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Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
AMSTERDAM DAMSELS
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Chapter Nine
Was I feeling morbid? I spent days afterward languishing. I spent
them back at the ÒLondon Dungeon,Ó again playing the nun, Betsy my best
companion. And then one day it got chilly. Summer was passing.
Surprisingly, this renewed me. I felt a new sense of wonder at my
growing body. The world might be passing into autumn, but I felt Spring
welling up within me.
I went shopping downtown. For clothes. Kali had given me some
money, and Cybil too. ÒFor services rendered,Ó Cybil said, telling me that
her business had increased since men had reported seeing a lanky, lissome
15-year-old ÒalmostÓ virgin lounging about the place. But I stuck with
Becky, enjoying the deprivation that I was inflicting on the males that
came by now and then, hoping for my favor. So close they were, and yet so
far. Cybil kept them in line. They could not have me unless I said Ôyes.Õ
And I eliminated that word from my vocabulary. At least for a little
while. Until I regrouped. And then, when I had, I wanted to go deeper still.
Into sin.
I met them downtown. We chatted outside a store window
displaying Moslem fundamentalist literature. A mannikin in a chador
stared down on us. She was blonde, long hair, just like me, except her hair
was longer. And the male with her, an older guy, was just introduced to
me as ÒSir Litchfield.Ó He had a British accent. The blonde told me her
name was Juliette. She hinted ÒSir LitchfieldÓ was just a made-up name.
Gazing into their eyes, I felt a welcoming, a beckoning. But I knew
they were playing Pied Piper for a world I had so far resisted entering.
ÒYou wouldnÕt, of course, be able to stay,Ó Juliette was saying to me
when my mind re-connected to what she was saying. She had a slim,
elvish beauty, a tall princess from the tall ships of Numenor. ÒIt would
just be for the evening.Ó
ÒThatÕs alright,Ó I heard myself reply. What was she saying? Yes.
That I must come with them. Or cum... I glanced again at Sir L. Was the L
for love? Such magnetic eyes. No, something else. Something about a
field. Plowing my field, hoeing it. He would sow a good harvest there. A
bountiful harvest.
Juliette took my hand. She smiled brightly at me. Her eyes were
expectant. We got into their car as the mannikin watched. Seeing, yet
sightless. All but her eyes out of sight behind the all-cloaking chador. I
would not be cloaked, no. Just the opposite.
They took me home, showed me around their house. I nodded, gazed
at their handsome, antique furniture. Their art, 19th Century, their
kitchen, brass pots hanging in good business-like order from the ceiling.
Polished, handles erect, suspended.
ÒLetÕs undress,Ó Juliette said to me casually. It was as if we were
going for a swim, except we were still indoors, and they had no pool.
Following her lead, I began to shed my clothes. Slowly, easily. She
undressing and I also, Sir L watching, undoing his trousers slowly,
unhurriedly. Offering a rod of unprecedented proportions to both our eyes
when he finally lowered his underpants.
And I, stripping off my panties, watched it with awed eyes.
Juliette, kicking her own panties off, took my chin. She brought my mouth
to hers, averting my gaze from her lover, and kissed me sweetly, lightly,
on my lips. An exchange of lipstick. A little smearing. My boobies, with
their wiggly nipples, shaking tremulously close to her own.
ÒCome,Ó Juliette said. She turned, led me into the bathroom. Her
long, wavy blonde hair swayed with her every step as she walked. Her
bottom was generous. A ripe pumpkin waiting for a boy to come and take
it from the garden, spear it with his knife. Sir L followed, his penis hard,
uncompromising.
We entered a dazzling marble bathroom. The walls and floor were
made of marble. The tub, huge, was inlaid with marble. There was no
water in it. Champagne waited in a chilled bucket by the unfilled tub. A
servant, seeing us come home, had placed it here, disappeared. And there
was something else. A bucket. And old-time, wooden pail. It was filled
with brine. And sticking up from it, long and slender, were several birch
branches. They were tied off at the end with a kind of little flag, a pink
bow. Juliette lifted the birch from the bucket, then laid it crosswise over
the bucket so that the excess brine would drip off. She wanted it wet, but
not drippy wet. I admired her lovely naked body as she moved, her bare
breasts swaying, her nipples risen, her legs long and sleek.
Abundant towels waited in folded bliss to be used. Juliette unfurled
one, plush and blue, and laid it by the side of the tub for us to rest our
bottoms on. Then, as Sir L and I sat down, dangling our feet into the
vacant tub, Juliette unfolded a second towel. Or, rather, she simply
tossed it, letting it unfurl itself as it fell haphazardly onto the marble
floor. It fell near a vase of pretty flowers. For a moment I thought it
might hit the flowers. They were roses, mixed with poinsettias, held in a
fragile carnelian vase.
ÒFor you, when weÕre ready,Ó Juliette said simply to me, meaning the
towel next to the vase.
ÒYes,Ó I replied. She got Sir L and I drinks. I sipped mine, she
swallowed hers.
ÒYou might wish to be drunk,Ó Juliette said meaningfully to me. She
sat down next to me, refilled her glass, passed the bottle to Sir L, who had
downed his own in one gulp.
ÒHow do you feel?Ó Sir L asked me. My thigh just touched his. I
glanced at his rod, straining in its excitement between his hairy thighs, a
projectile at least 10 inches in length.
ÒFine, right now,Ó I replied. I tried to drink my champagne a little
more boldly.
ÒThat is good,Ó he said. ÒYou feel no pain?Ó
ÒNo,Ó I replied. I felt young, like a newborn foal, awkward and yet
alive, so alive. Always before a storm the air is at its freshest, cleanest.
The wind picks up and blows through your hair and you know the lightning
will strike soon.
ÒDo you wish to be cuffed? Gagged?Ó Juliette asked me. Her eyes
looked so innocent, her words so smoothly delivered. ÒWe have those
here.Ó
ÒNo,Ó I replied.
ÒYou wish to play with yourself while it happens?Ó Sir L asked me.
ÒIt is easier for a girl that way sometimes,Ó Juliette said.
ÒMaybe,Ó I said. ÒI do not really know. I have not...Ó
ÒIt is wise of you to do it,Ó Sir L replied. ÒIt will give you a new
sense of yourself.Ó
ÒYes,Ó I said. ÒLike Spring Break, the first time. You party, you get
drunk, stoned. You canÕt exactly remember the boy you slept with the next
day, but you know it was wonderful.Ó
ÒMmmm, if he wore a condom,Ó Juliette said, with a smirk.
ÒWell, then I suppose you simply wouldnÕt remember his NAME, but
you mightnÕt have known that in the first place,Ó I said. I was fantasizing
a little, embroidering my thoughts with stories other, more experienced
girls had told me back home.
ÒHad enough?Ó Juliette asked. She reached out, took hold of my
glass. I relinquished it. I could see she was eager to begin. She was not
as hesitant about her sexuality as I was. Neither was Sir L.
ÒMelody, this is going to be quite painful,Ó Sir L said to me. His
voice was frank, bold. He made to stand, rose with his cock waggling its
majestic beauty before my eyes. I remained sitting. Juliette took me
under my arm and lifted me slowly, awkwardly to my feet. We were all
barefoot. The bathroom walls muffled the sound of our speaking. Echoed
it within, but beyond, beyond the door Sir L had locked, I knew nothing
could be heard. It was the ultimate privacy. Just us, our nudity. Even the
servant would be unaware of our games. Unheard I would scream within
these four walls. There would be, I guessed, no mercy. No witnesses. Did
I want that? I wanted someone else to decide, that I knew.
I shivered. I faced Sir L. Juliette hovered behind me, admiring my
ass.
ÒIt will be a challenge,Ó Sir L said to me. I nodded. Silently,
submissively I nodded. Juliette quietly took to pinning up my hair. ÒMost
challenges in life involve studying, like in school, and certainly require
the wearing of clothes. Even the proper wearing of clothes.Ó His eyes
savored my nudity as he spoke. My breasts rose and fell softly on my
chest with each of my childish breaths. I was breathy, excited. I could
feel a swirling in my belly. My nipples were as hard as I could ever have
imagined them to be. Sir LÕs cock stood out just as forcefully, quivering
at the brink of some deep need, some intense pleasure.
ÒHere, of course, no clothes are required,Ó Juliette said behind me.
ÒThey are not allowed. Your parents would never approve, Melody,Ó
Juliette said to me.
ÒI know,Ó I gulped.
ÒWould you like another glass of champagne before we begin?Ó Sir L
said. ÒIt is not too much to ask.Ó He spoke as if his doing of a favor for
me was a great privilege that he was conferring upon me. An honor.
ÒOkay,Ó I said. My voice was lispy. He got the champagne, filled my
glass, gave it to me. He held on to it as I sipped, then drank more, Sir L
forcing me to take it at an ever increasing rate, tilting the glass farther
and farther. My throat worked as I tried to get it all. Some spilled,
splattered to the floor.
ÒTsk,Ó Juliette said.
ÒIt is not good to waste such expensive champagne,Ó Sir L told me.
The game had begun. I was a victim now. It was my role, my duty.
ÒGo to the towel,Ó Juliette said. She spoke from behind me. My
bottom cheeks clenched, drew in as her words washed over me. With
wobbling, fearful cheeks I walked to the towel. My special towel, next to
the flowers. I knelt down upon it.
ÒAll fours, face on the towel,Ó Sir L told me. I bent over, my knees
on the towel, my back bending until my face pressed to the floor. Right on
the edge of the towel my face was, just my cheek touching it, my forehead
over the hard, glassy marble. My hands gripped the towel, my arms drew
in, squeezing my sides. My wrists pressed against my hanging bosoms. My
nipples sprouted into the towel, felt comfort there. I would sew new
designs on the towel with my nipples.
Juliette picked up the birch rod. She whisked it through the air,
testing it. Her eyes gazed at me, challenging eyes, her lips smiled a rueful
smile. Did she wish to be in my place? I was a rabbit. I was, indeed, the
center of attention. Sir L watched me, not her. I sensed jealously in her
movements. She would control mine now, make me respond to her. For Sir
L. For his pleasure.
I crossed one of my ankles over the other, trying to hide my cunt. It
stared back at them, I knew, tucked just under my bottom, tempting Sir L
to cease my punishment before its time, plunge himself in, forget Juliette.
ÒOpen your legs, you slut!Ó Juliette barked at me. She swung the
birch, glided it menacingly over my arse, just missing. I uncrossed my
ankles. Tentatively I opened my thighs.
ÒWhat makes you think youÕre so special, hiding yourself like that?Ó
Juliette asked me. She had not forgotten my haphazard disobedience.
ÒCanÕt you see my cunt?Ó I could. Between her legs it lay, sweetly, she
arched her hips forward for me to see it better. ÒAnd Sir L?Ó Well, he
was obvious, as all men are. ÒWider! Let us really see your private. This
is a bathroom, god-dammit! Do you think this is the sanctuary of a
church? Do you think youÕre on an alter before God? Get those legs really
WELL open, bitch! Just like you want them to be. Just like you know they
have to be for Sir L to fuck you properly!Ó
As she swung the birch ever closer, sending shivers up my spine, I
spread my legs as far as I could. I was trembling with fear. I could not
believe I was doing this.
Juliette whisked her birch up over my curving hiney, touching it now,
just barely. I quivered as the little buds pricked at my soft cheeks. I was
bare, so bare, before these naked little buds. They would hurt so badly. I
sucked in my breath. It was my last moments, free of pain, free of
anything except an immense longing.
ÒThis will hurt like the dickens, Melody,Ó Juliette said to me,
suddenly compassionate. I gazed up at her tall, nude figure, all curves and
slimness, her boobs sticking out like twin melons, her legs open to display
her lovely bush. Nothing was hidden between us. And nothing would be,
either, once that awful birch rod started in on its task. I would be but
blubbering flesh before her then, crying, pleading. In my humbleness I
would ask for forgiveness.
Sir L passed something to Juliette. A mouth guard. ÒSuch pretty
teeth,Ó she said. She bent low, her breasts swinging. She inserted it into
my hesitant lips. ÒBite down,Ó she said. ÒOffer your bottom now, up,
show me how wanton and bad it is. Tsk, tsk. Something must be done
about your attitude, girl.Ó In the distance Sir L began stroking himself.
He was pleased by my posture, but would not say so. It might reduce my
punishment.
Juliette took up position behind me. She gave one final slash at the
air with her birch. Then, gazing wilfully at me, she aimed. She struck.
I glimpsed it gliding in, as if in slow motion. And then it seared
across my hiney. I lurched forward. I thought for a second that a horde of
bees had come zinging into the lavatory. I bucked forward, my bottom
reared up like a mare in heat. Bounding back down again, I received
another. Wicked stings, all over my ass. The flight of the bumblebees,
without the music.
ÒHow do you feel now? Does it hurt?Ó Sir L asked me. I looked up at
him in my nakedness, tears in my eyes. I gagged, murmured over the bit in
my mouth. It was there for my protection. It kept me silent.
ÒGive her another,Ó Sir L said. ÒShe will ask forgiveness soon
enough.Ó
WHACK! I bounced, my fanny cheeks flexed, contracted, bulged out.
My eyes squeezed shut. I felt flaring bites all over my precocious rump. I
sobbed, spit out my bit. ÒNo more!Ó I cried.
ÒSix at least,Ó Juliette replied, and told me to ask for the next.
I shook, I sobbed. Valiantly I tried to maintain my posture. Bent,
submissive, the perfect pose for deep fucking. Sir L gently replaced my
bit in my mouth.
ÒAsk,Ó he said. ÒSay it. I can hear you.Ó Finally, squeezing my
cheeks, releasing them, squeezing again in self-protection, I asked for the
next. A murmur, that was all. But he understood.
ÒGo,Ó Sir L told his lover. She swung in and cracked me hard against
my hiney.
ÒOh, woh!Ó I gasped. It stung beyond belief. I scampered off my
towel, howling, my bottom waggling like a newly branded heiferÕs.
Juliette ran after me. Barefoot she ran, her mane flying. Her arms
were slim, elegant. She came upon me cowering in a corner. There was
nothing but stern marble walls around, behind me, Juliette in front. ÒGet
back to your towel,Ó she ordered.
ÒNo, thatÕs all!Ó I cried. My mouth guard lay out beyond me, dropped.
My hair tumbled in strands down over my eyes. I wished to hide within it.
Juliette reached down, caught me by my hair. She pulled on it.
ÒOwwww!Ó I cried. Like a dog she dragged me back to the towel. She
made me reposition myself. I sobbed the whole time, pleading. My breasts
shook like ripe gourds about to fall from the vine. In the storm. In the
wind of the storm.
SWAAACK! She did not wait for the perfect pose. Unpoised, bawling,
she gave me my next stroke. I was a baby now. A baby in the delivery
room. Getting my bottom smacked. A new life in a new world.
WHAAAAACK! A final tribute across my ass. A loving swipe, coming up
underneath me, lifting me by my tenderest portions up into the air, hitting
me right where my ass liked to crease into my thighs. Where my cunt lay.
Nipping just the outermost bit of my fig. I shrieked. I leapt up. My hands
flew to my ass. Running barefoot across the floor I ran to my corner
again, huddled in it. I glanced back over my shoulder, saw them gazing at
me, laughing. I rubbed my heinie with brisk hands, tears streaming. I
danced from foot to foot upon the cold marble floor, wishing. Wishing the
paint would go away, please go away, it hurt so much.
ÒWhen youÕre done fooling around, its your turn to do me,Ó Juliette
smiled. She tossed the battered birch rod at my feet. It slid on the
marble floor. I flinched, drew away from it, deeper into my corner.
Sir L took Juliette into his arms. They kissed. They looked like
Adam and Eve. Was I the snake? Sir L had the snake, pressed up against
JulietteÕs belly. For a long while they kissed, me their naughty child,
standing in the corner, weeping over my scorched ass. Did some parents
punish their children this way? I wondered. It was erotic, wholesome
somehow. Everyone naked as jaybirds, punishing each other for made-up
sins in the privacy of the bath.
Juliette knelt, brushed back her hair. She bent over the gold faucet
on the tub and got it running. She sprinkled in bubble bath. Sir L came, got
me, guided me over to the towel where I had so recently paid my penance.
Still rubbing my bottom, I bent and picked up the birch. Juliette rose from
the faucet and walked over to me. She was chic, graceful. She smiled at
me, a bit uppity. Then she got down on the towel, and offered me an
elegant pose. Her ass spread before me. Her face dropped onto the towel,
wet with my tears. She reached back and pulled her fanny cheeks apart.
She smiled at me, then stunned me by letting out a little fart. I was
shocked. Sir L laughed. ÒYouÕd better punish her for that,Ó he advised me.
Fumbling with the rod, I swished it in against her bottom. Juliette
squirmed a little, stilled.
ÒYouÕll have to hit a lot harder to get anywhere with her,Ó Sir L
laughed. ÒIt isnÕt her first time.Ó
ÒI know,Ó I said. I drew back the rod again, feeling my naked breasts
rolling on my chest as I drew my hand up, skyward, my heavy jello-like
mounds pointing their nipples up, offering themselves to Sir LÕs avid eyes.
Down came my arm and I tried to give my wrist the necessary
suppleness IÕd heard about. The switch caught JulietteÕs fanny more
firmly and she let out a little howl.
ÒVery good,Ó Sir L said. ÒYou learn quickly.Ó
ÒI try,Ó I smiled. With my other hand I continued to rub my bottom. I
think it wished I would learn not to play these games, but I was still
curious. Naked as Eve herself I drew the birch skyward again and then
sliced it down across JulietteÕs hinds.
ÒYeeeeoooch!Ó Juliette gasped. She lifted her head, shook it. Her
blonde mane flew in tousled disarray.
ÒThere, thatÕs it. Now give her another. Harder,Ó Sir L told me.
Obediently I drew back the switch and lofted it over my head and then
swung it in again. It connected with JulietteÕs fanny and she screamed.
ÒYes, youÕve given her a good one that time,Ó Sir L complimented me.
He walked round behind his love and gazed at her seat. A strong red line
crossed her lovely white cheeks, parallelled by two pinkish ones where IÕd
struck her before. He bent and, his penis sticking out like a tent pole
between his legs, he traced the brightest line with his finger. I longed to
swish his bottom with my birch.
He noticed. ÒGo ahead,Ó he encouraged. ÒI must have a turn also.Ó
ÒOkay,Ó I smiled. I got behind him and, as he soothed his finger
across his wifeÕs wounded bottom, I gave him a sizzler with my ever more
supple wrist right across his hairy ass.
ÒYow!Ó He bolted upright. He clapped his hands to his seat. ÒYouÕre
getting good at that,Ó he said.
ÒI know,Ó I replied. ÒTake your hands away from your bottom.Ó
ÒReally, one is quite enough for now,Ó he assured me. You must
finish Juliette first.Ó
ÒAWAY from your bottom!Ó I annouced. I wasnÕt about to let this
dark-haired dreamboat escape with his ass intact now that IÕd witnessed
how sweet it was to punish it.
ÒDo me while she does you,Ó Juliette breathed to Sir L. Still hiding
his little tush behind his hands, he went to the bucket and drew out a birch
for himself. He came back to where heÕd been standing. I was waiting for
him. My eyes were bright and mischievous. I rubbed my own bottom with
one hand even while I waited for him to take his free hand away from his.
ÒHumpty Dumpty had a big fall, right on his hairy ass,Ó I sang to him.
Reluctantly he removed his hand so I could get a clear shot. At the same
time, he whisked his own birch teasingly across his wifeÕs pumpkin. She
offered it more boldly to him, hiding her face in the soft folds of the
towel. Her hands were balled into tense fists beside her face.
WHICK! I gave Sir L a very nice cut right across his gorgeous hairy
tush.
ÒYeeeow! Damn you, I wonÕt be able to sit for a week!Ó Sir L cursed
me. He shook his head. His ass did a little dance. Then, remembering
Juliette, he gave her a good one for letting me have my way with him.
We traded cuts in the bathroom until our bottoms were all beet red
and we could stand no more of it. Then we soaked in the bathwater, adding
more water to warm it, for the bath had grown cold waiting for us to
enter it.
I left the next morning carrying Sir LÕs sperm in my belly and
smiling happily. Both of them kissed me goodbye, waved to me as I got
into a cab.
ÒWhere to?Ó the driver asked. I gave him the address.
ÒIs there something wrong with my seat?Ó he asked. He craned his
neck back, afraid the back seat of his cab was somehow injuring me.
ÒNo,Ó I assured him. I smiled to myself. My bottom hurt, but giving
Sir L his due had been a glorious treat.
When I arrived back at CybilÕs, Kali was gone.
ÒSheÕs gone back to America,Ó Cybil said. ÒA spat with one of her
customers.Ó Becky tugged at my arm, eager for me to go swimming with
her.
ÒDid you get a spanking again?Ó Becky inquired. She clapped her hand
to the back of my skirt.
ÒYes,Ó I hissed, for the slightest touch hurt my raw bottom.
ÒOooo, can I see it?Ó she asked.
ÒNo, you may not,Ó Cybil told her. ÒGo watch cartoons.Ó
ÒBugs Bonker isnÕt on,Ó Becky whined.
ÒOf course not! I hope they donÕt show that trash at noon!Ó Cybil
said.
ÒWhy does he always stick his thing in Porky?Ó Becky asked. ÒHe
never puts in it La Pew, only in Porky, and Elmer, and Tweetie! I like
Tweetie. Except Tweetie always says Bugs is too big for him.Ó
ÒGod! The things they show on T.V. these days!Ó Cybil cried. ÒBecky,
I donÕt want you ever watching that show again, okay?Ó
ÒOkay,Ó Becky replied, but as I turned to go up the stairs I saw she
had her fingers crossed behind her back. She was curious, just like me.
Walking up the front stairs, feeling my bottom tingle painfully in my
soft panties with every step, I knew I wished to go on one more mission of
love. One more, before I joined Kali back in America, on the stair-
steppers that went nowhere.
I played by the pool. I waited for the days to pass and my bottom to
heal. I endured Becky, who pulled the seat of my swimsuit down every day
and insisted looking at the progress of my receeding marks.
ÒOooo, you must have been quite naughty,Ó Becky said, exploring my
soft uprisen fanny. Her Play-Doh-covered fingers delved between my
cheeks. She was making penises with her Play-Doh, setting them up like
missiles to dry in the sun beside the glittering pool.
ÒBecky, not THERE!Ó I protested. I tried to roll my bottom out of
harmÕs way. Her finger burrowed into my little hole.
Cybil appeared, carrying a portable phone.
ÒCall for you,Ó she smiled.
ÒYes?Ó I asked.
ÒBecky, donÕt stick your finger up MelodyÕs bottom,Ó Cybil said. She
slapped the girlÕs hand lightly but then turned away. I wondered at that.
Was she training her daughter to play with girls, for the enjoyment of
men? Or simply allowing her daughter to train herself? The result would
be the same. I wished Bugs Bonker was on.
ÒOoooh, IÕm going to do you just like Bugs does to Porky,Ó Becky
announced behind me. I let out a yelp as her finger went deeper. ÒI wish I
had a penis,Ó Becky said.
ÒYes, I can meet you this Friday, if youÕre a friend of Sir LÕs,Ó I said
to the voice on the phone. It was a man. He and his wife had called Cybil,
requesting me. My bottom would be all better by then.
ÒYes, my ass is fine, or it will be,Ó I said. ÒIÕve just got a little
girlÕs finger up it right now, thatÕs all.Ó
ÒGood, for I, well, I may want to train it a little,Ó the husky voice
said to me. ÒMy wife and I,Ó that is.
ÒYou sound very handsome, sir,Ó I said. I blushed and wriggled my
hips, glad he couldnÕt see me. Becky giggled. I felt a desire to have
something in my other hole, the one Becky wasnÕt playing in.
ÒYes, IÕm handsome, donÕt worry,Ó he replied. ÒI wouldnÕt bother you
otherwise. But my wife insists on being present. We have a close
marriage. You donÕt mind?Ó
ÒNo, wives donÕt bother me... too much,Ó I answered. ÒBecky, get
your hand OUT of my bottom!Ó I scolded. I rolled on my hip and tried to
swat her away. Gleefully she forced her Play-DohÕed finger deeper inside
me.
ÒOh, goody! YouÕre just like Tweetie Bird!Ó Becky cried.
A womanÕs voice came on the phone and the man, who sounded so
excellent, was gone. She gave me their address. I tried to write it down
but I had no pencil. I felt a drool of spittle drop onto my heinie.
ÒCall Cybil back and tell her,Ó I said to the woman. ÒAnd...Ó I felt
bold. ÒYour husband sounds gorgeous but I expect to be compensated.Ó
ÒOf couse,Ó the woman answered.
I clicked off the phone. I hated to charge for my body but I wanted to
go home soon. I didnÕt want to have to ask Cybil for more money. I would
earn it myself, and if I was lucky, sheÕd make sure I got a nice packet from
them for my efforts.
ÒBecky, this is my bottom, not yours,Ó I said. I reached back behind
myself and clutched at her wrist and drew her Play-DohÕed finger, now
coated with a bit more than Play-Doh, out of my bottom.
ÒOh, it was fun,Ó Becky said. She gave me a big 9-year-old grin.
ÒI know, Becky. I know,Ó I replied. ÒBut youÕre a girl. YouÕre not
Bugs Bonker.Ó
ÒBut I WANNA be Bugs Bonker!Ó Becky offered, her eyes bright.
ÒBut youÕre not,Ó I said. And I turned her around and, as she
squirmed in my grip, I yanked down her swimsuit in back and gave her
little white bottom a slap. ÒBe good, or IÕll spank you.Ó I said.
ÒOook, you already have,Ó Becky said. She darted away from me,
escaping me somehow.
ÒThatÕs not a spanking. ThatÕs one slap,Ó I told her.
ÒItÕs enough for me!Ó Becky cried. And she dove into the pool like a
fish, escaping the hook of the fisherman.
30
----------------------- Dreamgirls! -----------------------
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-----Great books by David Hamilton: The Age of Innocence, A Place
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Radiant Identities Need a book? http://www.amazon.com
-----Great sites:
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-Naughty Naked Dreamgirls (Library of Congress ISSN: 1070-1427) is
copyright 1998 and a trademark of Andrew Roller. Work by others
copyright 1998 by the respective copyright holder.
-END OF story EMISSION