Message-ID: <5676eli$9711181122@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Archived-At: <URL:http://www.netusa.net/~eli/erotica/assm/Year97/5676.txt>
From: Andrew Roller <roller39@IDT.NET>
Subject: Enslaved to Eros part 2 of 2 (NND)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d
Reply-To: roller39@IDT.NET
Path: qz!not-for-mail
Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam
Approved: <usenet-approval@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded <story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Story-Submission: <story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Original-Message-ID: <347046FC.5650@idt.net>
---------------------------------------------------------------
PROBLEMS? Please try viewing this with Netscape Navigator.
---------------------------------------------------------------
_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
ENSLAVED TO EROS
_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
Chapter Two
Under our bottoms, around our waists, well up our backs and
down our legs, we were soaked. We lay in a peed-in bed, like children
just awoken from a dream that lasts too long.
“Oh, such a warm, cozy bed, and now it’s been wet by your big
penis,” Katie scolded Nick. She reached between his legs. I could see
her hand moving under the covers. She grasped his rod and jerked her
hand up and down its wet length.
“Unh,” Nick groaned. He didn’t try to stop Katie, this time.
“You let out some pee yourself,” he replied.
“Yes, but I’m just little,” Katie said. “It’s this big thing
of yours that let out the *most* pee!” She kept yanking her small fist
up and down on his rod. Nick groaned again. “You may as well shoot out
the rest, while you’re at it, since the bed’s all wet!” Katie told him.
I rolled over onto her.
“No,” I breathed, impulsively. I reached for her hand. I
grasped at her small fingers around Nick’s stemming organ. His
reproductive organ. She knew nothing about the value of it, flush with
its first stiffness of the evening. How special that is, a man’s first
erection, when he’s most anxious, most urgent in his lusts. It should
be teased. Challenged, if possible. Later in the evening his edge will
be lessened, though he might be just as hard. Then, he is a
professional. A professional fucker.
I giggled, to myself. I wanted Nick’s first erection of the
evening to last as long as possible, that I might drive him to agony
with it, taking him to the brink again and again.
“No,” I told Katie, again. I tried to pry her fingers off
Nick’s cock. She was equally adamant that she must keep possession of
it, and make him shoot under the covers. Were we not wet enough
already? She had said she didn’t want to get sticky. So why did the
girl show such eagerness to make him spend?
“Mmmm! I want to suck him!” Katie declared. She squirmed
under me. I kept her flat on her back. I kissed her lips and felt her
slim, bell-shaped hips squirm under me. Her tummy pressed its
smoothness to mine. We were as sisters, but wanting differing things
from the man beside us. I, teased by him in the cave, wished to tease
him back now; now that he lay flat on his back beside me. I wished to
dominate a little, instead of just receiving it.
“Oh, God! Quit fighting over my dick, girls!” Nick groaned.
Katie and I wriggled beside him, both of us nude, the bells round our
necks ringing, our chained feet clashing with clanging links.
Jane threw back the covers. I felt them fly off me. My rump
wiggled its exposed flesh, like a fish tossed upon a dock. Nude, wet.
SLAP! Jane’s hand connected with my bare seat. I howled. I
jumped like fish do, atop little Katie, as if she were a dock and I were
trying, fruitlessly, to fling myself from the dock back to the sea. I
felt the impress of her hand, though it had bounced off me, like a hand
springing off a big rubber ball. It stung. I pressed my free hand
between my hips and Katie’s and played in her slit.
“Oh, she spanked me!” I said with a sobbing sigh to Katie.
“I know. I could hear it!” Katie answered, matter-of-factly.
It had been a big, flesh-splatting smack, full and hard Though
delivered with a slim, manicured female hand, it hurt nonetheless. A
mommie’s hand can hurt just as much as a daddie’s, if she hits hard
enough. Jane was not in a mood to be merciful. But what had I done,
except what she’d told me to?
Jane’s breasts swung freely over my back. She hovered over my
slim figure like a lover, yet like a mother too, compelled to discipline
her small child.
SPLATT!! Jane’s hand connected with my seat again. It thudded
hard against my elastic hemispheres, driving them inward, compressing
them, then springing away to leave them raw and red and humming with
pain.
“Ohh-woh!” I sobbed. Jane’s spanks were delivered with the
absolute maximum amount of force she could muster. My sock-clad feet,
so warmly encased by Jane earlier in the evening, kicked in the air.
I rubbed Katie harder. I still was hoping to get her fingers
off Nick’s cock, by distracting her with mine in her slit. At the same
time, I pulled at the small fist she’d locked around Nick’s cock.
“Let go!” I cried, my voice tear-sobbing. Jane, above me,
seemed, I sensed, puzzled by this, for no one was holding me.
SPLAT! SPLAT! Her hand struck twice more, rapidly, hitting
each of my bouncy red bottomcheeks in turn. I let out a howl. Still,
despite the burning handprints across my bottom, I struggled on with
Katie, trying to save Nick’s seed, trying to diddle her cunny to orgasm.
“God, such an adorable bottom,” I heard Jane say above me. She
kissed my back. Then, implacably, she slammed another hind splitting
spank down onto my tushy.
“Owooooo!” I hollared. I clapped both my hands to my bottom.
My head lurched up. My tummy pressed sweatily to Katie’s. My hips
ground against hers. Our muffs teased upon each other. Our bosoms
bounced.
“Oh! Oh! Oh!” Katie shouted. I pressed hard against her.
Her small fist jerked impulsively on Nick’s cock. She let out a moany
sigh, wishing, I think, for the return of my fingers to her slit. She
tried to wedge her free hand between our hips but could not, I was
pressing so hard against her. Her bare feet kicked up on either side of
me. The bells on our necks rang loudly.
With a sudden gush, Nick’s sperm erupted from his cock. It
jetted up toward the ceiling. Then, arcing back down, it hit the head
of his stiff, straight penis, even as more of his cum jetted up through
his pee hole.
“Ohhh! It’s like Old Faithful!” Katie, wide-eyed, exclaimed,
gazing upon his manhood.
“Damn! You two bitches jacked me off!” Nick swore. He blamed
me as much as Katie, even though both my hands now were pressed hard to
my naked ass.
“They must be punished for it,” Jane, above me, said
matter-of-factly.
“Nooooo!” Katie cried. Yet she continued to rub her free hand
hard against my bare hips, trying to insinuate her fingers between us so
she could frig herself.
“After our bath,” Jane promised. “Come, girls. Get up.”
“Oh, I--” Katie said urgently. Jane pulled me off her. At
once her hands, both of them, one coated with Nick’s seed, flew to her
cunny. She arched up her hips and pressed her flat, indrawn belly
upward, like a smooth piece of lumber being angled up for carpentry
work. Her bottom cheeks, chubby and round, tensed underneath her. She
flexed her thighs up, lifting her hips, digging at the same time with
her small fingers into her cunt. I worried she might become pregnant.
She was obviously virgin; Nick’s seed dripped between her labia lips.
She smeared it liberally upon her sex as she diddled herself.
“Mmmmmm!” Katie cried. She stuck her tongue between her lips,
like the Frosted Flakes tiger does. She licked her lips as she fingered
her cunt with quick, urgent strokes. Her legs fell more widely apart,
baring her core to us, as if to invite a fucking. “Whooo! Whooo!
Whooo!” she uttered with childish frankness.
I couldn’t help myself. Despite my bare, stinging ass, despite
Jane’s ominous promise of punishment, I clapped both my hands over my
sex. Even as I worried that they were needed elsewhere, to protect and
assauge my bottom, I frigged myself. I worked my fingers into my slit
and felt my bubbies, stiff nippled, pressed tightly between my sinful
arms. I squeezed my tits, as if to offer milk to the air. My fingers
sought my spot.
I was on my knees. Katie was on her back. Jane hovered next
to me, and I felt, with my senses, her hand. It didn’t touch me, but,
rather, it picked up her long, leathery riding crop off the bed. How
curious it was, I thought, for a riding crop, used on horses, to be
brought to bed.
I didn’t have time to contemplate on the crop’s presence for
long. I heard a swish. I shrieked. The crop struck my bottom like a
hot branding iron being applied to one’s skin. It left a bright,
blazing line of pain across my seat. I yelled to the rafters. I
squeezed my ass cheeks. It did no good, only emphasizing the sting.
Another whistle. Another stroke. I fell face forward onto the
bed, beside Katie. Yet my hips, as I fell forward, lofted high, lifting
up my bottom. My hands stayed resolutely on my muffin, searching within
it for orgasmic bliss. My hiney presented its bare, squriming cheeks to
Jane.
SWIIIIICK! The leather crop delivered another sharp sting to
my tush. I jammed my cheeks together. My face sought Katie’s. I
kissed her.
“Save me, Katie!” I said in an urgent scream.
“Ohhhh! I can’t! I’m too little!” Katie answered. But the
real reason, for she was only a year younger than me, was that she was
too busy diddling herself. She issued an orgasmic cry a moment later.
Her fingers worked busily in her snatch. My own, though I should have
put them to my ass, to save it from further swats, jammed deep in my
cunny. I found bliss at the end of my fingertips, in my slit. I burst
into a mind-splitting orgasm.
SWIIIICK! Went Jane’s crop again, and it seemed, somehow, to
top my orgasm off, though I didn’t like the feel of her crop at all as
it sliced a new line across my bare bottom. I fell onto my side. I
kissed Katie avidly. My tongue extended, found hers. We kissed. We
moaned to each other. Tears rolled down my cheeks, half of pain, half
of bliss. Hers were all happy tears.
“Ah, let me feel the warmth of your bottom,” I heard Rob say.
I felt strong hands come to my hips. They gripped me. They lifted me.
I thought perhaps he might palm me with his hand. Instead, he pressed
loins to me. His thick, hard penis rubbed its way across my ass. It
felt like a hot, bloated thing, rather like a branding iron, except much
thicker, and not striking me, but burning its warmth into me by its
continual, loving contact. He pressed it between the cheeks of my ass.
He drew back a little. I felt a sprinking of oil. Soft words from
Jane. A grunt of approval from Rob. And then, quite suddenly, quite
deliberately, he stuck his thing hard against my anus.
“No! Not that way!” I shriekd. I didn’t wish to receive him
there. I rememberd how hard and thoroughly opened I’d felt, when he’d
attempted me there, earlier. Let him put himself in me the natural
way. My back door was too small for him.
Nick took my cry of alarm as a temptation to try harder. A
girl’s resistance, alas, invites, rather than deters. With manly
determination he lifted my hips higher. My tongue sought Katie’s still,
though I felt a knot of doom in my belly. He was coming in. His way.
Whether I liked it or not.
“Oooook!” I shouted. I felt his penis burrow with a swift,
hard stroke into my anus. His cockhead, sprinkled with oil, punctured
me. It went up where things normally only come out. Jane laughed at my
discomfort. Katie selfishly kept frigging herself, letting me tongue
her. “Please don’t dooooo me that way,” I babbled. Rob ignored me. He
thrust again. I felt his shaft plunge deeper into my fanny. I tried to
squeeze him out. He took it for approval, gave me another, more deeply
penetrating stroke.
“Eeeeek!” I cried.
“She feels it right up to her navel,” Jane chuckled.
“God, she’s tight upon me,” Rob breathed.
“You are her first,” Jane said. I wasn’t, quite, but close
enough, and she didn’t know of my naughtiness with Nick in the cave.
“Ohhhh, I hope nobody fucks *my* bottom!” Katie declared. She
continued rubbing herself.
“How about your cunt?” Nick asked her.
“Not that either,” Katie said. “I’ve never had anything up my
cunt, and I don’t ever want anything up me there, either.”
“Then that’s exactly what you’ll have,” Nick said. His penis,
so recently milked, sprang to attention at the thought of relieving
Katie of her virginity.
“Noooo!” Katie said. Nick rolled atop her and the scream she
was uttering seemed to drown under the weight of his big man’s body. He
shoved my face aside. He kissed her hard, upon the lips, as if to give
her a token, at least, of his love before taking her. Then he scissored
her legs more widely apart and put his thing to her cunt. She
shrieked. Nick’s hips jerked forward. Katie shrieked louder. He
announced to us, like a bridegroom upon a wedding night, doing it
publicly, that he was in. The prize was taken. He began to shaft her.
His lips glued themselves to hers, and her cries, so ear-splitting a
moment before were drowned by his close-pressed mouth.
We were undone. Myself from the rear, Katie between her virgin
legs. The men humped us. We suffered. I found the penetration hard,
but endured somehow. She screamed to be let go but was not let go until
the deed was complete. She orgasmed again; her first with a man in
her. Rob’s fingers sought my spot and brought me off again, his dick
plowing my behind as if it were a cunt. Jane laughed. She whacked both
men’s fannies with her crop. But lightly; so as not to save either
myself or Katie from the men’s wicked lusts.
“Oh, my bottom’s sore,” I confessed, when I had at last
regained sole use of my body. Katie lay beside me, issuing soft,
self-pitying sobs. I felt my own cheeks stained with tears. I licked
my lips. They were salty. My ass felt like it had been basted in an
oven, then skewered with a hot poker. Yet Jane was jovial, passing us
drinks and insisting we sip them.
“The alchohol in them will lessen the pain,” Jane told us.
“Oh, then why didn’t you give them to us foist?!” Katie
blurted. She sobbed and clutched at the drink Jane passed her with both
hands. She downed it in quick gulps. There was blood between her
thighs, where Nick had pierced her viriginity.
“Because I wanted you both to feel whatever was done to you,”
Jane said in a pleasant, seductive voice, as if we’d just been to a
fair, and were being served drinks after a hot day on the rides. She
brushed my hair out of my eyes. She ran her fingers along the length of
my tresses. “Now you may both let the liquor put you to sleep, if you
wish. You can bathe later.”
“Ohhh, I have to pee again,” Katie said. The sound of both
men, in the bathroom adjoining the bedroom, was loud; they were both
urinating at the same time into the toilet.
“Don’t pee on the seat,” Nick told Rob.
“Don’t piss on my carpet,” Rob answered. I imagined them both
jostling each other, two big men vying for the same small toilet bowl.
“Just pee in the bed, dear. It’s wet already,” Jane told
Katie.
“Okay, I will then,” Katie said. “I don’t want to go in
*there*,” she said, of the bathroom.
“Oh, don’t piss in the bed again!” I cried. Yet almost at once
I felt a sickeningly warm liquid spread itself under my bottom. She was
peeing! Just like a little girl, the littlest sort, too lazy to get up
and go use the potty.
“Well, then,” I said in retaliation, sipping my own drink. “If
you’re going to just pee in our bed, I will too!”
“No, you’re bigger’n me. You need to go use the toilet,” Katie
said, even as the last of her pee spread underneath my bare seat.
“Fat chance,” I said. I paused, drew in my breath (it is ever
difficult to do that which you’ve been trained not to.) Then, nerving
myself against my better instincts, I let loose my pee through my
cuntlips.
“OOOOOH! She’s wetting the bed!” Katie cried. She leapt up,
spilling her drink on me. With her long, brown tresses flying, she
crawled quickly over me, dragging her chain across my peeing muff. Jane
tried to restrain her. But she was young, full of energy, like a kitten
released from the house after a too-long night cooped up indoors.
Katie dropped off the side of the bed, her bell ringing. “I’m
going to sleep on the floor,” Katie declared. I knew there was a furry
throw rug beside the bed and I guessed she was settling down upon it.
“And if I need to pee I’ll pee right here on the floor too,” Katie
said.
I lifted myself up onto my elbows. The last of my pee
continued to jet from between the lips of my cunt as I sought her
reflection in a mirror. I found it. She was on all fours, her bottom
high, her face pressed to the rug. She was pretending to sleep, though
she was waving her bottom around in the air like a chubby white flag of
surrender.
“Katie! Get back in bed! I don’t want you peeing on the rug,”
Jane scolded the girl.
“I will if I want to. I can feel a little bit coming right
now,” Katie said. And, peering hard, I saw a trickle of pee escape from
within her cunt. It speckled the rug.
“Katie!” Jane cried. “You are very naughty!”
Jane swished her riding crop down across Katie’s seat. The
girl, apparently quite surprised, jerked her head up as the crop
connected. She let out a loud howl. Her hands flew back behind her and
grabbed her bottom.
“Ohhhhh, that HOITS!” Katie screeched.
“Wait ‘til you get fucked up your behind,” I called out to
her. I felt merriment at seeing her tushy smacked. My own still burned
and I reached behind myself with one of my hands and rubbed it. It felt
hot. Yet it was beginning to acquire a warm, lovely glow, as if it were
meant for a girl’s bottom to be used that way, hard-smacked. But my
anal hole still itched and burned from Rob’s penetration.
“Boo! Hoo! Hoo!” Katie sobbed. She buried her face in the
rub but kept her ass wiggling high in the air. Her hands rubbed it.
Jane contemplated the girl’s seat, seemed to consider whacking her small
fingers with the crop, but then flopped back into the bed instead. She
rolled over and kissed me.
“She is sweet, don’t you think?” Jane asked me. She kissed my
cheek. It was strange, feeling her beside me, for I’d just wet the bed
again, yet our hair was soft and dry, hers long and dark brown, mine
blonde.
“Mmmm, you have not yet cum,” I said. I placed a hand between
her thighs. I was angry at her for swatting me, for letting her husband
have his will with me, and yet I felt a sisterly affection for her. I
aspired to be like her, when I was 19.
“Oook! I’ll pee on the rug if I want to,” Katie announced. I
tried to see her again, but Jane’s face was too close to mine. Instead
I simply relaxed, let her kiss me. She urged my lips apart and fed in
my mouth with her tongue. I reciprocated by diddling her slit with my
fingers.
“May I pee on your hand?” Jane asked me. I giggled.
“If you wish,” I answered. She sighed. A moment later I felt
a wet sprinkling upon my fingers.
“Ohhh, you are doing it!” I said.
“You said I could,” Jane answered.
“Am I mistress now?” I asked.
“No,” Jane said. “Definitely not. “There is so much more I
must teach you first. You must be trained in all the ways of erotic
enslavement.”
“Ohhhh,” I sighed. Jane put a hand to my cunny and rubbed me.
“Will you train me, if I wish it?” I asked.
“Yes,” Jane said. “But there is only so much a girl can wish
for. You must be pushed beyond that. There is a certain force that
must be used. Do you--” she gasped, for I was busily fingering her.
“Do you understand?”
“I think so,” I gasped. Her words enticed me, even as they
sent chills of fright down my spine.
“You must be led beyond what you think you can take, what you
think you can face, or you will never know your true capabilities,” Jane
breathed hotly to me. Her voice was somewhat muffled by her tongue
trying to feed in me even as she spoke.
“Unnnh, yes,” I answered, my mouth wide to accpet her
intrusions. Her fingers made my hips buck.
“See? I’m peeing right now! Here comes a little *more* pee!”
Katie declared from below.
“Damn girl! What are you doing peeing on my carpet? Do you
think you’re a dog?” Rob roared. I heard his footsteps as he came out
of the bathroom. Why had the men tarried together so long in there? I
did not know.
“Yeeeek! I didn’t mean to!” Katie cried.
“God damn, you wet all over my carpet!” Rob yelled. I heard
Katie scramble to her feet. Her leg irons clanked. Too late, she
realized escaping by foot, a favorite of little girls who do naughty
things, was entirely denied her.
“Here, we shall train this young bitch how to be house broken,”
Rob said, apparently speaking to Nick. I wished to see, but Jane
tongued me more fiercely. I heard Katie squeal; I imagined both of them
picking her up. Her legs would kick, her fists would beat fruitlessly
upon their nude bodies. They would be stiff, from exploring the length
of each other’s cocks in the bathroom. I wondered whether Nick was
bigger, or Rob. It would be a close match, if they were ever measured.
I would do it, one day, measuring both of them with little inch-by-inch
licks of my tongue.
“Noooo! I can’t take BOTH of you!” Katie said in urgent
alarm. I heard growls from the men, heavy breathing. And then, as
Katie screamed in the distance, I came again, on Jane’s inquisitive
hand, and she came against mine.
“Do not be alarmed by your desires,” Jane said to me in the
bath. We were in a large bathroom, white-tiled, immaculate. It was up
the hall from the bedroom where we’d peed. It was not the bathroom the
men had relieved themselves in. Towels of various colors were piled
around the edges of a big, sunken tub. Bubbles bloomed. Katie sailed a
rubber duck in a corner of the tub; oblivious to myself and Jane. She
had been introspective since being taken at both ends by Rob and Nick;
Rob enjoying sloppy seconds in her newly opened cunt, Nick showing her
how to suck. “You desire willpower,” Jane told me. She washed my back,
my bottom. I flinched under her caresses. She used just her hands, no
washcloth. It would have been too rough, she said, on my crop-scorched
bottom. I felt her slim fingers grip my bottomcheeks. She squeezed
them as if they were halved tomatoes, ripe and round. She yanked them
apart, suddenly. I cried out. Katie looked up.
“Oh, don’t,” I said. “That hurt.”
“Of course it did, dear,” Jane said. She let my bottomcheeks
ease back together, still held by her hands, cupped, felt, held. I
stiffened, then relented and let my weight sink fully upon her firm
palms. My bottom in her hands. My body. My self.
“Waht’s willprowler?” Katie asked from her corner refuge in the
tub.
“Stop playing with that duck and scrub yourself,” Jane replied.
“I want to know what willprowler is,” Katie said. Jane
frowned, ignored her.
“Yes, that is what you are seeking,” Jane whispered to me. She
licked my ear. I shivered. My bosoms quavered on my chest. They were
round, like globes. Their tips rose as she licked me. “A will that is
powerful enough to use you, to break your inhibitions and carry you
forward to all the pangs and pleasures life has to offer,” Jane told
me. “Ah, you are so special. Your bottom is so perfectly round, so
tight. A temptation, even to me, and I’m a girl, just like you. You
bring out lusts in me that I didn’t know I had,” Jane breathed.
I felt a tightness in my belly. Her words aroused me and yet,
as always, they sent icy shoots of fear up my spine. I pressed my hands
to my thighs. I let them drift upward. I gazed at my pubis, over my
breasts, and saw bits of soap bubbles clinging within the tight curls.
I flicked at them with fingertips.
“After your bath, we must continue your training,” Jane told
me. “But not here. Here things are too easy. And there are
distractions,” she whispered to me, with a quick glance past me, at
Katie. “We must take an hour, perhaps two, and go elsewhere. We’ll
come back here afterward. There is a woman I should like you to
visit.” She felt me stiffen again, lifting my bottom up off her hands.
She stroked the cheeks of my ass lightly with her fingertips. She made
whorls in the soap on my ass with her fingertips. It stung, a little,
when she touched me, due to her hand slaps in the bed, and her crop
slashes. But although her hand had been applied fiercely, her crop had
been more measured, less harsh. I felt a warmth in my derriere where
I’d been struck. It suffused my whole seat and made me feel desired.
Desirable.
“What-- what is the purpose of our going?” I asked. My voice
was high and quavery, like Katie’s. It was my nervousness that made it
so. I felt frightened in Jane’s hands. Yet, curiously, I also felt
loved.
“The woman is an old school mistress,” Jane said. “She ran an
all girls’ school in England in her prime. Now she’s retired. She was
once attractive, but not as pretty as you. And now she’s old, though
still elegant. She respects great beauty as you have, though she will
not, of course, admit that to you. For you will be going there to feel
the power of her will. She has an indomitable will. She is
no-nonsense, although you’ll be encouraged to deserve what she must give
you.”
“What must she give me?” I asked, my voice sounding more
worried than ever. Yet my titties stood up like two fine points upon
the graceful mounds of my bubbies.
“She must give you an application of her will. So you can feel
it,” Jane said. “It will make you stronger in your own will to feel
hers. And of course it can only be given corporally, of course. We
will only be staying an hour or two. We do not have time for the slow
building of will that can take place from one mind to another. That
takes months, or years. This will be short and quick. She’ll give you
something to remember her by.”
I was certain I’d pull my bottom out of Jane’s hands and
refuse, but instead, I heard my voice ask, “Will it hurt?”
“Of course it will hurt, darling,” Jane laughed. “It must make
an impression.”
“Oh, I don’t wish to be pierced or....” branded, I was going to
say, but I couldn’t think of the word.
“You are much too young for that,” Jane agreed. “This will not
be permanent, except in the mind. Do you agree to go?”
“Will I cum?” I asked naughtily. I still remembered how her
hand on my ass made me frig myself with greater enthusiasm.
“You are a bad girl,” Jane said to me. She knew what I was
asking. “Your hair must be perfect, of course, and there must be just a
touch of makeup, perhaps a little too much for a girl of 13, to make you
more deserving,” Jane said. “She does not like to see young girls
putting on airs, and makeup. She is from the old school, and blames a
girl who gets herself into various doings with men. She does not blame
the men. Nor should she, in my opinion,” Jane added. “I’ll do your
makeup. Not too thick, but just enough to show her your true opinion of
yourself. And of course, like I said, your hair must be elegant and
perfect, yet girlish, as a girl might wear at school.”
“I can fix my hair,” I said. After all, I was only 13. If I
didn’t know how to arrange a schoolgirl’s hair, what did I know?
“Mmmm, I will do it,” Jane said. “Just relax. Your time will
come in an hour or so. Until then, try to relax.” She picked up a
washcloth and rubbed it across my bottom. I flinched. She seemed not
to notice. “Let me finish your bath,” she said. “Then we’ll do your
makeup and hair.”
We drove in Jane’s car. Rain splattered the windshield. I
wanted to sit up front with her but she insisted I travel in the back
seat. I was a child again, being taken to lessons at school. It was
just she and I, and the rain. Katie was left behind, to the good graces
of Nick and Rob. When we left, they were playing Clue. Katie was
having trouble. I sensed Rob was cheating, to let her do better in a
game she was failing at. He didn’t want her to throw a tantrum if she
lost. They played in the living room, on the floor. The men were
clothed very casually, in jeans. No shirts. Katie was naked,
preferring to be just as she was, which, since there were no clothes
that fit her in the house, was just as well. Her leg irons lay nearby.
Perhaps they would lock her into them again, perhaps not. I paused to
kiss Rob goodbye as we left. He told me he’d be expecting me in a few
hours. Katie said I was going to see a prowler. I didn’t like leaving
Rob but I sensed he wished me to go. I even guessed he might have been
the one who suggested the trip to Jane. So it was he ordering me,
really, to go to the school mistress, I think, and that thought thrilled
me, that he would think of me that intensely, and I wondered if he might
not be following us, in the dark, to see what happened to me. Nick
could be left to babysit Katie. I felt a rivalry between herself, and
me. Yet I sensed I was winning it. Despite being taken away from him.
Nick was just a friend. Perhaps a good friend, but I felt
nothing special toward him, save that natural admiration a girl has a
for a man, and vice versa. I didn’t feel the dark, terrible lust for
him that I felt for Rob. So I sat in the back seat of Jane’s car,
obeying what I thought might be Rob’s directive, and wondering, glancing
back now and then. Wondering if he might be following us.
We arrived at a modest home, in a less expensive neighborhood.
It was set back from the street. There was a park across from it. The
nearest homes were set a conservative distance away from it. It was as
if they were afraid to be closer.
We got out. Jane opened an umbrella and, with no thought for
herself, placed it carefully over my head.
“A mother must take care that her daughter arrives looking
respectable,” Jane told me. We walked briskly up the front walk to the
home. Jane wore a black hat, a black dress, with elegant heels. They
clicked loudly across the wet sidewalk. I wore a long mink coat. It
was, in my new role as her daughter, as the daughter of Rob, supposed to
be mine. But I was just their guest, really, not their daughter, so it
was actually Jane’s. I wore high heels.
We reached the door. Jane knocked on it for me. We waited a
moment in the rain. The house looked dark. Then I saw a light come on
in the front window. A moment later the door opened.
“Hello. Ah, Jane. Your neice is here,” the woman who answered
the door said.
“Yes,” Jane replied. Now my role had shifted, slightly. I was
Jane’s neice, not her daughter. All was fluid. I didn’t matter. What
mattered was that I was doing Rob’s wishes, and he wished me here. For
an hour. It would be quick, short. And...
“Come in, come in,” the woman said. She looked to be in her
late 60’s. “Welcome to my private school,” the woman said.
“I just need a baby sitter for an hour or so, while I go out,”
Jane said.
“Of course,” the woman replied. She closed the door behind
us. The room we were in was a living room. It looked pleasant,
respectable. There was a fire going in one corner.
“She’s all dressed for bed,” Jane said. “She’s already had her
bath.”
“Fine,” the woman answered. She looked at me, piercingly.
Then her eyes softend. “May I please take your coat?” she asked. But
it was not really a question. More like an order.
“Yes, ma’am,” I answered. I thought I heard a car pull up
along the curb, where we’d parked.
The woman took my coat. Underneath it I wore only a baby doll
nightie. It was short, reaching only down to my belly button. It had
graceful holes cut out of it for my bosoms, letting them be seen. My
titties bulged through my nightie, all naked, their tips quivering and
stiff. My nightie was decorated with lace underneath the undersides of
my bosoms. Above, there was only the bare outline of a bra. I looked
as if a too-short skirt had been attached to a bra with no cups. Yet
the ‘skirt’ of my nightie fell no lower than my navel. In back, my
entire back was bare, from my neck all the way down to my heels. Only
where the bra/halter part of my nightie closed in back was there any
covering. My too-short babydoll was cut in such a way that it swept off
the sides of my back, not covering it. Only my belly was covered, and
then only down to my navel. My hips were bare. I wore no panties. My
bush showed, my thighs, my calves. I was nude, save for the nothing
nightie hanging round my midriff. I wore my hair in long, flowing
blonde pigtails on either side of my face. Big, decorative bows, that
matched the color of my nightie, tied my hair off into the twin tails.
“This is her sleep wear?” the old woman asked, taking my mink
coat from me.
“It is what modern girls wear,” Jane explained.
“And the makeup? She wears makeup to bed?” the old woman
asked. She hung my coat in a closet by the front door. Jane closed her
umbrella and sat it by the front door and removed her own coat.
Underneath, she wore a cire dress. It was black, like her coat. It was
decollette in its cut, almost too much, showing her cleavage almost to
the red circles of her nipples. Her breasts were white, untanned. Her
arms and face had been tanned, last summer, but she’d lost most of her
tan during the fall. There was a slit up each side of her dress. When
she walked it could be seen that she wore no panties, for the slits ran
all the way from the bottom of her long dress, where her heels stood
poised, all the way up to her waist.
Jane was carrying a small bag. She set it down on the floor.
She drew several items from it.
“I brought her bottle,” Jane said to the woman. “It has warm
milk in it, in case she gets hungry.”
“Very good,” the woman said. Her eyes flicked back and forth,
between myself and Jane. I wanted to giggle, this was so awkward, yet
it was serious too, for Rob had ordered it and it was, truly, in all its
silliness, designed to teach me something. Something I’d remember for a
long time.
“And here is her bear,” Jane said. She showed the woman a
small teddy bear. “And here I have a change of diapers. She refused to
wear any, as you can see. There’s some baby powder also.”
“Very good,” the woman said. “But I do not like her refusing
to wear her diapers.”
“She wet the bed this evening,” Jane said. “She claims she’s a
big girl, though, and donesn’t need diapers. Of course big girls wear
panties, but she refuses those too, as you can see.”
“Yes,” the woman agreed. “Have you been spanking her
regularly?”
“Not regularly,” Jane replied.
“That is the problem,” the woman said. She looked at me. I
shrank under her gaze. I felt both foolish and frightened at the same
time. And aroused, too, for I had heard heavy footsteps pass by the
door, outside. Somewhere, now, a door opened and closed, inside the
house.
“Who is that?” I asked.
“I didn’t hear anyone,” the woman answered.
“Nor did I,” said Jane. I looked in her eyes and saw she had,
but wasn’t admitting to it.
“You require me to look after her while you go out?” the woman
asked.
“Yes,” Jane said.
“You are provocatively dressed,” the woman told Jane. “No
wonder she won’t wear her panties. You don’t have any on either.”
“Ah, it is cooler, though, without them,” Jane said.
“It is downright cold outside. This is the fall,” the woman
told Jane. “Perhaps you’d better stay indoors, while I look after her.
Without panties on, you might catch cold.”
“As you wish,” Jane said.
“It is good that you brought her,” the woman said. She took my
hand. “You will call me Miss Wood,” she told me. “It is not my real
name, but real names are unimportant here. And what shall you be known
by, young lady?”
“Raquella,” I said, making up a name. It was Raquel, from
Raquel Welch, who’d I’d seen in Barbarella, and When Dinosaurs Ruled the
Earth. I added an “a” because the woman had a thoroughly English
accent, and I wanted to be European. “It is French,” I told her.
“Raquella,” the woman said. She rolled the ‘r’ as they do in
Europe. It sounded classy. “A French girl. I see. Well I had some
French girls in my school in England, and they always had a very high
opinion of themselves. They wore too much make up and insisted on
violating the dress code, not wearing their uniforms properly, but
shortening their skirts. And not wearing bras, under their blouses.”
“That is exactly how I dress at my school,” I told her. Which
was true, in part. I’d gotten in trouble for bouncing around in a
t-shirt, with no bra on. I’d been late for the bus. I used to skip
wearing a bra last year, sometimes, and nobody noticed. But this year,
I guess my boobs were bigger. They noticed. I had to spend time in
study hall, after school, for not wearing a bra. Which only made the
day longer, and meant I spent even longer without a bra on. School can
be stupid sometimes.
“Well, Raquella, I am sorry to see you dress for bed so
provacatively,” Miss Wood told me. I heard footsteps in the house. I
glanced at Jane. She pretended to ignore them. I didn’t know whether
Miss Wood heard them or not. She had grey hair, wrinkles. Perhaps her
hearing was not what it once was. “However, there is a certain
advantage. If you should need to be disciplined, your bottom is already
bare. Turn around. Let me see it.”
I put my hands to my seat. I gulped. Things were getting more
overt now. With a quick glance at Jane, who frowned at my
recalcitrance, I turned and showed my bottom to Miss Wood. I was sure
Rob watched, from somewhere in the house. I was glad he’d followed us,
leaving Katie with Nick. I had him almost to myself now, except for his
wife. Miss Wood obviously was too old to hold his interest.
“Take away your hands,” Miss Wood told me. “You have a lovely
bottom. If you’re not going to wear panties, then you shouldn’t try to
hide it with your hands.”
Slowly I withdrew my hands from my ass.
“Ah,” the woman said. She bent. She moved closer to me. She
peered at my naked seat. “I see she has several marks upon it. They
are? Ah, yes. Temporary. From the use of an implement, I assume?”
“Yes,” Jane said. “She wet the bed earlier this evening, as I
said.”
Miss Wood nodded. “I’m glad to see you’re not entirely remiss
in your disciplining of her,” she said. “But such a round, white,
lovely bottom as she has is very enticing to men. She will get herself
pregnant if she isn’t properly educated.”
“Yes, I agree,” Jane replied. I gulped. Miss Wood’s words
were closer to home than she knew. Even now, I wasn’t sure when I’d
last swallowed a pill. Somehow, though, I’d managed to escape the cave
I’d shared with Nick and his friends, without becoming enceinte.
“Let us go into my class room,” Miss Wood suggested to Jane.
“I would be remiss not to give her a few evening lessons, before tucking
her into bed. With your approval, of course.”
“Please do with her whatever you feel is appropriate,” Jane
said. “Bambi, I mean, Raquella, dear, Miss Wood will escort you into
her class room and have you write a little on the board, and also show
her your posture, and a few other things. Please understand that my
husband Rob made me take lessons from Miss Wood too, some months back,
so I am only requiring of you what was required of me.”
“Of course,” I answered. I felt she wanted me to call her
mommie, but I couldn’t bring myself to be that foolish. Especially
given what she’d promised me in the bath, that this was a visit that
would introduce me to the force of feminine will. In a way I’d
remember.
Miss Wood took my hand. It was firm. It felt cold. It made
me flinch, the coldness of it. It was coated with cream like old women
sometimes smear all over their faces. My body felt flushed and warm,
despite my nudity. My babydoll flipped absently round my waist. My
heels were high, too high, spiked heels that made me feel tall and made
it difficult for me to walk unless I concentrated only on walking. Yet
Jane had insisted I wear them. We’d stopped at a shoe store on the way
over, trading furry slippers I wore for heels. I had, of course, kept
my mink coat on in the store, to the bemusement of the curious store
clerk.
Now I was free of the coat, and without the collar I’d worn
earlier, or the foot manacles. I liked my babydoll but I sensed its
overt sexiness displeased Miss Wood. Did she enjoy being displeased? I
couldn’t tell. Perhaps a part of her enjoyed it, but another, deeper
part of her was envious. Jane had said she’d never been as pretty as
me.
We walked through Miss Wood’s living room, down a hall.
“Raquel, you are a spoilt American girl,” Miss Wood told me.
“We were very poor in England. We did not have all your priviledges and
luxuries that you have.” I wished to remind her that I was French, in
the game we were playing for Rob, but said nothing. “Your parents have
pampered you, and your American teachers also, Raquel,” Miss Wood told
me. She put her hand on the handle of a door in the hall. She opened
it. Inside, I saw a small class room. It had a globe, a flag. An
English flag. There was also a blackboard, and a single desk, plus
several chairs. A paper strip of alphabet letters hung above the
blackboard. There was a pointer standing in a corner next to the
blackboard. When I looked closer, I saw it wasn’t a pointer, but a
cane. It was made of bamboo.
“Go to the blackboard and draw a male penis for me,” Miss Wood
said. “That’s right. A male penis. With the testicular sac underneath
it. I don’t think you’ve been paying attention in health class. Draw
it out for me, and label all the parts. Can you do that?”
I looked at her rather blankly. I’d seen a cock. I could draw
a cock. But to label everything. Well, I would try. She let go of my
hand. I began walking toward the blackboard.
“No, you are doing it all wrong,” Miss Wood told me. I paused
in mid-stride. I hadn’t even reached the blackboard yet. How could I
be doing anything wrong?
“You American girls,” Miss Wood scolded. “Do you think you are
going to be President of the United States? Well, perhaps. If you
don’t get yourself pregnant. But you, Raquelle, have the body of a
fashion model. I want you to walk as befits your build. Since you are
built like a model, you will walk like one. In the middle ages in
England people accepted their proper station in life. They did not
aspire to what they had not been born for. You have a model’s body.
Therefore, you will learn to walk like a model. Swing your hips. Give
a certain lift to your step when you walk, so that your fine young
bosoms bounce.”
I obeyed. Hoping Rob was watching, I walked with a salacious
grind to my hips. I let my boobies bounce as much as gravity would
allow. I felt the tips stiffen to hard coral points. I was excited. A
moistness began to dampen my bare muff.
“Turn. Come back towards me. We will draw on the board in a
minute. First practise walking. Concentrate, dear. You look unsteady
in your heels. Tch. Tch. Do you wear sneakers all day, is that it? I
know you American girls. Dirty sneakers and those awful, ragged-edged,
greasy wide jeans. The ones that look like they’ll fall down at any
minute. Well, here we can see your nice, bare legs. Show them off.
And your muff. How pretty your furred pussy looks. Show it. Thrust
your hips forward as you come to a stop, before you turn around to walk
back toward the blackboard. Yes. Shove your twat at me. It is a
model’s walk, on the runway. There. Now turn. Show me your bottom
again. Make it wiggle, girl. Men might be watching. Wiggle your ass
so you can sell lots of clothes for your agency. Are your boobies
bouncing? Well, we aren’t selling bras today, are we? No, just
nighties with holes where the bra should be. There, you are doing
better. Now draw a cock for me on the board, so I know you’re at least
aware of the dangers men present to a young girl like yourself in this
world,” Miss Wood said.
I found a piece of chalk in a tray along the bottom of the
blackboard. It was new. It was pink in color. There was an eraser
beside it but I didn’t need the eraser. Not yet. I picked up the chalk
and began drawing.
“You draw so sedately,” Miss Wood said. She sat in a chair
now, with Jane sitting beside her. They were wooden chairs. I hoped
Rob, somehow, was watching. “Wiggle your ass as you draw. You must
always be thinking like a model. Who knows? You may have to make a
career of it. Work your hips as you draw on the board, girl. You’re
drawing a cock, Raquella. It should excite you. Make it bigger. Men
who date a fine girl like yourself, who is a model, have big cocks. Do
you wish to date Pee Wee Herman?”
I drew salaciously at the board, as she commanded me, as I
hoped Rob had secretly commanded her. I wiggled my ass back and forth
as I drew. I made a very big penis on the board with my chalk. I put a
big testicle sac underneath it.
“Put hair on the testes,” Miss Wood called out to me. “Do you
wish to date little boys?”
“No, Miss Wood,” I replied. I put lots of hair on the balls,
drawing it in with my chalk.
“Now where is the crown?” Miss Wood asked. “Yes, that’s it.
Don’t forget to label the pee hole. Did you draw a pee hole?”
I suffered under her directions. She wished all the parts of
the penis labelled. “Where is the root?” she asked me. “Keep wiggling
your hips as you write in all the parts. You should be excited, girl!
Put your hand between your legs. Show me you’re excited by the big cock
you’re drawing.”
I put my hand to my muff. It felt moist. Well, it would be
even more moist in a minute, I told myself. Reluctantly I began rubbing
it. I felt the tight curls there, the labial lips. I sought within
them for my spot.
Miss Wood was implacable. She made me draw another cock, and
then another, erasing each one as I went along. She said each time that
I had been wilfull, and not drawn it as perfectly as befitted the
“perfection” of the male penis. And she kept me rubbing myself, all the
while, making me grow more excited by the minute. And she reminded me
to grind my hips as I worked, and to make a display of my nude bottom,
gyrating it all about, as if I were on a runway, with other models,
being observed by men. Except, if I were on a runway, I’d at least have
something more on than just this winsome, see-through nightie. Unless,
I reminded myself, it was a runway that was featuring a private lingerie
showing. Perhaps a showing for men only.
“Oooooh! I can’t draw anymore!” I declared after making the
third penis. My snatch felt wet. It had made my fingers all wet. I
looked at the penis I’d drawn on the blackboard. It was the most
perfect penis I’d ever drawn in my life.
“Very well,” Miss Wood replied. “You have done your best. But
I sense a certain lack of appreciation in your drawing. Technically, it
is accurate. I shouldn’t wish to harm the delicate self esteem of a
pampered girl like yourself. But there should be more of that
intangible quality of admiration in your drawing,” Miss Wood said. “My
husband died when I was only 30. I think you spoiled American girls
just take the male penis for granted, Raquelle. It is a work of art.
But you treat it diffidently. That sort of diffidence will wind up
getting you pregnant, because you don’t have a proper fear and
admiration of it. A male penis is like Thor, like Jupiter, the God who
Thunders. If it strikes, you will be with child. Come here, girl. You
must learn proper respect for the male penis, or it will be your
undoing. And swing your hips as you walk. No, you don’t have to erase
the board. Erase the board!”
“I was just trying to be neat,” I said meekly.
“She wishes to erase such a perfect picture of a male penis,”
Miss Wood said scornfully to Jane.
“Yes, it looks just like my husband’s, and she wishes to erase
it,” Jane said.
“See? These spoilt girls. No respect, and she is still
unsteady in her heels. Come, girl. You require a sound thrashing to
instill some respect in you. Fortunately I worked part-time at a girls’
reformatory school, after I retired. It was in America, though, and
they let me go. They said I was too severe.”
“Tch,” Jane said.
30
----------------------- Dreamgirls! -----------------------
-Other stories: type
http://www.dejanews.com/
into your browser’s “Location” window. Press your “return” key.
Under “Quick Search”, type in: roller39@idt.net
Press your “return” key.
-Other providers:
Usenet Newsgroup: alt.sex.stories.moderated
or by e-mail: file.request@backdrop.com
or via the Web: http://www.netusa.net/~eli/erotica/assm/
-Free minicomics: send a stamped, self-addressed envelope to: Jim
Corrigan, P.O. Box 3663, Phenix City, AL 36868
- JOIN the world’s greatest organization! Send $35.00 to The North
American Man/Boy Love Association for a one-year membership.
NAMBLA, P.O. Box 174, Midtown Station, New York, NY 10018.
-Naughty Naked Dreamgirls (Library of Congress ISSN: 1070-1427) is
copyright 1997 and a trademark of Andrew Roller.
-END OF story EMISSION
--
+--------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `------------+
| story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us | story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us |
| Archive site +--------------------+------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ |
\ <URL:http://www.netusa.net/~eli/erotica/assm/> .../assm/faq.html> /