"Uh . . . I figure you know about the wetter part. I'm
horny. But do you know about the slave part? What does that mean
to you?"
"No, Margi. The real question is: What does that mean to
*you*?"
She looked down, nibbling on her lower lip and brushed the
top of her pubic hair with her fingers. "Well, I *think* it
means that I have to do what you tell me to do, that I have no
choice."
I traced a line across the top of her pubic bush, meeting
her hand in the process. She started to pull away but I grabbed
her hand and pulled it back to the top of her pussy and held it
there.
"Margi, it's important to know that you *do* have a choice.
You always do. This is a game. That's all it is. And in this
game, we play that you're a slave, our slave, and that you have
to do the things we say. Keep in mind, if you agree, we'll
expect you to keep your bargain. We'd never hurt you, but we
might embarrass you and we just might make you even hornier. But
you do have a choice. Do you understand that?"
After I removed my hand from her's, she resumed touching the
area around the top of her slit, idly moving her fingers through
her bush.
Oddly stronger, she went on. "Oh, I know that. And I've
already made the decision. That's the "deal" I made with Jean.
I'm yours for the evening and I have to do what I'm told."
Glancing back, she added, "Isn't the right?"
Jean answered promptly, "That's right, girl and the first
thing I want you to do is play with yourself. I'll play with
your tits. You play with your little cunny. Yes, show Billy your
pussy."
Jean has assumed a firm, directing voice and I took my clue
from that. "While you're playing with yourself, Margi, tell us .
. . when did you start masturbating?"
She ran the index finger of her right hand up through her
slit. In the yellow light, I could see her finger glistening
with her wetness.
"Um . . . I'm not really sure. A long time ago. I was
young. I mean, very young. Maybe eight. Even seven. I don't
remember. All I knew was that it felt really good and I knew I
wasn't supposed to be doing that. I didn't know why. I don't
remember anyone telling me not to touch myself, but I knew.
Maybe my girlfriend told me. I knew it was naughty, but it felt
too good to stop."
"Ever get caught?" Jean asked.
Margi slipped two fingers into her slit and then rubbed her
juice on my hand as I toyed with her pubic hair. When I looked
at her, her eyes were glistening, intense and wide open. She
smiled a little.
"Several times. It was embarrassing, but it also was
exciting. I think I *wanted* to get caught."
"Did you cum then?" I asked, holding my hand up to my nose.
Her eyes glittered as she watched me. I smelled her and
then touched my tongue to my fingers. She jerked.
Now a little more breathless, she answered, "I could cum as
long as I can remember. Just some were more powerful than
others."