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Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
CUNT CASTLE
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Chapter Five
The five of us squeezed into the back seat of the limo. I think it
made us feel more secure somehow, going off into the night, with nothing
to protect us except our faithful driver. He would shadow us, Rose said, to
keep us out of danger.
ÒBut still, we must have our wits about us. Men will be men, you
know. LetÕs support each other and help each other. And weÕll definitely
team up on any women who bug us.Ó
ÒYes!Ó we all agreed. So this would be a real nightclub, not
something specially arranged by Rose with one of her customers. It would
be just us in our teensy bikinis against all the world. I shivered at the
thought. Mine didnÕt even cover my bottom properly, but Rose assured me
that everyone would be really cool and as daringly dressed as I.
ÒThe beach atmosphere is totally liberating,Ó Rose told me. ÒThe
cover charge where weÕre going is $200.00 per person, so you can rest
assured we wonÕt be partying with mulish college boys on spring break. On
the other hand, drug lords can afford to get in sometimes, and their
cronies, so donÕt think you can just let your guard down completely. And
women are always bitchy.Ó Polly nodded.
ÒYes, they always take too LONG sitting on the commode!Ó Polly said,
brushing back her hair and sticking her nose up.
ÒCommode! Where did you learn that?Ó I asked her.
ÒI know big words, Furry,Ó Polly told me, using my nickname. I
wasnÕt as furry as Rose, but I guess I did have more now than when I was
10. So, furry it was, even though most men might say I needed a little
more.
ÒHow do you spell it?Ó I asked her.
ÒCommode,Ó Polly said with an important air. ÒC- um, O and, M and,
uh, MODE!Ó Polly announced.
ÒCan you spell potty?Ó I teased.
ÒNo, but I can SMELL potty!Ó Polly said, giggling, and I had to pinch
her for that. For which she started pulling my hair.
ÒGirls! Girls!Ó Rose admonished us. She handed us lipstick. ÒHere,
put on your makeup. We donÕt want to be outshone at the cabana. And
brush your hair.Ó She put down a vanity mirror for us, concealed in the
ceiling. She and Joanne and Sylvia shared lipstick. Polly and I dutifully
made ourselves up and brushed out our hair. We did not bother to pin it up,
although Rose piled hers atop her head to give herself a regal look. Sylvia
did the same, then insisted on making JoanneÕs brown hair into braids. It
was strange to see them without their bottoms and bosoms bare. Polly
and I still wore our wristlets and anklets of steel, and our collars. We
wanted to take them off but Rose said no.
As I contemplated the effect my collar and bracelets would have on
the people at the cabana, Polly began counting stars. We sat beside each
other. Rose said it would take awhile to reach the cabana. It was farther
away than the saloon. Soon I found myself counting stars with Polly to
ease my misgivings.
Gradually the lights of the city became a dim glow in the distance.
The twinkled like some distant Bethlehem, then like Jerusalem, perhaps,
and finally like New York City, although we were of course quite far away
from all those destinations. The light from the city began to overshadow
the stars and finally Polly and I couldnÕt see them well enough any more to
count. WeÕd lost count, anyway, and set instead to figuring out the
constellations. Polly found what she thought was a bull, with a rather
large endowment where it mattered. All I could see was a snake winding
across the heavens, poised to bite me.
Rose handed out shoes for each of us, plus a towel to wipe our feet
with. I passed the towel through my toes, savoring the feel of it. It was
hot. Rose had kept it in a little steamer. There were three towels in all.
We shared them.
ÒI sent the driver to pick up the best possible shoes for dancing in,Ó
Rose said. ÒGiven, of course, that they must be high heels. It wouldnÕt be
proper for us to dance in anything less, I donÕt think.Ó
I looked at my pair. They were very nice. Open toed, open heeled,
with straps to tie round my ankles, over my anklet bracelets. I helped
Polly tie hers on and she helped me with mine. We threaded them through
clasps on our leg manacles to make them more difficult to take off.
ÒIf a man canÕt get your shoes off he wonÕt try to put you in bed,Ó
Polly intoned, sharing some old wives tale from primary school. She told
me she and her friends used to double-knot their tennies before walking
home from school. I simply nodded. It was no use arguing with her. She
was always certain of what she told me, until, that is, experience proved
her wrong. Like a child sure that gum wonÕt stick in her hair, or that the
oven isnÕt really so hot, or that you canÕt wet your panties if you hold your
breath. There was no way to prove her wrong on this point with just five
women in the car, so I skipped it.
The buildings of the city finally enveloped us. We travelled over a
bridge and found ourselves at once within canyon walls of windowed
concrete. I gazed up at them. Behind each was a different story, I knew.
Somewhere someone was fucking, no doubt, gazing down at our limo,
perhaps, as it passed. A rush of cars swept us along the street and we
sped like flotsam, I thought, being just a passenger, to our destination.
We pulled up to a busy sidewalk. The driver got out amidst swirls of
people. They were dressed mostly in tropical clothes. The beach was
nearby. Some people wore just their swimsuits, nothing more, for which I
was grateful. Our driver opened the door where Polly and I sat. We were
the first to get out. I felt the eyes of the passersby staring into the vee
of my legs as I got up from the seat of the limo and exited through the
door. Rose followed quickly, ushered us forward. Joanne and Sylvia
followed. The club was only a few steps away. We crossed the sidewalk,
and Rose placed a wad of bills in the doormanÕs open palm. He was dressed
like a royal servant, with top hat, gloves, long boots and a long tailed
jacket. He nodded, passed the money to a woman behind a window. She
counted it quickly as we passed through the door to the club, a glass door
that a second doorman opened for us. He was dressed as the first. Nobody
checked our I.D., although it would be saying too much of the doormanÕs
manners to say he didnÕt check us out.
I found myself huddled with Rose and Polly and Joanne and Sylvia
inside a large lobby with flashing strobe lights. In the center, people
were dancing. Beyond a band played. Above us was a balcony of glass,
where yet more people danced. It stretched around the four walls of the
club and, looking up, polly and I found ourselves staring straight into the
crotches of women and men. Most wore swimsuits, like we did, although a
few more modest dancers wore clothes. A waitress passed overhead,
wearing a miniskirt, but it was quite useless with Polly and I staring
straight up from below.
ÒShe doesnÕt have any panties on!Ó Polly cried, pointing upward.
ÒBe good dear,Ó Rose told her. ÒPlease donÕt point at peopleÕs
genitals.Ó She herded us toward the dance floor, while the doorman whoÕd
let us in nodded to another who approached Rose and asked her which table
sheÕd like. There were round tables scattered about, many of them filled.
The ones that were empty belonged to dancers.
ÒWhichever one is closest to the floor,Ó Rose said to the man.
Despite her bikini, she had a purse with her. A small, leather one, black as
her suit. She handed it to the man to use to mark our table with. She kept
it in the limo for just such uses, she told me.
ÒItÕs got a few condoms in it if you meet someone really special,Ó
she confided.
ÒA few what?Ó Polly asked. Joanne and Sylvia had gone dancing with
Rose before. They did not pay any attention, knowing already what Rose
was telling me.
ÒYou know, rubbers,Ó I told Polly.
ÒGood,Ó she replied. ÒI shoot rubber bands at the boys at school
when they bother me!Ó
ÒNot rubber-Ó I began, but gave up. I had no real interest in shouting
over the music about condoms, especially as several eager men were
already approaching us.
ÒGood evening, gentlemen. IÕm the chaperone for these girls. Would
you like to ask them something?Ó Rose said with a smile. Joanne and
Sylvia, not included in RoseÕs little introduction, let themselves be led
away by men who slipped up alongside them. As for Polly and I, we found
ourselves staring at two extremely studly dudes who vied, at that
moment, with Louis and Andre and Jack for my liking. They wore
abbreviated swimsuits within which their balls and organs seemed to be
almost bristling. The nearest had on a cut-off t-shirt, showing me his
belly, while PollyÕs suitor wore an open vest. I wondered if he were gay.
They both looked to be in their early 20Õs, just old enough to know when to
hold and to fold, I suspected, and the thought excited me. To my surprise
Rose approached the one I was contemplating and pointedly stuck her
finger in the front of his suit. Pulling it open, she stared right down into
his equipment. I wished I could see, but he was just a little too far back
from me. I would have to rely on RoseÕs judgement.
ÒWell, you certainly LOOK healthy,Ó Rose said to the young man. A
girl came up between them, missing her bra, wearing just bikini panties.
Her breasts jogged easily on her chest. She wore long glass earrings.
They looked almost penis-shaped. Her lips were wet and open. I felt an
urge to stick my finger in her mouth and watch her suck it.
ÒHi,Ó she said to me, her voice soft despite the amplified music. Yet
I could hear her. I could read her lips. She seemed utterly unaffected. She
was no more than 16. I felt a kinship with her. She glanced along the
nearest boyÕs belly into the suit Rose still was inspecting.
ÒOooh, cool,Ó the girl sighed. She brushed a hand along her belly. It
was flat, with the gentlest of swelling right where her navel was, as if to
promise something to us all if she were fucked.
Rose let the manÕs suit snap shut. ÒYou have permission to dance
with my charges,Ó Rose told him.
ÒAre they your daughters?Ó the man asked Rose. She flushed a little.
ÒDo I look that old? No, of course not. TheyÕre not my daughters!Ó
She pushed the first man aside and went to the other. She was no less
frank with him, despite his muscles and his hard-edged demeanor.
ÒYes, I see youÕre well equipped too,Ó Rose complimented the man.
In retaliation he pulled open the front of her bikini bottoms.
ÒMonkey see, monkey do,Ó he said to excuse himself, and looked with
candid ardor at her bush. Rose let her hands drop to her sides and did not
protest.
ÒDo you like what you see?Ó she asked, laughing, as he held open her
front.
ÒIÕll kiss it for you,Ó the man said. Rose smiled, looked at me. I
tried not to blush. Gently the man placed RoseÕs panties back against her
delta. Then he placed a finger beneath her and felt between her legs.
ÒYour swimsuitÕs moist,Ó he said. Rose looked at me again.
ÒDid you wet your panties?Ó Polly asked Rose with wide eyes.
ÒGo dance, dear,Ó Rose replied.
The man I thought would take Polly went instead for Rose. They
began swaying to the beat of the music as Polly and I joined the guy with
the cutoff tee.
ÒWhatÕs your name?Ó he asked each of us, telling us he was Brad.
The girl introduced herself as Cheyenne. Another male, seeing the surfeit
of females around Brad, soon joined us. We minded not. He was Darwin, a
blonde surfer, with trunks as full as BradÕs.
I noticed the floor we were dancing on was strangely modern-
looking. It seemed to have pegged holes in it every few inches. They were
covered with mesh, I saw, as I bent down to look. Strange, but I had no
explanation for them. I had to pull my swimsuit up when I straightened
my back. The slightest bow in my frame, the littlest bending over, and it
slipped further down my heinie, exposing my white cheeks.
ÒYour daughter has a lovely ass,Ó Brad told Rose as we found
ourselves dancing within earshot.
ÒSheÕs going to have it whipped later tonight,Ó Rose confided. I
blushed. Rose indicated Polly and said she would be treated the same.
Brad seemed shocked. His cock grew, straining his swimsuit. He became
noticeably uncomfortable from his erection.
ÒI hope the suds start soon,Ó he said.
ÒSuds?Ó I asked.
ÒYouÕll see,Ó Cheyenne assured me. ÒAny minute now.Ó
Suddenly, even as she spoke, a spray of water erupted from the floor.
Squirting fountains began shooting up and wetting our bodies. They didnÕt
spurt high enough to hit our faces, but I found my crotch and my belly
getting rained upon. Even my breasts were not out of reach of the higher
spurts. Cheyenne laughed, jiggled her tits. The water was not a thorough,
unrelenting spray, like a fountain, but rather a series of distinct streams
emanating from the floor. There were just enough of them, though, that
there was no escaping being wettened. And for each fountain of water
there was, right beside it, a fountain spraying some kind of liquid cream.
It smelled like Cool-Whip and I knew now why the cover charge was
$200.00. Somebody must have bought an awful lot of it to spray it on us
so freely.
ÒTake off your bottoms,Ó Cheyenne urged me. She loosed her own as
she spoke. Feeling uninhibited in all the spurting cream, I ran my fingers
over my drawstrings and tugged at them. I felt my heinie become more
exposed than ever, and, worse, my pussy too. Cream shot up and hit my
cunny as my panties fell away. Not wanting to be alone, I reached over and
grabbed teasingly at PollyÕs panties. She tried to resist but, for some
reason, fought with only half her strength and I had hers undone in no time.
Brad laughed and yanked down his Speedos. His cock, so eager to
break free, sprang up and was immediately anointed with Cool-Whip. He
let his balls swing over the spray and they got a baptism of their own. I
reached back and undid my top and let it flutter away. I felt like an
Indian, naked as Cheyenne, and I made sure PollyÕs top came off too. We
danced away from our things. I knew I should recover them from the floor
but the whole atmosphere was so heady I just didnÕt care. I wiggled my
tits and felt their freedom. Brad watched with mesmerized eyes.
ÒI love you, Brad,Ó I called to him. Laughing, I asked, ÒWhatÕs your
last name?Ó
ÒPitt,Ó he replied.
ÒLiar,Ó I giggled.
ÒLiar yourself, whatÕs your last name?Ó he asked me above the din of
the music.
ÒLiar, liar, ass on fire!Ó I shouted, and I reached back and whacked
his naked haunches. He shouted, grabbed me, and I let him pull me close. I
felt my breasts crush themselves against his chest as he aimed for my
mouth with his tongue and found it. Beyond us Polly and Cheyenne were
drawn close by Darwin and he stood feeling their bottoms as he kissed
them.
ÒLetÕs fuck,Ó Brad begged me.
ÒI donÕt know,Ó I replied. I wished only to dance, kiss a little,
perhaps. But then again, my thoughts whirling, I could feel him snake-like
against my belly, so hard, so very impressive.
A womanÕs hand, its nails long and chiseled, placed itself softly on
my fanny. I broke my mouth from BradÕs, turned. It was Rose.
ÒCome,Ó she said. She interrupted Darwin and Polly also and, with
our new friends accompanying us, she led us up some steps to a private
room, retrieving her purse first, in case we needed PollyÕs Ôrubber bands.Õ
We entered into a small room with a crackling fireplace. I let
myself be drawn to it. The water had been chilly and I felt grateful for
the fire. I extended my hands to it, standing before it, and let the heat
bathe my tummy. Then I turned around and offered it my ass.
Rose found a pile of towels and passed them around. We stood drying
ourselves before the warmth of the fire. I felt romantic. I was glad the
water had not wet my hair. Polly found a large cowboy hat and, perhaps to
regain just a touch of modesty, she plopped it on her head.
ÒOh, whatÕs that?Ó she asked, adjusting her hat. She pointed to a
leather stool in the corner. It was shaped like a saddle and it had a
pommel with reins. Polly wandered over to it.
ÒYou donÕt want to sit on that, darling,Ó Rose cautioned. ÒItÕs an
electric bucking bronco. Someone must have decided to store it here.Ó
But Polly was curious. The padded stool with the pommel was too
tall for her to mount standing on the floor. She placed both her hands up
on the seat, and then lifted a foot and stuck it in a stirrup that dangled
down along the side of the stool. The thing was a real-looking saddle, I
had to admit, complete with everything but the horse itself. But why
would anyone mount it on a stool?
Darwin eased himself over to Polly and offered to help her up. She
accepted, and he hoisted her bottom up for her so that she could settle
herself in the saddle. She looked just like a cowgirl and, clearly enjoying
herself, she pulled the chin strap of her hat down below her chin so she
wouldnÕt lose it.
Polly picked up the reins that dangled down from the pommel in
front of the stool. Holding them aloft in her hands, she began to bounce
her ass up and down on the smooth leather saddle. It was padded, but
stiffly soft, so that her bottom did not sink down into it but was
nonetheless not discomfited as she bounced up and down.
ÒGiddap, giddap! Go, pony, go!Ó Polly shouted happily. She turned to
Rose. ÒI want to GO someplace!Ó she whined. ÒOn my horsey.Ó She was
being utterly childish again, but, judging from the mesmerized look on
Brad and DarwinÕs faces, they didnÕt mind in the least.
Rose whispered to the boys and their eyes lit up. With quick steps
they approached PollyÕs Ôhorse.Õ As Polly watched, curious and, I think, a
little randy from the dancing, they buckled her legs below the knee into
leather straps that hung from the sides of the stool. I hadnÕt taken note of
them earlier. They sprouted from the sides of the stool, right where
PollyÕs calves were, and it was the easiest of things for Brad and Darwin
to Ôbuckle her upÕ, one might say, as she sat watching them.
Rose glided over to the front of the stool and picked up a little
control box. Wires ran from it to the underside of the saddle. A tube hung
down beneath the underside of the saddle, and I wondered what was in it.
ÒPolly, did you ever ride on a horsey at the grocery?Ó Rose asked.
ÒÔCourse!Ó Polly replied, quite confident now. She was the center of
attention and loving every minute of it. ÒIs this ride sort of like that?Ó
ÒYes, sort of,Ó Rose grinned. I began to suspect something fishy lay
in wait in the tube beneath the saddle. Rose looked at Cheyenne. The girl
smiled, perhaps knowing, perhaps simply happy.
The stool began moving.
ÒOh, goody!Ó Polly cried. She bounced in time with it, first
exaggerating its own movements, then soon finding herself bounced by it,
and quite vigorously. Rose slowed the stool to a stop.
ÒKeep going!Ó Polly insisted.
ÒOh, donÕt worry, Polly.Ó Rose replied. ÒI want you to sit very still
for a minute, O.K.?Ó
ÒO.K., but I donÕt want to have to wait long for my ride,Ó Polly
reminded her.
ÒYou wonÕt,Ó Rose replied. ÒExpect a little visitor, though. Right up
your...Ó
ÒOh!Ó Polly shouted. Rose motioned for Cheyenne and I to hold down
her thighs. We rushed up to her, too amused not to. I could guess now
what was about to happen, and Cheyenne could too. A fake penis was going
to nose its way up her cunt!
ÒYo, yo, yo, NO!Ó Polly squealed, looking uncertain at first, feeling
something begin to poke at her from below. She seemed to me like a child
awaiting its poop, except in her case something was going up, not down.
ÒYAAAK! Not in my bottom!Ó Polly suddenly screeched. I felt my
eyes bulge even as I watched her own do the same. Up her bottom? Was
the thing really going to take her anal virginity?
ÒI picked the slim one, Polly. Behave!Ó Rose called from where she
stood operating the control box.
ÒNooo, nooo, nooo, nooOOOH!Ó Polly hooted, while Cheyenne and I
began laughing so hard we could barely keep her down. I felt my tits
jiggling on my chest and knew the men were delighted to see me so happy.
ÒItÕs going too far upppp,Ó Polly yelled as she lifted her chin up and
wiggled her ass, trying to escape the insidious penis.
ÒYouÕve only two inches, Polly, and itÕs quite slender. Enjoy
yourself. ItÕs your first time,Ó Rose told her. But PollyÕs cries grew ever
louder, though they were not of pain, just great anxiety. When Cheyenne
and I felt she could no longer buck up and escape the intruder, we let go.
Instantly she yanked up her thighs and I peeked beneath her bottom. A
Slim-Jim sized cock was worming its way into her heinie and she could
not get rid of it. Polly clenched her cheeks, trying to stop it, but it was
heavily greased and rose with implacable vigor.
Seeing that Polly was quite ready for her ride now, Rose began the
machine. The saddle began bouncing her up and down, just like before, but
now each pounding that her bottom suffered upon it rammed the rising
tube deeper into her ass. I heard Rose click off the switch for the penis
finally, leaving Polly to bounce on its full length, utterly penetrated now,
despite her endlessly compressing cheeks. In fact each bounce of the
stool caused her cheeks to briefly release themselves, making her look
silly as her cheeks sprang open and closed, showing her asscrack to us.
ÒGEEE-YAAAAAÓ Polly hollered as the mechanical bull sprang up and
down with unrelenting force. Her boobs juddered like cream puffs as she
took her unwanted ÔrideÕ upon it. ÒLet-me-offff!Ó Polly pleaded, but Rose
was not about to allow that. We watched, fascinated, as Polly found
herself a penetrated cowgirl, getting fucked by the fake cock up her ass
with every bounding leap of the stool. I migrated to Brad and stroked his
cock. We shared glances. I looked down at his tool and wished there was
some way I could mount the stool and simultaneously have his cock inside
me. He smiled, cupped my bottom, eased his finger between my cheeks. I
drew them in a little but allowed him to find my hole at last. He explored
its rubbery rim with an inquiring digit. Did he want to stick this big
pecker of his up my heinie? I shuddered. I didnÕt really want that. The
Ôold-fashioned wayÕ would be fine with me.
Cheyenne entertained DarwinÕs prick as well as DaveÕs. He was the
man with the cut-off t-shirt. HeÕd since taken it off. It lay discarded
somewhere on the dance floor, I suspected. Along with our panties and
bras. I was feeling deliciously free tonight. I wanted Brad inside me, and
told him so.
ÒCheyenne, I want you on the horse next,Ó Rose told her.
Cheyenne looked up from her twin cocks and there was a reluctant
look on her face. She brushed back her hair. The bull slowed its bucking
and Polly subsided on it, quivering still from her journey.
ÒOnly if you take me back to your castle with you,Ó Cheyenne told
Rose.
Rose looked her over, considering. It was, I think, the first time
Rose had really taken note of the girl. She was in fact very beautiful,
with a snub nose and wide eyes and long brown tresses that got caught on
her nipples whenever she turned her head. Her bosoms sported stiff tips,
excited and ready for sex. She palmed her ass, almost sensing RoseÕs next
sentence.
ÒOnly if you agree to be a love slave there,Ó Rose replied.
ÒOh!Ó Cheyenne gasped. It was as if sheÕd been pierced with her
deepest, most haunting fantasy. ÒWould you whip me?Ó Her fingers
pressed into her soft white bottom cheeks, gripping them, parting the
cheeks, so that I could at last see her hole as she anxiously contemplated
her choices. Brad had made me bend over and take his tool in his mouth, so
that I found myself with an unexpectedly candid view of her nether
cheeks, and stared wonderingly at them, waiting to hear if sheÕd let Rose
enslave her.
ÒTurn around. Let me see your bottom,Ó Rose told Cheyenne.
Bashfully she complied. But she let go of her cheeks first, and when she
offered Rose a view of her bottom it was with an ass huddling in on itself.
ÒHmmm, nice and round,Ó Rose said, surveying CheyenneÕs derriere.
ÒYou have a gorgeous bottom, honey,Ó Rose admitted at last. ÒIt would be
unthinkable not to give it a good thrashing. Probably at a party, letting
everyone participate. How lovely youÕd look receiving it, too! Have you
never been punished on your bottom before?Ó
ÒNo...never,Ó Cheyenne said, and spun back around so that Rose could
see her no more.
ÒGet on the horse, dear,Ó Rose said simply. She nodded to Darwin and
Dave. They led Cheyenne to the bronco, her feet tripping over themselves a
little, her hand hovering by her throat as she realized sheÕd just let
herself in for a whole new life. I think she was a little high on Ecstasy or
something, but it made no difference to Rose. She hadnÕt drugged the girl.
If she awoke in the morning and protested in finding herself at the castle,
all the better. Recalcitrant girls were especially fun for Rose. And, I
suspected, for helpers like Joanne and Sylvia too. I wondered where they
were now. Probably in a room close by, getting theirs. I hoped they didnÕt
need any condoms. We had RoseÕs purse.
Brad was obviously ready. I walked to RoseÕs purse and rummaged
inside for a condom for him. After all, I didnÕt know his last name. I
might not see him after tonight. Best not to take any chances, though I
had, obviously, taken a few before. But I was older now. I knew better.
He was just some dude that Rose had briefly inspected. For VD, I guessed
now, as much as for anything else. HeÕd been oozing pre-cum when we
met, from the stain I remembered seeing on the front of his Speedos. IÕd
been too excited by the music, the lights, to really understand what Rose
had been doing. But now I knew. I chose a pre-lubricated condom from her
purse, one colored red, and returned to Brad.
ÒYou donÕt mind, do you?Ó I asked, tearing open the packet. My
breasts jiggled on my chest.
ÒGo ahead,Ó Brad agreed. As Dave and Darwin helped Polly get loose
from her perch I slid the condom on Brad. He almost came as I handled
him, he was so eager for me.
ÒWait a minute, kids. WeÕre going to do something together,Ó Rose
told us. I smiled. Rose was always up to something. To keep Brad
tempted I ran my fingers along his sheathed cock once I had him all suited
up. He passed his hand between my legs and teased my spot to distraction.
Polly wobbled over to Rose. She sank down to the womanÕs feet and
placed the cheek of her face upon her toes. She looked like a little baby,
curling up at RoseÕs feet. Her bottom pointed toward us and I saw it
looked well poked. There was a brown smear around her hole and the
insidious thing had, apparently, jetted something up into her in the last
moments of her ride. Rose, obviously, had found a switch for sperming
girls on the stool. Cheyenne would be next.
Dave and Darwin mounted her up. I watched as her legs parted wide
to accommodate the seat between them. She settled into it, adjusted
herself, reached back and felt her bottom. In a moment the prick that had
lodged itself in Polly would do her, and she knew it. In its housing beneath
the stool, I guessed, it lay waiting in disinfectant. Then, poking up
through the seat again, it would be greased as it rose through the tube,
emerging at last cock-sure and ready to fuck again.
Rose took off PollyÕs cowboy hat. The girl did not protest. She was
exhausted from her ride. Especially the terror of it, being fucked in the
ass for the first time in her life. Now she lay puppy-like at RoseÕs feet.
Rose passed the cowboy hat to cheyenne. Bravely the girl took it,
put it on, even slid the strap under her chin so it wouldnÕt fly off.
ÒFleury, Polly, letÕs each kneel and take a man up our bottom at the
same time Cheyenne gets fucked on the stool,Ó Rose suggested. There was
a wicked gleam in her eye and I liked it.
ÒAlright,Ó I agreed. She passed me a fresh towel for comfort and I
spread it out on the floor. There was no furniture in the room. Just the
bronco, which IÕd thought useless at first, the fireplace, and plenty of
towels. And a wet bar, which none of us had yet bothered to use.
I knelt and offered Brad my bottom. Just like that. As a female
might do in the jungle. Rose spread out a towel for herself and knelt with
the control box in her hands. Polly declared that she would not
participate. She remained fetal-like, showing us her bottom but insisting
it not be touched.
ÒSuit yourself,Ó Rose replied. Dave had found Rose first so he got
dibs on her rear. Darwin settled for RoseÕs mouth, and seemed to prefer
her accessibility to PollyÕs stubbornness. Some men like a challenge,
others are just looking for a wet hole, I guess. It was not a bad choice.
Rose drew him into her mouth, commenting over his prick that he must not
let himself interfere with her use of the control box for the bronco. Dave,
meanwhile, having gotten a condom and lubricant from her purse, prepared
to mount her ass.
I felt BradÕs cock bump up against my hole. He was kneeling behind
me now, as Dave lowered himself to the floor to do Rose. Darwin was
already enjoying RoseÕs succulent mouth. She was an expert at ÔblowingÕ
men and she used him with her lips even as her hands remained on the
control box.
ÒI expect sheÕs very good,Ó I called out to Darwin, feeling Brad at my
rear. ÒLet her control you and youÕll last a nice long time, IÕll bet.Ó
ÒI hope so! This is heaven!Ó Darwin answered me. I liked him. He
was just a big blonde, dumb dude. He had a grin on his face as wide as the
Cheshire CatÕs and I hoped someday I could show as much skill as Rose did.
She blew him gently, licking his cock and then puffing on it, stopping a
moment, then inhaling him deeply, right back against her throat. Polly
blubbered from her place on the floor, little snivelling sounds that I
expected were invitations to Darwin to take her instead. But Darwin was
supremely happy with his manhood in RoseÕs mouth and Polly, poor soul,
would lose this battle to her own stubbornness. For once nobody would
command her to obey, and sheÕd find she didnÕt like that, after all.
Rose started the bronco. At once Cheyenne began bouncing, lightly,
while at the same time she felt the nozzled penis enquiring in her ass.
Unlike Polly, she reached back and opened her bottomcheeks to receive it
more easily. There was no use fighting against something you couldnÕt
control. I wondered if IÕd have that much courage if I was put on the
horse.
BradÕs cockhead dug into my bottom. I took a deep breath and tried
to relax. I knew this would hurt some, but IÕd taken Andre just the night
before and survived. Now it was BradÕs turn. I felt used, like a whore, but
he didnÕt seem to mind, and he drove into me so hard I had to ball my hand
into a fist and bite it.
ÒGood, good, donÕt spare her. She needs to learn,Ó Rose told Brad.
She held DarwinÕs cock aloft, twixt her fingers, as she spoke. Like a cigar.
I wished she hadnÕt encouraged Brad for he took hold of my hips and
rammed me back upon his tool, going still deeper. I shouted. It felt like
some huge cork was being stoppered up my ass. Briefly I wondered if IÕd
somehow get stuck on him.
Rose yelped as Dave took her with more vigor than sheÕd expected.
Even as Brad reamed me, and the horse did Cheyenne, bouncing her more
jubilantly, making her cry out with shock, Rose got hers too. We were
three females, submitting to love, and finding it more gruelling than ever
weÕd hoped. The men, mechanical or real, were lusty and hard and not to
be taken lightly. I wished Brad would shoot. I tightened my cheeks on him
but he overcame me, urging me, kissing me now, leaning close and cupping
my breasts. In the corner of my eye I saw Polly had begun to masturbate
herself. Rose would scold her later for that, I was sure, doing herself
when a man had been available for her.
I rode Brad and Rose rode upon Dave as Cheyenne found her anus fully
invaded by the horse. Amidst gasps and cries and screams of pleasure and
just a touch of pain, we ran our course. At last we lay touching and
kissing upon the towels, spent, happy. Rose eventually got up and served
us drinks. Cheyenne, let down from the horse, consoled herself in the
arms of Polly, and we ended the night watching the two of them wriggle
into a spontaneous 69. Neither of them knew what it was called. They
simply found comfort in their shared experience, their shared anal
torment upon the horse. Their kisses evolved into licks and finally into
the deepest embrace of all, with each of them putting their noses up the
othersÕ slit. On the ride back to the castle they both sat quite bashfully.
They put the entire length of the limo seat between themselves. They did
not want to be thought lesbians, and none of us, not even me, accused them
of it.
Eventually, as the limo rolled along, Polly fell asleep. Her head
drooped as she rode beside me and I watched as her eyelids fluttered
closed. Soon her head was on my shoulder. I patted her hair. It was best,
I thought, given what Rose kept promising us. I glanced up at her. She
gazed ahead, saying nothing. Sylvia mixed drinks for us.
ÒHave a little something, Fleury,Ó Rose said to me. I knew why. To
lessen the agony of the whipping. I accepted, quietly. I sipped it. ÒDrink
it all. YouÕll need it,Ó Rose told me. We wore towels about ourselves. Our
bikinis were lost, strewn back at the cabana on the dancefloor someplace.
Being stepped on, perhaps, as the night wound down.
In a second seat, farther up, Joanne had stretched out. SheÕd been
given over to a gang-bang by Sylvia at the club. Six men had gone down on
her, while Sylvia prepped them, each in turn, Joanne tied over a trestle so
she couldnÕt refuse. When all had been spent, save the last, Sylvia took
him for herself.
We arrived at the castle. The moon was already set. I looked up as
we got out and thought I saw bats flutter upward, high in the castle
towers. IÕd not been up there. I half expected to see myself, letting down
my hair, begging to be freed.
The driver carried Polly to her room. We parted company at the top
of the stairs. Sylvia, still chipper, took me to my own room. We walked in
silence. She put me in the bathroom and I sat on the furred seat of the
potty, fretting, while she ran a bath for me. She helped me into it when it
was ready and slipped into the warm waters with me and bathed me. I felt
limp. She washed me like a little girl might wash a doll. She was very
attentive, shampooing my hair, scrubbing me right down to my toes, doing
my back and my bottom for me. Afterward, when IÕd been rinsed and
toweled dry, she had me sit on the potty again. She placed a soft
washcloth on it first, because when I first sat on it I still had sperm
dripping from my hiney-hole from being fucked by Brad. WeÕd kissed
goodbye, promised to meet there again, but I doubted we ever would. He
was just my lover for the night, though IÕd liked him very much. I belonged
to Louis. And I was about to suffer for his love as I never had before.
As I sat on the pottyÕs seat Sylvia did my makeup. She worked
diligently, until everything was quite impeccable. YouÕd have thought IÕd
been going to a grand ball, not simply to bed. Then she stood me up, and
walked me to the bed. I got in, slowly, letting her pull down the covers
first. When IÕd laid down she pulled my hands up and over my head and
bound them to the back of my collar. I was imprisoned now. I still had my
feet, but I knew sheÕd lock the door when she left. She kissed me
goodnight. I could not resist her lips, with my hands bound behind me. She
drew up the covers over me. Then she pulled back the curtain to let in the
night air and the stars.
ÒDonÕt jump out the window,Ó she teased.
ÒI want to,Ó I confessed. She kissed me again.
ÒDonÕt worry,Ó she said. ÒIn the morning it will all be over. Try to
get some sleep. WaitingÕs no fun.Ó
I promised myself IÕd stay wide awake. Slowly, though, exhaustion
crept up on me. It might have taken only 15 minutes, perhaps a half hour.
When I next regained consciousness it was with a jolt, as delicate fingers
drew my covers down.
ÒAre you Branson?Ó I asked sleepily. I found myself staring into the
deep blue eyes of a young, vivacious blonde.
ÒIÕm his niece,Ó she told me. To my surprise I saw she was dressed
in a playsuit. ÒBransonÕs doing Polly,Ó she told me simply. ÒBut IÕll be
tougher, I can assure you. I know how much a woman can really take.Ó I
gazed at her with astonished eyes. She bent over me, confident, self-
possessed. Her hair was perfect, long and blonde with gentle flowing
curls in it. Her teeth were white. Her playsuit, white with little red
velvet triangles, fit her like a glove. There was not much to it. A simple
band of fabric, quite thin, looped round behind her neck. Then, in front, the
playsuit looked a bit like a one-piece swimsuit, except that nothing
covered her breasts except small lace-edged cups. They were held up by
the strip of fabric round her neck. Otherwise, they would have fallen right
down. Nothing covered her shoulders, her back, or even her front, except a
narrow strip of sheer, rose-patterned nylon that ran from her nothing bra
cups down to her pubic mound, where it slipped back between her legs to
meet a single thread-like strip of lace that crossed entirely around her
waist. One other thread-like strip crossed round behind her, joining the
base of the bra cups just like a swimsuit top did. You could almost say
that she wore a bikini, except it was made of lace and connected in front
by the narrow strip of sheer nylon that ran down from her breasts, over
her tummy, to meet her delta.
Where her delta was a red satin triangle beckoned. ItÕs color was in
sharp contrast to the whiteness of the rose-patterned nylon that made up
the playsuit. I saw that a tiny white bow held up the red triangle. Untie
it, and you had immediate access to her pubis. The same held true for her
bra cups. White nylon circled her breasts, decorating them, but in the
middle a slender triangle was tied up over each of her bosoms. Untie each
of them, and her boobs would fall out and hang free. Of course, she was
young, no more than 19, so her breasts jutted against the red satin
triangles like juggernauts waiting to be launched into the sea. Each
movement of her nubile form sent those twin rocket tits joggling softly
over me, the red satin triangles straining to contain them.
ÒYou have a cute playsuit,Ó was all I could say, looking up at her.
She had on long crystal earrings that dangled freely from her ears and
made little tinkling sounds, like chimes. Elbow length gloves, not quite
reaching all the way to her elbows, accented the red in her playsuit. While
they were red, her thigh-high stockings were white. She was a true
playmate, laced up with all the trimmings. But in her hand she held a
birch rod. It had a little red and white lace bow tied at the handle end,
while a spray of fresh birches stemmed out from the handle and hung
loosely over my eyes.
ÒWhen I get hot from whipping you I can untie the triangles, see?Ó
BransonÕs niece teased me. She tugged slightly at the white bow that held
up the red satin triangle over her nearest breast. ÒAnd later, if I get
really hot, I can of course untie myself down here too,Ó she added,
pointing down toward her delta with her finger. Then she carefully laid
her birch rod aside and lifted me up from the bed. I helped a little,
scrambling up with my feet, trying to find purchase on the sheets. It was
hard, with my hands bound so ruthlessly over my head and behind my neck.
She got me completely standing up, right on the bed, as if I were a 6-year-
old playing games. She made sure I planted my feet solidly on the sheets.
I wore no shoes. With the care of an X-Ray technician she positioned me,
leaning me forward a little. Then she snapped a bar out from the wall and
fixed it to the front of my dog collar. I was caught now, a fish hooked on a
stiff pole. She pried open my mouth and snapped a small piece of wood up
from the surface of the horizontal pole. This little piece, angled upward,
she fitted into my mouth. It had a red ball on the end of itself. When I
was gagged on the rubber ball she strung a strap round the back of my
head, running it under my hair as best she could. The strap, attached to
the base of the rubber ball, kept me attached to it.
ÒCan you breathe O.K.?Ó BransonÕs niece asked me. I tried to nod,
could not, but she got the message. ÒIÕm Bambi,Ó she said to me. ÒJust in
case youÕre wondering. But people have nicknamed me Thumper, as youÕll
soon see why.Ó
I felt like I was at the dentistÕs. A big red ball was stuffed into my
mouth and I was bent forward as if to have my bottom x-rayed. Bambi
examined my bottom next, tracing her gloved fingers over it, prying apart
the cheeks, feeling within my hole a little with her finger. She cupped my
breasts, hefted them in each hand, as if I were livestock having my
essential parts weighed. At last she stroked my thighs, cooing at how
lovely they were, and when her hands reached my juncture she felt a little
for my spot and touched me there, reassuringly, like a dentist might
before he begins drilling.
I gazed out at the night sky. Even the stars seemed to be setting
now, and I hoped morning would arrive before she could get started.
Within the privacy of the canopy she laid out her implements of
flagellation like an artist might lay out his brushes. She gave me a mirror
to watch, and I sometimes did, furtively, glancing off to the side to see
what her reflection was doing. I saw her kneel upon the bed, quite happy
and self-possessed. Among her implements she placed before herself a
cane, several paddles, and three whips. I glanced away, too scared to look.
My bottom cheeks bunched together. I felt my white ass flesh jiggling
with nervous fear.
Bambi brushed back her hair. She selected the birch rod first, with
awful nubs. She was kneeling, and seemed excited. She untied both her
bra triangles as she knelt behind me, staring at my bottom. I saw her tits
spring out and they quivered with lovely grace. Oh, how could one girl do
this to another?
Taking a perfume spray bottle, Bambi misted a scent of sweet
perfume onto my bare fanny. Then she put down the bottle and I thought I
saw her rub herself a little where her red satin triangle was pulled up
over her cunny. Was she aroused by the thought of whipping me? I tried to
speak, to ask to be let go, but my words came out totally garbled. Bambi
ignored me. She had a heavy pot of brine next to my bed and she leaned
back and dipped her birch branches into it. Then she drew them out,
dripping, and I watched as she brought them hovering over the bed.
Droplets fell on my clean sheets, staining them with salt.
ÒNow, letÕs begin,Ó Bambi said. She drew her hand back and swept
the birch rod up under my outthrust bottom.
ÒYeeoch!Ó I responded at once, arching up on my toes. My bottom
stuck out all the more as I leapt from the blow.
ÒOne down, 200 to go,Ó Bambi giggled to herself. I thought she
passed a fleet hand over her cunny again. With practised grace she re-
dipped the birch rod. She trailed it back across the bed, leaving droplets
again. IÕd look like IÕd wet the bed if she kept this up. But then, that
would be the least of my troubles, wouldnÕt it? ÒYouÕll have such lovely
marks to show off to everyone tomorrow,Ó Bambi told me. Then, with me
feeling ever-more like a bottom, nothing else, she whacked me right on my
heinie again.
ÒOoochch!Ó I yelped, my gag silencing me. Only the most primitive
sound escaped my lips, not the distinct sound IÕd intended. I was cultured
no more. I was just meat now, an outjutting ass waiting to be punished.
ÒAh, delicious!Ó Bambi told me. ÒI love how your bottom retracts
when youÕre waiting for it. It wonÕt save you, of course. But itÕs pretty.Ó
She dipped the birch again and gave me another blow, harder now, making
me really strain up on my toes and almost ram the gag down my throat.
ÒAHCHCHCH!Ó I said, nearly choking, or so I imagined, on the big red
ball that kept my lips pried apart. I squeezed my hind cheeks to try to
throw off some of the stinging. Bambi reached up and palmed my cheeks
with her gloved hands. Her touch was bitter, reminding me of the birchÕs
imprint. Such soft gloves, yet such a stinging touch. She fondled me for a
moment between my legs. I did not want to be pleasured there, but I dared
not close my legs. I held them wide in a bold vee as sheÕd instructed me.
She told me I was free to lift my legs as I needed to, but that if I kicked
back at her IÕd never forget it.
Shadows appeared outside our shrouded workplace. I felt as if I
were giving birth, with my parents outside, waiting, wondering, asking
passing nurses for news. I hand drew back the pink canopy of my bed. It
was Rose. She was dressed in a formal gown, sipping wine. She smiled at
me over the lip of her glass. Somehow within myself I knew it must be
French Chablis. That wine was very good with oyster stuffing, I learnt
once, as a little girl, studying a menu in a restaurant when IÕd tired of
coloring in the restaurantÕs logo in the childrenÕs activity book.
RoseÕs gown was held up by two spaghetti-thin straps over her frail,
fragile shoulders. Her skin was white. The dress molded her closely but
the portion covering her breasts consisted of but two uplifted circles of
fabric. A man tugging at her dress might to get her attention might pull to
hard and render her topless.
A hand settled on her shoulder. Louis! He came around from
somewhere beyond and behind her, took up position beside her. He gazed at
me with stern eyes. I wanted to beg forgiveness from him for whatever
IÕd done to deserve this but, I knew, IÕd done nothing but be myself, his
love, beautiful and loving him. This is what he did to girls he loved.
SKRAAAACK! The birch swept up again, catching the lowest portion
of my jutting, tender bottom cheeks.
ÒAaaaaaaah,Ó I cried into my red ball gag, feeling the heat of the
twitchy rods as they marked me with their nubbed stiffness. I let my
bottom gyrate freely. I felt no shame despite showing off my ass, its
crack.
ÒWe had to tie PollyÕs legs,Ó Rose told me. ÒBut you are older. I
want you to remain self-possessed, in control.Ó She reached out and
touched Bambi. ÒLet her settle down a little before giving each new
stroke,Ó Rose told her. ÒThere is no hurry. I want her to savor each one,
to dread it, to wait for it and then to scream aloud when she finally feels
it. Make her whipping sensuous. Yes, it must be difficult for her, but she
is not really in prison, and we are not really her jailers.Ó
ÒOh, alright,Ó Bambi said. I think she was growing hot where it
mattered most for, in my frenzied kicking and stamping on the bed, not
kicking back but outward, like a disabled person trying to walk, I saw
Bambi untie the triangle of satin over her cunt. She didnÕt untie the top
triangle, as I thought she would, though. She reached within the vee of her
legs and undid two impossibly tiny ties that held the base of her triangle
of satin against the lips of her cunt. Falling outward, being caught finally
by the topmost triangle, tied off above her mons, she looked like an Indian.
She had on her flapping Indian triangle, one might say, hovering over her
bush, flipping outward whenever she moved. I watched as LouisÕ eyes left
me to find themselves transfixed by her coyly half revealed pussy. Bambi,
sensing she was on display as much as me, randily parted my
bottomcheeks and flicked her tongue within.
She skipped my hole, but licked all up and down the inside of my
crack. Her hands held my injured fanny, spreading it, venting it, her
fingers pressing against my newly awarded marks from the birch. I did
not like being held thus, my hams lifted and held open by another girl.
Worst of all, her fingers made my ass hurt more. Any touch upon my
wounded cheeks seemed like an agony. And the night had just begun!
I closed my eyes. I tried to think of Polly. Anything to keep me from
thinking of my own bottom. Was she being whipped now? It would be like
whipping a little angel, I thought. A wingless angel, to be sure, but surely
her cherubic bottomcheeks would be so babylike that Branson would go
easy on her. Had she tried to escape him? Had she stuck out her tongue
and leapt from her bed and made a game of it? Had Branson, wheezing and
old, been forced to chase her about the locked bedroom until he finally
caught her and tied her wiggling body to the head of her bed?
ÒNYAH! NYAH! NYAH! NYAH!Ó I could hear her teasing in my mind, as
she realized she might just have the better of Branson and never be
caught. Had Rose entered then, and helped? Had Andre been called to
attend to her?
ÒOoooooOOOH!Ó I heard suddenly in the night air. At first I thought it
was an owl. Then I realized it was Polly. ÒOh, please!Ó I heard, then,
ÒYahoooOOOOH!Ó and I thought I heard the crack of a leather whip, coming
hard against her skin. She cried out again, and then again. Her screams
merged with the crashing of the surf on the rocky beach far below. I felt a
sea breeze enter through the window and cool my face. My hair fluttered
briefly. The canopy of my bed ruffled itself, inspired by the wind.
A cane was produced. Louis had been holding it, just behind himself,
not letting me see it until now. Gleefully Bambi accepted it. The length
of it must have been six feet. It was wickedly slender. Rose, fearful of
being hit by it, drew Louis back, holding his hand, squeezing it tight.
ÒNot- not too hard,Ó Rose told Bambi, who I swear looked like a child
with a new Christmas toy.
ÒDonÕt spare her,Ó Louis said. I trembled at the sound of his words.
His voice was rich, deep. He puffed on his pipe. Rose gasped a little as he
exhaled and a cloud of tobacco smoke enveloped the both of them.
Bambi got off to one side to better position herself for applying the
whip to my heinie. In my bare feet I stood waiting, my bottom red and
sore but still deliciously white amidst the score of lines emblazoned
across it. I begged them to stop but no one could understand me.
ÒMmmm, such a tempting target,Ó Bambi said, lustfully gazing at my
shaking, frightened fanny. Oh, how could she? I was a girl, just like her.
Had she no pity for me?
THWACK! In came the cane, blazing across my backside. I jumped up,
all but the tips of my toes leaving the bed. My teeth ground against the
ball that gorged within my mouth. I felt my neck yank on the end of the
pole that held me submissive. Christ had not suffered this much upon the
cross. I felt my bottomcheeks yammer together, shuddering within
themselves as the whip struck, then bound outward, showing my crack.
One moment my furrow was just a tight line compressed between my
cheeks. The next it was wide apart, on display, letting them see my hole.
Louis placed his fingers upon the straps of RoseÕs dress. She
watched from the corners of her eyes as he lifted her straps until, quite
suddenly but not unexpectedly, they broke. Her dress fell to her waist.
Her bosoms, bounteous in their maturity, came tumbling out to show their
fleshiness and their quivering tips. Rose looked down at herself a
moment, feeling LouisÕ eyes as he looked over her shoulder and admired
her cleavage. Then she slipped onto my bed in her broken gown and got
right behind me.
ÒHang in there, youÕre doing great!Ó Rose told me. She reached
beneath me and diddled my cunny. I gasped into my mouth-filling gag,
wanting more, yet feeling so utterly humiliated. New pairs of eyes
appeared. Men and women I did not know. How many people were in my
bedroom? How many watched? They gazed at me dispassionately, as one
might watch a showgirl, not knowing her name, not really caring. They
drank wine and chatted amongst themselves. My only consolation was
that, watching me, these nameless men would no doubt be inspired to do
the same to their loves, who watched beside them. The women drank their
wine in little gulps as they felt their lovesÕ hands pass down possessively
over their bottoms. They cared not for me, but they did care for
themselves and their own tushies.
Rose picked up a riding crop. It was well worn. It must have been in
the estate for years. I suspected it had begun its career on the flanks of
horses, but somebody had brought it inside one day, and it had not been
returned to the stable. Rose touched my heinie lightly with her fingertips
as if to mark where she would hit me. Then, drawing in her breath, her
tits rising as her lungs filled, she drew back her hand.
WHAP! The leather crop came against my skin with a forcefulness I
had not expected. I felt my own lungs exhale, shaking my bare tits like
fruit on a tree in a storm, as the crop damaged my heinie and left a weal.
My ass shook. Pain gripped it. A line radiated inward until my cheeks
seemed to bulge with pain. My first weal. I would bathe it later, passing
my hand back over it, touching it, wondering at its fiery heat. But now my
ass was outthrust, a charming treat for all to see, whitefleshed but with
bitter marks upon it.
ÒOh, does it hurt?Ó a young girl watching me asked aloud. She knew
nothing, I guessed, seeing such torture for the first time tonight. Her
bottom was most in danger then, most like to suffer as mine. Other
women exchanged glances, said nothing, drank their wine freely.
ÒYes, darling, itÕs so very harsh, isnÕt it?Ó Rose asked me. She
selected a paddle next. Lifting it, she whacked it upon my behind, a dull
thudding splat that came down over my ass so that the weal IÕd just
received was at the center of its impact.
ÒOOOOOH!Ó I hollared. I was crying now. There was no escaping it.
They were being so horrid to me, so very horrid. My tears flowed wetly
down my cheeks. The sea breeze from the window cooled my face but did
nothing for my bottom. Why, why, why must they treat me this way? Why
did Louis like this? And then, as I felt a pony lash striking me, as if
training me like some lioness at the circus, I felt my bosoms shake again,
slinging my coral tips about, and I felt my ass bound outward, and I knew.
I was a flesh goddess, enticing them, charming them with my wrigglings.
I had been reduced to tears and screams. I was no longer the sullen girl,
the smarty goodlooking female cherry bomb, or the impish teasing
trickster, like Polly, sassing the men and making them want me. I was
theirs. They had me completely within their power. Louis owned me now.
He might sperm me here and leave me here, stuck to this post, until I gave
birth to his child nine months later. I had lost all control. But Rose was
determined to take me yet one step further.
I felt a teacup passed beneath my cunt. Rose stroked my thighs. I
felt her breath hot upon my raw bottom.
ÒPee,Ó Rose told me. ÒPee like the young mare you are, right here,
right in front of all these people. DonÕt hold back, darling. Tonight is all
about letting go.Ó
I resisted. As I heard PollyÕs screams from somewhere in the
castle, I held myself in. My pee at least I would keep to myself, even if
my bottom were presented for all to see, with my tears rolling down my
cheeks.
ÒAlright,Ó Rose said, seeing I would not obey. She withdrew the cup
and took up a martinet. ItÕs stiff, water soaked cords would show me no
mercy. It had lain waiting, hidden, within the pot of brine. It was not
very large or long. It did not need to be.
ÒOh, let me do it!Ó Bambi begged. As if in answer Louis, who had
escaped my eyes and circled round the bed, grabbed her from behind and
pushed her face down into the sheets. There was nothing to undo or untie.
She wore her playsuit, but her triangles were undone. The rest was just
lace trimming. He unzipped himself. Seeing she was undone, Bambi balled
her fist and pushed it between her teeth. Louis presented his cock to her
cunt lips and nudged them apart with his blue-stemming cockhead.
Suddenly he was in her, and Bambi gasped at the immediacy of his entry.
She seemed to have trouble taking him for a moment, he was so swift, so
hard. A cry escaped her throat.
When he was fully lodged, Louis began reaming Bambi with slow,
deliberate strokes. Rose, for her part, took to whacking my bottom with
the martinet. I felt the salt ooze from the stick with each cracking blow
of it upon my heinie. I was in agony. I danced upon the bed, kicked back at
her, was rewarded with a yet more deliberate blow. She went easy,
striking me playfully, but the martinet is an awful instrument and it does
not take much from its cords to make a girlÕs bottom surrender itself.
Brazenly my cheeks oscillated within a tight circle, moving
constantly now, offering themselves, showing my fleshy hemispheres as if
they were baubles at some crude market fair. I flexed them and shook
them. I squeezed them and pushed them out toward Rose, hoping perhaps
to bang her in the face with my bottom. For her part she kept applying the
martinet, each stroke carefully aimed, laid on with precision, her bosoms
lifting and falling and jostling with her every wrist-swinging sweep of
the stick.
In a sudden shamelessness, not even waiting for the teacup, I peed
upon the sheets of my bed.
ÒOh, look!Ó A female cried, pointing at me. They all watched with
fascination in their eyes.
ÒYes,Ó Rose hissed, and she gave me another ass-biting stroke of the
martinet, even as I offered my water to her. A big stain grew beneath me
and I thought of my mother. She seemed so loving and caring now. She had
wanted to protect me, yet here I was, showing off my ass like some long
lost treasure and peeing out my golden stream.
Bambi moaned by my knees as Louis hammered her with his cock. As
I peed, he spurted his sperm into her. We both went together, as it were,
me on the pristine bed and he within the youthfully clutching lips of her
cunt. There was a round of applause. Indiscreetly Rose lifted her skirt
and put her hand beneath herself and masturbated her cunt. With her free
hand she gave me another blow from the martinet, then another, trying to
restrain herself but feeling ever more lusty by the moment. She screamed
out as she came quickly to orgasm, jamming her fingers within herself.
She swung her fist in again toward me, holding the martinet, but lost her
grip on it suddenly, hitting me only with her bare hand. Weeping with
pleasure she collapsed against my fanny. Her salty tears flowed over my
damaged flesh, doing me no good at all, but she must have thought she was
helping me for she cried freely against my heinie, rubbing her wet cheeks
against me, and finally she kissed me with her lips.
Louis found he had more sperm to offer. Withdrawing his newly
spurted prick from Bambi, he got up on the bed and poked himself into
Rose. She ground her face into my ass as he pushed his rod up inside her.
They went at it, she licking my bottom while he reamed her well, giving
her long and deeply penetrating strokes as if heÕd lost nothing in Bambi.
The guests in my room helped Bambi up from the bed. Two women
embraced her and kissed her. As Rose laved my bottom with her tongue,
tracing my welt, kissing my cheeks, Louis behind her, the crowd undressed
and took to the floor for fucking.
All around me sounds of passion and love began to arise, as in the
distance I saw the first fleeting glimpses of sunlight. PollyÕs screams
had faded. Amidst the moans and cries of my guests the birds outside
began to chirp. They saw the sun and awakened to it, even as we ourselves
were working our way toward sleep.
It consoled me to know that the rug burns on my guests would be
intense. Their bottoms would hurt like mine did, though not as much, but
some, and that was enough. I let my tears flow freely down my cheeks and
I tongued my gag. Its balled firmness remained wedged between my teeth,
filling my mouth, making me feel like a pony harnessed for a morning ride.
At last the sun shone brightly through the window and, like vampires
retreating from it, to await the new moon, we were done.
Rose gently detached me from the pillar and my gag. She undid my
wrists. Drawing my arms out, she flexed them for me. I was too weak,
too overwhelmed. I was limp in her arms. I smelled sperm and saw sheÕd
been well-fucked by Louis. His essence ran down the insides of her thighs.
I was laid down in my bed. The wet spot loomed beneath me but I did
not care. The sheets were crisp and difficult against my bottom, despite
their handwoven softness. The wet spot touched my back only, from my
shoulders down to the lowest part of my waist. My bottom had a dry
perch, but I could not stand it, and I rolled over onto my tummy to escape
the stinging of my soft bed. I let my bottom expose itself to the cool
morning air. I raised it up, pulling my knees toward me a little. I felt the
comforting softness of my pillow beneath my face and wished so much
that I could rest my bottom on the consoling silkiness of my bed, but it
was not possible.
ÒOh, she wants more!Ó the young girl, rising and dressing,
commented. She simply did not understand. The guests bustled about now,
reclothing themselves. All was quick kisses and brief words of goodbye
as the sun flooded the room. Passionate lovers who had kissed deeply into
each otherÕs throats passed away from each other with only the slightest
acknowledgement. They were like passersby on the street now, each going
their own separate way. Women who had joined together and brought each
other to frenzied bliss parted company, hardly speaking, not caring. Men
who had swapped wives let go of their new loves like children tossing
away ice cream cones after licking out all the cream.
Suited up, dressed again, their breasts and cunnies and loins tucked
away, the guests departed. I heard them start their cars a few minutes
later down in the parking lot that lay alongside the castle. All was done,
all was gone. Rose drew the curtains to keep the sun off my bottom.
Taking LouisÕ hand, they left the room and locked the door behind them.
I sobbed into my pillow and felt the cool morning breeze filter
through my curtains and play across my heinie. I had received. I had been
good. Louis would love me forever, I told myself, and I fell quickly asleep.
When I woke up I was startled to feel such hot pain in my bottom.
Then I remembered. I looked up. The post was still there. Rose had not
bothered to retract it. I groaned as I tried to get up. My bottom was
flaring, a deep-seated ball of glowing heat. Yet somehow, within its
tenderness, I felt a sexiness. I was aware of myself as never before. I
was new somehow. I kneed my way to the edge of my bed and got down
from it. I felt the soft fur of the rug as it impressed itself between my
toes. I walked to a mirror and turned around.
ÒAh!Ó I cried as I looked at myself. My lightly tanned flesh, with my
white boobs hanging like young fruit from my ribs, was perfect. Except in
one place. And that was my bottom. There, my untanned flesh, so dearly
protected from the sun to make me look sexy without my clothes on, was
bright red. It was as if someone had drawn an intricate road map across
my hemispheres. Not a street had been left out. All over my white ass I
saw many little lines, each giving my delicate bottom an overall
appearance of being like a well-stitched tomato, more red than white now,
but with a little white showing through here and there to remind me of
what I once was.
God, I had gotten it good, much worse than at abandon gardens. Had
Polly suffered the same? Would we be the twins of tortured bottoms?
Shivering, I let go of my hind cheeks and wrapped my arms around myself.
I felt my bosoms bulbing within my arms, protesting, wanting to hang
free. I took myself to the bathroom. I walked like a wounded soldier,
walking wounded, tip-toeing across the rug, so afraid for my heinie, yet
somehow happy within myself. I had obeyed Louis. I would claim him now
as my own.
I drew back the shower curtain and stepped into the tub. I did not
know whether to stand or sit. Finally I turned on the water and just stood
under it. I felt like an abandoned kitten, my blonde hair streaming down
under the shower, sticking to me in its wetness. For a long time I just
stood and felt the cool lukewarm water of the shower run down over my
bottom. I was alone. I did not want to be alone. I wanted to be with
others. I could not bear this loneliness. Where were Joanne and Sylvia? I
deserved their attention now. Perhaps I had awakened sooner than they
thought I would. What time was it? I did not know.
Finally I stepped from the shower and dried myself. Where was
everybody? Why were they not here to celebrate my return to the living?
Where was Louis? He should kiss me and bathe me in the morning, not
leave me to wash myself like some cheap whore done with her night of
tricks. I walked out into my bedroom, feeling my bottom joggle boldly
behind me, all red and tortured and making me walk with exaggerated
movements of my ass. I fished out a bikini from the dresser. I tied on the
top, checking it in a mirror. I dared not wear the panties. But I tossed
them over my shoulder just in case. Who knows? Somebody downstairs
might have a whip and decide mine was the perfect ass to apply it to.
I came down the front staircase with my hair all brushed and
glowing with luminous blondness, my makeup perfect, my lipstick red and
inviting. I wore my bikini top. My panties were slung over my shoulder.
My bush, necessarily, was bared to whomever might greet me.
And there, within the parlor, just looking up now to see me, was
Rose. She had older women with her. They were dressed primly, as if at
some neighborhood meeting, or some vanguard discussion group for school
reform. Feeling a little like one of their daughters, though, thank God, I
did not see my mother there or any of her friends, I sauntered as
unselfconsciously as I could down the rest of the stairs and, hoping to
reach the pool, through the parlor, for that was the shortest way.
I was gazed at by all the ladies. They were twice my age. Had they
been like me once? I did not try to hide my bush. I let my bush and my
cunny show as freely as if I were onstage at Las Vegas. I walked with my
back erect, my young breasts lifted high. Only my bottom remained
undisciplined, waggling excessively, due to my whipping. As I passed
through them, trying to ignore them, I felt their eyes paste themselves
upon my bottom as its clenching cheeks came into view. They gasped at
my marks. I put my hands instinctively behind myself to cover up my
cheeks but I winced when my palms touched them. I had to draw my hands
away and let them see me there, with all my burny marks.
I made it past them and into the next room, then through the next,
and out a side door to the pool. I saw Polly splashing in it. She looked like
a little dolphin. As I drew close she greeted me happily and then dove
beneath the waters, sticking her bottom up as her head went down.
Oh! They had done her too, just like me, but the waters were cooling
her ass for her and letting her absorb the pain and accept it. Quickly,
tossing my panties aside, I stepped to the edge of the pool and waded into
it. Descending a flight of tiled steps I let the water rise up and take me.
Ah, it was chilly, but so comforting against my ass! I turned my head and
saw Louis and Andre lounging nearby, in bathrobes. It was still morning,
eleven oÕclock perhaps. Andre was eating a brunch served to him by Maria
and Louis was dressed in a silk bathrobe, smoking a pipe. He looked up
from a newspaper in his lap, gazed at me, then returned to the sports page.
I did not mind. I loved him. I would keep him forever, just as he kept me.
I paddled out into the water and joined Polly. She took possession of a
beach ball floating aimlessly on the water. We stood in the shallow end
and, letting our breasts hang free to entertain the men, our tops discarded
and floating away from us on the surface of the pool, we passed the big
beach ball back and forth to each other, volley-ball style, batting it back
and forth as our titties joggled in their fullness and I felt the tips of mine
grow hard.
Later, as the sun reached its zenith, Andre and Louis cast off their
robes. They entered the pool and took Polly and I from behind. Despite the
roughness of their prickly hairy skin against my bottom, I felt soothed
somehow. Polly and I kissed and tongued each otherÕs mouths as the men
did us in the shallow end, bending us forward like puppies being given
enemas, making us feel them within ourselves. When they spurted, Polly
and I cried out together, breathing into each otherÕs mouths, clutching at
each otherÕs tits. I felt her nipples pricking my palms and I squished her
breasts in my hands, feeling their youthful resilience, and she handled
mine just as freely.
When weÕd been spermed Polly and I got out of the pool. The men laid
out soft towels for us on reclining chaise lounges. We sat down happily,
wincing and crying at first, but finally accommodating ourselves to our
new state, sinking our bottoms into the towels and welcoming the
attention of the men. Not satisfied with having done us in the pool, they
each placed their cocks in our mouths. Polly and I sucked on them as Maria
laid out brunch for us. We were spermed again. After they were done
Polly and I wiped our mouths with napkins and then, feeling silly and
decadent, we ate our brunch lying back in our chairs, feeding our eggs and
sausages into our sperm-soaked mouths. Our titties wobbled freely,
uncovered in the sun. We would be tanned there, but I didnÕt care. Let the
sun brown my breasts a little. I would surprise my mother with an all-
over tan.
Polly and I ate lustily. We were hungry from our nightÕs play. The
men watched us, mesmerized. We were just schoolgirls, yet here we
were, soaking up the sun and loving life and letting them do as they
pleased with us. Out of the corner of my eye I saw their cocks grow anew.
They were excited by us, and we by them.
As soon as Polly and I were done we got up from our chairs. The men
stood, expectantly, their cocks stemming at us with renewed vigor.
ÒWhat now?Ó I asked Louis as I drew close to him. My fingers
touched his cock. I let them play upon it. I touched his pee slit. We did
not kiss, or embrace. Not yet. He ran his fingers over my breasts and my
belly.
ÒYou are truly beautiful,Ó he said to me.
ÒWhy, thank you, Louis,Ó I replied.
Polly and Andre negotiated with similar words, touching, exploring,
finding each other as fresh and new as when weÕd first met. But my
bottom, and PollyÕs, promised that weÕd be submissive.
And at last I could say the name of RoseÕs castle to myself. It was
Cunt Castle. ÒCunt Castle,Ó I said aloud to Louis, looking up at him
sweetly.
ÒYes,Ó he replied. He touched my cunny and rubbed me gently,
sticking himself in a little bit. Feeling his fingers in me I fondled his
cock. That was what belonged in me, but we were just playing now,
allowing ourselves these few special moments before retreating to a bed
in the castle. We would spend the afternoon jousting, I knew. Him with
his cock and me with my bottom and slit.
Andre and Polly drew close. I looked at her. I tugged LouisÕ fingers
out of my slit and went to her. I put my arm around her waist. I was
slightly taller. I gazed into her uplifted eyes.
Maria passed in front of us. She had an umbrella over her head to
protect her wrinkled features from the sun. Lightly I reached out and
plucked it from her fingers. I lifted it over my head, then passed it over
PollyÕs so that it would shelter her the most, me a little less.
Maria stood, looking at me. She had been tasked with walking RoseÕs
dalmatian and she did not like having her umbrella stolen. She had so
many chores. Our brunch waited to be cleared away, yet sheÕd been given
yet another job. The dalmatian strained at its leash, eager for its walk. I
think there was a female dog down by the workerÕs huts, in heat, hoping
her savior might come to visit her. Was Maria to mate the dogs? I did not
know.
ÒCome, Polly,Ó I said to my girlfriend. I brushed past Maria. Let her
work for us, just as Polly and I worked for Louis and Andre. Let her
always be in attendance on us.
ÒWalk the dog, Maria,Ó I said to her, commanding her, and I relished
my new attitude of command. With my arm around PollyÕs waist, holding
her close, I walked her toward the house. Andre and Louis followed. They
watched our alluring bottoms, all red from their punishment and, I doubted
not, due to receive more before our stay at the castle was over. But I did
not mind. We had come here to try new things.
ÒWhat- what are we going to dooo?Ó Polly asked me. I let my eyes
fall upon her breasts and I watched as their tips stemmed with wiggling
pleasure into the mid-day sun.
ÒIÕm going to serve you for dessert,Ó I said to her, thinking quickly.
Yes. I would lay her out on a sofa, her hands pressed to her sides, and
squirt whipped cream on her as she lay watching me. I would stand over
her and decorate her, freely showing my bush, both of us quite nude. Our
boyfriends would watch, astonished, waiting for the scrumptious dessert
to be served. And weÕd eat her then, feeding like Romans at an orgy, all of
us naked as she, but she at least clothed in whipped cream and syrup.
And weÕd invite Rose. And sheÕd be delighted by my inventiveness.
She would partake of Polly with us. I smacked my lips and gazed into
PollyÕs eyes. She was breathless with excitement.
ÒServed for dessert?Ó she asked. SheÕd lost enough of her
babyishness in her whipping last night to know not to protest.
ÒYes,Ó I replied. ÒAs girls, Polly, we must know what our foremost
duty is.Ó
ÒWahtÕs that?Ó she asked, mangling her question a little in her
excitement.
ÒTo serve men,Ó I said. And, glancing over my shoulder, I knew that
before I left this strange castle IÕd see Andre, at least, reduced to dessert
himself, his cock stemming up through Cool-Whip, streaked with chocolate
syrup, just as JackÕs had been. The thought made me shiver right through
to the depths of my belly. ÒTo serve men,Ó I said again, and we walked
with swinging bottoms into the cool, shadowed sanctuary of the castle.
THE END
----------------------- Dreamgirls! -----------------------
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-END OF story EMISSION