Andrew Roller Presents NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS in AMSTERDAM DAMSELS Chapter Two I served them at dinner. They made me pin up my hair. To give me elegance, allure; despite my lowly status as a slave-maid. My hair hung in yellow goldspun curls down round my childish cheeks. My cheeks were puffy and youthful, my mouth a rosebud of innocent pleasure. My eyes were wide. Dinner was but a prelude. We would play with whips afterward. My bottom would glow and burn and I would scream more loudly than before. It was the new couple. Sir L had recommended me to them. They had called Cybil, paid well for me. In advance. I had been submissive. I had not resisted the Ôassignment.Õ I had their money in my purse. They did not know that. I planned to go home as soon as we were finished. Trembling, I held the tray bearing the husbandÕs liquor. His wife gazed at me. There was a pleased look on her face. A black choker secured itself around my neck. It suggested my status. Gold earrings dangled from my ears to show I was no ordinary maid. The woman had received me at the door, shown me into a guest bedroom. There the maidÕs uniform had been laid out for me upon the bed. She had hesistated, looking at the uniform sheÕd bought, from a costume shop, and wondered aloud if she should give me earrings too. IÕd worn only little drop earrings, faux pearls. They would give me everything I needed, or nothing at all. ÒI suppose,Ó she mused. ÒYou are so pretty. I did not expect a girl as pretty as you.Ó She paused. ÒOr so young.Ó She had predatory eyes. She was approaching 30. Her breasts were firm still but even if they remained so she wished to bear children within the year. That wish would change her. She would gain weight irretrievably in carrying her young and afterward the weight would stay, expanding her hips and dragging down her breasts. ÒI suppose I could give you earrings. Just to wear, of course dear,Ó she added. ÒOf course,Ó I murmured. Her eyes flicked over my body, sizing it up. I sensed a touch of jealousy. I was a decade and a half away from having to choose between children and a career, between children and my looks. ÒPut on the uniform, then come out and serve us at dinner,Ó she said. ÒI have dinner almost ready. You need only to serve it. My husband will be present, of course. He should be home from work any moment.Ó She gazed at my trim hips. ÒDo not wear the dress. Just the panties, the blouse, the stockings, the shoes. Leave the dress off. In the course of dinner you will, of course, lose your panties.Ó Her eyes gazed at my waist and then rose to my own eyes, captured them and held them intently. ÒI trust there are no misunderstandings?Ó she asked. She waited for me to reply but I did not. ÒYou will be whipped after dinner. It will not be gentle.Ó Her eyes flicked down again, cast themselves along the contours of my immature hips and then, with a slight arch of her head, catching a glimpse of my high, round bottom. ÒI wish you were not so young,Ó she murmured. Her eyes flicked to my breasts, so big and heavy, and I saw the jealousy return. ÒThen he will impregnate me. DonÕt expect anything but payment for your services. No...Ó her voice trailed off. ÒSperm.Ó ÒYes,Ó I gasped. My heart was fluttering. I wriggled my hips and wondered why I was here. Did I wish to be whipped? I did not know. I liked playing submissive. And yet, and yet... it would hurt! I knew it would hurt and yet IÕd let Cybil call a cab for me, and IÕd come, IÕd rung the doorbell. And now, waiting on the bed for me, was a maidÕs uniform with a short dress that I would not be permitted to wear. I bent and served the gentleman his liquor. It was SeagramÕs Extra Dry Lime Twisted Gin. Cheap stuff. The meal was pretty but simple. They were not wealthy. They lived only in a small townhouse and had waited til their neighbors went on vacation to call for me. The man, at least, was worth the visit. I felt a wetness in my panties as I bent and poured out his gin into his glass from a big heavy bottle. He was perhaps 35, only a policeman, but he lifted weights every morning and he had a face like Tom Cruise. ÒDonÕt bother to carry the bottle back to the kitchen,Ó he said to me. He smelled fresh from the shower and he took the big bottle from my hands. He set it down next to his glass, intending to drink all of it. ÒWhere is your skirt?Ó he asked. He hooked a finger in my undiesÕ waistband and pulled me close. I did not answer. Instead I bit my lip. ÒYou do not have the right to remain silent at my dinnertable,Ó he said gruffly to me. ÒI would have to arrest you for dressing this way anyplace but here.Ó ÒI know,Ó I answered. Then I tossed my head. I looked into his hero-like face. ÒYour wife made me do it,Ó I said. ÒBlaming another?Ó he said accusingly. ÒI do not like that.Ó He traced the waistband of my panties back behind me and then suddenly, he yanked down the back of them. ÒYou may as well show your ass if youÕre not going to bother putting on a dress,Ó he said. Gently he palmed my seat. His hand cupped each of my hinds in turn and squeezed it. I had a childÕs bottom. It was not difficult for him to hold half my pumpkin in his palm. I bent slightly as he cupped me. I let my weight rest seductively in his palm. Then I squirmed a little to tempt him. ÒI will have to punish this naughty ass of yours,Ó he said to me. ÒYes,Ó I breathed. A breathy-sigh. A sigh of satisfaction and submission. ÒBut not now,Ó he said. He upped me to a straight-legged position with a gentle boosting of his palm. He drew his hand away and then gave me a fatherly slap on my heinie. ÒGo and get our food. IÕm hungry.Ó I tossed my head again, feigning confidence despite the hordes of butterflies let loose within my tummy. I could feel his eyes watching me as I walked away from him. I gave my bottom an extra, exaggerated roll as I walked. I reached back behind myself and, daring him, insisting on modesty, I pulled up the seat of my panties. I heard his wife start to speak but he must have stopped her, for nothing was said. No words of reproach were given. Girl-like, tempting yet pure, I retreated to the kitchen. I checked my hair in a mirror. I loved the attention he gave me. I took lipstick from a drawer, traced my lips again with it. A little makeup kit was secreted in the kitchen, for maids who visited. I smacked my lips to wet them. Excellent. He was so handsome, yet so much older than me. I knew I should be home, doing my schoolwork, thinking only of boys in my grade. But I loved the thrill I felt in his presence. I took a turkey from the oven, placed it on top of the stove. I straightened my top. I wore no maidÕs bib around my waist. I had to be careful not to spill anything for it would fall directly on me, or my panties. They were already too wet, with my own juices. A pot with gravy in it simmered atop the oven. I dipped a plastic squirt bottle in it. I squirted gravy over the turkeyÕs golden outer surface to give it a hint of extra flavor. Then I hefted up the turkey and walked from the kitchen out to the dining room. Ted (that was the policemanÕs name) and his wife Sheryl sat spooning soup into their mouths. They looked up. TedÕs eyes drank in my figure. I let my hips roll with my desire as I approached them. I tossed back the dangling blonde curls of my coiffure from my face and set the turkey down upon the table between them. I placed it from SherylÕs side of the table, so Ted wouldnÕt pull my panties down again. ÒWait,Ó Sheryl said as I straightened from a bent-forward pose, letting go the turkey. She caught the front of my bodice with her hand. It was low-cut, offering a glimpse of my mammaries. They brooded bulgingly within it, stretching the fabric to the limit. It was black, felt like satin to the touch. White lace decorated the fabric where it crossed over my bosoms. The sleeves were half satin, half lace, the satin part sheathing my upper arms, the lace my lower. Bows made from the satin hung temptingly from my elbows. They dangled like black streamers, catching the eye and waving behind me when I walked. Sheryl yanked down the front of my bodice. My boobs spilled out. She let go of it and it sprung up, unable to cover me now it hugged my bosoms and sqeezed them together and pushed them up. I wore no bra. My nipples sprouted hard and tempting from my tits. Delicately Sheryl stroked a nipple with her fingertip, letting just the sharp end of her nail pass over it, underneath it. ÒHave you ever thought of having these pierced?Ó she asked me as I gazed down at my newly exposed breasts. ÒYes, no!Ó I bit my lip. I had thought of it but certainly didnÕt want to admit it! Not here, not with them. I raised my eyes and saw Ted gazing at my bitten lip. ÒYou do not have the right to remain silent at my dinnertable,Ó he reminded me. ÒOr to lie.Ó A pinch at one of my nipples. I dropped my eyes from his gorgeous face back to my utterly vulnerable breasts. ÒYes, I have thought of it, but--Ó I watched as his wife seized my other nipple and pinched it. ÒOoch!Ó I gasped. ÒI am only to be whipped!Ó I blurted. They had paid for nothing more. A sound from the kitchen. I realized at once what it was, as did Sheryl. The gravy pot was overflowing. IÕd forgotten to turn off the heat under it. ÒGo and get the gravy!Ó Sheryl hissed at me. She let go of my bodice. ÒDo NOT pull it up,Ó she added. I ran to the kitchen. My barely-clad bottom jiggled behind me. The seat of my undies slipped between my cheeks and hid there, showing my bare hinds. Trying not to think about my nipples, I turned off the oven. I lifted the gravy pot and took off the lid and looked inside. The gravy was boiling. I was careful to keep the steam billowing up from the inside of the pot from touching my nipples. I replaced the lid and shuffled out to the dining table with the gravy. ÒYou are letting it drip on the rug!Ó Sheryl scolded me. I had forgotten to wipe the pot. I looked back behind me and saw a trail of gravy spots on the carpet. ÒLet it be, foolish girl. I will clean it later,Ó Sheryl said. ÒBring the gravy. Ted cannot eat his turkey without it. And the stuffing too. Look lively! Hurry, before it all boils over or gets cold.Ó I gave Ted the gravy, not bothering to pour it for him. I rushed back to the kitchen to make sure IÕd not left the stuffing on. It would burn and dry out. I hadnÕt. I breathed a sigh of relief. I brought it out to Ted and let him serve himself. I returned to the kitchen for cranberries. On my way out I grabbed a bottle of red wine for myself and Sheryl. Self-consciously I returned to them, my bosoms preceeding me and announcing themselves with a tempting bounce at every step I took in my black pumps. I put the cranberries on the table and then let Sheryl open the wine with a corkscrew. She returned it to me. I filled her glass and then filled a glass intended for me. Beside it, on a plate, Sheryl had served my food. She was cutting it small, as if for an infant. I eyed my food. Despite my fear at being whipped I was hungry. If I was less experienced I couldnÕt have eaten at all, knowing IÕd be whipped, but IÕd felt the lash enough now that it no longer quelled my appetite. I was growing up, a little. ÒI need a chair,Ó I said. ÒYou do not,Ó Sheryl replied. ÒKneel down. I will feed you.Ó ÒI donÕt want--Ó I began, but she grabbed my already lowered bodice and used it to yank me down to my knees. My breasts wobbled above her gripping fist, supported by her knuckles. They felt like Skeletor bones pressing up into the soft underside of my breasts where they met my torso. I wished for He-Man to rescue me, looked across the table at Ted, lifting myself up a little to do it. He saw my peering eyes. ÒDo as she says,Ó he told me, stuffing turkey in his mouth. I settled on my knees. I placed my palms upon the floor and waited, dog-like, to be fed. With her fingers Sheryl lifted a portion of meat from my plate and dipped it in gravy. Then, the gravy dripping, she set it down again. ÒYou need a bib,Ó Shery said to me. ÒGo to the kitchen and get a bib out of the drawer on the right, next to the refrigerator.Ó I rose up. I turned. Feeling more self-conscious than ever, I reached behind myself to straighten my panties. ÒNo, Melody,Ó Sheryl scolded me. ÒJust do as I tell you. Leave whatever IÕve exposed just as it is.Ó ÒBut--Ó I began. She had not exposed my bottom! My seat had slipped into my crack and left my cheeks hanging out naturally. Then I remembered TedÕs pulling down my panties in back. To spite her, or perhaps to obey, or both, I pulled my undies down in back. I let my bottom show, even the crack, and I gave it a big wiggle to let her know I knew where her husbandÕs eyes were fixed at this moment! Then I took hold of the halves of my pumpkin and leaned forward, feeling my breasts drop down beneath me, and I pulled open my bottom and showed them all I could. ÒExcuse me, I have to fart,Ó I said politely. Knowing Ted was looking at my little butthole, not his beautiful wife, I wiggled my tushy and pretended to let one. Then I stood straight and walked with cultured steps to the kitchen, tossing my blonde hair, letting my hands flit daintily beside me, my fingers bent up to show off the polish on my pretty nails. But I left my panties pulled down, just as she (perhaps) wanted them. I felt the cool air of the room on my bottom and knew, wetting the crotch that still lay snug against my cunt, that I would get extra strokes of the whip for being so wanton. I selected a babyÕs Tweety Bird bib from the drawer and returned with it. I gave it to Sheryl with a diffident air. She ordered me to my knees. Reaching down, her own full bosoms stretching the front of her dress as she bent, Sheryl tied the bib around my neck. ÒI want you to play with yourself as I feed you,Ó she said quietly to me. She adjusted the bib. It was soft and fuzzy against my breasts. It covered them across the top almost completely, leaving my nipples sticking out underneath the bibÕs end. ÒIt is the only enjoyment you will get, IÕm afraid, so put your hand in your panties and rub yourself.Ó I did not protest. I was hungry, and for more than just food. Delicately lifting open the front of my undies, I slipped in my hand. As Sheryl offered me the first tidbit of meat I stroked my labia. My panties hugged my finger and made me press it all the more surely against myself. Lightly I rubbed at first, then more boldly, finding my spot, sinking my finger within my sex. ÒOh!Ó I gasped. ÒChew your food completely before you swallow,Ó Sheryl reminded me. ÒI donÕt want you choking on it. Your lovely throat would be utterly ruined by a tracheotomy, eh Ted?Ó ÒMost surely,Ó Ted grinned. I peeped at him over the tableÕs edge. His eyes glowed at me. I longed for him but turned my face back to Sheryl and accepted another gravy-dipped portion of meat from her. The meal proceeded. Sheryl and Ted chatted quietly about their work to each other. She was a corporate secretary. He was a patrolman. I sensed that she made more money than he did. I sat quietly at SherylÕs feet, eating the bits of meat she fed me. Gravy dripped on my bib. I worried about my nipples. The gravy was hot. They stemmed out from underneath my bib, inviting trouble. ÒAnd how is your new partner at work, dear?Ó Sheryl asked Ted. ÒI donÕt have her anymore,Ó he replied with a touch of glumness. ÒThe Chief made her his personal secretary.Ó ÒShe is so pretty. I hated to see her out on the line,Ó Sheryl replied. ÒShe might get hurt.Ó ÒAnd you want to whip her!Ó Ted laughed. ÒYou wish her saved but not from yourself.Ó ÒWell, IÕm glad sheÕs not riding around with you all day anymore,Ó Sheryl said. ÒYou could still invite her over though, couldnÕt you?Ó ÒYes, I suppose I could,Ó Ted mused. ÒOf course the Chief would kill me if he knew I was porking his secretary. Or paddling her.Ó ÒShe has such a lovely figure. And her face is angelic!Ó Sheryl sighed. She turned to me. ÒRather like yours, dear, except youÕre just a little doggie, arenÕt you?Ó she asked. SheÕd scooped some cranberries into a little bowl for me and she presented it to me with a baby spoon sheÕd been saving beside her plate. I lifted my chin and let her spoon the berries into my mouth. ÒKeep playing with yourself, my little pet,Ó she warned me, seeing my hand motions momentarily slacken. ÒGet those panties off. YouÕve no need to wear them.Ó Obeying her somewhat contradictory orders, I accepted a spoonful of cranberries and then stood up. I peeled my panties off my crotch. Sheryl noticed their wetness, perhaps from my more honeyed scent, for they were black. She caught the liberated gusset between two fingers and rubbed it. ÒMy, youÕve wet them nicely,Ó she cooed. ÒAre you excited?Ó ÒNot really,Ó I lied. ÒGet them down your legs and go take them to Ted,Ó she said. ÒHe likes saving the panties of girls weÕve whipped.Ó I obeyed. With awkward movements of my hands and legs I pulled my panties all the way down to my feet, standing before Sheryl as she sat watching me. Then, lifting my panties up and holding them by a single finger, passed through a leghole, I walked round the table to Ted and presented them to him. ÒMy panties, Sir,Ó I said with delicious abandon. I couldnÕt keep my hips from wiggling once IÕd said it, for he took them very graciously off my finger and stroked them. I loved the sight of his big, calloused hands so gently examining my panties, as if they were fine jewelry. ÒWhen I whip you, you will scream,Ó he said, looking into my eyes. ÒI know,Ó I replied. ÒOpen your mouth. You need a gag,Ó Ted said. ÒBut donÕt I get dessert?Ó I asked. There was a sumptuous chocolate cake in the fridge. ÒYou are the dessert,Ó he answered. He lifted a hand to my lips and pried them apart. Then, with me standing before him looking like I was at some bizarre dentistÕs office, my mouth wide open, my bottom jiggling behind me, knowing how much it would hurt soon, Ted stuffed my panties into my mouth. I tasted myself. I wished I could have his underpants in my mouth instead of my own. ÒLift your leg up. Put your foot on my knee,Ó Ted said. I complied. My legs looked lovely in their long thigh-high stockings. I put a foot, still encased in its pump, on his leg. ÒGet up on the table,Ó he said. He palmed my bare bottom and boosted me up, letting me use his leg as a step to the table. Holding my panties in my mouth, I climbed up onto the table and knelt on it. I found myself poised with my ass stuck in TedÕs face. I could feel his breath on my bottom. I humped it at him. He leaned forward and, cupping my fanny, he kissed each of my nether cheeks. ÒCrawl to the center of the table and lie down,Ó Ted ordered. I scampered into the middle of the table, skirting the turkey that lay half-carved there. Sheryl pulled back some serving dishes and I found I could lie down with the big turkey between my legs. I spread myself out on the table. My bosoms stuck up like captured fruit, caught in the opening made by my pulled-down bodice. My nipples were hard. They looked like cherry stems. I sleeked my hands across my flat tummy. I let a finger wander down into my small thatch of pubic hair between my legs. I dipped it within myself. I rubbed my excited spot. ÒMmmf!Ó I cried within my panty-gag. ÒDo you like being the center of attention, Melody?Ó Sheryl asked me. I nodded. There was a price to be paid for their attention but I craved it anyway. I heard Ted unzip himself as he leaned forward and played with my coiffered blonde curls. ÒSuch a pretty victim,Ó Sheryl cooed. My eyes widened as I saw a knife brought to one of my nipples. Very delicately, for it was the sharp carving knife, Sheryl spread icing from a little bowl over my exposed nipple. Then she moved the knife to the other one and carefully decorated it just like the first. Only the stems of my nipples were iced. The rest she left bare. ÒAnd now for your clit,Ó Sheryl said. I squeezed my eyes tightly shut. I felt a female hand urge my thighs more widely apart and I tried very hard not to resist. It was difficult, for as she spread my legs Sheryl spoke of Ôclitorization.Õ ÒIt does settle the girl down, that at least is a virtue of it,Ó Sheryl said quietly. ÒIt would cut down on teen promiscuity in our country if we practised it here, donÕt you think, Ted?Ó she asked. I felt the blade of the knife touch my nubbin and prayed she would only tease me. Icing smoothed cool across my little fleshy point. ÒYes, I do wish there was some way to get teens to Just Say No,Ó Ted agreed. ÒWell, this little one just needs a little cooling off, I think,Ó Sheryl said. She lifted the knife away from me. I felt the residue of the icing deposited on my spot. It was temptingly cool and I darted a finger down, to check myself, to make sure I was still all there. Catching a drop of icing on my finger, I lifted it from my spot and put it into my mouth. I couldnÕt taste it, because of the gag, but I smoothed it across my spread lips. My red lipstick was glazed with a touch of white. The knife returned to my breast, carrying a new load of icing. Gently Sheryl passed it under my exposed areoles and then over the tops of my breasts. I watched with interest as she iced me. Each time I feared the sharp edge of the knife would cut my tits, but she was careful. When she was finished I had two cream-white cones sticking up out of my bodice. Amazingly, none of the icing had gotten on my maidÕs uniform. ÒLick her tits,Ó Sheryl said to Ted. ÒYou will not be jealous?Ó Ted asked. ÒI am going to ice her cunt and lick that,Ó Sheryl replied. Still wearing his starched suit, that heÕd put on special for dinner, Ted rose and leaned over me. Turning my head slightly I saw that heÕd indeed undone his zipper. His penis stuck out of his pants large and heavy, like the neck of his big gin bottle. He breathed over my face. I smelled lime. He kissed my gagged, parted lips once and then put his 5 oÕ clock shadowed face to my breasts. I felt stubble graze away some of the icing that covered me. A tongue protruded and caught at one of my whitened nipples. ÒOh!Ó I cried. Ted licked my boobs. As he licked, his wife used the sharp carving knife to ice up my cunt. I felt the blade delve within me and ice the lips of my labia. I shivered. My hips wiggled. ÒDonÕt move,Ó Sheryl said. ÒYouÕll be cut if you do.Ó ÒMmmf!Ó I gasped within my gagged mouth. How could I not move when I had such attention being lavished upon me? Still I tried my best to quiet my squirmy young hips. I let Sheryl ice my cunny and then, as her husband continued to lick clean my breasts, suckling them like a babe (though I wore the bib, turned up to show my tits) she devoured my cunt. I writhed with passion. The knife had been withdrawn and I lay like a fish on the table, gasping and squirming. Their tongues assailed me. I felt myself simultaneously suckled and fucked. Sheryl used her tongue like a penis. Ted supped at my dessert-like nipples, savoring their youth and vitality. I was soft in all the right places and hard in the few places a female must be when sheÕs ready for sex. I came quickly. My fingers had brought me close to orgasm but IÕd been embarrassed to go all the way. Now, under SherylÕs seeking tongue, I cried out my pleasure and juiced her quietly feeding mouth. Ted smiled down at me, taking a break from my breasts. He teased my nipples with his fingers as he watched me cum and cum into his wifeÕs licking face. ÒShe is ready for the whip,Ó Sheryl said at last. Ted gathered me limply into his arms. I gasped from my still-near orgasm, too weak to protest. I was carried into their bedroom. There, at the foot of their master bed, stood a wooden trestle. It looked like something you might see on the road to stop traffic. It was made of natural cherry wood and had been covered with a light coat of varnish. Instead of a sign on top, it had a padded cushion. Ted set me down on my feet. He nodded toward the trestle. Trembling, I approached it. I was a big girl now. I didnÕt have to be dragged, or threatened, or cajoled with false promises. I strode up to it, feeling my bare bottom behind me, rolling with my steps. I placed my fingers on the padded top of the trestle. I felt my hips jutting out, my cunny moist, my bottom tense behind me. ÒI suppose this is where the rubber meets the road?Ó I asked, playing coy. ÒJust bend over it. YouÕve been whipped before,Ó Sheryl said implacably, uncaringly. I heard them undressing behind me. I bent forward. I let my bare heinie arch out behind me. I pressed my tummy to the leather cushion, standing on tip-toe for the trestle was a little too big for me. I reached down the front of the trestle and found a grab bar. I clutched at it. I pressed my thighs tightly together and waited. My gold coiffure curls dangled down from my head, pointing at the floor, free of my face at last. ÒOpen your legs!Ó Sheryl barked. I heard a whip crack behind me and flinched, scared for a moment it had hit me. With mounting trepidation I parted my thighs. ÒWider! I can hardly see what youÕve got there,Ó Sheryl tormented me. I let her see the fulness of my fruit, my lightly haired cunny, the pouting lips I so deeply wished Ted would find too inviting to pass up. SWIIIICK! The whip, lifted in a cracking ascent, skirted up the inside of my thigh and grazed my cunny before snapping in the air above my waiting heinie. ÒYes, that is better. How wet you are in between your legs,Ó Sheryl said. ÒTed, arenÕt you going to tie her?Ó ÒOh yeah,Ó Ted answered. He approached me. I felt like a sacrificial lamb waiting for the axe. His penis dangling between his legs, hard and long and pulsing, he bent in his nudity and secured my wrists and ankles with leather straps to the trestle. ÒVery good,Ó Sheryl said. ÒRub yourself while I whip her. I donÕt want you to get any ideas, looking at her bottom.Ó ÒI might spill,Ó Ted warned. ÒNo you wonÕt,Ó Sheryl replied. ÒYouÕre going to rub yourself and IÕm going to rub myself and as soon as little Melody here has gotten what she came for, youÕre going to thrust that lusty spear of yours into my cunt and give me a baby.Ó ÒYes, dear,Ó Ted sighed. It was a trembly-sigh, full of passion, much like the ones that issued from my own throat as I waited for the whip to fall. Oh, it would hurt so badly! I wanted their attention and yet I did not want that whip cracking across my arse. IÕd caught a glimpse of it, coming into the bedroom, looked away. It was a big horse whip, for big girls. It had been coiled over the bedÕs headboard, waiting for me. Now I could hear it slithering across the wooden bedroom floor behind me as Sheryl began to tittilate herself with her fingers. ÒGod, what a lovely white bottom!Ó Sheryl commented. ÒHow sweetly she offers it.Ó ÒWe are not the first to scorch it, IÕm afraid,Ó Ted commented. ÒOh, you men! Always needing to be first,Ó Sheryl scolded. ÒWell, donÕt be first tonight, sir. I expect you to cum in my cunny, not on her fanny or across my thigh.Ó ÒYes, sweetheart,Ó Ted replied. ÒTurn around. I want to give you a few first to make sure you behave,Ó Sheryl said. I heard Ted comply. Suddenly there was a sharp crack and this big tough policeman, who arrested thugs every day and sometimes got beaten and hit by them, but took it as part of his duty, howled like a little boy. Sheryl laughed and I heard TedÕs feet as he danced in place on the floor. I spied a mirror, perhaps placed just for me, and found myself watching his bell-like balls as they jangled between his legs. ÒHereÕs another,Ó I heard Sheryl say, and I saw the whip streak in and hit Ted from behind. He shouted and jumped and his big cock bounced all around, stiff and hard and drooly, flicking his cum around the bedroom. He caught his dick and massaged it furiously with his hand, though it hadnÕt been hit at all, while not bothering to rub his bottom, which surely burned like a hot parking lot. ÒAnd another,Ó Sheryl crowed. ÒYeeeeehooooch!Ó Ted yelled. He grabbed at his dick with both hands and double-fisted it. Why was he rubbing his penis when it was his bottom that hurt? I asked myself. But I had no time to find an answer, for Sheryl, satisfied that Ted would do as she wished, turned to me. I saw her gaze and her grin as she stepped out from behind him and I saw her arm draw back. SWWWWWISH-CRACKKKK! ÒEeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!Ó I cried out in an endless scream. My panties dropped from my mouth. I sobbed out a gasp when my scream ended and felt tears burst from my eyes. A bright scorching line of heat flared across my buns and did not leave me. I tried to wiggle my ass but my posture was so taught and enforced that I could barely move at all, save to try to hump the cushion with my naked pussy. Sheryl savored my pain. She waited while I sobbed and tried to control the heat, vainly, that seared itself across my heinie. Ted rubbed himself, watching me cry, listening to me beg incoherently to be let up. My tears and sobs fouled my speech. ÒShe needs something between her teeth,Ó Sheryl said to Ted. ÒQuit playing with yourself and get a bit for her.Ó ÒYes, dear,Ó Ted said with an eagerness in his voice. I knew it would be a severe whipping if I needed a bit and I begged to be let off. ÒOh please donÕt,Ó I said at last, finding my words again as I struggled in my bonds, pulled taught over the wicked cherry wood trestle. Ted ignored me and placed a bit forcefully between my teeth. It was wide as his cock and it wrenched my lips wide apart. He tied it behind my head with twin leather thongs that dangled helpfully from its ends. ÒOkay, sheÕs bitted,Ó Ted told his wife. ÒGood,Ó Sheryl replied. I heard the whip slither again across the floor and then sing up and back and through the air. A flesh-shattering blow reached my ears as I raised my chin and howled to heaven. My bottom, so cute at dinner, received the blow helplessly, seared by it, burnt by it, a bright red welt forming where moments before IÕd been pretty and pure, cream hinds turning beet red. With a slow deliberate sadism Sheryl took her time whipping me. There was no rush, from her perspective, unless her husband threatened to spill himself. Ted rubbed himself gently, I noted in a mirror, on a rare moment when IÕd found my mind again amidst the bottom-burning pain. He wanted to last at least as long as I did. But I had no choice. I was far from pleasure now, my cunny still honeyed and drippy, but my ass so deep in pain that I could think of nothing but it. A half hour passed. Sheryl gave me a break. She untied my bit and bathed my lips with champagne, urging me to drink from the neck of a bottle. Most of it spattered on the floor, wetting my sex-moistened panties. ÒDrink, darling, it will lessen the pain a little,Ó Sheryl cooed. She lifted my chin sympathetically and poured the champagne as best she could down my throat. I remained bent over the trestle, a small animal tied up for slaughter. The whipping resumed. I tasted new depths of pain as the horsewhip seared its way across my flesh. Sheryl landed several blows on my back and thighs to give my bottom (or what was left of it!) a rest. Suddenly the attention veered from myself to Sheryl. Ted announced that he was on the brink of cumming and she dropped her whip and led him quickly to their bed. The covers already drawn back, she plopped down on it and spread herself for him. ÒImpregnate me with your child,Ó Sheryl hissed at him. ÒYesss,Ó Ted answered. He mounted her and swiftly thrust himself into her waiting dell. As I lay sobbing over the trestle the sounds of their lovemaking tormented my ears. They were long about it. Ted had enormous fortitude. He rodded her fiercely and deeply and did not spurt for what seemed the longest time, despite SherylÕs whore-like encouragements, thrusting her hips up at him, begging him, needing him, swearing that she would punish him if he didnÕt release his seed at once into her. When they were done they lay in the bed and talked and kissed and caressed each other. They were like Olympic victors on some obscene relay team. She felt pregnant, she told him. He assured her she must certainly be. He grew hard again and he re-mounted her and gave her another pounding. Deep in the night, Ted rose and untied me. Sheryl lay sleeping in the bed. I could not rise from the trestle, despite being untied, and he let me hang over it. He brought balms and creams and ointments and smoothed them over my still-burning flesh. His calloused palms punished my bottom anew but I was grateful for the cream. When he was done, he found himself hard again. ÒDonÕt tell Sheryl,Ó he whispered to me. I cut off a sob by biting my lip. ÒYou have the right to remain silent,Ó he said, caressing my child-like chin. Then he mounted me from behind, finding my slot, still wet with my dew, renewed by his rubbings. He stuck himself into my tightness as best he could and fucked me like a sack of potatoes, for I was too weak too move. Thrusting his hairy belly and hips against my bottom tortured it anew, but I longed for him. He got his entire length up me and did me for what seemed like hours, for his desperation was gone now. Rid of the worst of his load, he could pleasure himself in me without spurting, despite my girlish tightness and my infant-like sobs. At last, as morning approached and Sheryl tossed in the bed, threatening to wake, Ted spurted his seed deep inside me. I received him gratefully. He kissed my face and left me just as Sheryl opened her eyes. ÒMmmm, did you fuck me last night?Ó she asked. She gazed up at the ceiling, lying listlessly in bed. She felt her sex. ÒI hurt.Ó ÒYes, I fucked you last night,Ó Ted answered. He stole into bed beside her and kissed her. ÒOh, yes. Now I remember. How is that poor girl doing? WhatÕs her name?Ó ÒMelody,Ó Ted replied. ÒWe must put some cream on her bottom,Ó Sheryl said, sitting up. ÒI already have,Ó Ted answered. I left them later that day, after breakfast. My bottom was not irremedially ruined, just welted. Sheryl told me the welts would sink back into my skin in a week or so. I got into the cab that came for me with an excess of wiggling, was forced to sit on my hip. ÒWhere to?Ó the cabman asked. He noticed my odd posture in the back seat but said nothing about it. ÒThe airport,Ó I gasped. ÒYou are leaving our wonderful country?Ó he said, noticing I had not the typical Dutch accent to my English. ÒI am,Ó I breathed. ÒItÕs a long flight. I hate sitting on those transatlantic flights. Much better to take a short hop to Italy or to Sweden.Ó I considered. ÒYouÕre right,Ó I said. ÒHow about London? Is that a long flight?Ó ÒNope,Ó he said. ÒHave you ever seen the Tower of London? Pretty cool, but not for the people they kept there.Ó I gasped, tried to sit on my heinie. I barely managed it. ÒNever mind London, then,Ó I said. ÒDo you have a phone?Ó ÒSure,Ó he said. He lifted a cellphone up from the seat beside him. ÒCall the airport,Ó I said, pausing to draw a breath as my injured bottom settled into the seat. The cab hit a bump and I gasped. The driver gazed at me, at my bra-less breasts inside my white blouse that jiggled. I wanted to lift my hands to the little blue jacket I wore and button it over my blouse but I had to keep them pressed flat to the seat to help out my bottom. ÒCall the airport, and book me a flight straight to Utah.Ó ÒUtah?Ó the driver asked. ÒThereÕs no Tower of London in Utah, or much else. Just a big inland sea of EpsomÕs Salt.Ó ÒI know, but thatÕs what I need just now,Ó I replied. THE END ----------------------- Fuck Decency! ----------------------- -Free Fuck Decency e-mail subscriptions: send (18 or up) age statement to: roller666@aol.com -To unsubscribe: Send $100.00 to The North American Man/Boy Love Association, P.O. Box 174, Midtown Station, New York, NY 10018. -My ftp site is: members.aol.com/roller666 Diapergirls! (CuntCastle2d) -My ftp site is: members.aol.com/roller6666 CuntCastle3b here! -My ftp site is: members.aol.com/nnd666 NudieNursery5 here! -Recent back issues at Usenet newsgroup: alt.poop? -For all back issues, send e-mail to: file.request@backdrop.com -Fuck Decency: http://members.aol.com/nnd6/fuckdecency.html -Free minicomics: send a stamped, self-addressed envelope & age statement to: Jim Corrigan, P.O. Box 3663, Phenix City, AL 36868 -Naughty Naked Dreamgirls (Library of Congress ISSN: 1070-1427) is copyright 1996 and a trademark of Andrew Roller. -END OF ftp EMISSION