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                                  Andrew Roller Presents
                              NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
                                                 in 
                                      BORDELLO GIRLS

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                                         Chapter Five

         ÒDo not play with yourself, Melissa,Ó Master said quietly.  We sat 
with tear-stained faces in a large mahogany dining room.  Our bare 
bottoms rested uncomfortably on cushions of fine woven satin.  My 
wetness between my legs, upon my asshole, would surely stain my 
cushion, I knew.  But master seemed not to mind.  Nor did the owner of the 
club in whose care we were now placed, and who would surely bill master 
for the re-upholstery of the chair.  
         We were in Club Dare, a private club, for swingers only, and only 
couples at that, though the combination, the age, and the sex didnÕt matter.  
A women, Alison whispered, had once managed to get in with her 
dachshund.  We sat in its main dining room, in complete privacy, save for 
the inquiring glances of other diners.  MasterÕs limo had brought us.  WeÕd 
been wrapped in fur for the journey, then undressed before being seated.  
All around us sat others, mostly well dressed, for the night was still 
young.  WeÕd been at our partying early.
         I glanced at the clock.  It was a big grandfatherÕs clock, with a 
pendulum, that sat nestled in a shadowed corner, ticking away our lives.  
It looked like it dated from the eighteenth century, it was so old, with 
little nicks in it here and there along its well-polished wood.
         ÒA clock Napoleon once owned,Ó master said, following my gaze.  
ÒMelissa, can you tell time yet?Ó
         ÒOf course!Ó Melissa answered.  She was sulky.  She had not been 
rodded as I had been.  Nor had Alison.  They were restless.  We all squirmed 
for one reason or another, Steve, dressed like master in a tuxedo, though a 
less expensive one; myself and Alison and Melissa as naked as babes, our 
breasts rubbing the tablecloth whenever we bent down to suck up an 
especially large knot of spaghetti.
         ÒWhat time is it?Ó Master asked Melissa.
         ÒMidnight, stupid,Ó Melissa replied.  He frowned at her.  She stuck 
out her tongue at him.  
         ÒDo you like your spaghetti?Ó Master asked her.  
         ÒNo,Ó Melissa replied, but sucked lustily upon a string of the pasta 
all the same, twirling her fork as she lifted it high above her face.  I 
watched as her breasts jostled pleasantly on her chest.
         We were in public, quite naked, and yet obedient.  Even Melissa 
remained obedient, despite her displeasure at being left out of my fun.  I 
did not know if she even knew what she wished for, whether she was 
virgin or not, but clearly she wanted to pretend she desired a cock.  She 
slurped in her string of spaghetti and licked her lips, eyed Steve, master.  
ÒHow come we are the only ones who have to be naked?Ó Melissa asked.  
Her voice was high-pitched, childlike.
         ÒBecause you are the loved,Ó Alison answered, her head bowed 
slightly, eating quietly.
         The other diners watched us with dancing eyes.  We were an 
inspiration to them.  We had gone where they had yet to go, tonight.  We 
blazed a path so that they might follow.  I felt their eyes upon me.  I knew 
they would not help me if I tried to escape.  Master had discreetly chained 
us each to the other by our right wrists.  HeÕd put a bracelet round mine, 
AlisonÕs MelissaÕs right wrist, than run a chain through it, small, fine-
linked, but strong.  Passersby on the sidewalk barely noticed, if it all, as 
weÕd entered Club Dare.  Inside, stripped of our coats, our subservience 
was more obvious.  We would all have to go the potty together, when the 
time came.  That would be an even greater spectacle, the three of us 
walking to the womenÕs bathroom, chained together, inseparable even 
when performing our toilet.
         The waitress came.  She was veiled in silk for modesty, her face 
half-hidden, though I saw her smiling within.  She was naked beneath her 
headdress, anonymous, an encouragement to all to partake of whatever 
liberties they wished.  Master pinched her bottom when she refilled his 
glass.  She jerked, nearly spilling some wine upon the tablecloth.
         ÒYou are lucky,Ó Master told her.  ÒThe wine is expensive.Ó
         ÒYes, sir,Ó she answered, taken aback by his forwardness but still 
performing precisely, the very best of stewards.  She replaced the wine in 
its ice bucket.  As she turned I saw others had pinched her heinie, there 
were red marks upon it.  I wondered after her.  Was she a college girl, 
doing this at night for the money?  Certainly it must pay very well, for 
she had no stockings to put loose bills into.  She must be paid at the end of 
the evening, I guessed, by the manager.  Perhaps a word or two added a tip 
to the bill, allowed the patron to charge his satisfaction with her to Visa, 
or American Express.  Or perhaps she was just like us, a prisoner, 
kidnapped.  I vowed to get a word with her if chance provided.  Perhaps she 
would help me escape.  But I would have to take Melissa with me.  I felt 
responsible for her.
         ÒI want dessert!Ó Melissa pouted.  She was dueling with master 
again.
         ÒGet under the table, Melissa,Ó Alison said.  The girl looked 
quizzically at her.  Alison was wholly in the power of master.  She might 
not stop us from escaping, but she wouldnÕt help us.  She needed our 
bottoms to give master other targets for his belt.
         ÒThere isnÕt any desert under the table!Ó Melissa protested.  She was 
falling more and more into their grasp with every passing hour, I saw.  She 
was an unfucked virgin, or one who acted like it, and she was bent on 
getting a penis up her.  Then she would flee home and report her paramour 
to mommy, to the police, just for the joy of seeing her lover squirm.  
Master kicked her shin and she let out a feeble Òouch!Ó
         ÒUnder the table,Ó master ordered her.  I saw MelissaÕs eyes light up, 
and knew what idea had struck her.  Under the table she could frig herself.  
Eagerly she slipped from her chair.
         ÒThere are two honeypots and two long-stemmed straws of cream 
under the table, Melissa,Ó Alison told her fast-disappearing form.  ÒI 
expect you to eat all of them, since you had no desire at all for your peas.Ó
         ÒI hate peas,Ó Melissa answered.  Her voice muffled as she slipped to 
her knees under the tablecloth.  I felt soft hands and small fingers come to 
my knees.  They were opened.  Hot breath wafted against my thigh.
         ÒMelissa!Ó I cried.  I was trying to plan our escape.  DidnÕt she know 
that?  What was she doing pleasuring me?  ÒAck!Ó  Her tongue upon me.  
She should distract the others, not me!  And then I heard it:  soft moaning.  
Melissa was masturbating her little clit even as she put her tongue to 
mine.  I squirmed in my chair.  The touch of the silk hurt my bottom as I 
shifted upon it.  But my quim felt delicious.  Too delicious.
         ÒAhhhh!  Ahhhh!Ó  I moaned aloud.  The other patrons turned, watched 
me with glee.  Melissa moaned below the tablecloth, touching herself and 
crying out as she made me do the same.
         Our waitress brough dessert.  Cream-filled cake for all of us.  I 
could not eat.  My face was uplifted, my mouth open, my breath hot and 
loving.  ÒAhhhhh!Ó I cried the female cry of pleasure.  Alison, leaning over 
toward me, cut a piece of my cake for me and lifted it to my lips.  I bit 
into it.  She forced in the entire piece.  The waitress, having served the 
others, returned to me and helped me part my lips to receive another piece 
of the cake.
         I heard zippers unzipping at other tables, at our own.  Quietly men 
throughout the restaurant began to frig themselves, alone or with the help 
of their girlfriend.  Waitresses, quick to respond, veiled as our own was, 
passed out condoms to receive the menÕs sperm.
         ÒYou must put it on, sir, if youÕre going to take your cock out,Ó I 
heard one waitress say to the man in her care.
         ÒBut I donÕt need it,Ó he replied.  ÒIÕm only going to fuck my wife, 
and not now, later, at home.Ó
         ÒYes, but you might spill on our carpet and stain it,Ó the waitress 
replied.  My manager doesnÕt mind paying for the the occasional seat, if 
you wish to sit bare assed, but he doesnÕt want to lay down a whole new 
carpet, or charge you for it, either.Ó
         My own master, Lord Algonquin, seemed similarly constrained by 
financial necessity.  He accepted a condom from a second waitress, our 
first being playfully engaged with me.
         ÒDastardly thing, isnÕt it?Ó Lord Algonquin said to our impromptu 
waitress.  ÒTakes all the fun out of it, its so clean, so thorough, so 
clinical.Ó
         ÒWould you like me to help you fit into it, sir?Ó the waitress asked 
helpfully.  
         ÒYes,Ó Lord Algonquin replied.  ÒKneel down and do it with your 
teeth, if I must have one on.Ó
         ÒYou must, sir, house rules,Ó the waitress replied.  ÒYou can strip 
naked if you wish, but you must always have a condom over your cock when 
it is exposed.Ó 
         With rude efficiency the waitress turned Lord Algonquin in his chair, 
so that he faced her.  Our chairs had no arms.  The backs were open so that 
our bottoms could be seen.  Like a nurse, the waitress undid masterÕs 
trousers, wresting his cock completely from his underpants, forcing him 
to sit bare assed upon the chair.  ÒThatÕs good,Ó she cooed, obviously 
impressed with his cock and how it stood up like a fine young pine tree.  
He may have been old, at least twice my age, but his cock stood out as 
strong and potent as a yule log in a loverÕs fireplace at Christmas.  The 
waitress fitted Lord Algonquin with an extra-large condom.  She had to 
stretch it to get it over him.  She licked his thing first, to make it more 
wet and receptive.  Then she started the condom with her teeth, but soon 
gave up and found she had to switch to her fingers.  He was simply too big 
for cock and tongue games.  The condom had to be pulled, stretched, and 
finally yanked down his shaft to make it fit.  She kissed his properly 
sheathed cock when she was done, right on the head.  Then she moved on to 
Steve.  ÒOh, my, not another gigantic cock!Ó I heard her exclaim as she met 
SteveÕs member.  I had large lovers.
         Alison fed me more cake, kissing me between mouthfuls.  She 
whispered sweet blandishments to me.  ÒCome, darling, let her taste your 
sweet honey,Ó Alison cooed.  The waitress echoed her words.  I cried 
plaintively, not wanting to spend in front of all these people.  My womb 
must remain private, not a source of public amusement!
         It was no use.  With cocks everywhere, with the waitress and Alison 
urging me on, with dear Melissa striving for her own under the table even 
as she licked me, I orgasmed.  I heard a soft shriek from Melissa between 
my legs.  She was climaxing too!  We mewled like passionate kittens as 
our cries rent the air.  We climaxed together.  We rode wave after wave of 
bliss, her hand busy between her thighs as her tongue flicked my bud.  
Unrepentant lesbians, hedonists beyond restraint, we tossed and turned 
upon a sea of bliss.  At last we glided slowly back to earth, still together, 
she still licking me from under the table, I still in my chair.
         ÒVery good, Melissa,Ó Lord Algonquin congratulated her.  He lifted 
the tablecloth and spoke to her.  ÒNow go on to Alison.Ó
         ÒWork!  Work!  Work!Ó Melissa grouched.  She brushed back her hair 
and crawled over to our mistress.  Alison shifted her bottom forward on 
her chair and helpfully spread her legs.
         ÒStick it right up, dear!Ó Alison commanded cheerfully.  ÒIÕll make a 
boy of you yet.Ó  She laughed.  Melissa grunted and parted AlisonÕs pussy 
lips, sought her bud with her tongue.  The men, watching, flexed their 
cocks in anticipation.  Poor Steven!  How he would have loved to fuck 
Alison!  He had yet to release his spermy emissions, despite spending 
hours in our company.  All around him young females were climaxing while 
he himself was forced to sit still.  His balls, most uncomfortably full, 
bulged between his thighs like overripe fruit.  His cock, upstanding, sought 
to spurt in any direction it could, even into the air.  Thankfully his condom 
protected us from being showered by his seed, should he lose control.  
         Alison felt MelissaÕs tongue up her and moaned.  ÒYes, but deeper!  
You can do it!Ó Alison urged.  She looked lovingly down at little Melissa 
and put a hand to the girlÕs head, stroking her hair.  ÒThink of yourself as a 
boy,Ó she encouraged.  ÒGet right up me like he would.  Make me pregnant 
with your tongue.Ó  I helped Melissa, fidgeting with AlisonÕs nearest 
nipple.  With my other arm I circled the waitressÕs waist and began 
titillating her clit.  She touched my own wet bud, offering me a second 
round of pleasure.  The men watched, eager-eyed, the waitress doing me 
while I did her, Melissa doing Alison.  Soon we were all within the grasp 
of pleasure again, bleating like lambs, encouraging one another as we 
strove nakedly to attain our own desire.
         I got up at last from the table.  I felt awkward, unsure.  I brushed my 
hair back out of my eyes in an attempt to regain my composure.  I licked 
my lips.  A delicious meal.  Honey bedewed my boldly naked bush.  I brushed 
it lightly.  It was my little mound of fur, between my long, sleek thighs.  I 
moved and felt my succulent hole between my legs.  There was nothing, 
absolutely nothing, between my private place and all the men around me 
with their business-like tuxes and their penises.  I walked as 
unselfconsciously as I could.  I had to go to the bathroom.  I could cum in 
my chair, I knew, but peeing in it would be looked on most unfavorably.  At 
least I supposed so.  I did not need any more embarrassing disclosures of 
myself this evening.
         I walked past the diners.  From the waist up, most of them looked as 
respectable as ever.  Some continued to eat, though they had quietly 
dropped a hand from the table.  Others masturbated more openly.  Their 
chairs were pushed back, the womanÕs dress hiked up to show her thighs, 
the manÕs pants at his ankles, or just his fly open, revealing a fine cock 
within a protective sheath.  The women could spill their honey freely, I 
saw, but the men had to spurt into a condom.  I realized then the name of 
the club, Club Dare.  Our table was the Dare Table, where the couple 
sitting at it would perform sexually for all the other diners.  A kind of 
private sex show, featuring girl/girl sex while men watched and jacked.  
Glancing over my shoulder I saw that Steve and Lord Algonquin still held 
their seed, waiting, watching, but unable to participate in the shuddering 
climaxes of my girlfriends.  Melissa, upon the table now instead of under 
it, was faring no better than before.  The waitress was clasping her 
wrists as Alison playfully took Lord AlgonquinÕs belt from him.  He gave 
her ass a slap, then let her pull his belt off.  All the while he pleasantly 
rubbed his big cock with his hand.  Steve too, no longer shy, was fisting 
his cock with a greedy hand.  His face looked haggard.  He was desperate to 
cum, yet still held out the hope that he might be invited to fuck a female.  
I wished he would just grab one.  But he could not.  Though he was young 
and strong, he was no match for Lord Algonquin.  Steve was a sex slave, 
just as we were, with a penis instead of a pussy.  He would cum when 
master permitted it, and in the manner master ordered.  Would master 
punish him if he shot off too soon?  I guessed so, but Steve couldnÕt help 
himself, watching Melissa.  Alison gave the girl a stinging salute on her 
bottom with masterÕs belt and she mewled like a kicked kitten.
         I felt the rolling of my hips, my bottom cheeks, thrusting girlishly, 
invitingly behind me.  My derriere.  My heinie.  Sweet whip marks were 
fading there now, almost gone.  Would someone want to kiss me there 
again, a new man with a new belt?
         A redhead watched me pass.  Her hair was dark, cinnamon colored.  
Perhaps she was a daughter of Conan, I guessed, from some far off land 
with a similar name.  She would capture me and take me away with her.  I 
watched her rise, her hand at her puss, rubbing herself gently.  She 
remembered herself and desisted.  She followed me as I crossed the room.  
I passed a telephone on a small table, slipped into the ladies room, a door 
in a shadowed alcove.  All was discreet here, save for what the patrons 
did.  
         I opened a lavender door, stepped into my choice of stalls.  I turned, 
considered a moment, chose not to latch the door.  I was wicked.  I knew I 
was being incredibly naughty and I could not help myself.  All my life IÕd 
been an innocent schoolgirl, a child, and suddenly IÕd been transformed 
into a temptress overnight.  I sat down on the potty and put my elbows on 
my long thighs, let my chin fall onto clasped, upraised hands.
         ÒI pee, therefore I am,Ó I murmured, suddenly disconsolate.
         The redhead slipped into my stall.  Silently, like a cat.  IÕd heard her 
pumps on the tiled floor but hadnÕt guessed sheÕd be so...so daring?
         ÒI cum, therefore I am, or so a man once told me,Ó the redhead 
replied.  I looked up.  Pouting, I met her eyes.  The sound of my peeing 
continued.  
         ÒIÕm a slut,Ó I said to her, frankly.
         ÒWe all are, darling, every woman in the world, except old maids,Ó 
she replied.  She reached out her hands.  There was understanding in her 
eyes.  ÒSit up,Ó she said.  A command.  I liked commands, orders.  They 
relieved me of any responsibility.  She cupped the undersides of my 
breasts and weighed them.  I felt like a cow, having its udders appraised 
at a farm show.  ÒYou are so young.  Have you any money?Ó
         I shook my head.  Her breasts were beautiful, like ripe fruit in an 
orchard, her lissome form the swaying tree that bore them, grew them.  
Each year they grew fuller as she grew from sapling to full-fledged 
woman.  I leaned forward and lightly kissed a nipple, then the other.  I was 
impulsive.  I wanted someone to care for me, to coax me, to spoil me.  I did 
not want to go home to my parents and a life of enforced teenage chastity.  
         ÒYou were very enjoyable to watch tonight,Ó she smiled at me.  
ÒVery entertaining.Ó  There was a smirk on her lips, a hint of irony.  ÒHow 
much did your males pay you to perform for them?Ó
         ÒM-My?Ó  There was unknowing in my eyes.  ÒYou mean Lord 
Algonquin?Ó
         ÒAh--Ó her breath caught in her throat.  ÒThat old bastard.  I must 
get you away from him.  Has he pierced you yet, anywhere?Ó  Her eyes 
seemed to plead.  I shook my head Ôno.Õ
         ÒI just met him tonight,Ó I replied.  ÒHe gave me a lovely fur coat.Ó
         ÒHe always wraps his little girls in fur coats,Ó the redhead replied 
dismissively.  ÒThen he has them unwrap their furry little mounts in 
public, for all to see.  YouÕll be lucky to get the coat back, I assure you.Ó
         ÒWhat?Ó I asked.  In the distance I could hear Melissa paying for her 
new fur coat with stinging stripes of leather across her bottom.  ÒWe had 
thought they were ours to keep.  To take home with us,Ó I said aloud.  My 
voice pleaded as MelissaÕs did, under the belt, begging to be let up, her 
bottom hurting, totally ignored by everyone, yet all eyes watching her 
wriggling ass with great satisfaction.
         ÒStand,Ó the redhead command me.  I still did not know her name.  I 
raised myself up off the potty, stood as one might for a teacher.  She slid 
her hand over my bottom, explored my crack, squeezed my cheeks.  In front 
her other hand checked the tightness of my pouch.  ÒYes, you will do,Ó she 
told herself.  I was but an object.  There were no talent competitions in 
this pageant, just the weight of my boobs, the firmness of my buns, the 
tightness of my lower lips.
         ÒYou are adventurous, but he fed you,Ó she whispered.  A confession 
from somebody that IÕd been drugged, induced, solicited without my 
knowledge.  ÒStill, you have spirit.  Would you like to work for me?Ó
         I confess I had no knowledge of what she was asking.  I gazed at her, 
enjoying her exploring fingers in my bush, wishing I could press mine to 
hers.  ÒDoing what?Ó I asked.  She laughed.  She kissed me then, her hand 
still between my thighs.  ÒLet me train you darling, you will do well.  And 
be well paid, too.  You will not have to hang around with a freeloader like 
Lord Algonquin.  He had not been in these parts for many years, but I 
remember his name.  He cheated my mother, when he was young.  Now she 
is dead by her own hand and I have inherited her whorehouse.  I need girls, 
though, young girls.Ó  She looked down at her own beautiful form.  ÒWell, I 
am young too, just nineteen, but you are the forbidden fruit.  Men will like 
that.  Momma always said to underpromise, and overdeliver.  Hmmm?  What 
would they think if I invited them in and then introduced them to you?  
They would not expect that.  No, they would not.Ó  She answered herself.  
As we stood there, belly button to belly button, she seemed introspective.  
I am naked in a toilet stall, therefore I am...who?
         ÒRose,Ó she said at last, raising her chin.  She was slightly taller 
than me.  Her demeanor was regal, though, commanding.  ÒWe shall need 
your friend too.  The men will trip out when I show them two underage 
girls.  They will cum twice as hard, asking no questions.  Then we can all 
sip liquor with them, hummm?  All of us underaged.Ó
         ÒSuch men are perverts,Ó I replied.  I was moody again.  In the 
distance Melissa was crying.  Her sobs were loud but nobody heard them.  
They were mesmerized by her bottom.
         ÒDo you think I can steal two prize females out from under the nose 
of Lord Algonquin?Ó Rose asked me.  Her eyes were bright.  
         ÒI am naked,Ó I replied.  ÒYou were--Ó
         ÒClothed?Ó she smiled.  ÒMy clothing, I stripped it off just inside the 
bathroom door.  I planned to make love to you, both of us peeing, but you 
started before I arrived.Ó
         ÒIÕm sorry,Ó I replied.  I did not know why I apologized, save that she 
seemed so nice, so caring.  She understood me in ways I could not even 
imagine.
         ÒBut we can outwit Lord Algonquin.  Let me pee first,Ó Rose said.  
How silly it was, the two of us trading places.  I held her hands aloft as 
she sat on the potty.  She released her pee then, smiling up at me as she 
did so.  ÒThrust your bush at me,Ó she said.  ÒIt has not been wiped.Ó  She 
was right.  I thought perhaps she would take toilet paper, but how could 
she?  I still held both her hands.  I stuck my most private place out at her, 
my bush uncombed, sweetly naive.  She extended her tongue and wiped me 
with it.  I felt the wetness of her saliva replacing my last clinging drops 
of urine.
         When she took away her tongue I was sad.  I had not spent yet.  I 
wanted to do it right on her squirming, squelchy tongue.  She would dip and 
find honey within me.
         ÒNot now,Ó Rose smiled.  ÒWe will get to know each other very well, 
very intimately, I assure you.Ó  She said.  ÒMen like that.Ó  She rose up 
from the potty and neglected to wipe herself.  Time was of the essence.  
She bustled me out of the stall ahead of herself.  Like Amazons we crossed 
the tiled floor, exited, I unknowing, she firm, resolved.  I saw her hand go 
to a switch on the wall.  A fire alarm switch.  ÒHit the lights!Ó Rose 
hissed to me.  I gazed back at her, wonderingly.  She nodded, I followed her 
gaze.  A light switch was near me, too far for her to reach.  
         Rose yanked on the fire alarm.  At the same time I turned out the 
lights.

30

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