Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
No. 81 alt.sex.stories
D R E A M G I R L S S T O R I E S
watermelon moon
Part Twenty-Four
by Andrew Roller
Chapter Seventeen
"Come, it's time for your bath," Sandy announced to Angel when she
had finished peeing on the girl. Together Sandy and Rick sat Angel up on
the bed. It felt very wet beneath Angel's bottom. Rick hopped down off
the bed and then, taking Angel by the hand, he helped the blonde as she
tottered back down the wooden stairs to the floor. Still sitting on the
bed, Sandy helped Angel down the stairs too by steadying the girl's bottom
with her hands.
"After your bath we will dress you up in white gloves and stockings
and make you look very pretty for your first enema," Sandy announced to
Angel when the trio had gained the bathroom. A large square tub lay
before them, sunk in the tiled floor. Heaps of bubbles swirled around as
hot water gushed from a gold faucet into the tub.
"ThatÑthat will make me have to take another bath," Angel said of
the proposed enema.
"Of course, dear," Sandy said, as if explaining something simple to a
child. Sandy twirled a finger in one of Angel's long lemon locks as they
stood nude before the tub. "Our entire weekend together is going to be one
long series of scenes where we dress up very sexily, then get totally wild
and ruin ourselves. Then, after a quick hop in the bath, or maybe a squirt
down with the hose out back, we start all over again. I just hope Rick can
keep up with all the action expected of him." Sandy glanced across Angel
to where Rick stood strumming his rod.
"You really don't need to do that, dear," Sandy said to Rick. "We can
more than take care of your penis for you."
"I just don't want to let good girl talk go to waste," Rick said. But
he dropped his hand from his dick.
"Make yourself useful and untie Angel's arms while we wait for the
tub to fill," Sandy said. Rick walked behind Angel and began working at
the knots which bound her.
"Damn, you tie a tough knot," Rick said with a grimace as he
attempted to undo Angel.
"Three years in the girl scouts," Sandy said smugly, placing her
hands on her hips.
"There!" Rick said. Angel felt her wrists separate. Her elbows
remained bound. "One more to go."
A moment later and Angel's bonds slipped from her arms and fell to
the floor. Angel gratefully brought her arms in front of her and rubbed
them with her hands. There were red marks on them where the ropes had
been.
"It feels strange to have the use of my hands again," Angel breathed.
"Enjoy it while you can. It won't last long," Sandy said. Angel looked
at the woman but said nothing. "Now let's have those lovely red boots off,"
Sandy said. As daintily as she had stepped into them, Angel, balancing
herself upon Sandy, stepped out of the boots once more. She had put them
on to have her bottom whipped, and now that her heinie was a virtual map
of the Interstate system the boots were no longer needed.
"Come, I think our tub is ready," Sandy said a minute or so later. She
took Angel by the hand and led her into the water. Rick sat down in the
water, giving a great sigh. But Sandy told Angel to keep standing. Angel
had better luck standing without being perched atop five inch heels, but
she still felt wobbly. Sandy sank into the water before Angel and took a
bar of soap from the ledge along the side of the bathtub. The soap dangled
from the end of a short rope, which Sandy slipped over her neck. The bar
dangled alluringly in the crevice between her breasts.
Sandy put her hands to the soap and began rubbing it, creating lather.
When her palms were covered with white lather she put them to Angel's
thighs and began working the suds into her flesh. Sandy's hands soon
sleeked upward, where they avoided Angel's dry, fluffy pubic mound to
soap her inner thighs and belly. Angel glanced down between her breasts
to see the amazing sight of her pubic hair, like a dry oasis, completely
surrounded by slick wet soap suds.
Up went Sandy's hands, to lather Angel's shoulders and each of her
arms. Like her pubic thatch, her breasts were avoided. Still devoid of
moisture, they stuck straight out, as if defying a bath. Finally Sandy rose
and did Angel's back and, to her surprise, her bottom.
"Rick would be too rough with you if he tried to do your bottom,"
Sandy explained. With each glide of Sandy's hand across her butt Angel
winced. The pain was less now, and much of it had been replaced with a
warm glow. Yet Angel found herself lifting a foot now and then as she
strove to fling off a twitch of pain.
When all of Angel save her breasts and pussy had been washed, Sandy
turned the blonde about and presented her to Rick. He was lounging in the
shallowest part of the tub, and here Angel could kneel without having the
water pass the mid-point of her thighs. Rick bade her to kneel.
"Well, well, how is my little love slave?" Rick asked.
"Fine," Angel said in a soft voice. Suddenly a slap came to her
bottom. Angel winced and nearly toppled forward into Rick. She looked
over her shoulder with surprised eyes at Sandy.
"Don't blame Sandy," Rick said even as Sandy smiled smugly at Angel.
The blonde turned her head back toward Rick. "Sandy is my love slave even
now, but she is senior to you. Her slap was to introduce you to a new form
of address which I will now require of you for as long as we are together.
From now on, you will either address me as 'Master' or 'Sir.' Any deviation
from this will be noted and result in appropriate punishment. I feel that
since you are a guest in my house, with even a ruby collar provided free of
charge, it is hardly an imposition to ask you to call me by my proper
name."
Angel felt a thrill go down her spine as Rick lectured her. She
attempted to fight it, but the erotic allure of being totally in this man's
power attracted her. And he had now set down ground rules, rules in
which she could choose to be a naughty little girl and get him to punish
her.
"I hardly think you could do any more to me than you already
have...sir," Angel said, putting her hands tentatively to her butt to ward
off any further blows. Her fingers just barely grazed her skin and she
wanted to pull them away even as she kept them there as insurance
against Sandy.
Rick laughed. "I admit I gave you a stronger dose of medicine than I
intended, thanks to my wife's undisciplined mouth. Just be glad I didn't
cut that wonderful white flesh of yours. Then we'd both be sorry." Angel
breathed a sigh of relief even as she knelt before the man with her breasts
and pubis thrust out to him. At least he didn't seem terribly sadistic.
Just a fine, playful, aristocratic sadism that promised to give a spoiled
little brat like her the discipline she knew she deserved.
"Well, here's what I think of your excuse," Angel said, and stuck out
her tongue at Rick.
"Whoa!" Rick said, sitting up. The water cascaded off his massive
chest. A peppering of tiny bubbles clung to the hairs of his chest when he
had risen. Angel's hands were still behind her, guarding her bottom. Sandy
took advantage of this by suddenly grasping both Angel's wrists. Sandy
pulled Angel's arms back, thrusting her breasts out farther.
Rick reached behind some bottles of cologne on the tub ledge and
pulled out a Malaccan cane. Angel's eyes widened. She had let Sandy's
fingers slip over her wrists without hardly any struggle. But now she
wriggled vigorously against the woman's grasp. The last thing she wanted
was another whipping! And she doubted this one would fall on her
bottom....
"YouÑyou wouldn't," Angel said. She regarded Rick with fearful eyes.
Her nipples were sticking out awfully far, and they were totally
vulnerable. Rick eyed them.
"Yes, I'm afraid I would...and you just forgot to call me 'sir' twice in
a row," Rick said.
"Please sir," Angel imprecated, squirming like a caught fish in
Sandy's grasp. "Please don't whip me...at least...not my breasts!"
In answer Rick grazed Angel's right breast with the cane. It was
made of a single sliver of bamboo. Flexible, yet resilient. It would last
long in any contest with Angel's bosoms.
"Perhaps I should draw blood this time," Rick said. Angel's eyes
bulged.
"No!" Angel cried, tearing at Sandy's grasp. It took all the woman's
might to restrain her. The water in the tub rocked to and fro.
"Tch, tch, you've gotten a few droplets of water on your pubic hair,"
Rick said, touching two fingers to a drop there. Angel's writhing subsided
as Rick's fingers touched her mound. One by one Rick squeezed the
droplets from Angel's hair, wiping his fingers on a nearby towel before
proceeding to the next drop. "Well, I suppose drawing blood would be a bit
much, especially if you're planning to adorn my cabin for some time to
come," Rick said. "I would like to show off your lovely body to my friends
some time." He lifted his eyes to Angel's. "But now I count three
occasions on which you failed to call me 'sir.' Certainly a little
punishment is in order. And with such delectable breasts sticking
impudently out at me, well, they almost beg for disciplining."
Without further ado Rick raised the cane and brought it down sharply
upon Angel's right breast. She drew in her breath but held off any cry.
Again the cane came down, this time on her left breast. Angel's response
was a little mew. With a moderate show of resistance she strained
against Sandy's grasp.
Whack! Whack! Whack! came the Malaccan cane, each leaving a
bright pink stripe in its wake. Angel bit her lower lip, tears welling in
her eyes. So far her precious nipples had managed to avoid the cane. But
with each stroke Rick seemed to strike closer to them. Whack! Whack!
Whack! continued the rain of blows, and tears began to streak Angel's
already mussed face. Stale urine and spoiled makeup commingled in
Angel's rivulets of tears. The man had already spanked and whipped her
bottom, and peed in her face! How could he inflict this further cruelty on
her?
A fairly light stroke was the first to hit Angel's tender pink areola.
Rick seemed to be measuring how much harshness he could inflict on this
particularly tender region of Angel's body without drawing blood.
Confident that more force could be safely applied, his next stroke was
harsher. Angel winced and writhed under the blow. More fell, each
whacking her right on her deliciously sensitive nipples. A few blows did
in fact miss, and Rick announced that for each blow that did not fall where
intended another would be provided to make up for it.
Angel was sobbing openly by the time Rick tossed aside his cane.
Sandy, sensing her presence at Angel's rear was no longer required, glided
through the foam to offer her soap on a rope to Rick's hands. With eager
fingers he delved between his wife's breasts to take as much lather from
her as he required.
"Some day I'm going to have you offer milk to me too," Rick said.
Sandy looked down with loving eyes as Rick soaped himself between her
bosoms. Beyond Angel was bawling like a little girl, still kneeling before
Rick, her fists at her eyes.
"You may do that sooner than you think," Sandy said. "I didn't take my
pill last night." Even Angel had to take her hands from her eyes and
suppress her howling when she heard this. Was Sandy pregnant?
"What?" Rick cried. "You mean we've been playing around like this
and you haven't even taken your pill? What if some of my semen floated
through the bathwater and slipped inside you? Or what about when I stuck
my penis up you in the shower. Now I know why you suddenly seemed
scared when I made you take me!"
"I know," Sandy said. "If you had ejaculated I would be pregnant now.
Maybe you did let out one little sperm, and I am pregnant!" Sandy smiled
brightly, even as her eyes showed a trace of fear.
"No, I didn't let anything out...I wasn't at that point yet, even though I
was hard," Rick said. "No wonder you didn't let me stay up you."
"IÑI wasn't sure I was ready," Sandy said. She let her fingers alight
upon the head of Rick's cock, which had risen during the conversation to
poke above the foamy water. "But now I am." Sandy's fingers lightly
squeezed Rick's cockhead.
A snuffle from Angel reminded the pair of their guest. "First things
first," Rick said, and took his now lathered hands from between Sandy's
breasts and put them to Angel's.
"Oooch!" Angel cried, wincing at the contact of his calloused palms
to her striped mammaries.
"Gently," Sandy cautioned Rick. Her fingers trailed down the stem of
his penis.
With easy strokes Rick lathered Angel's breasts. Several times he
returned to his wife's breasts for more lather. Angel mewed as little
spasms of pain accompanied Rick's washing of her tits.
"I want to be a mother someday too," Angel said as Rick turned his
attention to her pubic mound. His hands, roving through her hair there,
seemed to seize her more firmly as she made her impromptu remark.
"That can be arranged," Rick breathed. "But you must first learn to
call me 'sir.'"
"Sir, I would like to have a baby too," Angel mewed.
Dick noticed that both girls cradled in his arms were now asleep. He
glanced over at Bob and Lori. They had drifted off as well. "So much for
being a great storyteller," Dick said aloud to the moon. The man in the
luminescent sphere gazed out at him from a mirror reflecting the risen
moon outside. Nearly half the man was gone, but enough remained to give
Dick the feeling that the moon was watching him, with one eye, as he lay
naked in bed. "Damn faggot," Dick said. The moon kept peering. Dick shut
his eyes and quickly fell asleep.
The next night Dick sat alone on the grassy knoll with Willette,
watching the moon rise again. From the cabin the sounds of laughter could
be heard as Bob engaged Lori and Cindy in a game of strip Monopoly.
Willette looked at Dick. A glum look had come over his face. She
knew what that meant; he was reflecting on his dead wife. "Dickie,"
Willette breathed. The man made no response. "Dickie," Willette said
again, her voice slightly stern. "Stop thinking about your wife, Dickie, it
makes me sad." Dick looked over at her and caressed her far shoulder.
"Sorry," Dick said. "It's just you remind me so much of her."
"Maybe we shouldn't get married then, Dick," Willette said. "I don't
want to spend the rest of my life reminding the man I love of some other
woman."
"No, no," Dick protested. "Don't say that."
"Dickie," Willette asked. She looked up at the moon. Watermelon
moon. "Dickie, would you say that the moon is half empty or half full? I
mean, is it getting bigger or getting smaller?" Dick struggled to
remember the moon as it was last night, the night before. It had been full
not too long ago, he thought. Or had it been? The days and nights all
seemed to blend together here at their cabin.
"I don't know, half empty, I guess," Dick mused. What the hell did he
care about the moon? Romantic girl.
"Well, I say it's half full," Willette said.
"That's what I like about you, you're always optimistic," Dick
breathed. He kissed her.
"And you're always threatening to turn into a grump," Willette said.
"I've been through a lot," Dick sighed. "But I'm sure that together you
and I can find a new life. Especially with children." He kissed her again.
"Oh, Dickie, I love you," Willette said. They were both sitting naked
on the grass and she wiggled her bottom closer to his.
"I know," Dick breathed. "And I love you too. And that little baby
growing inside of you." He stroked her tummy. It was still flat, just a
gentle mound, but that had always been there. Willette looked down at
herself and watched as he caressed her. How many more Watermelon
Moons before she was heavy with child? Before she gave birth? Would her
baby be born on a night with a Watermelon Moon? "Half empty indeed,"
Willette tutted.
They were all ensconced in the bedroom that night, nestled in one
another's arms, when Dick suddenly tensed. He heard the front door creak
open.
"Damn! I forgot to lock the front door!" Dick hissed. Lori rolled off
the bed, quick as a fox. Willette heard Lori ratchet back the toggle on her
machine gun. One thing Willette had to admit; when it came to guns the
woman was a pro. She seemed very good at strategy too. Willette was
still contemplating what action she herself might take when the slow
footfalls of heavy boots materialized as a shadow in the bedroom's
doorway.
"Freeze, fucker!" Lori hissed at the figure. It seemed to flinch.
"Whoa, momma!" Willette breathed a loud sigh of relief. It was
Steven!
"Steven you meanie!" Cindy cried. The girl sat straight up in the bed.
Her breasts jiggled violently from the force with which she had risen.
Slowly Lori rose, the gun still in her hands. Then she leaned it against the
wall and crawled back into bed.
"Sexually abusing 12-year-olds, eh, Stevie?" Lori asked
reproachfully.
"Just providing a service to our young," Steven said nonchalantly. He
unbuckled his pants. "You'll note in the morning that there's a new notch in
my leather belt." His jeans slithered down his legs. Willette gazed at his
dark, shadowed figure. Did he? Yes! As Steve turned slightly sideways a
handsome erection bobbled its profile into view.
"You're a molester, that's what you are!" Cindy said accusingly. "I'm
going to report you to the police and they'll cut your balls off!"
"Tch! A boy fucked me when I was 12, and I was glad he did it,"
Willette said. She was lying next to Cindy, the girl cradled between her
and Dick. Willette stroked a finger up the crevice between Cindy's labia
lips.
"Tell us a story, Steven," Bob suggested. The boy made a point of not
crawling into bed on the side Bob was on.
"A story?" Steve asked. Willette had little doubt that there was
something much more important on the boy's mind than stories.
"Yes," Willette concurred. "Don't think you can just hop right in and
start fucking away. We all told each other stories last night. Now, if you
intend to still be a part of our group, it's your turn."
"Fuck, I don't know any stories," Steve said.
"You should be able to think up at least one," Cindy offered. "I'll bet
you watched cartoons all morning!" Willette suppressed a giggle with
some difficulty.
"Yeah, well, you missed 'em," Steve said.
"I'm a grownup. I don't need to watch Saturday morning cartoons,"
Cindy said. "Anyways they're all reruns."
"Tell us a story, big boy," Lori urged, her hand finding its way to his
penis and tweaking it.
"All right, all right, if you guys insist. But I'll be making it up as I
go, so don't get pissed if I fuck it up," Steve relented.
"Don't fuck it up or you won't get to fuck," Lori said smugly. Her
fingers seemed to measure the circumference of his rod in the dark.
"Well, let's see, I'll call my heroine Cindy," Steve said. He laughed.
"You'd better make only good things happen to me!" Cindy snapped.
"Well, this Cindy was blonde, bleach blonde, not a red head like you,"
Steve sneered at his beau.
"I like being a red head!" Cindy snapped. "And I'm special. My hair is
blonde with streaks of red. And I have no freckles."
"Well, I only like girls who are true blondes," Steve said, seemingly
splitting hairs to antagonize his girlfriend. "Unless, of course, I've got a
full pair of balls. Then I'll fuck any slut who comes along, even one with
red streaked hair."
"OoooH!" Cindy cried. She meant to roll over Dick and slap Steven,
but Willette restrained her.
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