Message-ID: <1198eli$9706041404@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: Love Child part 6 of 15 (NND) --------------------------------------------------------------- PROBLEMS? Please try viewing this with Netscape Navigator. --------------------------------------------------------------- _/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/ Andrew Roller Presents NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS in LOVE CHILD _/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/ Chapter Six My bottom was nicely healed by evening. Master said that as his new slave I must have my teeth inspected. Elena dressed me in a short skirt and pullover sweater. It had long sleeves. She made me put on schoolgirl stockings, up over the knees, but said I wouldn't need panties. I slipped on shiny black ankle boots with immoderately high heels. A servant drove me to the dental office. It was to be an evening appointment. "They're staying open late, just to accommodate you," Elena had said to me as she kissed me goodbye. She promised to keep the bed warm for me until I got back. "Will you two make love while I'm gone?" I asked plaintively. Master kissed my forehead, father-like. It was a simple benediction. "You carry my seed with you," he said. It might be true, I thought, though Elena and I had douched ourselves for him in the bathroom. He'd enjoyed watching us. We'd hidden nothing from his eyes. Elena had insisted that everything, even a woman's most private moments, must be bared to master. We could keep no secrets from him for we were his property. Even our poop belonged to him, if he wanted it. And if he wished for us to poop for others, we would most surely be required to. Even mounting silver trays to do it, if he wished, in a ballroom full of people. I could not imagine myself doing such a humiliating thing, but thought it best to keep my mouth shut. If I argued the point he'd have me pooping within the hour. It was cold and windy when the servant let me out of the limo in front of the dentist's. There was a light rain. He did not accompany me up to the door. I stepped over and into puddles and silently thanked Elena for making me wear boots. My skirt, though, was another matter, for I had to keep it pulled tightly down with my hands lest it flip up and show my bottom. Across the street a bar was open. I heard a whistle. I glanced back over my shoulder. Quickly I knocked to be let in. The door opened and a woman received me. Startled, I saw that she was plump and had a child in tow. "Bye, bye," a youthful voice called from a counter at the opposite end of the room. "Good evening," the woman said, and went out. The door clicked shut and locked itself behind her. "Hi! You're our last patient for the evening," A cheery female said from behind the check-in counter. "Could I just get you to fill this out?" She lifted a clipboard with a form attached. I walked up to the counter to take it. "Hi, my name's Gretchen. I'm the dental assistant," a girl, barely older than myself, smiled at me. Her hair was done up in a loose bun. It was golden blonde, as radiant as her personality. She wore a white nurse's jacket, surprisingly decollete, within which loomed a very round, very high set pair of bosoms. The upper curves of their satiny surfaces casually exposed themselves. She seemed to have no bra on underneath. A blouse was, obviously, out of the question. Around her neck Gretchen wore a neatly tied white chiffon scarf. She must have tugged at it, though, while doing figures or something, for I saw that the scarf was intended to hide a collar underneath. It was slim and black, like a dog's collar. I wondered if she had a master like I did. Taking the clipboard, I turned to a chair. I brushed my skirt under my fanny and held it there until I'd sat down. I crossed my legs. Then I looked at the form. I gasped. It had nothing to do about teeth. Its first question asked me the last time I'd had an orgasm, and whether I'd enjoyed it. I was asked to rate the orgasm on a scale of 1 to 10. The questions got worse from there. "Just fill out what you can," Gretchen advised me sweetly. "If you haven't had some of the procedures yet, just skip them." I gazed at the form. Enemas, piercing, branding... "Have you had all of these?" I asked, looking up. "Of course not, I'm only 16," Gretchen replied happily. It was as if I'd asked her whether she'd graduated high school, the way she replied. She was earnestly upbeat, air-headed. I poked my way through the form and then got up and handed it back to her. "Fine, thank you, I'll leave it for the dentist's inspection," she said, not looking at it. "Would you like to come back into the office now and get ready?" She rose. Her eyes beckoned. I let her lead me back, through a door. We entered a room equipped with a dentist's chair, a sink, instruments. "Please take off all your clothes," Gretchen said dispassionately, sweetly. "My?" I couldn't help but stammer. "You are the last appointment," Gretchen replied. "Didn't your...boyfriend...request the last appointment for you?" "Um, yes," I said. There was no arguing it. Master had set this up for me. It was his will. "Do you need any help?" Gretchen asked, a puzzled look on her face. "Um, no," I said, and crossed my arms over my waist. I grasped my sweater and pulled it up. My boobies wobbled deliciously as my sweater crossed over them. I felt shy, yet excited. The woolen pullover had tickled my titties to coral-tipped hardness. Gretchen took my sweater from me and hung it in a closet. I reached behind myself and unzipped my skirt. It dropped to my ankles, I stepped out of it, bent over, picked it up and gave it to gretchen. "You have pretty legs," she said admiringly. "But leave your stockings on." She folded my dress over a hanger in the closet. "And your shoes, too." Apprehensively I settled into the dentist's chair. Its vinyl surface was chilly against my skin. "Sit up," Gretchen advised. She opened a drawer in a counter next to the chair. She took out a pair of handcuffs. "Some patients like to squirm," she explained. "I'm very well behaved," I protested. "Up!" she said, in a cheerful yet no-nonsense tone. I sat up in the dentist's chair and she twisted my back toward her, holding me by my shoulders. Then she drew my arms behind me and handcuffed my wrists together. "You may sit back now," she said happily. I sat back, aware of my bosoms, how they seemed to bloom up from my chest. They were lily-white, with stiff, cherry nipple tips. I pressed my legs together. I would be modest there, at least. Gretchen sensed my insecurity. "Don't be afraid," she said. "Girls come here all the time to be inspected. I've seen three already and its only my first week." She turned to a mirror, let down her hair, shook it out. Businesslike she opened her jacket to expose her breasts. Her nipples were risen, springy, pink candy. She touched them to make sure they were properly hard. I felt she did it simply because she'd been told to, not because she needed to. She was already brimming with youthful energy. Her teats looks as vibrant as any 16-year-old's could. "Have you been...inspected?" I asked. My nipples, already hard, seemed to grow more rigid at the sound of my question. Gretchen untied her chiffon scarf. The dog collar gleamed beneath. A lock kept it securely closed. "Oh yes," Gretchen replied. "The dentist expects me to be in tip-top shape to work here. It wouldn't be fair to the patients if I wasn't." She reached back, unzipped her skirt. It fell to the floor, leaving her only in her little nurses' jacket. She wore a pair of miniscule white panties which struggled to contain her pert bottom. She bent over, straining the semi-sheer undies to the breaking point, it seemed. They were already torn in several places, gaping rents running right across the seat. "Why are your panties torn?" I asked. "Ohh, master whipped me," she said. "I was bad. I deserved it. He let me keep my panties on, but they didn't help much. Now he insists I wear these panties every day to remind me I'm a bad girl." Her bottom was white, whatever she'd suffered. I wondered if she was due for another whipping tonight. She hung up her dress in the closet next to mine. Turning around, Gretchen put a hand down the front of her panties. "Excuse me. I'm required to "heat up," as master says, before I call him. He says I'm way too tight for a 16-year-old girl, a "big girl," as he likes to say. He thinks if I rub myself a lot it will loosen me. Totally ridiculous, of course," she rolled her eyes. "What's that?" a male voice called out. Gretchen gulped, pulled her hand out of her panties. She tugged on her jacket, as if to straighten it, as if it mattered, with her tits hanging out. Perhaps it did, though. It was a nicely starched jacket. "The patient is ready, doctor," Gretchen called nervously. "Very good. I hope you are too," the male voice answered. "Yes, doctor." She gave a compliant wiggle as he strode commandingly into the room. Looking up, I suddenly saw the office itself was out-of-the-ordinary, not just the workers. There were twin leather foot cuffs hanging from the ceiling! My legs, if lifted, would strap easily into them. All someone needed to do was lower the cuffs a little, and I had no doubt they could be lowered. I trembled. The dentist sat down beside me. He was large, broad-shouldered. "And how are we doing today?" he asked absently. Without donning gloves he pried open my mouth, introduced a dental pick into it. I shivered as he set about testing my fillings. "Fine, fine," he said. "You take very good care of your teeth. Your master will be pleased." Then he put down his dental pick. He poured some fluid into my mouth, had me swish it around, then raise myself up and spit it out into a sink. It tasted of lemons. When I'd laid back again he surprised me. "There are other parts of you that I'm qualified to examine," he said. "And I'm equipped with a special instrument to examine those parts," he added. He unzipped himself. "Not--not today, please," I said. "Oh, but this is not something a young lady who is a love slave can refuse," he said. Freeing his cock, he proceeded to carefully examine my nipples. He used a blunted dental pick, and his fingers. "Nice, very nice," he observed. Then he looked at me directly. "Your master says you are too tight. However, I can assist. Gretchen?" The dental assistant took one of my ankles and lifted it up. I knew where it was going, knew I could not refuse. "I-I don't want," I protested. He stroked my tummy. "Hmmm, you could use a little obedience training, just like Gretchen here," he said. I gazed solemnly at my legs as Gretchen lifted them up, buckled them into the straps. Even as I watched the imprisoning of my legs, the preparations for my impending doom, I couldn't help but admire Gretchen. Her hands lofted overhead as she drew the cuffs lower, small, dainty, the youthful jut of her pretty breasts, her panties barely covering her pubic hair. She was an angel in white, in ripped panties. Carefully she buckled me into the cuffs. My legs were spread wide, my pussy fully exposed, my ass exposed too as my legs were drawn forward next, until my heels were directly over my head. "Sir!" I gaped. I felt like some upended sack of potatoes. "A perfect picture!" the dentist replied. "Gretchen, fetch the camera. Another splendid photo for our wall of shame." To my horror Gretchen got out a camera and took several pictures of me. The dentist assured me that his female customers, particularly the wealthy older ones, would take great pleasure in seeing a young girl thus displayed. "They're jealous, of course, of your beauty and youth, but its one of the perks I provide them with. For an extra fee, of course. All the best women in town come to see me." "You're a beast!" I said. "An animal, as you'll see," he chuckled. "That's not funny," I replied. "But you'll laugh or I'll gag you." I didn't laugh, but just glared at him, my makeup still impeccable, my stare hot and defiant. "So delightfully naughty," was his only reply. "There! Now you're all ready!" Gretchen said happily, checking my ankle cuffs one last time. She slid off her panties and, to my shock, stuffed them in her mouth. She presented herself to the dentist, her behind towards him, and he took a strip of black cloth and gagged her with it. Gretchen opened a drawer and took out a flexible lifelike dildo, complete with hanging testicles. They were bulging already with some nefarious substance that had been pumped into them. Gretchen slipped on the cock and, with her master's help, cinched it up tightly into her loins. It doubled as a crack belt. Gretchen's mouth gaped in a rictus of startled alarm as the belt was drawn firmly into place. It ran down between her ass cheeks, giving them an extra outward thrust as it separated them. The lips of her pussy were divided by the rope, which pressed between them, isolating her clitty and ruthlessly stimulating it. Recovering herself, Gretchen waddled over to me, her big sausage of a cock bobbing between her legs. She reached down and squeezed the sac beneath the cock. A shot of warm white cream fired from the ersatz penis and landed on my nose. Gretchen and the dentist laughed. "See?" Gretchen said gaily. "He gave me my very own penis!" She mounted me, awkwardly, the dentist giving her bottom a helpful push. She settled on my chest and thrust the cock at me. "Suck," she commanded. Reluctantly I accepted the rubber dick between my lips as the dentist presented his own organ to my cunt. With a grimace I received them both. Gretchen at my mouth, the dentist ramming himself into my womb. I hated my master for turning me over to these two. Gretchen was a silly air-head, the dentist a brooding, uncaring lout. Fucking me, he took up a birch rod and began beating Gretchen's bulging bottom. She deserved it, I thought, gagging on her fake cock as she broke into tears above me. Suddenly I heard sirens in the distance. My lovers seemed to start. For a moment the dentist ceased his flagellation. Then, quick as startled foxes, they fucked me ever more feverishly. Streams of sweet cream leapt into my mouth as Gretchen reached between herself and gave her rubber testicles quick squeezes. The dentist, doing his best within the confines of my youthful cunt, moved back and forth rapidly until he came, flooding me with his hot sperm. They both jumped up as soon as they were done, indeed, before they were quite done, for the dentist shot the last of his load against my thigh. He grabbed his red-bottomed assistant by her arm and yanked her through a door. "Don't leave without your cunt," I thought to myself. The dentist was unlikely to find such a compliant girl again if he lost this one. She seemed oblivious to his selfish nature. I determined then and there not to return to my master. He should not have given me over to a bum like this. The door through which my two tormentors had just escaped now opened to jack-booted policemen. The first through, in fact, was a woman in uniform. I cringed as she looked upon me, dispassionately, my cunt splayed wide and dripping semen, my mouth smeared with cream. After first photographing me in my bound state, as "evidence," the police untied me. With difficulty I stood up, asking for my clothes. When I'd dressed they took me down to the police station. I was locked in a room for "protection" and left there for hours. It was the beginning of a new life for me. Within a week I was working for the Argentine government as a secretary in the "Department of Classified Information." It was their local version of the Central Intelligence Agency. A kindly old gentleman had found me in the bowels of the police department, asked few questions, and set me up in my own apartment. He seemed to be very high up in the Argentine government, and said he needed a secretary. So, I instantly became a secretary. I was sure he wanted me for sex, but he only ever took me to dinner, then dropped me back at my apartment. We went out together often in the evening, sometimes went dancing afterward, though he only sat on the sidelines watching me dance with other men. I loved my new life. I was free, independent, save for the solicitude of my "savior," as I called him. Dancing in Buenos Aires' hottest clubs thrilled me. I got to be as provocative with the men in the clubs as I wished. It seemed to delight my savior to watch me strut my stuff and turn on all the men in the club. Yet, none of the men could have me, nor would I let them, for my savior was always only a few yards away, watching. Apparently he came to the clubs often, and I was his latest girl. They knew not to mess with his "merchandise," he explained to me once. Apparently the dentist had been running drugs, which is why the police closed in. I had been the unexpected prize of their raids. Someone in the police department had called my savior, knowing he was in need of a new girlfriend. He never told me he was married, but I figured he must be, for why else would he not have me put up at his house, where he could admire me all day long? Our relationship continued for several months. One day, sitting in my apartment sipping drinks after a lusty night on the town, he told me I was needed for "a mission of national importance." "You are so sweet," I said, smiling. "If you want me to suck your cock, just say so." He loved hearing me talk dirty. He'd even taught me all the dirtiest words in Spanish so I could say them to him in his limo, snuggling against him in the back seat. I'd become more forward with him lately. He never asked to take any liberties with me. At first I'd kept my distance, sure he was just saving me for some special moment. But as the weeks lengthened into months and he made no move, I began to tease him, a little at first, then more salaciously. Once I'd even let him into my apartment wearing only my panties, just to see what his reaction to me. He'd simply told me to get dressed. "Ah, I am past the pleasures of youth," he said to me now. "But there are those who are not, of course. Some of them live in England, and as you know England went to war with Argentina over the Falkland Islands some years ago, and won. We've been smarting from that defeat ever since. We need someone to go there as a spy, to London, and make friends with their government officials." I stared at him. Me? A spy? "You mean like Get Smart?" I asked. He chuckled. "Yes, you would be 99, and a young gay man would be Mr. Smart. We'll give you a visa saying you're 17-years-old, and his wife. That birthday of yours we celebrated, it was your 16th, wasn't it?" "Yes," I replied. "But I suppose I could pass for 17 if I worked at it." "Very good. As for this gay man, you'll live together, sleep in the same bed, and work together at the Argentine Embassy. With luck you two will make friends with the locals. I want you to target their people in M5, England's spy agency. Get to know them on a personal basis. With your good looks, sampling the parties around town, it shouldn't be too difficult. I'm giving your "husband" a list of the sorts of information we're looking for. But you can keep your eyes and ears open too, though your main job will be simply to be his lovely young wife." Within a week I and my new "husband" were in London. We toured the city, settled in, got invited to parties. I was an instant smash. Timothy, my "husband," was well-liked too, though the ladies admiring him had no idea he was gay. Soon we were wanted for our English friends more intimate parties. Timothy and I disembarked from a cab in the center of London. An evening mist had settled in, putting haloes around the all the streetlamps. Wreathed in mist, we knocked at the door of a sedate English townhouse. A carriage clattered by on the cobblestone street behind us. The door opened. A woman let us in. She was named Jenny and she was the hostess for the evening's soiree. I noticed at once that this might not be some mere political get-together. Jenny had a knowing smile on her lips. She wore a tight, thin blouse. Her nipples stuck up playfully, indenting it. It was the first time I'd been greeted at one of these affairs by a woman wearing no bra. I'd met Jenny before, and knew her to be a conservative MP's wife in her late-twenties. At least, that was her reputation. Jenny beckoned us to follow her. As we took up behind her I saw that she wore elegant jeans that seemed impossibly snug. As if in tacit admittance of this, the pants had been slit along the underside of each of her butt cheeks. Her skin flashed at me as she walked, showing just a little through each slit. Boots enclasped her feet and calves. She looked as if she'd been out riding, and the saddle had been just a little hard on her. But I knew the slits were made by a designer, not by long hours on a horse. A roomful of partiers awaited us. They stood about savoring Chablis and cheese-laden crackers. All were dressed casually. Tim and I were received warmly and handed drinks. As I turned to the woman nearest me, to chat, I saw that she too had nipples which stood out, covered only by the lightest of T-shirts. She wore clam-digger pants, tight jeans that were purposely cut off at mid-calf to allow one to go wading. The knees of the pants were artfully frayed. She wore sandals. Tim and I circulated, each of the couples we spoke to admiring us as we talked. The men all seemed to be wearing their pants with some difficulty, for each to a man had a prominent bulge in his crotch. Thinking I might find myself in their presence without their pants on, I began sizing them up. Quite a few were breathtakingly handsome. And not a few turned out to be members of M5, though they always referred to it simply as "the bureau." "Is everyone ready for our indoor barbeque?" Jenny asked at length of the group. Heads nodded. "It is in celebration of our new friends from the United States," Jenny said. Heads turned to acknowledge an assistant ambassador and his wife, from America. "Now ladies, remember, no tops allowed!" Jenny said. With that she pulled off her blouse. A plethora of wiggling titties came into view as each of the women present drew off her shirt. I looked at Tim, he nodded. I shed the vest I'd been wearing and unbuttoned my blouse. Slipping out of it, I still had to unhook my bra, for I actually was wearing one. "Let me!" a female cried, and helpfully undid the clasp. I shrugged off my bra and for the first time on English soil exposed my boobies to others. They gazed at me approvingly. Tim and I were led into an adjacent room, where a servant was preparing hamburgers and hot dogs on a hot grill. Baseball caps were passed out and we each put one on. Mine read "New York Yankees" and I rebelliously put it on backwards. Jenny smiled, handed me a hot dog. I bit off the end of it with relish. American tunes began playing in the background. We broke into dancing, our tits swaying, eating as we danced. Mustard and ketchup seemed to get squirted rather liberally, hitting a few of the girls on their tits. Helpful men licked off the stuff. The woman in the clam-digger pants came up to me with a squeeze-bottle of mustard in her hand. She hovered with it over my breasts. "May I?" she asked. "My husband loves to watch." Her mate grinned at me. I looked at Tim and he let me know with his eyes that it would be O.K. Expected, in fact, given our secret reason for being here. I smiled at the woman agreeably. Delicately she poised the bottle over my right nipple. It stuck up stiffly, waiting. I flinched as the tangy mustard squirted out, striking my nipple dead on. The woman built a little mountain with the yellow condiment on each of my teats. Then she bent and tongued each one thoroughly until it was clean, gleaming with her saliva. My tits shivered wetly as she lifted her face away from them. I could barely keep from immediately clapping my hands over my tits and rubbing them furiously, so delicious had her little tongue-bath been. She turned away from me then, offering her mustard bottle to another girl. I faced Tim. "Gosh, I can hardly stand still," I said. He grasped me by my bare waist, bent and blew helpfully on each of my upstanding nipples. "There, that should cool them," he said, his hot breath doing nothing of the sort. "Now, it is time for our debutante of the evening," Jenny announced, shouting to get the group's attention. The crowd quieted. The music abated. "Miss Bowman," Lord Bowman's daughter, has selected our party for her formal coming out," Jenny continued. "Wonder if Lord Bowman knows about this?" a young woman whispered in my ear. I smiled at her. She was the wife of an M5 officer. Her name was Candi, and she was very pretty. Ketchup decorated one of her breasts, left there for a moment by a male lover while Jenny introduced our new guest. "Please welcome Miss Melissa Bowman!" Jenny called out, and there was a smattering of applause. 'Here Comes the Bride' was struck up by the tape player. A winsome girl, no more than 14, stepped into the room. She had short, shoulder-length brown hair. Her face was nicely made up and she had an innocent, child-like look on it, though she strove to look sophisticated. She was narrow-shouldered, almost frail looking, with breasts that were just popping from her chest, pretty and well-rounded, but still with some growing to do. Her hips were slender. Around them was tied a brightly colored sarong, which flowed to her knees. It was in keeping with her general appearance, which was that of some Hawaiian girl, though she was undeniably English, with fine white skin and large, liquid blue eyes. She wore a poinsettia in her hair, with its naughty phallus-like stem. Several necklaces of beads dangled down between her sweetly jiggling breasts. She held a parasol in one hand, twirling it gently, and she had a bracelet around one wrist, carved from teak. Quietly our new guest walked out to us. Then she turned, and many in the crowd drew in their breath in delight as they saw that her sarong, tied in back, left her bottom utterly bare. It bulbed out, white and inviting, with the sarong hanging down on either side of it, little more than a glorified apron. Melissa's sleek long legs were equally bare, supporting her pert bottom, and her back, above the knot of the sarong, presented a lovely expanse of rib-indented skin, as if she were some slim little bird about to be eaten. Melissa gave her silken tushy a single wiggle, as if to taunt us. Then she turned back toward us and, advancing once more, lifted the front of her sarong. Casually she bared her pretty pussy. The group drew open to receive her, and she sashayed between us, her pussy displayed and her bottom wiggling sassily. At last Jenny broke the girl's charade by stepping out and blocking her path. "You flaunt your little body, but do you know what we have in store for it?" Jenny asked. Melissa looked up at her, chastened slightly, but still clinging to her sultry pretense. "I'm sure I can handle it, whatever it is," she said saucily. "Ah, such a temptress! Sit her on the grill and warm her buns!" Jenny cried. "No! No!" the girl gasped. She dropped her umbrella as two lusty men lifted her up and carried her over to the grill. They plopped her down as she screamed loudly. Then, silence. Melissa frowned at her tormentors. The grill was barely warm. It had been dutifully cooled down and scrubbed clean by the servants. Only the slightest hint of its former heat remained. Laughter erupted from the partiers as Melissa scooted herself off the grill and walked over and picked up her parasol. When she lifted her face again it was stained with tears. But she did not leave, as I thought she might. She brushed off the traces of charcoal on her bottom and went up to the nearest man and unzipped him. I admired her pluck. She was here to get fucked, and no amount of hazing was going to stop her. Jenny too seemed to admire her mettle. She walked up to the girl and stroked her back as Melissa fought apart the bulging trousers of her chosen male and pulled out his organ. It pulsed, and her fingers leapt over it like butterflies, admiring its length and size. Melissa knelt, ran her tongue over the flange, awkwardly tried to stuff the thing into her mouth. "Shall we admit this spirited young thing into our ranks?" Jenny asked aloud. There was a response of happy agreement. "Come, dear," Jenny said, separating Melissa from her prize. She drew the girl up by her hair, clasped her in her arms, kissed her lightly on her forehead. The group gathered in around her then. They pulled off her sarong, took away her parasol. All around me clothes came off as people passed around a bottle of baby oil and, filling their palms with the stuff, began rubbing it onto Melissa. Surprised, she could only stand and tremble as her breasts were fondled, her bottom petted, her legs parted and her pussy explored. Small protestations escaped her lips now and then as a finger delved especially deep in her ass or up her twat. Women as well as men went at her, their boobs wobbling gaily as they stood around her, some of them still in jeans. I myself still wore my pants as Tim urged me forward and I accepted a handful of gleaming oil. My eyes met Melissa's and she saw my own shyness as I patted her breasts. Some special awareness seemed to pass between us then, and I knew we might well spend more than this moment together, that I might bear witness to all her trials this evening. As I smeared the oil over her nipples she admired my own breasts. Her arms were held by others but she seemed to want to touch them for me. She winced as a penis intruded into her anus suddenly, taking her eyes off me. "It is good," Jenny said, and broke up the crowd then, freeing Melissa. But she was freed only so that Jenny might handcuff her. Then Jenny drew Melissa to a corner of the room and ordered her to bend over. Reluctantly the girl complied, and Jenny made her keep bending until her palms lay flat upon the floor. Then she ordered Melissa to spread her legs wide. Straining to remain bent over, Melissa complied, shuffling her feet apart until her stance was very wide indeed. Her bottom, lewdly outthrust, seemed to invite flagellation. A little fart escaped her tushy and Melissa blushed fiercely. "You will stay like that until I tell you to get up. Do you understand?" Jenny asked. The poor girl nodded. Then Jenny, herself still in jeans, reached up onto a shelf overhanging the girl and took down a single twig of birch. It had been stripped of most of its buds but a few remained. There was a ribbon tied around the thicker end, which Jenny held. She swished the birch several times in the air. "Do you know what this is for?" Jenny asked. Fearful now, Melissa nodded. She was indeed young, a mere slip of a girl. Her pendant breasts seemed like ripe tennis balls, with points on them. "What is it for?" "My bottom," Melissa half whispered, half husked in response. "Why am I going to spank your bottom with it?" Jenny asked. "I-I don't know..." Melissa's voice trailed off. "You do know," Jenny admonished. "It is because you are only 14 and your parents don't even know you're out tonight. It's because you're a virgin and you want to be deflowered. It's because you should be home doing your schoolwork but instead you're here, presenting your fanny to a group of adults, teasing the men with it and asking them to fuck you. Isn't that right?" Melissa nodded, her body shimmering wetly from the oil we'd slathered onto it. "And look, you're covered with baby oil, from letting people feel you all over. Your tits, your tummy, even your ass crack has oil in it. Naughty! Naughty! Naughty!" Jenny said, and whisked her bottom several times, sending Melissa howling, though she managed to remain bent over. "Have you ever been whipped before?" Jenny asked, as the first red marks became visible on the girl's beautiful ass. "O-Once," Melissa said, her mouth forming a pretty O. "When?" Jenny demanded. "In the basement. My girlfriend and me. We did it to each other," Melissa said, tears coming to her eyes, more from the humiliation of having to reveal her secret than from the marks of the whip. "Tch! Tch!" Jenny tutted, secretly pleased, I could tell, for a small smile posted itself on her lips. "And did your friend do it very hard?" "N-No," Melissa replied, gazing out at nothing in particular, her head cocked back halfway, half-turned to answer Jenny's question. "Well, this will hurt, so brace yourself," Jenny ordered. Melissa bit her lip. SWISH! SWISH! SWISH! Jenny played the birch over her then, lightly, but enough to make the girl feel it. Slim red lines marred her otherwise lily-white bottom. Melissa bore it well, keeping her hands upon the floor, her legs wide. The only hint of the pain she was suffering came from the way she lifted first one foot, then the other, not taking it off the floor but raising it up until she was standing on her toes. She continued this tip-toe dance in her open-toed sandals as Jenny, breasts swaying, flayed her. The woman spoke to the girl in erotic tones then, telling her of all the pleasures of adulthood: orgies, naked dancing, dungeons and enemas. Melissa, brave little girl that she was, nodded as Jenny made her agree to each of these, even though she clearly was hearing about many of them for the first time in her life. Quite a few of her nods were none too sure, her eyes wide, but there was little she could do except agree, for the birch could always be applied much harder. "Is your bottom getting sore?" Jenny asked. A vigorous nod from Melissa. "It is nothing compared to how sore your pussy will be when I turn my men loose on you. Do you think you'll be able to walk tomorrow?" Melissa seemed uncertain. She had not considered the implications of arousing a roomful of men. "You'll lay in bed all day tomorrow, your bottom hurting, your legs stiff, your pussy ravaged. What will your mommie and daddy think? What will you tell them when they ask you to come downstairs and feed the cat? 'Oh please, mumsie, I attended a sex party last night, my first, could you do it for me?' Hmm? Is that what you want, you naughty girl?" Jenny gave Melissa three harder cuts and it was all the girl could do to keep her hands on the floor. She arched her back, bucked her bottom, flexed her hind cheeks in an attempt to throw off the scorching heat. Jenny whistled at the view the girl was giving of herself. "Such a pretty ass. Thank you for letting us all admire it." Jenny gave Melissa a particularly juicy cut and the girl, unable to bear it, leapt up, grabbing her bottom and hooting like a little owl. Everyone broke into laughter. The girl settled down at last and turned her tear-stained face to Jenny. Hands still protectively on her ass, she regarded the woman with a mixture of anger and awe. Her little titties wiggled enchantingly. They had yet to taste mustard. Two women came up behind me. Their hands settled on the waist of my jeans. "Let's see your fanny," they whispered. I wore no belt. Their fingers unbuttoned me. My jeans slithered down my legs, the women pushing them down until they were pooled around my ankles. Their hands helpfully cupping my bottom, I stepped daintily out of my pants. I was as defenseless as Melissa now. A woman called to Jenny. She turned, regarded me, still holding the birch. A hush came over the crowd as I was urged forward by my two female suitors. One of them was the woman in the clam-digger pants. She had long since lost them. Would she squirt mustard up my ass now? Did her husband like to watch that also? Melissa seemed relieved that she was no longer the center of attention. She made to move away. Jenny grabbed her arm. "Stay here, you little imp. I am not through with you yet." Jenny asked the guests to fetch the girl's sarong and parasol. She told Melissa to pick up her flower, which had fallen out during the whipping. Scampering over to where I stood now, in her place, the girl picked up her poinsettia and restored it neatly over her right ear. At Jenny's request Melissa's sarong was tied once more around her waist. She was given her parasol back. Then Jenny handed her the slim birch, telling me to bend over and grab my ankles. "Whip her, you little hussy," Jenny hissed. Melissa seemed delighted at the prospect of having the whip hand. She gave my ass a calculating look and then laid in a biting cut right across both my cheeks. "OW!" I cried. "Be quiet!" Jenny ordered me. Then, to Melissa: "Give it to her hard. She is a big girl and can take it." Melissa nodded and gave me another stinger. The birch would not last long if this kept up, I knew. To my dismay, Jenny asked Tim for his belt. The birch broke after two more blows and Jenny handed Melissa the supple leather belt Tim had been wearing. It was made of fine-tooled Argentine leather. I eyed it with a baleful stare, gazing back at it between my regulation-width legs, my pose the same as Melissa's, save that my hands were on my ankles. "Give it to her good, you junior minx, or you will get two for every one that comes off too lightly," Jenny said. For the first time in my life I felt like I was being complicitous in my own whipping, for I was not tied down in any way. The woman formerly of the clam-digger pants knelt beside me. She twirled a finger in my hair and whispered words of encouragement in my ear. SLAP! The belt hit, hard. I lurched forward, nearly toppling over. SWOOP! SPLAT! Two more, each leaving a burning swath in its wake. Melissa, the little bitch, strutted behind me, eyeing my ass cooly, twirling her parasol. I gritted my teeth. This was not going to be easy. I wanted to flee. The crowd moved in, gathered around me. Tim stood over me. He undid his pants and took out his cock and began stroking it. Melissa gave me a good beating then, as merciless as any mistress I'd ever had. Occasionally she rubbed her own bottom as a pang of pain there reminded her of her own recent suffering. I bore her swats as best I could, trying valiantly not to cry out. My country, my adopted country, needed me. I would steal all England's secrets for this. At last Jenny ordered Melissa to stop. Reluctantly the girl let the belt fall from her hand. "Stand up!" Jenny told me. I unfolded myself, rising slowly. My hands clapped themselves to my bottom, tenderly I rubbed it. You'd have thought I'd left my ass out in the sun all day, it hurt so much. Wincing, I looked at Jenny. She was smiling, her lips glossy, her makeup perfect, her hair a lovely cascade of chestnut over her white shoulders. Her bosoms seemed to float upon her chest, big and creamy, with cherry nipples. She put her hands to her jeans, undoing the buttons. "I want to be next," Jenny said matter-of-factly to me. "But I want it very hard, so you'll have to tie me." Shocked, I watched as she stepped out of her jeans. She looked at Melissa. "Take off that silly sarong, girl! I want you stark naked when you whip me. Get rid of those necklaces you're wearing too, and that bracelet." Melissa quickly complied, fearing the harsh, lusty tone in Jenny's voice. "Yes, you may keep the flower, and your pretty heels," Jenny told her. "As for that parasol, I ought to jam it up your ass, but you can keep that too." Melissa looked appropriately shocked at the thought of having her umbrella stuck up her. She continued to clutch it as a kind of talisman to ward off evil as the crowd closed around Jenny. She was gagged. A black cloth was set between her pretty white teeth, leaving her lips bare. She would not be able to change her mind now. A mattress was laid out, and Jenny was made to kneel on it. Her knees were fixed wide apart by a spreader bar that was placed between them. Her hands were lifted above her and a kind of boom was swung out from the wall. It was locked into place, sticking out horizontally from the wall, like some giant cock. Jenny's arms were lifted and bound to the bar. Melissa and I huddled together, unsure of ourselves. I felt anger at her and yet we were in this together now, both victims, and myself about to join her in mistress-hood. I was given a belt of my own and we were told there would be many instruments for us to try before we were finished. "You may begin," a man said to us, his voice cold. Melissa and I each drew back our belts. There was a mirror in front of Jenny and we could see her face. She seemed complacent. We let go of the ends of our belts and they went flying into her ass. CRACK! CRACK! A double salute. Jenny thrust her hips forward, smiling. Her big breasts juddered madly. She was the center of attention now, and she loved it. All the men had their cocks out, watching her. The flogging lasted for several hours. Melissa and I were made to use canes, birches, paddles, a quirt, a martinet, and other things too numerous or wicked to remember. All of our fury was directed at her bottom, except when we messed up and hit her back or thighs instead. We sweated under the exertion. Her hiney became black-and-blue. At last we were ordered to stop. Panting, we threw down our weapons. My breasts hurt from jiggling around so much. Melissa rubbed her arm. She had long since given up holding aloft her parasol, having to switch hands now and then just to relieve her whip-hand. Before us Jenny hung by her wrists, her body limp, her head drooping down so that her chin rested on her chest, lifelessly. She'd long since given up smiling, or even crying. She shuddered once, gave up a sob without lifting her head, was silent. Around us the room was a ruckus of intertwined bodies. Our partying friends had gotten down to business some time ago, leaving us to Jenny, watching us only to make sure we kept at her. Melissa and I turned to the man who had told us to stop. He was busily fucking two females, oblivious to our own need. I looked at the girl who had been my partner in dominance. She was especially pretty, I thought, with her young teats sticking out, her nipples painfully erect, her legs parted. She gazed back at me. "I'm sorry about your bottom," Melissa said apologetically. She whisked her hands back and forth along the sides of her creamy flanks. She was terribly excited by the orgy all around her. I palmed my cheeks. The burning had been replaced by a warm glow which suffused them, made them feel almost wonderful. I thrust out my hips, my legs apart, displaying my pussy. "It's o.k. now," I said. "See?" I gave each of my ass cheeks a playful slap. It felt good, too good. I knew I'd want another spanking there soon. Melissa's eyes fell to my breasts. She gazed at my rigid nipples. "You have nice breasts," she said. "Yours are nice too." "Mine aren't big enough." "They'll grow," I reassured her. "I want to be a slave!" she said suddenly, and gripped her bottom cheeks with her palms, jutting her hips toward me. There was a desperate glint in her eyes of passion long repressed. "I read about love slaves, in a book, and I want to be one." I was surprised by such a kinky statement, coming from the mouth a mere babe, a child. Did this girl really know what she was asking? "You must be careful," I replied. "There are men who hurt girls they keep as slaves." "I don't care. I just want to be one," she said resolutely. A man approached us. He had overheard us. It could have been anyone, but he was particularly handsome, about 40, with a half-stiffened cock worn out from fucking, yet still beautiful, I thought. How many girls had he poked his organ into? And here was Melissa, yet to taste cock for the first time. The man put an arm around her bare waist, then mine. "And what about you?" He asked me. "Do you want to be a slave also?" My bottom quivered, tightened. It felt so hot and delicious! Together we stared up at him, our eyes dove's eyes, hoping not to be let free but to be captured. "Yes," I said. "I want to be...tested." And I did. Worked...like a mare. My teats sucked, milked. Like a cow. My pussy and backside plowed. "Then you must both come with me," the man replied. He told us his name was Robert, but we were only ever to call him "Sir," or "Master." He gathered us more closely to him, turning us, so that he could lead us where he might. In her excitement Melissa wedged a hand between her legs. "Uh, uh. No," Master told her. "You will come only when I say so. Your body is mine now. All mine." Melissa drew her hand away, looked at him dumbly, needfully, pressing her thighs together, squirming. Bare-hipped we walked with him, his arms holding us there, casually. He stroked our bellies with his fingers. He told us we would be fucked until they swelled. We didn't care. We would be proud to bear his children if he wanted us to, so crazy with desire were we. We stopped at a door. He insisted we remove everything; earrings, heels, even Melissa's poinsettia. We obeyed, handing him our things, which he laid on top of a nearby chest-of-drawers. Then he opened the door and let us inside. We stepped into utter darkness. He flicked on a light. There was nothing in the room save a broad, low wooden platform with a mattress on it and furs piled atop it. Hanging down from the ceiling, at the end of a stiff pole, was a single ring of steel. If a girl stood on the makeshift-bed and lifted her arms above her head she just might reach it. Piled in one corner of the room were chains, made from small, rectangular links. Beside them was an assortment of locks. Our master went and fetched two of each. He returned to us and made Melissa hold out her hands. He bound them together with a chain and locked them. "Both of you, get up on the bed, remain standing," Master ordered. We both clambered up, found it to be stiffer to stand on than a normal bed, though it still made us wobble as we tried to walk on it. Master told Melissa to reach up and grasp the ring. She obeyed, standing on tip-toe, just barely grasping it. He told me to stand close to her and put my hands on her waist. "Closer, closer," he urged, until my nipples poked against hers. Because she was on tip-toe our tits touched, even though she was shorter than me. Master found a piece of wood and wedged it underneath Melissa's heels to keep her standing on her toes. Then he took his other chain and wrapped it once around our bare waists, locking it behind Melissa's back. Our hot breath mingled. Spontaneously Melissa stuck out her tongue, then opened her mouth. I offered my own tongue to her and we duelled, our tongues licking at each other in the open air. They touched, sensuously. Our bare bottoms, almost unmarked now, the stripes faded from our previous punishment, loomed perversely large, mine especially. It was the giving way of the bed beneath our feet which made our bottoms seem bigger. We kissed. Master surveyed our nicely parted legs, our asses, tightening, relaxing, as we sucked on each other's tongues. I stroked Melissa's svelte torso, feeling her ribs rippling beneath my fingers, smelling the vaseline which still coated her body. When our mouths finally parted we gazed at each other and made our sprouting nipples duel, brushing them together and using them as little spears to try to puncture each other's breasts. "You two must be the loveliest creatures on earth," Master told us, getting up onto the bed with us. He palmed our bottoms and then gave each of us a good hard smack. We squealed, our nether cheeks tingling anew. We longed for whatever punishments he wished to give us, and he knew it. We kissed more sensuously than ever, our bodies pressing closer, writhing. We rubbed our prickly bushes together. Master, admiring us, took another chain and used it to secure Melissa's wrists to the overhanging ring, which she was having trouble holding on to. Then he fetched more goodies from the items piled by the chains and locks. Items I'd tried my best not to look at as we first entered. Dildos, condoms, oils, salves. Tubing that looked like it could be used to give an enema. From the pile Master took a double-pronged dildo, and a bottle of vaseline. We gasped when we saw his plan. "I am spent," he said. "But I will not have a virgin in my presence any longer." He eyes Melissa. She stared back meekly, looking at him, at the dildo. Was I to take her cherry? Me? A girl popping a girl? Master stepped back up onto the bed. He had us jut back our bottoms, forcing our pussies apart momentarily. He put the double-dildo between us, and told me to help fit it into Melissa's pussy, as well as my own. I got my end in alright, but Melissa was a tight fit. Delicately I parted her cunt lips, like opening a flower. I eased the bulbous nose within her as, looking down, she shivered apprehensively. I felt the head of the fake penis butt up against her hymen. I did not force it. Not yet. I pushed my end of the prick farther up inside me, bowing my knees to try to get the large organ up my tight passage as far as possible. When I was confident it could go no further I settled my hands back on Melissa's hips and looked in her eyes. "Ready?" I asked her, shifting my hips slightly to get a better purchase on the bed. "Yeth," she lisped, in a little girl's voice. I kissed the tip of her nose, her lips. I gritted my teeth. Inside myself I held the dildo as tightly as I could. Then I thrust forward. "Umph!" Melissa grunted in a small voice. The hymen had held. I shoved my hips at her again. "Ooh!" she mouthed. "Buck! Buck your hips!" I told her. She moved them slightly, back and forth. I grabbed handfuls of her bottom flesh and yanked her toward me, jutting forward my cunt. "OooaAck!" Melissa bleated suddenly, and I knew I'd broken through. I rammed my hips back and forth, male-like, forcing her to buck in and out also by yanking and pushing on her ass cheeks. Melissa gurgled incoherently, trying her best to follow my lead, working her hips against mine. Within myself I felt the dildo driving upward, even as I knew it must be doing inside her also. Master watched it all, amused, delighted. He picked up a pony whip and began flaying my bottom to spur me on. I loved the sweet kiss of the whip. I wanted to stick my ass out for him and let him whip me all over. He struck the backs of my thighs and the backs of Melissa's thighs also. He could not get at her bottom because of my hands. I ground my mouth to Melissa's even as my hips worked against hers. The dildo felt wonderful, filling me and opening me even as it opened Melissa for the very first time. Soon she achieved her first orgasm, panting, moaning, snuffling. I trilled out my own pleasure soon after, lifting my face and swooning at the ceiling. I fell against her at last, breathing hard, savoring the feel of her slick skin against mine. We were partners...in crime. It was unlawful to deflower her, yet I had done it. A crime of passion. Melissa snuggled against me. Struggling to find her voice, she gazed blissfully at master. "Thank you, master," she said. 30 ----------------------- 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> /