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Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
FEVERED FALL
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Chapter Seventeen
Though all outside is chaos, within the crumbled remains of the Sky
Dwelling the Tamagotchi lies safe, glowing with the pleasure of its
cybernetic inhabitants. Chloe, a 13-year-old Palm Pet, has no idea her
world has been created by a nerdy programmer whoÕs never had a
girlfriend. She thinks sheÕs real. Thanks to her programmer, sheÕs doomed
to suffer in the most perverse ways. And the lifetime battery pack in her
Tamagotchi, though owned by no one now, is destined to pit Chloe against
sexual fiends for decades to come...
The Sultan chuckled. He waved forward one of the European women.
I later learned her name was Jessica. She was the one whoÕd left a puddle
on my auntieÕs chair. She walked with a salacious gait, rolling her naked
hips, clearly aroused and eager for any man present, apparently, to plumb
her privates with his cock. She carried a small black bag. I trembled,
seeing it, gasping from my three orgasms and wondering, in my gagged,
speechless condition, what new horrors awaited me.
Jessica put the bag down between my open legs, on my ÔthroneÕ. She
pulled it open. She drew out a stethoscope. She slung it around her neck.
It fell, snakelike, between her breasts.
ÒOh! ItÕs cold!Ó Jessica said, as the metal disk at the end of it
touched her skin. Her nipples, already taut, tightened further and
displayed their tips more prominently. They were like cherry stems, I
thought, in search of satisfaction in the mouth of anyone. Simply apply
your teeth and pull. She would not mind. She was lusty and free. She was
also apparently, a nurse, for she said: ÒI must listen to your heart, both of
you.Ó My auntieÕs eyes widened. To be examined, in such condition, bound
and helpless on chairs designed to torture us!
Jessica lifted the stethoscopeÕs metal disk. She raised it from her
belly, touching it gently with her fingers. She placed it against the warm
contour of my left breast. The disk did feel cold. I jerked, just a little,
and Jessica sighed and told me to be still. The feather touching my clit
withdrew, so that I might be still for my exam.
Jessica listened to my heart. Her bosoms hung nakedly before my
eyes. Her bottom, bare and sexy, moved slowly from left to right,
displaying its spheric proportions to the two princes and the Sultan. The
remaining prince cast off his toga. His cock was a hardy piston, ready for
pneumatic glory, I thought, gazing at it with wide eyes. The three females
partying with him ÒoohedÓ and ÒaahedÓ at his cock. Then they giggled, for
all was teasing still. With the Sultan present, they could not fuck,
apparently, until the Sultan had first given his permission by claiming one
of the girls present for himself. He, however, was still entranced by my
aunt and me. He remained in his robes. He told us, as Jessica reported our
regular, rhythmic heartbeats to him, that he was pleased with our
Òprogress.Ó
ÒYou have each experienced your first orgasms in my kingdom, and
will, I am sure, experience many more,Ó the Sultan said with gleeful eyes.
ÒTake their temperatures too,Ó the Sultan told Jessica.
Jessica smiled. ÒSire, their bottoms would provide the most
accurate reading, but they are both sitting on them,Ó Jessica said to the
Sultan. I got the impression she would like my aunt and me lifted up, that
she might inquire into our holes! Jessica affected a bored look, perhaps to
cover for her devious designs, and added, ÒAs for their mouths, they are
gagged.Ó
ÒDo we have no ear thermometers?Ó the Sultan asked.
ÒNo, sire,Ó Jessica said. ÒYou expressly forbade them.Ó
ÒAh, yes,Ó the Sultan said. ÒUngag our guests, then.Ó
Jessica looked disappointed. She did, truly, I think, wish to see my
auntie and me poked in our bottoms, though for what purpose, other than
evil delight, I do not know. She complained to the Sultan that she could
not undo my gag, or my auntÕs, for doing so might break her long, lustrous
nails.
ÒGuards!Ó the Sultan called. Jessica blanched. For a moment I
thought (indeed, hoped!) sheÕd gotten into trouble. The guards came in
from the hall, where they were standing watch. My heart jumped when I
saw them. Each one had a large protrusion in the front of his sarong.
ÒAh, gentlemen, I see you have become aroused,Ó the Sultan
observed, gazing at his guards below their waists. Indeed, all of us
stared, for each man possessed a long, healthy banana-like stiffie over
which draped the front of his sarong.
ÒSorry, sire,Ó a guard answered. ÒIt is the sound of the girls
screaming that aroused us.Ó I blushed. It was my screams, and those of
my aunt, I realized, which had made these guards erect! The guard who
spoke to the Sultan was a burly man, with a hairy chest, yet he spoke to
the Sultan with careful deference. He wore his sword sheathed in a belt
at his waist. I thought him most handsome, in a rough sort of way. I
wondered if female captives of the Sultan were ever given to the guards
for a night of pleasure. The thought made me shiver. That set my bare
breasts quivering. The husky guard, approaching me, looked at my bosoms
with interest.
ÒIf I may say so, you have a fine pair of tits,Ó the guard murmured to
me. He stepped behind my chair to remove my gag.
ÒThank you,Ó I gasped, when his sturdy fingers had undone the black
cloth wedged between my lips.
ÒI should like to put something more substantial in your mouth,Ó the
guard whispered to me.
ÒChloe, Rebecca! How are you two doing?Ó the Sultan asked both my
aunt and I, as if addressing guests at cocktail hour in a sedate bar. My
aunt and I gasped. I coughed a little; amazed that I could breathe through
my mouth again.
ÒPlease, let us go!Ó my aunt said. Her voice was shrill.
ÒNonsense, my dear,Ó the Sultan answered. ÒYou sound like a virgin,
newly deflowered. Yet I suspect a probing of your cunt would reveal
youÕve tasted cock before. This will be a difficult ride, but you can
manage. You are both quite healthy. You can take it. You will both have
plenty of time to recuperate afterward, and servants to attend to you,
doctors to assist with any injuries you may receive.Ó
ÒOh, God!Ó my aunt shouted.
ÒNO!Ó I cried.
The Sultan laughed. ÒHave I scared you? It was not my purpose.
Have some wine. Perhaps it will buoy your feelings a little.
Lightheadedness would not be altogether bad in such circumstances, eh?Ó
ÒDo not resist, darling. I must take your temp,Ó Jessica told my
aunt. She popped a glass thermometer in my auntÕs mouth and bade her
keep her lips compressed until it had registered. My aunt squirmed but
obeyed. In the meantime, the Sultan drifted to where I sat bound, and
gazed at me with affectionate eyes.
ÒI shall have you whipped in a bit, Chloe,Ó the Sultan told me. ÒDo
not hate me for it, eh? It will do you good to have a proper lashing on your
back.Ó
I stared up at him from my chair. At last I said, ÒArenÕt my arms in
the way?Ó I coughed again, perhaps from nervousness at speaking to a
man in such an odd way, with my legs splayed, my cunt all wet and
showing, my arms tightly fastened behind my back.
ÒIndeed,Ó the Sultan said. ÒYou raise an excellent point, Chloe,Ó the
Sultan said. ÒI shall have your arms lifted first. You get a star, my dear,
for making such an observation. How pleasant it is to have a girl
participate in her own arrangements for torture.Ó
I gulped. ÒI didnÕt mean to,Ó I said.
ÒTempÕs normal,Ó Jessica said, pulling the thermometer from my
auntÕs mouth. She lowered it. ÒPerhaps, dear Sultan, given the plans you
have for both these girls, I should also check their pussysÕ temperatures?Ó
Jessica asked.
ÒOf course!Ó the Sultan said. ÒStick it right in. Neither one can
resist, anyhow.Ó
It was done. My aunt shuddered as the glass thermometer was
inserted in her cunt. It was wet from the saliva of her mouth. The nurse,
whom I was beginning to think was a make-believe nurse, warned my aunt
not to squeeze her cuntlips too tightly, lest she break the slim glass rod.
ÒOh! IÕm trying not to squeeze!Ó my aunt said. Her body trembled,
making her pussy lips tighten. The nurse monitored her carefully. She
slipped the thermometer back and forth in her wet gash to make sure my
aunt wasnÕt squeezing tighter than she should. There was a small rubber
ball at the finger-end of the thermometer, to keep the nurseÕs body heat
from transferring itself to the glass.
ÒTempÕs normal again,Ó the nurse told the Sultan, withdrawing the
thermometer from my auntÕs cunt.
ÒGood,Ó the Sultan said. Then, to my utter surprise, as I spoke to the
Sultan again, asking for some lemonade that was being poured, the nurse
popped the thermometer, wet from my auntÕs cunny, into my mouth.
ÒOoook!Ó I said. I didnÕt know what to do. I was tasting my aunt!
The thermometer tasted sweet, like honey. I gaped at the Sultan. He
knitted his brows, as if to warn me not to reject the thermometer. I
sucked upon it, liking the taste, but not the reason for it. When the glass
had registered the nurse removed it. She reported I was normal. Then she
poked the thermometer in my slit and took my pussyÕs temperature. I
tensed against the intrusion. She warned me, as sheÕd warned my aunt, not
to break the thermometer with my pussy lips. I shivered, as my aunt had
shivered, hoping I wouldnÕt. Jessica slid the thermometer back and forth
in me to test my tightness the entire time my temp was being taken.
ÒShe is like a small, delicate flower, tensely trying to close at the
approach of a bee,Ó Jessica laughed, slipping the stinger-like thermometer
in and out of me. ÒDonÕt worry dear, I wonÕt sting you,Ó Jessica told me.
ÒBut I might,Ó the Sultan said. His eyes danced with glee.
My aunt was served wine. She tried to decline; the European woman
whoÕd sat in my chair forced open her lips and made her drink it down. I
turned my head and watched my aunt grimacing, trying, in a half-hearted,
feminine way, to resist. Her breasts bounced as she twisted her head
against the fingers at her lips.
ÒStill, Rebecca! Be still!Ó the European woman warned her. I later
learned the adamant lady was named Vicky. She was as naked as the
woman who was sticking the thermometer in my pussy. Her hips moved
salaciously even as she held my auntÕs teeth apart with her forefinger and
thumb. Both princes, rock hard, gazed with avid eyes at the two women
attending us, whilst admiring my aunt and I also. At the same time they
enjoyed fresh grapes, served to them by the two European women
attending them at the party table. One of the women polished each grape
on her bosoms before feeding them to a prince. The other prince,
apparently, preferred girlsÕ nether charms. His female attendant polished
grapes upon her heinie before feeding them to him.
ÒSlide them in and out of your butt crack. I do not mind,Ó the prince
instructed her.
ÒOh, sire, you are so naughty!Ó the woman replied. But she did as he
asked. The Sultan, seeing it, laughed. So did the other women. Even I
giggled, a little, though I thought it quite obscene.
Jessica found my vaginal temp normal. She reported it to the Sultan,
who ordered that I be given wine. I was offered a glass. By then a guard,
working quickly, as if heÕd done this to many girls before me and was an
expert at it, had freed my hands. I rubbed my wrists and took the
proferred glass of wine.
ÒDonÕt worry, Chloe, itÕs a very light wine,Ó the Sultan told me. ÒYou
can drink it without becoming drunk, if you only have a glass or two.Ó He
smiled at me and I wondered at what sort of man he must be, to sexually
abuse young girls but, at the same time, worry that he might make them
drunk. Perhaps it was because, in the end, sex is a natural act, while wine
is unnatural to oneÕs constitution; a person can live all their life without
drinking wine, but it is a rare bird indeed who can go without sex. (And
even rarer still if one goes without sex, and is not tormented by its
absence.)
So, knowing I had a cunt, and boobs, and a slim waist and flat tummy
that left me looking like a wanted poster for male sperm, the Sultan
prised me apart sexually, and delighted in playing sexual games with me,
while at the same time worrying that I not be made drunk on a cup of wine.
He wanted, I knew, gazing at him over the rim of my glass as I drank from
it, for me to feel all he did to me. Other men, less bold, more constricted
by laws not of their making, might to devise to get a girl drunk first, so
that they could Ôcop a feel.Õ Not the Sultan. He ruled here, in his kingdom.
He could do exactly as he pleased. If he was going to go the trouble of
challenging a girl sexually, of teasing her, of dominating and filling her,
he wanted her to be aware of it all, and to take note of every thing he did
to her. He didnÕt want to make love to a drunken rag doll, as some men in
America or Europe do. He wanted a living, breathing, gasping, shrieking
girl, who would forever remember how he labored over her to sexually
impress her. Yes, he might tease her about making her drunk, to
anesthetize her against all that he would force her to suffer, I realized,
but in the end, like it or not, I was doomed to remember every last bit of
it. The Sultan would have it no other way. He wanted me to report to all
the other girls what a monster he was, because he knew that half of them
who heard it would find a way to show up here, to feel his torments
themselves.
I sat with my legs apart. My cunt was wet with sexual excitement
that I had not willingly offered but which, having it wrested from me, I
did not complain of now. My bare tummy heaved, small and flat and
rippling as I drew in gulps of air between gulps of wine. My naked tits
shook. My arms bent forward freely, my elbows sticking out, as I held my
wine glass with both hands. But my legs were still fastened, well beyond
the latitude of ladyhood and showing all of myself to whoever cared to
look.
It was then I realized, sitting there all exposed, how bizarrely
wonderful it was to be in the hands of a man like the Sultan. Of course, I
would never tell him such a thing. Here, where a girl could resist all she
pleased and still not fail to achieve sexual satisfaction, I was free to
indulge in the word ÒNOÓ, knowing it would save me from nothing. How
peculiarly satisfying it is for a female to, on occasion, be reduced to such
a condition, my mind admitted. I shivered at the realization. I understood,
suddenly, that I never wanted to interact with the Sultan on a ÔnormalÕ
basis. He was not meant for that, at least in my life. I didnÕt want to tell
him of my hopes, my dreams, or my plans, or even of my complaints. Those
were for another man, perhaps a husband, or a school principal, or a
counsellor. The Sultan was only to interact with me sexually, I realized,
even in my own fantasies. I wanted a man who would view me solely as a
sexual creature. I wanted him to tell me, ÒYes, your cunt is nice and tight,
Chloe, and how wet it is!Ó or ÒWhat lovely big bosoms you have Chloe, and
how the nipples stand up so perfectly!Ó I wanted him to compliment even
my bottom, I realized, shuddering as I sipped my wine. All of myself I
wished to have opened by him and admired by him and even filled up by
him.
And that was it. I did not wish to mix the utter degradation of my
self, the liberating degradation, with intellectual matters, or even with
other emotions. I wanted the Sultan, my mind told me, for what he could
do to me, sexually, and that was it. He was my God in the realm of sex,
and I was his princess. We would explore sexual depths together, we
would dive deep, and at the edge of the pool, when I finally managed to
climb free of his grasp, I wished to leave him there, and not take him into
my emotional or intellectual realms. Other men could serve as husband,
sharing household chores, and as father, raising, with moral authority, my
future children. But the Sultan was just for sex and, sequestered here in
his castle, I too could be as sexual as I pleased, while still enjoying the
pleasure of saying ÔnoÕ and Ônot nowÕ and Ôplease donÕtÕ to all he offered
me. I could be the slut I really wanted to be, without feeling like one.
The Sultan drank wine offered to him by one of the European women
and gazed happily between my legs. I twisted in my chair. I could move
my arms about and squirm, moving my upper body, but I was helpless to
get my legs free. They were locked to my chair. I bent forward once,
drinking my wine, to try to free my legs with my hands. It was quite
impossible. Iron bands, fastened with locks, held them in place. An older
woman, sitting with her legs wide apart, on a chair with no arms and legs,
might have found her position impossible to maintain. But I was young and
barely thought of how awkward it was to sit upright, with oneÕs legs
completely open, and nothing to lean back against. In any event, a guard
stood always at my back, his burly physique hovering over me, watching
my every move and awaiting whatever the Sultan commanded.
My auntÕs arms were freed and she was given more wine. This time
she drank voluntarily, sipping it and gazing about us with wide eyes.
Crackers were offered, spread with cream cheese. My aunt and I looked
quite silly, I thought, sitting there eating crackers and drinking wine,
trying hard to be dainty, while our legs, forcibly opened, displayed our
wettened slits.
There was no hurry. Except for the erections sported by Prince Saul
and Prince Havash, there was no sense of urgency. We were here for the
night, and the Sultan wished to prolong our sense of sexual tension for as
long as he could. He waited quietly while my aunt and I finished our wine
and crackers. I wondered what else he had planned but he kept it a secret,
admiring my aunt and I as if we were performers on a stage, and not the
complete and utterly debased victims of his will. When my aunt and I had
finished our crackers, Jessica took a wet cloth and wiped both our mouths
with it.
ÒVery good, girls,Ó Jessica said. The stethoscope still dangled
between her naked breasts. She teased our nipples after she had wiped our
mouths, so that we would remain excited for the Sultan. At his word, two
guards hoisted my arms up above my head, as well as my auntÕs and
secured them to overhead chains. I found myself sitting with my wrists
lifted high, bound over my head, my body naked and my tummy pleasantly
filled with wine and crackers. How odd to be treated so deferentially,
even to the point of being fed treats, while at the same time being used
sexually like common whores!
Bare-assed, his cock rampant, Mr. Jim Rutland was now put into the
same position as myself and my aunt. When I heard the creaking of the
chains beside me, my own arms and my auntÕs already uplifted, I
remembered him. Imagine, forgetting all about a guy as handsome as him!
ThatÕs how overwhelming the Sultan could be, once he had you firmly in
his grip. I gasped as I saw Mr. Rutland allowing the bare-chested guards
to lift up his powerful arms. He did not resist. He had been fed no
crackers, and no wine, and was clearly in extremis from being continually
tortured, yet even now he permitted, as part of his agreement with the
Sultan, his body to be used. He might have grabbed both guards and thrown
them to the ground with his muscular arms. Yet instead he was as free in
his acceptance of his fate as they were free in adjusting him to suit their
pleasure. His wrists were slung up high over his head. They were re-
shackled. All the while, a feather kept tickling the long length of his
penis. The feather extended from a hole in the chair. It wiggled about,
caressing JimÕs cock as a lover might, while the two male guards rudely
bound his arms over his head. I watched with wide eyes as Jim repeatedly
grimaced, resisting the temptations of the feather while permitting the
guards to lock his arms overhead. The feather whispered over his hard
cock, mechanically loving it; touching the pee-hole, wetting itself on the
juice there. It moved along the ridge of his cockÕs helmet, feeling the
flange, drying itself by smearing the juice from the tip of JimÕs penis over
his helmetÕs ridge. The feather slid along the full length of his shaft. I
watched as it traced the big veins pulsing along the sides of his dick.
Down by the root of his penis, in the encircling growth of his pubic hair,
the feather caressed Jim as if in preparation for releasing a hidden knife
and cutting his member off.
Once more a feather sprouted from between my own legs. It had
hidden itself while I was checked and refreshed. Now it appeared anew,
ready for more fun with my private.
ÒNo!Ó my aunt gasped beside me.
ÒOh, please!Ó I shouted to the Sultan. I didnÕt fancy losing myself in
passion again, in front of these unknown guests. Our host merely laughed.
He watched with an interest as great as my own as the feather reached
out from its hole and found my pussy. It tickled me. I giggled. Spittle
flew from my lips. I flushed. I licked my lips as the feather insinuated
itself between the moistening lips of my cunt. It found my spot and
caressed it. I gasped.
ÒAh!Ó my aunt groaned.
Lightly, ever so lightly, the well-pointed tip of the feather brushed
within the wettened folds of my sex. My jaw sagged. A guard took
advantage of my wide-apart mouth to fling a gag across it and jam the
canvas deep between my lips. My tongue struggled. A scream strangled
itself in my throat. Meanwhile, as my mouth lips were forced wide, my
cunt lips tightened against the intrusiveness of the feather. I tried to
expel the exploring tip by squeezing myself. The feather rolled within the
shivering grasp of my cunny. It twirled and burrowed deeper. Then,
abruptly, it drew back, nearly coming out of me, only to jam itself into me
again and fuck me with slow caresses.
The Sultan admired myself and my aunt and then turned to Jessica
and Vicky.
ÒPrepare yourselves,Ó he said. It was a simple command. I had no
idea what he meant by it but the two European women apparently did.
They both went to a small box in the corner of the room, a box with jewels
on it, and drew from the box a scarf for each of them. They did not tie the
scarves, made of fine silk, around their heads, however. Instead they each
tied a scarf around their neck, tying it in back, so that the front of each
scarf hung down like a bib.
ÒItÕs to catch spills,Ó Jessica said to me, from across the room, her
eyes sparkling. I could only gape in reply, the canvas gag tight against my
mouth. When both girls had put on their bibs they looked at each other,
laughed, and opened their mouths wide. Then they laughed again and
walked with gay abandon over to the Sultan. Both girls gave him a kiss on
his cheek. He held them, briefly, savoring the feel of their nude bodies
pressed hard against him. Then the girls dropped to their knees. I thought
they were going to release the SultanÕs manhood from his robes but
instead, turning, they crawled on their hands and knees over to Mr. Jim
RutlandÕs throne. Both girls, kneeling in front of him, leaned forward, and
presented their mouths at the edge of his chair. Between his widely
separated knees the girls waited open-lipped, their eyes gazing at his
cock.
ÒWeÕre thirsty,Ó Jessica said.
ÒGive us something to drink!Ó Vicky implored Jim.
How lovely they both looked! I felt envious. The girlsÕ long hair
wreathed their pretty faces. Their bibs hung neatly under their chins, to
catch whatever their mouths might miss. Their bare breasts, twin pairs
of lovely teats, hung suspended under them, looking ripe for milking,
juddering voluptuously with their every small movement. How wicked it
was, to see their bare bosoms, their nipples perfect for squirting out
milk, while at the same time they urged Jim to spurt rich sperm-milk into
their faces!
ÒOh!Ó I cried. I ground my hips tightly against the feather as it
continued to intrude into me. I twisted my head toward my aunt and saw
tears in her eyes. Were they tears of passion? I could not tell. I wanted
to speak to her but she was now re-gagged, as I was, and all we could do
was gape at each other like two prisoners, already bound, waiting to be
hanged on a gallows. Indeed, we both hung now close to the brink of
orgasm, and I knew I would be pitched over into bliss in a moment,
bringing further crass pleasure to the guests who were observing me.
At a word from Prince Saul, both European women sitting at the
festive table rose. They put down the food theyÕd been nibbling on and
walked with graceful steps over to myself and my aunt. One, whom I later
learned was named Susan, cupped my auntÕs fulsome bare breasts and
squeezed them. She seemed like a midwife, I thought, hoping to squeeze
fresh milk from a new motherÕs breasts, to encourage the mother to
breastfeed. At the same time she lowered her mouth to my auntÕs gagged
lips and kissed her. Then, lowering one of her hands, she guided the
feather more deeply into my auntÕs snatch.
With a groan, my aunt heaved in her bonds. The feather, I saw, was
penetrating her deeply, bringing her to the absolute edge of a belly-
bursting orgasm. My auntÕs ribs heaved. Her stomach drew in taut and
tight and then, despite its flatness, curved outward as she arched her back
and felt the feather snake deep into the depths of of her cunt. Susan was
eager to penetrate my aunt in more than one place and tried to force her
tongue in past the gag over my auntÕs mouth. When she found that she
couldnÕt, she ripped the gag down from my auntÕs mouth, nearly dislocating
her chin.
My aunt gasped. Her lips opened wide and she gulped in air. Her hips
writhed on the chair, an orgasm brimming in her belly. Susan shoved her
face against my auntÕs and stabbed her tongue deeply into my auntÕs wide-
open mouth. At the same time the other European woman, whom I later
was formally introduced to as Kelly, gripped my own breasts. She kissed
my gagged mouth but did not pull my gag off. Perhaps she liked having me
gagged, making my submission more complete, or perhaps she feared
incurring the SultanÕs wrath if she freed my mouth.
Unlike my mouth, my cunt had nothing covering it. Kelly was free to
violate me there. She caught at the feather teasing my slit and urged it to
press into me more fully. I felt the feather rise up between my legs and
penetrate my belly. I grunted, like an animal giving birth. Suddenly an
orgasm ripped through me and, despite my gag and KellyÕs mouth pressed
close, a scream escaped me. At the same time, beside me, I heard my
auntÕs ungagged mouth utter a much louder cry. Togther, with Susan and
Kelly urging us on, we orgasmed upon the feathers. I surrendered myself
to bliss and did not try to resist any more. I spent, wetting the feather
inside me, sprinkling sweet juices upon KellyÕs probing fingers that played
at my nest. My tongue fought my gag. It tried to push outward and curl in
loving surrender with KellyÕs tongue. In the event, with the gag between
us, all we could each do was touch our tongue tips against each other
through the fabric of the gag. My gag became wet with spittle as my cunt,
sucking hard on the feather, wet the intruder thoroughly.
At last my aunt and I calmed down. The feathers each withdrew
from us and were again swallowed up by the seats of our chairs, where a
pin-sized hole received each of them. Kelly and Susan left us and walked
back to the dining table, where they rejoined the princes. I sagged in my
bonds. I gazed with half-lidded eyes at my aunt. She smiled; slightly. We
had suffered, but it had been a sweet suffering. My breasts ached a little
where Kelly had gripped me.
ÒUghgh!Ó Jim cried beside me. I yanked my head back round toward
him and realized, with rising excitement, that he was finally at the end of
his (much longer) rope. He twisted his hips. His arms yanked hard on the
chains holding them up but he couldnÕt free himself. His thighs tried to
close, fruitlessly, as the wicked feather between his legs finally achieved
its object. Jessica and Vicky, watching, turned to each other briefly and
kissed. Then they offered their mouths to Jim again and, in a move I found
unbelievably sexy, they each lifted a hand and began masturbating
themselves between their legs. Their bosoms quavered as they diddled
their cunts. Each girl offered up a pretty gasp of pleasure.
Jim could take no more. Suddenly, with a mighty groan, his cock
released a spouting flood of sperm. It arced toward the girls and both of
them vied to catch the first drops of it in her mouth. Their heads banged
together, each girl cried ÒOuch!Ó and JimÕs sperm landed upon both their
close-pressed faces, hitting them both in the eyes.
The feather worked itself excitedly along JimÕs shaft, forcing him to
spend in a long tribute upon the two European girls. First Jessica managed
to position her mouth, at last, where she could catch some of JimÕs
cascade. Then Vicky head-butted her aside and put her own mouth where
it could receive JimÕs sperm. No sooner had she gotten a mouthful than
Jessica shoved her away with her own butting face, and offered her lips
once more to JimÕs stream. He came and came, filling both girlsÕ
hungering mouths several times over, besides splattering their bare,
tanned shoulders and shooting his sperm into their lovely hair. At last
JimÕs geyser subsided. The girls both swallowed the loads theyÕd
received. Then, in an orgy of desire, each of them turned to the other and
began licking her companionÕs face clean. At the same time, having left
off for a moment rubbing their cunnies, they now both began masturbating
themselves again. As they teased their wet slits with their fingers they
ran their wet tongues over each otherÕs cheeks and along each otherÕs lips.
Jim watched them. Despite losing his whole load of sperm, something heÕd
sworn he would never permit, there was a satisfied look on his face. I
guessed that the spectacle of the two girls fighting over his seed was so
enthralling to him that he didnÕt mind having Ôgiven inÕ to the Sultan and
cumming.
ÒHe has lost himself. Whip him hard for his lack of self-control,Ó
the Sultan ordered his guards. Jim looked up from his loins. I saw shock
in his eyes. The Sultan laughed. ÒReally, Mr. Rutland, I expected you to
hold out longer than that,Ó the Sultan said. ÒFirst you claim you will defy
me, and then you have the audacity to shoot yourself all over the faces of
my favorite girls? You may have better self-control than most men, Jim,
but I expect the best from you. If you say, ÔI shall not cum,Õ then I expect
you to fulfill that promise, however much you might be teased to do the
contrary. Here you will learn to exercise absolute control over your loins,
Jim. Your cock is a muscle just like your other muscles. You must learn
to control it just like you control your arms or your legs. Perhaps a
lashing of your back will help you to exercise finer control over your dick
in the future.Ó
I expected Jim to thrash beside me, to pull at his bonds, or to yell
some obscenity to the Sultan. Instead, his face haggard from having
withstood the agony of pleasure for so long, he only nodded. To my
surprise I felt myself to be a silent witness to some eerie conversation,
as if between a father and a son, even though both men were roughly the
same age. Jim bowed his head, gritted his teeth slightly, and accepted the
words of the Sultan that washed over him.
ÒYes, I will help you, Jim,Ó the Sultan said in a sudden moment of
tenderness. ÒIf you can withstand my training, if you do not beg me,
before itÕs over, to cut off your member to spare you the workout I intend
for it... if I do not, on a whim, decide to deflower you of that enviously
long, magnificently thick pestle, you will leave my kingdom with
extraordinary control over your manhood. But I warn you: such a trophy-
like penis begs to be kept and displayed. It raises in me a desire to see it
mounted over my royal fireplace, where all who see it can express
amazement at its size, and congratulate me on finding such a specimen.
What a conversation piece it would make, eh, Jim? What an inspiration to
the ladies! To let you simply walk off with it, that I am sorely tempted
never to allow. Yet to permit you to keep it, that too is a sore point with
me, for then you can use it to thrill women who might otherwise find me
amply satisfactory.Ó
I gaped at the Sultan, standing before Jim in his royal robes. The
contrast between him and Jim was so stark! Jim was nude and sweating.
The Sultan was composed and debonair, his silken robes rustling as he
addressed us. He turned to me, then to my aunt, a proud sense of
possession in his eyes. I saw there a gaze like you see in a man who has
just purchased a fine sports car. We were new toys for him. He was eager
to push us to the limit; to see just how much we could take. And if he
broke us in the process, I guessed, it hardly mattered. He could always get
more like us.
The Sultan gazed down at Jessica and Vicky. The two naked girls
were rolling on the floor. Despite their pretty, coiffed hair, the lovely
earrings dangling from their ears, despite their carefully painted nails and
expertly applied makeup, they were now locked together in a kind of
wrestling match; each girl trying to lick all the sperm off the other girlÕs
face.
ÒHold still!Ó Jessica breathed into VickyÕs mouth, her tongue running
along the other girlÕs lips.
ÒNo! I want his sperm! DonÕt lick it off me!Ó Vicky protested. As
she spoke, she tried to steal the sperm from JessicaÕs cheeks and lips,
from her nose and eyelids, so that she could have even more of what was
already smeared so amply over her own face. The girlsÕ limbs thrashed.
They clasped each other, yet tried at the same time to push each other off;
each trying to larcenously partake of the sperm on the other without
surrendering her own hard-won treasure from JimÕs loins. The large man
beside me grinned down at the girls. He gazed at them between his wide-
spread legs. His cock had softened now, but I guessed, with such a
spectacle rolling about at his feet, it would not be long before his
manhood found inspiration to rise anew. JimÕs chest heaved. His large
arms, caught up and raised over his head by chains, pulled on the links of
the chains and caused the beam overhead to creak. I shuddered. Could Jim
pull down the roof over our heads, if he wished? Was he truly that
strong? I wanted to cry out to him not to kill me, no matter how rude he
might find the SultanÕs treatment. I did not want to die here. Jim, if he
noticed the power of his arms, did not show it in his face. Instead, still
staring at the girls, he kept smiling. He looked glad to see that the burden
heÕd showered on the girls was so hotly appreciated. Both females sighed.
Their nude figures clashed. Despite being grown women, they rolled and
tossed on the floor like toddlers in a nursery, fighting over mouthfuls of
half-eaten candy. Their bosoms were flung to and fro by their movement.
Their tits were ripe gourds cut free from all restraint; squashed together
one minute, falling off the body the next, hanging lusciously free, only to
be fleshily distorted in shape in the next minute as the other woman
crushed herself close. I wondered what their mothers would think, if they
could see them; not only braless but heaving their bosoms around with
such carefree abandon! Just then one girl pressed her pubis hard against
the other girlÕs. Both of them let out long, screamy moans, sounding like
twin cats in heat. Still licking jealously at each otherÕs faces, they now
began to grind their wet slits together. It was difficult; each girl sloped
away from the other right at the juncture where they most wished to
touch. Yet they pressed tightly and warmly together now, both finding
mutual pleasure in the close connection of their bodies. Amidst their
sighs, their tongues greedily licking at each otherÕs mouths, breathing
hotly into each otherÕs faces, they strove to make their feminine loins
join together. Wet, juicy warm lips sought and managed to graze against
an identical pair of lips. Clitties buzzed, wishing for penetration, but
finding instead only the soft caress of a warm female slit.
ÒOh!Ó
ÒOh!Ó the two females cried. Each humped against the other. Each
showed frustration as her well-offered hips met only with the well-
offered hips of another girl. Yet valiantly they both tried to find
satisfaction against each other, while their tongues still fought over
JimÕs sperm. Grinding their hips, looking like two machines desperately in
need of a prong, they pressed their wet snatches tight and did their best
to deflower each other.
ÒOh, turn around!Ó Jessica urged Vicky.
ÒNo, you!Ó Vicky cried. Both wished for the otherÕs tongue in her
cunt, yet didnÕt want to break the sweet contact of their warm-brushing
pussies for even a moment to attain it. At the same time, each one kept
assaulting the otherÕs face, licking away the spermy residue Jim had
showered over their heads.
The Sultan laughed. ÒYou have put two of my girls in quite a state,
Mr. Rutland,Ó the Sultan said. He kicked at the girls with his booted toe.
He wore boots of the finest horse leather and I wondered if, as the girls
shouted at his blow, they werenÕt graced by the touch of such magnificent
boots.
ÒOw!Ó Jessica yelled. The SultanÕs toe caught Jessica on the hip.
She rolled away, taking Vicky with her. Vicky was lifted up, so that she
lay upon her side. Her legs were open to receive JessicaÕs close-pressed
thighs between them. The SultanÕs second kick landed between VickyÕs
legs, from behind, and delivered a blow directly to her swollen cunt.
ÒOWOOOOOO!Ó Vicky cried. Her hand flew off JessicaÕs back and
tried to press down between her legs. It would not fit; JessicaÕs body was
pressed too tightly against her own. So, awkwardly, Vicky reached back
behind herself. She yanked her legs farther apart and wedged her hand
between the backs of her thighs. Tears sprang to her eyes as she
massaged her wounded cunt. The Sultan laughed and kicked hard against
her hand. Vicky shrieked. Her hand flew up from protecting her cunt and
shook like a bird in the air, flapping its wings. Then, just when I feared
the Sultan would kick hard at VickyÕs exposed cunt, he instead took
sympathy upon her and merely ground the toe of his boot into her sex.
Vicky swooned. Despite uttering a frantic ÒNO!Ó she arched her heinie
backward and flung her legs wider apart to better receive the intruding
boot. She rubbed her fleshy cunt against it, savoring how the polished toe
of the SultanÕs boot wedged deep into her sex. At last she had something
upon which she might grind herself with satisfaction; something that
might stretch her apart with its hardness and burrow up between her legs.
ÒOh! Kick me!Ó Jessica pleaded. She arched forward her hips so that
the Sultan, removing his toe from Vicky, might jut his boot into her own
wet loins. At the same time, Jessica kept slurping at VickyÕs face, licking
up the last traces of JimÕs sperm from her features. Vicky arched herself
hard against the SultanÕs toe, not wanting to lose him to her friend. She
no longer licked at Jessica but, seemingly half-fainted, merely savored
the painful but wonderfully hard intrusion of shoe leather into her sex.
ÒOh! Is it good? Is it good?Ó Jessica asked her friend.
ÒMmmmmm,Ó Vicky said in a throaty moan.
ÒOh, IÕll bet itÕs good,Ó Jessica said, sounding like a child wishing
for a favorite sweet which another had gotten instead.
ÒStand up, you whores,Ó the Sultan said. He took his toe from
between VickyÕs legs. The European woman let out a frantic sigh at the
withdrawal of his foot and arched her bottom back more in an attempt to
catch him again in her slit. I looked at the SultanÕs boot. The well-
polished leather was now slick and wet at its point from the contact of
VickyÕs pussy. Rudely he booted Vicky in her fleshy bottom and ordered
her again to stand up.
ÒOh!Ó Vicky sighed. She scrambled to her feet, Jessica doing the
same. They stared at the Sultan. VickyÕs hands flew to her ass and rubbed
where the Sultan had kicked her. At the same time both girls arched their
hips forward, offering their slits to him, perhaps hoping he might favor
them both with blows of his boot to their loins. Above their pussies their
bellies, flat and indrawn, compassed by narrow waists, each offered the
Sultan a sweetly indented navel. Above their belly buttons were their
arched ribs. Each rib could be seen on the girlsÕ narrow, slim bodies. A
kick there would surely shatter the fragile architecture of the girlsÕ
figures, yet the girls showed no hesitation in offering their bodies to him.
Above their ribs hung the girlsÕ bosoms. Full and ripe, they wobbled
fleshily on their chests, pertly offering to nurture as many babies as his
shoe could give them. I stared at the silken, sperm-soaked scarf around
each girlÕs throat. How delicate they both looked, and yet how wanton!
ÒWipe off your pussies. Then gag Mr. Rutland with your scarves,Ó the
Sultan ordered Jessica and Vicky. ÒI must give him new tests; I do not
wish for him to say something that might throw me into a rage.Ó
ÒYes, Sire,Ó Vicky and Jessica said sheepishly. Standing before him,
they both reached up to the scarves binding their throats. They unknotted
the scarves and eagerly wiped themselves between their legs. They were
hungry, I saw, to smear JimÕs sperm upon their cunts. At the same time
their own sexual juices were rubbed into the scarves. When this not
entirely effective act of personal hygiene was finished, the two girls
pranced up to Jim and ordered him to open his mouth. He complied.
Merrily Vicky and Jessica gagged Jim with their scarves. He tasted his
own cum upon his tongue, as well as the mingled juices from the girlÕs
slits. Although Jim groaned at having to accept the scarves in his mouth,
he did not refuse. I guessed he was worried he might curse the Sultan if
he were not gagged. He didnÕt want to lose his penis.
ÒYes, you will not be making any intemperate remarks, Jim,Ó the
Sultan said. ÒIt is best this way. I can do things I sometimes regret
later; as supreme ruler, there is no one to stop me.Ó He turned his head
from JimÕs face to mine. ÒYou are well-gagged also, Chloe,Ó he said.
ÒAgain, it is best. You are only 13. I cannot expect you to hold your peace
during the next phase of your training.Ó He looked at my aunt. She sat
with her arms bound over her head, like myself and Jim, but her mouth was
still free to speak.
ÒAnd then we have you, my pretty,Ó the Sultan said to Rebecca.
ÒPlease, you may punish me twice over if you wish, but spare my
little niece!Ó my aunt begged. Her bosoms heaved and bounced as she
spoke. The Sultan, intending to look at her pretty, ungagged mouth, found
himself staring instead at her wobbling bare tits.
ÒPunished?Ó the Sultan answered. He addressed my aunt by way of
her bosoms, his eyes fixed on her twin lovely teats. ÒNo, you are not being
punished, my dear,Ó the Sultan said. ÒDid I tell you earlier that you were?
Perhaps, I cannot remember now. It was only a ruse to ensure your
compliance. You are being trained, my dear woman. My aim is not to hurt
you for the sake of hurting you, but only because it is a necessary, if
unfortunate, byproduct of the training you must receive. You are not naive
in the arts of love, but you must be pushed further. You must be taken to
new levels that only a man like myself can help you attain. You must be
stretched, and spread, and filled, in ways that will help you open yourself
more fully to men when you leave here. Imagine yourself entertaining
twenty men in your bottom hole. Can you do it? I see your sweet body
trembling. Not rude men, no. Calm, considerate men, who have your best
interest at heart, but also a strong desire to see you filled with their
seed. Could you take twenty of them in your ass if that was required? I
will teach you such arts.Ó
The girls finished gagging Jim. They wandered over to the Sultan
and huddled close to him, like children seeking to play with their daddy.
They caressed the front of his body. Their hands slipped down to where I
guessed his penis hung and, in sympathy with their caresses, he grew a
protuberance in the front of his robes. Yet he kept his eyes on my auntÕs
cleavage, and continued speaking to her. ÒYou are very beautiful,Ó the
Sultan told her. ÒA beauty such as yourself must learn to accept men. Do
not tease them. You women play too many games! You were given tits and
a cunt, pretty hands, a perfect mouth to have them used. Men long to
sperm you, to satisfy you, to bring joy to your life! Do not deny them.
When you leave here you will go back to France a new woman. You will be
eager to show men how well you can accept their advances. You will open
yourself to them. You will take all they can give you.Ó
ÒMmmmmm!Ó Vicky and Jessica hummed. Together they admired the
cock that had arisen under the SultanÕs robes. They reached within the
folds of his royal attire and stroked him.
ÒAnd if I do not wish to be trained?Ó my aunt, shivering but trying to
sound composed, asked the Sultan.
ÒThat, my dear, is an option you long ago surrendered, when you
agreed to come here,Ó the Sultan said. ÒI admit the pain I cause you will
please me a little,Ó he said, as the two girls, apparently wishing to tease
him a little, pinched at the big pestle of his penis under his robes. The
front of his garb was lifted by his erection and he winced, but didnÕt scold
the girls, who busily touched his cock. ÒIt is always a delight to see one
tortured a little, to see how pain causes their body to react. But the
prime purpose is pleasure. Is it not, my little minxes?Ó the Sultan asked
Jessica and Vicky. One of them pinched him anew and he arched his back
slightly, his buttocks, I am sure, tightening as he did so, causing me to
wish I could see him naked, as the girls tormented his dick.
ÒYes,Ó Jessica answered.
ÒOh, yes!Ó Vicky agreed.
ÒPrepare them to be whipped,Ó the Sultan ordered his guards,
speaking of myself, my aunt, and Jim. I trembled in my bonds.
ÒOh, donÕt!Ó my aunt implored.
ÒYou shall learn to hold your tongue, woman,Ó the Sultan told her.
ÒThe fairer sex speaks entirely too much. You will not be gagged today
because I expect you to learn to grin and bear it. Any screams, any
protests, and it will be worse for you. Do not tempt me to make things
harder on you than I must.Ó
ÒOH, give me a gag, then!Ó my aunt cried. The Sultan laughed. He
looked at Jim.
ÒYou see?Ó the Sultan said. ÒAlready I am being begged for
extraordinary things. The day will come, Jim Rutland, when you will beg
me to cut off your dick, just as now Rebecca is asking to be gagged.Ó
ÒOh, my!Ó my aunt gasped. The guards began cranking a large wheel.
It was connected to the beam overhead, to which we were tied, and I saw
that the beam I thought held up the ceiling was really only there to hold
our hands aloft. The beam moved forward. As it moved it drew me
forward, causing me to lean out over my widespread legs. My only
consolation, as I saw one of the princes take a long whip from under the
dining table, was that I was sitting on my bottom, it at least was safe
from their plans.
My bosoms hung nearly perpendicularly off my chest as the beam slid
forward some more, taking me with it. At the same time my arms, lifted
high but not pulled absolutely tight when they were first bound, now
became stiff and straight.
ÒOh, stop!Ó my aunt cried, and I might have done the same, for my
arms felt like they were about to be yanked out of my shoulders. The
Sultan raised a hand. The guards ceased cranking the wheel. I hung
motionless, my legs splayed, my back bared, my tits beautiful twin
mounds hanging succulently from my drawn-forward body. I turned my
head and looked at my aunt. She stared at me, her own perfect breasts
now temptingly perpendicular to her form, as if hungry mouths waited
below us, eager to rise from hidden cribs to partake of a late-night
feeding.
ÒWhat fine mothers you will both make!Ó the Sultan exulted, seeing
us both bent forward and straining, our tits perfect cones of flesh,
hanging so fully-formed and well-fleshed and heavy with promise. As if
that were not enough to please him, our nipples offered risen stems where
his tongue might play. The Sultan opened his robe and, to the delight of
Jessica and Vicky, began freely massaging his cock with his hand. Their
fingers still pinched at him, drawing small bits of his skin in their
fingers, teasing his balls with small pinches when they couldnÕt manage to
find any loose flesh on the stem of his cock. As the Sultan stared at us
his balls also tightened, so that, finally, he was so tightly drawn up and
proferred that the girls lamented at not finding any place on his loins
where he was soft enough to be pinched.
ÒOh, stop, darling! They are to be whipped!Ó a European woman
sitting on the lap of one of the princes proclaimed. She looked at my aunt
and Jim and I with eager eyes. Her paramour, his hands still running over
her body with hard, greedy fingers, lessened his explorations of her a
little.
Two guards stepped behind me. They reached down along the sides of
my chair. I heard something being unbuckled. I looked down. The guardsÕ
fingers unbuckled latches on the sides of my chair and I realized,
suddenly, that my chair was not one solid piece, but two pieces joined
together. I gasped. I felt the back of my chair pulled away, like a drawer
being removed from a cabinet. The next thing I knew, I was sitting in
empty air, with only my legs still pressed to the chair beneath me. The
entire back of my chair had been removed!
ÒOh!Ó I said, my gag muffling my cry. I felt the cool air of the room
wash over my ass, so tightly pressed, a moment before, to bare wood. Now
my bottom hung free. Unsupported, my heinie sank lower, bulging freely
into the open air behind me, where my chair no longer was.
I discovered, to my surprise, that the Sultan had bevelled the end of
my chair, which now pressed up against the underside of my thighs. Had it
not been bevelled, the wooden end of the chair would have been sharp
against the underside of my legs. Yet despite intending to whip me, the
Sultan had made sure that I was not discomfited by the abrupt edge of the
chair. I looked over at my auntie. She too now sat with her chair cut in
half, the back of it completely removed, so that her ass hung nakedly in
the air. Some inches below the huddling cheeks of her bottom was a mass
of strange looking equipment. It had once been safely under the chairÕs
seat but now that the seat of the chair was gone, in back, the equipment
was revealed in all its evil glory. I saw odd-looking tubes and metal
cylinders and something sharp, like a pungie-stick, down under my auntÕs
hanging bottom. She looked at me and I realized from the fear that showed
in her eyes that similar equipment must be on display under my own ass. I
tried rising up. The chains on my legs held me. I twisted my head round to
look at Jim Rutland and saw, to my horror, that an identical mass of
equipment now lay revealed under his own small, manly buns.
We squirmed in our chairs, all three of us, trying with desperate
movements of our limbs to break free. The beam overhead creaked as Jim
Rutland tried to prise his arms free of it. The Sultan laughed. Jessica and
Vicky gazed at us with attentive eyes. There were smiles on their faces,
as well as on the faces of the other guests; we were but pieces of a game
in their eyes, I realized, forced to suffer for their entertainment.
Prince Havash walked forward with the whip that heÕd taken from
under the table. There was a sardonic grin on his face. I shivered, looking
at him, and wished to scream, but could not, because of my gag.
ÒOh, NO!Ó my auntie shouted, beside me.
ÒQuiet, woman!Ó the Sultan ordered her.
I looked over at Jim Rutland, wondering if he could somehow save us,
and realized, to my horror, that his seat no longer supported his balls.
They hung down between his powerful thighs, empty, yet completely
exposed to the whip. Also between his wide-apart legs, held tightly open
by chains round his legs, was his penis. It was flaccid now, no longer
rising safely up along his belly but dangling down between his legs, where
the whip, curling under his ass, might find it. I realized, looking at Jim,
that my cunt was similarly exposed. Prince Havash might sweep his whip
under the curve of my bottom and sting me there. My aunt, too, was just
as vulnerable, her own sex sweetly offered like mine.
ÒOh, pray do not whip us!Ó my aunt implored the Sultan. But her
protest, fearfully offered, was spoken in a hushed voice, lest in speaking
she earn extra stripes for herself alone. Prince Havash sauntered behind
us. I heard him draw the whip sharply and quickly across his palm. Then
he struck, lashing the air, and all three of us shook on our chairs.
ÒYum, theyÕre going to GET it!Ó Vicky giggled to Jessica.
ÒYes!Ó Jessica agreed. Both girls reached behind themselves and
rubbed their bare bottoms. The Sultan, amused, put a hand upon each girlÕs
slender shoulders.
ÒPerhaps you girls would like to sit on my thrones after our guests
have had their turn?Ó the Sultan asked.
ÒNo way!Ó Vicky said.
Jessica, though, hesitated before answering. Finally, gazing at me
and massaging her bottom, she said, in a meek voice, ÒPerhaps only for a
few minutes.Ó
ÒYes! ThatÕs what I like to hear!Ó the Sultan said. Vicky looked
quizzically at her friend, her own hands still palpitating her rear,
spreading her cheeks and then squeezing them together, nervously. I could
see what she was doing by way of a mirror.
ÒYou WANT to sit in the SultanÕs throne?Ó Vicky asked.
ÒMmmm,Ó Jessica hummed, still rubbing her own bottom. ÒI learned
a saying once: ÔWhatever I fear most, thatÕs what I do.ÕÓ
ÒOoooh!Ó Vicky said. ÒThat scares me. What if you fear jumping off
a cliff?Ó
ÒPerhaps not jumping off one, but just sitting at the edge,Ó Jessica,
looking directly at me, so vulnerably perched on my half-seat, intoned.
Her friend shivered.
ÒYou shall both enjoy the pleasures of my throne before the nightÕs
over,Ó the Sultan told the two young European women.
ÒOh, I DONÕT want to!Ó Vicky said. But she stared at me, enthralled.
Though she kept her hands firmly over her bottom, she said nothing more,
and let the Sultan casually graze his hand down over her breasts and to the
wet place between her legs.
30
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