Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
No. 81    alt.sex.stories  

D R E A M G I R L S  S T O R I E S
watermelon moon
Part Twenty-Four
by Andrew Roller

Chapter Seventeen

	"Come, it's time for your bath," Sandy announced to Angel when she had finished peeing on the girl.  Together Sandy and Rick sat Angel up on the bed.  It felt very wet beneath Angel's bottom.  Rick hopped down off the bed and then, taking Angel by the hand, he helped the blonde as she tottered back down the wooden stairs to the floor.  Still sitting on the bed, Sandy helped Angel down the stairs too by steadying the girl's bottom with her hands.
	"After your bath we will dress you up in white gloves and stockings and make you look very pretty for your first enema," Sandy announced to Angel when the trio had gained the bathroom.  A large square tub lay before them, sunk in the tiled floor.  Heaps of bubbles swirled around as hot water gushed from a gold faucet into the tub.
	"ThatÑthat will make me have to take another bath," Angel said of the proposed enema.
	"Of course, dear," Sandy said, as if explaining something simple to a child.  Sandy twirled a finger in one of Angel's long lemon locks as they stood nude before the tub.  "Our entire weekend together is going to be one long series of scenes where we dress up very sexily, then get totally wild and ruin ourselves.  Then, after a quick hop in the bath, or maybe a squirt down with the hose out back, we start all over again.  I just hope Rick can keep up with all the action expected of him."  Sandy glanced across Angel to where Rick stood strumming his rod.
	"You really don't need to do that, dear," Sandy said to Rick.  "We can more than take care of your penis for you."
	"I just don't want to let good girl talk go to waste," Rick said.  But he dropped his hand from his dick.
	"Make yourself useful and untie Angel's arms while we wait for the tub to fill," Sandy said.  Rick walked behind Angel and began working at the knots which bound her.  
	"Damn, you tie a tough knot," Rick said with a grimace as he attempted to undo Angel.
	"Three years in the girl scouts," Sandy said smugly, placing her hands on her hips.  
	"There!" Rick said.  Angel felt her wrists separate.  Her elbows remained bound.  "One more to go."
	A moment later and Angel's bonds slipped from her arms and fell to the floor.  Angel gratefully brought her arms in front of her and rubbed them with her hands.  There were red marks on them where the ropes had been.
	"It feels strange to have the use of my hands again," Angel breathed.
	"Enjoy it while you can.  It won't last long," Sandy said.  Angel looked at the woman but said nothing.  "Now let's have those lovely red boots off," Sandy said.  As daintily as she had stepped into them, Angel, balancing herself upon Sandy, stepped out of the boots once more.  She had put them on to have her bottom whipped, and now that her heinie was a virtual map of the Interstate system the boots were no longer needed.  
	"Come, I think our tub is ready," Sandy said a minute or so later.  She took Angel by the hand and led her into the water.  Rick sat down in the water, giving a great sigh.  But Sandy told Angel to keep standing.  Angel had better luck standing without being perched atop five inch heels, but she still felt wobbly.  Sandy sank into the water before Angel and took a bar of soap from the ledge along the side of the bathtub.  The soap dangled from the end of a short rope, which Sandy slipped over her neck.  The bar dangled alluringly in the crevice between her breasts.
	Sandy put her hands to the soap and began rubbing it, creating lather.  When her palms were covered with white lather she put them to Angel's thighs and began working the suds into her flesh.  Sandy's hands soon sleeked upward, where they avoided Angel's dry, fluffy pubic mound to soap her inner thighs and belly.  Angel glanced down between her breasts to see the amazing sight of her pubic hair, like a dry oasis, completely surrounded by slick wet soap suds.
	Up went Sandy's hands, to lather Angel's shoulders and each of her arms.  Like her pubic thatch, her breasts were avoided.  Still devoid of moisture, they stuck straight out, as if defying a bath.  Finally Sandy rose and did Angel's back and, to her surprise, her bottom.  
	"Rick would be too rough with you if he tried to do your bottom," Sandy explained.  With each glide of Sandy's hand across her butt Angel winced.  The pain was less now, and much of it had been replaced with a warm glow.  Yet Angel found herself lifting a foot now and then as she strove to fling off a twitch of pain.
	When all of Angel save her breasts and pussy had been washed, Sandy turned the blonde about and presented her to Rick.  He was lounging in the shallowest part of the tub, and here Angel could kneel without having the water pass the mid-point of her thighs.  Rick bade her to kneel.
	"Well, well, how is my little love slave?" Rick asked.
	"Fine," Angel said in a soft voice.  Suddenly a slap came to her bottom.  Angel winced and nearly toppled forward into Rick.  She looked over her shoulder with surprised eyes at Sandy.
	"Don't blame Sandy," Rick said even as Sandy smiled smugly at Angel.  The blonde turned her head back toward Rick.  "Sandy is my love slave even now, but she is senior to you.  Her slap was to introduce you to a new form of address which I will now require of you for as long as we are together.  From now on, you will either address me as 'Master' or 'Sir.'  Any deviation from this will be noted and result in appropriate punishment.  I feel that since you are a guest in my house, with even a ruby collar provided free of charge, it is hardly an imposition to ask you to call me by my proper name."
	Angel felt a thrill go down her spine as Rick lectured her.  She attempted to fight it, but the erotic allure of being totally in this man's power attracted her.  And he had now set down ground rules, rules in which she could choose to be a naughty little girl and get him to punish her.
	"I hardly think you could do any more to me than you already have...sir," Angel said, putting her hands tentatively to her butt to ward off any further blows.  Her fingers just barely grazed her skin and she wanted to pull them away even as she kept them there as insurance against Sandy.
	Rick laughed.  "I admit I gave you a stronger dose of medicine than I intended, thanks to my wife's undisciplined mouth.  Just be glad I didn't cut that wonderful white flesh of yours.  Then we'd both be sorry."  Angel breathed a sigh of relief even as she knelt before the man with her breasts and pubis thrust out to him.  At least he didn't seem terribly sadistic.  Just a fine, playful, aristocratic sadism that promised to give a spoiled little brat like her the discipline she knew she deserved.
	"Well, here's what I think of your excuse," Angel said, and stuck out her tongue at Rick.  
	"Whoa!" Rick said, sitting up.  The water cascaded off his massive chest.  A peppering of tiny bubbles clung to the hairs of his chest when he had risen.  Angel's hands were still behind her, guarding her bottom.  Sandy took advantage of this by suddenly grasping both Angel's wrists.  Sandy pulled Angel's arms back, thrusting her breasts out farther.
	Rick reached behind some bottles of cologne on the tub ledge and pulled out a Malaccan cane.  Angel's eyes widened.  She had let Sandy's fingers slip over her wrists without hardly any struggle.  But now she wriggled vigorously against the woman's grasp.  The last thing she wanted was another whipping!  And she doubted this one would fall on her bottom....
	"YouÑyou wouldn't," Angel said.  She regarded Rick with fearful eyes.  Her nipples were sticking out awfully far, and they were totally vulnerable.  Rick eyed them.
	"Yes, I'm afraid I would...and you just forgot to call me 'sir' twice in a row," Rick said.
	"Please sir," Angel imprecated, squirming like a caught fish in Sandy's grasp.  "Please don't whip me...at least...not my breasts!"  
	In answer Rick grazed Angel's right breast with the cane.  It was made of a single sliver of bamboo.  Flexible, yet resilient.  It would last long in any contest with Angel's bosoms.
	"Perhaps I should draw blood this time," Rick said.  Angel's eyes bulged.
	"No!" Angel cried, tearing at Sandy's grasp.  It took all the woman's might to restrain her.  The water in the tub rocked to and fro.  
	"Tch, tch, you've gotten a few droplets of water on your pubic hair," Rick said, touching two fingers to a drop there.  Angel's writhing subsided as Rick's fingers touched her mound.  One by one Rick squeezed the droplets from Angel's hair, wiping his fingers on a nearby towel before proceeding to the next drop.  "Well, I suppose drawing blood would be a bit much, especially if you're planning to adorn my cabin for some time to come," Rick said.  "I would like to show off your lovely body to my friends some time."  He lifted his eyes to Angel's.  "But now I count three occasions on which you failed to call me 'sir.'  Certainly a little punishment is in order.  And with such delectable breasts sticking impudently out at me, well, they almost beg for disciplining."
	Without further ado Rick raised the cane and brought it down sharply upon Angel's right breast.  She drew in her breath but held off any cry.  Again the cane came down, this time on her left breast.  Angel's response was a little mew.  With a moderate show of resistance she strained against Sandy's grasp.  
	Whack!  Whack!  Whack!  came the Malaccan cane, each leaving a bright pink stripe in its wake.  Angel bit her lower lip, tears welling in her eyes.  So far her precious nipples had managed to avoid the cane.  But with each stroke Rick seemed to strike closer to them.  Whack!  Whack!  Whack!  continued the rain of blows, and tears began to streak Angel's already mussed face.  Stale urine and spoiled makeup commingled in Angel's rivulets of tears.  The man had already spanked and whipped her bottom, and peed in her face!  How could he inflict this further cruelty on her?
	A fairly light stroke was the first to hit Angel's tender pink areola.  Rick seemed to be measuring how much harshness he could inflict on this particularly tender region of Angel's body without drawing blood.  Confident that more force could be safely applied, his next stroke was harsher.  Angel winced and writhed under the blow.  More fell, each whacking her right on her deliciously sensitive nipples.   A few blows did in fact miss, and Rick announced that for each blow that did not fall where intended another would be provided to make up for it.
	Angel was sobbing openly by the time Rick tossed aside his cane.  Sandy, sensing her presence at Angel's rear was no longer required, glided through the foam to offer her soap on a rope to Rick's hands.  With eager fingers he delved between his wife's breasts to take as much lather from her as he required.
	"Some day I'm going to have you offer milk to me too," Rick said.  Sandy looked down with loving eyes as Rick soaped himself between her bosoms.  Beyond Angel was bawling like a little girl, still kneeling before Rick, her fists at her eyes.
	"You may do that sooner than you think," Sandy said.  "I didn't take my pill last night."  Even Angel had to take her hands from her eyes and suppress her howling when she heard this.  Was Sandy pregnant?
	"What?" Rick cried.  "You mean we've been playing around like this and you haven't even taken your pill?  What if some of my semen floated through the bathwater and slipped inside you?  Or what about when I stuck my penis up you in the shower.  Now I know why you suddenly seemed scared when I made you take me!"
	"I know," Sandy said.  "If you had ejaculated I would be pregnant now.  Maybe you did let out one little sperm, and I am pregnant!"  Sandy smiled brightly, even as her eyes showed a trace of fear.
	"No, I didn't let anything out...I wasn't at that point yet, even though I was hard," Rick said.  "No wonder you didn't let me stay up you."
	"IÑI wasn't sure I was ready," Sandy said.  She let her fingers alight upon the head of Rick's cock, which had risen during the conversation to poke above the foamy water.  "But now I am."  Sandy's fingers lightly squeezed Rick's cockhead.
	A snuffle from Angel reminded the pair of their guest.  "First things first," Rick said, and took his now lathered hands from between Sandy's breasts and put them to Angel's.  
	"Oooch!" Angel cried, wincing at the contact of his calloused palms to her striped mammaries.
	"Gently," Sandy cautioned Rick.  Her fingers trailed down the stem of his penis.
	With easy strokes Rick lathered Angel's breasts.  Several times he returned to his wife's breasts for more lather.  Angel mewed as little spasms of pain accompanied Rick's washing of her tits.
	"I want to be a mother someday too," Angel said as Rick turned his attention to her pubic mound.  His hands, roving through her hair there, seemed to seize her more firmly as she made her impromptu remark.  
	"That can be arranged," Rick breathed.  "But you must first learn to call me 'sir.'"
	"Sir, I would like to have a baby too," Angel mewed.
	Dick noticed that both girls cradled in his arms were now asleep.  He glanced over at Bob and Lori.  They had drifted off as well.  "So much for being a great storyteller," Dick said aloud to the moon.  The man in the luminescent sphere gazed out at him from a mirror reflecting the risen moon outside.  Nearly half the man was gone, but enough remained to give Dick the feeling that the moon was watching him, with one eye, as he lay naked in bed.  "Damn faggot," Dick said.  The moon kept peering.  Dick shut his eyes and quickly fell asleep.
	The next night Dick sat alone on the grassy knoll with Willette, watching the moon rise again.  From the cabin the sounds of laughter could be heard as Bob engaged Lori and Cindy in a game of strip Monopoly.
	Willette looked at Dick.  A glum look had come over his face.  She knew what that meant; he was reflecting on his dead wife.  "Dickie," Willette breathed.  The man made no response.  "Dickie," Willette said again, her voice slightly stern.  "Stop thinking about your wife, Dickie, it makes me sad."  Dick looked over at her and caressed her far shoulder.
	"Sorry," Dick said.  "It's just you remind me so much of her."
	"Maybe we shouldn't get married then, Dick," Willette said.  "I don't want to spend the rest of my life reminding the man I love of some other woman."
	"No, no," Dick protested.  "Don't say that."
	"Dickie," Willette asked.  She looked up at the moon.  Watermelon moon.  "Dickie, would you say that the moon is half empty or half full?  I mean, is it getting bigger or getting smaller?"  Dick struggled to remember the moon as it was last night, the night before.  It had been full not too long ago, he thought.  Or had it been?  The days and nights all seemed to blend together here at their cabin.  
	"I don't know, half empty, I guess," Dick mused.  What the hell did he care about the moon?  Romantic girl.
	"Well, I say it's half full," Willette said.
	"That's what I like about you, you're always optimistic," Dick breathed.  He kissed her.
	"And you're always threatening to turn into a grump," Willette said.
	"I've been through a lot," Dick sighed.  "But I'm sure that together you and I can find a new life.  Especially with children."  He kissed her again.
	"Oh, Dickie, I love you," Willette said.  They were both sitting naked on the grass and she wiggled her bottom closer to his.
	"I know," Dick breathed.  "And I love you too.  And that little baby growing inside of you."  He stroked her tummy.  It was still flat, just a gentle mound, but that had always been there.  Willette looked down at herself and watched as he caressed her.  How many more Watermelon Moons before she was heavy with child?  Before she gave birth?  Would her baby be born on a night with a Watermelon Moon?  "Half empty indeed," Willette tutted.
	They were all ensconced in the bedroom that night, nestled in one another's arms, when Dick suddenly tensed.  He heard the front door creak open.  
	"Damn!  I forgot to lock the front door!" Dick hissed.  Lori rolled off the bed, quick as a fox.  Willette heard Lori ratchet back the toggle on her machine gun.  One thing Willette had to admit; when it came to guns the woman was a pro.  She seemed very good at strategy too.  Willette was still contemplating what action she herself might take when the slow footfalls of heavy boots materialized as a shadow in the bedroom's doorway.
	"Freeze, fucker!" Lori hissed at the figure.  It seemed to flinch.
	"Whoa, momma!"  Willette breathed a loud sigh of relief.  It was Steven!
	"Steven you meanie!" Cindy cried.  The girl sat straight up in the bed.  Her breasts jiggled violently from the force with which she had risen.  Slowly Lori rose, the gun still in her hands.  Then she leaned it against the wall and crawled back into bed.
	"Sexually abusing 12-year-olds, eh, Stevie?" Lori asked reproachfully.
	"Just providing a service to our young," Steven said nonchalantly.  He unbuckled his pants.  "You'll note in the morning that there's a new notch in my leather belt."  His jeans slithered down his legs.  Willette gazed at his dark, shadowed figure.  Did he?  Yes!  As Steve turned slightly sideways a handsome erection bobbled its profile into view.
	"You're a molester, that's what you are!" Cindy said accusingly.  "I'm going to report you to the police and they'll cut your balls off!"
	"Tch!  A boy fucked me when I was 12, and I was glad he did it," Willette said.  She was lying next to Cindy, the girl cradled between her and Dick.  Willette stroked a finger up the crevice between Cindy's labia lips.
	"Tell us a story, Steven," Bob suggested.  The boy made a point of not crawling into bed on the side Bob was on.
	"A story?" Steve asked.  Willette had little doubt that there was something much more important on the boy's mind than stories.
	"Yes," Willette concurred.  "Don't think you can just hop right in and start fucking away.  We all told each other stories last night.  Now, if you intend to still be a part of our group, it's your turn."
	"Fuck, I don't know any stories," Steve said.
	"You should be able to think up at least one," Cindy offered.  "I'll bet you watched cartoons all morning!"  Willette suppressed a giggle with some difficulty.  
	"Yeah, well, you missed 'em," Steve said.  
	"I'm a grownup.  I don't need to watch Saturday morning cartoons," Cindy said.  "Anyways they're all reruns."
	"Tell us a story, big boy," Lori urged, her hand finding its way to his penis and tweaking it.
	"All right, all right, if you guys insist.  But I'll be making it up as I go, so don't get pissed if I fuck it up," Steve relented.
	"Don't fuck it up or you won't get to fuck," Lori said smugly.  Her fingers seemed to measure the circumference of his rod in the dark.
	"Well, let's see, I'll call my heroine Cindy," Steve said.  He laughed.
	"You'd better make only good things happen to me!" Cindy snapped.
	"Well, this Cindy was blonde, bleach blonde, not a red head like you," Steve sneered at his beau.
	"I like being a red head!"  Cindy snapped.  "And I'm special.  My hair is blonde with streaks of red.  And I have no freckles."
	"Well, I only like girls who are true blondes," Steve said, seemingly splitting hairs to antagonize his girlfriend.  "Unless, of course, I've got a full pair of balls.  Then I'll fuck any slut who comes along, even one with red streaked hair."  
	"OoooH!"  Cindy cried.  She meant to roll over Dick and slap Steven, but Willette restrained her.

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