Message-ID: <22084asstr$946753801@assm.asstr-mirror.org> X-Original-Message-ID: <386D8F04.5373@earthlink.net> From: Andrew Roller Reply-To: roller666@earthlink.net Subject: {ASSM} bomb destroys New York X-To: story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us JMDigest-Score: good -42 Date: Sat, 1 Jan 2000 14:10:01 -0500 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: newsman, Vulpine MY NEW YEAR'S REPORT by me, holy joe Someday in the future people will probably wonder what New Year's 2000 was like. (That is, the evening of December 31, 1999.) So I will tell you. First of all, I saw a little girl. She was about seven or eight-years-old. The first thing I noticed about her was how cute her face was. It was truly perfect. Unfortunately she had a baseball cap on and the visor of her cap threw a shadow across her forehead and her eyes. But despite this observational difficulty I was able to discern that she had a slightly upturned button nose and a generous mouth, plus nice eyes. Her face had a charm to it that was truly indescribable. She was constantly smiling and happy. A most unusual feature about this girl was that, despite her age, and her casual manner of dress, she had very well groomed hair, like a woman or a teenage girl. Her hair was long. It was light brown. It had "body" to it, like girls have when they spend a lot of time washing and conditioning their hair. It was a delight to see such woman-like hair on such a young girl. (Even though, if I saw the same hair on, say, a female who was 20, I would say "ho hum, artificial hair on an ageing female.") Now another unique feature of this girl was that, when she unzipped her jacket and pulled it open, I discerned small breast buds poking into her shirt. How sweet it was to see such a young girl already growing tits! I'm sure by the time she's 12 she'll have sizable melons. Imagine if you will, then, this girl, about 8, with her nice compact body, her "woman's" hair, her angelic face and her little breast buds. Such a treasure! I wish I could have spent until the year 3000 (at least) staring at her, but, as it was, another beautiful girl appeared! This girl was about 10 or 11-years-old. The most remarkable feature about her was her very long legs. God, were they long and slim! I stared at them with my mouth wide open and practically drooling! It is impossible to describe how slim and perfect her legs were. Of course on a girl with such awesome legs you can imagine her bottom-- nice and slim. I loved seeing her wiggle her hips when she got excited about something! Her face was not quite as perfect as the 8-year-old girl's face but it was still gorgeous to look at, with her youthful, pink cheeks and bright eyes. She had a dark pony tail-- a perfect hairstyle for "my little pony-- age 11." Now another girl I saw this New Year's I did not get to see up close. But she was about 10, had long legs, and a blonde ponytail! I very much enjoyed looking at her before letting go of a balloon I'd stolen and watching it sail up into the night sky. As a special treat, let me describe to you my Christmas 1999. (That is, Christmas Day 1999.) I saw a blonde girl. She was about 12. She had a good face and a blonde pony tail. She also had a nice body, with the biggest tits I've ever seen on a girl so young! God, what will her breasts look like when she's 18 ???!!! (Oh well, who cares? It's what she looks like at age 12 that's important, right?) Let me tell you, as best as I could see, this blonde was "Playmate Perfect". A wonderful Christmas present! That is all the girls I've seen recently. (All the truly ravishing ones, that is!) Hopefully you saw some girls too. Now for those men less certain in their morals, who desire that creature who caused the downfall of Man, namely Woman, I hereby present a sex story. It concerns an adult man and an adult woman. (Ho hum.) I have tried to make the woman as youthful as possible but unfortunately she is still, in fact, a grown, married woman... who is committing adultery with another man. I recommend you trash this and stare lustfully at the illustrations in Alice in Wonderland but, given that this is New Year's, I am distributing this for the various sinners who need their fix of "women". - NND --------------------------------------------------------- Visit me at: http://home.earthlink.net/files/Authors/Roller/www666/index.html --------------------------------------------------------------- Andrew Roller Presents NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS in NIGHT VISITOR Chapter Five "You will go to our bedroom," Master said to Taylor. The young man stood with his cock all a-quiver in front of the couple, swallowing hard. Each movement of the adam's apple in his taut throat was reflected by a pulse running along the length of his cock. "Am I.. then..." Taylor hesitated to ask the question. There were only two answers, obviously. The first one he wanted, the second he didn't. But he wasn't sure he would have much choice in the matter. He would either fuck Mistress, or Master would fuck him. "Am I to do your wife?" Taylor finally asked, in the most tactful manner he could. "Perhaps," Master answered. "Perhaps?" Taylor echoed, making the statement a question. Good God! He was hard as a bone. What else could he do with his erection. Mistress smiled. "I am not so easily won," she told Taylor. Her eyes glanced down. "Although you do make an excellent sales pitch. Perhaps you will yet get to plunge that thing into me, to rend me with it. But first, you must prove yourself." "How?" Taylor gasped. His cock quavered with excitement and trepidation. He glanced at Master's trousers. There was a significant bulge in them. "First," Mistress continued. "I must torture you. Specifically, your penis." Taylor groaned. A third option! One he had not considered. Of course-- they were dominants. A mere butt-fucking wouldn't be enough to buy them off, painful though it would be. "Go to my bedroom," Mistress told Taylor. "Just as you are, of course. Buck naked. If your penis begins to flag you have my permission to rub it, but only to keep it stiff." Master looked at Mistress. "You have had too many old ones lately," Master laughed. "Look at him! He's young. If he touches himself he'll spurt all over the carpet. He won't have any problem keeping himself up." "N- No, I won't," Taylor gulped. He had some ability to distract himself from becoming stiff, but once he got going, there was no hope for him. He stayed hard until he came. Simple as that. Sometimes he even stayed hard even after he came. Taylor walked from the parlor. He felt strange. He could feel two pairs of eyes watching his behind. It was red. It hurt when he walked, the skin stretching taut, moving, jiggling in a hard, muscular way. "You did him well," Mistress told Master. "A firm hand does wonders for an errant boy," Master joked. Taylor blushed. He felt his face turn as red as his bottom. Quickly he spun around. He stared at Master. "I just want you to know that if she" he pointed to Mistress "hadn't made me do that, it would never have happened." "Of course," Master smiled. "That's why I have a gorgeous wife. It puts the young men under my roof into the most wonderfully compromising positions. Indeed, should you ever rise to my level, you will discover this: while you get into this business for the pleasure of dominating females, it is the males who ultimately provide the best thrill. Females desire domination. It is in their nature. Most of them, anyway," Master said. He shot a quick glance at Mistress. "But get a young man, a healthy young man like yourself, who has no thoughts at all about being gay, ahhhh! To put him in such a position as you were just in, that is the ultimate thrill. Because it is so unnatural for him. So unexpected." "Yes," Taylor agreed. But deep down he wondered if he hadn't asked for the spanking. He had agreed so readily, almost as if in a trance. Almost as if his coming here was no so much about Tabitha, but about himself. About exposing himself to long-repressed, perverted desires. Was Tabitha just his excuse for being here? Was he really here just for himself? Taylor turned and walked out of the parlor. He went to the stairs. He climbed them, slowly, watching his penis bob up and down as he walked. At the top of the stairs he turned. No one was behind him. He might run back down the stairs, grab some clothes somehow, flee to his car out front! But instead he turned, and walked down the hall. He came to the bedroom Tabitha had been locked in the night before. Her door was open, now. He went inside, his cock leading the way. Tabitha was lying face down on her bed. She heard the footfalls coming. She was holding the teddy bear in her hands, propped on the pillow, as if on an operating table. She ran a fingernail across the bear's middle. "Cesarian section," she whispered. Then, reconsidering, she ran her fingernail over the bear's belly again, this time from top to bottom, from its neck to its crotch. "Vivisection," she breathed. Taylor entered. Tabitha laid her head down on the bear. Coming into the room, Taylor saw the handle of the whip sticking out from under the pillow. He gasped. Tabitha was so lovely, her body all stretched out, slim and smooth, her bottom a heaven of white perfection, two scrumptious round cheeks, begging for action. And the action was just within reach, peeping stiffly out from under the pillow. He wanted to hop on the bed. To knee his way between her spread legs, to present himself to the tight halves of her ass, to push, to lance, to stab his way into her. But instead, thinking of Mistress, he went to the head of the bed. He bent over her and kissed her cheek. She looked up at him, her head still on the bear. The fuzziness of the bear caressing her pink-fleshed cheek. "Taylor," she breathed, her long blonde hair tumbling down the back of her head, falling along the sides of her face, like that of a child's who has laid restless in bed. He kissed her upturned cheek, then her nose, which made her blink, and finally the gleaming mass of blonde gold where it left her head and ran streaming over her shoulders. "I reject you," Taylor whispered. "What?" Tabitha gasped. "I leave you to those who will deal with you as they must," Taylor said. She seemed suddenly frantic. He ignored the fear in her eyes. "Those pillows are not for your head," Taylor said. "They are for your hips." He had no authority to deal with her this way, he was to report straight to Mistress' bedroom, but he couldn't help himself. He yanked the pillows, both of them, from the head of the bed. The whip was exposed. The teddy bear went tumbling. Tabitha reached after the bear but it fell to the floor. Taylor ordered her to arch her hips. "Lift your bottom, Miss Bottom!" he commanded. She obeyed. Her eyes fixed themselves on his penis as she lifted her rump. But he had no intention of giving that part of himself to her. He shoved the pillows under her hips and belly. He ordered her to relax, letting her weight be absorbed by the pillows. He turned to leave. "My bear," Tabitha called. He turned. His penis wobbling, stiff and ready, he bent and picked up the bear. He presented it to her. She licked her lips. She accepted the bear in her hands but her eyes were on Taylor's groin. He slid the whip off the bed. He laid it on the nightstand. Then he walked out of the room. Trying not to think of the whip which lay so openly on the nightstand, Tabitha settled again on the pillows. She looked at the bear in her hands. She had no pillow next to her face to prop him on now. She sighed. Then she flipped him over. Holding him with one hand, she brought her other hand down on his bottom. "Slap," Tabitha whispered. She repeated the motion, spanking the little brown bear. "Slap! Slap! Slap!" Tabitha wiggled her hips on the pillows each time her hand struck the bear. Rene shuffled into the room. Tabitha was still spanking the bear, when suddenly she became aware of her. Tabitha blushed. She looked at the maid. There were things in the maid's hands, which the maid put down on the nightstand by the bed. A pot of cream, a bottle of ointment, a box of cotton balls, and antiseptic lotion. "You'll need these in about half and hour," Rene told Tabitha. The woman turned and left. Tabitha gazed at the table. She felt an icy knot of fear in her stomach. Those things-- they were what people needed when they were injured! Taylor walked into the room. Tabitha heard his footsteps and craned her neck to see who it was. Her fear welled and then subsided when she saw it was only Taylor again, not Master. But then her eyes widened. Her breath caught in her throat. "I found this in Mistress' bedroom," Taylor said. He showed her a rope. "Probably it was for me but I'm going to give it to you. Stretch out your hands. I want there to be no misunderstandings about our relationship. You belong to Master now. I don't care what happens to you anymore." "But Taylor!" Tabitha shouted. She had come with him, both literally and in his car. How could he be so bestial to her now, leaving her in the hands of someone she didn't know? Then she realized she didn't know Taylor either. Who was this strange man with the hunky body and the perfect erection? She didn't have time to think about it. He ordered her to let go of the bear and stretch out her hands. She did. She felt a thrill of the unexpected as she watched him bend over her. He began wrapping the rope around her wrists. It was prickly. It scratched her skin. He wrapped it also around the post running the length of the headboard, where the headboard met the front edge of the mattress. As Tabitha watched, her hands were tied. Taylor checked the rope when he was finished to make sure it was tight. Tabitha moaned. "Good. I'm glad it's tight," Taylor said, reading her thoughts. "You'll need it tight if you're to take what I think is planned for you. I leave you like this. You were too childish, too recalcitrant for me to deal properly with you. Or perhaps I was too lenient. An older man will not put up with your mixed emotions, your little shenanigans, your `yes' `no' `yes' silliness. He will give you what you need, hard and unflinchingly. As for me, while I listen to your pathetic screams I'll be buried deep in the loving cunt of a wonderfully mature woman. I leave a little girl like you to whomever may want you." Taylor said nothing of Mistress' promised torture. Sure that his rejection of Tabitha was now complete, that he could forget her now, he stalked from the bedroom. "But how-- how will I get home?" Tabitha called after Taylor in a plaintive voice. Taylor walked down the hall. A minute later he returned, with a man's necktie in his hands. Without speaking, he bent over the squirming girl, and jammed the necktie into her mouth. Tabitha let out a shriek, but the cloth forced into her mouth silenced her. Tears welled in her eyes as she felt Taylor bind the tie at the back of her neck. "You were saying?" Taylor laughed. He looked at her slim waist, at her arching, frantic hips, at the tensing and squeezing flesh of her naked bottom. Then he looked at the nightstand. "Cotton and antiseptic. Good," Taylor said. "They expect to make your bottom bleed. That's what you require, a sound thrashing, right where you'll remember it best." Tabitha was nearly in a panic when suddenly Taylor's cruel mood changed. He leaned over her, and kissed her ass. First one cheek, then the other. She felt his wet lips. When he raised them from her behind he said, in a soft voice, "Of course, I could never do such a thing to such a lovely ass." And then he left, leaving Tabitha in a quandary. She felt like her head was spinning. Her bottom tingled all over, radiating out from where Taylor's newly shaved face, and his warm, loving lips, had pressed down upon her. She was both scared, and excited. She felt like a child being teased in some strange, wild game. What were they really going to do to her? She looked at the sunlight streaming through the window. It was a lovely day, but she was inside, out of the sun in a bedroom, bedridden like some hospital patient, waiting for an operation she didn't need. "Elective surgery," something said in Tabitha's mind, and it sent a sheet of fear from her toes all the way up to her eyes. More footsteps on the stairs. Tabitha wriggled on the clean, soft sheets of her bed, on the humped pillows pressing upon and lifting her hips. The footsteps approached her door. Her open door. Tabitha was gagged, bound, but her legs were open. The slit of her sex exposed. A voice screamed at her, inside her head, to do what she could to make herself modest, to not allow herself to be found this way, with her slit showing. But Tabitha's legs resisted. Instead of forcing them together, she jammed her knees hard into the sheet, where the sheet met the piled-up pillows. She bit her gag, and waited. She squeezed shut her eyes. And that is how Mistress found her, and immediately the woman burst out laughing. At once Tabitha felt humiliated. She had not expected a woman to come. Not now. It was too late, she was too far along in her decisions. Her choices. Guiltily she realized she was a co-partner in this game. Her legs proved it. She could have closed them, but she had deliberately left them open. Even now, as Mistress laughed at her, she kept her eyes squeezed shut with embarrassment, and her jaw locked on her gag, but her legs apart, like a cheap whore tied down and waiting to be fucked. A hand patted Tabitha's rump. It reached between the lowermost part of her cheeks, down to where her thighs arched open. It tickled her sex. Feeling the soft fingertips, and the hard, brittle fingernails caressing her most intimate spot, Tabitha snapped her legs shut. It was instinctive. She had done it without thinking. Had she thought about it, she realized with horror, she might have left them open. Carefully Mistress extricated her fingers from between Tabitha's close-pressed thighs. She caressed the girl's bottom again, which Tabitha could do nothing to hide, offering it as she did by lying face-down over the pillows. She laughed again, and then said, "I just came to check on you. But I see others have already checked." Mistress glanced at the things on the table: the cream, the antiseptic, the cotton balls waiting to be used. Slowly she caressed Tabitha's naked hiney, her hand moving in ever-widening circles. "How compromised you look, dear," Mistress said. She lifted her hand. She put it to the very center of Tabitha's bottom. She traced the tight crack between the girl's cheeks. "But we are all compromised by birthing and child-rearing, so perhaps it is well you got started experiencing those feelings," Mistress told Tabitha. Lying face-down on the bed, her mouth filled with the gag, her wrists tied and immobile, Tabitha squirmed. She opened her eyes. She craned her neck to look back. She gaped at the woman massaging her behind. Her breasts were large and luscious, spilling from her gown. Her face was picture-perfect. The mascara was neat and well-applied. Her hair, in beautiful brown ringlets, fell half-covering her face, showing its beauty and yet hiding it, making a game of it. Mistress' eyes flashed at Tabitha from behind a veil of her hair. "Do not think that because I am being sweet to you that I am always this way," Mistress warned Tabitha. "I am amused by your situation, by the flowering of your newfound desire. Yes--do not think for a minute that I consider you an unwilling captive, my dear, even if your hands are tied and your mouth is gagged. I know the female psyche. I know what complicated creatures we are. You are being a little slut and you are loving it, aren't you? Well, there are punishments for little sluts, as you well know. You were not waiting for me, with your bottom showing and your legs apart, were you? You were waiting for my husband." Mistress' eyes narrowed. Tabitha's widened, her cheeks blushed. But she could not counter what Mistress was saying, could not even plead for mercy. "My husband, you little slut." Mistress gazed at the naked girl. "Like this!" Mistress cried. Mistress raised her hand. She brought it down hard on Tabitha's bottom. Slap! went Mistress' hand on the quivering ball of flesh. Tabitha screamed, but the gag drowned her cry. Mistress stood erect. She gazed at the girl. A red hand-print formed on Tabitha's ass as the girl squirmed on the bed. "How like a snake you look," Mistress said to the slim young wife. "How like a captive little snake, with your long hair and your long naked legs, your slim back, and your arms stretched out in front of you. Only your pretty round ass gives you away, and the lumps where your twin breasts loom under your chest." Mistress reached for Tabitha's head. She curled a finger in the girl's long hair. Then she yanked on it. Tabitha let out a shriek as she felt her hair pulled. "I can be unaccountably cruel," Mistress said to Tabitha. "Crueler even than my husband, for being a female I know the female body better than any man ever could. And I don't cherish it as much, you know? Men always temper their blows with love. They are lusting after you even as they do the most horrid things to you. But not me. However much I admire your beauty, you are, in the end, a rival to me. A competitor. So I can punish you with a jealous eye, with jealousy that a man would never feel. And you should know, my little sweet whore, my suburban, nice-girl wanna-be whore, that I believe in torture. That is when the body feels most alive, when it is balanced on the knife edge of utter ruin. That is when you transcend all the mundane things of life and become a living, breathing, tribute to life, to human flesh, to human emotion, to all the things we humans try so hard to repress. It is hard to repress oneself when one is stretched taut on the rack, feeling a whip cut deep into your flesh." Mistress let go of Tabitha's hair. She fiddled with the knot holding the girl's gag to the back of her head. She loosened it. Then, reaching for Tabitha's face, she pulled the cloth, now wet with Tabitha's saliva, from her mouth. The girl gulped. Speechlessly she opened her lips. She worked her jaw, enjoying its sudden freedom. "You think I am being generous?" Mistress said. "I am not." She lifted the gag to Tabitha's eyes. Tabitha uttered a wail. Mistress re-bound the cloth over the girl's fluttering lashes, so that she could not see. Then, picking up the teddy bear, Mistress jammed a leg of the bear into Tabitha's mouth. She was in darkness now, silenced by the bear she had lately spanked, her own bottom now warm where Mistress' hand had slapped it. Tabitha felt her breasts pressing into the sheet underneath her. The nipples were hard, like twin points of excited fire. Slowly, listening to her breathing, with her mind screaming at her to stop, Tabitha scissored open her legs. "Ah! The door of love opens again!" Mistress chuckled. "Would you like me to shove the whip handle up you there, or are you still waiting for my husband?" Mistress asked. The girl blushed. She pressed her face, with the bear in her mouth, to the sheet. She felt her saliva wetting the bear's leg. She had no idea why she'd opened her legs again, only that she'd felt she must. She had an undying need there, a burning, an emptiness that longed to be filled. Like last night, when Taylor had taken her on the floor of the parlor. Also, she reasoned, her mind coming up with logical excuses for her emotional act, she hoped to offer her cunt in compensation. In compensation for the whip that would otherwise belabor her bottom. "Do you think I am heartless, my dear?" Mistress said to the girl, interrupting her thoughts. Her voice was suddenly soft, caring, as it had been when she'd first entered the room. "I will prove to you that you are a little slut, and not the helpless captive you fancy yourself as," Mistress told the young wife. She glanced again between the girl's legs, at the offered slit, at the moistness of the petals. She smiled. She walked across the room. There was a bureau there, all polished hardwood and gleaming brass handles. She bent down. She opened the bureau's bottom drawer. "Here. Here they are," Mistress said. She pulled out a blouse. White gloves. A skirt. A pair of panties and a white bra. She took shoes from the bottom drawer, and little frilled socks. She put them atop the bureau. "Here are clothes that would fit you exactly, or perhaps be a fetching size too small," Mistress said. "In fact they are the same clothes you had torn from you last night, by Taylor, in the bathroom. The same make and cut I mean, not the same exact clothes, which you so, inconveniently for yourself, ripped to shreds. Here they are and here they have been since you fell asleep in this room, last night. Rene came in and measured you, surreptitiously, not waking you. Then she stitched the clothes together from cloth we keep handy, for just such a purpose. She stayed up to do it, so that you would have something to wear this morning. But instead you let yourself be brought down to breakfast naked. Oh yes there were crisp commands, and orders, but still you might have found the clothes and put them on anyway, either before breakfast or after, when you were sent again to your room. But instead you laid naked on the bed, didn't you? You never even looked for the clothes. You let Rene find you naked and then Taylor too, and you let him tie you and gag you. And now look at you, blindfolded so that you cannot even see the clothes I am showing you, with a teddy bear in your mouth!" Tabitha spit out the bear's fuzzy leg. Mistress walked over to her and yanked open her lips and jammed it back in. She patted the girl's head. "Not so fast, little one," Mistress said. "One cannot eternally be given choices. You will keep that bear in your mouth and you will lie here and think of your sinful ways, of your bad behavior. And you will keep your legs open. No closing them, anymore. I'll inform my husband you're ready. Yes. You may have him, you little slut. Go ahead, tease him with your pretty bare ass, and your temptingly parted legs. See what he gives you for your trouble. And I'll see you when he's through, and give you a taste of my own medicine." She laughed. "You'll be the best-behaved wife when you leave here. Ready to go home to your husband, and serve him sexually, whatever his pleasure. And when he has satiated himself with you, then you will be ready to be a mother." Tabitha listened as Mistress left the room, her skirts bustling with her footsteps, all soft-moving silk and luxury. She lay on the bed. She felt the blindfold against her eyes and the bear, the bear she dared not spit out, in her mouth. She squirmed atop the pillows. How exposed she felt! Yet she kept her legs open, stretching them, wanting to close them and yet at the same time longing to keep them open, letting her heartfelt desire win. New footsteps. Tabitha sighed. Was it a man at last, not Taylor, who had rejected her, and not her husband who had abandoned her, but the man who was undoubtedly a man, because he leered at her-- Master. Tabitha felt his name on her tongue, pressed down though it was by the bear's intruding foot. She gasped as she sensed the person, whoever it was, coming through her doorway. There she was! Displayed in all her feminine glory. Her legs apart, her slit wet, her bottom round and moulded like a ripe peach. Her back straight, if horizontal. Her hair tumbling down from her head to half-cover her back. Her face hidden, modestly, behind her wreathing hair. The blindfold tied with a knot at the back of her head. "Ah, a treasure!" Tabitha heard a male voice boom. It was close, right by her. She squirmed, like a squirrel caught out under the sky, hearing thunder. A calloused hand pressed down on her ass. It stilled her hips. It massaged her flesh, her bare bottom flesh, between rough fingers. Tabitha felt possessed. Taken. She eased her legs apart more, even as one of the fingers probed rudely between her cheeks. "I'm afraid I do not desire what you are offering me," the male voice, the all-knowing voice of Master, told Tabitha. "Your cunt, I mean. It is small and sweet, and very tight-looking. A perfect gash for a man to sink himself into. But I am not interested in your cunt." Tabitha let out a squeak. The finger inquiring in her ass dug into her hole. "I prefer the bottom," Master told her. "I like to put things up the behind, even though, perhaps because, it was only ever designed to expel things." Master twisted his finger. Tabitha shouted. She snapped her legs shut. But the finger was in her rear-end. Except for squeezing her cheeks, she could not get it out. "You said something?" Master asked her. He reached for her head with his free hand. He lifted her hair. "Oh, there's a bear in your mouth," Master laughed. "You suck on his leg. Your lips, are they pressed to his bottom? I think they are!" Tabitha, already blushing, felt her cheeks grow redder. Meanwhile the finger up her ass probed more deeply between her pale hams. She was stuck, fore and aft, like a pig on a spit. Only her cunt remained untouched, unviolated. She opened her legs again, offering it, praying Master would prefer it to the place he was now in. Down the hall there was a shout. It sounded like Taylor. A female voice, distantly, laughed at Taylor's distress. "You do not understand, my dear," Master said to Tabitha. "This place, it is not about sex. Oh, some sex may occur, incidentally. But here we are about pain. About control. About surrender. You are not called Miss Cunt. You are called Miss Bottom. There is a reason for that. I am going to lubricate your ass now, with vaseline. Because when I am through whipping you I am going to force myself into you there. In your behind. Of course the behind is much more sensitive than the cunt and I may tear you. I may cause you injury, ripping the lining of your colon with my penis. It cannot be helped. Also, your sphincter feels very tight. The muscle resists me. The muscle, I mean, that is the ring of flesh at the entrance to your back door. It may be torn." Tabitha spit out the bear's leg. "No!" she gasped, her lips feeling quivery from having the leg stretching her mouth for so long, her anus even now being stretched, by Master's burrowing finger. "Lie still," Master ordered. "I am getting the vaseline. If you do not wish to have the bear in your mouth at this moment, so be it. But do not resist my finger in your bottom. Open yourself, do not tense your cheeks. I am going to lubricate you and then we are going to have a session with the whip, the vaseline in your ass all the while reminding you of what is to come, while the whip hurts your cheeks." He sat on the bed. It was soft, the covers pulled down to let him enjoy the silk sheets. His penis stood up between his legs. It throbbed, thick and stiff, a lance waiting for battle. His balls felt heavy. They ballooned under his cock. His strong hairy thighs pressed against them, making them swell even more. The bed, supporting his balls, seemed to heft them, as if his testicles were prize nuts at a fair. Mistress walked in. Immediately Taylor gaped at her, not wanting to, yet doing it. His mouth agape, he openly admired, even drooled over, the swell of her naked breasts. They were big breasts, with a large pink nipples. As he gazed at her tits the nipples sprouted appreciatively. Mistress smiled. They were ready, both of them. Taylor felt his spit drop onto his groin. He blushed. "Lie back, dear. I want you to be comfortable," Mistress told Taylor. "You're not going to torture me, then?" Taylor asked. A vision of himself humping Mistress, very hard and traditionally, flitted through his mind. He grinned. "I'm afraid I am going to torture you, very badly," Mistress replied. "But that doesn't mean you can't be comfortable while I do it. After all, it's your penis I'll be focusing on today. The rest of yourself can enjoy the luxury of my bed." Taylor lay back. He let his head rest on a silk-sheathed pillow. He felt the sheets against his back, his buttocks, his legs. It felt wonderful. It smelled wonderful, for the sheets were perfumed. Mistress went to a cabinet. Taylor opened his legs. He felt his balls sag, with their enormous virility, upon the bed. His penis stood up erect. It waited dumbly for whatever might happen. Mistress took a wire from the cabinet. It gleamed at Taylor. It was polished, with a polished round tip, thinner than a pencil. Taylor saw that a cord was attached to the wire. The cord ran to a box that Mistress took from the cabinet. "What's that?" Taylor gasped. Mistress smiled. She brought the box and wire over to him and laid the box down on the bed. "It's for your penis," Mistress told Taylor. "I want you to wear it." "You want me to wear a wire?" Taylor asked. He might have thought she would give him a jock strap, perhaps even a jock strap with a hole in it, if she planned to dress him, to costume him. "Yes, its an electrical wire," Mistress told Taylor. "You'll wear it and then we'll play. I may have to tie your hands. Your legs too. How luscious it will be to have everything focussed right on your cock, and me giving it a charge whenever I please!" Taylor gasped. "A- A charge?" he stammered. Mistress began to wrap the wire around the root of his penis. "Yes, an electrical charge. A shock. It will be like you're in the electric chair, except only your dick will be connected. It is the most sensitive part of the male body, isn't it? Or is that your balls?" "My- My balls," Taylor answered truthfully. Mistress bent the wire downwards. She touched just the tip of it to Taylor's testicles. Then she reached over to the box. Very lightly, as if switching off a blow-drier or some kitchen appliance, she touched the button on top of the box. "YEEEEOW!" Taylor shouted. He felt as if his testicles were an instant light bulb. The shock coursed through both his nuts, and up to the root of his dick. He groaned in pain. "Just a taste," Mistress smiled. "Imagine having the whole wire wrapped around you." Rene walked into the room. "Mistress," the maid said. "Not now, Rene. I'm busy," Mistress answered. The woman stared a moment, at the handsome young man laid out on the bed, a wire being wrapped around his penis. Then she turned and left. At the same moment a shout came from down the hall. Taylor looked at Mistress. "Tabitha," Mistress replied. "She will hear you while you hear her. Lovely, isn't it?" Mistress slowly wrapped the wire up the length of Taylor's dick. He watched, fascinated and yet repelled. In a moment his whole cock would feel the pain his balls had felt, and he couldn't imagine how he would stand it. Yet there was no question of his erection diminishing. He was young, excited beyond belief, and no more in control of his stiffness than he had been last night, when he presented himself at the door. There was some wire left over when Mistress had Taylor completely wrapped. He wondered what she would do with it. Would she just let the current expire there, perhaps showering sparks into the air like some Fourth-of-July sparkler? Mistress grinned at Taylor. "This little bit at the end goes into your pee hole," she told him. "No!" Taylor yelled. Then he watched, spellbound, as Mistress inserted the end of the wire into his dick. He was grounded, fore and aft, the wire running all the way up him and ending inside him! "Ready?" Mistress asked. Her finger hovered over the button. "Will it hurt?" Taylor asked, stupidly, staring at his wire-wrapped organ. He looked like a present for some kinky sex ball. "Of course it will hurt, darling. That's its purpose," Mistress cooed. "Try not to cum when you feel the first jolt. Remember, if you can stand this, I'll let you have me." "In- in your cunt," Taylor said, looking over at Mistress for agreement. "Of course in my cunt," Mistress said. "My bottom is reserved for my husband." Down the hall, Tabitha was feeling decidedly sluttish. Her bottom hole was oiled now. It was all wet and slimy-feeling. The inside of her gut was cold, because the vaseline had been cold. Meanwhile the bare cheeks of her ass were untouched, with only the warm handprint where Mistress had slapped her. She blinked. Master had removed her blindfold. She did not know why. She wished for it again, seeking solace in its darkness Master walked over to the nightstand. He examined the items there. As he did so he took a kleenex and wiped off his finger. He pulled it from the drawer in the nightstand. He used it to wipe the finger he had anointed Tabitha's butthole with. Then Master reached for the whip. Tabitha gasped. He picked up the item, holding it by its polished handle. He flicked it. The leather snapped, danced. Tabitha's eyes followed the tip, frightened, her teeth suddenly biting her lower lip. Master noticed. He reached for her mouth and pried it apart. He stuffed the gag into her mouth. "You will bite off your tongue if you don't have this," Master told her. He checked her lower lip to make sure it wasn't bleeding. Then, letting her frightened eyes follow him, he walked a pace down the bed to her bottom. "Now we shall begin," Master told her. "When you reach the height of your agony I will pull your gag off and let you scream your lungs out. So Taylor can hear you, even as you hear him. You may scream together. You will not need the whip then, so don't expect it. Just let your emotions go as you feel the inexplicable pain I've caused you. Then I will re-gag you and shove myself up your ass. You'll need the gag then. Like I said, you may well feel yourself torn by my entry." He paused. He swung the whip to and fro, gazing at her nakedness. "After you have earned your stripes, and been opened, do not expect to be doing much," Taylor told her. "You will hurt terribly. Sitting will be out of the question and having a bowel movement will be unpleasant, to say the least, depending on how much damage you take. People have been known to get feverish after a sound thrashing and to require several days rest. In bed, like an invalid. Of course you will be cared for. You will be like a young mother, with your bottom as your pink baby. You will be given every consideration. Spoiled even, like a child gorged on ice cream after having her tonsils out. Some girls go through with a whipping just to earn what follows: the attention, the praise, the loving caresses and the open admiration. But whatever your reasons, I want you to enjoy every stroke. Yes, enjoy! You are free now. Free of clothes, free of conventions, free of restrictions. You may scream, yell, cry, even pee in your bed if you like. Rub your legs together and pray for an orgasm. You are a bottom now. A bottom and a well-oiled ass hole. And a prettily wet-lipped cunt. You are nothing but your breath, your tears, your gasps and your screams. And your quivering flesh. Everything else you ever were is going to be beaten out of you now." Tabitha was so frightened she felt like retching. Then, suddenly, the whip struck. It burned her skin. She shrieked. Any thoughts besides reacting to the pain were driven from her. Again the whip fell, before she even had time to gulp in a breath. A new stripe of pain seared her. Her eyes gaped wide. She stared at her bound wrists. She scissored her legs open, closed, open again, her hips wriggling on the pillows. SWWWWIIIIP! A new blow, a new gagged-off scream. Tabitha forgot everything now, as she squeezed shut her eyes, feeling only the pain in her throbbing bottom. It hurt! She wanted to get up and run. But instead the whip fell yet again, stinging her flesh like a violent bee, unappeased by what it had already inflicted upon her. Mistress fitted the rubber bit into Taylor's mouth. Then she wrapped a gag over his lips. "You will need this," Mistress told Taylor. "But when you've been broken I'll take it off, so Tabitha can hear your screams." She caressed his hair. She reached for the little box on the bed. Her finger depressed the button. Taylor, gaping at his cock, his hands tied to the bedposts, screamed. Mistress smiled. It was going to be a long session, she hoped. She reached between Taylor's legs. She felt his balls. He lay shuddering from his first shock. Her finger was off the button now, but ready to hit it again. "Ah, how full you are!" Mistress complimented Taylor. "I suspect you could spurt and still have something left over. But try not to. I want you screaming with lust even as you scream from the shocks I'm giving you. And now, my dear, here's another." Back in the other bedroom, Tabitha was receiving her strokes. Master admired her reddening ass. He was placing the stripes like a surgeon, careful not to hit the same place twice lest he make her bottom bleed prematurely. Each stroke caused an immediate welt. He admired the ridges. They rose from the pale surrounding skin, the redness of them making Tabitha look as if her bottom were being wrapped in red ribbons for Christmas. As for the girl herself, she was crying. The bit of reserve she'd showed at the start, holding her tears back, had crumbled. He had expected it; new girls were never very good at keeping control of themselves. He did not chastise her for her tears. But he did not let up on her bottom either, working the soft rubbery spheres with his whip like a man skinning an animal, treating her, indeed, as nothing less or more than captured prey. Tabitha was nearly insensible now, as the whip continued to lash her. She thought of pirates, in her agony, and of a man strung up and whipped before everyone on the deck, under the hot sun. Somewhere in her mind she realized that pirates, awful as they were to each other, would never have whipped a woman. Yet here she was, bound and gagged, being treated worse than BlueBeard himself would have treated her. Did she deserve this? Was this what women in the new century had been reduced to, no longer modest ladies but naked whores? Tabitha felt her tears rush out more profusely than ever. And the whip kept up its blows, merciless in its treatment, making her bottom feel as if it had been kissed by the sun itself. Once she managed to flip over. The pain was indescribable as her buttocks, all striped and red, pressed against the piled-up pillows. Master rewarded her for her effort by giving her a hard blow across her belly. Immediately Tabitha, caterwauling like a new-branded calf, flipped back onto her stomach, now feeling the mark Master had just given her there. Her exposed bottom felt the whip anew. Down the hall, Taylor was suffering. Each light touch of MIstress' finger, on the box, sent a new current of pain through his dick. He thought he couldn't stand any more. He screamed. His mind was reeling. His dick felt like a quivering pole of fire. Again the shock, again the flinching mindless blaze of electricity up the whole length of his dick, and down into his pierced pee hole. In the yard, Rene was trimming the hedges. Her bright shears flashed. She listened for screams from the house, heard nothing, shook her head. It was just as well. If she could hear, the neighbors might hear, despite the tall, thick pines lining the back yard. Then suddenly she did hear, just a little, beyond the closed windows. A female shrieking, a man yelling. The gags had been removed. The punishments were at an end, except for the pure ungagged agony of two souls yelling out their displeasure. Rene smiled. She thought of her relatives in the fields, picking crops. Their work was not as painful as what those two had just suffered. "Good," Rene remarked to herself. "Let the Yanquis play their games, and enjoy their pleasures, if they will also inflict that sort of thing on each other. Maybe someday they will go too far, and they will all die." Minutes passed. Master stood and watched Tabitha. He stood unmoving, enjoying the spectacle of her distress. Finally, after many minutes, Tabitha began, between her screams, trying to tell Master something. He gazed at her, at her tears, then placed the whip back on the nightstand. As he moved to the nightstand he felt relaxed and carefree. He was looking forward to unzipping himself. He would give her a new pain to think about. Then he realized, as Tabitha's screams subsided, that she was telling him she had to go to the bathroom. Master laughed. "I told you that you could pee in your bed," Master replied. "But--ahhhh! Ohhhh! I don't wish to!" Tabitha squealed. She wriggled her hips and shouted at the way the movement caused new pains in her bottom. "Very well, then. If you insist on not doing it in your bed, you'll do it another way," Master replied. "A way that's even more shameful than pissing in your bed." Rene looked up. She heard a sash lifted. There was a billowing of curtains as the breeze caught them and pulled them out of the second floor of the house, the ends of them, making them flutter and look like banners announcing the presence of a queen. Instead what Rene saw was a bottom. A naked, red whipped bottom, quivering and tensing as it was forced through the window. From this bulbous cheeky display a trail of urine suddenly sprouted. It fell through the air, all the way down the wall of the house, and splashed the hedge Rene was trimming. The maid stepped back. She shook her head. She looked up at the naked, female ass, so rudely displayed, so nastily peeing! She shook her fist at it. In a little while the offering of urine ceased. The bottom was yanked back inside. The window was closed. And then Rene smiled. For she knew that, however much the girl had suffered, she was in for still worse. For if she had gotten worse already, she would have offered sperm, from her bottom hole, as well as pee from her cunt. Within the bedroom, Master was holding Tabitha by her arm. She resisted him, jerking away, or trying to, but he held her tight. "Now get back on the bed," Master told Tabitha. "Face down, hips over the pillows. I'm going to fuck your ass." "I- I need a drink first," Tabitha gasped. "A drink?" Master asked. "Y- Yes. I'm thirsty," Tabitha answered. She looked at him with tear-filled eyes. With her free hand she reached back and lightly touched her behind, then gasped. "Well, I suppose you've earned a drink," Master said. "But don't expect me to give you a quick glass of water. We'll drink, both of us, downstairs, in my study. I will sit. You, obviously, will stand. And I will have wine and you will have whole milk." "Whole milk?" Tabitha wrinkled her nose. It was strange to be protesting about milk, given what she'd just endured, but she wanted wine. Wine to make her dizzy, to make her forget. "Yes, milk," Taylor said. "Given how tight your butthole felt, when I stuck my finger up it, you may as well have it. I think I've felt less resistance from 10-year-olds. No wonder your husband needs help! You will have milk, just like the little tight-assed child you are. And then, when you're done drinking it, we'll get to work making you a properly receptive wife." He yanked on her arm again. She sulked. He wanted to slap her, to show his mastery of her. But before he could, she slipped from his loosening grasp. Her slender arm slid out of his fingers. She turned. He laughed, harshly, "Besides, milk is good for your complexion." He watched her walk. She walked in front of him, her head bowed, her hair swaying across the slender expanse of her back. Below her tight waist her bottom bulbed. He gazed at it. Despite the punishment it had suffered it moved with svelte undulation, the pendulum of her hips rolling the cheeks first one way, then the other, in a delicate, circular motion. He watched the gracefulness of her steps. Even now each step was dainty and perfect, awesomely feminine, despite the fact that each step brought a gasp of pain from her as her skin was stretched tautly across her reddened behind. He looked at the marks she bore. His marks. He had placed them there one by one, each eliciting a cry of pain from her. Tabitha felt Master's eyes on her ass. She still didn't know his name, only the firmness of his hand. She turned her head, slightly. Despite the pain in her bottom she managed to say, "Do you love me?" "What?" Master replied. She reached the landing and carefully took hold of the bannister. "Do you love me?" she asked again. She did not dare to look at him. He felt big and omnipotent, a presence she dared not anger. He loomed behind her. He stared at her chastised behind. Nonetheless, without looking at him, she turned her head, letting him hear her soft voice. "Do I love you?" he asked. He laughed. "No, I do not love you. I am a married man. I love my wife." He cleared his throat, wondering if he were telling the truth. Then, to reinforce what he just said, to show her how careless he was of her, he added, "Last night I fucked three girls. Today I am fucking you. Tomorrow it will be somebody else. I am using you. I am using your ass. You are just an animal to me. A sexy little animal, but an animal all the same. Why does a man keep a dog? Because it amuses him. Or perhaps the dog can be of service. The man does not keep the dog for the dog's sake, but for his own." She felt a blush in her cheeks. She felt angry. "I am not a dog," Tabitha said. She hurried down the steps. He followed. "My study is on the right," Master told her. "I will be with you shortly." She followed his directions. She found the study and went into it. It was dark. It had no windows. The panelling was wood, dark brown. She gazed at shelves full of books. She turned, away from the leather and the wood smell, and gazed at the door she'd come through. She was alone. Immediately her attention turned to her bottom. Ah, how it hurt! Her hands flew back. After a moment, after stiffening at the first touch, she managed to cup her behind. Lightly she stroked it. Each brush of her fingertips brought an agonized moan from her. She felt tears well anew in her eyes. Fifteen minutes ago her ass had been perfect, milk white. Now it was red and wounded. Master came into the study. He held two glasses in his right hand. One was of wine, the other milk. In his left hand, with a leering grin on his face, he held a collar. It was made of white leather. It had a ring in front, where the collar buckled. A ring for a leash. "Here, doggie," Master said. Tabitha frowned. "I'm not a dog. Or a little girl," she said, looking at the milk. "I'm a grown woman. A- A married woman." "In this house you are Miss Bottom," Master answered. "Miss Bottom number six." He put his wine glass down on the desk in the middle of his study. Then he walked over to her. He made her take the milk. With his hands free, and ignoring the quivering thrust of her naked breasts, he put the collar on her. When he was finished he stepped back and looked at her. He looked at all of her, from her collared neck to her jiggling bare tits to her flat, invitingly slim belly. He took in the flare of her hips. He smiled at her mons, so neat and perfect, so triangularly perfect. Finally he stared at the long smooth columns of her naked legs. "Turn around," he said. "But I haven't drunk my milk yet!" she gasped. Master wrenched the glass from Tabitha's hand. Some milk spilled on the carpet. He lifted the glass to her lips, hastily, and with brutal directness he forced her to accept the rim of the glass. He began pouring. Tabitha's lips gasped. Her eyes opened wide. Quickly she swallowed, desperate to keep up with his pouring. He made her take the whole glass. She swooned; the milk was cold. It made her head throb. Master caught her arm and simultaneously threw the glass across the room. It shattered, empty, against a row of leather-bound books. "Now turn around!" Master ordered. "C- Could we not talk?" Tabitha asked. "I do not have conversations with dogs," Master growled. He grabbed her. He took her by her waist. His hands nearly encompassing all of her there and he easily spun her about. He gazed at her bottom. It quivered. It tensed. The line between her cheeks became tightly compressed. "Bend over," Master said. "I- I cannot!" Tabitha shrieked. He pushed her down. Some papers on his desk scattered as her tits plopped upon the desk, followed quickly by her face. She turned her head just in time to have her left cheek slammed upon the desk. Her mouth, shrieking, was warped into a strange shape. She felt her breasts crushed underneath her. His strength was enormous. He used her like one might use a rag doll, despite her resistance. Holding her down with one hand he liberated his cock. He intruded it upon her, wedging it between her cheeks. He forced it in despite the frantic clenching of her bottom. His pre-cum eased the way, aided, traitorously, by a curious wetness that exuded itself, sweatlike, between the cheeks of her hot ass. Had she been capable of admitting anything to herself, as she felt her heart race in her chest, she would have realized that she was terribly excited. He smelled the perfume she'd put on that morning. It made his own heart pound with lust, as his peehole probed deep in her heart-shaped cheeks and found her little sphincter. "I need vaseline," he said gruffly. "Or I can just force my way, tearing you as I go." She bit her lip. He was making her compliant again, forcing a perverted agreement from her. "Remain over the desk," he said. "I will get the vaseline." He left the study. She heard his tread as he left. She imagined the wobble of his cock as he walked. It had felt so big! She had not imagined he would be that large. It frightened her. She became more aware of herself, of her trembling body, as she stood there in the silence, waiting over the desk, and she noticed that her jaw hurt. At the same time she was relieved to lift herself a little, just a little, to ease the pressure of the wood upon her breasts. He returned. As she heard him enter she cast a quick glance back. A new shriek tore from her throat. In a businesslike manner he was lubricating himself, spreading thick gobs of vaseline up and down the length of his trembling, frightfully hard member. And, behind him, walking with a straight back and an easy poise, her breasts swinging freely, quite as naked as Tabitha but utterly nonplussed about it, was Mistress. In her hand, dangling by straps, she carried a large rubber dildo. "I will fuck you, and then my wife will have you," Master informed Tabitha. "No!" Tabitha screamed. Mistress smiled. "Your bottom must be opened, dear, thoroughly and completely. This is only the first of many such fuckings you will receive here. You must learn to get used to them. You must submit to them as easily as you might submit to having a shot." Tabitha hated shots. But Mistress walked around to the other side of the desk, where she still foolishly pressed her face against the wood, and prised apart Tabitha's jaws. She inserted the head of the dildo into Tabitha's mouth. "Suck. It will protect your teeth from biting your tongue and at the same time you may prepare yourself, mentally, for having it up your bottom," Mistress told Tabitha. "In addition to which," she smiled, a nice bit of your saliva on it will make it all the more slippery." The dildo was not yet lubricated, save for the spit which Tabitha's mouth now deposited on it, but Master was ready. He presented himself to her and pressed hard. She felt him drive in. Her cheeks split upon him, and then he encountered her last defense, her small tight-mouthed sphincter. He was in no mood now to wait. His hands upon his cock had driven him to a fever pitch of desire. He shoved. She screamed and drew herself tighter. Her ass clenched upon him, as if trying to keep him there, in the crevice of her bottom. Indeed this is exactly what she was doing, but it was not to keep him from leaving her. Rather it was to keep him from going in deeper. With a grunt Master drew back and gave a new shove. Tabitha screamed, the dildo warping her cry. She barely held him back. Just then Taylor walked into the room. His cock was stiff. A ring was around his penis, clenching it, making the blood pool in the furthermost part of his dick and turning the knob of his cock all purple. Tabitha blushed when she realized it was him. "I-- I can't stand this anymore," Taylor confessed to Mistress. With a finger Mistress beckoned Taylor over to her. She reached down and loosened his cock ring. Taylor sighed with relief. "In a moment I'll put a second one around your balls," Mistress told Taylor. "Oh, God," Taylor gasped. "What is it?" Mistress asked. "I have to pee also," Taylor confessed. He wriggled his hips with need. His cock waggled in front of Tabitha's eyes. "Pee here," Mistress said. "What?" Taylor asked. "Right here. Right in her face," Mistress said. She pointed to Tabitha, still holding the dildo so that Tabitha could not expel it from her mouth. With a mischievous grin, Taylor took aim at Tabitha's face. She shouted to him not to do it, but the dildo in her mouth made her words come out all mangled. It was no matter, Taylor would not have been dissuaded from this boyish prank even if he had understood her. With Mistress patting his bottom with her free hand, he pissed. "Nooooooo!" Tabitha bleated. At that moment, feeling Taylor's piss splash in her face, she forgot about her bottom. Master welcomed the distraction. He shoved himself hard against her. He entered, abruptly, thrusting past the ring of muscle guarding Tabitha's innermost place. Tabitha shrieked when she realized what had happened. But there was no stopping Master now. He burrowed deep. Tabitha haplessly clenched her bottom on him but her defenses were breached. Her tightness only served to heighten Master's enjoyment. Taylor's pee lessened. At last it stopped. He gave a sigh of satisfaction. Turning to Mistress he asked if he might try his own luck with Tabitha, when Master was finished. "Of course, dear, if you wish," Mistress replied. "She is Miss Bottom. Her bottom exists for our pleasure." 30 --------------------------- Dreamgirls! ------------------------ ----- Back issues (and stories): http://www.deja.com/ Search by typing: roller666@earthlink.net Don't forget to click on "Power Search". Change "standard" archive to "complete" archive. ----- Other providers: Eli the Bearded: http://www.netusa.net/files/Authors/eli/www/erotica/assm/ Art's Erotic Stories and Photos: http://www.eroticstories.com Anya's Lil' Hideaway: http://www.insatiable.net/ Usenet Newsgroup: alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- Great books by David Hamilton: The Age of Innocence, A Place in the Sun, Twenty Five Years of an Artist. By Jock Sturges: Radiant Identities Need a book? http://www.amazon.com ----- Great sites: http://www.nambla.org http://www.AlessandraSmile.com -----Naughty Naked Dreamgirls (Library of Congress ISSN: 1070-1427) is copyright 1999 by Andrew Roller. Naughty Naked Dreamgirls and NND are trademarks of Andrew Roller. All rights reserved. ----- Visit me at: http://home.earthlink.net/files/Authors/Roller/www666/index.html -----END OF story EMISSION [Note: the above posting was discovered by me in an obscure place on the Internet. I am redistributing it to alert those who posted it to the fact that holy joe is still alive, and watching to see that his holy name is not corrupted by various hackers posting under his name. - h.j.] [p.s. I am especially peeved by the sensationalistic heading under which this posting was made. - h.j.] -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: | | FAQ: Moderator: | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |Archive: Hosted by Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository | |, an entity supported entirely by donations. | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+