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Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
OFFICE SLAVE
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Chapter Two
Veronica's bottom was still smarting when she sat down to dinner
that evening. Her husband noticed her squirm as she seated herself at the
kitchen table.
"Something the matter, dear?" her husband, named Benjamin, asked.
He looked up from a mound of computer printouts he had plopped by his
place. He adjusted the spectacles on his nose.
"Er, no, have some broccoli spears," Veronica urged.
"I already have some, dear," Benjamin replied. He squinted at his
wife, then returned his eyes to the accounts receivable listed on his
printouts. "Tch, Mortimer's behind again in his payments. I'll have to
notify the collection agency. Some people are just totally irresponsible,"
Benjamin tutted.
Veronica had received the parcel from Robert that afternoon. After
having worn a skimpy bikini for his pleasure that morning, she had
wondered what could be more outrageous than that. She had
underestimated Robert. Inside the parcel had been nothing but several
leather straps. Bondage gear. Nothing else. No blouse, no skirt, not even a
t-shirt.
"Dear, the baby's crying," Benjamin whined. Veronica's unsettled
reverie was broken. "Is something wrong dear?" Benjamin asked as
Veronica pushed back an errant strand of hair from her forehead and
reached across to quiet the baby.
"No, no," Veronica said softly. The baby had managed to knock over
her milk, fling her food onto her brother, and shit in her pants, all in the
space of 30 seconds. Veronica longed to leave behind this world with all
its responsibilities. She wished to be pampered by Robert. But Robert
seemed to have a taste for pain as well as pleasure. Veronica wriggled
her bottom once more. The last pangs of pain were fading now, but she
suspected that she would get more tomorrow.
The next morning Veronica dumped off the children at the day care
center and hurried home to dress for Robert. As she drove, hurrying to be
ready for him when he came, she wondered if she should continue the
relationship. Bondage straps. That was pretty heavy. Yet she had to
escape this domestic Hell she had married into. And having a fling with
the man next door was no way out. Only Robert had the financial
wherewithal to sweep her up and carry her away to new worlds. Of
course, she was very pretty, she knew that. She could meet other men.
But, somehow, Robert held a special allure for her. He was so charming,
so debonair, and yet underneath his European-style sophistication she
sensed a certain Nazi-like resolve. A tremendous will to dominate and be
obeyed.
At home Veronica stripped completely naked, save for earrings and
heels. Once more she unwrapped the paper of Robert's parcel. Inside was
a velvet pouch, and that opened wide to reveal the leather straps inside.
Veronica pulled out the first and held it up. The leather was black, soft,
and supple. From it dangled several heavy brass rings. Veronica had never
worn such a thing before. She flipped the thick strap over and read, in
primly stamped yellow letters printed on the inside of the strap,
"waistbelt." Veronica looped the belt around her waist and pulled it tight.
She buckled it.
Next Veronica drew out two straps that were each labelled on their
insides, "wrist cuffs." She wrapped them round her wrists and buckled
them. Ankle cuffs followed, and she caught a glimpse of her round
derriere as she bent over to secure each of her ankles in turn with the
leather anklets. Then she found two more straps, each of which was to be
looped just above her knees. Finally Veronica pulled out a thick leather
collar. She stepped up to the mirror and buckled this in place about her
neck. Her golden earrings glinted at her as she worked. When the collar
was in place she glanced down at her pumps. They too were of gold,
matching her earrings and the yellow of the brass rings. Each had a hole
cut in the front where several of her toes peeped through. At her ankle
each pump was secured with a slim strap that circled the base of her leg,
just above her foot.
Veronica checked her lipstick. Then, ever so lightly, she powdered
her face. There was little left to do save to put on her mink. She did so,
and then swirled admiringly before her mirror. Soon her own eyes would
not be the only ones upon her.
There was a knock at the front door. Veronica opened it to find
Robert's chauffeur waiting for her. She let herself out the house and
turned and followed the chauffeur. Her heels clicked on the front walk as
she strode regally toward Robert's limo. No longer was she a mere
housewife, or even a humble job-seeker hoping for work. Now she was,
well? What? A companion to Robert. Yes, that was it. The words "love
slave" beckoned to be used but she shooed them away.
Inside the limo Veronica was immediately wrapped in wealth and
luxury. Robert was there, idly watching a British cricket match on
television. Veronica was given a glass of expensive wine and a slice of
cheese. Robert complimented her on her appearance.
Robert's private club was gained a few minutes later, and he
escorted Veronica into a small restaurant for lunch. Veronica swished
passed elegantly dressed ladies as she and Robert were led to a table.
Despite the beauty of many of the other females present, she felt men's
eyes on her. Was she prettier than the men's companions, or just a new
conquest that they lusted to pursue? Veronica sat down somewhat self-
consciously. If only the other guests knew what she was wearing
underneath her mink! Were there any other "companions" present who were
utterly naked, clothed only in leather restraints?
The conversation which took place between herself and Robert over
lunch was of the utmost propriety. The meal itself consisted of pink
salmon, with a side of caviar. Of course, Robert took care of the bill.
Afterward they took a walk in a secluded wood behind the club.
"This is a birch tree," Robert announced as their private walk
happened upon a stand of white trees with peeling bark. "The Victorians
used its branches for disciplinary purposes."
"How interesting," Veronica said softly. She lifted a hand and ran
her fingertips along one of the tree's branches. It was late winter and the
branches were still bare. Little buds festooned each branch. Robert drew
a pearl-handled pocket knife from his coat. Delicately Veronica accepted
it into both her cupped palms.
"Pick your favorite branch and cut it down for me," Robert
commanded.
"Have I done something wrong?" Veronica asked wide-eyed, gazing up
at Robert, the knife poised precariously in her uplifted palms.
"No, my dear, but you will if you do not do as I say," Robert said,
indicating the tree.
"I hate knives," Veronica said, nonetheless lifting the instrument to
a branch.
"You need only use it for a moment," Robert replied reassuringly.
"I'm going to cut a little one," Veronica warned.
"That will be sufficient for my purposes," Robert said. Veronica
examined the closest branches a moment then, standing on tiptoe, she
sawed away at a branch. Veronica dropped back onto her heels. Her branch
was still resolutely attached to the tree, but she had managed to put a
deep cut through most of it. Robert stepped forward and snapped the
branch off the tree. "Yes, that will do," Robert smiled. The branch was
about 18 inches in length. Several twigs sprouted from its sides. Robert
retrieved his knife from Veronica and put it away. Then he took Veronica
by the hand, his other hand clasping their newly cut rod. He escorted her
out of the woods and back to his car.
A stiff wind was rustling the tree tops by the time they regained the
limo. Several dry brown leaves, somehow left over from the fall, scuttled
across the parking lot toward some unknown fate. Veronica shivered. The
lot was nearly empty now. The businessmen and their escorts had
returned to their afternoon office duties, or some other less (perhaps
more) demanding pursuits. Two lone gardeners puttered about a hedge in
the distance, their backs turned.
"May I have your coat?" Roger asked with a gallant air as Veronica
made to step into the limo. She looked up, startled. They were on the far
side of the limo. On its opposite side lay the club, behind them an open
field running alongside the edge of the wood. Nobody seemed to be
watching. Silently, Veronica let Robert take her mink by the shoulders.
She slipped out of it and directly into the waiting confines of the limo.
Veronica gasped as she sat down on the silk covered back seat of the
limo. There was another female here! She was blonde and willowy, with
large eyes that regarded Veronica with compassion. "Hi, I'm Melanie," the
blonde said, extending a slim hand. Veronica took it mutely, limply. "I'm
here to help you with your ordeal," Melanie said brightly.
The housewife turned "companion" spun about on her bottom. Robert
plunked down beside her. He regarded her shock with a look of hurt
surprise. "Robert!" Veronica blurted.
"There, there, little darling," Robert said. He lifted a hand and
stroked Veronica's blonde tresses. "You look very nice in your straps." He
extended his other hand to her waist and tugged at the leather belt buckled
round her waist. "Nice and tight, too." The engine of the limo sprang to
life and the car made for the driveway leading away from the club.
Veronica looked back at Melanie. "You have pretty pubic hair,"
Melanie remarked admiringly. She extended two fingers, as if to stroke a
mink, and roved them fleetingly through the fleece twixt Veronica's
thighs.
"Robert," I want to go home," Veronica said, turning her head once
more toward him. Melanie's fingers grazed her labia lips, threatening to
indulge themselves with an exploration between. Instinctively Veronica
pressed her thighs together.
"Owww," Melanie whined. Her long nailed fingers were trapped.
"What did I tell you yesterday?" Robert asked Veronica. His hand
came to her chin, lifting it. "That you are always to keep your legs open,
hmm?" Hesitantly, wordlessly, Veronica let her thighs part.
"That's better," Robert said. He dropped his hand and nudged
Melanie's aside. Deftly he pressed a finger at the juncture of Veronica's
labia lips until they gave way to admit him entry. Melanie, meanwhile,
contented herself with stroking the inside of Veronica's thigh.
Veronica tensed as Robert inserted his finger up to the first knuckle.
"Relax," Robert said soothingly.
"Please Robert, I've had enough," Veronica pleaded.
"But I haven't," Robert replied simply. Veronica trembled under his
exploration of her innermost being. Suddenly she was not so comfortable
about her fling with this man who was, still, a virtual stranger. And who
was this girl beside her? So sure, so natural, so self-confident. What had
she faced and overcome that made her so easygoing? Veronica glanced at
her once more. Melanie was dressed in a black lycra dress. It was black.
Its hemline rode the tops of her thighs, leaving the space between her
parted thighs totally visible. Lacy black panties could be seen. Coming
out from underneath the bottom of the dress were frilly black garters.
They were attached to black thigh-high hose. The girl looked like a whore,
yet her demeanor was undeniably sweet and innocent.
Melanie's large breasts shifted beneath her dress with her every
movement. She obviously wore no bra. Her dress was without sleeves,
leaving her shoulders bare. It was cut in a V in front, exposing the fine
white skin of her upper chest. Along her collarbone lay a heavy
ornamental silver chain.
"Robert, I insist you take me home!" Veronica demanded, turning her
head to him once more and mustering her angriest, bitchiest voice. Robert
simply pulled his finger out of her pussy. He lifted his hand. Melanie
leaned across Veronica's lap and sucked Robert's finger into her mouth.
Veronica was shocked! The girl was tasting her pussy juice! She had
never even met the girl before, and already the girl was sampling the love
mucus of her most private place!
"Mmm!" Melanie chirped, drawing back from Robert's finger. Robert
then reached out and picked up a bottle of seltzer water. He placed it in
Veronica's small hands.
"Here," Robert said to Veronica. "You can be our bar girl. Melanie,
would you like a Scotch and water?"
"If you're having one, sir," Melanie piped up.
"Two scotch and waters, girl," Robert said imperiously to Veronica.
Outside, beyond the smoked glass of the limo, a playground passed by.
Veronica felt angry, guilty. In two hours her children would be released
from the pre-school. Would she be there to pick them up? Sullenly she
leaned forward toward a small wood-panelled cabinet. Two heavy glasses
were perched atop it. She opened a door set in the cabinet. Inside was a
bucket of ice. Using silver tongs, she plunked several cubes into each of
the glasses. Then she picked up a bottle of Johnnie Walker. She tried, but
could not get it open. Robert took the bottle from her, opened it, and then
handed it back. Veronica filled each of the glasses half full. As she
poured the fiery liquid she was aware of Robert's eyes on her bare,
pendant breasts. Then she picked up the bottle of seltzer water from
between her thighs. She spritzed each of the glasses until it was full.
Then, grasping each glass, she sat up straight and handed each one off to
the person on either side of her.
"Thank you," Robert and Melanie each chimed. They sipped their
scotches. Veronica felt a flush of embarrassment. Here she was, naked
save for bondage straps, serving Robert and his teenage whore like some
debased servant! As she sulked an idea formed in her mind. A grim smile
spread across her face. Revenge was possible, even for a mere unarmed
tart like herself.
Softly, gently, Veronica leaned over Robert's lap. Murmuring
appreciatively, she unzipped his fly. Robert looked down at his lap with an
air of satisfaction. He supped upon his drink. Veronica withdrew her
hands and grabbed the bottle of seltzer water between her legs. She lifted
it and, before Robert could even think to respond, she let loose with a
vigorous spray of the bottled water straight into Robert's crotch.
Robert nearly jumped out of his pants as the cold water doused his
shorts. Veronica let out a war whoop, spraying continuously until her
bottle was half empty. Then she fell back against the silk covered seat,
laughing hysterically.
"God damn!" Robert swore. "I was going to take you to a masked ball,
and now look what you've done!" Veronica turned. Her work was not yet
done.
"Please! Not me!" Melanie screeched. "Please don't get my panties
wet!"
"This will teach you not to wear such short dresses!" Veronica
howled, and fired the pressurized water straight into Melanie's panty-
sheathed pussy. Melanie sat straight up, nearly popping right out of her
dress. Drink still in hand, she watched with wide, shocked eyes as
Veronica emptied her bottle between her thighs.
"That was uncalled for," Robert said when Veronica had disarmed
herself by emptying her bottle. Yet he seemed not entirely displeased.
"You will most surely be punished for that." Veronica grabbed for the
birch rod which lay just beyond his legs.
"I knew this thing would come in handy!" Veronica screamed happily,
beating Robert to his own rod. She picked up the swishy birch and began
lashing it across Robert's lap. Fortunately for Robert, his penis and balls
were still inside his underpants.
Robert seized Veronica's wrist and stilled it. She screamed her
defiance as, slowly, he prised her fingers open and extracted the rod. He
passed it over her to Melanie. Veronica groped for the rod as she watched
it fall into the hands of the rival female. Then Robert grasped Veronica's
other wrist and pulled her over his lap. Veronica felt her bottom lifted
from the seat and bared to the cool air of the limo as her tummy was
pressed down upon Robert's thighs. "Six," Robert commanded Melanie.
With an awkward look on her face, but nonetheless appearing very
determined, Melanie whacked Veronica's heinie.
"Yeeeow!" Veronica screeched as what felt like a swarm of bees lit
into her behind. Again the rod struck, and again she lurched on Robert's
lap. Twice more the rod fell, and Veronica began sobbing. Her poor bottom
felt as if it were on fire!
"Enough," Robert announced, staying Melanie's hand.
"But you said six!" Melanie protested, the birch raised over her head
in preparation for another strike.
"She must be brought to it slowly-" Robert began.
"No!" Veronica gasped. "Please-beat me like a woman, not like a
little girl. Make a woman of me!" A slow smile spread over Robert's face.
Softly he placed his calloused palm in seeming benediction on her hot
rump. Veronica winced at his touch, more in trepidation than in pain. But
there was a pink blush on her bottom from the birch. Cherry blossoms in
bloom in the whiteness of her derriere.
"A woman?" Robert asked. Veronica bit her lip, as if to forestall a
retraction.
"Yes," Veronica breathed heavily. A little sob broke her voice as she
spoke. "I must feel pain when I birth a child, mustn't I?"
"Well, yes-I've heard that the worst thing for the baby is for a
woman to be anesthetized and laid flat on her back," Robert said.
"Mmmhmm," Veronica said. "Prepare me for that-for the pain."
"Yes," Robert said. He seemed to squirm under the pressure of a
rising erection. Melanie still held the switchy rod aloft, hoping for
permission to continue. "Having a baby is probably the most painful thing
a woman will ever endure in her lifetime," Robert said. "Much more
painful than anything a man might have to go through, wars and all. Giving
you some pain now, training you to take pain, that would indeed be
helpful."
"A girl never gets used to the pain of a good birching," Melanie
interjected, forgetting that she should not undercut the direction of the
argument if she wished to switch Veronica's bottom further. Veronica
wriggled upon Robert's lap. No doubt it was to throw off some of the pain
that had already been imparted to her bumptious bottom, but it had the
effect bringing Robert's mind to a resolution.
"Surely the pain of a whipping or a birching has its beneficent
aspects?" Robert asked Melanie, eyebrow uplifted.
"Well-" Melanie replied. She put a finger to the corner of her mouth.
The birch, uplifted, was allowed to descend a bit. Robert's eyes traveled
from her face to the crotch of her panties. Her extremely short dress did
absolutely nothing to conceal the swath of black chiffon that sheathed her
tempting pussy lips. "It is nice being the center of attention, I've learned
that," Melanie said. "And it makes me feel all sparkly--when it's over.
But the actual doing of it is horrid."
"Yet you seem more than ready to impart just such a punishment to
Veronica's bottom," Robert said with a note of reproval.
"Every girl needs a good whacking now and then," Melanie said.
"Women would be total bitches if men didn't put them in their place once
in awhile. You don't know how rotten we can be."
"Oh, I think I have an idea," Robert said with a sinister grin.
Suddenly he grasped Melanie by her slim bare shoulders.
"Robert!" Melanie screeched. In the ensuing tussle she let the birch
rod fly from her grasp. Blinking her eyes, Veronica turned on her side,
still over Robert's lap. As he wrestled with Melanie, Veronica felt her
lissome nude form, all ready in its bondage straps, urged from Robert's
knees. Veronica wound up on the floor of the limo, atop Robert's shoes,
with Melanie sprawled over his knees in her place.
Melanie's dress was already displaying the lower third of her bottom
when she landed atop Robert's knees. She continued to struggle, however,
resisting Robert as he upped her dress to the small of her back and
lowered her alluring black panties to the tops of her thighs. Like the full
moon, boldly shining forth from the dome of the sky, her white bottom
bulbed out to Robert. "Veronica!" Robert called, having to bend over his
knees to find her on the floor. "You will indeed get your wish for a
whipping, but as a true sadist it will occur at my discretion, not yours.
Now get up off that floor and prepare to administer your first birching!"
Eyes wide, Veronica scrambled upon the bench seat of the limo. She
retrieved Melanie's rod and examined it, lightly running the tips of her
fingers over the bud-covered branches. So this was what had so stingingly
reproved her bottom! She looked up to find Robert staring at her
expectantly. Her jutting, cherry tipped breasts, her flat tummy, the vee of
her firm thighs, all adorned with the straps and buckles of masochistic
submission. Over Robert's knees Melanie still put up a futile resistance.
Her movements were less frantic now, as if having accepted defeat. But
Veronica knew just one well-applied swish of the birch would bring her
back to a full-blooded frenzy.
A sudden idea seemed to seize Robert. He turned his head slightly
away from her, thought a moment, then looked back at Melanie's bottom.
"Little Melanie's bottom, bared to the birch. This calls for a celebration!"
Robert announced.
"Ohh, Robert!" Melanie cried in a pouty voice. She seemed a bit like a
wet kitten to Veronica.
"Why would you celebrate such a thing?" Veronica asked meekly. The
ways of men still seemed a mystery to her, even now. Just when she
thought she had them figured out completely, she would meet a man who
would challenge her assumptions.
"Because I've never actually had the pleasure of seeing Melanie
receive a birching," Robert said. "Oh, I've been told about it by another
man-"
"That damn Martin!" Melanie offered, unbidden, squirming her naked
cheeks as if in remembrance of whippings past. Robert looked down,
caressed her peach.
"-But never have I actually had the delight of seeing her bottom
punished with my own eyes." Robert reached out and grasped a bottle of
champagne chilling in an ice bucket. He pulled it close and popped the
cork. The cork hit the smoked glass screening their compartment from the
driver. Veronica wondered if the chauffeur heard the thump of the cork
against the partition.
Robert directed the spewing contents of the champagne bottle at
Veronica. Playfully Veronica attempted to avoid being hit, to no avail.
The white bubbles spurted all over her breasts, hitting her face at times,
running in thick foaming rivulets down her tummy to gather in her wispy
Venus delta. Veronica waved her birch rod at Robert, reminding him who
still held it.
Though the backs of Melanie's thighs had been splattered with some
of the champagne, as well as her calves, her bottom remained untouched.
The bottle of champagne settled down. Robert lifted it above Melanie's
bare pumpkin. He held it poised over the uppermost part of her bottom,
right where her bottomcrack ended and the small of her back began.
Artfully Robert began to pour. Melanie started as the liquid hit directly in
the crevice of her bottom. Gradually Robert urged the lightly stinging
bubbly down the length of her declivity, watching as it pooled between her
bumptious cheeks. "Hold still, Melanie," Robert admonished, as the girl
gave a little squirm. "I do not wish to use you to the point of injury, but I
can if you insist by disobeying." Despite the exposure of her asscrack to
the tart alcohol, Melanie stilled her jiggling hips. "Bend forward," Robert
said to Veronica. He was still pouring, but very slowly, keeping Melanie's
crack full of liquor even as the excess sluiced onto the small of her back
or ran off her pussy lips onto Robert's lap. "Bend forward and drink from
Melanie's bottom."
"What?!" Veronica gasped. Her hand flew to her chest. She held her
fingers splayed above the swell of her breasts, in all but her attire
looking like a shocked Victorian lady.
"Do it now!" Robert ordered. The liquor would not last forever.
Despite the rod she held Veronica gave a little gulp and obeyed. She knew
she would be no match for Robert if he chose to force her compliance.
With a slightly guilty look, Veronica bent forward. Hesitantly she touched
her long-nailed fingers to Melanie's jutting bottom cheeks. She spread
them slightly.
"I hope you wiped yourself well if you took a dump," Veronica
murmured to Melanie. Then she extended her tongue. Like a cat drinking
water, she began lapping at the champagne in Melanie's asscrack.
"God that's beautiful," Robert groaned. He shifted slightly, obviously
under the duress of an erection. The alcohol in Melanie's asscrack sloshed
to and fro slightly from his movement.
30
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