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From: Andrew Roller <roller39@IDT.NET>
Subject: Chambers of Love part 7 of 18 (NND)
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_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
CHAMBERS OF LOVE
_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
Chapter Seven
Costumed still in our boarding school attire, we made our way
through the streets of Paris to a little cafe. The truck hadn't started
again, and we'd had to hire a taxi back to the hotel where we'd stayed
before. It was too expensive now, and we knew it was unwise to haunt
our old abode anyway. So we found a creditable brownstone nearby and
plunked down the last of our stolen currency for one night's stay. It
was mid-morning, the next day.
"We look, uh, fashionable," Julie whispered in a low voice to
me.
"Provocative, you might say."
"Thank God we're not someplace conservative." Julie clutched
at her cup of coffee. I glanced about us as we sat sipping at the cafe
table. The men seemed pleased to see us, gazing politely out of the
corners of their eyes. The women resented the competition. Fortunately
both of us (especially in my case) could still pass as schoolgirls. In
our little outfits real women would have looked like whores.
Nonetheless, at a nearby table one woman whispered audibly:
"Business must have been slow last night."
"Kids today!" her companion replied. "In my day we weren't
allowed to run about looking like trollops."
"And the younger ones are doing it too, um hum, younger even
than that."
"What the children today need is discipline!"
"You know, we're foreigners here," Julie said, "Despite our
uncanny mingling with English-speaking people. There's no way we can
get real jobs or anything."
"I know," I said. "I'm afraid there's only one way we can get
the money to go home. Let's hope we meet someone pleasant."
"And soon. We spent our last franc on this coffee."
"Don't spill it," I said.
We gazed about. Fortunately it was the lunchtime business
crowd we were surveying. These were men with money, with uptight wives
at home who didn't give them what they needed.
"I think I found one," I said at last. I spotted a man out of
the corner of my eye who kept looking, seemed really repressed, yet a
gentleman. Julie followed my gaze.
The man seemed surprised that we were returning his glances.
We whispered to one another, assessing our odds, his wallet. No doubt
he assumed we were admiring his looks. He straightened his tie, his
mustache.
"Don't laugh," Julie said. "If we giggle he'll think we're
mocking his looks."
"He's not Adonis, that's for sure," I said.
"Do you want to go home?" Julie asked.
"Yeah," I said. "Let's go for it."
***
Soon we were stripped and ready for action. Our clothes lay
neatly folded in the bathroom. We were nude except for our high heels
(having no stockings or bras in any event).
"Oooh!" Julie clasped her hands to her chest, ecstatic. "Ten
thousand francs! This bird must really like us! Enough to go home and
everything."
"Too bad we couldn't get it in advance," I muttered.
"Now Kimmy, be nice to him. You're such a brat."
"I got your bottom out of that school, didn't I?" I opened the
bathroom door to see how our suitor measured up.
"Hi, are you ready?" Julie called, her eyes not yet able to see
into the bedroom. She pushed forward, but I was stopped dead still.
Julie finally popped her head out over my shoulder. She gasped.
The man stood with a gun pointing at us. He was naked,
muscular, stroking a large cock. Beyond him stood Mistress Persephone,
gowned in black. She switched her riding crop against her leg.
"You girls have missed quite a few of your lessons," mistress
snarled, smiling wickedly. Her eyes gleamed like a cat's, eyeing its
prey. "You'll have to do quite a lot of makeup work." I made to shut
the bathroom door but my hand wouldn't move. Julie screamed, once, then
seemed to lose her voice. "Thank you, Johnson, another job well done,"
mistress said. "You do play the repressed middle class husband quite
convincingly."
Johnson motioned us out of the bathroom with his gun. It was a
little Uzi, I noticed. Nothing to fool around with. "Any time you need
someone found, you just call me." He spoke with an English accent. "My
men and I, we can find anyone, anytime. These girls were easy."
"Yes, but I'll still give you full payment for them. Don't
tell Helga, if you happen to see her. She would insist I go soft on
them."
"Yes, ma'am."
Jim and Steve sauntered in. They grinned like jackals,
leering.
"Boys, see these young ladies to our car," mistress ordered.
We were forced to dress. Jim and Steve watched eagerly as we
shimmied back into our too tight jeans and jackets. Johnson lazily
stroked himself off. Then, struggling, we were trussed up like turkeys
and taken out the back in plastic bags. We were both tossed into a
trunk. We jostled against one another in the darkness as the car sped
off. There were slits in the bags for ventilation, holes in the trunk
lid, but it was quite hot in those bags nonetheless and we perspired
profusely. By the time we reached our destination our little uniforms
were soaked thru.
We were carried down a flight of stairs, through a heavy door
which slammed shut behind us and was bolted. The bags were ripped open
and we were pulled out. Puppies from the water. Wet, trembling, we
looked about. Julie began immediately to cry. Her bedroom antics back
home with her husband had just been rendered into a nightmare. We were
in a real dungeon now, not some chamber concocted by bored
suburbanites. I trembled as I looked about. This was the real thing.
"Yes, girls," mistress announced, striding down the stairs
behind us. Jim and Steve, who had so easily carried us in like sacks of
potatoes, made way for her slender form. She was a queen, and this was
her realm. "Familiar, Julie? Why do you cry? Ah, little Kimmy, so
brave, so bold! You wanted to taste life's pleasures, smell the roses.
This is where naughty little girls belong, don't you think? 'The
children today, what they need is discipline!'" She broke into a
cackled laugh.
Mistress strode before us like some sexual Darth Vader as we
stood there shaking, weeping. Tears stained my face. "You're not
wearing your uniforms properly," mistress said, reaching out and
unbuttoning our blouses. "My, your things are wet. You must get out of
them at once!"
With Jim and Steve standing there we had little choice but to
obey. Stripping off my jeans, I hoped I'd still have a bottom left if I
ever got hold of a pair of pants again.
"My, my, no panties?" mistress asked. "You girls need more
instruction than I thought!"
"Look," I said, tossing aside my jeans in disgust. "Let's get
real here. We haven't done anything to you."
"Oh my, indeed, such insolence," mistress said, amused. "You
disrupted my program, leaving like that. I missed supervising many of
the girl's studies, so preoccupied was I with finding you. I've been
paid to train you and I'm going to do just that, my dear. We don't
offer refunds at this school."
"Let me go!" I cried as Jim seized me from behind. My young,
slim figure must have looked almost comical. My boobies wiggled
fiercely, alluringly.
"See that they are washed down," mistress commanded, turning on
her heels.
"Yes, ma'am," Jim and Steve smiled.
"Then we'll begin their lessons. Their behinds are...quite
behind."
***
We stood shackled side by side, waiting, wet. Our postures
were enforced stoops; heels on the floor, bottoms high, wrists chained
low on the wall in front of us. I arched my back, straining against my
bonds, to no avail. Waistbelts hung from the ceiling insured that we
couldn't sit or lie down. And the fetters kept us from standing.
"We're really in for it now," Julie shivered. Occasional sobs
still rent her. I sniffled, trying not to cry. "I wish I'd never let
Dan experiment with bondage," Julie lamented. "But then, he'd gotten
into it before I married him, before I'd even met him."
"I can't believe this is happening," I said with firm
contrition in my voice. "I'm just a girl fresh out of Junior High,
practically. In some places Junior High lasts through the ninth
grade... They need stricter laws over here to protect children."
"Yes," Julie agreed. “They should raise the age of consent to
21!”
Heels clicked in the distance, came down the stone steps behind
us.
"My, my, how nicely you girls pose for me." Mistress strode up
to us. She cupped the undersides of our bottoms. "I see you've taken
good care of your heinies." She squeezed the cheeks, seemed to assess,
weigh them. "So flawless and white. I wonder what they'll look like
tonight, hmmm?"
I sobbed aloud. "Please mistress. Can't you let us go? We
just want to go home."
"All little girls just want to go home. I thought you were
women now."
"Not, not really," I sniffled.
"Would your government approve of 15-year-old young ladies
prostituting themselves, hmm?" She fondled my bottom lasciviously.
"No, and it wouldn't approve of you either," I snuffled.
"Tch, tch, you would only go home and lead other young ladies
astray, I think. I will assist you in being good. You will become a
shining example of rectitude. And you'll have a bottom that will remind
you every day."
"No, no," I pleaded, really crying now. Julie was crying with
the grace of a woman.
Suddenly there were footfalls on the stairs. Mistress whirled
about, confronted Jim, Steve. "I said I was not to be disturbed!" She
screamed.
"Uh--the count to see you ma'am," Jim stammered, hunched
contritely. "You said--"
"The one person I won't kill you for allowing to interrupt me,"
mistress glared, and stomped past him. Jim lingered behind hopefully,
Steve beside him. "Let's go, boys! No fucking the merchandise!"
mistress yelled.
"Yes, ma'am." They scuttled up the stairs after her, leaving
Julie and I alone with our thoughts in the dungeon.
We sniffled quietly, waiting, dreading their return. A bit
later the count himself drifted down the stairs, joined by our
mistress. Jim and Steve stumbled after, foolish in their attempt to
display proper deference.
"Certainly they have fine bottoms," the count remarked of us.
He asked that we be presented standing. Jim and Steve unchained us and
turned us about. He bade them be gentle. They reshackled us to the
wall, facing him.
"Greetings, girls." The count smiled. His eyes were soft.
"You seem to have gotten yourselves into a bit of a spot." He spoke his
English with a decidedly French accent. "Let me tell you of the
arrangement I would like to make. I hope you will excuse my frankness.
I want a pair of pretty girls to torture. You certainly fit the bill.
I was told you were beautiful, young goddesses, and they were right.
"It will hurt, believe me, the discipline I impose. But I will
not harm you, as you would be here. I will pay your mistress the
appropriate sum. It is as great as your beauty, I can assure you. For
my investment I will keep you for a month. Then I will pay your way
home. Julie, we will have to see if you are pregnant, or have you
tested yourself already?"
"She's pregnant," I piped up, amidst my sniffles. Julie nodded
mutely.
"Coming from you, that means she's not," the count quipped at
me. "But I'll have her urine tested one or two more times, just to be
sure." He smiled at me. "You had better hope she's not, or you'll have
to do twice the work."
I bowed my head. What could I do? I wanted to glare at him,
but I could see the outcome already. We certainly couldn't stay here.
Mistress Persephone was a nut case. Should we go with this
self-admitted sadist, we at least had a chance of escaping. It was
clear to me, at least, that we would never get out of this dungeon in
one piece, maybe not even alive.
"Well, girls, do you agree to the count's offer? Do you wish
to disappoint me?" mistress asked. Julie broke into sobs again, a young
wife, a young mare. I wanted badly to just start bawling. With tear
filled eyes I raised my head, looked shiveringly at mistress, then at
the count.
"We don't, don't have any choice, I guess," I wept. The count
patted my cheek.
"Good girl, good girl. You are smart as well as beautiful," he
murmured.
30
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