Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
No. 108    alt.sex.stories  

D R E A M G I R L S  S T O R I E S
A Mansion for Masochists
Part Twenty-Six
by Andrew Roller

Chapter Eighteen

         Some time later Mitch lay stretched out upon the wooden bench, 
his penis limp and spent.  Alicia knelt on the floor beside the bench, her 
head upon his thigh, her long locks cascading over his loins.  Her wrists 
were still bound behind her and her breasts jutted out in all their naked 
glory.  Elspeth, kneeling on a ledge in the pool, leaned out of it to tweak 
and play with Alicia's unprotected nipples.  Mitch ran his fingers 
through Alicia's hair and Elspeth fiddled with the blonde's nipples as a 
languorous conversation passed between them.
         "I hope someone will join us," Elspeth said.
         "You still need it, don't you?" Mitch asked.
         "Yes, I do," Elspeth said, raising her bottom from the foaming 
water and wriggling it.  "Little Alicia here seems to have gotten all the 
fun."
         "I'd still rather be a Lady than a Sailorette," Alicia said, watching 
the woman's nails as they pecked at her nipples.
         "When you're older, dear," Elspeth said.
         "I just turned 18," Alicia remarked.  "You'd think that would make 
me old enough, but it only qualifies me to be a sailorette!  If I were any 
younger I wouldn't be allowed to be anything!  Now I've got to wait even 
longer to be a Lady!"
         "Those are the rules, dear," Elspeth said.  
         "Well, I don't like them," Alicia pouted.  Mitch raised his head 
slightly.
         "See here!" Mitch said in mock shock.  "Criticizing Lilith's rules?  
After she provided us with such a fine boat for our loveplay?  I think 
you deserve a spanking for such an ungrateful attitude, Miss!"
         "No I don't!" Alicia cried, even as Mitch rose up and hoisted her 
over his lap upon the bench.  Alicia kicked her legs and squealed but 
knew she had it coming and even found herself wanting it.  Elspeth 
hopped out of the tub and knelt on the tiles beside the bench. Grasping 
Alicia's flailing heels, she helped to still her.
         "How many men have you permitted to fondle this wayward 
bottom of yours?" Mitch asked, caressing Alicia's heinie.
         "Not many, and even less if I weren't handcuffed," Alicia 
responded.  Mitch's fingers plyed the smooth round cheeks, admiring 
their texture.
         "I thought you were instructed to address me as 'Sir'?" Mitch 
admonished the girl.  
         "Not many, Sir!" Alicia cried.  
         "Well, I think it's been quite a lot, and I wonder what your daddy 
would do with you if he found out?" Mitch asked.
         "I don't have a daddy," Alicia said, squirming.  "He's divorced."
         "All the more reason then for me to step in and take his place," 
Mitch said, smiling at Elspeth.  Her pendant breasts hung down in 
motherly fashion, almost begging for a baby to milk them.
         "I've never sired a daughter yet, but I don't think it would hurt for 
me to get some practice in disciplining one," Mitch said.  "Especially 
when I have such a naughty example of girlhood right in my very lap!"  
With that Mitch brought the palm of his hand down with a resounding 
slap upon Alicia's bottom.  The blonde cried out, only to have her 
ululation met by yet another whack and another after that.  Beyond 
them a couple entered the whirlpool room with a sailorette in tow.  
Alicia heard them enter and blushed with humiliation.  
         Elspeth's kneeling posture proved too alluring for the man who 
had just come in, and he walked forward and wordlessly took Elspeth by 
the hips.  Elspeth made to get up but even as she tried to do so the man 
entered her.  He was large of stature, and a wriggling, willful woman 
was no match for his muscles.  The two females who had just entered 
with him padded around to Elspeth's front and, kneeling, each partook of 
one of her breasts.  Together they shared her pussy.  
         Even as he continued to spank Alicia, Mitch looked up in 
anticipation at the two tempting bottoms of the newly arrived females.  
The dimpled curves of flesh were just inches from him, moving gently 
to and fro as the women worked Elspeth.  Mitch licked his lips, knowing 
that the uninvited intrusion of the male into Elspeth would permit him 
to discipline the male's two girlfriends.
         The groans and moans of the double menage a trois came to 
Alicia's ears as she endured Mitch's blasting palm.  She had come a long 
way from Iowa, both physically and metaphorically, and she knew under 
Lilith's continued tutelage she would be taken further still.  She felt 
hot, and not just in her bottom.

THE END

D R E A M G I R L S  S T O R I E S
Love Child
Part One
by Andrew Roller

Chapter One

         In my mind I tried to imagine what it would be like.  I lofted my 
hands above my head.  The chaise lounge stuck up above my head and I 
rested them there, along the top, crossed my wrists and pretended they 
were tied to it.  I dropped my legs down on either side of the chaise 
lounge.  I arched my pussy forward.  
         I gazed up at the sun, feeling its warmth, my eyes closed.  I'd just 
slipped off my bikini bra a moment earlier and my breasts, full and 
firm, peaked toward the sun.  Only my bikini panties remained to 
protect me from Phoebus.  Hotly he breathed down on me, but a cool 
breeze, sent by some sympathetic goddess, wafted up around me.  
         In my imagination I left the sun behind.  It was nighttime now, 
and I was at a party.  Kimber was there.  She owned the chaise lounge I 
was lying on.  She'd slipped away, leaving me by myself by her pool, but 
in my daydream she was right in front of me.  
         "So glad you could come," she whispered, her eyes holding that 
worldly gleam.  I knew what was expected.  A butler appeared, holding a 
silver tray.  A little pile of female underpants were stacked upon it.  
Pink ones, yellow ones, frilly ones with little bows.  I slipped my hands 
beneath my miniskirt.  Reluctantly I pulled my own undies down my legs 
and added them to the pile.  Kimber smiled her approval.  She took me by 
the arm, led me in to meet the other guests.  
         An even number of men and women, give or take a few, chatted 
amicably in the hotel suite's living room.  The women were all young, 
with Kimber, at 22, representing about the average.  The men ranged 
somewhat older in age, starting at the mid-twenties and going as high 
as 50.  I was received warmly by the nearest couple.  We spoke a 
moment, then Kimber and I moved on, exchanged small talk with other 
guests in turn, Kimber graciously introducing me to each of them.  I 
was the youngest, at 15.  My face, angelic, with soft pink cheeks, 
looked 12.  But there was no doubt my body could hold its own against 
any of them.  The swell of my breasts was prominent, provocative.  My 
mother said they were much too big for my age.  My legs were sleek and 
long and seemed to rise up until they disappeared somewhere in my 
ribcage.  Barbi was not an unsuitable name for me.  People said I looked 
just like her.  My hips, I suppose, could have been fuller, but my bottom 
was well-fleshed, sticking out round and saucily like some apple 
desiring to be polished.
         As Kimber threaded me through the guests I studied their mouths.  
Most women wore light shades of lipstick, glossing their pretty lips.  
Their teeth were small and dazzlingly white, tongues flitting within as 
they spoke.  Each one would sup upon my pussy this evening, Kimber had 
promised, for this was a Pussy Party, where the most private part of 
the body was given prominence.  There were no "ass men" or "leg men" 
here tonight, but rather those who prized a woman's cunt above all else.  
And there were a few women here too who shared a similar obsession, 
particularly the older ones.  The youngest females present were all 
here "to show," as it was artfully said, and had been selected for the 
beauty of their dells.
         I sensed movement.  My eyes popped open, into the glare of the 
sun.  My hands shot down to my pussy and lay protectively upon it, only 
then realizing that I still wore my bikini briefs.  
         Kimber stood under the shadow of a tree, observed me with a sly 
smile.  I felt embarrassed, realized my titties were bare and were 
being squished upward between my closely drawn arms.  My nipples 
stuck up, fully erect, excited.  A cool breeze caressed them.
         "I'd offer a penny for your thoughts, but I think I already know..." 
Kimber said, her voice trailing off softly.  I flushed, felt butterflies in 
my stomach.  "Such a sweet little virgin," she said, and sauntered over 
to me.  She plucked each of my hands off my crotch.  Lightly she stroked 
my mound, tenuously covered by my panties.
         "D-Don't," I breathed, trembled, arms at my sides.  My breasts 
shivered as I spoke.  I replaced my legs on the chaise lounge.  They 
looked like long sticks of cinnamon stretching down away from me, 
straight, with two wiggly sets of toes at the end.  Kimber sat down 
beside me on the chaise lounge, her hand still caressing my virgin loins.  
I should have squeezed my legs tightly together, but I didn't.  I left my 
thighs parted slightly.  My breasts wobbled nakedly on my chest as I 
took a breath and exhaled it with a shudder.
         "You mustn't expose them to direct sunlight," Kimber said, looking 
at my boobs.  "Men prefer them white.  Put your bra back on."  She urged 
modesty upon me even as her fingers danced upon my dell.
         I fetched my bra from where it lay beside me.  I leaned forward 
and covered myself with it, reaching behind myself to tie it.  Kimber 
smoothed my bikini between my loins, watching my face and tits with 
her eyes.  "I'm having a party tonight," she said.  "Another girl your age, 
less developed, might be too young for it, but you are full grown enough 
to come.  You must not deny yourself any longer, Barbi.  Your time has 
come.  You must join the adult world and take your place in it."
         "I'm saving myself for marriage," I pouted defiantly, finally 
getting my bra back on, straightening the cups with my fingers.  
Reluctantly I saw that my mother was right.  I would have to buy a new 
swimsuit.  My chest had outgrown this one, just like the others, filling 
the cups to the bursting point.  It had happened every summer since my 
twelfth birthday.  I'd start with a decent bra, but by late summer I'd 
find I could not get myself properly covered anymore.  My boobies would 
bulge out around the desperate cups, showing off much more than the 
swimsuit's designer intended.  I hoped this didn't go on too much longer.  
I'd wind up in the Guiness Book of World Records.
         "Tsk!  Marriage!" Kimber announced dismissively.  She tossed her 
head.  Her hand still played upon my mound.  She gazed into my eyes.  
"Even your bra knows you're a big girl now," her gaze seemed to say.  
         "I'm still not coming," I said aloud, as if in answer.  "And take 
your hand off my twat."  She lifted her fingers, but placed them 
alongside my hip, where my bikini panties were tied.  Her other hand 
took up a position on the other side of my hip.  Lightly she toyed with 
the bows which kept my panties tied on.  "You wouldn't..." I said.  She 
tugged at the drawstrings, just a little.
         "Will you come to my party?" she asked.
         "I would, If my arrival didn't mean I'd have to come again."
         "Oh, yes!"  Kimber said happily.  "All night, in fact.  It's what the 
party's for, you know.  But no one will fuck you, unless you want them 
to.  Except, of course, with their tongues."  She tugged on my 
drawstrings a little more.  My nipples indented the cups of my bra, 
forming tiny tents.
         "My mom wouldn't ever let me hang around with you if she knew 
about your parties," I threatened.  Kimber laughed.
         "Helga?  I could tell you all sorts of tales about your mother 
Helga."  A shiver ran up my spine.  My parents had been killed in a car 
crash when I was eight.  Their close friend, Helga, had adopted me.  I'd 
heard stories, dismissing them out of hand when I was a little girl, 
about the parties Helga had invited my parents to.  And they hadn't 
turned down her invitations.  But no, it couldn't be, could it?  I could 
hardly imagine my mother, naked, bucking, rearing, attended upon by 
men in a lavish hotel suite somewhere, others looking on, or fucking, 
my father working himself into a new young virgin, maybe, someone 
like me, while my mother was pinned down, pinned within her pussy.  
Yet my mother (I sometimes called her "my first mother" now), had 
been very beautiful.  And my father handsome.  They would not be easily 
missed, easily passed over in a crowd, at a party.  They would not go 
without invitations to undress, to show their assets, to love and be 
loved in turn.  But the other kids I played with had pretty moms too, and 
tall, strong fathers.  Surely they could not all be up to such things, in 
one way or another?  And Helga herself seemed a very picture of virtue.  
She was always getting after me about my clothes, making sure they 
weren't too immodest.  It bugged me sometimes, but I suppose, walking 
to school each day, a girl had to be careful.  Not a day went by that, no 
matter what I wore, I didn't have men and boys gawking at me.  The 
younger ones actually drooled.  I swear if it wasn't for the security 
patrol in my neighborhood, I wouldn't have made it to school a single 
day this year without being raped.
         And now it looked as if Kimber herself, my best friend, wanted to 
rape me.  Our eyes clashed.  I could have reached up and grabbed her 
bikini bra, yanked it down, or grabbed her own panties, but I wanted to 
defeat her with my will.  It seemed as if Phoebus himself was staring 
down, urging her on.  I knew she was no lesbian, save, perhaps, for the 
pleasure of men.  She wanted what was best for me.  Though, at times, 
it might be hard, might hurt, I knew that, just from talking to the other 
girls at school who'd already done it.  But none of them had a friend like 
Kimberly, so far as I knew.  Perhaps that was what had drawn me to 
her.  She seemed just like me at times, young and careless, and then, at 
other times, a woman, sophisticated, even cunning.
         Suddenly, with flashing fingers, she slipped the ties of my 
panties.  I gasped.  "No," I said.  My panties lay across me, undone, but 
still covering my pubis.  
         "Alright," Kimber said, rising of a sudden to her feet.  Her long 
golden hair swished against her back.  Her tushy, barely encased in 
swim briefs, bulged wantonly, temptingly.
         "My panties..." I began.
         "Tie them up yourself," she said, and strutted off in her high 
heels.  She crossed her immaculately manicured lawn in silence, the 
grass absorbing the sound of her shoes.
***
         I tossed and turned that night in bed.  I wondered what I'd be doing 
now, if I'd accepted Kimberly's invitation.  Or, rather, what would be 
being done to me.  I tried to picture the men at her party.  I knew they 
must be very handsome.  And wealthy.  They would relish a young 
schoolgirl like me.  They would be thoughtful, and kind, and gentle, but 
firm, oh so firm.  I wanted them to be firm.  Somehow I fell asleep at 
last.  I woke up shrouded in melancholia.
         "You look a trifle gloomy today," Kimber teased me when I stopped 
by her place after school.  I plopped down at her kitchen table.  Four out 
of five days at school were "uniform day," and this was one of them.  I 
wore my regulation white blouse and plaid skirt, kneesocks and clunky 
saddle shoes.  Kimber, as usual, was dressed ravishingly in the latest 
fashions.  Even her casualwear was up-to-the-minute fashion plate.  
She had on a sleeveless denim jacket and matching miniskirt, with only 
a flimsy see-through bra beneath the jacket.  It was a jacket, not a 
vest, for it had a collar.  A denim engineer's cap with a shiny silver 
buckle perched jauntily on her head.
         "I'm still saving myself for marriage," I said sullenly.  
         "Of course, dear," Kimber replied.  She sat down across from me 
and began spooning her way into a piece of strawberry cream pie.  Her 
parties kept her from ever having to watch her weight.  "Get some if 
you want it," she said.
         I rose to slice myself a piece of pie and then wondered if she 
meant the pie, or the party?  The pie, of course, but... 

D R E A M G I R L S  L E T T E R S

OLD SUPERHEROES NEVER DIE...

         Yes friends, it is I, Penis Man.  What do I do?  Well, I like flying over 
people, wetting on them.  Usually I do this when rain is approaching.  In 
this way I stand the littlest chance of being suspected.  I have a cloaking 
device.  It cloaks everything except my penis, which is no problem since it 
tends to look like a bird.  (Which itself is no problem since it is...well, you 
get the point.)  
         Sometimes people give me the bird when I pee on them, but most 
never suspect.  I especially like to pee on Yuppies, who go, ÒOh, look dear, 
rain!Ó  They then tell their kids all about rain and how it is healthy and 
good for ecology and stuff.  Farmers are fun too.  I pee on them and they 
say, ÒYep!  Looks like rain.  We could use some rain!Ó  Then I give them 
their own special shower.  (Their wife makes them take a shower when 
they get home, heh heh.)
         Some people have discovered my existence.  This has happened in 
New York.  When I pee on them, they yell, ÒYou dickhead!Ó  Usually some big 
black dude thinks HE is the one being yelled at, and beats the shit out of 
them.  That is pretty funny.  Once, though, I peed in Brentwood, and one of 
my former lovers got cut down to size.  Such is life.
         The next time you think itÕs raining, but youÕre not sure, DONÕT LOOK 
UP!  I give this to you as advice, since you were nice enough to read about 
my existence after I left the Mabell Universe.  Some of us manage to 
escape, you know.  After a lifetime of do-goodism we just canÕt resist a 
dark, perverted existence somewhere.  There are so few competitors to 
Mabell that we are forced to lead solitary, lonely lives, unable to fight 
crime because our trademark status has expired, unable to rescue heroines 
because Mabell owns them all.
         Yes, I will be flying over your head, enjoying myself on your head.  It 
is one of the small consolations of being a retired, out-of-date superhero.

P.S.  If you are a fan of mine, feel free to look for me.  Look in dark alleys, 
late at night, next to liquor stores.  You can probably find me there, 
tanking up for my next adventure.  And beware of my friend Bowel Man.  He 
says life is full of shit, and wants to prove it to you!

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Andrew Roller.  Chat:  alt.sex.stories.d    END OF 108 EMISSION