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Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
WANTON WINTER
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Chapter One
I sat at the window, watching the snow. The flakes were falling
steadily, big fat wet flakes that mounded on the branches of the trees and
along the windowsill. I wore a fuzzy pink sweater, pulled tight over my
growing breasts. I would need a new one soon. This one was really too
small for me now. But I liked the teddy bear sewn onto the front of it.
ÒChloe! YouÕll spoil your lunch,Ó my aunt scolded.
ÒIÕm going on a diet,Ó I replied, gazing out the window. I took
another long lick of the lollipop I was holding. It was pink, like my
sweater.
ÒChloe, you slept past breakfast, and now you donÕt want any lunch?Ó
my aunt asked.
ÒI told you, auntie. IÕm going on a diet,Ó I said. ÒI donÕt want to get
fat. IÕm going on a diet and IÕm going to eat only candy!Ó
My aunt walked over to where I lay snuggled on the daybed, by the
window. She took my fist in her hand. With her other hand she pulled on
my lollipop, grabbing it with her fingertips. Her nails were exquisitely
painted.
ÒChloe! Give it to me! I donÕt want you eating any more candy,Ó my
aunt declared.
I took another lick of my lollipop even as she tried to get it away
from me. At last she managed to yank it out of my hand, only to find it
was stuck to her fingers.
I rolled on the daybed, giggling and looking at her. She tried to get
unstuck by waving my lollipop around. In shaking her hand, she wound up
sticking my lollipop to the front of the green sweater she wore.
ÒChloe! Now look what youÕve done!Ó my aunt shouted. It was a new
sweater. I rolled on the bed, kicking up my bare feet and chortling with
glee. My long bare legs scissored in the air. I wore white panties. I had
slept in them, plus my teddy bear sweater. My hair was disheveled from
sleeping.
ÒYou are becoming nothing but a lazy teenager,Ó my aunt scolded.
ÒItÕs 11:30 in the morning and you still havenÕt gotten up and washed and
dressed yourself. And since when did I say you could just watch T.V. all
night, downstairs, and crash in this daybed, instead of going upstairs to
your bedroom and having a proper sleep?Ó
ÒOh, auntie!Ó I giggled. ÒWho cares? IÕm sure I will grow up just the
same, whether I sleep in my bedroom or down here in the living room.Ó
My aunt tugged at my lollipop, stuck to her sweater. ÒChloe, IÕm
responsible for you,Ó my aunt said, talking to me but looking at my
lollipop. ÒWhat flavor is this lollipop, anyway? ItÕs such a ghastly pink
color.Ó
ÒBubblegum!Ó I told her. ÒItÕs a bubblegum-flavored lollipop, with
real Tutti-Frutti gum in the middle.Ó It was a wide, flat lollipop, with a
slim central core, where the stick ended, that was made of gum.
ÒWell, you are going to eat lunch, dear child, not lollipops, and you
are going to sleep where you should. And now I want you to scoot that
lazy ass of yours upstairs to the tub, and wash yourself, and do your hair
too, and come down looking presentable in half an hour!Ó my aunt said. She
couldnÕt get my lollipop off her. So, pointing her finger at me, and
reaching across the daybed and grabbing me, she took charge of me, even
as my lollipop remained stuck to her sweater. I licked it, enjoying the
taste of it even though it was stuck to her.
ÒChloe! Come on!Ó my aunt scolded. At last she got me to stand up
beside the daybed, my feet on the floor, and taking me firmly by the hand,
she forced me to march upstairs to the bathroom.
When I came down for lunch a half hour later, my aunt was already
done eating. I smelled of bubble bath and shampoo. My teeth, despite my
candy diet, were sparkling white. My hair was well brushed. I wore a
light coat of lipstick.
ÒChloe, your lips are orange!Ó my aunt said, turning and looking at
me. ÒI told you not to eat any more candy!Ó
ÒI didnÕt, auntie,Ó I replied. ÒItÕs Lip SmackerÕs Lipstick!Ó I licked
my lips, tasting my lipstick. ÒMmmm!Ó I said. ÒOral Orange. ItÕs Bill
ClintonÕs favorite!Ó
My aunt sighed and said nothing. She was arranging flowers in a
vase. I sat down and began eating my sandwich. She asked me if I wanted
an eggnog to go with it.
ÒOkay,Ó I said. ÒBut put a straw in it. And not one of those grody
straight straws. Make it a bendy straw!Ó
ÒAlright, dear,Ó my aunt said. She was quite nice to me, really. She
made my eggnog for me and set it down by my place. I bent my straw and
then stuck it in my mouth. I sucked noisily at it with my orange-flavored
lips.
My aunt finished arranging the flowers in the vase and stood at the
kitchen window, her back to me, watching the snow fall. I gazed at her.
She had long brown hair, trailing down her back, rich and glossy. Her back
was erect, slim, with a flare of hips, and long legs. She stretched as she
stood at the window, lifting her arms above her head. On either side of
her slim back I could see the protruding curves of her ample bosom. She
was 19, soon to be twenty, with her own income. I really liked staying
with her. IÕd come to visit last summer, then finagled my parents into
letting me stay with her all fall. My parents thought IÕd spent the fall at
an exclusive French private school. In fact I was formally enrolled there,
by my aunt, who paid all the bills for my schooling. But really my aunt and
I had spent the fall touring the Middle East. My school, used to the jet-
setting ways of its wealthy students, indulged me. I got passing grades in
all my subjects, even though IÕd rarely attended classes.
Now it was winter break and time for me to go home. I looked at my
aunt and wondered if she were feeling lonely at the prospect of my
leaving.
ÒAuntie,Ó I said, my straw in my mouth, eggnog showing white on my
orange-painted lips.
ÒYes?Ó my aunt asked. She remained with her back to me, still
stretching.
ÒAre you sad that IÕll be leaving soon?Ó I said.
My aunt said nothing for a moment, but her stretch lessened, and at
last she put down her arms. She brushed back her hair with her hand. She
had a new sweater on now. It was violet in color.
My aunt turned around. She looked at me. She pouted, her lips
perfectly sheened with Revlon lipstick, her cheeks blushed with powder.
ÒI wish you did not have to leave,Ó she said.
ÒI could stay with you, if my parents will let me,Ó I said.
ÒOh, Chloe, I do so like having you around,Ó my aunt said. She sighed.
Her bust rose and fell with her sigh. ÒWithout you I am all alone,Ó she
said. ÒI could have a man live with me but it wouldnÕt be the same. You
know how men are. I like them quite well, but to have one with me all the
time...Ó she let her sentence trial away.
I big into my sandwich and chewed it. ÒHe would make you love only
him, and expect to live here for free and be the man of the house,Ó I said.
ÒYes,Ó my aunt sighed. She looked at me and told me not to speak
with food in my mouth. Then she said, ÒI have quite a lot of money, you
see. And he would begin to consider it his. He would tell me how to spend
it and, particularly, how to invest it. I had a boyfriend before, living here
with me, and he saw all my money and developed a taste for gambling.Ó
ÒDid he spend a lot of it?Ó I asked, forgetting not to blurt out words
when I had my mouth full.
ÒHe spent enough,Ó my aunt said. ÒAnd I had a dickens of a time
kicking him out.Ó She crossed her arms over her bosoms and looked down
at the floor. ÒPlus,Ó she said, quietly, after a moment: ÒPlus, when you
are here, I have to be a little more responsible. I have to look after you.
But when I am all alone, then I can do just whatever I please, and
sometimes that perhaps is not the best thing.Ó
I knew what she meant. My aunt, despite her soft nature, had an
adventurous spirit. Under that flawless smile and that mane of lustrous
hair, under that tawny young skin and that pampered appearance, she had a
yearning for the depraved. It worried me and, frankly, I think it worried
her too. With me in her life, she had to be careful. Not for herself, which
she was, perhaps, incapable of being, when it really mattered, but for me.
I was her lucky talisman. I was only 13. People respected my age. It
made them set limits; this farther, no more. But with me gone, she would
be utterly alone, an adult doing adult things, with no hindrance of
childhood to hold them back.
That night we spoke to my parents on the phone. They wanted me
home for Christmas, but I begged them to let me stay.
ÒOh, it would be too much of an imposition on Rebecca, dear,Ó my
mother protested. But my aunt assured them that I was quite welcome.
ÒReally, I could not think of having Christmas without her!Ó my aunt
told my mom and dad.
ÒWell, perhaps the two of you could come here,Ó my mother mused. I
looked at my aunt, horrified. The same expression showed on her face. We
wanted to have a little fun. Imagine having to be hanging around with my
parents all Christmas!
ÒKen Starr might come to speak at our congregationÕs Christmas Eve
Service,Ó my mother said hopefully.
ÒOh, I think Christmas in Paris would be so nice for Chloe,Ó my aunt
said. I sensed an imploring tone in her voice, verging on desperation. She
really didnÕt want to be left alone!
ÒPlease, mommie,Ó I said, reverting to my most childish form of
address in hopes of winning her over. ÒLet me stay just a little longer.Ó
ÒWell, alright, dear,Ó my mother said hesitantly, not sure if she
really meant it.
ÒOh! I think my turkeyÕs burning!Ó my aunt said.
I was about to say, stupidly, ÒWhat turkey?Ó but when she said
goodbye abruptly, and got up from the phone, I realized my aunt was
looking for a way to turn my motherÕs tentative ÔyesÕ into a definite one,
by ending our conversation.
ÒOh! AuntieÕs turkey!Ó I blurted. ÒBye, bye, mom! Thanks!Ó
I slammed down the phone.
ÒWhew!Ó my aunt said. Then she began laughing, her large bosoms
shaking, tossing back her hair and grinning at me. ÒImagine! Listening to
that awful Ken Starr at Christmas!Ó
ÒMy mom says I should marry someone like him when I grow up,Ó I
told her. ÒBut I donÕt like the fact that heÕs bald. And fat, too. IÕd rather
marry Bill Clinton, even if he did cheat on me.Ó
ÒBill will get you on Air Force One,Ó my aunt said. ÒThey have very
nice M & MÕs on Air Force One.Ó
ÒYummie!Ó I said.
The next day we were lying on the daybed together. It was made, we
were wearing skirts and blouses, looking out at the snowfall and feeling
bored.
My aunt turned to me and I thought she might kiss me, but instead,
putting her hand under her chin, her eyes bright, she said, ÒNow Chloe, you
know you may go home any time, even if we did get your parents to let you
stay.Ó
ÒYes, auntie,Ó I said. She put her arm around my waist. I had a
lollipop. It was blue, with gum in the center. I was slowly licking it down
to the gum, but I was on my third lollipop and getting rather sick of them.
They were awfully sweet.
My aunt patted my skirted fanny.
ÒDonÕt, auntie,Ó I said. But my words were not convincing, I thought,
being perhaps the resistance that serves only to invite. My aunt patted me
again, on my rump, and said:
ÒItÕs about time you got your bottom whacked, donÕt you think?Ó
ÒMmmm?Ó I asked, my eyes widening. What did she mean by that?
My aunt lifted my skirt. She palmed my trim panties. They were
white. They hugged my seat, like gift wrapping on a gift, tightly enclosed.
My ass cheeks bulged into my undies, round and plump, my cleft dividing
them neatly.
ÒA good, hard spanking, to make up for all the naughty things youÕve
been doing, like eating too many lollipops,Ó my aunt said.
I took a long lick of my lollipop and then said, quite confidently and
unafraid, ÒYou may spank me if you wish to, auntie.Ó Boldly I pressed my
bottom up into her palm.
ÒOh,Ó my aunt said. Her voice was contrite. She removed her hand
and laid it between us on the bed, guiltily. Then she used it to reach for
my lollipop. She surprised it by taking it from me and licking it with her
tongue. ÒI should not say such things,Ó my aunt apologized.
ÒI donÕt mind,Ó I said. My voice sounded sleepy, content. I reached
down. My skirt was still flipped up, showing my bottom. I yanked on my
panties and dragged them down off my fanny, baring my ass. ÒGo ahead,Ó I
teased my aunt. ÒSpank me if you wish!Ó
We lay like that for a few minutes, my skirt up, my panties pulled
down, my bottom feeling the cool air of the room upon it. As I lay bare-
bottomed on the day bed my aunt held my lollipop and shared it with me.
We both licked it. Outside, the snow was falling, certain to cool my
bottom if I needed it; I would only have to run outside, my bottom aflame,
and plunge myself into it to be soothed.
ÒI really do think I need a spanking, auntie,Ó I said at last, tempted
by the prospect of needing to run around bare-assed in her backyard, in the
snow, sticking my tushie into the newfallen drifts. Perhaps I would even
poop in them, like a dog. It was a dirty thought, but I found myself
mesmerized by it. Then I said, more definitely, ÒYes, I do think I very
much need a spanking, and IÕll spank myself if you wonÕt do it for me.Ó I
reached back. With my hand I slapped my behind.
ÒDonÕt!Ó my aunt cried. She reached back and grabbed my hand. ÒYour
bottom is so white and perfect. If it must be punished, then let it be by a
man. Not by me, or you either.Ó
I trembled. Already her mind was racing ahead, to types of
spankings much more thorough than what I, in my playful way, had
contemplated. Now I saw myself forced to squat in the snow, forced to
turn it yellow and to adorn it with my logs. It was a dirty thought,
painfully dirty, and I wriggled my hand free of hers and slapped myself
again.
ÒWe shall go shopping,Ó my aunt said. She clutched at my wrist and
restrained my hand. She lowered my skirt and pulled me up from the bed,
not minding about my panties, which still ringed my thighs. She fluffed
my hair, adjusted my barrettes. She ran a finger across my lips,
smoothing a smear in my orange lipstick. ÒGet your coat,Ó my aunt said.
ÒAnd your boots. We shall go downtown and find ourselves a man.Ó
ÒFor me as well as you?Ó I asked. My eyes were wide. I wished to
reach down and pull up my panties but she caught at my hands and
restrained them. Then, with a smile, she lifted my skirt and pulled my
panties down. She drew them all the way down my legs. I stood for a
moment, a finger in my mouth, contemplating them. They lay limp at my
ankles. I moved my feet apart and the fabric stretched. I stepped out of
them.
ÒHave you ever gone shopping without panties on?Ó my aunt asked
me. There was mischief in her eyes.
ÒIt will be rather cold, wonÕt it?Ó I asked matter-of-factly.
My aunt laughed. ÒWell, we are looking for someone to warm us up,
arenÕt we?Ó
ÒHe must be very handsome, auntie,Ó I said. ÒAnd I really would like
to wear my panties.Ó
My aunt bent down and picked up my panties off the floor. She
smoothed them with her fingertips, like a mother picking up expensive
Christmas wrapping, perhaps to save it for next year.
ÒWe shall tempt him with these,Ó my aunt said. ÒOne must be
discreet in such matters, especially in public.Ó
ÒBut remember, auntie,Ó I said. ÒHe must be very, very handsome.
Otherwise IÕd rather spank my bottom myself.Ó
ÒOf course, dear,Ó my aunt said. She took my hand. She held my
panties in one hand and drew me across the room with the other. Then she
got her purse, out of the hall closet, and put my panties in it. After that
she got my boots out. ÒPut them on, Chloe,Ó my aunt said.
ÒYes, auntie,Ó I replied.
The department stores were playing Christmas music. The crowds
were light. Christmas was still three weeks away. But everyone had a
merry demeanor. We drifted through the aisles of the stores, browsing.
ÒAuntie,Ó I said, all too conscious of the fact that I was secretly
without panties under my coat and skirt. I tugged on her hand. She turned
from a display of mufflers, through which she was looking at and sizing up
a man, without him knowing.
ÒYes?Ó my aunt asked.
ÒI feel quite silly shopping for a man to spank us,Ó I whispered.
ÒSo do I, dear,Ó my aunt said. Then, just as quickly, she added:
ÒWhat do you think of that one, over there?Ó I peeked through the display
of mufflers at him. ÒDo you think heÕs handsome enough?Ó my aunt asked.
He was dressed in an expensive overcoat and suit, with slicked-back hair
that was jet black, and shiny black shoes. He had a mustache.
ÒNo,Ó I said, but my voice was hesitant, unsure.
ÒDo not say ÔnoÕ just for the sake of saying Ôno,Õ Chloe,Ó my aunt said.
ÒI think heÕs quite nice. Look how large his hands are, well-formed and
firm. They say if a man has big hands he has other parts of himself that
are big too.Ó
ÒHe has big shoulders,Ó I said.
ÒYes, he does,Ó my aunt said admiringly. He turned. Although he
wore an overcoat, you could tell by how it hung on him, tapering as it fell
from his shoulders, that he was trim and athletic in shape. ÒI think he is a
fine specimen,Ó my aunt said. ÒLet us go over and introduce ourselves.Ó
ÒWhat do we say?Ó I asked. ÒHello, we need a spanking?Ó
ÒLet me handle it, dear,Ó my aunt said.
A few minutes later we were talking with the man. He spoke
politely, showing good breeding. I guessed he was the product of a well-
to-do family.
ÒShe is fun to have along, but she can be such trouble sometimes,Ó
my aunt told the man. They were discussing me, good-naturedly, as I
slipped away from them and looked at jewels in a jewelry counter. They
sparkled at me. They were expensive jewels. One was orange, like the Lip
Smackers lipstick I wore.
ÒI can imagine,Ó I heard the man say. ÒOnly 13? She is too young to
go out on her own in the world, yet too old to be managed like a child.Ó
ÒYes, it is a difficult period,Ó my aunt sighed. ÒEspecially since,
well,Ó she blushed, authentically, I thought, seeing her reflection in the
jewelry counterÕs glassed surface. ÒWell, one canÕt exactly put her over
oneÕs knee, can one?Ó
ÒNo,Ó the man agreed. ÒAnd yet,Ó he said, lifting a hand and stroking
his mustache. ÒReally, when you think about it, thatÕs the age when such a
thing is most needed. ThatÕs when children begin to really get difficult,
you know. A sound spanking would be just the right thing for them, if it
could be given.Ó
My aunt sighed. She opened her purse. She looked within it, as if to
find lipstick or a compact.
ÒThe real problem,Ó my aunt said. ÒIs that itÕs just me. A woman.
You know? She could use the influence of a man, if only occasionally. It
would help her, I think. To be a better behaved young lady.Ó My aunt
looked up from her purse. Her eyes were frank.
ÒYes,Ó the gentleman said. He arched one of his eyebrows.
ÒAnd as for myself,Ó my aunt said. ÒI sometimes wish I had a man
too, for the same reason. Look at me! I hardly want for anything, and yet
here I am again, shopping and spending my money.Ó
ÒAre you...Ó the man paused. He stroked his mustache again. Then,
folding his arms behind his back, looking at me and then again at my aunt,
he asked. ÒAre you currently seeing anyone?Ó
ÒNo,Ó my aunt said. ÒI donÕt really want a boyfriend. They can be
such a bother. But a man with a firm hand, sometimes I think thatÕs what
I could use, provided he was wealthy like me and knew how to handle a
girl.Ó She looked at him. ÒYou know, a friend. Nothing serious. Just a
friend to teach Chloe her manners, and to guide me a little.Ó
ÒYes,Ó the man said. He smiled. My aunt took his hand and drew it to
her purse. She put his hand into her purse and he looked rather alarmed,
wondering, I suppose, what she was doing. Then his fingertips must have
touched the silk of my panties for his smile returned, broadened. With
deft fingers he drew my panties out of my auntÕs purse and slipped them
into a pocket of his overcoat.
ÒShe insisted on not wearing them,Ó my aunt told the man. ÒCan you
belive that?Ó
The man patted his coat, over the pocket where my panties now lay.
Looking at me, then at my aunt, he asked,
ÒWhen would be the most convenient time for you to bring her by? I
live in town here.Ó He told her the address. ÒYou could come by in the
afternoon. There would be no need to spend the night.Ó
ÒI am not really looking for a boyfriend, you understand,Ó my aunt
said. ÒIt would not be that sort of thing.Ó
ÒOf course,Ó the man said.
I wandered over to where they were standing. ÒAuntie,Ó I said. My
voice was high, shrill. I didnÕt intend for it to be, but it was. ÒI want to
buy a ring! An orange one, to match my lipstick.Ó
ÒNo, Chloe,Ó my aunt said. ÒDidnÕt you see those prices?Ó
ÒIt is no trouble,Ó the man said. He stepped toward me. ÒTell me
which one you want, child.Ó
ÒI want the orange one,Ó I said. ÒTo match my lipstick.Ó
ÒChloe! DonÕt be asking men to buy you things,Ó my aunt scolded. But
already the man had out his wallet, and was gesturing to the clerk. ÒThere
is no need,Ó my aunt protested.
ÒYou gave me a gift,Ó the man said, patting his pocket where my
panties lay hidden.
My aunt relented. The man bought me the ring. It cost a lot. He
slipped it on my finger and I looked at it admiringly. Finally, beaming up
at him, I smiled and said, ÒItÕs so pretty! It matches my lipstick, see?Ó I
held my new ring close to my face.
ÒPerhaps I should buy you a red one also,Ó the man said.
ÒI donÕt have anything on me thatÕs red,Ó I said.
ÒOne ring is enough,Ó my aunt said.
My panties were laid out on my bed. They were made of leather. My
aunt had bought them for me at a boutique. She had done it while I was out
back, sledding, my thoughts at that time as innocent as the white snow IÕd
played in.
I took off my scarf and mittens, having come inside and run upstairs
to see the outfit sheÕd purchased. Tentatively I picked up the panties off
my bed and examined them. They had string ties, made of the same leather
as the panties themselves.
ÒTheyÕre rather little,Ó I said. My aunt stood in the door to my
bedroom, having come upstairs after me to see if I liked what sheÕd
bought. ÒAnd they have a hole in the middle of them!Ó I said.
ÒIt zips closed,Ó my aunt said.
ÒYou want me to visit him wearing these?Ó I asked.
ÒYes,Ó my aunt said. ÒHe specifically requested that you wear
leather panties.Ó
ÒSo he will see me in them?Ó I asked. I had hoped to be clad in a
skirt or jeans when we visited. My aunt laughed.
ÒChloe, darling, why do you think he bought you that ring?Ó my aunt
asked.
ÒTo match my lipstick,Ó I said. My voice was artless. Did I know, or
didnÕt I? I pulled at the drawstrings of my leather panties, looking
through the wide hole that was where a gusset should have been. ÒHe will
see my pussy if this isnÕt zipped up,Ó I said.
ÒTake your bath. YouÕre sweaty from being in the snow, even if its
cold outside,Ó my aunt said. ÒMake yourself up and do your hair. Then
dress, and we will go. It is only an afternoon visit. We wonÕt be staying
for dinner.Ó
ÒDid he invite us?Ó I asked.
ÒI did not ask him to,Ó my aunt said. ÒI only asked that we earn
forgiveness for our naughty ways.Ó
I gulped. I turned and looked at my aunt. She stood in the door to my
room, her hands behind her. Her hips swayed. I saw she had both her
palms on her bottom, pressed to it, as if to protect it. ÒDo you really
think we need a man to spank us?Ó I asked.
ÒThat is just what we need,Ó my aunt replied. ÒJust that, and no
more. A quick spank, well delivered, without love or affection, in the
middle of the afternoon.Ó
ÒI donÕt love him,Ó I told her frankly. ÒHeÕs handsome, but heÕs so
much bigger than me.Ó
ÒNor does he love us,Ó my aunt said. ÒAlthough IÕm sure heÕs
physically attracted to us. He told me he has a wife. WeÕll be visiting him
while sheÕs out shopping. We cannot stay long.Ó
ÒOooh, a married man,Ó I said. Instantly my interest in him
heightened. ÒDoes he have any kids?Ó
ÒHe has a daughter. SheÕs about your age,Ó my aunt replied.
ÒHow do you know so much about him?Ó I asked.
My aunt laughed. ÒI was talking to him, silly, while you were busy
spending the franks he gave you on cotton candy.Ó
ÒIt was good cotton candy,Ó I said. ÒExcept I got some on my ring.Ó
ÒTake your bath,Ó my aunt said. ÒI donÕt want for us to be late. We
wonÕt have much time to spend with him as it is.Ó
ÒOkay,Ó I answered.
I lingered in the bath. Purposefully, I knew. At last my aunt came
into the bathroom and made me stand up.
ÒHave you washed?Ó she asked me, as I stood before her, dripping,
my nude skin glistening. Bubblebath was caked on my breasts, around my
nipples, like foam rings, accenting them. The foam had congealed around
me as I lay in the tub, my breasts poking up through the surface of the
water. There was foam too above and below my knees, where they had
jutted through the water.
ÒYes, auntie,Ó I said.
ÒThen get out,Ó Rebecca said. She drew me from the tub. She took a
towel and, without asking my permission, for we were obviously late,
towelled me down roughly and quickly. My nipples sparked under her
hands, tingling, growing to stiff points. The towel between my legs made
me shiver.
ÒAuntie, I do not wish to be spanked,Ó I said, honestly, as my aunt
took my hand and led me naked from the bathroom into my bedroom.
ÒNor do I,Ó Rebecca replied.
ÒThen why?Ó I asked. I looked again at the clothes laid out for me
for our visit. Panties, seductively made of leather, with the big wide hole
in them that would have to be zipped closed if my pussy were not to be
showing.
ÒIt is not the spanking we are seeking,Ó my aunt said. She picked up
my panties off the bed and handed them to me. Gingerly, I put them around
myself. Quickly she tied off the leather laces along the sides, securing my
panties to my hips. ÒIt is the daring, the teasing,Ó my aunt told me. ÒIs it
not fun to find a big man, and to show off to him and to tempt him?Ó
ÒI suppose so,Ó I replied, not at all sure. Carefully my aunt slipped
her hand into the front of my panties. Then she drew the zipper, at the
back of my crotch, forward. Her hand kept my pubic hair from being caught
in the zipper. The fit was tight. When at last the zipper was closed my
pussy lips were safely secure inside my leather undies.
My bottom, however, was another matter. The panties rode low on
my behind. I reached back and tugged them up; they barely budged.
ÒAuntie! Half my bottom is showing!Ó I said in an alarmed voice. I
looked behind me, into a mirror. There I stood with my golden hair hanging
down my back, covering me, but too short to reach the bareness of my ass.
It stuck out impudently, the cheeks wedged into a pair of panties far too
small to cover them properly. I was a walking advertisement for a
whipping. One look at my ass sticking sassily up out of these panties
would inspire even the best disposed of men to put me over his knee. And
we were not visiting the best disposed of men.
ÒDo you not think I will be equally sexy?Ó my aunt asked me. ÒYou
are dressed appropriately for the occasion, dear. Put on your bra. Then pin
up your hair, so he may admire the length of your back.Ó
ÒOh, auntie!Ó I said. ÒThe thought of teasing him like this is making
me wet my panties!Ó
ÒIt is merely the heat of the leather stretched tight against you,Ó
my aunt said. But I think she knew it was not. I could feel my pussy
moistening, rapidly, making me all dewy where I wished to remain dry and
chaste. ÒNow put on your bra,Ó my aunt said.
She stood watching me. She was dressed in cuffed shorts and a t-
shirt. Her hair was in pigtails.
ÒOh, auntie, are you going like that?Ó I asked Rebecca.
ÒOf course not, dear,Ó my aunt replied. She watched as I picked up a
leather bra off my bed and slipped it on. It had to be tied in back; I could
not get the ties knotted and my aunt turned me around and did it for me.
As she closed the ties, I looked down at myself. The cups of my bra stood
open, letting my breasts jut through them.
ÒWhat good is this?Ó I asked plaintively. ÒMy tits are sticking right
through my bra. He will see my boobs, even my nipples!Ó
ÒThere is a zipper on the underside of each of the cups,Ó my aunt
answered. When she finished tying me off in back she turned me around.
She smiled and reached under my right breast. She tugged on a zipper
placed there. She drew it up over the point of my breast.
ÒOh, do not let my nipple get caught in the zipper!Ó I pleaded. I
watched as, slowly and carefully, my aunt tugged the zipper up past my
nipple. When she had gotten one of my cups closed, she turned to my other
tit. Again I watched as my pointed, pink teat almost found itself caught
within the gripping closure of the zipper. When both my cups were closed
I noticed that there was a soft lining along the underside of each of the
closed zippers. Had there not been, I would have been rubbed by the metal
teeth whenever I moved, their hard metal chafing my tender tits.
I sighed. I felt my breasts move, rising and falling, caught all the
while within the close fitting cups of my bra. They were small cups,
letting a good part of my breasts bulge out and around them. Even the
underside of my breasts could be seen, bare and white, the cups fitted
over the nippled part of my breasts but doing a poor job of covering the
rest of my bosom.
ÒI am making as much of a display of myself as anything,Ó I said,
looking down at my teensy bra.
ÒIs it not the duty of a female to play with a manÕs mind?Ó my aunt
asked. ÒYou show, yet you are covered, in your most intimate and
essential places. You tease and yet you manage to stay concealed. He will
be in awe of you.Ó
ÒHe will spank me for dressing so naughtily,Ó I said frankly.
ÒEspecially if he has a daughter my own age!Ó
ÒAnd now the gloves,Ó my aunt said. She picked up a long leather
sleeve off the bed. It ended in a limp hand, five fingers made of leather;
at its other end it had leather ties so that it could be bound to my arm at
the elbow.
ÒAuntie, this is ridiculous,Ó I protested, looking at the gloves.
ÒPanties that donÕt fit, a bra thatÕs too small, but opera-length gloves,
that cover me up all the way to my elbows?Ó
ÒOf course, dear,Ó my aunt said. She made me slip my hand into the
glove. She pulled it up my arm. It was a snug fit. I wriggled my fingers
into the hollow leather digits at the end of the glove. She tied the glove
off at my elbow. Then she put on my other glove. When she was done I
was encased in leather all the way down my arms, to the very ends of my
fingers. I patted my bare belly with a gloved hand. I stuck a gloved
fingertip in my navel.
ÒI am naked where I should be clothed, and clothed where I should be
naked!Ó I said, looking at my well-clad fingers, pressed against my bare
belly.
ÒAnd now stockings,Ó my aunt said.
ÒOh, auntie!Ó I cried. She picked up a pair of fishnet stockings. I
looked at her in her casual clothes. Her legs were bare, but mine were to
be stockinged. Her arms were without gloves. She wore shorts that
covered her properly. Her midriff was clad neatly in a t-shirt. ÒPromise
me youÕre going to dress as ridiculously as me!Ó I insisted.
ÒOf course, dear,Ó my aunt said. She sat me down on the edge of my
bed. She made me lift my right leg and point my toes. Then she slipped a
stocking up my bare leg. It hugged me. It was made of lace, in a cross-
hatched pattern. I looked like one of my legs had been caught in a net
when the stocking was pulled all the way up to my thigh.
After both my legs were clad in tight thigh-high stockings, my aunt
walked to my closet. I was wondering how my sneakers would look, with
me wearing such stockings, when I looked up and saw her holding a pair of
boots. I had not seen them before. They were made of leather. They were
black. They were slickly polished, brand new.
ÒDo not scuff them,Ó my aunt said, walking over to me. ÒStep
carefully in them when we get in and out of the cab, so that you arrive
with them looking as nice as they do now.Ó She dropped the boots down in
front of me. I perched on the edge of my bed, looking at them. She knelt to
put them on me.
ÒAuntie, how can I walk in them?Ó I asked. ÒLook at those heels!Ó
They were four inches high, at least.
ÒHold onto my arm when you walk,Ó my aunt replied. She lifted one
of my stockinged feet and slipped it into the snug boot leather. I felt the
long sleeve of the boot slide up over my foot, up my calf, up over my knee,
finally stopping when half my thigh had disappeared into it. A portion of
my stocking showed above it.
ÒCouldnÕt they at least cover up these weird net-like stockings IÕm
wearing?Ó I asked, wriggling my foot in the boot and finding it tight.
ÒNo,Ó my aunt said. ÒYou must show a little of your stockings. They
are too sexy to cover completely.Ó She put on my other boot. As she did, I
saw a shadow in the doorway to my room. I stared at it with big, round
eyes. Who could be in our house, seeing me dressed like this?
A redhead poked her face into my doorway, smiling brightly.
ÒHelene!Ó I cried. My aunt turned her head and looked at her over her
shoulder.
ÒOh, thanks for coming,Ó my aunt said. ÒShe is having her first
formal spanking today. By a man. I want her to look her very best.Ó
ÒArenÕt you going?!Ó I shouted, as my aunt imprisoned my other leg
in a long boot.
ÒOf course IÕm going, dear,Ó my aunt said. She laughed. ÒAnd coming
too, at the thought of how sweet you look!Ó She made me stand up in my
new boots. I wobbled. She held my hand. My breasts threatened to pop
from my bra when I took a step in my boots. The long spikes elevated my
heels, making my breasts shiver, making my bottom sway and wriggle
salaciously.
ÒShe might have a little cape,Ó Helene said.
ÒHuh?Ó my aunt asked.
Helene was holding a package. She unwrapped it. Inside was a small
folded piece of black cloth. She unfurled it. ÒI bought it for her,Ó Helene
said. ÒIt will make her look even more cosseted than she already does.Ó
My aunt and Helene pinned up my hair. Then they tied HeleneÕs cape
around my neck. I looked at myself in the mirror. I liked the pretty black
bow the cape made, tied at the front of my throat. In back, the cape fell to
my shoulder blades. It was a mere decoration. It did little to cover me. I
tried pulling it closed in front. I could not. It was too short to be pulled
over my breasts. I twisted my hips, and watched the cape swirl. It was
fun. I liked it. The women complimented my appearance.
ÒHe will sperm in his pants when he sees you, and have no strength
left to give you a paddling,Ó Helene assured me.
They led me downstairs. My aunt turned on Nintendo and helped me
sit down on the floor, in my long boots, caped and gloved and stockinged,
my ass straining the ties of my panties and my bra cups nearly losing
their hold on my boobs.
ÒI must dress now,Ó Rebecca told me. ÒHelene will help me. Be good
and donÕt move a muscle. Just play here, with your video games.Ó
I watched as Dig Dug began moving across the T.V. I saw a monster
coming and quickly inserted Dig DugÕs tool into him and began inflating
him.
ÒBut I really donÕt want to be spanked!Ó I told my aunt and Helene,
quickly pumping the monster on the T.V. up to the bursting point.
ÒIt is necessary, dear,Ó my aunt said. Then she walked away, leaving
me in front of the T.V., monsters crowding around my little Dig Dug and me
feeling confused, yet wet at the same time, thinking of the man who would
see me this way.
My aunt reappeared a half hour later. She looked utterly elegant. Her
hair was dressed, every strand pinned up with care and glossy from lavish
attention. Her face was made up like an Egyptian princess. She batted her
eyelashes at me; they were long and silky, dripping with mascara. Her lips
glowed with expensive gloss. Her slender throat was clad in a jewelled
collar. A dog might have worn it, were it not bejeweled with diamonds.
Rocks of a similar water flashed under her ears. I wondered if the man
might not simply kill us, in order to possess my auntÕs diamonds.
In sharp contrast to her face, where every inch of her was painted
and primped, my auntÕs body was casually left unadorned. She wore a long
dress. It was black, but left open in front, so that the whiteness of her
skin could be seen. I saw her bosoms, the inner curves of them, unclothed
and wobbling freely. I saw the bare skin of her flat belly, all the way
down to her navel. There, under her belly button, my auntÕs dress
reluctantly closed. Had it not, had it remained open just a bit farther, her
pubic hair would have showed; for I later learned that my aunt wore no
panties.
Where the dress passed over my auntÕs bosom tips, I could easily see
the points of her nipples. They were excited, standing up, and no wonder!
Imagine being dressed in a formal gown, one that stretched to oneÕs knees,
but that was left open in front, showing oneÕs belly and the inner curves of
oneÕs breasts! My aunt sleeked her hands down the sides of her dress. It
was tight; it hugged her like an hourglass, showing her every curve.
Artfully the dress was tied in front, at her throat. One tug on the small
bow holding the dress closed at her throat would undo her. The dress
would open wide in front and slip off her slim shoulders, leaving her
naked.
I looked at my auntÕs feet. She wore shiny black open-toed pumps.
They had high heels. She tottered in them. Helene held her steady; she
smiled quickly at the woman and recovered her balance. My eyes travelled
up my auntÕs legs to where her dress met her knees. She wore expensive
stockings. They were black hose, exceptionally thin. I had little doubt
that the slightest mishandling would put a run in them.
ÒAre you ready?Ó Rebecca asked me.
ÒIÕm winning at Dig Dug,Ó I told her. ÒI have 100 and five thousand
points.Ó
ÒA birch rod has many points too,Ó Helene laughed. ÒGet up, silly.
You can play Dig Dug another time.Ó
ÒAre you coming also?Ó I asked Helene. She had changed into a black
gown. It was open down the front, like my auntÕs, though not as daringly.
It had a high collar around the sides of her neck and in the back, making
her look stiff and formal. But her collar did not close over the front of her
throat. There I saw a pearl choker. It gleamed, whitely. It fitted her neck
like a collar.
ÒI am coming to supervise,Ó Helene said. ÒHe is a stranger to us and
someone must ensure that he obeys the rules.Ó
ÒThere are rules?Ó I asked.
ÒThere are always rules,Ó my aunt said. ÒStand up, dear. We are
quite late and he will be upset with us.Ó
I stood. I felt full in my belly. ÒI have to go to the bathroom,Ó I
said.
ÒThen go,Ó my aunt said.
ÒUntie my gloves,Ó I said. I held out my arms.
ÒJust go and pee,Ó Helene said. ÒYou do not need to remove your
gloves to do it. Unzip your pantiesÕ crotch and pull yourself open. Pee
carefully, and wipe with discretion, and you will not need to wash your
hands afterward.Ó
I obeyed. It was strange, sitting on the potty all gloved and
stockinged, in my boots, my panties unzipped and holding myself apart like
that, with gloved fingers. When I was done I looked at myself in the
mirror. I turned around. I looked at my bottom. How white it was, half-
jammed in my black leather panties, the upper halves of both my cheeks
showing nakedly, my undies too small to hold them. Above my cheeks my
tanned back showed. I looked at my cape, covering just the highest part of
my back, leaving all else bare, right down to my half-pantied bottom. The
string of my bra across my back looked like a helpless thread of spaghetti,
doomed to break.
30
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