From roller666@aol.com Sat May 03 19:23:36 1997
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From: roller666@aol.com (ROLLER 666)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: rare dreamgirls 1
Date: 3 May 1997 23:23:36 GMT
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ATTENTION FELLOW FOLLOWERS OF CHRIST
I have taken possession of Roller's hard disk and am ferreting
through the contents thereof. Herewith is a sample, previously
undiscovered, of the depths of his perversion. (It is my understanding
that a.s.s. stands for Apostles of Saintliness and Sanctity, hence I post
it here.) (cc to the a.s.s. mailing list).
The Honorable Reverend Throttle,
First Pruditerian Church
Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
"temptress"
Chapter One
I got my very own card to the health club on my fifteenth
birthday. It was a relief to me. Lots of cute guys went there, but I
couldn't go, because if you weren't fifteen you were considered too young.
Maybe they were afraid I'd meet somebody. Well, I did meet someone. But
it wasn't a pervert. It was a woman.
I still remember my first day, marching in there, presenting my
card, proud at last not to be stuck in day care while my dad worked out.
He didn't go much anymore, which I was quite thankful for. It's no fun
having your dad looking over your shoulder, "monitoring" everyone you talk
to. He'd gone when I was younger; eight, nine, leaving me with the kids
and the fat woman in the back, playing Candyland. Then he'd gotten busy
at work, and divorced my mom. I hardly ever saw him anymore. It was fine
with me. I think he was, at the moment, having an affair with one of his
secretaries.
I surveyed the vast assembly of machines. So many! And lots of
sweaty guys pouring over their workout. I decided to begin with the
stair-stepper machine. I got up on it. There was a woman beside me,
blonde, with long tresses down to her waist. I tried to get my machine
started. I couldn't make it go.
"Would you like some help?" the blonde beside me asked. I
blushed.
"I guess so," I replied. I realized as she bent close to help
that she was younger than I'd thought, perhaps only a few years older than
me! But her demeanor was one of utter assurance, complete sophistication.
She had a light Swedish accent. I smelled her perfume. It was
delicious, like crushed rose petals; light, airy, yet with just a scent of
menace, as if any man who let himself slip into her grasp would never
escape her long, fine fingers.
With her polished nails she deftly entered the needed codes for
my machine. She asked if I were a beginner. I nodded, embarrassed to
admit that I was so new at this.
"It's okay," she smiled. A radiant, sunshiny smile. Her eyes
smouldered. Distant thunderclouds hovered beyond her pupils. "I just
joined last month. It took me awhile to learn all this myself. There!
Five minutes. That should do you. I'll bet you'll be winded after that,
but don't worry, you'll build up your endurance as time goes by."
"Thanks," I said. There was nothing in her eyes but female
companionship, I decided. I'd found a new friend.
We worked out together, and sure enough, after five minutes I was
pooped.
"Too many afternoons at home watching Gullible's Island," my new
friend smiled at me. I nodded my agreement, my breath gasping.
"There are other things you can try," she smiled, her eyes
glancing toward the guys in the free weight room. I shook my head 'no.'
"Shy?" she asked.
"Yeah," I replied.
"I'm Kali," she told me. Her voice was sweet. Her eyes beckoned
me to cast away my fears.
"I'm Melody," I replied. I walked away. I put a finger to my
mouth, contemplating. I think she watched me, going. I wanted her to
watch. With her eyes behind me I went where I'd said I wouldn't, to the
free weight room. I guy said hello to me. He helped me lift up a barbell
and do curls with it.
I met Kali a lot at the gym, in the ensuing days. I met some
guys too. They were mostly older. They helped me, but seemed afraid to
ask me out. Jailbait, you know. But I enjoyed their attention.
Kali and I were on the stair-steppers together about two weeks
later. It was early evening, a Saturday. There was a World Series
Playoff going on at the time, so only a few people were at the gym. Kali
and I had the entire row of stairsteppers to ourselves.
"Do you go to college?" I asked her.
"Nope," she replied. There was a smile on her face that hid a
secret.
"You work?" I asked. She always had very cool gym clothes.
"Hmm," she said, half-nodding, dropping her eyes to her
stair-stepper, as if to study the codes entered there.
"What do you do?" I asked.
"I'm a sexual torturess," she replied. Her eyes met mine, blazed
a moment, held me. I was unmoved at first, then the words sank in. A
little gasp slipped out of my throat. I did not know if I'd heard her
right. Had I?
"A what?" I asked. She could see my cheeks had acquired a flush.
"A sexual torturess," she said again, firmly.
"What's that?" I murmured, mouthed, afraid, tantalized.
"People pay me to torment them," Kali replied. Her words were
graceful, smooth. "Their genitals, you know, naked and all that." She
gave the seat of her bottom a little slap.
"Like-like a whore?" I asked. I was somewhere between
Never-Never Land and the Twilight Zone, my mind drifting, my spine
tingling.
"A trollop," she smiled. It sounded 'lollipop.' "But with
special powers," she added.
"Like..." my voice trailed off. I'd heard stories, rumors at
school, about people...what they did...what adults did.
"Yes," she laughed. Her voice was high, childish.
"But--How old are you?" I asked.
"Seventeen," she said. Yes, she'd told me that yesterday.
"You're too young to be a prostitute!" I blurted.
"Shhh!" A finger to her lips. "Nobody is too young or too old to
be a prostitute, dear. It's illegal, don'cha know. Anyway, that's the
customer's problem, not mine."
"Yes, I guess it is," I breathed. I did not know whether to keep
stair-stepping or go running out the door. Only two years older than me,
and she was an accomplished whore!
"I'm flying to Europe next week," Kali said softly. "Would you
like to cum?" I swear that's exactly how she said it.
"I-I don't know," I replied. But I already did. My mind
swirled. In my head I said 'no,' but my conscience must have been
speaking very softly. "Yes," came out. At least I think it did.
Thinking back, I might have actually said 'no.' But that wouldn't have
mattered. Not to someone like Kali.
***
We stood before a large wooden door. We were in Belgium. "The
cherry of Europe," Kali had told me it was called. Belgium, that is.
Well, it had one more cherry now. Me. Not my cunt, though. I'd lost
that cherry a year ago, with an ambitious boy in junior high. But my
virgin butt, as Kali was quick to teach me, counted as a cherry too. And
my mouth. "Two out of three isn't bad," she'd smiled at me on the plane.
"Two more than I have." I liked her. She was frank, yet elegant. I
could discuss the most intimate things with her without feeling dirty.
Naughty, maybe, but not dirty. I'd asked her a lot on the plane. She'd
told me incredible things, said that was just a little of what I'd know if
I stuck with her. Well, I was stuck with her now, at least for this trip.
She was totally paying my way, from an advance, she said, from the
customer we were to meet.
I gulped. The front door of the house we were waiting in front
of opened. It creaked. A lady greeted us and let us in. She was older,
a maid. "Help," as they are called. I wanted her to help me out of my
predicament but knew it was too late.
We were led into a study. A young man sat writing at a desk. He
looked up, startled. Then he smiled. Kali smiled back. I forced a smile
from my lips. He was quite handsome, but I was nervous. Kali was pert,
chic. The man stood and walked out from behind his desk. He was taller
than either of us. I looked up at him, scared. Kali was forthright. Her
eyes gazed into his, her pug nose upturned, her lips sweet and hiding
nothing.
"I'm Alex," he said. He extended his hand in greeting. Kali
nodded, took it, felt it, examined it. As if looking for signs of his
life force in the lines of his palm. She passed his hand to me.
Anxiously I shook it, my fingers limp. He squeezed my hand. It hurt a
little.
"I am under stress," he said, turning again to Kali. "I have
inherited a great deal of money. My father died recently, leaving me all
his businesses. A Robert Maxwell type, with as many debts as assets. I
have had to make many decisions. I need..." His eyes wavered. He seemed
afraid to ask.
"Why don't you visit a dungeon?" Kali asked. Her voice was smug,
diffident. As if she didn't care. As a six-year-old I'd said that to a
nerd once. He had no girlfriend. "Go to a singles bar," I'd snapped,
playing with my playdoh. When I turned eight I started making penises out
of my playdoh, but then I was too young to know.
Kali sat on the corner of Alex's dress. Her skirt was short.
Her thighs showed, right to the tops of her stockings. You could see her
garter snaps where they held her stockings up. They were frilly, soft.
Her legs were like sheathed cinnamon, well-tanned. I guessed she had tan
lines underneath her clothes, where her shifting breasts and hidden cunny
waited. Kali flipped through a phone book. Alex stood, watching. I drew
close to him, clasped his hand. It was moist. He looked down at me. His
eyes caught mine, then dipped lower. My jacket was half-unbuttoned. I
wore no blouse underneath, just a corset. It did not cover my breasts.
He contemplated me. I knew I should leave at once. I was no whore, no
tart! But instead I caught sight of his bulge, his cockstand, buried in
his pants, rising up, a lump in his trousers. I gazed at his bulge as he
gazed at my curves.
"Come here, you naughty girl! Dial this number for me!" Kali
beckoned. With a blushing face I dropped Alex's hand and wandered over to
her. To maintain my innocence I let my finger rise to my mouth, catch in
the corner of my lips.
Kali was not fooled. She reached down behind me, in back of me.
She yanked up the back of my miniskirt. "See? She wears no panties,"
Kali said to Alex. I reddened. I turned my head and regarded my bare
tushy over my shoulder. Alex's eyes settled on my snowy globes and he
smiled a man's smile.
"You made me," I said accusingly to Kali. In hunching over to
lift my skirt she'd let her own slide up farther. Her legs were spread
and you could see her crotch between her thighs. Pink translucent
panties, cupping a quim I guessed was already wet. I knew I was. I was
trembling with my excitement. There was an ache in my belly now, not
butterflies.
My dress hiked up, my cheeks huddled, cleft and softly naked,
Alex unzipped his trousers and pulled himself out. I emitted a little
scream. It was of fear, but of admiration too. He was massive! His
thing pronged out at me, manly, eager, throbbing with lifeblood and
dripping already at the tip.
"Put yourself away, sir!" Kali scolded. She'd let him take it
out, though, perhaps to size him up, to see what we were in for. I did
not like at all what I was in for. She'd told me I'd have to lose my
cherry on this trip, my butthole cherry.
"Not with him," I whispered to Kali. My eyes were pleading. She
smiled. Alex, stuffing himself back into his trousers with much
difficulty, overheard.
"What? You will damn well screw with me!" Alex blurted. He was
the manager again, the CEO.
"She means her ass, Alex," Kali said soothingly. "She's an anal
virgin. Don't you think you're too big to pop her? You're a monster!"
She grinned. There was wickedness in her grin.
"I didn't mean to yell," Alex said. "I need to get away from
that. My employees all hate me, right now."
"Don't worry, I can help," Kali replied. She purred like a cat.
"I can see I have my work cut out for me, with Hercules here, and Sleeping
Beauty." She gave my bare bottom a slap. "Call this number!" Kali
ordered. I looked down at the phone book. "Authentic London Dungeons, in
Holland!" it read. There was a merriness in its tone. Carefully I looked
at the number and punched it into the phone on Alex's desk.
***
We rode in a limo. It travelled fast. We drove at Autobahn
speeds. In back we sat quietly together, the three of us, watching a tv
screen. There was a game show on, where young female contestants were
relieved of their clothing. It was from Italy. Alex wanted to fuck but
Kali told him he must wait.
"You must learn to conserve your strength sir, not always popping
off at every moment," she consoled him. Her hand massaged his lap, his
lump. Alex groaned and seemed to want to do something very bad in his
pants. I sat with my bare hiney on the leather, my pussy hidden by the
crease of my rucked up skirt. Kali, her own dress hiked up in back, sat
with her pink panties pressing into the seat. Alex seemed to like this,
though we gave him no more favors, saving ourselves for later.
Our dresses neatly restored, if only for a moment, we knocked at
the given address. It was a modest house, decent and law-abiding by all
outward appearances. A woman greeted us, let us in. She had raven black
hair and sultry eyes. She was dressed in jeans, torn at the knees. She
wore a midriff, too short. Underneath its ragged hem the undersides of
her breasts showed, bare and free. They jiggled. I caught sight of her
areolaes, the lower part. Just above her nipples indented the fabric.
Her hair was swept up, elegantly, in sharp contrast to her informal duds.
I guessed she'd just slipped them on, to answer our knock.
"Hi!" she said. Her voice was bright. She brushed a strand of
ebony hair from her eyes. She looked as if she'd just come from the gym,
was still winded.
"I'm Kali," my blonde friend greeted her. Gracefully she handed
the woman Alex's American Express card.
"Oh yes," the gypsy girl, gypsy woman replied. She seemed almost
as young as Kali, now that I could see her more closely. We shuffled
inside the house. She closed the front door behind us. She was 22, 23 I
guessed. She ran the card quickly, handed it back with a receipt. She
was efficient. Business should not interfere too long with pleasure.
"I'm Cybil," she added. Only her first name. Kali introduced myself and
Alex.
"I can lock up your valuables for you," Cybil told us. We gave
her our important things and she wrote them neatly out on a receipt. Then
she opened a small safe sitting in the corner of the room. Inside there
were separate drawers. She placed our things in one, together with our
receipt. I wished I could check myself inside, knew it was impossible.
Only the front door could offer escape now. Cybil had locked it when she
shut it.
The safe shut with a bang. Cybil twirled the combination lock.
She turned to us. Her breasts brimmed underneath her shorn-off tee. I
looked apprehensive.
"You're new?" Cybil asked me. She could tell Kali was
experienced. They were sisters in crime, the two of them, even though
they'd never met before. I nodded.
"Don't worry, pain can be a great release," Cybil said to me.
"She has the ass for it," Kali smiled. Cybil walked partway
behind me, admired my seat.
"Oh, yeah!" Cybil said. "Round as an apple. I'd love to polish
that!" She hooked her thumbs in the worn waistline of her jeans. They
were unbelted. I wondered where her belt was, if someone was using it.
On someone like me. Cybil tossed her head, clearing her eyes. Her hair
was loosely piled. "Come, I'll serve you tea before you get started. It
will heat you up," she smiled.
We passed down a hall to a sitting room. A fire crackled in one
corner, tossing out shadows. There were three chairs, overstuffed, one
too few for me. At Cybil's urging I knelt on the floor, beside Kali.
Rice cakes were brought by a maid. Kali took mine and made me nibble it
from her palm.
"She feeds well," Cybil said of me, observing. Tea was served.
The cups were delicate, lavender-colored. "They are from before the war,"
Cybil said. "I use only the finest. Don't drop them, handle them
carefully. I would have to bill you a lot if you broke one." I didn't
have to worry. Kali had me sip from her cup. We shared. She held the
cup and I drank, savoring the brew. The steam, curling up, tickled my
nose.
Alex, seated behind my back, bent down and lifted up my skirt.
Carefully he tucked its tail under the edge of my corset, to keep it up.
My bottom reared, naked and exposed, a big bulb, cloven. It shone whitely
in the firelight. I saw a many-thonged whip lying atop the mantelpiece.
Its thongs hung down, web-like, the flicking fire arching up behind them.
"She will make a delicious pet," Cybil observed, gazing at me, as
if I were nothing but a kitty in a store window.
"Yes," Kali murmured, sipping her tea.
"Are you ready?" Cybil asked at length. Kali, Alex nodded. I
kept my chin still. My consent was not needed, perhaps not even wanted.
Cybil rose and led us down a hall. As we walked, a couple passed
us. They looked newly-dressed. Their clothes were slightly rumpled.
"Bye," they said to Cybil. "Bye," she replied. I passed them red-faced,
my bottom bare, not allowed to restore my dress. The man commented to his
wife that I had a "wonderful arse."
I thought then that we might be escorted into some kind of
Dungeon of Doom, Doom IV perhaps, complete with monsters wielding whips
and truncheons. Instead Cybil took us out back, into a leafy yard shaded
from the surrounding houses by big maples. Under the canopied spread of
the trees I saw you could do most anything you wanted, provided you didn't
play to loudly. I saw a cloth lying in the close-clipped grass, stepped
over it. A gag. Yes, that's what it was. Cybil, following me, bent and
picked it up and slipped it quietly into the back pocket of her jeans.
Perhaps she expected to use it later. Or maybe she was just picking up.
I felt the self-conscious roll of my nude bottom cheeks as she guided us
over to three lawn chairs. Again, there was one too few for me.
"Down, Melody," Cybil commanded. She pointed to a cushion on the
grass, beside a chair. Kali plopped into the chair, not bothering to tuck
her short skirt under her before sitting down. Her pantied ass rested on
the plastic strips of the chair's seat. Her panties were so small that
they could only keep the lower halves of her cheeks covered; though her
skirt, settling in folds over her crotch and rear, kept Alex's prying eyes
from discerning more.
Obediently I knelt on my cushion. I liked obeying, did not know
why. Alex seemed discomfited as he dropped into a chair near Kali. His
pants bulged more than ever. Cybil sat in a chair right next to his,
placing him very favorably between two females, with me at his knees. I
was wedged between his chair and Kali's, as if I were an afterthought.
The sun, though, just now settling into the treetops, lit me with its rays
as well as my 'betters,' illuminating most remarkably my bare bottom. I
wished it would hurry up and set, to hide my naughtiness in the oncoming
night.
Cybil gazed up at the back of her house, as if beckoning our eyes
to follow. There were windows, some with curtains drawn, others with
their shades or blinds open. Hers was an old house, unique in its
characteristics, well-lived in. I imagined all the faces that had peered
out of those windows over the years. Even now some of Cybil's other
guests might be looking out, watching us. Did they like my bottom? What
would they think of me if Alex put me over his knee and spanked me? Or
Kali? I shivered despite the warmth of the sunshine. Birds flitted in
the trees, calling, mating.
"Now Alex," Cybil said, turning her eyes to him, stretched out in
the chair beside him. "As a little boy, have you ever wanted to pull your
thing out and show it to people? To strangers?" Alex cleared his throat.
He seemed about to answer when, as if on cue, a maid came out, bringing
us lemonade. She was nine, no older. Alex pondered Cybil's question as
the maid served us. She seemed as submissive as I. Quiet as a stealthy
nymph she brought three glasses on a tray, none for me. I was forgotten.
She did not remark on my presence. She was well-trained. Alex admired
her in her short little maid's dress. She returned to the house, her
bottom cheeks wiggling excessively, deliberately, flipping the tail of her
skirt around.
"Hmmm?" Cybil asked Alex. Her eyes gazed meaningfully at his
tented crotch.
"Well..." Alex began. His hands clutched his chilly glass. I
wanted some lemonade, had no glass of my own. I tilted his glass to my
lips and sipped from his. The kitchen windows at the back of the house
gazed at us. I thought I saw a little head bob in one of them. Was it
giggling?
"Don't worry," Kali said, speaking over my head. "You do not
need to take your penis out. It would be most improper." Her words
seemed to contradict Cybil, to clash with her over control of this
handsome male in our midst. "If you do, though," Kali continued, "you
cannot put it back in. And I assure you that I will have to punish it."
"That's right," Cybil said, piggybacking onto Kali's lewdness.
They were shrewd mistresses of this man in our midst; creative, impromptu
in their control. "Alex, you'd best keep it tucked in where it belongs.
Because once you take your penis out, if you do, we will have to tell you
what to do with it. Have you ever been to a little girl's tea party,
Alex? Well, you're at one now, because there are three of us girls and
only one of you. None of us have penises, Alex, so please don't embarrass
us by taking out your thing. And especially don't take it out when my
maid is serving us. You would be very evil indeed to let a little girl
see your big bad penis."
Alex harumphed. "Who is she, anyway? And what is she doing
here?"
Naughty Naked Dreamgirls (Library of Congress ISSN: 1070-1427) is
copyright 1995 and a trademark of Andrew Roller.
NOTE TO FUCKHEADS: "True rollers, like east Africa's Lilac-breasted roller (Coracias caudata), spend much of their time airborne, guarding their territories in a spectacular rolling flight, hence the name "roller."
- WWF Calendar, April 1997.