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Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
BOTTOMS IN BONDAGE
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Chapter Six
We girls at the tea table sat stunned and hot, like chaste angels at
an orgy, contemplating sin. I myself longed to rub my clit, and had to keep
pinching my thighs to keep myself from doing it. Beside me Rose simply
stared, lost still in her innocence, while little Linda, so Puritanical
earlier in the evening, rubbed herself without shame. Behind me I heard
kissing. A quick look confirmed that Kitty was devoting her tongue most
religiously to the nipples of own uplifted breasts.
ÒGirls! Come and suck off my two patrolmen,Ó Mistress B ordered.
ÒThey are inspected regularly by police physicians, so I can assure you
that they are free of disease. Drink their sperm so they can receive the
precious cockrings over their deflated members.Ó
It was like a cattle call. All five of us girls rushed over to the two
available men. Each of us was eager to claim an Adonis all to herself. But
it could not be. Two of us had to share one, and two others the second. I
found myself sharing mine with Rose, who seemed utterly guileless in the
art of licking.
ÒDo it like itÕs a popsicle,Ó I told her. She found this of help and
began doing the shaft, while I coveted the sperm-loaded head. I wanted to
be hit in the face with the stuff, so impressed had I been by the femininity
in SandraÕs complete submission.
She, meanwhile, was shuddering helplessly from peak to peak of
orgasmic bliss as a veritable mountain of male flesh rose up beneath her.
They ate her ass, her pussy, they clawed at her breasts and suckled her
nipples like ravenous babes. Someone mercifully removed her ball gag and
soon she could be heard moaning and crying like some damned soul in Hell,
perched atop an orgy of male desire.
At last I got my wished-for faceful, just in time to see Sandra being
hauled off to the marital bedroom. I rose up. I let my artless friend worry
about the cockring, which already she was handling with uncertain
fingers, as the policeman in her care sat dazedly waiting.
ÒYoung lady?Ó Mistress B snapped at me.
ÒI must follow my master, maÕam,Ó I replied with a quick turn of my
head toward her. Then I hurried off, lest I be her next victim. Stumbling
in my silly cowboy gear, I ran after Sandra. I could not help myself. I had
to see her fate.
ÒMaster, what are they doing to her?Ó I asked, finding my own just
inside the bedroom door.
ÒLisa!Ó he said, admiration in his voice, turning to me. ÒYou are
quite a brave little trooper, seeing all this,Ó he replied.
ÒNo more so than Rose,Ó I said, turning my pert nose up at him. I did
not want to be turned out at the crucial moment.
ÒNo more so than Rose,Ó he agreed. He patted my bottom. As if to
prepare me for something, he eased me around in front of him, my back to
him, and began unbuckling my bra. His dong caught in my ass. I did not
insist he remove it. Silently I pretended to stand on tip toe a few times,
as if to spy something over on the nightstand, sliding his swollen dick up
and down my furrow. Temptingly I pushed my hole directly against it. His
head seemed huge.
We watched as Sandra was thrown into the marital bed. SheÕd
increased her struggles once she saw what they had prepared for her.
Above the bed swung I.V. tubing. I wondered at it, realized a friend must
have somehow snuck into the home and installed it after we girls had
dressed-up in here. Amidst the clutter on the nightstand, displaying every
conceivable aid for conception, a blood pressure cuff had been placed. I
saw a thermometer too, and my naked bottom tensed as I realized, by its
red tip, that it was a rectal thermometer. Master sensed my ass cheeks
tightening round his head and took my instinctive response to be one of
planned invitation.
ÒLet me get your boobs free first,Ó he murmured. My elaborate bra
still contained them, though my pussy had spent the entire night bare.
ÒI did not mean --Ó I began. He had pushed me forward in response,
as if to bend my head down to my knees. He let me up, but did not stop
undoing my bra. I was, apparently, going to lose that no matter what. It
was my MasterÕs will.
ÒWhy does she fight so?Ó I asked. I watched as Sandra threshed in
the bed, twisting and turning as the men ruthlessly bound her wrists
cross-wise over her head, tying them in felt-lined leather restraints to a
bar that hung at a fixed height from the ceiling. This too was new. Sandra
flinched when, looking up at her newly bound wrists, she saw that they
were utterly immobile. Yet I wondered at her, despite my own incredible
nervousness. Had she not played my Mistress? DidnÕt she boast of past
parties with us? Surely the restraints could not actually be hurting her,
though they did hold her arms very securely.
ÒShe fights because she is going to have an abortion,Ó Master
whispered to me.
ÒBut she is not pregnant!Ó I chirped, loud enough for Sandra to hear
me. She looked at me with pleading eyes, yet said nothing, though she
wore no gag.
Master laughed. His engorged cock shafted up my tender heinie with
relish, bumping me nearly off my feet. He caught me, hit me again deep in
my crack. Oh, my poor virgin anus! He was hitting so close to my tightly-
closed hole, whacking me in my furrow just a centimeter above it. His
cock juices, pre-cum, dribbled down my furrow and collected in my
indipping hole.
ÒWhy do you think weÕve been wearing these rings?Ó Master asked
me. His voice was amused, with a tinge of annoyance. As if Einstein was
being forced to explain elementary physics.
Before I could answer master continued, ÒIt is so we can retain our
seed until it is time to pump it into your Mistress.Ó
ÒTo make her pregnant?Ó I asked. What is an atom?
ÒTo make her pregnant,Ó he replied, and freed my breasts. They
bounced into his hands and at once he squeezed and cupped them, as if his
own palms had become my new bra.
ÒBut she can --Ó I began.
ÒShe has been denied birth control by her husband,Ó Master replied.
ÒFor tonight. Specially for tonight. And IUDÕs, and all other forms. And
RU-486 is still illegal here.Ó
ÒSo with five --Ó I actually counted the penises arrayed around me,
then added the one jammed in my butt. ÒWith five cocks she is sure to get
laid,Ó I concluded. My high school viewpoint was showing.
Master laid. ÒShe will certainly get laid, my sweet child, but she
will get quite pregnant too. Since we wonÕt know know who fathered the
child, though, her husband insists that she must have an abortion
performed.Ó
ÒWhen?Ó I shivered.
ÒAhh, that is the question, isnÕt it? He swears heÕll let her swell up
to the size of a giant watermelon, wrecking her figure. She wants it done
as quickly as possible.Ó We watched as SandraÕs figure was upended.
Grasping her ankles, a man and her husband unceremoniously yanked up her
ass until it was above her head. Three plump pillow were put under her
hips, to elevate them. Then her feet were let down, spread wide on the
bed, and finally bent at the knees to give her a classic ÒbirthingÓ look, as
if she were in a hospital delivery room.
ÒWill she deliver?Ó I asked.
ÒNo way, her husband wouldnÕt know whoÕs child he was saddled
with.Ó We were repeating ourselves, but we seemed to enjoy it. Master
began undoing the buckle of my leg-sheathing chaps. He palmed my tummy,
checking perhaps if any baby were growing inside me. He pressed deeply,
found nothing. I could wear corsets. There would be no damage.
ÒShe could always slip away and get one,Ó I said.
ÒShe will be a complete slave of her husband until the day he takes
her to the abortionist,Ó Master replied. ÒOr perhaps the doctor will be
brought here.Ó
ÒIt would be so tragic to kill the baby,Ó I said, feeling my master
peel my freshly unbuckled chaps down my thighs. I parted them a bit
wider, helping him get me out of my clothes. I wished heÕd place his hand
between them.
ÒIt will be a pleasure baby only,Ó Master replied. SandraÕs legs were
completely bound now at the ankles, with felt-lined cuffs. The men looped
restraints round her knees and pried them wide. When theyÕd tied her off
she was unable to close her legs at all, though she could with a little
effort spread them yet wider apart. My eyes flitted to the menÕs cocks,
the dildoes arrayed on the table. This was not a place for a good little
schoolgirl like me to be, that was for sure.
ÒIÕve got to call my mom!Ó I blurted suddenly. SandraÕs husband
looked at me. He switched his eyes to my MasterÕs.
ÒGet her completely out of her things,Ó he said. ÒI had thought to do
this in total privacy, with just us men, letting Kitty entertain the girls.
But since she is here, she can help. And get her own due in turn.Ó
ÒReally, I must --Ó I began, but master would hear none of it.
Perhaps he was the slave of SandraÕs husband. As I put up a struggle of my
own now, he yanked down my pants-that-were-not-pants and pulled them
over my boots. A man grabbed my flailing arms, held them firmly behind
me. My boobs lifted, spread. His cock shafted purposefully through the
mane of my blonde hair where it tumbled down behind my head.
ÒQuite a little Indian,Ó my newest Master remarked. Holding me, he
watched my struggles as one watches a fish flopping uselessly on a dock.
ÒThatÕs why I chose her,Ó Master said, relieving me of my boots, then
stealing my hat. I watched as Master frisbeed it over to the seat of a
chair, where it landed perfectly. ÒWe may need that later,Ó he said,
stooping and bundling the rest of my things into his hands. He walked
toward a chest made of cedar wood and tossed them in. He locked it.
I felt myself released from behind. Seeing my hat as the only article
of clothing left to me, I ran to the chair. I grabbed my hat and yanked it
down onto my head. Then I dashed for the door.
When SandraÕs husband strode up behind me I was still at the door,
futilely twisting its handle. It was, of course, locked. My heinie wriggled
with my frustration. My thin legs knocked their knees. I was feeling
really scared now. I was only 15! This marital bedroom was no place for
a young girl, a freshman with her breasts newly formed. God forbid that I
should have to learn to give milk through them in my sophomore year!
With a commanding slap SandraÕs husband whacked my heinie. I
leapt up, spun about, grabbed at my ass and held it with both my hands.
ÒGet your little fanny over there,Ó SandraÕs hubby snarled at me. He
pointed to the nightstand with all the intercourse equipment displayed on
it. I saw he was not a man to be reasoned with. Bowing my head I
scuttled quickly past him, then slowed my pace a little and walked
obediently to the table, holding my poor punished ass all the way. The men
laughed at me. I blushed. I was, momentarily, the absolute center of
attention, despite the presence of a full-grown, well-spread woman in the
room. Somewhere deep in my womb I relished this, though it had cost my
bottom.
Releasing my fundament I dithered a moment amongst all the scary
things, not knowing what to do with them. Dildos, condoms, oils, lotions;
cream to ease stiff joints and heating pads to warm exposed flesh, grown
chilly in the long hours of the bedroom that I imagined Sandra might spend
here.
ÒOhhh! I shouldnÕt know what to do with any of this!Ó I muttered to
myself, wiggling my tush a little in pent-up frustration. SandraÕs husband
had let me keep my hat on, at least, and instantly I was glad for it as a
light was switched on from above. I looked toward the bed to see where it
was directed.
The cunt, of course. SandraÕs. The uppermost portion of her inner
thighs and her well-furred nest were now subjected to an intense,
spotlighted glare.
Suddenly a wave of pity washed over me. With the brim of my hat
shading my brow, I stole a wettened towel and a lipstick from the table. I
kneed my way onto the bed and settled beside Sandra. Softly I wiped her
face, whispered consoling words to her. Carefully I applied my lipstick to
her mouth. She would look her best, if I could help it, despite the
lewdness of her enforced posture. Would someone give her lipstick when
she lay prepared for her abortion?
Sandra looked up at me with leaden eyes. But as I applied the
lipstick they cleared. Her vision strengthened. By the time I was done she
was looking up at me boldly, almost wantonly, as if to dare me to join her
on the bed. She mumbled something.
ÒShhh,Ó I replied, consoling her again, putting my finger to her lips.
I was Mistress of her now. ÒI wish I could free you, but I canÕt,Ó I said
softly. ÒYou must take the cocks, and please pump them dry so theyÕll
have absolutely nothing left for me.Ó
She nodded. ÒThankyou,Ó she breathed. She licked her lips lightly,
tasting her new lipstick.
ÒYouÕre welcome!Ó I replied, bending down on all fours and kissing
her on the cheek. I was unmindful of my bottom.
WHACK!
ÒYooch!Ó I leapt up again, another searing handsmack from SandraÕs
horrible husband searing my bottom.
ÒGod, what an ass she has!Ó he exclaimed to his fellows, watching
with them as I wriggled around on my knees, my back quite erect now, my
face screwed up with the pain of the blow. He was a heavy-hitter, that
was for sure! I waited to hear what my crime had been, but he said
nothing of that, merely ordered me to rip open SandraÕs tummy-binding
dress.
Most cautiously I bent over again, presenting my reddened bottom,
and yanked at mistressÕ ruined dress.
ÒShe will break a nail doing that,Ó my Master advised SandraÕs
husband.
ÒGet scissors!Ó He replied, giving me another ass wallop. I shot up
like a fish pulled on a line from the water, began sobbing at the
frustration of it all, not to mention the pain.
ÒMaster, please!Ó I implored him. He turned to SandraÕs husband.
ÒDo not hit her while sheÕs using the scissors,Ó he said.
SandraÕs husband nodded his agreement, looked at his wife. ÒNo use
giving her an abortion before sheÕs pregnant!Ó He chuckled.
Getting a scissors from the table I returned to my ex-mistress.
ÒDonÕt worry, IÕll try not to poke you,Ó I said. Carefully, keeping one eye
out for the safety of my hiney, I sliced through the remnants of her
wrecked dress. Freeing her from its girdle-like embrace (due to the
binding effects of the spilled liquor and the bunching of it), I pulled it out
from under her. I knew not what to do with it. I bunched it up and tossed
it off the bed, onto the floor. My own master picked it up and deposited it
in a flowered wastecan. Such a pretty dress. I should have liked to have
worn it myself, had it not been destroyed. It made me think of the baby
soon to be formed in her, only to be thrown away later. Such a pity. Yet I
myself did not want to see her spoil her pussy by shoving a baby through
it. Impulsively I bent down, licked her twat.
ÒYou taste like honey!Ó I exclaimed, turning my head toward her face.
My long draping hair teased her clit. She moaned softly, begged me to lick
her again. I did so, quickly, lest I give the men any naughty ideas.
Bounding off the bed, sprightly in my nudity, I approached my Master.
There was an Important Subject I had to discuss with him. IÕd put off
mentioning it, for fear it would provoke some depravity equal to the
shitting outdoors, under a blaze of spotlights.
ÒMaster, I have to pee!Ó I said, wriggling my hips as if to give my
words added emphasis.
ÒGood!Ó he replied. I stared wonderingly at him until his next words
were spoken. ÒAnd you will most certainly be allowed to, in good time,
but until then you will be our helper and do exactly as you are told. Now
salute me, like the good trooper you are and prepare to receive your
orders.Ó
ÒMy -- orders?Ó I asked, absently lifting my hand to the brim of my
hat in a sluggish salute.
SWAP! In came the swooping hand, that awful hand of SandraÕs
husband, and I was sent leaping up onto my tippiest tip-toe, howling like a
banshee and grabbing at my still-reverberating butt. I felt my ass cheeks
shiver in my hands, reeling from the blow. I bit my lip and stilled them
with my palms. Holding myself, I turned to SandraÕs husband. My breasts
poked their nipples at him. I would stab him with my little thorns.
ÒSalute smartly, but with your legs spread wide, not closed like a
regular soldiersÕ,Ó he said. ÒYou are a bedroom soldier, and will serve
nowhere else. Jut out your hips when you give your salute and, if your
other hand is free, splay your cuntlips to the man who is addressing you.
IÕll make sure you take orders properly in my bedroom even if I have to
flay your butt alive with this hand of mine to make it happen.Ó He showed
me his hand. He was a lumberjack. It was big and calloused.
ÒI wish you were an accountant,Ó I gulped, hoping to make him more
complacent with my back-handed complement. I found his hands
fascinating, particularly knowing how obedient they made me, even with
one simple slap. God forbid that I should ever be put over this manÕs knee!
How had Sandra ever managed it?
Her husband took my arm and turned me around, held me, as if
manipulating a child. WHACK! His calloused palm connected with my rear.
ÒOooooo!Ó I danced about the room, on my toes as never before,
clutching at my poor spoilt rear. It felt like it was on fire! ÒWhat have I
done wrong NOW?Ó I asked. Desperately I hoped to hear some crime
spelled out. My bottom would never last an hour if he whacked me any
time he felt like it!
ÒYou must call me and the other men Ôsir,Õ whenever we speak to
you,Ó he said casually. ÒAnd what else you must do will be spelled out for
you when you fail to think of it, so think hard, lest I bang your tail all the
way through to the other side of your body!Ó
Indeed, he might certainly do that, I realized. I went to my master
and grabbed his big shoulders. Incautiously, but needing to, I stuck out my
fanny to the cooling air. My master laughed, gazing down at my jiggly
heinie, made all the more wiggly by my need to pee.
ÒYouÕd better listen up!Ó he warned. ÒSandraÕs husband means
business when it comes to the important subject of fucking his wife.
Anything you do to detract from the experience will be soundly punished, I
assure you.Ó
ÒYes, master,Ó I sniffled, a tear running down my cheek. ÒI mean
ÔYes, Sir!Õ I corrected with unprecedented rapidity, standing tall and
whipping my hand up to my forehead in a perfect salute. My titties jiggled
like jello fresh from the mold. My hips arched toward his dong, beggingly,
my hand shooting down to properly splay my cuntlips.
ÒThatÕs better,Ó I heard SandraÕs husband cackle in the background.
ÒThatÕs the first swat youÕve avoided. LetÕs hope a bright girl like you can
keep it up, for your assesÕ sake! ItÕs tough to listen up in school if youÕre
forced to stand the whole period!Ó
Alas! They knew my real name, and apparently even my wonderfully
high grade point average, yet I knew not even any names by which to
distinguish them! Even my own master was still ÔMasterÕ to me. What a
hopeless mess IÕd gotten my poor tushy into. And my poor bladder!
Wriggling like a fish I next set about their next chore for me:
relieving the men of their urine! A bucket was pointed out to me, a simple
one made of metal, like gardenerÕs use. I presented it to each manÕs
bloated cock and he pissed into it for me. As I went from cock to cock the
bucket got heavier, but I was not allowed to empty it.
ÒYouÕll have to carry all our seed. You may as well get some practise
with our urine!Ó SandraÕs awful husband laughed.
Hefting the bucket with trembling hands, scared to death IÕd spill it,
I was ordered into another room. Alas! IÕd hoped it would be a toilet but
instead it was a small closet with, of all things, a window! At SandraÕs
husbandÕs instructions I dumped the contents of the bucket out the
window, onto some rose bushes. Poor roses! They would surely wilt from
all those nasty menÕs pee! I was told to leave the bucket in the closet.
When I returned, my duty done, the closet door was locked shut behind me.
Its key was placed up on a high shelf that I could not reach.
I did nursely duties next, taking SandraÕs pulse, blood pressure,
getting her temperature from her anus. (Fortunately the end of her bottom
overhung the piled-up pillows.)
ÒHave you ever started an I.V.?Ó Master asked me. He was
supervising my duties. His dick stuck out at me but I was denied it. It
was reserved for SandraÕs waiting womb. Her soon-to-be-ÔbabyfiedÕ
womb.
ÒNo, sir,Ó I replied, saluting him, thrusting out my hips, kneeling on
the bed, the rectal thermometer still in my hand.
ÒWell, then, this will be your first stick!Ó he said, and traded me my
shit-dipped thermometer for a drug needle. ÒShe will need fluid during
her ordeal. We may not feel like bothering with pouring her drinks.Ó
ÒI could,Ó I offered.
ÒShe needs the I.V.,Ó he replied. ÒYouÕll be busy getting the men up,
or keeping them up, or inspiring them to produce more sperm in their balls.
And we men will be too busy with her, or you, to bother.Ó
ÒEven for water?Ó
ÒEven for water.Ó
Alas! With trembling hands and a queasy stomach I moistened
SandraÕs upraised arm with a swab pad dipped in alcohol, concentrating on
the crook of her arm opposite her elbow. Above her wrists an I.V. bag
dangled, swollen with saline. Sandra threshed below me. I spoke softly to
her as I bound her arm with a rubber cord, tying off her veins to make
them swell for the needle. She did not hear me, wanting the attention of
drinks, not wanting the I.V. to reduce her to a mere cunt.
ÒOuch!Ó Sandra winced as I drove in the needle. I glanced down at
her. Glossy, wet-lipped, she looked as if she were some fashion model,
not a wife about to be fucked.
ÒPlease, IÕm trying not to hurt you!Ó I begged. The I.V. ran. It was in!
My first try, and I had avoided injuring her. I unbound the cord, let the
saline flow down her arm to her body. ÒYou have such small veins, IÕm
amazed I accomplished this,Ó I said, following masterÕs instructions as I
checked the I.V. to make sure everything was right.
ÒYou should have put my arm down first, let blood flow into it before
you stuck it,Ó she breathed.
ÒWhy didnÕt you tell me?Ó I asked.
ÒMy husband is a sadist, he wanted it done this way,Ó she replied.
ÒHe hoped youÕd miss many times before you stuck me.Ó
I shot a glance back over my shoulder, aware of my all-too-
vulnerable hiney. Wherever I went, whatever I did, it seemed to stick out
behind me, invitingly, inspiring these wicked me to want to do awful
things to it. But SandraÕs husband was smiling.
ÒYou are quite the little nurse,Ó he said. ÒI shall have to moderate
my handsmackings of you, if only to save your bottom for later fucking.Ó
Thanks a lot, Sir, I thought to myself. And if I ever, EVER see your
ass sticking out while youÕre, say, plowing your wife, and have a key to
get out of here, you will GET something you will never forget! I stole a
glance up at the whip hung neatly over the bed. Yes indeed, that would
serve my plan most effectively. God help me if I ever struck his balls
with it, though. No escape would save me then, even if I had a key. But a
butt-whipping he might put up with, if I surprised him with it and was
careful with my aim. Surprisingly, I realized, I was focused on the hairy
ass of SandraÕs husband instead of my masterÕs own, which was much
handsomer. Perhaps it was the reason her husband had given me so many
whacks, to make me think of him instead of anyone else.
ÒGit along there, little doggie, or IÕm going to have to give you some
encouragement!Ó I heard SandraÕs husband rasp behind me. Shiveringly I
tidied up the mess made from the I.V. and needle wrappers, the cord and
the wipe pad, and slipped off the bed. I threw away the debris, then
reported to SandraÕs husband for new orders. At least, while I was in
front of him, he couldnÕt whack my poor behind! So I had unconsciously
chosen to report to him instead of my own master. He smiled, seemed to
like that I was thinking of him more than my master, and told me to lube
up the menÕs dicks.
With fondling hands I prepared the men, oiling their penis masts
from stem to stern. Each one of them had a tough job ahead of him,
ploughing a woman while his cock was simultaneously constricted at its
base. The cock ring would hold back his seed until the final possible
moment, when at last, enraged with passion, he would spurt through the
restriction and impregnate her. I stared in awe at their greased poles
when I was finished, arrayed like soldiers themselves before me and my
hat.
ÒSirs, I salute your manliness,Ó I said, of my own volition, barely
suppressing a girlish giggle.
ÒNot in the book, but appreciated,Ó SandraÕs husband replied. I gave
each of them in turn a forward flip of my hips, showing my tight little
virgin cunt, offering the pink inside to penises I dared not take within me,
so awfully would the men have to rend Sandra before they finally achieved
their release. And then a thought occurred to me. I turned to SandraÕs
husband. My own was not even in my thoughts anymore.
ÒSir, out of pity only, may I whip your butts whilst you fuck? It
would give you a speedier release.Ó
ÒAh, again you speak and save yourself from punishment by the
quality of your suggestion,Ó he replied. ÒGrab the whip. Whack us as much
as you please, but if you hit our balls you will not be punished, girl, you
will be killed!Ó
ÒNot if I run away before you can catch me,Ó I answered. ÒIn girlÕs
baseball we learn to steal boyÕs hearts by stealing bases!Ó
ÒAh, yes, to get their attention, so many pretty asses and legs being
out there onfield already,Ó he said. He strode forward. He spun me about.
ÒPlease, sir! Not again! It hurts too much!Ó I begged.
ÒGet your hand out of the way,Ó he snarled.
ÒOnly if you donÕt spank me,Ó I said, withdrawing my hand in the
hope IÕd found mercy within him.
WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! Three spanks for Miss Mark! I stumbled
away, clutching my rear and bawling like a baby.
ÒGet the whip!Ó SandraÕs husband roared. With snivelling face and
my hiney facing away from him as much as I could, I obeyed. ÒBring it to
me!Ó he ordered. Fearful in my nudity, stripped bare and knowing he could
flay me with it as easily as I he, I presented SandraÕs husband with the
whip. He took it from me, held it in his palms and made me kiss it.
Submissively I received it back from him. ÒRemember,Ó he said. ÒWhip
any manÕs balls and you will not be punished, like we play here, you will be
strung up right from the rafters and left to hang until dead!
I gulped, praying he only wanted to scare me. I did not even glance
at my master. He had no power here. SandraÕs husband smiled. He saw I
was now totally in his grip, his little slave as much as his wife was. ÒYou
shall play softball topless with my wife, and soccer too. Yes, endless
soccer, with your young boobs flying all over the field as I chase you with
that whip.Ó
ÒI will score many goals,Ó I whispered compliantly, not wishing to
offend him. Oh, my God! I must say ÔSir!Õ I whipped up my hand and
offered my cloven fig. ÒI will score many goals, Sir!Õ I yelped, my boobies
shivering.
ÒVery good,Ó he said. ÒAnd I will score many touchdowns, IÕm sure.Ó
For many hours the men speared that poor woman, each flooding her
at last. I whipped away from behind, sometimes softening my strokes to
feather-touches for fear I might accidentally whack their huge balls. At
last they were all empty, but then my work was not, for I was tasked with
bathing their cocks in a bucket and re-energizing them. I had to use my
hands, the space between my boobs, even let them knock on my tight anus
to inspire them to rise again. They seemed pleased with my efforts, for
each rose up and fucked Sandra again.
As the night wore on, I thought more and more of the key on the
uppermost shelf. I plotted and planned. If I stood in a chair, placed my
foot up on the chair back for leverage, I might just be able to reach it.
I waited. The men grunted in Sandra, exchanged places, retreated to
chairs to doze in a haze of spent pleasure. I myself was desperate to pee,
had pissed out a little when no one was looking into the trashcan. Onto
SandraÕs dress.
ÒGet on the bed,Ó SandraÕs husband groaned to me, lifting himself
from his wife. A large pool of semen pooled beneath her buttocks, three
pillows down from where they projected out over the piled-up pillows.
More dripped down from her cunt. It looked like a nasty gash now,
something a mad slasher had given her. ÒMount my wifeÕs face,Ó SandraÕs
husband ordered.
With trepidation moving my limbs, I clambored aboard the bed and
got my own near-virgin puss over SandraÕs much-kissed mouth. ÒHi,Ó I
breathed, gazing down at her eyes. I felt a puff of breath on my hot clit as
she mouthed a reply.
Firm, unyielding hands came to me. SandraÕs husband. I still did not
know his name. /could not remember. He plumped my bottom, impressing
his thumbs into the white flesh. It had been some time now since heÕd
spanked me. I feared he would give me a slap there but he somehow
restrained himself. Quizzically I watched him bind my wrists to the
headboard. It was made of rails and he bound each wrist apart from the
other, letting my elbows hang down, as if I would soon have to hang on for
dear life as something awful happened to me. MistressÕ breath on my cunt,
just centimeters from her face, made me burn to pee as never before, and
burn to do something else with myself down there too.
ÒLick me,Ó I whispered surreptitiously to Sandra as soon as her
husband had departed. She did not obey.
ÒNow for the final tribute, men!Ó SandraÕs husband said gleefully.
ÒRub yourselves as it happens for you will not get another chance to come
in my house. Sandra and the little miss here will be reserved to my
exclusive pleasure from now on, as well as any girls out in the living room
who havenÕt been hauled away to prison by now!Ó
ÒNo!Ó I cried. I turned my head frantically, met the eyes of my
master. (I remembered him now!)
ÒIÕm sorry, but I owe him a debt,Ó my master replied. His eyes had
no fire. He was a defeated man. ÒI hoped, I hoped he wouldnÕt collect on
you, but he did.Ó
ÒShe was too beautiful to pass up!Ó SandraÕs husband beamed at my
master. Just like Achilles and Agamemnon, I thought, remembering a
chapter IÕd read for school. Just one chapter, not the whole book, yet it
had much impressed me. And now I was Briseis!
A whistling sound. My heinie jumped. Alas! I had my tippy toes
spread out behind me, now, my kneeling legs in a wide vee. My toes curled.
I could not stand on them. I waggled my ass like a newly branded cow.
Another whistle. Another shout from me. I mashed my cunt down
into SandraÕs mouth in an attempt to relieve the pain, deflect it with
pleasure. Much needed pleasure, in fact.
Ah! My body writhed as the uncoiling snake of the whip struck me
again, but it felt different now, mixed with the rush of pleasure my cunt
felt, jammed down against mistress. She licked, trying to push me off
with her tongue, for she had nothing else to push with. I responded by
pushing down. It was a contest.
whip! whip! whip! the whip came then, sparkling against my
bottom, making me shiver ever more deeply with pleasure. It hurt, yet it
felt good, awful yet wonderful. I savored each insweeping stroke, felt it
bite across my apple-round bottom, knew I would pay for it later with
dinner taken standing up at the table, yet cared not.
ÒAh, she has both the bottom and the personality for it,Ó SandraÕs
husband marvelled. ÒTrained in but a single night! I shall have two wives
now, and love them equally.Ó In my passion I heard him and agreed. I
bounded atop my new wife-mate, a wife myself, married in bed to the tune
of the whip. At last, from somewhere in the distance, orgasm after
orgasm washed over me, rippling out to my fingertips and down to the
ends of my toes, seizing my nipples with pleasure, flooding my cunt. And
in my lust I released my bladder, peeing all over SandraÕs face.
Bodily I was lifted from the bed. Free at last from the headboard IÕd
clung to, I ran for a bucket the men had prepared for me. Cool water, in a
big steel washbasin-sized bucket. I plunged my bottom into it. Ah, how I
hurt, yet how good I felt! Awful, but awfully good, as they say. The men
gathered round me. I gazed up at them, savoring the silkiness of the
refreshing water on my hot, bulbing bottom. I would plant myself in the
bottom of this bucket and never leave.
I noticed that the menÕs cocks were hard once more. How had they
managed that? They strummed them confidently, as men who have cum so
often they find a new hardness unthreatening, something to delight in,
with little danger of spilling. Had my youthful schoolgirlÕs body
stimulated them to such heights of endurance? Modestly I covered my
breasts with my hands. My feet did not quite touch the floor, rested easily
on tiptoe, so odd was my bucket-enforced posture, my knees bent and
rising up past my breasts, my bottom still wiggling within.
SandraÕs husband took off my hat. He tossed it to a chair. ÒLisa, we
are going to cum on you, and when you are finished smacking your lips
from that, we are going to pee on you,Ó SandraÕs husband told me simply.
There was no argument, I knew that, despite the safety I felt with my
bottom deep down in the bucket. For he could pull me out of it as quickly
as a fisherman yanks up a fish from the fathomless depths of a pond. And
I wanted no more whacks on my bottom this night, prayed I would not
deserve any. Gazing at the cocks I laughed suddenly, so lewd did they look,
so silly, yet all five devoted to me. Giving no other woman their attention.
Somewhere in the middle of my laugh SandraÕs husband shot off. His
sperm hit within my partly opened mouth. My tongue unwittingly caught
it.
And then more! I tried to catch it all, turning my head this way and
that, but it proved too much. All of them came at once, and my poor lovely
hair and face was drenched with sperm. My boobs still I covered, some
last remnant of modesty at least, as they fired and fired away at me.
At last I pulled my hands stickily up from my boobs, baring their
protected whiteness. All else was whiter still, my face, my hair, my
hands themselves, on the outside.
ÒOh, please donÕt pee on me!Ó I cried, remembering suddenly their
second promised release, watching them take up aim with their now-
sagging cocks. Their held themselves to aim this time, instead of to
pleasure themselves.
Ah, again! All over me their pee streaming, destroying my beauty-
parlor perfect hair with absolute finality, filling my mouth and kissing my
newly-available nipples. I plunged a hand into the water of the bucket,
through the suds-like sperm floating there, and rubbed myself to a new
series of orgasms.
Later, much later it seemed, somebody pulled me up out of the
bucket and lay me down atop SandraÕs whimpering, still fastened figure.
My wrists were carefully wrapped together in a soft cord and secured to
the headboard. I lay atop her, my face to hers, my own ass now protecting
her clit but offering itself up instead, elevated by the cushions. I was too
tired to care. Relishing my vulnerability, I drifted off to sleep, knowing
SandraÕs husband was somewhere nearby, his balls filling quickly with
newly inspired seed.
30
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