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From: Andrew Roller <roller39@IDT.NET>
Subject: Chambers of Love part 18 of 18 (NND)
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_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
CHAMBERS OF LOVE
_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
Chapter Eighteen
A chubby-cheeked moon was already overhead when we arrived.
Its plumpness reminded me of my bottom. All around us the sere
landscape was illuminated by its light. There was nothing for miles.
Just cacti, standing bold and prickly, casting long moonlit shadows
across the sand. And the errant tumbleweed, pausing in its never-ending
journey across the Mexican desert. Julie and I stepped from her car and
followed a narrow path up to the brightly lit hacienda.
On the jet back toward home I'd worn an exquisitely sexy
outfit. A black, above-the-knee skirt hugged my hips. A tight little
top, matching the skirt, clung to my breasts and torso. It had no
sleeves, and a very low neckline. A matching hat completed my outfit,
plus heels. Beneath I wore only panties, no bra.
On the plane I sat next to a Spanish gentleman, who took a
great interest in my outfit. I think what intrigued him most was that
the upper halves of my areolas peeped continuously out of my decollete
top. We were in first class, otherwise I would never have worn such a
naughty outfit. The whole trip he kept waiting, with baited breath, for
my nipples to pop out entirely. But they never quite did, although I
almost lost them a few times, when I moved abruptly.
Julie sat across from him, on the other side of the aisle. Not
as provocatively dressed as me, she did, nonetheless, catch his eye.
I wasn't out to attract any man in particular. I just felt
exuberant and wanted to "push the limits" with my attire. Turn a few
married men's heads and annoy their stuffy wives. Helga, though,
intercepted the Spanish gentleman in the kitchen area at the back of
first class. She was intent on arranging something profitable with
him.
"Oh, are you with them?" I heard the gentleman say to her,
before their voices lowered. When we landed and disembarked she
reported happily to us that we'd been invited to a party at the
gentleman's.
"Really, Helga, you must simply get over the idea that our
bodies are for sale," Julie demurred. I agreed.
"Not for sale, darlings, such a nasty way to put it," Helga
countered. "Available, to only the finest gentlemen, in the plushest of
surroundings. Really, I cannot see how you can refuse. He's agreed to
pay our way through to Mexico, and put us up in a fine hotel that will
be entirely of our choosing. And he’s given us a week's spending
money. All for your attendance for one night at a party at his
hacienda. He was most impressed with your beauty."
"I'll say!" Julie gasped, adding up all the “charges” in her
head. I could see that already she was softening to the idea.
"It might be fun," Helga offered with a knowing smile.
"Wealthy, hot-blooded Spanish gentry," I said, turning over
each word with my tongue, finding myself wanting to suck upon them.
"Helga, I wish you wouldn't go out of your way to meet men for
us!" Julie said, turning to her abruptly. She was flushed, flustered.
She was caving in.
And so it was with a delicate knock that Julie and I made known
our presence at the hacienda. Helga was not with us. The arrangement
had been made for only Julie and I.
A chill desert breeze pricked at our skin. We waited. A
coyote howled in the distance. Then, opening the door slowly, a
stooped-over, elderly Mexican woman let us in. She regarded us. Then
she beckoned us forward to a room where men were laughing. Opening the
door to the room she urged us inside. We stepped in.
Half a dozen men smiled as they saw us, welcomed us with eager
gentility. They occupied a large room with sumptuous divans and
ottomans, complete with a wet bar. A young Spanish girl in an
abbreviated maid's costume stood at the bar, dutifully mixing drinks,
her head bowed submissively. Heavy drapes, richly embroidered, were
drawn shut against the desert night, against the bright high-flying
moon.
Fresh drinks were passed to us from the bar and we graciously
accepted them from the nearest men. Our suitor on the airplane
introduced us, by our first names only. Julie and I were all dolled up
in clinging, low cut gowns that shimmered with our every movement.
After we'd met each of the men our host, named Alex, asked us if we were
ready to party. We said we were. With polished grace Julie turned and
unzipped my dress in back. I wiggled and it glimmered its way down my
body, pooling around my ankles on the plush carpet. I stepped out of
the $2,000 gown as if from discarded Jockey shorts. Then I turned and
did Julie. A moment later we stood before the men, and they were most
delighted with our party clothes.
I wore a pink corset. The edges were trimmed with ribbon and
little pink bows. It was laced in front, very tightly. Cupping my
breasts, it just covered my nipples, leaving the tops of my areolas
enchantingly visible. The constricting corset descended to just above
the wisps of my pubis, which it left uncovered. It was shorter behind
and left my bottom completely free. Cinched so tightly about my waist,
the corset actually made my bare bottom stick out like some overripe
pumpkin. Alex expressed an interest in the effect and I turned about to
let him see.
"Ah, that is why I love seeing women in difficult clothing," he
said admiringly. "You girls would never wear such outfits if it weren't
for us men wanting them, would you?"
"Not likely," Julie said. Her voice came breathily. She was
cinched as tight as a drum. Her corset could not quite contain her
womanly bosoms. The upper halves of her areolas along with her pointed
nipples overflowed the top, where tightly drawn cups of thin lace had
been forced to give way to them.
Garters clung snugly to a pair of long semi-sheer stockings
that sheathed my legs, right down to my booties with their decorative
buckles. My stockings were pink, the booties white patent leather.
Julie was similarly attired, in colors of violet and blue.
"Sir," Julie said expectantly. "As you can see we have no
panties. You promised you'd give us something upon our arrival?"
"Ah, yes!" Alex replied. He presented us each with a
color-coordinated G-string. Daintily I stepped into mine, as did Julie
with hers. I pulled it up around my hips and looked down at it.
Rope-like it dropped in front over my mound, utterly failing to cover
it. Threading through the lips of my cunt it ascended through the
clenching of my bottom crack to rejoin my string-wide waistband in
back. There was nothing more. Yet I found that I could spread it open
slightly with my finger tips where it crossed through my cunt, forming a
little gusset of sorts that just barely enclasped my labia lips within
it.
"Yes, that will form your diaper," Alex told me.
"My-my diaper?!" I asked, shocked. Julie had just covered her
own cunt with the makeshift gusset and looked up in alarm as well.
"Did you not know?" Alex asked us. "We have only one bathroom,
right over there, and it is unfortunately a men's room. You girls will
have to wear diapers...little adult diapers that suit your attire." He
glanced meaningfully at our G-strings. "However, there is the matter of
your bowels. Adult diapers like you are wearing now cannot hold back a
bowel movement. Therefore each of you will be fitted with a butt-plug
prior to partying with us men this evening. Did you know that having
something inside your rectum while you are being fucked in the pussy
adds immeasurably to your pleasure, and that of your lover? A sidelight
I thought I'd mention." He produced two well-greased butt plugs, thin
but rather longish. "Kindly bend over and pull down your G-strings in
back, girls. I must get these up you before we can begin partying in
earnest."
With very great reluctance Julie and I drew down our G-strings
in back, hooking them under the cheeks of our bottoms. Then the men led
us to the nearest settee, of bright red and yellow fabric, and pushed us
over its back, so that we were standing on our tiptoes. Gasping within
the confines of my corset, my elbows found the seat cushions in the
front of the sofa and gratefully rested upon them. My hair fell about
my face. Julie's head plopped down beside mine.
My legs were roughly separated, into a bold vee. I turned my
toes inward, desperately trying to keep them in contact with the floor.
Julie's legs were opened next. Speaking gentle words to us, Alex had
men forcefully spread our bottoms. I felt the cool air of the room
touch my anus. Beneath me I noticed that my nipples had popped out of
my corset. I was like Julie now. Nothing remained hidden, save my
lately covered labia...in my diaper.
A cold film was applied around the ring of my anus. It grew
warm as the finger applying it circled, lovingly. Then the tip of a
tube was gently inserted within me there and a long ejaculation of creme
shot up my ass. I mewled in protest at the unwanted anointing. My
bowels did not wish to be baptized. The tip went to Julie next, she
shared in my plight.
I felt the intruder then. Snub nosed, of india rubber, probing
expectantly against the tightness of my anal ring.
"Oooch!" I said suddenly, and my cherry was popped, my ring
opened anew. Julie cried out as her own bottom was breached.
We were told to pull up our panties then...our diapers.
Reaching back, still over the couch, I yanked up my G-string. Julie was
equally happy to get hers up. I stood with difficulty, the men helping
me. Bow-leggedly I regarded the new sensation in my innards. My guts
were well plugged, my anus distended, bottom cheeks moulded about their
intrusive new friend. Julie stood gaping, looking from one man to the
next. We were given fresh drinks and told to swallow all.
"Bottoms up, girls," Alex said of our glasses. "I'm having the
liquor content cut back so you can enjoy yourselves without getting
sleepy. Please drink as much as you can! And now I think a relaxing
game of shuffleboard would be in order after our strenuous
preliminaries. Gentlemen, ladies?"
A curtain was drawn back, revealing a narrow space with a
shuffleboard painted on a polished wooden floor. Julie and I were
invited to go first, competing against one another. The winner would
play against a male guest, we were told. The loser would have her fanny
smacked.
Spraddle-legged and huffing in our corsets, Julie and I played
shuffleboard. Julie lost, and was promptly put over Alex's knee and
given a dozen "well deserved" slaps on her rump. It was blushingly red
when he finally let her stand up. She rubbed it briskly.
I soon lost to a male guest and he gave me a spanking just as
Julie had suffered. Red-bottomed, we were now ordered to play
hopscotch. A slab of cement was revealed behind another curtained wall,
complete with a stone and chalk. Bending down, nearly crushing our
tummies in our corsets, we were forced to draw out a hopscotch pattern
on the cold slab. Our bosoms burst completely from the confines of our
corsets as we worked. They jiggled merrily, oblivious to our torment,
happy to be free.
We played out two rounds of hopscotch, and were spanked
afterward for our errors. Then more drinks were served and we were
urged to indulge ourselves on snacks which the Spanish girl brought
around on a silver tray. "Keep your energy up, you know," Alex reminded
us. We stood munching on cheese-laden celery sticks and bits of
toothpick-speared beef as the men chatted amiably around us. This was
definitely not a party I'd seen the likes of before.
Alex reached out and touched a finger between my legs, which
I'd been bidden to always keep at least a foot apart. I felt a tingle
of pleasure as he rubbed my gusset-covered cunny. "Still dry, I see,"
he observed. Simultaneously he felt Julie. Then he ordered more drinks
for us and waited while we swallowed down every drop.
"Good girl," the Spanish lass said to me when I was done,
patting my bottom. She took my glass. Then she complimented Julie in
the same way and took her empty glass also. She sashayed back to the
bar, her bottom peeping out from under a very short leather skirt.
"You'll get to know her better later," Alex assured us. "Her
name is Ophelia. She's very loyal. My best maid."
The party progressed next through a series of card games,
played around a low coffee table. Julie and I were allowed to sit on a
sofa like the other guests, but we were made to keep our knees wide
apart. Occasionally Alex reached over and felt our gussets. Slowly a
need to pee began building within me and I found it harder and harder to
keep my legs spread. Alex told me he'd introduce my ass to the riding
crop if I put my legs together.
More and more, as the card game idled along, this time being a
long version of bridge, I burned to pee. Julie dropped her hand at one
point and pleaded to go to the bathroom. She was denied. I put a hand
to my pussy and squeezed it. No relief. Julie did the same. Within
minutes we were sitting there, before half a dozen strange men, with our
thighs compressed tightly together and our fingers mashing our cunts.
Our eyes bulged, our cheeks were puffed. We squirmed like toddlers.
"Tsk! Tsk! Such an expensive couch you girls are sitting on,
you know," Alex observed. "I hope I've given you big enough diapers.
That's Ophelia's favorite couch and she'd be quite upset if you emptied
your bladders on it." Julie and I grimaced. I squeezed my eyes shut,
opened them.
With a sudden realization I noticed my g-string was no longer
dry. The spot on the couch where my fanny rested wasn't dry either. In
shock I looked down and found myself peeing! My body had taken over,
taken its own course. I tried to stop the flow but it came out lustily,
a full bladder behind it, urging it on through my peehole. Julie gasped
and looked down at herself. Spurred by my example, her body had
followed my lead. Squishing our pussies with our fingertips we tried to
hold back the flow, failed. We gazed at Alex's stern demeanor with
bleak eyes.
Alex ordered the men to remove all of their clothing. He told
us to "sit tight." I watched in wonder as the group of dark, handsome
men stripped themselves to their skin. They sat around us with their
cocks and balls casually displayed. They complimented one another on
their attributes.
Ophelia entered the room. Her maid's costume was gone and she
was utterly nude. Her only adornment was a riding crop, which she held
lightly in her hand, between her lovely young breasts. It pointed
stiffly up at her face and she toyed with its loop with her tongue.
"Sir," she lisped over the leather tip of the crop to Alex.
"I'm ready for my punishment." With small, almost tentative steps, yet
exuding a kind of erotic confidence, she advanced with her wicked toy
into the midst of the men. She was young, frail, a twig of a girl, yet
with superb bosoms. Except for her lightly olive-colored skin she
reminded me very much of myself. I who sat wet, shuddering, and
frightened upon the couch, vainly trying to cover myself with my hands.
The men sat admiring Ophelia for a bit as she stood meekly
before them, holding the instrument of her bottom's impending demise. I
admired her cheeks from behind. They were white, flawless, two shades
lighter than the rest of her, and completely unmarked.
They clenched together, then eased, then squeezed themselves together
again, sweet round moons glowing softly. The men stood. They formed a
semi-circle about her of honed, hairy, in-the-buff brawn. Yet they
still merely regarded her, perhaps unsure of who was entitled to her
first.
Olivia did not look at the men's faces but rather surveyed the
thicket of penises which surrounded her. She seemed to examine each one
with her gaze, evaluate it, judge it? Was she prey or predator? The
men converged more closely upon her. Stiffly they presented their
cocks, their manhood, many idly thrusting them at her. Olivia placed a
finger lightly upon the head of one, stilling it. She lifted her eyes
to the man's face, silently seemed to say, "Settle down, boy, we have
all night ahead of us."
"Please introduce your lovely pussy to each man's cock," Alex
told his maid. Smilingly Ophelia presented her slim hips to the closest
man, who grasped them hungrily. He lofted her up until she was on her
tip-toes, then settled her tight lips onto the bulging head of his
organ. Ophelia gasped as it slipped within her. Yet the man was
limited, Alex said, to giving her the head only. Fortunately no one had
greased up yet, so there was plenty of natural friction present to slow
the entry. The man gripped Ophelia, holding her up, even as she went
slack, pretended to swoon. She dangled her hands behind her, as if to
more easily slide earthward, right down his big shaft. She wiggled
playfully upon the impaling head. With a groan of displeasure the man
was forced to lift her off himself before she should make him violate
the rules. Ophelia went to the next man and did a similar dance upon
the head of his prong. Gradually she was passed from man to man until
each had enjoyed a taste of her pussy, and she of his deliciously
intrusive penis. Even Alex limited himself to just a teasing probe.
Her eyes and his seemed to share a special thought as she entertained
his organ. But no words were spoken, save a soft flutter of moans from
her and a grunt from him as he tasted her tightness.
Alex ordered Julie and I to masturbate ourselves as we watched
all this, and we did so, obediently stroking our lips and clittys with a
finger. We pulled our panties down to the tops of our thighs to give
ourselves free access. By the time Ophelia had mounted her final steed
we were in a fluster of impending orgasm.
Alex looked at us. Our titties ballooned naked above the
shattered tops of our corsets. Our faces were flushed. Our panties
were prettily lowered, cunts sweetly moist. Still our legs were
sheathed in the finest silk, and our feet shod with new booties. Their
decorative buckles gleamed. Uncomfortably we shifted upon the plugs
which speared our bottoms.
Ophelia turned to us then, said we must accompany her to the
woodshed. Conscious of the men's admiring gaze, we rose as gracefully
as possible. Julie seemed more ladylike than ever, poised and sleek.
She walked before me as we filed out of the room, the men taking up
position at our rear, following us. Ophelia led the way.
We stepped through a door and out into the stillness of the
night. I heard cows lowing in the distance. A tumbleweed lazily rolled
by, as if to gawk. We stepped upon flat, shattered flagstones,
following them in a path to a weatherbeaten stable. It was small, built
for one purpose only.
Julie and I stepped inside, big-bottomed in our clenching
corsets, following behind the lithe, light-hearted Ophelia, free in her
nudity. I spotted a brazier. Its coals glowed brightly. "We brand the
cattle here," Ophelia said easily, by way of explanation. As if I
wanted one.
The men entered and closed the door behind us. It was
crowded. I wanted room. There was a space available, where a post
stood, festooned with iron manacles. Fresh hay upon the wooden floor
there. And before the post a sturdy, leather-topped trestle, waiting
perhaps for someone to be draped over it.
Julie, ever the sweet young mare in times of crisis, stepped up
to the brazier. An iron rod lay within it. With polished grace she
slipped on an oven mitt, which hung from the brazier, then lifted the
hot iron.
"It has your mark upon it, Alex," Julie said softly. The tip
of the iron, a little circular brand, glowed luminously. Julie blew
gently upon it, as if to cool it.
"What do you think of it?" Alex asked.
"It is lovely," Julie said of the brand. "I'm sure your cows
are very proud to have it upon them." She lifted her eyes to his. They
were radiant. Yet tears had formed in the corners. "Where-where do you
place the brand?"
"The females receive it right upon the bottom," Alex said.
Julie considered the brand once more, then quietly replaced it in the
brazier.
"It must be very hot to do its job," she said. She buried the
tip within the blazing coals.
Lightly Ophelia took Julie by the elbow, turned her to face the
post. Julie shook off her hand. With quiet grace she advanced to the
trestle, clad in her booties, her steps still awkward because of the
butt plug, yet managing to roll her hips seductively. She smoothed her
fingertips across the leather-covered top of the trestle. Ophelia
stepped up to her, grasped her by the soft brown locks of her hair. She
bent Julie down over the trestle. The glorious moon of Julie's bottom
rose as her face was forced toward the floor. Julie's arms were lifted
above the back of her head and, sticking out straight in front of her,
were shackled to the post. Ophelia gagged her with a strip of soft
leather, forcing it between her teeth as a kind of bit.
With a skip in her step Ophelia went behind Julie then, and
bent and spread her ankles. Julie seemed recalcitrant and Ophelia gave
her a light slap on her bottom with her hand. Then the legs were drawn
suitably wide, and clamped into irons. Ophelia stood up and admired her
handiwork, taking up her riding crop where she'd put it aside and
impatiently slapping her flank with it. She tossed her head. Her dark
hair moved freely, casually.
Alex held me tightly. My panties, never recovered, hung
tightly round the tops of my thighs. Julie's panties too remained where
she'd slipped them in order to masturbate. They hugged her just beneath
the underside of her bottom. I'd heard a tearing sound when her legs
were pulled apart and realized now it had been her g-string. Filaments
of ripped fiber glimmered here and there along the string. It would not
fit her anymore, was just an ornament now, a decoration.
Because she had peed she must be washed first, Alex said. He
rubbed me idly upon my clitty as he said this, as if to keep me ready
for my turn. Ophelia, able-bodied as a farm girl, filled a bucket from
a spigot and hoisted it, carried it over to Julie's bottom. With a
sponge Ophelia bathed the glorious haunches in ice cold water. Julie
flinched and moaned beneath her gag. When the laving was complete
Ophelia put the bucket aside. She kissed each wetly gleaming cheek
then, lightly, careful to leave no lipstick mark.
Alex chilled me to my core a moment later, saying, "You shall
do the honors, Kimmy." Roughly he guided me forward to the brazier,
fitted my right hand with the mitt, made me pick up the awful brand. He
presented me with the spectacle of Julie's helpless, darling young
wife's bottom. Ophelia had moved to Julie's head and stood stroking her
hair and consoling her.
"Poor baby," Ophelia said. "You will jump and dance in a
display that will haunt your imagination long after we have forgotten
it. Or, rather, your bottom will, all eyes riveted upon it. Didn't
your mommie teach you to keep your panties on? To keep your tushy
properly covered? Tsk! Tsk! Girls today in their thong bikinis just
don't know what they're asking for, do they? And you, you have even
taken off your G-string, naughty girl. How brazen you are, showing off
your hiney as if it were some work of art. It is nothing but what you
poop out of with. Do you think perhaps that you are just going to poop
wherever you please, like you do with your pee?" Ophelia's tone belied
her words, for she spoke gently, sympathetically, caressing Julie's trim
shoulders and glossy hair. Julie clenched and tensed her bottomcheeks,
dreading her impending fate...at my hands!
"This is what is called a light branding," Alex said, making me
weigh and balance the long iron rod in my mitted hand. "A brand must be
held against the flesh for a full ten seconds to leave a permanent
mark. You, I trust, will not do this. Simply touch the brand to
Julie's bottom for a second or so, as if to give her a sunburn there.
You will leave a mark but, like a sunburn, it will fade in a few days at
most. Stick her repeatedly with the brand, everywhere on her bottom.
We find this more fun than a single, searing, permanent moment of ten
seconds. Give it to her again and again, until her entire rump proudly
bears the mark of my ranch." Finally he warned me that, although I must
go next, if I failed to follow his instructions properly I would not
only suffer Julie's fate but have my hiney permanently marred.
Helpfully he pointed out that the flange of Julie's implanted butt-plug
spread out over her anus, covering and protecting it. However he told
me to watch out for the peeping lips of her pussy. Those were to be
avoided. Hopefully in her bucking and rearing Julie would not cause me
to hit them accidentally.
Nervous as a lamb at the slaughterhouse I was positioned before
Julie's widely-spread, bulging hiney. At Alex's insistence I suddenly
shot my wrist forth, sinking the burning brand into Julie's soft ass.
"YEEEOWPH!" Julie screamed beneath her gag as I just as
suddenly yanked the brand back. Sternly Alex admonished me of my
punishment if I failed to carry out his orders. I burst into tears and
stuck Julie again with the brand. She leapt upon the trestle, straining
the manacles. I planted the brand briefly again, then again, all the
while Ophelia happily cooing and consoling Julie. I don't think Julie
was even aware of her presence anymore, so hotly did the blazing brand
draw her focus to the plight of her bottom.
I speared Julie seemingly without mercy then, weeping openly
all the while, calling out apologies to her even as I tortured her.
Soon Julie's fanny sported the red marks of the ranch all over it. At
last I was ordered to stop. Ophelia left her post at Julie's head then
and went and got the bucket. She lifted it up and tossed its icy water
upon Julie's bottom. There was a big splash and Julie cried out at the
coldness, even as her bottom steamed with relief.
Julie was let up then, caressed, taken to a bench and made to
sit, though she protested loudly as they pressed her emblazoned fanny
down upon the wood. They gave her liquor and caressed her hair from her
eyes and praised her as one does a woman who has just been in labor.
Slowly Julie regained her senses and eventually was thanking them for
their many compliments.
Three of the men and Ophelia, meanwhile, as we waited for Julie
to recover, found a can of Redi-whip in a small fridge. Ophelia was
soon the worse for it, her pussy dutifully squirted, then her nipples,
and a line of the white stuff run up between the cheeks of her fanny.
She managed to do the men next though, grabbing the can from them and
making them stand still whilst she completely coated their straining,
naked cocks. Then she did their hairy balls, so tightly hung beneath,
ready to spurt yet being spurted on instead. Then she turned them about
and gave each of their anuses a white cap of foam.
I don't think I've ever been in a room that was headier with
the scent of lust. No one had been offered the relief of an orgasm.
Alex's latest injunction was that no one may come, and that the men must
not touch us girls. We were all, including myself, randy beyond belief.
We squirmed and presented our loins to one another even as we endeavored
to remain obedient to Alex. Men brandished their penises at me as I, in
turn, kept my hips well-thrust forward, offering my snatch to any who
would dare touch it, but none did. In their desperation some men began
stroking each other. This did not seem to violate Alex's rules of
engagement, though he wished for them to nonetheless retain their sperm
within their jostling testicles. Everywhere I looked I saw the very
flower of manhood presented boldly to my eyes, stripped naked and rudely
stiff and pulsing. No man was left who was not dripping copious amounts
of pre-cum. I could smell the saltiness of it and the musk of the men's
sweaty bodies, packed tightly in that small wooden shed. That stable
that served only as a stable for the purpose of branding.
Dizzily I was taken then to the trestle. Julie helped Ophelia
bind me down, telling me softly that it would not hurt too much (though
she was most assuredly lying), and that I would be proud of myself
afterward. Ophelia then re-filled the bucket. Between the inrolling
cheeks of my bottom she started my washing, squirting the icy water
between my shiveringly contorting cheeks. Then the sponge was passed
all over my bottom, and even underneath (making me jerk), over my labia.
Brandishing the hot iron, Julie set at me then. She wept
lightly. I reared like an unbroken colt at the rodeo. The brand seared
my flesh, burning it, I threshed my head to and fro, tossing my hair
like a banshee. I screamed into my gag. I made a fine display with my
bottom, the men said later, wiggling it so deliciously that two of them
came.
Afterward I sat resting, bottom wet from its final dousing, as
I in turn was showered with praise. I asked for some whipped cream and
Ophelia squirted some on my tongue. I licked my lips, giving myself a
white moustache on my upper lip. Ophelia bent and licked it off.
Mischievously then she squirted each of my titties, right on their
budded areolas. Then she ardently licked them clean, sending shock
waves of erotic delight through my exhausted frame. I begged her to
stop but of course she didn't. The men clapped, penises waving.
Alex said then that it was time to proceed to the "mattress
room." With churning balls the men escorted we three females out of the
stable and back across the sand, under the moon that was in the western
sky now, still shining brightly. We passed through the party room and
out into a hall, where we met the old woman. She watched us as we
walked by, all naked and plugged and semi-bedraggled. Female animals
now, perhaps, no longer female women. Being escorted to a special
"rutting room," as one man called it.
Near the end of the hall a door. Helpfully a man turned the
handle, let us in. My eyes opened upon a chamber whose floor was
covered with mattresses. It held nothing else. No furniture, no
pictures, just heavy drapes drawn shut over the windows. Light
permeated through the corners of the ceiling, softly bathing the room
from hidden fixtures, giving it a kind of romantic gloom. In one corner
I spied some KY jelly, that was all.
The door closed. Julie and I stood with some difficulty in our
stiletto booties upon the pliant mattresses. Alex ordered us to strip
naked, to remove everything but our butt-plugs. We did so, untying our
corsets, thankfully removing them, as the men lay down and lounged about
us, stroking their cocks. Ophelia was already down amongst them and she
squealingly received probing digits up her cunny, in her ass, in her
mouth. Grasping two of the nearest cocks she held them at bay, though
she could not stop the luring fingers that worked themselves within her.
Julie finished undressing first. She gave a fine toss of her
head, then knelt down before the nearest man. She cupped his bloated
balls in her palms and eased her open mouth over the head of his penis.
Gracefully she began sucking him, bobbing her head prettily as she
lofted her bottom high behind her. Elegant, the well-trained newlywed
wife, she opened her legs without being told and presented the peeping
fig of her cunny to whomever might wish to be charmed by it.
In fact it was I who crouched down then behind her, not knowing
what else to do, fearing the men. I kissed her bottom apologetically
and lightly flicked her cunny with my fingertip. Julie rolled her
bottom and presented it more boldly, all the while dutifully servicing
her chosen male.
Alex came up behind me. Unprotestingly I let him draw my knees
out from under my chest. Twisting my head about I watched as he raised
my hips with his hands. "Put your cheek to the mattress," he said
softly, gently. Yet I could tell he was restraining himself with the
utmost difficulty. Beneath his smooth exterior a raging animal howled,
begging for release. He watched as I looked down at his cock. My eyes
showed approval. I pressed my face down so that it came into contact
with the mattress. I snuggled my cheek against it. My face took on a
look of pure obedience. I extended my tongue. There was a bead of
saliva on the tip. The count had mentioned tongue extenders once, clips
that kept the tongue protruding from the mouth. I pretended I wore one
now.
A rustling behind me. Alex took up his position. With a quick
backward glance I saw his face had assumed a look of utter seriousness.
Men always get deathly serious right at this moment. It is no longer
the pleasure of it that they seek, but the actual planting of their
seed. Nature has them in its grip and requires of them that they
deliver themselves up. And they are eager to. This is what they were
made for. I felt his nubbing cockhead probe within the lips of my
cunny. I balled my bottom back more, twisting it upward, to give him
purchase. Julie's bottom still arched high and untouched beside me.
A jolt within me, up! I grimaced. The butt plug made my
vaginal passage tighter. Another thrust. Aghhh, sooo tight. Was it me
speaking, or him? The pressure of being plugged in both ends at once
was intense. Yet the one in my vagina was moving! I screeched and
gasped and found intensely pleasurable waves rippling all through my
body. I churned my hips and pressed them back, begging to absorb yet
more of Alex's hard dick. Manfully he accommodated me. I was pushed to
the brink and beyond, then again, he rodding me furiously now. Copious
wads of sperm coursed into me at last, flooding my uterus with his
precious burden.
Immediately he turned to Julie, exercising his privilege as
host to fuck each of us first. He bade me rise and help him regain his
strength. Julie's fig waited, alluring and open, as with aching cunt
and plugged bottom I went to work on Alex's cock. Quickly I was able to
stroke it back to full erection. He gave me KY jelly and I smeared his
manhood thoroughly. Then he rose, stallion-like, upon his knees, cock
pointing. He thrust it up Julie then, her moan caused the man in her
mouth to begin spending.
Ophelia reached out and touched my shoulder then, smilingly
eased me down onto my back to play with her and her suitors. We dallied
the night away, alternately being fucked by each of the men in turn. I
did not know what my future held but, somehow, I could not picture
myself whiling away the next three years in high school.
Still flush with a lingering excitement Julie and I left the
hacienda the next morning. Out of necessity Julie wore only her
discarded dress, with nothing on underneath. I had managed to fit
myself into a pair of Ophelia's panties, and wore the dress over them.
With an easy confidence I surveyed the arid landscape. My mother had
arrived home yesterday. Had she listed me as "missing" by now? I
didn't care. Helga had paged us. There was a chance to do some
sightseeing in Buenos Aires. It seemed a certain wealthy gentleman down
there desired some female companionship. Now, should I read about
Argentina in a school book or go there myself? I decided to experience
it firsthand...with my pussy.
THE END
----------------------- Dreamgirls! -----------------------
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