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Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
NUDIE NURSERY
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Chapter Four
ÒWake up, you sleepyheads! You have visitors!Ó I heard somewhere
beyond the clouds of my dreams. My mother, I thought. And then I realized
that there must be two of us, me and somebody else, and for a moment I
lay there wondering, with eyes closed, why on Earth IÕd decided to actually
sleep over at my friendÕs house? I mean, I used her as an excuse. Her face
was full of zits and she wore hornrimmed glasses and her knowledge of
boys centered exclusively around an (ever growing) collection of issues of
Tiger Beat.
I felt a nipple nudge me. Her breasts were not that plump. And then,
quite suddenly, as a half-dried, half-licked sticky lollipop plopped against
my cheek, I realized that I was not at home at all, or even in L.A., but in
Caracas!
A sweet tropical air wafted in through the door as it stood open
beyond the figure of Jasmine. She wore a simple t-shirt, much-scissored,
and cutoffs. She appeared to be absolutely blooming, as if sheÕd spent the
night being nourished on menÕs sperm. And, rubbing my eyes, I realized
sheÕd been doing just that, and with my Brent no less! I gazed at her firm,
tanned legs, breathtakingly long, mounted on jelly heels to loft her bottom
even higher than nature itself already had. Her bosoms thrust themselves
at me as if they were twin zeppelins launching into the warm summer air.
She tossed her head. She put her hands on her hips to let us know that,
much as we might hate her, she was very much in charge. Within the
curling fingers of one hand she held a no-nonsense riding crop. She
slapped it lightly against her thigh. I felt like I was a girl at boarding
school and realized, to my heartbeating surprise, that I may as well be,
given how little freedom I had. Except this school omitted the three RÕs in
favor of the three SÕs: sucking, spanking, and submitting.
Three rowdy young males in their twenties sauntered into our
bedchamber behind Jasmine. I recognized none of them. Two had crewcuts
and the third sported hair to his shoulders. They looked like American
Football players. But they behaved like farmers at a cattle auction.
Jasmine yanked down the bedcover and exposed myself and Missy.
ÒSee? They are lovely creatures, donÕt you think?Ó Jasmine asked
her guests.
ÒMite young, eh?Ó one male said to his buddy.
ÒTits are nice, long legs, roll over, girls!Ó his friend replied. Missy
and I stared wide-eyed at them. We found each other on the sheet and
hugged each other for safety.
Jasmine struck our denuded sheet with her crop. ÒDo as youÕre told,
girls!Ó she shouted. Missy and I flopped over on our bellies and showed
them our bottoms.
ÒWho marked them?Ó the intellectual one, in the middle, whoÕd
analyzed our breasts and limbs for us, asked. He was the one with long
hair.
ÒI did, last night,Ó Jasmine replied. ÒThey are being trained.Ó
ÒYou provide this... this service... it is included?Ó the intellectual
asked.
ÒIf you wish. It is customary,Ó Jasmine replied. ÒYour girlfriend
would be put in this room, or one of the other two. They share a communal
bath in the center.Ó
Olaf strode in from the bathroom and Jasmine introduced him. ÒThis
is Olaf, and you might be able to meet David, if heÕs not busy with Sally.
She requires extra attention. Olaf is gay, so you neednÕt worry about him
guarding your girlfriend. David is sterner but not gay. I usually put the
little ones, like these two, with Olaf.Ó Missy and I looked at each other
and then hid our faces back in our pillows. I was all too aware of my hiney
sticking up behind me. There was nothing to save me if Jasmine chose to
strike. I gripped the corners of my pillow with my fingers. I wanted
desperately to reach back and cup my bottom in my palms, but weÕd been
flipped over to show our tushies, not hide them. I was learning. Later I
wondered if I might have gotten away with lifting up my heels, hiding
myself a little with my legs, but at the time I didnÕt think of it.
ÒI will have my girlfriend brought, then,Ó the intellectual told
Jasmine. ÒThese two, they look ripe for fucking. You wouldnÕt mind if I
hop on the bed and do them, would you?Ó I froze as I heard his zipper
unzip.
Jasmine sauntered over to him and clasped his zipper between his
fingers. Sneaking a peek over her shoulder, Missy told me that it looked
like she was going (to her, at least) to pull out his cock, but instead
Jasmine zipped him back up.
ÒYou must understand that they are the property of another,Ó
Jasmine told our intellectual friend. ÒJust as I will protect your
girlfriend, so I must protect them.Ó
ÒI will gladly pay,Ó the intellectual footballer said, reaching into his
pocket. Mindy whispered to me what was happening as she stole her peeks.
ÒNot now, but IÕll let you warm up with them,Ó Jasmine smiled.
ÒThere are, let me see, why there are three chairs here! Sit down, boys,
and go ahead and unzip yourselves. Play with yourselves freely, but try
not to shoot! If you can hold yourselves in IÕll finish you off when IÕm done
with these two!Ó
ÒNow thatÕs a bargain!Ó the two crew-cut footballers agreed, though
Missy thought the intellectual one might have been a bit miffed. The three
of them swaggered to chairs arranged across from our bed and plopped
down and undid their pants. Out, like three big bananas, came their cocks.
At once, with sly glances at each other, they began jacking themselves.
ÒMissy! Kelly! You two are quite fortunate; you especially, Kelly.
YouÕve won a reprieve from your morning spankings. Get up! No spankings!
Brent wants to take you both out and he wants you to be able to sit down.Ó
Jasmine clapped her hands and Missy and I flipped back onto our bottoms,
both of us wincing a little as we bounced them on the soft sheet of the
bed. I could still feel the marks sheÕd given me. Jasmine smiled as she
saw me feel them. They were like dull streaks of fire across my heinie.
Jasmine took my hand and pulled me from my bed. Missy, like a kid sister,
hopped out of bed behind me.
ÒFirst we must measure you,Ó Jasmine told us. ÒOver there! Both of
you, against the wall! LetÕs see how tall you are!Ó I noticed a Sesame
Street measuring tape, a foot broad, running up the side of the bedroom
wall. It was behind the door and Jasmine marched both Missy and I over to
it. I had to step over the stretched out legs of one of the footballers to
reach the tape. I think he reached out to pinch my naked fanny but Jasmine
sluiced her whip down between his reaching fingers and my bulbing ass,
protecting me from his touch.
I backup up to a Smiling picture of Big Bird. Amidst his yellow
feathers the tape measure ran. He smiled, gaily, holding up the measurer.
Jasmine put her crop flat against the top of my head and announced my
height. Then she did the same to Missy.
ÒUp with your arms, girls, I must measure your busts,Ó Jasmine said.
She produced a small rolled tape measure from her jeans pocket, made of
soft cloth. She had me stand out a little from the wall and she wrapped
the tape right round my nipples, indenting them. She did my hips next,
then measured me from my pubic thatch to my neck. She did the same
with Missy. All the while our three male visitors played with their big
pricks, watching. Jasmine bent and measured my feet. Her jeans rode up
her hips in back and showed the men the undercheeks of her bottom.
ÒGod, what an ass! I get first dibs on plunging into that!Ó one of the
crewcut lads proclaimed. Jasmine just smiled, and went on to measure
MissyÕs feet. We both had small feet. The Chinese would have liked them.
ÒAlright, girls! Just a little more trimming and your coats should be
ready. BrentÕs bought you both new fur coats to make you feel special.Ó
She smiled at me. Did I have two fur coats now? ÒBut remember,
whatever youÕre given here is for his pleasure, girls,Ó Jasmine continued.
ÒDonÕt think the furs are yours, even if theyÕre specially made. You are
both little toys, and he owns you, and he owns the clothes on your back,
too. So enjoy them, but donÕt treasure them. HeÕll buy you some very nice
things when you both get sent home, if youÕve made him happy.Ó There was
a look in her eyes of warning, and promise. She tossed her lovely dark hair
and smiled a possessive smile.
ÒDo we HAVE to dress in front of those three lugs?Ó Missy declared.
She was as eager to get into clothes as I.
ÒGirls, you should know I am the absolute feminist,Ó Jasmine said.
She put a hand to MissyÕs hair and brushed it with her fingers. ÒBut there
is a time to control, and there is a time to be controlled. And,Ó she added,
conspiratorially, Òthere is even such a thing as controlling by submitting,
and by being beautiful. Do boys like you, Missy?Ó
ÒOf course,Ó Missy said scornfully. She tossed her hair and seemed
not to wish to have Jasmine attend to it.
ÒAnd they would kill each other to have you, wouldnÕt they?Ó
Jasmine asked. Missy looked at her, guessed at her meaning, and smiled.
ÒAnd all you need do is look beautiful, hmmm?Ó Jasmine reached out and
made Missy let her brush at her hair.
ÒWell,Ó Missy looked down at her toes. I looked down at mine and I
watched as hers curled up under her feet and I copied her. MissyÕs breath
exhaled and her tummy protruded a moment, as if she were but a sweet
teddy bear.
ÒHere you exist for the pleasure of men,Ó Jasmine said to us both.
She put a hand under MissyÕs chin and lifted her eyes so that she was
forced to look up at her. ÒNo complaining, sweet dear. I will protect you
from men, as I see fit. Otherwise, you are to not worry the least about
them. If they wish to gawk, let them! They are twice your age.Ó
Missy pulled her chin away from JasmineÕs fingers and gazed at our
three paramours. ÒI donÕt like them,Ó she sniffed. ÒTwo have hair thatÕs
too short, and one has hair thatÕs too long. And as for their... THINGIES...
well, theyÕre nice I guess, but IÕm not in the mood this morning!Ó Missy
stomped out past Jasmine, past the men, and over to my vanity. She found
her lollipop on my pillow and plucked it from the bed. Standing in front of
the vanityÕs mirror, sucking her lollipop, she brushed back her hair with
her hand. Her heinie, bare as the day she was born, tensed and released,
then tensed again.
ÒThat girl is just begging to be spanked!Ó Jasmine said to herself,
aloud, under her breath. I brushed back my own hair and followed her,
much more modestly, back across the room to where Missy stood.
Jasmine made us both stand facing the mirror. She palmed our
bottoms. We were glorious as newborns, but she was past pampering us.
ÒMissy, you will do just as I say, or I swear youÕll stay behind and not get
to go out with Brent and Kelly. YouÕll be spanked until you canÕt sit, and
then youÕll be made to clean all the bathroom floor in my house with a
sponge in your mouth. And, just in case you think thatÕs fun, IÕll have
these three Ôlugs,Õ as you call them, pee on the floors for you!Ó
I put my hands to my mouth and failed to suppress a giggle. I donÕt
know what Missy thought of all that, but I guess she decided being laughed
at by me was more than she wished to bear.
ÒOkay,Ó Missy said, but kept on licking her lollipop as she spoke, as
if to muffle her consent so it could barely be heard.
Jasmine slapped MissyÕs bottom. The girl stood up on her tippy-toes.
Her fanny was still sore from last night.
ÒOwoooh!Ó Missy keened. Ruefully she reached back and rubbed her
bottom.
ÒYes, little one, you are going to be sexually trained,Ó Jasmine said
to her. ÒYouÕre too big to just be spanked like a bad girl. IÕm giving you to
Brent and I expect you to be on your best behavior. YouÕll be a woman when
you leave here. Your parents wonÕt know what to think!Ó
I realized, standing there in the all together, that I had to go to the
bathroom. I put my hands to my pussy, discreetly. It had been so amazing,
waking up to the sight of three athletic men in my room, IÕd not even
thought of my bladder!
Jasmine saw my hands in the mirror. She laughed. She looked down
at me and I, with a self-conscious wriggle of my bottom, looked up at her.
ÒGentlemen, youÕre about to see two little girls pee!Ó Jasmine called out.
She looked over her shoulder at our guests. I blushed. My fingers fidgeted
in my nest. MissyÕs cheeks colored. She had to go just as I did.
We peed for them in the bathroom. Missy managed to slip in ahead of
me and I had to wait while she peed. She pretended like she had to do
number two also, but Jasmine yanked her up from the toilet. I went next,
the men watching. They were intrigued. YouÕd have thought they were
watching sports.
Jasmine had Missy and I take a quick dip in the tub. Then we put on
new makeup, and brushed out our hair. The men watched, rubbing
themselves. One of them almost came as I bent forward to put on some
lipstick.
Back in the bedroom, Jasmine had a new surprise for us. She handed
Missy and I each a teensy pile of string.
ÒPut these on,Ó Jasmine told us.
ÒWhat are they?Ó Missy asked.
ÒBikinis, silly,Ó I guessed. They were even smaller than the ones
Sherry and I had worn.
Missy untangled her bikini and stared at it. ÒI canÕt tell which is the
top and which is the bottom!Ó she said. And, looking at mine, I could see I
had the same problem. There were two tiny pieces of fabric for the bra
cups, and two tiny pieces of fabric for the front and back of our panties.
ÒThis half looks like the panties to me, try it on!Ó Jasmine told
Missy. She pointed to me which half I should try first. I put the bra on the
vanity and slipped the bikini panties around my waist. Pulling them
through my crotch, I realized to my horror that nothing but string went
through my labial lips.
ÒThis must be the bra!Ó I said hopefully. But a glance at Jasmine
told me it wasnÕt so. These were, indeed, the panties. A miniscule
triangle of fabric hoped (vainly) to cover my pubic delta. My tail,
meanwhile, had a little vee of fabric centered at the base of my bottom
cheeks. It hid perhaps an inch of my bottomcrack. The rest of me was left
bare.
ÒIÕm afraid Brent picked out bedroom bikinis for you girls to wear to
brunch with him,Ó Jasmine smiled at Missy and me. We stood half in and
mostly out of our bikinis, staring at her, holding the string of our undies
in our hands and wondering whether there was any point in even tying
them on. Jasmine assured us that we did, indeed, have to tie ourselves
into them. The men watched Missy and I as we struggled with the loose
bits of string. Finally, after much suffering, we managed to get all suited
up in both our nothing undies and our postage stamp bras.
I looked at myself in the vanity mirror. A string as thin as spaghetti
crossed over the mounds of my breasts. Where my two nipples protruded,
two small cups, made of felt-like fabric, attempted to keep me modest.
As I stared at myself my nipples perked up and the twin little cups rose up
like tiny peaked mountains. They bared my areolas, leaving nothing but the
tips of my nipples themselves covered! Down below my belly, meanwhile,
my pubic thatch showed itself as naturally as if I were naked. Somewhere
down where my legs met, a small bit of fabric showed. Spaghetti
drawstrings crossing my waistline dipped down to the pouch. But it was
so insubstantial as to only offer itself as a decoration. Beyond, between
my squeezing thighs, I had nothing but a string running through my cunt
lips. And then, where the cheeks of my bottom tensed together, there was
another useless bit of fabric. It was a little V-shaped morsel, more an
embarrassment than anything else, and it offered, quite pointlessly, to
cover the lowest bit of my asscrack.
ÒDid these shrink in the drier?Ó I asked Jasmine. She smiled.
ÒYou wouldnÕt want to get your bikini wet,Ó she assured me. ÒItÕs
made of cashmere and it would just come apart. Try not to, well...Ó she
smiled conspiratorially. ÒDonÕt get too excited!Ó
I stepped back from the mirror and adjusted the cups of my bra.
Even though the cups were the tiniest morsels of fabric imaginable, they
still worked like any other bikini cups, having string running through their
undersides. I had to tug on them to get them centered just right over what
little of me they covered. Whenever I moved, they seemed to move too. I
reached back and untied my top and then retied it, more tightly. Hopefully
that would hold them.
ÒWah! This wonÕt stay on!Ó Missy lamented. She was finding her
bikini as frustrating to wear as I was mine. Jasmine retied her top and
bottom for her. I did my bottoms up again and then, turning to walk to the
bathroom to get a hairbrush I liked, I felt a shivery tingle run up inside
me.
ÒOoooh! This soft little string rubs me right on my clitty!Ó I
exclaimed. I suppose, with men in the room, I shouldnÕt have been quite so
descriptive, but the feeling the string made just caused me to blurt it
right out.
Jasmine laughed. Missy, who was having her bottoms tied up, took a
step, experimentally, and felt the same sensation.
ÒHmmm, it must be a design flaw,Ó Jasmine said. I glared at her.
ÒDonÕt tell me they forgot to put in the crotch of our undies by
accident!Ó I said. Missy took another step. Jasmine clapped a hand to her
belly and made her hold still.
ÒWe should go hiking in these,Ó Missy said to me.
ÒYeah, right.Ó I replied. I wasnÕt too keen on having an orgasm with
every step but she seemed to like it. When Jasmine had finished tying her
up she tugged on her bottoms to make them fit into her as snugly as
possible.
ÒOooh, these are so naughty,Ó Missy said admiringly. She pranced
around the room, emitting little gasps with every step. ÒAre we going to
an orgy?Ó she asked. I think she was somehow supposing we were
dressing for breakfast in the East Wing of the building.
ÒWhy no, dear. YouÕre going OUT for brunch,Ó Jasmine smiled. ÒOut
in public.Ó
Missy frowned and looked at Jasmine. ÒNobody is going to let us into
their restaurant dressed in these,Ó she said. Even little Missy wasnÕt
naive enough to be fooled about that, her face seemed to say, as she
knitted her brows. Her tummy popped out again, teddy-bear like. She still
looked skinny even when she stuck out her tummy. Her navel twinkled.
With her hips thrust forward and her sighing tummy sticking out, she
seemed even younger than she was. She put her thumb in her mouth,
contemplatively.
I guessed the answer. ÒThe furs,Ó I said.
ÒThatÕs right. I should call over with your measurements,Ó Jasmine
said. She walked over to one of the men and asked to borrow his portable
phone. He gave it to her, and she dialed somebody in the other wing. She
reported our measurements as Missy and I took little steps in our bikinis,
testing them, letting them rub us, watching our bra cups to make sure they
didnÕt slip off our nipples.
ÒI like white,Ó Missy said, looking in the mirror at her bikini.
ÒYour bikinis are white for purity,Ó Jasmine said, returning the
phone to our suitors. ÒI hope you both maintain the high standards your
white bikinis imply,Ó she added. I touched the triangle of fabric at the
base of my pubic curls and tugged on it. I wished I could pull it up higher.
What if the butler at the restaurant asked to remove my coat?
ÒJasmine,Ó I moaned. ÒThese swimsuits are awful. TheyÕre more
trouble than theyÕre worth! CanÕt we please put on something else?Ó
ÒUp til now youÕve both worn bikinis for your own pleasure,Ó
Jasmine answered. ÒHere, you will wear bikinis and other things for the
pleasure of men. DonÕt expect them to fit, or be comfortable. TheyÕre
designed to show as much as conceal. When youÕve been trained, you may
wear what you wish. But until then, youÕre dolls, girls. Pretty little
slaves for Brent to kiss and pet and be delighted in.Ó
ÒAnd spank too,Ó Missy said, with open-eyed frankness, sticking out
her hips and her tummy and clapping her hands to her bottom.
ÒWell, dear, you DO have a reputation for being naughty,Ó Jasmine
said.
ÒI promise IÕll try to reform myself!Ó Missy offered. Jasmine sliced
her crop through the air, just missing the girlÕs thighs, forcing her to
jump back.
ÒYouÕre too cute to reform yourself,Ó Jasmine smiled. ÒBut you may
try if you wish. IÕm sure weÕll all appreciate it, even if it doesnÕt spare
you.Ó
I ran my fingers tenderly over my heinie. I turned and looked at my
ass in the mirror. Across the fleshy white cheeks of my bottom, high and
proud and firm, ran traces of last nightÕs whipping. My bikini panties,
which did almost nothing to hide my fanny, made my marks look even more
ominous, as if I were just a bottom for whipping, nothing more.
ÒJasmine, please donÕt whip me ever again,Ó I said. I was quite
serious. Were we not equals now, more or less? A firm gaze from her
dispelled that hope.
ÒYouÕre not being whipped this morning so you can sit down like a
proper young lady when Brent takes you to brunch,Ó Jasmine said to me.
She stuck her crop right into the front of my panties and pried them away
from my bush. I felt the loop of her long crop nesting in my pubic hair,
hungering, perhaps, to whip my pussy. ÒWhen you come back, IÕm going to
have you stand in the seat of a big leather chair in the East Wing. WeÕll be
having our afternoon tea, the ladies and I, and you and Missy will show us
what big girls you are.Ó
ÒBy being whipped?Ó I shouted. I felt my face reddening.
ÒYes, by sticking your bottom right out and not complaining and
taking your daily punishment just as you must. Brent will be so pleased to
learn of your progress when I tell him you didnÕt shout or whine.Ó
ÒShe was naughty last night. She licked my pussy and made me
cum,Ó Missy said, pointing a finger at me. I think she supposed she could
exclude herself from my afternoon whipping if she blamed me for
something.
ÒYou too, little one,Ó Jasmine said. ÒReally, girls! What do you think
being a love slave entails?Ó She pulled her crop from my panties and
walked up to me and corralled both Missy and me in her arms. Suddenly,
heated from the string rubbing me so intimately, I found myself meeting
her tongue with mine and sharing a kiss. Missy, aware of JasmineÕs crop
and not wanting to misbehave, stuck out her own tongue. Suddenly we
were three love birds, all cooing and sighing and necking.
ÒMmmm, such sweet dears, let me train you and you will have men
eating from the palms of your hands!Ó Jasmine sighed. We kissed, our
tongues exploring lightly; limning lips, delving within mouths. JasmineÕs
teeth bit and held the tip of my tongue. Missy pecked my cheek. Our hands
caressed each other. The bikinis Missy and I wore were hardly a bar to
inquiring fingers. I felt JasmineÕs intrude into my cunt lips, bypassing the
string there. Missy, meanwhile, ever the devil, probed a childish finger
within my fanny and found my hole.
With sighs of mounting desire we desisted at last, letting our
mouths, then our fingers retreat. Jasmine tossed her hair and regained her
composure. She still held the crop. She was clothed, though her boobs
presented us with the treat of risen nipples now, sticking up through her
t-shirt. IÕd slipped a finger past the crotch of her jeans, to pay her back
for the urgency she was creating in me. Jasmine adjusted her shorts and
gave me a smile.
ÒYou are such a sweet guest,Ó Jasmine said. ÒBut you truly must not
be my equal, dear. I do charge men money who bring their loves here for
training.Ó
ÒThen IÕm just property?Ó I said with a moany-sigh.
ÒYou are your loverÕs property,Ó Jasmine corrected.
ÒWhat if I donÕt like him anymore?Ó I asked. And, truly, I was
beginning to have my doubts.
ÒYou wonÕt like him, sometimes, but thatÕs to be expected.Ó Jasmine
fingered her crop and I knew she was dying to ply me with it. Did she wish
to see me scream? A flash of myself hitting her ran through my mind and
I realized with a shiver how tempting it seemed. To control her, to make
her respond to my every whim...
ÒIÕM not BrentÕs proberty,Ó Missy piped up, mangling the very word
she wished to dispute.
ÒYou, dear child, are a little handful, and I decided to mate you up
with the nearest available male,Ó Jasmine whispered, out of earshot of
our male admirers. ÒBehave or IÕll give you to Larry, Moe, and Curly,Ó she
added, with a nod toward our masturbators. I felt quite detached from
them now, as if they were just furniture. They watched us like hungry
dogs. Much as I disliked JasmineÕs crop, I was glad she had it available to
keep our three hungry suitors at bay. I plucked at it with my fingers and
lifted it to my lips. As she held it steady for me, I kissed it. I was kooky,
the string, our kisses, making me wild.
ÒPunish me now!Ó I begged suddenly. I wanted to get it over with. I
couldnÕt bear the thought of waiting.
ÒNo,Ó Jasmine breathed. ÒHalf the fun is in the waiting. Think of it
as youÕre sitting at brunch. Do you remember last night?Ó
I nodded.
ÒToday will be harder,Ó Jasmine said. She did not smile. Her face
was deadly serious.
ÒYou will hurt me!Ó I gasped.
ÒHurt, but not harm. There is a difference, dear. Always you must
be reminded of your enslavement. Otherwise you would be just a
houseguest. Come, letÕs go to the East Wing. IÕm sure your coats are ready
by now. I have a wonderful tailor.Ó
Jasmine swished her crop and Missy and I, not wanting to cross her,
spun about to go find our lover. Our real lover, Brent, whom I hoped would
find a way to spare me my afternoon cropping. With wiggling bottoms,
glistening earrings dangling from our ears, our makeup just a little
mussed, Missy and I paraded past the masturbating men and headed for my
bedroom door.
ÒAgh! I canÕt stand it! TheyÕre too young! WeÕre not supposed to be
watching this!Ó one of the crewcut twins declared. Missy yelped as his
jism suddenly shot forth and splattered across her leg.
ÒHey! DonÕt pee on me!Ó Missy cried. She bent down and brushed at
the spurting on her leg. I pushed her forward. I could sense more was in
the offing.
ÒItÕs not pee, silly. ItÕs sperm!Ó I said in a hushed voice. Missy
bounced forward as my hands shoved at the small of her back. Her fingers,
scooping up the manÕs sperm from her thigh, waved in front of her face.
Jasmine, following me, frowned at the men and slashed her crop
through the air. It was a warning to the men. She didnÕt want to see them
spoil our swimsuits.
A naughtiness possessed me as I passed in front of our admirers.
ÒTootle-oooh, men!Ó I called out to them, and gave them a little wave.
Suddenly, the remaining two shot off, sending spurts of jism right across
my path. A little hit my thigh but, fortunately, I seemed to magically
walk through the rest, just managing to avoid it.
Standing in the doorway to my bedroom, I looked back with tense
bottom cheeks at the three men whoÕd invaded and defaced my room. A
pungent odor of semen greeted my nostrils. Between each manÕs open legs
lay a puddle of his manhood, upon the floor, staining my nice carpet.
ÒAre they football players?Ó I asked, surprised at their sudden loss
of control.
ÒNo,Ó Jasmine said. ÒTheyÕre Sanramento District Attorneys.Ó
ÒWhat kind of District Attorneys?Ó I asked. I brushed their sperm
off my leg with my fingers.
ÒThey live in a tomato?Ó Missy piped up.
ÒNever mind,Ó Jasmine answered us both. ÒThey came down to
Caracas to maintain their political viability within the system. Bye bye,
boys! If you canÕt control yourselves in front of two little girls donÕt
expect me to have anything to do with you!Ó She slammed the door on
them. ÒDonÕt worry, IÕll have Olaf clean your room before you come back,Ó
she told me. I heard a crashing sound.
ÒWhatÕs that?Ó I asked. I cringed. It sounded as if someone was
smashing the furniture in my bedroom.
ÒItÕs Olaf. I told him if they couldnÕt control themselves he could
give them a free membership in NAMBLA.Ó
ÒWhat?Ó I asked.
ÒWell, perhaps NAMBLA isnÕt the right word for it. SAMMLA might be
better. The South American Man Man Love Association,Ó Jasmine smiled.
I heard a howl from within my (former) bedroom. What were they
doing in there?
ÒAll work and no play makes Olaf a temperamental boy,Ó Jasmine
grinned. Her teeth were white. Wisps of her long dark hair were caught by
the breeze and sent flying out in front of her. She looked like the worldÕs
sweetest dominatrix, standing there with her hair wild in the wind, but
she turned to my bedroom door and locked it from the outside so our
suitors couldnÕt escape. The wind ruffled her t-shirt and she caught at its
scissored neckline to restore it to her shoulder. ÒThey put fine young men
in prison for having underage girlfriends, yet sit at home downloading
child pornography from the Internet!Ó Jasmine said aloud. ÒThen, when
that gets tiresome, they visit Caracas to learn about drug interdiction,
and girl interdicktion, of course. Let them have a taste of their own
medicine for a change!Ó
ÒReally, Jasmine, you shouldnÕt!Ó I pleaded. I wanted to grab the key
from her and release our three friends. After all, even cops needed a little
fun, didnÕt they? So what if theyÕd lost control of their penises? It just
meant they found me attractive!Ó
ÒI donÕt wish to be cruel, dear, but Olaf must be fed sometimes,Ó
Jasmine said to me. ÒI donÕt pay him. I just let him have a man, now and
then. It keeps him happy and I do need his services.Ó Missy and I heard
howls and cries of remorse from my cellblock-like bedroom as the three
Attorneys from the Tomato, or whatever it was, got cornholed by Olaf.
ÒMy daddy doesnÕt like lawyers,Ó Missy offered. She looked at me
with wide eyes. I shivered as screams continued to break from within the
stone walls. I reached out to her and we hugged each other. Then Jasmine,
ever in charge of us, whistled her crop past our bottoms and sent us
walking with quick steps through the garden. The East Wing beckoned,
home of last nightÕs orgy that left me and Missy out in the cold, uninvited,
forced to sleep by ourselves and, though I could hardly dare to remember
it, forced to drink from a toilet! My cunny whispered to me naughtily. My
little string bikini sluiced back and forth within my dell. Every step I
took sent little shivers up me. Bouncing freely, barely contained by the
string and the tiny cups, my breasts felt like lassoed gourds. The wind
blew my long hair out in front of me, making me feel like I had a blonde
halo on. Missy sought my hand. I squeezed hers, reassuringly, even if we
were doomed to have our hineys whipped. We were going to meet Brent,
my love! With my sexy bikini on, inspiring me with my every step, I knew I
would find happiness in his arms.
Stately palms lined the road. At the end of a long driveway the Mont
Vernale waited, its cuisine the best in Caracas. Our limo pulled up and a
doorman opened our door for us. Brent stepped out. He wore a tuxedo. The
restaurant permitted nothing less, even at brunch. Missy was next, a
choker of pearls round her neck. It had replaced her collar. I wore an
identical choker, four strands of pearls, tightly bound round my throat. If
you looked closely you could see that a tiny gold lock, hanging at the back
of my neck, made the choker more than just a piece of jewelry. I could not
remove it. Thankfully my fur coat, high on my neck, kept the back of my
choker from being seen.
We were quite a pair of fashion plates, I thought, as I ducked out of
the limo behind Missy. We each wore long lovely earrings. Our hair was
piled loosely atop our heads, to make us sophisticated. Our fur coats were
waist-length, leaving our legs bare. My coat barely covered my fanny.
Missy, seeing a dime on the asphalt, bent down and carefully picked it up.
Her fur coat was no more concealing than mine, leaving her thighs
completely bare, and her calves too, right down to her five-inch spiked
heels. She was a little unsteady in her shoes. She was used to wearing
sneakers. I scolded her for bending down and took her hand.
Brent smiled at the valets. They were a little surprised to see girls
in such short coats, with bare legs, but it was warm in Caracas and a
little insouciance on the part of female attire was no doubt permitted.
Had they guessed that we wore nothing but string bikinis underneath, IÕm
sure we would have been refused.
ÒYour coat, madam?Ó the butler inside the entrance asked as Missy
and I walked in. Missy, dear girl, made to open her coat, but I caught her in
time.
ÒThey are not used to the air conditioning,Ó Brent said to the butler.
It was chilly in here. He nodded, we passed on. The maitre d' observed us
with a stuffy gaze. His voice, when he spoke, was polite, but a trifle
condescending, as if heÕd once served the Queen and now had to earn his
living less agreeably, catering to mere mortals with money. Missy and I
walked as obediently as we could, following him. The restaurant was
hushed, like the inside of a church. A string quartet was in the center,
playing soft, lyrical notes, entertaining the diners without intruding into
their conversations. Chandeliers hung at regular intervals. Their light
reflected off the silverware and fine china set out on the tables.
Curtains of brocaded silk divided up the interior of the restaurant.
Each table could be viewed by several others yet none could be seen by all.
The diners liked their privacy, yet, dressed in pearls and diamonds, they
did not want to go completely unseen. Older ladies dined with their
husbands, exchanging the dayÕs gossip. I saw no one as young as myself.
I tried not to let my hips wriggle overmuch as I walked. With my
bare legs flashing, I was dressed more daringly than the other females I
saw. I bit my lip. The string between my cunny lips was driving me wild!
Missy let her bottom sway unnaturally, too childish to constrain its
movements. I knew the little cashmere string between her legs must be
tormenting her at least as mine was tormenting me. Even the little bra,
with its cups over my nipples, seemed to stimulate me. I felt my boobies
bobbing within my coat. I sighed, and knew Brent was smirking behind me.
He followed us in his tuxedo, making everything look normal, a man with
his two daughters perhaps, taking them out to lunch.
We came to a table and the maitre d' pulled out a chair for me. I sat.
I held my coat close to my bottom as I sat down so the maitre d' wouldnÕt
see I was bare. My bikini hid nothing. It served only to tantalize me. It
was a teensy thong where it should have been a pouch, a crack belt,
infuriating me with my every movement, which only made me squirm more.
I glanced at Missy. Her cheeks were puffed and she seemed ever more
distracted. How could we possibly enjoy an elegant brunch in this place
when we were both steaming in our dells.
Only Brent was at ease. He watched as the maitre dÕ lit a candle at
our table. For a moment he looked like my father, sitting there, and I
could almost hear him saying, ÒNow girls, I know this is the first time
IÕve taken you to my club. I know youÕre both immature. Please donÕt
embarrass me. Try to behave. DonÕt make a paper airplane out of your
napkin and try not to spill anything.Ó
But fathers werenÕt quite like that, were they? I didnÕt know; I
spent too much time with my mom to know anything about fathers.
Fathers, I think, simply expected you to be grown up, and you were.
Mothers were always the ones warning you and berating you. I looked at
Missy with a confused look on my face. But she was no help at all. She
was eyeing her spoon and I could just imagine her making it into a
catapult.
ÒDo you have any strawberries?Ó Missy piped up.
ÒStrawberry pancakes?Ó Brent asked. I wanted to shout, ÔNo! DonÕt!
SheÕll shoot them at you!Ó but the maitre dÕ was standing right there and I
couldnÕt.
ÒYes, strawberry pancakes, with LOTS of strawberries!Ó Missy
begged. Brent, of course, the poor innocent, was clueless.
ÒWhatever she wishes,Ó he said, tugging absently on the sleeves of
his tux. The maitre dÕ nodded and wrote down her order.
ÒWould you like ham?Ó the maitre dÕ asked Missy.
ÒI want...Ó Missy paused and looked thoughtful for a moment. ÒI want
sausages! BIG ones!Ó She grinned merrily. Somehow, with a sinking heart,
I began to realize our elegant brunch was going to be a complete disaster.
I glared at her. I was enjoying it here. I didnÕt want her spoiling it
with her antics. I was bigger than her. We could settle this in a way that
would get her extra smackings from Jasmine, or from me!
Missy seemed taken aback. She shrugged her shoulders and sank a
little into her chair. The maitre dÕ, oblivious, wrote down her order.
ÒAnything else?Ó he asked.
ÒUmmm, honey. Toast and honey,Ó Missy said. ÒAnd some ice
cream.Ó
ÒIce cream?Ó the maitre asked.
ÒYes, for my pancakes,Ó Missy said.
ÒAnd you, madam?Ó the maitre dÕ asked.
ÒAn omelette,Ó I said.
The maitre dÕ took down my order. Missy squirmed in her seat and
fidgeted. She played with her spoon. Brent ordered, something in French
that I didnÕt understand.
ÒOmelette,Ó Missy said aloud as soon as the maitre dÕ left. She was
teasing me. She lifted her spoon into the air and waved it about. ÒAn
omelette. IÕll have an omelette, please!Ó She giggled. I glared. Our
waiter arrived, bringing us water.
ÒYou would like an omelette?Ó he asked, thinking Missy wanted to
add to her order.
ÒWhy yes. IÕll have an omelette, sunny-side up,Ó Missy said, feigning
elegance.
ÒSunny side up?Ó the waiter asked. ÒAn omelette,Ó
ÒJust bring her an omelette,Ó Brent said dismissively. He pointed at
me: ÒAnd bring her what she is having,Ó he added. ÒThere, now youÕre both
getting everything. And champagne,Ó he added. ÒBring us all some
champagne.Ó
ÒYes, sir,Ó the waiter said, scribbling. I liked him. He was younger
than the maitre dÕ. He was tall and slim but looked, well, handy... He
returned to our table within a minute of leaving, bearing a tray brimming
with champagne glasses and condiments. He set everything down quickly,
smoothly. I wondered if he could despatch me just as smoothly. I would
gasp and with quick fingers he would finish me off, leave me gasping.
I slipped my arms from my sleeves and dropped them within my coat.
I was sick of my infernal panties. I wanted to have a pleasant breakfast
without moaning every time I shifted my hips. I untied the drawstrings of
my panties. I returned my arms to my coatsleeves, taking the panties
with me.
I plopped my panties onto the table beside my plate. Brent looked at
me.
ÒHi darling,Ó I smiled. My voice was sweet. Missy thought I was
teasing him. Our waiter came with our food, glanced down. I saw his eyes
gazing at my little pile of string and cloth next to my spoon. The string
was damp where it had threaded my nest. Gracefully he put down my
omelette, then my pancakes.
Missy, not wanting to be any less daring than me, buried her arms in
her coat. As the waiter laid down her plates her hand suddenly returned to
her coat sleeve, bearing the fruit of her reconnaissance; her undies. She
dropped them onto the table. The waiter noticed. I saw him miss a breath
and I wondered if he guessed all our secrets.
Brent looked at me, at Missy. Our waiter bustled off.
ÒTry not to embarrass me, girls,Ó Brent said. ÒThey do have
statutory rape laws her in Caracas.Ó
ÒOooh, you mean you might go to jail?Ó Missy said. She reached out
with her fingers and played with her panties.
ÒNo, but you might get spanked if you misbehave,Ó Brent warned her.
ÒStop playing with your panties.Ó He reached out and took them from her.
He put them into the pocket of his tuxedo.
ÒA string is dangling down,Ó I said.
ÒHmmm?Ó Brent asked. But our waiter returned just then, bringing
fruit. Grapefruit and pineapple and orange slices, all piled up on a tray.
Brent nodded, unaware that a string connected to MissyÕs underpants was
hanging out of the pocket of his tuxedo.
The waiter left again. Missy sipped her champagne. I drank mine and
enjoyed the flow of little bubbles running down my throat. They settled
into my tummy. Missy, intrigued by the idea of staging a strip show for
our waiter, drew her arms into her coat once more. Brent tried to stop
her, but our waiter reappeared and refilled our champagne glasses. As he
turned to leave MissyÕs hands popped from the sleeves of her coat again,
bringing up her bra this time, and she laid it onto the table. The waiter, a
perplexed look on his face, turned and left.
ÒMissy, youÕre going to get spanked extra hard for that,Ó Brent said.
ÒBut Brent, youÕre going to have Jasmine spank us anyway when we
get home,Ó I said. I pouted and my own arms disappeared inside my coat. I
shifted my breasts forward, arching my back, and reached behind myself
and untied my bra. I liked having it off. It kept tickling my nipples. Now,
perhaps, I could enjoy my meal. I slipped my arms back into my sleeves
and laid my bra beside my bottoms.
Brent looked at my little bikini, laid in a tangled pile next to my
silverware. He gulped, shifted his hips. Was he at last feeling a little
discomfited? Good. It was all his fault, anyway. He should have let us
wear dresses and blouses to brunch, instead of naughty bikinis.
Missy picked up a pitcher of syrup. I thought she was going to pour
it on her pancakes but, instead, she hovered the lip of the syrup pitcher
over her bosom.
Brent, who sat between Missy and I, with she and I facing each other
across the table, shot his gaze from me to her. Missy grinned at him. She
poured the syrup into her coat.
ÒOooh! I seemed to have spilled something!Ó she said with a high,
spoilt voice. I watched in disbelief as she poured the syrup over her
bosoms.
Our waiter returned. He brought us slices of watermelon. He seemed
solicitous of our appetites. He wished that we should lack nothing. Missy
drew her coat closer. Her syrupy bosom could not be seen within the
closely held halves of her coat. She poured syrup on her pancakes.
The waiter left. I decided to eat my toast while it was hot. I
buttered it. Then I lifted up the bottle of honey to squeeze some on my
toast. I glanced at Brent. He was grinning at Missy, bemused, admiring
her daring. She had entranced him. He liked her mischievous ways.
I held the squeeze bottle of honey between the tips of my fingers. I
didnÕt like losing my boyfriend to Missy. I was going to put the honey on
my toast but, suddenly, I put it over my chest.
ÒDo you think IÕm sweet, Brent?Ó I asked. He turned his head to me.
Liberally I squeezed the bottle of honey and it spurted a stream of itself
into my coat. I felt it splash onto my breasts. It felt like MissyÕs lollipop.
I kept squirting as the sticky goo ran down to the tips of my nipples inside
my coat.
Missy decided she must not be outdone. There was a plastic bottle
of HersheyÕs syrup on our table, for her ice cream pancakes. She picked it
up and squirted it down inside her coat. ÒIÕm getting gooder all the time,Ó
she said with an invitational smile to Brent. ÒWould you like to give me a
licking?Ó
Brent was both pleased and displeased. He desperately didnÕt want
to be embarrassed by us, yet seeing us squirt ourselves down with the
condiments was making him hard. He shifted in his chair, yet it offered
him no relief. I picked up the chilled bottle of whipped cream that the
waiter had brought for our strawberries. I scooted my chair back a little
and dropped it down to the level of my legs. Daintily, with BrentÕs eyes
gazing in aroused horror, I lifted the front of my coat and spread my legs.
I aimed the can of whipped cream at my pussy. I looked at Brent and
smiled. I depressed the top of the can. A squirting rush came to my ears.
I gasped as a spurt of whipped cream struck my dell. It was cold! I bit my
lower lip, squirted some more, and then replaced my coat. I put the can
back up on the table. Let Missy top that!
Missy reached for her own can of whipped cream. It was, like mine,
a miniature can, offered by Redi-Whip to restaurants to promote its brand
name. It was housed in a little bucket of ice and MissyÕs eyes glowed as
she grabbed for it. Fortunately, Brent found his wits and grabbed her
wrist just as she picked up the can.
ÒNo, Missy,Ó he said. He drew the can from her fingertips.
ÒI need it for my strawberries!Ó Missy whined.
ÒIÕll squirt it,Ó Brent replied. He put the whipped cream on her
strawberries liberally, hoping to empty the can. Missy watched, pouting,
frowning, and crossed her arms. When Brent was done he replaced the
whipped cream in the bucket. Missy grabbed it and put it down between
her legs.
The waiter appeared. ÒMay I take any of your plates?Ó he asked.
Missy did not see him.
SPLURT!
Missy gasped. ÒOoooh! ThatÕs cold!Ó she squeaked. Then, realizing
we had company, she looked up at the waiter, guiltily. Stray locks from
her chestnut coiffure fell into her eyes. ÒI was just playing,Ó she
whispered contritely.
ÒOh! May I get you a napkin?Ó the waiter asked helpfully. He did not
understand.
ÒNoooo,Ó Missy murmured. She replaced the can in the bucket. ÒI
could use some more whipped cream, though. This oneÕs almost out.Ó
ÒSheÕd like a bib,Ó Brent scowled. The waiter, at last, caught on a
little (hopefully no more) and nodded politely.
Several of our plates were removed. Missy picked up her glass of
orange juice and gurgled it down noisily. Besides our champagne we had
hot chocolate and the juice, or anything else we wished. Brent nursed a
cup of coffee. The establishment, I guessed, charged an extravagant price
for brunch, and could afford to shower us with food.
When the waiter left Brent dipped a hand into his tux and drew out a
handkerchief. I could see it was concealing something. ÒYou girls have
been very naughty,Ó he said quietly. He handed me the handkerchief and I
accepted it.
ÒI want one too!Ó Missy piped up. Her eyes were wide. She was like
a younger sibling, always afraid of being left out. I opened my
handkerchief. Handcuffs! I felt my throat constrict.
ÒPut them on,Ó Brent said somberly.
ÒBrent! You wouldnÕt--Ó I was having such a nice meal, albeit a
messy one. He looked at me with his hard, demanding eyes, the ones that
made my heart skip beats. IÕd never had a father. Not to speak of, anyway.
I couldnÕt refuse. If heÕd been a woman IÕd have said Ôno,Õ but I couldnÕt
refuse that scowling, unshaved jaw, stubbled like a pirateÕs or a
prisonerÕs. He had prisonerÕs eyes, too. Were we not illegal? Yet he
owned us. He owned us and our furs and the food in our bellies and the
risque bikinis weÕd worn into the restaurant.
I drew the handcuffs into the sleeve of my coat. Brent passed a
handkerchief parcel to Missy so she could be just like me. She accepted it,
poor child. She was desperate not to be outdone by me, even if it meant
her doom.
IÕd noticed that the handcuffs Brent had given me were connected by
a long chain. I guessed why, now, reaching behind myself and snapping on
the first cuff. The chain allowed enough room for my cuffed hand to
secure my uncuffed hand. Looking at Brent, feeling my hunger for him rise
within my creamed, slitted womb, I snapped the second handcuff into
place.
ÒVery good,Ó Brent said to me. His eyes smoldered. Mine showed
fear, resignation, and a tinge of love. Did I wish it any other way? HeÕd
promised a spanking for me. Jasmine had promised it, and she was fierce.
I felt a new sensation in my bottom, a memory of last nightÕs whipping,
gone now, except in my mind, mixed with the tension and fear of a new
assault. The seat, warm and soft, was meant to offer me the ultimate
comfort. Yet I would abandon it and follow Brent home, where I would be
displayed and forced to suffer. I yanked on my handcuffs. The chain
snapped taut, offered me no escape. I yanked again. My wrists banged
within the grasping steel of the handcuffs. Yes, I was his prisoner now.
Fully, completely. Unless, that is, I chose to be a tattletale. I could tell
all to the maitre dÕ and be flying home on the next plane, back to my real
home, back to L.A.
I set my teeth. Brent watched me do it. He saw my determination,
he smiled wanly at my cupid face. I was an angel. I was a lover. I was a
prisoner.
A raw metal click announced MissyÕs own imprisonment.
ÒIÕm trapped!Ó she realized. She had locked herself in without
understanding the consequences. ÒHow do I unlock this?Ó
ÒYou donÕt,Ó Brent said.
ÒThe bib, sir,Ó our waiter announced, returning suddenly.
ÒI donÕt want to wear a bib!Ó Missy proclaimed. Diners looked up
from their meals. Like explorers in a cave they gazed uncertainly, into the
darkness of ignorance but finding small gleams of knowledge. Was the girl
not too big for a bib? Yet perhaps sheÕd been difficult. The bib was meant
as a threat to control her.
ÒThe bib will not be needed. SheÕs agreed to behave,Ó Brent told our
waiter.
ÒNo I havenÕt!Ó Missy contradicted. The waiter withdrew, letting us
settle the matter ourself. He left the bib on the table, beside MissyÕs
undies. Did he know they were undies? I could not tell.
Brent finished his breakfast. It was odd sitting there, watching him
eat, unable to eat myself. My arms were pinned behind me now, inside the
confines of my coat. Nobody knew, nobody guessed. My nipples were
sticky. They felt like they were adhering themselves to the inside of my
coat as the honey on them dried. Would my nipples be ripped from my
chest when I stood up? I was wet all down my tummy, with honey
drippings and chocolate syrup. From the neck up I was a picture of
politeness, with dazzling earrings, perfect hair, and sensational makeup.
Yet between my thighs I was wet with oozing whipped cream. I felt
decadent. Brent finished his meal and rose. He drew out MissyÕs chair.
She was quiet. She was a brat, not a tattletale. She would not betray our
captivity. Brent came to my place and helped me up.
I walked with expansively swaying hips through the restaurant. I
could not help myself. I was being taken home to be spanked. I was going
to get it. My bottom rubbed against the soft inside of my coat, unknowing,
comfortable. Yet my mind was a whirl of confusion. I should tell! I
should run! But how humiliating to be discovered naked under my fur coat,
and handcuffed, and messy with cream and chocolate and honey. And all
put there by me, little guiltless me, except nobody would believe I was
guiltless. TheyÕd say I was, of course. TheyÕd be politically correct in
speaking to me. But behind my back theyÕd say, ÒSuch little tramps those
two were! Imagine! Messing themselves like that!Ó
Missy wriggled exceedingly as she walked. She was frightened,
frisky, a girl compassing between the known and the unknown. How hard
would Jasmine hit us? Would we really be made to stand before ladies, at
tea? I almost opted to blurt out my fate just then, passing the maitre dÕ.
Yet it would be a private humiliation, between lovers. Only a few would
know. It would not be on the evening news, with my name blocked out but
all my friends knowing. My mom knowing. ÒHereÕs your daughter, maÕam,Ó
the F.B.I. man would say. ÒWe found her in Caracas. She was staying with
a man who kept her as a pet and...Ó
I curled my fingers around the underside of my coat, in back. To get
a grip. To reassure myself. Did the maitre dÕ see my fingers? Did he
wonder why I had my hands inside my coat, and behind me, with my
fingertips sticking out and curled round the fur trim of my coat? I did not
know whether our coats were real or artificial, but they were fur on fur,
blonde fur surrounded by a lighter fur trim. Probably they were ersatz, I
concluded. Missy and I were still a bit too irresponsible for real fur.
Perhaps Brent would buy us real fur coats when we parted, when weÕd
proven ourselves to him, that we were real women and not just little
brats.
Would there be a parting? I speculated on that, passing out of the
restaurant. I wanted to glance back over my shoulder. Had I left a trail of
drips behind me? It felt like the cream on my pussy was dripping. I hoped
not. Brent made me so ecstatic, but he was fierce, under his smooth
demeanor. His control-oriented nature appealed to me, yet would it
always? Surely I must be free sometime. But now, just now, I was his.
Myself, and Missy too, probably, unless I could rid myself of her. He liked
having two of us. It made him King. Had he seen her and requested her?
Had he heard her sobbing screams somehow, and asked for her?
ÒI have to go to the bathroom,Ó Missy confided to Brent as he halted
us. We were out of the restaurant now, thankfully, and under the end of a
tented entryway. A valet saw us and hurried off for our limo.
ÒWhen we get home,Ó Brent said.
ÒI have to go NOW,Ó Missy whined. ÒUnlock me.Ó
ÒNo,Ó Brent answered.
ÒIÕll pee in the car,Ó Missy warned.
ÒWeÕll see about that,Ó Brent replied.
I rode sitting on the way back. I was cuffed, sitting barebottomed
on the carÕs leather seat. I could feel the leather adhering itself to my
ass. It would sting a little when I stood up, like my nipples stung when,
on rising, I forcibly detached their honeyed tips from the inside of my
coat. But I was better off than Missy. She rode lying over BrentÕs lap.
Barelegged, bare-bottomed, she was forced to present him with her naked
wriggling ass all the way home. She begged to pee but he refused.
ÒYouÕre putting on quite a show,Ó Brent smirked at Missy.
ÒOooh! Let me up! I need to pee and I donÕt like lying on my tummy!
Quit sticking your finger in my hole!Ó Missy begged. Brent just laughed. I
laughed. She looked absolutely silly lying with her fanny all exposed, her
feet tossing in the air and her legs kicking. Yet her hands were fastened
within the cuffs, trapping her, and Brent, oiling his finger with his spit,
was entertaining himself by plunging his digit in MissyÕs anus. She dared
not misbehave too much or heÕd go deeper with his finger, or try
penetrating her with two, or three. She was forced to accept him in her
butthole and offer only pleading resistance. She might have kicked at his
chin with her heel but she would have instantly found her guts impaled.
Like a man drilling for oil, Brent eased his finger in and out of her,
enjoying his power over her, the fear he induced.
ÒDo you have to pee on my pants leg, minx? Hmmmm? Go ahead, pee!
Here, let me tickle your cunny!Ó
ÒOh no sir please, stop! DonÕt! I weally WILL pee! Ack!Ó
And so our ride proceeded. Missy was getting her comeuppance now,
for all her mischief at brunch. Yet, as we neared our destination, Brent
thought of a way to punish me too.
ÒOpen your legs,Ó he told me. I obeyed. Sitting there, on the seat
with my arms trapped behind me, I felt desperately vulnerable. Exposing
my slit to him only made it worse. Yet there was nothing I could do. ÒEat
her,Ó Brent told Missy. ÒLick up all that whipped cream on her pussy!Ó
ÒOh, no! PLEASE! I donÕt like eating girls! I--Ó Brent took MissyÕs
face and manhandled it into my dell. To keep her ever-compliant he
rammed his finger to its deepest point yet in her butthole.
I gasped and heaved my chest forward as little MissyÕs tongue delved
within me. I heard a soft lapping sound and looked down, wishing she
wasnÕt there, yet unable to escape her. She mooed and moaned and
pleaded, but Brent made her lick me clean. When at last he allowed her to
raise her face a little I saw her mouth was circled with cream. Missy
licked her lips. Perhaps she had a sweet tooth after all.
ÒAlright you two, time to get out!Ó Brent told us. Our limo entered
JasmineÕs property. We were safe again, free to play out our games
without anyone knowing. Yet we were at our most vulnerable, Missy and I,
for we were the game. We were the pieces and Brent was our
Chessmaster.
We trooped within the house. We were taken into a parlor. Brent
admitted us himself. He was happy, ushering us along, happy like a man
who owns property and enjoys doing with it what he pleases. He wiped his
finger with his handkerchief so it wouldnÕt betray traces of MissyÕs shit.
Within the parlor Jasmine sat with two other women. They were
mid-30Õs, perhaps, young like she yet dignified. Old enough to be amused
by what happened to us, yet still in the bloom of youth, pleasing Brent
with their bodies if they chose to disrobe. At the moment they were
fashionably dressed. One wore a sweater, unbuttoned, over a pretty dress.
She had glasses but had put them aside on the coffee table. The other had
on a skirt and blouse. Long strands of pearls hung casually down over her
bosoms. They made her look casual but expensive. Jasmine wore slacks.
They were dress slacks, smooth and dark brown. She wore a beige blouse
and a tan neckerchief. I might have thought I was at some conservative
womenÕs luncheon, except I was barelegged and cuffed.
Jasmine rose as we entered. She approached me first and unbuttoned
my fur. Opening it, she saw the mess IÕd made of myself at lunch. She
gasped. The other two women gazed at me and then laughed. She opened
up Missy next. She removed our coats and called the butler to come and
hang them. She did nothing about our handcuffs.
ÒPoor dear. Even your face is messy,Ó Jasmine said to Missy. She
dipped the corner of a napkin into her tea and wiped MissyÕs mouth with it.
ÒBrent made me--Ó Missy began, but Jasmine hushed her. Her finger
pressed itself to MissyÕs lips. She was gentle, yet her next words chilled
me. ÒGo stand on that big leather chair, darling,Ó Jasmine urged Missy.
ÒBut wonÕt you--?Ó Missy began. Jasmine took her by her pinned
arms and walked her to the chair. In her confusion, Missy did not finish
her sentence. Jasmine tugged off the girlÕs pumps. Then Jasmine bent and
lifted MissyÕs thigh and made her step up onto the chair. MissyÕs feet
planted themselves in the seat. It squished down under her weight. Her
adorable bottom hung its cheeks before our eyes.
The woman with the sweater and the long pretty dress rose from her
chair. She wafted over to Missy. With a concerned look in her eyes, yet
with implacable hands, she forced MissyÕs wrists up off her bulging little
bottom cheeks. The woman, whom I later learned was named Kerri,
pressed MissyÕs hands into the small of her back. Drawing a leather cord
from her sweater, she bound MissyÕs upraised wrists to the back of her
pearl choker.
ÒDonÕt break the strands of pearls or it will be worse for you,Ó
Jasmine told Missy.
ÒBut what are you going to do to me?Ó Missy bawled. She was
shivering and her peaked, honey-tipped breasts were shaking. With her
arms yanked back and high on her spine, bound quite implacably, she
offered her bosoms to the wall. It was an obscene vista, this poor
milkmaid of a girl presenting her full young bosoms. Kerri slipped into the
space behind the chair and, having made Missy present her mammaries, she
took hold of them. Kerri kissed each of MissyÕs nipples in turn.
ÒOoooh, your buds taste like honey!Ó Kerri smiled.
ÒQuit licking my boobies!Ó Missy complained.
ÒIÕm afraid this is a lesbian luncheon, dear,Ó Jasmine said to Missy.
She patted the girlÕs bottom and smiled over MissyÕs shoulder at Kerri.
ÒIÕm going to swat this precious little ass of yours until its wigglier than
you can imagine. Then IÕm going to cup it with my hands and youÕre going
to roll it on my palms, letting me feel all the little tensions and spasms
in your tushy. I see BrentÕs already been playing with you a little, from
this trace of shit in your ass crack. Bring me a napkin, Leslie, so I can
wipe her.Ó
The woman with the long strands of pearls rose from her own chair,
putting down her tea first, on the low coffeetable the three of them had
been sharing. I saw a book on the table. ÒLost Loves, The Shame of
AmericaÕs Anti-Gay Policies,Ó it said. Beside it was a book of poems.
ÒLittle Clits,Ó its no-nonsense title proclaimed. A tasseled bookmark
with hearts lay between the chapbook and the treatise.
Jasmine wiped MissyÕs bottom. ÒOh boo hoo!Ó Missy cried, standing
in the chair, her breasts held by Kerri and Jasmine and Leslie attending to
her ass. But what about me? I was next. I knew I was next. I had to
stand and watch her suffer and then take her place, all for the womenÕs
aimless amusement. It was midafternoon, a time of boredom and invented
games to pass the time. I looked at Brent.
ÒMust I?Ó I asked him. He nodded. ÒOh, donÕt make me!Ó I begged.
ÒWhy?Ó he asked.
ÒBecause I love you!Ó I sighed.
ÒThen obey me,Ó he replied. He looked away from me and stood
admiring MissyÕs ass. Jasmine was kissing it, soft little kissed. Beside
her Leslie had picked up a crop off a lamp table and was testing its flex.
With her hands she bent it, then let go of one end and let it snap back to
rigidity.
ÒThis should leave nice marks,Ó Leslie said to Jasmine.
ÒIt will give her something to be proud of,Ó Jasmine agreed. ÒI
always liked showing off my marks after a whipping when I was a teen,
didnÕt you?Ó
ÒMmmmHmmm,Ó Leslie agreed. ÒThough now I prefer having the whip
hand.Ó
ÒThere is more work involved in being mistress, though,Ó Jasmine
said. She lifted her face from MissyÕs bottom and patted it with her hand.
ÒIÕLL be mistress!Ó Missy piped up.
ÒShhhh, or youÕll be gagged!Ó Kerri, squeezing her breasts, answered.
ÒYouÕd just dance around and act silly and whack without even
aiming,Ó Jasmine replied. ÒA young girl submits first, Missy. Only then
may she lead.Ó On the lamp table a bottle of Alpha-Keri lotion waited to
be smoothed on MissyÕs bottom. Beside it, in a little pile, were condoms,
no doubt for Brent. They were wrapped in gold foil. Would he have our
bottoms, encased in them? I looked at him again. His trousers sported a
tent now. I longed for him but he was gazing at MissyÕs ass.
ÒHold her,Ó Jasmine said to Kerri.
ÒIÕve got her by the breasts,Ó Kerri smiled.
ÒI want you all whipped,Ó Brent said. Jasmine, just accepting the
crop from Leslie, looked back at my lover.
ÒWould you like that, Brent?Ó Jasmine asked. She flexed the crop
between her fists.
ÒYes,Ó Brent said. ÒTake off your pants. Have your friends take off
their skirts. And your panties. Roll up your blouses so I can watch your
bare ass as you whip hers.Ó He nodded at Missy. The girl was sobbing now,
but nobody was paying attention.
ÒThere are many hours Ôtil evening,Ó Jasmine said, thinking aloud to
herself, enjoying the repartee. ÒWe will have an orgy this evening, of
course, but a little fun now shouldnÕt spoil it.Ó She eyed Brent. Her gaze
lowered itself to his trousers. ÒIf we play victim for you, you must play
victim for us,Ó Jasmine said.
ÒO.K.,Ó Brent replied.
ÒNo, my dear, think on it a moment. We will own your body and do
with it what we please. You will not complain, and you will not disobey.Ó
ÒO.K.,Ó Brent said, as nonchalant as before.
ÒThe young man wants it,Ó Leslie smiled. She had JasmineÕs fiery
eyes. She licked her lips and looked uncompromisingly at BrentÕs crotch.
ÒYou know it will involve the penis,Ó she told Brent.
ÒAnd the testicles,Ó Kerri suggested.
ÒYes, the penis and the testicles, YOUR penis and testicles, young
man. ThatÕs what weÕll concentrate on, and weÕll be giving just as good as
we got. Do you really want to see our bottoms cropped?Ó
Brent paused a moment. I knew then that he wanted to back out but
his manly ego prevented it. He swallowed. ÒOkay,Ó he said.
ÒVery good. He has sworn to it and pledged his penis,Ó Jasmine said
to her friends. ÒOff with your panties and dresses, girls! WeÕre not going
to be able to sit after this, but he wonÕt be able to sit or to stand!Ó Like
witches they laughed then, sending shivers right down my spine to my
tailbone. Poor Missy was weeping. Kerri unhanded her to undress. Missy
tried to step down from the chair.
ÒStay up there, girl!Ó Jasmine said. She slapped MissyÕs ass hard
with her palm.
ÒYAHOOOO!Ó Missy howled. She rose up on her toes. With her feet in
the seat of the chair and her face arched toward the ceiling, she looked
like a schoolgirl caught out by the teacher. But her wrists were trussed
up high behind her, making her boobies stick out. No teacher, however
depraved, would do that. These were sexual games, not schoolroom
punishments. Missy, with her honeyed tits quaking and her bottomcheeks
tensing, would be just the first of our victims. Indeed, by afternoonÕs end
all of us would be hurting.
The females hurried out of their clothes. There seemed to be an
electricity between the ladies, as if a promised course of events had
borne all the fruit they hoped it might. Or perhaps they were just afraid
of Brent. After all, he was a big man. He scowled at them, unhappy with
the terms he struck. Yet his penis, I thought, seemed to be ever bigger
within his trousers. I watched it grow. It made my slit juicy.
Jasmine and Kerri and Leslie bared their asses to Brent but left
their tops on. That was the deal theyÕd struck. It preserved a bit of their
modesty. Jasmine, though, dutifully rolled up the backs of their blouses
so that Brent could see their bottoms all he wished. She pinned her
friendsÕ blouses up with hair pins plucked from her lovely dark hair. Kerri,
having no blouse but a sweater, stripped it off first, then donned it again
after removing her dress. She kept her back turned while she was naked
so that Brent couldnÕt see her boobs. The ladies liked being coy. I
meanwhile, was forced to stand in the altogether, showing my bush, my
ass, my boobs. It made me feel wet, being stripped naked and shown like
this. To console myself in my excitement, I bent my chin down and began
licking honey and chocolate off my chest. I felt warm, passionate. I
wanted. I did not want to wait, even if it hurt.
ÒNo! Oh please, no!Ó Missy begged. Kerri seized her breasts once
more. She was bare-assed as her victim now, wearing only her fuzzy
sweater, her dress a crumpled pile on a chair. Jasmine strutted behind
Missy, taking up the crop again and swishing it ominously through the air.
ÒShe should be nice and bouncy,Ó Leslie observed, eyeing MissyÕs ass.
ÒOh, she will be absolutely darling,Ó Jasmine replied. ÒSheÕll show
us her ass like sheÕs never shown it to anyone. Do you have to pee too,
dear?Ó
ÒYes,Ó Missy sobbed. She had her thighs tightly together and sheÕd
been moving her hips in little urgent circles ever since mounting the chair.
ÒWell, donÕt pee in it,Ó Jasmine warned.
ÒOh, all I want to do is go pee and go home!Ó Missy declared.
ÒShhh,Ó Kerri replied. She bit one of MissyÕs nipples with her teeth.
A light little bite, but if Missy jerked suddenly it might prove worse.
ÒLetÕs see you jiggle that ass, honey!Ó Jasmine smiled. She struck.
Hard. Missy shouted and threw her face toward the ceiling. Her mouth
gasped open and her chest heaved forward. Kerri bit at her boobs. MissyÕs
asscheeks contracted under the blow and then rebounded reflexively. It
looked as if twin marshmallow halves were being forced in along a central
line and then allowed to rise, as if in an oven; cake dough rising in the
heat.
ÒWaHOOOOO!Ó Missy stamped her feet in the seat of the chair and
sobbed bitterly. I tensed my own ass, watching. I would be next and
Jasmine would be no less severe with me. If anything, IÕd get it worse. I
was older and, in her estimation, I could take more.
ÒPlease Brent,Ó I said, turning to him again. I bowed my knees,
indicating my need. I wanted him, just him. I didnÕt need these stupid
games. He grinned at me sardonically.
ÒIÕm a man of many tastes,Ó he replied.
ÒYouÕre a pervert!Ó I hissed.
ÒYour ass will sing for that,Ó he said. He unzipped himself and drew
out his penis. He did not fear, I guess, the torture the ladies had planned
for it.
Jasmine paused and looked at Brent. ÒDonÕt cum,Ó she warned him.
ÒYou will endure our punishment more easily if your cock still longs for
pleasure.Ó
ÒIÕll do as I please,Ó Brent said. He began masturbating himself. I
felt shocked, watching him. DidnÕt he want me? He didnÕt need to play
with himself! I felt like dropping to my knees and sucking him but I was
repelled by the ease with which he dismissed me and pleasured himself
with the sight of MissyÕs ass.
ÒI hate you,Ó I told Brent. He ignored me. Men! Why do they think of
nothing but their penises? The world would be much better, I think, and
men would be much better too, if men didnÕt have penises. But then, of
course, they wouldnÕt be men and...
ÒYEEEARGH!Ó Missy howled. Jasmine was striking her with languid
blows, each given after the girl had finished her dancing from the one
before. They were hard when they came. Hard and swift and fast, but the
interval inbetween was a time of pausing, of waiting, of sips of tea and
bites of crumpets. I was offered tea and accepted. Jasmine poured it into
my mouth for me. She tickled my nest.
ÒDelicious,Ó I heard Kerri say. I looked past Jasmine and saw she
was playing with MissyÕs slit. Leslie frigged herself and Jasmine, after
tickling me, fondled herself.
ÒOhhh, please donÕt,Ó Missy sobbed. She had to pee badly and KerriÕs
tickling only made it worse. Missy squeezed her cheeks and her breath
hissed. Even tensing her bottom made it hurt now. Thin blazing stripes
crossed her behind. They were almost weals, but not quite.
ÒAnother blow across any of those lines and sheÕll be wealed for
sure,Ó Leslie observed.
ÒThen IÕll have to aim carefully, wonÕt I?Ó Jasmine called out. She
fingered my pussy as freely as if she were a nurse and I were her patient.
ÒPoor little Missy! Are you afraid I wonÕt be careful enough in my aiming?
DonÕt jump around, dear, or youÕll be sorry!Ó
Jasmine looked at me and smiled. ÒDo you have to pee?Ó she asked.
ÒA little,Ó I answered truthfully. ÒThen you must have more tea,Ó
Jasmine said. ÒI want you absolutely bursting when I put you up on the
chair.Ó
ÒNo, please,Ó I said, but she fetched the teapot and made me drink
three whole cups. Brent observed me. He made sure I did just as Jasmine
insisted. The other girls watched too. They liked seeing me prepared for
my fate. The preparations of it were almost as much fun for them as the
doing of it.
ÒLetÕs finish this little tart off,Ó Jasmine said when sheÕd made me
drink all I could and returned to Missy. With hissing strokes she did her
best to mark Missy in new places on her bottom. Missy howled and
pleaded, but there was no mercy. Her chubby bottom was sliced up,
leaving her looking like a tomato in back, blazing under the heat of the
lash.
ÒMy such a fine shot IÕve been,Ó Jasmine observed. Missy jiggled her
poor huddled cheeks, sobbing on KerriÕs shoulder as the woman tried to
keep her as still as she could by mouthing the girlÕs tits.
ÒYouÕre no fun at all. YouÕve been at this too long!Ó Leslie observed.
ÒLet me hit her. IÕm sure IÕll miss and strike one of her marks.Ó
ÒNo, IÕll do it deliberately,Ó Jasmine answered. ÒIÕve got a weal for
you, dear Missy. Hold on tight!Ó Jasmine called. She struck the girl hard
where sheÕd been before, laying a stroke right over a previous line. She hit
the underside of MissyÕs bottom. SheÕd feel it most there. Missy threw
her head back and howled like a banshee. Kerri, forever consoling her, fed
at her nipples. MissyÕs tummy expanded, teddy bear-like, then contracted
as she drew in her bottomcheeks. But she could not contain them for long,
and they bounced out again, shaking and saucily showing themselves.
ÒOoooh, feel!Ó Jasmine said to Leslie. But Leslie could not get at the
girl for Jasmine placed her own palms there, right on MissyÕs little ass,
feeling the warmth of the blows. Missy danced and bounced in JasmineÕs
hands. Her bottom rolled. Jasmine let her shake her hinds against her
palms and announced to us that it felt delightfully obscene.
ÒPoor little baby! You act like youÕve sat in a nest of hornets!Ó
Jasmine teased. Missy bawled and finally hung her head, defeated.
Jasmine had Leslie squirt lotion onto her hands and then she palmed
MissyÕs bottom again, letting the girl grind her poor smarting ass into the
soothing lotion on her palms. It was a truly decadent sight. Missy
mouthed at the air, her eyes shut tight, her cheek resting on KerriÕs
shoulder. She offered her behind in brazen desperation to JasmineÕs
palms. A little while ago the girl would have balked at letting Jasmine
handle her bottom, yet now she desired it, urgently, and felt no qualms
about shoving her ass into JasmineÕs seeking hands.
I tensed my own bottom, watching. I could not bear this. There must
be some way out. I watched as Jasmine, bored at last with MissyÕs
gyrations, opened her cheeks and stuck her thumb into MissyÕs hole.
ÒOh! Yes! Please!Ó Missy cried. She did not mind being cornholed
now. Any attention was helpful. With lotion-slicked fingers Jasmine
fucked little MissyÕs asshole. The girl simply accepted it, even needed it,
while in front Kerri teased her clit, stopping only when Missy tensed on
the brink of orgasm. Cumming was not permitted. Even the ladies teased
themselves only to the edge. All else must wait, until the punishments
were done.
Missy was taken down from the chair. Jasmine had pumped her ass
and spanked her bottom. Nothing else was required of her for now.
Brusquely she was shunted aside, and they came for me.
ÒOhhhh! I hurt very much!Ó Missy bawled. She stood bereft. The
ladies ignored her. Tensing her thighs together, she suddenly peed on the
carpet.
ÒMissy! Bad girl!Ó Jasmine declared. She slapped MissyÕs face. ÒGo
stand in the corner, you naughty girl!Ó Crying, Missy was led by Leslie into
a corner of the room. Leslie drew the girl along with a finger crooked into
her lovely pearl choker, using it as a collar. Leslie faced Missy into the
corner and let her stand there, hollaring over the state of her bottom, her
breasts thrust forward, her wrists pinned high behind her, the cheeks of
her ass clenched and churning and shaking, red as beets.
ÒDo you have to pee?Ó Jasmine asked me. I stood before the chair,
ready to mount. The seat dipped slightly where MissyÕs feet had weighed
upon it.
ÒPretty much,Ó I replied. I was truthful. There was no denying
myself to Jasmine. My body was bare and she could see all my tensings.
ÒDrink more,Ó Jasmine urged. Leslie fetched the teapot and I was
served another cup.
ÒIÕll pee on your carpet,Ó I protested, but Jasmine poured the tea
through my lips and I was forced to swallow it, lest it be spilt.
ÒNow up on the chair, dear,Ó Jasmine said. She cupped the cheeks of
my bottom and urged me up upon it. The big cushioned seat sighed. My
toes squirmed on its leather. Some of the whipped cream and honey on
Missy had dripped to the surface of the seat and it was slick there.
ÒMmmm, nice,Ó Kerri said, grasping my tits and squeezing them.
ÒGod, what a great ass!Ó Leslie remarked. I was on display now,
presenting my white bottom. I drew in my cheeks and they whistled at me.
I felt like a treasure put up for auction. Except the crowd was nothing but
vandals.
ÒSheÕll feel delicious when weÕve warmed her up,Ó Jasmine said.
She palmed my cheeks. ÒIÕm going to toast these lovely bottoms of yours,
Kelly!Ó she said to me. Her voice was happy. I tried to draw myself away
from her and she laughed. ÒYou wonÕt be so modest when IÕve switched you
up,Ó she told me.
Kerri fingered my dell. ÒDonÕt hesitate to pee,Ó she whispered to me.
ÒThe last one is always permitted to pee in the chair. Go on my hand when
you do it!Ó I blanched. I had to pee, but now that sheÕd asked me to go on
her I felt a sudden recalcitrance. Like when youÕre a small girl and you
decide to pee in the pool, and then suddenly canÕt because youÕre wearing
your swimsuit. You agree with yourself to go, secretly, so you donÕt have
to quit playing. But your bladder just wonÕt let go. Kerri saw my
recalcitrance and tickled my nest. ÒDonÕt worry, IÕll help you,Ó she
confided. ÒJust think of yourself in a waterfall, then youÕll pee. Do it on
my hand and IÕll make them stop whipping you! I promise!Ó Her eyes
glowed at me. She bent and kissed my tummy. ÒYou are so sweet,Ó she
said. ÒI hate to see you marked but it wonÕt hurt too much, I hope. We can
sleep together afterward.Ó
Jasmine, meanwhile, had fetched ointment and was polishing up her
leather riding crop. She wanted it to sting as much as it could, she said.
While she prepared her implement Leslie went to Brent and checked on the
condition of his cock. ÒSoon weÕll begin with you, sir,Ó she said very
meekly to him, but under her meekness I sensed the attitude of a lioness.
She was hungry for his cock and, worse, she was hungry to do awful things
to it and see his reaction. Brent was so hard by now heÕd wisely ceased
pleasuring himself. He was on a hair trigger, ready to cum. He drew back
from LeslieÕs seeking hands but she would not be denied. She grasped his
organ and gave it a quick inspection. They had not met before today. They
did not even know each otherÕs last names.
ÒYouÕre one of the biggest males IÕve seen,Ó Leslie said frankly. She
handled his balls and yanked his cock up toward his stomach. ÒIs the
underside of the penis the most sensitive part?Ó she asked.
ÒDonÕt you know?Ó Brent replied.
ÒI like women, mostly,Ó Leslie answered. ÒBut if a man is big
enough I suppose I can get interested. I like the challenge of a big cock,
you know? Sometimes its hard to get it in me, I fuck so little with men.Ó
She kissed the underside of my loverÕs penis. ÒYes, I see how you flinch,Ó
she said. ÒYou shouldnÕt have rubbed yourself so much, sir. Now youÕre on
the brink, and IÕm not even ready yet. WeÕll start your punishment here, I
think, where youÕre most sensitive. Have you ever had it put in a vise?Ó
ÒA vise?Ó Brent gasped.
ÒYes, a vise, darling. I heard you were coming so I borrowed one this
morning from my friend. She runs a carpentry store. I have it in my purse.
IÕll set it up on the lamp table and we can put you in it so youÕll behave and
not cause any trouble.Ó She gazed at his body. ÒSuch big muscles! They
look like theyÕll rip right out of your tux! Please undress now, weÕll be
ready soon. I wouldnÕt want your tux stained or anything. Ohhh! YouÕre
dripping! DonÕt drip pre-cum on my hand, sir! IÕm a lesbian, remember?
YouÕll have to receive extra punishments for that, you naughty boy!Ó She
shook his cock, like she was shaking a hand, then turned and left. As she
walked away from him she purposely waggled her ass. ÒRemember darling,
no fucking. WeÕre lesbians! When weÕre through with you you can dispose
of your seed in Missy or Kelly.Ó
Brent was beside himself. I knew he was not the least bit
interested in having his penis punished, yet he tore off his tux like a
madman. Girls were easy for him. Missy, myself. But these lesbians,
promising to do awful things to his cock, were another matter entirely.
Like a schoolboy asked to pork the teacher after class he undressed
himself and then followed Leslie over to where she stood by the lamp
table.
Leslie had begun emptying her purse onto the lamp table. She looked
up at Brent as if he was new in the room, a new arrival and she some kind
of customs official. ÒThat side,Ó she said, pointing to the side of the lamp
table opposite her. ÒJasmineÕs decided she wants you punished at the
same time as Kelly, so you and she can watch each other. YouÕll be bonded
after this, hmmm? Partners in love, desire, and pain. It will be like
birthing children together.Ó
Brent, mesmerized, presented his big organ and waited. He watched
as Leslie set up a vise on the table top. Jasmine, meanwhile, finished
polishing up the crop and laid it across the cheeks of my bottom. It felt
smooth. I knew it would impart an entirely different feeling in just a few
moments.
ÒCan you see your lover okay?Ó Jasmine asked me. I nodded. Brent
was standing beside me, I on the seat and he on the floor, I offering my
bottom and he his penis. ÒWatch him as I whip you,Ó Jasmine said. ÒYouÕll
see his face show every emotion as we deal with his penis.Ó
ÒPlease donÕt hurt him!Ó I blurted.
ÒHeÕll be fine, darling. Just a little sore,Ó Jasmine smiled. ÒAnd
now for you, sweet. Call for the first stroke. YouÕre a big girl.Ó
My wrists had been attached to the back of my pearl choker by the
ever-helpful Kerri. My breasts offered themselves. My bottom bulbed
behind me, white-fleshed, inviting. I felt as if I were nothing but bosom
and bottom, with my shaky knees holding it all up. My tummy felt queasy.
I heard myself swallow.
ÒOne,Ó I said quietly.
ÒWhat?Ó Jasmine asked.
ÒPlease, um, spank my bottom...Ó I said, softly as I could.
ÒWell, I donÕt expect you to yell, but I donÕt expect you to talk like a
little mouse either,Ó Jasmine scolded. ÒSay it loud enough for everyone to
hear.Ó
ÒPlease spank my bottom!Ó I blurted.
ÒI have a crop,Ó she teased.
ÒPlease crop my bottom,Ó I said.
ÒYou mean you want me to hurt this precious soft pumpkin of
yours?Ó she asked. She made me flinch as she touched a finger to my
heinie.
ÒYessss,Ó I hissed. I stuck my bottom back at her, mooning her with
it, I was so tense and nervous and awkward. If it must be, then do it, for
GodÕs sake!
And she did. Jasmine drew her arm back and delivered a royal
stroke, whipping the crop into my hinds so hard I nearly toppled over the
chairback. I howled. I felt tears spring instantly to my eyes. I was off to
a difficult start, but at least it had begun. The tenseness had burst and I
heard myself screaming.
WHACK! Another blow caught me just as I regained my balance.
Kerri, whoÕd pushed me upright, using my bosoms like they were handles,
almost fell down. I keened out a howling moan. Behind me my bottom felt
like IÕd been stung by a line of wasps. It felt tight and hot and I squeezed
it inward, hoping to throw off the pain. Jasmine rewarded me with
another blow. It left a sizzling strip of fire in its wake and I shook my
ass all about, disorderly and lewd. My chubby cheeks were awash in pain.
It burned in hot lines across me and I thought I would evaporate through
my asshole. In my clenchings, sobbing and howling, I glanced to my right
and saw my lover being fitted into a vise. Carefully, with tender hands,
Leslie put BrentÕs organ into a big iron jaw. It held him at the base of his
cock, trapping him against the table. Slowly Leslie closed the vise on his
dick. When he seemed unable to escape she looked up at him with her big
doe-like eyes.
ÒStruggle, try to escape,Ó she urged. Brent, caught by only his dick,
tried to pull it from the vise. SheÕd cuffed his wrists behind him and he
quickly found that heÕd indeed gotten himself into a jam.
ÒIÕm-- IÕve never been like this before,Ó my lover gasped. He looked
down at his huge organ. It was snug in the vise and the iron jaws would
not let go.
ÒGood,Ó Leslie observed. She tickled the underside of his cockhead
with her fingertips. ÒNow we can have a little discussion about feminism,
sir.Ó
Jasmine delivered my blows with plenty of time between strokes for
me to recover. She wanted me to be able to watch my lover and see his
defilement. After all, he had chosen to have me whipped with the crop. I
felt like I was part of some kind of bizarre marriage, where the partners
were joined by mutual suffering. Yet, with Kerri tickling my dell and
Leslie pleasuring BrentÕs penis, it was not all pain. It was a mixture, and
between my sobs I wondered if marriages, if done in this way, would last
longer than church-made ones.
Leslie began BrentÕs torment by producing a thermometer. She told
him she would take his temperature by poking it in his peehole. But first,
she wished to stuff as much of him down her throat as she possibly could.
ÒThis is an excellent way to train, donÕt you think?Ó she asked Brent.
ÒI mean, usually the man just rams it in. How can a girl learn that way?
Here, with you so nicely trapped, I can take my time. IÕm new at this so it
may take awhile.Ó She bent and began by suckling just his cockhead. Then
she worked more of him into her as she was ready. Bent over, her bottom
made a marvelous target. Jasmine turned from me a moment and whacked
her friend.
ÒYeeeeow!Ó Leslie cried. She lurched upright and clapped her hands
to her bottom. It had been a real stinger, and she hooted at the ceiling,
finally gasping and just holding her cheeks a while, massaging herself.
Brent, meanwhile, wet with her saliva, could only wait for her to comfort
herself.
ÒEr, I have to pee,Ó Brent said.
ÒUmmmm, guess youÕll have to wait,Ó Leslie told him. ÒYouÕre the
one who ordered red bottoms for us all.Ó She broke open a condom and
slipped the end of it over his cockhead. ÒThere, that should keep you from
peeing,Ó she said. Then she went to check on Missy. The girl still stood in
the corner, sobbing quietly. Her head was hung down and I imagined her
bosoms must be wet with her tears.
ÒAre you thinking about behaving?Ó Leslie asked Missy.
ÒGo Ôway! YouÕre mean!Ó Missy sobbed.
ÒWell, youÕre a cocksucker!Ó Leslie replied. MissyÕs chin rose. She
sniffled.
ÒA cocksucker?Ó she asked.
ÒYes, darling, youÕre a cocksucker and I want you to come over and
suck BrentÕs cock right now!Ó Leslie told her.
ÒOhhh, goody! Can I bite it too?Ó Missy asked. ÒHeÕs the one who
ordered me spanked, isnÕt he?Ó
ÒYes, darling,Ó Leslie replied. She untied MissyÕs wrists. ÒWe girls
would never do awful things to each other unless these evil men made us.Ó
She kissed the girlÕs cheeks. They walked hand-in-hand to the lamp table.
ÒUh, hi Missy,Ó Brent said. The girl looked at him, wide-eyed, and
then broke into giggles.
ÒYou look stupid!Ó she teased.
ÒI feel stupid,Ó Brent admitted. ÒWould you be kind enough--Ó
ÒDonÕt, Missy. HeÕs to be experimented on,Ó Leslie whispered.
ÒYes!Ó Missy agreed. But she had to stop a moment and rub her
bottom because it still hurt quite a bit from her spanking. I, meanwhile,
was being put on par with her, Jasmine whisking in another stroke to keep
my tears coming.
ÒOh, please donÕt hurt Brent!Ó I begged when I could speak coherently
again. I sniffled and held back a sob and tried not to cry. But my fanny
was really hurting now! I wished there was some way I could free my
wrists and get BrentÕs big organ out of that awful vise and escape with
him. But it was not to be, I realized, as Jasmine touched my bottom with
her fingertip, testing my temperature, she said, and making me howl. I
was afraid, I had to pee, and I couldnÕt stop wiggling my ass. Kerri delved
within my slit, making me wet. She bit my nipple, a clamp made of teeth
and tensing and relaxing at will. I was captured, caught, burning and
burnt. Jasmine gave me another whippy blow and I howled anew.
Like a trapped snake, BrentÕs penis flexed and wiggled within the
vise. He was fiercely hard. Urgently he flexed his buns, in and out and in
again. He was desperate to fuck and that, indeed, was his undoing. Had he
been gay, he might have softened, and been able to escape. But, being fully
male and full of himself with seed, he was captive to his own need, to his
own desires. All about him was nothing but firm, bouncing female bosoms
and wriggly bottoms. We were all beautiful; there was not one among us
who could not have posed for Playboy (although two of us were too young!)
Brent seethed with passion and, as a result, he was forced to stand
trapped and watch as Leslie and Missy laid evil plans for his penis.
Missy picked up the sugar thermometer. It was a slim glass
thermometer, like mommies used to take a sick childÕs temperature.
Leslie had stuck a big rubber stopper on the back end of it to prevent it
getting lost inside BrentÕs huge male organ.
ÒNow Missy, I want you to be the mommie,Ó Leslie, nurse-like,
instructed her little friend.
ÒOkay,Ó Missy murmured.
ÒI have been thinking, mommie, that our friend Brent here must have
something wrong with him. Look how big and swollen his penis has
become!Ó
ÒOh, why yes! I donÕt remember boys looking like this in my anatomy
textbook!Ó Missy observed.
ÒAnd see how he shakes--he is practically foaming at the mouth!Ó
Leslie continued.
ÒMmmm, he must need his temperature taken!Ó Missy concluded.
ÒIndeed! But he is SO big and fierce! I wouldnÕt dare try to stick our
little thermometer into his big mouth, would you?Ó Leslie asked.
ÒOh, no! He would bite it in two! Or heÕd misbehave and not hold it in
his mouth like heÕs supposed to for a full three minutes!Ó Missy agreed.
ÒThen we must find some other hole to stick in it, Missy,Ó Leslie
mused. Her fingers passed lovingly along BrentÕs giant organ, caressing
the shaft and circling the head and finally touching his pee hole. ÒMy,
hereÕs a hole!Ó Leslie said happily. ÒWe can put it right in here, Missy,
unless youÕd rather stick it up his hairy butt?Ó
ÒOh no,Ó Missy said. ÒLook how Brent is flexing his ass! If we put
this fragile sugar thermometer up his ass heÕd break it in two, just by
squeezing it with his iron-hard cheeks!Ó
ÒWell, then we must slip it into this little hole,Ó Leslie reasoned.
ÒYes, his pee hole should be okay,Ó Missy agreed. She reached out
and touched his penis with her fingertips. It flexed, and she drew her hand
back, frightened a little, I think. Brent truly did have a penis that looked
like a venomous snake. Then, regaining her courage, Missy poked at Brent
with her thermometer. There was no need to grease it. BrentÕs cockhead
was leaking gobs of precum. Leslie slipped a lace doily under the head of
his penis to try to catch some of the drips. The lamp table was made of
precious hardwood. There was no need to stain it.
ÒOoops! There it goes!Ó Missy said. Brent watched with love-filled,
horror-stricken eyes as the girl poked her thermometer into his cock. Its
tip slid into his pee hole and the rest quickly followed, gliding up inside
him like a needle.
ÒWe must leave it there for at least three minutes,Ó Leslie told
Missy.
ÒOkay,Ó the girl replied. She let go of the thermometer. Its end
stuck out of BrentÕs penis.
ÒNow, letÕs assume he has a temperature. What shall we do?Ó Leslie
asked Missy.
ÒHmmm, IÕm the mommie, but I donÕt know. Please tell me, nurse
Leslie.Ó
ÒWell, I have here some Binaca Breath Spray,Ó Leslie said. ÒWould
you like to see a trick?Ó
ÒOkay,Ó Missy said. Leslie picked up a Bic lighter and flicked on it
flame. Holding the Binaca next to it, she depressed the head of the Binaca
and flame shot out of its pin-like hole!Ó
ÒYIKES!Ó Missy howled. She leapt back from Leslie. The Binaca had
been turned into a miniature flame-thrower! Leslie drew closer to Brent
and squirted the Binaca again. More flames shot from its tip.
ÒDonÕt!Ó Brent gasped.
ÒYou donÕt want your hot dog roasted?Ó Leslie asked.
ÒNo,Ó Brent breathed.
ÒWow! ThatÕs some trick!Ó Missy said. ÒIf IÕm ever bothered by boys
IÕm going to use it on them!Ó
ÒIt works even better with WD-40,Ó Leslie said.
ÒDonÕt get stupid on me,Ó Brent declared. His chest expanded and he
glowered down at the girls. ÒThat Binaca could explode right in your
face!Ó
ÒYes, daddy,Ó Leslie said.
ÒDaddyÕs right,Ó Missy agreed.
ÒIÕm glad our big DaddyÕs here to tell us when weÕre being truly bad,Ó
Leslie said to Missy.
ÒHeÕs just trying to protect us. LetÕs not play with the Binaca
anymore,Ó Missy said.
ÒWell, I wonÕt make it into a flamethrower, thatÕs for sure. ItÕs
silly, anyway,Ó Leslie said. ÒBinaca is meant to soothe and cool your
throat. It can make your temperature go down if its used properly, did you
know that?Ó Leslie asked.
ÒNoooo,Ó Missy said. ÒMaybe Brent needs some on his penis?Ó
ÒYes, that would be a good idea,Ó Leslie said. ÒI canÕt find
Peppermint in my purse. I hope this Spearmint flavor works just as well.Ó
ÒWell, letÕs try it,Ó Missy said.
IÕd had a little experience with Binaca (not as a flamethrower!) and I
knew Brent was in for a painful experience.
ÒOh, please donÕt squirt Binaca on his dick!Ó I begged. Tears ran
down my cheeks and I squirmed as I stood flat-footed in my chair. Kerri,
who had licked my honey-coated nipples clean, was now tonguing in my
belly button, cleaning my tummy of honey and chocolate drips. Her fingers
probed my slit and tickled my clitty. I was hungry to mount Brent and
didnÕt want to see his glorious penis abused.
Leslie turned to me and laughed. ÒYouÕre in no position to give
orders,Ó she said.
ÒBut BrentÕs MY boyfriend!Ó I sobbed. I really did love his penis. She
was a lesbian!
ÒHe may be your boyfriend, but WE own his dick,Ó Missy said. She
was forever a brat, always finding some way to taunt me, to ruin my lunch
with Brent, to keep his attention on the limo ride back, and now to prance
around him, Indian-like, playing naughty games with his penis.
I heard a little spraying sound and Brent groaned. As if he were in
need of perfume, Leslie began squirting Binaca all over his cock. The head,
its tip and its flange, the shaft, all over the many veins that ran through
it, and along the underside, the most sensitive part of any manÕs penis,
especially where the shaft met the head.
ÒMmmm, wow. Whoa, that stings!Ó Brent shouted, as the sprayed-on
Binaca transformed itself into a stinging, biting gloss. ÒYeeech! That is
REALLY stinging now! Wipe it off!Ó Brent begged.
Leslie touched the tip of his cock with her finger, just underneath
where the sugar thermometer poked in his peehole. ÒYouÕre being prepared
for surgery, sir. You need to be circumcised,Ó Leslie said.
ÒI already AM circumcised!Ó Brent howled. He tossed his head back
as the Binaca worked its will on his dick. He was used to whipping out his
dick and plunging it into a girlÕs soft pussy. Never, I think, had he been
clamped and presented in this way, made to wait and to suffer and to
admire his hardness even as girls played tricks on it. Was he proud of his
manliness? I knew, deep down, he must be. Despite the Binaca, or the
awful thermometer. We were just girls. He alone possessed a penis. All
of us stared at it like children, aware of it every moment, of its hugeness,
its power, and its potential for spurting at any moment, of flooding the
room with the scent of male seed released, into this parlor where,
without Brent, we would just be girls having a tea party.
The stinging gradually transformed itself into a rich, warm glow.
Brent gazed anew at his cock, watching it, looking at it, feeling the
strangeness of having it bathed in breath spray. ÒWow, thatÕs some shit,Ó
he grunted.
ÒWait til you feel it on your balls, love. It stings quite awfully
there, IÕm told by men, much worse than on their penises,Ó Leslie said.
She bent down and reached underneath BrentÕs shaft. She eased her hand
back until she was between his thighs. He could have shifted his legs
closed and crushed her hand, but he left them open. He felt bold.
ÒReady?Ó Leslie asked.
ÒDamn, now youÕve got me curious,Ó Brent said.
ÒBe a man,Ó Leslie warned. She sprayed. Brent waited, then felt a
sudden, prickly stinging on his balls, grimacing, baring his teeth at the
pain. Leslie looked up at him. ÒItÕs just breath spray, darling. Keep your
legs apart.Ó
ÒUnnngh!Ó was all Brent could manage to say in reply. But,
courageously, he kept his thighs open. Leslie squirted him again, on
another part of his balls. Then in a third place and a fourth, until his big
hanging testicles were gleaming with Peppermint spray. Missy had found
the Peppermint in LeslieÕs purse. They agreed that was the better choice;
it was reputed to sting more than any of BinacaÕs other flavors.
ÒHow does that feel?Ó Leslie asked Brent. She withdrew her hand
from under his balls and gently stroked his big prick. Brent tossed his
head and clamped his jaw.
ÒIt feels... terrible...Ó Brent breathed.
ÒWell, youÕre getting it shot up your butthole next,Ó Leslie said.
ÒGod, NO!Ó Brent begged.
ÒPoor boy, if youÕd shoot you might escape from my vise,Ó Leslie
offered.
ÒStroke me! Make me cum, please! IÕve suffered enough, you bitch!Ó
Brent told her.
ÒMy, such naughty language. I do declare he sounds like heÕs talking
out his butthole when he speaks like that!Ó Leslie said to Missy. ÒHere,
darling, which flavor do you prefer for his a-hole? Peppermint?
Spearmint? Wintergreen, or Cinnamon?Ó
ÒWhich one hurts the worst?Ó Missy asked. Four little Binaca sprays
were laid out on the hardwood table now, each tempting her fingers.
ÒProbably peppermint, although spearmintÕs almost as bad,Ó Leslie
said.
ÒWell, IÕll try Wintergreen,Ó Missy said. ÒThatÕs my favorite flavor!Ó
ÒOkay,Ó Leslie said. ÒSpray his ass and wherever else you think he
needs it. IÕm going to get some Mountain Dew for his final treatment.Ó
ÒAlright,Ó Missy replied. Leslie walked to the door of the parlor and
let herself out. It was strange, watching her leave, her hips moving with
an ethereal, jiggly motion, her legs long and walking swiftly. She looked
like a businesswoman going on break, yet she wore only a shirt and her
heels, nothing else. She had the perfect job description, I guessed: ÒTo
torture menÕs penises, especially the bossÕs. Skills needed: blowing,
sucking, knowledge of Binaca breath spray, and the ability to teach
younger girls how to do same.Ó Jasmine kept me busy with more slicing
blows to my bottom while we all waited for Leslie. KerriÕs mouth
descended to my bush and began licking up all the little droplets of honey
that had collected there. I was caught between pain and pleasure. The
pain bit into me from behind while the pleasure circling around my button
in front never gave me the satisfaction I wished. Missy, her hands free,
played with her clitty. She was no stranger to frigging herself, I guessed,
and she did it with a freedom that made me weep. I was so hungry! I
prayed God to loosen my hands and let me down from the chair and put me
on top of BrentÕs pole. But it did not happen.
ÒHmmm, itÕs kinda smelly back here!Ó Missy observed, prying apart
BrentÕs ass with her fingers. ÒThis place definitely needs some breath
spray! Take that, you big smelly a-hole! And that! And that!Ó She
squirted Binaca into BrentÕs ass.
ÒYeeoooch! Stop!Ó Brent pleaded. He flexed his hind cheeks a little,
but Missy was so small and her fingers so childish, I think he feared
injuring her. Despite the burning heat of the Binaca, he let her probe and
shoot inside him. He was a true man. ÒGod, that burns!Ó Brent gasped.
ÒWell, I suppose maybe Binaca isnÕt the best thing for lowering your
temperature after all,Ó Missy mused when sheÕd finished spraying him.
She replaced the Binaca on the table. ÒLet me see how your temperature
is, sir.Ó Gently she withdrew the thermometer. She lifted it into the air
and examined it. ÒFour hundred and Twenty-Two,Ó she pronounced
solemnly.
ÒDonÕt you know how to read a thermometer?Ó Brent asked.
ÒNope,Ó Missy replied. ÒWould you like me to stick it back into you
and try again?Ó
ÒNo,Ó Brent said. ÒThrow that thing away! And those stupid Binacas
too! I donÕt think anyoneÕs going to want to spray that in their mouth
now.Ó
ÒWhy, I do!Ó Missy said. She picked up the Peppermint, which had
been used on BrentÕs balls, and put it into her mouth and sprayed her
tongue. ÒMmmm, Peppermint Blow, with a Taste of Testicle,Ó Missy
observed. She smacked her lips. ÒLetÕs try this Spearmint! Oooh! Cock
flavor! Yum! I think IÕll skip the Wintergreen Butthole flavor, though.
Maybe Kelly would like to try it?Ó She looked at me. Jasmine gave me
another sizzling whack with her crop.
ÒKellyÕs busy right now, dear,Ó Jasmine told her. Missy looked sober
and reached back and cupped her bottom.
ÒThat whipping you gave me still hurts really bad,Ó Missy said.
ÒYes, dear, itÕs supposed to,Ó Jasmine answered. ÒGo to the
bathroom and get some carpet cleaner and spray it on the place on the rug
where you peed.Ó
ÒOkay!Ó Missy said. She ran from the room. She was a child speeding
to recess. A few minutes later she came wandering back. She held up a
can of carpet cleaner. ÒHere it is!Ó she announced. ÒI peed while I was in
the bathroom, so I donÕt go on the carpet any more!Ó She walked over to
where sheÕd had her accident and sprayed a generous pile of foam on the
rug.
ÒNow go put it back, dear. I donÕt want you spraying carpet cleaner
all over everything,Ó Jasmine told her. There was a gleam in MissyÕs eyes
as she contemplated other uses the carpet cleaner might be put to.
ÒDonÕt you think Brent needs a little on his dick?Ó Missy asked.
ÒNo, darling. S&M doesnÕt mean you can just do anything. The carpet
cleaner might hurt him. Put it away, please,Ó Jasmine said, and swished
her crop in MissyÕs direction.
ÒOkay!Ó Missy declared. She arched up on her tip-toes and then leapt
for the door. She didnÕt want to feel that crop anymore, and neither did I.
ÒPlease, Jasmine!Ó I screeched. I stood with bare huddling cheeks
upon the chair, sobbing, groaning, feeling like a girl whoÕd sat in nettles. I
was beside myself with pain and pleasure and a thousand other passions.
She kissed my hiney. Her mouth was cool and moist but my bottom was so
tender that I hissed and rose up on my toes.
ÒLetÕs take her down, Kerri,Ó Jasmine said. ÒBut first I must give
her two welts to show to her friends. Ones that will last until she gets
back to L.A.Ó
ÒOhhh! I donÕt want any welts!Ó I cried.
ÒYes you do, dear. YouÕre going to meet your girlfriends and youÕre
going to want to tell them all about your adventures. And they wonÕt
believe you, of course. Unless, that is, I give you a little trophy to take
with you. When you bend over and yank your jeans down for them, and they
see your marks, then theyÕll belive. Here goes!Ó She swatted me hard,
slicing right into marks I already bore. I howled and jumped up on my toes
and shook my lovely delirious hinds. She struck again. My bottom churned
and my cheeks bunched and then released and then bunched together again.
Jasmine placed her hands upon my bottom. As yet her fingers bore
no oil. Just her bare slim fingers seizing and grasping my hot raw bottom.
ÒAhh, so sweet and young you are,Ó Jasmine hissed. ÒSuch a fine,
plump bottom! I love feeling the heat of the lash in it. DonÕt fight me,
dear. Let your bottom sag into my hands.Ó
I bit my lip and sank back, letting her hold me. She controlled my
squirmings with her seeking fingertips. I was hers. We were both
females but she had found a way to make me submit. I might have given
her more of my weight but Kerri held me up by my breasts. She squeezed
them as if they were gourds at market, bought to be broken open and
crushed and eaten. My nipples stuck up like little buttons and Kerri bit at
them with her teeth. I swooned. I could not stand all the feelings that
flooded me. Pain lapped at my nipples as soothing but insistent fingertips
probed the fleshy halves of my pumpkin. I gasped, lost myself. I peed on
the seat like a mare. Jasmine tutted but did not reprove me. She was all
womanly tenderness now, though her fingers sought, male-like, at my
rosette. Jasmine breathed hotly on my back. She licked me.
ÒI must have you, dear. Right in your ass. Do not deny me.Ó She
helped me down from the chair. My pee puddled in the seat. It was
forgotten, forgiven. She put me down on my knees on the floor and made
me assume a doggie position. ÒPut your face on the floor,Ó she told me. ÒI
must have that adorable ass of yours as high in the air as you can make
it.Ó
I wished for a handkerchief, a shirt, or something, under my face,
but she offered me none. With her hand she guided my head to the floor
and I was forced to press my lips to the carpet. Kissing the floor, I felt
my bottom raised high by her hands and held there. Kerri knelt beside me
on the floor and put her palms under my tummy. The air of the room felt
cool on my tushy. Knowing I was only inviting more trouble, I stuck my
hiney up and let my cheeks open to the air. It felt wonderful. My burning
ass felt its first taste of relief. But Jasmine, wicked as ever, took a dildo
from a drawer and began greasing it.
ÒThis will be shoved up your ass and then, when its right up you, IÕm
going to give you a treat!Ó Jasmine laughed. With spooky thoughts in my
brain I waited for her to ream me. Kerri tickled my clitty. She promised
to make me cum when I was full.
Jasmine parted my ass cheeks. I felt the head of the dildo knock at
my anus. I stab. I gasped. It went up inside me, hard, Jasmine pushing it.
Missy walked into the room just then. She stopped cold and her hands flew
to her bottom. She watched with big scared eyes as my fucking proceeded.
I was reamed. I was opened. When Jasmine had probed me to my
depths and stabbed me repeatedly with the dildo, she gave me a new
sensation. It was terrible. The dildo was hard but its hardness was due to
its being filled with water, I was told. Jasmine whispered its secrets in
my ears. More water could be pumped into the tail of the dildo with a
simple hand pump. Jasmine sent Missy back to the bathroom and the girl
returned with a cup of water. It was a childÕs cup; plastic and patterned
with cartoon hearts. She gave it to Jasmine. The water was poured into a
big plastic syringe. It had a rubber squeeze ball at its end, but otherwise
was just a big plastic tube, with a penis-like shaft and a small tapered
point.
Jasmine flipped open a little flap at the back of my dildo. The dildo
was stuck upright into my offered bottom, no water could escape it.
Jasmine put her syringe into the flap in the end of my dildo. Then she
squeezed the squeeze ball. More water was pumped into my dildo, and it
expanded in my ass.
I gasped. I was being widened! I tried to contract my cheeks but
Jasmine slapped my fanny and told me to keep them wide as I could. All
the while, Kerri played her fingers over my spot. My tiny clitoris hungered
for love. She promised to give it to me if only IÕd accept the widening of
my ass.
My anal ring, gripping so tightly, could not sustain the burden of the
inflowing water. It opened, opened more, stretched to the limit. I felt as
if I had a huge turd rammed up my butt. I wept on the carpet. My tears
flowed fast and freely. I kissed the floor with my lips and hoped my
bottom survived intact.
I tried to move, tried to crawl forward. The very act sent a shriek
tearing from my lungs. I was filled beyond capacity. From my butthole
into the depths of my body I now had a huge giant penis up me, hard as
nails and uncompromising to a fault. There was no escape. Jasmine
laughed. Missy squealed in horror. Kerri played with me and made me cum
again and again in her hand.
ÒGod, what are you doing to her?!Ó Leslie asked. She trotted into the
room with a 12-pack of Mountain Dew in her arms.
ÒShe must be made more accessible for her lover,Ó Jasmine said
bluntly. I cried and shook my hiney, hoping to somehow get that awful
huge prick out of me, but she showed me no mercy. She kept a finger on it
to make sure it remained completely embedded. Any movement I made,
even the slightest breath, sent a shiver of horror through me. I was rent
and broken, I was sure, by the awful thing that Jasmine had sent up my
ass, feeling it right to my belly-button and unable to escape it.
Jasmine kissed my face. She ignored my pleading, self-pitying
groans. I was her prisoner. I could do nothing. She could leave me like
this til the end of time, if she wished.
ÒWhen I send you home, I will give you a business card,Ó Jasmine
told me. Her words purred into my ears. ÒIt is the name of a man. He will
treat you much crueler than I can, or than Brent ever would. Much crueler.
He is utterly demanding. He allows a girl no rest, no reprieve. He trained
me and I suffered much at his hands. I can only start you down the path
tonight that he will take you on. But you must call him. Tell him your age.
He accepts no one over eighteen. When he gives you his address, and you go
to him, you must take a whip along. It is the only way. He will not accept
you if you forget it. And you cannot come again, only once, and you must
do it properly, just as he says, bringing the whip with you.Ó
ÒWhere--where would I get a whip?Ó I asked through my tears. I
knew where to buy CDÕs in L.A., but not whips!
ÒAny store that sells things for horses will have them,Ó Jasmine
whispered. ÒI will not give you one. You must go and buy it yourself. Pick
it out, present it at the counter. Yes, Kelly! It is that bad! He is that
bad!Ó
I came again, into KerriÕs seeking fingertips. I was all honey now,
my moistness filling my empty cunt, my thighs wet and loved and caressed
and parted and delved between. Jasmine stroked the plump cheeks of my
bottom and began easing out the hard dildo. She drew some water back
into the syringe so the dildo could move in my bottom. I felt it slide
slickly back, slowly, so as not to hurt me and also to let me have the feel
of it, the penetrating effect of it as it let me go only ever so slowly. At
last, gleaming with the juices of my well-oiled ass, it was removed.
Jasmine laughed and set it aside on the carpet. I felt open. I felt
remorseful. In my relief, crazily, I wanted the dildo back. And I wanted
Brent where the dildo had not gone, in my cunt.
ÒStand up, girl,Ó Jasmine told me. She and Kerri hauled me to my
feet. I stood dizzily. I palmed my poor ass with my hands. It was hurt, it
was pried apart and then left to dream of past penetrations, wishing for
more. ÒCome, we must give Brent his final treatment,Ó Jasmine said.
Happily she led me over to my lover so I could watch his destruction.
Brent was hard as a rock. His penis looked like one of those stone
phalluses in Fiji. Yet, soon, it would all be over. He would be made to cum
and cum in buckets until he was soft and withdrawn. I stared at him.
ÒHi,Ó I breathed.
ÒYou took quite a dildo up that fat little ass of yours,Ó he said.
I touched his cock with my finger. ÒYouÕre going to be small soon,Ó I
told him.
ÒI know,Ó he answered.
ÒOkay, letÕs do it,Ó Leslie said. She freed his cock from the vise.
Brent let her handle him. He did not resist. He was beyond resisting. He
quavered in her small palms, his organ hard but wanting to lose itself
now, to let its seed spring forth and be gone. He no longer cared whether
he shot in or out of a girl. He wanted to be rid of his tormenting seed.
ÒBrent, I know you want to cum, but try to hold it,Ó Leslie told him.
ÒI would really like to see you pork one of us, even if you donÕt care.Ó
ÒOkay,Ó Brent gasped. ÒJust finish this game of yours. IÕve got to
pee badly.Ó
Leslie turned her head and looked at Jasmine. ÒItÕs okay if he pees
now, isnÕt he?Ó
ÒYes, let him. I want him thinking of nothing but his hardness and
his sperm,Ó Jasmine agreed.
ÒWhich one of us do you want to pee on?Ó Leslie asked Brent.
ÒWhich--?Ó he asked, stunned.
ÒYes, pick your favorite pee partner. You may just go on her. DonÕt
worry about the carpet. WeÕve spilled a little pee on it already, IÕm afraid.
Now itÕs your turn to go. Which of us do you like the best?Ó
ÒMissy,Ó Brent answered firmly.
ÒBrent!Ó I shouted. Missy hollared that she did not want to be peed
on.
ÒIÕm sorry,Ó he told me. ÒI like you, but I canÕt get enough of Missy.
Bring her over here, ladies! IÕm going to pee right on that cute belly of
hers!Ó
ÒNoooo! I donÕt want him wetting on me!Ó Missy cried, but Jasmine
and Leslie brought her over to him. Brent presented her with his cock. He
aimed so that his penis would go on her belly button.
ÒWell? LetÕs see it!Ó Leslie told Brent. She tickled the underside of
his cock. A minute passed. Then another.
ÒI, I canÕt!Ó Brent gasped. Leslie bent and kissed his shaft.
Suddenly, as her lips mouthed him wetly, BrentÕs cockhead exploded with
pee. It arced across the space between himself and Missy, falling, and
splattered on her belly. Missy howled her disapproval but Jasmine and
Kerri, laughing, held her tight between them. Droplets of pee hit them as
BrentÕs powerful stream gushed onto MissyÕs tummy.
Too soon, he was spent. He had no more pee to give. Missy stood
sobbing, pee running down her belly, nesting in her pubic curls, trickling
down to her cuntlips and dripping to the floor.
Leslie popped open a can of Mountain Dew. Quickly she poured it into
a dark green Tiffany glass. Coca-Cola was stamped on the side of the
glass, molded into the glass itself. I watched as the foaming bubbles of
Mountain Dew rose up to the hand-blown lettering and then beyond, right
to the rim of the glass.
I was urged to take hold of BrentÕs penis. ÒGrab the shaft, point him
toward the floor,Ó Leslie told me. I did as she asked. My fingers barely fit
around him, but I managed it, and then held him down, with difficulty, so
that he could be put into the glass.
Leslie brought the glass of soda water under his dick. She lifted the
glass, sinking BrentÕs cock into the brimming soda. Brent shouted as his
penis, already coated with Spearmint Binaca, was plunged into the
bubbling soda. His arms, bound behind him, ensured he would not resist.
He might have run, or course, or dodged away, but he stood his ground,
bravely, and watched as his cock was defiled.
ItÕs amazing what a glass of bubbling soda can do. IÕm told it burns,
the bubbles exploding against a manÕs cock and causing him true pinpricks
of pain. ÒYahoooo! Mountain Dew!Ó Leslie cried, and Brent was forced to
join in, watching his own cockÕs denouement. I held him in the glass,
despite his flexing attempts to lift himself out of it. I made him take it
all.
When at last Brent surfaced, we took his dripping cock and stuffed it
deep into Mindy. She shouted as she was forced upon him. He was big, she
was nothing if not small. They merged like fire and water, sizzling,
hungry but dueling, she a captive between Jasmine and Kerri, he guided by
my own hands.
It took a long time to work Brent fully into Missy. She was too
young for him, really, but we made her take him anyway. She must learn
sometime, Jasmine said. She cannot just play little games forever.
Remorsefully, but wanting to see my friend fucked, I deflowered her with
my lover. Her blood stained the carpet. Jasmine said she would save the
stain as a memory of little MissyÕs virginity. It was gone now. She was
impaled on him. We rammed Brent into her belly again and again. When
Brent was fully lodged, deep in her womb, I put my hands under his balls. I
lifted them and I squeezed them hard.
ÒGive her your sperm,Ó I said in a hushed voice. ÒGo ahead, I donÕt
mind. SheÕs my friend. ItÕs my gift to her.Ó
ÒYessss,Ó Brent gritted. He tried to fight his need but it exploded
suddenly from him. Missy wept and shivered upon his huge cock. We made
her take every last drop of him.
ÒYou have been a good girl, Missy,Ó Jasmine whispered. She kissed
the girl when it was over. We lifted her off Brent. We took her from the
room and walked her back to the West Wing. When we arrived, the DAs
were gone. We tucked her into my bed. I slipped in after her, I was so
exhausted.
Kerri remained in my room with me. The others left. They went
back to Brent. I was past loving him now. I loved myself instead. I lay in
bed kissing Missy, not because I liked her but because she was there, and I
wanted her softness against mine. She did not matter, only the pillowy
softness of her breasts did, her little gasps, her rising and falling tummy.
I felt womanly and I wanted to be a woman with her, the two of us
survivors, suffering together and passing through fire.
Kerri pampered my bottom. She soothed lotion all over it. I felt
loved, needed. I cared no more about Brent. I would leave in the morning, I
told myself. Back to L.A. and the things I knew. IÕd had enough adventures,
for now. IÕd grown up a little more. I yearned for familiar things, not
whips or chains or huge phalluses, but simple dresses, and homework, and
sensitive, gentle teachers.
30
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