Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
No. 108    alt.sex.stories  

D R E A M G I R L S  S T O R I E S
A Mansion for Masochists
Part Twenty-Six
by Andrew Roller

Chapter Eighteen

	Some time later Mitch lay stretched out upon the wooden bench, his penis limp and spent.  Alicia knelt on the floor beside the bench, her head upon his thigh, her long locks cascading over his loins.  Her wrists were still bound behind her and her breasts jutted out in all their naked glory.  Elspeth, kneeling on a ledge in the pool, leaned out of it to tweak and play with Alicia's unprotected nipples.  Mitch ran his fingers through Alicia's hair and Elspeth fiddled with the blonde's nipples as a languorous conversation passed between them.
	"I hope someone will join us," Elspeth said.
	"You still need it, don't you?" Mitch asked.
	"Yes, I do," Elspeth said, raising her bottom from the foaming water and wriggling it.  "Little Alicia here seems to have gotten all the fun."
	"I'd still rather be a Lady than a Sailorette," Alicia said, watching the woman's nails as they pecked at her nipples.
	"When you're older, dear," Elspeth said.
	"I just turned 18," Alicia remarked.  "You'd think that would make me old enough, but it only qualifies me to be a sailorette!  If I were any younger I wouldn't be allowed to be anything!  Now I've got to wait even longer to be a Lady!"
	"Those are the rules, dear," Elspeth said.  
	"Well, I don't like them," Alicia pouted.  Mitch raised his head slightly.
	"See here!" Mitch said in mock shock.  "Criticizing Lilith's rules?  After she provided us with such a fine boat for our loveplay?  I think you deserve a spanking for such an ungrateful attitude, Miss!"
	"No I don't!" Alicia cried, even as Mitch rose up and hoisted her over his lap upon the bench.  Alicia kicked her legs and squealed but knew she had it coming and even found herself wanting it.  Elspeth hopped out of the tub and knelt on the tiles beside the bench. Grasping Alicia's flailing heels, she helped to still her.
	"How many men have you permitted to fondle this wayward bottom of yours?" Mitch asked, caressing Alicia's heinie.
	"Not many, and even less if I weren't handcuffed," Alicia responded.  Mitch's fingers plyed the smooth round cheeks, admiring their texture.
	"I thought you were instructed to address me as 'Sir'?" Mitch admonished the girl.  
	"Not many, Sir!" Alicia cried.  
	"Well, I think it's been quite a lot, and I wonder what your daddy would do with you if he found out?" Mitch asked.
	"I don't have a daddy," Alicia said, squirming.  "He's divorced."
	"All the more reason then for me to step in and take his place," Mitch said, smiling at Elspeth.  Her pendant breasts hung down in motherly fashion, almost begging for a baby to milk them.
	"I've never sired a daughter yet, but I don't think it would hurt for me to get some practice in disciplining one," Mitch said.  "Especially when I have such a naughty example of girlhood right in my very lap!"  With that Mitch brought the palm of his hand down with a resounding slap upon Alicia's bottom.  The blonde cried out, only to have her ululation met by yet another whack and another after that.  Beyond them a couple entered the whirlpool room with a sailorette in tow.  Alicia heard them enter and blushed with humiliation.  
	Elspeth's kneeling posture proved too alluring for the man who had just come in, and he walked forward and wordlessly took Elspeth by the hips.  Elspeth made to get up but even as she tried to do so the man entered her.  He was large of stature, and a wriggling, willful woman was no match for his muscles.  The two females who had just entered with him padded around to Elspeth's front and, kneeling, each partook of one of her breasts.  Together they shared her pussy.  
	Even as he continued to spank Alicia, Mitch looked up in anticipation at the two tempting bottoms of the newly arrived females.  The dimpled curves of flesh were just inches from him, moving gently to and fro as the women worked Elspeth.  Mitch licked his lips, knowing that the uninvited intrusion of the male into Elspeth would permit him to discipline the male's two girlfriends.
	The groans and moans of the double menage a trois came to Alicia's ears as she endured Mitch's blasting palm.  She had come a long way from Iowa, both physically and metaphorically, and she knew under Lilith's continued tutelage she would be taken further still.  She felt hot, and not just in her bottom.

THE END

D R E A M G I R L S  S T O R I E S
Love Child
Part One
by Andrew Roller

Chapter One

	In my mind I tried to imagine what it would be like.  I lofted my hands above my head.  The chaise lounge stuck up above my head and I rested them there, along the top, crossed my wrists and pretended they were tied to it.  I dropped my legs down on either side of the chaise lounge.  I arched my pussy forward.  
	I gazed up at the sun, feeling its warmth, my eyes closed.  I'd just slipped off my bikini bra a moment earlier and my breasts, full and firm, peaked toward the sun.  Only my bikini panties remained to protect me from Phoebus.  Hotly he breathed down on me, but a cool breeze, sent by some sympathetic goddess, wafted up around me.  
	In my imagination I left the sun behind.  It was nighttime now, and I was at a party.  Kimber was there.  She owned the chaise lounge I was lying on.  She'd slipped away, leaving me by myself by her pool, but in my daydream she was right in front of me.  
	"So glad you could come," she whispered, her eyes holding that worldly gleam.  I knew what was expected.  A butler appeared, holding a silver tray.  A little pile of female underpants were stacked upon it.  Pink ones, yellow ones, frilly ones with little bows.  I slipped my hands beneath my miniskirt.  Reluctantly I pulled my own undies down my legs and added them to the pile.  Kimber smiled her approval.  She took me by the arm, led me in to meet the other guests.  
	An even number of men and women, give or take a few, chatted amicably in the hotel suite's living room.  The women were all young, with Kimber, at 22, representing about the average.  The men ranged somewhat older in age, starting at the mid-twenties and going as high as 50.  I was received warmly by the nearest couple.  We spoke a moment, then Kimber and I moved on, exchanged small talk with other guests in turn, Kimber graciously introducing me to each of them.  I was the youngest, at 15.  My face, angelic, with soft pink cheeks, looked 12.  But there was no doubt my body could hold its own against any of them.  The swell of my breasts was prominent, provocative.  My mother said they were much too big for my age.  My legs were sleek and long and seemed to rise up until they disappeared somewhere in my ribcage.  Barbi was not an unsuitable name for me.  People said I looked just like her.  My hips, I suppose, could have been fuller, but my bottom was well-fleshed, sticking out round and saucily like some apple desiring to be polished.
	As Kimber threaded me through the guests I studied their mouths.  Most women wore light shades of lipstick, glossing their pretty lips.  Their teeth were small and dazzlingly white, tongues flitting within as they spoke.  Each one would sup upon my pussy this evening, Kimber had promised, for this was a Pussy Party, where the most private part of the body was given prominence.  There were no "ass men" or "leg men" here tonight, but rather those who prized a woman's cunt above all else.  And there were a few women here too who shared a similar obsession, particularly the older ones.  The youngest females present were all here "to show," as it was artfully said, and had been selected for the beauty of their dells.
	I sensed movement.  My eyes popped open, into the glare of the sun.  My hands shot down to my pussy and lay protectively upon it, only then realizing that I still wore my bikini briefs.  
	Kimber stood under the shadow of a tree, observed me with a sly smile.  I felt embarrassed, realized my titties were bare and were being squished upward between my closely drawn arms.  My nipples stuck up, fully erect, excited.  A cool breeze caressed them.
	"I'd offer a penny for your thoughts, but I think I already know..." Kimber said, her voice trailing off softly.  I flushed, felt butterflies in my stomach.  "Such a sweet little virgin," she said, and sauntered over to me.  She plucked each of my hands off my crotch.  Lightly she stroked my mound, tenuously covered by my panties.
	"D-Don't," I breathed, trembled, arms at my sides.  My breasts shivered as I spoke.  I replaced my legs on the chaise lounge.  They looked like long sticks of cinnamon stretching down away from me, straight, with two wiggly sets of toes at the end.  Kimber sat down beside me on the chaise lounge, her hand still caressing my virgin loins.  I should have squeezed my legs tightly together, but I didn't.  I left my thighs parted slightly.  My breasts wobbled nakedly on my chest as I took a breath and exhaled it with a shudder.
	"You mustn't expose them to direct sunlight," Kimber said, looking at my boobs.  "Men prefer them white.  Put your bra back on."  She urged modesty upon me even as her fingers danced upon my dell.
	I fetched my bra from where it lay beside me.  I leaned forward and covered myself with it, reaching behind myself to tie it.  Kimber smoothed my bikini between my loins, watching my face and tits with her eyes.  "I'm having a party tonight," she said.  "Another girl your age, less developed, might be too young for it, but you are full grown enough to come.  You must not deny yourself any longer, Barbi.  Your time has come.  You must join the adult world and take your place in it."
	"I'm saving myself for marriage," I pouted defiantly, finally getting my bra back on, straightening the cups with my fingers.  Reluctantly I saw that my mother was right.  I would have to buy a new swimsuit.  My chest had outgrown this one, just like the others, filling the cups to the bursting point.  It had happened every summer since my twelfth birthday.  I'd start with a decent bra, but by late summer I'd find I could not get myself properly covered anymore.  My boobies would bulge out around the desperate cups, showing off much more than the swimsuit's designer intended.  I hoped this didn't go on too much longer.  I'd wind up in the Guiness Book of World Records.
	"Tsk!  Marriage!" Kimber announced dismissively.  She tossed her head.  Her hand still played upon my mound.  She gazed into my eyes.  "Even your bra knows you're a big girl now," her gaze seemed to say.  
	"I'm still not coming," I said aloud, as if in answer.  "And take your hand off my twat."  She lifted her fingers, but placed them alongside my hip, where my bikini panties were tied.  Her other hand took up a position on the other side of my hip.  Lightly she toyed with the bows which kept my panties tied on.  "You wouldn't..." I said.  She tugged at the drawstrings, just a little.
	"Will you come to my party?" she asked.
	"I would, If my arrival didn't mean I'd have to come again."
	"Oh, yes!"  Kimber said happily.  "All night, in fact.  It's what the party's for, you know.  But no one will fuck you, unless you want them to.  Except, of course, with their tongues."  She tugged on my drawstrings a little more.  My nipples indented the cups of my bra, forming tiny tents.
	"My mom wouldn't ever let me hang around with you if she knew about your parties," I threatened.  Kimber laughed.
	"Helga?  I could tell you all sorts of tales about your mother Helga."  A shiver ran up my spine.  My parents had been killed in a car crash when I was eight.  Their close friend, Helga, had adopted me.  I'd heard stories, dismissing them out of hand when I was a little girl, about the parties Helga had invited my parents to.  And they hadn't turned down her invitations.  But no, it couldn't be, could it?  I could hardly imagine my mother, naked, bucking, rearing, attended upon by men in a lavish hotel suite somewhere, others looking on, or fucking, my father working himself into a new young virgin, maybe, someone like me, while my mother was pinned down, pinned within her pussy.  Yet my mother (I sometimes called her "my first mother" now), had been very beautiful.  And my father handsome.  They would not be easily missed, easily passed over in a crowd, at a party.  They would not go without invitations to undress, to show their assets, to love and be loved in turn.  But the other kids I played with had pretty moms too, and tall, strong fathers.  Surely they could not all be up to such things, in one way or another?  And Helga herself seemed a very picture of virtue.  She was always getting after me about my clothes, making sure they weren't too immodest.  It bugged me sometimes, but I suppose, walking to school each day, a girl had to be careful.  Not a day went by that, no matter what I wore, I didn't have men and boys gawking at me.  The younger ones actually drooled.  I swear if it wasn't for the security patrol in my neighborhood, I wouldn't have made it to school a single day this year without being raped.
	And now it looked as if Kimber herself, my best friend, wanted to rape me.  Our eyes clashed.  I could have reached up and grabbed her bikini bra, yanked it down, or grabbed her own panties, but I wanted to defeat her with my will.  It seemed as if Phoebus himself was staring down, urging her on.  I knew she was no lesbian, save, perhaps, for the pleasure of men.  She wanted what was best for me.  Though, at times, it might be hard, might hurt, I knew that, just from talking to the other girls at school who'd already done it.  But none of them had a friend like Kimberly, so far as I knew.  Perhaps that was what had drawn me to her.  She seemed just like me at times, young and careless, and then, at other times, a woman, sophisticated, even cunning.
	Suddenly, with flashing fingers, she slipped the ties of my panties.  I gasped.  "No," I said.  My panties lay across me, undone, but still covering my pubis.  
	"Alright," Kimber said, rising of a sudden to her feet.  Her long golden hair swished against her back.  Her tushy, barely encased in swim briefs, bulged wantonly, temptingly.
	"My panties..." I began.
	"Tie them up yourself," she said, and strutted off in her high heels.  She crossed her immaculately manicured lawn in silence, the grass absorbing the sound of her shoes.
***
	I tossed and turned that night in bed.  I wondered what I'd be doing now, if I'd accepted Kimberly's invitation.  Or, rather, what would be being done to me.  I tried to picture the men at her party.  I knew they must be very handsome.  And wealthy.  They would relish a young schoolgirl like me.  They would be thoughtful, and kind, and gentle, but firm, oh so firm.  I wanted them to be firm.  Somehow I fell asleep at last.  I woke up shrouded in melancholia.
	"You look a trifle gloomy today," Kimber teased me when I stopped by her place after school.  I plopped down at her kitchen table.  Four out of five days at school were "uniform day," and this was one of them.  I wore my regulation white blouse and plaid skirt, kneesocks and clunky saddle shoes.  Kimber, as usual, was dressed ravishingly in the latest fashions.  Even her casualwear was up-to-the-minute fashion plate.  She had on a sleeveless denim jacket and matching miniskirt, with only a flimsy see-through bra beneath the jacket.  It was a jacket, not a vest, for it had a collar.  A denim engineer's cap with a shiny silver buckle perched jauntily on her head.
	"I'm still saving myself for marriage," I said sullenly.  
	"Of course, dear," Kimber replied.  She sat down across from me and began spooning her way into a piece of strawberry cream pie.  Her parties kept her from ever having to watch her weight.  "Get some if you want it," she said.
	I rose to slice myself a piece of pie and then wondered if she meant the pie, or the party?  The pie, of course, but... 

D R E A M G I R L S  L E T T E R S

OLD SUPERHEROES NEVER DIE...

	Yes friends, it is I, Penis Man.  What do I do?  Well, I like flying over people, wetting on them.  Usually I do this when rain is approaching.  In this way I stand the littlest chance of being suspected.  I have a cloaking device.  It cloaks everything except my penis, which is no problem since it tends to look like a bird.  (Which itself is no problem since it is...well, you get the point.)  
	Sometimes people give me the bird when I pee on them, but most never suspect.  I especially like to pee on Yuppies, who go, ÒOh, look dear, rain!Ó  They then tell their kids all about rain and how it is healthy and good for ecology and stuff.  Farmers are fun too.  I pee on them and they say, ÒYep!  Looks like rain.  We could use some rain!Ó  Then I give them their own special shower.  (Their wife makes them take a shower when they get home, heh heh.)
	Some people have discovered my existence.  This has happened in New York.  When I pee on them, they yell, ÒYou dickhead!Ó  Usually some big black dude thinks HE is the one being yelled at, and beats the shit out of them.  That is pretty funny.  Once, though, I peed in Brentwood, and one of my former lovers got cut down to size.  Such is life.
	The next time you think itÕs raining, but youÕre not sure, DONÕT LOOK UP!  I give this to you as advice, since you were nice enough to read about my existence after I left the Mabell Universe.  Some of us manage to escape, you know.  After a lifetime of do-goodism we just canÕt resist a dark, perverted existence somewhere.  There are so few competitors to Mabell that we are forced to lead solitary, lonely lives, unable to fight crime because our trademark status has expired, unable to rescue heroines because Mabell owns them all.
	Yes, I will be flying over your head, enjoying myself on your head.  It is one of the small consolations of being a retired, out-of-date superhero.

P.S.  If you are a fan of mine, feel free to look for me.  Look in dark alleys, late at night, next to liquor stores.  You can probably find me there, tanking up for my next adventure.  And beware of my friend Bowel Man.  He says life is full of shit, and wants to prove it to you!

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