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Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
WANTON WINTER
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Chapter Four
Bejeweled but otherwise naked, we left the living room and walked
down a hall. Helene, looking splendid as ever in her decollete gown, was
handed a riding crop by our host which she switched liberally near our
bottoms, making my aunt and I walk with a quick step. To my surprise I
saw a plump woman waiting at the end of the hall. It was not the same
maid who had met us at our hostÕs house in the city, but with her derisory
air and her plump figure, she might well have been the womanÕs sister. My
aunt and I were young and beautiful, she was old and fat. In any other
circumstance it would have been we who had the opportunity to show
contempt for her. But tonight the tables were turned, and she knew it. We
were naked, heading for a fate that our hosts promised would be painful.
She was free to spend the night as she pleased; perhaps reading, or merely
sleeping peacefully. In the morning she would come to the outbuilding.
She would pick up the condoms the men had worn. She would count with
satisfaction the marks upon our bodies. I saw it all in her eyes, in her
contempt for us, in a sudden fearful realization, like a vision opening in
the sky above the head of a saint.
ÒOh, auntie!Ó I cried. I grabbed my auntÕs hand. She felt the grip of
my small fingers and squeezed them. Her jewels flashed in the dim light
of the hall. The maid wore no jewels. Was she jealous of ours? Our host
said we would be permitted to keep them.
I felt a swish pass across my bottom, quite close, nearly touching,
but not quite. ÒMove!Ó Helene bellowed. At the same moment the maid
opened the door at the end of the hall. I felt a cool rush of air. With a
confused step I hurried forward. My aunt walked briskly beside me.
Suddenly we were outside, the soft carpeting under our feet replaced by
concrete.
We stood at the beginning of a long portico. There was a roof over
our heads, and walls on either side of us. For a few feet the walls
stretched along the walkway. Then they ended, and the portico had no
walls, and was open on either side, though the roof remained for the entire
length of it. My aunt and I felt again the wind made by the swish of the
crop; just barely missing our bottoms, urging us forward. Behind Helene,
who stood at our backs, the half-dozen men could be heard coming down
the hall, greeting the maid as they approached her.
ÒGood evening sirs,Ó the maid said obsequiously. She was as
fawning towards them as she was disdainful of us. I walked hand-in-hand
with my aunt out past the end of the porticoÕs walled portion, and it was
there that the wind hit us.
It was cold! It struck our bare skin, whipping our hair up, a strong
cross-wind that blew with gusto. Upon the freshly-shoveled walkway
(shoveled by the maid, though I did not know it then), new snow was
already falling, blown by the wind. On either side of the snow-sprinkled
concrete walk there were drifts of the stuff; big white drifts of snow
that threatened to spill onto the walk. I realized with a sudden shiver
that, even if we were left free in the building to which we were heading,
the outbuilding at the end of the walkway, we would nonetheless be
prisoners there, for the falling snow would cover up the walkway and keep
us from returning to the comforts of the house behind us.
ÒOhhhhh!Ó my aunt cried. Suddenly she dropped my hand and went
running in the nude down the walkway, toward our destination. It was too
cold to walk, and I followed directly on her heels, hallooing like a child as
I ran along the walk. The wind nipped at us. Through the rush of the air I
could hear the men laughing. Helene hurried along behind us, not running,
but walking at a swift pace, her crop held out in front of her to connect
with our bottoms.
At the end of the walkway we found the door open. We ran inside,
only to find ourselves in a small anteroom. It was made of stone. There
was a door at the opposite end but it was locked. My aunt and I stood in
there, huddling together, waiting for the men to arrive. I felt her hot
breath upon me. I shivered against her, seeking the warmth of her flesh
and her exhalations. She held me close, her hands on my hips, her cheek
pressed to my forehead.
ÒOh, auntie!Ó I exclaimed. I wished to say more but I was too cold.
ÒItÕs alright,Ó my aunt said, but from the quavering sound of her
voice I knew she did not believe it.
Helene came through the open doorway and into our crowded
anteroom. She looked at us smugly. With satisfaction she tapped first my
bottom with the crop, then my auntÕs.
ÒOH Helene,Ó my aunt, who just moments before tried reassuring me,
now said in a worried voice. ÒHelp us get out of this!Ó
ÒI am your chaperone but not your savior,Ó Helene smiled. ÒYou
appear to have a very fine master and I will not interfere unless he proves
otherwise.Ó
ÒOh, but he will whip us!Ó I cried. My bosoms shook as I spoke. I was
frightened, shivering uncontrollably as I spoke. I stood on tiptoe and
squashed my breasts against my auntÕs to conceal how they juddered with
my every breath. Helene grinned and slapped my bottom with her crop. It
shivered too, the tight cheeks shaking, but I could only reach back and
place my hands awkwardly upon it.
A man reached the open doorway. Helene turned to regard him and he
handed her a ring with keys. She accepted it smilingly, then turned and,
looking at my aunt and I, announced, ÒIn you go!Ó At once she stepped to
the locked door and put in a key and unlocked it and opened it. Then, with a
wave of her crop, she urged my aunt and I forward. We could hardly go
back; the men were crowding now into the anteroomÕs open door that led
out to the portico. So we rushed forward, holding hands, and slipped into
the main chamber of the outbuilding.
It was silent within, as silent as a grave. The walls of the building
were thick. They were made of stone, and must have been very old, for it
would have been prohibitively expensive to build something this massive
and secure in modern times. I gazed about the room wide-eyed. Squeezing
my auntÕs hand, I stared in rapt wonder at all it contained.
The ÒfurnitureÓ of the room, if it could be called that, was made of
wood. It all looked scarred and worn, as if many penitents before us had
made the trek down the long portico and found themselves imprisoned
here. Yet despite the age of the fixtures, they were clean and scrubbed. I
did not see a sign of dirt anywhere. At once I realized the maid must have
been in here, preparing the room for us. Had she laughed to herself as she
polished the shackles that dangled so menacingly from the furniture? Had
she cleaned the floor with a twinkle in her eyes, knowing that soon it
would be soiled again, this time with spittle and sweat and tears from my
aunt and myself, writhing in our nudity as the men, inspired by our
distress, spent themselves in big puddles on the floor? This room was
not, fundamentally, about sex; even I in my naivete could see that. A room
equipped for sex would have contained a soft bed, and flowers, and gentle
things like mints on a plate. This room was made to test a person with
pain; to bring them to heights of agony that would leave them with lasting
memories of being utterly and completely subjugated.
It was about surrender, and I saw I could do nothing else but allow
myself to surrender as I gaped at the dangling spiked cuffs, the long
sinuous chains, and the trestles and bars upon which the men would surely
desire to break me.
I noticed, too, that a great deal of effort had been put into preparing
this room for us; not just in the cleaning of it by the maid, but in the way
the equipment, though old, had been scrupulously maintained and repaired.
New rivets could be seen in the ancient wood, replacing older ones that
had worn through or broken from years of use. Where the wood itself gave
out, it was replaced by a new beam, and lacquered to match the color of
the older wood. Men had spent hours in this room, checking each bolt in
the furniture, each screw, to insure that each of the hideous devices
worked exactly as planned. We would not be harmed by the old equipment
misperforming. We would only be hurt in ways our masters intended. It
was a strangely comforting thought, though as I squeezed my auntÕs hand I
wondered which might be worse, being hurt by equipment that failed and
broke, or being hurt deliberately, by the will of our captors.
ÒGirls, you must dress,Ó our host said. I turned quickly and saw him
standing with the other men in the doorway to the chamber. How rowdy
and self-assured they looked! They had us where they wanted us now. Yet
what did he mean, saying we must dress? My heartbeat quickened; were
we somehow to be let out of this awful place, to be set free? Had it all
been a ruse, designed merely to frighten us?
I felt my auntÕs grip upon my hand slacken. A most curious thought
occurred to me just then, one I will never forget, as long as I live. I felt a
sudden contempt for these men. Had they stripped us naked and brought us
here only to Ôchicken outÕ at the last minute? Would they really permit us
to get dressed and to leave? Without even so much as a kiss, or a slap? I
heard my auntÕs breathing become regular, and controlled. She lifted a
hand and swept locks of her hair back out of her eyes. She exuded a
newfound confidence, and I saw her jut forth her naked breasts. I copied
her. The men stared at us. Their insolent rakishness lessened. They
became almost subservient as they looked upon us, like acolytes
worshipping twin gods. My aunt and I were the epitome of their desires
and they had, in the final moment, the moment of truth, broken upon our
beauty and found themselves powerless to do to us what they wished.
Then Helene appeared before us, having stepped aside to a shelf and
fetched something. She was holding it up, next to her face. She was
smiling. Her eyes were cat-like. The thing was about the size of a tulip
bulb. She held it aloft with twin fingers pressed to its slender top. The
sac-like underside of it hung down, bulbous and emitting a sound like a
bell.
Suddenly I realized that my thoughts about the men, that they had
Ôchickened outÕ, had been a misperception. In fact they were in awe of
what they would do to us, how they would mark us and make us suffer. I
felt my breath catch in my throat as Helene, looking directly at me,
ordered me to bend over.
ÒBut we must dress!Ó my aunt, in a high, pleading voice, said to
Helene. Frantically she looked past Helene at our host.
ÒYes, indeed you must, but in the things Helene gives you,Ó our host
said. His voice was deep, commanding, in the otherwise silent room.
Helene ordered me again to turn around and bend over and I looked
beseechingly at my aunt.
ÒD- Do as she says,Ó my aunt stammered. She took both my hands.
ÒOh, auntie!Ó I cried, but was suddenly pressed down by my auntÕs
own hand, one of them letting go of my gripping fingers to pass over the
back of my head. She forced my head down. My pleading lips passed down
her neck and over her breasts. They ran down her tummy and finally
settled against her bush. Behind me I felt Helene sleek her palms over my
ass. Then, quite rudely, she opened my bottom cheeks and stuck something
up into my hole.
ÒYeeeech!Ó I shouted. My words fell upon my auntÕs bush, where my
wet lips pressed. I felt something slender, made of metal, pass into my
anus. Then I heard a Òclick!Ó and the thing in my bottom opened!
ÒIt is a butt bauble,Ó Helene laughed. ÒI am fitting it into you so
that you may wear it.Ó
Then I knew the meaning of ÔdressedÕ. The men intended to dress us
in obscene ornaments, to make our torture more amusing. When I had the
bauble inserted in me, tinkling with my every shiver, it was my auntÕs
turn to be anally adorned. She bent freely, though with a quick look of
apprehension at me. She put her hands upon a low wooden bench to steady
herself. Then Helene, parting the cheeks of her ass, stuck a bell-laden
bauble into her bottom. The men laughed. I stood erect, watching her,
passing my hands behind myself to bat at the little wicked thing that now
made my ass ring like a cow bell.
ÒOh, what if I should have to poop?Ó I asked frankly, when my aunt
stood up and once more took my hand.
ÒIt- it shall have to be removed,Ó my aunt said hopefully.
ÒWait! I am not finished,Ó Helene said. She went again to the shelf
and returned with more ornaments. ÒThese are pussy weights,Ó she said.
They too had bells upon them. She held them up for us, letting us hear
them tinkle. ÒSpread your legs and thrust forward your hips,Ó Helene said.
ÒI shall clamp these to the lips of your cunt. If left on for too long they
would make your pussy lips droop, which we would not want. But worn for
a little while, in the dungeon, it will be alright.Ó
My aunt and I stood open-legged, holding hands, and watched as
Helene adorned each of our cunts with the weighted bells. They felt heavy
upon me and, once clipped on, I could think of nothing but my cunt, with
weights dangling down from it, as if I were a boy with balls.
ÒOh, I do not like these!Ó I exclaimed.
ÒNeither do I,Ó my aunt said. Helene laughed.
ÒI am still not finished dressing you,Ó she said.
Again Helene went to the shelf, and this time returned with still
more bells. I couldnÕt imagine what was left on me from which things
might be hung-- I already had jewelled earrings on! Then Helene looked at
my breasts and I knew.
ÒOh! Not my nipples,Ó I gasped. But Helene drew close to me and
took hold of one of my breasts. As my aunt held my hand she pinched the
tip of my right breast. I screamed fearfully. Then a clamp was applied. It
bit into my flesh, and a bell hanging from it rang as I shook myself and
tried to break free. The clamp held. The bell made a melodious sound.
Helene put a clamp to my other breast and now I was a collection of bells;
two on my tits, one hanging down from my cunt, one sticking seductively
from between the cheeks of my ass.
ÒYou too,Ó Helene said to Rebecca, and put bell-laden clamps on her
nipples.
ÒOh, this is awful!Ó my aunt said, when she had been fitted-out. The
presence of the bells on our nipples and dangling from our cunts and nether
holes made us concentrate on those parts of ourselves. Real clothes were
designed to cover the naughty places on the body. But these bells, these
infuriating little things, drew attention to our most intimate spots, and
made the men pay attention to those parts of ourselves. For our nipples
could still be seen. Their ruby tips extruded beyond the clamping jaws of
the bells. And our cunts, with the bells hung on them, actually were more
visible, for our lips were drawn down where the weighted bells were
attached. Only our nether holes, stuffed with spring-loaded clamps that
pressed outward rather than in, were actually concealed by the bells. But
with our cheeks prised apart by the bellsÕ presence, the effect was truly
obscene. Imagine having something sticking out of your ass, like a tail!
Imagine it ringing!
ÒGod, I want to cum!Ó my favorite male said frankly, his dark eyes
flashing with lust. The men had taken seats on several pieces of
equipment, lounging easily on them, and they had lit up cigars and were
smoking.
ÒWith age comes the virtue of patience,Ó our host told him. ÒI wish
to savor these girls in their unmarked state for awhile. How delicate and
pretty they look, with their pinned-up hair, their white skin, and their
jewels and their bells. Walk about, girls! You will find liquor there,
beyond that upraised wheel. Bring us drinks, that we may get drunk on
wine, as well as on your beauty.Ó
With mincing steps, ringing like church bells with our every
movement, my aunt and I stepped past a wooden wheel made for torturing
the body. We looked at it; black cuffs hung from it, waiting to receive a
victimÕs arms and legs.
ÒOH, hurt us now, if you must!Ó my aunt wailed. She turned and
grabbed hold of the edge of the wheel. She gazed up at it. One of her nails
broke as she pressed her fingers to the wood. ÒOh!Ó my aunt cried. She
looked at her broken nail and put her finger to her lips. She sucked upon it.
ÒNow look what youÕve done!Ó Helene scolded. She was holding her
riding crop again, and she slapped my auntÕs bottom with it. My aunt
flinched. She let out a moan. Her other hand, still gripping the side of the
wheel, flew back and attempted to shield her ass.
ÒDo as youÕre told,Ó Helene said. She whacked my auntÕs hand where
it was trying to cover her ass. My aunt quickly withdrew her hand, leaving
her bottom bare, unprotected.
ÒOh, here is the liquor auntie!Ó I called out. I had found the wet bar
and was staring at row after row of bottles. They were discreetly hidden
within the wet barÕs counter. Glasses were there too, polished and
gleaming. There was a fresh towel, folded, hanging from a rack.
I mixed drinks for myself and my aunt. Rebecca stood over me,
rubbing her bottom, intending, I think, to help, but actually too nervous to
do anything. Helene had only given her ass a light slap, but like an animal
overcome by emotion, my aunt kept rubbing her fanny with her hand
anyway. She watched me mixing the drinks but did not really see what I
was doing, for when I put cream soda in a glass, instead of 7-Up, my aunt
said nothing.
We served the men their drinks. My tray shivered in my hands as I
made the rounds. My bells tinkled with my every step. Can you imagine
what it felt like, having weighted bells hanging off my nipples and my
pussy? I could think of nothing but those parts of myself; my stiffly
aroused tits, my wettening pussy. Perhaps the worst bell of all was the
one that was wedged into my ass. It made my rear-end ring like a
telephone!
I expected the men to manhandle me as I served out their drinks, or
at least to molest my aunt, but they did not. That made me even more
worried; for it was as if they were saving their strength, knowing what
they must do to us later.
I was chilly in the large room. My nipples, aroused by the weight of
the bells, would have risen even without them, due to the cold. There was
a fireplace in a corner, but the fire was low and did not provide much heat.
Torches, already lit when we entered, clung to the walls, providing
flickering illumination. Everything about the room struck me as medieval;
the roomÕs only concession to modernity was the row of electric dildos
mounted upon a high shelf.
Nonetheless, as the men continued to act in a most gentlemanly
manner, my worries eased. I became bolder. I deliberately began to walk
sexily, wiggling my ass and teasing them with the jiggling of my bare
flesh. My aunt, perhaps because she was responsible for me, kept a
nervous look on her face. So I went over to her at last and patted her
fanny.
ÒYou have a nice bottom, auntie,Ó I said to her teasingly.
ÒShhh! Do not!Ó my aunt replied.
ÒOh, they are only looking, auntie,Ó I said of the men. ÒThey wouldnÕt
dare spank us. WeÕre too young!Ó Indeed, some of the men had grey hair,
like Bill Clinton. Perhaps theyÕd learned from him to look but not touch.
ÒYuck! This drink tastes awful!Ó a man cried.
ÒOoops. That must be my Cream Soda Special,Ó I said. ÒI put too
much cream soda in one of the drinks.Ó I looked at the man. He had carried
a drink from the house out with him. So he was just now starting the one
I had served him here.
ÒIt tastes awful,Ó the man said angrily. ÒIt felt like I was drinking
a candy store!Ó The other men laughed.
I walked over to the man and took the drink from him. I suppose I
should have felt quite nervous, but I was feeling frisky in my nudity
instead, like a child running about naked after its bath.
ÒIf you donÕt like it, then I do!Ó I said boldly. I put the drink to my
lips and freely drank it. The cream soda in it hid the taste of the liquor.
ÒChloe!Ó my aunt cried. She was not terribly fond of seeing me drink
liquor, especially when we were in such extreme circumstances as these.
She dashed over to me. Feeling more gay and carefree than ever, I turned
to her. There was a big smile on my face. I liked my Cream Soda Special,
even if the man didnÕt. I put my hand between my auntÕs legs. I cupped her
bell and jostled it, making it ring.
How like a sac of balls that bell felt, hanging between my auntÕs
legs! It was like feeling a man. My aunt stared at my hand with a shocked
look on her face. Then, quite unexpectedly, she relaxed. I heard her
breathe a big sigh of relief. I stood there fondling her bell, causing her
sexual excitement. Manipulated by my fingers, the bell tugged at the lips
of her pussy.
ÒOh, Chloe!Ó my aunt sighed. A smile appeared on her face. Feeling
ridiculous, IÕm sure, but happy at last in her nudity, my aunt reached
between my own legs and began playing with my bell. I laughed. How silly
it was to have a big thing hanging down from my cunt, tugging impishly at
my cunt lips, and ringing to boot!
ÒVery nice, girls,Ó Helene said. ÒNow you are getting into the spirit
of things!Ó She walked over to us. I cringed; thinking she would slap my
bottom with her riding crop, but instead she simply put a palm on my
fanny. She put one on my auntÕs too, and rubbed our asses, making them
warm. I liked how she warmed my bottom so gently, in this cold room.
ÒMmmm,Ó I said. I felt sensual. I looked up at Helene and smiled,
enjoying the feel of her hand on my ass and the weight of my auntÕs bell in
my hand. I sighed and the bells on my breasts tinkled. The men watched,
their eyes bright with lust.
ÒNow girls,Ó Helene said. She reached for the bells dangling from
our asscracks and manipulated them with her fingers. It felt like she was
fondling a turd that was coming out of my ass. With soft, inviting words,
she said, ever so softly, ÒWould you like to explore the pleasures of the
dungeon?Ó
ÒOh no,Ó my aunt sighed. But I was fairly mesmerized by the strange
equipment, and with liquor in my belly and bells titillating my privates I
said, ÒThe pleasure, but not the pain!Ó
ÒAnd if the two are intermingled, if you cannot have one without the
other?Ó Helene asked me.
ÒOh-- I do not know then,Ó I admitted.
ÒThen you must do exactly as I say, child, and let me guide you,Ó
Helene told me. I shivered against her palm. She ran a finger up my
asscrack and my cheeks squeezed against it, trying to trap it. The bell
hanging from my bottom jangled freely.
ÒOh, she is too young!Ó my aunt said. The worried look returned to
her face.
ÒShe has breasts and a bottom-- how shapely she is!Ó Helene said.
ÒAnd the men desire to see you punish her, dear Rebecca. Else they will do
it themselves. Which do you prefer?Ó
ÒOh, auntie! You must not let them!Ó I cried. I threw myself against
my aunt. I felt the warmth of her body against mine and was quite
grateful for it. The room was indeed cold. I rubbed my bell-laden breasts
against hers. My belly pressed hotly upon her own.
Rebecca looked at Helene. At the same time she patted my head
reassuringly. ÒI- I will not punish her,Ó Rebecca insisted.
ÒOH, thank you, auntie!Ó I blathered. But pressed up against my aunt,
feeling our mingling heat, I began to be excited. Strange thoughts flitted
through my head. Thoughts of me wailing as she spanked me, of me
arousing the men with my suffering.
ÒIt is far better that you should do it,Ó I heard Helene insist.
ÒOh-- but with a brine soaked birch?Ó my aunt asked, remembering
the menÕs choice of implements.
ÒIt will not hurt her excessively. She is in need of some discipline,
donÕt you think?Ó Helene asked in a coaxing voice.
ÒShe is always in need of discipline,Ó my aunt said frankly, still
patting my head.
ÒThen it is settled,Ó Helene said. My aunt must have given her a look
of denial for she added, ÒDo not argue with me, Rebecca. You know the men
must have their fun. They are offering you a choice. Take it, or your own
bottom will burn with your refusal.Ó
ÒOh, auntie, you must not!Ó I cried, but I squirmed against her
salaciously, loving the warm feeling of her nudity, of her female parts
pressed to my own. My aunt cupped my ass cheeks and said,
ÒIt will not hurt much. I promise.Ó
ÒAuntie,Ó I sighed. I kissed her lips. She kissed mine. We stood
there for several minutes, just kissing, savoring the feel of each otherÕs
bodies. Our mouths meshed wetly.
ÒShe has agreed,Ó Helene announced to the men. ÒTwo will punish
three. They are both agreed.Ó
ÒDo not hurt me, auntie,Ó I sighed into my auntÕs lips.
ÒI wonÕt,Ó Rebecca answered, between kisses.
ÒJust a little, if you must, promise just a little,Ó I said, still
kissing my aunt.
ÒJust-- a-- little,Ó Rebecca answered, each pause a prolonged kiss.
ÒDonÕt make me cry too much, auntie,Ó I said.
ÒOnly a few tears, so that you are surely feeling it,Ó Rebecca
answered.
ÒBut not too many,Ó I said.
ÒJust like when you get stung by a bee, perhaps?Ó Rebecca asked me.
ÒOh, that is too many,Ó I said. We kissed some more, until finally
Helene said,
ÒIf you keep kissing this will have to count against you both.Ó
30
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