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From: Andrew Roller <roller39@IDT.NET>
Subject: Labors of Love part 3 of 10 (NND)
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_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
LABORS OF LOVE
_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
Chapter Three
She had lost her cherry. After it was over and the bodies had
disentangled and happy last kisses had been exchanged, Chip found
himself standing behind Ginger. She shoved her bottom out at him and
told him it hurt. She asked him to “check” it for her. He felt angry
that he had not been the one to pop her. Yet now, like a daughter
consulting a father, or a little sister consulting a wise older brother,
Ginger stuck her child’s bottom out at him and asked him to make sure it
was okay.
Chip stood behind Ginger and put a hand on her shoulder. It
was small and frail, as a 12-year-old girl’s shoulder should be. Her
back was slim and her hips were just beginning to swell, giving them a
nice curve, but one that was still a distinctly underage curve. The
result was that her bottom was still small and pert, with a bulging,
almost uptilted roundness to the cheeks that Chip found utterly
mesmerizing.
“Ow!” Ginger protested. His hand on her shoulder had assumed a
disciplinary squeeze. He reached down behind her and pried open her
bottomcheeks with his other hand.
“Don’t tense yourself,” he said gruffly. The girl wanted her
bottom looked at and yet, childishly, she squeezed her cheeks together
even as he tried to look between them. He hated her for letting another
man do her. Yet, at the same time, he loved thinking of her as she lay
so freely and selflessly on the mat, letting whomever wished to have at
her bottom as she licked at Chip’s balls. Her nibbling had been a true
pleasure to him as he’d fucked first Sally, then Beth, and finally, the
females still not letting him up, Laurie. Each one had insisted on a
ride on his pego and he’d jetted into each, so that now he was a small
shrivelled shadow of his former self, even as little Ginger pushed her
glorious bare bottom out at him and asked him to do whatever he needed
to do with it to assure her that it was fine.
With deep concern for her, for he (and even she) had no idea
who the man had been who fucked her, he pushed her huddling cheeks apart
and bent down and peered at her still tiny hole. Sperm bubbled from
within it. Yes, she’d been fucked, he realized, and he burned with new
anger at her for letting someone besides himself have her.
“He may have torn some rectal tissue,” Chip said bitterly.
Ginger tensed suddendly, quite frightened, thinking his words were a
pronouncement upon her condition. But he was only angry, and
speculating. He had to fight to get her cheeks apart again and he
scolded her for being so tense.
He knelt down. She let out little hisses as he yanked her
little cheeks rippingly wide apart and stared up at her little hole. He
inserted two fingers between the wriggling warm halves of her bottom and
stretched her hole open a little.
“No, I don’t see any blood,” he said finally. She whooshed
out a big breathy sigh of relief.
He stood up and turned her around. They were both naked, the
last two in the mat room. A mixture of male and feminine odors hung in
the room. The mat was as bare as when they’d entered, even the
discarded clothing around it having been retrieved and carried away, or
put back on. But the pillows looked semi-squashed instead of fresh and
plump. And there were several copious stains of bodily fluid where some
man, or perhaps himself in combination with a female, had left a remnant
of themselves and their pleasure.
Ginger offered him her 12-year-old breasts like a child might
offer its tummy, thrusting them at him and standing meekly, obedient yet
satisfied. He glared down at her. A smile crossed her face. He saw
she was looking at his cock. It was quite thoroughly used up, though it
had been huge and hard just an hour earlier. Painfully hard, yet now it
was feeble, like an old man’s cock. It looked like it might never arise
again. Ginger stuck out a finger and tried to play it across his
organ. He shoved her back a little, angrily.
“Why do men’s Things get so small after they’ve finished?”
Ginger asked.
“Never mind why. Why are you even here?” Chip snarled.
“I’m having fun,” Ginger answered. “Why are you here?” She
looked up at him impishly. Her hand darted out and tried to touch his
penis again but he held her back.
“I’m 21,” Chip barked at her. “You’re only 12.”
“Well it’s all your fault,” Ginger smirked. “You deflowered me
in Annette and Dave’s bed, remember? I could still get you in trouble.
I could tell on you and you’d have to go to ja-a-i-i-l.” Ginger drew
out the last word gleefully. But no shiver ran down Chip’s spine. He
knew she was toying with him. Perhaps she’d been toying with him on the
mat, too. But he’d lost. He’d let himself be overwhelmed by the women
and now he’d forever be deprived of taking her anal cherry. Yet he
admired her, somehow. He admired how they’d both put themselves at the
mercy of others on the mat, she sticking her bottom out even while
nibbling his balls, he succumbing to the wiles of Laurie and Beth and
Sally. He had no idea where those females were now. Partying out in
the other room, or perhaps in another ‘grope’ room, doing it all over
again. And her lover was gone too. Quite possibly Ginger would never
see him again. Yet she’d been bold, and brave, and not scared when most
girls would have been. She’d let him have her, even as he kissed
another woman. It had been a meeting of loins, nothing else. They
hadn’t even kissed.
The ‘group grope.’ Chip had experienced it in its fullness.
And little Ginger too.
“How often have you been here?” Chip asked. He was still
angry. It was a brooding anger, a male anger. He loved her
sluttishness and yet somehow he felt he’d been cheated. When he’d left
Annette’s, and Dave’s, and seen Ginger’s bedroom light come on, he’d
somehow thought of her as a chaste princess, high up in a tower, whom
only he could visit, she remaining virginal until he returned to claim
her. Yet now here she was, as healthily embroiled in sex as he was, as
free with herself as he was, yet she was only 12 years old! Chip
remembered himself at 12. He’d still been playing G.I. Joes then. He
still fancied himself a Master of the Universe, destined to battle
Skeletor in endless backyard wars with his neighborhood pals. Yet this
little darling slut was giving herself away, and apparently had other
men in the meantime, since he’d deflowered her, only a short time ago.
Ginger felt the brooding of Chip’s anger and seemed to enjoy
it. Perhaps it was only the intensity of attention that he was giving
her that she enjoyed. She stood very meekly in front of him, all warm
and naked. A shiver passed through her small body, as if he frightened
her. Then she gave another little smile. Not to him, but to herself,
looking down at his cock.
He shook her. Her pigtails flew about, he shook her so
violently. She gasped and looked up at him. Her bellybutton dimpled
her belly and his dimpled his and they were both entirely naked, raw and
naked and sexually satisfied, but he was angry as a young male sometimes
is. Irrationally angry.
“You are very naughty for running around and club-hopping like
this,” Chip barked at her. “I guess I can’t tell your parents because
then I’d get in trouble for starting it all, so I’m going to take charge
of your moral education myself. You must be punished, there’s simply no
other way around it.”
Chip felt his penis stir as he spoke the words. And Ginger
saw, and though she seemed a little frightened, she seemed pleased that
he was hardening. And he sensed that she hadn’t missed the reason he
was becoming excited. It was at the thought of taking her small body
under his Will and doing with it whatever he pleased. With no
restraints, no restrictions. And he sensed she would let him. And this
thought enflamed him more, though it also made him feel again that she
was some “Kids Only” slut, doing what she knew was wrong, and teasing
him with it, drawing him in even as he mastered her physically.
“We are going to have it out, you and I,” he said to her. His
voice was exceptionally deep and commanding. “I’m going to find
someplace where I can take you and discipline you. You have to be
taught to be a Good Girl and you’ve strayed too far for me to just count
on you behaving yourself on your own.”
Chip’s penis grew. It became longer and longer as he spoke,
like Pinnochio’s nose. Ginger reached for him again and this time,
though he shoved her back, gripping her shoulders and trying to keep her
away from him, she managed to touch him. It was a light touch. She did
not grab hold of him as Laurie and Beth and Sally had. Instead, her
touch was light and exploratory, like a child afraid to touch a worm it
finds in the dirt and yet wanting very much to handle it. She brushed
her fingers playfully across his pee hole.
“DO YOU HEAR ME?!” Chip bellowed. He shook her again, hard,
making her pigtails fly, and she lost contact with his prick, but then
regained it as soon as he stopped, for he was very long and hard now.
She cupped her palm beneath his dickhead and he throbbed hotly on her
small, soft hand.
“I’m deadly serious,” Chip told her. He was angry and
frustrated and he was hot with himself for becoming hard at the prospect
of disciplining her little, junior high body. He should be thinking
only of women and yet, here he was, standing naked in a mat room, a
well-used mat room, with a small pigtailed girl who belonged at home
asleep in her bedroom, safe with her stuffed animals. “I’m going to
rent and dungeon or find a dungeon and we are going to go at it, you and
I. I’m going to teach you proper behavior and--” he paused. She was
fondling his cockhead with her little fingers, her fingers which, just a
few years ago, no doubt while he was still in the Army, doing man’s
work, had been drawing with crayons and playing with Play-Doh. He was
forced to grit his teeth and strive with himself not to cum on her
enquiring little fingers. “A dungeon, do you hear me? And I’m going to
strip you naked, and you’re going to be taught a lesson in good
behavior.” He saw her sigh, a big, childish sigh, sticking out her
tummy, and yet as she sighed her lovely small breasts quivered and he
couldn’t help noticing, again, that they’d swelled since he saw her
last, and become fuller and heavier. “A dungeon,” he said through
gritted teeth. “And there will be a woman present, as a chaperone, so
she can attest that I didn’t do it to you for my own pleasure, but to
make you behave and learn what 12-year-old girls are supposed to, and
NOT supposed to do!”
She wriggled from his grasp. As he concentrated on not
spurting into her hand he’d let his grip on her shoulders loosen. Her
waif-like figure escaped him and she knelt quietly in front of him. She
took his cock into her hands and then, opening her mouth very wide, she
popped him between her teeth. She closed her lips softly on him, on the
knob of his cockhead. She sucked. He wondered if he’d somehow become a
human lollipop. She licked at his peehole openly and freely, with no
hesitation at all, no shame. She fluttered her tongue under his
sensitive knob’s underside. She grabbed his shaft like a stick-shift
and yanked on it.
“Aughghghg!” Chip hollared. Against all his wishes, he spurted
into her mouth. He had never cum so fast in his life and he knew it was
somehow related to the punishment he’d promised her. And her response.
Yes, she should have torn herself from his hands and fled but instead,
like Polly Klaas not crying out for help when she should have, Ginger
knelt and sucked on his cock. Well, he was no killer and he had no
intention of strangling her, Chip reassured himself. And then, even as
he assured himself of his Justness and his Virtue, he pressed himself
hard into the back of her mouth. Ginger choked on his hardness. He
rammed his still-spurting, still iron-hard cock deeper into her, down
her throat, making her take all of him. She yelped in protest. He
pumped and pumped and filled her. Then, perhaps at the last moment,
when she was about to expire upon his cock, he drew back, and she was
able to take in a gulp of air.
Ginger gasped. She let go of him and put a hand to her breasts
and sighed deeply and took in another hungry breath. Chip spurted the
last of his cum into her face. She might have twisted her head away but
she was so intent on breathing again, after suffering under his
hardness, that she simply kept her face pointing into his cock. He shot
all over her face, wondering where all the copious new sperm was coming
from. She blinked her eyes and looked up at him through a mask of white
sperm.
Gently Chip reached down and lifted Ginger to her feet. She
was so little, her head only came up to his chest. Even as she gasped
for a new breath of air she bumped her nose against his chest and,
feeling the hair of her chest tickling her nose, she sneezed. And then,
quite impulsively, she kissed his chest.
“I love you,” Chip breathed hotly to her.
“Why is there so much hair on your chest?” Ginger replied in a
high inquisitive voice. “You’ve got HAIR all over you!” She tugged at
hair growing beneath his navel.
“Because I’m a man,” Chip answered. “I’m not one of your
boyfriends in junior high.”
“I don’t have any boyfriends in junior high,” Ginger replied
snippily. Her voice still came in gasps from receiving so much of him
for so long down her throat.
“Well, good. I’m glad to hear it. You’re too young to have a
boyfriend,” Chip said.
“No I’m not,” Ginger answered. Chip felt like they were
somehow husband and wife, having a newlywed’s fight. He turned her
around and promptly smacked her bottom to remind her of her status. She
was just a child, a pubescent 12-year-old child, nothing more!
Ginger rubbed her bottom and for once seemed angry with him.
And he knew why. It was because of what he was thinking as he slapped
her fanny, that she MUST be a small child and never a woman. He leaned
forward. He felt truly regretful. He kissed her cheek, tenderly.
“I’m sorry. You’re not so little,” he said. “You’re really
not.”
“I know,” she piped up. “I’m glad you recognize it.” She
stuck out her breasts, showing him, yes proving to him, that she was not
the little baby he kept trying to make her into. Her bathtime wasn’t at
eight o’clock anymore.
They kissed. For a long time they stood there kissing, she
with her back to him, showing him her breasts, thrusting them out for
all they were worth. He pressed his loins to her and rubbed himself
against her. He prayed he might stiffen again but his last discharge
had been all he had, at least for this evening. Someone looked in the
room but, seeing them occupied, left them to themselves.
When finally Chip broke from her lips (or perhaps it was she,
it didn’t matter, they had kissed for a long time) he said to her: “I
still think you’re way too naughty for your age.” She smiled. A small,
approving smile, as if she weren’t about to disagree with a big man with
such an agreeable penis. Even if he couldn’t get it up for a fifth time
in one night.
“I’m taking you home,” he said. “Let’s go find the showers and
clean up.”
They bathed each other. Standing in a gang shower at the back
of the club, he soaped her and she soaped him. Although their goal was
to get clean, halfway through he found himself hard and they took a
break and rinsed and lay down on a bench in the shower room and he
plunged himself into her virginal cunt and fucked her hard and
discharged in her, making them both messy again. Then they returned to
the shower. Others had come in as they fucked, and were showering,
playing and showering, and they smiled at Chip and Ginger. The two
lovers, ten years apart in age but sharing most everything else, smiled
back. When they were done washing each other they found their clothes
in the mat room and dressed. Then Chip took her out to his trusty
Camaro and drove her home. On the ride home he began to grow stiff
again, amazed at his prowess. Outside her house they kissed. Her
parents were out at a late-night party. She played her hand over his
trousers, arousing him, but it was too late for anything more. After
they’d kissed, she left his car and went into her house. As Chip turned
to go, pivoting his car around in the street, he saw a car approaching.
It turned into Ginger’s driveway. Her parents! Yet they had no idea
she’d been with him, or even out club-hopping, and they took no notice
of the Camaro that cruised by.
A week later he found a dungeon for them to play in. It was in
the next state, and he would have to drive her there. It was part of a
bordello, and he would have to rent the dungeon, but the madam, a young
woman, took a liking to him, perhaps even an intense liking, and she
promised to give him a break on the price. She also let on that she’d
be more than happy to superivse their play, for Chip knew absolutely
nothing about sexual discipline and he knew (or, rather, he reminded
himself, he prayed) little Ginger didn’t know anything about it either.
And then, either because the road to Hell is paved with gold,
or perhaps because Pagan gods rule the Heavens after all, and Jove,
being not pure himself, looks with kind eyes on illicit love, a miracle
happened. Ginger’s parents told her they were going on a vacation,
which was in fact a second honeymoon. She was a little too old for a
sitter, so they let Annette be her de-facto sitter.
Of course Ginger’s parents had no idea that it was in Annette’s
bed that Chip had deflowered Ginger. They were quite certain their
daughter was a virgin. And they had no idea that Annette played bondage
games with her husband. Hearing from Ginger in her sweet, innocent
voice, how her parents were going away, Chip felt a thrill of forbidden
delight course through him. He had no idea she was talking to him on a
Mickey Mouse phone, for he had never been in her bedroom, but if he’d
known that he would have been even more excited. Yet he was still
conflicted, and as he realized that she was open to him, and nothing
could stop him from taking her and training her as he wished, he still
promised himself that it would not be sexual. He would only teach her
how to behave like a proper 12-year-old girl, nothing more. He would be
the older brother she needed, for this was a job no parent could
handle. They could never cope with the idea that their daughter was a
club-hopping slut, doing ‘group gropes’ in mat rooms. But Chip could
handle it, just like a mature older brother could. Ginger’s problem, he
assured himself, was mainly that she was an only child. Her parents
would shut out any evidence of her not being the precious little
innocent vessel they imagined her to be. Even telling them of her
activities would do no good. (And it didn’t help that he’d been the one
to deflower her.) No, Ginger needed guidance, and only Chip could
provide it. Not the unknown man who’d taken her anal cherry in the mat
room. Not Dave, who Chip still felt resentment toward, for the man
seemed a strange mixture of rage and jealousy, and it was because of him
that he didn’t even dream of trying to train little Ginger at
Annette’s. Yet train her he must, and he would pay for it. All she had
to do was show up. In her cutest clothes, of course, he added, thinking
to himself, and he knew somehow all his promises to himself were worth
about as much as Confederate money.
Ginger, for her part, was enthused about the idea of putting
herself in a man’s hands and being his girlfriend and his toy and his
plaything and going someplace with him where no one could interfere.
She loved and admired Chip deeply, though she never quite let on to him
how much she loved him, for that would somehow have spoiled it, and
given him too much power in their relationship. She assured herself, as
she primped in a mirror in her bedroom, waiting for him to arrive, to
pick her up and take her away, that it was only a little trip, and
nothing extraordinary would really happen. She told her teddy bear that
she’d be back by evening, or tommorrow morning at the latest, and in the
meantime she’d get to ride around in Chip’s Camaro and see other girls,
much older than she, riding around with their boyfriends in their
boyfriend’s cars. Yet she knew, also, that Chip was almost a decade
older than she. He was too old to ‘just’ be her boyfriend. Somehow
their relationship was deeper and broader than that. He saw himself as
her older brother, as a father substitute, as the uncle she lacked but,
perhaps, needed quite badly. And she felt a little queasy in the pit of
her tummy because she knew it wasn’t just going to be a little innocent
trip in Chip’s Camaro. They were going to do more, whether they
believed it or not. Much more. And she would come back home different
from the person she was today.
If she came back. There was always that possiblilty. She was
only 12-years-old, and she was quite well aware of all the missing girls
her age on the milk cartons. But Chip was no stranger. He’d been in
the Army, and been honorably discharged. Ginger looked in the mirror.
Her teddy bear sat on her bed, staring at her. She wanted to put on
more lipstick but Chip had told her he didn’t like it when she ‘overdid’
her makeup, which she didn’t think of as overdoing it but which he
assured her was overdoing it. She decided she might have already put
too much on and she took a tissue from her Care Bears tissue box and
wiped some off. There. She turned and looked at her teddy bear.
“I want to look grown up but he doesn’t like it when I look
grown up,” she told her teddy bear. Then she tugged at her skirt. It
was impossibly short. It was actually a skirt she’d outgrown but she
liked wearing it becase it had a nice leathery feel to it. “I’ll bet he
doesn’t mind the skirt,” she said, smiling at her bear. The bear stared
back with blank approval. She reached beneath her skirt and lifted her
panties carefully out of her bottomcrack. They were white panties and
she wasn’t particularly fond of white panties anymore. Especially
these, which kept cinching up in her bottomcrack and wedging into the
lips of her pussy. But Annette had told her to wear them. She’d talked
with her in her bedroom for a little while, Ginger’s bear on her lap,
and she’d given her some female advice. About Pills which Ginger now
had in a small vial in her purse. And about condoms, which men should
wear, particularly if Ginger had never met them before. And in talking
she’d gone through Ginger’s underwear drawer and picked out some panties
for Ginger to wear, and watched her try them on. And she’d decided that
the silky soft pair that Ginger hadn’t worn much, because she’d lost it
underneath her Fairy Godmother Halloween mask, which she inexplicably
kept in her underwear drawer, was the best pair to wear. But it was a
pair she’d gotten from her aunt a year ago and it was too small.
Annette assured her, though, that it was her very best pair, better even
than the black underwear she’d gotten recently at a club, for it was
white and pure and Chip, Annette told her, liked her in white, pure
panties, even if he’d never admit it to himself. And he liked her in a
very short skirt, one that let him see her white panties by ‘accident,’
when a breeze blew or Ginger walked with an especially inviting wiggle.
Ginger walked back and forth in front of her mirror. She
practised walking by crossing her legs as she walked, which made her
bottom move more freely. She checked her skirt again. It was awfully
short and she had to tug it down a little to get it to cover her
bottom. Then she bent and kissed her teddy bear goodbye. As she bent
she knew she was offering a perfect view of her white panties, and she
felt them slip up again into her bottomcrack, showing her assflesh.
Ginger stood erect and fixed her panties again. They were quite a
nuisance. She wondered if she should change into a different pair but
she decided not to. She respected Annette’s opinion. She wished
Annette were coming with them. Then, suddenly, she heard Chip’s horn
sound. She grabbed her purse and darted downstairs. Her parents had
left on their trip an hour ago, their second honeymoon. Little did they
know their daughter was going on her first honeymoon. And it was
without even the necessity of a marriage. Ginger felt a thrill tingle
all the way down her spine as she rushed through the front door of her
house and slammed it shut and made for Chip’s car.
The state line was not too far away and although it violated
the Mann Act for Chip to drive Ginger across the state line, he did so
speculating on the essential Virtue of his act, for he knew nothing of
the Mann Act but did still kid himself into thinking that he was going
to somehow benefit Ginger, in a Pure and Holy way, by taking her to a
bordello and teaching her how to behave in the depths of a rented
dungeon.
For her part, Ginger was on her second lollipop. It was a big
swirled Lemon/Cherry lollipop and, looking across at her, at the way her
lipstick smeared a little as she licked away at her lollipop, Chip
wondered if the Lemon part would prevail, or the Cherry part, for he was
21 and she was only 12 and, given their ages, anything could happen. He
was legal and she was quite illegal. Even a rest stop might prove a
problem, although he could of course swear he was her father. Then he
considered, looking again at her, and decided that, if challenged, he’d
better swear he was her older brother. He looked too young to be her
father, even if he had spent four long years in the Army.
“I see a license plate from Florida!” Ginger cried. She
pointed at the car ahead of them. “I always wanted to go to Florida.
Could we go to Florida?”
“It’s about 3,000 miles away,” Chip replied. “I don’t have
enough money to take us to Florida.”
Ginger settled back into her seat and resumed licking her
lollipop. “Oh well, it’s a nice license plate,” she said. “I like the
palm trees on it.”
“Yeah, I like them too,” Chip answered.
“I’ll bet I can see license plates from all 50 states before
you can!” Ginger gushed.
“Hmmm, probably,” Chip answered. He wondered if he should turn
around and take her back home. Here he was, a graduate of the United
States Army, driving around with a girl who still played license plate
games. And then he remembered that she also went club-hopping, and a
new anger burned within him, remembering how she’d let herself lose her
cherry to a man she didn’t even know and who’d never even asked her name
and kissed her. And he gripped the wheel of his Camaro with a new
determination and assured himself that he, only he, could correct this
girl, and she very much needed correction.
The bordello was nestled amist a forest of cacti. Chip
navigated between them, his Camaro hitting an inconspicuous dirt road as
he closed in on the house of ill repute. It was out in the middle of
nowhere, yet it apparently did a thriving business. He saw pickups
parked outside it and old beat up cars, looking like their owners had
paid their last dime on gasoline just to get here, and he wondered how
they could possibly pay for the delights inside. And he also saw a
limosine, and a Jaguar, and then he wondered if the old beat up cars
belonged to the girls who worked in the joint, and the nice cars to the
men who came and paid for their bodies. He shivered. Well, he was just
here to use the dungeon. He’d brought his own girl. She might be a
little sticky from eating two lollipops, but at least she wasn’t some
rent-a-whore. Not yet, anyway. Not if he disciplined her properly and
taught her Right from Wrong. He looked over at her. His eyes were
drawn down to her short skirt. It had hiked up her legs as she squirmed
around in her seat on their long ride and she hadn’t noticed. Her
panties showed between her thighs, wedged slightly into her crotch.
“Fix yourself,” he told her gruffly. She looked down at
herself, gave him a rueful stare, and pulled her panties out of her
crotch and yanked her skirt down over her sex. “Try to act grown up so
I don’t get in trouble with you,” he added. “Don’t pull any more
lollipops out of your purse and start eating them, okay?”
“Okay,” she smiled. “Are we going to have sex here?”
“We’re...” his voice trailed off. He looked at the bordello.
It looked like an oversized trailer. It had bare white walls. Paint
was peeling off them. It had an aluminum roof. Someone had painted the
roof pink to try to give the bordello the look of a hacienda, but it
hadn’t worked. A shutter banged in the wind. Gaudy red curtains, drawn
across the windows, kept prying eyes from seeing inside. “I’m going to
teach you a few things, that’s all,” Chip answered.
“Well I have to go to the bathroom first, so ask where it is
for me, okay?” Ginger said.
“Okay,” Chip replied. He got out of the car and, because she
was only 12 years old, Ginger got out too, not waiting for him to come
round a help her out, as a woman would have. She slammed the car door
shut. “Make sure it’s locked,” Chip told her. She did. She liked his
car. To her it wasn’t an old, out of date Camaro, that needed a better
paint job. To her it was cool because she got to ride around in it,
eating as many lollipops as she pleased, with Chip driving her. She
walked up to him and he took her hand and squeezed it tightly, as much
to reassure himself as to reassure her. He wasn’t too experienced with
bordellos. He hoped that the beautiful mistress who’d met him last week
was still here, still in charge, still unquestioning about his 12 year
old girlfriend and willing to give him a break on the rental price of
the dungeon. He’d told her Ginger would be young. She hadn’t even
batted an eye, simply smiled. He hoped she understood just how young he
meant.
Inside the bordello was dimly lit. It had a musty smell to it,
as of old furniture that should have been replaced long ago, but was
instead reupholstered and then reupholstered again. He looked at the
satin covered furniture inside the bordello. It looked cheesy, not
luscious, as it was supposed to. He thought he detected a stain or two
on the seat covers where someone might have discharged, or spilled
something. And then, sweeping out from within the depths of the tacky
bordello, came the most gorgeous creature. She was tall and slender and
had a delightfully prominent bosom. She wore a long flowing nightgown,
all frilled and sheer and opaque in just a few places, as if she’d just
arisen from bed. But it was 3 o’clock in the afternoon, and Chip knew
she hadn’t just awakened, though she might nonetheless just now have
gotten up from a bed.
“Hi, are you Chip? Yes! I remember you,” the young woman
said. She had long brown hair that looked almost the same color as
Ginger’s. She walked up to the girl and bent and kissed her on the
forehead. “You’re Ginger?” she asked.
Ginger nodded.
“Well I’m glad Chip’s brought you. He says you’ve been rather
naughty, is that true?” She looked down at Ginger with beaming eyes.
Ginger tugged quickly on Chip’s hand.
“She, uh, will be naughtier still if I don’t find a bathroom
for her,” Chip said.
“Of course. It’s a long ride, I know. Come, we might as well
go downstairs, since that’s where we’re headed anyway. It’s SO tacky up
here, don’t you think? I just bought the place, I’m trying to have it
remodelled. I want to be the Madam to the Stars, now that Heidi’s in
prison. But I’m going to have to renovate this place if I’m ever to
achieve that status. At least here they’ll be able to fuck legally.”
“Yeah,” Chip grunted. Not him, though. Ginger was still ‘hot’
even in this state, where bordellos were allowed. He squeezed Ginger’s
hand. He noticed she was walking a bit awkwardly. She had to go. She
was still young enough that she wiggled when she had to go, if she had
to go badly enough, not learning yet how to contain the need discreetly,
without others knowing. Yet, an adult female might wiggle, if she had
to go really badly, Chip mused. He delighted in thinking about female
urination as the mistress of the place opened a door and led them down
into her cellar.
There was a bathroom downstairs. Ginger excused herself and
went into the bathroom and shut the door and locked it. It was a small
bathroom and Chip heard her begin to pee a moment later. He longed to
watch her, but he could not, and instead he placed a friendly hand on
the mistress’ bottom. It was bare beneath her nightgown. She let him
palm her fanny, letting him roam freely over her butt, feel the cheeks,
the crack between the cheeks. She brushed back her long golden-brown
hair and waited with him while Ginger peed.
“Nice cellar, don’t you think?” she asked. They were standing
in what must have been a newly refurbished part of the cellar, for it
had a wood-panelled den, with a pool table and a shelf full of library
books, and an old desk, with a sturdy chair sitting in front of it. A
plush rug covered the floor. Pillows were piled in a corner of the
den. A wet bar offered drinks.
“Yeah, it’s pretty cool,” Chip answered. He wanted to delve
his hand between her legs but Ginger opened the bathroom door.
“I’m finished,” she announced. Chip heard the flushed toilet
refilling behind her.
“I guess I have to go too,” Chip said.
“Well hurry,” Kimber replied. That was her name, and she
tossed her lovely hair back, not minding at all that he’d felt up her
bottom. Her large breasts moved freely inside her nightgown, all round
and plump and inviting.
Chip stepped into the bathroom but he did not close the door.
He pissed out his pee. The girls stood wathing. He relished their
watching and he guessed they took an equal pleasure in seeing him. Then
he flushed the toilet. He put his increasingly hard and difficult cock
back inside his pants and turned back toward them, facing them as he
zipped himself up.
“Alright, now we’re ready, hmmm?” Kimber asked.
“Sure,” Chip answered.
“Can I have another lollipop?” Ginger asked. She toyed with
the flap of her purse.
“No, you’ve got to get completely undressed now, sweetie,”
Kimber told her. She bent down over the girl. Kimber was almost as
tall as Chip. He watched how her bosoms hung down as she bent, and he
hungered for them and wondered if he might taste them before their stay
was complete.
Kimber tossed back her hair from her face as she bent over
Ginger and looked at Chip. “You too, sir. Take everything off, okay?
Come, there’s a men’s dressing room right around the corner here, and
Ginger and I will use the female’s. It’s silly to segregate ourselves,
but the previous mistress who sold me the place swears by it. So we
will, okay?” She pointed to a door. It had a sign on it with a shotgun
imprinted on it. “That’s the guy’s room, Chip.” Then she nodded toward
a door with a sign that had a target painted on it. In the bullseye was
the image of a cherry. “And that’s the gal’s room, Ginger. Let’s go in
and get naked, okay?”
“Okay,” Ginger said in a small, quiet voice. The two of them
disappeared inside. Kimber blew Chip a kiss as they disappeared behind
the door. Ginger looked small as she guided the girl into the
‘dressing’ room.
Chip slipped into the men’s dressing room. Battered metal
lockers lined the walls. An old worn bench was bolted into the floor.
There was no shower, no toilet. Just old beat-up lockers that lacked
locks. Chip unzipped his jeans and regretted a little wearing his
newest pair. He hoped no guys his size decided to use the room while he
was training Ginger in the dungeon. He unbuttoned his shirt and whipped
it off. He didn’t know whether he should go barefoot or not so he left
his shoes and socks on. His cock stuck out in front of him like the
Washington monument.
Chip let himself out of the dressing room. He followed a short
hall that led away from the den. He guessed the dungeon must be in this
direction. Rounding a corner, he saw he was right. A large stone room
opened before him. Its floor was cold and hard and bare and Chip was
glad he’d kept his shoes on. He walked into the room, all the time
conscious of his naked ass and his cock bouncing along in front of him.
The room was not as well equipped as Annette’s and Dave’s
dungeon and it looked much older. In a sense, it looked much more
serious, for everything was worn and there were lash marks on the
whipping post, cutting deep in the wood, where Chip guessed many a
female must have been bound over the years. And perhaps not a few men.
The chains and manacles and shackles which hung down from the walls and
from the ancient, battered furniture were rusted in places. Chip
contemplated it all with a deep consciousness of his nakedness and of
the fact that Kimber would be present, and he wondered if she might not
take a hand in the games and decide he needed a little training as well
as Ginger. He felt his mind rebel at the thought, but his body did not,
and his eyes gazed lovingly at a wall full of straps and implements of
correction and he almost wanted her to do something to him, to feel her
dominate him even though he had paid for the room to teach and dominate
Ginger.
“Well, here we are,” a silky soft voice announced. Chip turned
quickly. His penis turned with him and both girls, coming into the
dungeon, looked at once at his member. He looked at them in turn,
gazing at both females, who were utterly and completely nude, at their
bosoms, rising and falling with their breath, and at their nests,
Ginger’s soft and fleecy and Kimber’s full-thatched.
For a long moment they simply stared at each other. Then
Kimber, remembering her role as mistress, tossed back her long lovely
hair from her face and moved with Ginger to where Chip stood and took
his penis in her hand. She did not take it inquisitively, as Ginger
might have. Instead she took it with a woman’s expectation in her
eyes. She sized him up, having never done so before, for they’d talked
a week ago in their clothes. She twisted his big knob in her small
fingers and then ran them down his shaft, as if giving him an
inspection. He passed with flying colors, he could see in her glowing
eyes, for he was quite large. Ginger stood meekly beside Kimber, the
woman’s hand resting lightly on Ginger’s shoulder.
“I see you’re fit for duty,” Kimber smiled.
“Always,” Chip replied gallantly.
“Ginger, I’m going to dress you in some straps so you can be
buckled down, okay?” Kimber said to the girl, turning her attention from
Chip and his randy erection. She caressed the girl’s shoulders. Ginger
still wore her hair in pigtails and Chip wished Kimber would undo them
for her.
“Her hair,” he said. “Undo her pigtails.”
“Undo my hair but buckle my arms and legs into straps?” Ginger
protested. She was led by Kimber over to a pile of leather straps,
straps that might have matched her miniskirt if she still wore it.
“Undo her hair,” Chip said again. Kimber turned, her lovely
long hair brushing across her body as she moved her head to look back at
him.
“She’ll look older. I thought you wanted her too look as young
as possbile. Don’t you?”
“No. I’m not into little girls. I just... have to train her,”
Chip said.
“Oh,” Kimber said softly. She untied Ginger’s pigtails as the
girl stared down at a pile of straps. “Special responsibility, hmmm?”
Kimber asked.
“Yeah, sort of,” Chip replied. “She’s an only child. She
doesn’t have any brothers or anything.”
“I don’t want to wear straps,” Ginger said. Kimber freed her
hair and spread it over her shoulders. It glimmered in the lights of
the dungeon. The lights consisted of lamps on the walls that were made
to look like oil lamps. In fact, though, they were electric. They cast
a strong glow that illuminated the nakedness of their bodies.
“Stand still,” Kimber told Ginger. “Behave like a woman if you
want me to treat you like one.”
Chip marvelled at the sight of the two females. Here he was,
buck naked in a dungeon, in a bordello devoted to serving the male. His
cock was sticking out like a desperate flag-less flagpole and he had
these two females at his complete disposal. Ginger for sure and, if he
was lucky, Kimber too. Kimber had an hourglass figure that could have
easily gotten her into Penthouse, perhaps even gotten her named Pet of
the Year. Yet she was, for the next few hours at least, if he played
his cards right with her, his Pet. His alone, to love and do with as he
pleased. And Ginger, poor child, was most certainly his. He was
responsible for her and he was determined to teach her something,
although exactly what that was receeded now in his mind as he felt his
cock throb so stiffly and erectly between his legs. He watched little
Ginger’s bare bottom shiver as Kimber bent and fitted the girl into
straps. Ginger wore just her tennis shoes, big bright red and pink
shoes, to protect her feet from the cold floor. Yet posts and stocks
and trestles lay waiting in this room for her, and only a few straps
were needed to make her ready to be quickly bound into them, and forced
to offer up her naked body and her naked ass. She stood quietly, Kimber
kneeling, buckling first one strap to her and then another. Kimber
looked elegant in a pair of high heels. They had stiff 4 inch spikes to
them, enough to give her glorious bottom an extra lift while still being
reasonable enough in height to let her play mistress to both Ginger and
Chip. She brushed her hair back, taking her time with Ginger. She
picked a collar for the girl from the pile and buckled it around
Ginger’s neck. It had a D ring in front and in back, so she might be
easily locked into place on whatever item of furniture Chip chose for
her. He cast his eyes about the room. He would have to choose soon.
There were so many choices! His cock hardened to the point of causing
him pain and he felt a desperate need to just masturbate himself, to
just rub himself silly and shoot all over the floor. And even as his
mind considered this, Kimber rubbed herself a little between her legs,
still binding Ginger into the straps, and then she rubbed Ginger’s
pussy, making the girl leap and smiling at her and rubbing her some
more.
“Ohhh, don’t do that,” Ginger protested.
“I want you wet,” Kimber told her, and she kissed the girl’s
belly. “There. That’s the last of the straps. Turn around and show
Chip what a good job I’ve done.”
Blushing, for she looked (and no doubt felt) ridiculous all
naked, but outfitted in straps, the girl turned around and showed
herself. She wore a small dog’s collar around her neck. Her wrists
were bound tightly with straps, each fitted with D rings. Straps
circled her ankles and there were straps just above each of her knees.
A big strap circled and hugged her waist. Belt-like it crossed below
her belly button and above her well-displayed pubis. Ginger pushed out
her hips at Chip, as if seeking his approval. Then, as if to issue a
challenge to him to tame her, if he could, she placed both her hands on
her hips. Tentatively she stuck out her tongue, wetting her upper lip,
perhaps intending to tease him, but feeling a little too scared to
actually give him the raspberries.
Chip gazed at the tan line where Ginger’s bikini should have
covered her pubis. Instead there was just naked flesh, the white where
she wore her bikini contrasting sexily with the brown of her legs and
her waist and her limbs. Above, where her bikini top usually protected
her, her breasts thrust themselves out, offering teats for him to
treasure and suckle.
“What-- what should I do with her?” Chip asked Kimber. He felt
bewildered. His cock was so hard he just wanted to lay the girl down on
the floor and fuck her. Yet he sensed something more was expected.
After all, he’d paid for the dungeon for the specific purpose of
punishing her, of training her. Now she was all outfitted for him, yet
he felt perplexed, and he could think of nothing but his desperate need
to cum. Couldn’t she just stand there, in all her 12-year-old beauty?
Her forbidden beauty, and let him masturbate over her? No, he was not
13. He was not some child looking at Playboy. And she was a child, not
a woman. It was not appropriate for a grown man to masturbate over a
little girl.
Something was expected of him, Chip realized. Never mind the
outside world. Something was expected of him here, in the dungeon. He
was not as free as he’d imagined. Kimber tossed her hair, her lovely
mane of hair, looking like a young mare waiting for the new steed on the
stud farm to fuck her. And Ginger, young as she was, stood waiting with
her hands on her hips, ready to fight with half her strength, even bound
and fitted for him, yet waiting for him to take the lead and capture her
and restrain her and force her to his will.
“Well, let’s grease you up first, to save time later,” Kimber
offered helpfully. She walked gracefully over to Chip and drew him to a
wall. On a shelf there lubricants and tubes of vaseline brooded. She
beckoned Ginger. The two girls opened some new tubes and jars of
lubricant. Ginger picked up a squeeze bottle of baby oil and, at
Kimber’s urging, squirted its contents all over Chip’s prick.
Now he was truly challenged. He was dying to cum yet he MUST
wait while they lubed him up. He watched, shivering, trembling. The
girls’ soft hands dipped into the jars of vaseline and came to him and
coated him thoroughly. He stood against the wall, wishing to God he
could just shoot his spunk against the wall and be done with it all.
The girls giggled. Kimber talked of other men she’d played with and
told Ginger that Chip was the biggest of all of them. Ginger listened
wide-eyed, believing completely. Chip shuddered. Their touch was
delightful. Too delightful, and he had to beg them to stop for a moment
while he regained control of himself. A shudder passed through him and
down his long prick. He prayed. The moment passed. He felt stronger
and let them touch him again.
When Chip was quite well oiled and the girls had even squirted
a little oil between their legs, Kimber picked up a bottle of baby
powder. Playfully she sprinkled a little of it on Chip’s bare ass.
“Your ass is so hairy, especially in the crack!” Kimber laughed
at Chip.
“I know! He’s got hair all over him,” Ginger said. “His arms,
his legs, his chest, almost everywhere... except his dick.”
“Well, that’s a man for you,” Kimber smiled. Ginger smiled
back. “I’m glad I don’t have any hair on me,” Ginger said. “Except
between my legs, of course.” She picked up the squeeze bottle of oil
and shot another long squirt up between her legs. “Do you think I’m
lubed enough?” she asked Kimber frankly.
“If you get any more lubed people will think you’re dripping
pee all over my floor,” Kimber told her.
“Okay,” Ginger replied. She replaced the squeeze bottle on the
shelf. It was a high shelf. She had to stand on tip-toes in her
sneakers to reach up and put the bottle away. Then she slapped her
hands on her thighs to degrease them.
“There’s a box of Handi-Wipes on the shelf,” Kimber told the
girl. Ginger reached up, explored with her fingers, and found the box.
She took it down and yanked out several wipes. She wiped her fingers
and then wiped the grease off her thighs. She tossed the napkins on the
floor.
Kimber wiped her hands. “Pick those up and throw them in the
waste basket over there,” she said to Ginger. “Don’t litter my
dungeon.”
“Sorry,” Ginger said sheepishly. She picked up the discarded
napkins and walked to the wastebasket and tossed them in. Chip watched
the movement of her high child’s bottom. It was white and inviting and
her little cheeks rolled deliciously. He longed to snap a whip across
them and see them flex and tense and rebound. And then he would plunge
himself into her and fuck her, fuck her hard, fuck her right up her
little ass that she’d so inconsiderately given away to another man.
Ginger turned around and walked back to Kimber and Chip. Her
high pointy breasts jostled freely on her chest, rounder than they’d
been even a week earlier, and fuller. They were growing fast. Perhaps
they were growing just for him. He felt a tenderness toward them,
toward her. She was His! And yet he must punish her a little, at
least. Yes, he must. He reached out for her arm and grabbed it. She
uttered a little yelp.
“Didn’t you learn about ecology in school?” he asked.
“No-- yes!” Ginger replied. He took her brusquely in hand and
walked her quickly across the dungeon to a table. It was a bare, flat
wooden table, about the height of a dining table, perhaps a little
higher, so a man could ease himself into whatever he bound atop it. The
edge and the legs of the table were scarred. Whips had struck there,
perhaps after inflicting a stroke of pain on their target, perhaps
missing the target and hitting the table instead.
Ginger’s knees weakened. Chip had to catch her under her arms
to keep her standing upright. Implanted in the table were iron rings.
Silently they waited, waited for the D rings sewn into Ginger’s straps
to be hooked into them.
Kimber knelt and drew a small step-stair out from under the
table. Like the table, it was made of wood. It had scars on it where a
whip had fallen, many times, leaving its mark. “Get up, dear,” Kimber
said to Ginger. Chip released the girl from his grasp. To his
heartbeating surprise, the small trembling child obeyed. With soft
tip-toes she stepped up onto the lowest step, then the next, then the
highest. She looked round her frail tanned shoulder at Chip, her hair
sweeping freely across her back. She smiled. A small, frightened
smile. Then she arched her bottom out at him and climbed up onto the
table. She crawled into place amidst the rings and settled her chin
down on a small pillow that waited at the end of the table.
Kimber ran a soft hand up the girl’s back and bent and locked
her collar to a ring in the table, securing her head. Then she streched
Ginger’s arms down past her waist, angling them out a little away from
her body, and locked her wrists to the table. Finally, turning to Chip
and telling him to get a bolster from the floor, where it lay under a
wall full of whips, she opened the girl’s legs wide.
Ginger waited tensely. His cock bobbing stiffly, Chip went and
fetched the bolster. He brought it to the table. Kimber placed a hand
under Ginger’s tummy and urged her to lift up her waist, her bottom. At
a nod from Kimber Chip slipped the bolster beneath the girl’s belly.
Then, quickly, Kimber latched each of the girl’s widespread ankles into
a ring on the table.
The sight that greeted Chip’s eyes was breathtaking. Here,
lying on the table before him, was a girl half his age. Her neck was
secured immovably, her wrists, her ankles. Even her knees were locked
into place, as a last guarantee that she was utterly at his disposal. A
cushion pushed her bare bottom up at him. Her legs were completely
open, showing him her cunt, despite the fact that she was bound down to
the table for punishment and might just as easily be whipped in her
snatch as on the cheeks of her ass.
Chip felt again a desperate desire to jack himself off. His
cock was greased and ready. A quick handshake would be all that was
needed. But he was not alone in his barracks anymore, in the Army,
sitting and reading Penthouse. There were two very real girls waiting
for him, Kimber looking at him expectantly, Ginger bound down, sighing
softly, waiting for the first whipping in her short life. He must
perform. He couldn’t simply pleasure himself and put his pants back on
and leave. He must satisfy. Ginger waited with trembling limbs, unable
to move them, but still shaking nonetheless in her bonds. Her skin
prickled with fear. Her tender bottomcheeks squirmed impatiently.
“Choose your implement, Chip,” Kimber said. She gazed from him
to the wall. Chip turned his head. EVERYTHING was there! Broad and
gentle tawses, slim whips, cutting canes. Big paddles, made of wood,
with holes drilled through them to make them pass through the air to
their target more quickly. And a hood, if he wished it, to hide his
emotion, though he would not be permitted in any case to hide his penis
from them.
Chip swallowed. Ginger squirmed on the table and begged to be
let up. She was growing rebellious. He strode to the wall. Cruelly he
reached for a martinet and then, reconsidering, hearing a gasping
childlike hiccup from Ginger, he selected a sturdy belt instead. It was
made of thick leather and he knew it would hurt if he passed it quickly
across her bottom, or fall more softly if he preferred, depending on his
mood.
He walked back to the table. His cock was enflamed, his balls
broiled between his legs. He shivered with lust. Kimber looked at him
cooly.
“Get a sponge and a pail of water and wet down her bottom. I
want it to hurt more,” Chip commanded. He remembered something he’d
read in Penthouse, decided to bark it out to ensure that he was in
charge and not her.
“If you insist, sir,” Kimber replied. She gave him a small
smile. She went to the wall where a pail sat, under a faucet. As
Ginger lay complaining and whining over the bolster, quite certain now
that she wanted up, wanted no part of this, Kimber filled the bucket.
Chip saw that the faucet stood out from the wall by itself and hoped the
water was cold. He wanted cold water. He wanted Ginger to feel cold
water splashing over her bottom and reacting to it with him watching her
wiggly seat as she did so.
Kimber returned. The bucket was heavy for her and she carried
it with both hands. A little water from the bucket sloshed out onto her
leg and she froze. “Oh! That’s chilly!” She said. Then she smiled at
Chip. “You’re wicked, sir,” she told him.
“I hope so,” Chip answered.
Kimber had placed a sponge in the bucket and it sailed about on
the surface of the water as she lugged it over to the table. She lifted
the bucket and set it down with a thump.
“No! Please! Don’t get my bottom all wet!” Ginger begged.
She tried to turn her head to address Kimber but the collar held her
tightly bound to the table. Her bottomcheeks trembled, retracted.
“Oh!” Ginger declared as Kimber, unmoved, wet the sponge and place it
against Ginger’s seat.
“Oh, woh! It’s cold!” Ginger complained.
“Your bottom will be warm enough in a minute,” Kimber replied.
Lovingly she bathed the tight skin of Ginger’s ass. Ginger’s cheeks
huddled, her legs tried to kick, but it was no use. Kimber spread her
small little cheeks and squeezed water into her crack.
“Oh, please stop! I feel so wet and COLD!” Ginger protested.
She shook her head. Her hair shimmered on her back. It was short and
fell from her shoulders, splitting across her neck, leaving her worse
off than before, for now her entire back, right up to her neck, was
bare. Bound to the table, she had no chance of brushing it back up
behind her. She was as nude as the day she was born, save for her
sneakers and straps. Chip struck the floor with his belt and prepared
to begin.
“Why did you give your cherry away to that man in the mat
room?” Chip asked Ginger angrily.
“Oh, I didn’t! He TOOK it from me!” Ginger pleaded.
“I don’t believe you,” Chip answered. And to prove it, he
struck her bottom with his strap. Ginger wailed. Her bottom arched
higher, the belt striking the soft underside of her cheeks, lifting her
momentarily. Then, retracting as Ginger howled out her pain, her little
cheeks shut tight and tried to remain forever closed. But, relaxing
involuntarily, they rebounded outward a moment later. They quivered.
Ginger began to sob.
Chip rubbed his cock. He couldn’t help it. She was too
beautiful, too prostrate, too much a creature of his barracks dreams
late at night when he remembered past girlfriends he’d had when he’d
been a little boy. Somehow he fought back the need to cum. Still
massaging his big prick, he let Ginger have another crack of the belt.
“Oooooeeeeee!” Ginger yowled. He’d given her a hard one, right
across the width of her cheeks. A bright pink line, pinker than the
line that now marked the underside of her bottom, appeared across her
white flesh. Her tanned limbs tugged in her bonds, trying to thrash and
break free. Her head, her chin nestled in the pillow, showing her face
to whomever cared to look in a nearby mirror and see, pivoted about. It
was all useless. She could do nothing. She was wedded to the table
more completely than a turkey on Thanksgiving day. She pleaded through
a shower of tears to be let up, to be let go, to be taken home. Chip
struck her on her bottom again.
“Yeeeeoooooeeee!” Ginger cried. Her seat had three lines now,
three bright pink-red lines that marked her and showed where Chip had
made himself felt by her. She wiggled her tushy and tried to squeeze it
shut but her girlish seat sprang open again, soft and untrained. He
gave her another. She cried more deeply, a long, throaty cry that
seemed to come from down inside her belly. Her cunt offered itself
wetly to him, all moist, ready with the oil she’d squirted so carelessly
into it. Then everything had still been tentative and she could
challenge him, dare him to respond. She’d only been spanked once, by
Dave, and he was not Dave, and perhaps she thought him weaker than Dave,
but now he was proving to her that he was the greater threat.
THWAAACK! He brought the belt down hard on her ass. She
shrieked. Her bottom, round and pumpkin-like, wobbled redly. He felt
as if he might be carving her up, and indeed he was, for the belt left
long pink-red marks that would not go away for at least a day, perhaps
longer. She would sit tenderly, remembering him.
“Why did you give your cherry to him and not me?” Chip
thundered. He felt truly angry, that she’d betrayed him somehow, though
they’d never even been boyfriend and girlfriend, and were ten years
apart in age.
“Oooooo, I --” Ginger wailed, but she never got to finish, for
Chip gave her another stroke, harder still. Then, as he saw a red line
appear, he worried he might have welted her, and he ran forward and
suddenly dropped his belt and kissed her, right on her bottom.
“Oh! Oh! Oh!” Ginger cried and coughed and spilled out new
tears on her pillow. Chip clapped her hips between his big hands and
licked and kissed her small soft bottom. He delved his tongue between
her cheeks. He felt the hole she’d denied him, giving it away to
another man. He fucked her in her ass with his tongue. She screamed.
She shed new tears, she broke into hiccups, coughed, begged him to
stop. Bending over the table, he felt his cock press hard against the
wood. Wood against wood. He guessed her nipples were stiff against the
table and he hoped he didn’t hurt her new, growing breasts by fastening
her face down to the table and beating her with the belt.
Suddenly Chip heard a loud crack. A bright pain made itself
felt in his bottom. He looked up from Ginger’s brightly-hued, wiggling
seat. He felt his own ass gyrate with pain as he looked back behind
himself and saw Kimber armed with his strap.
She tossed her brown mane back from her face. She swung the
big heavy belt. It arched out. It thudded smartly against Chip’s ass,
giving him another crack even as he watched her. He shouted in pain.
His buns burned. So recently she’d sprinkled with soft baby powder, yet
now she was whipping them!
“What are you doing?” Chip bellowed.
“What’s good for the goose is good for the gander,” Kimber
replied. She smirked at him. “Hurts, doesn’t it? Haven’t you ever
done this before?”
“No! I’ve been in the Ar-r-r-m-y!!!” Chip hollered. His voice
broke into a yowl of pain as the belt connected again. Still holding
Ginger’s hips, he sensed her bottom wiggling sympathetically beneath his
face as the belt struck. He bent down and kissed her poor scorched
nether cheeks anew, neverminding the belt, loving her, driving his big
tongue into her small tight fanny and fucking the cherry there that he’d
almost had. He stabbed his tongue into her like a man might ram in his
dick, perhaps for revenge, perhaps to prove to her that even his tongue
was better than the penis of the man she’d given herself away to.
Suddenly, tearing at her hands, her neck, he freed her from the iron
rings on the table. He yanked her kicking legs out of the iron rings
and she awarded him with a kick in his groin for the favor. Then,
roughly, he drew her back. He wanted to feel concern for her naked
teats dragging across the scuffed table, but he couldn’t. He was too
desperate. He offered his cock between her legs. She did not resist.
She could not, for he was spreading her legs wide with his hands,
gripping her thighs, as if she were indeed a turkey, and he was in
charge of the stuffing.
The belt stuck his bottom again. His balls swung tightly
beneath him. His buns burned. Kimber showed him no mercy.
“How dare you fuck a little 12-year-old girl?!” Kimber shouted
at him from behind. Her voice was high, feminine, but the belt was hard
and she used it without compromise.
“No! No! I--” Chip groaned. But of course he did. He rammed
himself right into Ginger’s cunt, her wet drippy cunt that she’d
squirted with oil, making herself all slippery for him. She screamed.
He ignored her. He vowed he’d fuck her bottom just as soon as he’d
driven a few times into her cunt. But as the clenching tightness of her
near virginal walls closed over him, he knew all was gained and
simultaneously lost. His sperm welled up within him. He fought hard,
barely held it back. He jammed himself hard into Ginger’s small velvety
little cunt. She was so new, so fresh and impossibly tight. She
squeezed upon him. He felt like he was in the softest, yet the tightest
of vises. He gained a deep purchase within her. Then, drawing back, he
began to ream her. In and out he moved, her satin clenching walls
sucking at him with each stroke. He fucked her like a dog might,
standing behind her, wagging its tail and bucking its hips. Yet he had
no tail, only a bare hairy ass that Kimber lashed unmercifully with the
belt. His belt, that he’d chosen, yet now found used upon him more
wickedly than he’d ever used it on Ginger.
He groaned. He spurted deep into his 12-year-old love. She
hollared at the unexpected bath. It was not bath time yet, but she was
receiving one, right up inside the confines of her cunt. Chip flooding
of his cum in her, filling her, his seed roiling into her womb. He
prayed she’d taken a Pill. She’d been given some by Annette, but had
she actually taken one? Or had she been two busy eating her two
lollipops?
“Unnnnnh!” Chip squirted himself into her and wondered how he’d
ever explain himself to her parents if he brought her home pregnant.
She was only 12, her breasts were newly budding, her hips were still
small. “Well, she looked like a woman to me,” he’d stammer. “Lots of
women today wear pigtails!” Yes, and they had small breasts too, but
hers were growing so fast she might well be big-chested by the time they
returned.
Suddenly he whipped her onto her back. He didn’t even remove
himself from her. She was young and pliant and he simply wrenched her
legs this way and that and got her around so that she lay on her back.
Then, greedily, ingoring the lashing of the belt on his bottom, he bent
and sucked at her breasts even as he fucked her anew.
“Oh, woh! Oh, pleassssse!” Ginger hissed. But he sucked hard
on her teats, drawing them up, yanking on them with his lips and his
mouth. Yes, they were sweet, and lovely and pink and small and yet
delicious. He tried to suck her entire breast into his mouth, first
one, then another, managed it almost, but she was getting big, so lovely
and big, every day her breasts swelled more, and they had a heaviness
now to them that they hadn’t yet had two weeks ago when he’d fucked her
in Annette’s bed.
“Ah! Ah! Ah!” Ginger cried. He let go of her breasts and set
about the grim duty of fucking her a second time. Incredibly, he was
still hard. He rammed himself into her, standing over her, Kimber
dropping the belt in admiration of his vigor, perhaps a little
frightened as she watched. For he was soldier-like now. He was no
longer a desperate boy but a grown man, doing his duty. With Ginger’s
small hips wedged between his hands, he rammed his loins repeatedly into
hers. He stabbed, she received. They were both well oiled. They
worked together like a machine. She gasped and tossed her head from
side to side and her small arms beat aimlessly, her little legs kicked,
but she was utterly helpless and he sensed she loved her helplessness,
and perhaps wished it could last forever.
For long minutes the tableux continued. He pummeled her. She
recieved him. Her sucking depths drew hard on him with each stroke.
Kimber, impressed, got down behind him and began kissing his bottom.
She squeezed his balls. Perhaps she feared he would overdo it, fucking
little Ginger, for he showed no sign of cuming. Kimber twisted his
testicles. She bent between his hairy legs and nibbled and licked at
them.
“No, don’t!” Chip begged. But she would not stop. She
squeezed his sac encouragingly.
“Cum. Don’t injure her, dear. She’s only 12,” Kimber
murmured. Chip cried out. The combined effects of the two of them was
too much for him. With a lusty shout he shot off. His seed thundered
into Ginger and she moaned and cried out and beat her arms, and bucked
her hips against his. He felt her small feet bang into his buttocks and
press hard against him.
“Yes! Yes! Yes!” Ginger cried. Chip’s cries joined hers and
he spermed he for what seemed like an eternity.
When at last he was spent, he picked her up from the table. He
held her by her small scorched cheeks. She fell limply against him.
For a moment he feared she was dead. But then her head stirred and she
planted a small child’s kiss on his cheek, next to his mouth.
“I love you,” he breathed in her ear.
“I hate you,” she replied in a gurgly voice.
“There’s a bed upstairs. Would you like to sleep?” Kimber
asked Chip.
“I guess so. How much does it cost?” Chip asked.
“Nothing if you fuck me with that fine dick when you get hard
again,” Kimber answered.
“That’s a deal,” Chip said. He carried his little charge from
the dungeon. Kimber gathered up their clothes from both dressing
rooms. Men were coming down the stairs to play pool in the den as he
mounted them, carrying Ginger. They stared, said nothing.
“He had to teach his little sister a few things,” Kimber
explained. She was naked as a jaybird and they stared at her even more
avidly.
“Oh,” a man said. He was carrying a pool stick. He nudged
Kimber between her legs.
“Not now, guys. Later,” she said. “I’ll send some girls down
to play pool with you.”
“Okay,” they answered.
Upstairs, in a small bedroom that had perhaps once been a
child’s room, Chip collapsed on a narrow bed with his love. She
sighed. He kissed her. She nuzzled his nose with hers.
“Here’s some salve for both your bottoms when you’re ready for
it,” Kimber said to them. “I’ve got chores to do, sorry. Let me know
before you go, Chip, and I’ll write the whole thing off for you,” she
winked.
“Okay,” Chip breathed. He felt utterly spent. He pressed
himself against Ginger’s small body and, both of them naked, they fell
asleep atop the white sheets of the bed.
Ginger ate two more lollipops on the drive home.
“I hope you remembered to take a Pill,” Chip said to her. He
was sitting at a slight angle in the driver’s seat. Ginger sat on a
pillow.
“Why did you have to fuck her before we left?” Ginger asked.
“She asked me to. It meant I didn’t have to pay her.”
“So? Don’t you have any money?” Ginger asked accusingly.
“I do, but, you know, I need it for other things,” he answered.
“Not for me?” Ginger asked.
“Sure, I can spend some on you. God knows, you’re zooming
right through those lollipops.”
“Oh, yeah. Well, they’re pretty good,” she said, gazing at the
big orange one she was licking. “Could you get me some Gummi Bears
before you take me home?”
“Uh, sure,” Chip replied. “Oh, there’s a license plate from
Montana,” he said.
“Yeah, let’s count them up together and see how many we get,”
she offered.
“Cool.” He said. “But you keep track of the number. I’m
driving.”
“Don’t worry. I have my Hello Kitty note pad here someplace,”
Ginger said. She laid her lollipop on his dashboard and began digging
through her purse.
“Hey, don’t do that!” he cried.
“What?”
“Your fucking lollipop will get stuck to my dashboard!”
Ruefully she picked it up. It was wet and sticky and she had
to pry it loose. “It’s not a ‘fucking’ lollipop, it’s an ‘orange’
lollipop,” she corrected him. She gave it another big lick. “Let’s not
count license plates. I want to eat this, okay? I can’t do two things
at once,” she said.
“Okay,” Chip agreed.
30
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