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From: Andrew Roller <roller39@IDT.NET>
Subject: Passions Playpen part 9 of 14 (NND)
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_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
PASSION’S PLAYPEN
_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
Chapter Nine
Kate walked along the roadside, kicking pebbles and wishing
someone would kidnap her. She wanted to be someone’s property, wholly
and completely. She didn’t want to live in the real world anymore. She
wanted to be a pet, and be fed and cared for and do only as her master
told her.
But it had to be the right man, she told herself. And then she
scolded herself for thinking such thoughts at all. What would her
mother think? She hadn’t served all those years on the PTA so her
daughter could graduate from high school and become some man’s
plaything. Yet, Kate mused, turning and watching the trees by the
roadside and feeling the wind rippling through her hair, she could only
be happy at this point in her life if she devoted herself to a man.
Not marriage. That’s not quite what she wanted. A marriage
was a partnership. She wanted something... deeper. She watched the
moon. It was late. There was nobody around. The road was silent. A
rabbit appeared in the grass near her feet and crept out slowly toward
her. She shivered from the chill in the wind and the rabbit scurried
away. A cloud passed over the moon and she wrapped her arms around
herself to try to stay warm. She wondered if she should go back to the
house where the orgy was in full swing. It would be warm in the tangle
of arms and legs. She had only to enter, and she would soon be amongst
them. Wasn’t that a kind of slavery? But John was there and she was
tired of John. And she didn’t want to meet Rose again and feel
responsible for what she’d done to Rose’s bottom.
Kate heard a car approach. She waited silently, her back to
the road. She knew it was very dangerous to stand like this, with her
skirt flitting in the wind, without panties on and wearing a
constricting corset. She forgot that she was still wearing John’s
handcuffs until the light from the car’s headlights glinted upon it.
Then, suddenly panicking, for she knew she must look ridiculous standing
by the road in handcuffs with her hair mussed and smelling of sex, she
tried to run. But her whole body was frozen with fright and she was
forced to watch the car roll to a stop and the side window come down.
It was a Porsche. Better luck than she might have expected for a
foolish girl who should be back at college doing her homework.
A voice called out in the dark. To Kate’s despair it was a
woman’s voice. High-pitched, cultured, but not a Trojan prince’s voice
calling her to be his Helen. When Kate remained still, a bunny waiting
to be turned into roadkill, the woman got out of her car.
“Are you a runaway?” the woman asked. She seemed to be in a
hurry and a little miffed that some calling of conscience had forced her
to stop by the side of the road. And then, looking around, she seemed
to entertain the thought for a moment that she was not a potential
savior but a potential victim, of roadside bandits.
“No, I’m just, well, um, a party got a little out of hand and I
left,” Kate said as piously as she could.
“Well come, then, it’s terrible you should be out here in the
dark by the side of the road,” the woman replied.
Kate resisted answering any questions in the car. The woman
seemed to want to prosecute somebody. Kate told her to take her to the
college and then pretended to be asleep.
Kate went to a fraternity party the following weekend. She got
drunk and she thought she got laid but in the morning, sitting on the
toilet in the frat house with a terrible hangover, she decided she’d not
really gotten anything like what she was looking for. Walking out, she
had to step over some boy’s underpants that he’d shitted in. She went
back to her dorm room and cried a little and then tried to do her
homework. Sitting on her bottom, she wished it hurt a little, but it
was white and clear and she could sit on it all day if she wanted to,
but that meant she had no excuse not to sit at her writing desk and do
her homework.
When evening came Kate decided to go to a nightclub near the
college. She put on a t-shirt that was a crop top and had no sleeves
and whose hem, leaving her belly bare, just covered her tits. She
jumped up and down a little in front of her mirror in her room to see
just how much bouncing the shirt could take without letting her boobs
fly out. Not much, she realized, and the thought that she was going to
be this racy excited her. For a moment she pondered taking the crop top
off. She’d bought it a year ago and her breasts had blossomed since,
making it much sexier now than her mother had ever intended it to be
when she’d bought it for her as a 17th birthday present. It had sort of
been her mom’s way of acknowledging her sexuality. Kate felt bad
wearing the shirt now, when she knew her mother would no longer approve
of her wearing it because it was much too small.
Kate rummaged through her clothes drawer and took out a pair of
bikini hot pants. They were very soft stone-ground blue jeans, with
belt loops in them and a snap and a zipper, but they had no sides to
them, only a front and a back connected by a slim strip of fabric along
the waist. As if to enhance their appeal, they were adorned with a
white lace ruffle that ran all along both leg holes. Kate squeezed
herself into them and looked in the mirror. She’d have to be sure to
take her I.D. along to get into the club tonight. She looked like a
tramp from some junior high school.
Kate pulled on small ankle socks and tied on her tennis shoes.
Then she threw a coat over her little outfit, one made of black leather
so as not to hide her intentions too much, and she kissed the teddy bear
on her bed goodnight and left.
Kate saw him standing in the club, near the bar, steadying a
drink in his hand and looking too old to be there. He was watching the
college girls dance and he seemed to her as if he was acting nonchalant
when he really wasn’t. He had a long face and he was fashionably
unshaven, with stubble for a beard. He was wearing an Armani suit, a
little upper-crusty for a place where kids dressed like Kurt Cobain were
doing their best to act insane. Kate decided to tease him, since he
definitely needed someone to take him to task for being in the wrong
place, and she had nothing better to do anyway, except let frat boys paw
at her bosoms.
“Looking for your daughter?” Kate asked, sidling up next to
him. He hadn’t seen her coming. He looked quickly at Kate and almost
seemed to spill his drink. She gave him a snide pouty grin and
pretended like she was about to pass on.
“No,” he answered.
“Then what are you doing here?” Kate asked him.
“I’m the owner,” he answered.
“You don’t look like the owner,” Kate said. She felt an
excitement at his words and hoped he was lying to her.
“I usually live in New York,” he smiled. He was in control now
and she sensed he knew it. I own a lot of clubs. This is just one of
them.”
Kate felt a thrill run up her spine. She had an odd sensation
of wanting to undo the man’s zipper and see what he had under his
expensive Armani suit. She found her fingers lingering near his crotch,
in mid-air but still tentatively close to it, and she had to order them
away before she did something utterly unpredicatable and foolish. To
give her fingers something to do she put them to her half-unzipped
leather jacket and unzipped it the rest of the way.
Without even asking, the man reached out and slid Kate’s jacket
off her shoulders. He managed to hold his drink upright as he did it.
His eyes gazed down at her bulging braless bosoms, quivering under her
too small tee. Kate found herself still looking at the man’s crotch.
She seemed to see it thicken, but the light was bad and she tried not to
think of such things.
“Let’s dance,” the man said to her. It was less a request than
an order. He gave her jacket to someone to hold for her. Kate accepted
his hand and let him lead her out onto the dance floor.
The night was still young when Kate left the club with the
man. His name was Ben, and she rolled his name over and over again on
her tongue. He had a Lamborghini and she enjoyed very much riding in it
with him beside her. He spoke admiringly of her outfit and she kept her
leather jacket folded over her lap so he could admire it. Her boobs had
shown themselves a few times while they danced. He’d repaired her shirt
for her each time they’d come flying out. Now, she sensed, he was
taking her someplace where her shirt could come off completely.
“Do you trust me?” he asked her, looking across at her as they
drove through the city.
Kate thought a moment. “Yes,” she answered. Her legs were
pressed tightly together and she let her thighs fall open a little. Her
jacket, on her lap, covered them.
“Why?” the man asked. It was a normal question, she supposed,
for such a frightened age as the 1990’s.
“Because I know you’ll never hurt me,” she answered. She
smiled a little at her insouciance. She only knew his first name and he
only knew her as Kate. He could be anyone, and she knew he knew she
knew nothing about him.
“But if I did?” he asked.
“Then I would accept it,” she breathed.
He looked away. She felt a tremor of fear run up through her
belly. What was she doing? she scolded herself. Yet her belly was bare
and he glanced back at her, admiring it. Yes, he wanted to fill it, she
knew. And she guessed he knew what she knew.
“You are right. I would never hurt you,” he said to her. He
lifted his eyes to her breasts. “But it doesn’t mean I wouldn’t... test
you.”
“Test me?” she asked. She looked over at him. He looked back
at the traffic.
“Yes, all girls must be tested.” He spoke casually, but she
gazed at his crotch to see if he felt anything more and saw, with a
little leap of her heart, a bulge develop. “Not all the clubs I own are
dance clubs,” he said to her.
“Oh, really?” she asked. She felt her eyes widen and she
wished she didn’t look so naive.
“No, I have some other clubs too. Perhaps you’d like to see
the one I own here in town.”
“What’s it called?” she asked.
“It’s private. I don’t advertise it,” he said.
“Oh,” she answered.
“But it’s called the Point,” he said. She had not heard of
it. He asked if she had and she nodded ‘no,’ she hadn’t.
They stood within a room. It was on the penthouse floor of a
hotel. When Kate and Ben had gotten off the elevator they had been able
to admire the entire city. But then a woman had met them and led them
down a hall, lined with doors, and put them in a room together. She
stood now behind Ben and Kate, as if waiting for orders. She held the
door to the room closed behind her.
Kate gazed about. There were no windows in the room, despite
the glorious view of the city which glimmered beyond its closed walls.
The room was dominated by a big bed that sat in the middle of it. But
hanging above the bed was a big black whip and along the walls were more
implements, all meant to harm a girl.
“Are you sleepy?” Ben asked Kate.
“No,” Kate answered. She had felt a tremble run through her
from the moment they entered this room and she found her knees were
shaking and she couldn’t quiet them.
“Good, then we can use the bed for something else,” Ben said.
The woman came round in front of Kate and bent down and began
untying Kate’s sneakers. Kate watched her, wishing her legs would quit
shaking. The woman got each of Kate’s sneakers untied and pulled them
off her feet.
“Get up on the bed,” Ben told Kate. She interpreted his words
as an order and decided that since she was now locked in the room with
him she might as well do as he said. She walked as casually as she
could over to the bed, but she couldn’t help wiggling her bottom to
tease him. When she had climbed up onto the bed she knelt expectantly
on all fours and looked back at him. He went to the wall and took down
a cane. It was long and thin and made of bamboo.
Ben flexed the cane in his hands. They were big hands and he
was a big man and Kate felt small in his presence.
“Yes, we can use the bed for something else,” Ben said. “Take
off your shorts. Are you wearing panties underneath?”
“How could I be?” Kate asked. She knelt erect on the bed and
unsnapped her shorts and zipped them down.
“I’ve seen some very small panties in my day,” Ben smiled.
“Have you ever been caned before?”
“Caned?” Kate asked. With her shorts unzipped and her bush
showing she knelt on the bed and looked at him with her wide, girlish
eyes, wondering if she shouldn’t zip herself back up and make a break
for the door.
“You were practically a topless dancer in my club tonight,” Ben
told her. “I could lose my license for having that kind of
entertainment in my club. This is a conservative town.”
“Yes,” Kate said quietly. She knew it was. It bored the Hell
out of her.
“I told you to get your shorts off,” Ben told her. His voice
sounded severe. Kate wriggled them down a little, until all of her bush
showed. Still she wondered if she shouldn’t try to escape this man.
WHACK! The cane came down solidly on the bed. “Get them
completely off!” Ben growled at her. “I have to teach you a lesson for
being a bad girl in my club. Do you want extra swats?”
“N-No,” Kate gulped. She had thought the bed was about to lose
all its stuffing the way Ben had brought the cane down on it. Quickly
she yanked her shorts down the rest of the way, to her knees, and then
she sat back bare-bottomed on the coverlet of the bed and pulled them
down her calves to her feet. The woman, still nameless, came to the
bedside and leaned in over it and took hold of Kate’s shorts and removed
them completely from her. She folded them and put them in a dresser
drawer. The dresser had phials of lubricant and condoms on top of it.
It sat next to the wall. Dangling above the dresser, hung up on the
wall, were the whips and rattans and other implements, from which Ben
had chosen to take down the cane.
“Bend over. Show me your ass. You seem to enjoy wriggling it
around a lot,” Ben said to Kate. She looked at him and entertained a
defiant air on her face for a moment. Then, seeing he could be even
more steely eyed than she, Kate got on all fours on the bed again.
“God, what an ass!” Ben said. “I knew you had a sassy girlish
tush but It’s truly a work of art!” He walked up close to the bed and
stared at her behind. Kate bent her head down into the pillow at the
head of the bed and let his gaze linger over her heinie. “Have you ever
had anyone punish it before?” he asked finally.
Kate prayed her nose wouldn’t grow and answered, “No.” She
sensed something grow in him, as he stood behind her.
“I’ll try not to hit you too hard,” he said. But she sensed in
his rough voice that he might have difficulty restraining himself.
Kate glanced at the woman. She stood a little behind Ben with
her eyes lowered and her hands folded in front of her. They rested on
her pussy. She had a tight dress on and her hair had obviously been
elaborately prepared at a beauty salon for her evening’s work. She had
lovely brown hair that was curled and coiffed and piled up in abundance
on top of her head, with an excess that hung loosely in curls round her
face and down to the collar of her dress. It was a choker dress, with a
built in choker that wrapped her neck as tightly as it wrapped her
hips. It was sleeveless but she wore opera length gloves on her arms to
cover them. Her bust was substantial but not enormous. She had long
black boots that covered her legs, which would have otherwise been bare
for her dress was very short. Still, despite the length of her boots
her thighs showed their white tops, between the place where the boots
ended and her skirt stopped. Kate felt that if the woman threw her hips
forward her skirt would rise enough to show her crotch. But, of course,
the woman stood meekly, waiting for any instructions Ben might have for
her. Kate was glad the woman was not staring at her bare bottom. The
woman had met her and Ben at the door with lowered eyes and she had been
quiescent throughout, showing no emotion. Kate didn’t like having her
present but she realized it was necessary. Her master, Ben, couldn’t be
expected to assist her in all her little wants and troubles. The woman
was there to attend to Kate’s needs, and to heed Ben’s orders.
Kate felt confident. She knew the cane would hurt but she
wanted to be hurt a little, to feel her bottom glowing with stings
delivered by her master. Then the quiet slavewoman he owned would
pamper her afterward, perhaps cuddling her, certainly rubbing salve and
ointment into her bottom so it could be saved and healed and used again
by her master.
And, Kate knew, when her ass was streaked and red Ben would
mount her from behind and shove himself into her, taking her in
whichever hole pleased him, and she would feel very owned and complete
with him shafting himself so deeply into her. Already Kate could see
that he was quite big in his pants and she wanted to ask him to take
himself out, so she could see what awaited her. But she was afraid she
might sound like a slut asking, so instead she lifted her hand to her
face and balled it into a fist and bit it.
“Are you frightened?” Ben asked.
“Wouldn’t you be?” Kate replied. But, biting her fist and
showing her pearl-white teeth as she did, Kate knew she was only
frightened of herself. Why did she want so to be a slave? To be used
by a man and penetrated by him? Shouldn’t she want a nice boy her own
age? This man had lines on his face. Yet, as he stared at her, his
eyes growing colder, she knew why she wanted him. Because he would be
sweeter to her, and tougher on her as well. A college boy might blanch
at striking her bottom with a cane, if he even owned one. But Ben
wouldn’t. Yet, after he’d punished her, she was sure he would see that
she was exquisitely pampered. Kate felt her legs trembling at the
succor she’d be given after her beating. She guessed a penthouse like
this had hot baths and steam rooms and massage tables. Ben’s servant
would be utterly selfless in nursing her back to health. For every
stroke of the cane she suffered she would be given numerous kisses and
blandishments. Ben might even shower her with gifts. Rings, diamonds,
all was possible with a man of wealth like him.
Ben eyed Kate’s tushy. It was round and high and had a cleft
splitting the twin creamy cheeks that made his penis strain in his
pants. Kate’s face was cherubic and she looked so very young for her
age, more like a high school girl or even, if one were willing to let
the perversion enter one’s mind, a well-endowed eighth-grade girl in
junior high. Her body was small but her breasts hung down like ripe
fruit, big and swollen, perfect udders for a female cow in a barn full
of human girls made to perform like animals.
For, he knew, that’s where she was headed. He had lied to her
in the car and he hated himself for it. He was deeply in debt and only
by finding girls like Kate and selling them could he hope to escape. An
Arab trader was offering substantial sums for white females. But they
had to be trained. The Arab expected each girl to be wise in all
matters sexual, and to be willing to submit to whatever tortures might
take his fancy. He was building an English manor home in the Arabian
desert, and when it was complete he wished to stock the home and its
grounds with young women. Ben made a note to himself to make sure Kate
was well made-up before presenting her to the Sultan. He might balk if
she looked too young. But he was sure once the Sultan had paid for her
he’d find himself pleased, provided she was trained and completely
broken in and didn’t offer him any resistance. Ben knew he should have
found an older female at the nightclub and wondered, in a moment of
uncertainty, if he shouldn’t take Kate back and find someone else. She
was too young! his conscience admonished him. The Sultan would be
displeased and refuse to buy her, or pay for her and then want his money
back when Kate was stripped of her makeup.
Yet Ben knew he himself liked the youngest girls best. And
Kate had been so daring and sexy. He hadn’t been able to resist taking
her. Now she was staring up at him from the bed, watching him flex his
long cane and pass it over his open palm. He knew that because of her
wonderful breasts she’d be put to work in the Sultan’s barn. The Sultan
kept tall leggy models, with their traditionally small chests, for his
leisure and entertainment inside his quarters. But with a new manor
home, complete with a barn, the Sultan had told Ben that he wanted girls
to be cows. He desired big-breasted girls, girls he could have his
leggy models sit beside, bare-bottomed on little wooden stools, and
pretend to milk. A female like Kate would kneel in the hay, her head
caught and locked in a wooden stock, while the leggy model sat beside
her and worked her breasts. Kate would cry out as she felt her breasts
handled like objects, mere udders whose only duty would be to espress
milk.
There would be a metal pail beneath Kate’s breasts and when she
failed to produce milk she would be punished. Then, the Sultan had
assured Ben, he would impregnate her, and nine months later Kate, like
all the rest of the girls in the barn, would indeed express milk into
the metal buckets, once they’d birthed new children for the Sultan.
“Bring me women who are ready for fucking,” the Sultan had told
Ben, and Ben had agreed. Yet now he had a small delicate girl kneeling
before him, with adorable big bosoms but looking like she should be at
home doing her homework, under her father’s watchful eye. Ben gritted
his teeth and cursed himself for asking Kate to his Penthouse. He felt
certain the Sultan would reject her and refuse to do business with him.
In frustration Ben vowed to make Kate pay for what she’d gotten him
into. She’d been so flirtingly dressed and so daring and sexy, he’d
fallen for her instead of picking the right female that the Sultan would
be sure to take.
“She’ll need to be tied,” Ben snapped at his slavewoman. As he
watched her move quickly, he thanked himself for being wise enough to
keep her on his premises. She was in actuality a deeply fiery, tough
and disciplined young woman, who’d joined the Marines but been
discharged by them after they found her too hard to handle. Since then
she’d settled down a little, enough to hold a steady job, provided it
interested her. And she liked helping him run his penthouse. She liked
seeing the girls come in all fresh and giddy, and leave all worn out and
sleepy and walking with an awkward gait. And she liked seeing the young
men, handsome and sure of themselves, full of vigor, only to leave so
exhausted they could barely stand, but smiling, and vowing to return
again after they’d recovered. Ben marvelled at how meek and mild his
slavewoman could make herself. She took a pair of handcuffs down from a
shelf, choosing fur-lined ones though he knew she longed inside to see
Kate bound in raw steel cuffs, without any protection. Quietly his
slavewoman, Gilda by name, approached Kate and took her wrists between
her fingers, holding Kate’s slender wrists delicately as if they were
fine china. Gilda drew Kate’s wrists forward to the bed’s headboard and
wrapped the cuffs around a post in the middle of the headboard. She
locked Kate’s hands in the cuffs. She asked Kate to tug on the cuffs to
make sure she was unable to escape. Kate gulped and complied, Gilda
watched meekly, as if afraid Kate might hurt herself, pulling on the
cuffs with her small wrists bound inside them.
Gilda wasn’t really Ben’s slave, of course. He paid her
handsomely to perform her duties. When they occasionally had sex, real
sex, on their own time, she always insisted on making Ben her slave.
She forced him to beg and crawl like a dog and she insisted on putting
painful clamps on his nipples. She liked trapping his penis and balls
in a latex jock strap that left him no room at all. When he was sweaty
with need and couldn’t stand being penned in anymore, she would cut his
dick free with a sharp knife, ruining the latex jock and always running
the risk of depriving him of his manhood. Then she would ride him with
an awesome power. When she was finished with him he would be so drained
that he wouldn’t even notice that his balls were still trapped inside
the jock. They’d be so depleted it was as if they didn’t exist anymore.
As Gilda bent over the bed, working with Kate, her skirt rose
up in back, showing Ben the underside of her bottom. She had a perfect
ass and it spread its cheeks for him as she bent over the bed. Ben felt
a sudden need to spill and he barely restrained his seed. Gilda had no
panties on. Her sex was visible to him, between her close-pressed legs,
and he longed to thumb open her cheeks and see her hiney-hole. Gilda
kissed Kate’s cheek and told her not to worry and then stood upright
again. Reaching behind herself, she drew down and straightened her
dress. The sight of her restoring herself made Ben want to shoot all
over again, and he had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from
doing it.
“Her legs... do her legs also,” Ben told Gilda. “But open them
first with a spreader bar so I can admire her holes.”
“Yes, master,” Gilda said quietly. He saw her face, so placid,
so obedient, and grinned at her perfect submission. She gave no hint of
her true nature. She went to the shelf on the wall and fetched a
spreader bar and two ankle cuffs, with chain link leads to secure them
to the bed’s baseboard. Returning to Kate, Gilda forced her knees
apart. Ben watched again as Gilda’s skirt scooted up, showing her ass
to him.
Kate seemed a little resistant at having herself spread so wide
and Gilda was forced to slap her bottom to make her comply. The
handprint faded quickly. Gilda had not hit her hard. Kate twisted her
head round and watched as Gilda wrapped each of her ankles in straps.
Then Gilda attached Kate’s ankles to the base of the bed. She put a
spreader bar between Kate’s legs to keep her from closing herself. Ben
stared at Kate’s marvelous bottom and hoped he could make money off
her. He hated training women and housewives. Girls were much more fun,
but the Sultan was a picky fat toad and might reject her for being too
girlish. Her bottom was obviously tight and Ben knew that would be a
problem. He would have to break her in with a series of dildos, until
she could accept the really big dildos that the Sultan liked. Again Ben
cursed himself for choosing such a small girl. It would take a lot of
work to get this slight-bodied little female with her Junior High ass to
take what the Sultan expected her to.
“Give her a drink to make it easier for her,” Ben ordered
Gilda. He saw Kate blanch but he said nothing to her. He would need to
cane her hard, harder even than he wished, to make her ready for the
butt-blistering punishments that he knew the Sultan liked doling out to
his slaves. In the barn, she would be punished daily for refusing to
give milk. Each day a slim-bodied model would sit down beside her and
pump her big, full breasts, but the Sultan would be disappointed when he
saw no milk come out. Then he’d beat her. Looking at Kate, Ben knew
instinctively that she wouldn’t be made pregnant right away, after the
first failure of her breasts to give milk. At least, if he were the
Sultan, he wouldn’t make her pregnant after just one failed milking.
He’d punish her bottom for months, at least. Ben felt himself almost on
the verge of spending again. His mind was awhirl with how he’d have to
train this small girl and make her ready for the Sultan, and with what
the Sultan would do to her once he got her. Would that fat old toad
really impregnate this girl upon her arrival? Or would he keep her as a
cow-pet, as Ben certainly would, trying her breasts every day to see if
they had any milk for him? Ben longed to be the Sultan himself. How
splendid it would be to live in a big Victorian mansion, surrounded by
trees in the vastness of the Arabian desert where no one could
interfere, ever, with his playthings. He’d awaken to the soft touches
of New York models and sport with his big-busted centerfold girls in the
barn, making them behave like cows and never impregnating any of them,
for he liked them too much as they were, unmarried girls. But he knew
that after no more than a month, at most, the Sultan would force Kate
into motherhood and make her pregnant with his Arab seed. She would
bear a son for him, or perhaps a daughter, the daughter to be made to
conform to Arab purity in a chador while Kate herself, the mother, lay
nude in the barn, perhaps pregnant again with another child for her
Sultan master. Ben hated himself for selling her but he owed too many
people too much money not to. He could wind up dead in an alley
somewhere if he didn’t come up with the needed money soon. A younger
man might have played the hero and challenged the odds by saving Kate
from her fate. But Ben was just mature enough to value his own skin
above that of any nubile college girl, no matter how perfect her bottom
and her breasts, and how lovely her face.
Gilda asked Kate whether she would prefer a brandy, or gin, or
vermooth. There was a tiny bar built in to the shelving that lined the
wall. It had no sink but it did have a collection of small bottles and,
in a dish covered with cellophane, slices of lemon and lime, mixed with
ice to keep them chilled. The bottles sat on a flat plastic slab of
Blue Ice, recently taken from the penthouse freezer and still quite
cold.
“The vermooth, I guess,” Kate said in a childish voice. Gilda
popped a bottle open and poured it into an empty glass and added a wedge
of lime. She presented it to Kate’s lips and, since Kate was cuffed,
she slowly poured it into Kate’s mouth for her. All the while Ben eyed
Kate’s bottom, which rotated apprehensively in the cool air, above the
soft bed where she should have found comfort but was about to find pain
instead. Gilda patted Kate’s head when she was finished and asked Ben
if she should be gagged. Ben nodded. Working quickly, as if she were
bridling a horse or a pony, Gilda fitted a black gag between Kate’s
teeth and then secured it behind her neck. Kate looked at herself in a
mirror and Ben saw her face pale. Then she blushed a little, as Gilda
pushed her head down into the pillow on the bed. Behind her the lovely
cheeks of her bottom rose higher as her face was pushed down into the
pillow.
“She’s ready, sir,” Gilda said to Ben.
Kate heard Ben as he strode up behind her. The floor was
carpeted but she could hear his shoes on the carpet if she listened
closely. He ran out the length of cane and she tensed her bare bottom.
He lifted his arm high. She wanted to look up at him but instead she
closed her eyes and waited, heinie tensed, for the first blow to fall.
SWIIIICK! The cane bounced across Kate’s bottom with a
firmness even she hadn’t expected. It bit her deeply, cutting into both
her cheeks right at their apex, where they stuck out furthest. Kate
howled at the burning sensation and shook her bottom in the air to cool
it.
“My, she must want more, look how boldy she offers her seat to
you, sir,” Gilda said, breaking her meek faceless facade. Ben frowned
at her. She should be quiet, he told himself. The last thing he needed
was for Gilda to resort to her true self, unpredictable and fiery and
unmanageable. Gilda seemed to sense that he wished her to remain
compliant and, smiling to herself, she bowed her head and pretended not
to look at Kate’s ordeal.
WHICCK! Ben hit Kate again and watched as the girl drew in her
bottomcheeks, squeezing them protectively together as she offered up a
wailing, pitiful screech. He hit her again while she was still
squeezing herself, to let her know that nothing could protect her bare
fanny from him. Kate was clearly unprepared for such a swift followup
blow and she seemed to lose her self-control, bursting into tears as the
cane swatted her. He was glad he had gagged her for she was obviously a
novice in bottom-discipline. He knew he would have to take her farther,
even on this first night, than any of her boyfriends might have, with
their playful spanks or their pants belts.
Ben slammed another stroke of the cane into Kate’s bottom and
watched as a welt developed. She would have to get used to having a
welted bottom, he told himself. He would take her just short of
bleeding, and then train her to sit on her bottom despite its welts,
eating at meals on a big pillow and squirming the whole time because she
could get no relief for her seat.
Kate cried into her pillow as blow after blow fell on her
bottom. It was much more than she’d expected. Ben was a true master,
flaying her despite her beauty, giving no regard to her screams or her
shouts, all of them muffled, of course, by the insidious gag which bound
her teeth apart and kept her mouth shut even though it was open. Kate
wished she hadn’t selected Ben to give her the adventure she wished
for. He was too rough, too mean, she assured herself, and yet as each
blow of the cane fell and she ground her pretty face into her pillow she
felt a distinct buzzing between her legs, a natural buzzing, and she
wondered why her clitty felt so aroused at having her bottom flayed like
this. She longed to touch herself but her hands were securely cuffed to
the bed’s headboard. All below her was softness, the pillow, the
sheets, yet her bottom was sore and getting sorer every minute. It
burned like the sun and yet Ben gave it new strokes to remember. Slap
after slap of the cane sizzled its narrow trail across her heinie. Each
left a welt for her to remember it by. Kate sobbed and felt herself
utterly helpless, no longer a teasing flirting girl but just a mound of
prettily weeping flesh. Sometimes she shouted, like a girl in a girl’s
gym class, but instead of playing soccer or basketball she was playing
at a very painful game of love.
At last, far beyond what Kate thought she could endure, Ben
dropped the cane to the floor. Kate opened her eyes, still squeezing
her bottomcheeks frantically, and saw through a tear-filmed mist Gilda
taking a large dildo down from a shelf near the bar. Gilda squirted the
dildo with baby oil to make it slick and Kate felt a knot in her tummy
as she feared the dildo might be used in her ass.
“It’s not big enough,” Kate heard Ben say to Gilda. The woman,
usally meek, looked at Ben with flashing eyes.
“It’s the most she can take... for now,” Gilda said to Ben.
Kate was surprised that Gilda would stand up for her but, when Ben
relented, Kate felt even more afraid, for the dildo Gilda had selected
still looked larger than anything Kate had ever been forced to accept
before. Gilda patted Kate’s head and then moved down to her
still-wriggling tail. Kate felt fingertips stroke her cunny and prayed
the dildo was meant for her cunt. But then the softly exploring
fingertips slipped back between the cheeks of her bottom and pried at
her hole.
“No!” Kate screeched into her gag, but Gilda already had her
fingertips in Kate’s anus and Kate found she couldn’t close herself off
to Gilda, no matter how hard she squeezed. Suddenly, giving a cry of
alarm, Kate felt a big bulging visitor inquiring within the opened hole
of her rectum. It nosed itself inside, splitting her stricken cheeks
wide apart. Kate shouted but nobody listened. The visitor bulged more
deeply into her and Kate felt as if her ass were going to be plugged up
with a giant turd.
Deeper and deeper the dildo went. Kate, trying to escape,
lifted herself, rising up as high as she could, like a cat showing its
fur.
“Dip, dip your back,” Gilda said to Kate, and slapped her
bottom. Immediately Kate complied for the slap, coming on top of her
already wounded bottom, made it ring like a bell with pain. Gilda used
the opportunity of Kate’s properly presented heinie to shove the dildo
in deeper.
When Kate felt herself uncomfortably filled with the dildo,
Gilda began drawing it out. But no sooner had Kate begun to breathe a
sigh of relief than Gilda rammed it back up her again, making Kate
scream. In and out the dildo went now, suprising even Kate that it
could move so in her ass, for her bottom was small and tight and Kate
had never been violated like this before, she was sure, though she had
attempted some rather large things in the past, thanks to Marie. The
dildo moved in and out of her like an indecisive turd, not sure whether
it wanted to poop out of her, forever changing its mind as it slid back
up her, then began drawing down again, only to rise up again within
her. Kate felt herself lose all of the little self-control she had
left. She sobbed and wept and let Gilda ream her with the dildo, unable
to stop it, only able to feel its awful length as it worked her.
After Kate had been thoroughly fucked by the dildo Gilda
reluctantly drew it out. Ben was unzipping himself and wanted to fuck
Kate and could wait no longer. Gilda watched Ben get on the bed and she
watched his penis pop from his underpants. She accepted its length in
her hands and squeezed him a little to ease some of his tension, for he
would be squeezed mightily, she knew, in Kate’s girlish cunt, and she
wanted him to last inside her so she’d respect him. Gilda squirted some
baby oil on Ben’s cock to help him slip within her more readily. Then
she drew him close to Kate’s pussy and let him do the rest. With a
shout Kate received him. Ben fucked Kate lustily, his cheeks puffing as
she resisted him with schoolgirlish misgivings. His hairy belly banged
against her raw hurt bottom. At last, unable to endure her tempting
clenching cunt any longer, Ben shot his seed deep into her womb. He
prayed Kate had taken a Pill for he realized the Sultan wouldn’t want
her if she were pregnant. Lost in misgiving, he felt his seed flood
her. He would be found dead in an alley if he couldn’t sell her because
he’d gotten her pregnant. Ben curseed her beauty and her innocent
sensousness. He wished he’d hit her bottom even harder and promised
himself that he would as soon as she’d recovered from this night.
30
----------------------- Dreamgirls! -----------------------
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