Rachel & Janie's Massage, Part 8, My Slut Muffin!

by PenelopePinn

They revive their Emily--how possessive they've become of this lonely woman whose crusty veneer scared the students away. In a flutter of feathery kisses, they take their time to bring her back to consciousness. When she is smiling, they begin to laugh and joke with her. Teasing--

"God, Emily, you nearly ate my girl friend up," laughs Rachel.

"And to think my dad use to call you an old maid at 25," giggles Miss M. "If only he could see me between your fine legs getting as much of that old maid as I can."

Janie, now breathing normally, gives Emily a big wet kiss on her puffy lips, "Thank you! Oh, thank you! You were so good!"

Then, another click! Now what, thinks Emily dreamily, still savoring Janie's kiss and the proudness she unexpectedly feels from her compliment.

"What a slut muffin my love is!" says Jenna.

Emily's eyes open wide. "Oh! Hi!"

Before her stands the beautiful Jenna, insolently eyeing them all, hands on her hips, head titled like an exasperated prima donna. Today, no girl scout outfit, instead her small, sleek form is even more attractive draped in jazzy silk. Emily stares wondering what will become of them. After Jenna knells beside her and eagerly kisses her wet lips, she knows. They smile and smile, lovers united.

"Hmm, you can tell a slut muffin by the secondhand taste of pussy. You taste good on my girl friend, Janie."

"Your girl friend!" Janie exclaims, "Rach and I thought we were...ah...helping."

"Helping yourself to my slut muffin!" Jenna laughs, "God, how good she looks all misty eyed, blushing like a guilty girl, naked, wrapped up in all my friends."

"All your friends?" asks Emily.

"Yes,." Jenna says, guilty now herself, looking expectantly into Emily's eyes. "Don't be mad...we were just looking after the girls."

"Rachel and Janie?"

"Ah huh."

"You seduced me on purpose?"

"Now you know why."

"Am I still your girlfriend?"

"Forever..."

"Oh, good," Emily grins, and giggles "your slut muffin wants you forever, too," and wraps her arms wrap around Jenna, who kisses her again all over her drying face, resting now on her lips, slipping in a little tongue, playing.

"So," Rachel says,"that's why you knew how we felt. Emily told us we get so carried away because we are on a honeymoon--that we only want our bodies to be next to each other."

"I think Emily is a fast learner." Jasmine says, and looks around at them. "We should go soon before we while away the night. Won't you join us, Emily?"

"Is Jenna coming?"

"Sure, we are always together."

"Let's go dancing!" Miss M says, "We need to divert ourselves from the lust and love of our Emily."

"Our Emily?"

"Won't you be 'our Emily?'" smiles Jenna.

"As long as I'm your Emily." She replies, hugging Jenna fiercely to her breast as she smiles at them.

Eventually, Jenna gets up and pulls Emily to her feet. Emily is shy now standing there in her bareness before the women in their rumpled clothes. Jenna reaches between her legs and covers Emily's pussy possessively. "Is that better?" she smiles, "You'll soon see them in all their glory."

"Find her some dancing clothes!" Jasmine says as Jenna leads Emily to the bedroom she remembers fondly.

Soon they are driving in the big black limousine, the motor humming as Jenna holds her lovers hand in the front seat. They arrive at the old warehouse. As they swing around the building, they see the cars parked in the back, away from the street and the view of any passing cars. The old industrial garage door creakily opens and the car slips into the anteroom. Emily looks around worriedly.

"Sometimes we like to go to Georgies, but tonight we have entertainment here." Jasmine says from the back seat.

"You don't need to worry about your reputation, Dean Emily, we are friends, we love women and pretty girls, and we have fun together. All of us." Miss M is leaning over the partition, her arm draped naturally around Emily's chest, as though they were already the best of trusted friends.

"We've only been here once--for a massage," says Janie, "so we are as new as you."

"Wow!" say Rachel, "Do I hear a band--what a sound!" This as the doors to anteroom are opened and the glittery lights and booming sound push out to greet them.

On the stage, they see the band: Four wild girls, hair all angles, kinetic movements synching to the big beat that booms through the ballroom. Emily is shocked at all of this--the wildly dressed people gyrating before the stage where the band plays, the grandeur of the tall beveled glass doors of the anteroom, the shinny wood dance floor, the lights pulsing, all the tables festive with glasses and candles, and the high ceiling wreathed in mellow lights, lights whose pale colors change seamlessly.

"Oh, great," Miss M says, "the 'Wild Wet Girls' are playing.--WWG all the way.--You're in for a treat, Dean Emily!"

Emily looks at Miss M, "Dean Emily?"

"Is that nick name OK, we'll only call you that here where you are among friends?"

Emily suppresses her first impulse, a trace consternation from her tight-assed past, and shakes Miss M's fingertips, "Dean Emily it is!"

Jenna gives her a big hug, "What fun we'll have, Emily!"

They move into the big room, groups of people in twos and threes fall away from the dancing and come to them to hug and kiss. Sometimes the kisses are pronounced and long, lingering in their hotness, especially for Jasmine, but all of them, even Emily are lavished with affection--not the cheek-to-cheek greetings of the Continent, but the warm welcomes of the Isle of Lesbos.

Eventually, they find a group of couches, at angles, facing the stage. Here they sit a bit, settling in from the rush that greeted them. On the stage, the Wild Wet Ones live up to their name. Dressed in the shortest skirts, their tops are mere strips of black clingy cloth outlined in orange. As the strips trail across their breasts, pressed tight, circles of flesh highlight the firm mounds from which phosphorescence nipples peek. The dancers sing and posture, hips grinding into each other, arms a rhythm 'n flail, voices scream to the thumping beat. One of them, a girl in dark pink hair limbos to the crotch of her bandmate. Undulating her puss, the bandmate phallically pushes out her long microphone from between her legs. The pink-haired girl mouths the mike, suggestively, singing

All I want is your sweet love, All I want is to taste it now, All I want is my tongue in you! All I want! All I Want! All I Want!

"Not the most original lyrics," Miss M shouts into Emily's ear, "but you get the point!" and smiles tapping her fingers playfully between Emily's legs.

(Wow! This'll take some getting use to, Emily thinks, taking in the big room and its enchanting occupants, all those gorgeous women, the skinny girls dressed like sluts--me a slut muffin, too!--the really hot greetings where complete strangers taste your lips with their tongues, and now all this sexy touching.)

When the band takes a break, its members wonder over to the couch and, as is the custom, gush over Jasmine and kiss and playfully fondle her guests. The pink-haired girl stares at Emily.

"I know you!" She says, her eyes wide. "You're Ms. Hausenplat, the dean of discipline!"

It takes a moment, but setting aside the hair and the wild make-up, is the girl Emily knows as Karen Holder. "Hi Karen." She says.

Karen knells between Miss M and Emily. "That's the first time you ever called me Karen. I had such a crush on you! You always called me 'Miss Holder.' You were so formal and strict, you lived up to your nickname. Your hair was mousy brown and no make-up. Look at you now!

They stare at each other. Emily says, her newfound frankness presenting, "Remember the Saturdays when we tortured each other."

"Yes! You remember, too! We would stare for a whole hour hardly ever saying anything." Karen says. "I would be so turned on when I left you, I'd change my panties."

"I'm known as Velvet Glove now--Velly, for short--you know for the band and all--but you can still call me Ms. Holder. It turns me on: 'Sit down, Ms. Holder and reflect on the week ahead when you will study hard.'" Karen imitates Dean Hausenplat's pinched tones perfectly.

"I can say it now--I owe you. Without you being on my ass all the time, I might not have made it through college. For like months it seemed, you'd force me to be at your office 7 a.m. sharp every Saturday. I think it was hangover prevention or just to let me know you were checking on me..."

Karen sees Jenna coming toward them, she gets up and hugs her, excited. "This is her! This is my crush!"

'Emily?" Jenna looks at her friend. "My little slut muffin is your crush?"

"Your little slut muffin is my Ms. Hausenplat!" Shrieks the girl, hugging Jenna. "I am so impressed--you really get around girl. She knells back down next to Emily, pulling Jenna with her, and continues her recollection, "I told Jenna everything about us--she's my BFF. There we would be separated by that big wooden desk in your office. Me squirming, Ms. H staring, telling me to sit still. It was such torture, staring at you across the desk."

"We sat together once," Emily says, her eyes a little misty. "You were so sad about losing your boyfriend. You cried and cried. I couldn't sit there and watch. I...I couldn't keep up the facade. I sat there next to you and hugged you. I was so tempted to kiss you!"

Jenna looks at Emily wickedly, "Karen has a secret fancy, Ms. Hausenplat. She has been a bad, bad girl. She needs her punishment now."

"No! No!" says Karen, blushing. "Not that."

"Karen always wanted to be spanked, she was squirming because she kept getting excited about the thought of being bent over your knee." Jenna explains, she is holding onto Karen now, bending her toward Emily.

"Please!" Karen says, not struggling too hard as Jenna bends her over Emily's knees.

"You don't have to beg for it," Jenna teases, "I'm sure Emily is willing."

"Me?" Emily says feeling the girl's warm weight across her legs, seeing her round bottom framed in the short short skirt and silk stockings pointed up at her. (How lovely her ass is?)

"Karen is a bad, bad girl. She has bad thoughts about her dean! Tell her!" Jenna says and whacks her bottom.

Emily feels Karen squirm and thinks back to the hours they spent staring at each other. She has been a bad girl, too. Always wondering about what it would be like to...

Jenna strokes Karen's bottom. "Isn't it inviting, Ms. Hausenplat? This is the girl that longed to be spanked by you. I bet you may have had some secret thoughts yourself, my little slut muffin.

Karen pulls Jenna to her and whispers in her ear. Jenna giggles, then she returns to stroking Karen's bottom, looking into Emily's wide eyes. "I see temptation! I see the memory of all you wanted to do way back when!" Then she bends over and bites the silk stockings, gleaming teeth rip them apart, exposing the sweet mounds of Karen's beautiful bare bottom.

The other band members gather around eager to watch. "Spank her, spank her, spank the bitch!"

Jenna takes off her own panty and sits on Janie's lap, which is at a convenient angle, allowing her legs to frame Karen's upturned face. Karen turns her head and looks at Emily. "I am a bad, bad girl. Spank me and I'll make your girl friend cum!"

Then she buries her face in between Jenna's wide spread legs, whose bent knees are pressed against Emily's thigh so that the three are fitted together, a perfect picture for desire and domination.

"Spank her! Spank her!" the bandmates cheer.

"Every spank is a tongue stroke, my dear Ms. Hausenplat, slut muffin of my heart! Make your girlfriend cum!" Jenna says.

Miss M whispers to Emily, "You'll love it, your heart's long lost desire come true..." and takes Emily hand and rests it like a feather on Karen's bare bottom. Emily feels the firm flesh, tentatively squeezes it, stroking it almost idly, exploring the possibility of the treasure before her. Jenna tells her, impatiently, "Not Karen! Me! She can come later!"

Whack! down slaps the hand to the encouragement of the cheering girls. Whack! Whack! As Karen squirms, a spotlight from above the stage focuses on the threesome. The light highlights her bottom, its pink hue, growing red. Whack! More cheers as Emily's hand imprints its shape on Karen's pink ass. Emily feels the squirming girl and stops to comfort, to stroke the pinkness, so hot, but Karen pants "more..." and the crowd takes up the chant, "More! More!" Emily again takes up the rhythm, slapping and slapping, the bottom bouncing, flesh quivering, her hand stinging; she feels the squirmy front of Karen's legs across her knees, feels the stray hairy edge of the girl's pubic wetness, and feels without question her own wildness. Beneath the layers of temptation, of squirming girl hips, and her own hot center are the years of deprivation, of love lost. Here she is, every fiber of her forsaken sex now being redeemed.

To the delight of their cheering audience, the spotlight captures the pink head bobbing with each slap between Jenna's stretched, glistening legs. Karen is panting not in pain but in delirious pleasure, she is peaking, her tongue extending into Jenna again and again. Emily pushes Karen's head against Jenna, "Make her cum, Ms. Holder! Do as I say! Do it now, you bad, bad girl!" She follows the pink head as it squirms from side to side, amidst the bobbing. She experiments, slap-slap-slap watching the bobbing, looking at the sheen of sweat on Jenna's petite face, watching the pace of her pants quicken. Slap! Slap! Slap! The crowd senses they are close and roars "More! More! More! Make her come!" Jenna trembling hands guide Karen's head, which like a piston, pounds away, her tongue a spark to the combustion of Jenna's cunt: Slap! Slap! Slap! Pound! Pound! Pound! Hot wet mouth... Ahhh, they both cry out deliriously as Emily feels a fresh burst of wetness from the girl across her lap.

Suddenly, they are surrounded by giggling, exotic girls, hugging, rushing to congratulate them, adding strokes and touches and kisses. Karen is crying her head resting happily in Emily's lap "Oh God how I've always wanted you." Jenna is beside her stroking her damp hair, telling her she will always share her Emily with her, isn't she a wonderful slut muffin, isn't she beautiful. Hands reach out and touch the trio: girl, mistress, guide. Emily, afloat in this sea of goodwill, her hands still stinging, cries now, too, engulfed by the astonishing closeness of it all. She is a debutante, this grand ball her coming out party, and the spanking her dance.