Monique, the next day, went to his place and abandoned her body to his desires. She let him force her buttocks, tightened for a certain time. But he wanted better sensations, now that he knew what Monique appreciated. He persuaded her to accept a meeting at his place, with a group of safe and carefully chosen friends. They created a kind of club, limited to six members, all lovers of beauty, voluptuousness and flagellation. Monique was more their queen than their slave. They always kept a high sense of tact and dignity in their meetings. As they loved feminine disguise they asked in the beginning of their association that Monique come dressed as a peasant girl. And the same night, wrapped in a long black cape, Monique came to Max's villa. Six men were waiting for her in a cozy little room-there was only a dim light given by bulbs hidden in seashells on the ground. The whole room was furnished with low furniture, a little bit in the Japanese style. And everywhere, pillows, poufs, and other commodities were strewn. Monique moved amidst the group. They were all sitting on cushions, on the thick wool rug. She could feel the looks of the men trying to see under her too short peasant frock-she of course had no underclothes. Darcourt pointed her toward the refreshments posed on a nearby table, and told her to serve the drinks. She took the glasses one by one and according to Darcourt's instructions, she put them on the low table, turning her back to the guests sitting on the carpet. Thus she was displaying her naked bottom and her silk-covered thighs and legs. Her tightened legs did not allow more than the end of her cunt to show, and only a few silky fair hairs. Then she had to pose across each champagne glass a piece of dry biscuit and each time she bent she could feel on her flesh the warm breeze of the man's breath, panting with desire.
She was ashamed, but also pervertedly excited to see those dimly lit faces looking avidly at her naked bottom, just lit by the light coming from the shells on the ground.
When she finished serving them, she waited in silence. Darcourt brought her some kind of thick transparent glass chair. It was a V shaped glass panel, with the hands of the V separated horizontally. It was resting on three chrome feet and had the size and height of a normal chair. Between the feet was posed a very clear triangular mirror, inclined to 45°; in both front feet, were concealed two electric bulbs that were illuminating the superior part of the contraption and the two branches of the transparent V.
Darcourt asked Monique to sit down. She obeyed, her bottom resting on the point of the V while her legs were spread on the two separate branches of the transparent V. Her frock, covering her thighs did not allow her to see under her legs, but she understood the exhibition that she was performing for those men who were bending toward her and staring at the ground.
The light was directed on her buttocks, her offered sex, and everyone could see in the mirror, without leaving her any possibility of defense, all of her most intimate secrets. They could see between her legs the rosy sex nested in the middle of the thick, slightly open and perpetually damp lips.
A very exciting apparition indeed. In the men's eyes it was easy to discover the reactions to that immodest performance.
They had all turned their little lamps out, and the only light left was the source hidden in the chair's feet, and its reflection in the mirror. It was the triumph and exultation of her sex- it seemed to offer itself like a pink mouth, and call for a kiss. It was outrageously provocative. Monique felt a strange voluptuousness come in her; mixed shame, desire, restrained lust, impatience. Her temples were painful with the heavy beat of her blood. Her hands were nervously pressing her knees under the dress. She wanted to get up, but at the same time it was as if some invisible power was nailing her to her transparent chair.
She realized that Darcourt was behind her. With an unusually harsh tone of voice he spoke:
“Little Monique, I am sure that you must be thirsty too. Let me 'serve' you a drink like a good little girl.”
She was listening, waiting. She felt him kneeling behind her; she saw his hand by her side, holding an ebony nozzle, middle-sized, surrounded by an ivory shaft. An unspeakable emotion came violently in her and she remembered all the poles and various stakes that had been forced into her painful but consenting flesh. She closed her eyes. She felt the nozzle when its extremity brushed past her cunt. The shiny, well-polished end lazily rubbed the little puckered mouth, as if it was trying by that contact the smooth, hard contour of her anus. Opening her eyes, Monique saw the men's eyes looking, staring at the mirror between her legs, and lost in the voluptuous contemplation of the slow penetration of the long nozzle in her body. Monique contracted herself-in vain… The stake was sliding without any difficulty into her and the flat little ivory circle soon touched the lips of her asshole.
Darcourt dropped the nozzle, and the vision of that behind, with the tube and little rubber pipe coming out of it, was really a masterpiece of eroticism. Monique started to feel relieved, and she stopped contracting her muscles, but at the same time, the nozzle, pulled out by the pipe's weight, started sliding out of her ass.
“But it is not big enough for that greedy mouth,” said Darcourt. “For a bigger mouth, it takes a bigger glass.”
He pulled the nozzle completely out. Monique-not too anxious but really ashamed- sighed a little.
“Hush, hush, little girl, this is a nice class. Are you really that impatient to drink? In that case, that is exactly what you need.”
Monique saw him adjust a bigger nozzle with a thicker bubble. He showed it to her, and she blushed-it was about the size of a normal man's prick. She contemplated that shiny instrument, oiled with vaseline, and when she realized how big the end was, said: “No, no!”
But Darcourt was already posing the little head on the side of her asshole, and pushing, he forced the sensitive mouth to absorb the nozzle with a soft and mushy sound. Monique hid her face between her hands so that she would not see the devilish look on the men's faces. One contortion of her belly made clear for her that the thing was coming in her softly, but irresistibly. She felt it slide, fill her ass and her belly, and then stop, when the last bump reached the lips of her asshole.
Darcourt got up and came in front of her to watch the voluptuous scene in the mirror under her. It was a symphony of black, pink, red, and other fleshy tones. And also an erotic vision of a voluptuous enema…
Darcourt put a crystal vase in Monique's hands. From its bottom ran a pipe that was adjusted to the nozzle, and it dug into Monique's ass.
“My friends,” he said, “we are going to drink to the return among us of our favorite child. Therefore, we shall pour a little bit of liquid out of our glasses into hers. Cheers, little girl…” And Darcourt poured half of the content of his glass into the transparent vase.
One by one they all did the same thing, and soon Monique felt the cold liquid come weakly in her burning belly.
“And now, let us raise our glasses for a toast in her honor, and let delightful child drink with us.”
Monique saw the men raising their glasses towards her, and she hesitated a little bit. Then, at her turn, she raised slowly the limpid vase, containing the sparkling and cold liquid. They emptied their glasses, but at the same time they were all looking attentively at the level of the liquid in the vases that Monique was holding in her hands. They were fascinated by the slow progression of the liquid into her burning inside, as if sucked by some mysterious force. They could all imagine the liquid flowing into her most intimate flesh, softly sparkling in her guts. Monique, her eyes closed, was enjoying that new pleasure and a fresh sensation was coming in her.
Soon enough the vase was empty, but Darcourt lifted it up so that no drop would be lost then he removed the tube from the extremity of the nozzle. The nozzle alone was emerging from her insides like a thick licorice lollipop out of a pink and greedy mouth.
They took all their time to admire that pornographic vision, and Monique felt a delightful warmth grow in her, but she was getting tipsy. She looked imploringly at Darcourt; he understood, and came to her, and slowly removed the nozzle, then he showed her to the bathroom where he left her alone.
When she came back soon after, she found all the guests dressed only in black bathrobes under which it was apparent that they wore nothing. On the ground a large mirror was laying flat, surrounded by little lamps. Dar-court brought Monique there standing up, and while he was embracing her, they could all see behind them, her intimate parts reflected by the mirror.
Darcourt was caressing her breast over the bodice, and little by little he removed the material and allowed the teats to point freely in the air. They were enormous, the nipples hardened by excitation. Soon her torso was naked, and she only had her hat left. They all admired that wonderful young bust and then gave it their best caresses. All that sucking and petting succeeded in exciting the young girl.
Then they slowly removed her frock. It went sliding to the ground, and she was naked, a splendid symbol of youth and maturity at the same time, but also of lust and voluptuousness. She kept her legs tight so that her sex would not show in the mirror. She refused to take them apart, but Darcourt, opening his bathrobe appeared completely naked, his gigantic tool slowly balancing over the bouncy testicles. Getting closer to her, a whip in his
