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From: Andrew Roller <roller666@earthlink.net>
Subject: feb 11 Summer of Sin part 9 of 9 (NND)
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_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
SUMMER OF SIN
_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
Chapter Nine
We went into a living room, John leading the way, Pauline
guiding me as I walked with cuffed hands in front of her. I still had a
feeling of being protected, despite her desire to see me flogged, for
her hands were very gentle in handling me. The two young men who’d met
us at the front door to their house stood in the living room. Their
loin cloths were gone. However, they still wore their ‘male chastity
pins,’ as I heard someone refer to them. Big, emerald-tipped tweezers,
one end stuck up into their pee hole while the other clamped the
underside of their cock’s head. It was hoped, at least, that by being
plugged up like that the two boys would not spend. I wondered, though,
if they got excited enough, if they couldn’t manage somehow to shoot out
their jism anyway. Already I could see pre-cum oozing out around the
emerald stuck at the end of each boys’ dick. The tweezers, I guessed,
were more a device of torture, perhaps to discipline the mind, than a
device that could keep all their sperm in them if they suffered an
orgasm. The pin in their penis was a way of telling them that they were
not permitted to cum.
One of the young men set down a large silver bucket. It was
packed with ice. Inside it was a smaller bucket. It had clear fluid in
it. Pauline leaned over one of the sofas in the living room. There
were lace doilies on the armrests of the sofas in the room. She picked
one up. She walked me over to the bucket. She dipped the doily in the
bucket. She drew it up, dripping with the clear fluid. She put it to
my face. I smelled wine. It was cold, from being in the bucket packed
with ice. Pauline rubbed it all over my face, cleaning it of the ice
cream she’d so rudely smooshed over my nose and eyes. Then she handed
the lace doily to the nearest boy slave. He took it, and left the room.
“I’m sorry,” Pauline said to me. She kissed my wine-wettened
cheek. I was thankful for her cleaning my face, but the rest of me she
left untouched. I was still messy all down my front. Food, syrup,
melted ice cream decorated the stiff stems of my nipples, the outswell
of my breasts. It ran down the flatness of my tummy to moisten me in
the inviting place between my legs. However, the rest of me was still
clean. Since Pauline had washed my face, it no longer had ice cream on
it. As for the hair on my head, it was decorated only with small bits
of food. They clung to loose strands, hanging down past my eyes, that
had been unfortunate enough to get caught in the corners of my mouth.
My smooth back and round little bottom had escaped entirely. It was a
strange sight; the front of me splattered while the back of me was
unblemished.
“I want a bath,” I said frankly to Pauline.
“Then you shall have it,” she replied.
“In the living room?” I asked.
“Yes,” Pauline said. A smirk of a smile lifted up the ends of
her lips. She kissed me. “You are so sweet,” she murmured. “You’re
good for practising having a baby, do you know that?” she asked me.
“No,” I said. “I don’t want to be a baby.”
“Sit down on the couch,” Pauline said. I did, and at once she
scolded me. “Not like that,” she said. “Sit on the edge of the couch,
so that only the back of your bottom is resting on it. Sit with your
legs splayed, so we can all see your cunt. We’re going to have a bath,
just as you’ve requested.”
I complied. Pauline told Rebecca and Chrissy, who were messy
like me, though not as badly, to sit as I was sitting. The men also
were made to sit with their legs apart, showing us their equipment,
their butts perched on the ends of the couches where they sat.
“Steve, you must sit with Rebecca,” Pauline told Chrissy’s
husband. “Brad, you sit with Chrissy. I’ll handle Chloe. John,” she
said, looking up at her husband, who still towered over us, “You may do
as you please, for you are master of all of us.”
“Indeed I am,” John answered, his big penis hanging off the
front of him. He picked up a pair of black leather gloves off the
surface of a table holding a lamp. He drew them on. He flexed his
fingers, wearing them, and looked directly at me. “You have a nice
ass,” John told me. I swallowed hard. The slave boy who had left with
the soiled doily now returned with a coiled black leather whip in his
hands. He gave it to John.
“Kneel down, white boy,” John said. “I need an ass to practise
on.”
The boy was beautifully-formed. His skin was golden from being
naked on the island. His cock stuck out in front of him, competing in
size with that of John’s. He gulped.
“Don’t hit my balls,” the boy said. Then, with a quick glance
at us, he knelt down on the floor.
“Legs apart,” John told the boy.
“No!” I shouted. Pauline put a stiff finger over my lips.
“Shhhh,” she said. “He is paid well to be our slave. John
must have target practise on someone, if he is not to hurt you. He must
limber up, you know.”
“Ohhh, I’m frightened for him,” I said.
“It is not his first time,” Pauline told me.
“Oh, please don’t,” Rebecca murmured, in a soft, quiet voice,
watching from across the room.
“I want to see his ass glow,” Chrissy said. She grinned.
John raised his big whip. It had a very long tail. It had a
big handle, made of black ivory, that he gripped in his gloved right
hand.
“I must kiss him first! He is so brave!” I cried. Still
handcuffed, I leaped out of Pauline’s lap. I ran over to where the boy
was kneeling, in the center of the room. Oblivous to the danger of
John’s whip, which he now had lifted in preparation to strike, I dropped
to my knees. I knelt behind the boy. I gazed with wonder at his big
pair of balls between his legs. I leaned forward. I kissed them,
letting the hair growing on them tickle my nose. Then I kissed each of
the cheeks of his ass.
John reached down and grabbed one of my arms. He yanked me to
my feet.
“Get out of my way,” John growled. He pushed me aside. I
stumbled back toward Pauline, who stood up and caught me before I could
fall to the floor. She drew me back to the couch. We sat down again.
I was made to open my legs, so that my cunt could be seen by all.
TWAAACK! The whip struck. The boy howled. We all watched
with mesmerized eyes. I felt myself suddenly wishing to cry. Pauline
held me close, kissed me on my cheek.
“Don’t worry,” she said.
“But what if he hits his balls?” I gasped.
“He is not a novice,” Pauline answered. I didn’t know who she
spoke of; the boy? Her husband? I was too scared to ask.
The whip struck again. It made the boy gasp. He lurched
forward. Yet he did not try to rise. He remained kneeling, taking each
lash bravely.
“That is good,” John said, after striking the boy again.
“You!” he called to the other. “Kneel in his place. It is your turn.”
The one boy rose, the other knelt down. The boy who’d just
been whipped clutched the cheeks of his bottom. He massaged them
fiercely. He sniffled a little. But, thankfully, despite his scorched
bottom, I guessed that his balls had been spared. As for his penis, it
was as stiffly beautiful as ever. It stuck out in front of him like
some lewd ornament. The emerald was still poked in his pee hole.
We watched, fascinated and appaled, as the other slave boy
received a whipping from John. Each stroke of the awful whip caused the
boy to lurch forward on his knees. He cried a little. His dick swung
forward and back, like a pendulum, under the force of the blows.
When John was finished he told the boy to stand. He did. He
rubbed his ass, smarting at the hurt. John laughed.
“Get what we need for our bath,” John told the boys.
Obediently, the boys left the room. A minute later one of them
returned. He was carrying a tray. He brought it over to Pauline. On
the tray were several plastic teddy bears. Pauline picked up one of the
bears.
“Steve, do you know what this is?” Pauline asked Chrissy’s
husband.
“Sure,” Steve answered, sitting across from us on a couch with
Rebecca. “It’s a fucking teddy bear.”
“Very good,” Pauline smiled. “And where might you see a teddy
bear like this?”
Steve furrowed his brows.
“I dunno,” he said finally. “But I’ve seen them before.”
“I know!” I said suddenly. “You buy them at the grocery. They
come with honey in them. Clover honey!”
“Very good,” Pauline said to me. She unscrewed the cap off the
bear. She dipped him down into the bucket with the chilled wine in it.
She filled him with wine. There was a small folded towel on the tray
the boy had brought her and she used it to dry off the bear when she had
filled him with wine. Then, setting him back on the tray, she proceeded
to submerge each of the other bears in the wine, filling up each one.
She dried them all off when she was through.
I looked at the tray the boy had brought out. It now had a
half-dozen plastic bears on it, each of them filled with wine.
“Pass them out,” Pauline said to the boy. She took one of the
bears for herself. The boy walked round with the tray and made everyone
else in the room take one.
“Now, we are going to use these to bathe,” Pauline said.
“However, as you can see, our water supply,” she giggled. “I mean, our
wine supply, is limited. So only the most important parts can be washed
on everyone’s bodies. On the men, the penis. On the women, the tits
and,” she glanced at my open legs. “The cunt.” She looked up at John.
“Dear, would you please supervise us? If any of us disobeys, and starts
squirting his or her partner indiscriminitely, please order us to be
punished. Just like you punished the two boys.”
“Sure,” John said. He turned the teddy-bear bottle he was
holding upside down. He squirted his penis with it. “Ahh, that feels
good,” John said. In his other hand he still held his whip. “Do as my
wife says,” he told us. “Otherwise you’ll find yourself on your knees
in the middle of the room, with my whip to answer to.”
Pauline smiled. She took the honey bottle she held and aimed
it between my legs.
“Let’s get you cleaned up a little, hmmm?” Pauline asked me.
“Oh, not like that!” I gasped. I watched as her delicate
fingers squeezed the honey bottle. A shot of wine suddenly squirted out
of the bottle and hit me between my legs.
“Keep them apart!” Pauline warned me.
“Ohhh! The wine is so cold!” I gasped. It struck my cunt. I
wanted to squeeze my legs shut but I feared John’s whip. Pauline
grinned and squeezed her bottle again. Another spurt of wine fired into
my cunt.
“Eeeeek!” I heard Rebecca cry, across the room. Steve was
firing champagne up into her cunt. Chrissy, too, let out a screamy gasp
as Brad bathed her cunny with shots of cold wine.
“And now your nipples,” Pauline said to me. Deftly she raised
the bottle and, squeezing it anew, fired squirts of cold wine over my
cherry-tipped tits.
“Oh! I can’t stand it!” I pleaded. The wine was so cold! All
the rest of me she left untouched, just squirting my tits, and then down
between my legs again, where my cunny lay in soft withdrawn folds
between my legs.
“Yes, you must take the whole bottle,” Pauline smirked. She
kept squirting me. At last every drop of wine from the bottle she held
had been squirted over my tits or into my cunt.
“There,” Pauline said. “Now, girls and boys, it’s time to
switch.” She looked round at the others. But, as it turned out, there
was no need to instruct them. Already, they were taking turns anointing
each other’s privates with the wine. Steve would shoot a long squirt up
between Rebecca’s legs. Then, with her own bottle, she would squirt his
penis. Each couple, squirting the other, remained relentlessly focused
on the other’s sexiest parts. No wine was wasted on faces, or bellies,
or arms. All of it, every last ice-cold drop, was used to torment the
other where it would be felt most. On the nipples, and down between the
legs.
“Let’s use up all the wine,” Pauline suggested. She requested
keys for my handcuffs, pleased that I, like rest, had proven so obedient
to her wishes. A boy brought her keys for my cuffs and my wrists were
released. I wanted to dash around the room, grabbing a bear and
squirting everyone, but I did not. It seemed there was more fun to be
had in listening to Pauline, and doing as she asked.
We switched partners. The bears were refilled. I found myself
sharing a bear with Brad. I squirted his dick and then, giving him the
bear, he squirted my pussy. Others, both armed with bears, squirted
each other simultaneously. Rebecca got down on all fours and had
Chrissy squirt her between the cheeks of her ass. It was a tense, but
languid affair. We tortured each other for perhaps an hour that way,
all of us filled with lust, yet not hurrying, taking our time, savoring
what we could do to each other with just plastic bears, and cold wine.
“How pleasant,” Pauline said at last. She looked in the wine
bucket. It was empty. We’d used it all up, slowly squirting each
other. She grinned at us.
It was then that my boyfriend embarrassed himself. Pauline
noticed that I and Rebecca and Chrissy were still wearing our bibs. She
also saw that my boyfriend was still confined in his cockrings.
“Take those off,” Pauline said, and reached to untie my bib.
“Don’t. I like it,” I said. Tweety-Bird had gotten some food
stains on him, but I felt attached to him, for some reason. Perhaps he
made me feel childish, and there was a kind of security in that. After
all, they’d spared me the dental anesthesia. I was too young for some
things, and I enjoyed knowing that they had to be careful in handling
me. My bib reminded them of my youth.
Rebecca gladly undid her bib, however, as did Chrissy. They
tossed them onto the floor.
“I can’t get these damn rings off. They’re locked on to my
dick,” my boyfriend complained.
“Get the key, honey,” Pauline told her husband. He did, and
she tried again to undo my bib, but I stopped her.
“No,” I said. “Leave it on.”
“Oh, suit yourself,” Pauline said. She placed her fingers in
her cunt and rubbed herself. “Ohhhh. I’m so hot and horny. You look
like a little baby wearing that bib, you know that?” she asked me.
I diddled my pointing finger in my slit. My other hand lifted
a finger to my mouth and I sucked on it, gazing at the men’s cocks.
“I know,” I said, over my finger. “Oooch.” A tremor coursed
up through my belly and down my thighs as I shuddered very near to an
orgasm.
“Don’t,” Pauline cautioned me. She reached between my legs and
pulled my hand away. “There’s a pleasure in waiting,” she said. “Even
if it is an agonized pleasure.”
“Ohhh, I can’t wait for it anymore,” I told her. My voice was
frank. My finger distorted my words but there was no mistaking my
desires. “I want it NOW!” I said petulantly. I shoved my hips out at
her. I widened my legs, letting all who cared to look get a very
alluring view of my saucy cunt.
“Soon,” Pauline murmured.
“Chloe, do as you are told, or I’ll spank you,” my aunt said to
me. She was lying on the floor, her face pressed to the rug. Her
bottom was hoisted up and her hand palmed the flatness of her belly.
“I want to be fucked, auntie,” I said to her. I tried to put
my finger back into my slit but Pauline kept a hand on my wrist,
restraining me. I still sucked on my other finger. I shut my eyes and
sucked harder.
John Silver returned with the key for my boyfriend. He gave it
to Pauline. My aunt saw that I was going to make myself cum just as
soon as I got the chance and she reluctantly got up from the rug, where
she was making a display of her fanny, and walked over to the couch
where I was sitting. She plopped her bare bottom down beside mine. She
tossed back her long brown hair and said to John,
“She needs cuffs. She is too naughty to be left to herself.”
“Ohhh! I don’t want to be handcuffed again!” I cried.
But a moment later I was, still wearing my babyish bib, with
Tweety Bird on it, and a steel pair of handcuffs binding my wrists
behind me. My aunt made them tight and they hurt.
“Oh, please auntie, let me go!” I cried. I wiggled in my
cuffs, making my boobies sway in front of me. My nipples were risen and
I felt, in my too-tight cuffs, extraordinarily tender and vulnerable. I
watched, my legs splayed, as Pauline bent over my boyfriend to undo his
penis from the rings.
Suddenly, with her fingers caressing him inquistively, looking
for the hole in the ring around the base of his cock, so she could
insert the key, my boyfriend began orgasming right on Pauline’s leg.
“Oh! Brad! You’re cumming!” Pauline cried. We all watched as
long, ropey spurts of semen shot out of Brad’s penis. They splattered
across the lovely tanned flesh of Pauline’s thigh. She stood over him,
Brad sitting on the couch, herself standing but bent at the waist, her
lovely breasts hanging down pendulum-like as she touched his cock in
hopes of unlocking him.
The men laughed. We girls broke into laughter too, hearing the
men. Brad watched shamefacedly as his organ continued to spontaneously
spurt out sperm.
“Hey, white boy! You’re getting white stuff all over my living
room rug!” John cried.
“Not to mention your wife,” Steve said. Pauline, feeling sorry
for Brad and not quite sure what to do, crouched down in front of him.
His spume spurted onto the nest of her pubic hair as she crouched and
speckled her belly. Her breasts, swaying in front of his organ,
received the last spurting tribute from his cock. She smiled at how
messy he made her.
“That was quite a load,” Pauline said to Brad.
“I’m sorry,” Brad said, looking down at his dick.
“It’s alright,” Pauline said. “You can’t always control your
emissions.”
We watched as his cock slowly began to shrink. The rings
confining his organ became less burdensome as his dick decreased in
size. Pauline, as it turned out, didn’t have to unlock him. His penis
slipped out of the twin cock rings as it grew small and soft.
“Turn around. Let me pull that big dildo out of your butt,”
Pauline said to my boyfriend.
“Thanks,” Brad said. He hopped down off the couch. He turned,
and presented his small, hair-festooned ass to Pauline. Crouching
behind him, showing us her own glorious, perfect bottom, its ass crack
glossy and lovely in contrast to his hairy one, she yanked out the fake
cock. It was covered with a sheen of anal fluid. She asked her husband
to hand her a box of handkerchiefs. He did, along with a wastebasket.
She wiped Brad’s bottom and dropped both the big cock and the soiled
kleenex in the wastebasket. I guessed perhaps they might retrieve the
cock later, to use it again, on some future guest. Or perhaps not.
They were wealthy. They could afford to simply throw out dildos, if
they wished.
Pauline was given a moistex by her husband and she wiped her
hands. They worked well together, I thought. I wondered what other
tortures they had played at. The thought made me shiver. They looked
rather like a doctor and nurse, tending my boyfriend’s butt. They were
efficient, concerned but not to the point of losing their objectivity.
He was just one more guest, in a long succession of guests they’d
entertained. Suddenly I longed to be completely at their mercy; to
suffer whatever erotic torments they wished for me, to cum and cum again
under their wicked supervision.
“John?” I asked. He looked over at me. I sat on the couch
with my legs apart, my bosoms bare and hanging down under my too-short
bib. My eyes focused on his big thing and I asked, “Do all niggers have
dicks as big as you do?”
“Chloe, don’t call me a nigger,” John answered. His voice was
low and steady. My aunt, though, blurted,
“Chloe! Bad girl!” She struck me on the side of my face with
her hand. My ears rang. A red mark burned on my cheek where her hand
had hit me.
“Nigger,” I said again. I didn’t care if my aunt slapped me
again, even if it did make me hear bells in my head. I wanted to see
John get angry. I wanted to torment him with his blackness and force
him to take out all his repressed feelings on me.
My aunt lifted her hand to strike me again but John leaned out
and caught her. He held her by her wrist. Seeing her small hand
imprisoned in his big one, she lifted her face and stretched out her
neck and kissed his fingers.
“Ohhhh. I think you’re a nigger too,” Rebecca said to John.
She darted a hand inbetween her legs and rubbed herself.
“Girls,” John said. “If either of you calls me a nigger again,
I’m going to discipline you both like you’ve never been disciplined in
your life. Only the code word you memorized, in the invitation I sent
you, will be able to save your asses.”
“What code word?” I asked. I hadn’t seen the invitation my
aunt had gotten. She looked at me. The dog collar was around her neck,
as was mine, under my bib. She looked like a pet. With an animal lust
in her eyes, she leaned over to me, and spoke a word in my ear. It was
‘safety.’ Then, as if to release herself from any further
responsibility for me, she turned me quickly and undid the handcuffs on
my wrists. Gratefully I put my hands out in front of me. I took hold
of my wrists and rubbed them.
My aunt kissed my cheek. I felt like she was bidding me
goodbye. Then she looked up at John. “Sir, I still think you’re a
nigger,” she said.
“What if I forget it?” I asked her, about the code word. But
she was already gone, mentally. She was totally focused on John and she
was intent on making him mad.
John growled. He pulled my aunt up by her hair. She
shrieked. Her bosoms bounced with a lusty freedom as John made her
stand in front of him. She bowed her head submissively.
“Girl, you are going to be so sore by morning you’ll wish I
killed you,” John said to my aunt. We all watched wide-eyed as his big
black hands, in a strange show of affection, caressed her slim shoulders
and her white, frail limbs. He seemed to be sizing her up, taking her
measure, before subjecting her to his will.
My aunt reached for the box of kleenex that had been used to
wipe Brad’s butt. She pulled several fresh kleenex out of the box. She
wadded them into a ball. Then, standing with her head bowed before
John, who towered over her, she impulsively stuffed the kleenex into her
mouth.
“You can’t say the code word if your mouth is full of kleenex,”
John said to my aunt. His voice was gentle, but his hands gripped her
now, by her shoulders. He made her wince as he pressed his hands hard
against her. My aunt looked up at him. Over the kleenex, her cheeks
bloated by them and her voice distorted, she said,
“Nigger.”
“That does it!” John growled.
You can tell I was only 13 by what I did next. I grabbed one
kleenex after another from the box, until I had a whole big handful of
them. I smooshed them together. Then, staring up at John from my
leg-spread perch on the couch, looking quite cute in my Tweetie Bird
bib, I said to him,
“I think you’re a nigger too!” I laughed at the look of anger
that spread over his face. At the same time, I opened my mouth as wide
as I could and jammed the wad of kleenex into it.
John pulled me up by my hair. He grabbed the handcuffs and
grabbed my wrists. He spun me around. He locked the handcuffs onto my
hands. I was amazed at how quickly he worked. Then he turned my aunt
around also. There were no handcuffs for her, but he made her pull her
hands behind herself anyway and hold her hands there, as if they were
locked together. She obeyed. I felt a strange relish as John marched
us together out of the room. I stumbled as he pushed us ahead of him.
I almost fell. John had to catch me with his big hands to keep me from
falling and hitting my head on a table. I felt special as he gripped me
and directed my steps. Yet I knew I was in deep trouble. I shivered.
Our ‘game,’ if it could be called that, was going to hurt. Plenty. I
suddenly regretted what I’d done. Oh, why did I have to be such a brat?
John led us downstairs. He ushered us into a room full of
exercise equipment. We gaped up at him, our mouths stuffed with
kleenex, me quite unable to free myself from my handcuffs but my aunt
standing submissively with her hands clutching her arms behind her. He
patted both of us on our bellies.
“You’ll both be full of sperm by morning,” John said. “Nigger
sperm.” My aunt and I both stared at his enormous cock. I wiggled my
hips. I wondered how I’d accept such a huge organ up between my legs.
My aunt’s eyelashes fluttered. She almost swooned, feeling his hand on
her belly and standing bare and naked before him. We were both
collared, our necks tightly bound, our legs invitingly open. Our bosoms
hung off our chests with nipples so stiff we could barely stand it. I
wanted him to bite me and eat me and make me his little slave forever.
His white slave, forced to do his bidding, forced to obey his wickedest
fantasies.
Suddenly I dropped to my knees. It was impulsive. There was
no thought, just a sudden desperate need to try to take his cock in my
mouth. My aunt, seeing me kneel, squatted down beside me. With
difficulty we both spat out our wads of kleenex. Then, wild eyed and
wanton, we groped at his big black cock with our mouths. My aunt, who
wasn’t handcuffed and could have grabbed him with his hands, instead
competed fair and square with me, keeping her hands behind herself and
using just her mouth. With our lips and tongues we battled each other.
Both of us wanted to catch and contain him. I licked at the flange of
his penis. She got her lips round his pee hole and sucked it.
“Yes,” John said. “Suck me hard, slave girls. Make me cum in
your mouths.” I felt his big, hard thighs tremble. His penis throbbed.
“I want him!” I blurted to my aunt.
“Noooo,” she told me, and manged to get John’s big, pulsing
cockhead to penetrate her mouth.
“Oooooh! I want some TOO!” I gasped. I licked heartily at the
rest of him, his big straining shaft. But she had the head in her mouth
and it was she who, a moment later, received the first jets of his
sperm.
“Mmmmm! Hmmmm! Ummmm! It’s too much!” my aunt cried
suddenly. Her arms flew out from behind herself, where she’d been
holding them. She pulled John’s spurting cockhead from between her
lips. It was like a big fire hose, squirting out loads of white spume.
“I’m thoisty!” I cried. I struggled, stretching my neck, to
get some of John’s lusty sperm for myself. My aunt’s mouth was
overflowing with it, yet she was greedy. She couldn’t take all he had
to give, yet she didn’t want to give him to me.
Somehow I managed to get my small mouth around the end of
John’s dick. My eyes gaped as, suddenly, his sperm-shooting penis
filled up my mouth to the bursting point. I tried to hang on. But just
as he’d proven too much for my aunt, he was too much for me. I gasped
out my relief as my aunt managed to pull his cock from my mouth and
place it back in her own.
“Ooooh! I almost drowned!” I said frankly. John laughed.
“Suck, bitch!” he ordered my aunt. She drew him more deeply
into her sperm-filled mouth. She sucked and swallowed with as much
expertness as she could manage. I watched. I was learning. John’s
sperm dribbled hotly over my lips and down my chin, down my neck. I was
glad I still had my bib on.
The sperm welling up in my aunt’s mouth overcame her ability to
swallow and exploded from her lips. She gasped. John continued to
spurt as his cum ran down my aunt’s throat. It decorated her lovely
white bosoms with white, fast-running rivulets. At last his spurting
subsided. She gave a small cough. He drew himself back from her and
she tried to speak. A spermy “thank you” came from her lips.
“Mmmm, you taste wonderful!” I said. I was overwhelmed with my
passion and even though he tasted a bit too salty I complimented him
anyway. I smacked my lips.
“Get up, both of you,” John said. “We are only beginning.”
“Well, I see my husband is enjoying himself,” Pauline said.
Rebecca and I, standing up awkwardly, sperm dripping wantonly from our
mouths, gazed over toward the stairs. She was there! We both blushed,
looking at her. But there was a smile on her lips, for she held both
Steve and my boyfriend Brad by their erect penises. I gasped at how
hard Brad had already become again. But he was young. The environment
was stimulating in the extreme. I saw wetness on Pauline’s lips and
guessed she’d sucked him to make him stiff again, being rewarded by an
emission of pre-cum into her mouth.
“Oh, what are we going to do down here?” Chrissy asked. She
followed the men. There was ambivalence in her eyes. She was shy, now
that it was too late to do anything to obey. I felt like her but I also
felt frisky, as if I might do anything, needing only to be asked, or
told.
“This is my husband’s a my own private health club,” Pauline
said. “And, first off, we must take both men’s blood pressure, so they
don’t strain themselves when I command them to exercise. Come here,
lads,” she said. She let go of their penises. She walked over to a
blood pressure cuff. She picked it up. She took it over to my
boyfriend. I thought she would put it around my boyfriend’s big,
muscled arm. He watched the swing of her nude breasts. He was eager to
do whatever she wished. She returned his smile. Then, with a wicked
gleam in her eyes, she wrapped the blood pressure cuff around his thick
penis.
“What?” Brad asked.
“You’re big enough,” Pauline said. “Now I must inflate it,”
she said. She picked up a black rubber squeeze ball. She pumped it
with her small fist. Brad watched in amazement as the cuff inflated
around his penis.
“It’s cutting off the blood,” Brad gasped. I stared,
wide-eyed. John patted my fanny. With his other hand he gave my aunt a
push, on her bottom. She stepped up onto a treadmill.
“I want you to reach up and grasp that bar over your head,”
John told my aunt. I continued to watch as my boyfriend had his
blood-pressure taken, on his penis. Slowly the cuff around his cock
deflated. Pauline watched a glass dial and told my boyfriend his blood
pressure when the cuff had completely deflated.
“Is that good?” Brad asked.
“I think so,” Pauline said. “But I’m not real good at blood
pressures.” She giggled. “Your turn, Steve!” Randily he presented his
cock to her and she unwrapped the cuff from my boyfriend’s organ and put
it around his.
My aunt, meanwhile, was holding on to a cross beam above her
head while John fitted restraints around her wrists. If she let go of
the beam, I guessed the restraints would hold her, although I wondered
why, standing on a treadmill, she needed to have her hands bound above
her.
“It’s so she doesn’t run with her hands clutching her bottom,”
John told me. My aunt looked back over her shoulder at me. She waggled
her bottom.
“I told you this party was for adults,” she said to me.
“Quiet,” John said. “I’m going to put a rubber bit in your
mouth.”
“I won’t be able to say the code word,” my aunt said.
“I know,” John said.
My aunt said nothing in reply. In the distance Steve shouted
as the cuff, tightening around his penis, made him suddenly spurt on the
floor. It was his first orgasm.
“Make sure you clean that mess up,” John told his wife. “I
don’t want my exercise room stinking of white boys’ sperm.”
“Don’t worry, dear,” Pauline answered. She and Chrissy giggled
as they watched Steve spurt himself all over the floor. Steve blushed
but the girls assured him that it couldn’t be helped, that his dick had
been on a hair trigger from all the excitement and it was okay if he
needed a little relief. “You’ll have better control now that you’ve let
off a little steam,” Pauline assured him. “Right, Brad?”
“God, I hope so,” my boyfriend answered. His own cock stuck
out forthrightly. He’d survived the blood pressure test so I guess
Pauline was right about males needing to shoot some sperm out in order
to better control themselves.
“I’ll lick it up,” Chrissy said, looking down at her husband’s
sperm on the floor. She knelt and, with cat-like grace, began feeding
upon the pale puddle of fluid.
“Mmmm. Good girl,” Pauline complimented her. She put the
blood pressure cuff away.
My aunt opened her mouth and passively accepted the rubber bit
that John fitted between her lips. He laced it with cords to the back
of her neck. He drew out her mane of hair so that it hung freely down
her back, uninhibited by the lacings around her neck. She stood on her
toes, on the treadmill, clutching at the bar over her head. Her wrists
pulled at the restraints buckled around them. They were made of
leather.
“I’m going to turn on the treadmill,” John told my aunt. “You
will run, as fast as you’re able. I know you girls like to wear a bra
when you go jogging, to protect your bosoms, but today you will not have
any bra. Your breasts will bounce freely from your exertion.” He
touched each of her nipples, making them stiffen even more against the
press of his calloused finger. “And I have another treat for you,” John
said. “Have you ever needed to pee when you’re out jogging? Well, you
can’t expect me to stop the treadmill just so you can go use the potty.
I expect a good, hard run from you today. Not the usual sort of
half-assed run that I often see girls perform, at the health club I
sometimes go to on shore. You girls-- sometimes I think you only go to
a health club to pick up guys. Not today, Rebecca. Today you will
actually have a good, long jog. And so you can pee while you’re jogging
I’m going to insert a catheter up into your urethra. I’ll inflate a
ball when it’s reached up into your bladder, so it doesn’t fall out.”
“No!” my aunt cried. Her eyes swam wildly in her head. She
looked to me, to Pauline, for help, but I only stared, awe-struck my
John’s maliciousness. His wife laughed.
“It will be good to see her having a nice run,” Pauline said.
Chrissy, on her lips licking up her husband’s spilt sperm, said
something in agreement, but she was too busy licking to say it properly,
and I didn’t hear it.
Soon my aunt hung from the overhead bar with a greased catheter
threaded up between her long legs. The plastic tube hung down in front
of her, like some weird female substitute for a man’s dong, and it was
connected to an empty bag that waited for her pee to fill it. John
undid my handcuffs. He placed a whip in my hands. I stared at my aunt,
standing barefoot on the treadmill.
“Chloe, you’re going to whip you’re auntie’s bottom as she runs
on the treadmill,” John told me. “Do it hard. Don’t spare her. She’s
going to have a good long run today and she’s going to make her boobies
bounce all around for my pleasure and entertainment. And just so she
knows she’s been bad, by calling me a nigger, I’m going to film her
having her run. The boys at my all-black bar will enjoy seeing her this
friday night, when I show them sports flicks. She’ll make a nice
intermission.”
“You’re going to make a movie out of her?” I asked, my voice
quavering.
“Yes,” John said. “She may grow old in time, but she’ll be
forever 19 in the movie I’ll make of her. Young and boldly running,
trying to escape the whip you’re going to lash across her behind.”
“You’re evil,” I told him.
“I’m starting the treadmill now,” he said. John walked to the
front of the machine. He leaned over it. My aunt, her hands cuffed
over her head, watched with fearful eyes as John selected a running
course for her. Then he asked her how much she weighed. My aunt
mumbled a response through the bit. “Hmmm,” John said. “I forgot about
the gag. I guess I’ll just have to figure your weight myself. He
glanced back at me, standing behind her, holding the whip. “Chloe, do
you know how much your aunt weighs?”
“Um, 257 pounds,” I said. Then I broke into giggles. “Minus
her butt, of course. But if you add in her butt, then it’s more like
457.” I looked at him, still laughing delightedly, and added, with a
glance down at his penis, “Nigger.”
John refused my invitation. Perhaps I wanted him to chase me
around the room. Perhaps I hoped he’d attack me, and I’d be
sufficiently dexterous with the whip, slashing at his cock, that I could
actually keep him at bay. But instead of neglecting my aunt and coming
after me, he simply figured my aunt’s weight himself.
“You’re pretty skinny,” he said to my aunt. “Look! I can see
every one of your ribs sticking out. And you have a small little butt.
Nice and round, though. And you have long, slim legs. But you have
big, bouncy bosoms. Hmmmm. And a lovely mane of long hair. Okay,
there,” he said. He punched in some numbers. Then he pressed the
‘start’ button.
“I’m sorry I called you a nigger,” I said to John, meekly.
“You’re still going on the treadmill next,” he said impassively
to me. A shiver raced up my spine.
“Me?” I cried.
The treadmill began moving and my aunt began walking on it.
Then it went faster. She had to begin jogging. Her large, succulent
breasts, their nipples stiff and high, began bouncing rhythmically on
her chest.
“That’s it,” John said to her. He gazed at her with warm eyes,
like a trainer guiding a pupil. His penis began to stiffen. He glanced
back at me. “Use the whip,” he said. “But only on her bottom.”
“I-I don’t know if I can control it. I’ve never done this
before,” I said. Awkwardly I dangled the whip in front of me. I gave
it a slight flick and it sailed out away from me. It made just the
slightest nipping contact with my aunt’s behind. She gasped audibly.
She jerked in her steps. Her lovely white bottom cheeks, looking like a
rabbit’s tail in contrast to her tanned back and thighs, contracted
visibly.
“Mmmm, lovely. Isn’t she jumpy, though?” Pauline asked,
sauntering over to us. She dropped a handful of creams and lotions on
the floor next to the treadmill. “You’ll both need these for your
bottoms after my husband is finished giving you your run,” she said to
me. I looked down at the creams and clapped a hand over the back of my
ass.
“Ooooh! I don’t want my bottom to hurt!” I said in a jittery
voice.
Pauline kissed my cheek. “It’s lovely, don’t you think?
Sometimes we invite a couple down here, not telling them of our plans,
and we say, ‘C’mon, let’s work out.’ And since they didn’t bring any
work out clothes we all strip down to our underpants and bikini panties
and bras. And then the men start working out, sweating and groaning,
and all the girls playing on the equipment and watching them, and pretty
soon someone, perhaps my husband, says, ‘Why not work out in the nude?
The ancient Greeks did.’ And so a girl boldly takes off her top. Or a
man, feeling contsticted by his underpants with females adoring his
every movement, peels down his shorts. And the next thing you know
we’ve got a ball-busting, cherry-popping party going on down here!”
“Yes, very good,” I said, listening to her only distractedly.
I was still palming the back of my ass and looking worriedly at the
creams waiting for me on the floor. Waiting for my butt to be flogged!
“Last week, we had a minister and his wife over,” Pauline
said. “He was big and strong and she was quite a beauty, but they’re
not the sort of people who necessarily know how to party, you know what
I mean?” Pauline asked me. “And you can’t even really say, ‘Do you want
to cum sit in our sauna?’ because everyone knows you have to basically
get naked to do that. The same with the jacuzzi. It’s so warm and
comfy. They were both Calvinists. You know how they are. So we said,
well, you know, ‘Health! Isn’t health important? Let’s work out!’ So
we did, and that minister, once his collar was off, proved to have a
very healthy penis, let me tell you!”
“You’ll corrupt everybody on the whole planet,” I said to
Pauline. She kissed me again.
“It’s all in the wrist, dear,” she said. “Here, give me the
whip and I’ll show you.” She took it from me. I was grateful to get
rid of it. The long, black leather with its sharp tip scared me.
Pauline smiled at my aunt’s heinie as she ran on the treadmill. She
pulled the whip across her palm and studied my aunt’s bottom for a
moment. Its cheeks flexed in time to the thudding motion of her feet
upon the moving rubber track.
SWWWWIIIICK!
Pauline let the whip fly. It struck my aunt’s behind. She let
out a shrill mewling sound. She leapt up onto her toes as she continued
to dash forward. Her hands tried to yank themselves down from the
overhead bar but the cuffs held them. She could not protect herself.
Her bosoms bounced more frantically as she increased the speed of her
running, trying to escape the whip.
“Here. Now you try it,” Pauline said to me. Calmly she handed
the whip back to me. I took the big knouted handle in my small palms
and felt its weight. It was carved from ivory. It was black and highly
polished. It had been lewdly carved in the shape of a penis. I handled
it with trepidation. “Don’t be frightened of it,” Pauline told me.
“I am-- because it’s going to do me next!” I told her frankly.
Pauline smiled.
“Perhaps you can lessen the number of strokes you’ll receive,
by applying it correctly and forcefully to your aunt’s bottom,” Pauline
said. Her eyes twinkled mischievously, and I should have known her
suggestion was only a ruse, but I was 13 and naive. In addition to
that, a strange excitment was beginning to fill me. Imagine! Getting
to whip my aunt on her big bottom! Well, perhaps it was a decidedly
pert bottom, but it was the bottom of an older girl, and so bigger than
mine, so that qualified it as a big bottom, in my opinion. But if she
were worried about her bottom getting too big, all this exercise would
surely prevent that!
“I guess I would be helping her,” I said, feeling my nipples
lengthen and the space between my legs grow moist. I rose up on my
toes. My flat belly tautened, making my ribs stick out more. I lifted
my arm.
SWWWWAAAAAK!
I slashed the whip down across my aunt’s fanny. She shouted
within her gag and ran leapingly fast upon the treadmill. Her arms
yanked at her overhead bonds. Her head twisted back toward me. Her
long brown hair tumbled and streamed over her shoulders. John, standing
in front of her, laughed at the shaking of her bosoms.
“Very good,” Pauline told me. “Keep it up, make it hard, and
perhaps you’ll spare yourself any whipping at all. Don’t hit her
thighs. My husband doesn’t like that. Just go for the bottom. Sting
it nicely for her so she’s inspired to run at her very best.”
“Okay!” I said excitedly. I glanced again at the creams and
lotions laid out on the floor, and hoped only my aunt would need them.
I felt a wanton excitement at seeing my aunt’s bottom marked by a whip--
and me doing it!
“Remember always to strive for gracefulness in your whipping,”
Pauline told me. She tossed back her long black hair. She smiled.
“It’s not true punishment we’re seeking, but a kind of inspiration.
Push your aunt to a level of erotic excitement she’s never experienced
before. Let her feel her unfettered bosoms wobbling and bouncing around
on her chest. Let her enjoy the brazenness of her naked bottom,
suffering, but enticing men’s eyes as it suffers. Let her enjoy the
length of her long legs, freely running, giving their all, as she tries
to escape the whip, only to feel it again and again. Wait between
strokes so she can feel each one as its laid across her fanny. Don’t
give them rapidly. Make her anxious for each one. Make her sweat for
each one, urgently trying to tighten her bottom against the inevitable
sting. Then, when she’s in a panic from all the waiting, when she’s
absolutely desperate for it and can’t stand to wait anymore, knowing how
much it will hurt, then calmly let fly with another stroke. Slice into
her skin to make her howl.”
“Ooooh! I don’t want to make her bottom bleed!” I said.
Pauline laughed.
“Perhaps I was too expressive in my comments, hmmm?” she
asked. “My husband doesn’t often wish for that. No, dear, don’t make
her bleed. But don’t be a pansy either. She’s a big girl,
nineteen-years-old. She can take it. She has a lovely fatted bottom
and will appreicate you keeping it nice and trim for her. With a good
whipping every day, on my husband’s treadmill, she’ll be sure to keep
her figure for many years to cum.”
“I hope we don’t stay here that long,” I said. “I have to go
home at the end of the summer, so I can start eighth grade!”
“Quit talking back there,” John called out. “This isn’t the
Oprah Winfrey show.”
“Go ahead, hit her,” Pauline said to me. “And I’ll see that
your boyfriend keeps in shape.”
“Ooook! Don’t! He’s my boyfriend!” I said. I watched her
walk away. She moved with a salaciousness of her own bottom that caused
me to feel all tingly up between my legs, at the entrance to my womb.
Oh, if only I could be as lovely and sexy as her when I grew up! Brad
stood, watching as she strolled over to him, her big African bosoms
wobbling below her matchstick-frail shoulders. She had a model’s body,
small boned, but with long Tutsi-like legs, a slender waist, and a mane
of black European-style hair tumbling down her back. She was the best
of all races, summed up in one. A Gazelle-like poise, a supple figure,
with nourishing big bosoms that could suckle tribes of African herdsmen
out on the plains. She tossed back her hair again, loving the feel of
it as it swayed across her back. Brad, watching her, became visibly
excited. His penis lengthened and thickened. She knelt and took him
into her mouth and sucked him. I felt jealousy, but felt too as if I
was witnessing the very combination of flesh that had made Pauline the
girl she was. Long ago, some Negress slave must have done the same,
taking into her mouth the cock of her white master, sucking him dry
between her lips.
“Don’t,” Brad said. He trembled. His hips flexed.
“I only wish to please you, sir,” Pauline replied, looking up
at him, speaking, with difficulty, over the big plum of his cockhead
which rested on her tongue. Brad put his hands to her cheeks and drew
her face back.
“Let me work out a little,” he said. He cast a guilty glance
at me. I turned away. I tossed back my own mane of blonde hair and let
my whip sing through the air. I pretended to ignore him. I pretended
to be too busy to see how hard she made him. I felt like hitting him on
his ass with my whip but instead I took out my jealousy on my aunt.
“Wa-hoooo!” my aunt sobbed as I let a particularly vicious cut
go singing into her fanny. I saw a bright red streak mark her bottom
where I’d hit her.
“Yes,” I thought. “That’s what you get for making my boyfriend
get his cock sucked by Pauline.”
Brad, meanwhile, hoping to retain his seed for a little while,
walked over to a bench press. His hobby was weightlifting and he seemed
genuinely interested in having a short workout on Pauline and John’s
nice equipment. He sat down on the bench press and lay back. He
scooted his head under the big barbell. Steve, his own cock beginning
to recover, walked up to the bench press. He looked down at Brad.
“How much weight do you want on this barbell?” Steve asked.
“Put 150 pounds on it,” Brad said. I sensed a cockiness in his
voice. He’d walked away from Pauline, but his male need to show off was
still with him. His penis, between his hairy thighs, stuck up like the
Washington Monument. There was a casualness to the way he lay on the
bench, his legs apart, his big balls resting on the end of the bench,
that was due to years of working out. I wondered if he knew how
deliciously his loins were presented to us by his posture on the bench.
I gazed at him. He looked so... virile. There was no other word for
it. Steve, his own cock growing harder by the second, hefted several
big iron Olympic plates onto each end of the barbell.
“Let me spot you,” Pauline said, dancing up to the bench
press. Brad grunted that he would allow it, and she bent over him. Her
big heavy red-nippled breasts hung down over his face.
“Aughgh!” Brad said, about to exert himself in lifting the
barbell. I think the closeness of her bosoms unnerved him. A moment
later he had even greater cause to moan-- Pauline snapped a pair of
handcuffs over each of his wrists and looped the chain connecting the
cuffs over the barbell’s bar.
Brad looked up at the steel bar, laden with weights, that
straddled his face. For a moment he just stared. Then, still desiring
to show off, he lifted the bar anyway, and began bench pressing it. How
strange it was, to see him bench pressing a bar that he was handcuffed
to! With each repitition, the bar became heavier for him. As he neared
the end of his set Chrissy suddenly appeared at his feet. She had iron
manacles in her hands. With an approving smile from Pauline, she knelt
down and fastened first one of Brad’s ankles, then the other, to the
legs of the bench press.
I gasped. My boyfriend was a captive! He struggled to
complete his set, shocked at his predicament. Steve, in fact, was the
one who ‘spotted’ him, helping him replace the bar back on the two
support posts that held it safely over his head.
“Now it’s time for our work out!” Chrissy cried. She fetched a
jar of lubricant from a nearby table and took great gobs of it with her
small fingers and spread it over Brad’s penis.
“Hey!” Brad shouted. He looked down at himself.
“My, such a nice, stiff tongue you have, sir,” Pauline
laughed. She placed her hands on his sweaty, heaving chest. She sat
down, right on his face. Brad let out a cry of surprise. At the same
time Chrissy finished lubing his erection and settled herself on it.
Steve, watching, looked somewhat disconsolate at seeing his wife slide
with a satisfied groan down my boyfriend’s long penis. She wriggled,
adjusting his length in herself. She bit her lip.
“Ah, God he’s wonderful... once you get- ugh, oooh! Used to
how big he is,” Chrissy told Pauline.
“He has a big tongue, too!” Pauline said cheerfully to
Chrissy. “Yeek! He’s sticking it up me! Oh! I didn’t know it was
*that* long!”
“Mmmmm,” Chrissy sighed. A pained expression crossed her face
and then she began bouncing upon my boyfriend. “Look, honey, I’m
fucking another man,” she told her husband.
“I can see that,” Steve said. There was an angry look on his
face. But, at the same time, he became completely stiff. He put his
fist to his penis and began pulling on it.
“Ooooh, he’s trying to impregnate me with his tongue,” Pauline
told Chrissy.
“He is impregnating me. I can feel him right up against the
back of my womb!” Chrissy replied.
“Lucky girl,” Pauline said.
“It hurts a little,” Chrissy advised her.
“I can’t wait,” Pauline said. Both girls now began humping my
boyfriend. With a jealous look on my face, I gave my aunt another
smarting blow of the whip. She shrieked. John laughed. His penis
became large and hard as he watched the erotic scene unfolding before
him. It was, I thought, rather like being in a medieval torture
chamber, except here the confessions of pain were mixed with those of
pleasure.
“Do you really want to get pregnant by each others’ husbands
and carry each others’ children?” Chrissy asked Pauline.
“Yes! It would be so rad,” Pauline answered. “Imagine! You
have my child, by my husband. And I have yours.”
“Then we shall,” Chrissy said. “Tomorrow, instead of taking
our pills, we won’t. And when it seems we’re ready, we’ll have a kind
of celebration.”
“Yes!” Pauline said. “We can dress up in sexy bridal gowns.
Gowns that, you know, don’t cover too much. Then after the ceremony
we’ll bed down and go for it.”
“Fine,” Chrissy said. “I can hardly wait!”
With that both women bounced heartily on my boyfriend,
practising on him so they’d be ready for the big event tomorrow. I gave
my aunt another slash across her behind. It looked like she’d get to
share Brad with me tomorrow, if the two women were mated off with the
two other men. Perhaps, though, she’d be drafted into being the
minister. Then I could marry Brad. I’d have him all to myself for the
rest of our stay here. That sounded like an excellent idea. I gave my
aunt another stinging bite of the whip. I shouted to her that I wanted
her to be a priest. Unfortunately, she was too pained in her bottom to
understand me. She simply ran faster, her hair streaming behind her and
her bottom beginning to look like a road map.
30
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