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Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
SULTRY SPRING
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Chapter One
�You know I would not deny you, Rebecca. You know that, don�t you?�
I heard Sarife say to my aunt. I peeked round the doorway. I sensed they
had not intended to be overheard. Their voices were soft, almost
whispers. My aunt sat poised on the arm of a chair in which Sarife, queen-
like, brooded with a finger under her chin. As always her nails were
impeccably polished. Her long dark hair was piled neatly atop her head and
held in place by gold pins. She looked up at my aunt. My aunt, who had
been looking down at Sarife, now cast her eyes toward the window.
Outside the snow lay thick upon the ground. �Do not turn your head away,�
Sarife scolded. She lifted the finger from beneath her chin and reached
for my aunt�s face. She took hold of my aunt�s chin, her fingers gripping it
like a vise might, and forced my aunt to turn her head so that she again
regarded Sarife. It was windy outside. A gust rustled the branches of the
pine trees in our back yard.
�Do not tease about it, Rebecca,� Sarife said solemnly to my aunt. �I
will not deny you if you ask.�
�Oh, but it will hurt,� my aunt protested, Sarife�s fingers still
gripping her cheeks, compressing them, making my aunt�s words come out
all funny as she spoke them.
�Of course it will hurt, darling. It is meant to,� Sarife said.
�But cannot I be put to sleep for it?� my aunt asked.
Sarife laughed. �What? To sleep?� she asked. �And have it done
like an operation?�
�Yes,� my aunt said, Sarife�s fingers compressing her lips into an O.
�Although you would bear the mark for the rest of your life, it is not
the mark itself that is truly important,� Sarife explained. I listened
intently, absorbing every word. I watched her lips as she spoke. They
moved freely. My aunt�s remained pressed-in by her fingers. �It is the
experience which is to be truly burned in, into your mind,� Sarife said.
�The bottom is only a means to the mind. Because the flesh is burned, you
will of course remember the experience for the rest of your life. And
that�s the sum of it, like I said, the experience. You might chew gum but
who would remember that, since chewing gum is so transitory, and so
easily and effortlessly done. This will require effort, for it is the
voluntariness of it that impresses it most distinctly in the mind. Anyone
might have anything done to them. And for that one cannot always be
responsible. Hmmm?� Sarife asked. My aunt had not spoken. Instead, with
Sarife�s fingers upon her face, she looked as if she wished to kiss. �Nod
your head, darling,� Sarife said, and forced my aunt to nod. �See? You
agree,� Sarife said. �Now as I was saying, in your case, it will be quite
voluntary. Once you arrive there will of course be less chance of changing
your mind, of turning back. That is because there will be men present, and
you know how they are. Men hate to see an opportunity go unexploited. But
even with the men present there still might be some escape for you, for it
will be me, and none other, who applies the brand to your backside.�
I felt my bottomcheeks tense. What in God�s name were they
discussing? A brand?! My hands flew back to my own bottom. I was just
wearing panties, and a t-shirt. I had only awoken in the last few minutes
from bed, though the day had already passed the noon hour.
Sarife let go of my aunt�s face.
�Auntie!� I blurted. �What are you talking about?� I rushed into the
room. I felt my breasts bouncing under my thin shirt. My nipples were
tense, erect. Sarife turned her head and gazed at me. Her eyes were stern,
like those of a teacher whose lesson has been interrupted.
�You should not sleep so late, Chloe,� Sarife said to me.
�I stayed up late last night to watch a movie,� I said. �About India.�
Sarife let a smile cross her lips. She turned once more to my aunt. �Sit
down, Chloe,� Sarife said. I knelt on the floor at her feet.
�Oh, I do not wish for her to hear,� my aunt protested.
�Why? Would she not find out? Perhaps she should attend also, to
watch,� Sarife suggested. She lifted a hand and touched my aunt�s bosoms.
I thought my aunt would draw back but instead she seemed to offer her
tits more fully, so that one of her tits became enclosed in Sarife�s fingers
and the woman tugged on it as if to receive milk from the nipple. My aunt
had a thin t-shirt on, as I did, though she wore a skirt round her waist.
Sarife was dressed in a pantsuit.
Under the palpitation of Sarife�s hand, my aunt�s nipples arose and
poked into her shirt. I watched with baited breath-- how strange it was
to see two women being so intimate!
�It would take place in utmost luxury,� Sarife said. �That is how it
is done in India, if one has the money. There are pillows, and cushions, and
all is softness and good cheer. It is not cruel, the atmosphere, I mean.
Only the brand is cruel, as it must be.�
My aunt looked at her nipples, risen against her shirt. Sarife�s hand
let go of her right bosom and moved to the left one. My aunt licked her
lips.
�Does it excite you, thinking about it?� Sarife asked calmly.
�Yes,� my aunt answered. Her voice was not calm. Neither would
mine have been, if I�d been asked to speak. I could hear my teeth
chattering, and not simply with fright from Sarife�s proposal.
�You need not explicitly agree,� Sarife said. �I shall buy us tickets.
I will pay for the journey. I�ll call my brother too-- he has a place perfect
for such events. You will not be the first to have entertained the brand. It
will be a fine gathering. My brother will be there, and his friends,
witnesses to your sacrifice. They will give a certain frivolity to the
event. Like drinking, a branding should not be performed alone. It must be
accompanied by festivity. There will, of course, also, afterward, be a
certain freedom between the guests. You know what I mean, of course. It
is inspiring to watch a girl offer herself in what some have called the
ultimate sacrifice-- you will set an example for us all and we will wish
to celebrate it.�
�I- I cannot,� my aunt said. Sarife squeezed her left breast until she
suddenly let out a howl.
�I will purchase the tickets,� Sarife said.
The air was gold with the setting sun, dipping into the Indian sea.
My aunt and I sat on a veranda, overlooking the water. Sarife was there,
as well as her brother, his fiancee, plus several other guests, both male
and female.
We had spent the last several days as tourists, my aunt and I, seeing
the sights in the company of Sarife and her brother. Nothing had been said
as to the purpose of our visit. Nothing, that is, until this morning, when
Sarife informed my aunt that they would be spending all day at the beauty
parlor.
�Oh, but my hair is fine!� my aunt had said, at breakfast.
�Of course it is pretty, dear,� Sarife answered. �But it must be
sumptuous. Every strand must be moulded to perfection. Do you not agree,
Arthur?� she asked, turning to her brother. He was buttering his bread. He
looked up as if nearly oblivious to what his sister was saying.
�Ah, yes,� he said. He looked at my aunt. �I should like to have a
party this evening, Rebecca,� he said. �A rather special one.�
Sarife took my aunt�s hand. �At this party the men will wear suits,�
she said. �However, it is customary for the women to have perfect hair
and nails, while wearing very little. Such a pretty contrast it will make,
don�t you think? Your hair will be dressed to the point of exaggeration,
yet you will be otherwise nude, save for a small nightie.� My aunt blushed.
�There is something else also,� Arthur interjected. �At such a
party, in ancient days, it was customary for a virgin to be brought up from
the village. She would be greatly honored to be present at such a party,
for her overlord, who was customarily high above her in the caste system,
would on this night treat her as a lady of high standing. And so would the
other guests present, who were all of great social distinction. The only
difference between the girl and the guests, before everyone retired to the
inner chamber, and the women all stripped and donned nighties, was that
this girl, this young beautiful virgin, would mingle with the guests with
her breasts bare, while everyone else, including all the women present,
would still be dressed in full gowns.�
�And then?� I asked, speaking in the silence that intervened.
�And then, when the women all changed into nighties, the party
would proceed to an inner room, as my brother mentioned,� Sarife
continued. �There the girl, owing to her virginity, would not be fucked,
though others might, if they wished, resort to copulating. However
instead of being fucked, this lovely young girl would be put against a post,
and tied, with a pillow forcing her hips out, and as she enjoyed the
comfort of the pillow against her loins her backside would be branded.�
�OH!� my aunt ejaculated, as if she had not foreseen where Sarife�s
description of the party was heading. I felt queasy in my tummy. I shifted
in my chair and asked to be excused.
�Yes, of course,� my aunt managed to say.
�Do get the sugar, would you, Chloe? The servant forgot to set it
out,� Arthur said.
�Yes,� I breathed.
I had gotten the sugar, and by the time I fetched it some agreement
had been reached, for they were talking of other things. That night we sat
watching the sun set, my aunt dressed in a white gown, looking
immaculate, wearing gloves on her hands, holding a parasol against the
rays of the sun which were now departing. The only aspect of her that
was the slightest bit out of place was her bosom. Instead of being
covered, as the bosoms of the other women were, it was quite bare As the
night cooled with the setting of the sun, my aunt�s nipples stiffened.
Arthur and the men watched her ardently. The women, more amused than
aroused by my aunt�s display, pretended not to notice.
With the sun gone, we got up and drifted from the veranda into
Arthur�s home. We were on the second floor. He had a large estate,
flanked on all sides by trees, yet still the sounds of the city could be
heard.
�Draw the drapes,� Arthur said. �It will cut down on the noise.� I
thought he meant the noise of the city but later I realized he meant other
sounds. Two men, dressed to the nines in their suits, turned and closed
the heavy drapes, shutting out the view of the sea.
We settled into chairs in the living room. Arthur sat down next to
my aunt. He reached for her wrist, lying in her lap, and caught it in his big
fingers. My aunt, still holding her parasol aloft, as if to ward off evil
designs, gave it a nervous twirl. Arthur turned her limp hand palm
upwards and kissed it. My aunt shivered. Her nude bosoms quivered their
tips, which presented themselves stiffly to his eyes.
�Now, Rebecca,� Arthur said, lifting his eyes from my aunt�s chest
to her face, �There can be no turning back, once we pass into the inner
room.� He spoke to her with the greatest deference, his voice soft and
reverential. Did he truly admire her, I wondered, her courage in coming
here, her bravery in sitting before these near-strangers with her bosoms
uncovered? Or was it all just a cruel joke? My aunt bit her lip. Arthur
leaned forward and kissed her mouth. When he took his face away from
hers, she was no longer biting her lip. She shook back her brown hair. Her
breasts heaved prettily as she drew in her breath.
�Kiss me again,� she whispered. Her eyes implored.
�You will agree to it?� Arthur asked.
�If you wish me to,� Rebecca answered.
�I should be greatly inspired by it,� Arthur said, and I noticed a
protrusion erupt suddenly in his crotch. My aunt noticed it to, her eyes
widening, but before she could admire it Arthur�s mouth had once again
pressed to hers, and she received him in a new kiss.
We passed into the inner room. It was dark. The men lit candles. I
saw a rich display of silk, of flowers, of bottles containing ointments and
salves. Pillows were scattered about the room, amidst the silk-covered
walls. Their slip cases were made of silk, trimmed with lace. A single
chair stood on the near side of the room. It was made of mahogany and had
no arms, the bare wood a sharp contrast to the silken walls and cushions.
As I glanced to the far end of the room, I saw silk curtains in the
form of an upright box. They seemed to be hiding something. I saw my
aunt�s eyes flit to the box and then away. She shivered, sending new
tremors along the sumptuous bare curves of her breasts, making her
nipples wiggle.
�Come, there is a side room where we may change,� Sarife said to
my aunt. She took her hand from Arthur. They shared a smile, Sarife and
her brother, and then Sarife�s smiling eyes fell on my aunt. But my aunt
was still now, like a stone, and looked frightened. Gently Sarife urged her
through a side door, and a woman urged me to follow.
In the side room I undressed with the other females. I found them
all as beautiful as my aunt, with full figures and heavy bosoms, though
some were ten years older than she. Baby doll nighties were passed out.
They had been purchased by a servant who had been given our
measurements. In each case the nightie proved to be too short;
deliberately, I guessed. My own ended at my navel. It left my bottom bare
and my pubis uncovered. I was given white stockings and told to put them
on. I did; they came up to the tops of my thighs, further accentuating the
nakedness of my bush and bottom.
�Can�t I wear panties?� I asked.
�No,� Sarife smiled, herself now in a baby doll. �All is to be
softness and graceful tenderness now. What better way to enjoy the
evening than in a light baby doll?�
�But the men will see my pussy,� I whined.
�Yes, they will surely admire it,� Sarife said. �And that is so nice,
don�t you think? Out there, in the streets of the city, everything must be
covered. If Buddhist monks don�t require it, a nosy Imam surely will, and
report to the authorities anyone who is deemed too immodest. But here
we can be free, and show ourselves, and admire each other, and enjoy the
feel of a soft cushion placed under the bare ass, if we so desire.� She
turned to my aunt. Her smile was laced with irony. �Is that not so,
Rebecca?� she asked. My aunt bowed her head. Sarife palmed her bottom.
Another woman joined Sarife and together they vented the cheeks of my
aunt�s ass. The other women drew close and peeked inbetween Rebecca�s
forced-open fanny.
�Oh, how small her hole is!� an older woman exclaimed.
�She has not felt much up there,� another woman said.
�She will tonight,� a third said, and everyone giggled. My aunt
blushed. I felt butterflies rise up in my tummy and clutched at my own
bottom. A woman was fingering Rebecca between her cheeks and
instinctively my aunt shut her bottom, despite the pressure of Sarife�s
hands upon it.
�Oh! You should do that on the brand,� the woman, whose finger lay
trapped between my aunt�s bottomhalves, exclaimed. �You would burn a
hole in your arse for sure then!� She extricated her finger. Sarife scolded
my aunt and once again gripped her, this time harder, and forced my aunt
to display the private sections of her bottom again to the other ladies.
�She has a small ass, don�t you think, for her age?� a woman asked.
�Well, no wonder. Look at her niece. Did you ever see such a little
bottom?�
�Oh, but she is still just a child,� the first woman said. I flushed. I
had my hands on my ass and, unconsciously, perhaps in sympathy with my
aunt, I opened the cheeks of my own fanny with my hands.
�Look. She wants it too,� a woman said.
�No I don�t!� I cried, and, realizing what I was doing, I let go of
myself. �I want panties,� I moaned.
�You will get a spanking if you complain,� Sarife told me.
With our pussies showing and our bottoms displayed in all their
round splendor, we returned to the silken room. The men were waiting for
us. They were dressed as before, lounging on the pillows. A bulge showed
in each man�s crotch. They were smoking but it was obvious their minds
were not on their cigars as they admired our entry.
I settled onto a cushion. It felt wonderful against my bare ass. I
worried that without panties I might grow excited and moisten it with my
nether lips. Would Arthur see the spot, and be displeased?
We sat apart from the men, all save my aunt, who was placed in the
wooden chair. Sarife was careful to put a pillow under my aunt�s bottom
before seating her on the hard wood. My aunt let out a small sigh as she
sat down. We knew as well as she that it would be the last time she sat
down with her bottom intact. She surveyed the room, nervously. The
women smiled and the men grinned. She avoided my eyes. I remained mute
and unsmiling, like a scared rabbit.
Two women rose and passed among the men. Methodically they
unzipped each man and pulled his hardened penis from his pants. They
were respectful, but showed no special favors, save perhaps a quick smile.
Then, when those two women had sat down again, returning amongst us
girls, a third woman got up. She picked a feathered plume from among
several near the wall. She walked among the men and teasingly stroked
their penises with the plume. It was excessively soft; the men groaned as
they felt the whispering of the plume upon their naked members.
�No touching yourselves, dears, or me, for that matter,� the woman
admonished. The men stared at her stockinged legs, at her bared bottom,
at the furred nest of her quim. They admired the jut of her breasts, barely
concealed by her nightie. When she had passed by each man several times
they looked to be no longer happy, as they had previously been, but instead
quite agonized, grimaces lining their faces, their cigars clutched rather
than held by their fingers. They continued to smoke. One man accidentally
dropped cigar ash on his bare dick and had to go running from the room to
find water to cool it. That brought a laugh from everyone, even me and my
aunt.
�Let us enjoy the position our guest of honor will soon assume,� a
woman suggested. I did not know what she meant, but at once every
female present, save Sarife, my aunt, and me, got on all fours. They
remained comfortably disposed among the cushions, but now knelt, their
chins down, supported by their own hands, and their asses poised in the air
like bare hinds in a butcher�s market. I saw how their baby doll nighties
left their rumps uncovered and felt embarrassed for them.
�Chloe,� Sarife said. �You too.� I gasped. Must I display myself
similarly? I saw in her eyes that I must, and felt a sudden unexpected
randiness over it. I knelt on all fours and offered my bottom, as if to
some unseen god. My chin buried itself in a silken pillow. My eyes lifted
up, regarded Sarife, and she smiled. �Yes. Very good,� Sarife said.
�Remain so until I tell you otherwise.� She turned, leaving me feeling
quite ridiculous, with my eyes wide and my ass cheeks parted behind me,
by the dipping of my back. My legs were apart, as were the legs of all the
other girls. I wondered if I felt the need to pee if they would give me
permission to rise, and excuse myself. Or would I be made to remain like
this? In my mind�s eye I saw a dish placed under me, between my legs, to
catch and collect my stream. They would pass it among themselves and
comment upon the quality of my urine.
�Draw back the curtain,� Sarife ordered. Two men rose, their cocks
a-waggle, and pulled back the upright curtain at the far end of the room,
that was in the shape of a box. My aunt gasped. So did many others,
including myself. For there, behind the curtains, stood a long wooden
bench. It was slanted so that the far end, where I suspected my aunt�s
head would soon rest, was lower down than the back end. Beside it was a
fireplace. The logs in the hearth were as yet unlit. Dangling above the
hearth, half in and half out of it, suspended on hooks, was an iron rod. It
had a pointed tip.
�There is the brand, Rebecca,� Arthur said. �In olden days it was
sometimes used not for branding, but for skewering. More than one Indian
nobleman who lived here in ancient days did in his enemies with such a
brand. The skin could not be touched, according to caste law, so the iron
rod was introduced, red hot, into the backside, where it delivered the
nobleman of his enemy with astonishing slowness.� Arthur grinned. My
aunt, who had turned white, and was sitting on her bottom, clutched at her
flat belly with her hands. �So you see, Rebecca, by affixing a brand to the
end of the rod, I am actually being merciful,� Arthur said. �But let us have
drinks first. Your ass is not yet required. The fire must first be lit, the
brand made warm.� He clapped his hands. �Drinks!� he shouted, and a
woman got up and left through the curtains behind us, going into the outer
room.
�I- I do not wish to be branded,� my aunt said. She shifted on her
seat. She looked odd sitting there while we all knelt or lounged on the
cushions. She blushed, a deep red. Arthur rose and walked over to her. I
thought he might grab her but instead, his cock displayed like that of a
randy rooster, he bent and whispered gently in her ear. Soon they were
kissing, and then my aunt let him draw her up from the chair and walk her
over to the wooden bench. She lay down upon it.
�Auntie! No!� I cried. I watched as my aunt let Arthur arrange her.
He drew her legs wide so that her backside would be drawn open. The
inner recesses of her peach showed to us all. Arthur bound her legs. He
fixed them so that they remained in a wide vee. They were bent at the
knees, her lower legs settled on the floor, but her thighs, upright, were
splayed hard apart so that her bottom remained on full view. I saw her
hole, twinkling between her cheeks. A woman made a rude remark and
several of the ladies laughed.
Drinks were brought. We drank; even me, for I was frightened at
what would be done to my aunt. A woman put a straw in a drink and knelt
by my aunt�s head and had her sip it. The fire was lit. The end of the iron
brand began to warm.
Time passed. We drank and admired my aunt�s behind. She finished
sipping her drink and the woman kneeling by her head asked her if she
would like another. My aunt nodded. She would have drank every bottle on
the premises, I imagine, if given the opportunity. But when the woman
brought my aunt the second drink, she would occasionally pinch the straw,
as my aunt sipped, to make her drink it slowly.
�It is time,� Arthur said at last. He stood up. He regarded my aunt.
Her bottom, captured and held, reared at him. He walked over to the
fireplace, where the brand was waiting.
Amidst the civilized softness of the pillows, the silk-covered walls,
the scented candles, Arthur picked up the brand. It was long, stiff; its tip
glowed. Arthur took the brand and walked to where my aunt lay open and
splayed. She tried to draw her bottom cheeks closed as she felt the heat
of the brand approach. It was no use; her butt was pulled hard apart, her
anus showing and the insides of her lovely round cheeks. Arthur held the
brand close; not touching her skin, but letting her feel how unbearably hot
it was.
�With this brand I will claim you forever,� Arthur said to my aunt.
�Even if I do not keep you, you will always be mine, for you will bear my
mark for the rest of your life.�
I wanted to scream, but could not find the breath in me to do so.
My aunt screamed for me.
30
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