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Did something about Candy’s artificial nature make me moan into her kissing mouth and try shamelessly, desperately to ride the caressing hand she had insinuated between my thighs?
Yes and no, I thought as my mind began to float into that other place I seemed to go when made to serve the sexual wishes of another person—apparently even of a not-real young woman… a living doll owned, like me, by a cruel man who liked to whip girls and use their bodies as his playthings…
Yes and no…
No,because a real girl sent by my brutal master to seduce me, I understood, would have found me nearly as easy. Candy’s hand on my caned bottom, reminding me wordlessly that I belonged to a man who knew how to discipline a wanton, disobedient, still in some ways very innocent young bed girl like me… her gentle, knowing fingertips had called forth my need and her belonging to the same master had somehow authorized my dark desire for her. A real girl in that same position probably could have seduced me almost as effectively.
Yes,because the idea that the gorgeous, naked young woman kissing me and finger-fucking my pussy wasn’treal—that instead of having needs and wishes of her own, she served our master as a perfect tool—seemed to have made her seduction completely irresistible.
I could imagine pushing a real girl away, at least at first—at least before she had knelt down on the tiled floor behind me, maybe, and offered to put soothing gel on my punished backside. A real girl would have had the chance to triumph over me, I realized, for seducing me. She could have told our master with pride that she had made me succumb to my wanton nature, my forbidden need—a need so great I would give into another woman’s lewd caresses as long as my sluttiness could find some satisfaction.
But Candy could bring me shamefully close to coming as I rode her caressing hand like a lewd saddle, could break the embrace suddenly to turn me toward the wall and lean me over, hands on the tile as, yes, she knelt behind me. She could put her hands up to hold my bottom, open it, put her face there, lick as I cried out over and over… all without any idea that I had the slightest choice.
My bed sister, after all, couldn’t do anything but what Master Hendryk wanted her to do. If I refused, he would whip me. This forbidden pleasure with another girl… my owner wanted me to feel it. I pushed my bottom back, riding Candy’s face as I had ridden her hand. My cries echoed off the tiles.
Master Hendryk’s voice said, from outside the shower stall, “Don’t let her come.”
CHAPTER11
Renee
Master Hendryk made us dry each other off while he watched. I wouldn’t have supposed that getting dry could be as sensual an experience as getting wet—at least in the conventional, mostly innocent sense of taking a hot shower or swimming in the ocean. Candy, it seemed, knew otherwise, or perhaps her super-brain simply let her improvise a way to keep my pussy wet even as she got the rest of me dry.
“Her pussy is so nice and smooth!” Candy exclaimed to Master Hendryk as she rubbed the fluffy white towel between my legs gently and for a good deal longer than necessary to get me dry. We still stood in the vast shower stall, and our owner stood just outside it, watching with a smile of what seemed like satisfaction on his face.
Candy had turned her face over her shoulder to comment on how well the Institute aesthetician had done in waxing me the day before the auction, but now she turned to me and said, “I can’t grow hair on mine unless Master decides to enable that feature.” She turned back to look at Master Hendryk. “Is she as smooth as me, Master? Did she feel nice on your cock?”
It was the kind of casually degrading dirty talk I had heard over and over from trainers at the Institute—not Master G, so much, but many of the other training masters. In the mouth of the girl I had to think of as my bed sister, though, it seemed to take me to a completely new level of humiliation.
“Candy,” Master Hendryk said, “that’s unkind. Yes, Renee was just as smooth as you are last night and her little pussy felt just as good as yours did when I fucked you this morning. She’ll start to grow her hair again soon, and you’ll learn to wax her for me.”
I felt my brow furrow, and the heat surged into my face. Thoughts and feelings boiled up in my chest, and as seemed almost normal in Master Hendryk’s house at this point, I couldn’t count them, or name more than the most obvious ones: embarrassment and anxiety. I didn’t understand Candy at all, and I understood Master Hendryk almost as little.
But the blue nightgown meant just what you thought it meant, didn’t it? Your master fucked his fake girl’s pussy while he rested your holes, to let them recover from the brutal fucking he gave you in all of them last night.
“Oh,” Candy said when she turned back to me, “look at her blush. I’m sorry, Renee.”
“That’s…” I started, fumbling for words. “That’s okay… but…”
“I think you’re dry, girls,” Master Hendryk interrupted. “Come here and touch your toes, Candy. You have a punishment coming for what you said.”
“Yes, Master,” Candy replied, and padded out of the shower stall, handing the towel to me.
“Bottom to Renee,” our owner said, taking her arm firmly and positioning her before he bent her over so that I could see every intimate secret of her beautiful rear end. Candy’s pussy was indeed smooth and pink and girlish, a pouting slit of a rosier hue peeking out from the cleft of her outer lips. Between the cane-marked cheeks of her bottom her little anus looked like the bud of a flower. I blushed anew as I wondered whether mine were that pretty, and how often Master Hendryk had used his artificial girl that way, and whether he would use my bottom with that same frequency.
Candy let out a little cry as our master folded her like a piece of origami paper, and all my questions began to seethe inside me. Just how real was she? She had already shown me the six fading double lines from the caning she said she had gotten last week for being sassy. She had said it had hurt a lot, but I couldn’t really even tell what that meant. Her cry had sounded like the sort of fearful noise real girls—like the ones I had seen punished many times at the Institute—made when about to receive an old-fashioned obedience lesson, but surely Selecta could design a fake girl who made realistic sounding noises and yet didn’t actually feel pain?
“Hold your ankles,” Master Hendryk commanded. Candy gave a whimper as she obeyed.
Master Hendryk stood on her left side and took her right hip into his grasp to keep her in place. I noticed fully for the first time that he had on a robe very much like the ones the training masters at the Institute wore. Master Hendryk’s was charcoal gray, and I swallowed hard as I wondered whether he had anything on underneath. Master G had worn the special pants that left his penis free to enjoy his girls as he chose.
“Watch, Renee,” he commanded, as if I could do anything else.
I thought he would start spanking Candy’s upturned bottom, but when he put his right hand there, to my surprise he took hold of her exposed pussy and began working it very roughly with his long fingers. At the same time, he pushed his thumb against the tight ring of her anus.
Candy moaned. She began to bounce on her bent knees, trying to rub herself against Master Hendryk’s hand even more firmly. I watched his fingers, dipping inside the rosy sheath of her vagina, come out glistening and slick so that he could masturbate her clit more easily.
I had the fluffy white towel out in front of me. That had just been the way I held it when Candy handed it to me, but it started to seem like a kind of shield as Master Hendryk drew sobs of forced pleasure mingled with discomfort from the bent-over girl, his eyes fixed on me the entire time.
