Message-ID: <1130eli$9706022304@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Archived-At: <URL:http://www.netusa.net/~eli/erotica/assm/Year97/1130>
Path: qz!news.accessus.net!not-for-mail
X-Path-Preload: news.accessus.net preloaded to thwart rogue canceller there
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d
Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam
Approved: <usenet-approval@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded <story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Story-Submission: <story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
From: Andrew Roller <roller39@IDT.NET>
Subject: kiddie clitties part 1 of 2 (NND)
---------------------------------------------------------------
PROBLEMS? Please try viewing this with Netscape Navigator.
---------------------------------------------------------------
_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
KIDDIE CLITTIES
_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
Chapter One
Had one of the horses been bad? From the barn I heard a sound
of whipping. It was slow, regular, almost hypnotic. I put down my
“Dangerous Liasons” paperback, the “Tropical Temptation” one, where the
girl becomes a junior airline stewardess on her dad’s plane and meets
and young pilot, and went to the window. I’d read the novel before,
anyway.
I gazed out across the lawn from my second story bedroom
window. In the distance was the barn. It was a warm summer morning. I
still had my nightgown on. I’d slept late. Auntie and Uncle didn’t
mind. Well, they might have, but they were away this morning, off early
to buy feed for the horses at the feed store. And to haggle, I think,
over the price they might get for their wheat next year.
The sound of whipping continued. I heard a horse neigh, but
otherwise it was quiet. I left my window and crept downstairs. I went
out the back door of the house. I didn’t bother putting shoes on. The
morning dew had long since burnt off the grass and it was soft under my
feet. I felt the wind in my nightgown. It lifted it. The nightgown
had been given to me by Eveline. She was Auntie and Uncle’s only
child. She was 19. I was just 12. Auntie had protested the nightgown,
saying it was too short. My others had always covered me down to my
knees, but this one barely covered my bottom. When the wind caught my
nightgown it lifted it, showing my panties. I struggled to capture the
hem of the gown. I got hold of it, pressed it against myself, against
my hips, but as soon as I let go the wind lifted it again.
I guess I was being punished for not getting up at the proper
hour and dressing. I hoped none of Eveline’s boyfriends were visiting
today. I walked across the lawn, my gown held high by the wind. It
showed my belly and it threatened to show my breasts. I didn’t mind it
showing my tummy, really, but I worried about it showing my breasts. I
was embarrassed by them. A year ago I’d been flat-chested. Now I had
two big gourd-like things hanging off me. They were round as peaches
and they swung easily as I walked, for I wore no bra. I felt so silly,
having them. Only one other girl I knew was so well-endowed, my friend
Tabitha, and she was a year older than me.
The sound of the whipping continued, drawing me toward the
barn. I liked the barn. My favorite horse, Pepper, lived there, with
his mate. She was named Downy, because she was all white, while Pepper
was black as a moonless night. I worried that he might have gotten in
trouble somehow. He was a little spirited, though he was nice to me.
He’d broken out a week ago and I remembered Uncle warning him that if he
did it again, he’d give him a good whaling to make him behave. But
uncle was gone today. I knew Eveline wasn’t likely to whip the horses.
She liked them as much as I did. So why, then, was I hearing that
sound?
I crept into the barn. I was frightened by the sound, but I
had to find out what was happening. I had to push the barn door back a
little to sneak inside and it let out a small ‘creak!’ As I stepped
within, into the shadowed interior of the barn, I saw a woman’s figure.
She was clad in riding boots with her legs otherwise bare, wearing very
short hot pants around her waist. Above her pants her back was bare,
except for a small bikini top tied casually around her oversized
breasts. The drawstrings of the bra were loose, the one around her back
hanging down a little, obviously not tightly drawn, the one around her
neck tautened by the weight of her breasts but otherwise loosely bound
to her neck, in a big, careless bow.
Of course, seeing this tall, tanned figure standing in the
barn, I knew immediately who it was. Eveline! Her long red hair was
tied off in an efficient pony tail. She was in the middle of a
whipstroke as I entered. I saw the tail of the whip fly out, strike
something in the distance, and then rebound.
Eveline turned. As she did her hand flew to her bosom and she
seemed to do her best to straighten her bra, repositioning the too-small
cups over her breasts.
“Oh, it’s you!” she gasped. She seemed slightly heated. “I
thought you were my dad or mom.”
“No, they’re out this morning,” I said. I felt small, like a
mouse entering someplace it’s not supposed to be. My nightdress settled
around my waist, concealing my panties once more, though just barely,
for it was quite short. I could feel the wind through the door of the
barn. It still stood open a crack, from my entering. It tugged at my
nightdress, trying to lift it, but not quite able to, anymore. I pushed
the door closed behind me to keep the wind out.
I saw a white block of what looked to be tofu in the distance.
It was set atop a big wooden post. It stood about level with my waist,
a few inches higher, perhaps. Eveline had been whipping it and flecks
of tofu were spattered around the dirt floor of the barn, near the post.
“What are you doing?” I asked. I padded across the cool dirt
floor of the barn, enjoying the feel of my toes free in the dirt,
needing no shoes, wanting none. I walked slowly, a little hesitant, but
not too frightened anymore because it was just Eveline here, and the
horses stood contentedly some distance away from her whip, in their
stables.
Eveline brushed a loose strand of her long red hair away from
her eyes. She was calm, but there was a quiet sense of excitement
brooding within her. There was a gleam of perspiration on her brow.
“I’m practising my whipping,” she said to me. Her eyes were
bright. They seemed to burn into me as I approached her.
“That’s good,” I replied. It was all I could think to say.
Horses sometimes needed a whip applied to them, but of course she
wouldn’t want to hurt them any more than I would, except I would never
whip them. I looked at the block of bean curd sitting atop the post.
It was half-ruined, I guessed Eveline had been whipping it. Inside I’d
mostly been hearing the snap of the whip, for the tofu was quite soft.
I figured I knew the answer but I asked anyway, there in the
darkness, standing close to Eveline now, looking at her and the long
tail of the whip she held. She smiled, seeing me in the nightgown she’d
given me.
“Why are you practising your whipping?” I asked her. I looked
up at her with my large, liquid eyes, set inquiringly on opposite sides
of my upturned nose. She considered a moment, as if considering telling
me a lie. Then her eyes fell to my breasts and they seemed to convince
her to tell me the truth. As if they made me old enough to know it.
“I --” she paused, as if reconsidering her decision. Then
before she could withdraw it she blurted out, “I have to practise. So I
can whip female bottoms.”
I blanched. I don’t think anything could have prepared me for
a response like that! My hands flew instinctively to my heinie and
clutched at it. “You what?!” I asked. My fingers found the hem of my
nightgown and tugged hard at it, trying to pull it more concealingly
over my rump.
Eveline eyed me with a kind of gleeful wickedness now,
realizing she’d given herself the upper hand. She seemed glad of her
statement and happy, perhaps, to have the secret off her chest. “Yes,”
she said, giving the whip she held a little snap, with just the
slightest movement of her wrist. “My dad and mom want me to marry a
farmer, of course, and spend my days and nights growing wheat and
milking cows, but I’ve found a funner way to live.” She grinned. I
held on to my bottom for dear life. “You don’t think I got that red
convertible in the drive selling hogs, do you?”
“Auntie and Uncle say you talked the dealer into giving you a
great price for them,” I replied. My voice was tremulous.
“I did nothing of the kind,” Eveline replied. She tossed her
head and her big red ponytail swished across her bare back. “The dealer
is an old shit who’s 55 and likes swindling people out of their swine
more than he likes getting an erection, which I doubt he gets any more.
I got an ordinary price for the hogs, just like everyone else does, and
then only after two hours of haggling and flirting with him. The rest
came from my escort service.”
“Oh,” I answered. I looked at her lean, half-bare body and the
slender whip she held gracefully in her hand. My voice was quiet,
mouselike.
Eveline reached behind her neck and untied the drawstring of
her bra. “Step back,” she said. “I like practising topless, but I was
worried that someone was coming, so I put this on, just in case. I
heard the back door of the house slam when you came out.” She smiled.
Her loosely tied bra dropped from her breasts. They were perfectly
formed, teenage breasts, with pink nipples topping them. The bra
remained tied around Eveline’s back, but, without the support of the
drawstring around her neck, it quickly slid down to her waist. It hung
there, white against the dark red of her hot pants, the small cups of
the bra dangling between her legs.
Eveline drew back her hand, drawing the whip along with it.
Then she let fly another stroke. It was a fast, hard stroke, but when
it hit the block of tofu it seemed to barely mar it, just taking off the
slightest bit of it, which flew in a white glob to the floor.
“Mmmm, nice one,” Eveline said. Her voice was high, lilting.
One might have mistaken it for a child’s voice, except when you saw her
you realized she was obviously a woman.
I knew I should leave the barn, seeing such a strange sight as
a topless girl who claimed to run an escort service whipping a block of
tofu. But, of course, curious as a cat with nine lives (though I only
had one) I stayed. Eveline seemed to ignore me, now, saying simply,
“Let me know if you think you hear somebody coming.” She gave the tofu
blow after blow, but each only hurt it a little, for she’d obviously
done lots of practising and had quite a talent at whipping. Gradually I
let go of my bottom and the hem of my nightgown. I stood barefoot on
the dirt, watching, my hair tied off neatly in pigtails, shivering a
little as each blow of the whip fell.
“Why do you have to whip female bottoms?” I asked at length,
gathering my courage.
“For pleasure,” Eveline surprised me by answering. She gave
the tofu another strike, hitting it a little too hard this time, digging
a big chunk out of it.
“Sorry,” I said, seeing I’d ruined her stroke.
“No, it’s okay,” Eveline answered. “Though I am running out of
tofu.” She turned to me. “Some men like to see a girl whipped. It’s
just that simple.” She drew the cord of the whip across her palm. It
was a long whip, black, with a knot at the end of it, and a spray of
little threads extending out from the knot, like a whisper-soft
embellishment. “And sometimes,” she said. “I have to whip a girl.
She’s disobedient, or she tries to cheat me out of my share of the money
she’s made. After all, I arrange the parties, and invite the men, and
keep everything orderly. That takes a lot of work and I expect to be
paid for it. So sometimes I have to whip a girl for that reason. And
also,” she paused. Her breasts hung nakedly from her chest like large
grapefruit. She laughed and they jiggled a little. “And sometimes I
have to whip men too,” she said. “Either because they want it or their
wives or girlfriends want to see it done, or because we’ve played a game
and they were the loser.” She smiled at me. “When a man has his legs
spread to the whip, that’s dangerous, and I have to be able to place the
strokes precisely. Some mistresses allow a man to wear a jockstrap for
the event, to give his balls some protection, but I don’t. It seems to
me that’s the whole fun of it, seeing his naked balls hanging down, and
his dick stiffly protruding. So I have to slice him just right, hitting
his buns and not his balls, or the whole evening might be spoilt.” She
giggled. “Especially if he spurts when I hit his balls. Sperm is a
terrible thing to waste.” She tossed back her ponytail. “Of course,
the best whipping of all it so flay a man’s seat and then, in the final
stroke, to kiss his balls with the whip, but just using the very tip of
the whip, so it just grazes him, scaring him, but not hurting him too
much to put him out of commission.”
“Oh!” I said. Her words sent a thrill of excitement through
me. I could barely contain a desire to rub myself as I heard her speak
of whipping a man’s balls. Absently my hands had found the front of my
panties. Without even thinking about it, listening to her, I’d lifted
the front of my nightgown. I’d slipped the fingers of both my hands
into the front of my panties. Now, with my fingers splayed over my
puss, I felt a strong desire to seek out my clit and rub it.
Eveline laughed at me. “I think you are not quite the innocent
in your mind that you are in your body,” she teased. She knew I was a
virgin. I was only 12, how could I be anything else?
“Could I--?” I asked. My voice was quavering as I spoke.
“No,” she said abruptly, guessing my question. “You’re too
young, too little.” She eyed my bosoms. “Well, ‘little’ might not be
the correct anatomical description anymore but...”
“Please?” I asked. Suddenly, being denied it, I wanted it.
“Sally, we *fuck* at those parties,” Eveline told me bluntly.
My fingers found my spot and I couldn’t help diddling it.
“Ooooh! I want to!” I cried. (Though, in truth, I think I was a little
confused at what I wanted just then.)
Eveline snapped her whip against the ground. The sound made me
shiver and nearly leap into the air. I strained up on my toes. My
fingers strained within my panties. Eveline reached out and grasped
both my wrists with the long fingers of her hand and pulled them
stickily out of my panties.
“Don’t be a baby,” she admonished. I blushed. I wiped my
fingers against my bare thighs. I felt a need within my slit that
burned to be satisfied. My panties had a wet spot in the crotch.
Looking at me, Eveline let her own hand go to the front of her
hotpants. She unbuttoned the top button, but she was deep in thought
and I think she didn’t even know what she was doing.
“Alright,” she said. “I’ll let you join. But don’t think
you’re going to be special or anything, even if you are my niece. You
have to find a friend to bring along, so there will be two of you, the
same age, to lean on and give each other confidence. I’ll be too busy
to give you anything more than cursory guidance.”
“Oh, thank you!” I cried. I threw myself against her, my pussy
still buzzing, knowing she was excited too at what we’d agreed on. I
felt my bare belly rubbing against hers. Though I was shorter, I stood
on tip toe, and she I think bent her knees a little to receive me as I
threw myself upon her.
Eveline stroked my blonde hair. It was like finespun gold, a
long delicate mane, though pulled at the moment into twin little-girl
pigtails to keep it from being mussed as I slept. I liked my hair. It
was long, like Barbi’s, and lots of people said I looked like her,
especially since my breasts had appeared.
“You can thank me more helpfully than by just hugging me,”
Eveline told me. “I need your bottom for target practise.”
“No!” I cried. But instead of letting go of her I hugged her
tighter.
“Don’t worry, we’ll do it indoors, in your bedroom,” Eveline
said. “Out of the dirt. And I’ll wash off the whip before I use it.”
“Ohhhh, please don’t!” I pleaded. But I hugged her tightly,
until she finally had to take me by my pigtails and pull on them to get
me off her. Then, taking my hand, she led me from the barn. Pepper
whinnied to me as we left.
“Bye, Pepper,” I said, turning and looking at my favorite
horse. I think he mounted Downy when we left.
The wind lifted my nightgown again. It was noon now, but I
hardly noticed, for I was walking beside Eveline. She’d restored her
top just outside the barn. It was loosely tied, like before. Her
breasts threatened to bounce from the cups as we walked. She didn’t
realize that she’d unbuttoned the top button of her hot pants and they
hung low on her hips. I could see her bikini panties within, where the
hot pants sagged down to reveal them. She walked with a proud stride
across the grass, her legs clad in knee-length riding boots of the
finest leather. I hurried along beside her, my feet bare in the grass,
my nightgown uplifted to show my belly and the thin pair of panties I
wore. Eveline’s long whip trailed in the grass, snake-like, slithering
along behind us.
Next to the back door there was a puddle of fresh rainwater,
slowly evaporating in the summer heat. It had rained last night,
putting me to sleep. Now Eveline pointed to the puddle and told me to
splash my feet in them to clean them. When I had, she stepped into the
puddle, so that the soles of her boots would be clean. Then she
splashed her whip in the puddle, flicking it in the water so it looked
like a water snake. When she lifted it from the puddle, dripping with
water, we both ran our hands along the whip to clean them.
“It feels, like a penis,” I said, breathlessly. It was
thickest at the handle and then tapered slowly down its length until it
was very thin at the tip, where the tassel was.
“Have you ever felt a penis?” Eveline asked me. The sun was
hot on our bodies.
“No,” I breathed.
“Penises have a strange shape,” Eveline said. “They are a
thick shaft, elongated when the man is excited but shrivelled quite
small when he’s not. Near the head the shaft briefly tapers inward,
then, just when you might think it’s tapering down to a more manageable
size, it flares out into a big, bulbous head. Of course, wherever the
man wishes to stick himself, the head, which is biggest, must go in
first, which seems quite impractical to me, given that a girl must get
used to a penis. You’d think God would have made a man’s penis like a
whip, thickest at the base, and smallest at the tip. But no, it’s just
the other way round.”
“mmmmm,” I hummed, listening. I wanted to stick my fingers in
my panties again but they were wet from the puddle-water.
“Let’s go inside,” Eveline said. I bit my lip but let her take
my hand. Together we mounted the back steps and went into the house.
“Upstairs,” Eveline told me. “Go to your bedroom and get on your bed,
like you’re going to sleep, or take a nap. But put your head in your
pillow and kneel, with your bottom up in the air. I’ll be up in a
minute.”
“Eveline!” I said disconsolately.
“It is important that you prove to me you can obey me if you’re
going to go to my parties,” she said. We were in the kitchen. She went
over to a cabinet and opened it. “Go on!” she said. “I’ve seen you
take naps in the afternoon, when uncle asks you to go out and feed the
horses. You have no problem getting in bed then, so that your indulgent
uncle makes me feed the horses instead. Of course, you don’t mind
riding them...”
I pouted and darted from the kitchen. I heard the cabinet door
bang shut. She was right, of course. The last week I’d done almost no
chores at all, and uncle had said it was okay, that I was a guest, and
so Eveline had to do my chores instead. I felt sorry for her and for
myself and as I speculated on why I’d been so bad, I went upstairs to my
bedroom. I stood and looked at myself in my mirror. I liked my new
breasts, but I hated them too, because they made me much more noticed by
all the boys (and even men!) than I’d ever been before. I untied my
pigtails.
Eveline walked into the room. She was carrying her whip and a
small black satchel. “Did I say to primp?” she asked. “Get in bed!
Auntie and Uncle might come home any minute, and I know you aren’t going
to be quiet like you should be!”
“Ohhhh!” I cried. I didn’t want to go through with it now.
But I got on my bed. It was still unmade. Eveline noticed, tutted.
She placed the satchel on top of my dresser and unzipped it. She took
out a bottle of vinegar. I guessed she’d gotten it from the kitchen.
She unscrewed the top. I smelt the pungent tang of the vinegar. She
drew a rag from the satchel. It was white, like cotton. She wet a rag
with the vinegar, then wiped it along the length of her whip.
“It will sting better with vinegar on it,” she explained.
Poutingly I put my head in my pillow and raised my ass. I felt my
nightgown slip down from my waist. It gathered around my breasts.
“Plus, in the accidental event that I should draw blood, it will be
sanitary,” she said.
“Oh, please Eveline, I’m sorry I didn’t do my chores and I do
want to go to your parties but...” I protested.
“With or without?” she asked simply.
“Hmmm?” I queried.
“With panties or without,” she said. She advanced toward the
bed, putting the open bottle of vinegar and the rag on my dresser,
holding only her whip. She reached behind her back. Awkwardly she
untied the drawstring of her bra that looped around her back. The cups,
loosed, fell from the prominence of her breasts to lie in the space
between them. Then she reached up behind her neck and untied the
drawstring there. Her bra fell away, leaving her breasts nude and
uncovered. They joggled a little in their newfound freedom and rose and
fell with her breaths.
“With panties, of course!” I said.
Eveline reached out, and caught the back of my panties and
yanked them down. “Then you must do it without, since you wish the
opposite,” she said. I felt a cool rush of air on my bottom and
worriedly flexed my hinds. I was going to rise up, but suddenly I felt
quite saucy. I wiggled my bare ass at her and said, impishly, “What if
I cut a fart?”
Eveline stepped back. “Try to be good and not yell too
loudly,” she said.
I felt bolder, in my new condition. I’d never showed a girl my
bottom before. Eveline was seven years my senior and it seemed okay,
somehow, to tease her with my naked ass. I’d never have done such a
thing to my friend Tabitha but with an older girl it seemed delightfully
silly and naughty.
“What if I cut a fart?” I asked again, giggling. Like Touche
Turtle I proffered my ass, as if it were his little sword, and I seemed
to wish to joust with her. “What if I cut a fart?” I said again, and
was giggling quite hard now, uncontrollably so.
Eveline simply looked at me, sizing me up. She took the pad
with vinegar on it and ran it over her whip again, down the entire
length of it, soaking the cord with the pad. Then she re-dipped the pad
in the bottle of vinegar, drew it out dripping, and wet her whip yet
again. All this time I was giggling loudly and brandishing my bare ass
at her as if I was Supergirl and her whip couln’t hurt me in the least.
“Okay, I’m ready,” I said finally, feeling quite daring. “Whip
me on my heinie so I can go to your parties and steal all your men!”
Sassily I gyrated my bare bottom around, feeling my tight cheeks as they
rubbed back and forth against each other, loving the bittersweet touch
of my pussy lips. I was naked, save for my nightgown wreathed around my
boobs, and my panties ringing my thighs. Naked and wanting and randy,
loving my nudity and how easily I could tease her about the chores I’d
skipped, and how I might swipe all her boyfriends. “Whip me, Eveline!”
I cried, giggling. “Whip me hard!”
SWIIIIIIICK! Suddenly, without warning, without even putting
down the pad of vinegar, which might have inspired me to leap from my
bed, Eveline gave me my first stroke. It slashed across my rump and
imparted a deep stinging to it. That was no mere touch of the tassel!
That was a full-blown stroke, meant not to kiss my bottom demurely but
to teach me a lesson!
“Yoo hoo hoo! Not THAT hard!” I cried. I waggled my ass like
a dog emerging from water. Except I was pulling my tushy from fire, or
so it felt! I clapped my hands back to my bottom and squeezed my
cheeks. They were big in my hands. I clutched at them and felt tears
spill from my eyes onto my pillow.
“Take your hands away!” Eveline warned me. But I didn’t, of
course. In retaliation she let her whip fly again, and this time it
struck me across my fingers.
“Nooooo!” I gasped. My hands darted from my bottom to my
mouth. I sucked on my fingers, my nose and eyes buried in my pillow and
my mouth blubbering.
I sensed Eveline approaching me but what worse thing could she
do to me than she already had? Her hands threaded themselves round my
head and down past my face. I heard a clinking of steel and then cold
steel pressed against my wrists. There was a snap! First one, then the
other of my wrists were locked inside police handcuffs. The satchel!
It had contained more than just the vinegar and a rag, I realized.
“Now keep your bottom high,” Eveline told me. “The next
party’s tommorrow night and I want you in attendance. I’d whip you
harder but I have to keep the party in mind.” She stepped back,
oblivous to my crying. “Of course, I could whip you hard and have you
show up with a red tushy, but I’m not that sort of mistress. Only a
cruel mistress would humiliate a girl like that, introducing her to all
the men with a red bottom, already marked. They might take undue
advantage of her, thinking her nothing, a mere tramp. You my dear will
be highly prized, and you’ll have a delicate white ass. So be happy the
party isn’t a week from now, or I’d flay you in the manner you deserve!”
She took up her whip again. I might have leaped from the bed,
and tried to run. I might have lain down on my side and tried to hide
my bottom from her. But, instead, knowing not why, perhaps because I
felt guilty about not doing my chores, perhaps because I wanted to go to
her party, I kept my derriere well-poised to receive the whip. She had
said she would not do me hard. Fighting the cuffs, wishing somehow I
could free my hands, I offered my bare hiney and my fig. She drew apart
my legs with a hand pressed to the inside of my thighs.
“Very good, you hold the pose well,” she said. “You are not
old in years, but you have a woman’s sense of what is required.”
Eveline drew back. I heard the whip slither across the floor.
And then it was upon me again, whip-cracking, singing across my
hiney and leaving a bright trail of pain in its wake. I shrieked. I
gyrated my hips. I prayed for relief from the burning that scorched my
bottom. Eveline waited, letting me savor the blow on my cheeks before
giving me another. I did not savor it, but I did somehow still relish
the nakedness of my ass. Never before had I knelt like this with my
panties pulled down to my thighs, my bottom so raw and exposed and
seeking, somehow, to be touched indiscreetly. My bosoms pressed hard to
the bed and were stiff-nippled. With each bounce that the whip imparted
to my body they grazed across the coverlet, my body lifting up, my boobs
lifting, scraping forward, then finally settling back into the bed. The
pillow and I were slowly inching our way up against the bed’s headboard.
SWAAAK! I felt the whip again. It caressed my bare globe and
pushed me up, forward, dragging my breasts with me. My nipples left the
coverlet of the unmade bed and found themselves dangling heavily upon
the sheet. Like a snake the coverlet wound underneath me, covering the
bed here, but not there, a roughness against one of my knees, stripped
back under the other, letting it press against the smooth sheet.
Eveline whipped me again, then again, keeping the strokes light
now, though they still hurt enough to make me shout. Finally she threw
down the whip. I heard the handle of it clatter upon the wooden floor.
Thankfully I threw myself on my belly. I lay with my bare bottom
steaming behind me, crisscrossed with red marks from the whip. I wanted
to reach back behind myself and console it, but my hands were bitterly
bound by the cuffs. They cut into my wrists. I bit at the chain
connecting them. It was no use. I was captive.
“Poor baby,” Eveline said with a wry grin. I did not look at
her face but I knew she was smiling. “Now there’s more work for me. I
have to put cream on your bottom to make it all better for the party,”
she said. I felt her sit on the bed. A cap popped. Her hand passed
over my bottom. My cheeks flinched. I didn’t like anything touching it
now. It was too tender.
“Don’t! Leave it be!” I begged. I wanted only the air upon
it. Not even that, perhaps, for it was insidiously cool against my hot
pumpkin, giving relief yet not enough, for I squirmed on my bed, my
cheeks tormenting me.
I heard a pop, as of a cap removed. There was a squirting
sound and I felt a rush of cold cream splatter onto my bottom.
Eveline’s fingers touched me again. She rubbed my seat. I squirmed,
squealed. “Hush!” she scolded. “What if Unca and Auntie are pulling up
the drive?” Gradually she spread the cream all over my bottom. I
suffered, but it felt good, too. Her cream-smeared fingers delved
between my thighs. Defensively I tried to close them.
“Do not,” Eveline told me. Her words were strong, harsh. I
feared being made to take the whip anew and kept my legs open as she
insisted. She pressed within my slit and found my clit. She diddled it
with the tips of her fingers.
“Noooo!” I begged. My voice rushed from my lungs, pleading,
yet secretly pleased, in a naughty way. I had my hands cuffed under me,
pressed to my throat. I tilted my head down and bit into one of my
fingers. It felt too good, Eveline playing with me. Suddenly I clamped
my thighs together. Her hand was trapped within. An ecstatic shiver
seized me.
“Yes, little one, you must have your due, it is time,” Eveline
told me. I glanced back at her a moment later. To my surprise I saw
her other hand had dipped into the front of her hot pants. They were
completely unbuttoned now. She was playing with her pussy and, as I
watched, she slipped her fingers into her panties. “Open your legs,”
she told me softly. I obeyed. She continued diddling me as she found
her own spot and began to pleasure herself.
“No! No! No!” I cried. My voice came in short bursts of
passion. But she did not stop. She knew I didn’t want her to.
Together we rode her inquisitive fingers until at last we did hear her
mother and father returning. We ceased our playing, but only
reluctantly.
Eveline’s father tromped upstairs in his boots. She barely got
her bra tied on in time, the cuffs unlocked from my wrists and put back
in the satchel.
“Did you girls feed the horses?” Eveline’s father asked. He
looked into my room. Auntie appeared beside him.
“Sally, what are you doing still in your nightdress? It’s two
in the afternoon!” Auntie asked me. I lay in my bed on my back, my
panties hastily pulled up round my waist. I bit my lip. My
well-creamed bottom burned underneath me. Eveline sat on my bed.
Auntie looked at her, at me. Our faces were flushed.
“We -- we were wrestling,” Eveline said. My bed was a wreck.
The whip was under the bed, the satchel closed. There was a smell of
vinegar in the room, feminine odors too, but the vinegar masked it.
“Well, be about your chores, girls! Horses can’t eat the air!”
Auntie replied.
“Yes, mother,” Eveline answered.
When we went to the barn we found Pepper, mounted atop Downy.
“Yes, it is the season for mating,” Eveline said to me in a
far-off voice. The horses continued their copulation. We did not
disturb them.
30
----------------------- Dreamgirls! -----------------------
-Free e-mail subscriptions: No longer available due to mailbombing of
my Internet account(s) by right-wing Christians.
-Currently I am: roller39@mail.idt.net
-formerly I was andrewroller@sprintmail.com, roller66@inreach.com,
roller666@aol.com Read my complete works under these names by
going to: http://www.excite.com (Click on ‘newsgroups’ and search
under my various former screen names). (Also you can read irrelevant
bullshit posted by right-wing Christians.)
-Recent back issues at Usenet newsgroup: alt.sex.stories.moderated
-For all back issues, send e-mail to: file.request@backdrop.com
- Free plug: http://www.netusa.net/~eli/erotica/assm/
-Free minicomics: send a stamped, self-addressed envelope & age
statement to: Jim Corrigan, P.O. Box 3663, Phenix City, AL 36868
- JOIN the world’s greatest organization! Send $35.00 to The North
American Man/Boy Love Association for a one-year membership.
NAMBLA, P.O. Box 174, Midtown Station, New York, NY 10018.
-Naughty Naked Dreamgirls (Library of Congress ISSN: 1070-1427) is
copyright 1997 and a trademark of Andrew Roller. Work by others
copyright 1997 by the respective copyright holder.
-END OF 272 EMISSION
--
+--------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `------------+
| story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us | story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us |
| Archive site +--------------------+------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ |
\ <URL:http://www.netusa.net/~eli/erotica/assm/> .../assm/faq.html> /