Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
FREE! Internet Edition May 28, 1995
D R E A M G I R L S S T O R I E S
Chambers of Love
Part Three
by Andrew Roller
Chapter Two
Oh, why had I let them talk me into being deflowered? Surely a
girl could be satisfied with the ordinary route, why did they need to
push things up where God intended for things to only come out? I
chastised myself for letting myself get into this fix even as Julie and
Dan went about selecting a whip for my bottom.
"Oh me, oh my, I thought I was only in for a spanking," I said to
myself.
"Too thin, it would cut her terribly," Dan admonished. Julie picked
up another whip, this one flaring out at the end into half-a-dozen broad
flat tails.
"Yes, a good starter," Dan agreed. "Give me a few licks of it to
test it and practise your hand." Graciously he turned about and
presented his lovely bare haunches. Julie smirked and struck lightly at
first, then gave him a harsh final blow that sent him howling, dancing
around the room. His erect cock bobbed up and down with erotic
abandon. His balls swung like ringing church bells.
"The whip does have its advantages," I thought, breathtakingly
admiring Dan's agony, even as I dreaded being made to put on a similar
show for him.
Julie strode up to me and began by caressing me lightly all over
my doomed fundament. This was her first real chance to admire my
butt, and she took every advantage of it, despite being a woman herself.
Between us my bottom was skinnier, yet stuck out more wilfully, due
to my young age. Hers was full and round, well-fatted yet not
excessively so. Between us we sported the very pinnacle of bottoms
for each of our age groups. And Dan, I might add, had a tight compact
ass that looked like it spent many hours squeezing relentlessly as he
fucked his wife. All three of us, our perfect bottoms bare, were about
to party in a serious new way.
"I'm going to thrash you while you thrash her," Dan told his wife,
plucking a particularly thin whip from the wall.
"Dan, don't," Julie imprecated.
"It's only fair," he replied. "You'll notice I chose an extra thin one.
That way you'll be sure not to over-do it on Kimmy, since the thinnest
whips hurt the most."
"Oh, please," Julie said, but there was no dissuading Dan.
"I haven't got anything else to do anyway," he said.
Thus three beautifully-made bodies stood poised to embark into
the treacherous underworld of sadism. Here a wrong turn could lead to
scars, severed nipples, even pierced intestines. There was no natural
cut-off point, fake penises didn't deflate. One was at the mercy of a
zealous, sexually aroused master, whose pleasure was divorced from
your own. A master who drew pleasure from your own pain.
I squirmed atop the trestle, my girlish bottom spread wide to
show my winking anus. I could not move, save to flex my bottomcheeks
luridly, pushing them out into the cooling air. My bottom felt chilly in
the damp air of the dungeon. There was little evaporation from this
sealed-off room.
"What an ass!" Julie gaily remarked.
"She may make one of herself before the day is through," Dan
laughed.
"I hope so. I'm jealous," Julie said, and gave a flick with her whip
hand.
"Yeeowch!" I cried out, under my gag, tasting my first cut. No
sooner had I spoken than Julie let out a howl. Dan laughed.
"This is fun," he said.
Unhappily Julie gave me a second stinger, and received her own in
turn. I writhed atop the sawhorse, jostling my pendent breasts, setting
them swinging like a big pair of cow's udders. Dan smacked his lips at
my boobies' antics and told Julie to lay the whip on harder. I spoke but
my gag blocked my protest.
Crisply Julie struck again, my eyes bulging at the blow and my
gagged voice shrieking. Somewhere in the distance I heard her cry out,
but I paid it no mind now, preoccupied with the searing heat in my own
seat.
Grimly, undaunted by her own torment, Julie meted out my
punishment for peeing. Each stripe sent me lurching forward, waggling
my tits for Dan, who stood mesmerized off to one side. He stroked
himself intermittently as he flayed Julie, bringing himself to the brink
of an orgasm and then resting.
Julie, meanwhile, seemed caught in a perpetual little jig as each
vengeful stroke of her rod brought punishment anew to her own buns.
Raw and sore now, they sported an interlacing network of red curlicues
across their satiny white surface. My own bottom glowed with a road
map of its own. Yet she flayed on, giving me as good as she got.
I was crying now, tears plopping into a puddle beneath my face.
Julie was sobbing also. Dan began lecturing us on the need for girls to
retain their virginity until marriage.
Finally Julie wanted to stop, but Dan said he wasn't finished with
her. So she kept on strapping me just to keep herself company.
Through the burning haze of my agony I suddenly felt a large, jelly
smeared protuberance push at my exposed anus. I sucked in my breath
with horror. I'd forgotten all about the dildo!
"Push," I heard Dan tell Julie. "She can take you."
Unbearable pressure thrust at my resisting bumhole. I blanched,
wanted to vomit.
"Harder," Dan said, and gripped Julie from behind by the hips and
began pushing. His own cock thrust at her nether hole.
"Mmph!" Julie and I both exclaimed as her fake cock pierced me
just as Dan's cum-smeared weapon entered her. With diligent thrusts
he burrowed up her ass, sending her deeper and deeper into me. I
twisted my head to and fro and cried out a muffled resistance.
It was torture, bent over that horse, my most vulnerable parts
exposed and burning. The dildo nosed further and further up my poor
rectum, splitting me like some pig on a spit. I gagged, I coughed, I
blathered, but Julie showed no mercy, nor did Dan. With firm strokes he
now plundered her adorable ass, while she still endeavored to plug me
to the full. There was no sense of time, just a burning, itching fullness
that drove perilously deeper with my every tortured breath.
"C'mon, come on," I heard behind me, an obvious reference to my
tightness. Yet through it all, I later realized, when I was much more
experienced, Julie showed compassion. Her thrusts were gentle and
probing, only advancing when I seemed ready. Even her whipping,
seemingly so awful, had been merely a light basting. I was scored with
red lines, to be sure, and smarted terribly, but there were no cuts, no
bruises, no raised weals of any significance.
"Now!" Julie hissed suddenly in my ear, and I nearly swooned as
warm cream jetted into my bowels. Julie squeezed her play testicles
vigorously, and Dan helped her, his hand on hers. I was filled, it
seemed, with enough cream to open my own coffeehouse.
Dan, meanwhile, had just slipped over the edge he'd so
successfully balanced on throughout our whipping. With fierce grunts
he spermed his wife. She wept and humped herself to him, even as she
pillaged my own bumhole with her cock.
They lay upon me for many minutes after, breathing softly in the
silence of the dungeon. I could smell Julie's perfume, Opium, and more
natural scents. Finally Dan withdrew his limpening member from
Julie's forbidden channel. With his help they both stood erect, Julie's
phallus popping out of me. I felt open, enlarged. I began weeping once
more.
"Poor baby," Julie cooed, then took a step and felt her own pain.
"Ooch!" Her hands flew to her bottom. "You gave me a good one today,
Dan."
"All in a day's work," Dan replied. "Speaking of which, this day is
now over. You slaves will remain here and freshen yourselves up while
I go out."
"Dan," Julie whined. "Last time you went out and had sex with
some bimbo!"
"Your only concern is to be open and ready when I return," Dan
said. "Practise on your friend there 'til I get back." He opened the door
to the room and stepped out, locking it behind him.
Julie fetched a tube of cream and flinchingly applied it to her own
hot bottom. Then, patiently, she daubed mine as I jerked and winced
atop the trestle. My anus was duly anointed with the healing cream,
and Julie complimented me on my performance.
"You were very good," she said, kissing my cream smeared hiney.
"Now let's get you up and put you to bed."
Julie tucked me in on the sofa with the waistcoat from her
business dress. It didn't cover my legs but it did give me a sense of
modesty, lying as it did over my torso, as I drifted off to sleep. You
can't imagine the relief I felt. Finally I wasn't totally nude anymore.
Finally I wasn't being ravished and rent. My bottom burned against the
down-covered couch and my bones ached, but I had no trouble falling
asleep.
Julie slept on some cushions on the floor, her dress and blouse
draped over her. Much later she woke me. We stood with our backs to a
mirror at first, examining our poor punished heineys. The stripes were
fading now. Julie apologized to me for hurting me. Impulsively I
touched her butt. She jumped, then stood still as I soothingly explored
it with my fingertips. It was my first experience at taking an interest
in another female's ass. I acted out of curiosity mostly, and the
strange libertine nature of this room which held us. I bent and kissed
her finally, on each red-striped summit of her posterior. She urged me
to tongue her hole.
"Suck out Dan's sperm. It is for you also," she said. Gently I
parted her cheeks with my fingers. Tentatively I extended my tongue
through parted lips. I tapped her anus with my tongue tip. It tasted
salty.
"Stiffen your tongue," Julie said, and gently eased herself back
onto it. I popped through the opening of the hole and was inside.
"Oh! I can't do it!" I cried, immediately remorseful at having
withdrawn my shit coated tongue to my mouth. I ran to the faucet and
knelt down and rinsed my mouth over and over. Julie laughed.
We bathed each other next, taking turns and luxuriating in the feel
of the soapy wet sponge on our bodies. The water was chilly but one
got used to it after awhile. Then we sat on stools before a mirror, still
naked as newborns, and did each other's hair and nails. Neither of us
needed much makeup but we put on just enough to give the impression
that we were top-dollar tarts.
"Oooh, we look so sophisticated," Julie said mockingly, for indeed
we did, from the neck up. Our glittery earrings dangled beneath well-
fashioned hairdos. (Blowdriers and hair curlers were a must in the
dungeon, despite its many other spartan aspects.) From the neck down,
though, we were an expanse of white, lustrous flesh. Pink nipples
sprang invitingly from generous bosoms. Navels twinkled invitingly
above silken, furry mounds. Thighs gleamed their milky firmness and
well-moulded bottoms offered enticingly unobstructed views of
forbidden portals.
We shared a snack of wine and cheese and fruit, recounting our
feelings about our adventures. Dan's prowess did not go unremarked,
though it brought blushes talking about it. Finally it was with a
growing sense of arousal that we awaited our master's return. He was
my master too now, Julie assured me, for I had passed all their tests
with flying colors. But there was much more that lay in store for me,
she promised.
"I was just like you a few months ago, totally untrained. But Dan
has been teaching me very faithfully. Now I'm at the level where I can
play the dominatrix if I want, and it's fun. Have you ever had a man, his
balls bound with cord, his cock in a protective sheath, so you can
torment him but he won't come?" I assured her I hadn't. "I did that to
Dan. You think his cock is naturally big, try doing that. His cock was
swollen as big as a donkey's where it emerged from the sheath. He
begged me to jerk him off, it was rather painful you see, but I told him
all he had to do was stop thinking naughty thoughts and his erection
would go away."
"I'll bet that helped," I said.
"Not in the least."
Julie told me also how Dan introduced her to friends who liked to
party in the buff. "It's so amazing to see a prim young female attorney
stripped of her clothes and upended and fucked. And given enemas, and
all sorts of naughty things. Sometimes we dress up in bondage outfits.
Everything that society demands we keep covered is exposed, uplifted,
displayed. And we wear long gloves and boots, and masks too, to cover
up what society allows to be shown. Or, in the case of masks, demands
to be shown, for you can't walk around town with a mask on. People
will think you're a robber. Your most vulnerable parts are utterly
unprotected at these parties, sticking out such that everyone is
encouraged to play with them. But things that don't matter, like your
arms and legs, are covered up. You feel like a walking erogenous zone."
"It sounds scary," I said.
"Oh, everyone is quite pleasant," she replied. "Some girls go in for
getting their bottoms branded or their nipples pierced, but I never have.
Mostly it's just a comfortable atmosphere where you can talk frankly
about sex and enjoy some time in a playful, uninhibited environment.
You're encouraged to share your feelings, whatever they might be, and
explore any fantasies you might have. The display of the sex organs is
really just a way to get people to open themselves up and share,
although some copulating does occur. But nobody has any hangups about
it."
The door clicked open and swung wide. We both looked up, big-
eyed, a pair of fawns caught in headlights, it seemed. Dan stepped
within, looking well-rested and stunning as ever, in a pullover sweater
and jeans. I caught my breath as a woman stepped in behind him.
D R E A M G I R L S N E W S
O N F L A M I N G ! ! ! ! !
by holy joe
As you know, there has been much talk on alt.sex.stories (a.s.s.)
recently about the posting of flames. However, I must say that I found
reading those flames to be the most enjoyable experience (by far) that IÕve
had on the Internet! (Or ÒUsenet,Ó to be exact.) I never read the actual
messages the flamer was posting, of course. I could tell right away that
there was no message, other than the headline. (Actually, I opened one or
two and it was always just some art-less obscenity. (lacking art.) The
fact that the flamer never posted anything but one-line ÒmessagesÓ in the
body of his text apparently was used by AOL as a strong reason to
terminate him.
Let us consider, though, the actual Òsubject headings.Ó Here the
flamer knew he could not simply toss out some artless obscenity. (Indeed,
I donÕt think he was trying to post artless obscenities, what he was really
trying to do was plaster his subject headings all over a.s.s.) So I would
like to consider the subject headings only. Never mind the graceless
ÒmessagesÓ inside. I would like to hold up a new standard: Òflame art.Ó
As flame art, those subject headings were excellent. I wanted to copy
them all down but none of the online services IÕm using had that
capability. (I realize that AOL usually has this capability, but there are
simply too many messages on a.s.s. for it to work.)
I suppose the flamerÕs flames are now lost art. Many, indeed, have
been ÒretreivedÓ by AOL. My favorite mightÕve been ÒREMOVE THE
HOMOSEXUAL STORIES ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ,Ó which reminded me of some Southern
Baptist preacher pounding his pulpit. There were many other flames
though, equally good. And of course the original flames spawned new
flames. A homosexual logged on and begged that the Òanal rapingÓ stories
NOT be removed. I felt I could instantly recognize the difference between
subject headings that were merely flames, and those offering a story.
What were the real problems with the flames in such a freedom-loving
audience?
1. The technology is too slow. I am forever waiting for my damn
interface to scroll through the subject headings. A lot of ÒnoisyÓ headings
are particularly a problem if youÕre actually looking for the groupÕs
advertised wares: sex stories. So I can understand the frustration of the
honest consumer.
2. A writer of sex stories gets blasted off a.s.s. within hours of
uploading. He has just spent months or years perfecting his story. Then
he uploads it, and a flamer blows him away with a torrent of Òno
messageÓ messages. This is obviously not fair to the writer.
3. The Òquiet boutiqueÓ aura that pervades most groups is rent
asunder by one lone flamer firing message after message into a.s.s. The
newsgroup in effect becomes this flamerÕs own private board, with his
messages and ethos being utterly dominant. Messages not posted by him
are posted in reaction to him. A place for the exchange of ideas about
human sexuality becomes nothing but a boyÕs locker room, owned and
controlled by one boy.
4. The flamer is in all probability someone who has no intention of
being a part of the internet community. He is using free disks from AOL
(which are plentiful) to log on. He never has any intention of paying a
single penny to AOL. His sole purpose from the beginning is to Ògrab all he
can.Ó It is a mission that is suicidal from its very inception.
As you can see, none of the four problems I have detailed above have
anything to do with limiting a personÕs freedom of speech. Hence, the
prude (J. D. Cooper) who went on and on about a.s.s. being censorious was
misguided. I admire CooperÕs attempt to defend the flamer. But Cooper,
Defender of Justice, also stated openly that he wished for a.s.s. not to
exist at all, for us or the flamer. Both the flamer and Cooper intend to be
a party pooper.
So while I admired the flames of the flamer, I sympathize with
those who did not. As for myself, I was willing to put up with him. But
there are many who have been on a.s.s. longer than myself and they have
probably grown very weary of obnoxious flames. It is no doubt our
society, with its repressed view of sex, that inspires young men to write
raging headlines against gays. Somebody put something into this boyÕs
head to cause him to blanch when reading about homosexual conduct. He
decided that if Jimmy Swaggart could shout ÒREMOVE THE HOMOSEXUAL
STORIES ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ,Ó he could too. It is the flaming going on every day in the
world at large against a.s.s.Õs members (and potential members) that leads
to the flaming we see on our board. If so-called ÒnormalÓ people would
quit raging against sexual minorities in sermons and political
conventions, we would see much less of it on a.s.s. Perhaps if Jesse
Helms quits imitating Beavis and Butthead, the young AOL flamers will
too.
D R E A M G I R L S L E T T E R S
judiciously edited by holy joe
Miss Lady Astor333@titwhittle(elementary) writes: Why is it that
the articles written by you and those by Roller have the same writing
style? Are you, like, two for the price of one? Or only ONE pervert...with
two many personalities?
MADAM---Roller sometimes requests that he be allowed to pen his
articles under my distinguished surname. I can hardly refuse him.
Without Roller, I wouldnÕt be on the internet, visiting those 100 Web sites
with all the naked lady pictures on them! (The revised list, of course.)
Big Mamma 888@aol.domme wrote to us also, but I think it was just
ÒLady AstorÓ sitting at home with a free AOL disk.
MADAM---There is a place for you in this world. It is at
alt.frigid.feminazis. If you want to talk about us there, post there. Just
look for the subnewsgroup called a.likely.story.
Keep those ether telegrams coming!
ROLLER PUBLICATIONS Free for a greeting-card SASE (or $1.00) from:
Jim Corrigan, P.O. Box 3663, Phenix City, AL 36868. COMIC UPDATE
(Library of Congress ISSN: 0894-5195): small press comix. NAUGHTY
NAKED DREAMGIRLS (Library of Congress ISSN: 1070-1427): sex stories.
(Include an age statement-18 or over.) DREAMGIRLS WITH SHAMAN:
poetry. This is online issue number 3 END OF TRANSMISSION