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Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
BOTTOMS IN BONDAGE
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Chapter Four
ÒYou must eat now, girls,Ó Mistress said. ÒBut before you do I want
you to see where youÕll go potty. Number one, of course, can be done into
any convenient receptacle, perhaps into a naughty girlÕs mouth who
complains too much,Ó Sandra said, giving Linda a significant glance. ÒBut
for number two we have a special place. Come!Ó
ÒOh! I shall be glad to see it,Ó Linda prattled to Rose. ÒThat honey
makes we want to poop right now!Ó In stately procession we followed
Sandra out into the garden, still looking awesome in our boots and gloves
and other finery, despite the erotic torments weÕd already endured. The
men followed eagerly, Snoop Doggy Dogs all, their snouts eager to probe
our shitholes.
With clenching bottoms we stood in the brightly lit garden. I
imagined it was bright as day out here. And, no doubt, a police helicopter
might come by anytime, though whether they would think they saw me
would be another matter entirely. TheyÕd see a wealthy womanÕs garden,
enclosed from all but the sun and peeping toms, and adults at play. A sight
to behold, surely, but not a place to go looking for underage girls. Just to
violate the sanctity of the garden would probably roust O.J.-calibre
lawyers.
And there, sitting nonchalantly before us, was what Sandra now
described as Òour potty.Ó Sitting out in the open, for any bird, perhaps, to
use also. It was a simple white chair, with a seat of horizontal wood
slats. With wooden arms, and a wooden back.
ÒYou will sit facing the back of the chair, of course,Ó Sandra said.
ÒPut your legs through the arms of the chair. And then poop out, your ass
sticking off the end of the chair. Your shit will plop into the reflecting
pool.Ó Sandra bent down daintily, looking smashing in her party dress even
as she described such a lewd, base act. She slid back a cover and there,
sparkling in the light, was a deep reflecting pool about two feet across,
with tropical fish swimming in it. ÒItÕs deep as a well, and your turds
will float to the bottom and fertilize the lush plants growing there,Ó
Sandra said. ÒDonÕt worry any about the fish. ItÕs rather fun, actually, to
see if you can bop one of them with a turd. But you canÕt pollute the
water. The wellÕs too deep for that, and my husband and I only use this for
parties. ItÕs a party potty.Ó
A party potty?! IÕd never heard of such a horrid thing! Defecating
outside, in the bright sunshine, where any enquiring neighbor boy might be
peeping in with his face hidden in the hedgerows that towered about? It
was a protected garden, yes, with encircling walls made of brick and
mortar, and hedges rising above even them, but high school boys were
known for overcoming such obstacles! Even a few men, perhaps, might be
watching us now, even photographing us! Secretly I wished they might be,
so that the police might come and rescue me. Yet, to have pictures of me
passed around, or shown on T.V., pooping in a backyard garden?
Alas! I felt my own bowels tremble. Surely I did not have to go
potty just yet? CouldnÕt I hold it? Please, God, let me not go again until I
was safely home!
Behind us a man lifted a metal cover from a grill. I turned, smelling
hot dogs. The man, LindaÕs husband it was, I think, speared a hotdog and
dropped it into -- No!
Near the grill, arrayed before a splendid low wall where poinsettias
grew, were five doggie bowls. Each one had a name painted on it. I saw
mine there: Lisa. Before the bowls, covering the rough concrete of the
backyard patio where we stood, was a downy-soft beach towel. There
were several in fact, one on top of another in layers, to protect the knees
of doggies who might kneel before the bowls to feed in them.
And now, with great relish, LindaÕs husband plunked two hotdogs into
each bowl. ÒLisa, do you prefer mustard on yours, or ketchup?Ó he asked
me first, though my bowl was near the middle, flanked on either side by
others. Perhaps it was because he had a special claim on me, I thought.
ÒI-I like mine plain,Ó I answered, not knowing how to, wishing only
to be rid of the ghastly thought of kneeling like a hungry doggie before all
these lusty men.
ÒAnd you, Kitty?Ó
ÒPut lots of relish on mine,Ó Kitty replied. She was calm, self-
possessed. She seemed unfazed by the thought of rudely displaying her
hiney, eating in a bowl like a dog. She seemed almost delighted by it. I
trembled.
ÒLinda?Ó
ÒPut lots of ONIONS on mine!Ó Linda blurted.
ÒNo, darling, for that would give you bad breath, and no one would
want to kiss you then,Ó Sandra laughed, seeing through the girlÕs ruse. The
men chuckled. Ah, what fun it would be to finally fuck this young filly, I
saw them thinking. Poor Linda was only ensuring sheÕd get fucked all the
harder, violated all the more thoroughly, by her querulousness. Even men
as handsome as these had been turned down by girls, forced to put up with
the mind games girls liked to play. But not tonight. This would be their
night of revenge. They were playing out Linda, not vice versa. Let her
quibble and invent excuses. Let her pretend to wash her hair. There was
no escape from here, and her hiney and other charms were already bare.
The men only grew harder knowing how delicious it would be to finally
bring Linda to heel. And the hardness that she inspired in them made their
cock rings all the more agonizing. She was tormenting them with her
querulousness, and she would pay for it.
But not yet! Such was the delight of the game. These were
experienced adult men, not randy boys dying to get off. And Sandra and
Kitty were well-trained in adult ways. Things must be held back, delayed,
toyed with, like cocks caught in a ring, or pussies artificially honeyed.
ÒCome, girls, itÕs time for your din-din,Ó Sandra invited, pointing to
the bowls.
ÒNo!Ó Linda cried suddenly. She was young, vigorous. SheÕd played
soccer when sheÕd been nine, running across the field with her pigtails
flying. She dashed for the living room. But suddenly she darted away from
that direction, for some wicked man had slid a glass door shut across the
entrance. We were trapped, out in the garden, ÒprotectedÓ from all save
the men who wished to impregnate us.
Ah, silly thing! As Linda ran her pretty bonnet made to fly off and,
instinctively perhaps, she clutched at it, kept it properly on her head. A
man chased her, still gallant in his tux, laughingly. He ran with half his
strength. He liked seeing her flee, liked the wobble of her bottom and the
foolish bouncing of her breasts.
And then the rest of the girls were running, and myself also! They
would have to catch us, yes! We would not submit so easily. I ran, holding
gracefully onto my my own hat also, and Rose too held her pretty hat,
valuing it I think more than the virginity she was soon to surrender.
A man grabbed me by my mane, my betraying locks streaming out
behind me. I was forced to stop but, turning around, I caused him to let go
of my hair. In retaliation I grabbed at his dick. There was no missing it.
It was too big and swollen for that. ÒAh!Ó he cried. I squeezed him hard.
ÒYou will make me cum, and I will make you pay doubly for that!Ó It was
LindaÕs husband. I saw the steel in his eyes. There was no getting away
from his threat. I loosed him, but ran again, him watching me a moment,
gazing at my wriggly nude hiney, savoring the jiggle of white assflesh. I
turned, caught his eye, would he follow me? Did I want him too? He leapt
forward. I screamed, ran again, lost my hat this time.
I returned to the courtyardÕs center. Walking now, my hair mussed,
my body held tightly by LindaÕs husband. HeÕd caught me, claimed me at
last. Most of the other girls were already there. Like me, their lipstick
was smeared. I turned my face up to my stolen husband again, he kissed
me again, long and deep. WeÕd sat on a rough stone wall, fronting daisies,
my bare bottom right on the brickwork, unprotected, kissing each other,
our hands lightly exploring. A touch of romance amidst all the
bittersweet torments.
LindaÕs husband and I rejoined the others. I glanced at my own
master, guiltily. But he held Rose. She and I would know each other
intimately this night, I knew. Two virgins, shared by men not their
husbands, while their wives were fucked by others in adjoining rooms. Or
in the same room. Perhaps in the garden. We would take our pleasure
where we found it before the night was over, I guessed.
ÒYou will eat from the bowl,Ó LindaÕs husband said to me.
ÒYes, sir,Ó I replied quietly.
ÒCome, girls,Ó Sandra invited us. The rest of the girls were back
now. We walked, four abreast, nude bosoms jiggling like jello with our
nervousness, to the edge of the blanket. We knelt, four girls about to be
dogs. Forward we crawled on hands and knees to the waiting dishes.
Sandra stepped forward, stood over us. ÒDo not use your hands,Ó Sandra
warned us. ÒEat as dogs do. Lift the hotdogs with your tongues. Use your
mouths only.Ó She knelt then, too, with Linda on one side of her and
myself on the other. She placed a hand on each of our backs. She urged us
down, lightly but firmly. On the outside flanks Kitty, wise beyond her
years, and Rose, too innocent to know, bent to their meals. Linda and I,
flinching, needed SandraÕs tutelage. With her hands running up through our
glorious hair she pushed our heads into our bowls. ÒEat,Ó she repeated.
ÒFill your bellies.Ó
We ate then, four female dogs, presenting our bottoms brazenly for
mating even as we nourished the wombs inside which offspring might
grow. I had trouble getting the hot dog into my mouth, like taking my first
cock. Finally I got it up and bit into it. I swallowed. I lifted my head,
wanting to ask for ketchup. Sandra pushed it back down. LindaÕs husband
swaggered over, stepping in front of me. I glanced up and saw his organ,
directed down at my head, my bowl. ÒEat it all just as it is or IÕll add
something to it,Ó he promised, and gulping, I saw his meaning. He wanted
to pee into my bowl! Sandra did not need to use her hand again. I plunged
my face into my bowl, careless of my makeup. I forced myself to eat the
hotdogs completely, thoroughly, every last morsel. When I was done I
licked my bowl clean to make sure there was nothing left to be Òadded toÓ
by LindaÕs husband.
ÒUp, girls!Ó Sandra called. We stood. Gratefully we stood, getting
our bare bottoms back underneath us, though they still stuck out fretfully
far, pert and quite invitingly bare. A man passed her a bottle and she
ordered us to open our mouths.
Sandra poured the contents of the bottle into a silver tablespoon.
ÒNothing like a bit of castor oil to get a girlÕs young bottom properly
pooping, is there?Ó Sandra smiled. We did not share her smile.
ÒEw, yuck!Ó Linda wailed, being the first to taste the awful
medicine. SheÕd slipped round Rose, perhaps thinking to escape again, but
it had only put her first in line for the next ordeal.
ÒOne more,Ó Sandra insisted, making her take a second tablespoonful.
LindaÕs eyes bulged as the medicine was forced down her throat. ÒMmm,
makes your tummy feel warm, doesnÕt it?Ó Sandra asked.
ÒWarm and tingly,Ó Linda replied, rubbing her belly like some foolish
child, her mouth still making faces from the taste of the oil.
ÒAnd now you, Rose dear, so quiet and cute.Ó Rose obediently opened
her mouth and received the fluid. A doe taking food from Sleeping Beauty.
Each of us in turn received our medicinal tribute. We found
ourselves all rubbing our bellies. It warmed them unusually and made
them sparkle. I knew the feeling would travel lower soon, and grow
uneasy.
ÒOhhhh! I have to go potty!Ó Linda blurted as the last of us took the
fluid.
ÒYou know where it is, dear, right over there,Ó Sandra said, then
thought better of letting the girl go as she pleased and caught her arm.
ÒCome, I shall take you, Miss Fussbudget, to make sure you do it properly.Ó
ÒOh, I donÕt want to use the potty!Ó Linda cried. She seemed a two-
year-old now, intent on avoiding toilet training.
ÒYes, you must,Ó Sandra said. She guided the girl to the grate atop
the reflecting pool. It was a plate really, for it was not made of bars but
a solid lid, so a girl in high heels could stand upon it.
Still in her party dress, Linda in her camisole, the two of them
wrestled a moment atop the solid grate. At last LindaÕs will gave way.
She had to go too badly to fight any longer. Our own bottoms yearning now
to poop, making us dance in little trembling gyrations as we stood
watching, Linda clambored her bootied feet onto the chair. She speared
them through the chair legs, spreading herself in a bold wide-legged vee
upon the chairÕs seat. Her behind projected out over the end of the chair,
making its own reflection in the pool as Sandra pulled back the lid.
ÒBear down,Ó Sandra ordered, pushing LindaÕs face forward, into the
back of the chair. Linda bowed her back inward and grunted. A man fished
a little cat oÕ nine tails from his pocket, eyeing her widening anus. How
sweet it would be to soil the cat striking such a lovely exposed bottom!
Even I saw the awful beauty in that.
ÒUnh!Ó Linda groaned, oblivious to the waiting cat. Her asshole
enlarged some more and the first turd poked its nose from within her
derriere.
SWICK! Down came the cat, lightly but firmly, striking the creamy
right cheek of LindaÕs ass, pale now after her earlier spanking.
ÒOoooooh!Ó LindaÕs eyes gaped wide. Never in her wildest dreams had
she imagined that someone would whip her while she sat on the potty! But
the courtyard was for recreation, and for adult games. SWICK! Again the
lash hit, anointing LindaÕs other cheek with sparkles of pink. The girl
strove with herself, not wanting to poop now but unable to stop.
PLOP! The first turd went into the pool, nearly splashing her
outthrust bottom. Mistress watched it plunge quickly down into the
depths.
ÒNo, you missed a fish that time,Ó Sandra told her. ÒHit one and your
whipping will stop.Ó
ÒOh, me! Oh, my!Ó Linda glanced at us but found no mercy. Even we
girls were enthralled by the wicked beauty of it, pooping in an exotic
fishpond while a man flogged her oh-so-vulnerable ass, each skittering
knot on the catÕs nine tails ominously close to her her anus. And our own
need beckoned, making us wriggle our bottoms with insistent urgency. We
had no mercy for a girl who was making us wait. How awful it would be to
lose our shit, to poop it out where we stood, down our stockings, into our
beautiful boots. We would be truly spoilt then, not just prettily mussed.
ÒHurry up, you nincompoop!Ó I cried suddenly, astonishing even
myself. We girls would be fighting to get ON the potty soon, and here
Linda, already seated, was still striving to hold herself back.
ÒHurry up or weÕll take a crap right on your head,Ó Kitty added
coarsely, and in her case I knew she probably would, delighting in seeing
her shit soil LindaÕs lovely red hair. Her own was dishpan blonde, off-
blonde, off-brown, she was envious. She would give Linda a hairdo like
none other if the girl didnÕt finish quickly.
The man passed the cat to Linda. ÒI must relieve myself,Ó he said,
and directly he peed right into the fishpond, scaring the fish so thoroughly
that they dove deep, unlikely to resurface before Linda was through.
ÒUnh! Unh!Ó Linda was so nervous she was constipated, despite the
castor oil. (It had been cut, I thought, for the turds were all quite solid,
enough to get us going without giving us the runs. That wouldnÕt be dainty
at all, dumping diarrhea into the fishpond. We were being timed, that was
all, made to shit on a schedule.
With harder strokes than the man had given her Sandra now urged
Linda to shit out her turds. ÒHurry, girl! The others are waiting!Ó she
almost begged her, seeing by our tense faces how tightly clenched our
bottoms must be. Indeed, I myself was wondering if I could hold myself
in. I prayed IÕd be able too. My bottom wiggled like a dogÕs tail. I was
becoming Lassie.
At last Linda announced that she was finished. Sandra took a box of
kleenex, conveniently perched behind a rosebush on a garden wall, and
drew forth several tissues. Brushing back her long hair from her chest
Sandra bent forward and wiped Linda. She tossed the used tissues into a
little flowered waste can beside the chair. Her breasts, large and gourd
heavy, shifted and swelled within her party dress, inspiring one of the
men.
ÒIt is time you showed yours,Ó he said, and advanced on Sandra so
quickly that she had no time to retreat. He kissed her first, grabbing her
by the waist, pressing his thick cock into her dress, up against her belly.
When he let go of her there was a cum stain on the front of her pretty
dress. Pre-cum, I supposed, though it might have been a little ejaculation.
Men have those sometimes, losing only a little of their load, a kind of
relief valve that threatens to but does not release their entire burden.
Sandra made to step back, but the space around her was hemmed in
by decorative garden walls, low walls only at times ankle high, heaped
high with blooming flowers.
ÒOh, sir, please donÕt rip my pretty dress!Ó Sandra begged, as if
perhaps wanting to save it for some future party. Alas! The man grabbed
her temptingly low neckline and yanked it down. The dress tore a little,
but remained tight still, freeing her boobs. They joggled out into the open
air, jostled with each other, all white against her softly tanned skin, with
deliciously pointed red nipples.
ÒNow you shall look very pretty when you whip the girls and bend
over to wipe them,Ó the man chuckled.
ÒAh, pull me down in back at least!Ó Sandra begged. ÒIÕm showing
everything!Ó And indeed she was, for her lovely dress was rucked up in
back and tucked up in front, showing her bush and bottom, her titties
luridly jiggling above.
ÒDonÕt touch anything,Ó the man replied sternly. ÒDo as you are told
and a little else perhaps, but touch nothing about your attire. And
remember that when youÕve run out of games IÕm going to whip that hot
female ass of yours until you howl like the bitch you are.Ó
ÒOh, sir, you will not scar it?Ó Linda asked fretfully.
ÒI shall do as I please, it is too pretty, in my opinion,Ó he replied.
ÒNow take care of each girl and wipe her properly. Use your tongue if you
have to or I swear, if any of us finds one speck of shit on any of them, you
will indeed be scarred.Ó
ÒYou are wicked, sir, am I not the perfect hostess?Ó Sandra scolded
him.
ÒYou are indeed,Ó he replied, the two of them having reached some
kind of a truce with regard to his lust, which I knew must be eating at him
dreadfully. His poor organ was still enclasped in that awful ring, and the
other menÕs too, giving them pain every minute they watched our antics.
They yearned to spend themselves right there, into the fishpond, shooting
off at $1,000 dollar fish. But they held themselves in, somehow, with the
help of those fearsome rings. They could not escape them nor could they
cum as long as they remained on, though I imagined if push came to shove
they could shoot regardless. But the rings ÒhelpedÓ them hold back, helped
bar their release, to their eternal torment.
Quickly, to avoid the whip, the rest of us girls pooped our loads into
the pond. Sandra carefully wiped each of us clean, inspected our anuses to
make sure sheÕd done her work properly. Then inside we trooped, looking
forward with anxious anticipation to yet more games, knowing the marital
bed still waited.
30
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