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From: Andrew Roller <roller39@IDT.NET>
Subject: Private Places part 1 of 7 (NND)
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_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
PRIVATE PLACES
_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
Chapter One
I had begun the ritual three days ago. “Fleurette,” I would
hear my mom saying, in my mind. “Do your homework and go to bed. Quit
watching Letterman!” And it would make me angry. I was on vacation,
wasn’t I? We had school year round in L.A., where I lived, but my dad
had taken a beach house here in South America for the summer. I had
come along. What else could I do? I was just 13, and where my parents
went, I went. Or so it had always been, so far.
Slipping into one of my littlest bikinis, I stole from the
house. I walked down the short stone path to the beach. It was broad,
vacant. The sun was just breaking the surface of the water in the
east. Seagulls called, in the distance. I watched them wheel and dive
as I crossed the big beach to where the tide was just going out. Wet
sand squished at last under my feet, the water washing the shore just a
few feet away. In, out, rhythmically.
I stood on the glistening wet sand all by myself. I tossed my
head. I felt my long blonde hair swish across my upper back. Then,
reaching behind myself, I untied my bra. It sprung open and my eager
breasts popped out, quivering, my nipples deliciously stiff. I wanted
to rub myself, knew I mustn’t. With trembling hands I pushed down my
bikini panties. I felt the cool sea breeze against my blonde thatch.
My bra dangled from my neck, like a bib, my boobies wiggling
with the bra cups, useless now, flapping against them. I undid my bra
at my neck and let go of it with tweezer-like fingers, delicately,
watching as the light wind caught it and carried it away. It hit the
beach where the sand was soft and almost dry.
I reached down to the panties that hung from my thighs. Again
I felt the need to tickle my cunny, but I passed my hands on down to my
half-lowered panties. With careful fingers I undid the drawstrings. I
lofted the my panties into the air and watched them sail neatly to
within a few feet of my bra.
Then, worshipfully, I lay down on the wet sand. I pressed my
breasts into it. They were big for my age, they indented the sand
deeply, two magnificent scoops of white ice cream tumbling down into the
wet sand and making depressions there. I scooted forward a little to
press them even deeper. I snuggled into the sand, feeling its wetness.
I humped it briefly with my muff, wishing I had a penis to spear it
with, but having only my little lovelips. My clitty could not compete
with the big balls and penis of a male who I wished might lie down
beside me. I did not know who I wanted. A boy from my school in L.A.
perhaps, or my science teacher, or some stranger maybe, like the man I’d
seen at the airport, guarding us as we deplaned.
I opened my thighs. Murmuring to myself I lay upon the sand,
waiting, hoping someone might find me. Poseidon perhaps, or some other
mighty Trident-bearing god. He would see a sweet maiden lying in the
and and come to her rescue. She would not do any more homework. She
would watch Letterman all night if she wished.
Lying on the beach, I kissed the sand with my lips. Ick. I
got sand on my mouth. I brushed it from my lips and lay quietly again,
waiting, letting the sun caress my bare white hiney. I would get an all
over tan, perhaps, if I came down here enough mornings. Then, one day,
I’d boldly arrange for mom to see my bottom, and she would gasp at how
tanned it was, just like the rest of me. What? Had I been to a nudist
colony? When? How? I giggled. Then, with my eyelashes fluttering
closed, I tried to sleep and wait for some rescuer to find me. There
could be no fault on my part if I fell asleep, could there? I mean,
certainly, I’d chosen to come down here, but I was just a silly little
girl. If I fell asleep, though, that would be entirely out of my
hands. Ummmmmm, I thought to myself. Sleep, sleep, dream of sheep.
“Hi!” Rats. Somebody was interrupting my sleep. Yikes! That
meant somebody was HERE! I’d not fallen asleep, actually, just dozed
and let my mind wander. Now I opened my eyes and looked up with
embarrassment. “I’m Barbi,” a sweet, female voice said. I let my eyes
meet hers. She was a few years older than me, sixteen perhaps. A
fellow traveller? My blush faded a bit. It wasn’t too bad, just a girl
like me. Blonde, blue-eyed. With the brightest, sweetest smile you’d
ever want to see. I felt a sudden surge to BE her, not just look at
her. And she wore a little bikini, like I’d had on, until I’d taken it
off. Her breasts were big, too big, like mine. They trembled within
bra cups that were soft and flimsy, and small. I let my eyes travel
down over her smooth, slightly outcurved belly, with its dimpled navel,
and down, down to her (at last) bikini bottom. It was daringly teensy.
I thought I spotted a wisp or two of her pubic hair curling out the top
of it, there was so little fabric to the thing. Along one of the frail
ties of her undies I saw a pair of steel handcuffs. I gasped. They
were casually slung over the drawstring, pulling down on it a little,
due to their weight, and the flimsiness of her panties. Barbi tossed
her hair back from her eyes and knelt down beside me.
“Did you wash up on the beach?” she asked me brightly.
“No, I didn’t wash up on the beach,” I answered. My voice was
muffled by the pressing of my cheek into the sand.
“I know,” she grinned. “For three days my master has watched
you come down here and strip, and lie in the sand. He wanted you, but
he didn’t want me to be jealous. Finally, this morning, waking up and
finding him watching you, I told him it would be okay. I’d fetch you,
if you liked, and you could come over and play with us.”
I looked up at her. The word ‘master’ ricocheted inside my
head. She’d said it so casually, so normally, and I suspected she
didn’t even know she’d said it. There was just a man in her life who
was her master, whom she served, and that was that. I shivered upon the
sand. I felt like a jellyfish or a starfish about to be picked up by a
passing tourist.
Barbi put a hand on my bottom. “Master loves your ass,” she
said. She pressed a fingertip into my dimples, each of them, as if she
were testing it. Then, more daringly, she put two fingers on either
side of my hiney cheeks and prised them open, letting the sea breeze
enter me more deeply, more fully.
I know you’d think, WHAT?! You lay on the beach and let some
girl, older than you, prise open your asscheeks and bare your hole?
Well, it was strange, but I felt captive. I felt, ‘This isn’t me, I’m
not responsible. I’m just a little seashell, all pink inside, and I’m
incapable of resisting.’
And then a thought shot through me that frightened me. My
mother, leaning over the balcony of our rented beach house, calling out
to me. “Flurry!” (that’s what everyone called me.) “What are you
doing?! Come up here this minute!” And I’d be scolded severely for
lying naked on the beach, where anyone could see me. Or steal me. I’d
be berated for days for besmirching the family name (which, being
‘Grines,’ wasn’t particularly my favorite sort of family name, but was
one that she’d chosen to take and, consequently, had vowed to defend to
her dying breath.) And who was the little squirt who was the only
person in her life who could besmirch the glorious surname of ‘Grines?’
Why little me, of course, 13-year-old Flurry, with my naked little ass,
lying on the beach.
It was the thought of my mother discovering me that made me
speak up. “Okay,” I said, whispering, but I didn’t move. Barbi seemed
to understand.
“You’ll have fun,” she said simply. Then, “This will only take
a moment,” she added. She pulled the handcuffs from her bikini, nearly
tearing the drawstrings off, they were so fragile, and she lifted my
arms and positioned them wrist-on-wrist in the small of my back. Then
she placed the handcuffs on me and snapped them shut. “By the way, I
don’t have the key,” she said. I felt a tremor of fear then. I would
at least have to go wherever she’d come from now, even if I chose to go
home, in order to get the handcuffs off! I could just see myself
walking up to my mother, naked as a jaybird, with my hands cuffed behind
me, unopenable, saying, “Hi mom, guess what? The family name is now
naked and handcuffed (and a little wet too, I might add, right where it
counted).”
So when Barbi put a hand to my bare shoulder and told me to get
up I did it unhesitatingly. I needed these cuffs off, sooner or later,
if I was going to get back upstairs before mom discovered me missing.
“Do you want your bikini?” Barbi asked, still smiling, still
carefree, as we stood and made to walk up the beach.
“No,” I replied. Twice before I’d left it there. Yesterday my
mother had found my bra, not knowing it was mine. “A younger girl
must’ve worn this,” she said, for big as my breasts were they weren’t
women’s breasts, they were still the breasts of a girl. And she’d
wondered if she should call the police and report the ‘incident,’ as she
called it. “A girl might be missing,” she’d speculated. She’d kept my
bra as evidence, not knowing it was mine. The day before I’d watched
from my window as a man, jogging along the beach, had found my panties.
He’d picked them up, examined them, and then actually sniffed them!
Then he’d glanced around, guiltily, and stuffed them into the pocket of
his shorts. The funny thing was, he’d been so businesslike, so
self-absorbed, until he’d come across my panties lying ‘forgotten’ on
the beach. So now my third swimsuit lay discarded, in the soft sand.
And this time I’d be missing too, not just my swimsuit. I smiled to
myself as I imagined my mother going crazy. I’d peek out from Barbi’s
house later, perhaps, and watch the beach aswarm with policemen. Maybe
my picture would even be on T.V. I was pretty. Boys, seeing the
broadcast, would long to find me so they could have me for themselves.
Gently Barbi guided me up the beach. She kept her fingers
pressed lightly into the small of my back. I stepped with easy,
cautious steps. The sand was just starting to get hot from the sun.
She wore sandals, but I was barefoot. We did not go back the way I’d
come, but down the beach, just a little, and up a private stone path
into a tropical garden. She led me on, as I passed flowering plants and
tall, graceful palms, into a large white cement house.
Within it was cool. I gazed about me, still handcuffed, and
saw expensive furniture, and precious things from the beach, glass
balls, a collection of rare shells, seahorses preserved in glass and
mounted on the wall for display.
Barbi took me to the bathroom and brushed the sand off my tummy
and breasts. Like marshmallows, my bosoms quivered under her hands, my
tips hard as coral. She brushed off my flanks and then wet a washcloth
at the sink and passed it between my legs, over my thighs, my tummy, the
tips of my titties. “Let’s go upstairs,” she said finally.
Elegant in her bikini, stepping gracefully in her sexy heeled
sandals, she led me up a long staircase to the second floor. We went
into a bedroom. Still handcuffed, she escorted me to bed, where a man
waited for me, tall, with dark hair and a muscular chest. He sat
upright, a sheet drawn up to his waist. A huge spear rose from within
the sheet where I knew his legs met. I gazed at it, awed,
open-mouthed.
Barbi settled beside me. She untied her top, reaching behind
herself to get it undone, just like I had on the beach. Then she
slipped her panties down her thighs, finally undoing the drawstrings to
get them off without having to lift her ass up off her heels. Her feet
were bare now. She’d kicked off her beach pumps at the bedside.
Barbi leaned forward and took my face in her hands, kissed me
lightly on the mouth. “You’re so young, so sweet,” she complimented
me. Suddenly she had a can of whipped cream, passed to her by master,
and she held it poised over my breasts. “May I?” she asked. I looked
at the can, nodded, unknowingly. I squealed as she suddenly squirted a
dollop of cream onto each of my nipples. “Master likes his breakfast
properly prepared,” she said. She turned me and urged me forward to her
master, who sat waiting for my body. My bosoms were offered to him and
he sucked each in turn, me wiggling all the while, wanting to break
free, yet mesmerized, and squeaking like a mouse as I felt his powerful
lips work my bosom-tips. Was he a baby, this big man? Did he need me
to nurture him? I didn’t care. I was grateful for the attention. Not
to my grades, but to my ass, and my tits. I felt a thrill of
satisfaction as I thought of mom, wondering where I was, finding my
bikini, as this man sucked on me, for the first time in my life, and his
girlfriend slyly ran her finger down, down my spine and at last into the
curve of my asscrack.
I was helpless. I could do nothing in these handcuffs that
held my arms so firmly behind me. I was utterly His, this man’s,
whoever he was. Barbi urged herself closer to me and slipped a questing
hand over my tummy, then down between my legs. I shouted (I could not
help it) as she found my love bud and tickled it. I did not resist,
merely squirmed happily. She rubbed me lovingly, enjoying my
squirmings. I think she put a hand to herself too for soon we were both
panting with urgent desire. I could feel her breath on my cheek. Her
chin rested on my shoulder, her bosoms perked and pressed against my
small back. Before us master’s pecker loomed large, tempting. I wished
I could reach out and touch it. Suddenly he unfurled the sheet. I
gasped as his strong, long cock appeared before my amazed, virginal
eyes. We adjusted ourselves a little and I soon found myself bent right
over, Barbi still controlling all my movements, with my mouth placed
upon his penis. “She is virgin, please come in her mouth,” Barbi told
him. She’d felt my hymen, exploring me. I sucked upon his penis, so
strange, so new to my girl lips. Barbi kept massaging my twat, and her
own, bringing us together to the point of no return.
Bliss consumed me. I peaked into an unknown orgasm, Barbi
humping me from behind, bringing herself off simultaneously, as her
boyfriend jetted into my mouth. When we were done I sat up again,
unbent, in the bed, Barbi behind me, and her boyfriend, still sitting
before us, reached across to a nightstand and retrieved a key from a
drawer. It was small, gold-colored. He passed it to Barbi and she
unlocked my cuffs. Then, after letting me flex my arms a moment and
feel my newly-freed wrists, Barbi urged me from the bed. Before
departing, I leaned forward and gave ‘master’s’ prick a final little
kiss with my lips. Barbi took me to the bathroom and we quickly rinsed
off in the shower together, gazing at each other, our eyes lively and
bright. Then she took me downstairs, and tied me into a bikini of her
own. It was bigger than mine on the beach. She walked me home. When
we entered we found my mother sitting at the kitchen table.
“Oh! It’s you!” she said, looking up from her coffee. “What?
Were you out walking on the beach this early?” she asked. Then, her
words rapid-fire, “Who’s your friend?” and, finally: “Well, I’m glad to
see you finally have a DECENT bikini on. Those stringy little things
you bought at the gift shop in Rio were absolutely atrocious!”
I glanced at Barbi. We shared a smile. “May I go upstairs?” I
asked my mom. She asked again who my friend was, but I said nothing,
passed by, Barbi gave her a friendly little wave and accompanied me
upstairs.
“May I have my bikini back?” Barbi asked when we were in her
room, a conspiratorial smile on her lips. We plopped down onto my bed.
“May I have my virginity back?” I asked.
“You were never with a man before, were you?” she asked. She
had not taken my virginity, of course. I was just teasing her.
“No, I wasn’t,” I replied. Then, mimicking a cartoon T.V.
voice I added, “Thanks, I needed that.”
Barbi laughed. “I figured you did, lying naked on the beach
like that! It was pretty obvious.”
“Could we...” I fumbled for words. “I mean, he’s your
boyfriend but...”
Barbi put a finger to my lips. “Whenever you wish,” she
answered. “We’re practically best friends now, don’t you think?”
“But I,” I answered hedgingly. How could I say I was too shy
to just present myself at their door, half-naked (or more!) asking to be
fucked.
“I’ll call on you,” Barbi said. “Without my boyfriend, of
course. I don’t think your mother would understand.”
“No,” I agreed, nodding.
“We’re having a party tonight,” she said. “Indoors, in
bikinis, of course. I’ll pick you up and you can wear your naughtiest
one and impress ALL the men, not just my master.”
“Ooohh,” I breathed. There was frustration on my face. “I
don’t know, my mother, she’s hard to get around.”
“Well, we’ll just be friends for now then,” Barbi said. “I’ll
come back this afternoon maybe, here, let’s exchange numbers.” So we
wrote down our phone numbers on my Hello Kitty pad, and, after a bit
more talking, she left, her ass swaying most noticeably and disagreeably
before my mother’s eyes as she walked out the door.
“Hmmm, that girl is certainly well-developed for such a young
teen,” my mother harumphed over her Mocha Coffee.
“She’s sixteen, mom,” I answered. I wore cutoffs and a
t-shirt, hastily pulled on.
“Why was she carrying that nice bikini of yours?” my mother
asked.
“She wanted to try it,” I lied.
“Well, she could definitely use a bigger one herself, you BOTH
could. I’ll have your father take us into town this morning. Are you
sure you don’t want to go back to wearing a one-piece? I hear they’re
all the rage this year.”
“No mom, I don’t,” I answered. ‘Imagine taking a one-piece off
on the beach!’ I thought. Not the sexiest thing to wear, or to get in
and out of, on the beach in the morning or in Barbi’s boyfriend’s bed.
When Barbi came by that afternoon, I was gone. Guess where I
was? In a swimsuit shop in Montevideo, looking for an ‘appropriate’
one-piece with my mom and dad. Even my dad was getting bored with all
this, checking his watch now and then, the one with the clever red snake
that wound its way around the gold watchband. I liked my dad’s watch,
my dad too, although, of course, he was my father. The watch looked
ordinary enough, but if you looked closely at its gold (plated) band,
there was a very slim red snake that cut its way through the band, all
the way around, with its rattlesnake tail poised upward at the very tip,
as if just lifting to strike. I leaned close to my dad and pulled back
his suit and his long shirtsleeve and studied the snake on his watch. I
think I was feeling ‘men-oriented’ this morning. He felt me pressing
against him but ignored me. I was just a little girl to him, although
he had remarked to my mother once that I ‘seemed to be getting awfully
heavy in the chest.’ She’d mentioned something about ‘breast-reduction
operations,’ and how she wished she’d fed me pills as a child to prevent
and suppress thelarche. I can still remember my mom reading from a big
white book in the living room. “If your daughter undergoes puberty
prematurely, it is important not to respond to her according to her
physical appearance. Keep treating her like the little girl she is,”
she would declare, loudly and with a sense of definiteness that was
almost obsessive. She’d add something about the need to “keep giving me
hugs,” but I sensed that was just thrown in to alleviate the Hitler-like
stance the book took on controlling me. Never mind that my mom had
spent her youth smoking dope, rebelling, and being courted by men twice
her age, even when she was 13 and 14. She’d ‘seen the world,’ as she
coyly put it, and decided, when she was older and no longer attractive,
that I needed to be ‘held back’ to keep herself ‘front and center,’ as
it were. She didn’t mention the ‘front and center’ part, but I added it
in, these days, knowing a little more. Plus I’d been reading Seventeen
lately, and letters printed from other girls, and they clued me in as to
what my mother was really up to. I kept the magazines hidden from mom.
She thought I should still be reading Jack and Jill. “Don’t you like
the nice puzzles, dear?” she ask. “Why, this one has Beauty and the
Beast in it. You like Beauty and Beast, don’t you?”
“Dear, this is taking an awful lot of time,” my father said
irritably to my mom, with me pressing against him, surreptitiously
feeling his arm, his torso, with a new sense of awareness. I liked the
bigness of him beside me. I studied his watch less closely now, just
enjoying the feel of him beside me. “Don’t you’ll rumple my suit,” he
said abruptly, pushing me away. Mom stood before a rack of one-piece
swimsuits, trying to find one “without all those flashy patterns on it,”
as she declared.
“Look at this one! It actually says ‘Bitchin’ in small letters
over the breast!” she exclaimed.
“No one will see it. Buy the damn thing if you like it,” dad
replied.
“I DON’T like it!” she answered. “Boys do look at your
daughter’s chest, dear, don’t you realize that? What do you think will
cross their minds if they see this word over it?”
“Well, find one that doesn’t have that word!” he snapped.
“I’m still not satisfied,” she replied. “Look at this one
here! ‘hot tramp’ it says, and this one, right on the butt it says “I’m
yours,” with an arrow shot through a heart!”
“Mom, I’ve quit wearing one-pieces,” I answered. I felt
sullen. This was stupid. ‘My summer vacation, spent in stores looking
for swimsuits I no longer wore.’”
“The baby swimsuits are down in the next isle!” my dad
declared. He stormed out of the store and, at last, my mother followed
him, with me in tow, just as two great-looking dudes came into the store
looking for surfboards. I was forced to leave them behind. They looked
at my behind as I left, making me feel awkward, yet wishing, too, that
my mom would have stayed just a little longer, so I could see if they’d
have the guts to come up and talk to me.
The next morning I woke early, wondering if Barbi and her
boyfriend had enjoyed their party. It was still dark. I glanced out my
bedroom window opposite the sea and saw the moon setting, turning bright
orange as it set behind the inland mountains. I slipped into my
bikini. I still had several of them left. I’d bought more in Rio than
mom had realized. I found the one that said ‘Pretty Baby’ on it. I
liked that. It made me feel small and special, but sexy too. Just like
I wanted to. I slipped downstairs, my feet noiseless as liquid flowing
downhill. I crept out the beach-side door and headed barefoot down for
my special communion with the sand.
I walked along the beach in the darkness. Now and then I
glanced over my shoulder, looking, wondering if the Boogey-Man might be
following me. The sand felt silk-soft under my feet. When I came
parallel to Barbi’s house I sat down on the sand, and hunched over,
drawing my knees up, feeling the length of my bare arms and legs, and
the pillowy softness of my breasts as my knees indented them. After a
minute I reached back behind myself and untied my bra. I dropped it
noiselessly on the sand beside me. I leaned back and counted stars
awhile, waiting for sun to come up, feeling my tits rise and fall with
my breath. Later, I undid the ties of my drawers, but I remained
sitting still, with my bikini still on until I should get up. I hoped
the Boogey-Man didn’t appear suddenly, for I might wish to retain my
panties, and having to rise suddenly, I wouldn’t have the time. He’d
see my nakedness, not just my breasts but my pussy.
A figure dropped beside me in the sand. I started, was about
to jump up, then suddenly realized it was Barbi’s boyfriend. He was
bare except for a little pair of Speedos.
“Do you swim in the morning?” he asked. He glanced at me. He
was much bigger than me. His eyes flashed.
“Not usually,” I answered. “I don’t want to get wet.”
“What happened to your bra?” he asked.
“I took it off.”
“Because?”
“I don’t know. I just felt like it.”
“You’re right underneath my bedroom window this morning.”
“Yeah, I’m so modest,” I replied.
“You are,” he answered. He put a hand on my shoulder, then ran
it down my back. He brushed my swim panties, making them fall off my
bottom like a leaf whose time was due to fall from the tree. “I
wouldn’t like you if you weren’t modest. There’s nothing wrong with
taking a morning swim in the nude.”
“Provided you’re 45,” I answered. That would be my mom’s
opinion, anyway. She was 45. Suddenly I sprang up and grabbed some
sand. It was still moist from the outdrawing sea. I lifted a clingy
chunk of it and plopped it right into the front of Barbi’s boyfriend’s
Speedos. “There you go, sir,” I teased. “Now see how modest I am!” I
felt the lissome nakedness of my body as I knelt between his legs, my
panties gone now, abandoned on the beach with my bra. His cock stood up
suddenly within his trunks, straining them, and the sand made him look
even more stunningly endowed than he actually was, his big balls hanging
down, protruding into the front of the suit, his penis, snake-like,
pushing against the fabric, threatening to tear it. “There! How
comfortable does that feel?” I asked. “Your dick all covered with
sand!” I laughed. His laugh joined mine. He rose up, taking me with
him, and suddenly I found myself holding hands with him, walking toward
the waves, with the first rays of dawn just rising over the horizon.
“I’m obviously going to have to rinse out my suit,” he said.
“And, since you put the sand in, you can scoop it back out, and make
sure it’s all off my cock too, since, as you said, it’s not the most
comfortable way for a man to enjoy his morning swim.”
“What if I don’t want to?” I tested him, though I let him hold
my hand, and squeezed his a little too, as if to make sure he didn’t let
go.
“Oh, you’ll want to,” he said, gazing down at me suddenly, his
eyes hot. I felt my wiggly seat behind me, all naked and defenseless,
and a thrill ran up my spine that he might bend me over in the waves and
punish me with his big hands, slapping my bottom, making me cry out,
perhaps so mom could hear me! But we kept walking, quietly, as the
water rose up to my pussy, then to my tummy, to his loins, and finally
we settled into the gentle morning waves and he drew my small hands to
his Speedos and made me investigate within. I pulled out the sand,
enjoying myself. I teased him that there was a snake in his trunks and
pulled out his long penis.
“Don’t mention snakes,” he said to me, absently, as if he’d
warned other girls of the same thing, and was used to doing it.
“Why not?” I asked. “The snake brought Eve the apple.”
“It’s a personal thing,” he said.
“Mmmm,” I felt the length of his penis and had a sudden urge to
feel it snaking up within me, right up to my belly, but I was scared, so
scared to ask. Instead I just let my hands run over it, up and down its
important length, I touched the knob as if it were a jewel atop a
sceptre, with the pee hole the most fabulous part of all. “What will
you do if I go home this morning and tell mommie that you abused me?”
He laughed. It was high pitched and eery at first, then it
slowly deepened, frightening me, until it was low and very somber. He
took me by my small shoulders and kissed me with a sudden passion. “You
needn’t worry about that,” he answered at last. “The police work for me
here. I pay them better than the government does. Protecting me is
their main job. Their police work is just, shall we say,
‘moonlighting.’”
I looked at him for a long time as the sun rose in the
distance, lighting the sky. “Do you fear nothing?” I asked at last. He
gazed at me with clear eyes, seemingly feeling free with me like he
couldn’t with any woman. I was just a girl, after all. Even he was
biased. I meant nothing, except for my body, and my cute expressions.
He could speak freely with me.
“Yes,” he said. “There is a rival gang. Once I thought I’d
wiped it out completely, and not too long ago, at that. I had to rescue
Barbi from its clutches. It’s run by a woman with an odd name, Miss
Tuppence. You’ve never heard of her, of course. But she had an ally,
one I wasn’t aware of at the time, and now they’ve very much come to her
rescue. They’ve come after me, and I must be careful. They’re old
enemies, from long ago. I worked for them once, but, in they’re mind, I
betrayed them. It’s nothing like that, really. They screwed me and I
left. But, ever since, they’ve been after me. And now they truly do
want me dead, after years of letting the matter rest. Ms. Tuppence has
enlisted them to wipe me out, and they’re very good at that sort of
thing, if they really put their mind to it. Their people wear gold
watches with a snake etched into the watch band. If you ever see anyone
walking around with a watch like that, let me know. Probably, even if
you were standing next to such a person, you wouldn’t notice the snake
if you looked at their watch band. But sometimes, if the light catches
it just right, or you look really closely, you’ll see the snake. So I
mention that to you. Beware of that, since we’re seeing each other
now. Let me know if such a person ever comes into your life.”
My tummy felt odd and cold. I shivered in the water, my eyes
big as fishes’ eyes. He kissed me again, not noticing my fright, or
mistaking it for the apprehension of a virgin. At last he rose, his
cock huge in the morning sun. He yanked up his shorts. “Come,” he
said, taking my hand. “I must leave before the sun grows too bright.”
I noticed that his skin was fairly white, with perhaps just the lightest
tan, and that perhaps from some special tanning booth, not the sun. He
drew me from the waves. I gripped his hand tightly, afraid to let go,
afraid not to. Now I knew why my father had rented this beach house for
the summer in Montevideo. He was an expert marksman, though he rarely
displayed his skill, and persistently avoided talking or boasting about
it. Was he here to kill my newfound lover? My father, versus Barbi’s
boyfriend? I felt wet and cold and shivery. I could not betray my
father to this man who walked beside me. I could feel his hand upon
mine, gripping me with a steel-like strength that spoke volumes about
his powers, his abilities, his fearlessness and his heartlessness.
Barbi had mentioned, briefly, something about him being connected to
drugs. I glanced up. He walked tall, boldly, his eyes gazing ahead,
lost in thought on something I knew nothing about. Yes. That would be
him. Above most men and definitely above the law. He would kill my own
father without a second thought, and fuck me afterwards for good
measure. Yet, I loved him, his strength, and our intimacy. And my
father, I knew, was here to kill him.
What could I do? I reached the place where my swimsuit lay and
he insisted on picking it up, tying it back onto me, though I resisted.
“Would you like to come up to the house?” he asked. His cock was hard,
heavy in his trunks. “No...yes,” I said at last.
Impulsively he turned me around. He straightened the seat of
my panties even as he said, “If we go up to the house I’m going to bend
you right over and fuck you up your small, sweet ass.” I felt my
derriere quiver, my back, my thighs. I knew what must be done. I must
give myself to this man, run away with him, and hope my father never
caught me, never found me. I would urge him to leave this place,
Montevideo, where he thought he was so safe because he’d paid off the
police. I couldn’t tell him everything, of course, but I’d whine and
complain about the weather (or something) until we went away together,
far from my stalking father, who intended to track him down and kill
him.
“Okay,” I said at last. My voice was quiet, mouse-like, in the
still morning air on this windless beach, where the wind had not risen
up with the sun this day, but had lain quiet, as if tensed, waiting for
an approaching storm.
Master cast his eyes toward the sea. Ah, I loved the sudden
intrusion of that word into my vocabulary. ‘Master,’ just what Barbi
delighted in calling him. “There could be rain this morning,” he said,
studying the clouds. “Will your mother miss you for an hour or so if
you spend the time in my bedroom?”
“No,” I answered, trance-like. I thought I felt a drop of
water hit my shoulder. Another, seconds later, touched down upon my
breast. Rain. It would drizzle down this morning, keeping people under
their bedcovers. “She’ll stay in bed and my father will fuck her,” I
said easily.
“Then we must not be outdone,” he replied. He took me round
the waist and we walked together up the beach to his house. We showered
off under a little shower outdoors, delighting in the too-cool spray,
discarding our swimsuits so the water could clean us completely of the
ocean’s salt and sand. Then we stalked upstairs, not wanting to be
heard. He said there were other females in the house, though Barbi, as
always, slept with him now, in his bed. I affrighted a little at the
thought of other girls being present, but it made sense, I decided
finally. He was too beautiful, too powerful, to limit himself to just
one. Or two, for that matter, Barbi or me. I felt selfish and wanted
him all to myself, but knew it couldn’t be so.
“I’m going to just test you a little in behind,” he said,
calmly, cooly, as we reached his bedroom. Our entrance awoke Barbi and,
seeing me, her eyes danced. “I don’t want to take your virginity, not
yet, anyway. I’ll let you keep that awhile, til you’re sure, you know.
Sure that you want to give it to me.” I admired his discretion. “Let’s
see how your ass is, though. I won’t force it. We have perhaps an
hour, hmmm? We’ll take the time easily, slowly, and see how far up I
can get inside you. The last thing I need is a girl with a bleeding
anus. If I can’t get too far in, it’s okay, but I’ll try for an hour,
just pushing, slowly, back and forth, seeing...you know?” he spoke like
a doctor, all the while caressing me, moving me slowly onto the bed, and
at last bending me over on it, my knees upon the sheets and my face
pressed down into a pillow. He arched up behind me and let Barbi, who
was fully awake now, get vaseline and lube up both our parts, his penis
and my hole. Him to spear, me to receive. I felt an enormous pressure
then, playful at first, then more urgent, against my nether hole. I had
no intention of ever going home, but I didn’t want to be hurt. I let
him think he must take me slowly, so as to be able to send me home
afterward without my mom or dad noticing anything.
Agonizingly, broaching my fear even as me made me more afraid,
Master pushed his huge boytoy penis against my dimpled anus. I
received, feeling his peehole finally get inside, then more of his
knobbed plum, and more still, riding up to the very crest of his knob at
last, the flange, the part after which he would abruptly narrow.
“If you can take the knob the rest will be easy,” Barbi urged
me. She petted my hair, as if perhaps a female dog. I was a little
bitch, wasn’t I? A bitch in heat. Barbi seemed to have a predator’s
urge to see me taken, to see me lose my anal cherry and become like her,
a woman. I must someday, mustn’t I? Why not now?
I pushed my heinie back at him suddenly. Startled, I felt him
give way. Him! Giving way to little me! Despite my anxiousness I
tried to relax my bottom.
“Hurt me, master, if you must,” I pleaded. “”Take me now! I’m
yours! Fuck me right up the butt!” my voice was high-pitched, excited.
I wanted him to do me before I could back out. “Fuck me now, master!
I’m not going home! I’ll never leave you! Fuck me and make me yours
forever!”
“Bleed her,” Barbi urged, incited by the prospect of my
denouement. I froze at her words, but I kept my bottom cheeks open.
Even though I began to shake from my heinie on down, my legs quivering,
my hips shaking, I did not try to close myself to him.
“Yes,” I begged. “Fuck me! Even if I bleed. I’m yours,
master. I belong to you.” And then I squeezed my eyes shut tight. I
bit into the corner of my pillow. I tensed, waited, knowing I was
narrowing my passage but hoping he could break through somehow anyway.
“What?” I heard him asked. His voice sounded high, startled.
“What are you doing? You’re taking control of my cock?”
“Yessss,” I said, urgently. I strove to push my asscrack deep
against his stiff prong. Behind me I heard Barbi coax him. She placed
a hand on his buttocks and caressed them and pushed him into me, her own
finger exploring his hole even as he drove into mine. (All this I
learned from simply listening, hearing them talk, exchange opinions. He
told her to get her finger out of his hole and she said no, I must be
taken, I must be his. Because I wanted it. Not because he wanted it,
but because I wanted it. This blew his mind.)
“No! I am not going to be played with like this,” he gritted.
“I am the man, I do not take orders from women!” He swore about Ms.
Tuppence, I think it was she who was making him crazy. He said she was
ruining his drug trade and now his own whore and a 13-year-old were
claiming his genitals for themselves, even if it hurt them, even if it
made them bleed.
I felt him spurt, uselessly, against my bottomhole. Barbi,
sensing she could reduce his lust for me (after all, we females are
competitive), clapped her free hand to his balls and squeezed him
vigorously to make him lose all his seed, even as she inquired teasingly
inside his butthole.
“No! No! No! No!” he yelped. But it was no use. With
virgin assflesh in front of him, and Barbi at his side, he shot all he
had to give. When I rolled over a few minutes later, wet in behind but
otherwise unviolated, seating myself in the soft sheets, he was limp.
All of his manly pride and vigor was gone and he had nothing, absolutely
nothing, left to give. For a minute I thought I was looking at Howard
Stern, his penis was so small. He rose from where he sat on the bed and
glared at me, at Barbi, with a viciousness that made us both extremely
frightened. He was under terrible stress, I guessed, his business
collapsing, a lifetime of effort gone because he got into a battle with
Ms. Tuppence over Barbi. He swore at us and her too, told her how she
had ruined his empire.
“Because I loved you more than my business,” he said to her.
“Always I told myself, the girls are just an amusement. They come with
the territory. And then you and those other tarts, those other sweet
tarts, too sweet, were stolen from me by Ms. Tuppence. I should not
have cared. I should have let you go. But I didn’t, did I? For the
first time in my life I decided to fight for something not directly
related to my business. And you saw what happened. I lost every man I
had, every man except myself. And now she, that devil bitch ‘Ms.
Tuppence,’ as she likes to call herself, has new allies, and she is
going to RUIIN me!” he cried, lifting his fists to the ceiling.
And you know what? In my fear, almost peeing in the bed (in
HIS bed!) I was so afraid...in my fear I loved him even more. He was
tall, lanky, strong, and he was so visibly wounded, the wounds from his
battle with Ms. Tuppence, to regain Barbi, his love, the girl who was
his love but whom he could not call, ‘my love,’ because he was too
proud. And now me, I was his love too, probably even more than Barbi
(at least I hoped!) And not only was he facing Ms. Tuppence, poor man.
He was facing my father! And he didn’t even know.
He whirled upon me with a sudden menace, coiling, like a snake,
his hands upraised, his teeth bared to me, ready to strike. “You at
least can go!” he snarled at me. “Get out! Get out of my bed right now
and go! I have too many females already.”
God, how I feared him, and loved him too! I wanted to cry.
And I almost did, but I controlled myself at the last moment, knowing if
I burst into tears he would dismiss me as a mere child. Instead I leapt
at him, I grabbed him before he could grab me. I pressed my flesh into
his, I wriggled with all the jiggly curves I had to offer pressed
alluringly against him. “I’m sorry, master!” I said. And I kissed his
hairy chest. I licked his nipple. And I pushed my cunny against his
shriveled cock and rubbed my private parts to his like a bitch wanting a
pregnancy.
He dropped his hands to my ass and squeezed my hind cheeks so
hard I yelped. I could feel him boiling inside. He breathed hard, his
breath rasping. “If you stay,” he said, his breath rasping. “If you
stay you will be made to serve me. Do you understand? I am not your
father. I am not your boyfriend. You will serve me, MY needs, not
yours.” Forcefully he yanked apart my asscheeks and I almost shouted, I
felt so abruptly, violently opened, spread apart. I could feel the cool
air whistling dixie in my wrenched open butthole. I thought at any
moment Barbi might stab her finger into it and claim my cherry for
herself. ‘First In,’ as the Airborne guys say.
“I’m yours,” I said, quietly, so that only he could hear it.
Barbi, sitting on the bed, watched us like a cat, wishing she could play
my role, I’ll bet.
“Alright,” he answered. He pushed me from him. “You’ve
agreed. And you know I am above the law. Here, I am the law. You have
now agreed to my terms.” He looked at me almost hopefully, perhaps
wishing I’d bolt from his bedroom, and run home before we were truly
settled on the matter. But, feeling frisky, not wanting anything more
to do with my mother, I bent down and kissed his feet. He watched in
awe as my naked ass rose up behind me, my cheeks still quivering from
how he’d handled me there. I kissed each of his toes in turn. It was
my choice, and he knew it, and he swore over me, knowing I was taking
control again, even as I submitted myself to him. “You do not know what
you have gotten into, but you have agreed,” he said aloud, as if
pronouncing sentence on me. “Stand up and receive me.”
I looked up. He was hard again! Just like that, I’d made him
stiff. He had me lift up my head, still on my knees, and receive his
penis in my mouth. Barbi, quick with a kleenex, insisted on daubing him
with a touch of champagne before he shoved himself into my mouth. How
lucky I was that they’d shared breakfast in bed before he’d come down to
the beach! I swear, if the champagne had not been handy, the bottle
sitting nearly empty on the bedside nightstand, he would have shoved his
shit-daubed cock directly into my mouth.
As it was, I took a freshly washed champagne cock in my mouth.
He still felt reserved about me, and just let me suck the tip of his
spear, not gagging me on it, until at last I received his seed in my
mouth and gulped it down. Then, my lips appreciatively wet, smacking
them to make Barbi jealous, I stood. He bade me to stand and had Barbi
get a small length of leather string from the nightstand.
“This is your collar,” Barbi told me. “You do not deserve a
real collar yet. You must be trained first. For now, you will wear
this,” she told me, glancing at Master to ensure she had his approval
for every word she said. I nodded, feeling scared again, but relishing
my nudity. He stared at me, a mere 13-year-old, as if I were a
full-grown girl in Penthouse! My nipples wiggled and I gazed at him
with fey innocence as Barbi tied the “junior collar” around my neck. It
was a mere string, nothing more, made of rawhide. Rawhide on my raw
body.
Barbi kissed me on the lips when she was done tying me into my
collar. I felt like a puppy. Master, truly my master now, bent and
kissed my lips too. “Now, as your first lesson, you must buckle Barbi
into her collar,” master told me. “I have let her have unwarranted
liberties here, in these last few days, because, frankly, I was obsessed
with you lying on the beach in the mornings. She made me let her take
her collar off, because, of course, if you’d been approached by a girl
wearing a collar you might have run away.”
“I might have,” I replied. “She had handcuffs slung through
her bikini, but I might have been freaked out if she’d been wearing a
collar!”
“Well now you get to fasten it on,” master instructed. “Go get
it out of the night table.” I went to the nightstand as she stood and
embraced him. I felt jealous, yet lucky, to be in such strange
company. What would my mom think now? I’ll bet she never bedded a drug
lord! I turned around, waited, and at last they separated. I walked up
to Barbi and, with a vindictive gleam in my eyes, buckled a simple black
dog’s collar around her slim throat.
“This is for you,” I told her. Master retrieved a key from
someplace nearby and handed it to me. It was small, golden. “Lock it
and she won’t be able to get it undone,” he told me. I saw that the end
of the collar had, upon being buckled, fitted through something that had
a keyhole in it. Sticking my tongue into the corner of my mouth,
wanting to make sure I got this right, I put the key into the tiny
lockhole and twisted it. Click! Somewhere inside, a mechanism locked
down on the collar. Now she was truly master’s. He pulled both of us
close. Placing a warm, huge palm on each of our squirming bottoms, he
kissed us. I wanted him to take me right there, but he said there was
no time. He ordered us both to the shower.
In the master bathroom there was a tub and, beside it, just
across the tiled floor, a little shower cubicle. Master turned on the
tub water for himself to soak in and told us both to get into the
cubicle. Barbi must have known already what to do for she led me into
the cubicle, then left the door open so he could watch.
Instead of turning on the shower, Barbi got a brass pail that
was sitting on a bench in the bathroom and filled it under a faucet.
The faucet was low to the ground, just outside the cubicle. Master
seemed to drink in her asscheeks as she knelt and filled the pail, so
sweetly heartshaped, so deliciously offered to his view as he sank into
the rapidly-filling tub.
Barbi wet me down, then herself, dumping the pail over each of
us. The water was ice cold! I screamed as I felt it hit my warm, comfy
body. To go from a warm bed to this! Master laughed to himself,
enjoying my discomfort.
“That’s--that’s enough! I’m wet enough!” I cried, as Barbi
went to fetch an obligatory second pail for me.
“This is nothing, honey,” Barbi told me frankly. “Compared to
what’s to come.”
“N-Nooo,” I pleaded.
“Are you going to run away now, just because of some icewater?”
master taunted me. I think he really did want to see me flee. And I
almost did, seeing that second bucketful of glacier-cold water coming
toward me. But, at the last moment, I balled my fists, shut my eyes,
and counted to ten. ‘Don’t look like a little girl,’ I told myself.
‘Don’t be a little baby.’
“Ready?” Barbi asked. Why couldn’t she just dump the bucket?
Why did she have to torment me with it?
I hunched my shoulders. I felt very naked. My breasts bulged
between my inward-squeezing arms.
“No,” I breathed, and held my breath. I expected the water to
come splooshing down.
“Ready?” Barbi asked, a little insistent now. Her arms, I
guessed, were starting to tremble as she held that heavy bucket aloft
over me.
“No,” I answered. Alright, Barbi, let’s play your game, your
way. Can you hold the bucket forever? I doubt it.
I heard the bucket set down behind me. Had I won? Slowly I
opened my eyes. Suddenly Barbi grabbed me by the hair.
“Yeeow!” I cried as she dragged me over to the toilet. She sat
right down on it, even though she didn’t have to go, even though the
cover was up. She tossed me over her slim model’s thighs and slapped my
bottom hard.
“Oooh! Oooch! Yeowch!” I blurted, as she gave me three swift
cracks with her palm right across my heinie. Master laughed heartily,
loving our impromptu entertainment.
“You WILL take the bucket,” Barbi, shivering herself from her
own first-bucket dousing, told me.
“Okay, okay!” I replied, gasping. She drew me up off her lap
and marched me back to the little cubicle of torture. She picked up the
bucket, asked again if I was ready, and this time I answered, quite
meekly, ‘yes.’
Whoosh! Down came that second dreaded bucket. When all the
water had been emptied from it, Barbi went to the faucet, filled it once
more, and, as I stood freezing, squeezing myself with my arms and
admiring her fortitude, she hefted the bucket over hear pretty head and
wet herself with it. Then, shivering as deeply as I, she returned to
the safety of the cubicle with me. There we soaped each other, and
finally turned on hot water to rinse off. It was my first test. I
passed with flying colors. Master was proud of me.
Barbi and I stood at the sink after our shower and washed our
bikinis in specially softened water. Anna brought mine up from the
yard, introduced herself, and gave Barbi her own bikini (which had lain
in the yard since yesterday when Barbi had cast if off for a moonlight
swim with master.) As master continued to enjoy his bath, Barbi and I,
working diligently, scrubbed our little bikinis so they’d be nice and
fresh for him. While we worked, Barbi began to tell me what was in
store for me as a loveslave in master’s house.
“You must be trained,” she said. “You will do all sorts of
things for master. Whatever he asks, and whenever he asks it.
Promptly. Don’t hesitate. You aren’t at home any more. Here master
rules, and you obey. I love serving my master, and he loves me because
I serve him.” Her voice was sugary-soft. Her words caressed me. I
glanced at master, wishing I could know I would obey him. But I
didn’t. I’d been spoiled all my life. I might at any moment become
rebellious, like with the water, such a simple thing. And yet I’d
rebelled.
“I’m going to take you both into the country,” master
interrupted. “You need training yourself, Barbi, and you certainly,
Fury.”
“Fury?” I asked. My eyes lifted up from my work.
“It is your new name,” he answered. “You are bold. And it is
good, for you must be bold, where I am taking you, for your training.
Whenever the going gets rough, remember the nickname I’ve given you.
Fury. In this way you will become a woman. Stronger than me perhaps,
someday. But for now, to learn to lead you first must follow.”
“H-How?” I asked. This business of being ‘taken someplace’ was
new to me. We must leave Montevideo, certainly. We were too close to
my mom, and especially my dad. But what did he mean by it all?
“You will be made to do things you might rebel against,” he
said, his voice deep, as he lolled in the bath with his prong just
rising, inspired anew.
“Oooh! I know what that means!” Barbi said, wiggling her
heinie.
“What?” I asked.
“Nevermind,” she answered. “You’ll know soon enough. But I
survived it, so don’t worry. Training, I mean. Master, what special
place are you taking us to?”
“You will see,” he answered. “I make the rules from now on.
But, as a hint, I’d advise you both to pack a pillow.”
“I can sneak home and get my sleeping bag if it’s needed,” I
offered. I remembered a fun overnight trip in fourth grade, sleeping
outside. I’d gotten my first kiss from a boy that night, and spent the
next three days sleepless, worrying I’d have to tell mom I was pregnant.
“You won’t need the pillow for sleeping, silly,” Barbi told
me. “Hmmm, dear?” Her eyes darted to master. I saw her bottom shiver.
Her bare bottom, so lovely and unprotected, like mine, as we stood
before master, washing our swimsuits.
“That’s right. You’ll want it for sitting down on,” master
answered.
What could I say? I wanted to blurt out, ‘You fool! You think
you’re in charge of me, but my dad’s trying to kill you!’ But I said
nothing. I wouldn’t be his then, not with that kind of ‘heat’ bearing
down upon him. He’d forget all about me, I’d never see him again. And
my dad (whom I loved) might well be dead by nightfall. No, to protect
both the men in my lives, I could say nothing. Perhaps the name master
had given me, Fury, wasn’t such a bad name after all.
30
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