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From: Andrew Roller <roller39@IDT.NET>
Subject: Chambers of Love part 5 of 18 (NND)
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_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
CHAMBERS OF LOVE
_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
Chapter Five
It took several days for our bottoms to recover. We spent the
time lounging by our master's pool. We called him "master" now, still
not knowing his name, for he had claimed each of us over the blocks,
with his cock.
It was summer and we were in no hurry to return home. My
mother was still away on vacation. Our master delighted in seeing us
traipse around with our red bottoms. We wore dog collars about our slim
necks, pretty captives kept and cosseted for his pleasure. Marguerite
hovered over us, making sure we performed our chores; sucking our master
off each morning, eating topless with him at meals, saying our prayers
for him in the evening. He fucked us not, though, waiting until our
bottoms healed.
I lay idly on a chaise lounge. Above me the interstices of a
maple tree cast patterns on my body. I was topless, with only a
trifling bikini panty between me and my master's lust. Master insisted
that we keep our boobies and bottoms pure white. Our privates were his
canvas, Marguerite said ominously. So we weren't allowed to lounge in
the sun. When we girls lay out by the pool it was always under a tree
or umbrella.
Helga was to my left, sleeping prettily in her own chaise
lounge, and to my right was Julie. She tossed, no doubt still haunted
by her trials on the bridal bed in the punishment chamber. I had seen
some of it, had gasped at the rigor with which she was fucked. We
assumed she was pregnant now, carrying the seed of master or one of his
vigorous guests.
Through the shimmering haze of mid-afternoon heat a prim
Oriental woman stepped towards me. She was clad as I was, but with
spiked pumps. They glittered in the sun. She bent over me, her
abundant breasts swinging like ripe fruit. In a whispery voice she
said, "Come, you have been selected."
Still lost in my daydreams I made to rise, uncertain; she
pulled gently on my arm. "There is no time, come," she said as I made
to bid my companions goodbye. Led by the hand she took me within
master's mansion. I was taken upstairs and she supervised me as I was
made to shower, then dress. She did my makeup for me and combed out my
hair, complimenting it. But her limited English gave me no inkling of
who had requested me, or why.
I was ushered out to a waiting limousine. A gentleman met me
and slipped me into the back seat beside a woman who was introduced to
me as his wife. I was wearing a low cut tube dress that made no bones
about showing off my tits. The woman greeted me by smiling
appreciatively at my bosoms. My legs were just as amply revealed, and I
tugged nervously at my wickedly short skirt to try to get some of it
between my pantied bottom and the car's leather seat.
We sped away from the mansion, leaving behind my friends Helga
and Julie, perhaps even master himself! I had no idea where I was
going. My two new acquaintances offered me wine and biscuits, and
gently pried my name and nationality from me. They were French, of
course, and seemed delighted to have an American girl in their presence.
"You are just what we asked for," the woman, Marie, said
happily.
"Oui, Madam?" I asked, testing the single word of French I'd
learned since arriving.
"Yes, yes," the man replied, taking my hand firmly but
delicately. "Young, vivacious, with, how do you say, that Mid-Western
naivete?" I nodded, having little else in the way of options. The man
was quite large and seemed to have spent many years as a body builder,
though he was in his forties now. He was still fit, though, with no gut
like most men his age. He wore a dark sport coat and his wife was in a
pantsuit. She was younger, perhaps by 15 years, and sensuous.
They told me we were going to a party and, indeed, we soon
arrived. It was a small, well-kept house shrouded in a grove of
overhanging willow trees. In the distance I could hear a gurgling
brook. A woman in a blouse and jeans answered the door when we knocked
and merrily let us in.
"Hello Kimmy," the woman in jeans said upon being told my
name. "You will like partying with us." She had a husband, a
broad-shouldered man in his mid-twenties. He grinned at me as he sat
watching a game on television in the living room. The woman in jeans
was named Joanna and she was 23. She told me she was a Pisces and asked
my sign.
We drifted into the living room and settled comfortably onto a
pair of settees. I found myself between Marie and Joanna. We chatted
about France and the zodiac, America, and the game on T.V., which the
two men watched religiously when it was not being interrupted by a
commercial. The game was soccer, a semi-final of some kind.
Presently Joanna asked me to dance, as we do it in America.
Without music I stood and began to shyly gyrate. They urged me on and I
became more adventurous, sexily lifting up my skirt in back to see if
the men, absorbed in their game, would notice. Mischievously, I flipped
up the front, to squeals of delight from Joanna and Marie. But the men
were so preoccupied that they did not even notice. There must have been
something in the drinks which made me act so naughtily.
Marie rose from the couch and quietly took my hand. She put
her finger to her lips, indicating that I should be silent. With a
smile she led me from the living room. Joanna followed. The men were
still absorbed in their game.
Where, I wondered, was Marie taking me? I wasn't sure I wanted
to know. Helpfully she slipped a hand under my dress and palmed my
bottom.
"Your master was so gracious to let me have you," Marie
breathed into my ear. We came to a door and she let me inside. Joanna
followed us in and closed the door, then quietly locked it.
We were in a sumptuous bedroom.
"I-I'm not sleepy," I protested. Marie laughed.
"I only wish for you to be comfortable," Marie said. Out of
the corner of my eye I saw Joanna pluck a birch rod from a tall flower
vase. It dripped with brine.
"Turn around," Marie said to me. I did so, putting my back to
her. "Dance for me," she ordered, "Like you do in America."
Truculently I began to squirm about. Marie soon grasped me by
my jiggling ass and cupped it, squeezed it. I thought perhaps she
wished to slow me and danced less saucily. But Marie breathed to me
that I should dance more sexily.
"Perhaps if you take her dress off..." Joanna advised.
"Yes, we must do that in any event," Marie agreed. She told me
to raise up my arms. Taking the hem of my skirt she pulled it upwards,
exposing first my panties and then my belly. As the dress cleared my
braless bosoms it set my stiff nipples to wiggling.
Joanna gasped at the sight of my springy bosoms. I felt a
sudden pride, thrust them out obscenely as my dress was pulled over my
head. Briefly I was in darkness, my face hidden by my dress. Yet my
titties stuck out, invitingly naked, the tender paps pink and
vulnerable.
Marie dropped my dress to the floor. Modestly I cupped my
titties, hiding the nipples. Marie urged me to dance more vigorously.
I stood there, my back to her, and waggled my bottom as salaciously as I
could. She slipped a finger into either side of my little panties and
drew them inward until they were fully stuck in my ass crack. I wore
thong panties now, my restless bottom cheeks deliciously exposed.
Suddenly I farted. It was just a little one, but Marie and
Joanna heard it and laughed. I felt hugely embarrassed, dropping my
hands for a moment and blushing fiercely.
"How rude," Marie said then in a disapproving voice. Fearfully
I lifted my hands to protect my breasts. "And don't think I haven't
noticed how conceited you are about your lovely tits. Turn around and
show them to me."
My palms lingering over my breasts I turned about to face her,
still anxious at what she might have in store for me. But when my eyes
met hers I let my hands fall, so eagerly and expectantly did she greet
the sight of my half-covered tits.
"They're gorgeous," she breathed, astonished. "And so large
for a 15-year-old. You make me jealous." She ordered me to dance some
more, facing her, and to wiggle my tits as hard as I could. I obeyed,
proud of my twin endowments, oblivious now to the wickedness of my
behavior.
Joanna came up behind me with one arm hidden behind her back.
Inexplicably I flaunted my ass at her. She grabbed my makeshift thong
panties and stripped them down to my knees. Then she produced the
birch, which she had been hiding behind her back as she approached me.
It consisted of several long twigs tied together with a yellow ribbon.
It was wet with salt, drops of water still clinging ominously to the
buds.
I yelped as she gave me the first of several swift cuts.
"So you like to be naughty but don't like being punished for
it?" Joanna asked, hitting me again on my poor bare rump. I danced
about desperately, smarting from the blows.
"Give her more encouragement," Marie said. "She can dance more
sensuously than that, can't you Kimmy?" Her voice was thick with her
French accent, so excited was she by my antics.
"Ooch! Ooch! Please!" I fretted, as the rod sliced into my
soft, wobbly heinie. I tried to protect my ass with my hands but Joanna
whipped them away.
"She will be too marked if I continue," Joanna said now in
French to Marie.
"Alright," Marie replied. "Get over to the bed, American
girl."
My panties ringing my knees, my bottom stinging, I shuffled
spraddle-legged over to Joanna's sumptuous bed. The covers were already
turned down. Weepily I mounted, briskly rubbing my heinie in hopes of
soothing it.
Marie came up behind me and grasped my thin shoulder.
"I-I'm sorry," I whimpered. "It does hurt so."
"Poor baby," Marie said, stroking my hair. "I know it hurts."
She kissed me gently on my face, on the cheek. "Don't worry, it's my
turn now." To my amazement she pulled me from the bed and got on
herself. Kneeling, her back erect and facing me, she ordered me to
unzip her. I didn't know whether to be involved or not, but anything
was better than being struck by that torturous birch. From behind I
unzipped her. She was nude inside her pantsuit. I helped her out of
it. Behind me Joanna slipped out of her jeans and blouse. She
presented herself to me naked, and asked meekly how I would like her.
I felt a sudden overwhelming need to dominate the women. This
was no doubt so because my ass was still flaming from their
mistreatment.
"Get on the bed, beside Marie," I ordered. Joanna handed me
the birch rod and begged me not to hurt her too badly. "I will hurt you
just as much as I please," I said, and seemed to delight Joanna at
saying this.
"She needs to be hit hard," Marie piped up. Joanna said
something in French to Marie, and got on the bed.
Astonishingly, both women now bent forward until their chins
touched the sheets. I rubbed my bottom and told them to raise theirs.
I looked behind me to briefly check the condition of my ass. I had a
beautiful tan, with the exception of my startlingly white bottom which
was crisscrossed with about a dozen bright red slash marks. "Oh, what
will master say, when he sees this?" I wondered aloud at the condition
of my bottom. Before me the two women rolled their bottoms expectantly,
and turned their faces toward one another and kissed.
"You know this is going to hurt," Joanna breathed to Marie.
"But it's for our husbands," Marie replied.
"What?" I asked suddenly, for I'd spotted a little camera
behind me. "You're-you're filming all this?"
"Yes," both women replied together. "That's why our husbands
pretended not to see us leave. We're going to a party this weekend and
we need to take a homemade porno film to show."
"So you secretly filmed me being humiliated?" I asked,
indignant.
"We were assigned to make one with a beautiful, underage girl,"
Marie said.
"Well, you're going to really get it," I replied angrily. "See
how your friends like seeing you bawling you're heads off!" I lifted
the birch and awkwardly struck the first blow. Joanna rocked forward.
I suddenly realized I'd never whipped anyone in my life.
I struck again, Marie this time, but she hardly moved.
"Harder dear, or we'll still be here this weekend and miss the
party," Marie said.
"I-I'm sorry," I said. "I've never done this before."
"Well, get with it or I'll have to give you more instruction,"
Joanna replied.
"Alright, I said. "I'll try my best."
"Just whack away as hard as you can," Marie said. "Don't spare
us, for the losers of the film contest must be harshly whipped, by
professionals."
"Here, let me inspire you," Joanna said. She rose from the bed
and walked to a nightstand. She returned with a gag, and bound it over
Marie's mouth. Then, still standing before me enchantingly naked, she
gagged herself also. Then she thought a moment and returned to the
nightstand and pulled twin handcuffs from a drawer. She cuffed Marie
and then beckoned me to bind her. I complied, as much a servant as a
domme. Joanna got back on the bed and assumed her former position.
Both women put their captive wrists between their legs, and began softly
to frig themselves. Their bare bottoms gyrated invitingly, begging to
be punished for their naughty ways.
I felt quite angry now that they were indulging themselves by
wantonly masturbating before me. I felt used, like a servant of these
women, for some partiers' pleasure who I would probably never meet.
I bit my lower lip and whacked Joanna's bottom hard. Then I
walloped Marie, and she bucked forward under the force of the blow. I
knew I had the hang of it now, albeit I didn't know how to sweetly
polish the bottom, but only how to forcefully flay it. I grunted,
inflicting as much pain as possible. The women's eyes bulged and they
rocked on their knees.
"Keep your chins down," I said. "And keep those asses high!"
Shiveringly they obeyed as I beat them ever more viciously. I had no
sense of how to whip gracefully, but suspected it was the unprofessional
awkwardness of my blows that they wanted to film. A more experienced
flagellator would be able to make the whipping last all night, and leave
few marks. But with me they were looking for an amateur, and marks had
to be left if they were to show up nicely on camera.
I whipped away, remorsefully pausing now and then to see if
they wanted to stop. But they just kept masturbating, responding
involuntarily to my blows. About half-way through they each climaxed in
turn. I watched with fascination as their bottoms became bright red,
then bruised. Finally I threw down the haggard birch rod and refused to
hurt them anymore.
"You'll have to do it yourselves if you need any more," I
said. "I'm not a sadist and never will be!" I ran to the door, figured
quickly how to unlock it. I flung it open and went crying to the front
of the house.
"Well, you look delightful!" the men greeted me, still watching
their game, or a follow-on game.
"Oh, take me home!" I insisted. "I'll have no more whipping
today, thank you!" I turned and stomped toward the front door. The men
admired the fresh stripes on my bottom, rising up and following me.
They came up alongside me on either side and insisted I return to the
couch with them.
Like a prisoner I was taken and forcibly sat down between them,
my bottom perched on one of their knees. Politely they fed me potato
chips and dip. I sat like a captive sparrow between them, but soon grew
happy. I felt like a little girl, sexily teasing my father, or one of
his friends.
One of the men began to stroke the insides of my thighs. He
complimented their softness. Higher and higher his fingers rose up the
creamy flesh. I spread my legs helpfully. Finally he touched my
button. I giggled, a kind of laughing moan. The other man tugged at my
stiff nipples. They concentrated between themselves on my nipples and
my clit. I stirred on their knee. In the distance I heard a sound of
whipping. I imagined Joanna, her hands still bound before her, whipping
Marie with both hands cuffed together.
With my fingers I unzipped the men as I sat hopefully between
them. They popped out of their flies, rigid and pulsing. I encircled
each of their cocks with one of my little hands and began happily
pumping them even as they touched me in my most intimate places.
All was reflected in a distant mirror, me bouncing between them,
masturbating both at once, them making me squirm awfully.
"Are you close to coming?" the man on whose knee I was sitting
asked me.
"I-I think so," I breathed huskily, becoming more serious now
as my pleasure mounted.
"How about you, Dave?"
"Yea, I can barely hold it in," Dave shuddered.
"I want all three of us to come together," my laptop companion
said. "Leave off of Dave for a minute until I catch up."
I obeyed, impressed by the decadence of it all. I never
thought I could be so sinful!
My suitors and I continued our mutual masturbating, with the
exception of Dave who needed a rest. Finally Greg (my laptop suitor,
whose name I didn't yet know) gasped that he was ready to spurt. "Are
you ready?" Greg asked me. I nodded that I was.
My eyes closed now, my face flushed, I reached over and gently
grasped Dave's quivering member again. He gasped and thrust up his
hips. I pumped Greg forcefully so he wouldn't be left behind. Then, to
my intense delight, I looked about and saw both men spurting at once,
like fountains. A shudder racked my body and I flew into an orgasm,
even as I admired the gushing cocks. I rubbed them vigorously, happily
gazing through desire-filled eyes as their udder-like rods drenched my
fingers with their milk. The blades of my hands repeatedly struck their
lovely, huge scrotums which bulged out beneath. They were drawn up
tightly to deliver up the precious seed. I vowed to greedily lick the
men clean as soon as we were finished.
The women entered the room about five minutes later to find me
kneeling between their husbands, happily licking their balls.
"Oh, so that's what you're up to," Marie said. She was rubbing
her hiney, as was Joanna.
"Well, I hope you're happy now," I said to the women between
fervent licks. The men insisted that the two women turn around. To my
shock they presented bottoms awful with weals. Cream gleamed wetly on
their buttocks, a somewhat futile attempt at soothing the flesh.
"May we join you?" Marie and Joanna begged. "Our butts need to
be spermed to ease the pain."
"I don't wanna," I said through a mouthful of testicles. "You
got what you asked for. These cocks are mine for the whole night!" The
men grinned at each other.
"I'm afraid she's our guest and must have her way," Greg smiled
at his wife. "You two will have to content yourselves with your birch
rod this evening."
"But we did it for you--" Joanna protested.
"Forget it," Marie said. "What do you think you'd do if you
had a 15-year-old girl merrily licking your cock?"
"I'd fuck her brains out the minute I got hard," Joanna
admitted.
"And you'd pray to get hard again so you could fuck her all
night," Marie said.
"And then when he was utterly empty I'd put on a dildo and fuck
her myself," Joanna said. I didn't say anything in response to that but
I did feel a shiver race up my spine. I was going to be the best-fucked
American girl in Paris, I could see. I didn't know if I was going to
let the women fuck me, but I could see that I wouldn't be quite so
virginally tight by morning.
***
Well, its hard to keep two beautiful women down, especially if
they're standing right in front of you, naked and wet. The men
stiffened quickly under my ministrations. I was more or less swept away
with pleasure by then, my conscience on vacation. My uterus was calling
the shots now.
Joanna, always the boldest, suggested that we make a little
porno film. The men cared not what they did, as long as they got to
poke it with their newly rekindled things. It was suggested that I be
the star attraction. I knew the plot would mostly involve my pussy.
Haltingly I let them lead me back to the bedroom I'd so
recently, definitely, abandoned. Once more I found myself within it,
admiring its opulence. Joanna dressed in a severe black cire gown as
the others, naked, readied the camera equipment. There would be no
hidden cameras this time. More lights were brought in, set up. A
microphone was placed close to the bed, to record my moans...my
screams? Mostly I just stood watching, trembling. My twitching pussy
insisted that I stay.
I was to play the "victim," of course. They gave me delicate
white schoolgirl panties to put on, which looked like they'd been made
for a girl of twelve. I struggled into them. They had me tie my hair
back in a ponytail. Then they handed me denim cutoffs. I felt awkward,
reluctant to put them on. My cunny wanted to stay naked. Silently it
fussed at me for putting on clothes.
I pulled the denim shorts together in front and buttoned them
up with difficulty. In back they seemed to crease the upper cheeks of
my bottom. I felt back there, then looked in a mirror. These shorts
would get me arrested if I wore them anyplace but a bedroom. My butt
cheeks hung out like two shapely pieces of meat, white and tender and
intriguingly marked by the birch. Even in Paris I don't think they'd
have let a girl parade herself around in these, especially with the
birch marks showing. The nothing panties had already settled in my butt
crack and could not be seen, even with most of my ass showing.
I walked back and forth a few times, looking at myself in the
room's several mirrors and waggling my ass like a prostitute. Proudly I
noted the effect my alluringly clad figure had on my friends. Joanna
stopped dressing to watch, the men put down their camera equipment and
guiltily stroked themselves.
Marie stopped me and slipped a small checkered shirt over my
diminutive shoulders. She tied it underneath my breasts with fawning
eyes, leaving my bosoms uncovered. Then she primly rolled up the
sleeves of the shirt to my elbows.
"There, all ready," she said. She bent and placed a soft kiss
on the tip of each of my nipples. "A little lipstick to brighten them
up."
Joanna finished dressing and came over to me and quickly went
over the script. As she spoke Dave was tied on the far side of the
bed's brass-poled headboard. Then Greg and Marie took up their
positions for filming. At the moment, the film crew was wearing less
than the actors! (Well, less than the main actors, I reminded myself,
for Dave would play a role too, as a captive cock. And he was already
naked and displaying his fine contribution to the film.)
Joanna became the steely, manipulative domme she was to play as
the moment of filming neared. She scared me, with the transformation
she had put herself through. Her eyes became hard, unfeeling, uncaring,
as if she would use me, unlovingly, for her pleasure only. As if I were
a dildo, a piece of plastic, nothing more.
***
I watched the film much later, deep in the night, on a VCR in
their living room, on a huge T.V. (No, my pussy was not shown actual
size. Rather it was shown about ten times larger than actual size, to
my intense embarrassment.) As I watched I became totally absorbed in
the flimsy plot, as if I were actually living it:
"But I'm not sleepy," I protested. My eyes were wide,
innocent. Already I had undone my shirt, as mistress commanded. My
boobies hung in all their high, firm glory from between the halves of
the checkered blouse. I looked like a farmer's daughter, except for my
heels.
"Not sleepy? That won't be a problem," Joanna replied. She
tore open the knot of my shirt with quick, almost desperate fingers,
then shoved the blouse off my shoulders. It fluttered to the floor
behind me. One by one she popped open the buttons of my once-valuable
Levi's 501 jeans. They were tattered and so deprived of most of their
fabric that it was hard to imagine anyone but lusty men regarding them
favorably. (Or lusty lesbians.) Down they went, pushed down my sleek
legs by Joanna who ordered me out of them. I was left with only my
schoolgirl panties and my ponytail.
Joanna led me inside. Breathlessly the camera followed. It
was a bedroom. (Surprise!) A big brass bed awaited me, the covers
already turned down. Instantly I saw why sleep wouldn't be necessary,
even desired. At the head of the bed a beautiful young male stood
bound, just beyond the poles, his own sticking between them. He must
have been a good ten inches, or more. He stabbed desperately at the
air, dejectedly, as if he'd been wanting to cum for days. He was
blindfolded.
The bed was elevated higher than most, necessitating a small
set of wooden steps which led up to it from the side. It seemed as much
made for displaying the human form as providing it with rest. Mistress
Joanna ordered me to mount.
"It's time for your nap," she cooed. "Such as it is." I took
the first step and then, remembering my pumps, I lifted my right foot up
behind me and made to slip them off.
"No," Joanna corrected me. "I want you to keep them on." I
nodded, smiled, reluctantly replaced my foot upon the step. Daintily I
clicked my way up the little staircase, my bottom wobbling as I
negotiated the staircase in my six inch spiked heels. I settled
my tushy onto the exposed sheets. They were cool and crisp. I felt
deliciously wicked as I lay back on them, clad only in my tiny white
bikini briefs. As a girl of 15 living with my mother I was only
accustomed to wearing PJ's and a flannel nightgown to bed. These
undies, made to look like any innocent walking home from school had them
on, were actually quite unusual for me in bed, and secretly thrilled
me.
I glanced back at the male just beyond the bed's brass-poled
headboard. I pretended not to know him. And, in reality, I knew
nothing more than his first name, and his glorious cock. Then I rolled
my head sideways to gaze at Joanna, my face glowing. Looking at me, she
pulled down the front of her decollete dress. Her pointy bosoms tumbled
out. Her tits were firm and her areolas shivered at me like a pair of
electric stoplights. Joanna advanced to the side of the bed. My
breasts, still juddering slightly, thrust up at her despite the
groundward pull of gravity.
Without saying a word, I knew Joanna wanted my panties.
Seductively I hooked my thumbs into the waistband. Hesitantly I pulled
them off my bottom, drawing both of my knees up toward my chin. Then I
exposed my pussy, drawing the bikini along my thighs toward my feet. I
slipped my panties over my knees, my labia lips and the undersides of my
thighs already startlingly revealed to Joanna's admiring eyes. Finally,
struggling a bit, I got my panties down to my ankles and plucked them
off the spikes of my heels. Still holding the bikini by the sides I
lifted it up and laid it modestly over my breasts. My legs, though,
still drawn up, fell open to reveal the pink lips of my cunt to Joanna.
She placed a fingernail in the open crack of my bottom and pushed it
rearward to my exposed anus. I gasped as she poked me there with her
nail. Then, switching fingers, her hand journeyed to my cunt, stroking
it and then settling on my pee hole.
"Turn over," Joanna said. "Get on all fours and press your
chin to the sheet." Smilingly I obeyed, though my stomach was
tightening with apprehension. "Lift your bottom," Joanna ordered.
"Higher, as high as you can. Now put your hands behind you and spread
yourself as wide as you can." Willingly I obeyed, though I was
trembling now. I felt the room's cool air caress the stretched dimple
of my anus as I forcibly displayed it to Joanna. She bent over me and
tested the resiliency of my tushy to make sure I was pulling it as far
apart as I could. The camera zoomed in. I had to hide my eyes as my
shithole took on a starring role.
"Good," Joanna complimented my celluloid twin. "You are very
brave for such a young girl. I'm going to give you something to help
you sleep."
"What?" I asked softly, curiously.
"A little workout, until you are exhausted and sleepy. I have
a fine new dildo and it's just dying to help you. You'll sleep like a
baby when we're through."
I had been watching the video alone, but now Greg entered the
room. Seeing my ass up there on the screen made him instantly randy.
We'd gotten carried away during the filming and I'd never actually
received the promised impalement of my buns. Greg clasped my frail
shoulders.
"Have you ever been fucked up the butt?" he asked.
"S-Some," I replied, looking anxiously over my hunched
shoulders at him. He laughed.
"For a girl of 15 I don't think 'some' would amount to much."
He pressed me forward, down, until my cheek touched the plush carpet.
My ass rose up. On the T.V. a dildo was introduced to my cunny, even as
Greg now quickly greased himself and jabbed into my anus with his
manhood. I squeaked, gasped, moaned with my T.V. self as we both
suffered penile assaults. The night promised to be even longer than it
had already been.
***
The five of us took a leisurely breakfast just before ten the
next morning. The men begged us to eat topless, so we did, despite the
lingering coldness of the previous night. Our nipples stood out stiffly
in the chilly air. I draped a shawl over my shoulders to keep warm. I
tied a little string across my bust to keep the shawl on, but made sure
it didn't cover the view of my titties. Below I wore a wrap about my
waist to modestly cover my pussy and thighs. It tied at the small of my
back and left my bottom alluringly bare. Marie dressed similarly while
Joanna wore a short transparent skirt from her ballet class. We all
wore pumps, of course, and assiduously repaired our makeup before
sitting down to our brunch.
Eggs Benedict topped the meal, along with a delicious
assortment of fruit and pancakes. Of course the men couldn't finish the
meal without pouring the pancake syrup over our tits. Marie protested
that we'd just taken a bath, but the men assured us they'd clean us up
themselves. We squirmed in our chairs as the men licked our bosoms.
They urged us to masturbate as they "cleaned" us, and we did,
reluctantly. Then, of course, they had to "clean" our natural juices
off our pussies. Such is the way of men. Afterward, of course, we had
to bathe all over again. We took a group shower that quickly
degenerated into a soapy mess. It ended with me bent over the side of
the tub as the men once again reminded me of their prowess, to the
delight of the onlooking women.
I remember well stepping into the tiled sterility of the
shower. The white china bathtub received my feet. Like some animal I
stood, my pussy twitching and wet, my chest still lightly heaving from
being licked. The men's cocks stemmed thickly before me. Pre-cum at
the tip of each slit announced the advanced state of their lust.
Lightly with a fingertip I traced the veins of Greg's organ. He reached
out to grasp my pussy but Joanna shooed his hand away. She presented
him with a bar of soap and a shocking request:
"Please, just for us girls, would you wash Dave's cock?"
Greg's eyes widened in disbelief. Marie licked her lips and nodded.
"No way!" Dave said. But he was the younger of the two. Greg
turned to him and clasped his protruding genitalia as if seizing the
loins of a young masturbating boy.
"You do have a fine penis," Greg said, caressing the boy's
organ with his fingertips even as he grasped it firmly in his palm.
Yes, Dave seemed just a boy now, his cheeks still ruddy with youth, his
frame handsome and unmarked.
The water was not yet on. Standing there, dry as a bone, Dave
watched as Greg rubbed the bar of soap all over his penis. It chafed
against his skin, leaving a white, powdery residue. To enhance the
eroticism, Joanna finally fetched a bottle of wine from the kitchen and
its contents were poured over Dave's cock. He moaned as he watched the
soap residue wetten. Greg rubbed him and a sea of bubbles erupted upon
his manhood. Greg let go of him then and Dave frothily presented
himself to our sight. Joanna laughed and snapped pictures of his
genitalia. Wet and dripping, no doubt in need of a fig leaf, it stood
centered upon a magnificent physique that yet remained dry.
His cock now well sudsed, still coated with little sparkling
bubbles, Dave set about giving a similar bath to Greg. Both men
trembled with a wretched desire to cum as Dave earnestly went about his
lewd task. Hotly I stuffed my thumb in my mouth and sucked it as I
stared. I wanted to rub myself but held back, as I saw the other girls
were doing. It was strange, this abstinence amidst such heady sights
and sounds. Joanna purred and put her arm around Marie's waist. They
exchanged glances, but nothing more. Greg grunted, gritted his teeth,
right at the brink of orgasm--thanks to another man! Dave desisted a
moment to allow his friend a chance to cool down. Then he was back at
the cock, stroking and squeezing it and pumping it. He cupped the balls
too and found them pleasantly heavy.
Joanna directed the men to sit their bare bottoms on the side
of the tub and watch now as we girls afforded them a similar treat.
They complied, and I thought they looked like twin Hercules waiting to
begin their labors. Legs open, cocks rigidly erect, they watched as
Joanna lined up Marie and me and directed us to soap each other.
We kissed first, moulding our dry bodies together, seeking,
perhaps, absolution in each other for what we were about to do. Then
Marie accepted soap from Joanna and went to work on my pussy. I stood,
looking down, a finger in the corner of my mouth. Joanna played
ringmistress, stroking our bottoms and giving us an occasional
admonitory slap. She did not even feign to be disciplining us for some
perceived wrong, merely wished to hear the sound of flesh against
flesh. We wriggled when she smacked one or the other of us, like eels
on a dry dock.
Finally the water got turned on and our shower proceeded
normally, insofar as five people crowded into a bathtub shower could
effectuate normality. We scrubbed ourselves and then each other.
Finally the men got their crack at me, pummeling me with their soapy
cocks. I think I know now what it feels like to be roto-rootered. I
hope in my next life I do not come back as clogged plumbing.
***
Just after noon I was taken back to master's house. Marie and
Joanna kissed me goodbye. We exchanged promises to play together again
someday but instinctively I knew we would never meet again. I had to go
back to America at summer's end and they would drift on to other new
friends. It was not the intent of swingers to entertain with the same
people. They preferred newness and anonymity. Bondage games were most
fun, I learned, with someone you didn't know. Someone whose pussy or
penis was exposed to you but whose face was hidden. And a "newby" or
"cherry" like me was most preferred. All this I was learning slowly as
I passed these lazy summer days in and around Paris. How many
40-something tourists from America, I wondered, pass through Paris and
never learn these things? We saw some of them that summer, passing in
the street, rushing from the Eiffel Tower to the Palais du Louvre,
valiantly photographing everything, yet learning nothing of the pulsing
heart of the city. They gained only a sense of it in the nightclubs, if
they dared to even enter, then flew home again to their comfortable
suburban Puritanism.
Helga met me inside with an exploring kiss of her tongue and a
pat on my bottom.
"Get out of those clothes," she hissed. "Master will be angry
if he sees you like that." I obeyed, stripping off the jacket, blouse,
and narrow stretch pants Marie had given me. We hung them up in a
bedroom closet and Helga reattached my collar about my neck. I was
ready now to be leashed by my master and taken wherever he wished. We
went out to the pool and awaited him.
Master came home in the early evening and came out to the pool
to greet us. Playfully we knelt at his feet and begged to pleasure
him. He laughed, reluctantly refused, then had the oriental girl who
was with him place a towel under us and we knelt down and placed our
cheeks on the towel. He inspected our bottoms and found them pleasingly
white. My heinie still had one or two fading stripes from yesterday but
they would vanish shortly, he said. He complimented us on keeping our
bosoms and bottoms out of the sun. Our legs were crisply brown,
thoughtfully tanned, as were our bellies, arms, and faces. Our hair was
glossy from the sun. We rose again to our knees and he lovingly cupped
each of our bosoms in turn. He held Helga's last.
"I am releasing you," he said, "and your charges, your lovely
doves. It is premature I know, but a friend is flying in from Russia
with girls who have never seen the West before. I must, ah, accommodate
them. It would be unfair to you for me to keep you any longer."
"I understand," Helga nodded. I felt sadness yet a special
thrill. It was wild to be a captive, but I wanted my freedom too.
Where would we go next, I wondered? Who would we meet? Did I even want
any more of this crazy French lifestyle? I didn't know. My head
whirled with all that had happened to me. All the strange events I'd
wandered into since Julie sat down beside me at the condo pool and
uttered that silly "ooch." I rubbed my bottom thoughtfully. Never had
I imagined what could be done to it in the name of love. Master brought
me out of my thoughts by lifting my chin and bending down and kissing me
on the lips.
"Goodbye," I lisped, and together we tongued the insides of
each other's mouths. Then he bade us to stand, said he had another
engagement, and hurried off with his faithful bikinied oriental. We
mulled about for a minute by the pool, lost, abandoned sheep. Then
Helga suddenly pushed Julie and I into the pool! We spent a final half
hour there, laughing and splashing, still wearing our heels in the
water.
30
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