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From: Andrew Roller <roller39@IDT.NET>
Subject: Love Child part 6 of 15 (NND)
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_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
LOVE CHILD
_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
Chapter Six
My bottom was nicely healed by evening. Master said that as
his new slave I must have my teeth inspected. Elena dressed me in a
short skirt and pullover sweater. It had long sleeves. She made me put
on schoolgirl stockings, up over the knees, but said I wouldn't need
panties. I slipped on shiny black ankle boots with immoderately high
heels.
A servant drove me to the dental office. It was to be an
evening appointment. "They're staying open late, just to accommodate
you," Elena had said to me as she kissed me goodbye. She promised to
keep the bed warm for me until I got back.
"Will you two make love while I'm gone?" I asked plaintively.
Master kissed my forehead, father-like. It was a simple benediction.
"You carry my seed with you," he said. It might be true, I
thought, though Elena and I had douched ourselves for him in the
bathroom. He'd enjoyed watching us. We'd hidden nothing from his
eyes. Elena had insisted that everything, even a woman's most private
moments, must be bared to master. We could keep no secrets from him for
we were his property. Even our poop belonged to him, if he wanted it.
And if he wished for us to poop for others, we would most surely be
required to. Even mounting silver trays to do it, if he wished, in a
ballroom full of people. I could not imagine myself doing such a
humiliating thing, but thought it best to keep my mouth shut. If I
argued the point he'd have me pooping within the hour.
It was cold and windy when the servant let me out of the limo
in front of the dentist's. There was a light rain. He did not
accompany me up to the door.
I stepped over and into puddles and silently thanked Elena for
making me wear boots. My skirt, though, was another matter, for I had
to keep it pulled tightly down with my hands lest it flip up and show my
bottom.
Across the street a bar was open. I heard a whistle. I
glanced back over my shoulder. Quickly I knocked to be let in. The
door opened and a woman received me.
Startled, I saw that she was plump and had a child in tow.
"Bye, bye," a youthful voice called from a counter at the
opposite end of the room.
"Good evening," the woman said, and went out. The door clicked
shut and locked itself behind her.
"Hi! You're our last patient for the evening," A cheery female
said from behind the check-in counter. "Could I just get you to fill
this out?" She lifted a clipboard with a form attached. I walked up to
the counter to take it.
"Hi, my name's Gretchen. I'm the dental assistant," a girl,
barely older than myself, smiled at me. Her hair was done up in a loose
bun. It was golden blonde, as radiant as her personality. She wore a
white nurse's jacket, surprisingly decollete, within which loomed a very
round, very high set pair of bosoms. The upper curves of their satiny
surfaces casually exposed themselves. She seemed to have no bra on
underneath. A blouse was, obviously, out of the question.
Around her neck Gretchen wore a neatly tied white chiffon
scarf. She must have tugged at it, though, while doing figures or
something, for I saw that the scarf was intended to hide a collar
underneath. It was slim and black, like a dog's collar. I wondered if
she had a master like I did.
Taking the clipboard, I turned to a chair. I brushed my skirt
under my fanny and held it there until I'd sat down. I crossed my
legs. Then I looked at the form. I gasped. It had nothing to do about
teeth. Its first question asked me the last time I'd had an orgasm, and
whether I'd enjoyed it. I was asked to rate the orgasm on a scale of 1
to 10. The questions got worse from there.
"Just fill out what you can," Gretchen advised me sweetly. "If
you haven't had some of the procedures yet, just skip them." I gazed at
the form. Enemas, piercing, branding...
"Have you had all of these?" I asked, looking up.
"Of course not, I'm only 16," Gretchen replied happily. It was
as if I'd asked her whether she'd graduated high school, the way she
replied. She was earnestly upbeat, air-headed. I poked my way through
the form and then got up and handed it back to her.
"Fine, thank you, I'll leave it for the dentist's inspection,"
she said, not looking at it. "Would you like to come back into the
office now and get ready?" She rose. Her eyes beckoned. I let her
lead me back, through a door. We entered a room equipped with a
dentist's chair, a sink, instruments.
"Please take off all your clothes," Gretchen said
dispassionately, sweetly.
"My?" I couldn't help but stammer.
"You are the last appointment," Gretchen replied. "Didn't
your...boyfriend...request the last appointment for you?"
"Um, yes," I said. There was no arguing it. Master had set
this up for me. It was his will.
"Do you need any help?" Gretchen asked, a puzzled look on her
face.
"Um, no," I said, and crossed my arms over my waist. I grasped
my sweater and pulled it up. My boobies wobbled deliciously as my
sweater crossed over them. I felt shy, yet excited. The woolen
pullover had tickled my titties to coral-tipped hardness.
Gretchen took my sweater from me and hung it in a closet. I
reached behind myself and unzipped my skirt. It dropped to my ankles, I
stepped out of it, bent over, picked it up and gave it to gretchen.
"You have pretty legs," she said admiringly. "But leave your stockings
on." She folded my dress over a hanger in the closet. "And your shoes,
too."
Apprehensively I settled into the dentist's chair. Its vinyl
surface was chilly against my skin.
"Sit up," Gretchen advised. She opened a drawer in a counter
next to the chair. She took out a pair of handcuffs. "Some patients
like to squirm," she explained.
"I'm very well behaved," I protested.
"Up!" she said, in a cheerful yet no-nonsense tone. I sat up
in the dentist's chair and she twisted my back toward her, holding me by
my shoulders. Then she drew my arms behind me and handcuffed my wrists
together. "You may sit back now," she said happily. I sat back, aware
of my bosoms, how they seemed to bloom up from my chest. They were
lily-white, with stiff, cherry nipple tips. I pressed my legs
together. I would be modest there, at least. Gretchen sensed my
insecurity.
"Don't be afraid," she said. "Girls come here all the time to
be inspected. I've seen three already and its only my first week." She
turned to a mirror, let down her hair, shook it out. Businesslike she
opened her jacket to expose her breasts. Her nipples were risen,
springy, pink candy. She touched them to make sure they were properly
hard. I felt she did it simply because she'd been told to, not because
she needed to. She was already brimming with youthful energy. Her
teats looks as vibrant as any 16-year-old's could.
"Have you been...inspected?" I asked. My nipples, already
hard, seemed to grow more rigid at the sound of my question.
Gretchen untied her chiffon scarf. The dog collar gleamed
beneath. A lock kept it securely closed. "Oh yes," Gretchen replied.
"The dentist expects me to be in tip-top shape to work here. It
wouldn't be fair to the patients if I wasn't." She reached back,
unzipped her skirt. It fell to the floor, leaving her only in her
little nurses' jacket. She wore a pair of miniscule white panties which
struggled to contain her pert bottom. She bent over, straining the
semi-sheer undies to the breaking point, it seemed. They were already
torn in several places, gaping rents running right across the seat.
"Why are your panties torn?" I asked.
"Ohh, master whipped me," she said. "I was bad. I deserved
it. He let me keep my panties on, but they didn't help much. Now he
insists I wear these panties every day to remind me I'm a bad girl."
Her bottom was white, whatever she'd suffered. I wondered if she was
due for another whipping tonight. She hung up her dress in the closet
next to mine.
Turning around, Gretchen put a hand down the front of her
panties. "Excuse me. I'm required to "heat up," as master says, before
I call him. He says I'm way too tight for a 16-year-old girl, a "big
girl," as he likes to say. He thinks if I rub myself a lot it will
loosen me. Totally ridiculous, of course," she rolled her eyes.
"What's that?" a male voice called out. Gretchen gulped,
pulled her hand out of her panties. She tugged on her jacket, as if to
straighten it, as if it mattered, with her tits hanging out. Perhaps it
did, though. It was a nicely starched jacket.
"The patient is ready, doctor," Gretchen called nervously.
"Very good. I hope you are too," the male voice answered.
"Yes, doctor." She gave a compliant wiggle as he strode
commandingly into the room.
Looking up, I suddenly saw the office itself was
out-of-the-ordinary, not just the workers. There were twin leather foot
cuffs hanging from the ceiling! My legs, if lifted, would strap easily
into them. All someone needed to do was lower the cuffs a little, and I
had no doubt they could be lowered. I trembled. The dentist sat down
beside me. He was large, broad-shouldered.
"And how are we doing today?" he asked absently. Without
donning gloves he pried open my mouth, introduced a dental pick into
it. I shivered as he set about testing my fillings. "Fine, fine," he
said. "You take very good care of your teeth. Your master will be
pleased." Then he put down his dental pick. He poured some fluid into
my mouth, had me swish it around, then raise myself up and spit it out
into a sink. It tasted of lemons. When I'd laid back again he
surprised me.
"There are other parts of you that I'm qualified to examine,"
he said. "And I'm equipped with a special instrument to examine those
parts," he added. He unzipped himself.
"Not--not today, please," I said.
"Oh, but this is not something a young lady who is a love slave
can refuse," he said. Freeing his cock, he proceeded to carefully
examine my nipples. He used a blunted dental pick, and his fingers.
"Nice, very nice," he observed. Then he looked at me directly.
"Your master says you are too tight. However, I can assist.
Gretchen?" The dental assistant took one of my ankles and lifted it
up. I knew where it was going, knew I could not refuse.
"I-I don't want," I protested. He stroked my tummy.
"Hmmm, you could use a little obedience training, just like
Gretchen here," he said. I gazed solemnly at my legs as Gretchen lifted
them up, buckled them into the straps. Even as I watched the
imprisoning of my legs, the preparations for my impending doom, I
couldn't help but admire Gretchen. Her hands lofted overhead as she
drew the cuffs lower, small, dainty, the youthful jut of her pretty
breasts, her panties barely covering her pubic hair. She was an angel
in white, in ripped panties. Carefully she buckled me into the cuffs.
My legs were spread wide, my pussy fully exposed, my ass exposed too as
my legs were drawn forward next, until my heels were directly over my
head.
"Sir!" I gaped. I felt like some upended sack of potatoes.
"A perfect picture!" the dentist replied. "Gretchen, fetch the
camera. Another splendid photo for our wall of shame."
To my horror Gretchen got out a camera and took several
pictures of me. The dentist assured me that his female customers,
particularly the wealthy older ones, would take great pleasure in seeing
a young girl thus displayed. "They're jealous, of course, of your
beauty and youth, but its one of the perks I provide them with. For an
extra fee, of course. All the best women in town come to see me."
"You're a beast!" I said.
"An animal, as you'll see," he chuckled.
"That's not funny," I replied.
"But you'll laugh or I'll gag you." I didn't laugh, but just
glared at him, my makeup still impeccable, my stare hot and defiant.
"So delightfully naughty," was his only reply.
"There! Now you're all ready!" Gretchen said happily, checking
my ankle cuffs one last time. She slid off her panties and, to my
shock, stuffed them in her mouth. She presented herself to the dentist,
her behind towards him, and he took a strip of black cloth and gagged
her with it.
Gretchen opened a drawer and took out a flexible lifelike
dildo, complete with hanging testicles. They were bulging already with
some nefarious substance that had been pumped into them. Gretchen
slipped on the cock and, with her master's help, cinched it up tightly
into her loins. It doubled as a crack belt. Gretchen's mouth gaped in
a rictus of startled alarm as the belt was drawn firmly into place. It
ran down between her ass cheeks, giving them an extra outward thrust as
it separated them. The lips of her pussy were divided by the rope,
which pressed between them, isolating her clitty and
ruthlessly stimulating it.
Recovering herself, Gretchen waddled over to me, her big
sausage of a cock bobbing between her legs. She reached down and
squeezed the sac beneath the cock. A shot of warm white cream fired
from the ersatz penis and landed on my nose. Gretchen and the dentist
laughed.
"See?" Gretchen said gaily. "He gave me my very own penis!"
She mounted me, awkwardly, the dentist giving her bottom a helpful
push. She settled on my chest and thrust the cock at me. "Suck," she
commanded. Reluctantly I accepted the rubber dick between my lips as
the dentist presented his own organ to my cunt.
With a grimace I received them both. Gretchen at my mouth, the
dentist ramming himself into my womb. I hated my master for turning me
over to these two. Gretchen was a silly air-head, the dentist a
brooding, uncaring lout. Fucking me, he took up a birch rod and began
beating Gretchen's bulging bottom. She deserved it, I thought, gagging
on her fake cock as she broke into tears above me.
Suddenly I heard sirens in the distance. My lovers seemed to
start. For a moment the dentist ceased his flagellation. Then, quick
as startled foxes, they fucked me ever more feverishly. Streams of
sweet cream leapt into my mouth as Gretchen reached between herself and
gave her rubber testicles quick squeezes. The dentist, doing his best
within the confines of my youthful cunt, moved back and forth rapidly
until he came, flooding me with his hot sperm. They both jumped up as
soon as they were done, indeed, before they were quite done, for the
dentist shot the last of his load against my thigh. He grabbed his
red-bottomed assistant by her arm and yanked her through a door.
"Don't leave without your cunt," I thought to myself. The
dentist was unlikely to find such a compliant girl again if he lost this
one. She seemed oblivious to his selfish nature. I determined then and
there not to return to my master. He should not have given me over to a
bum like this.
The door through which my two tormentors had just escaped now
opened to jack-booted policemen. The first through, in fact, was a
woman in uniform. I cringed as she looked upon me, dispassionately, my
cunt splayed wide and dripping semen, my mouth smeared with cream.
After first photographing me in my bound state, as "evidence,"
the police untied me. With difficulty I stood up, asking for my
clothes. When I'd dressed they took me down to the police station. I
was locked in a room for "protection" and left there for hours. It was
the beginning of a new life for me.
Within a week I was working for the Argentine government as a
secretary in the "Department of Classified Information." It was their
local version of the Central Intelligence Agency. A kindly old
gentleman had found me in the bowels of the police department, asked few
questions, and set me up in my own apartment. He seemed to be very high
up in the Argentine government, and said he needed a secretary. So, I
instantly became a secretary. I was sure he wanted me for sex, but he
only ever took me to dinner, then dropped me back at my apartment. We
went out together often in the evening, sometimes went dancing
afterward, though he only sat on the sidelines watching me dance with
other men.
I loved my new life. I was free, independent, save for the
solicitude of my "savior," as I called him. Dancing in Buenos Aires'
hottest clubs thrilled me. I got to be as provocative with the men in
the clubs as I wished. It seemed to delight my savior to watch me strut
my stuff and turn on all the men in the club. Yet, none of the men
could have me, nor would I let them, for my savior was always only a few
yards away, watching. Apparently he came to the clubs often, and I was
his latest girl. They knew not to mess with his "merchandise," he
explained to me once.
Apparently the dentist had been running drugs, which is why the
police closed in. I had been the unexpected prize of their raids.
Someone in the police department had called my savior, knowing he was in
need of a new girlfriend. He never told me he was married, but I
figured he must be, for why else would he not have me put up at his
house, where he could admire me all day long?
Our relationship continued for several months. One day,
sitting in my apartment sipping drinks after a lusty night on the town,
he told me I was needed for "a mission of national importance."
"You are so sweet," I said, smiling. "If you want me to suck
your cock, just say so." He loved hearing me talk dirty. He'd even
taught me all the dirtiest words in Spanish so I could say them to him
in his limo, snuggling against him in the back seat. I'd become more
forward with him lately. He never asked to take any liberties with me.
At first I'd kept my distance, sure he was just saving me for some
special moment. But as the weeks lengthened into months and he made no
move, I began to tease him, a little at first, then more salaciously.
Once I'd even let him into my apartment wearing only my panties, just to
see what his reaction to me. He'd simply told me to get dressed.
"Ah, I am past the pleasures of youth," he said to me now.
"But there are those who are not, of course. Some of them live in
England, and as you know England went to war with Argentina over the
Falkland Islands some years ago, and won. We've been smarting from that
defeat ever since. We need someone to go there as a spy, to London, and
make friends with their government officials."
I stared at him. Me? A spy? "You mean like Get Smart?" I
asked. He chuckled.
"Yes, you would be 99, and a young gay man would be Mr. Smart.
We'll give you a visa saying you're 17-years-old, and his wife. That
birthday of yours we celebrated, it was your 16th, wasn't it?"
"Yes," I replied. "But I suppose I could pass for 17 if I
worked at it."
"Very good. As for this gay man, you'll live together, sleep
in the same bed, and work together at the Argentine Embassy. With luck
you two will make friends with the locals. I want you to target their
people in M5, England's spy agency. Get to know them on a personal
basis. With your good looks, sampling the parties around town, it
shouldn't be too difficult. I'm giving your "husband" a list of the
sorts of information we're looking for. But you can keep your eyes and
ears open too, though your main job will be simply to be his lovely
young wife."
Within a week I and my new "husband" were in London. We toured
the city, settled in, got invited to parties. I was an instant smash.
Timothy, my "husband," was well-liked too, though the ladies admiring
him had no idea he was gay. Soon we were wanted for our English friends
more intimate parties.
Timothy and I disembarked from a cab in the center of London.
An evening mist had settled in, putting haloes around the all the
streetlamps. Wreathed in mist, we knocked at the door of a sedate
English townhouse. A carriage clattered by on the cobblestone street
behind us.
The door opened. A woman let us in. She was named Jenny and
she was the hostess for the evening's soiree. I noticed at once that
this might not be some mere political get-together. Jenny had a knowing
smile on her lips. She wore a tight, thin blouse. Her nipples stuck up
playfully, indenting it. It was the first time I'd been greeted at one
of these affairs by a woman wearing no bra. I'd met Jenny before, and
knew her to be a conservative MP's wife in her late-twenties. At least,
that was her reputation.
Jenny beckoned us to follow her. As we took up behind her I
saw that she wore elegant jeans that seemed impossibly snug. As if in
tacit admittance of this, the pants had been slit along the underside of
each of her butt cheeks. Her skin flashed at me as she walked, showing
just a little through each slit. Boots enclasped her feet and calves.
She looked as if she'd been out riding, and the saddle had been just a
little hard on her. But I knew the slits were made by a designer, not
by long hours on a horse.
A roomful of partiers awaited us. They stood about savoring
Chablis and cheese-laden crackers. All were dressed casually. Tim and
I were received warmly and handed drinks. As I turned to the woman
nearest me, to chat, I saw that she too had nipples which stood out,
covered only by the lightest of T-shirts. She wore clam-digger pants,
tight jeans that were purposely cut off at mid-calf to allow one to go
wading. The knees of the pants were artfully frayed. She wore sandals.
Tim and I circulated, each of the couples we spoke to admiring
us as we talked. The men all seemed to be wearing their pants with some
difficulty, for each to a man had a prominent bulge in his crotch.
Thinking I might find myself in their presence without their pants on, I
began sizing them up. Quite a few were breathtakingly handsome. And
not a few turned out to be members of M5, though they always referred to
it simply as "the bureau."
"Is everyone ready for our indoor barbeque?" Jenny asked at
length of the group. Heads nodded. "It is in celebration of our new
friends from the United States," Jenny said. Heads turned to
acknowledge an assistant ambassador and his wife, from America. "Now
ladies, remember, no tops allowed!" Jenny said. With that she pulled
off her blouse.
A plethora of wiggling titties came into view as each of the
women present drew off her shirt. I looked at Tim, he nodded. I shed
the vest I'd been wearing and unbuttoned my blouse. Slipping out of it,
I still had to unhook my bra, for I actually was wearing one.
"Let me!" a female cried, and helpfully undid the clasp. I
shrugged off my bra and for the first time on English soil exposed my
boobies to others. They gazed at me approvingly. Tim and I were led
into an adjacent room, where a servant was preparing hamburgers and hot
dogs on a hot grill. Baseball caps were passed out and we each put one
on. Mine read "New York Yankees" and I rebelliously put it on
backwards. Jenny smiled, handed me a hot dog. I bit off the end of it
with relish.
American tunes began playing in the background. We broke into
dancing, our tits swaying, eating as we danced. Mustard and ketchup
seemed to get squirted rather liberally, hitting a few of the girls on
their tits. Helpful men licked off the stuff.
The woman in the clam-digger pants came up to me with a
squeeze-bottle of mustard in her hand. She hovered with it over my
breasts.
"May I?" she asked. "My husband loves to watch." Her mate
grinned at me. I looked at Tim and he let me know with his eyes that it
would be O.K. Expected, in fact, given our secret reason for being
here. I smiled at the woman agreeably. Delicately she poised the
bottle over my right nipple. It stuck up stiffly, waiting. I flinched
as the tangy mustard squirted out, striking my nipple dead on. The
woman built a little mountain with the yellow condiment on each of my
teats. Then she bent and tongued each one thoroughly until it was
clean, gleaming with her saliva. My tits shivered wetly as she lifted
her face away from them. I could barely keep from immediately clapping
my hands over my tits and rubbing them furiously, so delicious had her
little tongue-bath been. She turned away from me then, offering her
mustard bottle to another girl. I faced Tim.
"Gosh, I can hardly stand still," I said. He grasped me by my
bare waist, bent and blew helpfully on each of my upstanding nipples.
"There, that should cool them," he said, his hot breath doing
nothing of the sort.
"Now, it is time for our debutante of the evening," Jenny
announced, shouting to get the group's attention. The crowd quieted.
The music abated. "Miss Bowman," Lord Bowman's daughter, has selected
our party for her formal coming out," Jenny continued.
"Wonder if Lord Bowman knows about this?" a young woman
whispered in my ear. I smiled at her. She was the wife of an M5
officer. Her name was Candi, and she was very pretty. Ketchup
decorated one of her breasts, left there for a moment by a male lover
while Jenny introduced our new guest.
"Please welcome Miss Melissa Bowman!" Jenny called out, and
there was a smattering of applause. 'Here Comes the Bride' was struck
up by the tape player.
A winsome girl, no more than 14, stepped into the room. She
had short, shoulder-length brown hair. Her face was nicely made up and
she had an innocent, child-like look on it, though she strove to look
sophisticated. She was narrow-shouldered, almost frail looking, with
breasts that were just popping from her chest, pretty and well-rounded,
but still with some growing to do. Her hips were slender. Around them
was tied a brightly colored sarong, which flowed to her knees. It was
in keeping with her general appearance, which was that of some Hawaiian
girl, though she was undeniably English, with fine white skin and large,
liquid blue eyes. She wore a poinsettia in her hair, with its naughty
phallus-like stem. Several necklaces of beads dangled down between her
sweetly jiggling breasts. She held a parasol in one hand, twirling it
gently, and she had a bracelet around one wrist, carved from teak.
Quietly our new guest walked out to us. Then she turned, and
many in the crowd drew in their breath in delight as they saw that her
sarong, tied in back, left her bottom utterly bare. It bulbed out,
white and inviting, with the sarong hanging down on either side of it,
little more than a glorified apron. Melissa's sleek long legs were
equally bare, supporting her pert bottom, and her back, above the knot
of the sarong, presented a lovely expanse of rib-indented skin, as if
she were some slim little bird about to be eaten.
Melissa gave her silken tushy a single wiggle, as if to taunt
us. Then she turned back toward us and, advancing once more, lifted the
front of her sarong. Casually she bared her pretty pussy. The group
drew open to receive her, and she sashayed between us, her pussy
displayed and her bottom wiggling sassily.
At last Jenny broke the girl's charade by stepping out and
blocking her path. "You flaunt your little body, but do you know what
we have in store for it?" Jenny asked. Melissa looked up at her,
chastened slightly, but still clinging to her sultry pretense.
"I'm sure I can handle it, whatever it is," she said saucily.
"Ah, such a temptress! Sit her on the grill and warm her
buns!" Jenny cried.
"No! No!" the girl gasped. She dropped her umbrella as two
lusty men lifted her up and carried her over to the grill. They plopped
her down as she screamed loudly. Then, silence. Melissa frowned at her
tormentors. The grill was barely warm. It had been dutifully cooled
down and scrubbed clean by the servants. Only the slightest hint of its
former heat remained. Laughter erupted from the partiers as Melissa
scooted herself off the grill and walked over and picked up her
parasol. When she lifted her face again it was stained with tears. But
she did not leave, as I thought she might. She brushed off the traces
of charcoal on her bottom and went up to the nearest man and unzipped
him. I admired her pluck. She was here to get fucked, and no amount of
hazing was going to stop her. Jenny too seemed to admire her mettle.
She walked up to the girl and stroked her back as Melissa fought apart
the bulging trousers of her chosen male and pulled out his organ. It
pulsed, and her fingers leapt over it like butterflies, admiring its
length and size. Melissa knelt, ran her tongue over the flange,
awkwardly tried to stuff the thing into her mouth.
"Shall we admit this spirited young thing into our ranks?"
Jenny asked aloud. There was a response of happy agreement.
"Come, dear," Jenny said, separating Melissa from her prize.
She drew the girl up by her hair, clasped her in her arms, kissed her
lightly on her forehead. The group gathered in around her then. They
pulled off her sarong, took away her parasol. All around me clothes
came off as people passed around a bottle of baby oil and, filling their
palms with the stuff, began rubbing it onto Melissa. Surprised, she
could only stand and tremble as her breasts were fondled, her bottom
petted, her legs parted and her pussy explored. Small protestations
escaped her lips now and then as a finger delved especially deep in her
ass or up her twat. Women as well as men went at her, their boobs
wobbling gaily as they stood around her, some of them still in jeans. I
myself still wore my pants as Tim urged me forward and I accepted a
handful of gleaming oil. My eyes met Melissa's and she saw my own
shyness as I patted her breasts. Some special awareness seemed to pass
between us then, and I knew we might well spend more than this moment
together, that I might bear witness to all her trials this evening. As
I smeared the oil over her nipples she admired my own breasts. Her arms
were held by others but she seemed to want to touch them for me. She
winced as a penis intruded into her anus suddenly, taking her eyes off
me.
"It is good," Jenny said, and broke up the crowd then, freeing
Melissa. But she was freed only so that Jenny might handcuff her. Then
Jenny drew Melissa to a corner of the room and ordered her to bend
over. Reluctantly the girl complied, and Jenny made her keep bending
until her palms lay flat upon the floor. Then she ordered Melissa to
spread her legs wide. Straining to remain bent over, Melissa complied,
shuffling her feet apart until her stance was very wide indeed. Her
bottom, lewdly outthrust, seemed to invite flagellation. A little fart
escaped her tushy and Melissa blushed fiercely.
"You will stay like that until I tell you to get up. Do you
understand?" Jenny asked. The poor girl nodded. Then Jenny, herself
still in jeans, reached up onto a shelf overhanging the girl and took
down a single twig of birch. It had been stripped of most of its buds
but a few remained. There was a ribbon tied around the thicker end,
which Jenny held. She swished the birch several times in the air.
"Do you know what this is for?" Jenny asked. Fearful now,
Melissa nodded. She was indeed young, a mere slip of a girl. Her
pendant breasts seemed like ripe tennis balls, with points on them.
"What is it for?"
"My bottom," Melissa half whispered, half husked in response.
"Why am I going to spank your bottom with it?" Jenny asked.
"I-I don't know..." Melissa's voice trailed off.
"You do know," Jenny admonished. "It is because you are only
14 and your parents don't even know you're out tonight. It's because
you're a virgin and you want to be deflowered. It's because you should
be home doing your schoolwork but instead you're here, presenting your
fanny to a group of adults, teasing the men with it and asking them to
fuck you. Isn't that right?" Melissa nodded, her body shimmering wetly
from the oil we'd slathered onto it.
"And look, you're covered with baby oil, from letting people
feel you all over. Your tits, your tummy, even your ass crack has oil
in it. Naughty! Naughty! Naughty!" Jenny said, and whisked her bottom
several times, sending Melissa howling, though she managed to remain
bent over.
"Have you ever been whipped before?" Jenny asked, as the first
red marks became visible on the girl's beautiful ass.
"O-Once," Melissa said, her mouth forming a pretty O.
"When?" Jenny demanded.
"In the basement. My girlfriend and me. We did it to each
other," Melissa said, tears coming to her eyes, more from the
humiliation of having to reveal her secret than from the marks of the
whip.
"Tch! Tch!" Jenny tutted, secretly pleased, I could tell, for
a small smile posted itself on her lips. "And did your friend do it
very hard?"
"N-No," Melissa replied, gazing out at nothing in particular,
her head cocked back halfway, half-turned to answer Jenny's question.
"Well, this will hurt, so brace yourself," Jenny ordered.
Melissa bit her lip.
SWISH! SWISH! SWISH! Jenny played the birch over her then,
lightly, but enough to make the girl feel it. Slim red lines marred her
otherwise lily-white bottom. Melissa bore it well, keeping her hands
upon the floor, her legs wide. The only hint of the pain she was
suffering came from the way she lifted first one foot, then the other,
not taking it off the floor but raising it up until she was standing on
her toes. She continued this tip-toe dance in her open-toed sandals as
Jenny, breasts swaying, flayed her. The woman spoke to the girl in
erotic tones then, telling her of all the pleasures of adulthood:
orgies, naked dancing, dungeons and enemas. Melissa, brave little girl
that she was, nodded as Jenny made her agree to each of these, even
though she clearly was hearing about many of them for the first time in
her life. Quite a few of her nods were none too sure, her eyes wide,
but there was little she could do except agree, for the birch could
always be applied much harder.
"Is your bottom getting sore?" Jenny asked. A vigorous nod
from Melissa. "It is nothing compared to how sore your pussy will be
when I turn my men loose on you. Do you think you'll be able to walk
tomorrow?" Melissa seemed uncertain. She had not considered the
implications of arousing a roomful of men. "You'll lay in bed all day
tomorrow, your bottom hurting, your legs stiff, your pussy ravaged.
What will your mommie and daddy think? What will you tell them when
they ask you to come downstairs and feed the cat? 'Oh please, mumsie, I
attended a sex party last night, my first, could you do it for me?'
Hmm? Is that what you want, you naughty girl?" Jenny gave Melissa
three harder cuts and it was all the girl could do to keep her hands on
the floor. She arched her back, bucked her bottom, flexed her hind
cheeks in an attempt to throw off the scorching heat. Jenny whistled at
the view the girl was giving of herself. "Such a pretty ass. Thank you
for letting us all admire it." Jenny gave Melissa a particularly juicy
cut and the girl, unable to bear it, leapt up, grabbing her bottom and
hooting like a little owl. Everyone broke into laughter.
The girl settled down at last and turned her tear-stained face
to Jenny. Hands still protectively on her ass, she regarded the woman
with a mixture of anger and awe. Her little titties wiggled
enchantingly. They had yet to taste mustard.
Two women came up behind me. Their hands settled on the waist
of my jeans. "Let's see your fanny," they whispered. I wore no belt.
Their fingers unbuttoned me. My jeans slithered down my legs, the women
pushing them down until they were pooled around my ankles. Their hands
helpfully cupping my bottom, I stepped daintily out of my pants. I was
as defenseless as Melissa now. A woman called to Jenny. She turned,
regarded me, still holding the birch.
A hush came over the crowd as I was urged forward by my two
female suitors. One of them was the woman in the clam-digger pants.
She had long since lost them. Would she squirt mustard up my ass now?
Did her husband like to watch that also?
Melissa seemed relieved that she was no longer the center of
attention. She made to move away. Jenny grabbed her arm. "Stay here,
you little imp. I am not through with you yet." Jenny asked the guests
to fetch the girl's sarong and parasol. She told Melissa to pick up her
flower, which had fallen out during the whipping. Scampering over to
where I stood now, in her place, the girl picked up her poinsettia and
restored it neatly over her right ear.
At Jenny's request Melissa's sarong was tied once more around
her waist. She was given her parasol back. Then Jenny handed her the
slim birch, telling me to bend over and grab my ankles.
"Whip her, you little hussy," Jenny hissed. Melissa seemed
delighted at the prospect of having the whip hand. She gave my ass a
calculating look and then laid in a biting cut right across both my
cheeks.
"OW!" I cried.
"Be quiet!" Jenny ordered me. Then, to Melissa: "Give it to
her hard. She is a big girl and can take it." Melissa nodded and gave
me another stinger. The birch would not last long if this kept up, I
knew. To my dismay, Jenny asked Tim for his belt. The birch broke
after two more blows and Jenny handed Melissa the supple leather belt
Tim had been wearing. It was made of fine-tooled Argentine leather. I
eyed it with a baleful stare, gazing back at it between my
regulation-width legs, my pose the same as Melissa's, save that my hands
were on my ankles. "Give it to her good, you junior minx, or you will
get two for every one that comes off too lightly," Jenny said. For the
first time in my life I felt like I was being complicitous in my own
whipping, for I was not tied down in any way. The woman formerly of the
clam-digger pants knelt beside me. She twirled a finger in my hair and
whispered words of encouragement in my ear.
SLAP! The belt hit, hard. I lurched forward, nearly toppling
over. SWOOP! SPLAT! Two more, each leaving a burning swath in its
wake. Melissa, the little bitch, strutted behind me, eyeing my ass
cooly, twirling her parasol. I gritted my teeth. This was not going to
be easy. I wanted to flee. The crowd moved in, gathered around me.
Tim stood over me. He undid his pants and took out his cock and began
stroking it.
Melissa gave me a good beating then, as merciless as any
mistress I'd ever had. Occasionally she rubbed her own bottom as a pang
of pain there reminded her of her own recent suffering. I bore her
swats as best I could, trying valiantly not to cry out. My country, my
adopted country, needed me. I would steal all England's secrets for
this.
At last Jenny ordered Melissa to stop. Reluctantly the girl
let the belt fall from her hand. "Stand up!" Jenny told me. I unfolded
myself, rising slowly. My hands clapped themselves to my bottom,
tenderly I rubbed it. You'd have thought I'd left my ass out in the sun
all day, it hurt so much. Wincing, I looked at Jenny. She was smiling,
her lips glossy, her makeup perfect, her hair a lovely cascade of
chestnut over her white shoulders. Her bosoms seemed to float upon her
chest, big and creamy, with cherry nipples. She put her hands to her
jeans, undoing the buttons.
"I want to be next," Jenny said matter-of-factly to me. "But I
want it very hard, so you'll have to tie me." Shocked, I watched as she
stepped out of her jeans. She looked at Melissa. "Take off that silly
sarong, girl! I want you stark naked when you whip me. Get rid of
those necklaces you're wearing too, and that bracelet." Melissa quickly
complied, fearing the harsh, lusty tone in Jenny's voice. "Yes, you may
keep the flower, and your pretty heels," Jenny told her. "As for that
parasol, I ought to jam it up your ass, but you can keep that too."
Melissa looked appropriately shocked at the thought of having her
umbrella stuck up her. She continued to clutch it as a kind of talisman
to ward off evil as the crowd closed around Jenny. She was gagged. A
black cloth was set between her pretty white teeth, leaving her lips
bare. She would not be able to change her mind now.
A mattress was laid out, and Jenny was made to kneel on it.
Her knees were fixed wide apart by a spreader bar that was placed
between them. Her hands were lifted above her and a kind of boom was
swung out from the wall. It was locked into place, sticking out
horizontally from the wall, like some giant cock. Jenny's arms were
lifted and bound to the bar. Melissa and I huddled together, unsure of
ourselves. I felt anger at her and yet we were in this together now,
both victims, and myself about to join her in mistress-hood. I was
given a belt of my own and we were told there would be many instruments
for us to try before we were finished.
"You may begin," a man said to us, his voice cold. Melissa and
I each drew back our belts. There was a mirror in front of Jenny and we
could see her face. She seemed complacent. We let go of the ends of
our belts and they went flying into her ass.
CRACK! CRACK! A double salute. Jenny thrust her hips
forward, smiling. Her big breasts juddered madly. She was the center
of attention now, and she loved it. All the men had their cocks out,
watching her.
The flogging lasted for several hours. Melissa and I were made
to use canes, birches, paddles, a quirt, a martinet, and other things
too numerous or wicked to remember. All of our fury was directed at her
bottom, except when we messed up and hit her back or thighs instead. We
sweated under the exertion. Her hiney became black-and-blue. At last
we were ordered to stop. Panting, we threw down our weapons. My
breasts hurt from jiggling around so much. Melissa rubbed her arm. She
had long since given up holding aloft her parasol, having to switch
hands now and then just to relieve her whip-hand.
Before us Jenny hung by her wrists, her body limp, her head
drooping down so that her chin rested on her chest, lifelessly. She'd
long since given up smiling, or even crying. She shuddered once, gave
up a sob without lifting her head, was silent. Around us the room was a
ruckus of intertwined bodies. Our partying friends had gotten down to
business some time ago, leaving us to Jenny, watching us only to make
sure we kept at her. Melissa and I turned to the man who had told us to
stop. He was busily fucking two females, oblivious to our own need. I
looked at the girl who had been my partner in dominance. She was
especially pretty, I thought, with her young teats sticking out, her
nipples painfully erect, her legs parted. She gazed back at me.
"I'm sorry about your bottom," Melissa said apologetically.
She whisked her hands back and forth along the sides of her creamy
flanks. She was terribly excited by the orgy all around her. I palmed
my cheeks. The burning had been replaced by a warm glow which suffused
them, made them feel almost wonderful. I thrust out my hips, my legs
apart, displaying my pussy.
"It's o.k. now," I said. "See?" I gave each of my ass cheeks
a playful slap. It felt good, too good. I knew I'd want another
spanking there soon. Melissa's eyes fell to my breasts. She gazed at
my rigid nipples.
"You have nice breasts," she said.
"Yours are nice too."
"Mine aren't big enough."
"They'll grow," I reassured her.
"I want to be a slave!" she said suddenly, and gripped her
bottom cheeks with her palms, jutting her hips toward me. There was a
desperate glint in her eyes of passion long repressed. "I read about
love slaves, in a book, and I want to be one."
I was surprised by such a kinky statement, coming from the
mouth a mere babe, a child. Did this girl really know what she was
asking?
"You must be careful," I replied. "There are men who hurt
girls they keep as slaves."
"I don't care. I just want to be one," she said resolutely.
A man approached us. He had overheard us. It could have been
anyone, but he was particularly handsome, about 40, with a
half-stiffened cock worn out from fucking, yet still beautiful, I
thought. How many girls had he poked his organ into? And here was
Melissa, yet to taste cock for the first time. The man put an arm
around her bare waist, then mine. "And what about you?" He asked me.
"Do you want to be a slave also?" My bottom quivered, tightened. It
felt so hot and delicious! Together we stared up at him, our eyes
dove's eyes, hoping not to be let free but to be captured.
"Yes," I said. "I want to be...tested." And I did.
Worked...like a mare. My teats sucked, milked. Like a cow. My pussy
and backside plowed.
"Then you must both come with me," the man replied. He told us
his name was Robert, but we were only ever to call him "Sir," or
"Master." He gathered us more closely to him, turning us, so that he
could lead us where he might. In her excitement Melissa wedged a hand
between her legs.
"Uh, uh. No," Master told her. "You will come only when I say
so. Your body is mine now. All mine." Melissa drew her hand away,
looked at him dumbly, needfully, pressing her thighs together,
squirming. Bare-hipped we walked with him, his arms holding us there,
casually. He stroked our bellies with his fingers. He told us we would
be fucked until they swelled. We didn't care. We would be proud to
bear his children if he wanted us to, so crazy with desire were we.
We stopped at a door. He insisted we remove everything;
earrings, heels, even Melissa's poinsettia. We obeyed, handing him our
things, which he laid on top of a nearby chest-of-drawers. Then he
opened the door and let us inside. We stepped into utter darkness. He
flicked on a light.
There was nothing in the room save a broad, low wooden platform
with a mattress on it and furs piled atop it. Hanging down from the
ceiling, at the end of a stiff pole, was a single ring of steel. If a
girl stood on the makeshift-bed and lifted her arms above her head she
just might reach it. Piled in one corner of the room were chains, made
from small, rectangular links. Beside them was an assortment of locks.
Our master went and fetched two of each. He returned to us and made
Melissa hold out her hands. He bound them together with a chain and
locked them.
"Both of you, get up on the bed, remain standing," Master
ordered. We both clambered up, found it to be stiffer to stand on than
a normal bed, though it still made us wobble as we tried to walk on it.
Master told Melissa to reach up and grasp the ring. She obeyed,
standing on tip-toe, just barely grasping it. He told me to stand close
to her and put my hands on her waist. "Closer, closer," he urged, until
my nipples poked against hers. Because she was on tip-toe our tits
touched, even though she was shorter than me. Master found a piece of
wood and wedged it underneath Melissa's heels to keep her standing on
her toes. Then he took his other chain and wrapped it once around our
bare waists, locking it behind Melissa's back. Our hot breath mingled.
Spontaneously Melissa stuck out her tongue, then opened her mouth. I
offered my own tongue to her and we duelled, our tongues licking at each
other in the open air. They touched, sensuously. Our bare bottoms,
almost unmarked now, the stripes faded from our previous punishment,
loomed perversely large, mine especially. It was the giving way of the
bed beneath our feet which made our bottoms seem bigger. We kissed.
Master surveyed our nicely parted legs, our asses, tightening,
relaxing, as we sucked on each other's tongues. I stroked Melissa's
svelte torso, feeling her ribs rippling beneath my fingers, smelling the
vaseline which still coated her body. When our mouths finally parted we
gazed at each other and made our sprouting nipples duel, brushing them
together and using them as little spears to try to puncture each other's
breasts.
"You two must be the loveliest creatures on earth," Master told
us, getting up onto the bed with us. He palmed our bottoms and then
gave each of us a good hard smack. We squealed, our nether cheeks
tingling anew. We longed for whatever punishments he wished to give us,
and he knew it. We kissed more sensuously than ever, our bodies
pressing closer, writhing. We rubbed our prickly bushes together.
Master, admiring us, took another chain and used it to secure
Melissa's wrists to the overhanging ring, which she was having trouble
holding on to. Then he fetched more goodies from the items piled by the
chains and locks. Items I'd tried my best not to look at as we first
entered. Dildos, condoms, oils, salves. Tubing that looked like it
could be used to give an enema. From the pile Master took a
double-pronged dildo, and a bottle of vaseline. We gasped when we saw
his plan.
"I am spent," he said. "But I will not have a virgin in my
presence any longer." He eyes Melissa. She stared back meekly, looking
at him, at the dildo. Was I to take her cherry? Me? A girl popping a
girl?
Master stepped back up onto the bed. He had us jut back our
bottoms, forcing our pussies apart momentarily. He put the double-dildo
between us, and told me to help fit it into Melissa's pussy, as well as
my own. I got my end in alright, but Melissa was a tight fit.
Delicately I parted her cunt lips, like opening a flower. I eased the
bulbous nose within her as, looking down, she shivered apprehensively.
I felt the head of the fake penis butt up against her hymen. I did not
force it. Not yet. I pushed my end of the prick farther up inside me,
bowing my knees to try to get the large organ up my tight passage as far
as possible. When I was confident it could go no further I settled my
hands back on Melissa's hips and looked in her eyes.
"Ready?" I asked her, shifting my hips slightly to get a better
purchase on the bed.
"Yeth," she lisped, in a little girl's voice. I kissed the tip
of her nose, her lips. I gritted my teeth. Inside myself I held the
dildo as tightly as I could. Then I thrust forward.
"Umph!" Melissa grunted in a small voice. The hymen had held.
I shoved my hips at her again. "Ooh!" she mouthed.
"Buck! Buck your hips!" I told her. She moved them slightly,
back and forth. I grabbed handfuls of her bottom flesh and yanked her
toward me, jutting forward my cunt.
"OooaAck!" Melissa bleated suddenly, and I knew I'd broken
through. I rammed my hips back and forth, male-like, forcing her to
buck in and out also by yanking and pushing on her ass cheeks. Melissa
gurgled incoherently, trying her best to follow my lead, working her
hips against mine. Within myself I felt the dildo driving upward, even
as I knew it must be doing inside her also. Master watched it all,
amused, delighted. He picked up a pony whip and began flaying my bottom
to spur me on. I loved the sweet kiss of the whip. I wanted to stick
my ass out for him and let him whip me all over. He struck the backs of
my thighs and the backs of Melissa's thighs also. He could not get at
her bottom because of my hands.
I ground my mouth to Melissa's even as my hips worked against
hers. The dildo felt wonderful, filling me and opening me even as it
opened Melissa for the very first time. Soon she achieved her first
orgasm, panting, moaning, snuffling. I trilled out my own pleasure soon
after, lifting my face and swooning at the ceiling. I fell against her
at last, breathing hard, savoring the feel of her slick skin against
mine. We were partners...in crime. It was unlawful to deflower her,
yet I had done it. A crime of passion.
Melissa snuggled against me. Struggling to find her voice, she
gazed blissfully at master.
"Thank you, master," she said.
30
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