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From: Andrew Roller <roller39@IDT.NET>
Subject: Bush League part 1 of 6 (NND)
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_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
BUSH LEAGUE
_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
Chapter One
I was being held captive in a castle by my boyfriend. His
name’s Louis. It’s every girl’s fantasy, I suppose. Or at least, it
was mine. I think. Sometimes these things just happen. At least I had
my friend Polly to keep me company. She’s such a baby. We both had
just received our first real whipping, the night before, and Polly had
been told to count off the strokes. She lost track of the numbers.
That, at least, is what Rose told me. She’s our mistress. She makes
sure we get our ‘just desserts,’ so to speak, and I was just thinking of
turning Polly into a dessert when Rose interrupted us in the kitchen.
“There you are!” Rose said to us. I was standing with a can of
whipped cream in my hand, with Polly laid out on the kitchen table,
waiting, and Andre and Louis each standing alongside the table, letting
her fondle their cocks. We were all quite naked. “You girls have an
appointment with child protective services,” Rose told Polly and I.
“I’m sorry, men, but the girls have got to go into town,” she told our
boyfriends. They looked quite dejected, suddenly, despite the fact that
Polly still was playing with their penises. “You didn’t think you could
just steal these girls away from their parents without somebody snooping
about, did you?” she asked them. “Be realistic, men. Even in Argentina
someone’s bound to hop about when parents call in about their missing
daughters. Especially such young teens as these. The fact that your
girlfriends are each blessed with big bosoms doesn’t change the fact
that they’re both just 13 and 14. Be glad this is Argentina, not
America. I’ve arranged for a sympathetic interview. With luck, they
may be back by afternoon.” Gently but firmly Rose disengaged our adult
boyfriend’s members from Polly’s small hands. Their pricks quivered
with their need.
“God, let us just cum, then,” Louis groaned, and I was
surprised to see him beg. Usually he was quite manly, suppressing his
need, letting us play with him until we were ready.
“You’ve already gone twice this morning,” Polly scolded him,
rising from the table and whacking his cockhead with her erect pointing
finger. She winced as she felt the effects of the whipping on her
bottom. The pain lingered still, though it was a fuller, more beautific
pain now, if you let yourself think about it a certain way. It sort of
glowed over my bottom, and hers too, I imagine, except where the single
weal I’d been given still made a knot of unremitting sharpness within my
skin.
Polly scooted herself down off the kitchen table and patted her
bottom with both her hands to try to brush away the pain. We weren’t
bruised or anything, as I’ve heard sometimes happens to women. We’d
just been given good paddlings, that’s all, but with some fearsome
implements. They’d scored our heinies but been kept from really hurting
us. Rose had a sheepish hand when it came to disciplining a girl. She
tried to be rough and tough but her gentle side always won out. This I
was to learn in more detail at my appointment.
“Don’t blame me. They just called,” Rose said to our
boyfriends about child protective services. She hustled Polly and I out
of the kitchen and upstairs to my bedroom where, laid out on clean
sheets were prim schoolgirl uniforms. “It’s a school day, girls, in
case you didn’t notice,” Rose smiled at Polly and I. “Get dressed
quickly and try not to put too much makeup on. I need you both to look
like innocents, not whores.”
We nodded. She made us both visit the tub first. We did each
other’s bottoms, since they were still quite sore from last night. Then
we slipped into our new clothes and raced each other down the front
staircase and out to Rose’s limo.
Rose did not accompany us. I have a sneaking suspicion she
stayed behind to attend to Louis and Andre’s penises. After all, they’d
both been sporting huge erections, and at a place like Rose’s, nicknamed
Cunt Castle, they were sure to find some female to relieve themselves
in. People seemed to come and go quite regularly. Rose was always
entertaining new guests. And then there were her special guests, like
Polly and I, kept for days there just because she liked us and felt we
were especially pretty. I wondered if she were a lesbian. I mean, she
couldn’t be, could she? Rose liked men as much as she liked girls and
women. I guess she liked all the flavors of the rainbow, sexually.
But, as I was soon to learn, she was just getting started in this sort
of play.
“It hurts to sit on my bottom,” Polly told me. “Especially for
long periods.”
“You sat on the chaise lounge out by the pool okay,” I told
her. Rose had supplied the limo with hand held video games this
morning, perhaps expecting that we’d have trouble sitting still. I’d
gotten in first and claimed Centipede. I think Polly was less than
satisfied with being stuck with Space Invaders. It’s such an old,
boring game.
“Well, I guess...” Polly began, and then made a grab for my
centipede game.
“No! Polly! I got it first!” I told her.
“Oh, this is stupid,” Polly complained. She yanked at the
necktie of her schoolgirl uniform, a big floppy decorative bow,
loosening it.
“Polly, you have to be good and look like a proper little girl
or we’ll be sent back to our parents,” I warned her.
“I don’t like wearing clothes anymore,” she said frankly. “I
just want to swim in my pool and not wear anything!”
“It’s not your pool, it’s Rose’s,” I replied.
“I have a pool at my house,” she told me proudly.
“Do your mom and dad let you skinny dip in it?” I asked
pointedly.
“No,” Polly said, and went back to concentrating on Space
Invaders.
“Maybe if you played at something more sophisticated than the
Teddy Bear level you’d enjoy the game more,” I suggested. There was an
electric picture of a teddy bear’s face in the corner of her screen.
“I can’t WIN at the other levels,” Polly replied.
“Oh well, if you’re good and don’t undress yourself I’ll switch
with you on the way back,” I promised her.
“Okay,” Polly answered. She seemed happy now. She zapped the
descending aliens with increasing success.
“I’m almost up to two million points!” Polly declared as we
finally approached the child protection building.
“Well, get ready to quit. We’re almost there,” I told her,
looking out the window.
“Now I just want to play Space Invaders for the rest of my
life,” Polly admitted.
Our driver escorted us up into the big Child Protective
building. It looked like a structure Stalin had designed. It was
shaped like a box, stretching toward the sky like the Tower of Babel,
and each window had been carefully fitted with bars to make sure none of
the protected children decided to seek independence.
Frederick, our driver, turned us over to someone at the door.
He looked mean. A short, fat man with a handlebar mustache. He had a
big nametag on. With a very officious demeanor he led us up to the
front desk and turned us over to the lady there. She glanced up at us
from behind granny glasses.
“You will be called when I’m ready for you,” the woman told
us. She pointed to some empty chairs beyond a door, and the fat man
took us through the door, which had a pane of heavy, unbreakable glass
in it. We sat down and the fat man left, locking the door on his way
out. Polly and I sat on hard plastic chairs, not the least comfortable,
and found ourselves staring out at the woman behind the desk.
“What do we do now?” Polly asked me. She tried shifting her
weight to get her bottom more comfortable but it was no use.
“Try to look good. Read a magazine,” I said absently to her,
as distracted as she was at the uncomfortable nature of our seats.
Polly glanced around. On a nearby platform (it posed as a
table but was nothing but a square of plastic stuck between two chairs)
some magazines lay. Polly, glad for an excuse to get up, walked over
the table. She bent to look at the magazines and I smiled to myself as
I saw her dress lift up in back to show the tops of her white schoolgirl
stockings. They kept her legs clad in white worsted right up to
mid-thigh, but above her legs gleamed out like tanned columns of
cinnamon. A little higher and one might see her white undies, if she
bent over more. Pull them down and her marks from the whipping would
show.
“Jack and Jill, Family Circle, Jack and the Beanstalk!” Polly
read aloud from the magazine’s covers. “How to Teach your Child to be
Safe!” “How to Teach your Child to Count to Ten!” “The Alphabet Made
Easy!” Polly’s voice became more contemptuous as she read off each
title and each article. “Yick! This magazine has a booger on its
cover!” Polly declared. She flounced back to me, letting her schoolgirl
dress flip up as high as she could, swaying her hips most salaciously,
letting her bosoms bounce, and sat back down next to me.
“Polly! Didn’t you put on your bra?” I asked her. I hadn’t
noticed how bouncy her breasts were until just now.
“Why should I? I’m only 13,” Polly snipped. “I’m not supposed
to have breasts this big so why should I wear a bra over them?”
“We’re trying to be GOOD, Polly!” I told her. “Please behave
so we can go back to Louis and Andre.”
“I don’t like Andre anymore,” Polly declared. I felt a shiver
run through me as I worried she might turn in Rose. Then she smiled.
“I like Louis,” she told me.
“Well, then don’t blow it for us,” I snapped. Polly was giving
me fits. No bra, won’t play her Space Invaders, then won’t quit, now
saying she might just decide she doesn’t like Rose’s castle, even though
in the limo she’d said she wanted to swim naked there forever. “Do you
like partying at Rose’s?” I asked her.
“Sort of,” Polly replied, considering, playing with her fingers
as if fiddling with them would give her God’s answer. “But I certainly
don’t like having my bottom spanked!”
“Just be glad you didn’t get a weal like me, Polly,” I told
her. “Though God knows you deserve them all over your tushy, in my
opinion.”
“Girls, would you please come with me?” the woman with the
granny glasses suddenly said to us. She was standing just inside the
door, and she’d unlocked it without us hearing her. We both got up, and
I saw Polly move with extra caution lest she wiggle her breasts and let
on that she had no bra.
We were separated. I was taken to a room by myself. I sat
down in another plastic chair to wait, this time with the option of
reading “Children’s Playland” if I chose, a dog-eared magazine dated
from 1982. It advised parents that their children should be made to
wear “Safety Beepers” to protect them from strange men.
A head looked in on me as I considered the magazine. A hand,
gnarled with age, passed me a white paper gown. “Please take off all
your clothes and put this on,” an old woman told me. Her eyes seemed to
regard me with intense jealousy, as if she would like nothing more than
to see me spayed. I accepted the paper gown. She shut the door and I
swallowed. Then, standing up, I took off the modest clothing I’d so
carefully put on.
I was just tying the last of the paper gown’s drawstrings over
my front when a woman entered, about Rose’s age. She had curly brown
hair, long hair, that she’d bundled efficiently atop her head for her
work. She had a pronounced bust. A stethoscope hung down over her
white nurse’s jacket, and I found myself wondering what it would look
like just against her skin, cool, metallic, snaking down between those
womanly breasts of hers. At the same time I felt disappointment that I
hadn’t been assigned a man to examine me. But then, I would never be,
here, would I? Not at child protective services.
“Please get on the table,” the nurse told me. She laid down
her clipboard and pushed a small wooden platform over to the side of the
room’s examining table. Then, as I watched, she drew a pair of cold
steel stirrups out from the end of the table. She inverted the stirrups
so that they both pointed down. “On your belly, please,” she told me.
I got on the stool and then pushed myself with my hands up onto
the table. I lay down on it, hesitant in my movements, but finally
letting myself just relax against its hard surface. There was a cushion
beneath me but it was made of such solid, efficient leather that it
almost need not have been there at all, for the good it did me. A
simple paper sheet lay drawn along its surface, pulled from a roller at
its head. Just before I’d laid down the nurse had drawn down the sheet
to tear it off from the last patient’s visit. There had been a wet spot
on the sheet where I knew my pussy would lie. Now as I settled into the
clean portion of the sheet I wondered if I’d leave a similar spot when I
got up.
The nurse offered me a small pillow and I let her slip it under
my face. Then she lifted my head and set my chin on the pillow and
popped a thermometer in my mouth.
“You have a nice tan. Have you been playing in the sun?” the
nurse asked me. I nodded, holding tight to the thermometer between my
lips. She moved down to my legs and drew them apart. With soft fingers
she placed each of my feet in the downward pointing stirrups. Then she
looped a band of leather around my ankle and tied it. I was not wearing
my anklets or wristlets, or my collar. Those had been left behind, at
Rose’s. It felt odd to have the leather tightened around my ankle. I
was not used to that part of my skin being bare, despite spending all
weekend nude. Now it was tied up again, but the leather which bound me
now was thin, like a shoelace, and the nurse tied it so that it made a
little bow at the back of my foot. I lifted my heels a little and found
that they were quite immovable, being fixed to the stirrups now. I was
imprisoned again, though for what purpose I knew not.
The nurse hiked up the back of my paper gown. I felt the air
of the room touch the backs of my thighs and then finally my upswelling
rear. The nurse gasped. “Who did this to your bottom?” she asked. She
traced my red-hued scars with the tip of her finger. I shivered a
little. There was a thermometer in my mouth. She remembered, and
plucked it from my lips just as I reached to take it out myself.
“I-I can’t say,” I replied. “I don’t want to blame anyone.
But I don’t want to go home either.”
“Oh, my, well, I wouldn’t want you to have to go home either,”
the nurse answered. But I sensed a bit of amusement in her voice. I
had not said my dad did this to me, or my mom. Did she think they did,
or did she know better? “Let me get some lotion to put on your poor
hiney,” the nurse told me. She read my thermometer. “Well, your temp’s
okay,” she told me. “About your fanny, there’s a best way to do it and
the ordinary way,” she said.
“Yes?” I asked. I looked up at her with innocent eyes. I was
doing okay so far. No questions I’d had to lie about, and she seemed to
have moved on to just healing me now, like a real doctor, not worrying
about my injuries came about but only how to make them better.
“If I put--” She seemed slightly flustered. She touched a hand
to her hair, then to the topmost button on her vest, where her collar
suddenly seemed to be fitted so tightly around her slim neck. “If I put
the lotion on with my fingers that will be okay,” she said. “This
sounds silly but-- if I use my nipples, that will be better. It will
be softer and won’t hurt as much.” She fidgeted with her collar button.
“Okay,” I replied.
“Good,” she said. “I’m glad you agree.” She undid the buttons
of her jacket, letting me watch, still wishing I could have a man doctor
somehow, and wondering how I might ask her, when her jacket popped open
and her breasts burst forth, full and upthrusting and with quivering
teats. “I should wear a blouse and bra but I was in a rush this
morning,” my nurse explained. “A demanding boyfriend,” she added. I
saw teeth marks around the tips of her breasts but said nothing. Love
hickeys, left by her boyfriend to remind her of his love. Had he
suspected she’d show them to a female patient? My nurse saw me watching
and cupped her breasts. Briefly she looked at her tits. “Yes, it was
kind of a rough night,” she admitted. Then she let go of them and they
hung very nicely, kind of like gourds, but much rounder. “Are your
breasts okay?” she asked me.
“Yes,” I answered. There was a thankful sigh in my voice.
“Good. I’ll check them later for you, just to be sure,” my
nurse told me. “By the way, since we’re going to be somewhat intimate
with each other, showing each other our marks and all, my name’s
Glenda,” she said.
“Mine’s Fleury,” I replied.
“Yes, I see it on the chart,” she nodded, indicating her
clipboard, which lay on the plastic chair now, where I’d been sitting,
trying so hard just a few minutes ago to be as simple and plain and
unaffected as possible. Now I was quite naked and showing my scars, my
gown hiked up and my tanned legs pulled apart and tied off at the ankles
in metal stirrups. I was living a girl’s life, I suppose.
My nurse got lotion and, without removing her dress, or any
other part of her clothing, including her neat white nurse’s hat, she
dribbled lotion from a small glass bottle onto her nipples. Then, with
her nipples gleaming, she lowered down my table by pressing a switch.
She looked like a doctor preparing for an operation, except she was
topless and there were no tools to cut me with lying about, my cuts
already having been inflicted the night before.
Glenda pressed her fingertips to my paper-sheathed table. She
leaned over my bottom and, in very gentle circular motions, she began
brushing her wet nipples over my heinie.
“Ohhh,” I breathed, feeling those prim wet tips trace healing
lotion onto my flaming tushy. She breathed a gentle “oh” of her own,
echoing mine. Was she feeling the healing effects of the lotion upon
the teeth marks her boyfriend had left on her breasts, or was she
feeling pleasure at caressing me? I could not tell. I did not ask.
Whenever she ran short of lotion on the tips of her nipples
Glenda would stop and put more on. Then she would return her soft teats
to my ass, newly wettened, and begin caressing me once more.
“How do you feel?” she asked, after a bit. I turned my head.
I let my cheek snuggle against my pillow.
“Nice,” I replied.
“Is your ass starting to feel better?” she asked.
“Mmmm, a little,” I replied truthfully, for all the oil,
however carefully it might be applied, would still not take all the
sting out of my bottom. Only time would heal that.
She placed two fingers gently within my bottom crack and vented
me. “Have you been playing with widening yourself?” she asked me.
“Mmmm, a little,” I replied again, feeling warm and cared for.
It was nice to have someone so attentive looking after me.
“I only mention that because you seem to have an especially
tight asshole,” she said. “Your boyfriend might need to stick something
up you to make you more accessible.” She touched my hiney-hole with the
tip of her finger. Secretly I wished she’d use her nipple.
“I’ve learned to relax it better,” I confessed.
“Good,” she replied. “Would you like me to help a little?
It’s totally ‘off the books,’ you know, doing something like that, but I
had the same problem myself.” Her voice seemed sympathetic.
“Okay,” I answered, not thinking about it really, just letting
her do with me as she pleased. Glenda went to a table on which there
were cotton swabs, a syringe, and a speculum, all laid out neatly, just
waiting, waiting... She reached behind the items laid on the table and
opened a metal box. She had to stand on tip-toe to find what she wanted
inside it, her breasts hanging down like ripe fruit, wet at the tips,
her tongue lightly licking her lips. Finally Glenda drew forth a long
gleaming dildo, hard metal steel but with joints in it, as if it might
need to bend in certain places, if enough pressure were applied to it,
to accommodate whatever it was stuck inside of. The dildo was quite
thin, but I saw a bladder at the bottom of it.
“This is called a Devil’s Dildo,” Glenda told me. She held it
aloft for me to catch sight of and then went to the sink and began
running the water there until it was as cold as she could make it. She
filled the bladder at the base of the dildo with the icy water.
Matter of factly she walked over to me. She showed me the
dildo up close. She squirted lotion onto it, the same as had been used
on my bottom, applying it through the nipple-tip of the small glass
bottle until the bottle was almost empty. “When the dildo is inserted
I’m going to squirt ice water up your rectum,” Glenda told me. “The ice
water is quite uncomfortable, but it should help you get more in touch
with your asshole. As you can see, the dildo is quite long, longer than
a man’s penis, and I’m going to try to get the whole thing up you. Tell
me if I’m hurting you, but don’t expect me to stop unless I actually
think it’s impossible to go on. I just need feedback to help you master
your sensations, that’s all. Okay?” She smiled at me.
“I- I don’t want to,” I told her quite frankly.
“Play with yourself while I do it,” she told me. “It will make
it easier for you and I need to check whether you can have normal
orgasms anyway. Sorry, but no men allowed. This is child protective
services, you understand. I can’t break all the rules for you. Just
diddle your spot and see if you can concentrate on your clitty, but
remember I’ll be getting you in touch with your backhole all the while,
squirting icewater up you as we proceed so you can feel the entire
length of your inner tubing, as one might say. Would you like a little
something to ease your nervousness before I begin?” I nodded, silently,
saying nothing.
Glenda went to the countertop again, where the other
instruments lay. She reached down beneath it and opened what I saw to
be a small refrigerator. There were samples inside it, of blood, urine,
feces, each neatly bottled and packaged and labeled. There was also a
freezer compartment in the fridge. Glenda opened it and took out a tray
of ice cubes and plopped the dildo into it. I shivered, seeing that.
It was supposed to go up my ass in a minute!
Rummaging among the specimen containers, reaching all the way
to the back, Glenda drew out a flask of brandy. She reached up to an
overhead cupboard and got out a medicine cup. Wiping the top of the
brandy flask first, to make sure it was clean, using a medicated
sanitary wipe to do it, she then opened the flask of brandy and poured
it into the medicine cup. She brought it over to me and made me sip it
down.
“It doesn’t taste too good, because it’s partly mixed with
castor oil, but it should still help you relax,” Glenda told me. She
poured the brandy between my lips for me.
“Ew, won’t it make me go to the bathroom?” I asked her frankly.
“Some, but it’s okay. I need you nice and juicy in back
because when we’re done with the Devil’s Dildo I’m going to give you the
biggest you’ve ever had. We nurses call it the Master John, because
gays sometimes use it to train their lovers. Start rubbing yourself so
you’ll be plenty aroused when it’s time for that one,” Glenda said. “If
you don’t mind I’m going to rub myself a little while you do yourself.
May I undress?”
“I don’t mind,” I replied. I was curious to see her bush, I
must admit, after admiring her bosoms. Anyway, I wasn’t exactly hiding
anything from her. Glenda removed her dress and then her panties,
leaving just her stockings and heels on, and her little nurse’s hat.
“I hope nobody comes in,” Glenda told me. “I locked the door
but some people do have the key. When it’s time to put the Master John
in you I’m going to put it on, if it’s okay with you. It’s too hard to
push it in with my hands.”
“Alright,” I said. This was getting more demanding every
minute.
“Thanks for letting me undress early,” she told me. “It is
kind of tough to have that Master John rubbing against my clit if I
haven’t prepped myself. It’s supposed to have a soft harness but I find
it kind of rough, actually, though I’ve tried wearing it down and I’ve
used it, of course, on other girls.”
“How many girls do you do this to?” I asked.
“Only the special ones, the ones that need it,” she replied.
Was she keeping back half the truth from me, as I had about the reason
for my bottom? I couldn’t tell. At least I did know she had a
boyfriend, so there was no question she was normal. Just a little
helpful, that’s all, for girls who needed it, like me. In a previous
generation she’d have handed out birth control pills to someone like me,
surreptitiously, or helped me find a doctor willing to do an abortion.
But now, with those things quite legal, she’d moved on to other aspects
of girls’ sexuality, like helping them accept their lover’s big penises
up their hineyholes.
“I’m going to lick you with my tongue to help you feel
sensuous,” Glenda told me. She was peering into my bottom now, having
fetched back the dildo from the ice tray.
“Alright,” I agreed. I felt her fingers pressed hard to the
insides of my buttcrack. I was glad the whip had mostly missed that
part of me. Gentleness could not be had there if she was to help me.
“Play with yourself, Fleury,” Glenda reminded me. As I felt
her tongue descend to the rim of my sphincter and lightly daub me there,
I slipped my hands down my belly, arching my bottom up to let myself
find my clit.
“Ooooh!” I sighed. Glenda’s tongue stabbed within my sensitive
hole just as my fingers found my spot.
“Rub,” Glenda reminded me, mangling her order a bit because her
tongue was sticking into my hole, making it actually sound more like
“flub,” but I knew what she meant.
The next few minutes passed quietly. Glenda, in no hurry,
despite the fact that her ass was mooning a door someone might walk
through at any moment, licked within my hiney hole, exploring it at
first, then stabbing more deeply, with firmness and determination. I
played with myself quite happily, not caring how silly we looked. I was
glad to have something to take my mind off the marks that scored the
cheeks of my bottom. I would never have agreed to be tongued like this
if I hadn’t been whipped, I realized.
Glenda relubricated the Devil’s Dildo when she felt I was
finally ready for it. She had to fetch a new bottle of lotion to do
it. Then, seeing that it had warmed because she’d taken it from the ice
tray, she popped it in the freezer for a few minutes and went back to
licking like a doggy with her tongue up my hole.
Finally all was ready. Glenda got the dildo, put just a dab
more lotion on it, and breathed on it for luck. Then she inserted the
tip of it in me, making me cry out.
“Oh, you mustn’t scream,” she said. She laid the dildo aside
and went to the countertop and fetched some cloth. Returning to me,
standing over my head, she bound my mouth with the cloth without
bothering to ask my permission. Then, after checking that I could still
breathe through my nose, she returned to my rear.
Every inch of the Devil’s Dildo proved to be an agony.
Although it was thin, and I relaxed myself as best I could, Glenda
insisted on squirting icewater repeatedly up my anus to keep me in
touch, as she said, with my chocolate chute. The thing itched as it
went up. It seemed to force the air from my lungs. I felt as if I were
a little champagne bottle and she was stuffing the cork back into me.
Finally, feeling quite frozen inside my behind, she told me I’d taken it
all. I couldn’t believe it. Tears were rolling down my cheeks from my
exertions. I’d tried my best to let it in but spent just as much time
instinctively trying to expel it. It had wearied me. The brandy was
making me sleepy. I felt like I might need to poop soon. Glenda gave
me the rest of the ice water from the dildo’s bladder. Then, after all
I’d gone through to have it put up me, she drew it out.
“What are you doing?” I heard Polly’s voice pipe up as the
extra long Devil’s Dildo was withdrawn, turd-like, from my anus. My
shit lightly coated its once flawless, gleaming metal sides, hiding its
luster behind a veil of my nether essence.
“Pooolly!” I cried, turning my head. My eyes, despite my
tears, looked guilty. I rubbed myself more furiously, seeing her. I
was feeling quite passionate now. Polly stood buck naked, shutting the
door quietly behind her as she entered our room.
“I took all my clothes off like they told me but nobody ever
came,” Polly explained.
“That’s probably nurse Johnson,” Glenda said, taking out my
dildo. “A real bitch. She’s probably late because she’s in court
testifying why some girl needs forcible psychiatric care.”
Glenda took the dildo from my bottom and walked it over to the
sink and dropped it within its gleaming basin. She ran water over it to
wash it off. Polly, her bottom still red from her whipping, crept up to
me and examined my violated hole.
“Why are you having this done?” Polly asked. Tenderly she
touched me where the dildo had just come out. Her snub nose wriggled a
little at seeing the shit smeared round the edge of my sphincter.
“Polly, have you ever played with yourself?” Glenda asked her.
“‘Course,” Polly admitted, with a sheepish look on her face.
Instinctively she let her hand slip down to her soft pubis and touch
herself.
“Good. That’s just what I want you to do in a minute, after
you help me get into this Master John,” Glenda told her. “I’m glad
you’re here. I might have had to untie Fleury and get her to help me.
This thing is way fucking big and heavy and it’s hard to hold it up and
tie it on at the same time, especially if you’re just a girl. I’m not
used to hauling a big pecker around with me, you know.”
“Gooosh!” Polly exclaimed as she saw Glenda bend down and take
a massive sausage-sized dildo out of the fridge. It looked like it was
made of pliable rubber, but some wicked soul had decided to store it in
the fridge anyway, just to make a girl like me more miserable. Glenda
beckoned Polly over to her.
“It’s cold,” Polly said, touching her fingers to the big
sausage.
“Yes, it’s been in the refrigerator, Polly,” Glenda replied,
stating the obvious. “There, I’ve got the straps untangled. Polly,
when I pass them under myself and back around behind myself, I want you
to tie them all together, okay? Just use the drawstrings.”
“I’m glad I learned to tie my shoes,” Polly admitted, seeing
all the laces dangling from the ends of the Master John’s straps.
Together the two of them got the devilish thing wrapped round Glenda’s
pussified loins, making her look like a man when they were all done.
Glenda sauntered over to me, looking more confident than I’d
ever seen her. The big wangling sausage-shaped dildo bounced stiffly
between her Venus-like legs. She was truly a creature God had never
intended, and she was about to put the world’s biggest dildo up my quite
small hole.
“I left the balls off,” Glenda told me, getting on my table
with me and mounting my bottom. “I figured you’d have enough weight
bearing down on you without those being added. They make bowling balls
look like something little girls play jacks with,” she laughed. With
total disregard for the state of my bottom she gripped my cheeks and
yanked them hard apart. I cried out but my gag stifled my scream.
“Oh, don’t hurt her!” Polly admonished.
“Play with yourself, Polly,” Glenda told her. Polly seemed
hesitant. “Or I’ll ram it up you next,” she added.
“Okay!” Polly replied anxiously. She was getting hot just
watching me and she began twiddling with her spot now, not wanting to be
punished and feeling a little like she might enjoy an orgasm anyway.
Glenda pushed the giant dildo head against my sphincter.
“Relax, Fleury,” she ordered me. “Is the brandy helping?”
“Yes,” I admitted. I was feeling quite sleepy and my hiney
cheeks seemed to be growing apart from me. I felt her hands on my
bottom but despite the pain of her firm touch I did not cry out.
“Here goes,” Glenda said. She gritted her teeth and shoved
hard with the sausage against my hole. There was no give. She pushed
again, harder. I screeched into my gag as I suddenly felt just the nose
of the thing somehow nudge its way into me.
“No more! No more!” I exclaimed, quite awake now, but still
feeling a little sleepy in my hiney cheeks, as if they’d gone to sleep
like your foot sometimes does. Had there been novocaine mixed in with
the ice water inside the other dildo’s bladder?
“Yes, Fleury, it must happen sometime,” Glenda admonished.
“Don’t worry, I won’t break you,” she added. “I’m being as careful as I
can.”
Polly stood in the corner, by the countertop, with its neat row
of implements, watching with wide eyes and rubbing herself ever more
briskly. Her small titties shook with delicious little tremors, big for
her age but still nowhere as big as Glenda’s juggernauts, full-gown
women’s tits bouncing above her ribs as she drew in her breath and
impaled me more fully on her fake man-sized cock. Giant-sized, I should
say. I felt as if an entire sausage-like beanstalk were being forced up
me. Jack would have fared better if he’d been caught and punished by
the Giant in the land above the clouds.
“Oooooh, it’s so naughty!” Polly exclaimed suddenly. She
rushed up as if to save me but, at the last minute, she licked one of
her fingers and poked it within Glenda’s behind.
“Polly, don’t fuck ME!” Glenda cried, but it was no use.
Having found Glenda’s hole, Polly jammed her finger into it and began
screwing my nurse.
“Oh, please, stop,” Glenda told Polly, bearing down on me and
making me take a bit more of the sausage cock as she herself found that
her clit was as close to orgasm as mine was.
“Yesssss!” I screamed suddenly, finding mine, and I felt hot
rushes of heat blow up within my legs even as I strove to expel the
refrigerated sausage from my hiney. Glenda bucked atop me, striving to
impale me more but winding up with Polly’s finger digging more
intrusively into her own hole instead. There was just no way that
sausage was going to get up me, no matter how much spiked brandy she fed
me or novocaine she put up my butt.
“Yeah, yeah, youuu get it toooo,” Polly exclaimed, rubbing
herself furiously now as she stuck Glenda’s big mommie’s bottom with her
finger.
“Ahhh, I’m sorry Fleury but I’m cummmmingggg!” Glenda cried.
She bounced her sausage ever more deeply and penetratingly upon my
widespread hole, finally piercing me a little with its big blunt nose,
as the strap which held it on made her clit shiver with spendings.
As soon as we’d all cum it was over. Glenda dismounted me a
little sheepishly, feeling foolish bound up round her cunny in a big
manly cock. Polly went to the countertop and made a point of wiping her
finger very well upon a handful of kleenex. I suspected she’d never put
it up a woman’s bottom before, and she said nothing of it, as if hoping
we’d forget. Glenda untied me like a butcher giving a calf a reprieve.
I got up, with a little help from her, and found it awkward to sit upon
my bottom, still sore and now so fully violated, with a little of the
sleepiness still shivering within it.
We wiped ourselves with kleenex at the sink as best we could.
Then Glenda and I dressed, silently. No mention was made of inspecting
my breasts, my sex, my belly. This examination had obviously taken
longer than most already. When she was fully dressed again Glenda
looked in the mirror over the sink and adjusted her hat. “Tell Rose
I’ll see that your parents are informed that we’re following up on all
available leads,” she said. “Rose is a bush leaguer, my boyfriend says,
when it comes to bondage, but I’m sure you’ll have fun anyway.”
“A bush leaguer?” Polly asked.
“My boyfriend would really rough you up,” Glenda explained.
“He hasn’t me yet, but I saw photos of his last girlfriend. I keep
teasing him. Wish me luck,” she smiled.
“You want to be roughed up?” I asked her.
“Why do you think I’m a nurse?” she replied. “I like it
rough. I became a nurse so I’d understand myself better, although my
boyfriend says I should have majored in psychology instead. I need to
understand myself physically so I can keep things from going too far,
but still push them all the way, you know?” Polly just stared at her.
She was still nude. We’d have to go down the hall and fetch her clothes
for her.
“Don’t bump into me in a dark alley, kid,” Glenda said to
Polly, grinning. She put her finger under the girl’s chin and kissed
her lightly on the nose.
We emerged from the child protective services building like two
children just released from school. Our blouses were white and crisp,
our neckties straight, our skirts pleated and primly worn. Polly
delighted in bouncing down the building’s front steps and watching her
titties shake. I had my bra on underneath my blouse. I didn’t want to
take any chances until we were completely out of sight of the
Stalinesque building behind us. I tried not to think of what might have
happened to us if our indiscretions with Glenda had been discovered.
Well, it was not our fault if our physicals got a little too physical,
was it? I suspected we would have been implicated somehow. And Glenda
wouldn’t have been able to send us back to Rose. I wiped my forehead
with my hand. The afternoon had settled in, full with the heat of the
latter part of the day. I need my pool. Rose’s pool. I needed to be
naked again and swimming in its cool waters. Or playing inside with
whipped cream. I wondered what Louis and Andre were up to. Did they
still have all that sperm in their balls that they’d still had when
Polly and I had left them? I doubted it, but Rose I suspected was a
little more bloated perhaps in her tummy, if they really filled her up
like they seemed capable of doing when we left.
I took Polly’s hand.
“The limo should be here any minute,” I told her.
“I get Centipede on the ride back,” she replied.
“Okay,” I agreed.
30
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