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Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
Night Games
Chapter Eight
Fred Harris was a chemical engineer. He was just back from
Afghanistan where his company had recently acquired some mining rights.
It was still disorienting for him to be back from that brown war-torn
land, where everyone was robed and veiled and turbaned, especially here,
tonight, not just in the heart of L.A. but at what could only be described as
a buffet. Not of food but of flesh, everyone decked out and presenting
what they had, offering it up to be noticed and touched and fondled, with
the promise of more to come. There were the older ones, still beautiful
and athletic, their beauty enhanced and prolonged by health club
memberships and visits to beauty salons and doctorÕs offices. And then
there were the young. Still gripped in the glow of youth, they offered
themselves almost laughingly, loving the way their unique physical
endowments had gained them admission to what was HollywoodÕs most
decadent, if not most poshest party. Some came with money, too, helping
to pay for the affair, endowments or trust funds enriching what God had
already given them. The place where the party was being held was perfect
for such events as were planned for this evening. A floor somewhere in
the middle of the Four Seasons, where in the anonymity of this collection
of rooms anything might happen, without the strings of liability that
might come from holding the party in someoneÕs home. It was exciting to
be in such circumstances, surrounded by beautiful men and women, the
delights of the night being so easily on offer. Small chandeliers hung from
the ceiling in the main party room, young plants from some garden shop
stood decoratively in pots in the corners, a table groaned with
condiments, and vases, placed between the snacks on offer left no doubt of
the eveningÕs plans. Within the vases were not bouquets of flowers but,
rather, bouquets of flowers made from rubber condoms. The food went
barely noticed, the chandeliers were taken for granted and the plants were
ignored. But the flowers drew everyoneÕs attention, and not a person
entered the room but were soon poised over them, remarking how pretty
they were, and laughing, and enjoying their display.
Fred was dressed in a costume of his own design. Tight rubber pants
gripped his loins. They might have been part of a diverÕs wet suit, but the
ocean was several miles away. And there was a feature of the pants
which made them unsuitable for use on the beach, at least not without
risk of an arrest warrant. In front, they were not completely closed. It
was as if someone had taken a knife to them (which, indeed, their creator
had), cutting them apart so that FredÕs substantial genitals could get some
air. A single silver snap held the pants strategically together, but through
the zipless fly hole FredÕs penis could be seen. He was 45 and not
completely hard yet, his cock still coiled like a snake in his pants, on view
but held back by its own listlessness and his snap. Behind his thick penis
the flesh of his balls could be glimpsed. They were full with promise,
making the rubber pants bulge. A man walked up to Fred, his penis
arranged differently. He was wearing no pants at all. Instead a leather
band cuffed his cock, binding not just his organ but his balls as well,
wrapping them tightly and emphasizing their size. The man looked about
19 and he was erect. Dangling from the leather band around his penis was
a tiny silver chain. At the end of it was a small strap, seemingly for a
dollÕs hand, the strap making the thing look like what it in fact was, a
miniature leash on the manÕs foot long bone. The man with the world class
erection smiled at Fred. Indulgently his eyes glanced down at FredÕs
rubber pants, at the front of them, at what Fred was offering through his
zipless fly hole.
ÒIÕm selling my cock,Ó the young man informed Fred. The older man
tensed. To his surprise, this boy with such a magnificent penis was not,
he suddenly realized, a dominant. He was a submissive, taking delight not
in what he offered in front, but rather in his bottom. The boy turned
abruptly. Fred saw the youthÕs behind then, and it was engagingly small
and tight and muscled, a fine little ass that he would love to penetrate
with what he held in his rubber pants. The young man looked over his
broad shoulder at him. ÒWill you bid for me?Ó he asked Fred.
ÒI would be a fool not to,Ó Fred answered. Suddenly there was a
chirping sound to his right. He turned. Another young man stood there, and
in his fingers he held the tail of something that made Fred grow suddenly
hard. The snap of his pants failed. His penis popped out of his fly hole.
This new young man was uncommonly beautiful. Fred did not even have to
look at his ass to guess how wonderful it would be. In his hand, before
FredÕs eyes, was a gerbil.
ÒI donÕt know what to do with this,Ó the young man told Fred, holding
up the struggling creature. ÒI just found it and, oh my, I donÕt want to kill
it. Where should I put it?Ó
ÒI can think of someplace,Ó Fred smiled, enjoying the gag.
ÒOh? Can you? Please sir that would be so helpful,Ó the young man
told Fred. He looked down. ÒYou seem to have lost something, sir,Ó he
said, noticing FredÕs new erection. Fred joined the boy in grinning down at
himself.
ÒI have lost something and you have found something,Ó Fred said.
ÒYou should put that somewhere so you donÕt lose it,Ó the young man
told Fred.
ÒI plan to,Ó Fred said.
ÒWell, nice meeting you,Ó the boy said suddenly. He turned. He
offered the 45-year-old a view of his ass, and it was as gorgeous as the
one on the other young man Fred had just met. Knowing that Fred was
looking at it, the young man bent over and put the gerbil on the roomÕs
carpeted floor. A woman in a leather bra that showed her nipples through
holes started, looked down at the creature, and nearly dropped the small
plate of canapes she was holding. The gerbil tried to run across the floor
but the young man was still holding it by the tail.
ÒOH! DonÕt let go of that thing!Ó the woman in the nipple-revealing
bra told the young man.
ÒIÕm just letting him get a little exercise,Ó the young man said, as
the creatureÕs feet moved furiously but he went nowhere, owing to his
captured tail.
Fred sighed. He did not bother to put his penis away again, behind
the snap. Things were going just as he had hoped. His cock had been
revealed by beauty, and he was now sexily hard, and promising to stay
alert and ready until the festivities had begun. He felt a sudden touch. He
realized a woman was gently caressing his newly grown organ. She looked
at him with smiling eyes.
ÒDaddyÕs endowment was never like this,Ó she told him teasingly,
sporting a leather miniskirt that left half her bottom uncovered.
ÒI never had an endowment,Ó Fred answered, truthfully, for he was
the son of a man who had spent his life working in the last of the steel
mills.
ÒOh, youÕre wrong there,Ó the woman told Fred.
ÒAm I?Ó Fred asked, admiring the womanÕs substantial breasts,
which she had joined by the nipples with a chain.
ÒYes,Ó the woman assured Fred, and he coughed, and his cock flexed.
He had to restrain himself by a conscious effort of will, holding back a
sudden urge, lest he make the womanÕs hand sticky. Nonetheless some
clear pre-cum escaped him now and the woman, feeling it ooze onto her
fingers, lifted them to her lips and sucked them.
ÒI- IÕm glad to know that,Ó Fred said.
ÒIÕm sure you are,Ó the woman smiled. She turned away. FredÕs eyes
leapt to her ass, for he was bisexual, and could admire a tight pair of
cheeks on a woman as much as a man. Yes, this would be a great party. He
wanted now to get going with it, to end the preliminaries. He turned to a
blonde woman walking by. She was dressed in a smooth chiffon gown.
Two long strips of the fabric, nearly sheer, sloped down over her breasts,
jutted out with them, and then trailed on down to a hanging piece that
hung down over her pubis, all the way to her legs. The hanging piece in
front was matched by one in back. They were both narrow, such that the
one in the rear left both cheeks of her ass sticking out on either side of it,
just managing to cloak her ass crack, while the one in front narrowly
managed to veil her pubis. When she walked, her long bare legs came
easily out of her gown. Occasionally, as now, as she walked quickly,
flashes of her pubis and ass crack showed. She was wearing open toed
sandals but they had cords on them, which crisscrossed her legs, wrapping
them in an open pattern, almost to her knees. Her hands were gloved, but
there were holes in the ends of the gloves exposing her lovely red-painted
nails and fingers, and the gloves were short, ending before they even
reached her wrists. Above the gloves were cords again, the same as
wrapped her calves. These wrapped her forearms, almost to her elbows.
On her head was wound a laurel made of ivy leaves, purchased from a
Rodeo Drive garden shop. To this figure stepping as if from some Greek
myth Fred now spoke, saying,
ÒReady to begin, darling?Ó Gwen flashed him a smile.
ÒIn a minute,Ó she said. ÒThere are two more guests yet to arrive.Ó
As she spoke the doorbell sounded. Fred turned. He watched Gwen as she
hurried out of the party room and into the little ante chamber that fed
guests into the room. The front door leading into the suites was beyond.
Fred wondered what new delights would be let in to make him even harder.
Gwen smiled at her two new guests. It was Sasha and her lovely
daughter Cindy, and she said this now aloud, smiling and laughing as she
greeted them.
ÒIs it warm out? You look like two polar bears bundled up for
Winter,Ó Gwen told her guests, for they were both wearing fur coats,
purchased for them and sent to them by the gentleman who had paid for
the limo. And that gentleman was Craig, who now stepped out of the party
room and greeted his guests, wearing a pair of leather chaps and leather
underpants, which kept, within their soft fur lined interior, him achingly
hard. Through the belt of his chaps he had pushed a whip, and around his
upper arm, as if preparing for some laborious task, and around his
forehead, he had tied bright red rags. His chest was bare, save for a
leather vest which tried as best it might to cloak his highly developed
musculature. He wore thick leather work gloves on his hands, and boots
with spurs on his feet, as if about to do some heavy riding. And beside
him was the man who had paid for it all, that is whatever could not be
paid for by the various guests pitching in, the man who had assured that
everything was properly lavish, from the costumes to the limo to the
clothes for those who had only their beauty to offer. He was the wealthy
financier Douglas Ambrose, and he, having just rushed in from some
spectacular deal he had made, and being 50, still wore his business suit, a
fact Gwen had assured him would be alright given that he had made all
this possible. He was doubly forgiven for, being new to GwenÕs circle of
friends, someone she had met, of all places, while stuck beside him in her
car on the freeway, he was promising to pay for much more, future parties
and decadent balls, all at GwenÕs arranging, all sure to come off now that
she had him in tow.
ÒThanks for the game,Ó Cindy said to Gwen as the woman made to
take her coat, Craig going to Sasha to remove hers.
ÒIt wasnÕt me, it was him,Ó Gwen said. She indicated Douglas
Ambrose. SashaÕs hand flew to her mouth as her coat slid off her.
ÒOh my God! ArenÕt you--?Ó she gasped at the smiling man holding a
drink and looking as if heÕd just stepped off Wall Street. Then she
blushed, fiercely, for as her coat was removed her costume was revealed.
Her bikini bra sported twin triangles of silk that barely contained her
uprisen nipples. Her panties were smaller than her daughterÕs, for while
the triangle of silk there just managed to veil her pubic mound, it trailed
off to a single thread between her cuntlips, leaving them sexily exposed.
The manÕs eyes widened as he took in what was under SashaÕs coat, the
beauty and wantonness of it. Sasha watched his eyes as they trailed down
over her body and came to the treat between her legs. Her blush increased
as the man saw her cuntlips.
ÒOpen your legs more. I want to see what you have to offer,Ó were
the first words out of this eminently practical manÕs mouth, as Gwen and
Craig hung up these two new guestsÕ coats. Douglas came closer to Sasha
as her embarrassment increased. Biting her lower lip, she did as he
demanded. She opened her thighs, that her pussy lips might be more easily
seen.
ÒOh, Douglas, youÕre with me tonight,Ó Gwen pouted playfully,
jealous that his attention had shifted to her new guest. Still as practical
as ever, one of DouglasÕs blunt fingers reached down and pulled aside the
womanÕs tiny bikini panty, observing with clinical satisfaction the tight-
pressed lips of her cunt.
ÒI like it,Ó Douglas said, as if appraising stock.
ÒHey, stop looking at my momÕs pussy!Ó Cindy blurted. Douglas, his
hand still parting the bikini from her mother, turned to the little girl.
ÒAnd who is this child?Ó Douglas asked.
ÒSheÕs the one you bought the video game for,Ó Gwen told the
financier.
ÒItÕs a very violent game,Ó SashaÕs mom told the man. He looked the
daughter over, not, however, with a view to protecting her morality, from
the game or anything else. When he had found delight in her charms he
returned his gaze to her mother. He let go of her panties.
ÒFor that I apologize,Ó Douglas said to Sasha, and bowed slightly, as
if greeting the woman at a fancy New York soiree. This served only to
increase SashaÕs blush. She reached down and straightened her panties.
ÒNo. Leave them just as they are,Ó Douglas told her.
ÒBut sir, I cannot!Ó Sasha said. ÒAfter all, IÕm a proper young
woman.Ó Then her blush was joined by an embarrassed laugh, and Douglas
grinned broadly, pleased to be at such a decadent party, stocked with such
lovely young guests. He himself was old enough to be this womanÕs father,
and as for her daughter, he could have been her grandfather. Yet there was
no doubt in his mind tonight, now that heÕd met them, that he would fuck
them both.
ÒMy panties are wet,Ó Cindy informed the man, looking up at him
with wide eyes, as if reporting that she had been caught in a rainstorm.
Getting DouglasÕ attention, she continued, ÒMy mom wet them for me.Ó
ÒOh?Ó Douglas said. Sasha blushed again.
ÒTo get her started,Ó she explained.
ÒOf course,Ó Gwen said. Intervening between the financier and his
newest acquaintances she now stepped up to Sasha and put her arms
around her. Without asking permission she kissed the woman full on the
lips. Sasha blinked, surprised. Then, feeling her gorgeous hostessÕ body
pressing against her, she succumbed, and kissed the woman as vigorously
as the woman was kissing her. GwenÕs mouth opened, her tongue
protruded. Sasha blinked again and received.
When Gwen was finished with their kiss she drew back from the
mother and bent and kissed her daughter on the cheek.
ÒPerhaps a word with you first,Ó Gwen said to the mother after
kissing the daughter. Sasha nodded. Gwen turned and told the financier to
get himself another drink and smiled at Brent. Then, escorting Sasha and
her daughter into a side room kept for just such a purpose, she quietly
closed the door and left the men to occupy themselves however the might.
In the small room, which, having a rack at the back of it, could
double as a second, larger coat closet, Gwen again gave Sasha a kiss. But
it was a briefer one, for she had something important to tell her. However
Sasha was the first to gush over her conquest:
ÒOh my God, is that really Douglas Ambrose?Ó Sasha cried in the
confines of the closet.
ÒYes,Ó Gwen answered. She clasped her friendÕs hands. ÒHe came!
To my party! And paid for lots of things too. IsnÕt that wonderful?Ó
ÒYes!Ó Sasha said.
ÒBut you are going to be fucked, dear,Ó Sasha told her friend. ÒI
mean, of course you are going to be, but I mean, hard. The works. Punished
and hurt and fucked.Ó SashaÕs face turned white. Her grip increased on her
friendÕs fingers. ÒI overheard several of the men talking about you before
you arrived,Ó Gwen told Sasha. ÒThey have hired some man who used to
work in a foreign country as an executioner.Ó
ÒOh my God!Ó Sasha cried. Clasping her friendÕs hands harder, which
were adorned with silk mittens, she told her, ÒIf they buy you at auction
they plan to turn you over to him. For professional punishment.Ó
ÒProfessional?Ó Sasha gasped, barely able to get the word out of her
mouth.
ÒYes,Ó Gwen assured her friend. ÒHe is reputed to be a master at
eliciting pain. They say he has no conscience,Ó Gwen added, watching her
friendÕs awe struck eyes, savoring the look of her pretty young lips as she
gasped out her shocked wonder. ÒHe plays the body like an instrument, and
while he is trained in giving pleasure, as a kind of relief to his victims,
his real motivation is delivering pain, taking hours to do his job, not
rushing anything but making it all slow and prolonged and utterly wicked.Ó
Gwen listened to her friendÕs breathing. It was rapid now, coming in short
small gasps, almost like gasps of pleasure, but the fear in her eyes belied
this. ÒI heard of one girl who was tortured for hours and then who, after
being allowed some small relief, which I believe was a quick shit on a
prison commode, was given a stool that had on it something much larger
than what had just come out of her, a big rubber dildo that she was told to
force up her ass.Ó
ÒOh, Gwen!Ó Sasha said, almost choking on the words as she spoke
them.
ÒYes,Ó Gwen told her guest. ÒHe has his own equipment, his own
place where he does it, his own props, if you can call them that, and heÕs
waiting for you.Ó Sasha pressed her face to her friendÕs shoulder. As she
felt the cool flesh of her hostess, against the bone of her shoulder
underneath, she began to sob. Her breasts, heaving with her sobs, escaped
quickly from her tiny bra cups. Her nipples poked against GwenÕs gown-
covered tits and the hostess, reaching up, tickled one with her finger.
ÒAh, donÕt!Ó Sasha cried. ÒYou will make me want him even though I
donÕt.Ó Gwen smiled at her friend.
ÒThat string between your cuntlips isnÕt helping,Ó she said.
ÒNo, it isnÕt,Ó Sasha agreed. She bit her lip again. Then Gwen kissed
her, and their kiss was a long one, broken only by Cindy, who had been
looking up at them the whole time, saying,
ÒIÕm bored, mommie. Can we go to the party now?Ó Sasha looked at
her daughter. Gwen did too, and she patted the little girl on her head,
which made her flinch and wrinkle her nose, and she sad,
ÒAs for you, there must be no misunderstandings my dear. Your
mother is here to enjoy herself, and to explore a side of her sexuality that
she never knew existed until she met me. DonÕt interfere. You look
lovely,Ó she added, eliciting a meek,
ÒThank you,Ó from Cindy.
ÒYouÕre to be put on the auction block with your mother and sold
with her,Ó Gwen told Cindy. ÒBut you might get separated, and if so, you
must bear up on your own. And another thing: you have escaped from two
parties with your virginity intact. DonÕt expect it to happen again,Ó Gwen
said.
ÒI wonÕt,Ó Cindy answered, clutching the video game that Douglas
had bought for her.
ÒGo play with that somewhere if you decide things are too much for
you,Ó Gwen told the girl. ÒBut decide early. And make sure if you leave
the party and go downstairs or whatever that you put something on, a
towel at least. ThereÕs a pool downstairs and you can hang around it by
yourself or even swim in it maybe. I doubt anyone will be there.Ó
ÒReally?Ó Cindy asked, her eyes lighting up with innocent charm, for
what better use to put a bikini to, even her tiny one, than in swimming?
ÒYes,Ó Gwen said. ÒJust remember to have a towel handy.Ó
ÒOkay,Ó Cindy said. She turned the game in her hands back on, having
turned it off when they arrived at the hotel, at her motherÕs insistence.
Accompanied by the beeps of the game she now came out of the spare
closet, along with her mother and Gwen, the hostess ushering the two
young women out as if having shared with them some quiet pre-party tea.
ÒGentlemen, your guests for the evening,Ó Gwen said to Douglas and
Craig, who were still in the anteroom, though now, as it turned out, with
females from the party room teasingly accompanying them. The women
who had gathered around Douglas Ambrose and Craig smiled at their
competition. Everyone would get to partake here, there were no
jealousies, or very few anyway, and those concealed. Commenting again
on the charms of the two newest guests, in their micro bikinis, Douglas
led the way into the party room.
30
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