Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
Issue No. 118    alt.sex.stories  

D R E A M G I R L S  S T O R I E S
Love Child
Part Eleven
by Andrew Roller

Chapter Three

         The chateau was conservative, precisely built, almost resembling 
a salt-box house in its design.  The wooden planks seemed to hide no 
secrets.  A pastor might have lived within its walls, preparing his 
sermons.  The roof, neatly decked with snow, shimmered in the morning 
sunlight.  Perhaps a bit of heaven dwelt there.  Angels, liberated from a 
pinhead, danced in uncounted numbers in the twinkling glare.      
         We disembarked from the coach and were let into the chateau by a 
husband and wife.  They were bright, cheerful, by all appearances an 
ordinary couple.  They had known we were coming.  All had been 
arranged, apparently, between themselves and mistress, privately.  
They were friends of mistress, though not of the general.  The husband 
was a political rival of his of some sort.  The politics of the place 
eluded me.  
         Despite the conservative appearance of the house, no time was 
wasted.  Our coats were taken at once.  The wife did not ask if she 
could, she simply assumed, and unwrapped us.  Mandy first, then me.  
Mistress shed her own coat and gave it to the man of the house.  They 
exchanged smiles.  His eyes admired her figure, then drifted to mine, 
MandyÕs.  Our bikinis were duly admired.  The husband was young, 
handsome.  The wife showed as much interest in me as he did.  
         I felt naked under their eyes and, thinking back, I suppose we 
could have arrived naked.  Just from their glances I could tell we would 
be sharing some secret with them, perhaps ourselves, perhaps 
something about ourselves.  Something you didnÕt just let anyone in on.  
But they would know.  They would know all.  Manners, I guess, dictated 
some little show of modesty at first.  Even if that modesty was no 
more than a pair of trifling bikinis.  One must not be too obvious, 
though in our circumstances the mannerly part was not destined to last 
long.
         ÒCome,Ó the wife smiled.  Her hair was pretty, I thought.  Her 
hands, beckoning, were graceful.  I might have been at the beach, in my 
bikini, Mandy too, except there was snow outside.  I tossed my head.  I 
tried to be casual.  Perhaps we would go swimming together in a heated 
swimming pool.  The couple would slip out of their clothes, be found to 
have swimsuits beneath.  We would play innocent games in the pool and 
shower afterward.  We would spend the evening reciting prayers to 
Jesus.  Chastely, we would retire to separate beds.  Then, watching the 
wife open what looked to be a closet door, I gulped.  Closets did not 
lead to swimming pools.  Closets led to hidden places, and forbidden 
games.  Mistress, following, pushed me forward.  Her hands rested on 
my bare waist.  The husband squeezed into the closet with her and they 
shared a kiss, I think, even as the wife led the way deeper into the 
closet.  The floor gave way to stairs and we descended.  Mandy almost 
tripped; reaching out, I caught her, even as mistress kept hold of my 
waist.  It was that quick, our arrival, and our immediate descent into 
the sort of place Dante might have liked, all flesh and curdling screams 
and bared desires.  An opened door, a rustle of clothing pushed back, a 
forward moving of my feet, MandyÕs, urged by mistress.    
         The wife led us downstairs.  She and her husband had a private 
dungeon of their own.  There was no preliminary chit-chat, no tour of 
their home.  Just a nod, an exchange of glances with mistress.  And a 
moment later we were downstairs, in a little rec room, at the doorway 
to their dungeon.  Beside us was a pool table, a t.v., as if the couple 
kept them handy as a useful facade.  As a last attempt to keep out 
unwanted intruders.  ÔOh,Õ a building inspector might say, ÔI see this is 
nothing but a little game room, down here.  I wondered, you know...Õ  And 
then he would sign the permit.  Never knowing, never guessing.  But I 
knew.  For the door just beyond was open, and I was gazing into the 
hidden chamber beyond.  A dungeon, carpeted, with pastel-colored 
walls, innocent looking, just like the rec room.  Except it was furnished 
with a trestle, with restraints lying about the legs, loose, waiting for 
wrists and ankles.  Not a medieval dungeon, this, but still unmistakable 
in its purpose.  Gazing in at the trestle, and other things besides, I was 
not fooled.  We wouldnÕt be going swimming.  We might make water, but 
we wouldnÕt be in water.  I sleeked my hands over the front of my lycra 
panties.  I let my eyes glance down, around.  There was myself, Mandy, 
mistress and Arthur.  We would be the ones in the dungeon, I guessed.  
Just us, not the couple.  Us in our bikinis.  Arthur stripped down to his 
Italian Stallion costume, wearing nothing but his gloves and his 
testicle pouch, plus his very necessary boots and collar.  
         For the moment, Arthur still wore his trench coat.  Mistress still 
wore her shirt and jeans.  The husband and wife were clothed.  The 
couple would not be playing with us, though, they said.  They spoke 
matter-of-factly, as if there were no dispute as to what we were here 
for.  
         ÒYouÕre welcome to the use of our room,Ó the wife told mistress.  
She meant their dungeon, of course.  They were giving us the use of it 
as a favor.
         "My, this is all new since I last visited!" mistress said.  Mandy and 
I stood mesmerized.  There was no bed in the dungeon but plenty of 
strange looking "furniture," if it could be called that.  I did not want to 
go inside but could not help myself, so strange and fascinating did it all 
appear.  I found MandyÕs hand, squeezed it tight.  She squeezed mine 
back, reassuringly.  With hesitant steps we stepped into the dungeon.  
The others followed.  
         "It's specially designed for sexual activity, with complete 
privacy," the young wife told us.  "Bob and I built much of it ourselves."
         "Quite a job," mistress replied.
         "You should have seen me," the wife laughed.  "I was naked except 
for my work belt, hammering and sawing and sweating away down here.  
I could hardly ever get anything done, Bob kept saying how absolutely 
sexy I looked and insisting we take a break."  She clasped her husband's 
hand and they exchanged loving glances.  "Anyway, itÕs totally 
soundproofed, so you needn't worry about bothering us.  There's plenty 
of food in the little fridge, so you can stay down here for several days 
if you like.  There's a real bathroom in here too in case you get tired of 
washing each other with buckets and peeing into chamberpots."
         "You seem to have thought of everything," mistress replied, 
admiring the place, sizing it up.
         "Well, there's no bed," the wife replied.  "When you get really tired 
you'll have to come upstairs to sleep.  But then, I've known people 
who've stayed down here for over 40 hours before even thinking of 
sleeping."
         "Then they're so worn out they sleep for days," her husband 
laughed.  
         "Not exactly the perfect guests, I suppose," mistress observed.
         "Oh, they're quite delightful when they finally do come round," the 
wife said.  "You find them topless at the breakfast table, absolutely 
glowing, wolfing down food and chatting merrily.  Of course they 
sometimes have a few extra cushions under their tushies."
         "Everything has a price," mistress said philosophically.
         "Well, you need not worry about paying one here," the wife said.  
"Save that which you extract from each other for your mutual pleasure.  
Use the room as long as you like.  There's a key in the dresser so you 
can lock the door for absolute privacy."  She departed then, hand in hand 
with her husband, leaving us to ourselves.  Mistress got the key and 
shut the door, locked it.  She turned and looked at us.  By her eyes I 
could see there would not be any waiting, any interval in which one 
might weigh possibilities.  Did I wish for there to be?  I did not know.
         Arthur put his hands to his hips.  He surveyed the room, us, letting 
his coat fall open.  He looked like a general sizing up the battlefield, 
the soldiers, just before commencement of the war.  He tried no longer 
to hide his beauty.  His hairy chest showed, his hairy legs.  He was 
erect, his balls achingly, bulgingly full.  I squeezed MandyÕs hand hard, 
seeing him expose himself so casually.  I realized that my nipples were 
stiff, stiffer than theyÕd ever felt in my life.  They protruded 
noticeably into my bra.  MandyÕs too, stood upright, as did mistressÕ, 
tenting her blouse.    
         "Take all your things off," mistress said to Mandy and I.  We 
looked at each other.  There was no going back now, was there?  We 
were too hot, too excited.  We stood unsteadily, still holding hands, 
Mandy a bit fearful, me scared.  And then I let go of her hand.  She 
seemed even more frightened as she saw my hand slip away, leaving her 
own her own, bereft.  She would have to make her own decisions now.  
She would have to be a big girl.  And then, she smiled.  Just like that.  
She accepted the challenge, as did I.  My gloved fingers slid along the 
waistband of my panties, testing them, reproving them for being there.  
Mandy reached up, behind herself, caught the back of her bra with her 
hands.  She pulled at the bow that held her bra tight.  It loosened.  Her 
tits sticking out, she watched as they shuddered free of her bra.  I bit 
my lip and lowered my panties.  My pussy showed.  I did not stop, but 
kept on pushing my undies down, letting all be seen.  And then they 
were somewhere around my ankles, and I was stepping out of them, 
gracefully as I could.   
         We slipped out of our bikinis, sat down and yanked off our boots.  
Then, reluctantly, we untied the little laces at the back of our gloves.  I 
slipped mine off, ladylike.  I placed them on the bench beside me.  It 
was hard wood, polished.  All the floor was soft, carpeted, but this 
bench, the only chair of worth that I could see, was made of oak.  Not 
the most comfy place for a girl to rest her bare bottom.  No bed, no 
chairs, how curious this place was!  What were people to do in here?  I 
gulped, glancing at the trestle.  Mandy plopped her gloves beside me.  
Mistress took hers off too, dropped them atop MandyÕs.  I smiled up at 
her, she gazed at me with a superior look.  Arthur shed his coat.  He 
wanted to take off his testicle pouch, but mistress told him Ôno.Õ  Just 
like that.  Like one might instruct a dog.  ÒNo, Arthur,Ó she said.  And in 
his strength, his chest rippling, his biceps flexing, he relented.  He let 
go of the little leather tie back between his legs that would have 
unbound his balls.  But he frowned at her, unhappy.  She smiled.  She 
checked his pouch to see that it was not squeezing his balls too tightly.
         ÒPoor thing,Ó she chided.  ÒAre you too full?Ó
         ÒYou know this damn thing kills me,Ó he answered.  ÒItÕs okay 
when IÕm empty, I guess, but IÕm not empty now.Ó
         ÒI can see that, dear,Ó mistress answered.  She stroked the 
underside of his ball pouch.  ÒThatÕs what weÕre here for.  YouÕve got 
three cunts to fill, three mouths, three tiny little buttholes, and a dumb 
blonde like me canÕt even count how many hands youÕve got.  Not 
including your own, of course,Ó she smirked.  ÒYouÕd best be able to 
fulfill your duties.Ó
         ÒIÕm not called a one-man gang bang for nothing,Ó Arthur 
answered.  He was clearly annoyed at her teasing, though he still let 
her fondle him as freely as she might.  ÒI killed a girl once, fucking her 
too hard.Ó
         ÒAh, so thatÕs why you must hide out in dreary dungeons,Ó 
mistress smiled.  ÒI learn a little more about you each time we meet.Ó  
She took his cock and yanked it way down, then let go.  TWANNNG!  I 
heard in my mind, as I watched ArthurÕs cock spring up and down like 
some elongated yo-yo.  Mistress burst out laughing.  I giggled too, as 
did Mandy, clapping a hand to her mouth for fear of offending Arthur.  He 
did not look amused.  But, interestingly, mistress was the one wearing 
pants.  He had to content himself with a ball pouch.  I smiled at him, 
trying to soften the sense of abuse he must have felt.  He was truly a 
rare and wonderful animal.  I felt like some maiden must have, just 
before being kidnapped and taken away by Zeus.  Except here Hera ruled, 
and perhaps us also, if she permitted it.  I let my eyes soak in his form, 
wondering if IÕd ever sit before such a glorious man again.  Slowly, 
knowing where my eyes really wanted to fixate, to salivate, I trained 
my vision on his groin.  I looked unabashedly and, reaching out again for 
MandyÕs hand, I think she did too.  He gazed back at us, taking us in as 
freely and unashamedly as we took in him.  I let my legs remain open.  I 
did not try to close or cross them.  My pussy showed between, I was 
naked, as bare as a newborn now.  Mandy too did not bother closing her 
legs.  All the lessons mommies and teachers had taught us were 
forgotten, sitting before Arthur.  He did not want us to close our legs, I 
could see, and we complied.  Our little cunts lay bare before him, soft 
and inviting.  15-year-old cunts, ÒchildrenÕs cunts,Ó as the feminists 
would certainly insist, but Arthur drank them in as willingly as if 
theyÕd been the cunts of women, Oprah WinfreyÕs, perhaps, or Andrea 
DworkinÕs.  Unembarrassedly we stared at him, and I sized up his 
equipment.   
         His cock stuck out like a prong.  There was no other way to 
explain it.  Out it came at you, like something from Aliens, all fat and 
fleshy, with only one purpose in the world.  As for his balls, he looked 
like he was just about bursting, so wonderfully full was he with seed.  
His balls, constrained in the tight leather, nonetheless hung with 
visible weight between his thighs, looking like some brown-clad 
wrecking ball hanging there.  He was with seed and we would be with 
child if precautions werenÕt taken, I knew.  Which is why mistress' next 
step, after removing her blouse, still leaving her pants on, was to get 
us each a glass of water and a birth control pill.  I watched her walking 
to the bathroom, her back naked, slim, her hair swaying mane-like 
across it.  I listened as she filled glasses for Mandy and I.  Arthur 
smiled, smugly.  He knew he held the very thing we had to guard against.  
It was in his body, and it would soon be in ours.  I shivered.  I guessed 
the Ògrand openingÓ night had to be done without pills, for purity.  I 
was kind of glad IÕd done it naturally, though I feared being pregnant.  
Hopefully a good girl like me didnÕt get pregnant with her first fuck.  
Hopefully.  Now, though, I wished to be more careful.  I was glad for the 
pills, and I could see little Mandy was too.  Fortunately our hosts had 
thought to supply such.  I glanced around at the ÒfurnitureÓ again.  The 
trestle, a nightstand busy with lubricants, a flower vase stuffed with 
condoms.  The room had indeed been designed exclusively for sexual 
labors.  But not to any productive end.  The Pope would be most 
displeased.  All our exertions would be for pleasure only. 
         ÒHurry up, bitch!  Or IÕll break your arm again!Ó Arthur yelled.  He 
was growing impatient.  I felt my throat constrict.
         ÒOhhh, donÕt I know it!Ó mistress answered, running out from the 
bathroom.  She held a glass of water for myself and Mandy.  Its contents 
sloshed about.  Above the tightness of her jeans her lovely breasts 
bounced lewdly.  Her nipples were sharp peaks.
         ÒHe broke your arm?Ó Mandy asked mistress.  
         ÒShhh, dear, swallow your pill,Ó mistress answered.  Her words 
seemed reassuring.  I dismissed ArthurÕs threat as manly hubris.  Mandy 
took a pale pink pill from mistressÕ open palm, took a second, offered it 
to me.  I accepted.  A third remained, for mistress.  Even with her sexy 
jeans on, she was still female, a womb.  She might wear the pants here, 
but an emission from Arthur would make her five sizes too big for 
them, perhaps forever.  Mistress popped her own pill in her mouth and 
swallowed it down with a swish from her glass.  Her lipstick stained 
the side of the glass, I did not mind.  Mandy seemed not to either.  We 
were all together in this.  We would share more intimacies than a glass 
of water, I knew, even as we had the night before. 
         Mandy and I dutifully swallowed our pills.  We trembled a little, 
still obviously unsure of ourselves.  It seemed so sinful, yet so 
tempting, to be here.  A part of me wanted to flee, but my devilish side 
kept winning round after round with my guardian angel.
         And now Mandy looked like she was bereft of her angel's 
protection entirely.  She gritted her teeth over her gag, whining, eyes 
weeping.  
         Swick!  Mistress' cane zinged her awful tormented bottom once 
more, making the girl flinch and Arthur grow.  I watched it all with my 
heart pounding beneath my frail ribs.  Could I go through with it?  
Would I?  I longed for the woman of the house and her husband to come 
back down and interrupt us, to take the decision from me.  Perhaps they 
could evict us for not paying our rent.  Surely such a room should be 
rented, not merely given away for free, even to friends.  I prayed, but 
they did not knock, did not play Landlord.  Instead, Arthur stood calmly 
greasing his cock.  He held a jar of vaseline, applied its contents with 
smooth strokes.  HeÕd found it on the nighttable.  There were all sorts 
of exotic lubricants there, but heÕd settled on old reliable.  ÔGrease Ôem 
up, boys, weÕre going in.  Nothing fancy,Õ I heard a drill-sergeant bark 
into my imagination.  I saw platoons of Marines dropping their pants, 
lubing their dongs.  They would parachute in without pants and fuck 
maidens like me behind enemy lines.  Milkmaids, and flower girls at 
corner stalls, and the girl in the candy store, wondering at the length of 
the candy canes until the soldiers burst in and showed her sweeter 
treats.  ÔOh, sir!Õ she would protest.  ÔThe sausage store is down the 
street!  You need to make your deliveries there!Õ  They would hold her 
then, and make her take their big things.  Up her cunt, in her ass, all 
greased and lubed and ready to go, no introductions necessary.  She 
would squeal and find that sausages in a candy store were not so bad 
after all.

D R E A M G I R L S  S I N G - A - L O N G

IÕm no fool, no siree
I donÕt want a woman whoÕs 33,
I want someone whoÕs young and pretty
Ôcause IÕm no fool!

IÕm no fool, no siree,
I donÕt want a bitch whoÕs fat and hairy
I want a girl with a crush on me,
Ôcause IÕm no fool!

IÕm no fool, no siree,
I know Janet RenoÕs out for me,
SheÕll stick me with ÒMiss Over 30,Ó
But IÕm no fool!

IÕm no fool, no siree,
I wonÕt be dating Òmy career is me,Ó
I know thereÕs somethinÕ better for me,
Ôcause IÕm no fool!

IÕm no fool, no siree,
Marsha Clark can forget about me,
Cherry Hill High is where IÕll be,
Ôcause IÕm no fool!

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