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From: Andrew Roller <roller39@IDT.NET>
Subject: Chambers of Love part 8 of 18 (NND)
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_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
CHAMBERS OF LOVE
_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
Chapter Eight
A palatial mansion awaited us. Julie and I gazed at it with
awe and trepidation. Master sat opposite us in a horse drawn carriage.
We wore see-through blouses, white lacy fingerless gloves. Our ample
cleavage had bounced all the way, as before, for women never seemed to
be given bras in such conveyances, just when they needed them most. Our
nipples showed pinkly through the fabric.
Below we wore below-the-knee skirts, as if to compensate for
our immodesty above. And we had finally been given panties, though tiny
red ones of semi-sheer silk. We wore fine net stockings and small,
buttoned-up ankle boots. I shivered as I gazed at the castle, for with
all its stone work it seemed more castle to me now than house. I looked
at the count. His gaze was admiring, benign.
"What's the rent go for on a place like that?" I asked.
"My, a bit of a tomboy, aren't you? Or a smarty pants."
"Do you think I'm saucy?" I asked. I tossed my hair. I didn't
know why I'd become such a sassy little thing lately. Perhaps it was
the sex. I certainly wasn't the same girl who dawdled by the condo
pool, dreaming idly about when my prince would come.
"I will make you a sweet little girl again. Though I must
admit I find your current self most amusing," the count said. I
shivered. The man was implacable. He only spoke of torturing me,
seemed to resent my newfound worldliness. Was I really so worldly? Was
I really prepared for what he promised he had in store for me? I
crouched down in my seat, suddenly becoming more the little girl he
wanted me to be.
Up a cobbled drive we went. Our titties bounced gaily, to my
dismay, the count's delight. The carriage stopped. Footmen approached,
opened the door, greeted the count. We were helped down from the
carriage by the footmen as if we were visiting royalty. Under their
guidance we mounted the flight of stone steps that led up to the
mansion. Behind us the carriage driver urged the horses onward to a
back-yard stable, though at the time I only guessed of the stable. I
would learn much more of that later.
A great wooden door loomed before us. Our boots clicking on
the stone, we stepped onto the porch. We gazed at the door. The count
came up behind us. There was a big knocker on the door, in the shape of
a wolf's face.
"Well, go ahead, knock on the door if you want to be let
inside," the count said. There was only silence. Julie and I stood
stiffly. Finally, lifting a trembling hand, I touched the knocker.
Briefly I caressed it. All the fire that had possessed me earlier had
suddenly fled. I was humbled, humiliated. Secretly I was already
beginning to feel a love for the count. Maybe it was just the hostage
syndrome at work. He was very gallant, I told myself. Extremely
handsome, like Dan. He had a gentleness of spirit that made me think
that his bark might be worse than his bite. But he was a determined
man, I could see that in his eyes. He got what he wanted. He would
fuck me with the fury of a dozen stallions, if he wished to. I lifted
the knocker. A voice screamed inside me to replace it. I let go. A
loud BOOM echoed across the fields. I was undone.
A large ornate entryway greeted us inside. We stepped into a
hushed chamber, a hallway leading away to one side. The building was
heavy, massive, something from another century. Vigorous male statutes
demonstrated their exploits in stone before us. Paintings stared out at
us from the walls. Woven tapestries from the Middle Ages hung mutely.
"Good evening, Burton," the count said, stepping in behind us,
as an old but respectable man in a tux approached from the hall. The
footmen disappeared, not entering through the door with us, returning to
their duties with the horses. I wished to ride a horse, wondered if
they would let me.
"I see you have visitors, sir," Burton said in a congratulatory
voice.
"They have had an exhausting several days, but I did just have
them washed and dressed at Mistress Persephone's."
"I'm glad your mission of mercy was successful," the butler
said respectfully.
"So am I, and the girls too, I'm sure." He turned to us, but
continued addressing the butler. "Have them refresh themselves. No
need to change clothes. Then I shall expect them to join me at
dinner." He wore a top hat, which he tipped to us gracefully. Then he
turned and left, his heels clicking crisply down the hall.
"Can you believe this?" Julie swooned upon reaching our room
and being left to ourselves by the butler. I surveyed the bedroom
chamber. It was indeed awesome. A huge silk-curtained bed stood at one
end, bounded by furs spread carelessly but artfully on either side, on
the floor. A sideboard offered an array of bottled french wines. An
armoire, big as most modern American rooms, stood to receive our
clothing. Various tapestries and works of art decorated the walls.
"Yes, but what is he going to do to us?" I asked.
"I-I don't know," Julie said, suddenly crestfallen. "I'm sorry
I got you into this."
I gazed around again. "They certainly have prepared for us,
haven't they?"
"Yes," Julie agreed, still awestruck. "I feel like a princess,
a queen."
I located the lavatory (not "toilet," mind you, or "bathroom,"
for reasons you shall soon see.) It was connected to our bedroom. I
walked over, went inside. It was breathtaking, fascinating! It was as
big as the bedroom, with a fountain, an enormous marble tub, a
countertop that beckoned a girl to do her makeup there. Twin commodes
stood discreetly in one corner, as if they had been installed just for
us. And there were twin bidets.
"What? I never?" Julie gasped, coming up behind.
"No doubt we'll enjoy taking a shit in here," I remarked, my
spunkiness returning.
"Oh, Kimmy, don't be so crude," Julie scolded me. "Try to at
least live up to the manners of the count." I looked around at her,
taken aback.
"I can see he's bought you off," I said.
"Not bought off," Julie replied, her eyes sparkling. "Not
bought off. But if a man can provide a woman with this kind of comfort,
well, he deserves something in return, don't you think?"
"You sound like you want to marry him."
Julie bent her head floorward. "I-I don't think we're going to
have much choice," she said. "He looks to me like he gets what he asks
for. I find that...alluring."
"Rape?" I asked.
"He won't rape me," Julie said.
***
Dinner proved a formal affair, despite the semi-casual attire
Julie and I wore. Burton was there, as was the count, and another
woman. She was elegantly dressed in eveningwear, her hair pinned up
loosely, wearing a sparkling, flowing dress of red dotted with pearls.
Later I would learn what she wore underneath. The count introduced her
as Yvette and she approached us and gave us each a quick hug. I
squirmed under her embrace, a captive squirrel; Julie tried to be as
glamourous as possible, succeeded.
We were beckoned to the table by the count and took to our
chairs in a cavernous room of carved wood. Giant beams stretched
overhead and ran along the walls. I wondered at their age. They
gleamed in the light of overhead candlelit chandeliers. I looked up,
remembered a cartoon from some forbidden Playboy I'd looked at as a
little girl. With barely a quaver in my voice I boldly remarked,
"I wonder what it would be like to swing from those?"
The count looked up, smiled. "I'm sure we can find out."
***
Serving men brought in our dinner. They did not look at us.
They went to serve the count first, but he waved them on to us.
Curiously, Yvette sat at the head of the table, with me sitting on her
right side, some distance away. Down beyond me sat Julie. Across from
Julie and I, equidistant from us both, sat the count.
Julie took her portion, then I. The serving dish was huge,
with a sumptuous turkey inside, flowing with juices and butter. From me
the tray went to Yvette, and finally to the count. Other selections
followed, along with an appetizer, which the count asked forgiveness for
serving with the meal. He was hungry, he said, and had a long night
ahead of him.
"Of course, dear. I'm sure they understand," Yvette replied.
We ate silently in the hushed greatroom, only the clicks of an
occasional knife or fork being heard. I squirmed a bit, but tried not
to embarrass Julie, though I wished to make a scene. Was that being
mature, or immature, I wondered? I wanted to throw my food at the
count, to run from this place. But would he only laugh, and have his
footmen catch me?
***
Yvette looked up from her meal, casually admired her count's
new friends. "They have such pretty busts, may we not see them?"
Yvette asked the count.
"Yes, indeed. Burton?" The butler rose from his chair. He
walked first to Julie. Gently he put his hands upon her blouse, from
behind. "Forgive me, madam, but the presence of your breasts
is required at dinner." His unctuous British tone belied what was
really happening. He undid her buttons one by one, then lifted out her
glorious bosoms with the greatest of care, as if presenting hothouse
fruit at some champion exhibition. He strode over to me. "Miss?" he
asked, his tone respectful, formal.
"I can unbutton myself," I said, lifting a hand.
"No, no, that wouldn't be proper," he said. Gently he replaced
my hand upon the table. In exasperation I looked at the count.
"Mind your manners, young lady," he commanded, and returned to
his meal.
Yvette leaned toward me. "You will be trained properly here,"
she said in an advisorial tone. She tossed her hair, so elegant. I let
the butler strip me, opening my buttons to my midriff, leaving the rest
closed, presenting my tits almost as if they were objects of art. The
nipples, stiffening at their newfound attention, wiggled naughtily.
Our meal continued, much as before. Julie and I glanced
girlishly at each other, wonderingly, seeing each other's tits as if for
the first time. The count looked up now and then, admiringly. Yvette
caught my eye, smiled sweetly, glanced approvingly at my bosom.
"We must play later," she said.
Julie looked up. "I know many games." Her eyes became
half-lidded, then opened. Yvette smiled at her.
"Yes, we must all play," Yvette said.
"I hope I'm included," the count said.
"Yes, dear, you'll be the guest of honor," Yvette replied.
Julie looked from Yvette to her true object, the count. I
could tell she was in love with him now and yearned to do whatever he
asked, whatever he demanded. She begged to obey, like a dog, I
thought. Yet I had begged to obey with her husband.
The count looked at me. "Drink a bit more wine," he urged.
"You may find later that you need it."
"Yessir," I said, lifting the baroque goblet to my lips. I
sipped, sipped again. The wine was good. I was falling under his
spell. My bottom would pay for it.
Reluctantly I finished my dinner along with the others.
"Dessert shall be served," announced the count. It proved to
be cherry-topped cheese cake. "It is in your honor," the count said to
Julie, then to me. Yvette betrayed a smirk.
"Thank you, it's delicious," Julie replied, the first to try a
forkful. She was totally submissive now. If I was to be wilful I would
be totally alone. A servant presented a recitation of available coffees
with which we might wash down the cheese cake. I chose mocha. Julie
chose cappuccino, and Yvette cafe au lait. The count had espresso.
Julie's coffee gave her a cream mustache. Giggling, she licked it off,
slowly, her eyes meeting the count's.
A table-full of empty desert plates and demitasses soon
littered the table.
"Come, we must play now," Yvette said. We rose, I last. The
count took Julie in one hand, then myself in the other. I could see
that someone was going to insist on taking my hand. I didn't want it to
be Yvette. She strolled ahead, not the least disconsolate, as if proud
to lead.
"All work and no play makes the count a dull boy," he smiled
down at me. Reluctantly I smiled back, then looked away.
As we walked, a protuberance made itself visible in the front
of the count's trousers. This was thanks to Julie, who was noticeably
fawning over him as we strolled along.
"Oh, my!" she exclaimed suddenly, pointing. "You have a lump
in your pants. Is there anything I can do about it?"
"Perhaps there is," the count replied. "But let's wait 'till
we get upstairs."
"Just be sure you have that taken care of," Julie said.
"I will."
We approached a long wooden staircase, which led up to our
rooms, and to the second floor. Yvette wheeled about.
"Oh, sir," Yvette said, addressing the count. "I can hardly
play in this dress, or the girls in theirs. Would you come and remove
it for me?"
"Of course, dear," the count paused in his stride. Swiftly his
hands went to the zippers that topped the backs of our skirts. Before I
could resist Julie and I were being unzipped. "It is but a small matter
to undo the girls, let me do them first." My dress collapsed about my
ankles, as did Julie's. I was left bereft save for my red panties.
"Tch, I should have bought thong panties, I much prefer them, but we can
make do," the count mused, stepping behind me. He slipped a finger into
either side of the back of my panties and drew them inward until they
were firmly in my butt crack. I looked with wide eyes over my trim
shoulder and caught a glimpse of my ass cheeks hanging out. Julie
suffered the same treatment, but did not mind. The count then advanced
to his lady and undid her. I wanted to replace my panties but dared
not.
Yvette's expensive dress dropped suddenly to the floor. She
was clad in purple panties and fishnet stockings, with amazingly high
pumps. She drew a pair of fingerless gloves from the waistband of her
panties. They were purple fishnet. She slipped them on. On the other
side of her panties was a little dogwhip. She drew it out of the
panties' elastic. Most amazingly, perhaps, she wore a demi-bra, which
left her pointed nipples bare, covering only the undersides of her
breasts with purple lace. And I could vaguely make out her bush through
the front of her panties, just as she could now see ours.
Yvette stepped aside, admiring us. "Lovely panties," she said
as the count took both of us in hand and brought us forward to her. We
walked ahead now, up the polished staircase, as Yvette followed. She
swished her dog whip aimlessly. I knew she was relishing the sight of
our jiggling ass cheeks so rudely displayed, jutting out the abbreviated
backs of our undies.
"Here we work hard, and we play hard," the count explained to
us in his smooth, gentlemanly tones. I'm sure you'll find it much
easier to play in earnest without your skirts."
"Of course!" Julie agreed merrily.
"You're much prettier without them too, I might add."
"Thank you, sir," Julie chimed. She was like the perfect
Stepford wife, I thought, but flesh and blood.
The count took us to a room, and led us in.
"Ooooh! A horsey," Julie exclaimed, and ran forward to a
rococo-looking wooden horse. She hugged it round its neck. "I used to
have one of these as a little girl!" she gushed.
"Do you remember how to ride it?" the count asked.
"It's bigger, but I think I can manage. If you'll help me
up."
"Of course." He strode forward, grasped Julie's pantied
bottom, and hoisted her onto the horse.
"Oh! There's a lump here," Julie said, fingering a bulbous nub
which lay just where her cunny should sit.
"Ah yes," the count said, eyeing it. "Just get atop it. It
shouldn't bother you, should it?"
"But what is it for?" Julie asked, wide-eyed.
"I shall have to ask Yvette when she comes in. It's actually
her horse, given to her many birthdays ago."
"Mmm, it's beautiful," Julie said, gracefully stroking the
fringed leather mane.
"Come now, let's see you ride upon it," the count said.
Hesitantly Julie began to rock, holding the carved wooden neck.
"There are leather ties down along the forelegs, two on each
side," Julie remarked.
"A special horse, no doubt."
"Yes, sir." Julie rocked more vigorously, alternately studying
the horse and glowing at the count.
Yvette slipped in, a smile on her face. She waltzed up to
Julie.
"Thank you for letting me ride your horse," Julie said.
"You're quite welcome," Yvette replied. "May I spur you on?"
"If-if you wish," Julie answered.
Yvette brandished her dog whip. It had begun.
CRACK! A light one, leaving a tiny pink dot where it had
struck.
"Ooch!" Julie cried, rocking harder. Her big, shapely bottom
stuck slightly off the back of the horse, a perfect target.
The whip swished forward again, harder this time, biting into
the swell of her alluring white ass, bringing another yelp from her.
"Like pointillist painting, don't you think?" the count
remarked. "Eventually you'll have enough of those dots to turn her
entire bottom pink."
"I prefer a deeper shade of red," Yvette replied.
"Of course, dear. It's your horse."
"Oooh, that nose thing is rubbing right on my spot!" Julie
remarked.
"How delightful," Yvette replied. "No wonder I ride this
horsey so much."
"I shall get quite excited if this keeps up," Julie said.
"These are games for adults," Yvette replied. "You are
married, aren't you?"
"Yes, m'lady."
"Now here's a real stinger, ready?" Yvette let fly the whip.
It unfurled with a crisp bite, just the tip sinking into Julie's rump.
"Yikes! That one felt like a bee sting!" Julie bleated. Tears
brimmed in the corners of her eyes. She shivered her almost-bare
bottom, as if to shake off the sting.
"Its only me, dear, not bees. Here's another."
"Oooch!" Julie bounded up, lifting her bottom, flinging the
welled tears from her eyes. "You're going to make me cry if you keep
that up!"
"Be brave, darling."
"Oooch!" Julie winced, but bore it well. More bitter bites
followed.
"Why must you sting so harshly?" Julie yelped. "I'm riding as
fast as I can."
"You wiggle so under the bites, dear. I cannot help it. The
count especially loves to see how you jump and waggle when the real
stingers hit."
"I'm feeling pain in my bottom and pleasure in my pussy, it's
strange," Julie remarked between winces.
"You will feel many new things here," Yvette said, and gave her
another, which sent her howling.
"You may cry if you wish dear," Yvette said. "I have done so
when I rode for the count."
"Thank you," Julie said, and the next bite sent her into
sniffles.
I watched this spectacle with a hoped-for detached aloofness,
but failed. I truly found it interesting, wondered what it would be
like if I were up there, dancing about, wiggling my pretty bottom for
the count. Would he admire it like he was admiring Julie's? Her tits,
sticking out of her blouse, bobbled their large cones of flesh
ceaselessly. Julie was soon crying, but rode harder, chafing her little
clitty against the big bulbous nub beneath her.
"She would ride better without the panties," Yvette remarked.
"Yes," the count agreed. He strode forward and grasped Julie
and her horse, stopping them instantly. "You will enjoy the horsey more
if I remove your undies. Straighten your legs, that's it." Julie
lofted her bottom high.
"Monsieur! You are taking down my panties!" she cried, then
announced, "Ooh! My bottom hurts!" And stood completely up, if
precariously, erecting her back, and rubbed her ass. The horse shifted
and she had to bend and take hold of it again. Her undies were at her
knees now and Yvette stepped forward with a scissors and snipped the
gusset. Julie plopped down on the horse as the count lofted the
waistband of the ruined panties up over her boobies and her head. He
took the half-unbuttoned blouse with it, ripping open the remaining
buttons to get it over her boobs.
No sooner was Julie naked, save for her booties and earrings,
that Yvette eased her down fully upon the neck of the horse, forcing one
breast out on either side. Before Julie could figure out what "M'lady"
was up to, one of her hands was already swiftly tied down. The ties
along the foreleg held it. Her other hand was just as quickly tied
off. The count, drawing similar ties from his pocket, slipped off her
booties and bound each of Julie's ankles to her stirrups. By now Julie,
jostled about, stripped of her remaining bits of clothing, felt like
someone's battered luggage.
"Oooh, I want to get off!" she whined, struggling.
"Shush, dear, the real fun is about to begin," Yvette scolded.
She retreated to her former position, wheeled about, and let flash forth
a real stinger.
"Owwwch!" Julie cried, and sent the horse flying.
"There we go, rock hard," Yvette announced. The count stepped
to the wall and pushed upon a button. There was a buzzing sound.
Julie's eyes popped wide.
"There's something...something coming up me!" she cried.
"Rub hard upon it, let your natural juices flow to ease its
passage," Yvette encouraged.
"It's going right up my twat!" Julie cried.
"It's greased latex, filled with cream," the count said, coming
forward and speaking into her ear.
"It-It's a penis!" Julie shrieked. Yvette laughed. I couldn't
help suppressing a giggle. Julie deserved what she was getting. The
count saw me and strode over. He got behind me and grasped me firmly,
manfully, by my twitching shoulders. They were small in his hands. He
could crush them easily. Boldly he reached down in front of me and
touched my pussy.
"Does that excite you?" he asked, and found my clitty and
rubbed it. I knew not whether he meant the rubbing or the horse.
"It-It...please," I stammered.
Without stopping her whipping Yvette reached down and yanked
off her purple panties, looping them over one leg, then the other. She
cast them aside and increased the frequency of her strokes.
"Noooo!" Julie was hooting, lifting her face up from the
horse's mane, otherwise bound firmly to it. Stuck to it, rather,
impaled upon its improbably placed penis.
"You-you mustn't," I begged the count, but he had me
trembling. The scent of his maleness flooded my nostrils. He gave my
pussy a good rubbing, then took hold of the waistband of my panties.
"Hold still, girl," he said as I squirmed. With a pout I
watched as he lowered my panties in one smooth motion down my legs.
Obediently, unthinkingly, I stepped out of them. Yvette glanced over at
me.
"We are now all as you are, dear," she called consolingly to
Julie, over her screams. The count began rubbing me even more
vigorously than before. He bent his knees and pressed his bulging loins
to me like some animal. Breathing hard, he put his other hand upon my
nipples, alternately, and pinched and pulled them.
"Ooch! Stop!" I cried, to no avail.
"You're next for the horse," he said.
"No!" I cried in alarm. He stood fully erect, but only to rip
off my blouse. I darted from him as he tore the blouse away. I ran to
the door, found it locked. Yvette had locked it. I looked at her, from
behind, saw no key upon her. The count chased me around the room and
cornered me. Distressingly, sniffling, I watched as he rapidly
disrobed. A giant cock rose erectly to greet me, dripping pre-cum.
"I intend to have you, and I will!" he shouted, and lunged at
me. It was no use. He had me. I twisted in his enclasping, muscular
arms, his biceps and chest bulging against me. We were both wet with
sweat. I could not worm out. He lifted me up and I looked down,
between my legs, at his upstanding cock. He lowered me onto the head,
then grasped me round the stomach to fit it into me with his free hand.
I scratched him and pulled at his hair. I was a cat. He shook his
head, batting my little hands away, groped in the air to try to seize
them. Failing that, he got hold of my upper arms and slid his big hands
down to my wrists. He wrenched them back behind me. My breasts popped
forward, stuck out obscenely.
"Now we're getting somewhere," he said. He strode up to Yvette
and presented me to her, pushed my tits in her face. She laughed and
squeezed each of my nipples. I yelped, begged for mercy, promised to be
good. She let go of me and went back to Julie's bottom.
The count carried me over to the side of the room. He sat down
on a chair and put me on his lap. His thing moved snakelike beneath me,
taunting me, scraping my cunt with its juicy tip.
"Come now, you forced me to behave in a most ungentlemanly
manner," he said soothingly in my ear. "Ah, you are getting my cock
wet."
"I could hardly help it," I said between tears. "With you
rubbing me like that."
"Nonetheless, you are mature enough to have me."
"You're too big. Way too big."
"We shall see." His voice took on a snarling tone. Then, as
if restraining himself, he spoke more gently. "Every time you resist me
you just make me want you more, do you realize that? I want Julie, yes,
but she is so mellow, so compliant. You, little colt, bring out the
monster in me, the monster that lurks in all men. To catch you, hold
you, force myself upon you. And you know what?" I squirmed upon him,
only arousing him more. "It's your bottom I want most, your wriggly
little ass."
"No!" I shrieked loudly, childishly. "You would rend me apart
like a pumpkin," I said, snuffling. "Like a smashed pumpkin."
"Ah, but I would enjoy it very much, little girl."
"You mustn't do it, please promise me," I pleaded. "I-I'll
give you anything."
"You haven't anything to give. I own you completely for a
month. And, frankly, I own you for as long as I want. You'll have to
let your hair grow and eventually lower it down from a tower window, but
no one will come because you'll be an old lady by then."
"No! I don't like you," I pouted, but already he was straining
at my entrance. Knocking. His big cock shifted beneath me and I
noticed I liked the feeling. He drew me close, held me fast, groped my
breasts. I humped myself lightly on his cockhead.
"I will cum if you keep doing that," he said.
"Good," I said. "Then you'll have nothing left for my bottom!"
"Mmm," he said. "As bright as you are beautiful." He engaged
my face and I turned my neck slightly to meet him. We kissed, kissed
again, agreed to explore each other's mouths with our tongues. Later he
said he found mine delicious. It tasted of lollipops, he said.
Julie, meanwhile, was shrieking upon the horse, her bottom
bright red. She bawled like a schoolgirl, begging Yvette between every
haggard breath to stop.
"Not until I draw a droplet of blood," Yvette ensured her, "Now
that we've hit every spot on your heinie."
The count heard her and rose up, taking me in one hand by the
arm, as if I were only a toy. I actually dangled from him as he strode
forward. He grasped Yvette's whip hand and stilled her. "That's enough
for tonight," he said, in a voice that brooked no disobedience. "I
don't want her scarred tonight. I have yet to enjoy her." Yvette gave
a peevish look.
"You like her more than me, don't you?" she asked. She glared
at me. "And her! Especially her. You child molester!" The count
laughed, a full, hearty laugh, with me still dangling haplessly by his
side.
"Leave my castle if you like." the count scoffed, eyeing
Yvette. He lofted me high, like some trophy. "I am Count Lesperance!
No one will challenge me!"
"You're an aging, undefeated heavyweight boxer, lost in his
boyish fantasies!" Yvette growled back at him. She spun on her elegant
heels.
"Where are you going?" the count called angrily after her.
She turned back at him, but only to snatch up her purple
panties. "There are other men, aging soccer stars, aging ex-presidents
who like to be spanked! I still have my beauty, unlike certain old
goats around here!"
"Burton is 72-years-old."
"I wasn't talking about Burton, and you know it." She reached
the door, fished a key from her half-bra and unlocked it. "I was
talking about a certain CHILD MOLESTER!" Yvette stormed out of the
room. Strangely, I saw why he liked her. She had a certain unique fire
within her.
"She is gone," the count said, somewhat dejectedly. Then he
saw my predicament. "Oh! Excuse me, little miss. I didn't mean..."
Gingerly he lowered me down to the floor. He let go of me. I stared at
his massive cock, which seemed to stick right in my face. "You may go
too, if you wish," he told me. "I am tired, so tired."
"You don't look tired," I said, and looked up from his cock.
He gazed down, smiled, tousled my hair.
"Somebody get me off this horse!" Julie shouted. We walked
over to her. Her bottom was burnished a bright red. She lay weakly
upon the horse, impaled upon its wickedly placed member. Quickly I
knelt next to her and undid the ties on her wrists. The count had to
help her sit up. She did so very stiffly. I undid her ankles. The
count grasped her by her spread thighs and lifted her straight up off
the cock. There was a pop. Cream gushed out of her stretched cunt.
The cock was 6-inches-long. Not enough to hurt a girl, but certainly
not something to sit on. It stood straight up, gleaming, cream still
oozing from its slit.
"Don't worry, it's quite flexible," the count said to me.
"Th-that's okay," I said.
"It can extend more deeply if you wish. Six inches is not its
maximum length. It was her first time, so I wanted to go gently on
her. It can pump an unlimited amount of cream..."
"Let's go to bed," I suggested. "You said you were tired."
He grinned. A male grin. "Not-not like that," I said. "Julie and I to
our rooms, you to yours. We'll meet you at breakfast in the morning."
"You're not leaving me?" he asked.
"In the middle of the night?" I said. "Julie and I have been
through too much." I walked over to him, planted a kiss on his
beautiful, hairy chest. I couldn't help enclasping his wonderful cock
with my little fingers. I stroked it gently, nuzzling his chest. Julie
stumbled to a corner, plooped down in her own wetness, which still oozed
profusely from her. Cappuccino. All she needed was the coffee.
I stroked the count's member with my finger tip. All the way
along its massive length. I savored its stiff quiveryness. The big
veins running along it pumped steadily. "How many girls have you poked
this into?" I asked.
"A few."
"A few!"
"All of them survived, I might add."
"As quadriplegics."
"How many men have you let poke you?"
I smirked. "A few." I broke into giggles. He grasped me by
my breasts, lifted them. For a moment I feared he would pick me up by
them.
I reached down, between the hair of his legs. I clasped his
scrotum as best I could. It was drawn up tightly, ready to sperm me. I
squeezed it gently, tenderly.
"Save this for me, will you?" I asked. He gazed down at me.
Unwittingly his mouth fell open. He realized it a moment later and shut
it. He licked saliva from his lower lip.
"Good God, girl. Haven't you ever heard of 'blue balls'?" he
asked me.
"What's that?" I asked, truly innocent. He gulped.
"I-well, men-you see. I haven't had to spend a night waiting
for it since I was 12-years-old!" I circled the rim on the head of his
cock with my fingertip.
"Well, sir, a good girl never does it on the first date," I
informed him. “Didn't you know that?"
"But-" he stammered.
"Now you just go to bed like a good boy and we'll talk about
this in the morning." I whisked myself away from him, albeit with a
deep reluctance in my heart. I walked over to Julie. She sat huddled
in a corner, arms around her drawn-up knees, watching. I urged her to
her feet. She rose awkwardly, stiffly, like an old woman with
arthritis.
"Did you get a good workout on your horsey?" I asked sassily.
"Yes," she groaned, sobbed.
"I want you to ride that every day," I informed her. "Your
bottom is getting fat."
"Ooch!" Julie winced, put a hand to her flaming posterior.
"Don't mention my bottom."
"I'll put some cream on it in the bedroom," I said. "And kiss
it. Then it will get all better." (I mentioned the kissing to enflame
the count's passions.)
"God!" he announced, addressing the ceiling, half-heartedly
stroking his cock. "I knew I should have installed cameras in your
bedroom!" I slapped his hand away from his cock as we passed him.
"You promised," I said.
"God! What a domme!" he groaned after me, watching me as I
left with Julie on my arm. I wiggled my bare butt at him.
"Toodle-ooo," I waved, and blew him a kiss.
"Oh, madam, may I help you?" Burton offered, just outside the
door. Had he been watching us all the time? I didn't know. Helpfully
he guided us down the hall to our bedroom, Julie's other arm gratefully
in his care. The count came from the room and watched our retreat. I
looked back at him, saw him aimlessly stroking himself.
"Quit playing with your penis!" I called warningly. Abruptly
he put his hand down. Looked up, lifted it again, then realized his sin
and batted it away with his other hand, like a fly.
'Men and their penises,' I thought. 'A man is married more to
his penis than he is to any woman.'
30
----------------------- Dreamgirls! -----------------------
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