--------------------------------------------------------------- Visit me at: http://home.earthlink.net/~roller666/index.html --------------------------------------------------------------- _/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/ Andrew Roller Presents NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS in BORDELLO GIRLS _/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/ 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 ----------------------- Dreamgirls! ----------------------- -----Back issues (and stories): http://www.dejanews.com/ Click on ÒPower SearchÓ in the middle of the screen. Change ÒstandardÓ archive to ÒcompleteÓ archive. Type: roller666@earthlink.net into the ÒPower SearchÓ box. Click on ÒFindÓ (the button to the right of the box). -----Other providers: Usenet Newsgroup: alt.sex.stories.moderated Or via the Web: http://www.eroticstories.com http://www.netusa.net/~eli/erotica/assm/ -----Great books by David Hamilton: The Age of Innocence, A Place in the Sun, Twenty Five Years of an Artist. By Jock Sturges: Radiant Identities Need a book? http://www.amazon.com -----Great sites: http://www.nambla.org http://www.AlessandraSmile.com -Naughty Naked Dreamgirls (Library of Congress ISSN: 1070-1427) is copyright 1998 and a trademark of Andrew Roller. Work by others copyright 1998 by the respective copyright holder. -END OF story EMISSION