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From: Andrew Roller <roller39@IDT.NET>
Subject: Nov 27 Enslaved to Eros part 2 of 3 (NND)
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_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
ENSLAVED TO EROS
_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
Chapter Two
Under our bottoms, around our waists, well up our backs and
down our legs, we were soaked. We lay in a peed-in bed, like children
just awoken from a dream that lasts too long.
“Oh, such a warm, cozy bed, and now it’s been wet by your big
penis,” Katie scolded Nick. She reached between his legs. I could see
her hand moving under the covers. She grasped his rod and jerked her
hand up and down its wet length.
“Unh,” Nick groaned. He didn’t try to stop Katie, this time.
“You let out some pee yourself,” he replied.
“Yes, but I’m just little,” Katie said. “It’s this big thing
of yours that let out the *most* pee!” She kept yanking her small fist
up and down on his rod. Nick groaned again. “You may as well shoot out
the rest, while you’re at it, since the bed’s all wet!” Katie told him.
I rolled over onto her.
“No,” I breathed, impulsively. I reached for her hand. I
grasped at her small fingers around Nick’s stemming organ. His
reproductive organ. She knew nothing about the value of it, flush with
its first stiffness of the evening. How special that is, a man’s first
erection, when he’s most anxious, most urgent in his lusts. It should
be teased. Challenged, if possible. Later in the evening his edge will
be lessened, though he might be just as hard. Then, he is a
professional. A professional fucker.
I giggled, to myself. I wanted Nick’s first erection of the
evening to last as long as possible, that I might drive him to agony
with it, taking him to the brink again and again.
“No,” I told Katie, again. I tried to pry her fingers off
Nick’s cock. She was equally adamant that she must keep possession of
it, and make him shoot under the covers. Were we not wet enough
already? She had said she didn’t want to get sticky. So why did the
girl show such eagerness to make him spend?
“Mmmm! I want to suck him!” Katie declared. She squirmed
under me. I kept her flat on her back. I kissed her lips and felt her
slim, bell-shaped hips squirm under me. Her tummy pressed its
smoothness to mine. We were as sisters, but wanting differing things
from the man beside us. I, teased by him in the cave, wished to tease
him back now; now that he lay flat on his back beside me. I wished to
dominate a little, instead of just receiving it.
“Oh, God! Quit fighting over my dick, girls!” Nick groaned.
Katie and I wriggled beside him, both of us nude, the bells round our
necks ringing, our chained feet clashing with clanging links.
Jane threw back the covers. I felt them fly off me. My rump
wiggled its exposed flesh, like a fish tossed upon a dock. Nude, wet.
SLAP! Jane’s hand connected with my bare seat. I howled. I
jumped like fish do, atop little Katie, as if she were a dock and I were
trying, fruitlessly, to fling myself from the dock back to the sea. I
felt the impress of her hand, though it had bounced off me, like a hand
springing off a big rubber ball. It stung. I pressed my free hand
between my hips and Katie’s and played in her slit.
“Oh, she spanked me!” I said with a sobbing sigh to Katie.
“I know. I could hear it!” Katie answered, matter-of-factly.
It had been a big, flesh-splatting smack, full and hard Though
delivered with a slim, manicured female hand, it hurt nonetheless. A
mommie’s hand can hurt just as much as a daddie’s, if she hits hard
enough. Jane was not in a mood to be merciful. But what had I done,
except what she’d told me to?
Jane’s breasts swung freely over my back. She hovered over my
slim figure like a lover, yet like a mother too, compelled to discipline
her small child.
SPLATT!! Jane’s hand connected with my seat again. It thudded
hard against my elastic hemispheres, driving them inward, compressing
them, then springing away to leave them raw and red and humming with
pain.
“Ohh-woh!” I sobbed. Jane’s spanks were delivered with the
absolute maximum amount of force she could muster. My sock-clad feet,
so warmly encased by Jane earlier in the evening, kicked in the air.
I rubbed Katie harder. I still was hoping to get her fingers
off Nick’s cock, by distracting her with mine in her slit. At the same
time, I pulled at the small fist she’d locked around Nick’s cock.
“Let go!” I cried, my voice tear-sobbing. Jane, above me,
seemed, I sensed, puzzled by this, for no one was holding me.
SPLAT! SPLAT! Her hand struck twice more, rapidly, hitting
each of my bouncy red bottomcheeks in turn. I let out a howl. Still,
despite the burning handprints across my bottom, I struggled on with
Katie, trying to save Nick’s seed, trying to diddle her cunny to orgasm.
“God, such an adorable bottom,” I heard Jane say above me. She
kissed my back. Then, implacably, she slammed another hind splitting
spank down onto my tushy.
“Owooooo!” I hollared. I clapped both my hands to my bottom.
My head lurched up. My tummy pressed sweatily to Katie’s. My hips
ground against hers. Our muffs teased upon each other. Our bosoms
bounced.
“Oh! Oh! Oh!” Katie shouted. I pressed hard against her.
Her small fist jerked impulsively on Nick’s cock. She let out a moany
sigh, wishing, I think, for the return of my fingers to her slit. She
tried to wedge her free hand between our hips but could not, I was
pressing so hard against her. Her bare feet kicked up on either side of
me. The bells on our necks rang loudly.
With a sudden gush, Nick’s sperm erupted from his cock. It
jetted up toward the ceiling. Then, arcing back down, it hit the head
of his stiff, straight penis, even as more of his cum jetted up through
his pee hole.
“Ohhh! It’s like Old Faithful!” Katie, wide-eyed, exclaimed,
gazing upon his manhood.
“Damn! You two bitches jacked me off!” Nick swore. He blamed
me as much as Katie, even though both my hands now were pressed hard to
my naked ass.
“They must be punished for it,” Jane, above me, said
matter-of-factly.
“Nooooo!” Katie cried. Yet she continued to rub her free hand
hard against my bare hips, trying to insinuate her fingers between us so
she could frig herself.
“After our bath,” Jane promised. “Come, girls. Get up.”
“Oh, I--” Katie said urgently. Jane pulled me off her. At
once her hands, both of them, one coated with Nick’s seed, flew to her
cunny. She arched up her hips and pressed her flat, indrawn belly
upward, like a smooth piece of lumber being angled up for carpentry
work. Her bottom cheeks, chubby and round, tensed underneath her. She
flexed her thighs up, lifting her hips, digging at the same time with
her small fingers into her cunt. I worried she might become pregnant.
She was obviously virgin; Nick’s seed dripped between her labia lips.
She smeared it liberally upon her sex as she diddled herself.
“Mmmmmm!” Katie cried. She stuck her tongue between her lips,
like the Frosted Flakes tiger does. She licked her lips as she fingered
her cunt with quick, urgent strokes. Her legs fell more widely apart,
baring her core to us, as if to invite a fucking. “Whooo! Whooo!
Whooo!” she uttered with childish frankness.
I couldn’t help myself. Despite my bare, stinging ass, despite
Jane’s ominous promise of punishment, I clapped both my hands over my
sex. Even as I worried that they were needed elsewhere, to protect and
assauge my bottom, I frigged myself. I worked my fingers into my slit
and felt my bubbies, stiff nippled, pressed tightly between my sinful
arms. I squeezed my tits, as if to offer milk to the air. My fingers
sought my spot.
I was on my knees. Katie was on her back. Jane hovered next
to me, and I felt, with my senses, her hand. It didn’t touch me, but,
rather, it picked up her long, leathery riding crop off the bed. How
curious it was, I thought, for a riding crop, used on horses, to be
brought to bed.
I didn’t have time to contemplate on the crop’s presence for
long. I heard a swish. I shrieked. The crop struck my bottom like a
hot branding iron being applied to one’s skin. It left a bright,
blazing line of pain across my seat. I yelled to the rafters. I
squeezed my ass cheeks. It did no good, only emphasizing the sting.
Another whistle. Another stroke. I fell face forward onto the
bed, beside Katie. Yet my hips, as I fell forward, lofted high, lifting
up my bottom. My hands stayed resolutely on my muffin, searching within
it for orgasmic bliss. My hiney presented its bare, squriming cheeks to
Jane.
SWIIIIICK! The leather crop delivered another sharp sting to
my tush. I jammed my cheeks together. My face sought Katie’s. I
kissed her.
“Save me, Katie!” I said in an urgent scream.
“Ohhhh! I can’t! I’m too little!” Katie answered. But the
real reason, for she was only a year younger than me, was that she was
too busy diddling herself. She issued an orgasmic cry a moment later.
Her fingers worked busily in her snatch. My own, though I should have
put them to my ass, to save it from further swats, jammed deep in my
cunny. I found bliss at the end of my fingertips, in my slit. I burst
into a mind-splitting orgasm.
SWIIIICK! Went Jane’s crop again, and it seemed, somehow, to
top my orgasm off, though I didn’t like the feel of her crop at all as
it sliced a new line across my bare bottom. I fell onto my side. I
kissed Katie avidly. My tongue extended, found hers. We kissed. We
moaned to each other. Tears rolled down my cheeks, half of pain, half
of bliss. Hers were all happy tears.
“Ah, let me feel the warmth of your bottom,” I heard Rob say.
I felt strong hands come to my hips. They gripped me. They lifted me.
I thought perhaps he might palm me with his hand. Instead, he pressed
loins to me. His thick, hard penis rubbed its way across my ass. It
felt like a hot, bloated thing, rather like a branding iron, except much
thicker, and not striking me, but burning its warmth into me by its
continual, loving contact. He pressed it between the cheeks of my ass.
He drew back a little. I felt a sprinking of oil. Soft words from
Jane. A grunt of approval from Rob. And then, quite suddenly, quite
deliberately, he stuck his thing hard against my anus.
“No! Not that way!” I shriekd. I didn’t wish to receive him
there. I rememberd how hard and thoroughly opened I’d felt, when he’d
attempted me there, earlier. Let him put himself in me the natural
way. My back door was too small for him.
Nick took my cry of alarm as a temptation to try harder. A
girl’s resistance, alas, invites, rather than deters. With manly
determination he lifted my hips higher. My tongue sought Katie’s still,
though I felt a knot of doom in my belly. He was coming in. His way.
Whether I liked it or not.
“Oooook!” I shouted. I felt his penis burrow with a swift,
hard stroke into my anus. His cockhead, sprinkled with oil, punctured
me. It went up where things normally only come out. Jane laughed at my
discomfort. Katie selfishly kept frigging herself, letting me tongue
her. “Please don’t dooooo me that way,” I babbled. Rob ignored me. He
thrust again. I felt his shaft plunge deeper into my fanny. I tried to
squeeze him out. He took it for approval, gave me another, more deeply
penetrating stroke.
“Eeeeek!” I cried.
“She feels it right up to her navel,” Jane chuckled.
“God, she’s tight upon me,” Rob breathed.
“You are her first,” Jane said. I wasn’t, quite, but close
enough, and she didn’t know of my naughtiness with Nick in the cave.
“Ohhhh, I hope nobody fucks *my* bottom!” Katie declared. She
continued rubbing herself.
“How about your cunt?” Nick asked her.
“Not that either,” Katie said. “I’ve never had anything up my
cunt, and I don’t ever want anything up me there, either.”
“Then that’s exactly what you’ll have,” Nick said. His penis,
so recently milked, sprang to attention at the thought of relieving
Katie of her virginity.
“Noooo!” Katie said. Nick rolled atop her and the scream she
was uttering seemed to drown under the weight of his big man’s body. He
shoved my face aside. He kissed her hard, upon the lips, as if to give
her a token, at least, of his love before taking her. Then he scissored
her legs more widely apart and put his thing to her cunt. She
shrieked. Nick’s hips jerked forward. Katie shrieked louder. He
announced to us, like a bridegroom upon a wedding night, doing it
publicly, that he was in. The prize was taken. He began to shaft her.
His lips glued themselves to hers, and her cries, so ear-splitting a
moment before were drowned by his close-pressed mouth.
We were undone. Myself from the rear, Katie between her virgin
legs. The men humped us. We suffered. I found the penetration hard,
but endured somehow. She screamed to be let go but was not let go until
the deed was complete. She orgasmed again; her first with a man in
her. Rob’s fingers sought my spot and brought me off again, his dick
plowing my behind as if it were a cunt. Jane laughed. She whacked both
men’s fannies with her crop. But lightly; so as not to save either
myself or Katie from the men’s wicked lusts.
“Oh, my bottom’s sore,” I confessed, when I had at last
regained sole use of my body. Katie lay beside me, issuing soft,
self-pitying sobs. I felt my own cheeks stained with tears. I licked
my lips. They were salty. My ass felt like it had been basted in an
oven, then skewered with a hot poker. Yet Jane was jovial, passing us
drinks and insisting we sip them.
“The alchohol in them will lessen the pain,” Jane told us.
“Oh, then why didn’t you give them to us foist?!” Katie
blurted. She sobbed and clutched at the drink Jane passed her with both
hands. She downed it in quick gulps. There was blood between her
thighs, where Nick had pierced her viriginity.
“Because I wanted you both to feel whatever was done to you,”
Jane said in a pleasant, seductive voice, as if we’d just been to a
fair, and were being served drinks after a hot day on the rides. She
brushed my hair out of my eyes. She ran her fingers along the length of
my tresses. “Now you may both let the liquor put you to sleep, if you
wish. You can bathe later.”
“Ohhh, I have to pee again,” Katie said. The sound of both
men, in the bathroom adjoining the bedroom, was loud; they were both
urinating at the same time into the toilet.
“Don’t pee on the seat,” Nick told Rob.
“Don’t piss on my carpet,” Rob answered. I imagined them both
jostling each other, two big men vying for the same small toilet bowl.
“Just pee in the bed, dear. It’s wet already,” Jane told
Katie.
“Okay, I will then,” Katie said. “I don’t want to go in
*there*,” she said, of the bathroom.
“Oh, don’t piss in the bed again!” I cried. Yet almost at once
I felt a sickeningly warm liquid spread itself under my bottom. She was
peeing! Just like a little girl, the littlest sort, too lazy to get up
and go use the potty.
“Well, then,” I said in retaliation, sipping my own drink. “If
you’re going to just pee in our bed, I will too!”
“No, you’re bigger’n me. You need to go use the toilet,” Katie
said, even as the last of her pee spread underneath my bare seat.
“Fat chance,” I said. I paused, drew in my breath (it is ever
difficult to do that which you’ve been trained not to.) Then, nerving
myself against my better instincts, I let loose my pee through my
cuntlips.
“OOOOOH! She’s wetting the bed!” Katie cried. She leapt up,
spilling her drink on me. With her long, brown tresses flying, she
crawled quickly over me, dragging her chain across my peeing muff. Jane
tried to restrain her. But she was young, full of energy, like a kitten
released from the house after a too-long night cooped up indoors.
Katie dropped off the side of the bed, her bell ringing. “I’m
going to sleep on the floor,” Katie declared. I knew there was a furry
throw rug beside the bed and I guessed she was settling down upon it.
“And if I need to pee I’ll pee right here on the floor too,” Katie
said.
I lifted myself up onto my elbows. The last of my pee
continued to jet from between the lips of my cunt as I sought her
reflection in a mirror. I found it. She was on all fours, her bottom
high, her face pressed to the rug. She was pretending to sleep, though
she was waving her bottom around in the air like a chubby white flag of
surrender.
“Katie! Get back in bed! I don’t want you peeing on the rug,”
Jane scolded the girl.
“I will if I want to. I can feel a little bit coming right
now,” Katie said. And, peering hard, I saw a trickle of pee escape from
within her cunt. It speckled the rug.
“Katie!” Jane cried. “You are very naughty!”
Jane swished her riding crop down across Katie’s seat. The
girl, apparently quite surprised, jerked her head up as the crop
connected. She let out a loud howl. Her hands flew back behind her and
grabbed her bottom.
“Ohhhhh, that HOITS!” Katie screeched.
“Wait ‘til you get fucked up your behind,” I called out to
her. I felt merriment at seeing her tushy smacked. My own still burned
and I reached behind myself with one of my hands and rubbed it. It felt
hot. Yet it was beginning to acquire a warm, lovely glow, as if it were
meant for a girl’s bottom to be used that way, hard-smacked. But my
anal hole still itched and burned from Rob’s penetration.
“Boo! Hoo! Hoo!” Katie sobbed. She buried her face in the
rub but kept her ass wiggling high in the air. Her hands rubbed it.
Jane contemplated the girl’s seat, seemed to consider whacking her small
fingers with the crop, but then flopped back into the bed instead. She
rolled over and kissed me.
“She is sweet, don’t you think?” Jane asked me. She kissed my
cheek. It was strange, feeling her beside me, for I’d just wet the bed
again, yet our hair was soft and dry, hers long and dark brown, mine
blonde.
“Mmmm, you have not yet cum,” I said. I placed a hand between
her thighs. I was angry at her for swatting me, for letting her husband
have his will with me, and yet I felt a sisterly affection for her. I
aspired to be like her, when I was 19.
“Oook! I’ll pee on the rug if I want to,” Katie announced. I
tried to see her again, but Jane’s face was too close to mine. Instead
I simply relaxed, let her kiss me. She urged my lips apart and fed in
my mouth with her tongue. I reciprocated by diddling her slit with my
fingers.
“May I pee on your hand?” Jane asked me. I giggled.
“If you wish,” I answered. She sighed. A moment later I felt
a wet sprinkling upon my fingers.
“Ohhh, you are doing it!” I said.
“You said I could,” Jane answered.
“Am I mistress now?” I asked.
“No,” Jane said. “Definitely not. “There is so much more I
must teach you first. You must be trained in all the ways of erotic
enslavement.”
“Ohhhh,” I sighed. Jane put a hand to my cunny and rubbed me.
“Will you train me, if I wish it?” I asked.
“Yes,” Jane said. “But there is only so much a girl can wish
for. You must be pushed beyond that. There is a certain force that
must be used. Do you--” she gasped, for I was busily fingering her.
“Do you understand?”
“I think so,” I gasped. Her words enticed me, even as they
sent chills of fright down my spine.
“You must be led beyond what you think you can take, what you
think you can face, or you will never know your true capabilities,” Jane
breathed hotly to me. Her voice was somewhat muffled by her tongue
trying to feed in me even as she spoke.
“Unnnh, yes,” I answered, my mouth wide to accpet her
intrusions. Her fingers made my hips buck.
“See? I’m peeing right now! Here comes a little *more* pee!”
Katie declared from below.
“Damn girl! What are you doing peeing on my carpet? Do you
think you’re a dog?” Rob roared. I heard his footsteps as he came out
of the bathroom. Why had the men tarried together so long in there? I
did not know.
“Yeeeek! I didn’t mean to!” Katie cried.
“God damn, you wet all over my carpet!” Rob yelled. I heard
Katie scramble to her feet. Her leg irons clanked. Too late, she
realized escaping by foot, a favorite of little girls who do naughty
things, was entirely denied her.
“Here, we shall train this young bitch how to be house broken,”
Rob said, apparently speaking to Nick. I wished to see, but Jane
tongued me more fiercely. I heard Katie squeal; I imagined both of them
picking her up. Her legs would kick, her fists would beat fruitlessly
upon their nude bodies. They would be stiff, from exploring the length
of each other’s cocks in the bathroom. I wondered whether Nick was
bigger, or Rob. It would be a close match, if they were ever measured.
I would do it, one day, measuring both of them with little inch-by-inch
licks of my tongue.
“Noooo! I can’t take BOTH of you!” Katie said in urgent
alarm. I heard growls from the men, heavy breathing. And then, as
Katie screamed in the distance, I came again, on Jane’s inquisitive
hand, and she came against mine.
“Do not be alarmed by your desires,” Jane said to me in the
bath. We were in a large bathroom, white-tiled, immaculate. It was up
the hall from the bedroom where we’d peed. It was not the bathroom the
men had relieved themselves in. Towels of various colors were piled
around the edges of a big, sunken tub. Bubbles bloomed. Katie sailed a
rubber duck in a corner of the tub; oblivious to myself and Jane. She
had been introspective since being taken at both ends by Rob and Nick;
Rob enjoying sloppy seconds in her newly opened cunt, Nick showing her
how to suck. “You desire willpower,” Jane told me. She washed my back,
my bottom. I flinched under her caresses. She used just her hands, no
washcloth. It would have been too rough, she said, on my crop-scorched
bottom. I felt her slim fingers grip my bottomcheeks. She squeezed
them as if they were halved tomatoes, ripe and round. She yanked them
apart, suddenly. I cried out. Katie looked up.
“Oh, don’t,” I said. “That hurt.”
“Of course it did, dear,” Jane said. She let my bottomcheeks
ease back together, still held by her hands, cupped, felt, held. I
stiffened, then relented and let my weight sink fully upon her firm
palms. My bottom in her hands. My body. My self.
“Waht’s willprowler?” Katie asked from her corner refuge in the
tub.
“Stop playing with that duck and scrub yourself,” Jane replied.
“I want to know what willprowler is,” Katie said. Jane
frowned, ignored her.
“Yes, that is what you are seeking,” Jane whispered to me. She
licked my ear. I shivered. My bosoms quavered on my chest. They were
round, like globes. Their tips rose as she licked me. “A will that is
powerful enough to use you, to break your inhibitions and carry you
forward to all the pangs and pleasures life has to offer,” Jane told
me. “Ah, you are so special. Your bottom is so perfectly round, so
tight. A temptation, even to me, and I’m a girl, just like you. You
bring out lusts in me that I didn’t know I had,” Jane breathed.
I felt a tightness in my belly. Her words aroused me and yet,
as always, they sent icy shoots of fear up my spine. I pressed my hands
to my thighs. I let them drift upward. I gazed at my pubis, over my
breasts, and saw bits of soap bubbles clinging within the tight curls.
I flicked at them with fingertips.
“After your bath, we must continue your training,” Jane told
me. “But not here. Here things are too easy. And there are
distractions,” she whispered to me, with a quick glance past me, at
Katie. “We must take an hour, perhaps two, and go elsewhere. We’ll
come back here afterward. There is a woman I should like you to
visit.” She felt me stiffen again, lifting my bottom up off her hands.
She stroked the cheeks of my ass lightly with her fingertips. She made
whorls in the soap on my ass with her fingertips. It stung, a little,
when she touched me, due to her hand slaps in the bed, and her crop
slashes. But although her hand had been applied fiercely, her crop had
been more measured, less harsh. I felt a warmth in my derriere where
I’d been struck. It suffused my whole seat and made me feel desired.
Desirable.
“What-- what is the purpose of our going?” I asked. My voice
was high and quavery, like Katie’s. It was my nervousness that made it
so. I felt frightened in Jane’s hands. Yet, curiously, I also felt
loved.
“The woman is a former school mistress,” Jane said. “She
wished to be a model, but she is Russian, and she did not have the
opportunity, under communism. Instead she was forced to be a teacher
much of her life. Then, after the Berlin wall came down, she moved to
England. There she was principal of an all girls’ school, for a time.
Now she’s retired from that. She was quite attractive, in her youth.
Almost as pretty as you. Now she’s older, of course, though still very
elegant. She still wishes she could be a model. But she’s overaged
now.” Jane sighed. “She respects great beauty like you have. Once in
a while she takes a girl under her wing, and photographs her, and sends
her pictures out to modelling agencies. Would you like that, hmmm?”
Jane patted my belly. I said nothing. I felt quiet, contemplative. I
put a finger to my lips. “This woman, she understands the female form
in a very precise and thorough way,” Jane told me. “She regrets she is
not herself still young, like you and I are. She will not, of course,
ever admit that. But her jealousy can be used to our advantage, you
see, for having respect for our figures, and our faces, and being female
herself, she can understand us in ways no man ever could. That’s
necessary, if we are to become fully developed females. I have visited
her, in the past, so I can speak from experience,” Jane told me.
“What-- What was it like?” I asked. My voice quavered.
“It was an ordeal,” Jane said frankly. “For you will be going
there to feel the power of her will. She has an indomitable will. She
is no-nonsense, although you’ll be encouraged to deserve what she must
give you.”
“What must she give me?” I asked, my voice sounding more
worried than ever. Yet my titties stood up like two fine points upon
the graceful mounds of my bubbies.
“She must give you an application of her will. So you can feel
it,” Jane said. “It will make you stronger in your own will to feel
hers. And of course it can only be given corporally, of course. We
will only be staying an hour or two. We do not have time for the slow
building of will that can take place from one mind to another. That
takes months, or years. This will be short and quick. She’ll give you
something to remember her by.”
I was certain I’d pull my bottom out of Jane’s hands and
refuse, but instead, I heard my voice ask, “Will it hurt?”
“Of course it will hurt, darling,” Jane laughed. “It must make
an impression.”
“Oh, I don’t wish to be pierced or....” branded, I was going to
say, but I couldn’t think of the word.
“You are much too young for that,” Jane agreed. “This will not
be permanent, except in the mind. Do you agree to go?”
“Will I cum?” I asked naughtily. I still remembered how her
hand on my ass made me frig myself with greater enthusiasm.
“You are a bad girl,” Jane said to me. She knew what I was
asking. “Your hair must be perfect, of course, and there must be just a
touch of makeup, perhaps a little too much for a girl of 13, to make you
more deserving,” Jane said. “She does not like to see young girls
putting on airs, and makeup. She is from the old school, and blames a
girl who gets herself into various doings with men. She does not blame
the men. Nor should she, in my opinion,” Jane added. “I’ll do your
makeup. Not too thick, but just enough to show her your true opinion of
yourself. And of course, like I said, your hair must be elegant and
perfect, yet girlish, as a girl might wear at school.”
“I can fix my hair,” I said. After all, I was only 13. If I
didn’t know how to arrange a schoolgirl’s hair, what did I know?
“Mmmm, I will do it,” Jane said. “Just relax. Your time will
come in an hour or so. Until then, try to relax.” She picked up a
washcloth and rubbed it across my bottom. I flinched. She seemed not
to notice. “Let me finish your bath,” she said. “Then we’ll do your
makeup and hair.”
We drove in Jane’s car. Rain splattered the windshield. I
wanted to sit up front with her but she insisted I travel in the back
seat. I was a child again, being taken to lessons at school. It was
just she and I, and the rain. Katie was left behind, to the good graces
of Nick and Rob. When we left, they were playing Clue. Katie was
having trouble. I sensed Rob was cheating, to let her do better in a
game she was failing at. He didn’t want her to throw a tantrum if she
lost. They played in the living room, on the floor. The men were
clothed very casually, in jeans. No shirts. Katie was naked,
preferring to be just as she was, which, since there were no clothes
that fit her in the house, was just as well. Her leg irons lay nearby.
Perhaps they would lock her into them again, perhaps not. I paused to
kiss Rob goodbye as we left. He told me he’d be expecting me in a few
hours. Katie said I was going to see a prowler. I didn’t like leaving
Rob but I sensed he wished me to go. I even guessed he might have been
the one who suggested the trip to Jane. So it was he ordering me,
really, to go to the school mistress, I think, and that thought thrilled
me, that he would think of me that intensely, and I wondered if he might
not be following us, in the dark, to see what happened to me. Nick
could be left to babysit Katie. I felt a rivalry between herself, and
me. Yet I sensed I was winning it. Despite being taken away from him.
Nick was just a friend. Perhaps a good friend, but I felt
nothing special toward him, save that natural admiration a girl has a
for a man, and vice versa. I didn’t feel the dark, terrible lust for
him that I felt for Rob. So I sat in the back seat of Jane’s car,
obeying what I thought might be Rob’s directive, and wondering, glancing
back now and then. Wondering if he might be following us.
We arrived at a modest home, in a less expensive neighborhood.
It was set back from the street. There was a park across from it. The
nearest homes were set a conservative distance away from it. It was as
if they were afraid to be closer.
We got out. Jane opened an umbrella and, with no thought for
herself, placed it carefully over my head.
“A mother must take care that her daughter arrives looking
respectable,” Jane told me. We walked briskly up the front walk to the
home. Jane wore a black hat, a black dress, with elegant heels. They
clicked loudly across the wet sidewalk. I wore a long mink coat. It
was, in my new role as her daughter, as the daughter of Rob, supposed to
be mine. But I was just their guest, really, not their daughter, so it
was actually Jane’s. I wore high heels.
We reached the door. Jane knocked on it for me. We waited a
moment in the rain. The house looked dark. Then I saw a light come on
in the front window. A moment later the door opened.
“Hello. Ah, Jane. Your neice is here,” the woman who answered
the door said.
“Yes,” Jane replied. Now my role had shifted, slightly. I was
Jane’s neice, not her daughter. All was fluid. I didn’t matter. What
mattered was that I was doing Rob’s wishes, and he wished me here. For
an hour. It would be quick, short. And...
“Come in, come in,” the woman said. She looked to be in her
late 40’s. “Welcome to my private school,” the woman said.
“I just need a baby sitter for an hour or so, while I go out,”
Jane said.
“Of course,” the woman replied. She closed the door behind
us. The room we were in was a living room. It looked pleasant,
respectable. There was a fire going in one corner.
“She’s all dressed for bed,” Jane said. “She’s already had her
bath.”
“Fine,” the woman answered. She looked at me, piercingly.
Then her eyes softend. “May I please take your coat?” she asked. But
it was not really a question. More like an order.
“Yes, ma’am,” I answered. I thought I heard a car pull up
along the curb, where we’d parked.
The woman took my coat. Underneath it I wore only a sheer
camisole. It was short, reaching only down to my belly button. It had
no cups. Instead, graceful holes had been cut out of it for my bosoms,
letting them be seen. My titties bulged through my cami, their tips
quivering and stiff. My cami was decorated with lace underneath the
undersides of my bosoms. Above, where there was only the bare outline
of a bra, I shivered as my nude bosoms jutted into the coolness of the
room. It felt as if I was all bosom, boldly going forth with them to
meet my fate. Below, the too-short shirt of my cami, attached to a bra
with no cups, made my bare pussy feel like the center of the earth.
Hot, hungry, wishing to consume everthing inside it. I was, it seemed,
either outthrusting tits or inseeking pussy. Both at once, really, and
the women’s eyes darted between my breasts and my cunny with knowing,
feminine eyes. Men would have been obsessed with the state of their
cocks. But not two satisfied, elegantly dressed women. They understood
my body and my desires in ways men did not. Even in ways I did not, for
I was only 13.
I blushed, standing before them. With a sudden regretful
modesty I pulled on the hem of my cami. But it fell no lower than my
navel. There was no making it longer. Not now. I was here, I had been
presented. The woman greeting us had taken account of me now.
In back, my entire back was bare, from my neck all the way down
to my heels. Only where the bra/halter part of my cami closed, in the
back, was there any covering. My too-short cami was cut in such a way
that it swept off the sides of my back, not covering it at all. Only my
belly was covered by it, in front, and then only down to my navel.
Bare hipped, without panties, showing my bush, my thighs, my
calves, I tried to act discreet. I glanced at a statue of a man
carrying a bucket on his shoulder, that stood on a table that held a
lamp. I touched it, lightly, stroking the breadth of his shoulders.
There was a vase of flowers nearby and I bent and sniffed it. A big
broad-leaved plant stood in a pot on the floor. I touched its leaves,
stroked them, and marvelled at how sharp its leaves became at their
tips.
The women gazed at me as I glanced at the various things, as if
waiting for a kitten to accustom itself to a new house. But even a cat
would have been covered with fur. I was nude, save for the nothing cami
hanging over my belly. Even my hair was pulled out of the way, so that
it wouldn’t swish across my back. I wore it pinned up, in blonde
pigtails on either side of my face. Big, decorative bows, that matched
the color of my cami, tied my hair off into the twin tails.
“This is her sleep wear?” the older woman asked, taking my mink
coat from me.
“It is what modern American girls wear,” Jane explained.
“And the makeup? She wears makeup to bed?” the woman asked.
She hung my coat in a closet by the front door. Jane closed her
umbrella and sat it by the front door and removed her own coat.
Underneath, she wore a cire dress. It was black, like her coat. It was
decollette in its cut, almost too much, showing her cleavage almost to
the red circles of her nipples. Her breasts were white, untanned. Her
arms and face had been tanned, last summer, but she’d lost most of her
tan during the fall. There was a slit up each side of her dress. When
she walked it could be seen that she wore no panties, for the slits ran
all the way from the bottom of her long dress, where her heels stood
poised, all the way up to her waist.
Jane was carrying a small bag. She set it down on the floor.
She drew several items from it.
“I brought her bottle,” Jane said to the woman. “It has warm
milk in it, in case she gets hungry.”
“Very good,” the woman said. Her eyes flicked back and forth,
between myself and Jane. I wanted to giggle, this was so awkward, yet
it was serious too, for Rob had ordered it and it was, truly, in all its
silliness, designed to teach me something. Something I’d remember for a
long time.
“And here is her bear,” Jane said. She showed the woman a
small teddy bear. “And here I have a change of diapers. She refused to
wear any, as you can see. There’s some baby powder also.”
“Very good,” the woman said. “But I do not like her refusing
to wear her diapers.”
“She wet the bed this evening,” Jane said. “She claims she’s a
big girl, though, and donesn’t need diapers. Of course big girls wear
panties, but she refuses those too, as you can see.”
“Yes,” the woman agreed. “Have you been spanking her
regularly?”
“Not regularly,” Jane replied.
“That is the problem,” the woman said. She looked at me. I
shrank under her gaze. I felt both foolish and frightened at the same
time. And aroused, too, for I had heard heavy footsteps pass by the
door, outside. Somewhere, now, a door opened and closed, inside the
house.
“Who is that?” I asked.
“I didn’t hear anyone,” the woman answered.
“Nor did I,” said Jane. I looked in her eyes and saw she had,
but wasn’t admitting to it.
“You require me to look after her while you go out?” the woman
asked.
“Yes,” Jane said.
“You are provocatively dressed,” the woman told Jane. “No
wonder she won’t wear her panties. You don’t have any on either.”
“Ah, it is cooler, though, without them,” Jane said.
“It is downright cold outside. This is the fall,” the woman
told Jane. “Perhaps you’d better stay indoors, while I look after her.
Without panties on, you might catch cold.”
“As you wish,” Jane said.
“It is good that you brought her,” the woman said. She took my
hand. “You will call me Miss Wood,” she told me. “It is not my real
name, but real names are unimportant here. And what shall you be known
by, young lady?”
“Raquella,” I said, making up a name. It was Raquel, from
Raquel Welch, who’d I’d seen in Barbarella, and When Dinosaurs Ruled the
Earth. I added an “a” because the woman had a thoroughly English
accent, and I wanted to be European. “It is French,” I told her.
“Raquella,” the woman said. She rolled the ‘r’ as they do in
Europe. It sounded classy. “A French girl. I see. Well I had some
French girls in my school in England, and they always had a very high
opinion of themselves. They wore too much make up and insisted on
violating the dress code, not wearing their uniforms properly, but
shortening their skirts. And not wearing bras, under their blouses.”
“That is exactly how I dress at my school,” I told her. Which
was true, in part. I’d gotten in trouble for bouncing around in a
t-shirt, with no bra on. I’d been late for the bus. I used to skip
wearing a bra last year, sometimes, and nobody noticed. But this year,
I guess my boobs were bigger. They noticed. I had to spend time in
study hall, after school, for not wearing a bra. Which only made the
day longer, and meant I spent even longer without a bra on. School can
be stupid sometimes.
“Well, Raquella, I am sorry to see you dress for bed so
provacatively,” Miss Wood told me. I heard footsteps in the house. I
glanced at Jane. She pretended to ignore them. I didn’t know whether
Miss Wood heard them or not. Her hair was beginning to turn grey. She
had lines on her face. Perhaps her hearing, too, was not what it once
was. “However, there is a certain advantage to your attire,” Miss Wood
told me. “If you should need to be disciplined, your bottom is already
bare. Turn around. Let me see it.”
I put my hands to my seat. I gulped. Things were getting more
overt now. With a quick glance at Jane, who frowned at my
recalcitrance, I turned and showed my bottom to Miss Wood. I was sure
Rob watched, from somewhere in the house. I was glad he’d followed us,
leaving Katie with Nick. I had him almost to myself now, except for his
wife. Miss Wood obviously was too old to hold his interest.
“Take away your hands,” Miss Wood told me. “You have a lovely
bottom. If you’re not going to wear panties, then you shouldn’t try to
hide it with your hands.”
Slowly I withdrew my hands from my ass.
“Ah,” the woman said. She bent. She moved closer to me. She
peered at my naked seat. “I see she has several marks upon it. They
are? Ah, yes. Temporary. From the use of an implement, I assume?”
“Yes,” Jane said. “She wet the bed earlier this evening, as I
said.”
Miss Wood nodded. “I’m glad to see you’re not entirely remiss
in your disciplining of her,” she said. “But such a round, white,
lovely bottom as she has is very enticing to men. She will get herself
pregnant if she isn’t properly educated.”
“Yes, I agree,” Jane replied. I gulped. Miss Wood’s words
were closer to home than she knew. Even now, I wasn’t sure when I’d
last swallowed a pill. Somehow, though, I’d managed to escape the cave
I’d shared with Nick and his friends, without becoming enceinte.
“Let us go into my class room,” Miss Wood suggested to Jane.
“I would be remiss not to give her a few evening lessons, before tucking
her into bed. With your approval, of course.”
“Please do with her whatever you feel is appropriate,” Jane
said. “Bambi, I mean, Raquella, dear, Miss Wood will escort you into
her class room and have you write a little on the board, and also show
her your posture, and a few other things. Please understand that my
husband Rob made me take lessons from Miss Wood too, some months back,
so I am only requiring of you what was required of me.”
“Of course,” I answered. I felt she wanted me to call her
mommie, but I couldn’t bring myself to be that foolish. Especially
given what she’d promised me in the bath, that this was a visit that
would introduce me to the force of feminine will. In a way I’d
remember.
Miss Wood took my hand. It was firm. It felt cold. It made
me flinch, the coldness of it. It was coated with cream like older
women sometimes smear all over their faces. My body felt flushed and
warm, despite my nudity. My babydoll flipped absently round my waist.
My heels were high, too high, spiked heels that made me feel tall and
made it difficult for me to walk unless I concentrated only on walking.
Yet Jane had insisted I wear them. We’d stopped at a shoe store on the
way over, trading furry slippers I wore for heels. I had, of course,
kept my mink coat on in the store, to the bemusement of the curious
store clerk.
Now I was free of the coat, and without the collar I’d worn
earlier, or the foot manacles. I liked my babydoll but I sensed its
overt sexiness displeased Miss Wood. Did she enjoy being displeased? I
couldn’t tell. Perhaps a part of her enjoyed it, but another, deeper
part of her was envious. Jane had said she’d never been as pretty as
me.
We walked through Miss Wood’s living room, down a hall.
“Raquel, you are a spoilt American girl,” Miss Wood told me.
“We were very poor in Russia. We did not have all your priviledges and
luxuries that you have.” I wished to remind her that I was French, in
the game we were playing for Rob, but said nothing. “Your parents have
pampered you, and your American teachers also, Raquel,” Miss Wood told
me. She put her hand on the handle of a door in the hall. She opened
it. Inside, I saw a small class room. It had a globe, a flag. A
Russian flag. There was also a blackboard, and a single desk, plus
several chairs. A paper strip of alphabet letters hung above the
blackboard. There was a pointer standing in a corner next to the
blackboard. When I looked closer, I saw it wasn’t a pointer, but a
cane. It was made of bamboo.
“Go to the blackboard and draw a male penis for me,” Miss Wood
said. “That’s right. A male penis. With the testicular sac underneath
it. I don’t think you’ve been paying attention in health class. Draw
it out for me, and label all the parts. Can you do that?”
I looked at her rather blankly. I’d seen a cock. I could draw
a cock. But to label everything. Well, I would try. She let go of my
hand. I began walking toward the blackboard.
“No, you are doing it all wrong,” Miss Wood told me. I paused
in mid-stride. I hadn’t even reached the blackboard yet. How could I
be doing anything wrong?
“You American girls,” Miss Wood scolded. “Do you think you are
going to be President of the United States? Well, perhaps. If you
don’t get yourself pregnant. But you, Raquelle, have the body of a
fashion model. I want you to walk as befits your build. Since you are
built like a model, you will walk like one. In the middle ages people
accepted their proper station in life. They did not aspire to what they
had not been born for. You have a model’s body. Therefore, you will
learn to walk like a model. Swing your hips. Give a certain lift to
your step when you walk, so that your fine young bosoms bounce.”
I obeyed. Hoping Rob was watching, I walked with a salacious
grind to my hips. I let my boobies bounce as much as gravity would
allow. I felt the tips stiffen to hard coral points. I was excited. A
moistness began to dampen my bare muff.
“Turn. Come back towards me. We will draw on the board in a
minute. First practise walking. Concentrate, dear. You look unsteady
in your heels. Tch. Tch. Do you wear sneakers all day, is that it? I
know you American girls. Dirty sneakers and those awful, ragged-edged,
greasy wide jeans. The ones that look like they’ll fall down at any
minute. Well, here we can see your nice, bare legs. Show them off.
And your muff. How pretty your furred pussy looks. Show it. Thrust
your hips forward as you come to a stop, before you turn around to walk
back toward the blackboard. Yes. Shove your twat at me. It is a
model’s walk, on the runway. There. Now turn. Show me your bottom
again. Make it wiggle, girl. Men might be watching. Wiggle your ass
so you can sell lots of clothes for your agency. Are your boobies
bouncing? Well, we aren’t selling bras today, are we? No, just
nighties with holes where the bra should be. There, you are doing
better. Now draw a cock for me on the board, so I know you’re at least
aware of the dangers men present to a young girl like yourself in this
world,” Miss Wood said.
I found a piece of chalk in a tray along the bottom of the
blackboard. It was new. It was pink in color. There was an eraser
beside it but I didn’t need the eraser. Not yet. I picked up the chalk
and began drawing.
“You draw so sedately,” Miss Wood said. She sat in a chair
now, with Jane sitting beside her. They were wooden chairs. I hoped
Rob, somehow, was watching. “Wiggle your ass as you draw. You must
always be thinking like a model. Who knows? You may have to make a
career of it. Work your hips as you draw on the board, girl. You’re
drawing a cock, Raquella. It should excite you. Make it bigger. Men
who date a fine girl like yourself, who is a model, have big cocks. Do
you wish to date Pee Wee Herman?”
I drew salaciously at the board, as she commanded me, as I
hoped Rob had secretly commanded her. I wiggled my ass back and forth
as I drew. I made a very big penis on the board with my chalk. I put a
big testicle sac underneath it.
“Put hair on the testes,” Miss Wood called out to me. “Do you
wish to date little boys?”
“No, Miss Wood,” I replied. I put lots of hair on the balls,
drawing it in with my chalk.
“Now where is the crown?” Miss Wood asked. “Yes, that’s it.
Don’t forget to label the pee hole. Did you draw a pee hole?”
I suffered under her directions. She wished all the parts of
the penis labelled. “Where is the root?” she asked me. “Keep wiggling
your hips as you write in all the parts. You should be excited, girl!
Put your hand between your legs. Show me you’re excited by the big cock
you’re drawing.”
I put my hand to my muff. It felt moist. Well, it would be
even more moist in a minute, I told myself. Reluctantly I began rubbing
it. I felt the tight curls there, the labial lips. I sought within
them for my spot.
Miss Wood was implacable. She made me draw another cock, and
then another, erasing each one as I went along. She said each time that
I had been wilfull, and not drawn it as perfectly as befitted the
“perfection” of the male penis. And she kept me rubbing myself, all the
while, making me grow more excited by the minute. And she reminded me
to grind my hips as I worked, and to make a display of my nude bottom,
gyrating it all about, as if I were on a runway, with other models,
being observed by men. Except, if I were on a runway, I’d at least have
something more on than just this winsome, see-through nightie. Unless,
I reminded myself, it was a runway that was featuring a private lingerie
showing. Perhaps a showing for men only.
“Oooooh! I can’t draw anymore!” I declared after making the
third penis. My snatch felt wet. It had made my fingers all wet. I
looked at the penis I’d drawn on the blackboard. It was the most
perfect penis I’d ever drawn in my life.
“Very well,” Miss Wood replied. “You have done your best. But
I sense a certain lack of appreciation in your drawing. Technically, it
is accurate. I shouldn’t wish to harm the delicate self esteem of a
pampered girl like yourself. But there should be more of that
intangible quality of admiration in your drawing,” Miss Wood said. “My
husband died when I was only 30. I think you spoiled American girls
just take the male penis for granted, Raquelle. It is a work of art.
But you treat it diffidently. That sort of diffidence will wind up
getting you pregnant, because you don’t have a proper fear and
admiration of it. A male penis is like Thor, like Jupiter, the God who
Thunders. If it strikes, you will be with child. Come here, girl. You
must learn proper respect for the male penis, or it will be your
undoing. And swing your hips as you walk. No, you don’t have to erase
the board. Erase the board!”
“I was just trying to be neat,” I said meekly.
“She wishes to erase such a perfect picture of a male penis,”
Miss Wood said scornfully to Jane.
“Yes, it looks just like my husband’s, and she wishes to erase
it,” Jane said.
“See? These spoilt girls. No respect, and she is still
unsteady in her heels. Come, girl. You require a sound thrashing to
instill some respect in you. Fortunately I worked part-time at a girls’
reformatory school, after I retired. It was in America, though, and
they let me go. They said I was too severe.”
“Tch,” Jane said.
With steps leaden with hesitancy, yet grinding my hips
profusely as I walked, I approached Miss Wood. A thrashing? I did not
wish for that. Did I? All Rob’s attention would be on me, I was sure,
if I was punished. Not on his lovely wife, with her black cire dress,
and her perfectly made up face, and her pinup’s body. But on me. I
would capture and hold his attention for the entire length of my...
beating. Yes. That was the word. Oh, but why did I have to be hit on
my bottom to take full possession of his eyes? Of his mind. Of his
lust. Because, I supposed, when I was being... hit... (I still had
trouble admitting such a thing to myself). When I was being hit my
bottom would gyrate even more salaciously than it did now, and my young
tits would flaunt themselves even more bouncily. And he would feel
concern for my tears. And my screams would pierce his ears, demanding
he pay attention to me. Only me. Not his wife.
I felt a finger poke between my lips. It was mine. It hung
off the corner of my mouth as a finger on my other hand explored my
snatch. I was hungry. I was lustful. I should not be lustful, I told
myself. But I was. I could still feel, vaguely, the imprint of Jane’s
crop upon my bare behind. Was master gazing at my ass even now? Was he
savoring my twin, wiggly white spheres, and what must happen to them?
Were his eyes peering at my bottomcrack?
“Come and sit on my knee, Raquella,” Miss Wood told me. “Sit
down. Right here. I know your bottom is naked. Put it here on my
knee. Thin as a bone, isn’t it? Yes. Put your bottom on my old, bony
leg. That’s it,” Miss Wood said, satisfied, as I settled my young
backside onto her leg. “Sit still, girl,” she admonished. “I know
you’re excited. I can see that by your pretty nipples. How they stick
out from your breasts? My, your bottom does spread upon my knee,
doesn’t it? Right up between your crack my old leg goes, hmmm?
Splitting the cheeks. No, don’t shift your weight. I like you just as
you are, with your ass poised on my knee and my kneecap jammed up
between the darling cheeks of your bottom.”
I had sat down meekly on Miss Wood’s knee, and it was most
unfortunate, for instead of sitting in a friendly way, sideways on her
thigh, I’d shyly sat myself just at the very end of her leg, where her
knee was. The old goat’s bony knee was now jammed up between my
split-apart ass, as if trying to impregnate my behind. It was decidedly
uncomfortable. My moist snatch made me even more figity.
“How you wiggle so on the end of my knee, girl,” Miss Wood said
disapprovingly. “A proper English education would teach a young lady
like yourself to sit still. You are not a four-year-old, my dear. How
pretty and slim your back is. How lightly fleshed your ribs. My, I can
see every one of them, you are so thin. Let me see, I believe I can
even count them. One, two, am I tickling you?”
Miss Wood’s finger poked me in my ribs. Next, it was light as
a feather, just barely touching me. I couldn’t help giggling. It made
my bosoms jiggle.
“How beautifully your breasts hang off your chest,” Miss Wood
told me. “Let me cup them. You are so young. They are so new. You
should keep them confined in a bra, so they grow properly. Yes, they
will grow even more, don’t worry. How large you American girls can be
in the bosom department, hmmm? Yours are already like lovely ripe
melons. And you do not care to confine them, do you? You want to
flaunt them. You want to run naked and let your bosoms bounce wildly
all over the place. You are liberated, hmmm? Did you burn your bra?”
I wanted no nod ‘no’. I hadn’t burned my bra. Perhaps my
mother had burned hers, when she was young. Old people sometimes get
confused by all the decades, mixing one with another. Then again, I
didn’t always wear my bra. I hadn’t tonight. I’d let my nipples stick
out, when they felt like it, and show themselves poking up from within
my sweater.
“She did not wear a bra this evening,” Jane told Miss Wood.
“She did not?” Miss Wood asked. “What was she wearing?”
“Just a sweater,” Jane answered.
“Oh, walking about outdoors with her boobs bouncing freely,”
Miss wood said. “And now she refuses to wear even panties when visiting
me. This does call for an application of the cane, don’t you think?”
“No,” I wanted to say, but the question was not addressed to
me. I was to sit still, with Miss Wood’s knee up my butt, and her
clammy hands working their bony fingers into my tits. Oh, what silly
things one does for love!
“At least the nightie she has chosen will not inhibit its use,”
Jane said to Miss Wood.
The old crone lifted up the hem of my nightie, which hung round
my ribs, leaving my hips and legs bare. My breasts jutted through the
front of it, for its uppermost part was merely a breast halter, without
any cups. My nipples stiffened even more as I felt Miss Wood play with
the hem of my nightie. I wished it had at least a back to it, but even
there, I was naked, protected only by the back of the breast halter.
The rest of my nightie hung, skirt-like, off my ribs and my front,
leaving my back nude. My bottom was completely without cover.
I opened my legs. I bent and looked down between my breasts at
my furry muff. I rubbed my cunt hairs. I was spread-legged on the old
crone’s knee, looking sluttish, I thought, with my excessive makeup, and
my hair pinned up in pigtail’s like a little girl’s. Did Rob like
seeing me this way? With my breasts bare, my cunt all wet with my
juices, my long legs open to whatever depredations might befall my
snatch?
“Yes,” Miss Wood said. “Bottom training is what she needs.
The posterior is a wonderful part of the body, for it can be beaten
severely, and be made to transmit painfully clear lessons to the mind,
yet it heals quickly, so that after a few days it can be sat upon, with
relative comfort, or thrashed again, if the pupil still requires more
instruction.”
“I shouldn’t like to see my little one hurt too badly,” Jane
said to Miss Wood.
“Ah, you are uninformed, then,” Miss Wood told Jane. “Hurt is
what we wish. Hurt provides the lessons that the mind would otherwise
reject. It is harm we wish to avoid. Unless, that is, you desire some
mark, which she can observe in future to remind herself of her
instruction, even after the pain of it is gone. Do you wish such a
mark?”
“Not- not at present,” Jane answered. “It is used, often, to
claim a girl, is it not? By a man, I mean. He has her marked to claim
her forever as his.”
“Yes,” Miss Wood says. “It serves as a bond between them.
Marriage, you know. It can be so easily undone these days. But a mark,
on the body, that is a permanent thing. Usually it is agreed upon, in
advance, by the couple in question. He desires to have her marked.
Professionally, you know. By someone like myself. Sometimes he is
present. Sometimes not. It depends on the man’s constitution. Some
men cannot bear to see their little beauty marked.”
“Yes, we do not wish for such a mark this evening,” Jane said.
“She is really just a plaything. A diversion.”
“Of course,” Miss Wood said. All the while she kept on
stroking me, lifting my breasts and testing the tenseness of my
nipples. She inquired between my legs into the wetness of my slit. She
parted my legs more fully. She made me continue to sit with my full
weight upon her knee. “Yes. It is better for your husband, being as
handsome as he is, to stray within your view, for he would surely stray
in any case, he is, as I say, so beautiful to look at.”
“Mmmm. I showed you his picture when last I visited,” Jane
said. “With the other girl.”
“Hmmm. How is she? She was 14, was she not?”
“I don’t know,” Jane replied. “She no longer works for us.”
“A lovely girl,” Miss Wood said. “You have good taste. And
this one. She is, perhaps, even prettier still. You keep your husband
well supplied with young flesh.”
“Now and then, as a diversion, to keep him from playing the
field on his own,” Jane said. “And there is a certain beauty in the
girls that I like for its own sake,” she confessed.
“But she will of course be dismissed when her usefulness is...”
Miss Wood began.
“When she bores me,” Jane answered. “Or I find someone
prettier still. I like the girls I meet, but I’m not trying to build a
harem.”
“Of course,” Miss Wood said. “A man would want to be greedy,
and keep all the girls he met forever, though the newest one, of course,
would attract his attention far more than the ones he’s already been
privy with.”
“Yes. I let them go, when I no longer find they interest me as
much as when we first met,” Jane said. “Let them play elsewhere. It
would be improper for me to enslave them.”
“Except briefly, as love slaves,” Miss Wood agreed.
“Yes. And I do not want them getting too close to my husband,”
Jane added.
I shivered, out on the end of Miss Wood’s knee, with her
kneecap jammed up between my buttocks. They were talking of me as if I
were some piece of furniture! And there had been other girls? Before
me? How humiliating! And yet I of course knew I wasn’t Rob’s first.
After all, he was married. I did not know what to think about the idea
of being... used. How difficult it was for me to admit to myself
anything, I thought as I sat with Miss Wood’s knee stuck in my ass. I
was being used, wasn’t I? And I would be hit. Across my bottom. They
would enjoy the act, and my suffering, and afterward I would be turned
out, made to go away. Did I want that? No! And yet that was surely
what would happen. Unless. Unless Rob wound up preferring me to his
wife, and marrying me, and divorcing her. Yes, I told myself. That was
surely what would happen.
I stiffened. My back straightened. (Though, indeed, I was
sitting rather straight already, what with a woman’s knee worked up into
the cheeks of my tush.) If Rob did prefer me, would he need to mark
me? That would bond us forever. He was an honorable man, I felt, even
though I’d known him only a little while. If he marked me, I would be
his forever. He would not stray after that. He would love no one but
me. Jane would be turned out, not me. She would prove to have been the
“diversion”, as she called it. Not me.
Miss Wood grabbed my arms. She wrenched them behind me. I
bleated out a cry of alarm, like a sheep ready for slaughter. Jane
laughed. Holding my wrists behind me, Miss Wood placed cuffs over my
wrists and locked them. I wanted to run, to jerk my hands away, but she
held them tight and I sat, half-compliantly, half not, wiggling and
squirming on her knee, yet obeying, for Rob was watching.
“There,” Miss Wood said. “My, you are trembling, girl. Do you
think I’m going to hurt you now, hmmm? Do you think I’m going to mark
your lovely body? Shhhh. Don’t answer,” she said, placing a finger
over my lips. “Did Jane tell you this is about willpower, hmmm? Mine
*and* yours? Oh, I’m sure you’ll require the cane on your bottom before
you leave. Yes. Nobody leaves here with a nice, white bottom like you
have. But not yet, my dear. No, not yet. I want you to go to the
blackboard again. I want you to pick up the chalk again. Yes, the
chalk. What? You can’t? Of course you can! You have lips, and a
mouth, do you not? Pick it up with your mouth.” She laughed. “You
will draw on the black board with the chalk in your mouth. The pink
chalk between your pink lips. You will draw cocks. Lots of cocks. I
want the whole blackboard filled up with big, stiff, hairy-balled
cocks. Then we will see about your bottom. Get up!” Miss Wood said.
She slapped my flank with her bare hands. It stung upon my thigh. I
leapt up. My bosoms bounced in my leaping. The hem of my nightie rose,
fell. My bottom wriggled, glad to be free of her intrusive knee. I was
free again, free of her hands, and yet not free, for my own were bound
behind me.
I went to the board. I bent over, showing the full amplitude
of my bottom, my cheeks, bending and offering them. I licked in the
chalk trough with my tongue. At last I was able to grip a loose piece
of chalk with my teeth. I stood erect. I held it tightly in my mouth,
lest I drop it, and be punished. I tossed back my blonde hair from my
face. I drew cocks, as she’d requested. I made them long and large and
with big, hairy balls hanging underneath them.
“Very good,” Miss Wood complimented me, when I’d filled the
last corner of the board up with the pink outlines of a big man’s
penis. Rob’s penis. Did he see himself up there, as I did? “Very
good. Put down the chalk. Carefully. Back into the trough. Other
girls will need it. That’s it. One girl simply dropped hers,” Miss
Wood said in an aside to Jane.
I turned. I gazed at my captors. Two women, smartly dressed.
Me wearing nothing, my bush moist, my nipples sprouted, only a filmy,
unconcealing nightie hanging down under my tits.
“It is a maternity nightie she is wearing,” Miss Wood said to
Jane. “You see? She is free to suckle with her bare breasts. And her
nightie, while covering her tummy down to her navel, does not inhibit it
at all. So she can be swollen with child, yet discreet. Of course it
is rather indiscreet, I think, for a young girl of 13, who’s not
pregnant, to be wearing a maternity nightie.”
“She chose it herself,” Jane answered.
“Perhaps she has plans for your husband’s seed you don’t know
about,” Miss Wood said.
“Perhaps,” Jane answered. “But if she bore a child, with his
sperm, I’d consider it mine.”
“She would be a surrogate mother, then?”
“I should hope so,” Jane said. “Otherwise she would be--”
“His wife?” Miss Wood asked.
“No. Never. I am his wife,” Jane said.
“Ah, but rings can be put on, and taken off again,” Miss Wood
said. “You have neither mark upon you, Jane, nor a child of his. Who
are you to claim a superior right to her, if she conceives?”
“I am her mother,” Jane snapped. She frowned at the old woman.
“Consider it a sign of appreciation of your beauty that I spoke
of it,” Miss Wood said.
“That you wish to mark me?” Jane asked.
“One does not wish at my age,” Miss Wood said. “But, were I
younger, and practising the trade I do now, well...”
“Perhaps someday,” Jane said.
“Tonight we must concern ourselves only with her, of course,”
Miss Wood agreed. “Come to me again, Raquella. Wriggle your hips as
you do. They will surely wriggle quite salaciously after I’ve caned
you, dear. You shan’t be able to still them then!” She laughed. “Come
and sit on my lap again, dear. Perhaps you’ll sit in a more friendly
fashion this time, eh, knowing how old and bony my knees are.”
I did. I sat on her thigh, on the thickest part of it I could
find. It was much softer than her knee, though still on the slim side,
as if there’d been more of her once, but it had wasted away as she’d
aged. My boobs hung nakedly under her eyes. She admired them, frankly,
as a man might.
“Yes. You have fine tits,” Miss Wood said. She pinched my
nipples.
“OW!” I cried.
“Fine tits for a girl your age, especially,” Miss Wood said.
“And so perky. How you respond when I touch them.”
“OW! Please don’t do that,” I said. My voice was breathless.
I felt excited. Yet her fingers were rude. I didn’t like them pinching
my bosoms.
“Now, Raquella,” Miss Wood said, exuding satifaction at seeing
me wince. “I have been so concerned for you that I’ve given you some
training right off. But really, this is most inappropriate. Do you
remember when you first went to nursery school? Was there not a
physical examination, by a doctor, of your body before you were allowed
to attend? It is the same here. I am no different from the state in
that respect. We shall have to examine you, my dear. When you were a
little girl, of course, you simply lifted your skirt, and dropped your
panties, and stood in front of the doctor, perhaps holding your teddy
bear all the while. But not here. You are bigger now. Come! We must
give you a young woman’s exam.”
Miss Wood rose. I, being on her lap, was forced to rise with
her. Jane stood. She eyed me expectantly. I tried to gaze at her, but
wound up looking at my toes instead. Was Rob watching? Did he wish to
see me... examined?
“We have a doctor’s office right across the hall, dear,” Miss
Wood said. She unlocked my handcuffs. She took the cuffs away, and I
eagerly rubbed my wrists. They had been tight. Jane smiled at me. But
it was a sadist’s smile, glad to see me suffering, if only a little. I
tried to ignore her smile.
“Please take my hand,” Miss Wood told me. “I don’t want you
running ahead, or lagging behind. That’s a good girl.” Miss Wood put a
finger under my chin and lifted it. “Try not to be afraid, dear.
You’re trembling so. A visit to the doctor is worrisome, but I’ll try
to see that you aren’t probed too deeply. I try to make sure that the
discomfort in my exam isn’t excessive.”
Miss Wood pulled me forward. Her words did nothing to assauge
my fears. I felt as one on a river, a raging river, bobbing along,
unable to control my fate. And yet I could, at any moment, refuse,
couldn’t I? But then what would Rob think of me? He would think me
just a child, woulnd’t he? Not a young woman fit for his attention, but
only a scared little girl. I didn’t want to be thought of as a scared
little girl. Katie, I was sure, would never willingly submit to a
physical exam. It would frighten her, going to the doctor. So I let my
chin be lifted, and tried to walk confidently, while still swaying my
hips, which swayed in any event, thanks to Miss Wood requiring me to, or
not, because in addition I was agitated and feeling sexy. It was a
sexiness laden with fright, however. Perhaps I wished it that way?
Perhaps I didn’t feel enough self esteem to just be outrightly sexy? My
mom would never want me to be outrightly sexy. Nor my teachers. Nor my
pastor. Especially at 13. So, yes, I needed to be pushed a little, and
made to frig my slit. Pulling me along, Miss Wood made me put my free
hand over my pussy. She told me to feel shy at being exposed to the
doctor, yet excited. And I did! I diddled my slit as we walked, my
hips swinging, Jane following. I let my bare bottom flaunt itself
before her eyes. I played with myself freely. I felt my nipples,
stiffly uprisen on my bosoms, sticking out in front of me as I frigged
my slit. We were so naughty. I was so bad. I would be well deserving
of that cane standing in the corner, before the night was through.
I wondered about Katie. What games were they playing? She and
Nick? He was a bad boy, Nick. He had lured me to that cave full of
Navy Seals. They had used me, and I had never seen them again. Would
the same happen to me this time? Would Rob be a distant memory soon, as
Jim already was becoming? Oh, my! I didn’t want to be a slut! Yet I
was always, it seemed, running afoul of bad people. Nick first, now
Jane and her husband, and Miss Wood. It was my body, I told myself. It
was not me. It was my body. It had blossomed and attracted all the
world’s flies to it. Flies and bees. And worms. Big, man-sized penis
worms, that just had to have me, no matter what.
“This is the exam room,” Miss Wood told me. We were in the
hall and she opened a door and let us into another room. Behind us lay
the school room, across the hall, the big penises I’d drawn still on the
black board. Before us lay a wicked looking room, with an ob/gyn table,
complete with stirrups, and surgical tools on a metal tray beside it.
There was a screen, in a corner, behind which one could undress. I, of
course, Miss Slut, was already nude, or almost nude. Now I would not
only be naked but spread and forced to offer myself. My whole self.
Upon the table, I guessed. I shut my eyes tight and tried not to walk
forward when Miss Wood pulled on my hand.
The exam room was scary enough, but what made it worse was
something along one side of the room. There, lined with brick, with a
fire set standing beside it, was a fireplace. A small fire crackled
within it, turning logs slowly to ash. Hearing it, one knew instantly
one wasn’t really in a doctor’s office. It was only a play office,
designed for wicked ends. How it would have been so much easier if the
exam room was perfect in its appearance. Then I might have told myself
I really was in a doctor’s office, being examined by a doctor. But not
with that fireplace. That, crackling away, throwing light and heat out
into the room, made it abundantly clear that this was not an real
doctor’s office, but only a house, with doctor’s gear placed in it. I
would be probed by people who were not doctors, who were only playing.
They would, perhaps, open me wider than any doctor, require more of me,
and it would be all for naught. Nothing would be learned, except
perhaps by me, that I should’t play such games.
“Get on the table,” Miss Wood said to me. There was a small
portable set of steps next to the ob/gyn table. She guided me toward
them. “Wait,” she said suddenly. “You have your nightie on. Your
maternity nightie. Please go behind the screen and remove it. Your
heels also. I will need you barefoot, so that I can place your feet
properly in the table’s stirrups. Go, my child. We’ll be waiting for
you when you come out. Oh, yes. One other thing. While you are behind
the screen, I would like for you to brush out your hair, and touch up
your makeup. Remember, this is a special doctor’s office. You must
look your very best, even if you are naked.”
Shiveringly I let go of her hand. How awful this was! Yet how
stiff and perfect my nipples were. How wet my slit. I left her with
mincing steps, not wishing to obey, yet able to do little else. Jane
locked the door to the room as I walked behind the screen. I heard the
key in the lock. I wondered where she’d gotten it, and why we needed to
be locked in. Could Rob see me from outside the room? Was there,
perhaps, some sort of camera? A hidden mirror? I guessed there must
be. Yet, did I wish him to see me as open as the ob/gyn table would
make me? I did, and yet, at the same time, I did not. I was
conflicted. I only wanted him. Yet he wanted more. He wanted me, but
also to see me tested. Perhaps because I was so young? Or because it
served his wicked male needs? I didn’t know. With butterflies in my
tummy, I stepped behind the screen. There was a hook there, for my
nightie. A low stool. A mirror. A makeup kit. A brush for my hair.
“Come out, Raquella. This is a doctor’s office, not a beauty
parlor,” Miss Wood called some minutes later. I appeared from behind
the screen. My hair was brushed to a bright gloss. My pigtails were
back in place, holding my freshly brushed hair. My ribbons in my hair,
holding up my pigtails, now matched a nightie I no longer wore, hanging
by itself behind the screen, on a hook. My lipstick made my lips red,
seductive. My eyes, large and bright and frightened, bore new layers of
mascara. My cheeks were powdered. I looked like a girl going dancing,
but instead I was to be examined!
I paused with fright as I stepped from behind the screen. Miss
Wood and Jane were decked out in surgical gear! They both wore long,
flowing hospital surgeons’ gowns. Their hair was pinned up, though not
completely, within surgical caps. They wore rubber gloves. Their faces
had surgical masks tied over them. I was nude, barefoot.
“Come here, Raquella,” Miss Wood told me in a stern voice.
“Medical time is expensive. We doctors are busy people. Come and get
up on the table, so we can begin your exam.”
“Yes, Miss Wood,” I answered. I shivered as I walked. I bit
my lower lip. I felt my teeth rubbing against the lipstick I’d applied
to it.
“Up on the table!” Miss Wood commanded. “Get your bottom up
there. Yes. Mount the steps. Lie flat on your back. Take your hand
off your pussy. We must examine your sex, right up you all the way to
your womb, to insure you’re free of disease, and without child. And you
must be given a pap smear, of course. It will only hurt a little.”
Wincing, blushing, my hips waggling with fright, I mounted up
the table’s steps. I lay down upon the paper sheeted surface of the
table. The paper had small elephants and giraffes printed on its
surface, as a table might have in a children’s hospital. Miss Wood and
Jane came up beside me. They stood over me. They peered down at me,
anonymous in their surgeon’s masks. I let them take my wrists. I felt
myself shaking, I was so worried. Anything, I felt, could happen to me
on this table. Anything from an abortion, which I didn’t need, to a
pregnancy, which I half-wanted, if it was by Rob, and didn’t want, if it
was by anyone else. I was to be spread, opened. I felt them take my
ankles and place them in the footrests. They buckled them there, then
returned to my hands. I lay with them over my head, where they’d laid
them. I gazed up. Twin leads hung over me, positioned over my
breasts. What were those for? I felt rubber tubing wrap around my
wrists.
“The exam may be painful,” Dr. Wood said. “We will bind your
hands so that you do not interfere.”
“No,” I breathed. But my voice was small, frightened. They
ignored it.
“It is normal to feel afraid, as a patient,” Jane said to me in
a consoling voice.
My wrists were bound to a metal bar at the top of the table.
The women used rubber hospital hoses. They were not made for such a
purpose, but it didn’t matter. They were effective in restraining me.
That’s all that mattered.
Carefully Miss Wood buckled a strap across my middle. She made
it tight, so that I couldn’t buck up my bottom as they examined me. I
gazed down at myself, at my bosoms, at my risen nipples. I was theirs
to do with as they pleased now.
“One more thing,” Miss Wood said. She placed a cloth over my
eyes. Someone lifted the back of my head up. Hands tied the cloth so
that it formed a blindfold. I could not see. I felt more frightened
than ever. “Now open your mouth,” Miss Wood said. “Say ah.” I felt a
wooden popsicle stick on my tongue. I showed her my tonsils. Then, to
my gasping surprise, I felt a bit jammed in my mouth. It was made of
rubber. “Bite down,” Miss Wood said. “This will help with the pain. I
wouldn’t want you griding your pretty teeth together. You might break
them.”
“No, please!” I tried to cry. It was no use. I was firmly
bitted. It was buckled behind my head, with a leather strap. It held
my teeth apart and pressed down on my tongue. I regretted opening my
mouth to the popsicle stick. I regretted everything, but it was much
too late now. I was to be a patient, nothing else, for the next few
minutes. Spread and opened and made unresistant.
“Who needs anesthesia when there’s straps and restraints and
bits?” Jane laughed.
“I couldn’t agree more,” Miss Wood said. “No wonder hospital
costs keep rising. All that money they spend every year on
anesthesiologists, when a pair of straps will do just as well.”
“Love slaves, fortunately, have no choice in the matter,” Jane
said.
“Well, let’s see what she’s been up to, now,” Miss Wood said.
“You never know about these American girls. They are so beautiful, and
sleep with so many men.”
“Indeed,” Jane said. “I think we should check every part of
her.”
“See how well the stirrups lift her legs. They swivel her hips
up nicely. We can examine both her cunt and her bottom hole,” Miss Wood
said.
“She’ll need both examined, too, the way she gives herself so
freely to men,” Jane said.
“But we must begin with the titties,” Miss Wood said. “See? I
have leads hanging here, over our heads. Please uncoil one and attach
it to her nipple.”
“My, these are new,” Jane said. “What is their purpose?”
“To test the teats for child-rearing,” Miss Wood said. “They
are connected to an air pump. It will suck, in alternate seconds, all
the air from these thin tubes attached to the tips of her breasts.
Sucking on them, as a baby might, to test her fitness to nurse.”
“Inventive,” Jane said.
I was attached. By my bosoms. I gasped behind my gag but they
paid me no heed at all now. I was just a stretched-out body, to be
played upon. They licked my nipples, bit them irreverently, making me
sob behind my gag, and hooked the tubular leads up to me. The leads
ended in small cups which, wetted by the womens’ saliva, and being
vaccum tubes, allowed my breast tips to extrude up into the glass
confines of each cup. The machine began to suck upon my bosoms. Just
the nipples, of course, because that was all that could fit up inside
each cup, though the women tried to stuff in as much of me as they
could, to make the fit tight. I shouted behind my gag. I was ignored.
With the machine grinding away, the leads pumped my titties. My boobs
wobbled nakedly on my chest. My nipples felt as if they were being
attacked by twin mouths. Hungry Terminator babies suckled at my teats,
unrelenting. They desired nourishment. I was pumped like some Queen
Bee, feeding a hive, used only for my reproductive value.
“I have company this evening,” Miss Wood said to Jane.
“Oh, really?” Jane asked.
“Yes,” Miss Wood said. “And I think our little Miss here
should have her fleecy little mount attended to.”
“But it is so pretty already,” Jane said. “Do you not think it
is the prettiest little mount you’ve seen in some time?”
“Indeed. But beautiful women go more often to the beauty
parlor than ordinary women do, I’ve found,” Jane said. “They are always
finding an excuse to primp and preen.”
“So you think I should play beautician to her pussy?” Jane
asked.
“Yes, please,” Miss Wood said. “We both will. My company
could walk in on us and, well, Raquella’s face isn’t the first thing
they’ll see.”
“No, hardly,” Jane answered. She stroked a sharp-nailed finger
down the length of my slit. I quaked in my bonds. Company? Did Miss
Wood mean Rob? I hoped she did. But she’d said ‘they’, not ‘him’.
“Let’s give her a quick shampoo,” Miss Wood said to Jane.
“Just of her cunt hair, of course. The hair on her head hardly matters,
with her lying flat on her back and her head way at the other end of the
table. Why, bitted and blindfolded, I doubt my company will pay any
attention to little Raquella’s face. They would not even recognize her
on the street, tomorrow, if they saw her, though if she dresses like she
is now, and opens herself, perhaps they’d recognize her by her cunt.”
“Yes, such a small, pretty cunt,” Jane agreed. “And her bush
just growing in.”
“We must shampoo it, though, so she’ll look her very best,”
Miss Wood said.
“Let me see, then. You have water?” Jane asked.
“I’ve converted the wet bar in this room to a surgical sink,”
Miss Wood said. “You’ll find a small bucket over there, and a scrub
brush, and a fresh bottle of shampoo.”
“Very well,” Jane said.
I bucked against my bonds. I could barely lift my hips, due to
the tight strap across my belly. Yet I tried. Oh, how horrid it was,
to be spread and open like this, and now to be shampooed! And presented
to company?!
As the suction cups continued to yank on my nipples, drawing
them up to points that were painfully stiff, Jane fetched a bucket. I
heard it clank against something hard, a wooden stool, perhaps, as it
was positioned under my crotch. Water splashed onto my pussy. Fingers
rubbed my dell. Then I heard a squirting sound and rich, soapy liquid
spread itself in a line across my sex. Fingers returned to my snatch
again, and began rubbing me.
“Oh, look how she tries to buck her hips,” Jane said.
“Yes, she doesn’t lie still, as she should,” Miss Wood said.
“Another reason to bring the cane to her bottom when we’re through.”
“She’ll go home with quite a red one, considering all her
disobedience,” Jane remarked. They continued to massage me, rubbing
soap all over my pussy.
“Now for a rinse,” Miss Wood said. Water splashed my dell.
“Jane, fetch the hair dryer. We’ll blow dry her pussy hair. And get a
brush, so we can give her short pussy hairs a nice brush after we’ve
dried them.”
“Of course,” Jane said. “Oh! Here’s your company, she added,
hearing a knock on the exam room’s door. I heard footsteps. They were
those of a woman’s high heels. The door was unlocked and I heard it
creak, briefly, as it swung open.
“Why, boys. How nice of you to show yourselves,” Miss Wood
said. Her voice came from across the room. “Did you each have a nice
shower?” she asked.
“Yeah,” several male voices grunted. Their voices seemed
strained. I gasped. They were boys! I could tell by how youthful they
sounded.
“And you put on the suits I laid out for you. How wonderful,”
Miss Wood said. “Jane, these are several select boys from the high
school swim team. I made them nice little suits. Do they fit okay,
boys?”
“They’re, uh, smaller than the ones we wear for the team,” a
boy said in a throaty voice.
“Smaller than your ball hugger swimsuits, your Speedoes?” Miss
Wood asked. “Why, yes, I see they must be. Look, Jane. This boy’s
erection has popped out of the top of his suit. Oh, there’s another!”
“Sorry,” a male voice replied. “I couldn’t--”
“No, it’s alright,” Miss Wood said. I imagined her
rubber-gloved hands touching his cock. “You’re so big and hard.
Perhaps I did make your suits a little small. I didn’t realize you boys
would be so big at 15 and 16. Have you grown since I last saw you?”
“I dunno,” a male voice said.
“Oh, here comes the other boy’s penis. Right out the side of
his swimsuit. I guess I did make them too small,” Miss Wood said. “Did
you boys have a good practise this evening?”
“It was kinda cold,” a boy said.
“Oh, yes! It’s so windy and rainy,” Miss wood agreed. “The
school really should build you boys an indoor pool to practise in.
Here, stand over here next to the fire, boys. Warm yourselves a moment
while Jane and I finish up with our other guest. She’s having a quick
medical exam. To make sure she’s fit for child rearing.”
“Nurse Wood,” Jane said.
“Yes, Nurse Jane?” Miss Wood asked.
“Have the boys step behind the screen and remove their
swimsuits. We can save on medical costs by examining them as well as
Raquella here,” Jane said.
“Why, what a thought!” Jane said. “A package deal. Three boys
and one girl, all examined in one fell swoop. Boys, would you care to
have your penises examined? We could even test your ability to
impregnate, given that we’ve got a nice pussy right here, already open
wide and ready to receive you.”
“Sure,” a male voice replied. It was seconded by two others.
“Then just step behind the screen,” Miss Wood said. “Remove
your suits. You can hang them over the top of the screen. That will be
fine. Would you care for a drink? We are fortunate in that, despite
medical cutbacks, we do have a wet bar here.”
“Sure.”
“Okay.”
“Why not?” the males grunted in reply.
As the males disrobed, a hair dryer was applied to my bush. It
gushed hot air across my gash, making me, in the process, wet along my
slit even as it managed to dry my pubic hair. Whoever was drying my
cunt hairs seemed not to mind that I was moistening in my dell even as
she did her best to make me warm and dry. When my pubic bush had been
dried, a hair brush was dragged across it. The feel of it made me even
juicier along my slit.
“There. How pretty she looks,” I heard Jane say.
“Yes. Quite presentable,” Miss Wood agreed. “Boys? Are you
all ready now? My, such big cocks! I really do think you’ve grown
since I’ve last seen you. Come over here, boys. I want to examine each
of your penises, to make sure you haven’t been up to anything naughty
that’s given you a disease. And, since our little Miss here just
visited the beautician’s, I think it’s only fair you boys have a quick
visit too. A quick shampoo for you!”
“But we just took a shower!” one boy replied.
“Yes, but this will only be a shampoo of your cock hair,” Miss
Wood said. “Sometimes boys don’t scrub all the places they should. But
even if you have, boys, I expect you to be very, very clean for what
we’re about to do. This will be a medical procedure, and you know how
those are.”
“What-- what do you plan to do to us?” I heard a boy croak. I
assumed Miss Wood had just taken hold of his cock with her rubber gloved
hands.
“I’m going to save on equipment costs by using your dicks to
explore the cunt of our patient here, who’s lying on the table,” Miss
Wood said. “If that’s alright with you, boys?”
“Yeah.”
“Sure.”
“Why not?” the males, not exactly future Shakespeares,
answered.
“May I give her a quick check with the speculum, to see,
preliminarily, how she’s fitted out for such an exam?” Jane asked Miss
Wood.
“Please do, Nurse Jane,” Miss Wood replied. “Open her up and
give her a women’s exam. These boys won’t be peering inside her, after
all. They’ll be using their cocks. And the eye of the male cock cannot
see. It’s purpose is to ejaculate. Isn’t that right, boys? Ooops!
Not too soon, please, son.”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to get it all over your hands,” a boy
said.
“It’s alright. You have such a young, strong cock,” Miss Wood
said. “I doubt you’ll even flag in your strength, despite your
accidental discharge. Am I right?”
“I--” the male answered.
“See, you’re not lessening in your stiffness at all,” Miss Wood
said. “Look how hard he remains, Jane, despite cumming all over my
hands!”
“Oh, boys that age have so much jism,” Jane agreed. Meantime,
she began spreading me with a metal instrument. Despite being nude
already, and with my legs spread, I blushed fiercely as I felt the
speculum open my cuntlips in front of the boys.
“Now don’t-- Oh! My, Steven, you’ve shot your load all over
my hands, just like your friend did,” Miss Wood said.
“Well you didn’t wash off his jism and it was so oily and
hot--” the boy answered.
“Oh, you’ve never felt another male’s sperm spread over your
own cock?” Jane asked. “You boys obviously haven’t been to too many
orgies, then, have you? Everyone winds up with everyone else’s cum and
juice all over their sexual parts at such a feast. Get used to it,
boys. With cocks like these, you’ll be getting lots of invitations, I’m
sure.”
With the speculum exposing me for all I was worth, I listened
to Miss Wood’s chatter as she examined each of the boys. Then she had
each one put his erect cock over a bucket and she gave it a quick was.
I listened as shampoo was squirted along the length of each erect
member. Then came a cry from each boy as his manhood was vigorously
massaged. Two of the boys apparently shot themselves onto Miss Wood’s
belly. Their spirits did not flag, however, nor their hard-ons. Miss
Wood exclaimed over the beauty of their cocks as she gently dried each
one with the hair dryer, trying not to so excite the boys that they
spurted a third time.
“Alright, boys,” Miss Wood said at last. “You’re all still
quite erect for the task at hand, I see. How wonderful. This will
really save my little hospital a lot of money. I’d kiss each of you on
the tips of your lovely fine instruments but I’m afraid you’ll cum
again. Here, a quick kiss on each of your cheeks instead. Mmmm, you
need a shave, Steven. Have you started shaving yet?”
“Once in a while,” Steven answered.
I listened as Miss Wood kissed each of the boys. Then I heard
one of them approach. His bare feet slapped on the floor. I sensed his
approach, between my legs. His hands grasped my thighs. He pushed my
legs more widely apart.
“Oh!” I gasped behind my gag. I felt his bullet-headed hard-on
bump against my slit.
“She’s going to be a tight fit,” Miss Wood warned. “Jane,
squirt some baby oil on to his cock. Has she had her pill?”
“I don’t know,” Jane said. “But she has dallied with my
husband already this evening.”
“Then she is undone already, or not,” Miss Wood answered. “A
little extra won’t hurt. Ram yourself into her, young man. Don’t spare
her. She’ll be tight all the way up.”
“Hooooo!” I shouted. My gag silenced my scream. I felt the
unseen, anonymous boy’s member shove itself into my twat. I shuddered.
I tried tightening myself, to keep him out. It was to no avail. He
seemed to enjoy my resistance, and pushed all the harder.
“Right up,” Miss Wood told the boy. “Get your dick into her.
Split her open with it and let her feel the full length of it. Put your
hands on his bare bottom, Jane, and give him a good shove. She’s quite
narrow and difficult for him.”
“She is only 13,” Jane said. “Here, let me get hold of your
behind, young man. My, how small and compact it is.” I heard my
paramour give a shout, even as I screeched, trying to hold him back, and
finding that he rammed up me all the more eagerly and successfully.
“Yes, I’m going to put my finger against your anal hole,” Jane told the
boy. “Does that feel awkward, hmmm? My, we’re saving on medical costs
this evening, Nurse Wood! I can examine his butthole even as he
examines her cunt!”
“The president will be pleased at all our cost savings,” Miss
Wood agreed.
“There’s no need for National Health Care, not if you save on
expenses, like we do!” Jane said.
“No indeed,” Miss Wood agreed. “Don’t rub yourselves, boys.
You are fine young men, but I don’t want to have too much sperm on my
floor. We’ll have to pay all the money we’ve saved to the janitorial
staff!”
“Yes, Miss Wood,” one of the boys croaked.
“Oh, you’re spending anyway,” Miss Wood sighed. “When’s the
last time you boys had sex?”
“Never,” one of the boys said.
“Sixteen? And never been laid?” Miss Wood asked. “No wonder
you’re so full of sperm! My God, the milkman will think he can skip my
house, tomorrow. I’ll have white stuff flowing down the front steps.”
“I’m sorry,” a boy said.
“There’s no need to be sorry, provided you’re hard,” Miss Wood
assured the boy.
“I- I’m starting to lose it,” the boy said.
“Here, let me see if my lips can get you erect again,” Miss
Wood said. “As young as you are, I’m sure you’ve got one more spurt you
can give us. Hmmm?”
“Sure!” the boy said.
“Tommy, don’t play with your penis while I’m sucking your
friend,” I heard Miss Wood say.
“I want to shoot mine, so I can get sucked too,” the boy
answered.
“Well, alright, but-- Tommy! Don’t stick your thing in my
hair!” Miss Wood, apparently kneeling now on the floor, scolded.
“I’m sorry, ma’am, I--” the boy began.
“Tommy! You’re shooting your sperm all over my hair!” Miss
Wood exclaimed.
“I-- God this feels good, Miss Wood, rubbing your beautiful
hair all over my dick!” the boy named Tommy cried.
I was filled to my womb by the boy who had been put to the task
of entering me. He did not spare me any of his erection. Even if he’d
been minded to, seeing me writhe and buck under him, Jane’s finger in
his butthole pressed him forward. With jerks of passion, mixed with
alarm, he shoved his hard cock in me, all the way up to his balls.
“Now draw back, then up again,” Jane told the boy, as he stood
stretching and filling me with the whole length of himself. “We must
make a game of it, you see. Up you go, deep into her. Then pull your
small bottom back, drawing out your prick. Here, I’ll guide you a
little,” Jane said. I imagined her hands clutching now at his ass, her
finger removed from his bottom, if only for a moment. His cock slid out
of me, all covered with my juices. Then, just as the big, bulbous head
of himself was about to pop free of my cunt, Jane shoved him forward
again. I screamed as I felt him ram up in me once more.
“Hey, this is fun!” the boy cried.
“Yes, in and out,” Jane said. “Work your cock in her. Did you
think you were to just stick yourself in, and go to the bathroom in
her?” Jane laughed. “I want you to make her suffer. Make our little
Miss take your cock repeatedly.”
“What’s her name?” the boy asked, holding me by my bare hips as
he shoved his dick hard into me.
“Her name doesn’t matter,” Jane answered. “She’s a young
slut. She wished to be fucked, and gang-banged, but she insisted I
cover her eyes, so you couldn’t know her name. Do you mind? Will you
refuse her your seed, because she won’t give her name?”
“Nope,” the boy said, stretching me hard apart with the
thickness of his big cock. “She’s just a cunt to me,” the boy said.
“Anyway, she’s a blonde. I prefer redheads.”
“Of course,” Jane said. She must have pulled again on his ass,
because he began to withdraw himself. “Who needs dating? And romance?
And kisses and flowers? All a big, strapping dude like you needs is
someplace to put his cock in the evening? Am I right?”
“That’s right,” the boy heaved, pulling his cock back to its
head and then splitting me anew as he rammed himself up again. “I
figure, it takes away-- it takes away from sports, asking girls out and
stuff. Like you said, I do need to shoot, but I like doing sports and
it doesn’t leave me much time for girls,” he said. He spoke the word
‘girls’ with a considerable amount of contempt. “And working on my
car. I like that too,” the boy said.
“Of course,” Jane replied.
“Yeeoch! Don’t stick your finger so far in my butt!” the boy
told Jane.
“Oh, you’re so tight back here,” Jane said. “But I’m just a
girl. Don’t worry, my finger is little.”
“I really don’t need a butthole exam,” the boy said. “The
coach doesn’t require it.”
“How about an examination of your balls?” Jane asked.
“Oooh! No, not that either,” the boy groaned. “Don’t squeeze
them so hard.”
“Sorry,” Jane said. “As a girl I’m not aware of all the parts
of the male anatomy. How about yourself. Do you know all the different
parts of the female anatomy?” Jane asked. She spoke politely, as if
they were simply chatting at a party.
“Nope,” the boy admitted, probing me deeply with his dick even
as he continued his conversation with Jane. “But I do know girls have
cunts. That I know.”
“I guess so, since you’re in one right now,” Jane laughed.
“And tits too,” the boy said. “What’s she got attached to
hers?”
“Those are suction cups, to test the fitness of her nipples,”
Jane said. “Would you like to suck them after you’re through?”
“Yeah,” the boy said.
“They might hurt a little from the cups, so suck gently,
alright?” Jane asked.
“Just let me suck them,” the boy said. I felt his jism spurt
suddenly into my womb. He was deep, and I felt him fill me up right to
my core.
“Ah!” I cried, behind my bit.
“Oh, God! I’m losing it!” the boy groaned.
“No, you’re not losing it,” Jane said. “Not when you’ve rodded
her good, as you have. You’re fulfilling your duty, as a male. Fill
her up with your sperm. Would you like to be a father?”
“Not-- not if it takes away from sports,” the boy said.
“Mostly I just need-- ack-- need to shoot my load. A lot.”
“Yes,” Jane agreed.
Miss Wood saw to the spearing of my twat by the second boy,
immediately after the first had withdrawn. He, in turn, was put to my
nipples. Jane stopped the machine and removed the cups so the boy could
get at me. My nipples were so sensitive, I screamed, when the cups came
off. But the boy showed me no mercy. Immediately he put his mouth to
my teats and began to suck hard.
“Yes, work them, gently but diligently,” Jane told the boy.
“Don’t bite her! Just suck them very thoroughly. It won’t matter if
she’s sagging in a few years, from getting too much attention. She’s
just a slut, anyways. A very pretty slut, but a slut all the same. My,
how eager your friend is! He just jams his pecker right up her, doesn’t
he?”
I was reamed in my twat even as my first paramour assaulted my
breasts. Miss Wood saw to the second boy, making him take me with hard,
thrusting strokes, even as Jane made the first boy devour my tits. The
males hardly needed any encouragement but, given as I was already flat
on my back and split wide, I regretted what they did give, for it made
them take me all the less sympathetically. There were no kisses, no
hugs. No gentle pats or blandishments of love, however disengenous they
might later prove to be. There was just hard, relentless, deliberate
fucking. When the second boy had discharged, he was put to work on my
breasts, even as the first boy continued to feast on me. The third boy,
meanwhile, was guided between my legs, where he began his own assault on
my dell. I squeezed his dick hard with my cunt, to try to make him cum
quicker. But he seemed the hardiest of all, and the biggest. He jabbed
me repeatedly, and paid no attention at all to my cries for relief. His
friends fed at my breasts as if they were mounds of food. I was worked
over like some kind of blindfolded, gagged, inflatable doll. When at
last the third boy came, shooting into the already-filled depths of my
womb, he was given a turn at my breasts. At last all three of them were
ushered from the room. They did not ask for their swimsuits back. Miss
Wood had them wipe their feet before they left, so they would not track
their sperm on the floor of the exam room out into her hall.
30
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