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From: Andrew Roller <roller666@earthlink.net>
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Subject: {ASSM} virgin's last hours 7, 8
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- NND ------------------------------------------------ lollipop -
Visit my FTP site:  http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Roller/  <--click
Click, or put the address into your browser.  All my stories are there.
---------------------------------------------------------------


                  An Introduction to the Works of Andrew Roller
                                         by Andrew Roller


         My friend Ian Shires used to publish hand-written diatribes
about his works, which consisted of line drawings in a minicomic
format.  He would then send out these missives, uninvited, to people in
the "small press network", a collection of amateur publishers spread out
across America and Canada.  So this essay is somewhat in the style of
that, a mostly self-congratulatory survey of what I have written. 
Naturally, if you don't know what I've written, you can't read it, and I
can't get rich and famous and travel the world on your money.  (All of
my works are currently available for free.  I'm still working on how to
charge you for them.)
         At one time I published Comic Update, a review of the latest in
homemade comics, but since the maximum number of subscribers I ever had
was four (and usually two), I'll leave Update, which is currently
moldering in a cardboard box in my apartment, unsurveyed.  Also
unmentioned will be my Chester series of comics, which was about a boy
in elementary school.  These were even less fortunate than Update,
having been seen by no one but myself, and then only once, as I was
drawing them.  (Worse, they were only ever sketched lightly in pencil,
so they don't even exist in publishable form, assuming anyone ever would
want to look at them.)
         My first publishing success was Naughty Naked Dreamgirls.  This
came out during the second term of Ronald Reagan, when the likes of Ed
Meese, Dick Thornburg, and the Moral Majority held sway as far as the
eye could see.  Fortunately for me those folks were busy trying to ban
Playboy, so something like Naughty Naked Dreamgirls, run off on a xerox
machine and sold for a dollar through the mail, never showed up on their
radar screen.  I did get kicked out of Kinko's copies for publishing it,
and visited by the F.B.I. (they thought I was going to blow up a comic
book convention), but other than that I had no trouble selling it.  I
never made any money, of course, the cost of my computer, laser printer,
time, gas, xeroxing, staples, postage, etc. more than ate up any profit,
but I at least had the feeling I was doing something meaningful.  Hugh
Hefner had beautiful girls in the Playboy mansion, and I had piles of
uncollated self-written porn.
         Naughty Naked Dreamgirls is intended to be a "catch-all"
title.  Each book in the series features a different female
protagonist.  The protagonists started out being 18, but as America got
more paranoid about so-called "kiddie porn" the girls in my stories got
younger.  Today they average about 13 or 12.  Funny how artists always
do what the society most desires them not to, isn't it?  I guess that's
our role, to keep a society in balance by not letting it get too extreme
in one direction or the other.  If pumpkins were declared illegal
tomorrow, I'd probably start writing about them.
         The point of Naughty Naked Dreamgirls is sex!  Yes, believe it
or not, sex is actually more important than America's usual
preoccupation, which seems to be telling people what to do and
imprisoning them or killing them if they don't obey.  I have always felt
that everyone is "sexy", pretty much irregardless of their age, and
whether or not they are actually having intercourse.  So you will not
find any of the current taboos in the publishing world here in my
stories.  The female protagonist can be whatever age seems best suited
to the story.
         What is Naughty Naked Dreamgirls?  It is a vast sexual
adventure.  The girl usually starts out as a virgin, or nearly so, and
proceeds to have sex in every possible way I can think up.  The nice
thing about Naughty Naked Dreamgirls is that, unlike police or murder
mysteries, or horror stories, nobody is ever really harmed or in
danger.  While the elites of the "child protection" movement might be
horrified, the girls in my stories are always pretty much going along
with whatever is happening, albeit from a fetchingly naive point of
view.
         In addition to Naughty Naked Dreamgirls, I also have written
some Science Fiction stories.  These are rougher.  In Amazonia, the
story begins with a boy smashing his girlfriend's head into the
windshield of his truck.  Not exactly the perfect date, but it unleashes
a whole new world.
         More recently, I have started my Lollipop series of stories. 
These concern the adventures of girls younger than Naughty Naked
Dreamgirls age, mostly around age eight to eleven.  Once again you will
find none of the taboos that such a story would have to observe to, say,
be sold in Waldenbooks.  In Lollipop, three little girls don't simply
wind up at the end of time, they also have a relationship with a
35-year-old man.
         Then there are my essays.  These appear in Naughty Naked
Dreamgirls (the Internet zine), Fuck Decency (another zine), and "rare"
(miscellaneous material).  You will not find the points I make in my
essays in Time, U.S. News, or (God forbid) Newsweek.  If you find
yourself at odds with the propaganda churned out by the major media,
perhaps you will find solace in knowing that you're not alone.
         Finally, there is my friend holy joe.  He lives in porta potty
at a construction site, or sometimes in a dumpster.  He also appears
here, and if ever you read anything that you feel is an arrestable
offense, I can assure you that it wasn't me who wrote it, it was holy
joe.  Fortunately I can never remember whether I wrote something or joe
wrote it, so feel free to blame him for anything you don't like, and
feel free to praise me for anything you do like.  Or, to put it another
way, make any checks payable to "Andrew Roller" and make out any arrest
warrants in the name of "holy joe".

30

           FREE Damien!  http://www.wm3.org/html/damien.html


                                        Andrew Roller Presents
                                   NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
                                                       in 
                                         A Virgin's Last Hours

                                              Chapter Seven

         Sylvie had never been eaten out before and there was a certain
delicious quality to it, despite the fact that it was not her tongue
that was doing the tasting, but rather the tongue of the girl who knelt
before her, worshipping her little slit as if it were something being
offered by a Goddess.  Sylvie swooned as she felt the tongue.  It
tickled her, it invaded her.  When Miss Brookhaven slashed the ass of
the girl eating Sylvie, using the butler's belt, the girl's tongue
jabbed desperately up into Sylvie, as if to make her pay for what the
girl was suffering.  This increased Sylvie's delight even more, though
she felt terribly guilty about it.
         Then, at Miss Brookhaven's command, the butler was tasked with
fucking both girls who were eating Sylvie and her aunt.  Sylvie watched
as the butler put his cock to the girl kneeling before her.  It was an
eye-poppingly big cock.  The butler did not content himself with fucking
the girl in her well-presented slit but rather, at their hostess'
urging, went for her bottom instead.  As the young man's cock urged
upward into the girl's clenching back hole, the girl retaliated by
stabbing herself more deeply into little Sylvie's cunt.  It was an
electric feeling, being on the receiving end of this double
penetration.  Sylvie could watch the act take place before her, beneath
her hanging body, and as it did she took her end of it, receiving the
tribute of the maiden's tongue as her suitor pushed himself hard into
her.  When the butler had given the young woman a good series of
strokes, Miss Brookhaven knelt down behind him and reached between his
legs.  She grabbed his testicles.  She yanked down hard on them, to
prevent, as best she could, him losing his load.  She urged him out of
the girl, leaving her bottom vacant and wanting.  She had him crawl
across to the other young woman, the one who was eating Alessandra.  He
parted the bottom cheeks of the second maid.  He stuck himself into her,
greedily penetrating her bottom, forcing a howl from her, as the first
girl, offering her bottom and her little hole, received nothing but the
stares of the women present.  How lewd it seemed for the girl kneeling
at Sylvie's feet, eating her cunt, to stick out her bare bottom, showing
her ass hole.  It was soiled and wet with the butler's pre-cum, eager to
be taken and finished.  Sylvie wished she could kneel behind the girl
and stick her tongue into that needy little hole, giving it what it
wanted.  The girl had seemed so pretty and shy, so feminine and polite
and perfect, when Sylvie first saw her.  Now she was reduced to an utter
whore, offering not only her ass but her opened ass hole, yet Sylvie
liked her all the more, so much so that she contemplated doing to her
what she would have found revolting just a little while ago.  For who
indeed would willingly choose, without the teasing provocation of love,
to stick their tongue up someone's soiled behind?  As it was, Sylvie
could not take herself down from the post and put her tongue to the
girl's pretty bottom.  So instead she offered her hips even more,
striving to capture and plumb the depths of her belly with the girl's
ardent tongue.  The room echoed to Sylvie's cries as she was pushed into
unbounded fields of bliss.  When at last she came to, shuddering from
her many uncountable orgasms, she had been unshackled from the post and
laid down in another room on a couch.  She was left there, her aunt on
another couch, while an orgy ensued in the parlor.  The six women
disrobed and went at each other like banshees.  The poor butler, having
already given himself to the girls eating Sylvie and Alessandra, was
ordered to do more, his cock put to heavy use until he begged to be
allowed to stop.  The two men who had fucked Sylvie and her aunt as they
were bound to the posts returned to the parlor, their strength
recovered.  They picked up where the butler left off, putting themselves
to the women, and being put to in turn, until they were dry as bones,
their cocks shriveled to the size of peanuts.  And then they left,
passing Sylvie and Alessandra as they went out.  There were smiles on
their faces.  They had come and spent themselves, they had given all of
themselves with complete commitment, and yet without any commitment at
all.  The other guests, the women and the butler, dressed and left as
well, each going their separate way.  Perhaps they would see each other
again or perhaps they would not, for the nature of the school, as Miss
Brookhaven explained later, was to allow those already initiated in its
ways to take their pleasure and then leave as if nothing had happened.
         "However for those new to the school, it is a different
matter," Miss Brookhaven said to Sylvie when the girl had been carried
upstairs and put in a bed.  She lay a big king-sized bed, her long hair
tousled, her cunt lips still aching from the fucking they'd received. 
The room was lavishly appointed.  Yet there could be no question of the
bedroom's purpose, for on top of the antique night table stood pots of
cream and vials of oil, a collection of condoms and a large black dildo.
         "Who was that man who carried me up?" Sylvie asked, her breath
gasping out, her eyelids fluttering as she remembered the clothed
gentleman who had so gallantly lifted her off the couch and brought her
up here.
         "He just arrived," Miss Brookhaven said, stroking Sylvie's
hair.  Her body was wrapped in a robe.  It smelled of sexual exertion. 
"You will meet him later," Miss Brookhaven smiled.  "But I must tell you
more about our purpose here," she said.  She put a finger to Sylvie's
lips and quieted her, for the girl was about to ask another question. 
"For you, unlike the guests, there must be complete obedience," Miss
Brookhaven said.  "Even the guests do as they're told, if I give them an
order, but they are permitted to come and go as they please.
         "You, my dear, are a pupil," Miss Brookhaven continued.  "As is
your aunt.  Our mission here, since you are both females, is complete
submission to the cock.  Whenever someone asks you why you are here, you
must give that answer:  to achieve complete submission to the cock.  Now
say it.  I want to hear you," Miss Brookhaven insisted.  Still trembling
from her many orgasms, Sylvie opened her lips.  She tried to speak but
her throat was suddenly dry.  So much had happened to her!  So much more
was promised!  Finally Sylvie managed to stammer,
         "T-To, achieve."
         "Yes?" Miss Brookhaven asked.
         "Submission," Sylvie went on.  Her big eyes blinked.  She
looked at Miss Brookhaven imploringly.  She did not want to say it. 
Miss Brookhaven slapped the girl's bare belly.  Sylvie flinched and
laughed.
         "You will learn to say it in time," Miss Brookhaven said. 
"When your virgin belly has been filled and refilled by randy men.  Did
you enjoy your first fuck?"
         "Yeth," Sylvie lisped.  It had been frightening and painful but
now the pain was much soothed, owing to the tongue of the young woman
who had worshipped her like some deliciously sacrificed animal.
         "Good," Miss Brookhaven said.  "You will be bathed and put to
sleep now.  Jan will attend to you.  I must see to your aunt, for she is
older and will need more."
         "More?" Sylvie asked, her blue bauble eyes blinking again, like
lanterns in a storm.
         "The man who brought you up.  He must be put to your aunt. 
Ignore her cries.  She is getting her due," Miss Brookhaven said.
         "Alright," Sylvie replied, feeling suddenly perfectly
submissive, wanting to obey.  Miss Brookhaven bent and kissed her
forehead.  Then she slapped her naked belly again, glorying in it
flatness and its seeming readiness to receive the male prong. 
"Remember.  Complete submission to the cock," Miss Brookhaven told the
girl.
         "Submission," Sylvie mouthed, but she did not have the courage
to say the word.
         Jan came into Sylvie's bedroom.  The girl's eyes fluttered wide
as she heard her aunt suddenly cry out.  A man's gruff voice was heard. 
Jan, ignoring the noise, smelling of the sweet copulations she'd enjoyed
downstairs, took Sylvie into the bathroom.  She, like Miss Brookhaven,
had tossed on a robe.  It was made of silk.  It had pretty patterns on
it, of roses.  She turned on the tap above the tub for Sylvie and made
the girl get in.  She washed Sylvie, then got her out again.  She dried
her with a big fluffy towel and brought her back into the bedroom. 
Someone had come and changed the sheets in the meantime.  Jan stood
Sylvie beside the bed and opened a drawer in the nightstand.  She took
out silver bracelets.  They were open, similar to the jaw-like shape of
open handcuffs.  She put one around each of Sylvie's wrists and, after
closing them, she locked them tight with a little key.  They seemed made
for Sylvie, as if someone had guessed the seventh-grader's wrist size
and brought them up and put them in the drawer just for her.  Sylvie
wondered who would go to such lengths to see that she wore these pretty
items.  Then, when she was told by Jan to get into the bed, she saw a
new addition to the room.  Chains hung above the bed, attached to the
wall by a screwed-in bracket.  Jan stood on the bed as Sylvie got under
the covers.  She hauled down the chain and hooked it into little rings
hanging from Sylvie's bracelets.  She used the key again, and when she
had turned it in each of Sylvie's wristlets the girl found herself bound
by the chain, though there was plenty of slack in it as it hung down
from the wall.
         "There.  Do not whack your pretty cheeks against the chain as
you sleep," Jan said to Sylvie.  She lay down beside the girl and kissed
her lips.  Sylvie blinked.  Jan got out of the bed and looked at the
pots of cream and the vials of oil on the nightstand.  Absently she
straightened them, as well as the pile of condoms.  Her fingers touched
the big black dildo but she left it lying where it was, a thing of
extreme uses, if one wished to make it so, for being forced up Sylvie's
bottom hole it would almost surely split her apart.
         "There will be another party later tonight," Jan said to
Sylvie.  "The guests are arriving already and as you can see, one of
them brought the pretty bracelets you're now wearing.  He is a man from
the city.  You do not know him but apparently he knows you.  He says he
has watched you playing video games at the parlor near your aunt's."
         "Oh!" Sylvie gasped.  Her heart seemed to miss a beat in her
chest.  She did not like the idea that someone had been spying on her,
especially a strange man.
         "He is quite fond of you," Jan went on, smiling as she looked
down at Sylvie lying in the big comfortable bed.  "Or rather I should
say he's fond of your ass," Jan said.  "He is a complete pervert.  I
will not make any amends for him... just the sort of man Miss Brookhaven
most enjoys finding to train her pupils.  I will not lie to you.  He is
going to come upstairs later tonight, with the others, to whip your
behind.  This is what turns him on most, seeing a young girl like
yourself forced to take a good hard beating.  It will hurt.  I do not
know if he will fuck you afterwards.  That may not be the point of it. 
There will be enough guests at the party for everyone to get what they
came for, from each other I mean.  You will be more the inspiration,
your pretty white ass and your gasping mouth, your tear-filled eyes." 
Jan paused.  Sylvie was looking very frightened and as she trembled
under the covers, clutching them and looking up at Jan, her body naked
and smelling wonderful from the exotic soaps Jan had used to bathe her,
she suddenly felt a need to pee.  She had gone earlier, of course, tied
to the post and again when Jan had led her to the bathroom, before and
after her bath, but now, feeling the need again, she crossed her legs,
feeling the way her bottom pressed bulgingly to the cool sheet
underneath her.  The tight-clenched position of her thighs made her cunt
feel snug and wonderful.  "Do you have any questions?" Jan asked
Sylvie.  The girl shook her head.  A strand of her blonde hair fell into
her eyes.  Jan reached down.  She brushed the strand away.  "Submission
to the cock includes not just the male prong but the many other
varieties of love as well," Jan said to Sylvie.  "You must accept them
all to graduate.  Be good, and you will do well and one day be a
guest."  
         Jan gave Sylvie another kiss on the lips.  Then she departed,
flipping out the bedroom's light as she went.  She closed the door after
her and locked it.  Sylvie was left lying in the dark, under the covers
of the bed with her eyes wide.  She wondered, as she pressed her thighs
together, if there was any way she could get to the bathroom.  Was she
to make a fool of herself, as she had done downstairs, puddling what was
under her to the amusement of the guests?  Why had she not spoken to Jan
about her need?  What was she to do, and how was she to do it?  Were
they really going to have a man come up and whip her?  She bit her lip,
feeling the urge in her to piss grow stronger.  Oh, she did not know how
to cope, what to think, not even what to feel!  She lay there trembling
for at least an hour and finally decided to try to get up and test the
chain's length.  She moved sideways under the covers.   She tried to get
to the edge of the bed.  Suddenly her wrists pulled at her.  The chain
was at full stretch.  She could not get out of bed!  She was trapped,
and her belly was achingly full of pee.  The bed and the room was so
beautiful.  She did not want to soil the sheets and embarrass herself,
especially if they were going to visit her with a whip!
         Another hour passed.  Sylvie pressed her thighs tighter.  She
felt tears well in her eyes.  She welcomed them.  Perhaps she could
relieve the pressure in her bladder by crying out her unneeded water.  
She wept, but it was no use.  Then suddenly she heard a key turn in the
door.  Relief flooded over her as a figure passed into the room.  It was
a male, he was followed by more, a half-dozen laughing guests.  The
bedroom light was switched on and Sylvie saw men and women, dressed in
party clothes, the men in coats and ties, the women in sequined gowns. 
Sylvie trembled, rabbit-like, as a man approached her.  He gazed at her
as if with recognition.  Sylvie blanched.  The man reached out and
yanked down her bedcovers, leaving her nakedly exposed, her slender
child's thighs tightly crossed, her hands flying up to her breasts, then
one of her hands leaving her breasts and rushing down to clamp itself to
her pussy.
         "Oh please, sir!" Sylvie gasped.  The man looked about 40.  He
seemed ordinary, one of countless accountants or brokers or traders who
flocked up and down the streets of New York on any business day.  He was
the sort of man Sylvie never noticed, neither handsome nor ugly, but he
had undoubtedly seen her before.
         "Would you please stand up," the man said to Sylvie.  He
reached for her chain and yanked on it, hauling her to her feet, Sylvie
unable to resist as the heavy chain was drawn tightly up and wrapped
around the screwed-in bracket set in the wall.  Sylvie was aware of her
hair flying, her legs opening and scrambling against the sheets as she
was forced up by her bracelet-bound wrists.  It was painful; for a
moment all of her weight was on her wrists, seemingly yanking them out
of her arms, before her legs went into action and planted her feet on
the bed.  When it was too late to matter the man reached for her elbow
and supported her by her elbow with his hand.  He turned her.  He made
her face the wall, her bottom sticking out at the guests who laughed at
her predicament.
         Sylvie crossed her legs again, standing with her breath hitting
the wall, her eyes blinking at it, the bed creaking gently under her.
         "Do not do that," a woman said.
         "Open your legs," the man who had drawn Sylvie to her feet
ordered.  
         "But sir--!"  Sylvie implored.  She stared at him dumbly,
terrified of him and the people who stood behind her, watching her
callously.  Sylvie thought the man would hit her but instead her stroked
her long hair, following it down her back to where it stopped just short
of her ass.  He tugged lightly on it, like a rider pulling with sweet
affection on the mane of a horse.  Sylvie felt her rump arching out
beneath the end of her hair and the man's hand.  She trembled, all her
movements uncontrollable now, her eyes blinking wide, her teeth
chattering, her elbows quivering.  Only her bladder retained itself, all
else was lost.
         With his hand still poised under her elbow, the one that was
closest to him, the man looked at Sylvie.
         "Do you have to go to the bathroom?" the man asked Sylvie. 
Despite the laughter that broke out in the guests behind her, upon
hearing the question, Sylvie sensed a tenderness in the man's voice. 
She nodded, suddenly hopeful that he would unbind her wrists and let her
go, perhaps not just to the toilet but out of this strange school house
altogether.  But the man's next words shocked her:
         "I will beat you harder if you do not open your legs," the man
said to Sylvie with absolute firmness.  "Your toilet needs are no
concern of mine.  I am here to punish you, and if you can't keep from
pissing in your bed as I do it then you will have to sleep in the
wetness afterwards, and furthermore I will hit you harder for being so
lewd.  Now open your legs, and do not ever close them again the whole
time you are here.  Go on," he said, looking down at Sylvie's crossed
thighs.  "Spread your feet.  Stick back your bottom more to show how
pretty you look between your legs.  Why do you cry?" he asked, as Sylvie
suddenly broke into new tears.  He reached up and brushed away a tear
that went tumbling down the right cheek of her face.  "Crying will not
save you," he said.  "Only by offering your ass and your cunt will you
spare yourself, and not even then more than a little for I have come to
see that your pretty white ass is made sore and red.  You will not be
able to sit tomorrow at breakfast.  You will have to stand in a corner,
showing everyone how a little brat who pees in her bed is punished for
it.  Are you ready to take what is to be given?" the man asked Sylvie. 
She shook her head `no'.
         "I haven't peed!" she cried.  Her look was abject and
desperate.  She opened her legs and stretched them wide.  The man gazed
at her with affection as she jutted her ass.
         "Do not expect to survive it," the man said, and turned from
her and opened a drawer in the night table.  He took out a riding crop. 
It was short but brutal-looking, with a corded shaft that tapered to a
tip from which hung a knotted bit of leather.  Sylvie gasped.  She
spread her legs wider, showing her pretty cunt to all who cared to look
by offering her behind even more fully, a look of utter fright in her
eyes.  "There is a facility in France that offers even greater privacy
than here at the school house," the man said to Sylvie.  He swung the
crop in the air, to and fro, watching the knotted end of it move like a
pendulum in a clock.  He waved the stick and made the knot jump;
Sylvie's behind jerked as she watched the tip bounce in the air.  "To be
completely submissive a girl must be trained entirely by men," the man
whom Sylvie did not know, but who held her against the wall, explained. 
"If I took you there you would have to travel as my daughter, of
course.  I do not expect you to agree to it but then perhaps your
agreement would not be necessary.  Your aunt's consent would suffice.  I
know people who could prepare the necessary documents.  Would you like
to go?" he asked Sylvie.  The blonde shook her head no.  But, watching
the stick in his hand, with its thick hard shaft and its jumpy tip, she
stretched her legs wider.  They were as wide apart as she could make
them now and she arched her belly forward, throwing her ass back at the
guests.  Someone requested a light and it was found; Sylvie felt the
heat of a spot lamp being directed against her behind.  It pried deep,
finding not only the inside of her bottom cleft and her rose hole, but
illuminating her cunt as well.  Sylvie's lightly-haired lips, eager to
release her pee, despite her tense disapproval, warmed under the light
of the lamp.  "Let us begin," the man said to Sylvie.  He let go of her
elbow.  He checked the chain's tautness to make sure Sylvie had no room
to move.  He stepped back.  He put a foot up on the bed.  He steadied
himself and drew back his arm.
         WHACK!  The crop struck Sylvie's bottom.  It bounced off her
round silken cheeks.  She shrieked; a welt appeared on her ass.  The man
nodded.  He hit Sylvie again.  A second welt appeared, she shrieked
anew.  Twice more the man hit Sylvie, in rapid succession.  She pressed
flat to the wall.  It was cold, in contrast to the bed underneath her,
warmed by her body.  Feeling the pain in her behind, Sylvie offered to
spread her legs even more.  But that wasn't possible, a cheerleader
would already have been put to shame to match the spread of her
frightened young legs.  Tears burst from Sylvie's eyes as the crop hit
her again.  She crushed her breasts to the wall, feeling its hardness,
its implacability.  Hardness loomed before her and danced behind her,
putting fire into her tender white cheeks.
         "Ah, it is an exemplary bottom," someone said.  It was a
woman's voice.  Sylvie trembled.  She could bear her fright no more.  As
the crop swung down again, making her shout, she lost control of
herself.  A rush of water wet the lips of her cunt and went running down
the insides of her thighs.  She pissed, the man behind her made her feel
the crop again as she mortified herself, wetting the bed!  Sylvie gasped
and howled and wept.  The more she suffered, the more the people behind
her seemed to enjoy it.  When at last the man finished, she was left
hanging against the wall, her behind on fire and her feet smooshing in a
puddle that was soaking its way into the mattress.  They left her that
way, utterly naked, hanging with her ass well-displayed.  From her
bedroom Sylvie, through her sobs, heard the crowd move into the room
where her aunt was sleeping.  They roused her.  They made her stand up,
her bare feet on the bed.  They did not allow her to go to the bathroom
but whipped her just like that, with her bladder full from sleep,
striking her again and again until her piss flooded her sheets.  Then
they went downstairs, and the two females could hear each other weeping
as they waited for someone to come and take them down from the wall.

30

                                              Chapter Eight

         All was tenderness and concern the next morning when Jan and
Miss Brookhaven came to the girls' bedrooms and unhooked them from the
wall.  Sylvie could hear Jan consoling her aunt as Miss Brookhaven
stretched her out on the bed, in the wet spot left by her pee, and
examined her bottom.  Sylvie whimpered.  She did not like the way Miss
Brookhaven pried open the cheeks of her ass and examined her rose hole
along with the fleshed spheres of her rump.  But there was no stopping
the woman; Sylvie felt utterly enslaved and could do nothing but lie on
the bed and wince whenever the woman's soft fingers impressed themselves
into her welts.
         "My, you've had a good lesson," Miss Brookhaven said when she
had finished examining Sylvie.  "There is much to learn yet but you have
taken your first whipping like a good little soldier," the older woman
told Sylvie.  "Very good.  Today we shall do much more.  But first some
breakfast-- you'll have to eat in the corner since you can't possibly
sit on such a  well-marked behind."
         Sylvie and Alessandra were presented some time later to the
guests downstairs.  They had both been bathed again, Sylvie's aunt by
Jan and the 13-year-old by Miss Brookhaven.  The guests wore the
remnants of their clothing, the result of a night of ardent fucking. 
Miss Brookhaven introduced her newest pupils to the guests by saying,
         "Their bottoms are swollen, so they will have to eat standing
up.  Are they not a pretty sight?  Turn around girls, that our guests
may see how well you've both taken your punishment."

30

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