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Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
HOLLAND HUNNIES
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Chapter Three
I plopped on the bench, Mark beside me. I rested my head on his
shoulder. He stroked my hair. Rob sat down with Elizabeth. Gently they
frigged each otherÕs privates, wanting more but knowing Mistress would
not permit it yet. I patted MarkÕs cock. It was tumescent, his balls
bulging and churning below. Helpfully he stabbed his cock in the air,
encouraging me to do more. Mistress bent over, her ass reflecting itself
in a mirror opposite us, and kissed Mark on the head of his cock.
ÒBe good now, we must refresh ourselves,Ó she said. She stood erect
again, brushed her hair from her eyes where it had fallen in her bending.
SheÕd set her tray on a stool and she offered us crackers now, with caviar
on them and cheese in a can. She squirted the cheese onto each caviar-
laden cracker before handing it to us. I considered mine, unsure.
ÒEat it, darlings, it will make you more fertile. The cheese should
help you get it down. It contains a bit of my own secret love potion too,
so we can go all night. Our guests will be most appreciative.Ó She
glanced in the direction of the two who stood over us, clad but for the
manÕs cock and the womanÕs sumptuous breasts. Their faces wore party
masks, I saw now, to shield their identities from our eyes. I had been too
blissful before to notice.
ÒOh, I cannot!Ó Elizabeth whined, holding her cracker aloft and
contemplating it and the observing couple. I knew not which she refused.
Both, perhaps.
ÒRefusal in the dungeon is taken merely as an invitation for
punishment,Ó Mistress replied. Lightly she pushed the cracker with her
fingers into ElizabethÕs open mouth. The girl ate it, munching softly. I
popped mine in and ate it also. I did not wish to be punished any more than
I had already been.
ÒLetÕs see to that beautiful bottom of yours,Ó Mistress told me. She
took a white bearskin rug folded nearby and unfurled it. She laid it on the
floor. At her urging I lay down upon it on my belly. ÒOhhh, how awful of
her,Ó Mistress said, stroking my flinching hiney. I sensed mischief in her
voice. ÒYou can take much more, though, before the night is over, though
you do need some cream now to soothe it.Ó Before I could wriggle up she
was athwart my waist, sitting on me as one might a log, her thighs
splayed over my uprearing back. She bathed my bottom with sweet-
smelling oil, prying even into my uninjured anus as the others watched,
including our masked friends.
ÒOh! I am not hurt there!Ó I complained as she explored my rosehole,
my clenching back door.
ÒBut you might be. It is only two in the afternoon. We have many
hours ahead of us and your boyfriends are still hard as stone,Ó Mistress
replied. Within me her finger twirled as I jerked my hips in response. No
one else complained save me.
ÒWell, men, are you rested?Ó Elizabeth asked brightly when she had
oiled me where I needed it not. Her voice was bright, cheery. Our
boyfriends, desperate more than rested, gulped out replies that could only
be taken as requests to ejaculate. Their penises, once so randily
displayed, were rapidly becoming a liability. There was too much
temptation for them here and not enough relief. Which is exactly, no
doubt, how Mistress wanted it. An unforgettable experience in the
Dungeon of Love, even for me, with my well-prepared ass rearing up most
invitingly even as I strove to keep things out of it.
By now we were all so enthralled by our nude adventures in the
dungeon that we cared not that strangers were watching us. All of us
trembled still on the brink of unanswered pleasure. That strangers, even
masked ones, who cared nothing for us, gazed upon us meant nothing.
Indeed, it seemed somehow perversely inspiring. Their emotions
concealed, they gazed most intently at those parts of us which would
normally be unseen in polite society. And they wished to see our privates
raided. All manner of horrid things could happen to oneÕs privates in a
dungeon such as this. They gazed leeringly, hopefully. I shuddered, could
do nothing. I was a prisoner of Mistress and my own desire.
ÒElizabeth, suck upon Rob so he can poke you in your hiney while
Mark takes Sally that way,Ó Mistress urged. Elizabeth, having trained
herself on my breasts, now turned to my boyfriend. Eagerly she knelt
before him, her thighs spread alluringly wide, as if asking to be poked
even whilst she licked him.
ÒI donÕt know if I need the encouragement,Ó Rob gurgled, feeling the
insucking of ElizabethÕs mouth as she drew him in.
ÒControl, dear boy, control,Ó Mistress replied. She sat atop me still,
brushed her hair back and admired ElizabethÕs sucking. Then she turned
and sucked Mark, diddling me meanwhile on my clitty with her oiled finger.
Soon both men were groaning with their need to come. I gasped
beneath mistress, on the verge of orgasm myself. Only poor Elizabeth
remained unattended to. Gamely she kept both her hands wrapped about
RobÕs balls, holding them down as far as she could to keep him from
spurting in her mouth.
ÒGood, good,Ó Mistress said admiringly between sucking breaths on
MarkÕs cock. ÒYou are a willing and able pupil, Elizabeth. I shall teach you
much.Ó Perhaps fearfully or with a desire to assent, Elizabeth jerked her
bottom. Mistress leaned forward, pressing a hand to my soft ass cheeks
and leaving MarkÕs cock thrusting madly in the air, vacant of anywhere to
spurt save in mid-air. She swatted ElizabethÕs bottom hard, producing a
howl from the girl.
ÒWhat was that for?Ó Elizabeth asked. Tears welled in her eyes. ÒI
thought I was being good!Ó
ÒYou are, dear, until now, when you took your head from RobÕs cock.
If someone wishes to spank your pretty bottom while you are giving head,
you must concentrate on the cock in your mouth, not the hand on your
bottom.Ó With a scowl mistress got Elizabeth to return to RobÕs cock.
Quickly mistress gave her a half-dozen more slaps, testing her resolve to
service Rob. Elizabeth emitted muffled yelps but dutifully kept Rob in her
mouth and her hands up by his balls, squeezing them all the harder even as
her sucking drew upon him more deeply.
ÒOh! God! Stop!Ó Rob cried. He did not want to come, though just
moments before he had sought just such a release. Always on the brink of
coming men try to pull back, to go for more pleasure. Elizabeth felt his
sperm rising within his loins.
ÒMistress! What shall I do?Ó Elizabeth yelled, but it was too late.
Having taken her lips from Rob to speak she got a faceful of sperm. It shot
and spurted all over her even as she tried to recapture it in her mouth.
How embarrassing! In front of strangers! When Elizabeth finally turned
from her failed task of bringing Rob up but not off, I saw that her face
looked as if it had been creamed. Sperm was in her eyes, matted in loose
strands of her hair. It was all over her nose and mouth. Elizabeth blinked
through the manly cream at mistress. ÒIÕm sorry,Ó she apologized.
ÒAt least Mark here still has his load,Ó Mistress replied. She tickled
him underneath his cockhead, nearly making him shoot too. Somehow my
boyfriend had failed, at least in the initial round, where Mark had cum
through with flying colors, his seed still safely contained in his balls.
ÒSuch are the vicissitudes of arousal,Ó mistress said to me, patting
my head. She bent forward and consoled me with cooling licks of her
tongue upon my hiney.
ÒUp! Darlings,Ó Mistress urged us. Bodily she lifted me from the
comfy bearskin. Up onto my feet I rose, a little wobbly still, my cunny
tingling from her finger. Elizabeth, the bride at a wedding where the cake
had been put into her face (or so it looked!) got to her feet unsteadily,
wiping sperm from her eyes so she could see. And my Rob, limp now but
hopefully soon to return to the fray, stood, as did Mark. He seemed to be
of special interest to Mistress, at least for what remained still neatly
bagged twixt his legs. Gently, taking him by his swollen cockhead,
Mistress led Mark deeper into the dungeon. Our observers followed, though
at a distance. We were players and they our appreciative audience.
Mistress put MarkÕs back to a post. His cock stuck out at a ninety
degree angle, stiff as the wood she wished to bind him to. He did not
complain. He was beyond complaining. He was submerged in a world
where only the passionate surging of his loins existed, nothing else. All
around him boobs quavered temptingly, one pair only belonging to the
girlfriend he loved, the rest to new females, young and healthy and
reproductively fit, their honeyed pussies tightly offered. We teased him
with caressing fingers and hands, careful not to make him spill. Mistress
raised his muscled arms above his head. With frayed ropes she bound his
wrists, ropes affixed to the post for generations now perhaps. They had,
she whispered, held Jews during the Nazi occupation, men struggling as
Mark struggled now, with cock displayed. Nazi women perhaps had
pleasured themselves with men here, Jewish men or French resistance
fighters, tickling their balls or cutting them off, as they wished or as the
Fuhrer required. Now only Mistress ruled, and her games were less
violent, though just as arduous.
Mark, his wrists bound now, stabbed the air with his cock. Being
bound, having enjoyed the pleasure of MistressÕ closeness, her breasts,
stiff nippled, pricking his chest as she tied him, he wanted to be free
again. But we would not let him. We danced round him like naked savages,
Indians without our warpaint on, our breasts bouncing on our chest like
loose melons. Mistress fetched a hose. It was the only source of water in
our private dungeon room, she said, attached to a faucet that emitted only
ice cold water.
ÒOoooh, you look a little excited, darling,Ó Mistress cooed to Mark
with a devilish look in her eyes. My Rob stood by, looking forlorn despite
the obvious hardships Mark was enduring, his penis standing erect, his
butt wilfully grinding against the wood post despite the danger of
splinters. Men want so desperately to play, yet can only lose, shooting
their seed and ending the game. With his stiff cock waggling helplessly,
hopelessly in the air, Mark watched Mistress as she put the hose to his
cock. One hose facing down another, one man, the other man-made. ÒYou
need a cold shower. Elizabeth, turn on the tap, please. Only ice-cold
water comes out of this hose, young man, so if this doesnÕt cool you down
I donÕt know what will!Ó As Mark watched the hose with fearful yet
enthralled eyes, his girlfriend ran to the faucet. She bent, offering us a
view of her alluring bottomcheeks with their sweetly-curved undersides
uplifted, her cunny peeping between. Sperm dripped from her face onto the
facet handle. My boyfriendÕs sperm. She gripped it, twisted the handle.
ÒAuggh!Ó Mark cried aloud, his voice echoing in our dungeon chamber.
Water from the fjords of Norway, or some deep artesian well, spurted
coldly onto his boldly displayed prick. Over it the water freely sloshed, a
teasing reminder of the freedom with which he wished to slosh out the
contents of his own balls, drawn from deep within the well of his own
loins. ÒAughghg!Ó He cried again, yet now I saw he was adjusting slightly
to the spray, enjoying it, loving the soothing cooling sensation that
washed his cock, bathed it with clean cool water, ice water from the deep
earth sprayed lovingly onto his organ. Yet he remained utterly hard. His
veined member pulsed more vigorously than ever. His breath puffed in his
cheeks, his chest heaved, last of all his stomach clenched and eased. He
stood quietly in the spray. Mistress kept the hose on his cock only. The
water ran from it, spattered his legs and the floor, cleansed his tightly-
held balls beyond. But all else remained dry. His chest hair, his face, his
knotted-off arms and wrists. Only his loins enjoyed the intense ordeal
pleasure of the water; shocking at first, easing now, pure pleasure at last.
Soon he was thinking only of his own need to cum again, though the water
spurted on.
ÒOff!Ó Mistress ordered. Bottom swaying, fruit of her breasts,
pendant, Elizabeth twisted off the faucet. Jiggling like Eve she returned
to us. SheÕd hoped to wash her face but Mistress had not given permission
yet.
Elizabeth turned and regarded Mark. Her own slit pulsed hungrily,
unfed. ÒMistress, please let me mount him,Ó Elizabeth begged. She looked
wide-eyed at his engorged, finely displayed penis, a child window
shopping before a favorite candy store.
ÒYour treat must wait, dear,Ó Mistress said. There were other posts
nearby. She led Elizabeth to one and bound her facing it. There was a
padded leather bolster some distance in front of it. Binding ElizabethÕs
wrists high on the post, facing it, meant arching her over the bolster that
stood in front of the post. Arched thus Elizabeth stood with her bottom
offered to us. Her posture was of someone leaning forward to reach for
something she could not quite get. Mistress slipped her palms to the
insides of ElizabethÕs thighs. With outward pressing hands she spread
Elizabeth from behind. I took her cue and knelt. I brushed hair from my
face. I was graceful even now. We had visitors, watching us. I must be
graceful for them even in my nudity. I bound ElizabethÕs left ankle to a
steel ring set in the floor. I scuttled round on my knees to ElizabethÕs
right ankle, bound that one also. I stood, Mistress stepped back from
Elizabeth. Wriggling in her bent posture Elizabeth rolled her bottom
before us, a fish caught yet unstabbed as yet with the necessary harpoon.
Mistress turned to our guests. The manÕs cock was hard. His
mistress stroked it with loving fingers. Her breasts showed, plump
gourds ready for the feast.
ÒSir, would you like to take her?Ó Mistress asked our male visitor.
ÒNo!Ó Elizabeth cried. The man wore a mask. She had not a clue who
he was.
ÒShush, dear. He is free of disease. You have no right to refuse here,
as you might on the street. You are here to be fucked and that is the
beginning and end of it.Ó Elizabeth, though, perhaps to be coy, perhaps
truly not wanting it from this man, wriggled disobediently at her post, her
bottom nonetheless sweetly if forcibly offered.
ÒI do not want to! Not with him!Ó Elizabeth protested quite loudly.
ÒThen you must, dear, shush or I shall bring a whip to your bottom,Ó
Mistress replied.
ÒLet me!Ó I said. I wanted revenge for the games sheÕd played with
mine.
ÒYes, that would be nice, wouldnÕt it?Ó Mistress answered. ÒUse a
strap, though. I want you to hit her as hard as you can, and a whip would
be to thin and cruel for that, at least on such a young child. She is not
even twenty yet, are you dear?Ó Mistress regarded Elizabeth lovingly but
with no temperament for letting her escape what must come.
ÒI am--I am-- I am 17!Ó Elizabeth squawked, a duck protestething
too much the Christmas feast.
ÒWah!Ó Elizabeth shouted as mistress slapped her bottom with her
hand.
ÒYou are nothing of the sort, dear. You are nineteen, I am sure of it.
Is she not, Mark?Ó Mistress said. Her boyfriend nodded. His face was
grim but he was enduring his blissful agony on the post well. He knew not
whether he wanted to cum or not, only that his huge engorged organ was
bothering him mightily, throbbing and pulsing and waving about cockily,
hungry for pussy, hungry to spend. Rob meanwhile was newly inspired, his
own rod rising quickly. In minutes he would be ready to rejoin us. We
might torture him then too, and he knew it. And the thought made him
harder still.
I fetched a strap from the wall, a broad one that would allow me to
give her many strokes. Elizabeth, her hair tousled, looked back at me over
her shoulder. Her face was still dewy with expended sperm. Rob was
making more for her. She would have a plaster sperm-mask made of her
face before daybreak, I thought.
ÒNo! Please! IÕm sorry! WhoooooOH!Ó Elizabeth howled. Without
remorse I slammed the first stroke of the belt into her bottom, walloping
her hard as I could with it. It was flat leather, not the buckle. I held that
in my fist. Even I was not that wicked.
ÒAgain. Harder,Ó Mistress encouraged.
I swung in again. ElizabethÕs hiney took the blow, her hips rocked,
her bottom cheeks pressed in and rebounded. A red splurge spread across
them, they wobbled sweetly.
ÒA little harder.Ó Mistress advised.
Again I drew my hand, my arm back. I swung in fiercely, slapped her
fully across both cheeks. Elizabeth nearly jumped to the ceiling, or
wished to, her ankles straining at their bonds.
ÒYes, good. Now that you have tested the limits of your strength and
know what you can do, now that you are no longer afraid, ease off a little,
give her broad swathing strokes, harsh but not evil. She can stand the pain
and her bottom can suffer the punishment. It is just fat, nothing else. You
are only using a strap. Give her what she deserves and make her remember
that Holland was not, after all, utterly boring.Ó With MistressÕ patter of
encouragement in my ear I slung in two more sweeping strokes. Elizabeth
hooted and lost her composure, began sobbing. Her tears mingled with my
boyfriendÕs sperm.
ÒOh, stoppp!Ó Elizabeth called out to us. She waggled her tushy,
hoping to shed the sting of the strap as a dog sheds off water. Mistress
walked over to her, looked directly into her imploring brown eyes. She
drew back her hand and slapped Elizabeth right across her cheek, though I
noticed the blow landed less harshly than MistressÕ exaggerated hand-
sweep might have implied. Both womensÕ bosoms shook.
Elizabeth looked shocked for a moment. Just before she was about
to bawl forth new tears, Mistress caught her face in a gripping delicate
hand, squishing her cheeks together and making her mouth pucker out
between them. She kissed the girl, then looked at her tear stained face
with open admiration. ÒYou look beautiful when youÕre crying!Ó Mistress
told Elizabeth. She licked her lips, her own lips, for upon contact with
ElizabethÕs sheÕd picked up traces of my boyfriendÕs sperm.
Elizabeth did look beautiful, I thought, weighing the strap in my
palm, waiting for their tableau to finish. Of course, she looked just as
beautiful, in my eyes, when not crying, but to have mentioned that might
have abated the whipping.
ÒYou shall strap me one day if IÕm not careful enough to avoid it, you
delicious minx,Ó Mistress consoled Elizabeth, giving her a second kiss,
tasting more sperm. She did not mean by force, either, I guessed, for
Elizabeth had a tawny strength about her that might have posed a
challenge even for Rob or Mark. You could not readily tell it, looking at her
slim, supple arms, modelÕs arms, widest at the joints with bare flesh and
bone in between. But IÕd watched her bind Mark, seen how sheÕd overcome
his momentary reservations and struggles. Perhaps sheÕd learned karate
as a little girl, or judo, something that left no traces in the bodyÕs
formation but gave it learning and depth of strength all the same.
Mistress whisked herself away from Elizabeth, licking her lips once
more to taste the residue of sperm sheÕd picked up in kissing her, and
ordered me to begin again.
In the cool of our private dungeon Elizabeth gave a hip-wriggling
display of her over-warmed posterior. And I was the one who was doing it
to her--me, a complete novice in the art of Òbasting the bottom,Ó as
Mistress chose to refer to it, whispering in my ear that I could make her
ass as Òwell doneÓ as I wished.
ÒOh! I do not want to hurt her!Ó I replied. And indeed my strokes,
hard as I might have tried to make them, had been awkward at best. She
was quite reddened in the rear, but injured nowhere. I noticed that her
Òbottom basting,Ó due entirely to me, was arousing my precious boyfriend
in a major way. Instead of Ògetting evenÓ with Elizabeth, as I imagined
myself to be doing at first, I was merely creating in my boyfriend a desire
to fuck her! His cock, fully erect now, quavered with every blow of the
belt on ElizabethÕs tender bottom. It seemed somehow mentally connected
to her ass, its stiff quivering most pronounced when she yahooed and
flexed her cheeks.
Suddenly I threw the belt down. ÒOh! I can do no more! It is doing no
good!Ó I cried. Mistress knew exactly what I meant. She took my
boyfriend by his hand and drew him cock-quivering to ElizabethÕs
wriggling fanny.
ÒFeel, honey,Ó she said, more intimate than ever with my man. ÒPut
your hands to her seat and feel the lusciousness of the warmth that the
whip has created there. Watch your penis! Do not stab her with it.Ó
Trembling, my Rob grabbed at ElizabethÕs rounded ass. He gripped her
twins cheeks in his big palms and stilled her squirmings. Captured thus,
she could not move. But her breasts, still free, shook wilfully, as if to
make up for the loss of movement in her behind. Rob rammed his cock into
her furrow, letting it jut up betwixt the offered cheeks, the head
protruding toward the ceiling like some spear, its tip glistening with pre-
cum. Up and down the spear moved as Rob shafted it between the painfully
clenching cheeks of ElizabethÕs ass. He held her tightly, possessively with
his hands. Mistress slipped forward to where ElizabethÕs boobies jostled,
grabbed at her nipples, pinching them. She was utterly contained. Nothing
could move, save the threshing of her pretty head, its long chestnut locks
streaming over her back like rivulets of glossy water. Back and forth,
back and forth her head moved, as Mistress milked her tits with her
fingers and RobÕs cock jutted up and down twixt her close-held cheeks.
I felt angry at my boyfriendÕs lust for Elizabeth. Not bothering to
pick up the belt, I stepped forward and slapped his hard buttocks with my
hand. He clenched them, otherwise he did not relent in any way, his
simulated fucking of her ass crack continued unabated. With a flurry of
handspanks I disciplined him as best I could.
ÒNaughty! Naughty, bad boy!Ó I cried, tears welling in my eyes. I felt
frustrated, yearning yet unfulfilled, and yet my boyfriend had his manhood
wedged in the fanny of another woman! RobÕs only response was to thrust
more eagerly.
Mistress, with a better view of RobÕs true condition, saw his face
grimace and his cockhead shiver uncontrollably. He could stand no more. I
had brought him to the brink, rather than causing him to desist. Mistress
swept her hand down to the floor and retrieved a bottle of baby oil that
had somehow been left there, perhaps by other players. She squirted a
little in the air, to cleanse the tip, and then directed the stream onto the
head of RodÕs surging organ. He watched grim-faced as the slick oil
coated his cockhead, sending spasms of uncontrolled pleasure through his
loins.
ÒQuick! Get it inside her,Ó Mistress commanded him. With lust-
bleared eyes Rob pulled his shaft from ElizabethÕs enclosing cheeks. He
drew back, pointed his arrow, then thrust forward at her little nether
hole. A disciplining spank from me impelled him forward, helping him to
do the very thing I wished to prevent.
ÒAugh! Ugh! Augh!Ó Rob sounded animalistic as he eagerly raped
ElizabethÕs ass, desperate to get himself as deep into her as often as
possible before all was lost. Elizabeth screamed at his rapid entry but
then settled into little mewling whimpers. Rob gained some footage and
then withdrew, sank in again, both of them moist from their adventures in
the dungeon. Mistress helpfully placed a finger to ElizabethÕs clit and
brought her to the precipice sheÕd sought since she first drew down her
panties within the chamberÕs cold unfeeling walls. Entombed deep into
mortar, a catacomb fit only for the dead, Rob spurted his lifegiving sperm
up into ElizabethÕs hot, wildly thrashing body. A ringmistress, our Miss
Wentworth helped both of them along, moulding them together, her hand
slipping back to impress its fingers into RobÕs ass, whilst her other hand
now slipped up to press in on ElizabethÕs soft belly.
For his part, watching Rob fuck his girlfriend, watching the sluicing
motions that were now climaxing, Mark was not inactive. With every
inthrusting drive of Rob up his wifeÕs tender ass, Mark thrust forth his
own cock into the air, fucking, though he had nothing but the cool of
dungeon to impale. I turned, watched mesmerized as his tool rent the air.
He looked so precious yet so futile, his cock erect beyond belief, his tight
little sac of balls hugely swollen by his unspent sperm, carefully tucked
between his legs for its maximum protection.
ÒWhatsa matter, little boy? Did your cock get hard last night and
you werenÕt able to get it off?Ó I called to him, teasingly. He looked at me
grim-faced. He was not a little boy, I knew, but a man, with a manÕs
needs. It was wrong to deny him. He must be milked nightly at his young
age, there was no escaping it. I hesitated, loving his torture, the rude
jabbing of his tool, so huge and terrible, so hopeless. I was female. I was
not meant to hurt men but to serve them. My womb scolded me. My
nipples, thorns upon my breasts, offered themselves nurturingly. I grazed
my belly with my fingertips. It felt empty.
Leaving my boyfriend to his self-appointed duties, I turned to Mark.
I reached between his thighs and caught his balls and undid the choking
cord which held them.
ÒItÕs time you came too, sir,Ó I breathed. My words were randy,
lusty. His balls, bloated, fell into my palm. I squeezed the nuts, he
groaned. I squeezed again. I was a policewoman searching a suspect,
looking for treasure. ÒDo you wish to spend the family jewels, sir?Ó I
asked. He looked at me, his eyes rolling down with unbridled sexuality.
ÒMount me, bitch,Ó he ordered, though he was bound to the post and I
was utterly free. Slavelike I did as he asked. I stood on tiptoe, opened my
thighs, grabbed hold of his organ with both hands. I brought myself
forward and pushed him into me. Gasping, I felt him enter. Freely I rutted
myself on his horn of plenty. He filled me, impaled me. I drove myself
back and forth on him, savoring each inthrusting stroke. He split me and I
could not stop myself.
When we had exhausted ourselves in our twin couplings, Rob in
Elizabeth and myself upon Mark, each adulterous, Mistress led us out. She
led us down the hall. We were naked, our clothes left behind, perhaps to
be retrieved as souvenirs by those whoÕd watched us. We barely glanced at
them as we passed, we were absorbed in our own fulfillment still,
uncaring of others. Nude and dripping with our own lust we followed
Mistress, herself still swaying randily with unfulfilled needs, prettily
contained. Her hips rolled alluringly, sweetly, my gait was awkward as
was ElizabethÕs. Mark and Rob walked like soldiers just off the
battlefield. Their steps were slurred, as ours were. Blindly we followed
mistress, not caring, not protesting. She led and we followed like
passive, satisfied sheep.
A shower. Within a small, tiled room. Mistress turned on the water
and we all bathed together. At first we just stood, letting the water run
over us. It was warm, nice. Someone found soap, mistress perhaps, and
we began pleasurably scrubbing each other with our bare hands. We
revived ourselves in the spray. Mistress had to turn it to cold to settle us
down at the end.
We stepped from the shower, dried each other with clean, rough
towels. Mistress took us into an adjacent room. It too was small. Its
walls were of oak. There was a little cabinet there, a hairdrier, lipstick,
toiletries. And a potty was in a small alcove.
ÒWe shall go swimming, out back in the pool,Ó Mistress said. She
was in charge of our pleasure now, our vacation in its boredom had fallen
completely into her hands. ÒThere will be strangers. Here, put these on.
You may then undress as you please, or not, depending on what you see. It
will give you modesty anyhow.Ó She handed us the tiniest of bikinis. I
tried on the bra. Its cups were useless, covering only little triangles of
flesh, leaving the mounds of my boobs largely uncovered. But I tied the
top on anyway. It was a game, I think. A game of hide and seek, the
private parts version.
My panties proved no more secure in guaranteeing any portion of my
modesty than the bra had. They were flimsy, easily torn. They failed to
cover all of my bush in front. They left my bottom cheeks bulging out in
back, my ass crack showing much of itself. Along the sides there was
nothing, just slender ties that I made into pretty bows.
The men fared no better. Their cocks, hard again, could not be
contained by the briefs mistress gave them. The heads shot up out of the
front of their suits. Below their balls, refilling already, bulged manfully,
threatening to burst out between their legs.
Mistress gave herself a suit no better than ours. ÒAh well,Ó she
sighed. ÒDo the best you can with them, mine is no better. Perhaps a
different swimsuit supplier will have to be gotten next time.Ó There was
a gleam in her eyes. I doubted she would change suppliers. She gave us
jelly heels, mine pink, ElizabethÕs yellow. The men were given flipflops.
We put on sunglasses, visors. We each took a towel and a bottle of tanning
lotion. Mistress offered me an innertube and the men helped me inflate it.
Into the bright sunshine we stepped moments later, fresh from the
dungeon. We were in mistressÕ private backyard. Tall evergreens
protected it from prying eyes. But there were other guests present,
swimming, sunning themselves. Heads turned, some listless, others wide
awake. We were admired as we walked idly to a foursome of chaise
lounges. I looked around at the other guests. They were mostly young, all
handsome. Some wore bikinis, others nothing. Reaching the chaise
lounges we put down our things, spread out our towels.
Mistress lay down in her chaise lounge like a tigress returning to her
lair; tawny, supple, ravishingly beautiful. She retained her sunglasses and
visor, but, getting comfy, thrust her bikini panties down to her knees. She
left them there, an invitation perhaps. Rob, still standing, squirted suntan
lotion onto the white band of skin that ran through mistressÕ pussy. She
looked up at him, smiled. With long-fingered hands she soothed the
offered lotion into her skin. Rob dropped down his shorts and squirted
lotion onto his dick. Then he lay down on his own chaise lounge, offering
his organ up to the sun god.
I lay on my belly. Reaching down, I yanked down my panties in back,
giving everyone a view of my whip-marked bottom. The lashes were
almost gone now, but still I secretly thrilled that someone might see what
IÕd suffered for love.
Elizabeth, her bottom a much redder hue, opted to sit as carefully
down as she could (her ass still stinging), and bare her pussy. She was too
embarrassed to let people see what IÕd done to her. Perhaps later she
would turn over.
Mark, his cock hard once more and eager, prowled around us a
moment, unsure what to do. Finally, relenting in our choice of
peacefulness, he lay down. But he was restless. He tossed and turned on
his chaise lounge. He forgot to pull down his swimsuit at first, then tore
it off, threw it into some flowers growing nearby. Daisies, I think. In his
hardness he rolled back and forth on his clean white towel, soiling it
perhaps at the waist-level with pre-cum. I glanced at him. I smiled. He
looked at me, his head propped up on one arm. A Playgirl boy, randy and
ready. I stuck my tongue out at him, turned on my side, away from him.
Let him admire my ass for now. Later perhaps I would play. Mistress
would protect me from his wildness.
Secreted from somewhere within her towel, mistress drew forth a
little cat oÕ nine tails. ItÕs cords were made of soft leather, but with
little tips that promised a nasty bite should they be struck down hard.
She swished them lightly over her slit, her thighs. She shot Mark a
warning glance. They could be used much more harshly on his loins, if she
chose. Mark seemed entranced by the toy, yet obeyed nonetheless. With
exposed privates, we girls still in our nothing bras, we offered our
tenderest parts up, passersby admiring them as the sun shone brightly
down.
Later I rose and went to the pool. My panties still thoughtlessly,
teasingly at my knees, my bra on, I watched as half-a-dozen girls played
volleyball. The water was not deep, knee-high perhaps, where they played.
Their breasts bounced easily. Some wore bras that had lost a recent
battle with their jouncing mammaries. The bras ringed their waists,
uselessly, or clung higher, the tits free nonetheless. Other girls had taken
their bras off beforehand. Still other bras floated on the surface of the
water, or sank within, parted from the girl whoÕd brought them.
I stepped into the pool. I wished to join them. I did not touch my
bra. It would not stay on long, I knew, once I got fully into the game. My
jumping and leaping would free my breasts. I did not care. It looked fun, I
wanted to play volleyball, let my tits be seen if need be. My panties I took
off. I wanted complete freedom for my legs. I wanted nothing to bind
them, even at the waist. I left my panties behind, floating. Sloshing I
advanced through the water. A girl turned, smiled at me.
ÒAh, a true athlete,Ó she said. She too wore no panties, though some
other girls did. ÒWe like playing as the ancient Greeks did, nude,Ó she
smiled, jokingly. I smiled back.
Upon reaching the girls, I saw that all of them showed marks of
having been whipped. Some had marks across their soft bellies, others
upon their breasts. One girlsÕ back had been sliced up while another had
suffered upon the thighs. Many of them had marks on their bottoms. The
girl closest to me, my fellow Olympian in spirit, had weals on her tushy. I
bent, examined them. The game paused, waiting for me to join them.
I traced the girlÕs ridged whip-marks with my fingertips. ÒOooh, do
these hurt?Ó I asked.
ÒOnly when I move,Ó she smiled. She seemed proud of her marks,
showing them off, as did many of the other girls. Ranged around us were
their boyfriends, or mistresses, the very ones whoÕd marked them up. I
gazed at these strangers, so wicked; they saw my fear of them and smiled.
They wished to have me, I knew. Would I go? I would play in front of
them, at least, show them my spirit. It frightened me, yet I knew they
could not have me without my own mistressÕ permission.
We played; the ball flew. I lost my bra as quickly as I feared I
would, leaping to strike the ball back upon our opponents. Adipose tissue
volleyball, it might have been called, given all the asses and tits flying
about. We laughed, we giggled. When we were done we embraced each
other in the lapping waters. I kissed my newest friend, a girl of 17 whoÕd
played beside me. We were teammates, buddies. WeÕd won the game
together. The girl with the ridges on her bottom tousled our hair as we
kissed each otherÕs mouths, our tongues light, teasing. SheÕd pointed out
her boyfriend to me and IÕd liked him, smiled at him. He sat watching us
with a riding crop in his hand, his cock erect, stroked by a helpful
mistress.
We clambered out of the pool. Mistress Wentworth was there. She
reached out and took my hand and helped me up. Lovingly she toweled me
off. She reclaimed me, leading me back to my boyfriend, Elizabeth, Mark.
She sat me down on her chaise lounge. She sat beside me and stroked my
long hair. Across from us sat Elizabeth, snuggled between Rob and Mark.
Their cocks were fiercely displayed. They looked like twin Tarzans in the
sunlight, their hair wild, wet from lap swimming in the poolÕs deepest
parts. Elizabeth was their treasure, she hoped, a mermaid washed up onto
shore between them.
Mistress surveyed us all, our healthfulness, sun-browned, our tits
still whiter than the rest of our skin, our bottoms rabbit-tails still, for
clouds had come, shielding us from the strongest rays as we played in the
pool. Looking at mistress I remembered our exploits in our private
dungeon. I guessed weÕd return there now. Her gaze seemed to confirm it.
But then she added:
ÒNow that youÕve been broken in a little you may join other people in
their dungeons if you wish.Ó I felt a shadow drop across me. I looked up.
It was my newfound friend, 17, her boyfriend, their mistress. They looked
down upon me, wishing me to come with them. I sought my boyfriendÕs
eyes, asked permission. He considered, nodded.
Responding quickly, before I could change my mind, I blew my
boyfriend a kiss and rose to my feet. My hand was swept up by my new
friend.
ÒIÕm Samantha,Ó she whispered, smiling. Her tummy was marked,
lightly. Otherwise she was unmarked. Our mistress had deeper-hued
lashes across her bottom.
ÒIÕm Sally,Ó I breathed.
ÒThis is Elegina, she takes care of us while weÕre here,Ó Samantha
said, pointing to my new mistress. ÒAnd this is Tom, my boyfriend.Ó
ÒPleased to meet you, Tom,Ó I said, and reached my hand out. He took
it but, instead of shaking it, put it to his stiff cock. I gasped. I looked at
him, at Elegina, lastly at Samantha. I laughed. Gamely I curled my
fingertips around his stiff shaft. Then I bent, sucked it lightly. Samantha
palmed my bottom, discovered my pussylips. She made me shiver.
I rose, my lips wet, pre-cum glistening on them, a thread of it rising
with my rising, breaking. I let go of him.
Elegina took one of my hands, Samantha the other. Together we
walked with Tom into the house. The hallway was refreshingly cool after
the hot sun. My heels spoke softly on the tiled floor. All else was long
gone; my visor, my sunglasses, my bikini. Only my shoes remained, jelly
shoes, easy to wear and comfortable. They would protect my feet from
any nails in the new dungeon, tacks and mice and skittering bugs from
medieval ages past. Yet the rest of me, exposed, would have to fare as
best it could. I hoped my new playmates would be gentle. I wanted
pleasure, not pain. But I was in a dungeon, not the best place for a girl to
avoid punishment.
30
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-END OF story EMISSION