[missile]

The next afternoon, they attended. Dara had been loathe to dress herself in anything from her wardrobe. It was all ungainly large.

Sally assured her that the final appearance, that of a waif adrift in her own clothing, would be an asset at such an affair.

The parlor of the house they arrived at was set up for a music recital. A piano was centered by three banks of chairs. An usher found them seats, then made way for a waiter with champagne.

The forty-some other guests seemed perfectly normal to Dara?s eye. But she?d never been to an actual orgy before, and didn?t really know what to look for.

Finally, a man took the seat at the piece, and a woman stood in the curve of the device, looking through music sheets.

?What shall we play?? she asked.

?What do you think they will appreciate?? he retorted. A selection was made and they started to perform. Slowly, Dara came to understand that they were pretending to be practicing alone, perhaps the day before a party.

The little play proceeded quickly. Until the man made a mis-stroke upon the keys. She remonstrated him for the error. As a punishment, he was forced to remove a piece of clothing.

Then she used the wrong word in singing the song. The same penalty was applied to her. Very soon, they were both naked, with two more songs yet to ?practice.? The penalties for mistakes after that took a significant turn to the vulgar.

Finally, they were offering challenges to each other. She sang a ditty a capella, as he strove to cleave her torso apart with his tongue, starting at her Altar to Venus. Dara noted no mistakes in her rendition.

The man was equally adept at tickling the ivories as she attempted to suck his brains out through his manhood.

The lights came up just then, and Dara noticed the remarkable amount of imitation and participation on the parts of the other guests.

But Aunt Sally had disappeared at some point.

?Miss O?Shay?? Behind her seat, a tall man with striking features beckoned to her. She glanced around once for Sally once more, then stepped towards him. He turned and strode to a small office off of the parlor.

Inside was a desk. He sat behind it and gestured towards a chair in front of it. She sat, climbing up into it.

He regarded her for a moment. ?Do you love your aunt?? he finally asked.

?Yes.?

?I know she wasn?t entirely comfortable bringing you here, tonight.?

?No, not entirely. But I wished to, to help her.?

?So I understand.? He leaned forward. ?I am Baron Steinfeder. Your aunt owes me a great debt.?

?That is my understanding, sir.?

?She agreed to bring you here, tonight, as part of repaying that debt. But I fear that she might take exception to some of the things you?ll be invited to do.

?So, I wrote her a receipt.?

?A receipt, Baron??

?Yes. I have forgiven her about three quarters of her debt.? He rose to walk around the desk and sit on it. ?Then I sent her home. I fear that she?d balk, or drive you to balking, and interfering with our fun.?

?I understand, sir.?

?Good. Now, please stand.? He helped her to her feet, lifting her from the overstuffed chair. ?Understand that your aunt has her receipt. Your coming has satisfied me in that respect. From here on,? and he crouched to look directly into her eyes, ?you can leave at any point. But I hope that you will stay for the entire evening. You might enjoy yourself.?

?I am at your disposal, sir.? Privately, she had noticed that the door to the room they were in was very thick. Dara suspected soundproofing. Sally may have been invited to leave, or she may have been dragged through some other door, kicking and screaming. She would try to last as long as possible, on the chance that the Baron was not being entirely up front.

?Take off your clothes, please.? She obeyed, soon being stripped down to petticoat, stockings and the corset.

?Fascinating,? he murmured, walking around her. A hand reached out to lift, weigh and caress one breast. Another pressed her petticoat to outline her derriere. ?You are the size of a child, but fully developed as a rather tempting young woman. This should be interesting. Come.?

He strode to the far wall from the door to the parlor. Dara was not in the least surprised when the bookcase withdrew to reveal a ?secret? passage.

Down a short hallway, another section of wall moved to allow entry to a bedroom. A woman was tied to the bed. At least, Dara was fairly sure it was a woman. Sheets covered everything but the hand and feet, sticking out towards the posters they were shackled to, and a naked, shaking ass.

Dara didn?t recognize the behind, but she did conclude that it wasn?t Sally?s.

?Minuette has disappointed me,? the Baron was saying. ?Her act this evening was to take ten minutes longer than it did. My other entertainers had to scramble to be ready when she did that.?

At his words, Dara saw a distinctive birthmark on one cheek. This was, indeed, the woman from the piano recital pantomime.

?What,? he asked, ?do you think the punishment should be for a ten minute failure?? On the wall behind the man, the young woman noted a rug beater on the wall. Not an implement normally kept in the bedroom, she took it to be a ?clue.?

?Perhaps,? she said slowly, watching the man?s eyes, ?a beating? One stroke for every minute of outrage??

?One?? he asked.

?Well, I don?t know if it?s a first offense??

?Ah. Very well.? He handed her the beater and moved to stand at the foot of the bed. She hefted the unwieldy device carefully. At about thirty inches in length, it was as tall as she was.

She remembered her father?s comments on fighting with a claymore. Lift the thing in the air and let gravity take it down. So she tried that. Heft, lean and drop.

The whisk-like twists of wire fell to the nearest cheek of the woman. Minuette cried and writhed, but after the pitiful smack on her behind, it was clearly overacting.

?Harder,? the Baron said. Minuette moaned louder. ?Not YOU!? he said.

Dara wrestled the device up again, let it fall and this time pushed down as well. The impact was far more satisfying to everyone in the room. Three more and Dara stepped back, dragging the rug beater behind her.

?What are you doing?? Steinfeder asked.

?I?m going to move to the other side,? she told him. ?I can?t reach the other butt cheek from here.?