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Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
At a WomanÕs Command
Chapter One
He fingered the crumpled piece of paper. It was smudged with soot,
but he could still read it: ÒValerie, Chinese with cute small face and
slightly fat bottom. About 13, 14 growing tits, likes stickers.Ó He had
written this when heÕd met the girl, before his shift a week ago. Now she
was dead. He had wanted to see her again. There were few women left
and she had seemed like such a nice girl. But he had watched on T.V. when
the tower she lived in collapsed. Her father had been rich. They had lived
up on the 112th floor. He didnÕt have confirmation that she was dead but
with the building gone, it was almost certain. It had been one of those big
Ôall in oneÕ buildings they started putting up about ten years ago, when
people became frightened and didnÕt want to venture out anymore. It had
everything. Filtered air, filtered water. Even the food was randomly
tested as it came in to make sure it wasnÕt being poisoned. But of course
no one could stop the missiles.
ÒWe keep making them and they do too,Ó Mark mumbled to himself.
He could hear the launchers now, the low distant roar of them suddenly
erupting. He looked up, still holding the paper. He saw the missiles streak
up into the slowly darkening evening sky. He knew that, almost
simultaneously, on the other side of the world, in Afghanistan, the other
side was firing interceptors. Probably none of these going up now, into
the twilight, would reach their targets. They would be knocked out in the
upper reaches of the atmosphere, or in the fringe of outer space, by the
missiles being fired from Afghanistan. But perhaps one or two would get
through; that was the hope. Then buildings would be struck on the other
side of the world. They would tumble and kill girls like Valerie, and her
entire family.
ÒThe Clash of Civilizations,Ó it was called in the classrooms, where
the children huddled, listening to the rockets go off during their lessons.
The kids didnÕt use the long form of the word, however, they simply called
it ÒCCÓ. Originally it had been called World War Three but then there had
been that half-baked truce, which had lasted for nine months, just enough
time for the world to deliver a new war baby. Nobody had bothered to call
the new eruption of war that broke out after the truce World War Four. It
had seemed to gruesome. So some egghead scholar had come up with this
long, seemingly antiseptic name, for all the killing. ÒThe Clash,Ó some
Brits had called it, apparently trying to link it to one of their bands from
the previous century. Perhaps to sell a few more DVDÕs? But the kids just
said ÒCC,Ó as if to say, ÒSee, look! TheyÕre destroying the world!Ó
Everything was used now, in this seemingly final battle of humanity.
All the beasts had been let loose. Nuclear, chemical, biological. It all was
beginning to lose what distinction it had seemingly possessed in earlier
days, when the weapons were simply being stockpiled. Now earth was
bathed in a radioactive soup, replete with biological antigens, spiced with
chemical poisons. Nobody could go out anymore without a complete
bodysuit and a mask, with tanks strapped to his back. Mark stood
watching the darkness close in over the towers of the city, feeling his
breath heave in his chest from a long day of work. He was entitled to
twelve hours leave now. Where would he go? He had wanted to see Cindy
but that seemed pretty useless. The last thing he wanted to do with his
twelve hours leave was poke around in some burning ash looking for a dead
child. Even if she was pretty and he liked her. In twelve hours he would
have to strap this mask back on, the suit, the tanks. He would be back at
work, and although it would be nice to be assigned to CindyÕs ruins, as he
now found himself calling them, with his luck he probably wouldnÕt be.
Instead he would be pulling some other dead childÕs body out of the
endless wreckage that the missiles kept making, someplace else in the
city, while some other rescue worker was finding her. Or digging up, with
his bare hands, without even knowing it, the ashes of her body.
The children were the worst. He didnÕt mind the half-naked headless
ladies and the men, but yanking out dead children from the newly-made
ruins was awful. The work was worth it, though. Now and then he found a
survivor. Once a woman had been trapped in a car. Its doors and windows
had kept out the awful stuff swirling in the atmosphere. The radiation had
hit her of course, but she was still able to get up and walk, once Mark got
a door on the car prised open for her. That had been nice, very nice, seeing
someone actually walk away. Mark and his men had gotten her right into a
body bag, of course, slapping a mask on her and zipping her up like some
corpse. He had no idea if she was still alive now. Hopefully she had done
well in the decontamination chamber. If she had, she would now be in a
waiting area somewhere, perhaps filling out paperwork for readmission.
Mark turned and went down a flight of ash-coated stairs, leaving the
night behind. A glimmer of white light at the base of the stairs revealed a
neon-lit hallway. Mark entered it, and went to the platform to wait for
the subway. There were other men like himself standing around in grime-
laden suits and masks, tanks on their backs. There were a few women too,
but it was difficult to tell one gender from the other in their baggy
uniforms. They were just ambulatory shadows, it seemed, black from
smoke of the fires and white from the ash, grey baggy cadavers-to-be, all
zipped up and waiting to be incinerated if they should happen to die.
But Mark wasnÕt dead, and as a train whooshed into the station ten
minutes later he boarded it with the others. Mark found a seat. The
subway doors slid shut and the train raced off, into the darkness of a
tunnel, the only lights now those shining inside the car Mark was sitting
in. They seemed like dim candles, almost Medieval. Mark looked around.
His fellow corpses were being rushed into a catacomb, it seemed, with
himself along for this grisly ride, wondering how it had all come to this.
It had started, of course, back at the beginning of the century. 2001
had not resulted in a space odyssey to Jupiter and the evolution of
mankind into a celestial lifeform. Instead, with the destruction of the
World Trade Center towers, all Hell had broken loose. Not right away,
though. The people in power had seemed to sense that, with all their
weapons, they were on the verge of some abyss. But in the end revenge
had to come, didnÕt it? And that led to new attacks, and new necessary
acts of revenge, or Òjustice,Ó as the elites had called it. Then Russia and
China switched sides, and that was the end of it. Technology kept
advancing, seemingly more rapidly than ever, with the inspiration of war,
but instead of reaching a final ÒjustÓ climax the battles had grown more
devastating and complex. What had once been an endless scuffle between
Israel and Islam became America versus Islam, and it was just as endless
but much more destructive.
And here they were, ninety years on. The cities of the world were
half-smashed and rebuilt. Now people were beginning to build
underground, no longer at ease in their gleaming interceptor-protected
towers. Mark was thinking about leasing an apartment underground but at
the moment he still liked the damn view, from the 55th floor of the Orion
Center where he lived. Yes, the city wasnÕt the gleaming marvel it had
once been, before the really rough stuff of the war got unleashed. But it
was still nice to look at, especially with the sun setting in the distance,
lighting up the waters off San Francisco with a gleaming gold. Mark
laughed. The one benefit of the destruction of earthÕs atmosphere was
that the views of the setting sun had improved. It was as if, in their final
throes of death, the earth had given humans one last gift: a parting shot
of extraordinary beauty before the end of all intelligent life on the planet.
Are we intelligent? Mark wondered. Other creatures seemed less so
but they didnÕt turn their living space into a radioactive wasteland. The
train lurched to a stop, tossing Mark forward and then back as if to argue
with him, to prove to him that yes, humans must be intelligent because
they had created machines like this that could rush the human body, soot-
covered though it might be, eighty miles to the West in twenty
daydreaming minutes. Mark was no longer in SD, Sacramento District. He
was home again, ready for his twelve hours leave in SF. He got up. The
corpses around him moved forward, shuffled out the doors of the train. He
followed. They entered a decontamination chamber. The air could be heard
hissing out of the room, leaving it empty as the vacuousness of outer
space. Then a door at the far end of the room opened, and they all shuffled
forward. When they were inside this second room there was a sound of air
hissing in; fresh, clean filtered air. They began to strip. When they were
naked they piled their clothing and tanks in a corner. Then yet another
door opened and they walked into a third room. Showers came on. Their
bodies were bathed in fresh filtered water. Mark let out a grateful almost
primal yell, and he was not the only one. It was good to be back to
Òcivilization,Ó or what was left of it. Then he and the others proceeded
into a fourth room where they picked up towels and dried themselves, and
put on clothes. Mark zippered himself into a white jumpsuit. Feeling good
with the weight of the tanks off his back, he went out with the others
onto a boulevard. They parted company there, each going his own way.
Mark hailed a yellow cab and it pulled up alongside the curb. In his white
jumpsuit everything was free; rides, food, entertainment. The government
picked up the tab. Mark opened the back door of the cab. He wanted to rest
and he hoped the driver wouldnÕt ask him about his day if he sat in the
back. The man, burly and unshaven, nodded courteously. Mark nodded back.
ÒWhere you like?Ó the cab driver asked. By his accent and his use of
language Mark realized he must be from a foreign country. Mark gave an
amused grimace. The immigrants kept coming, even as America and its
enemies continued to pound themselves and the rest of the world into
dust.
ÒHome, Orion Complex,Ó Mark was going to say. But he suddenly
remembered a notice heÕd seen on a bulletin board on his way into work.
ÒPleasure centers re-open,Ó it had read. And Mark had smiled on
seeing it and wondered if he might want to go there. He was new to the
rescue profession. He had just left college a month ago to begin the week
long shifts that were expected of new recruits. The pleasure centers had
been a boyhood fantasy of his, one of the reasons he had joined the rescue
profession in the first place. You could get all the sex you wanted there,
or whatever else might relax you, given by the top females, all volunteer,
of course, that the society could provide. Cops went there too of course,
and firefighters, and then the army invited itself to have the privileges
also. The politicians werenÕt far behind in being qualified to join, despite
being far from the front lines. At first there had been protests by
feminists but these had died away as the war dragged on and the shifts
went from twelve hours to two days and finally to three, and a full week
for the new recruits.
Then disaster had struck. A biological virus was let loose
somewhere on the planet and it wiped out more women than men. Some
said it was radical feminists who had concocted the virus, in an effort to
close down the pleasure centers. It worked; without women, the centers
closed. But the virus couldnÕt discriminate between women who worked in
pleasure centers, or other women. Many women died, all over the planet.
The only group that was unaffected was radical feminists. They claimed
they were safe because they were enlightened, but others said they had
created the virus and injected themselves in advance with an antidote to
it.
But now the pleasure centers, according to the notice at least, were
back in business. Young girls had escaped the ravages of the virus. Mark
had heard that some were volunteering to work in the pleasure centers, as
a patriotic service. But the feminists were still savoring half a victory.
For the notice had said, ÒNo sex will be provided.Ó
ÒOh well, it would still be restful,Ó Mark said to himself.
ÒWhere you like?Ó the cab driver said again, in a more insistent
voice. Mark blinked. He felt the cab moving under him. It felt rather like
the subway and for a moment he was back on the train, moving however
ÒoutboundÓ, back to work, again wearing his tanks, wrapped in his suit.
ÒTake me to the nearest pleasure center,Ó Mark said abruptly. He
knew he needed a good twelve hours sleep. HeÕd be popping Wake pills
again in twelve hours, kept artificially awake for another whole week.
But hadnÕt he become a rescue worker, in addition for his love for his
country and helping people, to go to one of these places? What would the
guys say when he met with them again, in video-mode, if they asked if
heÕd visited a center yet and heÕd said ÒnoÓ? Sure, maybe sex was
forbidden now, but heÕd still feel a bit sheepish if he told his friends heÕd
spent all his hours off asleep in his apartment.
ÒNice, nice,Ó the cab driver said, smiling as he raced the cab through
traffic.
ÒThereÕs no sex allowed there anymore,Ó Mark told the driver,
feeling he needed to defend his intentions.
ÒNice girls though,Ó the driver said.
ÒThatÕs true,Ó Mark agreed. The feminists may have wiped out the
women in the pleasure centers, but with the decline of women worldwide
more men were now allowing themselves to date girls like Valerie, that
Mark had met briefly the week before. And the society wasnÕt
complaining, as it had in the past. Babies were needed, if the war was to
continue. Whatever arrangements people made to produce children or to
enjoy themselves were increasingly their own business, not a matter for
state intervention. But being publicly funded and so overtly dedicated to
pleasure, the pleasure centers were not going to give in quite yet to free
love. Mark was sure that the feminists would keep them sex free for as
long as possible; making them, perhaps, in the end, compared to the
society at large, not so much pleasure centers but puritan centers.
Still, it was worth at least one visit, Mark told himself, even if he
would be half dead next shift and feeling like his brains were being fried
by the Wake pills he had to swallow.
The cab rolled to a stop. The driver reached back and shouted and
shook MarkÕs shoulder. MarkÕs eyes flew open. Was another building
toppling? His reflexes tensed; he was ready to move at a momentÕs notice.
Then he realized he wasnÕt about to be crushed but was merely sitting
outside one of the pleasure centers. Mark thanked the driver and got out of
the cab. The vehicle left at once; off to another waiting rider somewhere
in the vast building.
Mark looked around and got his bearings. He had gotten off the train
in the Bryanston Area but now he near Llewellian Park. He looked along
the covered boulevard, at the rush of traffic, wondering if a missile might
come suddenly crashing down. Then he stepped forward. He wanted to
leave all that behind now, or try. He walked up to a glass door. A clerk
sitting inside, seeing his white jumpsuit, opened it for him.
ÒHello, welcome to Pleasure Center Fallon,Ó the clerk said. It was a
woman, with long red hair that sheÕd piled into a loose chignon. Mark
returned the womanÕs smile and said,
ÒIÕm glad to see the O plague didnÕt get you.Ó O was short for
Ovarian plague, for that was where the virus began its attack on a
womanÕs body that had so devastated them.
ÒYes,Ó the woman said. Mark wondered for a moment if she might be
a radical feminist and then dismissed the thought. What would such a
person be doing here? The woman, seemingly smiling endlessly, asked,
ÒWhat would you like?Ó
ÒIÕd like to get laid,Ó Mark answered.
ÒWouldnÕt we all?Ó the woman said, either faking a small laugh or
managing to suppress a more vigorous one. ÒIÕm afraid that isnÕt possible
here at Pleasure Center Fallon but we have many other entertainments,Ó
the woman smiled.
ÒBut youÕre a woman,Ó Mark said, not wanting to lose the opportunity
to press his request for sex, at least as long as it lasted.
ÒYes, and youÕre quite cute. And young too,Ó the woman said, still
smiling. ÒBut IÕd be fucked to death if I let every man have me who
wanted me. Perhaps some other time,Ó she said, ÒAway from work.Ó
ÒOf course,Ó Mark said. He didnÕt want to put himself into a position
where he could be accused of sexual harassment. That was a full yearÕs
sentence, down in the morgue.
ÒI appreciate your interest,Ó the woman said to Mark, her eyelashes
fluttering now, coyly as she continued smiling at him.
ÒOnly asking because IÕm here,Ó Mark assured the woman.
ÒHow would you like to be entertained?Ó the woman asked. She
handed Mark a Palm pilot. As he took it in his hand it flashed brightly at
him. ÒWe have a menu of options to choose from,Ó the woman said. Mark
gazed at the screen and said,
ÒI think IÕll just have a massage.Ó
ÒA fine choice,Ó the woman said. Mark made to hand back the Palm
pilot and the woman said,
ÒReturn it when you leave. It lists everything we offer, from golf to
Bible readings.Ó
ÒI think IÕll stick with the massage,Ó Mark said, and shook his head,
wondering if Òpleasure centerÓ was the right word for a place that had no
sex and that the fundamentalists had insisted include Bible readings on
the menu. The woman pointed Mark to a doorway beyond her desk. He went
to it and, when she pressed a button on her desk the doors slid back. Mark
smelled sweet perfumed air, like roses. To his right, on a seemingly
endless lawn, men in white shirts and shorts were playing golf. To his
left the blue waters of an Olympic swimming pool beckoned. Mark stood
bewildered for a moment, when another set of doors opened and a girl
stepped out.
She was blonde, about the same age as Valerie had been, with the
same small cute face that girl had possessed but larger eyes, blue as the
waters of the pool. She smiled at Mark. She stepped up to him, holding a
towel in one hand and wearing a loose white robe. On her feet were low-
heeled sandals. Before Mark could say anything she had taken his large
hand in her small one and was leading him through the doors she had
stepped out of.
ÒHello. This way. My nameÕs Elizabeth,Ó the girl said. ÒBut you can
call me Beth.Ó
ÒAlright,Ó Mark answered. He was ushered into a white room with
metal ivory-colored lockers on both walls. Keys hung from the lockers,
waiting to be used and then extracted.
ÒPlease undress for your massage and put your personal items into
the locker of your choice, as well as your clothes,Ó Beth told Mark. ÒIÕll be
waiting for you in the next room,Ó she said. She pointed to another set of
doors, white painted like the walls of the room and the lockers.
ÒSo many doors,Ó Mark murmured. At one time humans had evolved
outside, in the open air and the unfiltered sunshine. Now they were all
locked away, as if slowly closing themselves off to be entombed. But at
last he would be able to strip everything off, not just the mask and tanks
he wore at work but this white jumpsuit too. He would be able to relish in
being naked, or almost so. The girl thrust the towel at him.
ÒPlease put this on before you come in,Ó the girl said.
ÒAlright,Ó Mark said. He took the towel from her. She left him,
walking on through the doors beyond. He stripped and hung his jumpsuit in
a locker. Then he wrapped the towel around himself. He went to the doors
and as he approached a sensor, set in the wall above the doors, opened
them for him. He saw Beth standing next to a cushioned white-sheeted
table. There was a white pillow at one end of the table. The girl smiled
at him. Around him were wood-paneled walls. Their brown color spoke of
the natural world above, of trees and falling leaves and the color of furred
animals, before the war had ruined it all. Next to the table, which sat low
to the ground, was a low cabinet with drawers. The cabinet was brown
and made of wood like the walls. Mark walked up to it. He saw things
scattered on top of it. Beth, smiling shyly, picked up one of the items, a
bottle, and said,
ÒWe have everything here for your satisfaction. Mineral oil,
vaseline, foam ice, balsamic cream and gelatin heat.Ó Mark saw a pile of
colored condoms and said,
ÒWhat are those for? I thought there wasnÕt any sex.Ó
ÒItÕs to allow you to enjoy an ejaculation, if you wish,Ó the girl told
him. ÒIÕm told these things are necessary sometimes.Ó Mark felt a
stirring in his loins. His balls felt full and he nodded.
ÒMaybe youÕre right,Ó he said. His towel lifted slightly, down where
he was feeling suddenly excited, despite his tired limbs.
ÒPlease lie down,Ó the girl said. ÒIÕll take care of everything.Ó
Mark stretched out on the table. It felt reassuringly soft, as if
welcoming into his own bed. He let his head rest back on the pillow. For a
moment he feared he might fall fast asleep there, but then the girl opened
one of the bottles and a sweet, slightly pungent smell as of violets struck
his nostrils. The girl wet her hands with the bottle and he watched her,
looking up at her. She was so young a beautiful! Her long blonde hair,
which had been loose and flowing down over her shoulders when she met
him, was now pinned up, in the loose chignon that the woman at the desk
wore. She had taken off her robe and was wearing instead just a towel, a
white one, the same as Mark wore around her waist. But hers, owing to
her feminine form, was wrapped around her growing breasts and belly and
hips. There must have been an art to the way she wrapped it, for it hugged
her waist while allowing her tits to push hard against the top of it,
showing their young growing fleshy cones to him as she bent now and
applied her little hands to his bare chest. Mark marvelled at the girlÕs
ripe young tits. If only the towel were a little lower he could see the
beginning of her areolas-- there, he could! Just barely, teasingly. He felt
himself rise up a little more in his loose and carelessly wrapped towel.
The girl, smoothing her hands across his hard muscled chest, admiring
with her fingertips the hair growing there, noticed MarkÕs rising erection.
She giggled.
ÒSorry,Ó Mark said.
ÒItÕs quite alright. Tell me if you need to put on a condom,Ó the girl
said.
ÒI will,Ó Mark said, and then he bit his upper lip as his cock grew
even bigger, making his towel suddenly stand up, as if a World Trade
Center of his own had suddenly been built there between his towel-
covered legs. ÒHow long have you been working here?Ó Mark asked after a
little while, beginning to feel himself fall asleep as the girl slowly
worked the flesh of his shoulders. They ached, from having the straps of
the oxygen tank over them for a whole week straight. The girlÕs little
fingers seemed to push deep into his flesh and free them of their pain.
ÒA week,Ó the girl said.
ÒThatÕs not long,Ó Mark said.
ÒAm I displeasing you?Ó the girl asked.
ÒNo, no!Ó Mark assured her. ÒYouÕre doing very well. My shoulders
are starting to feel like theyÕre part of my body again.Ó
ÒThatÕs good,Ó the girl said. She seemed to want to kiss him, or
perhaps he just fantasized it, as her young face hovered over his and she
worked his shoulders. A blonde strand of her hair fell down. She paused,
lifted a hand from his right shoulder and replaced it behind her ear. Then
she kept working, and after a while, seeing Mark was starting to fall
asleep again but that his cock was still erect, she asked, ÒAre your balls
full?Ó
ÒHuh?Ó Mark asked. The girl giggled. She had moved down to his
stomach by now. It was flat and hard. She eased its tenseness by moving
her hands across it, feeling it soften like the rest of his tired body. But
his cock remained straight and tall, and the girl asked again,
ÒAre your balls full?Ó
ÒAre you supposed to ask me that?Ó Mark asked.
ÒNot really,Ó the girl said. ÒBut I can help you relax yourself if
thatÕs what you need.Ó
ÒWith a condom,Ó Mark said.
ÒYes,Ó the girl said.
ÒI donÕt know that one good yank would be all I need,Ó Mark said. He
did indeed feel full, and now lying here so comfortably, so close to a
beautiful female, he felt as if his testicles were going to burst. He bit his
lip again. This girl wasnÕt helping the matter with her questions.
ÒIÕm sure I can satisfy you, sir,Ó the girl said. ÒIf youÕll roll over IÕd
like to start on your back.Ó She reached up, replaced a fallen hair that had
again slipped down from her chignon. Mark grunted. He lifted himself. He
was about to roll over when the girl said, ÒIf youÕll just scoot down a
moment, sir.Ó Mark wasnÕt sure what she meant but he allowed her room
to lift and fold back the white sheet that was covering the cushioned
table. When she had, a hole was revealed. It was in the center of the table
and it looked about the size of something a tire iron might be put through.
ÒWhatÕs that?Ó Mark asked.
ÒItÕs for your penis, sir,Ó the girl replied. Mark frowned and looked
at her.
ÒYou want me to fuck the table?Ó Mark asked. That was some way
for him to relive his balls!
ÒItÕs to keep you from having to lie flat on your erection, sir,Ó the
girl told Mark. ÒJust put yourself through-- I donÕt think youÕll be too big
to fit.Ó
ÒNo, no,Ó Mark murmured, looking again at the hole. It had been made
sufficiently wide to accommodate any size penis, that he could see, even
one such as his which was routinely complimented for its size when he
managed to get a female into bed with him. Mark rolled over. He allowed
the girl to take off his towel. As he felt the cool air of the room touch his
naked ass he reached down with his right hand and inserted himself into
the hole in the table. He felt his cock slide through it and out the other
side. Then he eased down onto the table, chest flat against it, his ass
inviting the girlÕs hands to come down on his bare cheeks and begin
rubbing them.
ÒMmmm,Ó Mark grunted. ÒThat feels good.Ó He felt his balls lying
heavily between his thighs. At the same time he felt his dick, still
gloriously hard and sticking down beneath him. The table was snug
against the base of his cock but not too snug. There was still a little
room to accommodate a man bigger than himself, if such a man existed.
ÒSpread your legs,Ó the girl told Mark.
ÒHuh?Ó Mark asked.
ÒI have to give you an enema,Ó the girl said. Wondering why she was
no longer calling him ÔsirÕ and if he was dreaming such a statement, he
shook his head a little, keeping it pressed lightly to the pillow, and said,
ÒDid I ask for an enema?Ó
ÒIf IÕm going to empty your balls I need to fill your ass,Ó the girl
said. ÒItÕs part of the procedure.Ó
ÒI donÕt need my ass filled to get off!Ó Mark said. The girl patted
MarkÕs back. He wished for a moment he had his towel on again. It was
lying on the floor where the girl had tossed it, just out of his reach.
ÒLet me explain, sir,Ó the girl said, once again using the honorific.
ÒThere are certain limitations to what IÕm allowed to provide, and what
youÕre allowed to request. If you want to cum you can, but as a--Ó the girl
scrunched up her nose and stopped massaging him and thought a moment.
ÒAs a dis-- A distinction-- No, I mean as not being allowed to do
something...Ó
ÒA disincentive?Ó Mark asked.
ÒThatÕs it!Ó the girl said. She began massaging him again. ÒAs a
disinstinctive, to cumming I mean, IÕm required to give you an enema if
you want to cum.Ó
The door leading to the locker room opened. Mark looked up, as did
the girl massaging his back. Mark saw the redhead from the front desk.
His cock lurched in the hole in the table; she was more beautiful than ever
and she was wearing a tight-wrapped towel, like the girl.
ÒSorry, I couldnÕt resist,Ó the woman smiled. She stepped over to
where Mark was lying and, without interrupting the child massaging his
back, she reached down and eased her hand between MarkÕs legs. ÒOh, so
full!Ó the woman marvelled, grasping part of MarkÕs testicle sac with her
fingers. Mark felt the womanÕs nails against his skin; her nails, unlike the
girlÕs childish hands, were long and sharp!
ÒHey,Ó Mark said.
ÒWhen did you last cum?Ó the woman asked. Mark felt the womanÕs
fingers put pressure on his balls. At the same time she said to him,
ÒPlease spread your legs.Ó Mark obeyed, feeling his cock grow even more
rigid where it hung down straight and urgent below the table.
ÒLast- last week,Ó Mark gasped.
ÒDid you have sex or masturbate?Ó the woman asked. Mark blinked at
the womanÕs directness. He looked over his shoulder at her, past the
slender arms of the child massaging his back. She was lovely, like an
apparition, her large breasts seemingly wanting to burst from her towel.
ÒI masturbated,Ó Mark confessed. The little girl giggled. Mark
blushed.
ÒItÕs quite alright,Ó the woman said. ÒThatÕs what weÕll be doing to
you here. As Beth explained, if a client wishes to spend himself itÕs
considered a physical procedure. As such all of the clientÕs physical needs
must be attended too, as complete as possible. ThatÕs why Beth needs to
be able to give you an enema if you want to cum.Ó She smiled
understandingly at Mark. ÒThank the feminists,Ó she added. ÒOr perhaps it
was the fundamentalists who insisted on the enema.Ó
ÒEither way IÕm getting one if I want to cum, eh?Ó Mark asked.
ÒThatÕs right,Ó the redhead said. She squeezed his balls again, and
urged him to open himself to her hand a little more, spreading his legs
more widely on the table. ÒIn this position the girls may not call you
ÔsirÕ,Ó the woman said. ÒItÕs considered demeaning to a woman to call a
man ÔsirÕ when heÕs asking her to bring him off.Ó
ÒThatÕs alright,Ó Mark said. He watched as Beth wet her hands anew
with oil. Then she went for his ass and spread his cheeks with her hands.
He resisted, his buttocks clenching. The woman reached down and helped
the girl open his ass.
ÒMy name is Kathy,Ó the woman told Mark, rather incongruously as
she pulled apart his butt.
ÒNice to meet you,Ó Mark grunted. He felt BethÕs pointing finger on
her right hand push suddenly into his anus. ÒAck!Ó Mark gasped.
ÒSowwy,Ó Beth said.
ÒHe looks tight. Is he?Ó Kathy asked Beth.
ÒYes!Ó Beth said. Mark grimaced and grunted again as he felt the
childÕs finger work more deeply into his ass. It felt like a little wiggling
worm, going down deep now and making him gasp.
ÒYouÕll open more easily if you visit us weekly,Ó Kathy said to Mark.
One of her hands let go of his behind and she stroked the back of his right
thigh.
ÒI- wasnÕt- really-Ó Mark began, but he had only begun to utter the
sentence, grunting between each word, when Beth reached back behind
herself with one hand and pulled open the top drawer on the wooden chest.
She took out a cone shaped object. She held it up to MarkÕs gaze, he
straining to look back over his shoulder as she kept one finger in his ass.
ÒThis is a solid enema,Ó Beth told Mark. ÒIt will hurt going in. ItÕs
bigger than my finger. You need to lie still and keep it in you. It will
dissolve in a few minutes and then youÕll have to go to the bathroom.Ó
ÒWhich you may not do, until youÕve cum and youÕre given
permission,Ó Kathy added.
ÒBut--Ó Mark said. It was no use, the two females were quick and
determined. A moment later he let out a pained howl as he felt something
the size of a baseball shoved into him, but going with its point first, to
ease the way. ÒGodDAMN!Ó Mark bellowed. Kathy laughed, little Beth
pushed harder and Mark felt the object slide deeper into his guts.
Suddenly the child slapped his bare behind.
ÒThere! All done,Ó Beth said. MarkÕs eyes bulged. He felt as if heÕd
sat on something, despite his upturned bottom, and that it had gotten up
into his ass, which indeed it had. He tried forcing it out with a pushing
movement, but it was solidly lodged.
ÒYou took that well,Ó Kathy told Mark. As Beth agreed that he had,
the woman came around to the front of MarkÕs table. She reached down and
played with her hand in his hair, tousling it. Meanwhile Beth, humming
happily, began massaging his legs. ÒIÕm going to give you a treat. If you
will place yourself entirely in my hands, doing whatever I ask, IÕll have
sex with you.Ó
ÒYou will?Ó Mark gasped.
ÒYes. But perhaps not this visit,Ó Kathy said. ÒIt depends on how
obedient you are.Ó
ÒI would be very obedient to have sex with you,Ó Mark confessed,
looking again at her luscious body, and wishing he could have it.
ÒWeÕll see,Ó Kathy said. ÒTotal obedience is what I require. And in a
minute IÕm going to test you on just that point.Ó She laughed and pulled
down the front of her towel. Her tits burst forth, like ripe fruit spilling
suddenly from a basket. His mouth salivating, Mark gazed up at her lovely
juddering breasts, white-fleshed like the table he was lying on, with their
pink points, seemingly so tender, the nipples standing up as stiffly as his
cock was, downthrust through the table.
ÒOh! May I pull my towel down?Ó Beth asked Kathy.
ÒOf course, dear,Ó Kathy said. ÒWeÕre going to give him the special
treatment.Ó
ÒOh boy!Ó Beth said.
Kathy reminded Mark to be good and to keep lying on the table and
letting his enema dissolve. Then she left the room and returned a minute
later with a second girl. She was blonde like Beth, but slightly shorter.
Her tits were somewhat smaller as well and Mark, gazing up at her from
where she was resting, guessed she must be no more than twelve. As he
was still staring at her slender body, covered up to her tits but with her
breasts showing, like Beth and KathyÕs, the girl went to the chest and
rummaged amongst the condoms.
ÒHeÕll need the biggest one,Ó Kathy told the 12-year-old.
ÒOkay,Ó the girl answered. Her voice was high and chirpy, like a
chipmunkÕs.
ÒThis is Sheila,Ó Kathy told Mark. ÒShe what pretty lips she has?Ó
ÒYes,Ó Mark said. He gazed at the girlÕs mouth as she selected a
lime-colored condom. Her lips were full and red, sweetly innocent, or so
they seemed. The girl knelt down, still holding the condom. A moment
later she had disappeared under MarkÕs table and he let out a yell of
surprise as he felt something grab hold of his cock.
ÒWhatÕs she doing?Ó Mark asked. Kathy laughed. Mark felt a wetness
suddenly around the end of his cock, and then a delicious pull on himself as
an ÒMmmmm!Ó made itself heard under him.
ÒSheÕs sucking you, darling,Ó Kathy said to Mark. She ran her fingers
through his hair again. ÒDonÕt you enjoy it?Ó She asked. Mark shivered,
Beth still massaging his right thigh as she now took hold of his balls.
ÒYes!Ó Mark said. ÒBut- but I donÕt think sheÕs put the condom on me,
has she?Ó
ÒWhen youÕre ready to cum, darling,Ó Kathy said. Mark lurched on the
table, feeling something wet suddenly close around the base of his
testicles. Raising his head, straining back to look as he felt his cock
straining beneath him, he saw that little Beth had bent down and, with her
naked breasts resting against his right thigh, had cupped his balls in her
mouth. She began to suck too, as the girl under him drew his cock deeper
into her own mouth.
ÒAnd now for the final touch,Ó Kathy smiled at Mark. ÒRemember,
complete obedience please. Do you have to shit yet?Ó Mark quivered on
the table.
ÒItÕs still in me. I think I have to go, a little bit,Ó Mark said.
ÒHold still,Ó Kathy said. She left the room again and a moment later
she returned. To MarkÕs astonishment she had a boy with her. He looked
about 16, and was quite handsome, a towel wrapped around him as MarkÕs
towel had once been wrapped around himself. At a wink from the woman,
the boy undid his towel. His cock stuck forth, as hard as MarkÕs was
beneath the table and nearly as big. ÒThis is Jeff,Ó Kathy said to Mark.
And a moment later the boy introduced himself by jutting his penis right
into MarkÕs face.
ÒHey!Ó Mark said, frowning.
ÒComplete obedience, dear,Ó Kathy said to Mark. ÒI want you to suck
him.Ó
ÒWhat?!Ó Mark cried. It was an inauspicious use of his mouth, for by
opening it in shocked surprise he allowed the boy to shove his cock in.
ÒMmmmf! Mmmmf!Ó Mark cried, feeling the boy jutting heavily upon
his tongue, half-stilling its movement with the weight of his organ.
ÒSuck,Ó Kathy told Mark. ÒWe are going to have a grand celebration.
When you cum Jeff will hopefully cum at the same time, and then you may
get up and go to the bathroom.Ó
His eyes wide with disbelief, feeling an increasing urgency in his
ass, not to mention in his balls and his dick, Mark began to suck the young
man. It was not something he did willingly; he wanted to bite the damn
bastard for doing this to him. But he also longed to fuck Kathy; if this was
what the woman demanded in a female-depleted world, he would do it.
Above him the young man gasped; he was feeling the effects of MarkÕs
mouth upon his penis as surely as Mark was feeling Beth on his balls and
Sheila, under the table, on his dick.
ÒI want you both to try to get the cock you have down into your
throat,Ó Kathy instructed Sheila and Mark. The older manÕs eyes bulged
wider; he felt as if he were gorging himself on this young manÕs prick as
the boy shoved himself deeper. ÒThatÕs it. ThatÕs it, keep it going,Ó Kathy
said, pleased by what she saw. She bent down and checked on Sheila,
under the table, and then straightened herself and ran her hands through
MarkÕs hair again, putting her other hand on JeffÕs behind. Then she let go
of Mark and got behind Jeff. She told the boy to open his legs. He did; she
knelt down and put her mouth to his balls.
They remained locked in this five-person embrace for several
minutes. Although at first reluctant, Mark gradually found the pressure of
the boyÕs cock in his mouth and pushing gradually into his throat
enjoyable. He had wanted sex, and with little Sheila down below sucking
his dick he was getting sex in spades, albeit not quite as he had imagined.
Suddenly he felt himself unable to hold back his pleasure any longer. He
burst forth, surprising Sheila, who had failed to put the condom on him.
Nonetheless the girl obediently sucked him, and he gave her his all. The
sound of her urgent sucking brought off Jeff; he spurted into MarkÕs mouth
and the older man did his best, despite his misgivings, to swallow down
the boy like Sheila was swallowing him. When they were finished they
parted, mouths leaving bodies, Sheila getting up wet-lipped from under
the table. Kathy kissed SheilaÕs lips and licked them clean. Beth did the
same for Mark, licking JeffÕs cum off his mouth.
ÒThat was delicious,Ó Kathy said, when it was over, though neither
she nor Beth had gotten much, or Sheila for that matter. Mark guessed
from the sounds the girls had made while they were locked in their five-
person embrace that they had frigged themselves, between their legs and
under their towels. But they needed more, from the flustered looks on
their faces, and Jeff, turning to Kathy, said,
ÒShall I eat you maÕam?Ó
ÒYes!Ó Kathy said. She laid down on the floor and upped the base of
her towel, exposing her cunt. ÒTake Mark to the toilet, girls,Ó she said.
ÒOkay,Ó Beth and Sheila answered, in their high childÕs voices. They
helped Mark up off the table. His cock slipped up from the hole. It dripped
with satisfaction, putting a white stain on the white sheet. Smiling, Mark
let the two little girls lead him from the room. Behind him, Jeff put his
eager mouth to KathyÕs cunt; the woman screamed.
30
----------------------- Dreamgirls! -----------------------
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