You find your way to a cabana housing rows of extremely long beachwood tables, where hundreds of the festival attendees are already being served. Men with carts walk up and down the aisles, handing out paper plates of roasted pork and plastic cups of kava.
Rose and Whitney are here, with Vivian in between them. The two older are resting their hands on Vivian's inner thighs in a manner that certainly isn't chaste. They stroke her little legs languidly up and down, in sync. Vivian doesn't seem to be in distress over it. In fact she seems to rather enjoy the attention.
Ms. Carte plops down next to Whitney and you sit beside Rose. "Where are Mom and Cerise?" you ask.
"No idea on Cerise," Whitney says, leaning forward to catch your eye. "But Mommy dearest decided she wanted to help the dessert chefs herself. She should be out when dessert is served."
[ ] Go looking for her now.
[X] Wait for her here.
Whitney and Rose ply Vivian's legs. Vivian stares ahead, her eyes fogged over with a kind of low-level buzz from the groping.
"You're cute," Whitney says.
"I agree," Rose says. "I completely agree."
Even in her own still-dazed state, Ms. Carte can see that this interaction is a bit racy. She watches with interest, head lying on folded arms. She doesn't intervene.
"That swimsuit is cute," Whitney says.
"I agree," Rose says. "I completely agree."
"Your face is cute," Whitney says.
"I agree--"
"Um, excuse me," you say. "I hate to intrude, but this feels a little..."
"Oh, you're one to talk!" Whitney and Rose snap in unison.
You'd press the issue, but then:
"Please do not stop..." Vivian mumbles. "I... enjoy these sensations."
"Oh, you ARE cute," Rose says, practically squeaking with delight. Her and Whitney's movements become yet bolder still.
"You're a slut," Whitney says, whispering directly in Vivian's ear. Vivian lets out a shocked little "mmf" at this.
"Not that there's anything wrong with being a slut," Rose adds, whispering into her other ear. Vivian squirms.
"Because you're *our* slut," Whitney says.
"Does our slut want us to make her feel even better?" Rose asks.
Vivian, bright red and trembling, can only nod her head.
In unison, Whitney and Rose push their hands into Vivian's onepiece. The spandex is so tight and constrictive that you can see every line and curve of their fingers as they rub Vivian's crotch up and down.
"Mm," Vivian murmurs again.
"She's wet," Whitney reports.
"Dripping wet," Rose adds.
They nibble on Vivian's earlobes as they masturbate her and whisper obscenities into her ears that you can't quite make out.
"Slut..."
"...horny cunt..."
"...your little clit..."
"...until you pass out..."
"...meat toilet..."
"...whore..."
"...own you..."
"...whenever we want..."
Vivian writhes and suppresses her moans under this barrage of sexual violation. As demure as she usually is, she can hardly contain herself.
Vivian's jaw hangs open, her tongue drooling freely in her mouth, saliva trickling down her chin. Whitney and Rose kiss her up and down her neck and cheeks.
"I'm going to climaxshh," Vivian slurs.
"Darling," Rose says. "Darling, darling. Cum for your big sisters." She pushes Vivian's face against her cowtits, briefly suffocating her.
"Ah- ahhnn--" Vivian sighs.
"That's it," Whitney says. "Right here in front of everyone. Cum!"
Vivian's eyes roll to the back of her skull and she falls backward. With perfect timing, Rose and Whitney dart their free hands back to catch her, never for a second letting up on the vicious molestation.
"You're not getting away that easily," Rose says.
"You're not done cumming until we say you are!" Whitney says.
The girls' hands clench underneath Vivian's swimsuit, rubbing orgasm after orgasm from the exhausted little girl. The two are merciless and they work in perfect tandem, like two halves of one sick mind. Vivian never stood a chance. She goes limp and half-unresponsive, the only clue that she's still conscious being the little groans and sighs of her rolling, never-ending orgasm.
"Dyke bitch," Whitney says.
"You're addicted to cumming, aren't you?" Rose asks.
"Yessh... addicted... I love cumming-- I love cumming--"
She rolls her head side to side, repeating herself like a broken record. You can hardly believe no one else nearby is paying attention to this scene, but that's certainly for the best. Ms. Carte pushes her thighs together and apart, her eyes glued to the lascivious action before her.
A man with a cart of food rolls by, the wheels squealing, the tin exterior clattering. Rose and Whitney see it approach. Taking the cue to end it, they withdraw their hands from Vivian's swimsuit. The poor little cum-addled girl lurches forward and collapses against the tabletop.
"Cum... cum..." she repeats, her eyes distant-looking. Whitney and Rose pet her hair, and it feels like two lions gloating over a felled gazelle.
---
Whitney and Rose devour their helpings of roast pork and taro, tearing at the food with their bare fingers like animals, washing it down with gallons of kava. Ms. Carte merely picks at her serving. And poor Vivian is still too much of a mess to eat at all. She lies slumped against the table, drooling.
"I think we fingerbanged her retarded," Whitney says between bites.
"Oh, she'll be fine," Rose says. She prods Vivian's shoulder and receives no intelligible response but the word "cum" slurred over again.
"...She'll be fine, *probably*," Rose qualifies.