Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
No. 28 Thursday June 22, 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 Twenty-Seven
by Andrew Roller
Chapter Fifteen
My boyfriend says he is a novice compared even to our hostess,
and would she lend him guidance so that he does not ruin my lovely
bottom. She says she is not in business to ruin bottoms but to take
sexual ecstasy to new heights, for both slave and master. She says she
will be glad to assist him in learning how to dominate without injuring,
teaching him what little she knows. And she will help me learn the
thrill of being a slave. Of being thought of every minute, even if the
people making me the center of attention are doing horrid things to me.
My boyfriend asks why it is necessary for horrid things to be done to
someone in order for the non-slaves to be willing to make them the
center of attention and to constantly think of them and attend to them.
Our hostess considers. Then she replies that humans are by
nature sexual and take pleasure in the bodies of others, right down to
their most intimate parts, such as the asshole. She says that seeing
someone you love naked and sweating and hard at work, especially
sexually oriented work, is pleasurable. And she says certain harmless
elements of pain, such as being bonked on the head in a Laurel and Hardy
film also bring enjoyment. So seeing in real life someone moving their
very desirable bottom in exaggerated motions as a result of the
infliction of harmless, temporary pain is very appealing.
This is why bondage and discipline exists, she says. To see highly
desirable parts of the body that are normally hidden bared and forced to
move in lurid, exaggerated ways. To see normally sedate people forced
to yelp and scream and writhe even as they also become sexually
aroused. It is a form of play, with only the rules that the participants
themselves set. It is highly sexually charged and orgasms, even
multiple orgasms, are a normal result of such activity. So we have
loved ones forced to show off the most desirable parts of their bodies,
which are then manipulated by the master. He derives sexual
satisfaction from interacting with these most intimate portions of the
flesh and especially from seeing the emotional reactions of the
possessor of the sexual organs. Yet, unlike normal sex, the master
remains detached, his sexual organs not at all able to be manipulated by
the one who is his victim. So he is making his victim display all her
intimate regions and causing intense emotions in her by his own hand
yet she can in no way force him to suffer equally with her, as in normal
coitus. He certainly feels sexual pleasure at what he is doing. The
sight alone of her intimate regions is enough for that. He may pleasure
himself along with her or he may not, as he chooses, perhaps starting
and stopping whilst she is constantly at his mercy.
And that is the thrill for the slave. She is no longer in control.
Her most intimate regions have been surrendered to another. He
decides whether her intimate zones, her sexual organs, feel pleasure or
pain, or both, and when. Her most private parts are first bared, and
then she is made helpless to control their responses. She cannot even
control whether she gasps or screams or laughs or cries.
So this is the thrill for both master and slave. The master in
possessing so much, the slave in possessing so little. Of course the
whole thing is shot through continually with sexual energy. There is
hardly a moment when sex is not present in some form, including even
such mundane things as going to the bathroom or doing chores around
the house. So the whole experience from start to finish is one long
sexual delight. The pain involved merely deepens the sexual flush, so to
speak, by adding new elements of total control over another's sexual
organs, and total helplessness for the slave over her own organs.
Of course people are loth to yield the center of attention to
someone else in the conventional world and certainly spend very little
time thinking of the needs of their fellow man. But when rewarded
with the payoff of a sexual rush, controlling the sex organs of another,
observing and exploring them in intimate detail regardless of what the
possessor wishes, and most importantly controlling the emotional
state of the possessor, then people are willing to reach out and think of
someone and make them the center of attention. Hence this "horrid
things" is merely the thrill of sex, suffused with a kind of altruism.
For the master must always be thinking of his slave, if he is a good
master, even if he is only thinking of her dislikes so he can serve those
up to her. And the slave knows she is being thought of every moment.
Right down to her bottom and pussy.
Standing there, handcuffed and hobbled, I felt a strange thrill
wash over me as I listened to our hostess' words. Perhaps it was just
the sexual energy of the place, what with the two of them masturbating
and little Amy sprawled bawling and bare as a baby under the
relentless cane.
I looked over at my boyfriend. How happy he looked, and Rose also
(I named her that now, in my mind, because of her panties). Languidly
they stroked their genitals, almost not thinking about it, yet shivering
occasionally under the tremor of an impending orgasm. Neither had
come yet, there was no hurry. They savored the feeling in their loins of
continual excitation, rising and falling, ebbing and flowing forth
brightly.
"I need it too," I breathed to my boyfriend, hoping to be stroked
also. He and Rose thought I meant the cane.
"Mmm, she is so sweet," Rose said of me. Her sapphic eyes
regarded me with new relish, the savor of possession. "Let me have
first crack at her."
"I know, I know you do," my boyfriend was saying to me. "That's
why you came here." I parted my lips to speak but he gently, quickly
gagged me with a broad cloth. He put a finger beneath my nostrils to
see that I could breathe, then, at Rose's insistence he laid me down
right atop Amy.
The small blonde grunted under my weight. She was a beast of
burden now. I felt her hot tush wiggling against my mound. Master (I
thought no more of him as my equal, my boyfriend) parted my legs. He
removed the chain that had linked my ankles. Rose drew my arms out
and handcuffed them, just as Amy's were.
Why did I not resist, I have wondered since. Perhaps it was the
overwhelming romance of the snow, the cabin, the fire in the hearth. It
was the setting a young girl dreams about for lovemaking. And my
master was undeniably handsome. Young, vigorous, large in all his
aspects. And Rose, the self-taught, homemade dominatrix, was
endearing. I watched over my shoulder now as she caressingly rubbed
salve onto my bottom. She said she wanted it to stay nice and healthy,
even as she whipped it.
"There is coconut oil and other nutrients in this," she said of the
oil, looking at me as she spoke. "Your heiney will be well nourished by
it. I want you to have just as perfect a bottom when this is all over as
you do now. Of course, you'll need time to recover, but I consider that
part of the fun. It's delicious to have a sensitized rump that can barely
sit on anything. Very female, you know. It makes you very delicate."
She rose and shook her breasts. Her lovely black hair tossed
itself back, a mane of tumbling, lustrous curls. Quickly she stripped
her jeans the rest of the way down her legs. Then she pushed down her
panties so that they clung to the tops of her thighs, leaving her pussy
unobstructed. With careful fingers, ladylike, she found her clitty and
resumed rubbing it.
"Now this is going to hurt darling," Rose said to me brightly. "I
want you to kick and scream as loud as you wish. No one can hear you
within these specially built cabins. And your gag should help, of
course. So let yourself go, cry if you wish, but keep your legs well
apart and your ass proudly presented. I don't want to have to tie your
feet. I want you to be courageous and show me how mature you are."
She promised she would wait between each stroke to let me savor it, to
make the punishment last as long as possible. And then she began.
"EEEEeee!" I keened as the cane stung into my already hot flesh. I
ground my mound against Amy's swollen cheeks, making her yelp that I
was hurting her. There was no help for that. Two more strokes sent me
gyrating shamelessly like some whore in heat upon her. Master rubbed
himself more vigorously, I saw in a well-placed mirror, obviously
ecstatic at the rare sight of a female beating two others, all of us
sweet as centerfolds.
The cane bit me again and again, sometimes harder, sometimes
softly. I tried rolling over after a particularly harsh one but regained
my composure after some soothing encouragement from Rose. I was
crying now, uncontrollably, she said it was okay. Beneath me Amy was
sobbing also.
A riding crop was tried next, briskly slapping its leather loop
upon my fanny. Rose asked which I liked better, it or the cane. I shook
my head no, no, liking neither. She told me to try it a new way, to kneel
on the carpet, resting my knees on either side of Amy's waist. I
crouched as ordered. This left Amy's bottom bare, made my cunt
display itself like some ripe fruit, waiting to be plucked from between
my obscenely spread thighs.
Bitterly the crop raked my soft, tender cheeks, so white only an
hour ago, now sore and red. Coltishly I bucked under each blow. My
breasts swung beneath me, freely, stiff nippled and excited despite my
torment. I wished for someone to grab them, milk them, suck them dry.
I gazed through my tears into the mirror at master's cock. It seemed to
aim right at my cunt. He still stroked it lovingly, occasionally cupping
his balls and squeezing them as if to hold back some sudden onrush of
semen.
Amy too received the crop now, alternately with me. She reared
up and banged my mound, that which she had so complained about
touching her earlier. She rent the air with abandon, screaming anew.
Strangely, I wished to scold her. She seemed overwrought to me, as if
just yelling for the hell of it, to make a scene, to be heard. I was glad
when I heard the crop hit her bottom. Let her feel it then, hard, if she
was going to scream so loudly. My ears hurt from it.
After a bit Rose said we must pause and refresh ourselves. Amy
and I were uncuffed but then recuffed as we remained in position upon
the carpet. Our hands were put safely behind our back, so we could not
cover the delectable view of our titties and cunts. And, of course, to
make us totally reliant on our masters.
Our bottoms chafed and abraded, our legs stiff, Amy and I were
helped to stand up, which we accomplished with difficulty. At once we
queasily made to rub our bottoms with our fingers, found little solace
in it. Then, Amy padding barefoot and I in my boots, we were led to the
kitchen. There we stood (not daring to sit) as Rose prepared coffee and
got master to slice up some cheese. Rose fed Amy bits of cheese and
washed it down with coffee. She did not want either of us drinking
wine, she said, she wanted us totally aware throughout our punishment.
Master lifted my gag and I meant to protest but felt a sudden rush of
eroticism as he fed me the first morsel of cheese. I was naked, raw,
quivering, my tongue and my pussy wet. My legs trembled, still
uncertain in their standing. I needed a bed. A big, sumptuous bed with
a man with a hard, demanding cock inside the sheets with me, forcing
me, making me do things his way, demanding new heights of
performance from me.
I did not protest. I did not complain. I sniffled and Rose wiped
my nose, even as master fed me. She was lovely, so close, her body
bewitching me with its softness, its roundnesses that jiggled so
deliciously when she walked, moved. I wanted her in bed with me too,
parting me, licking me, encouraging me. I thrust my hips forward as I
ate. Master noticed and caressed me softly through my pubic hairs with
his fingers, not touching my cunt though. His dick waggled against my
thigh, banging it. I wished I could reach out and hold it. He reached
down then and touched my clitty, stroked me there, then stroked his
penis, then me again. All the while he kept lifting bits of cheese to my
lips, then coffee.
Amy and I were taken next to the bedroom. I caught my breath at
the sight of a big brass four-poster canopy bed. The curtains at the
rear of the bed were drawn back and Amy and I were put over the
brass-poled baseboard. Heels were slipped onto Amy's feet so that she
stood beside me with her fanny perfectly elevated. I wished we could
be in the bed, instead of standing behind it, but my gag kept me from
suggesting anything at all. She and I were bent forward until our
cheeks touched the coverlet. Our heads were turned to face one
another. We were told to extend our tongues to each other, to kiss. We
obeyed as best we could, our hips bumping.
A leather belt was brought out behind us. I heard its slithering,
found I could view my destruction once again in a helpfully positioned
mirror, found to my fright I could even see the state of my own bottom
through a double reflection.
Rose drew back the strap. Her body was lithe, sexy, appealing
even in this most threatening of postures. I felt the juicy splatting of
the strap then, full across my bottom, lifting me up off my feet. I
hollered. New tears welled in my eyes.
With slow, savoring strokes Rose and master led me through the
long night, a night of unremitting punishment, of naked agony. In the
morning I was soundly fucked by both of them, then left to rest with
Amy until our time came to perform bare-bottomed chores.
Chapter Sixteen
I spent the next two weeks back at the count's recovering from
my ordeal. He took great interest in my condition and inspected me
daily, supervising my recovery like a doctor. His servants pampered me
as if I were an Aztec princess, recuperating after being sacrificed upon
the altar of the Sun God.
Julie, who had never seen such a thoroughly chastised bottom,
spent much of our first day together staring at it, whilst I lay on my
belly in bed and described to her how it had gotten that way. She urged
me not to leave out a single detail of my punishment. She wept for me
as I told her of my agony under each of the different implements.
When my bottom could stand it Julie rubbed salve onto it and took
charge of nursing my twin globes back to health. Slowly the weals and
bruises faded. The long whippy marks disappeared. At last my hiney
returned to its perfect pearly whiteness, as if no one had ever laid a
hand on it. This was on the last scheduled day of our month's
enslavement to the count.
"Come, girls, there's someone I want you to meet," he said as we
packed our things. He accepted our imminent departure with
equanimity. Our studded collars had been removed that morning. No
doubt by evening they would already be clasped about the throats of
two new girls.
We followed the count downstairs and into the parlor. We were
fully dressed, ready to go. It felt strange to be wearing clothing again.
Suddenly my eyes fell upon a familiar countenance, and bust. It was
Helga!
D R E A M G I R L S N E W S
COPYRIGHT STRATEGIES
by Andrew Roller
There you are, pounding out your latest story for a.s.s. And suddenly
you wonder, ÒWhat if this story were to Ôhit it big?Õ Do I have any rights
left to me if I post this? Should I write, ÔCopyright 1995 by meÕ on this,
or would that prevent archivists from saving my work?
1. You do not need to write ÔCopyright 1995 by meÕ on your story.
The minute you type out the words of your story, they are yours. Writing
ÔCopyright 1995 by meÕ gives you additional rights in a court case that
make it easier for you to prove your case.
2. What about ÒAll Rights ReservedÓ? That phrase applies to one
country in the world. It is in South America. It does not fully comply
with standard copyright law. Hence the need for ÒAll Rights Reserved.Ó
(Or, rather, the reason why you probably just want to ignore it.) (It does
sound cool, though, doesnÕt it?)
3. ÒFair UseÓ (invented as a result of uncontrolled xeroxing) allows
archivists, students, and others to make copies for their own use.
However, different electronic-text archivists have differing opinions on
copyright law with regard to electronic-text. Some of them worry over
things like copyright notices, and fail to save electronic-text stories that
have copyright notices on them. This is why I leave the copyright notice
off of my stories.
4. Thanks to computer software companies and their Òlicensing
agreements,Ó the law in electronic copying (of computer materials) has
not followed the path of Òfair useÓ (of paper text). (At least to my
knowledge.) This is why some archivists of computer texts worry. Hence,
you may wish to devise your own copyright notice and post it occasionally
with your work. HereÕs one that I have written (below). You can copy it
and modify it for your own stories if you want to.
Archivists are encouraged to archive my work. I WANT it saved.
Anything I have posted on Usenet is obviously freely distributable
throughout Usenet, and is available to all Usenet users for copying onto
their computers. If you want to e-mail a copy to your friend, please feel
free to do so. If you want to copy my text (intact) onto your (free-of-
charge) bbs, thatÕs o.k. too.
ÒI will release all Ôelectronic disseminationÕ rights to my stories IF
A.S.S. IS BANNED in America,Ó quoted from TuesdayÕs article. This
ÒreleaseÓ refers solely to dissemination of my computerized text, intact,
as described in the paragraph above. (So we are there already.) The
ÒreleaseÓ does not refer to Òfor profitÓ dissemination of my computerized
text. (I retain those rights.)
ÒElectronic disseminationÓ does not refer to the dissemination of
my work in other electronic formats (other than computerized text). Such
as, but not limited to: movies, VHS tapes, records, cable-TV, etc. (profit
or non-profit). (I retain those rights.)
I have never been on the World Wide Web yet so I am retaining all
rights with regard to it at this time, as well as all rights that may inhere
in future methods of dissemination. (Obviously, if A.S.S. is banned, I
would have no objection to my work being distributed on the Web in the
non-profit manner described above.)
There is no ÒconsiderationÓ being received by me for the terms
stated above. They are not intended to create either a bilateral or
unilateral contract between myself and the reader.
ATTENTION MEXICAN FISHERMEN!
by holy joe
I realize that sometimes when you are out fishing in your boat your
net becomes entangled with the net of an American boat. They yell nasty
things at you, and you are frustrated, because you do not know any English.
You have no English epithets that you can yell back at them.
I feel your pain.
Here are some epithets you can yell back at them:
NET WAR!
FREE THE NET!
Holy Moly, Ace Reporter (and Cub Scout) says you should yell Larry
Niven and Jerry PournelleÕs phrase, ÒTHINK OF IT AS EVOLUTION IN
ACTION.Ó He says you should yell this because the Christian Right does
not believe in evolution. Obviously, this is the problem with hiring a Cub
Scout to be your Ace Reporter. They simply have no idea what is going on.
NOTE: If you are a Dreamgirls e-mail subscriber, the Òlast callÓ for
Òbacking upÓ the Chambers of Love story will be occurring soon. (As the
story will be ending soon, and we will be moving on to a new story.) If you
are missing parts of the story let me know and I will put you on the
Òbacking upÓ list.
Free Naughty Naked Dreamgirls e-mail subscriptions: send (18 or up)
age statement to: roller666@aol.com Free Naughty Naked Dreamgirls
minicomics: send a greeting-card SASE, age statement to: Jim
Corrigan, P.O. Box 3663, Phenix City, AL 36868 U.S.A. Naughty Naked
Dreamgirls (Library of Congress ISSN: 1070-1427). Chat:
alt.sex.stories.d END OF 28 EMISSION