Nakedella: Book One

  Published by Mojocastle Press, LLC

  Price, Utah

  This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

  Nakedella: Book One

  ISBN: 1-60180-000-2

  Copyright ã 2006 Viola Grace

  Cover Art Copyright @ 2006 Lar deSouza

  All rights reserved.

  Excluding legitimate review sites and review publications, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

  Copying, scanning, uploading, selling and distribution of this book via the Internet or any other means without permission from the publisher is illegal, punishable by law and will be prosecuted.

  Available online at:

  http://www.mojocastle.com/

  Prologue

  Once upon a time in the Land of Fairy Tales, Folk Tales, and Fables, there was a woman named Nakedella. She had been named Ella for most of her life as a dairymaid, but then something happened.

  She had been milking Jack Sprat’s cow when he came into the barn behind her. The next thing she knew, she was on her hands and knees with her skirt up around her hips. With only a few strokes of his fingers to prepare her, his hard, hot cock was soon thrusting into her with short, stabbing strokes. She bucked up against him in time, loosening her bodice to fondle her breasts, and was moaning in ecstasy when the cow kicked her in the head.

  As she came to, Jack was gone, her skirt was still up, her blouse open, and her thighs were sticky with his semen. Her head, however, hurt like hell. She got up, stumbled home, stripped off and fell into bed.

  The next morning, she awoke with a pounding pain in her skull. She tried to get dressed, but kicked the manure-soaked clothing away with a grunt of disgust. She would just have to go without clothes. At first, the members of the community were taken aback by her lack of dress, but as she developed a clientele, they came to accept her quirk.

  And so, Dairy Ella became Naked Ella, wandering throughout the village and going about her chores in the nude. In the temperate climate where they lived, it was rather comfortable.

  Jack Sprat and his wife moved out of the area, and were last seen fighting over what to have for dinner.

  Chapter One

  Nakedella woke as the dappled morning sunshine crept through the lace of her window. She stretched luxuriously under the covers and tried to remember what day it was. Ah, yes. Market Day. She had to head over to Red Riding Hood’s Grandmother’s house with her basket of goodies.

  Well, Market Day. She had better get ready. The market was always a little hard on her this early in the day.

  One hand toyed with her nipples while the other snaked down and began to play with her clit. She relaxed her breathing and let her body flush with sensation. Now and then she would stop circling to pinch at the nub of engorged flesh and drive two fingers into her cunt. She continued until her whole body shivered and bucked in release. The hand on her breast left its station and fisted in her sheets as she rode out her first orgasm of the day.

  Slowly her breathing returned to normal, and she felt ready to leave her bed.

  She heard the pattering of tiny feet and sat up in wide-eyed panic. She had forgotten to turn off her ‘alarm’.

  She scrambled out of bed. She walked slowly across the floor, keeping an eye out for the hopping, golden dildo laying in wait for her. It had been enchanted by a client, and she only used it when she absolutely had to get out of bed at dawn.

  It waited for half an hour after sun hit its stand before coming out to wake her in the manner it was designed for; it would fuck her into alertness.

  However, if she rose and forgot to cover it, it would still find her and carry out its assignment. Moving swiftly, she grabbed its little blanket off the stand and braced for its arrival.

  She heard the hopping of little feet behind her and whirled to confront her automaton lover. It was coming after her, moving rapidly out from under the bed and making a beeline for her.

  She snapped her wrist forward and dropped the blanket over it, sighing with relief as the feet stopped moving. She picked it up carefully and closed its box to save its services for another day.

  Nakedella washed her face and brushed her teeth. Her hair was next. She struggled to get the brush through the thick, honey-colored stuff. She flipped her hair back over her shoulders, grabbed her shopping basket and headed out to the market.

  The first stop on her list was the Butcher.

  She walked up to the counter and smiled at the butcher’s apprentice. His gaze roamed over her golden skin until he managed to meet her eyes.

  “Is my order ready?”

  “My master left it in the back, lady.”

  She sighed, straightened her shoulders and walked into the dark of the shop. Her bare feet made a small pattering noise on the floor as she wandered further into the dim, cool confines of the butcher shop. Goosebumps prickled across her skin as her nipples rose in response to the frigid temperature.

  Suddenly, two hands gripped her hips from behind, drawing her back against strong thighs and a definite erection. Nothing seemed to separate his flesh from hers as his penis slid between her thighs and he drew her back and forth in an insistent manner.

  Knowing what was expected of her, she shrieked softly and attempted to get away. Her basket dropped to the floor and her hands tried to break his grip as he pulled her back against him. Their bodies connected with the sharp slap of naked skin.

  Her pussy dampened as his grip hardened to keep her half-hearted struggles under control. She loved this part. He reached over to the workbench and picked up the knife that he had prepared for her visit.

  She stood motionless as the knife came to rest on her throat.

  “Bend over and put your hands on the bench.”

  She followed his direction and was unsurprised to find the knife trailing down her spine, leaving a sharp itch in its wake. As she straightened to move away from it, the blade stopped and pressed into her left buttock.

  “Don’t move. Every time you move, you get cut.”

  Nakedella whimpered and stilled.

  The knife continued its maddening journey, trailing down her back, around her ass, and up across her belly to her breasts.

  “Hold still.” His free hand kept her hips from moving as the blade glided over her straining nipples. The sharp sting caused her breath to hitch as the blunt head of his cock sought entrance to her body.

  Her arms tensed as she prepared for his first thrust. She braced herself as he relentlessly forced himself into her with a grunt. If she didn’t hold completely still, the knife would dig into her breasts. She made the mistake of moving once. That once was more than enough.

  Her earlier preparation paid off, as her vagina accepted him easily. The juices flowed more freely than they would have otherwise.

  As the head of his cock rubbed against the front wall of her cunt she held still, shivering and gasping with sweat blooming on her body as he rocked and stroked within her. Long minutes passed and her arms trembled with the effort of holding herself still when the knife clattered to the floor.

  With a groan and a final hard plunge the butcher drove into her, and his cock ejected its seed far within her. His head fell forward onto her back, and she felt his sweat mingle with her own as he struggled to regain his senses.

  “Thank you. The order is by the bench. See you in two weeks?” The voice was husky in her ear and she felt the wet slide of his phallus as he pulled out of her.

  “Yes, thank you. Same time?”

  “Agreed. Perhaps I wi
ll have a little something more involved for you to play with while you are here.”

  She shivered, partially in anticipation and partially in fear. He was a very creative man with very specific tastes, tastes that both thrilled and scared her in equal amounts.

  Nakedella moved stiffly over to the paper-wrapped order that had been left, wincing at the weight as she loaded it into her basket. Apparently the Butcher really enjoyed their encounters. Now, on to the Baker.

  Chapter Two

  Moving stiffly away from the Butcher’s shop, she knew that she was drawing the eyes of the villagers. Most knew of her arrangements with the local merchants and some of them even approved, especially the Butcher’s wife, who found her husband’s appetites appalling.

  The tiny welts left by the knife would fade as soon as she took a bath in the healing waters at her home. The healing well had been provided by another client, a wizard who liked to be tied up and spanked.

  She simply provided what the men needed, and they gave her what she needed in return.

  The bakery displays were depleted by the early risers already, but Nakedella knew that the Baker was still inside, working and waiting.

  She walked into the warm confines of the shop and felt her skin prickle in reaction to the heat coming off of the ovens. The heady smell of yeast and spices made her reel with dizziness.

  After steadying herself on a counter, she made her way to the proofing room. Flour dusted her feet and caused them to slip slightly as she walked.

  “Welcome, my dear. Please, come this way.” The diminutive Baker held out a hand to her as she crossed the warm and quiet space. He was as tiny as his wife. The statuesque and voluptuous Nakedella was every fantasy he had not indulged.

  “Please, hop up here on the table. I have something special planned for you today.” He patted the tabletop with his hand, then climbed a short stair to stand on the counter himself.

  Silently, she lay with her back flat on the flour-dusted wooden surface. He did not like her to speak. Her vocalizations were reserved for the Candlestick Maker.

  He shed his clothing in an efficient and rapid manner, his long, hard cock belying his short stature. With a gleeful grin on his leathered face, he scooped up some dough that he had placed on the table earlier. That was the reason for the trysts in the proofing room; he liked to play with the dough while it was alive. With great precision, he draped it across her breasts and began to knead both the dough and the flesh beneath it.

  With a hoarse groan, he straddled her chest and inserted his cock between her breasts as he manipulated the dough, thrusting his flesh in and out of the warm, yeasty mass.

  Nakedella closed her eyes when he began his massage. She was rocking her torso slightly in time to his thrusts when she felt something hard against her lips.

  Her tongue flicked out. She tasted something sweet and spicy. Her lips parted. A sweet cylinder inserted itself into her mouth and began to pump back and forth in a rhythm that was slightly different than that of the Baker, still sweating and grunting above her.

  She opened her eyes and met an amazing sight. A gingerbread man had a tiny icing cock inserted between her lips and was pumping into her mouth with gleeful abandon.

  She flicked her tongue against the tiny appendage and sucked delicately at it. A high-pitched giggle and groan ensued. Laughter and more groans broke from the Baker.

  “Do you like my surprise? I had one of my ovens enchanted just for this kind of occasion.”

  She couldn’t move her head as the little cock began to thrust with aggressive purpose. The gingerbread man pounded into her with enthusiasm until his sugary member spilled its contents into her mouth in a jet of icing. She licked her lips and sucked the last of the sugar from the tiny tool. It actually had flavors of sugar, ginger and cinnamon. She wouldn’t mind tasting it again.

  Giggling, the frisky pastry sat aside and watched the baker work his cock through the dough that had now risen on her breasts to mountainous proportions, the heat from their bodies spurring it onward.

  “Oh, gods!” A shuddering groan rippled through the Baker’s tightly muscled frame as he bucked in the throes of his orgasm. His hands clenched furiously on her breasts. She knew that he would leave his mark in her bruised flesh. His kneading hands cleaned the traces of semen from his shaft, and worked it into the dough that he took from her breasts.

  “A treat for your wife?”

  “Indeed. She loves the taste of my cum in a loaf of bread.” He dismissed her with a look and began to form the dough into the shape of a man’s cock and balls. A treat for his wife indeed!

  She stood slowly, tickled the gingerbread man’s little flaccid shaft, and left the room.

  In her basket were several loaves of bread wrapped in cloth. She didn‘t look too closely at the shapes, as they were not meant for her. The regular delivery of her daily bread would commence in a day when she had returned home, after she had finished her errands. She had enough bread to feed an army with her, and shifted the basket from arm to arm as she left the bakery and headed for the shop of the Candlestick Maker.

  Chapter Three

  The shop of the Candlestick Maker was dark, as usual. He did most of his regular sales after dark. She knocked on the locked door.

  It swung open with a creaking sigh. She stepped inside and carefully placed her basket near the door, where she could find it swiftly on her way out. Any delay in leaving after the Candlestick Maker was through with her, he would consider an invitation to begin again.

  He was the only one of her Market Day clients that did not have a wife to warm his bed, and he did not have any qualms about keeping her there all day. His business did not depend on the freshness of his product.

  “I am here, sir.”

  “Come forward and stand in the frame.” The voice was heated with an unwholesome anticipation.

  “Yes, sir.” Meekly she walked into the darkness and stood near the one flickering tallow candle that he had placed on the mantelpiece.

  The voice continued from the shadows. “Raise your arms.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Soft cords looped around and pulled her arms up and out. He had built a frame into the very foundations of his house for just this purpose. It centered her and allowed him full access to her body while keeping all of her orifices at his disposal.

  Her legs were tugged apart in the same manner. She took a deep breath and exhaled in a shaky moan. He seemed very keen today. She had better give him the reactions that he wanted, and deny him nothing. He would know if she held anything back.

  It began slowly enough, his scarred hands running over her body, caressing the flesh into alertness with a gentle touch. His face never left the shadows while he touched her. The marks of a fire in his youth covered him from head to toe. He could not feel a touch on his own body, so he needed her response to him to be in sighs, moans and screams.

  Her sighs of comfort echoed in the room, bouncing off the metal molds that he used in his trade. It had taken months for him to adjust his technique to her body, but now he knew how to begin.

  He gently rubbed his fingers between her thighs, seeking the slick traces of her arousal. After every few touches he brought his fingers to his mouth and tasted them, seeking the level of her heat through taste. She groaned as he laughed.

  “Like that, do you? Let’s see if this is right for you as well.”

  His hands came out and attached two small clips to her nipples. She yelped in pain, then shuddered as a trail of moisture snaked down the inside of her thigh.

  “Ah, a good fit then.” His hands tugged gently at the clips, and her back arched into his palms to ease the pressure.

  “Yes, sir. A very good fit. Please. More.”

  “More?” His hand was back between her thighs, sliding through the moisture and into her cunt with a wet sound. She let out a sharp gasp and flung her head back, moaning as the fingers took up a heady beat with a smack that caused her to blush in the dimness. She couldn
’t believe how wet she got when she was with the chandler. It boggled her mind.

  His other hand wet itself in her slick juices and she soon felt a pressure on her anus that had her rising up on her toes, but the diabolical fingers followed her and one of them worked its way within her rear channel. It didn’t hurt, but was uncomfortable. She slowly returned to standing flat on her feet with one finger in her ass and two in her cunt.

  As she relaxed and murmured in increasing arousal, he added another finger to both her cunt and her ass. She sighed, moaned and rocked her hips against him. “Mmmm. More.”

  Another dark laugh rang through the room, and she soon was empty with only the clips on her breasts while he did something on a worktable behind him in the darkness.

  She heard him coming up behind her and stood still as a soft blindfold was put over her eyes.

  A shudder ran through her. She knew what this meant. He was about to light the candles so that he could both watch her and use the wax.

  A gentle kiss on her lips from the scarred lips of her client was the only contact she was allowed to have with him. He could touch her, but she was not allowed to touch him. That was the nature of the tying-in frame.

  Warm, wet wax suddenly dripped over her back and ass. As it cooled, it burned slightly, sensitizing the skin beneath. She shuddered and sighed to give him the feedback that he needed.

  He wasn’t finished with her yet. Between her thighs, she felt a warm pressure. The slick slide of a dildo was only seconds behind. It nudged against her inner walls and easily fit within.

  The second oiled implement being shoved up her ass caused her to once again whimper and rise up on her toes in an effort to evade it. He simply waited until her legs gave way and she sank onto it of her own accord.

  She now had clips on her nipples, a phallus in her cunt and one more in her ass. And he hadn’t even gotten started yet.