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                                  Andrew Roller Presents
                              NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
                                                 in 
                                         FEVERED FALL

                         _/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/

                                        Chapter Eleven

         Sitting quietly, like mice in the wolfÕs lair, we listened to the 
Sultan.  The carved walls of his palace seemed to enshrine us; we were the 
ultimate trophies, my aunt and I, living art.  We breathed, we moved, I 
squirmed; in contrast to the flat, two-dimensional frescoes that lined the 
four walls of the room.  Above us, glittering chandeliers cast down a rain 
of light.  I glanced up at the brightly refracted prisms, each glowing with 
white light; and wondered what an expense it must have been, to build 
such a fine place, to be used for dining and dancing. 
         The Sultan surveyed us with possessive eyes.  The ruby crown 
gleamed on his head.  Then he continued his remarks:
         ÒHere, you will experience the ultimate in refined erotic pleasure,Ó 
he said.  There was a deep, somber tone to his voice, and I took his words 
less as an invitation than as a warning.  I clung to the tablecloth with my 
fingers.  I hunched forward.  I stared at him, my mouth agape in wonder at 
his words, saliva pooling within my opened lips.  When the saliva had 
accumulated to the point of almost overspilling my wide open lips, I 
licked them and gulped.  I fear he took the licking of my lips as a sign that 
I accepted and looked forward to all the shocking things he was saying.
         ÒThere is nothing I cannot do, as a Head of State,Ó the Sultan told us.  
ÒNo law restrains my whim.  Only my own conscience stays my hand, so 
please keep that in mind.  I could literally rend you both in two and there 
would be no penalty for me, no matter how unjust my actions.  Oh, there 
might be some minor diplomatic effort on the part of your countries to 
locate you, but it wouldnÕt amount to much, in the end.  You are both 
merely girls, come willingly to my kingdom, and, I trust, with few people 
knowing your whereabouts.Ó  He grinned.  ÒI mention this not to frighten 
you, but merely to warn you of the enormous extent of my power.  As the 
saying goes, ÔPower corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely.Õ  Do 
not tempt me with excessive insolence, or disobedience.  My commands are 
to be obeyed.  Naturally, being a generous sovereign, and a lover of girls, I 
am willing to put up with a minor amount of female sauciness.  But 
anything severely contradicting my will risks being punished severely.  
Not because I am a severe man, by nature, but merely because, being able 
to punish you to my heartÕs content, I might do so, even to the point of 
harming you or, I may as well say this right out in the open, killing you.Ó
         I gasped, as did my aunt.  Quickly, the Sultan raised his hand.  ÒLike I 
said, it is not my intent to harm you,Ó he said.  ÒBut when one has as much 
power as I do, it is a risk.  I have been known to have a violent temper.  I 
was born into this position, of Sovereign, and I am accustomed to having 
my way at all times, from the very day I first walked on this earth.  
Beware of contradicting me.  I shall do my best to restrain my violent 
nature.  Do not, as one might say, excessively Ôbeard the lionÕ, or you could 
feel my wrath in a way that both of us would live to regret.Ó  His grin had 
disappeared completely by now and I took him quite seriously when he 
added:  ÒWell, thatÕs the real risk, isnÕt it?  That I might live to regret my 
actions, but that you might not.Ó
         He gazed at Glenda.  His smile returned.  Fawningly, she smiled back 
at him.  ÒThis woman here,Ó he said to myself and my aunt, ÒWill be in 
charge of your erotic instruction.  I am royalty.  You, Chloe and, Rebecca... 
is it?Ó  My aunt nodded, silently, biting her lower lip a little.  ÒYou are not 
royalty.  You are mere girls.  Therefore it would be unsuitable for me to 
come into contact with you to any great degree.  Also, you are mere white 
girls, while I am an Arab.  My people tolerate my white female 
companions, but it wouldnÕt do for me to impregnate you.  Our religion 
would require me to acknowledge the child, and an Arab Sultan fathering 
an heir to his throne through the body of a white commoner, even an 
American commoner, Chloe, would be a disgrace.  Therefore, for that 
reason you will be put through your paces by Glenda, here, a trained expert 
in the female body, and a female herself, while I merely watch.  I cannot 
say that you will never have an opportunity to receive my royal sperm, but 
the times that you do will be necessarily infrequent.  Mostly you will be 
like performers at a party, albeit my own private party, entertaining me.  
In this way I can enjoy myself, without coming into excessively intimate 
contact with mere white European girls.Ó
         ÒIÕm from America!Ó I piped up.  The Sultan looked at me.  His eyes 
danced.
         ÒAh, yes.  Thank you for reminding me, little Chloe,Ó he said.  I 
frowned.
         ÒIÕm not little,Ó I told him.  ÒIÕm 13!Ó
         ÒAnd so you are,Ó the Sultan said, amusement showing on his face.  
ÒWith a new, young body that IÕm sure youÕre proud of, and eager to test 
out and use.  What fine breasts you have, Chloe!  I received many 
compliments from my guests for picking such a perfect pair of teats to 
adorn our dinner.Ó
         ÒThanks,Ó I said.  It felt odd for him to refer so particularly to my 
bosoms, as if the rest of me was without importance.
         The Sultan lifted his hand and swept it upward, as if to take in the 
entire vast expanse of his desert abode.  ÒHere,Ó he said, ÒYou will have no 
cares, other than those that I myself impose upon you.  Using Glenda, of 
course, as my surrogate,Ó he said.  ÒAll your ordinary, everyday cares will 
be attended to by servants.  Your menstruation, for instance, will be 
handled by trained servants.  Your period will be of no concern to you.  
They will ensure that your legs remain shaved, your pubis perfectly 
trimmed, anything that involves an ordinary, mundane care will be dealt 
with by them.  On the other hand, such things as your hair on your head, 
your makeup, the rouging of your breasts, your fingernails, these will be 
done at the discretion and direction of Glenda, your mistress.  If she 
wishes for you to go without makeup, meaning, of course, that it is I who 
wish it, then you will go without makeup.  If your nipples are to be rouged, 
it will be by my command, for my delight and enjoyment.  And as to your 
bush, and the perfuming of it, this will also be her special care and 
concern, picking odors that I myself find especially attractive. 
         ÒFinally,Ó he said, Òthere is the matter of your sexual training.  This 
will, of course, also be handled by Glenda, to please my will.  You will both 
have a long, hard ride here.  I will make no bones about that.  But when it 
is complete, I think you will both be proud of yourselves for what you 
were able to endure.  You will look back upon your stay here for the rest of 
your lives, and remark, ÔYes!  I did that!  It sounds unbelievable now, but I 
was able to see my way through, and come out the other side.  I was able 
to please.Õ  You will keep such knowledge secretly tucked away in your 
psyche as a badge of honor.  Girls have written to me, and told me, after 
being sent home, how much more confident they feel, after their stay here.  
Having endured successfully with me, they fear nothing back home.  
Nothing at all,Ó he said with a wry grin.  ÒExcept, perhaps, me.  Which is 
why a girl only ever visits here once, so that she need not ever have to 
face the fear of seeing me, her trainer, ever again.Ó
         I was feeling terrifically nervous by now, and not sure what to do 
about it.  I was grateful for the big, heavy candlesticks sitting on the 
dining table.  The way I was nervously clenching the tablecloth, I surely 
would have yanked it into my lap, if I were seated at a normal table.  
Fortunately the weight of the candlesticks, and the size of the table, 
prevented me from doing that.  What a mess it would have been, pulling the 
things from the deserted table into my lap!
         As the Sultan spoke, male servants cleared the table.  They worked 
silently, deftly, careful not to make the slightest sound to interrupt the 
SultanÕs speech.  By the time he was finished telling us all his plans, only 
two plates remained.  A servant swept by and picked them up.  Then he 
left, and as he did I wondered if he and his fellows were discussing 
myself and my aunt in the kitchen.  I blushed, thinking surely they must be; 
imagine, two new girls, about to undergo some wild initiation into the 
SultanÕs perverse fantasies!  I hoped half of what the Sultan said, if not 
all of it, was just that; fantasies, too bizarre to actually be acted upon.
         ÒDo you have Hubba Bubba here?Ó I asked, hoping to change the 
subject.
         ÒHuh?Ó the Sultan asked.
         ÒHubba Bubba,Ó I said.  ÒItÕs my favorite bubblegum!Ó
         ÒI have no idea,Ó he said.  He looked at Glenda.  ÒTake down her 
request.  See that she has plenty of whatever it is sheÕs asking for, when 
those occasions arise where I donÕt have need of her.Ó
         Glenda raised an eyebrow.  ÒThere will be some of those?Ó she asked.  
The Sultan laughed.  ÒPerhaps,Ó he said.  He looked again at me.  ÒDo you 
have any other necessities you require?Ó
         ÒDonÕt forget to fill up my Ôdime accountÕ,Ó I said.
         ÒYour what?Ó he asked.
         ÒShe means her bank account,Ó Rebecca said.
         ÒOh, yes,Ó the Sultan said.  ÒOf course, Chloe.  You will be well paid 
for your efforts here in my kingdom.  Though,Ó he said, ÒConsidering the 
value of what I bestow on the girls I receive, I should think it would best 
be the other way round.Ó
         ÒI only have $5.39 in my account right now,Ó I said.  ÒIÕm saving it to 
buy a Hubba Bubba glow-in-the-dark boomerang.  ItÕs big and yellow and it 
says ÔHubba BubbaÕ on it, so all the kids can see that my favorite gum is 
Hubba Bubba!Ó
         ÒOf course,Ó the Sultan said.  ÒWhich is why we have our current 
arrangement.  You will be able to buy many boomerangs after your service 
here in my kingdom, Chloe,Ó he assured me.  
         ÒMust we really be... sexual?Ó my aunt asked, finding it difficult to 
say the word, and blushing when she did.  ÒThe dance was wonderful, and 
the meal delicious, and our gowns are, uh, quite ravishing, but surely--Ó
         The Sultan raised his hand.  ÒI can see I have talked too long, when 
such questions come up.Ó  He clapped his hands once.  A servant entered, as 
conservatively dressed as before.  He carried upon a silver tray a can of 
whipped cream.  It stood upright.  He offered it to Glenda.
         ÒYes, thank you,Ó she said, and dismissed him.  She walked over to 
where my aunt was seated.  ÒOpen wide,Ó she said.  ÒYou are familiar with 
male sperm?Ó  My aunt, looking up at Glenda with big eyes, nodded.  
ÒGood,Ó Glenda said.  ÒFirst we must test your ability to take a mouthful 
of sperm.  The Sultan doesnÕt wish you sullied with other menÕs sperm, and 
is not yet ready to release his own.  So we will use this.Ó  She proffered 
the can of whipped cream.  ÒOpen,Ó she said.  My aunt, sheepishly, obeyed.  
Glenda pointed the nozzle of the can between her open lips.
         SQUIIIRT!  My auntÕs mouth filled, almost to overflowing, with a 
sharp, sudden burst of whipped cream.
         ÒClose,Ó Glenda said.  My aunt obeyed, drawing her lips shut.  A bit of 
whipped cream oozed from between her lips, her mouth had been so 
thoroughly filled.  ÒNow swallow,Ó Glenda told my aunt.  Rebecca, after a 
momentÕs hesitation, obeyed.  The whole mass of sticky whipped cream 
was swallowed down in one gulp.  She made a face afterward, surprised at 
having to swallow so much whipped cream at once.  ÒVery good,Ó Glenda 
complimented her.  ÒYou are off to a good start, capable of swallowing a 
whole mouthful of sperm when the time comes.Ó
         As I watched, Glenda left my aunt and came round the end of the 
table to me.  I stared at her with wide eyes.  
         ÒI like whipped cream, but I donÕt need a whole mouthful of--Ó I 
said.  I hadnÕt finished my sentence when Glenda took advantage of my 
open mouth to squirt in a huge glob of cream.  I felt rather like a fool, 
complaining about flies, and having one zoom into my mouth as I spoke.
         ÒGLOOP!Ó I said, my mouth filling up with cream.
         ÒSwallow,Ó Glenda told me.
         ÒOoook,Ó I said, and managed to gulp down the cream.  I wiped the 
back of my arm across my mouth.
         ÒVery good,Ó Glenda said.  ÒYouÕll prove a good fucker and a good 
sucker, I expect.Ó
         ÒI already am a sucker, I think, for coming here,Ó I said.
         ÒChloe, do not insult my hospitality,Ó the Sultan warned me.  He 
gazed approvingly at me and my aunt from his big chair at the end of the 
table.  ÒI am glad to see you can both swallow an entire mouthful of 
sperm,Ó he said.  ÒWhen I cum, it will no doubt be with a great deal of 
substance.  I am not prone to ejaculating indiscriminately.  You will 
receive many days worth of my sperm in your mouths, all at once.  So it is 
good to see that you can absorb it.  Try not to lose even the slightest drop, 
when I do cum in you.  It would be unseemly for my royal sperm to be 
spilled onto the floor.Ó
         ÒYes, sir,Ó I said, in a soft voice.  I licked my lips.  The cream had 
been tasty, even if it was rather hard to take so much of it at one time.
         ÒNow you will indulge me with a small Arab ritual,Ó the Sultan said.  
ÒIt is a custom, performed to assuage those hard-liners who would prefer 
that I have nothing to do with mere white girls.Ó  He lifted his hands and 
clapped them together.  
         A servant came forth, from the kitchen.  He was accompanied by an 
old woman.  I remembered seeing her at the dance.  She was dressed in 
conservative Arab garb.  She wore her hair under a scarf.  Her clothes 
looked expensive, despite their conservative cut.  I took her to be a woman 
in the SultanÕs kingdom of some prominence.  The servant carried two 
pies; one aloft in each hand.  They were, I saw, made of cheesecake and 
whipped cream.  He put one down at my auntÕs place, intending, I assumed, 
to serve it to her.  But weÕd already had scrumptious desserts.  I wondered 
if the other pie was for me.  I didnÕt have any room left in my tummy for 
it!
         ÒOh!  But IÕve already had my dessert,Ó my aunt protested.  She 
looked at the Sultan, sitting at the head of the table.  ÒSir,Ó she said, 
ÒYour highness, this is too much for me.  Surely you donÕt want me to get 
fat?Ó
         The old woman seemed to mutter something under her breath.  It 
didnÕt sound flattering.  It sounded envious.
         ÒThis is another part of your training, Rebecca,Ó Glenda said, 
standing beside the Sultan.  ÒI want you to put both your hands in your lap.  
Clasp them together.  Are you doing that?  Good.  This will test your 
restraint,Ó she said.  
         The old Arab woman patted my aunt on the head.  She seemed to be 
admiring her long hair.  Then, suddenly, she shoved my auntÕs face forward.  
It would have hit the table, but the pie was in the way.  My auntÕs face 
went smooshing into the deep, thick creamy pie.
         ÒAughghgh!Ó my aunt cried.  The old woman ground my auntieÕs face 
into the pie.  Then she let my aunt lift up her head.  I felt startled; IÕm 
sure my aunt was!  Her eyes blinked.  Mounds of cream covered her eyelids.  
Her face had a whole pie clinging to it in big, gooey clumps.  I watched as, 
from the middle of her pie-covered face, her small mouth opened in alarm.  
ÒWhat is--?Ó she cried, when her words simply failed her.  How 
embarrassed she must have felt!
         ÒAmerican slut!Ó the Arab woman cried.  The Sultan laughed.
         ÒShe is from Europe, my dear mother,Ó he said.  ÒIt is the little one 
over there who is from America.Ó  The old hag looked at me.  I shrank 
under her glare.
         ÒI donÕt want a pie in my face!Ó I blurted, as the servant came round 
to my place with the remaining pie in his hand.
         ÒYou must, Chloe,Ó the Sultan said.  ÒRemember what I said about 
defying me.  It is not wise.Ó
         ÒStand up!Ó the Arab woman shouted at my poor auntie.  My aunt, 
unclasping her hands, with a nervous glance toward the Sultan, wondering 
if that were permitted, pushed herself up from her chair.  The Arab woman 
took hold of her gown.
         RIIIIIIP!  sounded in the room, loudly, as my auntÕs gown was torn off 
her body.  She shrieked.  She raised her hands to defend her modesty but it 
was too late; the gown was of an insubstantial material and she was at 
once stripped naked.  Gazing at the shorn garment, which the Arab woman 
threw to the floor, my aunt covered her breasts with her hands.  Her pubis, 
uncovered, showed fleecily between her legs.
         SMOOOSH!  To my shocked horror, the servant himself, an Arab, after 
setting my pie down, immediately dunked my face into it.  There was no 
warning.  One minute I was staring speechless at my aunt, the next I was 
screaming, my mouth agape, my whole face a mass of cheesecake and 
white cream.
         ÒStand up!Ó the servant said to me, roughly.  With my belly churning 
and my knees wobbling, I stood.  He yanked on the strands of pearls which 
draped my breasts.  The gesture pulled me forward.  I almost fell.  He 
yanked again.  Some of the strings of pearls came loose from my collar.  I 
heard a clattering sound as pearls came off the strings that held them and 
fell to the floor.  The servant yanked some more; more pearly strands 
broke away, more pearls cascaded to the floor.
         The next thing I knew, the servant was pulling down my thong 
panties.  He shoved them down my legs, leaving my sex, barely covered 
before, now completely naked.  I clapped a hand over my pubic hair.  The 
servant finished pulling my panties down and made me step out of them.
         Our faces creamed, our bodies stark naked, save for our heels and my 
collar, the servant and the old woman ushered us forward to the SultanÕs 
place at the head of the table.
         ÒAh, very good,Ó the Sultan said.  ÒYou have done well, mother.  I 
have no need to see their faces.  But how lovely their breasts are, 
swinging so freely and nakedly.  How their hips move when they walk!  
Such sweet cunts!  I shall have to test how large a member they can take 
up such small, scrumptious sexes as those!Ó  The Sultan gripped my hand 
and lifted it off my pussy to get a good view of me.  ÒGlenda,Ó he said.  
ÒItÕs time they were introduced to being prisoners.  To serve as a warning, 
should I find them excessively disobedient.Ó
         ÒYes, your mightiness,Ó Glenda said.  I watched as she walked over 
to the ornately decorated wall behind the far side of the dining table.  She 
opened a panel in the wall, which surprised me, for I had assumed the wall 
was solid.  From within this panel she withdrew four wristlets, made of 
steel.  Also she took out a whip of clinging bamboo.  It was long.  It scared 
me.  It looked as if it could lift the skin right off me.
         ÒNow, girls,Ó Glenda said, returning to where we stood, on either 
side of the Sultan, who himself still sat in regal splendor, seated calmly 
at the head of the table.  ÒI want to assure you that your wrists will not 
be hurt in the least.  Each cuff is lined with fur.  These manacles may be 
tight, but the fur will keep them from chafing against your arms.Ó  She 
said nothing of the bamboo.  Handing that to the Sultan, she went behind 
me first.  She placed a cuff round each of my wrists.  She pressed down 
hard, locking each wristlet tightly to my arms.  Then she brought my arms 
back behind me and used the D-clips, hanging off the wristlets 
themselves, to lock my manacles together.  I was held as if by handcuffs, 
with the convenience that my wristlets could be taken apart from each 
other without having to take the manacles off my arms.  I tried curling my 
fingers up to wedge open the D-rings; it was quite impossible.  I was a 
prisoner, without the need for a key to lock my arms together.  I felt my 
breasts jiggle nakedly as I worked my hands, hoping to undo my restraints.  
The Sultan laughed at my predicament.
         ÒYes, Chloe, you are now my prisoner,Ó he said.  ÒNude, without the 
use of your hands, your face defiled and made unknown to me by the pie 
that has been smashed into it.  Your lips still part prettily; I can thrust my 
dick into them if I please, or order that some other man do it.  Your 
bosoms hang freely off your chest, able to suckle babes, or piglets, as my 
whim desires.  Your nest shows its fur, with nothing to keep me from 
ramming up within it anything at all, from my cock to a plumberÕs helper.Ó
         ÒNoooo!Ó I shouted.  My mouth was all creamy and I saw bits of 
cream fly away from my lips as I spoke.  One landed on the Sultan.
         ÒSuch an outburst!Ó he said.  ÒAnd it has put whipped cream on my 
royal robes.  This is behavior I find disrespectful.  You will suffer for it, 
Chloe, but first Glenda must confine the hands of your aunt.Ó
         Indeed, Glenda was already doing that.  I watched with a sinking 
feeling in my tummy as my auntÕs hands were bound behind her.  The Sultan 
prodded her nest with a finger.
         ÒYes, Rebecca,Ó he said.  ÒYour cunt is now quite open to me.  Stand 
with your legs apart, that I might freely admire it.  What pretty cuntlips 
you have!  Does it tickle when I pass my finger up underneath them, like 
this?Ó  Lightly he stroked her sex.  My aunt stifled a moan.  The Sultan 
drew his finger away, after a minute.  He lifted it up and showed it to his 
mother.  ÒShe has wet my finger with her juices,Ó he said.  ÒI did not ask 
to be defiled by her vaginal juices, but she liberally sprinkled them on me 
anyway.  Has she no restraint, mother?  Such a slut!  She will be 
disciplined for such immodesty, mother, I can assure you of that!Ó
         Oh, was he merely jesting?  I did not know.  With fretful, fearful 
eyes I watched Glenda bind Mr. Jim RutlandÕs hands behind him.  All this 
time heÕd watched our plight, yet he had not intervened.  I didnÕt blame 
him.  There was no way a nude man, burdened with manacles round his 
neck, wrists, and ankles, could defend us.  Especially since, all this time, 
Jim RutlandÕs penis had been unwillingly displaying itself.  It stuck out all 
vulnerable and exposed; a quick swipe from a sword would deprive him of 
it forever.
         ÒYour majesty, is it not indiscreet for Mr. Rutland to stand here with 
his penis enlarged and throbbing?Ó Glenda asked the Sultan.
         ÒYes indeed,Ó the Sultan said.  ÒHe should be reprimanded for that.  
Mr. Rutland, do not show off your cock to me!  Are you not aware of the 
punishments which took place last week?  Three convicts, spared their 
heads, had their dicks lopped off instead.  Is that what you want?Ó
         ÒNo,Ó Rutland said simply.
         ÒNo, your majesty,Ó Glenda corrected him.
         ÒIf I wanted to say Ôyour majesty,Õ I would have said it the first 
time,Ó Rutland answered her.
         ÒWhat?!Ó the Sultan cried.  
         Oh, how my heart went out to Rutland at that moment!  Not only was 
he quite handsome, in a rugged, swarthy way, but he was utterly and 
totally defiant of the Sultan!  Even after that long lecture the Sultan had 
given us on the limits of his ability to control his rage!  Just then, as if to 
further enflame the Sultan, Rutland did something outrageous.  With his 
big, engorged dick, he peed on the floor!
         Pissssssss!  went RutlandÕs pee, insolently peeing onto the hard 
floor, splashing his legs and making Glenda jump back, lest she get 
splashed too.
         ÒThis is an outrage!Ó the Sultan bellowed.  He leapt from his chair.  I 
was too shocked to laugh, as was my aunt.  We just stared at Rutland, our 
eyes full of fear.  

30

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