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Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
SUMMER OF SIN
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Chapter Three
I found myself in a larger home, still in the center of Paris. We had
parked in a garage attached to the back of the house and gone inside. A
woman received us. She took our coats off. She gazed briefly at our
nudity, then spoke to a servant.
ÒThey will require baths,Ó she said. The woman was about 40, the
servant perhaps a little younger. We were led away by the servant;
Rebecca drunk, myself confused. The man remained behind with the
woman whoÕd greeted us. In the car he had not molested me, as I thought
he would. Instead he had simply let me sit beside him, his arm gallantly
around my waist. He treated Rebecca the same way, not touching her, save
to hold her with his arm. SheÕd talked of silly things. HeÕd listened,
mostly. SheÕd told him of a ring sheÕd bought downtown, as if we were
going, perhaps, to lunch together.
I was taken into a bathroom by the servant and deposited with yet
another servant. The house was lavish in the extreme. The bathroom left
me in awe. A big marble tub already brimmed with bubbles, the water
still rising in it. Hot steam wafted up.
ÒShe is to be?Ó one servant, a middle-aged woman, said to the other.
ÒYes. The bottom,Ó the servant replied. Then they left, Rebecca
taken away from me, with only the newest servant remaining behind.
ÒWhat is to happen?Ó I asked the servant, one female to another. It
had taken me awhile to muster the courage to ask such a question, I
thought. I should have asked the man, in the car. But he made me afraid.
ÒI do not speak the English,Ó the woman replied. She helped me into
the tub, efficiently, even as she spoke to me. ÒYour jewels,Ó she said.
ÒOff.Ó Standing in the tub, I let her strip me of them. She laid them
carefully on a cloth on the bathroom counter.
I was pushed to a sitting position in the tub when she had set aside
my jewels. She washed me. She used a washcloth. When she had done all
of me, including even my hair, she pulled me from the tub. I felt like a
small child, handled by its mother. She dried me. She sat my bottom on
the furred seat of a toilet. She told me, ÒStay,Ó and went and got a
makeup kit out of the bathroom cabinet. Then she did my face, very
carefully. She also brushed my pubis and inspected it. I felt awkward,
knew not what to do, sat with my legs splayed as she did it. Then she
touched a rouge pencil to my nipples and colored them, making them
redder.
ÒNow you ready,Ó the woman said in broken English.
ÒFor what?Ó I asked.
ÒI no speak the English,Ó the woman replied. I thought she might
kiss my cheek. Perhaps she considered it. But in the event, she did not.
Instead she took my hand, made me stand, and escorted me out of the
bathroom. The man was waiting for me on the other side of the bathroom
door.
When I had met him at the party, not noticing him too much until he
grabbed my hand and pulled me from the bathroom, he had been dressed in
spaghetti-stained Speedos. Now, however, he had showered, and dressed
himself to the nines in a jacket, tie, and pants. I was presented to him by
the servant, who quickly absented herself from the room. I was nude, thin,
shivering with fear. My nipples on my upraised breasts were rouged. I
offered them to him, unwittingly, strangely wishing to keep my posture
straight even as his eyes devoured me. My uptilted tits felt as if someone
had put a match to their tips, setting them on fire. I felt my hands caress
my thighs, my hips, and finally settle awkwardly between my legs,
covering my pubis.
He grabbed me. His hand seized the back of my newly-brushed mane
of hair and yanked my head back. He made me offer him my lips. I gasped.
He took my opened mouth as an invitation to insert his tongue. He stabbed
hard between my teeth. He forced my jaws apart farther, he filled me up
with the meaty flesh of his tongue, making me yelp at his intrusiveness.
When he let me gulp down air I did so tremblingly, his hand still on
my hair, but letting me have free movement of my head again. My nipples,
scraping against his overarching body, pressed hard to his suit and then
released from its enveloping touch, felt even more inflamed.
ÒI shall train you in the arts of love, as they relate to the whip,Ó the
man said to me in a gruff, no-nonsense voice. ÒThen my son shall fuck
your bottom.Ó
ÒI do not wish--Ó I said in a high-pitched voice. He drew a black
cloth from his breast pocket. It had been fetchingly arranged there, neatly
folded into a ruffled V. I had thought it a handkerchief. It proved longer,
and thinner than a handkerchief when he gave it a flick and unfurled it. It
was a gag. He pressed it quickly between my lips and then, turning my
nude figure as a potter turns a soft, new urn upon his wheel, he turned me
so my back was to him and tied the gag in the nesting of my hair. He lifted
my long ropy mane of hair with his hand first, carefully, but resolutely, as
if I were a young pony being bitted.
Then he paused. With myself biting fruitlessly into my gag, trying to
get it off me, my hands skittering nervously across my hips, wondering if
I dared to tear the gag from my mouth with my fingers, he breathed, ÒGod,
you have a perfect figure. A wonderful bottom!Ó Then he turned me to
face him. He kissed me again, passionately, right over the gag that split
my lips and kept my tongue pressed back into my mouth and my jaws apart.
It was a long, loving kiss, despite the gag, and the fact that it kept him
from pushing his tongue deeply into my mouth again, as he had before.
It was he who seemed to need the air more when at last our faces
slipped apart.
ÒForgive me,Ó he gasped, drawing in a breath. ÒI should not succumb
to your beauty. In Saudi Arabia it was forbidden. A whipmaster should
never enjoy the charms of a prisoner.Ó
A servant, a male, opened the door to the bedroom.
ÒMaster, there--Ó he paused. ÒOh, forgive me,Ó he said. He wore an
embroidered white shirt and black pants. There was a thin black tie
securely fastened around his neck. His sleeves were rolled up.
ÒYes, Benson?Ó the man holding me said to the servant.
ÒThere is a call requesting your services in Havenhurst,Ó the servant
said, bowing slightly, then presenting in his hand a portable phone. ÒA
manÕs wife returned home late and her husband wishes to have her
corrected.Ó
ÒHave them make an appointment,Ó the man holding me answered.
ÒTell them the wait will do them good. I cannot come this evening.Ó
ÒYes, master,Ó the servant replied. Quietly he shut the bedroom
door, disappearing as quickly as heÕd appeared. The man holding me shook
his head.
ÒSo busy these days,Ó he said. He looked in my eyes. ÒI must do you,
then your sister,Ó he said. ÒCome, let us have you in the bed.Ó
I resisted, but he seemed to take it as an enticement, seeing me
wriggle, batting my hands away from my gag when I tried to lift my
fingers to it. He pushed me across the room, keeping one hand gripped
around one of my wrists so he could control me. I was made to mount up
on a large bed. It stood high off the floor, with stairs for a girl like
myself to get up on it. I climbed them. He held my wrist. He cupped my
bottom and guided me up with his hand hot-pressed to my cheeks. They
wobbled upon his palm. When I was standing on the bed he put his foot up
on it and stepped up behind me. I tried to lie down.
ÒNo,Ó he said. ÒYou will not be sleeping in the bed. You will remain
standing,Ó he said. He pushed me forward, himself behind me, both of us
standing on the bed now. He walked me up to the pillows. My feet sank in
the bed, I walked unsteadily. When he had me standing between two
pillows, he pressed me up against the wall. The bedÕs wooden headboard
bumped against my knees. I gasped. With my tummy hard against the wall,
I lifted my chin and looked up. My nipples, stiff, poked into the wallÕs
fabric. It was a satiny fabric, but dull in appearance. My breasts, crushed
to the wall, ballooned between myself and its hardness. Above I saw twin
iron rings. The man lifted my right wrist and fastened it into the ring set
in the wall. I should have used my other hand to tear at the gag in my
mouth, but instead I let it hang aimlessly by my side, waiting. When he
had fastened up my right wrist, he took hold of my left and lifted it and
imprisoned it like my right. I was left standing with my wrists upraised,
my arms apart. My hands, widely separated from each other, grasped with
their fingers at the flatness of the wall, uselessly.
The man stepped away from me.
The bedroom door opened. I twisted my head back, fearfully, and saw
a young man in the door. He looked about 15. He had a face in need of a
shave, as boys do when they are old enough to shave but havenÕt started
yet.
ÒIs she ready, father?Ó the boy asked.
ÒNot yet, son,Ó the man replied. ÒCome when I call you. Not before,Ó
he said.
ÒYes, father,Ó the boy answered. ÒShe is a fine one.Ó
ÒDo not play with yourself waiting, and shoot before I call,Ó the man
answered.
ÒYes, father,Ó the boy said. The door shut. Tremblingly, I was left
with the man again, alone.
ÒI am too big for your virgin ass, otherwise IÕd perform the
necessary insertion with my own prong,Ó the man told me. His voice was
clinical, like that of a doctor. ÒIn Saudi Arabia I worked with boys,
opening up young bridesÕ bottoms for their new husbands. And,
occasionally,Ó he added, Òthe bottoms of young boys who had male lovers
who didnÕt mind flaunting the Koran.Ó
His words made me quiver all over. I felt my knees tremble. He took
advantage of my nervousness to open my legs. He pushed the pillows aside
and spread my knees so that they were a good two feet, or more, apart
from each other. Then he drew iron rings out from under the bedÕs
headboard. First one, locking it around my right ankle, then a second,
putting it around my left. Each one was lined with fur. It was attached by
a very short chain to the wall beyond the bedÕs wooden headboard. Thus
fixed, I stood with my arms and legs in a wide vee.
ÒPush out your bottom,Ó the man told me. ÒOffer it.Ó He walked to
the edge of the bed and leaned out and opened an armorie that stood close
beside us. I swivelled my head back behind me fearfully, yet obeyed his
command to better present my bottom. I saw the armorie was mirrored
inside. Amidst the sparkling mirrors, the contents magnified and
reflected out to my eyes, was a motley assortment of flagellatory items.
My bottomcheeks cringed. I emitted a plaintive sob. I felt my
breath, drawn in through my nose, catch in my chest. My tummy released
butterflies and they flew up to my ears, making me so nervous I could
barely think.
ÒBottom out!Ó the man snapped. He had taken a long bamboo cane
from the armorie. He swished it in the air. ÒYour ass will taste each of
these implements, so you can get a feel for each one,Ó the man said. He
gestured expansively at the armorieÕs contents. ÒThis,Ó he said, Òis a
cane, that I am holding now. It was cut and polished in the Philippines. I
wonder if they thought of the spoilt young girlÕs bottom that would taste
it, as they worked their fingers upon its length, making it perfect? You
will not have to handle it, my dear. Only your ass will ever touch it.Ó
I closed my eyes. I felt my knees sag. I let out a pitiful wail.
ÒWhat? Crying before it even touches you?Ó the man asked. ÒI
expect more bravery than that, even in a girl of 13,Ó he said. ÒImagine
your sister, waiting downstairs for her turn. You at least do not have to
wait for it, as she does.Ó
I heard a slicing in the air behind me. Suddenly, the cane connected
with my bottom. I lurched forward. My cheeks were forced to splurge
under its contact, briefly, before it darted away, leaving a white line of
heat across my bottomhalves. I felt my tummy pressed hard against the
wall. I worked my bare ass where, moments before, the cane had been
pressing into my flesh.
ÒEEEIEIEIeeek!Ó I wailed into my gag. The man behind me laughed. My
bottom burned, harshly.
ÒYes, that is what the cane feels like,Ó the man said.
He gave me another stroke. It was sharp, quick, leaving a bright line
of pain across my pale skin, just like the first. I ground my hips into the
wall and felt screams tear themselves from my throat. My nipples dug
harshly into the satiny wallpaper.
ÒWhat a display you make of your fine young ass,Ó the man said. ÒI
should have my son come in and watch this.Ó But instead he tossed the
cane to the bed and reached in the armorie again, taking out a small whip.
ÒThis is a pony whip,Ó he said. ÒSlender, unbraided, with no knot at the
end. It is for tender young horses, so as not to mar their backsides before
a buyer has been found.Ó He swung it. It sliced into the flesh of my
bottom. I screeched at the ceiling. ÒMy, you are as jumpy as the young
horses the whip was made for,Ó the man laughed. He gazed at my nude
bottom as I rolled it about, rudely, and shoved it wantonly into the air
behind me. ÒOne more,Ó the man said. He used my unwittingly proffered
bottom as an invitation to give me a second stroke. I shouted. I made a
new display of my fanny, arching my back, pushing my hinds out in an
effort to cool them. ÒWe shall go through each one of these implements,
letting you get a taste of each,Ó the man said calmly.
By the time his son entered, I was a quivering, broken figure, hung
from the wall like a three-dimensional painting, with only the soft sobs in
my throat and the febrile jerkings of my hips to indicate I was alive. My
bottom was red-ribboned, marked like a roadmap. Yet all the lines were
delicate, placed as if with care, and no blood had been drawn. It was as if
my pale bottom, white as china, had been carefully marked by an able
craftsman. His son was ruder, less, calm. He prised apart my stinging
bottomcheeks and shoved in his staff. It was well-oiled by the servants.
He put it all the way up my virgin ass. Then he pleased himself for several
minutes, rodding himself in me. At last he spilled his seed. He wanted to
have another go, after a momentÕs rest, but his father told him he had to
still do my ÔsisterÕ downstairs. With reluctance he pecked my cheek with
his unshaven face and was gone.
ÒYes, that was my son,Ó the man said, gazing at my bottom where his
sonÕs seed was oozing out of my ass. ÒLike I said, I would do you myself,
but you are too new for me. I would split you in two, I fear.Ó He put up all
the implements, back in the armorie, as I hung crying upon the wall. ÒThe
servants will come and take you down now,Ó the man said. ÒThey will
bathe you. Then, if I am still busy with your sister, perhaps you will have
a short nap. Then a car will take you home. You have done well. Be proud
of your first experience. The marks of it will fade in a few days, at
most.Ó
He did not kiss me, or touch me. He finished putting his things away
in the armorie. Then, still dressed to the nines, but with a slight
awkwardness in his walk, and a visible bulge in the front of his pants, he
left. He shut the door quietly, as if not to disturb my sobs. A few minutes
later two servants came in. They were both female, not males, apparently
to preserve some shred of my dignity. They released me from the wall.
They took me into the bathroom and gave me a bath. The touch of their
hands upon my bottom made me jerk and cry out.
ÒShe is sensitive there,Ó one woman said to the other.
ÒYes,Ó the first agreed, then gave a smirk.
ÒOh, darling, itÕs nothing, really,Ó Rebecca said to me, when we were
safely back at her home. We stood alone in her bedroom. It was early
morning. The light from the rising sun shone in the windows of her
bedroom that faced toward the east. ÒYou should be proud of your little
marks,Ó she said.
ÒBut--Ó I squealed. RebeccaÕs hand touched my hiney. I flinched.
Rebecca put me in front of a full-length mirror. She inspected my
bottom for me. I complained to her, bitterly, for getting me into such a
condition. She smiled and patted my ass, making me wince. ÒIt is not as
if I didnÕt have the same,Ó she said. We stood red-bottomed beside each
other. She made me trace the lines the whip had left across her seat with
my finger. I felt pity for her, even though it was she whoÕd been the cause
of my grief. I kissed her seat.
ÒOh!Ó Rebecca said, jumping slightly. She laughed. ÒHow tender and
sweet you are,Ó she said. ÒYou will do well in Paris.Ó
Rebecca soon received an invitation to another party. It came in the
mail. This invitation, despite my brief stay in Paris, included me in it as
well. I was flattered, yet embarrassed too, for we had not been seen in
sequined gowns at the previous party.
ÒDonÕt fret,Ó Rebecca told me. ÒOnly the best-looking girls get
invited.Ó
We arrived bejeweled, as before, after many hours of having our hair
done, and our nails and faces, looking our absolute best. Our coats were
quickly taken by the woman who greeted us. Underneath we wore
fashionable bikinis. In addition we wore gloves, short ones this time,
stretching only as far as our wrists. I had a pearl bracelets around each
of my wrists, over my gloves. I wore spiked heels on my feet.
I heard noise coming from a room adjacent to the entryway where
we were greeted. I stepped towards it, a little unsteady in my heels.
They were new, I was nervous.
ÒThis way,Ó the woman whoÕd greeted us said. She took my arm,
then led myself and Rebecca away from the boisterous room, and into a
kitchen. Servants met us in the kitchen. It was large, spacious. Metal
pots hung over a wooden table in the center of it. ÒPlease take off your
bikinis,Ó the woman said to us. Then she left, for the doorbell had rung.
More guests were coming.
I looked at Rebecca quizzically. But she only smiled at me, shyly,
and reached for the clasp of her bra, behind herself, saying to me, ÒIt is
best to do as she says.Ó
We undressed. The servants watched us. I blushed, undoing my bra.
When it was off me and my bosoms hung nakedly before my eyes, I asked a
servant woman where I might hang it.
ÒI will take it,Ó she said, brusquely. She placed it on a silver
serving tray. Then, as I watched, my mouth gasping in surprise, she laid it
with the cups showing their insides. She filled each bra cup with pudding.
She put a cherry on top of each quivering mound of pudding. Then she
arranged fruit; slices of orange and pears, and full, uncut bananas around
my bra.
ÒPlease remove your panties,Ó the woman said to me when sheÕd
finished decorating the tray. I looked at Rebecca. My aunt was blushing.
Her own bra had been laid on a tray and its cups filled with pudding and
cherries. Now she tugged at the ties of her panties and undid those. Mine
had no ties and I had to pull them down my legs and step out of them.
When I did, lifting them from my feet with my hands, the servant woman
snatched them away from me. I watched with shocked eyes as she opened
my panties, making the crotch and the inside show, and laid them on yet
another silver tray. Then she dropped bits of pineapple into my panties.
After this she put scoops of ice cream around my panties and decorated
the ice cream with nuts.
Meanwhile, still wearing my heels, still mittened with my jewelled
gloves, I was held by the servants and whipped cream sprayed onto my
bush. I shouted. They bade me be silent. Rebecca giggled. The same was
done to her. Whipped cream was squirted around my bush and, my legs
being parted by rough hands, up between my thighs. Then it was sprayed
up along the line between my bottomcheeks. Finally it was sprayed in a
single thin trail around my hips, forming in appearance bikinied panties
made of whipped cream. Then they put the can of whipped cream to my
nipples and sprayed each of those. When theyÕd been coated they sprayed
in larger circles until theyÕd covered a good portion of each of my bosoms.
My nipples stood up perkily, breaking through the cream, and they re-
sprayed them. Carefully they then continued their work, creating as they
sprayed a small bra of whipped cream for my breasts. It had all the
appearance of a real halter, save that, unlike a real bra, which had to be
undone, this one could simply be licked away.
I gazed at Rebecca. She was clad as myself, wearing real gloves and
heels but a bikini made of whipped cream. Our hostess was called. She
re-entered the kitchen. She gazed at us. She smiled. Then she looked at
the silver serving trays where our bikinis had been made into dessert.
ÒYes, youÕll both do very nicely,Ó our hostess said. ÒCome this way,
please. ItÕs time for you to join the guests in the dining room.Ó
Rebecca and I were led into an elegant dining room. There were
perhaps 20 people, all formally dressed. Some were old. Others were
young. A chandelier sparkled above the table. I saw they were just
finishing dinner.
ÒTwo young ladies will be joining us for dessert,Ó our hostess,
whom I later learned was named Rose, announced to the room. Rebecca and
I blushed as she led us in. She walked with each of us holding one of her
hands. We walked daintily so as not to smear the cream sprayed between
our legs, our thighs deliberately apart. A gasp went up. I felt my blushing
face turn redder still.
Gentlemen arose from their places. I was offered a seat between a
man and a woman at one end of the table. Rebecca was put in a chair at
the tableÕs other end. It was a long, single table, accommodating all the
diners. I sat down carefully in the seat of a satin-covered chair. I felt
the whipped cream on my bottom spread on the chairÕs cushion under me. I
kept my legs apart so as not to make a mess of myself.
ÒPlease, have some dessert,Ó Rose told me. A servant, coming in
behind us, presented me with the silver tray that held my bra. Blushingly I
scooped pudding out of my bra. I put it on the china plate in front of me.
Meanwhile, another servant was offering around the tray that held my
panties. Men and women scooped pineapple out of them and put it on their
plates. We began eating.
ÒYou have lovely breasts. May I sample them?Ó the woman beside me
asked, when sheÕd finished what was on her plate. I nodded. She was in
her 20Õs, I guessed. She wore a low-cut gown. It showed the tops of her
bosoms. She leaned over and licked at my nearest tit. Her tongue laved
off some of the whipped cream. She exposed one of my nipples with her
tongue. My red teat stuck out, licked clean and looking like a bright red
cherry stem. I gasped. I cast my eyes toward Rebecca and saw a woman
was doing the same to her.
ÒOh!Ó My aunt shouted. ÒPlease donÕt bite them,Ó I heard her murmur.
I looked up, quickly, and saw a sly gleam come to the eyes of the woman
feeding at my auntÕs tits.
ÒI didnÕt know you were so sensitive,Ó the woman smirked. But the
way she smiled, I could tell, she knew better than to bite as hard as she
had. But sheÕd done it anyway.
ÒStand up, girl!Ó a manÕs voice said. I realized he was speaking to
me. Offering me a seat between himself and his wife, he had been so
gallant. He had even averted his eyes from my whip creamed bosoms and
bush, so as not to make me blush too badly, gazing instead into my eyes.
Now he was gruff, insistent. ÒStand up!Ó he said again.
I rose from my chair. The manÕs wife clutched at my tits, not
releasing them even to allow me to stand, though her husband, finding me
slow, yanked me up by my arm.
ÒTurn. Let me see your bottom. Have you got whipped cream in your
butthole?Ó the man asked me. I heard him tut with disapproval. ÒItÕs all
up inside your bottom crack, and youÕve left some on the seat where you
were sitting,Ó the man said. ÒThese seat coverings are expensive.Ó
ÒIÕm-- IÕm expensive to-ooo!Ó I replied, feeling him grope at the
cheeks of my ass. He pried them open. He gazed at the cream that had
insinuated itself into my furrow from the movements of my body.
ÒI shall have to lick it out,Ó the man said. ÒI shall not charge you for
the procedure if you donÕt charge me for the pleasure I take from your cunt
afterward. Fair enough?Ó
ÒOook!Ó was my only reply. I had meant I was expensive because I
was only 13, and he might get in trouble for fondling me. He took my
meaning as being that of a statement by a whore. I blushed deeply as I
felt his tongue dig within my ass. ÒNot-- not so deep! YouÕre going where
there isnÕt any cream!Ó I shouted.
ÒMy, how they complain. For tarts, they are most petulant,Ó a
woman remarked. Our hostess laughed.
ÒNo, no! They arenÕt paid hookers,Ó she said. ÒThey are sisters.Ó
My aunt looked up from her breasts, where a man and his wife were
feeding like newborn children. She lifted a hand and brushed back her hair
from her eyes.
ÒOooch!Ó my aunt said, and winced. The man, apparently, had done
something indiscreet with his finger in her cunt. She recovered herself
and, looking at the hostess, said: ÒNot sisters. IÕm her aunt. Oh, please!Ó
she cried. She looked down at one of her tits.
ÒItÕs just a hickey,Ó the woman at her breast replied.
ÒDonÕt bite them!Ó my aunt said of her breasts. There was pleading
in her voice. ÒYou are too rough.Ó
ÒIs that an invitation, dear?Ó the woman asked.
The hostess clapped her hands together.
ÒHere! Here!Ó she announced. ÒI should have sorted things out better.
Please help Rebecca up on the table. And her niece.Ó She looked over at
me. She did not know my name. ÒHave her up on the table too. They shall
do each other, if they find our attentions disagreeable.Ó
ÒPerhaps we should just go--Ó Rebecca said.
ÒHome? It is too late for that, my dear, and I shall not have you go
home unpleasured.Ó
ÒOh, but I do not wish to lick my own niece!Ó Rebecca cried. At that
moment, however, she was being helped to knee her way up onto the table.
Space was made for both of us by people, none of whom we knew, clearing
away their plates and the serving trays. The twin candles on the table
were moved farther apart.
ÒI canÕt lick my aunt!Ó I protested. I was lifted up by the man who
had been working his tongue too deep in my fanny. My feet, clad in high
heels, kicked. My hands, gloved and bejeweled, balled into small fists. I
gaped at my aunt. Her own eyes, wide with alarm, stared back at me.
ÒBy coming to my party you agreed to have an orgasm before you
could leave,Ó our hostess said. ÒWittingly or unwittingly, you agreed to
this. What did you think the words ÔBody BuffetÕ meant, dears, in the
invitation?Ó our hostess asked.
ÒI didnÕt never see the invitation,Ó I said.
ÒOh, my!Ó my aunt said. A single sob escaped her throat. We knelt on
the table, facing each other. Then, slowly, she lay down. The two candles
on the table cast glimmering shadows over her body. ÒPut your mouth--
put your mouth in my pussy,Ó my aunt said to me. ÒDo it! We shall cum, so
we can go.Ó
ÒI donÕt wanna,Ó I said, frankly. My auntÕs arms reached for my hips.
ÒSlide your own pussy up to me and kneel over my face,Ó Rebecca said.
She ringed my bare waist with her bare arms, her short gloves caressing
my skin. I felt the jewels on her wrists rubbing me. They felt knobby and
sharp, in contrast to the soft felt-like feel of her gloves.
ÒJust do it,Ó my aunt said. I let her draw me toward her. I mounted
her like a man would, sitting myself over her so that my flat, inward-
sloping pubis made contact with her mouth. She delved her tongue into my
slit. It licked at the whipped cream wedged up in my slot. She got
whipped cream from my bush on her chin and her nose. Her lips became
whitened with it.
ÒOoooh! Stop! YouÕre licking me in my pussy!Ó I declared to my aunt.
That she would do anything less, with me sitting on her face, was, I admit,
ridiculous, but in my girlish mind just because I was sitting on her nose
didnÕt mean she had to stick her tongue up me.
ÒDo the same,Ó our hostess intoned. ÒDo the same. Lean forward and
put your face down in your auntÕs nest. Make her cum on your tongue. Lick
away all the cream from her pussy and leave her bare and clean. Do it!Ó
our hostess shouted. There was a deep hush in the room. I blinked at all
the strangers around me. The men and women stared back. Their eyes
seemed cold and hard and I didnÕt like them. I found myself staring at the
eyes of the hardest-faced man in the crowd, and for some reason, I kept
my eyes on him. At first I was too scared to look away. Then, slowly, as
our eyes drilled into each other, it became an act of defiance. I wouldnÕt
look away until he did. And he didnÕt. He had a short, brown mustache and
he stared at me, hard and long, and I gaped back at him, feeling my auntÕs
tongue slowly working up inside my pussy. I emitted a soft, moany gasp.
Then another. But all the while I kept my eyes on the man. I refused to
put my face down into my auntÕs snatch.
The man leaned forward. I saw his big arm come toward me. It was
muscular. Attached to it was a large hand with big fingers. He took hold
of the back of my head, like a parent might take hold of the head of its
child. His fingers gripped within my long hair. Quickly and firmly he
pressed my head down. He kept pushing it down until my lips touched
against my auntÕs pubis. I got whipped cream on my nose.
ÒLick,Ó the man commanded.
ÒNoook!Ó I burbled, but my tongue extruded from between my lips and
I sampled my auntÕs snatch.
ÒThatÕs a good girl,Ó the man said. ÒEat. Eat your dinner.Ó
ÒBut I doonÕt want my auntieÕs pussy for dinner!Ó I cried. My tongue
got more whipped cream on it as I tried to speak. He pushed my face
harder against her pussy.
ÒLick!Ó the man shouted.
I licked. Like a doggie I licked, scared and afraid and with the manÕs
big hand pressing my face down into my aunt, between her spread legs. At
the same time my aunt nuzzled deeply within my own slit. We probed each
otherÕs sexual organs. We feasted within the openings to each othersÕ
wombs. We cried out as our mutual ministrations drove us toward the
edge of orgasmic bliss. In front of strangers. With hard, steely, uncaring
eyes watching us. The thought of all those unknown eyes looking at me
made me become aroused. I shivered on my auntÕs tongue. I felt her thighs
widen beneath me and she let out a soft, gentle cry.
ÒNOOOO!Ó I gasped, realizing what was happening. I didnÕt want to
cum in front of all these wicked people, with the manÕs hand still firmly
pushing upon the back of my head, making me eat out my aunt.
ÒNo!Ó my aunt said. It was a whimpering plea. It sounded as if she
wished, with her mind, that we might stop. But her legs opened more for
me, and I stabbed my tongue deeper.
We drove each other over cliffs of desire and into valleys of bliss
beyond.
When it was over, we both sat up. We blinked at our fellow guests.
They smiled approvingly. IÕd heard zippers unzipping as we attained our
desire and now, gazing at us, many of the men seemed to be doing
something private with their hands under the table. The women, too,
seemed occupied, as if their fingers had found places up inside themselves
where they too could achieve the same pleasures my aunt and I had just
treated each other to.
ÒWell done, girls,Ó our hostess said. I looked over at my aunt. She
put her gloved hand to her bare tummy and rubbed it.
ÒIÕm full of whipped cream,Ó she confessed to me with a smile.
ÒI am too,Ó I said. I burped. A whip-cream flavored bubble appeared
on my lips and then vanished.
My aunt leaned over and kissed me. ÒIÕm sorry,Ó she whispered in my
ear.
ÒItÕs okay,Ó I said. And, truly, now that it was over, and I was
feeling all warm and blissful, I rather liked what IÕd been forced to do,
though I felt like a slut, thinking that. I blushed and saw my aunt was
blushing too.
Hands came to my hips. I turned, quickly, and looked behind myself.
It was the man with the mustache, whoÕd forced me to eat my aunt! He
pulled me toward him. I slid bare-bottomed across the table. He stood up.
I shouted as I saw his big, heavy cock bob into view. The fly of his pants
had been unzipped. He displayed himself to my eyes. He yanked me down
off the table and forced me to stand on the floor. He kept my back to him.
He pushed on my head and made me lean forward over the table. I felt my
lips brush the tablecloth. I kissed it. I closed my eyes. I felt the manÕs
penis nose its way up between my legs. I tried to clip them together but
he slapped my bottom, hard.
ÒOuch!Ó I gasped.
ÒOh!Ó I heard, beside me. My eyes popped open. It was my aunt! She
was leaning over the table now, just like me, standing right beside me.
ÒOh, we are to be fucked. IÕm so sorry!Ó my aunt said to me.
ÒYouchch! I can feel your penis, sir! ItÕs going in my pussy!Ó I
declared to the man behind me.
ÒOh!Ó my aunt said again. She winced. ÒNot there!Ó she begged.
ÒWet yourself in her pussy. Then, when weÕve lubed ourselves in
their cunts, weÕll have a go at their asses,Ó the man with the hard face
said to someone who was standing behind my aunt.
ÒYeah,Ó a male voice laughed.
ÒOh, they are to be raped!Ó our hostess said, in a voice that was
anything if not delighted.
ÒPlease, sir, take your dick out of me!Ó I pleaded with the man who
was intruding himself up between my legs.
ÒIt is no use! We only invite worse if we resist,Ó my aunt sighed.
Her face gave a half-hearted smile. Our breasts bounced together as we
were both invaded.
ÒHeÕs doing me, auntie!Ó I shouted.
ÒIt is too late,Ó Rebecca said. She leaned toward me and kissed me
on my lips. ÒAccept, darling. Do not fight it.Ó
ÒWork your hips,Ó the man taking liberties with my cunt ordered. I
wriggled, trying to break free, and he complimented me.
ÒOh, please donÕt be too hard on her,Ó my aunt begged.
ÒI will have her as I see fit,Ó the man behind me answered. I shouted
helplessly as I felt his big, urgent thing nose up into my twat. He
stretched me with it and filled me up. I was sure he was going to tear me
open, like a rag doll being abused by a toothsome dog.
ÒOh, you are so large!Ó my aunt gasped to the man doing her.
ÒWait until I shove it up your ass,Ó the man groaned.
ÒNo!Ó my aunt sighed in reply. Together they began moving as one.
ÒYes,Ó the man insisted. His voice rich with satisfaction. ÒGod,
youÕre tight,Ó he added. ÒI canÕt wait to feel what your shit hole feels
like.Ó
All around us now, women were put to menÕs prongs. Many were bent
over the table, just like my aunt and myself. Others preferred to sit, the
woman facing the man, poised in his lap, his penis going up inside her as
she began bouncing on it. One woman and man laid down on the table, and
began humping for all to see, using the table as if it were a kind of stage,
and they performers. He lay over her and drilled into her splayed thighs,
working his hips like a gymnast. She lay beneath, moaning, kicking up her
legs. She clutched at his back.
ÒYou shall need oil if you are to do their bottoms,Ó our hostess said
to the two men raping my aunt and myself. She appeared at their sides.
She stood between them and patted their asses.
ÒNo, please!Ó my aunt whimpered.
ÒOh, I donnnnna wish to,Ó I shivered. I felt surprisingly gentle hands
vent the cheeks of my fanny. Fingers slid down the sloping sides of my
behind, into my furrow. One of them found my hole. It pressed. I shouted.
The penis in me withdrew. It left me gaping at the air with my cunt. I
felt a bulbous cock head slide up from my empty cunt and press hard
within my ass.
ÒGive me the oil,Ó the man behind me said gruffly to our hostess.
She laughed, and I felt wetness sprinkled into the crack of my behind.
ÒOh, God! Please! It will hurt her!Ó my aunt said. There was high
tension in her voice, as if she were already being entered from behind.
ÒI donÕt need the oil. I am slick with her own juices,Ó the man
behind my aunt said.
ÒUnnnhhhh,Ó my aunt groaned. It sounded as if all the air were being
driven from her lungs.
ÒOook!Ó I gasped. There was a sudden hard push against my anus.
Hands spread my ass wide. Pressure built up against my behind. ÒNo,
donÕt!Ó I shouted. I felt a fleshy hardness penetrate me. It pushed deep. I
felt the big tube of his penis work up into me like a big slug. I beat my
fists on the table. I shouted. My aunt screeched out her displeasure
beside me.
ÒThey are a tight pair,Ó our hostess said. ÒGo slowly, men. I should
not wish to see our two newest guests injured.Ó
The men obeyed. They took their time. I do not know which would
have been worse, being fucked quickly and hard, or slowly and
methodically and deliberately, as they did us, savoring our every whimper
and adjusting themselves within us until both my aunt and myself had
accepted the entire length of each man up our bottoms.
ÒNow, cum,Ó I remember our hostess saying, when at last the two
men were accommodated to us, and we to them. Somehow my aunt and I
leaned close together, and kissed. Then both of us received a stunning
tribute of sperm up in our guts.
30
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