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Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
FIELD OF DESIRE
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Chapter One
Annie strolled across the field of hay with Monique. A path of sorts
had been trampled through the hay by prior travelers. But the product of
the field was no longer harvested. It grew wild now, interspersed with
patches of bare ground where clover and daisies had claimed footholds
amidst the hay.
An onlooker would have simply seen two young women, dressed in
off the shoulder frocks and tantalizingly abbreviated skirts. Both the
skirts and the blouses were of flouncy white cotton, and an occasional
snippet of wind raised the dresses to reveal semi-sheer white undies. The
hem of each girl's midriff fluttered across her naval. The girls wore
spiked silver heels with no stockings. Their beauty concealed the tension
between them.
The girls were similar in age, with the one to the left appearing a
bit more mature. Neither girl, however, seemed to have learned her
lessons with regard to wearing a bra. Both had breasts unrestrained by
any such undergarment, their only covering being their thin blouses. But it
was a hot summer day. Their nipples, which poked at their frocks, could
not have risen from any chill.
"We should take off our clothes before we reach the cabin," Monique
said to Annie. The blonde gave her a puzzled look. Monique unbuttoned her
own blouse. "You will be reimbursed for them, so their loss need not
concern you." Monique pulled open her frock to reveal an exquisite pair of
tits. They bounced as she walked. She let the corsage flutter from her
hand and fall behind her in the field. Annie put a hand to the drawstring of
her own midriff and twirled the end. She tugged lightly.
When Annie was a young girl Monique had been an exchange student
from France. She had lived next door, but had seemed to spend the
majority of her time at Annie's. She and Annie's parents had been close.
Annie had also shared time with the teen, but as Monique blossomed her
interludes with Annie grew less and less.
Now Annie was 17, and at her Daddy's suggestion she had flown to
France to spend the summer at Monique's. The former exchange student
was married now, to an older man who seemed to have little time for her.
This, however, seemed to bother Monique not in the least. Her many
friends made so many demands on her that she had little time to think
about her marriage.
Monique's husband had been born into wealth, the inheritor of
vineyards and rural estates. Annie had been picked up at the airport and
taken to a rustic old mansion. In back was a swimming pool. Annie had
spent the last two days since her arrival lying out by the pool, going
inside only when Monique admonished her that she was making her tan too
dark. In the evening Monique's friends would appear and the pool would
play host to a party.
Annie's presence had drawn a host of overtures from the male
friends of Monique, but the blonde had found herself captivated by
Monique's live-in boyfriend, Pierre. Yesterday afternoon Pierre had come
out and played with Annie in the pool. Annie's bikini bra had come undone.
Gallantly, Pierre had fit the fabric back to her breasts and retied her bra.
Just then Monique had called Pierre inside.
That night Annie had awakened and slipped downstairs for a bite of
milk and cookies. She had heard what sounded like muffled screams
coming from the den. She had gone and peeped inside the door. Monique's
naked bottom hove into view, lightly striped by the lash. Pierre was
standing behind her, his trim buttocks naked. A girl had been kneeling
behind him, tongueing the crack of his bottom and apparently fisting his
stiff penis. Both Pierre and Monique had turned around simultaneously.
Monique had been gagged. Her eyes were wide with fear, but Pierre's
burned with lust.
The girl had stopped tongueing Pierre's bottom when she felt him
twist around. She looked behind her and her eyes fell upon Annie. One of
Annie's tits had slipped from behind her negligee.
"Are you after me?" the kneeling girl had asked Annie with accepting
eyes. Annie had lurched from the half-opened door and run upstairs to her
bedroom.
The next morning no one had been in the house. Annie walked around,
calling, but there was no response. She had played by the pool by herself
and in the evening she hosted her own make-believe party.
The following morning Monique had come into Annie's bedroom. The
blonde had awakened just as Monique sat down by her head. The woman
had caressed Annie's hair. She said she had been shopping, and had bought
herself clothes just like those Annie had been wearing when she was
picked up at the airport.
"Now we can look just alike," Monique had said. "And share the same
experiences." Monique wore a white frock, white skirt, and silver heels
with no stockings. Her blouse, however, buttoned in front, while Annie's
had sexy ties. Monique bade Annie dress "in the same clothes Pierre found
so appealing when we picked you up." Annie did so. They had shared
breakfast with Pierre, and several of Monique's friends. Afterwards, to
Annie's envy, Pierre had left for a walk in the fields behind the mansion
with two girls. Annie had asked Monique if she could join them. Monique
had told Annie they must clean up the dishes first. Pouting, wondering
why Monique had let her servants off for the day, Annie had helped
Monique. They wore bibs to protect their frocks.
"Come," Monique said, shifting her langorous gaze to Annie as they
made their way across the field. "Luxuriate in the sunshine's warmth. Do
you think you will always have the comfort of looking beautiful, strolling
unclothed across a field?"
"The hay is sharp," Annie said of the yellow stalks that had been
crushed to form a path beneath her feet.
"You may keep your heels on," Monique smiled. "And your lovely
earrings."
"You French are strange," Annie said.
"We are not strange, my dear," Monique said. She walked bare
breasted through the hay with an air of unaffected confidence. "We simply
enjoy nature as God intended us to."
"Without your clothing," Annie said. Unconsciously her fingers drew
upon her drawstring, loosening it.
"Of course," Monique said. Seeing the inner slopes of Annie's breasts
break from the confines of her corsage, Monique stopped. She reached
behind herself and unzipped her dress. It fell away, revealing skimpy
panties tied with lace. "You really must undress. Everyone else there will
be naked. It is our custom." Annie, perhaps in response to the sun's heat,
slipped the next tie on her corsage. She thought of Pierre.
"What will we do at the cabin...without clothes?" Annie asked.
"Why, everything," Monique said. "You expect nude men and women to
be at a loss for activities?"
"But, I mean, I've heard things about, well, aboutÑ"
"Yes?" Monique asked. Her placid eyes regarded Annie. They were
like deep, wide pools, open yet mysterious. Her panties only covered half
her bottom. The acclivity of her upper posterior shone palely in the sun.
Annie looked away from the woman and down at her feet, over the jiggling
expanse of her half naked breasts.
"Speak your fears," Monique urged Annie. The girl walked in silence.
With every step her mammaries joggled out more of their flesh from her
corsage.
"Do you fear the whip?" Monique asked finally. Annie's skin tingled.
She bit her lower lip and nodded.
"Yes, Pierre does find the whip an engaging implement," Monique
said. Her eyes gazed across the field as the little cabin slipped into view.
"If you were to practise with it you would not find it so distasteful."
"I don't want to practise with it," Annie said. One of her areolas
wiggled above the top of her corsage.
"My, what a pedestrian life you wish to lead!" Monique exclaimed.
Then, as if to make a pun, she asked, "What do you think the wiggling of
your bottom says to a man as you walk down the street?
"I can't help the wiggling of my bottom," Annie said. She wanted to
reach up and tuck her nipple back into her top. It was traitorously erect.
Monique glanced behind her. In the distance, two men followed. They
came upon her corsage.
"Do you think your bottom was made for you alone to enjoy?" Monique
asked. "Should it not be put upon the male prong?"
"No," Annie said. Something inside her called her a liar.
"Consider a man's receptacle," Monique said. "Full of sperm, it
dangles between his legs, tormenting him. Would you make him suffer?"
"I don't want to suffer," Annie said.
"You mean your white bottom?" Monique asked. The woman had seen
her posterior two nights ago when they exchanged places in the shower.
"Such a lovely orb was made to sparkle, to be catered to by the whip. Such
doings only serve to excite the man, to make his excursion into the female
fundament all the more exquisite."
"Well, I haven't been whipped or taken up the butt," Annie said.
"Of course, and that is why your father suggested a trip to France,"
Monique said. Annie laughed.
"I doubt it," Annie said with mock incredulity. "He's pretty straight
laced."
"Are you sure?" Monique asked. "Perhaps I know him better than you."
Annie looked at the woman. She had entertained suspicions... "Yes,"
Monique said flatly. "We were lovers. And although you were only a girl of
10 then, I was 17. It was your father who first introduced me to that
which you fear."
"No way," Annie said. "My mommie would have found out."
"She was included," Monique said. Annie stopped dead in her tracks.
Monique walked up to the girl. She brushed a wayward strand of hair
from the blonde's face. She told Annie to lift her arms. The blonde's eyes
gazed into hers for a moment, and then she complied. Monique took the
hem of Annie's corsage in her hands and lifted it. The garment cleared
Annie's boobs and they wobbled with newfound freedom.
Monique let Annie's midriff hang around her head for a moment as the
girl stood before her with upraised arms. Annie stood in blind silence.
Monique bent forward. Her lips touched Annie's erect right nipple and she
kissed its tip. Annie shivered in her captivity.
"I can't see!" Annie mewed, but she really wanted to protest the
molestation of her nipple. Monique lifted her head from Annie's breast and
smiled. Unseen by Annie, there was a look of matronly caring in her eyes.
Monique plucked Annie's corsage from her arms. Annie stood for a
moment with arms still upraised, her eyes fixed on the woman who had
just pecked her teat.
"Shall I do your dress too?" Monique asked.
"No!" Annie said, suddenly regaining her senses. She dropped her
arms. Out the corner of her eye she saw her corsage lying discarded in the
hay. It hung low upon several broken stalks. In the distance she saw two
men approaching. They would find it.
Monique took Annie by the hand. She turned the girl about and
together they continued their journey toward the cabin. After another two
dozen yards or so Annie stopped.
"Oh, a dandelion!" Annie exclaimed with childlike wonder. She bent
over and plucked the stem of the flower from the lichens. As she pulled
her dangling naked titties jiggled in pendulous splendor. Her bottom, two-
thirds covered by her panties, yielded the top of her bottom crack. Her
skirt hung uselessly above the tip of her nether cleft, too short to provide
cover in such a posture. Its hem fluttered in the breeze.
Annie lifted the dandelion to her lips. The stem was topped by a
cottony white ball. It was ready to be denuded. Annie puffed upon the
flower. It broke from the stem and was carried off by the wind. Annie
watched with delighted eyes. She let the stem fall from her fingers.
Monique urged Annie on. At the top of a rise she stopped. Like a well
trained pony, Annie stopped beside her. Monique let go of Annie's hand.
She glanced back over her shoulder. In the distance stood the two men.
She guessed it was Steve and Mark, though she couldn't be sure. One man
held her cast off bodice in his hands.
Monique put her fingers to the ties of her drawers and loosed them.
The frilly white garment wafted to the ground. Annie couldn't help but
glance back at the woman's bottom. It bore no marks of her recent
whipping. Perhaps she had been gone yesterday to let it heal.
Monique took Annie's hand and they continued on their way. Monique
looked back several times. The men were getting closer. Still she could
not make out for certain who they were.
At the top of the next rise Monique reached beneath Annie's skirt.
Annie's drawers bore no convenient ties. Monique pulled them down
Annie's legs. As she lowered them she knelt. She held them about Annie's
ankles and bade Annie to step out of them. Annie complied.
Monique rose. Playfully she put Annie's panties to her own breasts.
She pressed the fabric to her chest. Her titties stuck out the leg holes.
Monique laughed, and even Annie couldn't help giggling.
Annie tried the same feat herself. "Look, Monique!" she cried, as her
own breasts thrust through the leg holes. Then Monique had her toss aside
the panties and they clasped hands and walked on. The ground grew rough,
and as they tottered through it they clasped each other's hand more tightly
to keep their balance.
"Ooh! There's another one!" Annie cried, her eyes alighting upon
another dandelion. She bent over again, this time causing her skirt to rise
to reveal a naked bottom. It's snowy, glossy surface invited the sun to
attempt to burn it red. Annie rose, her skirt falling protectively back over
her bum. In her hand she held her verdant treasure. She released its
blossom.
When another hilltop had been cleared the cabin was found to be
quite near. Monique stopped Annie and reached behind her. With a swift
motion she unzipped the blonde's dress. It split in two upon the curve of
Annie's bottom and then fell away.
Monique gazed into Annie's eyes. She told the girl to stand up
straight. Annie made herself as erect as she could. Her breasts wobbled
in their nakedness upon her chest. Her bottom thrust back, inviting
caresses.
"You look beautiful," Monique smiled at Annie. "Now let's see what
Pierre is up to." She led Annie up to the cabin door and knocked.
A girl peeked out, her naked breast peering around the edge of the
door just as Annie's had in the den only two days earlier. "What's the
password?" the girl said, a glint of mischief in her eyes.
"Bottoms are red,
"Pricks are blue,
"If I had a whip,
"I'd enjoy switching you," Monique said. She then turned to Annie and told
the girl to repeat the poem. With some difficulty, and cues from Monique,
the girl complied.
The door was opened for Annie and Monique just as the men behind
them rose over the last hill. They were much closer now. The two
females slipped inside, and the door was bolted behind them.
A female walked up to Annie and unceremoniously snapped a leather
collar about her neck. She locked it with a little key. Annie reached up
and felt the band.
"It betokens your status here," Monique said quietly. Annie gave a
little gulp.
The room before them had been built from logs. A mass of bearskin
rugs lay at the far end, before a crackling fire. Above the mantle hung a
whip. A window air conditioner hummed forth cool air. Annie's skin took
on a pleasant chill.
Pierre was nowhere to be seen, but sobbing from the next room made
Annie guess he might be there. Monique, however, seemed not interested
in tracking down her lover. She led Annie across the room's rough hewn
floor to the rugs before the fire. Already they were feeling cold. Monique
lay down on her back.
Monique spread her legs. Her chestnut thatch of pubic hair stared up
at Annie where it curled over her labia. Annie felt like a gynecologist.
Monique lifted both her legs and rested her heels on the front of a nearby
chair. She stretched, and folded her arms on the rug above her head. She
looked at Annie.
"Kneel down," Monique said. A girl came up behind Annie and took the
blonde by her shoulders. Annie knelt.
"Ms. Lacroix wishes you to lick her pussy," the girl at Annie's
shoulders said.
"I, I couldn't," Annie replied. Pierre appeared.
"Oh, Pierre!" Annie cried. He looked sweaty.
"Do as you're told," Pierre said simply to Annie. His chivalry was
gone. His penis stood forth in a demanding erection. His balls were
swollen and tight. The girl standing behind Annie pressed down on her
shoulders. Reluctantly Annie fell forward and her face pressed into
Monique's tummy. The rug felt soft against her breasts. Behind her the
girl spread her knees with her heel.
Annie looked up. Monique's eyes were closed. Annie glanced higher.
The whip hung above the mantle with wicked intent. Annie felt the plush
rug against her pussy. It felt good. If her bottom were whipped it would
wiggle and then her pussy would feel even more enthralled upon the soft
down.
Monique rolled her head and her eyelids opened.
"Don't pay any attention to those naughty people," Monique said. She
seemed utterly relaxed. Annie had butterflies in her stomach.
There was a knock at the door. The girl behind Annie left and went
to the door. She opened it. Annie watched as two men entered. Their eyes
met hers. They were still clothed. The girl who had admitted them knelt
and unzipped the first man's fly.
Her eyes still locked with the men's, Annie let the side of her face
come down to rest upon Monique's flat tummy. As Annie watched the
men's prongs brought out a pool of saliva formed in the corner of her
mouth. It drooled out and trickled onto Monique's belly, as if to attempt to
inseminate her. Monique reached down and stroked Annie's lovely head of
hair.
Pierre had retreated after issuing his order. A crack of leather was
heard, followed by another. Annie snuggled her face and shoulders closer
to Monique's tummy. Her lips were just an inch above the woman's trim
pubic mound. Cries of pain began issuing from the next room.
Empathetically Annie wriggled her bottom. Her pussy ground against the
carpet.
The girl who had unleashed the new arrivals left them to return to
Annie. She looked up at the girl with wide, fearful eyes. The two men who
had just come in sat down in leather chairs at the far side of the room, as
if to watch what the girl standing over Annie was about to do. An
unclothed female came into the room and served the men drinks.
"You must forgive poor Annie her recalcitrance," Monique said to the
girl standing over Annie. "It is her first visit to our little hideaway."
"Oh," the girl said. "Well, I'm glad you could come, uh, even though you
haven't come yet." The girl giggled. "My name's Sally. And yours is
Annie?"
"Y-Yeth," Annie lisped. The cries of the girl being whipped in the
next room reached an even higher pitch.
"Let me baptize your bottom," Sally said. She reached for the
mantle. Annie flinched and was about to spring up. Sally's fingers
alighted upon a bottle of oil hung just below the mantle, inside the brick
cavity of the fireplace. Annie surmised the contents of the bottle must be
hot, suspended so close to the fire's licking flames.
Ouch!" Sally said, drawing her fingers suddenly back from the bottle.
"Use the cloth, that's what it's for," Monique said. Sally obeyed,
taking a little linen cloth that hung on a peg next to the bottle in her hand.
Then she used the cloth to pluck the bottle from its holder. She unplugged
the bottle. Its cut crystal surfaces sparkled in the firelight. Sally tilted
the bottle.
"Ooch!" Annie cried. She squirmed. A drop of hot oil had fallen on her
heinie. Again Sally tilted the bottle, and again Annie's bottom was
anointed with the fluid. Annie's pussy felt delightful as her wrigglings
caused it to rub on the exquisitely soft bearskin.
Monique reached down and parted the two halves of Annie's bottom
with the fingers of one of her hands. Her other hand took up its place,
stroking Annie's blonde head. Annie shivered. Monique was exposing her
anus to the hot oil! Thankfully, Sally's first try at dribbling a drop of oil
on Annie's sphincter missed, hitting her bottom instead. Annie would
never have thought she'd be grateful for hot oil splashing on the skin of
her fair bottom! The next drop missed too, but the third try proved
successful. Annie winced as the oil struck, giving her hips an especially
vigorous wriggle in response. Her pussy thanked her, caring not one whit
for the plight of her anus.
The rest of the oil was slowly emptied out, some on Annie's
bottomcheeks, some between.
"Y'know, I should like to do your nipples as well," Sally said
thoughtfully, as if contemplating rides at an amusement park.
"Ooch! No! Please, my bottom is enuf," Annie said, squirming
beneath her. Monique had left off stroking her locks to hold her wrists in
her hand. Annie had hit upon the idea of covering her bottom with them
and that, of course, was not allowed.
Annie gazed at the men seated along the far wall. Their eyes
sparkled with lust. Their penises were majestic, and try as she might
Annie found herself breaking with modesty and glancing time and again at
the magnificent rods which pulsed just feet from where she lay.
"Now that your bottom's been anointed the oil must be sealed in with
a polishing of the whip," Sally said.
"No!" Annie said, and attempted to jump up but was stopped by
Monique's firm grip on her wrists.
"Have you ever been whipped before?" Sally asked as she reached for
the whip.
"No," Annie said. In her attempt to escape she had placed herself in
the compromising posture of standing with feet flat on the floor, knees
bent, her waist doubled over. She tugged still in attempt to break from
Monique's wrists. Her hair flung to and fro as she struggled. It is said a
woman fights with only half her strength, and even as she attempted to
escape Annie knew she should put less wiggling and more strong pulling
into her efforts. But to do so seemed unladylike, and she contented
herself with a display of her disapproval.
"My, what a nice posture for whipping," Sally observed, whip in hand.
Annie flung herself back down on her tummy.
"Don't worry, since it's your first time I won't whip you hard...just
enough to let you get the feel of it," Sally said.
"I don't want to be like the girl in the next room!" Annie pleaded.
"Oh! She's been brought to the whip many times before," Sally said.
"A sterner treatment is required of her to produce the same level of
emotion." Sally let the tail of the whip dangle temptingly between the
halves of Annie's bottom. Annie trembled.
SWHACK! Suddenly the whip whisked down. It barely hit Annie, but
the girl gave a yelp at the top of her lungs. Afterward, as the lightness of
the bite settled in, Annie blushed at her cowardice. She gazed up at Sally
with wide eyes.
"My, it doesn't take much to get you to ventilate your lungs," Sally
said to Annie.
"Uh, no...I could even scream my loudest without the whip," Annie
said with imprecating eyes.
"Well, we'll just give you a little of the leather to make sure you
really are giving your best scream," Sally said, raising the whip up in the
air for a second strike. "Don't worry, no one can hear you no matter how
loud you cry way out here."
"Being rescued wasn't something I was particularly troubled by,"
Annie said, and as the words left her mouth the whip came down again,
harder.
"Ooook!" Annie yelled. How she wished she could rub her stricken
bottom with her hands. "Yeeeoch!" Annie screeched as another blow fell,
too soon for her to judge whether the previous one had even been worth
screaming over.
"My, such a voice," Sally said. "Are you trying to break the
windows?" She swished the whip back and forth across her thigh.
"Maybe I'll break all your bottles of hot oil," Annie said ruefully.
"Well, that's a naughty thought," Sally said. WHACK! Down came the
whip. "You should have a better appreciation of my services." WHACK!
"What if a minister baptized a baby and then she told the man to go to
Hell?" WHACK!
Tears were forming in Annie's eyes, though perhaps more from
meekness than true pain. "I'd tell the minister to baptize his own bottom
if that sort of thing was his fancy," Annie gurgled, mangling the metaphor.
"Ooh, you are a bad girl," Sally said, and brought the whip down with
more force than ever.
"Eeeyouch!" Annie cried out. Her hips leapt at the lash. "That one
really hurt!"
"Of course, and this one and this one too!" Sally cried, and the whip
came down a multitude of times. Annie screamed, writhing at the strikes.
A minute or so later Sally was to be seen standing on tip toe,
delicately returning the whip to its holder over the mantle. Annie lay
beneath her, sobbing uncontrollably, bright pink stripes crisscrossing her
bottom. Some, however, were already fading, the whipping in point of fact
being about the most gentle a girl could expect to get. Nonetheless Annie
sobbed for all she was worth, perhaps to evoke pity or even,
unconsciously, to excite the men who witnessed her plight. Monique
stroked her hair and whispered soothing phrases.
30
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