Friday, November 8th, 2013 – April Lovel – Tacoma, WA

I blinked, glancing at the digital clock displayed in the lower right corner of my laptop's screen. I had been writing for a solid hour, lost in creating my account, only slightly edited, of Master and Mistress's story. I was inspired by Vivian. She had written one book on what she had learned from Master and Mistress, watching from the outside and interviewing as many of their conquests as she could. The first Holy Book of our burgeoning religion.

But I wanted to write their story from the other sluts' and my intimate perspective.

I closed my laptop, padding towards the elevator. The Murano Hotel lobby was a pleasant place to write, with comfortable furniture and a crackling fire. And it was blessedly quiet. Since Master commandeered the entire hotel, only Master, us sluts, and his servants lived here. And they mostly hung out in the convention ballrooms that had been transformed into game rooms, stocked with video games and TV's, and other entertainments.

The lobby also had an adjacent restroom. That was very important. As my pregnancy developed, I found I had to use the restroom more and more often. I wasn't the only pregnant slut; my girlfriend Violet was also. I was carrying Master's child, and Violet was carrying either Master's or Mistress's child. We were both excited to find out which, our due dates only a few days apart in mid-April. I couldn't wait to hold my baby.

The elevator dinged, I headed upstairs. I pulled out a keycard and unlocked the door to Violet's room. "Hey, cutie," I announced, then blinked. Where was she? She had been here when I left.

I shrugged, and whipped out my laptop. I probably had a little more time, so I could get some writing done. Lillian was getting spanked right now, so she would undoubtedly be delayed by pleasuring Mistress—disciplining her sluts always made our Mistress so horny. No sense in wasting the time. I opened my file, and had just started typing when the electronic lock hummed and Violet walked in, naked and holding the cute negligee I had bought her last week.

She sat down next to me, kissed me on the cheek, and said, "We should get ready."

"Sure," I smiled, then gave her a peck on the lips. I tasted something spicy—pussy. "Umm, you've been fooling around with someone."

"Yeah," she shrugged. "Just a maid."

"I'm sorry I missed out," I pouted, then gave her another kiss, savoring that spicy flavor. "I love the taste of pussy. Maybe there's time to have a little fun."

"Maybe," Violet grinned. "I love it when you go down on me!"

That sounded like a wonderful idea. My girlfriend had the second-best-tasting pussy in the world, after Mistress. I knelt on the floor, the tight weave rough on my knees, and spread her thighs open like a book. Her pussy was glistening with juices, and looked as tight as a virgin's. I adjusted my glasses, then took a long, slow lick up her slit.

She moaned softly, "I love you."

Oh, what a sweetie. "I love you, too!"

Then I buried my face into her snatch and devoured her. She tasted wonderfully spicy. It was a slightly sweeter spice than the maid's pussy staining her lips, and far more delicious. I spread her tight labia open, and worked my finger deep into her. She leaned back, moaning my name and writhing her hips into my face.

"Oh, yes! Eat me! I'm going to cream your face!"

Wonderful! I loved making her cum, and let my tongue dig deep inside her. My finger found her tiny clit, pinching and rubbing. She jumped, tossing her head back. Her pigtails danced through the air, so cute and innocent. Her moans grew in pitch, and then she shuddered and screamed out her passion, flooding my lips with her spice.

"Good one?" I asked.

"Yeah," she panted. "We really should get ready though."

My pussy was horny, but I knew we'd be having plenty of fun at the bar.

We dressed in nearly-identical, naughty schoolgirl outfits. Lillian's idea. I wore a blue-and-purple tartan skirt that barely covered my ass and a low-cut, white blouse that was so thin my nipples were clear as day through it. Violet just went with a pink-and-black tie that was loose about her neck so it wouldn't hide her choker The tie matched her black tartan skirt, dangling between her immature breasts down to the soft curve of her pregnant belly. She looked so cute and yummy.

"Come on!" I eagerly said.

We headed upstairs to Master and Mistress's suite. The bodyguards, a pair of the new recruits, let us in. 49, a voluptuous African America, took the opportunity to pat my ass while her partner, a redhead called 50, pinched Violet's nipples. They may have been new guards, but they seemed to fit right in. Master had a very discerning eye, and only found the best women to serve him.

We didn't wait long on Lillian. She looked flushed and sweaty when she walked out of their bedroom, her hard nipples straining the white blouse that was tied just beneath her breasts, and a very short, red-and-black tartan skirt swirled about her thighs as she walked. She beamed at us, cum staining her lips and chin. She ran a hand through her black hair streaked with blue and purple highlights as she walked over to us. I sighed. I must be the only slut with such unmanageable hair. Mine was always bushy, but Master seemed to love it. So I guess it was okay.

"So are we still going out tonight?" I asked eagerly.

"Yeah?" muttered Violet. I glanced at her, and she smiled. It was nice of her to go out with me, even if she wasn't excited about it.

"Hell, yeah!" Lillian exclaimed with her usual peppiness. "I know just the bar!"

Lillian hooked an arm around both of us. I couldn't help licking at Master's drying cum on her chin. My tongue reached her mouth. The dirty slut had also been pleasuring Mistress, and I savored her spicy, sweet juices on my slut-sister's lips. Violet leaned in, and we shared a sloppy, three-way kiss, Lillian's lip piercing cold and hard against my mouth.

The black-haired slut laughed. "You both have been eating fish taco tonight!"

I laughed, but Violet frowned. "No. I had a hamburger for dinner."

"She means you've been eating pussy," I giggled. Violet had quite the sheltered life. Her mother was a very abusive woman, locking Violet in a room filled with heat lamps whenever she was bad. Violet had hinted to me that once she had been caught with another girl, and that had earned her a week locked in that room. She stayed Master's slut just to avoid going back to the horrible woman, while I had stayed because I had a schoolgirl crush on Master. I still did, but it had diminished a bit as Violet and I had become close. I would always love Master and Mistress, but it was Violet that made my heart beat excitedly now.

"Oh," Violet smiled fondly, "I did eat some yummy pussy."

"That's the best kind of pussy!" Lillian grinned.

We reached the elevator, heading down to the lobby and sharing kisses. Lillian squealed when Violet slapped her ass. My girlfriend shyly smiled, and said, "Just making sure you were properly spanked for your mean comment."

"Umm, I was properly spanked," Lillian purred. I could tell; her ass was cherry red.

The elevator dinged; the doors opened on the lobby. 51 stood at the doors, waiting. The Black bodyguard wore the traditional uniform: navy blue; short skirt; half-unbuttoned blouse that had slipped down to reveal a pink nipple; a thick, black gunbelt; gun; handcuffs; amulet, bronze, dangling between her small tits; and her choker, tight about her throat, engraved with 51.

"What are you three up to?" 51 yawned. She looked tired, working hard to keep Master and Mistress safe.

"Going out," Lillian grinned. "Want to come? I've arranged for a bunch of hot guys to bathe us in cum."

"Wait, what?" squeaked Violet. "I thought we were just going to the bar."

"Right, for some cum-rum," Lillian giggled, a wicked gleam in her dark eyes. "Well, virgin-cum-rums for them. Which is just cum, of course!"

"So what's this about a cum bath?"

"Haven't you ever wanted to be just absolutely drenched in cum?" Lillian asked. "To feel all that hot, sticky jizz running down your body?"

"No," Violet answered, and I shook my head. Though it did sound interesting.

"You're talking bukkake, right?" 51 asked.

"Well, well, well," grinned Lillian, nudging the Black bodyguard. "Do you want to get your slut on with us, 51?"

"No, thanks. My husband's expecting me."

Violet looked at me and mouthed 'bukkake'. I shrugged.

"Bring him along. We could use another Black guy with a big dick showering us in spunk!"

"I'm..." 51 yawned, " ... too tired. Have fun."

Lillian shrugged, "Your loss."

51 pulled out her Nextel, the cell-phone-like radios the bodyguards used. "51 to control, who's on the duty roster for escorting three VIPs?"

"Squad F," a woman answered. I wasn't sure which bodyguard had answered; there were a hundred of them now.

"They'll be guarding Lillian, Violet, and April all night. Have an escort readied."

"Roger that, ma'am."

"Okay, I'm signing off," 51 said, punching the up button on the elevator.

"Have a good one, ma'am."

"You, too, 38."

It took about ten minutes for squad F to assemble our vehicles and escorts. Three black SUV's pulled up at the front of the hotel and the ten bodyguards of the squad formed up around us. They were commanded by 07, a tall, Black woman with her hair braided in tight cornrows. She was one of the women that had volunteered to serve Master after the Miracle, quitting her job as a police officer and traveling to Washington State to join up.

"So where are we going, miss?" 07 asked Lillian when we trooped out.

"The Lucky Cowgirl in Spaneway," Lillian answered. "It's a great bar, just the right sort of atmosphere for what I have planned."

"Which is a bukkake?" I asked, still not sure what that word meant.

07 snorted with laughter. "You girls are nasty."

"Umm, another bodyguard that's heard of it. You are all such sluts!" Lillian laughed. "Do you want to join in?"

"I'm not allowed to indulge on duty, miss," 07 answered. "You know that."

"Oh, how forgetful of me. Well, if you change your mind, we'll forget that you're on duty."

"I'd know," she flatly said. "We take our job very seriously."

We piled into the SUV, the middle one of three, and sped off. Police lights strobed on all three vehicles, letting people know to get out of our way. They took the left on 13th Street, heading down the hill towards the on-ramp to Highway 705. The SUV's raced onto the freeway, quickly merging onto I-5, and finally Highway 512, before we exited onto Pacific Avenue fifteen minutes later, heading south.

The entire time, Violet stared out the SUV's window. Finally, I couldn't take her silence anymore. "What is it?" I asked her, nuzzling my girlfriend.

She shrugged, "Just thinking about a problem."

"What?"

She glanced at me, then looked down at her hands. "It's nothing, April. I just don't know what to do."

"C'mon, you can tell me," I said, nudging her. "I love you."

Violet glanced at me, her lips working like she wanted to say something. "It's fine. Let's just have fun tonight, okay."

"You sure?"

She leaned against me and kissed me on the lips. "Yeah. There's no sense in ruining tonight with it."

"You'll tell me, right?"

"Yeah. I just need to find the right way."

I frowned at that, opening my mouth to press her, when the SUV pulled into a parking lot.

"We're here," Lillian said, clapping her hands in excitement. "This is going to be so much fun!"

A busty bodyguard, numbered 84, opened the SUV door and Violet slid out. I followed after her, and had my first look at the Lucky Cowgirl. It was a dark brown building with a riotous neon sign of a scantily-clad cowgirl: jean skirt, frilly blouse, cowboy boots, and a stetson hat perched on her head. The parking lot was large, but it was half-empty. That was strange since it was Friday night.

"Illness, the bar tender, owed me a favor," Lillian grinned, seeming to read my mind. "I once fucked him, so he was thrilled to close the bar for our private party. Plus the hundred grand I'm paying him. You should have seen the look on Rachel's face when I requisitioned it."

I giggled, imagining the brunette looking at the requisition form labeled 'for bukakke party'.

She pulled me to the doors; I was disappointed that they were the normal doors and not the double, half-doors you'd see saloons having in old Westerns. Music thumped inside the bar, screeching guitar, pumping bass, pounding drums—rock and roll. A group of men were lounging about, sipping beers, and I saw only two women. I recognized one, Jessie from the church, but the other was a Native American girl with cinnamon skin hanging on the arm of a skinny guy with a thin mustache and a weaselly face.