Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
No. 24    Sunday    June 18, 1995  
alt.stories.erotic  alt.sex.stories

D R E A M G I R L S  S T O R I E S
Chambers of Love
Part Twenty-Three
by Andrew Roller 

Chapter Twelve

         "Ah, enough!  Put her to the post!" the count ordered.  The girls 
laughed.  With helpful efficiency they led me tottering back up to it, 
and Tom reigned me in.  A moment later I was chained as before, but the 
tushy I stuck out now was smarting badly.  I wiggled it in the air to try 
to cool it.  Tom thought I was inviting him to begin.
         "OW!" I cried, as new lines imprinted themselves on me.  I sobbed 
once, tried to hold in my tears.  
         SPLACK!  SPLACK!  SPLACK!  Tom whipped me more swiftly now, 
as if to build me toward some pinnacle of pain.  I screeched and 
hollered and danced about like I'd sat in nettles, all in my polished new 
boots.  The kerchief danced a jig of its own.
         "Enough!  No!  Please!" I pleaded, looking right at Tom and begging 
him to stop.  My bottom felt like it was being branded now.  He licked 
his lips and ignored me.  I looked and saw that he was stroking his big 
thing.  Behind me the count's penis was being treated to a double blow 
job, as a kneeling Julie and Erica laved his member.  Occasionally one or 
the other would glance over her shoulder at me, mouth wide, smiling, 
and glistening, as if to derive new erotic inspiration from my plight.  
Elle watched me from behind the count's back, where she stroked and 
pinched his muscular buttocks.  Playfully he thrust himself forward 
now and then, working his loins as if in the throes of orgasm.  The girls 
at his cock giggled and tittered.
         "YEEEEOW!" I cried, as my poor bottom received yet another 
correcting imprint upon it, the lines laying themselves over earlier 
wounds.  I cried raggedly between screams.  All my imprecations to 
Tom for mercy went unanswered.  I swore I would run away as soon as 
they unbuckled me.  I stamped my feet and snorted, bawled my heart 
out, but no one heard.
****
         The next morning I stood inspecting my wounds in front of a full-
length mirror.  I'd just awoken, prematurely, given the long night, due 
to the plight of my bottom.  
         A sunbeam shafted pure morning sunlight through a window, right 
onto my bottom.  It was virgin-white no more.  Cruel red lines spread 
everywhere across it, interlinking along every centimeter of it as if to 
form some metropolitan roadmap.  There were several weals.  I touched 
them gingerly.  The snake-like lumps were new to me.  They scared me.  
I wondered how long it would take them to disappear.  
         I had no one to blame for this but myself, wearing a slinky red 
bikini down into a dungeon that only days before I'd been tortured in.  I 
bent over slightly and slivers of sharp pain went shooting up within my 
ass and radiated over my legs and torso.  Sitting down was definitely 
out of the question.  
         "Oooh!  Let me rub more salve onto that," Julie purred admiringly.  
She was becoming one of them.  They had spared her last night, the 
count saying she gave exceptional head.  Her marital training, no doubt. 
         She rose from where she'd just awakened, on the cool sheets of 
our bed.  All soft and naked and her boobies wobbling, Julie fetched a 
bottle from the nightstand, padded across the room, and slipped behind 
me.  She knelt and caressed in more cream.  She kissed the small of my 
back when she was done.  Then she eased me back into bed and rolled 
into my arms to comfort me.  The plight of my bottom receded slightly 
as she deliberately slipped a hand onto my pussy and softly rubbed me.
         "The count said it's my job to comfort you," Julie said.  "And I 
intend to do my duty."  She bade me relax, that she was just going to 
rub me gently, playfully.  I responded by giving her a playful hand of my 
own.  Together we went swooning into sleep.

Chapter Thirteen

         The days passed languidly, easily.  Julie and I played in the back 
yard and picked flowers and ate with the count when he was home.  
Every three nights or so he dressed us up in nothing outfits and took us 
down and punished us in his dungeon.  Elle always gave us a physical 
first.  Various guests were invited to observe.  Sometimes it was 
almost a party atmosphere, and I enjoyed those evenings, save for my 
smarting bottom.  Other times it was more somber, according to his 
mood.  The whippings were usually harsher then.  I could count on 
getting some weals on those nights.
         One day Julie and I were sunning ourselves when the count came 
home early.  He said there was a matter he was not qualified to handle, 
and that we were to visit a woman that evening, who was having a 
little party.  We were delighted at this, a chance to meet other women 
and socialize.  Happily we dressed for it right after dinner and a 
carriage picked us up.
         We were let out before a greathouse, and the carriage's driver led 
us up to the front door, where we were let right in by a maid.  In the 
living room a woman named Jane greeted us, the hostess.  She was 28 
and very smooth, very elegant.  Other young ladies arrived and we stood 
about exchanging small talk.  Many of them spoke English fluently, so 
there was no language barrier between us.
         After everyone had arrived and gotten settled and sampled the 
wines and the snacks Jane took on a tone of solemnity and called 
everyone to attention.  
         "I'm sure most of you know why we are here tonight," she said.  "It 
is a very special occasion."  I thought at this moment she might say it 
was to meet two Americans, myself and Julie.  How naive I was.  "I'm 
glad you are all willing to take this step.  I know your body is important 
to you and for some of you it must have seemed like the wrong decision.  
I myself faced such a decision some years ago and I'm glad I went 
ahead.  You will be too."  Then, to my surprise, she bade us to undress 
and, with much merriment and false modesty, the assembled young 
ladies did so.  
         "MUST we take off everything?" a young woman piped up.
         [Hey, honey, this is written by Roller.  What the fuck do you THINK 
the answer is?  (Oops!) -h.j.]
         "Yes, you must support your friends who are having the full 
treatment," Jane replied demurely.  "You must not dissuade them by 
making them feel embarrassed because you are showing less."  When we 
were utterly nude she led the assembled group into an adjoining room.  
She sat down on a wooden stool.  We plopped down onto the plushly 
carpeted floor.  There were cameras in the room, manned by young girls, 
to record the upcoming event for the private viewing of each women's 
husband.
         Jane had astonished me when she first bared her breasts during 
the undressing, for a tiny golden link chain dangled between her nipples.  
I had wondered a moment at this but then gotten caught up in my own 
diminishing sense of modesty as I faced the prospect of lowering my 
panties.  Now, however, I gazed again at this strange adornment.  It was 
beautiful, glinting in the light, flashing.  Yet I wondered how it was 
fastened to such an intimate part of her body.
         A smoking brazier was brought in by two little girls, attended 
upon by an old woman, still dressed.  Jane beckoned the young wife 
closest to her and the female rose and padded submissively over to her.  
Jane sat her on her knee.  Jane's legs casually fell apart and I saw a 
sudden gleam between them, at the juncture of her thighs.  Another gold 
object, this a ring, and somehow affixed right where her clit should be.  
I sat cross-legged on the carpet puzzling at this.  I did not think to ask 
Julie, not knowing if she'd observed the strange objects yet.
         Jane ran her palm soothingly over the young wife's tummy as the 
female perched on her knee.  The little girls who had brought in the 
brazier scuttled to a far wall, quietly joining their mates who manned 
the cameras.  The old woman knelt before the young wife, kneeling on a 
little stool that had been provided for her.  The brazier smoked atop a 
tripod.  Jane cooed into the young wife's ear and told her to erect her 
nipples.  Obediently the female began playing with her tits and drew 
them first one, then the other, up to her own mouth, bending her neck 
down to suck upon the nipples.  In the corners of the room the cameras 
began recording.  
         Jane beckoned two supplicants (who were to follow the young 
wife) and bade them suckle the wife so that her nipples would be fully 
erect.  Ravishingly nude, with large glorious breasts of their own, the 
two females rose as ordered and padded over to the young wife on 
Jane's knee.  They bent on either side of her, heedless of showing us 
their bare bottoms, and softly each took a breast in hand and nursed it.  
         I glanced about the room.  The women were all very beautiful, the 
finest in French society.  Each sported a pair of marvelous mammaries, 
soft and white, capped by cherry teats.  By now just about everyone's 
nipples were sprouting, thanks to the erotic tableau unfolding before 
us.
         The young wife moaned, bit her lip.  She moaned again, tossed 
back her head.  Jane caressed her long, golden hair.
         "She is ready," said the old woman, and gently pried away by their 
heads the two females who so ardently suckled her breasts.  A string of 
saliva spun out as each mouth departed from its tit.  With a demure lick 
of her lips each of the nurslings retired to her seat on the carpet.  (We 
all sat on the carpet, save Jane, so that the cameras would have an 
unobstructed view of the proceedings.)
         I sat wonderingly as Jane now gently cupped the right breast of 
the young wife on her knee and kissed her reassuringly.  What was about 
to happen?  Certainly her bottom was not going to be put to pillage, she 
was still sitting on that.  What could they do with her nipple?  The old 
woman seized it, right at the base, making it extrude from the breast.  
Then she lifted, with pincers, a tiny pin-like dowel from the brazier.  
The young wife drew back her shoulders and stretched her neck as if to 
try to get away.  She let out a suppressed little yelp as she watched the 
ascent of the hot dowel.  
         Suddenly, in a flash, the old woman stabbed the dowel right into 
the girl's nipple!  Right through the side, holding it a moment, then 
withdrawing.  From a pan of ice suspended below the hot brazier, which 
I had not taken notice of before, she drew forth a second, blunted dowel 
with her pincers.  This she placed into the hole that had just been 
punched through the side of the young wife's nipple.
         There was a small amount of blood, which Jane quickly wiped 
away with a linen handkerchief.  A little girl advanced and took away 
the soiled square of linen, gave Jane a clean one.
         Swiftly the old woman grasped the young wife's other breast and 
extruded its nipple.  Another moment of fear, the young wife drawing 
back, as if to detach herself from her imprisoned teat, then the 
stabbing, the pain, the sizzle and smell of flesh and the hiss of 
coldness.
         "There, there, it's all over now, aren't you proud?" Jane cooed to 
the young wife.  She kissed her on the cheek.  Her cheeks were rosy, 
flushed.  Jane patted away dots of perspiration on her forehead.  "She 
did very good, girls, don't you think?" Jane asked.
         "Yes."
         "Yes,m," they chimed, one after another.
         "And now the final touch," Jane said, as the old woman lifted a 
tiny golden chain and attached it between the wife's breasts.  It swung 
gently in the reflected light of the room, casting bits of brilliant 
flashes amongst us.
         "You were very brave.  Your husband will be proud of you," Jane 
reassured the young wife.  "Now up with you, up!"  She urged her up by 
palming her bare bottom.  
         The young wife stood, unsteady at first, then walked back toward 
her place.  As she walked she gazed down at her newly adorned boobies 
with their little pins in the nipples, the decorative chain swinging 
easily between them.  She cupped her hands beneath her breasts and 
hefted them, weighed the bosoms as if handling grapefruit.  The chain 
danced.  Then she reached her place and sat down.  She watched the 
jiggling of her breasts as her butt hit the floor.  
         "Julie!" I whispered urgently, seizing her arm where she sat 
Indian-style beside me.  Like myself, her cunt was openly displayed to 
all who cared to observe, due to the cross-legged splay of her thighs.  
And, like me until a moment ago, her hands were behind her, pressed to 
the carpet.   This meant throwing her shoulders back, which in turn 
announced her presence to the world through the jutting of her large, 
lovely bosoms.  Her nipples were fully extended.
         "Julieee!" I said again, under my breath, succeeded in breaking her 
concentration.  "What is this?!"
         "Oh!" Julie lifted a hand.  "Didn't the count tell you?  It's a nipple 
piercing party.  We're having our nipples pierced!"  She tossed her long 
brown mane of hair nonchalantly and returned her eyes to the next in 
line.
         The next young wife came loping forward, confident and assured.  
Her generous bosoms bounced as she walked, free and unadorned for the 
last time.  She plopped down on Jane's knee and turned and gave our 
hostess a kiss.  Then she confidently faced the woman with the brazier 
and stuck out her tits.
         "Are they fully hard?" the old woman asked.
         "Oh!" the young wife answered, taken aback a bit, and bent to 
check, lifting a hand and tweezer-like pinching her right nipple.  Then 
she lifted her other hand as well and pinched her left nipple also.  For a 
moment she sat there squeezing her nipples gently, prising them up 
from her bosoms.
         "Turn around," Jane urged the girl.  The young wife twisted back 
her torso to face toward Jane, who cupped her breasts and began 
nursing at the closest.  A moment later Jane smacked her lips, said she 
was satisfied, and proceeded to suck upon the other teat.  Then she 
released the girl, who turned back to the woman with the brazier and 
dutifully presented her luscious bosoms once more.
         It was then that I noticed that the woman with the brazier was 
the only flat-chested woman in the room.  She wore robes which 
billowed out fully when she bent, but lay nearly flat against her chest 
when she knelt erectly, with only the feeblest hint of tit flesh.  As I 
examined her lined face I realized she was not of our class, but a hired 
hand, from the lower classes of Paris.  The old crone had no breasts to 
speak of, and so had devoted her life, in my opinion, to ruining the full, 
rosy breasts of young girls like those around me.  Perhaps it was the 
crone herself who had spread the belief that nipples used as posts for 
hanging jewelry were somehow sexy.  
         I admit the effect of the swinging, golden chain connecting one's 
nipples intrigued, even impressed me, but the method of getting there!  
Having one's nipples actually pierced?!  I watched spellbound as the 
young wife on Jane's knee had first, then the other tit punctured, 
uttering only the tiniest of pained cries.  Then her chain was attached 
by Jane and she stood.  Proudly she padded back to her place, watching 
just at the base of her vision as her dowelled nipples danced with their 
little swinging chain.
         The next young wife came up, tits jouncing carelessly, with an 
experienced, almost coarse countenance.  She sat on Jane's knee and it 
was discovered that her nipples were barely risen at all.  With a sigh 
Jane had the young woman turn to her and began nursing.  The girl 
proved relatively unresponsive.  Jane lifted her head, urged her to think 
erotic thoughts.  Finally the girl got her nipples up and the crone 
pierced her.   
         "Girls," Jane addressed us, when the girl had returned to her 
place.  "We must be a bit speedier.  Madam Leprickett has a later 
engagement scheduled as well.  Some of you are coming up here not as 
stiff as you should be.  Please take a finger and gently stroke 
yourselves.  This may help."  She indicated what we should do by 
spreading her legs and taking her fingertip and then lightly drawing it 
between the lips of her cunt.  Then she wet her finger in her mouth and 
touched it to her clitty.  "Even those of you who don't plan to have the 
full treatment should touch yourselves here," Jane explained.  "An 
excited clitty arouses your entire body."  
         Obediently every girl began stroking her own cunny.  Soft moans 
escaped their lips, a few shuddered as soon as they found their spot.  I 
looked at Julie.  She was already obeying, stroking her slit very nicely 
with a wetened finger.  She looked at me expectantly.  Not knowing 
what to do, I began also.  
         I ran my finger over the outer edges of my cunt at first.  Then, 
realizing that all was visible, I put my finger within the lips and 
stroked the more sensitive regions.  I licked my finger as the other 
girls were doing and found my clitoris.  I shivered, did not want to do 
this.  But I knew I had to continue to fit in with them until I could 
devise a plan of escape.
         The next girl, it was announced, was going to get the full 
treatment.  A gasp went up from the assembled females.  A winsome 
lass, shy, with slender shoulders and a slim torso, rose quietly.  Her 
bosoms were breathtakingly large.  She stepped softly to the front of 
the room and settled on Jane's knee, turned and gave our hostess a kiss 
on her lips.  Then she faced the old woman and, with girlish intensity, 
drew back her arms behind her and thrust forth her young breasts.

D R E A M G I R L S  N E W S

EXON MASTURBATES IN PUBLIC!
Believe it or Not by Holy Joe

         Late Thursday Senator Exon was discovered masturbating outside the 
ladiesÕ room near the Capitol Rotunda.
         ÒDammit!  This is why I needed to get my ÔDecency in 
Telecommunications BillÕ passed,Ó Exon yelled at me.  ÒItÕs so you media 
types canÕt report over the airwaves all the dirty things I do.  DonÕt you 
dare tell anyone on the Internet that I masturbated in public or IÕll fine 
you $100,000 for transmitting indecent comments!Ó
         As Exon was yelling at me a photo fell out of his pocket.  To be 
polite, I bent over and picked it up to give it back to him.  After all, he is a 
Senator.  But as I gazed at the photo I saw it was a picture from the little 
girlsÕ bathroom.
         ÒSenator Exon, you have not just been masturbating over the ladies 
in the ladiesÕ room,Ó I scolded him.  ÒYou have been peering into the little 
girlsÕ bathroom and taking pictures of them sitting on the potty.Ó
         ÒWell, youÕd better not report it,Ó Exon said.  ÒIÕll throw you in 
prison for two years!  And fine you ANOTHER $100,000!Ó
         Exon grabbed the picture from me, adding, ÒAt least my photos from 
the little BOYSÕ bathroom didnÕt fall out of my pocket!Ó
         Just then a policeman came by.  He saw Senator Exon and asked him 
if there was any problem.
         ÒYes!  This Holy Joe character has been saying indecent things to 
me!Ó Exon cried.
         ÒWHAT?!Ó The policeman roared.
         ÒI was only telling him--Ó I began.
         ÒSo you ADMIT IT?!Ó the policeman shouted.  He hit me over the head 
with his nightstick and dragged me off.  Fortunately, a doughnut truck 
came by and he began drooling at the mouth.  His momentary inattention to 
what he was doing gave me the chance I needed.  I escaped!
         Do not fear, loyal readers.  Despite being a WANTED FUGITIVE (at 
least by a doughnut hungry policeman) I, holy joe, will continue to report 
on the activities of Senator Exon.

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

NOW I KNOW you are insane, writes wilbur mills@packwood.hart.  Here it 
is only Friday night and already I see the Sunday Dreamgirls up on a.s.s.  
How am I supposed to organize my carousing at the local bars and 
nightclubs if you are busy telling me it is the LordÕs day?
         Dear Penitent:  Yes, we still know what day it is.  Due to our global 
audience, we are now running Dreamgirls on ÒGuam time.Ó  Guam is where 
AmericaÕs day begins.  It is on the other side of the international dateline.  
So if it is Saturday afternoon in Guam, expect to see the Sunday 
Dreamgirls up on a.s.s. no later than 12 a.m. Sunday (Guam time).  (This 
means that it will still be Friday in America (Òthe statesÓ) when the 
Sunday Dreamgirls appears.)
         To calculate Guam time, figure out what time it is in Washington 
D.C.  (U.S.A. East coast time.)  Then subtract 10 hours during daylight 
savings time (summer), and nine hours during standard time (winter).  
Then add one day.  This will give you the time in Guam.
         (This, of course, is a proposed schedule.  We are doing this only as a 
hobby and other Òreal worldÓ events may intervene.)  (WhoÕs that yelling, 
ÒOpen up!  Cybercops!Ó at my door?)

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