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Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
Intimate Acts
Chapter Two
Word soon spread of Mr. and Mrs. Brown's eager new acquisition, and
orders flooded in for a chance to meet Emily. Her next party took place
not in the home of the Brown's, but at the nearby home of a wealthy
aristocrat and his wife.
"You will be spending the night, dear," Mrs. Brown instructed Emily
as she brushed the girl's long blonde hair to a glorious lustre.
"What- what do you think they will have me do?" Emily asked, gazing
at her made-up face in a mirror, still naked, her nipples rouged, waiting
for Mrs. Brown to finish with her hair so that she might choose a dress for
the evening.
"You must be prepared for anything, which is why I am sending you to
these two next," Mrs. Brown said to the girl. She addressed her reflection
as she brushed her hair, and Emily was aware of the woman looking not so
much at her hair, tumbling down her naked back, as the vision of her bare
breasts presented in the mirror. Teasingly Emily opened her legs. She
gave Mrs. Brown a view of her bush.
"I think you might want to brush my pubic hair too," Emily said to
Mrs. Brown. She still remembered well how the woman had tongued her to
bliss two nights ago on the dining room table.
"Tch. A quick brush maybe, but you must not be too much in earnest
when you arrive at their house," Mrs. Brown answered. A brief tremble
passed through Emily.
"Ohhh, Mrs. Brown. I don't really want to go," Emily sighed. "Can't
you just put me on the table downstairs again and do me? It was so
delicious! I never thought a woman could be so wonderful." Mrs. Brown
smiled.
"You are to be trained, dear. Keeping you cooped up in the house and
fucking you for my own enjoyment will not broaden your horizons." Emily
pouted.
"Oh, pooh!" she said. Mrs. Brown stopped brushing her long golden
locks. She went round in front of the girl. Immediately Emily wettened.
She spread her legs like an eager puppy and watched with fascination as
Mrs. Brown lowered the hairbrush to her pussy. "Ooooooh!" Emily gasped,
as a quick swipe of the brush made her even wetter and more excited.
"There. That's enough. I want your panties to be dry when you greet
the Aaronson's," Mrs. Brown said to the girl. "They might inspect you, you
know," she added.
"You mean, feel my panties?" Emily gasped, keeping her thighs apart
in invitation for another pass of the hairbrush.
"They are dominants, dear. They're going to do much more to you
than just feel your underwear," Mrs. Brown said to the girl. She checked
her makeup, smiled, and added, "The man's nearly 60. I doubt you'll find
yourself attracted to him. Which is exactly why I've picked them to be
your next clients. I want you to be able to do whomever I choose, without
reservations." Touching a finger to silence a gasp from Emily, Mrs. Brown
said, "However the woman of the house is a young bitch. I think you'll like
her. She's 23, very lovely, and has a wicked sense of fun. She can be quite
demanding, and I've told her to be sure to challenge you this evening."
"You're mean!" Emily gasped.
"No, I'm making sure you're properly trained," Mrs. Brown said.
Emily was taken to the home of the Aaronson's by Mr. Brown. He took
Emily to the door and knocked for her. A light came on in a window beside
the door. Then the door opened, and an ancient man, almost 60 years old,
peered out.
"I have a delivery," Mr. Brown told the man. Emily blanched and felt
her stomach churn. Was this the man she was expected to sexually
satisfy? He was older than her father.
"Ah yes. Bring her in," the older man said. Emily felt her hand
tremble as Mr. Brown took it and passed it to the man. He grasped it, with
barely hidden glee.
"I should rather not come in, lest I fall prey to your wife," Mr. Brown
told Mr. Aaronson.
"Oh yes," Mr. Aaronson said. He let out a cackle. Emily felt as if she
were about to shrink into his elegant stone doorstoop. A moment later she
was yanked inside, the older man peering at her with less than fatherly
interest. She felt like a girl in a pin-up magazine, with sperm about to
splatter all over her. There were footsteps, but she barely noticed them,
as the front door shut behind her and she felt intense pressure upon her
wrist, where the old man was holding her. "The girl is here," Mr. Aaronson
said to his wife. Emily turned.
"Oh!" Emily gasped in shock. For Mrs. Aaronson was as young and
beautiful as her husband was old. Obviously she had married him because
he could provide her with a sumptuously decadent lifestyle. Emily had
barely had time to even glance around, yet she could see that she was in an
intensely elegant house. Everything in the house came from London's
finest shops, and, though she did not know it, things were frequently taken
back when they failed to live up to the old man's rarefied taste, and the
increasing sophisticated taste of his wife, despite their first-class
origin. Emily was taken hold of by Mrs. Aaronson. To her relief she felt
the old man let go of her wrist. She got a glimpse of four gorgeous young
men sitting in the couple's parlor, and then, next thing she knew, she was
in the kitchen.
Mrs. Aaronson gazed at her new guest with interest. She had big
dark lovely eyes and a pert nose, beneath which was a sexy young mouth
that looked perfectly shaped for teasing men's cocks. Emily thought again
of the four men in the parlor. What was this young smartly dressed
woman going to do with them? Emily's eyes trailed from the woman's
slim neck down to her bosom, even as Mrs. Aaronson sized up Emily's own
tits with her eyes. The wife had lovely big breasts, bigger than Emily's.
They were presently contained behind a blouse and a buttoned jacket, but,
owing to the jacket's decollete nature, and the way her blouse already had
three buttons undone, Emily suspected that the young wife would not long
remain so well clothed. She saw no evidence of a bra under the half-
unbuttoned blouse. When Mrs. Aaronson moved or breathed, her bosom gave
an enticing jiggle. Lower down the woman's slim hips were encased in a
tight-fitting skirt. To Emily's surprise, the skirt was so short that it
showed off the underside of her panties, right where her cunt was. Indeed,
the woman's jacket was longer than her skirt. It spread into a sexy open
vee at its base, allowing a view of Mrs. Aaronson's panties and the center
of her skirt. As for the rest of her skirt, off to either side, her jacket
hung down over it, blocking it from Emily's view. The woman wore dark
see-through stockings that rose right up to the tops of her thighs. They
were kept in place by ruffled bands of silk that were part of her stockings.
An inch wide, the bands were thicker and more elaborate that the see-
through sheaths that encased the rest of her legs. The woman wore black
spiked heels that matched her black jacket. Yet her jacket was not made
of leather but of cloth. This sassy young woman didn't need the added
touch of leather to let everyone know she was a total bitch.
Showing with her eyes that she liked what she saw, Mrs. Aaronson
said to Emily, as the young woman smelled food cooking in the kitchen,
"Hurry. The men are waiting. Take off all your clothes." Emily blinked.
She tried to comply. But as she began unbuttoning her pink blouse, and as
Mrs. Aaronson stepped behind her to unzip her skirt, she suddenly felt her
stomach knot up. A moment later she was rushing to the sink. She threw
up in it.
"It's alright. It's alright," Mrs. Aaronson said, patting Emily on the
back as she threw up what little she'd had to eat at the Brown's for dinner.
"You are young and unsure of yourself. It will pass." Emily finished
throwing up. Mrs. Aaronson got out some mouthwash for her to clean her
mouth with. When Emily had gargled with it, several times, Mrs. Aaronson
commenced undressing her, unzipping her skirt the rest of the way and
letting it drop to her ankles. Gazing at Emily's pretty white panties, Mrs.
Aaronson told her, "You're very beautiful."
Soon Emily was naked. However she wasn't yet ready to go meet the
men. Mr. Aaronson appeared, bringing items for Emily to wear. The girl
saw a pair of long black stockings, similar to what Mrs. Aaronson wore.
And spiked heels, purchased to Emily's measurements, which Mrs. Brown
had forwarded to the Aaronson's that afternoon. In addition Emily saw a
little black mask, and a sparkling bauble that she had no idea how she was
supposed to wear. it looked too large to be an earring. It made a tinkling
bell sound as Mr. Aaronson laid it on the kitchen counter. If it was an
earring, where was the other one, for Emily's other ear?
Mrs. Aaronson brushed Emily's long blonde hair with a brush. Then,
to Emily's uncomfortable surprise, she had Emily stand still, which was
difficult to do, as she brushed Emily's pubic hair.
"My, you're wiggly," Mrs. Aaronson said to the girl as she longed to
feel the bristly brush inbetween her legs. Indeed, despite her better
judgement, Emily opened her legs for Mrs. Aaronson. But the woman
pretended to ignore Emily's unstated request. However Mr. Aaronson didn't.
"I think she wants a quick brush in her pretty cunt," Mr. Aaronson
said to his wife.
"She wants many things, I'm sure," Mrs. Aaronson answered. "And
will get all in due time, I'm sure."
The little black mask, which matched Emily's stockings and shoes,
was tied over her eyes. She could see through it. However her identity
was now hidden, she noticed, looking in a mirror. Who was she? The men
would not know, although they wouldn't have known even if they had seen
her without the mask. She was just a girl. But she felt fetchingly
mysterious gazing at herself with the pretty mask on.
However the final item of Emily's attire was much less intriguing to
her. It turned out that the tinkling bauble, the one that looked too big to
be an earring, was in fact something to be dangled between her legs. It
was, specifically, a butt bauble. It had a golden clasp at the top which,
when inserted into Emily's anus and sprung, like an opened trap, would
hold it in place. Emily watched as Mrs. Aaronson got out a bottle of baby
oil and lubricated the clasp.
"Bend over," Mrs. Aaronson told Emily.
"Ohhh, couldn't we skip that?" Emily asked, her eyes wide, hearing
Mr. Aaronson cackle behind her.
"No," Mrs. Aaronson told Emily. The girl bent over. She grimaced as
she felt Mrs. Aaronson spread the cheeks of her bottom. Then there was a
sharp stabbing pain, which grew more painful when Mrs. Aaronson sprang
open the clasp.
"Ouch!" Emily shouted, feeling her bottom hole spread and stretched
open. At the same time she felt something bang against the back and
insides of her thighs. It was the butt bauble, hanging down from her ass!
It made a jingling sound, announcing to all the world that Emily's asshole
was open. Emily felt a small amount of gas escape from her bottom. Mrs.
Aaronson waved her hand across her nose.
"I think I just smelled the remains of your dinner," Mrs. Aaronson
said to Emily.
"Ohhh, what if I have to go to the bathroom?" Emily asked in a
frantic voice, hearing the butt bauble jangle as she stood erect once more.
"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," Mrs. Aaronson said to
Emily. "You can still pee, of course."
"Yes," Emily admitted, looking down at her belly and her pubic hairs
beyond, feeling the butt bauble bang with with a tinkling sound against the
backs of her thighs.
"Do you have to poop right now?" Mrs. Aaronson asked Emily.
"No," Emily said.
"Good. Then lets get the food out of the oven and have you serve it to
the men," Mrs. Aaronson told Emily. She handed the girl some oven mitts.
With her butt bauble tinkling behind her, Emily opened the oven and took
out little cooked bits of chicken. These were put on crackers, by herself
and Mrs. Aaronson. Mr. Aaronson had slipped away, and as Emily heard
laughter coming from the parlor she blushed. The old man, no doubt, was
telling the men about Emily's bottom!
When the chicken was parceled out to a trayful of crackers, and
layered with bits of cheese and pickles and peppers and olives, Mrs.
Aaronson told Emily to take the tray out to the men in the parlor. "You
look lovely, darling. Now it's time for you to make your grand entrance,"
Mrs. Aaronson told Emily. "Don't worry. I'll be right behind you," she
added. To Emily's surprise, she opened a cabinet and took out a small
leather whip. And then she took out one more thing, a thin black leather
collar. It had long spiked studs on it. Looking at it, Emily gasped. Mrs.
Aaronson told the girl to hold still while she tied the collar around Emily's
neck.
"What- what is this?" Emily asked.
"It's a bondage collar," Mrs. Aaronson told Emily. "I wasn't sure if I
should put it on you but, seeing how sexy you are, I think it's only
appropriate. I call it a blow-job insurance collar, meaning, the men will
think twice before trying to shove their long hungry cocks in your mouth.
The points aren't quite as sharp as they look. Feel," Mrs. Aaronson said.
She took one of Emily's small hands in her own and lifted it up to one of
the points on Emily's collar. Indeed, though being pointed at the tip, the
stud Emily felt wasn't razor sharp. It had a slight blunt to it, but a man
looking at her might not know that.
"Thank you," Emily breathed, her breasts joggling nakedly as she
spoke, the butt bauble down below giving a slight tinkle.
"Would you feel safer if I attached a leash to it, so the men know you
belong to me and not them?" Mrs. Aaronson asked Emily.
"Okay," Emily gasped, after thinking about it a moment. Mrs.
Aaronson got a leather leash out of the kitchen cabinet. She buckled it
onto Emily's collar. Then, standing behind Emily, holding the end of the
leash, she gave the girl a light crack on her bottom with the whip. "Ouch!"
Emily cried. Her long golden hair whisked on her back as she turned her
head abruptly and looked back at the young wife who'd struck her.
"Proceed," Mrs. Aaronson told Emily. The girl saw a glimmer of
mirth in the young wife's eyes. Emily gulped. She turned back around and,
with her bare hands, she picked up the tray with the condiment-laden
crackers on it. There were at least two dozen crackers, plenty for every
man. Emily took a step in her high heels. She nearly lost her balance! A
cracker dropped off her tray as the tray wobbled in her hands.
"Bertie!" Mrs. Aaronson called. To Emily's dismay and surprise, the
woman's old geezer husband appeared. He clapped a liver-spotted hand to
the snowy white right cheek of Emily's naked behind. Emily shivered. But
much as she disliked the hand, a finger of which quickly intruded into the
crack of her bottom, it kept her steady in her high heels. Emily took a step
forward again. The tray of crackers shook in her hand but she managed to
keep it level this time. Into the living room they went, and what a sight
they were! The four men who were guests at the house gasped when the
saw the trio. Emily, hidden behind her mask, her only substantial covering
her long golden hair which both Mrs. Brown and now Mrs. Aaronson had
brushed to a coin-bright lustre. And beside Emily, naked except for her
black stockings and heels, her spiked collar showing her utter submission,
was Mr. Aaronson. The men laughed as they followed his hand down past
the girl's waist and located the sound of the tinkling bell that they heard.
Between Emily's stockinged legs, in the space that came and went as she
walked, glimpses of the butt bauble could be seen! For a moment the men
seemed to think the item was hung from the lips of Emily's cunt, but as
Emily approached, and they gazed more closely, they saw that the
decoration was indeed hung from behind, banging and jangling against the
backs and insides of her thighs. The men laughed; this was the little item
Mr. Aaronson had told them about, and by God he hadn't been lying! Emily
stopped in front of the men. For a moment she felt a tinge of unexpected
jealousy, for much as the men had obviously admired her, their eyes were
now slipping one by one over to Mr. Aaronson's wife. The woman was more
astonishing than ever, holding the leather leash that connected to Emily's
collar. Like Emily, she wore spiked black shoes and long silky black
stockings. Despite her skirt, her panties could be seen, and right where it
counted, in between her pretty black-sheathed legs. The contrast between
black silk and white cotton panty was intoxicating. When the men got
their fill of Mrs. Aaronson's pussy, their eyes lifted. Her jacket was now
unbuttoned, completely, and within it her blouse was open to the fifth
button. The men gasped as Mrs. Aaronson came forward, still holding
Emily's leash, and made a pretense of putting a shifting a magazine on the
low coffee table in front of the men where the tray of condiments would
be put down. As the young wife bent, the inevitable happened. Her bra-
less breasts slipped by their very weight out of her nearly unbuttoned
blouse. The men found themselves staring at two very lovely, trembling
naked white tits, surmounted by pretty pink teats that looked ripe for
milking.
"Dear, you're coming apart," Mr. Aaronson said with some disapproval
to his wife.
"Indeed I am," Mrs. Aaronson answered. But she made no effort to
repair herself. Instead she went round the table and presented herself to
the nearest man on the couch. "Sir, do you think my dress is too short?"
Mrs. Aaronson asked the man.
"No, not at all," the man answered.
"But I believe you can see my panties," Mrs. Aaronson said. She
thrust her hips forward, making Emily swallow hard as she realized,
however naked she was, she would always be playing second to such a
lovely and forward woman. "You were looking down at them when I first
answered the door this evening, and now you're looking at my panties
again," Mrs. Aaronson said with mock anger to the man, the three other
guests, also sitting with him on the couch, now all leaning toward him to
get a better and closer view of the wife's pantied crotch. "Is something
wrong with my panties?" Mrs. Aaronson asked.
"N-No," the man said.
"Well I don't like having them always stared at," Mrs. Aaronson said.
And then, standing right there in front of her husband, she added, "If they
interest you so much, sir, why don't you have them? Take them off me and
put them in your coat pocket or something." The man looked up at Mrs.
Aaronson. He was young, college age, and obviously unsure of himself in
such a suddenly sexually charged atmosphere. The other three men, one of
whom was his age but two of whom were a few years older, visibly longed
to be in his place.
"Take them," one of the older men whispered to the young college age
boy. With trembling hands the young man reached out to the young wife's
hips. Mr. Aaronson cleared his throat, to no avail. The young man reached
under Mrs. Aaronson's micro-mini, as Emily gulped again, realizing that for
all her display none of the gorgeous hunks was looking at her at the
moment. If a quiz had been taken right then, she was sure they would have
come up as having forgotten her completely.
"Oh my!" Mrs. Aaronson gasped, feeling the air of the room touch her
pussy as the young man pulled her panties down her silk-stockinged
thighs.
"Mmmm," the young man breathed, and it was simultaneously hummed
by the other three men, all of them fixated now on the lovely dark bush
that presented itself indiscreetly beneath the hem of Mrs. Aaronson's too
short skirt. The young man pulled Mrs. Aaronson's panties down the rest of
the way, savoring the chance to feel her long lovely stockinged legs as he
denuded her of her undies. When he reached her shoes, Mrs. Aaronson
stepped as daintily as she could out of her underthings. The young man
lifted the white panties up to his nose and sniffed. Then, spurred by the
other young men present, he passed Mrs. Aaronson's panties to them. Each
one in turn took a sniff. Emily thought for a moment she was back in
elementary school, watching boys pass around Scratch n' Sniff stickers.
When the panties had been returned to the youngest man on the right
of the couch, he took out a handkerchief from his coat's breast pocket.
Sheepishly he passed the handkerchief to Mrs. Aaronson, as if the thing
could in fact be of use to the woman in covering up her pussy, which it
obviously couldn't. But Mrs. Aaronson smiled and accepted the gift. Then
the young man placed her panties in his breast pocket, letting part of her
panties stick out as if they were some sort of rose.
"What a nice thought. I'm so glad we're not out in public," Mrs.
Aaronson smiled sardonically.
"We're not, yet.. but at the end of the night I'll wear them home, just
like this," the young man promised Mrs. Aaronson.
"And will you tell everyone you meet whose panties you've got
sticking out of your breast pocket?" Mrs. Aaronson asked.
"Yes. Mine, naturally," the young man answered. The other young men
laughed. Even Emily giggled a little. Mr. Aaronson cleared his throat
again. This brought the attention of everyone this time, and all eyes
turned toward him.
"I expect you gentlemen can provide some sort of compensation for
depriving my wife of her panties?" the old man asked, his hand still placed
on Emily's bottom and making the girl cry out now as he found her sprung
open bottom hole with his errant finger. There was more laughter, as
everyone watched Emily nearly drop the tray again in her distress, and
then Mrs. Aaronson said,
"Of course they will compensate, dear," Mrs. Aaronson said. She
looked at her four guests. "Bill, Joe, Mike, Stan," she said, addressing the
men from right to left, from the man who had taken her panties off the the
oldest one on the left, "I want you to undo your flies. Take your penises
out! If I can show my pussy, you four can certainly show your cocks!
Emily watched as the men quickly unzipped themselves. She noticed that
despite Mr. Aaronson's finger in her anus, he watched with at least as
much interest as her. The four men popped out, the older two getting
themselves undone more quickly than the somewhat bashful younger two.
Emily gasped as she saw four imposing cocks spring into view. Mrs.
Aaronson, still holding Emily's leash, smiled and nodded. Emily didn't
know it, but with Mr. Aaronson's approval she had previously blow-jobbed
15 different young men in various clubs, looking for four with the finest
dicks. These were the ones now displaying themselves before Emily's
eyes, and the young girl felt her heart race as she realized that none of the
men were an inch under ten in length; indeed, two of them, one younger and
one older, looked footlong!
"Such delicious looking hot dogs, don't you think Emily?" Mrs.
Aaronson asked. Emily blushed as she felt all four men's eyes once again
remember her. With their penises out, their stares were more lascivious
than ever. "Please serve each of the men some crackers, Emily," Mrs.
Aaronson told the girl. "I'll see to the wine."
There was a wet bar in the living room. The men had already been
imbibing, courtesy of Mr. Aaronson, and now Mrs. Aaronson took their
glasses, two at a time, and refilled them at the wet bar. Emily,
meanwhile, put the tray down on the coffee table and then gave a cracker
to each of the men. It was rather annoying moving between them and their
side of the table, for as Emily walked in between, the men's knees and
each cock banged or wiggled against Emily's stockinged calves.
"Oh! Oh my," Emily said, serving each man, which Mrs. Aaronson,
getting the wine, required her to do. "Much will be asked of the men this
evening, Emily. I don't want them needlessly exerting themselves on
things that we can so easily do for them," the young wife told Emily as she
went to the wet bar. So instead of leaning down for crackers, as any of
the men could have easily done, Emily was forced to work inbetween them
and the table, bothered by their penises which left wet stains on her
stockings whenever she was bumped by them. And that was not the end of
Emily's troubles. As she worked inbetween the men and the table, the four
men reached out and played with her butt bauble. It seemed irresistible to
them. They increased its tinkling sound by hitting it with their fingers;
the only relief Emily could find in the matter was that Mr. Aaronson had
taken his own finger out of her anus and retreated to a chair. However
when Emily had served each of the men, Mrs. Aaronson told the girl not to
forget her husband. With trepidation Emily took a cracker and went to the
man. Just as she reached him he gave her a disapproving look.
"One cracker?" Mr. Aaronson asked the girl. Emily blinked and looked
blank. Then she said,
"That's- that's what I gave the other men."
"Do you think I'm trying to be a miser? That I can't afford to give my
guests more than one cracker?" Mr. Aaronson asked Emily. Again the girl
looked blank. In the background she heard Mrs. Aaronson, who had returned
from the wet bar, giggling as she served the men their refills of wine.
"Get over my knees, you naughty young thing!" Mr. Aaronson told Emily. He
reached out and grabbed the girl's wrist. Emily tried to draw back but the
old lizard showed surprising strength; a moment later 15-year-old Emily
found herself lying facedown over the old man's lap!
Whack! Whack! Whack! Without so much as a moment to let her get
her composure, the old man began whaling Emily's bare behind with his
hand. Emily let out a scream; it was utterly humiliating to be spanked like
a little child in front of the four hunky guests! She heard laughter; her
own lungs were preoccupied with hollering as the old man gave her a
spanking unlike anything she'd felt since she was six. Emily's breasts,
hanging down beyond Mr. Aaronson's right thigh, wiggled and leapt with
fleshy abandon. Her head twisted in screamy denial, making her long
golden locks toss again and again across her back. And worst of all, above
her sexily stockinged thighs, her white bottom began turning bright pink!
To Emily's dismay, the butt bauble, hanging down from its clasp, banged
its girth inbetween her legs against her cunt. So Emily, despite the pain
in her behind from Mr. Aaronson's rapidly moving hand, found herself, to
her blushing surprise, feeling aroused even as she screamed from the
spanking.
Bang! Bang! Bang! went the butt bauble against Emily's slit, all the
while that Mr. Aaronson was making her bottom glow red. Emily at last
got the idea of closing her thighs, her legs kicking up and down all the
while, but at once Mr. Aaronson, seeing what she was doing, hit her harder
and ordered her to spread her legs wide.
"Wider! Wider!" Mr. Aaronson yelled. And so Emily found herself
feeling like some floundering fish, hearing laughter behind her as with
splayed and kicking legs she suffered the rest of the spanking.
At last, gasping, Emily was allowed to stand up. To her
mortification, she was wet between her legs. Where she had asked Mrs.
Aaronson to brush her, provoking a polite refusal, she had now been hit
repeatedly by the bauble hanging between her legs. She felt all tingly
down in her slit, and her arousal increased despite her flaming bottom,
and her hands which flew to it and clutched it, when Mrs. Aaronson told
the wincing girl to come over and suck the men's dicks.
"They must be apologized to for only getting one cracker," Mrs.
Aaronson told Emily. The girl came over and, at the young wife's
insistence, knelt down before the oldest man who sat on the extreme left
of the couch. From the right, the college age boy watched with cock-
trembling interest. Glad now of her spiked collar, which made the oldest
man of the four shiver as Emily put her lips to him, Emily began to suck.
"Must she wear that collar?" the oldest of the four guests asked Mrs.
Aaronson.
"Yes. It's insurance, to make sure you men behave and don't try to
take advantage of her," the young wife said. Then, copying Emily, she got
down on her knees. In a mirror against the far wall the young men could
see Mrs. Aaronson's miniskirt rise up over her ass, due to her posture.
With her bared bottom showing, the young woman put Bob's penis into her
mouth. The youngest of the four men gasped, feeling himself sucked upon.
At the left end of the couch Emily was working the oldest of the four
guests. Inbetween the two young men waited with tremblingly exposed
dicks; they could not stand the pressure of the wait and, with Mr. Aaronson
eyeing them greedily from his chair, they both began to masturbate
themselves.
Mrs. Aaronson popped the youngest of the four out of her mouth.
Holding Bill's penis twixt two fingers, promising with her touch that she
would give him more, she addressed the four men, even the one on the
extreme left who was groaning now as he felt the under-age Emily suck
his dick.
"Gentlemen, there are a few ground rules we must cover," Mrs.
Aaronson said to the men, as casually as if she might have been at a card
game, explaining the rules of bridge. "First, I have high expectations of
you this evening. To meet my expectations, not to mention those of my
husband, you must remain hard, which means you cannot spend. I want
your fine cocks perpetually hard; however, there is a compensation.
Whenever you wish to pee, you may do so, and as freely and openly as you
desire. Here of course, to protect the carpet, a container will be provided
by myself or Emily for you to pee into. But you will find that in other
places, such as outdoors in the back yard or in the sauna, you may simply
start wetting whenever you like, pissing right where you please."
"Can we piss on you?" one of the men who was masturbating himself
asked, and took a stab at aiming himself at the woman.
"You may piss however it pleases you, but not in this room because
our carpet is too expensive to replace every time we have company," Mrs.
Aaronson smiled.
"God damn! Take this collar off this bitch!" the oldest of the guests,
on the left, demanded. He was clearly eager to get himself more fully into
Emily, but feared the girl might gag and lose him and he might stab
himself on her spikes.
"That is why Emily has the collar, dear," Mrs. Aaronson said to the
man. "She is just a little girl. I knew you'd want to deep throat her and
while I can stand such punishment, she cannot. You will have to let her
determine the pace and depth of your insertion into her mouth."
"God, it's like being sucked by some incompetent little girl," the man
groused, though he grimaced a second later because, for all her
inexperience, Emily's wet little mouth was bringing him dangerously close
to spending.
"She must be trained, and that requires slowness and patience," Mrs.
Aaronson told the man at the left end of the couch, while continuing to
hold the man on the extreme right. "Her collar enforces your patience.
Don't worry. I will be at you soon and then you can feel the depths of my
throat. Without spending, of course," Mrs. Aaronson reminded him. Then
she tossed back her long black hair, to get it out of the way, and proceeded
to deep throat Bill at the right end of the couch, nearly making him cum.
She looked up from her computer screen. How long had she been
reading this story? Another early morning search of the web to finish her
homework had wound up as a time-wasting activity on some irrelevant
site. Still, the story was rather curious. She gazed out the window over
the red martian sand, watching the horizon blush to the color of sand in
the east. The sun was rising. Her wristphone beeped. She looked down at
it. It was six a.m. precisely. She read the day and the month and the year
underneath, reflexively: Tuesday, Bush, 51 A.F. The day was a name
borrowed from earth, the month was named after former U.S. President
George W. Bush, who got the manned Mars program going again, and the 51
A.F. was for 51 "After Foot," meaning 51 years since the first human set
foot on Mars. She had just learned all that, in school, especially about the
meaning of A.F. and B.F., "After Foot" and "Before Foot." She wondered
what she would be like when she was 15, like the character in the story
she was reading. Then she remembered that the girl's age was of course
an Earth age, measured in Earth years. Her own age was measured in
Martian years, just like the time on her watch, 51 Mars years since the
humans first set foot here.
She was 10 Mars years old. She wondered how that would translate
into Earth years. Earth was closer to the sun and went around it faster,
so... she lost track of the math. She pressed on her wristphone. A moment
later a voice spoke out of it. Quickly she turned down the volume. She
didn't want her mother to hear.
"Did you get the answers in Social Studies?" she asked the voice on
her watch.
"Huh?" The voice sounded groggy. "No," her friend said a moment
later. There was a pause. Then, "What are you doing? her friend Mary
asked. "I'm still asleep!"
"I'm trying to get my Social Studies done," Claire told her friend.
"Who was U.S. President after... um... Bush? George W. Bush?"
"How should I know?" the groggy voice answered.
"It's due today!" Claire told her.
"Oh," Mary's voice said. It became more awake. "Maybe we should
call Sue," it said.
"She did hers last night and has her wristphone turned off and is
still asleep," Claire told her watch. "I'm sure of it."
"Oh," the still-groggy voice said again. "How about Clinton?" Mary
asked after a moment. "I think it was Clinton. As if it fucking matters."
"Okay, I'll put Clinton," Claire said. She pressed her finger to the
computer screen. The text of the story vanished. Then she picked up a
stylus and wrote across the screen, as a view of her homework
assignment appeared. "Clinton," she wrote in answer to a typewritten
question. Then, studying the screen more closely, specifically the answer
two lines above, she said into her watch, "No! It couldn't be Clinton. He
was president before Bush." For a moment the watch did not respond.
Then Mary said,
"That's it! It's Bush, Clinton, Bush, Clinton! Now I remember. Bush
the father, then Bill who had sex with that girl, then Bush the son, then
Bill's wife, who he'd divorced by the time she became president!" Claire
smiled. There was no doubt in her mind that her friend was correct. "I
wish all the answers were like that, for all the U.S. presidents," Claire
said.
"Yes. It would make it much easier," Mary answered. Confident that
she could easily finish the rest of her homework before school, Claire
pressed her finger to her computer screen again. The text of the story
appeared once more, the one about the 15 Earth years old Earth girl.
"Thanks," Claire spoke into her watch.
"Sure. No problem. I'm going back to sleep," Mary answered. Claire
pressed her finger to her computer screen again and the text of the story
reappeared:
Mrs. Aaronson felt Bill's thing in her mouth suddenly lurch, like a
snake being wakened from a deep freeze. The rock hard stiffness of his
prick flexed. Quickly she drew him from the confines of her throat, then
from her mouth, her silky wet lips stroking his penis as she pulled him
out. With a flick, her tongue laved the crown of his thing as it left,
feeling its ridge, touching his pee hole. Suddenly a geyser tore from the
hole, which opened wide, like a snake eye, to emit it. Mrs. Aaronson tried
to dodge the spray. It was no use. He splashed into her eyes, he flooded
her cheeks. Mrs. Aaronson gasped. In an attempt to control the mess she
aimed the spray at her lips and spread them wide. The discharge
hammered her tongue. She gulped quickly, working her throat as fast as
she could to try to get it all, to keep it off herself and her expensive
carpet. When Bill finished she kissed the tip of his prong, which was
already shrivelling in her grasp, her little fist seemingly bigger now upon
it.
"My, that was quite a torrent, sir," Mrs. Aaronson said to Bill. She
blinked rapidly, then let go of him. "Of course you will have to be
dismissed. But I admire your enthusiasm. Perhaps we will meet again to
train that thing of yours so it won't make quite such a mess." Mrs.
Aaronson moved on her knees to the next man, Joe, who sat on the couch
with his legs spread and his own penis still erect. She took hold of him.
As she did she looked to her right. Mr. Aaronson had moved to the end of
the couch and was urging the young man who had lost himself to rise, to
zip himself up, to leave.
"I could probably get hard again in a matter of minutes," Bill said to
Mr. Aaronson.
"It is a rule of the house," Mr. Aaronson answered. Mrs. Aaronson
flicked her eyes up to the face of the new man whose prick she now held in
her hands. Kneeling before him, seemingly a supplicant to his massive
cock, she said, in a high girlish voice, noticing that he was drooling down
onto her breasts,
"Don't drip too much, or I'll kick you out too." Then she downed him,
in one practised swallow. Joe croaked with pleasure at finding himself
suddenly within her throat, her tongue playing over the nearer end of his
shaft as his farther extremity plumbed her tight depths. Her throat was
sperm soaked now, oily from Bill's discharge. Mrs. Aaronson worked Joe
up and down in her throat like a reluctant sword swallower, the blade in
her neck but unwilling to plunge it down to her stomach.
"Oh God!" the third man, Mike, his cock waiting its turn, gasped. He
watched as Joe twisted his hips beside him, barely able to stand the
pleasure of this practised young wife's deep throating. Meanwhile the man
beside Mike, Stan, the oldest of the three, was still being licked by Emily.
What she lacked in skill she made up for in enthusiasm. She traced the
veins of Stan's big prick with the tip of her tongue, her curiosity evident
in her gaze, her hands both holding him at the root of himself like a little
girl clasping a glass of milk.
"I really think I could get hard again pretty soon," the youngest man,
now being escorted from the room by Mr. Aaronson, protested.
"I'm sure you'll be invited again," Mr. Aaronson smiled. He had his
hand in the small of the young man's back, and he seemed to be admiring
his broad shoulders as he moved him toward the door. Suddenly his hand
went lower, and Bill yelped as he felt the pressure of the ancient man's
palm on his trousered behind. "There is one way you could remain and
perhaps rejoin the festivities later," Mr. Aaronson suggested. Emily
yelped as Stan tried to force himself into her mouth again, testy that she
could not take him like Mrs. Aaronson could.
"Wh- what way is that?" Bill asked Mr. Aaronson. The party going on
by the couch was exciting in the extreme. He hated to leave it.
"If you will place yourself in my hands, doing exactly as I require, I
will see to it that you get to fuck my wife. And the new girl too, the
little visitor, what is her name?"
"Emily?" Bill asked, not sure himself, though he was at that very
moment admiring her near-naked figure.
"Yes. Emily," Mr. Aaronson said. "You will get to fuck them both,
even if you have to rest inbetween. But to obtain that pleasure you must
agree to spend time with me." Mr. Aaronson squeezed the young man's
small tight behind. He left no doubt in Bill's mind where his thoughts
were going.
"You mean, gay sex?" Bill gasped.
"I prefer not to call it that," Mr. Aaronson said. He could tell Bill had
never even thought of having a gay encounter before. Those were exactly
the sort of boys Mr. Aaronson liked. "Let's go upstairs," Mr. Aaronson said,
focussing on the young man's right cheek through the cloth of his pants and
giving it another squeeze.
"Upstairs?" Bill asked, lost in a perplexion of shame and desire.
Emily shrieked by the couch as Stan now put himself into her mouth,
despite her reluctance. "What- what for?" Bill asked.
"Why, if you're going to be staying, I need to put you in the guest
bedroom," Mr. Aaronson said. He felt with his other hand the front of the
young man's pants, feeling the boy begin to grow hard again at the thought
of such forbidden things. "Come. Let's get you upstairs and undressed.
You must be tired after having such a torrential discharge."
"No. Really, I'm quite alright," Bill said.
"Do you wish to stay?" Mr. Aaronson said.
"Yes. I--" Bill answered, growing even harder under the pressure of
Mr. Aaronson's hand on his crotch and behind.
"Then let's upstairs," Mr. Aaronson said. "We'll rejoin the others
after you and I have had a little rest." And so Bill, confused as ever as to
what his actions should be, let Mr. Aaronson guide him to the stairs of his
home, and they went up together, Mr. Aaronson letting go of the front of
the boy's trousers but keeping his other hand firmly on his ass.
Drawing Joe from her mouth, Mrs. Aaronson moved to Joe, the third
and final man. Beside him Stan was working himself into Emily's throat.
The girl gagged in protest but Mrs. Aaronson, sensing that she had to learn
sometime, did not interfere. Looking up at Mike she asked, through sperm-
laden eyelashes,
"Ready?"
"Yes," Mike gasped. His cock trembled in her small fist as she put
him to her lips. She kissed him, Bill's sperm and Joe's precum wetting the
tip of him, mingling with what he himself was emitting from his pee hole,
the clear fluid that precurses an ejaculation. Mrs. Aaronson sucked Mike
into her mouth. She worked her cheeks, looking up at him with her big
dark almond-sized eyes. He smiled down at her, his teeth chattering
slightly, desperate not to share the fate of Bill who could now be heard on
the stairs with Mr. Aaronson, saying, "Do you really mean to put yourself
in my ass, sir?" The thought of the danger Mike faced, of cumming and
having to join Mr. Aaronson in the bedroom upstairs, or leave, added to
Mike's tension. Mrs. Aaronson felt it all along the length of his cock. She
smiled a little. Beside her Emily was silenced by Stan's thing deep down
in her throat, her breath exploding in small puffs of protest through her
pretty nose.
"I think we should all have a sauna," Mrs. Aaronson said a minute or
so later, when she had let Mike plumb down into the deepest depths of her
throat. She held him gently now, now wanting to add to the mess already
on her face from Bill's accident. Beside Mike, sitting with his legs apart
and his still-erect thing hanging out, Joe stared hungrily. He obviously
felt inspired to grope himself with his hand, to bring his cock off, but he
knew what would happen if he did: Bill would have company upstairs. So
he sat rubbing his thighs, as Stan, finally on the brink from his forcing of
Emily's throat, suddenly pulled himself free of the girl child's mouth.
"Whew!" Stan gasped. Emily gasped too, but entirely from relief that
she could breathe again.
"Would you like me to suck you?" Mrs. Aaronson asked Stan, holding
Mike's still stiff prick in her hand.
"No. Not just now," Stan sighed. His big penis trembled. He gritted
his teeth and eased Emily's hands off the root of himself.
"I'd like us all to have a sauna," Mrs. Aaronson said.
"When do we get to fuck?" Stan asked.
"Oh, not for a long time yet," Mrs. Aaronson said. "I like to keep my
men very hard and ready for action. You'll probably see me fuck little
Emily here several times before I let you men lose those fine erections of
yours."
"What?" Emily asked, looking up from Stan, whose cock hovered
before her face like a rattler ready to pounce.
"Oh yes dear, you and I are going to fuck, no doubt about it," Mrs.
Aaronson smiled at Emily, kneeling beside her, her right hand holding
Mike's thing as her left crept over to Emily. She found the girl's nearest
hand and squeezed it.
"But-- but-- you don't have a penis!" Emily said, and, just to make
sure, leaned forward, her forehead bumping against the end of Stan's cock,
and gazed down between Mrs. Aaronson's legs at her bush. It was dark like
the hair that swept down from her head, and Emily, to her great relief,
saw that the little muff of hair was as useless for fucking as her own
blonde muff was.
"My husband and I have plenty of dildos. He's not always able to
satisfy me, you know," Mrs. Aaronson told Emily. She giggled. "And
sometimes he wants me to satisfy him," Mrs. Aaronson added, as Emily's
eyes widened in mortification. "But first we'll relax in the sauna," Mrs.
Aaronson said. She stood up. "Everyone take off your things, every last
stitch," she said. She smiled and reached back behind herself and unzipped
her too short skirt. Looking down at Emily she said, "Take off everything
except your collar. You must always wear that. It is a sign of your
status." Stan reached forward and unclipped Emily's leash. Then he helped
her to stand and rose up himself. He got her out of her things as quick as
he could, as Mike and Joe stood up and helped Mrs. Aaronson. In a few
minutes they were stark naked, Mrs. Aaronson stripped to her earrings
while Emily was naked except for her earrings and collar. The men were
completely naked, their cocks stiff in invitation as Mrs. Aaronson directed
them all to the sauna her husband and she owned. It was at the back of the
house, so that in the wintertime, after baking in the sauna, they might run
outside for a moment and cool themselves in the snow. Mrs. Aaronson
pinned up her hair, then opened the door to the sauna. A smell of wood
escaped into the hall. She ushered men, their cocks still erect, into the
dark room. She flicked on a light for them as they entered. Emily went
last, followed by Mrs. Aaronson. The young wife bolted the sauna door
shut from the inside once they were all in the pine-panelled room.
"Sit down," Mrs. Aaronson urged the men. She handed them each a
folded towel, taken from a pile of towels inside the sauna at the end of a
wooden bench. She told them to put the towel under their naked behinds.
"So you don't get any splinters," Mrs. Aaronson teased. The men sat down.
Each of them was aware of the fullness of their balls between their legs
as they sat, their scrotums dying to release their seed through their long
erect dicks. Little Emily, placing a hand over her muff, sat down on the
bare wood of the bench. Mrs. Aaronson hadn't given her a towel.
"No, Emily," Mrs. Aaronson told the girl. "I don't want you sitting
down. Not yet. I want you to kneel on the floor." Emily's eyes widened but
she obeyed. Thinking that she must be needed for her mouth again, and
giving a little grimace as she looked at the three men with their stiff
penises sitting on towels on the bench, she crouched down on the floor.
She settled her soft round white ass on her heels. Her hands slaked her
thighs, aware of the way her blonde muff was tingling up between her
legs, her whole figure trembling a little, like the big long cocks that the
men displayed with both enthusiasm and worry, afraid they might spill
themselves when the fetching young thing at their feet was put to them
again.
But Mrs. Aaronson didn't have another cock sucking in mind. Not just
yet. She told Emily to lift her bottom, to show it off by placing her
elbows on the floor in front of her knees. Emily, a puzzled look coming
over her, obeyed again, watching over her shoulder as her uplifted behind
drew the men's eyes to it, her small lovepouch nestled between the white
expanse of her trim white thighs, the backs of her thighs almost as
alluring as what she was offering above it, in the form of two supple
white cheeks with a wide crack between them. For Emily, being young, had
a bottom that opened in invitation when she got on her knees. A mature
woman's bottom would have bottom halves that touched, but a young girl
like Emily, sticking her ass in the air, stretched the taut halves so that
what lay between, the crack itself and its little back hole, opened wide.
Of course the hole itself remained like a little dimple, widening just a
little, it would have to be forced and stretched over time to become as
accessible as the men now staring down at Emily's ass would want it to
be. Mrs. Aaronson took down a paddle hanging from a peg on the wall. She
stroked it, feeling the smooth surface of it. Then she flicked a switch on
the side of a round wooden cabinet standing near the bench. Coals, atop
the cabinet, resting on a grill-like surface, began to heat.
"While the oven warms the room, I'm going to warm your bottom,
Emily," Mrs. Aaronson told the girl. "A good spank will serve to remind you
of your place here. That way when it's time to fuck, you won't protest.
Your stinging behind will cause you to remember that obedience is best."
Mrs. Aaronson smiled. She pulled a hair pin from her hair, then another,
and handed them to Emily, who straightened up to receive them. "I don't
want your hair to get in the way of your face when I spank you, Emily,"
Mrs. Aaronson told the girl. "It excites the men to see a girl crying and
screaming, especially if another woman causes it. Always we must
remember to keep the men entertained. I never allow my guests to have a
moment when they aren't on tenterhooks." Mrs. Aaronson looked at the
men. "I think you'll find this quite stimulating, gentlemen," the young wife
told them, as Emily, kneeling before them, pinned up her hair. "To keep you
from cumming, I have a suggestion to make. A command, in fact," Mrs.
Aaronson smiled. "I want each of you to grab the balls of the man next to
you. Don't be afraid," she told them. "It's not gay to do it if a woman
orders you to. Grab your friend's balls and pull down on them,
continuously, while I spank Emily. Joe, you grab Mike and Stan. Stan, you
grab Mike's balls. With your other hand I want you to toss water on the
stove when it needs it," Mrs. Aaronson told Stan. She pointed to a bucket
of water on the floor. A ladle was sitting in it, its handle projecting
upward out of the water like a slim stiff cock. The men grabbed each
other's balls as the young wife had ordered, after a moment's hesitation,
each one remarking at how full his neighbor's scrotum was. When Stan had
a good hold on Mike's balls, he lifted the ladle out of the bucket. Full and
dripping, he tossed its contents onto the coals atop the stove. There was
a quick sizzling sound, as of sperm being wasted on a hot summer
sidewalk. Then a cloud of steam rose up in the room, as Mrs. Aaronson
sized up Emily's bottom. The girl was on her knees and bent forward
again, displaying her white naked ass to the men's greedy eyes. Gently
Mrs. Aaronson touched her paddle to the surface of the girl's well-rounded
behind.
"This will hurt you more than it hurts me," Mrs. Aaronson laughed.
"But I don't want you to think of it as punishment. You've been very good
so far, with just a little fussing, which I hardly can complain about in a
girl of 15. Think of it as an experiment," the young wife told Emily as the
girl craned her neck back to see what the woman was doing to her ass.
She could feel the paddle moving gently back and forth across it, in slow
caressing strokes. But a moment later Mrs. Aaronson lifted the paddle
high. Emily blinked. Her hair pinned up so that everyone would be able to
see the effect the paddle had on her face, she waited. Then suddenly Mrs.
Aaronson brought the wooden object swinging down. It struck Emily,
squarely on her upraised bottom, and the girl, surprised, let out a howl.
Trying to cool her ass in the air after the paddle had stung it, Emily
rotated her bottom, squeezing and flexing the cheeks. The men followed
the alluring display of Emily's nether parts with their eyes. As they did
so, they pulled on each other's balls. But their intention with each other
was not as altruistic as Mrs. Aaronson had hoped. Wickedly, each one
squeezed the balls of the man next to him as erotically as he could,
hopping to make his friend spend while he himself stayed intact. Mrs.
Aaronson caressed the paddle with her hand; Emily had received one
stroke, she intended to give her quite a few more. She looked at Emily's
cheeks. A red hue had appeared on the whiteness of her flesh where the
paddle had connected. Emily, looking back once more after lifting and
twisting her head to let out a scream, eyed the paddle with trepidation.
"I want you to meet the challenge of the paddle, Emily," Mrs.
Aaronson told the girl. "Don't look so frightened of it. It's just a piece of
wood. You can take much more than this. I've had whips, canes, even a
chain once, although I admit that came close to breaking my hips. "Let me
see your eyes," Mrs. Aaronson told the girl. Emily lifted her gaze from the
paddle to Mrs. Aaronson's face. "Yes. Show me that you're willing to
accept the challenge," Mrs. Aaronson told the girl. "Lift your bottom
higher. Really display it; show it off. It's quite pretty. The men seem to
be in love with it. I'm not going to damage it too badly, just give it a
little color. Ready for the next stroke?"
"No," Emily said. Mrs. Aaronson laughed. "I think you are," she said
to the girl. "I can see it in your eyes."
"Eeeeyow!" Emily shouted, closing her eyes and launching her head up
high, stretching her neck, when the paddle came crashing down.
Desperately she squeezed and rotated her bottom. Stan, lifting the ladle
from the bucket again, threw more water on the oven, as with his other
hand he squeezed and fondled Mike's balls.
"Oh God, I think I'm going to cum!" Mike gasped, watching Emily's
torment as he clutched at both Stan and Joe, Stan's hand giving him as
good as it got, the two of them trying to urge the other to shoot first.
"Another one, Emily," Mrs. Aaronson warned the girl. She brought the
paddle down again, hitting Emily a third time. Emily screeched and made a
new display with her bottom, arching it higher than ever, after the paddle
had rebounded off it, tears now appearing on the cheeks of her face. Still
holding the paddle, Mrs. Aaronson took a step forward. She bent down, her
lovely breasts shuddering as she touched a finger to Emily's behind. The
girl flinched. Through tear-filled eyes she gaped backward at the woman
and then let out a frightened sigh as Mrs. Aaronson sought the well-
displayed lips of her cunt. "My, but you're becoming wet, Emily," Mrs.
Aaronson said, feeling the moisture that had oozed out of Emily's sex to
dampen and lubricate the lips of her pussy. Then, to the girl's even greater
surprise, the young wife lifted her cunt-wettened finger and touched
Emily between the well-spread cheeks of her ass. Her aim was direct and
without shame. She poked Emily right in her bottom hole! The girl gave a
shout; her slightly opened nether hole contracted in alarm. Unable to
actually penetrate the suddenly tightened hole, Mrs. Aaronson made Emily
wince by patting her reddened right cheek. "We will see to that foolishly
tight little hole of yours upstairs in the guest room," Mrs. Aaronson said
to Emily. "With luck I will shove something into you there even as my
husband gives Bill a fuck in the ass. How delightful it would be to do the
two of you together, my hubby fucking Bill as I open you." Mrs. Aaronson
took her finger away. Emily watched as the woman raised the paddle up
again; she bit her lower lip. The young wife looked into her eyes. She
smiled; but it was deceptive, for even as the smile spread over her lips
she brought the paddle down again.
"Yohoohoo!" Emily wailed. Her young bottom heaved and clenched
under the sting of the wood. It was awful, and yet it was as nothing
compared with the threat of the dark-haired woman to shove something up
into her guts. Emily felt a sudden wetness splash hotly across her
stinging behind. She looked up; had one of the men, unable to endure the
squeezing of his balls, suddenly spurted? To Emily's horror she traced a
stream of liquid upward to the penis it was coming from. It was Joe, who
was closest to her, and in his excitement he was suddenly peeing!
"How sweet of you, Joe. Perhaps it will cool down Emily's naughty
bottom," Mrs. Aaronson said to the young man. The look of alarm on Joe's
face softened. He had not intended, Emily realized, to let loose of his
bladder that way, it had just happened; perhaps as a last resort to avoid
losing the contents of his balls. But now, seeing that peeing would hold no
penalty, the other two men resolved to give themselves some relief. Both
of them stood up abruptly and, still holding each other by the balls, Stan
and Mike eagerly peed on Emily's upraised bottom. In fact they aimed for
the very spot Mrs. Aaronson had promised to violate; they placed their
streams squarely on Emily's bottom hole!
"Yeeek!" Emily howled. She was about to reach back with her hands
and try to defend herself, but Mrs. Aaronson ordered her not to.
"Stay just as you are, Emily, or you'll feel the paddle as never
before," Mrs. Aaronson warned the girl. So Emily, mortification showing in
her face, was forced to remain kneeling with her bottom displayed as the
men peed into her crack. This of course gave her reddened cheeks little
relief, save for what splashed inadvertently onto them, for the men's pee,
having hit her square on her bottom hole, ran down between her legs,
drenching her cunt and then the insides of her thighs. When the men had
finished Stan tossed another ladle of water onto the oven. Stream clouds
were filling the room now, making the air inside heavy with droplets of
water. Beads of sweat coated everyone's skin, but Mrs. Aaronson wasn't
ready to relax yet. She gave Emily another stroke of the paddle, the
hardest yet. The girl shouted; her bottom wiggled with pain. "I love two
things, Emily," Mrs. Aaronson said to the girl, as she waited for her
screams to subside and her ass to regain its poise. "Comfort, of which I
demand the very best, for myself and for my guests. And one other thing,
which some might regard as exclusive of the first; torture." This brought
Emily's head round again, and she stared with frightened rapture at her
hostess. "Yes, Emily," Mrs. Aaronson laughed. "I am as demanding in
regards to torture as I am in regards to comfort. But get up now. I will
make no further demands on your bottom at the moment." Mrs. Aaronson
hung the paddle back up on the peg on the wall. Emily rose and clutched
her bottom, wincing as she did so. Mrs. Aaronson, with a smirk, handed
Emily a folded towel. The girl placed it on the bench next to Joe and
gingerly sat down on it. Then Mrs. Aaronson turned and opened a metal
door in the wall of the sauna. It proved to be the door to a refrigerator.
The unit itself sat outside, rather like a room air conditioner sits beyond
the wall of house, only the front part projecting into the room it is
intended to cool. Mrs. Aaronson asked the men what beer they preferred.
Surprised, the men told her their favorites; Mrs. Aaronson passed out
bottles, opening them with a bottle opener that sat in the fridge. Emily
she gave a bottle of Seven-Up to. The girl drank it greedily. She was
thirsty from her exertions.
Drinking their beers, the men let go of each other's balls. There was
something unmanly about having a beer while holding the crotch of another
man. Mrs. Aaronson laughed but didn't scold the men for their newfound
embarrassment. Instead she got a frosted glass out of the fridge. It had
water in it, and she took a small packet containing unused Alka-Seltzer
tablets out of the fridge. Indeed there was much more than just the usual
items in the refrigerator. Emily, glancing up from her soda, saw condoms
and a bottle of lubricant. The fridge served as a kind of makeshift
cabinet, despite being chilled. Anything that might be needed, that was
small enough to fit, might be found inside it.
Mrs. Aaronson unwrapped the Alka-Seltzer tablets. There were two
of them, and she dropped them into the glass of water. There was a
fizzing sound. Emily saw bubbles rise rapidly in the glass. Suddenly the
young wife knelt down on the floor. She grabbed Stan's dick and, as the
young man shouted over his beer, she shoved his erect penis downward
into the glass.
"Yow!" Stan cried, for the effect of the bubbles rushing suddenly
upward all around his penis was electric. Not all of his lengthy shaft
could fit in the glass, but the part that could felt suddenly like spending.
Not only was the water ice cold, in contrast to the steamy heat of the
room, but the bubbles felt like they were trying to pry their way into his
pee hole.
Mrs. Aaronson held Stan in the glass until the bubbling of the Alka-
Seltzer tablets subsided. Then, without changing the water, she took two
more tablets from the fridge, unwrapped them, and dropped them into the
glass. With the contents of the glass suddenly bubbling as furiously as
ever, she moved to Mike. He felt his dick grabbed and submerged; the idea
that he was being put in the same water that had soaked Stan's penis
seemed to unnerve him.
"Hey, couldn't you at least have rinsed that glass out first?" Mike
asked Mrs. Aaronson.
"No, Mike, for if I asked you to all go skinny dipping in the pool you
would all be sharing the same water with your naked dicks," the young
wife answered. She smiled as she watched Mike brought to the brink of
spending by the bubbles. Then she pulled him free of the glass, and,
leaving him to drip on the floor, added two more tablets and moved to Joe.
"No, please!" Joe gasped. But in his cock went, directed and held
there by Mrs. Aaronson. He gritted his teeth with desire. It was clear that
the little bubbles, not to mention the thought of sharing the same water
that the other two men's penises had been in, was driving him crazy.
"Don't spurt," Mrs. Aaronson warned the young man. "If you do you'll
have to leave or join my husband upstairs."
Somehow, all three men survived the glass with its wicked bubbles.
But Mrs. Aaronson was just getting started. She opened the refrigerator
and took out a lipstick sized tube of Natural Ice. She applied it to all
three men's cocks in turn, laving the waxy substance over the skin of their
penises, leaving them in agony as the Ice turned to heat upon them, made
worse by the steam of the sauna. When the men had managed to endure
that trick, Mrs. Aaronson had one more. She emptied the glass that had the
used Alka-Seltzer in it onto the coals of the oven. Then she filled the
glass with ice chips from the freezer part of the refrigerator. The chips
were small enough in size, like snow, to allow a penis to be shoved down
in amongst them. Mrs. Aaronson started with Stan, and worked her way
slowly down the benchful of men. "Oh you poor guys," Mrs. Aaronson said,
with mock sympathy. Once more the three men nearly lost themselves.
But again, much to their surprise, they survived even this torment.
Perhaps it was the thought of having Mr. Aaronson's penis in their behinds
that kept them from losing themselves.
"The key to torture is to linger," Mrs. Aaronson said, when she had
finished plunging Mike's cock in and out of the glass with the ice chips.
She looked at Emily, sitting on the towel with her legs a little apart,
showing the wettened lips of her cunt. "Imagine being tied down over a
pillow, Emily, your bottom high, your cunt embarrassingly wet with your
excitement as a man with a big penis, perhaps several men, taught your
young bottom about shitting. Have you ever shitted with your ass stuck up
high, as if for the whip?" the young wife asked Emily. The girl shook her
head 'no'. Obviously she hadn't. Who would ever think of pooping anyplace
but in the privacy of a toilet bowl, her surprised eyes seemed to say. "Ah,
Emily, you have much to learn," Mrs. Aaronson told the girl. "And to think
if you hadn't met me, you might never have learned about all the erotic
possibilities of a well-displayed ass."
Claire looked up from her computer screen. The sun floated red on
the horizon, the view of it safely dimmed by a darkening of her window
glass.
"Tch. This is a howwible stowy," Claire said, mangling her words as
she spoke them in sudden ire. "To think that she's going to be made to go
to the bathroom for the enjoyment of wicked men and their boners!" By
some grand coincidence, her twin brother, in his own bedroom, was
reading the exact same story and was at the same place in it.
"Oh man!" the boy said, rubbing his dick under his bedcovers as he
read about Mrs. Aaronson's proposed torments for Emily. "I'll bet she jams
some fluid up her ass! And then as Emily squeezes to try to hold it in, the
lady makes one of the guys fuck her! Imagine how tight she'll be,
struggling not to make a mess with her bottom!"
"Tommeee!" the boy's mother called out. The shock of hearing his
mother's voice caused the boy to lose control of himself. Spurrrt, went
his sperm, all along the length of his thighs.
"Oh shit!" Tommy yelled. His mother knocked on his bedroom door.
"Tommy, did I hear you use a swear word? What are you doing in there?"
"Nothing, mother, just finishing my homework!" Tommy yelled.
Claire, ensconced in her own bedroom, knew she should begin getting ready
for school. But the horrific nature of the story had mesmerized her. She
had to read just a little more. She hoped it would be about the torments
the men suffered, and not anything involving the girl who was almost her
own age. She looked again at the screen.
Mrs. Aaronson wasn't finished with her paddle. She took it down
again from its peg on the wall. She ladled more water from the bucket
onto the coals on the stove, holding her paddle all the while, the men and
Emily all looking at it, wondering who would be made to suffer upon it
next. But Mrs. Aaronson had a surprise in store for them. As the steam
rose from the coals, she placed her paddle under Stan's penis. She held it
there, and Emily had to giggle, looking at it, for it looked like some big
sausage at the supermarket waiting to be cut with a butcher's knife.
"Hold yourself upon my paddle while I get something, Stan," Mrs.
Aaronson told the man. Gingerly he held the wood under himself, as his
two companions wondered if their miraculously stiff cocks would be the
next to be so displayed. Mrs. Aaronson opened the refrigerator. She
opened the freezer section inside the refrigerator. From it she took a
knife. It was coated with ice crystals, but the blade was no less sharp for
being frozen. Mrs. Aaronson brought the knife down upon her paddle, point
first. Stan gasped and nearly dropped the paddle from himself, for the flat
wooden object, with the knife sticking into it, now looked dangerously
like a kitchen cutting board. And indeed it was, though not quite in the
way Stan feared. Drawing carefully with the ever-so-sharp knife, Mrs.
Aaronson began to trace an outline of Stan's penis.
"So you can be remembered by all my future visitors, including girls
like Emily who suffer the paddle on their bottom," Mrs. Aaronson said to
Stan. There was a wicked glow in her eyes as she continued her work. She
knew as well as Stan that the slightest slip would damage him forever,
indeed, given how tightly she was holding the knife, she might slice right
through him! But the sweat pouring off Stan's brow, as he now watched
the procedure continue, was nothing compared to what was dripping from
the brows of Mike and Joe. It didn't take a genius to see they would be
next. They waited, watching and praying that they would somehow survive
this latest of Mrs. Aaronson's tricks. Perhaps the only one who felt more
relaxed at this precise moment was Emily. Seeing Mrs. Aaronson get the
paddle again, she had been sure her already sore bottom would be made to
suffer its impact once more. But this was nothing, at least for her, with
her little cuntlips immune from the knife's mischief. Certainly in Arabia
she might have had to worry about clitorization, but this was America,
where women were liberated, and she doubted Mrs. Aaronson would want
to tease her little sweet bud when she had three large banana sized
penises to work on. Mrs. Aaronson watched as Stan trembled at the
repeated touch of her blade. It was ice cold in this hot steamy room.
Every touch not only threatened to cut Stan, the contrast between the
temperature of the room and the knife was dangerously close to making
him spurt. It was a strange combination of fear and pleasure, this little
knife game. When Mrs. Aaronson had traced a likeness of Stan's dick on the
surface of the paddle she moved the meat-cutter-like wood under the
penis of Mike.
"Hold it for me," Mrs. Aaronson instructed Mike. Then she proceeded
as before, and Mike could barely contain his fear and his pleasure as she
sliced along the length of his cock. At intervals now she added a new
twist. Bending low, so that her breasts brushed against Mike's hairy
thighs, Mrs. Aaronson blew with her lips on his penis. "Mmmm, you're so
big, Mike," Mrs. Aaronson complimented the man. "How could I ever let you
go without carving this permanent image of you on my paddle?"
Suddenly, Mike could take no more. He had survived being blow-
jobbed, he had endured the Alka-Seltzer and the Natural Ice and the real
ice. But something about being so close to permanent loss set him off, as
he said afterward. Seeing the knife so close, feeling it press against him,
he suddenly jetted across the end of the paddle and out beyond, splattering
Mrs. Aaronson's belly with his angled-up cock, pressed up by the pressure
of the board under him. He came and came, while Emily gasped and Mrs.
Aaronson stood and frowned at him. Finally when he was all finished, his
cock shrinking, the other men laughing, Mrs. Aaronson said,
"I'm afraid you'll have to go, since you've cum, dear Mike." Mike
looked aghast. He rolled his eyes and said, "I didn't know there would be
rules like this when I came here tonight," he protested. Stan frowned at
him.
"Dude, you knew the rules when you came, with your penis," he told
the man bluntly.
"But--" Mike said. Joe put his hand on the man's thigh.
"You must learn to control yourself," Joe said. A moment later a
scream came from his throat as the paddle, wet with Mike's sperm, was
tucked under his own penis. Quickly Mrs. Aaronson stabbed down the knife.
It landed a centimeter from Joe's manhood, and Joe, frightened yet excited
at the near brush with being made dickless, quivered. In trembling, his
organ shifted rightward slightly, across the sperm-wet wood, and bumped
the side of the knife.
"Here, hold it," Mrs. Aaronson said to Joe. She made him take hold of
the paddle with both his hands, holding it by the edges. Then she ordered
Emily to do the cutting. "I must escort Mike either upstairs or out of the
house, Emily," Mrs. Aaronson told the girl. "Since all your training is not
only to make you the perfect slave, but ultimately a domme, I want you to
slice an outline of Joe's dick in the wood."
"But she's never done this before-- have you?" Joe asked Emily, who
was staring wide-eyed at the quivering knife stuck next to Joe's dick in
the paddle.
"NO," Emily confessed.
"Be a man and allow her to learn," Mrs. Aaronson implored Joe. She
smiled. "After all, what have you got to lose?"
"My penis!" Joe nearly shouted. Mike, whose own cock was now a pale
deflated picture of its former self, shook haplessly between his legs as he
stood up.
"I'm sure you'll be hard again in no time, but rules are rules," Mrs.
Aaronson said to Mike. She leaned into him, stood on tiptoes, and kissed
him on the lips. With her stiff-nippled breasts brushing his chest, her
hand reached for his dick. She touched it, and immediately he began to
harden. Mrs. Aaronson smiled and pulled her lips away from Mike's. Gently
she stroked him until he was perfectly hard. Then, with Emily's tongue
stuck in the corner of her mouth as she cut an outline of Joe's dick into
the paddle, Mrs. Aaronson ordered Mike to cum. "You lasted a long time,
and I don't want you to leave here without a feeling of intimate pleasure,"
Mrs. Aaronson told the man. She walked to the refrigerator. She reached
into it and took out a bottle of oil. Slowly she squirted a stream of it all
over Mike's newly erected dick, until he was dripping on the floor. Then
she worked his cock, with free hand, still holding the bottle in her other
hand and adding squirts of oil at intervals. She focussed exclusively on
his manhood, little Emily still tracing Joe's cock with the knife. Stan
watched enviously, wishing his own penis was feeling the tremblings of
pleasure which now coursed, at Mrs. Aaronson's urging, up and down the
length of Mike's dick. Suddenly, as Emily rounded the head of Joe's penis
with her knife, Mike spurted. Mrs. Aaronson laughed and kept frigging him,
lifting him slightly so that his sperm splattered against the far wall of
the sauna.
"Oh, God!" Mike cried out, even as Stan cried also, one urgently losing
himself while it took all the other's effort to keep from masturbating.
Meanwhile Joe said "Oh God," more softly, Emily slicing down alongside
the opposite side of his penis. In a minute it was over. Mike's sperm ran
down the wall of the sauna as Emily looked up from her work, her design
finished. Mrs. Aaronson took Mike's hand. She led him from the sauna,
opening the door to let him out along with herself.
"You may play with the men but don't let them cum," Mrs. Aaronson
called over her shoulder to Emily. Then, reflecting a moment, she said,
"Why don't you three go out back to the pool? You can have a nice swim
there while you wait for me to return." And so they all exited the sauna,
leaving something of a mess behind, including the paddle with all three
men's penises traced into the wood, Stan and Joe's design finished, Mike's
interrupted by his premature cumming. Mrs. Aaronson took Mike back to
the living room, and helped him dress. Then she walked him to the front
door and kissed him goodnight. Mike stepped outside, and Mrs. Aaronson
closed the door behind him. Then she hurried to the back of the house, and
out into the backyard, where her two remaining male guests, and little
Emily, were splashing in the pool.
30
----------------------- Dreamgirls! -----------------------
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