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From: Andrew Roller <roller39@IDT.NET>
Subject: Love Child part 5 of 15 (NND)
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_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
LOVE CHILD
_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
Chapter Five
Waiflike, with eyes big as saucers, I was ready to begin my
first day of school. Rebecca herself had dressed me in the school's
regulation uniform. I wore a broad-brimmed yellow bonnet with a black
bow. Beneath it my hair was loose, but with some of it gathered into a
casual ponytail which was tied up with a blue ribbon. I wore a black
frock coat. It was very short, just barely covering my fanny. I did
not have any skirt on beneath, only white schoolgirl undies which were
so small that my ass cheeks hung out of them almost completely. In
effect, the underpants were thong panties, though on an 8-year-old they
would not have been. My hips were still fairly slender, but there was
no way I could fit properly into panties made for a pre-teen!
Long white schoolgirl stockings, garterless, stretched up over
my knees and hugged my thighs. About halfway up they stopped, leaving
my upper thighs bare, my skin glowing softly, alluringly, in the morning
sunlight. Fretfully I tugged at my frock. I'd been fruitlessly trying
to cover my bare thighs all morning. Yet they remained as shamelessly
exposed as ever, smooth and neatly tanned, with the white undercurves of
my bottom showing every time a breeze caught my dress. Well not my
dress but my frock, as I should call it, though the coat was made of
such soft, snug material that it could as easily have been a dress as a
coat.
Beside me, fingering the abbreviated hem of her own uniform,
stood my schoolmate. Her name was Kyla. I had the feeling I'd get to
know her much better. So far I'd caught unwilling glimpses of her ass,
and she of mine, to our mutual embarrassment. Not that she didn't have
a beautiful bottom. She was a bit taller than me, 17, and very nicely
filled out. She had a big bosom and a big bottom. She was newly
engaged to an older man, who'd decided to enroll her in the school as a
pre-honeymoon treat. The gift was mainly to himself, I suspected. He
said she needed to be made more mature before she could become his
wife. But she seemed perfectly well-mannered to me, even docile.
A car slowed behind us. Its passengers gawked, whistled. Our
guardian, spotlessly attired in military dress, waved his automatic
rifle at the car. Reluctantly it took off.
"Knock again!" I whispered to Kyle. She picked up the door
knocker and rapped three more times. We were, for the moment at least,
stuck outside a modest looking home on the outskirts of Buenos Aires.
Our chaperone, a large silent soldier in the Argentine army, was our
only companion. He had met me at Richard and Rebecca's and escorted me
to the airport, where I'd met Kyle. The three of us had flown back to
the city together, in a private jet. The pilot had not let us sit in
the cockpit. "Too tempting," he'd replied when Kyle and I asked him.
So we'd sat with the soldier in the passenger compartment, who was as
silent a Sam as I'd ever met. Which, incidentally, was the name I'd
given him, being unable to get him to tell us what his real one was.
"Doesn't matter," had been his only answer.
Underneath my frustratingly short frock I wore only my
underpants and a bustiette. It had a lace-up front. I guess our
mistress had miscalculated the size of my boobies. The bustiette had
proved hopeless at containing my nipples, or any of my cleavage above
them. My titties wiggled freely against the inside of my frock, the
regulation bustiette doing nothing more than lifting my breasts and
making them more prominent than they already were. My coat had no
buttons above the middle, leaving my bulging bosoms precariously
contained. Already once or twice a sudden movement on my part had
allowed one of my breasts to pop into view, my nipple as nicely
displayed as if I were at a nudist camp. Sam had been impressed,
sucking in his breath but saying nothing. I'd tucked my breast back
inside my frock. And I'd tried, once more, to stick my nipple down
inside the bra cup of my bustiette, to no avail. Kyle was just as
unlucky. The upper curves of her breasts bulged from her frock. All
morning, sitting across from her on the plane, I'd had a magnificent
view of her cleavage. The creamy mounds promised to nourish well any
who suckled them.
The door to the house finally opened. An elderly servant let
us in. He made to take our coats, but we refused. We were led to the
back of the house, into a modest ballroom, where a group of a dozen or
so men and women, finely clothed, were sharing cocktails and
conversation. A charming woman came forward to meet us. She was
perhaps 30 or 40, with impeccable hair and makeup, wearing a tight cire
gown. Her curves were beyond reproach. Underneath her gown I sensed
the movement of a spirited animal.
Rebecca had taken a photo of my bottom and color-faxed it to
our new mistress. The woman, eyeing my figure, said she thought I must
be Barbi. As I stared past her prominent bosom into her face, I
realized she was recognizing me as the narrower-hipped of the two. No
photo of my face had been sent. Nor had a photo been sent of my bust,
or any other part of me. Just my bottom, as if that were all that
really mattered. An certificate of acceptance had been faxed back
within minutes.
"And you must be Kyle," the woman purred, greeting my new
schoolmate.
"Yes, ma'am," Kyle replied.
"I'm Elena, but in class you'll want to call me mistress," the
woman replied softly. "We'll get started with our first lesson after
lunch. Come and meet some of my friends first." Gaily she led us over
to a man and his wife, who smiled reassuringly. Our little uniforms
hugged us alluringly. We introduced ourselves. The man and his wife
seemed quite pleased to meet us. We chatted.
Slowly we mingled within the group, Kyle and I staying together
always. Our extremely decollete uniforms kept us feeling shy and
self-conscious. Men as well as women showed no hesitation in casting
admiring glances down between our titties. Not a few eyes pasted
themselves on our bottoms as well. Now and then an unintended flip of
the skirt would give them a peek at our pumpkins. They seemed to like
what they saw.
Kyle and I were allowed to freshen up, and then lunch
followed. The table conversation was quite salacious. It obviously had
an effect on Kyle, for I saw her slip a hand inside her coat and diddle
with the bow that held her bustiette closed. When her hand withdrew, I
guessed she had untied it.
"Are you not heated also?" a man sitting beside me asked,
quietly. He'd seen me watching Kyle, knew what I knew. Compliantly I
put my hand inside my own coat and separated the drawstrings of my
bustiette. My coat bulged forth more boldly when the constricting
bustiette was loosed. The man smiled, told me I was a good girl, but
asked no more of me. I marvelled at his restraint, for a glance at his
lap showed that he was terribly aroused. I wondered how big his cock
must be to make such a large bulge in his pants. Lunch ended finally.
The females had filled their tummies but the younger men had filled both
their tummies and their trousers.
Returning to the ballroom, Kyle and I were separated from the
group by Elena, who said she must begin our schooling. She took the two
of us into another room. Unbeknownst to me at the time mirrors on the
far wall served to allow the guests one-way viewing of our lessons.
Elena made us stand straight, side by side. Suddenly, her demeanor was
imperious.
"Good afternoon, girls, I'm delighted you've decided to enroll
in my academy for wayward girls. Kyle, sent by your fiancee, and Barbi,
by your lover. How thoughtful of them." She moved like a cat, sleek,
svelte, as if about to pounce on one of us. "You'll find this school
much tougher than any you've attended before. "You're both well-bred
girls, used to being spoiled and pampered. Here you will not be. My
rules are many and they are rigorously enforced. Any disobedience,
however slight, will be met with maximum punishment. When you graduate
you will be fine young ladies, sure of your place in the world,
confident about your sexuality and properly submissive to men. Unless,
of course, they require that you not be submissive, in which case you
will be a sexual tiger. Do I make myself clear?" We both nodded
mutely. She had, sometime during lunch, put her hair up in a loose
bun. She wore glasses. She carried a clipboard and, placed across it,
a riding crop. "Come, be seated, we must have Latin first," she
ordered.
Twin PCs waited to give us computerized instruction. I pulled
out my chair to sit down. It needed to be turned around, as it was
facing the wrong way. But mistress made me sit right down on it, with
the back of the chair underneath my breasts. This left my hiney
sticking out rather awkwardly. My dress had slipped up in back. Buns
exposed, I trembled. My legs were widely spaced by the reversed chair
back. My thighs, totally uncovered, nicely tanned, merged into the lily
white spheres of my bottom. Mistress patted my bottom and hiked my
dress up further.
"You have a pretty bottom. Do not be afraid to show it." She
did the same to Kyle. I noticed then that the seat was made of straw.
It pricked my bottom.
"Do you have a cushion, ma'am?" Kyle asked, her own posterior
making its uncomfortable acquaintance with the straw. Mistress swished
her crop through the air and said we must learn not to ask unnecessary
questions. Kyle gulped and wordlessly accommodated herself as best she
could to her seat.
About 15 minutes later we were done with Latin. We rose from
our seats at mistress' beckoning, the imprint of the woven straw still
on our bottoms. We were forbidden to pull down our dresses, which rode
our hips, leaving us bare beneath, save for our inadequate panties.
Mistress ushered us back into the ballroom. There, blushing fiercely,
we were made to report to each couple in turn what we'd learned. The
purpose of our short skirts became readily apparent.
"No, that is not correct," Mistress said, as I attempted to
tell the first couple what I'd learned. A swift cut of the crop sent me
leaping into the air. I rubbed my bottom cheeks and tried to remember
my lesson correctly. Kyle meantime, was stumbling with her first
couple. "Yeahoo!" she yelled lustily, as mistress' crop corrected her
big bottom.
Hineys smarting, we each went to our next couple, reporting
separately to each one. Soon I had the spiel down right. I managed to
get through the rest of the couples without any more damage.
It was with trembling fannys that we returned to the
schoolroom. Fearfully we sat down at the computers for our next
lesson. This time, the subject was greek. Mistress checked the state
of our bottoms as we answered the computer's questions. She wrote on
her clipboard. Another 15 minutes passed, too quickly.
We returned to the partiers. To my shock I saw that several of
the women had been made topless. A few couples were kissing, and did
not even look up to notice our return. The first husband and wife (I
call them that for lack of a better term, I knew not if they were
married), seemed quite aroused. As I told them what I'd learnt about
Greek I noticed that the man had a large protuberance in the front of
his pants. At the same time I noticed that all the toasts we'd been
asked to drink at lunch (with Cranberry juice) were making their
presence felt in my bladder. Kyle had attempted to whisper to me as
we'd left Greek class.
"Ma'am?" I heard Kyle ask. "May I be excused?"
"Why, whatever for?" Mistress replied. Awkwardly Kyle tried to
say what she needed to, without being explicit. Mistress seemed not to
understand. At last Kyle blurted,
"Please ma'am, may I go to the bathroom?"
"Do you have to pee?" Mistress asked. Kyle repeated her
question.
"I must know what you intend," Mistress replied. "Tell me, do you have
to pee?"
"I-I," Kyle paused. Finally she said it: "Ma'am, may I please
go pee?"
"Tsk! Big girls do not have to go to the potty so soon after
lunch," Mistress replied. "Certainly not just to pee. You must learn
to hold it. Men cannot stand travelling with a girl who is constantly
asking them to pull off to pee."
We were wiggling exceedingly by the time we got through our
lessons. Each of us had gotten three additional cuts, sending us
howling. With puffed faces and clenching fannies we returned to the
schoolroom, sitting our huddling bottom cheeks ever so gently back down
on the straw chairs.
Geography was next. It was tough to concentrate with my
bladder feeling like it could burst any minute. My bottom smarted. I
wanted to squirm in my seat but the nasty straw kept my wiggling to a
minimum.
"Ma'am, if I can't go soon I will pee in my panties!" Kyle
abruptly said halfway into our lesson. Mistress replied with a swift
crack of the crop on her bottom. "Ooooo!" Kyle cried, eminently
frustrated, with a new welt on her bottom to add to her woes. She tried
tapping in an answer on her keyboard to a question the computer was
repeating. Suddenly, she stopped. She reached up and yanked open the
front of her coat. Her lovely bosoms spilled out, nipples sprouting
erectly. I glanced over at her juddering boobs and watched, astonished,
as she peed forthrightly into her panties. She merely sat there, legs
boldly spread, hands still at her coat, and released her pee into her
undies. It escaped down her thighs and puddled on the floor.
"Why you dirty girl!" Mistress exclaimed, as shocked as I was.
Just about every rule in the playbook had been summarily violated by our
companion. Ruefully Kyle looked up from her mess.
"I-I'm sorry ma'am. I'll clean it up," Kyle apologized.
"You'll finish your lesson, that's what you'll do," Mistress
said, and seemed to forget to give her even one crack for her bad
behavior. She turned to me. "Pull open your jacket and pee, young
lady." I couldn't believe my ears. Mistress raised her crop but before
she could strike I hastily yanked open my top, releasing my breasts.
Free at last, they sprang out almost lustily, my nipples hard beyond
belief.
"I- I can't go," I said after a moment, gazing up at mistress.
"You'll go when I tell you to!" Mistress shouted, suddenly
giving me the cut that should have gone to Kyle. I leapt in my chair
but still couldn't pee. So I sat there, waiting, with mistress hovering
over me.
"Wet your panties," Mistress intoned after a minute.
"I-I-m trying, truly trying, ma'am," I pleaded. Another cut.
I jumped again. Tears welled in my eyes. Kyle plunked away at her
computer, seemingly oblivious to the predicament she'd put me in.
Thanks, Kyle. A friend in need is no friend in deed when she wets her
panties.
Mistress brought me a bottle of Perrier water, the large size,
and made me gulp down the whole thing. She insisted on holding the
bottle. Some spilled on my breasts. She said I'd be punished later for
that.
Still I could not relieve myself, at least not with my panties
on. It was rather like when I'd been in Kimber's swimming pool. I'd
been mad at her once, and thought I'd get revenge on her by peeing in
her pool. But I couldn't go. You'd think being wet, with water lapping
at your shoulders, you could just let your pee out into your bikini.
But I couldn't. And now I couldn't, either.
Elena yanked me up by my hair and ordered Kyle to follow. I
was led stumbling into the ballroom, shivering with my need to pee, Kyle
traipsing behind.
I gasped when I saw the condition of the ballroom. It had
indeed taken on the true likeness of its name. People were balling
everywhere. They were on sofas, the coffee table, one girl even hanging
from the room's chandelier as a couple lustily ate her out in front and
back, while a third player stood waiting with a large, buzzing vibrator
that seemed intended for the girl's ass.
"Tch, tch, you must get out of these wet panties," I heard a
woman say to Kyle as she inadvertently found herself between two
semi-nude couples. An equally bold reception waited for me. A young
man, about 25, was fucking a woman who was bent over in front of him,
her mouth fixed on the cock of a second man. The first man withdrew
himself from the woman's pussy, leaving her to her remaining paramour.
Otherwise still dressed, the man turned to me. The couple
beside him continued to make love to each other. Cock glistening,
coated sweetly with pussy juice, pulsing mightily, he smiled. He was
utterly composed. I marvelled at his self-control.
"How have you done in your studies today?" the man asked me.
Trembling uncontrollably, my thighs clenched together, I answered, "I
remembered sum things, but I forgot sum things too."
"The things you forgot. Are they not important?" the man
asked, seemingly oblivious to his cock, which shivered wetly before me,
seemingly on the brink of cumming.
"Y-Yesss," I replied, teeth chattering.
"Then you should be encouraged to remember better," the man
said. My coat was open, my breasts forthrightly displayed, droplets of
water still twinkling on them. He put a hand to my belly. It felt
nice, warm, reassuring. Would he make my belly swell? He turned me
sideways, lifted the back of my coat a little higher. My bottom showed,
boldly, rashly, the cheeks imprinted with the pattern of the straw seat,
a few whip marks blazing across it. "Your ass...should it not be
corrected from time to time? Thoroughly corrected? So that you might
remember better?"
"I-I suppose so," I said in a jittery voice. Aroused, woefully
bursting to pee, I was beyond any coherent, intelligent response. He
could have offered to brand my bottom at that moment and I would not
have argued.
"Poor girl," Elena said, and cupped my breasts. She brushed my
hard nipples with her fingertips. Her touch felt nice. She kissed my
hot forehead.
I felt my panties being drawn down in back. Inadequate as they
were, they were proving too modest now for my hosts. I wanted terribly
to keep my legs pressed together, but the man, still nameless, pulled my
knees apart. I did not fight him. I knew I was lost then. My panties
were removed completely and my stance made very wide. Elena slipped out
of her dress in a single, fluid movement. Her body proved very
appealing, even to a girl like myself with a stunning body of my own.
Her breasts were magnificently large, bouncing on her chest as she
fetched a spreader bar from a corner of the room. She knelt down and
clamped my ankles into it. She moved so quickly, I was so dazed, I had
little chance to protest, offered none.
Looking up from her handiwork, Elena smiled. "You'll pee now,
darling, or be flayed alive." Behind me I realized the man was undoing
his belt. Elena took my wrists and held them tightly together. She
pulled me forward to more fully present my heinie to our suitor. I
glanced wildly around, wanting to flee, looking for help. I spotted
Kyle, her wet panties off, and she was grinding her ass into a man's
loins, happily taking him from behind as a woman, kneeling in front,
devoured her pussy.
Suddenly I peed. Right on the rug. I felt like some wayward
mare. Elena, still crouching in front of me, gasped, flinched, drew
back. She did not want to be spattered with my urine as it hit the
carpet. Yet she still held my wrists, bending my head even closer to
the floor as she fell back from my piddling.
Two women drifted up on either side of my suitor. "Bad girl!"
one said.
"She should be trained to go in her panties, like she's
supposed to," the other remarked. Apparently Kyle and I were not the
first pupils to attend Elena's "school." The women snuggled up to my
suitor and gave his cock an admiring squeeze. Looking over my shoulder,
I gazed at the size of his organ in their small hands. He brushed them
away. Cock throbbing, he raised his belt, now held in a loop. He
brought it down fiercely upon my fundament.
"OOoaah!" I shouted as a new mark was added to my once-pretty
posterior. He gave me two more for good measure. Juicy swats, right
across my ass, delivered full force. I jammed my cheeks together and
howled at the rafters. My peerless rounds were being turned into one
giant red tomato. Elena released my hands and I shot upright. My palms
flew to my bottom and I grabbed handfuls of it, still standing with my
legs fixed wide by the spreader bar.
"WAH!" I sobbed, totally losing what little remained of my
composure. How could I possibly hold my own against a man who could
break off coitus as casually as most men change their underpants? I
knew then that I had a long night ahead.
Elena rose and seized my nipples, twisted them. The pain that
shot through them redirected my attention towards her.
"Stop crying, young lady!" Elena said fiercely. Frightfully I
swallowed my tears. "That's better," Elena said, and let go of my
teats, leaving them sore. I began hiccuping. My suitor laughed. Elena
looked at me, shook her head disapprovingly. I felt like the little
girl I knew I still was, undisciplined, uncorrected, untutored.
Elena bent down and undid my ankles. I shifted my weight on my
legs to close them but Elena warned me not to. She twisted the bar,
shortened it a bit, and reattached it just above my knees. I felt
grotesquely wide open, and my suitor knew it.
"This is not a place where girls keep their legs closed," he
whispered in my ear. He drew my lips apart, my teeth. I saw a flash of
red and felt him jam a ball gag into my mouth. I hiccuped. I
sniffled. Securely he fastened the gag in place. My eyes bulging,
mouth popped wide by the big ball, I felt like some fish on a pier. Oh,
how did I ever get into such a mess? I didn't even know these people!
A collar was slipped around my neck and fastened. Attached to
it was a leash. "Let's go meet the other guests," my suitor, now my
master, said. He handed the leash to Elena.
To my horror I was led spraddle-legged over to a couple that
had just finished fucking. My master invited the man to fuck my
outthrust pussy. He was young, and his penis immediately lengthened at
the invitation. He glanced at his wife.
"Go ahead, dear," she said languidly. She seemed older than
he. The man rose, glanced once at my face, then put his hands firmly on
my hips to steady me. A moment later I cried out as he threaded himself
up me. I was an object, nothing more, for his sexual gratification. He
pumped me steadily, hungry but unhurried. He'd had the edge taken off
his lust by his first ejaculation in his wife. Or was the woman merely
his mistress, perhaps just for the evening? I had no idea. The man
grunted happily. I bucked, coughed, felt desire coming over me.
"God, she's nice and tight!" the man said finally.
"She must be fucked repeatedly," my master replied.
"Thoroughly opened," Elena said. I shivered. I did not want
to be here. I wanted to play truant, run away from school.
Three more men fucked me there in the ballroom, each paying me
no compliment, except as to the tightness of my cunt. And they
stiffened nicely, when I was offered to them. I seemed to make a man
rise up swiftly even when he thought he'd shot his last. A tribute, I
suppose, to my beauty, though it was unspoken.
Finally, led by my leash, I waddled into an adjacent room.
There was a bed in the middle of it. Elena turned down the covers and
boosted me up onto it. It was a big bed. I was made to kneel in the
middle of it. Elena pressed my face down onto the sheet. My ass rose
above my still-imprisoned knees like some baleful moon, streaked with
red. I wanted so much to be able to close my legs. Elena drew my hands
between my legs until they were next to my ankles. My arms were stiff,
straight, elevated slightly by having to cross over the spreader bar.
Elena wrapped my left wrist to my left ankle, using a nylon stocking.
Then she did the same with the right. I felt like a turkey, all trussed
up for thanksgiving. And I feared my tail was about to be basted!
A chill ran up my spine as I heard the slither of a whip being
taken from its protective case. It reminded me of the flute I'd played
in high school. I could make noise with both instruments, I realized.
Obviously my master didn't leave his whips lying about any more than I
would have left my flute out. It was an expensive flute. This must be
a very fine whip. Nothing but the best for poor Barbi!
"Why are you shivering?" Elena asked. She stroked my back.
"This is the best whip made in South America," master intoned
behind me. "You should feel proud to have such perfectly crafted
leather." With a flick of his wrist he let the whip fly out,
uncoiling. I lurched forward as it bit deeply into my ass. God! The
sting! At once I began crying. Only the tip had struck me, but it made
me wiggle my bottom about like I'd been visited by a bee.
"A bit more lightly perhaps," Elena said. She twirled a lock
of my hair in her finger. "The girl is only 15. She might think us
inhospitable hosts."
My whipping lasted for hours. In fact, it did prove to be less
severe than it could have been. That was of little consequence,
however, for they made up for the lightness of the strokes by giving me
so many of them. Death by a thousand cuts.
After awhile master had Elena remove my ball gag. He said he
wanted to hear me scream. The cuts were a little sterner then, for
awhile, and I cried out prettily, I thought, though I could hardly bear
it. I hoped to win a reprieve for my bottom if he liked my ululations.
He did, but too much perhaps, for he kept on whipping me. He told me I
had the ass for it.
Occasionally I had to pee. Elena would bring a little silver
bowl and place it between my legs. I would go right there, upon the
bed, into the bowl. Master would stand by, holding his whip, waiting
for me to finish. Then he would begin my punishment anew, my love
punishment, for never did they say I'd done anything wrong. I was
merely a young girl, a young animal, being trained. I'd made no
mistakes in my schoolwork that were unexpected. The whipping had been
as inevitable from the start as the fuckings had been, in the ballroom.
Now and then Elena would frig master, to keep him hard. I
marvelled at his fortitude, even as I cursed him behind my gag. I
wanted up, wanted to be free of this awful whipping.
At last they did undo my hands, but left the spreader bar in
place. Elena said I must have a "breather." She urged me to unfold my
posture and straighten my back. Agonizingly I raised up my back.
Woefully I tried to clasp my bottom. My poor pumpkin was so sore! My
touch only hurt it more.
"No darling, leave your bottom alone. You cannot help it,"
Elena admonished. "Just do what you can, move about, feel your freedom,
such as it is. It won't last long."
I let go of my bottom and stretched, lifting my hands to the
ceiling. A smile broke across my lips, welcome but unwanted. I wanted
to pity myself, not celebrate some odd dose of "freedom." Yet I smiled
all the same. I leaned rightward, then leftward. It felt good,
stretching. Then I collapsed onto the bed.
My legs, still fixed by the bar, remained immobile. My ass
stayed boldly aloft. The rest of me, though, melted into the sheets. I
felt impossibly tired. My bottom was a pulsing ball of heat. I could
not even begin to fathom how to cope, what to do. I began to weep,
quietly.
Elena retrieved my hands from under my face and drew them out,
bound my wrists together and tied them off at the head of the bed. But
she left slack in the line. I was not so rigidly kept as before. They
trusted me more now.
Again the whip. Lightly now, with a "shocker" now and then to
keep me alert. I could not really tell the intensity of the blows
anymore, though, the "shockers" may have been the touch of two feathers,
the others the touch of one. My fanny was terribly sensitive now.
Breath alone would have made me squeal. The time drifted on,
dreamlike. My entire concentration was focused on my fanny, with points
of interest at my tits and clitty. I simpered, whined, howled
occasionally. My lovers too kept their attention on my ass. It was as
if the whole world was concerned with my tushy, and nothing else.
Something nudged my anus. A shiver ran up my spine. I lifted
my head, shook my much-tousled locks as best I could from my face and
turned it about to see what was up. Master's penis. Was he intending
to take me, at last? Suddenly I realized I wanted him. Even if it
meant having to take him up my ass.
"Tell me," he murmured, his voice husky.
I bit my lip. I could not bring myself to say it.
He jabbed my sphincter. I felt a drop of his cum upon my
opening. "Tell me!"
"I-I want to be your slave," I breathed. My eyes widened as I
realized what I'd said. He seemed shocked too. Permission to fuck my
ass was all he'd wanted. Perhaps because he'd sought it I'd chosen to
give him more, much more.
Elena put a finger to my lips. Was she offering to silence me,
to keep me from something dark and mysterious that I knew nothing about,
was anyway too young for? Slavery. The word sent a chill through me.
I trembled all over. I opened my mouth and sucked Elena's finger.
Sucked it hard, like a cock, savored it. She brushed my hair from my
face with her free hand.
"Sweet, young thing. You do not know what you ask. This has
been mere play. Slavery is...well..." she turned her eyes to my master,
the man I'd pretended was my master but now really wanted to be. A man
whose name I didn't even know. Was it his self-restraint which
captivated me? He'd yet to finish what I'd so rudely interrupted when
I'd come naked into the ballroom, unable to pee.
He stroked my bottom, sending sizzling arrows of pain across
it. He toyed with my sphincter. My puckered rose beckoned. It was not
in pain. It sought attention. "Your wish is my command," he said at
last. I felt his palms make contact with my bare seat. I shrieked, but
swallowed the last of it. He cupped me, spread me, lifted me, spread me
wider. He introduced his penis into my rectum. I lurched forward,
retreating.
His cockhead stayed within me, carried forward but not removed
by my last-minute girlish reluctance. "Bear down," he growled. I bit
my lip and pushed my bottom back. He grabbed the front of my thighs and
shoved me ass-first toward him.
I yelped. He burrowed within. "Bear down!" he commanded
again. Tears welling in my eyes, staining my cheeks, I obeyed. I
shoved my hips back.
"OOOCH!" I was crazy! Impaling myself on a spear!
"Good girl, I'll make you more receptive, don't worry, this is
but our first trial together," he said gently but then rammed himself
roughly up me. I broke into tears. It hurt!
Master eased himself back, then forward, going a little deeper,
but more slowly this time, not wanting to tear anything. Rectal tissue
is fragile, I've learned, and I was to be his property. One does not
vandalize one's property wilfully.
I sucked on Elena's finger as he pistoned me gently. In, out,
in again, out again. Elena began fucking my mouth with her finger,
playfully. With her other hand she rubbed her clitoris, then mine! I
felt the wetness from her own pussy on her fingertips. We would all
come soon, I knew, completing the journey from our staid meeting in the
formal ballroom to this liquid-saturated tryst upon a bed.
At last, planting himself as deep within me as he could, master
let himself go. A flood of hot sperm rushed into me, filling me.
Excited, I broke over the rim of orgasm and juiced Elena's prying,
tickling fingers. She wedged herself down against my thigh and rubbed
her clitty against me there. Gasping, she came. My knee, my bent leg
was her gentleman, her savior.
Exhaustion overcame me as we humped together through our
climaxes. I never felt the end of mine, so thoroughly spent was I from
my ordeal. When I awoke it was morning.
I lay face down upon the bed. My long hair spread across my
back, protecting it from the early morning chill. Sheets were drawn up
to the tops of my thighs. My ass, totally bare, felt warm still. I
flexed it, drew in my breath sharply at its tenderness.
A squirting sound came to my ears. I felt wetness upon my
bottom. Opening my eyes, I saw Elena. Merrily she squirted another jet
of cream onto my hotly palpitating peach. Then, deftly, she smeared the
salve with her fingertips. It felt delicious.
"Don't get up," she said. There was a twinkle in her eyes. "I
know you have to go to the bathroom. Just go, right there, right on the
sheets." I couldn't believe my ears! Elena stroked my pussy.
"There are few freedoms in being a slave. This is one that you
are being given. Enjoy it while you can," she said. "In fact, if you
refuse..." her voice trailed off. I could not bear, could not afford
another whipping.
Was I really a slave now? I felt no different, looked no
different. A man cleared his throat.
I turned my head, looked to the other side of the bed. He was
there! He gazed down at me. Master. My master. My wish was his
command. Was his wish my command now?
"Wet the bed," he ordered. I could not! Imploringly I looked
at him. "Don't make me smack that blazing red ass of yours," he said.
I gulped. Dolefully I looked at him. He was implacable. Elena's
fingers seemed to taunt my bottom. The salve, it was merely to prepare
me for the next whipping!
I peed suddenly. Master saw my eyes widen, panic-stricken, as
I realized what I was doing. I felt warmth spread out beneath my
thighs. Elena was laughing. I'd peed on her fingers. Her other hand
kept at my bottom. Chuckling, she admired the pee dripping from her
fingers, caught in the sudden golden downpour. What other awful
delights did these two have in store for me? Even as I relieved myself
I felt little relief.
Elena drew a warm bath in the lavatory that was adjacent to the
bedroom. She and master lifted me from the bed and led me, stumbling,
to the bathroom. I shuffled unsteadily between them like some wounded
soldier girl returning from the front. I'd survived the joust, but hurt
all over. They eased me into the water. It was laden with
sweet-smelling bubbles. They slipped in on either side of me.
I relaxed, my newfound friends on either side of me. They lay
back in the water, as I did. We drifted together in a warm, perfumed
wetness, like foetuses in the womb. Time passed, gently.
There was a ripple in the water. Had a shark's fin broken the
surface. Elena and I looked. It was master's penis! He was stiff
again.
Soon we were sporting in the water like seals. Master teased
us with his cock. We flirted back at him. Hands roamed and sought,
bodies slithered. Elena and I fell into an embrace and kissed,
passionately. Master, pleased, urged us to kiss for as long as we
could. We were water babies, making up our story as we went along.
Finally we got out of the tub. Our skin gleamed wetly.
Excitement coursed through our limbs. Master's stood upright, eager and
ready. My stiff nipples felt like they were bursting from my breasts.
Elena's were luringly hard too, coral tips dangerous to fish, poisonous.
We towelled off. Our eyes never left each other's bodies.
Dry, we clasped hands and made for the bedroom. A maid had come in,
changed the linen. She'd put out new jars of cream, KY jelly, colored
condoms. There was a tray of fruit upon the bed. I marvelled at how
everything was arranged for non-stop sex. I felt wickedly perverted.
Elena and master drew me onto the bed between them. We sat
upon the edge. I winced at the touch of the cool sheets upon my
bottom. I was sore still. Perhaps it was a mark of my slavery, that I
should wince while they sat comfortably. Elena smiled, picked up a
banana, peeled it. Master's penis throbbed manfully, our nipples perked
playfully, but there was no rush, no hurry. We would enjoy our
sexuality now. We would savor our nudity. I noticed my thighs were
open, considered closing them, did not. I was carefree, except for the
soreness of my fanny. But then, that is how master wanted me. The
state of my tushy was his sign of dominance over me, of my submission to
his will. Elena fed me the banana and I ate it lovingly. Master
stroked my belly.
"Have you ever worn a butt plug?" Elena asked. I giggled.
"Why would you want me to wear a butt plug?" I replied, forming
the new words with interest. "I don't even know what it is."
Elena seemed to take an interest in my nipples. She tweaked
one. "If you were not so young I'd insist you have these pierced," she
said.
Finished with my banana, I drew my hands behind my back. I straightened
my arms and stuck out my tits proudly. Lightly I shook them. They
jiggled like firm mounds of freshly-made Jello.
"Whatever do you mean, pierced?" I asked. I was genuinely
curious.
"Like your ears," Elena said. My eyes widened. "You could
wear a gold chain between them. It would look very sexy."
"What do you think?" I asked, turning my head to master. My
breasts remained thrust forward obscenely. I wanted him to notice them,
admire them. I was not all ass.
"You are a true delight from head to toe," was master's only
response.
Elena chuckled, rose, a sly smile on her lips. I watched her
swaying derriere as she strode to an armorie against the wall. She
opened it. I gasped. Inside were surgical tools. Elena glanced over
her shoulder. "Don't fret," she reassured me. "My former husband was a
doctor, that's all. Come, and let me show you all his gear. It's a
trip to look at it when you're naked and ready for love play." Slowly I
rose from the bed. This journey I seemed to be on was taking new twists
and turns as easily as some errant path. A trail on a cliffs edge.
Beware, rocks above. Chasm below.
Standing beside Elena, with master behind me, nudging me with
his dick and gripping me firmly by my arms, I gazed into a Dahlmeresque
abyss. Elena, who knew each instrument by name, pointed them all out to
me. "This is a scalpel, and this..." I could not absorb the names. The
sharp, glinting edges of the instruments scared me. Elena twirled a few
in her fingers, teased me about the vulnerability of my stiffly erected
nipples. Master held me tight. I was utterly captive. His cock jabbed
within my bottom crack, poking me remorselessly, threatening to find my
anus.
Wide-eyed, I shivered. Elena explained how breast reductions
were done, mastectomies. "They're very profitable. My husband used to
do them for a living. He always said my breasts were too large," Elena
said.
"Did you— did you...?" I posed the question fearfully.
"No, though he almost had me convinced once," Elena said. "He
was going to do the procedure right on our bed." I trembled visibly.
"I'm glad," I said. "That you refused. But I wish you
wouldn't show me any more. It scares me terribly."
Slowly Elena closed the armoire. Master drew me back toward
the bed. "Let's," I said. "Let's not do it here." I didn't want to
remain so close to a closet full of horrors.
"Are you frightened, dear baby?" Elena asked. She turned
toward me, a lioness. Her hair cascaded gloriously over her tawny
shoulders. "It is the essence of slavery. Fear of the unknown. What
will master do next? What could he do? We'll tie you spread-eagled to
the bed now, and let you spend the day speculating..."
"No!" I cried. I was truly afraid now. The cabinet could be
opened again just as easily as it had been closed. I fought master's
grip. I twisted my body to get free. My hair flew about. He wrestled
my lovely figure to the bed, laughing at my resistance. I was like a
newborn foal. His strength was overwhelming.
Soon I was held fast to the bed with fibrous ropes. They bit
into my arms, my ankles. Punishment in themselves for my
recalcitrance. Elena hovered over me, waving a scalpel. She had
reopened the armoire. "I could cut you free, or I could cut you," she
said. "It would be a crime to mar such a beautiful body."
"Don't drop that thing!" I hissed. My eyes were bug-eyes.
Master stood on the other side of the bed, stroking his cock. He
enjoyed my fear.
Elena let the scalpel descend until it nestled within my pubic
thatch. My hips were lifted up by a pillow placed strategically beneath
them. My cunt was displayed. They had arranged me thus. Modesty was
not a virtue amongst them.
"My, I wonder if you need an abortion?" Elena asked. Of
course my teenage tummy was flat as a pancake, even concave. "You could
be pregnant, with all the sperm master shot you up with. Well, I guess
the baby would have to be in your ass though, wouldn't it? Perhaps a
little exploratory surgery there might reveal something..."
As I was about to speak again master leaned over me. He ripped
a broad piece of tape from a roll of the stuff and taped my mouth shut.
I nearly fainted with fear.
My eyes darted from one to the other as Master scrubbed himself
up in a steel bowl full of water while Elena got out more surgical
gear. Rapidly the bedroom was turning into a hospital operating room.
The two of them drew on rubber gloves. He tied on a surgical mask, and
Elena did also. Master directed a lamp onto me, illuminating the
surface of my skin.
"Pity the patient won't tell us what her problem is," master
said.
"She seems to be uncommunicative at the moment," Elena
replied. "Shall I start the anesthesia, doctor?" Her eyes were warm.
Her gaze fell to his penis. He was hard and thoroughly stimulated.
"No need," he replied. "We'll do just the urethral today. She
seems to have a problem with peeing."
"Ah yes," Elena replied. She drew forth a length of plastic
tubing. I was beyond fright. I had no idea what they were up to.
Elena greased the end of the tube. It was obviously going
somewhere....
"Mmmmph!" I shrieked as I suddenly discovered the tube's
insidious mission. They were going to thread it up my pee hole!
"Concentrate on your breathing...deep breaths," Elena advised
me. She stuck me with the tube and up it went. Elena proceeded slowly,
professionally. She coaxed me not to fight it. I hardly could, though
I desperately wanted to. Agonizingly the tube thrust upward. I felt
like I had a dick, seeing that long length of tubing sticking out of my
pee hole. Master spread vaseline on his cock so he could stroke himself
with his rubber gloves on. He proceeded to masturbate, giving himself
pleasure as he watched my agony.
Master offered the jar of vaseline to Elena. She dipped a
gloved finger in it, spread the stuff over her clitty. She frigged
herself, happily, then proceeded to stuff the tube further up me. She
stopped again to masturbate some more.
I bucked my hips upon the pillow. I wanted them to get this
over with! God, I couldn't lie here like this. But they took their
sweet time, playing with themselves. I was merely the spur to their
pleasure. My plight was unimportant.
I felt pressure at my bladder. A final push and Elena breached
it. My pee shot down the tube and into a bag connected to its other
end. I felt totally violated, wondered if I'd been damaged.
"Relax, you're fine," Elena said, brushing beads of sweat from
my forehead. "A urethral exam is a totally harmless, normal procedure.
See? We've measured how much pee was in your bladder." She lifted the
bag at the end of the tube. It was marked off in inches. "Anyway,
master promised you that you'd be opened up. So don't complain."
Slowly the tubing was then removed. I shuddered with relief
when Elena finally drew it out of me. I felt as if I'd given
birth...through my pee hole! Master mounted me. He forced open my
pussy with his cock. I could not deny him. He grunted.
"Even your cunt is tight!" he croaked. He was not used to
15-year-old girls. With an effort he forced himself up me. I was hot,
aroused. My fright had increased my need. I welcomed him, though I
knew I shouldn't, after what he and Elena had just done to me.
Grunting, he got himself as deep as he could. Then he began moving in
and out of me, the velvet walls of my pussy gripping him with girlish
virginity every inch of the way. My cherry was gone, but not my
narrowness. My vagina was a needle through which his engorged
camel-cock must somehow pass.
"You must be fucked rigorously on a daily basis, you damn
vixen!" Master complained. Surely my cunt was not as tight as my
backside had been. Perhaps he was more conscious this morning. Last
night he'd been desperate with hours of postponed lust. Today he could
actually judge what he was getting into, and comment on it as he went.
"If she's too tight for you there's always the scalpel,
doctor," Elena suggested, to my perpetual fright.
"No, no," master replied. He strove upon me, I squirmed and
bucked. Together we became less coherent, more passionate. As Elena
watched we climaxed together.
30
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