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Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
TORTURED TEEN
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Chapter One
I drew in my breath. I asked myself again if it was the right thing to
do. I hesitated. At last, holding my breath, my cheeks bulging with the
effort, I knocked. It was a small, tentative knock. I stared at the big
wooden front door to their house and waited. I heard nothing. Their house
was big, the blinds were shut. Perhaps they were not home? I turned,
slightly, as if to go.
The knob turned. The door opened. I stood with my bookbag over my
shoulder and stared with frightened eyes into the darkness beyond. A head
popped out. It was that of a woman. She had dark hair and mysterious,
sparkling green eyes. Her nose was aquiline. It gave her the look of a
Roman empress.
ÒOh, you must be Emily,Ó the woman said. She tossed back her hair.
It was pinned up, but carelessly. Strands of it hung temptingly round her
face. She looked like she might have just gotten out of bed; but it was
midafternoon.
ÒYes,Ó I gulped.
ÒCome in, please,Ó the woman said. I had not met her before but I
knew, from her husband, that her name was Heather. I thanked her and
stepped in past the door. She closed it behind me.
I had expected, for some reason, to find myself in a frightening
place, but instead I was in a quite ordinary foyer, with a living room just
beyond. I noticed at once that the owners of the house were able to afford
nice things. There was a Grecian vase that stood just inside the door. It
held a vine that clung to a long stick. In the living room I saw a wide-
screen T.V. A pair of love seats faced it. Each was covered in a
sumptuous brocade. There was a fireplace in the living room. It had an
antique iron fireset beside it. There was a golden urn on the mantle above.
Between the love seats was a coffee table. Several leather bound books
were stacked indifferently upon it. Yet, for all the expense of the
furnishings, the impression I came away with was that of a normal home.
Heather herself was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. I guessed if she hadnÕt
been napping she had, perhaps, been straightening up.
ÒIÕm so glad you could come,Ó Heather said to me politely.
ÒMe too,Ó I gushed. I felt nervous. Heather helped me take off my
book bag. She opened a closet in the foyer and placed it carefully inside.
ÒI have to run some errands but Norman is here,Ó Heather said. ÒIÕll call
him.Ó
ÒOkay,Ó I said.
ÒWould you like to watch T.V.?Ó Heather asked, beckoning me with
her eyes to follow her into the living room.
ÒAlright,Ó I said quietly.
I sat down on one of the love seats. Heather smiled at me again and
turned a left. I waited. The T.V was tuned to a sports channel and I stared
dumbly at it, not really watching. I thought I heard a door open and close
deeper in the house. Then, a moment later, Norman appeared.
ÒOh!Ó I cried, then managed to get out, ÒHello, Professor Cane.Ó
He smiled. He was tall and in his mid-30Õs. He wore slacks and a
polo shirt. He had sandy blonde hair. ÒYou know you donÕt have to call me
that, Emily,Ó he said. I blushed. I was a freshman in his History class and
actually liked calling him by his title. But I said ÒYes, Norman,Ó and his
smile deepened. He strode over to me and sat down beside me and put his
arm around my waist. ÒIÕm glad you decided to spend the weekend with
us,Ó Norman said quietly. I looked at my knees. I wore jeans with holes
ripped in the knees and I could see my bare skin.
ÒYou have such a nice house,Ó I murmured.
ÒWell, thanks,Ó Norman said. ÒBut its rather large for just my wife
and I. We enjoy having company to help fill it up, so I want you to feel
right at home.Ó
I giggled. ÒDo you still want me to pretend to be your 12-year-old
daughter?Ó I asked. I looked up and met NormanÕs eyes. His smile had
faded.
ÒYes,Ó Norman said. His voice was serious. ÒYes, I do, Emily,Ó he
said.
ÒGood,Ó I answered, and blushed. He raised a hand to my face and
held it so that I was forced to keep looking at him.
ÒYou will have a father for the first time in your life,Ó Norman said.
ÒI know,Ó I gulped.
ÒMy wife, though sheÕs only 23, will be your mother,Ó Norman added.
ÒYes,Ó I said.
ÒAnd even though IÕm your professor, I want you to know that,
although youÕre my best student in class, here, in my home, which is your
home for the weekend, I have no expectation that youÕll be on your best
behavior,Ó Norman said. I blushed a deep red.
ÒI- I guess that means I can do what I want?Ó I asked.
ÒYes, but that doesnÕt mean we wonÕt have a few rules,Ó Norman
said. His blue eyes gazed deeply into mine and he asked, ÒYou have truly
never been spanked, Emily?Ó
ÒNo. I had no... daddy,Ó I replied.
ÒThis weekend you will,Ó Norman said.
ÒYes,Ó I said, my voice so soft it was almost like a breath. He
leaned forward and kissed my lips lightly. Then he looked down at my
knees, pausing for a moment to drink in my well-developed bust. I was
wearing a pink sweater. I knew, though most men wouldnÕt confess to it,
that pink was his favorite color.
ÒI donÕt approve of my daughter wearing jeans with holes in the
knees,Ó Norman said. ÒI have clothes upstairs that IÕve picked out for you.
YouÕll take these things off and put them on.Ó
ÒYes,Ó I answered. Then, with great hesitation in my voice, but
finally getting it out, I added, ÒDaddy.Ó
ÒVery good,Ó Norman said. ÒYou will make a fine daughter. Your
mother will be as pleased as I am. Of course you will call her Ômommie,Õ
just as you call me Ôdaddy.ÕÓ
Norman stood up. He took my hand and I rose unsteadily to my feet.
We walked together from the living room, across the foyer, to a staircase.
Norman guided me up the stairs. We went down a hall and he opened the
door to a bedroom. It looked like the room of a 12-year-old girl. There
was a small bed, and, above it, a poster of a unicorn. To the right of the
bed was a night table with a lamp on it whose lamp shade was decorated
with a picture of the sinking Titanic. Stuffed animals competed for space
on the pillow of the bed; childrenÕs books were stacked in a bookcase along
the far wall. There was an easel standing in a corner, where a child might
paint. On the bed clothes were laid out: a short skirt, pleated; a cottony
top that I saw would leave my midriff bare; new sneakers, white socks,
and, rather embarrassingly, for no item was apparently to be left to
chance, a white pair of panties. Next to the panties were plastic
barrettes, for my hair.
ÒYou want me to take off my clothes and...?Ó I asked.
ÒPut on these,Ó Norman said. His grip on my small hand made me
shiver. I was used to boys who wanted to get my clothes off, but this
man, my professor, wanted me to undress only to dress again! How
languidly his seduction of me proceeded! His wife was out shopping, he
had me willingly in his home. He might have raped me right there but
instead he only wanted me to change my clothes.
ÒAnd then?Ó I asked.
ÒWe shall go for a walk,Ó Norman said. He grinned at me
reassuringly. ÒJust to talk, and enjoy each otherÕs company. ThereÕs a
wood out back.Ó
ÒAlright,Ó I said, my voice quiet. I looked again at the clothes. ÒI
guess I should keep my bra on?Ó I asked, noticing he hadnÕt placed one on
the bed for me.
ÒNo,Ó Norman said. ÒTake everything off. We will be alone in the
woods. It wonÕt matter if your breasts arenÕt in a halter.Ó
ÒShould I--Ó I said, looking up into his eyes. ÒPerhaps I need
something for poison ivy, or bugs.Ó
Norman laughed. ÒYou have my word that I wonÕt throw you down on
the ground in the woods and fuck you,Ó he said. ÒIs that what concerns
you?Ó
ÒYes,Ó I answered.
ÒChange your clothes,Ó Norman said. ÒI just want some fresh air,
thatÕs all. IÕve been working all day on a report for the University. ItÕs
called ÔOptions for Reducing On-Campus Sexual Harassment and, frankly, I
hate it.Ó
I giggled.
ÒI guess you do,Ó I answered.
ÒDonÕt forget to call me daddy,Ó Norman said.
ÒAlright, Daddy,Ó I answered.
Norman walked to the door. He turned. He looked at me. I was
already undoing my jeans. I saw his AdamÕs apple move in his throat as
his eyes fell to my waist.
ÒYour mother would not appreciate it if you leave your clothes on the
floor, but a girl whoÕs eager to go for a walk with her daddy probably
would,Ó Norman said.
ÒYes, daddy,Ó I answered.
ÒYou have the most beautiful vase-like hips in the world,Ó Norman
said, and then turned and left the room.
We walked in the woods, just as he promised. I wore my hair free,
long and blonde, tumbling down over my shoulders, but with barrettes on
either side of my face to remind Norman of my new age. My top just
covered my tits. I was surprised at how small it was. It barely managed
to descend over my nipples, the entire underswell of each of my bosoms
was left bare. My tummy too was bare. My navel showed and as we walked
Norman talked to me about having it pierced.
ÒIt would hurt, of course, but it might look quite sexy,Ó Norman said,
gazing at my flat belly.
ÒIf you would really like it, daddy, IÕm willing to try it,Ó I answered.
He laughed.
ÒOh, sorry,Ó he said. ÒI was speaking to you as Norman, I guess, not
as your pretend father. IÕm sure any daughter of mine who got her navel
pierced would be in for a sound spanking, no matter how old she was!Ó
I licked my lips. ÒThen I should be pierced, surely,Ó I said, feeling
bold.
ÒNot without my permission,Ó Norman said. He looked at me
seriously and I knew he meant it.
ÒOf course,Ó I answered quietly. Just then I took an exaggerated
step over a fallen branch and one of my tits popped free of my shirt. ÒOh!Ó
I cried. I reached up to take hold of my shirt but Norman caught one of my
hands.
ÒDonÕt,Ó he said. I felt the warmth of his grip on my wrist.
ÒAlright,Ó I said. We walked on. One of my tits remained covered
while the other bounced freely. My nipples were hard. I looked down at
them. How strangely sexy I looked, with one of my breasts bared! The
cone of nude flesh quivered in the dappled sunlight that passed through the
trees. Suddenly my top popped off my other nipple. I gasped. Both my
breasts quavered nakedly. My nipples stood out with excitement.
ÒYour mother will not be pleased to know youÕve been walking around
topless,Ó Norman said. ÒBut I find it quite intoxicating.Ó
ÒIÕm glad you appreciate me for my mind,Ó I said, feeling a little
ridiculous showing my breasts off this way, but, at the same time, loving
NormanÕs attention.
We walked on. We held hands and I loved the feeling of walking
alongside my favorite professor, with my bosoms bared for his eyes alone.
Brad looked frequently at my chest. I did too; how strange and wonderful
it was to be able to walk with oneÕs breasts unhindered in any way! My
uplifted shirt, tight across my upper body, pressed down on the flesh of
my breasts, distorting them. I knew when I breast-fed a child someday my
own hands would press down on my breasts just like my shirt;
compressing them from above, but squeezing them from below too, to
make milk spout from my nipples. I lifted a hand and cupped my right
breast from below, making a display of one of my teats. Norman noticed. I
had big, fulsome breasts, with pertly uplifted nipples.
ÒYou put other girls to shame with those tits,Ó Norman said.
ÒYour wife has pretty ones,Ó I said.
ÒMy wife is pretty, but so are you,Ó Norman answered.
A stream crossed our path. We stopped before it. I knelt along its
bank and looked at the clear water. Norman stood over me, father-like. I
put my hand into the stream, wetting my fingers, and drew out a shiny
pebble.
ÒLook!Ó I said. I held up the pebble for Norman to see. He took it
from my hand. He smiled. He put it in his pocket, even though it was still
wet from the stream. Then he bent low over me and took hold of my shirt.
ÒIÕm going to undress you here,Ó Norman said. To my gasping
surprise, he quickly removed my shirt. Then he made me stand, and he
unzipped my skirt in behind as I stood facing the stream. He dropped both
my shirt and skirt to the ground. Then, grasping my panties, he pulled
them down off my bottom. He whistled. ÒYour ass is more beautiful than I
imagined,Ó Norman told me. He left my panties ringing my thighs. ÒIÕll
walk you home this way,Ó Norman said.
ÒWith my panties around my legs?Ó I blurted.
ÒYes,Ó Norman said. ÒPut your free hand on them to keep them there,
around your legs, but donÕt pull them up.Ó
ÒBecause I wish it,Ó Norman answered. ÒAs we walk back to the
house, and you feel the cool air of the woods on your naked ass, I want you
to think how warm your bottom would feel if I gave it a spanking.Ó
ÒOh,Ó I managed to say. Then, looking at ÔmyÕ clothes on the ground,
which were really the clothes heÕd bought for me, I asked, ÒWhat about my
skirt, and my top?Ó
ÒLeave them,Ó Norman said. ÒI want people to know that somebody
undressed a young girl in the woods.Ó
ÒThey might think someone was kidnapped,Ó I said.
ÒSo they might,Ó Norman answered.
He took my hand. We walked back to his house. All the way I was
blushing, worried that someone might see us, especially me, with my
naked ass and tits so obviously on display. My bush wettened and I knew
Norman had me completely in his grip now. I would do anything he asked,
if only to still the unbearable sensuousness that now burned inside me.
We returned to the little girlÕs bedroom. I marvelled at how
everything in it was new; it had all been purchased for me. Norman let go
of my hand and I stood uncertainly, impressed, and a little frightened,
actually, at the lengths he and his wife had gone to in order to make me
their daughter.
ÒCan you draw?Ó Norman asked me.
ÒA little,Ó I said. ÒBut I havenÕt drawn much since... since I was
about 12-years-old.Ó
ÒThatÕs okay,Ó Norman said. He pointed to the easel. ÒI want you to
try. Do your best. Draw me a picture.Ó
I wandered over to the easel. I was sucking my finger and, when I
noticed it, I quickly pulled my finger out of my mouth. I looked down into
the tray in front of the easel. There was colored chalk there. It was all
new.
ÒDraw me a picture of yourself,Ó Norman, standing behind me, by the
bed, asked.
ÒOf myself?Ó I asked. Tentatively I picked up an orange piece of
chalk. I took it with the finger that had been in my mouth. My finger was
still wet and, as I balanced the chalk between my finger and thumb, I
noticed some of the orange chalk melted onto my fingertip.
ÒDraw yourself just as you are now, with your panties pulled down
to your legs,Ó Norman said. ÒBut I want you to draw your bottom as it will
look after youÕve had your first spanking.Ó
Instinctively I reached behind myself with my free hand. I grabbed
at my ass. The cheeks felt warm within, but cool at the surface, where
my skin had been cooled by air of the woods.
ÒYou mean?Ó I asked. I had a white ass. My skin was tanned but I
liked leaving my tits and ass covered, so that, when I undressed, I had
alluringly white bosoms, set off from the rest of me, and a white behind.
ÒYes. Color it red. Red-streaked, actually, because I am going to
employ a cane.Ó
ÒOh!Ó I cried. I turned and looked at Norman with frightened eyes.
ÒNot blood red. I wonÕt let your skin be broken. Just red from being
hit,Ó Norman said.
ÒThen I am to be punished?Ó I asked, my voice awkward.
ÒOnly if you break the rules,Ó Norman said. I clutched my bottom and
answered,
ÒThen I shall have to be extra careful.Ó
Norman grinned. ÒRules are made to be broken,Ó he replied.
I had just completed my picture, and been complimented on it by
Norman, when his wife walked into the room.
ÒWell, well, I see you two have got started already,Ó Heather said.
There was an undisguised note of jealousy in her voice. I snapped my head
around. I flushed instantly; imagine being discovered by the wife of your
love with nothing on, and your panties around your knees!
ÒYour husband...Ó I began, defensively.
ÒYou mean your daddy?Ó Heather asked, arching an eyebrow. I
blushed more deeply and then managed to stammer:
ÒSo you know.Ó
ÒOf course,Ó Heather said. ÒI brought the cane.Ó She stepped fully
within the room, wearing a Japanese-print shirt and tap pants. In her hand
was a long, whippy cane. It had a tip like a pool cue, that was made of
brass. The rest of the stick was sheathed in black leather.
ÒWhatÕs for dinner, darling?Ó Norman asked. He feigned nonchalance,
but I saw that a large bulge had appeared in the front of his slacks.
ÒChinese,Ó Heather said. She reached up and fingered the top button
on her Japanese print shirt. It, like her tap pants, was made of silk.
Pressing hard into it was the curvaceous swell of her bosoms. I could
make out the outline of her nipples beneath the fabric. Looking down, I
saw her navel and, beyond that, her bush in her tap pants.
Slowly, Heather unbuttoned her blouse. I stood transfixed, my chalk
in my hands. Behind me the picture IÕd drawn showed how IÕd look when
the cane Heather held had been applied. I was scared; but the sight of
Heather undoing her top was beautiful. She had a lovely, no-nonsense
approach to stripping that captivated me with its direct approach. When
all the buttons on HeatherÕs blouse had been undone she reached up and
yanked back both halves. Her bosoms, liberated, shook in the air. I felt
Norman, beside me, gazing with awe at his wifeÕs sumptuous tits. Heather
let the shirt, which was long, remain tucked in her tap pants. The result
was that, though it was unbuttoned, and pulled open to display her
cleavage, HeatherÕs shirt was in no hurry to come off. She advanced
toward me and I drew back a little. Norman stopped my retreat. Heather
caught me by one of my nipples and gently tugged upon it.
ÒCome, you must have a light caning before dinner, to give you
something to occupy your mind,Ó Heather told me.
ÒOh! I donÕt need--Ó I began.
ÒYes you do,Ó Heather said. ÒAll through dinner I donÕt want you
thinking about your home, your life, your job at school, or anything else
like that. I want you to concentrate solely on your bottom.Ó
ÒWhy?Ó I blurted. Heather drew me implacably toward the bed.
ÒBecause itÕs a part of you thatÕs normally private,Ó Heather said.
ÒHere, tonight, this weekend, we shall explore and delve into and expose
the private. You will think constantly about some private aspect of
yourself while youÕre here. Your tits, your ass, even your cunt and your
mouth.Ó
I stumbled in my new sneakers as I was drawn to the bed.
ÒOuch!Ó I cried, for Heather held my nipple, and as I toppled her hand,
gripping my tit, caught me. It caused a sharp pain as my nipple was
stretched.
ÒCareful, darling,Ó Heather said. Her eyes showed mirth. She was
amused by how IÕd saved myself by my nipple, but I wasnÕt. It hurt!
I reached the bed. Heather let go of my tit. My panties still ringed
my thighs and I sleeked them down past my knees, buying time for myself
as I took them off. I stood on one foot at a time as I pulled the panties
over my sneakers. Then, holding them up, dangling them by one finger, I
asked in all innocence:
ÒWhere should I put these?Ó
Heather looked at her husband. Then she looked again at me. She
flexed the cane she was holding.
ÒIn your mouth,Ó Heather said. I gaped. I looked at Norman but he
only grinned at me. His eyes glinted lasciviously. The bulge in his pants
was even bigger than before.
Heather plucked the panties out of my fingers. I was still staring
dumbly, my mouth open, and Heather used the opportunity to pop my
panties right between my open lips. I made a sound like one makes at the
dentist, when wads of cotton are being stuffed into oneÕs mouth. Heather
adjusted the wad in my mouth with her fingers, then bade me shut my lips.
I didnÕt, so she compressed my lips together with her fingers. Then she
placed a single upright finger over my closed mouth and said,
ÒShhhhh!Ó
I stared at Heather. My cheeks bulged with my panties. I tasted my
excitement on the cloth, which now pressed against my tongue. My saliva
mingled with the juice from my pussy that had impregnated itself in the
cloth of my undies.
Not knowing what to do, but glancing fearfully at the cane, I turned
and put one of my knees onto the bed.
ÒNo, No,Ó Heather said. ÒYour bed has headrails and footrails,
darling. A girl is not caned in bed when she can properly present herself
at the foot of it. Come,Ó Heather insisted. She reached to grab me by a
nipple again but I clapped my hands over my bosoms. Heather pointed to
the foot of the bed. I scurried down there before her cane found me
disobedient. I stood nervously by the brass railing that marked the end of
the bed. My hands touched and I wrung them together with nervous
apprehension. ÒPresent,Ó Heather said. She took me by my shoulder and
turned me. I was grateful she hadnÕt grabbed one of my nipples again.
Heather put me so that I faced in toward the bed. She placed each of my
hands along the top crossbar of the brass footrail. Then, commanding me
to keep a firm hold on the bedrail, Heather placed a palm under my tummy
and pushed my hips back. My bottom was lifted and displayed. Heather
told me to spread my legs.
ÒStand with your knees locked, your legs nice and straight,Ó Heather
advised me. I did as she said. I felt woefully exposed, my bush freely
pursed and displayed between my legs, my cleft rump offered to NormanÕs
eyes, who stood over by the easel, watching me intently. I felt silly with
my pale bottom sticking out like that.
NormanÕs Story:
I gazed at the young girl. She was still a child, really. I felt
slightly guilty as I watched my wife place her into position for her first
caning. The girl had never so much as been spanked in her life! I might
have put her over my knee, earlier, and done the honors myself, but I
enjoyed too much the spectacle of my wife initiating her into bondage.
One woman doing another was even more of a thrill to me than me doing it
myself. And weÕd known other girls. IÕd been more dominant then. Now I
felt it was my wifeÕs turn to have the whip hand.
Emily stared back at me. There was trepidation in her eyes and she
could not hold her ass still, though my wife scolded her and told her to not
move her bottom around. She was wiggling it; as if she were impatient to
join some dance. God! She would be dancing soon, though she knew little
yet of that. I honestly think she was assuming IÕd fuck her now. She had
told sheÕd be caned but, for some reason, seeing how hard I was, she
mistook that she was being made to pose with her legs apart for my dick.
No, no, sweet little one. I would not be cumming for several hours, if I
could help it. I was strong and athletic but I wasnÕt 18, which was the
approximate age of the other boys sheÕd known. Plus, I was old enough to
know how to savor my cum. I had no teenage boyÕs need to just squirt it
out the minute a girl became receptive. Hell, I had a wife. If IÕd needed to
I could have fucked her before this poor thing arrived. Yet Emily persisted
in thinking I was like a teenager, eager to spend.
Now she is smiling at me. ThereÕs still that awkward fear in her
eyes, but she is showing off her cunt to me and inviting me to have her.
Poor baby! It is the cane you will have, donÕt you STILL understand that?
How subtle and beautiful my wife is as she whispers in EmilyÕs ear and
coaxes the girl to display herself even more brazenly. Ah, such a small,
delicately-lipped cunt my sweet pupil has! I loved her the minute I laid
eyes on her in class. She was so coy at first. It took half a semester to
get her here but now here she is, misunderstanding my intentions, thinking
IÕm about to fuck her when in fact it is seeing her tormented by my wife
that truly interests me.
ÒYes, thatÕs fine,Ó my wife tells Emily at last. She gives the girlÕs
bottom a gentle pat with her hand. The girl flinches and bites her lip.
How silly she looks with her panties stuffed in her mouth.
ÒTie her,Ó I say. My wife looks at me. Emily looks at me. I smile at
Emily and put my hand to my groin. I unzip myself, to let her think sheÕs
about to be fucked. Her eyes widen. My wife smiles and goes to a chest of
drawers. Amidst underwear in a drawer that is the style little girls wear,
Heather finds what she is looking for. Emily, all the while, keeps her eyes
on me, showing me her bottom as I draw out my dick and display it for her
eyes. I rub it, briefly. God! That feels so good! Emily smiles and licks her
lips.
HeatherÕs Story:
I feel a wetness in my tap pants. How tight they are-- bunched up
within the folds of my slit, rubbing me whenever I walk. Does my husband
notice? He bought these for me. DidnÕt he know they were too small? And
where did he ever find such small tap pants, anyway? I have nice hips but
theyÕre not as wide as some womenÕs.
Oh, look how little Emily is waggling her bottom at my husband! And
licking her lips! The little slut-- sheÕd have happily seen me off for the
weekend and stayed here all by herself, with my love, and fucked him silly.
Oh, I feel so jealous! Wait Ôtil this little tramp feels my cane whacking
her hot, wanton ass. Then sheÕll wish sheÕd never seduced her professor.
I tied one of EmilyÕs wrists to the brass crossbar. I used a long
black rope to do it. She looked up into my eyes as I secured her wrist. I
ignored her beseeching gaze and went about tying her other wrist in the
same fashion. Then I went to the drawer again. I returned with a black
cloth which I bound over EmilyÕs lips, to keep her from spitting out her
panties. Next I fetched a spreader bar. I telescoped it open and knelt
down at EmilyÕs feet. I latched both her ankles into the barsÕ cuffs. The
bar, locked in place, kept EmilyÕs feet wide apart. She could no longer
bring her legs together. She was ready.
I sighed. This girl had taken a lot of work already, and I hadnÕt even
delivered a single thing to her hiney yet. Did she realize, I wondered, how
much effort I was going to expend this weekend keeping her properly in
her place as a well-punished slave? Probably not, a voice told me. She
may even hate you.
I stared at the pale orb of her bottom. How perfectly round it was--
like a wonderful ripe peach! The cleft invited exploration. I ran my finger
down through her bottomcrack. How she shivers! She seems worried that
my sharp fingernail might cut her skin.
EmilyÕs Story:
ÒIÕm going to give you your first spanking now, Emily. With this
cane,Ó Heather said to me. I blanched. I felt my blood rush through me and
my tummy swam with fright. She really meant it! I thought she had just
been teasing. I had drawn the picture, sure, but I thought it was just a
tease, like a scary movie. I looked frantically at Heather, then at her
husband. They were both nonplussed. It seemed not a big deal to them,
save for the stiffness of HeatherÕs nipples and NormanÕs cock. It was a
diversion, nothing more. I realized with dismay that this wasnÕt the first
time theyÕd done this. And I knew, then, that I wasnÕt the first girl theyÕd
done it to.
Heather stepped back. She measured the cane across my bottom. She
looked into my eyes and said, ÒWeÕll be having company for dinner, Emily.
I expect you to sit still at dinner, do you understand? YouÕre a big girl.
Just because youÕve been caned doesnÕt mean you canÕt be on your best
behavior. No squirming in your seat, or complaining that your bottom
hurts, which it most certainly will, but not in any way that you canÕt
handle.Ó
She swung the cane back and held it ready, poised to strike. She
studied my face, then my ass, with her eyes. My bosoms hung free, my
nipples stiff with fear and arousal.
ÒHere goes,Ó Heather said.
THWACK!
I screamed into my gag. I shot up on tiptoe. Ah, how it burns! It
feels like a hot poker has been applied lengthwise to my bottom. As soon
as IÕve tried to stretch my legs to the ceiling, I feel my knees buckle. I
cannot break free of the bedrail. I canÕt close my legs. I dip my ass and
cry at the ceiling as my bent, stooping legs bend down in a squat. I shake
my ass to throw off as best I can the sting of the cane.
ÒOne,Ó Heather announces. Her voice has no emotion to it. She could
be counting boxcars on trains for all the emotion she displays. Is it
because sheÕs trying to be cool, or has this happened so often for her that
sheÕs actually bored by having to punish me?
THWACK! The cane strikes again. I blurt out a keening whine and
stretch like a wounded giraffe toward the ceiling, only to break again into
a knee-bending, ass shaking crouch. Behind me I sense Norman
masturbating himself as he watches me brazenly jerk my ass all over the
place. Oh, God! Not only does this hurt, itÕs the most humiliating thing
IÕve ever done in my life! How in GodÕs name did I get myself into this
mess?
30
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