Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
FREE!    Internet Edition    June 3, 1995  

D R E A M G I R L S  S T O R I E S
Chambers of Love
Part Nine
by Andrew Roller 

Chapter Four

         "We have three very naughty young bottoms here," a woman said 
officiously, inspecting my ass and those of Helga and Julie.
         "It is offensive for them to strut about without panties on," 
another agreed.  "Are their hineys so much fairer than ours?"
         "A good whipping would cut them down to size."
         I quaked in my booties upon hearing this, but so tumultuous were 
the feelings shivering through me that I did not show any sense.  I 
stood, dumbly, a lamb at sacrifice, a rabbit frozen in oncoming 
headlights.
         "They shall not be put to their trials here," Marguerite replied.  
"Our host insists that they be given privacy for their ordeal.  Bid them 
farewell."
         Burly men separated me from my trousered Atlas, taking me by 
the arms and leading me away.  I wriggled like a fish between my 
captors.  My feet barely touched the floor.  My much maligned posterior 
jiggled lewdly, a ripe display exaggerated by my half-formed attempts 
to break free.
         Julie's pretty fundament, well-pumped by her husband in their 
brief marriage, still clenched with girlish tightness.  It retreated 
before me as she too was involuntarily removed from the room.  Helga, 
her lovely fanny fuller and more mature, announced its departure with a 
rude fart.  I couldn't help but laugh as Helga blushed crimson right down 
to her toes.  Marguerite scolded her and flicked her bumptious butt with 
the ominous cat-o-nine tails.
         Though I was filled with trepidation at where we were being 
taken, I was glad to be out of the roomful of strangers.  How 
humiliating it had been to pee in front of them!  I pitied poor Helga even 
more than myself.  She was so regal, so refined and decorous, to be 
reduced to THAT...a urinating wench!  And sensuous Julie, the virtuous 
bride who only wished to please, turned into a peeing animal.
         I was dwelling on our collective fall from ladyhood when the 
three of us were suddenly plopped down on a trio of stools.  We were in 
an alcove just off the main hall.  Hauteur beauticians appeared and 
studiously checked our makeup, working quickly.  They ripped open our 
blouses and our big, bobbling boobs fell out.  Our bosoms were 
powdered, making the white cones of flesh even whiter.  Our stiff 
nipples were lightly painted with lipstick to give them an even more 
dazzling cherry hue.  Our shirts, however, were not removed.  
Bewitchingly they hung torn at our sides, still two sizes too small, 
hiding nothing now but giving us the allure of captive maidens.  Indian 
princesses about to be introduced to the ways of the White Man.  
Princesses, though held prisoner, with impeccable hair and makeup.
         "Bring the young ladies into the punishment chamber," our host 
ordered.  The alcove proved to lead directly into a large cell.  Julie and 
Helga and I bleated cries of alarm as we were forcibly herded into the 
room and saw what awaited us.
         Every conceivable device to desecrate the human body was there.  
Racks, trestles, ladders, a full assortment of whips and paddles, and 
donkey-sized dildoes.  There were devices for squeezing cocks and 
opening love holes, both front and rear.  And there was a big brass bed 
in one corner, for more conventional fucking, with a matching 
nightstand.  A tasteful pile of colorful condoms waited atop the bedside 
table.  There were various bottles of lubricant.  Mirrors positioned 
along the walls reflected everything.
         In the center of the room sat three stone blocks.  They were quite 
high at the rear, which faced us.  Then they sloped down and away from 
us, nearly level with the floor at their front ends.  A pair of chains had 
been drilled into the floor at both ends of each block.  Pillows had been 
placed thoughtfully atop each one.  
         Our host gestured toward the blocks, and we were impelled 
toward them.  My spine tingled with apprehension.  "You will spend the 
next day or so here," our host said, "Receiving your lessons.  Do not 
expect to be able to stand or sit afterward.  During your training you 
will be given such food and wine as you require, or even smelling salts, 
to revive you and keep you ready for more instruction."
         Without asking our consent, our host had us forced to our knees, 
then stretched over the blocks.  I fought back tears as I realized what 
might happen, and that I could do nothing to change my circumstances.  
My arms were pulled out straight in front of me, painfully far, then 
bound to the floor with chains.  My legs were kicked apart so that they 
formed a bold upside-down vee.  As I knelt there on the floor my ankles 
were encircled with chains and secured.
         "Three pretty bottoms, all in a row," Marguerite said admiringly 
as we alternately contracted and released our bulging white ass cheeks.  
We whinnied futile protests, humping the rocks as we made repeated 
attempts to stand, to no avail.  Our agitated hineys lost all pretence of 
modesty as we shamelessly jiggled them about, hoping to break free of 
our bonds.  Unprotected, they were the highest points of our trussed-up 
bodies, inviting attention with their every little movement.
         "I'll bet they wished they wore panties now," a woman said.
         "Girls, are you comfortable?" Marguerite asked.  "Although your 
fannies must suffer I wouldn't want you to be entirely put out.  The 
pillows under your tummies should ease your experience."
         Helga found her voice then and cried, "Marguerite, I am frightened!  
We wished only to party--"
         "There, there," Marguerite said.  She bent and stroked the woman's 
hair.  "Sweet mare, you will not be harmed.  Your host is a fair and just 
man and will demand no more of you than a woman may be trained to 
provide.  Stick out your bottom more, offer your delicious peach which 
he finds so entrancing.  You are being honored for your beauty this 
evening, you and your frisky young fillies.  Our host only entertains the 
prettiest females here.  Let me feel your breasts, ah!  They betray you.  
Feel how stiff your nipples are."  Marguerite fondled Helga's bosoms 
then, lightly squished as they were into the stone block.  Fortunately a 
soft cloth lay under each of our midriffs, covering the hard, rough 
stone.  My erect nipples pricked the downy coverlet and would do much 
dancing upon it tonight, I realized fearfully.
         "You are to be kissed all about your bottoms with the birch," 
Marguerite explained.  "Men, including our host, love to see girls 
exercised in this way.  You will feel the strap too, and my cat-o-nine 
tails.  You will be shown absolutely no mercy, but lashed no harder than 
young females such as yourselves can be expected to bear.  Helga, of 
course, shall be given the most thorough flogging.  She can take it and 
she knows it, don't you, Helga?  Julie, your bridal education must be 
continued.  You will be strapped in anticipation of a thorough workout 
on the bed.  Our host wants to make sure you can bear children easily 
when your time comes.  And darling little Kimmy, you must have your 
bottom opened tonight by a real cock.  You must be well warmed for it, 
to make you receptive.  Your host has a big one and he expects to get it 
right up you, no questions asked."
         "Oh!  Please!" Helga begged.  "Stop tormenting us and get it over 
with!"
         "Brave helga!" Marguerite intoned.  "I don't think you understand, 
my dear.  This is no rude punishment.  It's an erotic game, a party game, 
meant to last all night.  See how boldly your bottoms present 
themselves to our view, so creamy white and flawless.   Not a blemish 
marks any of you.  We mean to sit and admire you first, your nakedness, 
your indecency.  How lovely it is to see three young women presented in 
this way, arses up and ready for the fray.  You are helpless.  You 
tremble at the awful stinging you're about to feel, right on your seats 
where it will hurt most, do you not?"
         We shivered, our lily-white asses trembling, our fatted cheeks 
looking like mouth-watering merchandise in a butcher's shop.  
Marguerite and our host shared some aperitifs then, after gagging us 
first so that we could not spoil their conversation.
         How open I felt!  My bottom cheeks were split wide by my obscene 
posture.  The cool air of the room caressed my anus, the aspects of 
which my hosts discussed, making my ears burn.  Mine was compared to 
Julie and Helga's.
         "How big a cock do you think each of them can take?" Marguerite 
wondered merrily.
         "We shall have to test them and find out," our host said, puffing 
on a cigarette.  "When they leave here they will know not only their 
outer measurements, but their inner ones as well."
         Marguerite finally announced it was time to begin the 
"Proceedings," and rose up with her cat.  She walked over to us, her 
heels loud upon the hard floor.  I felt a shower of tips dangled teasingly 
on my ass and leapt fearfully.  But she was just playing.
         "My, my, what will you do when it is for real?" she asked.  Julie 
and Helga jumped with alarm too, as Helga let the knotted ends of her 
cat brush their exposed bottoms.
         "Are you ready, girls?" Marguerite asked.  The ends of her whip 
danced playfully upon my peach once more.  I mewled behind my gag, 
hoping desperately for a reprieve.  I was too young.  I was only 15.  I 
should be escorted out of the room now, like the 10-year-old in Julie's 
story.  "I'm not going to kid you.  This is going to hurt," Marguerite 
warned.  I heard the whip rustle as she lifted it.
         "Mmph!" I cried then, as the whip laid its first bites upon my 
bottom.  Marguerite waited while I ground my hips upon the stone, my 
precious bottom smarting.  Then she gave me two more, "by way of 
introduction," she said.  
         Julie was struck next, and gave a muffled yelp.  Helga finally, and 
she swore beneath her gag.  Deftly Marguerite loosed Helga's gag and 
urged the woman to curse her with as many obscenities as she could 
think of.  "You will need them all tonight," Marguerite warned.  She gave 
her an extra, harder cut and Helga trilled.
         "God-Dammit, you cunt!" Helga shouted.  Marguerite laughed.  She 
took off the gags of Julie and I also, then prepared to give me my fourth 
strike.
         Swish!  Down it came, harder than the other three, and I leapt like 
an eel.
         "Oooch!  It hurts!" I hooted.
         "Yes dear," Marguerite agreed, sweeping another stroke right up 
underneath the bulge of my cheeks.  "How else to make your bottom 
wiggle so vigorously, for the delight of your host?"  In truth, nothing 
else could, as I was soon to learn.  There is a certain magic that is 
impelled to the bottom in a whipping.  It leaps, it bounds, it rotates 
lasciviously under the whip's agonizing caress.  I was to make use of 
its prick-inducing possibilities as a mistress myself, later in life. For 
now, though, I was but an innocent, praying for it to stop.  Lightly but 
firmly Marguerite proceeded with my licking, complimenting me on how 
well I took it.
         "Such a little Amazon!" she exclaimed.  "You paraded your nude 
hiney about, causing the men such distress.  And you teased us with 
your barely-covered teats, sticking up their nipples as if for milking.  I 
thought you were a lost little maiden from the jungle, so uninhibited 
did you seem.  And now look at you, taking your punishment like a young 
lady should, not swearing like Helga, who no doubt wants her mouth 
washed out!"
         I yowled and pleaded as she taunted me, whisking the fiery tips of 
the cat about my bottom.  Is this how the Incas treated their 
princesses, I wondered, before they sacrificed them to the sun god?  I 
thought of the long line of comely maidens through the ages who had 
suffered as I was suffering now, presenting their bottoms, being flayed 
and fucked.  I sobbed suddenly, feeling sorry for myself, and them, big 
tears running down my cheeks and plopping on the floor.
         The sweeps of the cat became brisker.  Wantonly my bottom 
contracted, released, tensed and bounded, putting on a bewitching 
performance.  I screeched loudly, bitterly, grinding my teeth and 
snorting, then biting my tongue, sobbing hard.  Through bleared eyes I 
saw, in a mirror, Marguerite.  She was sweating lightly now.  Her hair 
was tousled from her exertion.  Her big bare boobs joggled freely, 
amorously, their tips hard.
         Marguerite kept her touch light, yet demanding.  It was all in the 
wrist, as she was to tell me later.  "With you I came up short on each 
stroke, breaking the fall of the whip at the last moment.  Thus I 
belabored you sweetly, not harshly, though being so new to it you no 
doubt felt I was slicing you to ribbons."
         Poor Julie and Helga had to wait patiently while I received my 
licking, bottoms twitching, their breath coming in slow, nervous gasps.  
Their enforced postures displayed their peeping cunts to our host, their 
legs spread wide and held in bold vees.  "Surely no position could more 
alluringly display the female form," our host commented between drags 
on his cigarette.
         "It is as nature intended," a female companion agreed (for several 
close friends of his had now joined him, to ready his cock.)  "Put up, 
cunts displayed, clittys tingling.  Why should only the giving of birth be 
publicly dramatized?  How fun it is to make a production here of the 
insemination also."
         Julie it was who received her lessons next, as I lay crying over 
my stone block.  She howled and screeched as the first cuts were laid 
into her.  Dan had apparently not trained her as thoroughly as he had 
boasted, or perhaps she was just nervous, for we were in a foreign 
land, amongst total strangers.  Marguerite whipped her more vigorously, 
for she was 19, and a bride.  She must get used to life as a woman, the 
pain of childbirth, Marguerite said.  "You will be bloated when pregnant, 
and sick in the morning.  You will cry out in agony when you deliver.  
And your nipples will hurt from your eager baby sucking upon them."
         "Yes!  Yes!  Yes!" was all Julie could say, for she wanted children, 
and soon.  She'd been skipping her pill now and then just to see what 
would happen, teasing fate.  Saturday night on the boat, partying in 
nothing but our teensy little bikini bottoms, she'd whispered to me that 
she was off her contraceptives.  I wondered if tonight would be the 
night she would conceive.  She had little choice in the matter now, 
forcibly "assuming the position," as they say so crudely.
         Our host rose and came to me then, his purplish-headed penis 
looming erectly through his open fly.  He removed his belt.  I tensed, my 
scorched bottom burned and I bit my lip.
         "No!  Please," I breathed.
         "What a fine ass you have," he said, admiring my pink-patterned 
hiney.  And with that he accorded me a crisp slash.
         "Yoouch!" I yelled, arse wriggling.  He laid into me then, each blow 
coursing across my offered peach "sweetly," as Marguerite later said, 
for he was a true gentleman.  I hopped and bounded upon the block, my 
bottom reddening more deeply with every broad, splatting stroke.
         Marguerite moved to Helga then, with whom she was fiercest.  the 
big-bosomed woman blubbered as the hissing cat scorched her pretty 
derriere.  I caught sight of her briefly in the mirror, gasping and 
panting, still utterly refined even as she suffered so awfully.
         Our host cast down his belt and announced he could wait no longer 
to plug me.  He gripped my offered bottom twixt his thumbs.  I bleated 
at his touch upon my burning cheeks.  Quickly a woman daubed my anus 
with cream, his cock already glisteningly prepared beforehand by the 
women.  He nosed his head against my rose.
         "Ah!  So tight!" he remarked, the tip of his cock pressing hard into 
me.
         "Relax, relax," a woman admonished me, stroking my arched back.  
Rudely he jerked within me then, popping my cherry.  I yelped with fear 
and pain.  Another quick thrust, and he lodged deeper up me, my 
sphincter gripping his shaft, hoping to grip so tight that he could go no 
further.  But his cock and my anus were oiled well.
         "Umph!" he grunted, and pushed deeper still.  I bucked and moaned, 
pleaded for mercy.
         "Oh!  You're going too far up!" I shouted.

D R E A M G I R L S  N E W S

M A C  T I P S
by Andrew Roller
(Or:  You canÕt get here if your computer wonÕt boot)

M A C M A L L  M I S A D V E N T U R E

         For several issues the MacMall catalogue has been advertising 
ÒQuantum External Drives.Ó  This is a big ad, covering two pages in their 
catalogue.  I ordered one of these drives.  It arrived this week.  
         The driveÕs icon would not appear on my MacÕs Òdesktop.Ó  I called 
LaCie (purportedly the manufacturer, since the drive arrived with LaCie 
documentation).  The LaCie tech support person asked me the name of the 
drive.
         ÒArriva,Ó I said.
         ÒOh, Arriva!Ó he replied.  ÒWe do not support the Arriva drive.Ó
         ÒBut it is a Quantum drive,Ó I said.
         ÒYes, but MacMall puts the drives together and sells them itself,Ó he 
replied.  He told me to call MacMall.
         I called MacMall.  After being told that my drive was Òone of 
NUMEROUS problems,Ó (presumably with other MacMall-made products) he 
told me to return it.  He said that Quantum had delivered to MacMall a 
number of Arriva drives whose internal SCSI addressing switch was not 
set to any particular SCSI address.  I myself could switch to different 
SCSI addresses (0-7), using the EXTERNAL switch but nothing would 
happen INSIDE the drive in response.
         So I exchanged the Arriva drive.  A new Arriva drive arrived (in my 
mailbox) the next day.  But when I tried to boot it up, the Arriva drive 
refused to arrive on my Òdesktop.Ó  In addition, this second drive was bent 
at one end of the SCSI cable.  It would not plug into my Mac.  I (gently) 
adjusted the end of the SCSI cable with pliers, thereby allowing it to plug 
into my Mac.
         On this second Arriva drive, I noticed that an orange light turned on, 
as well as a green light.  This had not happened on the first Arriva drive.  
(Only the green light had turned on.)  I also noticed that the second Arriva 
drive actually had Òair flowÓ through the air vents on it.  This had not 
happened on the first Arriva drive either.
         Several conclusions can be drawn from the above evidence.  First, 
there is more than one problem with the Arriva brand drives.  It is not 
merely a matter of the SCSI address failing to be set inside the drive.  
There are apparently Òorange lightÓ problems, Òair flowÓ problems, and 
bent SCSI end-of-cable problems.  I could accept that a batch of drives 
might have ONE problem (somebody forgetting to set the switches inside 
the drives).  But numerous problems is another matter.  
         There is only one purpose to owning an SCSI drive.  It is for DATA 
INTEGRITY.  What good is a drive if it arrives with numerous untold 
problems and wonÕt even boot up?  GOD FORBID that you should actually get 
an Arriva drive that booted up.  How safe do you think your data would be 
two years down the road, when the driveÕs two year warranty expired?           
There are enough problems with computers already, without MacMall going 
into the business of manufacturing throwaway, made-to-break drives.  
ÒPlanned obsolescenceÓ may be fine for a washing machine.  You can 
always just take your clothing back out of it.  But a hard drive?  A hard 
drive with my valuable, irreplaceable data on it?  No way, MacMall!
         Incredibly, MacMall pitches this ÒQuantumÓ (Arriva) drive as 
follows:  ÒReliability, performance and price so that everyone can enjoy 
the benefits of having an [sic] Quantum external hard drive.Ó  The 
ÒQuantumÓ (Arriva) 730MB drive costs $399.00.  Would you like to know 
how much a name brand Quantum LaCie drive costs?  There is a (small) ad 
for the Quantum LaCie (name band) drive on the next page in the MacMall 
catalogue.  The price for a Quantum LaCie 730MB drive is....$409.99.
         I donÕt know about you, but when I am spending $400.00 an extra nine 
dollars is no big deal to me.  I would JOYFULLY pay nine dollars more for a 
NAME BRAND Quantum drive with the LaCie name on it, that LaCie tech 
support people will support (instead of sending me to MacMall).
         Of course, I did not know that Quantum made its own name brand 
LaCie drives, which it supports, and ÒjunkÓ drives which it sells to 
MacMall as ÒArrivaÓ drives.  
         Now, Quantum is not a two-bit drive company.  Apple puts Quantum 
drives in its Macintoshes.  All the drives IÕve ever owned have been 
Quantum drives.  And I have always read that Quantum drives are the best.
         So, BEWARE when you are buying computer equipment these days.  
Try to make sure that it is actually Òname brand,Ó which may be very 
difficult (as shown above).  At least now you will know enough not to get 
suckered into one of MacMallÕs ÒQuantumÓ drives.  And if you actually got 
an Arriva drive in the mail, and are currently using it, all I can say is 
ÒBack up now!Ó  ÒBack up frequently!Ó  ÒMake Backing up a part of your 
life.Ó  ÒDo not Eat, Sleep, or Breathe ever again...just continually back up 
your Arriva hard drive.Ó  After all, youÕre Òenjoying the benefits of having 
an [sic] Quantum external hard drive!Ó...straight from MacMall.  

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 9    END OF TRANSMISSION