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From: Andrew Roller <roller666@earthlink.net>
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Subject: {ASSM} the last days of Chandra Levy (junior)
Date: Thu, 30 Aug 2001 17:10:04 -0400
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                                        Andrew Roller Presents

                                           DEATH AND TAXES

                         Or:  the last days of Chandra Levy (junior)

         Washington!  Our nation's capitol, author of the Communications
Decency Act as well as the Monica and Chandra scandals, plus many others
stretching back to Wayne Hays' car in the reflecting pool and Thomas
Jefferson, should perhaps author a Congressional Decency Act.  It has
been estimated that, based on our nation's figures for adultery,
approximately 20 percent of congressmen at any given time are having
affairs.  If, that is, they're like everyone else.  Add money, power,
good looks, and ambition, and the figures are quite likely higher.  And
as followers of Washington know, the sexual antics are not confined to
those 18 and over.  Perhaps a bit less legislation and a bit more
attention to their own personal doings might prevent tragedy in the
future.  But not likely, since the windbags could never confine their
blow hard ways to only their mouths, could they?

---

         "So what do you do for fun around here?" Wendy asked Nicole. 
The tall blonde woman looked down at the girl.  Ginger, beside her,
barely suppressed a giggle.
         "We have sex," Nicole wanted to answer.  But truth was a
dangerous virtue in Washington, and Wendy was under-age.  Nicole looked
at Ginger, who was still smirking, with a hand over her mouth.
         "We, um, have dinner parties," Nicole told Wendy.  The young
girl's eyes radiated innocence.  If she guessed the larger truth beyond
Nicole's admission, she didn't betray it.  Had she heard nothing?  No
whispers in the women's bathroom?  No veiled comments in the cloak
room?  Nicole exchanged glances with Ginger.  The brunette had managed
to calm herself.  Her hand slipped from her lips.  "We have dinner
parties," Nicole said again.  Then, with a conspiratorial smile at
Ginger, she added, "And if you'd like to come, you're welcome."
         In any circumstances the arrival of Wendy Sarbelle would have
provoked interest.  She was just 17, with a petite figure loaded with
charm.  Her face was oval-shaped, some called it elfin, with a pert nose
and large eyes that looked like twin moons.  They were blue as heaven. 
Fine long lashes adorned them and some time ago, Wendy, at first like
all teen girls enamored of makeup, had realized that in her case none
was needed.  Beneath her child's nose was her only concession to Revlon
and its like; her full red lips, which seemed forever puckered with
wonder as she took in the new sights of Washington, were painted with a
light shade of lipstick.
         Her body was pervert pin-up material.  A slender body, utterly
narrow along her ribs and where her belly lay, was overarched with
breasts that vied with grocery cantaloupes in size.  Her hips flared,
but gently, leaving no doubt that this was still a girl with room to
grow.  Her bottom was high and tight; viewed from behind and from the
waist on down, at a distance, one might have mistaken her for a girl of
12.  Her legs were long as gentle young stalks, delicate and quick of
motion.  As a new page she was forever tasked with running last-minute
messages down to the Senate floor.  Off she would go, racing down the
lengthy corridors, turning heads of men 50 and beyond with her childish
enthusiasm.
         Yet inquiries, which Nicole had discreetly made, came back
positive, in terms of prospective dinner party invitations.  Wendy had
"experience of the penis," as it was said in the frank way women talk
when they're alone.  She'd had at least one boyfriend back in Idaho but
he was now, of course, conveniently absent.  Which meant she no doubt
yearned for more "experiences" but was as yet unable to find them.
         That's where Nicole came in.  She was undoubtedly the prettiest
Washington office assistant the city had seen in a long time, in a city
that specialized in mixing men of power with the prettiest women.  She
had long blonde hair which she pinned up loosely; the strands which
forever fell before her eyes were prettily, delicately curled, as if
just released from being wrapped around some ardent man's prick.  Her
eyes were mischievous; they were as dark and wide and sexy as Wendy's
were blue.  And the contrast between the two women did not end there;
while Wendy's eyes were the color of the sky, her hair was jet-black,
mistress black, which perhaps made her all the more beguiling owing to
the innocence she showed.  Nicole, on the other hand, while having big
black eyes that seemed full of mirthful cunning, had pure white-blonde
hair, the kind one might expect to find on some Vestal Virgin.
         Nicole's body was car-stopping perfect.  Before her, looming
like traffic lights, her breasts seemed forever eager to pop from her
blouse, even when she covered them with a vest or jacket.  Her hips were
sweetly broad, inviting, it seemed, every man she passed to have her
bear their children.  Her legs were long and always on display; she
favored skirts that stopped well above the knee and fishnet stockings,
close-woven for official Washington, were her trademark.
         As for Ginger, Nicole's new best friend, she was slightly
shorter.  Her hair was brown and wavy; it came down to her shoulders
where, seemingly of a purpose, it stopped short so that Nicole's
greatest assets could be seen.  These were, of course, her tits.  If
Nicole's could stop traffic, Ginger's could cause a collision.  Huge
perfect gourds jutted below her sweet face.  They seemed destined to
make her topple forward; men were forever wanting to reach out to her,
it seemed, if not to save her from landing on her face then to save
those precious tits.  As large as Ginger's breasts were, her body was
just the opposite.  A delicate pair of shoulders separated her face from
her body and her two big assets; it seemed when she moved that her
slender back ought to snap in two.  Her hips were gentle; all her body
fat had gone into her chest.  Her legs were long and slender, her tits
had soaked up all the excess.
         Nicole's previous best friend, Alison, had been a hit at the
"dinner parties."  She'd not only introduced herself successfully to
half a dozen senators and twice as many representatives, she'd scored a
millionaire husband-to-be and moved to New York.  Now the parties were
set to roll on again as the fall season began; Ginger was Nicole's new
accomplice and, among those who discussed such things, there was much
speculation as to who, if anyone, would net little Wendy.
         "I think I would like to come," Wendy said in her high artless
voice to Nicole and Ginger, as the three women walked to lunch on a
September Tuesday.  There was only a month left before the new budget
year would begin.  After a month-long summer break it was high-tension
time in Congress as the battle lines were drawn for funding different
projects.
         "You'd enjoy it, I think," Nicole said to Wendy.  She traded
glances with Ginger.  The big-chested brunette's hand was again at her
mouth.  Ginger had green eyes, in contrast to Wendy's blue and Nicole's
black.  Together they might have made a naturalistic technicolor
picture; if Nicole could net Wendy then it would be her decision, and
hers alone, as to which men in Washington got to see that picture up
close.
         Every man Nicole knew would be panting at her to be chosen, as
if they weren't hot enough for her already.  Nicole licked her lips and
savored the spotlight she'd be in.
         At lunch, as the three women sat eating and talking, aware of
the men looking at them but speaking quietly enough to not be overheard,
Nicole began to ease Wendy into some idea of what to expect from a
party.
         "Ours are not quite the traditional kind," Nicole said to Wendy
when Ginger raised the subject.
         "They aren't?" Wendy asked.  She glowed with naivete; Nicole
squirmed and forced herself to go on.
         "No," Nicole said.  "Have you heard the word au natural?"
         "Aw," Wendy said, imitating Nicole by repeating the word's
first part; harking in her mind, it seemed, back to a foreign language
class.  "Natural?  Yes I think I have," Wendy said.
         "Do you know what it means?" Nicole asked.  She looked at
Ginger.  The brunette's hand leapt to her mouth again.  Wendy looked
inward, at no one in particular but more within herself, and thought a
moment.  A light frown knitted her forehead.
         "It means without," Wendy said.
         "Yes," Nicole said.  "But sometimes being without can mean to
be as well.  As in, to be in a state of nature.  One is not so much
without as with, but in a manner different from what one normally is."
         "It means to be naked!" Wendy suddenly enthused, lifting a
finger in delight with her knowledge.  This particular comment was
unfortunately spoken more loudly than Nicole or Ginger would have
wished.  More than a few well-dressed diners in the tony Washington
restaurant looked up from their meals.
         "Shhhh," Ginger hushed Wendy, with a single finger now pressed
to her lips.
         "It means to be bare, to be naked, to be with others in a
natural state," Nicole said to Wendy.  "That, my dear, is the essence of
the dinner parties that you said you'd like to come to, and you would be
welcome, I assure you.  If you don't speak to loudly of them and don't
mind being au natural."
         "Oh my!" Wendy said, a moment later, when Nicole's words sank
in.  A blush suffused her face.  Ginger was dying to look around and
behind herself.  How many people were watching them, now that Wendy had
spoken up with such childishness?  She could see by the look on Nicole's
face that she had not anticipated Wendy's bright announcement and
subsequent flush.  Nicole squirmed again, and said,
         "Perhaps we should speak of it another time."
         Of course, wishing to defer conversation on such a topic as
naked dining only piqued the interest of a teenager like Wendy.  Despite
the girl's conservative Idaho upbringing, as soon as the three women
were out of the restaurant Wendy was bubbling with questions.  How often
were the parties?  How many people came?  What happened, besides the au
natural part?
         "There are various requirements," Nicole said to Wendy in as
soft a voice as she could as the three women walked along the street
back to the Capitol building.  In the distance, a squeal of tires could
be heard.  Someone somewhere was testing his brakes as he caught sight
of Ginger's bosoms.  Or Nicole's, or little Wendy's.
         "What sort of requirements?" Wendy asked, all eyes and ears now
as they walked, her long legs hurrying to keep up with the taller and
faster-paced Nicole.
         "You would be under my care, exclusively," Nicole said to the
girl.  Somewhere another pair of tires squealed.  Another man had just
seen Washington's greatest horizontal monuments.  "But I must warn you I
would be somewhat demanding," Nicole told the girl.  There was no use in
being too coy with her.  The parties, despite their artful `au natural'
description, were well-known for heights of decadence.
         "Demanding?" Wendy asked, her lovely black hair flying.  Nicole
glanced down at the shorter female.
         "Virgins are not allowed," Nicole said to Wendy.  The girl from
Idaho blushed again, this time even more deeply than she had in the
restaurant.  "But that won't be a problem, will it, Wendy?" Nicole said.
         "N- No," Wendy answered, after a long pause.
         "I didn't think it would be," Nicole said.  She smiled at the
girl, then in a casual, offhand way, as one might have told Wendy to
bring in coffee, she said, "Of course there is more than one virgin
route.  You would be expected to offer up your others also."  To Wendy's
surprised look Nicole added, "If those are untested it will be all the
better."
         Wendy's hands reached round behind herself as they walked along
the sidewalk.  She touched the back of her skirt, which had a habit of
flipping up owing to the breezy weather and Wendy's short hemline that
she'd copied from Nicole.  But in this case Wendy wasn't worrying about
her panties showing.  
         "You mean they would wish to--?" Wendy asked, her face now the
color of the light that was stopping the traffic in the road.
         "Yes, and I would also," Nicole said to the girl.  "Between
friends at such parties there can be no privacy.  You must understand
that, Wendy, or it's pointless to invite you.  Ginger and I must not be
burdened with you.  If you can be a compliment to us, and to our
friends, you are most welcome.  But you must be ready for anything, for
anything will surely be done."
         "But, if I hesitate?" Wendy asked, still feeling her bottom and
not at all sure now if she wished to come.  They stopped walking, for
they had just missed the changing of the light which would have allowed
them to cross the street.
         "Uncertainty is always cherished," Nicole told her.
         The location of the party proved to be a townhouse in one of
Washington's wealthiest neighborhoods.  It was, as Nicole pointed out to
Wendy before giving her the address, a rented townhouse.  The goings-on
inside would be more quickly effaced from all but the participant's
memories in such transient quarters.  Ginger was assigned to bring
Wendy; Nicole had to arrive ahead of time to see that the caterers had
come and gone.  Everything was perfect, the food ready in the kitchen
and the dining table set.  The other rooms were ready too, for
after-dinner entertainment.
         Ginger rang the doorbell.  Nicole answered it and let the two
women in.  Immediately they were introduced to three gentlemen.  Wendy
was awed to find herself in the presence of one of Washington's top
senators; unknown to her he had a fetish for young girls.  Particularly,
as Wendy was soon to learn, for what they carried behind them and sat
upon.  The two other men, younger than the grey-haired Washington
eminence who was in his early 50's, were Washington lobbyists.  One
represented the oil industry and the other, who was already with his
eyes evidencing an interest in Ginger, was a scion of a wealthy Dairy
farmer.  He had some years ago finished college at American University
and taken up a personal interest in milk price supports.  Nicole made
introductions and then led the three men to a bedroom.  Within a king
size bed's covers were already turned down, showing white sheets.  On a
nightstand beside the bed a crystal vase held colored condoms arranged
in the shape of flowers.  Lubricants brimmed atop a dresser; KY jelly
vyed with mineral oil and vaseline.  Snaking out from underneath one of
the pillows at the bed's headboard a whip cord showed; its end was
knotted, sure to leave a vigorous mark with even the lightest swish. 
And then there were, quite incongruously, set up tall next to the bed
along the far well, three full-length lockers.  Each already had a lock
upon it.  Dangling from each lock was a little key, and hung from each
key was a slim leather neck strap.
         "If you gentlemen will prepare yourselves, dinner is ready,"
Nicole smiled to the three male guests as sweetly as if inviting them to
Sunday lunch.  Ginger gripped Wendy's hand, lest the girl make an
unannounced leap at the newly closed and locked front door.  "When you
have everything in the lockers, you'll find the keys easily put round
your necks," Nicole told the men.  "Then we'll be just in there," she
said, pointing down the hall, "Or soon to arrive, as soon as we
undress."
         The three men nodded.  They were quite unable to suppress the
grins that had spread across their faces, except for the oldest, who
looked as sober as he might have if he were about to vote against teen
pregnancy.  The two pairs of threesomes bid a brief farewell; pulling
Wendy by the hand, Ginger led her down the hall, Nicole following.
         "But--" Wendy said, all eyes and full of questions when the
three women had gained the privacy of a room equipped just like the one
they'd left the men in.
         "Shhhh," Ginger told Wendy.  "Get out of your things.  This is
an au natural party, as Nicole told you."  Nicole looked to Wendy.  The
girl, blinking, seemed unwilling to undo the buttons of her page girl
vest.  Then, the next moment, she started in on them, still gazing at
her companions with artless innocence.
         When Wendy was down to her stockings and high-heeled shoes, her
garters loosed from her stockings and hanging free, her hands about to
pull down her white school girl panties, Nicole stopped her.
         "It would be better, don't you think dear Ginger, if little
Wendy here were still partly dressed when we met the men?" the
ever-inventive Nicole asked her new best friend.
         "Yes," Ginger said, musing now as she unleashed her tits from a
black bra.  "And she should be punished when she is finally convinced to
get out of her clothes."
         "Punished?" wide-eyed Wendy asked, her blue eyes almost making
Nicole wet.
         "Yes, dear.  Pull down your bra and let's see the effect,"
Nicole said, herself now undressed but for her fishnet stockings.  And
her high black heels, which she intended to keep on at least through
dinner.  Nicole reached out and clasped the cups of Wendy's bra.  It was
a delicate white bra, cupping her young school girl titties.  Gently
Nicole eased it down; it was tight and finally she had to yank it;
Wendy's boobs sprang free.  "Oh my!  They are like sweet big apples!"
Nicole said.  And indeed they were, luscious giant-sized Washington
state apples, with pink tender nipples surmounting ivory-white cones. 
Wendy had been busy studying in August for her Washington internship. 
She had not gotten out much in the sun, just a little, tanning her belly
and thighs but leaving her breasts and bottom, which was yet to be
revealed, as snow-white as on the day of her birth.  And almost as
innocent, save for a few back-seat trysts with her boyfriend.
         "We will make you undress.  And punish you afterwards.  Just a
little, to amuse the men," Ginger suggested to Wendy.  Nicole nodded, if
not for the girl then for herself, for it sounded like a capital idea.
         "But--" Wendy bleated, but both women took her hands.
         "You should just follow along at first, and do as is
suggested," Nicole said to Wendy.  "Later you might take the lead a
little.  Which gentleman did you like best?"
         "Oh I never knew the senate minority leader would be here,"
Wendy gushed, still wide-eyed innocence even with her titties showing.
         "Actually he's the senate whip," Nicole said, and the pun,
unintended, was nonetheless caught by Ginger, whose hand flew to her
mouth and stopped a laugh.
         "Ooooh," Wendy said, corrected, scrunching her nose a little
and considering the matter as if preparing for a civics class.  "Well
whatever he is," Wendy said.  "He's quite handsome!"
         "I'm glad you like him," Nicole said.  She smiled at Ginger. 
It appeared they'd made a perfect match.  They would be well rewarded if
Mr. Jacobson could get himself up into Wendy's seat.  And Nicole had
just the spice to set the whole thing off, she realized now, still
holding Wendy's hand and admiring her boobs.  Nicole turned to Ginger
and asked her to go out ahead of them and greet the men.
         "Make sure they're comfortable, or as much as men with rampant
cocks can be," Nicole said to Ginger, provoking a guilty laugh from
Wendy.  Then Nicole bent close to Ginger and whispered in her ear.
         "Ooooh!" Ginger gasped, a moment later.
         "What?  What?" Wendy asked with eagerness.
         "You'll find out," Nicole told the girl.  Ginger laughed and
then went out.  Nicole left Wendy standing with her bra pulled down to
show her tits, the horizontal strap of it binding her just below her
boobs, lifting them and supporting them a little even as it left her
high tits bare.  She went to a closet in the bedroom and opened it and
rummaged around in it.  She pulled a hat box down from the closet's
upper shelf.  Out of it she pulled a military cap which she placed upon
her head.  It was a perfect fit, for she had ordered the things in the
townhouse in advance so that all would be ready for their party.
         "Are you joining the military?" Wendy asked, seeing Nicole in
her fishnets and new hat, an unlikely general in all but the wars of
eros.
         "For just a little while.  To train you," Nicole told the
girl.  Wendy blushed.  
         "Let me see what else I can find," Nicole said, turning again,
after checking herself in a full-length mirror that hung from the closet
door, and again rummaging through the closet's contents.  She had not
placed the items herself; close-mouthed delivery personnel from a local
shop had done that.  A moment later she found two long black gloves. 
She pulled them on.  They covered her arms to above the elbows.  "Come
and tie these on my arms for me," Nicole bade her young charge.  Wendy
walked over to the woman in her high white heels, wobbling on them a
little as she went owing to her newfound nervousness in such
surroundings.  The gloves had laces on them, which hung down from above
Nicole's elbows.  Carefully Wendy tied the laces onto Nicole's upper
arms.  "Thank you," Nicole told Wendy.  "I'll be gentler on your bottom
because of your consideration."
         "Oooohh, don't scare me like that," Wendy said.  Nicole walked
over to the bed, checking the fit of her military cap as she went by
pulling on its broad black visor which stuck out over her eyes.  She
reached down and tugged on the whip cord, which, identical to the one in
the other bedroom, lay half-hidden under the pillow.  Wendy's eyes grew
even larger than they already were when Nicole yanked out the whip.
         "This is for your bottom," Nicole said to Wendy.  "Tonight it
is, anyway."  Wendy blanched and drew back; Nicole advanced on her, her
large breasts seemingly wiggling with a predatory bounce.  "On another
night it will be surely used on some other girl's bottom and, if it has
been used before, it was no doubt a girl like yourself who felt it, or a
woman like me," Nicole smiled, adding the last bit with a memory
seemingly flitting briefly before her eyes.  "Who knows, I may feel it
also but you surely will, and I expect no true complaints when the time
comes, no absolute resistance."  Nicole bent and kissed Wendy's cheek,
as the girl stared up at her wondrously, aware with open-mouthed wonder,
like some frightened goldfish, of the whip dangling in her hand.  "Turn
around.  Your head, silly," Nicole corrected, reaching out and stopping
the girl from turning bodily.  "Look at your bottom.  See it in the
mirror?"  She pointed to Wendy's ass, fresh as a newgrown pumpkin in the
closet door that faced them.  "See how high and tight it is, how white a
target and inviting?  No man could resist belaying that a little, and if
I can confess for myself, I like it too.  By morning it will be almost
as pretty, or prettier, depending on one's tastes.  For then it will be
a strong shade of red, with little ribboned strips of crimson.  You will
sit at dinner but tomorrow you will be thankful its a weekend, for
sitting in the office would be quite impossible.  But you must not think
that you will have suffered a loss.  No, no, you will have gained, my
dear.  In experience, and in testing the limits of what you are able to
bear.  Expanding them a little, I hope, or else all is a waste here
tonight, for you must be a bit adventuresome to advance as I wish you to
in Washington."  Nicole bent and kissed Wendy's hair, for the girl's
face was now turned away from her as she contemplated her naked arse.
         "Will- will it hurt?" Wendy asked, sizing up her bottom now
with her hands, gazing above her split peach at the whip Nicole was
holding.
         "Yes, dear.  It is meant to," Nicole said gently.
         "Oh I hope it does not hurt too much!" Wendy, who had already
resolved to appreciate whatever Nicole introduced her to tonight, said
with girlish hesitancy.
         "No more than you can bear, if you're willing to endure,"
Nicole told her.  She kissed Wendy again, bringing her face round now
with a hand on the girl's chin, so that she could kiss her mouth. 
Wendy's eyes flew wide at the touch of Nicole's lips on her own.  She
had never kissed a woman before!  "It's all in good fun," Nicole assured
Wendy, when she let the girl go.
         "Al- Alright," Wendy said.
         "Wendy refused to take off her panties," Ginger told the three
gentlemen present when Nicole and Wendy had joined them in the dining
room.  Nicole swished her whip.  Wendy looked from her two girlfriends
to the men and back again, her innocence quite evident.
         "Do you still refuse to take off your panties?" Nicole asked
Wendy.  Firmly the girl set her lip.  As instructed in the bedroom by
Nicole, she answered,
         "Yes."
         "Very well then.  Come to the table, young lady," Nicole said
to Wendy.  To Ginger, who was standing at the table, behind the chair
where Wendy would sit, she said, "Is her place ready?"
         "Yes, ma'am," Ginger answered.  Reaching the table, Wendy saw
her place was set, just like the others, china place settings under a
warm glow of table-set candles.  But unlike the other plates, which were
empty and waiting to have the food passed around, there was already
something on Wendy's plate.  It was black and short and stubby.  It
looked like a turd.
         "Wah- What's this?  What's this on my plate?" Wendy asked, as
Ginger drew out her chair for her to sit.  
         "Oh," Nicole said.  She reached past Wendy and picked the item
up.
         "I don't think that's something I could eat," Wendy, utterly
unprepared for this development, said frankly.  Nicole examined the
thing, seemingly for the first time but in fact knowing all along,
unlike Wendy, that it would be waiting.
         "You won't have to eat it, dear," Nicole said to Wendy.  "It's
for your bottom."
         "For my bott--" Wendy cried, as Ginger failed to suppress a
laugh.  The men chuckled.
         "So you don't have to go potty before dinner is finished and
we're excused," Nicole told the girl.  Sexily she put the end of the
butt plug to her lips.  She licked it, seemingly willing to eat it. 
Wendy, already blushing, grew a shade of red akin to apples.  "Take down
your panties, Wendy," Nicole ordered the girl.
         After much hesitation, Wendy complied.  Then, again at Nicole's
insistence, with the woman slapping her lightly across her cheek, Wendy
got down on her knees on the room's plush carpet.  Nicole knelt down
behind her.  
         "I'll take the front," Cindy said, and got down in front of
Wendy and held her by her shoulders.  There, in front of the three men,
who stood watching, Wendy's bottom was lubricated with mineral oil that
one of the men handed down to Nicole, he having brought it from the
men's bedroom at Cindy's suggestion.  When Wendy's ass was prepared, the
butt plug was wettened, this time with the oil instead of Nicole's
mouth.  Then, spreading Wendy's cheeks gently, her rear school girl
cheeks that were so high and tight, Nicole introduced the butt plug to
her anal ring.  It proved of a bothersome tightness.  Nicole had to
grunt, her boobs swaying, to finally get the plug up Wendy as the girl
shrieked repeatedly and tried to rise.  Cindy, heavy-titted and huffing
like a horse, held the young girl down.
         "There," Nicole said, when the procedure was finished.  She
wiped her brow with the back of her hand.  She replaced a strand of
curling black hair that had fallen across her eyes.  Then, licking her
lips with satisfaction, she said, "Let's eat."
         Wendy ate with her breasts tossing to and fro, wiggling freely,
but in her bottom, on which she sat now quite uneasily, there was the
hard, black buttplug.  Whenever she moved she was conscious of it. 
Taking a bite, swallowing it, always aware that what she was putting
into her mouth must inevitably come out of her down there, and that the
thing in her there must be pulled free before she could relieve
herself.  Her companions ate with lusty eagerness, yet a kind of
disciplined casualness also.  Under the table Wendy knew the men were
rampant, particularly the younger two.  Her female friends ate with legs
apart, or sometimes rubbing together, contemplating, as Wendy did, what
must shortly be shoved up within them.  For Wendy there was also the
constant reminder of the whip, lying on the table now, next to her place
and Nicole's, who sat beside her.  Either of them might grab it but
Wendy knew that it was the taller woman who would inevitably take it and
wield it, as she said she would like to in the bedroom, and it was Wendy
who was destined to receive it.  On her bottom, which she was already
discomfited by but which she would find ever more so woeful when the
whip had been brandished repeatedly across it.  Conversationally, about
mid-meal, the senator said to Wendy,
         "You have a fine ass, my dear.  I look forward to seeing it hit
with the whip."  Wendy's eyes bulged in response.  The senator laughed
at her naivete.
         "Thank him for the compliment," Nicole told Wendy.
         "Th- thank you, sir," Wendy said, feeling butterflies rise in
her stomach.  She had felt queasy already several times already this
evening, especially when she blushed, as she was blushing now.  It took
an effort of will, and the memory of the pleasure she'd shared with her
boyfriend, to keep from becoming overexcited and possibly tossing her
meal.  "Thank you," Wendy said again.  She looked down at her dinner.
         "She is being so good," Nicole smiled at everyone.
         After the meal, before she was to be whipped, they removed the
butt plug from her ass and allowed her a sit on the toilet.  Then each
of them took a turn on the toilet, relieving themselves in whatever way
pleased them, and afterwards it was straight to the whipping chamber
that Nicole had prepared for them to play in.  The room was cold.  Wendy
walked daintily on tip-toe as she crossed the room's chilly floor.
         "What- what is this place?" Wendy asked, aghast and blushing
again, feeling the butterflies rise in her tummy once more.  She saw
hooks and chains, strange contraptions, pillars of wood and noses of
rope.
         "It is designed for a young girl to be introduced to pain, as
you will be my dear," Nicole answered Wendy.  "Previous to tonight you
have only ever used your bottom to sit upon.  Now you will learn of its
many other uses; its erotic uses.  You have already had the acquaintance
of the butt plug, which we left sitting on the floor by the toilet,"
Nicole said.
         "Yes, good riddance!" Wendy said, reaching back and feeling her
hiney.  It felt much better now that she didn't have that hard rubber up
in it anymore.
         "But there is so much more," Nicole said.

30

----------------------- Dreamgirls! -----------------------
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     http://www.aclu.org
-- Naughty Naked Dreamgirls (Library of Congress ISSN: 1070-1427)
     is copyright 2001 by Andrew Roller.  Dreamgirls, Naughty Naked
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     All rights reserved.
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-- 
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