Message-ID: <1209eli$9706041413@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: Private Places part 1 of 7 (NND) --------------------------------------------------------------- PROBLEMS? Please try viewing this with Netscape Navigator. --------------------------------------------------------------- _/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/ Andrew Roller Presents NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS in PRIVATE PLACES _/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/ Chapter One I had begun the ritual three days ago. “Fleurette,” I would hear my mom saying, in my mind. “Do your homework and go to bed. Quit watching Letterman!” And it would make me angry. I was on vacation, wasn’t I? We had school year round in L.A., where I lived, but my dad had taken a beach house here in South America for the summer. I had come along. What else could I do? I was just 13, and where my parents went, I went. Or so it had always been, so far. Slipping into one of my littlest bikinis, I stole from the house. I walked down the short stone path to the beach. It was broad, vacant. The sun was just breaking the surface of the water in the east. Seagulls called, in the distance. I watched them wheel and dive as I crossed the big beach to where the tide was just going out. Wet sand squished at last under my feet, the water washing the shore just a few feet away. In, out, rhythmically. I stood on the glistening wet sand all by myself. I tossed my head. I felt my long blonde hair swish across my upper back. Then, reaching behind myself, I untied my bra. It sprung open and my eager breasts popped out, quivering, my nipples deliciously stiff. I wanted to rub myself, knew I mustn’t. With trembling hands I pushed down my bikini panties. I felt the cool sea breeze against my blonde thatch. My bra dangled from my neck, like a bib, my boobies wiggling with the bra cups, useless now, flapping against them. I undid my bra at my neck and let go of it with tweezer-like fingers, delicately, watching as the light wind caught it and carried it away. It hit the beach where the sand was soft and almost dry. I reached down to the panties that hung from my thighs. Again I felt the need to tickle my cunny, but I passed my hands on down to my half-lowered panties. With careful fingers I undid the drawstrings. I lofted the my panties into the air and watched them sail neatly to within a few feet of my bra. Then, worshipfully, I lay down on the wet sand. I pressed my breasts into it. They were big for my age, they indented the sand deeply, two magnificent scoops of white ice cream tumbling down into the wet sand and making depressions there. I scooted forward a little to press them even deeper. I snuggled into the sand, feeling its wetness. I humped it briefly with my muff, wishing I had a penis to spear it with, but having only my little lovelips. My clitty could not compete with the big balls and penis of a male who I wished might lie down beside me. I did not know who I wanted. A boy from my school in L.A. perhaps, or my science teacher, or some stranger maybe, like the man I’d seen at the airport, guarding us as we deplaned. I opened my thighs. Murmuring to myself I lay upon the sand, waiting, hoping someone might find me. Poseidon perhaps, or some other mighty Trident-bearing god. He would see a sweet maiden lying in the and and come to her rescue. She would not do any more homework. She would watch Letterman all night if she wished. Lying on the beach, I kissed the sand with my lips. Ick. I got sand on my mouth. I brushed it from my lips and lay quietly again, waiting, letting the sun caress my bare white hiney. I would get an all over tan, perhaps, if I came down here enough mornings. Then, one day, I’d boldly arrange for mom to see my bottom, and she would gasp at how tanned it was, just like the rest of me. What? Had I been to a nudist colony? When? How? I giggled. Then, with my eyelashes fluttering closed, I tried to sleep and wait for some rescuer to find me. There could be no fault on my part if I fell asleep, could there? I mean, certainly, I’d chosen to come down here, but I was just a silly little girl. If I fell asleep, though, that would be entirely out of my hands. Ummmmmm, I thought to myself. Sleep, sleep, dream of sheep. “Hi!” Rats. Somebody was interrupting my sleep. Yikes! That meant somebody was HERE! I’d not fallen asleep, actually, just dozed and let my mind wander. Now I opened my eyes and looked up with embarrassment. “I’m Barbi,” a sweet, female voice said. I let my eyes meet hers. She was a few years older than me, sixteen perhaps. A fellow traveller? My blush faded a bit. It wasn’t too bad, just a girl like me. Blonde, blue-eyed. With the brightest, sweetest smile you’d ever want to see. I felt a sudden surge to BE her, not just look at her. And she wore a little bikini, like I’d had on, until I’d taken it off. Her breasts were big, too big, like mine. They trembled within bra cups that were soft and flimsy, and small. I let my eyes travel down over her smooth, slightly outcurved belly, with its dimpled navel, and down, down to her (at last) bikini bottom. It was daringly teensy. I thought I spotted a wisp or two of her pubic hair curling out the top of it, there was so little fabric to the thing. Along one of the frail ties of her undies I saw a pair of steel handcuffs. I gasped. They were casually slung over the drawstring, pulling down on it a little, due to their weight, and the flimsiness of her panties. Barbi tossed her hair back from her eyes and knelt down beside me. “Did you wash up on the beach?” she asked me brightly. “No, I didn’t wash up on the beach,” I answered. My voice was muffled by the pressing of my cheek into the sand. “I know,” she grinned. “For three days my master has watched you come down here and strip, and lie in the sand. He wanted you, but he didn’t want me to be jealous. Finally, this morning, waking up and finding him watching you, I told him it would be okay. I’d fetch you, if you liked, and you could come over and play with us.” I looked up at her. The word ‘master’ ricocheted inside my head. She’d said it so casually, so normally, and I suspected she didn’t even know she’d said it. There was just a man in her life who was her master, whom she served, and that was that. I shivered upon the sand. I felt like a jellyfish or a starfish about to be picked up by a passing tourist. Barbi put a hand on my bottom. “Master loves your ass,” she said. She pressed a fingertip into my dimples, each of them, as if she were testing it. Then, more daringly, she put two fingers on either side of my hiney cheeks and prised them open, letting the sea breeze enter me more deeply, more fully. I know you’d think, WHAT?! You lay on the beach and let some girl, older than you, prise open your asscheeks and bare your hole? Well, it was strange, but I felt captive. I felt, ‘This isn’t me, I’m not responsible. I’m just a little seashell, all pink inside, and I’m incapable of resisting.’ And then a thought shot through me that frightened me. My mother, leaning over the balcony of our rented beach house, calling out to me. “Flurry!” (that’s what everyone called me.) “What are you doing?! Come up here this minute!” And I’d be scolded severely for lying naked on the beach, where anyone could see me. Or steal me. I’d be berated for days for besmirching the family name (which, being ‘Grines,’ wasn’t particularly my favorite sort of family name, but was one that she’d chosen to take and, consequently, had vowed to defend to her dying breath.) And who was the little squirt who was the only person in her life who could besmirch the glorious surname of ‘Grines?’ Why little me, of course, 13-year-old Flurry, with my naked little ass, lying on the beach. It was the thought of my mother discovering me that made me speak up. “Okay,” I said, whispering, but I didn’t move. Barbi seemed to understand. “You’ll have fun,” she said simply. Then, “This will only take a moment,” she added. She pulled the handcuffs from her bikini, nearly tearing the drawstrings off, they were so fragile, and she lifted my arms and positioned them wrist-on-wrist in the small of my back. Then she placed the handcuffs on me and snapped them shut. “By the way, I don’t have the key,” she said. I felt a tremor of fear then. I would at least have to go wherever she’d come from now, even if I chose to go home, in order to get the handcuffs off! I could just see myself walking up to my mother, naked as a jaybird, with my hands cuffed behind me, unopenable, saying, “Hi mom, guess what? The family name is now naked and handcuffed (and a little wet too, I might add, right where it counted).” So when Barbi put a hand to my bare shoulder and told me to get up I did it unhesitatingly. I needed these cuffs off, sooner or later, if I was going to get back upstairs before mom discovered me missing. “Do you want your bikini?” Barbi asked, still smiling, still carefree, as we stood and made to walk up the beach. “No,” I replied. Twice before I’d left it there. Yesterday my mother had found my bra, not knowing it was mine. “A younger girl must’ve worn this,” she said, for big as my breasts were they weren’t women’s breasts, they were still the breasts of a girl. And she’d wondered if she should call the police and report the ‘incident,’ as she called it. “A girl might be missing,” she’d speculated. She’d kept my bra as evidence, not knowing it was mine. The day before I’d watched from my window as a man, jogging along the beach, had found my panties. He’d picked them up, examined them, and then actually sniffed them! Then he’d glanced around, guiltily, and stuffed them into the pocket of his shorts. The funny thing was, he’d been so businesslike, so self-absorbed, until he’d come across my panties lying ‘forgotten’ on the beach. So now my third swimsuit lay discarded, in the soft sand. And this time I’d be missing too, not just my swimsuit. I smiled to myself as I imagined my mother going crazy. I’d peek out from Barbi’s house later, perhaps, and watch the beach aswarm with policemen. Maybe my picture would even be on T.V. I was pretty. Boys, seeing the broadcast, would long to find me so they could have me for themselves. Gently Barbi guided me up the beach. She kept her fingers pressed lightly into the small of my back. I stepped with easy, cautious steps. The sand was just starting to get hot from the sun. She wore sandals, but I was barefoot. We did not go back the way I’d come, but down the beach, just a little, and up a private stone path into a tropical garden. She led me on, as I passed flowering plants and tall, graceful palms, into a large white cement house. Within it was cool. I gazed about me, still handcuffed, and saw expensive furniture, and precious things from the beach, glass balls, a collection of rare shells, seahorses preserved in glass and mounted on the wall for display. Barbi took me to the bathroom and brushed the sand off my tummy and breasts. Like marshmallows, my bosoms quivered under her hands, my tips hard as coral. She brushed off my flanks and then wet a washcloth at the sink and passed it between my legs, over my thighs, my tummy, the tips of my titties. “Let’s go upstairs,” she said finally. Elegant in her bikini, stepping gracefully in her sexy heeled sandals, she led me up a long staircase to the second floor. We went into a bedroom. Still handcuffed, she escorted me to bed, where a man waited for me, tall, with dark hair and a muscular chest. He sat upright, a sheet drawn up to his waist. A huge spear rose from within the sheet where I knew his legs met. I gazed at it, awed, open-mouthed. Barbi settled beside me. She untied her top, reaching behind herself to get it undone, just like I had on the beach. Then she slipped her panties down her thighs, finally undoing the drawstrings to get them off without having to lift her ass up off her heels. Her feet were bare now. She’d kicked off her beach pumps at the bedside. Barbi leaned forward and took my face in her hands, kissed me lightly on the mouth. “You’re so young, so sweet,” she complimented me. Suddenly she had a can of whipped cream, passed to her by master, and she held it poised over my breasts. “May I?” she asked. I looked at the can, nodded, unknowingly. I squealed as she suddenly squirted a dollop of cream onto each of my nipples. “Master likes his breakfast properly prepared,” she said. She turned me and urged me forward to her master, who sat waiting for my body. My bosoms were offered to him and he sucked each in turn, me wiggling all the while, wanting to break free, yet mesmerized, and squeaking like a mouse as I felt his powerful lips work my bosom-tips. Was he a baby, this big man? Did he need me to nurture him? I didn’t care. I was grateful for the attention. Not to my grades, but to my ass, and my tits. I felt a thrill of satisfaction as I thought of mom, wondering where I was, finding my bikini, as this man sucked on me, for the first time in my life, and his girlfriend slyly ran her finger down, down my spine and at last into the curve of my asscrack. I was helpless. I could do nothing in these handcuffs that held my arms so firmly behind me. I was utterly His, this man’s, whoever he was. Barbi urged herself closer to me and slipped a questing hand over my tummy, then down between my legs. I shouted (I could not help it) as she found my love bud and tickled it. I did not resist, merely squirmed happily. She rubbed me lovingly, enjoying my squirmings. I think she put a hand to herself too for soon we were both panting with urgent desire. I could feel her breath on my cheek. Her chin rested on my shoulder, her bosoms perked and pressed against my small back. Before us master’s pecker loomed large, tempting. I wished I could reach out and touch it. Suddenly he unfurled the sheet. I gasped as his strong, long cock appeared before my amazed, virginal eyes. We adjusted ourselves a little and I soon found myself bent right over, Barbi still controlling all my movements, with my mouth placed upon his penis. “She is virgin, please come in her mouth,” Barbi told him. She’d felt my hymen, exploring me. I sucked upon his penis, so strange, so new to my girl lips. Barbi kept massaging my twat, and her own, bringing us together to the point of no return. Bliss consumed me. I peaked into an unknown orgasm, Barbi humping me from behind, bringing herself off simultaneously, as her boyfriend jetted into my mouth. When we were done I sat up again, unbent, in the bed, Barbi behind me, and her boyfriend, still sitting before us, reached across to a nightstand and retrieved a key from a drawer. It was small, gold-colored. He passed it to Barbi and she unlocked my cuffs. Then, after letting me flex my arms a moment and feel my newly-freed wrists, Barbi urged me from the bed. Before departing, I leaned forward and gave ‘master’s’ prick a final little kiss with my lips. Barbi took me to the bathroom and we quickly rinsed off in the shower together, gazing at each other, our eyes lively and bright. Then she took me downstairs, and tied me into a bikini of her own. It was bigger than mine on the beach. She walked me home. When we entered we found my mother sitting at the kitchen table. “Oh! It’s you!” she said, looking up from her coffee. “What? Were you out walking on the beach this early?” she asked. Then, her words rapid-fire, “Who’s your friend?” and, finally: “Well, I’m glad to see you finally have a DECENT bikini on. Those stringy little things you bought at the gift shop in Rio were absolutely atrocious!” I glanced at Barbi. We shared a smile. “May I go upstairs?” I asked my mom. She asked again who my friend was, but I said nothing, passed by, Barbi gave her a friendly little wave and accompanied me upstairs. “May I have my bikini back?” Barbi asked when we were in her room, a conspiratorial smile on her lips. We plopped down onto my bed. “May I have my virginity back?” I asked. “You were never with a man before, were you?” she asked. She had not taken my virginity, of course. I was just teasing her. “No, I wasn’t,” I replied. Then, mimicking a cartoon T.V. voice I added, “Thanks, I needed that.” Barbi laughed. “I figured you did, lying naked on the beach like that! It was pretty obvious.” “Could we...” I fumbled for words. “I mean, he’s your boyfriend but...” Barbi put a finger to my lips. “Whenever you wish,” she answered. “We’re practically best friends now, don’t you think?” “But I,” I answered hedgingly. How could I say I was too shy to just present myself at their door, half-naked (or more!) asking to be fucked. “I’ll call on you,” Barbi said. “Without my boyfriend, of course. I don’t think your mother would understand.” “No,” I agreed, nodding. “We’re having a party tonight,” she said. “Indoors, in bikinis, of course. I’ll pick you up and you can wear your naughtiest one and impress ALL the men, not just my master.” “Ooohh,” I breathed. There was frustration on my face. “I don’t know, my mother, she’s hard to get around.” “Well, we’ll just be friends for now then,” Barbi said. “I’ll come back this afternoon maybe, here, let’s exchange numbers.” So we wrote down our phone numbers on my Hello Kitty pad, and, after a bit more talking, she left, her ass swaying most noticeably and disagreeably before my mother’s eyes as she walked out the door. “Hmmm, that girl is certainly well-developed for such a young teen,” my mother harumphed over her Mocha Coffee. “She’s sixteen, mom,” I answered. I wore cutoffs and a t-shirt, hastily pulled on. “Why was she carrying that nice bikini of yours?” my mother asked. “She wanted to try it,” I lied. “Well, she could definitely use a bigger one herself, you BOTH could. I’ll have your father take us into town this morning. Are you sure you don’t want to go back to wearing a one-piece? I hear they’re all the rage this year.” “No mom, I don’t,” I answered. ‘Imagine taking a one-piece off on the beach!’ I thought. Not the sexiest thing to wear, or to get in and out of, on the beach in the morning or in Barbi’s boyfriend’s bed. When Barbi came by that afternoon, I was gone. Guess where I was? In a swimsuit shop in Montevideo, looking for an ‘appropriate’ one-piece with my mom and dad. Even my dad was getting bored with all this, checking his watch now and then, the one with the clever red snake that wound its way around the gold watchband. I liked my dad’s watch, my dad too, although, of course, he was my father. The watch looked ordinary enough, but if you looked closely at its gold (plated) band, there was a very slim red snake that cut its way through the band, all the way around, with its rattlesnake tail poised upward at the very tip, as if just lifting to strike. I leaned close to my dad and pulled back his suit and his long shirtsleeve and studied the snake on his watch. I think I was feeling ‘men-oriented’ this morning. He felt me pressing against him but ignored me. I was just a little girl to him, although he had remarked to my mother once that I ‘seemed to be getting awfully heavy in the chest.’ She’d mentioned something about ‘breast-reduction operations,’ and how she wished she’d fed me pills as a child to prevent and suppress thelarche. I can still remember my mom reading from a big white book in the living room. “If your daughter undergoes puberty prematurely, it is important not to respond to her according to her physical appearance. Keep treating her like the little girl she is,” she would declare, loudly and with a sense of definiteness that was almost obsessive. She’d add something about the need to “keep giving me hugs,” but I sensed that was just thrown in to alleviate the Hitler-like stance the book took on controlling me. Never mind that my mom had spent her youth smoking dope, rebelling, and being courted by men twice her age, even when she was 13 and 14. She’d ‘seen the world,’ as she coyly put it, and decided, when she was older and no longer attractive, that I needed to be ‘held back’ to keep herself ‘front and center,’ as it were. She didn’t mention the ‘front and center’ part, but I added it in, these days, knowing a little more. Plus I’d been reading Seventeen lately, and letters printed from other girls, and they clued me in as to what my mother was really up to. I kept the magazines hidden from mom. She thought I should still be reading Jack and Jill. “Don’t you like the nice puzzles, dear?” she ask. “Why, this one has Beauty and the Beast in it. You like Beauty and Beast, don’t you?” “Dear, this is taking an awful lot of time,” my father said irritably to my mom, with me pressing against him, surreptitiously feeling his arm, his torso, with a new sense of awareness. I liked the bigness of him beside me. I studied his watch less closely now, just enjoying the feel of him beside me. “Don’t you’ll rumple my suit,” he said abruptly, pushing me away. Mom stood before a rack of one-piece swimsuits, trying to find one “without all those flashy patterns on it,” as she declared. “Look at this one! It actually says ‘Bitchin’ in small letters over the breast!” she exclaimed. “No one will see it. Buy the damn thing if you like it,” dad replied. “I DON’T like it!” she answered. “Boys do look at your daughter’s chest, dear, don’t you realize that? What do you think will cross their minds if they see this word over it?” “Well, find one that doesn’t have that word!” he snapped. “I’m still not satisfied,” she replied. “Look at this one here! ‘hot tramp’ it says, and this one, right on the butt it says “I’m yours,” with an arrow shot through a heart!” “Mom, I’ve quit wearing one-pieces,” I answered. I felt sullen. This was stupid. ‘My summer vacation, spent in stores looking for swimsuits I no longer wore.’” “The baby swimsuits are down in the next isle!” my dad declared. He stormed out of the store and, at last, my mother followed him, with me in tow, just as two great-looking dudes came into the store looking for surfboards. I was forced to leave them behind. They looked at my behind as I left, making me feel awkward, yet wishing, too, that my mom would have stayed just a little longer, so I could see if they’d have the guts to come up and talk to me. The next morning I woke early, wondering if Barbi and her boyfriend had enjoyed their party. It was still dark. I glanced out my bedroom window opposite the sea and saw the moon setting, turning bright orange as it set behind the inland mountains. I slipped into my bikini. I still had several of them left. I’d bought more in Rio than mom had realized. I found the one that said ‘Pretty Baby’ on it. I liked that. It made me feel small and special, but sexy too. Just like I wanted to. I slipped downstairs, my feet noiseless as liquid flowing downhill. I crept out the beach-side door and headed barefoot down for my special communion with the sand. I walked along the beach in the darkness. Now and then I glanced over my shoulder, looking, wondering if the Boogey-Man might be following me. The sand felt silk-soft under my feet. When I came parallel to Barbi’s house I sat down on the sand, and hunched over, drawing my knees up, feeling the length of my bare arms and legs, and the pillowy softness of my breasts as my knees indented them. After a minute I reached back behind myself and untied my bra. I dropped it noiselessly on the sand beside me. I leaned back and counted stars awhile, waiting for sun to come up, feeling my tits rise and fall with my breath. Later, I undid the ties of my drawers, but I remained sitting still, with my bikini still on until I should get up. I hoped the Boogey-Man didn’t appear suddenly, for I might wish to retain my panties, and having to rise suddenly, I wouldn’t have the time. He’d see my nakedness, not just my breasts but my pussy. A figure dropped beside me in the sand. I started, was about to jump up, then suddenly realized it was Barbi’s boyfriend. He was bare except for a little pair of Speedos. “Do you swim in the morning?” he asked. He glanced at me. He was much bigger than me. His eyes flashed. “Not usually,” I answered. “I don’t want to get wet.” “What happened to your bra?” he asked. “I took it off.” “Because?” “I don’t know. I just felt like it.” “You’re right underneath my bedroom window this morning.” “Yeah, I’m so modest,” I replied. “You are,” he answered. He put a hand on my shoulder, then ran it down my back. He brushed my swim panties, making them fall off my bottom like a leaf whose time was due to fall from the tree. “I wouldn’t like you if you weren’t modest. There’s nothing wrong with taking a morning swim in the nude.” “Provided you’re 45,” I answered. That would be my mom’s opinion, anyway. She was 45. Suddenly I sprang up and grabbed some sand. It was still moist from the outdrawing sea. I lifted a clingy chunk of it and plopped it right into the front of Barbi’s boyfriend’s Speedos. “There you go, sir,” I teased. “Now see how modest I am!” I felt the lissome nakedness of my body as I knelt between his legs, my panties gone now, abandoned on the beach with my bra. His cock stood up suddenly within his trunks, straining them, and the sand made him look even more stunningly endowed than he actually was, his big balls hanging down, protruding into the front of the suit, his penis, snake-like, pushing against the fabric, threatening to tear it. “There! How comfortable does that feel?” I asked. “Your dick all covered with sand!” I laughed. His laugh joined mine. He rose up, taking me with him, and suddenly I found myself holding hands with him, walking toward the waves, with the first rays of dawn just rising over the horizon. “I’m obviously going to have to rinse out my suit,” he said. “And, since you put the sand in, you can scoop it back out, and make sure it’s all off my cock too, since, as you said, it’s not the most comfortable way for a man to enjoy his morning swim.” “What if I don’t want to?” I tested him, though I let him hold my hand, and squeezed his a little too, as if to make sure he didn’t let go. “Oh, you’ll want to,” he said, gazing down at me suddenly, his eyes hot. I felt my wiggly seat behind me, all naked and defenseless, and a thrill ran up my spine that he might bend me over in the waves and punish me with his big hands, slapping my bottom, making me cry out, perhaps so mom could hear me! But we kept walking, quietly, as the water rose up to my pussy, then to my tummy, to his loins, and finally we settled into the gentle morning waves and he drew my small hands to his Speedos and made me investigate within. I pulled out the sand, enjoying myself. I teased him that there was a snake in his trunks and pulled out his long penis. “Don’t mention snakes,” he said to me, absently, as if he’d warned other girls of the same thing, and was used to doing it. “Why not?” I asked. “The snake brought Eve the apple.” “It’s a personal thing,” he said. “Mmmm,” I felt the length of his penis and had a sudden urge to feel it snaking up within me, right up to my belly, but I was scared, so scared to ask. Instead I just let my hands run over it, up and down its important length, I touched the knob as if it were a jewel atop a sceptre, with the pee hole the most fabulous part of all. “What will you do if I go home this morning and tell mommie that you abused me?” He laughed. It was high pitched and eery at first, then it slowly deepened, frightening me, until it was low and very somber. He took me by my small shoulders and kissed me with a sudden passion. “You needn’t worry about that,” he answered at last. “The police work for me here. I pay them better than the government does. Protecting me is their main job. Their police work is just, shall we say, ‘moonlighting.’” I looked at him for a long time as the sun rose in the distance, lighting the sky. “Do you fear nothing?” I asked at last. He gazed at me with clear eyes, seemingly feeling free with me like he couldn’t with any woman. I was just a girl, after all. Even he was biased. I meant nothing, except for my body, and my cute expressions. He could speak freely with me. “Yes,” he said. “There is a rival gang. Once I thought I’d wiped it out completely, and not too long ago, at that. I had to rescue Barbi from its clutches. It’s run by a woman with an odd name, Miss Tuppence. You’ve never heard of her, of course. But she had an ally, one I wasn’t aware of at the time, and now they’ve very much come to her rescue. They’ve come after me, and I must be careful. They’re old enemies, from long ago. I worked for them once, but, in they’re mind, I betrayed them. It’s nothing like that, really. They screwed me and I left. But, ever since, they’ve been after me. And now they truly do want me dead, after years of letting the matter rest. Ms. Tuppence has enlisted them to wipe me out, and they’re very good at that sort of thing, if they really put their mind to it. Their people wear gold watches with a snake etched into the watch band. If you ever see anyone walking around with a watch like that, let me know. Probably, even if you were standing next to such a person, you wouldn’t notice the snake if you looked at their watch band. But sometimes, if the light catches it just right, or you look really closely, you’ll see the snake. So I mention that to you. Beware of that, since we’re seeing each other now. Let me know if such a person ever comes into your life.” My tummy felt odd and cold. I shivered in the water, my eyes big as fishes’ eyes. He kissed me again, not noticing my fright, or mistaking it for the apprehension of a virgin. At last he rose, his cock huge in the morning sun. He yanked up his shorts. “Come,” he said, taking my hand. “I must leave before the sun grows too bright.” I noticed that his skin was fairly white, with perhaps just the lightest tan, and that perhaps from some special tanning booth, not the sun. He drew me from the waves. I gripped his hand tightly, afraid to let go, afraid not to. Now I knew why my father had rented this beach house for the summer in Montevideo. He was an expert marksman, though he rarely displayed his skill, and persistently avoided talking or boasting about it. Was he here to kill my newfound lover? My father, versus Barbi’s boyfriend? I felt wet and cold and shivery. I could not betray my father to this man who walked beside me. I could feel his hand upon mine, gripping me with a steel-like strength that spoke volumes about his powers, his abilities, his fearlessness and his heartlessness. Barbi had mentioned, briefly, something about him being connected to drugs. I glanced up. He walked tall, boldly, his eyes gazing ahead, lost in thought on something I knew nothing about. Yes. That would be him. Above most men and definitely above the law. He would kill my own father without a second thought, and fuck me afterwards for good measure. Yet, I loved him, his strength, and our intimacy. And my father, I knew, was here to kill him. What could I do? I reached the place where my swimsuit lay and he insisted on picking it up, tying it back onto me, though I resisted. “Would you like to come up to the house?” he asked. His cock was hard, heavy in his trunks. “No...yes,” I said at last. Impulsively he turned me around. He straightened the seat of my panties even as he said, “If we go up to the house I’m going to bend you right over and fuck you up your small, sweet ass.” I felt my derriere quiver, my back, my thighs. I knew what must be done. I must give myself to this man, run away with him, and hope my father never caught me, never found me. I would urge him to leave this place, Montevideo, where he thought he was so safe because he’d paid off the police. I couldn’t tell him everything, of course, but I’d whine and complain about the weather (or something) until we went away together, far from my stalking father, who intended to track him down and kill him. “Okay,” I said at last. My voice was quiet, mouse-like, in the still morning air on this windless beach, where the wind had not risen up with the sun this day, but had lain quiet, as if tensed, waiting for an approaching storm. Master cast his eyes toward the sea. Ah, I loved the sudden intrusion of that word into my vocabulary. ‘Master,’ just what Barbi delighted in calling him. “There could be rain this morning,” he said, studying the clouds. “Will your mother miss you for an hour or so if you spend the time in my bedroom?” “No,” I answered, trance-like. I thought I felt a drop of water hit my shoulder. Another, seconds later, touched down upon my breast. Rain. It would drizzle down this morning, keeping people under their bedcovers. “She’ll stay in bed and my father will fuck her,” I said easily. “Then we must not be outdone,” he replied. He took me round the waist and we walked together up the beach to his house. We showered off under a little shower outdoors, delighting in the too-cool spray, discarding our swimsuits so the water could clean us completely of the ocean’s salt and sand. Then we stalked upstairs, not wanting to be heard. He said there were other females in the house, though Barbi, as always, slept with him now, in his bed. I affrighted a little at the thought of other girls being present, but it made sense, I decided finally. He was too beautiful, too powerful, to limit himself to just one. Or two, for that matter, Barbi or me. I felt selfish and wanted him all to myself, but knew it couldn’t be so. “I’m going to just test you a little in behind,” he said, calmly, cooly, as we reached his bedroom. Our entrance awoke Barbi and, seeing me, her eyes danced. “I don’t want to take your virginity, not yet, anyway. I’ll let you keep that awhile, til you’re sure, you know. Sure that you want to give it to me.” I admired his discretion. “Let’s see how your ass is, though. I won’t force it. We have perhaps an hour, hmmm? We’ll take the time easily, slowly, and see how far up I can get inside you. The last thing I need is a girl with a bleeding anus. If I can’t get too far in, it’s okay, but I’ll try for an hour, just pushing, slowly, back and forth, seeing...you know?” he spoke like a doctor, all the while caressing me, moving me slowly onto the bed, and at last bending me over on it, my knees upon the sheets and my face pressed down into a pillow. He arched up behind me and let Barbi, who was fully awake now, get vaseline and lube up both our parts, his penis and my hole. Him to spear, me to receive. I felt an enormous pressure then, playful at first, then more urgent, against my nether hole. I had no intention of ever going home, but I didn’t want to be hurt. I let him think he must take me slowly, so as to be able to send me home afterward without my mom or dad noticing anything. Agonizingly, broaching my fear even as me made me more afraid, Master pushed his huge boytoy penis against my dimpled anus. I received, feeling his peehole finally get inside, then more of his knobbed plum, and more still, riding up to the very crest of his knob at last, the flange, the part after which he would abruptly narrow. “If you can take the knob the rest will be easy,” Barbi urged me. She petted my hair, as if perhaps a female dog. I was a little bitch, wasn’t I? A bitch in heat. Barbi seemed to have a predator’s urge to see me taken, to see me lose my anal cherry and become like her, a woman. I must someday, mustn’t I? Why not now? I pushed my heinie back at him suddenly. Startled, I felt him give way. Him! Giving way to little me! Despite my anxiousness I tried to relax my bottom. “Hurt me, master, if you must,” I pleaded. “”Take me now! I’m yours! Fuck me right up the butt!” my voice was high-pitched, excited. I wanted him to do me before I could back out. “Fuck me now, master! I’m not going home! I’ll never leave you! Fuck me and make me yours forever!” “Bleed her,” Barbi urged, incited by the prospect of my denouement. I froze at her words, but I kept my bottom cheeks open. Even though I began to shake from my heinie on down, my legs quivering, my hips shaking, I did not try to close myself to him. “Yes,” I begged. “Fuck me! Even if I bleed. I’m yours, master. I belong to you.” And then I squeezed my eyes shut tight. I bit into the corner of my pillow. I tensed, waited, knowing I was narrowing my passage but hoping he could break through somehow anyway. “What?” I heard him asked. His voice sounded high, startled. “What are you doing? You’re taking control of my cock?” “Yessss,” I said, urgently. I strove to push my asscrack deep against his stiff prong. Behind me I heard Barbi coax him. She placed a hand on his buttocks and caressed them and pushed him into me, her own finger exploring his hole even as he drove into mine. (All this I learned from simply listening, hearing them talk, exchange opinions. He told her to get her finger out of his hole and she said no, I must be taken, I must be his. Because I wanted it. Not because he wanted it, but because I wanted it. This blew his mind.) “No! I am not going to be played with like this,” he gritted. “I am the man, I do not take orders from women!” He swore about Ms. Tuppence, I think it was she who was making him crazy. He said she was ruining his drug trade and now his own whore and a 13-year-old were claiming his genitals for themselves, even if it hurt them, even if it made them bleed. I felt him spurt, uselessly, against my bottomhole. Barbi, sensing she could reduce his lust for me (after all, we females are competitive), clapped her free hand to his balls and squeezed him vigorously to make him lose all his seed, even as she inquired teasingly inside his butthole. “No! No! No! No!” he yelped. But it was no use. With virgin assflesh in front of him, and Barbi at his side, he shot all he had to give. When I rolled over a few minutes later, wet in behind but otherwise unviolated, seating myself in the soft sheets, he was limp. All of his manly pride and vigor was gone and he had nothing, absolutely nothing, left to give. For a minute I thought I was looking at Howard Stern, his penis was so small. He rose from where he sat on the bed and glared at me, at Barbi, with a viciousness that made us both extremely frightened. He was under terrible stress, I guessed, his business collapsing, a lifetime of effort gone because he got into a battle with Ms. Tuppence over Barbi. He swore at us and her too, told her how she had ruined his empire. “Because I loved you more than my business,” he said to her. “Always I told myself, the girls are just an amusement. They come with the territory. And then you and those other tarts, those other sweet tarts, too sweet, were stolen from me by Ms. Tuppence. I should not have cared. I should have let you go. But I didn’t, did I? For the first time in my life I decided to fight for something not directly related to my business. And you saw what happened. I lost every man I had, every man except myself. And now she, that devil bitch ‘Ms. Tuppence,’ as she likes to call herself, has new allies, and she is going to RUIIN me!” he cried, lifting his fists to the ceiling. And you know what? In my fear, almost peeing in the bed (in HIS bed!) I was so afraid...in my fear I loved him even more. He was tall, lanky, strong, and he was so visibly wounded, the wounds from his battle with Ms. Tuppence, to regain Barbi, his love, the girl who was his love but whom he could not call, ‘my love,’ because he was too proud. And now me, I was his love too, probably even more than Barbi (at least I hoped!) And not only was he facing Ms. Tuppence, poor man. He was facing my father! And he didn’t even know. He whirled upon me with a sudden menace, coiling, like a snake, his hands upraised, his teeth bared to me, ready to strike. “You at least can go!” he snarled at me. “Get out! Get out of my bed right now and go! I have too many females already.” God, how I feared him, and loved him too! I wanted to cry. And I almost did, but I controlled myself at the last moment, knowing if I burst into tears he would dismiss me as a mere child. Instead I leapt at him, I grabbed him before he could grab me. I pressed my flesh into his, I wriggled with all the jiggly curves I had to offer pressed alluringly against him. “I’m sorry, master!” I said. And I kissed his hairy chest. I licked his nipple. And I pushed my cunny against his shriveled cock and rubbed my private parts to his like a bitch wanting a pregnancy. He dropped his hands to my ass and squeezed my hind cheeks so hard I yelped. I could feel him boiling inside. He breathed hard, his breath rasping. “If you stay,” he said, his breath rasping. “If you stay you will be made to serve me. Do you understand? I am not your father. I am not your boyfriend. You will serve me, MY needs, not yours.” Forcefully he yanked apart my asscheeks and I almost shouted, I felt so abruptly, violently opened, spread apart. I could feel the cool air whistling dixie in my wrenched open butthole. I thought at any moment Barbi might stab her finger into it and claim my cherry for herself. ‘First In,’ as the Airborne guys say. “I’m yours,” I said, quietly, so that only he could hear it. Barbi, sitting on the bed, watched us like a cat, wishing she could play my role, I’ll bet. “Alright,” he answered. He pushed me from him. “You’ve agreed. And you know I am above the law. Here, I am the law. You have now agreed to my terms.” He looked at me almost hopefully, perhaps wishing I’d bolt from his bedroom, and run home before we were truly settled on the matter. But, feeling frisky, not wanting anything more to do with my mother, I bent down and kissed his feet. He watched in awe as my naked ass rose up behind me, my cheeks still quivering from how he’d handled me there. I kissed each of his toes in turn. It was my choice, and he knew it, and he swore over me, knowing I was taking control again, even as I submitted myself to him. “You do not know what you have gotten into, but you have agreed,” he said aloud, as if pronouncing sentence on me. “Stand up and receive me.” I looked up. He was hard again! Just like that, I’d made him stiff. He had me lift up my head, still on my knees, and receive his penis in my mouth. Barbi, quick with a kleenex, insisted on daubing him with a touch of champagne before he shoved himself into my mouth. How lucky I was that they’d shared breakfast in bed before he’d come down to the beach! I swear, if the champagne had not been handy, the bottle sitting nearly empty on the bedside nightstand, he would have shoved his shit-daubed cock directly into my mouth. As it was, I took a freshly washed champagne cock in my mouth. He still felt reserved about me, and just let me suck the tip of his spear, not gagging me on it, until at last I received his seed in my mouth and gulped it down. Then, my lips appreciatively wet, smacking them to make Barbi jealous, I stood. He bade me to stand and had Barbi get a small length of leather string from the nightstand. “This is your collar,” Barbi told me. “You do not deserve a real collar yet. You must be trained first. For now, you will wear this,” she told me, glancing at Master to ensure she had his approval for every word she said. I nodded, feeling scared again, but relishing my nudity. He stared at me, a mere 13-year-old, as if I were a full-grown girl in Penthouse! My nipples wiggled and I gazed at him with fey innocence as Barbi tied the “junior collar” around my neck. It was a mere string, nothing more, made of rawhide. Rawhide on my raw body. Barbi kissed me on the lips when she was done tying me into my collar. I felt like a puppy. Master, truly my master now, bent and kissed my lips too. “Now, as your first lesson, you must buckle Barbi into her collar,” master told me. “I have let her have unwarranted liberties here, in these last few days, because, frankly, I was obsessed with you lying on the beach in the mornings. She made me let her take her collar off, because, of course, if you’d been approached by a girl wearing a collar you might have run away.” “I might have,” I replied. “She had handcuffs slung through her bikini, but I might have been freaked out if she’d been wearing a collar!” “Well now you get to fasten it on,” master instructed. “Go get it out of the night table.” I went to the nightstand as she stood and embraced him. I felt jealous, yet lucky, to be in such strange company. What would my mom think now? I’ll bet she never bedded a drug lord! I turned around, waited, and at last they separated. I walked up to Barbi and, with a vindictive gleam in my eyes, buckled a simple black dog’s collar around her slim throat. “This is for you,” I told her. Master retrieved a key from someplace nearby and handed it to me. It was small, golden. “Lock it and she won’t be able to get it undone,” he told me. I saw that the end of the collar had, upon being buckled, fitted through something that had a keyhole in it. Sticking my tongue into the corner of my mouth, wanting to make sure I got this right, I put the key into the tiny lockhole and twisted it. Click! Somewhere inside, a mechanism locked down on the collar. Now she was truly master’s. He pulled both of us close. Placing a warm, huge palm on each of our squirming bottoms, he kissed us. I wanted him to take me right there, but he said there was no time. He ordered us both to the shower. In the master bathroom there was a tub and, beside it, just across the tiled floor, a little shower cubicle. Master turned on the tub water for himself to soak in and told us both to get into the cubicle. Barbi must have known already what to do for she led me into the cubicle, then left the door open so he could watch. Instead of turning on the shower, Barbi got a brass pail that was sitting on a bench in the bathroom and filled it under a faucet. The faucet was low to the ground, just outside the cubicle. Master seemed to drink in her asscheeks as she knelt and filled the pail, so sweetly heartshaped, so deliciously offered to his view as he sank into the rapidly-filling tub. Barbi wet me down, then herself, dumping the pail over each of us. The water was ice cold! I screamed as I felt it hit my warm, comfy body. To go from a warm bed to this! Master laughed to himself, enjoying my discomfort. “That’s--that’s enough! I’m wet enough!” I cried, as Barbi went to fetch an obligatory second pail for me. “This is nothing, honey,” Barbi told me frankly. “Compared to what’s to come.” “N-Nooo,” I pleaded. “Are you going to run away now, just because of some icewater?” master taunted me. I think he really did want to see me flee. And I almost did, seeing that second bucketful of glacier-cold water coming toward me. But, at the last moment, I balled my fists, shut my eyes, and counted to ten. ‘Don’t look like a little girl,’ I told myself. ‘Don’t be a little baby.’ “Ready?” Barbi asked. Why couldn’t she just dump the bucket? Why did she have to torment me with it? I hunched my shoulders. I felt very naked. My breasts bulged between my inward-squeezing arms. “No,” I breathed, and held my breath. I expected the water to come splooshing down. “Ready?” Barbi asked, a little insistent now. Her arms, I guessed, were starting to tremble as she held that heavy bucket aloft over me. “No,” I answered. Alright, Barbi, let’s play your game, your way. Can you hold the bucket forever? I doubt it. I heard the bucket set down behind me. Had I won? Slowly I opened my eyes. Suddenly Barbi grabbed me by the hair. “Yeeow!” I cried as she dragged me over to the toilet. She sat right down on it, even though she didn’t have to go, even though the cover was up. She tossed me over her slim model’s thighs and slapped my bottom hard. “Oooh! Oooch! Yeowch!” I blurted, as she gave me three swift cracks with her palm right across my heinie. Master laughed heartily, loving our impromptu entertainment. “You WILL take the bucket,” Barbi, shivering herself from her own first-bucket dousing, told me. “Okay, okay!” I replied, gasping. She drew me up off her lap and marched me back to the little cubicle of torture. She picked up the bucket, asked again if I was ready, and this time I answered, quite meekly, ‘yes.’ Whoosh! Down came that second dreaded bucket. When all the water had been emptied from it, Barbi went to the faucet, filled it once more, and, as I stood freezing, squeezing myself with my arms and admiring her fortitude, she hefted the bucket over hear pretty head and wet herself with it. Then, shivering as deeply as I, she returned to the safety of the cubicle with me. There we soaped each other, and finally turned on hot water to rinse off. It was my first test. I passed with flying colors. Master was proud of me. Barbi and I stood at the sink after our shower and washed our bikinis in specially softened water. Anna brought mine up from the yard, introduced herself, and gave Barbi her own bikini (which had lain in the yard since yesterday when Barbi had cast if off for a moonlight swim with master.) As master continued to enjoy his bath, Barbi and I, working diligently, scrubbed our little bikinis so they’d be nice and fresh for him. While we worked, Barbi began to tell me what was in store for me as a loveslave in master’s house. “You must be trained,” she said. “You will do all sorts of things for master. Whatever he asks, and whenever he asks it. Promptly. Don’t hesitate. You aren’t at home any more. Here master rules, and you obey. I love serving my master, and he loves me because I serve him.” Her voice was sugary-soft. Her words caressed me. I glanced at master, wishing I could know I would obey him. But I didn’t. I’d been spoiled all my life. I might at any moment become rebellious, like with the water, such a simple thing. And yet I’d rebelled. “I’m going to take you both into the country,” master interrupted. “You need training yourself, Barbi, and you certainly, Fury.” “Fury?” I asked. My eyes lifted up from my work. “It is your new name,” he answered. “You are bold. And it is good, for you must be bold, where I am taking you, for your training. Whenever the going gets rough, remember the nickname I’ve given you. Fury. In this way you will become a woman. Stronger than me perhaps, someday. But for now, to learn to lead you first must follow.” “H-How?” I asked. This business of being ‘taken someplace’ was new to me. We must leave Montevideo, certainly. We were too close to my mom, and especially my dad. But what did he mean by it all? “You will be made to do things you might rebel against,” he said, his voice deep, as he lolled in the bath with his prong just rising, inspired anew. “Oooh! I know what that means!” Barbi said, wiggling her heinie. “What?” I asked. “Nevermind,” she answered. “You’ll know soon enough. But I survived it, so don’t worry. Training, I mean. Master, what special place are you taking us to?” “You will see,” he answered. “I make the rules from now on. But, as a hint, I’d advise you both to pack a pillow.” “I can sneak home and get my sleeping bag if it’s needed,” I offered. I remembered a fun overnight trip in fourth grade, sleeping outside. I’d gotten my first kiss from a boy that night, and spent the next three days sleepless, worrying I’d have to tell mom I was pregnant. “You won’t need the pillow for sleeping, silly,” Barbi told me. “Hmmm, dear?” Her eyes darted to master. I saw her bottom shiver. Her bare bottom, so lovely and unprotected, like mine, as we stood before master, washing our swimsuits. “That’s right. You’ll want it for sitting down on,” master answered. What could I say? I wanted to blurt out, ‘You fool! You think you’re in charge of me, but my dad’s trying to kill you!’ But I said nothing. I wouldn’t be his then, not with that kind of ‘heat’ bearing down upon him. He’d forget all about me, I’d never see him again. And my dad (whom I loved) might well be dead by nightfall. No, to protect both the men in my lives, I could say nothing. Perhaps the name master had given me, Fury, wasn’t such a bad name after all. 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> /