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Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
FEVERED FALL
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Chapter Eighteen
Our arms hung suspended. We leaned forward, forcibly drawn into
that position. My back ached already from the stress of the chains pulling
upon my wrists. I was the littlest one and all three of us, my auntie,
myself, and Jim Rutland, were all fastened by our wrists to the same
overhead beam. It had now been cranked forward along the ceiling,
drawing us with it. But our hips remained immobile, for our legs were
splayed and chained to the ÔthronesÕ we sat upon. ÔThroneÕ was, by now, a
very inexact term, for really we sat upon wooden platforms. They lacked
armrests. They lacked chair backs. And now, they had each been reduced
by half, for like a folding table, each of the platforms had had their rear
sections removed, leaving our bare bottoms hanging in mid-air.
I felt the wood of the chair (what little remained of it) pressing
against the underside of my thighs. Where my thighs stretched out to
connect with my bottom, they were unsupported. My ass and the topmost
parts of my thighs dipped in the air, then rose a little as I struggled to
somehow find a way to get my bottom back over the chair. It proved
useless. My ass would be totally unsupported until the guards chose to put
my chair back together.
It was the same for my aunt. I turned my head. I looked at her. They
had gagged her again, for she wouldnÕt stop pleading with them to spare
me. ÒOh, auntie!Ó I wished to say. ÒThank you for thinking of my welfare,
even at the risk of yourself.Ó (For, indeed, they had gagged her rather
angrily, upset that she refused to keep quiet.Ó I gazed at her with
affection. If only she, or I, had been smarter about coming here. Did we
really think they would treat us like princesses? I guess I had thought so,
being only 13, but for my aunt to be so naive too, alas! Now we were
reduced to common whores, and I feared they would be hard on my aunt for
trying to protect me.
How sorry for my aunt I felt! I saw her big womanÕs bottom
clenching and unclenching as she strove to keep her cheeks together and
hoist her ass back onto the platform. Meanwhile, behind her, I could hear
Prince Havash taking practise shots with his whip. He struck the air
behind her. Each snap of the lash reached out farther; drawing closer and
closer to my auntÕs wide-apart derriere. I shivered at the thought of the
whip finding its way inbetween my auntÕs cheeks. She could not keep them
closed, nor could I keep my own shut, for the posture we were in now,
with our bottoms so amply displayed, forced our hineys apart.
Oh, how embarrassed I felt! I remembered standing up in school, and
being told by my teacher to sit down. What would she say now, if she saw
how I sat with my ass open and vulnerable, making a bullseye of my anus?
ÒSire,Ó Prince Havash said, addressing the Sultan. ÒTheir asses. Are
their holes virgin?Ó
ÒI am not sure,Ó the Sultan answered.
ÒI shall deflower them with the tip of my whip if they are,Ó Prince
Havash suggested.
ÒWhatever you feel is best,Ó the Sultan said. ÒWith this caveat.
Whatever you do to my girlfriends, I shall do to yours.Ó The Sultan ran his
hands over Jessica and Vicky.
ÒDeal,Ó Prince Havash said. I glanced quickly at Jim Rutland. My
bare arm pressed against my gagged mouth and I stared at him
beseechingly. Could he not wrest his arms from the overhead beam and
rescue us? He looked so strong. Surely the chains could not hold him if he
truly wished to be free. With my eyes I begged him to break his chains and
save us. He seemed, however, more concerned with the immediate problem
of his penis and balls. They were both flaccid, hanging down between his
legs. They were obvious targets for Prince Havash, who cared nothing for
him, I was sure, given how heÕd been scheduled for execution, and saved
only on a whim to please me.
ÒJim,Ó the Sultan said. ÒDo you remember how I told you that youÕd
beg me to cut off your dick, because it would cause you so much trouble to
have it?Ó Jim looked at him and silently nodded. ÒWell,Ó the Sultan said.
ÒMy brother is not the best handler of whips. HeÕs good, but not perfect.
May I suggest that now would be a good time to put yourself into a state
of erection? I realize you just came. But if your penis is hard, it will
rise up along your belly, and be less vulnerable to my brotherÕs whip. At
the same time your balls will tauten, making them less of a target. You
look rather like youÕve got a pair of church bells hanging down between
your legs right now, begging to be rung. I doubt my brother, even if he
handles the whip well, will be able to resist striking his lash against
those church bell balls of yours. But if you tighten your sac, it will resist
damage better, and not make quite such a tempting target.Ó
JimÕs eyes bulged. I knew what he was thinking: how in the name of
Allah could he get his dick to harden and his balls to rise, when heÕd just
fired a ball-busting load all over Jessica and Vicky. I wanted to beg the
Sultan and his brother to spare JimÕs balls, but I could do nothing, with my
mouth gagged. I tried saying something; it came out as well-muffled
mouse squeaks.
CRACK! The whip struck my auntÕs bottom. She screamed into her
gag. Her seat waggled. Her ass clenched shut, then lost itself in a hip-
shaking movement that ended with her sitting open and exposed once more,
her cleft ripely apart for whatever might choose to intrude between its
succulent halves. The prince stepped to the left. He took aim at my own
seat. I felt like a watermelon about to meet with a knife. I tautened my
youthful derriere. I drew in my breath and held it.
SWA-AAAK!
Oh, God! It was harsh! It was a double salute. It came in tight and
controlled, breaking across first one of my bottomcheeks, then across the
other. Just as quickly as it had arrived, it sprang away from me, and
settled at last on the floor, for it was a long whip. I heard it slither along
the floor as it was drawn in and retrieved by the Prince. I lurched in my
bonds. My breasts, hanging off my chest like young gourds, shook
violently. I squealed. I was a pig at the butchersÕ with a slice placed
sharply into my hinds.
Prince Havash stepped over to Jim Rutland. The Prince gave JimÕs
bare ass a salute with the whip. It stung, IÕm sure, like bees finding a
pincushion for their stingers. Jim grimaced. His cock stiffened suddenly,
and I marvelled at how the whip impelled him to a new hardness that,
otherwise, he might not have found the will to achieve. I promised
myself, even as I shook my own bottom at the pain of the whip, to
remember how a whip could make some men, at least, regain their virility.
ÒOh, may we feel them?Ó Vicky blurted.
ÒFeel them?Ó the Sultan asked.
ÒNow that theyÕve each had a taste, let us massage their poor
bottoms and savor their first squirmings,Ó Jessica suggested to the
Sultan. He nodded. Both girls cried out with glee and hurried over to
myself and my aunt. The clapped their hands to our butts. They held me,
and my aunt, with tight-gripping fingers. I tried to pull myself free but
Vicky simply waited until I lost heart and let my derriere sink fully onto
her hands.
ÒYes. How perfect your bottom is-- with just a single mark upon it!Ó
Vicky exclaimed. ÒYou deserved the mark, and many more, IÕm sure. I only
wish I didnÕt have to suffer the same after you!Ó she added, remembering
Prince Havash and the SultanÕs agreement. She looked nervously back over
her shoulder, I saw in a mirror, fearful lest her own bottom should taste
the whip before its time.
ÒAh, you squirm so delightfully,Ó Jessica said in a calm voice to my
aunt. ÒYes, work your hips. Does it sting? Here, let me put a finger into
your bottom cheeks and you can work yourself down onto me.Ó
Rudely Jessica poked a finger into my auntÕs spread-apart cheeks.
My aunt, still wriggling from the blow of the whip, was now forced to
sodomize herself on JessicaÕs digit. My aunt moaned, but Jessica only
forced her finger more deeply into her hole.
Held, consoled with a kiss that Vicky planted upon my cheek, I rested
my ass in her hands. I felt her fingers urge my separated cheeks more
widely apart. I shuddered. Vicky kissed me again and told me to accept
whatever was done to me with feminine grace. I felt comfort in her hands.
ÒLet me feel her too,Ó Jessica said to Vicky. She withdrew her
finger from my auntÕs bottom and switched places with Vicky. I shivered
at the touch of JessicaÕs hands. They gripped me tightly. I was held by my
fundament as if I were a large, ripe fruit, being pulled apart to reveal my
inner secrets. Upon one of JessicaÕs fingers I detected a wetness. It was
the finger that had dug into my auntÕs bottomhole and was moist from her
anal juices.
ÒYes, relax, my little baby,Ó Jessica said to me in a solicitous voice.
She held me firmly, tugging open my well-offered cheeks, feeling my
every nervous wriggle. She kissed my cheek as Vicky had. At last, despite
the pain that still burned across my bottom where the whip had struck me,
I felt a delicious contentment. I was docile. JessicaÕs kisses showered
my face, lightly and repeatedly. I was like a child being kissed by its
mother on the first day of school.
They departed. Their breasts bouncing merrily, their broad lovely
bottoms swaying with tempting grace, Jessica and Vicky left us and
returned to the SultanÕs side. Vicky, inspired by our predicament,
immediately presented her backside to the Sultan and urged herself
against him. He clasped her standing figure from behind. He bent down
and kissed her cheek and she, feeling his cock hard against her derriere,
ground her ass into his loins. Jessica laughed. She stood beside Vicky and
stroked the girlÕs blonde hair. First she stroked the long, flowing hair
upon VickyÕs head and then she reached down and mischievously ran her
fingers through the tight blonde curls of VickyÕs bush. The young woman
sprinkled vaginal juice upon JessicaÕs fingertips. Jessica lifted them to
VickyÕs lips and made the girl lick her fingers clean.
CRACKCK!
Suddenly the whip gained new life, as Prince Havash struck my
squirming bottom with it from behind. I howled. My gag captured my cry
and did not let it burst into the room. My chest heaved. My bosoms
wobbled freely. My slender waist twisted about, making a show of my
hot-stung bottom.
My aunt was struck next, then Jim Rutland. They were as responsive
as I, shouting into their gags and working their hindquarters with a
liberality that only a whip could produce. Jessica laughed. She picked up
an atomizer and asked Prince Havash for permission to cool our bottoms
with perfume. He nodded; she stalked behind us and squirted each of us
liberally on our hindquarters. But my aunt shrieked at the wet touch of
the perfume on her hot flesh, as did I, for it was a known fact that a wet
bottom stung more when whipped.
The Sultan made Vicky bend down and clutch her ankles. He
presented his cock to her sweetly offered cunt and drilled himself into
her. VickyÕs head shot up. She shouted at the forcefulness of his entry.
Jessica, finished wetting my bare skin, as well as that of my aunt and
Jim, rushed over to Vicky and held her head down. The Sultan worked
himself within Vicky like a dog; hungry and hot, caring nothing for her,
only for his own pleasure.
SWAAAACK!
I screamed as the whip struck me anew. With sinuous vigor it
slashed into my heinie. The moisture from the atomizer made its bite all
the more awful. My eyes gaped. My cheeks puffed. Prince Saul and the
European women, sitting at the festive food-laden dinner table, chuckled
at my appearance. My aunt received the whip next. Its stroke curled up
between her legs and bit into her sex. She howled; the guests at the table
laughed more loudly. Then it was JimÕs turn; he gritted as the whip nearly
struck his balls, gliding at the last moment up between his ass cheeks
instead.
Prince Havash walked back to me, and prepared to strike me again
with his whip. It was a slow torment, each blow placed one at a time,
without any hurry. We had all night; there was no reason to move quickly.
Prince Havash unfurled his whip anew. It sailed out and connected with
my ass. I screamed. I wished to God he would just give me whatever was
needed, so I could be done. I heard him laughing behind me. I shut my eyes
tight and shook my hot bottom for all it was worth, trying to toss off the
sting.
The Sultan, meanwhile, worked himself with delight in VickyÕs cunt.
She gasped at the vigor of his assault, her head still trying to rise, her
breasts shaking in time with the SultanÕs indriving thrusts. Jessica held
down VickyÕs head, keeping her bent-over, but watched me with her eyes,
as if the sex act transpiring beside her was too commonplace to engage
her interest. Was it my youth that mesmerized her? I was 13, the
youngest present. I fancied that it was a concern for my welfare that
caused Jessica to keep her eyes fixed on me.
The Sultan finished his course. He spent in Vicky and she shouted
anew as his flood of sperm filled her. When he had pumped all he had to
give, his testicles empty and her womb full, he retired to a chair and sat
down.
Jessica helped Vicky stand up. The girlÕs knees wobbled. Vicky
looked down at herself. She clutched at her sex as her lips spilled
trickles of sperm onto the inner surfaces of her thighs.
ÒThere. YouÕve done very well,Ó Jessica told Vicky. Then she looked
at me again. A frown creased her brow. Suddenly, despite the fact that
she would have to suffer the same as me, she walked briskly over to
Prince Havash. She demanded the whip from him. He gave it to her. She
turned and apprised my bottom.
ÒThe whip must be applied harshly, if she is to learn anything from
it,Ó Jessica said. She unfurled it and its snaking tip struck my ass
forcefully. Tears sprang to my eyes. I screeched within my gag. I shook
my heinie and was sure I felt blood upon it.
ÒDo not break the skin,Ó Prince Havash said behind me, to Jessica,
making me howl all the louder into my gag.
ÒIÕll try not to, but she must be truly disciplined by it,Ó Jessica said.
ÒShe should be crying by now, but she isnÕt, because youÕve been too
lenient with her. A girl needs a good lashing if her bottom is to be a
medium of instruction for her. And given that little Chloe is so pretty,
and almost certain to grow up to be a beautiful airhead, it is her bottom
alone that will be able to teach her anything.Ó
With this speech, Jessica, herself a ravishing beauty, began striking
my bottom for all it was worth. I squirmed and shouted; Jessica paid no
heed to my cries and flailed away like an Amazon. How athletic she
looked! Through tear-filled eyes I saw, in a mirror, her stripped-naked
figure behind me. She worked with gusto, her naked breasts flying, her
limbs bare and sweating. We were like team players, she giving, me
receiving. Both our bodies undulated with a rhythmic passion. I screamed,
she merely grunted, like a laborer working in the heat of the sun. Her hair
flew about her head. Her long tresses looked lovely, despite her
fierceness. She was a warrior with a whip, beautifully coiffed. My own
hair flew about my face, making me look pretty even as I suffered like
never before.
Abruptly Jessica stopped; she let the whip hang from her small,
balled-up fist like a spent male member. It snaked down to the floor,
where its tip, warm from striking my flesh, curled with the innocence of a
sleeping cat on the painted tiles. Not so my bottom. I waggled it with
desperation, trying to throw off the burning heat that the whip had
imparted to it. Jessica laughed at my display. She stepped forward and
gently stroked my hot, chubby cheeks. I flinched at her touch; even the
brushing of her fingertips across my ass now made me swoon with pain
and displeasure. My hiney, already wiggling salaciously, made an even
more agonized and exaggerated show of itself.
ÒThere, there,Ó Jessica consoled me. ÒSuch a bad bottom you have,
shaking it all about as if you were some cheap tramp.Ó She grazed her
fingers over my warm, heat-sheened skin. ÒWhat would your mother
think?Ó Jessica asked. She gave my bottom a slap and I howled into my
gag. Then, laughing, she left me to my gagged thoughts, and walked over to
where my auntie sat.
Jessica, holding the whip in one hand, placed both of her hands upon
her own hips. She studied my auntÕs bottom with her eyes. My aunt looked
round at Jessica standing behind her. Never before had I seen such fear in
my auntÕs eyes. There was a slow gracefulness to JessicaÕs movements as
she sized up my auntÕs posterior. I have learned, since visiting the Sultan,
that it is the waiting that is worst of all in a whipping. Anything might
be endured if it happens quickly, but Jessica, knowing the tension inherent
in doing nothing, savored the sight of my auntÕs bare, rudely displayed ass.
She licked her lips, as animal might, savoring a meal it has caught, still
alive, that it knows cannot get away. She let the minutes pass slowly,
taking her time in apprising how to best inflict the whip upon my auntÕs
ass.
ÒYes, you have quite a lovely bottom,Ó Jessica said, after gazing at
my auntieÕs behind for many minutes. ÒI should like to call you by name,
my dear, but I cannot remember your name. What is it? Ah, you are
gagged,Ó Jessica sighed. ÒOh well, it is no matter. I shall call you Miss
Bottom, fair enough? From my vantage point you are seemingly all bottom.
How wantonly you offer it. How the cheeks of your ass hang open,
allowing me to see within, to find the small rosebud anus where you
might, if you wish, owing to your condition, poop out turds in view of all
of us if you wish. And how soft and sweet your naked cunt looks, its lips
prettily displayed inbetween your widely stretched legs. How if offers
itself, like some bashful fruit, opening its petals, hoping to be urged to
sprinkle its inner moisture upon the floor.Ó Jessica gave a short, hard
laugh. ÒWhy do you shake?Ó Jessica asked. ÒAre you frightened at the
thought of my inquisitive whip tasting your fruit-like cunt? Would it
burn, would it leave its mark, angry and red, upon your delicate sex? You
should have thought of that before coming here, my dear. Here we do as
we please, and you must receive whatever is given you, even if it comes in
the form of a tough, well-tanned leather whip!Ó
Having delivered that speech, Jessica stepped back in order to
deliver a whipping to my auntÕs bottom. She wriggled her own hips,
briefly, enjoying their nudity and their freedom. My aunt sat upon her
awkward chair, trussed up and barely able to move, save for the nervous
squirming of her well-offered bottom.
And then it began. The whip struck my auntÕs bottom hard. She
shrieked; the gag across her mouth caught her shriek and kept her screams
stifled within herself. Only puffs of air escaped her small nostrils, above
her tight gag, betraying the screams that rent her. At the same time
small mouse squeaks escaped from the gag itself; it could not keep her
utterly silent, but it dampened her sounds of urgent agony so that we
could leisurely ignore them.
Across the room, Kelly and Susan were put upon the table. Their
backs lay upon it but their hips arched forward into the open air. Both
girls might have slipped off the table and fallen to the floor, bruising
their bottoms, had it not been for the princes. Both Prince Saul and Prince
Havash held his favorite girl by her hips so that she could lie back on the
table in comfort. Each girlÕs hips were completely off the table. Their
legs dangled freely beyond the tableÕs edge, carelessly open and spread.
Each prince, holding his favorite girl, stood with himself between her
wide-apart, floorward bent legs, savoring the pretty knees that scissored
on either side of his hips. Each prince was bare-waisted and his cock
stood stiffly erect; poised to violate the pretty hips which he so gallantly
held.
Kelly and Susan, despite their jeopardy, savored the delicacies
arranged on the table. I watched, wide-eyed, as Kelly reached for a plate
of olives and took one in her fingers and popped it in her mouth. Carefully
she ate it, biting off all the meat and at last spitting the oliveÕs seed into
her fingers. Then she tossed the seed at Prince Havash, who was holding
her. It hit his chest and bounced off. He laughed. She giggled. She picked
up another olive off the plate lying near her head and turned to Susan. She
reached over to SusanÕs head and popped the olive into SusanÕs open mouth.
At that moment Susan was trying to put a spoonful of jello into her own
mouth but, when she was given the unexpected treat of the olive, by Kelly,
she smiled and gently accepted it. Then, after chewing on it and letting
Kelly take the seed from her mouth, she offered the spoonful of quivering
jello that she still held in her own hand to KellyÕs mouth. The girl
accepted; the jello slid into KellyÕs mouth and Susan smiled and withdrew
her spoon. Then, without even wiping the spoon, Susan, still lying flat on
her back, reached over to the jello display on the table and scooped up
more of the jello with her spoon. As she was lying down she had to do it
carefully; but she did. She brought the new spoonful of jello to her own
lips and ate it, as Kelly finished chewing and swallowing beside her. The
jello display was laden with fruit and it could not simply be swallowed
down; one had to chew all the fruit first.
The princes laughed. They loved the easygoing nature of the girls.
But now their stiff cocks were tormenting them too much for them to
watch the girls play any longer. With rude forward thrusts of their hips,
both men interrupted the girlsÕ languid eating. Kelly and Susan shrieked as
their cunts were violated. Looking rather like animals, or rabid dogs, the
two princes groaned and panted as they rodded themselves deeper and
deeper into the girlsÕ tightly offered cunts.
The men laughed. Their hips, they realized, were fucking the girls at
roughly the same speed. They shared an unconscious tempo. Prince Saul
looked at Prince HavashÕs loins, at his penis covered with the juice of
KellyÕs quim.
ÒLetÕs do it together,Ó Prince Saul suggested, moving his bare hips
even more closely in time with his brotherÕs.
ÒYes!Ó Prince Havash said gleefully. Prince Havash took the liberty
of reaching out and placing his broad palm on the bare backside of Prince
Saul. ÒTogether,Ó he grunted, and pressed in on Prince SaulÕs behind even
as his own hips lunged forward to fully penetrate Kelly.
ÒYeek!Ó
ÒHook!Ó the two young women shouted together. Both of them found
their screams occurring simultaneously now as they were each penetrated
together. Jessica smiled and made her whip crack against my auntÕs
bottom in time to the thrusts of the two princes. Beside me, my auntÕs
gagged shrieks sounded in muffled time to the screams of bliss emanating
from the two women on the table.
Time passed. There was no hurry. My bottom burned as I looked
beseechingly into the SultanÕs eyes. I watched his every move, exhausted,
hoping for release, but he only sat in a stuffed chair, smoking. Vicky knelt
submissively on a throw rug at this feet. She licked his cock and testicles
clean and then was ordered by the Sultan to lick his toes. She made a
face, but obeyed. He patted the top of her head indulgently.
When Susan and Kelly had recovered from their table-top tryst, they
wandered over to Jim Rutland. They were impressed by the size of his
erection. They turned to the Sultan and asked him if they might, as they
put it, Òplay gamesÓ with JimÕs cock. The Sultan nodded. With little
ÒOoohsÓ and ÒAaaahsÓ the two girls began to touch and fondle JimÕs
erection. They traced the veins on his throbbing organ. They explored his
pee hole with the tips of his fingernails. They squeezed his nuts, in the
testicle sac hanging under his cock, and tried to decide if one of his nuts
were bigger than the other.
ÒThatÕs what IÕve heard,Ó Kelly confided to Susan.
ÒThat heÕs got different sized nuts?Ó Susan, who was older, laughed.
ÒNot just him. All men,Ó Kelly said. She explored Jim quite frankly
and he groaned at the intrusiveness of her small fingers.
ÒLetÕs make him cum,Ó Susan said.
ÒBut he already has!Ó Kelly objected.
ÒHeÕs hard. And he looks nice and full. IÕll bet we can get a big load
of him to shoot out, just like before,Ó Susan said.
ÒOkay,Ó Kelly said. Together they began to work his cock with their
fingers. First they rubbed it quite vigorously. Then they slowed, each
watching the other. Susan suggested she take the lead in deciding what
would be done.
ÒYes. YouÕre more experienced than I am,Ó Kelly said.
ÒThe idea is to get him to cum, but only when we wish,Ó Susan said.
ÒOtherwise weÕre just pleasuring him. And thatÕs no fun. We must make
him beg us for permission to release his seed.Ó
ÒYes!Ó Kelly said. She was delighted by the suggestion. Impulsively
she rubbed one of her hands over her cunny. Then she blushed and, taking
her hand from her cunt, which was now moist with her excitement, she
rubbed her newly wettened fingers over JimÕs cock. Jim groaned. Mingled
with KellyÕs quim juice was sperm from Prince Havash. It gleamed wetly
along the shaft of Jim RutlandÕs penis.
Suddenly we were all shocked by the eruption of fluid from JimÕs
cockhead. The girls squealed. The fluid splattered KellyÕs tummy, for she
was standing partly in front of Jim. At first everyone, including myself,
thought Jim was experiencing a second ejaculation. Then Kelly shrieked,
ÒHeÕs peeing on me!Ó
Jim worked his hips. He was tightly bound, with his legs spread, but
there was just enough leeway in the ropes to allow him to waggle his
stiff penis. His pee, spurting forth lustily, reminding me of Old Faithful,
splattered both the European women. Kelly and Susan tried to step back
from Jim, but the sight of his beautiful cock erupting with pee proved too
joyous and wonderful a thing to dart away from. Instead, admiring his
vigor, the volume and force of his urination, they stood so that his pee hit
first one, then the other of them, squarely in the middle of their pubis.
The girls laughed as their mons were soaked by the pee. Kelly thrust
forward her hips and spread her legs so that the arc of pee might land
directly within the folds of her cunt.
ÒLook! HeÕs peeing right into me!Ó Kelly boasted to Susan, drawing
apart her cunt lips so that her pee hole was inundated by pee from JimÕs
cock.
ÒNo! Do me!Ó Susan said. She bumped her hips against Kelly, shoving
the girl aside, and offered her own finger-splayed slit to Jim. Kelly
laughed good-naturedly and watched as her friend received her own cunt-
baptism from Jim.
ÒWeÕre saved, now,Ó Kelly said.
ÒSaved by the pee,Ó Susan agreed.
Seeing Jim, I realized it had been a long time since my own bladder
had felt relief. I looked at my aunt. She was no longer being whipped, but
her bottom hurt so much from the strokes that she didnÕt notice me
asking, with my eyes, what to do.
ÒChloe,Ó I heard a masculine voice ask. It was soft, but sinuous, like
a snake about to pounce.
ÒMmmmf!Ó I gasped, in my gag, and darted my head toward the
Sultan. He chuckled at how my mouth was covered but my cunny lay open
and bare, the lips fully exposed to his view.
ÒAre you not sitting as you would on a toilet?Ó the Sultan asked me.
ÒGo ahead, Chloe. Pee if you like. Pee right here in front of us. You have
my permission.Ó
My eyes widened. I was shocked! How indecent it would be to just
relieve myself, like a female animal, right here in front of Prince Saul,
Prince Havash, the Sultan, his guards, and the assorted girlfriends of the
men. Especially in a room dedicated to a banquet! I stared at the food-
laden table directly across from me. The presence of all that food made
peeing seem especially obscene. Surely the Sultan could release me for so
small but important a matter as peeing? My eyes beseeched him to allow
me a momentÕs privacy.
ÒPee if you like, or not, Chloe,Ó the Sultan said dismissively. He
reached down and patted Vicky on the head. She was still licking his toes,
though sheÕd paused to watch Jim pee. ÒShow Chloe and her aunt how we
go to the bathroom during our banquets, Vicky,Ó the Sultan said.
ÒOkay,Ó Vicky said. She looked at me. She blushed. ÒThe men have a
toilet,Ó Vicky said. ÒBut we girls just go on the floor! With permission,
of course,Ó she added. Vicky opened her legs as she spoke. She was still
in a kneeling position, but now she lifted her knees off the floor. Her
bottom lowered a bit, putting her in a squat. Then, submissively lowering
her eyes, she put a hand to her cunt, opened it, and pissed right between
her beautiful shoes.
I strove to hold myself as the party continued. My legs ached. They
were drawn wide, the knees held near the surface of my chairÕs seat by
thick straps. My cunny had spent itself and was moist with the juices of
my exhausted desire. My bottom, slashed hard by the whip, felt as if lines
of coal, fresh from a brazier, had been traced over it by some demon. I
was in Hell, gagged and bound, with arms outstretched, my bottom hanging
free, my cunny open for all to see. I heard the sound of wood scraping
metal beneath me. I looked down between my quivering breasts and along
the flatness of my belly to my bush. My quim hung exposed over the
innards of the chair. But now, between me and the wiring of this half-
disassembled chair, was a smooth, small wooden container. It sat poised
atop the guts of my half-undone throne; protecting me from the odd
collection of wiring and spire-like knobs, and I felt grateful for it. But
what was this small wooden pail doing under me? Its smooth rim
beckoned. The inside of it was dark, shadowed by my bottom, waiting
expectantly to be filled by something. Nervously my eyes flitted away
from it. Yet there it remained, with perhaps a foot of empty air between
the round base of my bottom and the top of the pail.
ÒItÕs a piggin. Pee in the piggin when youÕre ready,Ó Jessica said.
She left me and went to my aunt. She put a piggin under my auntÕs behind
and gave her the same instruction.
An old Arab woman came into the room. She was dressed in maidÕs
garb. She wore prim white apron, and a black dress. There was a black
bonnet on her head, trimmed with white lace. She carried a pail of water
and a mop. She glanced at myself and my aunt, making us blush, then set
down her bucket and wet her mop and began cleaning up the puddle of pee
Vicky had made on the floor. By now the girl was once again sucking the
SultanÕs toes.
ÒShe is still not potty trained?,Ó the Arab woman said in English to
the Sultan. He laughed.
ÒNot yet,Ó the Sultan answered. The old woman glanced at Vicky.
The girl looked up at her, submissively, but kept on licking the toes of the
Sultan as if they were candy and she were a hungry child.
ÒShe should be spanked whenever she does this,Ó the old woman said,
mopping.
ÒI agree,Ó the Sultan said. He patted VickyÕs head. Vicky made no
response, but licked the toes of the Sultan even more eagerly and
submissively than before. I could not tell whether she was a co-
conspirator in the game, showing her love for it by licking the SultanÕs
toes with such care, or whether she hoped to escape from the womanÕs
proposal by being extra dutiful to the Sultan.
ÒHow about those two?Ó the old woman asked. She looked at me and
my aunt, making us flush an even deeper shade of red.
ÒThey are in need of a good pee, but embarrassed to do it in front of
us,Ó the Sultan said.
ÒWhat?Ó the old woman roared. ÒSire, you have commanded them to
relieve themselves, yet they refuse?Ó
ÒYes, and they are even provided with piggins to do it in, yet they
hold themselves back,Ó the Sultan said.
I shivered. I felt my breasts quaver and wished to God there was
some way I could escape from these strange people. As I sat there staring
at the old woman, at the Sultan, at Vicky so worshipfully sucking the
SultanÕs toes, Jessica stepped round in front of me. Beseechingly I looked
up at her. She caressed my long hair that streamed down past my face. My
hair was disheveled from my exertions and she made play of arranging the
strands, lovingly, as a mother might with a child who has just come inside
from a long afternoon of playing.
ÒYes, you must pee, darling,Ó Jessica said. ÒHow sweetly your cunny
offers itself.Ó Jessica reached down between my widespread legs and
touched the Venus fur of my mound. She insinuated her finger through my
nest of pubic hair until she came to my quim. She delved, she tested. She
found my most sensitive place and gently rubbed me.
ÒMmmmf!Ó I cried into my gag. Susan went to my aunt and showed
her the same obscene attention. SusanÕs own muff dripped with pee from
Jim RutlandÕs penis. How thoroughly debased we all were! I thought. We
had begun the evening as ladies, dressed for a ball. Now we were all
naked, sweaty, and pee-stained, or slathered with cum. How I wished to
excuse myself from these awful men and their wicked tarts, and to be a
proper schoolgirl again!
ÒCome on. Wet my hand,Ó Jessica urged me. Her eyes gleamed at me,
cat-like. Her fingers intruded into my cunt and played upon my spot. I
twisted my head and looked with wondrous eyes at my aunt. Her own eyes
stared longingly back at me. We were both gagged but I could tell her
feelings; she was sorry for putting me in such a spot, and telling me also,
with her eyes, that she was sorry for what she was about to do.
Ah, auntie! I wished to cry. Must you pee as badly as I? I felt my
bladder bulging with need in my tummy. Her own, I feared, was just as
desperate. I almost wished for the whip to strike my bottom again, that
the thoughts of peeing might be driven from my mind.
ÒOh! Here she comes!Ó Susan declared. She frigged my aunt more
briskly. I heard a sound then of water being released into a wooden pail.
Auntie! No! I tried to shout from within my gag. Then, to my utter
mortification, the old woman staring at me, the Sultan chuckling, even
Vicky pausing to watch, I felt my own bladder open and urine spring from
between my lovelips. Jessica snatched her hand back and darted around
behind me. She checked to make sure my pee was falling into the piggin.
She gave my bottom a firm slap, stopping my pee momentarily, but then
my need overwhelmed me and I began peeing again.
ÒAtta girl,Ó Jessica complimented me. ÒPee just like the calf you
are, with your cow-like aunt peeing beside you. Females here learn their
true nature: peeing, feeding, cumming with pleasure, and screaming with
well-deserved pain. You are nothing but breasts, bottom, and mouth now;
three mouths, all of them made for your masterÕs pleasure. In a moment
you will learn to what use your bottomhole may be put.Ó Jessica laughed,
but I froze with fear. Yet despite my fright, making my limbs stiff in
their bonds, I kept peeing. At last my stream thinned. It ended in a last
wisp of latecoming pee. Then drops fell from my cuntlips; Jessica waited
until all of them had fallen. Then Jessica looked in the piggin and, to my
great surprise, there were lines on the inside of the piggin, drawn with
paint, for Jessica announced, Ò550 ccÕs. SheÕs made 550 ccÕs. Quite a lot
for such a small girl.Ó
Ò600 ccÕs here,Ó Susan announced, examining my auntÕs piggin.
ÒWell, at least theyÕre healthy,Ó the old Arab woman said to the
Sultan.
ÒYes. Fine kidneys,Ó the Sultan agreed.
ÒWill you be impregnating them, Sire?Ó the old woman asked.
ÒNo. They are just for pleasure,Ó the Sultan said. He patted Vicky on
her head again. ÒThey are all here solely for their erotic appeal. IÕll take
a proper Arab girl when the time comes for offspring.Ó
ÒOf course, Sire,Ó the old woman said. She picked up her bucket and
mop and carried them outside. Then she returned and busied herself
around the dining table, cleaning up the mess that had been made by the
partiers. Prince Saul and Prince Havash sat smoking, as did the Sultan.
They paid no mind to the old woman.
The Sultan looked at me. He drew upon his pipe, eyeing my figure,
and then spoke: ÒI saw a girl yesterday, Chloe,Ó he said. ÒShe was perhaps
11 or 12. It is hard to tell a girlÕs age today, exactly, with food so
plentiful and them growing their tits so young. She was a foreign girl, my
favorite kind for fucking. She had long blonde hair which she had
carelessly pinned up, several strands had already fallen loose.Ó
ÒShe was not wearing a scarf, Sire?Ó Prince Saul asked.
ÒNo,Ó the Sultan answered. ÒHer mother thinks her still a child. She
was wearing western clothes, not an Arab robe, again because her foolish
mother still clings to the thought of her daughter being too young to
require a robe to cover her. From my limosine I watched the girl as she
walked with childish purposefulness down the street. She had a little
sister, a brunette, perhaps 8 or 9, who was walking with odd steps, like
children sometimes do. I think she was trying to avoid the cracks in the
sidewalk. I noticed the 8-year-old first; though my eyes did not linger on
her for long.Ó
ÒShe had bosoms, Sire?Ó Prince Havash asked, with a leering glance
at Prince Saul.
ÒNot the 8-year-old; no,Ó the Sultan answered. ÒThough perhaps her
paps were already swelling.Ó
ÒAh, there is nothing sweeter than swollen paps, little bee sting-
sized breasts, begging for a man to suck upon them to help them grow,Ó
Prince Havash said. Susan and Kelly shared a disapproving glance. They
said nothing, though, perhaps fearing that the whole story was made up, to
induce sour words from them, and earn them punishment. I myself was
glad I was gagged; I would have shouted at the Sultan that he was a
wicked pervert.
ÒYes,Ó the Sultan smiled. He sat further back in his chair, drew
again on his pipe, quite the raconteur: ÒThis blonde, she walked with
childish purposefulness down the street. She smiled as she walked;
delighted with the morning. She did not mind stepping on the cracks of the
sidewalk. She was too old for such silly games. But the way she lifted
her legs as she walked, her splendidly long legs, she looked like a young
pony. Had she been a pony, she would have been at that age when a pony is
first given a taste of the bridle and saddle. Her sister was still young
enough to run free in the yard, but for the blonde, it was time for the joy
of having a man ride her.Ó
ÒYou would be tender with her, master?Ó Vicky piped up, licking the
SultanÕs feet. He looked down at her and patted her head.
ÒYes, of course, my dear,Ó the Sultan said. ÒTender and yet with a
certain sternness to my bearing; so that she may know our roles; I
wouldnÕt want to have my neck broken, as Christopher Reeves did.Ó
ÒOf course not, Sire,Ó Vicky said, licking the Sultan with a slight
smirk at her lips. He did not, I think, quite see the smirk, for her long
hair, falling over her forehead, shielded her face from his view as she bent
to lick him.
The Sultan looked up and drew on his pipe again. ÒAh, such
wonderful bosoms this blonde had!Ó the Sultan declared. ÒShe was, as I
said, wearing western clothing. She had on a tight t-shirt that shaped her
young breasts admirably. They were ripe, budding, already the size of
tennis balls, almost growing in front of my eyes, she was so full of
youthful vigor! And how slender she was, yet with gently flaring hips.
She had on small shorts. On an older girl they would be called hot pants,
but on her, in the mind of her mother, at least, they were just small
junior-sized shorts. They were made of the softest cotton. They just
covered her ass, which had a pleasant roundness and bounce to it, and
undulated gracefully as she walked. Yes! Such a bottom!Ó the Sultan
enthused. ÒReally, I should have had her mother arrested for permitting
her daughter to walk about outdoors bare-legged, with just those small,
childish shorts covering her wiggly bottom. Perhaps her mother purchased
the shorts for her daughter when she was younger, and unthinkingly was
still dressing her in them; when, indeed, the girlÕs round behind was
testing the very limits of the fabric.Ó
ÒSire, you did not invite her to join you in your limosine?Ó Prince
Havash asked.
ÒNo,Ó the Sultan said. ÒI should have, but I was in a hurry. She lives
here, in my kingdom. I have time to find her still. She is not yet vaginally
penetrated, of that I am certain, given the carefree joy with which she
walked. Yet, another year will not see her still so innocent, even if my
own hands should be stayed. Of that I am just as certain, for Arab boys
know a good fuck as well as American boys do. DonÕt they, Chloe?Ó the
Sultan asked me.
I blushed. I knew then that he was no wickeder than the boys in
America would would chase after me when I returned home. And I would
let at least one of them seduce me, wouldnÕt I? an accusing little voice
somewhere in my head told me. I denied that! It was too much to
contemplate, being ÔenthronedÕ with my legs apart in front of the Sultan.
To think that, freed from him, I would only return home to open my legs
again, for some other male! I looked frantically at my aunt. I wished her
to save me somehow from my female temperament, from my secretly-held
desire to be stretched, opened, and filled. To empty the men who filled
me. But she sat as I did, her own legs lewdly apart, showing her sex. The
Sultan laughed. He knew, I believe, what I was thinking. He could see the
guilt written on my face and he loved me for it. But despite enthroning me
rudely on a chair before him, forcing me to show myself to him, despite
his tale of lust for an 11-year-old girl, he was too polite to tease me
about what he saw in my eyes. The secret lust; the desire that was my
undoing and would one day put me in a maternity ward, in great pain,
delivering my first child. Would it be his? I shuddered. He promised the
old woman not to make me pregnant; but he wasnÕt God. Perhaps I would
be made enceinte by him after all. He could not predict such things with
absolute certainty. A wave of fancy rushed through me and I saw myself
suddenly as his Queen, his unexpected, scandalous, 13-year-old Queen. I
saw the old woman shaking her head as the Sultan, wicked but ultimately
a good, responsible man, accepted the Will of God and placed a ruby-
studden tiara on my head. Then he would find out the truth of things: that
a woman lets a man strut himself for her, only to be saddled and bridled
by her when she becomes his wife!
30
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