At first, Janet did not think she would be able to simulate arousal in this situation, making love to Karen at the command and for the delectation of this bizarre old hermit. But as soon as she felt her beloved's cool hands on her shoulders, stroking her arms, and cupping her buttocks with gentle passion, the biologist felt the pulse begin to pound in her throat. She felt hot as a flush of sexual arousal spread over her face, neck, and down her chest.

The missionary pressed her back to the bed, and they sat together there, side-by-side. The Asian girl pressed the firm flesh of her breasts up against Janet's more mature, heavier globes. Janet could tell by the stiffness of the Karen's nipples that the girl was as excited as she was.

They kissed, their tongues mingling, providing Janet with a flavor more delicious than any food. Karen's hands moved over Janet's body, cupping her breasts, then brushing her swollen nipples with feather-light touches, until she thought she would go mad from excitement. She tugged at her wrists, trying to free hands, so that she could fondle the missionary girl's beautiful little breasts in turn and lovingly caress her between the legs. She moaned in frustration when she could not.

"Karen," she gasped in her ear. "I need to touch you so badly. I'll go insane if I can't hold you."

"Please let me take care of you, Janet," the missionary girl answered in a husky whisper. "Accept what I offer you, please, just lie back and take my gift." She slipped lower, and sucked an engorged nipple into her mouth.

"You win, lover. I surrender," Janet sighed. "Take me, do whatever you want with me." She threw back her head, closed her eyes and gave herself completely over to the girl's ministrations. It was even better than the first night on the beach.

While Karen's lips were busy kissing and nipping the biologist's breasts, her hand found its way down between Janet's legs. Janet arched back, her thighs thrust forward and up, her legs spread open as the girl's delicate fingers stroked the wetness inside her lower lips, and her mouth was fastened on Janet's amazingly sensitive nipples.

There was something special about being tied up and helpless in the hands of a lover, Janet realized, something that made the sex more delicious, more exciting. It even added to the intensity of the coupling to know that they were being forced to perform for Charlie's entertainment. Janet's will was being submerged by the will of another, by two others, and she had no say in they did. She was free to wallow in pure lust, as she had neither control over what she was doing nor what was being done to her body, and thus no responsibility for anything that happened.

She was coming close to a climax, writhing like an animal, when she heard Charlie say, "Get on the bed, an' I wanna see the bitch suck you."

She opened her eyes. The command had been issued to Karen. She obediently began to lie back on the bed, gently drawing Janet down on top of her.

"The king wants you to suck me, dear Janet," she said. "We must obey him." Her hands gently but firmly steered Janet's head into position between her open thighs.

Although Janet was frustrated by the timing of Charlie's command, coming as it did when she was so close to an orgasm, she certainly had no objection to carrying out this new order. To her, giving pleasure to her young lover was quite as satisfying as being pleasured by her. She eagerly lowered her head over the girl's sex, inhaling the musky perfume as her mouth brushed Karen's engorged lower lips. As she worked her tongue into Karen's slit, she heard Charlie's voice again, this time coming from directly behind her.

"Get your ass up, bitch," he ordered. She could feel his hand under her buttocks, applying pressure, urging her hindquarters higher.

Janet lifted her head and turned back to look at him.

"Keep suckin' her, bitch!" Charlie snapped.

Suddenly, Janet felt a sharp, stinging sensation slice across the back of her thighs. She screamed in pain from the unexpected attack. When she looked back, she saw that Charlie was holding a whippy bamboo rod in his hand. A second later, the rod hissed down, this time biting into the soft flesh at the top of her buttocks. She screamed again. The strokes of the bamboo rod inflicted sharp agony like the cut of a knife, then left a throbbing sting afterward. Janet knew she was not strong enough to withstand such pain.

"Stop, please, Your Majesty, I'll obey you!" she cried, and immediately lowered her head back to Karen's brimming slot. She was not quick enough to suit Charlie, who struck her again, this time raising a long, pink welt along the base of her bottom globes.

"Get to it, cunt!" he growled.

Janet lurched forward involuntarily, as her body instinctively tried to evade the attack.

"I said, get yer ass up, an' keep lickin' that bitch," Charlie gritted, scoring her flesh three more times with his rod.

Janet did not dare lift her head to look back again, and when she shrieked in pain from the strokes of the bamboo, her cries were muffled in Karen's pussy, around which her lips were planted. Fighting her natural urge to waggle her poor posterior in an effort to dodge, she forced herself to arch her back and lift her hips, making her hindquarters a better target, if he wished to continue to chastise her.

"Open up yer legs," Charlie ordered.

Janet was relieved that he had stopped beating her, at least for the moment. She had no desire to give him any excuse for resuming the chastisement, so she obeyed instantly, moving her knees well apart to offer him an intimate view of her sex and bottomhole.

Moments later, she felt his fingers moving over the lips of her womanhood, and then spreading them apart to probe within. As soon as he began these intimate caresses, Janet realized that the caning had not cooled her ardor. On the contrary, she was now more aroused than ever. Her logical mind was bewildered. How could being beaten with a stick by an ugly old man be the source of sexual arousal?

But there was no time to think about what it meant, no time to consider the implications. She felt the soft but insistent pressure of the head of his cock against the entrance to her sex, and then he was inside her, his penis pushing aside her oily inner lips, filling her suddenly and completely, delving deep inside her, and her orgasm erupted like a volcano. She was still licking and sucking on Karen's greasy sex knob, but her mind was elsewhere, and she knew nothing but the incredible pleasure that seemed to burst from every cell in her body.

Charlie slid deeper into her warm sheath, and Janet raised her hips higher, backing to meet him, straining to engulf as much of his thickness as possible. He directed her movements with his hands on her hips, urging her into the rhythm he wanted, riding her like a jockey. She could feel the bamboo rod that Charlie still retained in one hand rubbing against her thigh as he pumped her. She wondered if he was going to hit her again, and if he did, whether that would be more exciting.

"Fuck me, fuck me, you hot little bitch!" he shouted. The little observer in the corner of Janet's mind noticed again the change in Charlie's enunciation, if not his vocabulary. The rod hissed down on her thigh to lend a fiery emphasis to this command.

"Yes, master!" Janet shrieked into Karen's sex. She threw herself into even more furious motion, her thighs describing powerful circles like the driving wheel of a fleshy locomotive, as she forced his cock in and out of her sheath. Karen climaxed at the moment Charlie struck Janet's thigh, bowing up her back to thrust her hips forward, and screaming, "Sweet Janet, I love you!" but the biologist did not hear her. She was in the throes of a second, titanic, orgasm, one that made the first seem ordinary by comparison. Her pussy clenched Charlie's cock as it pulsed inside her when he came.

Charlie continued to drive in and out of Janet for a long time after he climaxed, his erection subsiding only very gradually. Each stroke sent another wave of shuddering pleasure through her. Finally, he collapsed on her back, his slowly softening rod still inside her. His beard felt as coarse and scratchy as steel wool on her back.

Janet sank down, to laying her head across Karen's sweet young thighs. She had never imagined that anything could feel as good as that second orgasm. In retrospect, she understood that the painful strokes of the cane had actually sharpened her pleasure by providing a contrasting sensation, like a like the salt in her favorite confection, a chocolate-covered pretzel. She had never before considered the possibility that pleasure and pain might be related or even, in some instances, interchangeable. She would have to think about it.