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Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
TWO COUPLES
Chapter One
He said it quite abruptly. There are many ways to broach a subject
and Mark had never taken the round-a-bout or tempered way, always
coming right out and saying it, like when he first proposed to Becky three
months earlier and she, thinking that he meant for them to be engaged,
was startled to learn that he was skipping that altogether (except for the
requisite ring) and suggesting marriage.
That was what Becky liked about him, his directness. Yet at the
same time, as in the case of their sudden marriage, it scared her, for her
father had been anything but a direct man, a bureaucrat by training and
occupation, steeped in the ways of obfuscation.
And so now, when Mark said what he said, Becky uttered a little
�Oh!� and put her hand to her lips, and nearly dropped her coffee cup.
It was a late night coffee. They each sat in a separate chair, four
leather chairs arranged round a coffee table, the four of them casually
dressed for the summer weather. They were at Steve and Sherry�s house,
in their living room, a fire crackling in a hearth as the California night
cooled outside. They had been friends for two months, Becky and her
husband and Sherry and hers. There was complete trust between them,
Becky felt, despite the difference in years and experience.
Sherry and Steve had been married for three years, not three months.
They had had time to get to know one another and it showed, she always
able to finish his sentences for him, or he hers, one of them sometimes
jumping and telling the rest of a story that the other had started.
It was not that way with Becky and Mark. They were still
newlyweds, surprising each other sometimes with their thoughts and
opinions, with their ways of doing things. Mark was his usual direct self
and Becky, brought up under her father, was discreet and shy. She would
never say something outright. He would. He seemed to glory in it in the
same way that she avoided it. Or perhaps �glory� was not the right word.
He simply did it. There. It was done. Let others worry about it.
And so as Becky listened to the crickets in the yard, through the
open living room window, savoring Sherry�s coffee, enjoying her older
friend�s hospitality, Mark, looking at Steve, suddenly said,
�I would like my wife to become acquainted with the whip.�
Becky gave a shocked �Oh!�. Sherry smiled and glanced at the young
newlywed wife. Steve, after a moment�s pause, smiled too, and looked at
Becky. Then, looking again at Mark, he said,
�I have a business meeting tomorrow morning.�
�Oh,� Mark said. Sherry, still smiling, put her coffee cup to her lips
and sipped it, as if the weather, or some equally mundane subject had just
been raised. But there was a sudden and unmistakable gleam of mischief
in her eyes.
�Not tonight, of course,� Mark quickly said. He passed his coffee cup
from one hand to the other, as if suddenly uncertain. He was always that
way, Becky reflected, after making one of his profound statements, if an
obstacle was suddenly put in his path. It wasn�t a backing down, just a
seeming reconsideration, which really wasn�t that at all, a kind of
reloading of his mental gun before firing it straight ahead once more.
Swallowing, but with no coffee in her mouth, Becky realized she had a
coffee cup in her hand and tightened her grip, lest she spill the hot liquid
onto her skirt and down her bare leg. She noticed that Mark, thanks to his
lurid proposal, was suddenly getting an erection in his pants. She glanced
at Sherry and saw that her friend�s eyes had shifted from herself to Mark.
She saw his newfound condition too.
�My wife is accustomed to the thing you speak of,� Steve, less
direct than Mark, said diplomatically. His eyes showed a gleam of
recognition as Mark grew larger. Sherry gulped again. Now everyone was
aware of Mark, of his excitement. �I don�t use it often, but it is an
important thing to have,� Steve said. Sherry, still looking at Mark�s
crotch, giggled. Then Steve laughed too, briefly, cutting it off after only a
moment. The double entendre was clear.
�Yes,� Mark agreed. In his direct way, he was sometimes oblivious,
Becky realized, for he merely frowned at the laughter, not realizing his
penis had become the center of attention. He shifted uncomfortably in his
chair. It was a big leather chair, overstuffed, as soft as the front of his
crotch was hard.
Sherry put down her coffee cup on a glass table in front of her own
leather chair. She tossed back her blonde hair.
�Where would you like this introduction to take place?� Sherry
asked.
�Here. If you don�t mind,� Mark said. Sherry looked at her husband.
He looked at Becky.
�Oh-- I don�t think--� Becky offered, fear giving a bewildered look
to her eyes. Mark interrupted.
�You are not being asked,� Mark said. His voice had grown suddenly
hoarse as the bulge in his crotch increased. He shifted again in his chair.
�Alright,� Steve said. He looked at Mark. Again his gaze showed
awareness of Mark�s newfound condition, of his cock straining in his
slacks. �Of course you know that this will mark a new phase,� Steve said.
His voice grew tense. To Becky�s alarm she saw that a lump was beginning
to form in Steve�s pants. �In our friendship, I mean,� Steve continued.
�We�ve gone canoeing together, we�ve gone to the beach, but--�
�Yes. I know,� Mark said. �We haven�t fucked together.� Becky gave
another loud uncomfortable sigh. Even Sherry, up to this moment calm,
gave a small gasp.
�I was trying to avoid using that word,� Steve told Mark.
�Use it. I don�t mind,� Mark said. He sounded belligerent but he must
have been nervous, for as soon as he said it he quickly lifted his coffee
cup up to his mouth. It was empty. Blushing, he put it down on the table
in front of him.
Becky looked away. She could not bear to gaze at her husband with
his crotch showing like that, speaking of sex in front of her friends. In
the hearth a fire burned. Hanging next to the hearth were fire implements.
The fire cast a warm glow over them, seemingly turning them from iron to
gold. Becky looked at them, as she had many times in the past, sitting in
this room. Even in their golden state they looked ominous. They had
always given her a scare, like things made for rearranging the coals down
in Hell. But the flame itself, in the hearth, was, on this night, a
simmering flame, a decorative flame. It was purposely kept low. The
night, summery and warm but now cooling, as midnight approached, did not
require a larger flame. It was just a gentle crackling, to add color to the
room and join in with the sound of the crickets.
�I mean it would be impossible not to, you know,� Steve suggested.
�Fuck?� Mark asked.
�Yes. Unless it was a strictly judicial whipping,� Steve said. Becky
let out a shout. She looked at her husband, at Steve, at Sherry. Her eyes
were becoming frantic. Steve�s wife stood up. She went to Becky�s chair.
She urged the girl to give her her hand. When she had, reluctantly, Sherry
urged her to stand too. Then she sat down in Becky�s chair. She put her
hands round Becky�s hips and pulled the girl into her lap. Reassuringly she
stroked Becky�s thighs, bare beyond the hem of her skirt. Meanwhile her
husband, Steve, continued to talk: �Among friends, it would be hard to
keep it entirely on that level,� Steve said. �Judicial, I mean. Serious.� He
lifted his cup, but didn�t drink from it.
�Yes,� Mark agreed.
�So we must consider that our relationship would change.�
�That�s fine,� Mark said.
�There might be some embarrassment afterwards,� Steve said. �My
wife and I, we were friends with a couple. Then we did it together,
lovemaking, I mean, and afterwards we didn�t speak for a month. It was
just sort of that we saw each other differently after that.�
�Are you friends now?� Mark asked.
�Sort of,� Steve said. �He got transferred, by his company. We don�t
see each other anymore. Just Christmas cards...�
�Oh,� Mark said.
Steve leaned forward. He looked at the younger man with a serious
gaze.
�Have you done it before? With another couple, I mean,� he added
hastily, as Sherry, with Becky in her lap, suppressed a giggle.
�No,� Mark said. Sherry smiled at Becky, trying to get her attention
as she stroked the girl�s thighs but the brunette, sitting in her lap,
pretended to ignore her. Yet there was now a flush in her cheeks, growing
deeper by the second. Becky gazed at the hearth, gulping a little, but not
drinking, just holding her cup in her hand in her lap, as she stared into the
flames. Sherry, her hands on Becky�s legs, continued to gently massage
them.
�This Friday we�re free,� Sherry said to her husband. Her voice was
soft, almost a whisper.
�No!� Becky cried, turning to the older man.
�This Friday�s fine,� Mark agreed. Wildly Becky shifted her eyes to
Mark, more frightened than ever.
�Then it�s settled,� Steve said, which brought a woeful moan from
Becky and an impish laugh from his own wife. �This Friday, here.�
�Yes,� Mark said, his arousal becoming so big that he scrunched up
his face with the pain of it. Steve�s eyes fell to Mark�s lap.
�Can you last until then?� Steve asked, looking frankly at Mark�s
erection.
�Huh?� Mark, still unaware of the spectacle he was making, replied.
Then, seeing a certain look in his wife�s eyes, he suddenly understood.
�Oh,� Mark said. �Yeah,� He nodded quickly, looking down at himself.
Sherry put a hand to her mouth and giggled again. Becky had a look of
alarm on her face but the others, except for Sherry stroking her thighs,
ignored her.
�Very well,� Steve said. �As you can imagine there will be
significant demands placed on you. It�s unavoidable. So I would
recommend...� Mark looked at Sherry, at his wife sitting in Sherry�s lap.
�Yes. Of course,� Mark said. And then he scrunched up his face with
the pain of himself, again, and a look of wonderment came over him as to
how he would ever do it.
But it was settled. As a result, nothing more was spoken of the
matter as they broke up that evening, despite Becky�s frightened stares, or
Mark�s obvious limping, brought on by his crotch. They said goodbye to
each other. They said goodbye in the moonlight, out on the porch, Steve to
Mark and Mark to Steve and Sherry, with the crickets humming all around
them.
In the car, Becky said to Mark in a nervous voice, �Honey, what are
you doing?�
�Hmmm?� Mark asked. He started the car. He pulled out of Steve and
Sherry�s driveway with a nonchalant look on his face, his wife sitting
beside him. He waved to the couple, on their front porch, as he drove off.
Becky, forcing a smile, waved too.
�They�re friends. Don�t embarrass me like that!� Becky said.
�I�m not,� Mark answered. He drove along the road. It was lined
with trees and, in front of them, the trees cast long, clutching shadows in
the road ahead of their car.
�Then what were you talking about?� Becky asked. Mark looked at
his wife. A shadow, deeper than the darkness they were driving through,
passed briefly over her as they rolled along under the trees. More
followed, like black ghouls.
�It�s something new I want to try,� Mark said.
�Oh,� Becky answered. Her hands in her lap clasped, unclasped,
clasped again, the shadows running over her. �Something new,� she said.
She swallowed. The forced smile was again on her lips.
�Yes,� Mark said. �Now don�t ask me about it again.�
He did not make love to her that night. The next night he was equally
resistant, despite her wide, welcoming eyes, and by the third night, he
again refusing, despite the awkward hardness of his penis standing high in
their bed, she was truly frightened. She tried mounting him, in the
darkness when he was asleep, but he woke, abruptly, and pushed her away.
�Be good,� he told her. He put a hand to her cunt.
�But darling--� she gasped. Lightly he massaged her. Then he got
out of the bed and opened a drawer. He pulled something from it,
snakelike, a white long thing that the moon, high now in the sky,
illuminated through their bedroom window.
�Roll on your stomach,� he told her. She obeyed, looking at him, at
the thing coiled up in his hands, at his erection.
�What�s that?� she asked. She had not seen it before.
�It�s a rope,� he said. She gasped. Her frightened eyes grew bigger.
�I�m going to have to tie you,� he said. �As you can see, I am in need,
as are you. But we must wait until Friday. On Friday you will get what
you want.�
�But I don�t want to be whipped!� she shouted. He put his hands to
hers. He yanked them behind her back. Quickly he tied her, the rope
chafing her wrists as she felt it pulled tight against her skin. She gasped,
she yelled. He grunted with the effort of tying her. She tried to catch at
his penis with her mouth but he managed to pull it away. When her hands
were tied behind her back, she lying in their bed weeping, he took
something else out of the drawer. It was a long leather sheath. It had
little crossties on it, also made of leather. He loosened them. She
watched wide-eyed as he fitted the sheath over his penis. Then he tied it,
so that he wore the sheath as a kind of chastity belt, wrapped around his
manhood from the penis tip to the base. It came with a strap that could be
buckled around the waist and run between his legs, over his balls. He put
the waist strap on. When it was secure he took the part that went over
his balls, which was shaped like a loop, so that his balls could hang
through, and he put that on too.
�This will prevent me from fucking you,� he explained to her. �Or
playing with myself,� he added. He looked at himself, all bound up in the
leather, and he swallowed. Hard. Then he got back in bed. Betsy stared,
lying on her belly, at his penis wrapped in the leather, pointing hard at the
ceiling.
�You will need to take it off to pee,� she said quietly to him in the
darkness.
�Yes. I know,� he said.
�It will take awhile to untie it,� she said.
�Yes,� he agreed.
�I hope you don�t wake up with your bladder bursting,� she said.
�I hope not either,� he answered. And then, lying there in the
darkness, she said something quite unexpected, and blushed very deep the
minute she said it. �I want one too,� she said.
�A chastity belt?� he asked.
�Yes,� she whispered.
�You will pee in it if you can�t get it off quickly enough in the
morning, when you wake up,� he told her.
�Yes. I know,� she said, her face turning even more crimson. But he
could not see her blush, for the moonlight was falling on her wrists, above
her bottom, where the rope was tied.
�Alright,� he said. �I�ll ask Sherry about it tomorrow.�
�Sherry?� she said, her voice suddenly high and startled.
�Yes,� Mark said. �She gave me this, today, when I saw her in town.
She has a new job. It�s right across the street from where I work.�
�Oh,� Becky said. He heard her soft throat swallow in the darkness.
�I told her I was waiting until this Friday. I told her that yesterday,
when I saw her at lunch. So today she gave me this.�
�Oh,� Becky said. �At lunch.�
�We are going to try new things,� Mark said to his wife. Absently he
touched the leather holding his penis. She watched his erection quiver, his
thumb pressing on it and making it snap back to attention after being
depressed toward his thighs and let go. �New things,� Mark said again.
�But--� Becky said. She squirmed on the sheets, her hands pressing
into her back.
�No buts,� Mark said. He reached over and put a hand to her lips.
�Tomorrow night I will lock you into your own chastity belt. And then the
next night-- the next night is Friday,� Mark said. Betsy bit his finger. He
shouted and pulled it away.
�Don�t do that,� he said.
�You are going to make me hurt,� she pouted.
�We are going to try new things,� he answered. He put his finger in
his mouth and sucked it. He tasted blood. Somehow, despite the leather
holding his penis and the rope holding her hands, they fell asleep.
Sherry sat playing at the piano. It was a baby grand, black, shiny.
Occasionally she would pause and lift her chin and glance out the window,
toward the road. When she did her bosoms, bare but lightly held by a
corset, would quiver. Her nipples were hard, unbearably so, and it was an
effort on her part to keep stroking and pushing upon the piano�s keys
instead of her pointed breast tips. Her husband sat in a chair. He was
dressed in a fine silk suit. But his fly was open, his hard penis extended
out into the room, feeling the cool air passing in through the window. His
wife glanced from the road to her husband. She smiled at his hardness, at
his obvious eagerness. Then she quietly looked down at the keys again, on
the piano, below the jut of her breasts.
�You�ll never get it back into your pants,� Sherry chided her husband.
He looked at himself, at her, at her divinely full bosoms.
�I know,� he said. �Come and wet it for me again.� His wife hit a
note. The sound rang out in the room, soft, lilting, high.
�No,� she answered. �You almost came in my mouth ten minutes
ago.�
�I�m better controlled now,� Steve replied. His wife looked at him.
She hit another note, lower.
�No,� she said.
�Who is going to wield the thing?� Mark asked. Sherry played
several notes in succession.
�You�re the owner,� she said, as a cloud drifted away outside and the
road, formerly in shadow, became suddenly lit by bright sunshine.
�I�m not talking about my dick,� Steve grunted.
�Oh,� Sherry said. She paused again. She looked at the road.
�You know what I�m talking about,� Steve said.
�Yes,� Sherry agreed.
�Who is going to hit her?� Steve asked. �If I make her bleed, her
husband may never forgive me.�
�Are you suggesting?� Sherry asked, striking a note again. It was
deep, resonant.
�He won�t do it. Not properly, you know.�
�So it�s left to me, then?� Sherry asked.
�You must be sufficiently cruel to give her an actual experience of it
without being so bad that she refuses to ever do it again,� Steve said.
�I know,� Sherry answered. She gave her husband a rueful look. She
shifted her bottom, which was bare, on the bare black shiny wooden bench
of the piano. His eyes fell to her ass and he admired its whiteness against
the bench. It had been some time since he had whipped her and he felt a
sudden surge of longing to make her behind beet red again, perhaps even to
make it bleed.
�And me?� Sherry asked, sensing his thoughts. Steve shifted in the
leather chair he was sitting in. It was his turn to feign misunderstanding.
�You?� he asked.
�Yes,� she said. �Me.� She hit a very low note on the piano and it
rang out loudly.
�You have a very nice ass,� Steve said. He grinned. �I�m glad you
agreed to have them come earlier.� Sherry looked at the pale blue sky
beyond the road, through a gap in the trees, and wondered what color the
part of herself she was sitting on would be by the time the horizon turned
red.
�You�re going to hurt me, after I hurt her,� Sherry said. She did not
hit a key again but stared at her husband. His penis, full of his blood and
pumping visibly with his pulse, was brick red.
�You think too far ahead,� he answered.
�I�m worried about my butt,� Sherry said frankly. Her eyes widened.
Her breath was coming more quickly now and Steve admired the way her
tits moved. �You were rough with me last time. Too rough,� Sherry said.
Steve grinned again, more broadly than before.
�It can�t be helped,� he said quietly.
�Don�t make me bleed,� Sherry implored him. �Please.�
�You have to be cruel to be kind,� Steve said.
�My mother is coming in a week and I want to be able to sit down for
her, Steve. Please,� Sherry answered. Suddenly Steve rose. He turned his
head and looked out the window, his penis displayed in the room, the air
coming in through the window and removing the last traces of Sherry�s
saliva.
�It�s them. I hear their car,� Steve said. As he said it Sherry heard
the sound of the engine too and, seeing her husband turn and look out the
window, she did too, but she did not have his confident stare. Rather she
gazed frightened and timid, like a rabbit suddenly aware of a car bearing
down in the darkness.
�Yes. It�s them,� Steve said. He watched as a sport sedan, red in
color, slowed on the road beyond and turned into their driveway.
�Steve. Please,� Sherry whispered. Her voice was high, like the
notes she had struck when she first began looking out at the road.
�You will greet them,� Steve said. �I�m in no condition to go to the
door.� He glanced down at himself.
�I�ll have to put on a bra,� Sherry said, rising from the bench.
�No,� Steve answered. �It�s not unpleasant for a woman to be seen
naked. But a man... it would be too abrupt. Greet them and bring them into
the living room and say something about me, and then I�ll come in also.�
�Like that,� Sherry said. She gazed at her husband�s penis.
�Of course like this,� Steve answered. �You said yourself I wouldn�t
be able to zip myself back in again.�
There was the sound of car doors slamming. Sherry looked down at
herself, at her bare muff below the tight hem of her corset, beneath the
wiggling semi-freedom of her pushed-up breasts. She tugged at the base
of her corset. It was taut. She reached down and checked her stockings,
stretching up her legs to garters that hung down from her corset. They
were tight, both the straps along the fronts of her thighs and her
stockings. She reached back and did the same in the rear, behind herself,
checking the fit and tightness of the garters that molded themselves
slimly to her bottom, on their way down to her hose. The jut of her ass,
naked except for the garters trailing over it, quivered warmly. Her
stockings were white, pure, as were her garters and corset. Small roses
decorated the garters and the frilled upper portion of her corset, where
her breasts rested. But the roses were white too, white on white fabric,
with her white bottom sticking out behind her and her breasts, white like
her corset, jutting forth in front. Only her arms and legs, and face and
belly were tanned, and her shoulders and her hands. But her legs were
encased in white stockings all the way up to her ass, and now, as she
reached along the top of the shiny black piano, she picked up white gloves.
She slipped them over her hands. They matched her corset, white with
white roses, covering her hands to her wrists.
�You look beautiful,� Steve whispered to his wife.
�I�ll be a mess in the morning,� she answered.
�Such is life,� Steve said.
�Don�t make me bleed,� Sherry told him.
The doorbell rang. Sherry hurried out of the room with the piano,
which was a formal dining room, and into the living room that led to the
front door. She grasped the door�s handle and opened it. Mark and Becky�s
eyes widened as they saw her nudity.
�Come in,� Sherry said, a sudden blush coming to her cheeks. �We�re
just getting ready.�
�We- we can wait--?� Becky answered. Her voice was high and
tentative.
�No. Please. You mustn�t be left standing at the door,� Sherry said.
They entered. Becky would not have gone in but Mark put a hand to her
back and gently pushed her, making her step over the threshold. Becky
turned her head as Mark pushed her, tried to speak to him, to protest, but
ended looking hastily at the road, as a car went by.
�Yes. Come in. Don�t make a show standing at the door,� Sherry,
blushing still more fully, down to her breast tips, added. The couple
finished stepping inside and Mark, in deference to Sherry�s nudity, turned
and closed the front door himself.
Becky clutched her purse. Her eyes were big as saucers and she wore
a small skirt, a miniskirt, much shorter than the one she�d worn in when
they�d visited at the week�s start. Beneath she wore black fishnet
stockings, and the ties that held the stockings to her legs were long
enough, hanging down, to be seen beneath the high hem of her skirt.
Pressing her purse to her breasts, which was a black leather purse, she
said,
�We can only stay a little while.�
�Of course,� Sherry said. Her voice had a note of indulgence in it.
Her blush began to fade. She was confident once more, in the face of this
frightened young newlywed wife that was suddenly in her home. �Of
course,� she said again. She ushered Becky to a sofa, holding her lightly
by her arm. She made her sit down. Mark sat down beside her. Sherry�s
eyes darted, involuntarily and reflexively, from Becky to her husband. The
man was hard. His crotch bulged with his desire.
�The belts were helpful?� Sherry asked. She stood over them, her
breasts attracting Mark�s eyes and making his young wife blush.
�Belts?� Mark, lost in admiration for Sherry, responded absently.
�Chastity belts,� Sherry said. Boldly, to illustrate her question, she
reached down and with her hand touched Mark�s crotch. He admired her
glove, the swing of her naked tits.
�Oh. Yes,� Mark said. Sherry fell to her knees. Studiously avoiding a
gasp from Becky, she took hold of the zipper of Mark�s fly. It was not hard
to find; the bulge in his crotch was stretching the front of his pants.
�You need some air,� Sherry whispered. She said it to Mark�s penis,
unzipping him as she spoke. Becky gasped again, but Sherry was
unflinching, professional, hardly balking at all when Mark suddenly leapt
out at her. She stared at his quivering form for a moment, his rude naked
hardness, and then, opening her mouth, and with a quick glance at Becky,
she popped the head of Mark into herself.
Becky let out a cry. Mark grunted. Sherry�s eyes showed surprise at
how big Mark was in her cheeks, making them bulge, forcing her lips
outward, clown-like, along the upper length of his shaft. Then a moment
later she had managed to accommodate him, despite his size, and she
began to suck.
It was almost subliminal, a smooth soft squelchy sound, Mark
feeling himself drawn upon like a straw, a big straw, as Sherry savored
the end of his penis. He had urinated on the way out, stopping along the
roadside to do it, standing among the stiff, tall trees, but she seemed not
to mind the taste of dried pee on the end of his dick, plumbing her mouth
with him as if he were a well-loved pacifier. She smiled up at him. He
felt himself drowning in her eyes. There was a sudden stirring in his
balls, which were still in his pants. Sherry felt him stiffen further,
excitedly, in her mouth, and she abruptly drew him out.
�Not yet,� she smiled. She held him in her hands a moment, admiring
him.
�Oh God!� Mark gasped. His wife let out a soft bubbling sigh, like a
baby awakening from a dream.
�Ah, you�re out,� a low voice sounded. Mark and Becky and even
Sherry, down on her knees, looked up. A shadow fell across the floor and
Steve, backlit by the sunlight streaming in from the dining room, entered.
He gazed at his friends, at his wife.
�You look very nice,� Steve said to Becky, taking his eyes off her
husband�s penis. Becky, blushing, grew yet more red-faced.
�Sorry I--� Mark began. Steve, his own penis exposed, wearing a
suit while Mark was dressed in jeans and a polo shirt, raised his hand.
�No. You�re fine. Just don�t spill yourself on my wife�s new carpet,�
Steve said. He trained his eyes on Becky, watching her squirm now on the
couch, the only one of the four of them still modestly dressed, if only in a
miniskirt and blouse. �Are you prepared for what will be happening this
evening?� Steve asked the young woman. She bowed her head. She looked
at the purse clutched in her hands, pressed tightly against her chest. �Are
you?� Steve asked again, when the woman failed to answer. The sound of
Steve�s voice, harsh now in the room, made Becky jump with fright as she
sat on the couch.
�Y- Yes,� Becky answered, but she did not look up, still staring at
her purse clutched to her breasts, her voice as soft and quiet as Steve�s
was hard. On her knees, on the carpet, Sherry stroked Mark�s manhood. He
reached out and put his arm around his wife, or tried to, as Sherry held
him. But Steve was quicker. The man strode over to Becky and grabbed her
arm. The young wife shouted. Steve yanked her to her feet. Becky�s purse
fell from her grasp to the floor. Sherry picked it up, still holding Mark
with her other hand. As she continued to kneel on the carpet she laid
Becky�s purse in the depression left by the young wife�s behind on the
couch.
Standing over Becky, with Becky standing up too, but with Steve
much taller than her, the man glowered down at the young wife. Mark was
going to protest at the rough removal of his wife from the couch but he
was suddenly distracted by Sherry, who put him back in her mouth. Steve
reached behind Becky. He lifted the back of Mark�s wife�s skirt. Her
pantied ass was revealed, a full round behind clad in black. It was Steve�s
first look at Becky�s ass in such a private way and the man, so fierce a
moment before, could be heard to draw in his breath. His penis quivered in
front of him, in front of Becky, as he gazed at the silken expanse of her
butt. It was smaller than his wife�s, which he hastily compared it to,
glancing down at his own wife�s jutting behind, naked in contrast to
Becky�s equally jutting, but still delicately clothed, ass. As for the young
wife, she now stared down over her breasts at the spectacle of Steve�s
cock.
�What a nice little heart-shaped rear-end,� Steve managed to say.
Becky, had she not been gulping hard, her hands quivering in the air, unable
to have her purse and afraid of the cock sticking out from her assailant,
might have responded with a compliment of her own. Steve�s dick was big,
bigger even than her husband�s. She had not had anything other than her
husband�s before and she felt herself startled and yet quickly aroused at
the thought of being so close to another man�s penis. Her cuntlips in her
panties wettened. She blushed again, deeper than before, realizing that if
Steve went for her panties he would find her as suddenly excited as he
obviously was.
The next moments were not poetic, or even humane. Steve tried to
unzip the back of Becky�s skirt and, too aroused to find the zipper, yanked
at it. She screamed. Her arousal turned to fear. He tore off her skirt.
Then he ripped open her blouse, ignoring her beating hands which now
pushed at his chest and reached up to his face, even scratching his cheeks.
When he had gotten the blouse off her, tearing the fabric like an animal,
oblivious to the fact that she would have nothing of her own to wear home
if he ripped it, he went for her bra. He liberated her breasts. Urgently he
freed them from the cups, shredding the brassiere with his big, great
hands, stopping only when her bosoms, so perfect and fine and uptilted,
spilled involuntarily into his grasp. He stared.
�You�re gorgeous. Your breasts are gorgeous,� he panted. For a long
moment he looked at her, or rather at her cleavage, until a car could be
heard passing out on the road. Then, as if suddenly afraid he might lose
her, he squeezed her. He squeezed her tits. Becky shouted. Her tit flesh
compressed by Steve�s hands, the man bent his head. He yanked one of her
breasts high, higher than the other. He put his mouth to it. Becky
screamed once more as he began to suck her, nearly devouring her tit in
his mouth, he like an alligator, she feeling his teeth as well as his lips
upon her skin, upon the nipple and the flesh surrounding it, he a great big
slobbering dog who had torn off her clothes and was now sucking her young
tit as if it were with milk.
When at last Steve lifted his face from Becky, having gorged at both
her breasts, making her panties very wet down between her legs, her
clothing torn and scattered on the floor, he gazed into her eyes.
�I want you to know something,� Steve said to Becky. She gulped.
Feeling his penis bump against her crotch, his hard nakedness hitting the
silk covering her bush, she looked up at him.
�Yes?� she asked.
�Your husband loves you,� Steve said. His voice was hoarse. �I love
my wife. I don�t love you. I admire you, yes, but I don�t want you thinking
that what passes between us tonight is love, in any way.� Becky looked
down. Behind her, behind her and Sherry�s husband, who held her still by
her tits, moaning could be heard. Sherry had ripped off Mark�s clothes,
much as Steve had ripped off Becky�s. The older man reached down and
grasped Becky by her soft chin. He lifted her eyes once more to hers, as a
sound very like that of a young man reaching orgasm came to both their
ears, from the couch. �Call what we do tonight lust, or discipline, or
training, or whatever you want,� Steve told Becky. �But don�t think for a
moment that I actually care about you, like I care about my wife. Do you
understand that?� Steve asked the young woman. Guiltily she stared at
him. Then, slowly, she nodded. But he could see by the shining of her eyes
that she did not understand. She had only had one lover, and it was her
husband, and he loved her very much.
�There must be a certain distance kept between us tonight,� Steve
said to Becky. He pulled her closer. She looked down but he forced her to
look up at him again. �Not physical distance, perhaps, but emotional
distance. The whip will help with that,� Steve said. Becky�s breath drew
in, suddenly, like a child remembering a bad thought. �Yes,� Steve said,
still forcing her by her chin to look at him as he held her tightly against
him, against his penis, which was pressed up now like a bent re-bar
between them, hard against both their stomachs, against her bare belly
and his silk-shirted chest, between the open halves of his silk jacket.
�The whip will hurt,� Steve said. �In fact, it will hurt very much. It will
help keep the emotional distance between us. I would do it myself, to you,
using the whip on your wonderful ass, but if you are hurt too severely your
husband will blame me forever. So my wife will do it.� Becky�s mouth
opened wide. She screamed but she shoved her face into Steve�s chest, and
the scream was muffled. Behind her, on the sofa, her husband reached
orgasm. Sherry had not intended to bring him off so quickly but she loved
the taste and the feel of him, the bigness of him, almost as big as her
husband, and after she�d gotten him naked she could not restrain herself.
He came in her mouth. But Steve and Becky, standing in front of them,
were in their own world.
�Yes,� Steve said to Becky. He patted her head as he felt tears from
her face, appearing suddenly, wet his shirt. He gazed down past the back
of her head, past her long flowing brown hair, at her black-pantied bottom.
�My wife will wield the whip,� he told her. �You will be put in a great
deal of pain when she does it, but you mustn�t blame her, she is merely my
instrument, the instrument of my training. I have taught her well. She
knows what she�s doing. Another man might go easier on a first-timer
like you but I don�t believe in that. I want her to whip you hard. It will be
light and easy at first but you must not be mistaken, and I don�t want you
begging to be let up when her tempo increases. You may scream, of
course,� Steve said, patting the back of Becky�s head as she sobbed into
his shirt, making little self-pitying noises as her husband, sitting on the
couch behind her, gave satisfied gasps of pleasure. �But you must go the
distance with your bottom. You must hang in there. I�m telling you now so
that when you do scream, and plead as you will, you understand that there
can be no relief. I do not want you thinking that if you yell loudly enough
in your pain I will let you up. You will hate me afterwards, perhaps, if you
think you can convince me otherwise. Once you are tied down and your ass
is bared to the whip there can be no going back. Do you understand?� he
asked her again. She sobbed, quietly. She made no answer except the
gurgling in her throat. He patted the back of her head again, as if
consoling a small child. He felt himself against her belly and he moaned.
His speech became slurred, he began repeating himself. �You will be made
to go the distance, forced,� he told her. �The bed will be soft and
comforting... yes, there will be a bed, it will be done in our bedroom,� he
told her, seeing her lift her head slightly, feeling her head move in his
hand. �But there will be no respite for your upthrust behind. You must
understand that. I do not hate you, I do not love you. I have admiration for
your youth and your beauty, that�s all. It isn�t an emotional thing,� he
assured her, and then felt himself move, snake-like, against her belly.
�Passionate, yes, but not angry.� He patted her head again. �Never angry,�
he assured her. �Even when I grab you, as already once I had to, I don�t
want you to think I�m doing anything except forcing things along, moving
along... it is not real anger, like anger between two men.�
�Oh God!� Mark, behind Becky and Steve, cried out.
�You came all over me,� Sherry answered. She stood up. Reluctantly
she let his now-drooping member pass out of her hands. As she turned,
Steve saw that his wife�s face, around her lips and all down her chin and
her throat, and upon her breasts, on the upper half of them, was covered
with sperm.
�You were not to make him come,� Steve said to Sherry.
�I couldn�t help it. He became excited and-- and so did I,� Sherry
said. She blushed. �It�s been awhile since we entertained another couple.�
�You�re a mess,� Steve said to his wife.
�I know,� Sherry answered. She walked over to where Steve was
standing with Becky. It was only a step or two and a moment later she
was lightly touching Becky�s behind, pulling her gloves off first so that
she would not stain Becky�s panties with sperm from her husband.
�Such a nice ass,� Sherry said. Becky flinched as she felt the older
woman touch her bottom.
�She looks pretty in her panties, don�t you think?� Steve asked his
wife.
�Yes,� Sherry answered. �You wouldn�t let me wear any.�
�I love your broad woman�s bottom,� Steve said.
�But you like hers too,� Sherry answered. She tugged lightly at
Becky�s panties. The girl flinched again but her hands did not leave
Steve�s chest.
�All men are attracted to young schoolgirl bottoms,� Steve said.
Sherry pulled open the back of Becky�s panties. She peeked at the round
flesh inside, ball-like, creased by a tight crack that tautened even more as
she gazed at it. Suddenly Becky�s hands darted out from between Steve
and herself. They flew back. They batted Sherry�s light touch away and a
snap could be heard as Becky�s panties, suddenly released from Sherry�s
grasp, closed once more upon her behind.
�Ooooh!� Becky cried. Her head flew up as she felt the sting of her
panties snapping against her bottom.
�Oh! She has been hurt!� Sherry said. There was mockery in her
voice. Becky rubbed her ass, her fingers sliding up and down over the
black fabric of her panties.
�Go clean yourself off,� Steve said to Sherry. He cupped Becky�s
head in his hand. �I�ll take her into the bedroom,� Steve said. He glanced
at Mark. The young man was naked except for his shoes and socks. There
was sperm on his dick, his balls, on the couch under him and on the carpet.
�And clean him too,� Steve said.
�With my tongue?� Sherry teased.
�Quickly. She will not remain agreeable for long,� Steve told his
wife. He held Becky tightly. Walking in step with her, he guided her
toward the bedroom he shared with his wife.
All was in readiness. It was a big bed, with fine brass headboards
that glowed with a golden glow as the sun set beyond the bedroom window.
There were few cars on the road. But Steve, to be safe, went and pulled
the window closed, and drew the curtains over them, as Becky stood
trembling by the bed.
Steve turned. He saw Becky staring at the whip lying across the
twin pillows of the bed. It was black, jet black, like the panties that
hugged her quivering bottom and like her fishnet stockings.
�Yes,� Steve said. �As you can see there is salve and such on the
nightstand for afterwards.
�A- Afterwards?� Becky asked. Steve saw that her knees were
trembling. He saw her eyes dart from the whip on the pillows to ropes,
white ropes, looped around the brass bars of the headboard, their ends
dangling down over the pillows. Two ropes at the base of the bed waited
for her feet.
�Yes,� Steve said. He directed Becky�s gaze to the nightstand beside
the bed, pointing with his finger. �Ointment, salve, things to help your
bottom heal. It will be a woman�s bottom then, experienced, not a little
girl�s bottom anymore like you have now.� Becky�s hands, which had fallen
to her sides, flew back to her ass once more.
�I don�t want a woman�s bottom,� she gasped.
�Your ass will be as lovely as before, but it will no longer be
innocent,� Steve said. �After it heals, that is,� he added. �The creams
and such will help it heal more quickly.� Becky�s eyes, already wide, grew
bigger as they fell upon a stick. It lay on the nightstand, the jars of
ointment close-packed around it. Yet even with it half-hidden, Becky
could make out enough of it to feel a sudden fear in her already quailing
belly. The stick had several balls fixed to it, as if meatballs, skewered by
the stick. The first ball was small but the others, in succession, loomed
larger and larger, until the last, which Becky could just make out over the
top of a jar, was as big as Steve�s fist.
�Wh- what�s that?� Becky asked. It was her turn to point. Steve
walked over to the table. He reached down between the jars and picked up
the stick.
�This?� he asked. Hastily Becky, still modestly clad in her panties
and stockings, nodded. Her naked breasts bounced on her chest.
�It�s for your ass too,� Steve told the young wife. He looked into her
big eyes. He held the stick with both hands and she watched it bend,
stiffly, like something made of aluminized rubber. The balls were shiny.
They would have been golden if the sun were still shining through the
window. Instead they were silver, mirror-like, but solid-looking. �After
you are whipped, I�m going to put this up you. Up your ass,� Steve told the
young wife. Becky clutched at her rear. �At lunch, this past week, your
husband told my wife about the difficulty he has had taking you there. You
refuse him and even when he gets you to agree, you are too tight for him.
This will help.�
�Will- will it hurt?� Becky asked, her knees knocking together now,
in their black fishnet stockings, as her hands held her bottom as tightly as
they could.
�There is no progress without resistance,� Steve said. He smirked.
�Or, no pain, no gain, as they say.� Then he let off with the quotes and
looked at the trembling wife in all seriousness and said, �The implement
is designed to introduce your bottom slowly to the concept of being filled.
That is why the first ball is the smallest.�
�But- but the others--?� Betsy asked in a high-pitched voice.
�They will be well oiled,� Steve said. He indicated the vials and
pots on the nightstand.
�It will hurt!� Betsy shouted.
�Yes, it will hurt,� a female voice said. Betsy whirled about. Sherry
had entered the room. Mark�s sperm had been cleaned off the older woman
now, but she held Betsy�s husband by his penis and the man, stiff again,
looked as if he might cum in her hand. Awkwardly Mark looked at Betsy.
His eyes were embarrassed but glazed-over with pleasure. With a cry the
girl realized that Steve was her husband now, at least for the moment, and
he was gazing at her uncompromisingly, holding the stick in his hands that
had the balls of increasing size on it.
Sherry saw the panic in Betsy�s eyes. She felt pity for the young
wife. Suddenly, still holding Mark, but with obvious interest in Betsy�s
condition, she said,
�Sit down, Mark.� She pointed to a chair. It was made of hard wood,
but with a cushion on the seat, and tied to the back of it, where the back
rested. Both cushions were edged with frilly lace. �And you also, Becky,�
Sherry said, pointing to another chair, identical to the first. Steve looked
at his wife with perplexity.
�I�m going to serve crumpets and tea,� Sherry said. She gave her
husband a look that brooked no disobedience. This was a woman�s
decision, on behalf of another woman. �You sit down too, dear,� Sherry
said to her husband. �I�ll be back in a minute.�
Mark watched Sherry leave. He had no problem with sitting down. It
was wonderful to feel the soft cushion against his balls, and the fullness
of them, despite his earlier ejaculation. He had waited all week to cum
and he still had a lot to give. He looked at his wife lewdly, after Sherry
had left the room. Quietly she sat down on a chair opposite his. Steve,
looking glum, sat down on a chair next to Becky. The thing with the balls
on it was still in his hands. Becky gave it a sidelong glance. She drew her
legs together and sat up very straight in her chair.
�I see you�ve got something there,� Mark, half-drunk with pleasure,
said to Steve.
�Yes. For your wife,� Steve answered. Mark�s eyes widened.
�Oh!� Mark said.
�What you said to my wife earlier, about your wife�s inexperience,�
Steve continued, speaking in half sentences now, his cock bothering him
with its stiffness, gazing across the bedroom at Mark�s dick, hard like his
own, but not with the edge of pleasure denied that he felt. Becky quivered
in her seat beside him. He could feel the warmth of her body.
�You�re going to--?� Mark asked.
�Yes,� Steve said. �Up her butt.�
�Oh!� Becky cried. She stood up. Her hands clapped themselves to
her bottom. Mark gazed at his wife�s muff, as did the man sitting next to
her. It was small and neat, the slight bulge of the matted hair just
noticeable through the front of her panties.
�Sit down,� Steve growled. He said it so violently, like a
schoolmaster who would give no excuses, that Becky, frightened, plopped
back into her chair. But now she was sitting on her hands. Her breasts,
thrust out by her posture, quivered nakedly. Steve saw that the tips were
hard, as did Mark.
�You are excited,� Steve said. He had noticed how Becky�s panties
had looked when she had been standing, a slight stain darker than the
surrounding fabric down where her cuntlips folded between her thighs. He
gazed from her black panties to her white breasts. �You are excited,�
Steve said again.
�No!� Becky said. She tried looking at Steve but then turned her head
quickly away. Even Mark, speaking now, repeating Steve�s words, could not
get her to look at him either.
�You are going to be the center of attention, in a few minutes, and I
think something about that, about being naked in front of me, in front of
my wife, excites you. Above and beyond the excitement you feel for your
husband,� Steve said to the girl. �You like the idea of being made to be
naughty, don�t you?� Steve asked Becky. �You like the idea of being
stripped bare, of being bound to the bed like a young heifer, of being struck
on your naked little ass, which everyone has admired since you first
started filling out. Even though you don�t know what it�s going to feel
like, even though I�ve warned you how uncompromising I am, and how it
will hurt, still, even so, you are aroused by the idea of making a spectacle
of your ass, of feeling your breasts wiggle mercilessly under you as my
wife-- yes, my wife! makes your bottom bounce.�
�Stop!� Becky yelled, sitting on her hands on the soft cushion of the
chair.
�What? Hmmm?� Sherry asked. She strode into the room. She
carried a tray. Mark and Steve looked instinctively at the tray and then,
just as quickly, their eyes fell to her bare belly, behind the tray, and
below that, to her bare blonde muff, neatly trimmed between her white-
stockinged thighs.
�You have a beautiful wife,� Mark said to Steve.
�Thanks,� Steve answered.
�Oh! I want one!� Becky, perhaps with an urgency designed to
recover herself as the centerpiece of the room, suddenly called out. One
of her hands flew out from under her bottom. She reached up to the tray,
which was within an arm�s length reach, and plucked an item from it. It
was a sugared crumpet.
�A British snack. I think they invented the use of a whip on a girl�s
bottom, didn�t they, dear?� Sherry smiled.
�The French,� Steve answered. Sherry walked over to Mark. The
young husband gazed lovingly up at her, staring at her breasts hanging over
the tray.
�Take one,� Sherry said. She giggled as Mark reached past the tray
for her right tit. Quickly she stepped back. �You�re too randy,� she
scolded. She re-crossed the room to her husband. Becky, eating her
crumpet, had dribbled white sugar not only on her bare breasts but also on
her black panties, down on the bulge of her matted pubic hair.
�Such a messy eater,� Sherry said. She let her husband take a
crumpet from the tray. There were four cups of coffee on the tray and he
helped himself to one of those too. And then, gallantly, knowing she would
want it in a moment, he took a cup of coffee for Becky, sitting beside him,
balancing the crumpet he�d taken on his thigh.
�I want one,� Mark called from across the room.
�I�m coming,� Sherry said. �Again.� She laughed.
When their snack was over, the sun setting now beyond the closed
bedroom curtains, casting a warm ruddy glow that made the curtains blood
red, it was time. They all knew it. They stared at each other in the
gathering dusk in the room. Becky was sitting on her hands again, but her
wide eyes showed a new confidence. It may have only been the caffeine in
the coffee but she was no longer wilting, no longer weak and teary-eyed,
no longer needing to press her face against Steve�s chest. Across the
room from her Sherry sat in her husband�s lap. She watched as the other
woman stroked her husband�s hard cock but it did not seem to bother her,
she accepted it, feeling the heat from Steve�s body as he sat close by her,
holding her coffee cup from her, which she had drained.
�Stand up,� Steve said to Becky in the quiet of the bedroom. She
obeyed. She was aware of all their eyes on her. She, like Sherry, still
wore her shoes, black high-heeled shoes in contrast to Sherry�s white
ones. The shoes gave an extra elevation to her bottom and she turned
slightly in them, showing herself off, letting their eyes drink in her figure
and, especially, her jutting black-pantied bottom.
�Get on the bed,� Sherry, still in Mark�s lap, said gently to the girl.
Becky walked the few steps to the side of the bed facing her. Still she
could feel all their eyes on her bottom, and as she mounted the bed,
throwing her knee up onto it and crawling up in it with her ass raised high,
Sherry, admiring her behind from across the room, said, �The panties.�
�Oh!� Becky sighed. She stopped. She raised herself up, on her knees
but with her back straight now. She reached back behind herself. Like a
child unwrapping a present, slowly, savoring the first glimpses of it, she
drew down the back of her undies. There was a soft exhalation in the
room, three mouths whispering in admiration. Becky�s ass was white, as
white as Sherry�s, but smaller, childlike, high and round and impishly
thrusting. Becky drew her panties down to the crease of her flesh at the
bottom of her behind. And then she pulled them lower, down past her
stockinged thighs to her knees, the bit of fabric caught between the lips
of her pussy snapping now as it was yanked out of her cunt.
�Oh!� Betsy sighed again, at the feel of the panties leaving her
pussy, snapping down along the insides of her thighs. Betsy pulled her
panties over her knees, crawling forward again on the bed. When her
panties were down by her shoes she looked perplexed. She was going to
roll over, onto her lovely white ass, onto her back, but Steve, rising up,
stopped her. Touching a hand to her bare back he said,
�No.� He pulled Becky�s panties off her shoes as she waited, on her
knees, infant-like, waiting to crawl forward the last few inches to the
head of the bed. Steve held up Becky�s panties when they were off her.
Sherry and Mark smiled. They admired the bit of fabric, seeing its wet
spot in the crotch. As for Becky, she put her head down on the pillow, on
top of the whip. She let her bottom ride high behind her, a white moon in
the bedroom for all to see.
Sherry stood up. Mark�s dick quavered like a tuning fork as she left
it behind, unclasping it. She walked over to the bed, to the side that had
the nightstand next to it, the side opposite her husband. Gently she
reached down and took hold of the back of Becky�s head. By her hair she
lifted the girl�s head slightly, gripping her hair close. She withdrew the
whip from under Becky�s face.
�Tie her,� Sherry told her husband. Steve went quickly to work.
Becky, fearful now, tried sucking her thumb but it was rudely pulled from
her mouth and the man, who had admitted to her that he did not love her,
bound her wrists in front of her to the headboard. Then he bound her feet,
letting her keep her bottom high but tying her ankles so that her legs were
spread wide. Becky felt the air of the room upon her bottom, upon her
forced-apart bottom crack. She shivered. She was naked except for her
stockings and shoes. She looked back behind herself. Over the split-
cheeked hump of her white ass she could see her panties. Steve had
gaudily hung them over a lampshade, on a tall lamp at the back of the
room. They were on display, like her bottom, arranged so that even the
wet spot in their crotch showed. �She will need to be gagged,� Sherry told
her husband. �I don�t want her biting her tongue in two.� Steve complied.
His eyes were glazed now too, like Mark�s, though he worked very quickly
because he was so desperate to cum, unlike the younger man. Becky,
looking up at Steve, past the rebar of his penis, saw the strange light in
his eyes. As he fitted the gag into her mouth she realized he was no
longer himself now, was drunk on passion. Anything might happen to her
now and he might not even notice until it was too late. Quickly she turned
her head back, looking over her shoulder again. Sherry stood behind her.
But she was rubbing herself, and her eyes had a definite look of uncaring
pleasure in them, her hand down at her crotch, leading herself by her
cuntlips toward her first orgasm of the night.
�No!� Becky cried. But nobody heard or, rather, they just heard a
strangled gasp, deep down in her slender throat, as Sherry, still rubbing
herself, raised the whip. �No!� Becky cried again. It was too late. As both
Steve and Mark grabbed their dicks, the whip fell.
30
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