Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
No. 15    Friday    June 9, 1995  
alt.stories.erotic  alt.sex.stories

D R E A M G I R L S  S T O R I E S
Chambers of Love
Part Fifteen
by Andrew Roller 

Chapter Eight

         I located the lavatory (not "toilet," mind you, or "bathroom," for 
reasons you shall soon see.)  It was connected to our bedroom.  I walked 
over, went inside.  It was breathtaking, fascinating!  It was as big as 
the bedroom, with a fountain, an enormous marble tub, a countertop 
that beckoned a girl to do her makeup there.  Twin commodes stood 
discreetly in one corner, as if they had been installed just for us.  And 
there were twin bidets.
         "What?  I never?" Julie gasped, coming up behind.
         "No doubt we'll enjoy taking a shit in here," I remarked, my 
spunkiness returning.
         "Oh, Kimmy, don't be so crude," Julie scolded me.  "Try to at least 
live up to the manners of the count."  I looked around at her, taken 
aback.
         "I can see he's bought you off," I said.  
         "Not bought off," Julie replied, her eyes sparkling.  "Not bought 
off.  But if a man can provide a woman with this kind of comfort, well, 
he deserves something in return, don't you think?"
         "You sound like you want to marry him."  
         Julie bent her head floorward.  "I-I don't think we're going to have 
much choice," she said.  "He looks to me like he gets what he asks for.  I 
find that...alluring."
         "Rape?" I asked.
         "He won't rape me," Julie said.
***
         Dinner proved a formal affair, despite the semi-casual attire 
Julie and I wore.  Burton was there, as was the count, and another 
woman.  She was elegantly dressed in eveningwear, her hair pinned up 
loosely, wearing a sparkling, flowing dress of red dotted with pearls.  
Later I would learn what she wore underneath.  The count introduced 
her as Yvette and she approached us and gave us each a quick hug.  I 
squirmed under her embrace, a captive squirrel; Julie tried to be as 
glamourous as possible, succeeded.
         We were beckoned to the table by the count and took to our chairs 
in a cavernous room of carved wood.  Giant beams stretched overhead 
and ran along the walls.  I wondered at their age.  They gleamed in the 
light of overhead candlelit chandeliers.  I looked up, remembered a 
cartoon from some forbidden Playboy I'd looked at as a little girl.  
With barely a quaver in my voice I boldly remarked, 
         "I wonder what it would be like to swing from those?"  
         The count looked up, smiled.  "I'm sure we can find out."
***
         Serving men brought in our dinner.  They did not look at us.  They 
went to serve the count first, but he waved them on to us.  Curiously, 
Yvette sat at the head of the table, with me sitting on her right side, 
some distance away.  Down beyond me sat Julie.  Across from Julie and 
I, equidistant from us both, sat the count.  
         Julie took her portion, then I.  The serving dish was huge, with a 
sumptuous turkey inside, flowing with juices and butter.  From me the 
tray went to Yvette, and finally to the count.  Other selections 
followed, along with an appetizer, which the count asked forgiveness 
for serving with the meal.  He was hungry, he said, and had a long night 
ahead of him.
         "Of course, dear.  I'm sure they understand," Yvette replied.
         We ate silently in the hushed greatroom, only the clicks of an 
occasional knife or fork being heard.  I squirmed a bit, but tried not to 
embarrass Julie, though I wished to make a scene.  Was that being 
mature, or immature, I wondered?  I wanted to throw my food at the 
count, to run from this place.  But would he only laugh, and have his 
footmen catch me?     
***
         Yvette looked up from her meal, casually admired her count's new 
friends.  "They have such pretty busts, may we not see them?"  Yvette 
asked the count.
         "Yes, indeed.  Burton?"  The butler rose from his chair.  He walked 
first to Julie.  Gently he put his hands upon her blouse, from behind.           
"Forgive me, madam, but the presence of your breasts is required at 
dinner."  His unctuous British tone belied what was really happening.  
He undid her buttons one by one, then lifted out her glorious bosoms 
with the greatest of care, as if presenting hothouse fruit at some 
champion exhibition.  He strode over to me.  "Miss?" he asked, his tone 
respectful, formal.
         "I can unbutton myself," I said, lifting a hand.
         "No, no, that wouldn't be proper," he said.  Gently he replaced my 
hand upon the table.  In exasperation I looked at the count.  
         "Mind your manners, young lady," he commanded, and returned to 
his meal.  
         Yvette leaned toward me.  "You will be trained properly here," she 
said in an advisorial tone.  She tossed her hair, so elegant.  I let the 
butler strip me, opening my buttons to my midriff, leaving the rest 
closed, presenting my tits almost as if they were objects of art.  The 
nipples, stiffening at their newfound attention, wiggled naughtily.
         Our meal continued, much as before.  Julie and I glanced girlishly 
at each other, wonderingly, seeing each other's tits as if for the first 
time.  The count looked up now and then, admiringly.  Yvette caught my 
eye, smiled sweetly, glanced approvingly at my bosom.
         "We must play later," she said.
         Julie looked up.  "I know many games."  Her eyes became half-
lidded, then opened.  Yvette smiled at her.
         "Yes, we must all play," Yvette said.
         "I hope I'm included," the count said.  
         "Yes, dear, you'll be the guest of honor," Yvette replied.
         Julie looked from Yvette to her true object, the count.  I could tell 
she was in love with him now and yearned to do whatever he asked, 
whatever he demanded.  She begged to obey, like a dog, I thought.  Yet I 
had begged to obey with her husband.
         The count looked at me.  "Drink a bit more wine," he urged.  "You 
may find later that you need it."
         "Yessir," I said, lifting the baroque goblet to my lips.  I sipped, 
sipped again.  The wine was good.  I was falling under his spell.  My 
bottom would pay for it.
         Reluctantly I finished my dinner along with the others.
         "Dessert shall be served," announced the count.  It proved to be 
cherry-topped cheese cake.  "It is in your honor," the count said to 
Julie, then to me.  Yvette betrayed a smirk.
         "Thank you, it's delicious," Julie replied, the first to try a forkful.  
She was totally submissive now.  If I was to be wilful I would be 
totally alone.  A servant presented a recitation of available coffees 
with which we might wash down the cheese cake.  I chose mocha.  Julie 
chose cappuccino, and Yvette cafe au lait.  The count had espresso.  
Julie's coffee gave her a cream mustache.  Giggling, she licked it off, 
slowly, her eyes meeting the count's.
         A table-full of empty desert plates and demitasses soon littered 
the table.
         "Come, we must play now," Yvette said.  We rose, I last.  The count 
took Julie in one hand, then myself in the other.  I could see that 
someone was going to insist on taking my hand.  I didn't want it to be 
Yvette.  She strolled ahead, not the least disconsolate, as if proud to 
lead.  
         "All work and no play makes the count a dull boy," he smiled down 
at me.  Reluctantly I smiled back, then looked away.
         As we walked, a protuberance made itself visible  in the front of 
the count's trousers.  This was thanks to Julie, who was noticeably 
fawning over him as we strolled along.
         "Oh, my!" she exclaimed suddenly, pointing.  "You have a lump in 
your pants.  Is there anything I can do about it?"
         "Perhaps there is," the count replied.  "But let's wait 'till we get 
upstairs."
         "Just be sure you have that taken care of," Julie said.
         "I will."
         We approached a long wooden staircase, which led up to our 
rooms, and to the second floor.  Yvette wheeled about.
         "Oh, sir," Yvette said, addressing the count.  "I can hardly play in 
this dress, or the girls in theirs.  Would you come and remove it for 
me?"
         "Of course, dear," the count paused in his stride.  Swiftly his 
hands went to the zippers that topped the backs of our skirts.  Before I 
could resist Julie and I were being unzipped.  "It is but a small matter 
to undo the girls, let me do them first."  My dress collapsed about my 
ankles, as did Julie's.  I was left bereft save for my red panties.  "Tch, I 
should have bought thong panties, I much prefer them, but we can make 
do," the count mused, stepping behind me.  He slipped a finger into 
either side of the back of my panties and drew them inward until they 
were firmly in my butt crack.  I looked with wide eyes over my trim 
shoulder and caught a glimpse of my ass cheeks hanging out.  Julie 
suffered the same treatment, but did not mind.  The count then 
advanced to his lady and undid her.  I wanted to replace my panties but 
dared not.  
         Yvette's expensive dress dropped suddenly to the floor.  She was 
clad in purple panties and fishnet stockings, with amazingly high 
pumps.  She drew a pair of fingerless gloves from the waistband of her 
panties.  They were purple fishnet.  She slipped them on.  On the other 
side of her panties was a little dogwhip.  She drew it out of the 
panties' elastic.  Most amazingly, perhaps, she wore a demi-bra, which 
left her pointed nipples bare, covering only the undersides of her 
breasts with purple lace.  And I could vaguely make out her bush 
through the front of her panties, just as she could now see ours.
         Yvette stepped aside, admiring us.  "Lovely panties," she said as 
the count took both of us in hand and brought us forward to her.  We 
walked ahead now, up the polished staircase, as Yvette followed.  She 
swished her dog whip aimlessly.  I knew she was relishing the sight of 
our jiggling ass cheeks so rudely displayed, jutting out the abbreviated 
backs of our undies.
         "Here we work hard, and we play hard," the count explained to us 
in his smooth, gentlemanly tones.  I'm sure you'll find it much easier to 
play in earnest without your skirts."
         "Of course!" Julie agreed merrily.
         "You're much prettier without them too, I might add."
         "Thank you, sir," Julie chimed.  She was like the perfect Stepford 
wife, I thought, but flesh and blood.
         The count took us to a room, and led us in.
         "Ooooh!  A horsey," Julie exclaimed, and ran forward to a rococo-
looking wooden horse.  She hugged it round its neck.  "I used to have one 
of these as a little girl!" she gushed.
         "Do you remember how to ride it?" the count asked.
         "It's bigger, but I think I can manage.  If you'll help me up."  
         "Of course."  He strode forward, grasped Julie's pantied bottom, 
and hoisted her onto the horse.
         "Oh!  There's a lump here," Julie said, fingering a bulbous nub 
which lay just where her cunny should sit.
         "Ah yes," the count said, eyeing it.  "Just get atop it.  It shouldn't 
bother you, should it?"
         "But what is it for?" Julie asked, wide-eyed.
         "I shall have to ask Yvette when she comes in.  It's actually her 
horse, given to her many birthdays ago."
         "Mmm, it's beautiful," Julie said, gracefully stroking the fringed 
leather mane.
         "Come now, let's see you ride upon it," the count said.  Hesitantly 
Julie began to rock, holding the carved wooden neck.  
         "There are leather ties down along the forelegs, two on each 
side," Julie remarked.  
         "A special horse, no doubt."
         "Yes, sir."  Julie rocked more vigorously, alternately studying the 
horse and glowing at the count.
         Yvette slipped in, a smile on her face.  She waltzed up to Julie.
         "Thank you for letting me ride your horse," Julie said.
         "You're quite welcome," Yvette replied.  "May I spur you on?"  
         "If-if you wish," Julie answered.
         Yvette brandished her dog whip.  It had begun.
         CRACK!  A light one, leaving a tiny pink dot where it had struck.  
         "Ooch!" Julie cried, rocking harder.  Her big, shapely bottom stuck 
slightly off the back of the horse, a perfect target.  
         The whip swished forward again, harder this time, biting into the 
swell of her alluring white ass, bringing another yelp from her.
         "Like pointillist painting, don't you think?" the count remarked.  
"Eventually you'll have enough of those dots to turn her entire bottom 
pink."
         "I prefer a deeper shade of red," Yvette replied.
         "Of course, dear.  It's your horse."
         "Oooh, that nose thing is rubbing right on my spot!" Julie 
remarked.
         "How delightful," Yvette replied.  "No wonder I ride this horsey so 
much."
         "I shall get quite excited if this keeps up," Julie said.  
         "These are games for adults," Yvette replied.  "You are married, 
aren't you?"
         "Yes, m'lady."  
         "Now here's a real stinger, ready?"  Yvette let fly the whip.  It 
unfurled with a crisp bite, just the tip sinking into Julie's rump.
         "Yikes!  That one felt like a bee sting!" Julie bleated.  Tears 
brimmed in the corners of her eyes.  She shivered her almost-bare 
bottom, as if to shake off the sting.
         "Its only me, dear, not bees.  Here's another."
         "Oooch!" Julie bounded up, lifting her bottom, flinging the welled 
tears from her eyes.  "You're going to make me cry if you keep that up!"
         "Be brave, darling."
         "Oooch!" Julie winced, but bore it well.  More bitter bites 
followed.
         "Why must you sting so harshly?" Julie yelped.  "I'm riding as fast 
as I can."
         "You wiggle so under the bites, dear.  I cannot help it.  The count 
especially loves to see how you jump and waggle when the real stingers 
hit."
         "I'm feeling pain in my bottom and pleasure in my pussy, it's 
strange," Julie remarked between winces.
         "You will feel many new things here," Yvette said, and gave her 
another, which sent her howling.
         "You may cry if you wish dear," Yvette said.  "I have done so when 
I rode for the count."
         "Thank you," Julie said, and the next bite sent her into sniffles.
         I watched this spectacle with a hoped-for detached aloofness, but 
failed.  I truly found it interesting, wondered what it would be like if I 
were up there, dancing about, wiggling my pretty bottom for the count.  
Would he admire it like he was admiring Julie's?  Her tits, sticking out 
of her blouse, bobbled their large cones of flesh ceaselessly.  Julie was 
soon crying, but rode harder, chafing her little clitty against the big 
bulbous nub beneath her.
         "She would ride better without the panties," Yvette remarked.
         "Yes," the count agreed.  He strode forward and grasped Julie and 
her horse, stopping them instantly.  "You will enjoy the horsey more if I 
remove your undies.  Straighten your legs, that's it."  Julie lofted her 
bottom high.
         "Monsieur!  You are taking down my panties!" she cried, then 
announced, "Ooh!  My bottom hurts!" And stood completely up, if 
precariously, erecting her back, and rubbed her ass.  The horse shifted 
and she had to bend and take hold of it again.  Her undies were at her 
knees now and Yvette stepped forward with a scissors and snipped the 
gusset.  Julie plopped down on the horse as the count lofted the 
waistband of the ruined panties up over her boobies and her head.  He 
took the half-unbuttoned blouse with it, ripping open the remaining 
buttons to get it over her boobs.
         No sooner was Julie naked, save for her booties and earrings, that 
Yvette eased her down fully upon the neck of the horse, forcing one 
breast out on either side.  Before Julie could figure out what "M'lady" 
was up to, one of her hands was already swiftly tied down.  The ties 
along the foreleg held it.  Her other hand was just as quickly tied off.  
The count, drawing similar ties from his pocket, slipped off her booties 
and bound each of Julie's ankles to her stirrups.  By now Julie, jostled 
about, stripped of her remaining bits of clothing, felt like someone's 
battered luggage.
         "Oooh, I want to get off!" she whined, struggling.
         "Shush, dear, the real fun is about to begin," Yvette scolded.  She 
retreated to her former position, wheeled about, and let flash forth a 
real stinger.
         "Owwwch!" Julie cried, and sent the horse flying.
         "There we go, rock hard," Yvette announced.  The count stepped to 
the wall and pushed upon a button.  There was a buzzing sound.  Julie's 
eyes popped wide.
         "There's something...something coming up me!" she cried. 

D R E A M G I R L S  N E W S

HOT OFF THE PRESS!
by holy joe

Gayme #2, Free to members of NAMBLA (or $5.95).  (Membership:  
$25.00/year)  Overseas, add $15.00.  The North American Man/Boy Love 
Association, P.O. Box 174, Midtown Station, New York, NY 10018; Phone: 
(212) 807-8578, Fax: (201) 491-0334.
         Review:  A celebration of boys.  Glossy color covers, lots of photos.  
Excellent articles, such as Game Theory:  Ò[Pedophiles] have become the 
gold standard of sexual deviance, by which every other form of sexuality 
is valued (pg. 6).Ó  Outstanding reading for anyone, not just gays or 
pedophiles.

WHAT IS THAT ABOUT FREE MINICOMICS writes collector@smithsonian.org
         SIR:  This is actually a very good offer.  Roller was angry last 
summer and he produced four little booklets titled ÒUp Yours, America!Ó  
They have very humorous covers drawn by him.  You will not believe these 
covers!           
         Currently Jim Corrigan is sitting on about 100 copies each of these 
booklets.  Corrigan is supposed to go to several adult bookstores in town 
and leave the booklets there for people to pick up.  But he is nervous about 
being seen going into an adult bookstore, so the booklets are just sitting 
in his house.  Inside these booklets is the Chambers of Love story.  (Not 
the whole story, just a few chapters.)
         Send Corrigan a greeting card-sized SASE and he will send you these 
booklets.  Be sure to ask for issues #1 through #4.  There is also a #5, 
with a cover done by Corrigan.  Make sure to specify ÒUp Yours,Ó or you 
may get Comic Update or a poetry booklet or something.
         There is no guarantee with this offer, other than that you will get 
SOMETHING back.  Eventually Corrigan will get up enough courage to go into 
the adult bookstore(s) and then the booklets will be gone.  So...WRITE 
TODAY if you want them.  Unless and until Roller buys a scanner and gets a 
World Wide Web page set up, his drawings of flying penises and such-like 
will never be seen on the Internet.  They will only be available in these 
(soon to be gone) little booklets.  -h.j.

WHY DO I SEE the ÒWednesdayÓ Dreamgirls up on a.s.s. when it is only 
Tuesday? writes wilbur mills@packwood.hart.  Even I know what day it is!  
(And I know how to get a date too)!
         Distinguished Colleague:  Yes, we know what day it is.  We are 
attempting to ensure that when it is 12:01 a.m. on Wednesday, the 
Wednesday Dreamgirls is somewhere up on a.s.s.  This is why you may see 
it a little early.

         ÒPornography [is] not some sort of alien interstellar dust 
malevolently drifting down on us, but products actively sought out and 
beloved by millions.Ó
         - TIME, June 12, 1995, pg. 34

FREE minicomics!  Send a greeting-card SASE to:  Jim Corrigan, P.O. Box 
3663, Phenix City, AL 36868.  NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS (Library of 
Congress ISSN: 1070-1427): sex stories.  (Include age statement-18 or 
over.)  DREAMGIRLS WITH SHAMAN: poetry.  COMIC UPDATE (ISSN: 0894-
5195): small press comix.  Chat:  alt.sex.stories.d  END OF 15 EMISSION