The Rosewood Institute

by beltedone

  One night before bedtime, they were in the pallor with just one weak light bulb to light the dark room. The ladies were dressed in their night robes that looked about a hundred years old and were in tatters. 6 and 9 were in their usual places nestled on their laps with their heads on their bosoms. They stared at each other and smiled through their pacifiers.

  “Now, I know you don’t understand us, dearies, but I hope what we say to you, you will keep in your heart. Once upon a time, there were two beautiful sisters. They grew up in a very wealthy family that had made a fortune in the fur trade in the 1800s. The great granddaddy had invested his money well so that his sons and daughters would never have to work ever again. He built this beautiful house, so we’d always have a place to live.

  “Then our father was born. He was a fine, handsome man who looked more than a little like Rhett Butler with his slick-backed black hair and small, well-trimmed mustache, but he had flaws. Although, he had a wonderful, adoring wife, he had to be with other women. I know you are too young and innocence to understand how a man could do that, but he did. He couldn’t help himself. He drank and gambled and whored for he was weak. We still loved him but realized he was a weak man. Well, one woman he was with couldn’t bear it when he tried to end their relationship. She killed herself.

  “The scandal rocked the Hamptons that year. It turned out Daddy was also paying for his women with money stolen from his investment company, because he thought if he used his own money, his wife would find out. He went to jail soon afterward. Much of his fortune went to lawyers and appeals. So, two teenage girls who should have come out at a beautiful cotillion in spring with flowers and gentlemen callers were shunned by polite society. The handsome, young men stopped coming around. Our mother, shamed by her husband, locked herself and us away. She became sickly soon after, and we took care of her for the rest of her life. By then, it was too late. We were middle-aged with no dowry and no longer suitable prospects.

  “Two young girls with dreams of young men and dances, weddings and babies were left with nothing but our fantasies and our small fortune. We both wanted children so badly. So now, we give away much of our money to children’s charities and the care of you little ones, and for a brief time, we are mothers, and we get to love you as you should be loved.”

  A tear rolled down Dorothy’s eye, leaving a trail through her caked makeup.

  Both 6 and 9 were snuggled into the ladies’ dry, small breasts. They were crying too. Later, they agreed that they would return to the ladies and be babies for them again.

  Camilla said, “Are those tears I see? Don’t cry on our account. It is not a bad life, dearies. We are happy, and we make many children happy.”

  Finally, the week was over. 6 and 9 were brought back to the changing room, and their bonds were removed. Dorothy said to them, “You’ve both been the very best babies. If you ever want to come back home to us, our door is always open. I know it is a hard world out there, and sometimes having a mommy love you unconditionally can be a blessing.”

  Both 6 and 9 had mother problems.

  6’s mother couldn’t understand her lifestyle. She wanted a girly-girl and got a tomboy. They had constant fights about 6’s surfing ambition and the rigorous training that 6 had to endure to become the best. To this day, her mother refused to talk to about her or admit she had a daughter.

  9’s mom was afraid of showing too much affection to 9 and thus incurring 9’s father’s wrath. Any sign of love was a sign of weakness in his family. Any sign of weakness was met with ridicule or worse.

  Camilla kissed 9 on the cheek, Dorothy kissed 6, and they left. 6 and 9 were both sorry to go. They each had rough childhoods and even though the ladies were obviously a bit strange, they were treated with love all week.

  It didn’t take long before Wo Tun came and got them, and they were in a van going back toward New York. 6 and 9 cuddled in the back not knowing they had a date with their strange destiny.

  CHAPTER TWELVE -

  Cooking for an Orgy

  When 9 next reported to the kitchen, Wang was beside himself, muttering and cursing.

  “She has gone to far. Too far. I’m an artist. I cook delicious, beautiful food in the Szechuan tradition. I don’t know anything about food for a Roman orgy. She wants authentic Roman-orgy food. My cookbooks don’t cover orgies.”

  “Master Wang, perhaps I can help. Do you have a laptop around? I’ll Google Roman orgies.”

  And that is exactly what he did. 9 spent hours looking over and reading about how the ancient Romans ate before they had wild sex in groups. He looked up lots of websites, wrote down the suggestions, and reported back to Wang.

  “You’re right about orgies. There is not a lot of information on them. Seems they stuffed roast pigs with fowl. Can you do that?”

  “That does not sound very tasty. I’ll stuff the roast pigs with apples and breadcrumbs. Maybe, I’ll put an apple in each pig’s mouth. Anything else I can use?”

  “They cooked honey cakes. I bet there is an Asian equivalent. Also, they talk about bird tongues. Gross.”

  “Yes, honey cakes I can do. Bird tongues, you say? Thin and slimy, I bet. I have an idea for the bird tongues. I could batter and fry some squid tentacles. That would look like tongues. Thank you for your help. Now, I will give you the recipe for honey cakes. We will need a lot of them. By the way, you and 6 will be dessert.

  “What?”

  “It is called Nyotaimori. It is the one exception to the Roman theme. In Japan, they eat sushi off of the naked bodies of perfectly still, beautiful women. For the Roman orgy, you will be put on the table, hypnotized to be perfectly still, and the diners will eat dessert off your naked bodies. They will eat and lick. For the event, your belts will be removed. It is bad form to explode while you are being licked. That is one reason for the hypnosis.”

  9 gulped. “Okay.”

  “Now, for your next lesson in the way of the knife. It is a fallacy that only balanced blades can be thrown. Any blade can be thrown if you know its center of gravity. Take this paring knife, for example. It has a rubber handle and not balanced at all but look.”

  Wang picked up the knife, flipped it in the air, caught it by the very tip, and threw it into his target on the wall twenty feet away.”

  “That is amazing.”

  “Yes, but if you miss, what have you done? You have just given an opponent a weapon he didn’t have before. Always find the balance on the knife and always aim for the chest—the broadest place and where the heart, lungs, and cardiovascular system is. Even a near hit on the chest cavity will be fatal. Now, you try.”

  9 felt along the knife until he found the balance like Wang showed him then threw the knife in a straight line at the target. It stuck in at an edge of Wang’s target.

  “Not bad for a beginner. Try again.”

  On the second attempt, 9 found the balance point, grasped the knife and threw it, sending it through the glass portion of a kitchen door.

  At that point, 6 was coming through the door and just missed being stuck.

  “9, you trying to kill me?”

  “Oops.”

  “You fool. I showed you how to aim. You are hopeless. Clean up that mess, and let’s see you chop some onions. Hopefully, you can remember to do that correctly.”

  Chagrined, 9 went for a dustpan and brush.

  6 got the serving tray she was looking for and left, thinking that even in this place, boys will be boys.

  That night, the sexy slave duo became dessert. Both 6 and 9 were washed carefully then laid out on a long table with a beautiful lace, off-white tablecloth. Confections of all kinds, such as tarts, pieces of cakes, pieces of cream pie, chocolate cake and other treats were piled on their bodies. Whip cream was sprayed over top of it all and chocolate syrup and nuts on top of that. Chocolate sauce was pooled in their navel. Their entire bodies were turned into a delicious treat.

  The smells were amazing, and it was hard for 6 to stay still. She was having a seri
ous sugar issue even with the hypnosis.

  A sheet was gently laid over them.

  The revelers came into the hall, which was turned into a Roman dining room. All the tables and chairs were removed; there were lounges for the men and women to lie upon, and a low, long table for the food.

  The guests were not dressed in sheets, but form-fitting silk togas, trimmed in gold, and leather sandals. The women had their hair up in the Roman style. There was much laughter and bonhomie.

  Lady Victoria came in, dressed as a Roman emperor with the gold olive branches around her head. She looked at the crowd, who had obviously been drinking, and said, “Tonight, we dine like the conquerors we are. You are all the new Romans taking what you want on a global scale. Tonight, we celebrate your conquests.”

  She raised her glass and toasted the people there.

  A cheer rang through the room.

  They sat down on the loungers and were attended by naked slaves. Each couple got a slave for the night. The guests tore pieces of the roast pigs and ate them with their fingers. They wiped the animal grease on their slaves in the Roman tradition. They ate the “birds tongues” the same way and marveled at how good the squid was with garlic and butter. They drank strong wine and got louder and louder.

  At one point, two of the female slaves hopped up on the serving table and began to dance and gyrate to the music in the background.

  Lady Victoria had a lute, lyre and flute playing, although why they were playing selections from Billy Joel was anyone’s guess. Somehow, Only the Good Die Young seemed appropriate. Lady Victoria had explained to Wo Tun earlier that there was a dearth of Roman Empire songs and the quintessential Mr. Joel was at least a New Yorker.

  The air was getting hot and close, and one could feel the tension like electricity. Desire was becoming a raw, visceral thing. The dancers moved their bodies in amazing ways, showing off their beautiful breasts and buns. They moved their pelvises in ways that where foreign to nature but very suggestive. Both the men and women were being caught in their spell.

  Finally, the one other male slave, a handsome square-jawed guy with amazing pecs and thick curly black hair, danced between the two women. They moved in and made a sandwich of him. Their bodies were slick with sweat. Their genitals unbound, their groins made contact, and their groans and moans could be heard around the room. One female slave turned and offered her buns to the male slave. By then, he had a massive erection that disappeared into her buns without his hands being used. The female behind him was humping his buns and moaning. The male slave reached a hand around the female slave in front of him and started to massage her hot, quivering pussy.

  They moved as one for what seemed like half an hour, caught in a world of perfect pleasure. Stroke for stroke, they moved as one, oblivious to all around them. Then, it happened not together but as a seismic event. The first female slave orgasmed. It was a tremendous thing, like watching a vertical tsunami. This caused the male to go over the top with a shriek and a growl, which sent the final slave into the throes of the most amazing life-changing orgasm of her life. They all slumped on the floor, spasming out of control.

  Lady Victoria got up and walked over to the table with a sheet over it. She said, “I took some liberties with the Roman theme tonight. The Japanese have an amazing custom of eating sushi off of beautiful, naked women. Tonight, I offer you dessert off 6 and 9. They will be perfectly still while you lick every inch of their sexy skin. When one section is licked clean, more confections and syrups will be put on that spot. They are your delicious toys to enjoy. Oh, one thing. For this tasty treat, you can’t use your hands until I say you can. And all their tasty parts are available to you. You will notice no chastity belts. The sweet candy juices can mingle with their own juices if you can entice those juices from their bodies.”

  She lifted the sheet to show them a sea of tasty treats with only the heads of 6 and 9 showing.

  The crowd roared.

  For an hour, they were licked and teased. Every time a section of their body was licked clean, more cakes and treats were piled on. Chocolate sauce mixed with pussy and cream pie was eaten with precum.

  Although hypnotized to deal with the intense stimulation, both 6 and 9 came close to cumming several times. It was to their benefit that the greedy diners couldn’t care less about the slaves’ orgasms and moved to another spot before they went too far. It was like nothing 6 and 9 had ever felt before. It went on for so long that parts of their bodies were rubbed raw.

  Eventually, the drunken revelers turned their attentions from the delicious treats to themselves and the slaves.

  Four people climbed up on the table. Both were revelers who couldn’t care less about the slaves. Both couples proceeded to do their partners in doggie style on the top of the table. One swarthy-looking male entered his female companion from the rear and grabbed her hair as a handhold as if he were riding a brahma bull. The other did a reversal. The male was on his hands and kneels, and his female companion entered him from the rear. The standing companions had their backs to each other, and while they were fucking their companions, they were turning around and kissing and fondling their standing equals. All four started to moan and squeal in unison and gave off the loudest cry of the evening up to that point as they orgasmed in unison. Four gorgeous bodies as one were screaming as loud as they could as fluids flowed and bodies jerked out of control.

  After that, it was pure bedlam. Bodies meshed with bodies in natural and extremely unnatural positions. Slowly, the central group of fornicators became bigger and bigger as if it was an organism consuming other organisms. They screamed, orgasmed, moaned, thrashed. Most were covered in red wine and looked like they belonged at a vampire orgy. Food had been flung on the walls and ceiling.

  Lady Victoria thought to herself that she was glad she didn’t have to clean up the room. There was not a clean surface anywhere. She ducked as a piece of pig flew by her head, and she was glad it wasn’t a switchblade.

  After hours of depravity, they slowly went to the showers to clean up. This involved some play in the showers as some of the guests used any opportunity for another final screw.

  While 9 was washing 6, he said, “That was kind of kinky amazing, wasn’t it?”

  “Yeah, but you know, I kind of wish we could put on a few more plays. I liked the Arabian nights so much, I wanted to try another scene.”

  “Let’s think of something totally depraved and ask Lady Victoria if we can do it. Maybe, if we think up the stuff, we can control a bit of what goes on.”

  “Good idea. Here is my idea for a scene.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN -

  Cops Gone Wild

  The next day, 6 and 9 met Lady Victoria in her office. They were kneeling with their hands behind their back like good little slaves.

  “I like your idea for a scene, 6. What will you need to make it work?”

  “I’m thinking a sports car, something high-end like a Porsche or a ‘vet, Lady. That should be at one end of the stage. And a jail cell with a cot at the other end. And some way to project images from the cell so everyone can see them. A police motorcycle and a uniform in my size would be good if you have the budget. And a nightstick. Don’t forget the nightstick.”

  “Okay, I’ll have Tun get on it. Unless you hear otherwise, you are on for tonight. Have fun with it. This is the first time two slaves have come to me with a scene. I hope it leads to other creative ideas. It gets hard thinking up different entertainments all the time.

  “By the way, you remember Sergi, the thug we met at the trip to the farm? I had Tun check into him. He is an advance man for the Russian mob. He moves into an area, kills off the human trafficking competition, and sets up his own clubs. He is supposed to stop by my establishment some night as my guest. Keep an eye on him. If he talks to any of the slaves or offers to buy your contract, I want to know about it. I know being here can be rough, but rough is better than dead.”

  “Will do, Miss.”

  “Good. No
w, go put on a show.”

  That night, an amazing show was put on. When the guests had assembled in the theater room, the lights went out, they heard the sound of a loud siren, saw flashing lights, then a single spotlight shown on a Porsche Carrera with a motorcycle cop getting off of her big bike. The beautiful policewoman moved with deliberate speed over to the left side of the car, making sure to unbuckle the strap on her Glock and keeping behind the driver.

  “Going a bit fast there, Skippy? I clocked you as going sixty in a twenty-five-mile-an-hour zone. You been drinking tonight? Had a few too many?”

  “No, officer. Just a bit tired. Sorry about the speed. I’m usually a good driver. This new Porsche seems to get away from me a bit. Lots of power under the hood. I’ll slow down. I promise.”

  “License and registration and keep your hands in sight at all times.”

  “Sure, officer.”

  He handed over the registration and license. Soon, they were handed back to him.

  “You have no outstanding warrants, but I smell something funny. Could you step out of the car?”

  He complied, standing with his hands on the car hood as directed. “Something funny? I don’t know what you mean.”

  The officer checked the car and found a baggie hidden in the seat cushion. Upon further inspection, she found a .25 caliber Beretta in the glove compartment. She took the gun out, jacked the round out of the chamber and pulled the clip.

  She held the grass up and said, “What have we here? Maybe an ounce of marijuana that you had stuffed in the seat. And the gun. You have a license for this little bad boy? Don’t you know better than to keep a round in the chamber? You going to war? Smells like it has been fired recently.”

  “What the hell. I didn’t have grass in my car. And I don’t own a gun. Why the hell are you framing me?”

  “Watch what you say to a police officer. We don’t frame people. This is all being recorded on my dash cam. Put your hands behind your back, sir. I’m going to cuff you for both our protection.”