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Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
HOUSE OF FEAR
Chapter Three
Wendy watched the water rising in the tub. It was a porcelain tub.
Fresh towels were stacked at the rear of it. A rubber duck sat next to the
spigot. Stinking of pee, Wendy stood on a pink throw rug in front of the
tub. Her boots were off, having been removed by Rose as she relieved
herself on the bathroom�s white toilet. Rose had peed too, after Wendy.
The girls had looked at each other guiltily as they used the commode.
�Did you like it?� Rose had asked Wendy.
�What?� Wendy had answered.
�Being peed on,� Rose had said.
�No,� Wendy had answered, but the young wife had sensed she was
lying. �A- A little,� Wendy had admitted a moment later. �It was so
unexpected. So male.�
�Audaciously male,� Rose had agreed. And now Rose, having washed
the sperm and pee off her face at the sink, was checking the temperature
of the water flowing into the tub. She reached for a Mr. Bubble, sitting
next to the rubber duck. She unscrewed the pink bottle and added some
rose-colored fluid to the inrushing water.
�There,� Rose told Wendy, putting a hand in the water to stir in the
bubbles. �Nice and hot, with a mass of bubbles to sweeten your already
sweet skin.�
�I need this rope off my hands,� Wendy answered. She stood
barefoot on the pink rug, her panties lying on the floor next to the tub,
next to her cast-off boots.
�No. You will keep the rope on,� Rose replied. She saw the sudden
look of fear in Wendy�s eyes. �You must trust me,� Rose said. �I won�t let
you drown.�
When the tub was filled, Rose put a hand to Wendy�s behind. She felt
the delicious curve of the girl�s rubbery cheeks. She felt the skin tense,
draw inward. Gently Rose pushed Wendy forward. Wendy lifted a leg and
stepped into the tub.
�Oooh!� Wendy gasped. Her toes touched the tub water. It was hot.
�Is it too hot?� Rose asked. There was mirth in her eyes.
�Yessss!� Wendy hissed.
�Your first taste of discomfort!� Rose enthused.
�Oh my!� Wendy gasped. Then, quickly, she added, �I did not expect--
�
�Don�t worry. We will go slow,� Rose said. �You are precious and
delicate. I wouldn�t want to scald you.�
�It- it is not that hot, but almost so!� Wendy gasped. She let her
foot sink into the tub. The temperature was just bearable, if one went in
with skin-crawling slowness.
�Yes. Just bearable,� Rose echoed. Her finger slipped across the
outjutting curve of Wendy�s behind. Sliding the digit under Wendy�s bound
hands, which rested on her bottom, she slipped it into the crack.
�Oooh!� Wendy declared. Her bottom cheeks, already tense, tightened
further. Rose felt the rubberiness of the cheeks squeezing her. They were
trying to dislodge her, to force her out, but she managed to squirm down
between the balled, naked flesh and find Wendy�s poop hole. �Yeeek!�
Wendy shrieked. Rose smiled at the tightness of the sphincter she was
pressing her finger against. It was a little swirled door, shut tight
against her, surrounded on all sides by clutching bottom-flesh.
�Here is where you will truly suffer,� Rose assured Wendy. �Both
your master and my husband have a fetish for this opening in a girl. The
mouth, by comparison, is capacious. Even the pussy is built to take cock,
though perhaps with much stretching. But this small pin-hole of an
opening, which you now have quite shut against me, was never intended by
God to have things go up it. So of course my husband, and your lover (is he
your lover?) find this part of a girl most intriguing. No matter how much
attention they pay to you, to your lips or your near-virgin pussy, this will
draw the majority of their fire. It is here, at your seat, within your seat,
that they will be most severe and demanding.�
�Oh, I do not want a bath!� Wendy cried.
�Get in!� Rose demanded. She pulled out her finger and gave the girl
a quick shove. Suddenly Wendy was in the tub with both feet, her toes
burning, her ankles almost scalded; up to her knees, it seemed, in hot lava.
�Sit down!� Rose shouted.
�Nooooo!� Wendy gasped. Rose pushed the girl down, her hands on her
shoulders, Wendy�s knees buckling. The white flesh of the girl�s bottom
crashed into the too-hot water. �Oooooh!� Wendy wailed. The tub water
splashed her belly and breasts, even her face. Wendy shut her eyes tight.
�There. You are in,� Rose said. Her breath came in quick gasps. Her
breath heaved. �And you are still alive,� she added.
�Just barely!� Wendy gasped. Her tits shook.
�I should add spice and cook you,� Rose said. Admiringly she gazed
at the girl. Her white flesh was now pink, heated by the hot water. �What
a wonderful meal you would make!� Rose enthused.
�Or a dessert,� a voice boomed from the bathroom door. Rose turned
her head. Wendy�s eyes flew open, tears streaming down her face.
�She is lovely,� Scar said. He stood in the doorway. He had changed
his clothes. Now, instead of the casual shirt and pants he had worn in the
living room, he wore black boots, work boots, and thick leather gloves.
There was a scarf around his neck. Its color matched that of his boots and
gloves. Otherwise he was naked. His body was hairy and muscular. Here
and there on his flesh, distributed at random, were the signs of his earlier
life: scars, tattoos, the sign of a man once poor and careless. Now, unlike
in earlier days, his face was smooth-shaved, smelling of aftershave. His
hair was combed, oiled. His body was oiled too, as if for a hard day�s
work, the muscles limbered and ready. In his hand, clutched by his gloved
fingers, he held a whip.
�Oh!� Wendy gasped, as her eyes met the whip. It had a short, stubby
handle. The cords were generously long.
�You look as if you�re waiting for someone,� Rose laughed, for the
Arab�s penis stuck out from his body like a frozen sausage.
�Yes,� Ryan said. Reflectively, his eyes leaving the two girls for a
moment, he added, �I used to whip the king�s girls dressed like this. The
king�s ministers suggested I have my balls removed, limiting the harm I
might do to the whip alone, and perhaps an illegal fuck, but leaving no
children behind. However the king liked the way my balls swung back and
forth as I wielded the whip. At first my balls would be tightly drawn up,
as they are now, full of my excitement. But in my raw youth, inevitably I
would cum. I would spurt with hot lust at the pain I could inflict on the
girls. Even without touching myself, in those early days in the king�s
harem, I spilt while I was still working. The king would laugh to see my
embarrassment at cumming. And then he would admire my spent balls,
swinging back and forth as I continued to discipline the girls. So I kept
my balls. I had to take off my clothes every time I worked for the king
but, thank God, I did not have to lose my balls.�
�Do they pain you, being so tightly drawn up like that?� Rose asked.
Her eyes showed honest interest. Ryan laughed.
�That is the one drawback to keeping one�s balls,� Ryan said. �A man
suffers when they are full, and regrets when they are empty. And yet that
is the seeming compass of his life, filling and releasing, waiting to be
vigorous again and then enduring his fullness with a kind of manly valor,
praying for, and yet hating, the moment when they burst forth again
through his penis.�
�How poetic,� a second male voice said. The Arab looked startled.
He turned around in the doorway to the bathroom. �Oh. For a moment I
thought you were the king,� he said to Ryan. �Yes, I do not always gamble
when I go to Europe. Sometimes I study your language, or French, or
Spanish. I�m told that I�m smarter than I look.�
�I can agree with that,� Ryan said. �I trust your taste in poetry will
not get in the way of disciplining Wendy?�
�Ah, the man sounds like the king now. In my own home no less,�
Scar laughed. He gave a slight bow. �Yes, sire, I will see that your
girlfriend, or your lover, or your captive, or whatever she is, suffers
appropriately. After all, we�ve got to get that penis of yours stiff again.�
�Yes,� Ryan agreed. The older man looked down at himself. �It is
utterly depraved, I suppose, for me to find excitement in the pain borne by
a sixteen year old girl.�
The Arab lifted a gloved hand to his forehead. His dark hair had
fallen close to his eyes and he brushed it back. His cock quivered. �This
is not a place of judgement. Except for young ladies,� he said.
�Very well then. I expect you will indulge me,� Ryan said.
�As you wish, sire,� Scar laughed. Beyond the two men, in the
bathroom, Rose began washing Wendy. She used her hands. Wendy quailed
at the touch of the woman, listening to the men talk.
In a bedroom, after their bath, the girls dressed. Wendy was given
black stockings to wear. They were fishnet stockings. They sheathed her
legs from her toes to the mid-point of each thigh. But they did not have
elastic tops, as modern stockings do.
�That would leave marks on your skin,� Rose told Wendy.
�Only for a little while,� Wendy said.
�Yes, but only the men may mark you,� Rose answered. Wendy
trembled. Rose fastened a garter belt around Wendy�s waist. Wendy held
her stockings aloft with her fingers until Rose caught each one with a
clasp from the down-dangling straps of the garter. The straps, once
attached, were drawn tight. Wendy�s stockings were stretched to
perfection. Not a crease, not a bit of sag showed anywhere on the
sheathing black fishnet. �Keep your stockings taut,� Rose told Wendy.
�Always you must look your best. If you feel your stockings beginning to
sag, ask for a time-out. Even if the whip tears them, still you must do
your best to keep them perfect.�
�Yes,� Wendy said. She felt as if she were in some kind of erotic
daze. Her nipples were points atop the flesh of her bosoms. Her soft lips,
down where her legs joined, were wet, despite Rose�s ministrations with
a towel after their bath. She felt excited and heady. Her wrists, having
been freed so that she might hold her stockings, were now bound behind
her again with the rope Scar had put on her. This time, Rose did the
honors, Scar watching from the bedroom doorway. Wendy looked at Scar�s
big penis as she felt the rope bind her wrists.
�Oh! I have not had my pill!� Wendy suddenly blurted.
�Don�t worry. If he can get it up you, my husband will prefer your
bottom,� Rose answered.
�That�s a tall order,� Ryan commented. He was standing a little
behind Scar, watching the two girls with the same frank interest as the
Arab, his own cock in the meantime having again found its strength. He
was naked, like Scar. But he wore no gloves or boots. Instead he wore a
fur bathrobe, letting it hang open to show his aging, but still muscled
body.
�Do you wish to have her protected?� Scar asked Ryan. �My wife can
give her a pill.�
�No, she has brought pills along, but they are in her purse,� Ryan
said. �But do not allow her to get them. Now that I know she has
forgotten her pill, I wish to let her feel the danger of the proximity of the
penis to her womb. One spurt, and she stands to be changed forever. Her
belly would swell, her tits would grow, in her case, to an obscene size. A
child bursting through her near-virgin cunt nine months later would give
her the experience she so obviously needs, and the stretching too.�
�No doubt,� Scar agreed.
�Let her feel the anxiety of being naked, with men near,� Ryan said.
�Our interest is obvious, as is her nudity. Let it prey on her mind all night
long, how either of us might change her.�
Rose looked at Ryan and Scar. �You two men are awful!� Rose
commented. She finished tying Wendy�s hands. She stepped out from
behind the girl. She sat down on a cushioned stool. The men watched her
as she donned spike-heeled leather boots. They had spurs on the back of
them. She looked as if she were preparing to go ride cattle. But the heels
on her boots were too tall, too slender, for such difficult work. No, Ryan
mused, staring at Rose. The spurs on the back of the Arab�s wife�s boots
were not for riding cattle. They were for riding human females. Wendy
stood trembling, watching, her hands tied behind her, her stockings
prettily clasping her straight, thin teenage legs. Rose drew on opera-
length gloves. They were black, leather. They had to be tied round her
upper arms. Ryan stepped forward. He tied the gloves on her. Rose kissed
Ryan when he was done. Scar watched.
�Your wife has the most delicious pink lips,� Ryan told Scar after
Rose had kissed him.
�I�m glad you enjoy her,� Scar answered. Wendy blushed. There
could be no question of the result of such a liaison. If Rose were for Ryan,
she was for Scar. A wife swap, except Wendy wasn�t a wife. Wendy drew
in her breath. Her garter belt sagged.
�Tighten that belt,� Scar ordered.
�Oh! She is so slim,� Rose said. The Arab�s wife turned away from
Ryan. She tightened the belt around Wendy�s waist. Around Rose�s own
belly, binding her already flat stomach, she wore a corset. It was wide
and black. It stretched from her hips to just under her breasts. Her white
bosoms wobbled atop it. Below, past where it ended, her bush showed.
They were ready for sex, all of them, dressed yet undressed. But they
would not be having sex, despite the men�s erect cocks and the girl�s stiff,
inviting nipples. They would torture each other. They would use their
nudity to inflict pain rather than pleasure. Wendy, reflecting upon this,
fainted.
When she came to, Wendy found herself bound to a post. She was in a
new room. It was nearly dark. She felt hot breath on her cheek. She
turned, as best she could, her neck straining, her body trying to follow the
motion of her head. Rose kissed her lips.
�Hi,� Rose whispered. Wendy stared at the woman.
�What- what�s happened?� Wendy asked.
�You are tied to a stake,� Rose laughed. Wendy felt a soft touch on
her breast. She looked down to see a feather assail her nipple. Rose
laughed again. �How hard your little nipples become, when I touch a
feather to them!� Rose said, and touched Wendy�s opposite breast.
�No!� Wendy gasped.
�You are excited to be tortured,� Rose said.
�No I�m not!� Wendy said.
�Yes you are,� Rose laughed, and tickled both Wendy�s nipples again.
Then she touched the feather to her own breasts, in that dark, dimly lit
room, and Wendy saw Rose�s nipples grow as stiff as her own.
�You will confess all your sins,� a male voice intoned. Wendy looked
up. In the dimness of the room, in front of her, a male now emerged from
the shadows. It was Scar. He was dressed as before, his cock showing
lewdly. He gave a flick of the whip he held in his hand. Wendy felt dizzy.
Rose pressed a vial to the base of her nose.
�Smelling salts,� Rose said. Wendy�s face distorted. She responded
to the vial�s strong odor. Her head cleared. Again she regarded Scar, her
body trembling all over but unable to faint. Rose withdrew the vial. She
applied the feather between Wendy�s legs.
�No!� Wendy gasped. She felt herself wetten instantly. Her pussy
lips threatened to wet her stockings. Wendy, her legs close together,
drew her thighs closer. But the feather was slim, intrusive. Rose was
skilled. She wedged the feather with teasing accuracy between Wendy�s
legs. She touched her lips, caressed them. Wendy grew wetter. When
Rose took away the feather Wendy sat that its tip was wet.
�You are ready,� Scar said.
�No I�m not!� Wendy gasped. Rose put the vial again to her nose.
Wendy grimaced.
�Stay awake! Do not faint again,� Rose told Wendy. �You must feel
the whip.� Wendy felt her belly churn. She sucked in her breath. Her
knees trembled. Her too-excited tits, with their pebble-taut nipples,
quivered. �In a moment, when we turn on the lights, you will see a most
amazing room,� Rose said, keeping the vial of smelling salts close to
Wendy�s face, ready to use on her nose. �It is equipped for every
conceivable agony. The Inquisition would have been proud to own such a
room, for no expense has been spared by my husband in building it. His
wealth, from oil, has made it possible for him to indulge in devices of the
most extreme nature. Everything is here. Sheathes for the fingers, to
break them or twist them. Boots for the feet, to crush them. And then
there are the long-handled bats, used for giving blows to the body. Light
or hard, as their wielder desires. There is no end to what one might do,
given sufficient inspiration.�
�No!� Wendy gasped.
�Your nipples betray you,� Rose said.
�The feather--� Wendy protested.
�Upstairs you sported stiff nipples, despite the relaxing warmth of
the bath,� Rose smiled. �You cannot fool me. And your nipples surely
cannot. A man�s desire shows in his cock. Ours shows in our nipples, and
the wetness between our legs.� Rose slipped a finger between Wendy�s
thighs. The girl shrieked. �Turn on the lights!� Rose commanded.
They were four adventurers, young and bold, save for Ryan, who was
young at heart. The flesh of all four naked lovers crawled at the sight of
the implements in the room. Even Scar, who had stocked the room, was
always impressed by the sight: gleaming metal. Hard, polished wood,
worn down in places. Straps newly replaced or showing the stretch and
wear of past struggles. It all waited for them, and only their own sense
of compassion could stop them now. No one could rescue them. Spikes,
sharp blades, dildos big as donkey�s dicks, handcuffs and belts and paddles
and even a dangling noose might be used on any of them, as lust dictated,
with nothing, not even clothing, to keep them from each other�s bodies.
All four of them felt their hearts beating fast as they took in the room. It
was as if they had suddenly found themselves torn from the 20th century
and placed back in the Middle Ages. And yet even amidst such dark relics
from ancient days there were hints of time passed, of even newer methods
of pain. A cattle prod stood in a corner, waiting with batteries in it to
deliver electric shocks. Needles clustered in a vial like stems of flowers.
An operating table gleamed at the far end of the room. Beside it an I.V.
pole stood, all glistening metal, save for the fat enema bag hanging from
its top.
�Oh my God!� Wendy screamed.
�And yet,� Rose smiled, continuing aloud a thought she�d begun in her
head. �What is the most dangerous item in this room, poor little 16-year-
old Wendy? It is none of these things, these implements and machines,
that you quail at. These might cut your flesh or even end your life. But
they cannot change you, not consciously change you, anyway, as much as
what Scar possesses between his legs. And Ryan too. The penis. It is a
wholly natural object. It gets hard and then it gets pathetically soft. Yet
it alone can make you a mother, changing you forever from a girl into a
woman. It alone can give you children who tug at your breasts and eat up
your time. It can forever thrust you into a new life, while these other
man-made things that you see, they can only hurt you.�
�Yessss,� Wendy hissed. Silently, tears streamed from her eyes.
She felt her knees shaking with unbelievable fright. The trembling made
her bosoms wriggle alluringly. Wendy felt a wetness in her pussy,
unbidden. She knew her stocking tops were growing moist, the essence of
her hunger and fright running down her legs. Rose tickled her again,
finding her spot despite the tight-pressing of her thighs. �Oh I must take
my pill!� Wendy begged.
�No,� Rose said. �Ryan has forbidden it. You will face the men
completely unarmed, taking whatever they choose to give you. Pain,
pleasure, whatever they like. And your hands will remain bound, your body
defenseless.
Slowly Rose began to unbind the rope that held Wendy to the post.
Wendy quailed, her eyes opening wide as she felt the rope unwrap itself
from her body. Tied to the post, she was safe, if vulnerable. Much safer
than she would be now, with the rope off her, and the men able to freely
open her legs and put her on any machine they desired.
�No!� Wendy shrieked. The rope had lain between her breasts. It was
soft. It was hardly noticeable except for the pressure it exerted on her
skin. When she moved, it restrained her, but it protected her at the same
time, keeping her away from the men, straight and tall against the post.
Now the rope left her. It unwound itself from between her breasts, from
across her belly, from her thighs, from her calves. When it had fallen to
the floor, a suddenly impotent coil, Rose pushed Wendy forward. The itchy
rope binding Wendy�s wrists, that Scar had selected for Wendy, still
clasped her hands together. By tying her hands behind her back, Scar�s
rope caused Wendy�s breasts to thrust forward. Awkwardly, her bosoms
preceding her, Wendy stumbled toward the men. They admired her
gracelessness. They were like men at a cattle show, inspecting a young
calf. But they did not let her know how much they enjoyed her unsteady
display. Instead Scar kept his face impassive. Ryan frowned.
�She requires much training,� Ryan told Scar.
�I apologize for the obvious inexperience of this latest captive, your
highness,� Scar answered. They were playing a game now. Ryan was king,
like the king Scar once worked for. The Arab was again in the harem,
younger than he was now, more vigorous.
�Please don�t hurt me!� Wendy gasped. She watched as Scar raised
his whip. Rose stepped behind the girl. She put soft hands to her
shoulders, steadying her.
CRACK! The whip in Scar�s hand slashed across Wendy�s belly. The
girl screamed. Involuntarily she drew in her breath. Her ribs, already
showing, stood out more boldly against the now-hollow pit of her stomach.
Her garter belt, challenged by this new, even leaner version of the girl,
slipped down a little, letting her stockings sag.
�Tch! Tch!� Rose said. She noticed Wendy�s stockings. Scar reined
in his whip. They all looked at the girl, at her belly. Wendy gazed down
over her breasts. They were still wobbling with the sudden response of
her body. There was a red line across Wendy�s stomach. The mark of the
whip. And, below this burning red line, down past the swell of her slender
young hips, Wendy�s stockings sagged on her thin teenage legs.
�Were you not told to keep your stockings taut?� Scar barked at
Wendy. The girl burst into tears. But despite the sudden flood, Wendy
managed to lift her eyes up to the Arab. With trembling lips, she
answered him.
�Y- Y- Yes sir,� she stammered. Rose reached up and stroked
Wendy�s hair. It was gold, perfect blonde, tumbling down past her grief-
stricken face, like a halo on an injured young angel.
�Very good. She admits her guilt,� Rose said. She reached down and
pulled up Wendy�s garter. Between puffs of breath Wendy�s belly returned
to its previous girth. It held up her belt. Rose tightened the belt a little
more, causing Wendy to gasp.
�Oh darling, it is only a belt! Try a corset some time,� Rose
admonished the girl.
�She must learn to endure tightness in some places, and size in
others,� Scar observed. �Take her to the stool.�
�She is not yet sufficiently complicit,� Rose answered. Scar looked
at her. Their eyes clashed. Ryan was surprised. The Arab�s submissive
wife was possessed of more spirit than he had imagined. He felt his penis
grow more rigid. He would gladly trade little Wendy for the chance to
force himself into this fiery young bride.
�Alright,� Scar relented. Rose smiled.
�I will have to unbind her wrists,� Rose said.
�Alright,� Scar agreed. Ryan�s eyes showed surprise. Wendy�s
showed relief. Slowly, with everyone watching, Rose undid the rope
binding Wendy�s arms. It was a strange, sensual moment, their hearts
beating in their chests as the lovers gazed upon one another�s nude bodies.
Wendy�s tits quivered with every beat of her heart, as did Rose�s proud
bosoms. When at last Wendy was free, she drew her hands in front of
herself and rubbed her wrists. Her eyes darted from one vicious machine
to another, and Ryan could see she was contemplating escape. But they
were under the house, the door to the cellar was locked. Wendy was
surrounded by two sturdy men and a dominant female. Rose put a hand to
Wendy�s behind. The girl flinched. Lightly the young wife stroked the
girl�s bulbous cheeks.
�Come,� Rose said. Her hand left Wendy�s bottom. She grabbed one
of the girl�s newly-freed hands. She pulled her between two machines,
one a guillotine, the other a rack. Rose led Wendy to a small table. It was
waist height. Arrayed upon it, in the midst of such awful machines, were
a series of bottles. Perfumes, ointments, vaseline, baby oil. Rose picked
up the bottle of baby oil. She uncapped it. She placed it in Wendy�s hands.
�You are not the only one to be tested today,� Rose whispered to
Wendy. �The men must also be challenged. Use this to oil their penises,
so they might be ready when the moment comes.� Rose smiled. �And also
oil their balls. Their most sensitive appendage must not escape the trials
of the night.�
�Yes,� Wendy whispered in reply. The girl, her eyes large, her lips
wet, seemed almost to be in a trance. She spoke with a lisp. She was so
possessed of the moment, of her nude vulnerability, of the awfulness of
her surroundings, that she was forgetting to swallow her spit. Her words
were slurred, sensual.
Gently, delicately, in sharp contrast to the rigidity of the equipment
around her, Wendy approached the men. She threaded her way back
between the guillotine and the rack. She bowed her head so she could look
down at herself, at her wobbling breasts, at the reddened slash on her
slim, narrow belly, avoiding the beheading machine and the rack.
Wendy set down the baby oil on the end of the rack. Wordlessly, she
approached Ryan. She pushed back the open halves of his bathrobe. Ryan�s
penis, already obvious, became more prominent as Wendy exposed his hips.
She stroked his pale skin. Gradually her fingers slithered into his hairy
bush. She took hold of his cock, at the root. Then, as if trying the rigidity
of a flagpole, she began to caress his shaft.
�Enjoy your moment of pleasure, men. I have some painful designs
on your cocks,� Rose called out. She opened a drawer in the table. She
lifted out a ring. It was much too big for a finger. Ryan gasped when he
saw it. By its girth he could tell what it was for: it would slip neatly
over the crown of his cock. There were screws set in the ring. They could
be tightened. Ryan could almost feel the ring pressing upon his dick, as
his young lover caressed him.
�You would not,� Ryan said to Scar�s wife. She gave him a
mischievous smile.
�Oil him so this can slip easily over his dick,� Rose told the young
girl. Rose stepped out from between the machines, carrying the ring with
her. Wendy stepped away from Ryan, letting go of him. She picked up the
baby oil. She flipped open the bottle�s top. She laughed. She stepped
forward toward Ryan and took aim at his cock. At the same moment, on a
sudden inspiration, she lowered the bottle. She put it between her legs.
With her hands she compressed the bottle. Suddenly, the bottle seemed to
let forth a stream of pee. Wendy, remembering a prank she�d learned in
junior high school, laughed as she appeared to wet her 50-year-old lover.
Her bottle-shaped, ersatz penis was well-aimed. The stream hit Ryan
right on his dick.
�Hey!� Ryan protested. Rose chuckled. Scar let out a laugh. There in
the cellar, all eyes were on Ryan and Wendy, the girl wetting her lover�s
cock like a young dog in heat.
�And now for Scar,� Rose said, when Wendy had wet Ryan down. The
girl turned. She faced off against the Arab, her pretend penis pointing at
his all-to-real dick. Scar�s face clouded. But Wendy remained amused.
She let fly with a new squirt, squeezing the bottle in her small hands.
Scar flinched as the baby oil hit him. Rose stepped forward. She began to
caress Ryan with her gloved hands, even as Wendy wet down her husband.
�Shall I do the rest of him?� Wendy asked, when she had soaked
Scar�s big shaft and his cockhead and balls.
�No,� Rose replied. �Just his penis and balls. There is not time to
torture the rest of him. He is big and tough. We must cut to the quick,
concentrating on his most sensitive parts.�
�Oh, but--� Wendy objected. She lifted the bottle, aimed it at Scar�s
big chest. Rose, her hands still on Ryan�s cock, turned to the young girl.
�Do not think yourself excessively special,� Rose said to the blonde.
�My husband and I had little warning of your coming. In less than a week
you must be gone, for a new girl is coming. A girl from the king�s harem.
You must be broken in to the penis in only a few days. Come over here. It
is time for me to tie you again, and oil your bottom.
Wendy�s face showed alarm. Scar, his cock dripping, took hold of her
shoulders with his leather-gloved hands. Wendy dropped the bottle of baby
oil.
�Pick it up!� Rose scolded the girl. Wendy bent down to the floor. As
she bent, she felt Scar�s penis bump against her bare ass. She let out a
cry. Scar, laughing, his cock dripping, smeared oil and pre-cum on Wendy�s
behind with the tip of his cock. Wendy shuddered. She picked up the
bottle. She walked over to Rose.
�Do my pussy,� Rose told the girl. Wendy blanched. Rose slapped her
across the cheek. The blonde�s eyes flew wide. She dropped the bottle
again.
�Pick it up!� Rose yelled. Wendy bent down. Scar, standing some
distance behind her, frankly admired her ass. Wendy sensed his crude
gaze. She clapped a hand to her naked behind as she picked up the bottle.
�Squirt me,� Rose said. She let go of Ryan. She turned to face
Wendy. She opened her legs, the blonde watching with trembling hands as
the young wife exposed her crotch. It was delicate. It was a stunning
contrast to the men�s privates. Where the men grew outward, prominent
and rigid, Rose had only two little lips. They looked snug and nestlike
between her legs. Rose reached down and spread her lips. Wendy, seeing
her own sex reflected in the display before her, hesitatingly pointed the
bottle. �Have you had sex with a woman before?� Rose asked Wendy
frankly.
�N- Noooo,� Wendy, aiming the bottle, replied.
�You will become very intimate with this part of me,� Rose told the
girl. �I enjoy serving it for dessert, filled with cream or berries.�
�N- No!� Wendy shouted. She dropped the bottle again.
30
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