Message-ID: <1220eli$9706041429@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: Bush League part 1 of 6 (NND) --------------------------------------------------------------- PROBLEMS? Please try viewing this with Netscape Navigator. --------------------------------------------------------------- _/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/ Andrew Roller Presents NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS in BUSH LEAGUE _/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/ Chapter One I was being held captive in a castle by my boyfriend. His name’s Louis. It’s every girl’s fantasy, I suppose. Or at least, it was mine. I think. Sometimes these things just happen. At least I had my friend Polly to keep me company. She’s such a baby. We both had just received our first real whipping, the night before, and Polly had been told to count off the strokes. She lost track of the numbers. That, at least, is what Rose told me. She’s our mistress. She makes sure we get our ‘just desserts,’ so to speak, and I was just thinking of turning Polly into a dessert when Rose interrupted us in the kitchen. “There you are!” Rose said to us. I was standing with a can of whipped cream in my hand, with Polly laid out on the kitchen table, waiting, and Andre and Louis each standing alongside the table, letting her fondle their cocks. We were all quite naked. “You girls have an appointment with child protective services,” Rose told Polly and I. “I’m sorry, men, but the girls have got to go into town,” she told our boyfriends. They looked quite dejected, suddenly, despite the fact that Polly still was playing with their penises. “You didn’t think you could just steal these girls away from their parents without somebody snooping about, did you?” she asked them. “Be realistic, men. Even in Argentina someone’s bound to hop about when parents call in about their missing daughters. Especially such young teens as these. The fact that your girlfriends are each blessed with big bosoms doesn’t change the fact that they’re both just 13 and 14. Be glad this is Argentina, not America. I’ve arranged for a sympathetic interview. With luck, they may be back by afternoon.” Gently but firmly Rose disengaged our adult boyfriend’s members from Polly’s small hands. Their pricks quivered with their need. “God, let us just cum, then,” Louis groaned, and I was surprised to see him beg. Usually he was quite manly, suppressing his need, letting us play with him until we were ready. “You’ve already gone twice this morning,” Polly scolded him, rising from the table and whacking his cockhead with her erect pointing finger. She winced as she felt the effects of the whipping on her bottom. The pain lingered still, though it was a fuller, more beautific pain now, if you let yourself think about it a certain way. It sort of glowed over my bottom, and hers too, I imagine, except where the single weal I’d been given still made a knot of unremitting sharpness within my skin. Polly scooted herself down off the kitchen table and patted her bottom with both her hands to try to brush away the pain. We weren’t bruised or anything, as I’ve heard sometimes happens to women. We’d just been given good paddlings, that’s all, but with some fearsome implements. They’d scored our heinies but been kept from really hurting us. Rose had a sheepish hand when it came to disciplining a girl. She tried to be rough and tough but her gentle side always won out. This I was to learn in more detail at my appointment. “Don’t blame me. They just called,” Rose said to our boyfriends about child protective services. She hustled Polly and I out of the kitchen and upstairs to my bedroom where, laid out on clean sheets were prim schoolgirl uniforms. “It’s a school day, girls, in case you didn’t notice,” Rose smiled at Polly and I. “Get dressed quickly and try not to put too much makeup on. I need you both to look like innocents, not whores.” We nodded. She made us both visit the tub first. We did each other’s bottoms, since they were still quite sore from last night. Then we slipped into our new clothes and raced each other down the front staircase and out to Rose’s limo. Rose did not accompany us. I have a sneaking suspicion she stayed behind to attend to Louis and Andre’s penises. After all, they’d both been sporting huge erections, and at a place like Rose’s, nicknamed Cunt Castle, they were sure to find some female to relieve themselves in. People seemed to come and go quite regularly. Rose was always entertaining new guests. And then there were her special guests, like Polly and I, kept for days there just because she liked us and felt we were especially pretty. I wondered if she were a lesbian. I mean, she couldn’t be, could she? Rose liked men as much as she liked girls and women. I guess she liked all the flavors of the rainbow, sexually. But, as I was soon to learn, she was just getting started in this sort of play. “It hurts to sit on my bottom,” Polly told me. “Especially for long periods.” “You sat on the chaise lounge out by the pool okay,” I told her. Rose had supplied the limo with hand held video games this morning, perhaps expecting that we’d have trouble sitting still. I’d gotten in first and claimed Centipede. I think Polly was less than satisfied with being stuck with Space Invaders. It’s such an old, boring game. “Well, I guess...” Polly began, and then made a grab for my centipede game. “No! Polly! I got it first!” I told her. “Oh, this is stupid,” Polly complained. She yanked at the necktie of her schoolgirl uniform, a big floppy decorative bow, loosening it. “Polly, you have to be good and look like a proper little girl or we’ll be sent back to our parents,” I warned her. “I don’t like wearing clothes anymore,” she said frankly. “I just want to swim in my pool and not wear anything!” “It’s not your pool, it’s Rose’s,” I replied. “I have a pool at my house,” she told me proudly. “Do your mom and dad let you skinny dip in it?” I asked pointedly. “No,” Polly said, and went back to concentrating on Space Invaders. “Maybe if you played at something more sophisticated than the Teddy Bear level you’d enjoy the game more,” I suggested. There was an electric picture of a teddy bear’s face in the corner of her screen. “I can’t WIN at the other levels,” Polly replied. “Oh well, if you’re good and don’t undress yourself I’ll switch with you on the way back,” I promised her. “Okay,” Polly answered. She seemed happy now. She zapped the descending aliens with increasing success. “I’m almost up to two million points!” Polly declared as we finally approached the child protection building. “Well, get ready to quit. We’re almost there,” I told her, looking out the window. “Now I just want to play Space Invaders for the rest of my life,” Polly admitted. Our driver escorted us up into the big Child Protective building. It looked like a structure Stalin had designed. It was shaped like a box, stretching toward the sky like the Tower of Babel, and each window had been carefully fitted with bars to make sure none of the protected children decided to seek independence. Frederick, our driver, turned us over to someone at the door. He looked mean. A short, fat man with a handlebar mustache. He had a big nametag on. With a very officious demeanor he led us up to the front desk and turned us over to the lady there. She glanced up at us from behind granny glasses. “You will be called when I’m ready for you,” the woman told us. She pointed to some empty chairs beyond a door, and the fat man took us through the door, which had a pane of heavy, unbreakable glass in it. We sat down and the fat man left, locking the door on his way out. Polly and I sat on hard plastic chairs, not the least comfortable, and found ourselves staring out at the woman behind the desk. “What do we do now?” Polly asked me. She tried shifting her weight to get her bottom more comfortable but it was no use. “Try to look good. Read a magazine,” I said absently to her, as distracted as she was at the uncomfortable nature of our seats. Polly glanced around. On a nearby platform (it posed as a table but was nothing but a square of plastic stuck between two chairs) some magazines lay. Polly, glad for an excuse to get up, walked over the table. She bent to look at the magazines and I smiled to myself as I saw her dress lift up in back to show the tops of her white schoolgirl stockings. They kept her legs clad in white worsted right up to mid-thigh, but above her legs gleamed out like tanned columns of cinnamon. A little higher and one might see her white undies, if she bent over more. Pull them down and her marks from the whipping would show. “Jack and Jill, Family Circle, Jack and the Beanstalk!” Polly read aloud from the magazine’s covers. “How to Teach your Child to be Safe!” “How to Teach your Child to Count to Ten!” “The Alphabet Made Easy!” Polly’s voice became more contemptuous as she read off each title and each article. “Yick! This magazine has a booger on its cover!” Polly declared. She flounced back to me, letting her schoolgirl dress flip up as high as she could, swaying her hips most salaciously, letting her bosoms bounce, and sat back down next to me. “Polly! Didn’t you put on your bra?” I asked her. I hadn’t noticed how bouncy her breasts were until just now. “Why should I? I’m only 13,” Polly snipped. “I’m not supposed to have breasts this big so why should I wear a bra over them?” “We’re trying to be GOOD, Polly!” I told her. “Please behave so we can go back to Louis and Andre.” “I don’t like Andre anymore,” Polly declared. I felt a shiver run through me as I worried she might turn in Rose. Then she smiled. “I like Louis,” she told me. “Well, then don’t blow it for us,” I snapped. Polly was giving me fits. No bra, won’t play her Space Invaders, then won’t quit, now saying she might just decide she doesn’t like Rose’s castle, even though in the limo she’d said she wanted to swim naked there forever. “Do you like partying at Rose’s?” I asked her. “Sort of,” Polly replied, considering, playing with her fingers as if fiddling with them would give her God’s answer. “But I certainly don’t like having my bottom spanked!” “Just be glad you didn’t get a weal like me, Polly,” I told her. “Though God knows you deserve them all over your tushy, in my opinion.” “Girls, would you please come with me?” the woman with the granny glasses suddenly said to us. She was standing just inside the door, and she’d unlocked it without us hearing her. We both got up, and I saw Polly move with extra caution lest she wiggle her breasts and let on that she had no bra. We were separated. I was taken to a room by myself. I sat down in another plastic chair to wait, this time with the option of reading “Children’s Playland” if I chose, a dog-eared magazine dated from 1982. It advised parents that their children should be made to wear “Safety Beepers” to protect them from strange men. A head looked in on me as I considered the magazine. A hand, gnarled with age, passed me a white paper gown. “Please take off all your clothes and put this on,” an old woman told me. Her eyes seemed to regard me with intense jealousy, as if she would like nothing more than to see me spayed. I accepted the paper gown. She shut the door and I swallowed. Then, standing up, I took off the modest clothing I’d so carefully put on. I was just tying the last of the paper gown’s drawstrings over my front when a woman entered, about Rose’s age. She had curly brown hair, long hair, that she’d bundled efficiently atop her head for her work. She had a pronounced bust. A stethoscope hung down over her white nurse’s jacket, and I found myself wondering what it would look like just against her skin, cool, metallic, snaking down between those womanly breasts of hers. At the same time I felt disappointment that I hadn’t been assigned a man to examine me. But then, I would never be, here, would I? Not at child protective services. “Please get on the table,” the nurse told me. She laid down her clipboard and pushed a small wooden platform over to the side of the room’s examining table. Then, as I watched, she drew a pair of cold steel stirrups out from the end of the table. She inverted the stirrups so that they both pointed down. “On your belly, please,” she told me. I got on the stool and then pushed myself with my hands up onto the table. I lay down on it, hesitant in my movements, but finally letting myself just relax against its hard surface. There was a cushion beneath me but it was made of such solid, efficient leather that it almost need not have been there at all, for the good it did me. A simple paper sheet lay drawn along its surface, pulled from a roller at its head. Just before I’d laid down the nurse had drawn down the sheet to tear it off from the last patient’s visit. There had been a wet spot on the sheet where I knew my pussy would lie. Now as I settled into the clean portion of the sheet I wondered if I’d leave a similar spot when I got up. The nurse offered me a small pillow and I let her slip it under my face. Then she lifted my head and set my chin on the pillow and popped a thermometer in my mouth. “You have a nice tan. Have you been playing in the sun?” the nurse asked me. I nodded, holding tight to the thermometer between my lips. She moved down to my legs and drew them apart. With soft fingers she placed each of my feet in the downward pointing stirrups. Then she looped a band of leather around my ankle and tied it. I was not wearing my anklets or wristlets, or my collar. Those had been left behind, at Rose’s. It felt odd to have the leather tightened around my ankle. I was not used to that part of my skin being bare, despite spending all weekend nude. Now it was tied up again, but the leather which bound me now was thin, like a shoelace, and the nurse tied it so that it made a little bow at the back of my foot. I lifted my heels a little and found that they were quite immovable, being fixed to the stirrups now. I was imprisoned again, though for what purpose I knew not. The nurse hiked up the back of my paper gown. I felt the air of the room touch the backs of my thighs and then finally my upswelling rear. The nurse gasped. “Who did this to your bottom?” she asked. She traced my red-hued scars with the tip of her finger. I shivered a little. There was a thermometer in my mouth. She remembered, and plucked it from my lips just as I reached to take it out myself. “I-I can’t say,” I replied. “I don’t want to blame anyone. But I don’t want to go home either.” “Oh, my, well, I wouldn’t want you to have to go home either,” the nurse answered. But I sensed a bit of amusement in her voice. I had not said my dad did this to me, or my mom. Did she think they did, or did she know better? “Let me get some lotion to put on your poor hiney,” the nurse told me. She read my thermometer. “Well, your temp’s okay,” she told me. “About your fanny, there’s a best way to do it and the ordinary way,” she said. “Yes?” I asked. I looked up at her with innocent eyes. I was doing okay so far. No questions I’d had to lie about, and she seemed to have moved on to just healing me now, like a real doctor, not worrying about my injuries came about but only how to make them better. “If I put--” She seemed slightly flustered. She touched a hand to her hair, then to the topmost button on her vest, where her collar suddenly seemed to be fitted so tightly around her slim neck. “If I put the lotion on with my fingers that will be okay,” she said. “This sounds silly but-- if I use my nipples, that will be better. It will be softer and won’t hurt as much.” She fidgeted with her collar button. “Okay,” I replied. “Good,” she said. “I’m glad you agree.” She undid the buttons of her jacket, letting me watch, still wishing I could have a man doctor somehow, and wondering how I might ask her, when her jacket popped open and her breasts burst forth, full and upthrusting and with quivering teats. “I should wear a blouse and bra but I was in a rush this morning,” my nurse explained. “A demanding boyfriend,” she added. I saw teeth marks around the tips of her breasts but said nothing. Love hickeys, left by her boyfriend to remind her of his love. Had he suspected she’d show them to a female patient? My nurse saw me watching and cupped her breasts. Briefly she looked at her tits. “Yes, it was kind of a rough night,” she admitted. Then she let go of them and they hung very nicely, kind of like gourds, but much rounder. “Are your breasts okay?” she asked me. “Yes,” I answered. There was a thankful sigh in my voice. “Good. I’ll check them later for you, just to be sure,” my nurse told me. “By the way, since we’re going to be somewhat intimate with each other, showing each other our marks and all, my name’s Glenda,” she said. “Mine’s Fleury,” I replied. “Yes, I see it on the chart,” she nodded, indicating her clipboard, which lay on the plastic chair now, where I’d been sitting, trying so hard just a few minutes ago to be as simple and plain and unaffected as possible. Now I was quite naked and showing my scars, my gown hiked up and my tanned legs pulled apart and tied off at the ankles in metal stirrups. I was living a girl’s life, I suppose. My nurse got lotion and, without removing her dress, or any other part of her clothing, including her neat white nurse’s hat, she dribbled lotion from a small glass bottle onto her nipples. Then, with her nipples gleaming, she lowered down my table by pressing a switch. She looked like a doctor preparing for an operation, except she was topless and there were no tools to cut me with lying about, my cuts already having been inflicted the night before. Glenda pressed her fingertips to my paper-sheathed table. She leaned over my bottom and, in very gentle circular motions, she began brushing her wet nipples over my heinie. “Ohhh,” I breathed, feeling those prim wet tips trace healing lotion onto my flaming tushy. She breathed a gentle “oh” of her own, echoing mine. Was she feeling the healing effects of the lotion upon the teeth marks her boyfriend had left on her breasts, or was she feeling pleasure at caressing me? I could not tell. I did not ask. Whenever she ran short of lotion on the tips of her nipples Glenda would stop and put more on. Then she would return her soft teats to my ass, newly wettened, and begin caressing me once more. “How do you feel?” she asked, after a bit. I turned my head. I let my cheek snuggle against my pillow. “Nice,” I replied. “Is your ass starting to feel better?” she asked. “Mmmm, a little,” I replied truthfully, for all the oil, however carefully it might be applied, would still not take all the sting out of my bottom. Only time would heal that. She placed two fingers gently within my bottom crack and vented me. “Have you been playing with widening yourself?” she asked me. “Mmmm, a little,” I replied again, feeling warm and cared for. It was nice to have someone so attentive looking after me. “I only mention that because you seem to have an especially tight asshole,” she said. “Your boyfriend might need to stick something up you to make you more accessible.” She touched my hiney-hole with the tip of her finger. Secretly I wished she’d use her nipple. “I’ve learned to relax it better,” I confessed. “Good,” she replied. “Would you like me to help a little? It’s totally ‘off the books,’ you know, doing something like that, but I had the same problem myself.” Her voice seemed sympathetic. “Okay,” I answered, not thinking about it really, just letting her do with me as she pleased. Glenda went to a table on which there were cotton swabs, a syringe, and a speculum, all laid out neatly, just waiting, waiting... She reached behind the items laid on the table and opened a metal box. She had to stand on tip-toe to find what she wanted inside it, her breasts hanging down like ripe fruit, wet at the tips, her tongue lightly licking her lips. Finally Glenda drew forth a long gleaming dildo, hard metal steel but with joints in it, as if it might need to bend in certain places, if enough pressure were applied to it, to accommodate whatever it was stuck inside of. The dildo was quite thin, but I saw a bladder at the bottom of it. “This is called a Devil’s Dildo,” Glenda told me. She held it aloft for me to catch sight of and then went to the sink and began running the water there until it was as cold as she could make it. She filled the bladder at the base of the dildo with the icy water. Matter of factly she walked over to me. She showed me the dildo up close. She squirted lotion onto it, the same as had been used on my bottom, applying it through the nipple-tip of the small glass bottle until the bottle was almost empty. “When the dildo is inserted I’m going to squirt ice water up your rectum,” Glenda told me. “The ice water is quite uncomfortable, but it should help you get more in touch with your asshole. As you can see, the dildo is quite long, longer than a man’s penis, and I’m going to try to get the whole thing up you. Tell me if I’m hurting you, but don’t expect me to stop unless I actually think it’s impossible to go on. I just need feedback to help you master your sensations, that’s all. Okay?” She smiled at me. “I- I don’t want to,” I told her quite frankly. “Play with yourself while I do it,” she told me. “It will make it easier for you and I need to check whether you can have normal orgasms anyway. Sorry, but no men allowed. This is child protective services, you understand. I can’t break all the rules for you. Just diddle your spot and see if you can concentrate on your clitty, but remember I’ll be getting you in touch with your backhole all the while, squirting icewater up you as we proceed so you can feel the entire length of your inner tubing, as one might say. Would you like a little something to ease your nervousness before I begin?” I nodded, silently, saying nothing. Glenda went to the countertop again, where the other instruments lay. She reached down beneath it and opened what I saw to be a small refrigerator. There were samples inside it, of blood, urine, feces, each neatly bottled and packaged and labeled. There was also a freezer compartment in the fridge. Glenda opened it and took out a tray of ice cubes and plopped the dildo into it. I shivered, seeing that. It was supposed to go up my ass in a minute! Rummaging among the specimen containers, reaching all the way to the back, Glenda drew out a flask of brandy. She reached up to an overhead cupboard and got out a medicine cup. Wiping the top of the brandy flask first, to make sure it was clean, using a medicated sanitary wipe to do it, she then opened the flask of brandy and poured it into the medicine cup. She brought it over to me and made me sip it down. “It doesn’t taste too good, because it’s partly mixed with castor oil, but it should still help you relax,” Glenda told me. She poured the brandy between my lips for me. “Ew, won’t it make me go to the bathroom?” I asked her frankly. “Some, but it’s okay. I need you nice and juicy in back because when we’re done with the Devil’s Dildo I’m going to give you the biggest you’ve ever had. We nurses call it the Master John, because gays sometimes use it to train their lovers. Start rubbing yourself so you’ll be plenty aroused when it’s time for that one,” Glenda said. “If you don’t mind I’m going to rub myself a little while you do yourself. May I undress?” “I don’t mind,” I replied. I was curious to see her bush, I must admit, after admiring her bosoms. Anyway, I wasn’t exactly hiding anything from her. Glenda removed her dress and then her panties, leaving just her stockings and heels on, and her little nurse’s hat. “I hope nobody comes in,” Glenda told me. “I locked the door but some people do have the key. When it’s time to put the Master John in you I’m going to put it on, if it’s okay with you. It’s too hard to push it in with my hands.” “Alright,” I said. This was getting more demanding every minute. “Thanks for letting me undress early,” she told me. “It is kind of tough to have that Master John rubbing against my clit if I haven’t prepped myself. It’s supposed to have a soft harness but I find it kind of rough, actually, though I’ve tried wearing it down and I’ve used it, of course, on other girls.” “How many girls do you do this to?” I asked. “Only the special ones, the ones that need it,” she replied. Was she keeping back half the truth from me, as I had about the reason for my bottom? I couldn’t tell. At least I did know she had a boyfriend, so there was no question she was normal. Just a little helpful, that’s all, for girls who needed it, like me. In a previous generation she’d have handed out birth control pills to someone like me, surreptitiously, or helped me find a doctor willing to do an abortion. But now, with those things quite legal, she’d moved on to other aspects of girls’ sexuality, like helping them accept their lover’s big penises up their hineyholes. “I’m going to lick you with my tongue to help you feel sensuous,” Glenda told me. She was peering into my bottom now, having fetched back the dildo from the ice tray. “Alright,” I agreed. I felt her fingers pressed hard to the insides of my buttcrack. I was glad the whip had mostly missed that part of me. Gentleness could not be had there if she was to help me. “Play with yourself, Fleury,” Glenda reminded me. As I felt her tongue descend to the rim of my sphincter and lightly daub me there, I slipped my hands down my belly, arching my bottom up to let myself find my clit. “Ooooh!” I sighed. Glenda’s tongue stabbed within my sensitive hole just as my fingers found my spot. “Rub,” Glenda reminded me, mangling her order a bit because her tongue was sticking into my hole, making it actually sound more like “flub,” but I knew what she meant. The next few minutes passed quietly. Glenda, in no hurry, despite the fact that her ass was mooning a door someone might walk through at any moment, licked within my hiney hole, exploring it at first, then stabbing more deeply, with firmness and determination. I played with myself quite happily, not caring how silly we looked. I was glad to have something to take my mind off the marks that scored the cheeks of my bottom. I would never have agreed to be tongued like this if I hadn’t been whipped, I realized. Glenda relubricated the Devil’s Dildo when she felt I was finally ready for it. She had to fetch a new bottle of lotion to do it. Then, seeing that it had warmed because she’d taken it from the ice tray, she popped it in the freezer for a few minutes and went back to licking like a doggy with her tongue up my hole. Finally all was ready. Glenda got the dildo, put just a dab more lotion on it, and breathed on it for luck. Then she inserted the tip of it in me, making me cry out. “Oh, you mustn’t scream,” she said. She laid the dildo aside and went to the countertop and fetched some cloth. Returning to me, standing over my head, she bound my mouth with the cloth without bothering to ask my permission. Then, after checking that I could still breathe through my nose, she returned to my rear. Every inch of the Devil’s Dildo proved to be an agony. Although it was thin, and I relaxed myself as best I could, Glenda insisted on squirting icewater repeatedly up my anus to keep me in touch, as she said, with my chocolate chute. The thing itched as it went up. It seemed to force the air from my lungs. I felt as if I were a little champagne bottle and she was stuffing the cork back into me. Finally, feeling quite frozen inside my behind, she told me I’d taken it all. I couldn’t believe it. Tears were rolling down my cheeks from my exertions. I’d tried my best to let it in but spent just as much time instinctively trying to expel it. It had wearied me. The brandy was making me sleepy. I felt like I might need to poop soon. Glenda gave me the rest of the ice water from the dildo’s bladder. Then, after all I’d gone through to have it put up me, she drew it out. “What are you doing?” I heard Polly’s voice pipe up as the extra long Devil’s Dildo was withdrawn, turd-like, from my anus. My shit lightly coated its once flawless, gleaming metal sides, hiding its luster behind a veil of my nether essence. “Pooolly!” I cried, turning my head. My eyes, despite my tears, looked guilty. I rubbed myself more furiously, seeing her. I was feeling quite passionate now. Polly stood buck naked, shutting the door quietly behind her as she entered our room. “I took all my clothes off like they told me but nobody ever came,” Polly explained. “That’s probably nurse Johnson,” Glenda said, taking out my dildo. “A real bitch. She’s probably late because she’s in court testifying why some girl needs forcible psychiatric care.” Glenda took the dildo from my bottom and walked it over to the sink and dropped it within its gleaming basin. She ran water over it to wash it off. Polly, her bottom still red from her whipping, crept up to me and examined my violated hole. “Why are you having this done?” Polly asked. Tenderly she touched me where the dildo had just come out. Her snub nose wriggled a little at seeing the shit smeared round the edge of my sphincter. “Polly, have you ever played with yourself?” Glenda asked her. “‘Course,” Polly admitted, with a sheepish look on her face. Instinctively she let her hand slip down to her soft pubis and touch herself. “Good. That’s just what I want you to do in a minute, after you help me get into this Master John,” Glenda told her. “I’m glad you’re here. I might have had to untie Fleury and get her to help me. This thing is way fucking big and heavy and it’s hard to hold it up and tie it on at the same time, especially if you’re just a girl. I’m not used to hauling a big pecker around with me, you know.” “Gooosh!” Polly exclaimed as she saw Glenda bend down and take a massive sausage-sized dildo out of the fridge. It looked like it was made of pliable rubber, but some wicked soul had decided to store it in the fridge anyway, just to make a girl like me more miserable. Glenda beckoned Polly over to her. “It’s cold,” Polly said, touching her fingers to the big sausage. “Yes, it’s been in the refrigerator, Polly,” Glenda replied, stating the obvious. “There, I’ve got the straps untangled. Polly, when I pass them under myself and back around behind myself, I want you to tie them all together, okay? Just use the drawstrings.” “I’m glad I learned to tie my shoes,” Polly admitted, seeing all the laces dangling from the ends of the Master John’s straps. Together the two of them got the devilish thing wrapped round Glenda’s pussified loins, making her look like a man when they were all done. Glenda sauntered over to me, looking more confident than I’d ever seen her. The big wangling sausage-shaped dildo bounced stiffly between her Venus-like legs. She was truly a creature God had never intended, and she was about to put the world’s biggest dildo up my quite small hole. “I left the balls off,” Glenda told me, getting on my table with me and mounting my bottom. “I figured you’d have enough weight bearing down on you without those being added. They make bowling balls look like something little girls play jacks with,” she laughed. With total disregard for the state of my bottom she gripped my cheeks and yanked them hard apart. I cried out but my gag stifled my scream. “Oh, don’t hurt her!” Polly admonished. “Play with yourself, Polly,” Glenda told her. Polly seemed hesitant. “Or I’ll ram it up you next,” she added. “Okay!” Polly replied anxiously. She was getting hot just watching me and she began twiddling with her spot now, not wanting to be punished and feeling a little like she might enjoy an orgasm anyway. Glenda pushed the giant dildo head against my sphincter. “Relax, Fleury,” she ordered me. “Is the brandy helping?” “Yes,” I admitted. I was feeling quite sleepy and my hiney cheeks seemed to be growing apart from me. I felt her hands on my bottom but despite the pain of her firm touch I did not cry out. “Here goes,” Glenda said. She gritted her teeth and shoved hard with the sausage against my hole. There was no give. She pushed again, harder. I screeched into my gag as I suddenly felt just the nose of the thing somehow nudge its way into me. “No more! No more!” I exclaimed, quite awake now, but still feeling a little sleepy in my hiney cheeks, as if they’d gone to sleep like your foot sometimes does. Had there been novocaine mixed in with the ice water inside the other dildo’s bladder? “Yes, Fleury, it must happen sometime,” Glenda admonished. “Don’t worry, I won’t break you,” she added. “I’m being as careful as I can.” Polly stood in the corner, by the countertop, with its neat row of implements, watching with wide eyes and rubbing herself ever more briskly. Her small titties shook with delicious little tremors, big for her age but still nowhere as big as Glenda’s juggernauts, full-gown women’s tits bouncing above her ribs as she drew in her breath and impaled me more fully on her fake man-sized cock. Giant-sized, I should say. I felt as if an entire sausage-like beanstalk were being forced up me. Jack would have fared better if he’d been caught and punished by the Giant in the land above the clouds. “Oooooh, it’s so naughty!” Polly exclaimed suddenly. She rushed up as if to save me but, at the last minute, she licked one of her fingers and poked it within Glenda’s behind. “Polly, don’t fuck ME!” Glenda cried, but it was no use. Having found Glenda’s hole, Polly jammed her finger into it and began screwing my nurse. “Oh, please, stop,” Glenda told Polly, bearing down on me and making me take a bit more of the sausage cock as she herself found that her clit was as close to orgasm as mine was. “Yesssss!” I screamed suddenly, finding mine, and I felt hot rushes of heat blow up within my legs even as I strove to expel the refrigerated sausage from my hiney. Glenda bucked atop me, striving to impale me more but winding up with Polly’s finger digging more intrusively into her own hole instead. There was just no way that sausage was going to get up me, no matter how much spiked brandy she fed me or novocaine she put up my butt. “Yeah, yeah, youuu get it toooo,” Polly exclaimed, rubbing herself furiously now as she stuck Glenda’s big mommie’s bottom with her finger. “Ahhh, I’m sorry Fleury but I’m cummmmingggg!” Glenda cried. She bounced her sausage ever more deeply and penetratingly upon my widespread hole, finally piercing me a little with its big blunt nose, as the strap which held it on made her clit shiver with spendings. As soon as we’d all cum it was over. Glenda dismounted me a little sheepishly, feeling foolish bound up round her cunny in a big manly cock. Polly went to the countertop and made a point of wiping her finger very well upon a handful of kleenex. I suspected she’d never put it up a woman’s bottom before, and she said nothing of it, as if hoping we’d forget. Glenda untied me like a butcher giving a calf a reprieve. I got up, with a little help from her, and found it awkward to sit upon my bottom, still sore and now so fully violated, with a little of the sleepiness still shivering within it. We wiped ourselves with kleenex at the sink as best we could. Then Glenda and I dressed, silently. No mention was made of inspecting my breasts, my sex, my belly. This examination had obviously taken longer than most already. When she was fully dressed again Glenda looked in the mirror over the sink and adjusted her hat. “Tell Rose I’ll see that your parents are informed that we’re following up on all available leads,” she said. “Rose is a bush leaguer, my boyfriend says, when it comes to bondage, but I’m sure you’ll have fun anyway.” “A bush leaguer?” Polly asked. “My boyfriend would really rough you up,” Glenda explained. “He hasn’t me yet, but I saw photos of his last girlfriend. I keep teasing him. Wish me luck,” she smiled. “You want to be roughed up?” I asked her. “Why do you think I’m a nurse?” she replied. “I like it rough. I became a nurse so I’d understand myself better, although my boyfriend says I should have majored in psychology instead. I need to understand myself physically so I can keep things from going too far, but still push them all the way, you know?” Polly just stared at her. She was still nude. We’d have to go down the hall and fetch her clothes for her. “Don’t bump into me in a dark alley, kid,” Glenda said to Polly, grinning. She put her finger under the girl’s chin and kissed her lightly on the nose. We emerged from the child protective services building like two children just released from school. Our blouses were white and crisp, our neckties straight, our skirts pleated and primly worn. Polly delighted in bouncing down the building’s front steps and watching her titties shake. I had my bra on underneath my blouse. I didn’t want to take any chances until we were completely out of sight of the Stalinesque building behind us. I tried not to think of what might have happened to us if our indiscretions with Glenda had been discovered. Well, it was not our fault if our physicals got a little too physical, was it? I suspected we would have been implicated somehow. And Glenda wouldn’t have been able to send us back to Rose. I wiped my forehead with my hand. The afternoon had settled in, full with the heat of the latter part of the day. I need my pool. Rose’s pool. I needed to be naked again and swimming in its cool waters. Or playing inside with whipped cream. I wondered what Louis and Andre were up to. Did they still have all that sperm in their balls that they’d still had when Polly and I had left them? I doubted it, but Rose I suspected was a little more bloated perhaps in her tummy, if they really filled her up like they seemed capable of doing when we left. I took Polly’s hand. “The limo should be here any minute,” I told her. “I get Centipede on the ride back,” she replied. “Okay,” I agreed. 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> /