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                                        Andrew Roller Presents
                                   NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
                                                       in 
                                        BOUND FOR PLEASURE


                                               Chapter One

         ÒThere will be a party this evening, Claire.  I should wish for you to 
attend,Ó Aunt Elizabeth called from the kitchen.  A moment later she 
brushed through the curtain of glass beads that separated the kitchen from 
the living room.  Her niece, Claire, sat hunched on the sofa.  She was 
watching T.V.  Mandy Moore blared from the set.  Next to Claire, on the 
cushions of the sofa beside her, there was a plate of Oreo cookies.  Claire 
was unscrewing a cookie.  She looked up.  As she did, she put half of the 
cookie to her mouth, holding the other half in her other hand.  She licked 
off the cream.
         ÒBut we just got home from the zoo,Ó Claire said, cream on her 
tongue and her lips and her teeth.  Her voice was a whine.  She wasnÕt 
really tired, though, just hot, her aunt surmised.
         ÒWe got in an hour ago,Ó Aunt Elizabeth told Claire.  ÒI told you to 
bathe so youÕd be fresh.  Now youÕre still feeling hot, and youÕre stuffing 
yourself with sugar.Ó  Aunt Elizabeth looked at ClaireÕs clothes.  Her eyes 
were disapproving, and her niece knew it.  The girlÕs Calvin Klein jeans 
were ripped at the knees.  Not from overuse, they had just been bought 
yesterday, but because Claire had taken a scissors to them.  She had taken 
the same scissors to her top.  It was cut just below the breasts, baring 
her soft childÕs belly.  Her growing tits pushed teasingly on the fabric of 
her shirt so that her boobs looked like they might thrust through it.  She 
wore no shoes.  The soles of her feet were black.
         ÒI swear, you are turning into a little tramp!Ó Aunt Elizabeth told 
Claire.  She walked over to the sofa.  Claire, thinking Aunt Elizabeth was 
going to stop her from eating, scooped up the plate of Oreos and put them 
on her knees.  But Aunt Elizabeth reached for the T.V. remote control, on 
the sofa next to the spot where the cookies had been.  She aimed it.
         ÒNo!  ThatÕs Mandy Moore!Ó Claire shrieked.  The T.V. went black.
         As Claire remonstrated, her voice high like that of a mouse with its 
tail stepped-on, Elizabeth shook her head.  The girl was 14.  At eight she 
might have been forgiven such self-centered, indulgent behavior, but she 
was almost a woman now.  Her body had curves; her legs, still long, 
werenÕt skinny like toothpicks any more.  She was young and beautiful, but 
she still had the spoiled disposition of a child.  Worse, there were boys 
next door, and Claire, when she wasnÕt indulging herself, had been flirting 
with them.  Elizabeth had inside knowledge on the boys.  One had V.D., two 
had the clap.  All three had herpes.  She had learned about them from a 
nurse who worked at the collegeÕs health clinic where she taught.  Aunt 
Elizabeth knew, even if Claire, didnÕt, what would happen if she left her 
alone in the house.  SheÕd come home to find the girl not only deflowered, 
but diseased as well.  She had a responsibility to ClaireÕs mother not to 
let that happen.  The girl had been sent to her for the summer, against her 
wishes, but she wasnÕt sending her back with diseases.
         ÒAunt Elizabeth, just because youÕre a college professor doesnÕt 
mean you can boss me around,Ó Claire protested.  She put another Oreo to 
her mouth.  She licked off the cream.  Then, the cream showing on her lips, 
she continued.  ÒAnyways, youÕre not that much older than me.  YouÕre only 
24.  So thatÕs only 10 years.  I think IÕm entitled to do what I want.Ó
         The older woman let the girlÕs voice prattle on as she remembered 
her conversation with ClaireÕs mother.  It was two weeks ago, school was 
just out.  Claire had a new boyfriend, and this time it looked to be serious.  
The guy was okay, a handsome enough fellow, but he was also the local 
drug dealer.
         ÒI know what he wants,Ó ClaireÕs mother, Jane, told Elizabeth.
         ÒOh yes,Ó Elizabeth answered, sipping tea in the womanÕs parlor.  
ÒHe wants your daughter for her mind.Ó
         ÒSheÕs old enough,Ó Jane continued, ignoring ElizabethÕs humor.  ÒI 
mean, I did it at that age.  But this guy, heÕll do more than just take her.Ó 
Jane looked exasperated.
         ÒAnd?Ó Elizabeth asked.
         ÒI donÕt want her doing drugs,Ó Jane replied.  ÒSex, but not drugs.Ó  
Loud music blared from the living room.  It had been Mandy Moore on the CD 
player that day, not the T.V.  ÒTurn that down!Ó Jane yelled.
         ÒAnd rock and roll,Ó Elizabeth cooed, sipping her tea again, very glad 
she didnÕt have a daughter of her own.
         ÒThatÕs why I want you to take her,Ó Jane said, turning again to the 
woman.  Elizabeth, so calm a moment before, nearly spluttered out her tea 
onto the parlorÕs carpet.
         ÒMe?!Ó Elizabeth asked. 
         ÒYes,Ó Jane answered.  Elizabeth waved her cup in the air.
         ÒNo!  No!Ó Elizabeth said, moving her arm expansively as if to ward 
off evil spirts.  ÒWerenÕt you listening?Ó she asked.  ÒA moment ago I just 
got through telling you about the new friends IÕve made.  We meet every 
Saturday and we dress up and we...Ó her voice trailed off.  She blushed, as 
she had been blushing minutes ago, before she managed to compose herself 
and let Jane talk of her niece.  Now the redness was back in her cheeks, 
and her breezy manner, so newly acquired, was gone.
         It was JaneÕs turn to look composed and to sip from her tea.
         ÒI know,Ó Jane said.  ÒMy husband and I used to go to such things.  
Before we had Claire.  If our group was still meeting IÕd have a mind to 
take Claire along.Ó  ElizabethÕs eyes widened.
         ÒYou would?Ó she asked.
         ÒYes,Ó Jane said.  ÒSheÕs going to lose it.  Why not with someone I 
approve of?Ó
         ElizabethÕs eyes wandered.  Her blush deepened.  She held her cup as 
still as she could, but it shivered in her hand.  ÒPerhaps things have 
changed,Ó she whispered.  When her eyes met JaneÕs, after a moment of 
trying to avoid them, she said, ÒOne knows roughly who will show up but 
not to the letter.Ó
         ÒYou mean she might be had by a stranger,Ó Jane said.
         ÒYes,Ó Elizabeth answered.  The word sprang from her lips, as if to 
catch Jane and force her to listen.  ÒA- A stranger!  So itÕs quite 
impossible.Ó  Jane frowned.
         ÒBut they are all tested beforehand?Ó she asked.  She knew her 
younger sister to be a cautious woman.
         ÒB- Beforehand, yes, but--Ó Elizabeth said, still feeling awkward 
and nervous, her cup shaking more in her hand than before.
         ÒItÕs settled, then,Ó Jane said.  She turned again in her chair and 
yelled once more for Claire, in the next room, to turn down her CD.  
         ÒWhatÕs settled?Ó Elizabeth asked.
         ÒShe will spend the summer with you,Ó Jane answered.  ÒTake her to 
your events.  See that she meets someone nice.  Someone I would approve 
of.  When she returns she will perhaps be a little older and wiser.  Wise 
enough, I should hope, to listen to softer music, and to not fall into bed 
with the first drug dealer she meets.Ó
         ÒHe is a high school boy,Ó Elizabeth blurted, suddenly finding herself 
in the disquieting position of defending a drug dealer.
         Jane sipped her tea.  Her eyes were clear.  They showed a kind of 
resigned determination.  Her lips quivered slightly as she drank, but her 
words were composed when she spoke:  ÒBetter a devil you know, than a 
devil I donÕt want to know,Ó Jane said.  ÒIÕm not about to have our 
neighborhoodÕs first crack baby.Ó
         ÒBut the men are older,Ó Elizabeth said.  She felt as if she were 
grasping at straws, slipping down a bank in wet mud.
         ÒWhat?  Successful young business men?Ó Jane asked.  Elizabeth 
nodded.  ÒSo IÕm supposed to be afraid of them?Ó Jane said.
         ÒBut perhaps as old as forty,Ó Elizabeth countered.
         ÒIt is no matter,Ó Jane said.  ÒMy husband was forty when I met him.  
I helped you get your degree, my dear, and you promised to pay me back.Ó
         ÒYes, but--Ó Elizabeth protested.  Jane put down her cup.
         ÒItÕs settled,Ó Jane said.

         And so it was, and now it was Saturday.  And after two weeks of 
skipping the parties, unwilling to take Claire along, Aunt Elizabeth had 
decided to yield.  She would take the girl.  She was eager to see her 
friends again, at the party, and she could not leave Claire alone in the 
house.  Aunt Elizabeth reached down.  She picked up ClaireÕs cookies.  The 
girl groped after them, whining.
         ÒAuntie!Ó Claire cried.
         ÒTo the bath tub, young lady,Ó Elizabeth answered.  ÒWeÕre going out 
tonight, you and I.Ó
         ÒIÕm not hungry,Ó Claire pouted.  Thinking her Aunt planned to take 
her to dinner, she added, ÒI donÕt want to get fat.Ó
         ÒOh, Miss Oreo?Ó Elizabeth asked.  She turned with the cookies, 
holding the plate in her hands.  She walked toward the kitchen.
         ÒWe wonÕt be eating, except perhaps canapes,Ó Elizabeth called.  ÒIÕll 
give you one of my pills before we go.Ó

         It was half an hour later that Claire found herself wrapped in a 
towel, wet from her bath, standing in her auntÕs bathroom on a soft fuzzy 
floor mat.  She regarded her aunt.  The woman held a white pill in one 
hand, a glass of water in the other.
         ÒOpen your mouth,Ó Elizabeth told Claire.  The girl blanched.
         ÒI donÕt wanna,Ó Claire answered, parting her lips to say it.  Her aunt 
saw the opportunity and deftly pressed the pill between ClaireÕs lips.  
Then, before the girl could spit it out, she put the water glass to her 
mouth.  She forced Claire to drink.  The girl did not resist with all her 
strength.  She was 14, she might have refused, but she did not, and after 
sheÕd swallowed the pill down, reluctantly, she asked,
         ÒWhat was that for?Ó
         ÒYou have no idea?Ó Elizabeth asked.  Her voice was solemn.
         ÒI-- well, I--Ó Claire blushed.  Elizabeth lifted her hand from the 
girlÕs lips to her her forehead.  She brushed back wet strands of blonde 
hair.  The girlÕs skin was white.  Her eyes shone in her face like jewels in 
an ivory Egyptian mask.  She had beautiful eyes, Elizabeth remarked to 
herself.  All blue and glittery, fairy eyes.  Elizabeth kissed the girlÕs lips.
         ÒMmmmf!Ó Claire protested.  Elizabeth ignored her objection.  Lifting 
her lips from the girlÕs, she said,
         ÒWe must get you a costume.  What would you like to be?  IÕm handy 
at making things.  A princess?  An elf?Ó  Claire, not knowing why a 
costume was needed, thought a moment, and then said,
         ÒIÕd like to be an airline stewardess!Ó
         ÒVery well,Ó Elizabeth answered.
         ÒBut why would I want a costume?Ó Claire blurted.  Elizabeth pushed 
the girlÕs hair back off her shoulders.  They were small, white.  Frail bones 
covered with ivory skin.  Her hair was finespun wet gold.
         ÒBecause we all must be something,Ó Elizabeth said.  She smiled.  ÒI 
will be a dark-haired gypsy, and you will be a new stew.  Perfect!Ó  She 
pecked the girl on the cheek. 

         Forty-five minutes later the two women left the house.  Elizabeth 
wore a gypsy scarf around her head.  It was multi-hued, the colors as 
diverse as the rainbow but all in dark shades.  Her brown hair was pinned 
up inside it.  Cheap gold colored earrings dangled from her ears.  There 
was glitter on her eyelids, silver and gold and rubies, little specks of 
color that gave her made-up eyes an ethereal sparkle.  ElizabethÕs cheeks 
were rouged.  They made her look like a cheap whore, or a female swindler, 
and she didnÕt care which way the look was taken.  There was a collar 
around her neck.  It was black leather, with silver studs and a buckle.  Her 
neck looked thin and fragile in it, as if it might be broken by it.  And then 
there was her dress.  The top was tight, clinging to her cleavage, skin-
tight, her breasts moving and shaking within the fabric to show she wore 
no bra.  Lower down, her dress was cut away to show her belly.  Her skin 
was smooth and soft, tanned, her navel a perfect little dimple.  Below the 
flatness of her belly her skirts billowed.  They were multi-hued like her 
scarf, dark-shaded.  Beneath the hem of her skirt her boots flashed, black 
leather infrequently seen due to the length of her dress.  She wore long 
sleeves.  Black leather gloves clad her hands.
         Beside her walked Claire.  The girl was primly dressed, as if ready 
to attend to passengers on an airline.  She wore a neat little blue cap on 
her head.  It had no bill, but was softly rounded, her hair tied in a ponytail 
and streaming out under its back.  Around her throat Claire wore a white 
collar, the collar of her blouse.  The blouse was mostly unseen due to a 
long-sleeved blue jacket Claire wore.  A mod tie hung down from her 
throat, tied at the front of her blouse.  The tie was a swirl of patterned 
flower designs, light blue against a light grey background.  ClaireÕs hands 
were bare.  Her face was without makeup, though she had wanted some.  
Elizabeth told her she looked prettiest just as she was.  The woman also 
wanted no man to be mistaken about ClaireÕs youth.  They would be easier 
on her if they could see she was still a child.
         Claire wore a modest blue skirt and dark, transparent stockings.  
Under her dress garters held the stockings aloft.  On her feet she wore 
polished black shoes.  They were new, unscuffed.  Elizabeth had bought 
them for her the previous week but the girl, in her torn jeans, had stuck to 
her bare feet and sneakers.  Now, however, she was enjoying playing 
Òdress up,Ó as her aunt described it to her.  She held her auntÕs hand as 
they walked to ElizabethÕs new white convertible.
         They streaked through the night, Elizabeth at the wheel.  Claire held 
her cap in her lap so the wind wouldnÕt blow it off.  The scarf on 
ElizabethÕs head clung to her hair.  It was tied tightly enough so that the 
wind only ruffled it.
         At a warm-looking house, the windows lit up but the curtains drawn, 
Elizabeth parked along the curb.  There were several other cars.  Two were 
in the driveway and three more in the street, one in front of her and two 
behind her.
         ÒWell, here we are,Ó Elizabeth said brightly.  It had been a fifteen 
minute ride.  She looked in the convertibleÕs rear-view mirror.  She 
straightened her scarf on her head.  Claire put on her cap.  Then the two 
young women got out of the car and, taking hands again, they went up a 
walkway to the house.
         
         They were received by a woman who looked about 30.  She smiled at 
them.  She was dressed as a nurse, albeit with a shorter skirt than that 
seen in hospitals, and patent leather white boots.  Her name was Paige.  
She knew Elizabeth by name but Claire she did not know.  Elizabeth 
introduced her.
         ÒThis is my niece,Ó Elizabeth told the woman.  ÒIÕve brought her 
along tonight.  I hope itÕs okay.Ó  Paige frowned.
         ÒWe do not have child care,Ó Paige said.
         ÒI brought her to be in the party,Ó Elizabeth said.  The womanÕs 
frown softened a little, but lingered.
         ÒShe is not 18?Ó Paige asked.
         ÒNo,Ó Elizabeth said.
         ÒIÕm fourteen!Ó Claire said proudly.  She stuck out her chest.  
Elizabeth wondered if sheÕd try holding up fingers to show her age but 
fortunately she did not.  PaigeÕs frown remained.  
         ÒYou have not been here in awhile, and you are new in any event,Ó 
Paige explained to Elizabeth.  ÒWe are adding a new twist tonight.Ó  She 
leaned forward.  She whispered in ElizabethÕs ear.  Claire saw her auntÕs 
eyes widen.
         ÒBut-- why?Ó Elizabeth asked.
         ÒOne of the men read about it and suggested it,Ó Paige said.  
ÒTheyÕve spent all week getting the things together.Ó  Paige tugged at her 
too-short skirt and continued, her voice suddenly quavering, ÒI must 
admit, it gives me the willies.  But the men are determined.  So you see, 
for a child like... Sarah, was it?Ó
         ÒClaire,Ó Claire corrected.
         ÒYes, Claire,Ó Paige said.  ÒFor a girl like her to start on a night like 
tonight, especially considering her age...Ó
         It was ElizabethÕs turn to tug at her skirts.  ÒI will vouch for her,Ó 
Elizabeth said.  ÒIÕm sure the men wonÕt be too hard on us.  They can go 
easy on her just as IÕm sure theyÕll go easy on us.Ó
         Claire was watching all this with a sense of wonder, her big blue 
eyes like lanterns guiding ships in the night.  Her lips, slightly parted, 
showed the wetness of her tongue within.  It slithered out and wet her 
lips.
         ÒThere must be no misunderstandings, then,Ó Paige said, after 
whispering again to Elizabeth and seeing the woman nod in assent.  She 
turned to Claire.  ÒMy dear Sarah,Ó she said.  Claire opened her lips to 
speak but, feeling a certain mesmerism in the older womanÕs voice, she 
said nothing.  ÒDear Sarah,Ó Paige said again, not noticing her mistake.  
ÒThere will be much frivolity tonight.  You have a very pretty costume.Ó
         ÒThank you, maÕam,Ó Claire replied.
         ÒBut you must understand that you will not be wearing it all night,Ó 
Paige said.  ClaireÕs face showed surprise.
         ÒOh, will someone else be wearing it?Ó the girl asked.
         ÒNo, of course not.  YouÕre the littlest here and itÕs made to fit you,Ó 
Paige answered.
         ÒOh, but I donÕt want to take another bath,Ó Claire protested.  
Anxiously she looked at her aunt.  Elizabeth blushed.  Paige cleared her 
throat, a high nervous cough, and, steeling herself, continued.
         ÒMy dear Sarah it is not for a bath that you will be disrobing,Ó Paige 
said.  There was a sudden sweat visible on the tip of her nose.  Her 
perfume, some variant of Gucci, grew stronger in the air.  Elizabeth, 
standing beside the girl, anxiously shifted her her slender-boned weight 
within the confines of her boots. ÒIt will be for having your belly filled,Ó 
Paige told Claire.  ÒDo you see what I mean?Ó
         ÒIÕm full.  I ate Oreos,Ó Claire answered matter-of-factly.

         Soon, slightly more informed but perhaps still somewhat misguided, 
Claire took her place among the guests of the party.  There were whoops of 
appreciation as she entered a room at the back of the house with her aunt.  
It was a room with several chairs and a sofa.  The floor was deep-piled 
carpet.  The walls were papered with patterns of daisies.  Their yellow 
hue was reflected in the carpet, though the carpetÕs yellow was paler.  
Claire saw a sideboard.  Someone had pulled open its glass doors.  Whiskey 
and rum and the odd wine bottle stood inside, visible through the glass or 
in the opening of the pulled open doors.  A man wearing a grey pinstriped 
suit lifted aloft a glass.
         ÒTo Liz,Ó he called out.
         ÒAnd to her friend,Ó a second man added.  Claire blushed, as did 
Elizabeth.  The men drank down their toast and then came forward.  Other 
men, and several women, gathered around the two females.  They were all 
in costume:  one was a fireman, another a coach, a third, a woman in a 
purple dress, looked like a royal princess.
         ÒWill she be partying with us tonight?Ó the princess asked.  Her 
name was LeeAnn.
         ÒYes,Ó Elizabeth answered.  Her voice was nervous.
         ÒShe is so young,Ó LeeAnn commented.
         ÒIÕm fourteen,Ó Claire replied.
         ÒLet me kiss you then, if you are that old,Ó LeeAnn said.  She was 
blonde, like Claire, and as she leaned forward, putting her lips to the 
girlÕs, leaning down and hugging her, a man, the fireman, lifted up the back 
of ClaireÕs skirt.
         ÒOh please not so fast,Ó Elizabeth said, a squeak coming from Claire 
as she felt the backs of her stockinged thighs and her pantied bottom 
exposed.  LeeAnnÕs lips squelched her cry.
         ÒGod, what a perfect little ass!Ó the fireman said.  A second man, the 
coach, leaned in next to him, joining him in the view.
         ÒA nice, fat, little round ass,Ó the coach agreed.  ÒAnd such nice 
panties.  IÕm a sucker for little girl panties.Ó
         ÒSo clean and white,Ó the fireman agreed.  ÒThey donÕt really match 
her black stockings, though.  LetÕs have them off her.Ó
         ÒWell,Ó the coach said, ÒI really donÕt think we should.  When I was 
driving over here I found myself behind a city bus.  And a sign board on the 
back of it said, ÔShe looked 18 is no excuse.Õ  And then it went on to say, 
ÔSex with a minor is a crime.Õ
         ÒGood God, youÕre right!Ó the fireman said.  ÒAnd with this girlÕs 
chubby, childish cheeks, she barely looks 14, let alone 18.Ó
         ÒExcept for her tits,Ó the coach said.  ÒThose big tits of hers make 
her look 18.Ó
         ÒSo, we could say, ÔHer tits looked 18.ÕÓ
         ÒRight,Ó the coach said.  ÒExcept for her bottom.  ThatÕs still such a 
small, little girlÕs bottom.  I guess all her extra fat is going into her tits.Ó
         ÒIt happens sometimes, with growing girls,Ó the fireman agreed.  ÒI 
really donÕt think we should have sex with her.  Remember what Caesar 
said, ÔI came, I saw, I saw someone could get hurt if there was a battle, 
and so I went home.ÕÓ
         ÒRight!Ó the coach agreed.  ÒAnd remember what Jesus said, ÔHealing 
on the Sabbath day is illegal, and I wouldnÕt want to break the law.ÕÓ
         ÒAnd George Washington, remember him?Ó the fireman said.  ÒI 
quote:  ÔI wouldnÕt want to have an American Revolution.  That would be 
breaking the law.ÕÓ
         ÒWell, we better not have anything to do with her then,Ó the coach 
said.  ÒSheÕs a minor.  And, now that I think about it, her aunt looks pretty 
young too.  I think IÕll go to the liquor store instead, and buy Penthouse, 
and go home and jerk off.Ó
         ÒGood idea!Ó the fireman said.  ÒWeÕll jerk off together.Ó
         And so all the men went home, except for the coach and the fireman, 
who went home together.  The women, having nobody to party with, went 
home also.


                                                   THE END


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