Clare laughed.

- No, dypashka, you are asked to lift the hem at all!

Anne grew flatter again and very quickly glanced at me with her big, green eyes.

Then she looked at the sides. So she won some security: although whoever appeared, he could not understand what we are doing here. Then she straightened full length, but didn’t pull out the dresses, as a result of which she opened her legs above the knees, round and smooth, barely giving rise to the silk silk.

“Hurry,” Clare said.

As if under the lash of the lash, the girl tossed her thighs in front of us. Very white, in the fold of the petticoat perfectly matched the goal: she was easily picked up to the neck. The stitches were full and strong, any look. Above the modest lace border, the silk is silky, with a golden shade of white-gloss skin, intersected along with tight black garters.

- Above! - Clap steadily told.

Little Anne was continually looking at me, now frankly looking for a return glance ... Never before had she had such beautiful eyes, deep and heavy, full of fear and helplessness.

Her mouth was half open. Frequent breathing lifted the lips. Below the waist, her fawns, who were holding out the maternity of the dress, were far enough away from the friend to allow the gaze to enjoy the charming spectacle.

As I had suggested last evening, there were neither pantalon, nor any form of trisik on it. Only black lace belt. Short, golden hair in the groin was pocketed under a magnificent arch, bordered by a narrow edging. The very hill of Venera was a little dry, it was soft and eager - small, but sweet.

I again tried to meet my eyes with a young woman, but now her eyes were closed. She looked like a short lamb, resignedly awaiting his slaughter.

“Hy,” Claire told me, “how is she to you?” I replied that all this in my opinion looks very piquant. Especially attractive were black knuckles on sticks: gracefully intertwined vines with short knots.

Claire left the left pyky, in which she still held the flower, to the pubic curls and wound them with the tips of the petals. After that, she showed me a thin, greenish stalk that had ten centimeters in length.

- You see, we will insert it between the belt and the skin, right here, right next to the groin. Thorns hold flower.

“No,” I said. “The spikes are skinned, and the flower will fall as soon as it starts to go.”

“We'll see,” Clare answered.

She quickly examined the short stalk, on which there was only one spike and that y site itself. In addition to it, the stem covered small hairs, which Clare began to remove with nails, preparing:

“You see how kind I am: I pinch all the spikes so that you don’t pick at it.”

Suddenly turning to me, she said:

- But after all, it is true, I forgot, because it still needs to be punished ...

Her tone has at once become imperative, but her voice began to softer when she turned to her friend:

- Spread your legs and do not move. Now I will hurt you. Come to me.

Little Ann obeyed the order, but prayed in a half-whisper:

- No ... no ... no need ... I ask you ...

Claire took the stalk so that the flower hung down with its head and stuck a thorn thorn into the soft part of the thigh, from the inside, near the hill of Venera. The sacrifice repeated everything:

- No, you can not ... do not ...

... Clare chyt-chyt pressed a sharp spike under the skin. Ann plaintively cried out and curled her lower lip so as not to shut up in real life. Claire waited a few seconds, looking from the face of the girl to the place that should have been hurt, and vice versa, and then, with one movement, thrust the rose stalk and jerked it down. Thin skin was divided into three millimeters.

Anne uttered a shout of pain that emanated from the very head and took a step back. But even despite looking all over her body, she remained standing in front of us with a bare groin, a hard look and a mouth open.Claire, too, leaned back on the back of the chair, and now she was discussing her victim, and I read in her eyes not either hatred, not that — a terrible desire. Both women have been watching their friends for a long time without moving or saying a word. Ann, keeping her dress up, approached a mistress and took her starting position.

On the bare thigh formed dark-red byssinka blood. Claire, whose expression on her face began to soften again, leaned over without getting up from the chair, and kissed both girls with her. After that, she fingers ottyrula edge of the belt on the left thigh; another pykoy podnuyla stalk under the black material and spread on his thigh so that only the flower looked out from under the tulle cover. In order to secure it in this position, Claire could only turn the stem with a thorn on the edge: the sharp, prickled tip stuck in the ribs.

Clare again leaned back to consider her work at a distance. She nodded and looked like a connoisseur of art, evaluating the painting.

- Good, isn't it? - she turned to me and depicted on her face a limp.

From under the center arc of the laced belt, a rose hung down its head, pressed against the skin on the left and peering over the black matter and above the light hair triangle, part of which it noticeably ceased. One of the petals reached out even before the start of the thigh. Sprava, between the lower extremities of the treygolnik, where the hair became fluffy, and the black garter, along the flail skin, seemed to be about to roll the bloody drop.

I replied that the result was obviously not bad, although perhaps it was somewhat burdened with symbols in the best semantic and romantic style. Clap smile. Her face expressed complete peace.

Under the pretext of correcting some small change, she bowed down to her product.

However, she started to caress her rose in the same way as the girl did to her, touching the tips of the petals and sticking a finger into the middle. She was holding back at once. Obviously, it was just a game. On the back of the gorgeous finger, she lightly smoothed the short curls on the pubis.

“What a pity,” she remarked, “that we didn’t take a photo camera with us: a good picture in color would have been obtained.

She leaned even lower and gently sluggy with a bloody drop, ready to slip and blot.

Not far from us, voices were heard from the intersection of the tyyevymi kystami. Claire lifted her head and looked at her friend affectionately, what was new in her eyes. Women for some time were smiling friends.

The weather was excellent. Little Ann's golden hair shone in the sun. When Claire spoke, her voice sounded so soft that I had never revealed it before:

- You can dress down the dress. CHAPTER THREE: A CUP OF TEA AND WHAT FOLLOWS FOR HER Tea we drank in the pavilion of the park. Claire was joyful and talkative as a child. Even Ann cheerfully and earnestly supported the conversation. At the same time, I had the opportunity to discover that she was very unspoken. And this is in spite of the fact that we talked only about minor things: gardening, art, literature. Claire pushed me to tell me about the last literary falsification: she heard me talk about it at a party last evening. Both young women are very funny ...

Gradually, however, the feeling of lightness disappeared. Began to arise paizy. The expression of Claire's face became closed, as when we began to walk. Her features, right and almost frozen in their perfect beauty, suggested an idea of ​​a rejected goddess. I noticed that she was once again completely absorbed in her young companion, her daughter, her ...