Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
No. 13 Wednesday June 7, 1995
alt.stories.erotic alt.sex.stories
D R E A M G I R L S S T O R I E S
Chambers of Love
Part Thirteen
by Andrew Roller
Chapter Six
"Ah, Mistress Predieu," she said, stopping at my place and bending
over me. "How quickly you fall asleep," she said menacingly. I
shuddered, my eyes still closed. "If you're so well rested I'm sure you'll
want to demonstrate to the group tomorrow morning how to properly
take a good caning...from Jim and Steve." Horror shot down my spine.
To my disgust, Mistress Persephone then leaned over and kissed me
fully on the mouth. Boldly, I snored loudly in response. She rose
angrily and walked on. A girl giggled and the mistress turned on her,
promising retribution.
"Is she just playing a role or does she really mean it?" Julie asked
me softly later in the bathroom.
"I don't think it matters, especially with Jim and Steve around," I
said. Julie shivered, agreed. I was busy trying to jimmy open a
window, standing barefoot on an iron heater. Thankfully, the heater
was turned off for the summer.
"Can I help?" Julie asked.
"Yes. Be quiet."
"Okay."
I broke into a sweat, scared to death that we'd be discovered. At
least once we were outside we'd have a fighting chance. In here we
were at the mercy of fate, at the mercy of the bowels and bladders of
the other girls. I knew we didn't have too long before one of them
awoke. Girls were famous for bladders the size of peanuts.
"There, there!" I said finally. "I've got it." I swung the window
open. It creaked. This was an old French building, built during the first
war to house troops. (This had all been explained to us during the
mistress's introductory lecture, after which we'd marched and had a
cafeteria-style meal in the mess hall.)
"Push on my bottom," I hissed.
"What?"
"I can't pull myself up," I said, grasping the window sill and
struggling to do one half-pullup. Suddenly Julie understood and cupped
my bare bottom and shoved. Up I went, nearly toppling out the window.
I sat listening to the night air, squatting on the sill. Not a sound,
save some distant hooting, hooting. An owl circling, somewhere,
yearning for small warm prey. A neatly clipped lawn stretched out
from our building, met thirty feet away with a low stone wall. Nothing
Julie and I couldn't climb over. Maybe they taught the girls here to love
their punishments, so they had no desire to leave.
Beyond the wall lay a ghostly spread of birches, intermingled
with oak and cherry. And then the road. A narrow country road, lightly
traveled, but our only hope of freedom.
"Okay," I whispered to Julie, leaning back. "Give me your hand and
I'll pull you up." She scrambled onto the radiator and I helped her up
onto the sill, which was barely wide enough to accommodate us both.
"Try not to look down," I said, as she caught a dizzying view of
the ground from the second floor.
"We'll break our bones!" she cried.
"Shh! See that tree limb? We can step down onto it."
"Oh. Yeah. Lucky for us it's there. Do you think it's strong enough
to hold us?"
"If it isn't I'm dead. Did you stuff your heels into your purse?"
"Yes." She showed me her purse with the heels sticking out of it.
(Fortunately we'd been assigned pumps for evening wear, along with our
jackboots for marching.)
"Alright. I'm going." I wondered if the limb had been left there to
encourage just such an escape. I stepped down easily onto it and made
my way down it to the tree's trunk, holding on to a limb above me as I
went. Julie followed. No doubt this tree would be well-watched in the
ensuing days, once the punishments had begun. I shimmied down the
trunk, using the occasional branch as a step. I wore my uniform, sans
boots, with the jacket closed over my breasts. (This meant that the
collar had to be left open. The jacket was too small for the entire
front to be closed.)
I leapt down onto the ground and immediately went into a crouch.
A searchlight nearby swung in the night sky, no doubt from somewhere
on the campus. Julie plopped down beside me.
"Okay," I said, pointing. "We go over to that stone wall there. The
rocks are big enough that we can get a hold with our feet and climb it.
It's not too tall, anyway. It must be used mainly to keep people from
seeing in. Follow me. Keep down."
We rushed across the lawn in a stoop. I grasped the rocks of the
wall, stepped up, and found the top. Another step and Julie followed.
As I mounted the wall I spotted trouble. A dog was bounding around the
side of the building, towards us!
"Hurry!" I cried softly as Julie bumbled up behind me. She was not
much of an athlete, except in the bedroom. Her womanly figure slowed
her down. I was still a lean teen.
The dog gamboled up, rose on its hind legs and sniffed Julie's
bottom. Julie lurched and nearly fell backward onto the grass.
"C'mon!" I urged. Julie batted at the dog.
"That dog's nose is wet!"
"Didn't your mother tell you to keep your panties on?"
"I don't have any panties! Neither do you!"
She topped the wall. The dog began barking loudly. As we jumped
down I caught a glimpse of two burly young men rounding the building
to check on the dog. No doubt about it, they were Jim and Steve! They,
at least, were as alert as the owl. With a sinking feeling I realized
their desire to get their hands on us had probably kept them wide
awake.
With a growing sense of urgency and desperation we dropped to
the grass. The vale of birch trees lay before us, and beyond that the
road. We were fortunate to be so far outside Paris, since we were
wearing only our little hats and jackets, but unfortunate in that we
couldn't instantly mingle with the swirls of crowds in the city. I
prayed to God some country bumpkin would come along, someone whom
we could induce to give us a ride.
We raced into the trees as a siren blared out behind us. Twin
flashlights peered into the night. Jim and Steve topped the wall. Their
lights caught our flashing legs and pale bottoms. We were twin moons
disappearing into the night, amongst the birches. They called out but
we ignored them. I prayed they'd prove slow runners, as slow as they
were dim-witted.
A pair of headlights appeared on the road. Gasping, we reached
the strip of asphalt. Like some apparition we appeared before the
lights of a big old 1950's Ford pick-up truck. It shimmied and wheezed
toward us. An odor of pig dung wafted out before it.
"We can't be that naughty, God," I said. "But poor luck is better
than bad."
"God save me!" Julie wheezed. The accomplished young wife was
caught between piggish boys and the real thing. Her big breasts
juddered in the moonlight. Behind us Jim and Steve shouted and I heard
their approaching footfalls. Their flashlights wove aimlessly but ever
nearer through the trees, as they headed towards us.
Creaking, the truck slowed to a gentle stop. High pitched squeals
erupted from the bed.
"Can I hep you gals?" a voice called out. "Need a lift to tomorry's
Pig Show in Trent?" Not waiting to answer I tried the side door of his
cab and it opened. I scrambled up inside the vehicle, turned, and pulled
Julie within.
"Are you girls real?" the driver asked, eyes popping, seeing us
clearly for the first time. Fumbling, he pulled out a pair of plastic
military-issue glasses and shoved them on his face. He gaped, gasped,
made to rub himself, then yanked his hand reluctantly away,
embarrassed. He was a man, unshaven, of about 25 or 30. He was
dressed like a farmer. Noisily he sucked on a toothpick set between his
yellowed teeth. Our savior. Our Prince Galahad. If he could ever quit
staring.
"Hit it!" I ordered. Of course he didn't move. He was shocked
beyond belief. I reached over and jammed my foot down hard on what I
hoped was the gas pedal.
"Ouch!" the man cried as the old heap lurched forward. Somewhere
in back half a dozen prize pigs went sprawling. Amazingly, the Ford
gained speed quickly. Behind us our pursuers dashed up onto the road.
"You girls ain't nice. I don't like you!" the man said. Quickly I
grabbed his face and kissed him on the cheek.
"We're angels," I said. "God has sent us to reward you for being
such a good person."
"Really?" he asked, astonished.
"Keep your eyes on the road." I turned to Julie. "Shut the door."
"Huh?"
"Shut the fucking door, you idiot. You want us to fall out?"
"Oh yeah," she replied, and leaning precariously out swung shut
the side door.
"Drive fast, really fast, but don't crash this thing," I ordered the
farmer.
"Yes, ma'am," he replied. Then, looking over at me, "Is that what I
should say? I don' properly know how to address a angel."
I peered ahead, saying nothing. He looked down at our pussies.
"You two sure are purty for a pair of angels. Mebee I should kill
myself."
Just then I noticed headlights in the gloom behind us, through the
rearview mirror.
"We're in trouble," I said to Julie.
"In trouble?" our driver gasped. "How can angels--"
"Satan is following us," I said, making the sentence up even as I
spoke it. "He's following us. He doesn't want us doing good here on
earth."
"Satan--?!" the credulous farmer gasped. "Satan hisself? But
won't God protect you?"
"It's up to you, Superman," I said, finding his foot and pressing my
heel down upon it. The truck shot forward, faster.
"I cain't drive this fast, Satan or no--" the man cried, eyes wide.
He broke into a sweat. We weaved haplessly between overhanging
trees. They looked like castaways from EuroDisney's haunted mansion.
The lights in the rearview mirror drew nearer.
"These people don't fool around," I gasped, truly frightened now. I
glanced at the farmer. This bumpkin was going to get our bottoms
flayed to the bone, or worse. I made a quick, remorseless decision.
A moment later our savior went flying out the door of his truck,
shoved out by me.
"Sorry, wrong person! Not good enough!" I called after him. I
slammed the door and couldn't help laughing. It eased the tension. But
our pursuers were closing in.
"Why do you suppose he spoke English?" Julie, ever the airhead,
asked. Her wits only seemed truly to be about her when she was
playing the Domme.
"I don't know. Lucky for us he did."
"Where are we going?"
"How the hell should I know? To Macy's."
"Yes, we should stop there first," she agreed. "We need clothes." I
glared at Julie but said nothing. She noticed the lights then, and looked
back.
"Who's following us?"
"The fairy godmother, stupid."
"Oh yeah. Those nasty people from the school! Drive faster!"
The engine screamed. It hadn't hit this speed in years. Under my
breath I urged it on. I wished I could promise it a blowjob.
A gunshot rang out. Julie screamed and ducked.
"They're aiming for the tires, I'm sure," I shouted. "They don't
want any dead girls on their hands."
"We could--could shoot back," Julie offered, now crouching in the
footwell in front of her seat. For once, I thought, you've got a bright
idea. I turned and, sure enough, there was a shotgun hung inside our
rear window.
"See if that thing's loaded," I said, pointing.
"I've never handled a gun before," Julie said, still crouching.
"If you value your ass you will now." Julie reached up and
gingerly took the gun.
"Is it loaded?"
"How should I know?"
"Here, stuff some kleenex in your ears," I said, pulling my heels
from my purse and fetching a wad of the stuff. I jammed some in my
ears. Julie took a wad herself and stuffed her ears.
"I hear these things are loud."
"Yeah. Stick it out the window. Keep it as far away from your
face as you can. There's no need to aim. We can probably scare them
off. They're probably worried as heck that we're going to crash this
thing and kill ourselves."
"Okay," Julie gasped, sticking her neck out and then her shoulders,
struggling with the gun. I glanced over at her. "Moll Julie" was about
to show our guests where they could stick themselves.
BLOOM! Pigs squealed and cowered at the sound.
"It's loaded!" Julie cried happily. The car behind us slowed. For
the first time I saw that it was a black limo. No doubt in my mind now
that we were dealing with the "school."
"Fire again!" I shouted. It was working. But smoke began rising
from the hood of our car.
KA-BLOOM! The gun was rusty, choking. I couldn't trust it to
deliver a third round without taking part of Julie's face with it.
"It's getting hot!" Julie cried of the weapon.
"Hang onto it for a sec." Our pursuers drew back. I rounded a
curve. "Chuck it!"
With relief Julie tossed the gun into the woods. She leaned back
inside.
"That's all its got," I said. "But thank God it had two rounds left
to it."
"I was afraid of it, really afraid," Julie gasped, her hand at her
throat. "What do we do now?" She had her jacket buttoned in the
regulation manner, with her boobies sticking out. I laughed to myself.
It was the first time I'd noticed it.
"We're going to become bandits," I said. "Sound fun?" I eased back
on the gas pedal, hoping the strain on the engine would ease.
"I can't see them anymore," Julie said, gazing into the forest
behind us.
"Thank God. They're not criminals, I guess. But they do have a
zealous mistress running the place."
"Do you think they'll be looking for us tomorrow morning? Calling
the police?"
"I don't know. The age of consent laws are more liberal here.
Still, I doubt they'd call up the cops and say 'Two girls have escaped
from our boarding school and we need them back so we can whip them.'"
"What do you mean we've got to be bandits?" she asked. I looked
directly at her tits. "Oh, yeah," she said. "Need clothes. No money."
We tooled through the light of a newly risen moon as the forest
thinned out and faded behind us. Fields sprang up on either side. Corn,
neck high, bordered by fences. In the bed of the truck the pigs shuffled
about in their wire cages and settled down. Well, we had food anyway.
Nah.
I found a darkened country store and pulled in behind it.
"With luck this will be the only place we need to hit," I whispered.
I couldn't decide whether to let the truck run or turn it off. It was
extremely noisy. Finally I stopped the motor. Hopefully it would start
again.
I leapt down. Quietly I approached the store. Julie followed.
There seemed to be no one around. Seeing a shed I instinctively tried
the handle. It opened. I searched about, tripping over buckets, rakes.
Then I found what I knew I'd need. Thank God for eight hours of
television viewing per day. I dragged a sledgehammer out of the shed.
"The back door's locked," Julie called out. "Should I go around and
try the front?" Grunting, I lifted the heavy hammer and walked it over
to her.
"Get out of the way," I said, sweating. Struggling I lifted the
hammer and let it fall. With a crash I broke the door handle off. Julie
leapt back, fearful for her toes. I kicked in the door. I felt strange,
sexy. We were wearing our heels now. I didn't need to get any dirtier
than I already had. I brushed spider webs off me from the shed.
"Okay," I said. "Make it quick. Grab anything that looks
fashionable, food too. I'll try the register." I dragged the hammer
through the store. Lifting the hammer once more, I crashed it down
onto the cash register. Instantly an alarm went off. In the distance a
dog began barking. I popped open the ruined register and found a modest
amount of bills and coins inside. I made to stuff them into my pockets
and found I had none. The ones on my jacket were merely decorative.
I scrabbled around for a paper bag and found one. I stuffed our
loot inside it. Julie had a clutch of clothes in her hands. I grabbed a
Twinkie and stuffed it between my teeth. Its cellophane wrapping
glowed merrily, seemingly illuminating my features with reflected
moonlight.
"Okay, let's go," I hissed. We turned and ran from the store.
In the truck I found the engine as obstinate as ever. Finally it
started. We coughed out of the parking lot, the truck shivering from
side to side as the tormented engine struggled to give us one last drive.
"This is the scenic route," I said, turning into a grove of trees,
away from our forest road that had now become a main road.
"I hope it doesn't dead end."
"I hope it doesn't lead directly to the house of the people who own
the store."
***
In the early light of morning we wheezed into Paris. I got Julie to
button her jacket so that we wouldn't be so obvious to our fellow
drivers. We'd pulled some jeans on from the store. We still hadn't any
panties.
"We'll have to find a room," I said.
"I hope we've got enough," Julie said, sorting through the bills,
straightening them.
"You'll have to be the one to go inside," I said, pulling into the
parking lot of what looked like a suitable place. "I look too young."
"Okay," Julie agreed.
"I'll leave the engine running."
She walked inside, her too tight jeans giving her bottom a
deliciously snug look. Her hips swayed as sexily as ever. Julie was
unconscious, of course, of her alluring manner, having been extremely
beautiful all her life. She was a natural, a natural sex goddess. I
wished we didn't look so much like the stuff of men's fantasies.
"Okay," Julie said, returning a moment later. "I got a discount." A
man peered delightedly from the motel office window.
I parked the car at the end of the motel, behind the building,
seemingly under a tree to give it shade, but really to hide it. We
walked our few (stolen) possessions up to our room and let ourselves
inside.
W H A T NO SEX?! writes quick2.cum.
Hey, man, this is literature. There will be lots of sex on Friday to
make up for the lack of sex today. (We had to advance the story, you
know--minor details like that do have to intrude sometimes...) -h.j.
O K L A H O M O my ass! Writes 1@toggaf. about our Sunday issue.
SIR: As Editor in Chief I, holy joe, sincerely apologize. You must
understand that our young cub reporter Holy Moly is still learning his
spelling. Just yesterday I caught him spelling a certain eastern state as
ÒCuntetiquette.Ó
FREE minicomics! Send a greeting-card SASE to: Jim Corrigan, P.O. Box
3663, Phenix City, AL 36868. NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS (Library of
Congress ISSN: 1070-1427): sex stories. (Include age statement-18 or
over.) DREAMGIRLS WITH SHAMAN: poetry. COMIC UPDATE (ISSN: 0894-
5195): small press comix. Chat: alt.sex.stories.d END OF 13 EMISSION