Message-ID: <7775eli$9804131038@qz.little-neck.ny.us> From: Andrew Roller Subject: apr 10 Wed to the Whip part 2 of 2 (NND) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Reply-To: roller666@earthlink.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: <352D5562.6148@earthlink.net> --------------------------------------------------------------- PROBLEMS? Please try viewing this with Netscape Navigator. --------------------------------------------------------------- _/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/ Andrew Roller Presents NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS in WED TO THE WHIP _/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/ Chapter Two She arrived at the party clad in a short dress that hung by spaghetti straps from her shoulders. It was black, with white-patterned flowers on it. It had a scoop neckline, showing the curves of her breasts, hiding the nipples. Due to the slimness of the dress’ spaghetti straps it was not possible to wear a bra with the dress. Kelly’s young, uptilted breasts bounced with her every step. The back of Kelly’s dress showed her bare back. Up the length of her back, stretched tightly across her bare skin, (where, again, it would have been impossible to wear a bra), was a laced network of strings. They served to hold together the two halves of her dress. Without them, the sides of her dress would simply fall away from each other and slip to the floor. Sheathed in this tight dress, accoutered in pearls, Kelly offered her hand to Jill and let the woman lead her into the room. Jill gripped her hand tightly. Kelly was visibly nervous and her apprehension imparted an extra wiggle to gait as she walked. Her tight waistline gave way to a trim, but attractively flaring pair of hips that wiggled with showy acknowledgement of their ultimate fate. Couples in the room smiled, nodded to her, received her with warm stares. The men in particular noted the quick, uncertain wiggle of her behind. It invited attention. As Kelly proceeded into the room with butterflies in her stomach, John, her husband, followed her with feigned composure. He too was nervous about what would be happening to his wife. Yet in his case it was mixed with raw male desire; he felt his crotch bulging as he walked into the room behind his wife and wondered if anyone noticed. Was his thing sticking out? It felt like it was. He knew his Brooks Brothers jacket flapped close to his groin, but did the cut of it actually cover him there? He didn’t think so. It was too late to look down now, to check. Beside him, more composed, taller than himself by several inches, walked William. The man jutted forth his chin, adorned with his black goatee, and had a satisfied look on his face. After all, it wasn’t his wife who would be pulled over the block this evening. His own wife would only be a helper to ‘the condemned,’ as he’d described Kelly in the car ride over to the hotel. John cleared his throat. He tried to smile at the people around him. It was a lavish hotel suite. It contained several rooms, plus a swimming pool. The pool had been drained and covered over with a thick, insulated tarp to serve the needs of this evening’s party. Down in the pool, waiting, was a trestle. It was a sturdy affair, made of solid wood, bolted into the floor of the pool. It had a leather crosspiece to which, for added comfort, a pillow had been bound. The hotel was discreet in such arrangements. Few who stayed in the suite and swam in the pool knew of its double use. But to those in the room this evening, the twin natures of the pool were no secret. They smiled at Kelly and she, bravely, smiled back. She knew why she had come and they did too. Her gloved hand trembled as Jill led her forward to the banquet table where, taking their leisure, not hurrying at all, they would enjoy a fine feast prior to retreating to the pool. The other men present nodded at John. They had met William before, so, by deduction, since they knew William and Jill would be bringing the new couple, they guessed John to be the husband. Like he they were dressed in Brooks Brothers suits. It was not the normal attire for men on the island, but then this was not a normal evening. The ladies present enjoyed seeing their men so conservatively dressed. It gave an extra sparkle to the affair, seeing men dressed like New York City bankers who were at the same time fighting an urge not to spend in their pants. Kelly felt ravishing in her pearls and her gloves and her seductive, sheathing dress. Even as she first stepped into the room, all nervous about what her husband had commited her to, she thought she could feel arrows of envy coming from the eyes of the women present. They were young, but she was younger. They were seductively dressed in expensive skirts and gowns, but she was the center of attention this evening, because of what would happen to her. She smiled, anxiously. She glanced at the assembled women. At the men. She felt the ultimate indifference of the former to her fate, and the excessive lust of the latter. She had not wanted to come. And yet, now that she was hear, passing through the crowd toward a fine banquet table, she felt a thrill at being so intently watched by them all. Her every quiver, her every nervous wiggle, was noted with intense eyes by those around her. They evaluated her hair, so neatly pinned up, and she knew they found it perfect in its arrangement. She felt their eyes scan her face and she knew, behind her blushing cheeks, that they saw a delicate model’s face, and wondered if she was a model they’d seen in a catalog or a fashion magazine. The very clothes they were wearing she might have worn first, in Paris, an unknown but very pretty American model. John had sworn she was just his wife, his young wife, but if an American model were to visit the islands and agree to taste its wilder aspects, would she want her identity known? Of course not, and so, Kelly knew, as they gazed at her, they wondered if she was a model, even though in fact she was just John’s wife. The women present took particular delight in the condition of their men. Each man had sworn to abstain from having any ejaculation whatsoever for four days. The women had wanted a week, the two sides had compromised on four days. Given the easy nature of the islands, the restraint on the part of the men was considerable. They were all handsome; at every turn a female beckoned, either native, or visiting from afar. A quick trip to the beach could procure for a man with the looks these men possessed a ready and willing partner. His wife or beloved might be out shopping, or, perhaps, claiming to be shopping while in fact dallying with another man. But he need not feel any jealousy here in the islands, if he was of good humor, for he could just as easily find himself between the sheets. Yet despite the freedom with which pleasure could be found, these men tonight had sworn themselves to forgo it. And, as far as any of them could tell, they had in fact forgone such delights. So as the women conversed, or gazed with pleased if envious eyes at Kelly, at the same time they noted the bearing of the men, and considered with quiet delight how each one of them was more than ready for the evening’s events. “Kelly, this is Svernha,” Jill said to the girl whom she was leading by the hand toward the banquet table. Kelly blanched; she gazed up into the eyes of a Japanese man who, with quiet confidence, stared down at her. He noted, as he looked, the gentle swell of her bosoms. She felt herself flush. He merely nodded in reply. He was calm; she felt her nervousness increase by tenfold. Jill drew her away, and as she moved (so quickly! so hurriedly!) away from the man, she knew his eyes were sizing up the rondeur of her bottom. For, as she’d already been told in the car, it was a Japanese man named Svernha, hired specially for the occasion, who after the banquet would impart to her bottom the whipping she’d come for. They seated themselves at the table. Men seated women; save for Jill, who, as Kelly’s chaperone for the evening, took care of seating her. All was decorous, composed. Kelly remembered the banquet room of the Titanic and, though there was only one table here, she felt rather like a doomed guest on that ship. For certainly her fanny was doomed. In the morning, she had been warned, she would be quite unable to sit on it as she was doing so freely and easily now. Two waiters appeared. The candles on the table were lit and the lights in the room were turned low. A salad was brought and served. Each guest was offered a selection of dressings to go with their salad. Kelly, nervously, chose the dressing she’d liked best as a child; Thousand Island. “Eat lightly, but partake of as much wine as you wish,” Jill, sitting beside Kelly, smiled. The girl nodded in reply. She knew why the wine was recommended. It would mystify her a little and make Svernha’s strokes easier to bear. She chose a red wine from the wine list. A casual conversation ensued. Kelly ate quietly, her head bowed. She listened to the other guests as they discussed all manner of things, none of them about what portended for her this evening. It was like any banquet, except everyone knew what must happen when the food was consumed. Occasionally Kelly looked up. When she did, she inevitably saw someone smiling at her. She tried smiling back; managed it, awkwardly. Then, contritely, she returned to her salad, nervously trying not to spill it down the front of her breasts. Her fingers shook; but she did not drop anything. She chewed slowly and quietly. “Kelly,” Jill said, interrupting the girl’s inward-looking thoughts. “You must choose who shall carve the bird.” Kelly looked up. The lights had been raised a little. It was time for the main course. Kelly glanced up at the increased glow of the overhead chandelier; wishing they hadn’t turned up the lights. It made her frightened face easier to see. It made her soft bosoms, quivering in her tight dress, all the more noticeable. She swallowed. For a moment Kelly couldn’t remember what Jill had said. It was only the salad she’d eaten so far! Was she to go now? Oh, not yet! She felt she would collapse if someone tried to make her get up just now. She was so nervous! “Kelly, you must choose a man to carve the bird,” Jill said again. “Choose your favorite. Anyone may be chosen. Anyone but Svernha.” Kelly put a hand to her throat. It was slim, swan-like. It had a blush to it from the sun, a color that rose in her tanned cheeks and made her look adorable. She opened her eyes wide and stared at everyone around her. “She’s deciding,” Jill told the others. In fact Kelly was thinking about the fate of her bottom, but she tried to listen to Jill and to do as she was told. Choose? Choose whom? Whomever she wished? Oh, she wished Svernha would not be so calm, sitting in Buddhist tranquility down at the foot of the table, and she wished, if she chose anything, that she might choose to see him dismissed. But that would not be polite, Kelly told herself. He was an honored guest. One could not just dismiss an honored guest. But he has been invited to---! Kelly’s mind shouted in reply. “Please choose somebody,” Jill told Kelly, intruding on her warring thoughts. Kelly gazed at the men. They were all so handsome! And so finely dressed, in their Brooks Brothers suits, here in the sparkling light of the chandelier. Whom to choose? To slice the bird? To show his bird! Kelly pointed. A young man blushed as she singled him out. He was perahps in his mid-20’s, half a decade older than Kelly but still quite young compared to some of the men present, whose ages ranged as high as 40. He was, unknown to Kelly, a young lawyer, newly signed with a top island firm, and yet now she was singling him out! He stood up. He had been briefed what to do, all the men had, if he should be so fortunate? to be picked by the girl who was the guest of honor this evening. He undid the buttons of his jacket. He glanced at Kelly, sitting humbly in the middle of the table. She had no special place at the table, as Svernha did, yet a single pointed finger from her could entirely change (had entirely changed!) the entire course of the young man’s evening. The lawyer removed his jacket. He felt his hands shaking a little. The older woman beside him recieved it into her hands and watched him with bright eyes. He had only just learned her name, this evening. Yet now she was helping him to disrobe! The others sat and watched. Their eyes were predatory as they watched the young lawyer remove layer after layer of his clothing. His vest, his tie, his cufflinks. His shirt. His undershirt. The woman beside him helped him with his belt. She drew it off and remarked with pleasure at the make of the leather. It had a buckle of pure silver. Fighting to remain calm, the lawyer pulled down his pants. The others smiled. He looked at Kelly. Then, quickly and hoping not to make a display of his newly liberated self, the lawyer shucked down his shorts. The man gulped as his penis shot to attention in front of him. There was a titter of laughter from the ladies. Even Kelly blushed and put her hand to her mouth. The men shared a hearty chuckle. The lawyer looked down at himself and saw that there was no hiding, no denying his excitement now. He was quite naked, from his head to his shoes, retaining only his socks and footwear now, with his underpants banding themselves around his knees. Whispering softly, the fingers of the woman who sat beside the lawyer ran down his thighs and pulled his underpants down to his feet. The lawyer stepped awkwardly out of his shorts. It was difficult to do, with his shoes and socks still on. His shoes, brightly polished, gleamed in the light from the chandelier. “May I sit back down now?” the lawyer asked Jill. “Why no, that would hide your fine erection from our view,” Jill answered. Her eyes gazed frankly at the lawyer’s cock. It was long, sturdy. A dollop of precum formed at its tip and glistened in the light spilling down from the chandelier. A soft hand stroked the lawyer’s thigh. It savored his muscled flesh. It whispered higher, snuck between his legs, and tested the feel of his balls. “Oh. You’re quite full,” the woman sitting calmly beside the lawyer said. He did not at the moment remember her name, as he stood with a confused look on his face before the gathered banqueters. But he did remember that she had a fine pair of breasts, and as her slender fingers cupped and held the wide girth of his balls he also remarked to himself how delicious it would be if she suddenly, rudely, squeezed him, and refused to let go of his tender equipment. He felt his cock swell and present itself even more lewdly to the assembled faces. He glanced again at Kelly. “This is your fault,” the lawyer heard himself say to her, quietly, without speaking, hoping to assure her of her guilt with only his eyes. “It is your fault that I, a striving young lawyer, fresh out of law school, hoping to make a dignified impression on the world, am standing here with my cock hanging out.” The lawyer swallowed hard. He realized as he stood there, figeting, that the size and width of his penis was being evaluated by everyone, even by Kelly herself. He was new to the island. He had come to the party on a lark, invited by the woman beside him. She had warned him of what might happen, but he had never dreamed the girl selected for punishment would choose him to carve the turkey! Yet now, here he was, chosen, picked out over all the other males, and with his cock on display like some captured animal. The older woman seated beside the lawyer’s standing figure tapped his leg. He turned. She presented him with a knife. It was long. It glinted with a sharp metallic glow. He held it carefully in his hands and realized how close its edge was to his naked penis. “Cut the bird,” the older woman said to the lawyer. The young man nodded. One of the waiters took the top off of the bird, set in the center of the table. As the silver lid was removed from off the bird the lawyer leaned over the table. He lifted the knife that he’d been given. As his right hand tried to hold the knife steady, he noticed with trepidation how close to the bird his stiff penis extended. He drew back his hips a little. Then, awkwardly, he sliced the long knife down through the freshly cooked turkey. They ate. The lawyer was forced to eat in the nude. His ass rubbed against the velvet seat of his chair. Whenever more turkey was needed it was his task to stand up and slice it. He was admired freely, the man sitting beside him, opposite the woman, even leaned close and whispered how trim his ass looked. The lawyer tried not to blush, his cock all exposed, his buns easily seen, but it was hard. He ate self-consciously. The woman beside him insisted on slipping a napkin down between his legs, so that, she said, his dick would not drip precum onto the velvet chair. “You need a bib,” the woman smiled at him, feeling his penis as she slid the napkin under his dick. “Thanks,” the lawyer said. In fact his cock was so long that it hung off the end of the chair, dripping on the carpet, but the woman put the napkin on his chair anyway. Dinner proceeded, was finished. Dessert was served. A chocolate cake, with a choice of ice cream placed on top, offered by the two waiters. Kelly was halfway through her cake, enjoying the scoop of strawberry ice cream on top of it, when Jill tapped her arm. “Come, that’s enough,” Jill said to Kelly. “We must go now.” “Now?” Kelly said. She looked up from her plate. Her voice was plaintive. “Now,” Jill said firmly. She pushed the girl’s plate away from her. “Sweets aren’t good for you, anyway,” Jill smiled at Kelly. The woman rose. She clasped one of Kelly’s gloved hands and urged her to rise. Wildly Kelly looked first at her husband, who stared consciously at his plate, then at William, who only grinned back at her lasciviously. Lastly her eyes fell on the lawyer who, in his nudity, was unable even to regain control of his shorts, let alone to save her. “Oh, please!” Kelly blurted. Firmly Jill pulled her to her feet. Kelly didn’t resist, save for her cry. Yet she trembled, all over, and Jill had to clasp the girl’s waist in order to guide her out away from her chair. Together they walked from the room. At the last moment, her eyes like those of a deer caught and framed in headlights, Kelly turned and gaped back at those sitting at the table. Her gaze fell upon Svernha, sitting at the foot of the table, and he arched a quiet eyebrow in acknowledgement. “Oh!” Kelly moaned, but Jill hurried her through the door leading into the swimming pool room, and the door shut quickly behind them. Beyond the room where the swimming pool lay, quiet under its layer of insulation, was a room where those wishing to swim in the pool might undress. It was small. It contained several lockers and a wooden bench. Jill led her there and helped Kelly out of her clothes. She put them, along with Kelly’s pearls, into one of the lockers. “When will I get them back?” Kelly asked. “After you’ve been whipped,” Jill said to the girl. Her voice was gentle, but firm. Kelly looked at her and felt tears well up in her eyes. “You have such a pretty dress,” Kelly said to Jill, feeling small and terribly awkward as she stood now in the nude before her friend. Jill picked up a piece of rubber that had been lying inconspicuously on the wooden bench. “Open,” Jill said to Kelly. The girl saw leather strings dangling from the wedge of rubber and mistook it for some kind of bikini bottom. She spread her legs. Jill laughed. “Your mouth, silly!” Jill said. Kelly’s eyes widened. She opened her lips while simultaneously drawing her thighs together. Jill popped in the bit. Kelly gagged as the wedge of leather was fed to her. It was wide, it made her cheeks bulge. She tasted a rubber taste on her tongue. Lifting the strings that dangled from it, Jill tied them behind Kelly’s head. The girl felt the woman’s dextrous fingers knotting the laces, and helped by reaching back and holding her long blonde hair pressed to her head, so that the laces wouldn’t become tangled in her hair. When the task was done, Kelly was firmly bitted, unable to say anything, and she could only look wonderously at Jill and ask with her eyes what must happen next. “Come,” Jill said. She took Kelly by the arm. The girl was completely bare, except for her earrings, her short, wrist-length gloves that she still wore on her hands, and her pumps on her (otherwise bare) feet. With a gentle tug Jill drew Kelly back out into the room where the swimming pool lay. Kelly saw the last of the guests descending the swimming pool’s ladder, at its deep end, down under the insulating tarp. It was a woman. She smiled up at Kelly as, fully clothed, the woman descended down under the tarp. Kelly blushed, tasting the bit in her mouth. She wished the woman could not see her this way. Jill took Kelly over to the ladder. “I’ll go down first. You follow,” Jill said to Kelly. The girl nodded. Jill stepped through the arched rails of the ladder on the pool deck and descended. Kelly, her mouth fettered and her clothes impossible to retreive, followed meekly. She flushed as she looked down at Jill, descending the ladder below her, and saw Jill’s eyes look up and straight between her legs. Kelly felt herself moisten in that private place and wished it was not so easily seen by Jill’s eyes. “You smell wonderful,” Jill said, when they stood down at the base of the ladder in the swimming pool. She pecked Kelly on the cheek and Kelly wondered if it was her perfume Jill commented upon, or the proximity to her cunt coming down the ladder. But Kelly had no time to speculate on it, for her eyes were already dazzled by the spectacle that greeted her. Down under the sound-proof covering of the tarp, the swimming pool was empty. The guests Kelly had met at the banquet sat fully clothed along two wooden benches. In between the two benches a trestle had been erected. There, waiting for Kelly, was a pillow, plump upon the trestle, with a padding of leather covering the trestle’s crosspiece. Svernha stood nearby, a whip in his hand. Shackles lay open at the base of each of the trestle’s four legs. Svernha bowed, slightly, to Kelly, and said something in Japanese. Electric lights set up in the swimming pool shone brightly upon the trestle. The rest of the room, including the guests, was in relative shadow. “She is naked. She is ready,” Jill said to the guests assembled in the pool. They nodded approvingly. They stared at Kelly with eager eyes. The lawyer, naked like Kelly, moved among the guests, serving liquor and canapes. The two waiters who had attended to them upstairs had been dismissed for the night, with large tips that bought their silence regarding the size of the lawyer’s penis. As for the pool, the waiters were ignorant of its dual nature. The trestle had been set up by the partiers themselves, several hours before. The waiters suspected an orgy, nothing more. As for the pool, they did not even know it was empty. The pool was heated when filled, and the tarp was often used to keep the water warm, so the heat would not needlessly escape. Naked as if for a visit to the doctor, Kelly was drawn by Jill into the center of the room. She stepped under the glare of the electric spotlights and shivered. She looked with bitted mouth and large, self-pitying eyes at the assembled guests. She gazed at her husband. Though having the courage this time to return her stare, he said nothing, and showed no emotion. Beside him sat William, larger and taller, and the two of them looked like two partners in crime to Kelly, the larger man leading on her husband in a game of vice. She felt suddenly like a horse, stripped naked and brought from the paddock, to run a race in which people would gamble on her flesh. In fact, she saw, they were quietly placing bets, writing on cards and handing them to the lawyer as he came around with their drinks. Kelly looked to Jill, fear written all over her face. “Yes, dear,” Jill said. “They are betting on how long it will take before you break down and cry. All girls do, you know, over the trestle. Not a one escapes that.” Jill lifted a finger and daubed a tear in Kelly’s eye. “That one doesn’t count,” Jill said. “You must break into honest bawling for the bets to be called.” Kelly sniffled. She could say nothing, only stare. She was led forward through the glare of the spotlights to the trestle. Jill patted the pillow. “Bend over,” Jill told Kelly. The girl stiffened. Suddenly she flinched as she heard a sharp crack behind her. The cheeks of her bottom tightened involuntarily, showing their roundness. There was laughter; Kelly realized Svernha had only struck the floor with his whip. “Bend,” Jill said again to the girl. “You must show off your bottom and there is an art to it, Kelly. Present it boldly, proudly. It is very pretty. You will not be made to bleed, not tonight. Svernha has promised. But you will be wealed, of course, so that you may have a trophy to show when everything’s finished.” Kelly was still standing erect, contemplating the trestle, when she felt a finger lightly tap her bottom. She almost jumped out of her skin, for instantly she knew, by the shortness of its fingernail and its rude blunt feel, that it was a man’s finger, not Jill’s. She turned. Svernha looked at her with slanted, wickedly interested eyes. “He wants to know how high you wear your bikini in back, on the beach, so that he might place your weal below it, so your suit will cover it,” Jill explained to Kelly. The girl wriggled against the touch of Svernha’s finger, reached back, grasped with frightened fingers his wrist, and slid his hand up a little. “There,” Kelly mumbled, through her gag. She pressed Svernha’s finger against the upper part of her bottom. He smiled, his finger indenting her flesh. He drew his hand away from hers. “Now you must bend over, Kelly,” Jill told the girl. She gripped Kelly by her neck and pushed down. Kelly felt like some kind of instrument in her grasp, being bent, manipulated. When Kelly was pressed down, her belly hard against the pillow, Jill moved in front of her and knelt and fastened her hands to the wide-spread legs of the trestle. In back of her, as she shivered, her naked bum exposed to all, Kelly felt Svernha get down. He squatted and clipped her ankles fast to the trestle’s feet. She was unable to move. She could lift her bottom slightly, that was all. She could raise, a little, her bitted face, but nothing more than that. She could pull at the bonds round her hands and feet all night, and they would remain implacably fixed to the trestle. Kelly felt tears spring to her eyes. The guests leaned forward. Some had in fact bet that she would cry instantly, upon being tied, but Kelly did not know that and, to their disappointment, she found a reserve of strength in her that caused her to feel a sudden blush of pride in herself and not to cry. She was, after all, very pretty. She was completely now, the center of everyone’s attention. Not a soul in the room was thinking of anything but her. Svernha sized up Kelly’s rear end. He passed his hand with extreme lightness and care over her seat, as if handling the most delicate china. Indeed, since Kelly’s bottom was untanned, in contrast to the rest of her skin, it did have the allure of something fine and utterly, untouchably perfect. The furrow parting her twin bottom cheeks showed its interior; an even paler pallor, marked by a single rosebud dimple where Kelly would eventually pass out the meal she’d eaten earlier in the evening. Svernha wedged a finger probingly between Kelly’s cheeks. He touched her hole. At the same time his other fingers dipped down under the curve of her bottom and felt the soft fruit of her sex. “You are quite exposed, my dear,” Jill remarked to the girl, standing in front of her. She passed a hand through Kelly’s artfully pinned-up blonde hair. “How deliciously tragic it would be if Svernha, in aiming for your seat, found instead your opening between. You pride yourself on your refusal to allow anything up your bottom. Yet, were Svernha’s whip to strike you there with sufficient force, the knotted tip would drive into your nether hole quite without any regard for your wishes.” “Oh!” Kelly gasped. But the bit in her mouth stifled her cry. Her bosoms under her trembled. She tried to get up and only managed to rattle the steel bonds that were holding her. Jill nodded to Svernha. “Make it difficult for her,” Jill told the man. “She is generous with herself but she is wilful too. Her bottom in particular seems to be some sort of hallowed part of herself, in her eyes. She needs help in learning its erotic potential. Caress her with the whip, as sternly as you please, so that, in punishing her, she may learn to open herself completely to life’s pleasures.” Jill patted Kelly on her head, as one might a dog, or a cat. “Is that not what you want, my dear?” Jill asked the bent-over girl. Then she laughed. “Well, it is what I want for you, whatever your wishes may be. Lash her hard, Svernha. When you go back to Japan you can boast to all your acquaintances about how you taught an American girl to feel the greatest respect for Asian ways. The ways of the whip.” “Yes,” Svernha, in his only utterance so far this evening, said, with a broad, but dignified smile. He patted Kelly’s bare bottom. “In Japan we feel our women are far better trained than you are here in America,” he added. “Yes,” Jill said. “Well, here’s one you can train, anyway,” Jill said. She stroked Kelly’s hair again. “Be good, my sweet. And don’t cry too soon. I’ve placed a bet on you, believing you to be very strong and brave. Don’t disappoint me.” Struggling over the block, quite frightened now, Kelly tried to rise. It was hopeless. It only showed off her bottom more fully, and made the guests laugh at its wigglings. She felt her bosoms hanging beneath her, trembling, and wondered if the whip, curling around her, would find one of her teats and strike it. That thought made her shiver intensely. It scared her more than even the thought of her bottom being scored by the whip though only she knew it, with the bit full in her mouth. The guests chuckled at the way her young, lovely breasts swung freely beneath her. Rearing herself in the spotlights, Kelly was not unmindful, despite her fear, of the alluring sight she presented. Her 19-year-old bottom, a young bride’s bottom, was ready for action. Her sex was openly displayed, its moist folds apparent between her legs. Her anus, which everyone in the room now knew was virgin, showed its inviting dimple within the wide-spread cheeks of her perfect seat. The men in the room were handsome suitors. Would they really let her be punished severely by the strange Japanese man? Kelly bit hard on the bit between her teeth and told herself that, no matter what happened, if she could just hang on a few minutes, a man would spring forward (perhaps several!) and save her from her fate. Then she would be a rescued princess, and the men would reward her with pleasures that would make her husband so jealous he’d want to die. Yes! And William too would be jealous, and would rush forward, eager to see that her bottom wasn’t given away to one of the other men, and they would battle over her, and the punishment intended for her would instead be inflicted on themselves, as they struggled to see who would win her. Even her own husband would feel compelled to enter, and she would laugh at the men fighting each other to see who could have her. SWICK! Kelly’s eyes opened wide and her breath drew in sharply. The whip! It burned across her seat, leaving a flaming line of heat in its wake. Kelly arched up, trying to rise. Her tits shook. She squeezed her bum. She felt it tighten, then open again as her muscles, after a moment, relaxed. In response she clenched her ass again, and she held it as long as she could, finally showing anew her sweet dimpled anus, her cheeks tiring. SWWWWICK! A double salute assailed Kelly’s bottom. Her cheeks worked themselves in and out in clenching and unclenching. She lifted her head, gasped, her eyes poppingly-wide. Oh, it hurt! It felt like twin bees had landed on her bottom. They left stingers behind, impaling her soft flesh in twin dots of pain. SWAAAK! “YeeehOOOOO!” Kelly blurted behind her bit. It drowned her shrill cry. She arched hard in an upward motion, simultaneously working her hips, striving to throw off the pain by squeezing her naked asscheeks together. Her thighs showed slim and taut, poised in a wide vee. There was laughter. A woman watching the spectacle called to Svernha to place the thong tip “where she might remember it for a very long time.” Kelly felt her pinned-up hair loosen atop her head. Several strands spilled down round her eyes. She squeezed hard on the bit between her teeth. She regretted now completely having let herself in for this, but how could she relay her wishes to the others? She blushed as she heard them laughing at her. There were no men running out to rescue her, despite how pretty she looked. Oh, how long must she wait? she asked herself. How long must she endure this before her husband, at least, would rise up and insist she be freed, that she suffer no more? The lights on Kelly’s bottom showed its state to everyone present. Two long, bright red lines crossed her cheeks. In additon to that there were three pin-point sized red spots. Otherwise her cheeks were milk white, flawless. They ground together, tensing and flexing in the warm air of the drained swimming pool. When Kelly’s strength failed her the soft cheeks of her ass lay open like a split-apart peach. She showed all she had to give, the slit of her cunt on offer, the twinkling aperature of her anus. There was nothing hidden. She was a delicate, pretty girl, with lean strong thighs. She felt like a pony, being whipped down a long arduous track to a distant finish. Hoping to inspire the gentlemen to save her, Kelly stuck out her bottom. Bravely she displayed its fine-skinned cheeks and its treasure-like hole, and the lovely fig of her sex which hung purselike beneath it. Even as she squeezed it and regretted its burning condition, she offered it to the eyes of the men, hoping against hope that they would find her beauty irresistible. The men were deeply moved, but only to unzip themselves. Kelly heard their zippers, waited desperately for the sound of their forward-rushing feet, and instead heard only coarse laughter. SWAAAAAACK! “GEE-heeeee!” Kelly wailed. The bit forcibly wedged in her mouth, that made her cheeks wide and bloated, stifled her cry. But it could not constrain her bottom. It rotated lasciviously in response to the whip, showing all its aspects, both tight-cheeked and yawning wide in despiar, as it strove to shake off the pain so deeply imparted to it. Kelly felt like she was on fire! She tried hard, pressing her toes to the floor, to shove herself foward, but only succeeded in making a display of her bottom. She heard the women laugh, along with the men, and blushed. It was a deeper blush than any she’d suffered before and Jill darted forward and lifted her chin and looked into her teary eyes to make sure she was okay. She placed a finger beneath Kelly’s nose. She felt her outflow of breath and waited and watched as Kelly breathed in again. “She’s fine,” Jill announced, and let go of Kelly’s chin as if releasing the head of a rag doll. Kelly’s head flopped down. At once the whip connected again with her bottom. She jerked, reared. She heard Jill laugh and say, “My, what a bucking bronco you’d make!” “Don’t be utterly insensitive to her plight,” a woman said to Jill. Kelly shoved her hips in undulating motions toward the tarp overhead, the illuminated cheeks of her ass showing their marks, as the woman rose, and walked out to where Jill stood. Kelly, her face gaping at the floor, heard Jill laugh. “Yes,” Jill said. SWAAAAAAAK! The whip struck again. Kelly shrieked and pulled hard on her bonds. Her bottom offered itself, in frantic seat-twisting motions, to the laughing eyes of the crowd. When Kelly’s bucking hips had subsided, she felt wet tears on her face. Had she been crying? She didn’t know, her emotions were such a swirl. Her every scream went unheard. Her every attempt to escape only showed off more fully that one part of herself that she now wished desperately she’d never revealed. She thought of her neat, white school-girl like panties in the locker upstars. She remembered her dress, wistfully, and just thinking of it made her burst into tears. Yes, she realized, the last stroke of the whip, so cruelly delivered down under her bottom, where the softest part of her seat was, had brought a torrent of tears to her eyes. She heard movement behind her. ‘OH, NO MORE’ Kelly shouted, but the bit made her words inaudible. She felt a jab. It insinuated itself along her wet cunny lips and then jabbed again. “I never knew a feather could be so randy,” Jill laughed. “NOOOOO!” Kelly shrieked. But her words went unheard. To Kelly’s great mortification, Jill began to attack her ripe, swollen sex with an ostrich feather. Its swirling, intruding tip made Kelly’s sex wetten even more fully than it already was. She felt eyes on her bottom, staring, watching with fascination as Kelly was made to become aroused. She was still bound over the trestle, but now she was brought to a high state of pleasure by the tickling feather. Try as she might, Kelly couldn’t avoid it. Patiently Jill worked it over her cunt until it was as enflamed as the seat of her whip-scorched bottom. “And now, Kelly,” Jill said with obvious satisfaction. “Now I’m going to pop your cherry.” “NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Kelly howled in a long, bit-drowned wail. Jill laughed. Everyone in the room laughed. Kelly felt the feather, wet from her own sex, lifted and placed between the cheeks of her bottom. It tickled. Kelly squeezed her cheeks but the feather, already inserted between them, was merely trapped by her squeezing flesh. As soon as Kelly relaxed her fanny the feather darted against her tight little hole. Kelly felt the moistness of its tip. It circled her crinkled, cherry opening. Kelly squeezed again. For long minutes Jill dueled with her, teasing her asshole whenever Kelly released her young bottom cheeks enough for the feather not to be caught between them. At last, Jill clapped a hand to Kelly’s cheeks, and thumbed them frankly apart. Kelly squeezed. Jill resisted. With her free hand she passed a finger quickly under Kelly’s sex, moistening it, and then stuck it within the aperature of Kelly’s back hole. “YOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Kelly shrilled. The finger poked deeper. Kelly squeezed her bottom as hard as she could. SLAP! Jill’s hand slapped against Kelly’s round, blushing cheeks. “Don’t, break off my finger, Kelly,” Jill scolded. Slowly, deliberately, the woman then pushed deeper. Kelly fought her all the way, squeezing her ass cheeks tightly, frankly trying to do just what the woman had warned her not to. Jill withdrew her digit. She turned to Svernha. “She is too resistant,” Jill said to Svernha. “Give her a dozen more strokes. And make sure at least one of them bites her right on her anus. If she won’t accept my soft, probing finger, maybe a bee sting will please her instead!” 30 ----------------------- Dreamgirls! ----------------------- -Back issues (and stories): type http://www.dejanews.com/ into your browser’s “Location” window. Press your “return” key. Click on “Power Search” in the middle of the screen. Next, Type in: roller666@earthlink.net in the box that appears. Click on “find” (the button to the right of the box). -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/ -When visiting Barnes and Noble, ask for: Jock Sturges’ Radiant Identities and David Hamilton’s The Age of Innocence. Support art! - 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 1998 and a trademark of Andrew Roller. -END OF story EMISSION Need a book? http://www.amazon.com -- +--------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `------------+ | story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us | story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us |