. “No one your age has ever been admitted before.”

“Or to such a position of power,” Estelle agreed.

I could tell that my aunt was happy for me, yet equally dismayed that her own daughter had been passed over in my favor. Angelique forced a smile, the foreknowledge of Lenore’s decision seeming to have less effect upon her than my aunt.

“Well,” Lenore asked me. “What do you have to say to that?”

“I’m…flattered.” I stammered. “I had no idea you thought of me so highly.”

“Nonsense. I can recognize superior quality when I see it.”

“Thank you,” I said graciously. “May I ask what this Society does?”

“Simply put, it is a Society of women such as myself, your aunt, and others who possess a genuine desire to promote humanitarian efforts throughout the world. We have chapters in over 30 countries, but our corporate headquarters are based here in Paris. We have a very aggressive outreach program spearheaded by some of the most wealthy and influential women in the world. Our intent is to provide money and resources to fund educational and social improvement programs to developing countries, as well as offering charitable services on a global scale. Our ultimate aim is to create a better world by virtue our humanitarianism. Does that sound like an organization you would choose to belong to?”

Despite my cousin’s divulging Lenore’s proposal, I nonetheless felt a tinge of pride at being singled out for such an honor by a woman as powerful as Lenore. Yet I could not help but believe that this “humanitarian” society—regardless of the claims made for it by its leader—was something more than it appeared to be on the surface. Knowing the secretive nature of the Sisterhood, I had to consider that the Society was nothing more than a phantom organization designed purposely to shelter a more proactive Society within.

“It sounds very interesting,” I replied. “But it also sounds like it would require a lot of my time. I’m still in college, you know.”

“I realize that. All we would ask of you in the beginning is to devote a portion of your summer vacation to learn and participate in our programs. I can assure you that it will be a very rewarding experience for you.”

“And you will act as my mentor?”

“Yes.”

I found myself staring at her longer than what might be considered appropriate, and she responded by lowering her gaze. I didn’t mean to be disrespectful, but I think I was trying to search her face for some clue to possible motives that lay hidden behind her placid expression. From what Angelique had intimated, I knew that there had to be a reason as to why she wanted me to be a part of this organization that went far beyond the explanation she had offered.

“I’ll have to think about it,” I said, staring the older woman in the face.

Lenore’s expression registered at first surprise and then dismay as she sought the eyes of my aunt and her two associates—all of whom seemed equally puzzled at my reluctance to jump at her offer. I don’t think she had expected the response she received, but she forced a smile nonetheless

“Take all the time you need,” she said politely. “There’s no rush.”

Behind her words was a tinge of disappointment. That I did not readily accept her invitation did not sit well with either Justine or Estelle.

“Holly, I don’t think you understand what Lenore is trying to do,” Justine began. “This is an opportunity…”

“Justine, let it go,” Lenore said softly.

“But she doesn’t…”

“This is not your decision to make,” Lenore said, slightly raising her voice. “Holly is being prudent and we will say no more about it.”

Justine desisted in arguing further, but I could tell that she was greatly displeased at being preempted by her superior.

“May I say something?” Estelle said, raising her hand.

“What is it?” Lenore replied hastily.

“Why don’t you just tell Holly the truth? After all, we’ve seen the video. We know what her character is like, and she is Phoebe’s niece. I think she can handle it.”

“I agree,” Justine quickly jumped in.

“Me too,” Angelique added. “I think you should tell her.”

Lenore gave my cousin a bemused look, but turned to my aunt.

“You’re the one who wanted to play this close to the vest, Phoebe,” she said. “I leave it in your hands.”

My aunt sat there studying me, her chin resting in the palm of her hand. She was a brilliant tactician, my aunt Phoebe, letting Lenore conduct my interview while quietly evaluating my responses. She must have liked what she heard because she smiled at me and poured herself another glass of wine.

“Everything Lenore has told you is the truth,” she said to me. “But there is another, shall we say, ‘aspect’ to our Society that only a very privileged few know about. After seeing the video and after the way you conducted yourself here tonight, I think we can trust you to keep our secret.”

“Are you sure, Phoebe?” Lenore asked. “It is still kind of early.”

“I think she’s ready, Lenore,” my aunt replied without taking her eyes off me.

“Go ahead, mom. Tell her the whole thing,” Angelique said with some impatience.

“I intend to,” my aunt replied.

Justine and Estelle seemed greatly pleased by my aunt’s decision, but Lenore looked a bit concerned. I think she felt that my indoctrination was proceeding a bit too fast for her liking, but her deference toward my aunt made it obvious that she was not the one to make the final decision. Angelique had no reservations about the truth being revealed to me. She simply sat there with a big grin on her face, growing more fidgety with each passing moment, even ticking me under my arm to emphasize her growing excitability.

“Holly,” my aunt began, “I discovered your little contribution to the pornographic industry a few weeks after you left San Diego. I caught Angelique and her friends watching it one evening when she thought I was out. At first I was shocked. But then my shock turned to amusement, and gradually I realized that you girls really enjoyed controlling Delvin the way you did. And controlling men for our pleasure and amusement is that ‘aspect’ of our Society I was telling you about. In Angelique’s case, we found that we had more in common than we knew. It was a revelation for both of us, and she now serves in the Society—actually ‘Sisterhood’ is the proper name for it—as my second in command.”

Upon hearing the name “Sisterhood” spoken aloud after such a long time made me feel decidedly uncomfortable. I tried my best not to show my feelings because I didn’t want to give them any inclination that I possessed any knowledge of their secret organization. But my old fears nonetheless returned, despite the smiling faces surrounding me.

“In your case, however,” she continued, “I had to be more circumspect because of your nosy mother. That’s why I had to get you away from her: to find out if you had what it takes to be a member of our group. I see now that you do.”

“That video was made while we were all under the influence of marijuana,” I said. “We all got carried away.”

“It doesn’t matter. By itself that drug couldn’t have induced you to act the way you did. Some part of you truly enjoys being in control. You and Angelique have that in common.”

She paused at this point to look at her daughter and then at me.

“I was disappointed when Lenore chose you to be her protégé instead of my daughter. The funny thing was, Angelique wasn’t bothered by it at all. Do you find that surprising?”

“Yes,” I replied, turning to my cousin.

Angelique frowned. “I’m like John the Baptist to your Christ,” she said to me. You’re the Chosen One.”

“And all of you know why I chose Holly,” Lenore interjected. “We needn’t go over that again.”

“No need at all,” my aunt agreed.

“Wait a minute,” I said. “What do you mean, ‘Chosen One’?”

Lenore looked at me hard.

“If you choose to join us you will be trained under my tutelage to one day take my place as head of the Sisterhood.”

Several moments passed in awkward silence as I tried unsuccessfully to absorb this new information. It was only when I began to feel Angelique’s fingers digging into my ribs that I realized that my mouth had been wide open for too long a time and that the women were beginning to look at me as if I had suddenly gone mute.

“What… what did you say?” I finally managed to blurt out, unable to conceal my dumbfounded expression.

Lenore turned to my aunt with a look that made me think she was now regretting ever having made the statement. It was so quiet at that moment that all I could hear was the sound of the grandfather clocking ticking in the corner of the room.

“Holly,” my aunt said in an almost patronizing tone, “Lenore has chosen you to succeed her and you should regard this as a great honor. However, we can’t force you to join us. You must come to that decision on your own.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Never in my life did I ever expect to become involved with the Sisterhood, let alone be chosen to one day become its supreme leader. I had spent the better part of a year trying to forget about the mysterious society of women for fear of being found out, and here I was being solicited for membership. It was all quite surreal to me.

“I can’t imagine why you would choose someone like me,” I said to Lenore, “when you must have other, more qualified, candidates.”

“A lot of people will be disappointed if you become my protégé,” she said. “But after much thought I came to realize that we need new blood in this organization— someone who can lead us in a new direction, with new ideas, new leadership. I believe that person is you.”

She said this with perfect sincerity. And as I looked around the table I noticed that everyone else had that same expectant look on their faces, as if by their entreating expressions I could be induced to acquiesce and accept my place within the Sisterhood.

“I don’t know about this,” I said feeling overwhelmed. “I will need to learn more about this…Sisterhood before making a decision.”

“It’s not an easy decision to make,” my aunt said. “But there is something we can show you that may help you to decide.”

“Do you think that is wise?” Lenore asked my aunt.

“We all agreed to tell Holly the truth. We may as well show her everything.”

“Yes, mom,” Angelique said, rising abruptly from her chair. “Let’s show her the Masturbatorium!”

Everyone happily agreed with this suggestion except for Lenore, who although smiling, seemed a bit unsure if I was prepared to undertake the voyage into the Sisterhood’s most sacrosanct world.

“Follow me,” my aunt said.

As we walked down the hallway toward her study I began to feel a sense of anxiety sweep over me, curious to see what this ‘Masturbatorium’ actually was, yet fearing that I might never get out of it alive. For some strange reason, I couldn’t get the thought out of my head that this entire thing was merely a setup, and that I was soon going to be punished for spying on them.

Upon entering the study, my aunt directed our attention toward a wall full of books that stretched from one end of the room to the other.

“No, we didn’t take a wrong turn,” she said to me, noticing my puzzled expression.

“But I thought we were going to the…”

“We are. Watch.”

As she said this, she pressed a button on a small, black, metal box she had been carrying in her purse, and moments later the bookcase moved slowly inwards, revealing a lit corridor behind it.

“This entrance is used only by me and the other chapter leaders,” my aunt said to me. “Everyone else uses the entrance on the north side of the gate.”

I looked at her with surprise.

“Are you saying that the Masturbatorium is…here?”

“The dungeon was completely refurbished over the past six months. You’re in for a treat.”

“But I always thought…”

Realizing that I was almost on the verge of admitting prior knowledge of the mysterious place, I quickly shut my mouth. However, it was not enough to prevent Lenore from inquiring further.

“You always thought…what?” she asked me in a decidedly suspicious tone.

I almost felt as if a gun was being put to my head, and I was forced to think quickly. If I fumbled for an answer I knew she would push me until she discovered the truth, and that would most likely spell my doom.

“I, ah, assumed that from what you told me that the Masturbatorium would be a…you know…enormous place. I had no idea it would be in someone’s home.”

Lenore seemed content with my quick response, but she continued to stare me down for several moments, looking for any perceived weakness in my defense of myself. She had seemed so friendly to me that it was disconcerting to find her so ready to go on the defensive at the mere implication of a possible betrayal. But then I had to remind myself that this was a woman who, although kindly enough to those whom she counted her friends, could be ruthlessly ambitious in her determination to weed out those whom she considered a possible threat.

“The Masturbatorium had been located in Paris for many years,” my aunt said, as she wedged her body between the narrow passage way. “But we’ve outgrown it. Everything that was there has now been moved here.”

“Now you know why mom and I have been so busy,” Angelique added, following immediately behind her mother.

We walked down a long corridor at the end of which was an elevator. The sound of our high heels striking the concrete floor below reverberated in the expansive hallway, but no one said anything until we were all inside the elevator. Angelique pressed a button and I felt the elevator begin to slowly descend. I noticed that there were several sublevels and wondered how this was possible.

“The infrastructure was here of course,” my aunt informed me. “The old dungeon had three levels. All I did was modernize everything.”

“But why?” I asked. “Why go to all this trouble?”

“The secret to a more civilized world is via the control of men by women,” my aunt Phoebe said to me. “That is the purpose of the Masturbatorium. You will see many things here tonight, Holly. All I ask is that you keep an open mind.”

Within seconds the elevator ceased its motion and the doors opened to reveal a small antechamber and a single small door through which, I presumed, we were to pass through. Without another word, my aunt placed a key into the door lock and opened it, inviting us all to go through.

“Prepare yourself to enter a strange, new world, Holly,” my aunt said as I watched first Lenore and then Estelle and Justine pass through the door. “Angelique and I will be your guides on your journey. Stay close to us and don’t wander about on your own.”

“I’ll keep an eye on her mom,” Angelique said, grabbing my hand.

My cousin pulled me gently through the door with my aunt close behind. The two of them laughed when they saw my eyes open wide with astonishment. I felt like Alice who had just discovered another world on the opposite side of the looking glass.

“Oh, my God!” I exclaimed, as I allowed my eyes to scan the area from left to right. “It’s so…so big!”

“The room size is equal to the square area of the castle itself,” my aunt said proudly.

“But all these people!” I exclaimed. “How did they get here?”

“A shuttle bus takes them from the winery through an underground tunnel that passes under the north gate.”

“That’s amazing. I would have never guessed. It’s like a world of its own. And you say there are several more levels below?”

“Yeah,” Angelique said with a sinister laugh. “For the more intense sessions.”

I was going to ask her what she meant but I was too astounded by what I was seeing to question her. The only thing I could compare it to would be an airport concourse, replete with tables, chairs, period furniture, and accoutrements of all kinds contained within a vast array of splendid set pieces, kiosks, and alcoves that ran along the periphery of the room. The entire middle area was left vacant of any furnishings except for a large circular bar and buffet table from which drinks and food were being served. I noticed immediately that all the women were dressed as we were, and that the bartenders and the serving staff were all male; all of them scantily clad in only a pair of thongs and a bow tie. At first no one seemed to notice our presence, but one of the women in the crowd came running over to us as soon as she saw my aunt and called her friends over in a hasty display of gushing affection.

“There you are Phoebe!” the woman said extending her arms out toward my aunt. “You look wonderful!”

She was tall, beautiful, and spoke in an Italian accent.

“Thank you, my dear,” my aunt replied, as she allowed herself to be hugged. “You look lovely as ever.”

As soon as my aunt said the woman’s name, I remembered who she was. Her name was Felicia Antonetti, and she had been one of the women in attendance at the Sisterhood meeting I had unwittingly spied upon a year ago in my aunt’s study. Seeing her up close made me appreciate her beauty even more.

“But where is Lenore?” Felicia asked, smiling. “I thought I saw her come through the door with your two associates.”

“They were here a minute ago,” my aunt replied. “I would like you to meet my niece. This is Holly McKenzie. She’s my sister’s kid who is visiting with us from Los Angeles.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Holly,” Felicia said, as she took my hand in hers. “You are very beautiful.”

“Thank you,” I said, finding her affable nature most appealing.

Felicia then hugged and kissed Angelique as the other women in her entourage began to flock around us.

It didn’t take long for my aunt to be besieged by these well-meaning but pushy women who all but dominated her attentions until she was forced to raise her voice for silence. I recognized several of them from the previous year’s meeting, and one of them, Janet Walsh, whose incredibly lovely legs had been christened with a half-gallon of Andre Wilkins’s sperm, seemed the most annoying.

“One of your waiters says that you ran out of whipped cream,” Janet complained to my aunt. “How am I going to have my ice cream without it? You know how much I love whipped cream, Phoebe. He should be punished.”

Suddenly Lenore peeped her head out from behind the crowd.

“Oh, shut up about your whipped cream,” she said to Janet. “Phoebe’s got her niece with her tonight and no one wants to hear about your problems.”

“Oh, really?” Janet replied, as she looked me over. “Are you the niece?”

“This is Holly, everybody,” my aunt said. “And I don’t want to hear any mention of business tonight. Angelique and I are going to take her on the grand tour.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful!” said a woman I recognized as Gertrude. “There is much to see.”

“That’s correct,” my aunt said. “So the sooner we get going, the better. Ladies, I’ll see you all a little later.”

Lenore made sure that our progress was not further impeded by the lively bunch of females, and she had both Justine and Estelle run interference for us as my aunt, my cousin, and I made our way toward a set of stairs on the far side of the room. On our way I noticed many familiar faces—celebrities, musicians, politicians, and others who were engaged in conversations of their own. As we passed some of them, they would acknowledge my aunt with a nod of the head or a quick hello. As I mentioned earlier, there was not one man among them with the exception of the wait staff.

“Are you thirsty Holly?” Angelique asked.

“I could go for a club soda,” I replied.

With merely a nod of her head, the nearest waiter immediately drew up beside Angelique and took her order. He returned only moments later with my soda and bottled water for herself and her mother.

“That was quick,” I said, impressed by the man’s haste in satisfying our order.

“He’d better be,” Angelique remarked as she took a drink from the bottle.

My aunt stopped at the top of the landing and waited before descending. She seemed excited but a bit nervous all at once.

“As you know, Holly, there are more levels below this one,” she began. “This top floor is a meeting and reception area only. The floors beneath us contain what we call our “training rooms”.

“Training rooms?” I asked.

“Yes. But we are only going to visit the floor beneath us. I can’t allow you to see the other floors. Not yet. Are you ready?”

“I guess so,” I said, pondering what hidden wonders or terrors lurked below us and why I was forbidden to see them.

“Don’t feel embarrassed. Some of what you will see undoubtedly surprise you, even shock you, but it’s all done in a spirit of good will, and for the good of the Sisterhood.”

With that, she turned her back on us and beckoned her daughter and I to follow her down the long flight of stairs.

As soon as we arrived on the floor below, we followed my aunt through a large, steel door in order to pass into the main room. Upon entering, I noticed that the lighting was a bit more subdued than on the floor above. The physical layout was similar but there was less furniture and more open space in which small groups of women had gathered. And in the midst of them, one or more men, all of them naked, were engaged in various stages of subservient behavior.

“Jump!” I heard one woman say to a man whom she had walking about on hands and knees. He was wearing a dog leash, and was trying to use his teeth to grasp a piece of chicken she held over his head.

“Obedience training,” my aunt explained as I stood there half giggling, half repulsed, by the ridiculous sight.

We made a leisurely circuit around the immense room, taking in the various scenes of lewd and sometimes emasculating behavior as it played itself out in a multitude of assorted vignettes conducted by the women. We were ignored for the most part, but as we continued to circumnavigate the room, several women at last recognized my aunt and Angelique and struck up conversations with them. One of these women was a particularly beautiful, tall, blonde Swedish woman who spoke perfect English. Her friend, another lovely blonde Swede, who I found rather imposing, stood behind her amongst several other women, giving orders. The two of them were conducting what appeared to be an experiment with two young men—a tall, handsome blonde boy about 20 years old or so, and an attractive, black man who appeared to be in his mid 30s and who had the body of a weightlifter.

Upon seeing my aunt, the two women came over to us and shook hands with her.

“I can’t tell you how happy I am to see you, Christiana,” my aunt said to the shorter of the two women. “I was so hoping that Bonnie would finally come.”

“I tried to persuade her, but I guess it’s not her thing. Good evening, Angelique.”

“Hi, Dr. Swensen.”

“Please, Christiana. No need to be formal,” the pretty doctor smiled.

“Christiana, this is my niece Holly,” my aunt said. “It’s her first visit to the Masturbatorium.”

“Oh,” Christiana said to me as we shook hands. “It looks like we have something in common. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Holly.”

“Nice to meet you too, Christiana.”

“This is my friend and associate, Rebecca Hellstrom.”

“Hi Holly,” Rebecca smiled as she, too, took my hand in hers.

“Christiana and Rebecca are two very famous doctors from Stockholm,” my aunt said to me. “They invented a very amazing drug called ‘EJAX-472,’ which helps men with impotence problems. Have you ever heard of them?”

The way my aunt phrased the question, it seemed as if I should have been aware of their amazing scientific discovery.

“No, I’m sorry, I haven’t,” I replied a bit sheepishly.

The two doctors smiled at me, neither showing any indication of displeasure at my admission of ignorance.

“So, how was your flight?” my aunt asked the women.

“Uneventful, thank heavens,” Christiana answered.

“There’s something to be said for that,” my aunt said. “I’m glad you got the men to agree to come with you.”

“So am I,” Christiana replied. “They can’t wait to take part in the competition.”

“Competition?” I asked.

“The ‘Longs Shot’ Festival. Haven’t you heard of it?”

“Holly doesn’t know anything about it just yet, but she will,” my aunt said to the doctor.

Angelique laughed. “Wait till she sees Jacques!”

“Now don’t go and give everything away Angelique,” my aunt said. “There’s plenty of time for that.”

“Jacques?” I asked. “I met a guy named ‘Jacques’ in the vineyard yesterday.”

“That’s him! He’s our hero,” Angelique said. “Our ‘Mr. Long Shot’. Those two don’t stand a chance.”

She glanced at the two men who were standing several feet away. The black man stood next to the smaller white boy, both of them were completely naked and were being fondled from head to toe by a group of giggling women. There were various devices lying about on the floor around them, and it looked like the women had been working them over for some time judging by their enormous erections. I still didn’t know anything about the competition my aunt and the others were talking about and I was growing anxious to know the details.

“I remember both of them very well,” my aunt said to Christiana, noticing me watching them. “They put on quite an impressive display at your birthday party a few months ago.”

“They certainly did,” Rebecca agreed. “The most amazing thing of all is that both men seemed to have permanently gained at least another inch in penis size as a result of taking EJAX-472. By now, of course, the drug is completely out of their system, so their sperm count and ejaculatory powers are back to normal—if you want to call a 10-foot ejaculation normal.”

“Ten feet?” my aunt laughed. “Well Jacques can top that I’m sure. It should be a most interesting competition.”

“Is it true that there will be over thirty countries represented?” Christiana asked my aunt.

“That’ right. And the contestants and their trainers will be occupying this floor for the next two weeks. It’s going to be a glorious event.”

“And the proceeds all go to charity?”

“Yes.”

At this point I was no longer able to maintain my curiosity and spoke up, not caring any longer if I appeared ignorant.

“Will someone please tell me what this contest is all about?”

Suddenly I heard a voice come from behind me.

“Are they leaving you in the dark?” the voice said.

“Where have you been?” my aunt said. “I’ve been looking for you.”

It was Lenore, followed by Justine and Estelle.

“I have a man I’ve entered into the contest too, you know. I had to check up on him. Now tell Holly what she wants to know.”

“I assume you’ve met already?” my aunt said to Lenore, indicating Christiana and her associate.

“Yes, we met earlier,” Lenore replied. “How are things going with your boys?”

“Fine,” Christiana said. “We were just about to finish today’s training session.”

“Perfect!” Lenore said. “Let’s all get some chairs and watch. We can watch of course?”

“Certainly,” Christiana replied good-naturedly. “Have a seat.”

Being surrounded by all these imposing women, I suddenly felt invisible.

“What training session?” I asked my aunt. “And what’s all this talk about 10-foot ejaculations? Will someone please tell me what’s going on?”

Seeing the distraught look on my face, Angelique burst out laughing. Justine and Estelle, too, broke down into fits of laughter.

“Tell her, mom,” my cousin said.

As Christiana and Rebecca sat down next to us to go over some last-minute details, my aunt explained in an off-hand way what the contest was all about.

“As I think you already know,” she began, “helping men to relieve them of their sperm is one of the best ways to keep them docile and subservient. It is also a fantastic form of amusement for us gals. A few years ago, one of the Sisterhood members came up with an idea to hold contests in which we could use men in such a way. One of these contests is called the ‘Long Shots’ contest. A woman, or a group of women, sponsor a man whom they believe can ejaculate the farthest and then train him for a period of weeks to measure his progress. It’s kind of like a sperm Olympics. You’ll enjoy it.”

She said this in such a matter-of-fact way that I thought she was kidding.

“Are you saying that these sessions are all geared toward increasing the distance a guy shoots his sperm?”

“That’s right. We have to be careful not to keep them hard for too long because they tend to get blue balls, and that would be counterproductive. The sessions usually last for a half hour or so with an hour’s rest in between.”

Without meaning to, I laughed out loud.

“Oh, come on, aunt Phoebe!” I said. “You’ve got to be kidding!”

“She’s not kidding,” Angelique piped up. “You’ll see for yourself. Now stop laughing and pay attention.”

“You pay attention!” Lenore said suddenly to Angelique. “Don’t think I haven’t caught you masturbating some of these men to climax against competition rules.”

“It happened only once, Lenore,” my aunt said.

“Once is enough. You can’t randomly jerk these guys off. They have to be trained to cum on command by their mistresses. You know this Angelique.”

“I won’t do it again,” my cousin said flatly.

“I hope not. It’s goes against the rules of fair play and I won’t stand for it.”

My aunt was going to say something, but thought the better of it and focused her attention on the activity taking place on the platform. I could tell she was disturbed at Lenore’s rebuke of her daughter, but I was soon to learn from her and Lenore that although a man’s training techniques could be studied freely by all the women, no one but the man’s mistresses could touch his body during the training period. Angelique had clearly overstepped her bounds in assuming she was exempt from this prohibition.

As I looked around I noticed that there were many other groups of women spread out across the vast concourse, all hard at work training their own contestants and seemingly oblivious to anything except their own business. Even the group of women responsible for the training of the two men in front of me gave us little notice, being absorbed as they were with giving orders and directions to the two handsome specimens. As I watched the ladies at their work, I took the opportunity to ask Christiana who these men were.

“The big, black guy is Barney Cole,” she told me. “He was a former patient of mine at the Clinic. He learned of this contest through your aunt and decided to participate. The handsome, blonde boy you see on all fours is Craig Lundquist, another former patient. He and Barney became good friends during their stay at my Clinic and they’ve become inseparable. Great guys, the both of them. I’ll introduce you to them later.”

“That would be great,” I said, without taking my eyes off Craig.

The whole idea of this masturbatory spectacle struck me as being absolutely bizarre. But judging by the reactions of the women around me, I seemed to be the only one who thought so. This so-called “event” seemed perfectly normal to them, as if the fact that it was being held for charity was justification enough to grant it the status of a legitimate sport. I had to admit, though, that watching the men’s huge erections being manipulated by each team was delightfully erotic.

“Both Craig and Barney have the same size cock,” Angelique suddenly confided to me. “Twelve and three-quarters inches long.”

“How do you know that?” I asked.

“I measured both of them last week,” she admitted.

I had no doubt my cousin had done exactly as she said and possibly more. It was impossible for me to tell just from eye examination just how big they were, but as they were both led up to the edge of the platform it appeared that they were both as large as Angelique had claimed.

“Oh, my God, you’re right!” I said to her as I tried to contain my amazement.

“Jacques is not as big as them, but I think he can squirt farther.”

“Have you seen these guys come?”

“Not yet. But they’re both going to be jerked off very soon so mom and I will have a better idea what we’re dealing with.”

It looked as if Barney was going to be the first one to display his ejaculatory prowess. The team leader, a stunning blonde whom I recognized as co-host of a popular morning talk show and who recently had a hit show of her own, turned the huge, black man toward us and asked for our attention.

“Christiana,” she said. “We’ve just run out of your masturbation cream. Do you happen to have any with you?”

Christiana laughed. “Of course, Kelly. I never leave home without it!”

From her purse the doctor pulled out a silver tube of cream as one of the team members, the leggy brunette, Janet, came down to retrieve it.

As soon as Barney saw the tube of cream he seemed to get all excited and looked lovingly at his doctor.

“Thank you,” he said softly to Christiana.

“Now, Barney,” Lenore said. “You know the rules. Contestants are forbidden to speak until after the demonstration is complete. You will henceforth remain silent or you will be disqualified.”

Barney nodded his agreement and watched as both Janet and Kelly began to rub the cream first into their hands and then all over his cock and balls. He surrendered himself to the pleasurable feeling and let his head fall back and heaved a great sigh. As they masturbated him, several other women were hard at work on Craig, who was positioned on all fours and facing directly at us opposite Barney.

“What are you girls doing to that poor boy?” Lenore asked the team.

“We’ve found that milking him this way allows him to shoot a bigger load,” said a petite redhead who looked to be about thirty.

“That’s fine,” Lenore said. “But what about distance?”

“That’s what I mean,” the woman replied as I watched her hands disappear between his ass cheeks.

Craig’s handsome face began to contort as the myriad and talented female hands touched his body in every way imaginable, using techniques that no doubt he had himself recommended in order to obtain the best orgasm possible. Even as Barney was slowly being brought to climax by Kelly and Janet’s lovely hands, I could not take my eyes off the boy. I saw him look at me more than once and smile, and I suddenly wished I were one of the team members taking pleasure in stroking and fondling his muscular body.

“This cream is great,” Janet commented, as her hand, positioned just below Kelly’s, stroked lazily up and down the massive cock.

“I feel like I’m polishing a baseball bat,” Kelly laughed, as her hand traversed the distance from balls to tip.

Rebecca grinned. “The beauty of that cream is that it’s good for your skin and it doesn’t cause any abrasion. So you can masturbate him for extended periods without tiring yourself out or getting his dick blistered.”

“I would use some of that cream on Craig, too,” Christiana instructed Kelly. “He loves that stuff.”

I saw a big smile come across Craig’s face when he heard this news, and I was beginning to anxiously await the moment when he would show us what talents lay hidden in the depths of his heaving balls, now being rubbed vigorously by a bevy of excited women.

One girl in the group attending to him, a lovely brunette who had to be no older than myself, got her hands on the tube of masturbation cream and began to coat her palms with it. As he lay on all fours facing us, the girl fell to her knees to one side of him and began stroking his huge organ so that all of us could see. I noticed that his cock and balls were shaven, revealing a silky smooth area that was trimmed and groomed with a small patch of hair above. Craig moaned with pleasure as she gave his prick long, quick pulls that forced his body to rock back and forth. We laughed to see him being milked as if he were a cow, but our laughter only served to make the girl work harder, and make him more excited.

“How long have you been working on these boys today?” Lenore asked Christiana.

“About eight hours,” the doctor replied.

“Then we should witness a very impressive cum shot.”

“I should think so.”

“Holly should be made aware of our training techniques,” Justine said to Lenore.

“Absolutely,” Lenore replied.

“Holly may want to participate at some point after all,” Estelle added.

I felt all the women’s eyes descend upon me at once, hoping to gauge my answer by my reaction.

“I have her education well in hand,” my aunt replied for me. “Don’t worry about anything.”

“Well, it is kind of ass backwards you know,” Justine said. “She’s getting to see the results without seeing what methods produced those results.”

Lenore seemed unconcerned. “This is just preliminary stuff. She has plenty of time to get her hands dirty, so to speak, as Phoebe has just told you.”

And that seemed to end the discussion because Barney was now growling deep in his throat and his face was covered in sweat. I had to marvel at his stamina. How he managed to restrain from coming until he was ordered to must have taxed his body and mind to the limit. Yet he continued to hold out, even when all of us knew he should be joyously ejaculating.

“I love his balls,” Rebecca said almost with a sense of affection. “Two big, beautiful grapefruits filled with hot sperm. Look at them! They’re so nasty!”

Barney’s testicles were indeed now fully distended and bounced up and down as the insatiable, inexorable, tugging continued. Kelly and Janet had finally settled on a moderate tempo, and as their slick hands ran up and down the massive pole I began to feel a tingling in my own genital region.

“He’s going to erupt any second,” Rebecca said.

“How do you know?” I asked her.

She laughed. “I know because I’ve worked that big tool many times before during our experiments. Keep your eyes on him. He always curses just before he gives up his load.”

Barney was groaning so loudly now that I had no doubt Rebecca was right. Sensing he was about to climax, Kelly and Janet increased their tempo, Kelly making sure that her forefinger remained in constant contact with the tiny piece of skin just under the head of the shaft. Seconds later, Barney let out an enormous howl and cursed out loud, just as Rebecca had said he would. The other women in the nearby area, knowing that his ejaculation was imminent, stopped what they were doing and rushed up to the platform behind him. A few of them began cheering him on.

We were sitting no more that a dozen feet away when Barney’s orgasm began, and most of us, including myself, had every reason to feel confident that we were safe from getting splashed with ejaculate. In this assumption we were dead wrong. As I watched Kelly and Janet’s hands slide upwards to meet at the tip of his cock, an enormous jet of white cream shot out and flew across the room toward us, sailing completely over our astonished faces and into a mural on the wall behind us. Half of us looked behind in wonderment to see the slimy paste make contact with the wall while the others, myself included, laughed wildly as the second rope of sperm was launched with great force by the demanding hands of the two giggling girls.

Lenore got hit right on the left side of her dress, a thick puddle of white trickling down from her bare shoulder onto the satiny fabric.

“Magnificent!” Justine squealed in French as the Sisterhood leader reacted with surprise to the unexpected baptism by sperm.

The crowd was in hysterics. I watched in utter amazement as Kelly and Janet coaxed load after load of sperm from Barney’s immense dick, the white effluence continuing to spurt uncontrollably into the audience. Angelique received a generous portion of Barney’s cum as his third and fourth spurts managed to reach her exposed legs. Even my aunt got blasted with the stuff as the force of his orgasm ricocheted off my cousin’s legs and onto my aunt’s shoes. It all happened so fast that we really couldn’t run away in time to escape the assault. I managed to avoid being hit, but most of the other women had traces of Barney’s cum all over their clothes. When he finally did stop ejaculating, both Kelly and Janet’s hands were drenched in cum, and women from the far end of the concourse were now standing around us pressing us for information as to what had exactly happened. After what had just occurred, I was surprised to see that both Christiana and Rebecca seemed to take it all in stride.

“We’ve seen this many time before,” the beautiful doctor said to me in response to my inquiring stare. “When Barney was on my drug he could shoot twice as far.”

“Are you joking?” I asked bemused.

“No, she’s not,” my aunt interjected. “I saw it myself.”

Kelly and Janet left the platform to clean their hands and the exhausted Barney was led away. It was now Craig’s turn to entertain the crowd of astonished onlookers, and he was ordered to stand up and face the audience.

“Well,” Rebecca said to us as she got up. “I’ll see you girls later.”

I was surprised to see the long-legged, blonde beauty get on the platform next to Craig. He, however, acted quite calmly, as if he were expecting her to be there. She immediately placed some cream into her hands and started to play with his cock. Craig looked down at her hands and moaned with pleasure.

“I didn’t know Rebecca was going to masturbate him,” I said to Christiana.

“Rebecca is an incredible masturbatrix. She knows how to provoke the most intense cum shots I have ever seen.”

“Do you think she’ll get him to shoot as far as Kelly and Janet did with Barney?”

“At least as far. You might want to sit a few rows behind.”

“Then I’ll miss everything.”

“Well, just sit here and watch her. She’s really amazing and you might learn a few things about how to give a man a great orgasm.”

I didn’t think she meant it as a slur, but I was a little annoyed at the implication that I might be somehow lacking in my sexual skills. However, I found it difficult to be annoyed with her for very long because of her unpretentiousness, and realized that she said what she said more as praise of her colleague than to insinuate any imagined deficiency in me.

Boxes of tissues were now being handed around to help the women in our immediate group get cleaned up from Barney’s errant volleys of cum. Angelique swore as she dabbed the tissues on her legs, blotting up the creamy fluid into the paper.

“This is not good,” she complained as I watched her at her task. “Mom and I are going to have to intensify Jacques’ training fast.”

I took this to mean that her champion was no longer the favorite in the race to win this masturbation contest. My aunt heard what she said and shook her head numbly.

“Are you certain that there are no traces of your drug left in their systems, Christiana?” my aunt asked the doctor.

“You were there when the drug screening took place,” Christiana replied. “They’re both completely clean.”

My aunt still seemed incredulous. “It’s hard to believe that a man can shoot like that. I could understand when he was on the drug, but now? I mean he must have ejaculated almost 15 feet for heaven’s sake. Don’t you find that strange?”

“The only thing my drug did to these men was to increase their penis size a few inches, nothing more. Whatever ejaculatory response they now exhibit is solely due to their genetic disposition and the combined efforts of our team.”

“Well, I want to learn more about your techniques. I want to apply them to my own contender.”

“You’re welcome to do so.”

I could sense that my aunt was a little perturbed that she could get no satisfactory explanation from the doctor, who seemed to exhibit no apparent disingenuousness in answering her question. She knew, as did her own daughter, that their previous boast regarding Jacques undisputed superiority in this area was now going to be put to the test in light of Barney’s exemplary performance. Now with Craig being rapidly primed to cum, I wondered if the boy would meet or even exceed his counterpart’s outstanding example, which would further add to my aunt’s anxiety.

From the moment Rebecca took the stage, more and more women began to gather around the platform to witness Craig’s masturbation. The crowd has now swollen to twice its size, and I recognized many familiar faces from the entertainment world among their ranks. My aunt Phoebe said hello to some of them as they approached and paid their respects, and through her I was introduced to a few whom she particularly liked. There were the twin sisters who had started acting when they were babies and had built a multi-million dollar empire by the time they were eighteen; the blonde beauty from Bay Watch who had allowed a video of her lovemaking to get into the public mainstream; and a cute girl who made her fame killing vampires on TV. These, and a few others, were all graciously received by my aunt before resuming their place among their voyeuristic friends. Unlike her mother, Angelique made no effort to be cordial to these celebrities, treating them instead with casual indifference, even contempt, when they tried to strike up a conversation with her. Like my cousin, I, too, had no fondness for these spoiled, rich, and often mediocre talents, but I found a few of them, especially the twin sisters, to be genuinely friendly and open.

“They’re all phonies,” my cousin remarked dourly as the last of the celebrities walked away. “No-talent phonies.”

“That’s not true,” I replied. “Mary Kate and Ashley are talented, and they were nice to you.”

“I guess so,” she said begrudgingly. ” But I wouldn’t give you two cents for the rest of them.”

“You had better learn to be more accommodating of other people,” my aunt said to Angelique.

“Why should I?”

“Because regardless of what you, yourself, may think of them, they are our supporters and friends, and our link to the outside world. They support the aims of the Sisterhood and fund many of our projects. Don’t forget that.”

“But you told me you hate celebrities, mom. You said it more than once.”

“Yes, I toldyou, not anyone else,” my aunt said. “And I don’t hate all of them, just a few. Just try to keep your personal feelings about them to yourself.”

Lenore looked at Angelique at that moment with disdain. I knew she could not have been pleased with Angelique’s negative point of view regarding entertainers, and the more I saw of my cousin’s attitude toward these people, the more I came to understand Lenore’s refusal to make my cousin her heir.

“Oh, look,” Justine said. “I think he’s going to come. Better protect yourselves!”

Thanks to Rebecca’s expert handling, Craig’s prick now appeared ready to relinquish its load. The huge, plum-like tip of his penis was glistening with tiny beads of pre-cum and Rebecca began to pour a constant litany of filth into his ear. She stood on his left, masturbating him with vicious, machine-like precision as two other girls stood both behind and to his right supporting him. Rebecca’s short red skirt rode up high on her thighs revealing a muscular and beautifully proportioned pair of legs. Her left hand pulled on his huge testicular sac while she energetically jerked him off, and this compelled him to rock his hips back and forth, driving his cock in between her hands. Her technique was flawless. I noticed that her long, yet delicate, fingers had no problem encircling his massive girth, which must have added greatly to his pleasure.

Kelly and Janet returned to their places on the stage with Barney in tow. He was wearing a pair of shorts but was otherwise naked. The three of them were laughing at something Barney had said, and as the girls joined the others he was instructed to sit in the back of the room and wait. As he passed by us, he smiled at everyone and gave Craig a ‘thumbs up’ sign.

“He’s so fucking tall!” Angelique said to me as Barney passed by.

“He’s six feet, five inches tall to be precise,” Christiana said.

“Is he married?”

“He was.”

My cousin seemed pleased by this announcement and I watched as her eyes followed him to his chair.

“I want to get my hands on that fucking tube steak of his,” Angelique whispered in my ear.

“I have no doubt you will,” I replied with surety.

Estelle suddenly let out a huge groan. “Oh, no, we’re going to get it!”

Despite her warning, none of us moved. I thought Barney’s orgasm was merely a fluke, and that Craig’s climax would be a more modest offering. Again, I was proven wrong.

I watched in rapt fascination as Rebecca put the finishing touches on Craig’s hugely swollen cock and balls. Her hand was moving at lightning speed up and down the greasy shaft, tensing it, milking it, teasing it mercilessly until the poor boy could stand no more. The women surrounding the platform had now moved in so closely that they were only inches away from the masturbatrix and her victim, flanking the duo on either side. The room was quiet now, only the sounds of Rebecca’s cream-coated fist flailing the stiff prick with unyielding effort.

“Watch everybody!” Rebecca laughed. “Watch what I’m going to make him do!”

She gave Craig three quick bursts and a long pull, holding her hand motionless at the top of her stroke just under the swelling corona. Craig screamed with joy.

Before I knew what was happening, a long jet of white cream spit out of the tip of his penis and arced high up into the air, making straight for my cousin and I. The force of the blast was so intense that there was no time in which to act to avoid getting hit. It was a huge wash of sperm that splashed into my face and hair, forcing me to turn my head sideways, and, in so doing, deflecting a good portion of the ejaculate into my cousin’s wide open mouth. The audience went wild. Sperm hung obscenely from my chin, my hair, my nose…and Angelique had hardly faired any better as I watched her spit out huge globs of semen from her mouth, both laughing and cursing me for being so careless.

Despite the unexpected hosing, my eyes were left untouched, which allowed me to watch Craig release successive bursts of joy juice at the insistent stroking of his mistress. The first ejaculation had not traveled as far as Barney’s wild cum shot, but the second and third spurts sailed high over our heads, sending the audience into fits of laughter. Almost everyone in our party was splashed at one time or another, the sticky residue finding its way into people’s hair and clothing, sparing no one.

Rebecca’s hands were saturated with sperm, and the two girls supporting Craig, as well as several women spectators in the front row, had also received portions of his wildly climaxing cock juice. The floor beneath him was a lake of sperm as Rebecca continued to milk him. Towards the end of his orgasm, she pointed his prick straight up, and a long strand of cum shot up above his head and came raining down onto Rebecca’s long, blonde tresses. She seemed delighted at the outcome of her diligent hand job and didn’t even seem bothered that her hair was now a tangled mess. Craig’s orgasm had surpassed Barney’s, and Rebecca proudly looked out over the crowd and smiled at Christiana, who responded with a round of applause in appreciation of her friend’s triumph.

“I would like to meet him,” I said to Christiana, amidst the deafening roar of applause and cheers.

“There are no training sessions scheduled for tomorrow. Maybe you could meet us all for lunch at the Hotel de France?”

“I’d love to,” I replied smiling.

Christiana must have noticed the sparkle in my eyes at the thought of meeting the handsome boy because she quickly turned to my aunt and made arrangements for the meeting.

“Craig is a very special person,” the doctor said to me after consulting with my aunt. “He was married for a very brief time to my assistant, but the marriage didn’t take. I think he would like you very much.”

“He’s very handsome,” I said as the women led him off the platform. “And he seems very nice.”

“He is very nice, and a real gentleman.”

“I don’t care about him,” Angelique suddenly declared. “I want to get my hands on the big, black guy.”

“I can arrange that too,” the doctor said happily.

By the time I went to bed that evening it was after 3:00 AM, and my mind was racing with a host of thoughts and ideas that would keep me awake for several more hours. My aunt would not allow me to visit the lower floors that evening, and Angelique had hinted to me that those floors were strictly for the “more intense” sessions. What that meant I did not know, but Lenore told me that the decision to allow me to visit rested solely with my aunt, and that I would have to wait until the time was right. Even so, the fact that this subterranean world had been kept completely secret from me made me wonder how far and to what lengths the Sisterhood would go to achieve its aim of female superiority.

There was no doubt that my exposure to this magnificent underground network of rich and powerful women would have a profound impact upon my life. Angelique admitted to me that what I had seen was merely the tip of the iceberg, and a simple diversionary amusement at best. The real action, she told me, took place on the floors below—the floors I was forbidden, as of yet, to see. But that was not what occupied my mind as I began to drift to sleep. All I could think of was the blonde boy with the huge cock, and what I was going to do to him once I had him in my grasp.

************

The poet began, dead pale now: “I will go

Ahead, you second.” I answered, seeing his pallor,

“How can I venture here if even you,

Who have encouraged me every time I falter,

Turn white with fear?” And he: “It is the pain

People here suffer that paints my face this color

Of pity, which you mistake for fear. Now on:

Our long road urges us forward.” And he entered

The abyss’s first engirdling circle, and down

–Canto IV, Dante’s Inferno

My aunt’s estate loomed before me like one impenetrable mesh of forest, dark and foreboding. The last rays of a crimson sun now adorned the uppermost branches of the leafless tree limbs that wavered menacingly in a sudden onrush of frigid air. I shuddered and quickly drew my woolen hat down over my ears.

To the south stood my aunt’s castle—a tiny silver speck on a diminishing horizon, solitary, almost insignificant from this distance, but a reminder to me that I had strayed too far from familiar territory and was now stranded as darkness fell silently about me. I estimated the castle to be about ten miles away—too far for me to navigate in such dark and uncompromising surroundings. How I had allowed myself to wander so far away from the castle Anjou was a mystery to me, yet it did not stop me from cursing myself aloud for my blatant stupidity. Even as my rancorous diatribe assaulted the mute sentinels of birch and elm surrounding me, I drew together massive handfuls of fallen leaves and prepared to make my bed under the least forbidding tree I could find.

How did I get here?

I asked this question of myself over and over again and yet could find no answer. As I burrowed beneath the makeshift blanket of fallen leaves, I felt some small measure of protection from the strange noises that now began to emanate from the inner regions of the black forest: the eerie sound of naked branches bending begrudgingly in the wind, whipping at each other in windswept frenzy, accompanied by a low mournful dirge of animals whose baneful cries forced me to burrow deeper within the protective covering of leaves, while other equally distressed voices added their own wails to the mix; unhappy voices that seemed to lament the passing of the day.

Despite my anxiety, my body was so exhausted from my long sojourn in the forest that I soon fell asleep, but I did not sleep fitfully. Every so often the sudden hoot of an owl, or the far off howling of some animal, stirred me from my restless slumber. At one point I awoke sharply, raising my head ever so slightly to peer out from behind my bed of leaves, thinking I had heard something like footsteps not far away. Although the moon was on the wane, it still provided enough illumination for me to discern that the source of my consternation was nothing more than a low-hanging tree limb that every so often would brush along the forest floor in response to a gentle, but chilling, breeze. Fortunately, I had had the foresight to dress warmly, and my long woolen coat, hat, and gloves kept me quite warm despite the cold October night.

Eventually I managed to fall asleep.

When I next awoke I saw that the moon was now at its zenith and that half of my blanket of leaves had dissipated in the course of my turbulent sleep. I had no way to tell how long I had been sleeping since I had left my watch behind. And even if I had it, the feeble moonlight would have prevented me from seeing the tiny hands on the watch face. I surmised that it must be midnight, or not much later, which meant I had been sleeping for six hours or more. I reached out my hands to gather more leaves around myself to replace the ones that had blown away and, still overcome with lethargy, I pressed my body close against mother earth, once again seeking her protection from the elements.

Just as I was once more starting to drift into sleep, I thought I heard the sound of voices—human voices, being carried on the wind. At first the sound was very faint, almost like a whisper, and every so often the voices would reach a sudden shift in pitch and volume, followed by an abrupt decrescendo. My first impulse was to jump up and start shouting for help, but something held me back. It was then that I remembered something my aunt Phoebe had told me the first day I had arrived at the castle. She had warned me that poachers roamed these woods at night and that one should not be so foolish as to find oneself alone in the forest after dark. As I recalled her admonition, I began to think of all kinds of horrible thoughts that being at the mercy of such dishonorable men might evoke, and quickly covered my head over with leaves even as the voices came ever closer.

Soon the voices were close enough for me to distinguish that there were two men; one of them spoke perfectly good English while the other struggled to speak English with a decidedly French accent. They took their rest not far from me, about 50 feet away, their lanterns placed on their knapsacks before them as they stretched themselves out on the ground.

Each of the men was carrying a rifle. What looked to me like some small, dead animal was hoisted off the back of one man and thrown casually on the ground in front of them.

“Comment beaucoup?” one of them asked.

“I don’t know,” said the other. “Maybe a thousand francs.”

The second voice sounded like it belonged to a young man, possibly in his late twenties or early thirties. The accent was definitely American.

“Please try to speak English,” he continued. “My French sucks.”

The other man groaned. “Il est injuste que! You Americans and your ridiculous language! You should learn how to speak French.”

“Please Anton. Accommodate me.”

“Have I not done so? Look at this fine specimen of a fox. A dying breed she is. I feel bad for her.”

“Twenty percent of the selling price should help to assuage your guilt.”

This was said in a non-emotive tone of voice.

“I hunt them because I need to live,” the other man said. “But one day they will all be gone, never to return. And that will be the end of Anton.”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake!” the American complained. “Philosophy from a poacher!”

The Frenchman said nothing. Imitating his companion, he raised his canteen to his mouth and took a long draught, then stretched his legs out before him.

“We cannot stay here too long,” he said. “They might find us.”

“Are you still worried about the police? We gave them the slip hours ago.”

“I am not talking about the police.”

The American laughed. “Oh, that again. You’re afraid we’re going to be abducted by the spirits of the forest?”

“I do not say they are spirits,” Anton replied, sullenly. “Two of my friends have disappeared in these woods within the past six months, and it was not the police nor any wild animal that got them.”

“You know what I say to that Anton? Bullshit!” the American said, derisively. “Save your stories for your drunken friends at the pub.”

The Frenchman remained quiet for a moment, listening. I thought maybe he had heard me as I gently moved my legs into a more comfortable position, but his gaze was directed toward the west, toward the direction they seemed to be headed. His companion seemed to hear something too.

“One of your friends?” the American asked, mockingly.

“Ridicule me if you want, but I tell you they are out there.”

“Yes, Anton, they are out there—the animals that inhabit this forest. That’s all.”

“How do you call yourself a hunter?” Anton snapped. “Have you not noticed that the sound is getting louder? They are not animals, but they are watching us. And they are not far away.”

Their hearing must have been exceptionally keen because at first all I could hear were the familiar sounds that I had been exposed to all night. But I soon became aware of another presence. It sounded to me like the heavy, padded footsteps of a group of large herbivores foraging close by. Deer and elk inhabited these luxuriant green meadows, but so did several carnivorous animals like foxes and wolves. Since local poachers had hunted these latter to near extinction, I was never too afraid that I would encounter one. But the possibility remained nevertheless. I almost thought of approaching the two men to beg for protection, but decided to take my chances with a possible encounter with a wild animal than to entrust my safety to two strangers bearing rifles.

The American was now on the alert, realizing that his companion might be right. Both men took their weapons in hand and stood up facing in the direction of the rapidly approaching footsteps.

“It’s probably just a few deer,” the American said nervously. “Or maybe some poacher friends of yours.”

Anton lifted his rifle to his shoulder. “Put out the light,” he said hastily.

The American begrudgingly obeyed but his voice betrayed a growing anxiety.

“It has to be an animal, what else could it be?”

“Be quiet you fool!” the Frenchman rasped.

Within seconds the golden glow from their lanterns was extinguished and all I could see was their dim outlines framed eerily in the subtle aura of moonlight. It was suddenly very quiet, and all that could be heard was the sound of the dead leaves as they were driven aimlessly to and fro by the night wind.

The two men stood frozen like statues, their rifles ready and poised to shoot at whatever mysterious intruder was hiding from them in the nearby thicket. I slowly turned my head toward the direction in which they were facing, careful not to make any noise lest they mistake me for some wild animal and open fire. For some moments the two men and I remained absolutely still, they completely unaware of me, but all of us facing the same lurking terror in silence.

Suddenly I heard a very sharp whistling sound and saw Anton’s body shift violently to the right.

“Jésus!” the Frenchman cried as his rifle fell from his hands.

“What is it?” the American yelled. “Anton, are you all right?”

“Sauve qui peut!” the man screamed as his body fell to the ground.

“Anton!”

The American immediately fired off two rounds into the nearby bushes and then I heard the same whistling sound followed by a long succession of curse words. Within seconds, several large figures dashed out from behind the bushes.

“You fucks!” the American screamed as he fell to his knees in pain.

He made one futile attempt to aim his gun at the attackers but it was kicked out of his hand. He groaned loudly and collapsed onto the ground beside his silent partner.

I was so frightened that my entire body was shaking violently, and adding to my distress was the fact that whomever had attacked the two men might now turn their attentions toward the cringing buddle of flesh lying half exposed in the forest debris. From what I could see, both men were now lying prostrate on the ground, rifles at their side, unmoving. I didn’t know whether they were dead or paralyzed, but I tried to remain as quiet as possible under the circumstances, fearful that if my presence were revealed, I might end up in the same condition as the two hapless hunters.

And then, to my amazement, I saw several more figures dash out from behind a small outcropping of bushes toward the two fallen men. They were men—very large men. Their huge, muscular bodies moved swiftly and silently as they bent down to inspect the fallen men. A few moments elapsed and then one of them said something in French to an accomplice and both the inert bodies of Anton and the American were lifted onto the shoulders of two of the assailants and hurriedly carried away while the others retrieved the rifles and backpacks. The fox was carefully lifted up and placed in a canvas bag. When they had concluded their business, the last of the intruders disappeared into the thicket with the bag, singing gaily in his heavy French accent.

At one point I almost called out to these interlopers to come to my aid, but once again, I decided to remain silent. I knew for one thing that these people could not be the police. And the few French words I could understand seemed to suggest that they found too much sinister enjoyment in the procurement of the two men, and that some dismal fate awaited them both. For all I knew, they might just be another gang of poachers who wanted to perpetrate mischief. The missiles that struck the two men sounded to me like arrows buzzing through the air, and poachers had been known to use the bow and arrow to kill their prey—or, on occasion, their competition.

I estimated that the entire incident had probably lasted for no longer than a few minutes, which led me to assume that my two erstwhile companions may have been tracked for some time prior to their apprehension, the stalkers waiting for just the right moment to catch the two men off guard. It occurred to me then that the Frenchman might have been correct after all: the disappearance of his friends could have indeed been attributed to these marauders—men who scoured the countryside at night for just such a purpose. But, if so, what was the reason for these abductions? I would have to inform my aunt Phoebe and the police about this incident as soon as I got home.

The wind had grown quite calm by this time, and I was once more able to gather a substantial amount of leaves around me. I knew by the position of the moon that it was still several hours until dawn, and settled into my makeshift bed once more, contentedly warm and snug under the layers of leaves despite the chilly air. Although I was still feeling uneasy over what had recently transpired, I finally managed to fall asleep, thankful that I had not been discovered, nor foolish enough to have willingly given away my position.

I dreamt of Craig. The young, blonde, Swedish boy, and his performance at the Masturbatorium, had left an indelible impression upon my mind. He seemed so sweet, so unaffected and genuine that he had immediately stolen my heart. In looks he reminded me of a very young Robert Redford, with the same amazing blue eyes and incredible smile. I didn’t mind that he had chosen me as his target during his performance the previous day. In fact, I thought it was so sexy that I could feel and taste his creamy hot cum all over my face and hair. I don’t know if that was what he intended, but his devilish smile told me it certainly was possible.

In my dream, the two of us were standing in the middle of my aunt’s vineyard. I was fully clothed but his pants and underwear had been pulled down to his ankles. It was a bright, sunny, day.

“I want to suck you off,” I said, as I kneeled before him and pulled his twelve and three-quarter-inch prick into my open mouth.

“I think you should know that I haven’t cum in almost a week,” he warned me.

“Oh,” I replied. “I might not be able to swallow the whole load.”

“Why don’t you just catch it in your hand?” he said with a grin. “I love it when you do that to me.”

“Don’t be silly, Craig,” I said. “We’ve never had sex before. This is the first time.”

He looked at me quizzically. “Is it? I could have sworn I fucked you before.”

“You’re so romantic!” I said, giving his muscular ass a hard slap.

As I started to blow him, I heard the sound of female voices coming from behind me. I quickly turned around and saw that there was a crowd of about thirty girls, my own age or older, standing a short distance away enjoying the show. They were all dressed up in school uniforms and all wore their hair in pigtails.

“You had better suck him off very well, mademoiselle,” a big-breasted blonde said to me in broken English.

“Or he will not want you!” said another, taunting me.

All the girls then laughed in unison and proceeded to dance and sing amongst the rows of fruit-laden bushes.

“Go away!” I shouted to them. “You are not welcome here!”

“We will not go away,” said the blonde, adamantly. “If you cannot suck him off, then one of us will have to do it.”

“Craig,” I said. “Tell them to go away.”

“Why?” he replied. “Aren’t they your friends?”

I shook my head. “No. I’ve never seen them before.”

“Of course you have. Look, there’s your aunt Phoebe right there in front.”

The blonde with the big tits was now looking somewhat older than before, goading me, rebuking me for my reluctance to proceed with the blowjob. And the more she shouted at me, the more she began to look like my aunt, until I realized that it was indeed she, but as she would have appeared if she were my own age and still in college.

“Come on,” my look-a-like aunt said to me. “I want to see you suck his big dick!”

“Yes,” a slim, sassy brunette agreed. “We want to see you suck. Suck!”

All the girls took up the chant, drowning out all my objections.

“I really need to cum,” Craig said, as his huge tool swung to and fro in front of my face. “Let them watch if they want to.”

“I can’t believe this!” I said, feeling both angry yet turned on by the fact that we were being observed.

There was no way I was going to be able to completely accommodate his towering organ in my mouth, so I swallowed as much of it as I could and let my hands play with the bottom part of his shaft and his huge, superheated balls. He moaned softly as my head moved up and down on his pole with a consistent momentum, the taste of his salty effluences saturating my tongue as each moment brought him closer to orgasm.

“Keep sucking!” my aunt said. “And pull your mouth away when he cums. We want to see him shoot his seed into the air!”

I paid her and the others no attention. All I wanted was to please Craig, and I didn’t care one bit if my audience enjoyed what I was doing or not.

The abundant cream in his sac was now forcing his balls up into his body and I knew from this telltale sign, as I had witnessed with Delvin, that the eruption of sperm was not far off.

“I’m almost there baby,” Craig rasped between clenched teeth. “Tell the girls to come close so I can give them what they want.”

I pulled my mouth away from his prick but continued to stroke him violently with both hands.

“Why?” I asked. “What do they want?”

“My sperm!” he blurted out. “They need it…for the ritual.”

“That’s right!” my aunt said loudly. “Let us come closer now so that each of us can catch some of the god’s cum in each of our hands!”

“God?” I said looking askance at them. “Are you people crazy?”

Even as I said these words I felt suddenly awash in a brilliant display of golden radiance that extended from the top of Craig’s head to the bottom of his feet. His face had remained the same, but he was now completely naked, his magnificent torso gracing the landscape like some ancient colossus. The women laughed and cheered as they came closer to him, some even encouraging me with smiles and gestures to finish the job.

“Gather round, gather round,” sang my aunt to her cluster of acolytes. “Welcome the god’s offering with open hands!”

Now the women danced and laughed more furiously than before, their bodies writhing in throes of ecstasy as they whirled around me and Craig, their arms outstretched, awaiting to be bathed in the fruitful seed of his loins.

As I continued to jack off his big dick, his body seemed to grow taller and his cock longer. I could not account for this phenomenon and thought it quite strange, although the women seemed to regard it as perfectly normal. Soon the huge penis had grown so long and wide that my hands proved insufficient to continue masturbating it. Seeing this, my aunt instructed several women to assist me, and soon there were a half-dozen pairs of willing hands rubbing the now four-foot-long shaft, which was now ready to explode its creamy contents into the air.

Craig screamed aloud as he felt an overwhelming pleasure overtake his now stiff body, poised as it was with his head thrown back and his hips arched forward, his prick on the verge of releasing its pent-up load of semen.

“It is done!” my aunt look-a-like shouted.

She knew, as did I, that as Craig’s balls, now the size of two ripe watermelons, began to contract and drive upwards into his body, a torrent of sperm would soon follow, and she quickly applied her own two hands in concert with the rest of us. This last action proved to be decisive, as now the massive organ reared back and prepared to fire its molten load.

With his body now completely at the mercy of all of our pumping fists, he grunted loudly and we watched as the first in a long series of ejaculations commenced.

“Oh, my God!” one of the women cried as I watched her head roll back to witness the event.

Most of the women let out similar exclamations as we watched a very thick, elongated rope of sperm shot out of the tip of his cock and fly completely over our heads and into a small outcropping of bushes an incredible 50 feet away.

“Sacré merde!” my aunt laughed as portions of the god’s copious offering found its way into her hair.

Many other women got hit too, as my hands continued to coax out the molten seed.

The next volley of hot cream again shot out wildly into the air far above our heads and in the general vicinity of the first shot. Realizing that most of the sperm was being lost, my aunt quickly guided the massive prick downward and toward the open palms of the women where rope after rope of pearly semen shot out in abundant and joyous release, splashing into fingers and palms, coating bare, outstretched arms with a hot, sticky patina of whitish lacquer.

Some of the women cupped their hands together to receive a greater portion of the god’s sperm, after which they drew back and proceeded to run among the open rows of the vineyard, allowing the residue of cum to drip from their hands onto the waiting vines below, in dutiful obeisance to their frenzied ritual. With each spurt, Craig seemed to grow taller and taller, and the golden aura surrounding him increased exponentially until I was forced to shut my eyes from the brilliant light.

End of Chapter 3