Message-ID: <1063eli$9706021210@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: Path: qz!news.accessus.net!not-for-mail X-Path-Preload: news.accessus.net preloaded to thwart rogue canceller there Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: From: Andrew Roller Subject: Dungeon of Desire part 6 of 6 (NND) --------------------------------------------------------------- PROBLEMS? Please try viewing this with Netscape Navigator. --------------------------------------------------------------- _/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/ Andrew Roller Presents NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS in DUNGEON OF DESIRE _/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/ Epilogue Please don’t condemn me for how I make my living. If you’re a woman, don’t feel sorry for me. Don’t make up reasons why I should not do this. I can’t say I like it, but it’s a living, and it beats most of the careers I’ve seen professional yuppie women take up. Their schedules, their conflicts, their false egotistical way of presenting themselves to the world. I’ve observed them, and I don’t want to be like them. Not now. Not while I’m still young. I want to stay free. I don’t want to have wrinkles, at least not prematurely. I just want to be me. But I do need money, and hardworking men need a little fun now and then. So I do what I do. And they pay me very handsomely for it. That’s a must with me: being paid well. If you can’t pony up the money I can’t drop my dress. I tell them that sometimes, and they know I mean it. I work discreetly. Not out on the street like common, run-of-the-mill girls. I work in executive suits or private apartments, the apartments successful men keep when they want to have fun away from their wives. I drive I nice car. It’s red and I have to be careful where I park it so it won’t get broken into. Also, I like to park as close as I can to my assignments. Today I went to one of them. It was bright and sunny outside. I parked my Chevy Blazer in an underground garage after working hours, downtown, where all the best assignments are. It’s a small garage, under a bookstore, although I’ve never been in it. I just use their lot. I stepped down out of my Blazer. I wore a skin-tight blouse, white, just as my client instructed. I could feel my bosoms bounce as my heel hit the pavement but my client had specifically forbidden me to wear a bra. In the corner of the lot, just pulling in behind me (no doubt to buy books) I saw a nerd emerge from his car. He wore glasses and had uncombed hair and I knew instantly he had seen me. I could almost feel him drool as I turned and walked briskly up the ramp to the alley that ran behind the garage. I had long bare legs and I reached behind myself to check that my miniskirt wasn’t bunched from my sitting on it. I tugged on the hem where the dress fell to cover my bottom, checking it and smoothing it a little. Even the softest breeze would lift my skirt and show my panties. I didn’t want to have any creases that might make me worse off than I was. I walked briskly. I could feel the nerd’s eyes on me and, although it was warm and still afternoon, I knew a girl with mile-long legs in a short skirt (not to mention no bra) was a sought after spectacle. Above me tall glass towers loomed, with late-leaving workers in them perhaps, peering down. Along the alley might come other pedestrians, delighted to see me, stopping to stare as I passed, hoping the wind might catch my skirt and reveal me. My client, I think, watched me as I approached. He was waiting upstairs to paddle me. Did he see me check my skirt to see that it covered my ass? Probably. He savored my uncertainty in these moments. He told me that soon the building next to the bookstore would be renovated and construction workers would be laboring there. But not today. I crossed the alley and followed it down to its far end and stepped into the lobby of his apartment complex. I caught an elevator upstairs. I walked down the hall to his door and knocked. “Come in,” a voice said. It was unfamiliar. I entered anyway. This was one of my regular appointments. I visited every week for my spanking. “Oh, who are you?” I asked when my eyes met the person who’d pulled back the door. “I’m Shantila. Are you surprised that I’m a woman?” she asked. She had dark black hair and pale white skin and wore a red jacket and red matching red dress and black hose. “Well, yes,” I said. “Don’t worry. I’ll give you the same paddling you always get,” she replied. “And pay you the same, of course. Johnson’s away this week. An emergency. But he didn’t want you to go without your weekly spanking.” I put a hand to my throat. “How considerate,” was all I could say. My voice felt weak in my throat. “Do you always get right to business?” she asked. “Yes,” I answered. “My Master’s time is very valuable.” Johnson wasn’t my master, of course. Nobody was, now. Now that I’d learned and been properly trained at Sauron’s. I belonged to myself. But Johnson delighted in hearing me call him ‘Master.’ All my clients did. So I obliged every one of them. Shantila took my hand. It was limp but hers was certain in its grip. She led me over to the desk where I always received my paddling. It was a big desk, wooden. It had a polished surface and there was always a little cushiony pillow waiting for me there, for me to rest my tummy on. “Please drop your dress and your panties and bend over,” Shantila told me. I unzipped myself in back, just like I did every week. I was in private now. I could show my panties without getting arrested. Shantila emitted a little sigh as she saw my undies. My dress fell to my ankles and I stepped gracefully out of it. I bent over and picked it up. My panties molded my beautiful ass, leaving the top halves of my cheeks exposed. They were sheer and had little pink bows on the sides. “My, what a gorgeous ass!” Shantila commented as I laid my dress neatly on the corner of the desk. “Thank you,” I said. I reached for the ribbons of my panties. “You wear such lovely underwear,” Shantila said happily. “Johnson, I mean Master, likes it too,” I replied. I slipped the ties of my drawstrings. “But he makes me take them off so they won’t get damaged.” “Yes. We must do it just like always,” Shantila agreed. “He uses a paddle on you?” “Umhmmm,” I replied, letting my panties drop seductively down my legs. I could just draw them off my hips but Johnson always liked seeing them slide down my thighs. And, I think, he liked seeing me have to bend over to pick them up off the floor. Shantila went to a dresser and opened it. “Which one?” she asked, looking into the top drawer. I picked up my panties and laid them on top of my dress. “The biggest one,” I replied. “The one with the holes in it so it will fly faster through the air.” “Oh, you mean this one,” Shantila said. I glanced back over my shoulder. She drew a large, thin wooden paddle out of the drawer. It was raw wood. It had holes in it. I shivered. “Yes, that’s the one. It swings quite fast,” I said in a trembly voice. I touched my hands to my cheeks. They were so white and soft-sleeping now, but soon they’d be burning. “Bend over, please,” Shantila said in a business-like voice. I fitted the pillow cushion securely against my tummy and then bent forward and lay myself across Johnson’s desk. Shantila didn’t have to tell me to spread my legs. I knew I was required to show my cunny as best I could and my asshole. I planted my feet a good two yards apart and lay my fists by my face. I bit my lip. “Does he gag you? Does he restrain you in any way?” Shantila asked me. I sighed and tried not to think of the big paddle she was holding in her hands. “It depends on how much time he has and how good I was last time,” I replied truthfully. I let a little shiver run down my spine as I worried at her next question. “Were you good last time?” she asked. I held my breath. I didn’t want to answer. “No,” I replied. She tossed her hair back, contemplated me. “What did you do?” she asked firmly. She enjoyed my submissiveness. “I- He-” “Yes?” “He hit me very hard and I couldn’t keep from screaming. And I grabbed my bottom to save it,” I said. “Tsk! Then you’ll need to be restrained and gagged,” Shantila replied. I said nothing. She went back to the dresser. She returned with a rope. It was white and soft but I feared it all the same. Shantila bound it round each of my wrists as I lay with them at my face on the table. Then she pulled both my wrists out in front of my head. She bound the free end of the rope tightly around an old radiator behind the desk. It didn’t work, but it was very firmly bolted to the floor. Shantila fetched a gag. She urged my lips apart and carefully fitted the gag between them. Then she tied the ends of the gag behind my head, in my hair. She stroked my hair down off my back so she could see all of me. Shantila stepped behind me again. She was about to restrain my feet when the doorbell rang. I froze. This had happened once before. It had been a mere salesman, and Johnson had turned the person away, but I had felt mortified lying over his desk, just out of view of the door, with my hands tied to his radiator. Shantila, sensing a unique opportunity, went to the door. “Yes, may I help you?” she asked, opening it. “Hello, madam. Have you had an uplifting experience today?” I heard a voice ask. “No, but I know somebody who’s about to...” Shantila said. “Would you like to talk to her?” I felt fear grip my tummy. How could she? This was unspeakable. I heard a sniffle, as if the salesman had a runny nose. “Well, actually, I don’t mean to intrude. Perhaps if you’d just purchase one for her,” the voice continued. “Come in, you dolt. Do you have to be dragged in?” Shantila snapped. I don’t know if she grabbed him or not but, a moment later, to my intense embarrasment, I found myself glancing back over my shoulder and coming face to face with the nerd! It was the same one who’d drooled over me as I checked my skirt on my way up here. How had he managed to...? I gazed at his rumbled shirt and his (non-matching, of course) short pants. He must have followed me! He had a big handful of sales literature for something or other. I yanked at my bonds. I kicked one of my legs back, trying to break free of my totally awful predicament. Who knew what this book worm would say about me? Could I ever park in the garage again, knowing he might be lurking there, waiting for me and hoping to score a peek at my ass? “She does have a lovely ass, doesn’t she?” Shantila asked the nerd. She could see his fixation with my heinie and it bothered her not when he failed to reply at all. His mouth hung open and his tongue seemed to have trouble staying behind his teeth. I watched to my mortification as a drooling drip of saliva formed on his tongue and dropped toward the floor. “Are you...are you...” the nerd stammered. “Am I going to spank her? Yes. She gets spanked here once a week. She’s paid for it. Would you like to watch? She has little say in the matter, as you can see...” “Um, yes. Do you think she’d like to buy some MiracleGlow brass cleaner too?” the nerd asked. “It’s good for polishing... your brass.” “I’ll polish your ass if you speak to me again of buying anything,” Shantila said. “What do you think this is, the Internet?” “Um, no. Though it’s sort of like...” the nerd said, gazing at my ass. “Could I take pictures of her and upload her ass to all my buddies? I need some new porn to trade and stuff.” “Just watch and enjoy,” Shantila said. She put a finger to his lips to quiet him. Then she made a face and drew her finger away and shook it in the air. “You’re drooling!” she scolded him. “Confine your drooling to your member, please!” “Do you have a magazine I could use or anything?” the nerd asked. He unzipped himself. I felt like a lavatory! “Zip up, boy. It’s bad enough you’re drooling your spit all over the carpet. I don’t need to clean up your jism too. I’d advise you not to cum if you intend to wander all around inside this building selling your...” “MiracleGlow Brass Cleaner! It’s the best!” the nerd said. He proffered his booklets again. “I don’t see any...” Shantila said. She grabbed the booklets from him. “You have to ORDER it! I just collect money and give you a booklet to show you’ve bought and how to use...” the nerd followed Shantila to the window. She raised it and flung his booklets out into the open air. I felt the warm air of the city flow in and touch me upon my heinie. “What are you doing to my literature?!” the nerd shrieked. He watched in horror as all his booklets went flying out onto the wind, to compete with the pigeons in the air. Shantila closed the window. “They’ll all still be down there on the pavement waiting for you to pick them up after you’re done,” she smiled. And it was true, I knew. They’d all be down there, lying in the alley. “Well...” the nerd paused. His eyes darted from the window to my bottom. He put a contempletive finger beneath his chin. “Here. Clean your glasses,” Shantila said to him. She ripped a kleenex from its paper box and handed it to him. Shantila came up behind me. I struggled in my bonds but it was fruitless. She directed the nerd to bring her a spreader bar from the chest of drawers to keep my legs apart. He complied. He found the bar and brought it to her but he couldn’t open its telescoping ends. She had to pull it apart for him. Then she had him bend down and affix it between my ankles. “Ow!” the nerd cried. He injured his finger trying to buckle my ankles into the bar. Finally, after much effort, he succeeded. I felt like kicking him but Shantila was standing right there with the paddle. Shantila rubbed my bottom. Her touch was light. “Ready?” she asked me. I hesistated, then nodded briefly. I’d come here for this. She would pay me when it was over. Shantila drew back her hand. And the nerd did a strange thing. He plopped right down behind me, sitting on the floor, and squeezed his legs together. Then he pulled a small spiral notebook out of his shirt. He grabbed a pen from behind his ear. “What are you doing?” Shantila asked him. “I’m going to write all this down!” the nerd said happily. “I mean, if you won’t let me take photos... of course I’d need to borrow a camera from you if you have one...” “No photos,” Shantila said firmly. “I do have some respect for her privacy.” She nodded perfunctorily at me, but I was grateful for it. “Okay, then. Just paddle away and I’ll write it all down for the guys on the Internet!” the nerd grinned. I couldn’t see him but I could hear his voice and it certainly sounded like he was grinning. “What are you going to write... SPLAT?” Shantila asked. “Um, don’t worry. I’ll add in some extra stuff and name it after this girl at school who calls me a nerd,” the nerd answered. “Alright then,” Shantila said. And, as if inspired by his reportage to give me a really sumptuous punishment, she struck me as hard as she could. THE END ----------------------- Dreamgirls! ----------------------- -Free e-mail subscriptions: No longer available due to mailbombing of my Internet account(s) by right-wing Christians. -Currently I am: roller39@mail.idt.net -formerly I was andrewroller@sprintmail.com, roller66@inreach.com, roller666@aol.com Read my complete works under these names by going to: http://www.excite.com (Click on ‘newsgroups’ and search under my various former screen names). (Also you can read irrelevant bullshit posted by right-wing Christians.) -Recent back issues at Usenet newsgroup: alt.sex.stories.moderated -For all back issues, send e-mail to: file.request@backdrop.com - Free plug: http://www.netusa.net/files/Authors/eli/www/erotica/assm/ -Free minicomics: send a stamped, self-addressed envelope & age statement to: Jim Corrigan, P.O. Box 3663, Phenix City, AL 36868 - JOIN the world’s greatest organization! Send $35.00 to The North American Man/Boy Love Association for a one-year membership. NAMBLA, P.O. Box 174, Midtown Station, New York, NY 10018. -Naughty Naked Dreamgirls (Library of Congress ISSN: 1070-1427) is copyright 1997 and a trademark of Andrew Roller. Work by others copyright 1997 by the respective copyright holder. -END OF 272 EMISSION -- +--------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `------------+ | story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us | story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us | | Archive site +--------------------+------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | \ .../assm/faq.html> /