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From: Andrew Roller <roller39@IDT.NET>
Subject: Nov 6 Punished for Pleasure part 4 of 4 (NND)
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_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
PUNISHED FOR PLEASURE
_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
Chapter Four
I sought the bed’s pillow with my face. Oh, how horrid I
felt! I was a whipped, pissed-upon whore. I rolled on my tummy, my
hands fastened behind me, my collar still clutching at my throat. I
felt like the slithering snake in Paradise, except I’d been caught and
punished for tempting Eve. And, with my cunt lips shiveringly wet
between my legs, moist with the juice of my own excitement, I was Eve
too.
A girl can be a bitch both when she’s not had any fun and when
she’s had too much of it. Despite my torments, I’d had more orgasms in
the last hour than I’d had in my entire life. So I was the latter
bitch, spoilt, and fulfilled at the same time. Now I felt sorry for
myself. My face reached the bed’s pillow and I pressed my cheeks into
it. I wanted to suffocate myself.
My hero rescued me. It was a tawdry rescue, to be sure, and
with a price to pay. Jeff tore my face from the pillow, found me
gasping, and promptly kissed me. I sighed. He kissed again, more
vigorously, and drove his tongue into my mouth.
“I love you,” he breathed. I felt his unshaven face against my
soft, 13-year-old cheeks. His tongue dueled with mine inside my mouth.
He pushed mine back. I gagged. He pushed deeper. I accepted, at last,
and he seemed to fuck me with his tongue, driving its long, thick length
deep inside my mouth. I was his. He could take me as he wished,
despite all he’d made me suffer on this awful day.
Finding me receptive, he pulled his face away. He replaced it
with his hips. I found myself staring at his penis. He proffered it to
me. The big gnarly head of it bumped my nose, dripped upon it, then
sought lower, and pushed against my lips. I opened my mouth. He placed
his dick upon my tongue. I managed to close my lips a little and gave
him a soft, moist place to spend his seed. I sucked. I urged him to
fill my mouth with himself, to impregnate me if he could, filling my
belly with his sperm.
Bridget interrupted.
“Jim,” she said, in her quiet, alluring way. She tapped him on
his shoulder with a black-gloved finger. He turned, slightly, though
not drawing his penis from my mouth. I sucked more vigorously. I
wanted him to lose the sperm-weighing contest. He would give me his all
and suffer as the loser, last among the men, having no sperm at all.
All of his seed would be swimming in my belly. I would watch him
punished then.
“Jim, you have an appointment at the stocks,” Bridget said.
Her voice spoke as if in invitation, though stocks, I knew from studying
the Puritans in school, are used on criminals. My mouth gaped in
wonder. Was I to see him punished now? Oh, joy! Gazing past his hips,
I saw the other men, waiting, as if to be punished themselves.
Bridget pulled Jim away from me. I let him go. I snapped
once, trying to recapture his penis with my lips, as a dog snaps at
flying things, then let him pass away.
Together Bridget and Jim walked over to where the other men
were waiting. I saw wood beyond them, as if a long bench was waiting to
recieve their bottoms.
It was, in fact, the stocks that I saw, not a bench. This was
a very wicked sort of stocks, as I was momentarily to find out. It did
not bind the neck, or suffer an intrusion of the hands, locking them in
place. Instead, its purpose was to lock and hold that one part of the
male anatomy that a man values above all else. It was a penis-stocks.
At once I forgot all my suffering. I was alive as a cat, eager
to see a dog thwacked for treeing me. I leapt from the bed, my boobies
bouncing freely. I made my way over to where the men were standing. I
looked down at what awaited them. It was a low bench, but with three
holes in it. Three holes cut in the wood to recieve three penises.
In fact, the “bench” was slightly more sophisticated than
that. How to describe it? Picture, first, a bench, like a park bench,
except without the back of the seat that you are accustomed to lean
against when you sit down. So, then, a bench without a back to it.
Next, think of this: a “bench,” but without a seat. Think of just a
frame. A frame where one might place a seat, but, as yet, there is no
seat, just a frame.
On the “bench” I saw, which was really a stockade for the male
penis, there was a stout frame. Indeed, the men, kneeling down, would
be placing all their weight upon the frame, and it had to be sturdy to
support them. These were big men, with bulging muscles. They would lie
heavy upon this “bench”.
Where the seat of the bench was supposed to be, picture this:
a thin piece of wood. It was split down the middle, as if someone had
sliced the bench along its middle with a saw. You can imagine the
reason for that. The men were to kneel. Each one was to insert his
penis into the “seat” of the “bench”. Then the front of the bench would
be pressed toward the back of the bench. This would cause each man’s
penis to become trapped inside the “seat” of the bench or, rather, in
the hole cut for his cock.
I shivered with excitement. To see the men forced to kneel,
and stuff themselves through such wicked little holes! They would be
like knockwurst sausages, trapped and held so they can be cut to a more
responsible size.
Carefully Bridget collared each of the men. She buckled a
thick, black collar, decorated with studs, around each man’s neck. They
waited, submissive, but stiff and hard-muscled in their submission, too
excited by her sexiness to refuse her wishes. Bridget, with her jet
black hair, her long stockings and her gloves, with her neck bound by a
scarf, looked absolutely fabulous. Who would not want to submit to the
discipline of such a wickedly feminine mistress? Often Bridget paused,
and brushed back her long hair with her hand. She smiled at the men.
She told them how perfect and huge they were, touching each man’s cock,
weighing his big balls upon her palm. It was a showering of affection
that she gave each man, even as she confined him for his punishment.
Erika helped. She cuffed Jim’s hands behind his back. Together they
teased the men, whispered to them, complimented their sexual organs,
until at last each man trembled with desire to do whatever was wished of
him, no matter how awful. Or stupid.
“Please kneel, gentlemen. I must confine each of you by your
penis,” Bridget said in her soft, whispery voice. Each man knelt. He
was helped by the females’ soft hands to insert himself into the hole in
the “seat” of the “bench”.
I gazed in wonder. I glanced at Larissa. Still wearing her
panties, her hands bound, like mine, behind her back, she was
entranced. Amber, being not cuffed, scampered around the men, hoping to
help in their confinement. But Sherry intervened, held her back. She
was too little to help. These were big men and if they were to be made
so thoroughly submissive, it had to be done with womanly teasing, not
with the mischievious, inciteful teasing of a little girl. Amber would
have induced them to chase her around the room, not to kneel.
At last each man was on his knees, bent over the bench, and
trapped by his cock in the seat of the bench. Bridget had been
thoughtful of their comfort, however, despite trapping each man by his
cock. For, under each man’s knees, she had placed a soft towel, so he
would not have to feel the hardness of the stone floor.
Nonetheless now there was to be applied to each man a certain
degree of pain. Bridget made each man spread his legs. Erika knelt
behind each man’s bottom and placed a “spreader bar” between his
ankles. Thus spread, his legs apart, each man couldn’t help but show
off the heavy sac of his balls.
Bridget walked over to a low table. She picked up a wooden
paddle. It was the size of a ping pong paddle. But it was thicker, and
with holes drilled in it, to allow it to move faster through the air.
“Now, gentlemen, I’m going to swat each of you,” Bridget
explained to the men. “Not on your asses, however.” She giggled. “You
three might be asses, especially for letting me trap you by your dicks.
But it isn’t your asses I’m going to punish. No, I want you to remember
this night. So, to punish you in a memorable way, I’m going to confine
my swats to your balls.”
“What?!” Walter yelled.
“Erika, this is silly,” Nick said.
“If you damage my balls I’ll cut you into pieces,” Jeff warned
Bridget. “With a whip.”
Bridget answered Jeff’s remark by putting her paddle between
his thighs. She caught his balls on the end of her paddle and lifted
them up.
“Ah, darling,” she said. “Damage your balls? Such big, heavy
balls as this? Why, I’m a girl. I shouldn’t wish to damage such a
masculine treasure as these. You’re to be tormented, that’s all. And
milked, too. That’s why they call this the “milking bench”. Erika,
would you please play milk maid? Slip under the bench and pull upon the
men’s penises. Take a cup for each. I shall need to weigh his
donation, to see which man wins the sperm contest.
I remembered then the golden scales she’d showed us at the
evening’s beginning. The time had cum for each man to give of himself,
and be weighed, and to see if he had more sperm than his fellows.
“Give all you have,” Bridget told the men. She picked up a
cone-shaped object from the table near the bench. “I shall have to
shove this solid enema up the ass of the man who gives the least sperm.
Don’t hold back! The loser shall be made a fag, forced to accept a plug
up his ass. Then he shall shortly have to do number two, also, while
everyone laughs at how foolish he looks, squatting and having diarrhea.
“You are a wicked woman,” Jim breathed. He feared, I think,
losing, for he’d spermed me earlier in the evening. I felt a sudden
wish to see him win. Though it would have been a delight to see him
sodomized, if it were just he and I, we were not alone together. Alone,
we might have played all kinds of games, including ones where he was
made foolish and submissive. But here I wished him declared the best of
all men.
“Come on, Jim!” I called out to him. “Fill the cup!”
Erika slipped underneath the bench. She had three cups with
her. Each one was made of fine crystal. How curious this dungeon was,
with its jewelled cat, its place settings for tea, its wicked devices,
and its crystal cups and golden scale. I felt a shiver run through me.
A place like this turned wickedness to pleasure, and made pleasure
wicked. My bottom felt sore. It was coated with the men’s dry pee.
Yet I felt excited, alive. I wished I had a cock so I might be trapped
alongside the men, forced to receive the paddle, forced to spend. Being
a girl, I had to content myself with rubbing my thighs, and feeling my
pussy wetten.
Amber, her hands free, made use of her fingers. She watched
the men with amorous eyes. She stuck a finger in her snatch and diddled
her slit.
“Amber!” Bridget scolded. She waved her paddle at the girl.
“Don’t play with yourself. It’s naughty.”
“I can’t help it!” Amber confessed. “The men are to be
milked! Oh, don’t hit their balls too hard.”
Erika, I saw, lying under the bench, placed a finger in her own
snatch. At the same time, she slid a cup under Walter’s penis. She
played with her slit. Then, moistening, she lifted her honey-coated
fingers and curled them wetly around Walter’s dick. In her case, at
least, she was using her moisture as lubrication. Amber was just
masturbating.
“SWAT!” The paddle made a loud crack. The men flinched. But
the paddle had connected with Amber’s bottom, not with the men.
“Oh, Boo! Hoo!” Amber wailed. She danced, red-bottomed, upon
her toes. She reminded me of Tinker Bell as she jumped about, her
golden hair flying.
“Amber, don’t diddle with your slit,” Bridget warned the girl.
“Simply watch, and behave.”
“Shall I put her in cuffs?” Sherry asked Bridget.
“Oh, I don’t want to wear handcuffs again!” Amber cried. She
darted away. She ran to a big machine used to draw and quarter people,
from the looks of it, and hid her small body behind it. I was reminded
of a kitty hiding from evil boys.
I glanced at Larissa. She was as excited as I by the spectacle
of the men. She moaned. She rubbed her thighs together, fruitlessly,
as I was doing, wishing she could make herself cum. I envied her
panties. She was the last of us to remain modest. They looked pretty
and white upon her hips. I was bare-bushed, showing my private to all
who cared to glance upon it. I felt like an animal. My tits hung free,
my legs worked uselessly against themselves. My cunny wetted itself but
had nothing to receive within it.
Larissa saw me scissoring my thighs together and smiled. It
was a smile of one consoling a friend. We were best friends. How silly
we looked, what trouble had we gotten ourselves into! We were
bare-breasted, trapped in an underground dungeon with men we hardly
knew, and with women who used us in wicked ways. She was clad in the
smallest of panties and I was bare-hipped. Oh, girlfriend! If only
we’d listened to our mothers. And yet, and yet...
“SLAP!” My gaze was torn away from Larissa. The men! Bridget
had slapped Walter between his legs, right on his balls.
“Ouch!” Walter yelled. Erika, underneath the bench, pulled on
his cock.
“Milk him,” Amber, watching from behind the machine used to
draw and quarter people, urged. I saw her finger working furtively in
her slit.
“Cum... cum in the cup,” Erika told Walter. “Now is the time
to give all you have, to win the sperm-weighing contest.” Erika
moaned. She drew up her knees. She was as passion-infused as I, gazing
at the men in such a compromised pose. She drew her hand from Walter’s
cock and excitedly frigged herself. Then, moaning again, unfilled and
wishing to cum, but not yet able to, she returned her moistened fingers
to Walter’s cock and pulled hard upon it.
Bridget glanced at Amber, hiding behind the big machine where
any of us, on a whim, might be drawn and quartered. She frowned.
“If you’re going to play with yourself, you may as well milk
one of the men,” Bridget said to the 12-year-old girl. “Get under the
milking bench.”
“Oh, noooo, they are too big,” Amber replied. She was ever
wilful. Yet even as she whined that she couldn’t, she stepped out from
behind the big machine where she’d been hiding. With a finger rubbing
her slit, her other finger poised at her mouth, like a curious child,
she advanced toward the milking bench. Bridget glared at her. Erika
desisted pulling on Walter, so that a race might be run, between his
cock and that of another man’s.
Amber dropped to her knees. Looking very much like a small
cat, she gazed at the cocks poking down through the milking bench. She
sniffed, wiggling her nose. Then she crawled forward to the bench, lay
down, and slipped underneath. A mechanic about to go to work on engines
and pistons, I thought. She chose Jim’s cock, arguably the biggest of
the lot.
I felt a surge of jealousy in me. I could just see Jim, my
favorite, falling for the little 12-year-old brat. Little Amber, with
her too tight panties and her fetching bra (both long gone now, but
still undeniably cute, in memory). She would win Jim over with her
winsome ways and her childish demeanor. They would go off into a
romantic sunset together, where’d they play Chutes and Ladders between
wild bouts of balling.
I walked forward to the bench. Amber’s long legs were sticking
out from underneath it. I bent over, dropped to my knees. I looked
back at Bridget and pleadingly raised up my wrists.
“Please, let me milk too,” I begged.
Sherry looked at Bridget. The raven-haired woman considered,
then nodded.
“Undo her,” Bridget told Sherry. “We shall have a three man
race then.”
“Thanks!” I heard Amber, under the bench, say to Erika. I
guessed the 12-year-old had been given a cup to hold Jim’s sperm.
Sherry walked forward, her big bosoms bouncing as she stepped,
and bent down behind me. I heard a click. I wriggled my hands and felt
the cuffs come apart. At last! I was a free woman again. I pulled my
hands in front of me. I rubbed my wrists.
“Get under and milk,” Sherry reminded me.
“Yes, ma’am,” I answered. I slipped under the bench.
“I’m doing Jim,” Amber said to me.
“Then that means you can’t do Nick,” I answered. I pretended
to sound glad of having Nick, though I was secretly quite jealous that
she’d gotten hold of Jim.
“Oh, I want to milk too!” I heard my friend Larissa cry.
Bridget laughed. “We are all out of penises, my dear,” she
answered. “Anyway there must be a prize. You still retain your
panties, and look most virginal, especially with your cuffs on. You
must be the prize, dear. Now be quiet or you’ll have a red bottom to go
with your pretty white panties.”
“Oh, me!” Larissa said. But she said no more, for none of us
doubted Bridget’s delight in flagellation.
“Now, men,” I heard Bridget intone. “The girls are going to do
everything they can to get you to spend. Suck, yank, whatever. You
must hold on as long as possible. The first to spill will have his ass
paddled. The one who shoots the least amount of sperm will have himself
sodomised, with an enema cone.” Bridget laughed. “And, of course, in
the meantime, don’t think you can just relax and enjoy all the attention
you’re going to get. I’ll be spurring your balls on, by giving them
gentle, urging whacks with my wooden paddle.”
“Oook! He dwipped on my nose!” Amber shouted. I glanced at
her. What was she doing? Didn’t she know anything?
“You must get the cup under him!” I told her. “Put the cup
Erika gave you under Jim’s penis.” I reached around Amber’s head and
took a cup from Erika. We were like three female gas station
attendants, all ready to pump.
“My cup rolled away,” Amber said. She scooted out from under
the bench. She went scurrying across the floor to retrieve her cup. I
shifted to my left. I would have Jim’s penis!
“No, no, Barbi,” I heard Bridget warn. “I know you like Jim.
Stay with Nick. You’d give Jim an easy ride, so he can shoot last.
Stay with Nick and pump him hard. This must be a fair fight between the
men. We’ll have no favors, save those you bestow, most lustily, with
your hands and lips.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said. I felt crestfallen. Yet there was
nothing I could do. Erika wouldn’t want me favoring Jim, at the expense
of Nick. Little Amber scooted back under the bench and stuck her tongue
out at me.
“Jim’s mine!” she told me. I blushed. I felt angry. I wanted
to pinch her but feared she’d just pinch back, and then we’d both be in
trouble with Bridget.
“Are you ready, girls?” Bridget called. “Make sure your cups
are in position. Touch your cunnies as you need to, for lubrication.”
Erika glanced at Amber, and at myself. “We’re ready, Bridget,”
she called.
“Very good. Begin,” Bridget replied.
“OHHHHH!” Amber moaned, for at once she diddled in her slit,
wishing to masturbate herself at least as much as she wished to frig
Jim.
I yanked hard on Nick’s cock and heard him yelp.
“Cum,” I breathed. I blew on Nick’s penis and then fastened my
lips to it and sucked it. I held my cup ready, to receive him when he
spurted.
Erika licked Walter as if he were a lollipop.
Like milkmaids at a festival, the three of us worked the men’s
dicks. I pinched Nick. I swabbed the whole length of his big cock with
my tongue. I blew my hot breath upon him, hoping to make him shoot.
Amber clasped Jim with her honeyed fingers and rubbed him. Up
and down, up and down her little fingers moved, as if trying to pull a
big worm down through the hole cut for Jim’s cock in the bench.
Erika lifted her long blonde hair and rubbed it softly across
Walter’s penis.
“Cum,” I heard Erika urge. She liked Nick best, I think, and
hoped to make Walter lose. In the same way I, liking Jim best, hoped to
make Nick lose. And little Amber, not caring for any man in particular,
simply enjoyed the challenge of giving a man’s cock a vigorous workout.
“THWACK!” I heard. Bridget had landed her paddle upon one of
the men’s balls. I heard him groan as his testicles felt the shock of
wood upon flesh.
“THWACK!” Another man received a blow to his balls.
“THWACK!” I felt Nick flinch in my hands and heard him moan.
Bridget had given him a taste of her paddle.
“Ohhh, such a harsh smack!” I heard Sherry exclaim.
Spontaneously, responding to the pained groans of the men, she dropped
to her knees behind Jim. She knelt and put her soft lips to his balls.
At the same time, so that he wasn’t primed to shoot before the rest, she
reached out, spreading her arms, and clasped in her soft hands the balls
of Walter and Nick. I felt Nick’s cock jerk in my hands as he was
forced to endure the soft ministrations of Sherry’s fingers upon his
nuts. Sherry must have felt him jerk too, for she asked, in a rather
mocking tone of voice, “Mmmmm, yes, does that make your big balls feel
better?”
“WHACK!” I heard, and Jim flinched again, but I found he’d not
been struck, for it was Sherry who let out a moan.
“Get your fat ass out of the way,” Bridget scolded the
big-breasted blonde. “You can attend to them later, after they’ve each
shot their load.”
“Ohhh, I was just trying to be helpful!” Sherry said. I heard
her voice break into a sob. She rose, retreated. Bridget ruled us
all. She was not to be crossed. Somewhere beyond I heard Larissa give
a plaintive moan. It was half desperate, as if she wished to cum, and
half frightened, too, fearing Bridget and what would happen to her when
she was awarded as a prize to the winning man. For my own part, sucking
cock, I was too lost in desire to care for her fate, or my own. I
played in my slit and, finding my fingers moist, applied them to Nick’s
cock. We were three bell-hipped maidens, Erika and Amber and I, all
with wettened cunts, eager to please ourselves and, naughtily, to make
the men shoot into our special crystal cups.
Above me I heard Nick groan. Then Jim, then Nick again, and
finally Walter. The men strove to restrain themselves. I could tell,
though, as Nick’s penis quavered hotly over my face, that he was rapidly
losing his self control. I glanced at Jim’s cock, poised over Amber’s
face. Yes, he looked unbearably swollen and stiff, stiffer even than
when I first slid under the bench. He looked to be on the brink of
cumming. I prayed he might hang on. I wished him to win.
Somewhere I heard a man scream. Then, seconds later, Erika let
out a whoop of joy. I glanced to one side and saw white sperm spurt
from Walter’s cock. He’d lost! My heart sang. Jim would not have to
suffer a sharp, cone-shaped enema shoved up his butt. I yanked hard on
Nick’s member. Come on, Nick. Shoot your load into my face, so that
Jim, my love, can triumph over all the men.
“YEEEEEK!” Amber shrieked.
I turned my head. To my horror, I saw that Jim was spurting.
Worse, Amber hadn’t got her cup under him. He showered her face with
sperm. It spewed across her nose, her eyes, her cheeks. Foolishly the
girl tried catching it on her lips. Still, the cup remained lying
between her breasts, quite empty, sperm spouting everywhere but where
she was supposed to be catching it.
“The cup!” I cried to Amber. “Catch him in your cup!”
“Ooook! I can’t! There’s too much of him,” Amber answered.
Her voice sounded burbled, as one trying to speak under water. Indeed,
she looked like she was taking a shower, there was so much cum spurting
suddenly from Jim’s dick. It lathered her face and fell into sticky
clumps into her soft blonde hair.
“Oh, my! You’ll make him lose!” I wailed. I grabbed her cup
from between her small 12-year-old tits and rammed it up under Jim’s
penis.
“Whew! Thanks! I was drowding,” Amber said. I glared at her.
“You were only drowning because you didn’t have your cup
ready,” I told her.
“It’s not my fault. His penis is too big. I need to handle a
penis of someone my own age, if I’m to control it properly,” Amber
said. “He’s a growed man, with a growed man’s penis. I’m too little to
handle it properly.”
I was about to speak a reply, scolding her, when suddenly a
shower of sperm erupted from the penis over my face.
“Nick!” I cried. I was aghast. I’d been busy with Amber’s
cup. I hadn’t even been touching him! Perhaps our words, perhaps
Amber’s saucy comments, had inspired him to cum.
I grabbed for my cup. Amber saw my predicament and laughed. I
managed to get my cup under Nick’s cock. I held it there as he
discharged.
“You didn’t do any better than me,” Amber said.
“Shut up,” I answered.
Wet-fingered, with dewy slits, Erika and Amber and I emerged
from beneath the milking bench. We gave our cups to Bridget. She
scolded Amber. The 12-year-old’s face was drenched in sperm, yet she
had caught none of Jim’s cum in her cup. Amber repeated her excuse that
she was too little to handle a “growed man’s” penis.
I gave what I had to Bridget, blushing. Nick had caught me off
guard.
“Well, I can see this won’t be much of a contest,” Bridget
said, looking at our cups. “Thanks to Erika’s expert handling, it looks
as if Walter has won. He’s given the most sperm... the most that I can
measure, anyway,” she said. She glanced at Amber. The sperm-soaked
girl flushed and gazed down over her breasts at her toes. Cum from
Jim’s cock ran from her cheeks down her neck to her chest, then on to
her bosoms. It dripped off the nippled tips of her mammaries to speckle
her feet.
Bridget had three gold-colored pans waiting next to her scale.
Carefully she poured what she could from each cup into a pan. Then, in
turn, she weighed each pan on her scale.
“Yep, Walter’s the winner in the content department,” Bridget
said. “But he came first. So in addition to getting Larissa for his
prize, he gets this cone-shaped enema up his butt.”
“No way,” Walter protested. He made to rise from his kneeling
position over the bench. With his cock deflated, he was no longer
trapped.
“Down, boy!” Bridget shouted. Her high-pitched commaned was
accompanied by a swift crack of the paddle across Walter’s behind.
“Yeeeehooo!” Walter shouted. Amber, gazing on him, clutched
her own bottom, perhaps in memory of her own contact with the paddle.
“Sherry, help me lube his bottom,” Bridget told the frail
blonde with the big curls.
“Yes, ma’am,” Sherry answered. She fetched a tube of
lubrication and advanced on the big man. She knelt down behind him.
She patted the cheeks of his ass with her soft palm. “Don’t worry, it
won’t hurt *too* much,” Sherry said. I couldn’t tell if her soft voice
had a note of mockery in it. I shivered. Amber kept her hands clapped
to her bottom, lest someone get the same idea for her.
Being enemized placed Walter in a special category. He could
no longer walk around the dungeon with bare-bottomed impunity. A solid
enema dissolves in the rectum and makes one shit intermittantly for
hours. It was for this reason that, once the enema had been shoved up
his behind, Walter was diapered. Amber couldn’t stop giggling at seeing
the man so attired. Bridget used cloth diapers on him, with traditional
pins. She powdered his hairy ass with baby powder before pinning the
diapers on him. Walter groused, disliking the merriment his predicament
gave us. But in the end he took his punishment like a soldier and,
though he looked quite ridiculous, I found I admired his sportsmanship.
Another man, big as he was, might have simply refused. But Walter wore
his diapers like a trooper, and when the men were all uncuffed, he
didn’t try to disrobe himself. My only regret, looking upon him, was
that when he became hard again, his dick bulged in concealment beneath
the diaper cloth, rather than standing up freely as Nick and Jim’s
penises did.
Larissa, cuffed and collared and retaining still her white
panties, was presented to Walter. He grinned, kissed her, and told her
she would be “balled to Heaven and back again” when his cock
resuscitated itself. She blushed, modestly, for which I was most proud
of her, given how much she’d been dying to finger herself during the
men’s milking. Walter put a hand to her pussy and rubbed her, gently,
to keep her wet and ready. In the event, when he did reawaken, he held
off fucking her, for he would soon be making poop in his diapers and
didn’t want to spoil their fuck together by shitting on her.
Jim and myself and Bridget and Amber and the rest of us
retreated to the soothing waters of the jacuzzi for a well-deserved
soak. Walter sat outside, on a wooden bench, watching us. Larissa,
still in her white panties, sat beside him. He stroked her long hair.
She sat submissive, her head bowed, her hands still fastened behind her
back. Yet I perceived that she was looking mainly at his crotch, and
watching as it began to bulge.
“Go ahead and poop in your diapers, when you feel the need,”
Bridget told Walter. “Sherry or I will change you.”
“Fine. Whatever,” Walter answered. “I still think it was a
stupid idea to ram an enema up my ass.”
“Nonsense. You look very cute in them,” Bridget said.
“Yeah. All you need is a pacifier,” Amber giggled.
“Amber, don’t tease,” Bridget told the 12-year-old. “You look
barely big enough to be out of diapers yourself.”
“What?!” Amber cried.
I put my arm around her small, frail shoulders. I pressed my
body close to hers, in the jacuzzi. The water was warm. I liked the
bubbles. They lifted my breasts and kept the tips of my nipples perky.
“Shhhh. Be good,” I said to Amber. She turned her face to
me. I expected her to scold me, but instead she kissed my cheek.
“I like you,” Amber said. I think the jaccuzzi was making her
amorous, for I felt her hand slip between my thighs and rub my snatch.
“Amber!” I cried. I jumped. I had not expected her to molest
me.
“You do mine and I’ll do yours,” Amber offered. She rubbed me
more deeply.
“Ohhhh, it is--” I glanced at Bridget.
“It is alright,” Bridget replied. She moved and, I thought,
passed her own hand across the belly of Sherry, sitting beside her.
Sherry, her eyes closed, started, then seemed to widen her legs beneath
the bubbling water.
“Mmmmm,” Sherry said. She let her long lashes flutter closed
again.
“Let us play,” Bridget smiled at me. “And don’t forget, you
two, there are still bottom-exercises for you to perform, before we
leave.”
“Oh I don’t want things rammed up my ass,” Amber said.
“Me neither,” I answered. I felt her tummy. I dipped lower,
found her snatch. I played in her tight private.
“Yeeeech!” Amber gritted. It was a sound of pleasure, however,
and she opened her legs more completely, to receive me.
“Say, you have quite a big one,” Nick said to Jim.
“Yours is no slouch either,” Jim answered. I felt my eyes
widen. Still diddling Amber, I glanced over my shoulder. My God! Were
Jim and Nick feeling each others’ cocks, under the water?
“Yes, let us relax and enjoy,” Bridget said. She looked
through lidded eyes at Erika. “You, my dear, are one out, in our new
little game.”
“Not if I suck your tits,” Erika answered. She moved close to
the woman. She grasped at the woman’s bosoms where they floated on the
water, and bent to nuzzle them.
“Come and play with us!” Jim told Erika.
“No,” Erika answered, placing her lips to Bridget’s tits. “You
men play with each other for a change. It is good to see you men
peaceful, for once, and molesting each other. Explore your cocks
together and let us girls play with each other.”
And that is just what happened. We girls diddled and kissed
each other while the men felt each other. It was pleasant, I thought,
my soft sighs joining those of the others as I was brought to a climax.
My own fingers, digging deep in Amber’s tight snatch, brought her off.
Bridget and Erika and Sherry played with each other. And the men,
frigging each other with their calloused palms, shot new loads of cum
into the hot, bubbling water. Walter, meanwhile, put Larissa over his
lap. He entertained us by giving her a spanking. She cried, we
sighed. It was most unusual but quite fulfilling, except perhaps for
Larissa who was left with a red bottom. Walter did, however, rub her
pussy with his free hand. She exploded in a series of loud orgasms even
as his palm flayed her bare ass.
When all was done, when everyone had shivered and spent,
Bridget asked Walter if he’d pooped in his diapers yet.
“Yeah. While I was spanking her,” Walter answered.
“ICK! I can smell him,” Amber said, holding her nose.
“Be polite, Amber,” Bridget told the girl. “Else I’ll make you
change his diapers.”
“NOOOO!” Amber cried. She leapt from the hot tub and scurried
off into the dungeon. Later, as we still sat soaking, enjoying the
bubbles, Bridget spied Amber heading for the dungeon’s exit.
“Don’t leave, dear, without permission,” Bridget warned the
girl. “There’s much in here you’ve not been put upon, and the men would
love nothing more than a girl who legitimately needs to be tortured.”
“Oh, me!” Amber cried. She cast a worried glance back at us,
hesistated by the dungeon’s exit, and then ran and threw herself upon
the big bed. Bridget smiled at the men. They smiled at her.
“Pity she didn’t run off,” Nick said. I cast a worried glance
at him. Did he really mean it? Would he really have liked to see her
tortured? For real? I couldn’t tell, and looked at the empty place
beside me where Amber had been sitting. I wavered between going to the
bed and joining her, and staying in the jacuzzi. I liked Amber.
Sometimes I regarded her as nothing but a childish brat, but at the
moment I liked her. We’d had fun together. It had been naughty fun,
diddling each others’ slits, but it had been permitted, down here in the
dungeon, and we’d enjoyed each other to the full. I could still feel
her kisses on my cheeks. She was sweet. I suspected she’d peed in the
jaccuzzi, while she sat beside me, but I liked her nonetheless.
30
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