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Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
BORDELLO GIRLS
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Chapter Eight
I will never forget that scene. The men yelping, groaning, as the
milking machine did its work. Melissa and I and Rose got behind them and
entertained their buttocks with whips. We slashed away as they were
denuded in front, stripped of their manhood by the machine. It took from
them their hard-ons, squeeze by gripping squeeze. The guy worried about
his safety came first, squirting into the vacuum, then another guy, my
Lancelot third. The machine pumped them relentlessly, not noticing. At
last the Black Knight came. I admired his fortitude. I rewarded him with
stinging slaps of my bare hand upon his ass, to make sure he got all his
seed out. He scared me. He enthralled me. I squeezed his testicles until
they felt loose in my hands. And then, at last, Melissa herself flicked the
switch off. We separated the men from the machine. We were merciful.
We trotted them downstairs and helped them into their clothes. We did
not uncuff them until the very end. Then, the storm having abated, we
called a cab for them and sent them away.
But I could not forget the Black Knight. Melissa and Rose and I
loitered amidst the close-packed snowdrifts, cozy in our sometime
whorehouse. We took no additional customers. A week passed, two. Yet I
remembered the Black Knight still, wanted him, and not in a milking
machine this time, and not cuffed with police handcuffs. I wanted to meet
him female to man, both of us free, and joust with him on equal terms.
I went shopping. I looked for him in the little town, high in the alps
amidst the snowdrifts. And, standing within the doorway to a lingerie
store, I spotted him. He had a woman with him. I did not care. I ran,
called out. I caught at my fur cap to keep it from flying off. He turned. I
fell into his arms. My breath hot on his chest, I looked up at him. My
cheeks were rosy. Our eyes gazed at each other for eternal seconds.
ÒYes?Ó he asked at last. I was without words. ÒCome,Ó he said at
last. He put me between himself and the woman and they took me home
with them.
We did not arrive within the hour. He placed me in his car, in the
front seat, the woman on the passenger side of me, he in the driverÕs seat.
It was a rental car. He drove down winding hills to an airport. We stopped
twice at roadside inns to use the toilet.
Getting in the car after the second stop, the woman broke her
silence. She had said nothing. She could not speak English well, the Black
Knight had explained to me. HeÕd asked me about my past, hinted at his.
He said little about the woman. I sensed she was his mistress. Her name,
I was told, was Elegina. His was Martin. He was German, she was
Swedish, with lovely blonde hair like mine. His was black. He had Spanish
blood intermingled with his Nazi heritage.
ÒTake off your panties,Ó Elegina said, breaking her silence. I looked,
glanced at her in the tightly packed car, the three of us squeezed in
together. ÒTake off your panties,Ó she repeated. I glanced at the Black
Knight, at Martin. He said nothing, gazed ahead at the road, driving.
Trembling, aware of the beautiful Swedish woman as she gazed at me,
glared at me, I slipped my fingers beneath the fur fringe of my miniskirted
overcoat. Up they slid, along my thigh. I found the him of my leather
miniskirt and slipped within. Higher up, I found my crouch, my pussy-
pouch, sheathed in the fine silk of my panties.
I tugged. I lifted my hips slightly off the seat, tugging at the slip of
fabric between my legs. I drew off my panties. Carefully I freed them
from the spikes of my high heels. They were expensive, from France. I
passed them to the Swedish woman. She held them aloft a moment, a hint
of my scent tickling her nose. Then she rolled down her side window. She
tossed my panties out of the speeding car. ÒYou will not need them,Ó she
said simply.
We drove on. We arrived at an airport. There was a helicopter
waiting. We were ushered aboard, the whirling helicopter blades whipping
at my coat, threatening to lift up my skirt up behind me.
I settled into a seat, again between Elegina and Martin. The trip was
silent. We changed planes a half-hour later. A jet this time. Again the
same seating, more talk this time, a pleasant hostess served us
sandwiches, drinks. We flew over the alps and down past the tip of Italy.
The plane banked left, headed out into the sparkling blue sea of the
Mediterranean.
ÒYou will like my villa,Ó Martin said to me. ÒIt is in Egypt. There
are trees, sand. There are neighbors nearby. It is located at an oasis.Ó
I fell asleep on the plane with my head on MartinÕs shoulder. I
dreamed of Arabs, Lawrence of Arabia. My legs shifted inside my dress. I
was conscious in my dreams that I wore no panties.
We disembarked. A limo whisked us away, the three of us in the
back seat. We enjoyed drinks together. I sipped mine. I had left my
friends behind, my parents. I was with strangers. I felt unsure, uncertain.
It had been a schoolgirl lark, looking for him, finding him, running to him.
I fidgeted in my seat. He ignored my fidgetings.
It was night when we arrived at his house. He took me upstairs to a
bedroom. ÒThis will be yours,Ó he said, a father to his daughter. I was
tired, yet frisky. I had jet lag, not from time but from sitting, from being
confined. ÒI have business to attend to,Ó he told me. ÒElegina will see to
you. Obey her.Ó He left then. He turned and left and locked me in my room.
I sat on my bed. I pouted. A bit later a key turned in the door, Elegina
entered.
ÒTake everything off,Ó she told me. ÒYou must bathe.Ó A maid
entered. She was from Russia. She spoke no English at all. She had dark
hair. She ran bath water for me as Elegina watched me undress. I was led
to the tub. I played in the bubbles. There was a rubber duckie there. He
swam with me in the warm water.
The maid made me soap myself. She watched. Then Elegina entered
the bathroom, ordered me out of the tub. Rinsed, patted dry, I was taken
to bed.
I had to put on pajamas. They were like pantyhose, long stockinged,
attached at the crotch. They were made of cotton, striped with gay red
and white candycane stripes. The buttocks had been cut completely away.
My ass bulged through, bare as could be. I admired its whiteness in a
mirror. In front, all had been cut away again, baring my navel, my pussy.
Only the waistband remained, and the stockings, attached by the slim strip
of material that ran under my crotch.
Elegina made me sit on the edge of the bed in my new stockingpants,
my pajamas without any covering for my heinie or pussy. She sat beside
me, clothed as she had been on the plane, and combed my blonde locks. All
was silence. Perhaps she admired me, I could not guess. At last, done
combing, she fitted a large plaid bow to the top of my head. She kissed my
cheek. ÒGet in bed. Morning will be here soon enough,Ó she breathed.
I scrambled across the sheets and lay back upon them. I put my head
upon a cool, soft pillow. It was comforting. The covers were tucked up
around me by the maid. Elegina fed me a pill to make me sleep. There was
no bedtime story, no need for one. I drifted off at once.
A rustling of my shoulder. ÒGet up.Ó The voice was EleginaÕs. I
lifted my shoulders up, felt the covers pulled down off me in the cool of
the morning. There was brightness in the room, sunlight. I blinked the
sleep from my eyes. Elegina drew me by my legs to the edge of the bed. I
swung my feet down, barely touched my toes to the floor. She admired my
long stockinged legs. There were shoes waiting on the floor, new and
shiny and black, with silver buckles. The maid fitted me into the shoes as
Elegina watched. She held a switch in her hand. She flicked it idly across
her bare thigh. She wore a short skirt, made of chamois. Her legs were
bare to her knees, where moccasin boots proceeded to grip them down to
her ankles, her toes. A beige blouse, her breasts shifting within it,
covered her above the waist. She wore no bra. There was a small rope
tied about her neck, slim, braided from strands of soft leather. It looked
like a cheap dogÕs collar on an animal nobody wanted to buy a real collar
for. She did not seem to mind. Puppies sometimes wore collars like that,
I realized. Perhaps she was MartinÕs pet, a special status, somewhere
below mistress but above that of a whore. What was I, then? A mere
tart? Surely I had presented myself to Martin that way at RoseÕs. Was I
still that?
I shifted my toes within my new shoes. Elegina made me stand.
ÒCome,Ó she said. We walked from the room.
ÒI have no clothes,Ó I said, startled, in my pajamas only, my stocking
pants without the seat or the front to them.
ÒYou have not any need for them,Ó Elegina said. She brought me to
Martin. He waited by the stairs. He took us downstairs to the living room.
I felt awkward passing through it, myself unclothed, he and Elegina neatly
dressed in casual clothes. Martin wore shorts, a shirt with pockets, an
explorerÕs round-brimmed hat. He held a riding crop in his hand. We went
to the rear of the house. Martin opened the back door and we went out.
The sun was hot. We walked across hot sand. I was grateful for my
new shoes. They protected my feet. We passed several cactus, spiny,
hard. Martin said they were imported from America, growing wild now in
his backyard of sand. A desert stretched out before us. There were trees
in the distance. The heat shimmered across the sand. I walked between
Martin and Elegina, then a little ahead. I was curious. I had never been to
Egypt. A bird flew overhead and I gazed up at it, wondering if it was the
Phoenix. Elegina nudged me in the small of my back. ÒRun ahead,Ó she told
me. ÒShow Martin how you can run.Ó
I glanced over my shoulder at them. Martin watched me stern-faced,
but with a twinkle in his eye. I grinned. I leapt ahead of them, racing
across the sand. I tuckered out quickly. I did not wish to run, I wanted
Martin. The sun beat upon my white skin. I could still make out my even
whiter bikini lines, my breasts and pubis like snow, but they would tan
quickly if I did not reach shelter soon. The trees were ahead. I wanted to
go back to the shelter of the house, but walked quickly toward them
instead. A glance over my shoulder showed Martin still following, his
riding crop in hand. He would not let me go back to the house.
Within another minute I was under the trees. I stopped. They were
still, their branches rustling minutely, the desert air just touching them
with the lightest of caresses. Martin and Elegina came up behind me. ÒGo
on,Ó Elegina said, touching my bottom.
ÒThere are Arabs ahead,Ó I said suddenly, freezing. Camel traders
were watering their steeds at an oasis of water. It shimmered like a
glistening diamond amidst the barren desert.
ÒThey will not bother us,Ó Elegina said. ÒThere is a fence between,
electric. Do you see it there?Ó She pointed. I gazed. Running between the
trees I saw it now, a steel mesh barrier, topped with barbed wire.
ÒCome,Ó Martin urged me. His hand gripped my ass and pushed me
ahead. White-bottomed, shivering despite the heat, I padded across the
sand. It was shaded here.
ÒWhere are we going?Ó I asked.
ÒYou will see,Ó Martin replied. ÒIt is a sport among those of us who
are wealthy.Ó Bottom clenching, my ass wriggling now with a frightened
sense of sensuousness, I made my way across the sand. The traders looked
up, saw me. A man picked up a pair of binoculars.
ÒThey are staring at me,Ó I said, my voice whisper-soft. I clapped
my hands to my bosoms. My pussy remained uncovered.
ÒOf course. You are gorgeous,Ó Martin replied. The Arab women
looked up, saw me. Poor people all, simple nomads. We were from the
north, invading Aryans long after the age of colonialism was supposed to
be past.
ÒTurn around. Show them your ass,Ó Martin said. There was a hint of
racism in his voice. I complied. I could do no else. He placed his hand at
the back of my head and bent me over like a mechanism under test. He was
testing my compliance. I was obedient. The fullness of my bottom was
displayed to them. Elegina ran her hand along the undersides of my cheeks,
the silky inner curves.
WHACK! Robert stung my upturned ass with his crop. I yelped. Like
a child I yelped, spanked by daddy. He did not hit me again. He unzipped
himself and fed me his cock. I gagged on it. It was huge, my nightmare
come true, the bull within me. I tried to tongue it but it was too big to
tongue. I could only absorb it, try to absorb, I told myself. Let it be a part
of you as it jams its way down your throat. DonÕt fight it. It is useless to
fight it.
When he withdrew, I was permitted to stand. His cock pulsed wetly
before me, erect, his seed still safely within his balls. I looked at
Elegina. She had unbuttoned her blouse and taken it off. It was knotted
around her waist. Her breasts, big and round, bounced softly before me
with her every subtle movement.
ÒCome. You must receive your morning enema,Ó Elegina said to me.
ÒWhat?!Ó I was horrified. What did she mean? I turned my head to
Robert. He delivered a stinging cut to my ass with his crop. Wobbly-
cheeked, tears coming to my eyes, I stumbled ahead. And then I saw it.
Laid out on the sand, by our maid perhaps, was a white quilted comforter.
There was a picnic basket beside it, and next to that, a small nozzle and
some tubing. Sitting in a patch of sunlight was a metal container. The sun
was warming it.
ÒCamelÕs milk, diluted with water,Ó Elegina said to me, as if we
were schoolmates on a summer vacation. ÒAn excellent enema.Ó I noticed
she spoke English more easily now. I guessed her earlier incomprehension
had been but feigned, to keep me quiet. Secrets couldnÕt be divulged by a
girl who pretended not to understand. She was an obedient mistress to
Martin. I wondered how long theyÕd been together. For the summer
perhaps, or longer? Martin did not look like a man who kept girls for long.
Perhaps thatÕs what drew me to him. His uncaring, as if I were
disposable, just a chattel.
With trembling knees I allowed myself to drop to the softness of the
comforter. All around was baking hot sand. There was just enough shade
over the comforter to keep us cool, at least until the sun rose higher. A
big tree spread its branches nearby. I was grateful for it. I stayed poised
on my knees, not wanting to go further. I would stay at the edge of the
comforter for the rest of my life, poised between having Martin and not
having him.
The toe of a boot in the cleft of my ass. ÒCrawl forward,Ó Martin
urged, ordered. I dropped to my hands and knees and advanced into the
middle of the blanket. Elegina dropped down beside me. She unlooped the
tubing.
ÒPut your head down,Ó Martin told me. His cock waggled just beyond
the tender incurving of my heinie.
ÒShanÕt we eat first?Ó Elegina asked. Her words saved me. Martin
relented.
ÒAll right,Ó he sighed. He seemed slightly bored by it all. I plopped
down on my heinie, glad to have it safely under me instead of stuck up in
the air. With uncertain eyes I glanced at the tubing, cast aside by Elegina
in favor of sandwiches. The tubing looked wicked. It had a tip that was
small, narrow, perfect for threading a girl right up her ass. I shifted on
my bottomcheeks. Elegina offered me an orange soda. I accepted, sipped
quietly on a straw that protruded from its neck. It was delicious, better
than IÕd ever tasted. I knew the circumstances had much to do with it.
Elegina shifted the picnic basket. There was a pillow. I had not seen
it. It looked soft. It was white like the comforter. Elegina placed it
close to me. From the picnic basket she took a syringe. She pointed it at
me and gave it a little squirt. Fluid shot out at me. I shifted, twisted
away, sitting on my bottom. It missed me. With an air of significance she
laid the syringe on the pillow next to me. I looked at her.
ÒMuscle relaxant,Ó she said quietly, smiling. ÒYou will thank me for
it when the time comes. Tell me when you want it.Ó
I felt a thousand butterflies take flight in my tummy. I ran my
fingers over my belly to try to soothe myself. ÒWhy?Ó I asked simply. I
was sad. I wanted to cry.
ÒBecause I am going to fuck you up your little ass,Ó Martin said to
me. His voice was grave, serious, a ring of laughter in it somewhere. It
brooked no dissent.
ÒNo,Ó I said. He reached for me. I drew myself back from him, still
sitting, still enjoying the softness of the comforter under my bare bottom.
It kept me from sitting on the hot sand underneath.
Elegina caught one of my wrists. Her breasts loomed into my back,
bulging. She was swift. She was a cat prowling for prey. My other wrist
was caught. As I tried to hold my soda steady she pulled them back. I
resisted. It was arm wrestling. Slowly she yanked my wrists behind my
back. I heard a click of metal. Some of my soda spilled on the comforter.
I drew in my breath sharply. The metal of the handcuffs came down
like jaws of fish taking the bait from my fishing pole. First one, then the
other. For each one I gasped. A gasp of my breath in offering.
ÒSit close. I will feed you,Ó Elegina said. She took my soda from me.
I shivered, despite the heat. I let myself be drawn next to her. Gazing at
Martin, at his hardness, I let my head fall upon her shoulder. My blonde
hair interwove itself lightly upon her blonde hair. She smiled. She drew a
little sandwich from the picnic basket and fed it to me. Martin gazed out
across the sand. His member throbbed. ÒThe first couple of times youÕll
need the relaxant,Ó Elegina whispered to me. Girls sharing secrets. ÒHe
would hurt you too much otherwise. He is ruthless when he fucks. And, as
you can see, he is quite large.Ó Yes. I could see. Deep down I knew it was
what had drawn me to him. That and his hardness. Not of penis, but of
mind. I had loved Lancelot, but MartinÕs hardness had won me. The Black
Knight. My Black Knight. Or was I just a fair maiden caught up by the
roadside, to be fucked and then tossed away?
MartinÕs head turned, his eye caught mine. ÒDo not be afraid,Ó he
said to me. ÒI am not ruthless as I once was. But I am demanding. I donÕt
want to fool around trying to get you to relax for me. I want to go right up
you.Ó
Elegina twirled a finger in my hair. ÒDonÕt look so forlorn,Ó she
smiled. ÒArab women beg him every time we go into the city. To be taken
back with him, to be made one of his possessions. And European women
too. But he denies most of them. He doesnÕt care. You won him easily.
You should be proud. Spread your legs so he can admire your pussy. Why do
you keep them clipped together? Open yourself for him. You must learn to
open yourself so you will not need the relaxant after awhile. He will get
you open regardless, do not fight it.Ó She pushed my knees apart with her
hand. I let them fall apart, my legs, let my pussy be seen. Martin gazed at
it, smiled at me, a pirateÕs grin. ÒYou will be fun to open up,Ó he said
simply.
We ate there on the sand, the shade slowly shifting, the Arab nomads
watching. Camels neighed in the distance. One of them mounted another.
We watched, the Arabs watched. Songbirds from the desert, come for the
water at the oasis, flitted among the tree branches above us. One, perhaps
two, perhaps a couple making love and making a nest.
The wind ruffled my hair. There was an elegance to the dinner party,
me still in my altered pajamas, my pussy, my ass showing for the
convenience of my master. Elegina fed me as one might a bird in a cage. I
felt like one, admired, loved, but handcuffed. I could not fly. In my new
black heels I probably could not rise and stand too easily. The heels were
long, sharp. I was a prisoner. My bottomcheeks spread softly on the
comforter. My anus widened somewhere within the cleft, knowing it must,
feeling the softness of the comforter pushing up into it. A more direct
assault would be upon it shortly.
ÒIt is time,Ó Elegina said at last. She took a napkin and wiped
crumbs from my mouth. ÒFinish your soda. It will make your breath
sweet.Ó
ÒNo,Ó I said, but she poked the straw into my mouth. I sucked. I
finished the orange liquid. Cream soda would come next. Up my ass,
though, not into my mouth. Elegina unlocked my hands. Our dinner party
was over. I was surprised at the unlocking. Yet why should I be? Could I
escape? I was a captive still, a European girl out in the desert, far from
home. MartinÕs bulk hovered near. His riding crop lay forgotten nearby. I
did not want him to remember it.
ÒGet on your knees,Ó Martin said. ÒYour beauty is making me
impatient.Ó He put his hand to his cock and rubbed it. Freely he rubbed it,
letting the Arabs watch him. He looked away from me, at them. He
laughed a wicked laugh. He sneered at them.
ÒDo as you are told,Ó Elegina said to me. ÒHere, I will help you. You
are so young to play these games.Ó With loving hands she rolled me off my
bottom and got me on all fours. She laid the syringe aside and put the soft
pillow beneath my head. She pressed my face down onto it. My lips
mouthed the pillow. I hid my eyes within it. I felt my bottom, high rising,
a moon floating above the desert. I felt all eyes were upon it.
ÒLovely,Ó Elegina said, stroking my silky soft flesh. She opened a
sterile napkin packet and swabbed a place down in the intimate
undercheek portion of my ass.
ÒYou can stick it in her thigh if you want, the effect will be the
same,Ó Martin told her.
ÒI know, darling. IÕm a nurse. IsnÕt that why you chose me?Ó Elegina
replied. There was a hint of jealousy in her voice. ÒIt will hurt more here.
The sting will be deeper.Ó I felt a stab then, deep, like a javelin thrust
deep into my girlishness. It was as slim as a stiletto, like an icicle
dropped from the rooftop, impaling the little girl down below. It was my
own innocence that was being impaled, I knew, a Jamaican voodoo doll
with the pins being stuck into it.
Tears welled in my eyes. Elegina noticed them, did not brush them
away. I sniffled. She uncoiled the enema tube. She lubed the tip. Martin
watched, stroking himself aimlessly, caring, not caring, I could not tell.
Workmanlike in her manner, as if about to milk a cow, Elegina got behind
me. She massaged the cheeks of my bottom to help me relax. Then,
parting me rudely, clinically, like a nurse might in a hospital, she stuffed
the tubing up my ass.
Oh, I fought her at first. I tried to close my little anus-mouth
against her. But it was no use, the relaxant was having its effect already.
Up me she went, then farther, following the twists and curves of my
intestines inside me.
Then the fluid was loosed. It flooded in. She controlled the flow
with a little knob. I felt like I was full to bursting, finally. It did not
take long. She kissed my bottom. She withdrew the tube.
The picnic basket was edged up behind me. Martin and Elegina got on
either side of me. ÒReady to empty?Ó Elegina asked. I nodded. They lifted
me bodily. I was seated on the edge of the picnic basket and my bowels
emptied into it. Somehow the basket did not leak. It was lined inside, I
guessed. The fluid gushed from me and at last I sat perched on the edge of
the basket, my lovers holding me, poised between one perversion and the
next.
ÒOnto your knees,Ó Martin said. I was placed back onto all fours, my
head forced down again into the pillow. The basket was taken away.
Martin got behind me, snorting, a monster about to go where no man had
gone before. Into the little earthling, the little earth girl. We have come
to serve girls. That is why we have come to earth. To serve them with
our big cocks.
ÒOooch!Ó I cried out. I balled my fist into my mouth. I felt him
poking at me, then surging within. My anus was sleepy. It opened wide
upon him, drugged. I was desperate to resist but I could not.
Deep, deeper, up me he went. Full inside now, thrusting hard. He
was too hard. He was too vicious. He began to rod me, uncaring, like a dog.
I cried out for him to stop.
ÒOpen, yourself,Ó came to me from somewhere in the distance.
EleginaÕs voice. The words came rippling into me like from a dream. I
seemed to feel him moderate the swiftness of his strokes. Or was it just
the relaxant? In and out he went, Elegina fingering me now, finding my
spot. She rubbed me down below as he porked me in behind, his huge
sausage sawing in and out of me.
I came. Honey moistening my lips, I came. All shuddering I came.
Elegina wanted hers, then. She plopped her bottom onto my pillow, placed
my face right up between her thighs. She lifted her skirt. She wore no
panties. In the stillness of the desert I had not realized her nakedness
underneath. Her waiting pussy she shoved into my face. I licked, I drove
my tongue into her as Martin shoved himself in and out of me from behind.
Three Europeans in the desert, protected by a fence, we blasphemed
ourselves before Allah in the hot sands. Before the followers of Allah.
Khomeini would behead us. In the hot desert he would behead us, with the
songbirds making their nest in the branches above our heads.
Martin finished. He withdrew, his crime against nature done. I felt
his sperm bubbling in my ass. He had injected me with it. His big syringe
had made me take everything he had to give. His balls slowly sagged
beneath him. I was grateful. I hoped they would be long in refilling,
though I knew they would not be. He sat back. He restored himself within
his pants, zipped himself up. Elegina loosed the knot at her belly and
covered herself again with her shirt. ÒGet up, darling,Ó she said. She
stood on the comforter, lifted me. The maid would come later to fetch the
detritus of our picnic.
Stiff-legged, wobbly-bottomed, I rose. I was a newborn yearling
just come into the world. Martin did not look at me. He seemed not to
care. I was just another pet, here today in my youth, gone tomorrow. I
stepped off the comforter. Elegina held my hand. I brushed my hair from
my face. I walked carefully in my high heels. Martin walked ahead. He did
not seem to think of us anymore. We followed, like Japanese women we
followed, faithfully. We walked across the sand back to the house. Inside
it was cool.
ÒGo to your room,Ó Elegina told me. ÒTake a bath when you wish, or
sleep, the maid will bring you food later.Ó
I traipsed up the stairs. My bottom hurt. I was alone, unwanted now.
Master was finished with me for the day. I wished to escape. The Arabs
would feed me and care for me. They would appreciate me. But they were
humble traders, nomads, between here and nowhere, lost in the desert as I
was lost in the huge house, unknowing.
I did not go to my room. I was too young, too curious. I had the blood
of youth in me, mischief. I crept into the library. I sat in masterÕs big
leather chair. I felt my asscheeks open on it. Sperm bubbled from my
rosehole. I did not care. Let his chair be stained. It was his sperm,
anyway.
I slid my pajama pants down off my waist. I wanted my silly
stockings off. I got them to band round the tops of my thighs. I flicked my
pussy. With my pjÕs tight around my legs I flicked myself again. It felt
good. Sitting in masterÕs study playing with myself, staining his chair.
Somehow the feeling of the stocking pants, binding my thighs, all ripped in
front and back to show my pussy, my ass, lowered now, sheathing my legs
up to my thigh tops but leaving all else bare, somehow it thrilled me. I
sat in masterÕs big leather chair and played with myself, letting the
stockings constrain my legs still, touching myself in intimate places, my
breasts, my nipples, my newly moist pussy.
Mischievous, thinking to increase my pleasure, I reached for a big
leather book on masterÕs desk. I opened it. I gasped.
Pictures of ruthless bondage assaulted my eyes. Girls, young girls
too young to describe, and women too, bound and gagged. I kept rubbing
myself. I could not stop. My eyes wide with horror, I could not stop.
Throughout the pictures, Martin was there. Big and huge and fucking
whomever he wished. I was frightened. I had not seen such wickedness.
Even in my small adventures, exploring, poking into the adult world as
best I could, discovering their secrets, I had not seen such as this. Martin
was dressed as an executioner. Many of the girls were Arabs. I shuddered.
Somewhere deep down inside I knew that many of them had never returned
home. They could no longer run across the hot desert sand as I had this
morning.
Martin looked younger in these photos. He had said out on the
comforter that he had mellowed. Yet I shrank in horror from the photos.
Worst of all, I shrank in horror from myself. How could I rub myself
looking at these pictures? I slammed the book shut. I did not want him
anymore. I must escape somehow.
Footsteps on the stairs. Had he heard the book shut? I ran to the
window. It was locked. I fumbled, I found the latch. My legs were sleepy.
They fought me. I shoved the window open and clambered up onto the sill.
It dug into my pussy. A wedgie in my pussy. I longed for more, yet in my
fear I could not stay. I lifted my pussy from the impressing windowsill.
With my ass swaying behind me, looking ridiculous in my long stockings, I
clambered in my high heels down the sloping tiled roof. I clung to the
windowcurtains, drawing them outside with me. They were long. With my
arms outstretched I got my feet to the edge of the pitched roof. I
calculated. A tree was there. I let go of the curtain and turned as I
pitched forward, forward toward the tree, the ground, twisting round in
my new high heels on the rooftop.
I caught the tree. Latching onto a branch I caught it, heaving, my
breasts large fat gourds sighing up and down, heavily. The branch was like
a big penis, stiff and hard. It held my weight with unyielding strength.
Gripping it, I swung down from the roofÕs edge. I hung in the air. I was
helpless, strung up like the girls in the photos. My feet dangled, my arms
screamed above me, hanging on tight with my hands high above me.
Yes. The sand was close. A few feet, no more. I let go of the branch.
I dropped. My heels poked into the sand, stabbing it. I fell into a crouch.
My hair whirled around as I twisted my head, all-seeing, a cat observing
her newfound surroundings.
ÒGod damn bitch!Ó Martin was at the window above. I could not see
him under the safety of the overhanging roof, steep pitched. Elegina was
at the door. It stood open, she stood within, contemplating, half in, half
out. There was a riding crop in her hand, MartinÕs. She was gagged. A
handcuff dangled loosely from one of her wrists. Her shirt was gone, her
breasts proud, uplifted. They moved with a heaviness, her chest seemed
belabored. I had interrupted their games. She was half-victim, submitted
to Martin, half-domme now, come to punish me for trying to escape. My
eyes ran down her legs to her moccasin boots. She turned. She shut the
door behind her. The zipper of her skirt was half unzipped in back. Her
blonde hair rolled in lovely waves down her back.
ÒMmmf!Ó Elegina ran to me. She did not drop the crop. She grabbed
one of my wrists with her hand that was circled just above with the
dangling cuff. She made her decision then. We would escape. We would
use our beauty as our passport. Not looking at one another, she still
holding me by the wrist, we ran behind the house. We ran out across the
hot sand. We ran toward the trees and the electric fence.
The Arabs saw us coming. In the distance, behind us, shots began
ringing out. Wild shots. From a wild man, Martin. The shots went wide,
high, he was shooting from an upstairs window. Elegina tore her gag from
her mouth as she ran. ÒThere is a hand grenade in the picnic basket,Ó she
breathed to me. Her breath was short, ragged. I breathed heavily, my
breasts flying, bouncing. ÒIt can knock down the tree. If the tree hits the
fence, if we are that lucky, it will smash it down and we can walk across
the fallen tree trunk.Ó
ÒHow did you?...Ó
ÒIt was not my idea. Martin brought it to toss at the Arabs.
Sometimes they come close to the fence, to watch. Today they did not. He
pitched a hand grenade at them last time. It kept them back today. It is
our lucky break.Ó She looked at me. ÒThough, in truth, I would not have
taken it if you had not inspired me.Ó
We ran more closely to each other, girlfriends now, squeezing hands.
Her grip was firm, strong. She would be my lover. I would take no more
men unless she permitted it. We reached the comforter. It lay silently,
forgotten under the shade, my pillow still there, EleginaÕs switch, unused,
left behind. She reached down into the picnic basket. My shit sloshed
within. She drew up a plastic bag from it, coated with the residue of my
enema. Inside was a hand grenade. She ripped open the bag and took it out.
ÒCome, step back,Ó she ordered me. Tossing her hair to get it out of
her eyes she stepped away from the tree with me.
ÒWhich way do you have to blast it to make it fall over the fence?Ó I
asked her.
ÒIÕm not sure,Ó she confessed. ÒA lumberjack liked me once, I
ignored his advances.Ó
ÒThanks a lot,Ó I scolded.
ÒYeah,Ó she replied. We girls donÕt always make the right choices.
Hopefully we would be right today.
KA-BOOOOOM! The sound seemed to echo across the desert. There
was a blasting of sand. We flinched, turned away, clapped our hands to our
ears. When it seemed safe we blinked our eyes open, felt our limbs. We
were intact. There was a sizzling, a hissing sound. The fence! It was
down. The tree lay across it. The eggs of the songbirds were splattered
somewhere, lost, shattered. Birth control arrives in Arabia, though its
still for the birds, reads the newspaper headline. The pope and the
ayatollah agree females should be impregnated with each fuck, made to
bear young.
Without chadors, without veils, crossing out of the protected
European estate into the world of the Arab nomads, we crossed the tree.
Teetering we crossed it, too stupid to take off our shoes. The sand was
hot. We were in a hurry. We crossed on the big tree as best we could. It
was broad underneath our feet. Its roundness was so wide as to make a
floor for us. It was an old tree, perhaps from the time of Napoleon. He
blew off the nose of the Sphinx and we were blowing a hole right through
the middle of the strict Islamic code for women.
We hurried up to the Arabs. There was a slowing in our tread as we
reached them. We were blonde, white-skinned, naked. They were dark,
veiled in robes. Elegina met them with her riding crop in her hand,
cautiously. An Arab strode out. He greeted us, her. He extended her hand
to her. She made to shake it but he grabbed her crop-hand and tore her
riding crop from her grasp.
ÒA fine implement,Ó he said, turning it in his brown fingers. They
were streaked with the dirt of desert sands. He stashed the crop in the
waistband of his robe. ÒDo not be afraid. You will be well treated if you
obey,Ó he said. Other men had gathered. I thought perhaps we would
parley with them a moment. It was not to be. Perhaps they could not
imagine, in their strict observance of Islamic code, entertaining the
thoughts and feelings of a woman on an equal man-to-woman basis.
The men lifted us up. Our feet left the desert floor. I thought
perhaps they would set us atop the camels, or a horse. They did. But it
was in a most discouraging way.
There was a white stallion. Perhaps it had belonged to the man who
greeted us. A soft blanket was thrown over it. I saw that it had been
recently stripped of other gear. Elegina was thrown first over the horse,
tossed like a sack of potatoes. Bottom up, legs dangling, she was plopped
onto her tummy atop the horseÕs back. It neighed, pawed the sand. I was
cast down beside her, my rump bare and wiggling behind me, my ankles
kicking. Quickly they looped ropes about my wrists, hers. The loose
handcuff dangling from her wrist amused them. Then they wrapped the
ropes under the horseÕs belly and secured our feet with them. My hip
bumped EleginaÕs. I looked at her. There was shock in my eyes. She
gasped at me, tears welling, then streaking her cheeks.
The horse shifted forward. We were off. Going into the desert, the
sun blazing down on our nude bottoms. Our breasts hung like gourds
beneath us, crushed upon the side of the horse, protected from his hide by
the blanket. My nipples were stiff. My hair fell over my face like a veil. I
would go to Allah veiled by my blonde hair.
Clouds came. A miracle. Allah looked upon me with favor. I bumped
and jostled next to Elegina as we rode out into the desert. ÒYou are
lucky,Ó an Arab said, striding beside us. He held EleginaÕs crop in his hand.
He turned his free hand up, palm open. He sought rain with it. There was a
thundercrack somewhere, in the distance. ÒYes, very lucky,Ó he repeated.
I did not know whether we were spared some horror because of the sudden
impending rain, or simply a good totem for him, a lucky rabbitÕs foot. Two
blondes in the desert, their feet tied off, veiled by their own hair, but
with their bottoms bulging up nakedly, an offering to Zeus who once ruled
this place under the Romans and might well rule it again today.
Bouncing and swaying atop the horse, we rode for a good two hours
upon the horse. In the distance, over some mountains, Zeus clashed with
Allah. There was lightning, like summer lightning, in the distance. Its
sprinkling of rain did not reach us.
Now and then the crop flicked us. An Arab, unseen, on the other side
of the horse, played the crop across our upturned fannies. I guessed it was
the man who called us lucky. Two white female bottoms were always
lucky in the desert, I supposed. He seemed to strike us furtively, as if
others, seeing, would admonish him. He was mean sometimes, stinging a
little harder, more generous at other times. I bit my lip, wanting to cry
out but afraid to. Afraid it would lead to harsher stings. Perhaps his
fellows would decide the game was alright after all, and they would all
flay us mercilessly. I turned my head to Elegina. Jostling beside me, her
boobies smooshed like mine, I saw she bit her lip also. She nodded at me,
tears brimming in her eyes. ÒYes,Ó she seemed to be saying, silently. ÒDo
not complain about the cuts. It would only make it worse for us.Ó Like
women in labor we bore them, weeping sometimes, very quietly. I knew
then I should have stayed in my parentÕs summer villa, a schoolgirl in her
bikini, tied off too low on my hips perhaps, seductively, my bra missing
sometimes, but still free, not a prisoner as I was now. But I had been
looking for men on the beach, someone to take me and love me. Now I was
taken.
Our horse entered a courtyard. There was shade. A ladle of water
was drawn from a roadside well. The Arab who had first met us lifted it
to my lips. I lapped, sipped at the water. I was a kitty in my backyard. I
saw the crop was missing from his sash. He had given it to his brother to
flay us on the journey, to keep us humble. Wear the chador, or be naked
and flayed instead, blonde ladies, it is your choice.
The others dismounted. Our horse went forward, Elegina and I not
thirsty anymore, our tongues slaked. Now we had another problem,
building over the long two-hour ride. There was no Howard JohnsonÕs to
receive us.
I gazed up, aware that my surroundings had changed. We were within
the courtyard to a building, large pillars around us. They glinted with
gold. Deeper within we went, our white stallion advancing. There were no
other animals here, save us, Elegina and me, female animals.
ÒOh, look!Ó Elegina was closest to the horseÕs head. She turned away
from me, was looking beyond. I lifted my head with difficulty and gazed
over the top of hers.
A throne room! We were in a large, luxurious throne room. A sultan
sat upon a pillowed chair, carved from ivory. Maidens attended to him on
either side. I saw they were leashed together. Harem girls, made to
attend upon their sultan-master.
ÒSire! We have brought you treasures from the desert, stolen from a
blasphemer!Ó An Arab voice called out. His deep manly voice echoed in the
large room. I heard birdsong, looked up, saw caged parakeets hanging from
the ceiling in cages. There were exotic plants dangling down between
them, from Europe, the Orient, America. Plants that required much water.
I heard the Sultan rise from his chair. There was a rustling of
clothing as he rose, all bowed before him. Down on their knees they got,
their heads lowered. Some rose back up then, the most esteemed men. The
others remained submissive.
The Sultan strode with casual indifference over to myself and
Elegina. From the frying pan...I heard inside my head. My conscience. My
too little listened to conscience.
A grip upon my jaw. My mouth was forced open by the SultanÕs
fingers. He inspected my teeth. ÒHmmm, not bad,Ó he said. He looked
inside EleginaÕs mouth next.
ÒThey will good give head, master,Ó I heard an Arab say.
ÒThey must, if they are to be spared their disobedience of AllahÕs
laws,Ó the Sultan replied. He was prudish, proper, at least before his
subjects. I guessed AllahÕs laws took a back seat within the depths of his
harem, when he dallied privately with his girls.
ÒCome round to the other side, Master, they have fine bottoms,Ó the
voice said. The man who greeted us. Who betrayed us as soon as he
greeted us. We were just objects to him, to be sold to the highest bidder.
The sultan paid well, I guessed. The Arabs would be nomads no more after
tonight. They would buy apartments in Cairo and serve mammon.
ÒYes, they are fine arses,Ó the Sultan agreed.
ÒThis one got porked this morning, see,Ó the Arab indicated, poking
my heinie with his finger. ÒThe European blasphemerÕs sperm is still
within her.Ó I blushed. Deeply I blushed, more deeply than ever in my life.
The sultan pinched my bottom. Testing, squeezing the silky flesh. ÒYes, a
fine ass indeed,Ó he said. My blushes consumed me.
ÒHer pussy is tight,Ó the Sultan said finally. No part of my Ôbusiness
endÕ must go uninspected, I guessed. He caressed my pouch. Freely he
touched it, as if examining merchandise in a store.
ÒThey are both tight, master,Ó the Arab said.
Elegina gasped beside me. I sensed the Sultan cupped and stroked
her love mouth also, as he continued to fondle mine.
ÒOoooch! He is pinching me!Ó Elegina said to me, then.
ÒWhat do you think he has been doing to me?Ó I asked. I blamed her
for our predicament. Yet it was I who had sought out Martin, found him in
the alps, let him bring me here. I was more to blame than she, perhaps.
ÒTalking, girls?Ó the Sultan came around in front of us again. We
were to be submissive, but Elegina could contain herself no longer. Nor
could I.
ÒI-We have to pee, sir,Ó she said, bashful but bold. To speak of such
things to the Sultan was unheard of in these parts, I knew. We were
unlearned. We were from Europe.
The Sultan laughed. He said something to the Arab who had brought
us. He approached. He had the crop in his hand again. EleginaÕs crop.
ÒPee!Ó he said. ÒPee in front of the Sultan if you are so bold to speak
to him, and about your bodily needs at that. Pee for him! He commands
you!Ó
There was silence. Elegina and I shifted atop our noble stallion. I
could not hold myself in much longer. The water they had fed me had gone
right to my bladder.
ÒAh!Ó Elegina gasped into the air, head uplifted.
ÒOooch!Ó I felt it then. The crop! Stinging, gliding, sweeping across
our upturned bottoms. Two strikes, three, skimming our upturned
pumpkins, our shuddering cleft globes.
And then I heard it, felt it. My pee sprung from my cunny like air
from a balloon. Hisss! Pisss! Down into the crotch of my half-lowered
pjÕs I pissed. Elegina sighed, her own piss now squirting out, along with
my own. Together we peed for them, lost mares in the desert.
Arab maidens appeared, stroked our hair, kissed us as we peed out
our long pent-up urine. There was laughter. The crop cut into our bottoms.
We peed and squirmed, the crop striking us again. Elegina turned her face
to mine and we kissed, captive and mindless atop the horse.
30
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-END OF story EMISSION