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From: Andrew Roller <roller666@earthlink.net>
Subject: Sum 4 Summer of Sin part 4 of 20 (NND)
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_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
SUMMER OF SIN
_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
Chapter Four
“Well, you have been opened fore and aft, and fed upon by some
of the glitterati of Paris,” Rebecca laughed to me the next morning.
“What shall we do for an encore?”
I hugged my pillow. I lay in my bed, defensively. We were
home again. Rebecca was up early, decked out in her broadbrimmed hat
and a bikini. She was lithe, graceful. She tossed back her brown hair
in a carefree way. She gazed down at me. She put her hands on her
hips. She was intent on catching the morning rays of the sun out by her
pool.
“I don’t want to have an encore,” I said testily. I knew she
wished for me to join her. But I was still sore from the night before.
I put my thumb in my mouth. I sucked upon it and closed my eyes.
“Very well,” Rebecca said. I heard her heels click upon the
floor. She turned, left. I drifted gratefully back into sleep.
That afternoon we went shopping downtown. A collection had
been made at the party the night before, in appreciation of our
boldness. I enjoyed spending the money.
“Does this make us--” I asked Rebecca, pausing over the word in
French, not sure how to pronounce it.
“No, darling,” Rebecca assured me. “We are adventurous, but we
are not that,” she said.
“I hoped we were not,” I said, gulping. We were in a hattery.
I put a broadbrimmed straw hat upon my head. It was similar to the one
Rebecca owned. She adjusted it for me. She tied the ribboned chin
strap under my chin.
“You look adorable,” Rebecca said.
A young man put some boxes down in a corner of the store, near
to where we were standing. We both turned and looked at him. He looked
at us. I judged him to be about 19. He smiled. I found his figure
extraordinary and couldn’t help but smile back. He had broad shoulders,
long legs. His hips were trim. There was a bulge in the front of his
tight jeans. He wore a plaid shirt but it was undone down the front,
displaying a muscled chest and a flat belly. He had hair growing up his
belly and over his chest.
“Oh, sorry,” the man said. He put his fingers to his shirt and
began buttoning it. “It’s hot out today,” he said.
The proprietess of the store circled back between the hats to
where we were standing. I blushed, seeing her, for I knew my eyes
betrayed an admiration for her stockboy. She glanced at me, my hat,
which was still her hat, for I had not bought it yet. She looked at her
boy. She was Rebecca’s age. I guessed the young man meant more to her
than just someone who labored over her boxes.
“I hope he is not bothering you?” the woman asked.
“Oh, no,” Rebecca replied. I remained silent. I lowered my
face, letting the hat’s brim cover my eyes. From under it I peered at
the boy’s crotch, surreptitiously. How could he be so big there? Was
it just the tightness of the pants? Or had he become excited, seeing me
in this hat? I felt guilty looking at his thing but I couldn’t help
myself. “We shall take the hat,” Rebecca said.
“Yes, of course,” the proprietess answered. “She looks darling
in it.”
“Thank you,” I whispered from under my hat, still keeping my
eyes lowered, looking at the man’s crotch.
“Anything else?” the proprietess asked.
“No. The hat will be fine,” Rebecca said. “It is how much?”
She began to open her purse.
“You needn’t open that,” the proprietess said. Her hand darted
out and caught at the top of Rebecca’s handbag. Gently she closed it.
Her hand remained atop it, lingering, an unspoken question in the air.
“Oh, but I must pay you,” Rebecca said, and tried to open her
purse again. The proprietesses’ fingers kept it shut.
“There are any number of ways to pay for the necessities of
life,” the proprietess said. “And money is, I think, the most boring of
all.”
“Oh!” Rebecca said, gasping a little. The proprietess forced
her purse closed. She did not try to open it again.
“I live on Bourbon Street,” the proprietess said. “Number 25.
I should be honored if she would wear the hat to tea. Three o’clock,
perhaps? Tommorrow?” She glanced at the boy. “Johnnie, do you have
classes tommorrow?”
“Only in the morning,” Johnnie said.
“Good,” the propreitess said. “You will report to my home
after your classes. Call Maria and have her tend the store.”
“What do you think?” Rebecca asked. She turned to me. I
lifted my eyes. I wondered if I was still blushing. My eyes met the
young man’s and I smiled.
“I want to see all the different things in Paris,” I said
coyly. My eyes dropped to the man’s crotch and then lifted quickly,
guiltily, and looked into the face of the proprietess. She smiled.
“I shall expect you both at three then,” the proprietess said.
“My name is Helene. And yours?” she asked, turning her face to Rebecca.
“Rebecca,” my aunt replied. “And this is Chloe.”
“Ah, a lovely name,” Helene said. “Johnnie, do not put the
boxes there. Put them up front, by the register,” Helene said, turning
to the stockboy. He nodded. He bent over and I watched his buttocks
tense in his jeans. He had a broad back and it spread over the boxes.
His muscled arms scooped them up. He turned, grinned at myself and
Rebecca, and then sauntered through the racks of hats up to the front of
the store.
“Is he your boyfriend?” Rebecca asked Helene. “He is quite
gorgeous.”
Helene nodded. “Yes, I just met him,” she said. “He is from
the Czech Republic. I invited him to claim my address as his own so he
could attend the University. At domestic rates,” she said.
“Oh,” Rebecca said. “That was kind of you.”
“Yes,” Helene said. “Your friend. She is an American?”
“Yes,” Rebecca said. “She is staying with me just for the
summer.”
“She looks lovely in her new hat,” Helene said.
“Thank you again for letting us have it,” Rebecca said.
“She was made for it,” Helene said. “Tomorrow, then?” she
asked, for the store’s bell rang at the front door, announcing the entry
of a customer.
“Yes, of course,” Rebecca said.
We continued our shopping. I enjoyed my hat. It kept the sun
off my face. I bought a ring with a diamond at another store. We ate a
late lunch and then went home.
That night we went dancing. We did not stay out late. When we
came home we both went gratefully to bed. I was glad to be sleeping by
myself. Yet as I drifted off I wondered about tomorrow’s tea. I felt a
strange excitement. I guessed I might fall asleep tomorrow evening
somewhere else, perhaps at 25 Bourbon Street.
He met us at the door. Rebecca and I were outfitted in short
dresses. My own fitted me like a corset. It hugged my middle. It was
elaborately tied in back. Bra cups covered the lower curves of my
breasts, just barely containing my nipples. The jellied mounds of my
breasts bounced in the cups, their tops bared. The white flesh of my
mounds caught Johnnie’s eyes as he opened Helene’s front door. I
blushed. He smiled. My shoulders were nude, as was my back, down to
where the dress hugged me with corset-like firmness. I was slipped as
if into a vise, bare-legged, bare-shouldered, with my dress crossing
behind the small of my back and covering my flat belly. Twin spaghetti
straps tied behind my neck kept the cups over my breasts from falling
away. A very short skirt, flaring out from the bodice of my dress, just
managed to cover my bottom. I wore no stockings. But I did wear my new
ring that I’d bought, plus a pair of high-heels. Around my ankles, the
same color as my black dress, were two leather ankle straps. On my head
was my straw broad-brimmed hat.
Rebecca was dressed like me. She wore her straw hat. The sun
glared down on us, excusing our skimpy attire. It was summer. We could
dress salaciously without making a scene.
Johnnie, for his part, was nude, save for a pair of Speedoes.
I guessed he must have been swimming or, since his hair was dry, about
to. I wondered at this, for were we not to have tea? I hoped he would
join us. Johnnie grinned. He invited us inside.
We stepped into a parlor. It had ornate decorations. Johnnie
closed the front door behind us. As soon as he had, he put his thumbs
in his swimsuit. He yanked it down off his hips, exposing his cock. He
stepped out of it. He hung it on a peg on the wall.
“I have to wear that to answer the door,” Johnnie said to us.
We blushed. We gazed at his thing. It was huge. It quavered stiffly
on the air, in time to his pulse. “I hope you don’t mind,” Johnnie
said, glancing from us down to his cock. “It’s not my idea, going
nude. Helene insists. ‘Mistress’ actually, is what I call her, in her
home. She takes care of me and I perform various... services,” Johnnie
said. He looked at us. He offered his brawny arm to Rebecca. “May I
escort you to tea?” he asked. “I am no slouch in good-mannered
gallantry, even if I am required to walk around without any clothes on.”
“Yes,” Rebecca said, putting a hand to her lips. “Yes,” she
said again. She let Johnnie take her arm. “Come, Chloe,” she whispered
to me.
Johnnie’s cock bobbed in front of him, like some obscene fleshy
log, as he led Rebecca by her arm to the back of the house. Helene was
there, sitting on an enclosed porch. Big trees in her back yard kept
prying eyes from seeing Johnnie’s display. She sipped tea from an ivory
teacup.
“Hello, girls,” Helene said. “My, you dress wonderfully. And
such nice hats! Please sit down. I hope Johnnie didn’t scare you? I
prefer him naked in this summer heat. It keeps him cooler,” she said.
I wondered at that. Her home was air conditioned, though the
porch, being screened in, let in some of the summer heat. The glass
doors leading out to the porch were drawn back, letting the air
conditioned interior of the home cool the porch as well. It was
wasteful, but elegant, I thought. The porch would have been too hot
with the glass doors closed. The day was too fine to have tea inside.
Johnnie seated Rebecca at the table, then myself. He had to be
careful not to let his cock jut against our bottoms. I put my hands
under my seat to get my dress under me, but it was too short, and I
found myself sitting in my panties directly on the chair. Its seat was
made of wroght iron, painted white.
“Johnnie, get some cushions for them to sit on. The seats are
too hard,” Helene said to our escort. “Really, I told you to do that
earlier,” she scolded.
“Yes, mistress,” Johnnie said. He went into the house and came
out a moment later with two lace cushions. He put them on a side table,
where flowers stood in a vase. Then he picked up one and bade me lift
up my bottom so he could get it under me. I complied. Blushingly I
admired his naked cock as his strong hands fitted the cushion under my
ass. I sat down too quickly, sitting on his hands. I let out a small
cry and lifted my seat again. He adjusted the cushion, removed his
hands out from under me, and told me to sit. I did. The cushion was
soft. There was lace trimming around its edges.
Johnnie placed a cushion under Rebecca’s fanny. She smiled.
She adjusted herself on her new seat and tossed back her hair. Helene
poured her tea, then me, passing the cups to us.
“Mmm, it’s good,” Rebecca said. She sipped her tea. “Orange
Pekoe.”
“Yes, it’s perfect for summer, is it not?” Helene asked.
“Johnnie, dear, why don’t you have a tie on? Go put on a tie for these
young ladies here.”
“Oh, there is no need,” Rebecca said.
Johnnie left, then returned a moment later. A black bow tie
was tied skillfully round the base of his cock. The bow part of it
faced up, toward his chest. I gasped. Rebecca, beside me, gasped. His
thing was extraordinarily long and, despite the tie at its base, it
still stuck out usefully a good ten inches or so, providing plenty of
meat for a girl who wished to pleasure herself with it.
“It is nice, decorated that way, is it not?” Helene asked us.
“And there is so much of him, one does not compromise its essential
functions, doing it.”
“No, one does not,” Rebecca agreed. She gulped at her tea.
“It is essential that I see the male penis displayed,” Helene
said. “For my business.”
“Your business?” Rebecca asked.
“Oh, I did not tell you?” Helene asked. She drew Johnnie
toward her, clasping at his cock with her fingers. Instinctively he
knew, somehow, to refill her cup with tea, and when he had, using a big
silver pitcher on the table, he picked up a pitcher of cream and added a
dollop of it to her cup. Then she took his cock and dipped the tip of
it in her cup. She stirred her tea with the big knobby head of his
dick. Mostly just the pee-holed tip of his cock touched her tea, for if
his whole head had been plunged in it would have spilled all the tea
from her cup. “Give me a bit of your pre-cum, Johnnie,” Helene said.
She squeezed lightly on his veined shaft. Johnnie tensed his
bottomcheeks. He uttered a slight groan. “Yes, that’s it,” Helene
said. She lifted the tip of his hard cock out of her tea and watched as
a big dollop of pre-seminal fluid oozed out of Johnnie’s penis. It
plopped into her cup. “Mmmm,” Helene said. She brought the warm tea to
her lips and sipped it. “He has such fine control,” she said. She let
go of his cock. “Give our guests some, too,” she told Johnnie.
“Oh, I--” Rebecca said. But Johnnie took her cup and, not
allowing her to let go of it, drew it to his crotch. He dipped his
cockhead into it. He winced slightly at the heat of the tea, then
stirred her tea with his knob.
Pre-cum, madam?” Johnnie asked.
“Yes, please, if it doesn’t take too much out of you,” Rebecca
said. She regarded him with awestruck eyes.
Helene stood. She walked round behind Rebecca and put her
fingers through Rebecca’s hair. She touched her neck. She loosened the
ties there, the ties that held up the front of Rebecca’s dress.
“Oh!” Rebecca gasped.
“He must be inspired a little,” Helene said. I watched in
amazement as Rebecca’s bra cups were loosened. They were part of her
dress, yet separate, in a sense, for loosening the cups did nothing to
lighten the tightness of the corset-like bodice of the dress around
Rebecca’s middle. The cups fell away. Rebecca’s breasts spilled out.
Their tips were cherry red, and hard, in contrast to the jellied mounds
themselves, which were white and soft. Johnnie gaped at Rebecca’s
breasts. They were quite lovely, and the sight of them caused his dick
to deposit a droplet of pre-cum into Rebecca’s cup.
“You also,” Helene said, coming round the table to me.
“Oh, I do not want--!” I blurted, my tea cup hovering at my
lips. I held it delicately. I wished to be ladylike.
“Do not protest. It is summer,” Rebecca smiled at me. She
watched approvingly as Helene undid the strings at my neck, causing my
bosoms to pop from my dress. They jiggled freely. I felt the warm air
upon them, cooled by the outflow of air from the house, and their tips
stood up. Johnnie was brought round to me and I was forced by the
intervention of Helene’s hand to offer my cup to him. We held it
together as he drooled a droplet of precum into my tea.
“It will add to its flavor,” Helene assured me.
“And provide a taste of what is yet to cum?” I asked, lifting
my eyes to her. I asked innocently, though it caused Rebecca and Helene
to laugh.
“You are wearing panties at the moment, my dear,” Helene said.
“Perhaps you should take them off if you wish to enjoy Johnnie more
fully.”
“Oh, no. I do not wish to,” I said, quickly sipping my tea.
“It is hot,” Rebecca said. She put down her tea. She lifted
her hips. She slipped her hands within the abbreviated folds of her
dress and pulled down her panties.
“Yes, it is,” Helene agreed. Standing behind me, she did the
same, pulling down her own panties and stepping out of them. They were
white. Rebecca’s were black. “Put them on the table so he can see
them,” Helene said. “It will inspire him more.”
The two women placed their panties on the table as if offering
silky gifts to Johnnie, though he was only our servant, an immigrant
from the Czech Republic. He stared at them. I saw a quiver of a smile
pass across his lips. Then it faded. A slightly haunted look came to
his eyes. I wondered at it. Wasn’t he delighted to have three females
at his disposal?
Helene returned to her seat. Rebecca settled back into hers.
Helene tossed back her head. She had long hair, fetchingly curled so
that it formed a mane of loose curls that tumbled round her face and
down over her shoulders. There was a blue ribbon tied into the back of
her hair, in a bow. She wore no hat, as if hats were reserved for
younger girls, like myself, to make me look sweet and childish. She had
on a blue silk shirt with a high collar. It had long sleeves. Through
it I could just make out the areoles of her breasts. They perked their
nipples into the fabric of the shirt now as she sat sipping her tea once
more, regarding our naked bosoms and Johnnie’s bare cock. She wore a
miniskirt round her waist. Her legs were encased in white silk
stockings that gripped her thighs, not needing garters to keep them
aloft. Between the tops of her stockings and the hem of her skirt, her
legs were bare. She opened them, not wearing panties anymore, her muff
free to rub itself on the lace-trimmed cushion upon which she was
sitting. Rebecca, also without panties now, wiggled a little on the
deep cushion on which she sat.
“It is pleasant, is it not, going without panties?” Helene
asked Rebecca. My aunt smiled.
“It is very pleasant, yes,” Rebecca said. “And cooler too.”
I looked again at Johnnie’s eyes. He glanced at Helene’s
tummy. It was bare, flat. Her shirt was purposely too short to cover
it, though her sleeves were too long for her arms, the cuffs of them
covering her hands out to her knuckles. Helene smiled.
“I work him hard,” Helene said to Rebecca. The two women
shifted their legs wider apart, letting the cool air from the house find
their moistening slits between their legs. I longed, suddenly, to be
without my own panties. I wanted to expose my quim. How delightful to
sit bare bottomed upon the expensive lace seat cushion! To let it
moisten with my pussy’s juices.
I reached within my dress. I waited for Johnnie’s roving eyes
to move away from me. He was admiring us all, as any male would, yet I
sensed still that haunted look in his eyes. He looked from Helene’s
tummy to my tits, then to the tits of my aunt. I lifted my bottom and
slid my panties down my thighs.
“Oh, she is doing it!” Helene said. All eyes darted to me. My
privacy disappeared. I blushed, my panties ringing my knees. I
contemplated, briefly, pulling my panties back up. I did not have to
undress. Then the sinfulness of the moment, the feel of the pretty
cushion pressed to my naked ass, got the better of me. I succumbed.
With a glance at Johnnie’s big cock, I drew my panties down over my
knees and let them drop to my ankles.
“Take her panties, please, Johnnie, and put them on the table,
where we can see them,” Helene said. The young man strode over to me.
Despite the haunted look in his eyes, his cock bounced jauntily. He
bent down. I gave a small cry as he grabbed the panties ringing my
ankles. He forcibly picked up my feet. He disentangled the panties
from my spiked heels. He walked over to Helene, holding them in his
hand. He gave them to her. She held them up and admired them. They
were small, pink. They had pretty red ribbons along their sides.
“Yes,” Helene said. She looked at me, then at Rebecca. She
smiled. There was a vengefulness in her eyes. She tugged at the
panties, hard.
“Oh, do not rip them!” I cried. I heard a tearing sound. They
were expensive panties, made without the gosset. There was no extra
layer of lining where my pussy lips pressed against the fabric. I
watched as the crotch of my panties ripped open. Then, still pulling,
biting her lip slightly, Helene ripped my undies even more. I felt
tears spring to my eyes.
Helene dropped my ruined panties on the table. Her nipples
were quite stiff now, pushing into the fabric of her shirt like twin
bits of coral. I feared the stiffness of the tips might put holes in
her shirt. My own nipples, I realized, blushing as I felt tears on my
face, were just as hard. Did I like being denuded, my panties publicly
torn apart? I looked at Johnnie. Perhaps I hoped he would somehow
rescue me from this indignity. Instead I saw a flicker of a smile cross
his lips again. Then he licked them. Pre-cum drooled from the tip of
his cock and fell on the floor of the screened-in porch. Rebecca,
surprised by Helene’s violence toward my panties, now let herself relax
once more and smiled at me.
“You will not need them, dear,” Rebecca said.
“But when we go home?” I asked. Rebecca looked into her teacup
and said nothing. After a moment, she sipped her tea. “It is
delicious,” she said to Helene.
Our hostess reached across the table to where Rebecca’s panties
lay. She plucked them from the table with her fingers. They had long
nails. Rebecca gulped. Her own panties were without a gosset and
Helene stressed them now, pulling at them, until the crotch of them
ripped wide apart. Then Helene dropped them on the table and picked up
her own panties. Despite the expensiveness of the fabric, she pulled at
them until they tore open at the crotch. Then she pulled on them some
more, until one of the frilled sides gave way completely, leaving her
panties a stringy, useless wreck. She dropped them back on the table.
“There,” Helene said. “Now we are all bereft, and can enjoy
the freedom of our pussies. Is it not nice, to spread one’s legs and
let the air intrude between them?” She looked at Rebecca. She put her
hand between her legs and diddled her cunny with a pointed finger.
Rebecca watched, wide-eyed, as Helene masturbated. So did I. The table
hid the indecency of the act but there was no doubt at all where Helene
had put her hand, for almost at once she gave a convulsive shudder.
Then she sighed. “Ooooh,” she said. “That feels so good. It is summer
and a girl should be able to sit outdoors, bare-bottomed, and give
herself a bit of pleasure if she wishes, don’t you think?” Helene asked.
“Yes,” Rebecca agreed. She was, I think, trying to be polite,
agreeing with our hostess, but Helene took her at her word.
“Then do it yourself, my dear,” Helene said. “There’s no
reason to be shy. No one can see. And we needn’t feel like lesbians,
for we have a man with us, to admire our suffering.”
Rebecca glanced at Johnnie. I watched as Rebecca put down her
teacup on the table. Then her hand left the table. It slipped, I knew
without seeing, down between her legs. Rebecca jerked, her breath
catching, as her finger touched her aroused slit.
“Oh, yes!” Rebecca said.
“It is pleasant, yet it makes you wish for even more, does it
not?” Helene asked Rebecca.
“Yes,” Rebecca agreed.
“That is why I call it suffering,” Helene said. “It is sweet
to suffer this way, playing in one’s slit, especially with a man so
near.”
“Yes,” Rebecca sighed. I gazed at them both, wide eyed. I
held my teacup aloft, too surprised to drink from it, or to put it back
down on the table. Helene looked at me.
“You too,” she said.
“Oh, no!” I answered. For I knew the moment I started, I would
be unable to stop. I would shiver with ever-increasing need until I
begged to be taken.
“Yes,” Helene said. Her eyes looked at me with a hardness in
them. I shuddered. I felt myself wanting, between my legs. I dropped
my hand to the cushion, between my thighs, and flicked a finger toward
my nest. “Touch yourself,” Helene ordered.
“Oh, please don’t make me!” I cried. Yet Helene sat across the
table from me, unable to reach over to where I was sitting. Her eyes
alone commanded. “Please don’t make me,” I said again.
“Chloe, be a good girl,” Rebecca told me.
“By being bad?” I asked.
Rebecca smiled. “Yes, by being bad, dear,” she said. Then she
emitted an involunatry sigh as her own doings caused her to suffer the
pangs of desire.
I looked at Johnnie. First at his penis, then up at his eyes.
Now I knew why they looked haunted. He was never free from Helene’s
sexual plottings. She worked his cock like this every day, teasing him,
making him use his tool again and again to serve her pleasure. And it
was perverse, the way she used him, making him be naked, using his dick
to stir her tea. I had no doubt there were many other tasks she had him
perform, every day. And always, if it could possibly be done that way,
she made him perform his jobs with his penis. This in addition to the
normal round of fucking I knew she must demand from him every night. He
was a walking dong, in her house. Always he had to keep himself erect
and vulnerable. The rest of his body, though it was gorgeous, mattered
little in comparison to his cock. Helene smiled.
“Johnnie, have you watered the plants?” she asked.
“No, mistress,” Johnnie answered. “Not yet.”
“Please do so,” Helene said.
“Yes, mistress,” Johnnie replied. There were plants on the
porch and Johnnie turned and walked to the nearest one. It was a rose
bush. He put his hands on his hips. He thrust his cock carelessly into
the mass of thorned branches that made up the bush. I watched, my
breath catching, fearing he might pierce himself on a thorn. But he did
not, thankfully, and a moment later, as I watched his buttcheeks
tighten, I heard a pissing sound.
Johnnie peed on the bush. We all watched. Helene licked her
lips. Involuntarily my finger found my dell and massaged it. I heard
myself gasp.
“That’s enough, Johnnie,” Helene called out. I heard the flow
of urine stop, abruptly. Johnnie’s asscheeks squeezed hard. He flexed
his torso. I guessed he was flinging spare drops of urine into the
plant, so they would not fall on the floor and be wasted. Then he
turned. His big penis, still tied with the bow, presented itself to us
again. “Do the others,” Helene told Johnnie.
“Yes, mistress,” Johnnie agreed. He walked over to a poinsetta
and began peeing anew, into the pointy leaves. After a bit he stopped
the flow of his urine again, squeezing his buttcheeks tightly. Then he
walked over to a spray of narcissus flowers, growing in a clay pot. He
aimed his cock at them and let his peed on them. Finally he turned and
walked over to a cluster of tulip blossoms. He filled the flowered cups
with his pee, overspilling them, making them bend under their newfound
load and droop toward the earth. “I have no more... in my bladder,”
Johnnie said to Helene, turning toward us again. I gazed at his balls,
bulging with virile firmness between his legs. Would she make him jerk
himself off on the remaining plants? I shivered. I felt my finger
intruding in my dell but had not the will to stop it. I dithered it
over my clitty and let out a moan.
“Come here, Johnnie,” Helene commanded our servant. He walked
over to her, his cock a big sausage of flesh that bobbed freely with his
every step. Droplets of urine flew off the tip, the last errant
remnants of his watering. Helene clutched at the head of his cock and
inspected it. She put her teacup to it and gently submerged the tip in
the hot tea. Johnnie tensed at the touch of the warm fluid to his
cock. Helene bathed the end of his cockhead in her cup of tea to
cleanse it of pee. When she lifted the end of Johnnie’s cock out of her
cup she waited until all the tea had dripped off it. Then she put the
big knobby head to her lips and sucked briefly upon it. Johnnie
groaned. “I shall expect you to service our guests as eagerly and
thoroughly as you serve me, Johnnie,” Helene said to the man, not
looking up in his face, however, but keeping his eyes on his cock,
addressing his pee hole.
“Yes, mistress,” Johnnie said.
“You must make every effort to satisfy them,” Helene told the
man, still looking at his cock as she spoke.
“Yes, mistress,” Johnnie said. The haunted look returned to
his eyes, though he smiled, slightly.
Helene looked at me. I gazed at her, my finger between my legs
under the table, diddling my slit. I gave a sigh as my finger, paying
attention to my nubbed clit, made it hunger for even greater attention.
“Stand up,” Helene said. I drew my shoulders together. I crouched a
little, recalcitrant, for I did not want to stop playing with myself,
and did not want to be seen doing it, either. “Stand up,” Helene told
me again.
With a great sigh I leaped to my feet. I plucked my hand from
my dell, only to put it back again, so great had my need suddenly
become. With my pussy above the level of the table, I freely fingered
myself, uncaring that they all could see what I was doing to myself. At
the same time I told myself that I was hiding my cunt from their view,
for my hand was over it, though one of my fingers was inquiring up
within it.
“Turn around,” Helene told me. I gave a sigh of relief. Of
course! If I turned around they would see only my too-short miniskirt,
just covering my bottom, and not see the front anymore, where my hand,
intruding in my dell, caused my skirt to rise and display my furred
mount. I turned on my spiked heels. As I offered them a view of my
bottom I frigged myself more freely. I didn’t have to worry about
hiding my nakedness now. I sighed as my questing finger delved deep in
my lips. Helene’s next words shocked me.
“Lift her skirt in back,” she told Johnnie. “I want to see her
ass.”
The man strode over to me. I glanced over my shoulder at him,
still too hungry for something up my twat to spare it the touch of my
finger. As I diddled myself, he gallantly lifted the back of my skirt,
baring my bottom. Helene, sitting across the table, nodded.
“It is a sweet tush,” she said approvingly. “It has still the
pertness of a child’s bottom, the cheeks sticking out, while yet having
the bell-shaped fullness of a woman.” Helene looked at Rebecca. “It is
especially lovely that, even with the filling out of her hips, her ass
is still small. I have a taste for spanking small bottoms. May I do
hers? I promise I would soothe it afterward.”
“She would look quite salacious wiggling it all about under the
lash,” Rebecca agreed. Then she bit her lip and gasped as her finger,
playing in her slit, brought her a new tremor of pleasure.
“Yes, it would be delightful,” Helene said. She too gasped,
thinking of paddling me as she played in her dell. As for myself,
despite the wickedness of the proposal, I couldn’t stop frigging myself!
“What... implements would you use?” Rebecca gasped to Helene.
“A good sturdy paddle,” Helene answered. “She would have to be
tied down, of course. I wouldn’t want her running around the house.
She might break something.”
“Of course,” Rebecca said.
“You both arrived wearing ankle straps,” Helene said. “They’re
quite sexy looking. Did you intend just to tease, or...?”
“Perhaps not just to tease,” Rebecca replied with a fevered
sigh.
“Good. I had hoped not,” Helene said. “If the moment is
right, perhaps you both will get to use them for their intended
purpose,” Helene said to Rebecca. “Not just for decoration, but for
their utility in rendering one immobile.”
“Yes,” Rebecca gasped. She was quite excited by the playing of
her finger in her cunt by now, as was I. We no longer had the good
sense to say no to such silly ideas. I felt the air upon my bare bottom
and shivered.
“Tear off her dress,” Helene told Johnnie.
“No!” I cried. But before I could think how to save myself,
Johnnie, who was very strong, ripped the skirt of my dress off the
corset-like bodice. A moment later I wore only the middle part of my
dress, the cups of it undone from my breasts, the back torn away to
permanently reveal my bottom.
“Ah, she is fetching, is she not?” Helene asked aloud. “Look
how she tenses the cheeks. She is so young. Has her bottom tasted a
whip or paddle before? A hand, even?” Helene asked, turning to my aunt.
Rebecca gave a little cough. “A little,” she admitted, after a
moment’s pause.
“Good, then she knows the pleasure it can bring, the sweet
perversity of taking pleasure from pain,” Helene said.
“Oooh! No I dooon’t!” I cried, still diddling my slit like a
mad girl, my knees trembling and my bare hips shaking, offering my
wobbling ass to their view even as I tried to resist them.
“Johnnie, tie her hands. I do not wish for her to come until
after her lessons, as a reward,” Helene told the young man behind me.
At once he pulled my hand from my dell, reaching around me. His cock
bumped my fanny. His pee hole felt wet against my bare skin. It left a
mark of precum upon my flesh. I tried to keep my remaining hand from
his reach, fluttering it out away from my body, stretching my arm as far
away from myself and him as I could, but he simply grabbed my upper arm
and wrenched it back. He put my arms together behind my back. He
turned me to face my aunt and our hostess. I gasped. Tears welled up
in my eyes. My tummy sank under my ribs and my bosoms, large and heavy
for my age, wobbled freely on my chest. My nipples, traitors both,
sprouted hard and ready on my chest; ready for whatever plans Helene had
for them. I tightened my bottom against the wobbling touchings of
Johnnie’s stiff cock.
Helene tossed my panties across the table. Johnnie caught them
in his hand.
“Oh, no!” I gasped, but Johnnie paid me no mind. He wrapped my
panties around my wrists. My arms were tied behind me. “Rebecca!” I
said. Wildly I looked at my aunt. She sipped her tea, a picture of
calmness, though her hand holding her teacup was trembling just a
little. She said nothing; merely looked at me and offered a weak
smile. Then she sighed, abruptly, for her other hand was still between
her legs, fingering her slit.
“Take her downstairs,” Helene said to Johnnie, dismissing us
both with a wave of her hand. “Rebecca and I shall join you both when
we’ve finished our tea.”
“Oh, nooo!” I cried. I wriggled hard against the firm grip of
Johnnie’s hands. His cock, jutting against my bottom, seemed to enjoy
the jiggling of my bare ass cheeks against it.
Helene put a finger to her lips. “Shhhh, child,” she said to
me. “The neighbors will hear.”
I gasped. My hat fell off. I drew in my breath to let out a
mighty scream, to beg for help, when I noticed Johnnie bending down to
the floor to pick up my hat. My scream caught in my throat, unspoken.
Carefully Johnnie picked up my pretty new hat and replaced it on my
head. I looked into Helene’s eyes. She sipped her tea and smiled.
Johnnie turned me around. I struggled a little, as he pushed
me forward. But I did not scream. A moment later he and I were both in
the house. I gaped at the enclosing walls. They were prettily
decorated. Paintings, silverware in a hutch, an old victrola that
played wax records met my eyes, and surrounding it all were the silent
walls with their discreet, modest 1950’s wallpaper. I was walked across
the room, my bare breasts bouncing, Johnnie’s cock bobbling its head at
the end of its long stem against the crevice of my ass. My hair hung in
my eyes and I tried to shake it away, by moving my head, without losing
my hat. I was partly successful. Johnnie walked me to a door and
opened it. We slipped within the wall. I found steps. They led
downward into darkness. Johnnie flipped a lightswitch and the darkness
was partly illuminated, down below, down beyond the end of the bottom
steps.
We went down the dark stairway together. Down to the pool of
light below. Johnnie pushed me ahead of him, like a hunter driving a
small captured fawn home to his cave. We reached the bottom of the
stairs. I gazed around. Immediately I gasped and bit my lip. I was in
a dungeon!
“Do not be alarmed,” Johnnie said to me, from behind, still
holding my panty-bound wrists. “Mistress brings me down here on a
regular basis. I’m still in one piece.”
“Oh, but--!” I gasped.
Johnnie removed my broad-brimmed straw hat. I felt much more
naked without it. It no longer dipped its brim low over my eyes, making
me coy. I watched as he strolled over to a peg driven into the wall and
hung up my hat. He hung it high up, so I could not reach it. Its pink
ribbon dangled down. I gazed at it helplessly. He turned and walked
back to me. I tried to run but a quick thrust of his arm caught me by
my wrists and restrained me. I looked from the stairs, to which I’d
tried to flee, back to him, and I wilted. He was so gorgeous! His
penis stuck out from his narrow, trim hips like a sausage carved from
the biggest and heftiest of pigs. Under his swollen cock his balls hung
engorged, filled with his seed. His chest looked as if it had been
carved from ivory, then sprinkled lightly with hair and left out in the
sun to bronze. His arms rippled with bulging muscles. His stomach was
flat. I felt a yearning to kiss his hard belly. I wished to cling with
my small hands to his massive prick. Surely he could rescue me and take
me away from here!
“I would never betray my mistress,” Johnnie said to me. His
voice was firm. His eyes gazed at my body with a resolve that made me
shiver.
“But--” I pleaded.
“Do not quarrel,” Johnnie said. “Come, I will make things as
comfortable for you as I can.” He drew me toward a bench. It was made
of hard, polished wood. There were two pillows on a shelf next to it.
Johnnie pulled down the pillows and, letting go of me, unfolded two
crisp white pillow cases stacked amongst some towels and covered the
pillows with them. Then he set both pillows down on the bench. He put
one on top of the other, and arranged them both so that they were in the
center of the bench. There were cords affixed to the four legs of the
bench. They waited in quiet piles to be affixed to limbs. I was too
scared to move. I watched, wide-eyed, my breasts thrust obscenely up
and out in front of me, due to my arms being tied behind my back. I
curled my toes in my high-heels. I felt the sexy ankle straps on my
legs and wished I had not chosen to be so flirtateous by wearing them.
Johnnie, nude himself except for the black bow tie bound around
the shaft of his cock, turned and faced me. We were like Adam and Eve,
except he was obscenely adorned and I was teasingly bound and corseted
and accoutred with straps. His eyes roved over my jellied breasts,
savored their quivering tips, then fell and regarded my slim hips within
my corset and my flat belly. They slipped lower, gazing into my muff.
My skirt hung fetchingly over it, but with my arms pulled back the hem
of my skirt was raised a little in front, giving a glimpse of the
lowermost part of my bush. Every little movement of my body caused the
front of my skirt to twitch. The curled hairs of my pubis were shown
off like some secret meadow, caught in snatches between the rising and
falling of my dress. Finally Johnnie let his eyes inspect in the inner
curves of my thighs. They were bare and white and unhidden by
anything. He could gaze upon their softness all he wished. Just above,
a warm haven offered relief for his prick. His penis pulsed as he
looked at me. I knew he was as hungry as I was fearful. A tremor shook
him. I could see that he longed to stuff his long thing up inside me.
“Oh, take me if you wish, just don’t torture me!” I begged. I
felt my knees wobble and would have dropped down onto them, but he
reached out and caught me by one of my bound arms.
“No,” he said. “I will fuck you if and when my mistress
permits it.” He drew me close to him. His thick cock bumped against my
corsetted waist. It left a stain upon the fabric. I looked up at him
imploringly. I felt my bottom wriggle behind me, worried of what was in
store for it.
“Oh, why?” I asked.
He stroked my long hair, ignoring my question. He murmured
something about my long blonde mane smelling beautiful. Then he spoke
more audibly, and his words made me shiver with uncontrollable fear.
“I will be with you the entire time,” Johnnie told me. “I will
be here to comfort you and to give you whatever is needed. A sip of
water, a quick bathing of the face, smelling salts...” Johnnie reached
down and tore away the front of my dress. I yelped. He tossed the
fabric he’d ripped off me onto the floor. I was completely bare now,
below the waist. Nothing hid me behind or in front. Johnnie reached up
and tore the halter part of my bodice off, the part that had once
covered my breasts, before he’d untied it upstairs. Then he cupped my
nearest breast. He squeezed it. He worked his fingers up over the
fleshy cone until they were squeezing just my nipple. “You will be
having your erotic parts trained here,” he said. “Your hands, your
feet.. think nothing of them. They will be bound. Here all attention
will be on what you normally keep covered. Your nipples, your furry
little pussy, and your anus. Plus your mouth, for as a girl you must
learn to use that part of yourself as erotically as your cunt. Wet your
lips,” Johnnie told me. I looked up at him and ran my tongue over
them. “Yes, you have a perfect lovely mouth and you will learn to suck
with it, if you do not know how to do it already,” Johnnie said. “Now I
want you to lie down on this bench and I will prepare you for
mistress.” He undid my hands. My arms flew to my front and I rubbed my
fingers over my wrists. I looked up at his face. He patted my bare
bottom with his hand. “Do not be difficult,” Johnnie said. “Like I
said, I’ll be right here with you every step of the way.”
I was overwhelmed by his masculinity. It stole all my sense
from me. I walked to the bench. I even wiggled my bottom, salaciously,
still hoping he might spear me upon his cock and, loosing his seed in
me, decide only he and I needed to be together in the world, without his
pesky mistress. I felt his eyes on my bottom but he did not take me up
on my invitation.
I gazed at the bench. I tossed back my hair. I took a deep
breath. Then, biting my lip, I passed one of my legs over the bench,
straddling it. I stood wide-legged over the bench, just shy of the
mounded pillows. Then I stepped forward. I pressed my crotch into the
pillows and leaned forward. I lay down. I waggled my bottom, adjusting
myself over the piled up pillows. I turned my head and rested my cheek
on the hard wood of the bench. I gripped the sides of the bench with my
hands. I lay on the bench with my legs wide apart, my hips upraised, my
feet just touching the floor.
“Very good,” Johnnie said. “Would you like something under
your cheek?” he asked.
“Yes,” I murmured. The wood was hard against my face. “And
something over my tush too.”
Johnnie laughed. “You know I cannot do that,” he said. “Your
tush must be trained.”
I squeezed my eyes shut. Oh, I felt so exposed! Yet I lay
upon the bench, too scared and too overwhelmed by Johnnie’s large
masculine body to move. Secretly, I felt proud for my willingness to
face the challenges he was presenting to me. I promised myself that I
was really submitting to him, not to his mistress. It was Johnnie who
was my master, not some woman.
Johnnie lifted my face slightly. He wedged a small cushion
under my cheek. It felt soft. It had lace-trimmed edges. I was
grateful for it.
“Thank you,” I murmured.
“Now I must tie your arms,” Johnnie said.
“Oh, please don’t,” I begged. But I did not move my hands, and
he lifted them one by one from the bench and wrapped wrist straps around
them. Then each of my hands was pulled down to the floor and tied off
with a cord. When Johnnie had fastened my arms, he moved down to the
other end of the bench and tied my feet to the rear legs of the bench.
It was a long bench, big enough to accomodate someone his size, and so
my feet were tied by running the cords up along the floor, under the
bench, until they reached me.
“There,” Johnnie said. “You’re all tied. Thanks for not
struggling. It would only make my job more of a nuisance and I would be
expected to punish you for it, and you will be punished enough by
mistress without me adding to your ordeal.”
“Oh, I don’t want to be hurt!” I begged. I pulled at my
bonds. He had done his job well. They held me fast to the bench, and
offered up my wriggling bottom to his lusty eyes. I twisted my head.
My mane of long blonde hair swished over my back.
“Perhaps ‘punished’ is not the right word,” Johnnie said. “It
is more like a work out. You will be stretched, opened. Filled. It is
the duty of a female to learn to receive, and you will learn your
lessons well down here. And in addition to that you must be smacked.
Think of it as a stimulation. A good hard whacking can be good for
you. It is not meant to harm you but to enliven you, to make you more
receptive. I myself have had my ass whacked numerous times by mistress,
for sins both real and invented. At first it is alarming to be struck
on the bare ass, but you get used to it. You learn to take it in the
spirit it is given, with loving, if somewhat painfully applied,
affection. Mistress does not punish those who aren’t young and
beautiful, ‘made for the lash,’ as she likes to put it. Imagine my dick
bouncing around as I stand with my wrists tied above my head, her paddle
swatting my bottom. Imagine my balls jangling between my legs and you
begin to see the erotic potential in such an act. Why, just last week,
she invited seven ladyfriends over for tea. After I served them we came
downstairs. She tied me standing upright in front of them, in the
middle of the room, with my penis bared to them, and she paddled me. It
hurt, but imagine how I felt, making an involuntary display of my cock
to their eyes. Especially since only three were women. Four were
girls, ranging in age from six to twelve. It was their first exposure
to a man’s cock. Imagine my own alarm at having such a vulgar display
made of my groin, and in front of such tender, innocent eyes. Mistress
knew that despite my shame I enjoyed it, and she paddled me all the
harder for it.
“And the girls?” I asked in an awe-struck, quavering voice.
“They squealed and hid their eyes,” Johnnie said. “Except for
the 12-year-old. She squealed and stared. Then they all begged to see
me ‘shoot out his white stuff,’ as they said. After my paddling
mistress had them attack me with their tongues. I was mortified and
tried to hold back my seed as long as I could. Finally I could not, and
my cum spurted into their soft lovely hair and all over their faces.
Their mothers let them run upstairs then, squealing delightedly. They
all had to take baths before they went home, so their fathers wouldn’t
smell my seed in their curls. I fucked all their mothers downstairs,
and mistress. Four times I had to cum, once in each of their nests. It
was an exhausting night,” Johnnie told me.
“But in the morning I’ll bet you were hard and ready to go
again,” I said, gazing up at his cock.
“Uh, yes, that’s true,” Johnnie said. “I can raise a sheet in
the morning, that’s for sure. Mistress calls it ‘putting up the tent.’”
Johnnie took a flask of oil down from the shelf. It looked as
if it had been sitting in something. He uncorked it.
“This may hurt a little. Though not as much as if I’m ordered
to take you, or mistress does, wearing a dildo,” Johnnie told me.
“No, please--” I begged. Johnnie paid no attention. He palmed
my bottom and, despite a sudden clenching of my cheeks, he easily pried
apart the twin halves of my ass. I felt like a car rolled into an auto
body shop, about to be worked on by a mechanic. Johnnie tilted the
bottle slightly and a drooling of warm oil dripped from the bottle’s
neck down into the crack of my ass. It wetted my anus. Johnnie
congratulated himself on his aim. He set the bottle down on the floor
and, still holding my ass open, he dipped his finger into my forcibly
spread cheeks. He jabbed at my bottomhole. I gasped.
“Do not tighten yourself, if you can help it,” Johnnie told
me. “I have to oil you to a depth of several inches, to make the
passage easier. God, you’re tight! Are you a virgin back here?”
“Yes,” I lied. Well, I was almost one, wasn’t I?
“I hate doing virgins,” Johnnie grumbled. He provoked another
sharp gasp from me as his finger delved deeper. “Don’t worry, we’ll get
you properly opened up back here. Mistress believes a girl should be
able to take a man’s cock in her bottomhole as easily as in her cunt.”
“Ohhhhh!” I sighed, squeezing my cheeks against his intrusion.
He poked his finger farther up my back hole. I felt a thin film of oil
within me, mingling with the moisture I was providing there in my
excitement. My bottomcheeks huddled against his probings and he swore
and prised me farther apart with his palm. With his other hand, he dug
deepr with his finger. Strangely, I felt my nest wetten against the
pillows. My tummy tightened with a kind of odd pleasure and my nipples
on my breasts budded hard and ripe against the wood of the bench.
“There,” Johnnie said. He withdrew his finger. I heard a
small ‘pop’ as it cleared the clenching opening of my back hole.
“Oh, do not take it out!” I cried, making him laugh.
“What?” he asked.
Tears sprang to my eyes. “Oh, I do not know what I’m
saying...” I gasped. But I did, for the absence of his finger in me
left me feeling bereft.
“Well, what have we here?” I heard a female voice ask. It was
mistress! I froze upon the bench, ceasing even the absent wigglings of
my bare tush. I glanced back over my shoulder. Rebecca was with her.
But they were holding hands, and Rebecca gazed at me with a sheepish,
willing look in her eyes. I saw there were tears on her face. When she
turned, slightly, I saw her skirt had been cut away in back, or ripped.
Her bottom was red. Johnnie noticed it too.
“She did not finish her tea,” Mistress smiled. “I had to make
Rebecca bend over the tea table and take a paddling from my hand. I cut
off her skirt so she could diddle herself while I did it, and not have
to hold up the back of her dress for me. She was a good girl.” Helene
turned to Rebecca and pecked her cheek with a kiss. “She obeyed me and
stopped playing with herself when she felt the urge to cum,” Rebecca
said. “And, taking her spanking, she only cried out once. Down here
things will be easier. We will not have to worry about the neighbors
hearing.”
“Yes, mistress,” Johnnie said.
“Is that little tart all tied down?” Helene asked Johnnie,
nodding toward me. I noticed both she and Rebecca were wiggling their
hips, and guessed they were hungry from their masturbating. I was
hungry too, despite my shame in admitting it to myself. I wanted a
finger on my button and I wanted to spend on the pillows. I wanted to
do something else, too.
“Oh, I have to pee!” I cried. “Please untie me so I can go.”
“Certainly not,” Helene said to me. “You will be whipped and
you will hold your water until I’m finished, like a good girl. If you
pee on the pillows it will be worse for you, I can assure you.” She
turned to Rebecca. “Turn around, dear. I want you completely out of
your dress.” Rebecca turned her back to Helene. She stood meekly as
the red-haired woman undid it. It took awhile. I watched, wriggling my
bottom and begging to be let up to pee.
“Shhhh,” Johnnie told me. “You’ll pee when mistress
permits.”
unwrap cellophane covered dildo helene in dildo business too
30
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