Message-ID: <6989eli$9801041542@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: Andrew Roller Subject: jan 4 Summer of Sin part 4 of 4 (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: <34AEA6F3.4F7F@idt.net> --------------------------------------------------------------- PROBLEMS? Please try viewing this with Netscape Navigator. --------------------------------------------------------------- _/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/ Andrew Roller Presents NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS in SUMMER OF SIN _/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/ Chapter Four “Well, you have been opened fore and aft, and fed upon by some of the glitterati of Paris,” Rebecca laughed to me the next morning. “What shall we do for an encore?” I hugged my pillow. I lay in my bed, defensively. We were home again. Rebecca was up early, decked out in her broadbrimmed hat and a bikini. She was lithe, graceful. She tossed back her brown hair in a carefree way. She gazed down at me. She put her hands on her hips. She was intent on catching the morning rays of the sun out by her pool. “I don’t want to have an encore,” I said testily. I knew she wished for me to join her. But I was still sore from the night before. I put my thumb in my mouth. I sucked upon it and closed my eyes. “Very well,” Rebecca said. I heard her heels click upon the floor. She turned, left. I drifted gratefully back into sleep. That afternoon we went shopping downtown. A collection had been made at the party the night before, in appreciation of our boldness. I enjoyed spending the money. “Does this make us--” I asked Rebecca, pausing over the word in French, not sure how to pronounce it. “No, darling,” Rebecca assured me. “We are adventurous, but we are not that,” she said. “I hoped we were not,” I said, gulping. We were in a hattery. I put a broadbrimmed straw hat upon my head. It was similar to the one Rebecca owned. She adjusted it for me. She tied the ribboned chin strap under my chin. “You look adorable,” Rebecca said. A young man put some boxes down in a corner of the store, near to where we were standing. We both turned and looked at him. He looked at us. I judged him to be about 19. He smiled. I found his figure extraordinary and couldn’t help but smile back. He had broad shoulders, long legs. His hips were trim. There was a bulge in the front of his tight jeans. He wore a plaid shirt but it was undone down the front, displaying a muscled chest and a flat belly. He had hair growing up his belly and over his chest. “Oh, sorry,” the man said. He put his fingers to his shirt and began buttoning it. “It’s hot out today,” he said. The proprietess of the store circled back between the hats to where we were standing. I blushed, seeing her, for I knew my eyes betrayed an admiration for her stockboy. She glanced at me, my hat, which was still her hat, for I had not bought it yet. She looked at her boy. She was Rebecca’s age. I guessed the young man meant more to her than just someone who labored over her boxes. “I hope he is not bothering you?” the woman asked. “Oh, no,” Rebecca replied. I remained silent. I lowered my face, letting the hat’s brim cover my eyes. From under it I peered at the boy’s crotch, surreptitiously. How could he be so big there? Was it just the tightness of the pants? Or had he become excited, seeing me in this hat? I felt guilty looking at his thing but I couldn’t help myself. “We shall take the hat,” Rebecca said. “Yes, of course,” the proprietess answered. “She looks darling in it.” “Thank you,” I whispered from under my hat, still keeping my eyes lowered, looking at the man’s crotch. “Anything else?” the proprietess asked. “No. The hat will be fine,” Rebecca said. “It is how much?” She began to open her purse. “You needn’t open that,” the proprietess said. Her hand darted out and caught at the top of Rebecca’s handbag. Gently she closed it. Her hand remained atop it, lingering, an unspoken question in the air. “Oh, but I must pay you,” Rebecca said, and tried to open her purse again. The proprietesses’ fingers kept it shut. “There are any number of ways to pay for the necessities of life,” the proprietess said. “And money is, I think, the most boring of all.” “Oh!” Rebecca said, gasping a little. The proprietess forced her purse closed. She did not try to open it again. “I live on Bourbon Street,” the proprietess said. “Number 25. I should be honored if she would wear the hat to tea. Three o’clock, perhaps? Tommorrow?” She glanced at the boy. “Johnnie, do you have classes tommorrow?” “Only in the morning,” Johnnie said. “Good,” the propreitess said. “You will report to my home after your classes. Call Maria and have her tend the store.” “What do you think?” Rebecca asked. She turned to me. I lifted my eyes. I wondered if I was still blushing. My eyes met the young man’s and I smiled. “I want to see all the different things in Paris,” I said coyly. My eyes dropped to the man’s crotch and then lifted quickly, guiltily, and looked into the face of the proprietess. She smiled. “I shall expect you both at three then,” the proprietess said. “My name is Helene. And yours?” she asked, turning her face to Rebecca. “Rebecca,” my aunt replied. “And this is Chloe.” “Ah, a lovely name,” Helene said. “Johnnie, do not put the boxes there. Put them up front, by the register,” Helene said, turning to the stockboy. He nodded. He bent over and I watched his buttocks tense in his jeans. He had a broad back and it spread over the boxes. His muscled arms scooped them up. He turned, grinned at myself and Rebecca, and then sauntered through the racks of hats up to the front of the store. “Is he your boyfriend?” Rebecca asked Helene. “He is quite gorgeous.” Helene nodded. “Yes, I just met him,” she said. “He is from the Czech Republic. I invited him to claim my address as his own so he could attend the University. At domestic rates,” she said. “Oh,” Rebecca said. “That was kind of you.” “Yes,” Helene said. “Your friend. She is an American?” “Yes,” Rebecca said. “She is staying with me just for the summer.” “She looks lovely in her new hat,” Helene said. “Thank you again for letting us have it,” Rebecca said. “She was made for it,” Helene said. “Tomorrow, then?” she asked, for the store’s bell rang at the front door, announcing the entry of a customer. “Yes, of course,” Rebecca said. We continued our shopping. I enjoyed my hat. It kept the sun off my face. I bought a ring with a diamond at another store. We ate a late lunch and then went home. That night we went dancing. We did not stay out late. When we came home we both went gratefully to bed. I was glad to be sleeping by myself. Yet as I drifted off I wondered about tomorrow’s tea. I felt a strange excitement. I guessed I might fall asleep tomorrow evening somewhere else, perhaps at 25 Bourbon Street. He met us at the door. Rebecca and I were outfitted in short dresses. My own fitted me like a corset. It hugged my middle. It was elaborately tied in back. Bra cups covered the lower curves of my breasts, just barely containing my nipples. The jellied mounds of my breasts bounced in the cups, their tops bared. The white flesh of my mounds caught Johnnie’s eyes as he opened Helene’s front door. I blushed. He smiled. My shoulders were nude, as was my back, down to where the dress hugged me with corset-like firmness. I was slipped as if into a vise, bare-legged, bare-shouldered, with my dress crossing behind the small of my back and covering my flat belly. Twin spaghetti straps tied behind my neck kept the cups over my breasts from falling away. A very short skirt, flaring out from the bodice of my dress, just managed to cover my bottom. I wore no stockings. But I did wear my new ring that I’d bought, plus a pair of high-heels. Around my ankles, the same color as my black dress, were two leather ankle straps. On my head was my straw broad-brimmed hat. Rebecca was dressed like me. She wore her straw hat. The sun glared down on us, excusing our skimpy attire. It was summer. We could dress salaciously without making a scene. Johnnie, for his part, was nude, save for a pair of Speedoes. I guessed he must have been swimming or, since his hair was dry, about to. I wondered at this, for were we not to have tea? I hoped he would join us. Johnnie grinned. He invited us inside. We stepped into a parlor. It had ornate decorations. Johnnie closed the front door behind us. As soon as he had, he put his thumbs in his swimsuit. He yanked it down off his hips, exposing his cock. He stepped out of it. He hung it on a peg on the wall. “I have to wear that to answer the door,” Johnnie said to us. We blushed. We gazed at his thing. It was huge. It quavered stiffly on the air, in time to his pulse. “I hope you don’t mind,” Johnnie said, glancing from us down to his cock. “It’s not my idea, going nude. Helene insists. ‘Mistress’ actually, is what I call her, in her home. She takes care of me and I perform various... services,” Johnnie said. He looked at us. He offered his brawny arm to Rebecca. “May I escort you to tea?” he asked. “I am no slouch in good-mannered gallantry, even if I am required to walk around without any clothes on.” “Yes,” Rebecca said, putting a hand to her lips. “Yes,” she said again. She let Johnnie take her arm. “Come, Chloe,” she whispered to me. Johnnie’s cock bobbed in front of him, like some obscene fleshy log, as he led Rebecca by her arm to the back of the house. Helene was there, sitting on an enclosed porch. Big trees in her back yard kept prying eyes from seeing Johnnie’s display. She sipped tea from an ivory teacup. “Hello, girls,” Helene said. “My, you dress wonderfully. And such nice hats! Please sit down. I hope Johnnie didn’t scare you? I prefer him naked in this summer heat. It keeps him cooler,” she said. I wondered at that. Her home was air conditioned, though the porch, being screened in, let in some of the summer heat. The glass doors leading out to the porch were drawn back, letting the air conditioned interior of the home cool the porch as well. It was wasteful, but elegant, I thought. The porch would have been too hot with the glass doors closed. The day was too fine to have tea inside. Johnnie seated Rebecca at the table, then myself. He had to be careful not to let his cock jut against our bottoms. I put my hands under my seat to get my dress under me, but it was too short, and I found myself sitting in my panties directly on the chair. Its seat was made of wroght iron, painted white. “Johnnie, get some cushions for them to sit on. The seats are too hard,” Helene said to our escort. “Really, I told you to do that earlier,” she scolded. “Yes, mistress,” Johnnie said. He went into the house and came out a moment later with two lace cushions. He put them on a side table, where flowers stood in a vase. Then he picked up one and bade me lift up my bottom so he could get it under me. I complied. Blushingly I admired his naked cock as his strong hands fitted the cushion under my ass. I sat down too quickly, sitting on his hands. I let out a small cry and lifted my seat again. He adjusted the cushion, removed his hands out from under me, and told me to sit. I did. The cushion was soft. There was lace trimming around its edges. Johnnie placed a cushion under Rebecca’s fanny. She smiled. She adjusted herself on her new seat and tossed back her hair. Helene poured her tea, then me, passing the cups to us. “Mmm, it’s good,” Rebecca said. She sipped her tea. “Orange Pekoe.” “Yes, it’s perfect for summer, is it not?” Helene asked. “Johnnie, dear, why don’t you have a tie on? Go put on a tie for these young ladies here.” “Oh, there is no need,” Rebecca said. Johnnie left, then returned a moment later. A black bow tie was tied skillfully round the base of his cock. The bow part of it faced up, toward his chest. I gasped. Rebecca, beside me, gasped. His thing was extraordinarily long and, despite the tie at its base, it still stuck out usefully a good ten inches or so, providing plenty of meat for a girl who wished to pleasure herself with it. “It is nice, decorated that way, is it not?” Helene asked us. “And there is so much of him, one does not compromise its essential functions, doing it.” “No, one does not,” Rebecca agreed. She gulped at her tea. “It is essential that I see the male penis displayed,” Helene said. “For my business.” “Your business?” Rebecca asked. “Oh, I did not tell you?” Helene asked. She drew Johnnie toward her, clasping at his cock with her fingers. Instinctively he knew, somehow, to refill her cup with tea, and when he had, using a big silver pitcher on the table, he picked up a pitcher of cream and added a dollop of it to her cup. Then she took his cock and dipped the tip of it in her cup. She stirred her tea with the big knobby head of his dick. Mostly just the pee-holed tip of his cock touched her tea, for if his whole head had been plunged in it would have spilled all the tea from her cup. “Give me a bit of your pre-cum, Johnnie,” Helene said. She squeezed lightly on his veined shaft. Johnnie tensed his bottomcheeks. He uttered a slight groan. “Yes, that’s it,” Helene said. She lifted the tip of his hard cock out of her tea and watched as a big dollop of pre-seminal fluid oozed out of Johnnie’s penis. It plopped into her cup. “Mmmm,” Helene said. She brought the warm tea to her lips and sipped it. “He has such fine control,” she said. She let go of his cock. “Give our guests some, too,” she told Johnnie. “Oh, I--” Rebecca said. But Johnnie took her cup and, not allowing her to let go of it, drew it to his crotch. He dipped his cockhead into it. He winced slightly at the heat of the tea, then stirred her tea with his knob. Pre-cum, madam?” Johnnie asked. “Yes, please, if it doesn’t take too much out of you,” Rebecca said. She regarded him with awestruck eyes. Helene stood. She walked round behind Rebecca and put her fingers through Rebecca’s hair. She touched her neck. She loosened the ties there, the ties that held up the front of Rebecca’s dress. “Oh!” Rebecca gasped. “He must be inspired a little,” Helene said. I watched in amazement as Rebecca’s bra cups were loosened. They were part of her dress, yet separate, in a sense, for loosening the cups did nothing to lighten the tightness of the corset-like bodice of the dress around Rebecca’s middle. The cups fell away. Rebecca’s breasts spilled out. Their tips were cherry red, and hard, in contrast to the jellied mounds themselves, which were white and soft. Johnnie gaped at Rebecca’s breasts. They were quite lovely, and the sight of them caused his dick to deposit a droplet of pre-cum into Rebecca’s cup. “You also,” Helene said, coming round the table to me. “Oh, I do not want--!” I blurted, my tea cup hovering at my lips. I held it delicately. I wished to be ladylike. “Do not protest. It is summer,” Rebecca smiled at me. She watched approvingly as Helene undid the strings at my neck, causing my bosoms to pop from my dress. They jiggled freely. I felt the warm air upon them, cooled by the outflow of air from the house, and their tips stood up. Johnnie was brought round to me and I was forced by the intervention of Helene’s hand to offer my cup to him. We held it together as he drooled a droplet of precum into my tea. “It will add to its flavor,” Helene assured me. “And provide a taste of what is yet to cum?” I asked, lifting my eyes to her. I asked innocently, though it caused Rebecca and Helene to laugh. “You are wearing panties at the moment, my dear,” Helene said. “Perhaps you should take them off if you wish to enjoy Johnnie more fully.” “Oh, no. I do not wish to,” I said, quickly sipping my tea. “It is hot,” Rebecca said. She put down her tea. She lifted her hips. She slipped her hands within the abbreviated folds of her dress and pulled down her panties. “Yes, it is,” Helene agreed. Standing behind me, she did the same, pulling down her own panties and stepping out of them. They were white. Rebecca’s were black. “Put them on the table so he can see them,” Helene said. “It will inspire him more.” The two women placed their panties on the table as if offering silky gifts to Johnnie, though he was only our servant, an immigrant from the Czech Republic. He stared at them. I saw a quiver of a smile pass across his lips. Then it faded. A slightly haunted look came to his eyes. I wondered at it. Wasn’t he delighted to have three females at his disposal? Helene returned to her seat. Rebecca settled back into hers. Helene tossed back her head. She had long hair, fetchingly curled so that it formed a mane of loose curls that tumbled round her face and down over her shoulders. There was a blue ribbon tied into the back of her hair, in a bow. She wore no hat, as if hats were reserved for younger girls, like myself, to make me look sweet and childish. She had on a blue silk shirt with a high collar. It had long sleeves. Through it I could just make out the areoles of her breasts. They perked their nipples into the fabric of the shirt now as she sat sipping her tea once more, regarding our naked bosoms and Johnnie’s bare cock. She wore a miniskirt round her waist. Her legs were encased in white silk stockings that gripped her thighs, not needing garters to keep them aloft. Between the tops of her stockings and the hem of her skirt, her legs were bare. She opened them, not wearing panties anymore, her muff free to rub itself on the lace-trimmed cushion upon which she was sitting. Rebecca, also without panties now, wiggled a little on the deep cushion on which she sat. “It is pleasant, is it not, going without panties?” Helene asked Rebecca. My aunt smiled. “It is very pleasant, yes,” Rebecca said. “And cooler too.” I looked again at Johnnie’s eyes. He glanced at Helene’s tummy. It was bare, flat. Her shirt was purposely too short to cover it, though her sleeves were too long for her arms, the cuffs of them covering her hands out to her knuckles. Helene smiled. “I work him hard,” Helene said to Rebecca. The two women shifted their legs wider apart, letting the cool air from the house find their moistening slits between their legs. I longed, suddenly, to be without my own panties. I wanted to expose my quim. How delightful to sit bare bottomed upon the expensive lace seat cushion! To let it moisten with my pussy’s juices. I reached within my dress. I waited for Johnnie’s roving eyes to move away from me. He was admiring us all, as any male would, yet I sensed still that haunted look in his eyes. He looked from Helene’s tummy to my tits, then to the tits of my aunt. I lifted my bottom and slid my panties down my thighs. “Oh, she is doing it!” Helene said. All eyes darted to me. My privacy disappeared. I blushed, my panties ringing my knees. I contemplated, briefly, pulling my panties back up. I did not have to undress. Then the sinfulness of the moment, the feel of the pretty cushion pressed to my naked ass, got the better of me. I succumbed. With a glance at Johnnie’s big cock, I drew my panties down over my knees and let them drop to my ankles. “Take her panties, please, Johnnie, and put them on the table, where we can see them,” Helene said. The young man strode over to me. Despite the haunted look in his eyes, his cock bounced jauntily. He bent down. I gave a small cry as he grabbed the panties ringing my ankles. He forcibly picked up my feet. He disentangled the panties from my spiked heels. He walked over to Helene, holding them in his hand. He gave them to her. She held them up and admired them. They were small, pink. They had pretty red ribbons along their sides. “Yes,” Helene said. She looked at me, then at Rebecca. She smiled. There was a vengefulness in her eyes. She tugged at the panties, hard. “Oh, do not rip them!” I cried. I heard a tearing sound. They were expensive panties, made without the gosset. There was no extra layer of lining where my pussy lips pressed against the fabric. I watched as the crotch of my panties ripped open. Then, still pulling, biting her lip slightly, Helene ripped my undies even more. I felt tears spring to my eyes. Helene dropped my ruined panties on the table. Her nipples were quite stiff now, pushing into the fabric of her shirt like twin bits of coral. I feared the stiffness of the tips might put holes in her shirt. My own nipples, I realized, blushing as I felt tears on my face, were just as hard. Did I like being denuded, my panties publicly torn apart? I looked at Johnnie. Perhaps I hoped he would somehow rescue me from this indignity. Instead I saw a flicker of a smile cross his lips again. Then he licked them. Pre-cum drooled from the tip of his cock and fell on the floor of the screened-in porch. Rebecca, surprised by Helene’s violence toward my panties, now let herself relax once more and smiled at me. “You will not need them, dear,” Rebecca said. “But when we go home?” I asked. Rebecca looked into her teacup and said nothing. After a moment, she sipped her tea. “It is delicious,” she said to Helene. Our hostess reached across the table to where Rebecca’s panties lay. She plucked them from the table with her fingers. They had long nails. Rebecca gulped. Her own panties were without a gosset and Helene stressed them now, pulling at them, until the crotch of them ripped wide apart. Then Helene dropped them on the table and picked up her own panties. Despite the expensiveness of the fabric, she pulled at them until they tore open at the crotch. Then she pulled on them some more, until one of the frilled sides gave way completely, leaving her panties a stringy, useless wreck. She dropped them back on the table. “There,” Helene said. “Now we are all bereft, and can enjoy the freedom of our pussies. Is it not nice, to spread one’s legs and let the air intrude between them?” She looked at Rebecca. She put her hand between her legs and diddled her cunny with a pointed finger. Rebecca watched, wide-eyed, as Helene masturbated. So did I. The table hid the indecency of the act but there was no doubt at all where Helene had put her hand, for almost at once she gave a convulsive shudder. Then she sighed. “Ooooh,” she said. “That feels so good. It is summer and a girl should be able to sit outdoors, bare-bottomed, and give herself a bit of pleasure if she wishes, don’t you think?” Helene asked. “Yes,” Rebecca agreed. She was, I think, trying to be polite, agreeing with our hostess, but Helene took her at her word. “Then do it yourself, my dear,” Helene said. “There’s no reason to be shy. No one can see. And we needn’t feel like lesbians, for we have a man with us, to admire our suffering.” Rebecca glanced at Johnnie. I watched as Rebecca put down her teacup on the table. Then her hand left the table. It slipped, I knew without seeing, down between her legs. Rebecca jerked, her breath catching, as her finger touched her aroused slit. “Oh, yes!” Rebecca said. “It is pleasant, yet it makes you wish for even more, does it not?” Helene asked Rebecca. “Yes,” Rebecca agreed. “That is why I call it suffering,” Helene said. “It is sweet to suffer this way, playing in one’s slit, especially with a man so near.” “Yes,” Rebecca sighed. I gazed at them both, wide eyed. I held my teacup aloft, too surprised to drink from it, or to put it back down on the table. Helene looked at me. “You too,” she said. “Oh, no!” I answered. For I knew the moment I started, I would be unable to stop. I would shiver with ever-increasing need until I begged to be taken. “Yes,” Helene said. Her eyes looked at me with a hardness in them. I shuddered. I felt myself wanting, between my legs. I dropped my hand to the cushion, between my thighs, and flicked a finger toward my nest. “Touch yourself,” Helene ordered. “Oh, please don’t make me!” I cried. Yet Helene sat across the table from me, unable to reach over to where I was sitting. Her eyes alone commanded. “Please don’t make me,” I said again. “Chloe, be a good girl,” Rebecca told me. “By being bad?” I asked. Rebecca smiled. “Yes, by being bad, dear,” she said. Then she emitted an involunatry sigh as her own doings caused her to suffer the pangs of desire. I looked at Johnnie. First at his penis, then up at his eyes. Now I knew why they looked haunted. He was never free from Helene’s sexual plottings. She worked his cock like this every day, teasing him, making him use his tool again and again to serve her pleasure. And it was perverse, the way she used him, making him be naked, using his dick to stir her tea. I had no doubt there were many other tasks she had him perform, every day. And always, if it could possibly be done that way, she made him perform his jobs with his penis. This in addition to the normal round of fucking I knew she must demand from him every night. He was a walking dong, in her house. Always he had to keep himself erect and vulnerable. The rest of his body, though it was gorgeous, mattered little in comparison to his cock. Helene smiled. “Johnnie, have you watered the plants?” she asked. “No, mistress,” Johnnie answered. “Not yet.” “Please do so,” Helene said. “Yes, mistress,” Johnnie replied. There were plants on the porch and Johnnie turned and walked to the nearest one. It was a rose bush. He put his hands on his hips. He thrust his cock carelessly into the mass of thorned branches that made up the bush. I watched, my breath catching, fearing he might pierce himself on a thorn. But he did not, thankfully, and a moment later, as I watched his buttcheeks tighten, I heard a pissing sound. Johnnie peed on the bush. We all watched. Helene licked her lips. Involuntarily my finger found my dell and massaged it. I heard myself gasp. “That’s enough, Johnnie,” Helene called out. I heard the flow of urine stop, abruptly. Johnnie’s asscheeks squeezed hard. He flexed his torso. I guessed he was flinging spare drops of urine into the plant, so they would not fall on the floor and be wasted. Then he turned. His big penis, still tied with the bow, presented itself to us again. “Do the others,” Helene told Johnnie. “Yes, mistress,” Johnnie agreed. He walked over to a poinsetta and began peeing anew, into the pointy leaves. After a bit he stopped the flow of his urine again, squeezing his buttcheeks tightly. Then he walked over to a spray of narcissus flowers, growing in a clay pot. He aimed his cock at them and let his peed on them. Finally he turned and walked over to a cluster of tulip blossoms. He filled the flowered cups with his pee, overspilling them, making them bend under their newfound load and droop toward the earth. “I have no more... in my bladder,” Johnnie said to Helene, turning toward us again. I gazed at his balls, bulging with virile firmness between his legs. Would she make him jerk himself off on the remaining plants? I shivered. I felt my finger intruding in my dell but had not the will to stop it. I dithered it over my clitty and let out a moan. “Come here, Johnnie,” Helene commanded our servant. He walked over to her, his cock a big sausage of flesh that bobbed freely with his every step. Droplets of urine flew off the tip, the last errant remnants of his watering. Helene clutched at the head of his cock and inspected it. She put her teacup to it and gently submerged the tip in the hot tea. Johnnie tensed at the touch of the warm fluid to his cock. Helene bathed the end of his cockhead in her cup of tea to cleanse it of pee. When she lifted the end of Johnnie’s cock out of her cup she waited until all the tea had dripped off it. Then she put the big knobby head to her lips and sucked briefly upon it. Johnnie groaned. “I shall expect you to service our guests as eagerly and thoroughly as you serve me, Johnnie,” Helene said to the man, not looking up in his face, however, but keeping his eyes on his cock, addressing his pee hole. “Yes, mistress,” Johnnie said. “You must make every effort to satisfy them,” Helene told the man, still looking at his cock as she spoke. “Yes, mistress,” Johnnie said. The haunted look returned to his eyes, though he smiled, slightly. Helene looked at me. I gazed at her, my finger between my legs under the table, diddling my slit. I gave a sigh as my finger, paying attention to my nubbed clit, made it hunger for even greater attention. “Stand up,” Helene said. I drew my shoulders together. I crouched a little, recalcitrant, for I did not want to stop playing with myself, and did not want to be seen doing it, either. “Stand up,” Helene told me again. With a great sigh I leaped to my feet. I plucked my hand from my dell, only to put it back again, so great had my need suddenly become. With my pussy above the level of the table, I freely fingered myself, uncaring that they all could see what I was doing to myself. At the same time I told myself that I was hiding my cunt from their view, for my hand was over it, though one of my fingers was inquiring up within it. “Turn around,” Helene told me. I gave a sigh of relief. Of course! If I turned around they would see only my too-short miniskirt, just covering my bottom, and not see the front anymore, where my hand, intruding in my dell, caused my skirt to rise and display my furred mount. I turned on my spiked heels. As I offered them a view of my bottom I frigged myself more freely. I didn’t have to worry about hiding my nakedness now. I sighed as my questing finger delved deep in my lips. Helene’s next words shocked me. “Lift her skirt in back,” she told Johnnie. “I want to see her ass.” The man strode over to me. I glanced over my shoulder at him, still too hungry for something up my twat to spare it the touch of my finger. As I diddled myself, he gallantly lifted the back of my skirt, baring my bottom. Helene, sitting across the table, nodded. “It is a sweet tush,” she said approvingly. “It has still the pertness of a child’s bottom, the cheeks sticking out, while yet having the bell-shaped fullness of a woman.” Helene looked at Rebecca. “It is especially lovely that, even with the filling out of her hips, her ass is still small. I have a taste for spanking small bottoms. May I do hers? I promise I would soothe it afterward.” “She would look quite salacious wiggling it all about under the lash,” Rebecca agreed. Then she bit her lip and gasped as her finger, playing in her slit, brought her a new tremor of pleasure. “Yes, it would be delightful,” Helene said. She too gasped, thinking of paddling me as she played in her dell. As for myself, despite the wickedness of the proposal, I couldn’t stop frigging myself! “What... implements would you use?” Rebecca gasped to Helene. “A good sturdy paddle,” Helene answered. “She would have to be tied down, of course. I wouldn’t want her running around the house. She might break something.” “Of course,” Rebecca said. “You both arrived wearing ankle straps,” Helene said. “They’re quite sexy looking. Did you intend just to tease, or...?” “Perhaps not just to tease,” Rebecca replied with a fevered sigh. “Good. I had hoped not,” Helene said. “If the moment is right, perhaps you both will get to use them for their intended purpose,” Helene said to Rebecca. “Not just for decoration, but for their utility in rendering one immobile.” “Yes,” Rebecca gasped. She was quite excited by the playing of her finger in her cunt by now, as was I. We no longer had the good sense to say no to such silly ideas. I felt the air upon my bare bottom and shivered. “Tear off her dress,” Helene told Johnnie. “No!” I cried. But before I could think how to save myself, Johnnie, who was very strong, ripped the skirt of my dress off the corset-like bodice. A moment later I wore only the middle part of my dress, the cups of it undone from my breasts, the back torn away to permanently reveal my bottom. “Ah, she is fetching, is she not?” Helene asked aloud. “Look how she tenses the cheeks. She is so young. Has her bottom tasted a whip or paddle before? A hand, even?” Helene asked, turning to my aunt. Rebecca gave a little cough. “A little,” she admitted, after a moment’s pause. “Good, then she knows the pleasure it can bring, the sweet perversity of taking pleasure from pain,” Helene said. “Oooh! No I dooon’t!” I cried, still diddling my slit like a mad girl, my knees trembling and my bare hips shaking, offering my wobbling ass to their view even as I tried to resist them. “Johnnie, tie her hands. I do not wish for her to come until after her lessons, as a reward,” Helene told the young man behind me. At once he pulled my hand from my dell, reaching around me. His cock bumped my fanny. His pee hole felt wet against my bare skin. It left a mark of precum upon my flesh. I tried to keep my remaining hand from his reach, fluttering it out away from my body, stretching my arm as far away from myself and him as I could, but he simply grabbed my upper arm and wrenched it back. He put my arms together behind my back. He turned me to face my aunt and our hostess. I gasped. Tears welled up in my eyes. My tummy sank under my ribs and my bosoms, large and heavy for my age, wobbled freely on my chest. My nipples, traitors both, sprouted hard and ready on my chest; ready for whatever plans Helene had for them. I tightened my bottom against the wobbling touchings of Johnnie’s stiff cock. Helene tossed my panties across the table. Johnnie caught them in his hand. “Oh, no!” I gasped, but Johnnie paid me no mind. He wrapped my panties around my wrists. My arms were tied behind me. “Rebecca!” I said. Wildly I looked at my aunt. She sipped her tea, a picture of calmness, though her hand holding her teacup was trembling just a little. She said nothing; merely looked at me and offered a weak smile. Then she sighed, abruptly, for her other hand was still between her legs, fingering her slit. “Take her downstairs,” Helene said to Johnnie, dismissing us both with a wave of her hand. “Rebecca and I shall join you both when we’ve finished our tea.” “Oh, nooo!” I cried. I wriggled hard against the firm grip of Johnnie’s hands. His cock, jutting against my bottom, seemed to enjoy the jiggling of my bare ass cheeks against it. Helene put a finger to her lips. “Shhhh, child,” she said to me. “The neighbors will hear.” I gasped. My hat fell off. I drew in my breath to let out a mighty scream, to beg for help, when I noticed Johnnie bending down to the floor to pick up my hat. My scream caught in my throat, unspoken. Carefully Johnnie picked up my pretty new hat and replaced it on my head. I looked into Helene’s eyes. She sipped her tea and smiled. Johnnie turned me around. I struggled a little, as he pushed me forward. But I did not scream. A moment later he and I were both in the house. I gaped at the enclosing walls. They were prettily decorated. Paintings, silverware in a hutch, an old victrola that played wax records met my eyes, and surrounding it all were the silent walls with their discreet, modest 1950’s wallpaper. I was walked across the room, my bare breasts bouncing, Johnnie’s cock bobbling its head at the end of its long stem against the crevice of my ass. My hair hung in my eyes and I tried to shake it away, by moving my head, without losing my hat. I was partly successful. Johnnie walked me to a door and opened it. We slipped within the wall. I found steps. They led downward into darkness. Johnnie flipped a lightswitch and the darkness was partly illuminated, down below, down beyond the end of the bottom steps. We went down the dark stairway together. Down to the pool of light below. Johnnie pushed me ahead of him, like a hunter driving a small captured fawn home to his cave. We reached the bottom of the stairs. I gazed around. Immediately I gasped and bit my lip. I was in a dungeon! “Do not be alarmed,” Johnnie said to me, from behind, still holding my panty-bound wrists. “Mistress brings me down here on a regular basis. I’m still in one piece.” “Oh, but--!” I gasped. Johnnie removed my broad-brimmed straw hat. I felt much more naked without it. It no longer dipped its brim low over my eyes, making me coy. I watched as he strolled over to a peg driven into the wall and hung up my hat. He hung it high up, so I could not reach it. Its pink ribbon dangled down. I gazed at it helplessly. He turned and walked back to me. I tried to run but a quick thrust of his arm caught me by my wrists and restrained me. I looked from the stairs, to which I’d tried to flee, back to him, and I wilted. He was so gorgeous! His penis stuck out from his narrow, trim hips like a sausage carved from the biggest and heftiest of pigs. Under his swollen cock his balls hung engorged, filled with his seed. His chest looked as if it had been carved from ivory, then sprinkled lightly with hair and left out in the sun to bronze. His arms rippled with bulging muscles. His stomach was flat. I felt a yearning to kiss his hard belly. I wished to cling with my small hands to his massive prick. Surely he could rescue me and take me away from here! “I would never betray my mistress,” Johnnie said to me. His voice was firm. His eyes gazed at my body with a resolve that made me shiver. “But--” I pleaded. “Do not quarrel,” Johnnie said. “Come, I will make things as comfortable for you as I can.” He drew me toward a bench. It was made of hard, polished wood. There were two pillows on a shelf next to it. Johnnie pulled down the pillows and, letting go of me, unfolded two crisp white pillow cases stacked amongst some towels and covered the pillows with them. Then he set both pillows down on the bench. He put one on top of the other, and arranged them both so that they were in the center of the bench. There were cords affixed to the four legs of the bench. They waited in quiet piles to be affixed to limbs. I was too scared to move. I watched, wide-eyed, my breasts thrust obscenely up and out in front of me, due to my arms being tied behind my back. I curled my toes in my high-heels. I felt the sexy ankle straps on my legs and wished I had not chosen to be so flirtateous by wearing them. Johnnie, nude himself except for the black bow tie bound around the shaft of his cock, turned and faced me. We were like Adam and Eve, except he was obscenely adorned and I was teasingly bound and corseted and accoutred with straps. His eyes roved over my jellied breasts, savored their quivering tips, then fell and regarded my slim hips within my corset and my flat belly. They slipped lower, gazing into my muff. My skirt hung fetchingly over it, but with my arms pulled back the hem of my skirt was raised a little in front, giving a glimpse of the lowermost part of my bush. Every little movement of my body caused the front of my skirt to twitch. The curled hairs of my pubis were shown off like some secret meadow, caught in snatches between the rising and falling of my dress. Finally Johnnie let his eyes inspect in the inner curves of my thighs. They were bare and white and unhidden by anything. He could gaze upon their softness all he wished. Just above, a warm haven offered relief for his prick. His penis pulsed as he looked at me. I knew he was as hungry as I was fearful. A tremor shook him. I could see that he longed to stuff his long thing up inside me. “Oh, take me if you wish, just don’t torture me!” I begged. I felt my knees wobble and would have dropped down onto them, but he reached out and caught me by one of my bound arms. “No,” he said. “I will fuck you if and when my mistress permits it.” He drew me close to him. His thick cock bumped against my corsetted waist. It left a stain upon the fabric. I looked up at him imploringly. I felt my bottom wriggle behind me, worried of what was in store for it. “Oh, why?” I asked. He stroked my long hair, ignoring my question. He murmured something about my long blonde mane smelling beautiful. Then he spoke more audibly, and his words made me shiver with uncontrollable fear. “I will be with you the entire time,” Johnnie told me. “I will be here to comfort you and to give you whatever is needed. A sip of water, a quick bathing of the face, smelling salts...” Johnnie reached down and tore away the front of my dress. I yelped. He tossed the fabric he’d ripped off me onto the floor. I was completely bare now, below the waist. Nothing hid me behind or in front. Johnnie reached up and tore the halter part of my bodice off, the part that had once covered my breasts, before he’d untied it upstairs. Then he cupped my nearest breast. He squeezed it. He worked his fingers up over the fleshy cone until they were squeezing just my nipple. “You will be having your erotic parts trained here,” he said. “Your hands, your feet.. think nothing of them. They will be bound. Here all attention will be on what you normally keep covered. Your nipples, your furry little pussy, and your anus. Plus your mouth, for as a girl you must learn to use that part of yourself as erotically as your cunt. Wet your lips,” Johnnie told me. I looked up at him and ran my tongue over them. “Yes, you have a perfect lovely mouth and you will learn to suck with it, if you do not know how to do it already,” Johnnie said. “Now I want you to lie down on this bench and I will prepare you for mistress.” He undid my hands. My arms flew to my front and I rubbed my fingers over my wrists. I looked up at his face. He patted my bare bottom with his hand. “Do not be difficult,” Johnnie said. “Like I said, I’ll be right here with you every step of the way.” I was overwhelmed by his masculinity. It stole all my sense from me. I walked to the bench. I even wiggled my bottom, salaciously, still hoping he might spear me upon his cock and, loosing his seed in me, decide only he and I needed to be together in the world, without his pesky mistress. I felt his eyes on my bottom but he did not take me up on my invitation. I gazed at the bench. I tossed back my hair. I took a deep breath. Then, biting my lip, I passed one of my legs over the bench, straddling it. I stood wide-legged over the bench, just shy of the mounded pillows. Then I stepped forward. I pressed my crotch into the pillows and leaned forward. I lay down. I waggled my bottom, adjusting myself over the piled up pillows. I turned my head and rested my cheek on the hard wood of the bench. I gripped the sides of the bench with my hands. I lay on the bench with my legs wide apart, my hips upraised, my feet just touching the floor. “Very good,” Johnnie said. “Would you like something under your cheek?” he asked. “Yes,” I murmured. The wood was hard against my face. “And something over my tush too.” Johnnie laughed. “You know I cannot do that,” he said. “Your tush must be trained.” I squeezed my eyes shut. Oh, I felt so exposed! Yet I lay upon the bench, too scared and too overwhelmed by Johnnie’s large masculine body to move. Secretly, I felt proud for my willingness to face the challenges he was presenting to me. I promised myself that I was really submitting to him, not to his mistress. It was Johnnie who was my master, not some woman. Johnnie lifted my face slightly. He wedged a small cushion under my cheek. It felt soft. It had lace-trimmed edges. I was grateful for it. “Thank you,” I murmured. “Now I must tie your arms,” Johnnie said. “Oh, please don’t,” I begged. But I did not move my hands, and he lifted them one by one from the bench and wrapped wrist straps around them. Then each of my hands was pulled down to the floor and tied off with a cord. When Johnnie had fastened my arms, he moved down to the other end of the bench and tied my feet to the rear legs of the bench. It was a long bench, big enough to accomodate someone his size, and so my feet were tied by running the cords up along the floor, under the bench, until they reached me. “There,” Johnnie said. “You’re all tied. Thanks for not struggling. It would only make my job more of a nuisance and I would be expected to punish you for it, and you will be punished enough by mistress without me adding to your ordeal.” “Oh, I don’t want to be hurt!” I begged. I pulled at my bonds. He had done his job well. They held me fast to the bench, and offered up my wriggling bottom to his lusty eyes. I twisted my head. My mane of long blonde hair swished over my back. “Perhaps ‘punished’ is not the right word,” Johnnie said. “It is more like a work out. You will be stretched, opened. Filled. It is the duty of a female to learn to receive, and you will learn your lessons well down here. And in addition to that you must be smacked. Think of it as a stimulation. A good hard whacking can be good for you. It is not meant to harm you but to enliven you, to make you more receptive. I myself have had my ass whacked numerous times by mistress, for sins both real and invented. At first it is alarming to be struck on the bare ass, but you get used to it. You learn to take it in the spirit it is given, with loving, if somewhat painfully applied, affection. Mistress does not punish those who aren’t young and beautiful, ‘made for the lash,’ as she likes to put it. Imagine my dick bouncing around as I stand with my wrists tied above my head, her paddle swatting my bottom. Imagine my balls jangling between my legs and you begin to see the erotic potential in such an act. Why, just last week, she invited seven ladyfriends over for tea. After I served them we came downstairs. She tied me standing upright in front of them, in the middle of the room, with my penis bared to them, and she paddled me. It hurt, but imagine how I felt, making an involuntary display of my cock to their eyes. Especially since only three were women. Four were girls, ranging in age from six to twelve. It was their first exposure to a man’s cock. Imagine my own alarm at having such a vulgar display made of my groin, and in front of such tender, innocent eyes. Mistress knew that despite my shame I enjoyed it, and she paddled me all the harder for it. “And the girls?” I asked in an awe-struck, quavering voice. “They squealed and hid their eyes,” Johnnie said. “Except for the 12-year-old. She squealed and stared. Then they all begged to see me ‘shoot out his white stuff,’ as they said. After my paddling mistress had them attack me with their tongues. I was mortified and tried to hold back my seed as long as I could. Finally I could not, and my cum spurted into their soft lovely hair and all over their faces. Their mothers let them run upstairs then, squealing delightedly. They all had to take baths before they went home, so their fathers wouldn’t smell my seed in their curls. I fucked all their mothers downstairs, and mistress. Four times I had to cum, once in each of their nests. It was an exhausting night,” Johnnie told me. “But in the morning I’ll bet you were hard and ready to go again,” I said, gazing up at his cock. “Uh, yes, that’s true,” Johnnie said. “I can raise a sheet in the morning, that’s for sure. Mistress calls it ‘putting up the tent.’” Johnnie took a flask of oil down from the shelf. It looked as if it had been sitting in something. He uncorked it. “This may hurt a little. Though not as much as if I’m ordered to take you, or mistress does, wearing a dildo,” Johnnie told me. “No, please--” I begged. Johnnie paid no attention. He palmed my bottom and, despite a sudden clenching of my cheeks, he easily pried apart the twin halves of my ass. I felt like a car rolled into an auto body shop, about to be worked on by a mechanic. Johnnie tilted the bottle slightly and a drooling of warm oil dripped from the bottle’s neck down into the crack of my ass. It wetted my anus. Johnnie congratulated himself on his aim. He set the bottle down on the floor and, still holding my ass open, he dipped his finger into my forcibly spread cheeks. He jabbed at my bottomhole. I gasped. “Do not tighten yourself, if you can help it,” Johnnie told me. “I have to oil you to a depth of several inches, to make the passage easier. God, you’re tight! Are you a virgin back here?” “Yes,” I lied. Well, I was almost one, wasn’t I? “I hate doing virgins,” Johnnie grumbled. He provoked another sharp gasp from me as his finger delved deeper. “Don’t worry, we’ll get you properly opened up back here. Mistress believes a girl should be able to take a man’s cock in her bottomhole as easily as in her cunt.” “Ohhhhh!” I sighed, squeezing my cheeks against his intrusion. He poked his finger farther up my back hole. I felt a thin film of oil within me, mingling with the moisture I was providing there in my excitement. My bottomcheeks huddled against his probings and he swore and prised me farther apart with his palm. With his other hand, he dug deepr with his finger. Strangely, I felt my nest wetten against the pillows. My tummy tightened with a kind of odd pleasure and my nipples on my breasts budded hard and ripe against the wood of the bench. “There,” Johnnie said. He withdrew his finger. I heard a small ‘pop’ as it cleared the clenching opening of my back hole. “Oh, do not take it out!” I cried, making him laugh. “What?” he asked. Tears sprang to my eyes. “Oh, I do not know what I’m saying...” I gasped. But I did, for the absence of his finger in me left me feeling bereft. “Well, what have we here?” I heard a female voice ask. It was mistress! I froze upon the bench, ceasing even the absent wigglings of my bare tush. I glanced back over my shoulder. Rebecca was with her. But they were holding hands, and Rebecca gazed at me with a sheepish, willing look in her eyes. I saw there were tears on her face. When she turned, slightly, I saw her skirt had been cut away in back, or ripped. Her bottom was red. Johnnie noticed it too. “She did not finish her tea,” Mistress smiled. “I had to make Rebecca bend over the tea table and take a paddling from my hand. I cut off her skirt so she could diddle herself while I did it, and not have to hold up the back of her dress for me. She was a good girl.” Helene turned to Rebecca and pecked her cheek with a kiss. “She obeyed me and stopped playing with herself when she felt the urge to cum,” Rebecca said. “And, taking her spanking, she only cried out once. Down here things will be easier. We will not have to worry about the neighbors hearing.” “Yes, mistress,” Johnnie said. “Is that little tart all tied down?” Helene asked Johnnie, nodding toward me. I noticed both she and Rebecca were wiggling their hips, and guessed they were hungry from their masturbating. I was hungry too, despite my shame in admitting it to myself. I wanted a finger on my button and I wanted to spend on the pillows. I wanted to do something else, too. “Oh, I have to pee!” I cried. “Please untie me so I can go.” “Certainly not,” Helene said to me. “You will be whipped and you will hold your water until I’m finished, like a good girl. If you pee on the pillows it will be worse for you, I can assure you.” She turned to Rebecca. “Turn around, dear. I want you completely out of your dress.” Rebecca turned her back to Helene. She stood meekly as the red-haired woman undid it. It took awhile. I watched, wriggling my bottom and begging to be let up to pee. “Shhhh,” Johnnie told me. “You’ll pee when mistress permits.” 30 ----------------------- Dreamgirls! ----------------------- -Back issues (and stories): type http://www.dejanews.com/ into your browser’s “Location” window. Press your “return” key. Click on “Quick Search”, then type in: roller39@idt.net Press your “return” key. Scroll to the very bottom of the page that appears. Change “Standard” to “Complete” roller39@idt.net is already typed into the window. Click in the window behind the “t” in “.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. 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