Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
Issue No. 119 alt.sex.stories
D R E A M G I R L S S T O R I E S
Love Child
Part Twelve
by Andrew Roller
Chapter Three
Earlier Arthur had asked Mandy and me to suck his dick, to get
things started. I suppose you had to start a party somehow in a room
like this, and to Arthur, at least, bluntly asking two girls to suck him
was just about the best way you could do it. I'd coyly declined. Mandy
wished to also, but mistress would not let her. She taught Mandy how
to suck properly then, me watching, the two of them down on their
knees taking turns with his member. I'd stood just off to the side,
watching intently, a little girl afraid to go meet Santa.
Arthur had ignored me since then, perhaps thinking me silly and
immature. I'd watched as he'd almost come in Mandy's mouth, drooling
pre-cum over her licking tongue. Then IÕd watched as he and mistress
had lovingly strapped her over the trestle. She did not look to be so
well loved now, getting her bottom stung. She began bawling.
"Shush, darling, you can take a few more," mistress admonished.
"You would not want me to cut short your training, would you?" Mandy,
sobbing loudly, finally shook her head no. I was amazed. Despite her
pain, despite the awful hurting in her bottom, she had shaken her head
ÔnoÕ to the prospect of being released. Why, after such antics? SheÕd
been straining mightily at her bonds, pleading through her gag. Yet,
when finally asked, she somehow found the courage to say Ôno.Õ I
admired her bravery, even as my hands clung to my own silken
asscheeks, wondering if I would be so brave. Perhaps it was the
imminent prospect of ArthurÕs dick going up her that emboldened her.
It was fully greased now, gleaming like hard steel before her. Perhaps
she feared that I would be put over the trestle and receive him instead.
The girl understood now, didnÕt she? She was the center of attention,
not me. Were we to trade places, she would be left in a corner, sobbing,
without her reward, while Arthur loved me instead. No, she would go
the full course. She would remain over the trestle for however long
mistress wished, provided she got that big cock as her prize in the end.
Ah, sex was strange, I thought. Girls with pussies thought of nothing
but cocks, boys with cocks thought of nothing but pussies. How could
God have created such a world? I still believed in him, I did, even if I
didnÕt obey him too well. Someday IÕd become a mom and reform
myself. Then IÕd join the PTA and worry about the virtue of little girls,
and demand more police to protect them. But now, here, such matters
were Ôoutside the scope,Õ as one might say. Not irrelevant, no, just
beyond where my mind was at the moment. I was going to get mine, and
Mandy hers, and she was going to make damn sure she was first. I
should not have refused to suck. I should have knelt and laved ArthurÕs
cock with my tongue, told him how big it was, how much I loved it. And
I truly loved it. As much as my poor teddy bear, more, I guess, since IÕd
left teddy at the generalÕs. Perhaps some other girl was hugging teddy
now, telling him sheÕd never give in, sheÕd remain a virgin forever. ÔIÕll
be Mother Theresa,Õ sheÕd assure her teddy, once my teddy. ÔYes, Mother
Theresa! No Missionary Position for me!Õ Teddy would smile his
inimitable smile. His coal black eyes would twinkle. And then some
boyfriend would knock at the door, and sheÕd toss teddy down,
forgetting him instantly. Not meaning to, you know, just doing it,
unthinkingly. HeÕd wait, and eventually another girl would find him.
Another wannabe for the nunnery, except sheÕd wind up leaving teddy
behind, just as I had. I opened my ass with my fingers. I felt the air
caress it, cool my little sphincter. Why, oh why was I being such a bad,
bad girl? I squished my bottomcheeks shut. Naughty! And then I
realized what a naughty girl like me needed. Alas, Mandy was already
getting it. A good spanking.
"Good, then, for I know you are a big girl and you have a nice big
bottom which was made just for this,Ó mistress was saying to Mandy.
She patted MandyÕs bottom, a welcome relief from the stinging cane.
Mandy jerked just the same, not expecting a light pat, an admiring pat.
She shuddered in her bonds, letting her tears flow freely down her
cheeks. They blushed, her bottom blushed even more, all cut up now
with pink and red stripes. ÒWait until Arthur gets himself into you,
which I hope he isn't too enormous to do,Ó mistress teased Mandy. ÒFor
you will truly bloom from the warmth of the cane and his hot seed.Ó
She laughed, a pretty laugh, not one youÕd expect to find in a horrid
dungeon like this. She was strange, mistress, haughty one minute, kind
the next. Yet she was always firm. There was no escaping her wishes.
She would make you want what she wanted. She would make you nod
the way she wished for you to nod. Mistress stroked along the sides of
MandyÕs belly, pressed as it was to the leather pad, as if to prevent
pregnancy. ÒYou would bless us with quintuplets nine months from now
were it not for the pill,Ó mistress concluded, with a glance at ArthurÕs
tool. He was such a Man, cock-ready, his ass flexing with each strike
of the cane, as if he himself knew its bite. Perhaps he did. We all
would, I feared, before the night was through. Mistress seemed to be
enjoying herself most excellently with it.
Swoosh! and Swish! came the cane again, making Mandy's
beleaguered bottom lurch uncontrollably. Only her bonds kept her from
flying off the trestle. Her cheeks clenched, squeezed tight, like living
things hunched against some acid rain, then bounded out, as if to throw
off the burning pain. Of course it was at this opportune moment that
mistress laid in her next stroke, claiming that the bottom was offering
itself up for more. Sometimes she waited though, to be unpredictable.
There was no need to hurry. Only the bottom and the cane were
important, the cane and the bottom, their interaction, nothing else.
Each stroke could be savored, its effects left to linger for minutes
afterward. The pain, so biting and severe (though it could have been
worse, mistress wished to go relatively easy on a newcomer like
Mandy); the tensing of sexual desire within us all at the sight of so
helpless a figure, naked and quivering, her breasts drooping in their
fullness, jaggling about at every bite, stiff nippled, the legs so long,
sleek, wide-spread, her fig displayed neatly, tightly beneath her wobbly
bottom.
Mistress stopped, relishing her handiwork on Mandy's backside.
She traced several freshly sewn weals with her fingertip, making
Mandy shudder uncontrollably. The girl's face, so pretty, was a mask of
agony now, eyes clouded with tears, lips pouting and sad. Yet despite
her newly damaged bottom and grief stricken face, Mandy seemed more
beautiful than ever, some erotic girl-goddess laid out for inspection
before Zeus. Arthur indeed strode forward at this moment, his cock
ready, his face openly admiring the girl's sleek form. Only the
immodest cheeks of her bottom were defiled, all else was as sleek and
smooth and flawless as ever. At the beach no one would have noticed
her hurt in ordinary panties.
Arthur grasped her thighs; holding them manfully he pulled her
even higher, her bonds straining, stretching, he spread her yet wider.
For a moment his cock shimmered on the air, then he thrust his hips
forward and lodged himself in her ass.
"Aaaack!" Mandy cried at the sudden invasion. She was so tight he
could barely get the plum of his cockhead inside. He gave another
thrust, another, finally lodging just the head fully within. The rest
stuck startlingly out of her. It was like some fleshy post connected
them, one end in her ass and the other connected, ingrown, just above
his balls. Mistress squeezed his pouch, putting yet more pressure on
his already constricted balls.
"Sperm her, darling," mistress cooed. Perhaps she wished to
protect Mandy from being utterly impaled upon him. Indeed it looked as
if he would split her ass right apart if he tried to get himself up her
more.
Arthur was an old hand at fucking, though, born to the sport and
not easily induced to cum. He seemed almost bored as he wriggled his
hips to gain a better purchase in little Mandy's hole. I'd thought of how
he'd looked when she'd sucked him off. He'd been casual, impressed
with her beauty (which was extraordinary), but nonplussed all the
same. It was almost, in a sense, as if he'd been going to the bathroom
in her mouth. He made sperm in his testicles and girls drew it out from
him, just like that, a sort of regular thing, like milking a cow. Now
poor Mandy was enduring the most extreme and intense moment of her
entire young life, yet to him she was just another girl, another
beautiful female upon which he performed his daily chores.
Mandy, popeyed and snorting, seemed to beg through her gag for
him not to go any deeper. But her head was far from her bottom and
mistress ignored her, preferring instead to helpfully pry her bottom
cheeks wider. I gulped, realizing she had given up sperming him, would
let him stick that awful living tree of a cock right up MandyÕs butt!
ÒNoooo!Ó I cried, softly. Surprised at myself, I blushed. Mistress
glanced up at me. She said nothing, but I could see it all in her eyes.
ÔYouÕre next, darling. YouÕre next. ThatÕs why youÕre here. And IÕm
going to enjoy every minute of it.Õ There was a smile posted on her
lips. She was my chaperone. My chaperone into the world of love. Oh
sure, I might have met a boy on my own, let him get my panties down in
the backseat of a car. But would I ever have wound up in such a place
as this, without her? No, I would not have. Even at my school there
were not stallions like Arthur. I loved every rippling movement of his
body, and yet I so desperately feared him. Especially now, watching
Mandy.
Arthur thrust his hips in quick jerks. Mistress used her hands to
helpfully spread MandyÕs asscheeks. They must be as far apart as
possible, mustnÕt they? Hands still on my own butt, I watched, mouth
agape, horrified yet fascinated at how animalistic it all seemed. A
stallion rutting in a stable, an unwilling filly, a helpful midwife
assisting not at the birth but at the insemination.
"In, in!" I found myself urging, silently at first, then audibly. The
pressure must have been too much for me. I cracked. I wanted Mandy to
have it now. It must be done. It must be finished. The tension must be
relieved. Mistress, eyes on MandyÕs butt, biting her lip, prying, heard
me. She smiled, glanced up at me, then back at Mandy's bottom. I
moved my hips back and forth even as I watched Arthur do so to get
himself up her. I wanted to bring my hands round to my front, touch
myself, but knew it was forbidden. My loins, my nipples were for them
to touch, and theirs for me. A party where one gets naked is a party for
the mutual stimulation of each other. Only by stimulating others are
you permitted to enjoy stimulation yourself.
Arthur drove himself in, almost ruthlessly, as MandyÕs head flew
up, aghast at this new violation. She squawked in horror. Her lips
compressed themselves over her gag, opened, mewling a furious
dissent. She was shaking her head vigorously "no" now, but everyone,
including myself, ignored her. We were mesmerized by the sight of her
bottom being pillaged. How deep would Arthur go? How much of him
could she take? Outside the snow I knew must still be falling, but in
here we were raw and steaming. I was naked, yet almost on the brink
of sweating profusely, though I knew the room's thermometer was set
at a cool 72 degrees.
"A little more, perhaps," mistress advised Arthur, and he gave
another shove. That seemed about as far as he could go, though a
quarter at least of his cock still remained without. He held himself
then, and mistress released Mandy's cheeks so that she might squeeze
him. She did just that, hoping to expel him. Any ordinary male would
have lost himself within such sweet clenchings. Arthur held fast
though, began stroking her thighs, letting them close as much as her
bonds would allow (which was very little). When he had savored his
predicament to the full he looked over at mistress.
"In and out now," she said. "But gently. She is very new and
tender." In gentlemanly fashion he withdrew himself partway, then
ploughed up her again, Mandy bleating anew at the new invasion. Back
again he went, then up her, each stroke sending me shivering into a near
dreamworld of desperate bliss as I watched. I moved my hips in time
with his. We fucked Mandy together, he and I, him with his big penis
and me with my little clitoris, his comfortably embedded in her rear,
mine woefully buzzing unattended.
Mistress walked over to me, knelt down beside me, put a hand on
my shoulder and stroked my inner thighs. Yet she did not touch me
where I wanted her to. She had bigger plans.
"You will be next," she smiled at me. I sensed her heat, her own
growing need. I gazed at her with pale eyes and suddenly pressed my
mouth to hers. We kissed wildly then, swooning, our hands feverishly
rubbing each other everywhere but where we needed it most. Arthur
saw us, grunted his approval, then turned his eyes back to Mandy's butt
and gave her twelve of his finest strokes with his cock. At last he
spurted anew, up her ass this time instead of in her mouth, one selfish
little girl getting all of his sperm.
When he was spent, Arthur walked away. It was just like a male
for him to do that, I thought, watching, with mistress by my side.
There was no parting kiss for Mandy, no thank you for accepting his
seed. Indeed he probably thought she owed him thanks. So he just
walked away, his erection dissipating, as casual now as heÕd been
before, nonchalant, uncaring. He looked like a football hero walking
away from the tackle, leaving the injured behind, lying in a heap.
ÒCome,Ó mistress said. She lifted me to my feet. Elegant, naked,
we walked over to our little rape victim, our sister in love. Mistress
wore her jeans still, but I guessed they would soon be shed. There was
a wiggle in her walk IÕd never seen before. It spoke of need, unfulfilled
desires. I know I myself could barely keep from waggling my butt all
over the place as I stepped along. Not just wiggling it, mind you, not
just swinging my hips, but walking like some cheap whore who needed
it bad and might not even charge admission.
I brushed my locks from my eyes. I mouthed a silent testimony as
I gazed at MandyÕs fanny up close, saw all the marks the cane left. And,
right in between those darling wounded cheeks, her little asshole.
Sperm oozed out of it. I guessed it might not ever close quite so
tightly ever again, though indeed it looked quite tiny and inaccessible
even now. How had Arthur gotten himself within that little hole? I
touched it. I could not resist. Mandy flinched, but her spirit seemed
gone.
ÒDonÕt worry, I wonÕt fuck you with my finger,Ó I whispered.
Mistress laughed.
ÒWe must get her undone,Ó she said. She knelt to untie the
wristlets, the anklets.
ÒShe is undone already,Ó I replied.
ÒNonsense. She has had what she needed, thatÕs all. It was high
time a girl like her got it, too. When the breasts are plump, the bottom
sweetly widened, no longer narrow as her waist, then she must be
introduced to these things. Waiting will only screw her up, make her
crazy. She might try to kill herself, or tattoo herself, or pierce
herself. This is the only piercing she needs. The organ of the male up
her butt, and a little tattooing of the cane across her bottom. How silly
you Americans are, screwing up your girls, when all they need is
screwing?!Ó mistress scolded me. She gazed up at me as her slender
fingers undid MandyÕs legs and arms.
ÒWell, I donÕt live there,Ó I replied.
ÒNo, but your people dominate our entire planet with their
perverted beliefs!Ó mistress answered. Imagine! Her scolding me,
after what sheÕd gotten poor Mandy into. ÒGet down and undo her with
me, these knots are tighter than I thought,Ó mistress ordered me. I
obeyed, kneeling. My breasts jiggled as I knelt. I was conscious of
them, too conscious.
ÒYou tie tight knots,Ó I said.
ÒDonÕt break your nails,Ó mistress warned me. ÒWork slowly. The
knots will come eventually, sooner than you think if you donÕt try to
rush it.Ó
ÒI wonÕt,Ó I replied. I shot her a glance, as if to say, Ôbecause I
know whatÕs coming next.Õ She shook her head, like some preacher
marvelling at the inability of one to be saved. But she would give me
my salvation, I knew, whether I wanted it or not. I worked on the knots
as slowly as I could.
When mistress and I had untied Mandy she just lay there, bent
over the trestle, trembling.
"Oh, do you want more?" mistress laughed.
"Nooo," came from Mandy's still-gagged mouth. It sounded as if
she were mooing. A cow at the milking station.
"Get up, darling," mistress said, lifting the girl by her arm.
Bodily we hefted her up and helped her over to Arthur, who had
retreated to a pile of cushions on the floor. Mandy gaped at him as a
cat does at water. Yet we put her down upon him, and she resisted not.
He enfolded her in his arms. His hand brushed her bottom.
"Yeek!" she squeaked, for her hiney was most tender now, wealed
everywhere (though lightly) from the cane.
"Get some cream for her bottom," mistress ordered me, indicating
a nearby dresser. It had proven already to hold pills and such. I went
and found some balm, returned, knelt down and began gently applying it
to Mandy's seat. The girl squirmed under my touch, not sure if I was
helping. But Arthur held her fast and soon my hands did not feel so
harsh upon her. Her skin felt hot. I rubbed, massaged, felt her bottom
respond with quiverings and clenchings. My breasts shook freely as I
worked. I was a shopgirl, kneeling in a shop in London, doing my duties.
I knew my own seat spread out adorably behind me. Mistress watched,
seemed to be sizing up my bottom. I glanced over my shoulder once, to
check if sheÕd armed herself with anything. No, it was just her,
without any cane or whip. I gulped, turned my head back to Mandy. I
heard mistress laugh behind me. Her chuckle was menacing. It made
me shiver and I know she enjoyed seeing me shivering. I willed myself
to concentrate on my work. I must not think of myself, only of Mandy.
She needed my wholehearted attention, and I intended to give it to her,
if only to forget.
D R E A M G I R L S L E T T E R S
HELP!
(IÕm a writer in search of a publisher!)
M94_LUN@m.kth.se writes: ÒI have written some stories but they are in
Swedish. So I wonder, if I translated my stories into English, would
somebody please post them for me on the Internet? These stories are
quite short. Please e-mail me at M94_LUN@m.kth.se. (My university has
barred access to the alt.sex newsgroups.)Ó
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