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From: Andrew Roller <roller39@IDT.NET>
Subject: Chambers of Love part 9 of 18 (NND)
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_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
CHAMBERS OF LOVE
_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
Chapter Nine
By morning Julie was healed enough to walk normally. The
pointillist method, as the count no doubt intended, proved gentler than
it looked. We raced each other downstairs in a clattering of our high
heels. Strangely, we'd found shoes and clothes that fit us exactly in
the armoire. (Though some clothes were intentionally a size too small,
particularly the panties.)
The count was awaiting us in the dining hall, dressed in a polo
shirt and shorts. There was a noticeable swell in the front of his
shorts. Impulsively I squeezed it as I passed him. "I'm glad to see
that," I said, turning my head back as I walked over to my place at
table.
"I'm not," he shuddered.
"Sleep well?" I asked impishly, seating myself.
"Oh!" Julie announced, and found that sitting down, at least,
was still an uncomfortable experience.
"You know, I'm not hungry this morning," the count said, coming
over to us. "Why don't we just skip breakfast."
"Sit down, young man," I commanded. Ruefully he wandered back
over to his chair, sat down, and called for Burton.
Julie and I wore tight little cotton white T-shirts. I glanced
at her and we grasped them in front and pulled them off, holding them
just right so they passed tightly over our nipples and set them to
wiggling. I shook my hair out after I'd taken off my tee. I looked at
the count.
"Here, catch," I said, and we both tossed our T-shirts to him.
He caught mine.
We sat happily before him, bare-breasted. I looked down at my
freed breasts and shook them. "Did your nipples wiggle more when you
took off your T-shirt or did mine?" I asked Julie.
"Yours did," she replied politely.
"No, yours did," I insisted. I looked at the count. He seemed
about to pass out. "Give us back our shirts," I said. "We'll try
again, and this time you must be the judge."
"Huh?" he asked, as if in a daze.
"We're going to test the wiggling capacity of our nipples.
Give us our shirts." Dazedly he passed them across to me. I handed
Julie hers.
We put the little shirts back on. They had armholes for
sleeves, holes which we'd made extra big so they showed off lots of
tit. Stiffly my nipples showed through the thin fabric of the shirt.
We'd cut off the shirts at the midriffs so our belly buttons could be
seen. Earlier I'd told Burton to put two cushions on each of our
chairs, not saying why. Now, perched in my chair, my feet not touching
the floor, I prepared to flaunt my boobies again at the count.
"Ready?" I asked Julie.
"Ready."
"One, two, three, pull!" We popped the shirts off again,
lustily. I cheated by wiggling from side-to-side, setting my nipples
off into extra jiggles.
"Who won?" I asked brightly.
"God knows," the count replied. "I want to find out who has
the tightest cunt."
"All in good time, sir. All in good time."
Burton approached me warily. "Miss, I mean madam."
"Miss will do, I'm only 15," I said impishly.
"Would you like to order now?"
"Yes, please. But let Julie go first. She has a very sore
bottom and probably cannot sit for long."
"Yes, uh," Burton backed away, stumbled. "Ah, yes miss, right
so."
I didn't know how I was going to handle the count after
breakfast but I'd found I loved teasing him. I was turning into a
little dominatrix right before his eyes, before my eyes as well. From
the looks of him I was the most difficult domme he'd ever had, in my own
unique little way. Julie and I passed the breakfast merrily, chowing
down our food. The count just poked at his plate, and occasionally
shifted uncomfortably in his chair.
"They do make underpants too tight these days, don't they?" I
remarked mischievously.
"Yes," he replied, eyeing me. "Way too tight. And the shorts
too."
***
The minute breakfast ended the count rose from the table. "Now
I take command," he announced abruptly.
"Oh, sir, what would you have us do?" I asked coquettishly.
"Struggle, preferably," he said. "Accompany me to the parlor.
I have some guests waiting there." This shocked me. He'd regained the
upper hand. What could I do?
Meekly Julie and I got up from our places. Sexily we'd chosen
stone ground denim hot pants for our hips, and we'd abbreviated these
with scissors to within an inch of their life. Below these were only
our trusty (albeit new) heels, which elevated our bottoms and made them
more showy than they already were.
"To the parlor, girls," the count reminded us. We shuffled out
of the room, down the hall. "Pick it up," he commanded us. "You're not
going to a funeral!"
"I am for my bottom," I replied.
We reached the parlor and he let us inside. A hush fell over
the crowd. They were dressed casually, but expensively. Ladies put
hands over their cheeks, surprised but delighted, as they caught sight
of our naked boobies, so well-formed and firm. The party would be
starting early, with exceptional guests of honor.
The count always has known how to choose them, hasn't he?" one
lady whispered to another.
"Now, now," the other whispered back. "You're not bad
yourself."
"Ladies and gentlemen," the count announced, rising up on a
little platform formed by the wet bar. He looked at me. "And, uh,
girls..." He gestured politely. "I would like to introduce my new
companions, Kimmy, the younger one, and Julie, a fine young wife on tour
here in France."
I noticed he didn't say "vacation."
"Uh, will they be entertaining us?" a woman asked in French.
"Yes, they are going to take off their pants and mud-wrestle
for us," the count said. Julie and I looked at each other in shock.
A side door opened and we found ourselves hustled out directly
into the front yard. There were only trees and hills in the distance,
plus the road that ran by his lawn. I knew an occasional car did come
along it. Then my eyes spotted the arena where Julie and I were
expected to do our "entertaining." A large pool of mud, dug out
overnight, awaited us.
"Look!" I pointed, nudging Julie. "That's what those sounds
must have been that we heard last night!" In the middle of the night
we'd thought we'd heard someone digging a grave. But the sound seemed
far off, intermittant, and we'd drifted into sleep once more.
"Normally we would have this event in the back yard," the count
said. "But these young ladies have proven themselves such bold little
lasses that I decided to hold it out front this year!" A cheer went up
from the crowd.
"Strip, girls," the count commanded us. "Right down to your
panties." I looked at Julie. She at me. Hesitantly we fingered the
snaps on the front of our jeans. I caught Burton's eye. He was
standing, crisp as ever in his tuxedo, watering the pit of mud with a
hose.
I decided to be as graceful as possible. I unbuttoned the
front of my shorts and pulled down the zipper. I slid them over my
smooth thighs as a gasp went up from the crowd. I wore red, semi-sheer
chiffon panties, so small they allowed a few wisps of my pubic hair to
curl out from under the waistband in front. Julie proved similarly
attired. We'd chosen side-tie panties, with little silk bows tenuously
holding together the chiffon halves in front and back. My panties had
wedged themselves into my butt-crack in back and now I reached behind me
to pull out the fabric.
"They're fine as they are, Kimmy," the count admonished me.
I gulped. I made to take off my heels.
"No, no, right into the pit with you," he said. "You too,
Julie." I advanced to the pit. I looked down.
"It's not deep," the count assured me. I stepped down very
daintily, and sunk into the mud up to my ankles. It oozed between my
toes. Julie stepped in on the opposite side. I looked at her, she at
me. My long, golden hair shimmered in elegant curls in the morning
sun. Spun gold; so delicate, exquisite. Julie had spent an hour doing
it up for me this morning. Her hair was stunning also. Glittering
earrings, too formal for girls in tees and hot pants, dangled down on
either side of our faces.
The count cleared his throat. We looked up at him, pleadingly,
wearing only our undies, our hair and makeup perfect. How could he do
this to us?
"Are you ready girls?" the count asked.
"May we at least take our heels off?" I begged. "We might fall
down." The count looked away at the distant hills upon hearing my
ridiculous question. I noticed then that the floor of the pit was not
dirt but a special puncture-proof rubber mat, easy to fall on and easy
to walk on with heels. Once again the count had proved willing to go to
extraordinary lengths to accommodate us, however perversely.
"Ready girls?" he asked again.
"Okay sir," I said, reluctantly but firmly. Already I was
sizing Julie up. She was bigger than me, and heavier. How was I going
to avoid losing to her?
"Upon my whistle, then," Burton announced, and gave a lusty
blow on the count of three. A cheer went up from the crowd.
Julie and I approached each other hesitantly.
"Girls, there's a sound spanking for the loser," the count
called out. "I wouldn't want to lose if I were you, Julie. Kimmy, you
know why a girl is spanked, don't you? To prepare her for a little
impalement, hmmm?"
"Such encouragement!" a woman whispered.
"I've a mind to get in there myself!" another remarked, casting
an admiring glance at the count.
Well, I wasn't about to get fucked up the ass by the biggest
cock in France. I'd just have to knock Julie down right away and get
this silly business over with. Perhaps I could even save my hair.
Fair's fair in love and mud-pit wrestling.
I lunged suddenly at Julie and toppled her.
"Hey!" she cried, surprised, her eyes wide. She caught herself
as she fell, sullying only one half of her panties and one of her legs
up to the waist.
"I'm sorry," I said, still holding my hands out from pushing
her. "Just lie down and let's quit."
"You know my bottom can't take anymore!" she glared up at me.
Like a lioness she leapt up and attacked me.
"Julieee!" I cried, desperately trying to keep my balance.
"Don't-" I fell backward, splashed right onto my bottom in the mud.
Somehow the front triangle of my panties escaped getting dirty. But my
bared bottom and the backs of my thighs got coated with ugly, oozing
chunks of mud. Julie couldn't help laughing at me, and pointing.
Instead of going for the final kill, she just stood there, enjoying her
seeming victory. Without getting up I lunged out at her suddenly,
caught hold of her ankle.
"Yipes!" she cried, and her full, womanly body splashed down
right next to me, splattering us both.
"Now look what you've done!" I cried out. Splotches of mud
speckled my front, my face.
"Me?!" she retorted. We both lunged at each other then. Our
hands gripped each other by the upper arms and we grappled with one
another. I couldn't help noticing her (mostly) white boobies jiggling
shamelessly before me. Mine put on an equally heedless display.
We splashed down into the mud. Julie grabbed my head and
dunked me, getting as much of my hair as possible into the icky stuff.
But I rose, grabbed at the front of her panties, and pulled them open
and began bailing handfuls of mud into them. She grabbed me by the
breasts, whirled me about, and yanked down the back of my panties,
leaving them clutching at the underswell of my heinie. She squished mud
into my butt crack, even mushing it down with her fingertips to force
more in.
"Aack!" I cried, leaping up. Mud clung to me everywhere.
Still some skin showed through, though, I noted gratefully. Julie would
certainly pay for this.
"Using underhanded tactics, eh?" I asked her as she knelt
before me, still clutching handfuls of mud. She raised her fists and
threw mud at me. Some hit me squarely in the face, bringing howls of
laughter from the crowd.
I jumped down on top of Julie. With strength I didn't even
know I had I pushed her face down, pressing her nose into the mud. She
pulled up just in time, reached up, smeared mud all over my face. I
gazed wildly about for Burton and his hose without seeing him. I wiped
one of my hands off on my still-white upper breast and then cleaned my
face with it as best I could. Julie took advantage of the lull to reach
up from where she knelt and yank down my panties.
I gasped. The crowd gasped. My blonde muff shown amidst what was
practically the last patch of white space on my skin. Julie reached up
to smear mud all over my lovely blonde bush but I caught her wrist and
twisted it behind her.
"Owwch!" Julie whined as, stumbling, my panties round my knees,
I completed the maneuver. I forced Julie face first right into the
mud. I smeared the back of her head with my free hand, getting it all
over her hair. She bucked wildly with her legs. I was wary of the
heels. Suddenly in her thrashing I lost my balance. I teetered for a
moment on my stiletto pumps, then went crashing down. Mud flew
everywhere.
Glistening with mud I rose up, like some Swamp Thing, and we
engaged each other anew. We writhed across the pool, rolling now,
blatantly displaying our most intimate parts, which were soon fully
bronzed with the gook. My hips fell between Julie's open legs and I
began humping her. Maybe, I reasoned, I could distract her through her
pussy. I absolutely must not lose!
Unfortunately, it was she who had been thoroughly fucked last
night, and I began quickly to come on to orgasm. Suddenly I wanted her,
needed her, woman or no.
Julie, the more gentle of us, saw this as a way to negate the
conflict. There would be no winner, no loser. The count would be
defeated by the wilyness of the female spirit. The ladies spotted this
right away and quietly applauded us. The men, looking on in wonderment,
applauded also, but for an entirely different reason. The count
remained in the dark, not divining yet our true purpose. Nor did
Burton.
Softly Julie licked the mud from my lips. We kissed. She
briefly let go of me in our amorous embrace and pulled her panties down
to her knees, as far as she could reach. This closed her legs together
beneath me so I reached down and helped her, finally managing to loose
one of the mud-clogged drawstrings. I helped her out of her undies
completely, yanking at them till we got them off, still however lying
atop her all the while. She let her legs fall open, wide, as if to give
birth. For the moment, my panties did not matter, and they clung
precariously to my knees as I ground my pussy upon hers.
Julie sighed and reached down with both hands and grasped the
swell of my bottom. She urged me to buckle my back inward, press my
pussy harder to hers. She reached down over my bottom and began
fingering my anus. I flinched, gasped, did not want her there! Then
she slipped a hand around to my front and got right at my clitoris. I
moaned, responded by finding her own spot with my hand and rubbed her
tiny bulb. Like a dove she cooed, sighed.
"So lovely," a woman remarked.
"Marvelously spontaneous," another said admiringly.
"Damn best show of tits and clits I've ever seen, eh Pierre?" a
man asked.
We groped in the mud, alternately stimulating each other's
nipples, each other's clits. Julie kissed my budded nipples. I gorged
upon hers. "Give me milk to wash the mud off," I pleaded of her
bosoms. Julie laughed, caressed me. "I will always be your first
baby," I told her.
"I know, I know," she replied tenderly. Half the men were by
now rubbing themselves in concert with us. The count caught onto our
plot then.
"Now ladies, ladies, we must have a winner here!" Burton said,
advancing to the edge of the pool. "Ladies, continue fighting please,"
Burton pleaded. We looked up at him. The crowd murmured. Suddenly we
leapt to our knees and grabbed him by his fine new tuxedo. Our twin
mud-covered bottoms gleamed brightly as we knelt, bathed in the morning
sun.
"C'mon in, Burton, the mud's just fine!" we cried gaily. He
tottered forward, resisted, then lost his balance.
SPLOOSH! Burton fell in amongst us. There was such a splash
that mud spattered the crowd.
We laughingly attacked poor Burton like a pair of bacchanals.
Twin tigresses, we showed no mercy. We ripped open his tux and yanked
down his trousers. I got my hands on his dick and to his utter
amazement he found himself hard, absolutely hard, within seconds.
"Fuck me Burton, fuck me if you dare," I called, and rubbed his
hapless dick. He shuddered. A moment later he spurted a creamy
fountain up between my grasping hands. The crowd whooped and applauded.
"I say, I say!" Burton cried, not knowing whether to be happy
or humiliated.
"Thatta boy Burton," Julie cried in a rare show of crudity. I
wiped him clean with mud, bronzing his cock just as he had caused us to
be bronzed.
"Don't stick mud in the tip!" Burton yelped. I apologized and
sucked his cockhead for him, then re-dunked it in the mud and let it go.
Burton struggled up out of the pool and Julie and I scrambled
out behind him. "Fetch us the hose, Burton!" we called merrily.
Stumbling, he brought it to us and began boldly spraying us. Dancing,
stretching our arms to the sky, we displayed ourselves to the spritzing
water. I stepped out of my ruined panties. An orgasm still broiled
within me. Julie felt lusty also. We romped on the grass, pushing each
other down, kissing, getting up again. The crowd stood amazed.
Finally I fetched the hose from Burton and began chasing Julie
around the yard with it. She ran, bottom waggling, her big boobs
flapping. I closed in and aimed the spray right up her ass. Julie
screamed as I gave her an instant enema, careful not to overdo it. Shit
flooded out her bottomhole and coated the backs of her thighs. I
decided to clean myself with the hose then, leaving her a mess.
Julie spun about and ran after me faster than I'd ever seen her
before. Finally she caught hold of the hose and began reeling me in. I
sprayed her in the face but it was no use. She was winning this new
tug-of-war, being the stronger between us. I stumbled into her and she
pressed the hose right against my clit. I gasped, I reeled under the
stimulation of the spray. I clasped my thighs with my hands and felt
myself teeter on the brink of orgasm.
"Silly girl," Julie said, and pulled away the hose.
Desperately I fell face first onto the lawn and began squirming about
like some octopus. My hands shot to my pussy and I began rubbing it
furiously, a woman gone mad. Laughingly Julie sprayed my backside. I
rolled over, thrust my hips up at her. She sprayed me generally and
then concentrated on my twat. Alternately I let in the water and then
set about masturbating myself again with my hands. The crowd drew
around us. They began undressing. I heaved with my first orgasm,
bucking my hips up. I strained my pussy into the air, putting all my
weight on my shoulders and heels. An arc of lovely wanton female flesh
upon the grass.
A man knocked Julie to her knees and brusquely prised apart her
bottom cheeks. His pants were already down, coiled with his underpants
about his thick calves. "Kimmee, help me!" Julie cried, like some
distant voice beyond my orgasm. Quickly the man entered her. Julie's
marital training paid off then, as did my enema. The man thrust quickly
but she was able to open herself, just in time. He began rodding her,
but now it was her turn to go on the attack. Using the control she'd
learned from Dan, she clenched down fiercely, harder than even she
thought possible. The man yelped. His cock was suddenly within a
living vise. It felt like it would literally have the life squeezed
right out of it. He knew then his breach of manners. He apologized for
taking Julie so quickly, begged her for mercy. Julie looked back at
him, saw he was just an eager (if large) boy, no older than herself.
She smiled, let her bottom ease. He gasped, relieved, still in awe at
the tightness that remained. He went more slowly then, and Julie
slipped over into bliss.
My pussy arcing in the air was hardly a treat any man could
miss. At first they were afraid to touch me. Afraid of their wives,
afraid of the count. But a juicy twat so fully (if innocently) offered
is not long resisted by any man, or even quite a few women. Before I
knew it my orgasming pussy was set upon by a threesome of men. They
spread my legs wide, almost to the breaking point. A woman and a man
set upon my tits. The woman lay on the grass and thrust a hand down her
own panties. A cock offered itself to my mouth and, wedging my teeth
apart, made its entry. Gagging, I finally sought to take it, if only in
order to better regulate its conduct so I could still breathe.
A rapturous series of orgasms coursed through me. All around
soft sighs and desperate grunts filled the air. I saw Julie on her
knees, through an orgasmic haze, rocking back and forth on the stiff rod
of her paramour, who turned out to be a virgin. He came powerfully once
in her, and was instantly ready again. Julie collapsed to her face for
the second round, cooing, keeping her bottom high. He thrust up her
again as vigorously as he had at first, but she was fully open to him
now, and once lodged inside she complimented his thrusts with squeezings
of her trained rectum.
A farmer's haywagon trundled past on the road below, the
clip-clop of the horses' hooves heard intermittently amidst the louder
sounds of copulation. I wondered idly what he thought of the spectacle
of our bacchanal. In any event he did not stop or interfere.
The lowing of cattle drifted across from the distant fields. Did
shepherd boys pause in their chores to masturbate over what they saw?
There were too many hands groping at me, demanding a turn, for me to
look up and survey the scene in more than brief glimpses. The smells of
male and female fertility, randily released, wafted over me with each
gentle breeze, mingling with my own contributions and those of my
suitors. The morning sun illuminated all, hid nothing. Every crevice,
portal, orifice, brightly lit. Last I remember a man was pressing the
slit on his stiff cockhead against my upstanding nipple, fucking his own
penis with my teat. This out of desperation, for my cunt and ass and
mouth were already jammed full of cock. "No Vacancy" here. I passed
out from pleasure then. Later I was carried, oozing and dripping, into
the house, by men known only to me by their genitals. Thoughtfully some
women bathed me, put me to bed. The same was done for Julie. We'd
proven to be exemplary guests of honor, they whispered. Julie and I
fell into a sound sleep, full of cum, our wombs impregnated with their
husbands' seed.
30
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