Message-ID: <34122asstr$1008627005@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
Return-Path: <news@newsread1.prod.itd.earthlink.net>
X-Original-Path: not-for-mail
X-Original-Message-ID: <E6E62DDF.5E7@earthlink.net>
From: Andrew Roller <roller666@earthlink.net>
Reply-To: roller666@earthlink.net
MIME-Version: 1.0
Content-Transfer-Encoding: 8bit
NNTP-Posting-Date: Mon, 17 Dec 2001 02:31:38 PST
X-ASSTR-Arrival-Date: Mon, 17 Dec 2001 10:31:38 GMT
Subject: {ASSM} A Virgins Last Hours, chapter eight
Date: Mon, 17 Dec 2001 17:10:05 -0500
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d
X-Archived-At: <URL:http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/Year2001/34122>
X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation <story-ckought69@hotmail.com>
X-Story-Submission: <ckought69@hotmail.com>
X-Moderator-ID: dennyw, gill-bates
- NND ---------------------------------------------------------
Visit my FTP site: http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Roller/ <--click
Click, or put the address into your browser. All my stories are there.
---------------------------------------------------------------
Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
A Virgin's Last Hours
Chapter Eight
He was young and fit and athletic, just the kind she
liked. She had seen him perform at a football game the other
night, and he had done superbly, even scoring a touchdown, though
he was just a lineman. He was in high school, which meant he was
illegal. But since he was in high school, of course, he would
never tell a soul.
As the girls suffered their torments upstairs, thinking
they must be suffering more than anyone else in the world, he was
arriving. Miss Brookhaven would show the girls clips of his stay
tomorrow, to prove she was not as remorseless as she then seemed
to them. Or, rather, that she was even more remorseless,
torturing both women and men with equal relish.
The doorbell rang. Miss Brookhaven, who was then
sitting in the parlor entertaining a new batch of guests who had
arrived just a little earlier, said,
"If you will please excuse me." She hurried to her
front door. She opened it. The young man, who had been standing
outside whistling a vacant tune and wondering if this was the
right house and if he should leave even if it was, suddenly found
a very beautiful woman standing in front of him.
"Oh hello!" he said. He pointed, awkwardly, at the
woman who was dressed all in black, with long silken sleeves and
a high collar, lace trimmings at the end of her sleeves to give
her an added touch of delicacy. She looked like a china vase,
tall and slender, with her long dark hair piled up high on top of
her head. No sooner, of course, did the young man glance into
the woman's gorgeous face than his eyes darted involuntarily
downward, and lingered. Her bust was stupendous. His interest
in it was inconcealable. She laughed and told him to come in out
of the cold night air.
In the living room, she had the man sit down. One of
her new guests had found a dildo in her absence and, upon hearing
her return, had hastily tossed it into a chair. Miss Brookhaven
pointed to a chair for the man to sit in, then saw the errant
dildo lying there. She laughed. She went over to the chair and
picked it up. The joke was especially funny, especially to the
guests, for they had already been told by the dark-haired woman
what she had planned for her newest guest. The young man was
clueless. He sat down in the chair, his recognition of the dildo
only enhancing his desire to fuck. Yes, this was the right
house. He was very sure of it now.
"You performed admirably the other night," Miss
Brookhaven complimented the young man, who went by the slightly
odd first name of Taylor, when he was seated and a beautiful
young girl had served drinks.
"Thanks," Taylor said.
"You took quite a lot of punishment," Miss Brookhaven
said, sitting forward in her chair, as if in eagerness to discuss
the young man's efforts on the field. The young man, savoring
his first taste of liquor for the evening, for he was only 17 and
the drinking age was 21 in New York, said,
"It's nothing. It's my job." Miss Brookhaven's eyes
glowed. Her other guests, who had embarrassed themselves somewhat
laughing over the dildo, did their best to suppress a new round
of giggles.
"I'll bet the girls were eager to have you after the
game," Miss Brookhaven said to Taylor. He squirmed in his chair.
His crotch, which had already been hard even before he rang her
doorbell, and was now even more visibly turgid, grew another half
in between his legs, straining his pants.
"Yeah," Taylor said. In fact, he had broken up with his
girlfriend, who was pissed to find him necking with two
cheerleaders who were only freshmen. He had only made love twice
in his life. Miss Brookhaven glanced at her guests. This was
the moment, if she wished to hurry things along, and from the
look of the young man's pants, she would have to. She didn't want
him to spoil himself.
"Tonight I would like to introduce you to the darker
side of love," Miss Brookhaven said. She gazed at the young man,
seemingly into his soul. He flinched. His crotch grew even
larger. "Are you game?"
"Sure," the young man answered. And Miss Brookhaven
smiled, for he could not have said anything else for all the
money in the world. The guests did not laugh. His rank
innocence, clad in his handsome frame, was too awe inspiring for
laughter. Miss Brookhaven rose. She extended her hand to the
young man. Her hand was so small and perfect he hesitated for a
moment to take it. He didn't want to hurt it. When she had him
in hand she had him stand and walk with her down a short hall and
into a small room. It was a room with a single wooden bench and
a mirror, a clothes cabinet narrowly fitted into one wall.
"Undress here," Miss Brookhaven said, standing with
Taylor in the close confines of the room, the open door allowing
her voice to drift back to her ardently listening guests. "Take
everything off. Everything," she added, with emphasis.
"Should I put on a rubber?" the young man asked, his
eyes gaping with innocence, reaching back to grab at the condom
packet in his back pocket.
"No. Then you would not be completely naked," Miss
Brookhaven smiled. She turned. She paused in the doorway. She
looked back at him and added,
"And oh-- no little accidents, please. When you come
your stay will be over, although you're always welcome to come
again." She laughed. The young man laughed, nervously. He
grabbed at his pant's belt buckle. The moment the door closed he
was already out of his trousers.
"Relax. Except for your penis of course," Miss
Brookhaven was saying to Taylor several minutes later, when he
was again in the company of her guests. They sat in the parlor,
everyone as before, everyone dressed. Except, of course, for
Taylor, who tried to sit back in his chair but whose penis was at
rigid attention. It was as big as Miss Brookhaven had hoped, a
solid ten inches, at least by sight measurement. She intended to
take a more detailed measurement in a minute. She would also put
what hung under his cock on a small little scale, in front of her
guests who could verify the figure for her, to weigh his balls.
A postal scale would be sufficient, though it would obviously be
pushed to the outer limits of its abilities.
More drinks were served. The young man had an
embarrassed and puzzled look on his face. He felt like a kind of
object d' art, with both the women and men interested most in
what always seemed to interest people who gazed at a statue of
David, except Taylor was more sumptuously displaying himself.
His cock quivered on the air. His balls felt as if hot lead had
been poured into them, they were so full and heavy. This was
quite unlike high school, with its hot pettings, rarely leading
to anything more than a "quickie" on the back seat. This was
civilized, decadent, alluring in its wickedness. When the young
maid served more drinks Miss Brookhaven had her put a linen
handkerchief under Taylor's cock so he would not drip so much on
the seat of his chair.
"Your penis is wonderful," Miss Brookhaven said to
Taylor. He was already blushing, and his blush deepened.
"Thanks," he said.
"We are like that here. We freely discuss people's
assets, I mean what is kept private elsewhere. We comment on
them and of course only those with the best are invited in the
first place."
"Yes," Taylor said, feeling a little dizzy as he drank
his latest cocktail. He didn't know what it was. But it seemed
to go right to his cock and make it stand up even harder, if that
was possible.
"Unfortunately I like men as much for what they can
receive as what they can put out," Miss Brookhaven said to
Taylor. The young man raised an eyebrow. What was this? Miss
Brookhaven continued: "You are sitting on that part of yourself
which interests me most at the moment. Your ass, I mean."
"Oh," Taylor said. He squirmed again, his cock in full
view now, waving like a flagpole.
"Specifically your ass hole," Miss Brookhaven said.
"Oh!" Taylor gasped, and it took quite an effort on the
part of the guests not to laugh.
"Do you remember the dildo lying in your chair when you
arrived?" Miss Brookhaven asked Taylor.
"Uh, yeah," Taylor said, and added, "I think so," as if
to disown the memory, though he remembered it quite well. It was
the first time he'd ever seen a dildo, outside of photos in
Penthouse.
"I want to stick it up your ass," Miss Brookhaven said.
She smiled more broadly. She knew she had him. He looked
alarmed, as if he wanted to leave, but with his cock so hard he
would never even be able to get his pants on.
"You're kidding," Taylor said.
"No I'm not," Miss Brookhaven said, in a soft, quiet
voice, as delicate as her china-white figure. "You may resume
sitting after the dildo is in. You will wear it for the entire
night, or as long as I think you can stand it. I want to stretch
your ass a little, for I know a young man like you must never
have had anything up it before, and I want to train it to take a
penis."
"A what?!" Taylor asked.
"A good hard cock," Miss Brookhaven said. "And the
sperm that goes with it. We all give and receive here, without
respect for what may, or may not, be in the front of the body.
An ass is an ass, as I like to say, and they should all be
trained to participate. You will be able to partake more freely
of our orgies here when your bottom is able to receive."
"I didn't come here to--" Taylor began, anger coloring
his handsome face.
"I know you didn't," Miss Brookhaven said. Her voice
was harsh now, commanding. "But the essence of our mission here
is to fuck. In all possible ways. You could be a top performer,
but you must be brave. Stand up. If you insist on being willful
I can deal with that." She turned to her guests, calm, as if the
young man were suddenly not there, not angry, not frowning and
looking about to tackle her. "If you will excuse me," she said
in her soft, quiet voice, seemingly concluding the most civilized
of evening teas.
"What do you want?" Taylor was snapping a moment later,
as Miss Brookhaven stood over him, gazing down at him in her
chair, dripping his precum onto her linen handkerchief.
"We are going to go to a special room I have. Just you
and me," Miss Brookhaven said. Then she reached up and took hold
of her blouse's collar. She looked at the young man, who still
seemed about to attack her. With one fell swoop her delicate
hands ripped open the front of her blouse. Her breasts, luscious
gourds, still perky despite her maturity, spilled out above his
face. His jaw dropped. A moment later she tore apart the front
of her delicate skirt, revealing slender black silk panties that
barely concealed her pubis, tying at the sides of her hips in
sexy bows. She wore boots beneath her ruined skirt, knee-high
boots as if for riding. Thrust through the right side of her
undies was a short whip, a thin handle with an even thinner
leather switch. She shook off her torn clothing, leaving herself
in just the panties and boots, her hair piled up atop her head.
She grabbed the whip. She pulled it from her underwear, setting
the delicate garment askew, revealing more of her pubic hair.
She dangled the crop in front of the young man's eyes. He was no
longer looking angry now. He was looking scared, and
simultaneously aroused.
"This is for your penis," Miss Brookhaven told Taylor.
"You will fetch the dildo."
"I--" Taylor gasped.
"Stand up!" Miss Brookhaven yelled. It was she who was
frowning now, her face red with anger. He knew he could reach
out and break her in two, he was so strong from football and she
was so delicate, save for her bust which hung over him like
promised Eden apples, albeit the size of watermelons. But he did
not; she was just too temptingly sexy. Instead, he rose, his cock
bouncing in eager anticipation.
"I am going to be very hard on you," Miss Brookhaven
said. "You will have bruises in the morning. In the most
uncomfortable places. But I can be sweet too," she said,
suddenly purring like a cat and reaching out and caressing his
face. She put her other hand very gently on his cock. He
shivered. Her touch was so luscious, he nearly spilled himself.
"You can always escape me very easily," Miss Brookhaven
reminded the young man. "Just spurt, and then your time here
will be finished. No dildo up the ass. No leather stinging your
penis." She ran her fingers along the underside of him, along
his length. He tensed and looked more frightened than ever.
"Shall I make you cum right now?" Miss Brookhaven asked Taylor.
"It would be so easy. So painless," she smiled. She stuck her
tongue between her teeth.
"NO!" Taylor shouted. The guests laughed. Miss
Brookhaven looked down and withdrew her hand.
"Alright," she said. Taylor looked down at himself, at
his urgent erection. The lady was right. One or two more flicks
from her fingers and it would be over for him. Painlessly,
effortlessly. Yet he feared cumming, and missing out on anything
further, more than he feared being tortured!
"If you don't wish to spill, then this way please," Miss
Brookhaven said. She reached for Taylor's hand. He let her take
it. He shivered. He looked back at the guests as she led him
from the parlor. Their eyes were fixed now on his behind. It
was like twin buns, fresh and tight from the oven, like
restaurant buns that are still stuck together and must be pulled
apart.
"Good luck," one of the guests called to him.
"Thanks," Taylor mumbled.
Miss Brookhaven stopped suddenly. She looked up at
Taylor. A smile came to her lips, wry, sweet at the same time.
"We forgot the dildo," Miss Brookhaven said. They
turned around. They went back to the guests. One of them had
the dildo in hand, lying on her chair next to her thigh. She
picked it up. She handed it to the young man.
"Say thank you," Miss Brookhaven said to Taylor. He
looked at her and blushed, then looked at the guest.
"Thank you," Taylor murmured. Miss Brookhaven turned
around, still holding Taylor's hand. She led him out of the
room, the guests looking again at his bare bottom, and now, also,
at what he held in his hand. They imagined the dildo in his hand
being forced up between his young virgin cheeks. It would be
painful; a tight, athletic ass like that would have difficulty
taking something up it for the first time. They longed to see it
done; to see not only the stretching and opening of him but also
the look on his face, the puffing of his cheeks, the desperate
rolling of his eyes, the urgent licking of his lips as he strove
to satisfy Miss Brookhaven's unnatural desires. And when he was
split and filled, when he had the thing up him, then perhaps the
final nail would be driven in; the ultimate sacrifice would be
required; a cock would be put to his lips, and his
spittle-wettened mouth would be made to take a cock down his
throat as he suffered to endure the one up his behind.
Beyond a sauna, past a room with a bubbling jacuzzi,
Miss Brookhaven showed Taylor a sumptuous bedroom. The coverlet
of the bed was made of fur. The sheets, showing a little because
the cover had been drawn back somewhat, were satin. A table next
to the bed displayed an array of condoms of various colors, and
beside them were tubes of oil and a pot of cream.
"If you survive my punishment room you will be installed
here," Miss Brookhaven said to Taylor, still holding his hand.
"The limitation on your spending will be lifted. You will then
be required not to hold back, once you have proven yourself, but
to pump yourself out, over and over again. Your penis and balls
will be the star; not your behind. Every luscious young thing,
and some not quite so young, will be brought to you. Females, I
mean. You will be required not to receive, as you will be
tonight, but to penetrate." She smiled up at him. "Yes, to
fuck. Occasionally I will bring a man to you to keep you
submissive. But mostly you will be king here, in this room, free
to use the females I bring you in whatever way you wish.
Required, indeed, to demonstrate the strength of your cock to
them in every way you can invent and imagine." She reached for
his penis and stroked it. "I hope you make it to this room," she
told him. "Several men have tried and failed. But I have the
highest hopes for you." She took him down the rest of the hall
and then through a door and down a flight of stairs. Taylor
found himself in a room that was mostly dark, until Miss
Brookhaven turned on the light. Suddenly he saw a room full of
every imaginable kind of equipment. At first he thought the
stuff was for exercising; the machines were large, like something
out of a fitness center. But as he looked closer, and his blood
ran cold, he realized this was the punishment room Miss
Brookhaven had spoken of. He noticed whips on one wall, beyond
the machines. He saw an array of dildos on a shelf, behind
another machine. He was still trying to make sense of what he
was seeing when Miss Brookhaven told him he would have to "pick
his poison," as she put it. Which machine would he like to be
tested on?
"My feet are cold," Taylor answered, for the basement
they were now standing in was not carpeted, like the rest of Miss
Brookhaven's house was. The dark-haired woman laughed and
pointed to an open closet. Taylor saw a collection of boots
there. Women's boots, and men's also.
"See which pair fits you," Miss Brookhaven told him.
"It is the one concession I'll grant you." Taylor went to the
closet. He rummaged among the boots. He found a pair that
looked like they might fit, boots a construction fellow might
wear, except they were new, not covered with mud and grime. They
would have to be broken in, he mused, and as he rose he saw a
pile of new rolled up socks in the corner of the closet.
"Get some of those also," Miss Brookhaven told him. "I
don't want your legs to be chafed by the boots."
"I don't need socks," Taylor said. He meant to turn
around and find someplace to sit down and put the boots on but
Miss Brookhaven said,
"No. I insist. You will wear socks with the boots."
So he picked up the socks. She directed him to a bench. He saw
an axe sitting next to the bench, as if he might, after putting
on the boots, be required to chop wood. The axe tempted him; he
wanted to pick it up and tell Miss Brookhaven who was boss, but
instead he sat down on the bench, which was a wooden bench, hard
against his behind, and he unrolled the socks and put them on.
Then he pulled on the boots, and he bent down to lace them and
tie them. Miss Brookhaven stood over him. He was aware of her
nudity, of the axe beside him, and something else too: his penis
was sticking out stiff and hard, close to his lips as he bent low
to tie his boots. When he was finished he stood up. Miss
Brookhaven admired the way his cock wobbled with his every
movement; bouncing especially hard as he stood. Then she told
him she would grant him another concession, something intended
not so much for his comfort as for his survival. She went to a
shelf and picked up a small leather bag. It had a string tied
around its top. She put her hands between his thighs and eased
the bag up over his heavy balls. When it was covering his
testicles, he watching with a mixture of delight and terror, she
tightened the string. He felt the top of the bag cinch itself
against the place where his balls connected to his crotch.
Tight, tighter she pulled the little strings, until Taylor
groaned. Then Miss Brookhaven tied them; telling him that this
would help him hold onto his sperm.
"There is a place where young men are put up for
auction," Miss Brookhaven said to Taylor, when the bag was tight
around his sperm sac. "Each boy who is up for sale has a bag
tied around his balls, to help him stay hard as his cock is
examined by everyone present. In certain circles I will dress
you like this, with a bag hiding your testicles, so we will not
seem overly lewd." Miss Brookhaven went to a shelf. She
returned with a cloth tape measure. She measured Taylor's cock
as he watched; it was ten and a quarter inches.
"Imagine yourself being measured like this on the
auction block, in front of dozens of eyes," Miss Brookhaven told
Taylor. "They will be impressed with your length." She returned
the tape measure to the shelf and returned with a postal scale,
used for weighing small packages and letters. She sighed, for
she had hoped to impress her guests with his weight, but they
were upstairs, and she did not want to go to the trouble of
calling them down. She put the postal scale under his
bag-covered balls, not minding that his weight would be increased
a little by the bag. She weighed him.
"Yum. You're carrying a lot," Miss Brookhaven smiled at
Taylor. When she had returned the scale to the shelf she told
him, "There is one other thing that is sometimes done. I will do
it with you when we visit other houses, to see other women.
Mistresses like myself." Miss Brookhaven went to a cabinet. She
opened it. Taylor saw that it was actually a refrigerator, and
to his heart-pounding surprise Miss Brookhaven returned with a
bottle of Kool-Wip. She shook the bottle, smiling at him. Then
she aimed carefully and depressed the top of the bottle with her
finger.
WHOOSH! Cold and wet, the Kool-Wip spurted out onto the
tip of Taylor's penis. Miss Brookhaven smiled at the way Taylor
jumped but managed to keep the stream focused on his cock. She
went down along his shaft now, and did not stop until the entire
length of him was covered with white stuff. When she was
finished she made him take the bottle. She untied her panties
and let them fall to the floor. Then she told him to squirt her
pubic hair, that she might be as modest as he. Taylor did as she
instructed, she gasped as she felt the cold cream splatter her
dark furry dell. He insisted on going down inbetween her legs
also, creaming the lips of her cunt. When he was finished she
took the bottle from him and returned it to the refrigerator. He
watched her ass as she walked. He looked at the dildo, which he
had laid down on the floor in front of the closet where the boots
were. If he still had it in his hand, he swore to himself, he
would have grabbed her from behind and shoved it up her.
"Pick which machine you wish to test yourself against,"
Miss Brookhaven told Taylor when she had put away the cream.
Taylor looked around. He decided to inspect what was on offer,
despite the fear he felt just looking at the stuff. Miss
Brookhaven said she would allow this; she held Taylor's hand as
he looked at every dangling chain, every waiting strap. Finally
he picked a big wheel which stood upright. It reminded him of
something he'd seen once in a Batman comic. He would be a
superhero, she would be the villain.
"Very good, an excellent choice," Miss Brookhaven smiled
to Taylor. "Stand with your back against the wheel. I'll get a
pillow for your head." He did as she asked. He noticed, as he
put his back to the edge of the wheel, that there were a series
of clasps running down along the wheel's edge. He wondered at
this. When his back was against the wheel's edge, which was
about six inches wide, he looked up and saw himself in a mirror
hanging from the basement ceiling. He gasped. There he was,
naked, with his back arched, making his cock stand out all the
more lewdly. The fact that his penis was covered in cream hardly
lessened the effect of seeing it; it stood out like a white
spear, as if ready for jousting. He noticed something else too,
as he stood with his back to the wheel. Although the wheel's
edge had width to it, to support his body, the wheel itself was
narrow. It was a thin sheet of steel, and all along one side of
it he could see the clasps, all seemingly waiting for something.
An image that came into Taylor's mind at this moment was of a
giant penny, which had one whole side ripped off of it and the
edge hollowed out, so that the clasps, when they were filled,
would be able to offer whatever they held right up through the
penny's edge.
"Here we go," Miss Brookhaven said. She returned with a
pillow. She put it behind Taylor's head, so that he would be
comfortable as he rested his head against the edge of the wheel.
Then she drew each of his arms up and back and fastened them with
straps waiting along the sides of the wheel. Next she drew out a
strap from the wheel's middle and buckled it like a belt around
Taylor's waist. Finally, bending down, she pulled Taylor's feet
backwards and tied them off against the wheel, so that his weight
was now thrown outward, not really supported by his feet any
longer but by the strap holding him round the waist. This, of
course, emphasized further the predicament of his cock, which
now, along with his hips, stuck out like something begging for
attention.
"Oh God," Taylor groaned.
"Like something out of the middle ages, isn't it?" Miss
Brookhaven laughed. "But I'm not finished with you yet. There's
one more item." Miss Brookhaven turned. As Taylor's heart
pounded, he watched her walk toward the closet where the boots
were. He wondered at that; he could not wear two pairs of boots.
Then he saw her bend down. The dildo! She picked it up, giving
him a glorious view of her ass as she bent. But it wasn't her
behind that would be on offer tonight. It was his, and she
walked back to him with gleaming eyes, stopping to pick up a
bottle of oil off a shelf as she came towards him.
"Look in the mirror above you," Miss Brookhaven said.
"You see those clasps? The ones arrayed along the wheel's edge?
They're for this: no matter what height the person is, once
they're against the wheel a clasp can be found to hold this
dildo. Or whatever dildo I choose. Now the only question is,
how far forward will I require the dildo to jut?"
"N- Not too far, I hope!" Taylor said.
"We'll see," Miss Brookhaven smiled. She oiled the
dildo, her fingers moving over it with loving care. Then she
went behind Taylor and found a clasp that would allow the dildo,
when inserted, to stick up between Taylor's ass cheeks. She slid
the dildo in and then pushed it forward. Taylor felt the oiled
nose of it press abruptly against his cheeks. He could hardly
open them; his cheeks were jammed together owing to his position.
But Miss Taylor twisted the dildo and wiggled it upward until
she gained some purchase between Taylor's bun-shaped bottom
cheeks. The young man felt the nose of the dildo jam its way up
into him until it touched his anus. Then Miss Brookhaven went
and got a hammer. She returned and whacked the base of the dildo
until its nose thrust through Taylor's sphincter. He cried out.
Miss Brookhaven laughed and kept hammering away until a good
several inches of the thing was stuck up inside Taylor. Then she
stopped and went round to the front of him and kissed his
perspiring face.
"Does it hurt?" Miss Brookhaven asked Taylor.
"Of course it hurts!" Taylor gasped.
"Now I'm going to undress you in the way in which you
will be undressed when we visit other women," Miss Brookhaven
said. She went and got a pillow. Taylor, of course, was wearing
nothing; he wondered what she meant. She plopped the pillow down
at his feet and knelt. Then, checking to make sure that the
little bag was still tight around his balls, she began to lick
his cock.
"Soon you'll be nice and clean, ready to be whipped,"
Miss Brookhaven said to Taylor.
"No!" Taylor cried.
With the first shuddering touch of Miss Brookhaven's
tongue to Taylor's cock, he thought he would lose himself. Yet
he held back, distracted in part by the pain of the thing stuck
up his ass. The woman took her time, tracing every throbbing
vein on his penis. When she had finally licked him clean she
went and got the little whip she'd been carrying earlier. She
brought it to him and dangled it in front of his eyes. Then she
struck him with it, not on his chest where he might have been
able to bear it, or on his thighs, but on his bare penis! Taylor
howled. Miss Brookhaven went and got her panties, which were
lying on the floor, an brought them to him and used them to stuff
up his mouth. Then she continued, stopping now and then to let
him savor the burning welts which she was creating on his rampant
manhood.
"This is your purpose in life," Miss Brookhaven said to
Taylor. "Not to get good grades or to go to school. But to be
weighed, measured, and tested, like this: physically. You are
doing well. When your cock is completely covered in welts then
we will be done. You will have passed the test. I will take you
upstairs to the bedroom and there you will be massaged and made
to feel comfortable. You will require a little bed rest to allow
your penis to recover. Then you will be ready to fuck, and to
receive, sometimes, those things which I will require your bottom
to take." She whacked him again. He howled, grateful for her
panties to damped his screams, that her guests might not hear his
pained cries. She continued whipping him until his cock was
completely red, every inch of it a burning mass of flesh. Who
could ever say, seeing Taylor now, that he repressed or dominated
women? He was stuck like a pig in his behind, his nuts tied off
and his cock flaming. He was a victim, a perfect victim who, in
his pain, had somehow managed not to spurt all over Miss
Brookhaven.
"Excellent," Miss Brookhaven said. "I want to take you
upstairs now and show you to my guests, show them what you have
endured." She untied him. She took along the postal scale and
the tape measure and when she had him in front of her guests, who
by now had taken to enjoying a fuck in the parlor, she measured
him and weighed him for them.
"He is as full now as when I weighed him beforehand,"
Miss Brookhaven reported to her guests. "Isn't he wonderful?"
"Yes!" everyone cried, and they insisted that they must
all lick him, to cool his cock in reward for what he had endured.
Of course, with half a dozen tongues all attacking him, he
immediately came. What he had saved for so long spurted in their
faces, into their hungry mouths. Afterwards Miss Brookhaven put
him to bed, that he might sleep and recover and be ready for more
games tomorrow.
30
---------------- Naughty Naked Dreamgirls! -----------------
-- More stories at: http://groups.google.com/ Search by typing:
roller666@earthlink.net Click on "Power Search"
Change "standard" archive to "complete" archive.
-- Other providers:
IFLC: http://assm.asstr-mirror.org and http://asstr-mirror.org
Anya's Lil' Hideaway: http://www.insatiable.net/
Silver: http://www.mr-yellow.com/goodies
The Backdrop Club: http://www.backdrop.com
Usenet Newsgroup: alt.sex.stories.moderated
-- Great art books by David Hamilton and Jock Sturges are at:
http://www.amazon.com http://bn.com (photos of naked little girls)
-- Naked little girls/politics: http://www.AlessandraSmile.com
Man/boy love: http://www.nambla.de Politics: http://www.lp.org
http://www.isil.org http://www.fear.org http://www.fija.org
http://www.aclu.org
-- Naughty Naked Dreamgirls (Library of Congress ISSN: 1070-1427)
is copyright 2001 by Andrew Roller. All rights reserved.
-- Visit me at: http://home.earthlink.net/files/Authors/Roller/www666/index.html
Or at http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Roller/www/index.html
(It is case sensitive, i.e. type Roller, not roller).
--
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
| alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: <ckought69@hotmail.com> |
| FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html> Moderator: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
|Archive: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org> Hosted by Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository |
|<http://www.asstr-mirror.org>, an entity supported entirely by donations. |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+