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Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
LOVE CHILD
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Chapter Four
We were carried through a door. It was big, heavy, made of sturdy
wood, banded with iron. It slammed shut behind us. The men hauled us
down a flight of stairs into a cold, dimly lit cellar. They put me down,
put down the other girl. I felt the cool flagstones beneath my feet.
They were hard, uncompromising. I was in a princeÕs dungeon. He would
force confessions from me. I would tell all. I would keep nothing from
him. A drop of pee liberated itself from my cunny and plinked upon the
floor.
Our masters stripped everything off us, hastily, as if tearing
down a pair of horses after a long ride. I was afraid. I thought for sure
they intended to rape us. But instead they re-shackled our wrists, and
did the same to our ankles. I felt some relief at this, knowing that they
probably wouldn't go to this extra trouble if they were eager to get
their cocks up us.
We were turned about. Twin girls, our wrists and ankles chained,
completely naked. I saw two cages. They were such as a child might
stand in, but not an adult. They had long slim bars of wrought iron.
Our guards pushed us forward, stuffed us into the cages with the
wrought iron bars, one for each of us. The cages were too small to
stand up in. I crouched, found a velvet cushion to sit upon. It was
sprinkled with rose petals. It had been placed there intentionally, just
for me, for my naked bottom. Amidst the perfume of the petals the
guards left us, still nude and shackled, shivering. I saw a coarse
woolen blanket in the corner of my cell and pulled it up around me.
I was so scared I sat right on my hiney, ignoring the flaming pain
in my tush. As I sat, stunned, for what must have been many minutes,
the stinging in my ass began to be transformed into a kind of deep
warmth. Slowly I started to enjoy the feeling. It was nice, in such a
chilly dungeon. I felt like a naughty mare who had been punished, no
doubt deservedly, by her stern master. He would train me and use my
bottom to teach me lessons I needed to learn. I touched my clit and
shivered. I touched myself again. Swearing silently at myself, I began
to masturbate. Thankfully the other girl began to do the same.
When the general arrived we were both in the throes of self-
inflicted passion. We were swooning in our cages, bursting with
repeated orgasms. Our breasts shook; our legs, bent, opened and closed
like scissors, scissoring thighs, wishing to clamp upon the torso of a
man. He got a cold bucket of water and threw it on each of us, through
the bars, to cool us down. Ashamedly we paid attention to him then,
sitting contritely as he told us of his plans for our young, errant bodies.
He spoke of the army, and how he learned as a soldier in it of the
need for discipline. He said it must be applied fairly but firmly. He
said we were fortunate to have him, for he had served as a boot camp
drill instructor. Once we were trained properly we would not cum at
our own whim, like little girls, but would behave as proper young
women and cum only when our "paramour," as he put it, told us to.
The general ordered a hose brought and we were sprayed with it,
still in our cages, by the same men who had brought us down into this
dank cellar. Like little girls at a pool we screamed, were we happy?
ÒStop screaming, girls!Ó I heard my mother admonish me, in my mind.
Would she mind, now, I wondered? But mommie, big men with big cocks
are spraying me as I sit in my little cage. Then it was a pretend cage,
formed by two chaise lounges. Now it was real. But how real was it?
How captive was I? I seemed very captive, but was I really only
captivated by my own desires? No, surely not. A nice girl like me did
not have desires. Oprah Winfrey could tell you that, any day of the
week on T.V. Teenage girls did not have desires. Certainly not for big
men with big cocks. Maybe for the pimply boy next door, sure, still
waiting for his cock to grow. But never for men. We had chastity belts
locked round our minds. Except, somebody had unlocked mine, I feared.
The menÕs stiff cocks wiggled all about as they vigorously
directed the jet of their hose into every crevice of my body. The
brunette received no less thorough a cleansing. The men then opened
our cages and yanked out our drenched cushions. I thought of trying to
bolt free but the general was standing right there, tapping a leather
riding crop aimlessly against his leg. I remembered my bottom and
thought better of the idea. I didn't necessarily enjoy being imprisoned
like some zoo animal, but my poor hiney absolutely insisted that I not
do anything that would get it into further trouble. Today was not the
day for this little urchin to play Ôchase me,Õ no indeed. New cushions
were placed in our cages. The men closed the wrought-iron doors once
more and locked them. We were each given a battery operated
blowdrier and told to dry off our "lovely hair," by the general, "both on
top of your heads and between your pretty legs. You must expect from
now on to be admired equally in both places." I must confess that by
now, having cooled off from my orgasm, I was much more circumspect
about my prospects at his hands, but I did as I was told.
The general left then, with his well-hung servants right behind
him, their cocks still at attention. The brunette and I gazed after them
with dreamy eyes, admiring their sculpted, compact haunches, which
were as bare as their genitals. When we had dried ourselves we used
the hot air from the blowdriers to keep ourselves warm. The brunette
seemed to be particularly chilly between her legs. Finally I asked her
her name.
"Mandy," she replied, with a Spanish, south-of-the-border drawl.
I told her my name was Barbi but otherwise we did not speak. Despite
her accent her skin was as white as mine. It glowed softly in the dim
light of our dungeon.
We had been alone for about an hour when a woman appeared. She
was blonde, with a haughty demeanor, and dressed in an evening gown.
She held a pony whip in one hand, trifles of silk in the other. I
wondered at them. They were pretty.
"Here, put these on," the blonde said to each of us. She passed a
pair of panties through the bars of each of our cages. "You are to be
seen in polite company," the woman explained. Hunched in my cage I
struggled into my new undies. They were shockingly brief. I couldn't
get them up over the half-way point of my bottom cheeks, wincing as I
strove to pull them higher. They were luxuriously soft, made of some
fine white lace, but my red bottom still burned from the horsey race.
My pussy hairs curled springily, naughtily, out of the so-called
"waistband" of my panties in front, which should more properly have
been called a "pussy-band." The woman then unlocked our cages and
beckoned us out.
Gratefully we stood up and stretched, relishing our new freedom
outside the cages. We were nymphs, fawns. We were free of our trappy
cages, though still captive. The hunter would make pets of us. He
would keep us for our beauty. My chains clinked coldly against my skin.
I felt fresh, alive. I wished to run naked in the snow outside and climb
upon the nearest peak and sit on it.
The woman barked at us and ordered us to stand at attention.
Shiveringly we obeyed. I was lost in myself, lost in my body, young and
pulsing with the heat of my naughty desire. I could feel my young,
weighty breasts upon my chest. My nipples were unbearably stiff.
Between my legs I was aroused again. It was the dungeon, its
chilliness, its certainty. I was still a virgin but I knew I was in
perilous straights. I was at the mercy of a male, virgin for only so long
as he kept me so. He could impale me at the slightest whim. This
woman would take me to him and he would spread me out on his bed and
fuck me.
Our blonde commander surveyed us all about with an examining
eye. I was grateful for my miniscule panties. They kept her from
prying into my special places. I wished for a bra to hide my stiff
nipples from her.
ÒYou have one more piece of attire to put on,Ó the woman intoned.
I felt a wave of relief. A bra! Yes! What else could it be? I would be
restored to as much modesty as I had on any beach. I would be pure
again. I would slip away in my little silken bikini and return to my high
school virginity. I would tease boys again, and be teased by the girls
for holding out. So what? It didnÕt matter now. IÕd been to the
generalÕs, and my hymen had survived. Could they say the same? Could
they say as much? Had they been horseys in a race, little rabbits,
surrounded by wolves with big, bad penises? I would boast that IÕd
bearded the lion and made off with my innocence intact.
To my glum surprise, the woman produced a pair of blindfolds. My
breath caught in my throat, audibly, but I said nothing. I was still
captive. I was still manacled, barely clad. I was still Pauline. I stood
at attention, trying not to shake, as the woman wrapped the fearful
band over my eyes.
Another appeared. I could not see who. A woman, a friend of the
blonde. She put a collar on me, on the brunette beside me. She leashed
us together. Following the click of her footsteps, listening to her
voice, I felt her line up the brunette behind me, position herself in
front of me. She would draw us forward, pulling on a leash that ran
from my collar to her hand. The brunette would stumble after me.
Speaking from behind, I heard our blonde commander. She would follow,
whip in hand. Our obedience was assured.
A walk ensued, just as IÕd predicted. It was made rather difficult
by our shackled hands and feet. Mercifully, the blonde did not insist on
a fast pace. She walked behind us, controlling all, the small pony whip
in her hand flicking the air.
We went upstairs, trod some distance on a soft carpet, and were
finally made to halt. The blonde told us we were back in the chateau's
dining room. Sure enough, as our blindfolds were removed we found
that we were. There was just the general, though, in his uniform, plus
two men, wearing tuxedoes. I guessed that they were his special
guests this evening, invited just to see us. Myself and Mandy, special
treats for their evening meal. The woman whoÕd led us into the room
disappeared. She was not needed, apparently. Only the blonde
remained, our blonde commander, elegant in her evening gown.
The general, sitting composed at the head of the table, bade Mandy
and I to sit. The two men in tuxedos rose and drew back our chairs for
us. I noticed that my chair had an extra cushion on it for my bottom.
Nonetheless I let out a little cry as I sat my poor butt upon it. The men
smiled broadly at each other. Even the woman whoÕd brought us seemed
amused. The three of them sat and the general called out for dinner. It
would be a spaghetti dinner, with meatballs, sauce, and red wine.
Candles were lit. The lights were dimmed.
As the meal was brought forth by servants I began eating as I had
here before, but my status was clearly different now. I was no longer
the casual guest. My wrists were chained together. I could not kick my
feet back and forth like a school girl as I had before. Or, rather, I still
could, but the noise from the chains would be too obvious. It would get
me a scolding. I must eat daintily, quietly, keeping my chains from
clinking as much as possible. This I knew without being told. The meal
was to be decorous, civilized. We were to be polite young ladies, Mandy
and I.
Unlike the others at table Mandy and I were practically nude. I
ate with lowered eyes, accepting for the moment at least my new role
as slave. A love slave, I had no doubt, yet I was still a virgin. I
wondered if the general actually knew. Of course, he had to, that was
why I was here. Yet I felt that I had been chosen somehow, over the
other girls. Myself, and Mandy too. Was she a virgin also? Briefly I
looked up at her. She ate submissively, as I did. Yet, did I sense a
certain pride in her manner? She twirled her spaghetti on her fork and
lifted it to her lips, her soft, full breasts jostling one another as she
moved. All eyes at the table were on us. Proudly I lifted my fork to my
own mouth, feeling my own breasts move as I did. I felt a ripple of
excitement run through me. My nipples, already hard, seemed to stiffen
further. I might have gotten straight A's at school, but that was not
what I was wanted for now. I felt safe and, despite the whining of my
bottom, I was comfortable. I knew the general could and would protect
me from every danger in the world, save those he wished to impose on
me himself. Yet, is that not every girl's fate, to be protected from all
harm except that wrought by her lover's lust? The bloody piercing of
the hymen, the fierce rodding of the cunt, the mouth, the bottom; the
swelling of pregnancy and the pain of birth?
Only the general, the woman, and the two new gentlemen guests
were present at table. I wanted no one else. I did not wish to be seen
like this by everyone, just by the special few, the chosen. The
gentlemen had a satisfied air about them, like two cats admiring
captured canaries. They remarked on my beauty, analyzed my breasts
as if they were fine art, compared them to MandyÕs. The woman too
evaluated our looks, spoke a little jealously perhaps. She was our
chaperone, not to protect our virtue but to divest us of it. How much
more could we be divested, though? Alas, I knew. Had we been but
children, 10-years-old perhaps, or 8, female children, perhaps this
little naked presentation of ourselves would be enough. ÒTheir teats
are budding nicely,Ó the men might say. Or, Òsuch an angelic face, I do
hope she keeps it past puberty.Ó But with older girls, sleek, well-
formed, there would be more. Such men would not permit us to simply
show off our charms. They would have to test them, to mold them
perhaps, to squeeze and feel us...and to stick their things in us.
I glanced at the general. My hair was perfect. Not combed, but
youthfully perfect, carefree. Such men must like it this way, I knew,
hanging down, loose. My eyelashes fluttered, I sucked in a strand of
saucy spaghetti. I felt a droplet of sauce fall to my breast. I lifted my
gourd, my bosom, licked off the sauce directly with my tongue. I looked
at the general as I did it. The men complimented my boldness. But the
general just gazed at me, half-watching, half-not, seeing through me as
much as anything. He seemed ambiguous. Probably, he had entertained
so many young ladies that he was now rather jaded. HeÕd probably spent
in the party room. He was waiting to refill. We would eat and he would
fill his balls and want to come again. At least I hoped so. I felt
emboldened by his diffidence. He would love me above the rest. He
would remember me, though he forgot all the other girls.
I flicked my eyes toward the woman. She seemed spoiled. I
admired her gown out of the corner of my eye. It glittered, moulding
what promised to be an amazing figure. I had little doubt I might see
her naked before the night was out. But--I thought of the lash--would I
be watching her mainly from between my legs, with my head upside
down? Kimber had told me of such things, being strapped to a trestle,
legs apart, blonde hair falling, touching the floor. The tender bottom
your highest point. Your ankles, wrists pinioned. The lash would fall
smartly. It would make me hurt much more than our games in the party
room had. The thought made me tremble and I put it out of my mind.
Again my eyes returned to the general. I must not be too free
with my eyes, I knew. Perhaps I did not want to be. I would be coy. I
kept my glance surreptitious. As I appraised him a sense of recognition
dawned within me. Had I not seen him before? On T.V., perhaps? Those
jowls. That goofy haircut. Was there a hairpiece atop that goofy
haircut? And the gut. He tried to sit straight and tall, but you could
not deny the gut. Omigod! Yes! I realized it now. He was no general.
He was Senator Exon, from America. Down from the Capitol to take his
vacation here. A junket, paid for by taxpayers. Could I be sure? Was it
really him? I looked again, more boldly. He seemed to shift under my
gaze, wish I might look less perceptively. I returned my eyes to my
meal. Yes, it was him. I ate quietly. I dwelt within my thoughts.
Mandy slurped up her spaghetti noisily. ÒEat properly, dear,Ó the woman
scolded her.
Time slipped by. Naked, like little animals, Mandy and I devoured
our meal. We were hungry. The running, crawling on our knees, the
fright, the cages, the whips. The sense of unease, uncertainty, yet
within it all the SenatorÕs hand, guiding us, toying with us. Two weeks
ago I had been but a girl, excited by a log ride. Now I was something
more. I was love, erotic feeling. My bottom was cupidÕs bottom. My
hands played on the bowstrings of the menÕs hearts. Summer pastures,
ripe and lush, were the milk-white wineskins of my breasts. I would
nurture herds of children with them.
After dinner Mandy and I were blindfolded once more. My tummy
was full. I felt slightly tipsy from the wine. My breasts wobbled
nakedly on my chest as they blindfolded me. My hiney felt comfy. I did
not want it to be spanked again.
My chair was removed. I was made to rise. I felt my asscheeks
sticking out on both sides of my panties. They were jammed in my
buttcrack from my sitting. I tried to fix myself in behind, but my hands
were slapped away. I could not reach all the way back anyway. My
wrists drew the chain between them taut against my thighs. But I
could have got my panties out of my cunt, bent, flexed my knees, tried.
ÒWe like you as you are,Ó the woman in the elegant evening gown told
me, Mandy.
With my ass cheeks hanging out, my little panties bunched in my
crack, I was led down what seemed to be a long corridor, Mandy
following. The woman guided us. The men followed. The carpeting
under our feet gave way finally to wood. Eventually, passing into a
room, we were on carpeting once more, especially plush and squishy. I
heard a door close behind us. The woman unwound our blindfolds.
Mandy and I gasped as we took in our surroundings. We were in a
huge master bedroom, with an equally large bed. There could be no
doubt that it was the senatorÕs. The bedcovers were already turned
back. The bed had gleaming brass posts with twin pairs of scarf ties
already looped about them. Next to the bed hung a single black whip,
and beneath it was a nightstand busy with vials of ointment and cream.
A vase held colored condoms, arranged like the spreading petals of a
flower. Mirrors reflected our youthful beauty back at us. Behind us
stood the two men, the senator, and the woman.
"You may remove your panties," the woman intoned. "You won't be
needing them here." I did not know what to say. I guessed a verbal
response was unneeded, unwelcome. A part of me wanted to go ahead,
to get it over with. IÕd teased and been teased. It was time to fuck. I
did not know what to make of the whip. It scared me. Mandy looked
like she might wilt. But, boldly, we both made the same decision. Did
we have a choice? We did not ask for one.
Apprehensively I drew down the wisp of fabric that passed for my
panties. They were so delicate, so chic, I hated to lose them. But they
were in the way, werenÕt they? Of what? I could only hope nothing bad
would happen to me. Looking in the mirror, I saw the men waiting.
They were bulging, down where it counted. The senator too. Ah, he
liked me now, did he?
Of necessity, my wrists still chained, I drew my undies down by
tugging on them in front. As they passed snappily off my bottom I
fearfully clenched my soft cheeks. I looked over my shoulder at the
senator. His eyes were fixed on my ass. The two gentlemen's eyes
seemed pasted to it. In a mirror I saw that the stripes from the horsey
race had faded, leaving my butt mostly white. Twin snowy globes, eyed
by vultures. I did not know what to do. I slid the last morsel of my
modesty down my thighs and stepped out of them, leaving them on the
floor. Mandy did likewise.
"A pretty pair, are they not?" the woman asked the gentlemen
with a toss of her blonde head. For a moment I thought she was
speaking of our discarded panties. Alas, they were forgotten, except by
Mandy and me. The gentlemen eyeballed our asses, nodded.
"Perhaps an enema would help them to sleep?" one of the men
asked hopefully.
"It is still a bit early for sleep," the senator intoned.
"Quarter to midnight," the man replied.
"But they are big girls now," the woman said smilingly. "I'm sure
they're eager to stay up late and play with us adults."
A magical moment ensued then, seemingly timeless, where we
stood simply staring at one another. Mandy and I were raw naked,
trembling deliciously. We exchanged glances. I knew only her first
name, yet I felt sure that before the night was out I would be
intimately acquainted with her privates, forced to lick and titillate
them while she did the same to me. 69, it was called, wasnÕt it? You
go down on me, I go down on you. Each is captive to the other. With our
guardians standing all around us. Indeed it was then that the woman
asked us to show our tongues. Giggling we opened our mouths and stuck
them out, impishly. The men, eager for more than a mere view,
unzipped themselves. In their case I did not even know their names, yet
I was about to be forcibly introduced to their manhood. I hoped they
would prove worthy of the attention I knew I would be required to
lavish upon them.
And they were! Mandy and I gasped as their twin pulsing rods of
flesh sprung from their flies and wiggled temptingly in the open air.
Only the senator remained zippered. A slightly bored grin had settled
on his face. He'd seen all this before, too many times, perhaps. It had
become nothing more than a nightly ritual for him, a Packwood ritual,
yet one he might as well partake of, for lack of any better sport.
"Come girls, I'm sure you will prove most delightful," the woman
said, stepping forward and cupping us by our bottoms. She turned us
around, so that we faced the men directly. Giving us each a gentle
squeeze on our fannies she urged us the few paces forward toward our
suitors. Then, as if not wishing to waste a moment, she lifted her
hands and pressed down upon our tousled heads. We dropped to our
knees upon the floor. Our breasts jiggled. Our mouths opened. We had
only to lean forward slightly to complete the lewd contact. The men,
randy and eager, thrust forward their hips and forced their bristling
members twixt our lips.
My paramour drove himself in a full four inches, hitting the back
of my throat and even driving down it a bit, causing me to choke. The
woman grasped him by his swollen balls and eased him back, letting me
catch my breath. I swirled my tongue around his rod to get the feel of
him. Then I sucked him encouragingly, and he pushed himself in again.
"She is a virgin," the woman whispered to the man, pumping his
testicles in her palm. He started, his cock quivered, he nearly lost
himself, uttering a startled groan. Beside me Mandy was paying
tribute, and her lover nearly lost his load. She looked up at him with an
admonishing glance. I giggled at the misfortune I'd nearly caused. My
man groaned again, practically a torture victim at this point. And it
was his penis which was the focus of such exquisite torture.
Soon both men were properly wettened by our saliva. It was time
for the gentlemen to be oiled, the senator said. ÒSo that you will meet
as little resistance as possible.Ó
ÒDoing what?Ó my suitor asked. His voice was haggard. What
answer did he hope for?
ÒIn a moment both of you must display your manly vigor...up
within my girlsÕ bottoms,Ó the senator said. My breath caught audibly
in my throat. I rose, a bit shakily, a foal newly born. This would be the
last night of my anal virginity. My bottom cheeks tightened at the
prospect. Debbi was right. Our senator was "an ass man." He eyed the
two gentlemen with their finely displayed, hair-trigger cocks. Could
they hold themselves? Both of them were desperate. I guessed they
had not had virgin girls before. Was Mandy virgin? I did not know. She
was my age. The senatorÕs eyes fixed on the gentlemenÕs cocks like an
eagle, eyeing prey. ÒIt will be a tight fit, boys,Ó he said. ÒIÕve been
known to do a Bobbitt on boys who canÕt make the grade.Ó They
shivered. Were they to master me, in my virginity, or was I somehow
to be master of them? I might wiggle, resist, make them cum when
they might not have. Did I hold the key to their continued virility? It
was strange, playing virgin goddess like this. I glanced at Mandy. She
caught my eye. We felt a rush of giddy power. Yes, boys, have your
little virgins, but beware. We might be naughty. The senator might cut
off your offspring if you donÕt please us.
I remained politely receptive. The senator had Mandy and I offer
up our palms. The woman poured oil into our cupped hands and told us
to grease up our stallions. Laughingly we obeyed. Sleek-limbed, naked,
we were graceful, tossing our heads, smiling sweetly. The men with
their hairy chests and tufted groins, cocks sprouting, balls clenching,
stood like soldiers in service to the Queen. They relished our touch at
first. Soon, though, to their astonishment, the oil began to take on a
burning warmth. I could feel it upon my own hands. They protested as
more of the oil was poured into our palms and we were told to apply a
second coat. Chuckling to himself the senator watched. The men
became torn between the pleasure of our ministrations and the
dastardly effect the oil was having on their loins. They gaped down at
their stiff members, eyes wide, confused.
"It burns," Mandy whined, for it was all over her hands as well as
my own. We both drew back our hips a little to avoid spilling any of the
nasty stuff on our own privates. The men, who at dinner had been quite
certain that Mandy and I were there just to be used by them, seemed
shocked. We were their torturesses now. With every loving stroke of
our hands they stiffened all the more, agonizingly, the oil streaking
their cocks with fire. Mentally, IÕd been preparing myself for the fate
of a pet. A slave, nothing more. Used, perhaps abused. A living love
doll. Yet now the refined taste of the senator had exacted a price from
the gentlemen themselves. We were all in this together. No one, it
seemed, would escape without some sacrifice. Mandy and I, our wrists
still shackled, chains clinking, worked our stallions with ever more
enthusiasm.
The woman undressed herself, proving to be as stunning as I'd
imagined. Sumptuous bosoms rose startlingly up from her chest. Above
them her shoulders were waifishly frail. Below them her ribs could be
seen, each one, ready to be counted. Her waist was waspishly thin, but
her hips full and developed, ready to birth as many children as any man
might desire. Long slim legs stretched down to her feet. I stared at
them. They were as small as any Japanese Geisha's. Her toes wiggled
with pent-up enthusiasm. Ten little piggies, going to market, across a
plush carpet. Truly I would not be deprived by having to go to bed with
such a beautiful female. The senator thanked her for undressing and
came round and tapped me on the shoulder. I thought then that I must
be made to pay obeisance to this woman. My eyes showed a little fright
at the prospect. She was gazing at me sternly. She was an Amazon, not
to be crossed. I might play with the men, my Tarzan gentlemen. But
Jane was another matter.
"Anoint her nipples," the senator said to the woman. She poured a
little oil on her fingers. She applied them to my stiff titties.
I cried out, shocked. The oil did not burn yet, indeed her touch
was tantalizingly pleasant, but I knew what soon would follow. I kept
on frigging my lover, my Tarzan-man. His eyes took on a pleased,
vengeful look, even as he still suffered under my oiled touch. ÒWhatÕs
good for the gander is most definitely good for the goose,Ó he muttered.
I bit my lip. Both my nipples glowed with the awful ointment, and
I began to feel an itching upon them. The woman pressed her pussy
against mine. She rubbed my muff with her own. Our curls intertwined.
Our cuntlips sought, each of us indrawing, neither satisfied. It
happened all in a moment. Jiminy Cricket told me to draw back but I
remained fixed in place. She whispered soothing words, baby sounds,
lover's nonsense. I gurgled a half-audible reply, loving her touch as she
worked my nipples like combination knobs on some safe with treasure
inside.
I threw my head back then, as tongues of flame seemed suddenly
to spring from my teats. They were on fire! In my mind I saw them as
they'd been when I was 8, budding churlishly, to the dismay of my
mother. Swelling, puffing, now they seemed consumed by the devil
himself. The woman twisted them now, almost severely, making my
suffering yet worse. The man opposite me, whose cock I still held,
laughed grimly.
"Find her clitty," the senator said.
"No!" I cried, but it was too late for resistance now. My feet
clanked with the chain that ran between them. I lifted first one foot,
then the other, thinking of fleeing, but I could not with such a cumbrous
weight upon my ankles. The woman's hands dove between my legs,
sought my button, found it. Beside me Mandy still stood with her
bottom slightly back, to keep oil from splashing her pussy in front. She
looked over at me with frightened eyes. She gripped her paramourÕs
penis. It was a thick vine. He would use it to swing with her to safety.
"Ooh, yes!" I sighed helplessly. I gaped at the ceiling, the woman.
My eyes roved round the room. My tongue lolled. The woman's
fingertips brushed my aroused clitty. Lightly she fingered it, pouring
more oil on her digits. The ointment was applied ruthlessly, making me
squirm and wriggle. My spot soon burned within. I groaned at my
misfortune. Nothing else was touched save my clit. She was precise,
skillful. Like a girl needing to pee I stomped, danced on the carpet. But
I could not relieve myself, even in the toilet. I was truly in the hands
of a master sadist, a senator who knew tricks beyond the MarquisÕ
fondest imaginings.
The woman moved to Mandy next, who stood like a fawn caught in
the headlights of an oncoming car. Slowly I was able to conquer my
own agony and turn my head to watch her. She shivered, nakedly, a
child in a chilly bathhouse. My lover and I grinned knowingly as Mandy
succumbed to the oil. When the deed was done the woman stepped back
and admired us all. The senator complimented her handiwork.
"Now they know what it means to sprout nipples and cocks in the
house of the senator," he said laughingly. "Such audacity must not go
unpunished."
"May I play also?" the woman asked. Her eyes were wanton. She
loved the game. Her hips weaved a little, seeking.
"Of course. The girls will do you while I have the men present
themselves to me for inspection," the senator said.
Mandy and I were taken from our lovers and the bottle of oil, so
wicked, was given to us. We held it together, sharing it, afraid of the
genie within. I rubbed the bulbous base of the bottle. It had a long
stem, fluted, made of purple glass.
Like Hera, queen of the gods, the woman presented herself to us.
Her full breasts bounced on her chest. She wriggled her bare hips. Her
legs were apart, letting us glimpse her cunny. She offered us a better
view, thrusting forward her fleecy pubis.
She seemed to expect a kiss from us. We each pecked her on the
cheek, then set about doing to her what she'd just done to us. She
squirmed under our touch.
Meanwhile, behind us, the senator announced, "Men, present
cocks!" The men stood stiffly at attention as best they could, given the
fire engulfing their randy penises. The senator strode about them. He
ordered them to drop their pants. I sighed as I saw their haunches come
into view. Mandy looked also, gave a little breathy gasp. Ceaselessly
the men flexed their buns, so terrible was the fire burning along their
shafts. It was a sight to behold, such muscular butts, all ready for
service. Gallantly the men thrust their lances at the senator.
ÒDo you wish to impale me?!Ó the senator cried.
ÒNo, sir!Ó the boys answered, and I knew they were utterly
truthful. Yet the sizzling of their cocks left them no choice but to
repeatedly urge their members upon him.
Mandy and I returned our gaze to our mistress. We cooed
appreciatively as we applied the awful oil to her, knowing what it
would do to her. We tweaked her nipples and complimented her figure.
Like fish on a dock Mandy and I wriggled with our own need, perpetually
burning, our own nipples and clitties afire with the same oil she now so
bravely received. For her part she ran her fingers through our luxuriant
manes. She did not feel the oilÕs sting yet, only its slick wetness. She
was calm, Queen Antoinette before the guillotineÕs fall. I was told I
was wonderfully blonde, and Mandy that she was the perfect brunette.
Indeed we suffered not a bit in comparison to our mistress, for
although younger and skinnier, still growing, we already had a charm
that surpassed our years. And our boobs were glorious, such as any full
grown woman would envy, though our mistress, being older, had bigger
ones.
"Will mine be as big as yours someday?" I asked mischievously of
mistress. As I said it my mind thought of some little boy, perhaps my
lover in younger years, addressing the senator about his cock. Surely
that must have been my motive, to speak in fact of what was going on
between the men. My tits were not all that much smaller than
mistresses'. She sensed my true intent.
"Big enough to squish a nice sized cock between them," Mistress
answered. Mandy and I giggled. Behind us the senator ordered the men
to play with themselves.
"You must remain hard for the night's festivities," he said, "Which
I'm sure you can do but I'll take no chances. True soldiers keep their
weapons presentable at all times, ready for duty. Polish them up,
boys!"
"Yes sir," the men mumbled. They clapped their hands to their
cocks and rubbed them. The senator made them repeat their answer,
and repeat it again, until they shouted it lustily. Mandy and I glanced at
each other, a little worried. The men were getting ready for battle!
Meanwhile Mandy and I had moved to mistresses' clitty. She
swooned. Her nipples felt raw, burny. Below, between her tender
thighs, our hands were causing her to feel the first pangs of the
ointment there.
"Hurry up, girls!" the senator shouted. "These men cannot be kept
waiting forever." We finished up. We left mistress in agony. She stood
sleeking her hands down her thighs and bucking her hips. She dared not
touch herself without the senator's express command. I did not touch
myself either, though I longed to do so, as did Mandy.
It was then that the senator showed himself to be a true
connoisseur of perversion. Mandy and I resumed our posts at our lover's
cocks. We touched them uncertainly. I looked at the general. Was this
it? Was I to get down on all fours now, was the act to be
consummated? He smiled, sensed that I wanted the night prolonged.
Actually, I simply dreaded the loss of my virginity, though I desired it
now, hotly. But in my mind I teetered, Jiminy Cricket on one side,
nature on the other, supplemented by the oil. The senator grinned at
Mandy and I. He bade us desist. We let go of the men. They would have
to wait. I glanced at them. Haggardly they stared back.
ÒSuch eager boys, arenÕt they?Ó the senator asked me.
ÒIÕm sure they can hold on a little longer,Ó I replied. My voice
was sassy. ÒSurely they are picked troops?Ó
ÒPicked on,Ó one of the men groaned.
ÒSilence, men!Ó the senator shouted. Then, with gentle hands, he
took out a key and unshackled us. Mandy and I felt like little children
as he got the iron cuffs off our wrists, our ankles. Grandfather helping
us down from a pony, or out of our snow boots. Stepping from the irons
I brushed my hair from my eyes. My belly felt suddenly empty, despite
my dinner. Did I want the shackles? I did not know. Delicately I drew
my toes from them. They lay like broken promises on the floor. I
stretched, trying to enjoy my newfound freedom.
ÒBe good, now, or I will replace those with little shackles...on
your nipples,Ó the senator told me. I nodded. My eyes were wide.
The senator beckoned mistress from where she stood, dancing
like a snake, cherishing her torment. Her sexual parts were afire. She
could think of nothing else. None of us could. We were just our nipples,
our clits. The men were reduced to their penises. All thoughts amongst
us four naked jaybirds centered entirely on our ÒprivateÓ parts. But the
senator had more games in mind.
He had mistress call on the phone for a servant. It turned out to
be a middle-aged woman. I felt terribly embarrassed when she opened
the bedroom door. Here I was, buck naked, oiled, and obviously aroused,
a love slave in attendance on Senator Exon. But the womanÕs eyes
passed over me as smoothly as those of a librarian, monitoring properly
behaved children busy with homework. She had seen girls like me
before. We came, we left. The senator stayed, or flew back to
Washington perhaps, only to return for a new round of parties. And
girls. The senator ordered the woman to bring furs. The servant must
have known what he meant, for I certainly did not.
A rack of clothing was wheeled in by the woman a few minutes
later. Senator Exon ordered us to dress. I thought at first, with a kind
of sinking relief, that we all must be going home. My clit was on fire.
Although I would accept an offer to leave, I knew my body didn't want
to.
The clothing brought for us was all made of soft animal skins,
trimmed with fur. Mistress smiled, realizing the senatorÕs plans. I
guessed they did not involve chastity. She was not a woman who
favored leaving cocks stiff and unspent, though she might play with
them awhile, testing their virility. And, I thought, she was not one to
leave frisky girls unhappy either. So it was with a sense of deep, awed
curiosity that I obeyed the senatorÕs orders to dress. Mandy too was
cowed, tantalized. We tugged on fur boots that came halfway up our
thighs, and long-sleeved fur jackets. But the jackets could only be
buttoned over our tummies, leaving our titties sticking lewdly out, bare
as ever. And while the jackets cinched themselves tightly about our
waists when closed, almost like corsets, they left our bottoms and
pussies totally exposed. They were too short to cover us where it
counted, down below, and too meagre to contain our breasts. What good
were these jackets, I wondered? At least mine kept my back warm.
But I had long hair. I wasnÕt worried about my back. My bare bottom,
though, could have used some warmth, or at least some protection.
Little fur caps and earmuffs completed our ensemble. There was
nothing more to put on. No skirts, no panties, no bras. The men put on
leather boots and leather jackets, after first removing their shirts and
ties. They too were left with bottoms bare and loins fully exposed.
Finally they put on earmuffs. The senator said we were going outside
then, "to enjoy the air," and brought a riding crop with him.
Ah, how crisp and delicious the air outside was, though my
bottom instantly got goose pimples. We drew in long breaths, exhaled
them.
ÒLook, IÕm smoking!Ó Mandy cried, delighted. She tried to make
smoke rings with her lips. Mistress bent and made a snowball and
tossed it at the senator. He ordered us to form up then, just as we'd
been inside, except mistress took my place. The two soldier-boys
faced off against Mandy and mistress. Across a space of a few inches
the two genders stared at each other, the boys rudely sticking their
cocks out, the girls admiring, their pussies hungry, not minding the
display.
Senator Exon drew me aside and gave me four black blindfolds. He
told me to bind them over the eyes of our friends. Mistress, meanwhile,
produced the bottle of horrid ointment from a pocket in her jacket. It
had not been left inside, alas. She said to the men that they must have
yet another coating. The men flinched at this, but Senator Exon ordered
them to behave. Mandy, cupping her hands, received her share of the oil
from mistress. Together they began once more to lave the prized
members with the insufferable ointment.
I set about blindfolding the four as soon as mistress and Mandy
were busy applying the lotion. They did not need their eyes anymore.
They could feel where the menÕs cocks were. When I'd finished, Senator
Exon handed me his riding crop.
"While their loins are warm, especially the menÕs, their bottoms
are cold. Apply a little heat to them,Ó he said solicitously of our
friends. ÒBut don't hit them in any regular order. Let them be
surprised." I smiled. How wicked of him! With trembling hands I took
the crop, not really wanting it, yet mesmerized at the thought of
hitting the men right on their butts, their lovely butts, even as
mistress and Mandy tormented their throbbing, aching cocks. And, of
course, mistress and Mandy must not be spared, the senator assured me,
for their burning nipples and clits must enjoy the complimentary
warmth of the crop as well.
With a determined look on my face I set about sizing up my
intended targets. I felt a sense of newfound power. I was a child with
a brand new squirt gun, eyeing my older sisters. Mistress' bottom was
full and firm, a juicy target indeed. She wiggled it slightly in
anticipation, yet I knew she must dread it as much as she wanted it.
Ah, little Mandy, how I yearned to sting her ass, so trim and saucy, just
like my own. How dare she compete with me for the attention of the
men, flaunting her ass all about. No doubt she hoped to lure both men's
big cocks up her fore and aft, leaving me with nothing. My mind made
up allegations, just to punish them. I did not need proof. I had the crop.
They had only their naked bottoms. It was then I drew back the crop
and struck, but found I'd hit only very lightly, for I was totally new to
this game.
"Harder," the senator said. "Or I shall put you in mistress' place
and have her hit you doubly hard." With this encouragement, as it were,
I assumed a more serious demeanor. Certainly I didn't want any more
stripes on my bottom than I'd already had earlier this evening. Poor
Mandy, she must be made to suffer once more. I drew back the crop,
stood poised for a moment, my breasts displayed to the senator's
watchful eye, heaving their heaviness as I fearfully let my breath out,
drew it in.
WHACK! Mandy squealed, gyrated her hips helplessly. A bright red
streak appeared across her pretty ass.
"Very good," the senator said, even as the blindfolded Mandy
wailed out a protest.
"Oooh! Not so hard, please!" I left her then, my heart beating hard
as I contemplated doing the same to the gorgeous haunches of the men.
To see them work their hips under the searing pain I would inflict, just
the thought made me flush. I felt warm, yet I was outside in freezing
snow.
The morningÕs blizzard had stopped, leaving only a few flakes to
occasionally drift down. The moon caught them as they drifted. They
settled on our exposed skin, providing a moment's relief to those areas
so wickedly heated. Not just by my crop, but by the dastardly oil too.
The men prayed for snow to settle on their cocks, but the girls rubbed
just as quickly, eager to cool their hands. I felt a snowflake fall on my
nipple. I savored it. It was cool, icy. Welcome relief. I wanted to dive
into the snow, grab handfuls of it and shove it up my twat. But I was
well-behaved. We were all well-behaved. And well punished, too. The
senator played our bodies like harp strings, never touching us. Only
words, only words. Yet we obeyed him, doing horrid things to each
other. Would he have forced us to? Would he have punished us with the
crop himself, if weÕd refused? I did not know. I was having too much
fun with my riding crop!
I strutted from person to person, lifting my boots high, dealing
out sizzling blows with my crop. Angie Dickinson had nothing on me.
Linda Hamilton, Signourney Weaver, all amateurs. I was Miss Bitch, the
Ice Princess, and these were my shuddering slaves. Beautiful,
trembling, all nude for me where it mattered, suffering royally. I gave
each one of them something to think about, something to remember me
by. I prayed none of them would have the opportunity to repay me. The
senator surveyed all, bidding me to hit harder when my stroke faltered.
I obeyed as faithfully as I could. I did not want to be made to stand in
mistress' place. Her bottom began to take on the appearance of a road
map, though few of the stripes were more than pinkish lines, soon to
fade.
In their extremity the two couples began to kiss. The women
worked the men harder as their mouths joined with them and meshed. I
wondered if I was but spurring them, complimenting their ardor.
Certainly, though I might be flaying them alive in my mind, I was too
weak-wristed to give them absolute punishment. Instead they were
just getting what they wanted, needed. Cold...heat...an extra Ôkick in the
pantsÕ to startle them to peaks of arousal. Blindfolded, only able to
grope, their senses were heightened further. Only the girls could touch.
The men had to stand stiffly, though they bent to kiss, but nothing
more. The senator warned the men that they were on duty. Like White
House Marines, they could not turn, or reach out. They were ornamental
only. They must endure the teasing of the females. Little girls asking
curious questions, prodding perhaps, poking. Unzipping a zipper. Did
Chelsea ever unzip a marine? ÒExcuse me, sir, but your fly is up.Ó
Would that break his concentration? His single-minded devotion to
duty? ÒExcuse me, sir, but when do you pee? No matter, IÕll help you.
Just let me get your thing out. You can pee in my purse, no one will
notice. Your commander will think you have an excellent bladder. HeÕll
give you another medal.Ó
I admired the four of them. Trembling, they skittered from peak
to peak of passion, always so close, the men closer, but the women not
too far away, though they lacked the tactile attention the men got. I
know the men would gladly have traded places. But it is the manÕs lot
to be teased sometimes. So strong, you men are, well now you can
prove it. But the females, flexing their thighs, endured their own
private agony. They wished to be fucked, had the means in their hands,
yet the senator would not let them. Not yet. They must play the game
out, and they wished to. Little Mandy, virginal, unsure. And mistress,
loving every second of the awful game. She could find no other like it, I
guessed. The senator was a master at it. He held us captive. We
obeyed his commands. We were among strangers, each of us, the men
nameless, we girls only known by our first names. All our most
precious, most private parts were exposed to pillage, to plunder. There
was the tenseness of the unknown. It hung in the air like the northern
lights. The senator had threatened to Bobbittize the men. Mandy and I
had been shackled. I gazed at them, their skin white, bared to me.
Their silly costumes covered nothing. They were kept warm enough, I
suppose, but how ridiculously! To wear clothes that left your bottom
bare? What sort of attire was that? With schoolmarmish indignity I
swept the crop in again, slashing their reddened bottoms, loving their
squirming response. The black night enclosed us. Snow-filtered
moonlight made our skin glow.
The flakes came down heavier, faster. They powdered my breasts.
They sprinkled themselves nicely across the curved upper portions of
my victimsÕ fannies. All four were moaning now, the men on the brink
of orgasm and the women wishing they could be. The senator told the
men that they could caress the women's breasts. They responded
eagerly. ÒMomma!Ó one man breathed, though his hands actually found
little MandyÕs breasts. Perhaps he lusted for the Virgin Mary. Mandy
and mistress cried out at the new attention, grateful for it. I watched,
amazed, stunned that the men could hold themselves in for this long.
They were quite a pair of troopers. I longed to give them relief.
"Ah, to suffer so gloriously, so valiantly," the senator said. "I am
indeed impressed." We all looked at him hopefully, the men tearing
their mouths from the women, looking like beggars starving before a
feast. "Yes, you have all earned your keep this evening, including you,
dear Barbi." He had me take off their blindfolds. They stood like sheep,
the girls holding the men by their cocks, the men grasping Mandy and
mistressesÕ breasts. Senator Exon led us inside then, each of the
females leading her man by his prick, while I contented myself with
holding hands with Senator Exon. He felt large and manly beside me,
imposing, sure of his every move while I trembled under the scourge of
the oil and my own arousal.
The bed waited. Gratefully we tumbled into it. We drew the cool
sheets up around us. The senator watched, seemingly only half-
interested, retreating to a chair and lighting a cigar. He had not told us
we could hop in bed, yet we seemed to know it instinctively. We had
shorn ourselves of all our clothing as quickly as if we were naughty
children. We rolled and groped and sought each other's bodies as if
possessed of some fever. Hotly we clasped each other's most intimate
parts, held them tightly, rubbed them, sought to impale and be impaled
by them.
I lurched at the first knocking of a cock upon my cunt. Quickly I
spread my legs, opening myself up as wide as I could for his entry. Who
it was I did not care, so long as he was quick. He grasped my thighs and
found his purchase, lodging his head sweetly twixt my clenching lips.
My girlish tightness, my skittishness, only encouraged him. Suddenly
his flaming rod was breaking through and I was lost, saved, both at
once. Deeper he plunged and I heard Mandy cry out even as her own cunt
was violated. Amidst the swirl of teasing tongues and clutching
fingers mistress played the ringleader, ensuring that both Mandy and I
got fucked just as Senator Exon intended, firmly and without pity or
remorse. I cried as the lance thrust up within me, opening me,
bloodying me. Mandy too proved to be virgin, and suffered her own
sweet demise at the hands of her lover. Nameless they took us then,
humping us fiercely, riding us like the stallions they had proved
themselves to be. At last I swooned in a pure bliss of emotion, passing
out as the world seemed to spin out from under me.
When I awoke I found myself nestled in the crook of mistress'
arm, her fingers idly straightening my blonde locks. Mandy was on her
other side, where mistress tried a similar feat with her pubic hair, the
springy curls of that private place proving much less receptive.
Mistress brushed my hair from my eyes and asked me if I'd
enjoyed my first fuck. I lisped something in response, a babyish gurgle.
The men were in the bathroom, I heard then, peeing lustily into the
toilet. I looked over my shoulder and saw the senator watching all,
satisfied, smoking his elegant cheroot. A wreath of smoke curled round
his head, making him look not unlike Santa Claus. I had just received
my first present from him.
"Well girls, now that you're unwrapped, so to speak, I think
perhaps we should consider spending the next several days trying out
your new talents, hmmm?" the senator asked. I took the question to be
rhetorical, as did Mandy. We would no doubt stay just as long as he
wanted us to, no longer, and no shorter either. "In any event I imagine
your cunts are going to be on fire soon from those oiled cocks unless
you get yourselves into the bidet," he laughed. It was then that I began
to feel a burning sensation all the way up my vagina, right into my
uterus.
"Yeek!" Mandy cried, and I leapt up along with her. We scrambled
off the bed and raced toward the bathroom. Behind us mistress and the
senator laughed, eyeing our hastily retreating bottoms. "Make way!
Make way!" we cried upon seeing the men, who seemed to hope that we
were running into the bathroom to have them fuck us again. We found
the bidet and awkwardly plopped down together on it. With manly
generosity the two lovers who had put us in our present state helped us
get the spray nozzle going. They directed it with loving care into our
cunts, spraying us deeply as we twisted and gyrated under the jet.
Gradually we were soothed, and finally we arose from the ceramic
potty, brushing back our hair like schoolgirls done with our homework.
The men were hard again. Mandy suggested we let them complete our
denouement, so we turned and bent forward, clasping our knees and
presenting our bottoms to them. Happily they oiled themselves up (this
time with an ordinary lotion) and, with encouraging sighs and
breathless grunts from us, they forced their way up our hineys.
I felt as if all the air were being driven from me as my lover
worked at opening my backside with his rod. "Oooh, no, maybe I
shouldn't, you're too big," I breathed, but this only made him spread my
cheeks wider with his gripping hands and drive his cock forward more
eagerly. Mandy too expressed second thoughts, which only encouraged
her lover.
Moaning and gasping, trying to pull our bodies forward even as the
men yanked our bottoms backward, we suffered the penile assault.
Mistress and the senator came to the door of the bathroom and watched
with contented eyes. I puffed and shuddered, my heavy breasts
swinging beneath me with every in-driving thrust from my lover.
Mandy's titties swung like ripened fruit; together we must have looked
quite the pair for anyone with a passion for hooters. When the men
jetted at last, we both got the enemas of a lifetime. Their balls
seemed not to have suffered the least depletion from their forays up
our cunts. Drippingly they finally withdrew themselves, and after a
round of kisses between us they left Mandy and I to clean out our asses
upon the bidet.
30
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