Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
No. 113 alt.sex.stories
D R E A M G I R L S S T O R I E S
Love Child
Part Six
by Andrew Roller
Chapter Two
I plopped my lemon into the bucket reserved just for me. My
valuable lemon, which spared my fanny from a whipping so long as I
kept it aloft. I dropped my spoon on the floor beside the bucket. I
hoped the floor was clean. It looked clean. I gazed up at the cock which
loomed over me. My new boyfriend grinned down at me. My lifeguard.
What was his name? Would I ever know? My hands pressed to the
carpet between my knees, I lifted up as best I could and enclosed him
with my lips.
"Mmm," I said, sucking on his cockhead, hoping to inspire him to
cum. I was mindful of Janet right behind me, watching my every move,
judging my performance. The lifeguard just kept grinning, as cool and
calm as any suntanned god guarding the beach. He was seemingly
unaffected by my ministrations. Janet passed back and forth behind
me, impatient, her pony lash aimlessly flicking the air. Vigorously I
began blow-jobbing the man. I imitated Kimber as best I could.
Silently I prayed for him to release his seed.
"Thirty seconds!" a woman keeping time behind my boyfriend
yelled. There was a woman for each man, serving as judge, like at a
swim meet. Reluctantly I let go of the lifeguard. His cock quavered
wetly before me. I looked at his balls. They were tight, but he was
contained. He would not cum on this round. He helped me get my spoon
and lemon back into my mouth. I turned around and once more raced
back across the room. More whipped cream assailed me as I passed
through the middle. The partiers were aiming more directly now, even
stepping out into the racecourse to hit each girl squarely. I had to
dodge one of them who stood in my way. He was spraying another girl.
I'm sure they weren't supposed to block our path but, with all the
people involved, there were bound to be a few mishaps. I raced on,
whipped cream splotching my bottom, fired from somewhere behind me.
I reached my second eager boyfriend, also a stranger to me, and began
suckling away.
My second paramour proved as sturdy as my first, able to
withhold himself despite my best efforts. Back across the room I
went, and this time the guests were to give each of us a lash across the
bottom. I howled and nearly lost my spoon as a woman struck me quite
smartly right across my seat, a perfect hit for a girl who was proving
to have a less than perfect record in the blow job department. Some
men were already filling in as replacements now, and they got the same
treatment as we girls. I shot an admiring glance at their dangling
pricks and balls, which no doubt would hurt even more than my bottom
if they met with a whip.
The job of each man in the race, each horsey man, was to eat the
pussy of the woman at either end who had kept time, there being one
woman keeping time for each man. When he finally made one of the
timekeepers orgasm, the man could leave. The man himself had to keep
time of his own efforts. Janet, though, was never far off, making sure
that no cheating took place. Armed with a birch and a whip, she was
not to be messed with.
Suddenly I dropped my lemon. I was out in the middle of the rug,
not near the ice bucket that calmly waited for me at the other end.
Janet was upon me instantly, giving my poor tushy two brisk swats
with her birch rod. Ah! That was cruel. Those little buds were much
worse than her whip, stinging me all across my bare seat. Tears burst
from me as I fumbled my spoon and lemon back into my mouth. My
chains clinked, my manacled wrists were heavy. With trembling hands I
restored my spoon and lemon. Then I scurried off again, my bottom
flaming. I sniffled, wet cheeked. An unexpected sense of eroticism
washed over me. My clitty budded in my cunt. My breasts felt
deliciously alive, full and ripe and dangling down from my chest. My
bottom felt enormous, my every movement seemed to flex my hot hind
cheeks in sensual new ways. I reached my lifeguard and sucked him
passionately. I was aware as never before of my nakedness, stiff
nippled, my clitty burning. I wanted to rub myself there but was too
shy.
Back across the room I went, still sniffling from my brush with
JanetÕs birch. A whip stung me twice on the way back, wielded by yet
another avaricious woman. Two swift cracks through the air, bringing
just the tip of the whip into contact with my hiney, yet they impelled
me ever faster toward the safety of the far side, the waiting cock of
the law student.
As luck would have it, I eventually found myself the second to
last girl in the race. A petite brunette, about my age, still struggled
on, all the other females were gone. By now I'd been hit in the face
with whipped cream, and my hair was sodden with the stuff. My bottom
burned from being swatted and stung by the gleeful partiers. I hurried
between my men, milking each in turn, but neither would come. All of a
sudden the petite brunette began crying loudly. I looked over and saw
her peeing in the middle of the room, right on the carpet! Janet was
livid with rage, lifting her birch rod, about to strike as never before.
And then, just as suddenly, I was aware of a sprinkling between my own
legs as well. I looked down between my heavy breasts, saw a stream of
urine gushing forth from my own dell! Before Janet could castigate
either of us the general called a halt to the contest and said he'd take
care of us naughty girls himself.
Men with freely displayed cocks and balls came to us and lifted us
and carried us bodily from the room, our pee still spritzing out all over
the place. We were taken, just the two of us, down a long hall.
Paintings on the wall stared out at us as we passed. Ancient relatives,
smug in eighteenth-century attire. They would not approve of buck-
naked girls scampering about in front of their son, the noble general. I
felt like a trollop, disgraced. I wanted to hide my eyes from the
haunting portraits and call 911.
We were carried through a door. It was big, heavy, made of sturdy
wood, banded with iron. It slammed shut behind us. The men hauled us
down a flight of stairs into a cold, dimly lit cellar. They put me down,
put down the other girl. I felt the cool flagstones beneath my feet.
They were hard, uncompromising. I was in a princeÕs dungeon. He would
force confessions from me. I would tell all. I would keep nothing from
him. A drop of pee liberated itself from my cunny and plinked upon the
floor.
Our masters stripped everything off us, hastily, as if tearing
down a pair of horses after a long ride. I was afraid. I thought for sure
they intended to rape us. But instead they re-shackled our wrists, and
did the same to our ankles. I felt some relief at this, knowing that they
probably wouldn't go to this extra trouble if they were eager to get
their cocks up us.
We were turned about. Twin girls, our wrists and ankles chained,
completely naked. I saw two cages. They were such as a child might
stand in, but not an adult. They had long slim bars of wrought iron.
Our guards pushed us forward, stuffed us into the cages with the
wrought iron bars, one for each of us. The cages were too small to
stand up in. I crouched, found a velvet cushion to sit upon. It was
sprinkled with rose petals. It had been placed there intentionally, just
for me, for my naked bottom. Amidst the perfume of the petals the
guards left us, still nude and shackled, shivering. I saw a coarse
woolen blanket in the corner of my cell and pulled it up around me.
I was so scared I sat right on my hiney, ignoring the flaming pain
in my tush. As I sat, stunned, for what must have been many minutes,
the stinging in my ass began to be transformed into a kind of deep
warmth. Slowly I started to enjoy the feeling. It was nice, in such a
chilly dungeon. I felt like a naughty mare who had been punished, no
doubt deservedly, by her stern master. He would train me and use my
bottom to teach me lessons I needed to learn. I touched my clit and
shivered. I touched myself again. Swearing silently at myself, I began
to masturbate. Thankfully the other girl began to do the same.
When the general arrived we were both in the throes of self-
inflicted passion. We were swooning in our cages, bursting with
repeated orgasms. Our breasts shook; our legs, bent, opened and closed
like scissors, scissoring thighs, wishing to clamp upon the torso of a
man. He got a cold bucket of water and threw it on each of us, through
the bars, to cool us down. Ashamedly we paid attention to him then,
sitting contritely as he told us of his plans for our young, errant bodies.
He spoke of the army, and how he learned as a soldier in it of the
need for discipline. He said it must be applied fairly but firmly. He
said we were fortunate to have him, for he had served as a boot camp
drill instructor. Once we were trained properly we would not cum at
our own whim, like little girls, but would behave as proper young
women and cum only when our "paramour," as he put it, told us to.
The general ordered a hose brought and we were sprayed with it,
still in our cages, by the same men who had brought us down into this
dank cellar. Like little girls at a pool we screamed, were we happy?
ÒStop screaming, girls!Ó I heard my mother admonish me, in my mind.
Would she mind, now, I wondered? But mommie, big men with big cocks
are spraying me as I sit in my little cage. Then it was a pretend cage,
formed by two chaise lounges. Now it was real. But how real was it?
How captive was I? I seemed very captive, but was I really only
captivated by my own desires? No, surely not. A nice girl like me did
not have desires. Oprah Winfrey could tell you that, any day of the
week on T.V. Teenage girls did not have desires. Certainly not for big
men with big cocks. Maybe for the pimply boy next door, sure, still
waiting for his cock to grow. But never for men. We had chastity belts
locked round our minds. Except, somebody had unlocked mine, I feared.
The menÕs stiff cocks wiggled all about as they vigorously
directed the jet of their hose into every crevice of my body. The
brunette received no less thorough a cleansing. The men then opened
our cages and yanked out our drenched cushions. I thought of trying to
bolt free but the general was standing right there, tapping a leather
riding crop aimlessly against his leg. I remembered my bottom and
thought better of the idea. I didn't necessarily enjoy being imprisoned
like some zoo animal, but my poor hiney absolutely insisted that I not
do anything that would get it into further trouble. Today was not the
day for this little urchin to play Ôchase me,Õ no indeed. New cushions
were placed in our cages. The men closed the wrought-iron doors once
more and locked them. We were each given a battery operated
blowdrier and told to dry off our "lovely hair," by the general, "both on
top of your heads and between your pretty legs. You must expect from
now on to be admired equally in both places." I must confess that by
now, having cooled off from my orgasm, I was much more circumspect
about my prospects at his hands, but I did as I was told.
The general left then, with his well-hung servants right behind
him, their cocks still at attention. The brunette and I gazed after them
with dreamy eyes, admiring their sculpted, compact haunches, which
were as bare as their genitals. When we had dried ourselves we used
the hot air from the blowdriers to keep ourselves warm. The brunette
seemed to be particularly chilly between her legs. Finally I asked her
her name.
"Mandy," she replied, with a Spanish, south-of-the-border drawl.
I told her my name was Barbi but otherwise we did not speak. Despite
her accent her skin was as white as mine. It glowed softly in the dim
light of our dungeon.
We had been alone for about an hour when a woman appeared. She
was blonde, with a haughty demeanor, and dressed in an evening gown.
She held a pony whip in one hand, trifles of silk in the other. I
wondered at them. They were pretty.
"Here, put these on," the blonde said to each of us. She passed a
pair of panties through the bars of each of our cages. "You are to be
seen in polite company," the woman explained. Hunched in my cage I
struggled into my new undies. They were shockingly brief. I couldn't
get them up over the half-way point of my bottom cheeks, wincing as I
strove to pull them higher. They were luxuriously soft, made of some
fine white lace, but my red bottom still burned from the horsey race.
My pussy hairs curled springily, naughtily, out of the so-called
"waistband" of my panties in front, which should more properly have
been called a "pussy-band." The woman then unlocked our cages and
beckoned us out.
Gratefully we stood up and stretched, relishing our new freedom
outside the cages. We were nymphs, fawns. We were free of our trappy
cages, though still captive. The hunter would make pets of us. He
would keep us for our beauty. My chains clinked coldly against my skin.
I felt fresh, alive. I wished to run naked in the snow outside and climb
upon the nearest peak and sit on it.
The woman barked at us and ordered us to stand at attention.
Shiveringly we obeyed. I was lost in myself, lost in my body, young and
pulsing with the heat of my naughty desire. I could feel my young,
weighty breasts upon my chest. My nipples were unbearably stiff.
Between my legs I was aroused again. It was the dungeon, its
chilliness, its certainty. I was still a virgin but I knew I was in
perilous straights. I was at the mercy of a male, virgin for only so long
as he kept me so. He could impale me at the slightest whim. This
woman would take me to him and he would spread me out on his bed and
fuck me.
Our blonde commander surveyed us all about with an examining
eye. I was grateful for my miniscule panties. They kept her from
prying into my special places. I wished for a bra to hide my stiff
nipples from her.
ÒYou have one more piece of attire to put on,Ó the woman intoned.
I felt a wave of relief. A bra! Yes! What else could it be? I would be
restored to as much modesty as I had on any beach. I would be pure
again. I would slip away in my little silken bikini and return to my high
school virginity. I would tease boys again, and be teased by the girls
for holding out. So what? It didnÕt matter now. IÕd been to the
generalÕs, and my hymen had survived. Could they say the same? Could
they say as much? Had they been horseys in a race, little rabbits,
surrounded by wolves with big, bad penises? I would boast that IÕd
bearded the lion and made off with my innocence intact.
To my glum surprise, the woman produced a pair of blindfolds. My
breath caught in my throat, audibly, but I said nothing. I was still
captive. I was still manacled, barely clad. I was still Pauline. I stood
at attention, trying not to shake, as the woman wrapped the fearful
band over my eyes.
Another appeared. I could not see who. A woman, a friend of the
blonde. She put a collar on me, on the brunette beside me. She leashed
us together. Following the click of her footsteps, listening to her
voice, I felt her line up the brunette behind me, position herself in
front of me. She would draw us forward, pulling on a leash that ran
from my collar to her hand. The brunette would stumble after me.
Speaking from behind, I heard our blonde commander. She would follow,
whip in hand. Our obedience was assured.
A walk ensued, just as IÕd predicted. It was made rather difficult
by our shackled hands and feet. Mercifully, the blonde did not insist on
a fast pace. She walked behind us, controlling all, the small pony whip
in her hand flicking the air.
We went upstairs, trod some distance on a soft carpet, and were
finally made to halt. The blonde told us we were back in the chateau's
dining room. Sure enough, as our blindfolds were removed we found
that we were. There was just the general, though, in his uniform, plus
two men, wearing tuxedoes. I guessed that they were his special
guests this evening, invited just to see us. Myself and Mandy, special
treats for their evening meal. The woman whoÕd led us into the room
disappeared. She was not needed, apparently. Only the blonde
remained, our blonde commander, elegant in her evening gown.
The general, sitting composed at the head of the table, bade Mandy
and I to sit. The two men in tuxedos rose and drew back our chairs for
us. I noticed that my chair had an extra cushion on it for my bottom.
Nonetheless I let out a little cry as I sat my poor butt upon it. The men
smiled broadly at each other. Even the woman whoÕd brought us seemed
amused. The three of them sat and the general called out for dinner. It
would be a spaghetti dinner, with meatballs, sauce, and red wine.
Candles were lit. The lights were dimmed.
As the meal was brought forth by servants I began eating as I had
here before, but my status was clearly different now. I was no longer
the casual guest. My wrists were chained together. I could not kick my
feet back and forth like a school girl as I had before. Or, rather, I still
could, but the noise from the chains would be too obvious. It would get
me a scolding. I must eat daintily, quietly, keeping my chains from
clinking as much as possible. This I knew without being told. The meal
was to be decorous, civilized. We were to be polite young ladies, Mandy
and I.
Unlike the others at table Mandy and I were practically nude. I
ate with lowered eyes, accepting for the moment at least my new role
as slave. A love slave, I had no doubt, yet I was still a virgin. I
wondered if the general actually knew. Of course, he had to, that was
why I was here. Yet I felt that I had been chosen somehow, over the
other girls. Myself, and Mandy too. Was she a virgin also? Briefly I
looked up at her. She ate submissively, as I did. Yet, did I sense a
certain pride in her manner? She twirled her spaghetti on her fork and
lifted it to her lips, her soft, full breasts jostling one another as she
moved. All eyes at the table were on us. Proudly I lifted my fork to my
own mouth, feeling my own breasts move as I did. I felt a ripple of
excitement run through me. My nipples, already hard, seemed to stiffen
further. I might have gotten straight A's at school, but that was not
what I was wanted for now. I felt safe and, despite the whining of my
bottom, I was comfortable. I knew the general could and would protect
me from every danger in the world, save those he wished to impose on
me himself. Yet, is that not every girl's fate, to be protected from all
harm except that wrought by her lover's lust? The bloody piercing of
the hymen, the fierce rodding of the cunt, the mouth, the bottom; the
swelling of pregnancy and the pain of birth?
Only the general, the woman, and the two new gentlemen guests
were present at table. I wanted no one else. I did not wish to be seen
like this by everyone, just by the special few, the chosen. The
gentlemen had a satisfied air about them, like two cats admiring
captured canaries. They remarked on my beauty, analyzed my breasts
as if they were fine art, compared them to MandyÕs. The woman too
evaluated our looks, spoke a little jealously perhaps. She was our
chaperone, not to protect our virtue but to divest us of it. How much
more could we be divested, though? Alas, I knew. Had we been but
children, 10-years-old perhaps, or 8, female children, perhaps this
little naked presentation of ourselves would be enough. ÒTheir teats
are budding nicely,Ó the men might say. Or, Òsuch an angelic face, I do
hope she keeps it past puberty.Ó But with older girls, sleek, well-
formed, there would be more. Such men would not permit us to simply
show off our charms. They would have to test them, to mold them
perhaps, to squeeze and feel us...and to stick their things in us.
D R E A M G I R L S S I N G - A - L O N G
Exon and Hyde
Sitting in a tree,
F-U-C-K-I-N-G
First come perks,
Then come money,
Then comes Hyde all juicy and runny.
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