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From: Andrew Roller <roller39@IDT.NET>
Subject: Love Child part 7 of 15 (NND)
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_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
LOVE CHILD
_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
Chapter Seven
Our new master wasted no time in subjecting us to his will. We
found ourselves a few days later on a large country estate, our clothes
gone, with only our makeup to protect us from whatever he might desire
to do to us. He told us he would be unflinching in his discipline. We
would not be injured, not permanently anyway, he promised, but anything
else was fair game. He told us it was expensive to break in girls like
us, especially as young as we were, hiring the proper help, that would
attend to us yet not breathe a word afterward. We listened attentively,
as we knew we must, and nodded meekly.
He gave us short, hooded robes to wear, fringed with fur. They
were too short to cover our bottoms. They settled like bibs on the
upper curves of our cheeks, leaving us totally bare beneath. In front
the robes were too small to be drawn over our breasts. A little chain
was provided, in two pieces, which we drew across our boobs and fastened
in the middle. This kept the halves of our robe as closed as the
garment would allow. Our breasts, squeezed together, offered their
nipples to whomever might look, the gold chain crossing right over the
cherry tips, indenting them. For days our little costumes excited us so
much that we went about with perpetually erect nipples.
On our feet we wore little moccasin booties, trimmed with white
fur, like our cloaks. We also had fur trimmed gloves. Sometimes we
wore the gloves, sometimes not, just as we sometimes had our hoods up or
down, depending on our master's whim. We also wore dog collars about
our necks, locked securely, as symbols of our submission.
Master brought male guests to the house, and we served them
tea, after first collecting firewood outdoors and building a fire for
them in the fireplace. We were complimented on our beauty, especially
our bottoms, which the men said were the fairest they had ever seen.
They were snow white, untouched by the whip since our arrival, for
master was letting us settle in first to our new surroundings.
Shamelessly we flaunted our pretty derrieres as we stooped to serve
them, and knelt on the bearskin in front of the fire to attend to it.
The men spoke languidly of the pleasures of anal sex, though Melissa and
I were under strict orders from Master never to speak. One of them took
out a riding crop and passed it around, saying that it was of an
exceptional make and quality. "Fit for a queen's bottom," he said.
Melissa and I wriggled apprehensively, our bottoms tightening. Master
had gone very easy on us so far, letting us flounce about, bathing us
each night and watching us put on our makeup each morning, but otherwise
forbearing from doing anything to us. Servants, dressed formally,
served us banquets at mealtime and spoiled us with desserts and
candies. We played croquet in the yard. We rode ponies, mounted on
velvet saddles. Blissfully we rode them, legs apart, dangling. There
were no stirrups. Our pussy lips spread sweetly upon the velvet and we
rode until we gasped on the brink of orgasm. It didn't take long. Then
master made us get off the ponies. Shivering with need, he would take
us back inside the house, handcuff us in a corner, and sit and sip wine,
admiring our squirming asses. At night we slept with our hands cuffed
to the headboard so we could not masturbate.
Our desire would ebb and flow, yet never be allowed to release
itself. As much as we teased master he teased us, tying us up and
tickling our cunnies with feathers sometimes, our legs fixed wide by
spreader bars. When the men arrived we gazed at them from an upstairs
window, anxious but with desire welling painfully within us, wondering
if they would lance us with their cocks.
Melissa settled herself on the arm of an overstuffed chair.
She looked at the man sitting in it and heedlessly began humping the
chair arm with her young pussy. He gazed at her, amused.
"Melissa! Bad girl!" Master warned. She stopped.
"Why should I obey you?" she asked, hands planted firmly on the
chair arm behind her ass. She shifted her hips forward and back again,
giving herself pleasure. "You never whip me or anything," Melissa
taunted. I wanted to tell her to shush, that we'd get our fannies
warmed soon enough as it was.
"Didn't I tell you not to speak?" Master asked, rising.
Melissa looked down, perhaps secretly admiring her breasts, which had
grown since our arrival. Her furry jacket was smaller than ever.
Tailor made, it could barely contain her tits now. Absently I put my
hands to my bottom, knowing what must come next, probably for both of
us. I stood staring, waiting, in the middle of the room, as master went
over to Melissa and took her by the ear.
"Ow!" she whined, as he made her stand. He hadn't hurt her,
pulling on her ear. She was just being fussy. A spoiled little brat.
Hands still on my bottom, I thrust out my hips. I felt aroused by what
I knew was about to happen to us.
Master made Melissa and I hold hands. She looked at me. I
felt a twinge of regret that our cosseted days were over, and glared at
her. In response she stuck out her tongue at me. Miffed, I stuck my
tongue out at her.
"March, girls!" Master ordered, taking up his friend's riding
crop. "Lift your knees high, up to your chests, and march out back to
the woodshed. You've been coddled long enough!"
With brisk, high stepping feet we did as we were told, giving
the awkward style of walk our best effort. Master trailed behind us,
slapping the crop in his palm, admiring our jiggling heinies. A servant
opened the front door for us and we marched out, down the steps, and
across a path of broken flagstones. All the while the bibbed tails of
our robes flapped atop the shelves of our cruppers. Our tits jostled
nicely within our robes. Our nipples were unbearably rigid, sharp
little points eager to express milk, if only we had some.
A servant waited by the woodshed door to let us in. We
entered, smelling freshly cut hay, newly polished leather. Master and
the men entered behind us. Dutifully we stood in the center of what was
a fairly large room, facing the far wall. At master's command we hiked
up the backs of our robes, showing our dimpled bottoms fully.
"God! What asses!" A man said.
"The one on the right has a cherry ass," master said. Melissa
gave her heinie a little seductive waggle. Not to be outdone, I
acknowledged the men with a wriggle of my own. I loved being the center
of attention, and she did too. All eyes were on us. The men could
think of nothing else. Wives, girlfriends, all were forgotten as they
gazed admiringly at our tushies. Now if we could only endure whatever
it was they intended to do to us.
Master ordered us against the far wall. It was made of
rough-hewn boards, standing upright. Light shone through the cracks
between the boards, as if to wreathe us in heavenly luminescence. We
were each made to straddle a bucket. They were empty. I wondered why
they were there. Master told us to unfasten our cloaks and lay them
aside.
I felt a moment of temporary freedom as I broke my pose over
the bucket, undoing the gold chain that held my cloak close about me.
Relishing my nudity I stepped over to a bale of hay and draped my cloak
upon it. Then, with a bold glance at master and the men, I returned to
my position over the bucket, as did Melissa. We were young women now,
unafraid of our sexuality or its effect on men. I tossed my head,
shrugged my shoulders. I was ready for whatever might befall me.
"You will both bear children easily," master promised us,
coming up behind. He told us to lift our arms. There were chains
above, each bearing a pair of handcuffs. He told us to snap ourselves
in, and we did, breathing tremulously, for the moment of truth was about
to dawn upon us. Master locked each of our remaining hands into place.
He admired the curvaceous lines of our hips and legs. He put his palms
upon our bottoms, squeezed them, caressed them. Oh, if only he would do
that all night, and spare us the whip! I thought. Now that the time
had come for our punishment I did not want it. If Melissa hadn't acted
up we might have escaped this, might have teased the men all night in
our risque little cloaks, prancing around, our tits and asses jiggling
alluringly. Now our adorable bottoms were going to taste new leather,
sharp leather, that the servants had polished just for us. Melissa
flinched as master tested the tightness of her asshole, digging within
her springy cheeks. It was the first violation. My ass was next. He
found me just a touch easier. I tried to relax, tried to open for him.
Resistance was futile.
"Your rear apertures, they are too tight," Master murmured.
"You must both be widened, made more accessible. We will begin
tonight. Do not move as I bind your legs, or I will be rougher with you
than I need to be." He bent, skillfully drew each of our ankles as far
apart as he could, starting with me, and secured them with metal cuffs
chained to the floor. Melissa lifted one leg, then the other,
restless. Master told her not to do so again, in a voice that made even
her obey. Then opened her stance fully, making her peep fearfully at
the width of it, and locked down her feet.
"Push out your bottoms, girls!" Master barked at us. We
presented our silken globes as best we could, jutting them back, looking
over our shoulders to see if master was satisfied. I saw then that we
had been drawn apart so we could be quartered.
Belts were fastened around our waists, and chains fitted snugly
into our bottomcracks. Curiously, at the point where my chain crossed
over my butthole there was a large ring, which master forced down into
the furrow of my cheeks, until it fit over my sphincter like a
bullseye. At the point where my rump merged into the pretty pouch of my
pussy the chain separated into two strands. One ran along the outside
of each of my pussy lips. Master said that was so he could fuck us in
our cunts whenever he wanted. But what about our butts? I wondered.
Melissa was put into a chain-belt of her own.
Master drew forth two nicely sized dildoes. He told us he was
going to wedge them up our asses and make us wear them all around the
house. Mine was inserted first, master constantly telling me to stick
out my bottom farther. The shaft went up me with difficulty. I
whimpered, not wanting it. But I did not speak, for that would have
earned me a punishment, and I was dead set against punishments just now.
"No, please," Melissa said, eyeing the slimmer dick master had
in mind for her. He gave her bottom a hard slap and she wailed,
wiggling her tushy all around.
"Not another word, girl," master growled. "There is no way I
can get my dick up that tight little passage of yours, and I'll be
damned if I let any other man beat me to it." He was gentle though,
touching her anus with his finger, working it slowly inside, saying she
would be distended no more than necessary for regular fucking. "I
admire a nice, tight ass as much as the next man," he assured her,
finally withdrawing his digit. "I'll only make you as wide as you need
to be to accept a penis, which is no worse than breaking your hymen, you
know. Keep your bottom well out. Yes, like that." He rewarded her by
jamming the nose of the dildo into her hole. She squawked, lurched
forward. He circled her waist with his arm and drew her back again,
shoved the end of the dildo in deeper. Melissa screeched, tried biting
her lip, screeched again.
Slowly, inexorably, the greased member burrowed its way up
Melissa's virgin chute. Master told her to breathe deeply, exhale,
breathe in again. Inch by quarter-inch the rubber organ made its way up
her. At last master was able to attach the end of it to the ring round
her anus, to hold it in place, just as mine was. Together we looked
utterly ridiculous, our asses juttingly presented, pierced with swollen
rubber cocks.
"How delightful they look!" a woman's voice said. Melissa and
I started. God, no! Don't let a woman see us like this. It was too
humbling, too private. We nearly melted with shame as we looked over
our shoulders and saw her approach us. She was elegant, dressed in
business clothes. The very antithesis of our lewdly displayed, ripely
naked teenage bodies. She held a little pony whip, and we knew at once
she would not hesitate to use it on us.
"Please, ma'am!" Melissa asked. She howled as a cut landed
right on her bottom. A harsh one too, biting deep. She wiggled her ass
and mistress told her to stick it right out again. She gave her
another, and then me too, making me yelp.
"Keep those bottoms presented properly," our new mistress
ordered. She spoke with a refined English accent. Oh, how did I get
myself into such a predicament? I wondered. I could not speak, could
not move, and it felt like I had a giant-sized cucumber rammed up my
ass. On top of that, I yearned to have something plunder me in front,
yet feared that it might be many hours in coming. My nipples stood out
stiffly, brushing the timbered wall, being scraped by it. I drew back,
sticking out my bottom farther. "There, that's better," mistress said
to me. "Keep your nipples away from that wall, its most unpleasant."
Master ordered us fed. We weren't particularly hungry, but I
soon learned that filling our bellies wasn't exactly the point. About
an hour later Melissa and I both had to poop. Gingerly our butt cocks
were removed, to gasps of relief from us. We pooped into our buckets.
Then master used the opportunity of our shit-greased holes to insert
larger shafts up us. We whined and moaned but did not say any words,
for we did not want mistress' whip again.
It was then that mistress "helpfully" suggested to master that
a girl could always take more up her butt after she'd been whipped.
Master needed no further encouragement. He was determined to get us
open for him.
By the time the night ended Melissa and I were so thoroughly
worn out that we offered no resistance as master pulled out our dildoes
and inserted a third set. Our poor bottoms were bright red. We'd been
struck with everything master had on hand. Melissa and I, barely able
to stand, were ushered by the men from the woodshed. We looked like
stuffed tomatoes as, our butts filled to bursting by the dildoes, we
were escorted to our bedchamber.
Smooth, cool satin sheets awaited us, but our butts stung like
fire when the men tried to sit us on them. We finally plopped directly
onto the beds on our bellies, and hastily made to rub ourselves to
orgasm with our hands. At once master commanded that our hands be
handcuffed behind us.
"The poor babies," mistress said sympathetically, as Melissa
and I broke into frustrated sobs. "Their skin must be protected,
though. It must have salve applied to it immediately."
"Well, you take care of that," master said. He left, along
with the men, leaving us in mistress' hands. I hated her, for it was
she who had suggested giving us a thorough whipping so we could accept
bigger dildoes.
Lovingly mistress settled between us on the bed and smoothed
perfumed unguents and oils on our skin. At first I yowled at her touch,
my skin was so sensitive. But gradually her soft caresses felt better.
I begged her to put salve on my clitty (for naughty reasons), but she
refused.
She slipped away for awhile, then returned, and told us quietly
that she was going to remove the giant (or so it seemed!) dildoes up our
asses. We thanked her profusely. She eased them out very gingerly, for
we had tightened up considerably around the things since they'd been
inserted, when we were dead tired in the woodshed.
"You shouldn't thank me quite so soon," she said, when the
dildoes had at last popped out. "You'll get to sleep all day, but I'm
having you over to my place this evening, where you'll serve ladies tea
and be whipped again."
"B-But why?" I asked, when Melissa and I recovered our voices.
"Ooooh, I don't ever want to be touched again!" Melissa
whined. "It's child sexual abuse, you know!"
"Well girls, be that as it may, you are love slaves now, and
master promised not to harm you in any way. Now, a whipping merely
reddens your bottom. Welts might be given, and they fade away. If the
skin is broken, of course, and bleeds, it eventually heals and leaves a
little white scar. Now, that would be harm. But as long as your skin
isn't broken, I see no reason for you to complain."
"You mean," I said, shocked at what being a love slave could
entail. "You mean, we might be whipped every night, so long as we
aren't made to bleed?"
"Exactly!" mistress said. And with that she got up from the
bed. "Oh, by the way, by sure to wash off your dildoes. They're on
that silver platter over there." She pointed to a nightstand. Melissa
and I both broke into loud sobs. Love slavery was no fun at all!
That evening mistress got us up. Melissa and I, waking, found
we had to pee very badly. Mistress hurried us into the toilet, without
even removing our handcuffs, and we just made it, though I had to wait
for Melissa, dancing around in my handcuffs while she sat on the pot.
We were to bathe next. Mistress decided to put us in the
shower with our handcuffs on.
"I don't trust you two," she said. "You're liable to
masturbate each other if I let you wash yourselves." And she was right,
we would have. So she stood us in the shower and carefully washed us,
giving just the lightest of touches to our desperate parts. Then she
dried us off.
Dinner was served in our bedroom. We sat handcuffed at a
little wooden table and mistress sat between us and fed us. And she
told us erotic stories, just to keep us on edge.
"When I was your age I went hiking once, with a boyfriend,"
mistress related. "I put on my new tennies, my best panties, a nice
frilly bra, and the rest of my hiking gear. We went hiking out to an
old stable. And do you know why we went there? Because we knew there
was an ancient whipping post there and we wanted to try it...on me!
"When we finally arrived, there it was! And, even though I was
a little bit afraid, I felt so sexy taking off my clothes for my
boyfriend, standing there in front of the whipping post. At last, in
only my panties, I felt very shy. But he cracked the whip he'd brought
on the dusty floor and told me to get out of my panties. So I eased
them off, really scared now but feeling oh so very sexy. I'd slid them
down to my ankles and was about to step out of them and hang them up
somewhere, neatly, when he grabbed me and pushed me against the post and
quickly tied me up. Then he gave me one hellacious whipping! I cried
and cried, but there was no one to help me, for the stable was far out
in the country, where no one went anymore. And that's why we'd chosen
it, of course, to be alone, just the two of us, and do whatever we
wanted in the name of love.
"He kissed my bottom all over afterward, and told me he was
sorry, with me still tied to the post and trembling. At last he freed
me and I collapsed into his arms and kissed him again and again. I had
trouble sitting down in school the next day, but other than that I was
fine. So you see, I know all about whipping, how reluctant a girl is to
go through with it, and how it raises her self-esteem afterward, and
makes her feel like a woman. After all, none of my other girlfriends
had been tied to a whipping post. So when I heard them talking about
who French-kissed whom, and how awful it must be, I just smiled to
myself, and thought about how mature I was, compared to them.
"I like being immature!" Melissa piped up.
"Well, you'll have plenty of time to be immature after master
is through with you. In the meantime, you're going to be a fine young
lady. I'll see to that," Mistress assured her.
After dinner a servant brought us the clothes we would be
wearing for the evening.
"All I see is underwear!" Melissa said, eyeing the "attire."
Two ridiculously small pairs of panties were laid out on the bed for us,
and two miniscule bras.
"Put them on, and I'll have something else for you afterward,"
Mistress said confidently. With that assurance we agreed. After all,
we were naked, and anything was better than being buck naked.
Especially in a house full of whips! Mistress removed our handcuffs so
we could get dressed. She seemed amused as she watched us struggle into
the pathetic little garments.
At last, just barely getting my bra snapped shut, with a
valiant assist from Melissa, we stood looking at ourselves in a mirror.
Improbably small panties struggled to contain our butts. In front, our
venus deltas were no more than two-thirds covered. Our breasts were
almost a lost cause, the teensy bras threatening to snap at any moment.
Our boobs, our bottoms ballooned out from the tautly stretched material,
and I hoped no one would ask us to dance.
"You do, I presume, have nothing less than an Iranian chador to
go with these?" I asked mistress pluckily.
"You are so sweet," Mistress smiled. "Lie down on the bed,
girls, and I'll show you what else I have." I was about to obey when
Melissa said: "Waitaminnit! This is something we get to wear, right?"
"Oh, no!" I said. "I get it! We get our asses spanked and get
to 'wear' whip marks, right?"
"Girls, you must have better attitudes," Mistress said. "Lie
down now, and I may give you a little taste of what you've been
wanting."
Reluctantly, Melissa and I stretched out on the soft sheets of
our bed. The sheets had been changed since we slept on them. They
smelled fresh and new. Languidly we stretched our limbs, enjoying our
freedom from the cuffs, and especially those awful dildoes!
"I want your nipples erect," Mistress said. "Please pull down
the cups of your bras and twiddle them until they're nice and hard."
With some difficulty, careful not to break the cups, we managed to free
our nipples. Then we fingered them up.
"Very good, girls. Now I want you first, Barbi, to pull down
the front of your panties for me," Mistress said. I hooked my thumb
into the front of my panties and pulled them open. Mistress came over
to the side of the bed, and she was holding a can of Cool-Whip. She
shook it.
With bright, unbelieving eyes I watched as Mistress aimed the
can of pressurized cream at my pussy. Then, smiling, she squirted it
right onto me. I squealed like a little girl. When the pouch of my
panties was full of cream mistress told me to pull them back up. Then
she anointed each of my titties, and I carefully replaced my bra. Only
then did I realize that the cream was that extra item Melissa and I
would be wearing to the evening's party.
Half an hour later a horse drawn coach pulled up in front of
mistress' mansion. Melissa and I stumbled out, assisted by footmen,
wearing frightfully high six-inch heels, and nothing else save our
notorious underwear. Our makeup was impeccable. Our long tresses were
brushed to a vibrant sheen. All dolled up but with nothing to wear, we
entered the house.
Six ladies were present, seated at a table playing cards, and
they were knockouts. I felt like melting into the floor as I saw these
prim, aristocratic women, with their elegant clothes, fine busts, and
glorious faces. If Agamemnon and the Greeks had passed these ladies on
their way to Troy the city would never have been sacked. Helen would
have died a lonely, forgotten death.
With mincing, humiliated steps Melissa and I served the ladies
tea. They seemed to delight in pinching our bottoms just as we were
about to fill their cups, promising us extra lashes later for every drop
of tea we spilled.
The cream in our panties only made our situation worse. We
endured endless taunts about how the cream must be semen, and finally I
was made to kneel and lick Melissa's cream out of her panties. When the
two of us scampered gratefully back to the kitchen, to get more
biscuits, I decided we had to escape.
Women as ravishing as our hosts couldn't have been lesbians if
they wanted to. There were just too many men in the world determined to
get into their pants. And so, in the kitchen, the women kept a male
slave, a buff poster boy who was to keep his penis at the ready and keep
Melissa and me in line. But I found out that he was as sick of the
women as we were. And he found the costumes Melissa and I were wearing
to be too enticing to pass up. I think it was that semen-like cream in
our panties that finally got to him.
"Okay, girls, I've been here for three months, serving those
bitches, and they've kept me well drained, I can assure you. If you'd
appeared a week ago I wouldn't have helped you even if you'd paid me, I
was so sick of having pussies shoved at me. I think my dick's grown
three inches from all the overtime its had to put in.
"But, for the last week, those bitches haven't let me have
anything. I've been sleeping handcuffed just like you." I could see
his point. He was wearing a pair of Speedo swim briefs, and his
cockhead was sticking out the top. The man simply could not contain
himself.
We stole out a back door, and slipped stealthily over the dewy
grass to the stables where the horses were kept. Melissa and I had only
ever ridden master's ponies, with the servants leading them around for
us in a circle. Here, at mistress's, she kept only the finest Arabian
stallions. They were large and temperamental.
"Isn't there, isn't there a car or something we could escape
in?" Melissa asked warily, eyeing one of the big steeds. It took all
Mark's skills as a horseman to keep them quiet.
"No, there are watchmen, night watchmen," Mark hissed,
reminding Melissa to keep her voice down. "They'd hear a car start! If
you can't ride well, one of you get in front of me, and one behind.
Melissa, you sit in front, since you're the littlest. Barbi..." he eyed
me, my boobies showing whitely in the moonlight that shafted into the
stable. "Barbi, you look like a big brave girl. You get behind me and
hang on!"
Mark selected a horse and draped a velour blanket over it. He
bitted it but left off the saddle, to allow the three of us to ride.
With a helping hand on our tushies Melissa and I managed to mount. Then
up came our hero, balls bulging within his swim trunks, seemingly about
to rip the damn swimwear to pieces. "God! This fucking shit is too
tight!" Mark whined, falling back from the horse.
"Take them off, then!" I scolded. Quick as Tarzan he tore down
the insidious briefs, down the marble columns of his legs. Melissa and
I caught our breaths as we saw his fully erect member leap into view.
Then, quite businesslike, he jumped up onto our horse and drove it
forward with a flick of the reins. On the way out of the barn he
snatched a riding crop, and handed it back to me.
"When we get clear of the mansion use the crop on the horse's
flank now and then to keep it motivated," he said over his shoulder.
Under a canopy of trees we passed, silently, our hushed breath
living whitish plumes in the air in our wake. Even though the night had
turned chilly we hardly felt it. We were eagerly anticipating our
freedom. I vowed I would never again be a love slave, even as I hugged
Mark's massive body and wondered what it would be like to obey him.
Mistress' mansion receded behind us. At last, seemingly one by
one, the lighted windows of the house disappeared in the foggy gloom of
the night.
"Accommodations are going to be a bitch," Mark whispered aloud
some time later.
"Hmmm?" I asked, coming out of a rhythm induced reverie.
"I said..." Mark glanced back at me. "Picture me walking up to
a motel clerk, butthole naked, and saying, "Excuse me, sir, may two
underaged girls and I spend the night at your fine establishment? We
don't have any money, but I'd be happy to contribute to your sperm bank
if you have one!"
I burst out laughing. It was the first time I'd felt total joy
in days. Melissa laughed so hard, in a girlish high-pitched voice, that
I was sure mistress would hear it.
"Keep it down up there!" I advised her. Then, jealously, "Does
Mark have his dick up your butt or something?"
"Nooo, he's just funny," Melissa said.
We rode more slowly through the woods. As Mark eased the
stallion's pace I let my hands slip from his hard stomach to his
thighs. He let me stroke them. Then, soundlessly, I let my hands steal
between his legs. His shaft, utterly rigid, bounced freely. I
determined to catch it. I kissed his shoulder first, letting my hair
brush against it, asking permission. He did not say anything. Then,
like talons, my fingers reached out and clasped about his big organ. I
thought I'd caught the horse's organ for a minute, it felt so big in my
hands. Still Mark said nothing, just uttering a little groan. His back
straitened slightly.
Not wanting to make him come, I stroked him carefully, touching
the engorged flesh, reaching down and finding the full sac of his
testicles, pressing my fingers into it, marvelling at its tightness.
And then I felt more hands, slim, soft, Melissa! The fiend had
reached back behind her ass and was trying to pull the head of Mark's
cock up her butt. Her sweet, cherry ass that she had so recently
lamented having to take a dildo. Now she wanted Mark's huge thing up
her!
"Girls! Please! I'm going to have to decline," Mark said. He
batted away our hands, shifted his legs. He shivered once, got control
of himself. I pouted, kissed his shoulder again, but he brushed my hand
away when I made to stroke his thigh. "I'm going to get us out of the
woods and into safe lodgings, someplace..." Mark said. Mistress and
your master know these woods well. If we don't find civilization by
morning, friendly civilization, they'll be looking for us and they'll
find us." With that warning in mind Melissa and I kept our hands to
ourselves.
With the moon riding high, Mark finally hit on a plan. "I know
a lady," he said. "A really cool lady. She's young, too, like us, and
has a cool husband. I washed her horses once or twice, as a favor from
mistress to her. But she was really nice to me, and she told me she
doesn't like mistress at all, just pretends she does to keep up
appearances and avoid a squabble.
"I--well, Hell! I was washing the horses in my regulation
Speedos, and this lady, Gretchen, she came out of her house and struck
up a conversation with me. She was topless, just wearing little bikini
panties, and it was a hot day. She invited me to go swimming with her
in her pool, since we were both dressed for it. I told her I only wore
the Speedos because mistress made me, not because I was planning to go
swimming or anything. And she said, 'Mistress won't be back 'til four.
You can swim without them for all I care. And the horse certainly won't
mind if you don't wear them!' That made me laugh. So I stripped the
damn things off and threw them in the mud.
"'Well, now the horse is naked, and you're naked, and I'm the
only one who's being modest," Gretchen laughed. I told her not to take
off her panties, though, because I didn't want to get in trouble with
her husband.
"It's bad enough you're standing out here topless," I said.
"And you'd better damn well tell me if your husband comes home, because
I'm going to get those Speedos on right quick if he does." She laughed
and kissed me then, just like that, pressing her breasts against me,
which were the loveliest I'd ever seen. Then she took of her panties
and helped me wash down her horse. It was wonderful. It was the freest
I've ever felt. We scrubbed the horse, and she fell on her butt once or
twice in the slick mud. We dumped water on each other and I was sure we
were going to make love when suddenly mistress came back, an hour
early. I had to stuff myself back into my Speedos and Gretchen ran into
the house and threw some clothes on. She didn't want to cross mistress,
you know. They bought their house from her and were still paying her
for it. It's this great chateau, not real big, but not too small
either, a perfect 'love nest,' if you know what I mean, for a young
couple just starting out in life. It's not too far...we could make it
and maybe spend the night there!"
Melissa and I agreed that a "love nest" sounded like an
agreeable location. The rubbing of our pussies on the velvet cloth was
tormenting us. At first I'd been so worried about escaping I hardly
noticed its effect but now, our pace having slowed, I found myself
shivering with need. I felt an orgasm coming on fast and told Mark to
stop, that I had to go to the bathroom.
Mark waited, holding the horse, while Melissa and I crouched in
the grass and peed. He looked so wonderful, standing there, a few yards
away, his form large and dark against the shadowy trees.
"Do you need to too?" I asked Melissa furtively.
"I already did," she replied. "I bit my lip so you wouldn't
hear. But Mark saw me trembling, stroked my back, and that made me cum
all the harder."
"You mean you were sitting up there rubbing yourself off on the
horse?!" I asked. Melissa looked downcast, said nothing.
"Well, don't feel bad, I almost came, several times, in fact.
Mark is lucky. He can ride the thing without coming in direct contact
with it. He has balls."
"I noticed," Melissa said impishly. "They're so huge, I worry
about them popping open." She giggled. Then, more solemnly, almost
curiously, "Do you think they'll be empty by morning?"
"Where, up your tiny butthole? I saw you trying to get him up
you. What makes you think you can even take him in your pussy?"
"I can try," she said whiningly.
"You couldn't even get him in your mouth," I chided.
"Well, you have a big butt hole and you will shove him right up
before I ever get a chance!" Melissa said reproachfully. She stood up
and hastened back to the horse. I followed, quietly, not sure what to
make of her temper-tantrum. We were all at about our wit's
end...spanked, hot, chilly, fleeing from the half-known into the
unknown.
Mark mounted us back on the horse, his hand firm on our
heinies, then mounted himself and jibed the horse into action.
Daffodils glowed in the moonlight as we pulled up in front of
Gretchen's chalet. Mark dropped down from the horse, saying, "Let me go
knock first." Looking about, he ran up to the door, cock waggling,
looking like some streaker from the 70's. To our horror it was
Gretchen's husband who answered the door!
"Uh, good evening young man," he said, slightly startled and
quite definitely amused. We could hear his voice easily, booming out
across the front lawn. "You have some fine equipment there, son, but I
don't know if the local constable would approve of you displaying it so,
ah, prominently."
"Mark!" a cheery voice called out suddenly, and a young woman's
figure appeared in the doorway. The glow of a fire, somewhere inside
the chalet, made her appear as a darkened figure against the brighter
light of the home's interior. I thought I saw her breasts bobbing,
freely, it seemed. "You're bound to get a girl pregnant walking around
like that. Come in! We're having some friends over for a birthing
class. I definitely think you should join us."
"He does seem suitably poised to impregnate someone, doesn't
he?" Gretchen's husband asked rhetorically. Mark was as stiff as a log
and riding around with two bouncing, naked girls hadn't helped any.
"Uh, can my friends come in?" Mark asked. He turned, gazed out
across the yard, beckoned us. We slid down from the horse and traipsed
across the grass, picking our way in our ridiculously high heels. Our
breasts had long since popped from our bras as we rode, twin peaks of
cream still gleaming on our nipples. My panties had ripped in back.
Melissa coyly put her hands over her pussy as we came up to the door.
Gretchen and her husband, Bob, gave us a warm, understanding
welcome. I saw to my surprise that Gretchen was topless, her breasts
floating easily on her chest, above her narrow ribs. Mark was right.
They were truly a lovely pair; full and round, but coming to luscious
points at the tips, with just a touch of gourdliness to them, which
seemed to make them all the more bewitching. She had big round
dollar-coin sized nipples, from which her nipples sprouted freely. She
wore a brown plaid neckerchief. Her hair, braided into country-girl
pigtails, was tied at the ends with pieces of hemp rope. The hair
around her face, though, was loose, unbraided, and the last two inches
of each pigtail was unbraided, giving her a casual air. She was
barefoot but wore soft, tight-fitting jeans, and looking at them I
suspected she had no panties on underneath.
The interior of the chalet consisted of a hardwood floor, with
Indian-patterned throw rugs cast upon it. The furniture was antique, or
even hand-made, but nicely rubbed and polished. As Mark explained our
predicament gave us wet towels and had us wipe ourselves down. Melissa
and I slipped out of our silly bikinis and wiped off the whipped cream.
We threw off our heels and wiped the dew off our feet.
"Come in and meet our other guests," Gretchen urged. Fresh and
feeling sprightly, we followed her into an adjacent room. There was no
furniture in it, just mats covered with crisp white sheets. Two men and
two women sat cross-legged, the men in shirts but no pants, one woman in
frayed cut-offs, the other wearing just her panties. If they'd arrived
in clothes they must have hung them up outside, for in the small room
itself there was only a book and a tube of KY jelly. Several
slow-burning candles cast the room in romantic shadows. Mirrors on the
walls made sure all aspects of everyone's nudity could be seen by
everyone present.
"You're in luck!" Gretchen said happily to Mark, giving his
dick and balls a teasing glance. "We're just getting started. Jamie
here wanted to have a baby, and pretty soon all three of us wanted to."
We sat down with the two couples, nodding politely at them, Melissa,
Mark and I totally nude. "So tonight we've all three decided to try to
get pregnant, but first we're going to study what its like to have a
baby...you know, how to actually give birth to one, and what it's like
to take care of it!" She then told the other couples our names, and
gave us their first names. "Now of course we'll be covering breast
feeding, so of course the women must be topless. And the poor men could
hardly be expected to sit in their tight pants watching three beautiful
pairs of breasts bobbing around, so we let them take them off. Of
course, they'll need to have them off later in any case." She smiled,
gave a flip of her pigtails. "But this first part is serious. If this
baby stuff is too much, we're going to postpone getting pregnant. So
let's listen up and I'll do my best to lead us through a basic
understanding of pregnancy and birth. I had some nursing courses in
college so I think I can explain it alright, although I sometimes used
nursing class to sleep off my love of dancing!"
She read about breathing first, how to practise your breathing
for labor, and we sat there in the candlelight, each of us a hand on our
chest, breathing in and out. Then she went on to labor, and delivery,
and then breast feeding. The men's eyes seemed to light up when she
went into that part:
"During pregnancy your breasts are preparing to produce milk,"
she explained. "Hormones promote the growth of special breast tissue
designed to produce milk. Your breasts will slowly increase in size,
and the nipples will become more prominent.
"About two days after delivery, tour milk comes in. Initially
your breasts may feel uncomfortable. They will be much larger than
usual, and tender. The best cure for this discomfort is a hungry baby.
"If you are uncomfortable for the first few days of nursing,
try putting ice packs on your breasts. Nursing your infant will help
ease the discomfort of engorged breasts. A bra that offers good support
helps too. Remember, your breasts will feel full, but the discomfort
should go away once you are nursing regularly.
"Many women find it difficult to relax during nursing. The
milk is in the breast but it does not come out easily when the baby
sucks. A quieter and more relaxing environment may be all that is
necessary.
"During the postpartum period you may have problems with your
breasts, as mentioned earlier. Engorgement is often a painful
condition. Your breasts will probably become swollen, and sore. If the
engorgement is severe, you may have to use a breast pump or express your
milk manually for a few days. Begin nursing as soon as possible to
alleviate this condition. Ice packs may alleviate some of the swelling.
"Some women get cracked nipples from breast feeding. This is
easy to cure. When baby is not feeding keep your nipples dry. Some
doctors recommend drying your nipples with a hair dryer after feeding
baby. Exposure to air also is helpful." Gretchen smiled, looked up.
"So you see, girls, going topless around the house is a perfect way to
keep your nipples healthy after childbirth. And I'm sure your husbands
won't mind a bit." She looked back at her book.
"A soothing cream such as lanolin can also help your nipples.
"Now...what you eat influences the amount and quality of the
milk you produce. You need to consume extra calories. This will help
guarantee good milk production."
I glanced around at the men. They were painfully alert, in
mind...and body. I thought their penises seemed about to begin a little
milk production of their own. Bob, whose shirt had covered his
nakedness when I first met him at the door, turned out to have a very
fine member. Gretchen had chosen her mate well. The other men were
well endowed too, and I couldn't help running my tongue over my lips as
I regarded them. Bob noticed, smiled. I blushed.
"Let's practise expressing our milk, girls," Gretchen said.
"Rest your hand above your nipple, press down gently. Baby will be
underneath." She put her hand to her breast and pretended to express
milk from it. We followed her example. The room seemed very quiet
then. I let my hand, which was resting on my thigh, slip between them.
Absently, looking at Bob, I flicked my cunny with my thumb. It was as
if I was pointing to it, inviting him in. He stared at me, enchanted.
Each girl seemed to fix on a man. Gretchen met eyes with Mark. There
was an electricity in the air.
Gently I palpitated my right breast, imagining I was feeding a
baby, my baby, my big strong baby. I licked my lips again. I heard
Melissa sigh.
"Now let's have a volunteer, men," Gretchen said. "One for
each girl. We know you're all big babies anyway, so this should be easy
for you." She didn't have to ask the men twice. The breast which I had
offered to Bob in play he now accepted in reality. He suckled avidly,
and I pretended to give him my milk. He soon had me gasping. Gretchen
practised breastfeeding with Mark. Melissa was the odd girl out, for
the other two couples practised on each other. So, casting about, she
selected one of Gretchen's teats, first sucking, then feeding Gretchen
herself, while Mark all the while nursed from them both. "My, you must
be quite a hungry baby, to need four breasts," Gretchen teased him.
Other than that little else was said. It was, as the book had advised,
a quiet and relaxing environment, lit by candlelight.
Before things could go completely astray Gretchen called the
group to order, brushing her hair from her face and composing herself
with some difficulty. The others in the group broke apart reluctantly,
but there was no hurry, really, and everyone knew that. The night was
to be savored, especially since it might well be the last these women
ever had as young wives, young maidens, free of the cares of
motherhood. Motherhood. It sounded strange, yet special to me. Did I
want a baby of my very own? I wondered. I hadn't been keeping up too
well with my Pill lately. One of these men tonight might prove father
to my child, if I let him. Could I refuse?
"About that pussy," Gretchen began with a giggle, summarizing
the next part of her lecture. "Your vagina is apt to be sore. Time for
healing is needed. Gently clean the area daily. Hot baths may help
ease the discomfort.
"To help the vaginal muscles, do the Kegel exercise. You
simply tighten your vaginal muscles as you would if you needed to stop
urinating in midstream. Hold it for a few seconds, release, and repeat
several times." She looked up at her husband. "Robert, would you fetch
the chamber pot please?" He got up, cock swinging stiffly, and stepped
to the door. A moment later he returned with a big brass chamber pot,
enough for all us girls to pee in. He set it down and Melissa, actually
needing to go, went first. Gretchen helped her learn the exercise.
Then I went, then Gretchen, but because of Melissa's "contribution," the
pot was pretty full, so Robert took a break and emptied it for us. When
he returned the last two girls went. "Men can try this too," Gretchen
said coquettishly. "It helps with orgasmic control." So the men, quite
interested in that, practised stopping and starting the flow of their
urine, until they were all empty. Robert removed the pot then, and we
all sat back down. There was tension in the air.
"Now," Gretchen said, her voice quavering just a bit. "We've
decided that it's all for one and one for all...all or nothing. So we
must take a vote. Shall we get pregnant, or not?" Melissa was the
first to raise her hand.
"Not you, silly!" I said, batting it down.
"Well I want to get fucked at least," Melissa whined. "I mean,
if everyone else is going to."
"There's not even someone here for you," I said.
"Well, you're going to abstain, aren't you, Miss Purity?" she
taunted me.
"Now girls, from the looks of the men's testicles, I'm sure
there's enough to go around for everyone," Gretchen said. "We told them
that we each expected a tribute from them, and they'd best be full for
the occasion. As you can see, a week of enforced abstinence was most
helpful.
"Shit, I haven't come in a week myself. I know I've got
plenty," Mark said.
"Yes, you OBVIOUSLY do," Gretchen said. "Either that or God
traded yours with a horse's when you were born." Melissa and I couldn't
help tittering at that. He did have big ones, and an equally
proportioned cock.
"How old are you?" Robert asked Mark.
"Seventeen, sir."
"Well, you did quite well by the Lord for such a young lad,"
Bob replied. "John Bobbitt should call you for a donation sometime."
We all laughed. Everything was growing more carefree by the moment.
"Oh, hell, I guess I'm game," one of the girls opposite me
said.
"Me too," the other chimed in.
"Then I'm not going to be the one to say no," Gretchen said.
"Melissa, you're in. Barbi, you can just watch if you want to." I
looked at Bob. So handsome, mature. I wanted him, but he belonged to
Gretchen. He glanced a moment at his wife.
"Mark, have you ever been a father?" Bob asked the boy.
"No, sir."
"You're about to be," he said. Gretchen dipped her eyes,
flushed. She'd wanted Mark ever since they'd first met.
Roping in Melissa with his arm before she could feel left out,
Robert drew her next to me. Kneeling, we leaned forward and kissed, all
three of us, our tongues dueling in the open air at first, then plunging
into each other's mouths. Robert rubbed our firm, flat tummies with his
palms.
Playfully Gretchen and Mark closed in on one another. Admiring
his cock, she played with it, making it wiggle up and down, stroking the
head, caressing the long, swollen shaft. He delighted in her breasts,
tickling the nipples, saying dirty incoherent things to her. Behind us
the two other couples merged, licking, kissing, cooing.
Intending, I think, to plow us both in our pussies
simultaneously, Robert ordered me on all fours. He told Melissa to
mount me.
"Ooohh, you're going to stick your thing up my bottom, aren't
you?" Melissa whined. Reluctantly she got on top of me. I spread my
legs wide, my pouch cupped beneath my ass, wet and waiting. Robert
forced Melissa, who was straddling me, her quim poised above mine, to
put her thighs outside my own. Wickedly I had hoped he might do this.
I'd never been mounted by a girl before, but it seemed logical that
however wide my stance, hers would be necessarily wider, provided the
man made it so.
"Oooh, it will never fit," Melissa whimpered, a finger
alluringly in her lips, as I saw from our reflections on a mirrored
wall. She was lying over my back, her heinie jutting out, her head
turned to see Robert. Their eyes met as he kneed his way up behind the
two of us.
"Why, you've had a man's penis in your bottom before, haven't
you?" Robert asked rather absently. He flexed his butt, his legs apart
slightly, cock erect and pointed in businesslike fashion at our
doubly-offered twats. Limbering up, he gave several thrusts at the air
with his penis.
"No, and I don't want to either," Melissa said. I saw a
twinkle of recognition suddenly light up Robert's eyes. The girl had
just managed to turn our double-pronging into a solitary one. Now
Robert's cock was reserved exclusively for her!
I decided I would make sure the little minx paid her dues fully
for cheating me out of my portion. As Robert suddenly announced that he
would have her bottom, I reached up and grabbed a handful of each of her
ass cheeks.
"You're going to get the ride of your life," I warned Melissa.
Yanking her lovely little rounds hard apart, I bucked, bouncing her atop
me.
Amidst screams and cries and protestations Robert took aim at
Melissa's little hole. He clamped her firmly by her waist as I kept my
hands on her splayed ass. Gretchen, who already had Mark up her, proved
a true sportstress by breaking off and coming over to hold Melissa
down. She pressed down on the girl's shoulders, her own perfect breasts
wobbling to and fro above Melissa's frantically twisting head. Mark,
sensing a new opportunity, cupped Gretchen's bottom and began working
himself up her own hole from behind.
Robert lanced Melissa's crinkled orifice, even as his own wife
received a similar salute from Robert. Together they worked their
organs up the clenching channels, calling out encouragement to one
another.
"God! This is the tightest cherry ass I ever took," Robert
swore.
"Your wife is no buttered chute herself," Mark said. "How
often have you fucked her back here?"
"Not nearly as many times as I'd like to. She's shy about her
ass," Robert said.
Threshing above me, Melissa shook her brunette tresses all
about. She begged to be let up. I let her up all right, bucking like a
rodeo stallion beneath her. Each rearing of my ass sent hers bouncing
into Robert, shoving his stiff organ farther up her.
"Noo, noo, noo," Melissa pleaded, but there was no reprieve for
her. The shapely bottom which she so proudly displayed at her coming
out party was rent apart, stabbed, filled. Robert's penis burrowed all
the way up. He did not spare her a single inch. Triumphant at last,
the first male to conquer her ass, he savored his achievement.
"Good girl, good girl," Gretchen cooed, stroking Melissa's
cheek, as her husband held himself within her sucking hole. His balls
banged sweetly against Melissa's quim, and when he relaxed his stance
they squished nicely against the offered curves of my own heinie.
As for Gretchen, she was invaded completely by Mark, whose
penis rivalled that of her much older husband. It took a significant
concentration of her will for her to console Melissa even as she
suffered Mark's assault.
"Sir, I challenge you to a race, the winner being the last, of
course, to cum," Mark said, addressing Robert.
"A bit unfair odds, don't you think?" Robert asked, adjusting
himself inside Melissa's clenching bottom as a tremor of pleasure washed
over him.
"You're older and more experienced," Mark said.
"All right, but there must be a punishment for the man who
improvidently spills his seed first," Robert replied.
"He will have his balls cinched up in a cock ring and wear a
butt plug all day tomorrow," Mark offered, thinking himself certain to
win.
"So be it," Robert agreed. They saluted one another.
As Mark withdrew his own penis to the tip Robert suddenly
cursed aloud and announced his own sword was stuck. I couldn't help
laughing, and gave an extra vigorous leap with my hindquarters to help
him.
"OOOWWW!" Melissa shouted, having apparently gotten even more
thoroughly impaled upon Robert. But he did afterward manage to withdraw
a bit, and with additional helpful rearings from me he was soon urging
himself in and out. He went slowly, gently, suavely caressing Melissa's
quivering bottom cheeks. Looking down at himself sprouting within her
he admired the gleaming firmness of her pert young hiney. Springily it
jutted up to him, my hands keeping it firmly apart.
Poor Melissa! She had escaped the discipline of the
card-playing ladies only to be subjected to the greater rigors of a male
up her fanny. I wondered if her clitty peaked to the open air as mine
did, though. It intrigued me to be a part of her undoing. I guessed
she was no less excited. She'd flaunted her bottom, and it had been
suitably admired at last, the only way a male could truly do so. And
she was about to enjoy the final tribute, a gushing of male fluid far
into her rectum.
"Oh, God! No!" Mark cried. His enthusiasm was getting away
from him as Gretchen wriggled wide-eyed upon his prong. She was
enthused about the thought of making Mark her love slave for a day, his
big balls stuffed inside a leather pouch, his ass plugged. Biting her
lip against the discomfort, she rocked her fanny upon his thrusting
organ. "No! No! No!" Mark shouted, but it was too late. He shot his
semen up her sucking hole and Gretchen smiled, still bug-eyed. She had
taken him.
Robert laughed. Then, moments later, he too fired off, sending
up a howl from Melissa as his hot cum flooded her.
With many sighs and shivers we at last uncoupled. I trembled
uncontrollably now, as Melissa rolled off me, Robert withdrew, and
Gretchen and Mark fell apart. I was still unsatiated.
"Oooo, my bottom hurts," Melissa said. She lay on her back,
her knees drawn up, clutching at her burning, sundered nether cheeks
with her palms. I stroked the insides of my thighs with my fingertips,
legs spread, wishing, hoping, needing.
Gretchen fetched some champagne and poured it into a glass.
Then she inserted Mark's organ into it, making him wince at the slight
sting. He was already stiffening again. Carefully she washed him, then
dried him off with a linen handkerchief. By the time she was done he
was as hard as he'd ever been.
"Now be a good boy and go do Barbi," Gretchen whispered,
pointing at me.
Mark sauntered over on his knees, his big cock waggling between his
thighs. Seeing me and Melissa lying side by side, he decided to test
his prowess.
"I shall do both of you at once!" Mark announced lustily. He
told us both to spread our legs. Melissa didn't want to but he yanked
her legs down and opened them for her. Then he stuck her first, just to
keep her in the game, and gave her several quick strokes. She was
languid now, her cunt relaxed, though still girlishly tight. He did me
next, working himself in me longer, petting me, kissing me deeply in my
mouth. Then he withdrew and held himself in the air a moment, regaining
his composure. He poked Melissa once more, bringing new squeaks of
complaint from her. Back and forth he went between us, then, until at
last he made us both shudder with a dewy orgasm. He gave me most of his
seed but, at the last moment, his tool steaming, withdrew and gave
Melissa the final spurt, so that we could suffer the same fate together.
"We're pregnant now," Melissa said to me afterward, rubbing her
belly with her hand. I rubbed mine and replied that we might well
indeed be pregnant. We kissed then, she and I, adventuresses in the
great game of love.
All eyes seemed to be upon us as we lay there, contentedly
kissing. Everyone seemed to have finished their first round of the fuck
fest.
"How sweet and young they both are. There must be dozens of
indecencies they haven't enjoyed yet," Gretchen said, eyes glowing as
she gazed at us. My mouth slipped from Melissa's. Babylike, I let my
head loll over so I could meet Gretchen's eyes. I smiled. My eyes were
lustrous, lively. Gretchen crawled over to me. Her pendant breasts
swung, nipples hard. She touched my tummy with her finger and tickled
me. I giggled. "You know, dear," Gretchen said, addressing her
husband. "We've wanted a baby. These three arrived ready-made, naked
as babies. Perhaps we should practise on them awhile before we have a
real one of our own. We could powder their bottoms, and diaper them
(this would be something you especially could practise, dear--diapering
them). And of course they would need to be bottle-fed, and breast-fed,
and spanked too, when they're naughty." As if to emphasize this last
point Gretchen drew up my legs by their ankles. I was listless, utterly
compliant, utterly carefree. She gave my upended bottom a firm SMACK!
"GOO!" I cried, putting a finger to the corner of my mouth. I
enjoyed playing baby. Strange, how I'd been so intent on becoming a
mature young woman, only to relish playing baby in a stranger's house.
"It might take a season or two to become fully accomplished in
all the parental chores," Robert speculated, clearly aroused at the
thought of keeping two naked young girls in the house, in addition to
his bountiful wife.
"And of course, honey, dear little Mark...well, BIG Mark, would
have to be our pretend child also," Gretchen reminded Robert. I glanced
over at my recent lover and saw his penis stiffen at the thought of
being babied by Gretchen.
"Ah yes, big Mark," Robert said. He glanced at the boy's
impressive cock. "I may have to impart some fatherly advice now and
then, of course."
"You can assign some chores to him also," Gretchen said
hopefully.
"What do you think, Mark? Are you willing to work for your
supper now and then to live here for free?" Robert asked him. Mark
blushed.
"Well, sir, to be totally honest, I'd do most anything for a
chance to pork that beautiful wife of yours." His cock was fully hard
again and ready for action.
"And how about you, girls, would you like to stay here awhile?"
Gretchen asked Melissa and me sweetly. Her finger made circles absently
on my tummy, Melissa's, then mine again, sending the two of us into fits
of giggles.
"Yeth," Melissa slurped, delightfully infantile.
"Yes, I suppose I may as well," I managed to get out between
bouts of laughter. "I think my Argentinean spy mission is more or less
a complete disaster by now."
"Well then, its settled!" Gretchen said matter-of-factly. She
rose and walked to the kitchen, hips swaying alluringly, her bottom firm
and full and womanly. A moment later she returned with pills, one for
each of us, and a glass of water for us to share. The pills were
RU-486, to end our pregnancies. She took one, and Melissa and I also.
The other two couples, however, declined. They wanted to bear children,
they said, even if Gretchen was bowing out.
As I lay there on my back, my legs carelessly askew, I let my
mind drift forward over the days that glimmered before me; imagined now,
soon to be real. They seemed full of promise. I was naked, without
possessions, yet I would be fully cared for. Nothing would be lacking.
In fact, I suspected, I would be thoroughly spoiled. Yet Gretchen had
mentioned spanking. Well, I could handle that, couldn't I? The thought
of marking white flesh with a well-tuned whip excited even me. Perhaps
I would be allowed to give Mark a run for his money. I could just see
myself chasing Mark around the yard, flailing away at his tight, naked
buns.
My thoughts were interrupted by a man. He was one of the other
guests. Robert introduced him, said he wanted to try my pussy himself.
I smiled. I could do little else. He was easing himself up me before I
could even think of resisting.
"Ah, so tight," the man groaned, and I shivered with bliss. I
felt an orgasm building within me almost immediately. Gretchen appeared
at my head, Robert opposite her. They both twirled fingers in my blonde
hair, my mane of gold. Gretchen reached down, plucked at one of my
upstanding nipples.
"Ouch!" I said.
"Mmm, they will look so cute clamped," Gretchen whispered to
me. A tingling of fright ran up my spine. Gently Robert pried open my
lips. Gretchen produced a ball gag and pressed it between my teeth.
"Come, dear, you can take it," she urged. The gag was secured
in place even as the man twixt my legs rammed himself fully up me.
Beside me Melissa was fitted with a gag by Robert, as a man introduced
his cock into her cunt. We were captives, like little caged parakeets.
I suspected it would be a long time before they let us
free.
30
----------------------- Dreamgirls! -----------------------
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