SINGAPORE, IS YOUR NET NANNY ON?
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Andrew Roller Presents
FUCK DECENCY
Issue No. 138
Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in
Bordello Girls
Chapter Two
ÒCome in, men.Ó A sultry voice, womanly, mature. It was Rose. We
stood in a room with six big chairs, one for each of the men. There was a
sideboard here, loaded with expensive liquors. There was no food, just the
liquor. A large daybed waited, railed on three sides with silver railings.
It was bare except for a smooth crisp sheet. No pillow, no cover. Beside
it stood a table upon which a variety of dildoes were brazenly displayed.
Several towels were stacked on a dresser, as if there were no doubt that
things would have to be wiped off. And then there was Rose herself,
elegant, her hair coiled atop her head, pinned up like an Elizabethan Lady,
except she was completely, absolutely, ravishingly naked. Except for one
small item. A tiny bikini panty, made of simple yarn, preserved her
modesty. It strategically covered her pussy with a little v-shaped pouch.
Along her hips it was delicately tied off with twin drawstrings of fine-
woven yarn. But when she turned around I saw that there was no back to
the panties, save for a simple thread that ran up through her
bottomcheeks. Her cheeks wobbled as she walked over to the table with
the dildoes. Arrayed amongst them was a bottle of baby oil. It was brand
new. It would have to be. There were a lot of shafts in the room that
needed oiling. Melissa reached down to pick up the bottle of baby oil. She
picked it up with a mittened hand, for she wore large mittens on her hands
of fuzzy pink fur. I wondered at the mittens. They hardly counted as
clothing, but they did at least conceal her hands, which perhaps counted
for something on a girl who wore nothing else.
Melissa slipped off one of her mittens and turned to face the men.
With her newly freed hand she opened the pouch of her panties. I glimpsed
her muff inside. She aimed the bottle of baby oil at it.
ÒIÕm ready, are you?Ó Melissa asked the men. She squirted her pussy,
squirting freely, filling the little pouch that did its best to cover her
pussy, a difficult task indeed if she was going to yank the thing open.
The men eyed her greedily. She was deliciously wanton. Melissa, her
ass bared, her skirt round her knees, stood in the grasp of the Black
Knight. I guessed IÕd never know his real name. But IÕd know his dick, too
well I imagined, before the night was through.
Rose did not squirt any other area of her body. Just her softly
waiting pussy, sleeping within the little pouch of her panties. She let the
pouch snap shut. There was a stain on the front of her panties where the
oil had seeped through. ÒPlease sit down, men. We have some big comfy
chairs for you,Ó Rose invited. They were chairs from ancient times,
perhaps from the reign of Louis 14th, newly upholstered, fit for kings.
Several of the men obeyed, sitting down on the chairs with their bare,
hairy asses. Rose walked up to the others and gave each a friendly swat
on his bare behind with her mittened hand. ÒSit!Ó she smiled.
ÒWhy do you wear mittens,Ó the Black Knight asked, still standing,
holding Melissa.
ÒBecause I know I will have to spank each of you many times before
the night is through, and I donÕt want to hurt you too much,Ó Rose smiled
at him. She gave him another swat on his bare ass.
ÒYou could swat me with your bare hand and it wouldnÕt hurt,Ó the
Black Knight answered.
ÒI know, you big, horrible hunk,Ó Rose gushed at him, amused,
delighted. ÒBut sit down anyway. There are six of you and only three of
us. I obviously canÕt just take you straight to bed as I would like to.Ó
ÒIÕd make sure the others wouldnÕt mind,Ó the Black Knight
answered, still standing. Melissa fidgeted in his grip.
ÒOh, enjoy yourself,Ó Rose urged. ÒSit down, let me do this my way,
okay?Ó
ÒAlright,Ó the Black Knight relented. HeÕd speared thousands of
girls, I guessed. He could enjoy a little decadence now and then, a little
delay, a little teasing. He did not have to immediately adjourn to the
bedroom this one time. He plopped his tight buns down into the nearest
chair, taking Melissa with him.
ÒAnd I need her,Ó Rose said, grasping MelissaÕs wrists, pulling her
from the Black KnightÕs grasp. He let the girl go. He was pliant. For once
in his life he was pliant. But his shaft remained totally hard. I wanted to
bow before it, to kneel and suck it. To worship it. But I knew he would
insist that I take it all, and IÕd never done that. I could not, I was sure. I
would gag, choke, cock-stuffed I would die that way, unable to breathe
with his big thing stuffed down my throat.
ÒTake off your dress, dear,Ó Rose told Melissa.
ÒBut--Ó Melissa began. She wanted to go downstairs and ÔtendÕ the
phones, I saw.
ÒNo, dear, you must help out,Ó Rose admonished. ÒWe have six very
big men here who need our services. You cannot just leave Jennifer and I
to do all the work. The men will be drinking. They will be peeing. You are
going to be the pee girl. Whenever one of them wants to pee, there is no
need, at least here, for him to get up and repair to the bathroom. ThatÕs
your job. You scurry right over and give him a cup to pee into, then empty
the cup when heÕs done, and wash it out, so you can be ready when another
man calls you.Ó She handed Melissa a cup. It was a big German beer lager,
big enough for any manÕs bladder, even the Vikings amongst us. It was
made of glass, wickedly, so you could watch it as it filled with urine.
Rose was slinky, sensuous. She called me over and whispered in my ear.
ÒI have handcuffs in the drawer there,Ó Rose whispered to me. ÒTake
them out and cuff the men.Ó I obeyed. I went to the drawer, opened it.
Sure enough, six steel handcuffs glinted up at me. I saw no keys. I picked
them up, shut the drawer.
ÒMen, Jennifer is going to handcuff your hands behind your back, so
you wonÕt play with yourselves,Ó Rose said in a voice dripping with honey
and guile.
ÒNot me,Ó the Black Knight replied.
ÒWhy? Are you afraid of three little girls?Ó Rose asked him. She
strode over to him. She ran her mittened hands over the shaft of his penis.
ÒI want your cock,Ó she said to him. ÒI want it all to myself. I donÕt even
want you playing with it or touching it.Ó Mesmerized by her words, her
touch, the Black Knight let me gently touch his shoulder, push him
forward. I took his big muscled arms in my hands, moved them behind his
back. It took some effort, I moved them with my tongue stuck through my
lips. It was like moving heavy, bulky furniture, moving those arms. At
last I got them behind his back and buckled his wrists securely with the
cuffs.
Rose and I moved to the next man. The Black Knight called out to
Melissa. She ran to him, received his pee in the big German lager. He
filled it right to the brim.
Bypassing the man who was already cuffed, we secured all the men.
ÒNow boys,Ó Rose let the word hang on her tongue, savoring it. ÒYes,
you are boys now, because youÕre cuffed. Men you were, but boys you are
now, peeing freely into MelissaÕs cup I hope. DonÕt hold anything back for
me.Ó She smiled, enjoying her hold on them, her sensuous maliciousness.
ÒAnd since you requested a drinking party, we have many liquors here for
you. It took a lot of trouble for me to buy them all. You should have seen
me trudging home through the snow, carrying them all.Ó She conjured up
an image of the Little Match Stick Girl. She laughed. ÒI expect you to
drink them all. Just ask one of the girls, and she will pour it in your
mouth.Ó
Rose picked up the bottle of baby oil. She walked over to the Black
Knight. She squirted him, just the cock. He sat easily, watching, his bare
haunches resting on the chairÕs fine upholstery. Rose went to the man
beside him next, sitting on his own throne-like chair, then the third, and
on down the line of glorious cocks until they all were properly greased.
I gazed at the glinting shafts. Six of them, the flower of manhood.
Rose drew me aside. ÒUndress,Ó she said in a voice loud enough for me to
hear. ÒTake everything off. I want you on the daybed with me. Melissa
can pour drinks for the men and receive their pee.Ó
Unknowing, confused, I took off all my clothes. At last I stood
before Rose bare as a newborn. Only my booties remained, keeping my feet
safe, secure. Rose squirted my nipples with the baby oil. I flinched but
did not try to block the stream. Then, to my astonishment, she dropped the
bottle to my crotch and squirted me right up my pussy. I wanted to turn
away, to stop her, but she held one of my hands as it darted out, steadied
me with her firm grasp on my moist palm.
ÒNow turn around,Ó Rose said to me. I turned. She shot the baby oil
right into the crack of my bottom. Up my crack she went, then down again.
Finally she prised my bottom open with one of her thumbs and shot
straight into my anus. I shivered, jerked, my cheeks trying to squeeze
shut. ÒRelax,Ó Rose said. A simple word. I tried to obey. She nudged my
anal hole with the tip of the bottle, inserted it. I clenched my cheeks.
ÒYouÕre going to take things up here, so you may as well be lubed for it,Ó
Rose said matter-of-factly to me. Of course. I was a whore now, wasnÕt
I? IsnÕt that precisely what whores did, let men put their things up them,
into them, or other things, wielded by whom? By Rose? She gave me a
squirt up my butthole. I felt wet inside. Wet and slick and sticky. ÒVery
good. Come to bed, dear, it is time for your nap,Ó Rose said.
We went to the daybed together. Rose with her mittened hands, her
tiny panties. Me stark naked, shivering. My hair ran down my back, hiding
some of it. I wished I had let my hair grow longer. I could hide in it like
Polynesian girls did, dancing topless, with their breasts fetchingly
covered by their flicking locks, their long dark hair covering their ample
cleavage. Rose pushed me onto the bed. I kneed my way onto it, my bottom
mooning the men, my cheeks wiggly. She got onto the bed behind me. We
turned, we faced each other on our knees. Their was a warmth between us.
And then I saw sheÕd brought a riding crop to bed. She held it in her hands,
her mittens gone. The baby oil was gone too. Instead, in her free hand, she
held a pacifier. Its nipple was in the shape of a cock. She stuck it into my
mouth. I received it submissively.
ÒTurn around dear,Ó Rose said. A simple phrase. I glanced at the
riding crop. In the distance I heard pissing. Melissa was at her work,
obediently receiving the menÕs pee, washing out her cup after each
urination. On my knees, I slowly turned about.
ÒNot too hard,Ó I whispered to Rose. The pacifier muddled my speech
but it was clear enough to a person with a crop what a bare bottomed girl
might be asking for.
ÒJust enough to make you cry,Ó Rose said in a reassuring voice. I
flinched. To make me cry? I did not want to cry, couldnÕt cry. Sometimes
when you want to cry you canÕt, and I knew it would take many flicks of
the deep-cutting crop across my bottom to make me cry.
I turned. I bent down. Gritting my teeth, biting the pacifier twixt
them, I bent down and let my bottom loft high to Rose. Anyplace else we
would have been two normal girls, but here upon the daybed I knelt with
my bottom presented to her. She knelt behind, admiring my assflesh, my
girlish curves, a crop poised in her hand. Discreet in her panties, she
looked upon my heinie. The men watched with bated breath, their cocks
impossibly hard.
ÒI do hope the sight of a girl being corrected doesnÕt make you spurt
into the air,Ó Rose said to the men. She looked at them slyly. Tokyo Rose
with rapt American soldiers watching, listening. ÒMelissa?Ó Rose called
to the girl. She was receiving a manÕs pee. The man cut off his flow and
Melissa put down the half-filled beer lager. ÒThere is a penis whip in the
drawer there,Ó Rose said, pointing to a second drawer beneath the one that
had so conveniently hidden the cuffs. There were more drawers besides
that one. I wondered what the other drawers held. Nightstands can be
delicious things, with sweet treats waiting hidden in the drawers, dildoes
arrayed across the table-top. They looked like missiles waiting to be
fired up my bottom.
ÒYou were naughty, dear, to let your bottom show downstairs,Ó Rose
told me as I knelt with my ass in her face, showing off to Teacher in a
most unseemly manner. ÒSee how you have excited the men, wiggling your
bottom about, letting them get in such a hot lather downstairs that I had
to handcuff them the minute they came up.Ó She reached, found a mitten
by the bedÕs edge and slipped it on. She swept her fuzzy mittened hand
under my ass, feeling the soft undercurve.
ÒThis is going to hurt you more than it hurts me,Ó Rose assured me.
WHACK! Down came the crop, right on the underside of my bottom, the
most sensitive part of my seat. My eyes bulged, I screamed between my
teeth, my pacifier clenched between them.
JESUS IS COMING!
Lately there has been much castigation of so-called Òchild
molesters,Ó and it is even said: Òchild molesters, theyÕre the worst.Ó And
we are told that child molestation is a growing problem.
At the same time 94 percent of Americans say that they believe in
God and more people go to church in America than in any other country.
Well, if (note that I said if) child molesters are terribly evil, and the
problem is growing, what are you complaining about, America? I could
understand how you might complain if you were Buddhists, or atheists.
But not as Christians.
The Holy Bible teaches us that Jesus is coming. But before Jesus can
come, Satan must rule the earth. So child molesters are just helping him
along. You should see their motives as altruistic, not selfish. Since we
all want to live in the presence of Christ, we need to hurry up and get him
here! There should be MORE molestation, not less! And, if you choose to
see child molesters as selfish and evil, you should nonetheless celebrate
their presence. They are an Ôindicator species,Õ much like the Spotted Owl.
The presence of molesters is an indication that Satan is coming and, after
him, Jesus.
So the next time you see some guy looking at your daughter, be
happy! It is a sign that Jesus is Coming. And if you read that drug use is
going up in America, run out into the street and shout, Òpraise the Lord.Ó
And if you read that your President is dishonest, and likes to get blow
jobs from girls too young to be admitted to a bar (i.e. Paula Jones) again
you should be happy. After all, there were many candidates to choose
from, and you chose the scoundrel. It is a sign that Jesus is on his way.
As the old saying goes: ÒBe careful what you wish for. You may get
it.Ó
VIDEO REVIEWS
by Deep Thought
Playboy STRIP, $19.95. VHS, 50 minutes, PBV 0783
Review: Lately Playboy videos have been getting better and better.
The first video I saw that showed improvement was PlayboyÕs ÔBottoms
UpÕ video. Next was PlayboyÕs ÔCheerleaders.Õ And now comes ÔStrip.Õ
I loved the box. (In fact, I sealed it in a plastic bag.) WhatÕs inside
is no less fantastic.
The video starts off with three girls, two of whom are absolutely
gorgeous. The first girl comes out on stage in a very, very short tube
dress. She quickly takes this off. Soon, she leaves the stage and another
girl comes out dressed in a very sexy maidÕs uniform! She quickly takes
this off. Then the maid (now wearing only her panties) invites a girl
onstage and rips her dress off. But the victim quickly becomes the
stronger of the two. She sits the maid down on the edge of a wooden chair
and proceeds to (very daintily) shave her pussy.
Actually, she only pretends to shave it (which is fine with me. I
hate shaved pussies.) What the ex-victim does is spread shaving cream all
around the maidÕs pubic hair, leaving her pubic hair untouched. (Well, a
few droplets of cream do manage to get caught in the pubic hair, much to
my delight!) Then the ex-victim turns a straight-edge razor Ôblade outÕ (so
as not to actually use the sharp side on the maidÕs skin) and proceeds to
scrape off all the shaving cream. Then she douses the maidÕs pubic hair
with a bucket of water.
Finally the ex-victim leads the maid offstage, both of them
gloriously naked and bare-bottomed. (I have it on good authority that
there was a dungeon waiting offstage, where the maid was forced to
endure further punishment, but then that could just be the product of my
over-active imagination, living in an era devoted to Ôpunishing
wrongdoers.Õ)
The next sequence features a blonde. She is very attractive. She
meets a man in a hotel room and undresses for him. Unfortunately, I have
seen this kind of Playboy vignette way too many times. (I canÕt tell you
how many times IÕve lost myself just as a MANÕS face comes on my T.V.
screen. I end up paying an ejaculatory tribute to some guyÕs hairy face.)
After this vignette there are others, but the girls get progressively
less attractive and everything that happens is totally boring.
My advice to Playboy is: forget the men. Have a girl meet another
girl in a hotel room and strip for her. Sure, itÕs unrealistic, but it beats
jacking off over some manÕs face! Also, be creative. The shaving scene
was great. Think up some other great scenes like that.
At least Playboy videos no longer concentrate on inane dancing.
Strip could have easily featured dumb music with semi-nude females
jumping around on a stage. Instead, we did have at least a modicum of
creativity. Playboy does need to improve its lighting, however. It uses
way too many strobe lights and shadows. Good strong lighting is what is
needed when a girl is naked! None of this strobe light bullshit. I want to
SEE what IÕm seeing! (ItÕs a video, after all.)
AND IN THE END...
YES, BENNETT, I CAN SPEAK TOO
(itÕs called America)
ÒThe Internet has made it possible for lots of really horrible things
to happen.Ó - Bill Bennett, C-SPAN, November 18, 1996.
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-END OF 138 EMISSION