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Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
PRIVATE PLACES
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Chapter Six
The lagoon was concealed from the sea. The water was like glass,
calm, its surface a mirror to the sky. Sam and Jill and I snorkeled along
its surface, enjoying the sun and the bathing water that caressed itself
over our backs, our legs, our upturned bottoms. SamÕs stiff prong stuck
down into the water, a promise of future pleasure for us girls, though I
know having such a hard-on must have been a double-edged sword for him,
for it seemed to throb painfully, desperately, between his legs. My clitty
buzzed just looking at it, yet we were saving him for later.
Jill and I had blow-jobbed him on the beach, kneeling before him,
worshipping him, yet not letting him come. Then, relieving him
completely of his trunks, weÕd taken off our own bikinis too. It was our
own private vacation together, just the three of us, a treat paid for my
Sam to celebrate Jill and me being tattooed.
We glided slowly through the water. I spotted two fish mating,
pointed them out to Jill. She caught SamÕs eye. We watched, silently, as
the fish did their business and then broke apart. Schools of pink fish and
yellow fish and striped fish flitted past, oblivious to us, looking for food
or to avoid being made food by some other species.
After a half-hour or so we paddled back toward shore. I admit IÕd
peed in the silent lagoon, and Sam had too, Jill and I watching as he did it.
And Jill, feeling a little guilty, since she was a staunch environmentalist,
had pissed also. Wearing just our fin feet we flapped up onto the beach. I
gazed at our little teensy bikinis lying carelessly on our beach towel.
They were so small, yet weÕd shucked them off, preferring our birthday
suits. Yet we were a little apprehensive about coming back to shore, for
we knew that there was little tolerance in this province of Brazil for nude
sunbathing. It had all happened within the month, part of a Ôclean up
BrazilÕ morality campaign, started by the Catholic church and signed-off
on by several powerful politicians, hoping people wouldnÕt notice their
own wrongdoing with regard to the public treasury. Hostess herself had
warned us about the campaign. SheÕd been a little nervous about even our
party at the restaurant, IÕd learnt. And now here we were, coming ashore,
obviously in violation of the new ordinance, but sure we couldnÕt be
caught, could we? Did the jungle have eyes? We hoped not. There was
nothing but lush foliage for miles around. And SamÕs jeep was parked
nearby. Nonetheless it was with some haste that we pulled off our
flippers and hurried up the beach to get back into our swimsuits.
ÒStop right there!Ó we heard suddenly. I turned, Jill turned, Sam did
also, all three of us looking over our shoulders, our white bottoms
betraying us. It was hostess! Or Ms. Lalique, as she preferred to call
herself, me bearing her own initial inside my puss. Four guards stood with
her, one of them much older, and I realized suddenly he was no guard, but
her husband.
ÒYes, this is my husband,Ó hostess said to us, confirming my worst
fears, for the man had a menacing look about him, uncompromising. And I
knew at once he must have been one of the corrupt politicians looking to
free himself from blame by signing onto the Ôclean up BrazilÕ campaign.
Sam looked particularly worried. His cock was sticking straight out in
front of him, and he had not only been swimming naked, he had been alone
with hostess a week before our dinner party together! I doubted the pain
heÕd felt on his ass after that meeting did little to assuage her husbandÕs
anger at having this man naked with his wife. And now he was naked still,
with Jill and I accompanying him. His eyes darted to hostess, but hers
only stared back coldly in response.
ÒIÕm afraid IÕm in a bit of trouble with my husband for having that
dinner party,Ó hostess told us, betraying not the least compassion for us.
ÒIn return, IÕve offered to save myself by helping him ferret out nudists
who are wilfully violating our new law.Ó Her eyes admired my figure,
JillÕs. Yet she did not show any sign of helping us win a reprieve from her
husband.
ÒYou are both in violation of the new law against indecent
exposure,Ó the governor told us. And I had no doubt that we were. WeÕd all
heard about the new law, just assumed weÕd never be caught, thatÕs all.
But weÕd chatted with hostess over the phone a few times since our dinner
together, Sam especially, still drawn to her somehow, and one of us,
obviously, had divulged our vacation plans to her. Well, it wasnÕt me, I
knew that! Jill quietly took my hand. I could feel her squeeze mine, knew
she was desperately afraid. She was looking to me to comfort her, but I
was visibly shivering! ÒThe penalty for indecent exposure is whipping, in
public,Ó the governor said, without the slightest trace of emotion, except
perhaps in his eyes, which gleaming like a wolfÕs.
We were made to turn around and face away from our captors. I
squeezed my bottom cheeks, thinking I might get slapped there. I couldnÕt
bear the thought of getting whipped! My arms were drawn roughly behind
me by one of the guards. He seemed to have no sympathy for my beauty, or
my youth. I dug my toes into the sand as he locked my wrists into a pair
of cold, iron handcuffs. They were heavy, not like lightweight police
handcuffs. Brazil couldnÕt afford such things. These were from many
years ago, from the time of chain gangs. I imagined a rebel Indian
princess might have worn them once, fighting the Spanish, losing finally,
being taken prisoner, never to see her beloved wild jungle lands again.
And beside me, struggling, was my prince, Sam. With such an
ordinary name, I shouldÕve known he wouldnÕt save me. He was cuffed,
seemed to accept his fate at last, as Ms. Lalique ran her nailed finger up
the crack between his asscheeks. His chest bulged out in front of him. His
lance-like penis stood hugely erect. It seemed to gorge itself upon the
air, pumping, pulsing, as behind Ms. Lalique tickled SamÕs hair in his
asscrack. I looked at him, my muff rudely displayed, my legs apart,
casually, but stiff because I was scared now, no longer just a little nudist
playing on the beach. My titties were upturned and jiggling heavily,
obscenely, in front of me, pushed out by my woefully cuffed hands. I
glanced at Jill. Her own breasts jutted forward as she was cuffed in turn.
ÒMarch!Ó Ms. Lalique ordered. I wanted to remain planted right where
I was, let me die here, but a sharp slap on my ass sent me tearfully
forward. On one side, JillÕs jiggling figure tromped along beside me, on
the other Sam manfully pressed forward, the governor voicing obscene
suggestions for SamÕs butthole while his cock pointed us toward our
captorÕs waiting van.
At least, IÕd hoped it would be a van. But as we passed from the
beach, through a leafy canopy, and finally onto a road, I found to my
gasping surprise that we were to be transported in a jeep! An ordinary,
top-down jeep, with no sides on it, like a young man might drive. Except
it was the governorÕs jeep, I realized, as he climbed in, his wife beside
him, and myself, Jill, and Sam were ordered into the back.
I found my bottom settling into wet leather. It had just started
drizzling, and the backseat of the jeep had already received a sprinkling.
At least the rainwater was cool against my slapped ass! Jill sat down on
one side of me, Sam on the other. The guards passed a rope over our
bellies. It was mercifully soft. The rope was tied off on either side of
the jeep so we wouldnÕt fall out, sitting there with our hands cuffed
behind us, utterly helpless. I looked down, saw a second rope lay coiled
neatly at our feet.
ÒStep into the loops of the rope on the floor. ItÕs for your own
safety,Ó Miss Lalique advised, leaning over the back of her seat and
looking at us. ÒDonÕt play the hero, Sam. I value your cock too much to see
you thrown out. Step in or youÕll be lost on the trip back.Ó Reluctantly,
Sam stepped into two loops provided for him, just as Jill and I did. Two
loops, for each of us, and the guard immediately pulled the rope taut and
bound us by our feet into the jeep.
The governor started the ignition as the guards retreated to a jeep
of their own, parked behind the governorÕs. I pulled my knees up, but they
could barely move, my feet were so well tied. I squirmed in my seat but
the rope across my belly held me in place.
VRRROOMM! Suddenly the governor threw the jeep forward, and
immediately into a spin. I saw himself and his wife tossed about in their
seats, realized they were wearing seatbelts. No ordinary soul could have
survived the jeepÕs turn-about otherwise. I looked up, behind me. The
jeep had a roll bar. I was thankful for that, but still didnÕt want to find
myself upside down in a recked jeep! How terrible to be hanging like that,
and have to be cut down, perhaps by primitive natives!
We rocketed off into the jungle. The governor drove like a 16-year-
old with a new license. The dirt road was uncomfortable. I saw him
grinning at us in the rear-view mirror, leering at my titties as they
bounced up and down with wild abandon, along with JillÕs. Poor Sam! Ms.
Lalique had a salacious view of his penis in her own side-mounted mirror
as it waggled furiously up and down, totally loose, utterly hard, with
every ass-jouncing jolt of the jeep. We flew through the foliage, a light
rain sprinkling us. Colorful birds and parrots and even monkeys went
scampering out of our way, deeper into the trees, as we flew in our 20th
century vehicle through this pristine, primal wilderness. Somewhere
behind us the guards strove to keep up. I knew now why we were so well
tied. It wasnÕt just for our safety. Without the guards, Sam might have
found a way to overpower the governor, except he was too heavily bound to
break free. I saw him working his wrists though, hoping, but it was futile.
He was no James Bond, just a stud with a big prick, unable to control even
it at the moment!
ÒDonÕt lose your load, Sam,Ó Ms. Lalique screamed back at him,
grinning, turning to admire him face-to-face. Under SamÕs cock I saw his
balls slapping the seat, heavy and full, desperate to cum. I knew this ride
wasnÕt helping any. Imagine having your testicles thudding upon the seat
like that! I suppose if he were empty it might not have been so bad. But
he was deliciously full, and watching his torment I felt dew between my
legs, in my gash, and knew it wasnÕt from the lightly falling rain.
ÒWill this make my breasts sag?Ó I asked Jill, turning to her. My
bosoms were flying about like water balloons.
ÒOh, I hope not!Ó Jill answered. We both had hard nipples, but our
boobies, firm as they were, simply flew like flapjacks under the torturous
ride, hitting our chins, our ribs down below, making us look ridiculous.
Our heinies bounced upon the seat with punishing force. Fortunately we
girls both had nicely-fleshed bottoms, though mine was a bit
Ôunderfatted,Õ you might say, compared to JillÕs, me being still so young.
Poor Sam, with his angular manÕs bottom, must have suffered most,
pounding up and down right on his hip bones.
I think we all breathed a sigh of relief, even hostess, as we pulled up
at last in front of a shrouded Incan temple. At first I couldnÕt believe that
this was hostess and the governorÕs house, but natives ran out and drew
back big wooden gates, letting us in, and I realized there must be some
kind of residence set up here, amidst the ancient stones and foliage.
The jeep rolled slowly through a square inside the temple walls.
Turning this way and that, I saw giant stonework rising around us, with
friezes of Indian gods cut into the flat stone walls. Vines grew up them,
offering hope of escape, perhaps, if only Sam could get us free. Behind us
the gates remained open to admit the guards.
I felt eyes upon me. From wooden huts scattered about the square
people began to emerge. Not just those at the gates, but more, just to
look, just to watch us drive in. I felt a rising sense of shame as clothed
Indians stared at my nudity. Old men, old women, tut-tutting to one
another. And young men too, like those at the gate, evaluating Sam and his
penis, staring at me and Jill. There were pregnant Indian women too, in
fact most of the young women seemed pregnant. Not just that, but often
on the girlÕs back I saw a papoose, even as another child grew in her belly.
Children, emerging from their huts, laughed at us. One small boy, catching
my eye, with a stick in his hand, whacked his leg. He seemed to know
what must happen to me, to Jill, to Sam, and he hit his leg again. He did
not seem to mind the slash of the thin whippy branch upon his leg. I
wondered if I could be as oblivious to pain as he. But then, I doubted my
leg would be hit. No, my leg would be spared, I feared, for it meant a
dearer part of me wouldnÕt be.
With wet asses we rose up from the jeep, the guards arriving,
untying us. The natives watched from a respectful distance as we
dismounted. My blonde hair streamed wetly down over my shoulders,
matching the moist curls of my muff. Primitive eyes admired the carriage
of my breasts, so bare and white, and sized up the hind cheeks of my ass,
wiggling tensely atop my nervous legs. I stubbed my toe on a rock. I cried
out audibly, the natives laughed. I looked down, saw a nick had been made
in my red-painted toenail.
ÒMove, girls!Ó Ms. Lalique said remorselessly.
A wooden plantation house stood just behind the largest rock-hewn
pyramid in the temple complex, facing it, as if the pyramid owned the
house or, perhaps, the house owned the pyramid. A broad porch encircled
the house. It seemed to be an oasis of civilization, with its white paint
and its porch swing. We were hurried up onto the porch and inside the
house.
ÒGive them their bath, then put them into one of the rooms for
safekeeping!Ó Ms. Lalique ordered a native servant. He bowed,
worshipfully, and then ordered us up a broad, winding hardwood staircase.
Advancing up the steps I realized, hopefully, that dungeons donÕt often lie
upstairs. Perhaps we would be better treated than I thought. I glanced at
Jill. She walked just a little behind me, biting her lip. Sam marched
ahead, gallant in his captivity, like a captured officer turning in his sword
but not his honor. Except, in this case, heÕd gotten to keep his sword, at
least so far!
We were escorted to a large marble bathtub. Someone had already
filled it. Without removing our handcuffs, the native servant made us get
into the tub. It was steaming hot. I winced as I sat my bottom down in
the water under the servantÕs watchful eye. Sam announced the
submergence of his stiff prick beneath the water with a hollar.
ÒThis will kill all the sperm in my balls,Ó Sam complained.
ÒThen girls not so pregnant afterward,Ó our servant replied happily.
Perhaps that was native birth control, though I doubted it worked. Jill and
I had skipped our pills, loving the idea of swimming naked, being one with
nature. Now I wished we hadnÕt. Steamed or not, SamÕs balls bulged
hugely beneath the clear water, ensuring us of well-spermed cunts if he
ever was permitted to screw us.
Two girls appeared, full with child. They unstrapped their papooses.
The male servant removed the babies to another room. The girls undid
their tops to let their bosoms hang free. They had large, full native
breasts, swollen with milk for their newborns. They stepped into the tub.
I saw that their clothes were newly-washed, made of plain cotton,
interwoven with tanned animal skins, a native hodge-podge, bundling them
against the elements, but pulled down now to bare their mammaries. They
motioned to Sam. They did not speak english. They got him to stand, drew
him close, kneeling before him in the hot water.
As I watched, the native girls held aloft their breasts and espressed
milk meant for their newborns onto SamÕs genitals. I gazed at his huge
swollen cock, eager to pump out its own male milk, and watched
spellbound as these two girls squirted female milk all up and down SamÕs
pulsing rod. SamÕs face lit up. His manhood quavered under the milky
assault, feeling, IÕm sure, quite sexy as the girlÕs breast milk spurted onto
him. It curliqued over his shaft, ran in trickles along the underside of his
thing, dripped off it or collected at the sensitive tip, looking like white
pee as it fell finally into the water.
Sam thrust himself toward one of the girlÕs mouths. She wagged her
finger, made him hold still. Then she bade Jill and I to come forward. We
kneed our way through the tubwater until we were face-to-face with
SamÕs shaft, his purplish head bobbing between us. Jill opened her mouth
and caught possessively at SamÕs knob. I swore under my breath. IÕd
wanted it! She began suckling him like a good little acolyte girl, blow-
jobbing her favorite priest. I ducked my head close and lapped at SamÕs
balls. I could taste the Indian femaleÕs breast milk upon them. It was
sweet. I wished I could be pregnant and give Sam a bath with my own tits.
The three of us handcuffed, captive, utterly nude, we pleasured each
other in the tub, Jill and I receiving SamÕs loins in our mouths. The Indian
females caressed my bottom, JillÕs. Kneeling, our legs as straight from
the knees up as our backs, the water came only halfway up our thighs. The
Indian maidens fondled our bottoms as if with a sense of remorse,
clucking to themselves, and I felt fright even as I happily shared SamÕs
organs with Jill. What would happen to us? Would we truly be whipped?
The maidenÕs hands upon our fannies seemed to say we would be.
Abruptly I was pulled back by my hair, Jill also. SamÕs rod trembled
before us, just short of cuming, needing only a final little lick. He let out
a woeful yell as he realized we must not give him his final pleasure. He
stabbed his thing at me, hopefully, I opened my mouth to receive it but the
Indian behind me drew me back farther.
ÒSit down, Sam,Ó I heard a familiar voice command suddenly. I
turned my head as best I could and saw hostess there, watching, dressed
in Safari garb. There was a riding crop in her hand. Idly she slapped her
thigh with it. ÒGirls, please receive your dinner,Ó hostess told Jill and I.
We did not move, did not know what she meant. Then, amazingly, one of
the Indians turned me around and presented me with her breast. She put
her arm out, cradled JillÕs head, and pulled her to her remaining bosom. I
found myself suckling her, Jill beside me, while the second Indian went to
Sam and, making him sit, gave him both her breasts to sup from.
Hot with lust, scared, I nursed myself upon the Indian motherÕs teat.
She did not seem to mind feeding me. Jill supped beside me, and I saw her
throw her hips forward, wishing to be aroused. The Indian did not
accommodate her. Hands bound behind us, we took out our frustration on
her teats. She screamed as we sucked hard, harder, biting at her nipples
finally in our distress. Hostess watched over us, making sure we didnÕt
hurt our Indian mother. She bent over us, tapped our bottoms a few times,
the stiff leather striking reprovingly upon our fulsome cheeks, just enough
to warn us.
When weÕd fed on the IndianÕs breasts they washed us down in the
tub. We shivered under their touch, nervous with sexual energy, with
uncertainty. When we were bathed and rinsed they made us step out of the
tub and, undressing completely, they toweled us down with soft towels.
They avoided our sexual parts mostly, letting them air dry, knowing a
wayward rub might send us jitteringly over the edge into bliss. Sam
especially they took care not to arouse. He was hard as a post, and I could
see that the slightest touch, in his state, might result in a sperm shower
for all of us. We knelt obediently, Jill and I, on a fluffy bath mat, while
Sam, stallion-like, stood over us, wanting us, but forbidden by hostess.
Permitted at last to stand again, Jill and I rose up on our feet and
stretched. We could not get our hands free of the cuffs, but we arched our
backs and stuck out our titties. We laughed at our indecency, gazing at
each otherÕs tits, but our muscles were tired from being so confined like
this. Stand, kneel, sit, kneel again, all the while with our arms pinned
behind us. I stuck out my hips, brushed my muff against hers. I would
have made love to her, if weÕd been allowed, just to burst the bubble of
pleasure that was swollen so desperately within me.
Jill responded, rubbed her muff against my own. I ground my hips,
feeling myself press against her, clenching my fanny cheeks, wishing...
ÒNow girls, letÕs check your makeup, itÕs all washed off I see, here,
sit down!Ó hostess ordered. I was made to sit on a soft velvet covered
stool in front of a lighted makeup mirror. Jill watched, still standing, her
hair lying tousled and wet over her frail shoulders, blonde hair wetly
draping white skin. One of the Indian girls plugged in a blow drier and my
mane was dried, and then my pussy hair, between my hopefully spread
legs. They checked my nails on my hands that were so fruitlessly pinned
behind me, touched them up with lacquer. Then they did my toenails. My
face was powdered, lipstick was applied, even mascara was put upon my
eyes, and I was perfumed in all the right places so I would remain sweet-
smelling.
Jill was then put into my seat, and I was forced to stand up and
watch as the same was done to her. Hostess, meanwhile, saw that Sam
got his share of toiletries. Finally all of us, still naked and bound but
smelling quite delicate, were ushered into a small bedroom.
Its walls were covered with red damask. A Monet hung silently on
one wall, in the opposite wall a window was cut, from which the jungle
could be seen. But bars of iron ran up and down over the window, blocking
our view, still letting us see but obstructing the landscape outside,
making it a prison landscape, viewed by prisoners.
A bed with a down comforter, just big enough for two, sat along the
wall, under the window. Its pillows had been plumped by a maid, whoÕd
turned down the covers for us. Alongside the bed was a serving table,
long-legged, wheeled, upon which I instantly smelled orange sconces. I
spied a warming basket, smelled rich French Roast coffee, saw the silver
teapot which I guessed must hold it. Despite my hungry sex, my shivering
fear, I immediately felt a desire to eat.
ÒSit on the bed and IÕll feed you,Ó hostess told me, told all of us. We
found our way quickly there, sat down with our naked, soon-to-be whipped
bottoms upon the immense softness of the bedcover, my bottom upon the
sheets, actually, while Jill sat jauntily on the fold of the quilt and Sam
sat with his cock dripping right upon the comforter, sure to ruin it.
My eyes danced like a puppyÕs as I watched hostess prepare our meal.
Besides the rolls there were steamed baby shrimp on watercress, laid on a
big plate in the middle, and bits of wet apricot and apple for our dessert,
plus tangy cubes of cheese, each one speared through with a toothpick. My
titties hung before me, nipples upraised, as I watched hostess unwrap our
sconces and butter them for us.
ÒYou will be horribly whipped tomorrow, but that is no reason to be
ill-treated while you are waiting for it, is it?Ó hostess asked us, her eyes
dancing, as we sat on our bare fidgeting heinies upon the bed. She fed us
the rolls first, letting us bite into them, not giving one to each of us but
having us each share them, me biting first, then the roll passing to Jill for
her bite, and lastly to Sam. The shrimp were dangled one at a time over
our lips and we were made to leap up from our bottoms, not standing, just
hopping on our asses a little to grab at the food. Hostess intermingled
bits of cheese with the shrimp, to add to their tangy taste, and made us
eat the watercress too, for our health, stressing the healing powers of
vegetables. Lastly we were fed the fruit. With hot coffee warming our
bellies we were made to lie back in the bed. Hostess put collars on us and
made us lie flat, on our backs, whilst affixing the collars by short ropes
to the head of the bed.
ÒTurn neither to the left or the right,Ó she warned. She stood over
us, gazing down at us lovingly. We were crowded, the three of us on the
bed made for just two, though, me being younger, there was a little more
room than there might have been, with three full-grown adults sharing it.
Hostess left us like that, assigning the Indian maidens to watch us.
They stood beside the bed, one on either side, and sheÕd given them a
revolver, and told them not to hesitate to use it. One of the maids took
great pleasure in her newfound power, admiring the revolver, spinning its
chambers. She pointed its cold barrel directly at SamÕs balls and, not
satisfied with just that, she actually stuck the gun right up against him,
as if she were going to shoot his balls off! Sam remained very obedient
under the watchful maidens, despite our imprecations for him to Òdo
something!Ó (what I donÕt know). His cock stood up stiffly, stiff as our
little nipples, and the day passed into evening and into night. The window,
open but with mosquito netting over it, admitted the night sounds. I heard
crickets, the flitting of songbirds. Monkeys quarrelled somewhere off in
the trees, over a mate perhaps. A lion roared, once, sending shivers down
our spines.
In the depths of the night someone came and uncollared me as I lay
drowsing. They removed my handcuffs. Sleepily I was led down a hallway.
As I came fully awake, I found myself in hostessÕ bedroom, her husband
lying in a sumptuous bed beside her. Both were naked, him with a huge
erection and she with a lithe body I thought only a cat might possess. She
had undone her hair. Her legs were parted slightly, showing her muff
between, carelessly. She watched as my eyes darted to her unprotected
sex. Her bosoms lolled on her chest.
ÒOh, mistress!Ó I cried suddenly, not calling her hostess anymore,
not remembering, just knowing she owned me and could do with me as she
pleased now. The dinner party was long gone. The formality of the city
had given way to the wild ways of the jungle, of master and servant, of
mistress and slave. ÒPlease donÕt whip me!Ó I implored. I leapt upon her.
I pressed my body against hers, hard, with abandon. I felt her powdered
skin beneath mine, so pretty. We were naked together, she and I. I felt the
rough hand of her husband fondle my bare ass.
ÒOhhhh, dear, such a frightened kitten, but it must be done,Ó she
assured me, kissing me nonetheless, dragging my tremulous lower lip
between hers and sucking solicitously. I mouthed her mouth. I offered my
tongue as penance, hoping to please her. She drew in my tongue between
her teeth and bit it gently.
I felt a calloused hand palp my hind cheeks. Mistress pressed her
hands to my bare hips, as if to plump my bottom for him. ÒYou violated the
law, sweet one,Ó mistress told me, still toying with my tongue upon her
teeth, as her husband gave my fanny a light slap. ÒTurn around and make
master happy. He likes seeing two girls give it to each other,Ó she told
me.
At once, eager to behave and show how very good I could be, I turned
about on the bed. Mistress lay underneath me, her legs spread, waiting to
receive my tongue in her pussy. With a workmanlike zeal I bent my head
down between her opened legs and began tonguing her. I gulped as I felt
her do the same to me. Her head placed comfortably upon a pillow, she
lifted my hips to her and darted her tongue into my slit. My bottom heaved
uncertainly. I was new at this. It was strange to give and receive at the
same time. She eased my thighs wider apart, my knees outside her,
trapping her a little, and dove into me again, her tongue a Jacques
Cousteau looking to conquer new depths. Fearfully I let a little fart. I
think it might have been the sconces, they were so rich, but mistress
simply laughed, wrinkled her nose a little, and continued probing me with
her tongue. Thankfully, my first gas attack was my last.
It was odd, kneeling there on the bed, in a 69 position, my vulnerable
bottom upraised, yet with her tongue stabbing into me. I licked her as
avidly I could, hoping to win forgiveness. I prayed Jill did not find out
about this, but each girl to her own, I insisted to myself. This was like
love and war, where everythingÕs fair game, with my bottom on the line
instead of my heart. The governor watched, stroking himself, and I
realized he was old enough to need something like this to make him hard.
Mistress and I went cumming at last over each otherÕs tongues. It
was odd, tasting a woman. She rolled me over and pushed my knees off the
bed and insisted on licking my heinie. Feeling her tongue on my soft fanny
I begged her anew not to whip me. But she just licked, laving my skin and
coating it with her saliva. After a little bit her husband introduced his
prick to my mouth. I didnÕt want it. I tried to expel it. Then, realizing he
would have the final say about my bottom, I took him greedily. I sucked
him in as deep as I could, gagging on him. He came quickly. At once I was
dismissed. The Indian maid who had brough me took me back to my
bedroom, where the others lay. My cuffs were reattached. She gave me a
quick bath in the bathroom and then returned me to the bed. I found my
sleepy friends eager to have me back, making a space for me, asking quiet
questions. I did not tell them any details of my stay in mistressÕ bedroom.
They were still both vibrating with passion, JillÕs cunny buzzing and
SamÕs rod stiffer than the governorÕs could ever hope to be.
Morning. The sunlight filtered through a hazy mist, bringing warmth,
brightness. Our window had no curtain. We were at the sunÕs mercy,
protected only by the rising mist. The night had been cool, but not
excessively so. I found the sunÕs rays slashing across my skin,
threatening to tan my pubis, where my swimsuit usually protected me. Oh,
if only IÕd kept my swimsuit on at the beach!
We were summoned. Our collars were unbuckled, left to lie upon the
bed. Naked but for our handcuffs we were taken downstairs. Stepping out
onto the front porch, barefoot, I saw a long line of native men decked out
in feathers and beads. They held long spears in their fists. They had
shields made of wood to protect themselves from us. SamÕs handcuffs
were unlocked, then JillÕs, then mine. We glanced at each other. There
was no hope of escape. Quietly, with my head bowed, I let myself be
pushed forward down the porchsteps and into the Indians. I passed down
between the two rows of natives, visibly shaking, one hand behind me,
caressing my bottom, the other uplifted, toying with the locks of my hair.
I tried to be calm, yet betrayed my fears. Jill followed, both her hands
clapped to her ass. Sam came last, striding confidently as he could, his
cock painfully erect, making the native men laugh at him.
I felt the wetness of the dew-moistened dirt beneath my feet. My
blonde hair, sugary-white, tumbled over my slim suntanned shoulders. My
fanny wiggled atop my legs, the skin creamy, delicate in its whiteness. At
the far end of the native lineup I emerged to see a post. It was a simple
affair, set in the dirt, three chains hanging from its uppermost point,
where wrists might be strung up for a beating. Beside the post stood a
husky native, wearing gloves, boots, and a tribal headdress. He gazed at
me as a cook might at a turkey about to be stuffed. Next to him stood a
small, spry Indian, a whip in his hand. To my heartbeating surprise I
realized it was a bullwhip!
ÒNooo,Ó I cried. My knees turned to jello. I did not want to go
forward to that terrible stark post! It was nothing but old wood,
splintery, yet thick as a young Redwood, and standing straight up, jutting
into the sky. Jill moaned when she saw it, woefully. We clasped hands.
Sam started, seeing our torture was real. He would not want to jab his
penis tip against that horrid post, I knew that!
Our Indian captive from the night before appeared, the maiden, still
bearing her revolver. Her breasts were nude now as theyÕd been through
the night. She stuck the barrel of the revolver into my belly, right into my
belly button. I gazed down at it. My softly swelling tummy might blow
apart at the slightest touch of her finger upon that hair trigger. Jill lifted
her chin and, seeing we had absolutely no choice, she urged me past the
maiden. I felt the revolver brushing along my tummy, falling away finally,
as I took a slow, fateful step forward. Our bottoms wobbling, we
proceeded up to the post and stood with our knees knocking in front of it.
The crowd surged behind us, drawing close. Sam came up to the post and
regarded it as one might a competitor.
ÒLift up your hands,Ó Jill said in a quavery voice to me.
ÒHuh?Ó I asked, but my wrists were so limp with fright that she had
no trouble raising them up. She pinioned me into the cuffs which dangled
down from the top of the post. I watched, my thighs trembling, my bosoms
high on my chest and jiggling hopelessly. I heard a snap and knew myself
to be bound. Jill kissed my cheek. Then she lofted her wrists up to her
own waiting cuffs and slipped one inside. She clicked it shut, trapping
herself, but she had no way to lock up her other wrist.
Graciously Sam buckled Jill into her other cuff. Then he kissed the
tip of each of her nipples. He turned to our captors.
ÒLet me fuck my wife before you do us,Ó Sam said with gentlemanly
reserve to the governor. The man reached for SamÕs penis and caught it
between his fingers. SamÕs penis looked massive within the governorÕs
fingers, as if he might break them off simply by wiggling his cock.
ÒUp the ass, then,Ó the governor answered.
ÒSam!Ó Jill cried. Her bottom was tense with fright. Sam asked for
some vaseline. Mistress came forward, offered him hers. Sam greased his
own dick while mistress, sharing the jar with him, lubed her pointing
finger in the goo and touched it to JillÕs anus. Jill trembled. Mistress
insinuated her finger just within JillÕs hole, making her buck.
ÒShe is ready,Ó mistress said. I glanced at JillÕs heinie. It was
squeezed tight as a drum. She was so frightened, despite her bravery
moments ago in locking me up and then herself.
Sam got behind his wife. Roughly he took her hips and drew her
fanny to him. I heard Jill gasp. Sam worked himself ruthlessly into her.
He was hungry, he was as afraid as she. But he hoped their mutual
sacrifice, humiliating themselves like this, might win them forgiveness.
ÒSam, I -Ó Jill began.
ÒJust relax as best you can,Ó Sam replied with a whisper, kissing
her shoulder. She bleated as he forced himself in deeper. I offered my
own hind cheeks, watching, unconscious of myself. I so wished to have
Sam, yet, had I thought about it, I would not want to suffer such a cock
being put up my bottom! And definitely not in front of all these natives!
Sam worked himself up JillÕs hineyhole, making her shudder, urging
her to unbunch her cheeks and take him as if they both were at home.
Helpfully mistress knelt beside them and began licking at their conjoined
parts, tickling JillÕs muff with her fingers. I saw mistress tear open her
blouse, so aroused was she at the spectacle.
ÒThank you, thank you, thank you, mistress!Ó Jill said happily, tears
coming to her eyes, as she found herself suddenly able to take her husband
more freely. Sam urged himself in and out now, eager to have his pleasure.
Suddenly he grunted. Jill squeaked as he pushed himself deeper than heÕd
yet gone. I saw them kiss, and he emptied himself into her bowels.
Sam removed his limpening shaft. ÒAlright, do your worst,Ó he said,
raising up his arms so that mistress herself could buckle his wrists into
the handcuffs.
ÒIÕll tend to your bottom afterward,Ó mistress told him. ÒBear up
and take it like a man.Ó She motioned for a soft wool cloth to be wrapped
round the post. ÒItÕs for the girls, but youÕll benefit too, I imagine,Ó she
smirked at Sam. His cock still had not lost all its hardness. He could have
gone a second time, I realised, and wished I might have taken him.
ÒGirls, this will hurt. YouÕve broken the law and you must pay for
it,Ó mistress declared. ÒYell as freely as you like. ThereÕs no one to hear
but the natives. WeÕre far from civilization, and its just you hear, in your
birthday suits, with nothing to save or protect you from the whip. Dance
about, beg, plead, it doesnÕt matter. All 39 lashes will be applied, all of
them on your pretty bottoms.Ó She drew back from us. She nodded to the
Indian with the bullwhip. I turned my head, frightened, hastily sizing up
my attacker. I saw him raise the whip. The end was frayed, tasseled from
age, as if many tourist girls had been brought here before me.
And then it fell. My bottom rebounded, smarting horribly. I trilled
out a cry of regret and he struck Jill next. She wiggled like a fish even as
I churned my cheeks to try to throw off the sting. Sam was next. He
hollared like the Indians in films, the real Indians laughing at us.
With butt-whacking certainty the whip fell again and again. There
was no pity in the Indian. We were just objects to him, to be strung up
and whipped as his master wished, for a few beads perhaps, or merely to
impress his fellow Indians with the thoroughness of his strokes.
I bit my lip, found my reserve gone in no time. I began sobbing. My
breasts heaved on my chest. My ass felt aflame. Jill wailed beside me.
Sam, somehow, remained stoic, only yelling now and then when a
particularly nasty cut caught him off guard.
The sun rose over the trees. Its hot rays fell upon my so recently
white bottom, now all red, smarting furiously. The Indian took his time,
savoring our cries, our hip waggling antics. He made the frayed end of the
whip lick up between my legs. I shouted as the whip touched my cunny,
hurting it, making me wish I was still at home, and in a one-piece, no less,
doing my summerschool homework. I strove to keep my legs together but
the blasting of the whip was too much for me, making me dance about,
showing my all to the Indians, who relished my torment.
The whipmaster taunted Sam, striking close to his balls, yet never,
in the end, quite touching them. Sam tried to stand with his legs together
but found the whipÕs blows yanked them apart, so basic and all-
encompassing was the pain from them, striking him right on his
fundament, making him dance as Jill and I danced.
Suddenly, it was over. I had not counted the blows. Had we gotten
all 39? I did not know. A bucket of water was drawn from an animal
drinking trough and splashed in turn on each of our fannies. We were
unshackled by mistress. Immediately my hands flew to my bottom. I
could barely touch it, yet I tried, to assuage the hurt. I viewed the world
through teary eyes. Jill clapped her own hands to her heinie, found she
could do little to help it, her hands stinging it anew. Sam let his wrists
be taken down and stood holding his balls. He was scared for them. The
whip had come so close, yet missed every time, but only deliberately so.
The Indian was a true marksman.
Our blonde hair falling over our eyes, Jill and I were escorted back
into the house. Our bosoms wobbled with every one of our gasping sobs. I
felt the dirt under my feet. Otherwise I was so sensuously clean, wet
with my own sweat, but otherwise fresh as the morning. It was strange,
being surrounded by natives, some of them unbathed from the smell of
them, yet all white and clean myself, but with my bottom howling at me
like a sharp-biting frost.
At the door to the plantation house we were made to stop and splash
in a foot trough. I saw the water become sullied with the red dirt from
the jungle floor as I stood in the trough, holding my hands over my ass
protectively. Jill was next, Sam last. Then, our feet clean, we padded
back into the sumptuous interior of the house.
Mistress led us into the parlor. Amidst family photographs, with a
hutch of decorative china displayed behind us, she lined us up three
abreast. She took a little box from a table. I gulped when I saw what it
contained. Nipple clamps! Mistress stroked my own nipples, still rigid
from my ordeal, and affixed the clamps to them. IÕd never worn nipple
clamps before. I shouted as the first was put on, then watched with
trepidation as the second was attached to me. They hurt! For a moment I
forgot all about my bottom, though the entire time I stood rubbing it, or
trying to. Jill was next. She accepted hers with less complaint. Sam had
put her in such things before, I guessed. Lastly Sam himself was made to
wear the clips. He did not like them, yelled with surprise as he felt them
attached for the first time in his life.
A girl entered. She was white, no more than 8 or 9, with little
breast buds just beginning to pop from her chest. She wore panties. They
were creased in back, as if sheÕd just pulled them up, and I thought I saw a
blush of red upon her bottom, mostly concealed by the cotton panties. Had
she just been spanked? She seemed spoilt, as if always a little
recalcitrant at any chores she might be assigned, perhaps for nothing more
than a little attention. Now I saw she had a job to do. She held three
ropes in her small hands, and I guessed they were for us.
ÒStart with Sam,Ó mistress told the girl. ÒDo it just as you would in
girl scouts.Ó Girl Scouts? She looked to be still a Brownie to me, though
perhaps they graduated more quickly here. ÒSam, this is Beth. SheÕs going
to tie your wrists so well that even you wonÕt be able to break free.Ó Sam
snorted his disapproval, but let the girl draw his hands behind him. Beth
stroked the long, powerful muscles of his forearms. Mistress caressed
the girlÕs soft blonde hair, neatly tied off into two ponytails.
ÒWhat happened? You look like you just pulled up your panties,Ó
mistress said to Beth.
ÒGovÕnor spanked me,Ó Beth sniffled. With nimble fingers she began
tying SamÕs wrists. I think he was still too shocked by the clamps on his
nipples to think of flight. Beyond the drawn curtains of the parlor, made
of the finest lace, we could see the shifting shadows of the restless
natives. They were shouting something. I prayed it was not a request for
an encore.
I turned to Jill. She was disconsolate. She held the cheeks of her
bottom apart, biting her lip, letting air into the little hole in back which
brimmed with her husbandÕs sperm. She fell against me. I almost fell
over. I caught her, let her press her overheated body to mine. We panted
together, our bottoms making us feel like naughty, reproved gradeschool
children. If only we hadnÕt slipped off our bikinis to go swimming! JillÕs
breasts pressed heavily alongside mine. Four gourds, they seemed, our
titties with their admonitory clamps biting off the tips within scissorlike
jaws, making them hurt so. Jill flicked one of my clamps. It wiggled upon
the tip of my teat.
ÒDonÕt,Ó I breathed, shivering. She stroked my belly.
ÒNext time, weÕll keep our bikinis on, no matter what Sam says,Ó Jill
confessed to me.
ÒYes, I replied.Ó I poked my finger into her bellybutton. She dropped
her hand to my fleecy muff and tangled her fingernails within it.
Somehow I knew that next time, when Sam made us, weÕd slip out of our
bikinis just as quickly, the waves washing the nearby beach. And weÕd
watch wide-eyed as Sam lowered his own trunks, letting his massive
prick and balls swing freely before us.
ÒWell why would your governor spank you?Ó mistress asked with
feigned curiosity. Together we glanced at Sam. I think IÕd heard mistress
ask the question before, the girl had not answered. Now mistress asked
again.
ÒBecause I didnÕt want to come inside!Ó Beth exclaimed. Intently she
kept tying Sam. He flexed his powerful arms. He was bound, his chest
huge and taut, his cock dangling down, like a snake waiting for the
strength to strike again. ÒWhy must I come inside?Ó Beth asked. ÒAnd
why canÕt I play anymore as the Indians do, without any clothes on?Ó
ÒBecause youÕre growing up, dear,Ó mistress answered. ÒYouÕre
becoming a young lady. We do not run around naked as the primitive
natives do. WeÕre civilized.Ó Mistress looked up at me, at Jill.
ÒThere is cream in the top drawer of that dresser,Ó mistress told
Jill. ÒGet it and put it on your bottoms. I can see you need it.Ó
Quickly Jill broke away from me and went trippingly to the dresser,
her wounded hiney cheeks wobbling behind her as she walked, utterly
naked, across the parlor floor. She opened the dresser, poked around.
Finding the cream, she returned to where we stood. At once she opened
the jar, tossed aside the lid, and stepped over to her husband and began to
lave handfuls of cream on his injured ass.
Sam ground his hairy thighs together, loving the attention from his
wife, even as Beth put the final touches on his bindings. His cock stood
up, thrust at the air.
ÒFlurry next,Ó mistress said to Beth. The small girl came over to
me, got behind me, pulled my arms back even as I speculated about
kneeling before Sam and praying to his Godlike phallus. I wiggled my toes
into the deep impressing softness of the rug. Even now I wished to serve
Sam in whatever way I could, despite what heÕd gotten us into.
Finishing with her husband, Jill came to me next, and assuaged my
hurt asscheeks as Beth bound my wrists tightly. I could do nothing but
stand and receive their attention. Mistress watched me. My titties
jiggled as they worked. I glanced beyond at Sam, he stood barefoot, naked
from tip to toes, watching us, watching the figures dancing and hollaring
outside our parlor windows. Inside, all was safe and secure, prim and
proper, despite our impoliteness at being nude in such a haven of Puritan
tradition. I glanced at the piano in the corner of the room, a small one,
imported from Europe. I remembered my lessons as a girl. If I was home
now mom would probably have me sitting at ours, plinking out my lessons,
with my stereo headphones surreptitiously plugged into my ears and Rat
blasting away into them.
Jill was last to be tied. Sam and I drew close to her, watching her,
waiting for whatever might befall us next.
ÒYes, youÕll be good in here,Ó mistress said to us, her voice almost
soothing. It was a proper English voice, her tone formal, yet consoling.
ÒDo you know what the traditional fate is for those bound to the post and
whipped is? Why, it is to be eaten. That is what the natives are asking
for now. They have a pot boiling out there, just for you, big enough for all
three of you to fit into. The ultimate jacuzzi, IÕd say, wouldnÕt you?Ó she
laughed as she saw all three of us shiver. ÒPlease obey me in all things,
and the governor too, and weÕll let you stay for dinner.Ó She placed a hand
on SamÕs newly creamed bottom, seemed to size up his buttocks as if they
were shanks of beef in a store. With her other hand she sized up the
length of his cock. Yes, even that would feed five native children, I
thought with a shiver. The tongue, our eyes, my titties, SamÕs dick,
nothing would be left to waste.
ÒIÕm done!Ó Beth announced.
ÒYou may go now,Ó mistress told the girl.
ÒWhy is his so much bigger than IshmaelÕs?Ó the girl asked, pointing
at SamÕs penis, perhaps comparing it to the wieners of her Indian
playmates.
ÒYou may go now, Beth!Ó mistress replied. The girl clapped her hands
to the seat of her bottom, suddenly fearful, and scurried from the room. I
watched her blonde hair as she retreated. It was loose, flowing, like
mine, like JillÕs. All she lacked was a little height and adipose tissue to
join us. How long before the governor found her to be more useful to him
than just as a spanking toy? She was gone. Too short to be noticed by
men, even by our lecherous governor, even by the randy native men, she
could play in the trees still, catlike, watching; she could enter or leave
without drawing attention, attending parties as she chose, uninvited
sometimes, and unseen. Yet in just a few years she would lose her
anonymity. Entering a room then, tall and willowy, perhaps still in her
p.j.Õs thinking herself a child still, sheÕd find she could not escape. Ten
perhaps, eleven, twelve at the most, sheÕd see how the men watched her
then. When she turned to leave they would not let her. SheÕd be stopped at
the door.
ÒWho is this, mistress?Ó theyÕd ask. ÒYou did not tell us you had
such a lovely girl staying with you.Ó
ÒWhy--Ó perhaps mistress herself would be caught off guard.
Especially if the girl was her daughter. ÒI had not thought to mention her.
She was sent to bed early. She is too young for such things...Ó And the
men, gathering round her now, admiring her thin frame with its developing
breasts, would declare she must not be put to bed... not yet, not yet. They
must each have a dance with her, one at least. May she dance at least one
dance? And she would stay the night, her tresses flying, her ponytails
untied as the dancing continued. Still in her p.j.Õs perhaps, her teddy bear
placed on a chair by the wall, Beth would dance at the grownup party, with
the wicked men who wanted more, much more, than just one dance with
her.
With the chanting of the natives reaching new heights of passion,
mistress passed her finger beneath each of our chins and made us stand up
straight. Our arms were held tightly behind us. My titties wobbled
nakedly on my chest, my tit clamps the only attire I wore, covering my
stiff-stemmed nipples. My puss was bare. I felt terribly exposed standing
there, the natives screeching just outside the parlor walls. Only the
presence of my two best friends, similarly shorn, equally pinioned and
hurting, kept me from collapsing into a nervous ball of flesh upon the
floor. Yet we were not to remain upright any longer. The governor was to
have his parting inspection of us, we were told.
Mistress made us kneel down and abjectly bend over right there in
the parlor, our bottoms high, our faces pressed deep into the soft shag rug.
It smelled new. Had it been laid, or cleaned, just for us? Sam did not
want to present himself this way, especially as the governor strode in
just as we were being ordered down. But mistress, ever his master,
grabbed his nuts and made him comply with compressing squeezes. Soon
he was showing his bottom to the governor just as openly as Jill and I did,
our thighs apart, our sex available to him. With a grunt of dissatisfaction
at our display he toed each of us between our buns with his boot. He made
us rear up even more, stretch our legs even wider apart. I think he nudged
SamÕs dangling nutsack a little to force his compliance, pushing it upward,
as one might poke at the base of a waterballoon.
ÒYou have all three received your judicial punishment from me for
going naked in my province,Ó the governor proclaimed to us. ÒWe are white
people. We do not go naked as the primitives do. And they do not go naked
except here, in the jungle, on their traditional tribal lands, lest they wish
to feel my wrath for their indecency, however natural it may be for them.
You will not flaunt my laws again, do you understand?Ó
We mouthed our answers into the carpet. None of us misunderstood.
He left. We were allowed to stand. It was hard, standing up with
our wrists tied. Mistress helped us. We were led upstairs by her, put back
into the bedroom reserved for us. ÒDress quickly,Ó she said, cutting us
loose from our bonds with a small, sharp knife. I saw simple clothes laid
out for us on our bed. Thin t-shirts, through which our nipples might
show. Cutoffs, deliberately shortened for Jill and I so that our asscheeks
looked like they would not be entirely covered by them. Jeans for Sam
that went down to his knees. Sneakers, new, but without socks to go with
them.
Mistress looked at SamÕs cock. It was stiff as a board. ÒDo not
pleasure your females here,Ó she told him. ÒYou must leave now. Any
hesitation, any quick pleasures, will cost you. Wait until you are home to
play. Someone will come for you in a few minutes. Be ready.Ó She left us
then, her skirt swirling around her ankles, shutting the door to our
bedroom behind her and locking it, not for our privacy, but so we could not
escape.
Jill tiptoed to the window, still feeling captive, looked outside with
her finger placed upon the stiff cold window-bars. ÒThey do have a pot!Ó
she breathed. I ran to look, as did Sam. We stood watching a moment.
Outside natives danced about a pot, thrusting their spears at the sky,
hollaring. It boiled, empty, but with spices being thrown in, as if in
preparation for a feast.
Jill withdrew from the window, taking my hand, leading me away.
She reached up and plucked my clamps from my nipples. I breathed a sigh
of relief. She bent and sucked each of my nipples with quick compassion.
Then she offered me her breasts and I took hers off. With sisterly
affection I gave her teats a nurturing, soothing suckle.
ÒWe must dress!Ó Jill said, lifting my head from her sore nipples.
We kissed, once, on the lips, then got into our clothes. ÒHurry, Sam!Ó Jill
told her husband.
Sam went to the bed, got into his jeans. He had not been given
underpants, just as Jill and I had no panties to wear. With difficulty he
managed to stuff his hard cock into his jeans. Carefully he zipped them
up. Jill rushed to help him so that he would not injure himself. When his
fly was up she pressed a hand to his bulging crotch. There eyes met. It
was a glance only a husband and wife can share. And then only newlyweds,
I think, or the recently married. A look of promised fertility and shared
awareness of each other. I saw JillÕs nipples poking excitedly through her
t-shirt, making the fabric stand up. I glanced down at myself. My own
boobs had their little tit-tents. I tugged on my shirt to make it taut,
hoping to make the tents go away, but they only stood out more.
A key in the door. ÒAre you ready?Ó a voice squeaked. Mouselike.
How strange, after our ordeal here, that the person come to release us
should be none other than Beth, the bottomgirl, so recently spanked. She
was properly dressed now in jeans of her own, a t-shirt on her, and a
little denim vest over it, to hide her budding breasts. In her hand she held
a wet lollipop, large, made of swirled colors. A stain of it was upon her
cheeks. ÒCome on, governor is driving back to the city. Our stay here is
done, for now. I think heÕs going to let you off at your car. You met him or
something, I guess, at a beach?Ó Her eyes were curious. She did not know.
ÒShhh, weÕre coming, right now,Ó Jill said, bending slightly, her ass
bulging, hanging out of her too-short shorts. She did not wish to explain
to the girl all the adventures adults might have. She would learn soon
enough, in her own way, in just a few years time at most...
ÒWhy are your pants so SHORT?Ó Beth asked as Jill slipped by her to
leave. Jill said nothing. She pulled on her jeans in back, hoping to cover
herself better, but could not. There was not enough fabric to do it, it was
as simple as that.
We went outside. The governor and mistress waited. The back seat
of their jeep was empty. We would sit there. Beth, I saw, would ride up
front, sitting on mistressÕ lap. The second car, filled with guards as
before, would follow us.
ÒI want pants like they have,Ó Beth said to mistress, pointing to Jill
and me.
ÒGet in the car, dear,Ó mistress replied. ÒDrive slowly, dear,Ó she
said to her husband. ÒWe must not let Beth fall out. And I prefer to keep
the, ah, jiggling in back to a minimum, since you wouldnÕt provide bras to
the girls.Ó
The governor harrumphed, but I saw he would obey. Mistress was in
charge now. Sam and Jill and I clambored into the back of the jeep. All
around us the natives stared, disappointed. They would not get to eat us
today.
A chieftain ran up to the jeep as we settled into the back. He
gesticulated to the governor, angrily, like a child deprived of his prize.
The governor tossed the chieftain a large brass key ring. Upon it
was a single key. ÒDEA,Ó I thought I heard the governor say. The chieftain
scrabbled in the dirt, picked up the ring from where it had fallen. The
chieftain smiled. Then he grinned, broadly. Our jeep lurched forward.
I glanced back at the chieftain. Amidst the dust from our jeep he
was hollaring to his people. As I watched, they surged into the plantation
house.
ÒI wish youÕd have reminded them to wipe their feet,Ó mistress said
to the governor.
ÒWe will have three less Americans in our country by nightfall,Ó the
governor smirked. I shivered a moment, then realized he was not speaking
of us. There must have been other Americans in the house, I thought,
prisoners like ourselves, but DEA agents? Sam turned. I saw he was
thinking of being a hero somehow. Jill put a hand softly to his groin, held
him. There was nothing we could do. Their fate was sealed, whoever they
were, with the guards following us, the governor in front, a pistol
strapped on. This was no movie. No heroics on SamÕs part could save our
fellow prisoners back there, in the plantation house, from their fate.
SamÕs muscles slackened. He turned and faced forward again. I could see
he was dejected. He did not like seeing badness triumph over good. I
dropped my face to his stomach. It was hard, uncompromising, heroic. I
joined my hand to JillÕs in caressing his bulging jeans.
ÒPlease, please,Ó I begged him. He let us win him over. He did
nothing, sitting forlornly as we travelled into the depths of the jungle, the
temple complex soon gone in the foliage behind us, unfindable even, if you
did not know the way. As the general chose between rutted roads in the
jungle I breathed easier. Now Sam would not even be able to find the
temple, I realized. We became lost in the Amazon forest, the governor our
only hope of ever escaping, and we (even Sam) were forced to accept his
sardonic mastery over us. I sat up at last, Jill too, and we endured the
governorÕs frequent glances at our bouncing boobies in our thin little
shirts.
30
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-Naughty Naked Dreamgirls (Library of Congress ISSN: 1070-1427) is
copyright 1998 and a trademark of Andrew Roller. Work by others
copyright 1998 by the respective copyright holder.
-END OF story EMISSION