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Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
NIGHT VISITOR
Chapter Four
The rain, driven by the wind, lashed their backs as they waited. He
struggled with the umbrella. She shivered beside him. She was cold. He
could see her white panties bulging out beneath the ragged hem of her
dress. The rain was staining them. She had reached behind herself,
moments before, and pulled the panties out of her ass crack. She had
covered her bottom cheeks with them, to prevent the raindrops from
stinging themselves directly against her skin. He had loved the gesture,
the impulsive quality of it. The desire to protect herself surged within
her even now, even now as they waited.
His penis was exposed. There was nothing he could do about it. He
glanced down at himself. He was too hard to fit back within his pants. He
felt frightened at showing himself this way, to the woman of the house
and her husband, but what could he do? He saw a light flick on, behind the
glass of a window next to the door. There was a sound of a lock turning.
The door opened.
ÒWell, good evening-- what?Ó the woman of the house said. She
looked down at TaylorÕs cock even as she smiled a greeting.
ÒIÕm sorry,Ó Taylor mumbled.
ÒHow rude,Ó the woman remarked.
ÒI canÕt help it,Ó Taylor answered. A smile played across the
womanÕs lips. She reached out and cupped the knob of his dick. It looked
big in her palm, like a fat ripe plum cupped and held by a child. And then
Taylor lost himself. Not his sperm, but his bladder. Pee spurted across
the womanÕs hand. It arced through the air and hit her dress. She leaped
back. Taylor kept peeing. His pee splashed onto the carpet and made a
puddle. The woman looked in astonishment at what he was doing. So did
Taylor, and Tabitha. When he was finished Taylor announced, in a voice
tense with fear and longing, ÒIÕm sorry.Ó
ÒWho is it, dear?Ó a man called from somewhere in the house.
ÒUninvited visitors,Ó the woman replied. She looked at Taylor, at
Tabitha. ÒCome in, dears,Ó she said. ÒYou have found the right place, but
how desperate you both look! Are you both virgins?Ó she asked.
ÒNo,Ó Taylor gasped.
ÒWell come in, in any event,Ó the woman said. She looked again at
TaylorÕs cock. ÒHow large you are!Ó she remarked. ÒDid your little
girlfriend here get you all excited, and then leave you hanging? Tch. Tch.
She should be punished for that.Ó
When they were safely inside, the rain battering the door and
themselves standing dripping on the carpet, the womanÕs husband
appeared. He laughed when he saw TaylorÕs penis. He was a big man,
bearded, and immediately Tabitha didnÕt like him. She didnÕt like his
beard, she didnÕt like the lecherous way he stared at her. Taylor, his penis
exposed, patted TabithaÕs bottom. His gloved hand felt reassuring.
Already TabithaÕs panties were beginning to slide within her ass crack
again, thanks to the few steps sheÕd taken to get past the door. TaylorÕs
leather touch on her naked ass seemed to communicate a message to her,
in morse code. Tap, tap, tap, went his fingers, aimlessly of course, but
she realized as she felt his fingers that she must not like the man who
whipped her. Not for it to really work as it must. She must dislike him,
loathe him even, for he would hurt her and for the pain to be greatest she
must not like him. This thought flashed through her head, as she felt
TaylorÕs fingers on her bottom. This man, this bearded, lecherous man was
necessary. She loved her husband. She admired Taylor. But this man, with
his beard and his prying gaze, she found dislikable. The man seemed to
read her thoughts for he said, turning to his wife,
ÒShe is frowning. I do not like to be frowned at.Ó
The wife ran her tongue over her lips. Her hand, the one sheÕd used
to cup Taylor, was still dripping pee. She waved it in the air.
ÒThey are both confused,Ó she said. ÒHe needs to be worked. She
needs to be trained. They are young lovers, too overcome with their love
to know what to do. We can help them, donÕt you think?Ó
ÒOf course,Ó he answered. ÒBut we already have a party in
progress.Ó
ÒWeÕll add them,Ó she said. She looked again at Taylor. She laughed.
ÒDid you enjoy walking up our walk, with yourself all exposed? You are
lucky it is raining so hard. Our neighbors might have seen you if it werenÕt
so dark and stormy.Ó
ÒI know,Ó Taylor said. ÒI just couldnÕt-- couldnÕt fit myself. I- IÕve
never done this before,Ó he stammered.
ÒIt is her fault,Ó the woman replied. She looked at Tabitha. She
noticed TabithaÕs skirt. ÒMy, what a tease you are!Ó she remarked.
ÒShowing off your bottom like that. But IÕll bet you refuse to let anyone
touch it, hmmm?Ó To TaylorÕs surprise, Tabitha nodded. He had just been
touching her ass, outside her door, had the woman not noticed it? Perhaps
she was too busy looking at his dick, Taylor reasoned. Or maybe she was
playing a game with Tabitha, a game only females knew. He looked at
TabithaÕs nodding head. ÔNo, youÕve never been touched,Õ Taylor said
silently. ÔYouÕre as pure as a newborn lamb, with your white panties and
white bottom, and you want them to believe that, donÕt you?Õ Taylor
leaned back a little and looked at TabithaÕs white-skinned behind, with the
panties jammed fetchingly within the cheeks. And suddenly he realized
that what she was saying was true. She had experimented a little, at the
behest of her husband. At his insistence, really. But tonight, when she
leaned over TaylorÕs lap and unzipped him, that was the first time sheÕd
taken things into her own hands, so to speak. That was her first real
assertion of herself, of what sheÕd wanted. She had operated not from a
desire to please, to please her husband or his friends or even Taylor, but
from a desire to give herself what she wanted, what she secretly longed
for. And what did she long for, Taylor wondered? To be trained. Yes, that
was it. To be truly and wonderfully trained, by real heterosexual men,
men who had a passion for her undiluted by a passion for men.
ÒYour clothes are wet,Ó the woman of the house said matter-of-
factly. Taylor still did not know her name, despite knowing her address.
He had memorized the address some time ago, lured by it, but frightened
of it at the same time. He had not been given their names. Did they even
use their real names, he wondered, when entertaining guests? The woman
smiled at Taylor. She did not know his name either, or TabithaÕs, he
realized, despite the exposure of his penis, and of TabithaÕs bottom. ÒYou
will have to take off your clothes,Ó the woman said, her voice intruding
into TaylorÕs thoughts.
ÒWhat- what is your name?Ó Taylor asked.
ÒMistress,Ó the woman answered. She indicated her husband with
her hand, stained with TaylorÕs pee, and added, ÒYou may call him Master.
And as for yourselves, you will be known by simple names: Miss Bottom,
and Mr. Cock. Specifically, Miss Bottom number 6, and Mr. Cock number 3.Ó
As quickly as she had spoken these words, her demeanor changed. She
clapped her hands once, quickly, and said, ÒInto the bathroom with both of
you. Take off your clothes. YouÕll catch your death of cold if you keep
those wet things on.Ó
Tabitha was shivering and Taylor was too, both of them poorly
dressed for the storm, especially Tabitha. They had been dressed for a
light rain but the wind had picked up unexpectedly, the rain had come down
especially hard, as if in keeping with their turbulent souls. Taylor,
feeling guilty at the way Tabitha was shaking, took her arm. He urged her
along behind Mistress as she led them down a hall. A door was opened. A
small bathroom gleamed at them, all white tiles and porcelain. Taylor
pushed Tabitha inside, Mistress impelling them both with soft, insistent
words, telling them again to remove their clothes. As soon as the door
was shut they tore at each other. They clutched at each otherÕs clothes,
ripping them free. Taylor saw an animal urgency in TabithaÕs eyes. He
guessed her eyes were reflecting the look in his own. The clothes that had
been purchased to cover Tabitha after the evening were yanked from her
body. He popped the buttons off her sweater. He pulled it off her like a
fresh carapace, as if freeing a butterfly from a cocoon. Tossing the
sweater aside, he dug into her blouse with his hands. He pulled her
breasts free, ripping her silky bra with the urgency of his hands. At the
same time she tore open his black coat. She reached for his black silk
shirt and tore that too. She fought with his pants belt, got it undone, then
gaily yanked down his pants, baring his waist, showing all of him, his
pubic hair, his quivering cock, his heavy, roiling balls. He yanked up her
skirt and ripped down her panties. At last they both were free of their
clothes. They panted, their eyes glazed, their chests heaving. Her breasts
wiggled. He put a hand on her flat belly, compassed her hips with his
hands, gazed at her mons. She looked at his erection.
ÒWe are free,Ó Taylor wanted to say. He nosed his cock toward her
pussy. There was a knock at the door. They both looked up.
ÒHow are you coming along?Ó a womanÕs voice chimed. Mistress. In
their haste they had both forgotten they were not alone. Tabitha blushed.
Taylor glanced around, looking for something to replace their clothes.
There was nothing, just a single washcloth, a lone hand towel. Both were
patterned with pretty pink flowers.
ÒWe--Ó Taylor called to the door.
ÒWe need some dry clothes,Ó Tabitha said. The door opened.
ÒWhat?Ó Mistress laughed. Her eyes danced. ÒHow modest you both
are,Ó Mistress said. She looked at her husband. He gazed at Tabitha with
frank interest. ÒI told you theyÕre both confused,Ó Mistress told Master.
ÒYoung lovers. How sweet.Ó
The guests were few in number. Two men, three women. They were
dressed in expensive clothes. They sat eating canapes, drinking wine,
their bodies draped casually over a couch and an adjoining love seat.
Amidst the cushioned softness in which they relaxed there were two
tables. They were both made of pine, the wood rough and unfinished. Upon
the two tables, which were small side tables, were two vases. Each was
curious in that it was made of glass that had subsequently been broken.
Within the jagged edges of the ruined vases fresh roses had been placed.
The roses still possessed their thorns. Water, sprinkled recently upon the
roses, clung in droplets to the red petals and to the thorns.
In front of the chairs, in front of the tables with the vases and the
roses, a space had been cleared. There, hanging above the carpet, dangling
from the ceiling with the promise of pain and agony, was a pair of metal
shackles. The metal gleamed. It was lit by numerous candles that had
been placed around the room. Lying on the floor, on the soft carpet, was a
whip. Standing against the wall was a cane. The polished wood of the
cane, and of the handle of the whip, reflected the candlelight. A gag lay on
the floor in front of the spot where the manacles hung. It was made of
leather. There were teeth marks in the gag, where a frantic mouth had
tested the leatherÕs strength.
ÒThere it is, and there are those who will bear witness,Ó Mistress
said. She gestured toward the T.V. The image of the room filled the
screen. Taylor stared at it. Tabitha clutched his hand. His glove was
gone, as was hers. His bare fingers interlaced with her own. They gripped
each other tightly. They were in the coupleÕs parlor, their private parlor,
where the goings on in the party room could be watched on a T.V.
ÒIs this being broadcast?Ó Taylor managed to ask, feeling the
nervous pulse of TabithaÕs wrist pressing against his own. His cock
quivered.
ÒNo. It is closed circuit,Ó Mistress answered. ÒLike an intercom in a
house. The picture is only broadcast to this room. Although,Ó she smiled,
clicking her tongue in her mouth. ÒI have heard of others who broadcast
their events more widely.Ó
ÒYes,Ó Taylor gulped.
ÒOur parties are for those who desire a certain measure of privacy,Ó
Mistress said. ÒNot complete privacy, of course, for that is found easily
enough in oneÕs own bedroom, in oneÕs own home. But we do offer more
privacy than, say, a certain restaurant in town.Ó Her eyes flashed at
Taylor. Did she guess that theyÕd tried that, and fled? He swallowed, felt
his dick quiver as he swallowed, and said,
ÒAnd so what happens?Ó
ÒAh, that we shall see momentarily,Ó Mistress said. She pointed the
remote control in her hand at the T.V. She clicked it. Suddenly, there was
an image, as of a doctorÕs waiting room. Taylor and Tabitha, clutching
each otherÕs hands as they stood stark naked before the T.V., saw half a
dozen young females. They were each seated in a chair, each one by
herself in her own chair, in a room that was decorated with indifferent
prints on the walls and that had a table in the middle of it, scattered with
magazines. All of the females looked lost in thought. Apparently, they
had been waiting for quite a while, long enough to grow bored. Some sat
with their legs crossed. Others sat with their thighs apart, as if yearning
for something. Each girl was naked, except for small fuzzy pink socks,
identical socks, on each girlÕs feet. Despite their nudity their hair was
perfect. Their fingernails were polished. Their nipples were rouged. The
mons of each girlÕs pubis was carefully trimmed and brushed. Mistress
made this clear by manipulating the remote control in her hand. The
television screen was filled with a close-up of one of the girlÕs pussies.
Tabitha gasped. Taylor felt his pulse, already fast, quicken.
ÒSuch a pretty slit,Ó Mistress intoned. ÒBut it is her bottom that
will be receiving attention tonight.Ó
Suddenly, there was a shout. Mistress pushed a button on the remote
control and the camera, hidden in the waiting room, pulled back abruptly.
ÒMiss Bottom!Ó a loud voice called out. It was the voice of a woman.
Tabitha saw her then, a heavy-set, middle aged woman, her hair carelessly
pulled back and wearing an apron. She looked like a maid, sent to clean the
room. But instead of brandishing a broom, she beckoned to the girl sitting
nearest the door. ÒIt is time, Miss Bottom!Ó the woman insisted. A
quivering, naked girl rose. Her breasts bobbled on her chest as she took a
tentative step forward. There was a gasp from the other girls in the room.
The reverie of their bored thoughts had been broken. Now their faces
showed fright, as they watched the first of their number exit the room.
Mistress clicked her remote again. Suddenly, Taylor and Tabitha
were looking not at the waiting room, but at the first room, the room with
the sofa and ruined vases and the manacles. Into this room stepped Miss
Bottom, the first of the girls with the fuzzy pink socks. Master was
waiting for her, holding the whip that had previously been on the floor.
There was a lecherous gleam in his eyes. The girl stared at him. He
stared back. The guests looked at the girl, lounging as they were in their
chairs, as she stood all naked and exposed before them. Mistress clicked
the remote. The girlÕs ass filled the screen. It was lovely. Taylor gasped
at its loveliness. The cheeks were tight, full, white. The girl stood at
attention, clenching her lovely hinds as she stared at Master, receiving his
stare in turn.
ÒSuch a pretty white ass,Ó Taylor heard someone say.
ÒYes,Ó someone else agreed. ÒBut it must be trained.Ó
Clutching TabithaÕs hand, feeling her cling to him as they watched
together, Master drew Miss Bottom forward. The camera pulled back. A
woman rose from the guests and took Miss BottomÕs hands. She lifted
them to the manacles. Miss Bottom gaped, watching with disbelieving
eyes as her hands were lifted high and snapped into the metal restraints.
ÒDonÕt hurt me!Ó Miss Bottom suddenly implored. But the woman,
securing Miss BottomÕs hands, bent to the carpet and picked up the leather
bit. She jammed it into the young womanÕs mouth.
She was left to dangle. The bit was tied behind her head so that she
couldnÕt spit it out and then she was just left there, unspeaking, hanging
by her wrists from the manacles. Each second that slipped by increased
her fear, her humiliation. Her breasts quivered, her flat belly drew
inward, her ribs showed themselves along the sides of her body. And,
when she turned, the camera offered a view of her bottom, white and
perfect and chubby cheeked, waiting with trepidation for the kiss of the
lash.
ÒIs this her first?Ó someone asked, amongst the languorous guests
who were eating and drinking as the girl dangled.
ÒYes,Ó Master answered. He touched a finger to the girlÕs ass. She
flinched. Her cheeks contracted hard, like tight little spheres on a
creased beach ball. ÒA new ass like hers must be stirred to the whip,Ó he
said. ÒHer husband tried spanking her. She did not like it. But when I am
through with her, when she is finished here and sent back to him, she will
beg for the whip. He will be able to whip her every day, if he pleases. For
she will not be able to exist without the whip.Ó
ÒThatÕs awful!Ó Tabitha breathed.
ÒIt is good training,Ó Mistress answered. On the T.V., MasterÕs voice
continued:
ÒFor three days, I have made her do things she detests. I have made
her eat food she dislikes. I have forced her to watch videos she finds
offensive. I have made her work, cleaning toilets and pots and pans, albeit
carefully, so her pretty nails would not be broken. I have insulted her. I
have grabbed her and pushed her and yelled at her. She thinks nothing good
of me, any more, which suits my purposes. For when the whip strikes her
each blow will be that much more painful, that much more effective. It
would have been bad enough for someone she loves to discipline her, but
someone she hates can exact twice the agony, using the same level of
violence. In this way, when she is returned to her husband, she will be
able to endure whatever he gives her, for even if he gives her blows with
the same force as I, they will be eminently more bearable than what she
had to endure at the hands of a man she hates. In this way is a female
trained to accept the whip from her husband, by learning first to take it
from a man she despises. But, given all that, she must be stirred to the
whip. These first strokes will be moderate, but twice as painful, given
that she hates me. Tomorrow you will see her whipped again. And the
next day too, each day harder and more exacting.Ó
ÒAnd the others?Ó a voice asked.
ÒThey are at different levels in their training,Ó Master answered.
ÒThis first is brand new. She will have the easiest time, tonight. But the
others have taken the whip before, and need it harder tonight if they are to
learn from it. The last will receive the whip most spectacularly, the
leather tearing her flesh, making mincemeat of her pretty bottom.Ó
ÒAnd how does such an effort cause them to need the whip?Ó a
woman asked.
ÒAh, you were admitted under special circumstances. You have never
been through the program,Ó Master said to a clothed woman sitting on the
couch. ÒThese girls, they have been warned against pleasuring themselves.
They are nervous with desire but, even in the privacy of the waiting room,
they know better than to amuse their little pussies. As a result each one
is quivering with pent-up emotion. With need. But she will receive what
she wants only after she receives the whip.Ó
ÒHow tantalizing,Ó the clothed woman on the couch responded.
ÒI have two young men suited for the purpose in another room,Ó
Master said. ÒMy wife spent the entire day torturing their cocks, but
refusing them permission to cum. They are randy, to say the least. When I
unleash them on these girls they will make quick work of them, and give
them the pleasure they wish for. But of course you gentlemen first will
be invited to spear each girlÕs bottom. We never end a whipping without
giving the girl something to think about, up her ass.Ó
Master stepped back from the girl in the manacles. He raised his
whip. His eyes gleamed. The girl struggled to twist around, to look at
him, but she did not turn herself in time. The whip struck. She screamed.
The leather in her mouth silenced her agony. Only her eyes were left to
speak for her, crying out with their widened lids, their gaping, frantic
irises. She had beautiful eyes. Blue eyes. Tears welled in them as the
whip fell again, scorching her bottom.
ÒOh, hold me!Ó Tabitha screeched to Taylor. He gripped her hard. He
gripped her whole body, pulling her to him, and the next minute they were
both on the floor, on the carpet, oblivious to Mistress standing over them.
Her legs scissored open. He entered her. He thrust deep, filling her with
himself. They had raw, hot, urgent sex, his pumping moving in time to the
sound of the whip on the T.V. Mistress watched, dispassionately. She
folded her arms over her chest. Taylor came inside Tabitha. She shrieked
out her pleasure. When they were finished they lay wet and panting on the
carpet. At last they looked up at Mistress, still standing there, her eyes
gazing down at them. The whip sounded on the T.V., rhythmically. The girl
was being punished, Miss Bottom, and her agony was provoking laughter
amongst the guests.
ÒWe should go now,Ó Tabitha breathed. She looked hopefully at
Mistress.
ÒYou pee in my doorway, and then you have sex on my carpet,Ó
Mistress said. ÒYou are animals.Ó
ÒI- I have to go back to my husband,Ó Tabitha said.
On the television the woman screamed again. A long, agonized
scream. Almost passionate. Against the parlor window Tabitha could hear
rain. It had been raining all along but now the tempo increased, even as
the slashing of the whip on the television, the inescapable sound of
leather cracking against flesh, came faster and harder. Suddenly she
realized the nature of her predicament. Of TaylorÕs, and her own. They
were stark naked. Their loins showed the product of their recent passion.
Their clothes lay in a bathroom, torn and unwearable. There was a storm
outside. It was a cold, harsh storm, and even if it had been hospitable
outside what could they do, hail a cab in the nude? A streak of hot desire
ran through Tabitha. It started at her belly, at her belly button, and sank
inwards, in toward her womb. At the same time it raced up to her breasts,
to the very tips of them, and seemed to sparkle there, causing the tips to
rise and swell. Like they had been just moments before, when she had
groped, with Taylor, into the very heights of heaven, into bliss. As
Tabitha realized her predicament, and TaylorÕs too, she looked over at the
man. His cock was hardening. Lengthening. He had given her his all and
yet there he was, up again. Up all night, perhaps. Involuntarily Tabitha
smiled.
ÒThere is much to be done, of course,Ó Mistress said. Her voice was
efficient, clean, crisp. She spoke as if to disobedient children. She
clicked the remote. The cries from the television ceased as quickly as
some third-rate drama, clicked off because it was bedtime. ÒYou will not
sleep together,Ó Mistress continued. ÒYou have had your fun for this
evening. I believe we have two spare bedrooms for both of you,Ó Mistress
said. She reflected a moment, then nodded. ÒYes, IÕm sure we do,Ó she
said.
ÒBut--Ó Tabitha said. She lifted her arm, as if to plead a case.
Mistress bent forward. She took the young wife by her wrist. Tabitha
thought the woman would clasp her hand but instead she grabbed her
wrist. She pulled it. Tabitha felt like a kitten yanked up by its mother.
She wondered if her neck had been closest to Mistress, if Mistress would
have grabbed that instead. With her other hand, Mistress took hold of
TaylorÕs lengthening cock.
ÒAck!Ó Taylor groaned. Tabitha, pulled by her wrist, groaned too. In
a moment both of them were standing. Mistress surveyed them. Tabitha
felt like a young cow, brought to the fair, her udders showing. The
manhood of her bull-lover, standing beside her, unconsciously displayed
itself. ÒBreakfast will be at eight,Ó Mistress said. ÒYou are expected to
be on time. We do not have alarm clocks. Rene will wake you. The maid.
You saw her on the T.V.,Ó Mistress told them. Taylor nodded, dumbly, an
uncomprehending bull. Tabitha drew back. ÒWhere are you going?Ó
Mistress demanded.
ÒMy husband--Ó Tabitha said.
ÒAh,Ó Mistress said. ÒHe does not know? Your whereabouts? This
tryst, this lover,Ó she pointed to Taylor, Òis illicit? How much more
deserving you will be when the whip strikes you, then!Ó Mistress turned.
Taylor took TabithaÕs hand. Tabitha looked anxiously at her lover. She
liked his grip. It was tight. It would not let her go, just as the rain would
not, trapping her here in this house, where she might be forced... to what?
She could not put it into words. But that first part-- where she might be
forced... that was good. To be unspeakable. To do the unspeakable. Tabitha
looked at TaylorÕs cock. It was big, hard. It was magnificent. She let
Taylor lead her along the hall, behind Mistress. She let him lead her, as he
was led, up a flight of stairs. And then she let him put her into a room,
and she let the door be locked, and then she found she was alone.
ÒHow are you this morning?Ó Mistress asked, as Tabitha came to the
table. The young woman blushed. She was naked. Taylor was already
there, sitting upright, naked as herself. But Mistress was dressed, as was
Master. They wore fine clothes, he in a suit, as if dressed for work, she in
a lovely gown, loosely tied in front, that let the cones of her breasts
show. Tabitha saw TaylorÕs gaze, as she entered the room. The young man
was salivating over MistressÕ tits.
ÒI need clothes,Ó Tabitha said. The maid, Rene, escorted her to the
table. Master rose and pulled a chair out for Tabitha. There was a cushion
on the chair, which was made of wood. Polished wood, with a cushion of
fine red linen. ÒI canÕt sit on that,Ó Tabitha breathed.
ÒSit down,Ó Master ordered.
ÒBut my bottom! I have no clothes,Ó Tabitha answered.
ÒYour bottom is lovely, and worth a great deal, as is the cushion,Ó
Master answered. ÒTwo things were never more perfect for one another.Ó
He smiled. ÒSit,Ó he said. Tabitha hunched her shoulders. She did not like
being commanded like a dog. Then, finding her pride, she straightened her
back. Self-consciously she cupped her behind, and sat. ÒOh! It is soft,Ó
Tabitha gasped. It felt delicious pressing against her, being pressed by
her.
ÒOf course,Ó Master answered. ÒTaylor is sitting on one also.Ó
ÒBut I could still use some clothes,Ó Taylor interrupted. Mistress
looked at him.
ÒYou will not wear clothes, sir, during your stay here,Ó Mistress
said. Her voice was firm. Her gaze, taking in his broad shoulders, his fine
head, his naked chest, was unflinching. ÒYou will be naked. This is so the
state of your penis can be monitored at all times.Ó Taylor felt Master
bend over him, from behind. He could feel the manÕs eyes on his lap. ÒYour
penis is very important,Ó Mistress continued. ÒIt must be continually
attended to. It must be tested, and worked. It must be sent on
adventures.Ó
ÒAdventures?Ó Taylor asked.
ÒYes,Ó Mistress said. Rene served her. It was a china plate, with
toast and an egg on it. The egg was sunny-side up. Mistress picked up a
knife and fork. Taylor watched her as she poked the egg with the fork. It
broke. The yolk ran, yellow, across her plate. ÒAdventures,Ó Mistress
said. ÒYou will stride forth, or be carried thus, your penis always leading
the way, pointing the way for you, with your balls urging you on, hanging
there heavily, under your too-hard dick. You will be strapped down too, or
held down, your cock standing up freely, waiting with eagerness for
whatever might cum.Ó She smiled at the allusion. ÒAnd you will run, with
frank eagerness, your penis and balls making a wobbling display, the
paddle cracking against your hard ass. Imagine that! Your hands bound
behind your neck, your back properly bent, your pelvis thrust forward,
showing your manhood, ladies betting on you as if on horses at Pinewood.Ó
Mistress laughed. ÒAnd when you win, when you are hot and sweaty, from
whatever your latest adventure has been, then you will pee. Just as you
did earlier tonight. Freely, with abandon, spraying yourself wherever you
please.Ó
ÒThat was an accident,Ó Taylor said.
ÒNonetheless it was perfect,Ó Mistress answered.
He was erect. Part of him was under the fringe of the tablecloth,
hanging off the table into his lap. He was grateful for that, for it kept
Master, leaning over him, from seeing all of him. He shivered as MistressÕ
words rolled over him. She licked her lips frequently. She tried eating her
egg, but she was too busy talking. The yolk glossed her lips. She spoke of
water in troughs, of feeding troughs too, of rich, raw grain, of bridles and
saddles and the need, as she put it, Òto be broken to the bit.Ó Taylor
trembled. It was the stuff of his erotic dreams! His self-censored,
suppressed, fantasies. And now this woman was promising to make it all
real for him. And she seemed to have the means to do it.
TabithaÕs voice broke in. The rest of them had been served, by Rene,
but nobody touched their food.
ÒWhat about me?Ó Tabitha asked, hopefully. ÒI donÕt have a penis.Ó
ÒNo you do not,Ó Mistress said. ÒTaylor is all hardness and jagged
edges, right down to his stiff stemming cock. And you are all softness,
my dear. Where his loins protrude, yours delve in. To receive. To accept.
To submit. Where his bottom is small and compact, yours is teasingly
cheeky, well-rounded, lovely and full. Where his chest is chiseled and
strong, yours is perky, pointy, and wiggly. But you both have mouths with
which to groan. Bodies which can feel pain. So while your fates will be
different, they will be in some ways alike. Now eat your egg, dear. It will
make you strong. To endure. Let us not speak any more of what must be
done, but enjoy what is. And now we are having breakfast.Ó
And so Master sat, and they ate. Tabitha didnÕt feel like eating but it
was only a little, and so she forced herself. The coffee, which Rene
served, was warm and rich. The cushion under her bottom was soft. But
for her nudity it might have been any well-appointed breakfast, well-
served and attended.
The morning sun streamed through the parlor window. The curtains
were open. A back yard showed. There were tall trees. Tabitha, her belly
full from breakfast, stood before Mistress, who was seated in a chair. The
woman admired her. Behind her, with a view of her bottom, was Master.
He had Taylor over his lap, the young manÕs cock hanging down between his
pinstripe-trousered legs.
ÒThis is silly,Ó Taylor groaned. He felt his balls squeezed as Master
drew his pinstriped legs closer together.
ÒIt is your first test,Ó Mistress answered. She leaned forward. She
took TabithaÕs wrists. She drew the flat-bellied girl closer to her,
admiring her ribs, which jutted above her belly, and her breasts, which,
hanging above her ribs, jutted with perfect, round-fleshed glory.
TabithaÕs nipples were stiff.
ÒHave you ever had a baby?Ó Mistress asked Tabitha. The young wife
blushed.
ÒWe havenÕt been married that long,Ó Tabitha said.
ÒYou didnÕt answer my question. I know about girls today,Ó Mistress
said. ÒAny babies?Ó
ÒNo,Ó Tabitha answered.
ÒAbortions?Ó Mistress asked. Tabitha, already blushing, turned
redder.
ÒNo,Ó Tabitha said.
ÒAny pills to stave off the need for an abortion, after inception?Ó
Mistress asked.
ÒNo!Ó Tabitha said, the word seemingly wrenched from her.
ÒSo. Your belly is pure,Ó Mistress said. ÒYou have taken sperm but it
has not done its work.Ó She patted the young wifeÕs flat tummy. ÒWe will
see that you are well filled here, my dear,Ó Mistress said. ÒPerhaps when
you leave you will feel something growing in you, enlarging you, here,
right here, expanding you and making you much more full than your egg at
breakfast did.Ó She paused. She looked up at the girlÕs eyes, gazing down
at her over the rim of her well-fleshed tits. ÒDid you know each egg has
sperm in it?Ó Tabitha nodded her head ÔnoÕ. ÒYes,Ó Mistress said. ÒTo be
an egg, a chicken egg I mean, each egg must first be fertilized. By a cock.
A cock fucking the hen. So you ate sperm this morning, when you ate your
egg.Ó
ÒHow nourishing,Ó Tabitha said, her blush still strong on her face.
ÒYes,Ó Mistress said. ÒBend forward. Let me have a look at your
teeth.Ó Tabitha obeyed. Her tits fell into MistressÕ lap and the woman
exclaimed, as Tabitha opened her mouth, ÒMy, such boobs! How big and ripe
they are!Ó The woman took hold of TabithaÕs tits. She weighed them in
her palms. She plucked at the nipples with her fingers. Tabitha, her
mouth open, gasped. ÒYes thatÕs it,Ó Mistress told the young wife. ÒKeep
your mouth open. Wider.Ó Playing with the girlÕs tits, Mistress examined
her teeth. She raised a finger and pried at the girlÕs lips. ÒSay ÔahÕ,Ó
Mistress ordered.
ÒAh,Ó Tabitha complied.
ÒVery good,Ó Mistress said.
ÒOuch!Ó Tabitha cried, for as she was permitted to rise, Mistress
pinched her right tit, on the nipple. Tabitha, standing straight now, rubbed
her breast.
ÒA small pain, well received,Ó Mistress smiled. ÒTurn around. Let
me see your bottom.Ó Tabitha, blushing fiercely now, turned. Master came
into view. And Taylor, lying awkwardly in the manÕs lap, over his knees,
his cock and testicles squeezed between the manÕs thighs.
ÒThis is hugely embarrassing,Ó Taylor said.
ÒIt pleases me. Now be quiet,Ó Mistress answered. She cupped
TabithaÕs behind. She squeezed the cheeks. Tabitha rose on her toes,
pensively. Mistress intruded a finger between the cheeks. The girl let out
a small yelp. Mistress pried the cheeks open, despite TabithaÕs clenching,
and found the girlÕs nether hole. ÒYour bottom,Ó Mistress asked clinically.
ÒHas your husband taken you there?Ó
ÒY- Yes,Ó Tabitha answered.
ÒNot often, by the looks of it,Ó Mistress said. The hole was small
and tight, a closely hidden secret, a little whorl of crinkled flesh.
ÒN- No,Ó Tabitha said. ÒI would not let him.Ó
ÒBut he has taken you?Ó Mistress inquired.
ÒA-- little,Ó Tabitha stammered. She bit her lip. Master smiled at
her.
ÒWell, you will go adventuring with your bottom here,Ó Mistress
said. She released the cheeks. She let them spring back together, hiding
TabithaÕs well-kept secret. She ran a finger up the girlÕs spine, starting
at her tailbone, counting the ridges in her back bone. Tabitha shivered.
ÒYou have such a slim back, such a narrow waist, and such a teasingly
plump ass!Ó Mistress remarked. ÒIt just begs for attention. ItÕs small, yet
wonderfully round. How it juts! Wiggle your behind for me, darling.Ó
TabithaÕs hips moved, a little.
ÒWiggle!Ó Mistress implored again. TabithaÕs bottom gave a slight
wobble. ÒAh, she needs the crop,Ó Mistress sighed. ÒUpstairs with you,
dear!Ó
ÒBut what?Ó Tabitha tried to turn. Mistress gave her ass a light
slap.
ÒUpstairs!Ó Mistress ordered. ÒThere is so much here to test your
delicate ass. Paddles, whips, canes, crops. You will see them all soon
enough, IÕm sure. But go upstairs now. Master will be with you shortly.Ó
Tabitha lifted her head. She tossed back her long mane of hair. With
slouching, hesitant steps she walked toward the parlor door. She saw the
television, sitting along the wall. It was wide-screen, but it was dark all
across its wide surface. The people were gone. She did not know where
they went. Her feet padded on the carpet. On the place where she and
Taylor had made love last night. He had been so dominant then, so... cocky.
Yes, she liked that word. Tabitha licked her lips. She looked back over her
shoulder at him. He was lying across MasterÕs lap now, awkwardly, in
thrall to Mistress, her lap dog. She did not like him any more. Her eyes
flitted up to MasterÕs face. His hand was on TaylorÕs behind but he was
eyeing her. She shivered. She did not like the way his eyes glinted as he
looked at her. Like a wolf.
Tabitha passed through the parlor door. As she did, she heard the
sound of flesh coming against flesh. It was a hard, uncompromising sound,
a calloused hand hitting a taut, muscled behind. Slap!
ÒAgh!Ó It was Taylor who gave the cry.
ÒAgain,Ó Mistress intoned. There was another slap. Beyond the
parlor, Tabitha reached the stairs. Quickly she mounted them, as the slaps
sounded behind her. Taylor groaned. TabithaÕs bottom quivered, as if in
sympathy. Her slim feet dashed up the stairs.
Tabitha gazed out the window of her bedroom. The house felt empty.
She wondered where the other guests were-- had Master released all the
bottom girls to them? Had he given them the young studs also, Mr. Cock
number one and Mr. Cock number two? Tabitha would have liked to meet
them, she realised. She put a hand to her belly. She rubbed it. She did not
like its flatness. She wanted it to be bloated and full. She wanted
something growing inside of it. Tabitha reached back to her bottom. She
felt its nakedness, its softness, its clean white pure unblemished skin.
Suddenly, she envied the girl she had seen last night, on the T.V. She
envied the way she had taken her marks, accepted them, let them adorn
her. Tabitha reached up to her breasts. She clutched them. She squeezed
the flesh and felt it extrude through the openings left by her hands. The
nipple of each breast squeezed outward, pointing toward the sun-drenched
yard.
Footsteps on the stairs. Tabitha rushed to the bed. Someone had
come and made it, while she was downstairs at breakfast. She didnÕt have
time to pull back the coverlet. She threw herself on it. She reached up
and squeezed the pillow that lay atop the coverlet. The linen sheathing
the pillow was fresh. She sniffed it. She liked its smell.
The footsteps gained the second floor landing. Tabitha felt giddy.
She was alone, with strangers. Her husband had given her away for the
evening and the man, against orders, had taken her from the house where
her husband was staying. Now she was here. He did not know where she
was. Nobody did, except Taylor, and he was downstairs, getting his
bottom spanked. Tabitha did not even know the name of the man and
woman who owned this place! And they did not know her name, either. She
was just Miss Bottom. Miss Bottom number six. Tabitha sighed. As she
moved the pillow she was aware of something beneath it. Something hard.
A corner of it stuck out as she shifted the pillow on the bed, gripping it,
pressing her face to it. Tabitha turned her head. She gazed at the tip of a
wooden handle. A coil of leather was tied to it, trailing back under the
pillow. The leather was supple, slim, about the thickness of a pencil.
ÒIt is warm outside. A perfect day. Are you sleepy?Ó A voice,
thick-accented, asked. Tabitha flung her head around. At the same time
she moved the pillow to the right, hoping to cover the end of the handle.
To her shock, it was not Master standing in the doorway to her bedroom, or
even Mistress. It was the maid she had seen last night on T.V. A middle
aged woman, her hair pulled back, wearing a white apron.
ÒI-- uh-- no...Ó Tabitha gasped. She felt like a little girl caught
playing sick, so she would not have to go to school.
ÒThe rain has stopped,Ó the maid said. She moved to the window. In
her hands Tabitha saw a teddy bear. It had round eyes, a button nose. It
stared at her from the maidÕs arms, or seemed to. ÒMy husband will be
able to pick crops today,Ó the maid said. ÒAnd the rest of my family also.
The turnips are in season.Ó
Tabitha felt naked, exposed. Quietly she drew her legs together.
Gazing at the teddy bear, but speaking to the maid, who stood at the
window looking out, Tabitha said,
ÒYou own a farm?Ó
ÒNo,Ó the maid answered. ÒMy relatives are farm workers. Migrant
workers. They move from farm to farm, picking whatever is in season.
But yesterday the rain drove them from the fields. Today will be good.
But it will be muddy.Ó
ÒOh,Ó Tabitha answered. She hugged the pillow. The maid turned.
Tabitha must not have concealed all of the handle, she realized, for the
maidÕs eyes focused on the edge of the pillow. After a long silence, the
maid said,
ÒBut not everyone has to work, eh?Ó
ÒNo,Ó Tabitha gulped. The maid walked over to the bed. She put
down the teddy bear. Discreetly she covered the handle with it, placing
the bear at the edge of the pillow. Then her eyes took in the long expanse
of TabithaÕs back, her pale upturned bottom, her naked, tanned legs.
ÒI had my first child when I was 12,Ó the maid said.
ÒOh!Ó Tabitha gasped. After a moment she said, ÒYou must have been
very proud.Ó
ÒNo,Ó the maid replied. ÒToo young. By 16 I had four children. Now I
have ten children and 15 grandchildren.Ó
ÒOh,Ó Tabitha answered. She did not know what to say. She reached
for the teddy bear. She drew it closer to herself. She forgot the handle,
letting it show again, its end sticking out from under the pillowÕs edge.
ÒWell, there is much work to be done,Ó the maid said. ÒI have to do
laundry, dishes... I see you later.Ó
ÒYes!Ó Tabitha agreed. She put her face to the teddy bear. She
listened as the woman left.
ÒWould you like your door open or closed?Ó the maid asked. Tabitha
blushed. She had left it open, not realizing the maid was in the house,
thinking only herself and Master and Mistress and Taylor were present.
ÒC- Closed. No, open,Ó Tabitha said boldly. She hugged the teddy
bear. She felt an impulse to spread her thighs, which she just managed to
resist.
ÒAlright,Ó the maid said. Tabitha heard the woman walk down the
hall. She craned her neck around. The door was open! Wide open, and in
sympathy with the door she parted her legs.
Downstairs, TaylorÕs bottom was red. Master let the young man get
up off his lap. TaylorÕs hands flew to his behind. His cock, stiff and
excited, wobbled with unspent need.
ÒThat hurt!Ó Taylor said.
ÒIt is only the beginning,Ó Mistress answered. She rose from the
chair she was sitting in. She plucked at a drawstring on the front of her
gown. The garment fell open, revealing her bosoms, her belly. Taylor
gaped. A single tie kept MistressÕ gown closed at her waist. Her most
promising place was not yet revealed, but the sight of her breasts and
sensuously flat belly made TaylorÕs cock leap with delight.
ÒMy, how stiff you are this morning, sir,Ó Mistress smiled at Taylor.
He felt awkward standing naked before her husband in a fine suit of
clothes, and in front of her dressed like a young madam, but he couldnÕt
help himself. He was desperate, and he wanted her.
ÒDo you find my wife attractive?Ó Master asked Taylor.
ÒYes,Ó Taylor answered.
ÒPrettier than Tabitha?Ó Mistress asked.
ÒTabitha is a girl,Ó Taylor said. ÒYou are a woman.Ó
Mistress smiled. ÒI take that as a compliment,Ó Mistress said.
30
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