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From: Andrew Roller <roller39@IDT.NET>
Subject: Dungeon of Desire part 6 of 6 (NND)
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_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
DUNGEON OF DESIRE
_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
Epilogue
Please don’t condemn me for how I make my living. If you’re a
woman, don’t feel sorry for me. Don’t make up reasons why I should not
do this. I can’t say I like it, but it’s a living, and it beats most of
the careers I’ve seen professional yuppie women take up. Their
schedules, their conflicts, their false egotistical way of presenting
themselves to the world. I’ve observed them, and I don’t want to be
like them. Not now. Not while I’m still young. I want to stay free.
I don’t want to have wrinkles, at least not prematurely. I just want to
be me. But I do need money, and hardworking men need a little fun now
and then. So I do what I do. And they pay me very handsomely for it.
That’s a must with me: being paid well. If you can’t pony up
the money I can’t drop my dress. I tell them that sometimes, and they
know I mean it.
I work discreetly. Not out on the street like common,
run-of-the-mill girls. I work in executive suits or private apartments,
the apartments successful men keep when they want to have fun away from
their wives.
I drive I nice car. It’s red and I have to be careful where I
park it so it won’t get broken into. Also, I like to park as close as I
can to my assignments. Today I went to one of them.
It was bright and sunny outside. I parked my Chevy Blazer in
an underground garage after working hours, downtown, where all the best
assignments are. It’s a small garage, under a bookstore, although I’ve
never been in it. I just use their lot.
I stepped down out of my Blazer. I wore a skin-tight blouse,
white, just as my client instructed. I could feel my bosoms bounce as
my heel hit the pavement but my client had specifically forbidden me to
wear a bra.
In the corner of the lot, just pulling in behind me (no doubt
to buy books) I saw a nerd emerge from his car. He wore glasses and had
uncombed hair and I knew instantly he had seen me. I could almost feel
him drool as I turned and walked briskly up the ramp to the alley that
ran behind the garage. I had long bare legs and I reached behind myself
to check that my miniskirt wasn’t bunched from my sitting on it. I
tugged on the hem where the dress fell to cover my bottom, checking it
and smoothing it a little. Even the softest breeze would lift my skirt
and show my panties. I didn’t want to have any creases that might make
me worse off than I was.
I walked briskly. I could feel the nerd’s eyes on me and,
although it was warm and still afternoon, I knew a girl with mile-long
legs in a short skirt (not to mention no bra) was a sought after
spectacle. Above me tall glass towers loomed, with late-leaving workers
in them perhaps, peering down. Along the alley might come other
pedestrians, delighted to see me, stopping to stare as I passed, hoping
the wind might catch my skirt and reveal me.
My client, I think, watched me as I approached. He was waiting
upstairs to paddle me. Did he see me check my skirt to see that it
covered my ass? Probably. He savored my uncertainty in these moments.
He told me that soon the building next to the bookstore would be
renovated and construction workers would be laboring there.
But not today. I crossed the alley and followed it down to its
far end and stepped into the lobby of his apartment complex. I caught
an elevator upstairs. I walked down the hall to his door and knocked.
“Come in,” a voice said. It was unfamiliar. I entered
anyway. This was one of my regular appointments. I visited every week
for my spanking.
“Oh, who are you?” I asked when my eyes met the person who’d
pulled back the door.
“I’m Shantila. Are you surprised that I’m a woman?” she
asked. She had dark black hair and pale white skin and wore a red
jacket and red matching red dress and black hose.
“Well, yes,” I said.
“Don’t worry. I’ll give you the same paddling you always get,”
she replied. “And pay you the same, of course. Johnson’s away this
week. An emergency. But he didn’t want you to go without your weekly
spanking.”
I put a hand to my throat. “How considerate,” was all I could
say. My voice felt weak in my throat.
“Do you always get right to business?” she asked.
“Yes,” I answered. “My Master’s time is very valuable.”
Johnson wasn’t my master, of course. Nobody was, now. Now that I’d
learned and been properly trained at Sauron’s. I belonged to myself.
But Johnson delighted in hearing me call him ‘Master.’ All my clients
did. So I obliged every one of them.
Shantila took my hand. It was limp but hers was certain in its
grip. She led me over to the desk where I always received my paddling.
It was a big desk, wooden. It had a polished surface and there was
always a little cushiony pillow waiting for me there, for me to rest my
tummy on.
“Please drop your dress and your panties and bend over,”
Shantila told me. I unzipped myself in back, just like I did every
week. I was in private now. I could show my panties without getting
arrested.
Shantila emitted a little sigh as she saw my undies. My dress
fell to my ankles and I stepped gracefully out of it. I bent over and
picked it up. My panties molded my beautiful ass, leaving the top
halves of my cheeks exposed. They were sheer and had little pink bows
on the sides.
“My, what a gorgeous ass!” Shantila commented as I laid my
dress neatly on the corner of the desk.
“Thank you,” I said. I reached for the ribbons of my panties.
“You wear such lovely underwear,” Shantila said happily.
“Johnson, I mean Master, likes it too,” I replied. I slipped
the ties of my drawstrings. “But he makes me take them off so they
won’t get damaged.”
“Yes. We must do it just like always,” Shantila agreed. “He
uses a paddle on you?”
“Umhmmm,” I replied, letting my panties drop seductively down
my legs. I could just draw them off my hips but Johnson always liked
seeing them slide down my thighs. And, I think, he liked seeing me have
to bend over to pick them up off the floor.
Shantila went to a dresser and opened it. “Which one?” she
asked, looking into the top drawer. I picked up my panties and laid
them on top of my dress.
“The biggest one,” I replied. “The one with the holes in it so
it will fly faster through the air.”
“Oh, you mean this one,” Shantila said. I glanced back over my
shoulder. She drew a large, thin wooden paddle out of the drawer. It
was raw wood. It had holes in it. I shivered.
“Yes, that’s the one. It swings quite fast,” I said in a
trembly voice. I touched my hands to my cheeks. They were so white and
soft-sleeping now, but soon they’d be burning.
“Bend over, please,” Shantila said in a business-like voice.
I fitted the pillow cushion securely against my tummy and then
bent forward and lay myself across Johnson’s desk. Shantila didn’t have
to tell me to spread my legs. I knew I was required to show my cunny as
best I could and my asshole. I planted my feet a good two yards apart
and lay my fists by my face. I bit my lip.
“Does he gag you? Does he restrain you in any way?” Shantila
asked me.
I sighed and tried not to think of the big paddle she was
holding in her hands. “It depends on how much time he has and how good
I was last time,” I replied truthfully. I let a little shiver run down
my spine as I worried at her next question.
“Were you good last time?” she asked.
I held my breath. I didn’t want to answer. “No,” I replied.
She tossed her hair back, contemplated me. “What did you do?”
she asked firmly. She enjoyed my submissiveness.
“I- He-”
“Yes?”
“He hit me very hard and I couldn’t keep from screaming. And I
grabbed my bottom to save it,” I said.
“Tsk! Then you’ll need to be restrained and gagged,” Shantila
replied. I said nothing. She went back to the dresser. She returned
with a rope. It was white and soft but I feared it all the same.
Shantila bound it round each of my wrists as I lay with them at my face
on the table. Then she pulled both my wrists out in front of my head.
She bound the free end of the rope tightly around an old radiator behind
the desk. It didn’t work, but it was very firmly bolted to the floor.
Shantila fetched a gag. She urged my lips apart and carefully
fitted the gag between them. Then she tied the ends of the gag behind
my head, in my hair. She stroked my hair down off my back so she could
see all of me.
Shantila stepped behind me again. She was about to restrain my
feet when the doorbell rang.
I froze. This had happened once before. It had been a mere
salesman, and Johnson had turned the person away, but I had felt
mortified lying over his desk, just out of view of the door, with my
hands tied to his radiator.
Shantila, sensing a unique opportunity, went to the door.
“Yes, may I help you?” she asked, opening it.
“Hello, madam. Have you had an uplifting experience today?” I
heard a voice ask.
“No, but I know somebody who’s about to...” Shantila said.
“Would you like to talk to her?” I felt fear grip my tummy. How could
she? This was unspeakable.
I heard a sniffle, as if the salesman had a runny nose. “Well,
actually, I don’t mean to intrude. Perhaps if you’d just purchase one
for her,” the voice continued.
“Come in, you dolt. Do you have to be dragged in?” Shantila
snapped. I don’t know if she grabbed him or not but, a moment later, to
my intense embarrasment, I found myself glancing back over my shoulder
and coming face to face with the nerd! It was the same one who’d
drooled over me as I checked my skirt on my way up here. How had he
managed to...?
I gazed at his rumbled shirt and his (non-matching, of course)
short pants. He must have followed me! He had a big handful of sales
literature for something or other. I yanked at my bonds. I kicked one
of my legs back, trying to break free of my totally awful predicament.
Who knew what this book worm would say about me? Could I ever park in
the garage again, knowing he might be lurking there, waiting for me and
hoping to score a peek at my ass?
“She does have a lovely ass, doesn’t she?” Shantila asked the
nerd. She could see his fixation with my heinie and it bothered her not
when he failed to reply at all. His mouth hung open and his tongue
seemed to have trouble staying behind his teeth. I watched to my
mortification as a drooling drip of saliva formed on his tongue and
dropped toward the floor.
“Are you...are you...” the nerd stammered.
“Am I going to spank her? Yes. She gets spanked here once a
week. She’s paid for it. Would you like to watch? She has little say
in the matter, as you can see...”
“Um, yes. Do you think she’d like to buy some MiracleGlow
brass cleaner too?” the nerd asked. “It’s good for polishing... your
brass.”
“I’ll polish your ass if you speak to me again of buying
anything,” Shantila said. “What do you think this is, the Internet?”
“Um, no. Though it’s sort of like...” the nerd said, gazing at
my ass. “Could I take pictures of her and upload her ass to all my
buddies? I need some new porn to trade and stuff.”
“Just watch and enjoy,” Shantila said. She put a finger to his
lips to quiet him. Then she made a face and drew her finger away and
shook it in the air. “You’re drooling!” she scolded him. “Confine your
drooling to your member, please!”
“Do you have a magazine I could use or anything?” the nerd
asked. He unzipped himself. I felt like a lavatory!
“Zip up, boy. It’s bad enough you’re drooling your spit all
over the carpet. I don’t need to clean up your jism too. I’d advise
you not to cum if you intend to wander all around inside this building
selling your...”
“MiracleGlow Brass Cleaner! It’s the best!” the nerd said. He
proffered his booklets again.
“I don’t see any...” Shantila said. She grabbed the booklets
from him.
“You have to ORDER it! I just collect money and give you a
booklet to show you’ve bought and how to use...” the nerd followed
Shantila to the window. She raised it and flung his booklets out into
the open air. I felt the warm air of the city flow in and touch me upon
my heinie.
“What are you doing to my literature?!” the nerd shrieked. He
watched in horror as all his booklets went flying out onto the wind, to
compete with the pigeons in the air.
Shantila closed the window. “They’ll all still be down there
on the pavement waiting for you to pick them up after you’re done,” she
smiled. And it was true, I knew. They’d all be down there, lying in
the alley.
“Well...” the nerd paused. His eyes darted from the window to
my bottom. He put a contempletive finger beneath his chin.
“Here. Clean your glasses,” Shantila said to him. She ripped
a kleenex from its paper box and handed it to him.
Shantila came up behind me. I struggled in my bonds but it was
fruitless. She directed the nerd to bring her a spreader bar from the
chest of drawers to keep my legs apart. He complied. He found the bar
and brought it to her but he couldn’t open its telescoping ends. She
had to pull it apart for him. Then she had him bend down and affix it
between my ankles.
“Ow!” the nerd cried. He injured his finger trying to buckle
my ankles into the bar. Finally, after much effort, he succeeded. I
felt like kicking him but Shantila was standing right there with the
paddle.
Shantila rubbed my bottom. Her touch was light.
“Ready?” she asked me. I hesistated, then nodded briefly. I’d
come here for this. She would pay me when it was over.
Shantila drew back her hand. And the nerd did a strange
thing. He plopped right down behind me, sitting on the floor, and
squeezed his legs together. Then he pulled a small spiral notebook out
of his shirt. He grabbed a pen from behind his ear.
“What are you doing?” Shantila asked him.
“I’m going to write all this down!” the nerd said happily. “I
mean, if you won’t let me take photos... of course I’d need to borrow a
camera from you if you have one...”
“No photos,” Shantila said firmly. “I do have some respect for
her privacy.” She nodded perfunctorily at me, but I was grateful for
it.
“Okay, then. Just paddle away and I’ll write it all down for
the guys on the Internet!” the nerd grinned. I couldn’t see him but I
could hear his voice and it certainly sounded like he was grinning.
“What are you going to write... SPLAT?” Shantila asked.
“Um, don’t worry. I’ll add in some extra stuff and name it
after this girl at school who calls me a nerd,” the nerd answered.
“Alright then,” Shantila said. And, as if inspired by his
reportage to give me a really sumptuous punishment, she struck me as
hard as she could.
THE END
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