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Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
PUPPY LOVE
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Chapter Four
There was to be a party. Master would not be present. He wished to
test our loyalty to him by giving us to other men, men we�d never met
before, men we might not even like once we did meet them. Tara would
play hostess. We had the house to ourselves, she and I and Anna and
Jasmine and Rachel. We were five, but the men would be at least 15,
outnumbering us by far. We did not know what sort of permission he had
given to them. All we knew was that, before he left, master had all the
various guns he kept in the house removed, and the knives locked up in a
kitchen drawer.
�You will do whatever the men ask,� master told us, as we stood
lined up before him one morning, the sun in the trees, the sky bright, the
house indoors pleasantly dark and confining, protecting. �And you will
never see them again. They are from Russia, they will not be back this
way again.�
He turned and left us then, all trembling and shivery and unsure.
Two vicious dogs were let loose in the yard, new dogs, dogs we�d never fed
and petted before. He took the limo with him, and had our phone
disconnected.
�Oh, God!� Tara said, when he�d gone. �We only have a little time to
prepare. The men will be here any minute!�
�Can�t we, like, escape?� Rachel asked. I stood with her, holding
hands. Master had wakened us, made us all bathe and perfume ourselves,
telling us nothing until just now. He�d had hors d'oeuvres brought in by a
catering company while we were bathing. We were nude now, fresh and
dry and clean, our skin tingling, with clothing laid out for us in the parlor
that we might quickly put on to prepare for the men. There wasn�t much.
Tara slipped into a sleeveless shift, cut low in front and lower in back,
that was bare along both sides. It was held in place only by a network of
stringy little chains that ran between its two halves, keeping them
together, the front half covering her torso, the back half covering her
back. The shift itself was a finely woven net, easily torn, through which,
peering closely, you could see her large pink nipples. The multi-colored
hues of the net itself were the only thing that kept her nipples from being
readily apparent. It was variously colored purple, blue and yellow. The
colors whorled across the surface of the shift and seemed to make it glow
with a life of its own. Strands of fabric, narrow as pencils, hung below
the base of the shift, which was cut off just above Tara�s pussy, but near
her waist, along the side of her body. The shift hung lower along her
opposite leg, almost halfway down her thigh. The strands were no more
than two or three, offering her what little protection she could get from
what I guessed would be the leering gaze of the men. She was nervous,
clad in her too-short shift, her handful of dangling tassels catching her
eye as she looked down at herself. The shift, with its slit-open sides,
showing her breasts where they joined her body, gave her the look of a
truly alluring dinner guest, though it was but mid-morning. I imagined her
at some midnight party, her artfully slashed hem just hiding her pussy,
her shift in front molded to her breasts, while in back it was cut low
enough to show off the sensuous shape of her back. Her hips, swaying as
she walked, made the shift�s tassels jangle over the smooth flanks of her
thighs. In back the shift�s hem crossed over her right bottomcheek, boldly
exposing it, then dipped just low enough to cover the place where her legs
joined, and descended further after that to cover part of her left thigh, a
foolish but tempting use of what little fabric the shift-maker had been
given to work with. Here and there, artfully, inexplicably, bits of
decoration adorned the shift, a vee-shaped collection of ribbons, a trio of
little chains that hung for no purpose or reason along one section of her
ribs, and lastly, a piece of extra fabric, cut from the same fabric as the
shift, attached so that it flapped down over one of her nipples, covering it
so that it was more difficult to see. It was wide as a belt, no more than a
few inches long, and seemed there only to frustrate the viewer. One
nipple could be seen, if the shift was admired at close range, yet the
other, covered by this second bit of pointless fabric, remained hidden. I
supposed the effect would be to make the men yearn even more to tear off
the frustrating shift and make Tara utterly, completely nude, instead of
almost nude in her teasing, taunting shift.
As for myself, I wore white cotton panties, but they�d been pre-torn,
made ragged by the tearing of nails. Master had ordered the girls some
time ago to �tear up a pair of panties for me,� and, seeing that they were
panties for a young girl, Tara and Jasmine had set to them with a
vengeance. All I was left with, now that I was fated to wear them, was a
small patch of fabric where my pussy hair grew, and a slender tendril of
cotton running up the back of my ass, just barely hiding my ass crack. I
felt mortified to wear them, especially with company coming, but I was
offered no other choice. Like Tara, I wore truly elegant shoes, all shiny
and gold, with fine long spiked heels that made me wobble a little when I
first put them on and tried to walk in them. I covered my breasts with my
long hair, glad that I had not cut it. Master gave me diamond bracelets for
my wrists that looked real, but weren�t, and a diamond anklet. I had
earrings to match, hidden in my hair.
Jasmine looked perfect in a neat little bikini, as if fresh from the
pool, except she was as laden with diamond jewelry as I was. If you
looked closely, you could see that the pouch for her pussy had been
inexplicably cut away, leaving a gap in her panties. Above, her bra cups
were too small for her boobs, pressing against them rather than cupping
them as they should. Underneath and on either side of each cup her
breast-flesh bulged out, trying to break free of the senseless bra. She
fidgeted with the cups, hoping to keep them in place.
�I�ll bet they make me do jumping jacks,� she said to me ruefully.
�And leg lifts,� I replied. We shared a smile. Master was so wicked!
How dare he leave us here with unknown men coming, complete strangers?
I found that my nipples were hard, though, just from the thought of it.
Jasmine�s were too, making seductive little points in the nothing cups of
her bra.
�We should not go through with this,� Jasmine warned me.
�I�ll put you in charge of befriending the dogs,� I replied.
�Those darned men! If they pull up close to the house they�ll be able
to get to the door from the car without being bothered by the dogs,�
Jasmine cursed. �If I could call a cab I�d be splitting!�
�You�ll be splitting,� Tara said, glancing at her bikini bottoms.
�Looks like you�ve already split, to me.�
�Isn�t there any way we can get out of this?� I asked Tara, a
pleading look in my eyes.
�No, so forget about it,� Tara answered. She touched a tube of
lipstick to her lips, glanced at her nails. �Your hair should be perfect,�
she said to us. �Hair, nails, the whole bit. Let�s not disappoint these men
or we�ll disappoint master.�
�Oh, I don�t like master sometimes,� Anna sighed. She sat in a
reflective pose on the edge of a stuffed chair. I smiled at her.
�I wonder which one they�ll like the most?� I asked. �Of us, I
mean?�
�If they like big boobs, attractively displayed, it�ll be me,� Anna
replied with a sigh laced with a smile. She wore a tight corset that
pushed up her breasts but left them conveniently bare for the men. Her
hair was not long enough to cover them, and I saw that her hands flitted
across her nipples, absently, as if to protect them from harm.
Nonetheless, her teats on her uplifted breasts were stiff, expectant. Her
corset was so tight that her breath came in wispy gasps, as master
ordered it must. Her pubis was covered by a small skirt. It swished when
she walked, wearing black leather booties and matching gloves.
�What do I wear underneath?� Anna asked, tugging on her skirt,
glancing at Tara.
�Do you see anything laid out for you?� Tara asked.
�No,� Anna answered. �Could I sneak on a pair of panties?�
�Everything�s locked up, dear, I already tried,� Tara answered.
�We�re prisoners in our own house!� Rachel blurted.
�It�s master�s house,� Tara replied. She bent and brushed back her
hair, inspected her face in a hand-held mirror. �Get on your things, dear!
It will be too late in a minute!�
�But I feel ridiculous in this stuff!� Rachel whined. She had been
given a fireman�s hat, rubber boots, and rubber gloves, nothing more. �I
like the squirtgun, though!� She had gotten a toy to go with her clothes,
laid out for her by master. She shot a bit of water out.
�Hey!� I griped. �Don�t shoot my bottom.�
�Oh, alright. I�ll shoot the men instead,� she replied. �They�ll stay
away from me!� She lifted her gun skyward and shot at the chandelier.
�Settle down, I think I hear them coming!� Tara scolded. I heard an
engine in the drive, approaching, stopping, shutting off.
�Oh, help!� Anna said in her whispery-voice.
�Shhh! Let me greet them!� Tara said.
Tara went to the door, her tassels swinging, the little decorations
on her shift rustling, her hips a fluid movement of to-and-fro, jiggly in
their womanly fullness, her long hair swaying behind her like an invitation
to any man. She opened the door and, as she told me later, she blushed.
Her white teeth showed between her nervous lips as she tried to smile
cheerily at the hulking group of men who greeted her at the door. Shyly
she lifted the front of her shift, to show them they were at the right place
by giving them a full, unhindered glimpse of her pussy. No woman would
do that for a group of unknown men unless someone had pre-arranged the
meeting. Satisfied, both that they were at the right address and that they
were not being set up by some police sting for prospecting Johns, the men
entered. With forced cheerfulness Tara tried to keep her role as hostess
over them.
�Hello, guys. We were just playing dress-up, but I guess we�d be
remiss if we left hunks like you standing out in the cold,� she smiled.
�Cut the crap,� a man, whom I never knew by name but who I named
Ivan, since he seemed the leader of these Russians, told her. A little
startled, Tara drew back. Then she tried again to regain control by
walking toward the rest of us, sitting in the living room, inviting the men
to follow, hoping the rest had a better disposition than Ivan.
�Stop right there,� Ivan said to Tara. He glanced around
suspiciously. �Squat down.� Tara, a little uncertain, squatted as best she
could in the middle of the carpet, striving to keep herself looking the
elegant hostess for them. �Lift up your dress in back, get it out of the
way,� Ivan told Tara. Still smiling, surprised and admiring his
ruthlessness a little, she obeyed, showing off her ass amidst the handful
of tassels that still dangled down. �Pee,� Ivan barked.
�What?!� Tara gasped. She tried to retain her smile.
�Right there, on your master�s rug. Pee like a dog.� Ivan had a huge
bulge in his pants, and I saw the other men were as aroused as he. They
surveyed us with lascivious eyes, waiting, though, for Ivan to lead them.
�I-I don�t know if I can go,� Tara protested.
�Do it, do it now or I�ll punish you,� Ivan ordered.
Tara bit her lip, smiled to keep Ivan happy, concentrated a moment.
She kept her hands on her dress, lifting it up so it wouldn�t be in the way.
As far as possible she opened her thighs, letting her cuntlips spread. Then
she peed. A quick, spritzing yellow sprinkle right into the deep softness
of master�s expensive carpet. No pee splashed. The carpet was too rich
and deep. When she was done, Tara rose. She walked to a table, drew a
kleenex from a decorated china box, and wiped herself between the legs.
�Do you want my kleenex?� Tara asked Ivan. He nodded. Slyly, she
walked over to him, and tucked her used kleenex into the breastpocket of
his coat.
�If you�re a cop, you�re a damn bold one,� Ivan told her. She stood on
tiptoe, briefly hooked her arms around his neck, and lightly kissed him on
the lips.
�I�m not a cop, okay?� Tara smiled. Then she turned, and invited the
men to join us in the parlor. She was in control again, they were agog at
her and at us. �Sit down, gentlemen,� she invited. �Let�s get to know each
other a little first. Would you like some wine, some coffee?�
�Vodka,� Ivan ordered.
�Alright,� Tara said. She cast a quick glance at Anna.
�I�ll get it,� Anna offered. She went to the bar.
�Rachel, since you�re in charge of putting out fires, you can light
them, too. Offer to light the men�s cigars for them,� Tara ordered.
�Okay,� Rachel replied. She rose in all her nude glory, girlish and
childish, and tromped in her yellow firegirl boots over to Ivan. �Hi,� she
said. She pointed her squirtgun at him. �Stick �em up.�
�I see you�re armed and dangerous!� Ivan laughed, his voice thickly
Russian. He gazed at her boobs, her pussy. �In more ways than one. How
old are you?�
�Sixteen, pardner,� Rachel answered. She squirted Ivan�s big nose.
He winced.
�Just light my cigar, cherrybomb,� Ivan said, and tossed her his
lighter. It was made of Ivory, as forbidden as Rachel herself. The girl
caught it and lit a cigar Ivan produced. Then she pranced around the room,
lighting each man�s cigar in turn, and squirting him for good measure. A
few men unzipped themselves and she squirted through their zippers into
their underpants. Their cocks remained buried, waiting for Ivan to allow
them out. When Rachel was all done she begged leave to go to the kitchen
to refill her precious squirtgun. Tara made her use champagne instead,
handing her the bottle. If she left she might hide and get us all in trouble
if we couldn�t find her. The men were enraptured with her.
�What happened to your panties?� a man sitting near me asked.
I had been made to settle into the lap of a burly man I named Stalin, and he
had me uncomfortably perched right on top of his prong. I dreaded what
would happen when Ivan let him take it out.
�It�s summer. Torn panties are cooler,� I answered Khrushchev,
Stalin�s seatmate on the couch.
�Easier for paddling too,� Stalin winked at Khrushchev. �You don�t
have to lower them or anything.�
Anna began passing drinks around, offering them on a silver tray.
�Such a nice skirt,� Ivan admired. He reached out, fingered the
fabric. Anna blushed, knowing he might guess her secret. He did. He
lifted the skirt. �Ah, no panties,� Ivan admired. �How convenient for
fucking.�
�Behave yourselves, gentlemen,� Tara said, swishing over to help
Anna hand out drinks. She lifted them from Anna�s tray and handed one to
each man. Her tray quickly depleted, Anna went to the bar to get more.
Tara sat down in a chair of her own near Ivan. Her bare bottom rested
neatly on the cushion. She did not show more than a hint of
embarrassment as the lips of her pussy showed. I thought she might cross
her legs, but she didn�t. She kept her thighs close together, but not tight
pressed. Hunching forward a little, she placed her elbows on her legs and
rested her chin in her hands. She was every man�s dream; model-perfect,
20-something elegance, her legs lightly open, casual. Anna gave her a
drink and she balanced it on her fingertips. She sipped it, tossed her hair.
�What brings you men to such a faraway place as Argentina?� Tara
asked lightly. Anna finished handing out her drinks and went over to
Tara�s chair. Quietly she settled onto the hard wooden arm of the chair,
placing her palms beneath her soft bottom to protect it. Her big bosoms
wobbled atop her corset. She breathed in shallow breaths, lifting her chin
a little to accept more air, then finally bowing her head to curl her finger
in Tara�s raven-colored locks.
�We will come far to punish young females,� Ivan replied. He spoke
softly, but firmly, not harshly as he had earlier. Yet I sensed there could
be no disobeying his desires.
�You want to punish us?� Tara gasped. I shifted on my suitor�s lap.
He took my waist in his hands and held it tight.
�It is all part of the training your master has ordered,� Ivan replied.
Anna put a hand to her throat. I saw Tara swallow, the muscles on the
sides of her swan neck briefly flexing.
�Wh-what do you propose to do?� Tara asked.
�I don�t want to be punished, I haven�t been bad,� Rachel piped up.
She was playfully overturned on a man�s lap, her bottom up, her titties
hanging down. She twirled her squirtgun on her finger and kicked her
booted feet aimlessly behind her. Her gloves had been tossed away, but
she still had her fireman�s hat on. 911 was printed in big gold letters on
the front of it.
Ivan drew a piece of paper from his pocket. He unfolded it. He
looked at Tara, at the paper. �You are--?� he asked.
�Tara,� she answered.
�You are to have your pussy pierced.� Ivan read in a cool,
emotionless tone.
�What?!� Tara shrieked. Her hand flew to her mouth. I saw her bite
into one of her fingers. For a moment she just stared, Ivan staring back at
her.
�Don�t worry, I�m a surgeon,� Ivan answered. �You will not be
harmed in any way, except, of course, that you will be pierced, a small
hole only, through the clitoral hood, because your master says you�re the
sexiest. For Jasmine, the piercing will be through the vulva.� He glanced
at Anna, watched her breasts a moment as they joggled in their buoyant
fullness atop the crest of her corset. �You must be Anna,� he smiled. �I
will be piercing your nipples, Anna.� The woman, my former teacher,
blanched.
�But I like my nipples!� she cried. She clapped her fingers to them
and twisted them lightly, feeling already, in her mind, the sensation of
having a needle put through them.
�So does your master,� Ivan answered.
Jasmine had sat in shock for a moment, seated like Tara in a chair of
her own, apart from the men, elegant, diffident. Now she suddenly leapt
up. Long legs flashing, she ran across the room to Ivan and knelt down in
front of him. Her hair tumbled over her face, down her back, blonde as
mine. �Please don�t pierce my sex!� she cried. Her eyes brimmed with
tears.
�If you fear it most, it must be done, my dear,� Ivan answered her
calmly.
�Will you use pain medicine?� Jasmine asked, her voice quavering.
�No,� Ivan answered. �That would take all the fun out of it.�
Ivan looked at me next, sitting uncomfortably atop Stalin�s very
insistent bulge in his trousers.
�You will receive a test branding,� he said to me. �Within the
cheeks of your bottom, either side of your anus, just holding the brand a
second to your skin to see what it will look like when your master
decides, if he decides, to brand you permanently as his own first true
love.�
I gasped. My teeth began to chatter and Stalin helpfully put his
finger between them to stop me. With his other hand he still held my
waist firmly, perhaps afraid I might leap up and try to run away.
�Will-will it hurt?� I asked, getting Stalin�s finger from my mouth
and finding the courage to form the words with my nervous tongue and
lips.
�What do you think a hot brand on your bare bottom will feel like?�
Ivan smiled. �Not once, but twice?�
�Not good,� I replied.
�But it will be good, because the alternative would be to get a
permanent brand, so it�s all in how you see it, obeying or not,� Ivan smiled.
His eyes looked wicked.
�How about for a little squirt like her?� Rachel�s lover asked.
Rachel wasn�t kicking her legs anymore, but lay frozen over the man�s lap,
fear in her eyes. She�d dropped her squirtgun, hadn�t noticed. It lay upon
the floor, waiting for someone to inadvertently step on it.
�She will have a post driven through her tongue, from which leashes
can be hung,� Ivan answered. Rachel�s eyes bulged. She stuck her tongue
out, considering, her mouth wide.
�My tongue?!� Rachel asked. It seemed the perfect answer for her, I
thought to myself, even as I sat steeped in fear. She was always talking,
this would make her a little more controllable, perhaps.
�And your ass must be widened,� Ivan continued. �Nothing major.
You�ll just have something up it the whole time we�re here, to help you
learn to take penises better. �Test borings,� I call them, �Or �training
dongs.� You�ll feel stretched, but you won�t really be stretched or anything
when we�re done. You�ll just have a better sense of how to take a cock up
your ass, since you�ll have one embedded in you the whole time. You�ll
have to learn how to sit, stand, walk around with it in you. It will help
when your master wants you that way. He says you�re too resistent, it
takes too long for him to settle you down and insert himself.�
Rachel lay with wide, disbelieving eyes over her Russian lover, her
ass pertly pointed up at him, her childish cheeks quivering with her every
trembling movement. They were like twin mounds of vanilla jello, firm
but soft. The Russian slapped her bottom. �Youch!� Rachel cried. She
straightened her firehat, still trying to keep her composure, like the rest
of us were, despite the frightful prescriptions master had written for us.
�First, you will all service us, with your mouths,� Ivan ordered. �Do
good work, or we may deviate from your master�s plan, and I think it�s
demanding enough as it is. So, for your own sake, suck me good or my
hands will tremble during your operations, as will those of my comrades
here. I will not handle the brands, or the anal insertions. Don�t leave us
desperate or vindictive, girls!� He unzipped himself then, offering us a
view of an impressive Russian penis. His comrades did likewise. Jasmine,
the nearest, began immediately to suck Ivan�s sex organ. Her mouth and
hands were imploring, as if asking him to reconsider her piercing. He
stroked her long hair, admiring her handiwork, but said nothing as to
sparing her.
We worked like she-devils, all of us girls, sucking each of the men
as much as he asked. Intermittently we�d stop and serve them more,
drinks, light more cigars for them. Hors d'oeuvres were made available to
fill their bellies and, to the extent we could eat at all, our own. When all
the men were at last satisfied the five of us females had slick faces and
sticky fingers. Ivan refused to let us wash but said the piercings must
proceed at once.
Tara was put up on a table and her legs spread. We girls held her
ankles wide apart. She shivered as she had her shift pinned up by Ivan.
Her sex lay bare for him. Softly he massaged her clitty a little, to ease
her pain by releasing some endorphins. Watching from above, she told him
how to touch her to increase her pleasure.
�Not right on it, but brush your finger around it,� she said of her
clit, her teeth chattering a little a she spoke. Rachel and I trembled as we
held her legs open.
�Here, bite on this,� Ivan said at last, offering Tara a rubber bit
from his doctor�s bag, which now lay open on the table beside Tara�s hip.
Tara took the bit between her teeth. I saw that she was visibly shaking.
Rachel�s lover stroked her bottom, holding a big rubber shaft and waiting
for a chance to insert it. Rachel hung on for dear life to Tara�s ankle,
hoping that as long as she was needed for Tara�s operation she could not
be impaled. Anna and Jasmine sat on a man�s lap, hugging each other. They
watched with fearful eyes.
Ivan looked at Tara. His gaze was deep. He lifted a hand and rustled
the expensive earring dangling from her right ear. �Do you remember when
you were a little girl, getting your ears pierced?� Ivan asked her.
�Yes, and it hurt!� Tara mumbled over her gag. Though we could not
hear her words distinctly, we could easily guess what she�d said.
�This is the piercing you must have now that you are a woman. It
will complete you,� Ivan answered. I saw the men stare, fascinated, at
Tara�s open sex. Quite a few of them were hard again, their members
confined once more inside their pants, despite our best efforts earlier to
completely empty them. �I want you to know that you have perhaps the
prettiest pussy I�ve ever pierced,� Ivan told her. I couldn�t tell whether
she was reassured, or frightened by that. �Here goes.�
�Yeeeekch!� Tara screamed over her bit. I lifted my hand and pressed
it hard between her lips, for I saw she would otherwise drop it. For
several long seconds Ivan worked, driving the pin through her inner sex,
her most intimate part, the clitoral hood itself, where she would soon be
adorned with erotic jewelry that would tease her clitty all day, even when
she went out with master.
Tara fainted and a man caught her, propped her up. Ivan finished his
work upon her. He wiped up the small amount of blood he�d drawn with his
pin and waved smelling salts under Tara�s nose.
�That�s all for today,� he told her. �Get us some more drinks.� The
cruel men made Tara herself serve them, though they had Rachel and I
accompany her, lest she should topple over on her heels from the fright of
her ordeal. Twice we had to pass smelling salts under her nose to keep
her alert. Tara served each man in turn, walking to the bar to prepare each
drink specially. Her shift was kept pinned up so the men could admire the
temporary light-steel ringlets that dangled down, chain-like, from her
pierced sex. A tiny bell hung at the end of the chain and it tinkled softly
as she walked.
�Now bend over your friend and insert this for us,� Ivan told Tara
when all the men had been given drinks. He handed her a small chastity
belt, made of slim strips of leather. It protected by offering small loops
where an inserted dildo could be fastened and held. No man would be able
to enter a girl done up this way, at least not without first removing the
belt. For Rachel, though, only her hiney hole was to be �protected.� Tara
and I fitted Rachel into the little belt. It consisted of two parts. The
first was a strip that went around her waist, like a belt. The second,
accompanying strip went down through her bottom crack, then under her
and up over her pubic mound to attach again to the belt. It was essentially
a g-string that we fitted her into, though at her vulva and again at her
hiney hole there was a loop of leather through which a dildo might be
thrust and fastened. Getting her into the belt, we then unceremoniously
bent her over. Her hat fell onto the rug. I put my hands between her sweet
booted legs and vented them apart. Tara prised open her bottom cheeks
with her fingers, gripping the girl hard, as if to get back at her for holding
her ankles apart for Ivan.
�Shove it in,� Tara told me, tossing her hair, a determined look on
her face.
�Owowwooo!� Rachel howled, as I pushed in the dildo. Tara and I had
lubed it with vaseline, a minor detail the men hadn�t thought of.
�Learn! Learn to take it!� Tara admonished Rachel, anticipating the
girl�s moans of complaint.
�Oh, take it out, no, no, it�s going too far up!� she bleated. I drove
the penis in deeper, not wishing to delay the men�s departure any longer
than necessary.
�Quiet, Rachel! We�re almost done for today. We just need to get
this up you!� I said, as the girl wriggled her hips and tried to push my
dildo back out with clenchings of her sweet cheeks. I was a little peeved
at her. Tara had been pierced, all Rachel needed to do was relax and let me
force this up her. The men laughed. They enjoyed seeing the little firegirl
get her butt plugged. At last, with much huffing and puffing, waiting for
her to relax, but trying to hurry her also, I managed to get the long dildo
all the way up her ass. She shivered when she realized it was done. I
fastened the dildo into the loop provided. Tara released the cheeks of
Rachel�s bottom. They closed springily, but there was an odd blunt object
holding them open right where her shit was meant to pop out. Rachel
stood, unsteadily, Tara and I on either side of her to make sure she didn�t
fall. When she was unbent and upright again, she passed her finger through
her hair, which had fallen over her eyes.
�Hi,� she giggled, staring at the men, who she�d just mooned for
many minutes while I stuffed her with the dildo.
�Do not take that off her except when she absolutely has to shit,�
Ivan told Tara. �And for short baths. The rest of the time she is to wear
it inside her, feeling the fullness of it, accustoming herself to the length
and width of a male penis. Her master will expect to take her easily there
when he returns.�
�Yes, sir,� Tara replied. She saluted him dumbly, unsure how else to
respond. He smiled, she smiled winsomely back at him. Her sex chain
dangled alluringly.
Led by Ivan, the men got up and left. Anxiously Tara waved goodbye
to them from the doorway. She did not wish to see them displeased. They
might return, at any moment. We could not keep that many men out of the
house, no matter how we might lock the door. Nonetheless, when they�d
pulled from the drive, Tara, who stood coyly just inside the door hoping
not to be seen from the street, shed her smile quick as she�d found it and
slammed the door.
�Ohhh, what have they done to me?!� she moaned. We had gradually
gathered round her and now we rushed her back to the table upon which
she�d so recently been pierced and sat her upon it. We pulled open her
legs, her sex, all of us gazing at it with worried, baleful eyes.
�Oh, God!� Jasmine blurted. She was to have a similar procedure
done in the morning, through her inner labial lip. She cupped herself with
her palm, squeezing herself protectively, even as she stared at poor Tara.
�That does it for me!� Rachel announced, after long minutes of
staring. She grabbed the buckle at the back of her chastity belt. She
fumbled with it. The buckle was in the small of her back and she could not
see it. Tara, who was wiping her eyes, looked up from herself.
�No!� Tara said. She lifted a tear-wettened finger and motioned for
us to stop Rachel.
�But--� I said, for I was drifting close to Rachel to help her out of
the awful gear.
�I will not see master disobeyed while I am still in charge,� Tara
said. �She will wear it just as the men instructed, and I�ll belt anyone
who gets her out of it.� Tara looked straight at the little blonde. �I�ll
lock you into it if I catch you being disobedient,� she said. �Someday
you�ll be pregnant, and do you think you�ll be able to pop the growing baby
in and out of you whenever you wish? This is practise for you, Rachel.
Learn to bear it and feel it inside you.�
Rachel turned and stomped off in her firehat and yellow boots. I saw
someone had stepped on her squirtgun and it lay smashed upon the floor.
She noticed, picked it up, began bawling.
�Shhh,� I said, coming close. �Master will buy you another.�
�He can�t buy me a new BUTThole!� she groused weepily. She tried
twirling the broken gun on her finger but the broken plastic scratched her,
almost made her bleed.
�It�s for playing being pregnant in,� I consoled her, patting her on
the hiney. Her cheeks looked especially cute bulging nakedly out on either
side of the tight strap that split them, and the fake cock that wedged
deeply up her.
�I wish I could give birth right now, to this thing!� Rachel said. She
yanked futilely at the cock in her ass.
The afternoon sun was heading west when we filtered outside that
afternoon. We�d decided to pass the time by the pool. Jasmine still wore
her bikini with the convenient hole in the crotch. She proclaimed she�d
found it useful for peeing. Tara wore a bikini top modestly over her
breasts, but a bottom was out of the question, with the chain dangling
down from her sex. She went bottomless, her ass jiggling naked and white
in the sun, her pussy showing boldly, matching her lovely raven hair.
Anna, now free of her corset, after much laborious untying, walked
about with a bikini bottom on but no top. She seemed overwhelmed by the
idea that in just a few short hours her nipples would be pierced. As if to
spare them even the slightest restraint on their natural inborn freedom,
she let them wiggle naked in the warm afternoon sunshine. They seemed
perpetually erect, no doubt from her agitation at their intended fate. She
looked at them often and touched them sometimes, as one might touch a
foreign object, though she�d had them, of course, from birth. I watched
her and wished she might not be pierced yet the thought intrigued me. Her
bosoms were so big and beautiful, so bountiful. How might they look
pierced, with a little gold chain hanging between the fine teats,
connecting them. And how would she give milk someday? I knew women
were pierced, almost routinely these days, but when they gave birth did
they squirt milk in three directions from each nipple? I wanted to sit
with Anna and talk about it, but instead I let her be, worrying over her
nipples, and played in the pool with Rachel.
My former teacher, wearing her ponytail but otherwise naked, played
somewhat self-consciously in the pool. It must have been hard for her,
having a big dildo rammed up her ass. She�d already claimed to have to
poop once, and gotten it off, only to sit under a scowling Tara on the toilet
as absolutely nothing came out. Tara had fitted her back into the chastity
belt and rammed the dildo back up not too pleasantly.
Jasmine fixed us drinks as the hours passed and we deliberately
drank ourselves silly. Tara and Rachel to forget, the rest of us to stop
worrying. As the sun went down we turned in early. The men had made us
promise not to masturbate. Tara tied us each into bed, wrapping a cord
round the wrists and securing them to the headboard. When morning came,
she got up and found that each of us had peed in bed, unable to leave the
bed to go to the toilet. Together we bundled up the sheets and took them
down to the washroom.
The morning was spent in nervous anticipation. We did our hair, our
makeup, checked each other to make sure we looked perfect. Anything less
than the best might anger the men. At last, anxious and dressed as before,
we settled in round the piano in the parlor. I sat plinking in my torn,
seatless bikini on the piano keys. The silence was deafening between the
isolated notes. At last the doorbell buzzed into the silence, breaking our
daydreaming and announcing our guests.
Tara went to the door. She opened it and smiled with anxious eyes.
She lifted the hem of her shift and displayed her sex, made more
pronounced by the chain which dangled in flashing splendor from it. I
gasped as I saw a female hand reach in and gently lift the chain to
examine it. Was there a girl among the men today? How embarrassing!
�Are they capable of breeding and giving milk?� I heard a throaty
female voice ask.
�They have all been blooded,� I heard Ivan reply. �As for giving
birth, they are all on the pill.�
�Well, this one looks healthy enough,� I heard the woman reply. �I�m
sure my husband could sire us a baby on her. But show me the rest,
anyhow.�
Tara stepped back, visibly frightened at our unknown guest. Ivan
stepped in with the other men. They made a large assemblage inside the
entryway. �They are in the process of being marked by their master for
his permanent possession,� Ivan said. He led the woman toward us. She
wore a fashionable open vest, a blouse, a knee-length dress, high heels.
She seemed busy, as if she could spare us just the most fleeting of
moments, perhaps on her way from a luncheon to a seminar, or to some
company she ran. Yet her eyes, finding us, settling on us each in turn,
seemed to linger. I felt uncomfortable under her gaze.
�Squat down again, pee,� Ivan ordered Tara. Gulping with discomfort
at the thought of it, especially in front of this new, strange lady, Tara
nonetheless complied. Her chain dangled down from her sex and curled its
tip upon the rug.
�You are not as free as yesterday, are you?� Ivan taunted her. Today
when you pee your urine will hit the chain, and run down it. You will stand
with your own pee dripping from it, and have to wipe the chain as well as
yourself. Yesterday you were a free young woman, carefree even, today
you are pierced, married by the chain to your master, and he is not even
here to admire it. Now you have a taste of womanhood, true womanhood,
of the woman who sits at home with children while her husband,
forgetting her, looks at someone like you down at the strip bar, or in
Playboy.�
�Don�t!� Tara cried out. She put a hand to her eyes as they brimmed
over with tears. Ivan strode over to her.
�Your peehole is to give the water, not your eyes!�
�Oh, please sir!� she cried. She clapped her hands to her bottom, for
it looked as if he was about to kick her right in her hiney with the pointed
toe of his boot.
�Go, pee now, show Ms. Tuppence how healthy you are,� Ivan snarled.
Trembling, Tara let out a small stream of pee. She watched as it
puddled on the floor beneath her, after first ensnarling itself in her sexual
chain.
�Is that all?� Ms. Tuppence asked. �Have her drink. I wish to see a
good, healthy pee from her before I make my final decision.�
Ivan yanked Tara up by her hair. He pushed our long-legged hostess
ahead of himself into the parlor. �Get yourself sloshed,� he told her.
�Drink and drink and drink until you pee properly! And wipe off that chain
of yours with champagne or something. I don�t wish to smell your urine,
except where its been peed on the rug.� We�d sprayed rug cleaner on the
spot when the men had left. I glanced at Rachel. Should I offer to go get
the rug cleaner now? I didn�t want to speak up, lest I get singled out for
rough treatment by Ivan. He seemed in an angry mood today.
The men settled in around us. I remained perched on the piano stool,
with Rachel, wearing her firehat, standing beside me. Anna was put upon a
man�s lap. Jasmine was left to sit alone. She�d picked a small, single
chair and sat in it, hoping not to share it. It seemed too narrow for the big
Russian men to fit into, even if they chose to put her on their lap. It
belonged to the writing desk sitting in the corner of the parlor. Tara went
to the bar and got a bottle of champagne and opened it and wet a linen
handkerchief with it. She stood lifting and wiping her sex chain, much
like a man might wipe his own cock. Her hair hung long and lovely round
her eyes, down her back, over her slim white shoulders. I wanted to run to
her and console her and get her out of that awful, sex piercing chain. But I
could do nothing. I sat as quietly as I could.
�Her, let me feel her belly,� Ms. Tuppence ordered, seated beside
Ivan on a couch. She pointed to Jasmine. Two Russian men got up and
brought the young female over to Ms. Tuppence. �Ah, I see your bikini is
most naughty,� Ms. Tuppence said admiringly, noticing the hole cut right
where Jasmine�s sex was, letting it pout through the fabric. She stroked
the small little lips of Jasmine�s cunt. �A bit small, don�t you think? Ah,
men like small pussies but I must see a child birthed through it. Do you
think you could give birth, darling?� Ms. Tuppence asked Jasmine.
�I don�t want to,� Jasmine replied frankly. Her face was ashen. She
was not at all interested in having Ms. Tuppence examine her, especially in
such an intimate way.
�That is not an answer,� Ms. Tuppence replied coldly. �Turn around.�
With great reluctance Jasmine let herself be turned so that she faced Ms.
Tuppence with her backside. Without so much as asking permission, Miss
Tuppence yanked down Jasmine�s bikini panties, all the way to her knees.
Jasmine looked and felt very vulnerable indeed, with her bare ass sticking
itself right into that strange woman�s face. Ms. Tuppence opened
Jasmine�s ass with clinical fingers and peered at her hiney hole.
�Madam, I--� Jasmine began, and suddenly I heard it. A delicate
little fart issued from her back hole, right into Ms. Tuppence�s nose.
Rachel clapped her hand to her mouth and failed to suppress a gleeful
giggle.
�She is not branded. There is no mark upon her!� Ms. Tuppence said
with an angry voice.
�I was planning to do a test brand on that one--� Ivan began,
pointing at me.
�Are these just loose girls? Are they not owned?� Ms. Tuppence
growled. She slapped Jasmine�s ass hard with her hand, making Jasmine
flinch and give up a little yelp. But Jasmine remained planted where she
was, poised on her high heels, for fear of angering Ms. Tuppence further.
She fought momentarily to regain her balance from the ass-slap, steadied,
seemed to breathe to herself a determination to remain calm.
�Get me some vaseline,� Ms. Tuppence ordered. Ivan looked at Tara.
Our hostess swallowed, ran to a desk in the corner, opened it, took out a
jar of vaseline and hurried over to Ms. Tuppence with it. �I have a farm, on
the outskirts of Buenos Aires,� Ms. Tuppence said absently, dipping her
finger into the jar. She twirled her long finger around in it, coating it
thoroughly. �Open your friend,� Ms. Tuppence told Tara. Our hostess bent
forward slightly and took hold of Jasmine�s ass. Jasmine flinched. Tara
spread her hinds so that Ms. Tuppence could stick her finger up Jasmine�s
ass.
�It is a sex farm, really, though I do keep a few head of cattle and
some sheep there,� Ms. Tuppence continued. She poked at Jasmine�s nether
hole, found it tight. Jasmine grimaced. Tara seemed to whisper in her ear
to behave, not to fight the inevitable, lest we all be punished for it. Ms.
Tuppence stuck her finger into Jasmine�s hiney and pushed inward
exploringly. �See, she is quite tight, really. You�d think she�d hardly been
fucked back here. On my sex farm these girls would be worked properly.
They would milk my cows for me as practise for giving milk themselves.
They would see calves birthed, and discuss birthing techniques with my
midwife. My husband could sire many children for us on these girls, or I
could sell them to others, perhaps. We have auctions sometimes.� All
this was said as Ms. Tuppence made her way deeper and deeper in between
Jasmine�s clenching cheeks. Tara, looking quite disturbed, kept the girl�s
ass dutifully open as Ms. Tuppence probed her.
�Madam, I do not own these girls, I--� Ivan began.
�They are not branded. Only one is pierced, and more for show than
for ownership, I�d say, given how sexy she looks with that chain in her,�
Ms. Tuppence answered. �Girls like these belong to no one. You have
fifteen men here, I will pay you to transport them to my farm. Let their
�master� get them back if he can. I am well defended by men of my own.�
I felt a shiver go down my spine, saw one shoot down Tara�s spine
and tremble her buttocks even as my own felt squeamish, almost as if I
might shit right on the velvet piano stool. None of us wore panties, except
for Jasmine, and hers were pulled down. We would make quite a mess if
we all shitted in fear suddenly.
�We did not even fuck the girls yesterday, for fear of their master,�
Ivan told Ms. Tuppence.
�You are departing soon, are you not?� Ms. Tuppence asked Ivan.
�Leave a little early. Russia is far away. If you had fucked these girls,
their master would be angry with you. But if I steal them, he will be
angry with me, and I am much closer than you. He will come after me
first, to get them back, if nothing else. Worry about yourselves after I�m
gone.� She looked meaningfully at Ivan. �And I won�t ever be gone, I can
assure you. Their master has been a pest to me in the drug trade, but now
I am going to steal his girls and overturn his empire. He is the old way of
doing things, discreet, quiet. I am the new way. I take what I want, and I
need these girls, all of them. I will fuck them and make them give birth
for my husband. And I will sell them when I have their babies. Or perhaps
before, who knows? They irritate me as much as they please me, they are
all so beautiful. Get them, bring them. I expect complete obedience.� She
rose, looked at Ivan. She saw that he was resisting her. �But first, show
that you are men yourselves. Fuck them. When you are done fucking them,
bring them to me. Do not damage them, mind. But give them all a good
fucking to loosen them up and make them not be so tight. Or at least try.
You have big Russian cocks, do you not? No more of this playing you told
me about yesterday. Get out your cocks and screw them. Right up the
pussy, and in the ass too. Tomorrow I will take them off the pill to
prepare them for my husband. Today, they are yours. But be quick. I find
that dalliance breeds disaster. Come in them, then come to me, with them
in tow.� Ceasing her soliloquy, the woman strode to the door and let
herself out. I thought I heard the twin dogs outside whine as they saw her
pass, protected, for she was parked near enough to the door to avoid the
dogs. Yet they seemed to crouch at her passing, fearfully, lest she have
them fucked too.
The men rose. They had determined looks on their face. They did not
wait for a command for Ivan. They came to us, grabbed us. Rachel was out
of her chastity belt faster than she could say �fire.� But just as quickly
she was forced to entertain an even bigger dong in her ass. And the rest of
us. Screaming, we succumbed. When we were finally bundled into the
Russian�s van we were a well-spermed lot of wenches, weeping, stricken
with panic, hurting in our insides where man after man had had his way.
30
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