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Subject: {ASSM} a gift of pain, chapter one
Date: Sun, 9 Sep 2001 20:10:02 -0400
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Executive summary: A young girl learns an important lesson in
child safety when she meets a 46-year-old man. Unfortunately, she
learns it a little late!
Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
A GIFT OF PAIN
Chapter One
He was much older than she and her friends teased her about it
sometimes but she didn't seem to mind. She liked his oldness, or
whatever one wanted to call it. Her mother had warned her about
strangers and now here she was, dating one. It was of course quite
illegal; he was 46 and she was 16. She had met him bagging groceries.
It had been her first day on the job at Ralph's. She had taken his
groceries out, liking the way he walked, she coming a little behind him
so she could see him. She wondered who he was married to, what his kids
were like, if any of them were her own age. Of course, they would have
to be, wouldn't they? she told herself. Then she had found out that he
wasn't married. Currently, anyway. She didn't know too much about his
past life. She decided she didn't want to. She preferred to think she
was his first love, though he was obviously quite experienced.
She was a little bit experienced. She had tried having a
boyfriend. He'd taken her cherry but not given much in return. Then he
turned out to be a jerk, going with her best girlfriend behind her
back. And the thing was, she was much prettier than her girlfriend, she
was sure of it. She had serious tits whereas her girlfriend was still
growing, still needing more. And didn't boys turn their heads and look
at her when she walked, and men too? Even men who were obviously
married?
"You must not keep this job," he said to her when she had
loaded his groceries into his car. It was a sports car, a black
Ferrari.
"But I just got it!" Lindsey said to the man, blinking at him.
"Perhaps if it were a waitress job or a barmistress job, but
not bagging groceries," the man said to her. "It is too masculine. It
will ruin your pretty slim arms from the heavy lifting. The next thing
you know you'll cut your long hair, because it gets in your eyes when
you work," he said to her. And it was true, she had blonde hair down
past her waist and even now it was in her eyes, and she was having to
sweep it back as he spoke to her, and earlier she had thought, `why
don't I cut this? I'm not a little girl anymore!'
And then he had asked her for a date. Just like that, in the
parking lot, with perhaps anyone hearing, and noticing that he was old
enough to be her father. She resisted; but her eyes told him she might
say yes, if he asked again. And so the next day, even though he'd
bought lots of groceries the previous day, he was back at Ralph's, and
it was not by coincidence that she wound up taking out his cartful of
groceries for him.
"For a single guy you sure eat a lot," Lindsey said to the man,
whose name was Thomas.
"Only when there is a pretty bagger girl to carry my things
out," Thomas answered.
"But you didn't know if I'd be the one!" Lindsey said. Thomas
smiled.
"Yes I did," he told her. "Your eyes told me yesterday that
you'd be the one."
And so they dated, and when he saw that she had broken one of
her long fingernails bagging he insisted again that she quit. So she
did, and he gave her an allowance to compensate for it.
"This is quite without strings attached," Thomas said to the
girl, handing her $1000. "I'd give you more but then I'd be buying you,
and I don't want to buy you."
"I don't need more," Lindsey gasped, seeing the amount. She
could buy quite a few new CD's with it, not to mention a few clothes to
wow Thomas with.
"We are just dating as long as you like me," Thomas said to
Lindsey. "This is in lieu of your bagging job. If you get another job,
a less strenuous job, and want me to stop paying you, I will. But you
don't have to date me to get it." He pointed to two boys walking on the
other side of the street. "There. Don't you think they're handsome?
Go over and talk to them if you wish. They're looking at you." One of
the boys whistled, making his interest obvious.
"No," Lindsey said.
"Go ahead. Wander into that flower shop there and I'll bet
they manage to take an interest in flowers, despite their football
jerseys," Thomas told her. He smiled at her. "They probably think I'm
your father."
"No, I want to be with you," Lindsey said. To emphasize the
point she grabbed his coat. He was wearing a business suit, not a
grime-smeared football jersey like the two boys were.
"Well, if you find someone you like better I'll keep you on the
payroll," Thomas said to her. "It is to keep your pretty self from
doing bagger work." She looked up at him with her wide blue eyes.
"But you don't want me to work, do you?" she said to him. He
nodded.
"You are too young to work," he told her.
And so their dating went on, pleasant dinner dates at
restaurants she'd assumed she wouldn't eat in until well into her
college years, not even then, for naturally she would go away to college
so she wouldn't be around here any more. San Francisco was a nice place
but not if you grew up in it. You wanted to get away, go to New York
perhaps, or maybe Los Angeles, although as a San Franciscan she had a
bias against Los Angeles.
One night, when they had dated for a month, he surprised her.
"I should like to see you punished," he said to her, while they
were kissing and she thought he might make love to her. Her big eyes
fluttered open and grew large.
"Punished?" she asked. He was vigorous for 46 and she liked
the way he loved her but here was a new thought, a transgressive
thought, more transgressive than their affair, which though illegal had
been quite conventional up to now.
"Yes," he said. He kissed her again, hard, on the lips, his
hand finding her breast under her unclipped bra and squeezing it, to the
point of causing her pain. He silenced her cry in the back seat of his
Ferrari with his mouth upon hers.
"It excites you to say that," she said, feeling him hard
against her, down where it counted most.
"Yes," he said again, in the voice of one making a confession.
He lifted his hand and stroked her hair, her long blonde hair, sweeping
it up out of her eyes where a mass of it had fallen during their
kissing, brushing it back to expose her bare white skin, her broad
forehead above her widely spaced eyes. Her huge eyes, blue in the
silver moonlight. "It would not be in vain," he said. "There would be
witnesses, six of them. Men and women who enjoy viewing such things, as
I do."
"My God!" she said, for this aspect of him astonished her. She
had heard vague little rumors of such things, living in a big city like
San Francisco she was bound to. But she had not known anyone who
expressed such an open interest in such affairs. It was frightening;
the man was holding her by her right breast, his breath in her mouth,
his hardness urgent up between her legs, only her white cotton girls'
underwear keeping him out of her.
"I do not mean to scare you," he said. He kissed her again.
To her surprise she responded, ardently. After a little while he said
to her, "I should like to see it happen tonight, if you are willing."
"Tonight?" she gasped.
"Yes. There is a place I can take you, a bar in town where
such people gather. They will not be expecting anything, of course. It
is only Tuesday. But if I present you and make invitations, they will
respond. They will not need much encouragement. You are young and very
pretty," he said. He kissed her again. His hardness seemed like iron
inbetween her legs where she now closed her thighs against him, her soft
thighs, and began rubbing him as hard as he was kissing her.
"Don't do that," he gasped after a moment. Was she torturing
him? His penis? She giggled to herself. Men were so tough on the
outside but if you knew where to find their weak spot they could be made
to gasp like children.
"I will stop only if you promise not to punish me," she said.
He drew back and looked at her. Taking his hand off her breast he held
her by her slender shoulders. Her blouse was pulled down and his hands
gripped her bare flesh.
"And if I don't?" he said. She wiggled and he gasped again,
looking at her there in the moonlight, his hardness caught between her
soft bare legs, and pressed up against her underpants, right where her
legs joined. "We will wait until Friday, then. To give you time to
think about it," he said at last, when she threatened to make him spill
onto the seat of his Ferrari.
"You must not have me if you're going to punish me," she said.
She pulled a little away from him. He ached to follow her. There were
only inches between them but it seemed like miles. He frowned. He
gripped her shoulders more fiercely.
"I am going to punish you," he said. "I am going to have a
professional do it so that the pain is utterly regulated and exquisite."
"My God!" she said again, for this new amplification of his
frightened her even more than the original proposal. When he had petted
her some more and they had begun kissing again, and then eventually
stopped, he told her: "I will have a woman assist you, to make it
easier for you."
"If you insist," she said, head bent low now, letting him grope
her all over but not allowing him to take down her panties and fuck her,
despite his throbbing hardness which he urged, at one point, for her to
take in her little hand, her creamy soft hand which had no callouses
because she was not a bagger, or anything else, except his lover. "Do
you agree?" he asked her, finally, when she knew all the terms and
conditions, when they had been spelled out and she could no longer hide
in her innocence.
"I'm yours," she said simply, by which she felt she neither
agreed nor disagreed.
"Then it will happen Friday," he told her. "I'll pick you up
at eight o'clock in the evening."
"What shall I wear?" she asked him. He laughed. It was a
silly question, considering. But then he thought about it a moment and
decided she must look her best. "Go to the beauty parlor for your hair
in the afternoon, he told her. Or in the morning if you prefer. Don't
let them cut it," he added, stroking her long blonde hair through his
fingers. Just wash it and comb it and pamper it. Then, for the
clothing, wear something youthful. You are a child and it is rare to
see a child agreeing to such a thing, but that increases the pleasure of
it, one so young and innocent," he said. His breath caught in his
throat. She imagined if she reached down and took hold of his cock
again she could make him cum, right there in that instant, with just a
touch of her fingers. So she didn't reach for him. She wanted to keep
him hard and desperate.
"And then?" she asked, fingering his chest in the moonlight,
tracing the hard slabs inside his open shirt, pulling a little on his
curls of chest hair, which were slowly turning grey.
"Don't bring a purse," he said. Then he corrected himself and
said, "Bring your essentials, of course. What girls and women always
like to have, although much will be provided where we are going. But no
money. And no identification, either. Leave your fake I.D. at home.
Where we're going they have too much discretion to ask for I.D.,
especially from one so young and obviously under-age as yourself." He
gazed at her in the moonlight. "If it were not for the size of your
tits you would look 13," he told her. She pouted a little.
"I know," she said.
"Can you arrange to tell your parents that you'll be sleeping
over at a girlfriends' and might not be home the next morning?" he asked
her.
"Yes. Of course," she said. "My parents are going through a
divorce."
"I know," he said. "It's too bad."
"If they weren't I wouldn't be able to see you," she said.
"Then perhaps it's not too bad, but I don't want to say that
since they're you're parents," he said.
"Then don't say it," she replied.
And so they met on Friday night. He was in his usual business
suit and she was dressed casually, in wide-bottom jeans and a snug top.
It was a lace-up top, selected to intrigue him. Little ties
crisscrossed her substantial bosom, pulling the fabric close but leaving
the middle of her tits, where the line between her bosoms was, bare. A
bow that the ties made at the top of the criss-crossing was meant to
tease, and did. He tugged on it when he met her but didn't undo it;
they were standing in the middle of the street.
"Daddy, they'll wonder why you want to see my bosoms," she said
to him.
"Let them wonder," he answered lustily.
They went to a party in downtown San Francisco. It was held in
a townhouse. The real estate value of the place must have been
substantial, she thought to herself, for towering skyscrapers were only
a few blocks away. Outside, as if to ward off the noise and hubbub of
the city, a hedge grew, around a little lawn made of expensive japanese
grass. Lilies were in bloom. Their cups seemed to nod at Lindsey as
Thomas opened the front gate of the townhouse for her. It was a small
decorative gate. He bent over and undid the latch. She walked through
and he closed it. They went up to the door of the townhouse, but
someone saw them coming from the front window and opened the door for
them as they hit the low stoop in front of the door.
"Hi! Come in!" a bubbly voice offered. Thomas ushered Lindsey
inside with a push on her bottom. She was hesitant, after offering no
resistance when he picked her up or in the car. The person who said
hello tried to quell her concern by placing a drink in her hand.
Lindsey sipped it; it was a Bloody Mary. She had not had one before and
she wrinkled her nose a little at it.
"I think Lindsey would prefer a Coke," Thomas said to their
impromptu hostess, a brunette in her early 30's. The woman was dressed
to the nine's. She wore jewels, plus a fancy dress and a decorative fur
that was draped round the back of her neck, hanging protectively down
over her breasts. The woman laughed and went for a Coke. Lindsey
looked around. There were six people in all, including herself and
Thomas. As the brunette went for a Coke a blonde woman of about 35 came
over to Lindsey and said hello. Lindsey blushed and smiled; she did not
say anything. She was too frightened.
In a little while another couple showed up. It was a man and a
woman, making the total in the room eight; four men and four women. All
of them were spectacularly dressed, except for Lindsey, who wore her
jeans and her lace-up top, obviously the youngest, looking like one of
the partiers daughters. Everyone knew her purpose in coming. The women
smiled gently to her, urged her to drink alcohol if she wished, "as an
anesthetic," one woman said, cryptically, for Lindsey didn't know the
meaning of the word. Thomas did not explain it to her. Lindsey stuck
to Coke, plus a little water to wash down the canapes that were passed
around. Finally a woman showed up who was in her early 20's. She had
dark hair. It was lightly curled, it came to just below her shoulders.
Her body had a frail appearance to it; Lindsey was told that she was an
up and coming model, a supermodel if all worked out as she hoped it
would. The young woman blushed, was a little bashful. She was dressed
casually, in a skirt and boots and a very light sweater. It was obvious
that she had no bra on for her tits hung in her sweater like twin
papayas. As she was introduced to Lindsey her nipples came up; Lindsey
flushed, seeing it, and the model flushed too. Everyone else chuckled
lightly, two guests clinked glasses together as if in a toast.
With Trish, which was the model's name, was a rough-looking man
of indeterminate age. He was festooned with tattoos which he didn't
mind showing on his bare arms; he wore a t-shirt, which seemed to barely
contain his ox-like chest. Had Lindsey seen him anywhere else she would
have assumed he worked on the docks, perhaps he did, but tonight he was
in much tonier surroundings, and Lindsey, as she felt him gently take
her hand and shake it, introducing himself, began to get an inkling of
his purpose here. Her face went white. When he had told her his name,
which he said was Craig and which he added was entirely fictional,
Lindsey turned to her boyfriend.
"Shhhh!" Thomas said, putting a finger to Lindsey's lips before
the girl could speak. Gradually she regained her color and her
composure. More drinks were poured, Coke for Lindsey, but she did not
take any more sips from her glass.
"I think we are ready, Thomas," the blonde who was 35 said to
Lindsey's boyfriend after Craig and Trish had been given time to settle
in.
"Alright," Thomas said. Lindsey saw that the brunette who had
greeted them had begun having a man arrange chairs in a semi-circle. He
was one of the guests, a well-built man in a suit and tie. Another man
joined in to help him and soon all the chairs were arranged, the guests
going to take their places.
"If you will please come with me, Lindsey," Thomas said to his
lover with a kind of strange formality. He took her hand. He walked
her into the center of the room. It was an elegantly decorated room;
flowers stood here and there in vases, perhaps cut from outside or
ordered from a shop. In one corner a baby grand stood in polished
grandeur. A beige colored piano stool sat in front of it, the music
arranged on the piano was Mozart, as someone had pointed out in
conversation. "You will undress yourself for the whipping, Lindsey,"
Thomas said to his lover. She blinked and looked at him. Everyone else
in the room except Trish and Craig were sumptuously attired, was she to
take off her simple jeans and top? Thomas touched the bow to her top
but did not pull it. Then he lifted Lindsey's hand and put her fingers
there. Gently she pulled, looking into his eyes.
It was strange, undressing in front of so many well-dressed
people. Lindsey felt like she was undressing for a bath or a shower,
the real purpose was too frightening to consider, there before that
roomful of staring eyes, Craig and Trish standing in one corner while
the other guests sat, Thomas standing in front of her like some wicked
schoolmaster. Lindsey undid her top and pulled it off. She was slow to
bring the thing up off her head, seemingly wanting to hide in the
uplifted top that hid her face. Trish stepped up to her from behind and
urged her top the rest of the way. Lindsey stood before the group in
her frilled bra. Trish, standing behind her, folded her top and put it
behind Craig on a dresser top. It was made of polished wood. Lindsey
looked over at it and saw something lying on the wood next to her top.
It was long, something was hanging off the end of this slender thing,
and Lindsey saw that it was knotted at the tip.
"Oh my!" Lindsey gasped. It was the first time in her life
she'd seen a whip, except when she was a little girl and saw one in a
horse stable, where she briefly took riding lessons. There it lay, the
knotted tip unmoving now, but sure to be swinging hotly soon.
"Take off your bra, Lindsey," one of the women said who was
sitting in the crowd. It was the blonde who was 35. Lindsey barely
knew the woman's name. Was it Joanna? Lindsey couldn't remember.
"Face our guests and undo your bra, Lindsey," Thomas told his
lover. The girl bowed her head. Then she turned toward the guests.
When some of her blonde hair fell over her eyes she did not sweep it
away. She did not want to. Reaching back, standing a little on tip toe
as she did so, she unhooked her bra. It was a frilly white bra and as
Lindsey released the clasp it lost its battle to contain her tits. They
sprang against the material, juddering up and almost out of the cups.
Lindsey slowly brought her hands forward, sweeping down her bra straps
off her shoulders as she went. Her titties sprang free. They were nice
and big, with pink nipples. Lindsey's tit points were already hard from
the excitement of what she was doing.
"That's good," Trish said. She stepped forward and took
Lindsey's bra from her. Trish's nipples were points in her sweater.
"Now your jeans and panties, please, Lindsey," Trish said, and looked
briefly to Thomas for approval. The man nodded.
"Show your face," someone said in the crowd, almost snarling
it. Lindsey drew in her breath. She lifted her head, against her
better judgement, she thought. She shook her blonde hair back out of
her eyes, exposing their wide blueness. She could not bring herself to
look at those looking at her. Instead she looked a little up, then
reached for her low-riding jeans and made them lower riding, unbuttoning
the little buttons that ran down the front of them. She pulled them
apart and eased them down her bare legs. Her tits hung like twin
perfect gourds as she lowered her jeans, exposing her white cotton
panties.
"She is perfect!" a man gasped.
"She will not be perfect for long," the brunette who was in her
early 30's laughed. Lindsey got her jeans down to her ankles. She was
still wearing her sneakers and she bent to untie them. They were new
sneakers. Thomas had bought them for her. She pulled them free of her
feet, then her socks, Trish stepping forward to balance her so she
wouldn't fall over with her jeans binding her ankles. Then Lindsey
pulled her pants off. She was left naked except for her panties. Her
tits stuck out ripely. Her lover came forward and, without saying a
word, tied a slender rope collar around her neck. When he had finished
making a bow at the back of her neck, he kissed her lightly on the cheek
and said,
"This will be replaced with leather after you pass your
ordeal."
Trish turned Lindsey slightly, so that she was looking toward
the dresser. Lindsey saw the whip again and gasped. The crowd knew
what she saw but they were admiring something else; the swell of her
pantied white bottom, still encased in her pretty panties which LIndsey
was soon doomed to lose. Trish stroked Lindsey's right breast.
"Do you agree to the pain which will be inflicted, Lindsey?"
Trish asked the girl. Lindsey said nothing, standing there in the
almost all-together in front of the spectators with their jewels and
furs and fine suits.
"Say yes," Thomas said, coming up behind Lindsey and gently
taking her with both hands on either side of her waist.
"Yes," Lindsey breathed, barely audibly, fluttering her
eyelashes a little as she said it, her head lowering so she would not
have to look at the whip on the dresser.
"Now take off your panties, Lindsey. And look at the crowd as
you do it," Trish told the girl. Thomas let go of Lindsey and stepped
back. Released, the girl turned. With her eyes still lowered, she put
her fingers to the waistband of her panties.
"No! Lindsey, look up at the crowd," Trish said. Trembling
with the shock of how she was spoken to, Lindsey looked up. With her
face staring anxiously, she began lowering her panties. Down they went,
a little at first, showing a bit of her blonde bush, then a little more,
Lindsey gasping when a bit of material that had caught in her crotch
broke free from her. Lindsey's tits hung udder like, as if ripe and
ready for milking, as she pushed her panties down past her knees. Then
they were at her ankles, and she stepped out of them, as neatly and with
as much daintiness as she could muster, standing there in front of all
those watching eyes. Trish took her panties from her. She put them
with her other clothes on the dresser next to the whip.
"We will go now into the torture room, Lindsey, where you will
find out what happens to a young girl who chooses to be punished for her
lover," Trish said to the girl, in as quiet and gentle a voice as she
could have possibly used, lightly taking Lindsey's right hand in her own
as if to reassure her.
"Will- will I be hurt?" Linsey asked impulsively, her blue eyes
as wide as Thomas had ever seen them.
"You will be broken in for your lover's pleasure," the brunette
said from the crowd, the woman named Joanna who spoke now in a rough
voice, seemingly uncaring, though it remained a feminine voice. The
crowd rose, seemingly as one. Lindsey stepped back, surprised, but
Thomas was behind her, suddenly, and when she turned, quickly, to meet
his eyes with her own he frowned, that she should be obedient. Hands
and fingers came to Lindsey, touched her naked body, and not just in the
modest places either. Lindsey jerked as a finger sought inbetween her
bottom cheeks, while others caressed her ass like one might apprise the
flanks of a newborn calf.
"Very nice," was murmured, by various people, male and female.
Lips met Lindsey's. They were Trish's. With one hand cupping Lindsey's
naked right breast, someone else's hand on her left, touching and
teasing her left nipple, Trish kissed Lindsey. Hands patted Lindsey's
slender belly, with its gentle ever-so-subtle swell, a finger dipping
into her navel as yet another tried again between her cheeks, making her
jerk again. When Lindsey had been felt all over and kissed by all the
women present, quite against her will and to her complete surprise, she
was turned, and ushered into another room.
It was made entirely of wood, from the paneling to the floor.
It appeared to be sound-proofed for the noise of conversation seemed
muffled inside it. Craig, who had managed to place a hand on Lindsey's
soft white bottom, carried the whip from the dresser. Her clothes were
not brought. She would not need them in here. Lindsey felt Craig's
calloused palm against her ass and shivered. She did not want her
bottom to end up like the man's palm, all rough and used. She gasped
when they began unveiling what was in the room, pulling furniture covers
off various apparatus. Hooks were exposed, and long hanging chains,
sharp blades and thick heavy bats, leaning against strange-looking
machines that seemed designed for no purpose Lindsey was aware of, with
holes in them and straps lying upon them.
"Oh! What is all this?" Lindsey asked in her nakedness, as the
room's contents were exposed to her. She felt her heart race; it was
already fast in her chest but now it beat faster, making her tits
quiver. She clasped her hands. She looked dumbly to Thomas and then to
Trish, then to Craig, turning her head to him, but he was holding the
whip, not to mention her bottom, and she looked quickly away from him.
"Here you will undergo your ordeal, Lindsey," Trish said to the
girl, still speaking to her in as soft a voice as she could muster, so
as not to scare her any more than she already was. She touched
Lindsey's bare shoulder and the girl jumped. "You must taste these
things, Lindsey," Trish told the girl. "Each one of them, with your
bare skin exposed to them so that you can feel the most extreme pain
possible. The men will have condoms on when they fuck you but otherwise
everything will be without intermediation, flesh directly on iron, or
steel, or wood, or leather. Especially the leather, the skin of the
bull, it must be given to you without protection, so that your flesh can
be imprinted with it."
"Oh, but I do not want to feel pain!" Lindsey cried. She
looked around at the others, who stared back at her. "I don't even like
going to the dentist," she said. There was laughter, a pair of easy
hands on Lindsey's bottom pushed her forward to a wooden post. They
pressed her against it. Lindsey's heavy young breasts were pressed to
the post and then separated by its girth. The points of her tits stuck
out on either side of the post. Her belly lay flat smack against it.
When she breathed her belly rubbed the post, as did the insides of her
breasts, where the post separated them from each other. The crowd
lifted Lindsey's arms as she repeated her complaint. Her hands were
clipped into iron shackles. She pulled at the shackles. They had
almost no give, they were implacable in holding her. Immediately she
was aware of something being inserted between her legs, and then tied to
the post. It was a little padded seat, she saw, shaped in a U. Except
the side of the U that was against the post was broad and flat. The
back end of the U, the part that jutted just outside Lindsey's bottom,
pressing in on her cheeks a little, was sharp and pointy, though still
covered in padding.
"Relax, Lindsey. Settle into the seat," someone, a male, urged
the girl. Lindsey obeyed. The seat was lifted up to hug the insides of
her thighs and accept her body weight. When she was properly seated in
the thing someone brought her a Coke and she sipped it, not protesting
as it was put to her lips and she was forced to drink from the glass.
"The two aspirin in that glass will hardly help," a woman
chuckled.
"Nonetheless it is a nice thought," someone else said.
Lindsey was allowed to catch her breath. Then, the seat was
pulled down and she was forced to bear her weight on her feet again, her
bare feet flat on the floor. Now a pillow was shoved between her belly
and the post. The result was to arch out Lindsey's behind. She felt
like a cow being prepared for slaughter as hands came to her arched
bottom and caressed the bare flesh. A strap was produced and passed
around the small of her back, tying her to the post by her waist. It
had the effect of holding the pillow against her belly and hips. When
she was thus prepared the little seat was lifted again, but now the
front of the U was shoved up under the strapped pillow. Craig did the
work. He knew what he was doing, having left just enough slack in the
strap to get the front of the U shaped seat up under the pillow. The
back of the U, nefariously, no longer pressed against the outside of
Lindsey's behind. It nosed its way up between her legs and pressed
directly against her slit.
"Oh my God!" Lindsey cried. As she felt the U touch her, she
felt its effect: a wave of pleasure passed unwanted through her body.
The little thing was devious in finding her just where she wanted least
to be found, in front of so many people.
"Now whip her, and whip her hard," someone told Craig. "The
seat will teach her to find happiness in it."
"No, please!" Lindsey cried. Tears sprang to her eyes. She
felt abject.
"She will need the gag," someone said. Lindsey saw Thomas nod,
out of the corner of her eye. She turned her head to him. Trish kissed
her and the next thing she knew, ever so gently at first and then with
some roughness when she resisted, a red rubber ball gag was pushed into
her mouth. She was forced to accept it, forced to hold her head still
while it was tied at the back of her head. Then her hair was pinned up,
so it would not block any part of her bottom, or her slim white back, or
fall in front of her eyes when they turned desperate, depriving the
crowd of their pleasure.
Lindsey felt alarmed and yet excited at the way they were
treating her. Nobody had laid a harsh hand on her, not really, and yet
there was the whip, dangling from Craig's fist, waiting to be used on
her. It would hurt, she had no doubts about that. It would probably
hurt quite badly. They had spoken of extreme pain. Oh, why had she
allowed this to happen to her? No schoolboy her own age, even the boys
with the dirt-smeared football jerseys, would have treated her this way!
"Hold still," Craig, standing behind Lindsey now, told her.
She tried to turn her head to implore him not to hit her and suddenly it
felt like a bee had landed on her bottom!
"Oooooh!" Lindsey cried. In her response, jerking her hips,
she felt the unwanted contact of the seat between her legs. It rubbed
her, or rather she rubbed it, and despite the pain in her bottom she
felt pleasure in her cunt.
There was a round of applause. Even Trish, who LIndsey could
see out of the corner of her eye when her mouth stopped screaming into
her gag, was clapping. The applause stopped and an interval obtained.
Lindsey thought she was going to wet herself waiting, pressed against
the post with her knees slightly bent, that infernal pointed seat thing
up between her legs, against her slit.
Then suddenly it came again, the pain greater this time, the
bee striking not once but twice, a double-slash. Lindsey screamed even
louder than before, but the gag caught it all, silenced it. Again she
felt herself wiggling unwillingly against the seat back. It made her
tremble with pleasure, even as her bottom throbbed.
"Are you enjoying yourself, dear?" Trish asked Lindsey, after
the whip had cut her bottom seven more times. Lindsey babbled into her
gag. Trish loosened the tie that held the gag and eased it forward.
"No!" Lindsey cried, as she gaped at the gag, all
spittle-covered, that Trish was holding just far enough out of her mouth
to let her speak a little. Then Lindsey, despite the fact that both her
bottom cheeks were flaming, could stand the seat back between her legs
no more. It had brought her so close; she had to finish herself! There
before the crowd, with Trish holding her gag a little from her mouth,
Lindsey worked herself suddenly, wilfully, on the seat back. She rode
its silent rounded point like a lusty cowgirl on a steer's forbidden
prong. She made herself come on it, and as she came she shoved herself
downward, bending her knees more, trying to get the rounded tip of it up
inside herself. She succeeded, a little, but it quickly became too wide
for her, no matter how hard she pressed herself down on it.
"Bravo!" Trish said, when Lindsey had finished. She kissed the
girl's cheek and threw the ball gag on the ground. "You have earned a
short break by your performance," Trish told Lindsey. "Would you like
some more Coke?"
"Yes!" Lindsey breathed, surprised at her obscene behavior.
She blinked as they undid her from the post. When her hands were free
they flew to her bottom. She could not stop rubbing it, despite the
pain, as her waist was freed from the post. When she turned around,
Craig was standing there. She was ordered to kiss him and she did,
standing on her tip toes, her hands still on her behind. She shivered
all over; she could not stop shivering as they brought her a Coke. She
drank it down, holding it with one hand, her other hand still palming
her flaming seat. When she was finished they brought her another Coke.
When she had downed that, her bare breasts quivering, she asked to use
the bathroom.
"No," came the answer, and Lindsey breathed with renewed shock
as she absorbed the firm voice that told it to her. It was the
brunette, Joanna. She looked at Thomas and he nodded.
"But- but I have to go! I'll wet myself!" Lindsey cried. She
wanted suddenly to put a hand to her pussy, but her hand on her bottom
refused to leave; her other hand was holding her Coke. Instead she
pressed her thighs together, childlike.
"Lindsey, you must never close your legs while you are here
with us," Thomas said gently to his lover. Abjectly Lindsey reopened
her legs, muttering,
"My God!"
"I want to whip you next, Lindsey. Will you allow me?" Trish
asked the girl. Lindsey blinked at her, this companion who had gagged
her but who still spoke softly to her, even now.
"No!" Lindsey said.
"That is not an acceptable answer, Lindsey," Joanna said.
"Turn and face the post, Lindsey," Trish said to the girl. She
took the Coke glass, which Lindsey had emptied, out of her hand. To
Lindsey's muted protests no regard was given; they quickly overpowered
what small resistance she gave and once more she found herself with arms
uplifted, the shackles holding her, the gag in her mouth and the
infernal seat back up between her legs. With her belly hard against the
pillow, it providing the only softness, she felt alarm and dismay. Then
suddenly the whip let fly, and as she screamed, and the seat back probed
her loins, she felt her bladder bounce inside her. It was full, and it
needed to be released.
After nine more cuts across her behind, harder than the nine
first delivered, LIndsey lost her bid to contain herself. Like some
captive animal, pushed to its limit, or a whore knowing no modesty, she
peed on the seat back. They had warned her, as they whipped her, what
the consequence of such a display would be, and Lindsey trembled, trying
to stop herself and unable to, as she wet all over the seat.
They untied her, but they did not take the gag out of her mouth
this time. Lindsey turned and stepped from the puddle she'd made on the
floor. They took her to a low stool. It was not suitable for sitting
on, under normal circumstances, for it had a tapering dildo sticking up
from its seat.
"You will seat yourself on this, at your discretion, Lindsey,
by which I mean not if you want to but at the speed at which you
desire," Trish told the quivering girl. Lindsey felt the wetness on the
insides of her thighs and on her feet, on the insides of her ankles,
where she'd spilled her bladder. It felt cold. She felt too the drying
juices that she'd released earlier, these had now taken on a chill too
against her skin. Her bottom, however, was broiling. She could barely
touch it as she stood there, contemplating what Trish was presenting to
her. She looked at Thomas. He gave his usual nod.
With the gag in her mouth Lindsey could not object. The dildo
was greased before her eyes, by the well-dressed women, and then she was
taken to it by Thomas and Craig. She turned, she offered her cunt
unwillingly to it.
"Not your cunt, Lindsey. Your bottom," Trish told the girl.
Lindsey's face turned white. She could not believe what she'd heard and
Trish repeated herself. With tears springing to her eyes, seeing she
had no choice in the matter, Lindsey presented her asscheeks to the
stool, to its upstanding dildo. Slowly, ever so slowly, she bent her
knees. She felt relieved that she had pissed now, for she could not
have borne such a thing up her behind with her bladder full. That she
had brought this on herself by peeing now escaped her, in her terror at
having to impale herself. Further her knees bent, most unwillingly, but
without anyone doing it but herself. The prong touched her bottom
cheeks. She jumped. There was laughter. She composed herself with her
hands on her face, forgetting her flaming bottom momentarily in her
terror. Then she was back at the stool, and this time when she felt the
dildo touch her she kept on going, easing it between her cheeks. "Reach
back and open yourself to it, Lindsey," Trish ordered. Lindsey obeyed.
She touched her bottom, flinched and nearly jolted upright at the
contact of her hands on her seat, then pressed further, keeping herself
open to what was going up into her parted hinds.
It touched her anus. Lindsey squeezed her eyes shut. After a
moment of waiting she pushed down on the well-greased pole. It seemed
to attack her bottom hole, her little anal ring. She was ungreased but
wet with her own excitement. The thing stretched her anus, slowly but
implacably.
"Good, good," Thomas said, and came forward and put his hands
on Lindsey's shoulders when the girl threatened to rise. Trish joined
him. Together they kissed each other as they forced Lindsey down.
"Ooooh! Oooooh!" Lindsey screamed into her gag. But there was
no stopping the penis, now that it had breached her anus. Into her
rectum it went, dirtying itself on the insides of her asshole, turning
its black nose brown. Deeper and deeper it penetrated. Lindsey tried
again to rise but Trish and Thomas, still kissing, insisted she take
more.
"Now up and down, Lindsey, fuck yourself on it," Trish said
when a suitable amount of the dildo, about half, had been forced up
inside Lindsey's guts. Lindsey looked up at the woman imploringly. How
could this lovely model be so decadent as to insist upon this? "You
must open yourself in behind so that your lover and the other men
present can fuck you there, Lindsey," Trish explained to the girl.
Lindsey wanted to truly jump up now, hearing that, but with Thomas and
Trish pressing down on her she could do nothing but obey, rising a
little when they allowed it and then screaming when they forced her down
again. "Do it fast enough so that your tits bounce, Lindsey," Trish
ordered the girl. Lindsey did not want to obey but Craig, taking the
whip, cut her behind, urging her to do exactly as she was told.
"Oooh! Oooh! Oooh!" Lindsey was soon screaming, in short
gasps, as with the hands on her shoulders she was moved up and down fast
enough to make a pretty waggling display with her breasts. They rose
and fell unhindered, as the women wearing jewels and furs watched her.
The men took their pricks out, unable to bear the sight any longer in a
zipped-up condition. They frigged themselves, or put themselves in
their lovers' hands, or in the hands of one not their lover, enjoying
the sight of Lindsey bouncing with her bottom up and down on the fake
prick, endangering her soft bottom-hole lining with her activity,
threatening at any moment to tear herself, much as she'd torn her hymen
when her high school boyfriend had taken her.
Finally, when tears were streaming down Lindsey's cheeks and
she seemed certain to injure herself, the men stepped forward. The
pleasure was too much to bear. Even Thomas, putting himself in Trish's
hand, succumbed. Together they shot their respective loads on
bent-legged Lindsey, aiming for her gagged mouth, or perhaps her
wide-open eyes, or not really caring where they hit, as long as they hit
someplace on her naked body. They did not go all at once but in turn,
gentlemen-fashion, each approaching Lindsey as one might approach a
urinal. As several had had a considerable amount to drink they used
this opportunity to relieve their bladders as well as their sperm sacs.
Lindsey nearly screamed her lungs out when she realized she was being
desecrated in this way. Craig insured she kept moving all the while up
and down on the cock; her tits bouncing and wiggling, her open legs
showing her pretty blonde muff. Craig was the last to go. His prick
was huge and Lindsey stopped screaming, to stare wide-eyed, at him as he
urged out his lust on her. With precision he hit first her left tit and
then her right, then her belly, ending there in a great splattering
whiteness, as if perhaps to hint that he might return one day to thrust
himself up in her, regardless of his size, and make her belly swell with
him. When he was done cumming he was not done; he offered her a spray
of urine as vigorous as any she'd received. Trish pulled the gag from
Lindsey's mouth and ordered the girl to drink. To Lindsey's horror she
obeyed, squatting down more on the dildo, which felt like it would split
her insides as she took it deeper than she'd ever taken it. She opened
her mouth. She received the golden tribute like some cow being covered
and fucked, though there was no contact between her and Craig now, still
she felt that somehow she was in a barn and some kind of milking was
going on, perhaps it was she, the cow, who was milking the steer, both
of his sperm and his pee, a buddy of his inopportunely taking her at the
same time by the rear.
"Ooooh, my bottom hurts!" Lindsey confessed, when at last they
let her up of the prong. She had not torn herself on it, but had come
close, she guessed. She never felt more opened up in her life.
"Your bottom's supposed to hurt," Trish said calmly to the
girl. She stroked her shoulder and her right tit as Lindsey gingerly
touched her seat. She squeezed the cheeks of her ass. She looked at
the dildo and could not believe that she had taken so much of that
thing. And in her bottom! It showed exactly how much of it she'd
taken, for there was a brown stain rubbed into it down to about a three
quarters of its length. "You did very well, for a first-timer," Trish
said to Lindsey. She kissed the girl lightly on the cheek.
"Is- Is there more?" Lindsey asked, wide-eyed and hurting.
Trish laughed.
"She wants more!" Trish said. There was a round of applause.
"I'm afraid you have to go back to the real world now," Trish said to
Lindsey. She untied the girl's hair, letting it fall free, down over
her shoulders and into her eyes. She lifted a hand and brushed it back
for her. "One never knows where these things will end," Trish said to
Lindsey, as the girl continued to flex her hurting bottom and rubbed her
cheeks, lightly, for the whip had made her skin quite sensitive there.
"Perhaps we will meet again, and then, if the men can hold themselves
back, you will get what was promised earlier. A through fucking, with
the leather straps and chains holding you down. And the cane, which you
have yet to feel, and which is much harsher." Trish turned. "There is
a shower in this room back here, follow me," she told the girl. She
took her hand. Behind her Lindsey could hear the men zipping themselves
up. One of the women produced some handi-wipes and tore them open and
passed them around so the women could clean their fingers. Lindsey was
offered a towel, outside a small bathroom. She took it and entered.
She was permitted to close the door behind her.
"Not too long," Thomas, standing a little back, warned her.
Trish went to him, smiled at Lindsey, and then kissed him.
In the bathroom there was a mirror. With much trepidation
Lindsey turned. She gasped in shock when she saw her bottom. Its white
cheeks were laced with red. Here and there little bumps and weals
showed where the whip's knotted tip had stung her. Three ridges showed,
evidence that some of the strokes had indeed been harder than the
others. Lindsey spent a long time tracing these marks of her ordeal
before getting into the shower. And she opened her bottom and bent
forward, showing herself to herself, seeing what the dildo had done to
her anus. Nothing visible, but she could still feel its presence
there. In the shower Lindsey had to be careful about letting the shower
spray hit her bottom. It brought back all the pain of the whip when it
did; her ass was very sensitive. When she got out of the shower, she
dried herself carefully. She found that the towel, applied quickly,
could be almost as much of an agony on her bottom as the shower had
been.
"Mmmmm. Let me see," Trish said, when Lindsey stepped out of
the bathroom, the towel modestly wrapped around her. Without receiving
permission Trish lifted the back of Lindsey's towel up. Lindsey
jerked. Trish touched one of the little ridges stretching across her
bare bottom. "You've had a good whipping," Trish complimented the
girl. "Thomas has invited me back to his apartment with you. You're in
for a treat. I'm an expert at treating wounds."
And so she proved to be, urging Lindsey to stretch out naked on
a towel on Thomas' bed, stroking warm and cool creams into Lindsey's
bottom. When she had finished with the girl's seat she gently anointed
her well-tested asshole. Then, wiping her hands on a soft wet cloth,
she bent forward and whispered into Lindsey's ear.
"The pleasure doesn't have to stop," Trish said to Lindsey.
She touched the girl up between her legs, not in her bottom cheeks but
farther forward, upon her slit.
"Ooooh!" Lindsey cried.
"Let me pleasure you til you're ready to scream and then let's
see how much more your bottom can take," Lindsey suggested. "Thomas has
dildos. Perhaps he has not told you about them but he has told me. I
can get them."
"Ooooh! No!" Lindsey gasped. But Thomas appeared and together
with Trish they used straps, made of leather, to tie her down to the
white-sheeted bed. Trish left the towel under the girl for a bottom
entry would no doubt be somewhat messy. When she had thoroughly aroused
the girl she went to Thomas' dresser and got out a dildo. It was narrow
at the nose but grew to a thickness greater than that which Lindsey had
experienced on the stool. Slowly, no longer allowing Lindsey to control
the depth herself, as she had on the stool, Trish introduced the object
into Lindsey's behind. When she had pushed it to an extent which
threatened to split the girl, Lindsey groaning and tugging hard on her
bonds, Trish drew it back a little. Then she fucked her, hard and fast,
not caring if she tore her. Luckily for Lindsey she survived intact.
When she was well-speared, the thing deep in her, Thomas knelt in front
of her and gave her his re-awakened penis. Afterwards, with Lindsey
still tied, Thomas made love to Trish on the bed right beside the girl.
To let her know her lowly status between the three of them, or to tease
her that she might be so lowly, they left the dildo inserted in her
behind while they made love. It stuck up like a kind of thick flagless
pole, a tribute to Lindsey's feminine endurance. And in her own quiet
way, despite the humiliation of the thing, Lindsey felt a kind of pride.
30
----------------------- Dreamgirls! -----------------------
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-- Naughty Naked Dreamgirls (Library of Congress ISSN: 1070-1427)
is copyright 2001 by Andrew Roller. Dreamgirls, Naughty Naked
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