Message-ID: <7775eli$9804131038@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
From: Andrew Roller <roller666@earthlink.net>
Subject: apr 10 Wed to the Whip part 2 of 2 (NND)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d
Reply-To: roller666@earthlink.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: <352D5562.6148@earthlink.net>
---------------------------------------------------------------
PROBLEMS? Please try viewing this with Netscape Navigator.
---------------------------------------------------------------
_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
WED TO THE WHIP
_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
Chapter Two
She arrived at the party clad in a short dress that hung by
spaghetti straps from her shoulders. It was black, with white-patterned
flowers on it. It had a scoop neckline, showing the curves of her
breasts, hiding the nipples. Due to the slimness of the dress’
spaghetti straps it was not possible to wear a bra with the dress.
Kelly’s young, uptilted breasts bounced with her every step.
The back of Kelly’s dress showed her bare back. Up the length
of her back, stretched tightly across her bare skin, (where, again, it
would have been impossible to wear a bra), was a laced network of
strings. They served to hold together the two halves of her dress.
Without them, the sides of her dress would simply fall away from each
other and slip to the floor.
Sheathed in this tight dress, accoutered in pearls, Kelly
offered her hand to Jill and let the woman lead her into the room. Jill
gripped her hand tightly. Kelly was visibly nervous and her
apprehension imparted an extra wiggle to gait as she walked. Her tight
waistline gave way to a trim, but attractively flaring pair of hips that
wiggled with showy acknowledgement of their ultimate fate. Couples in
the room smiled, nodded to her, received her with warm stares. The men
in particular noted the quick, uncertain wiggle of her behind. It
invited attention.
As Kelly proceeded into the room with butterflies in her
stomach, John, her husband, followed her with feigned composure. He too
was nervous about what would be happening to his wife. Yet in his case
it was mixed with raw male desire; he felt his crotch bulging as he
walked into the room behind his wife and wondered if anyone noticed.
Was his thing sticking out? It felt like it was. He knew his Brooks
Brothers jacket flapped close to his groin, but did the cut of it
actually cover him there? He didn’t think so. It was too late to look
down now, to check. Beside him, more composed, taller than himself by
several inches, walked William. The man jutted forth his chin, adorned
with his black goatee, and had a satisfied look on his face. After all,
it wasn’t his wife who would be pulled over the block this evening. His
own wife would only be a helper to ‘the condemned,’ as he’d described
Kelly in the car ride over to the hotel.
John cleared his throat. He tried to smile at the people
around him. It was a lavish hotel suite. It contained several rooms,
plus a swimming pool. The pool had been drained and covered over with a
thick, insulated tarp to serve the needs of this evening’s party. Down
in the pool, waiting, was a trestle. It was a sturdy affair, made of
solid wood, bolted into the floor of the pool. It had a leather
crosspiece to which, for added comfort, a pillow had been bound.
The hotel was discreet in such arrangements. Few who stayed in
the suite and swam in the pool knew of its double use. But to those in
the room this evening, the twin natures of the pool were no secret.
They smiled at Kelly and she, bravely, smiled back. She knew why she
had come and they did too. Her gloved hand trembled as Jill led her
forward to the banquet table where, taking their leisure, not hurrying
at all, they would enjoy a fine feast prior to retreating to the pool.
The other men present nodded at John. They had met William
before, so, by deduction, since they knew William and Jill would be
bringing the new couple, they guessed John to be the husband. Like he
they were dressed in Brooks Brothers suits. It was not the normal
attire for men on the island, but then this was not a normal evening.
The ladies present enjoyed seeing their men so conservatively dressed.
It gave an extra sparkle to the affair, seeing men dressed like New York
City bankers who were at the same time fighting an urge not to spend in
their pants.
Kelly felt ravishing in her pearls and her gloves and her
seductive, sheathing dress. Even as she first stepped into the room,
all nervous about what her husband had commited her to, she thought she
could feel arrows of envy coming from the eyes of the women present.
They were young, but she was younger. They were seductively dressed in
expensive skirts and gowns, but she was the center of attention this
evening, because of what would happen to her. She smiled, anxiously.
She glanced at the assembled women. At the men. She felt the ultimate
indifference of the former to her fate, and the excessive lust of the
latter.
She had not wanted to come. And yet, now that she was hear,
passing through the crowd toward a fine banquet table, she felt a thrill
at being so intently watched by them all. Her every quiver, her every
nervous wiggle, was noted with intense eyes by those around her. They
evaluated her hair, so neatly pinned up, and she knew they found it
perfect in its arrangement. She felt their eyes scan her face and she
knew, behind her blushing cheeks, that they saw a delicate model’s face,
and wondered if she was a model they’d seen in a catalog or a fashion
magazine. The very clothes they were wearing she might have worn first,
in Paris, an unknown but very pretty American model. John had sworn she
was just his wife, his young wife, but if an American model were to
visit the islands and agree to taste its wilder aspects, would she want
her identity known? Of course not, and so, Kelly knew, as they gazed at
her, they wondered if she was a model, even though in fact she was just
John’s wife.
The women present took particular delight in the condition of
their men. Each man had sworn to abstain from having any ejaculation
whatsoever for four days. The women had wanted a week, the two sides
had compromised on four days. Given the easy nature of the islands, the
restraint on the part of the men was considerable. They were all
handsome; at every turn a female beckoned, either native, or visiting
from afar. A quick trip to the beach could procure for a man with the
looks these men possessed a ready and willing partner. His wife or
beloved might be out shopping, or, perhaps, claiming to be shopping
while in fact dallying with another man. But he need not feel any
jealousy here in the islands, if he was of good humor, for he could just
as easily find himself between the sheets.
Yet despite the freedom with which pleasure could be found,
these men tonight had sworn themselves to forgo it. And, as far as any
of them could tell, they had in fact forgone such delights. So as the
women conversed, or gazed with pleased if envious eyes at Kelly, at the
same time they noted the bearing of the men, and considered with quiet
delight how each one of them was more than ready for the evening’s
events.
“Kelly, this is Svernha,” Jill said to the girl whom she was
leading by the hand toward the banquet table. Kelly blanched; she gazed
up into the eyes of a Japanese man who, with quiet confidence, stared
down at her. He noted, as he looked, the gentle swell of her bosoms.
She felt herself flush. He merely nodded in reply. He was calm; she
felt her nervousness increase by tenfold. Jill drew her away, and as
she moved (so quickly! so hurriedly!) away from the man, she knew his
eyes were sizing up the rondeur of her bottom. For, as she’d already
been told in the car, it was a Japanese man named Svernha, hired
specially for the occasion, who after the banquet would impart to her
bottom the whipping she’d come for.
They seated themselves at the table. Men seated women; save
for Jill, who, as Kelly’s chaperone for the evening, took care of
seating her. All was decorous, composed. Kelly remembered the banquet
room of the Titanic and, though there was only one table here, she felt
rather like a doomed guest on that ship. For certainly her fanny was
doomed. In the morning, she had been warned, she would be quite unable
to sit on it as she was doing so freely and easily now.
Two waiters appeared. The candles on the table were lit and
the lights in the room were turned low. A salad was brought and
served. Each guest was offered a selection of dressings to go with
their salad. Kelly, nervously, chose the dressing she’d liked best as a
child; Thousand Island.
“Eat lightly, but partake of as much wine as you wish,” Jill,
sitting beside Kelly, smiled. The girl nodded in reply. She knew why
the wine was recommended. It would mystify her a little and make
Svernha’s strokes easier to bear. She chose a red wine from the wine
list.
A casual conversation ensued. Kelly ate quietly, her head
bowed. She listened to the other guests as they discussed all manner of
things, none of them about what portended for her this evening. It was
like any banquet, except everyone knew what must happen when the food
was consumed.
Occasionally Kelly looked up. When she did, she inevitably saw
someone smiling at her. She tried smiling back; managed it, awkwardly.
Then, contritely, she returned to her salad, nervously trying not to
spill it down the front of her breasts. Her fingers shook; but she did
not drop anything. She chewed slowly and quietly.
“Kelly,” Jill said, interrupting the girl’s inward-looking
thoughts. “You must choose who shall carve the bird.”
Kelly looked up. The lights had been raised a little. It was
time for the main course. Kelly glanced up at the increased glow of the
overhead chandelier; wishing they hadn’t turned up the lights. It made
her frightened face easier to see. It made her soft bosoms, quivering
in her tight dress, all the more noticeable. She swallowed.
For a moment Kelly couldn’t remember what Jill had said. It
was only the salad she’d eaten so far! Was she to go now? Oh, not
yet! She felt she would collapse if someone tried to make her get up
just now. She was so nervous!
“Kelly, you must choose a man to carve the bird,” Jill said
again. “Choose your favorite. Anyone may be chosen. Anyone but
Svernha.”
Kelly put a hand to her throat. It was slim, swan-like. It
had a blush to it from the sun, a color that rose in her tanned cheeks
and made her look adorable. She opened her eyes wide and stared at
everyone around her.
“She’s deciding,” Jill told the others. In fact Kelly was
thinking about the fate of her bottom, but she tried to listen to Jill
and to do as she was told. Choose? Choose whom? Whomever she wished?
Oh, she wished Svernha would not be so calm, sitting in Buddhist
tranquility down at the foot of the table, and she wished, if she chose
anything, that she might choose to see him dismissed.
But that would not be polite, Kelly told herself. He was an
honored guest. One could not just dismiss an honored guest. But he has
been invited to---! Kelly’s mind shouted in reply.
“Please choose somebody,” Jill told Kelly, intruding on her
warring thoughts.
Kelly gazed at the men. They were all so handsome! And so
finely dressed, in their Brooks Brothers suits, here in the sparkling
light of the chandelier. Whom to choose? To slice the bird? To show
his bird!
Kelly pointed. A young man blushed as she singled him out. He
was perahps in his mid-20’s, half a decade older than Kelly but still
quite young compared to some of the men present, whose ages ranged as
high as 40. He was, unknown to Kelly, a young lawyer, newly signed with
a top island firm, and yet now she was singling him out!
He stood up. He had been briefed what to do, all the men had,
if he should be so fortunate? to be picked by the girl who was the guest
of honor this evening. He undid the buttons of his jacket. He glanced
at Kelly, sitting humbly in the middle of the table. She had no special
place at the table, as Svernha did, yet a single pointed finger from her
could entirely change (had entirely changed!) the entire course of the
young man’s evening.
The lawyer removed his jacket. He felt his hands shaking a
little. The older woman beside him recieved it into her hands and
watched him with bright eyes. He had only just learned her name, this
evening. Yet now she was helping him to disrobe!
The others sat and watched. Their eyes were predatory as they
watched the young lawyer remove layer after layer of his clothing. His
vest, his tie, his cufflinks. His shirt. His undershirt. The woman
beside him helped him with his belt. She drew it off and remarked with
pleasure at the make of the leather. It had a buckle of pure silver.
Fighting to remain calm, the lawyer pulled down his pants. The
others smiled. He looked at Kelly. Then, quickly and hoping not to
make a display of his newly liberated self, the lawyer shucked down his
shorts.
The man gulped as his penis shot to attention in front of him.
There was a titter of laughter from the ladies. Even Kelly blushed and
put her hand to her mouth. The men shared a hearty chuckle. The lawyer
looked down at himself and saw that there was no hiding, no denying his
excitement now. He was quite naked, from his head to his shoes,
retaining only his socks and footwear now, with his underpants banding
themselves around his knees.
Whispering softly, the fingers of the woman who sat beside the
lawyer ran down his thighs and pulled his underpants down to his feet.
The lawyer stepped awkwardly out of his shorts. It was difficult to do,
with his shoes and socks still on. His shoes, brightly polished,
gleamed in the light from the chandelier.
“May I sit back down now?” the lawyer asked Jill.
“Why no, that would hide your fine erection from our view,”
Jill answered. Her eyes gazed frankly at the lawyer’s cock. It was
long, sturdy. A dollop of precum formed at its tip and glistened in the
light spilling down from the chandelier.
A soft hand stroked the lawyer’s thigh. It savored his muscled
flesh. It whispered higher, snuck between his legs, and tested the feel
of his balls.
“Oh. You’re quite full,” the woman sitting calmly beside the
lawyer said. He did not at the moment remember her name, as he stood
with a confused look on his face before the gathered banqueters. But he
did remember that she had a fine pair of breasts, and as her slender
fingers cupped and held the wide girth of his balls he also remarked to
himself how delicious it would be if she suddenly, rudely, squeezed him,
and refused to let go of his tender equipment. He felt his cock swell
and present itself even more lewdly to the assembled faces. He glanced
again at Kelly.
“This is your fault,” the lawyer heard himself say to her,
quietly, without speaking, hoping to assure her of her guilt with only
his eyes. “It is your fault that I, a striving young lawyer, fresh out
of law school, hoping to make a dignified impression on the world, am
standing here with my cock hanging out.” The lawyer swallowed hard. He
realized as he stood there, figeting, that the size and width of his
penis was being evaluated by everyone, even by Kelly herself. He was
new to the island. He had come to the party on a lark, invited by the
woman beside him. She had warned him of what might happen, but he had
never dreamed the girl selected for punishment would choose him to carve
the turkey!
Yet now, here he was, chosen, picked out over all the other
males, and with his cock on display like some captured animal.
The older woman seated beside the lawyer’s standing figure
tapped his leg. He turned. She presented him with a knife. It was
long. It glinted with a sharp metallic glow. He held it carefully in
his hands and realized how close its edge was to his naked penis.
“Cut the bird,” the older woman said to the lawyer. The young
man nodded. One of the waiters took the top off of the bird, set in the
center of the table. As the silver lid was removed from off the bird
the lawyer leaned over the table. He lifted the knife that he’d been
given. As his right hand tried to hold the knife steady, he noticed
with trepidation how close to the bird his stiff penis extended. He
drew back his hips a little. Then, awkwardly, he sliced the long knife
down through the freshly cooked turkey.
They ate. The lawyer was forced to eat in the nude. His ass
rubbed against the velvet seat of his chair. Whenever more turkey was
needed it was his task to stand up and slice it. He was admired freely,
the man sitting beside him, opposite the woman, even leaned close and
whispered how trim his ass looked. The lawyer tried not to blush, his
cock all exposed, his buns easily seen, but it was hard. He ate
self-consciously. The woman beside him insisted on slipping a napkin
down between his legs, so that, she said, his dick would not drip precum
onto the velvet chair.
“You need a bib,” the woman smiled at him, feeling his penis as
she slid the napkin under his dick.
“Thanks,” the lawyer said. In fact his cock was so long that
it hung off the end of the chair, dripping on the carpet, but the woman
put the napkin on his chair anyway.
Dinner proceeded, was finished. Dessert was served. A
chocolate cake, with a choice of ice cream placed on top, offered by the
two waiters. Kelly was halfway through her cake, enjoying the scoop of
strawberry ice cream on top of it, when Jill tapped her arm.
“Come, that’s enough,” Jill said to Kelly. “We must go now.”
“Now?” Kelly said. She looked up from her plate. Her voice
was plaintive.
“Now,” Jill said firmly. She pushed the girl’s plate away from
her. “Sweets aren’t good for you, anyway,” Jill smiled at Kelly. The
woman rose. She clasped one of Kelly’s gloved hands and urged her to
rise. Wildly Kelly looked first at her husband, who stared consciously
at his plate, then at William, who only grinned back at her
lasciviously. Lastly her eyes fell on the lawyer who, in his nudity,
was unable even to regain control of his shorts, let alone to save her.
“Oh, please!” Kelly blurted. Firmly Jill pulled her to her
feet. Kelly didn’t resist, save for her cry. Yet she trembled, all
over, and Jill had to clasp the girl’s waist in order to guide her out
away from her chair. Together they walked from the room. At the last
moment, her eyes like those of a deer caught and framed in headlights,
Kelly turned and gaped back at those sitting at the table. Her gaze
fell upon Svernha, sitting at the foot of the table, and he arched a
quiet eyebrow in acknowledgement.
“Oh!” Kelly moaned, but Jill hurried her through the door
leading into the swimming pool room, and the door shut quickly behind
them.
Beyond the room where the swimming pool lay, quiet under its
layer of insulation, was a room where those wishing to swim in the pool
might undress. It was small. It contained several lockers and a wooden
bench. Jill led her there and helped Kelly out of her clothes. She put
them, along with Kelly’s pearls, into one of the lockers.
“When will I get them back?” Kelly asked.
“After you’ve been whipped,” Jill said to the girl. Her voice
was gentle, but firm. Kelly looked at her and felt tears well up in her
eyes. “You have such a pretty dress,” Kelly said to Jill, feeling small
and terribly awkward as she stood now in the nude before her friend.
Jill picked up a piece of rubber that had been lying
inconspicuously on the wooden bench.
“Open,” Jill said to Kelly. The girl saw leather strings
dangling from the wedge of rubber and mistook it for some kind of bikini
bottom. She spread her legs. Jill laughed.
“Your mouth, silly!” Jill said. Kelly’s eyes widened. She
opened her lips while simultaneously drawing her thighs together. Jill
popped in the bit. Kelly gagged as the wedge of leather was fed to
her. It was wide, it made her cheeks bulge. She tasted a rubber taste
on her tongue. Lifting the strings that dangled from it, Jill tied them
behind Kelly’s head. The girl felt the woman’s dextrous fingers
knotting the laces, and helped by reaching back and holding her long
blonde hair pressed to her head, so that the laces wouldn’t become
tangled in her hair. When the task was done, Kelly was firmly bitted,
unable to say anything, and she could only look wonderously at Jill and
ask with her eyes what must happen next.
“Come,” Jill said. She took Kelly by the arm. The girl was
completely bare, except for her earrings, her short, wrist-length gloves
that she still wore on her hands, and her pumps on her (otherwise bare)
feet. With a gentle tug Jill drew Kelly back out into the room where
the swimming pool lay. Kelly saw the last of the guests descending the
swimming pool’s ladder, at its deep end, down under the insulating
tarp. It was a woman. She smiled up at Kelly as, fully clothed, the
woman descended down under the tarp. Kelly blushed, tasting the bit in
her mouth. She wished the woman could not see her this way.
Jill took Kelly over to the ladder.
“I’ll go down first. You follow,” Jill said to Kelly. The
girl nodded. Jill stepped through the arched rails of the ladder on the
pool deck and descended. Kelly, her mouth fettered and her clothes
impossible to retreive, followed meekly. She flushed as she looked down
at Jill, descending the ladder below her, and saw Jill’s eyes look up
and straight between her legs. Kelly felt herself moisten in that
private place and wished it was not so easily seen by Jill’s eyes.
“You smell wonderful,” Jill said, when they stood down at the
base of the ladder in the swimming pool. She pecked Kelly on the cheek
and Kelly wondered if it was her perfume Jill commented upon, or the
proximity to her cunt coming down the ladder. But Kelly had no time to
speculate on it, for her eyes were already dazzled by the spectacle that
greeted her. Down under the sound-proof covering of the tarp, the
swimming pool was empty. The guests Kelly had met at the banquet sat
fully clothed along two wooden benches. In between the two benches a
trestle had been erected. There, waiting for Kelly, was a pillow, plump
upon the trestle, with a padding of leather covering the trestle’s
crosspiece. Svernha stood nearby, a whip in his hand. Shackles lay
open at the base of each of the trestle’s four legs. Svernha bowed,
slightly, to Kelly, and said something in Japanese. Electric lights set
up in the swimming pool shone brightly upon the trestle. The rest of
the room, including the guests, was in relative shadow.
“She is naked. She is ready,” Jill said to the guests
assembled in the pool. They nodded approvingly. They stared at Kelly
with eager eyes. The lawyer, naked like Kelly, moved among the guests,
serving liquor and canapes. The two waiters who had attended to them
upstairs had been dismissed for the night, with large tips that bought
their silence regarding the size of the lawyer’s penis. As for the
pool, the waiters were ignorant of its dual nature. The trestle had
been set up by the partiers themselves, several hours before. The
waiters suspected an orgy, nothing more. As for the pool, they did not
even know it was empty. The pool was heated when filled, and the tarp
was often used to keep the water warm, so the heat would not needlessly
escape.
Naked as if for a visit to the doctor, Kelly was drawn by Jill
into the center of the room. She stepped under the glare of the
electric spotlights and shivered. She looked with bitted mouth and
large, self-pitying eyes at the assembled guests. She gazed at her
husband. Though having the courage this time to return her stare, he
said nothing, and showed no emotion. Beside him sat William, larger and
taller, and the two of them looked like two partners in crime to Kelly,
the larger man leading on her husband in a game of vice. She felt
suddenly like a horse, stripped naked and brought from the paddock, to
run a race in which people would gamble on her flesh. In fact, she saw,
they were quietly placing bets, writing on cards and handing them to the
lawyer as he came around with their drinks. Kelly looked to Jill, fear
written all over her face.
“Yes, dear,” Jill said. “They are betting on how long it will
take before you break down and cry. All girls do, you know, over the
trestle. Not a one escapes that.” Jill lifted a finger and daubed a
tear in Kelly’s eye. “That one doesn’t count,” Jill said. “You must
break into honest bawling for the bets to be called.” Kelly sniffled.
She could say nothing, only stare. She was led forward through the
glare of the spotlights to the trestle. Jill patted the pillow. “Bend
over,” Jill told Kelly. The girl stiffened. Suddenly she flinched as
she heard a sharp crack behind her. The cheeks of her bottom tightened
involuntarily, showing their roundness. There was laughter; Kelly
realized Svernha had only struck the floor with his whip. “Bend,” Jill
said again to the girl. “You must show off your bottom and there is an
art to it, Kelly. Present it boldly, proudly. It is very pretty. You
will not be made to bleed, not tonight. Svernha has promised. But you
will be wealed, of course, so that you may have a trophy to show when
everything’s finished.”
Kelly was still standing erect, contemplating the trestle, when
she felt a finger lightly tap her bottom. She almost jumped out of her
skin, for instantly she knew, by the shortness of its fingernail and its
rude blunt feel, that it was a man’s finger, not Jill’s. She turned.
Svernha looked at her with slanted, wickedly interested eyes.
“He wants to know how high you wear your bikini in back, on the
beach, so that he might place your weal below it, so your suit will
cover it,” Jill explained to Kelly. The girl wriggled against the touch
of Svernha’s finger, reached back, grasped with frightened fingers his
wrist, and slid his hand up a little.
“There,” Kelly mumbled, through her gag. She pressed Svernha’s
finger against the upper part of her bottom. He smiled, his finger
indenting her flesh. He drew his hand away from hers.
“Now you must bend over, Kelly,” Jill told the girl. She
gripped Kelly by her neck and pushed down. Kelly felt like some kind of
instrument in her grasp, being bent, manipulated. When Kelly was
pressed down, her belly hard against the pillow, Jill moved in front of
her and knelt and fastened her hands to the wide-spread legs of the
trestle. In back of her, as she shivered, her naked bum exposed to all,
Kelly felt Svernha get down. He squatted and clipped her ankles fast to
the trestle’s feet.
She was unable to move. She could lift her bottom slightly,
that was all. She could raise, a little, her bitted face, but nothing
more than that. She could pull at the bonds round her hands and feet
all night, and they would remain implacably fixed to the trestle. Kelly
felt tears spring to her eyes. The guests leaned forward. Some had in
fact bet that she would cry instantly, upon being tied, but Kelly did
not know that and, to their disappointment, she found a reserve of
strength in her that caused her to feel a sudden blush of pride in
herself and not to cry. She was, after all, very pretty. She was
completely now, the center of everyone’s attention. Not a soul in the
room was thinking of anything but her.
Svernha sized up Kelly’s rear end. He passed his hand with
extreme lightness and care over her seat, as if handling the most
delicate china. Indeed, since Kelly’s bottom was untanned, in contrast
to the rest of her skin, it did have the allure of something fine and
utterly, untouchably perfect. The furrow parting her twin bottom cheeks
showed its interior; an even paler pallor, marked by a single rosebud
dimple where Kelly would eventually pass out the meal she’d eaten
earlier in the evening.
Svernha wedged a finger probingly between Kelly’s cheeks. He
touched her hole. At the same time his other fingers dipped down under
the curve of her bottom and felt the soft fruit of her sex.
“You are quite exposed, my dear,” Jill remarked to the girl,
standing in front of her. She passed a hand through Kelly’s artfully
pinned-up blonde hair. “How deliciously tragic it would be if Svernha,
in aiming for your seat, found instead your opening between. You pride
yourself on your refusal to allow anything up your bottom. Yet, were
Svernha’s whip to strike you there with sufficient force, the knotted
tip would drive into your nether hole quite without any regard for your
wishes.”
“Oh!” Kelly gasped. But the bit in her mouth stifled her cry.
Her bosoms under her trembled. She tried to get up and only managed to
rattle the steel bonds that were holding her.
Jill nodded to Svernha. “Make it difficult for her,” Jill told
the man. “She is generous with herself but she is wilful too. Her
bottom in particular seems to be some sort of hallowed part of herself,
in her eyes. She needs help in learning its erotic potential. Caress
her with the whip, as sternly as you please, so that, in punishing her,
she may learn to open herself completely to life’s pleasures.” Jill
patted Kelly on her head, as one might a dog, or a cat. “Is that not
what you want, my dear?” Jill asked the bent-over girl. Then she
laughed. “Well, it is what I want for you, whatever your wishes may
be. Lash her hard, Svernha. When you go back to Japan you can boast to
all your acquaintances about how you taught an American girl to feel the
greatest respect for Asian ways. The ways of the whip.”
“Yes,” Svernha, in his only utterance so far this evening,
said, with a broad, but dignified smile. He patted Kelly’s bare
bottom. “In Japan we feel our women are far better trained than you are
here in America,” he added.
“Yes,” Jill said. “Well, here’s one you can train, anyway,”
Jill said. She stroked Kelly’s hair again. “Be good, my sweet. And
don’t cry too soon. I’ve placed a bet on you, believing you to be very
strong and brave. Don’t disappoint me.”
Struggling over the block, quite frightened now, Kelly tried to
rise. It was hopeless. It only showed off her bottom more fully, and
made the guests laugh at its wigglings. She felt her bosoms hanging
beneath her, trembling, and wondered if the whip, curling around her,
would find one of her teats and strike it. That thought made her shiver
intensely. It scared her more than even the thought of her bottom being
scored by the whip though only she knew it, with the bit full in her
mouth. The guests chuckled at the way her young, lovely breasts swung
freely beneath her.
Rearing herself in the spotlights, Kelly was not unmindful,
despite her fear, of the alluring sight she presented. Her 19-year-old
bottom, a young bride’s bottom, was ready for action. Her sex was
openly displayed, its moist folds apparent between her legs. Her anus,
which everyone in the room now knew was virgin, showed its inviting
dimple within the wide-spread cheeks of her perfect seat. The men in
the room were handsome suitors. Would they really let her be punished
severely by the strange Japanese man? Kelly bit hard on the bit between
her teeth and told herself that, no matter what happened, if she could
just hang on a few minutes, a man would spring forward (perhaps
several!) and save her from her fate. Then she would be a rescued
princess, and the men would reward her with pleasures that would make
her husband so jealous he’d want to die. Yes! And William too would be
jealous, and would rush forward, eager to see that her bottom wasn’t
given away to one of the other men, and they would battle over her, and
the punishment intended for her would instead be inflicted on
themselves, as they struggled to see who would win her. Even her own
husband would feel compelled to enter, and she would laugh at the men
fighting each other to see who could have her.
SWICK!
Kelly’s eyes opened wide and her breath drew in sharply. The
whip! It burned across her seat, leaving a flaming line of heat in its
wake. Kelly arched up, trying to rise. Her tits shook. She squeezed
her bum. She felt it tighten, then open again as her muscles, after a
moment, relaxed. In response she clenched her ass again, and she held
it as long as she could, finally showing anew her sweet dimpled anus,
her cheeks tiring.
SWWWWICK! A double salute assailed Kelly’s bottom. Her cheeks
worked themselves in and out in clenching and unclenching. She lifted
her head, gasped, her eyes poppingly-wide. Oh, it hurt! It felt like
twin bees had landed on her bottom. They left stingers behind, impaling
her soft flesh in twin dots of pain.
SWAAAK!
“YeeehOOOOO!” Kelly blurted behind her bit. It drowned her
shrill cry. She arched hard in an upward motion, simultaneously working
her hips, striving to throw off the pain by squeezing her naked
asscheeks together. Her thighs showed slim and taut, poised in a wide
vee. There was laughter. A woman watching the spectacle called to
Svernha to place the thong tip “where she might remember it for a very
long time.”
Kelly felt her pinned-up hair loosen atop her head. Several
strands spilled down round her eyes. She squeezed hard on the bit
between her teeth. She regretted now completely having let herself in
for this, but how could she relay her wishes to the others? She blushed
as she heard them laughing at her. There were no men running out to
rescue her, despite how pretty she looked. Oh, how long must she wait?
she asked herself. How long must she endure this before her husband, at
least, would rise up and insist she be freed, that she suffer no more?
The lights on Kelly’s bottom showed its state to everyone
present. Two long, bright red lines crossed her cheeks. In additon to
that there were three pin-point sized red spots. Otherwise her cheeks
were milk white, flawless. They ground together, tensing and flexing in
the warm air of the drained swimming pool. When Kelly’s strength failed
her the soft cheeks of her ass lay open like a split-apart peach. She
showed all she had to give, the slit of her cunt on offer, the twinkling
aperature of her anus. There was nothing hidden. She was a delicate,
pretty girl, with lean strong thighs. She felt like a pony, being
whipped down a long arduous track to a distant finish.
Hoping to inspire the gentlemen to save her, Kelly stuck out
her bottom. Bravely she displayed its fine-skinned cheeks and its
treasure-like hole, and the lovely fig of her sex which hung purselike
beneath it. Even as she squeezed it and regretted its burning
condition, she offered it to the eyes of the men, hoping against hope
that they would find her beauty irresistible.
The men were deeply moved, but only to unzip themselves. Kelly
heard their zippers, waited desperately for the sound of their
forward-rushing feet, and instead heard only coarse laughter.
SWAAAAAACK!
“GEE-heeeee!” Kelly wailed. The bit forcibly wedged in her
mouth, that made her cheeks wide and bloated, stifled her cry. But it
could not constrain her bottom. It rotated lasciviously in response to
the whip, showing all its aspects, both tight-cheeked and yawning wide
in despiar, as it strove to shake off the pain so deeply imparted to
it. Kelly felt like she was on fire! She tried hard, pressing her toes
to the floor, to shove herself foward, but only succeeded in making a
display of her bottom. She heard the women laugh, along with the men,
and blushed. It was a deeper blush than any she’d suffered before and
Jill darted forward and lifted her chin and looked into her teary eyes
to make sure she was okay. She placed a finger beneath Kelly’s nose.
She felt her outflow of breath and waited and watched as Kelly breathed
in again.
“She’s fine,” Jill announced, and let go of Kelly’s chin as if
releasing the head of a rag doll. Kelly’s head flopped down. At once
the whip connected again with her bottom. She jerked, reared. She
heard Jill laugh and say, “My, what a bucking bronco you’d make!”
“Don’t be utterly insensitive to her plight,” a woman said to
Jill. Kelly shoved her hips in undulating motions toward the tarp
overhead, the illuminated cheeks of her ass showing their marks, as the
woman rose, and walked out to where Jill stood. Kelly, her face gaping
at the floor, heard Jill laugh.
“Yes,” Jill said.
SWAAAAAAAK! The whip struck again. Kelly shrieked and pulled
hard on her bonds. Her bottom offered itself, in frantic seat-twisting
motions, to the laughing eyes of the crowd.
When Kelly’s bucking hips had subsided, she felt wet tears on
her face. Had she been crying? She didn’t know, her emotions were such
a swirl. Her every scream went unheard. Her every attempt to escape
only showed off more fully that one part of herself that she now wished
desperately she’d never revealed. She thought of her neat, white
school-girl like panties in the locker upstars. She remembered her
dress, wistfully, and just thinking of it made her burst into tears.
Yes, she realized, the last stroke of the whip, so cruelly delivered
down under her bottom, where the softest part of her seat was, had
brought a torrent of tears to her eyes. She heard movement behind her.
‘OH, NO MORE’ Kelly shouted, but the bit made her words inaudible. She
felt a jab. It insinuated itself along her wet cunny lips and then
jabbed again.
“I never knew a feather could be so randy,” Jill laughed.
“NOOOOO!” Kelly shrieked. But her words went unheard. To
Kelly’s great mortification, Jill began to attack her ripe, swollen sex
with an ostrich feather. Its swirling, intruding tip made Kelly’s sex
wetten even more fully than it already was. She felt eyes on her
bottom, staring, watching with fascination as Kelly was made to become
aroused. She was still bound over the trestle, but now she was brought
to a high state of pleasure by the tickling feather. Try as she might,
Kelly couldn’t avoid it. Patiently Jill worked it over her cunt until
it was as enflamed as the seat of her whip-scorched bottom.
“And now, Kelly,” Jill said with obvious satisfaction. “Now
I’m going to pop your cherry.”
“NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Kelly howled in a long, bit-drowned wail.
Jill laughed. Everyone in the room laughed. Kelly felt the feather,
wet from her own sex, lifted and placed between the cheeks of her
bottom. It tickled. Kelly squeezed her cheeks but the feather, already
inserted between them, was merely trapped by her squeezing flesh. As
soon as Kelly relaxed her fanny the feather darted against her tight
little hole. Kelly felt the moistness of its tip. It circled her
crinkled, cherry opening. Kelly squeezed again. For long minutes Jill
dueled with her, teasing her asshole whenever Kelly released her young
bottom cheeks enough for the feather not to be caught between them. At
last, Jill clapped a hand to Kelly’s cheeks, and thumbed them frankly
apart. Kelly squeezed. Jill resisted. With her free hand she passed a
finger quickly under Kelly’s sex, moistening it, and then stuck it
within the aperature of Kelly’s back hole.
“YOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Kelly shrilled. The finger poked deeper.
Kelly squeezed her bottom as hard as she could.
SLAP! Jill’s hand slapped against Kelly’s round, blushing
cheeks.
“Don’t, break off my finger, Kelly,” Jill scolded. Slowly,
deliberately, the woman then pushed deeper. Kelly fought her all the
way, squeezing her ass cheeks tightly, frankly trying to do just what
the woman had warned her not to.
Jill withdrew her digit. She turned to Svernha.
“She is too resistant,” Jill said to Svernha. “Give her a
dozen more strokes. And make sure at least one of them bites her right
on her anus. If she won’t accept my soft, probing finger, maybe a bee
sting will please her instead!”
30
----------------------- Dreamgirls! -----------------------
-Back issues (and stories): type
http://www.dejanews.com/
into your browser’s “Location” window. Press your “return” key.
Click on “Power Search” in the middle of the screen. Next,
Type in: roller666@earthlink.net in the box that appears.
Click on “find” (the button to the right of the box).
-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/
-When visiting Barnes and Noble, ask for: Jock Sturges’ Radiant
Identities and David Hamilton’s The Age of Innocence. Support art!
- 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 1998 and a trademark of Andrew Roller.
-END OF story EMISSION Need a book? http://www.amazon.com
--
+--------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `------------+
| story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us | story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us |