ATTENTION ALL LAW ENFORCEMENT PERSONNEL
This is Janet Reno. My hand is shaking again. I feel like whacking
someoneÕs hiney. It is my understanding that this newsgroup, a.s.s., is the
Armed Saviors of Society newsgroup, a law enforcement newsgroup. Very
good. I have here, below, a Òstory.Ó It not ÒParadise Lost,Ó I can assure
you. This story is proof that we need a MORAL man to lead us in 1996. We
need Bill Clinton. After all, values matter most. Right, Bill?
All quiveringly she was then, bare-bottomed, awaiting her fate. I
could almost hear her little gulps, anxious, her teats quiveringly heavily.
I wanted to run to her, to put my small hand over her bumptious bottom, to
protect it from the heavy belt that dangled in her masterÕs hand. Yet my
excitement stayed me. I was as eager as the man himself, I think, to see
this darling girl brought butt-wriggling to the heights of torment, and of
inevitable passion. He would fuck her, I knew, when her bottom was red
and her cries howling, indriving he would pierce her, spike her with his
tool. Holding her to him he would pump out his spermy essence.
Did I wish the same for myself? I felt suddenly as tremulous as this
girl, my own breasts moving up, down, up again with my every halting,
uncertain breath. In my cunny I felt a new wetness, so exquisite. I felt
empty, desperately empty, and wanted to be filled. The man, so near to
me, his cock was out, Alex. Out and rearing.
Holding AlexÕs hand I turned to him. Our palms were wet with sweat.
The room was muggy. ÒOh, Alex, would you do that to me?Ó I saw Kali
glance at Cybil. I did not know myself whether I was asking Alex if he
would be so evil, or so good to me.Ó Fascinated we watched hand in hand
as the deliciously bent over girl stood with hovering bottom, with hanging
breasts and fallen mane, before her master. My nipples were erect, my
clitty fully budded, my pubic hair stood revealed to wandering eyes. And
Alex too, beside me, stood nude as Adam. We were Adam and Eve, come
with Virgil to visit Hell, to see the penitents at their work.
The belt was drawn back. The girl must have heard its slither,
snake-like for her legs stiffened. Her knees grew taut.
THWACK! Across her bottom the belt was sweetly laid, a full, juicy
stroke, catching both her darling hemispheres, making her cry out at its
stinging touch. She bit her lip, she did not cry out as I thought she might.
Good girls must be quiet. Mommie must not hear. Sister must not be
awakened. Brother must never know (though he be, in fact, lying with his
Newton under the bedcovers, reading of such things on iNet even now).
Manfully ÒMasterÓ (I knew not what else to call him) drew back his
belt. He was a fisherman, reeling in his rod for the next fling.
SWAAACK! A harder stroke. Deeply it impressed itself into the
girlÕs cheeks. She wiggled, her perturbation increasing now.
ÒKeep still, your legs wide!Ó the woman instructed. Her words were
toneless, words of impeccable command. They neither chastised nor
reproved. They merely expected. She would behave. She would do as she
was told. She would receive her punishment, which I knew to be richly
UNdeserved.
ÒOhhh, it hurts!Ó my heroine, my young companion, fellow-traveler in
love whined.
ÒOf course it does, darling, as it should. Thou shalt not commit
adultery.Ó
WHACKCK! A double salute flamed across the girlÕs upturned ass
then, cheek juddering. Zeus blinding a slim, full-bottomed Earth with his
bolts.
ÒWhooo-ooooh!Ó the girl cried out. Her bottom rolled, gyrated. She
could not still its motions now. Round and round she ground it, reminding
me of little Becky in the yard, wilfully moving her little ass so sexily.
ÒTell me that you will never try to have my husband again,Ó the
woman called out to the girl. There was silence, despite the girlÕs obvious
agony. She coughed, she bit her lip, she sobbed out little sobs. But she did
not say should would not tempt the very man who now reproved her. ÒYou
may have others,Ó the woman said to the girl. ÒWhy do you think we
brought you here? Do you think I want a sex-starved slut inhabiting my
husbandÕs office? Do not worry, my dear, I will see that you get your fill
of cock, just not my husbandÕs that is all. Is that agreeable to you?Ó
ÒNoooo,Ó the girl sighed, sobbed.
ÒGive her harder blows,Ó the woman told her husband. ÒShe is
utterly wilful. She would destroy our marriage and run off with you and
make you her very own. Show me your love by whipping this girlÕs bottom
properly!Ó
ÒYes,Ó the man agreed. But there was a smile on his face, and his
wifeÕs. They were co-conspirators, I thought, playing out an elaborate
game. I could see that the man was delighted at the girlÕs faithfulness to
him. If anything, her suffering for him was making their bond stronger.
He measured out his belt again, weighed it in his palm. Then he drew back
and fired in a ghastly blow, making me lift my hand in fright. The belt
swung in, fast. It caught the poor girl on the undersides of her quivering
hinds. It lifted her up on her toes even as it thundered with a clap across
her tenderest portions.
ÒAaaaaaa!Ó the girl screamed. Her voice echoed throughout Hell,
rousing even the slumbering Indians, staying the hand of the butt-whipping
domme in the far distance, her own victim weeping.
Up leapt our own pretty girl, dancing on her tip-toes now, forgetting
her posture. I clapped my free hand to my cunt and squeezed it, wondering
if a ripple in the belt had stung her pouch. Alex grabbed his cock and
frigged himself freely, desperately. The girl herself clapped her hands to
her ripe bottom. Briskly she rubbed it, trying to ease the sting. Her
titties wobbled on her chest, stiff-nippled. Her skinny legs hopped about,
knees bending, lovely thighs arching, calves stomping the floor with her
pretty spiked feet. I watched her ribs as they indented themselves into
her skin. She was lovely as a model, and suffering so sweetly. I did not
know I had such thoughts in me. Perhaps it was my surroundings. ÒHell
does that to you, dear,Ó Cybil might tell me. I found my cunny moist and
fingered myself shamefacedly. Beside me Alex spouted a tribute to the
delicious maidenÕs torment.
She turned. She made to take off her blindfold but the woman was
upon her, bending her over again, facing her away from us once more. I
looked at Alex, down at the floor. There, spilt on the stone, was his
manhood. A small white puddle, all goopy, lost sons, daughters.
ÒAlex!Ó I heard Cybil cry. Kali was upon him. I took my hand from
my dell and stared at him. We were peevish. He had spoilt our fun.
ÒIt was only the first load,Ó Alex explained. His cock lost its iron
firmness as his words came out, softened. His testicles, so balled-up and
tight moments before, now sagged, drooped.
ÒYou are not here to enjoy yourself, Alex,Ó Kali scolded him. ÒAt
least, not until you earn that right.Ó She took him by his cock. Scornfully
she pulled at it, bringing a yelp from Alex. Cybil opened the dungeon door
for us and we went out, me following, unknowing, stealing a glance over
my shoulder, seeing the players in Hell return to their tasks. The girl was
bent over again, her sobs open and free now, still resisting, still certain
of her heretical love. The girl with the Indian lovers was being raped
again, the domme with the gartered beauty was once more at work. Cybil
shut the door. I glanced away. I was not to look anymore. I would be like
JobÕs wife if I lingered, turned to look again. Cybil would lock me in with
them and I would toil the night away, fucked and raped and beaten too, all
with love, no doubt, but relentlessly, unceasingly. They would delight in
having such a new, innocent virgin in their midst. I would have no
protection, no master. I would be alone, naked, my cunny wet, my nipples
rigid. Truly it was Hell, entering in bare-skinned, seeing those couples at
their unholy work. Worship of the flesh it was, where high-born and low-
born mingled like farm animals, peeing, farting, mating and pooping. All
together, without regulation, arms and limbs and necks and bottoms all
rubbing freely, exploring, seizing, thrusting. And receiving. Most of all,
for me, receiving. In all my private places. I would be pillaged by
morning, Troy after the sack, my hair disheveled, my makeup trashed, my
arms and legs aching, my cunny sore. My nipples would perk painfully,
hating their stiffness. My mouth would be filled with drying cum. My
bottomhole would bubble like some gurgling geyser at Yellowstone. My
hands would be sleek with caked sperm.
Ah, how I shivered, walking away from all that. Cybil treaded softly
behind me, seeing my hips sway, knowing my wants, my wretched needs.
Here in this amazing place new thoughts came to me, unbidden. Thoughts
from girlhood dreams, but more vivid, of hunters on the chase, of little
fawns running, of Paul Bunyan stooping down and grabbing me up from my
woodland rabbithole. His cock bulged in his trousers. His axe threatened
to rend me if I did not obey. I would be his bedmate, or his dinner. It was
my decision, yes. Either way I would have to spread. To be stuffed in bed,
or in the kitchen, turkey-like, for his evening meal.
ÒCome, such fine equipment must not go to waste,Ó Kali teasingly
told Alex. He was limp now. I saw his genitals as he passed a hallway
mirror. KaliÕs voice was sardonic. Yet I knew her words to be truthful,
for in his hardness he was amazing indeed. A cockstand fit for a
champion, I thought. He had eaten Wheaties as a boy and they had grown
him up tall as the wheatfields of Kansas. Where it counted. The third leg.
A leg of lamb, or of cock, my dear. We shall stuff it up your turkey-twat.
Instinctively I touched myself. Cybil, behind me, saw my squeezing,
noted the pressing juncture of my thighs.
ÒDo you have to pee?Ó she asked.
ÒA little,Ó I answered. We both knew, though, that it was passion
that had impelled my hand. Our eyes met. I thought her pretty then, her
full gypsy figure, bosoming into my bosoms, her hips wider than mine,
full-formed. I felt a yearning as I had not ever before. A woman? Was I,
a female myself, so impressed with a fellow female that I would...?
God, love is strange. It was the environment, I know. The big house,
the echoing halls. From the outside it looked unimpressive but once
within its walls new expanses seemed to appear. Dr. Who in his phone
booth, traveling the lanes of love. Yes, I was the Good Doctoress, wasnÕt
I? Exploring in the name of science.
Kali looked over her shoulder. There was a grin on her face. She
squeezed AlexÕs behind reassuringly, impelling him forward. Lost in his
loss he did not know of my imminent departure.
ÒI had a pet dog once,Ó Cybil began, gazing into my eyes. ÒA little
dog. I lived in an apartment then. When it wanted to pee I took it outside
for a little walk. The gentlemen admired me. And my little dog too.Ó Did
I hear the voice of the Wicked Witch of the West? Was I in Oz now,
threatened, or loved? Cybil turned me about. ÒIt frames your ass
beautifully, but really, doggies do not need such things,Ó she said of my
corset. She unlaced me. I stood quietly. I liked having the corset off.
Why wear it, when I was otherwise naked? It seemed unfair. A kind of
last remnant of civilization, of morality, in a world, a displaced place,
that had freed itself of such cumbersome things.
Cybil eased the corset off my figure. I breathed easily. I found new
freedom in the sleek hefting of my ribs beneath my breasts, expanding as I
breathed. Cybil stroked my mane of blonde hair. Her hands flitted over my
bottom. She turned me round. I faced her. My cunny tingling, my breasts
thorn-like at their peaks, I let my eyes gaze into hers. They were
mysterious, plotting.
ÒThe shoes are perfect,Ó she said. ÒBut you need a collar, a leash.Ó I
let her fingers play over my hips, trace their outlines. I wanted to explore
new frontiers with her. To go where no girl had gone before. We would go
to places John Luc Picard never dreamed of.
Cybil took me into the kitchen. She opened a drawer. She took out a
collar. It was made of rough leather. She buckled it on me. ÒToo tight?Ó
she asked. I nodded. She loosened it a notch. I felt the leather against my
skin. The inside of it had been softened somehow. It was not
uncomfortable. She attached a leash to me from behind. I wore the collar
backwards. The leash ran down my back and its tip settled in my
bottomcrack. I felt as if I were being silently invaded by it. When I
shifted my weight it moved, rustled. ÒSo pretty,Ó Cybil said, admiring me.
ÒCome upstairs with me. I must dress. We must take a walk in the park
so you can pee. Do you have to poop? Here, have these granola bars. Munch
on them while you await me.Ó I looked at the bars. I could not believe her
wickedness.
ÒYou could not,Ó I breathed. I wanted to obey, to be her friend, but it
was so strange, so bizarre. It was the kind of thing you read about on
a.s.s., saying to yourself, ÔOh sure, sure this would happen. Sure they
would do this. Exon should ban stuff like this, it is so silly.Õ But, perhaps
because of the impossibility of it in my mind, the utter nonsensicalness of
it, I lifted the granola bar to my lips and bit into it. ÒMmmm, roasted
chestnuts,Ó I admitted, smiling at the taste.
ÒWith a mild laxative,Ó she replied. They were medicinal bars, but
they tasted good. ÒEat your fill, I want you to make a nice poop in the
park, in front of all the gentlemen. I have a pooper-scooper, donÕt worry.
If youÕre too runny afterward I can give you something to stop you up
again. But there shouldnÕt be any problem. ItÕs mostly just wholesome
food. Fill up your tummy. I may lock you in the dungeon afterward and
mightnÕt get anything more for days.Ó
I bit again. I felt like a fish. I was hooked. She had me, my cunny
wet and tingling, my nipples poking up at her, my breasts uptilted in their
fulsomeness. She watched me eat a moment, then turned, beckoned me to
follow. Upstairs we went together. We held hands on the stairsteps and
mounted them together. In the distance I heard a man groan and the
cracking of a leather whip. Alex. Kali. I knew he was getting punished for
spilling his seed. ÒHe deserves it,Ó I said smugly to Cybil. She smiled,
said nothing.
Despite her arousal, Cybil encumbered herself with clothes. She put
on panties first. Then stockings, drawing them tight, hooking them with
the garters of a corset she made me tie her into. Then came a hooped
skirt, eighteenth-century style. Lastly a bonnet, and a parasol. She
repaired her makeup, then mine.
ÒCome, dear, we must have your walk now,Ó she said to me. I felt
shiveringly vulnerable in my nakedness. At the door she donned gloves. A
final touch of civility. Then we left her bedroom behind. Did I envy her
her clothes? I did not know. Surely I would soon. It depended on where
we went, didnÕt it? Were we leaving the house? Surely we could not!
Downstairs we went. Near the front door she stopped. She turned
into a small bathroom. She took a towel from the towel bar there. She
brought it to me folded over her arm. ÒHere, put this on,Ó she said. I took
it from her. It smelled fresh. It was soft. Carefully I wrapped it around
myself. It barely fit. I saw how it indented my breasts, leaving them
bulging out, just covering the nipples. Below it just stretched far enough
to hide my pubis.
ÒThey will think we are going to a public bath,Ó Cybil smiled. She
took my hand.
ÒWhat about Kali?Ó I asked.
ÒNo matter,Ó Cybil replied. Alex has his hands full with her. He
doesnÕt need another tormentress. He will wish soon he hadnÕt paid for her
services, let alone yours.Ó We approached the front door together, hand-
holding, girls going to nursery school together. Leaning against the front
door I saw it. A pooper-scooper. Who had placed it there? Becky? Did
she know of my fate? I blushed deeply, thinking she might. That such a
little urchin should know...
We stepped outside. It was dark. Somberly the street lights lit the
pavement with little pools of light. A police car slipped past, unseeing.
We stood on CybilÕs porch, bathed in shadow. A limo pulled up. It was
rented, I saw. The driver! He at least would see me! I could not bear the
thought. Cybil pressed my hand firmly, drew me forward. I stumbled down
the front porch steps. My heels were spiky, showy. They were not good
for walking in. Tucking a finger into the top of my towel to keep it up, I
walked down the frontyard walkway with Cybil beside me. I dared not
glance to the left or the right. My hair hung alongside my eyes, hiding my
face a little, disguising me. I thought I heard laughter in the distance,
voices. Were people sitting out on their front porch? It was warm out. I
prayed they were inside, their voices drifting out through open windows.
The limo driver got out, awaited us. He opened the limo door. Cybil
made me get in first, followed. I smelled fresh leather, clean, newly
polished. I was glad of it. My bare bottom made contact with it. I held
the towel to me, clinging to it like some stricken passenger might hold a
life preserver on the drowning Titanic.
We sped away from CybilÕs house, from Hell. But where were we
going? Cybil took out a blindfold from some hidden place in her bodice.
ÒYou must not know, dear, it is the rules,Ó she said. Quietly she tied the
blindfold over my eyes. I sat still, feeling the soft swathing fabric bind
me. I was blind now, a young Oedipus. When she was done Cybil stroked
my nearest thigh. Shiveringly I sat beside her, anxious, uncertain. I was a
fawn. I had submitted to the huntress. I did not have to be shot.
We rode. We arrived. I was taken from the limo. I was brought
inside, still blindfolded, unknowing. I heard voices. We walked, me
unsteady in my heels, Cybil firmly striding, guiding me.
My blindfold was unfurled. I blinked. I was in a backyard garden. My
breath caught in my throat. My titties bobbed on my chest in surprise. I
saw gentlemen, suavely dressed, women too, some attired like Cybil.
ÒWhat a pleasant surprise,Ó a woman said, coming forward. She had
red hair. It was piled atop her head. She wore a formal gown, all frilly,
sequined. Without any introduction she took my chin, kissed me on my
mouth. Her tongue drove into me and stabbed within my mouth. She
released me. She drew back. She smiled.
ÒMay I walk my doggie?Ó Cybil asked. Her voice was sweet,
plaintive.
ÒYes, please do,Ó the woman answered. Cybil took me by my leash.
She lifted it off my back, out of the slumbering crease of my bottom.
ÒDown, doggie,Ó Cybil told me. She brushed my long hair with her
hand as she spoke. Feeling awkward, almost wanting to laugh, yet
mortified, I knelt onto the ground. It was soft grass, Japanese grass. It
would not hurt me. ÒUp with your bottom,Ó Cybil said. She lifted her
open-toed shoe, pressed her toes to my belly. I leaned forward and arched
my butt up. I did not want to, knew I had to. ÒWiggle it, show it off,Ó
Cybil urged. I waggled my butt like a dog, feeling ludicrous, blushing
deeply. Right down to my toes.
ÒAh, delightful creature,Ó I heard a woman sigh.
ÒShe is not house-broken, though,Ó Cybil replied. ÒI must use your
yard.Ó
ÒGo ahead,Ó the red-haired woman answered. She seemed eager to
see my display. I felt my need then, knew I had suppressed it on the ride
over. But no. I would not do it. I would not embarrass myself in front of
these strangers by doing such horrid things. Peeing? Pooping? It was
awful, truly!
Cybil toed my bottom. ÒGo,Ó she said. I hoped she meant to move, to
crawl, for I pawed my way forward across the grass in response. ÒOh! She
IS a doggie!Ó Cybil, evidently surprised, cried out. She followed. I pulled
on my leash like an eager puppy.
The yard was bright as day. Overhead lamps lit my bottom-rolling
four-legged crawl across the grass. I found a bed of flowers. Daffodils.
Delicately I sniffed them. I liked their fresh scent. I kneed on. I met a
man. He gazed down at me, quite pleased with my demeanor. I wagged my
tail at him. I could not help it. I felt a fullness in my bladder, in my
nether tube. I realized I had to go pretty badly. Could I hold it? Would
they let me prance around a bit and then let me get up, like a dignified
young lady, and go use the toilet? As I watched the man unzipped himself.
His cock stemmed out. The garden party was sprouting new growth. A
dozen penises soon burst forth from flies and stood quavering in the air,
fully erect, all deliciously over-sized, long and wiggly, with perfect
heads.
I lost my head, my manners. I squatted as neatly as I could and let
my bottom hang behind my heels. I was grateful for their height, now.
They would keep me aloft, above the impending puddle. Looking up at the
man, I peed into the grass.
ÒAh, not housebroken indeed,Ó a woman said behind me. I shivered.
It was the redhead. Lightly she caressed my back. When I was finished I
stood. The game was over, wasnÕt it? I was heel deep in a puddle. I could
not crawl out of it without splashing myself.
ÒCome here,Ó the redhead said. She took my hand. I thought she
would lead me to the privacy of a bathroom for my number two. Instead
she took me out to the daffodils. She turned me around. There was a
whiff of lilacs in the air, from nearby bushes. ÒPlease fertilize my
plants,Ó she said. She pushed my head down, a hand under my belly. Like a
mechanism she bent me forward. I grabbed my knees. She pushed against
my back and I let my hands slide farther down my legs in response. My
long hair hung down. It wavered softly in the air.
The redhead separated my legs. I adjusted, letting her part me,
knowing I could not do otherwise. Cybil appeared beside me, her pooper-
scooper in her hand, but I guessed she would not get to use it. My shit was
needed, according to the redhead.
ÒPoop,Ó the redhead commanded. I felt my titties flinch at that. My
bottom quavered. I did not want to. I felt the enema at work, the laced
granola bars. Their remains slid down my chute. I drew in my cheeks,
trying to stop them. I felt fullness. ÒBear down, child,Ó the redhead said,
stroking my hinds with swirling fingertips. In a moment I would be dirty.
I gritted my teeth. I flexed my cheeks, feeling a sliding within me.
And then, then I knew. Something big was nosing its way out of my hiney.
My virgin hole. Nothing had ever gone up it. But this one was big, coming
down. Would it prepare me?
A plop. I looked between my slim, spread legs. At my heels, just
beyond the spikes, a big turd lay upon the daffodils. It would nourish
them. I felt another one coming.
Naughty Naked Dreamgirls (Library of Congress ISSN: 1070-1427) is
copyright 1995 and a trademark of Andrew Roller.