י!

"Can't we just keep her like she is?" Sylvia asked.

"No, Silly," Claire explained, "She needs relief for her wrists and ankles. Besides, she'd take up too much room in the sleeping bag, bent over like that. I have a better idea."

Claire's "better idea" consisted of having me slip my arms behind me, into one of the nylon back packs, then tying it tightly closed and strapping it securely to my back, the straps criss-crossing tightly across my chest. She then took two strips of surgical tape from the first-aid kit and taped my ankles tightly to my thighs, forcing me to keep my knees bent.

"That's good as far as it goes," She mused, looking down at me as I knealt helplessly on the ground, "But I'd like to

play around with you a bit. I don't often get a chance to experiment and there are some ideas I've always wanted to try...."

Such ideas! First she took lengths of dental floss and tied them, one end knotted securely into my curly hair and the other end around my big toe, one for each foot, so short that I had to keep my knees pointed straight down and my head bent back. She then took straps from the remaining back pack and buckled them about my waist, tightening and re-tightening until my midriff was compressed a full four inches!

"Unggh! Oooooh!" I gasped as she pulled at the straps,

"Oh please! That's much too tight!"

"Nonsense Dear," She smiled, "A night of this will give you an excellent hour-glass figure in the morning. Hmmm, that reminds me of another idea!"

She proceeded to peel off more tape from the first-aid kit and began circling the base of each of my breasts with it, squeezing, kneading, taping, until each breast jutted out from the base like a round, ripe melon, and my nipples were thrusting out like oversized thimbles.

"Well what a picture!" Mavis, rejoining us, looked down at me approvingly and I looked longingly up at her as she sttod there naked with her compabions, their bodies gleaming with the perfume they had sprayed on, "Well then, it's Bed-Time!"

Giggling merrily, the three lesbians slid my bound, feminized, taped and floss-tied body into the oversized sleeping bag, knees first, so that when they climbed in after me, my head came up only to their perfumed hips.

What followed was a dizzying night of sheer, hampered, sexual frustration for me. First, I felt myself squeezed and jostled this way and that as arms and legs entertwined about me. Then a pair of legs were raised, the toes brushing my nipples. There was a twisting movement, and someone's face was down with mine, but upside down, so that her legs must be sticking out the top of the bag. I felt her lips all over my face, kissing me, licking my eyelids and neck, blowing playfully into my ears as someone's toes tweaked my nipples. Then she turned, presenting me with the back of her head, and began orally servicing the

woman in front of me, arching her back so that the woman who had slid in behind me could pleasure her pussy, leaving my face mashed in her silky hair.

།

But not for long. The woman behind me, who was eagerly lapping at the upturned crotch, paused long enough to twist me around (Ouch! My poor hair & toes!) and clamp my head between her thighs. Knowing what was expected, I began lapping fervently, passionately, at the sweet, moist pussy before me.

All around me, it seemed, was a mass of twisting, loving, woman-flesh. Legs encircled my body and playful toes tickled my ears. Could this be just three girls? And which one was I pleasuring? I tried to puzzle out the arrangement: Girl A was inverted, tonguing Girl B, who was upright. Girl C was paying oral homage to Girl A while pressing me (Girl D?) into her hungry womanhood. But I had no sooner worked this out than someone moved and the whole configuration changed. And changed again. And again. I slept that night if you can call that cramped, perfumed, suffocating semi-conciousness Sleep with my head pillowed against one luscious ass while another shapely rear end pushed snugly into my face and a foot pressed at my aching, longing, disguised crotch. And then a girl moved, and the whole configuration changed. And changed again. And again....

"How do you keep your makeup so fresh?"

It was Sylvia, clad once again in a conservative black swimsuit, smiling down at me as she and Mavis pulled my bound form from the sleeping bag and Claire cut the bonds from my hair and toes and released my arms from the backpack that had secured them overnight. I stretched as best I could with my legs still taped, and almost immediately crossed my hands over my swollen breasts.

"Such modesty!" Mavis grinned, "And after all you've been through. It's quite charming, actually. But come along now. You smell like a Soho Brothel. Bath-time, Girlie!"

"All right," I found my voice at last, a parched, highpitched whisper. I felt sticky all over, and a dip in the river where all my troubles had started seemed like a good idea. "Untape me."

"Untape you, is it?" Mavis stood up, arching an imperious eyebrow as she gazed haughtily down at me, "Rather an abrupt tone, for a Slave-girl!"

"You're right," Claire agreed, "Just for that, let's make her duck-walk all the way down to the stream. And I have a great idea for helping her keep up!"

Rummaging through her pack, Claire produced aflat plastic spring-clip, normally used for closing snack-packs, and two lengths of leather cord. One length went to tie my elbows behind my back, causing my taped breasts to thrust out and my forearms to wave helplessly at my sides. The other she tied to the handle of the spring-clip.