Message-ID: <1059eli$9706021145@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Archived-At: <URL:http://www.netusa.net/~eli/erotica/assm/Year97/1059>
Path: qz!news.accessus.net!not-for-mail
X-Path-Preload: news.accessus.net preloaded to thwart rogue canceller there
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d
Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam
Approved: <usenet-approval@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded <story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Story-Submission: <story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
From: Andrew Roller <roller39@IDT.NET>
Subject: Dungeon of Desire part 2 of 6 (NND)
---------------------------------------------------------------
PROBLEMS? Please try viewing this with Netscape Navigator.
---------------------------------------------------------------
_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
DUNGEON OF DESIRE
_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
Chapter Two
Despite my little foray into the bedroom, most of the men still
looked fully loaded and equipped for pleasure. They gazed at my pussy
as I accepted a drink in my hand and chatted quietly. They could see
the residue of John’s sperm in my cunt hairs. On the insides of my
thighs he’d left his mark too, in drying trails of his abundance that
had failed to penetrate me, or had dribbled back out.
All around me I felt a cluster of eager young men. Their tools
stood up boldly. Their balls were full with days of waiting. All had
peed in the pool. None wore pants anymore, though a few had put shirts
back on, perhaps to regain a little of their modesty. It was a useless
gesture. The upstanding prick they possessed simply lifted the hem of
their shirt. My view of each of their penises was unimpeded.
“I’m a movie director,” one man offered. His voice was husky.
He wore a shirt but his penis was thrust at me, all the same, for he was
rock solid, hard and long.
“That’s nice,” I said in a lispy voice, sipping my drink. With
so many men around me I didn’t want to let any of them have me. Not
now. If I did, I was sure I’d be gang-banged. I didn’t want that.
Despite my spermed cunt I tried to be as diffident and elegant as
possible. I was nude, true, without bra or panties, with just my spiked
heels on, and only 16, but I had to try my best to keep all these men at
bay or I’d just be turned into a free hole for their lust.
“She’s learning,” I heard Sharon whisper to Miriam.
“Such a fine young girl,” Miriam, if I heard correctly,
whispered back.
Sandy and her hubby drew close. Was he her hubby? Or just her
lover? Or a friend she’d met tonight? I couldn’t remember. Even his
name, if I’d learnt it, escaped me. But his organ stood up, big and
proud, and his chest was muscular and hairy.
I smiled over the lip of my glass. I let his eyes drink in my
figure. He seemed even more interested in me than before; I was
available now, he was sure, seeing John’s sperm in my pubic curls. I
was anointed. He was excited. Surely I could let him do me too?
I remained coy. He had a dick I’d have died for just hours
ago, but now I suffered from a surfeit of eager young penises. All of
these young men, and even the older ones, who should have known better,
were visibly excited by my surrender. Normally, their lust would be
contained in their trousers, at least. But now, trouserless, they
showed me their eagerness with complete freedom. I could examine their
inspired penises at will, glancing from one to the other, watching the
veins pump blood down their shafts and comparing the hues of their big
purplish knobs.
“I’m really not a bad girl. I just made a little mistake,” I
explained to Sandy’s husband. What was his name? No matter. I watched
as a jewel of pre-cum formed over his pee slit. He’d made it for me, I
knew. Should I bend down and lick it off? I ran my tongue over my lips
to show him I appreciated his sperm.
I felt a calloused palm on my bottom. My cheeks tensed. I
glanced over my shoulder, up.
“Master!” I said in a little cry. It was Sauron. I had
pledged my body to him. He could control me at will. Was there any
escape? I didn’t know.
“Feel his balls,” Sauron told me. “I want you to weigh each
man’s balls and tell me which you think is the fullest.”
I looked at my master with wide eyes. Surely, he was one of
the strongest men here. Could he really make the other men submit to
his female slave? I turned back to Sandy’s husband. Nameless, he stood
waiting, seemingly unoffended by the suggestion he let me weigh his
testicles.
I reached out. I think they were all so crazed with lust, each
of them knowing I had but two hands, that they were willing to let me
have a little freedom for a few minutes. I slid my fingers past the
proffered penis of Sandy’s husband and groped at his balls.
“They’re so BIG!” I said with alarm. Everyone laughed. I was
a child tasting her first lemon. I felt the prickly hairs of his balls
and the brooding fullness of his sack. I could not contain his fullness
in my palm, only feel it, let it weigh upon my open hand. When I
squeezed his big balls they just smooshed upward, letting me have only a
little of him.
“Here, darling, put him in a pouch,” Miriam told me. She
handed me an impossibly small bag made of leather. It had drawstrings.
Was I supposed to fit this big man into that little container?
“Put it on him and pull the drawstrings tight. Then he can
fuck without losing his seed,” Sandy smiled at me. She winked. I
didn’t know if she was lying or telling the truth. But she liked the
idea of seeing her husband made captive. He groaned. I wanted to feel
the other men, before the chance passed away, but I knelt down and tried
to fit her husband into the bag.
The man’s penis jabbed at my face. I bent my head to one side
and had to permit his dick to stem into my blonde mane of hair. There
was simply no way to avoid him. As I worked to capture his balls in the
bag his penis oozed precum into my lovely blonde locks.
I struggled. I worked the bag over his nuts, trying hard to
contain him without breaking my nails. I had to bite my lip and really
sweat at the job. The pouch was small and he was anything but.
“I think they made this pouch for smaller men,” I suggested.
“He’s worn one before,” Sandy said. She patted my head and
made me continue. Finally I got her husband contained. I smiled at my
success. Then, remembering I should tie him, I reached again between
his legs and tied up the drawstring around the top of his balls.
“I hear this string is made of sharp diamonds,” I teased
Sandy’s husband. He responded to the tightness of the bag. His dick
seemed to swell and his throat let out a sharp, gutteral cry.
“Yes dear, you should keep your seed where it belongs,” Sandy
said to her husband. She held a riding crop and she lofted it into the
air and brought it down smartly on his bare buttucks.
“Yeoch!” the man grunted.
“Oh, don’t!” I begged. I hated to see him hurt. My hands
pressed against his thighs. I felt his lurching dick brush my cheek and
I let him stem in my hair without avoiding him. I rubbed my cheek
against his penis’s shaft.
“Go feel the other men,” Sandy ordered me. I looked up at her
husband. He seemed enthralled by his bondage. Perhaps he had a job
where he had to be the boss all day. Now he just wanted to serve, to
obey.
I stood up. I shook my hair and tried to comb out his spermy
precum with my fingers. I had no time for obedient men. I turned,
examined my options. Three men still waited to let me weigh them. A
college guy, a man slightly older, and a man older still. They showed
me their dicks but I disliked their obedience. With a slap on my ass,
not too hard, just enough to remind me he was there, Sauron indicated I
must obey.
Sheepishly I advanced to the first man. I looked down at his
dick. He was as huge as any. I knelt down. A fatal mistake. I had no
pouch, why did I think I must kneel for him? Before I could say ‘no’ I
found his penis forcing its way between my lips. He was a frat guy. He
knew how to take advantage of a situation. How many other girls had he
put his penis to, I wondered, as I felt him intrude. I tasted his sperm
and gagged as his cockhead jammed itself in my mouth.
But he was not alone. The other two men I’d been assigned
decided to jump in also. They poked their dicks at my gasping mouth.
In a moment I found myself with three penises all vying for my lips.
Somehow, looping their arms round each other so none would be denied,
they all managed to force their penises at the same time into my mouth.
I gagged and spluttered but there was no denying them. How
many nights had I lay in bed, dreaming of commanding and controlling
boys, telling them to drop their pants so Nurse Kelly could see to their
ailments? Well, now little Nurse Kelly had quite a mouthful! I felt
their hands clap against the back of my head to keep me from escaping.
With their three cockheads prying my mouth apart, I felt like someone
with a pan pipe or a mouth organ, except the organs were far bigger than
any a musician had ever put to his lips.
With my fingers I tried to push them back. It was no use. My
hands were small and delicate, slim-fingered. These guys had been
specially chosen because they were big and brawny. How nice it must be
to be Miriam, I thought, picking your customers. I ran my hands along
their shafts. I tried to do my duty to them, reaching inbetween their
legs and grasping at their balls.
They took it as an invitation to cum. As I sqeezed their balls
they played with their dicks. Quickly they became homosexuals, at least
for a moment, for they found playing with each other’s penises was far
more exciting than simply massaging their own.
“Come, you dickhead!” the middle guy said to the college boy.
“After you, butthole!” the college guy replied.
The older man, happy, perhaps, to have two young men’s penises
at his disposal, stroked them with demanding fingers.
“You’re squeezing too hard!” the college boy said to the eldest
among them.
“Cum, dickwad,” the eldest man replied, no better in his
manners than his companions were.
“Shoot, dude, I haven’t got all day,” the male in the middle
told his college pal.
“No, I don’t want toooo, I want to be the lasssst,” the college
boy protested. But with me squeezing his balls and the oldest man
yanking his dick, he spurted into my mouth in a sudden flood of sperm.
The other two, excited, came in simultaneous torrents. As I recieved
their inundation I realized none of them were fags; they’d found
themselves all wanting me and the excitement of their forbidden
closeness set them off.
A trio of fleshy firecrackers exploded their seed into my
mouth. I gasped, gurgled, practically drowned in the flood. I heard
the other guests laughing. I was swamped! Have you ever had three
penises shoot into your mouth at the same time? It’s awful! I had no
hope of swallowing it all. They jetted into my mouth, overwhelming me,
slathering my pried apart lips and letting their seed splurge all over
my face, up my nose, and into my eyes. The men were quite happy now.
They were no longer competitive. They simply enjoyed their release,
shooting in my face like three boys playing naughty urinal games. I
tried to contain the flood, pinching at their balls, but it only made
them cum more. I batted my hands at their shafts in desperation. They
were too huge and stiff for me to move. I was wedded to their
tree-trunk like cocks, I was forced to accept all they had to give me.
White-faced, a bride with a veil of sperm upon my face, I stood
up at last. My knees were wobbly. I found myself forced to face the
guests. There was nowhere for me to run. They surrounded me and the
women oohed and ahhed at my plight. I had taken three men. I was a
mess. My makeup was pieface now, sperm flavored; my lipstick was white,
my mascara the color of spermy yeast. I was sticky. When my lips
moved, or my eyelashes fluttered, there was a spiderweb of white goo
that moved with me.
“Why, I think she’s been to see the Rolling Stones!” Sharon
laughed. Miriam smiled. Other women stared a little enviously. I’d
just put three men out of commission, at least for the moment.
“Come, little girl, you need your face washed,” Miriam said to
me. She took me by the hair. She walked me in my wobbly heels over to
the punch bowl. I found myself staring down into it. Little lemon
peels floated across its surface.
“We girls always prefer sperm-flavored punch at our parties,”
Miriam said quietly to me. And then she dunked me!
My head, grabbed from behind by the hair, was plunged deep into
the bowl. I felt as if I were drowning. Indeed, I was; for my head was
in the punch and my feet kicked up behind me, trying to escape. Miriam
held me down. My eyes gaped in the bowl. I saw nothing but red punch.
When at last she let me up I gasped like a fish.
Down I went again. Miriam held my head down, waiting until I
grew desperate. Then up she lifted my head. She let me breathe. When
I’d relaxed a little, feeling the tricklings of punch running down my
neck and collecting momentarily at the tips of my nipples, she plunged
me in yet again.
I swam in the punch. I was a goldfish searching for a hiding
place. I tasted the punch, involuntarily. It was tropical, with a hint
of liquor. My head was lifted up for a final time and I was permitted
to rejoin the living. I gasped. They watched my breasts quiver as my
chest filled gratefully with air, then expelled it, then filled again.
There were lemon peels in my hair. Miriam plucked them out. She picked
up a linen napkin and carefully wiped my cheeks.
Sharon moved to the punchbowl. She dipped a ladle into the
bowl. Drawing up a cupful, she poured a glass for Sandy.
“Mmmm, mmmm, good!” Sandy giggled, accepting a glass and
sipping it. Two white-tailed servants, middle aged men oblivious to our
nudity, appeared and cleaned up the splashings made by my dunking.
Miriam had impeccable help. I watched as the two men, from Mexico,
worked as professionally as if they’d been matadors at a bullfight.
They paid no attention to the plethora of penises, though they had to
weave in their steps to avoid them. And their eyes did not savor the
females. Despite the abundance of bosoms and bottoms, all bare, they
saw to their work and nothing else.
“Now that we’ve cleaned up your face, let’s clean out your
cunny,” Miriam smiled at me. She told me to get up on the table. By
now Sharon had served most of the ladies the sperm-laden punch, and it
seemed a new use was to be made of the bowl.
Jennifer appeared. A man and a woman held her by her hands.
Were they her master and mistress? I couldn’t tell. They told her to
climb up onto the table. She complied. There was a slightly gaunt look
to her face and I guessed she was still as needy as she’d been in the
bedroom; brought to the splitting edge of orgasmic desire, then left
unfulfilled. She seemed to be willing to do whatever was asked of her,
if only its result would be pleasure. Instead, so far at least, she’d
been denied, forced to do things but not rewarded. She looked at me.
Both of us knelt on the table, feeling quite silly, on our hands and
knees with our bottoms up, showing our pumpkin asses to the crowd.
“Both of you, sit with your backs against each other,” Miriam
commanded. We complied. We were new and they loved our newness. We
were the Chosen Two, I guessed, and they’d remember us most when the
night was over. We were young and we squirmed, letting our legs open,
studying our thighs with our eyes, feeling the silken tablecloth beneath
our bottoms.
I was facing the punchbowl. Miriam took the ladle from it. It
brimmed with punch, a few ice cubes floating in it. I watched as she
placed a napkin under me, making me lift my seat so she could slide it
under, all the while holding the ladle aloft. When the tablecloth had
been protected from spills, Miriam poured the ladlefull of punch right
onto my pussy.
I gasped. The punch splashed onto my pubic curls and wet the
napkin beneath me. Miriam next took a plastic syringe, passed to her by
Sharon, and filled it in the punch. She inserted it between my cunt
lips. She smiled wickedly at me. I could only stare back at her.
Behind me, Jennifer, still hungry for pleasure, moaned and opened
herself to the prying eyes of the crowd. She wanted, but they gave her
nothing. She was not permitted to touch herself. She arched her back
against mine and let out a little cry of desire.
I, meanwhile, had something up me and Miriam intended to use it
to douch me. She squeezed the big rubber ball at the end of her
syringe. It squirted. I felt a jet of icy punch shoot up inside me and
I cried out. Jennifer, hearing me, shivered against my back, wanting,
needing, yet allowed to have nothing.
Slowly Miriam douched me. She took her time. As napkins were
wettned she put new ones beneath me. I kept having to lift up my tail
to accomodate her. It felt so strange to sit before all these strangers
completely nude, my legs open, being douched.
“You’ll taste delicious,” Miriam assured me. I nodded. I
would taste like punch. Jennifer longed to taste like I did. Or
perhaps even to taste me. I felt her hands sleek back past herself and
rest on my hips.
“Such delightful nipples you have! Would you like me to clamp
them?” a woman asked Jennifer. She made no reply. I heard her keen out
a little cry a moment later, her back tensing against mine, and guessed
she’d been clipped. “They’re flourescent. They’ll glow when you
dance,” I heard a woman’s voice murmer.
“Paint her pussy,” a man’s voice said.
“Alright dear,” I heard.
Finishing up my douche, Miriam took up the task of repairing my
makeup. I would have preferred being fresh-faced, cleansed by the
punch, but she insisted I must look my finest. She put new lipstick on
my lips. She brushed out my lashes and pencilled my brows. Meanwhile,
behind me, I heard a little jar opened. Jennifer gripped my bare hips
with her hands and I guessed that the painting of her pussy had begun.
Glancing around me, I saw the guests take up the task of
preparing for the dance. It was a heady sight. Using bristle brushes
intended for female makeup, all the partiers began painting each other’s
loins. The paints were bright yellow or pink or blue, all pastel
colors. Miriam whispered to me that we’d dance under black light.
Jennifer mewled out breathy little gasps as the flourescent
paints were applied to her cunny. I guessed those little strokes of the
bristle brush must be driving her crazy. Looking around me, I watched
as ladies subjected their men to the paints. Quivering penises had to
somehow hold back their loads as they were carefully and quietly stroked
by the brushes.
“Yes, dear, you too,” Miriam said to me. She took a brush and
a small glass jar of paint from Sharon and began with my nipples.
“Oh, don’t!” I gasped. The brush was infuriating. Its soft
bristles teased my bare nipples and made them stand up exceedingly
straight.
“Would you prefer I used clamps?” Miriam asked me.
“Oh, Nooo!” I replied. She put the paint to my nipple tips and
swirled it all around my areolas. I was forced to bite my lip and
endure. She moved to my cunny next, painting me slowly and with
inquiring strokes. Each little jab of the brush proved more intrusive.
Carefully she limned my labial lips; they would glow brightly in the
dark. Each tiny pubic curl was coated with flourescent paint. My face
would be hidden in the darkness of the dance, but my nipples and my
cunny would flash and shine obscenely.
When I was prepared, Master appeared. He held a riding crop
with a broad, looped tip. He put it to my cheek and forced me to turn
my face to him. Katy watched, bright eyed, and beside her were two
other men. Master passed the looped tip of the crop across my face and
put it against my lips.
“Kiss it,” he said. “You’ll be feeling it on your ass soon.”
I began to kiss it, fearfully, and then suddenly I opened my lips and
mouthed it. I let it lay upon my tongue and I bit it gently.
“She is a fine young slave,” one of the men murmured
admiringly. I pleased them. I was glad I pleased them. Especially
Master.
Katy took my hand and helped me down off the table. I stood
before my master, looked at him, at Katy, at the others. I touched my
hands to my white bottom and guessed it would be a little uncomfortable
soon. Is this what I had come for? I didn’t know. I didn’t know
anything anymore.
Jennifer appeared beside me. Her breasts were weighed down by
clamps. They bit into her perfect nipples, their greedy little mouths
ridged slightly to make her even more aware of their presence. I
touched a finger to one of the weighted clips.
“Don’t,” Jennifer gasped.
“You’re going to have to dance with those on,” I observed in a
soft, innocent voice.
“I know,” she replied.
The lights were dimmed. All around me females exchanged final
glances at each other’s bottoms. I guessed the whips would fly when the
dance began. We cherished our last moments of comfort. I felt my
cheeks huddling. My palms hugged my hiney. Katy pulled my hands off my
ass.
“Don’t,” she sighed. “You must try to enjoy yourself. Just
dance. Let the men do as they please.”
I heard a pulse-pounding rhythm begin. Kate looked at me, her
face shrouded now, the darkness engulfing her, and she began to dance.
Her movements encouraged me. I began to move to the rhythm also.
“Keep the whips low,” I heard Miriam call out. “No hitting
above the belt!”
A shriek came to my ears. Some poor girl had gotten her hiney
whacked. I slowed my dancing but Kate touched my wrist and indicated I
must keep up with her. Together, facing each other, we began to dance
like Bacchae.
A black light illuminated us. I watched as Kate’s nipples,
painted exquisitely as my own, bounced in the eerie light. Beneath her
belly her pubic curls shone. My own bosoms, colored with bright yellow
neon, jounced and jiggled on my chest as I moved ever more quickly and
freely. I let my arms fly out and I pushed my chest forward so that it
offered my breasts to any who watched. I let my ass wriggle behind me
and tried to forget that my Master held a stiff crop. Beside me,
dancing a little more slowly, Jennifer moved. She looked down at her
breasts and watched as they swung with their weighted tips, the clamps
eagerly hugging her, making her feel their teeth even as she was forced
to respond to the music.
It was a cool song. Another followed, the very latest stuff,
making me happy despite my worst fears. All around me, as the music
heightened, I heard swift cracks and blurted screams. We were victims,
all of us, and there was no hope for us. Katy let out a little howl as
she received her first blow. I danced more quickly. I knew my bottom
had tempted many men and they wouldn’t let me escape much longer.
“Yeeeowch!” Jennifer yelped as somebody, moving in the
darkness, his penis bright and his balls illuminated, struck her with
his crop.
And then me! A searing line of heat smacked quickly and
decisively against my tushy, making me offer a scream of my own.
The base of the music deepened. Another slash, from somebody,
stuck Kate’s behind. She howled and I sensed tears came to her eyes. I
was hit again. My scream joined hers. Jennifer whined as she was
smacked yet again. Her big bosoms juddered. She was desperate for love
but all they would give her was punishment.
A bristling array of crops began beating on any bottom
available. I soon found myself consumed by tears as crop after crop
stung my hiney. It was like dancing in a thornbush! Little whips and
stiff crops and even the occasional cat found my fanny. I sobbed. I
kept dancing, unable to stop, lest they really make me feel some pain.
All around me, moving in the darkness, women and men, sometimes
exchanging weapons, sometimes hitting each other, made play with our
bottoms. Even men were struck in the frenzy. No one was spared as the
music wore on. Screams pervaded the room. I saw the white-tailed
waiters changing out food and plates. They must have thought us mad,
beating each other in the glowing darkness. Anglos with nothing better
to do than give each other doses of pain.
I watched the dongs of the naked men as we danced. It was my
one pleasure. How odd those long, hard lances of flesh looked, all
brightly painted, as they waggled in the air, wiggling like worms caught
out in the moonlight. I longed for a whip so I could tear through the
crowd, striking at penises left and right.
The lights came up. Too soon, too soon, I thought, though my
hands flew at once to my bottom. I wanted to play with those
glow-in-the-dark penises I’d seen all around me. Now, in the light,
they seemed less mysterious, though I found they were no less
appealing.
“My ass hurts,” Jennifer sobbed. She hung her head and stood
weeping. I rubbed my own tushy. It was burning like mad and I squeezed
my cheeks, hoping to throw off the pain, but the squeezing only made the
lines on my ass burn more deeply.
The men laughed. They stood around watching as their female
slaves commiserated with each other. The men too had been struck, but
men are bred to be tough and they seemed to hardly notice the state of
their own tushies. Katy turned and showed me her bottom.
“How red is it?” she asked.
“You could pretend you’re a road map,” I replied. Bright pink
and red lines seared her white peach. She squeezed it as I looked and I
wanted to drop to my knees and lick it for her. And have her lick mine
in turn.
“You danced very well, dear,” a woman said to Jennifer. With
appreciative hands she rewarded Jennifer by removing her breast clamps.
Jennifer yelped as the clamps came off. Then she studied her breasts,
lifting her hands to her nipples and squeezing them gently. I again
felt a need to console, and this time I didn’t hold back. I dashed to
her and kissed her neck for permission.
“Don’t,” Jennifer told me. She’d had enough of others, their
clamps and their mouths and their tounges. She wanted to nurse her
nipples herself.
I stepped back. A hand caught mine as I drew back from
Jennifer. It was Miriam.
“Come, both of you. We must see which one will fuck you,”
Miriam said. She did not have to take Jennifer’s hand. The girl looked
up, hopefully, then followed along behind me as Miriam led me to a large
pile of cushions.
“This is the love hump,” Miriam said. She let me examine the
pile a moment. The cushions were mounded so that when I lay down upon
them, part of me would be on the floor, while the rest of me would be
lofted high into the air, displayed.
“Let me fix her bottom for her first,” Katy offered. She
hurried up with a jar of cold cream. She turned me around and I winched
as she palmed my hiney. She spread the cream on my bottom to soothe my
welts. I realized that all around me lovers were now tending to each
other’s hineys. I let Katy do me, prying my cheeks apart unecessarily
in the process, stabbing at my hole with her finger just to let me know
she was still Mistress and I was still Sauron’s slave. He watched me
from a distance. Sharon was rubbing salve on his butt where she, or
someone, had whipped him.
Every female in the room now displayed marks from the dance.
They were not vicious, just bright red, some with ridges where a blow
had been stuck with extra vivaciousness. There was a sense of passion
in the room, mingled with the scent of precum and vaginal moistness. We
were all quite bare, stripped to our heels, hiding nothing. Tomorrow
we’d be back in the world, wearing clothes, visiting separate restrooms,
but for now all was revealed and our ardor promised soon to be
quenched. The men who still sported hard-ons, and there were many,
gazed about them with a sense of possession now. The time of teasing
was drawing to a close. Miriam would permit the orgy soon.
The room looked slightly depleted. I guessed a few, cloaked by
darkness, had chosen to hurry their affairs by stealing away to a
bedroom. The rest waited for Miriam’s signal. Their bodies glowed. A
felt a sheen of sweat on my skin and knew I yearned for a conclusion as
much as the others did. Despite my little venture with Colleen and
John, I was still hungry. Every moment made my belly swim with new
thoughts, new speculations. I found the display of raw penis all around
me to be irresistible.
So it was with polite but very eager gracefulness that I let
Miriam take me by the hand and seat my hiney on the piled up cushions.
She kissed my nose, then pushed me so that I fell backward. When my
head plopped onto a cushion on the floor I found myself sprawled with
legs akimbo, my ass high, still perched on the top of the pile. I gazed
at myself. My belly was higher than my head and my hips were higher
still. Then, my legs open, my feet dropped down to the floor on the
other side. It was a most awkward position. I could feel my cuntlips
displaying themselves to all who cared to look. And many did, the men
with their hardons and the women with their twinkling, wicked eyes.
“She’s quite an eager beaver,” Sharon laughed. I smiled up at
her. I knew I would not be permitted to rise without taking at least
one of the many dongs around me in my cunny. I didn’t mind. I accepted
my fate. I wondered which it would be. The men eyed me, standing over
me, showing me their painted loins.
The pressure of the cushions against my fanny made it sting
even worse. I bit my lip and tried to ignore it. The cream helped; a
soothing glow began developing in my hind cheeks. Fortunately, just
before seating me on the pile, Miriam had spread out a silky-soft white
handkerchief to absorb the inevitable drips from the fucking I was to
receive. I felt the gloss of the cloth against my wounded bottom and
sighed gratefully. It was so strange, the luxury Miriam chose to mingle
here in her home with its many ordeals. I guessed my journey was just
beginning. The night would be a long one and I would be tested
thoroughly. The men certainly hoped I would be! They watched my soft
breasts as they rose and fell on my sighing chest. One of them began
masterbating himself, perhaps to enjoy raining his seed down on my face,
but Miriam batted his hand away.
“We must each pick rose petals from a bowl,” Miriam said aloud
to the crowd. As she spoke Sharon, taking my hands and drawing them
past my head, clipped handcuffs onto my wrists. “Take a petal and stand
here on the pussy-side of the hump. Then lean forward and drop the
petal and see if little Kelly can catch it in her mouth.” Miriam passed
around a wooden bowl with pink rose petals piled in it. Each guest took
several. She grinned at me. “I want you to be totally fair, dear, or
I’ll smack your precious bottom,” she told me. “When somebody drops a
petal, I want you to try to catch it between your lips. The one you
catch will fuck you. If it’s a woman, she’ll use her tongue. If it’s a
man, he’ll use his penis, of course.” Miriam looked at the assembled
company. “This is our last game. When someone succeeds, you may wait
for a turn or you may enjoy yourselves in an orgy.” She eyed the men.
“I want to congratulate you all for being so patient. Girls, don’t
hesitate if a man asks you. Get right down and let him fuck you. All
of us have been tested, there’s no reason to worry about diseases.”
Miriam looked at Jennifer. “You, my dear, will be our maid of honor at
our orgy,” she said.
Jenifer gulped. Her tears still ran quietly down her cheeks
from our Bacchic dance. She held her bottom like it was a beautiful
ornament, precious and gem-like. And I had no doubt that the men,
eyeing her as well as me, thought it more valuable than gold at the
moment. They encroached on her. Their penises bristled like torments
from a little girl’s worst nightmare. And at each penis was a helpful
woman, stoking the flame that flickered so boldly within that manly
stalk of flesh, begging it to show its stuff. Yet they used a little
expertise too, the women, watching their man to see if they might be
inspiring him too much. Sometimes their enslarling little fingers drew
back, touched just feather-lightly, so as to allow the manlike tube in
their grip to preserve his strength a little longer. It was like
watching sausages being palped and palmed by elvin maidens. The women
complimented displayed organs, giving them little blowy kisses and
comparing notes on the men with each other, using glances of their eyes
and soft smiles. ‘Ooooh, best hold back. He looks about to spurt!’ one
girl might signal to another. Or, ‘How big he is! Are you sure you’ll
be able to stuff all THAT into your little twat?’ ‘Not my twat, dear,
he wants to put it up my butthole.’ ‘Oh my, how that will rend you.
You’ll be taking dictation standing up tomorrow at work.’
And so it went. Jennifer, humping her hips slightly forward
and back, desperate for love despite her purest intentions, watched as
two white-tailed waiters brought out a mattress.
“For you, Jennifer, that you may entertain whomever you please
on the floor, in the best comfort I can offer,” Miriam teased, knowing
Jennifer would be reluctant to permit herself such liberties, here in
front of everyone and with everybody, even the women, a potential
lover. As I watched the waiters plopped down the mattress near the
table with the punch bowl. Men would be able to rise for drinks and
then return to the makeshift bed with the greatest of ease, fucking and
drinking, men’s two greatest pleasures in life.
A waiter had a sheet under his arm and he unfurled it.
Gallantly he fitted the sheet to the mattress on the floor as Jennifer
watched with deeply anxious eyes. No pillows were needed. No teddy
bears, or P.J.’s, or prayers before bedtime. Just a big flat surface,
soft underneath, where Jennifer could be reamed into bliss.
“You will be the Queen of Sheba, I think, save that you’ll have
to keep your legs apart,” Miriam sighed. Her sentence ended in a
girlish giggle. She led poor wobbly-kneed Jennifer, her legs slim as a
schoolgirl’s, over to the waiting mat. Miriam placed a fingertip atop
each of Jennifer’s slim shoulders and applied just a hint of pressure.
Her knees buckling more than anything, Jennifer dropped onto
the mattress. The sheet was white. It would not show the residue of
the men’s actions too explicitly once their emissions had dried.
Jennifer leaned forward and palmed the mattress and then crawled across
it, babylike. Even I found myself admiring the cherubic jigglings of
her bottom as she kneed her way into the center of the mattress. The
bright lines from her whipping showed us all that she was more than
ready for fun, even if she herself denied it.
With the wincings of a newly-paddled child, Jennifer flipped
onto her seat and, gingerly, put her weight upon it. Then she looked up
at her captors with pleading eyes. Sitting, her hiney giving her a less
than comfortable pair of cheeks on which to bear down, Jennifer drew up
her knees and hugged them. The tops of her knees hid her bosoms but her
thighs, quite distinctly, given how slim her legs were, allowed her
pussy lips to show. Jennifer seemed not to notice the worse position
she’d put herself in by her attempt at modesty. She wrapped her arms
round her legs and put her chin on her knees.
“Can’t I just go home?” Jennifer asked. “I’ve had fun.
Really! It was most enjoyable and--”
“Shush, dear. I’m a female and you’re a female, but I’m older
and I know more,” Miriam cautioned. “I’ll let you go home when all has
been done as it should be. Look at these men! Do you think they’re
through having fun?”
Miriam let her question hang in the air. Jennifer surveyed the
toadstool forest around her and finally gave a little, compliant sigh.
“Noooo,” she admitted. Her voice was breathy, accepting in the
inevitability of her fate even as she tried, however meekly, to blow
away all those awful pricks that displayed themselves in her presence.
But she had the lungs of a little pig, waiting to be skewered, not of a
big bad wolf.
Like Riding Hood, waiting for Grandma in a most unique bed of
my own, I lay with hips upraised on Miriam’s “Love Hump.” The guests
turned their attention to me again as turned from the mattress and
walked briskly back to the Hump. I noticed everyone fiddling with the
rose petals they held. They were eager to begin, to please me. I had
nothing to do but lie and wait for it. Yet I teasingly lifted my ass a
little, parting my thighs, and showed them my pussy with a seductive
little smile prettying my face. They loved it. The women clapped and
the men impulsively reached for their dongs and stroked them.
“Oh!” a woman cried, as a spattering of sperm suddenly flew
from the penis tip of a man behind her and landed on her bare bottom.
“Dick! Not yet!” a woman beside the man who’d just cum
implored him.
“I-I’m still hard,” the man assured her. He seemed a little
surprised as his length did not diminish and his thickness remained the
same. Yet the woman he’d shot off on was forced to wipe herself with
her hand. She found wiping him off a little disagreeable, I thought,
his gunk making her hands all sticky. But she consoled herself by
putting her gooey fingers into her mouth. Her boyfriend eyed her
suspiciously.
“I hope you don’t like his taste better than mine,” he said.
“No, I just don’t, well--Miriam hates to see good sperm
wasted,” the female replied.
“Yes, excellent! You are most welcome at all my parties, dear,
if you have respect for men’s sperm!” Miriam proclaimed. “I hope to
have a regular troupe here soon, everyone knowing how precious it is to
be able to play naked and fuck. We’ll watch romances in between times,
to keep you men from being too beastly.”
The two waiters appeared, carrying a spreader bar. Miriam told
them to put it between my feet.
“Is this really necessary?” I asked, gritting my teeth a little
as I felt the leather loops at each end of the bar wrapped round my
ankles. The bar was three feet wide! I would be utterly theirs now,
not even able to tease anymore, for my legs were captive and spread,
like butterfly wings on a pegboard.
“Yes, you might get sore, and I need you to stay open ‘til the
last man or the last woman has had fun pleasuring you,” Miriam told me.
“Don’t worry, I’ve got KY right here to keep everything nice and wet.”
She showed me the bottle and then squeezed a bit of it into my open
gash. I was quite moist now. There was nothing left to do save to
accept my fate and ride it out.
Sauron dropped the first petal. I felt a little angry at him
and pretended to catch at it with my mouth, but I purposely missed it.
If Miriam noticed, she did not complain. I think she preferred joining
unfamiliar lovers in sex games. Since I’d arrived with Sauron, she
preferred that another fuck me.
Katy was next. Again I pretended to grab at her down-floating
petal with my teeth. Again I made sure I missed. Next came Sharon.
She was nice, a little flakey, I tried hard for her petal for I knew she
wouldn’t hurt me. But I missed. And then Sandy, lean and fire-eyed and
tawny brown from playing long hours in the sun, dropped her petal.
Something about her smouldering gaze made me feel I had to do my best to
catch it. And, my lips closing on it, my eyes widening in surprise, I
realized I had.
Sandy smiled a cat’s smile. Without even a moment’s
hesitation, she extruded her little tongue from her lips and dove for my
twat. I jerked. I felt a pink spear stab into my softness. My hips
rolled on the Hump. I gasped. She found my clitty and tortured it.
With heaving breasts, suffering a tension of need as Sandy
withdrew her tongue, I gasped out the remnants of my first orgasm.
Sandy had, as expertly as a nurse, brought me off. My gash yearned for
new attention. She left my hips and sauntered past my head. She gazed
down at my face and looked as if she would sit on it, if she could. But
Miriam didn’t want me to be a brownnose, at least not yet. Sandy
flicked her head, pretending she hadn’t really wanted me as Miriam
cautioned her not to sit. She strode back to her husband and told him
to try me next.
He approached. I did not know his name. I wanted to ask, but
he scared me. He was brawny and hard all over from weightlifting, not
least at the point that made itself quite important, standing up in all
12 of its glorious inches from the center of his form. With an iron
grip he seized my thighs with his palms.
“No, you must toss your petal first,” Miriam told him. He
glared at her.
“I’m not a fag,” he retorted. “Just let me fuck her.”
“Would you like me to throw your petal for you?” Sharon asked
him. He nodded at the strawberry blonde. She accepted the petal from
him and turned to me. She did not get behind the hump. He was taking
up all the space where she might have stood.
Leaning out, standing beside me, letting her breasts hang right
over me as if they were cow’s udders waiting for milktime, Sharon let
the little petal fly. I watched leery-eyed as it wafted down toward
me. This was cheating! Yet, afriad of the man between my legs, I
parted my lips and bobbed my head in little upward-rising motions. And
I caught it! I held the rose petal between my lips and realized I was
in for the fucking of my young life.
With hands of steel the man yanked my thighs even wider than
they already were. I coughed and cried out, losing my petal. He
stabbed at me with his prick. Miriam, helpfully, squirted a long stream
of oil upon his length as he made to put it up me.
I screamed. His entry was dynamic, pushy, unloving. He just
wanted IN, and my virgin-like tightness was not about to delay him. He
fucked me with hard-stabbing strokes and I felt my inner muscles give
way. Up he went, making me cry aloud as his hot-iron poker rammed deep
into me. Tears stung my eyes. He didn’t love me. He just wanted to
shoot. I was convenient. He let Sandy, his wife, turn his face with
her uplifted palm. Looking at her, not at me, he kissed her.
With flashing, deep-penetrating strokes Sandy’s hubby reamed me
as she and he kissed. Their tongues interwove. Her hands stroked his
ass and cupped his large hanging balls. He kept my thighs
rippingly-wide and forced me to take him entirely in thundering,
merciless thrusts.
For long minutes I was forced to endure his assault. At last,
enjoying himself immensely, his own wife squeezing his balls with
encouragement, my carefree lover spurted his seed into my cunt. I cried
with passion as his rudeness sent new waves of orgasm through me. I
shivered, I bucked, I tossed my head and wished it would be over, yet
also wished it would not be.
Withdrawing himself at last, my lover left me. Sandy bent and
kissed my tummy and licked up a little of her hubby’s sperm from my
dell. Then they walked away. His ass was small, tight, hairy. He let
it relax as he walked away from me. I watched the tension evaporate
from the hinds. Sandy, still needing her own release, swung her hips
eagerly. Together, holding hands, they both sat down on Jennifer’s
mattress. She was still holding her knees. Sandy crawled over to her
and undid her arms.
“Lie back,” I heard her whisper. “Have you ever rubbed clits
with a woman?”
I did not hear Jennifer’s answer. Sandy’s face murmured over
hers and then all sounds of words were replaced by soft tremulous sighs
and kissed. Sandy, with businesslike acumen, fitted her legs within the
intertwining legs of Jennifer, so that their slits would rub exactly
together.
Now the crowd parted. All pretense was lost as one group
sought Jennifer’s mattress, while the other dropped their petals and
descended on me. All was shamelessness. Miriam herself positioned
herself over my face and then lowered her big woman’s bottom onto my
nose. I inhaled. I smelt bathroom smells, but with a mingling of
perfume.
“Lick my hole,” Miriam told me. I felt hands grope between my
legs and fingers, seeking my clitty, brush through my pubic hair. I
stuck out my tongue. I wedged it between Miriam’s ass cheeks even as a
tongue lapped the undercurve of my own bottom.
I sought Miriam’s puckered anus. I found it and, drawing my
breath for courage, I penetrated her with my tongue. She shrieked. It
was a happy shriek.
“Yes, dear! Do me! Suck my asshole and fuck me with your
little tongue!” Miriam called out. I would have preferred that she not
tell all the world what I was doing. I stabbed her more deeply for
that, hoping to punish her. She felt pleausure instead. She played
with her clit as I tongued her hole.
Afterward, my legs undone and my hands free at last, I was
permitted to rise. The orgy was over. Miriam herself helped me up. I
looked at her. We both had guilty faces. Then I glanced about.
Everyone was finished. They selected among the bikini tops and bottoms
on the floor for something to wear. The women looked like they were
searching for bits of nourishment as they picked their way, bird-like,
through the detritus of clothing that was scattered about the floor.
The men put their trousers and shirts back on. A new decorum took hold
in the crowd. Genitals were no longer stared at, and were quickly
covered up. Glancing eyes showed modesty. People did not linger over
each other’s figures, but comported themselves more like they would at
an office, afraid of sexual harrassment lawsuits. The girls fitted
themselves into the remnants of their bikinis as best they could. Then,
the men escorting their lovers out into the darkness, they left. They
would escape to their cars in the night. Except for the passing of
headlights, no one would see them. It was an elegant neighborhood. A
certain boredom, bred in suburbia, ruled the front yards and the streets
at night here. Perhaps a policeman would pass, perhaps not, going his
rounds. He would deliberately fail to notice the torn bra, or the red
lines on a half-covered girl’s hiney. Here, wealth paid the Law to keep
its distance.
“You have a beautiful little slave,” Miriam told Sauron, my
master. He strode up to her to reclaim me. Katy was beside him,
dressed but undressed in her fetching bikini. She wore somebody else’s
top. It was made of leather. One of its zippered bra-cups wouldn’t
close all the way and I caught a hint of pink nipple within the
encircling leather.
“I would like to train her here,” my Master told Miriam.
“Certainly sir,” she replied. “I’m well equipped for whatever
you desire. You wish to, um, break her in?” Miriam asked. Her voice
had a touch of sadness to it, as if she hated to part with me.
“Yes,” Sauron said. His voice was deeper than before. I
sensed he was feeling a new excitement already, despite his labors at
the orgy. Katy clung to him like a mermaid. He gazed at me with the
eyes of a shipwrecked sailor spotting land.
“There is a room upstairs,” Miriam told my Master. “It has
everything you need. There’s a bath attached. I’ll have the waiters
send up food.” She looked from Sauron to Kelly, then to me. “Asians
make the most delicate mistresses, and the harshest,” she told me. She
slapped my bottom. My undies, brought to the party by some other girl,
she perhaps wearing mine, did little to ward off the blow. They were
soft cotton, thin as a condom. I yelped a little yelp. Nobody cared.
Sauron took me gruffly by my arm and led me off with him. Katy
followed. She held a pony whip in her hand and she let it flick itself
along her thigh as she carried it in her hand.
Stairs beckoned. We trod upward on them. Sauron led me,
walking quickly. Katy followed. Miriam stayed behind. I heard her
order the two waiters to clean up the room. The party was over. Now,
my true ordeal would begin.
30
----------------------- Dreamgirls! -----------------------
-Free e-mail subscriptions: No longer available due to mailbombing of
my Internet account(s) by right-wing Christians.
-Currently I am: roller39@mail.idt.net
-formerly I was andrewroller@sprintmail.com, roller66@inreach.com,
roller666@aol.com Read my complete works under these names by
going to: http://www.excite.com (Click on ‘newsgroups’ and search
under my various former screen names). (Also you can read irrelevant
bullshit posted by right-wing Christians.)
-Recent back issues at Usenet newsgroup: alt.sex.stories.moderated
-For all back issues, send e-mail to: file.request@backdrop.com
- Free plug: http://www.netusa.net/~eli/erotica/assm/
-Free minicomics: send a stamped, self-addressed envelope & age
statement to: Jim Corrigan, P.O. Box 3663, Phenix City, AL 36868
- JOIN the world’s greatest organization! Send $35.00 to The North
American Man/Boy Love Association for a one-year membership.
NAMBLA, P.O. Box 174, Midtown Station, New York, NY 10018.
-Naughty Naked Dreamgirls (Library of Congress ISSN: 1070-1427) is
copyright 1997 and a trademark of Andrew Roller. Work by others
copyright 1997 by the respective copyright holder.
-END OF 272 EMISSION
--
+--------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `------------+
| story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us | story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us |
| Archive site +--------------------+------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ |
\ <URL:http://www.netusa.net/~eli/erotica/assm/> .../assm/faq.html> /