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From: Andrew Roller <roller39@IDT.NET>
Subject: Nov 27 Enslaved to Eros part 3 of 3 (NND)
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_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
ENSLAVED TO EROS
_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
Chapter Three
I had arrived at Miss Wood’s made up, with my hair done up in
pigtails and a fetching cami doing its best to keep me modest. I’d
touched up my makeup behind the screen, in her pretend doctor’s office,
and she and Jane had attended to my dell, giving it a special
beautification. Yet it had all been utterly ruined by the lusty
depredations of the three boys. They’d left me with sperm oozing
profusely from my cunt, and with nipples so sore the air itself seemed
to sting them. As I was undone from the table by Miss Wood and Jane,
and helped up, I felt like a complete tramp. I could barely stand when
they put my bare feet onto the floor. Sperm ran freely down the insides
of my cunt. I felt like a boy must feel, when he’s messed in his
pants. Except I was a girl. Girls didn’t have sperm, unless they were
slutty enough to let boys shoot it all over them and up inside them.
“My, how messy she is,” Miss Wood told Jane. “She has no
respect for her body.”
“I agree,” Jane smiled. “She smells like a boys’ locker room.”
“And a boys’ latrine, too,” Miss Wood said. “Look. She’s let
boys shoot their jism all over her. Next thing you know, they’ll be
peeing on her too!”
Jane laughed and her eyes gazed at me mirthfully. We’d already
played that game, in her bed, with her husband and Nick, earlier in the
evening.
“She is a total slut,” Jane agreed. “And I’ll bet she’s
pregnant too, with all that sperm inside her.”
“No doubt,” Miss Wood said. “Fortunately a girl as young as
she is can still be dealt with. Let’s take her back to my classroom,
where I can deal with her properly.”
“Will it be sufficient?” Jane asked. “She has a poor posture.
Look how unsteadily she stands. Perhaps she needs to be put someplace
she can be tied.”
“Yes,” Miss Wood agreed.
“Oh, please! I can’t take anymore!” I whimpered.
Jane grasped me by my right breast, as if I were a sack of
potatoes, which, indeed, I felt very much like, at that moment, being so
completely used by the boys and left unceremoniously by them on the
table, their jism running down the insides of my thighs. I winced. It
hurt for the air itself to touch my tits, let alone Jane’s fingers.
Miss Wood rubbed her hand all over the bare skin of my bottom, savoring
its nakedness.
“Love is firmness, Bambi,” Jane told me.
Miss Wood peered at me closely.
“She has had enough,” Miss Wood declared.
“Hmmm?” Jane asked.
“I will not take a girl beyond what she can tolerate,” Miss
Wood said.
“But with me you--” Jane began.
“You were older, dear,” Miss Wood said. “She is only 13.”
“You wish us to leave, then?” Jane asked.
“Yes, dear. Though I regret it, and have had no satisfaction
for myself,” Miss Wood said. She brushed a hand back through her hair.
“Yick!” she said. She pulled her fingers out of her hair. They were
laden with sticky jism that one of the boys, in his eagerness to stick
himself somewhere, had shot into it. She looked at her cum laden hand.
“Save, that is, for the bit of playing I did with the boys.” She
smiled. “There will be other nights when she can taste the cane.”
“It is a disappointment,” Jane said.
“I do not wish to break her down, but to build her up, through
this training,” Miss Wood said. “It is designed to enhance her
wilpower. Were we to proceed any further tonight, her training would
have the opposite effect.” Miss Wood kissed my cheek. “You have done
well, Bambi. Feel proud of yourself. You have shown great boldness in
the face of the unknown. You will make a very fine model, or whatever
it is you wish to be in life.”
I turned my head to her. Tears, already brimming in my eyes,
began streaming down my face.
“Miss Wood,” I stammered. “Will I-- Will we meet again?” It
seemed a very odd question, considering all she’d put me through. Every
fiber of my being wished simply to escape, to get out of that awful
house, and away from her. And yet, she had been merciful to me, in the
end. And she’d pampered me. She’d paid attention to me. She’d found
needs I didn’t even know I had, and filled them.
“Perhaps,” Miss Wood said. There was a sparkle in her eye.
She kissed my cheek. “Perhaps we will,” she said.
I was given a quick bath upstairs by both women, so I wouldn’t
make a mess in Jane’s car. Miss Wood wrapped a towel around her head to
keep from getting more of the boys’ jism on me. Then, at the front
door, she kissed me goodnight. She did it right on my lips, with the
front door behind me. Jane was holding it open. I was wrapped in a
big, fluffy towel, but it was wrapped high on me, and as Miss Wood drew
me up on my tiptoes, kissing me, the towel rose on my body. It exposed
the underside of my fanny. It was nude. The wind blew in the front
door. It touched my bare ass. I shivered. I hoped nobody was passing
by out on the road.
“Goodbye,” Miss Wood breathed, letting me part from her.
Impulsively I rose on my toes, on my own this time, and kissed her
cheek.
“Night,” I said. Then I nearly collapsed, I was so exhausted.
Miss Wood caught me in her arms and passed me to Jane. She took my hand
and I walked unsteadily, a towel wrapped warmly round my head and
another around my body, but my heinie still showing its underside, down
the front steps. Jane carried her bag, that she’d brought things in;
some played with, some not. Diapers, a baby bottle. The camisole I’d
worn. A pacifier.
Jane drove me back to her home. I fell asleep in the car.
When we arrived, she woke me, and led me sleepily into her house. Katie
was still there, with Rob and Nick. They were still in the living
room. But the Clue game had been put aside. Instead, Katie lay on the
living room floor. There was a container of Redi-Wip in her hand. She
was lying on her back, merrily squirting whipped cream all over herself
as the two men bent over her. They both had stiff erections. Their
eyes showed hunger as they lifted them to Jane and I.
“Are you boys having fun?” Jane asked.
“Yeah,” Rob answered. “How was your visit to Miss Wood’s?” I
began to falter, standing beside Jane, and she caught me.
“She has had enough for this evening,” Jane told her husband.
“I’m going to take her home.”
“Alright,” Rob said. He looked at me. But his eyes didn’t
mirror the passion I felt for him. I was just a girl. Young,
attractive, but just a girl. He’d had girls work for him before, in his
flower shop, and no doubt I wasn’t the last. I felt relief, in a way.
I felt embarrassed at having peed in the bed with him and now I wasn’t
sure I liked him. Perhaps it was just jealousy. He’d stayed behind, at
the house, after all. With Katie. I looked at her. She squirted cream
into her dell.
“Some goes here too, of course!” Katie announced. “I saw this
once on Playboy!”
“You’re too young to watch Playboy,” Nick told her.
“Yes, but I’m not too young to *be* Playboy!” Katie assured
him. “I’m the dessert of the month.”
“Or of the night,” Rob sniggered. Katie, if she heard it,
ignored him. Instead she turned her head and looked back at myself and
Jane. “I’m going home too, just as soon as we have dessert!” Katie
called out to us. Was she afraid we’d leave her alone again, a
12-year-old, all by herself with two grown, randy men? I did not know.
As for myself, I was almost beyond exhaustion. I could barely stand. I
groped with my hands at the sofa. Jane saw it.
“Yes, dear. You have had quite a night,” Jane said. “Was it
scary being bound to that table, while strange boys fucked you?”
“Very,” I said, almost inaudibly. She laid me down on the
couch.
Katie rolled on her tummy on the floor. She handed the
Redi-Wip to Nick. “Put some on my bottom,” she told him. “I want it
all over me, just like I saw on T.V.”
“If you insist,” Nick said. “Mind if I cool down my erection
first?”
“Yummy!” was all Katie said in reply. Nick pointed the can at
his dick and fired it.
“Ohhh!” Nick said. “That feel pretty good.” He levelled it at
Katie’s bottom. Slyly he reached out and parted the cheeks of her ass.
“Oh, not in my hole!” Katie screeched. Nick gave her a squirt
right between the halves of her bottom.
“Yoook!” Katie shouted. “Don’t!” She wiggled her bare
heinie. Cold, wet cream oozed up from between her tight cheeks. “That
feels funny,” she gasped.
“How about if I put something a little more substantial there?”
Nick asked. There was a touch of menace in his voice. Quickly he
mounted her, straddling her small body. He put his cock to the furrow
of her behind.
“Noooooo! I can’t take any more that way!” Katie screamed.
Her scream was so loud it made my ears hurt. Sleepily my eyes closed,
then opened. Was Nick really going to force himself up her ass? She’d
already been violated there once tonight.
No, he was not. I watched, groggily, as Nick rolled Katie on
her back. She kicked up her legs. Her knees bumped his testicles. He
squirted cold, wet cream into the warm place between her legs. She’d
already done herself there, but not as thoroughly as Nick now did her.
When she was piled high with cream, almost as if she sported a cock,
there was so much of it piled between her legs, Nick bent and kissed
her. His eyes flamed with passion. Real passion, I thought. Not just
lust, as Rob seemed to show Had Nick fallen in love with Katie in the
few hours I’d been gone? I did not know. She was only 12. He was a
grown man. Still, whatever his eyes showed, it seemed better, I
thought, than what Rob’s eyes had offered, I thought, summing up the
evening. I was half in and half out of sleep now. Rob, it seemed to
me, was only waiting for one more opportunity to spend. Even Miss Wood
had shown more real passion for me than Rob had. But one had to
experience things like this to know them truly. I could have sworn,
before the evening, that he truly loved me, and was only waiting to rid
himself of his wife to have me forever.
Something about Jane’s teasing got to me more deeply than I’d
imagined it had. Speaking to me in the bath, after we’d peed in her
bed, before we went to Miss Wood’s, I wasn’t sure if Jane was serious.
About bondage. And discipline. Real bondage and discipline. I knew I
wasn’t. I’d simply been passionate, confused aroused. Yet, a month
later, shopping for my mom at the grocery, I bumped into Miss Wood. She
seemed happy to see me. I wondered if I’d feel embarrassed, talking to
her in the grocery. Yet except for a blush I managed it okay. She
asked me how I was doing. I told her I would be on Christmas break
soon. She asked if I had a boyfriend to enjoy Christmas with.
“Yes,” I lied. I had several guys who liked me. Guys were
plentiful, for a girl like myself. But none of them were special. And
I had Larissa, of course, my girlfriend. And Katie, who called me once
or twice, to ask about Nick. I wasn’t sure if she was seeing Nick
regularly or not. She lived far from my house. But Nick, of course,
being a man, could drive wherever he wished. Perhaps he visited her, at
her house. I didn’t know. Sometimes I dreamt of her. She reminded me
so much of Amber, who’d I’d ‘done time’ with, in the cave, as Larissa
and I referred to our experience there now. Once I dreamed that Katie
and I went to Candyland together, and made all the candy behave. A
silly dream.
“The week after Christmas I am flying to California,” Miss Wood
told me. “I have a small cabin there, out in the desert. I have
chickens, a pig, a horse.”
“A horse?!” I asked. My heart jumped. I loved horses, though
I’d never gotten much of a chance to ride any, except once or twice at
the fair.
“Yes,” Miss Wood said. “I had planned to bring a friend but...
she isn’t able to cum,” Miss Wood said. She bit her lower lip. She
seemed to say the word ‘cum’, deliberately, as if to imply that the
friend might have come along, but backed out, at the last minute, due to
some kind of mental reservation. She looked into my eyes wonderingly.
I found myself gazing back, with equal curiosity. A kind of excitement
passed between us, unspoken. I knew if I accompanied her there would be
more riding than that what one does on a horse. She was honest about
that. She didn’t say anything, but I could see it in her eyes. I said
nothing, only gazed up at her. “Of course, you are only 13,” Miss Wood
said. I nodded again. I was about to turn away, to decline her, when I
remembered how she’d indulged me, even as she scolded me, at her house.
I had felt quite special that evening, with my hair done up in pretty
pigtails, forced to draw cocks on her blackboard.
“I-- I might be able to cum,” I told her. I tried to give the
word ‘cum’ the same inflexion she had.
“Oh, that would be wonderful,” Miss Wood said. “It would just
be you and me, of course. After you’ve had a chance to enjoy Christmas
with your boyfriend.”
“Yes,” I nodded.
“Let me give you my number,” Miss Wood said. She drew a
scented slip of paper from her purse. She wrote on it. She handed it
to me. I looked at it. Her phone number was written upon it and, above
her number, the words, ‘Miss Wood.’ I knew it wasn’t her real name.
“Raquella,” Miss Wood said. I looked up at her again. That
wasn’t my real name, of course, but she didn’t ask me for my real name.
“You are special to me. Really, you are. I shall hold the seat just
for you, whether you are able to make it or not. Right up to the last
minute. Then, if you can’t...” she paused. “cum, I shall go alone. I
do not mind being alone.”
“I’ll try,” I told her.
“No one must know where we’re going,” Miss Wood said. “But you
will return safely, of course. You needn’t worry about that.”
“It’s possible I could--” I said, thinking.
“Only if you wish to,” Miss Wood said.
My mom got a new boyfriend for Christmas. They met in the
bowling alley. I didn’t like him much; he was overweight. But mom
liked the attention he gave her. I decided to slip away for a week and
accompany ‘Miss Wood’ on her trip. I knew it would be unusual, and
somehow that intrigued me, even against my better judgement. There was
something magnetic about her. Something I seemed to have been looking
for, without even knowing it. Of course, it would have been more fun to
be with a man for a week, but a man hadn’t bumped into me and offered me
what she was offering. A week of... something. I wasn’t sure what.
Just that I’d get plenty of ‘riding’ in, hopefully on her horse. The
thought of abandoning my mother for a week and going off into the
unknown with Miss Wood sent chills down my spine. And it revolted me a
little, too, for it would just be the two of us. Myself and another
woman. And a servant. Miss Wood had mentioned something about a
servant, when I called her on the phone. But it had been clear from our
conversation that the week would focus on me, and the servant wouldn’t
be important. I guessed it wasn’t a man or, if it was a man, it wasn’t
a man I’d be interested in. It would just be myself, and Miss Wood.
And her horse.
I managed to make the flight. I’d let my mom worry for a
week. I left her a note, saying only I’d be back. Miss Wood gave me a
kiss when we met at the airport. It was an honest kiss, right on my
lips.
“I like your tan!” she told me.
“I went to a tanning salon for the last week, like you
suggested,” I told her.
“Very well. You will look even more special in the nude,
then,” Miss Wood replied. She took my hand. I looked around to see if
anyone in the terminal had heard her comment. Apparently, they had
not. My hips wiggled nervously as she led me ticket agent and then on
down the speedway to our plane.
We flew on United to California. When we arrived, Miss Wood
rented a car. It was a convertiable. I liked it. I had not ridden in
a convertible before. Miss Wood put the top down. Despite there just
being the two of us, she continued to insist that I call her ‘Miss
Wood.’ I didn’t mind. I was Raquella. We drove out into the
countryside, through dry hills, along California’s freeways until, at
last, we turned onto a smaller road.
Miss Wood pulled off to the side of the road and looked at me.
She turned off the car’s engine.
“Raquella, I would like for you to take off your top,” Miss
Wood said to me. I felt myself jump in my seat. I stared at her. A
bird circled overhead and let out a screech. In the distance, cows
grazed in a field.
“Why?” I asked. I tugged at the top button of my blouse. Yet
I didn’t open it. Not yet.
“It is unlikely we will see another car, from here on,” Miss
Wood said to me. “You are coming from a cold climate. New York is very
cold this time of year, as you know. I’d like you to feel the warmth of
the California sun on your bare bosoms as we drive along. It is not far
to my cabin from here. You will not be exposed long enough to the sun
to burn. Perhaps to tan just a little, on your breasts, but not much,
because I prefer a girl to have white breasts, as you do. But take off
your top, and your bra. I want you bare to your hips. I would insist
that you be completely nude, but sometimes the Highway Patrol does come
back here, though not as far back as I live, thankfully. If you are
totally naked, and we are seen, there might be too many questions,
especially from a policeman. But a topless girl, in California, that
can be explained away. Expecially in a car were there are only two
women. Take off your blouse and bra.”
“What-- what shall I do with them?” I asked.
“I’m going to get something out of my luggage,” she told me.
“Give me your blouse and bra when you’ve removed them. I’m going to put
them back here, in my suitcase, in the trunk.”
“But what if the Highway Patrol--?” I began.
“Like I said, dear, that can be explained,” Miss Wood
answered. She opened her car door and got out. Reluctantly I
unbuttoned my blouse. I pulled it off. The hot sun struck my
shoulders, the flatness of my belly.
“Can’t I at least keep my bra on?” I asked.
“No,” Miss Wood answered. I reached back behind myself as she
popped the lid on the trunk. I unsnapped my bra. It was frilly, and
white. I took it off. She came round to my side of the car and took my
clothes from me. “Good,” she said. “I like your tan. It shows off
your breasts, the way they are white against your tanned shoulders and
your tanned belly.” She handed me something. It was a riding crop.
“Lay it across your lap,” Miss Wood said. “We’ll be using it presently,
when we arrive at the house.”
“On the horse?” I asked, taking the leather stick from her. My
hands trembled as I took it.
“No,” Miss Wood answered. “My horse is too valuable to be hit
with a riding crop.”
“Then--” I said.
“Put it in your lap, dear,” Miss Wood insisted. I obeyed. She
put my blouse and bra in her suitcase in the trunk and slammed shut the
trunk’s lid. She got back in the car. She stared the engine. We drove
off.
We did not meet the Highway Patrol during the rest of our
journey. We drove under an afternoon sun, its rays hot on my skin, but
not excessively so, making the whiteness of my breasts stand out
sharply, my nipples stiff. The jellied mounds of my tits bounced
exceedingly when Miss Wood turned off the secondary road onto one paved
only with gravel. She looked over and me and smirked at the jostling of
my bare tits. She was wearing women’s business attire, complete with a
jacket, blouse, and bra. Her breasts jiggled in her bra cups but they
didn’t bounce all around like my nude ones did. I flushed.
“You blush very nicely,” she said to me.
“Thank you,” I replied. I put a palm on my bare belly. It
felt warm. Thankfully we passed between a grove of trees and fell into
shade. I fingered my navel. I couldn’t imagine what would happen to
me. One thing was for sure, though. I wouldn’t risk getting pregant.
There would be no men here, just she and I, for the entire week. Plus a
horse and a servant. And the servant, I guessed, wasn’t a man.
“Your servant--?” I asked, looking across at Miss Wood.
“You will not be my servant,” Miss Wood, misunderstanding,
replied. “You will be my slave. But I will be your mistress. A love
slave isn’t like a black African slave. It is the mistress who has the
most work, in a relationship like we will have for the week.”
“I-- I meant your actual servant,” I said. We passed again
into sunlight.
“Oh. She is a Mexican woman,” Miss Wood said. “She speaks
very little English, don’t worry. She will not divulge what she sees.”
“I see,” I said, gulping. I looked down at the riding crop
across my lap. I felt like reaching over and hitting her with it, but I
feared she might crash our car. That, at least, was the excuse I gave
myself, at the time. At her insistance, I wasn’t wearing a seatbelt.
About 15 minutes later we turned from the gravel road onto a
gravel drive. We drove through more trees. We pulled up before a
small, wooden cabin. It looked weathered and old. Chickens scattered
before us.
“You’ll find it’s spartan, but sufficient for our purposes,”
Miss Wood told me. She stopped the car. She got out. I hesistated,
sitting in her car. She walked around to my side and opened my car
door. She took my arm. She pulled on it. I stumbled out of her car,
clutching, ridiculously, at the riding crop she’d given me. Just then
the door to the cabin swung open and a Mexican woman stepped out. She
was middle-aged. She wore a maid’s cap on her head, and a white maid’s
apron.
“Margarit,” Miss Wood smiled to her. “This is Bambi. Bambi,
meet Margarit.”
The Mexican woman nodded to me. She seemed to take it in
stride that I was topless, without a blouse or a bra. If she noticed
the riding crop in my hand, she did not remark upon it. She simply
bowed, slightly, nodding her head. Then she turned and began rounding
up the chickens and throwing them grain from a pouch in the front of her
apron.
“Here, chickeee, chickeee, chickeee,” Margarit called to the
chickens. Since she was tossing them grain, they didn’t need much
encouragement to heed her calls. Miss Wood took me by my arm and
escorted me into her cabin.
It was shady indoors, under the roof of the cabin. Miss Wood
showed me around. There was a single bed. It had iron bars for its
headboard and its footboard. There was a small bathroom. It had a
sink, a bidet made of porcelian, and an old metal washtub. There was
only a tap, to draw water from. There were no facilities for a shower
or a regular bath, in a tub. There was a small stove, a sink, a few
cupboards for storing food. Out back, on an open air porch, with the
roof projecting back over it to give it shade, was what Miss Wood called
“my parlor.” It had a simple wooden table and two chairs. The chairs
were of wood but they matched neither each other nor the table. Beyond,
in a field, a large horse ran free.
“What do you think?” Miss Wood asked me.
“It is... quite natural,” I offered. My voice quavered.
“We will be getting to know each other quite well here,” Miss
Wood said. “But mostly, you will be getting to know yourself, Bambi.
For I will be dressed, almost always, as you see me now. That’s right.
In a business suit. This is no lesbian retreat. I hope you were not
looking for that?”
“No,” I said, in a quavering voice.
“In fact, I have not shown you downstairs.” My eyes widened.
Downstairs? This was little more than a hut. “Yes,” Miss Wood nodded.
“I’d have to pay a larger tax if all the facilities were visible.
Downstairs, there is a proper bedroom for myself, and a full, complete
bath. And washing facilities, for clothes. And a gourmet kitchen. You
will not see those parts of the house. But I will attend to my own
needs down there. While, at the same time, you are enjoying the spartan
life, up here.” She laughed. “It was simple, my dear, building it.
You simply dig a big hole, build what you want, and then cover it up
again. The cabin was placed on top.” She ran a hand down my bare
back. Her fingers played along my spine. “I should like to whip you,
now,” Miss Wood said. She prised the riding crop from my fingers. “I
want you to bend right over and put your elbows on the table. Take your
pants down first. This is to be a bare-bottomed whipping.” She touched
my back where my bra usually ran across it. “You have done a fine job,
tanning yourself. I can see where your bra covered you, in the tanning
booth. I trust you kept your panties on too, while you tanned?” I
nodded. “Good. Then your bottom will be as white as your breasts are.
And you did a perfect job, my dear, letting your bra leave just a trace
of a line across your back. You will train very well as a slave, I
believe, given how well you’ve carried out my instructions already.”
She kissed my cheek. “The essence of a slave, you know, is to be able
to carry out instructions to the letter. Please pull down your pants.
Let me see how well you’ve kept your bottom white, while tanning your
legs.”
I was wearing jeans and knee high fringed leather cowboy
boots. Somehow, I sensed she did not wish for me to sit down on a
chair, and remove my boots, and take my jeans and panties all the way
off. There seemed to be an urgency in her eyes. In the way she pressed
on my back. I undid my pants belt, looking up at her. As soon as I had
the belt undone, she pulled it out of my belt loops and off my pants.
She dropped it on a chair next to the table. Then Miss Wood helped me
with the buttons at the front of my jeans. When they’d been pulled
open, she took hold of my pants round my hips. She shoved them down.
It was quite unceremonious, like a parent stripping a child for her
bath. Down they went, me pushing a little to get them down, for they
were tight round my legs. She pushed most of all, shoving my jeans down
until they circled my knees.
“Very well. Bend over,” Miss Wood told me in a no-nonsense
voice. “That’s it. We’re both girls. There’s no need to feel
embarrassed at showing me what we both have,” she said, pushing on my
back with a single finger now, as I bent slowly at the middle until my
arms came to rest upon the wooden surface of the table. “You have
brought a nice belt,” she said, glancing at the chair. “We will apply
that to your seat also. Dip your back. Present your bottom, Raquella.
Shove it up at me.” She turned. “Hello, Margarit. Of course you may
watch, my dear. She will need someone to daub her eyes, when I’m
finished. And perhaps a cup of water. No, no liquor beforehand. This
is a mid-day spanking. We do not give liquor to girls when they are
being spanked in the middle of the day. Only in the evening, and then
only for the most severe tests.”
Quivering with fright, Miss Wood’s palm pressing down on the
small of my back, I was forced to offer up my bottom. I blinked. This
was utterly crazy, I thought, gazing out at the field beyond, at the
strong horse standing in the distance. It stopped. It sniffed the
breeze. I heard the chickens out front, squabbling over the grain
they’d been tossed.
“She holds the position well, do you not think so?” Miss Wood
asked Margarit. They both stood behind me, gazing at my upturned ass.
“Yes, madam,” Margarit said. “She has a very fine bottom.”
“So round and tight,” Miss Wood said.
Nervously I wiggled my ass. “Oh, please,” I moaned. “Hit me
and get it over with!” Miss Wood laughed. Margarit copied her,
laughing with her.
“My dear,” Miss Wood said. “It is the waiting for it that is
almost more important than it itself is. Gaze out at the fields. The
horse is a male. But there are no other males here. All your suffering
will be unobserved, unappreciated, by any males, except the horse. See
how he sniffs at the wind. Does he sense the presence of a young
female? Oh, look! He is coming our way. Perhaps he wishes to mount
you, hmmm?”
I shivered with considerable fright then. For there was no
railing, between us and the porch. His field where he galloped came
right up to the back of the house.
As I stood hunched over the table, watching the horse, he came
trotting up to the porch. There was an eagerness to his gait. He put
his nose in and sniffed within a foot of my bottom. I could feel air
from his nostrils hit my tail end as he whinnied.
“Margarit, please restrain him,” Miss Wood told our maid.
“Yes, madam,” the maid replied. She walked behind me and over
to the horse. He wore no bit, no bridle. Yet her touch upon his neck
seemed to calm him. She was Mexican. She understood animals. She
stroked the underside of his large, powerful jaws.
“Tommorrow we will put you over a bale of hay and put a dildoe
up your bottom,” Miss Wood told me. I did not know whether she was
teasing or not. “And by week’s end you will have learned to wear a
saddle. You will be a properly broken-in young mare, fit for pleasing
men’s worst desires. Provided, of course,” she said, running a finger
up between the cheeks of my seat, “You wish to serve such a man.”
“Madam,” Margarit said, still restraining the horse. “There is
a man, in Mexico, named Solon. He buys young American girls and uses
them to entertain.”
“Yes, I know,” Miss Wood said. “He runs a prison farm?”
“Yes, ma’am. It is for American women. Some go there
voluntarily. Others, are induced,” Margarit said.
“I have heard of it,” Miss Wood said. She pressed the crop
against the middle part of my bottom. I could feel its hardness
indenting my seat.
“Oh, no more!” I wailed.
“What? I haven’t even struck you,” Miss Wood replied.
“I know, but--” I began. My voice caught in my throat. How
awful I felt, my bosoms scraping the table, my ass uplifted, feeling the
stiff crop against my skin and knowing it must hurt me soon. Miss Wood
put the crop between my legs. She slid it up between my thighs until it
lodged in the slit of my sex. She rubbed it back and forth. “OH!” I
gasped.
“The crop is giving you pleasure?” Miss Wood asked.
“A little,” I sighed. A wave of pleasure passed up through my
tummy.
“She is excited,” Margarit said. “See how her bare legs and
her knees tremble. She likes showing her bottom this way, with her
pants rudely pulled down.”
“I know,” Miss Wood said. “Of course there must be punishment,
for being such a bad girl. Did you know she rode all the way over here
without her top on?”
“Yes, I saw it. Showing her bare bosoms to all the world,”
Margarit said.
“So of course I yanked down her pants the minute we got here,”
Miss Wood said.
“A good idea, ma’am. Whoa, horse! She is not for you. Not
today,” Margarit said to the stallion. My hips rolled. Miss Wood’s
free hand returned to the summits of my back hemispheres and scouted
between them. “Do not tighten yourself, Raquella,” Miss Wood
instructed, as my bottomcheeks tensed against her finger. When I
relaxed, she dipped her finger between them. She pressed a fingertip to
my rosehole. “Yes,” she said. “I’ll force the dildoe up you right
there. Out in the sunshine, where anyone passing by might see.
Although,” she added quickly, “nobody should, back here. It is quite
remote. That is why I’m free to spank you out on the porch. Scream to
the hills, if you like. Only Margarit and I and the horse will hear
you.”
“Please do it, if you must,” I said. I waggled my bare ass at
her.
“Ah, she is showing it off now,” Miss Wood told Margarit. The
horse neighed.
“She is lewd, madam. Is that the word?” Margarit asked.
“Yes,” Miss Wood said. She kept sawing the crop in my cunt,
making me swoon, while at the same time fingering me deeply in my bottom
crack. I rotated my bottom about as if I were a model, whose behind was
the center of a fashion show.
“She belongs on the prison farm. She is lewd,” Margarit said.
“I couldn’t agree more,” Miss Wood replied. She pulled the
crop from between my legs. She withdrew her other hand off my bottom.
I heard a whistling. It was the crop being drawn back. I tensed.
“Keep your posture, Raquella,” Miss Wood warned. Then there was another
whistling, faster still than the first. Suddenly a hard, butt-wrenching
smack, thin as a pencil but deep in its impression, connected with my
pert derriere.
“OoooWHOOOO!” I cried. The shock of it, after all that teasing
and waiting, nearly sent me flying across the table.
“She cannot even hold her posture, Madam,” Margarit said.
“Yes, she must go to the prison farm. She is disobedient and
totally untrained,” Miss Wood replied.
“She will fetch a high price there,” Margarit said.
“OOOOH! I don’t want to go to the prison farm!” I shouted.
The distant hills seemed to reverberate with my cry.
So much so that they laughed.
Jane was laughing. My eyes popped open.
“The prison farm?” Jane asked. “What dream have you been
having, dear?”
I lurched on the couch. I grabbed at it and almost fell off.
Morning was streaming through the windows of Jane’s living room.
Fortunately, the curtains were drawn, for I was completely nude.
“Oh! I dreamed I met Miss Wood in the grocery, and I went to
California, and I went to Candyland too, and I was going to be sold to a
prison farm, in Mexico!” I blathered.
Jane kissed my face.
“You must go home now, dear,” she said. “I meant to take you
last night but I fell asleep and, well, Katie wasn’t finished yet,” she
said. She glanced behind her. I saw Katie lying on the living room
floor. She looked well eaten. Tongue trails ran up her creamed thighs
repeatedly, right to her dell. Her fleecy pubic hair had been
completely licked clean of all the cream that had been squirted on it.
Yet new cream was dribbling out of her now, cream from the insides of
men. It came oozing out from between the lips of her pussy and grew in
a slow pile between her legs on the carpet. Her face, except for her
lips, was smeared with cream. Her mouth lay open, and I guessed she
might be oozing cream there too, real men’s cream, from the depths of
her throat. Her titties, sitting plumply on her chest, were covered
with cream, save for their nippled tips, which had been licked. They
stood up pinkly, like cherries topping ice cream cones. “Katie is
finished now,” Jane assured me.
Later, driving home in her car, I gazed sleepily out her side
window. I saw horses. They were standing in a field. Eating grass.
For a moment I imagined they were big cocks, feeding on the grass with
their pee holes. And then I saw a woman step out from behind one of
them. She had a riding crop in her hand. She hit one of the fine
stallions on his rump. I clutched at my own. The big horse broke into
a run. I watched it. As the horse galloped across the field I wished I
could be on top of it, riding it. Even if the woman struck my own rump
as we ran.
THE END
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