Naughty Naked Dreamgirls #28: Chambers of Love
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
No. 28 Thursday June 22, 1995
D R E A M G I R L S S T O R I E S
Chambers of Love
by Andrew Roller
My boyfriend says he is a novice compared even to our hostess, and would
she lend him guidance so that he does not ruin my lovely bottom. She says
she is not in business to ruin bottoms but to take sexual ecstasy to new
heights, for both slave and master. She says she will be glad to assist
him in learning how to dominate without injuring, teaching him what little
she knows. And she will help me learn the thrill of being a slave. Of
being thought of every minute, even if the people making me the center of
attention are doing horrid things to me. My boyfriend asks why it is
necessary for horrid things to be done to someone in order for the
non-slaves to be willing to make them the center of attention and to
constantly think of them and attend to them.
Our hostess considers. Then she replies that humans are by nature sexual
and take pleasure in the bodies of others, right down to their most
intimate parts, such as the asshole. She says that seeing someone you
love naked and sweating and hard at work, especially sexually oriented
work, is pleasurable. And she says certain harmless elements of pain,
such as being bonked on the head in a Laurel and Hardy film also bring
enjoyment. So seeing in real life someone moving their very desirable
bottom in exaggerated motions as a result of the infliction of harmless,
temporary pain is very appealing.
This is why bondage and discipline exists, she says. To see highly
desirable parts of the body that are normally hidden bared and forced to
move in lurid, exaggerated ways. To see normally sedate people forced to
yelp and scream and writhe even as they also become sexually aroused. It
is a form of play, with only the rules that the participants themselves
set. It is highly sexually charged and orgasms, even multiple orgasms,
are a normal result of such activity. So we have loved ones forced to
show off the most desirable parts of their bodies, which are then
manipulated by the master. He derives sexual satisfaction from
interacting with these most intimate portions of the flesh and especially
from seeing the emotional reactions of the possessor of the sexual organs.
Yet, unlike normal sex, the master remains detached, his sexual organs
not at all able to be manipulated by the one who is his victim. So he is
making his victim display all her intimate regions and causing intense
emotions in her by his own hand yet she can in no way force him to suffer
equally with her, as in normal coitus. He certainly feels sexual pleasure
at what he is doing. The sight alone of her intimate regions is enough
for that. He may pleasure himself along with her or he may not, as he
chooses, perhaps starting and stopping whilst she is constantly at his
And that is the thrill for the slave. She is no longer in control. Her
most intimate regions have been surrendered to another. He decides
whether her intimate zones, her sexual organs, feel pleasure or pain, or
both, and when. Her most private parts are first bared, and then she is
made helpless to control their responses. She cannot even control whether
she gasps or screams or laughs or cries.
So this is the thrill for both master and slave. The master in possessing
so much, the slave in possessing so little. Of course the whole thing is
shot through continually with sexual energy. There is hardly a moment
when sex is not present in some form, including even such mundane things
as going to the bathroom or doing chores around the house. So the whole
experience from start to finish is one long sexual delight. The pain
involved merely deepens the sexual flush, so to speak, by adding new
elements of total control over another's sexual organs, and total
helplessness for the slave over her own organs.
Of course people are loth to yield the center of attention to someone
else in the conventional world and certainly spend very little time
thinking of the needs of their fellow man. But when rewarded with the
payoff of a sexual rush, controlling the sex organs of another, observing
and exploring them in intimate detail regardless of what the possessor
wishes, and most importantly controlling the emotional state of the
possessor, then people are willing to reach out and think of someone and
make them the center of attention. Hence this "horrid things" is merely
the thrill of sex, suffused with a kind of altruism. For the master must
always be thinking of his slave, if he is a good master, even if he is
only thinking of her dislikes so he can serve those up to her. And the
slave knows she is being thought of every moment. Right down to her
bottom and pussy.
Standing there, handcuffed and hobbled, I felt a strange thrill wash over
me as I listened to our hostess' words. Perhaps it was just the sexual
energy of the place, what with the two of them masturbating and little Amy
sprawled bawling and bare as a baby under the relentless cane.
I looked over at my boyfriend. How happy he looked, and Rose also (I
named her that now, in my mind, because of her panties). Languidly they
stroked their genitals, almost not thinking about it, yet shivering
occasionally under the tremor of an impending orgasm. Neither had come
yet, there was no hurry. They savored the feeling in their loins of
continual excitation, rising and falling, ebbing and flowing forth
"I need it too," I breathed to my boyfriend, hoping to be stroked also.
He and Rose thought I meant the cane.
"Mmm, she is so sweet," Rose said of me. Her sapphic eyes regarded me
with new relish, the savor of possession. "Let me have first crack at
"I know, I know you do," my boyfriend was saying to me. "That's why you
came here." I parted my lips to speak but he gently, quickly gagged me
with a broad cloth. He put a finger beneath my nostrils to see that I
could breathe, then, at Rose's insistence he laid me down right atop Amy.
The small blonde grunted under my weight. She was a beast of burden now.
I felt her hot tush wiggling against my mound. Master (I thought no more
of him as my equal, my boyfriend) parted my legs. He removed the chain
that had linked my ankles. Rose drew my arms out and handcuffed them,
just as Amy's were.
Why did I not resist, I have wondered since. Perhaps it was the
overwhelming romance of the snow, the cabin, the fire in the hearth. It
was the setting a young girl dreams about for lovemaking. And my master
was undeniably handsome. Young, vigorous, large in all his aspects. And
Rose, the self-taught, homemade dominatrix, was endearing. I watched over
my shoulder now as she caressingly rubbed salve onto my bottom. She said
she wanted it to stay nice and healthy, even as she whipped it.
"There is coconut oil and other nutrients in this," she said of the oil,
looking at me as she spoke. "Your heiney will be well nourished by it. I
want you to have just as perfect a bottom when this is all over as you do
now. Of course, you'll need time to recover, but I consider that part of
the fun. It's delicious to have a sensitized rump that can barely sit on
anything. Very female, you know. It makes you very delicate."
She rose and shook her breasts. Her lovely black hair tossed itself
back, a mane of tumbling, lustrous curls. Quickly she stripped her jeans
the rest of the way down her legs. Then she pushed down her panties so
that they clung to the tops of her thighs, leaving her pussy unobstructed.
With careful fingers, ladylike, she found her clitty and resumed rubbing
"Now this is going to hurt darling," Rose said to me brightly. "I want
you to kick and scream as loud as you wish. No one can hear you within
these specially built cabins. And your gag should help, of course. So
let yourself go, cry if you wish, but keep your legs well apart and your
ass proudly presented. I don't want to have to tie your feet. I want you
to be courageous and show me how mature you are." She promised she would
wait between each stroke to let me savor it, to make the punishment last
as long as possible. And then she began.
"EEEEeee!" I keened as the cane stung into my already hot flesh. I
ground my mound against Amy's swollen cheeks, making her yelp that I was
hurting her. There was no help for that. Two more strokes sent me
gyrating shamelessly like some whore in heat upon her. Master rubbed
himself more vigorously, I saw in a well-placed mirror, obviously ecstatic
at the rare sight of a female beating two others, all of us sweet as
The cane bit me again and again, sometimes harder, sometimes softly. I
tried rolling over after a particularly harsh one but regained my
composure after some soothing encouragement from Rose. I was crying now,
uncontrollably, she said it was okay. Beneath me Amy was sobbing also.
A riding crop was tried next, briskly slapping its leather loop upon my
fanny. Rose asked which I liked better, it or the cane. I shook my head
no, no, liking neither. She told me to try it a new way, to kneel on the
carpet, resting my knees on either side of Amy's waist. I crouched as
ordered. This left Amy's bottom bare, made my cunt display itself like
some ripe fruit, waiting to be plucked from between my obscenely spread
Bitterly the crop raked my soft, tender cheeks, so white only an hour
ago, now sore and red. Coltishly I bucked under each blow. My breasts
swung beneath me, freely, stiff nippled and excited despite my torment. I
wished for someone to grab them, milk them, suck them dry. I gazed
through my tears into the mirror at master's cock. It seemed to aim right
at my cunt. He still stroked it lovingly, occasionally cupping his balls
and squeezing them as if to hold back some sudden onrush of semen.
Amy too received the crop now, alternately with me. She reared up and
banged my mound, that which she had so complained about touching her
earlier. She rent the air with abandon, screaming anew. Strangely, I
wished to scold her. She seemed overwrought to me, as if just yelling for
the hell of it, to make a scene, to be heard. I was glad when I heard the
crop hit her bottom. Let her feel it then, hard, if she was going to
scream so loudly. My ears hurt from it.
After a bit Rose said we must pause and refresh ourselves. Amy and I
were uncuffed but then recuffed as we remained in position upon the
carpet. Our hands were put safely behind our back, so we could not cover
the delectable view of our titties and cunts. And, of course, to make us
totally reliant on our masters.
Our bottoms chafed and abraded, our legs stiff, Amy and I were helped to
stand up, which we accomplished with difficulty. At once we queasily made
to rub our bottoms with our fingers, found little solace in it. Then, Amy
padding barefoot and I in my boots, we were led to the kitchen. There we
stood (not daring to sit) as Rose prepared coffee and got master to slice
up some cheese. Rose fed Amy bits of cheese and washed it down with
coffee. She did not want either of us drinking wine, she said, she wanted
us totally aware throughout our punishment. Master lifted my gag and I
meant to protest but felt a sudden rush of eroticism as he fed me the
first morsel of cheese. I was naked, raw, quivering, my tongue and my
pussy wet. My legs trembled, still uncertain in their standing. I needed
a bed. A big, sumptuous bed with a man with a hard, demanding cock inside
the sheets with me, forcing me, making me do things his way, demanding new
heights of performance from me.
I did not protest. I did not complain. I sniffled and Rose wiped my
nose, even as master fed me. She was lovely, so close, her body
bewitching me with its softness, its roundnesses that jiggled so
deliciously when she walked, moved. I wanted her in bed with me too,
parting me, licking me, encouraging me. I thrust my hips forward as I
ate. Master noticed and caressed me softly through my pubic hairs with
his fingers, not touching my cunt though. His dick waggled against my
thigh, banging it. I wished I could reach out and hold it. He reached
down then and touched my clitty, stroked me there, then stroked his penis,
then me again. All the while he kept lifting bits of cheese to my lips,
Amy and I were taken next to the bedroom. I caught my breath at the
sight of a big brass four-poster canopy bed. The curtains at the rear of
the bed were drawn back and Amy and I were put over the brass-poled
baseboard. Heels were slipped onto Amy's feet so that she stood beside me
with her fanny perfectly elevated. I wished we could be in the bed,
instead of standing behind it, but my gag kept me from suggesting anything
at all. She and I were bent forward until our cheeks touched the
coverlet. Our heads were turned to face one another. We were told to
extend our tongues to each other, to kiss. We obeyed as best we could,
our hips bumping.
A leather belt was brought out behind us. I heard its slithering, found
I could view my destruction once again in a helpfully positioned mirror,
found to my fright I could even see the state of my own bottom through a
Rose drew back the strap. Her body was lithe, sexy, appealing even in
this most threatening of postures. I felt the juicy splatting of the
strap then, full across my bottom, lifting me up off my feet. I hollered.
New tears welled in my eyes.
With slow, savoring strokes Rose and master led me through the long
night, a night of unremitting punishment, of naked agony. In the morning
I was soundly fucked by both of them, then left to rest with Amy until our
time came to perform bare-bottomed chores.
I spent the next two weeks back at the count's recovering from my ordeal.
He took great interest in my condition and inspected me daily,
supervising my recovery like a doctor. His servants pampered me as if I
were an Aztec princess, recuperating after being sacrificed upon the altar
of the Sun God.
Julie, who had never seen such a thoroughly chastised bottom, spent much
of our first day together staring at it, whilst I lay on my belly in bed
and described to her how it had gotten that way. She urged me not to
leave out a single detail of my punishment. She wept for me as I told her
of my agony under each of the different implements.
When my bottom could stand it Julie rubbed salve onto it and took charge
of nursing my twin globes back to health. Slowly the weals and bruises
faded. The long whippy marks disappeared. At last my hiney returned to
its perfect pearly whiteness, as if no one had ever laid a hand on it.
This was on the last scheduled day of our month's enslavement to the
"Come, girls, there's someone I want you to meet," he said as we packed
our things. He accepted our imminent departure with equanimity. Our
studded collars had been removed that morning. No doubt by evening they
would already be clasped about the throats of two new girls.
We followed the count downstairs and into the parlor. We were fully
dressed, ready to go. It felt strange to be wearing clothing again.
Suddenly my eyes fell upon a familiar countenance, and bust. It was
D R E A M G I R L S N E W S
by Andrew Roller
There you are, pounding out your latest story for a.s.s. And suddenly
you wonder, "What if this story were to 'hit it big?' Do I have any
rights left to me if I post this? Should I write, 'Copyright 1995 by me'
on this, or would that prevent archivists from saving my work?
1. You do not need to write 'Copyright 1995 by me' on your story. The
minute you type out the words of your story, they are yours. Writing
'Copyright 1995 by me' gives you additional rights in a court case that
make it easier for you to prove your case.
2. What about "All Rights Reserved"? That phrase applies to one country
in the world. It is in South America. It does not fully comply with
standard copyright law. Hence the need for "All Rights Reserved." (Or,
rather, the reason why you probably just want to ignore it.) (It does
sound cool, though, doesn't it?)
3. "Fair Use" (invented as a result of uncontrolled xeroxing) allows
archivists, students, and others to make copies for their own use.
However, different electronic-text archivists have differing opinions on
copyright law with regard to electronic-text. Some of them worry over
things like copyright notices, and fail to save electronic-text stories
that have copyright notices on them. This is why I leave the copyright
notice off of my stories.
4. Thanks to computer software companies and their "licensing
agreements," the law in electronic copying (of computer materials) has not
followed the path of "fair use" (of paper text). (At least to my
knowledge.) This is why some archivists of computer texts worry. Hence,
you may wish to devise your own copyright notice and post it occasionally
with your work. Here's one that I have written (below). You can copy it
and modify it for your own stories if you want to.
Archivists are encouraged to archive my work. I WANT it saved. Anything
I have posted on Usenet is obviously freely distributable throughout
Usenet, and is available to all Usenet users for copying onto their
computers. If you want to e-mail a copy to your friend, please feel free
to do so. If you want to copy my text (intact) onto your (free-of-charge)
bbs, that's o.k. too.
"I will release all 'electronic dissemination' rights to my stories IF
A.S.S. IS BANNED in America," quoted from Tuesday's article. This
"release" refers solely to dissemination of my computerized text, intact,
as described in the paragraph above. (So we are there already.) The
"release" does not refer to "for profit" dissemination of my computerized
text. (I retain those rights.)
"Electronic dissemination" does not refer to the dissemination of my work
in other electronic formats (other than computerized text). Such as, but
not limited to: movies, VHS tapes, records, cable-TV, etc. (profit or
non-profit). (I retain those rights.)
I have never been on the World Wide Web yet so I am retaining all rights
with regard to it at this time, as well as all rights that may inhere in
future methods of dissemination. (Obviously, if A.S.S. is banned, I would
have no objection to my work being distributed on the Web in the
non-profit manner described above.)
There is no "consideration" being received by me for the terms stated
above. They are not intended to create either a bilateral or unilateral
contract between myself and the reader.
ATTENTION MEXICAN FISHERMEN!
by holy joe
I realize that sometimes when you are out fishing in your boat your net
becomes entangled with the net of an American boat. They yell nasty
things at you, and you are frustrated, because you do not know any
English. You have no English epithets that you can yell back at them.
I feel your pain.
Here are some epithets you can yell back at them:
FREE THE NET!
Holy Moly, Ace Reporter (and Cub Scout) says you should yell Larry Niven
and Jerry Pournelle's phrase, "THINK OF IT AS EVOLUTION IN ACTION." He
says you should yell this because the Christian Right does not believe in
evolution. Obviously, this is the problem with hiring a Cub Scout to be
your Ace Reporter. They simply have no idea what is going on.
NOTE: If you are a Dreamgirls e-mail subscriber, the "last call" for
"backing up" the Chambers of Love story will be occurring soon. (As the
story will be ending soon, and we will be moving on to a new story.) If
you are missing parts of the story let me know and I will put you on the
"backing up" list.
Free Naughty Naked Dreamgirls e-mail subscriptions: send (18 or up) age
statement to: firstname.lastname@example.org Free Naughty Naked Dreamgirls
minicomics: send a greeting-card SASE, age statement to: Jim Corrigan,
P.O. Box 3663, Phenix City, AL 36868 U.S.A. Naughty Naked Dreamgirls
(Library of Congress ISSN: 1070-1427). Chat: alt.sex.stories.d END OF