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Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
Bodily Functions
Chapter One
He saw a female in the distance. Two, in fact. The sun was setting
through the trees behind him, its rays shafting between the branches,
touching the two young women that were about twenty feet in front of
him, over by the club, next to the liquor store. He adjusted his coat, felt
it stretch a little at the back of his neck, made sure it was hanging loose
in front of him, both buttons unbuttoned. He didn't want to look strait-
laced.
He started across the street. A car honked. He turned his head
quickly to the right. Too late he realized he hadn't checked for traffic
before crossing. He plunged forward, and was aware of one of the females
on the sidewalk he was trying to cross to looking briefly in his direction.
His confidence ebbed, even as he managed to dodge the oncoming car. He
had looked foolish, he feared, like some eager little boy running into the
street. Not for a ball, of course, but for pussy.
When he got to the other side he did not walk up immediately to the
two women as he'd planned. He stalled in front of the liquor store, looking
at the bottles displayed in the window. Again he was aware of one of the
females standing in front of the club looking in his direction. He pulled at
his coat again. Then he wondered if they would think he was some kind of
a well-dressed wino, lingering like that in front of a window full of
nothing but liquor. He turned away from the window, toward the two
women. They were more incredible than he had realized, seeing them from
the other side of the street. One was too young, of course, only 12 at the
most. A cute little waif with breasts already pushing into her blouse,
testing its limits, sure to be replaced in the next week or month because
she had grown too big for it. Walking closer, he wondered why the girl
hadn't already gotten a bigger blouse. Her buttons seemed to be straining.
He gulped when he saw that the top two had already burst. Then he
realized they had not burst, they had been unbuttoned, apparently so the
blouse would fit. Within the opened halves of her blouse her tit flesh
showed, bare and white and delicate and jiggling a little as she breathily
said something to her friend, the older one, the one he was already making
bedroom plans for.
With an embarrassed gulp he wondered if the older one, now looking
in his direction again, had caught his eyes dwelling on her 12-year-old
friend's tits. He flushed. He didn't want to be thought of that way. Or did
he, some devilish voice asked, deep in his mind, in a place he hadn't
previously known existed. He remarked to himself that he'd never seen
such a young girl with such a big pair of tits. What was she doing standing
in front of a club, as if about to go in, and wearing a blouse that had
obviously become too small for her?
He stepped up to the two young women, the younger one with the
too-tight blouse and the older one. Both were dressed in black boots. The
younger's came up to her knees and the older's, a bit too fetchingly for so
early in the evening, stretched up beyond her knees, capturing her thighs in
the black leather. His pulse raced as he realized how wonderfully sexy
both females looked. If they had not been standing in front of club they
would surely have been mistaken for streetwalkers. Instead they looked
simply like they were waiting for someone, a boyfriend probably. He
pulled at his jacket again, wondering if he should say anything to them.
Sometimes on previous occasions, just as he was about to speak to a
woman, her boyfriend would appear behind him. He turned a little, not
wanting to embarrass himself that way, looking to see if anyone was
behind him. He saw only two fat middle-aged tourists.
"Hi," Greg managed to get out, turning back toward the females in
front of him. He looked at the older one. He tried not to look down at the
younger one's breasts, which loomed even more fetchingly now that he was
standing right before her, well-placed to gaze down into their virgin
white loveliness.
"Hello," the older female answered.
"Hi!" a sweet little girl voice bubbled up from the 12-year-old with
the very tight blouse.
"My name's Greg," Greg told them. "Are you going into the club?"
"No, I'm afraid not," the older female replied. "We're waiting for a
cab."
"Oh," Greg said. He glanced up the street, for no particular reason,
then looked at the older girl again, who wore a short black leather
miniskirt along with a black leather jacket, the sleeves a bit too long,
capturing her hands, letting only her fingers show. Greg saw fishnet
mittens on the ends of her fingers that stuck out from the too-long
sleeves of her jacket. Fishnet stockings sheathed her thighs above the
gripping leather of her above-the-knee boots. Incongruously, despite all
her black leather, the woman, who was a blonde, had her hair in an
innocent pony tail. Whenever she moved the ponytail bobbed a little, at
the back of her head, making her look like a schoolgirl that had just
emerged from some leather-padded dungeon. Beside her the 12-year-old
had long golden hair that wreathed her face. It fell over her shoulders, her
hair so copious and lustrous and full that it partially hid both cheeks of
her face, and smothered her frail shoulders. But though modesty might
have suggested that she let her hair fall over the ripe display she was
making with her breasts, she instead had made sure that it did not,
sweeping it from her shoulders down her back, where it hung below her
waist. Her navel showed under the bottom of her blouse, for the garment,
in addition to utterly failing in its primary mission of covering her
breasts, was too short to hide her belly. The flat expanse of flesh drew
Greg's eyes. With a conscious effort he looked away, back at the older
girl, his mind noting that the little one was wearing fringed jeans, shorts,
that were cut so high on her legs that he thought he saw a glimpse of her
white panties. Unlike her older friend, she did not wear fishnet stockings.
Instead her white thighs gleamed with complete nudity, trim and lovely,
down to her childish knees and then, where her calves began, slipping
inside her boots.
Who were these girls? Greg wondered. What had possessed them to
stand out in front of a club at sunset, dressed so daringly? They were
lucky this was the heart of Waikiki, with clubs ranged all up and down the
street, and passersby in swimsuits or bulging out of their tourist clothes.
"Here it is now," the older girl said. She gave a small wave, looking
past Greg. He turned. A car pulled up. It was black, sleek, a fine
automobile. Greg wasn't sure of the make. It looked old, but well-
preserved, all polished and shiny. He angled his head to see if there was a
make written with chrome letters somewhere, but didn't see anything.
"Would you like to join us?" a lilting feminine voice asked. Greg realized
it belonged to the older girl. She was speaking to him. He turned toward
her, then back toward the car. His own car was parked across the street.
He didn't need a ride, wasn't planning to go anywhere, except perhaps into
the club they were standing in front of. But something told him to say
"yes" anyway. He was certain he would never see these wonderful girls
again if he said no. Waikiki was a crowded place these days. You never
saw the same person twice, and most, being from the mainland or Europe
or Asia, only stayed a few days.
"Sure," Greg said. He hoped the girl wouldn't ask where he was going.
He looked into her eyes, saw something there. She seemed to be telling
him that she already knew he didn't need a ride. He blushed a little.
"If you'll open the door," the girl told him.
"Oh. Yes," Greg said. He hurried to the side of the black automobile.
He opened the back door, on the right hand side. The older girl urged the
younger one forward. She got into the car first, followed by her older
friend. Greg was about to close the door on the two of them when he
realized he'd agreed to come along for the ride. He had no idea where they
were going but he hopped in anyway, feeling himself grow large in his
pants, wondering if this might lead to something special, with these two
impossibly sexy females.
Not the younger one, of course, he reminded himself. She was only
12.
"What brings you to Waikiki?" the older one asked Greg, when he was
settled in the car beside her and had taken off his jacket, exposing a t-
shirt with a short ragged hem that a gay friend had told him was in style.
The car pulled away from the curb. Beyond the older female he heard a
bubble pop. He realized the little one had put gum in her mouth.
"I, uh, live here," Greg answered.
"Oh really. So do we," the older one said. "We just arrived, in fact,
and will be staying for awhile at least."
"That's nice," Greg said.
"What is your name?" the older girl asked.
"Greg," he told her. "Greg Johnson."
"Mine's Colette," the older girl said. She turned and pointed to the
younger girl, who was busy blowing a pink bubble. "This is Katy."
"Hi," Greg said to the younger girl. Again he was aware of her
breasts, jutting forth under the pink bubble she was blowing with her red
beestung lips. He thought he could almost catch a glimpse of pink nipple.
Quickly he raised his eyes, looking away, glancing again at the older girl
sitting beside him. "Where are you from? I mean, before you came here?"
Greg asked Colette. Her large lovely eyes fluttered their long lashes,
darkened by makeup.
"We're from another planet," Colette told Greg, as easily as if she
might have been remarking on the redness of the sunset that glowed at
them from between two buildings they were passing.
"Huh?" Greg asked. The sun had been bright for a moment, the low
rays darting into his eyes. "What did you say?" he asked.
"We're from another planet," Colette said again, and this time the
sun was not in Greg's eyes and he realized he hadn't imagined her
impossible answer. He laughed.
"That's nice," Greg said. "What brings you to Hawaii?" he asked. It
was the obvious next question, even for an extraterrestrial.
"We're looking for a sperm donor," Colette said.
"A what?" Greg asked. Again the sun was in his eyes. He blinked. He
felt a warm, delicate mittened set of fingers touch the back of his left
hand.
"A sperm donor," Colette said. She indicated the girl blowing
bubbles beside her with a turning nod of her head. "For little Katy," she
added. "It is time for her to be impregnated."
"That's-- that's interesting," Greg said. He felt the mittened fingers
work their way up the back of his hand to his wrist. They squeezed him a
little there, as if testing the resilience of his skin.
"We couldn't copulate while we were in interstellar travel, so my
time came and went," Colette said quietly to Greg. "However now that
we've landed, Katy here is just at the perfect age, and ready to be
inseminated." Colette smiled, as Katy glanced briefly over at Greg, then
blew another bubble. "I hope I'm not being too technical for you," Colette
said to Greg.
"No," Greg answered, but he wasn't sure what his answer meant. No,
she wasn't being too "technical," as he put it, or no he wasn't going to fuck
the little girl blowing bubbles?
The fingers touching Greg's wrist began drawing his hand backward
along his torso. Greg looked down, and suddenly saw Colette's other hand
pull a gleaming metal ring from the small purse she'd been carrying, and
had since laid in her lap. In an instant Greg realized he was looking at the
first of a pair of rings. Handcuffs! He felt his wrist pulled back behind
himself. He leaned forward a little to accommodate what this beautiful
girl seemed to be asking of him. Wordlessly Colette took the handcuffs
and snapped one of the rings over Greg's left wrist, beneath the long
sleeve of his jacket.
"What are you doing?" Greg asked. "Are you a cop?" he said to the
young woman who had just so deftly and swiftly urged a handcuff onto his
left wrist.
"No," Colette breathed. Her breath was sweet in Greg's face. He
could smell her perfume as she leaned in toward him. She reached with
delicate grace for his other wrist, on the other side of his body,
stretching her leather-sleeved arm across his lap. He was aware of a
brief pressure on his now bulging groin. It was her arm. With her left
mittened hand she grasped his free hand. She pushed his hand back. In
response he leaned forward again, which made her arm rest more firmly on
his groin. It was a wonderful feeling, her thin leather-clad arm pressing
down on his eager cock. He let her get his right arm back behind himself.
He heard a snap, felt the sudden grip of metal on his right wrist.
Instinctively he pulled his hands apart. Except, now that the other ring
had closed on his other wrist, he could no longer draw his hands in front of
himself. He was trapped! His hands were handcuffed, back behind himself.
Greg sighed. He looked at Colette. He leaned back in the seat, aware of
the softness of the leather interior of the car, which now pressed against
both his elbows, for they were stuck behind his back, as his hands were.
"Is this some kind of a joke?" Greg asked Colette. She smiled. She
lowered her head to his lap. He heard a bubble pop. It was Katy. He
glanced briefly at her. She was taking the whole scene in with childish
indifference, as if it might have been some cartoon playing out in front of
her. With rising excitement Greg felt Colette's face press against the
bulge of his groin. Her lips opened. Her tongue extended, felt between the
flapped halves of his fly. A moment later the tab of his metal zipper was
in her mouth, his pants zipper, gripped by her delicate white teeth which
bared a little within her lovely red lips. There was a tug. It was Greg's
fly! Colette unzipped him with her mouth. Then her tongue was at work
again, intruding within his opened zipper. Of course she immediately came
upon the bulge of his underpants, where his cock, coiled like an aroused
snake, lay waiting. She licked the cotton of his underpants and then dug
with her tongue between its flapped halves. The wetness of her tongue
found Greg's penis flesh. He groaned. The young woman added her
mittened fingers to the work at hand and he was released from the
confinement of his trousers. Anxiously, as Colette gave a quiet gasp down
by his lap, Greg looked up at the eyes of the car's driver. They were
looking at him! He felt the cool air of the car on his dick, standing up
straight and tall now, throbbing, Colette's breath arousing it further,
stretching it forth to its full 10 inches in length. With mind-blowing
shock, Greg realized that the driver's eyes bore makeup; they were
beautiful eyes, the eyes of a woman, a woman the same age as Colette,
which was no more than 19.
"What-- what do you want with me?" Greg gasped, as Colette sat up
and let Greg's cock embarrass him by being completely exposed to the eyes
of the driver, Colette's pretty head no longer blocking any part of it. With
a mittened hand Colette reached out and gently stroked Greg's pulsing
member.
"I told you. We're looking for a sperm donor," Colette said to Greg.
He glanced at the 12-year-old girl, who was producing another bubble with
her lips, her eyes still showing no hint of embarrassment at what Greg
was now offering in the back seat of this car; himself, his rod, his tool,
his jutting thrusting organ of love.
"You-- you want me to fuck a 12-year-old girl?" Greg said, looking
at Colette, aware of the driver's eyes still looking at him through the car's
rearview mirror.
"Yes," Colette said. "As I explained, my time has passed. But she is
of age."
"Not-- not where I come from," Greg answered.
"Where you come from is irrelevant," Colette said. Her hand stroked
Greg's cock with delicate grace, cat-like, seemingly examining him even
as she kept him at full arousal. "All that matters is the health of your
sperm," Colette said. She smiled at Greg, keeping her hand on his penis,
moving it up and down with the softest, most mind-blowing touches, the
silk of her mittens driving him nuts. "Of course you must first survive our
tests," Colette added.
"Huh?" Greg asked, his mouth dry, his face blushing as Colette and
the bubble-blowing Katy and the driver of the car all looked at him, at his
penis, which he was now incapable of hiding in any way, for his hands
were handcuffed behind him.
"Your cock must be tortured. To test its ability to survive," Colette
said. Gently she squeezed Greg's massive shaft. An oozing of pre-cum
appeared at the tip of Greg's bulbous cock head. "Oh, try not to drip. This
car cost us a lot. Mistress will be pissed if your sperm gets all over the
seat," Colette said to Greg. She fished in her pocket book. She produced a
handkerchief. Gently she wiped the crown of Greg's penis.
"This is-- this is something I've never done before," Greg said with a
kind of eager desperation, as he saw the stain he left in the handkerchief
that wiped his cock. Colette returned the handkerchief to her purse.
"You've not had sex before?" Colette asked, pity seemingly showing
in her lovely eyes. Beyond her another bubble expanded from Katy's lips.
"No. I mean, yes," Greg said. "But I've-- I've never met
extraterrestrials before," Greg said. "Or had my cock tortured." He
watched as Colette drew a ribbon from her purse. It was black. She
reached over to his lap and unfastened his pants more completely. Without
showing any embarrassment she reached into the depths of Greg's
underpants. His balls bulged into her groping mittened hand.
"Oh my! You're full," Colette exclaimed, feeling Greg's balls. "No
wonder you're dripping." Colette worked Greg's pants down off his waist,
along with his underpants. Like O in the Story of O he heard himself gasp
as his naked buttocks came into contact with the leather of the seat. It
was cool to the touch of his skin. His balls weighed heavily on the seat.
Colette reached under his heavy sac and tied the black ribbon around them,
near the spot where they connected with the rest of his body. She tied the
ribbon tightly enough to make Greg moan.
"There. That might help prevent you from cumming, or from
dripping," Colette said to Greg. Both he and she watched as another
droplet of his precum escaped from the tip of his cock. Colette tutted and
drew out her handkerchief again. She wiped him, then put the cloth back
again into her purse. "When's the last time you came?" Colette asked Greg.
"A- A week ago," Greg stammered. He gazed into her eyes, which
watched him with clinical interest. Beyond Katy remained impassive,
blowing her bubbles. The driver blinked, her eyes again watching him in
the rearview mirror.
"You might want to tell your driver to watch the road instead of me,"
Greg said. Colette smiled.
"She's been thoroughly trained in the handling of your primitive mode
of transportation," Colette answered.
"Why-- why do you want me?" Greg asked Colette, as her hands again
fished in her purse. He wondered what those busy mittened fingers of hers
would bring out next. A moment later he knew. It was a tube of lubricant.
Carefully she aimed it over his cock and squirted. Some hit his thighs, a
little seemed to get on the leather seat between his legs. Colette
squirted again. Greg strained his legs, which were trapped by his pants
and underwear which was pulled down to his knees. He felt the lubricant
roll in large wet droplets and streaks down the flesh of his throbbing
cock. Colette took out her handkerchief and wiped up the little bit of
lubricant that had hit the leather seat. Then she wiped Greg's thigh. But
she did not wipe his cock. That, wet now with what she'd squirted on it,
she spread all up and down his shaft with her mittened fingers. She made
sure his cockhead was thoroughly coated too, mingling the pre-cum that he
oozed forth with the lubricant. When he was wet as a dog in a rainstorm,
but with lubricant instead of water, Colette put the tube back into her
purse. She wiped her mittened fingers on her handkerchief. Then she gave
Greg a new surprise by taking a little whip out of her purse.
"I'm sorry," Colette said. "But I have to do this. It is the first part
of the torture you will have to undergo to test your manliness."
"I can't believe this is happening," Greg sighed. His balls were
boiling. He doubted the ribbon tied around them would hold him back if
this cock-playing were to continue much longer. He bit his lip as he felt
the little whip dart against his flesh. He blinked. That little fucker hurt!
He watched as a red line appeared on the shaft of himself, across the skin
of his tool, where the whip had connected with his manhood. "Stop!" Greg
gasped.
"But we're just getting started," Colette said. She hit him again.
Greg winced. He looked at Katy, a hint of pleading in his gaze. She blew
another bubble, still as disinterested as if he might have been some boring
re-run cartoon.
Snap! The little whip went into action again, leaving a third bright
red line across Greg's thick upstanding dick.
"Where- where are you taking me?" Greg asked, desperate to get
Colette's mind off applying the whip to his penis.
"To our abode," Colette answered, and struck Greg a fourth time.
"Stop! Stop that!" Greg moaned. His cock felt as if it was on fire
now. In addition to the whip strokes, the lubricant Colette had applied to
him was doing something to his skin. Heating it. Greg twisted on the
leather of the car seat, aware of the contact of his naked buttocks with
the implacable leather. The leather of the whip struck him a fifth time.
Tears sprang involuntarily to his eyes. Colette looked into his face.
"You have a fine physical form. I hope you are man enough to endure
this," Colette said to Greg. She gave him another blow with her whip.
Greg's cock quivered. That had been an especially vigorous stroke and he
felt a tear roll down his right cheek.
"I-- I never agreed to this," Greg said. "I'm not about to fuck a 12-
year-old girl," he said.
"That is not an answer I want to hear from you," Colette said to Greg.
She gave him another shockingly hard stroke of her whip. Greg's cock
wobbled like a tuning fork. He offered a brief, short scream. At the same
time he was aware of an excitement in his ribbon-bound balls. Good God!
Somehow, despite the pain, he was coming close to an orgasm!
"Stop! Stop! You're going to make me cum!" Greg pleaded with the
lovely leather-clad woman. Katy popped another bubble.
"Mmmm, perhaps you aren't as suitable as I'd hoped," Colette said to
Greg.
"I-- I'm going to shoot all over your seat if you don't stop," Greg
gasped. He looked at Colette, his eyes nearly wild.
"What a pity if our trip into town was wasted," Colette said. "Still, I
think you can still be a good candidate for Katy, if you're willing to be
trained. Hold your breath," Colette said to Greg. He obeyed. A moment
later his breath exploded from his lungs as Colette struck him again with
her whip.
"Eeeyah! Stop that!" Greg told the woman.
"Are you having trouble handling this?" Colette asked Greg, a look of
pity coming into her eyes. He stared at her with exasperation.
"Yes! What do you think?" Greg said. His cock felt like it was about
to burst into flames now, all red-marked and with the lotion hot upon him.
Colette looked at the driver, whose eyes were visible in the mirror.
"Pull over. Let's get a cold drink to dip him into," Colette said.
"What? What are you doing?" Greg asked frantically. He felt and
watched as the car pulled into a gas station. Suddenly they were parked
amidst people who were getting out of their cars, going inside to pay,
woman and children and men, with Greg sitting there with his cock all
exposed, in the back seat of the car. Colette handed Katy something from
her purse. The girl jumped out of her side of the car. Greg thought he
caught a glimpse of a preschool age girl gazing though the opened car door
at his penis. Then the door was closed, and he was protected again, sort
of, the doors shielding him but the unsmoked windows offering a view of
himself to anyone willing to turn and look inside the fine old automobile.
Several agonizing minutes passed. Miraculously, nobody actually
saw what Greg was offering with such throbbing ferocity there on the
back seat of the car. Katy returned. She got back in again. In her hand
was a bag of candy, along with a Big Gulp soda. She handed the Big Gulp to
Colette, after first taking a sip out of it. Colette took a sip too, then
placed it down between Greg's legs.
"Aren't you going to give me a drink?" Greg asked, suddenly aware of
how dry his mouth felt.
"It's for your penis," Colette answered. Taking his hard shaft in her
mittened hand, she yanked him downward. It was difficult but she
managed to pull him down far enough to tilt the cup toward him and plunge
his erection in among the iced soda. Some spilled onto the car's expensive
rugged floor.
"Oh!" Colette said. Momentarily she released Greg. He sprang upright
again, wet with soda. She looked at the spill she'd made, then sighed and
grabbed him again. Angling him down once more, she again plunged him
into the Big Gulp. Greg shuddered. The sudden feeling of coldness
engulfing his dick did little to stop him from wanting to cum. Who were
these girls, and why were they playing such awful games with his penis?
He bit his lip. None of his friends back at the dorm would believe what
was happening to him, here in this fine old automobile, with this 19-year-
old female and her 12-year-old friend, the driver again glancing back at
Greg with her pretty eyes as he dented his lower lip more completely with
his teeth, desperate not to lose himself in the drink.
"There. Is that better?" Colette asked, taking Greg out of the icy
wetness. He again was allowed to offer himself upright, throbbing there
in the cool air conditioned air of the car, gritting his teeth against
cumming.
"I'm-- I'm very close to spilling," Greg gasped.
"That's part of the test, of course," Colette said to Greg. Suddenly
her whip was out again. It hit him. He cried out.
"Does it help if I punish you a little more?" Colette asked Greg.
"No!" Greg shouted.
"Mmmm. Keep your voice down," Colette told him. "I'll tell you
what," Colette said. Gently she stroked his dick with her mittened
fingers. "If you cum," she said, squeezing him gently, "I'll have mistress
put a dildo up your ass. As punishment. There. Does that help you in
holding yourself back?" Colette asked Greg.
"No," Greg said, and shivered as he did, for the girl's mittened
fingers were beguilingly soft against his flesh, as if coaxing him to offer
his seed. Next to Colette, Katy had opened the bag of candy. it was a bag
of pop rocks. Katy offered Greg a look at her tongue, opening her mouth to
him, showing him the rocks sizzling and bursting on her tongue.
"Want some?" Katy asked Greg.
"No thank you," Greg answered.
"If you're to be her sperm donor I think you two should get to know
each other a little," Colette said. She took the bag of pop rocks from Katy.
She told Greg to open his mouth. He gaped at her. She lifted the penis
whip. Immediately he opened his mouth, if only to take her mind off the
whip. Colette emptied some of the candy into Greg's mouth, onto his
tongue. He felt the rocks begin to explode. His balls were desperate to do
the same. He had to strain down within himself to keep from jetting forth
as Katy's candy burst in his mouth.
"Good, huh?" Katy asked him, her eyes now bright and inquisitive.
"Yessss," Greg answered.
"Want some more?" Colette asked Greg. He saw her fingers playing
on the handle of the penis whip.
"Okay," Greg said, even though the rocks seemed garishly sweet to
him, not exactly what he'd planned to put into himself this evening.
Colette emptied more pop rocks into Greg's mouth. His cheeks quivered
with the exploding pebbles. It was too much, she given him more than he
could handle. He squinted against the difficulty of the whole thing. Katy
giggled. A soft mittened hand reached out and touched Greg's cock.
"There, there. We'll be at our abode soon," Colette said. "Then we
can show you off to the other women. They'll be pleased that Katy and I
found such an excellent male organ."
They pulled up in front of a big fine old house half-hidden behind
spreading oak trees. The driver turned the car into a driveway. Gravel
crunched under the tires as the car pulled up the unpaved drive. The gravel
made Greg's cock shiver a little. When the car came to a stop Katy opened
the side door and hopped out. Greg watched as Colette opened her purse
and drew out a small leather collar. Wordlessly she wrapped the collar
around the mid-point of Greg's 10-inch-dick.
"What are you doing?" Greg gasped. He felt a renewed desire to spill
at the kinky feel of the leather collar binding him. Colette took a dog
leash out of her purse and attached it to the collar she'd buckled around
him. When Greg was collared and leashed, she used this new device to tug
him out of the car behind her. What could he do? He had to follow. A
moment later, to his intense embarrassment, he found himself standing
with his pants down around his calves on the smooth clipped lawn of the
house, being hastened across it, Katy leading the way with her bag of pop
rocks, Colette urging Greg along, giving little heed to the fact that he
could barely walk with his pants binding his legs.
"Hurry. Do you want passersby to see you?" Colette asked Greg,
turning now to look back at the man she was pulling along with a cock
leash. Greg was taller than Colette, she came only up to his chest, but his
height provided no advantage now, with his legs imprisoned and his hands
still handcuffed behind his back. He was aware of the car's driver behind
him, her feet crunching on the gravel drive and then passing onto the well-
groomed lawn. Suddenly he heard a sharp slithering sound, like a snake
uncoiling. A moment later a sharp pain assailed his behind. It was the
driver! He turned and looked at her. She was as lovely as Colette, dressed
in a leather chauffeur's outfit, her blonde hair drawn back into an
efficient bun beneath a leather driver's cap. In her hand was a whip. She
was drawing it back in toward herself after hitting Greg with it. The
whip was long, it dangled down onto the lawn.
"Go," the driver said to Greg. There was a commanding look in her
pretty eyes. Again she let fly her whip, again it struck Greg on his
buttocks, its sharp tip nearly connecting with his heavy hanging balls.
"Eeeyaugh!" Greg gasped. He was aware of traffic passing on the
street, beyond the spreading low-hanging trees. Had anyone seen this
display he was making? He didn't know. He found himself taken stumbling
up to the front door of the big old house, up onto its stone porch. Katy
knocked on the door. A moment later it opened. A mature woman, lovely
and dressed in black, answered. She peered out, saw Greg. A smile spread
across her lips.
"Come in, please, girls. I see you've been successful," the woman
said.
Greg was led into a foyer. It was lit by candles. He saw rich
brocaded chairs in a room beyond, which seemed to be a living room. He
passed a small cherry wood table that held fresh-cut roses in a crystal
vase.
"Try not to drip on the rug," was the first thing the mature woman
said to Greg as he was brought into the house. She was clad in a black
high-collared dress. She had an impressive bosom but unlike Katy's ripe
display it was all buttoned up within her gown. Long sleeves hid her arms,
right down almost to her fingertips. The ends of them were ruffled, as
was the base of her skirt, which dragged sensuously on the floor. Greg
realized that the woman's hands were clad in black leather gloves. When
he had been brought into the living room, where a fire murmured low in a
fireplace despite the 70 degree weather outside, the woman turned and
grasped his cock in a no-nonsense way with her right hand. "What have we
here?" she asked. She had never looked Greg in the face and now she
concentrated with great interest on the manhood Greg was involuntarily
displaying.
"It's-- It's my penis," Greg said in a voice that sounded
unaccountably weak in this large well-furnished room.
"I am aware of the name you give to your sexual equipment," the
woman replied. "I mean what have we here in terms of quality? Hmmm.
It's a nice well-developed size. Let me feel the balls," she said, and
reached with her other hand under Greg's dick to hold, on her fingertips,
the weight of his large hanging sac. "Mmmm. Nice and full," the woman
said. She let go of Greg and looked at Colette and Katy and the driver.
"You have done well," the woman said to the three females. "If he can
survive our tests he will be used to inseminate Katy."
"Mmmm. Goody," Katy said, and put the remainder of her bag of pop
rocks into her mouth.
"What is that?" the mature woman asked.
"Candy," Colette told the woman.
"I see," the woman answered. She turned back to Greg. Still she did
not look into his face, but rather at his penis, which he was offering with
acute impoliteness in this otherwise quite graciously appointed living
room.
"Has this spurted yet in your presence?" the woman asked Colette
and the other girls.
"No, mistress. He managed to hold himself in," Colette said.
"Good," the woman called mistress answered. At last she looked up
into Greg's face, which showed strain as she expertly handled him with
her leather gloves, stroking him now with both hands, feeling his
hardness, seemingly measuring his pulse which quivered fleshily in her
hands. "It is important that you not cum unless you are told to," the
woman said to Greg. "Control is something I insist upon in our male
subjects. We have not had any for a long time, so perhaps my ways have
become a little rusty. However if necessary I assure you I can still
remember how to shove a cock up a man's ass."
"Is- Is this real?" Greg heard himself stammer, as his ribbon-bound
balls trembled on the brink of release. The older woman who was holding
his penis in her hands frowned at him.
"What a silly question," the woman said. "Of course it's real." Greg
looked around. He looked back at the woman, biting his lip as he felt
himself tremble in her hands.
"Are you-- from outer space?" Greg asked, nearly losing himself in
the woman's gloved fingers as the words escaped his lips. "God, I wish you
wouldn't do that!" Greg added.
"Do what? Feel your organ?" the woman asked Greg. She looked
down at his 10-inch cock which she held in her hands. "I will be doing
little else in the next several days," the woman told Greg. She laughed,
still holding him. "What do you think we're interested in, your mind?" The
other girls, even Katy, laughed along with her at her remark.
"I-- I'm going to cum if you keep handling me," Greg said in a voice
that sounded almost childishly desperate.
"What? All over the rug?" the mistress said. Finally she released
Greg, leaving him to quiver nakedly before her.
"What-- what is going to happen to me?" Greg asked, and blanched.
The question sounded like something a young girl might say in some porno
flick.
"You're going to fuck, after you've been tested through torture," the
woman named mistress answered. Greg turned his head. He looked at 12-
year-old Katy, who seemed disappointed that her bag of pop rocks was now
empty.
"I'm-- I'm not fucking a little girl," Greg told the woman with the
leather gloves who seemed to want to reach out and take hold of him
again, restraining herself only to keep him from suddenly spending on her
carpet.
"You will do as you're told," mistress answered Greg. "Your human
ways of doing things don't apply in this house. Katy must be inseminated.
She is of age. You will thrust this healthy young cock into her child's belly
so that our race can continue." Greg couldn't believe what he was hearing.
He frowned. His face reddened. He looked at the woman, at Colette, at the
driver who was still holding the whip that had struck his behind on the
lawn.
"I'd be happy to fuck a beautiful woman like yourself, or Colette,
or..." Greg began, but the woman named mistress cut him off.
"We are not in ovulation mode," the woman answered. "We are only
capable of sex. We cannot conceive. Our time passed while we were
spacebound. You will fuck Katy." Greg's frown and blush deepened.
"I told you--" Greg began. Suddenly the driver's whip struck his
behind. He howled, his hips writhed forward, offering his cock
involuntarily to the leather gloved woman's hands in front of him, touching
her hands, which she used to clasp him.
"Your penis belongs to us now," the woman named mistress told Greg.
"We will use it as we see fit. As I see fit," she corrected, lifting her chin
slightly, her eyes glaring at him with authority. "Your body belongs to us
now," she said. "You have been kidnapped by aliens, as I think your society
would phrase it. But please don't make things more difficult for yourself
by resisting," she added, seeing him wince at the pain the driver's whip
had put in his ass. "We are not here to hurt you, beyond the tests required
to determine your suitability for mating. And we have no desire to use
you, except sexually. It is your sexual parts we are interested in. The
rest of you, your mind and body, are simply inconvenient attachments. We
will do our best to those parts of you comfortable. However your penis
and balls now belong to us, totally and completely. Try not even to think
of them, beyond holding yourself in so that you don't cum prematurely.
They will be worked, and worked hard, and there is nothing we can do
about that, except to tell you what must be done. You will fuck Katy
repeatedly, to ensure that she is properly inseminated. And you will be
used to keep our own sexual organs healthy, required to fuck each of us
however many times we deem it necessary to prepare us for our next long
space journey, when we will once again be required to live in abstinence."
The woman gave Greg's cock a reassuring squeeze with her leather clad
hands. "Don't worry, young man. I'm sure you're up to the tasks that are
ahead of you. I believe the girls have found an excellent specimen. There
is nothing wrong with doing an honest day's work, especially when you
have no choice in the matter anyway."
"This can't be real," Greg croaked.
"Think of it as a dream if you must," the woman answered him,
holding his cock possessively in her hands. "Whatever it takes to get the
job done. Personally, I would think some of your species would be
delighted to fuck a healthy little girl like Katy, who is so obviously ready
to bear a baby. But if you have reservations, just close your eyes and let
us do the rest." She looked at Greg, the light of command in her eyes.
"Would you like a blindfold?" she asked Greg.
"You mean, so I don't see this 12-year-old girl, when I fuck her?"
Greg asked.
"Exactly," the woman named mistress answered. "Then you will
simply feel a tight wet cunt, and since you'll be fucking all of us, perhaps
you will be unable to distinguish one of us from another, although of
course Katy is a virgin so I suppose you will feel yourself breaking her
hymen."
"I-- I don't need a blindfold," Greg answered. He blinked. "But I need
something else," he added.
"What's that?" mistress asked.
"I need to go to the bathroom," Greg said. He licked his tongue within
his mouth. "And I need a drink," Greg said.
"Of course," mistress replied.
So that the functioning of his cock might be examined in action, he
was required to pee into a large glass jar that mistress held for him in
the living room, Katy getting it from the kitchen. As he peed, Colette
placed a cup to his lips. He drank gratefully. Then suddenly, to his horror,
his eyes widening as he peed, he realized what he was drinking from. It
was the Big Gulp cup, from the gas station! Greg spluttered, pushing the
cup away with a thrust of his chin, his pee nearly jetting beyond the rim
of the glass jar to spritz on the carpet.
"What's the matter?" mistress snapped, adjusting the jar as Greg's
cock jerked, barely containing him within its confines so that he wouldn't
wet the rug.
"That's the cup my penis was put into!" Greg shouted.
"Of course it is," Colette purred. She offered the cup to Greg's mouth
again, as mistress's face gave him a quizzical look. "Drink," Colette said.
'Your penis is healthy and fine. There's nothing wrong with it."
"Drink!" Mistress snapped at Greg. "I don't see what you're
complaining about. You treat your cock as if it's something detestable.
We've traveled 10 million light years to find something healthy and
wonderful like this."
Greg finished peeing, at the same time letting Colette pour more of
the Big Gulp drink into his mouth. When he was done the driver, who was
still holding her long whip, patted his naked behind.
"Very good," mistress said, lifting the glass container Greg had peed
into and examining it. "You produce fine pee. We shall save it as a
memento of your healthy young male body." She set the glass down on a
low coffee table, next to a vase of poinsettias. Then, reaching
inquisitively with one of her gloved hands around to Greg's bare behind,
she said, "Does not your ass make excretions also? Would you like to give
us a memento of what your behind produces?"
"I'd rather not," Greg said, in a weak voice, wincing as the woman's
finger probed intrusively between his ass cheeks, touching his anus.
"I'd like a memento," Katy offered, looking at the glass of pee. "Make
him do it, mistress."
The older woman looked up into Greg's face, her hand still working
more deeply into his bottom, testing his anal ring, pushing a little within
it despite his sudden grunt of disapproval.
"Do you feel ready to make your anal excretions?" mistress asked
Greg. His cock quivered.
"The only thing I feel ready to do is cum," Greg moaned.
"That is not permitted, until you are ordered to do it, when it is
required," mistress said to Greg.
"Ouch!" Greg said, for the woman's finger had managed to jam itself
knuckle-deep into his ass.
"We have items to help," Mistress said to Greg. She withdrew her
finger from him and patted his behind with her hand. "Come," she said,
lifting the leash which still hung from his cock. "We shall take you to our
bedroom. We can provide you with an enema bag. Put into your behind, it
should cause you to produce the bottom-excretions that Katy would like to
have as a memento of her lover."
"That's-- I'm-- God, this can't be happening!" Greg gasped, as the
leash was used to pull him along by his dick. Again the driver cracked her
whip against his ass, for his pants were still constraining his legs,
causing him to walk slowly. Greg gave a yell. He tried to cover his ass
with his hands, but the driver, behind him, ordered him to lift his hands up.
"Keep your hands off your ass," the driver barked.
"Ooooh, so commanding," Colette teased her friend.
"He is a worthless human. He should obey and not drag his feet like
that," the driver answered.
"His pants are keeping him from walking, I think," Katy offered,
looking down at Greg's legs. Mistress turned. She gazed at Greg.
"Yes," Mistress said. "It's silly to keep him half-dressed like this.
Get a knife and we'll cut this primitive vegetation off his body. It is so
unnecessary. Such a fine specimen, and he covers himself up like that."
"What-- what about you?" Greg asked, as Katy ran to the kitchen and
got a knife.
"Would you like us to strip off this vegetation also?" mistress asked
Greg.
"Yes. I mean, if I'm going to fuck you," Greg said.
"You must be tested through torture first," Mistress said. "But if it
would be pleasing to you for us to strip, we can do so." Greg looked at
Katy.
"She can stay dressed," Greg said of the 12-year-old girl. Mistress
frowned.
"There you go again, trying to direct how your cock will be used,"
Mistress told Greg. "We are still learning your human ways. I belive it is
seduction that you are actually after. That is a somewhat difficult
concept for us, but we are learning it. Our cultures are so different," she
sighed. Looking at Greg frankly, she said, "Is it seduction that you wish?"
"I-- I really just want to cum," Greg said, feeling his cock tremble,
his ribbon-wrapped balls feeling as if they were about to explode like the
pop rocks he'd eaten. "And then, frankly, I think I want to go home," Greg
added. "This is way beyond anything I was hoping to get tonight. I mean,
the guys at the dorm, when they ask me if I got lucky, what am I going to
tell them?"
"Perhaps you will be proud to tell them that you fucked Katy,"
Mistress told Greg, a hopeful look in her eyes. She stroked his cock with
her gloved fingers.
"I told you, I'm not going to be a.. a.. child rapist!" Greg shouted.
Katy, still holding her empty bag of candy, but with a knife now in her
hands too, pouted. Then she aimed the knife at Greg, stepping close to
him, and he felt the tip of it growing uncomfortably close to his balls.
"I'll cut your sperm out of you if I have to," the young child warned.
Greg felt sweat break out all over his body.
"That-- that won't be necessary," Greg said.
"Good," Mistress said. "You may cut his pants off him Katy."
Greg watched, his cock trembling, as the 12-year-old girl wielded
the knife. When she was done with his pants, leaving them in a cut-up
heap on the carpet, she rose and took childish delight in cutting him out of
his ragged hemmed shirt. Then she handed the knife to mistress, who
placed it edgewise against the shaft of Greg's penis.
"What- what are you doing?" Greg asked.
"It is a pity we can't simply cut off your necessary appendages and
leave the rest of you outside our front door," mistress said to Greg,
looking him in the eyes. "Nance was right. You are just a worthless
human. Please understand that I would happily free you from your dick if I
could, but I understand that, unlike the vegetation, it can't be re-
attached?"
"That- that's right!" Greg said.
"Very well then," mistress said. "A pity. I guess we will have to put
up with your various ignorant comments and such. Although we could try a
gag. But perhaps you wouldn't like that?"
"Not-- not really," Greg said.
"I'll tell you what," Mistress said. "If you'll agree not to cum, I and
the girls will treat you to a nice soapy bath, before your enema. Not that
we're not pleased with your form, but perhaps it would relax your mind,
which is sadly attached to your body and your penis. It would aid in the
seduction which I belive you humans find necessary for successful
procreating." She looked in Greg's eyes, expectantly. "Would you like
that?" she asked.
"What?" Greg said, still aware of the knife, and also of his now
exceedingly great need to cum.
"A soapy bath," Mistress said.
"I guess so," Greg sighed.
"We'll rub you all over, and get you nicely prepared for your date
with the enema tube, so little Katy can have her memento of your behind,
to go with the product your penis has produced," Mistress told Greg.
"If you insist," Greg said wearily, his penis trembling against the
blade of the knife.
The four women were incredible. They stripped for him, doing it
sexily in a bedroom as a tub could be heard filling with water in a
bathroom behind him. Colette went first, taking off everything slowly and
sexily, revealing little black panties under her miniskirt, finally having
Nance, who had been the car's driver, pull off her boots for her as she sat
naked on a bed. Katy went next, and despite Greg's reservations about
fucking her she proved to be a deliciously slender waif with a fine pair of
child-sized hooters, big for 12 but still short of what she would have
when she was a fully-developed woman. Then Nance undressed, laying her
whip on the bed to get out of her things. Finally mistress stripped naked,
and she was as gorgeous as the rest, despite her added years, her big
impressive bosom drawing Greg's eyes to it with mouth-watering urgency.
"There. Now we're just like you, exposed to the skin," Mistress
purred. Colette went into the bathroom and turned off the water flowing
into the tub.
"It's ready," she called.
"Mmmm. Come along, young man," Mistress winked at Greg. He was
led by his penis into the bathroom, where his cock was freed from its
leather collar. But the handcuffs were kept on his wrists. He was
assisted in stepping into the tub. It was full of hot water and bubbles. He
lowered himself. When he was sitting down, his big cock thrusting up
eagerly through the foam, the girls all giggled.
"How big he is! His cock sticks up out of the water!" Nance
exclaimed.
"I like it," Katy said. All four of the females got into the bath with
Greg. It was a tight fit. The bath had only been built for one.
"How silly you humans are. Look at this tub. Don't you like to take
group baths?" Mistress asked Greg, lifting a sponge and trailing it over his
muscular back. Katy went to work on his dick, or rather the head of it,
which was sticking up out past the bubbles. She applied a bar of soap to
it.
"Don't-- Don't get soap in my pee hole," Greg warned the girl.
"Oh. Sorry," Katy said, giving him a rather mystified look. "Don't you
ever wash it?"
"Sure," Greg said, as her little fingers clasped at him, making him
want to spend. "Just be careful, that's all."
"Okay," Katy said. She resumed rubbing him with the bar of soap,
careful not to pass it over his penis tip, where his pee hole was. He oozed
pre-cum, desperate to spurt. It would mean spurting up into the little
girl's face, but the desire to release his balls was now almost
overwhelming. Almost, but not quite, for the ribbon still helped, clasped
tightly around him. Mistress had almost undone it but then, realizing its
utility, had smiled at Greg and left it on. Now, in the water, he was very
glad of it, for Katy's hands on his penis were using him in a beguilingly
childish way, clearly unused to handling the male boner.
"She's never had a man before," Mistress whispered in Greg's ear.
"And-- and the rest of you have?" Greg asked.
"Yes," Colette said, rubbing a bar of soap up and down Greg's thigh,
beneath the bathwater. "I had a lover when I was 11. That was before our
males died. I was preparing myself for ovulation, of course, at age 12.
But then we had to leave so suddenly, and our men all died, so that was it
for me. Until now, and you," she said with obvious interest in Greg and his
suds-poking anatomy.
"I had a lover too, at 11," Nance said. "But then we left and that was
that."
"I have had many lovers," Mistress whispered behind Greg. She gave
him a gentle pinch on his neck. "Oooh, you feel so strong," she remarked in
an admiring voice. She looked over his broad shoulders at his penis.
"How's his cock holding up?" She asked Katy.
"It's still nice and stiff!" Katy replied, handling Greg with her
childish enthusiasm. Greg groaned. The bathwater was warm, the hands
rubbing him all over were sensuous, except, that is, for Katy's little
hands, which handled his prick with a completely lack of experience.
"Just relax," Mistress urged Greg. "Except for your cock, of course,"
she added.
"I-- I don't know how much longer I can hold on," Greg gasped.
"To your sperm?" Mistress asked him.
"Yesss," Greg said, and felt his loins quiver in Katy's hands.
"I told you that you must keep nice and stiff throughout your
torture," Mistress said to Greg.
"Are-- are your men able to hang on this long?" Greg asked, feeling a
deep trembling in his balls.
"We are squids in our natural form," Mistress said to Greg. "I think
that's what you'd call us."
"Yes," Nance, stroking Greg's other thigh, said.
"Our males enter us and remain for three days," Mistress said. "This
is quite unusual, this way you have of doing sex, where the male cums and
then, according to your literature, ceases to be tumescent."
"Oh," Greg said, his voice weak, Katy moving her hands from his dick,
under the water, to his balls. Childishly she squeezed his sac with both
her hands, quite tightly.
"Ouch!" Greg said. "Don't do that."
"Mmmm. You're nice and full," Katy exclaimed.
"We are entered and pumped for three days," Mistress told Greg. "Of
course all our males are dead now so it's rather pointless to discuss it.
We will learn to adapt to your human ways of sexuality." She reached her
hands down in the water to squeeze his buttocks. "I understand you
humans derive much pleasure from it?"
"Yes," Greg confessed.
The girls finished washing Greg. They got him up out of the bath and
dried him with a towel, amused at how his hard cock quivered as they
passed the towel back and forth over it. Then they led him with his balls
on the brink of spending back into the bedroom. There they set up an
enema pole, as Greg stood watching, and hung an enema bag on it. The bag
was full of fluid, just like Greg's balls. He wished dearly he could empty
himself, instead of having the bag emptied into him.
"Now, Greg, I'm going to unlock your handcuffs," Mistress said to
Greg. "I want you to behave. Obviously you're quite powerful, even if your
cock isn't as powerful as the cocks of the men of our race." She stroked
his right arm, which was muscular from lifting weights. Colette came
close and stroked his left arm, which was as powerful as his right. Katy
toyed with his dick, running her fingers up and down its length. Mistress
undid the cuffs. With a sigh of relief Greg regained the use of his arms.
But it did him little good. The girls had him kneel down on all fours, on a
soft fluffy towel spread on the floor. Then, with him watching, and
anxiously biting his lip, they lubricated the enema tube. Then they did his
ass, poking him with a finger. It was mistress' finger, and she used it
skillfully to prepare him as he knelt there with his balls and dick hanging
heavily toward the floor.
"Ouch!" Greg exclaimed, as the enema tube was pressed inbetween
his ass cheeks. It was an amazing feeling to have something shoved up his
ass. He'd never felt it before, and his ass clenched instinctively, but not
enough to keep mistress from impaling him on the tube, for she had
apparently done this before, to her lovers back home. When Greg was
plugged Katy opened the valve that would fill his bottom with fluid. The
bag on the pole began to drain. Greg's ass began to fill. Soon he was
groaning under the load being forced by gravity into his colon. "Stop!" Greg
begged.
"You can take more," Mistress said, warning Katy away as she
reached to stop the flow of the fluid. Greg waited, more of the bagful
draining into his ass. The sense of bodily fullness became overwhelming.
He not only had fluid pumped into his ass, his balls were full too, a week's
worth of sperm dying to spurt onto the bedroom's expensive carpet.
"Stop!" Greg moaned. Nance picked up her whip off the bed.
CRACK! The whip was used across Greg's bare behind, making him
gasp and cry out.
"Worthless human, you will take what mistress demands. Every
drop," Nance told Greg.
"But-- I'm going to burst!" Greg howled.
"Katy, you may stop the flow now," Mistress told the 12-year-old
girl. She obeyed. The tube was withdrawn from Greg's ass, mistress
warning him to hold himself in and not spill his "memento", as she called
it, all over the carpet. Greg was allowed to stand up. He did so shakily,
his balls near bursting along with his ass, his hands clutching at his
behind.
"Go to the bathroom. There is a beaker sitting on the back of the
toilet. Put your memento into it, and the rest into the toilet. Don't spill
on the floor," Mistress told Greg. He obeyed, hastily, rushing as fast as his
full bottom would allow him to the bathroom, sitting with exhausted
relief on the toilet. He grabbed the beaker before he sat down, and stuck
it under himself, down inside the toilet. He shitted, groaning as he did.
Cramps struck him when he was almost done. He sat for a quarter hour on
the toilet, grasping and massaging his stomach, his big cock bouncing
against the ceramic seat, Katy taking the beaker from him and examining
its contents. "You have done well," Mistress told Greg, when he finally got
up off the john. They had not rushed him. They seemed pleased that his
cock was still hard. Katy passed around the beaker to all four of the
females and they took great interest in the brown sloshing contents.
A new bath was drawn. Greg got in again and the females got in with
him. He was washed, and this time when they were done with him he did
them. He loved the erotic feel of their soft bodies. He worked his fingers
between their legs, and made each of them, even little Katy, groan with
delight and finally experience what so much wanted: to come, to release
himself, spurting forth in time with the contractions of the females'
pretty cunt lips. But it was not allowed, Mistress insisted that he must
first endure torturous tests on his cock. Trembling, Greg was taken after
their bath, which refreshed the women but only served to heighten his own
sense of desire, to a home made dungeon in the basement of the house.
"We have purchased equipment to test you with. Specifically, your
loins," Mistress said to Greg. She offered him a seat. It looked like a
child's toilet, except bigger, large enough for a man to sit down
comfortably on it, provided he didn't mind the hole in the center of it.
Greg accepted, letting his heavy ribbon-bound balls descend down into the
hole, as well as a bit of his asscheeks, the rest of him comfortably
positioned over the hole as if for shitting, except for his cock, which, in
its erect condition, jutted out beyond the front end of the toilet, between
his spread thighs. Mistress smiled. "There is a bowl down inside that
potty," she told Greg. "If you feel in the mood, please give Katy another
memento of your bottom's product."
"Okay," Greg said hoarsely, barely able to keep his hands off his dick
as he looked at the for incredibly beautiful nude women.
"We have little regard for these human forms of ours," Mistress said
to Greg. "Therefore your first test will be not to endure torture yourself,
but to watch us torture each other. Without cumming or playing with
yourself, of course," Mistress added, glancing at Greg's cock and his hands.
"What- what are you going to do?" Greg asked.
"You're going to poop, if you can, and not cum," Mistress told Greg.
"I'm going to punish Colette and Nance." The two lovely 19-year-olds
turned toward each other. Suddenly they embraced, Nance's hand rubbing
Colette's flat belly, Colette returning the favor and then caressing her
friend's thigh.
"Oh, it's going to hurt!" Nance, who upstairs had been so ready with
the whip, breathed to Colette.
"I know!" Colette answered. Their bodies pressed and then writhed
together. They kissed. Colette reached around her friend and gripped her
bottom. Nance lifted her hands and cupped the lovely pair of breasts that
were pressing against her own.
"Please don't be too rough with us," Nance said to Mistress when the
girls had finished kissing.
"You value your worthless human form too highly," Mistress said in a
disapproving voice to Nance. The blonde driver looked at herself, lifting a
hand, gazing down at her bosoms, which quivered nakedly on her chest,
then placing her hand against her flat belly.
"It's a rather nice body," Nance admitted.
"It's a gorgeous body," Greg, sitting on the potty, breathed.
"Nonetheless it must be punished, to test Greg's response," Mistress
replied. She walked to a wall, where a range of implements hung, from
stiff riding crops to flexible long whips. She chose a wire-like device,
attached to a wooden handle, and returned. "This should hurt especially
badly," Mistress said to Nance and Colette.
30 excerpts below
Colette
Katy
Nance
mistress
Greg Johnson
30
----------------------- Dreamgirls! -----------------------
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Silver: http://www.mr-yellow.com/goodies
The Backdrop Club: http://www.backdrop.com
Usenet Newsgroup: alt.sex.stories.moderated
-- Great art books by David Hamilton and Jock Sturges are at:
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-- Naked little girls/politics: http://www.AlessandraSmile.com
Man/boy love: http://www.nambla.de Politics: http://www.lp.org
http://www.isil.org http://www.fear.org http://www.fija.org
http://www.aclu.org
-- Naughty Naked Dreamgirls (Library of Congress ISSN: 1070-1427)
is copyright 2001 by Andrew Roller. Dreamgirls, Naughty Naked
Dreamgirls, and NND are registered trademarks of Andrew Roller.
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