Aphrodizzia

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Aphrodizzia Page 15

by AnonYMous


  Unwillingly, the abducted girl wrote a letter to say that she had run off with a newfound lover. Under such circumstances she passed into Jack's ownership and was brought here. Before you take your three girls to the luxurious sleeping quarters appointed for you, I hope you will consent to watch the little comedy being played out in the last of the rooms. The two scamps who have taken her in there are quite without scruple and capable of anything. You may depend upon them to teach Janet a lesson or two. You see that they choose the low leather-topped stool which is bolted to the floor. How our plump young chicken tries to twist and squirm as they press her down on all fours and attach her. Not surprisingly, her dark hair with its pretty top-knot twists round and they are confronted by the alarmed brown eyes and great apprehension in her soft prettiness. With eager hands they detach the tight brown trousers. One of them strips down her panties, pocketing Miss Janet's knickers as a souvenir. Straps round her ankles, thighs, waist, and wrists hold her to the apparatus.

  The first man slips his hand between the back of her thighs. He finds the soft-haired cunt. Though Janet quivers and tries to pull away, he holds the furry little creature, stroking and calming it. As Jack describes it, a young bitch who has just whelped on the sly is most unlikely to have a true aversion for such fondling. The tears of shame which Janet seemed about to shed do not fall. Instead she allows her cunt to weep copiously into the man's hand. A courgette, an amusing little vegetable, six inches long and smoothly round in proportion, is introduced. Despite herself, Janet's hips begin to move. She is such a timid, wide-eyed innocent-but still she cannot get enough of this sort of thing. To keep her on the qui vive, the man stops short of Janet's climax, in order that she may come off the boil. Now she would almost weep to have the baby cucumber replaced but they will leave her to cool for half an hour. All the same, she need not be without occupation. The other man pulls the hem of the brown jerkin well up above the pale sheen of the girl's plump hips.

  Janet turns suddenly, such frightened prettiness in the soft young face and eyes. The dark fringe of the helmet-shaped cut is parted on her forehead, which adds to this impression of timidity. The two men are studying the pale fattened cheeks of Janet's bottom and the tight dark hole between. They confer and begin to tease the girl.

  Janet is frantic at their proposal, trying vainly to break free from the stool. Now the second man takes the nursling cucumber. Its narrower end presses between the pale plumpness of Janet's buttocks, demanding entrance at her postern gate. In a fright, she tightens against it. The other man intervenes, holding the broad leather of the punishment strap. With savage energy and visible enjoyment, he brings the school strap down across the pale quivering cheeks of Janet Bond's bottom. Again and again the strokes ring out, accompanied by the girl's wild shrillness. Bright crimson paths cross her backside, this way and that, before he lays down the leather. Now the rounded tip demands entrance again. There is a brief tightening against it, a thrust, a cry and then a forlorn yielding. Smilingly the man with the strap holds Janet's hips still and knowingly chides her for such a fuss about such a little thing. His companion works the impertinent vegetable in and out, keeping Janet's anus well stretched about its rim. In the discomfort or excitement of this, the girl gives tense little gasps and holds herself almost rigidly over the stool, as if in fear that the least movement against her ravisher will cause havoc in her bottom. So the well-greased vegetable sodomises Miss Janet.

  With the consternation growing in her pert young face, there occurs one of those incidents which are both alarming and yet irresistibly comic. The man who plies the fledgling cucumber between the girl's plump well-spread buttocks becomes more vigorous. Having admired the cameos of her labouring like a young mare between the shafts as she pushed the pram, and now having her presented in this posture, it is understandable that he should wish to exercise Janet Bond's arsehole vigorously. Then, in a moment of distraction, he goes too far.

  Pressing up hard, he loses touch with the courgette, which passes entirely into her guts, Janet's anus closing over it. Here, as they say, is a pretty kettle of fish! How to extract it? The fatter rounded end, over which the tight hole has closed, is the larger and more difficult to expel. Yet it must come first. Twenty-year-old Janet is frantic, as you may tell from the dismay in her brown eyes, the flared nostrils of her pretty nose, and her mouth open in a wild gasp.

  The two villains who are having fun with her look quite taken aback for a moment. But soon they are exchanging smiles and seem hardly able to control their mirth. The predicament in which Janet finds herself is entirely her problem, for she is a slave-girl. No surgeon is on hand to perform an act of assistance. If the courgette is truly irremovable, there is only one thing left for Miss Janet. One rather imagines that these two fellows would enjoy doing it. Yet as we sit and watch the farce, do you not think the men envisage Jack's displeasure at returning and finding that Janet has had to make her exit? Already, you see, they are urging her to expel the intruder. She will not do so, of course, without an ordeal. Indeed, it may be impossible for her. Is it the monstrous discomfort which prevents her or merely a tensing of her body at the thought of performing such an act in front-of them? The men are implacable. They order her to give birth to the insolent object. Do you see Janet's young belly tensing, her rump thrust out hard and her rear muscle swelling a little like a bud? All to no avail. One of the men laughs at her and turns to the other. “The young prude needs a little stimulation, I think.” Could one disagree? Yet what has he in mind? He picks up a three-foot length of sash-cord and takes the two ends in his hand. The loop of heavy cord dangling from his grip now makes an improvised lash. His mouth in a thin cruel line, he brings it down in a vicious stroke across the plump pale cheeks of poor Janet's bottom.

  His companion takes another length and they thrash from opposite sides with alternate strokes. Laughingly the two men order her not to keep them waiting. Janet's buttocks are soon emblazoned with loops and curlicues of whipcord. Here and there a rosy trickle wanders from the end of a stripe. The minutes pass and still the two men are implacable. A moment to ply Janet with smelling salts, then the measured whipping again. Under the pretty top-knot of dark hair, her brown eyes wide with consternation meet the men's smiles. They run the cord through their fingers to let her see it. “Don't keep us waiting, Janet. Still so bashful? Very well!” Janet's belly is tense, her hips straining as she is whipped. The green cucumber tip peeps out, is withdrawn, then surges out and falls to the ground.

  Maddened by the whips, Janet yields all. But as she lies over the stool, running with the sweat of labour, her eyes avoid the men's smiles. Her plump buttocks are bright crimson. The smiles grow broader, for a fugitive rudeness swells through the rear loophole to lie in a limp curve down one fattened cheek of Janet Bond's bottom.

  After this tragi-comedy, you may well decide to escort your three girls to the sumptuous boudoir with its capacious bed. In the warmth of this climate we sleep upon the silk covers rather than under them.

  Do you approve of the room with its pink-shaded brass lamps, its panels of silk and carved wood? I scarcely think you will need more inspiration. Should you do so, you will find some racy volumes on the shelf by the bed. You may read of the lovely Eveline or the rascal Captain DeVane. There is Colonel Spanker who fustigates Julie or the learned gentleman, before an audience, first applies vaseline and penis, then a whip, to proud Lesley Hollingsworth's bare bottom-cheeks. Or you may read of a cheeky imp like Sally Fenton sucking the prick, and a lover's stiffness stretching Tania Nicoll's arsehole. Let the choice be yours, if make it you must. Yet what need will you have of books and learning when you watch your three shapely companions undressing? See, there is Natasha, slipping off her navy-blue skirt and the white stretched briefs of high school knickers. Noreen strips with many a contemptuous flick of her dark fringe and lank hair. When her clothes come off, she is quite naked except for the restraint of strapping on her pale statuesque body.

  Stout black leath
er bonds form wrist-cuffs and anklets, collar and waist-belt. With this defiant and strongly built girl of nineteen, such precautions may be necessary. Order these two assistants to the bed.. Noreen in her straps. Natasha bare from the waist down, wearing her striped tie, white blouse, and green jumper with blue piping, as if this may provoke you more strongly. Let your slim and suntanned Swedish blonde, Helena, shrug off her black jacket. Now stand behind her, kiss the pretty ears and charming neck as you brush back the short silky fall of hair. Feel her pert sixteen-year-old bubbies as you pull up her white singlet and ease it off over her head. “Play with those little nipples, Helena. Keep them nice and stiff. You must learn to excite yourself, my pet.” She obeys uncertainly, though it is quite evident that she has been playing with herself in various ways since she was twelve or thirteen. Kiss the silken sweep of her pale hair and look over her shoulder at her mirrored face. Does your manhood not stiffen a little at the sight of the proud high-boned young beauty under the blond fringe? Undo the leather belt at her waist and kneel down behind her as you draw the tight white jeans down her slim, suntanned thighs. Her panties are inside them and come off as well. Will you take the example of Janet's admirers and tuck Helena Thelen's knickers in your pocket as a trophy of the chase? You cause Helena a little confusion now as you kiss the backs of her light-tanned silken thighs. Do your lips feel one or two sweet little tendrils of cunt-hair emerging from the rear of her tightly-pressed legs? A little higher and you kiss the smooth, cool ovals of Helena's arse-cheeks. You make her turn and browse over her taut young belly and mossy loins with your kisses. “Now lie on the bed Helena. At once! With Noreen and Natasha. A show of reluctance, Helena? Must you have a taste of the whip first? That's better. Don't hold your hand behind you when you walk, Helena. Show how your backside moves.” Having unbuttoned yourself and undressed, you follow your young inamorata. On the way, however, you take the short leather lash of the dog-whip from the drawer and lay it by the pillow where the three girls can see it. Natasha knows her job, of course. The pert little blonde with the chignon and charming fringe is to devote her lips and fingers to your prick all night. When not sheathed in your young nymph's cunt-or in Helena's bottom-your member will receive this prim young penis-teaser's constant attention.

  Do not be deceived by her juvenile pretensions. Natasha is a completely depraved little immoraliste. Noreen on the other hand is best employed lying on her back to offer her bare belly as your arm-rest, or lying face down to let you use the broad pale cheeks of her arse as your pillow. Ordering Helena to turn on to her back and hug her knees up to her chin, you are able to lie and view the spread of her underside from a few inches. Tickle her light-haired pussy-flesh until she gives a shudder, a gasp, and lets the first droplets of desire form there. Meanwhile your little imp, Natasha, will not leave your prick alone. Like a greedy little girl with a new toy, she fingers it, kisses its knob lightly, gives it a quick and apprehensive suck, then wipes her wetness off it on her n soft blonde chignon. You part Helena's thighs, draw yourself up, and impale her. With woman's instinct, her legs clasp you, heels drumming on your back. Noreen lies face down across the top of the bed, like a bolster.

  Helena's head rests on the small of Noreen's back. Your own head is level with Noreen's broad young backside. When you look up you are confronted by a rear view of Natasha kneeling with thighs apart, just in range of your lips and tongue. Her blonde tail dangles as she looks back at you through the arch of her legs. The hem of the green jumper with its blue piping comes down only to the top of her hips. You are deliciously held in Helena's cunt, riding easily. Can you resist a kiss on Natasha's slim thighs? Kisses on the silken thatch of her young love-nest follow this while you ride strongly in and out between Helena's trim suntanned legs. A quick flicker with your tongue brings you the tastes of Natasha's randiness. You draw the green jumper of her uniform up, well clear of the little blonde's hips, as you continue to ravish your Swedish nymph. Now your lips browse on the cool elfin pallor of Natasha's fourteen-year-old bottom-cheeks. The saucy chignon of her fair hair brushes to and fro across the back of her collar as she gasps with the tension of arousal. “Natasha, my pet! Turn your head round. Let me watch your face while I enjoy you.”

  As she obeys you, the sulky primness of her expression has now changed into wonderment at the sensations provoked by your lips and tongue. Do your exertions in Helena's cunt require a moment's pause? Then you may pillow your head on the pale mounds of Noreen's buttocks as this sturdy wench lies face-down for a bolster. As in Natasha's case, you may choose to make Noreen turn her head so that you can enjoy the prospect of those firm and fair-skinned features, the insolent brown eyes under the level fringe of dark brown hair.

  Your head lies conveniently close as you make a casual inspection, pressing her strong young thighs apart a little and viewing the coral pinkness of her cunt. Though a resentment bums in the eyes of this young trollop, your fingers will make free with her legs and backside. Fondle the firm and broadened mounds of her rump. Press them apart and let your finger explore the dark dimple of Noreen's arsehole. Looking back at you, the indignation in her face causes two red sparks of anger at the points of her broad cheekbones. You may quell this mute rebellion easily enough by reminding her of what already awaits such ill-mannered conduct. “Your first proper whipping tomorrow morning, Noreen, is it not? How wise of Lord Frederick to engage the services of a prison-officer who enjoys such work! Those strapping young bottom-cheeks of yours, Noreen. They will be in no state to grace the bedroom for several weeks afterwards.

  Better make the most of tonight, Noreen. Your turn shall come after Helena!” The mere utterance of the Swedish girl's name starts you in motion again. Riding her expertly, you watch the blond nymph's head twist to and fro. In her breathless yearning she has closed her eyes, and her teeth fret impatiently at her lower lip. Because you are a gentleman-and not a cad-you do not wish to give her a swollen belly.

  That being so you withdraw and turn her onto her belly, threading her cunt again from the rear. The demure oval cheeks of Helena Thelen's bottom now offer themselves so innocently to you. When the crisis comes, you need only withdraw from her cunt lay your tool in the warm valley between the two cool rear orbs and allow your geyser to spout while the shapely cheeks press upon you. Summon Claudia in her seductive costume of emerald green briefs and breast-halter. Instruct her to attend Helena with the flannel. A moment more and all three girls-as well as Claudia-are at your disposal. The night is yours to spend with them in any way you please. Do you choose to doze for an hour-or are you still too rampant for sleep? If you wish to be attended, you have only to give the word and Elke, Sonja, Petra, and a dozen more shall be added to the charming ensemble on the divan. But can you resist meeting the challenge which Noreen presents? A mere amateur could have his way with Claudia or Helena but it takes a true man to master Noreen. Her pale sturdy body will be naked except for the prudently arranged straps which are customary on the night before such an ordeal as hers. A black strap round her waist is matched by others equally stout and tight round her wrists, ankles, lower thighs and neck. Naturally, you will want to give your full attention to her in the hour or two before the agents of justice take her into the next room. Have no fear, by the way, an ingenious mirror will permit you to see all that happens in there. Noreen lies on her side, curving forward a little from the waist and facing away from you. The full pale cheeks of her backside, the opening of her thighs, and the spread of her hips is level with your face at a distance of twelve inches. Her hands are strapped together in front of her as a necessary precaution. She is no great beauty and no fine lady. A well-built young wench of her kind, however, still offers this rather vulgar stimulant of her arse and thighs. As you lie there on your back, admiring this full-cheeked view, young Natasha sprawls with her head on your loins. She has your prick in her hand, sucking it for a while, taking it out and kissing it, then closing her mouth over the erection again. After so many pretty nymphs and demure maide
ns, perhaps you feel the need for stronger tastes. “Noreen! Arch your hips further back and stick your bottom right out towards me.”

  She obeys, perhaps reluctantly. Yet now you have that view which, when clad skin-tight in jeans, stopped so many admirers at the saddlery. Touch your lips to the backs of Noreen's firm nineteen-year-old thighs. Browse to your heart's content on their cool marble. “Lie still, Noreen. I'm sure a dozen country lads must have feasted here!” Allow your mouth to move gently to the opening of her legs at the rear. Do you feel her tighten against you?

  You have only to order two of the footmen to hold Noreen while you muse kissingly on the soft fur of her vaginal lips. Then you travel on, over the well broadened and fully rounded cheeks of Noreen's bottom. Your lips salute her fifty times on each. To drive the last thoughts of modesty from her, you kiss the warmer smoother slope descending into Noreen's bottom-crack. And if you wish to hear her gasp with dismay, you mould a long exploratory kiss to Noreen's anus.

  After this, you may settle down to enjoy the view again. Sonja is required to lie on the other side, facing Noreen, and to masturbate the young wench with her hand. Relax and enjoy half an hour of the sport seen at such close range. Watching at the rear opening of Noreen's thighs, you see Sonja's skilful fingers enter from the front.

  Every stroke and probe, every squeeze and spending of the masturbation is enacted a few inches before you. Despite her anger and resentment, Noreen is not proof against this. Do you hear how her breath begins to come in long shuddering gasps? Note a tension of her legs, the faint rhythmic movements of her hips, the way that the cheeks of Noreen's arse keep time by their slight contracting and expanding. Can you resist adding to her confusion? Surely not.

 

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