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Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
CHAMBERS OF LOVE
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Chapter Three
"I let them outside to play for awhile," mistress remarked to
some men. Julie and I cavorted naked in her back yard that evening, our
bare bubbies bouncing, our whitening bottoms proferring their high,
firm cloven cheeks to their view. Our long white legs flashed as we ran
and jumped, bent over, and stretched up. Our dells with their tight,
pretty curls showed immodestly.
At the moment Julie and I were plucking ripe cherries off Helga's
trees and pelting each other. Then I ran over to a birch tree and peeled
off a branch and chased Julie with it. "No! No!" she cried, protecting her
nearly-recovered bottom with her hands. I teased her with it but didn't
strike her.
Helga had never permitted us to dress. We'd ridden in the back of
her limo totally nude. Upon arriving at her house we'd been given
separate bathrooms to bathe in, and then encouraged to nap.
"You'll need lots of energy for this evening," she assured us. We
slept in beds of our own and were fed a light snack upon waking. Then,
our hair loose and free like Helga's, we were encouraged to go romp
naked in her yard. "You'll be bound and gagged most of the evening," she
said. "Enjoy a little freedom for awhile, and don't let anything inhibit
you, even clothing." We didn't really know what to think of her promise
of a night of bondage, but figured Dan would protect us if things turned
bizarre. So, feeling carefree and not a little silly, we heeded her words
and headed out back for some childish fun. When men showed up and
began admiring us we just swallowed our surprise and ignored them.
Yet we knowingly teased them with our jellied titties and soft
bottoms. We couldn't help it. It's just too fun making men go crazy
with lust, especially when they aren't allowed to touch. Since there
were many of them and only two of us, Helga made them content
themselves with polite comments about our appearance.
***
"Well, you two are quite the exhibitionists," Helga remarked when
we finally came in panting and puffing from the yard. She'd called us to
dinner, and we plopped down in our chairs, boobies jostling violently.
With careless abandon we ate naked at the table, amidst men in
tuxedoes. Helga was dressed in black for dinner, which disconcerted
the men, who kept begging her to be as liberated as Julie and I were.
The incessant demand that she at least show them her boobs she finally
acquiesced in. Julie and I rose and laughingly helped her out of her
blouse. Her magnificent bosoms were then the sole subject of
conversation for the remainder of the dinner.
As dessert was being served Helga got up and put dog collars
around Julie's neck and mine. This subdued us a bit and we ate dessert
quietly, gazing down at our plates and wondering what lay ahead.
A little bowl of water was brought to Julie and I after dessert,
along with a toothbrush. We were told to brush our teeth. You can
imagine how ridiculous we felt sitting there in front of all those men
in tailored suits, brushing like little girls before bed. My mouth foamed
and someone asked me a question and I tried to answer and it came out
all mumbled. Then I had to spit, which I did into an empty glass, and
rinse with the bowl and spit again.
Then a maid brought two cloths and we were each gently gagged.
We parted our lips to accept the cloth, still seated at the table,
gracefully acquiescing to our fate. Next our arms were drawn behind us
and our wrists pulled sharply upward until they nearly touched the
backs of our necks. We mewled with pain and discomfort. The effect it
had on our breasts, though, was eye-popping. They jutted out
obscenely, our stiff, rosy nipples trembling delicately. Our wrists
were cuffed together and suspended high against our backs, attached by
rings to our collars.
Helga told us that she wanted to enroll our naughty asses in a
girl's reformatory school. "I could hardly put you up in one of the local
schools here, though, for you two would corrupt all the other young
ladies. Hence, I suppose I shall have to start a special school myself,
just for you. I shall be headmistress, and I must warn you that I expect
strict obedience. Now girls, pay attention, for we must start at once,
before you slip any further into decadence and degradation!"
We were made to stand and then she literally marched us off,
merely threatening our bottoms with her crop, however. I should
describe Helga's home. It was a large, old Victorian mansion, filled
with ornate furniture that recalled an age of rigidly enforced decency.
Rudely naked, collared like animals, Julie and I traipsed through this
imposing abode, our bubbies and asses jiggling. Julie let a fart as we
passed through the conservatory. An old woman in a painting, dressed
to the neck in frumpy church clothes, glared down at us.
Our first stop was a medical examining room, Helga explained.
We must have our school physicals before we could begin our new
curriculum. She would play the nurse. She donned a white cap and lacy
white fishnet gloves. They were fingerless. Then she slung a
stethoscope around her neck. Its soundpiece dangled down between her
bare bosoms.
Since we were gagged our temperatures could not be taken orally.
Standing side by side, Julie and I were bent forward until our heads
rested on an elevated examining table. As the men watched, a greased
thermometer was poked enquiringly up Julie's ass, then mine. Helga
said we both had slight temperatures and would have to be given
cooling injections. "However, since I see nothing here but men with hot
sperm I shall have to do it myself. A champagne enema, I think, will
suffice, and have the added effect of anesthetizing you both for the
ordeals ahead." Julie and I shivered at this and bit our lips, hoping
Helga was just showing off. The clatter of a maid bringing in an ice
bucket, however, proved that the enema at least was no joke. Two
maids were stripped of their blouses and made to hold open our
bottoms. Julie and I gasped as liquor was introduced directly into each
of our bowels. It was shiveringly cold and made me tipsy.
Staggering, we were led, drunk, into another room a few minutes
later. Blearily I made out two gynecological tables, side by side. Julie
and I were laid out on them. Thick pillows were placed beneath our
bottoms, lifting our hips and proffering our pussies to our hosts. Our
heads had only small cushions to support them.
My feet were drawn wide and strapped into steel stirrups, as
were Julie's. Each of us had been uncuffed before being laid out on the
table. Now our arms were roughly pulled above our heads, stretched 'til
they could stretch no more, and chained tightly to the wall behind us.
Our bosoms stuck up invitingly, offering our thorn-like nipples for
kissing, clamping, or even to be clipped off, as one man suggested. This
scared the daylights out of me, but Helga saw my worried look and
assured me no harm would come to me.
"Just relax, honey," she breathed. "It will be easier for you if you
do." Helga divided the men into two groups and told them to take off
their pants. They complied eagerly, soon displaying a forest of long-
stemmed toadstools. Julie and I mewed our misgivings behind our gags.
I didn't want all these strange men fucking me! I couldn't take that
many penises, surely I could not! The men lined up and the first one
came to me. He presented his cockhead to my cuntlips and rubbed me
nicely for a few moments. Just when I thought this was all things
would amount to he gave a quick thrust. I gasped at the penetration, he
grunted at my unexpected tightness. Helga told him to work slowly,
that I'd only ever had one boyfriend and was new to sex. Disconsolately
he forced himself to take his time, obviously wanting to spend quickly.
Meanwhile Julie was proving more accommodating, and her first man
humped her vigorously and gave way to a second.
With diligent strokes my man widened my passage and finally got
up into my innermost depths. He did not pump me but merely spumed
forth his seed, groaning as my velvety walls compressed and
constricted him with their virginal tightness.
The next man had to open me up all over again, but seemed to take
a bit more pleasure in his labors. He succeeded in rodding me several
times before my girlish clenching got the better of him.
Gagged and moaning, Julie and I took every last man in the room.
Finally we lay immobile, bathed in sweat, our duties done. Our pussies
hurt. We looked at each other, lying captive on our tables, and smiled
with relief through our gags. We had passed our first test of the
evening.
"Thank you gentlemen," Helga announced to our plunderers.
"Please refresh yourselves and await our arrival in the next training
room." The men filed out, to what destination I did not know.
Helga raised us up off the tables. We were re-cuffed, our hands
hung high behind our backs. We did not walk out of the room the same
women. Our gait was exceedingly awkward, with difficult, mincing
steps, thighs spread wide and pussies throbbing. The insides of our
legs were coated with drying rivulets of semen. Male fluid dripped
from our gaping wide cunts.
Two bowls waited by the side of the room. Chamberpots, made of
brass and intricately carved with depictions of cherubs and satyrs.
Helga said we must pee. Groaning, we squatted down onto our chamber
pots and made water in them.
"I have a few friends in the next room who are connoisseurs of
the Art of Love," Helga explained to us when we'd unsteadily regained
our feet after peeing. "I hope you don't mind, but they watched your
exertions through a little peephole. That mirror, over there." She
pointed to a mirror hung innocuously above a sink with a sign that read,
"Wash hands before each examination."
"They were quite impressed with you both. They'd like to meet
you, and congratulate you. Please come." She took us both by our
elbows and ushered us quickly through a door we'd not passed through
before. Reeling, I found myself amongst at least twenty older couples
elegantly attired in evening wear. They gazed at us with cheery faces,
tinged with the blush of alcohol.
A woman with too much makeup bussed me on the cheek.
"Marvelous performance, darling!" she gushed. A man shook my hand and
then whispered that I could outdo Julie if I'd take him then and there.
He laughed, slapped my shoulder heartily and drew away as his wife
admonished him.
"Congratulations, dearie," a woman who doubtless was a
grandmother-by-day said, shaking my hand. I brushed a lock of hair
from my eyes to try to make myself appear more presentable. I thanked
her. It went this way throughout the group, Julie and I being weaved
through them one by one and made to shake hands and accept kisses and
the occasional bouquet. They seemed not to mind that I was utterly
unpresentable. I minded, though, and searched frantically for a door. I
ransacked my mind for some excuse that would require my immediate
departure.
Finally, bedecked with flowers like some kind of new sexual
Olympians, Julie and I were permitted to make our departure. Helga
followed, and directed us into a bathroom. There two topless maids put
us into a shower and quickly rinsed us off.
Our next duty was to have our bottomholes widened, Helga said, in
the "Riding Room." She ushered us into a fully-equipped bondage room.
The men were there, stroking themselves to make themselves hard
again.
The topless maids mounted Julie and I on ersatz horses. They
were elegantly carved out of hardwood, but eerily headless. My wooden
steed had a saddle, which I straddled with my bare pussy. To my
delight I found that the seat of my saddle was lined with plush fur. My
pussy lips spread generously upon it. This, at least, would prove to be a
comfy ride, or so I supposed. I pretended to be a child on a supermarket
horse and bounced myself up and down, smiling.
"Giddeyap!" I said gaily. Julie, sitting erect and holding the reins
bolted to the front of her horse, giggled.
"Auugh!" one of the men cried at my nonsensical display. It so
aroused him that he shot off prematurely. His semen splattered two
men nearby. Needless to say, this caused quite a commotion.
"Hey! Watch where you're aiming that thing!" one victim yelled
gruffly.
"I'm not a pussy--or do you think I'm an asshole?!" the other
brayed. Julie and I burst out laughing. We now had one less prick to
worry about.
Helga finally got the men settled down. She reminded them to
keep handkerchiefs over their cocks. "Proper etiquette is important,
boys. Keep yourselves covered until your turn is called."
Unfortunately, Helga's plans were for Julie and I to do some "trick
riding," and this called for us to ride in unique positions. The maids got
busy once more. I was made to lean forward until my bottom jutted up
and out, my nether cheeks spread wide by my enforced posture. My head
was pushed low, almost to the floor, and bound so that I could not rise.
My arms remained cuffed at the back of my neck. My legs, pulled
straight, were strapped into stirrups. Julie's stallion was identical to
mine. The maids tied her down for her ride just as they had done to me.
I lay there, poised for bottom fucking, wondering how I could
possibly survive. Dan had slipped away and hadn't been seen since
before dinner. Julie squirmed nearby, as worried as I was. Fretfully
we waited as Helga instructed the men on how to open up tight asses.
"You must not force yourself unnecessarily," she advised. "I will
whip the girls first, to get them used to the stinging they will have to
endure when you enter them from behind."
There was an array of whips hung neatly on the far wall. Helga
strode up to the display and picked out a slim whip with a knotted tip.
Nervously I watched her over my shoulder, straining against the leather
strap which held down my neck. She walked up behind me and slashed
the air once with her whip. Its sound made me flinch.
"God, what legs! What an ass!" Helga exulted, eyeing my
fundament. "Scream prettily for me darling. The room is fully
soundproofed and you needn't worry about waking any Prince Charming
who might interrupt your lovely ordeal." With a practised hand she
raised the whip and brought it cracking down.
"Eeeeee!" I screamed, the knotted tip biting and stinging me like
an angry bee. I yelled and humped upon the saddle, to the utter delight
of the men, who stroked themselves furiously. The saddle's fur lining
was too much for my clitty and it sent me howling into an orgasm.
The bizarre torture continued, pain at my rump spurring
shuddering orgasms in my cunny. I wept and shouted lustily and
somewhere in it all I even squirted out my pee. I was taken beyond any
ability to control myself, reduced to a shivering mass of curvaceous
flesh. Julie watched all this with extreme trepidation, huddling upon
her horse, knowing she would be next.
Later I lay shuddering, barely aware that it was Julie now who
was being made to spill tears by the whip. Her screams were rending
the room, I told myself in a little voice, not mine.
Of course, I'd forgotten the main event. Helga said something
inaudible to one of the men and, to my gasping dismay, the cheeks of my
bottom were rudely thumbed apart. A moment later my asshole was
receiving its first intruder. It was a fairly narrow cock, good for
getting a girl started, but it felt huge to me. Slick with jelly the head
nosed inside me. I was so exhausted from my whipping I had not the
capacity to resist. My anal ring distended itself and my intestines
received their new playmate with vacuum-like joy. Up he went, and I
felt as if all the air were being forced from my lungs. My eyes bulged
as he buried himself to the root. Then, pleased with his entry, he
withdrew himself almost to the tip and repeated it. Up he went, then
back out, then up again, ever faster, as I began to buck and weave my
hips under the assault. Suddenly he grimaced. A moment later I felt a
hot flood of semen pour into my violated bowels. I swooned and
managed to clench my bottom cheeks several times, to squeeze him to
completion as fast as possible.
Afterward he stood wriggling himself within me, enjoying the
satisfaction of giving me his every last drop. However, the men behind
him complained that he was 'hogging my ass' and finally tore him off
me. This was little consolation to me, however, for in place of his
slim, deflating cock came a bigger one, fully loaded. I winced and
gasped for mercy as this new suitor entered me. He paid no attention. I
was an open asshole to him, nothing more. Amidst the frothing foam of
semen left by his friend, he now made his own grand entrance. And so
it went, man after man. Blearily I wondered if I would turn into a man
myself from all the testosterone that was being pumped into me.
Many penises later Julie and I stumbled from the "Riding Room."
We'd ridden our horses admirably, Helga told us, though of course
neither of us had traveled a single yard in any direction. She squired
our broken bodies into a room with two bare mattresses on the floor.
She said the room was not presently being used for its main purpose,
fucking, and we were welcome to rest there. It was warm. There was
no need for blankets. Julie and I slumped, exhausted, onto the mats.
Leaving us to recuperate, Helga departed, and I heard her in the distance
clapping her hands and announcing it was time for the topless maids to
perform with their cunnies. The men cheered. I fell asleep then, and
did not wake at all during the entire night.
"Come, dear," Helga was saying to me the next morning as I
groggily regained consciousness. "You must suck off each man before
he goes home."
It took me a minute to realize where I was. For a moment I was
certain I was in one of my naughty dreams in my bedroom at home. I
shook my head, sending my blonde hair flying, as I attempted to break
through the dream to the reality of my dollies and teddy bear. Finally it
dawned on me that this was reality, this demand to suck a dozen men's
cocks, and my dollies only a memory. I stumbled up, begged to pee, and
was reluctantly allowed to do so, in a chamber pot in the corner of the
room. Then I was taken through the house to the front door. There my
paramours of the night before waited, eagerly presenting their cocks.
Fortunately Helga had fetched Julie first, then come back for me.
The young wife had already done six of the men by the time I arrived. I
did the rest, and they left whistling like schoolboys. Then Helga told us
to go bathe and join her at breakfast.
Julie and I spent the day at Helga's, limping about. We nursed our
orifices, which had performed so ably, against our wishes, through the
long night. Despite our discomfort we had not been harmed, merely put
to good use, from which we would entirely recover.
"Well, I think your bottom is well trained now," Helga remarked to
me that night as she, Julie, and I enjoyed a private topless dinner
together.
"I'm glad you made some of them only put their cockhead inside
me," I replied, squirming my still-aching bottom on my chair. The seat
was covered with velour, a welcome comfort. We wore only silk
panties. The night was warm.
"Yes, some of the men were simply too big, but you'll learn to take
even those in time," Helga replied.
"I was a good girl. I took all of mine," Julie smirked, affecting a
high, schoolgirl voice. This set us to laughing, Julie boasting of the
prowess of her asshole. Even Helga joined in the merriment. Our freely
displayed breasts joggled merrily.
"You have the most marvelous bosoms, Helga," Julie said
admiringly when we'd settled back down. It was true. They were
classic Playboy boobs, the big round kind that look air-filled and ought
to flap around like pancakes but don't. They were glaringly white, in
contrast to her thoughtfully tanned neck and arms and tummy. The
nipples were perfectly sized, not too big like on some large breasts.
"I'm tempted to ask if I may suck one, just to see what its like," Julie
continued.
"You may each suck one," Helga replied. "In fact, I order you to."
She cupped her bosoms with her palms and expectantly offered them up
to us. I looked at Julie and she looked at me, and we exchanged smiles.
Daintily I reached out and plucked Helga's nearest nipple, even as Julie
put her fingers to the other one. Squeezing the bud, I tasted it with the
tip of my tongue, then slurped and began to suckle it.
Like babies drawing nourishment from the female bosom, Julie
and I suckled devotedly upon Helga's tits. She cooed and pressed our
heads more firmly to her. We fed upon her until her nipples actually
hurt, and then lapped the white cones of her breasts with our tongues.
Our mouths slithered down her tummy a bit later and met inquiringly at
her dell. Fingering ourselves we sent Helga moaning into bliss,
following soon after from our own fiddlings.
We were, to say the least, bonded together by then, we three
naughty females. Julie and I spent the night with Helga in her bed,
wrestling one another to climax after climax. We spanked each other,
burrowed vibrators into one another's holes, fed each other
strawberries and decorated our titties with whipped cream.
Morning found us frisky once more, so we decided to stay in bed
and play with each other's tits and clittys. That afternoon we lounged
in the buff by the pool. When evening came we donned teensy bikinis
and, at Helga's insistence, crashed a formal party we "accidentally"
mistook to be a swimming party.
***
Tiny mesh cups barely contained my boobs as I stood laughing
with a pair of couples in tuxedoes and gowns. I was openly admired by
the four of them as we talked. They offered me a glass of champagne
and I accepted, chattering on about how embarrassed Helga and Julie
and I had felt upon discovering how inappropriately we'd dressed for
their party. (It was fiction, of course, Helga had planned to shock
them.)
"Oh, well, you see that we invited you in anyway," a woman named
Nikki replied.
"Most delightful attire, really," a man named Bob remarked. He
reached down and gently pulled open the front of my skimpy panties.
"Ah, you are a true blonde, I see."
"Robert!" his wife scolded.
"Your swimsuit, it does not quite fit your bottom," a man said
from behind me. The top of my ass crack showed and my lower cheeks
hung out.
"Well, with thong bikinis being all the rage I thought it wouldn't
matter if my old-fashioned full-sized panties fell a little short," I
said, blushing, giving with accomplished grace a line Helga had taught
me. "I've grown since I bought them, you know." (In fact, Helga had
loaned me the bikini, intentionally choosing one that was a size too
small.)
"So nice of you to come anyway, even without a properly fitting
bikini," a woman named Alessa said.
"Yes, I hoped you wouldn't mind," I agreed with innocent eyes.
"Not at all," Bob said, clearing his throat. "Not at all!"
With that, Nikki pulled down my panties in back, exposing my
white-cheeked bottom. My drink was slipped out of my hand and my
arms caught up by the men on either side of me. With my butt exposed I
was led tottering on my six-inch heels across the room. Julie suffered
a similar indignity, her panties being pulled down to her knees. For
Helga it was the breasts which were bared first, the tiny bra cups
being pushed aside so that her bosoms hung out in all their glory.
"Pussies on Parade," it was called, as we were led about the room
and made to greet each and every guest, flushing intensely at our nudity
now and wondering what was happening. Even Helga was in uncharted
territory, as firmly a prisoner of the partiers as Julie and I were.
Gradually, by keeping my ears open, I began to piece together the
facts myself. The East Hill Pinocle Club had little to do with cards and
a lot to do with illicit, adulterous love. Helga had hoped to crash a
stodgy card game and spend an hour teasing wealthy old farts in front
of their gasping wives. Instead, the group proved to be in their 40's,
not their 60's, and the tricks and combinations they were intent on
making thrived on the sight of under-dressed girls. In fact, they
routinely hired strippers to get their orgies off to a lusty start.
Despite our protestations, the partiers were certain Helga and Julie and
I were the strippers they'd hired!
When I realized our predicament, a sentence I'd overheard at the
beginning of the evening came back to me with resounding horror: "My,
they're early this evening. Must be eager girls," a woman had said upon
our arrival. I'd dismissed the sentence, not understanding it, for none
of the three of us had ever been to the Club before. Now I found myself
quaking in my heels, hands groping at me as I was made to introduce
myself to the president of the club. Without asking he cupped my cunny
and squeezed it through my little mesh panties. His eyes leered at me,
snake-like.
"I'll have to check the club's finances," he said. "I didn't know it
was possible to hire such pretty girls."
Where, oh where, were the real strippers? I thought to myself. It
was the first time in my life I found myself praying to God for
prostitutes. Surely they must arrive soon and straighten things out. Or
would they see that other girls were graciously performing their
services for them and quietly slip away with their advance money?
"Truly, these are the finest strippers you ever hired, Hodgkins," a
man exclaimed to the club president. "I especially like the one with the
big boobs."
"She will shake them quite vigorously when she dances to the
snakeskin lash, surely," Hodgkins agreed. He turned back to me. "But
you are my favorite. What flavor enema do you prefer, hmm? Cat got
your tongue, eh? Tsk! Tsk!" Roughly he grabbed my little bra cups and
yanked them down. My breasts seemed to explode out of the confining
mesh. Despite my plight they sported fully erect nipples. The
president took that as a welcome sign, an indication that I was a
willing participant in his wicked games.
Helga, Julie, and I were led to a table and made to stand upon it.
Rudely my panties were pulled down, left however just above my knees,
where they hung uselessly. Helga's panties were pulled down too.
Julie's breasts were liberated from her bra.
We were handed guitars and commanded to sing. Awkwardly I
plucked at the unfamiliar instrument. I didn't know the first thing
about how to play it. The partiers told us to sing children's songs, "Old
MacDonald had a Farm" and "Mary had a Little Lamb."
It turned out Helga had taken guitar lessons as a girl. She must
have done badly. With faltering fingers she led Julie and I in trilling
out a melody or two. I plinked along, not knowing one string from the
other.
A lash cracked upon my bottom and I was told to sing better.
Helga and Julie leapt as their fannys felt the same command. Tits
jouncing above my peeled-back bra cups, which pressed against the
underside of my tits, lifting them up and displaying them lewdly, I sang
and danced about as the whip was applied lightly to my rear end.
"She's not very good, but she does wiggle nicely," a woman
remarked. My titties shook their cherry tips provocatively at her. My
love snatch peeped saucily from between my prancing thighs. My
bottom taunted, teased; its effulgent, resplendent cheeks reddening
under the whip. Was I having fun now, I scolded myself. All this
because I'd fallen in love with another woman's lawfully married
husband.
Canisters of whipped cream were produced and we were told to
keep on singing as the sticky cream was sprayed in streams onto our
naked bodies. Helga's tits were a favorite target, as was my pussy.
Julie was squirted repeatedly in the face. We screamed and begged
them to stop, to no avail.
At last we were let down from the table, bottoms smarting,
defiled with cream. Just then the real strippers showed up, and our
humiliation was complete, for we had endured all this for free!
Naughty girls in naughty swimsuits who'd gotten just what their saucy
bottoms deserved. Weeping, we went dashing out of the club. Nobody
tried to stop us, they were too busy laughing. Few worried that we
would go to the police with our mortifying story, and they were right.
Helga, a wealthy young woman in her own right, was not about to be
splashed across the pages of the National Enquirer.
We ran down the club's pebbled driveway, yanking up our panties
as we went, like girls in some 1930's comedy short. Our breasts
flopped freely, frenziedly, as we dashed for Helga's Porsche. Some
Mexican laborers, tooling home in their gardening truck, threw their
truck into a sudden stop upon the road. They stared at us as we leapt
into Helga's Porsche. She spun the car around and shot down the club
driveway, only to find the Mexican truck blocking her exit. For what
seemed like an eternity we sat there, Helga frantically honking her
horn, topless, as the men in the truck stood spellbound. Finally they
found their wits and moved out of the way for us.
***
Dripping with whipped cream, we stumbled at last into the
sanctuary of Helga's mansion. The ride home had not been completed
without turning a few heads, particularly the well-placed ones of
drivers of big rigs. No doubt by now we were on all channels, CB
buddies everywhere on the lookout for a Porsche loaded with "creamy
babes."
We headed straight for the shower. The hot water soothed me
like never before. We washed each other's backs and then took to
soaping each other all over. Despite the degradation, or perhaps
because of it, I felt randy now from what had happened to me at the
club. Julie and Helga experienced a similar, strange kind of high as we
stood there talking about it. Afterward we got in bed together and sat
laughing at what fools we'd made of ourselves.
"We tried to be little instigators, and I fear instead we were
instigated upon," Helga admitted. Even I was aware by now of my
captivating beauty; the immediate, narcotic effect it had on even the
wealthiest of men. It was fun, I admitted, to present myself to a
mature man's eyes and watch him pant, stutter, try to feed me a line
and fail miserably. Especially when his wife was standing right beside
him. Or his lady friend.
But we would have to be more careful where we did our provoking,
Helga said. "Perhaps we should go to Europe," she suggested. "They
have topless beaches and such there where a girl can display herself
safely. And soirees, too, where very little clothing is taken for
granted."
"A friend of mine went to Paris once," Julie piped up. "She told
me:
'I attended a party without my panties. It was so exotic.
Everyone was perfectly polite, and ever so discreet, yet we girls
were utterly naked from the waist down. The girls spoke
beautiful French, so sexily, forming their mouths into pretty O's.
'You cannot imagine how free one feels to be amongst
strangers, yet with your pussy and ass deliciously naked. The
men wished a similar freedom but our hostess would not allow it.'
"That's how she described it, anyway. As for myself, I swear I
will never wind up at a party with a bare ass ever again!"
"Of course, dear," Helga agreed. "But the party does sound sweet.
Did the girls finally get what they'd cum for?"
"I don't know," Julie said. "The party was on a large yacht,
travelling up the Seine, and my friend was only 10-years-old at the
time. They let her join in for a little while but then they ushered her
out." Helga and I looked at each other in open-mouthed surprise. Little
did I know that I was about to get an even bigger shock on the subject
of little girls.
Julie and I had become quite curious about Dan. He'd been missing
for several days. We pestered Helga about his whereabouts, for she
seemed to know where he was. Finally Helga relented and fetched a key
and took us downstairs to her basement. She made us pledge not to
interfere.
Through a little window we saw Dan in a sealed off room of the
cellar. A young 12-year-old maid, her breasts just budding, had Dan
tied spread-eagle to a sumptuous bed. He looked like some captive
Mars, lured to the bed by a wee siren who then sprung her net upon him.
Dan's big cock stuck up like a flagpole. Pre-cum drooled from its tip
and lay in drying rivulets along his shaft. Dan struggled in his bonds,
jabbing at the air repeatedly with his engorged organ. He appeared to
be in agony. Sweat beaded his brow.
"Dan!" Julie gasped plaintively, touching a hand to her lips as if to
ward off the sight. I was equally stunned.
"Despite what you might think, Dan is quite happy in his agony,"
Helga assured us. "Watch on."
Oblivious to us, the maiden began titillating Dan's penis with an
ostrich feather. Then, playfully, she fetched a moist cloth and sat at
his head wiping his brow. After a bit she went back to masturbating
him with the feather.
"Dan always had a bit of the masochist in him, and now one of my
smallest, most delicate maids has got the big man totally within her
sexual power. She's learnt to read his body's signals, as you can see.
Poor Dan hasn't come in days.
"Sometimes a young lady may agree to become the sex slave of a
man, because she loves him or simply for the thrill of it. Here Dan has
enslaved himself to this girl. You must let him indulge himself, Julie.
Do not think of him as your husband for now. He did a good job on you as
your groom and now has moved on to other pleasures. Kimmy, you too
must release him from your mind. If you are both good girls about it I
promise you I'll take you abroad with me when I go travelling to
Europe."
Julie and I brightened at this. I'd never been anywhere, and the
farthest Julie had ever gone was to a potato festival in Idaho. (She'd
been named Miss Potato, by the way, without even entering the
contest.)
The prospect of going anywhere sounded just marvelous to me
and Julie. She didn't have to work, as Dan made an excellent salary as a
petroleum engineer. And I lived with my mother, who had gone to Las
Vegas to stay with her mother for the summer. (Graciously leaving me
behind, for the first time ever.) So we were both free, unattached, and
eager to explore the world. A world seemingly stuffed with wealthy,
powerful men who tripped over themselves to be near us.
Julie and I did our best over the ensuing day to forget Dan. We
loitered about Helga's, using her pool and playing in her big back yard.
Then, at breakfast, Helga announced that since we seemed to have
depleted America's decadence, it was time for us to go drain France.
"You mean you've got tickets?" Julie gushed. We both sat forward
eagerly.
"First class, on the Concorde out of Kennedy."
"Yea!" Julie and I both shouted. But we didn't know then what our
mischievous, inquisitive nature would get us into.
30
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