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From: Andrew Roller <roller39@IDT.NET>
Subject: Pussy Playland part 4 of 4 (NND)
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_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
PUSSY PLAYLAND
_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
Chapter Four
Her cheeks were wet with my dew. She was slathered in cream.
I gazed into her eyes and she into mine. Our noses touched. We kissed,
lightly, like two warriors from different tribes contemplating peace.
“How do you feel, honey?” Sherry asked me.
“Full,” I answered. “In my butt.” My voice was tremulous from
my exertions underneath Jeff. She giggled. Jeff rose and walked out to
the drain and relieved himself. We could hear his pee hitting the
drain, flowing, gurgling down. “I think little boys used to be trapped
against this wall by their cocks,” I mused to Sherry. My eyes looked at
the cock ring in front of my pillow. On either side of it the wall was
recessed. Had little boys knelt here, in front of the ring, their knees
pressing into the wall on either side of it, and felt a master ring and
lock their penises? I shivered. Now I was a victim too. Sherry
caressed my reamed hole and fingered within it. I felt opened back
there, where I was supposed to poop things out but had instead let Jeff
ram himself into me. I could feel his sperm up inside me. Slowly it
was starting to trickle and run down from the deep place he’d shot it to
the opening of my anal hole. Sherry kissed me again.
“We’ve got much more to do, but now it’s time for a little
break,” she said. “A little sleep, a wash, a midnight breakfast. Come
on. Let’s go upstairs and relax awhile.”
I stirred. I found I couldn’t move my body. It had been
hammered for so long by Jeff that it just wanted to lay there forever.
Sherry stood up. Her large breasts bounced on her chest. Her nipples
were still hard, as if she wanted more. I did not want any more. I was
so thoroughly fucked I felt like a rag doll, lying there. Jeff had
pounded my anus until I’d cried. Sherry had licked at my clit as if I
were a meal and my slit was her first dinner after a hunger strike. She
bent down, her bosoms hanging down as she bent low to retrieve me. They
looked like they belonged at a dairy farm, full and heavy and stiff
nippled. Sherry took my arm and pulled.
“Come on, it’s just a fucking you got. You act as if you’ve
been executed!” she teased me.
“My bottom feels like its been executed,” I said. It was
striped and sore from being hit by Jeff’s whip.
“What do you think mine feels like?” Sherry asked. She tugged
on my arm again and I let her pull me, not without effort, to my knees.
My head felt a little dizzy from all the champagne I’d drunk. Is that
what had finally convinced me to try sliding down a cream-covered mat on
a pillow? Such a stupid thing! Yet I’d almost won. It would have been
so fun to beat Sherry in her own home in front of her own husband. I
felt a sudden, desperate need to have a big man of my own like she did.
Not some guy on the beach, sole owner of a surfboard. But a man who had
an important job and a nice home out in the canyons, or up on the
hilltops, who could buy me nice things and spoil me. It beat sitting at
home listening to my mom insist on two hours of homework a night. What
did trigonometry have to do with men? Or boys, for that matter? Who
cared about all those unkewl equations? There was only one measurement
that mattered.
Jeff came bobbing back up to us. His cock was still nicely
elongated, although he’d spent his strength up inside my tight teenage
bottom. His balls jangled underneath him, between his powerful thighs,
like church bells. They were empty at the moment, but I had little
doubt they’d refill again soon. And they were empty because... it took
my breath away! Because he’d worked and labored and striven to give me
his all. And he had. I now held his strength within me. What if he’d
shot in my belly? I couldn’t remember the last time I’d taken a pill.
My mom didn’t like me having them.
I looked up at Jeff. He’d been so very hard. (And that,
wouldn’t you know, is when men try to get themselves up inside us,
inside our smallest, tightest, most forbidden places. When they’re
hard! Not when they’re soft. Men are not polite like we girls are.
They wait till they’re huge and hard and absolutely inflexible and then
they say, “excuse me, little miss, but I’m really horny and I’m just
going to HAVE to stick this big thing of mine in you. Sorry for the
inconvenience, of course, but you’re just going to have to take me and I
can’t stand having this big thing sticking out in front of me anymore.
You see, I can’t get my pants on and its just driving me crazy. Maybe
if you weren’t so young and cute and innocent, or weren’t wearing sexy
clothes... So you see, my dear, it’s all your fault. Now do please
spread for me or I’ll make it very difficult for you.” And that’s if
they’re ‘nice.’ If they’re mean you don’t even know what hits you.
They just ‘take command,’ as men like to do. And you recieve them.
And, looking up at Jeff, I wanted to recieve him again. He
grinned possessively at me. He liked seeing me wobbling on my knees, my
bottomhole filled up with his seed, having it actually leak out of me
and run down the backs of my thighs, seeing the marks where he’d made me
feel his whip. And, strangely, I liked being watched by him, loved,
spoilt. Sherry ran her hand through my hair and tousled it, like a man
might tousle the hair of a little child whose fallen, as if to say,
‘there, it’s not so bad. It happens to everyone. Now get up and on
with your life.’
Jeff reached down and grabbed me beneath my arms. With one
pull he yanked me straight up to my feet. My boobs jumped and bobbled
on my chest. I gasped. My hips fell forward, presenting my bush to the
wall. I tottered, finally found my balance. He slapped my bottom hard
to wake me up. I was a newborn, newly in the world after my first real
heavy-duty, butt wrenching fucking. I winced, howled, at the pain of
his slapping palm.
“Oooh, don’t!” I scolded. He did not hit me again. He liked
letting me have a little power. He turned me carefully around and with
Sherry’s help we walked slowly out from the maze of equipment. Jeff’s
penis bounced merrily, not stiff but not deflated, still tantalized by
all the youthful female flesh he had at his disposal. We were, indeed,
his to do with as he pleased.
“Jeff, let’s go upstairs and take a break,” Sherry suggested.
Jeff yawned.
“Alright, but we’re coming back down here,” Jeff said. “No
excuses. I’ve got you both (he looked at Sherry) for the entire
weekend. Kelly doesn’t get sent back home until Monday morning.”
Sherry smiled and showed no disappointment. I think she was
starting to like me as a real person, instead of just as someone who
could be brought into their marriage to make her husband happy, or to
satisfy some kinky longing they both felt to share themselves with a
third person.
“She can stay, dear, provided we go to the beach next weekend
and pick up a boy,” Sherry said. Jeff looked at her. I watched in
amazement as these two lovers, this husband and his wife, clashed a
little. Her eyes were dark, fiery. His were a little glazed. He was
satisfied. He’d gotten to shoot out his sperm and his fight was spent
for the moment. I had no doubt he could be a very demanding master,
insisting on his way in all things but, like most men (I guessed!) he
was so satisfied and sated right now he had no desire to argue.
“Alright,” Jeff said. His penis actually grew a little as he
said it. Did he like the idea of seeing a young man poke himself into
his wife? Did he have some deep, repressed fantasy of poking the young
man himself? I didn’t know.
We stepped up to the ladder. Jeff climbed up first. I watched
his hairy butt as he climbed. He needed to go first because neither
Sherry or I were strong enough to lift up the trap door. His balls
swung merrily as he climbed. They’d been strung up tightly to his
groin, full of passion, when we’d come down. Now they just swung
aimlessly, loose and spent. His dick was retracting. It dripped precum
down on us as he went up the ladder.
There was a slow screech of hinges as the door protested being
lifted. Jeff puffed out his breath, pushed harder, and at last got the
better of the heavy door. It fell with a bang against the floor in the
study. I could see nothing above. The sun had set. The house was
dark.
“OW!” Jeff bumped his head on the ceiling trying to find his
way out through the opening. Sherry and I giggled. We really were
prisoners down here. I hoped Jeff never had a heart attack fucking us.
We’d starve, with nothing but a half-eaten cake to feed ourselves on
until we finally expired.
I went up the ladder next. Sherry stayed below to follow me,
and help me if I needed it. I’d never climbed up before. She had Jeff
had played down here before, and knew their way back up in the dark
better than I did. Behind me, below me, the candles in the dungeon were
burning low. Jeff and Sherry’s one sop to cleaning up had been to flick
off the lights at the back of the dungeon. In a dwindling pool of
candlelight I climbed up the twelve foot ladder and, just as I had to
scoot through the trapdoor’s opening, Jeff flicked on the lights in the
study.
I poked my head up through the opening in the floor. I was
greeted by the sight of Jeff’s penis. I looked up at it with childish,
innocent eyes. He was big even when he was spent. Then, elf-like, I
ascended into his world. He took my arm and lifted me the final foot.
I landed on my feet in his study. It was as if he’d just lifted me off
of some carnival ride.
Sherry came up behind us. I turned as her head broke through
the opening and felt a strange sensation as she was greeted, looking up,
by the sight of my bare bottom. She climbed the rest of the way
herself, stood, tossed her hair back from her face.
“Well, wasn’t that fun?” Sherry smiled. She stood back from
the dungeon’s opening so Jeff could bang the door back down into place.
She bent and pulled the throw rug over it. Now it was disguised.
Nobody knew. For all the world this was just a study filled with law
books and guides to our state’s penal code. And, in the corner, I saw
Jeff had started to pick up some medical books. They seemed to be
mostly about girls; how they worked and functioned and birthed and grew
breasts and had periods. Girls and Women, their bodies, their parts,
but not, it seemed, what they thought or felt about their bodies and
parts. Just how they worked. Men see us as bodies, I guess. Bodies to
be fucked and spermed and made pregnant with their seed. It’s up to us
to figure out the rest. I drew close to Sherry and sought her hand.
She accepted it. At least we had each other. Jeff hustled us out of
his study and closed the door.
“Call Angela,” he said to Sherry.
“I will, honey,” Sherry replied. “The maid,” she said to me.
“We gave her a cell phone so she could come up and clean for us whenever
we need it.” We drifted down the hall to the kitchen and Sherry picked
up a cell phone and dialed their maid. Jeff picked up a banana. He
peeled it and squirted it with a bottle of honey. He came close to me
and put it to my lips.
“Jeff, don’t you ever think about anything else?” I asked him.
I smiled but I was a little baffled. He simply used the opportunity of
my speaking to force me to take the banana. He made me eat it all the
way down to the end. I heard Sherry talking to Angela as I was
force-fed the banana. When she hung up and turned around she saw me
with my cheeks bulging with the fruit.
“Always playing with my hubby, hmmm?” Sherry asked me
accusingly. She reached out and pinched one of my nipples.
“Owww!” I said. I was helpless between them. Jeff made her
relent and together we went to the bathroom in thier master bedroom. We
showered together. There was a little intimacy, but mostly we just
wanted to get clean. Sherry had me bend over in the shower and she used
a special spray nozzle to hose out my bottom. Poor Jeff. His seed did
not breed babies in me but instead got washed down the drain.
We stepped out, toweled off. “When we’re ready to go again
I’ll have you take a pill,” Sherry said to me. “I do NOT want you
pregnant with my husband’s sperm.” She turned to Jeff. “We should have
been more careful, honey.” Then she frowned a little. She poked him in
his belly. “You wouldn’t mind getting her pregnant, would you? It
would just give you an excuse to have two wives and start a harem!”
Jeff just grinned. He was no ‘man of the 90’s.’ He was an
old-fashioned guy. Girls were put on this earth to be possessed and
fucked. Sherry put her hand between his legs and drew out her husband’s
penis. It was still long, even after he’d shot all he had into me. She
regarded it. This was the organ of the man she’d married; her organ as
much as his. Hers to put to use in making children for the two of
them. “I ought to cut this off, you naughty, lusty boy!” Sherry said
spitefully. Did she guess he might try to see me after our one weekend
together? She turned to me and slapped my tummy. “Just one weekend
together,” she warned me. “Just one. This cute little tummy of yours
is NOT going to swell up with my husband’s sperm, no matter what. I’ve
got plenty of coat hangers, honey!” Sherry said. I think she was
feeling a little frustrated because I’d gotten her husband’s all down in
the dungeon.
Jeff put a hand behind each of our necks. He reached right
through our long, thick tumbling hair and gripped us hard.
“Girls, we’re going to bed,” Jeff said. And with that he
turned us both around so we faced the door. He marched us straight into
the bedroom, our tits bouncing like melons. He made us pull back the
covers of his big bed and he put us into it.
Sherry and I each fell asleep with a new dog collar around our
neck. We were chained by our necks to the bedposts on either side of
Jeff. He owned us, we were his. He fell asleep snoring and we had to
content ourselves to liking his protection. His arms encircled us and
his cock, perhaps dreaming of us as he slept, began to grow again.
In the darkness I awoke. I had to go to the bathroom. What
could I do? Did I dare to wake Jeff? I didn’t want to pee in their
bed. I saw a shadow move past the bedroom door. Eyes peered in. I
started. My hand flew to my throat.
A voice asked, “Is anything to be cleaned in here?” It was
Angela!
“N-No,” I whispered in response. We were still squeaky clean
from our bath. We had just started playing in here.
A cloud stole back from the moon. Its light thrust into the
bedroom and all was illuminated. My figure, quite nude, lay upon the
sheets. The night had warmed. Our coverlet and sheet had been thrown
back in our sleep to keep ourselves from getting hot. Angela stared in
at me. The tips of my breasts poked skyward. My tummy was flat despite
my playing and my hips were trim, still a little childish, waiting to
fill out. My bush was newly fleeced and my legs were long, with slim
ankles. Around my neck, quite embarrassing for me at the moment, was a
dog collar, chained to a post of the bed. I put my hands to my pussy
and held myself, lest I pee on the sheets.
“Unlock... unlock me,” I whispered to Angela.
“I mustn’t,” she answered.
“I...” Could I say it to this ancient woman? She had a kind
of dignity despite her years. She looked in at me like my grandmother
might have. “I... I have to pee,” I said.
“I mustn’t,” she said again, her voice more insistent. She
turned away. I bit my lip. I felt a sudden onrushing of need. And
then, quite suddenly, it happened. I peed in the bed!
I heard Angela go out. The front door shut and she locked it.
Jeff turned, almost awoke, but fell asleep again. I think you only wake
up at night if you pee yourself. If somebody else pees, you might or
might notice it, like you don’t notice a bed wet with sweat until you
awake in the morning. Jeff began snoring again. Sherry, opposite me,
did not stir at all.
I lay there in the darkness, feeling awful. But, at last, I
rolled atop Jeff. He did not awaken. I was light. Perched safely atop
him, I at last fell asleep again.
“Who wet the bed?!” Sherry hollared. I woke. I turned my head
sleepily. I was about to admit that I had when she blamed her husband.
“Jeff, PLEASE don’t just make a mess whenever you feel like
it,” Sherry exclaimed. “I know you’re a very happy husband and I do
everything just for you, but don’t just pee without bothering to get
up!!!”
“I- gosh, did I do that?” Jeff asked himself aloud. Then he
burped. That seemed to seal his fate.
“You are nothing but a big, hairy BEAST!” Sherry cried. She
pushed him away from her.
I gulped. Should I tell the truth? I felt sorry for Jeff
getting blamed for my pee.
“Anyway,” Sherry continued. “I have to go very badly myself,
Jeff. Get the key and unlock this damn dog collar you’ve got me in!”
“No,” Jeff said simply. He rose up from our bed. He was not
chained. He walked to the bathroom and was about to pee into the toilet
when, on an inspiration, he returned. “I want to watch you pee,” he
said to myself and Sherry.
“Jeff, we can pee on a tarp or something but we can’t just pee
in our bed,” Sherry replied.
“Alright, in the yard then,” Jeff said.
“In the yard?!” Sherry exclaimed.
“Yep,” Jeff answered. He unchained our chains from the
bedposts but not from us. He would use them as leashes to take us
outside. “It’s early,” Jeff said. “The people next door won’t see.
Maybe the boy, but not his parents. Let’s go.”
“What about the girl?” Sherry asked. “What about their
daughter?”
“She’s growing nice tits,” was all Jeff said in reply.
He took us outside. It had cooled again and the morning was
chilly. It looked as if it had rained during the night. The grass had
a frosting of dew on it. The bushes glistened with droplets. Sherry
and stepped barefoot onto the grass. We’d taken our heels off to get in
the shower the night before. We were utterly naked now, save for our
collars. Like cats we stole across the lawn, hoping not to wake the
neighbors. Our master, Jeff, made us walk out to the farthest bush.
There, amidst a bed of tulips, he made us squat down.
“Water the flowers,” he said simply. Sherry and I, squatting
rudely on the lawn, the tulips springing up around us, spread the lips
of our cunts with our fingers and let out our pee.
I saw a windowshade rise up on the second floor of the house
next door. “Oh, Jeff!” Sherry hissed. There were tears in her eyes.
Someone watched as she and I peed like female animals.
We stood up. Sherry tossed her hair back from her face to try
to regain her composure.
“Damn toilet. Never works when it’s supposed to,” Jeff
announed for the neighbors. He stopped in front of a tree and pissed on
it casually, deliberately, as if he’d saved up his pee just to give this
tree what it deserved. Then he took us inside.
We bathed again. Jeff permitted Sherry and I a long luxurious
bath, together, in the tub. After we were done he took a quick shower
while we dressed in clothes he’d laid out for us.
Angela came. We greeted her in tight little waist corsets.
They did nothing to hide our breasts, our pussies. They simply
constricted our tummies, perhaps so we wouldn’t conceive. A small
bib-like skirt flared at the back of our corsets. Although it hinted at
being a skirt it hid nothing. Our bare white bottoms were as impudent
as ever. Pink lines still crisscrossed them where Jeff had stung us the
night before with his whip. Sherry and I wore long thigh-high stockings
on our legs. They were white, patterned with delicate designs of lace,
sheer except where the designs were. I felt special with my legs
sheathed in these stockings. Glossy silver heels lifted my feet and
held them buckled within straps. The stockings stayed up by
themselves. They needed no garters.
“One of us peed in the bed,” Sherry told Angela. She had begun
to suspect me instead of Jeff. I was, after all, only 14. I think she
knew she’d been wrong to blame her husband; how, I don’t know. Perhaps
it was just her endless envy of me. I’d peed in their marriage bed.
The bed where she’d been taken as a new bride, I’d defiled it. Did she
harbor some evil intent toward me now? I couldn’t tell. Jeff would
protect me, I hoped.
Angela went into the bedroom and began cleaning up. Sherry and
I, gift-wrapped in our new corsets, went to the breakfast room where
Jeff was just starting to eat the oatmeal banana pancakes we’d fixed for
him. Sherry said she’d picked banana pancakes because they made a man
long and hard. We both knew that as soon as his balls were nice and
full again he’d take us downstairs to the dungeon. She wanted her turn
with him now. I would be helpmate, unless Jeff, at the last minute, as
he had the night before, decided to fuck me again.
Sherry and I sat down with Jeff and began eating our pancakes.
Jeff ate in the nude. He made no attempt to hide his nudity. I peeked
under the table and saw, to my heartbeating surprise, that the banana
pancakes were having their effect. He was big again, full and thrusty
and with his balls slowly rising up toward his groin.
“Jeff’s hard,” I said with a gasp to Sherry after I’d pulled my
head back up.
“Good,” Sherry said. “We’ll take our pills after breakfast.”
“You both still need to get spanked,” Jeff said to us.
“Jeff, that was YESTERDAY,” Sherry said in a surprised,
pleading voice. “Let’s just play downstairs, okay?”
“We’ll do as I say, nothing more, nothing less,” Jeff
answered. He looked at Sherry. “Go get the handcuffs,” he said.
“Jeff! Not while Angela’s here,” Sherry begged. But Jeff
insisted and she rose and went to their bedroom and returned with two
pair of steel cuffs. She made me put my wrists out and she locked them
on me. Then, giving me her pair, she made me lock her within her
cuffs.
We were forced to finish our breakfast wearing police
handcuffs. Mercifully, they were lined with fur, but it made it no
easier for us to eat or to do the dishes afterwards. When we let Angela
out, so she could go home again, it was with blushing faces. It was bad
enough being nude in front of her. Actually being handcuffed for an
impending punishment was even more embarrassing.
“I used to throw a bathrobe on whenever she came over,” Sherry
admitted to me after Angela left. “But Jeff made me show myself naked
to her so many times that I finally gave up.” She looked at her
husband. “But he never, NEVER made me show myself to her like this!”
“She saw us chained to the bed last night,” I told her. Sherry
looked at me. “That’s different. I was asleep. I didn’t know,” she
said.
“Girls,” Jeff intoned. He stood before us with a hard cock and
a switch in his hand. It was long, wrapped in leather and quite
flexible. Too flexible. Made to bite at the first contact with skin.
He’d let Angela see him holding it, his cock hard, demanding pleasure.
“It’s time for your correction,” he said. “Please come with me.” He
stopped, turned around. “And Sherry,” he said. “You will want to be as
obedient as you can. I have a fantasy of stopping our car outside the
Mexican squatter’s camp and taking you in to Angela and having her beat
you... Or beating you myself in front of all of them. They would enjoy
it, I think!” He laughed. Sherry screamed. And I knew that they would
enjoy it, seeing this proud, young white woman, his wife, beaten right
in front of them.
He took us into his study and lifted the trapdoor. It was
awkward climbing down with our handcuffs on. When we reached the floor
and Sherry, guided by a flashlight shone by Jeff, had lit the new tapers
placed in the wall by Angela, we saw an astonishing sight. All our
roses that we’d clipped the day before were laid neatly round a cake.
It was a big wedding cake, frosted with white frosting and bedecked with
candied flowers.
“I hope you girls have a sweet tooth,” Jeff told us. “There
are two giant dildoes buried inside that cake and you’re both going to
eat them out. He whacked his switch against the chair with no seat.
“Get busy! Use the champagne to wash the cake down. And try not to
make a mess. Messy girls will be whipped extra hard for not having
proper table manners.”
“Jeff, there’s no chairs, no knives, no forks, no plates...”
Sherry said.
“Young wives, and wives to be (he looked at me) shouldn’t have
any problem eating without being messy. What do you girls do all day if
not practise being neat? Get going, girls. This is our wedding cake
and you’re BOTH going to be my wives!” Sherry spun round, stared at
him. “Wives for the weekend, that is,” he assured her.
“Jeffrey you’re lucky you DON’T have a knife down here,” Sherry
admonished, regarding her husband’s dick.
“For the weekend!” he protested. He seemed taken aback that
he’d angered her. Then he swung his switch and sliced it menacingly
through the air. It made a whistling sound. It came very close to
Sherry and I.
“Make your mouths busy, wives!” Jeff said. And Sherry and I,
dressed in our little corsets that constricted our tummies, with our
long stockings on that decorated our legs, our wrists awkwardly cuffed,
went dashing over to the cake and began eating it as best as we could.
Our heads bobbed as we pressed our faces into the frosting, trying not
to be messy. I was aware of icing in my long, lovely blonde hair and
knew at once I’d fail Jeff’s rules. His crop, ever more menacingly,
tasted the air just inches from my behind.
I bit into the cake. I tried not to scrape my bosoms against
the side of it but I felt my nipples graze the frosting. I tried
licking just the surface, holding my bosoms back.
Jeff’s switch stung my heinie. “Yeeeouch!” I cried and stood
bolt upright. The worst of it was that I couldn’t reach back and cover
myself. I was forced to wiggle my bare bottom in front of him, my hands
cuffed in front of me. The pain flared along the single line he’d
impressed, then subsided gradually. Sherry laughed at me. I looked
foolish.
“You must eat out the dildoes from the center of the cake,”
Jeff told me. “Don’t be a slacker. Don’t make my wife do all the
work. Your dildo is in there just as hers is. You can’t get at it by
simply licking the icing.”
“Well, I’m not real eager to get mine out of the cake,” I
said. My eyes were anguished from the searing sting he’d given me
across my fanny.
“You’ll be eager if I tell you you’ve got ten minutes to eat
your way down to it or get a fierce whipping over the trestle,” Jeff
replied. “And one more thing. Don’t cup your hands to your breasts.
This is a wedding cake. You’re eating out your wedding dildoes. Make
your pussies wet by massaging your clits while you eat. Hurry, girls!
I won’t wait past ten minutes!” He slashed the whip at us, barely
missing both our tushies. Sherry and I bolted forward, pressed our
cheeks down into the cake. “Remember, neatness counts!” Jeff reminded
us. “Messy brides deserve messy bottoms!”
“Oh, this is awful!” Sherry confessed. She lifted her face and
I saw tears welling in her eyes. Her cheeks were decorated with cake
crumbs. Her lips were ridged with white frosting. There was frosting
on her nose, and I looked no better. Freely we fingered our slits,
knowing Jeff was watching and judging our every move. I wiggled my
fanny from the stinging I still felt from his remorseless switch. He
was swinging it most deliberately and impatiently behind us, each swish
now almost grazing our fannies. We had to be constantly watchful of
him. One mis-step backward and we were sure to find ourselves howling
at the tops of our lungs. “Jeff, I can’t eat this much cake!” Sherry
cried.
“Spit it on the floor if you like,” Jeff said. “Just keep
burrowing your way down toward those dildoes. Eight minutes, girls!”
Sherry sobbed and bit more deeply into our wedding cake. I let my
breasts smoosh into the side of the cake and hoped Jeff didn’t punish me
then and there for being so messy. From the corner of my eye I could
see Sherry smiling a little, to herself, despite her tears. The
awfulness of our plight had a certain allure. Jeff was so hard, and so
close, and so dominant and powerful. If only he would put down that
switch, I think we both could have borne our cuffs and even the
messiness of the cake quite happily. But he wanted more, more than we
could handle, as men often did. Sherry and I kept at our task, licking
and biting our way down into the cake.
Suddenly I bit and found my teeth clamping on hard rubber. I’d
found my phallus! A shock ran down my spine and I felt again the pain
of Jeff violating my bottom the night before. I licked the tip. Yes,
it tasted of rubber. I looked down inside the half-eaten cake. The
nose of a huge penis stared up at me, like some missile in its silo,
waiting to destroy us all.
Sherry found her phallus. Together we worked, still frigging
our slits, letting our breasts mush into the cake, digging out our
phalluses with our teeth and tongues.
“Such messy little girls,” Jeff told us when, finally, we
presented ourselves to him, holding the phallus each of us had dug out
between our teeth. We were like dogs with lost bones. Standing before
him, each of us holding a huge penis in our mouth, we were still
required to rub our pussies. He gazed at our cake-crumbed faces and the
frosting on our noses, our eyelashes, and in our hair. We had frosting
on our bosoms and our bellies. I even had some in my pubic hair.
“Well girls,” Jeff said. “It seems you’ve found something to
play with in our cake. Sherry, bend over and grab the side of this
chair. I want to see Kelly fuck you. Not with your hands holding the
dildo, Kelly,” he added. “Keep the dildo between your teeth and shove
it up Sherry’s twat. You girls may need to entertain yourselves if I’m
away from home. You may as well learn how to do it now.”
Sherry tried to protest, but Jeff pushed her in front of the
chair with no seat and made her bend down over one of its arms. Still
clutching her dildo in her mouth, he made her arch up her fanny and
offer it to me. I got behind her reluctantly. I was wary of Jeff’s
switch and knew any disobedience on my part would change the game
entirely, with Sherry laughing as I received a switching from Jeff over
the trestle. It stood silently nearby, cuffs open and waiting. There
was a cushion atop it to give a girl something comfy to rest her tummy
on but, of course, with her fanny sticking out she would hardly be
thinking about her tummy!
Sherry, as mindful of Jeff as I was, rested her cheek on the
arm of the chair. She looked ridiculous with a big dildo sticking out
of her mouth! She was already playing with herself and now she spread
her cuntlips for me so I could fuck her. I had the head of my dildo in
my mouth and Jeff permitted me to stop frigging myself so I could put
the base of the dildo into my mouth instead. My fingers were slick with
my dew. I got my mouth round the base and then nosed the front of the
dildo towards Sherry’s twat.
“Shove it right in. Don’t spare her,” Jeff told me. I
certainly didn’t want to find my face pressed up into another girl’s
cunt but I didn’t mind giving her the dildo. I was worried about
myself, not her. I pushed the dildo against Sherry’s slit. I could
smell the sweet muskiness of her slit, even with my face still a foot
away. Sherry gasped, tensed. I shoved the dildo hard. I didn’t want a
switching. My hinds were lofted up at Jeff as if they were on display,
and he was swinging his switch impatiently.
The dildo breached Sherry’s cunt. She mewled, her lips round
her own dildo, gagging her. I pushed harder. She tried to get up but
Jeff cautioned her not to. Deeper within her I shoved the dildo, and
she trembled as she felt it going up her. “No,” I think I heard her
say, but there was such a fullness of rubber prick jammed in her lips
she couldn’t speak even that one word clearly. I pushed, pushed again.
“Now make it go in and out. Fuck her with it,” Jeff instructed
me. My eyes widened. I could hardly bear the lewdness of it all. I
drew back the dildo with my teeth. Sherry gasped a relieved sigh and
then tensed again, knowing I must assault her anew. In I shoved it once
more, deep, deeper, trying to shove it right up to her womb where she
hoped to make babies for Jeff.
“Augh!” Sherry cried. She dropped the dildo from her mouth.
It fell clattering into the chafing bowl beneath the chair that had no
seat.
“You’ll be punished for that,” Jeff told her. Wickedly I went
deep as I could into her, then pulled back, then forced my way up her
again. I was fucking another woman with my mouth! It was incredible,
feeling this older girl moan and buck under me, still playing with
herself, as I forcibly took her pussy. In and out I went, then more,
then faster, really giving it to her now. At the same time I fucked
myself with my fingers. Moaning, crying, we lurched at last over the
edge of orgasm, cuming almost as one, and I found myself kissing her
bottom, the dildo abandoned, stuck up her twat. Jeff slashed my bottom
for my forgetfulness. I howled, kissed Sherry’s bottom, tried to
repossess my dildo but found I was so lost in bliss I could only accept
his strokes and finger myself and kiss within Sherry’s cunny and
bottomcrack. I found her hole, I pierced it with my tongue, thinking in
my bliss I was doing her as Jeff wished.
I stood uncuffed with my hands rubbing my wounded bottom.
Sherry, her face bathed clean with a towel and her hair neatly pinned up
by Jeff, sat in the chair with no seat. Despite washing our faces for
us and pinning up Sherry’s hair, Jeff was still beastly. He intended to
fry Sherry’s bottom!
“Oh, Jeff,” Sherry begged, but a gag clung to her lips and she
could not speak. The gag distorted her words. Still wearing her little
corset, laced tight with bows and decorated with ribbons, still in her
lovely stockings, she was nonetheless fixed with her arms pinned to the
arms of the chair. Her bottom bulbed over the chafing dish. She was
quite bare there, nothing protected her fanny although great care had
been taken to bind her arms to the chair arms and her belly into her
corset. Her ankles were not only bound into her shoes but were now
pinned, like her arms, to the chair. The rest of her could move
freely. She rolled her head atop her neck, watching Jeff’s every move.
She looked down and watched him arrange the coals in the chafing dish.
He squirted them with lighter fluid. He walked to a shelf on the wall
and took down a box of matches.
“Now, little lady, you’re going to have a pair of toasted buns
for me to feast on,” Jeff grinned. It was not a pleasant grin. Sherry
let tears run down her cheeks. I stood beside her, watching nervously.
I wondered if he’d find some infraction to punish me with when he was
finished with her.
Sherry’s bottom was white. She’d not been whipped and she kept
it out of the sun, though her limbs were smoothly tanned. Jeff lit a
match. Sherry watched as he put it to the coals beneath her and,
suddenly, they flared up.
“YeeeeOOOOCH!” Sherry cried. She bolted up, lifting her bottom
like a rabbit fleeing a car. The chair was extremely solid and heavy
and there was no way she could budge it. In any event, the chafing dish
was part of the chair, sitting in the crisscrossing timbers of wood that
connected the chair legs. With her legs bound wide apart, and her arms
pinned to the arms of the chair, Sherry could do nothing but bounce up
and down in her bonds. The flames from the chafing dish licked upward.
Her bush, her cunny, her ass were all exposed. I wondered if it was
singed pubic hair that I smelt, or just the burning coals themselves.
Sherry strained to remain standing but the minute she shot up to escape
the flames Jeff was ready for her. Standing beside the chair, he
brought his switch smartly down between her thighs. It curled between
her open legs and stung her against her precious cunny. Immediately she
withdrew, trying to sit again, only to find herself assailed by the
flames and forced to stand. Caught in this netherworld of pain, Sherry
cried for mercy and, through her gag, promised to love and obey her
husband all her life, never crossing him. He relented at last. He
tossed water over the coals and they released a misting of hot steam.
Sherry sat down and sobbed, her bottom barely supported by the ledge at
the back of the chair. Gently Jeff unbuckled her. He lifted her out of
the monstrous chair. She cried freely. She turned to me for comfort.
I held her a moment. Then I turned her around to examine her fanny.
The flames had streaked her ass with red but she seemed otherwise
unhurt. I took her to the table and sat her on it, ignoring the cake.
She sat down amidst bits of cake and frosting. I hoped the frosting, at
least, felt cool upon her bottom. Attentively I examined her pussy and
rubbed vaseline into it. She squirmed. I made her keep her legs open.
Jeff had been merciful with the switch and had not wounded her too
badly. Some marks pinkened her labia lips. She swooned as I rubbed
warm oil into her clit.
“Now it’s your turn,” Jeff told me. I froze. He drew me from
Sherry and she was forced to attend to herself. I walked with
frightened eyes and hesitant steps over to a low table. It was covered
with felt.
“Lie down,” Jeff told me. “Don’t worry, the felt’s
fireproof.” I lay down on the felt. It was very soft. It would have
been a lovely resting spot except for the hole cut ominously out where
my bottom rested. There was nothing under my fanny except this hole,
and down, within the hole, there was a brazier. It had coals in it,
waiting to be lit. Jeff arranged me on the table so that I lay with my
knees bent, my calves tucked under my thighs. He made me spread my
thighs so that my pussy showed completely. My elbows were pulled up
toward my ears, with my forearms pressed into the table.
Sherry walked over to me. She was rubbing oil all over her
pussy and she looked down at me with soft, pitying eyes. Her face was
stained with tears. Jeff made her buckle me down to the table. Despite
the oiled slickness of her fingers she managed to get all the buckles
and straps closed over my limbs. My ankles were strapped down but my
legs were left otherwise free. My wrists were similarly affixed but my
arms were left free beyond that. Each strap was slim and there were
two, not one, for each of my wrists, as if the designer of this awful
table had wanted to keep a certain artfulness in its design. Lastly
Sherry undid my waist corset, and drew it off me. She kissed my tummy.
She did not take off my stockings. Jeff leered at me from the base of
the table. He enjoyed the sight of my utterly exposed slit. He lit a
match and reached beneath the table.
“Aaaaaaak!” I cried. My lips were free to speak. Jeff watched
the O of my mouth as I struggled above the awakened coals. Flames
licked up through the hole, not quite reaching the opening but too close
for comfort, and forced me to buck my bottom upward. Frantically I
strove to keep my hips arched above the flames. After straining up for
a few moments my strength would fail me and I would fall with my fanny
back down into the hole, only to rise again as the burning flames
assailed my derriere.
Sherry laughed. She was weeping, but she couldn’t help
laughing at how rudely exposed I was, how helpless, with my tits
bouncing atop my chest and my ribs heaving and my ass literally inches
from the flames. They toasted my heinie and I felt as desperate as a
woman giving birth, heaving and bucking and straining as Jeff and
Sherry, like doctor and nurse, watched me. Sherry saw a moist towelette
lying near the table, perhaps put there by Angela just in case, and she
ripped it open and bathed my forehead with it.
“Oh, please stop!” I cried. But Jeff just watched, enjoying
the sight. Sherry, having suffered a similar fate, had no wish to see
me escape. As she bathed my forehead she kept touching her poor abraded
pussy. Jeff had seen to it that she should never have anything there
but a gash.
In my agonies, feeling the flames and with Sherry petting me, I
imagined I was a girl in Egypt, having her clit cut away. I moaned and
pleaded. I screeched at the top of my lungs and promised to be good.
At last, feeling merciful, Jeff doused the coals and I felt a rush of
hot steam scald my bottom. Whimpering, I settled back onto the table.
I felt my bottom sink through the hole in the table and did not try to
stop it. Jeff lifted me off the soft felt and kissed me and held me.
Sherry squirted lotion on my bottom and rubbed it briskly. I was rosy
cheeked in back, nothing more. I’d escaped unharmed, but I was sighing
and weeping and my chest was heaving with fright. Jeff held me close
and I felt my bosoms press into his hairy chest. His manhood rose
between my legs and I felt it bump against my twat.
“Ohhh, please don’t hurt me!” I sobbed. I bit into the flesh
of his chest and he flinched and I tried to draw blood. Carefully, he
separated my teeth from his body. He kissed my lips.
“Silly girl, I’m only training you,” he said gently. I cried
more loudly and Sherry, sensing I was pitying myself just to please him,
gave my poor bottom, glossy with lotion she’d just applied, a firm slap.
Jeff felt me bounce against him as Sherry’s slap hit my
bottom. I emitted a heartfelt cry of pain into his ear. He gripped me
tightly. His hands, hard and calloused, slid down over my pampered
bottom and held my cheeks wide apart, exposing my hole. Sherry lurked
behind me. I trembled from my head to my toes, fearing a new assault by
her. But the rest of my ass, held in Jeff’s palms, was protected. How
awkward to be so nicely protected, yet left with my hole open and
vulnerable! And the man who was now keeping me from being slapped again
by Sherry was the same man who’d just tried to burn my bottom off!
I wept. The emotions were too much for me. Yet as I wept,
wanting to break free of Jeff and, at the same time, relishing the feel
of his holding me, not letting me escape, I was aware of his penis. It
was deathly hard, and jammed up between my legs. It ran from his groin
under my cunny and then, tantalizingly, stuck out behind my thighs,
where Sherry could admire his drooling, unemployed cockhead waiting for
permission to enter me.
“I want to be your master, and also your slave,” Jeff confided
hotly in me. He bent over me, whispering in my ear. I was on tiptoe
against him, yet my head only rose up to his shoulder. He had to bend
close to tell me his secrets. Sherry could not hear. “I want to work
you, to exert myself in you every day, forever...” Jeff said to me in a
rushed, hushed voice. “I want to be like a horse to you, and ride you
every day, fucking you, again and again, stopping only to rest a moment,
and then to begin again!” I swooned. I could picture what he wanted.
To be hard forever (it was possible with Jeff!) and to have me under
him, ramming himself into me, exerting himself in me, spilling his seed
in MY womb, just mine, not hers, over and over. As soon as his balls
would fill up again I’d be on my back again. I’d be his slave, but he’d
be mine. We would couple forever, never working, never even playing,
really. Just mating. The two of us doing our duty to each other. Our
reproductive duty.
Sherry bobbed from one side of us to the other. She was aware,
now, that Jeff was telling me something special. Something that might
not include her.
Jeff pushed me back and away from him. It was as if we’d
disagreed, from all outward appearances, and he’d shoved me away. But
we hadn’t. He’d breathed his lust to me and I’d sighed agreeable in
response, in between my tears.
“Take everything off,” Jeff said to both of us. His words were
words of command. Much in the dungeon had to do with commanding,
obeying. “Everything. Right down to and including your earrings.” We
did not deny him. We could not. We were just two frail, big-bosomed
girls, Sherry older, but still a teen, and me younger. We stripped
ourselves of all of civilization’s baubles. We were Indian maidens,
without even our feathers. We put our stockings and Sherry’s corset and
our earrings and heels in a little pile on the floor.
Jeff watched us with possessive eyes. When we were quite nude,
he left us standing together a moment. He went to a shelf along the
wall and picked up a sweatband and put it on. It would keep the
perspiration out of his eyes. Then he put on two wrist sweatbands.
Sherry and I, watching him, huddled together. We weren’t the best of
friends, but with his hard cock and his menacing eyes, Jeff made us both
feel like victims. On his way back, Jeff picked up his switch. He
stood before us and let the sight of his cock impose itself on us. We
were all nude, like babies or, more likely, the first man and (two!)
women in the world. Except instead of being in a garden, we were in a
dungeon. Jeff slapped the switch into the open palm of his free hand,
once, then again.
“Jeff, my ass still hurts from that hot seat you made me sit
on,” Sherry confessed.
“Mine too,” I piped up. I put my hand behind myself and
wondered if I hadn’t been licked a little by the flames, after all. We
were both pretty red-bottomed. I hoped we wouldn’t peel.
“It’s not your bottoms I’m interested in right now,” Jeff said
to us gruffly. “We’ve been playing without protection. I’m afraid I
may have made you girls pregnant. You’ve been totally remiss in taking
your pills. But there are other ways to make sure you don’t bear me
children I don’t want.”
With our hair still lovely, though unpinned, Jeff walked Sherry
and I over to a rape rack. It was made of lumber, boards that had been
worn down over many years until, in certain places, you could see where
the boards held a person bound to them. Sherry and I stood staring.
“This ‘rape rack,’ as its called, can be used for conception,
or to terminate a conception,” Jeff told us. A topmost bar, higher than
our heads, waited for upraised wrists to be bound against it. I reached
up, touched where the wrists of many past girls had been set firmly
against the wood. The board was smooth there. Instinctively Sherry
reached out and palmed, then held, the nearest cheek of my bottom as I,
on tiptoe, examined the place where the arms were bound. We were both,
I think, quite frightened of it, but she must have been put here at
least once before. Now we would, it seemed, share the experience. But
Jeff was not rushing, not pushing us. He was letting us drink in our
fate, perhaps even to agree to it?
“A girl,” Sherry began, then her voice broke off. She began
again, nervous. “A girl is bound against the wood with fresh vines from
the jungle, in the olden days, or now, with rubber cuffs,” Sherry
gulped. I could see that Jeff had his options with us. The arms could
be bound directly over the head, together, or wide apart. Below, where
a girl’s hips would hang, a board pushed them forward, so her tormenter
could amuse himself with the sight of her bare pussy shoved outward at
him. That board was also worn down, in the center, where my hips would
be, if I ‘accepted my mission,’ as a certain film might say. And,
lastly, the feet were not simply allowed to drop down to the floor. A
separate foot stool rose up on either side of the rack. There, spread
apart, a girl’s feet would be held open so that her cunny would be the
lowest point on her body.
“This is how a woman should give birth,” Sherry said to me.
“Upright, with her cunny split open. The baby simply falls out.
Gravity helps pull it out of her.”
“Yes,” I agreed. I ran my finger along the wooden beams. They
were big and old and had the aura of ancient wisdom about them. But the
cuffs, made of soft rubber, were new. Fresh chains with no weak links
promised to hold a girl remorselessly to the rack.
“It is used for birthing, but also for insemination?” I asked.
I turned and looked over my shoulder at Jeff.
“Right now it will just be used for an abortion,” Jeff
answered. I gasped.
“Jeff’s going to beat any baby you have right out of you,”
Sherry taunted me. Her fingers glided over my shoulders and then
dropped down to cup and offer my bosoms to him. She nudged me around so
that I faced him full on. She pinched my nipples. I gasped. I ran my
fingers over my tummy. It felt smooth, flat. But you could never be
sure, could you? Jeff’s penis stared up at me like a huge hose. It
throbbed, hungry with his desire. I almost felt certain, for a moment,
staring speechless at it, that it might spew sperm all over me at any
moment. And he’d already been inside me; albeit, considerately, in my
ass instead of my pussy. But you could never be sure, could you? Some
might have leaked thru, I guessed, between the membrane that separated
my back channel from my front.
“Doctor, our patient here thinks she might be pregnant,” Sherry
teased. She slid a hand over my tummy, poked in my belly button. Then,
stepping back suddenly, she slapped both my bottom cheeks hard.
“YEEEEEOWCH!” I cried. The flames had burnt my bottom a little
and her handslaps sent pain bursting through my hind cheeks. My palms
flew back. I cupped myself. My bosoms jutted out at Jeff and my cunny
arched forward as I clapped my hands to my bottom.
“Get her a towel,” Jeff ordered his wife. She grinned,
wickedly, and walked with her bottom rolling grandly to a shelf. There,
next to bottles of antiseptic and beneath a collection of neatly hung
whips, was a small stack of towels. She picked one up. It was white.
She returned to where I stood and unfolded it slowly for me. She let me
run my hand over it. It was fluffy.
“This will protect your back,” Sherry said. She wrapped the
towel several times around the central beam. It was a big towel and
when she was done wrapping it there was no question it would stay put.
“Upsie daisy,” Sherry said. She pushed on my bottom with her palm. I
did not want her to slap me again. I stepped up with one foot, then
both, on a low rung that hung, ladder like, near the base of the frame.
I think if I’d thought about the fact that I was mounting a rape rack I
would have run, or tried to escape, but my mind was awhirl with the
burning in my bottom and the stiffness of my teats and the tingling of
my cunny, with the closeness of Sherry, alternately my friend and foe,
and Jeff, too, my master and, somehow, my worshipper. He gazed with
awed eyes as I turned my back to the rape rack and fitted my 14-year-old
body into it. The uppermost beam was a little high. I had to stretch
to reach it, leaning back, seeing if I could. Just as I felt my fingers
touching the rubber cuff waiting there, Sherry intervened. Quickly,
before my inquisitiveness faded, she bound the cuff round my wrists so
that I could not escape. Next a soft collar was put round my neck and
my head was pinned back to a crosswise beam. It ran parallel to the one
my wrists were bound to. I felt the small of my back press against the
towel where my hips hit the central beam. My bottom hung below that
beam and, fearfully, I felt each of my feet lifted up and put on top of
one of the toadstool-like footrests. Quickly my ankles were bound with
soft cuffs to keep my thighs wide apart.
“Well, doctor, there you have her,” Sherry grinned at her
husband. I expected my tummy to have something bound over it, a wide
belt perhaps, but it was left quite exposed. Only my neck, my wrists,
and my feet were collared or cuffed. But to keep me wide apart Sherry
ran decorative black ribbons out from the sides of the rack and around
my bent knees. I hoped they wouldn’t hold me but, even if they broke, I
was so distended and open that I had little hope of closing myself. I
was squatting, but with my arms drawn so high and my hips so awkwardly
thrust out that I was as much hanging as squatting.
“Oh, you poor little cunt!” Sherry laughed. She ran a finger
over my cheek. Our bottoms were still red from being ‘toasted’ by Jeff
and I looked at her, hoping for mercy.
“Please, Sherry,” I breathed. My bosoms rose and fell with my
every gasping breath. “This is interesting but, I’m, I’m quite sure
I’ve had enough now,” I pleaded. My mom had sent me to a Catholic
elementary school and, strung up like this, I knew I was being too
unladylike even for a rebellious 14-year-old. I wished suddenly I was
sitting back in 3rd grade, clad in my little saddle shoes and my neat
blouse and dress. I’d count properly this time, and not make naughty
words with the alphabet letters.
“Dear, you must first learn to suck,” Sherry giggled. She and
Jeff were just making up games now, with me as their victim. She walked
casually to a shelf. There was no hurry. She picked up a huge dildo.
She walked back over to me but I was determined not to take it. I
feared she would make me choke on it.
Sherry pushed the dildo against my belly button. “I wonder if
I should shove this up your ass first, to make it nice and tasty,” she
asked me. “Or will you be a good girl and practise your sucking on it
just as it is?” A shiver ran down me. Sherry trailed the dildo up my
front, tapping my ribs, snaking it up between my breasts. As the tip
reached my lips and she pried my lips apart with it I felt a sudden
fullness in my belly.
“Suck, honey, or pay the consequences,” Sherry said. She
introduced the huge cock into my mouth and took hold of my neck in the
process. I was at her mercy. I tried my best to accpet the dildo, to
not gag on it, to let her ease it in and then out of my mouth, slowly,
training me. “You must suck very nicely if you’re ever to suck my
husband,” Sherry told me. Suddenly, with my hips arched out as the cock
was pushed into my mouth, I peed!
I could say nothing. The penis filled my mouth and kept me
from doing anything but breathe through my nose. But, mortified, unable
to cry or gasp with remorse, I felt my pee sprinkle down onto the hard
stone floor.
Sherry laughed, stepped back a little to keep from getting her
ankles splashed. All the while she kept giving me dick in my mouth,
making me accept the large penis even though I wanted it not at all.
What girl would want to have a big rubber phallus jammed in her mouth?
But I had no choice. They were husband and wife and I was just their
guest, picked for the weekend to entertain themselves with.
Jeff struck me hard on my tummy with his switch even as I was
still peeing. I bucked. My stream flung itself off course, then
caught, nothing coming, then started again. A long burning line
impressed itself along my belly, running across it. Jeff arched his
wrist in again and struck me anew. Part of the whip’s length stung my
thighs. They were pulled apart and yanked back, but still jutted
forward enough to catch part of the whip’s fury. Again and again Jeff
hit my tummy, sometimes hard, sometimes less hard, each stroke
deliberately placed as if to drive out of me any burgeoning eggs. I was
to leave without being enceinte. Next weekend they would play with some
one else. I was just a toy. Toys must not concieve.
Sherry drove the huge rubber penis in and out of my mouth.
Despite its hugeness it was infertile. Jeff held his cock back from me
and beat my tummy with his switch. They were husband and wife. It was
for them to couple and conceive, for Sherry to give birth. I was too
young. I must return to junior high and my school uniforms and
textbooks. I must not be a welfare mom at 14. But I wanted Jeff, Jeff,
Jeff. And he said he wanted me. Was he just torturing me to please
Sherry? Did he plan to come to me later, and fuck me privately? Did he
plan to sell Sherry at midnight to the mexicans to take down to Mexico
and make into a slave? My head spun and I felt each stinging, aching
blow of Jeff’s switch as he laid it over my womb. In my mouth I held a
replica of his cock, but no matter how hard I sucked it, it gave
nothing.
Wickedly, Sherry began tweaking my nipples. Oh, must those be
tortured too? They stuck out so fine and delicate and desperate. Was
she jealous of them? Hers were no less pretty, or excited. But she
tormented my nipples with her sharp fingertips, Jeff not stopping her.
I bucked against the rape rack. I wanted down! But always the switch
kept coming, and now Sherry’s wickedly teasing fingertips, and the huge
cock filling my mouth and making me suck it.
“Yes, darling, you are a good little girl after all. And
you’ll go home when the weekend’s over, won’t you?” Sherry asked me. I
had to nod ‘yes.’ I had no choice. Her fingers at my nipples made sure
I didn’t disagree. “Ah, we should have blindfolded her on the way up
here,” Sherry said to Jeff. “Then she would truly just be a toy.” She
kissed my cheek. “Take the whip away, dear, she has been good. You are
a good girl, Kelly,” Sherry told me.
Still making me suck on the big fake cock, Sherry ran her busy
fingertips down to my clit. With suave, feminine fingertips, but
demanding fingertips, stroked and pricked around and within my cunny.
She made me buck even harder against the rack. I was about to cum when
she suddenly drew her hand away.
“Naughty girl! Do you think I want your spendings all over my
hand?” Sherry asked me. She drew the fake prick from my lips and
slapped my face. Not hard, just playfully, but leaving me panting on
the rack with my belly and bottom burning and my mouth and cunny lips
longing.
“Jeff, let’s play,” Sherry said to her husband. She drew him
close, right in front of me. I could only look on helplessly as they
kissed. Her hand stole to his and she drew the switch from his gasp. I
stared with frightened eyes. Would she use it on me?
Their kiss ended. Sherry stepped back, inverted the switch so
she held the dangerous end in her palm, and prodded Jeff’s balls with
the handle. “You, sir, are very full,” she told him. He sighed. His
thing stuck out very big and quavering with his lust.
“Suck it,” he told her.
“Only if you give me a good fucking afterward and ignore that
little minx on the rack,” Sherry said to him.
“Alright,” Jeff breathed.
“Noooooo!” I cried. But it was too late. Sherry dropped at
once to her knees and took possession of him. Like a madwoman, fearful
of losing his sperm to my womb, she yanked on his cock and fisted him
and blew him as hard as she could with her lips. Jeff groaned. He
wanted to hold on. He’d promised his wife a sperming. Yet now, with
her mouth at his cock, Sherry seemed bent on making him explode.
A combat ensued. It could be called nothing else. Sherry
abused Jeff’s cock with her mouth and lips and hands as he struggled to
retain his seed. Sherry’s hips twisted back and forth as she crouched
before him. She obviously needed pleasure very badly but she did not
try to gratify her cunny with her hands. She kept all her attention on
Jeff’s cock and, seemingly, on making him spill right there, on the
floor or in her mouth, anything to keep him away from me, to deplete him
so that he would not wind up impregnating me. For, of us all, Jeff was
by far the strongest. He was male. We were just females. He could
order us about the dungeon at his whim. So Sherry, given this chance,
wanted to milk him. She did not want to risk losing him to me again.
I hung on the rack. I bucked my hips. I felt empty. Even my
mouth felt empty and remorseful. I wanted. I needed. I was spread
wide apart in a roomful of dildos and with a well-hung man, still
holding his seed, and yet I was without. I had only my open, empty
holes. And my little nipples, teasing me by sticking up like little
fake cocks. They looked like twin antennae, intent on recieving
broadcasts that did not come.
Sherry sat back suddenly on her heels. She looked dolefully up
at her husband. She took his huge, fat sausage-like prick in one hand,
doing her best to wrap her fingers around it. With her other hand she
steadied herself as she lifted her eyes up to his. “Honey!” she
whined. “I want you to cum now. Please don’t hold back.” She smiled.
She admired his strength. He gasped, looking down at her, watching as
she fingered his hard-on. With her free hand Sherry reached between
Jeff’s legs and palmed his balls. His sac was huge. She pushed up on
it with her small open hand. Then she closed her hand as best she could
over it.
“Darling, I’m going to milk you now,” Sherry said to her
husband. “I want to see your sperm shoot out and I want you to give me
everything you have. Just shoot it in my face. Don’t hold back. I
want you totally empty, so I don’t have to worry about you playing with
Kelly anymore. And I want her to be jealous, too. I want her to see
what a big husband I’ve got and how he just jets and jets when he cums.
And I want her to watch and know she can never, ever have even one drop
of you up inside her cunny.” She kissed the head of his cock. And
then, quite deliberately, she bit his head, not too hard, but just
enough to let him know she could be mean if she wanted to.
Jeff stood enthralled. Despite a quick “ouch” at being bitten,
he seemed to like seeing his wife torment his cock, even if it did mean
enduring an extraordinary pressure to release himself. And, it seemed,
as I watched now, she and he must have played this game before. She
tormenting him, begging him to cum, he holding out valiantly, impressing
her with his reserve and his strength.
“Doesn’t ANYTHING make you cum?” Sherry giggled. She tried
biting Jeff again. But, despite a tremble that seized his buttocks and
made them tense, he held on.
Sherry’s big boobs hung down all white and lovely, eager at
their tips for pleasure. Her tummy moved softly with her breathing. It
was flat and begged to be swollen with his seed, I thought, looking at
hers and feeling my own emptiness and my own need. Frankly now she let
one of her hands drop down to her cunny and she played with her
cuntlips. “Cum, Jeff, I’m waiting and ready for you,” Sherry teased.
She watched as her big man struggled with his cock in her hand, being
blown by her lips, yet holding out, somehow. I too felt mesmerized,
watching, but always my need throbbed within me and I had to gasp at
times with the painfulness of it. Needing pleasure, and not getting it,
is painful, in the end. A kind of overwhelming sexual starvation washes
over your erotic parts, and your head spins with lust. I couldn’t help
bucking again and again on my rape rack. Now I wished to be raped.
Please, somebody cum and stick your thing into me, anyone, and ram me
full of yourself. I didn’t care about anything else anymore. I peed
again on the floor, seeking relief, but found none. Sherry turned her
head, watched me a moment, laughed.
“Pee, then, honey, if you can’t cum,” Sherry urged her
husband. “Just pee right on me.”
“I can cum,” Jeff assured her. “You’ll get it right in the
face any moment I want to give it to you.”
“Then give it to me!” Sherry begged. Like a wanton whore she
mouthed his big cock and tried to stuff as much of him into her mouth as
she could. Jeff just watched, grinning, groaning, grinning again.
Their duel continued.
I was left on the rack, tears rolling down my cheeks, my ass
hanging down all naked and red and boldly exposed. Periodically I’d
arch my hips out, offering my cunt. It was open, like a flower, its
petal-like lips hungry for pollen. I gasped and cried out for love but
nobody heard. Down here, beneath the earth, the dungeon had been carved
to keep the moans of tormented lovers from ever reaching the ears of the
‘moral’ people up above. I wondered about Sherry and Jeff’s neighbors.
Did they even imagine that we were in a special room down beneath Sherry
and Jeff’s house, torturing each other with our lust? I could almost
hear the wife nagging her husband, he lecturing her in response, while
upstairs their son played video games and their daughter listened to
discs. She was hardly younger than me, dreaming of hunks while she
flipped through Tiger Beat or Seventeen. Yet I, down here, I was almost
beside myself with Jeff. He had bound me to this rack, made for rape,
he had handled me, exposed me, made me frantic, and now he displayed
himself, and his own desperation to me, quite openly, yet in such a way
that neither of us found relief. I yearned to switch places with her.
Let her show her breasts down here and let me retreat to the slumbering
innocent solitude of her room. But it was too late, too late, my pussy
told me. I must have what I came for, and it must cum inside me.
Sherry stood up. In a very business like fashion she clasped
her husband around the head of his cock, right behind the flange, so
that he could not escape her. She led him over to a waist-high pillory
and I saw, to my gasping surprise, that it was made not to clamp the
neck or the wrists, or even the ankles, but the penis.
Sherry lifted the upper half of the pillory up, to give Jeff
room to enter. She smiled as she lifted it. We girls didn’t come
equipped with anything to hold us to that particular pillory. It must
have been the only safe item for us in the entire dungeon. It could not
trap or keep us, but for men it was deadly.
“I wonder what these grooves are for?” Sherry smiled. She ran
a fingertip down the far side of the pillory. “A blade, don’t you
think, dear? Too bad it’s been removed. That would keep any husband
well-behaved.” With a grunt Sherry pushed her husband in the small of
his back. At the same time, she threaded his cock with her fingers
through the opening in the pillory. Jeff felt his balls bump up against
the side of the pillory closest to him. “Yes, dear,” Sherry pointed
out. “The blade goes on the far side of the wood, so that when it
slices down, removing the dick, the man’s balls are preserved.” She
tickled the underside of his hairy eggs, and I realized for myself why
the blade (or, rather, its grooves) ran down the opposite side of the
wood where Jeff stood. Guillotine-like, it could slice down, shortening
a man quite considerably. But if his balls were to be retained they
would hang safely on the side of the wood next to his body. Such
strange games some past couple must have played, when a guillotine blade
had actually been part of the pillory. Now only the hole remained.
With a firm, secure clap of wood upon wood, Sherry closed the
upper half of the pillory down on its lower half. Jeff winced. The two
halves would have been too snug for his cockhead to fit through, if kept
closed. So they’d been opened, he’d been put through, and they’d been
closed again. Now he was tightly held. The two halves of wood gripped
at the base of his cock like the encircling mouth of a baby. I could
see that his shaft bulged a little where it extruded from the far side
of the pillory. Separated from him, Jeff’s precious organ stuck out
like a stiff snake. He looked down at it.
Sherry tickled the underside of Jeff’s cock. “Is it too tight,
honey?” she asked. Her voice had a tone of mock sympathy in it. Yet I
knew she did not really want to hurt her husband. At least, I hoped she
didn’t. How awful it must have been for Jeff! He had a huge banana of
a cock, but now almost all of it was on the far side of the pillory,
choked at the base by the clamping wood, the rest left to quiver
untended, a hot dog in need of a bun.
“It’s... It’s tight but...” Jeff was awed by the fix his wife
had put him in.
“I’ll bet I could play with you all day and you’d never cum
now,” Sherry said playfully. She tickled Jeff’s penis and he groaned
and threw back his head. His buttcheeks, so slim and well-formed,
seemed to contract right into his body.
“I-I think you’d still see something shoot out if I came,” Jeff
said in a haggard voice. How delightful it must be to have a husband
and just play together, experimenting, I thought to myself. Sherry bent
low, mooning me with her bottom, and gave her husband’s prick a long,
mouthing kiss where his purplish head jumped at the air. When she arose
I saw that yet more of her lipstick had been smeared on his penis. And
little boys think they’ll never wear lipstick!
“Excuse me, honey, but I have to take a little break,” Sherry
said. She stood opposite her husband and, with loving eyes, began
rubbing her cunt with her fingers. She glanced at me. “This isn’t
exactly ladylike, is it?” she laughed. “But I can’t help it. I have to
have a little pleasure.” Jeff and I watched with anguished eyes for
several minutes as she played with herself. She enjoyed letting us
watch. Then, realizing an opportunity was right in front of her, she
faced her husband’s cock and introduced his head into her snatch.
“Well, dear, it looks like I’ve got the upper hand now,” Sherry
smiled at Jeff. “You WILL cum now, no question about it.” Slowly, she
drove the hard length of him up within herself. Jeff grimaced and
realized the battle was lost. I saw a little relief touch at the
corners of his mouth. He was captive, he could do no more. It was time
now for him to simply enjoy, and let himself go.
Sherry gasped as she felt the huge length of her husband’s
penis drive up within her. She was in control, yet he was so big, it
was like being in control of the empire state building. They were newly
married. She was still unused to his size. Yet she bit her lip and
soldiered on. When he was quite well up inside her, she began to draw
him back. Then, with him just at her lips again, she sunk on him anew.
She would have to manage the strokes because he was fixed in place. He
was like a steer, clamped down so that he could be used to sperm all the
cows. Sherry bucked her hips at him and rode him more freely as she
learned to accept him inside her body. Suddenly, as she played, her
eyes lit up. Jeff was cumming! Sherry pressed her lips right up to the
hole in the wood where his cock stuck through. She reached out and
hugged Jeff’s shoulders and, straining, they clasped one another. They
kissed awkwardly, with the wood between their loins yet his penis inside
her. Jeff came and came and came, his buttocks straining and compact,
his thing buried up inside Sherry where she could feel every last drop
of him flooding her uterus. Together they cried out. They were in
marital bliss, coupled, their loins working, hers clamping and sucking
and his thrusting and pumping.
When at last their course was run Sherry backed herself off of
Jeff’s cock. I watched with saddened eyes as he slowly deflated and, at
last, could simply remove himself from the pillory, without even asking
Sherry to lift up the top half. She brushed her hair back with her
fingers. A girl always looks classy doing that, even if she’s staring
at a man’s organ, wearing nothing herself, with sperm running down the
insides of her thighs. Sherry walked round to Jeff and clasped his
balls and his penis. She could cup both easily now. “I’m glad I didn’t
cut you off,” she smiled. “We do have a knife down here, you know.”
Jeff looked a little surprised. But he said nothing. He
kissed her instead, letting her dream of knives if she wished. She
squeezed his cock, his eggs, possessively. He was hers, after all,
wasn’t he? And she was his. Their kiss deepened and I was left to
watch with envy as they shared a long and intimate embrace.
The two of them looked at me when they finally separated. “Do
you think you could come up again so she could have her due?” Sherry
asked her husband. He nodded. “Then she must be taken home,” Sherry
said. Jeff nodded again. Rats.
Sherry walked up to me. She kissed me lightly on the lips and
ran a feathery hand over my forehead. “Just relax, dear. You’ll get
yours in a minute,” she said. I gasped and she kissed my whimpering
lips and walked away. Her bottom, lovely and full and seemingly
suspended atop her slim, column-like legs, rolled with womanly
satisfaction. She went to the table and picked up the empty bottle of
champagne. Grinning at me, she came back with it. She stood beside me
and put a finger within my mouth.
“Suck,” she told me. I tongued her. “This should help a
little,” she said softly, and put the neck of the bottle against my cunt
lips. Slowly I felt it start to intrude.
Jeff walked up to us. I saw over Sherry’s finger that he was
already getting hard again. The obscenity of her fucking me with the
bottle was arousing him. He began to play with himself, enjoying the
sight. Gradually, as she shunted the bottle within me, making me moan
and cry out, he lengthened and hardened.
“There, you’re both ready now,” Sherry whispered. She removed
the bottle from me but not her finger. Jeff stood close, held himself,
like a man about to urinate into a urinal. I felt fingers part my pussy
lips and then, quite boldly, a cock shove itself up inside my cunt.
I screamed. I had wanted so long, and now he was here,
breathing hotly on me, the hair of his massive chest against me, his
thing up inside me. I bucked at him, as if to push him away, but it
only buried him deeper. With quick, forceful strokes he fucked me. I
panted, Sherry all the while fingered my mouth. At the same time she
tickled her pussy anew. We would all share this last orgasm together.
In the depths of their dungeon I howled out. They made me cum
like an animal, a sheep being slaughtered. Thier own cries mingled with
mine. Jeff pounded me fiercely. His dick opened me in places I’d never
thought possible. He was enormous inside me. He split me wide and
fucked me hard and his wife urged him to spoil me with his fierceness.
But I was not spoiled, unless in the way little girls are spoiled, by
having daddies who give them everything.
Jeff shot all he had into me. I swooned. Sherry trilled in my
ear as she fingered herself into bliss. We forgot everything for
awhile; names, relationships, personalities. We were just our organs,
Jeff shooting and me receiving and Sherry jamming her fingers up into
herself. Our bodies humped and heaved. Our parts became us.
“Let me help you down, honey,” Sherry said to me afterward.
With tender fingers she undid me from the rack. I sighed. Her voice
was tremulous. We were both coated with a sheen of sweat, which, having
our senses back, the cool air of the dungeon quickly used to make us
quite chilly.
I looked at her. Was my hair as unkempt as hers? It must be.
Yet, their was a fullness to both our manes. They seemed heathy. I ran
my fingers through mine when my hands were free and found a richness I
had not sensed before.
With light, almost amazed steps, I regained the dungeon floor
and walked across it. Jeff had left Sherry to undo me and gone up the
ladder to get the door open. I found myself looking up at his hairy
butt, way up on the ladder. I heard a thud as the trapdoor was pushed
back and fell open against the floor of the study.
Jeff climbed out. I began up the ladder and Sherry followed
me. Suddenly, when I was almost at the top, I felt a spray of fluid hit
my face.
“Jeff!” I cried out. I looked up. To my horror I saw he was
peeing on me!
“Jeff! Stop!” Sherry cried from down below. We were both
getting hit by his stream, me first and she secondarily, his pee
dripping and splashing off me onto her.
There was no hope in getting Jeff to cut off his flow. Like a
little boy he gaily peed down on us. I was forced to accept his urine
all over my face and boobs. There was no way for me to escape him. I
was stuck, high up on the ladder. I squeezed my eyes shut and twisted
my face back and forth but it was no use. He seemed to catch me
whichever way I turned my face. He called down to me to open my mouth
but I refused.
When at last Jeff had finished I climbed up the rest of the
way. Gallantly he reached into the hole and lifted me up by my hand and
set me on my feet on the study floor. Sherry followed. We looked at
each other and saw that we were both dripping with her husband’s pee.
“Your husband is a cad,” I told her.
“Just be glad I didn’t poop on you,” Jeff laughed. He shut the
trap door. He pulled the throw rug over it.
“Let’s shower and take you home,” Sherry said to me. She took
my hand. Together we walked to their bathroom.
I was left off at the corner. I walked the half block to my
house by myself. They’d bought me clothes on the way back, Gap clothes,
the kind mothers like. My hair was in pigtails and my makeup was gone.
I had a sweatshirt on, with long sleeves. I wore clam-digger pants,
showing just my calves. I had sneakers on and my laces were tied.
“Kelly! Where have you been?” my mom asked as I banged through
the screen door of our house. She was home early, just as I feared.
“I slept over at a friend’s house,” I said casually.
“Well, you should ask my permission when you do that, dear,” my
mom replied. “Whose bike is that in the garage?” she asked.
“Oh,” I answered. “Just a friend.”
“Now I want you to go to the Mormon Children’s Sunday School
this evening,” my mom told me. “There will be lots of nice boys and
girls there your age. Decent boys and girls, who will be a good
influence on you. I don’t want you getting into any of the things most
kids around here do.”
I paused a moment. Should I drop my pants and show her my red
bottom, where I’d almost been toasted alive on a bondage table? Or lift
my shirt, and show her the marks on my belly where Jeff had whipped me?
I decided not to. I was feeling quiet, content. My eyes were dreamy.
“Whatever you want, mom,” I answered.
“My, you’re being good today,” my mom said. “Perhaps you
should sleep over more often.”
I don’t know if she guessed anything, but I never did have to
go to sunday school and my mom put away her Mormon records. We seemed
to get along much better after that, and she never asked why I ‘shaped
up’ so nicely for her from then on, being polite and wearing the clothes
she liked. But, at the same time, she never questioned me when I
happened to ‘sleep over’ either.
THE END
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