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Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
DESIRE ISLE
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Chapter Fourteen
A burly man stepped into the hold of the ship. Two guards came in
right behind him.
"Martin!" Melanie cried. There was fear in her voice. Gwen started,
then sat stock still upon the bed. Her legs were spread. Her pussy lips
peeped at Martin from a nest of tight blonde curls. Martin's face grinned
in triumph.
"Well, well, if it isn't Gwen--and Melanie, and Kimberly too. And
even naughty Candy, who thought she could still Mr. Savin's money. And
who is this?" He looked at Veronica, but she said nothing. "A fine catch,
I'd say. Enough to satisfy my sadistic desires for years to come. Not to
mention all that lovely loot Candy brought out from the island. Since Mr.
Savin's gone, or should be, it's all mine!"
"Wh-where's David?" Gwen blurted. "What was that noise we heard?"
"The gunfire?" Martin laughed. "David's food for the fishes now. His
hunky body should provide years of feeding."
"You'd provide years of feeding yourself," Kimberly piped up. Martin
had grown a rather large belly since last the girls had seen him, and now
Kimberly, bold in her naivete, glanced meaningfully at it.
"You'll get yours in due time," Martin snarled. He turned and waved
his deck hands back up the stairs. The door to the deck was locked as he
exited the hold.
The girls looked at each other. "What'll we do now?" Veronica asked.
"I knew I should have shot him instead of letting him take my gun,"
Candy said.
"Melanie, I'm scared," Kimberly whined, and embraced her stepsister
in a rare show of affection. Melanie patted the girl consolingly on the
head, wondering who would console her.
Suddenly there was a din of gunfire above decks. "Drop to the floor!"
Candy cried. Two bullets pierced the wall of the hold and struck the far
wall. The girls fell to the floor and huddled together.
"It must be the Coast Guard!" Veronica breathed.
"Fuck!" Candy swore. She glanced at her bags of money, still perched
atop the bed.
"You'd do anything for money, wouldn't you?!" Melanie snapped at
Candy.
"Not anything," Candy replied. "I wouldn't fuck Martin.
Rounds of gunfire continued to be exchanged, then, after a few
lurches of the boat, there was complete silence. Then the girls heard
footfalls on the deck. Within a minute someone was at the door to the
hold, battering it open. Someone rushed down the stairs, followed by
others. The girls gasped when they saw who it was. No policeman or
Coast Guard officer, it was a bandaged, bruised, but alive Mr. Savin.
"Mr. Savin!" Kimberly cried.
"Call me Fred," Mr. Savin replied with eyes that seemed weary.
"Please."
The girls were ushered above deck. Mr. Savin thanked Candy for
being so kind to think of his money, and had the men with him carry it up
from the hold. Candy bit her lower lip, thanked Mr. Savin for his praise.
Above decks the girls saw that a large speedboat was moving
alongside the yacht. Martin and his men lay dead, scattered about on the
yacht's deck. Once more Melanie had to avert her eyes to avoid seeing the
worst of the carnage. This time she also felt like retching.
"Bottom doing okay?" Fred asked Gwen, giving the bruised flesh a
little pat.
"Oooch! Don't!" Gwen protested, then snuggled close to Fred. The
other girls were alarmed by Gwen's affection toward the man who had
beaten her so severely. But they said nothing. Gwen put her tongue to
Fred's ear and licked it.
"There should be a seaplane coming," Fred said, scanning the moonlit
horizon. Above them stars powdered the entire sky.
"What about Diane? And Sherry? And Rob and Brent?" Melanie asked
Fred.
"Only my three men and I escaped," Fred said. "And me just barely."
As he spoke the yacht began to turn.
"Should we continue heading for the coast, sir?" One of Fred's men
asked, hurrying up to him.
"God dammit, I just don't know," Fred said. "The coast is one way,
the seaplane should be coming from the other."
"Are--are they dead?" Melanie asked Fred.
"Who?"
"Rob! And Brent! And Diane and Sherry!" Melanie cried.
"Oh," Fred said, his mind elsewhere, still plotting his escape. "God
knows. I hope they're dead, frankly. Dead men tell no tales."
"Oh, God!" Melanie cried, and put her hands to her face. She began to
sob. The other girls seemed equally moved by Fred's reply. All but Gwen,
who seemed almost to merge with Fred as he held her.
A light glimmered on the horizon. "Get down!" Fred called to the
girls. "A plane's coming, but I don't know who's!" He beckoned one of his
men. A moment later he was hustling forward toward the bridge, all the
while still peering out at the light fast approaching along the surface of
the sea. Gwen still clung to him.
Melanie lay on the deck of the yacht and watched through the
vertical bars of the ship's railing as the light in the sky steadily
approached. She didn't know whether to pray it was the Coast Guard or
Fred's men. Suddenly the plane roared in over the yacht. Fred's men called
out to one another in triumph. It was their seaplane, the next link in their
frantic attempt to elude capture.
Melanie clambered out of the limo, thinking of the past year. She
was dressed in a parka, but beneath she wore lingerie much like that she'd
had on when she'd escaped from Fred's island fortress the previous
summer. Kimberly plopped out of the limo behind her.
"There it is," Kimberly said, her voice small. Before them stood the
ski chalet of Lady Burgess. But it was owned by Gwen now, and she was
waiting inside for them. Fred was there too, along with Veronica and
Candy. Sherry and Diane were there, and Brent, though Rob had died in the
firefight on the island. Renoir and Miriam had been invited, but declined to
come. David was there, however. Martin had lied about David's death.
When David had gone topside he had run to the side of the yacht and dove
into the water. He had reasoned that the girls might be in friendly hands,
or might not be. He had decided to dive into the water, just to see what
the reaction of the men who had picked him up might be. When they fired
after him with their Uzis he reasoned that their intentions were
unfriendly. Better he be in the water alive, perhaps to help the girls
somehow, than be on board but dead, waiting to be rolled overboard to the
sharks. In the end David wound up having to swim all the way to the coast.
If Fred's seaplane saw him, it did not stop to pick him up. Making good the
escape of Mr. Savin was the seaplane's one and only priority.
"I want to do it!" Kimberly hissed to Melanie. The blonde stepped
aside and let Kimberly take hold of the big brass door knocker on Gwen's
front door. The stepsisters were on the front porch now. Melanie knew
Gwen must have seen them pull up. Fred, even. But there was ritual here.
They must ask to be admitted before the door would be opened, to ensure
their complicity in what might follow.
Three knocks. A pause. Then the front door opened. Gwen smiled at
them. The stepsisters were urged inside by the doorman. "Hurry if you
want to come in! It's cold outside!" The doorman was David, his English
better, his muscles bigger. No doubt Gwen had given him lots of strenuous
chores to build his lean body up even further. Gwen gave each of the girls
a big hug.
"My! You're both so beautiful!" Gwen said as David took the
stepsisters' fur coats. Melanie had on a white bra, panties, and stockings,
plus heels. In addition she wore a pearl necklace, and a bow of pearls in
her hair. She wore pearl earrings too, and on one wrist a bracelet of
pearls. Fred had shown his heartfelt appreciation for the girls' bringing
out his money from the island by giving each of them a share.
Kimberly was dressed just like her stepsister, but all in black, with
a gold choker and earrings instead of pearls. On her left hand there was a
diamond ring though not, it might be added, as a token of marriage, but
rather as a tease to men that they might long to marry her. Now that the
girls had been freed of their furs Gwen kissed each one again. She was
wearing a blue babydoll with no panties or bra. Garters ran down from the
babydoll, holding up blue stockings. She was bedecked in jewelry of
amethyst and diamonds.
As Melanie pecked Gwen on the cheek, returning her kiss, she felt
Gwen's hand come to her breast and squeeze it. Melanie inhaled Gwen's
wonderful perfume. She felt Gwen's breasts press up against her own.
"You've always been my very favorite," Gwen said under her breath.
Melanie arched her back more, pressing her breasts more fully to Gwen's.
"Mine too," Melanie replied and, her mouth still hovering over Gwen's
cheek, kissed her again.
"I love you most of all," Kimberly said, standing on tiptoe and
wrapping her arms about Gwen's neck when her turn came to share a kiss.
Kimberly pressed her mouth to Gwen's cheek and held it there. Demurely
Gwen caressed the girl's shoulder, toyed with the spaghetti strap of her
bra.
"I love you too," Gwen said to Kimberly. "Very much." She returned
the girl's kiss. Then she reached round and gave Kimberly's bottom a little
pinch.
"Hey!" Kimberly cried. Happily she broke from Gwen and touched a
hand to her bottom where she'd been pinched. Gwen turned and led the
girls to the waiting partiers.
Kisses were exchanged between each of the girls and the
stepsisters. Then light conversation ensued amongst the guests, the
females in lingerie and the males in Jockeys with prominent bulges. A bit
later Gwen called the room to order. There was to be a little ceremony, to
complete the initiation of the girls into Fred's inner circle. A ceremony
that had been begun but not finished last summer on the island. In the
intervening months the stepsisters had returned home, taken up school in
the fall, lived like any other girls, though indeed clandestinely a bit
richer. Melanie had never pursued whoring again, and figured she probably
never would. Candy claimed to still keep whoring open as an option,
though she too had not done any more. Veronica had gone back to her
husband, but she was here tonight, though her husband thought she was off
visiting her mother.
The girls were lined up in a row in front of Fred, who was about to
read from a book.
"Girls, today you are to be initiated into the island retreat of
libertine pleasures; though, indeed, the island is unfortunately now in the
hands of our beloved Government. In any event, tonight you girls shall kiss
each of the guests; which, indeed, you have already done, and will no doubt
do some more. In addition you must bare yourselves--" At this last
Melanie felt Veronica's hand steal to her bottom, and feel her pantied rear.
Melanie was standing right next to Veronica, and responded by putting a
hand to Veronica's bottom. She pressed her fingers into Veronica's
bottomcrack, as if to say, "And there, double for you!" Veronica rubbed
Melanie's bottom, pressing her hand hard against the cheeks as Fred in
detail ticked off the various implements which would be made available to
the members of the club for whacking the girl's bottoms. It would be
nothing like what Gwen endured, that would come much later, months
hence, and only if the girls acceded to it. Tonight it would be just a little
teaser, enough to turn their bottoms and bright shade of pink and give the
members and bit of wicked fun. Veronica, however, had daringly asked
Fred before the party that he give her a few more whacks than the other
girls.
When Fred's droning litany was over, the girls separated. Each was
attended to by one female, who completely undressed her down to her
thigh-high stockings and pumps. Even the girls' jewelry was removed.
Then, in this near-naked state, bottoms bulging, each girl was embraced
by her female attendant in a bold, deep kiss. Melanie was being seen to by
Gwen, and as they kissed, arms delicately looping about each other,
Melanie felt one of her bare breasts jut between Gwen's ample bosoms.
The babydoll did little to keep Gwen's breasts from surging forward to
engage Melanie's. Their mouth's meshed, tongues lapping at and within
each other's lips. Gwen let her palm slide down over the white cheeks of
Melanie's bottom. Soon even such a soft caress as Gwen gave Melanie
there would sting. And Melanie's bottom, now chilly in its nudity, would
soon long for a reprieve from heat.
Candy was embraced by Sherry, Veronica by Diane, Kimberly by yet
another girl. Finally, when the men's lust had been properly stoked by the
cooing female couples, the initiates were separated from their attendants.
Then they were walked over to the side of the room, where a settee
waited to receive them. The settee had all the while been there, turned
about so that its back faced out toward the center of the room. A small
cushion was laid atop the settee for each girl before she was pressed up
against it and bent over. Between the seat cushions of the settee were
little leather straps, bolted down to the sofa, for the girls to hang on to.
When each girl had been bent over Gwen walked along the front of
the settee, next to the wall, and slipped a bit of rubber into each girl's
mouth. "Bite down hard," Gwen advised as she slipped the rubber into each
girl's orifice. Melanie tossed her head once, trying to get the hair out of
her eyes as she waited for the proceedings to begin. Behind her she could
hear a trunk brought out, then the comments of the guests as they
inspected the various implements of flagellation inside the trunk and
aimed to pick one that would please them. Melanie heard Fred say that he
would take the Cat O' Nines. Melanie flinched when she heard someone
mention electrodes; then, amidst the laughter of the guests, she realized
it was only a joke.
"Now girls, we have something called the 'regulation distance,'"
Gwen said. She explained that each girl's ankles must be spread to a
distance of two feet. Bumping and jostling, the girls attempted to comply.
Melanie was beginning to wonder if this had really been a wise decision
for her as she felt the air of the room tingle upon her newly exposed sex.
It was cooler now; the heater had been shut off. This was so the initiates
would feel the distinction between their bodies, soon to be chilly,
compared to the heat of their soon to be spanked bottoms. In addition, the
cooler air would keep the people whipping their bottoms from breaking out
into a sweat.
Sherry began at one end of the row of initiates, Diane at the other.
Each daintily knelt at the initiate's feet. The work they did there was as
follows: Veronica, at the far right, had her right ankle bound to the foot
of the couch with a leather cord. Then Veronica's left ankle was bound to
Melanie's right with another cord of leather. Melanie's pump clicked
against Veronica's as they were brought together.
Bent over next to Melanie was Candy, the two partners in crime now
fully displayed for a bit of free, legal sexual fun. (Though no doubt if a
film had been made of what they were about to undergo it would be
strictly illegal.) Finally, wriggling on the left, looking a bit like a girl
dressing just one or two years ahead of her age, was Kimberly. Indeed she
was just a bottom now, and a fairly restrained one at that, but her
inability to keep still even when tied belied her tender years.
"Settle down," Sherry said calmingly to Kimberly, stroking the girl's
thigh. "You're like a calf about to be branded." Sherry raised the level of
her voice as she spoke for, indeed, Kimberly's head was on the other side
of the settee.
"Mf amf lf a clf about to be branded!" Kimberly mumbled through her
rubber bit, dropping it with the final words. A girl in front, shy and
unaffected as Diane, picked up Kimberly's rubber bit from the cushions
beneath her face.
"Here," the girl, named Cheryl, said, gently replacing the bit. "You
mustn't speak or you'll drop it. Then they'll have to tie something over
your mouth to hold it in." Cheryl pressed at the bit to make sure it was
held just right between Kimberly's teeth. Then she brushed back a long
mane of yellow hair and added, "You need only listen and obey right now,
Kimber." (Cheryl had made up this nickname for her little charge since
they'd been introduced.)
A moment more and all four female's ankles were bound one to
another and, and the ends of the settee, to a leg of the piece of furniture.
"Why must we be bound?" Melanie wanted to ask her hosts, but dared not
for dropping her rubber bit and making Cheryl have to replace it, complete
with an admonishment. At least their wrists were not bound. They were
expected to hold on to their straps like proper ladies throughout the
initiation. But, Melanie wondered, would she be able to? Melanie looked
over toward Kimberly, but couldn't see her little stepsister due to the
presence inbetween of Candy's head. Suddenly Candy's head lurched up and
a grimace came to her soft features as, simultaneously, Melanie heard the
swift crack of leather on flesh. Fear involuntarily spread its tentacles
through Melanie's stomach. The ceremony's main feature, so long in
preparation, had begun! As Candy's head sprang up from the blow, her
hands straining to hold on to the straps, Melanie saw Kimberly's face turn
toward her, eyes wide with girlish terror. Then Candy's head rebounded
back toward the cushions and blocked the view.
Melanie braced herself for the blow she knew must come.
Stunningly, she instead felt a wetness sprinkled onto her bottom. As a
brief odor of perfume wafted by, a female voice said, "I prefer to wet
them down before a good walloping. It makes it sting more." Melanie tried
to turn her head as best she could to look behind her. She caught a glimpse
of a woman holding a bottle of scent spray aloft with a flourish. Then the
bottle descended again and more liquid perfume droplets rained upon
Melanie's bottom, leaving just the slightest tingle of a sting. "And now
the belt, if you please," the woman said. Melanie's neck muscles strained
as she again tried to get as best a view as possible. She saw a slither of
flat leather pass behind her. Melanie's long hair, such an asset most of the
time to her, now nastily tumbled down over her face, obscuring her view.
"This one looks like she should be able to stand a really good walloping,"
the woman said. Melanie trembled. She did not even know this woman!
Yet now her sex was bared to her. If they had spoken, Melanie had
forgotten. She had been introduced to a host of people at this party. But
inside she had felt nervous, reducing her ability to pay attention, to do
anything more than nod and answer as politely as she could. And, on top of
that, she had been most interested in her friends, whom she had not seen
for six months. But were they her friends, really? She had only known
Sherry for the space of an afternoon. Even Gwen she had only known a
week, and had been introduced to her by being tied to a post and given over
to the naughtiness of her little stepsister! Melanie felt like a side of beef
on display in a butcher shop. These were less friends at her rear than
customers, people who saw her only in terms of their own enjoyment!
"It is better to give than to receive," the woman said, and Melanie's
fingers froze upon the sofa straps as she heard a swish behind her in the
air.
"Auchgh!" Melanie cried, rearing up. Before she knew it she had
dropped her bit and was standing behind the settee, legs still in their
enforced spread, hands on her bottom. Melanie rubbed the flaming
hemispheres. She tottered on her widely spread heels as she fought to
maintain her balance. Manly hands came to her shoulders, steadied her.
Melanie looked about and bit her lower lip. A flush of
embarrassment came over her face. She looked into the visage of Rob.
From him she looked at the others, assembled about her, looks of
disapproval on her face. "I-I'm sorry!" Melanie stammered. She felt
mortified! She had expected her little stepsister to jump up! But her?
Surely she could not really be standing, too immature to hold on to the
sofa straps. She had even dropped her bit!
"Bend down again," Rob urged. With a sad bowing of her head Melanie
let Rob put her back over the sofa's rear. Gently he adjusted the pillow
under her tummy once more. As Melanie's face came back down to the seat
cushions Cheryl was there, bit in hand.
"You must bite down hard, like this," Cheryl demonstrated. Melanie
lifted her chin and watched as Cheryl took Melanie's bit, coated with
Melanie's saliva, and placed it within her mouth. Cheryl clamped down on
the bit, seemed to say "See?" over her lips. Then she removed it from her
mouth and offered it to Melanie. Reluctantly Melanie accepted the bit once
more.
A woman floated to the front of the settee, where the girls' heads
were, and drew forth fur-lined handcuffs. She cuffed Melanie's wrist to
Sherry's.
"Let me do the little one next," a female voice said. Kimberly felt
affronted at this description, and hoped the "little" only applied to her age.
In size, she was sure, she was almost as big as the other girls!
"No," another interrupted. "The little one must be taught patience.
Let her be done last."
"That means the mother of two next," the first voice said.
"Yes."
"Such a trim bottom for a mother, yet fully mature, not bony at the
hips like the little one."
"It's that 'boniness' that makes her bottom so pert!" A male voice
said. "I like it." Kimberly heard the man and knew he was talking of her.
She felt a sense of pride.
"You, dear, should have been locked up years ago for your aesthetic
tastes regarding the female species, and I'm sure if you didn't have such a
wonderful lawyer you would have been," a woman's voice said.
"Get on with it," the man replied. "Are you going to whack her or
not?"
"Mmm, we females get first crack, and you males are sooo impatient
for us to hurry so you can have your turns aren't you?" the woman said.
"Well, Mr. Molester, I want you to give this fine mother's bottom over here
a little lick." Melanie felt movement beyond her, past her, as if the woman
was urging the man toward Veronica. And she was. "That's it, bend over
and eat her pussy. Perhaps its your first taste of it, hmmm? Of woman's
pussy, I mean. You should be made to eat it until you prefer it to nothing
else."
Veronica felt the roughness of a man's face touch upon her heinie,
then a very tentative lick along her labia. The man's clothes rustled as he
stood back up.
"Hmm? Well?" the woman asked.
"Aged to perfection," the man said.
"Oh! All you men are nothing but perverts!" the woman exclaimed. "I
want each one of you to come here and lick this woman's pussy. Right now!
Do it!" The men must not, in fact, have been as depraved as the woman
alleged, for they pressed in upon Veronica and jostled one another for a
taste. Soon the woman was having to use a riding crop to beat them off.
"One lick! That's all! You've had your turn!" the woman cried,
somewhat pleased at the virility of the men's response all the same.
Finally the men, so that none would get more than the other, all agreed to
desist.
Veronica was swooning. Such pleasure! She had never entertained a
whole roomful of male tongues up her pussy before! She was still
shivering with delight as she heard the woman lift her aforementioned
riding crop high in the air with an ominous swish. Veronica had just time
enough to tense before the crop came blazing down.
"Mmmmf!" Veronica lurched upward, caught herself, her fingers
straining at the loops of leather in the seat of the settee. WHACK! Again
the crop came, as if Veronica had disappointed the woman by not standing
up as Melanie had. Again, just barely, Veronica managed to hold on.
"She's well trained, this one," the woman torturer said of Veronica.
There was a note of dismay in her voice. Veronica clenched her teeth hard
against the bit. If the woman had only known how close she had come to
breaking... Now that Veronica had proven herself Melanie's other wrist
was handcuffed with a second set of cuffs to her. Melanie gulped. Now
she could only rise up if one or the other girl chose to. Otherwise, she
was as immobile as a prisoner in the Tower of London.
"And now for little Kimberly," a woman, different from the other,
said.
"Isn't this past your bed time?" Kimberly's female torturer asked her
mockingly. Kimberly did her best to suppress a fierce blush of anger.
"Well, I'm told you're quite naughty," the woman continued. Kimberly felt
the warning tap of a birch rod upon her bottom. "The funny thing about
naughtiness, though, is that a good beating drives it right out," the woman
went on. "I've heard so much talk lately of costly psychologists, expensive
books and tapes and such, but really all one needs for a bad girl is a stick.
It's best if it comes from a birch tree, of course. But really any will do.
Lift your bottom high, girl, and I shall demonstrate to our friends here.
Even they will notice a change in you when I'm done."
If any of the four initiates could have lifted her bottom any higher,
it was not Kimberly. Being the smallest of the four, she could barely
reach the straps she was required to hold on to, while still keeping her
feet on the floor at the other end. Indeed, her spiked heels did not quite
touch the floor, although her toes did. Her youthful bottom jutted up
mercilessly, seemingly like a bubble on the brink of bursting.
The woman rubbed the scratchy birch rod over Kimberly's bottom.
Unlike her stepsister's hiney, hers had been permitted to remain dry.
Kimberly squirmed. The little buds on the birch tickled with an
invidiousness that belied their true purpose. This was silly! If her bottom
didn't itch, why should it be scratched? She was beginning not to like the
ways of adults. Kimberly looked over at Candy. If only she could be like
her! She had borne her stroke with utmost stoicism. It was funny, girls
were taught to be emotional, to react impulsively to every little thing in
their lives. Yet now they must not. Just the opposite was required. They
must suppress their feelings and bear their strokes with dignity.
A whistling at Kimberly's bottom indicated the inevitable. WHICK!
With implacable efficiency the pencil-thin birch rod bit mightily into
Kimberly's bottom. Its buds sought out targets all across her flesh,
snooping into even her most intimate places.
Kimberly leapt up. Her hands flew to her bottom and she began
rubbing it furiously. And then, like a newborn babe, a torrent of tears
erupted from her. She knew she could not withstand the blows of the
birch without flinching, like the older girls had. Not now, not ten strokes
from now.
"Let her go! She's too young!" Melanie cried, trying to rise herself
but unable to.
Kimberly wanted very much to agree with her sister, and even felt
herself nodding her head in agreement. Yet she wanted so much to grow
up! She felt as abysmal as a 5-year-old who wakes up to find a wet bed.
Fred came to her then, stroking her, caressing her. His fly must have been
unbuttoned, for she felt a strong, knobby presence press its way
insistently between her bottom cheeks. Kimberly felt a wave of self-
assurance. She couldn't be too little, if she was able to affect a man's rod
like that. Fred seemed to try to pull his hips back, as if embarrassed that
he had let himself drive into her like that. But Kimberly arched her back
and pushed out her bottom as far as it would go, recapturing him. This
time Fred did not retreat.
"Will you go on?" Fred asked gently of Kimberly.
"Yeth," Kimberly lisped. She wanted him to hold her like that
forever, her bottom protected from the fierce birch, yet a newfound home
to what could be Fred's equally fierce manhood. It was a strange sort of
paradox. Fred's breath blew hotly upon her neck. He kissed her cheek,
almost as a father would. Her education must continue.
Kimberly let herself be bent back over the couch. Cheryl was
waiting for her, bit in hand, cuffs at the ready. "C'mon, Kimber," Cheryl
said chidingly. Yet her words were only those of a friend helping another
get over something she must, like a first foray on a swing, a first trip
down a waterslide. Feeling the gravest of reservations Kimberly watched
as Cheryl bound her wrists with the handcuffs. One was to Candy, but the
other to the forever unmutinous wooden arm of the couch.
"There, I think we can proceed now," Kimberly's female torturer said
sternly. Once more the withy birch explored her bottom before striking.
When the woman felt ready, she lifted the birch. WHACK! The second blow
came home, and it was twice as bad as the first.
Almost simultaneously the flagelletory implements of the girls'
other torturers hit home. A series of muted cries rang through the room.
Two of the girls held their bits, but Melanie and Kimberly lost theirs
again. More blows reined down, in a general free for all, four female
assailants, four victims. Melanie managed to stifle her screams, despite
the lack of a bit. Cheryl, seeing that Kimberly would never give up
dropping her bit, gave up trying to hold it in for the girl and tied a silken
handkerchief over Kimberly's cheeks. "Oh, if only the handkerchief were
over my nether cheeks!" Cheryl knew Kimberly must be thinking. Then
Cheryl rose and crossed to Melanie, where she retrieved the girl's bit and
placed it back in, then helped it stay in place by holding it there for the
next several blows. Finally she pulled her hand back and watched with
admiration as Melanie managed to retain the bit while suffering the most
formidable of blows.
Soon the female torturers were replaced by others, and finally by
men. Each person brought his favorite implement to bear on the upraised
bottoms. Finally, at Gwen's urging, Fred called a halt.
"Let the girls have a chance to catch their breath," Fred said. "Then
we'll go one more round." Melanie's bit dropped from her mouth and her
eyes widened. Her bottom felt on fire! How could they possibly go a
second round? Her poor hiney! Melanie looked over at Candy and the girl
looked at her. Candy's face was red. A tear trickled down one cheek.
Melanie licked the corner of her own mouth and tasted salt. She must be
crying silent tears too. Melanie shifted, pain shooting through her bottom,
and looked at Veronica. The woman looked straight ahead. She too had let
her bit fall. Her mouth lolled open, like a cow looking for something to
chew. A man came round and offered her his penis. She accepted it
without protest. Seconds later the same treat was accorded to Melanie.
Soon all four initiates were sucking upon male stems, dutifully drawing
forth the first pearling drops of nectar that they knew churned in the balls
just below.
Little Kimberly looked like she was sucking fluid from the end of a
rainspout, so big was the man's penis in comparison to her child-like face.
Why indeed the largest man in the group had chosen Kimberly to receive
his seed was certainly a question the young girl must have been pondering
as she struggled to do well by him. Finally, with a burst that felt it must
have exploded from a ruptured dam, the man's musky nectar blasted into
Kimberly, causing her such shock that she threw back her head and nearly
uprooted him from her mouth. But the man grasped her head between both
his sturdy hands and forced her back onto him, burrowing deeper even than
he had dared venture before. Not until the last drop of cum had been swept
from his balls did he allow little Kimberly to unburden herself of his cock.
Just as quickly, however, another man took his place, and, judging from
his size, he must have been the second biggest cock in the room!
Fred chose to spend in Melanie. As the blonde gazed at his hairy
stomach and, occasionally, up at his face, the blow job became almost a
romantic experience. There was great tenderness in Fred's eyes, yet
complete firmness too. It was with relish that Melanie serviced this
particular gentleman. Other fine fellows followed, but none, it seemed
like him. Was it merely the power he exercised? His wealth? Certainly
his body ranked among the top men in the room, though how he found the
time to train it was beyond her. Even at the party he had not been far from
a phone, breaking away occasionally to guide his ongoing business deals.
"Now that the girls have had a little nourishment, let's give them an
opportunity to raise the men back from the dead so that we women can
have some too," Gwen announced. The initiates bits were replaced.
"IÑI can't go on with this any longer," Melanie said pleadingly to
Cheryl, speaking for what she knew were the feelings of all four initiates.
"It is only for a little while longer," Cheryl replied in a comforting
voice, though it gave no comfort to Melanie. She felt the hardness of the
rubber bit between her teeth once more.
"Mmmff!" Melanie cried. Already it had begun again. Around her she
heard discussion of new weapons of choice, and then the now familiar
cracking against flesh as they met their first tests. Kimberly was taken
to with a birch rod once more, though the rod was now a new one, despite
the fact that she still had the same old red-laced bottom. Kimberly
squirmed her skinny hips.
"YFCHCHCH!" Kimberly screamed beneath her gag as the new birch bit
into her. She began to cry freely.
Candy had heard of a woman in Egypt once who had been flayed alive.
Truly, she thought that was what must be happening to her bottom. Only
half an hour ago it had been white and flawless. Now she knew it must be
all red, for it seemed as if someone had taken a match to it. She squished
her eyelids shut as another blow from a small whip made its presence felt
on her bottom in a big way. How long could she endure? She felt as if she
must cough out her bit at any moment.
Veronica nearly spit out her own bit as the broad leather of a
spanking strap was applied to her bottom. It was being delivered by a
man, who apparently took delight in the idea of a mature mother of two
like herself being disciplined with an implement made primarily for
children. The force of the man's blows kept the spanking strap from being
too easy a torture for Veronica. Each strike sent her reeling with pain.
Melanie was being done with a pony whip, courtesy of a man who
billed himself as a cop. If so, he must be a corrupt one to go about in the
company of Fred. Each admonitory swing of the whip sent Melanie wanting
to gallop straight off the couch and through the wall. Did he think she was
a girl, or a horse? Did he even care?
Finally ice was brought and the four initiates were given a soothing
wash down, one ice cube on their bottoms at a time. The ice itself was so
cold that it managed to apply a sting of its own. By now Melanie and the
rest were nearly beyond consciousness. They seemed to float in a
neverland of euphoria usually reserved only for the imbibers of illegal
drugs. Yet the girls had both feet, and bottoms, firmly planted in reality.
Every twitch of their heinies brought new spasms of pain, yet in a sense
even as they felt the pain they now felt cut off from it. Certainly this
was not a party any of them would soon forget! Melanie thought back to
her first prom, of dancing with a boy she thought she must live with for
every second of the rest of her life. She sort of felt that way about Fred
now, despite the torture which he had orchestrated for her and her friends.
A click of handcuffs caused Melanie to realize that she was about to
be released. Her bottom was a sheen of wetness now, thanks to the ice.
When Melanie's hands had been freed she didn't move, nor did any of the
other girls. They had been secured to the couch so long that they didn't
have the will any longer to pull themselves from it. Aimlessly Melanie
kicked back a high-heeled foot. Only then did she realize that her ankles
were no longer bound to those of Candy or Veronica.
"Help them, dears," a female's voice said. Male hands came to each
of the initiates and lifted them up. The girls nearly sank right into the
stiff pestles of their manly assistants when they rose. How odd, Melanie
thought, as she was helped up and sank immediately backward, right onto
the prong of her helper. The hair of his loins seemed to burn new patterns
into the sensitized flesh of her bottom. She nearly impaled herself by
accident on him, her bottom wet from the ice, even in its crevice, his wet
from the new application of some feminine tongue.
"Shall we go to bed?" A woman asked casually, addressing everyone,
no one. There was a rustle of bodies moving closer. Hands clasped,
assignations were agreed upon. Before Melanie knew what was at her she
was in the arms of a man and woman whom she didn't even recognize. Or,
rather, she was between them, being 'helped' along by them across the
room. A darkened hallway waited, beckoning with rooms ready for love.
Melanie darted a look over her shoulder, searching for her little
stepsister. Amidst the rapidly disrobing throng she saw two men at
Veronica, one feasting on her titties, the other bending her forward to get
his pole up her butt. But of her other fellow sufferers she saw nothing.
"Wait!" Melanie cried to her new captors, meaning to break from the
couple and go search out her sister.
"The time for waiting is over," the woman who held her replied, and
her husband gripped Melanie more firmly still.
30
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-END OF story EMISSION