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Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
BUSH LEAGUE
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Chapter Two
We returned to the castle. Stepping out of the limo, I gazed up at it.
From a solid facade vine-covered spires rose up to pierce the high,
scudding clouds. The driver ushered us inside. Polly was still playing
Centipede. He had to guide her steps to keep her from stumbling on the
stairs that led up the castle door. He was like Lurch, our driver. Tall,
silent, tuxedoed, with big hands and a bow tie. I turned my face up and
looked at him but he ignored me.
ÒAre you gay?Ó I needled him.
ÒI,Ó he paused. ÒI serve,Ó was all he said in reply. Nothing more. A
mysterious man.
Inside we found Rose sitting in the parlor with Louis and Andre.
They were each reading a newspaper, she was knitting. I let my eyes flit
over their crotches but saw no sign of movement. Just as I suspected. But
they were hardy men. TheyÕd be up for more antics soon, I had no doubt.
As for me, I was feeling a bit sleepy, despite the sunshine outside.
ÒHow was your visit to child protective services?Ó Rose asked. She
did not look up from her knitting.
ÒFleury tried to take the worldÕs biggest prick up her bottom,Ó Polly
reported. Rose cocked her eyebrow. ÒReally?Ó she asked, still knitting.
ÒWas it bigger even than LouisÕs?Ó
ÒOf course it was bigger than LouisÕs!Ó Polly replied, as I stood
blushing beside her.
ÒWhat?Ó Louis asked, looking up for the first time from his paper.
He turned to Rose. ÒI thought you sent them to child protective services!Ó
He seemed jealous. Despite his thoroughly relaxed crotch.
ÒI did, darling,Ó Rose replied to Louis. She pulled the yarn through
her knitting and lofted it high, finishing off a corner of the pouch she was
sewing.
ÒYou donÕt have to insult my cock just because you donÕt like it,Ó
Louis said to both Polly and I, thinking, perhaps, that we were in cahoots
in her comments.
ÒI like your cock, Louis, but this one was bigger,Ó Polly teased. She
sashayed past him.
ÒWhere are you going, dear?Ó Rose asked her.
ÒSwimming!Ó Polly replied. She unzipped the back of her dress as
she headed out the back of the parlor. A moment later and there was
nothing but her dress on the floor. Beyond that, following just a little, but
not leaving the parlor, I saw her panties abandoned on the rug. So much
for being an innocent schoolgirl.
ÒI need a nap,Ó I said, sauntering over the couch on which Louis and
Andre were sitting. I guess a year makes a difference sometimes. Either
that or the sheer rigor of what IÕd been through, being anally probed,
whipped the night before, fucked this morning.
ÒDonÕt lie down here if you donÕt like my cock,Ó Louis warned. I
plopped down beside him anyway and let my head fall back into his crotch.
It felt satisfied beneath me, though I detected perhaps a slight bulging
when I looked up at him, babylike and parted my lips.
ÒGoo,Ó I said to Louis. ÒYouÕre my daddy now. Please donÕt spank me
for trying to take the worldÕs biggest cock up my ass.Ó
ÒGo to your room if you want to sleep, Fleury,Ó Rose told me. ÒWe
have a party tonight and the men need to save up their energy for it.Ó She
looked up from her knitting. ÒWhere it counts.Ó
ÒOh, IÕm too tired to get up now,Ó I said, yawning.
ÒUp! Scat! Or I wonÕt invite you to the party tonight,Ó Rose told me.
ÒIÕll lock you up in your room and who knows who might visit you then?
YouÕll have to lie awake all night waiting, just to see.Ó
Somehow I found the energy to spring up from the couch. ÒYou are a
bitch, Rose,Ó I told our hostess. I stalked from the room, feeling quite
mature and grown-up. I might be her guest, or, rather, a female brought
here by my boyfriend Louis to be trained to be a love slave, but I didnÕt
like being ordered around. Not all the time, anyway. I think I was getting
grumpy in my sleepiness. Rose ignored me. Louis and Andre went back to
reading their newspapers. I ascended the stairs, broad polished steps that
made me feel like Scarlet at Tara. Now I knew why I liked this place.
Mingled with the sense of submission was an extraordinary freedom. And
binding it all was RoseÕs mindbending sense of elegance. I stopped to look
at a Monet hanging halfway up the stairs. Water lilies. It was a
reproduction of course, but it was still pretty. I proceeded up the rest of
the stairs and down the hall to my room.
I undressed slowly and carefully lay my schoolgirl clothes on a
chair. Someone would come and hang them for me, or iron them, or wash
them or whatever needed to be done, but I still wanted to be neater, at
least, than Polly. When I stripped to my panties, though, I tip-toed to my
window. I drew back the drapes. I took my underpants off and, leaning out
the window just a little, I dropped them. They fluttered toward the
ground. From a distance they looked like a handkerchief or, when the wind
briefly caught them, like a dove. I watched them until they landed in the
grass. Then I slipped into bed and pulled up my covers and waited to see if
anybody would find them. My door to my room was unlocked. Perhaps heÕd
bring them to me, whoever he was, and graciously return them. Or perhaps
heÕd just be Branson, whip in hand, come with my panties and ready to
scold me for tossing them out the window. I shuddered and turned on my
side and tried not to think of that possibility. As I shut my eyes, sleep
overcame me.
I had slept perhaps an hour or two when, just lingering on the edge
of sleep, I heard my bedroom door open. Rose entered. She had a folded
parasol in her hand which she laid down just inside my door, as if sheÕd
been out walking. She held aloft my panties that IÕd dropped from my
window. She let them dangle from her finger, significantly, it seemed to
me. I felt a shiver run down my back to my tailbone.
ÒYou seem to have lost these,Ó Rose said in a low, disciplined voice.
ÒI-Ó What could I say? I should have put them away, I guess, but I
wanted to be naughty. I wanted to tease and taunt passersby under my
window. A man might have come to the castle to get closer to his wife
and then, strolling along with her on the castle grounds, he might have
seen my panties, the panties of a mere 14-year-old girl, and suddenly his
mind might be gripped with an insensate lust for someone much younger
than his wife. For me, Fleury.
Rose moved closer to me and her figure, fully formed and with its
dominant bust line, overshadowed me as I lay in my bed. Her breasts,
couched in a low cut gown, but with a series of straps leading up to her
neck where they formed a tight collar, loomed large and impressive. Twin
hindenburgs, filled with hot air and ready to burst upon me. ÒMay I remind
you, Fleury, that while you are given many freedoms here at my castle, you
are in fact not free. You are expected to behave as LouisÕ love slave,
especially when he is present. He was not the least amused to find two
young men eagerly inquiring as to the possessor of these panties. They
seemed to think they had a right to return them to the Ôpoor girl,Õ as they
called you, whoÕd ÔlostÕ them. A fight almost ensued right in my living
room. I had the men ejected, of course. They should not have been invited
in the first place if they are going to let their lust get out of hand like
that. But I mustnÕt let you go unpunished for such an indiscretion, clever
and sexy as it might have been. Least because it caused me trouble, and
thatÕs enough of a standard for me.Ó
ÒOh, IÕm sorry,Ó I begged her. I drew my covers tightly under my
chin.
ÒYou are not Polly,Ó Rose told me. ÒYou are older, and more
experienced. Do you wish to remain my guest at the castle, or should I
send you home now?Ó She took my covers from my hands, persuading them
out of my grip.
ÒNo-- no I like it here,Ó I answered, truthfully, though I felt my
tummy all aflutter. She pulled down my sheets and my bedcover and
looked at my nude body. The panties, so important a moment ago, lay
dropped on the covers and got rolled under them as she drew them down.
ÒLook at you, you didnÕt even bathe before getting into your nice
clean bed,Ó Rose said. Then, speculatively, she took both my breasts in her
hands and palped them, squeezed my tits a little, as if she might be
picking up where Glenda had left off. ÒPolly resists sometimes, but I do
not expect you to, Fleury. You are to obey. You are old enough to
understand this. I will have Joanne and Sylvia come and bathe you. You
are entitled to that, at least, as a prisoner. This is not a real prison, as I
sometimes have to remind Branson. It is a prison of love. Your cuffs will
be put back on after your bath, and your collar too. Then you will report to
me, downstairs, and I will punish you for throwing your panties out the
window.Ó
I felt my hands slip quickly beneath my bottom. ÒOh, not on my
heinie!Ó I begged. ÒIt hurts still from last night!Ó
ÒWherever Louis wishes it, thatÕs where it will be done,Ó Rose said.
She bent low and kissed my forehead. ÒYou are loved, my dear. Never
forget that. You are a captive of love. The men may mistreat you
sometimes, but it is only because they enjoy seeing your young little body
wriggling around, showing all your forbidden parts. There will be time
enough in life for your mind, my dear. Now is the time for your body. We
must awaken it to all the pleasures of life. Think of all the dowdy girls
who long for love, but find none or, worse, find themselves shunned,
ostracized by their peers because theyÕre too fat, or wear glasses, or have
stupid hair that just wonÕt set right.Ó
ÒI still donÕt want to be punished,Ó I mourned.
ÒOf course you donÕt,Ó Rose replied. ÒNo girl does. I didnÕt. But a
sharp slap on your beautiful fanny is nothing compared to what those other
girls suffer, the ones who waste their lives reading Tiger Beat long after
they should have outgrown it, because nobody likes them and nobody plays
with them.Ó Rose pulled down the front of her dress and her tits bulged
out, her nipples and tit flesh extruded up by the bunched down gown. She
offered me her nipples. They were coral-tipped, like jewels.
ÒLick my nipples,Ó Rose told me. ÒSuck them, yes, ah like a baby you
suck!Ó she exclaimed, as I, hoping perhaps to win a reprieve, took her
nearest nipple tip in my mouth and sucked on it urgently. ÒGood, good,Ó
Rose told me, encouraging my hopes. I let my eyes bulge wide and I
suckled her breasts as if my life depended on it for, indeed, my bottom no
doubt did! When IÕd made one of her jug-like breasts all wet at its tip
with my saliva I went to her other one. I sucked on it just as greedily. I
was hungry for her forgiveness.
Rose seemed torn between lifting her dress and frigging herself and
desisting. Alas for me, her conscience won out. ÒEnough!Ó she declared,
and tore my lips from her bosom. ÒGo fill your tub. Joanne and Sylvia will
be fetched and in attendance on you. Obey them. Do not fight them. Let
them wash you and prepare you.Ó
ÒBut-Ó I begged. I did not want my hard work to be wasted.
ÒI will put in a good word with Louis,Ó Rose replied.
ÒYou fucked him this afternoon while I was at child protective
services,Ó I snapped at her.
Rose put her palm over my mouth. She lowered her teeth to my right
nipple. She clamped her incisors over it. Within the cold grip of her teeth
she let the tip of her tongue flick across my tender nipple tip. ÒDo you
feel this?Ó she asked, squeezing my nipple harder with her teeth, making
me really feel its presence. Her words were understandable despite her
clenched jaws.
ÒYes!Ó I breathed.
ÒI am in charge,Ó Rose told me. I nodded, watching her bite my
nipple. She unclenched it. Smiling, she lifted her head, licked her teeth
with her tongue. Her hand found my other nipple and pinched it.
ÒOw!Ó I said.
ÒOne hour,Ó Rose warned me. ÒThen I expect you to be downstairs
and all ready for your punishment, whatever it may be. Tell Joanne and
Sylvia to keep track of the time.Ó
ÒYes, mistress,Ó I said quietly. She unfolded my bedcovers. She
drew my panties out of them and inspected them. Then she reached past
my head and tossed them out the window.
ÒWhat-?Ó I began. Her breasts swung over my face like ripe
watermelon.
ÒLove is obedience, my dear,Ó Rose told me. She patted my face.
ÒYou will make a good wife someday because I will have trained you well.Ó
She turned and walked away from my bed, toward the door. I
watched as her hips undulated with a blatant sexuality. She did not intend
it, I think. She was just so perfectly formed, so fulsome, with a waspish
waist, that her hips could do naught but invite the eye, and make men
especially lust after her tail. I wondered if I might someday take a whip
to her tush. The thought made my spot tingle. I donÕt know why, but
seeing her bent over and howling sent a shiver of pleasure through my
belly and up my thighs. Yes! Despite all she did to me, I vowed someday it
would be my turn. IÕd show her how well IÕd learned all her love lessons.
Her bottom would smart for days after from all my learning.
I was presented by Joanne and Sylvia. I had a big pink bow in my
hair. I looked utterly precious. My long blonde locks were drawn back in a
ponytail that bobbed when I walked. I wore long white stockings, the frail
kind that get runs in them almost from being touched. They were white,
and held aloft by frilly garter straps hooked to a garter belt. Pink little
bows decorated the fasteners. I wore new white patent leather pumps.
Long white gloves hugged my arms. They were tied off in little bows
above my elbows, but remained fingerless upon my hands, letting my
fingers stick through as if I wore no gloves at all. Otherwise, I was
completely naked, save for my de rigueur collar and cuffs.
I bowed my head. Perhaps in my submissiveness they would spare
me. My hands played over my bottom, apprehensive. I felt my cheeks
tighten and relax. They felt much better now. My weal was subsiding.
Soon it would be as if IÕd never been hit on my behind. And yet, and yet,
they wanted more. More! I was just a schoolgirl. I felt a sudden yearning
for home. It was safe, if sexless.
I let my eyes lift up just a little. I looked at Louis to convince
myself I must stay here. Ah! He had not shaved all day. The stubble on his
face looked so manly. He was robust and tanned, wearing a suit and
slacks. I saw, tucked into his coat like a manÕs handkerchief, my panties.
HeÕd retrieved them again and had put them away for safekeeping. Rose
and I would not be frivolous with them anymore.
I let my gaze pass to Andre. He was as well-built as Louis, a tad
shorter, but with a cock that was wider, though not as long, like a sausage
made to order by a girl who stared at too many fireplugs. I used to like
watching male dogs pee against fire plugs. It was so bold, somehow,
seeing a dog simply lift his leg and pee while all the female dogs had to
squat. When youÕre eight, such things are interesting, I assure you.
Polly was not present, but Cheyenne was. She sat between Louis and
Andre. She regarded me with curious eyes, a little haughty (or was I just
jealous?), as if saying, Ôyou must perform today, my dear, my time is not
yet come for this.Õ Her breasts were bare. They hung ripely from her
chest. Her every movement made them jiggle a little. She tossed her head
to get her lovely brown hair back from her face. It fell in clouds round her
head and down over her shoulders. It seemed to always be sneaking back
into her eyes, making her toss her head again which, of course, made her
breasts jiggle anew. She wore her glistening long jade-like penis earrings
that IÕd first seen on her at the cabana. She had fingerless gloves like me
and long stockings with a matching garter belt. But there the comparison
ended, for she was permitted panties. IÕd asked for a new pair upstairs
but been denied by Joanne and Sylvia, though there were plenty lying in my
dresser. I gazed at CheyenneÕs panties, with her cunny snug inside them,
her bottom cupped by them. They were simple drawstring panties, tied at
the sides with white bows, but for me they looked divine, for I had nothing
at all to protect me. Cheyenne had a small white purse in her hands, as if
she were sitting in church, waiting for the service to begin, or a wedding.
Her lipstick was moist and red. Her shoes were patent leather, like mine.
She had her slim ankles crossed demurely. But her thighs were sweetly
parted. Simply by glancing down, Louis or Andre could amuse himself with
the sight of her cunny offering itself softly within her panties. She had
her hips shifted forward on the sofa a little, despite the erectness of her
back, to display her little female pouch more distinctly.
We were in the sunroom. There would be little privacy here for
whatever they had planned for me. My punishment would be in the nature
of a public entertainment. The sun was sinking toward the horizon but it
was still plenty bright to illuminate my suffering. I wished it was night,
pitch black, as it had been before, when Branson visited Polly and Bambi
punished me.
There was a raised dias in the center of the room. I glanced at it
suspiciously. The furniture had been pushed aside to accommodate it.
Twin poles, looking like mayfair poles, with white bunting winding up
them, stood side by side on the dias. They were about six feet apart.
Hanging down from the top of each pole was a slim silver chain. It looked
too thin and delicate to hold anything. At the end was a clip. I looked
down at my toes and saw that the clip would fit quite neatly into my ankle
cuffs, or my wrist cuffs, if they were preferred.
My head turned to Rose. She had something planned, I could tell, no
matter how good I tried to appear. She was dressed in a very tight corset
that was laced up her front and back, in the center, which meant it had
taken at least a half hour to put it on, and needed the help of others to fit
it, for it was just two unattached shells until it was all tied together.
Despite the exactness and prolonged effort required to fit Rose into her
corset, nothing had been done to cover her breasts. The corset forced
them up a little, hefting them, making them more prominent than they
usually were, which meant they looked now like two overfilled blimps
quivering at their ports waiting for takeoff.
Dangling over her breasts, held in her hand like my panties had been,
was a small cat oÕ nine tails with knotted tips at the end. I gasped when I
saw them. Rose let them swing about a little, taunting me with them.
Moving closer to her, mesmerized, I saw that they were made of the
softest silk, tied at the tips of silk cords. Yet, applied with sufficient
force, they promised to make themselves felt most viciously, or so I
imagined, for IÕd never felt such and didnÕt want to.
ÒWhereÕs Polly?Ó I asked.
ÒSheÕs been engaged in a game of hopscotch out on the front walk,Ó
Rose said. ÒI do have some consideration for her age. SheÕs probably
drawing up all the squares and numbers right now, wearing nothing at all,
since she likes to swim that way, with the limo driver keeping watch over
her.Ó
ÒLurch?Ó I said. IÕd named him myself, in my imagination, and Rose
simply nodded. No name seemed needed for him. One was as good as
another. He simply guided, served, always on call, always ready for duty.
ÒHe said he wanted to see how girls play hopscotch, at least thatÕs
what I told him to tell her. Polly, sweet dear, was happy to oblige, and
happier still when I gave her a set of colored chalk to draw on the
sidewalk with. She had always used chalk rocks before, I guess, having to
find them first before she could play.Ó
ÒStep up on the dias,Ó Sylvia urged me. There would be no more
conversation. All was in readiness. Polly could not be kept occupied
forever. As if to hurry things along Sylvia pushed me up onto the first
step of the dias. There were four more. Each was lined with felt, in case
a barefoot girl might have to mount the dias, I supposed, to give her as
much comfort as they could. Louis stood and walked over to me. He drew
my twice discarded panties from his pocket. They were slightly damp, as
if someone had washed them for me while I was taking my bath.
ÒPolly washed them, at the sink, in the kitchen,Ó Louis said. ÒSheÕs
the one who found them the second time. She was racing around the castle
trying to see how fast she could run while Lurch? is that his name? timed
her. I watched her while she washed them for you. She was quite jolly
doing it, wearing long yellow gloves to protect her hands and arms but
with nothing else on, of course. She delighted in seeing the small stains
from your bowels on your panties. I must say, watching her crow over
your stains and sing and wriggle her nude bottom about, I was pleasantly
entertained. Another good mark in your column that will mitigate your
punishment.Ó
ÒThank you,Ó I said. He responded by parting my lips with his finger
and stuffing my panties into my mouth. I resisted him at first. I stuck my
tongue against his protruding finger. We battled, much as if our two
tongues were jabbing at each other. His finger beat my tongue, of course.
I was forced to retreat. I accepted my panties with as much equanimity
as I could muster. They were mine, after all. I shouldnÕt have thrown
them out the window. Sylvia brought a soft canvas gag to my mouth and
fitted it between my teeth. To give the gag extra bulk, after it was tied
behind my head she drew both ends of my panties out around my gag and
tied them to the gag itself. This forced my tongue back very far, and I
choked, shaking my breasts. She stroked my slim throat and I at last
accepted my new condition. With a kind of sardonic glee Sylvia then
offered me her hand and encouraged me to mount the remaining steps of
the dias. I put my hands protectively to my hind cheeks and let her guide
me up. She palmed my bare belly, her other hand pressed to the small of
my back, while I concentrated on protecting my bottom.
The top of the dias was sheathed with a covering of white fur. It
was short, very soft. Sylvia guided me to the center of it, between the
poles. There I saw, on the floor of the dias, a bolster taken from one of
the couches. It was made of white vinyl, businesslike, but it had a silk
cloth draped over it, as if to catch spillings.
I was made to kneel. Sylvia kneed her way onto the platform, not
using the steps. I hoped to just crouch in my new heels next to the bolster
but she made me lie down with my bottom perched atop it. Joanne joined
her and stood over me. Sylvia drew my hands over my head and behind my
neck and affixed them to the back of my dog collar. Joanne, standing,
lifted each of my long legs and fastened them to the end of the short chain
that dangled down from the festive poles. I found myself spread-legged,
my arms virtually immobile. My graceful, slim legs were in a wide vee,
showing off my bare pussy as if I might be posing for Penthouse. My ass
cheeks, partly unsupported by the narrow bolster, hung mostly free,
jiggling in their nakedness and making me feel like I must be the Great
Pumpkin, rising from the pumpkin patch for Linus to see.
Joanne and Sylvia got off the dias, using the steps. When they had
departed Rose very sexily came up the little stairs, swaying her bottom,
which was naked, letting me see her thatch from below, and her long legs
which were sheathed in black fishnet stockings. Except for them, her
corset, and matching gloves, plus a bondage collar tightly circling her
neck, and earrings, she was naked. Of course she wore high heels, but
nothing else, and she carried the small silk whip.
ÒThis is a special treat few girls receive, and never from a man, for
they donÕt know how to do it,Ó Rose told me. With jolly eyes she dangled
the knotted tips of her whip right over my cunt! I was helpless, like a
spread turkey waiting to be stuffed. I wondered if Cheyenne would loan
me her panties but I couldnÕt ask, with the gag in my mouth.
WHICKCK! I heard, and I felt myself lurch. My smooth belly rippled
and my clamlike cunt smarted under the blow, my lips hungering to close,
but wrenched wide with my legs all tied up straight and tall to the
mayfair poles. My bare fanny bounced atop the bolster.
WHICKCKCK! Again the silken whip rained down on my cunny. I felt
the silken tips land smartly all round my spot. She would find it soon.
WHICKCK! Oh! She hit me! Right on my tenderest, most vulnerable
spot! I screamed into my gag but there was no mercy for me. She struck
me again, and was lucky again. I squeezed my eyes shut and begged her to
stop. For answer, she lifted her whip and stung my wobbling titties.
Then, feeling perhaps a little pity for me, she summoned Joanne and
Sylvia.
ÒCome and lick her parts between my whippings,Ó she told them. ÒIt
will ease her pain a little. Nothing can be done to abate the strokes, but
perhaps immediate treatment will help her bear them.Ó
ÒYes, weÕll make them better,Ó Joanne offered. Her voice was
sincere. But I think Sylvia had more wicked intentions. She simply
wanted to tongue me and make me feel her lust. She truly enjoyed seeing
me suffer. Joanne, I think, would have stopped it at once if sheÕd been in
charge.
Rose halted a moment and let Joanne and Sylvia, clad in their
Ôoffering dresses,Õ as I thought of them, offering their bottoms and tits
and cunnies to all who cared to see, knelt down beside me. Greedily Sylvia
took possession of my wounded cunny with her mouth. Joanne tended to
my nipples. I felt my breasts roll around beneath the probing of JoanneÕs
tongue. Sylvia intruded her tongue penis-like into my slit.
ÒOh, how delicate these stockings are,Ó Rose said to me, stroking my
thighs. ÒYou shouldnÕt have worn these, dear. IÕll have to be extra careful
not to hit them with my whip. IÕd hate to put runs in them.Ó
ÒRuin them,Ó a male voice declared. Louis. My captor. ÒIÕm enjoying
this. DonÕt spare her.Ó
I managed to tip my head slightly to one side. There, on the couch,
sat my lover, with Cheyenne sitting primly beside him. She was still clad
in her panties, but LouisÕ cock reared up through his pants fly. AndreÕs
was similarly displayed. Cheyenne was playing her mittened fingers
underneath their cocks, very lightly, as if preparing them for something
herself.
ÒOh, how I would love to trade Fleury for one of you!Ó Rose declared,
seeing Cheyenne entertaining the twin cocks. Suddenly, in my mind, I saw
Louis tied in my place, with his cock stemming high, waving like a third
pole, but without the bunting, and the little silken whip raining down on
his balls and his glans. I felt a rush of excitement between my legs.
ÒIÕve struck oil!Ó Sylvia announced for all the world to hear. My
essence was secreting itself. I heard a laugh and turned my head and
blushed as I saw people outside, looking in, some nicely dressed, others
just in swimsuits. They stared at my gagged face. But they looked more
intensely at my breasts, or especially between my legs, where a lifting of
SylviaÕs head to catch her breath allowed the guests outside to see my
slit. Wide open, yielding, quite wet now. Rose eased SylviaÕs head aside
and brought her whip down once more.
I howled. My breasts shook. Joanne lifted her face and let Rose
strike my titties. Then my cunt again. Then my titties. After each blow
my twin girlfriends immediately attempted to soothe me with their
tongues. On and on it went. In the distance Cheyenne kept fingering Louis
and AndreÕs cock, very discreetly. They undid her panties at last, slipping
the drawstrings. They got up and urged her toward the dias. She cried out
and dropped her purse.
ÒYes, you must be next dear. You are too pretty to pass up,Ó Rose
said. I was untied by Joanne and Sylvia. I was shunted aside like a toy
from some Christmas past and Cheyenne was fastened down in my place.
They did not bother to change the silk cloth on the bolster. They stuffed
her panties in her mouth, skipped the gag, and began beating her with the
whip.
I lay curled in a fetal position nearby. My cunny stung, my nipples
stung, my bottom was still sore from last night. All my tenderest places,
which should have been properly clothed, were nude and stinging. They
made Cheyenne suffer just as I had. Joanne and Sylvia tongued her to give
her a little respite from the blows. Louis and Andre watched, standing
over her, ignoring me, letting their pricks stand out like hard locks, but
not touching them, for Rose insisted they must not.
ÒNow for you, Andre,Ó Rose said when CheyenneÕs turn was over.
Bawling, she was rolled over to me and Louis laughingly tied his friend
down. Joanne and Sylvia helped, as well as Rose. Andre was resistant.
But he did not use all his strength to prevent his fate, and so at last Louis
won, and to my heartbeating surprise I found myself staring at AndreÕs big
sausage-like pecker, sticking straight up and showing its glory. Even
Cheyenne stopped her sobbing to admire such a glorious sight.
Rose licked her lips and began the torture. At once Andre shouted. It
hurt far worse than he imagined. Rose eased up a little and played over
him awhile. She stung his cock all up and down its length. Andre asked
her to spare his nuts but she did not. Despite her wishes to see him be a
father, she bounced the cruel tips all over his bulging sack with its
precious twin testicles. Andre bellowed like a steer being neutered. The
guests outside laughed. It was not their genitals on display, suffering
under the cat. ÒCum, cum, cum,Ó Joanne and Sylvia began chanting.
Cheyenne joined them. Rose chimed in, timing each ÒcumÓ with another
blow of her cat. I could not speak. I was still gagged.
A recess was called. Joanne and Sylvia were permitted to tongue
and soothe our bold heroÕs loins. Andre whimpered like a dog. It was so
pleasurable, feeling two young females attend to his stiff groin, and yet
the whip was such agony, its sting lasting even as Joanne and Sylvia did
their best to make him feel only pleasure.
ÒWhat? The girls didnÕt make you cum? After all that work?Ó Rose
scolded Andre when Joanne and Sylvia stopped to catch their breaths.
They had really given him their all, hoping to make him cum so Rose would
release him. Andre seemed confused. To cum was often a crime here,
spoiling our pleasure. Yet now it seemed to be required. But for Andre,
cumming was now a more distant option, for instead of letting the girls
please him again Rose beat him instead.
WHICKCK! WHICKCK! came the silken, knotted cords down on poor
AndreÕs shaft and balls. I was feeling quite sorry for him now, knowing
how much RoseÕs torture had hurt me. Still gagged, but with my hands
free, I suddenly leapt up and crawled to Andre and grabbed his cock with
both my hands.
ÒNo! No more!Ó I cried. My words were mangled but there was no
mistaking my desire. My breasts wiggled freely beneath me. My bottom
stuck out in back, impudently, and I had no doubt Louis felt like kicking me
in the ass with his sharp pointed shoes. AndreÕs pants, removed and
discarded, lay dangling off the edge of the dias. He was helpless. Only I
cared enough to save him. I put my cheek to his penis and, despite the gag,
I rubbed my cheek up and down his meaty pole.
Rose relented. She let me have Andre all to myself. Joanne bent
down and untied my gag for me. I spit it out as soon as I could. Awful
thing. It had my saliva on it and would have had my blood on it too if IÕd
been allowed to bite as IÕd wished to. Hungrily I stuffed AndreÕs poor
organ into my mouth. I did not care about anything except getting as much
of his injured tool safely into my mouth as I could. I rammed him down my
throat. I gagged on his penis but I did not try to stop myself.
Louis gazed down at me. Sylvia watched with amusement. Rose let
her cat dangle, unsure how to proceed, or whether to proceed at all. I felt
like a little rabbit, hunched down, my eyes attentive, my mouth gorged on
AndreÕs manhood. For at least a minute all remained like this, the crowd
watching, Cheyenne watching, Louis watching. And then, deep in my
throat, I felt a sudden spurting. Andre shouted like a boy having his first
spurt. His mouth gasped. The crowd outside erupted into laughter and
then, after a moment, applause. I let Andre jet deep into my throat. I
worked as best as I could to swallow all he gave me. It was too much,
though, and it came oozing and then rushing out of my widespread lips,
running down the length of his sausage that I hadnÕt been able to fit into
me.
After an especially long ejaculation, my palms palming his balls and
feeling their swelling ease, Andre sighed. I felt his huge worm lose some
of its hardness within my mouth and throat. Down he slipped, retracting
on his own. At last I spat out his cockhead, regretfully. I gazed at its
saliva slicked surface, a sheen of his own sperm mingled with my eager
spit. I kissed his softened cockhead and stood. I grimaced as, in standing,
I felt the torture anew upon my cunt, where Rose had beaten me. I
stumbled backward and Louis caught me.
Cheyenne crawled to me and placed her mouth upon my bush. I stood
hanging in LouisÕs arms, my legs akimbo, my cunny pulsing. Oblivious to
her own pain, Cheyenne began tonguing me. Then, lightly, carefully, she
put a hand to her own slit as she licked mine. It was no use, I saw. She
could not touch herself with her fingertips. It was too painful. But a
tongue would be just right. She desisted, taking her fingers away from
herself, but nobody came to her aid. Joanne had gone down on Sylvia, the
two of them entertaining each other, while Rose found herself consoling
Andre and, eventually, lying with him on the dias and kissing him again and
again, running her hands over his chest, toying with his cat-kissed
member.
Cheyenne remained kneeling disciple-like before me. She tongued me
until my chest heaved and my bosoms bounced, my breath coming in quick
gasps and then fretful moans and finally blurting out orgasmic screams.
As soon as IÕd had my turn, I let Louis drop me and I licked Cheyenne
between her own legs. She trembled under my tonguings. Louis watched
with fascination. He began stroking himself. He warned us he would spurt
all over our lovely hair but we didnÕt care. Cheyenne gazed up at him, her
breasts bare, her nipples hard and her eyes soft. Her mouth mouthed out
gasps of increasing pleasure. At last, under my helpful tongue, she cried
out in alarm and felt herself go over the edge. As soon as she did, Louis
hosed us both down with his sperm.
ÒLouis!Ó I cried, my mouth buried in CheyenneÕs cunt. I didnÕt really
think he would do it, perhaps, but he did, and I knew IÕd have to spend an
hour in the tub now getting all his stickiness out. He spurted over me,
then, showing enormous restraint, he waggled over to CheyenneÕs face and
gave her the rest of himself, squirting her right on her nose and then
decorating her lovely brown hair as if it were a chocolate cake in search
of vanilla icing.
ÒOh, Louis!Ó Cheyenne breathed, but she was otherwise to
pleasurably entertained by my mouth to protest. I finished her, then lifted
my face and kissed LouisÕs leg. He smiled at me. There were drippings
left, and he turned and offered to sprinkle them over me. I let him. It was
too late now. I was doomed to the bath anyhow.
After all of us were spent we went our separate ways. Louis and
Cheyenne, and I, however, agreed to take our bath together. As the sun set
outside, we all spent the next hour in my bathtub in my room. We soaped
each otherÕs privates, Louis doing Cheyenne and I very tenderly, so as not
to hurt us. Then Cheyenne and I did him. We washed our hair, too,
Cheyenne and I, and it took awhile to get LouisÕs very virile sperm out of
our hair, but Louis helped a little, massaging our scalps and kissing our
eyelids.
Afterwards, standing outside the tub and patting each other down
with a towel, Cheyenne made a suggestion. ÒLetÕs go downstairs and get a
bite to eat and then come back up and start all over again, in bed,Ó she
said. Her eyes glowed. Despite my whipping I felt renewed somehow
within my cunny lips and along the tips of my tits. My bottom felt better,
my weal sinking back down flush with my skin. I looked at her. She looked
at me. Louis gazed at us with a maleÕs possessiveness and we both
giggled as we watched his cock begin to rise.
ÒJust tongues this time, no whip,Ó I said to Cheyenne.
ÒYes, please,Ó she answered.
ÒOkay,Ó I agreed. We leaned into each other, our hands at our sides,
and let our tongues touch, opening our mouths to let them out. Louis
caressed our bottoms.
ÒCome on! IÕm hungry!Ó Cheyenne said suddenly, breaking our kiss.
We couldnÕt continue or weÕd wind up going all night on empty stomachs.
She turned and took my hand and we walked together to the bathroom door.
Cheyenne beckoned for Louis who was beside us like a hound in heat, and
she took his hand also. Together we marched downstairs, quite naked.
Nobody minded seeing us munching in the kitchen. Our bodies were lithe
and tanned. Our boobies were cute and full and white, a nice contrast to
our limbs and tummies, and our bottoms matched our boobs, with even my
marks from my whipping by Bambi almost gone. CheyenneÕs bottom had
yet to feel the lash. Louis, of course, was a real attention getter, with his
giant organ sticking straight up by now, an open invitation to any female
within 200 miles. We found ourselves joined by curious spectators in the
kitchen, and the recipients of many offers, but we declined them all. When
we were done eating we retreated upstairs, where some kind soul had
changed my bedsheets yet again. But we knew theyÕd soon require
changing yet again, for as soon as we hit the sheets Louis was already
dripping pre-cum on them. Cheyenne and I quickly set about getting each
other moist also. We spent the night tearing the bed apart, moaning and
crying aloud and loving each other til dawn. No whips, no punishments,
just the sensuous torture of delicate tongues and probing fingers and,
amidst it all, LouisÕs powerful cock.
ÒItÕs morning, time to go to sleep,Ó Cheyenne said to me at last. She
giggled and took my face in her hands and kissed me.
ÒYeth,Ó I answered. LouisÕs groin was against my bottom but he was
utterly spent now. There was a wet spot under my hip. My cunny and
bottomhole ached with his comings and goings. Cheyenne was as ravaged
as me. I felt down between her legs for her slit and she winced as I
touched it.
ÒOh, please donÕt,Ó she begged.
ÒIÕm worn out too,Ó I admitted. And, speaking in hushed tones like
that to each other in the fresh light of dawn, we fell into a deep,
exhausted sleep.
30
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