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From: Andrew Roller <roller39@IDT.NET>
Subject: Pussy Valley part 1 of 1 (NND)
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_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
PUSSY VALLEY
_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
Chapter One
Judy had worked all week at her paralegal job and now she was
ready for something quite different. She tried reassuring herself that
it wouldn’t be as different as she suspected it might be. Her boyfriend
had suggested it. He was 30, she was barely 19, fresh out of paralegal
school. Judy had graduated from high school at 17. She hadn’t
done this because she was extremely bright, but simply because she’d
been born late in the year. She’d started first grade at 5 instead of
6. She had always been the smallest in her grade as a result. She’d
been the last to grow breasts (though they grew quite large when they
did come in, as if to get revenge on the other girls.) And she’d been
the last to catch the boys’ eyes.
During her school days Judy had always been, in the eyes of
some in her class, rather childish. She was a year behind where they
were in their development. She’d been the last to give up crayons.
She’d been the last to go on real dates. She was still playing with
Barbi and Ken when her friends were already making out at the drive-in.
The fact that she’d been the oldest in her family hadn’t helped either.
Her younger sister, five years her junior, kept her parents thinking of
her as a kid even when she was a teen.
Graduating at 17, Judy had decided she’d had enough of school.
She was tired of playing catch-up to her classmates. She was sick of
having to rely on her parents for everything. So Judy decided to spring
ahead of the rest of her class, and dump her parents, by starting real
work in the real world. She went to paralegal school while her
ex-classmates were ensconced in college classes on Intro to Art,
Anthropology, and Black Studies. At home, her little sister was still
fighting with her mother about how short her skirts could be.
Now after a whole month of work Judy was tiring of a real job
as a real paralegal. The school’s glossy catalog had promised a glowing
career helping high-powered attorneys. It had failed to mention that
however fashionably she dressed and however high-powered the men she
met, most of the day was spent in drudge-work typing briefs. The three
women attorneys in the office hadn’t been mentioned in the school
brochure or, if they had been, Judy had somehow failed to overlook them
as a possibility. While the men might be cajoled or flattered, the
women attorneys were entirely beyond persuasion. In their opinion, if
Judy were worth anything, she would have attended college like they had,
and then law school. If she were nothing but a high school graduate
then she was most certainly stupider than they were. Worse, she was
young and pretty, which they listed down as a demerit in their
‘feminized’ minds. So they saw her as a thing to be put to work typing
and nothing more; typing, filing, and more typing and filing, until her
head was ready to spin.
Judy had persevered, however, and after two short weeks of
efficient labor she’d been given a secretary. Unfortunately the girl
was younger than she herself was. She was still in high school. She
still thought it was cool to pop her gum loudly. She still thought it
was cool to play games on the office computer instead of doing her
work. Judy had to break her in to the ways of the office. Every day
about the time she had the girl properly trained, her day would end, for
the girl was only a part-timer. Then she’d show up the next day and
Judy would have to start all over again with her. The combination of
directing a subordinate and responding to superiors, all of it
high-powered and hurry, hurry, all in a top-drawer law office, had worn
Judy completely out by the end of the month.
Her boyfriend suggested a break. Judy got permission from one
of the male attorneys. It would be for a whole week, and Judy’s
boyfriend had whispered to her what it would entail. He was a football
player, newly retired, just starting a second career in advertising. He
had met some new friends and they shared with him a secret they had. In
a house, on Bourbon Street, there was a place where males and females
could let down their hair. Judy could look forward to a week entirely
different from her world of work. Instead of constantly having to type
and dictate and file and remember things, she would only have to
concentrate on her body. Instead of worrying each morning about what to
wear, she would be given all that she needed, and it would not be much.
Hurried snack breaks and short lunch breaks would be a thing of the
past. She would be fed by others. Their interest would be her, and
they would feed her like one does a pet, to make it happy, and healthy.
“Where is this place?” Judy asked her boyfriend as he drove her
to the destination Friday evening. She’d had an early bath and a light,
quick dinner in her apartment. Her boyfriend had advised against them
eating a heavy meal. He said it excited him to have her there with him,
that he’d only been there once before, and then in a status somewhat
lower than he would have now, upon returning.
“I told you, Bourbon Street,” Judy’s boyfriend replied. He had
dark hair in contrast to Judy’s blonde. He’d been a year behind in his
school days, getting himself suspended and expelled so many times for
bad behavior that they’d finally held him back to punish him. It hadn’t
helped. He’d been even larger as a result, compared to the other
children in his new grade, and even more of a ‘holy terror’ (as one
teacher called him) than before. In contrast to Judy’s slender frame
and childish face he was heavy-set and brutish looking. But Judy hadn’t
met him until he had already finished with football, the year before.
The man she’d met, despite numerous wild stories about his past, was an
up and coming executive. He was deliberately softening his behavior and
his attitude toward life. He wanted to make a new image for himself.
He’d read Donald Trump’s Art of the Deal. He was learning to play
golf. He had even ordered Japanese Language tapes and was trying to
learn the art of the Japanese Tea Ceremony, for he believed the future
of capitalism lay in Asia. (Though, he admitted, it might be Chinese
Capitalism, not Japanese.)
“Well, I don’t know where Bourbon Street is,” Judy said to her
boyfriend. She put a finger in her blonde hair and gave it an absent
twirl, coiling a strand of hair around it.
“It’s in Pussy Valley,” her boyfriend answered. He laughed.
It was a gruff, knowing laugh. “At least that’s what we used to call
the San Fernando Valley when I played for the Raiders. We’d, you know,
cruise up the valley and get us some valley girls when we had a day
off. So that’s where I’m taking you.” He looked at her. “I suppose a
girl from Connecticut doesn’t know about pussies in the valley.”
“No, I’d never heard of it,” Judy answered. “I’ve been busy
with school and work. I haven’t had time for girl-hungry football
players.”
“Except me,” Greg answered.
“Except you,” Judy admitted. They watched the palm trees glide
by as Greg’s car sailed up the freeway. Just the tops of the trees
could be seen, intermingled with the rooves of homes stretching away in
all directions from the elevated freeway. The smog seemed to be
thickening but in fact the radio reported that the area was in for a
spot of bad weather. The lowering clouds promised an unanticipated
rainfall. Silently Judy berated herself for picking a week to vacation
when rain might keep her indoors. Then she remembered her boyfriend’s
whispers about the place they were going to, how others would loom large
in her life. They would take care of her and feed her and, in return,
she would be immersed in a totally different world.
Judy glanced at her boyfriend and slipped her finger from the
coil of hair wrapped around it. She placed her hands in her lap.
Brushing her hands across her skirt, she tugged at its hem. It was
awfully short. Her boyfriend had bought it for her and insisted she
wear it. The skirt was made of leather. With it she wore a white
blouse and a small leather vest that had no buttons on its front to
close it with. Two decorative buttons were sewn into it in back,
however. The blouse was almost transparent and, at her boyfriend’s
insistence, Judy wore no bra underneath. He had demanded that she skip
wearing panties, too, but she’d put on a pair anyway. If he’d noticed
she had a pair on he hadn’t scolded her for it. She wore long black
stockings with her skirt. Her boyfriend had purchased them for her and
insisted she wear them. Judy had walked around in her apartment for a
little while, alone, wearing just the stockings with no panties, as her
boyfriend desired, and felt the odd sensuality of exposing her sex while
keeping her legs sheathed in nylon. In addition to the stockings she
wore new shoes. They had absurdly high heels, 5 inches. Finally she
wore jewelry of her choosing, paid for by her boyfriend a week ago at a
jeweller’s. He’d bought her two of everything she needed, claiming she
might lose the first pairs while visiting Bourbon Street. Two gleaming
pearl earrings, a pearl necklace, three gold bangles, all worn on one
wrist, and a small anklet made of a tiny sliver chain that had a heart
ornament dangling from it. Expensive jewelry, to be sure, yet her
boyfriend had not wished to see her wearing a bra. Judy felt strange
wearing clothes that her boyfriend had bought, right down to her
earrings. She wished he’d skipped one of the bangles and let her have a
bra instead. Worse, she didn’t have her purse with her. Usually she
carried a compact, and pills, and tampons and lipstick and a brush for
her hair, but he’d made her leave all these at her apartment. How could
she survive for a week without even the most basic female necessitites,
she’d asked him? He’d replied that he’d seen to her clothes and he’d
see to those as well, or the females where they were going would.
“Turn around. I don’t want to go,” Judy said to her boyfriend
abruptly. It had begun to rain, lightly, the drops hitting the
windshield. Her boyfriend looked at her and gave her a sardonic smile.
Judy knew he controlled the automatic locks to his Porsche. There was
no way she could unlock the door on her side, without his permission.
“Cold feet are to be expected sometimes,” Judy’s boyfriend
replied. He returned his eyes to the road.
“No, really!” Judy said. But she realized there was no way she
could overpower him. He was over six feet and she barely cleared 5’7”.
He had the frame of a weightlifter and she had the frame, except for her
breasts, of the waif in Les Miserables. She couldn’t roll down the car
window without his permission and she couldn’t open the door. Of course
they’d ridden in his car before, but they hadn’t been going to Bourbon
Street, in Pussy Valley.
Judy glared at her boyfriend and settled back into the bucket
seat. He was quite her master now, and she would have to do whatever he
wished. She tugged again at her skirt and resented how it crossed over
the tops of her thighs.
“Will we be walking far when we get out?” Judy asked her
boyfriend.
“Not far,” he replied with a smile. “Anyway I would protect
you from the rain in any event. You won’t get wet.”
When Judy’s boyfriend parked in front of a modest two story
home on a street that proved, indeed, to be named Bourbon Street she
found herself left alone in the car while he came around to her side to
let her out. The rain was still coming down, a bit harder than before.
Gallantly her boyfriend took off his sport coat and, opening the car
door for Judy, he helped her out. He held his coat carefully over her
head so that no rain fell upon her.
“You’re wearing panties,” he said to her gruffly. It had been
impossible for her to hide herself from him as she got out of the
low-slung car in her very short skirt. Judy tugged on her skirt in
behind and in front. A passerby crossed in front of them, a Mexican,
wearing a big floppy hat that dripped with rain and dirty blue jeans.
Politely he tipped his hat to the couple. Judy reached up to her chest
and pulled the halves of her vest close together. She wondered if he’d
been able to see her pink nipples looming through the near-transparency
of her blouse.
“I’m sorry. I couldn’t help it,” Judy said. Greg ringed her
with his arm while keeping his coat punctiliously over her head. The
drops of rain were wetting his hair but she was warm and dry under his
coat.
“You will be taken to task for that inside,” Greg said to her
ominously. There was a 6 foot concrete wall between the home and the
sidewalk and Greg pushed open a gate that led through the wall and onto
the property.
“Who should know or care if I’m wearing any panties or not?”
Judy replied. There was anxiety in her voice but he guided her along as
if he was a personal bodyguard to the Queen, protecting her from all
comers, yet she could feel his arm tight around her and although it kept
her safe it also kept her from escaping. She heard the iron gate clang
shut behind them and it sounded rather like something in a prison
movie. She tried turning her head to look back at it but Greg was so
large beside her that he kept her turned forward. He led her across a
small yard partly covered in grass and partly in dirt. A mini-orchard
of three flowering cherry trees bloomed to her left but otherwise the
yard was bare, the grass being greenest under the trees, where a
sprinkler sat idle. The home itself looked to be made of whitewashed
adobe. It had a wooden porch that needed paint and that creaked under
their feet when Greg led Judy up onto it.
Two windows beckoned on either side of the front door of the
house. Their curtains were drawn, however, and they looked as if they
were drawn in the day too, not just in the evening. Judy thought she
saw dust on the windows, and perhaps on the heavy drapes hanging inside
the glass. The front door had been painted white, like the porch, but
the paint was flaking from it. However a new handle gleamed upon it,
with a sturdy lock built into the door above the handle.
Greg knocked on the door. His hands were big and his knuckles
rapped the door hard but it responded with only a dull thud. It was
thick. He knocked again, harder, and a slightly louder sound echoed
from the door in response.
After what appeared to be a deliberate period of waiting, as if
the house itself was judging whether to admit them or not, the front
door finally opened. A woman appeared. Her face looked flushed and her
cheeks were rouged. She wore bright red lipstick. Her eyes, though
large, were heavily mascaraed. Instead of a dress, as Judy expected,
she wore a cape. It draped over her shoulders, which were small, and
her breasts, which were large. It was held in place by a slim silver
chain that crossed over her throat. As the woman invited Judy into the
house, her boyfriend pushing her, to get themselves off the rain-exposed
porch, Judy saw that the woman wore a corset beneath the cape. But her
bosoms, though big and heavy and well-developed, were left free under
the cape.
The woman wore her hair in an elaborate chignon. It was
blonde. When she touched a hand to her hair, more in nervousness at
greeting the guests than for any other reason, her cape fell back from
her right bosom. Judy saw that her nipple had been carefully painted
with rougue, like her cheeks. She imagined that the woman’s other
nipple bore the same attentive blush of color. Far from hiding her
toplessness, the woman was emphasizing it, though in deference to the
new guests she drew her cape back over her bosom when she realized it
had been exposed.
“Hi, my name’s Sherry,” the blonde said. She smiled and took
Judy’s hand and shook it rather awkwardly, as if uncertain how to greet
her. Then, less ambivalently, she turned and devoted a full, warm gaze
to Greg. “Hi, Greg,” she said. “I didn’t get to meet you before but
I’ve heard a lot about you.” She seemed to wish to press herself
against him and she stood quite close to him, though with her hands at
her sides, back straight and face upturned, as if waiting for him to
sweep her up into his arms. Her cape fell open, for she was thrusting
her chest out, perhaps instinctively; yet if she was unaware of how she
offered her breasts to him she did not, when her nipples became exposed,
try to close her cape again.
Judy felt the halves of her vest separate, showing her own
breasts, and for the first time of the evening she didn’t try to pull
them together again. She let her nipples press into her blouse and she
showed no unease when they grew pointed tips. Two men walked into the
room. They were dressed, here in the inner city, in a part of the
Valley that wasn’t the priciest, in jodhpurs and long knee-length
boots. Though the nearest field for riding horses must be miles away,
they both wore riding caps and held riding crops in their hands.
“You need to get dressed for the fun,” a man said to Greg. The
other man eyed Judy. She would have closed her vest with an anxious
movement of her hands, but she felt jealous at the woman who stood so
alluringly before her boyfriend and so she let her bosoms with their
pink-tipped nipples be seen through her blouse by the strangers.
A second woman appeared. She was dressed like the first, but
she had long brown hair decoratively piled atop her head and she seemed
not to mind as her cape flew back behind her as she walked quickly
across the room. Her bare, bouncing bosoms were exposed and she wore an
elaborately tied-up corset beneath them. Its laces criss-crossed her
belly, leaving a space between the halves of her corset, where the laces
were, and Judy could see the woman’s dimpled navel amidst the
imprisoning laces. Below, more alarmingly, she could see the woman’s
bush. She was bare-legged, except for heels, and her white legs looked
like twin columns of slender, fragile marble as she advanced to Judy.
She was older than Sherry and projected an air of confidence. Yet there
were fresh red marks on the front of her thighs where someone had
apparently, very ungraciously, hit her three times on each of her legs
with something hard.
“Oh, you girls always overdress for the occasion,” the woman
said frankly to Judy. She was at least two inches taller than the girl
and Judy looked up at her with her deep blue eyes. Judy reached to pull
her vest closed over her breasts but the woman, very lightly but firmly,
caught hold of each of her wrists and kept them from finding her vest.
“Come,” she said simply, turning away, and tugging Judy along with her.
The woman looked at Sherry. “Did you put your panties back on just to
answer the door?” she scolded the girl. The blonde flushed. Judy saw
that Sherry wore small black panties. They stretched across her pubis,
barely covering it. They narrowed to a single ribbon-like drawstring on
both her hips. The drawstrings were tied off into twin bows. The bows
looked hastily tied and Judy saw that the panties hung loosely on the
girl’s hips. She found herself worrying that the panties might come
undone and slip down her legs. If they did, they stood a good chance of
being caught on the tops of very long black boots that stretched all the
way up to the tops of Sherry’s thighs. The boots were brightly
polished. They were made of leather. Judy wondered if, beneath the
boots, Sherry’s thighs were marked in the same way that the woman’s
were.
“You drove?” one of the men in riding clothes asked Greg.
“Yeah,” Greg answered. He seemed slightly overwhelmed by the
presense of the two females, especially the one that stood so willingly
and closely to him.
“I’ll send the boy out to take it downtown to the office,” the
man said to Greg. “You can have him retrieve it when it’s time to go.
This isn’t the best area for crime. We wouldn’t want to have to call
the police.”
Greg shrugged. “I’m sure I could break anybody’s ass who I saw
trying to get into my car,” he said.
“You won’t be spending a lot of time looking out the window,”
the man grinned in response. “Let the boy take it.”
Greg shrugged again. He let his hands wander to the waist of
the blonde who stood in front of him, inside her cape. “Okay,” he
answered.
Before Judy could even bid her boyfriend goodbye, she was
whisked from the room by the auburn-haired woman. To her relief, as she
tried to collect her thoughts, she heard footsteps behind her and saw
that Sherry was following. They went down a dimly lit hall, apparently
with walls made of adobe. Its whitewashed surfaces were illuminated by
sparely placed oil-lit lamps on the wall that gave off a soft glow.
Under their feet the floor was made of hard, polished wood, though there
had been a deep-pile carpet on the floor in the room where they’d
entered the house.
“My name is Ellen,” the auburn-haired woman said
matter-of-factly to Judy. She turned the girl and pushed her into a
room that bordered the hall. The room had a bed in it, but was
otherwise spartan. It had a nightstand, next to the bed. Bottles of
oil and jars of cream, one labelled “KY,” lay amidst a large pile of
foil-wrapped condoms. At the foot of the bed sat a chair. Near the
chair, in a corner of the room, was a large dressing mirror, with three
sides to it, opened up and angled in toward the bed, where they might
catch and reflect back anything that happened upon the bed. The bed
itself was high off the floor. Judy spotted a small set of steps next
to the bed, and realized she’d have to mount them if she were to climb
up into the bed. The bed had an iron headboard and footboard. Dangling
above the bed, as if left as an afterthought by something that had been
detached, was a chain. It was made of iron. A pair of iron manacles
lay open like alligator’s jaws at its bedward end. Its other end was
bolted into the wall. The walls of the bedroom were smooth,
whitewashed, and appeared to be made of adobe, like the walls in the
hall.
“This building used to be the county jail, but we’ve added a
little comfort to it,” Ellen smiled at Judy. The blonde was wide-eyed,
absorbing it all with trembling breaths. Behind her stood Sherry. The
girl was fiddling with the loose drawstrings of her panties, trying to
tighten them by pulling on the bows.
“We’ve got to get you ready. The men will want to see you in
no more than an hour,” Ellen said to Judy. She reached within the
girl’s open vest and began undoing the buttons of her blouse.
“What?” Judy protested. But Ellen’s hands worked quickly, and
Judy found herself standing like a small child before a teacher, a very
thorough and confident teacher, as her blouse was opened and pulled from
the waist of her skirt.
In back Judy felt Sherry lean in to her and unzip her
miniskirt.
“Oh, she has panties on!” Sherry said.
“I read your orders. Your boyfriend wished you to skip the
panties,” Ellen said to Judy. The blonde gulped. “Take them down,”
Ellen said, leaning around Judy’s small frame and addressing Sherry.
Judy felt small hands come to her waist and pull down on the panties.
They were expensive, from France, but they were not allowed and Judy
felt the cool air of the room touch her bottomcheeks as they descended.
Judy wriggled her legs, trying to resist, but Sherry got the panties
down past her scissoring knees and to her anklestraps on her shoes.
Then, insisting that Judy lift her feet, one at a time, the girl removed
the panties from Judy’s feet.
“There, that’s better,” Ellen said to Judy. She cupped the
blonde’s nest of pubic hair. “You’re wet,” she said, feeling with her
fingers between the blonde’s legs, pressing them up into her snatch.
Sherry offered Judy’s panties to her, dangling from a finger, and Ellen
took them. “You’ll come to regret these,” Ellen said to Judy. She held
the panties up, displaying them to the girl. They were small and frilly
and quite beautiful, but Judy’s boyfriend had prohibited panties.
“He already knows,” Judy replied glumly, but with just a touch
of pride. “He saw when I got out of his car.”
“Ah, yes. The skirt. You could hardly hide them, could you?”
Ellen mused. She glanced down at the discarded miniskirt which lay on
the floor. She dropped the panties onto it. She looked Judy in the
face. “That was daring of you to wear panties when you knew you weren’t
supposed to. I like that. You show promise. Come, we must do your
makeup.”
“I’ve already done my makeup,” Judy protested. But Ellen took
her by her wrist and drew her into the bathroom which adjoined the
bedroom. It was a prisoner’s toilet, a small cubicle with a flushable
hole in the floor that one could squat over to relieve oneself. In
addition to that there was, as a new addition, a roll of soft toilet
paper attached next to the squat hole. And next to the roll of toilet
paper, dispensed from two separate wall-mounted boxes, were tampons and
tampaxes, depending on the woman’s preference. Upon the far wall,
across from the squat hole, was another new item, a small two-handled
sink, with a shelf and mirror above it. Electric vanity lights
surrounded the mirror to make it easy to see oneself. In a cabinet
placed on the wall next to the mirror were tubes of lipstick, eyeliner,
brushes, all in a variety of shades and sizes, plus fresh soap and
powder and rougue. In one corner of the small cubicle a round metal
plate was installed in the ceiling. It had holes in it and there was a
cord in the wall which, if pulled on, dispensed water. It was a
makeshift shower, and since there was no room for it a drain was cut
under it, in the floor, so that when the water had cascaded down into
the cubicle-sized bathroom it could run down the drain. There was a
slight drainward slant to the floor of the room to encourage the water
to find the drain.
“You have bathed?” Ellen asked Judy. Judy nodded.
“Good, then we can skip your bath for now,” Ellen said.
“You’ll need one later, when the men are finished with you. Let’s get
right to work on your makeup. I’m sure they’re eager to see you.”
There was a wooden stool in the room, in front of the sink.
Judy was about to sit down on it, bare-bottomed, when Ellen told Sherry
to get a pillow from the bed.
“She must have something nice and soft to sit her bottom on, so
as not to mark it,” Ellen smiled at Sherry. Judy felt thankful that
they were so attentive to her heinie. She’d been worried that it might
be laid bare for some sinister purpose.
“Thanks,” Judy said, when Sherry had plopped a big pillow down
on the stool for her. Carefully she seated herself on it. She felt it
cushion her and it felt so big it was like riding on a boat at sea.
“Too bad you can’t tie that underneath you,” Ellen smirked.
She began enlarging the girl’s already large eyes with mascara. “Sit
still,” she warned, as Judy wobbled on the big pillow.
“What will I... do for the men?” Judy asked in a high-pitched
voice. With the stool and the pillow under her she was high enough off
the ground that she could only touch the floor with her tip-toes.
“Shhhh, no talking,” Ellen said to the girl. “We must make you
look your prettiest.”
Judy consoled herself to sitting quietly, letting the women
work on her. They painted her lips and her cheeks and her nipples.
They powdered the hair of her pussy. They made her stand and bent her
over and they spread the cheeks of her bottom. They painted the
crinkled lips of her anus just as they’d done to her teats and mouth and
cheeks. Finally, sitting her down again, they piled her hair atop her
head in a coiffure. When they were finished Judy looked at herself in
the vanity mirror. She looked like a girl about to go to a royal ball.
But when she asked for clothes, they gave her only a cape, like they
wore.
“I wish we could do the corset but there simply isn’t time,”
Ellen said. Sherry nodded.
“We’ll get in trouble if she’s late,” she agreed.
“Do you have to pee?” Ellen asked Judy. Earlier she’d asked,
to Judy’s amazement, if she had to go to the bathroom, especially number
two, but Judy had simply shaken her head ‘no.’ Now she admitted that
she had to make water.
“Squat down over the hole, then,” Ellen said. The two women
held up Judy’s cape while the girl bent down and relieved herself in the
hole. Then Ellen insisted on wiping her snatch herself, to make sure it
was done with the utmost care. “I’ll get blamed if you aren’t perfect,”
Ellen explained.
Dressed in her cape, wearing only her jewelry and heels besides
that, Judy was taken back down the hall. Now, upon entering the room
where she’d first come into the home, she found the two men in jodhpurs
and boots lounged in chairs. Between them, dressed now as they were,
was her lover. The men looked like young dandies awaiting mounts.
Ellen and Sherry delivered Judy into their care. Then, Ellen moved to
one side of the room, where someone had placed a duffel bag on a table.
She unzipped it. To Judy’s heartbeating surprise, she saw the handles
of canes and whips protrude from the bag as it opened. Sherry,
meanwhile, moved to the wet bar at the other side of the room. She
began taking down bottles and glasses to pour the men drinks.
“Ah, come forward, my dear,” one of the men said to Judy. The
blonde flinched and stood her ground. She felt small and weak before
the men. She drew her cape about her and stared back at them,
unblinkingly, like a fawn caught in headlights on a rainy evening in the
mountains.
“Do as he says,” Greg said gruffly to Judy. “Open your cape!”
Judy let her hands fall to her sides. The cape fell away and left her
tummy and the inner curves of her breasts exposed. At a glare from her
lover she shifted her arms out, lifting the cape off the tips of her
breasts so that her nipples could be seen. Then she stood quietly,
letting them admire her nudity. Her lover, after a pause, turned to the
man beside him, the one who had not spoken. Quite audibly, so that
everyone in the room could hear, all six of them, he said, “She wore
panties when I told her not to.”
“Cheeky, eh?” the man who had spoken first smiled. He held a
riding crop in his hands, as did Greg and the other man. They each had
polished leather belts around their waists. They were big men, Greg
perhaps the biggest but the other two no slouches in appearance when it
came to physical strength. With their starched long-sleeved shirts,
held at their wrists with cufflinks, their muscles bulged. They were
big in the chest, all three of them, and their thighs were big and their
arms, and between their legs Judy detected a swelling. Unlike their
arms or their chests or their thighs, it grew on each of them as they
observed her, until each sported a bulge in his crotch that was quite
distinct. Ellen and Sherry, noticing, shared a giggle, one on one side
of the room, the other on the other side. Judy blushed, seeing the
excitement of the three men.
The man who had spoken beckoned her and, with reluctant steps,
glancing at Greg for a reprieve and finding none, Judy walked up to him
and, gracefully as she might, perched herself on her knee. She tried to
tuck her cape under her bottom but he prevented it with his hand. She
was forced to put her bare seat on the worsted cloth of his trousers.
“This is in the way,” the man said, and reached up and
unclasped the chain around Judy’s throat, freeing her cape. Sherry
hurried over and took the cape from the man.
Judy did not even know the name of the man on whose knee she
sat, or that of the man at her rear. At least he was separated from her
by the presence of her lover, but she could feel his eyes drilling into
her backside as all three of them gazed at her denuded body. The man
who didn’t trouble to tell her his name lifted a hand and cupped each of
her breasts. She was forced to sit quietly, biting her lip, butterflies
rising within her belly. When he had assured himself of their
heaviness, he drew upon them with his fingers, plucking at her nipples.
He did this repeatedly until Judy, who’d already been tickled into
stiffness by the embarrassment of coming here and of having her nipples
painted, presented to him the absolutely hardest little coral-tipped
nipples a man could dream of. She kept her hands pressed tightly
between her thighs and she wanted to touch herself in her slit because
she felt eager within the delving softness of her legs, where her spot
was, just as she did at the tips of her breasts. When the man’s hand
finally left her breasts, leaving them a little sore from his repeated
pulling upon them, he ran it down the smooth flatness of her belly.
Instinctively Judy looked down at her waist and opened her legs and
pulled out her hands. She let him peer down within her thighs at her
slit. It felt moist and she knew it had newly moistened upon coming
into the room. He touched a finger to her bush, prodding it. Then he
pushed his finger lower, between her thighs, and Judy did not stop him.
She told herself to close her legs but they would not close. They
remained prettily opened to him and when she felt his finger brush her
spot she knew she was undone. She gave a loud, breathy sigh. Her head
flinched.
The man lifted his hand from her wet, snug little private and
patted her belly. He looked over at Greg.
“She is on the pill?” he asked Greg. Her lover shrugged.
“I don’t know. She hasn’t gotten pregnant,” he replied.
The man looked at Judy. “Are you on the pill?” he asked her.
She wanted to deny it, to tell him ‘no.’ But in a little voice she
admitted she was.
“Good,” the man said. He patted her on her tummy again and
dipped a finger into her navel. “You’ll need it.”
“There are some in her bedroom, in the bathroom cabinet,” Ellen
said from the far corner where she was removing items from the duffel
bag and laying them out on the small square wooden table. Canes, a
martinet, an iron brand that looked, from Judy’s distance, like an
innocent fireplace poker lost from a fireset. Frightening things, but
not all of them recognizable to her. She squirmed on the man’s knee.
“Do you know why you were brought here?” the man asked Judy.
“No,” Judy answered gravely.
“For punishment,” the man answered. His tone was serious.
Judy flinched. Sherry interrupted, asked the men what drinks they
preferred from the bar. When they had ordered she asked Judy her
preference.
“I...” Judy began. “Pina Colada,” she finally decided. Her
thoughts were a whirl. “Bloody Mary” kept intruding into her mind but
she didn’t want to give the men any ideas.
“For a long time you have wondered about a place such as this,
have you not?” the man on whose knee Judy sat asked her. He patted her
belly. He did not give her the pleasure of delving between her legs
again, though she kept them open for him. He did not touch her
stiff-nippled breasts that hung so freely just above his warm, calloused
palm.
Judy remained quiet. She bit her lip. She looked down at
herself, at her perfect breasts, at the man’s hand on her belly. She
shifted her legs, closed them slightly, then opened them again, wider.
A shiver ran visibly through her.
The drinks were served. Sherry served Judy last, but before
serving herself or Ellen.
Judy sipped her drink. The men talked. They talked about her
at first, about her beauty, but then their conversation drifted to their
jobs, and Judy found herself wishing it would return to focus on her.
When they rambled into the latest sports scores she turned suddenly to
the man on whose knee she sat and grabbed his tie. Perhaps to spite her
boyfriend, or to get him to rescue her, or to be the center of attention
again, she offered her lips to the man on whose knee she sat. Suddenly
they were kissing, and she writhed on his knee, bending into him, and
his hand found her spot again at last and frigged her lightly as she and
he dueled and explored with their tongues.
Their mouths separated. Her earlobes were wet with his kisses
and her throat. Her mouth had licked down his neck and she’d undone the
top button of his shirt.
“Come,” the man said. He stood. He pushed Judy off his knee
but only to make her stand. The minute she was on her feet he turned
her, facing her into the hall. He guided her forward with sure hands on
her shoulders. Despite the heaviness of her breasts her shoulders were
slim and frail and his big hands captured them quite easily. As she was
forced to walk ahead of him she tried to look back, over her shoulder
and his gripping hand, at her boyfriend, but he prevented it, without
even really trying. He was tall and she was short, standing in front of
him, and there was no way she could get herself around for a look at her
boyfriend, much less a final goodbye. She contemplated calling out to
him as she was pushed into the dark hall, but it seemed useless. He
could see her going and she knew he was as big as the man who was taking
her, and could stop him if he wished, but he didn’t wish to. As Judy
entered the hall she heard Ellen, or perhaps it was Sherry, laugh, and
the men laughed, and she imagined the two females had replaced the man
behind her on the couch.
They returned to Judy’s assigned room, where she had been
undressed and prepared. Ushering her inside, ahead of himself, the man
closed and locked the door. Judy turned to him and saw him immediately
begin undressing. The door was big and sturdy behind him, her only
means of escape. He was broad and tall and as he took off his shirt she
saw he had a very hairy chest. He flexed his arms, his chest. Then he
unbuckled his belt and drew it out from his pantsloops. He had left his
riding crop in the other room.
“Your boyfriend has told me that he has spanked you but I am
not your boyfriend and I do not intend to spank you,” the man said to
Judy. For a moment relief flickered across her features. She was
standing naked in front of him, but near the bed, where she might have
some chance of running past him if he advanced. She had no idea how she
would unlock the bedroom door, however. She’d seen him slip the key to
that in the pocket of his trousers.
The man gestured at the room, at the whitewashed walls, at the
bed. “Have you ever been in prison?” the man asked Judy. She shook her
head ‘no,’ that she had not. She was only 19. She had not been a bad
girl. “This was once a prison,” the man said. “It’s been renovated, of
course. Girls like yourself from good families must have better than a
prison offers. The bed, for instance. And the vanity mirror, and the
vaseline on the nightstand, to make things easier for you.” He gave her
a smirk. “But the prison walls remain, and the prison toilet, though it
flushes now. And there is one other change. In prison you might be
brutalized casually, uncaringly. Everyone wants to take advantage of
you and no one wants to help you. Here, of course, as a well-brought up
girl, you must have your meals and your regular baths and the things you
enjoy, like lipstick and nail polish. Indeed, only the best girls are
brought here, girls who would die without such things, and you are
required to look your best always here, no matter what happens.”
The man doubled his belt and slapped it hard against his
thigh. He moved not a muscle but Judy, simply watching, nearly jumped
out of her toenails. She stood nude, trepidation written across her
face. Her mouth looked worried and her eyes were huge, especially with
the extra mascara on them. Her bosoms stood out from her chest like big
swollen peaches with nipple-like stems that seemed to beg for plucking.
She passed her hands briefly over her belly and the man looked leeringly
at the bush she couldn’t help showing him. It was blonde like her hair.
“You won’t be punished casually, though it may seem that you
are,” the man said to her. “But you will be punished. Unlike a real
prison, where the harm is real and seems stupid, this prison’s
punishment will be measured and will leave you only with a few marks, or
none at all. You will remember your visit here always and, I can assure
you, you are quite the prisoner now. All the pent up feelings you’ve
entertained about being captured, enslaved, they will be brought out and
explored here.” The man grinned as he saw Judy nervously swallow.
“Yes, I know what girls dream about,” he said with a sly,
knowing, delighted look. “Let me assure you, in some ways this prison
will be worse than a real one, because punishment is part of your
sentence here. In real prisons you have rights and nothing is supposed
to happen to you, although much does. Here you have yourself, and you
have me, and you have the sentence that I am going to impose on you on a
daily basis.”
“What-- what must I do?” Judy asked. Deep down she felt
somehow she could still save herself. The man was almost as handsome as
her boyfriend and if she hadn’t met him she might easily have fallen for
this man, although he seemed a good bit harsher than her boyfriend had
ever been. In a way, burning deep down in her belly, between her
thighs, where she kept feeling immodestly moist, she realized her
boyfriend had given her to this man, at least for a little while,
because he knew the man was harder than he was. And he was a stranger
to her, he loved her erotically, but not with the overlay of shared
emotions that lovers like boyfriends and girlfriends have.
The man laughed. “You hope to simply service me and perhaps
escape your punishment? I’m afraid not. Get up on the bed. I can wait
for my pleasure. It will be sweeter after I see you cry.”
“Nooooo!” Judy screamed. She tried to dart around the man as
he advanced but he caught her by her arm and nearly, she thought, broke
it, he gripped her so hard. In fact her stance was just awkward as he
seized her and when she regained her balance, almost falling onto the
hard floor, she felt the harsh discomfort in her forearm ease. The man
waited while she steadied herself on her 5 inch heels.
“Now get up on the bed,” the man said to her. “Use the
steps.” He turned her and kicked the stairs out a little so she would
be encouraged to mount them. She had no other way to get up on the big
bed and, relenting finally, wary of his doubled-belt, she advanced up
the steps in her heels. He watched her. Judy’s bare bottom rolled
alluringly and although she put her hands back behind herself to try to
stop it she could not. When she had reached the top step, the man still
peering at her heinie and into the crack which pierced it and ran
tightly up the middle of it, she was forced to bend over. She kneed her
way onto the bed. She felt her asscheeks open behind her and the man
saw, she was certain, right into her hole. Besides that he was given an
excellent view of her pussy. It lay in double-lipped snugness at the
apex of her thighs and could not be hidden, even by squeezing her
bottomcheeks.
“Crawl forward on the bed and then I want you to stand,” the
man explained. Judy crouched in fright on the bed. How could she stand
on the mattress in her heels? “Take them off,” the man said simply. “I
give you permission. I don’t want you breaking your ankle.”
Judy complied. She was grateful to be rid of her heels now, in
the bed. She thought it was silly to wear high heels to bed, though she
knew men liked seeing girls dressed that way. She unstrapped her spiked
heels and tossed them over the side of the bed. They clattered to the
floor. Just as she was about to slide under the bedcovers the man gazed
down at her, for he stood over the bed like an ogre even though it was a
high bed, and he said, “Stand up. Take hold of the chain.”
Judy wanted to cry. Nervously she bit her lip but, looking up
at the man, at the sternness in his eyes and his grim mouth, she finally
relented and stood. He offered her a hand. She took it. She got up
feeling like some private pet, some creature about to be put on
display. And indeed as she, at his insistence, turned and faced the
wall and reached up and grabbed hold of the chain that hung down, the
door opened.
“Oh! They are playing,” Ellen said. She and Sherry peeked
in. Ellen pushed a cane through the opened door and dropped it onto the
floor. “Here, you might need this,” she smiled at the two of them, the
man and Judy. The blonde stood on the bed with her hands aloft and her
feet planted firmly, her legs apart, though no one had yet explained to
her the regulation stance for a caning. She gazed back over her frail
shoulder at them. Her bottom was thrust back, though only by accident,
for she had trouble keeping herself absolutely straight standing on the
bed, with her toes so close to the headboard and the bow in the mattress
behind her. It was a well-used mattress, bowing a little toward the
center as a result of the many lovers who had slept upon it.
“May we watch?” Sherry asked. Her eyes were bright. Judy
sensed mischief, a delight in seeing someone else put through her
paces. She wedged herself in the door, despite Ellen’s reluctance. At
last the woman followed. In came the two men behind them, including
Judy’s lover. They both were nude from the waist down, though they
retained their shirts. They had erections as big as logs and Ellen took
hold of Judy’s lover by his penis and led him into the room much as one
might lead a horse by a long pair of reins. Sherry grasped the other
man’s cock once she was in the room. Gently she rubbed it, enough to
keep him brimming but still lightly enough that she might prevent his
coming too soon. This man not only carried a tight sac of sperm between
his legs, like Judy’s lover did. He also carried the duffel bag. It
remained unzipped but implements of flagellation could be seen
protruding from it.
“Close the door,” Ellen said to Sherry. “There are others
here, not just us. I don’t wish them to just be able to walk by and
see.”
Sherry let go of the man she was frigging and went to the door
and closed it. The man she’d been frigging handed her a key from his
pocket. Ellen remained beside Judy’s lover, pleasuring his penis with
her hands. Her small palms were sticky. Greg was leaking pre-cum.
Just as Sherry was about to lock the door, there was a knock.
Two more females entered. Both were dressed in sexy tube dresses. They
looked like they had just arrived at the house. They gazed first at
Ellen, then at Greg, then back at Ellen again. Judy, still standing,
holding the chain, watched with alarm as they put their hands gleefully
to the bare backside of her lover. One of them impertinently pinched
his ass. Greg let out a startled cry.
Judy was about to leap down from the bed. The women were both
as beautiful as she and they were almost as young. They gazed at her
lover with possessive eyes. Pleadingly, they got him to turn around and
face them. They gazed at his huge naked manhood with ravished eyes.
Judy had just let go of the chain above her head when the man whose name
she didn’t know, but who now controlled her every movement, seized her
wrists. Dropping his belt he lifted Judy’s arms above her head and,
with a quick, practised motion, he locked her hands into the open-jawed
manacles.
Looking back, looking up, looking back again at her lover, Judy
saw that she was thoroughly trapped inside the manacles. Their jaws
were snugly closed now, around her wrists, and they must have been made
for a slender young female like herself for she couldn’t escape them,
despite how slim and small her wrists were. They were helpfully padded
on the inside but, otherwise, they were as ruthless as anything she
might have been bound into in a real prison. “No!” Judy shouted. She
watched as the two women, still dressed in street clothes, persuaded her
lover from the room with soft, loving, adoring caresses of his cock.
“It is better if you’re not here,” Ellen agreed, patting Greg
on his ass. Judy thought that once he tried to look back at her, but it
was only once, and in a moment the door was closed and he was gone and
she could only hear delighted female screams in the hall. Sherry, still
holding the key, locked the door.
“We will need a gag,” the man who now controlled Judy said. “I
don’t want her screaming for help or bloodying her lip or her tongue by
biting on it.” He took a gag from the nightstand beside the bed, where
it lay hidden in a small drawer, and he wrapped it around Judy’s lips.
He made her open her mouth to the gag and he wedged it between her teeth
so that it lay across the corners of her wide-open lips. The gag was
made of soft canvas. He pulled it so tightly and wedged it so deeply
that it forced Judy’s tongue back into the recesses of her mouth.
For a moment Judy thought she was going to strangle herself on
the gag. The man knotted it behind her head. Then, pausing to help
her, he lifted her chin and made her practise breathing through her
nose. Only when he was satisfied that she could get sufficient air
through her nostrils did he return to his work. He reached down, took
hold of her ankles. As Judy heaved her breasts, practising her
breathing, the man placed her feet in a wider stance. “Get me a
spreader bar,” he called to Ellen. “I don’t want this young filly
kicking me.”
Judy lifted first one foot, then the other, hoping somehow to
escape, but the man kept his hands planted firmly on her feet and only
seemed to allow her to move so he could look up between her tensing and
untensing bottomcheeks. When Judy realized she was only pleasing him
with her struggles, she stopped, standing stock still again. She
concentrated once more on her breathing. Each indrawn breath lifted her
bosoms, each exhalation let them down. Her breasts quavered like ripe
fruit. Her nipples were stiff stems waiting to be pinched and plucked
by some gardener’s fingers.
Ellen brought the spreader bar. It had been hidden in the
duffel bag and she’d had trouble getting it to telescope out to the
proper length for Judy’s widespread legs. She and Sherry, pulling on it
(Sherry letting go for the moment her lover’s penis) finally got it to
extend to its full length. Ellen brought it to the man who controlled
Judy. He took it. With easy, quick hands, like a father tying his
daughter’s shoes for school, he placed it around Judy’s ankles and
locked it.
The man stepped back. Ellen and Sherry returned to the other
stranger, whose name was as unknown to Judy as the man beside her.
Together they pleasured his cock, waiting for the caning of Judy’s
bottom to bring him to fulfillment.
The man beside Judy had chosen a stiff but flexible prison cane
for her first punishment. With the same easy grace that his hands had
displayed in shackling her, he now flexed the cane much as a man might
flex his cock. He watched its snakelike length tense and move rigidly
under his grasp. Judy, gazing from the bed, watched too.
The man slapped the wall in front of Judy with his palm. “That
wall is hard,” he told her. “The bed is soft but you’re standing on it,
so it’s no help to you. You’re soft but the wall will feel hard against
your face and the cane will feel quite hard against your ass, however
much I might make it bend in my hands now as I’m holding it.” He bent
the cane for good effect, making her watch as he strained to bend it
almost double. When he released one end, it whirred away, making her
flinch as it snapped back into position. “I don’t do plastic surgery,”
he told her. “And I’m not a dentist. I sell cars.” He grinned. “Lots
of them. But not enough to pay for your pretty face. So keep back from
the wall. I’ve whipped children before, ten and 12-year-old girls, and
I had to tie them downstairs to a padded post, to protect their faces
and their little bodies. But someone else is using the post tonight,
and I’m not about to keep you waiting, or myself.” He saw Judy’s eyes
dart to the bulge in his crotch.
“You’re a big girl,” he continued. “Sure, you’re new, but
you’re 19. Stay back from the wall and don’t go slamming your face into
it. I’m going to give you the cane slowly, one stroke at a time.
You’re to present your bottom for it and I won’t hit you until you’re
ready. By the time you leave this place you’ll have learned to ask for
each stroke, and you’ll know how to take a caning without biting off
your tongue or screaming so loudly the others hear, or even the people
passing by on the street. But I won’t force you to that level tonight.
However,” he paused. He gazed with loving admiration at her pert
teenaged bottom. “I do intend to take advantage of you another way.”
Instinctively Judy flexed her hind cheeks. She wondered if he knew. He
sensed it, she gathered, her little secret that she’d hoped only her
boyfriend shared with her.
“How long have you known your boyfriend?” the man asked Judy
with a sly grin. Then he realized she was gagged. “No matter. He
needs help, in my opinion, if he hasn’t taken you that way by now. I
intend to help him, so he can have you that way the next time you two
are together.”
“NOOOOOOO!” Judy screamed through her gag. But the man only
laughed. Behind her Ellen and Sherry laughed, and also the man they
were pleasuring; slowly, so as not to make him cum until after he’d
enjoyed her torment.
“Yes, little bitch, I’m going to take your virgin bottom,” the
man with the cane gloated. He watched Judy begin to struggle in her
bonds, harder than she ever had before. And as she tried to break free,
quite uselessly, he unzipped himself and took pleasure in her frightened
hapless movements by masturbating himself.
He did not cum. He did not want to cum in his hand, but in her
wriggling virgin hole. Judy kept her cheeks tightpressed but he had a
means of getting them to spread and open for him. He drew back the
thin, whippy cane and aimed the first stroke. He aimed for the
mid-point of her seat, right where her cheeks swelled to their fullest.
“Present your bottom to me,” the man told Judy. With her mouth
gaping wide, her eyes showing fear, breathing through her nostrils, Judy
tried to keep from giving him what he wanted. But he placed a hand on
her tummy and drew her back until her ass was positively stuck out
behind her as if it sported some waggling tail and she was a dog
attached to it. But there was no tail, only her bare, satiny white
bottom. “That’s good. Hold that position,” he said. He looked in her
eyes, still with his palm on her belly. “Don’t make me hold you out
like that or I’ll find a way to take you off the pill, and keep you off,
and you’ll be here nine months from now bearing a child for me.” He saw
the fright well up in her already frightened eyes. “Ah, you see? I
favor you by promising to fuck your butthole. It will keep you from
having a baby.” He patted her belly. “I have gotten girls pregnant
before,” he said. “Don’t think I can’t manage it if I wish to.”
Then he let go of her. Yet she saw that he would soon make
contact again, but with a different hand, the one that held the cane.
He drew the thing back again. Judy, striving to find courage somewhere
inside herself, pushed her bottom out to him, perhaps taunting him with
a final defiance, showing him her ass more boldly than even he had
asked. This final, butt-splitting, show of her feminine willpower sent
him over the edge. Without further ado, to restore his pride or his
dominance or simply to please his wicked desires, he brought the cane
sharply against her ass.
“OHHHHHHH!” Judy cried within her gag. She felt tears burst
from her eyes and her gag became wet on her tongue. She almost retched,
she felt so frightened, and she wished she might so it might clog her
nose and force the man to release her. But her tummy didn’t rebel, in
the end, and she found herself a minute later still dancing alone on the
bed, unable to pick up her feet but gyrating her bare ass quite lewly
and wildy. She wriggled it like a fish trying to escape the line,
except the line was red and it was printed quite firmly across her
bottom. When at last she stilled, snivelling but with her nostrils
still clear (alas!) the man drew back his cane and brought it anew upon
her.
This time it hit Judy on the underside of her bottom. She
shrieked and lifted high up on her toes. The soft undercheeks of her
curving bottom felt like they’d sat on a grate in front of a fire. She
shook her ass. Her perfect coiffure began falling to pieces around her
eyes. She pressed her belly to the wall and ground its softness into
the hard-baked adobe. When at last she’d recovered herself the man
grinned.
“Time for another,” he said softly. This time he hit the
uppermost part of her bottom, where it curved away into the small of her
back. Again Judy was sent into a spasm of crying and screaming and she
found herself pressing the side of her face up against the wall,
sticking her bottom out behind herself and rotating it like some bare
fleshy sphere in the cool air of the room. Ellen laughed.
“Oh, she shows it so nicely,” she said.
“Yes, it’s pretty, how she does that,” Sherry agreed.
“She has the perfect ass for it, nice and high and round,” the
man they pleasured with their hands agreed. They might have knelt and
serviced him with their mouths but they wished to watch Judy.
“Now another, across the crown of your bottom, the summit,” the
man with the cane warned Judy. It was polite of him to tell her where
he would hit her on her bottom next, but she was quite oblivious to his
show of manners. Her whole bare seat felt like it had been scalded, the
glow spreading from the marks left on her skin to enflame her whole
bottom in a wretched heat. He brought the cane in again, careful not to
strike where he had before. She paid no attention to his care in
striking her, protesting loudly and heaving against the wall and
gyrating her naked ass in the most salacious manner, worse even than the
time she’d jumped on a table at a Christmas party and pretended to be a
stripper. Her mother had discovered her, dancing in front of three
little boys in the dining room while their parents partied in the next
room. She’d been 8, they’d been 9, 6, and 5. Judy’s mother had scolded
her fiercely and promised to have her father spank her. But he had been
a doting father, and she’d gotten away with it. Now, however, her
adventurous side had caught up with her. The man with the cane had no
compunction about punishing her. And he promised worse to come,
something her boyfriend had even relented in doing.
As the man delivered the final blows with the cane he began to
grease himself. He did it while he waited for Judy to settle down after
each application of the rod. She struggled less now. Her ass was sore
beyond belief and she hung exhausted in her manacles after a few
helpless wriggles. Between her tears, her ass protruding behind her,
Judy watched.
At last the man was satisfied with his handiwork. Judy felt
like a big red butterball in back. She felt like a turkey left too long
in the oven, turned an unsightly color and with the skin stretched taut
to the breaking point. Her face blubbered pathetically while her ass,
streaked with red, looked like it might sink down into the bed like the
setting sun.
The man with the cane tossed it away. He mounted the bed
behind Judy. He was big and he hopped up onto the bed without using the
stairs. He did not bother removing his shoes. He stood behind her. He
clasped her around her waist and drew her back. Judy felt his manhood
prod her dell but he lifted it and stuck it between the cheeks of her
bottom instead. It was a pretty high-set ass, streaked with marks from
his cane but still showing lily-white skin in a few places the cane
hadn’t found. Grinning, he wedged his flanged cockhead into her tight
little hole. Some of the rouge that had been painted by Ellen on the
crinkly dimple got on the head of his penis as he forced it repeatedly
upon her. Finally he was able to stick his head entirely inside. Judy
let out a pained shriek as she felt his cockhead, banging away aginst
her tight hole, suddenly plunge in up to its flange.
The man groaned with pleasure. She felt him work his hips
behind her. He was striving to retain his seed. He was wicked. He
wanted himself all the way up her, not just in to the head, when he
expelled his hot sperm in her bottom.
For the next hour Judy was plugged. At first she was just
plugged to the tune of an inch and a half, his big head inside her gut,
but as the hour wore on, despite her shrieks and protests and her moans
for mercy, he worked himself deeper. In the end he got what he wanted.
She found herself sinking her weight upon his loins. The fulness of her
bottom pressed against his wicked belly; the lowest part of his belly,
where his swimsuit or his underpants should have covered him, but
nothing did. His cock split her ass and it grooved all the way up her
and he delighted in feeling his manhood so thoroughly embedded in her
backside. Wickedly he shafted her. Back he would pull, giving her a
hoped for relief, but then he’d stab up her again, and she screamed
anew. She hung exhausted in the manacles and wriggled her hips, resting
upon him. Long tongues of flame scorched her bottom and she moved it
involuntarily, as she had for the past hour. Her movements combined
with his brought him to his climax. At last, to Judy’s immense relief,
she felt his sperm suddenly leap deep within her, deep where only
herself was supposed to be, in her feminine bowels. He had stuck his
throbbing cock way up inside her, mating with her, so wickedly and
incorrectly, and now the thrill of it, and her wobbling on his loins,
caused him to lose himself. He gasped and Judy screamed anew, and
finally she fell back against him.
The man kissed Judy. She barely moved. She was flooded in her
intestines and she could only wonder, half-awake and half-delerious, if
this meant she’d poop out white-coated shit. The man softened inside
her, growing more like herself with the passing minutes, though his hard
belly and loins remained pressed up against her. When he was much
smaller than he’d been going in, he removed himself.
The man left. His entertainment was done. His conquest of her
was history now. Ellen stayed long enough to remove Judy’s gag and help
her lie down on the bed. Sherry stayed longer. She attended to her
bare wounded bottom with salves and precious creams from the Orient.
Then at last she left, and only Judy herself remained.
When daybreak came, though not to this hidden, windowless room,
Judy’s lover entered and woke her. He drew back her warm bedcovers. He
inspected her bottom. She flinched at his slightest touch. She begged
him not to touch her but he was insistent.
“An excellent job,” he said at last, of the caning. Judy
blanched, lying face down on the bed. She wished to curse him but she
did not have the strength.
“How are you?” her breathed quietly in her ear. He kissed
her. Judy raised herself on her elbows. She rolled over. She
flinched, looked wildly up at the ceiling a moment as her bottom came in
contact with the smooth sheet underneath her. Then she gazed up at
him. Her eyes had a defeated look in them but at the same time they had
a certain pride, for she had been taken more ruthlessly than ever before
and she had endured. And she knew her lover would be jealous of how it
had all ended, in a way he could never share now, for it would never be
her first time again. Not that way.
“He fucked me up my hole,” Judy winced. She looked deep into
her lover’s eyes. “My bottomhole.”
Quite unexpectedly, her lover simply stroked her belly and gave
her a kiss. He poked her in her navel and Judy would have giggled but
she was too tired to giggle.
“I know,” Greg replied. “He fucked you and it was your first
time while, downstairs, I fucked another, and it was her first time. I
could do it to her, despite her protests, because she does not belong to
me. And he could do you for the same reason.”
Judy’s eyes gaped up at him. She had not expected such a
response. Her generous mouth with its bee-stung lips pouted in
dissatisfaction. She had hoped to make him angry, but he had been
master all along, or had stumbled into mastery, she didn’t know which.
She had her cherry popped by a stranger but he, a stranger to another
girl, had popped hers in turn. The men, both men, had won, and both
girls had gotten themselves deflowered.
“Well it hurt,” Judy added, hoping still to make him feel
deprived somehow. She had not liked having a strange man fuck her up
her bottom, however slowly he might have taken her, however much he
might have shown care in leading her up to it with the cane.
“Yes, I’m sure it did,” Greg replied. “And now while you’re
still limber from your long night, my little darling, I’m going to roll
you over and take you myself.”
“Nooooo!” Judy cried. But it was too late, she was lifted up
and plopped face down on the bed, on her flat belly, which seemed to get
no sperm at all these days, despite her religiously taking her pill.
Judy felt her bottomcheeks spread and her boyfriend mounted her and
quartered her with his cock. He had to work himself in, but she was
unable to resist like she wanted to, she was so sleepy. Her limbs were
weary and her bottom, having spent the night flexing and squeezing, was
tired too. Greg got himself up her and when he finally came, deep
inside her, Judy knew that she had become a complete woman at last,
experienced, however slightly, in all three of her private places. Her
mouth at 12, her pussy at 13 and now, in this windowless room, in a bed
little used for sleeping, up her ass. When her lover was done
he removed himself and he kissed her.
“The girls will bring you some food in a while,” he told her.
“I’ll be back again when I’m hard. Be looking your best for me.” He
left then, leaving her quite ruined, but expecting her to be perfect
again when he returned.
30excerpts below
“How do you like staying here?” Sandra asked.
“It hurts to stay here,” Lisa replied ruefully.
“Of course dear, but love can be a little painful sometimes, like when
your hymen is piereced or you give birth to a baby,” Sandra replied.
She stroked Lisa’s soft hair. You do want to have a baby someday, don’t
you?
“Of course.
Well this will perpeare you a little. It will hurt much less than
birthing a baby, I can assure you!
30
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