Message-ID: <5929eli$9711281618@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: Andrew Roller Subject: Nov 27 Enslaved to Eros part 3 of 3 (NND) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Reply-To: roller39@IDT.NET Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-ID: <347D2733.7DA5@idt.net> --------------------------------------------------------------- PROBLEMS? Please try viewing this with Netscape Navigator. --------------------------------------------------------------- _/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/ Andrew Roller Presents NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS in ENSLAVED TO EROS _/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/ Chapter Three I had arrived at Miss Wood’s made up, with my hair done up in pigtails and a fetching cami doing its best to keep me modest. I’d touched up my makeup behind the screen, in her pretend doctor’s office, and she and Jane had attended to my dell, giving it a special beautification. Yet it had all been utterly ruined by the lusty depredations of the three boys. They’d left me with sperm oozing profusely from my cunt, and with nipples so sore the air itself seemed to sting them. As I was undone from the table by Miss Wood and Jane, and helped up, I felt like a complete tramp. I could barely stand when they put my bare feet onto the floor. Sperm ran freely down the insides of my cunt. I felt like a boy must feel, when he’s messed in his pants. Except I was a girl. Girls didn’t have sperm, unless they were slutty enough to let boys shoot it all over them and up inside them. “My, how messy she is,” Miss Wood told Jane. “She has no respect for her body.” “I agree,” Jane smiled. “She smells like a boys’ locker room.” “And a boys’ latrine, too,” Miss Wood said. “Look. She’s let boys shoot their jism all over her. Next thing you know, they’ll be peeing on her too!” Jane laughed and her eyes gazed at me mirthfully. We’d already played that game, in her bed, with her husband and Nick, earlier in the evening. “She is a total slut,” Jane agreed. “And I’ll bet she’s pregnant too, with all that sperm inside her.” “No doubt,” Miss Wood said. “Fortunately a girl as young as she is can still be dealt with. Let’s take her back to my classroom, where I can deal with her properly.” “Will it be sufficient?” Jane asked. “She has a poor posture. Look how unsteadily she stands. Perhaps she needs to be put someplace she can be tied.” “Yes,” Miss Wood agreed. “Oh, please! I can’t take anymore!” I whimpered. Jane grasped me by my right breast, as if I were a sack of potatoes, which, indeed, I felt very much like, at that moment, being so completely used by the boys and left unceremoniously by them on the table, their jism running down the insides of my thighs. I winced. It hurt for the air itself to touch my tits, let alone Jane’s fingers. Miss Wood rubbed her hand all over the bare skin of my bottom, savoring its nakedness. “Love is firmness, Bambi,” Jane told me. Miss Wood peered at me closely. “She has had enough,” Miss Wood declared. “Hmmm?” Jane asked. “I will not take a girl beyond what she can tolerate,” Miss Wood said. “But with me you--” Jane began. “You were older, dear,” Miss Wood said. “She is only 13.” “You wish us to leave, then?” Jane asked. “Yes, dear. Though I regret it, and have had no satisfaction for myself,” Miss Wood said. She brushed a hand back through her hair. “Yick!” she said. She pulled her fingers out of her hair. They were laden with sticky jism that one of the boys, in his eagerness to stick himself somewhere, had shot into it. She looked at her cum laden hand. “Save, that is, for the bit of playing I did with the boys.” She smiled. “There will be other nights when she can taste the cane.” “It is a disappointment,” Jane said. “I do not wish to break her down, but to build her up, through this training,” Miss Wood said. “It is designed to enhance her wilpower. Were we to proceed any further tonight, her training would have the opposite effect.” Miss Wood kissed my cheek. “You have done well, Bambi. Feel proud of yourself. You have shown great boldness in the face of the unknown. You will make a very fine model, or whatever it is you wish to be in life.” I turned my head to her. Tears, already brimming in my eyes, began streaming down my face. “Miss Wood,” I stammered. “Will I-- Will we meet again?” It seemed a very odd question, considering all she’d put me through. Every fiber of my being wished simply to escape, to get out of that awful house, and away from her. And yet, she had been merciful to me, in the end. And she’d pampered me. She’d paid attention to me. She’d found needs I didn’t even know I had, and filled them. “Perhaps,” Miss Wood said. There was a sparkle in her eye. She kissed my cheek. “Perhaps we will,” she said. I was given a quick bath upstairs by both women, so I wouldn’t make a mess in Jane’s car. Miss Wood wrapped a towel around her head to keep from getting more of the boys’ jism on me. Then, at the front door, she kissed me goodnight. She did it right on my lips, with the front door behind me. Jane was holding it open. I was wrapped in a big, fluffy towel, but it was wrapped high on me, and as Miss Wood drew me up on my tiptoes, kissing me, the towel rose on my body. It exposed the underside of my fanny. It was nude. The wind blew in the front door. It touched my bare ass. I shivered. I hoped nobody was passing by out on the road. “Goodbye,” Miss Wood breathed, letting me part from her. Impulsively I rose on my toes, on my own this time, and kissed her cheek. “Night,” I said. Then I nearly collapsed, I was so exhausted. Miss Wood caught me in her arms and passed me to Jane. She took my hand and I walked unsteadily, a towel wrapped warmly round my head and another around my body, but my heinie still showing its underside, down the front steps. Jane carried her bag, that she’d brought things in; some played with, some not. Diapers, a baby bottle. The camisole I’d worn. A pacifier. Jane drove me back to her home. I fell asleep in the car. When we arrived, she woke me, and led me sleepily into her house. Katie was still there, with Rob and Nick. They were still in the living room. But the Clue game had been put aside. Instead, Katie lay on the living room floor. There was a container of Redi-Wip in her hand. She was lying on her back, merrily squirting whipped cream all over herself as the two men bent over her. They both had stiff erections. Their eyes showed hunger as they lifted them to Jane and I. “Are you boys having fun?” Jane asked. “Yeah,” Rob answered. “How was your visit to Miss Wood’s?” I began to falter, standing beside Jane, and she caught me. “She has had enough for this evening,” Jane told her husband. “I’m going to take her home.” “Alright,” Rob said. He looked at me. But his eyes didn’t mirror the passion I felt for him. I was just a girl. Young, attractive, but just a girl. He’d had girls work for him before, in his flower shop, and no doubt I wasn’t the last. I felt relief, in a way. I felt embarrassed at having peed in the bed with him and now I wasn’t sure I liked him. Perhaps it was just jealousy. He’d stayed behind, at the house, after all. With Katie. I looked at her. She squirted cream into her dell. “Some goes here too, of course!” Katie announced. “I saw this once on Playboy!” “You’re too young to watch Playboy,” Nick told her. “Yes, but I’m not too young to *be* Playboy!” Katie assured him. “I’m the dessert of the month.” “Or of the night,” Rob sniggered. Katie, if she heard it, ignored him. Instead she turned her head and looked back at myself and Jane. “I’m going home too, just as soon as we have dessert!” Katie called out to us. Was she afraid we’d leave her alone again, a 12-year-old, all by herself with two grown, randy men? I did not know. As for myself, I was almost beyond exhaustion. I could barely stand. I groped with my hands at the sofa. Jane saw it. “Yes, dear. You have had quite a night,” Jane said. “Was it scary being bound to that table, while strange boys fucked you?” “Very,” I said, almost inaudibly. She laid me down on the couch. Katie rolled on her tummy on the floor. She handed the Redi-Wip to Nick. “Put some on my bottom,” she told him. “I want it all over me, just like I saw on T.V.” “If you insist,” Nick said. “Mind if I cool down my erection first?” “Yummy!” was all Katie said in reply. Nick pointed the can at his dick and fired it. “Ohhh!” Nick said. “That feel pretty good.” He levelled it at Katie’s bottom. Slyly he reached out and parted the cheeks of her ass. “Oh, not in my hole!” Katie screeched. Nick gave her a squirt right between the halves of her bottom. “Yoook!” Katie shouted. “Don’t!” She wiggled her bare heinie. Cold, wet cream oozed up from between her tight cheeks. “That feels funny,” she gasped. “How about if I put something a little more substantial there?” Nick asked. There was a touch of menace in his voice. Quickly he mounted her, straddling her small body. He put his cock to the furrow of her behind. “Noooooo! I can’t take any more that way!” Katie screamed. Her scream was so loud it made my ears hurt. Sleepily my eyes closed, then opened. Was Nick really going to force himself up her ass? She’d already been violated there once tonight. No, he was not. I watched, groggily, as Nick rolled Katie on her back. She kicked up her legs. Her knees bumped his testicles. He squirted cold, wet cream into the warm place between her legs. She’d already done herself there, but not as thoroughly as Nick now did her. When she was piled high with cream, almost as if she sported a cock, there was so much of it piled between her legs, Nick bent and kissed her. His eyes flamed with passion. Real passion, I thought. Not just lust, as Rob seemed to show Had Nick fallen in love with Katie in the few hours I’d been gone? I did not know. She was only 12. He was a grown man. Still, whatever his eyes showed, it seemed better, I thought, than what Rob’s eyes had offered, I thought, summing up the evening. I was half in and half out of sleep now. Rob, it seemed to me, was only waiting for one more opportunity to spend. Even Miss Wood had shown more real passion for me than Rob had. But one had to experience things like this to know them truly. I could have sworn, before the evening, that he truly loved me, and was only waiting to rid himself of his wife to have me forever. Something about Jane’s teasing got to me more deeply than I’d imagined it had. Speaking to me in the bath, after we’d peed in her bed, before we went to Miss Wood’s, I wasn’t sure if Jane was serious. About bondage. And discipline. Real bondage and discipline. I knew I wasn’t. I’d simply been passionate, confused aroused. Yet, a month later, shopping for my mom at the grocery, I bumped into Miss Wood. She seemed happy to see me. I wondered if I’d feel embarrassed, talking to her in the grocery. Yet except for a blush I managed it okay. She asked me how I was doing. I told her I would be on Christmas break soon. She asked if I had a boyfriend to enjoy Christmas with. “Yes,” I lied. I had several guys who liked me. Guys were plentiful, for a girl like myself. But none of them were special. And I had Larissa, of course, my girlfriend. And Katie, who called me once or twice, to ask about Nick. I wasn’t sure if she was seeing Nick regularly or not. She lived far from my house. But Nick, of course, being a man, could drive wherever he wished. Perhaps he visited her, at her house. I didn’t know. Sometimes I dreamt of her. She reminded me so much of Amber, who’d I’d ‘done time’ with, in the cave, as Larissa and I referred to our experience there now. Once I dreamed that Katie and I went to Candyland together, and made all the candy behave. A silly dream. “The week after Christmas I am flying to California,” Miss Wood told me. “I have a small cabin there, out in the desert. I have chickens, a pig, a horse.” “A horse?!” I asked. My heart jumped. I loved horses, though I’d never gotten much of a chance to ride any, except once or twice at the fair. “Yes,” Miss Wood said. “I had planned to bring a friend but... she isn’t able to cum,” Miss Wood said. She bit her lower lip. She seemed to say the word ‘cum’, deliberately, as if to imply that the friend might have come along, but backed out, at the last minute, due to some kind of mental reservation. She looked into my eyes wonderingly. I found myself gazing back, with equal curiosity. A kind of excitement passed between us, unspoken. I knew if I accompanied her there would be more riding than that what one does on a horse. She was honest about that. She didn’t say anything, but I could see it in her eyes. I said nothing, only gazed up at her. “Of course, you are only 13,” Miss Wood said. I nodded again. I was about to turn away, to decline her, when I remembered how she’d indulged me, even as she scolded me, at her house. I had felt quite special that evening, with my hair done up in pretty pigtails, forced to draw cocks on her blackboard. “I-- I might be able to cum,” I told her. I tried to give the word ‘cum’ the same inflexion she had. “Oh, that would be wonderful,” Miss Wood said. “It would just be you and me, of course. After you’ve had a chance to enjoy Christmas with your boyfriend.” “Yes,” I nodded. “Let me give you my number,” Miss Wood said. She drew a scented slip of paper from her purse. She wrote on it. She handed it to me. I looked at it. Her phone number was written upon it and, above her number, the words, ‘Miss Wood.’ I knew it wasn’t her real name. “Raquella,” Miss Wood said. I looked up at her again. That wasn’t my real name, of course, but she didn’t ask me for my real name. “You are special to me. Really, you are. I shall hold the seat just for you, whether you are able to make it or not. Right up to the last minute. Then, if you can’t...” she paused. “cum, I shall go alone. I do not mind being alone.” “I’ll try,” I told her. “No one must know where we’re going,” Miss Wood said. “But you will return safely, of course. You needn’t worry about that.” “It’s possible I could--” I said, thinking. “Only if you wish to,” Miss Wood said. My mom got a new boyfriend for Christmas. They met in the bowling alley. I didn’t like him much; he was overweight. But mom liked the attention he gave her. I decided to slip away for a week and accompany ‘Miss Wood’ on her trip. I knew it would be unusual, and somehow that intrigued me, even against my better judgement. There was something magnetic about her. Something I seemed to have been looking for, without even knowing it. Of course, it would have been more fun to be with a man for a week, but a man hadn’t bumped into me and offered me what she was offering. A week of... something. I wasn’t sure what. Just that I’d get plenty of ‘riding’ in, hopefully on her horse. The thought of abandoning my mother for a week and going off into the unknown with Miss Wood sent chills down my spine. And it revolted me a little, too, for it would just be the two of us. Myself and another woman. And a servant. Miss Wood had mentioned something about a servant, when I called her on the phone. But it had been clear from our conversation that the week would focus on me, and the servant wouldn’t be important. I guessed it wasn’t a man or, if it was a man, it wasn’t a man I’d be interested in. It would just be myself, and Miss Wood. And her horse. I managed to make the flight. I’d let my mom worry for a week. I left her a note, saying only I’d be back. Miss Wood gave me a kiss when we met at the airport. It was an honest kiss, right on my lips. “I like your tan!” she told me. “I went to a tanning salon for the last week, like you suggested,” I told her. “Very well. You will look even more special in the nude, then,” Miss Wood replied. She took my hand. I looked around to see if anyone in the terminal had heard her comment. Apparently, they had not. My hips wiggled nervously as she led me ticket agent and then on down the speedway to our plane. We flew on United to California. When we arrived, Miss Wood rented a car. It was a convertiable. I liked it. I had not ridden in a convertible before. Miss Wood put the top down. Despite there just being the two of us, she continued to insist that I call her ‘Miss Wood.’ I didn’t mind. I was Raquella. We drove out into the countryside, through dry hills, along California’s freeways until, at last, we turned onto a smaller road. Miss Wood pulled off to the side of the road and looked at me. She turned off the car’s engine. “Raquella, I would like for you to take off your top,” Miss Wood said to me. I felt myself jump in my seat. I stared at her. A bird circled overhead and let out a screech. In the distance, cows grazed in a field. “Why?” I asked. I tugged at the top button of my blouse. Yet I didn’t open it. Not yet. “It is unlikely we will see another car, from here on,” Miss Wood said to me. “You are coming from a cold climate. New York is very cold this time of year, as you know. I’d like you to feel the warmth of the California sun on your bare bosoms as we drive along. It is not far to my cabin from here. You will not be exposed long enough to the sun to burn. Perhaps to tan just a little, on your breasts, but not much, because I prefer a girl to have white breasts, as you do. But take off your top, and your bra. I want you bare to your hips. I would insist that you be completely nude, but sometimes the Highway Patrol does come back here, though not as far back as I live, thankfully. If you are totally naked, and we are seen, there might be too many questions, especially from a policeman. But a topless girl, in California, that can be explained away. Expecially in a car were there are only two women. Take off your blouse and bra.” “What-- what shall I do with them?” I asked. “I’m going to get something out of my luggage,” she told me. “Give me your blouse and bra when you’ve removed them. I’m going to put them back here, in my suitcase, in the trunk.” “But what if the Highway Patrol--?” I began. “Like I said, dear, that can be explained,” Miss Wood answered. She opened her car door and got out. Reluctantly I unbuttoned my blouse. I pulled it off. The hot sun struck my shoulders, the flatness of my belly. “Can’t I at least keep my bra on?” I asked. “No,” Miss Wood answered. I reached back behind myself as she popped the lid on the trunk. I unsnapped my bra. It was frilly, and white. I took it off. She came round to my side of the car and took my clothes from me. “Good,” she said. “I like your tan. It shows off your breasts, the way they are white against your tanned shoulders and your tanned belly.” She handed me something. It was a riding crop. “Lay it across your lap,” Miss Wood said. “We’ll be using it presently, when we arrive at the house.” “On the horse?” I asked, taking the leather stick from her. My hands trembled as I took it. “No,” Miss Wood answered. “My horse is too valuable to be hit with a riding crop.” “Then--” I said. “Put it in your lap, dear,” Miss Wood insisted. I obeyed. She put my blouse and bra in her suitcase in the trunk and slammed shut the trunk’s lid. She got back in the car. She stared the engine. We drove off. We did not meet the Highway Patrol during the rest of our journey. We drove under an afternoon sun, its rays hot on my skin, but not excessively so, making the whiteness of my breasts stand out sharply, my nipples stiff. The jellied mounds of my tits bounced exceedingly when Miss Wood turned off the secondary road onto one paved only with gravel. She looked over and me and smirked at the jostling of my bare tits. She was wearing women’s business attire, complete with a jacket, blouse, and bra. Her breasts jiggled in her bra cups but they didn’t bounce all around like my nude ones did. I flushed. “You blush very nicely,” she said to me. “Thank you,” I replied. I put a palm on my bare belly. It felt warm. Thankfully we passed between a grove of trees and fell into shade. I fingered my navel. I couldn’t imagine what would happen to me. One thing was for sure, though. I wouldn’t risk getting pregant. There would be no men here, just she and I, for the entire week. Plus a horse and a servant. And the servant, I guessed, wasn’t a man. “Your servant--?” I asked, looking across at Miss Wood. “You will not be my servant,” Miss Wood, misunderstanding, replied. “You will be my slave. But I will be your mistress. A love slave isn’t like a black African slave. It is the mistress who has the most work, in a relationship like we will have for the week.” “I-- I meant your actual servant,” I said. We passed again into sunlight. “Oh. She is a Mexican woman,” Miss Wood said. “She speaks very little English, don’t worry. She will not divulge what she sees.” “I see,” I said, gulping. I looked down at the riding crop across my lap. I felt like reaching over and hitting her with it, but I feared she might crash our car. That, at least, was the excuse I gave myself, at the time. At her insistance, I wasn’t wearing a seatbelt. About 15 minutes later we turned from the gravel road onto a gravel drive. We drove through more trees. We pulled up before a small, wooden cabin. It looked weathered and old. Chickens scattered before us. “You’ll find it’s spartan, but sufficient for our purposes,” Miss Wood told me. She stopped the car. She got out. I hesistated, sitting in her car. She walked around to my side and opened my car door. She took my arm. She pulled on it. I stumbled out of her car, clutching, ridiculously, at the riding crop she’d given me. Just then the door to the cabin swung open and a Mexican woman stepped out. She was middle-aged. She wore a maid’s cap on her head, and a white maid’s apron. “Margarit,” Miss Wood smiled to her. “This is Bambi. Bambi, meet Margarit.” The Mexican woman nodded to me. She seemed to take it in stride that I was topless, without a blouse or a bra. If she noticed the riding crop in my hand, she did not remark upon it. She simply bowed, slightly, nodding her head. Then she turned and began rounding up the chickens and throwing them grain from a pouch in the front of her apron. “Here, chickeee, chickeee, chickeee,” Margarit called to the chickens. Since she was tossing them grain, they didn’t need much encouragement to heed her calls. Miss Wood took me by my arm and escorted me into her cabin. It was shady indoors, under the roof of the cabin. Miss Wood showed me around. There was a single bed. It had iron bars for its headboard and its footboard. There was a small bathroom. It had a sink, a bidet made of porcelian, and an old metal washtub. There was only a tap, to draw water from. There were no facilities for a shower or a regular bath, in a tub. There was a small stove, a sink, a few cupboards for storing food. Out back, on an open air porch, with the roof projecting back over it to give it shade, was what Miss Wood called “my parlor.” It had a simple wooden table and two chairs. The chairs were of wood but they matched neither each other nor the table. Beyond, in a field, a large horse ran free. “What do you think?” Miss Wood asked me. “It is... quite natural,” I offered. My voice quavered. “We will be getting to know each other quite well here,” Miss Wood said. “But mostly, you will be getting to know yourself, Bambi. For I will be dressed, almost always, as you see me now. That’s right. In a business suit. This is no lesbian retreat. I hope you were not looking for that?” “No,” I said, in a quavering voice. “In fact, I have not shown you downstairs.” My eyes widened. Downstairs? This was little more than a hut. “Yes,” Miss Wood nodded. “I’d have to pay a larger tax if all the facilities were visible. Downstairs, there is a proper bedroom for myself, and a full, complete bath. And washing facilities, for clothes. And a gourmet kitchen. You will not see those parts of the house. But I will attend to my own needs down there. While, at the same time, you are enjoying the spartan life, up here.” She laughed. “It was simple, my dear, building it. You simply dig a big hole, build what you want, and then cover it up again. The cabin was placed on top.” She ran a hand down my bare back. Her fingers played along my spine. “I should like to whip you, now,” Miss Wood said. She prised the riding crop from my fingers. “I want you to bend right over and put your elbows on the table. Take your pants down first. This is to be a bare-bottomed whipping.” She touched my back where my bra usually ran across it. “You have done a fine job, tanning yourself. I can see where your bra covered you, in the tanning booth. I trust you kept your panties on too, while you tanned?” I nodded. “Good. Then your bottom will be as white as your breasts are. And you did a perfect job, my dear, letting your bra leave just a trace of a line across your back. You will train very well as a slave, I believe, given how well you’ve carried out my instructions already.” She kissed my cheek. “The essence of a slave, you know, is to be able to carry out instructions to the letter. Please pull down your pants. Let me see how well you’ve kept your bottom white, while tanning your legs.” I was wearing jeans and knee high fringed leather cowboy boots. Somehow, I sensed she did not wish for me to sit down on a chair, and remove my boots, and take my jeans and panties all the way off. There seemed to be an urgency in her eyes. In the way she pressed on my back. I undid my pants belt, looking up at her. As soon as I had the belt undone, she pulled it out of my belt loops and off my pants. She dropped it on a chair next to the table. Then Miss Wood helped me with the buttons at the front of my jeans. When they’d been pulled open, she took hold of my pants round my hips. She shoved them down. It was quite unceremonious, like a parent stripping a child for her bath. Down they went, me pushing a little to get them down, for they were tight round my legs. She pushed most of all, shoving my jeans down until they circled my knees. “Very well. Bend over,” Miss Wood told me in a no-nonsense voice. “That’s it. We’re both girls. There’s no need to feel embarrassed at showing me what we both have,” she said, pushing on my back with a single finger now, as I bent slowly at the middle until my arms came to rest upon the wooden surface of the table. “You have brought a nice belt,” she said, glancing at the chair. “We will apply that to your seat also. Dip your back. Present your bottom, Raquella. Shove it up at me.” She turned. “Hello, Margarit. Of course you may watch, my dear. She will need someone to daub her eyes, when I’m finished. And perhaps a cup of water. No, no liquor beforehand. This is a mid-day spanking. We do not give liquor to girls when they are being spanked in the middle of the day. Only in the evening, and then only for the most severe tests.” Quivering with fright, Miss Wood’s palm pressing down on the small of my back, I was forced to offer up my bottom. I blinked. This was utterly crazy, I thought, gazing out at the field beyond, at the strong horse standing in the distance. It stopped. It sniffed the breeze. I heard the chickens out front, squabbling over the grain they’d been tossed. “She holds the position well, do you not think so?” Miss Wood asked Margarit. They both stood behind me, gazing at my upturned ass. “Yes, madam,” Margarit said. “She has a very fine bottom.” “So round and tight,” Miss Wood said. Nervously I wiggled my ass. “Oh, please,” I moaned. “Hit me and get it over with!” Miss Wood laughed. Margarit copied her, laughing with her. “My dear,” Miss Wood said. “It is the waiting for it that is almost more important than it itself is. Gaze out at the fields. The horse is a male. But there are no other males here. All your suffering will be unobserved, unappreciated, by any males, except the horse. See how he sniffs at the wind. Does he sense the presence of a young female? Oh, look! He is coming our way. Perhaps he wishes to mount you, hmmm?” I shivered with considerable fright then. For there was no railing, between us and the porch. His field where he galloped came right up to the back of the house. As I stood hunched over the table, watching the horse, he came trotting up to the porch. There was an eagerness to his gait. He put his nose in and sniffed within a foot of my bottom. I could feel air from his nostrils hit my tail end as he whinnied. “Margarit, please restrain him,” Miss Wood told our maid. “Yes, madam,” the maid replied. She walked behind me and over to the horse. He wore no bit, no bridle. Yet her touch upon his neck seemed to calm him. She was Mexican. She understood animals. She stroked the underside of his large, powerful jaws. “Tommorrow we will put you over a bale of hay and put a dildoe up your bottom,” Miss Wood told me. I did not know whether she was teasing or not. “And by week’s end you will have learned to wear a saddle. You will be a properly broken-in young mare, fit for pleasing men’s worst desires. Provided, of course,” she said, running a finger up between the cheeks of my seat, “You wish to serve such a man.” “Madam,” Margarit said, still restraining the horse. “There is a man, in Mexico, named Solon. He buys young American girls and uses them to entertain.” “Yes, I know,” Miss Wood said. “He runs a prison farm?” “Yes, ma’am. It is for American women. Some go there voluntarily. Others, are induced,” Margarit said. “I have heard of it,” Miss Wood said. She pressed the crop against the middle part of my bottom. I could feel its hardness indenting my seat. “Oh, no more!” I wailed. “What? I haven’t even struck you,” Miss Wood replied. “I know, but--” I began. My voice caught in my throat. How awful I felt, my bosoms scraping the table, my ass uplifted, feeling the stiff crop against my skin and knowing it must hurt me soon. Miss Wood put the crop between my legs. She slid it up between my thighs until it lodged in the slit of my sex. She rubbed it back and forth. “OH!” I gasped. “The crop is giving you pleasure?” Miss Wood asked. “A little,” I sighed. A wave of pleasure passed up through my tummy. “She is excited,” Margarit said. “See how her bare legs and her knees tremble. She likes showing her bottom this way, with her pants rudely pulled down.” “I know,” Miss Wood said. “Of course there must be punishment, for being such a bad girl. Did you know she rode all the way over here without her top on?” “Yes, I saw it. Showing her bare bosoms to all the world,” Margarit said. “So of course I yanked down her pants the minute we got here,” Miss Wood said. “A good idea, ma’am. Whoa, horse! She is not for you. Not today,” Margarit said to the stallion. My hips rolled. Miss Wood’s free hand returned to the summits of my back hemispheres and scouted between them. “Do not tighten yourself, Raquella,” Miss Wood instructed, as my bottomcheeks tensed against her finger. When I relaxed, she dipped her finger between them. She pressed a fingertip to my rosehole. “Yes,” she said. “I’ll force the dildoe up you right there. Out in the sunshine, where anyone passing by might see. Although,” she added quickly, “nobody should, back here. It is quite remote. That is why I’m free to spank you out on the porch. Scream to the hills, if you like. Only Margarit and I and the horse will hear you.” “Please do it, if you must,” I said. I waggled my bare ass at her. “Ah, she is showing it off now,” Miss Wood told Margarit. The horse neighed. “She is lewd, madam. Is that the word?” Margarit asked. “Yes,” Miss Wood said. She kept sawing the crop in my cunt, making me swoon, while at the same time fingering me deeply in my bottom crack. I rotated my bottom about as if I were a model, whose behind was the center of a fashion show. “She belongs on the prison farm. She is lewd,” Margarit said. “I couldn’t agree more,” Miss Wood replied. She pulled the crop from between my legs. She withdrew her other hand off my bottom. I heard a whistling. It was the crop being drawn back. I tensed. “Keep your posture, Raquella,” Miss Wood warned. Then there was another whistling, faster still than the first. Suddenly a hard, butt-wrenching smack, thin as a pencil but deep in its impression, connected with my pert derriere. “OoooWHOOOO!” I cried. The shock of it, after all that teasing and waiting, nearly sent me flying across the table. “She cannot even hold her posture, Madam,” Margarit said. “Yes, she must go to the prison farm. She is disobedient and totally untrained,” Miss Wood replied. “She will fetch a high price there,” Margarit said. “OOOOH! I don’t want to go to the prison farm!” I shouted. The distant hills seemed to reverberate with my cry. So much so that they laughed. Jane was laughing. My eyes popped open. “The prison farm?” Jane asked. “What dream have you been having, dear?” I lurched on the couch. I grabbed at it and almost fell off. Morning was streaming through the windows of Jane’s living room. Fortunately, the curtains were drawn, for I was completely nude. “Oh! I dreamed I met Miss Wood in the grocery, and I went to California, and I went to Candyland too, and I was going to be sold to a prison farm, in Mexico!” I blathered. Jane kissed my face. “You must go home now, dear,” she said. “I meant to take you last night but I fell asleep and, well, Katie wasn’t finished yet,” she said. She glanced behind her. I saw Katie lying on the living room floor. She looked well eaten. Tongue trails ran up her creamed thighs repeatedly, right to her dell. Her fleecy pubic hair had been completely licked clean of all the cream that had been squirted on it. Yet new cream was dribbling out of her now, cream from the insides of men. It came oozing out from between the lips of her pussy and grew in a slow pile between her legs on the carpet. Her face, except for her lips, was smeared with cream. Her mouth lay open, and I guessed she might be oozing cream there too, real men’s cream, from the depths of her throat. Her titties, sitting plumply on her chest, were covered with cream, save for their nippled tips, which had been licked. They stood up pinkly, like cherries topping ice cream cones. “Katie is finished now,” Jane assured me. Later, driving home in her car, I gazed sleepily out her side window. I saw horses. They were standing in a field. Eating grass. For a moment I imagined they were big cocks, feeding on the grass with their pee holes. And then I saw a woman step out from behind one of them. She had a riding crop in her hand. She hit one of the fine stallions on his rump. I clutched at my own. The big horse broke into a run. I watched it. As the horse galloped across the field I wished I could be on top of it, riding it. Even if the woman struck my own rump as we ran. THE END ----------------------- Dreamgirls! ----------------------- -Other stories: type http://www.dejanews.com/ into your browser’s “Location” window. Press your “return” key. Under “Quick Search”, type in: roller39@idt.net Press your “return” key. -Other providers: Usenet Newsgroup: alt.sex.stories.moderated or by e-mail: file.request@backdrop.com or via the Web: http://www.netusa.net/files/Authors/eli/www/erotica/assm/ -Free minicomics: send a stamped, self-addressed envelope 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. -END OF story 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> /