[Editor�s Note: You probably heard about the U.S. Troops going to
Bosnia. But here�s a story you won�t get from the wire services. A
Dreamgirls exclusive!]
Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
�Sarajevo Sexfest�
Chapter One
I had just finished up my semester at college when I got the call. My
student job, with PCorps, was moving. My job was going to Bosnia, of all
places, and did I want to come?
�Who else will be going?� I asked over the phone.
�The whole office is pretty much being broken up and sent all over
the place,� my staff sergeant answered. �You�ll be thrown in with new
people, all of you new to each other. It will be frantic, no doubt about it,
trying to do logistics for U.S. personnel in the middle of Sarajevo. The
place is a mess.�
�Well, I guess it would make for an interesting Christmas,� I
answered, and with that I accepted. My staff sergeant was always quick
to take �yes� for an answer, however tentatively it was expressed.
Personnel Corps (since renamed by us the Pussy and Penis Corps)
arrived in Sarajevo. Everyone I met was new. We worked frantically for
days. There was hardly any free time at all. And then, suddenly, it was
the day before Christmas Eve. Someone had suggested a party. We�d all
agreed. An office party would be just the thing to refresh us and lift our
spirits.
�It�s going to be themed, �The Good Boys and Bad Girls Office Party,�
a girl told me in the ladies bathroom. She gave me all the details, which
sent my head spinning. Some girl had a very naughty brain. I wasn�t sure I
wanted to attend, after hearing what was in the works. Soon after I met
my favorite guy, a U.S. Colonel who was one of the higher-ranking men
assigned to our office. It was a strange mixture, a lot of ranks had been
thrown in together for their needed talents, with little regard being paid
to rank.
�Why are you so worried?� he asked in his fatherly way. He was on
the cusp of 40, with just a touch of grey in his hair. �I�m sure its mostly
just crazy fun.�
�They say if you�ve never been, never been--� I couldn�t get it out of
my mouth, the words were so new to me.
�A bad girl?� he smiled.
�Then you have to be.�
�Well, if it needs to be done, I�ll do it for you,� he replied. �Does
that make you happy?�
�Yes,� I answered. I pressed myself to his chest, as I done several
times in the past couple of days. �And do it in private,� I added. �So no
one will see.�
�In private,� he answered. He ran his hand down the soft mane of my
blonde hair and onto my back. Then he lifted his other palm and gently
cupped my fanny. With little effort he found the tail of my skirt and
slipped his hands beneath. I gasped as his palms found the proud orb of my
bottom.
�Mmmm, cotton panties,� he said. His voice broke as he said it. �Did
you know you�re young enough to be my daughter?�
�I know,� I answered.
�You�ve been wearing shorter and shorter skirts these last few
days,� he gently scolded me.
�Mmmm,� I acknowledged. I pressed my small face deeper into his
broad girth of chest. I found my fingers gripping to his shirt as if it were
a cliff face that I might fall off of.
�Your panties only cover half your bottom!� he discovered suddenly,
his voice croaking a little. It was as if he were discovering the
deficiencies of his own daughter�s underwear, the way he said it. His
finger explored the top of my panties and then slipped beyond, into the
groove of my pumpkin. He shuddered a moment, as if surprised at himself
for suddenly having a finger in the ass of a girl half his age. I think he
blamed me for it.
�You�re already naughty,� he whispered to me.
�I know,� I breathed. I kissed his chest. He lifted his hand and gave
my bottom a little slap. I bounced under the blow, over-reacting by far,
but it seemed to strike into my very core.
�Did you wear them for me?� he asked suddenly.
�Perhaps,� I answered. I found my thumb and stuck it into my mouth.
�If I see you dropping lots of stuff on the floor today, in front of the
other guys, I�m going to take charge of your morals, just like I would my
own daughters�,� he warned me.
I pressed myself closer to him. Close as I could. �Whatever you say,
sir,� I answered.
He pushed me back from him. His hands returned to my waist, held
me chastely there. He looked down at me, into my eyes. �I�m serious,� he
said to me.
�I know you are,� I answered. �That�s why you�re my best friend.� I
circled my finger over his starched shirt. I longed to open it. �Because
you�re older than me, and very serious, and you work very hard, and devote
your life totally to the Army.�
�That�s enough,� he replied. He pushed me back, clearly unsettled. I
saw that his pants were bulging hugely, bigger than any man�s I�d ever
seen. I gazed at him, my breasts filling my tight blouse, big as melons. I
straightened my skirt with my hands.
�We still have a lot of work to do,� he said, all business-like again.
�Get those reports off to General Lampkins.�
�Okay, sir,� I smiled.
�And quit calling me �sir,�� he scolded me. �You�re a civilian.�
�Mmmm, I like it,� I teased. I turned to go. �Bye, bye, sir.�
�Not for as long as you�d like,� he threatened. His hands fingered his
belt buckle. �You�re lucky you�re not my daughter.�
�I know,� I answered. I blew him a kiss before I disappeared around
the hall.
***
The staff sergeant for our newly assembled PCorps was a woman.
She told me that evening that tomorrow�s party, after a few hours of
work, was going to be styled a �Punishment Party.� There were about 20
of us in PCorps, in our own, hastily-rehabbed building.
�Well, I don�t like the name,� I said. �Whatever happened to �Good
Boys and Bad Girls?�
�That�s the name of the party,� she answered. She was very
beautiful for a staff sergeant, a tall, big-bosomed redhead. But she had a
fierceness about her that scared me sometimes. �The type of party that it
is is a punishment party. Don�t worry, just do what I tell you. You�ll have
a lot of fun. I can see you�ve never been to one before.� She grinned at me,
cat-like.
�Well, I could use a break from all this work,� I mused. I fingered
the hem of my dress.
�Don�t be such a goody-goody girl,� the staff sergeant, whose name
was Linda, replied. �It�s a bad girl party, and I expect you to be a little
bad, at least.�
The next morning I got up early. I thanked God when I found the
shower to be giving hot water. I did my hair after bathing, brushing it
until it had a luster and sheen I hadn�t bothered to give it in many days of
relentless work here in Sarajevo. I pinned it up, loosely, to give it a
slightly more formal appearance. Then I applied my makeup and lipstick
as carefully as I could. Time was short, there was a big pile of logistics
work that had to be gotten through before we could have our party. I left
for the office, escorted by two servicemen who walked with me the short
distance from my flat to the building where we all worked.
About noontime a tiny tangle of fabric was deposited on my desk. I
looked up, saw Linda.
�What�s this?� I asked. My thoughts were far away, on some
gasoline drums that were stuck in Croatia.
�It�s what you�ll be wearing to the party,� she answered. �Put it
on.�
�What?� I gasped. I picked up the little pile of strings and looked at
it. It was a teensy bikini panty, smaller even than the naughty undies the
Colonel had caught me wearing.
�I�m not sure I want to wear this under my dress. It looks so small
that it might be uncomfortable.�
Linda laughed. Her breasts heaved with her laughter and I saw that
today she wasn�t wearing any bra under her green army uniform. �Go to
the ladies room and take everything off,� she said. �Come back wearing
that, nothing else. There�s a hamper in there for your clothes. Sorry, but
there aren�t really any hangers around here to hang things up. Anyway, I
want to make sure all the girls� clothes are put away. We�re going to lock
the hamper afterwards, to make sure.�
I didn�t know what to say. I just stared at the panties. Then the
Colonel walked by. He stopped at my desk. There was a knowing look on
his face.
�I at least need a bra,� I said in a half-whisper to Linda.
�No you don�t, dear. It�s a punishment party. What better way to
show your vulnerability to the men by greeting them with your breasts
bare, and your tender nipples stiff? If they find you unpleasant, or
unwilling, they can always tweak them for you, to improve your behavior.�
I watched the Colonel walk on to his office. �What will the men be
wearing?� I asked.
�Their best uniforms, of course,� she answered. �Now march your
ass into the bathroom and be back here on the double.� She rounded the
corner of my desk, hefted me from my seat, and gave me an all-too-
friendly slap on my fanny. I looked at her accusingly. �Sue me for sexual
harassment, sister,� she answered. I saw that I had no choice but to go
change, or go run home to my flat and spend Christmas by myself. I
gulped, and headed for the bathroom.
Several other girls were already there.
�I can barely get this thing on!� one girl complained. She was nude,
standing on the tiled floor in her best heels, and trying to adjust the
mischievous bits of fabric so they at least left something to the
imagination.
�At least the back isn�t a thong,� a second girl said. She glanced
over her shoulder and carefully pulled the material of her panties as wide
as she could, managing to cover a good two-thirds of her heinie.
�Try walking in them. They�ll bunch up in your ass-crack in no
time,� a third girl said ruefully. �Lisa! Get your things off, dear. The
party�s almost ready to start!� she urged me.
�I need a break,� the first girl said. She�d finally made her peace
with the panties. She smoothed her hands across her flat belly. �Maybe I
can get pregnant and get out of this war.�
�Don�t tell the colonel,� the second girl replied. �He�ll make sure
you only get fucked up the ass if you let on you want out.�
�I�m getting it right up my cunt,� the third girl announced. She
turned to the bathroom mirror and gave her hair a quick brush. Her nude
boobs bounced springily. She was no more than 20, a new enlistee. Rumor
had it she�d slipped through boot camp as effortlessly as a knife slicing
butter, thanks to a friendship that kept her �tied up� in office training,
away from the rigors of the parade ground. I think there were a few girls
in our unit who�d gotten special passes through boot camp, for their arms
were a slim as their breasts were big, and they couldn�t lift anything more
than I could.
�Well, I�m not so sure about all this,� a smaller girl answered. She
cupped her firm breasts and felt their weight on her palms. �I�m only 16,
you know. I ran away from home and got signed into the army by a nice
sergeant who didn�t make me do anything. I just got assigned here, though
my paperwork shows that I spent 16 weeks at Ft. Stomper.�
�You had an easier time than me, then,� I teased her. I lifted off my
blouse and unhooked my bra. �I had to trek all the way down to the
student-aid office and fill out a whole page of information to get this
job.� I liked her the best, I think, of all the girls, though I was two years
older than her. She was young and naive, like me. Her name was Elizabeth,
but everyone called her Missy.
The girl at the mirror turned and gave Missy a slap on the rear with
her hairbrush. �You�re in the army now, honey. You�ll get your training one
way or another.� Her name was Sally. As missy assuaged her wounded
bottom Sally turned her about and led her out. �Come on, darling,� Sally
ordered.
�See you at the party,� the remaining girl told me. She leaned
forward and kissed me lightly on the lips. Her name was Chantra, an
Indian name. It matched her dark hair, though her skin was as white as
mine.
�Okay,� I answered. Neatly I folded my clothes and then plopped
them in the hamper. I found Sally�s hairbrush, quickly repaired my own
locks, and departed.
The thing about wearing such small panties is that they didn�t quite
cover the whiteness of my skin that usually lay beneath my bathing suit.
As I entered the special office reserved for our party, I felt self-
conscious at how my Florida suntan contrasted so noticeably with my
semi-visible bunny-tail bottom.
�I see you didn�t get a large enough size again,� the colonel said
laughingly to me. I saw him, blushed, tugged at the back of my panties.
Already they had snuck partway into the furrow of my bottom, making me
even more visible in behind. He reached down and traced a finger over my
white skin that was on display in front, where my beach bikini would have
more modestly covered me.
�I�m doing my best, sir,� I answered. �This party wasn�t my idea,
you know. In fact, if I had my way, I�d take off these danged panties right
now, they�re such a nuisance.�
�Yes,� he grinned. I blushed again.
�I mean, to put my skirt back ON,� I added hastily.
�Given your poor choice of panty sizes, I guess it�s just as well you
didn�t try for a matching bra,� the colonel mused. As freely as if I were
his wife he put his hands to my breasts and rolled my tense nipples
between his fingers.
I raised my hand to slap him for his forwardness. Linda, stepping up
onto a desk in her heels, interrupted my intention by ringing a little bell.
Her uniform was gone, she wore only the de rigueur panties, her own as
small and useless as mine were. I saw the cupping of her snatch where
her panties made themselves useful on her otherwise nude body. Linda�s
bounteous breasts shook with her ringing of the bell. Her red hair bounced
gaily, she seemed in an exceptionally good mood.
�Girls, and gentlemen. Don�t feel too smug, guys. You�re forbidden to
take out your equipment in the party room, which I�m sure will make you
quite uncomfortable. It�s intended to. This is a punishment party for both
sexes, not just us females. We�re going to celebrate Christmas the old
fashioned way, like back in the 1800�s, when Santa�s purpose wasn�t just
to bring toys for good children. He also brought a switch for bad children,
and used it, so they�d be good next year.� The little crowd of men in
uniforms and almost-naked girls gathered around Linda as she spoke. The
room was large, festooned with ornaments from the U.S., with a big
Christmas tree in one corner, that had yet to be decorated. �We�ll be
trimming the tree together,� Linda continued. �We girls who
surreptitiously decked out this room during the last few days didn�t have
time to get to everything, so we saved the tree as a special party treat. I
hope you men don�t mind giving us a hand on this. We�ll need your help if
we�re to get all those trimmings right up to the top of the tree, not to
mention putting a star atop it. And since we�re bad girls, we�ll be rubbing
your crotches whenever we can, right through until the tree is trimmed,
which should take some time, I�m sure. You�ll probably cream in your
pants, men, so don�t fight it. It�s a punishment party, after all. I just
hope you can re-fill for the favors that you�ll want to give us later in the
evening. I�ve ordered lots of eggnog, to help out. Drink and be merry.� She
rang the bell again, as if to bring her remarks to a formal conclusion. A
kind of stunned silence reigned over the men a moment, shocked that they
would be put in the predicament of sperming their own uniforms. And then
somebody turned up the music, and the festivities began.
At the colonel�s encouragement I circulated as freely in the room as
the other girls did. The men fondled me as I stood exchanging small talk
with them, or with other girls. And, like the other females, I took the
liberty of massaging each man�s crotch. It was more fun that I could
imagine, knowing he couldn�t unzip himself, and was scared to death of
cumming in his pants. Every time a man came he was given a celebratory
splash of eggnog in the face. When I got back to the colonel he was
trembling on the brink of his own ejaculation. Missy was working his
crotch, absently, a finger in her mouth.
�Well, I liked the Little Mermaid movie best when I was little...� she
was saying absently, pursuing some train of thought that held no interest
for me but apparently captivated the colonel.
�Missy,� I said to her. �Go get some eggnog. I think our friend here
is about to cum in his pants.�
�Okay,� she answered naively. She did not realize that while she
was getting the eggnog I would have the pleasure of finishing him off. She
turned and headed off for the drinks table. I saw that her panties were
completely wedged inside her cute little ass. The colonel watched her
retreating bottom with awestruck eyes.
�It�s time I bring you off before you get the idea of porking an
underage minor,� I told him. I grasped his bulging crotch and squeezed it
hard.
�I already have it,� he answered.
�What? You�ve cum already?� I asked. There was disappointment in
my voice.
�No, I mean I want to fuck that adorable bottom of hers,� he said.
His loins surged toward me as he felt my hand work him, his eyes still
pasted on Missy�s behind.
�Well, let me see if I can fix that,� I said. I rubbed his bulge with
vigor.
�Oh, God, don�t make me do it in my pants,� he said, turning his eyes
to me. �I�m a 40-year-old man. It would be totally humiliating. What if
we get a visit from the general, or get called outside? I haven�t cum in
my pants since I was 13.�
I massaged him relentlessly, unmoved. �Didn�t you know this was
going to be called a �punishment party?�� I asked him.
�Yes, but, I thought --�
�That only us girls would get punished, hmmm?� I asked him.
�Yes,� he croaked. I could see he was truly just moments from
spurting now, unless I quickly unhanded him. I did not.
�Does this make me a bad girl?� I asked him. I felt his loins stir
with a special urgency, and suddenly I sensed wetness within his trousers.
�Yes, it definitely does,� he answered me. Our eyes met. As I
continued to work him our lips came together, me rising on tiptoe, he
leaning down. We kissed passionately as he jetted into his uniform pants.
Taking me by the hand, he led me to a private office. Carefully I�d
kept my panties pretty well covering my behind, but now he turned me
around. He pushed me toward the desk in the small office. �Take down
your panties and climb up on the desk,� he said. His voice was
uncompromising in its tone. I heard him unbuckle his belt behind me.
�Oh, even my father never spanked me!� I pleaded suddenly. I tugged
at the bottom of my panties, unsure.
�I promised you that it would be private, not that it wouldn�t be
done,� he replied. I heard his belt slither out of its belt loops. There was
no need for him to undress. He was soft at the moment, thanks to my
wickedness.
I looked back over my shoulder at him. I ran my fingers over my
seat, grateful suddenly for the fabric, however small, that covered it.
�Can�t it be done with my panties on?� I asked. �It will hurt even more if
I take them off.�
Naughty Naked Dreamgirls (Library of Congress ISSN: 1070-1427) is
copyright 1996 and a trademark of Andrew Roller. draft 1