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Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
DESIRE ISLE
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Chapter Three
That nobody suggested the furs be employed to obtain a key from the
front desk of Melanie and Kimberly's hotel was not surprising. David
surely would not suggest such a thing, even with his limited English, for it
might take the twin young female guests from him. Gwendolyn seemed
delighted with her newfound charges, and surely money could not buy her
such wonderfully innocent playthings no matter how much she might be
willing to spend. Kimberly was entirely under the Svengali-like influence
of Gwendolyn, mistaking her newfound power over her older friend as a
permanent grant. Melanie was too shocked by what she had undergone to
voice any comment whatever. She merely sat sniveling on the bench seat,
huddled over, wrapped in the enfolding warmth of Gwendolyn's expensive
fur, on "loan" from Kimberly. Naked Kimberly sat beside her, attempting to
soothe her by stroking her hair, the crop still held lightly in her other
hand.
A bit later the driver's voice crackled through the handset mounted
on the front wall. In French he announced their arrival at Gwendolyn's
chateau. Melanie did not look up. She clutched her fur about her now,
swearing to never go naked again. It was still worn like a shawl about her
shoulders, however. David tugged at the coat. Melanie gripped it tighter,
sworn never to release it.
"Do not pull overmuch on Melanie's coat, David, I fear you may break
one of her nails," came Gwendolyn's soft voice to Melanie's ears. Melanie
almost gave a start. Who was this strange, beautiful, bewitching woman,
who would tie her to a fencepost in a snowstorm and whip her but yet fear
to break even one of Melanie's fingernails? Melanie felt Gwendolyn's
amazing words imbue a sense of docility in her. Without releasing the
coat, she allowed David to urge her from the limousine.
Once more Melanie's feet hit the snow. It was thin here, as if
recently swept. It puffed in little powdery balls as her toes kicked
through it. David's arm, protectively, surmounted her shoulders. Her fur
lined shoulders. He led her toward a lighted entryway through endless
swirls of snow. Behind her Kimberly complained of the cold. She was
naked. She heard Kimberly press close to Gwendolyn for comfort.
Melville apparently served as both driver and butler. His senile form
lurched inside the chateau just behind the twin couples. Slowly
Gwendolyn unfolded Kimberly. There was snow upon Kimberly's bare
bosoms. Gwendolyn swept it off with her hands.
Reluctantly David unbound Melanie from her grasp. She did not
acknowledge him. Still the fur clung to her. It would save her from any
future whippings Gwendolyn and Kimberly might have in store for her.
"Come," Gwendolyn beckoned the foursome. "We must warm
ourselves." Melville, apparently knowing his aged rod was not wanted, did
not follow. He would get his spanking later, no doubt, in private. Where
his ancient spendings could not seem ridiculous before the fires of youth.
Melanie glanced at David. There was still snow on his shoulders, his
chest, even the uppermost swell of his buttocks. Nobody had bothered to
brush it off. Sympathetically, Melanie extended a hand as they walked.
She brushed frozen water from his broad clavicles. He looked at her,
surprised. Something in her manner told him not to advantage himself by
her care. He walked on as her hand flitted over his chest, burnishing it as
she brushed its taut, sinewed surface. Then on to a smattering of
snowflakes on his tummy, his upper arms and, lastly, the cheeks of his
bottom. David looked hopefully at Melanie at this but she then withdrew
her hand and hid it once more in her fur. She drifted from him, putting
another foot between them. There was snow on the upthrust spire of his
penis but that she dared not touch.
Exquisite marble statues lined the long hall down which Gwendolyn
now led them. Bare eyed men and women stared out at them, pupils
nonexistent but every other part of their body rendered in exacting detail.
Each was perfectly formed, and perfectly naked. The nipples of each
female stuck out stiffly, unlike their Roman ancestors. The men sported
erections which threatened to waylay a traveller of the hall who wandered
too close. Certainly a tort lawyer would have insisted that the stone
penises must go. Melanie's eyes drifted once more to David, to his
handsome cock. He was just like one of the statues! A living piece of
walking statuary. Whatever the problems of pollution in Eastern Europe,
they had not dampened the growth of his muscles, including that between
his thighs. And she? Was she a living statue too? Kimberly's rolling
bottom wandered into view on her opposite side. Yes, even Kimberly, crop
and all, seemed to have stepped down from one of the pedestals.
Gwendolyn led the little group into an anteroom at the far end of
which was a wooden door. She swung it open. Steam billowed forth. It
was a sauna, and before Melanie could draw any implications from their
arrival at it she was already inside, prodded forward by David's penis at
her rear.
Gwendolyn sat upon a wooden bench and Kimberly sat down beside
her. Next to Kimberly Melanie plopped herself down, and beside her David.
Gwendolyn removed her coat and hung it on a little peg. She did not ask
for Melanie's. Gwendolyn put her hands on Kimberly's upper arms and
rubbed them vigorously. Kimberly leaned close and relished the woman's
attention. Was she her long lost mommie, come back to lavish all the
wonderful things on her that Kimberly had missed being raised only by her
daddie? Perhaps for Kimberly, at least, she was. Melanie had had a
mother and felt no especial need for Gwendolyn. David breathed hotly in
her ear. He was amorous. His cock trembled just inches from the juncture
of her thighs. Melanie felt warm. Very, very warm, Melanie realized, as
the heat of the sauna enveloped her. Her coat must come off. Yet, no! She
had told herself it would never come off again...certainly not in company
such as this! David's hands lifted to her shoulders. He knew her warmth.
He offered to alleviate it for her. Reluctantly, oh God no! Melanie let the
coat be lifted from her. She knew she must try to run from the sauna,
dodge the crop that was sure to follow, yet here was David, such a
gentleman, so loving, so kind, perhaps eager to make up for what he did to
her in the snow? Up went her coat, and David turned briefly to hang it on
the wall by the door. His haunches never left their place next to her
bottom, he merely twisting around, giving Melanie a perfect view of his
finely sculpted back as he put away her coat for her.
Melanie looked down at her parted thighs. David's hands came once
more to her shoulders, bare now, flesh to flesh, his breath hot in her ear.
Melanie glanced at his own thighs. They were parted too, his big balls
bulging between them, apparently already refilled with sperm after she
and Kimberly emptied them in the car with their feathers. David followed
her wandering eyes and took them as a hint to pull her closer. He was
eager to spill again.
Melanie let her eyes drift away from David, to Kimberly. Her thighs
too were spread, beyond the latitude of ladyhood, or even girlhood.
Gwendolyn too sat with splayed legs. Their heads were pressed together,
as if seeking refuge from each other's shoulders. Sweat rolled in clean,
glistening streaks down their bodies. Melanie realized she too was
beading forth perspiration, and David. She wanted to put her head on the
shoulder of the man beside her but feared what message he would draw
from it.
Kimberly looked up at her and a plot hatched in the girl's mind. Her
hips squirmed, as if she needed a toilet. "Ma'am?" Kimberly asked
Gwendolyn.
"Yes?" Gwendolyn replied. Her voice was lilting, reassuring.
"Ma'am, I got that feather tickling me in the limo but, well," her hips
wriggled again. "But I never got to feel any relief from it, like Melanie
did. I still feel as if it's at me." The traitor! She wanted David's penis, or
at least wanted to deprive Melanie of it. Gwendolyn laughed a golden
laugh. Melanie put her hand to David's cock. Just like that. Without a
second thought.
"Go away!" Melanie hissed at Kimberly as, with Gwendolyn's silent
permission, the brunette scooted close.
"I'll hit you with my crop," Kimberly warned, raising her newly
acquired implement. Melanie felt rage and lunged upon the brunette. Her
hand grasped the wrist that held the rod. Her other gripped Kimberly's
shoulder in an unloving embrace. They struggled. Their heads twisted to
and fro as they sought for advantage. Their hair flew about, streaming in
the sauna, stirring the air. Gwendolyn laughed again. Had she known this
would be the outcome?
Melanie's might proved stronger as Kimberly felt herself pressed
backward, down onto the bench. Slowly Melanie's fingers worked their
way up over Kimberly's hand, vying with her there for possession of the
crop. One by one Kimberly felt her fingers give way. "Nooo!" Kimberly
cried, but even as the last echo of the syllable left her mouth the crop was
broken from her grasp. Her new crop. Her mantle of omnipotent power.
Melanie sat up with a start and brought the crop in a quick succession of
blows down upon Kimberly's stomach. "EEEyah!" Kimberly cried, and
attempted to wriggle out from underneath the rain of blows. Finally she
rolled away, taking hits on her thighs and the edge of her derriere as she
did so. She ran to the bucket of water sitting by the brazier. She lifted it,
threateningly. Melanie stopped. She could not remember whether water in
such a container in a sauna was cold or hot. If hot, she must not venture
any closer. She withdrew. She would keep the memory of the stripes on
Kimberly's tummy and legs as her memento of victory. She needed no
more. Kimberly slithered into the protective embrace of Gwendolyn.
Melanie retreated to David.
The boy enfolded Melanie once more. His grip was strong, protective.
She had defended her right to his penis. But now, as her hand flitted
dangerously close to it in his close embrace of her, she wondered if she
dared take it. Could she let her guard down long enough in this wicked
place to get fucked? Who was this David, anyway, other than a handsome
young man with an amazing pego. Did she need any more introduction than
that? Her fingers alighted upon his 10 inch rod. She could feel the blood
pumping hotly through the blue green veins. The tube of muscle seemed to
welcome her touch, it grew another half inch.
Melanie let a little gasp catch in her throat as she trailed her
fingers along the length of David's penis. Just what every man wanted, no
doubt, to have a female exclaim over his rod. Yet Melanie couldn't help
herself. It was so gorgeous, so inviting... Melanie felt herself urged
upward. David's hands, guiding, gripping her bottom, bringing it to rest on
his knees. A moment later and she was a little girl sitting in her daddy's
lap, facing him, wanting a story, an adventure. His cock nosed against her
quim. His hands eased her bottom forward along his thighs. She felt his
precum moisten the inner lips of her labia as his penis delved just inside.
His thumb trailed down and her eyes followed it. His eyes also. He
thumbed her clitoris. Melanie felt her mouth fall open, as if to catch flies.
She swooned under his touch. Her head twisted sideways with pleasure.
Her eyes caught sight of Kimberly and Gwendolyn. They were kissing.
In drove the cockhead. Melanie could not stop it, didn't want to.
David's hands gripped her bottom firmly. He wriggled forward even as his
hands drew her closer. His cockhead disappeared inside her cunt. Melanie
felt herself fall forward, lean close to her suitor. Her hands alighted upon
his shoulders. She looked away, though, looked at Kimberly and Gwendolyn.
The blonde woman's hand trailed down over Kimberly's breast to touch her
nipple there. It was already stiff. Kimberly reciprocated. Gwendolyn's
nipple rose to her girlish touch.
In drove the gristle, the pestle that needed to spear a young female
in order to derive its daily pleasure. How many girls had been skewered
before her? Melanie did not care. She gushed a whoosh of breath; lips
pursed, eyelids fluttering. This was heaven. Heaven it was for a girl to be
taken by a man, to receive him in her womb, to draw forth his spouting
sperm and grow children inside her. Would she one day be an incubator for
David's child? He certainly looked as if he could sire healthy ones. Deeper
he drove, and Melanie felt the uppermost portion of her flat belly come to
rest against his own. Would he make her tummy swell one day?
Kimberly could get no children from her pleasure. Yet that seemed
not to dampen in the least her enthusiasm for it. They were French
kissing now, Kimberly and Gwendolyn, hands alighting for the first time
upon each other's cunnies. Kimberly stiffened. The first of her spendings,
here in the steam, or was it just an initial pang of pleasure, a promise of
more to come? Gwendolyn seemed more reserved, as if offering to lead a
child into the wonders of some new sport rather than being led herself.
The door to the sauna opened. Melanie's head flew about. Her lips formed
an "O" of surprise. It was Melville, still in his tux.
Melanie felt herself flush. David's penis was halfway up her now,
but at least five inches remained unburied, remained lewdly sticking from
her, like a carrot that wanted not the ground. Beyond Gwendolyn, unseen
by Melanie, looked up. There was mist in her eyes. Kimberly seemed
unfazed, still lost in sapphic bliss.
"Ma'am, visitors request to join you," Melville said simply. A nude
woman brushed past him, a cannikin of bubbly in her hands. Behind her a
man followed, naked a she. They seemed spirited. Gwendolyn
acknowledged their presence with but a nod.
"May we watch?" the woman asked Melanie and David frankly. David
gaped at her, no doubt caring little if the entire world watched, so long as
it did not require him to disgorge himself from Melanie. For her part,
Melanie knew not what to do. Her bliss was overcoming even her will to
resist being put on public display. She could only gaze, half vacantly, at
the woman. There was fear in her eyes, disapproval, yet not the will to
muster resistance. Melanie turned her head away from the intruding
woman and buried it in David's hairy chest. Relieved that he could
continue, David gave a small grunt and, ape like, urged his hips forward,
sinking another quarter inch of himself within her.
"Look, dear, she has had a whip at her bottom," the woman cooed, as
if in sympathy. Melanie felt a sharp tipped nail trace itself lightly over
her scored derriere.
"A crop," the man corrected.
"A what?" the woman asked, still grazing Melanie's bottom with the
tips of her fingers.
"A crop," the man repeated. "A riding crop. A whip leaves slightly
different marks. I shall have to show you some time."
"Why, she must have done it to herself," the woman exclaimed, her
head suddenly bobbing far enough over Melanie's far shoulder to see the
crop she gripped in her left hand.
"Unlikely," the man said, sipping his drink. "Though no doubt since
we have one here I could show you what I mean." Melanie felt male fingers
come to her hand that held the crop. They wrested with her grip on the
implement, gently but firmly.
"Oooh!" Melanie cried, both exclaiming at David's further entry and
protesting the man's contention with her for the crop. In her pleasure she
had not the strength to resist properly. The crop was lifted from her
grasp.
Beyond, out of sight of Melanie, the man put his arm round his
woman's shoulder. She gazed fearfully at the crop, eyes bright. Her naked
titties jiggled, nipples upstanding. The man seated her on a bench
opposite Melanie and David. Balancing the crop and his drink in one hand,
he sipped at his champagne. His other hand rubbed the farther shoulder of
the woman. "Finish your drink," the man said. "I shall show you how the
crop works in a few minutes, after we get to know one another better."
Melanie could not believe her ears. The man and woman had just met!
Yet, for how long had she known David? A few hours, at most. Yet here
she was, unthinking really of the social implications, allowing him to root
himself in her and "Oooh!" her thoughts on morality were interrupted by
another delectable pang of pleasure as he eased up his final inches. Buried
within, he began slowly to ream her. Out he went, giving up the vaginal
territory just won, then back up her once more, as if a rotor rooter man
hosing out a clogged pipe. Was her sheath clogged, by her own inhibitions?
Melanie wondered. Despite her sometimes salacious temperament she had
never let a man take her this quickly. She looked over her shoulder.
Kimberly and Gwendolyn were enmeshed now in each other's arms, as if
trying to melt together. They still sat upright, though, as if unwilling to
give themselves up to the final surrender, that would no doubt lay them
flat upon their backs. Each seemed desperate to press her pussy as deeply
as possible into the pussy of the other. They needed a penis, Melanie
thought. Beyond, out of sight, the man whispered gallant thoughts to the
woman beside him, all the while twitching the crop in his hand. Melanie
could hear his words.
The woman sat sipping her drink, eyes glistening, entranced by the
man yet fearing his intentions. With each little movement her sparkling
nipples wiggled alluringly. She wondered if she should have kept her bra
on as she watched the crop in the man's hands wiggle itchily. Between her
thighs, just below her pubic curls, her labia lips pouted upon the wooden
bench. Her thighs were open, but then she crossed them, sipping her drink
once more.
"Uncross your legs," the man said. The woman looked up at him, as if
surprised, perhaps pleading for him to rescind his words. "Your thighs,
uncross them," the man said again, as to one who cannot hear well. Softly
the woman undid the crossing of her legs. She inched her thighs apart.
The man put his hand to one of her knees and pulled it farther from its
twin. "You must let the steam be absorbed by every part of your body," the
man said by way of explanation. The woman seemed not so bold now,
Melanie thought, glancing backward to catch sight of her as she humped
upon David.
"Your pubic curls are so soft," the man complimented, running his
fingers through the woman's thatch. Melanie looked away. She could
almost guess the other female's thoughts. Delighted with the male's slow
attention, yet wondering what else he planned to lavish his attention on,
and with what.
The woman squirmed her bottom upon the hardness of the bench. She
would feel something much harder upon her posterior soon, she knew, and
she liked not the thought of it. "Kneel up upon the bench," came the man's
words to her ears, quietly, but not brooking contradiction. His drink was
finished. He put the empty glass down on the floor.
The man rose. The woman sat unmoving. Beyond Melanie cried out
her first orgasm, sounding very much like she had when the crop was
brought to her bottom in the storm. Kimberly too moaned out, and
Gwendolyn. The woman watched the prick of the man as he lifted it to the
level of her eyes and gazed down at her, crop in hand. "Get on the bench,"
the man said, and seized her long mane of hair. The woman could not hope
for deliverance any longer. She twisted her face in dismay as roughly, but
not too rough, just enough to ensure compliance, the man made her kneel
upon the bench. "Dip," the man instructed. His hand came to the small of
her back, pressing down.
Melanie rode her stallion with abandon. She lifted her hands and
clapped them over her ears as she heard the woman behind her mew out
final protestations. She did not want to hear the sound she knew must
follow.
CRACK! somehow the sound of the crop penetrated Melanie's ears all
the same. She rode harder, faster, bouncing upon David, as if trying to
exorcise the pain she herself had felt not so long ago under the crop.
Beyond Kimberly, as a child at play, a spoiled child, moaned out her
succulent spendings. David grunted and groaned beneath Melanie, as if
almost protesting her sudden vigor.
CRACK! and CRACK! and CRACK! came the crop, and four more times,
and seemingly countless times after that. Melanie seemed driven by the
sound of the crop. She dropped her hands from her ears and replaced them
on David's shoulders. Harder, and harder she rode, as if each strike of the
crop were driving into her own bottom. She was a horse, a pony, a
beautiful sorrel, and she was being made to work by her master. Work
until she dropped from exhaustion.
Some time later David dismounted a bleary eyed Melanie from her.
The boy seemed haggard, spent, but Melanie cared not. Her little pussy
felt warm and satisfied. Again, so soon after the encounter in the limo.
She felt especially good this time, though, and knew the crop had done it.
Normally such a thing would have frightened her, but somehow, having
taken it earlier herself, it only served to spur her on in this encounter.
Frankly, she thought, she felt better tonight than she ever had with any
other boy. And despite David's loveliness, he was no better than some
others she had had. Melanie knew why her pussy seemed to pulse with
utter satiation. She gazed down at it, touched a finger to the semen
oozing out. The crop, yes, that wicked implement had done it. She looked
up and across at the sobbing woman on the opposite bench. Her bottom
was striped with red. "Your pain," Melanie thought, feeling very wicked.
"Your pain, lady, made my night!"
30
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