Naughty naked dreamgirls

 

Abundant towels waited in folded bliss to be used. Juliette
unfurled one, plush and blue, and laid it by the side of the tub for us to
rest our bottoms on. Then, as Sir L and I sat down, dangling our feet
into the vacant tub, Juliette unfolded a second towel. Or, rather, she
simply tossed it, letting it unfurl itself as it fell haphazardly onto the
marble floor. It fell near a vase of pretty flowers. For a moment I
thought it might hit the flowers. They were roses, mixed with
poinsettias, held in a fragile carnelian vase.
“For you, when we’re ready,” Juliette said simply to me, meaning
the towel next to the vase.
“Yes,” I replied. She got Sir L and I drinks. I sipped mine,
she swallowed hers.
“You might wish to be drunk,” Juliette said meaningfully to me.
She sat down next to me, refilled her glass, passed the bottle to Sir L,
who had downed his own in one gulp.
“How do you feel?” Sir L asked me. My thigh just touched his. I
glanced at his rod, straining in its excitement between his hairy thighs,
a projectile at least 10 inches in length.
“Fine, right now,” I replied. I tried to drink my champagne a
little more boldly.
“That is good,” he said. “You feel no pain?”
“No,” I replied. I felt young, like a newborn foal, awkward and
yet alive, so alive. Always before a storm the air is at its freshest,
cleanest. The wind picks up and blows through your hair and you know the
lightning will strike soon.
“Do you wish to be cuffed? Gagged?” Juliette asked me. Her eyes
looked so innocent, her words so smoothly delivered. “We have those
here.”
P: No. She wishes to be fucked! FUCK HER!!!
F: You just wanna see some more cock, Peevis.
“No,” I replied.
“You wish to play with yourself while it happens?” Sir L asked
me. “It is easier for a girl that way sometimes,” Juliette said.
“Maybe,” I said. “I do not really know. I have not…”
“It is wise of you to do it,” Sir L replied. “It will give you a
new sense of yourself.”
“Yes,” I said. “Like Spring Break, the first time. You party,
you get drunk, stoned. You can’t exactly remember the boy you slept with
the next day, but you know it was wonderful.”
“Mmmm, if he wore a condom,” Juliette said, with a smirk.
“Well, then I suppose you simply wouldn’t remember his NAME, but
you mightn’t have known that in the first place,” I said. I was
fantasizing a little, embroidering my thoughts with stories other, more
experienced girls had told me back home.
“Had enough?” Juliette asked. She reached out, took hold of my
glass. I relinquished it. I could see she was eager to begin. She was
not as hesitant about her sexuality as I was. Neither was Sir L.
“Juliette, this is going to be quite painful,” Sir L said to me.
His voice was frank, bold. He made to stand, rose with his cock waggling
its majestic beauty before my eyes. I remained sitting. Juliette took me
under my arm and lifted me slowly, awkwardly to my feet. We were all
barefoot. The bathroom walls muffled the sound of our speaking. Echoed
it within, but beyond, beyond the door Sir L had locked, I knew nothing
could be heard. It was the ultimate privacy. Just us, our nudity. Even
the servant would be unaware of our games. Unheard I would scream within
these four walls. There would be, I guessed, no mercy. No witnesses.
Did I want that? I wanted someone else to decide, that I knew.
I shivered. I faced Sir L. Juliette hovered behind me, admiring
my ass.
“It will be a challenge,” Sir L said to me.
F: “It will be a challenge!”
P: Shut up, Futthead. I’m hard now. This is the time to be serious.
F: When you’re not thinking about my cock, you’re thinking about yours…
I nodded. Silently, submissively I nodded. Juliette quietly took to
pinning up my hair. “Most challenges in life involve studying, like in
school, and certainly require the wearing of clothes. Even the proper
wearing of clothes.” His eyes savored my nudity as he spoke. My breasts
rose and fell softly on my chest with each of my childish breaths. I was
breathy, excited. I could feel a swirling in my belly. My nipples were
as hard as I could ever have imagined them to be. Sir L’s cock stood out
just as forcefully, quivering at the brink of some deep need, some intense
pleasure.
“Here, of course, no clothes are required,” Juliette said behind
me. “They are not allowed. Your parents would never approve, Melody,”
Juliette said to me.
“I know,” I gulped.
“Would you like another glass of champagne before we begin?” Sir
L said. “It is not too much to ask.” He spoke as if his doing of a favor
for me was a great privilege that he was conferring upon me. An honor.
“Okay,” I said. My voice was lispy. He got the champagne,
filled my glass, gave it to me. He held on to it as I sipped, then drank
more, Sir L forcing me to take it at an ever increasing rate, tilting the
glass farther and farther. My throat worked as I tried to get it all.
Some spilled, splattered to the floor.
“Tsk,” Juliette said.
“It is not good to waste such expensive champagne,” Sir L told
me. The game had begun. I was a victim now. It was my role, my duty.
“Go to the towel,” Juliette said. She spoke from behind me. My
bottom cheeks clenched, drew in as her words washed over me. With
wobbling, fearful cheeks I walked to the towel. My special towel, next to
the flowers. I knelt down upon it.
“All fours, face on the towel,” Sir L told me. I bent over, my
knees on the towel, my back bending until my face pressed to the floor.
Right on the edge of the towel my face was, just my cheek touching it, my
forehead over the hard, glassy marble. My hands gripped the towel, my
arms drew in, squeezing my sides. My wrists pressed against my hanging
bosoms. My nipples sprouted into the towel, felt comfort there. I would
sew new designs on the towel with my nipples.
Juliette picked up the birch rod. She whisked it through the
air, testing it. Her eyes gazed at me, challenging eyes, her lips smiled
a rueful smile. Did she wish to be in my place? I was a rabbit. I was,
indeed, the center of attention. Sir L watched me, not her. I sensed
jealously in her movements. She would control mine now, make me respond
to her. For Sir L. For his pleasure.
I crossed one of my ankles over the other, trying to hide my
cunt. It stared back at them, I knew, tucked just under my bottom,
tempting Sir L to cease my punishment before its time, plunge himself in,
forget Juliette.
“Open your legs, you slut!” Juliette barked at me. She swung the
birch, glided it menacingly over my arse, just missing. I uncrossed my
ankles. Tentatively I opened my thighs.
“What makes you think you’re so special, hiding yourself like
that?” Juliette asked me. She had not forgotten my haphazard
disobedience. “Can’t you see my cunt?” I could. Between her legs it
lay, sweetly, she arched her hips forward for me to see it better. “And
Sir L?” Well, he was obvious, as all men are. “Wider! Let us really see
your private. This is a bathroom, god-dammit! Do you think this is the
sanctuary of a church? Do you think you’re on an alter before God? Get
those legs really WELL open, bitch! Just like you want them to be. Just
like you know they have to be for Sir L to fuck you properly!”
As she swung the birch ever closer, sending shivers up my spine,
I spread my legs as far as I could. I was trembling with fear. I could
not believe I was doing this.
Juliette whisked her birch up over my curving hiney, touching it
now, just barely. I quivered as the little buds pricked at my soft
cheeks. I was bare, so bare, before these naked little buds. They would
hurt so badly. I sucked in my breath. It was my last moments, free of
pain, free of anything except an immense longing.
“This will hurt like the dickens, Melody,” Juliette said to me,
suddenly compassionate. I gazed up at her tall, nude figure, all curves
and slimness, her boobs sticking out like twin melons, her legs open to
display her lovely bush. Nothing was hidden between us. And nothing
would be, either, once that awful birch rod started in on its task. I
would be but blubbering flesh before her then, crying, pleading. In my
humbleness I would ask for forgiveness.
Sir L passed something to Juliette. A mouth guard. “Such pretty
teeth,” she said. She bent low, her breasts swinging. She inserted it
into my hesitant lips. “Bite down,” she said. “Offer your bottom now,
up, show me how wanton and bad it is. Tsk, tsk. Something must be done
about your attitude, girl.” In the distance Sir L began stroking himself.
He was pleased by my posture, but would not say so. It might reduce my
punishment.
Juliette took up position behind me. She gave one final slash at
the air with her birch. Then, gazing wilfully at me, she aimed. She
struck.
I glimpsed it gliding in, as if in slow motion. And then it
seared across my hiney. I lurched forward. I thought for a second that a
horde of bees had come zinging into the lavatory. I bucked forward, my
bottom reared up like a mare in heat. Bounding back down again, I
received another. Wicked stings, all over my ass. The flight of the
bumblebees, without the music.
“How do you feel now? Does it hurt?” Sir L asked me. I looked
up at him in my nakedness, tears in my eyes. I gagged, murmured over the
bit in my mouth. It was there for my protection. It kept me silent.
“Give her another,” Sir L said. “She will ask forgiveness soon
enough.”
WHACK! I bounced, my fanny cheeks flexed, contracted, bulged
out. My eyes squeezed shut. I felt flaring bites all over my precocious
rump. I sobbed, spit out my bit. “No more!” I cried.
“Six at least,” Juliette replied, and told me to ask for the
next.
I shook, I sobbed. Valiantly I tried to maintain my posture.
Bent, submissive, the perfect pose for deep fucking. Sir L gently
replaced my bit in my mouth.
“Ask,” he said. “Say it. I can hear you.” Finally, squeezing
my cheeks, releasing them, squeezing again in self-protection, I asked for
the next. A murmur, that was all. But he understood.
“Go,” Sir L told his lover. She swung in and cracked me hard
against my hiney.
“Oh, woh!” I gasped. It stung beyond belief. I scampered off my
towel, howling, my bottom waggling like a newly branded heifer’s.
Juliette ran after me. Barefoot she ran, her mane flying. Her
arms were slim, elegant. She came upon me cowering in a corner. There
was nothing but stern marble walls around, behind me, Juliette in front.
“Get back to your towel,” she ordered.
“No, that’s all!” I cried. My mouth guard lay out beyond me,
dropped. My hair tumbled in strands down over my eyes. I wished to hide
within it.
Juliette reached down, caught me by my hair. She pulled on it.
“Owwww!” I cried. Like a dog she dragged me back to the towel.
She made me reposition myself. I sobbed the whole time, pleading. My
breasts shook like ripe gourds about to fall from the vine. In the storm.
In the wind of the storm.
SWAAACK! She did not wait for the perfect pose. Unpoised,
bawling, she gave me my next stroke. I was a baby now. A baby in the
delivery room. Getting my bottom smacked. A new life in a new world.
WHAAAAACK! A final tribute across my ass. A loving swipe, coming up
underneath me, lifting me by my tenderest portions up into the air,
hitting me right where my ass liked to crease into my thighs. Where my
cunt lay. Nipping just the outermost bit of my fig. I shrieked. I leapt
up. My hands flew to my ass. Running barefoot across the floor I ran to
my corner again, huddled in it. I glanced back over my shoulder, saw them
gazing at me, laughing. I rubbed my heinie with brisk hands, tears
streaming. I danced from foot to foot upon the cold marble floor,
wishing. Wishing the paint would go away, please go away, it hurt so
much.
“When you’re done fooling around, its your turn to do me,”
Juliette smiled. She tossed the battered birch rod at my feet. It slid
on the marble floor. I flinched, drew away from it, deeper into my
corner.
Sir L took Juliette into his arms. They kissed. They looked
like Adam and Eve. Was I the snake? Sir L had the snake, pressed up
against Juliette’s belly. For a long while they kissed, me their naughty
child, standing in the corner, weeping over my scorched ass. Did some
parents punish their children this way? I wondered. It was erotic,
wholesome somehow. Everyone naked as jaybirds, punishing each other for
made-up sins in the privacy of the bath.
Juliette knelt, brushed back her hair. She bent over the gold
faucet on the tub and got it running. She sprinkled in bubble bath. Sir
L came, got me, guided me over to the towel where I had so recently paid
my penance. Still rubbing my bottom, I bent and picked up the birch.
Juliette rose from the faucet and walked over to me. She was chic,
graceful. She smiled at me, a bit uppity. Then she got down on the
towel, and offered me an elegant pose. Her ass spread before me. Her
face dropped onto the towel, wet with my tears. She reached back and
pulled her fanny cheeks apart. She smiled at me, then stunned me by
letting out a little fart. I was shocked. Sir L laughed. “You’d better
punish her for that,” he advised me.
P: Hey, what happened to the story?!
F: It’s over, Peevis.
P: But I need at least one more ‘Roller Intellectual Moment!’
F: Maybe he’ll read Alice in Wonderland, or something.
P: Yeah, Alice at least has a hole in it, and somebody going into it.
F: Two people, actually.
P: Whoa, now you’re getting kinky.
F: Well, one’s a rabbit.
P: Cool, man! Lemme see if I can find that one on a.s.s.!