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Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
WANTON WINTER
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Chapter Five
It was, of course, quite a ridiculous position to have put myself in.
Perhaps thatÕs why I liked hanging with my aunt. I could always blame her
afterward. She was, after all, in charge of me.
With a final kiss on my auntÕs mouth I drew my lips off hers. I
reached down and jangled the bell hanging from her cuntlips.
ÒWe are cows, auntie. Cows with cow bells,Ó I said.
ÒYou are a little calf, in need of a branding,Ó Helene said over my
shoulder. I turned and looked at her.
ÒThey have brands here?Ó I asked, wide-eyed.
ÒPerhaps,Ó Helene said. She turned to the men. They were lounging
contentedly, save for a distinct, and no doubt discomforting, bulge in the
crotch of each of their trousers. She looked at our host and asked, ÒThe
girl, number three, she wishes to know if you have the tools to give her a
brand.Ó
ÒNo! I was just asking,Ó I said. My bells tinkled upon me with
nervousness.
ÒI have any implement she desires,Ó our host replied.
I shivered.
ÒI do not want a brand,Ó I said. But I wondered if I was only saying
it to provoke them to give it to me.
My aunt stepped alongside me and put her arm around my waist. She
kissed my head, browsing her mouth in my long hair, tonguing the
individual strands of my locks.
ÒI must whip you now, sillikins,Ó my aunt said.
ÒLet me pick what it is to be then,Ó I said. I felt soft, loved, pliant.
My aunts sharp-nailed hands roamed over my belly. She caressed my bare
skin. She poked a finger in my navel and said, ÒWe should have you pierced
there.Ó It was, I think, merely a loving whisper, spoken in the heat of
arousal. She herself had never been pierced. Surely she would not do to
me what she hadnÕt tried herself!
ÒLet me pick,Ó I said again, and turned my head and regarded the
array of implements hanging upon the far wall.
ÒOur host has already picked,Ó my aunt told me. ÒIt is to be the
birch. Soaked in brine, to make it sting more vividly upon your little ass.Ó
ÒWe were only to be spanked,Ó I protested, my voice muted, enjoying
the loving touch of my auntÕs fingers even as she threatened to give me
pain. ÒTogether,Ó I added.
ÒThings change... develop,Ó my aunt whispered. She pushed aside my
hair and kissed my ear.
ÒHe was supposed to do it,Ó I said. I pointed to our host. ÒTo us
both.Ó My aunt fondled the bell hanging between my legs.
ÒDo not protest. We must float with things as they happen. It is
love, not a business,Ó my aunt said.
ÒThen float and let me pick,Ó I said.
Helene kissed my forehead, even as my aunt continued to coax me
with caressing fingertips. Together they slipped hands between my legs
and opened the lips of my cunt. I felt intruded upon.
ÒIs she being difficult?Ó Helene asked.
ÒShe wishes to choose,Ó my aunt said.
ÒTo choose who will whip her?Ó Helene asked.
ÒNo...Ó my aunt said. But the thought of picking a man to spank me
sent thrills up my spine.
ÒOooch! Let me do that,Ó I said. I twisted upon the fingers of Helene
and my aunt, prying open my cuntlips.
ÒShe wishes to pick her poison,Ó Helene said, turning her head and
looking at our host, while still opening me up with her hand.
ÒAh! I dooooo,Ó I agreed, wriggling on the fingers in my twat.
ÒThen pick,Ó our host said. ÒYou are only 13, three. Pick a man and
pick your choice of implements. But then you must cease resisting and let
yourself be tested by them. It is a test, you know. See how well you can
endure a manÕs discipline.Ó
Helene nodded. ÒYou will be more confident in the presence of men
after its over,Ó she said.
ÒAlright,Ó I agreed. They removed their fingers from me.
Awkwardly I recovered a sense of myself, unviolated by their fingers. I
looked at Helene, then at my aunt.
ÒWish me luck, auntie,Ó I said.
ÒOh, Chloe!Ó my aunt cried. She would have kissed me again, but
Helene stepped quickly between us.
Bare-skinned, lewdly adorned with bells on my nipples and between
my legs, with a bell even hanging out of my ass, I nonetheless approached
the men with a self-assured air. I tossed back my hair. It swished upon
my back, gold and shining in the torch light. I looked at the men. They
looked at me. I put my hands on my hips, like a drill sergeant, and said,
ÒYou must pull out your penises first. I only want a man with a big dick to
spank me.Ó Then I giggled and added, ÒNo weinies.Ó
The men unzipped. I do not know why they had not undone
themselves earlier. Perhaps they were waiting for someone to go first, or
for Helene to suggest it. Nonetheless, now that I myself had required
them to do it, they sighed with relief and presented themselves to me. I
looked at them. It was like staring at long-stemmed mushrooms. Each
was bedewed at its crown with pre-cum, glistening in the torch light like
fresh morning dew.
ÒWell, well, well,Ó I said, my confidence growing with every second.
I was delighted at having so many men under my command. Perhaps a
littler girl would have been scared, but I found them still to be gentlemen,
despite exposing themselves, and I walked among them. I walked with
light footsteps, almost tip-toeing, and my eyes gazed at them with a fever
of curiosity. I reached out and touched one. He wiggled. His hips
remained still but his dick wiggled back and forth like a tuning fork. I
touched another manÕs dick. It was exciting. All of them were so hard! ÒI
wish I had a ruler, so I could measure every one of you, and pick the
biggest,Ó I confessed. They were all amply endowed, but I wanted the one
who was biggest of all for me!
ÒDo you want to be fucked, or do you want to be whipped?Ó the dark
eyed man asked. I turned and looked at him.
ÒWhat do you mean?Ó I asked.
ÒI never fuck a girl that I whip,Ó he said. ÒIt is meant to be
debasing. The whipping, I mean. ThatÕs how I see it. So if you pick me, be
warned, I might fuck the other two females, but not you.Ó
I looked at our host. He nodded.
ÒI cannot force him to fuck you,Ó he said. ÒOnly to fuck, to empty
himself, in someone. It is up to him who he chooses to put his penis into.Ó
I looked again at the man with the dark eyes. My hips wriggled. I
sighed.
ÒNow you have challenged me,Ó I confessed.
ÒGood,Ó he said. ÒNow we will see if you are merely a slut, wishing
to be stuffed full of cock. Or are you are a girl hoping to be more mature,
more confident?Ó
ÒBy being whipped?Ó I gasped.
ÒYes,Ó he said. His eyes drilled into mine. ÒIn Iran the pious flog
themselves, to make themselves more holy.Ó
ÒI- I do not wish to be a slut,Ó I said, my voice faltering. His eyes
were mesmerizing. I felt myself falling into a kind of sensual trance.
He stood. I did not have to ask him to take me, he simply stood up
and assumed an air of command. The other men did not argue with him.
They let him walk forward and seize my arm. I screamed. He held me
tightly and turned me about so that I faced the wall of flagellatory
equipment.
ÒPick,Ó he said, his voice low and deep. I looked up at him. His dark
eyes stared down at me.
ÒWh- what is your name?Ó I asked him.
ÒMy name?Ó he laughed. ÒIt is not important. Not to you.Ó He
reflected a moment. I watched the torch light flickering in his eyes. Then
he said, ÒYou may call me Stephen, if you wish.Ó
ÒStephen?Ó I asked. ÒIs- Is that your real name?Ó My bells tinkled
on my body with my apprehension.
ÒOf course not,Ó he said. ÒIt is the name of a character in a book. A
book called the Story of O.Ó He reached behind me and patted my bottom.
ÒStephen always made sure that O had a well-spanked bottom,Ó he said.
Oh, how his hand felt upon me! How lightly and carefully he touched
me. He gave me a brisk rub after patting me, and I felt callouses upon his
hand. His fingers were thick, hard. Yet he touched his hand to me with a
gentleness that belied what he planned to do to me.
ÒPick,Ó he said. ÒGo to the wall and pick what I shall use.Ó
ÒJust... your hand,Ó I said. He had lifted his hand off me and I jutted
my bottom back, seeking it.
ÒNo,Ó he said. ÒI do not give hand spankings. Not to a girl who is 13.
Perhaps to a girl of 8 or 9, but a girl of 13 deserves more. Go and pick
what I shall use, and remember, since you are not a slut, I will not fuck
you. I will only discipline you.Ó
I gulped. How many boys, how many men, had begged me to let them
have me? I had always been pretty. I had always been coveted. Yet here
was this guy, whom I openly loved, and he was refusing me? I couldnÕt
believe it. And yet something about his refusal fueled my desire for him.
I was not offended. Far from it. I wanted to prove to him that I was
worthy of his love. Prying my arm loose from his hand, agreeing to play by
his rules, hoping to win by them, I walked to the wall. I gazed up at the
array of floggers. I could feel his eyes on my bottom. All the men stared
at my fanny, admiring the twin spheres of white flesh, soon to be red and
burning!
ÒHmmm,Ó I said. I wiggled my ass. I put my finger in my mouth and
gazed at the equipment. My aunt stepped up beside me and put a hand on
my bottom, but I twisted away from her. I did not want to let her block
the menÕs view. I loved being the center of attention. All eyes were on
me. On my butt! It was thrilling to be so admired. If I could have chosen
to, I would have stood there forever, staring up at the wall, letting them
stare at me, never ending, always being one step away from doom, forever
coveted, never touched.
I do not know how many minutes I stood there, but the men indulged
me. They watched my bottomcheeks flex apprehensively as I tried to make
up my mind. Of course I didnÕt really want to make up my mind, that would
have ended such a special moment. So I sucked on my finger, and wiggled
my ass from time to time, and just stared, sighing now and then, until at
last Stephen, as he wished to be called, came up behind me and patted my
fanny.
I jumped. I let out a shout. It was just a light pat, like you might
give to a beloved pet, but it startled me. I turned and cringed and looked
back at him.
ÒYou must pick now, Chloe,Ó he said.
ÒYou- You know my name,Ó I stammered.
ÒYes,Ó he said. He gestured toward our host. ÒHe told me,Ó he said.
ÒWould you like me to call you by your real name?Ó he asked.
ÒI- I think so,Ó I said.
ÒPick that black leather paddle, Chloe,Ó he said. ÒI like the sound it
makes when it strikes a girlÕs ass.Ó
ÒY- Yes,Ó I said. I had to stand on tip-toe to reach for it. He
caressed my butt as I reached up. I could not quite get it. His hand
reached out and lifted it off its peg and put it into my fingers. I gasped,
holding its stiff handle in my hand. It was heavy. It would make a loud
splat when it hit my bottom.Ó
ÒNow come,Ó Stephen said. He pulled on my hair.
ÒWait!Ó I cried. I did not want this moment to end. I gazed at the
equipment and reached for a cane.
ÒWhat? You want more than one?Ó Stephen asked.
I nodded, said nothing. The cane was long and whippy. I felt its
slender length in my hand. Then I put the cane into the hand that held the
paddle, gripping them both awkwardly in the same hand, and reached for
another item. It was a martinet. It had cords that were stiff, from being
wet over a prolonged period, which made the leather, when it dried,
tighten until it felt as hard and inflexible as steel.
(I did not know the particulars of how the martinet was made at the
time, only liking its firmness, but later, after feeling it upon me, I
troubled myself to find out how it could inflict so severe a bite.)
ÒYou will have a bruised bottom if you pick all of those,Ó Helene
warned. She came up beside me. Like my aunt, who had tried to shield my
ass from the menÕs eyes, Helene tried to protect me. She grabbed hold of
the martinet. She tried to take it from me and hang it back on the wall.
ÒNo,Ó I insisted. I kept hold of the martinet.
ÒChloe!Ó my aunt hissed.
I turned. I gave the martinet to Stephen. He looked down at me and
said, ÒYou know I will use it on you.Ó
ÒYes,Ó I said. Then I looked at the wall again.
ÒNo more!Ó my aunt cried. I reached for the biggest thing of all on
the wall. It was a bull whip. I took its thick, sinuous length in my hands
and lifted it off the peg that supported it. It was heavy. I turned and
presented it to Stephen.
ÒThis is what they used to hit slaves with,Ó Stephen said. He took
the whip into his hands and I noticed they were trembling, just a little.
The whip trailed down his shirt front and banged against his stiffly
presented penis. ÒIt can lift the skin right off,Ó Stephen said.
ÒI want it,Ó I replied. Of course I was showing off, when I said that.
I didnÕt really want any of the things IÕd picked. But I did want to show
Stephen I wasnÕt afraid, that I would go wherever he wished me to, for his
love. I bent and kissed the trailing end of the whip and then I bent lower
and kissed the crown of his penis.
ÒAlright,Ó Stephen said. His voice was throaty, aroused, full of deep
feeling. He caught me by my arm. He walked me across the room, me
wriggling in his grasp. Was I trying to break free? I donÕt know. I should
have fought harder if I truly wished to get free, yet, at the same time, I
didnÕt want to seem too compliant. I wished him to take me, to force me
to my fate.
We stopped before a curious-looking device. It was a chair, but it
had a beam across its arms, like a narrow tray laid upon the arms of a
chair for eating in front of the T.V. The chair and the beam on its chair
arms were covered with leather padding. I looked at the chair. Did
Stephen want me to sit in it? Would he feed me, as I sat there, bringing
me treats and spreading them out on the padded leather cross-beam?
ÒMount the chair and kneel up on the beam,Ó Stephen said. He held
my arm. I looked up at him.
ÒHuh?Ó I asked.
ÒClimb up into the chair,Ó Stephen said. He patted my ass. I put a
foot up on the seat of the chair, more to escape his hand, which I feared
would slap me, than to obey him. I clambered into the chair but, instead of
sitting in it, I knelt on the cross-beam. It pressed hard against my knees
and I was thankful for the leather padding.
ÒNow turn around,Ó Stephen said.
ÒBut--Ó I began. I looked more closely at the chair. Although its
seat was padded, the upright back of it was plain wood. There was a large
gap between the lower half of the chair back and the upper half. Stephen
swiveled me around and slipped my feet through the back of the chair.
Then he pressed his hand on the upper half of the chair back. It lowered.
It came down and slammed against the lower half of the chair back.
Fortunately I didnÕt get my ankles broken, for there were small holes cut
into the wood. My feet were trapped, sticking out the back of the chair,
but my bones werenÕt smashed. It was a snug fit, though. I tried drawing
my feet through the holes and could not.
ÒWhat- what have you done to me?Ó I asked. My voice was high-
pitched and nervous. I was just managing to balance on the cross-beam
over the chair seat. If my knees slipped, I would fall and break my ankles,
for they were locked away on the other side of the chair.
Stephen laughed. ÒIt is a pillory,Ó he said. ÒA pillory for your feet.
You kneel on the cross-beam, as you are doing, and your feet are
imprisoned by being stuck through the back of the chair.Ó
ÒI do not like it!Ó I said.
ÒOf course,Ó Stephen said. ÒBut you wonÕt complain when I lift up
your arms and bind them to that beam in the ceiling. For if I donÕt, you
will surely fall, and break both your ankles.Ó
ÒOh, donÕt let go of me, Stephen!Ó I cried, for he was still holding
onto one of my arms.
ÒI am not letting go,Ó Stephen said. He lifted up my arms, one by
one, and fixed them into overhead shackles. I did not resist. How could I?
I didnÕt want my feet broken! My bosoms quavered nervously as he bound
my hands over my head. The bells on my tits tinkled. I felt like a steer
being bound up for slaughter.
ÒShe is deliciously vulnerable,Ó Helene said.
ÒHer bottom will hurt like the dickens,Ó my aunt said frankly, and
cupped her own cheeks in sympathy as she watched me.
Bashfully I let my eyes wander to the men. They sat in a row, like
boys at a peep show, except they had the faces and cocks of men. Their
dicks stood upright, even those of the older men, straining in the air,
quavering with stiff desire. I confess that, though it sounds awful to tell
it now, seeing all those men staring at me thrilled me to my toes. How
perfect I felt! How perfect and desirable, and yet untouchable, for
standing between me and the men was my Master, the man whom I only
knew as ÒStephenÓ.
His own cock stiffly presented through the hole of his fly, otherwise
still dressed, my beloved took a long metal bar from a shelf. He fitted it
between my knees. He pushed my thighs apart so that I could accomodate
it. I looked down over my breasts. Past my wobbling cones of tit flesh I
saw my legs, stretched to their limit, and felt the leather cuffs of the
spreader bar as they were closed over my legs, just above my knees.
My Master locked each cuff with a key, ensuring that I would not
wriggle out of them. Then he reached up between my legs, to my muff. He
fondled the bell hanging from my cunt lips. It tinkled. It was a sweet
sound, but how lewd to make the tight lips of oneÕs cunt into a bell hanger!
Stephen turned and looked at my aunt. ÒShe will need a poultice
when I am done,Ó he said. My aunt was still holding her bottom cheeks
with her palms and she said, opening her mouth prettily, but
uncomprehendingly, ÒHuh?Ó
ÒA poultice,Ó Helene said. ÒOf course.Ó
ÒWhat is a police?Ó I asked, mangling the word, saying perhaps what
I really needed, but wouldnÕt get.
ÒIt is a soft, moist, clay-like substance,Ó Helene said. ÒWe have
some here in a bottle. Your aunt and I will spread it on a large bandage, to
cover your bottom.Ó
ÒOh!Ó I said. ÒThat sounds very good. Then I wonÕt be hurt when
Stephen whips me.Ó
My Master laughed. Helene laughed too, though my aunt looked
worried.
ÒIt is not applied before a whipping, dear, but after,Ó Helene said
mirthfully.
ÒWhat good will it do me then?Ó I asked. My face was blank, honest.
The bells on my nipples and cunt tinkled gently. My bottom called Mass in
the lightest and sweetest sounds, but nobody went to church.
ÒIt will moisten and soothe your poor fanny,Ó Helene said.
ÒOh.Ó I replied. My bells shook louder.
ÒPut some medication on the pad too,Ó Stephen told Helene. ÒI do not
expect to draw blood, but it is always a possiblity.Ó
I wriggled in my bonds, making my bells toll loudly.
ÒOh, Stephen!Ó I cried. My voice was almost a wail. ÒDo you truly
love me?Ó He turned and looked at me with his dark, forboding eyes.
ÒLove?Ó he asked. ÒOf course not. I told you I would not fuck you.Ó
ÒBut do you--?Ó I said, gasping out the words, for I was quite
nervous now.
ÒNo,Ó Stephen answered, stroking the long whip in his hand, the cane
and the paddle lying at his feet, by his shoes. ÒI am giving you a strictly
admonitory whipping,Ó Stephen said. ÒSo that you grow up to be a good
girl. I do not want to see you naked in Penthouse in a few years.Ó He
paused, then added, in a quiet but knowing voice, Òposing in Penthouse and
peeing.Ó
ÒWhat?!Ó I shouted. ÒDo girls do that in Penthouse?Ó
ÒYes,Ó Stephen said.
ÒI felt really proud when this boy at school told me that I was really
pretty, and that I should be in Penthouse,Ó I said. ÒBut now I know what he
meant-- he thinks IÕm a slut!Ó
ÒEnough!Ó Stephen said. ÒYou are not to talk, or to make any noise at
all.Ó I stared at him. He stared at me. His dark eyes seemed to sink into
my own. I sensed he would fall in love with me if we kept talking. He
drew the whip through his fingers, slowly and expertly, weighing its bulk,
and then said, ÒIt is not appropriate for a whip master to know his victim.
You will be loved by others, but not by me. I am only to correct you.Ó
ÒOh, please!Ó I cried. I wanted a kiss, a hug, anything that might
show me he truly prized me. Instead he walked back around behind me, and
I craned my neck, following him with my eyes.
ÒStop looking at me!Ó Stephen yelled. ÒLook to your front. Stare at
the men. I no longer exist for you. Only they exist, and this whip.Ó
ÒAh! Use a lighter one, then!Ó I begged. I gazed at the whips arrayed
on the wall. They came in all sizes. But he was holding the biggest of all
of them!
ÒI would have chosen a small pony whip to smarten you up,Ó Stephen
intoned behind me. ÒA little whip, for your tender young bottom, that is
obviously inexperienced in these matters. But I let you choose, and you
chose a big whip, made to whip bulls, and six foot slaves. So be it. You
wished to show off by picking such a large whip, now you will get to. You
will show all you have, and then some.Ó
ÒStephen!Ó I cried. He silenced me with a sharp crack. It fell upon
my ass, hard and fast, and I would have bolted from my bonds if they
hadnÕt been fixed tight and locked.
ÒYEEEEEHOOOOOCH!Ó I shouted. I saw my aunt, who was watching me,
jump. Her hands were already cupping her ass and they squeezed tightly,
as if she could protect my hiney by holding her own. A flaming line seared
itself upon my buttocks where the whip had struck me. Immediately a
flood of tears poured from my eyes.
ÒI cannot let you scream,Ó Stephen said. ÒIn this room it will make
us all deaf.Ó He walked to a shelf. He picked up a gag and brought it to me.
I fought his fingers, tried to bite them, as he pried my lips apart. When he
had my mouth open he jammed in the gag. It was black, made of cloth.
Stephen tied it behind my head as tears continued to stream down my
cheeks.
ÒOh, donÕt be too harsh with her!Ó my aunt wailed. Helene stroked
her back with a finger and said, ÒI wish to see you whipped next.Ó
ÒYes!Ó two men cried, hearing HeleneÕs words.
ÒOh, I cannot!Ó my aunt screeched.
Our host cleared his throat. ÒYou will bear what is given to you, and
show more maturity in the matter than your little niece does,Ó our host
said. Then, to Stephen, he said, ÒLay on the whip. She is too pretty and
will grow up to be a porn star if she is not given some discipline. She will
make a good wife for a man if she is corrected-- faithful, obedient,
bearing children and keeping a neat home.Ó
Amidst my sniffles and my gagged cries, I wondered why a woman,
even a woman who was a porn star, couldnÕt keep a neat home if she
wished, but our host did not explain. Instead, Stephen, sizing up my
bottom with a long pause, watching my twin cheeks as they shivered and
shook, finally laid on another stroke with his whip.
Ah, how it stung! How it drove all thoughts of being bad from my
mind! At that moment I would have been a nun if I could only have been
freed from the agony of the lash. Instead, far from nun-like, I arched
forward my hips, displaying my cunt to the men, and making the bells
dangling upon me ring as if to warn of the Devil. The men laughed. Helene
watched me with avid eyes, drinking in the sight of my well-offered cunt
as if she were a man. My aunt turned her head away, sobbing, and Helene,
still keeping her eyes on me, cupped my auntÕs head in her arm and pressed
it to her shoulder. My auntÕs hands rubbed her own bottom as she stood
before me, for she knew she would be next.
Oh, why had my aunt and I put ourselves in such a position? We were
trapped, in a roomful of men, with only Helene to comfort us. Yet she was
little help; she savored our distress as much as the males did! As I
writhed upon the padded bar, my feet trapped, my mouth gagged, my hands
upraised and bound, my legs stretched wide apart, my body festooned with
bells, I could not answer the question I put to myself. Between my
screams I wondered at it. Perhaps it was the teasing we liked. Getting
dressed up, looking our best, driving the men crazy with our little ways of
behaving. I do not know what it was. Surely it was not the pain; was it
the glow that sometimes ensued, afterward? Did being dominated give us
a sense of accomplishment? Surely it required us to offer our all; where
else was surrender so complete, if not in such a place as this?
Slowly, deliberatly, the whip was applied to my bottom. Stephen
waited for long moments between strokes, letting me feel the maximum
amount of humiliation and pain. My hips worked in desperation at first,
whenever the whip fell, showing off my pussy as if I were a cheap whore,
eager for any manÕs cock. Then, slowly, as my tears streamed down my
face, my gyrations slowed. The pain imprinted upon my bottom ebbed, just
slightly, like a fire dwindling to hot embers. At last, my hips stilled,
churning a little but no longer making a lewd display, and I blushed,
recovering a sense of myself, of my predicament, of who I was and the
shame I felt at being so wickedly displayed and punished.
It was then that Stephen would strike again, making me howl anew,
and dance again, upon my knees, on the leather bar.
At last it ended. Perhaps it was hours later, I do not know. I lost
track of time, hanging there with my head bowed, exhausted in my
suffering, no longer caring what happened to me, only praying that
somehow, some way, it all would stop. Weakly I flexed my bottom halves;
they burned all over by now, a great mass of hot weals, red and sore,
vigorous marks of well-applied discipline. My breasts hung heavily with
the bells, shaking whenever I breathed, jangling like a poorly played
funeral dirge. In between my legs my cuntlips ached with the weight of
the large, sac-like bell hanging there. My flesh felt stretched, offered, my
lips an invitation to pillage. In behind my bottomhole felt utterly
violated; the turd-like appendage stuck in my ass rang freely, as if to
announce to the world that I needed to poop.
With surprisingly gentle hands, Stephen unbuckled the bar from
between my legs. I could not move my thighs and he closed them for me,
using his big hands. He unsnapped the bell from my cunt and I screeched as
I regained that bit of myself that had been pinched off by it. My nipples
fared no better; I thought they would pop from my breasts when the
clamps were released and my blood flowed back into them. In fact, the
clamps had been lightly applied; just enough to keep the bells on me during
my whipping, but I was not used to wearing such jewelry. Stephen pried
the bell out of my ass and and I felt like a big thing of poop had been
pulled out of me.
ÒThere, there,Ó Helene said to me, as Stephen unlocked my feet, and
unbuckled my arms, and lifted me down. I was laid out on a GYN table,
face down. The stirrups were inverted to accomodate my feet. My knees
hung wide apart. I was conscious of my cunt, and listened, weeping and
still gagged, as the men all stood up.
ÒShe is ready to be fucked,Ó Helene said. ÒThen when you men have
taken your pleasure with her, I shall apply a poultice to her behind.Ó
ÒNo!Ó I cried, but my gag was tight and I was too weak to even lift up
my head.
ÒShe shouldnÕt be as tight now that sheÕs been well whipped,Ó
Stephen said. ÒGod knows, sheÕs still only 13, but a good whipping like
this one should have relaxed her somewhat.Ó
ÒYou have done fine work,Ó our host said. ÒEven my friend from
Algeria finds your whipping an admirable one. I shall have other girls out
to my vineyard. Perhaps you would be interested in a return engagement?Ó
ÒI am always looking to improve my skills,Ó Stephen answered. ÒBut
I do not fuck girls that I whip, so keep that in mind.Ó
ÒIndeed! ThatÕs why I like you,Ó our host said. ÒBut our rule is that
every man must cum. To make us all equal. Use your hand or have Helene
or ÔtwoÕ service you.Ó
ÒI donÕt mind a good spurt,Ó Stephen answered.
Suffering and scared, lying upon the table like a Thanksgiving turkey,
with my legs apart for stuffing, I was fucked by the men. They were
gentle with me, but they all insisted on having a turn. All but Stephen,
who proceeded to imprison my aunt on the chair and to whip her. I
listened to her cries, involuntarily, as the men grunted over me and filled
me. When it was done Helene spent a long time douching me, and finally
put a poultice over my bottom.
My aunt, when her turn came, received the same. When we both had
been diapered in bandages that covered our asses Helene knelt and took
Stephen in her mouth. He discharged freely, weary from punishing us and
glad to find release.
30
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