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Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
CHAMBERS OF LOVE
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Chapter Five
It took several days for our bottoms to recover. We spent the
time lounging by our master's pool. We called him "master" now, still
not knowing his name, for he had claimed each of us over the blocks,
with his cock.
It was summer and we were in no hurry to return home. My
mother was still away on vacation. Our master delighted in seeing us
traipse around with our red bottoms. We wore dog collars about our
slim necks, pretty captives kept and cosseted for his pleasure.
Marguerite hovered over us, making sure we performed our chores;
sucking our master off each morning, eating topless with him at meals,
saying our prayers for him in the evening. He fucked us not, though,
waiting until our bottoms healed.
I lay idly on a chaise lounge. Above me the interstices of a maple
tree cast patterns on my body. I was topless, with only a trifling bikini
panty between me and my master's lust. Master insisted that we keep
our boobies and bottoms pure white. Our privates were his canvas,
Marguerite said ominously. So we weren't allowed to lounge in the sun.
When we girls lay out by the pool it was always under a tree or
umbrella.
Helga was to my left, sleeping prettily in her own chaise lounge,
and to my right was Julie. She tossed, no doubt still haunted by her
trials on the bridal bed in the punishment chamber. I had seen some of
it, had gasped at the rigor with which she was fucked. We assumed she
was pregnant now, carrying the seed of master or one of his vigorous
guests.
Through the shimmering haze of mid-afternoon heat a prim
Oriental woman stepped towards me. She was clad as I was, but with
spiked pumps. They glittered in the sun. She bent over me, her
abundant breasts swinging like ripe fruit. In a whispery voice she said,
"Come, you have been selected."
Still lost in my daydreams I made to rise, uncertain; she pulled
gently on my arm. "There is no time, come," she said as I made to bid
my companions goodbye. Led by the hand she took me within master's
mansion. I was taken upstairs and she supervised me as I was made to
shower, then dress. She did my makeup for me and combed out my hair,
complimenting it. But her limited English gave me no inkling of who
had requested me, or why.
I was ushered out to a waiting limousine. A gentleman met me
and slipped me into the back seat beside a woman who was introduced
to me as his wife. I was wearing a low cut tube dress that made no
bones about showing off my tits. The woman greeted me by smiling
appreciatively at my bosoms. My legs were just as amply revealed, and
I tugged nervously at my wickedly short skirt to try to get some of it
between my pantied bottom and the car's leather seat.
We sped away from the mansion, leaving behind my friends Helga
and Julie, perhaps even master himself! I had no idea where I was
going. My two new acquaintances offered me wine and biscuits, and
gently pried my name and nationality from me. They were French, of
course, and seemed delighted to have an American girl in their
presence.
"You are just what we asked for," the woman, Marie, said happily.
"Oui, Madam?" I asked, testing the single word of French I'd
learned since arriving.
"Yes, yes," the man replied, taking my hand firmly but delicately.
"Young, vivacious, with, how do you say, that Mid-Western naivete?" I
nodded, having little else in the way of options. The man was quite
large and seemed to have spent many years as a body builder, though he
was in his forties now. He was still fit, though, with no gut like most
men his age. He wore a dark sport coat and his wife was in a pantsuit.
She was younger, perhaps by 15 years, and sensuous.
They told me we were going to a party and, indeed, we soon
arrived. It was a small, well-kept house shrouded in a grove of
overhanging willow trees. In the distance I could hear a gurgling brook.
A woman in a blouse and jeans answered the door when we knocked and
merrily let us in.
"Hello Kimmy," the woman in jeans said upon being told my name.
"You will like partying with us." She had a husband, a broad-shouldered
man in his mid-twenties. He grinned at me as he sat watching a game
on television in the living room. The woman in jeans was named Joanna
and she was 23. She told me she was a Pisces and asked my sign.
We drifted into the living room and settled comfortably onto a
pair of settees. I found myself between Marie and Joanna. We chatted
about France and the zodiac, America, and the game on T.V., which the
two men watched religiously when it was not being interrupted by a
commercial. The game was soccer, a semi-final of some kind.
Presently Joanna asked me to dance, as we do it in America.
Without music I stood and began to shyly gyrate. They urged me on and
I became more adventurous, sexily lifting up my skirt in back to see if
the men, absorbed in their game, would notice. Mischievously, I flipped
up the front, to squeals of delight from Joanna and Marie. But the men
were so preoccupied that they did not even notice. There must have
been something in the drinks which made me act so naughtily.
Marie rose from the couch and quietly took my hand. She put her
finger to her lips, indicating that I should be silent. With a smile she
led me from the living room. Joanna followed. The men were still
absorbed in their game.
Where, I wondered, was Marie taking me? I wasn't sure I wanted
to know. Helpfully she slipped a hand under my dress and palmed my
bottom.
"Your master was so gracious to let me have you," Marie breathed
into my ear. We came to a door and she let me inside. Joanna followed
us in and closed the door, then quietly locked it.
We were in a sumptuous bedroom.
"I-I'm not sleepy," I protested. Marie laughed.
"I only wish for you to be comfortable," Marie said. Out of the
corner of my eye I saw Joanna pluck a birch rod from a tall flower vase.
It dripped with brine.
"Turn around," Marie said to me. I did so, putting my back to her.
"Dance for me," she ordered, "Like you do in America."
Truculently I began to squirm about. Marie soon grasped me by my
jiggling ass and cupped it, squeezed it. I thought perhaps she wished to
slow me and danced less saucily. But Marie breathed to me that I
should dance more sexily.
"Perhaps if you take her dress off..." Joanna advised.
"Yes, we must do that in any event," Marie agreed. She told me to
raise up my arms. Taking the hem of my skirt she pulled it upwards,
exposing first my panties and then my belly. As the dress cleared my
braless bosoms it set my stiff nipples to wiggling.
Joanna gasped at the sight of my springy bosoms. I felt a sudden
pride, thrust them out obscenely as my dress was pulled over my head.
Briefly I was in darkness, my face hidden by my dress. Yet my titties
stuck out, invitingly naked, the tender paps pink and vulnerable.
Marie dropped my dress to the floor. Modestly I cupped my
titties, hiding the nipples. Marie urged me to dance more vigorously. I
stood there, my back to her, and waggled my bottom as salaciously as I
could. She slipped a finger into either side of my little panties and
drew them inward until they were fully stuck in my ass crack. I wore
thong panties now, my restless bottom cheeks deliciously exposed.
Suddenly I farted. It was just a little one, but Marie and Joanna
heard it and laughed. I felt hugely embarrassed, dropping my hands for
a moment and blushing fiercely.
"How rude," Marie said then in a disapproving voice. Fearfully I
lifted my hands to protect my breasts. "And don't think I haven't
noticed how conceited you are about your lovely tits. Turn around and
show them to me."
My palms lingering over my breasts I turned about to face her,
still anxious at what she might have in store for me. But when my eyes
met hers I let my hands fall, so eagerly and expectantly did she greet
the sight of my half-covered tits.
"They're gorgeous," she breathed, astonished. "And so large for a
15-year-old. You make me jealous." She ordered me to dance some
more, facing her, and to wiggle my tits as hard as I could. I obeyed,
proud of my twin endowments, oblivious now to the wickedness of my
behavior.
Joanna came up behind me with one arm hidden behind her back.
Inexplicably I flaunted my ass at her. She grabbed my makeshift thong
panties and stripped them down to my knees. Then she produced the
birch, which she had been hiding behind her back as she approached me.
It consisted of several long twigs tied together with a yellow ribbon.
It was wet with salt, drops of water still clinging ominously to the
buds.
I yelped as she gave me the first of several swift cuts.
"So you like to be naughty but don't like being punished for it?"
Joanna asked, hitting me again on my poor bare rump. I danced about
desperately, smarting from the blows.
"Give her more encouragement," Marie said. "She can dance more
sensuously than that, can't you Kimmy?" Her voice was thick with her
French accent, so excited was she by my antics.
"Ooch! Ooch! Please!" I fretted, as the rod sliced into my soft,
wobbly heinie. I tried to protect my ass with my hands but Joanna
whipped them away.
"She will be too marked if I continue," Joanna said now in French
to Marie.
"Alright," Marie replied. "Get over to the bed, American girl."
My panties ringing my knees, my bottom stinging, I shuffled
spraddle-legged over to Joanna's sumptuous bed. The covers were
already turned down. Weepily I mounted, briskly rubbing my heinie in
hopes of soothing it.
Marie came up behind me and grasped my thin shoulder.
"I-I'm sorry," I whimpered. "It does hurt so."
"Poor baby," Marie said, stroking my hair. "I know it hurts." She
kissed me gently on my face, on the cheek. "Don't worry, it's my turn
now." To my amazement she pulled me from the bed and got on herself.
Kneeling, her back erect and facing me, she ordered me to unzip her. I
didn't know whether to be involved or not, but anything was better than
being struck by that torturous birch. From behind I unzipped her. She
was nude inside her pantsuit. I helped her out of it. Behind me Joanna
slipped out of her jeans and blouse. She presented herself to me naked,
and asked meekly how I would like her.
I felt a sudden overwhelming need to dominate the women. This
was no doubt so because my ass was still flaming from their
mistreatment.
"Get on the bed, beside Marie," I ordered. Joanna handed me the
birch rod and begged me not to hurt her too badly. "I will hurt you just
as much as I please," I said, and seemed to delight Joanna at saying
this.
"She needs to be hit hard," Marie piped up. Joanna said something
in French to Marie, and got on the bed.
Astonishingly, both women now bent forward until their chins
touched the sheets. I rubbed my bottom and told them to raise theirs. I
looked behind me to briefly check the condition of my ass. I had a
beautiful tan, with the exception of my startlingly white bottom which
was crisscrossed with about a dozen bright red slash marks. "Oh, what
will master say, when he sees this?" I wondered aloud at the condition
of my bottom. Before me the two women rolled their bottoms
expectantly, and turned their faces toward one another and kissed.
"You know this is going to hurt," Joanna breathed to Marie.
"But it's for our husbands," Marie replied.
"What?" I asked suddenly, for I'd spotted a little camera behind
me. "You're-you're filming all this?"
"Yes," both women replied together. "That's why our husbands
pretended not to see us leave. We're going to a party this weekend and
we need to take a homemade porno film to show."
"So you secretly filmed me being humiliated?" I asked, indignant.
"We were assigned to make one with a beautiful, underage girl,"
Marie said.
"Well, you're going to really get it," I replied angrily. "See how
your friends like seeing you bawling you're heads off!" I lifted the birch
and awkwardly struck the first blow. Joanna rocked forward. I
suddenly realized I'd never whipped anyone in my life.
I struck again, Marie this time, but she hardly moved.
"Harder dear, or we'll still be here this weekend and miss the
party," Marie said.
"I-I'm sorry," I said. "I've never done this before."
"Well, get with it or I'll have to give you more instruction,"
Joanna replied.
"Alright, I said. "I'll try my best."
"Just whack away as hard as you can," Marie said. "Don't spare us,
for the losers of the film contest must be harshly whipped, by
professionals."
"Here, let me inspire you," Joanna said. She rose from the bed and
walked to a nightstand. She returned with a gag, and bound it over
Marie's mouth. Then, still standing before me enchantingly naked, she
gagged herself also. Then she thought a moment and returned to the
nightstand and pulled twin handcuffs from a drawer. She cuffed Marie
and then beckoned me to bind her. I complied, as much a servant as a
domme. Joanna got back on the bed and assumed her former position.
Both women put their captive wrists between their legs, and began
softly to frig themselves. Their bare bottoms gyrated invitingly,
begging to be punished for their naughty ways.
I felt quite angry now that they were indulging themselves by
wantonly masturbating before me. I felt used, like a servant of these
women, for some partiers' pleasure who I would probably never meet.
I bit my lower lip and whacked Joanna's bottom hard. Then I
walloped Marie, and she bucked forward under the force of the blow. I
knew I had the hang of it now, albeit I didn't know how to sweetly
polish the bottom, but only how to forcefully flay it. I grunted,
inflicting as much pain as possible. The women's eyes bulged and they
rocked on their knees.
"Keep your chins down," I said. "And keep those asses high!"
Shiveringly they obeyed as I beat them ever more viciously. I had no
sense of how to whip gracefully, but suspected it was the
unprofessional awkwardness of my blows that they wanted to film. A
more experienced flagellator would be able to make the whipping last
all night, and leave few marks. But with me they were looking for an
amateur, and marks had to be left if they were to show up nicely on
camera.
I whipped away, remorsefully pausing now and then to see if they
wanted to stop. But they just kept masturbating, responding
involuntarily to my blows. About half-way through they each climaxed
in turn. I watched with fascination as their bottoms became bright red,
then bruised. Finally I threw down the haggard birch rod and refused to
hurt them anymore.
"You'll have to do it yourselves if you need any more," I said. "I'm
not a sadist and never will be!" I ran to the door, figured quickly how to
unlock it. I flung it open and went crying to the front of the house.
"Well, you look delightful!" the men greeted me, still watching
their game, or a follow-on game.
"Oh, take me home!" I insisted. "I'll have no more whipping today,
thank you!" I turned and stomped toward the front door. The men
admired the fresh stripes on my bottom, rising up and following me.
They came up alongside me on either side and insisted I return to the
couch with them.
Like a prisoner I was taken and forcibly sat down between them,
my bottom perched on one of their knees. Politely they fed me potato
chips and dip. I sat like a captive sparrow between them, but soon
grew happy. I felt like a little girl, sexily teasing my father, or one of
his friends.
One of the men began to stroke the insides of my thighs. He
complimented their softness. Higher and higher his fingers rose up the
creamy flesh. I spread my legs helpfully. Finally he touched my button.
I giggled, a kind of laughing moan. The other man tugged at my stiff
nipples. They concentrated between themselves on my nipples and my
clit. I stirred on their knee. In the distance I heard a sound of
whipping. I imagined Joanna, her hands still bound before her, whipping
Marie with both hands cuffed together.
With my fingers I unzipped the men as I sat hopefully between
them. They popped out of their flies, rigid and pulsing. I encircled each
of their cocks with one of my little hands and began happily pumping
them even as they touched me in my most intimate places.
All was reflected in a distant mirror, me bouncing between them,
masturbating both at once, them making me squirm awfully.
"Are you close to coming?" the man on whose knee I was sitting
asked me.
"I-I think so," I breathed huskily, becoming more serious now as
my pleasure mounted.
"How about you, Dave?"
"Yea, I can barely hold it in," Dave shuddered.
"I want all three of us to come together," my laptop companion
said. "Leave off of Dave for a minute until I catch up."
I obeyed, impressed by the decadence of it all. I never thought I
could be so sinful!
My suitors and I continued our mutual masturbating, with the
exception of Dave who needed a rest. Finally Greg (my laptop suitor,
whose name I didn't yet know) gasped that he was ready to spurt. "Are
you ready?" Greg asked me. I nodded that I was.
My eyes closed now, my face flushed, I reached over and gently
grasped Dave's quivering member again. He gasped and thrust up his
hips. I pumped Greg forcefully so he wouldn't be left behind. Then, to
my intense delight, I looked about and saw both men spurting at once,
like fountains. A shudder racked my body and I flew into an orgasm,
even as I admired the gushing cocks. I rubbed them vigorously, happily
gazing through desire-filled eyes as their udder-like rods drenched my
fingers with their milk. The blades of my hands repeatedly struck their
lovely, huge scrotums which bulged out beneath. They were drawn up
tightly to deliver up the precious seed. I vowed to greedily lick the
men clean as soon as we were finished.
The women entered the room about five minutes later to find me
kneeling between their husbands, happily licking their balls.
"Oh, so that's what you're up to," Marie said. She was rubbing her
hiney, as was Joanna.
"Well, I hope you're happy now," I said to the women between
fervent licks. The men insisted that the two women turn around. To my
shock they presented bottoms awful with weals. Cream gleamed wetly
on their buttocks, a somewhat futile attempt at soothing the flesh.
"May we join you?" Marie and Joanna begged. "Our butts need to be
spermed to ease the pain."
"I don't wanna," I said through a mouthful of testicles. "You got
what you asked for. These cocks are mine for the whole night!" The
men grinned at each other.
"I'm afraid she's our guest and must have her way," Greg smiled at
his wife. "You two will have to content yourselves with your birch rod
this evening."
"But we did it for you--" Joanna protested.
"Forget it," Marie said. "What do you think you'd do if you had a
15-year-old girl merrily licking your cock?"
"I'd fuck her brains out the minute I got hard," Joanna admitted.
"And you'd pray to get hard again so you could fuck her all night,"
Marie said.
"And then when he was utterly empty I'd put on a dildo and fuck
her myself," Joanna said. I didn't say anything in response to that but I
did feel a shiver race up my spine. I was going to be the best-fucked
American girl in Paris, I could see. I didn't know if I was going to let
the women fuck me, but I could see that I wouldn't be quite so
virginally tight by morning.
***
Well, its hard to keep two beautiful women down, especially if
they're standing right in front of you, naked and wet. The men stiffened
quickly under my ministrations. I was more or less swept away with
pleasure by then, my conscience on vacation. My uterus was calling the
shots now.
Joanna, always the boldest, suggested that we make a little porno
film. The men cared not what they did, as long as they got to poke it
with their newly rekindled things. It was suggested that I be the star
attraction. I knew the plot would mostly involve my pussy.
Haltingly I let them lead me back to the bedroom I'd so recently,
definitely, abandoned. Once more I found myself within it, admiring its
opulence. Joanna dressed in a severe black cire gown as the others,
naked, readied the camera equipment. There would be no hidden
cameras this time. More lights were brought in, set up. A microphone
was placed close to the bed, to record my moans...my screams? Mostly
I just stood watching, trembling. My twitching pussy insisted that I
stay.
I was to play the "victim," of course. They gave me delicate
white schoolgirl panties to put on, which looked like they'd been made
for a girl of twelve. I struggled into them. They had me tie my hair
back in a ponytail. Then they handed me denim cutoffs. I felt awkward,
reluctant to put them on. My cunny wanted to stay naked. Silently it
fussed at me for putting on clothes.
I pulled the denim shorts together in front and buttoned them up
with difficulty. In back they seemed to crease the upper cheeks of my
bottom. I felt back there, then looked in a mirror. These shorts would
get me arrested if I wore them anyplace but a bedroom. My butt cheeks
hung out like two shapely pieces of meat, white and tender and
intriguingly marked by the birch. Even in Paris I don't think they'd have
let a girl parade herself around in these, especially with the birch
marks showing. The nothing panties had already settled in my butt
crack and could not be seen, even with most of my ass showing.
I walked back and forth a few times, looking at myself in the
room's several mirrors and waggling my ass like a prostitute. Proudly I
noted the effect my alluringly clad figure had on my friends. Joanna
stopped dressing to watch, the men put down their camera equipment
and guiltily stroked themselves.
Marie stopped me and slipped a small checkered shirt over my
diminutive shoulders. She tied it underneath my breasts with fawning
eyes, leaving my bosoms uncovered. Then she primly rolled up the
sleeves of the shirt to my elbows.
"There, all ready," she said. She bent and placed a soft kiss on the
tip of each of my nipples. "A little lipstick to brighten them up."
Joanna finished dressing and came over to me and quickly went
over the script. As she spoke Dave was tied on the far side of the bed's
brass-poled headboard. Then Greg and Marie took up their positions for
filming. At the moment, the film crew was wearing less than the
actors! (Well, less than the main actors, I reminded myself, for Dave
would play a role too, as a captive cock. And he was already naked and
displaying his fine contribution to the film.)
Joanna became the steely, manipulative domme she was to play as
the moment of filming neared. She scared me, with the transformation
she had put herself through. Her eyes became hard, unfeeling, uncaring,
as if she would use me, unlovingly, for her pleasure only. As if I were
a dildo, a piece of plastic, nothing more.
***
I watched the film much later, deep in the night, on a VCR in their
living room, on a huge T.V. (No, my pussy was not shown actual size.
Rather it was shown about ten times larger than actual size, to my
intense embarrassment.) As I watched I became totally absorbed in the
flimsy plot, as if I were actually living it:
"But I'm not sleepy," I protested. My eyes were wide, innocent.
Already I had undone my shirt, as mistress commanded. My boobies
hung in all their high, firm glory from between the halves of the
checkered blouse. I looked like a farmer's daughter, except for my
heels.
"Not sleepy? That won't be a problem," Joanna replied. She tore
open the knot of my shirt with quick, almost desperate fingers, then
shoved the blouse off my shoulders. It fluttered to the floor behind me.
One by one she popped open the buttons of my once-valuable Levi's 501
jeans. They were tattered and so deprived of most of their fabric that
it was hard to imagine anyone but lusty men regarding them favorably.
(Or lusty lesbians.) Down they went, pushed down my sleek legs by
Joanna who ordered me out of them. I was left with only my schoolgirl
panties and my ponytail.
Joanna led me inside. Breathlessly the camera followed. It was a
bedroom. (Surprise!) A big brass bed awaited me, the covers already
turned down. Instantly I saw why sleep wouldn't be necessary, even
desired. At the head of the bed a beautiful young male stood bound, just
beyond the poles, his own sticking between them. He must have been a
good ten inches, or more. He stabbed desperately at the air, dejectedly,
as if he'd been wanting to cum for days. He was blindfolded.
The bed was elevated higher than most, necessitating a small set
of wooden steps which led up to it from the side. It seemed as much
made for displaying the human form as providing it with rest. Mistress
Joanna ordered me to mount.
"It's time for your nap," she cooed. "Such as it is." I took the
first step and then, remembering my pumps, I lifted my right foot up
behind me and made to slip them off.
"No," Joanna corrected me. "I want you to keep them on." I
nodded, smiled, reluctantly replaced my foot upon the step. Daintily I
clicked my way up the little staircase, my bottom wobbling as I
negotiated the staircase in my six inch spiked heels. I settled my
tushy onto the exposed sheets. They were cool and crisp. I felt
deliciously wicked as I lay back on them, clad only in my tiny white
bikini briefs. As a girl of 15 living with my mother I was only
accustomed to wearing PJ's and a flannel nightgown to bed. These
undies, made to look like any innocent walking home from school had
them on, were actually quite unusual for me in bed, and secretly
thrilled me.
I glanced back at the male just beyond the bed's brass-poled
headboard. I pretended not to know him. And, in reality, I knew nothing
more than his first name, and his glorious cock. Then I rolled my head
sideways to gaze at Joanna, my face glowing. Looking at me, she pulled
down the front of her decollete dress. Her pointy bosoms tumbled out.
Her tits were firm and her areolas shivered at me like a pair of electric
stoplights. Joanna advanced to the side of the bed. My breasts, still
juddering slightly, thrust up at her despite the groundward pull of
gravity.
Without saying a word, I knew Joanna wanted my panties.
Seductively I hooked my thumbs into the waistband. Hesitantly I pulled
them off my bottom, drawing both of my knees up toward my chin. Then
I exposed my pussy, drawing the bikini along my thighs toward my feet.
I slipped my panties over my knees, my labia lips and the undersides of
my thighs already startlingly revealed to Joanna's admiring eyes.
Finally, struggling a bit, I got my panties down to my ankles and
plucked them off the spikes of my heels. Still holding the bikini by the
sides I lifted it up and laid it modestly over my breasts. My legs,
though, still drawn up, fell open to reveal the pink lips of my cunt to
Joanna. She placed a fingernail in the open crack of my bottom and
pushed it rearward to my exposed anus. I gasped as she poked me there
with her nail. Then, switching fingers, her hand journeyed to my cunt,
stroking it and then settling on my pee hole.
"Turn over," Joanna said. "Get on all fours and press your chin to
the sheet." Smilingly I obeyed, though my stomach was tightening with
apprehension. "Lift your bottom," Joanna ordered. "Higher, as high as
you can. Now put your hands behind you and spread yourself as wide as
you can." Willingly I obeyed, though I was trembling now. I felt the
room's cool air caress the stretched dimple of my anus as I forcibly
displayed it to Joanna. She bent over me and tested the resiliency of
my tushy to make sure I was pulling it as far apart as I could. The
camera zoomed in. I had to hide my eyes as my shithole took on a
starring role.
"Good," Joanna complimented my celluloid twin. "You are very
brave for such a young girl. I'm going to give you something to help you
sleep."
"What?" I asked softly, curiously.
"A little workout, until you are exhausted and sleepy. I have a
fine new dildo and it's just dying to help you. You'll sleep like a baby
when we're through."
I had been watching the video alone, but now Greg entered the
room. Seeing my ass up there on the screen made him instantly randy.
We'd gotten carried away during the filming and I'd never actually
received the promised impalement of my buns. Greg clasped my frail
shoulders.
"Have you ever been fucked up the butt?" he asked.
"S-Some," I replied, looking anxiously over my hunched shoulders
at him. He laughed.
"For a girl of 15 I don't think 'some' would amount to much." He
pressed me forward, down, until my cheek touched the plush carpet. My
ass rose up. On the T.V. a dildo was introduced to my cunny, even as
Greg now quickly greased himself and jabbed into my anus with his
manhood. I squeaked, gasped, moaned with my T.V. self as we both
suffered penile assaults. The night promised to be even longer than it
had already been.
***
The five of us took a leisurely breakfast just before ten the next
morning. The men begged us to eat topless, so we did, despite the
lingering coldness of the previous night. Our nipples stood out stiffly
in the chilly air. I draped a shawl over my shoulders to keep warm. I
tied a little string across my bust to keep the shawl on, but made sure
it didn't cover the view of my titties. Below I wore a wrap about my
waist to modestly cover my pussy and thighs. It tied at the small of
my back and left my bottom alluringly bare. Marie dressed similarly
while Joanna wore a short transparent skirt from her ballet class. We
all wore pumps, of course, and assiduously repaired our makeup before
sitting down to our brunch.
Eggs Benedict topped the meal, along with a delicious assortment
of fruit and pancakes. Of course the men couldn't finish the meal
without pouring the pancake syrup over our tits. Marie protested that
we'd just taken a bath, but the men assured us they'd clean us up
themselves. We squirmed in our chairs as the men licked our bosoms.
They urged us to masturbate as they "cleaned" us, and we did,
reluctantly. Then, of course, they had to "clean" our natural juices off
our pussies. Such is the way of men. Afterward, of course, we had to
bathe all over again. We took a group shower that quickly degenerated
into a soapy mess. It ended with me bent over the side of the tub as the
men once again reminded me of their prowess, to the delight of the
onlooking women.
I remember well stepping into the tiled sterility of the shower.
The white china bathtub received my feet. Like some animal I stood,
my pussy twitching and wet, my chest still lightly heaving from being
licked. The men's cocks stemmed thickly before me. Pre-cum at the tip
of each slit announced the advanced state of their lust. Lightly with a
fingertip I traced the veins of Greg's organ. He reached out to grasp my
pussy but Joanna shooed his hand away. She presented him with a bar
of soap and a shocking request:
"Please, just for us girls, would you wash Dave's cock?" Greg's
eyes widened in disbelief. Marie licked her lips and nodded.
"No way!" Dave said. But he was the younger of the two. Greg
turned to him and clasped his protruding genitalia as if seizing the
loins of a young masturbating boy.
"You do have a fine penis," Greg said, caressing the boy's organ
with his fingertips even as he grasped it firmly in his palm. Yes, Dave
seemed just a boy now, his cheeks still ruddy with youth, his frame
handsome and unmarked.
The water was not yet on. Standing there, dry as a bone, Dave
watched as Greg rubbed the bar of soap all over his penis. It chafed
against his skin, leaving a white, powdery residue. To enhance the
eroticism, Joanna finally fetched a bottle of wine from the kitchen and
its contents were poured over Dave's cock. He moaned as he watched
the soap residue wetten. Greg rubbed him and a sea of bubbles erupted
upon his manhood. Greg let go of him then and Dave frothily presented
himself to our sight. Joanna laughed and snapped pictures of his
genitalia. Wet and dripping, no doubt in need of a fig leaf, it stood
centered upon a magnificent physique that yet remained dry.
His cock now well sudsed, still coated with little sparkling
bubbles, Dave set about giving a similar bath to Greg. Both men
trembled with a wretched desire to cum as Dave earnestly went about
his lewd task. Hotly I stuffed my thumb in my mouth and sucked it as I
stared. I wanted to rub myself but held back, as I saw the other girls
were doing. It was strange, this abstinence amidst such heady sights
and sounds. Joanna purred and put her arm around Marie's waist. They
exchanged glances, but nothing more. Greg grunted, gritted his teeth,
right at the brink of orgasm--thanks to another man! Dave desisted a
moment to allow his friend a chance to cool down. Then he was back at
the cock, stroking and squeezing it and pumping it. He cupped the balls
too and found them pleasantly heavy.
Joanna directed the men to sit their bare bottoms on the side of
the tub and watch now as we girls afforded them a similar treat. They
complied, and I thought they looked like twin Hercules waiting to begin
their labors. Legs open, cocks rigidly erect, they watched as Joanna
lined up Marie and me and directed us to soap each other.
We kissed first, moulding our dry bodies together, seeking,
perhaps, absolution in each other for what we were about to do. Then
Marie accepted soap from Joanna and went to work on my pussy. I
stood, looking down, a finger in the corner of my mouth. Joanna played
ringmistress, stroking our bottoms and giving us an occasional
admonitory slap. She did not even feign to be disciplining us for some
perceived wrong, merely wished to hear the sound of flesh against
flesh. We wriggled when she smacked one or the other of us, like eels
on a dry dock.
Finally the water got turned on and our shower proceeded
normally, insofar as five people crowded into a bathtub shower could
effectuate normality. We scrubbed ourselves and then each other.
Finally the men got their crack at me, pummeling me with their soapy
cocks. I think I know now what it feels like to be roto-rootered. I hope
in my next life I do not come back as clogged plumbing.
***
Just after noon I was taken back to master's house. Marie and
Joanna kissed me goodbye. We exchanged promises to play together
again someday but instinctively I knew we would never meet again. I
had to go back to America at summer's end and they would drift on to
other new friends. It was not the intent of swingers to entertain with
the same people. They preferred newness and anonymity. Bondage
games were most fun, I learned, with someone you didn't know.
Someone whose pussy or penis was exposed to you but whose face was
hidden. And a "newby" or "cherry" like me was most preferred. All this
I was learning slowly as I passed these lazy summer days in and around
Paris. How many 40-something tourists from America, I wondered,
pass through Paris and never learn these things? We saw some of them
that summer, passing in the street, rushing from the Eiffel Tower to
the Palais du Louvre, valiantly photographing everything, yet learning
nothing of the pulsing heart of the city. They gained only a sense of it
in the nightclubs, if they dared to even enter, then flew home again to
their comfortable suburban Puritanism.
Helga met me inside with an exploring kiss of her tongue and a
pat on my bottom.
"Get out of those clothes," she hissed. "Master will be angry if he
sees you like that." I obeyed, stripping off the jacket, blouse, and
narrow stretch pants Marie had given me. We hung them up in a
bedroom closet and Helga reattached my collar about my neck. I was
ready now to be leashed by my master and taken wherever he wished.
We went out to the pool and awaited him.
Master came home in the early evening and came out to the pool to
greet us. Playfully we knelt at his feet and begged to pleasure him. He
laughed, reluctantly refused, then had the oriental girl who was with
him place a towel under us and we knelt down and placed our cheeks on
the towel. He inspected our bottoms and found them pleasingly white.
My heinie still had one or two fading stripes from yesterday but they
would vanish shortly, he said. He complimented us on keeping our
bosoms and bottoms out of the sun. Our legs were crisply brown,
thoughtfully tanned, as were our bellies, arms, and faces. Our hair was
glossy from the sun. We rose again to our knees and he lovingly cupped
each of our bosoms in turn. He held Helga's last.
"I am releasing you," he said, "and your charges, your lovely doves.
It is premature I know, but a friend is flying in from Russia with girls
who have never seen the West before. I must, ah, accommodate them.
It would be unfair to you for me to keep you any longer."
"I understand," Helga nodded. I felt sadness yet a special thrill.
It was wild to be a captive, but I wanted my freedom too. Where would
we go next, I wondered? Who would we meet? Did I even want any
more of this crazy French lifestyle? I didn't know. My head whirled
with all that had happened to me. All the strange events I'd wandered
into since Julie sat down beside me at the condo pool and uttered that
silly "ooch." I rubbed my bottom thoughtfully. Never had I imagined
what could be done to it in the name of love. Master brought me out of
my thoughts by lifting my chin and bending down and kissing me on the
lips.
"Goodbye," I lisped, and together we tongued the insides of each
other's mouths. Then he bade us to stand, said he had another
engagement, and hurried off with his faithful bikinied oriental. We
mulled about for a minute by the pool, lost, abandoned sheep. Then
Helga suddenly pushed Julie and I into the pool! We spent a final half
hour there, laughing and splashing, still wearing our heels in the water.
30
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