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Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
AMSTERDAM DAMSELS
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Chapter Ten
I served them at dinner. They made me pin up my hair. To give me
elegance, allure; despite my lowly status as a slave-maid. My hair hung in
yellow goldspun curls down round my childish cheeks. My cheeks were
puffy and youthful, my mouth a rosebud of innocent pleasure.
My eyes were wide. Dinner was but a prelude. We would play with
whips afterward. My bottom would glow and burn and I would scream
more loudly than before.
It was the new couple. Sir L had recommended me to them. They had
called Cybil, paid well for me. In advance. I had been submissive. I had
not resisted the �assignment.�
I had their money in my purse. They did not know that. I planned to
go home as soon as we were finished. Trembling, I held the tray bearing
the husband�s liquor. His wife gazed at me. There was a pleased look on
her face.
A black choker secured itself around my neck. It suggested my
status. Gold earrings dangled from my ears to show I was no ordinary
maid. The woman had received me at the door, shown me into a guest
bedroom. There the maid�s uniform had been laid out for me upon the bed.
She had hesistated, looking at the uniform she�d bought, from a costume
shop, and wondered aloud if she should give me earrings too. I�d worn only
little drop earrings, faux pearls. They would give me everything I needed,
or nothing at all.
�I suppose,� she mused. �You are so pretty. I did not expect a girl as
pretty as you.� She paused. �Or so young.�
She had predatory eyes. She was approaching 30. Her breasts were
firm still but even if they remained so she wished to bear children within
the year. That wish would change her. She would gain weight
irretrievably in carrying her young and afterward the weight would stay,
expanding her hips and dragging down her breasts.
�I suppose I could give you earrings. Just to wear, of course dear,�
she added.
�Of course,� I murmured. Her eyes flicked over my body, sizing it up.
I sensed a touch of jealousy. I was a decade and a half away from having
to choose between children and a career, between children and my looks.
�Put on the uniform, then come out and serve us at dinner,� she said.
�I have dinner almost ready. You need only to serve it. My husband will be
present, of course. He should be home from work any moment.� She gazed
at my trim hips. �Do not wear the dress. Just the panties, the blouse, the
stockings, the shoes. Leave the dress off. In the course of dinner you
will, of course, lose your panties.�
Her eyes gazed at my waist and then rose to my own eyes, captured
them and held them intently. �I trust there are no misunderstandings?�
she asked. She waited for me to reply but I did not. �You will be whipped
after dinner. It will not be gentle.� Her eyes flicked down again, cast
themselves along the contours of my immature hips and then, with a slight
arch of her head, catching a glimpse of my high, round bottom. �I wish you
were not so young,� she murmured. Her eyes flicked to my breasts, so big
and heavy, and I saw the jealousy return. �Then he will impregnate me.
Don�t expect anything but payment for your services. No...� her voice
trailed off. �Sperm.�
�Yes,� I gasped. My heart was fluttering. I wriggled my hips and
wondered why I was here. Did I wish to be whipped? I did not know. I
liked playing submissive. And yet, and yet... it would hurt! I knew it
would hurt and yet I�d let Cybil call a cab for me, and I�d come, I�d rung the
doorbell. And now, waiting on the bed for me, was a maid�s uniform with a
short dress that I would not be permitted to wear.
I bent and served the gentleman his liquor. It was Seagram�s Extra
Dry Lime Twisted Gin. Cheap stuff. The meal was pretty but simple. They
were not wealthy. They lived only in a small townhouse and had waited til
their neighbors went on vacation to call for me.
The man, at least, was worth the visit. I felt a wetness in my
panties as I bent and poured out his gin into his glass from a big heavy
bottle. He was perhaps 35, only a policeman, but he lifted weights every
morning and he had a face like Tom Cruise.
�Don�t bother to carry the bottle back to the kitchen,� he said to me.
He smelled fresh from the shower and he took the big bottle from my
hands. He set it down next to his glass, intending to drink all of it.
�Where is your skirt?� he asked. He hooked a finger in my undies�
waistband and pulled me close. I did not answer. Instead I bit my lip.
�You do not have the right to remain silent at my dinnertable,� he
said gruffly to me. �I would have to arrest you for dressing this way
anyplace but here.�
�I know,� I answered. Then I tossed my head. I looked into his hero-
like face. �Your wife made me do it,� I said.
�Blaming another?� he said accusingly. �I do not like that.� He
traced the waistband of my panties back behind me and then suddenly, he
yanked down the back of them. �You may as well show your ass if you�re
not going to bother putting on a dress,� he said. Gently he palmed my seat.
His hand cupped each of my hinds in turn and squeezed it. I had a child�s
bottom. It was not difficult for him to hold half my pumpkin in his palm.
I bent slightly as he cupped me. I let my weight rest seductively in his
palm. Then I squirmed a little to tempt him.
�I will have to punish this naughty ass of yours,� he said to me.
�Yes,� I breathed. A breathy-sigh. A sigh of satisfaction and
submission.
�But not now,� he said. He upped me to a straight-legged position
with a gentle boosting of his palm. He drew his hand away and then gave
me a fatherly slap on my heinie. �Go and get our food. I�m hungry.�
I tossed my head again, feigning confidence despite the hordes of
butterflies let loose within my tummy. I could feel his eyes watching me
as I walked away from him. I gave my bottom an extra, exaggerated roll
as I walked. I reached back behind myself and, daring him, insisting on
modesty, I pulled up the seat of my panties. I heard his wife start to
speak but he must have stopped her, for nothing was said. No words of
reproach were given. Girl-like, tempting yet pure, I retreated to the
kitchen.
I checked my hair in a mirror. I loved the attention he gave me. I
took lipstick from a drawer, traced my lips again with it. A little makeup
kit was secreted in the kitchen, for maids who visited. I smacked my lips
to wet them. Excellent. He was so handsome, yet so much older than me.
I knew I should be home, doing my schoolwork, thinking only of boys in my
grade. But I loved the thrill I felt in his presence. I took a turkey from
the oven, placed it on top of the stove. I straightened my top. I wore no
maid�s apron around my waist. I had to be careful not to spill anything for
it would fall directly on me, or my panties. They were already too wet,
with my own juices.
A pot with gravy in it simmered atop the oven. I dipped a plastic
squirt bottle in it. I squirted gravy over the turkey�s golden outer surface
to give it a hint of extra flavor. Then I hefted up the turkey and walked
from the kitchen out to the dining room.
Ted (that was the policeman�s name) and his wife Sheryl sat
spooning soup into their mouths. They looked up. Ted�s eyes drank in my
figure. I let my hips roll with my desire as I approached them. I tossed
back the dangling blonde curls of my coiffure from my face and set the
turkey down upon the table between them. I placed it from Sheryl�s side
of the table, so Ted wouldn�t pull my panties down again.
�Wait,� Sheryl said as I straightened from a bent-forward pose,
letting go the turkey. She caught the front of my bodice with her hand. It
was low-cut, offering a glimpse of my mammaries. They brooded
bulgingly within it, stretching the fabric to the limit. It was black, felt
like satin to the touch. White lace decorated the fabric where it crossed
over my bosoms. The sleeves were half satin, half lace, the satin part
sheathing my upper arms, the lace my lower. Bows made from the satin
hung temptingly from my elbows. They dangled like black streamers,
catching the eye and waving behind me when I walked.
Sheryl yanked down the front of my bodice. My boobs spilled out.
She let go of it and it sprung up, unable to cover me now it hugged my
bosoms and sqeezed them together and pushed them up. I wore no bra. My
nipples sprouted hard and tempting from my tits.
Delicately Sheryl stroked a nipple with her fingertip, letting just
the sharp end of her nail pass over it, underneath it.
�Have you ever thought of having these pierced?� she asked me as I
gazed down at my newly exposed breasts.
�Yes, no!� I bit my lip. I had thought of it but certainly didn�t want
to admit it! Not here, not with them. I raised my eyes and saw Ted gazing
at my bitten lip.
�You do not have the right to remain silent at my dinnertable,� he
reminded me. �Or to lie.�
A pinch at one of my nipples. I dropped my eyes from his gorgeous
face back to my utterly vulnerable breasts. �Yes, I have thought of it,
but--� I watched as his wife seized my other nipple and pinched it.
�Ooch!� I gasped. �I am only to be whipped!� I blurted. They had paid for
nothing more.
A sound from the kitchen. I realized at once what it was, as did
Sheryl. The gravy pot was overflowing. I�d forgotten to turn off the heat
under it.
�Go and get the gravy!� Sheryl hissed at me. She let go of my bodice.
�Do NOT pull it up,� she added. I ran to the kitchen. My barely-clad bottom
jiggled behind me. The seat of my undies slipped between my cheeks and
hid there, showing my bare hinds.
Trying not to think about my nipples, I turned off the oven. I lifted
the gravy pot and took off the lid and looked inside. The gravy was boiling.
I was careful to keep the steam billowing up from the inside of the pot
from touching my nipples. I replaced the lid and shuffled out to the dining
table with the gravy.
�You are letting it drip on the rug!� Sheryl scolded me. I had
forgotten to wipe the pot. I looked back behind me and saw a trail of
gravy spots on the carpet.
�Let it be, foolish girl. I will clean it later,� Sheryl said. �Bring the
gravy. Ted cannot eat his turkey without it. And the stuffing too. Look
lively! Hurry, before it all boils over or gets cold.�
I gave Ted the gravy, not bothering to pour it for him. I rushed back
to the kitchen to make sure I�d not left the stuffing on. It would burn and
dry out. I hadn�t. I breathed a sigh of relief. I brought it out to Ted and
let him serve himself. I returned to the kitchen for cranberries. On my
way out I grabbed a bottle of red wine for myself and Sheryl. Self-
consciously I returned to them, my bosoms preceeding me and announcing
themselves with a tempting bounce at every step I took in my black pumps.
I put the cranberries on the table and then let Sheryl open the wine with a
corkscrew. She returned it to me. I filled her glass and then filled a glass
intended for me. Beside it, on a plate, Sheryl had served my food. She was
cutting it small, as if for an infant.
I eyed my food. Despite my fear at being whipped I was hungry. If I
was less experienced I couldn�t have eaten at all, knowing I�d be whipped,
but I�d felt the lash enough now that it no longer quelled my appetite. I
was growing up, a little.
�I need a chair,� I said.
�You do not,� Sheryl replied. �Kneel down. I will feed you.�
�I don�t want--� I began, but she grabbed my already lowered bodice
and used it to yank me down to my knees. My breasts wobbled above her
gripping fist, supported by her knuckles. They felt like Skeletor bones
pressing up into the soft underside of my breasts where they met my
torso. I wished for He-Man to rescue me, looked across the table at Ted,
lifting myself up a little to do it. He saw my peering eyes.
�Do as she says,� he told me, stuffing turkey in his mouth. I settled
on my knees. I placed my palms upon the floor and waited, dog-like, to be
fed. With her fingers Sheryl lifted a portion of meat from my plate and
dipped it in gravy. Then, the gravy dripping, she set it down again.
�You need a bib,� Shery said to me. �Go to the kitchen and get a bib
out of the drawer on the right, next to the refrigerator.�
I rose up. I turned. Feeling more self-conscious than ever, I reached
behind myself to straighten my panties.
�No, Melody,� Sheryl scolded me. �Just do as I tell you. Leave
whatever I�ve exposed just as it is.�
�But--� I began. She had not exposed my bottom! My seat had
slipped into my crack and left my cheeks hanging out naturally. Then I
remembered Ted�s pulling down my panties in back. To spite her, or
perhaps to obey, or both, I pulled my undies down in back. I let my bottom
show, even the crack, and I gave it a big wiggle to let her know I knew
where her husband�s eyes were fixed at this moment! Then I took hold of
the halves of my pumpkin and leaned forward, feeling my breasts drop
down beneath me, and I pulled open my bottom and showed them all I could.
�Excuse me, I have to fart,� I said politely. Knowing Ted was looking
at my little butthole, not his beautiful wife, I wiggled my tushy and
pretended to let one. Then I stood straight and walked with cultured steps
to the kitchen, tossing my blonde hair, letting my hands flit daintily
beside me, my fingers bent up to show off the polish on my pretty nails.
But I left my panties pulled down, just as she (perhaps) wanted them. I
felt the cool air of the room on my bottom and knew, wetting the crotch
that still lay snug against my cunt, that I would get extra strokes of the
whip for being so wanton.
I selected a baby�s Tweety Bird bib from the drawer and returned
with it. I gave it to Sheryl with a diffident air. She ordered me to my
knees.
Reaching down, her own full bosoms stretching the front of her
dress as she bent, Sheryl tied the bib around my neck.
�I want you to play with yourself as I feed you,� she said quietly to
me. She adjusted the bib. It was soft and fuzzy against my breasts. It
covered them across the top almost completely, leaving my nipples
sticking out underneath the bib�s end. �It is the only enjoyment you will
get, I�m afraid, so put your hand in your panties and rub yourself.�
I did not protest. I was hungry, and for more than just food.
Delicately lifting open the front of my undies, I slipped in my hand. As
Sheryl offered me the first tidbit of meat I stroked my labia. My panties
hugged my finger and made me press it all the more surely against myself.
Lightly I rubbed at first, then more boldly, finding my spot, sinking my
finger within my sex.
�Oh!� I gasped.
�Chew your food completely before you swallow,� Sheryl reminded
me. �I don�t want you choking on it. Your lovely throat would be utterly
ruined by a tracheotomy, eh Ted?�
�Most surely,� Ted grinned. I peeped at him over the table�s edge.
His eyes glowed at me. I longed for him but turned my face back to Sheryl
and accepted another gravy-dipped portion of meat from her.
The meal proceeded. Sheryl and Ted chatted quietly about their work
to each other. She was a corporate secretary. He was a patrolman. I
sensed that she made more money than he did. I sat quietly at Sheryl�s
feet, eating the bits of meat she fed me. Gravy dripped on my bib. I
worried about my nipples. The gravy was hot. They stemmed out from
underneath my bib, inviting trouble.
�And how is your new partner at work, dear?� Sheryl asked Ted.
�I don�t have her anymore,� he replied with a touch of glumness.
�The Chief made her his personal secretary.�
�She is so pretty. I hated to see her out on the line,� Sheryl replied.
�She might get hurt.�
�And you want to whip her!� Ted laughed. �You wish her saved but
not from yourself.�
�Well, I�m glad she�s not riding around with you all day anymore,�
Sheryl said. �You could still invite her over though, couldn�t you?�
�Yes, I suppose I could,� Ted mused. �Of course the Chief would kill
me if he knew I was porking his secretary. Or paddling her.�
�She has such a lovely figure. And her face is angelic!� Sheryl
sighed. She turned to me. �Rather like yours, dear, except you�re just a
little doggie, aren�t you?� she asked. She�d scooped some cranberries into
a little bowl for me and she presented it to me with a baby spoon she�d
been saving beside her plate. I lifted my chin and let her spoon the berries
into my mouth.
�Keep playing with yourself, my little pet,� she warned me, seeing
my hand motions momentarily slacken. �Get those panties off. You�ve no
need to wear them.�
Obeying her somewhat contradictory orders, I accepted a spoonful of
cranberries and then stood up. I peeled my panties off my crotch. Sheryl
noticed their wetness, perhaps from my more honeyed scent, for they were
black. She caught the liberated gusset between two fingers and rubbed it.
�My, you�ve wet them nicely,� she cooed. �Are you excited?�
�Not really,� I lied.
�Get them down your legs and go take them to Ted,� she said. �He
likes saving the panties of girls we�ve whipped.�
I obeyed. With awkward movements of my hands and legs I pulled my
panties all the way down to my feet, standing before Sheryl as she sat
watching me. Then, lifting my panties up and holding them by a single
finger, passed through a leghole, I walked round the table to Ted and
presented them to him.
�My panties, Sir,� I said with delicious abandon. I couldn�t keep my
hips from wiggling once I�d said it, for he took them very graciously off
my finger and stroked them. I loved the sight of his big, calloused hands
so gently examining my panties, as if they were fine jewelry.
�When I whip you, you will scream,� he said, looking into my eyes.
�I know,� I replied.
�Open your mouth. You need a gag,� Ted said.
�But don�t I get dessert?� I asked. There was a sumptuous chocolate
cake in the fridge.
�You are the dessert,� he answered. He lifted a hand to my lips and
pried them apart. Then, with me standing before him looking like I was at
some bizarre dentist�s office, my mouth wide open, my bottom jiggling
behind me, knowing how much it would hurt soon, Ted stuffed my panties
into my mouth.
I tasted myself. I wished I could have his underpants in my mouth
instead of my own.
�Lift your leg up. Put your foot on my knee,� Ted said. I complied.
My legs looked lovely in their long thigh-high stockings. I put a foot, still
encased in its pump, on his leg. �Get up on the table,� he said. He palmed
my bare bottom and boosted me up, letting me use his leg as a step to the
table.
Holding my panties in my mouth, I climbed up onto the table and
knelt on it. I found myself poised with my ass stuck in Ted�s face. I could
feel his breath on my bottom. I humped it at him. He leaned forward and,
cupping my fanny, he kissed each of my nether cheeks.
�Crawl to the center of the table and lie down,� Ted ordered. I
scampered into the middle of the table, skirting the turkey that lay half-
carved there. Sheryl pulled back some serving dishes and I found I could
lie down with the big turkey between my legs.
I spread myself out on the table. My bosoms stuck up like captured
fruit, caught in the opening made by my pulled-down bodice. My nipples
were hard. They looked like cherry stems. I sleeked my hands across my
flat tummy. I let a finger wander down into my small thatch of pubic hair
between my legs. I dipped it within myself. I rubbed my excited spot.
�Mmmf!� I cried within my panty-gag.
�Do you like being the center of attention, Melody?� Sheryl asked me.
I nodded. There was a price to be paid for their attention but I craved it
anyway. I heard Ted unzip himself as he leaned forward and played with
my coiffered blonde curls.
�Such a pretty victim,� Sheryl cooed. My eyes widened as I saw a
knife brought to one of my nipples. Very delicately, for it was the sharp
carving knife, Sheryl spread icing from a little bowl over my exposed
nipple. Then she moved the knife to the other one and carefully decorated
it just like the first. Only the stems of my nipples were iced. The rest
she left bare.
�And now for your clit,� Sheryl said.
I squeezed my eyes tightly shut. I felt a female hand urge my thighs
more widely apart and I tried very hard not to resist. It was difficult, for
as she spread my legs Sheryl spoke of �clitorization.�
�It does settle the girl down, that at least is a virtue of it,� Sheryl
said quietly. �It would cut down on teen promiscuity in our country if we
practised it here, don�t you think, Ted?� she asked. I felt the blade of the
knife touch my nubbin and prayed she would only tease me. Icing smoothed
cool across my little fleshy point.
�Yes, I do wish there was some way to get teens to Just Say No,�
Ted agreed.
�Well, this little one just needs a little cooling off, I think,� Sheryl
said. She lifted the knife away from me. I felt the residue of the icing
deposited on my spot. It was temptingly cool and I darted a finger down,
to check myself, to make sure I was still all there. Catching a drop of
icing on my finger, I lifted it from my spot and put it into my mouth. I
couldn�t taste it, because of the gag, but I smoothed it across my spread
lips. My red lipstick was glazed with a touch of white.
The knife returned to my breast, carrying a new load of icing. Gently
Sheryl passed it under my exposed areoles and then over the tops of my
breasts. I watched with interest as she iced me. Each time I feared the
sharp edge of the knife would cut my tits, but she was careful. When she
was finished I had two cream-white cones sticking up out of my bodice.
Amazingly, none of the icing had gotten on my maid�s uniform.
�Lick her tits,� Sheryl said to Ted.
�You will not be jealous?� Ted asked.
�I am going to ice her cunt and lick that,� Sheryl replied.
Still wearing his starched suit, that he�d put on special for dinner,
Ted rose and leaned over me. Turning my head slightly I saw that he�d
indeed undone his zipper. His penis stuck out of his pants large and heavy,
like the neck of his big gin bottle. He breathed over my face. I smelled
lime. He kissed my gagged, parted lips once and then put his 5 o� clock
shadowed face to my breasts. I felt stubble graze away some of the icing
that covered me. A tongue protruded and caught at one of my whitened
nipples.
�Oh!� I cried. Ted licked my boobs. As he licked, his wife used the
sharp carving knife to ice up my cunt. I felt the blade delve within me and
ice the lips of my labia. I shivered. My hips wiggled.
�Don�t move,� Sheryl said. �You�ll be cut if you do.�
�Mmmf!� I gasped within my gagged mouth. How could I not move
when I had such attention being lavished upon me? Still I tried my best to
quiet my squirmy young hips. I let Sheryl ice my cunny and then, as her
husband continued to lick clean my breasts, suckling them like a babe
(though I wore the bib, turned up to show my tits) she devoured my cunt.
I writhed with passion. The knife had been withdrawn and I lay like
a fish on the table, gasping and squirming. Their tongues assailed me. I
felt myself simultaneously suckled and fucked. Sheryl used her tongue
like a penis. Ted supped at my dessert-like nipples, savoring their youth
and vitality. I was soft in all the right places and hard in the few places a
female must be when she�s ready for sex.
I came quickly. My fingers had brought me close to orgasm but I�d
been embarrassed to go all the way. Now, under Sheryl�s seeking tongue, I
cried out my pleasure and juiced her quietly feeding mouth. Ted smiled
down at me, taking a break from my breasts. He teased my nipples with
his fingers as he watched me cum and cum into his wife�s licking face.
�She is ready for the whip,� Sheryl said at last. Ted gathered me
limply into his arms. I gasped from my still-near orgasm, too weak to
protest.
I was carried into their bedroom. There, at the foot of their master
bed, stood a wooden trestle. It looked like something you might see on the
road to stop traffic. It was made of natural cherry wood and had been
covered with a light coat of varnish. Instead of a sign on top, it had a
padded cushion.
Ted set me down on my feet. He nodded toward the trestle.
Trembling, I approached it. I was a big girl now. I didn�t have to be
dragged, or threatened, or cajoled with false promises. I strode up to it,
feeling my bare bottom behind me, rolling with my steps. I placed my
fingers on the padded top of the trestle. I felt my hips jutting out, my
cunny moist, my bottom tense behind me.
�I suppose this is where the rubber meets the road?� I asked,
playing coy.
�Just bend over it. You�ve been whipped before,� Sheryl said
implacably, uncaringly. I heard them undressing behind me.
I bent forward. I let my bare heinie arch out behind me. I pressed
my tummy to the leather cushion, standing on tip-toe for the trestle was a
little too big for me. I reached down the front of the trestle and found a
grab bar. I clutched at it. I pressed my thighs tightly together and waited.
My gold coiffure curls dangled down from my head, pointing at the floor,
free of my face at last.
�Open your legs!� Sheryl barked. I heard a whip crack behind me and
flinched, scared for a moment it had hit me. With mounting trepidation I
parted my thighs. �Wider! I can hardly see what you�ve got there,� Sheryl
tormented me. I let her see the fulness of my fruit, my lightly haired
cunny, the pouting lips I so deeply wished Ted would find too inviting to
pass up.
SWIIIICK! The whip, lifted in a cracking ascent, skirted up the inside
of my thigh and grazed my cunny before snapping in the air above my
waiting heinie.
�Yes, that is better. How wet you are in between your legs,� Sheryl
said. �Ted, aren�t you going to tie her?�
�Oh yeah,� Ted answered. He approached me. I felt like a sacrificial
lamb waiting for the axe. His penis dangling between his legs, hard and
long and pulsing, he bent in his nudity and secured my wrists and ankles
with leather straps to the trestle.
�Very good,� Sheryl said. �Rub yourself while I whip her. I don�t
want you to get any ideas, looking at her bottom.�
�I might spill,� Ted warned.
�No you won�t,� Sheryl replied. �You�re going to rub yourself and I�m
going to rub myself and as soon as little Melody here has gotten what she
came for, you�re going to thrust that lusty spear of yours into my cunt and
give me a baby.�
�Yes, dear,� Ted sighed. It was a trembly-sigh, full of passion, much
like the ones that issued from my own throat as I waited for the whip to
fall. Oh, it would hurt so badly! I wanted their attention and yet I did not
want that whip cracking across my arse. I�d caught a glimpse of it,
coming into the bedroom, looked away. It was a big horse whip, for big
girls. It had been coiled over the bed�s headboard, waiting for me. Now I
could hear it slithering across the wooden bedroom floor behind me as
Sheryl began to tittilate herself with her fingers.
�God, what a lovely white bottom!� Sheryl commented. �How
sweetly she offers it.�
�We are not the first to scorch it, I�m afraid,� Ted commented.
�Oh, you men! Always needing to be first,� Sheryl scolded. �Well,
don�t be first tonight, sir. I expect you to cum in my cunny, not on her
fanny or across my thigh.�
�Yes, sweetheart,� Ted replied.
�Turn around. I want to give you a few first to make sure you
behave,� Sheryl said.
I heard Ted comply. Suddenly there was a sharp crack and this big
tough policeman, who arrested thugs every day and sometimes got beaten
and hit by them, but took it as part of his duty, howled like a little boy.
Sheryl laughed and I heard Ted�s feet as he danced in place on the floor. I
spied a mirror, perhaps placed just for me, and found myself watching his
bell-like balls as they jangled between his legs.
�Here�s another,� I heard Sheryl say, and I saw the whip streak in
and hit Ted from behind. He shouted and jumped and his big cock bounced
all around, stiff and hard and drooly, flicking his cum around the bedroom.
He caught his dick and massaged it furiously with his hand, though it
hadn�t been hit at all, while not bothering to rub his bottom, which surely
burned like a hot parking lot.
�And another,� Sheryl crowed.
�Yeeeeehooooch!� Ted yelled. He grabbed at his dick with both hands
and double-fisted it. Why was he rubbing his penis when it was his
bottom that hurt? I asked myself. But I had no time to find an answer, for
Sheryl, satisfied that Ted would do as she wished, turned to me. I saw her
gaze and her grin as she stepped out from behind him and I saw her arm
draw back.
SWWWWWISH-CRACKKKK!
�Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!� I cried out in an endless scream. My panties
dropped from my mouth. I sobbed out a gasp when my scream ended and
felt tears burst from my eyes. A bright scorching line of heat flared
across my buns and did not leave me. I tried to wiggle my ass but my
posture was so taught and enforced that I could barely move at all, save to
try to hump the cushion with my naked pussy.
Sheryl savored my pain. She waited while I sobbed and tried to
control the heat, vainly, that seared itself across my heinie. Ted rubbed
himself, watching me cry, listening to me beg incoherently to be let up.
My tears and sobs fouled my speech.
�She needs something between her teeth,� Sheryl said to Ted. �Quit
playing with yourself and get a bit for her.�
�Yes, dear,� Ted said with an eagerness in his voice. I knew it would
be a severe whipping if I needed a bit and I begged to be let off.
�Oh please don�t,� I said at last, finding my words again as I
struggled in my bonds, pulled taught over the wicked cherry wood trestle.
Ted ignored me and placed a bit forcefully between my teeth. It was wide
as his cock and it wrenched my lips wide apart. He tied it behind my head
with twin leather thongs that dangled helpfully from its ends.
�Okay, she�s bitted,� Ted told his wife.
�Good,� Sheryl replied. I heard the whip slither again across the
floor and then sing up and back and through the air. A flesh-shattering
blow reached my ears as I raised my chin and howled to heaven. My
bottom, so cute at dinner, received the blow helplessly, seared by it, burnt
by it, a bright red welt forming where moments before I�d been pretty and
pure, cream hinds turning beet red.
With a slow deliberate sadism Sheryl took her time whipping me.
There was no rush, from her perspective, unless her husband threatened to
spill himself. Ted rubbed himself gently, I noted in a mirror, on a rare
moment when I�d found my mind again amidst the bottom-burning pain. He
wanted to last at least as long as I did. But I had no choice. I was far
from pleasure now, my cunny still honeyed and drippy, but my ass so deep
in pain that I could think of nothing but it.
A half hour passed. Sheryl gave me a break. She untied my bit and
bathed my lips with champagne, urging me to drink from the neck of a
bottle. Most of it spattered on the floor, wetting my sex-moistened
panties.
�Drink, darling, it will lessen the pain a little,� Sheryl cooed. She
lifted my chin sympathetically and poured the champagne as best she
could down my throat. I remained bent over the trestle, a small animal
tied up for slaughter.
The whipping resumed. I tasted new depths of pain as the horsewhip
seared its way across my flesh. Sheryl landed several blows on my back
and thighs to give my bottom (or what was left of it!) a rest.
Suddenly the attention veered from myself to Sheryl. Ted announced
that he was on the brink of cumming and she dropped her whip and led him
quickly to their bed. The covers already drawn back, she plopped down on
it and spread herself for him.
�Impregnate me with your child,� Sheryl hissed at him.
�Yesss,� Ted answered. He mounted her and swiftly thrust himself
into her waiting dell. As I lay sobbing over the trestle the sounds of their
lovemaking tormented my ears.
They were long about it. Ted had enormous fortitude. He rodded her
fiercely and deeply and did not spurt for what seemed the longest time,
despite Sheryl�s whore-like encouragements, thrusting her hips up at him,
begging him, needing him, swearing that she would punish him if he didn�t
release his seed at once into her.
When they were done they lay in the bed and talked and kissed and
caressed each other. They were like Olympic victors on some obscene
relay team. She felt pregnant, she told him. He assured her she must
certainly be. He grew hard again and he re-mounted her and gave her
another pounding.
Deep in the night, Ted rose and untied me. Sheryl lay sleeping in the
bed. I could not rise from the trestle, despite being untied, and he let me
hang over it. He brought balms and creams and ointments and smoothed
them over my still-burning flesh. His calloused palms punished my bottom
anew but I was grateful for the cream. When he was done, he found
himself hard again.
�Don�t tell Sheryl,� he whispered to me. I cut off a sob by biting my
lip.
�You have the right to remain silent,� he said, caressing my child-
like chin. Then he mounted me from behind, finding my slot, still wet with
my dew, renewed by his rubbings. He stuck himself into my tightness as
best he could and fucked me like a sack of potatoes, for I was too weak
too move. Thrusting his hairy belly and hips against my bottom tortured it
anew, but I longed for him. He got his entire length up me and did me for
what seemed like hours, for his desperation was gone now. Rid of the
worst of his load, he could pleasure himself in me without spurting,
despite my girlish tightness and my infant-like sobs. At last, as morning
approached and Sheryl tossed in the bed, threatening to wake, Ted spurted
his seed deep inside me. I received him gratefully. He kissed my face and
left me just as Sheryl opened her eyes.
�Mmmm, did you fuck me last night?� she asked. She gazed up at the
ceiling, lying listlessly in bed. She felt her sex. �I hurt.�
�Yes, I fucked you last night,� Ted answered. He stole into bed
beside her and kissed her.
�Oh, yes. Now I remember. How is that poor girl doing? What�s her
name?�
�Melody,� Ted replied.
�We must put some cream on her bottom,� Sheryl said, sitting up.
�I already have,� Ted answered.
I left them later that day, after breakfast. My bottom was not
irremedially ruined, just welted. Sheryl told me the welts would sink
back into my skin in a week or so. I got into the cab that came for me
with an excess of wiggling, was forced to sit on my hip.
�Where to?� the cabman asked. He noticed my odd posture in the
back seat but said nothing about it.
�The airport,� I gasped.
�You are leaving our wonderful country?� he said, noticing I had not
the typical Dutch accent to my English.
�I am,� I breathed.
�It�s a long flight. I hate sitting on those transatlantic flights.
Much better to take a short hop to Italy or to Sweden.�
I considered. �You�re right,� I said. �How about London? Is that a
long flight?�
�Nope,� he said. �Have you ever seen the Tower of London? Pretty
cool, but not for the people they kept there.�
I gasped, tried to sit on my heinie. I barely managed it. �Never mind
London, then,� I said. �Do you have a phone?�
�Sure,� he said. He lifted a cellphone up from the seat beside him.
�Call the airport,� I said, pausing to draw a breath as my injured
bottom settled into the seat. The cab hit a bump and I gasped. The driver
gazed at me, at my bra-less breasts inside my white blouse that jiggled. I
wanted to lift my hands to the little blue jacket I wore and button it over
my blouse but I had to keep them pressed flat to the seat to help out my
bottom. �Call the airport, and book me a flight straight to Utah.�
�Utah?� the driver asked. �There�s no Tower of London in Utah, or
much else. Just a big inland sea of Epsom�s Salt.�
�I know, but that�s what I need just now,� I replied.
THE END
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-END OF story EMISSION