From roller666@aol.com Sat May 03 19:40:47 1997
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From: roller666@aol.com (ROLLER 666)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: rare dreamgirls 12
Date: 3 May 1997 23:40:47 GMT
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         "You wish to be a slave," she said.  "I can see it in your eyes."
         "No!  No I do not!" I cried out, sure of every word.
         "Some girls do, some don't," she answered.  "But you do."  I
shook my head 'no' as vigorously as I could.  "You are in luck," she said.
 "I have a guest, he watched you from his room, in the garden.  But if I
spare you, if I give you to him, you will be his slave forever."
         "Spare me, then," I replied.  
         "You didn't join the agency for the money, did you?" she asked. 
"You wanted to submit.  You wanted to find a master to love you, and care
for you, and give you your liberty, but always within the confines, the
perimeters, he might select.  Isn't it true?"  Again I shook my head 'no.'
         "Ronald, go get Lord Shaftsbury," Elspeth said.  There was a
wicked twinkle in her eye.  Immediately Ronald left, naked, his cock
waggling out in front of him, hoping for pussy.  The sooner my fate was
concluded, he would have some, from some female, I guessed.  He probably
did not care who.  She would be lovely, whoever she was.  
         I shifted my wrists, hoping to free them somehow from the
restraints.  Otherwise I kept my pose, on my knees, my face down, my
bottom high.  I did not dare change my posture, lest Elspeth flog me.
         "Hurry," Elspeth teased.  "'Please mistress, spank my bottom,' is
all you need say.  If I whack you even once, the strokes will be
delivered, all of them, even if I have to tie you more fully to do it. 
But you will be free of Lord Shaftsbury.  He will not be permitted to
enter.  If he does, my dear, you are lost.  I can see in your eyes what
you want.  A love slave, a chattel, that is what you want to be.  Opulent,
elegant, but not a liberated female.  Not in the truest sense.  You wish
to be endowed with the supreme female beauty, that which comes only from
submission to a male.  A strong, powerful male.  One who will love you,
and force you to submit completely.  I wished it once too, and I was such
a slave.  At 16, just as you will be soon.  That's what you really want
for your birthday, isn't it?  A collar, a leash, and the strong whip-hand
of a perfect male master."
         I wrenched at my bonds.  I must get free!  I could not face this.
 Somehow, deep down, I suspected that my sexual odyssey in life had been
more than just fun and games.  It had been for a purpose.  To find the
perfect man.  The complete master.  One who would make me obey because I
wanted to.  It was like finding a man to impregnate you, to have children
by.  Perhaps it was a sort of 'play pregnancy,' this desire of mine for a
master.  A test run, so to speak, for the chores and burdens of
motherhood, which were far deeper, far more long-lasting, than a few
well-placed whacks on the bottom.  And I knew I did want to be a mom.
         There was a knock at the door.  Elspeth looked dismayed.  For a
moment she seemed about to strike me, out of vengeance perhaps.  Yet I'd
obeyed her, hadn't I?  I'd chosen what she'd chosen herself.  "Come in,"
she said at last.
         The door opened.  And as soon as I saw him, I loved him.  He
moved with a grace, an assurance, I'd never seen.  Tall, uncertain in age,
but older than me, yes, that was essential.  Old enough to make the world
move for him.  And the girls in it.  Especially me.
         "Please mistress, spank my bottom!" I cried suddenly.  Elspeth
only laughed.
         "It is too late!" she said.  "You see him and you love him!  I
will not save you now."
****
         I was untied and made to stand up straight.  They blindfolded me.
 I thought to resist, thought best not to.  His hands lightly caressed my
waist, steadied me, but there was enormous power in them.  Mistress
whispered in my ear that he was a drug baron, perhaps the only man who
could truly enslave me, for he lived utterly outside the law.  I felt
strength in his fingers.  They were long, vampire-like, as those of a
heroin addict might be who'd shot up so much that he'd turned into
something utterly different.  I sensed, though, as I stood shaking, biting
my lip, that he'd freed himself of any addiction he might once have had to
drugs.  He just sold them now, I guessed, for his hands felt very
powerful, though they barely grazed me as they touched my waist, my belly.
 Though I was nude, utterly at his disposal, he did not cup my cunt or
fondle my breasts.  He was utterly discreet, as if feeling fine china in
an auction house, afraid to grip it too hard lest he break it.  
         My hands were tied in front of me with a slim piece of Indian
rawhide.  The rope cut into my wrists a little, as if to remind me of his
absolute power over me.  Taking me then round my middle he guided me from
the bedroom, where he might have fucked me instantly, and down the long
flight of stairs at the front of the house.  I had no idea where we were
going.  I did not care.  I was with him.  My breasts jiggled freely, my
nipples almost sore in their stiffness.  In my cunt I felt all desperate,
burny, as if I must have him, but he was too polite to indulge me.  My
thighs moved closely, I wished to squeeze them tight, to rub myself
furiously with my fingers until my passion eased.  My girlish, puppy-love
passion.  How foolish I was to get a crush on this man!  He would destroy
me, I knew it, or utterly transform me into a complete woman, so that I
would never be a girl, not anymore.  I would be full-grown and mature.  I
bit my lip harder.
         "Careful," he said, watching me.  He touched a finger to my lips
and made me ease the pressure of my nervous teeth.  "I do not wish you
injured," he breathed, his throat deep, menace slinking through it,
"unless I myself do it, or order it done."
         "Will you hurt me?" I asked.  My voice was quavery.  My steps
were hesitant on the stairs.  I felt for the next step, thought I might
lose my balance.  He steadied me.
         "I will use you," he answered.  "Sexually.  For my pleasure, and
perhaps yours, although your duty will be to satisfy me, not yourself.  Do
you understand?"  I stood stock still, wavering in my commitment.  He ran
a hand through my hair.  "It is too late to refuse," he replied.  "Nod if
you understand."  Very slowly, biting my lip again, I nodded.  He put a
finger to my mouth and softened the pensiveness of it.  Suddenly I opened
my teeth and caught his finger inside my mouth.  I sucked upon the length
of it hotly, vigorously, as a newborn with a favorite pacifier.
         "Come," he said.  "We must get started."  He stepped ahead of me,
turned, and literally led me with his finger in my mouth.  I did not let
go.  As he pulled me I bit into his flesh, gradually at first, then
harder.  He did not complain, did not pull out of me.  He led me all the
way outside, the others throwing a blanket round me as we stepped through
the door, to cover my nakedness against any eyes lurking on the street. 
Led like a dog, I traipsed in my wriggling nudity down the sidewalk.  The
blanket only served to heighten my awareness of myself.  Within its wool
confines my boobies bounced and jostled, my bottom rolled, the fabric of
the blanket pricking me, uncomfortable yet necessary.  When we slipped
inside his limo he relived me of it.  He sat me on his lap and I felt his
manhood in his pants.  Naughtily I moved my bottom so the staff of his
uprisen cock got caught twixt the cheeks.
         "I hope its a bumpy ride," I giggled, happy in my blindfold.  His
finger rested still upon my tongue, bit-like, slurring my speech.  
         "Oh, why so?" he asked.  He brushed my hair with his fingers,
endured the weight of my bottom on his cock.
         "Because I might make you wet your pants," I answered.
         "You would have me cream inside this fine Armani suit?" he asked.
 He put a fingertip in my navel.  I felt silly, baby-like.
         "Yeth," I answered over his finger.  "If you can't control
yourself, then perhaps you don't deserve me."  
         "And if I can?" he asked.  For answer I bounced my fanny on his
tented prong.  I closed my mouth over his finger and bit down hard.  I
tasted blood.
         "I'm sorry," I said suddenly.  He took his finger from my mouth. 
I lifted my hands, held him, kissed his bleeding finger.  "Did I hurt
you?" 
         "Not much," he answered.  "You're not the first frisky girl to
bite me."
         "I want to be the last, though," I said.  Possessively I took his
hand and yanked it down to my cunt.  I stuck his injured finger within the
confines of my twat.  I gasped as I did it, but desisted not, wanting him
so badly, wanting to make him my own.
         Female hands, long-nailed, came to my breasts.  They cupped me,
squeezed hard, as if to make my nipples squirt milk.  "Oh!" I said
remorsefully.  I'd hoped we were alone, in his car.  But there was one
other, at least, a woman.
         "I'm afraid I'm quite popular," he said.  As I held his wrist he
took over now, rodding me with his finger.  Soon I was no more than a
little girl on a supermarket horsey, wishing for the ride to stop, wanting
to get off.  I gripped his wrist, trying to stop him from fucking me, but
his strength was overpowering.  He rammed first one finger, then two, then
three within me, all the while rubbing my spot with his thumb.  The woman
put her mouth to my breasts and sucked them hard.  It seemed she wished to
distort their shape and leave me with ruined breasts.  I bounced my
bottom, crying out.  "Stop, please stop!"  I tried to make him come in his
pants to relieve his passion.  He bent his head and kissed, then bit into
the slimness of my neck with a vicious growl.
         "No!  Oh, please!" I cried, but their assault continued on my
little body, the woman's hands and mouth vigorous, the man's fingers
rapidly bringing me to the height of passion.  He rammed his hand again
and again into the apex of my thighs, burying his fingers, shafting me
with them until I went over the edge.  Shuddering down from my bliss I
felt a new sensation.  His pants were unbuckled, unzipped, drawn down. 
Tightly they gripped his muscular thighs as I felt the hair of them
pricking up against my own legs.  Under me his cock suddenly stuck up. 
Women, apparently sitting on either side of him, lifted me and spread the
cheeks of my seat.  Their long nails dug into the tenderest portions of my
bottom as I felt a finger swab vaseline over my rosette.  "No!  Oh, God!"
I cried.  In my enforced posture, my bottom held aloft, I felt the menace
of his cockhead worming into position.  He, or a woman, pressed its evil
tip right against my hole.  "Not there!  Not there!" I cried.  He felt
huge beneath me, a stiff iron pole, all raw and wet-tipped, oozing.
         "Be quiet, girl, you chose his fingers for your cunt," the woman
in front of me scolded.  She twisted my nipples and I shouted from the
abuse.
         "Welcome to Lord Shaftsbury," a woman beside my straining host
taunted.  I felt her fingers slip off my bottom, even as her companion did
the same.  I was left sitting atop my Lord's cock, with nothing to support
me.  
         "Aughgh!" I yelled, as the grisly thing made its entry into my
butthole.  The woman in front of me placed her hands on my thighs so I
could not get up.  Down I inexorably sat, our host's cock surging within
my bottom cheeks.  I clenched them, tried to keep him out, but he was
stiff as a piston, and I had no support for my ass.  The limo hit a bump
and I felt myself bounce.  "Oh!" I wept as I felt the cock catch me on my
earthward return.  He grunted, loving it.  The car hit another bump and I
wound up even more deeply pierced.  
         "Sir, your suspension is shot," the woman in front of me purred. 
She let go of my breasts and I felt them bounce, sore and well-sucked, my
nipples coated with her saliva.  
         "Cobblestones, such an adventure," my new master answered,
feeling himself more deeply embedded in me each time I was thrown by the
car.  Wham!  Wham!  Wham!  We were on pure stones now, the first few bumps
having been, apparently, holes in the road, but now the bouncing was
continuous.  I shuddered, shivered down his pole, feeling all my breath
forced from me.  Despite my tightness there was no escaping the sodomy. 
It felt as if a huge cork was being driven up the bottle-slim neck of my
anal hole, like one might stopper up champagne to save it for another day.
 I, however, was not being saved, but debauched, opened.  We could no
longer claim to be strangers, though I knew him by his title only, and he
knew me only by my first name.  Deep, deeper he rammed up within me,
making tears run from my eyes.
         "Oh, woh, woh, woh!" I protested.  There was no keeping him out,
though, he was too hard, the bumps too relentless.  I went
boing-boing-boing upon his penis for seeming ages, his balls all rubbery
and hairy and tight against the soft-underside of my ass, promising
fulfillment when he could take no more of my girlishly-cleft ass.  It was
the lewdest of amusement park rides, a log-ride of sorts, with the awful
log stuck up my heinie.  
         "Ah," he breathed finally, and I felt, somewhere deep within me,
a spurting.  Hot jets of his seed filled my guts as my rent bottom
suffered upon his indriving prong.  I jiggled, I wiggled, trying to get
off him, hoping he was finished, but he seemed to pee his sperm into me
forever.  And, then, still hard, I felt him let loose his urine.  
         "Noooo!" I hooted, scared as could be, as he enemized me with
liquid from within his own bladder.  I felt full, fuller still, but the
woman in front of me kept her hands hard upon my thighs, preventing my
rising, even as the limo wickedly ran over the cobblestones, making all of
us jiggle like balls in a funhouse.
         When he was done I was lifted up.  Gradually, as if loathe to
leave such sweet tightness, his cock eased down my poor well-reamed
bottomhole.  I heard a little 'pop' and felt myself suddenly empty.  I
drew in my ass cheeks, hoping to stop any re-entry.  Strangely, I felt
widened back there, as if I could not close myself as I had before.  They
sat my raped bottom on his thigh.  I felt his pee come running down out of
me.  The woman in front of me lifted up my blindfold.  She was the first
thing I saw, ravishingly beautiful, with raven-dark hair, wearing a
sparkling evening gown.  It was rumpled.  She'd hiked it up her thighs and
sat watching me, a hand between her legs, fingering her slit.  I glanced
down, looked between my own thighs.  I brushed my hair from my eyes with
my still-bound hands.  I gasped.  I looked around, over my shoulder.   
         "It's awful," I sighed, appalled at the mess beneath me, all of
it coming rapidly from within my bottom.  Pee, sperm, shit, it was on his
thigh and the seat beneath, on his trousers, half-lowered.  He smiled at
me.  
         "Don't worry, it's rented," he said of the limo.  We were on
smooth asphalt again.  Beside him two women sat, their own dresses raised,
as beautiful as the first, and intent now on seeing to their own pleasure.
 As we rode, myself recovering, my host relaxing, they filled the limo's
cabins with their cries as they masturbated themselves to fulfillment.  I
watched, captivated.  Their feminine odors rose up to join with the scent
I and my host had already saturated the cabin with.  My ass felt terribly
sore, and like it wouldn't ever be whole again, as if some huge thing
belonged inside it, forever, filling it, though I dreaded the thought of
it.  My master rubbed my belly and admired my breasts.  
         "Sexual entertainment," he said.  He kissed my young cheek.  "You
will see much of it in the days to come."  The women frigged themselves
until they were done.  Then one of them poured drinks and passed them
around.  I sipped mine slowly, savoring it, as they all sat and admired
me.  I was their new playmate, and I knew I could not escape whatever
other awful pleasures they had in store for me, as an inspiration to
themselves.
         "You will do well, dear," the raven-haired beauty said to me. 
She touched my chin.  I flinched.  I did not like her touching me.  My
bosoms still hurt from her raping them.  I glanced at my titties.  They
looked well enough, but I wondered if older women's breasts sagged because
of too much love-play.
         "So young and sweet," another woman said of me.  She took hold of
the cord which bound my wrists and used it to press the glass I held to my
lips.  She pushed the underside of the glass up until I was forced to
rapidly swallow its contents.  I felt the liquor run down my throat and
fill my belly.  A headiness quickly overcame me.  I giggled.  I felt
silly.  The tips of my nipples wiggled sweetly.
         "We are almost there," my master said to me, his voice soft,
liquor-spiked.  His breath mingled with my own and I pressed my mouth to
his so we could share our exhalations with each other, privately, blocking
out the other females.  I was on his lap, not they.  Though I hurt in my
private places and blamed him for it, I kissed him lovingly.  Our tongues
met and he drew me closer.  "I am going to have you whipped, later today,"
he said to me.  I shivered but I did not care.  I was his, he could do
with me as he wished.

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