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Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
HOUSE OF FEAR
Chapter One
She was dressing to be undressed. She knew this instinctively,
though no one had told her. The thought troubled her. A month ago her
boyfriend had coaxed her out of her virginity and now he was luring her
away, explaining that he needed a vacation and wanted her to come along.
What would her parents think? She was 16, her curves just
developing. He was older. He told her he was 22 and he looked it, but she
wondered. Some of his friends looked well past 22.
Adjusting her panties on her hips, she looked at herself in her
mirror. She liked the frilled look of her panties waistband and leg holes.
It made her look delicate, more than she already looked, with her child-
thin arms and legs, her slender waist, her breasts just filling out and her
hips needing to broaden more before she could bear children. She turned
around. She examined her bottom in the mirror. It was high and round, she
noted. He told her she still had a little girlÕs bottom, fat-cheeked and
saucy, but lacking the fulsome swell of womanly hips. She turned to face
the mirror again and cupped her breasts with her hands. Somehow she
knew they would not be alone, herself and her boyfriend. He had said they
would be staying with friends and she had dreamed it last night, had
dreamed, unbidden, herself being enticed out of her clothes, or perhaps
treated roughly, as in another part of her dream, ordered out of her
clothes...
Wendy shivered. She watched as her nipples rose. Quickly she
hurried to her underclothes drawer and drew out a bra. She slipped it on.
She covered her traitorously erect nipples. Then she put her hands to her
panties and tugged on them, looking down over her lace-covered breasts at
her pussy. No, her panties did not feel wet, between her legs. Thank God.
She did not have another pair of the frilled panties and she did not want to
spoil them by wetting them.
Still feeling the tremblings of excitement, Wendy finished dressing.
She put on a skirt. It was salaciously short, but her boyfriend had said he
wanted to see her in it. She sat down on her bed and pulled on long white
stockings. She looked at herself in her mirror again. She sighed. The
stockings helped. They covered the nudity of her long legs but
unfortunately they did not go all the way up her thighs, leaving the tops of
her thighs bare. She pulled at the hem of her skirt. No, it wouldnÕt go any
lower. She whirled about and watched as her skirt lifted, showing her
pantied bottom. Quickly she put on a blouse, but of course it did nothing to
save her ass, and she sighed again as she looked at herself once more in
the mirror, a slender young woman with prominent breasts and long legs
that seemed to reach all the way up to her belly. The skirt was nothing, a
bit of fabric that amounted to little more than a decoration. She whirled
again and watched once more as her skirt floated up to show off her pretty
ass.
She put on white gloves. Her boyfriend had not asked her to wear
them but she liked them. If she couldnÕt cover her bottom properly
perhaps she could cover her hands. She stroked her face with a gloved
hand. He had been rough with her once, when sheÕd disobeyed him, wearing
jeans instead of a skirt. He had hit her face, bruising her cheek. She had
explained it to her parents by saying that she had fallen.
Did her parents suspect that her story was a lie? That she wouldnÕt
be spending Spring Break at the beach, with her two girlfriends, but would
instead be going off with her boyfriend? Well, they had said she could go,
whatever their suspicions. She sighed. A part of her wished they had been
more suspicious.
An hour later she was riding with her boyfriend in his car. Casually
he reached over to her, reached between her legs.
ÒDonÕt!Ó she gasped. She felt herself wettening. His fingers were
intrusive. He looked at her.
ÒI popped you,Ó he said. His face was swarthy. His shoulders were
broad. His jaw was firm-set, brooking no disobedience.
ÒSo?Ó Wendy gasped.
ÒSo I feel I have certain rights,Ó he answered. ÒYour slit intrigues
me. Nice panties. I like how soft they feel.Ó
ÒJed-- please!Ó Wendy breathed. She felt herself grow wetter. ÒYou
ordered me not-- not to pack anything. Maybe youÕre going to buy things
for me but I would prefer not to spoil these panties until you do-oooo-oo!Ó
Her sentence ended in a moan.
Outside it was raining. The rain had come up suddenly, as the road
they were on wound into the mountains. She wondered if he had packed an
umbrella.
ÒYes,Ó he said, seemingly reading her thoughts. ÒDo you think I
would let my little pet get wet?Ó
ÒYou are right now!Ó she gasped.
He took his hand from her and put it again to the wheel as he rounded
a curve. They sped past a sheer cliff face, the slope of the mountain
suddenly vertical. She looked out her side window. She saw a precipitous
drop beyond the edge of the road.
He put his hand to her once again. She squirmed. She closed her legs
on him but he dug deeper, pushing apart her cuntlips and driving in one of
his fingers. Only her panties saved her. He did not try to dislodge them.
He seemed to savor the net of soft fabric that they provided, keeping his
finger back, keeping him from finger-fucking her right here in his car.
ÒWhen we arrive,Ó he said casually, his finger partway in her, ÒI am
going to have you take off your skirt.Ó
ÒNo!Ó she gasped. ÒJed, I--Ó
The curve ended. They were back on a road curving between stands
of trees.
ÒYes,Ó he insisted. ÒYou will take off your skirt and be seen in your
panties. It is the very first thing you will do, when you arrive.Ó
ÒMy panties are wet!Ó she hissed, feeling him probe inside her. They
drove on, herself watching the straight, tall trees by the side of the road
as she felt his finger intrude in her slit. Finally, her breath catching in
her throat, she asked, ÒHow- how many of your f-friends will be there?Ó
ÒAh! Yes,Ó Jed said. A truck passed them. The roar of its passing,
on the tree-lined narrow road, made her shiver. ÒThere will be perhaps a
dozen of us,Ó Jed said. ÒMale and female. WeÕll be staying a week. ItÕs a
big old stone place. An older guy owns it. HeÕs about 50. HeÕll be there, of
course, along with his 21-year-old wife.Ó
ÒJed I--Ó Wendy felt herself growing faint. She didnÕt want to spend
Spring Break with so many people, especially if they were more than
twice her age! What was he getting her into?
Jed drew away his hand. She was grateful. But at the same time,
despite her misgivings as to their destination, she was disappointed. He
had taken her far down the road of desire. Impulsively, as she felt his
hand leave her, she pushed forward her hips. She spread her legs. She
offered, and looked at him longingly.
ÒThatÕs enough,Ó Jed said.
ÒOh!Ó Wendy gasped. She realized the display she was making of
herself. She sat back in her seat and closed her legs.
ÒYou have a nice pussy,Ó Jed smiled at her. ÒNice and wet.Ó
They arrived at the place Jed had spoken of. It loomed in the trees,
surrounded by them, an old pile of stone, house-shaped, in the forest. He
pulled close to the structure. He stopped the car and got out. It was
drizzling and he got an umbrella out of the trunk. He came around to her
side of the car and opened the umbrella, then her side door, and she got
out. The umbrella shielded her from the rain.
ÒTake off your skirt,Ó he said.
ÒWhat?Ó she gasped. The air felt chilly. She smelled pine, heard the
rain as it fell down among the tree branches over their heads.
ÒYou heard me,Ó he ordered. She looked down. She was standing on
wet leaves. He nudged her in her ribs. She reached back behind herself
and, blushing, looking at him imploringly, she unzipped her skirt. She
hesitated, holding its separated halves aloft with her hands. He nodded.
His face looked severe. She let her skirt drop down her legs, holding it,
skimming it down her thighs and over her knees and down past her calves.
She stepped out of it, carefully, not wanting to brush the wet soles of her
shoes against the inside of her skirt.
ÒLeave it in the car,Ó he said. He reached over and re-opened the car
door. She bit her lip. Her legs felt chilly, despite her white stockings, for
the tops of her thighs were bare. She bent. She tossed her skirt onto the
seat sheÕd been sitting on. She looked down at herself and saw, to her
mortification, that she was still wet between her legs. The lowest part
of her pubis showed within the wet cupping crotch of her panties. She
could see the twin lips of her slit, clearly outlined in the fabric.
ÒYou have pretty panties,Ó he said, admiringly. She tugged nervously
on her blouse. But its hem was too short to cover her hips, her bottom, her
too-visible pussy within her undies. She would be seen like this, by his
friends, gloved and in long white stockings, with a blouse on but no skirt,
her frilled panties on view to all, her pussy showing wetly within them.
She shivered. He took her gloved hand. For the first time he noticed that
she was wearing gloves.
ÒI didnÕt tell you to wear these,Ó he said.
ÒI- I wanted to,Ó she answered.
ÒI should slap you for wearing them,Ó he told her. She shivered and
looked at him meekly.
They walked inbetween the trees. They came to a stone path and
followed it. The stones were flat, easy to walk on, but wet from the rain.
Her hard-soled shoes slipped. He caught her. Nervously she asked him, as
he held the umbrella studiously over her head, whether they would be
given a room of their own.
ÒOf our own?Ó he laughed. ÒYou mean, you and I together, our door
shut and our privacy ensured?Ó She nodded. His grin broadened. ÒNo,Ó he
said. ÒWe will not be given a room of our own.Ó
ÒBut--Ó her voice caught in her throat. With difficulty she managed
to continue, clasping his hand more tightly, feeling him respond. ÒBut
where will we sleep? Where will we--Ó She could not say more.
ÒFuck?Ó he laughed. She bit her lip again, nearly making it bleed. He
reached over and eased his finger into her mouth. She bit it, briefly. Then
she let him go. She closed her lips. He let his hand swing once more by
his side.
They walked up a short flight of stone steps. They arrived at the
door. He told her to knock. Obediently she reached up and clasped a big
knocker. It was made of brass. He admired the curve of her back, the
swell of her bottom, the brevity of her panties. He could see the upper
half of her ass crack, bare and vulnerable between her white cheeks. He
wanted to stick something in it. He touched his finger to it.
ÒDonÕt!Ó she gasped. She let go of the knocker. With a booming sound
it echoed around them, in the trees, in the house. She reached back
protectively to her ass and brushed away his hand. The front door of the
house opened.
ÒWell hello,Ó a female voice said. Anxiously Wendy found herself
staring into the face of a woman. She was taller. Wendy had to look up to
gaze into her eyes. She felt like a wet kitten looking up into the face of a
mother cat.
The woman had long brown hair, as long and brown as WendyÕs was
long and blonde. Wendy had tied her hair into two long pigtails but the
womanÕs was free, cascading down her back and even falling down her
front, down to the level of her belly. The womanÕs eyes danced as she saw
Wendy wore only panties, without a skirt. She glanced at the girlÕs white
gloves. ÒMy. You have come both adorned, and unadorned,Ó the woman said.
ÒHow nice. Please do come in.Ó The woman flashed a quick smile at Jed.
It was knowing, conspiratorial. Wendy felt Jed push her from behind. She
was ushered inside, having little say in the matter, JedÕs palm on her
bottom and the woman, taking her hand, leading her from in front.
The door was shut. It was warmer inside. Wendy, still feeling the
chill of the outdoor air on her skin, was grateful. Jed took his hand from
her fanny. He closed his umbrella. Wendy looked around, the older woman
letting go of her hand.
There were a dozen people. They smiled at her. To WendyÕs blushing
surprise, none of the other women were stripped to their panties. Some
wore jeans, others short skirts, still others dresses, but none of them
were making the spectacle she now made, with her hair in pigtails, her
hands gloved, her legs stockinged but without any skirt on, showing her
panties and, worse, showing off the wetness of her crotch. Wendy
retreated behind the big figure of her boyfriend. Her cheeks felt red. She
wanted to disappear into the floor.
ÒHey!Ó Jed said. He pulled Wendy out from behind himself. He
gripped her by her small shoulders. He faced her front and center, toward
their new friends.
ÒOh my! You are so pretty!Ó a woman said. She had long red hair, in
an abundance of curls. She looked mid-20Õs. Her beauty was in full bloom.
She had large breasts, covered by a frilled blouse and a leather vest. She
wore a short leather skirt that swung as she walked. She stepped
forward. She handed Wendy a drink. Her face was nonchalant. She
welcomed Wendy as if greeting one of her own.
Wendy accepted the drink. She sipped it. It tasted of cherries. She
felt her anxiety start draining away. They did not laugh at her in her
panties. They kept their admiration discreet.
An interval obtained, in which Jed, letting Wendy go her own way,
talked with the men, while Wendy, forgetting her panties, found herself
engrossed in small talk with the women. Some were almost her age, 17
and 19. The woman of the house, Melinda, was 21. The woman with red
hair, who had offered her such a delicious drink, was 24. Her name was
Anna.
When Wendy had met the women, Melinda ushered her over to the
men. They lounged around the living roomÕs wet bar.
ÒGentlemen, this is Wendy,Ó Melinda told the men. The males
greeted her with smiles. One of them gave Jed a knowing look. Wendy,
conscious again of her panties, stammered as she tried to speak.
ÒH- how do you do?Ó Wendy asked. She gave a brief curtsey.
ÒShe is well trained,Ó a man remarked.
ÒNot as well as I would like,Ó Jed answered. Wendy shivered. Her
hands leapt to her breasts. She clasped her fingers together, as if in a
childÕs prayer. Her lips formed a pretty O but she did not speak. The man
who had spoken first, who had grey hair, raised an eyebrow. He gave Jed a
sidelong glance.
ÒI should like to see her in attire that befits her station,Ó the
white-haired man said. Again his features changed, to heavy-lidded
satisfaction. WendyÕs eyes darted between the two men, one a stranger,
the other her lover.
ÒAh, I should make introductions,Ó Jed said. He cleared his throat,
as if to cover over the nervousness which Wendy so obviously felt. He
looked at his girlfriend. He did not speak her name but, rather, simply
gesturing, said, ÒRyan, this is my new toy. ...And this is Ryan, Jed added,
looking at Wendy.
ÒPleased to meet you sir,Ó Wendy offered. Again she curtseyed,
awkwardly, for it was a gesture meant to be made in a skirt, and she was
only in her panties. Her knees trembled as they bent and straightened.
Melinda came up behind her. Wendy did not notice her until the womanÕs
hands, reaching between the tops of her thighs, gripped her right stocking.
She gripped WendyÕs stocking at its top.
ÒOoooh!Ó Wendy said, alarmed.
ÒKeep your stockings straight at all times,Ó Melinda admonished.
She tugged on WendyÕs right stocking. Then she tugged up her left, her
hands intrusively between the girlÕs legs. Wendy could only wiggle with
embarrassment as the young woman straightened her stockings. Her two
curtseys had caused them to sag a little, but hardly in a disorderly way.
When she was finished Melinda gave WendyÕs bottom a light slap.
ÒShe has such a nice fat little ass,Ó Melinda said crudely. Wendy,
her face already flushing, felt her blush deepen.
ÒYes. Turn around. I should like to admire your little bottom,Ó Ryan
said. But Wendy did not budge. She felt rooted to the ground, her already
flushing face assuming a deeper hue. Still not using WendyÕs name, Jed
said,
ÒThis is the man of the house.Ó His eyes gazed deep into WendyÕs.
He had black eyes, like his black hair. WendyÕs eyes were pools of blue.
ÒWhile we are enjoying his hospitality you will have to do as he wishes,
as will I.Ó WendyÕs eyes, already large and wondering, widened. JedÕs
narrowed. ÒTurn around,Ó he said. ÒDonÕt make me slap your pretty face in
order for us to admire your pretty bottom. Do you wish to display it with
tears rolling down your cheeks?Ó Jed made to rise.
ÒI donÕt wish to display it at all!Ó Wendy protested. ÒItÕs my-- my
bottom!Ó The last word she spoke with emphasis. Her hands flew to her
behind. Her gloved, white, pure hands, pressing hard to her nether cheeks.
RyanÕs face softened, though her loverÕs did not. He saw she was
young, inexperienced. With a muted voice he asked the girl, who stood
trembling before him,
ÒHow long have you been experienced?Ó
ÒE-Experienced?Ó Wendy stammered. Her blush turned deep red.
Ryan laughed.
ÒYour lover informs me that he has taken you,Ó Ryan said.
Deliberately he chose the most delicate phrasing. Wendy, who was not as
ignorant of his question as she wished him to suppose, felt her attitude
toward him soften.
ÒI do not speak of such things, sir,Ó Wendy answered. She tossed her
blonde head. Her twin pigtails flew. She felt a secret thrill run up her
spine.
Ryan gestured toward a curtained window. ÒIn the world out there,
the world you have been accustomed to for so many years, it would of
course be presumptive for a host at a party to ask you to show him your
ass,Ó Ryan said.
ÒYou forget what high school parties are like,Ó Jed grunted.
ÒHigh school,Ó Ryan laughed. ÒTheyÕll ask you anything in high
school... show me your tits, your cherry, whatever. But it is meaningless.
Here it is not. When I make a request, it is sincere, and it must be obeyed.
A bottom is not simply to made to be covered. Indeed, its greatest use is
in display.Ó His eyes acknowledged the other men. ÒIs an ass not at its
prettiest when it is completely bare?Ó
ÒOh!Ó Wendy cried. But the other men nodded. Melinda grabbed of
WendyÕs shoulders. She spun the girl, and before Wendy knew it she was
showing the men her back.
ÒDown with her drawers, if you please,Ó Ryan said to Jed. WendyÕs
lover reached out. Roughly his hand tore down the back of her panties.
Wendy shrieked, feeling the cool air of the room touch her ass. Frantically
her hands reached down along the sides of her legs, wanting to check the
fabric. She wanted see if her panties had ripped. They were so thin,
except for the little frills lining the edges, around the leg holes and her
waist.
ÒNo, girl, do not reach back and cover yourself,Ó Ryan cautioned. He
leaned forward. Wendy could feel his gaze, and then she jumped as she
felt his breath. He was close.
ÒMy- My name is Wendy,Ó the blonde retorted, finding breath in
herself to speak.
ÒI donÕt care about your name. Just your ass,Ó Ryan answered. He
touched a finger to her hind cheek, her right cheek. The flesh dented
nicely under his touch, like a dimple. Then it rebounded immediately the
second Ryan took his finger away. Meanwhile Wendy, when she felt his
finger-pressure on her ass, shrieked anew. Her tits quavered in her bra
cups. Her breath came hard and fast, high in her throat, as if she had run a
long distance.
Ryan settled back in his chair. ÒShe has a perfect white ass,Ó Ryan
said to Jed. ÒYet her legs and back are tanned, like cinnamon.Ó
ÒIÕve been sending her to a tanning salon twice a week,Ó Jed smiled.
ÒAnd in the privacy of the booth she did not wish to have an all-over
tan?Ó Ryan asked.
ÒNo,Ó Jed answered.
ÒIntriguing,Ó Ryan said. Lifting his voice, as well as his eyes, he
addressed the girl. ÒWhy didnÕt you want an all-over tan?Ó Wendy made to
turn, to answer him. ÒNo. DonÕt turn around,Ó Ryan cautioned. ÒJust speak
as you are, with your panties pulled down and your bottom showing. ÒWhy
didnÕt you get an all-over tan? They are popular with girls these days.Ó
WendyÕs ass gave a wiggle. ÒI- I dunno,Ó she replied.
ÒHmmm,Ó Ryan said. He put a hand under his chin. ÒIt is said that
some politicians stretch the truth but you are simply hiding it,Ó Ryan said.
ÒI know why you didnÕt get an all-over tan, little girl, and I think you do
too. The bottom is more prominent if it is white, is it not? It doesnÕt
blend in with the thighs and back but rather, er, sticks out. It makes a
rude display of itself. You wanted to provoke your lover with your bottom,
did you not?Ó Wendy said nothing. Her knees were trembling again,
almost uncontrollably.
ÒAnswer me!Ó Ryan yelled. Wendy nearly fainted.
ÒY- Yes,Ó Wendy finally stammered. Her ass gave another wiggle as
she spoke. It was not a small nervous wiggle, as her bottom was
constantly doing now, but a bold, showy wiggle. Her cheeks tensed as she
did it. Then they relaxed a little. Then her hinds tightened anew as
another wiggle ran through her ass. Ryan leaned forward again in his
chair. To a shriek of protest from Wendy, he caught hold of the back of her
panties. He pulled them up. Wendy sighed with relief. Her hands flew to
her belly. Her fingers slipped under her blouse. She rubbed the flat flesh,
but her mind was still on her bottom, on the way it stuck out despite the
concealment of panties.
ÒI wish to see her in a corset,Ó Ryan told Melinda. ÒTight around the
middle, but with underwired cups that lift and show off her tits. No bra,
of course. Remove what she has on and put it away. Leave her only her
panties and stockings, and shoes. And her gloves also,Ó Ryan added.
ÒAnd her ribbons?Ó Melinda asked, speaking of the pink ribbons that
bound WendyÕs hair.
ÒYes. Of course,Ó Ryan said.
ÒOh, but--!Ó Wendy exclaimed. Impulsively she reached back behind
herself. She touched her fingers to her ass. She felt a rip! Her panties
had been torn, leaving a gash where her lover had seized the middle part of
her behind, pulling down the seat of her panties and tearing it in the
process. With a cold chill she realized the men could still see her ass
crack. Part of it, anyway, the part where her cheeks pressed tight over
her little back hole. ÒOh I cannot wear these!Ó Wendy said in a loud voice.
ÒTake off her panties too,Ó Ryan said to Melinda.
ÒNo!Ó Wendy shrieked.
ÒThen leave them on,Ó Ryan said wryly.
Wendy felt the tear with her finger. ÒI need new panties,Ó she
insisted.
ÒYou will wear what I permit and nothing else,Ó Ryan said. ÒDo you
think I can afford panties for every girl who visits? Have your bottom
bare or keep your panties. ItÕs your choice.Ó
ÒJed--Ó Wendy groaned, but her lover wasnÕt listening. He avoided
her gaze as she tried to turn around. At the same moment Melinda took
WendyÕs right hand. She gave the girl a vicious tug. Wendy almost toppled
over. But Jed did not rise to save her, as he had outside. Only a quick
move by Anna, her red curls flying, kept Wendy from greeting the floor.
The young women spent an hour ÔdressingÕ Wendy. They took her to a
secluded room at the back of the house. They put her in a padded leather
chair. It leaned back, like a chair at the hairdressers. Wendy closed her
legs but the women forced her to lie with her legs apart. In a mirror
across from herself Wendy could spy her slit. Her panties seemed
continually to wetten. She could see herself in them, her rolled quim lips
showing in the mirror, despite the wetly clinging gusset of her undies. In
truth the panties had no proper gusset, no extra layer of material. The
fabric that covered WendyÕs crotch was as thin as her pantyÕs seat.
Lying exposed, her slit showing coyly between her legs, Wendy let
the women wash her hair. She had no choice. The wet it in a sink behind
her and then soaped it and dried it. All the while Wendy was admonished
to keep her legs open, and the women said crude things to her.
ÒShe is a bit like a slut, donÕt you think?Ó Anna asked the woman of
the house, 21-year-old Melinda.
ÒI think so,Ó Melinda answered. ÒShe wants it badly. So badly she
canÕt say. The sweetest princesses often have the dirtiest minds.Ó
ÒBut she was pure until a month ago,Ó Anna said.
ÒHow do you know?Ó Melinda asked. ÒI think she has a sluttish
quality, if you ask me. A little high school tart, looking for adventure.Ó
ÒWith her little untanned behind!Ó A third woman laughed.
ÒNo, I asked her boyfriend,Ó Anna remarked. ÒHe said she was quite
unaware of the properties of the penis until he gave her instruction.Ó
ÒOooo, slut-training,Ó Melinda said. The other women laughed.
Wendy would have protested, but she was worried and scared. She
didnÕt know these people. An hour ago they were complete strangers, and
the men still were. Yet despite her ignorance of the hands that coaxed the
soap through her long hair, despite the strange eyes that studied her, she
felt relaxed. Perhaps it was the warm water running through her hair.
Perhaps it was the whisper-soft way the women talked, now that they
were alone at the back of the house. Whatever it was, despite her fears,
Wendy felt a luxurious indolence, a desire to lie back forever and simply
let the world happen. But it was not to be.
ÒYou are finished,Ó Melinda announced, when she had run over
WendyÕs hair with a blow drier. She put the girlÕs locks back into pigtails.
She gave her a quick kiss on her cheek, on the same cheek where her
boyfriend had once slapped her. Then Melinda straightened the chair. It
came up easily, and Wendy felt her nervousness deepen. ÒDo you have to
pee?Ó Melinda asked, seeing WendyÕs legs quiver.
ÒN- No,Ó Wendy said.
ÒYou will not have the opportunity later, when youÕve been presented
to the men,Ó Melinda cautioned. She tugged on the girlÕs shoulder. ÒGet up,
lazy bones. I want you to go to the potty. If you go to the men with a full
bladder itÕs likely to burst.Ó
To WendyÕs surprise, the ÔtoiletÕ provided to her was not an
American one. It was, rather, the kind used in Japan, a porcelain bowl set
in the floor. The girl was forced to crouch over it, her ripped panties
pulled down to her knees. Gazing at her torn undies, she felt her piss
released from her cunt. It squirted into the Japanese bowl. In front of
herself was a reflection. Even here, there was a mirror. Wendy could see
herself as she peed. She thought she looked like some kind of teasingly
dressed female animal.
ÒDid you pee?Ó was RyanÕs first question, when Wendy was taken
again to the living room. Dumbly she nodded. ÒVery well. A cake has been
delivered in your honor,Ó Ryan said. He gestured to a large white cake. It
looked like a wedding cake. Wendy gasped when she saw it. The cake sat
in the corner of the room, next to the partyÕs punch bowl. ÒThe delivery
boy had quite a drive, and I was charged extra for it,Ó Ryan said. ÒI hope
you enjoy your cake. Go and look at it and tell me what you think.Ó
Irresistibly, despite her fears, Wendy hurried across the room. She
felt suddenly light and giddy. But her heart sank when she looked at the
cakeÕs topmost layer. There, in big pink letters, pink as the bows she
wore, was written:
ÒFor WendyÕs ass.Ó
ÒI must sit in it?!Ó Wendy gasped, when at last she was able to find
her voice. Ryan let her stand anxiously for a moment and then answered,
ÒNo, no. Pick up the knife and cut it. We will watch as you eat the
first slice. You do not have to share out the pieces, if you donÕt wish to.
The whole cake is yours to have.Ó
ÒOh but I,Ó Wendy gasped, feeling more nervous than ever. She could
barely stand. Melinda put a hand on her small, bare shoulder and steadied
her. WendyÕs breasts, held now in the underwired cups of a corset,
shuddered. Her pantied bottom-flesh shook.
ÒOne more thing,Ó Ryan said, raising a finger. ÒIf you eat the cake,
and I am commanding you to, you must take whatever is found inside it.Ó
ÒInside it?Ó Wendy asked. She turned and looked at the man of the
house.
Ryan grinned. ÒWhen you were little, did you like Cracker Jacks?Ó
Wendy frowned.
ÒJed must have told you I did. I still do,Ó Wendy said. Her last word
came out with trailing oÕs, as in ÔoooooÕ, as if spoken by a ghost. For
Wendy, despite standing straight, with MelindaÕs help, was beginning to
feel dizzy. Her stay in the private room at the back of the house was over.
She was once again being lanced by the men, stabbed by their words,
humiliated by their commands. She felt weirdly repelled and excited at
the same time. Her parents would never have treated her this way.
ÒYou must take whatever is found in the cake,Ó the grey-haired
Master of the house told Wendy. ÒAnd you must not simply take it
anywhere, my dear,Ó he said, lowering his voice. ÒYou must take it
between those pretty cheeks of your little ass.Ó
Wendy, thinking that the man simply meant the ÔprizeÕ, if such it
could be called, had to be wedged in her ass cheeks, suddenly laughed.
ÒWhatÕs so funny?Ó her lover asked. Wendy blushed. She stood
straighter, more confidently, and said,
ÒI wedged a frisbee in my ass once. When I was eight.Ó
ÒYes. Your lover told me,Ó Ryan answered.
Without another thought, beginning to enjoy all the attention she
was getting, even the knowledge of and revelation of her childhood tastes
and secrets, Wendy picked up a knife. It was a long, sharp blade, long as a
manÕs penis, she thought, picking it up off the table, where it lay between
the wedding cake and the punch bowl. Wendy put the knife to the cake.
She sliced through the word ÒassÓ. She cut a piece for herself. She was
careful to include the flowers of icing set into the edges of the cake at
three-inch intervals. Taking a plate from the table on which the cake
rested, where the punch bowl sat neighbor to it, Wendy served herself a
slice of cake. She looked around. She saw no forks. She opened her mouth
to ask for one but then felt a jubilant kind of wild release. Picking the
cake up with her fingers, a big heavy slice, large as her breasts lying
jiggling in her corset, she bit into the cake. She felt white goo attach
itself to her lips. It was on her fingers too, where she held the cake.
ÒOh! There is a lot of icing,Ó Wendy lamented. She looked at her
fingers. They were spread with white, the white icing. Her hands were
still gloved but she did not like the sight of her goopy fingers. Fortunately
she held the cake with only one hand. Her other hand held the plate. But
she became aware, as she bit into the cake again, of a crumbling onto her
breasts. She looked down. Bits of icing and cake debris had fallen onto
her tits. ÒOh, I am making a mess of myself!Ó Wendy despaired. The men
laughed. The women laughed too, and finally Wendy herself laughed, aware
of herself in ripped panties and a small little corset, her breasts serving
as a kind of bare-flesh napkin.
ÒShe looks delicious, doesnÕt she?Ó Melinda asked Anna. She took
hold of the red-haired womanÕs hand.
ÒYes. Delicious enough to eat,Ó Anna answered.
ÒKeep eating your cake,Ó Ryan said to Anna. The girl had stopped.
ÒDonÕt worry that some of the cake falls on your tits,Ó Ryan said. ÒI like
the effect of it. Take big, gulping bites of cake. Think of your loverÕs
endowment as you bite into the cake. You have cut a big slice and I admire
your boldness. Now eat it with passion.Ó
Blushing fiercely, Wendy consumed the cake. She giggled as she did.
Her quavering, gently held tits wiggling in their uplifted corset cups. She
felt lewd, sprinkling icing and cake crumbs all over her breasts. Yet at
the same time she felt curiously light-headed, as if she were enjoying a
dream. It was wonderful, she thought, deep down in her womb, to have so
many strangers staring at her. All her life she had dreamed of meeting a
lover and going strange places with him. It was a deep secret. Deeply
repressed, but suddenly surfacing, suddenly making her laugh as she made
a mess of her mouth and fingers and tits, eating the white-iced cake.
When Wendy had eaten the cake, Ryan beckoned her to him. She
replaced the plate on the table. She looked for napkins but found none.
She went to Ryan, all messy-mouthed and with caked, stained fingers. He
ignored her white-creamed face and her hands. Gently he lifted one of her
breasts out of her high-wired corset. Exposing the entirety of her right
tit, he lifted himself partway out of his chair. Slowly, reverently, he
began to lick the cake debris off of her bosom.
ÒOh! Oooooh!Ó Wendy gasped. She couldnÕt stand the thought of a man
she didnÕt know, especially a man as old as her father, licking her tit. Yet
Ryan was nothing if not experienced, and every sweep of his tongue
offered her four decades of his sexual knowledge. Quickly she wet her
panties. Then, with shame coloring her cheeks, she even let out a bit of
pee.
ÒI thought you went to the toilet!Ó Ryan, suddenly indignant,
remarked.
ÒOh! I-- I--Ó was all Wendy could say in reply. Quickly she reached
down between her legs, to discover what she already knew. Yes, she was
wet there, very wet, a stream of wetness running down the insides of both
of her thighs.
Ryan let go of WendyÕs right breast. ÒShe is an undisciplined
wench,Ó Ryan said to Jed. ÒI want her bottom-up over a trestle. Tie her to
the wooden legs of the thing, all four of them. YouÕll find one in the
basement. When she is prepared, call me. IÕll have no peeing on my living
room rug, by God!Ó
Wendy fainted. When she came to, with the aid of smelling salts
applied to her nose, she found herself in a basement. It was the basement
of RyanÕs home, and this realization nearly caused her to faint again. But
Anna kept the smelling salts close to her snub little nostrils. Gradually
Wendy was coaxed from a leather bench on which sheÕd been resting. When
she stood up, Anna holding her both by her right hand and shoulder, Melinda
knelt down behind WendyÕs ass.
ÒWhaÕcha doinÕ?Ó Wendy, still dazed by sleep, asked Melinda. She
felt her panties pulled down. She looked around behind herself, at her bare
ass. There, kneeling behind her, was Melinda. Wendy caught a whiff of
alcohol. Suddenly she felt the chill prickling of that fluid on her right
bottom cheek. Melinda was daubing her ass with a white cotton pad, in
small circular motions. In her other hand, the hand that had pulled down
the back of WendyÕs panties, she now held a syringe.
ÒHey!Ó Wendy cried. Melinda looked from the girlÕs bottom up to her
eyes. Her gaze was sympathetic.
ÒDonÕt be naive, darling,Ó Melinda admonished. ÒYou will need it
when you are over the trestle.Ó
ÒA- a needle?Ó Wendy cried.
ÒAnesthesia,Ó Melinda corrected. She aimed the needle. Wendy felt
a prick. But the very touch of the needle made the girl wiggle, and Melinda
raised the sharp point off the girlÕs bottom.
ÒI donÕt want to be poked!Ó Wendy shrieked.
ÒIt will numb your behind, so you donÕt feel the lash so badly,Ó
Melinda told Wendy. She brought the thing close again. Her thumb wiggled
anxiously on the plunger.
ÒNo! DonÕt!Ó Wendy insisted. She would have reached back but by
now Anna held both her wrists tight in her hands, pressing them to her
breasts.
ÒIt is necessary,Ó Melinda cautioned. Suddenly, in her excitement
and anxiety, Wendy let a small fart. It exited from between her bottom
cheeks, straight into MelindaÕs face.
ÒPhew!Ó Melinda said, waving her hand in front of her nose.
ÒNaughty girl,Ó Anna told the young blonde.
Melinda stood up. ÒI wonÕt help you if youÕre going to fart in my
face,Ó she said to the girl.
ÒIÕm sorry!Ó Wendy cried.
ÒYou could have told me you felt it coming,Ó Melinda said.
ÒI- I didnÕt,Ó Wendy said. But it was a lie, and she guessed Melinda
knew that. With her hands both clasped tight in AnnaÕs, a last minute fart,
providently provided, was her only hope of escape from the needle.
ÒVery well, you will be lashed down now to the trestle,Ó Melinda
said. She put aside the needle and pad, on a small wooden table. Wendy
was led to a severe-looking trestle. Before she could faint again she was
bent over it, forcibly, by both women, so that she felt all her blood, that
was not already claimed by her legs, running down to her head. Her bottom
glowed snow-white, despite her embarrassment. Her tits, lightly held by
her corset, fell completely out of the cups and hung like cowÕs udders.
ÒWhat is--?Ó Wendy gasped. But other women now bound her, women
from the party, their hands quick and the bonds of the trestle
correspondingly tight. Before she could get out the words, Òwill happen to
me?Ó Wendy felt herself tied down over the wooden frame. It kept her
head and face out of the way, while exposing her back, her breasts, and,
most boldly, her fatted white ass and her legs. She heard footsteps. They
were menÕs footsteps, and inbetween the sound of the hard heels on the
uncarpeted floor she heard the swish of a whip.
ÒShe took the anesthesia?Ó RyanÕs voice asked, somewhere behind
Wendy. Through her spread legs she could see only a world upside down,
composed of trousers and bare knees and skirts.
ÒNo,Ó Melinda answered. Her voice was soft, compliant, almost
loving. Another swish of the whip sounded in the underground room.
ÒHmmm,Ó Ryan said. ÒShe is bold. She has a bold white bottom and
the personality to match, though she makes great show of hiding her
pleasure.Ó With a raised voice he addressed the girl. He could not see her
face, and he didnÕt wish to, but he hoped his wife had taken the white icing
off her her mouth, and from the fingertips of her gloves. He hoped too that
she had brushed her breasts clean, so that they hung white and immaculate
beyond the forced upward curve of her corset. ÒI am going to whip you
now,Ó Ryan said to the blonde, who in fact had been tidied up by his wife,
as she lay in her fainting spell on the black leather bench. ÒI am going to
whip you hard. You will feel every stroke. You will scream with pain and I
donÕt want you to worry about it. No one can hear down here. There are
woods for miles around. Let out your emotion. A gag will be placed in
your mouth in a moment to protect your teeth, to keep them from grinding
and biting your tongue, but it will be a thin gag, too tight and thin to
silence your cries. Do not expect the whipping, despite its severity, to be
brief. You will feel your blood running to your head, that which is not
coaxed by the whip to the surface of your bottom, and I will have to
released occasionally. This is simply so that you may be righted,
temporarily, so that your blood may resume its equilibrium in your body.
You will be offered wine. Take my advice-- drink it. When you have
savored the wine and perhaps been permitted to stretch your legs, given a
quick if admittedly painful walk, down here in the basement, you will once
again be tied down. Your punishment will resume. It will go on like this,
whippings interspersed with forced rest periods, until I deem you properly
punished. If you wish to converse during the periods when you are free, by
all means do. I will have to remove your gag to let you slake the thirst
you will inevitably feel. But donÕt spoil the time by begging to be let off.
You must take your punishment like a grown woman, for you are 16 now. I
may temper your whipping to avoid the breaking of skin, but only if you are
good. If you use the time you are free to whine and complain, IÕll show you
no mercy. You will feel every inch of this lash until there is not a shred of
skin left on your pure white bottom. And oh, by the way, your bottom
wonÕt be white again for awhile. Be glad I donÕt whip your tits. For as I
saw upstairs, you have left them provokingly white, just like your ass,
making a show of them even when they are naked.Ó
WendyÕs lover walked round to her side. He found her tits hanging
out of her corset. Slowly he bent and reached under her nearest tit, and
caught hold of her nipple.
ÒOh, Jed!Ó Wendy cried.
ÒI should like to sit and milk these while you have your behind
whipped,Ó Jed remarked. He reached for the leather bench. He pulled it
close. He sat his ass on it. Slowly, gently, reaching under the girl, he
began to tease the points of her tits.
ÒYouÕll need a bucket,Ó Melinda laughed.
ÒIf she were pregnant I would,Ó Jed agreed. Wendy let out an Òouch!Ó
as Jed pulled needlessly hard on her teats. But it was her last meaningful
sound, for Melinda jammed a gag into her mouth.
The gag was made of slim leather. Wendy felt it prying between her
teeth, holding them open, despite her best efforts to keep the gag out. It
forced her tongue back, making her choke. Melinda paused and checked
WendyÕs nostrils to make sure she was still able to breathe. Then the
woman of the house tied the black leather behind WendyÕs head, in the hair
she had so recently washed. When the gag was applied she stood up.
Wendy was left poised over the trestle, her bottom showing itself as her
lover tugged hard on her tits.
ÒWe are ready,Ó Ryan remarked. He heard a scream from the blonde.
He raised his whip. ÒI have not even hit her yet and already she is
bawling,Ó Ryan said. ÒShe should prove delicious to train.Ó
The sickening slap-crack of the whip sounded for half the night.
WendyÕs panties were not removed, at least not in the conventional way.
Slowly, the whip tore them off. In the end the girl still wore her panties,
banded around her waist, clinging by leg holes to the tops of her thighs.
But the entire seat had been torn away by the whip. Bulging out between
the shredded fabric was WendyÕs naked behind. And the white flesh, once
so perfect, was now a red mass, all striped by the cord, with more blows
of the whip yet to fall.
30
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