Andrew Roller Presents
FUCK DECENCY
Issue No. 18
Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in
Love Child
Chapter Nine
Rebecca donned a coat, mittens, and boots. Her coat closed over
her bare legs. They remained sheathed in stockings, secured by tightly
fastened garters. Unlike me, she wore no panties. Rebecca wet a linen
handkerchief and wiped the insides of my thighs. "There," she said. "It
wouldn't do for you to arrive smelling of pee." She touched up my
makeup for me and then did her own, quickly, before the mirror. Behind
us John dressed most reluctantly in a tuxedo. He would be our
chaperone, our guide. Only in the dungeon would it be revealed that he
was really just Rebecca's pet.
At last John regained his manly composure. His face was still
flushed, though. There was a lump in the groin of his expensive
trousers. From his face you could see that he ached, for what? one
might ask. Only we knew the truth, though others might guess. He
yearned to ejaculate, to spill his seed immediately, at once, in his
pants if allowed to. Yet he contained himself, struggled down his need.
Commandingly he beckoned us. "We shall to the limo!" he said in clipped
British.
With quick steps we hurried across the sidewalk upon our arrival
in town. Pedestrians turned, looked. This section of the street was
dimly lit but there was no denying the flashing of my bare white legs.
No doubt they thought me a specially expensive whore. John strode
with all the authority of a british gentleman, though ladies might have
detected an awkwardness in his stride. Rebecca did not want to make
too much of a scene, though she delighted in my embarrassment. Into a
modest brownstone we dashed, leaving the spectators behind.
The quaint interior, with a narrow hall and victorian lamps,
belied the true purpose of this building. We were met by an Asian
woman. She was lovely, her hair piled loosely atop her head, golden
hoop earrings dangling from her ears. She wore a long flowing dress,
modestly covering whatever she might have on beneath.
The Asian mistress of the building saw our need and hurried us to
a room. We walked past doors within which I could only guess what
obscenities were transpiring. Arriving at our own chamber, she
unlocked its heavy wooden door, pulled it open with some effort.
"Candles or electric?" the Asian asked sweetly.
"You can just flip on the lights, we aren't feeling terribly
romantic this evening," Rebecca said. Indeed not. On the trip into town
she had put me over her knee, to keep my bottom warm, as she said, and
spanked me. The Asian saw my tear-stained cheeks and smiled. My
walk was not the most graceful, though I tried to make it so. Bottom
wiggling, I stepped with Rebecca and John into our new abode.
For a moment I stood in shocked silence as I saw what awaited
me. Exercise machines, modified, waited to receive my little body,
with straps to tie me down. It seemed I could be transfixed into all
sorts of positions. The room was pure wickedness. There was, indeed,
no romance here.
"May I take your coat?" the Asian woman asked me brightly. I
stood unsure, unsteady. Assuming the initiative she drew my coat off
me, standing behind me, and my boobs spilled nakedly into view. My
titties were as stiffly pointed as ever, excited with the dread of my
new surroundings.
Her own sharp tips upstanding, Rebecca let John take off her coat.
John and the Asian hung our coats in closet. It was a big, walk-in
closet, running the entire length of one side of the room. Obviously,
this room had not always been for sex play. At one time the closet had
no doubt held an entire wardrobe, but now it was mostly bare. Sex
partiers had taken over what, I guessed, must once have been an
apartment for a dignified English lady, a spinster perhaps, with racks
and racks of dowdy dresses. Or a gentleman maybe, with endless
varieties of dull dark suits, all lined up in the closet like soldiers.
Rebecca ordered me to keep my boots on but take my panties off.
I whisked them down off my blazing posterior, like some child eager to
jump into her bath. But I had to bend and struggle to get them over the
tops of my boots. It felt silly, sinful, taking off my panties but leaving
my shoes on. When I'd got the panties off me, dropping them to the
floor, I stood and stretched impulsively. I still had my mittens at
least. Sheathed in them, and in my boots, I felt curiously exposed, more
naked than if I'd not been wearing anything.
And this was not the place to be naked, that was for sure, from
the looks of the equipment they'd installed in here. I shrank back
suddenly, feeling very vulnerable. John reached out and grabbed me by
the arm.
"And just where might you be going, in the altogether?" the Asian
asked me sweetly. "Would you like to inspect our other rooms also?"
"N-No," I replied.
"She is such a darling little toy, one of the prettiest I've ever
seen brought in," the Asian said, complimenting me to Rebecca. "And I
see she's not above being a little naughty," she added with a glance at
my reddened bottom. "Just call for refreshments when you desire them.
We aim to please in all aspects. If you should require sleep there are
beds upstairs, where you can snuggle up with others or enjoy a room by
yourselves."
"You are so very helpful," Rebecca replied courteously. And then I
seemed to sense a flashing between their eyes, a quickening passion.
They were birds of a feather, those two, and suddenly they wished to
flock together.
"May I play with you?" the Asian asked Rebecca. She seemed to
reach back for the zipper of her dress even as she spoke, as if
permission had already been given, silently.
"Please do," Rebecca replied. "I need all the help I can get with
this little dickens." She gave me a meaningful glance. I felt small and
vulnerable. Not one mistress, but TWO? The thought was unbearable.
And a master to boot!
The Asian's dress dropped to her ankles. She stepped out of it, in
naught but a garter belt and stockings. They were black, fishnet, and I
realized for the first time that the flowing sleeves of her gown had
modestly concealed fishnet mittens on her hands. They were
fingerless, which is why I hadn't noticed them before. Thrust through
her garter belt, ready for use, was a short-tailed, short-handled pony
whip. It was tilted at a jaunty angle.
John disrobed quickly, eager to get his cock free of his clothes.
The women stood admiring him, along with myself, as he undressed.
Before we could even help him he was already naked. We closed in on
him, our hands eagerly seeking his febrile rod, his taut balls, his tight
ass. For a moment John stood there just relishing our attention, letting
his head tilt back. Then he lifted his hands and palmed our bottoms. I
had to squirm out of the way of his roving hand. My bottom was too
sensitive. We introduced ourselves to each other, standing there,
enjoying the closeness.
"You have made Barbi marvelously aware of her bottom," the
Asian, Danielle, said to Rebecca and John. "But what about her
nipples?" I shuddered. "I have little clamps, with bells. May I put them
on her?"
"Why not?" Rebecca replied.
A moment later I stood watching with great trepidation as
Danielle lifted a small clamp to my nipple. My buds were already
sticking out, deliciously stiff, but Danielle tickled them up anyway, her
fingertips light, feathery. Then she squeezed the peak of my right
breast, extruding the tip through her clamping fingers. I winced, cried
out. A moment later and a bell was affixed to the tip of my tit.
Danielle decorated my other nipple with a twin of the first device.
The ornaments weighted my uptilted breasts, pulling on them, yet
my bust remained as out-thrust as ever, the fleshy spheres jutting
forth. I drew in my breath deeply, glad at least that I'd survived this
latest torment, and the bells tinkled softly. I looked down at them,
surprised. My hosts laughed quietly. I shook myself, trying to shake
them loose, but they remained firmly upon my teats.
"I think we have our own cow, dear, and I don't doubt she'd like to
milk you," Rebecca said merrily to John.
"Now she is even a sweeter ornament than before," Danielle
smiled.
I did not know quite what to do with myself. My every movement
made my titties ring as if they were welcoming Christmas, or New
Year's. "She shall ring quite loudly when we whip her, I'll bet!" Rebecca
said. I shivered, sending the bells pealing forth again. "Come, dear,"
Danielle said, a welcoming smile pasted on her lips. "I think its time
we introduced the machines to your cunt!"
I allowed myself to be drawn foot-draggingly towards the closest
machine. It had a small saddle for a seat. Drilled through it, both near
the front and the back, were two holes, penis-sized. Danielle plopped
me down on the saddle and I saw, fearfully, that I was ideally
positioned to receive something through those holes right up my pussy
and ass!
"There was a girl who, when she delivered her first baby, had her
pelvic bone split apart by the baby's head," Danielle cooed. She drew my
thighs gently apart. Jutting out along either side of my saddle were
twin horizontal posts, covered in leather. When my thighs were quite
wide Danielle hoisted each of them, in turn, over one of the posts.
Reaching under the post, she drew a strap over each of my white thighs
and buckled it securely. I gazed down at myself, spread-legged, but
with my knees still bent and my feet hanging towards the floor, no
longer able to touch it. I felt like a little girl sitting in a chair that
was too big for her, feet dangling idly, aimlessly.
"I always thought it was such a shame for that girl to go through
such pain, such misery, with her childbirth, when a goodly amount of
fucking beforehand would have opened her right up. That's why my
dungeon is well equipped with big dildoes, to get a girl opened up
properly so she can have a very easy childbirth. I hear you were
pregnant for a little while, hmmm?" Danielle asked me with glowing
eyes. I gulped, nodded. "But I'm told that you're still very tight,"
Danielle said. She wet her finger in her mouth and inserted it with
clinical detachment right into my dell. I shifted uneasily, felt flames
lick up my injured bottom cheeks and squirmed even more.
Danielle fitted a dog's collar around my neck and drew me back.
Somewhere behind me she found something to fasten it to. I could no
longer move my head. I could only swivel it back and forth like some
bodiless creature whose head was kept in a box. Below the collar,
beneath my softly tinkling boobies the swell of my flat tummy curved
outward. My back was arched, offering my belly, as if it were begging
to be swollen with a man's impregnating seed.
"You won't be so tight after this, darling," Rebecca said to me
solicitously, patting my stomach. It hollowed with each of my indrawn
breaths, letting my ribs show. "Ah, how I'd love to see you with a big
belly, nine month's pregnant, with your tits swollen, ready to give
milk!" Rebecca added.
Danielle, who had slipped off for a moment, reappeared with a
silver serving tray. On it stood a range of dildos, like mighty missiles,
and to my shock and horror I saw that the biggest among them were as
huge as deli sausages! "It's for your own good, darling," Danielle
assured my stricken eyes. Delicately she set down the tray. "Do you
wish her opened both fore and aft?" she asked Rebecca.
"Why yes, some men are probably too big for her bottom right now.
What a shame that the very finest men should be denied any part of her
lovely body. She must be able to receive everyone," Rebecca said.
Carefully she was stroking John's penis, not wishing to make him come
but obviously preparing him for some impending duty. An
uncontrollable tremor washed over me, jangling the bells on my
breasts, sending shivers of pain through my scorched bottom.
"John," Danielle said sweetly, turning to him, her eyes admiring
his fine erection. "Barbi must be lubricated. I think you can fit in her
in front. Would you be so kind as to fuck her until you spend, so that I
have a nice juicy twat to work in?" Poor John, who had been fighting
back a release of his sperm since the bedroom, walked quickly over to
where I sat. Without even acknowledging me, he seized my thighs with
his hands. Brandishing his penis as if it were a spear, he thrust it
boldly up me.
I yelped, nearly split apart by the sudden intrusion. John rodded
me as if I were some inflated doll. With glistening eyes I looked up at
him, hoping to find some tenderness in his face, some appreciation of
all I was offering him. My boobs, sexily clamped, my slim, concave
belly, my girlishly narrow hips, my tight twat. But, sadly, he treated
me as if I were just his latest fuck, one girl among a whole line of
girls over the years that his wife had provided for his pleasure...and her
own. I was furniture, like the stool on which I sat, nothing more.
Wincing at my tightness, he nonetheless got himself fully up me,
needing only several preliminary, probing strokes to do it. They were
hot strokes, lusty, borne solely of his need. Deeply he burrowed into
me. And then, quickly, he came. His seed flooded my womb. He held
himself within me for a moment, relief showing on his features. He
flexed his hips, making sure he'd gotten every drop of boiling sperm out
of his desperate cock. Then, deflating, he withdrew himself. I hoped
for a kiss but he turned away.
"Poor girl, you didn't have much of an orgasm, did you?" Danielle
asked me mischievously, patting my head. Like some swimmer gasping
for breath my open cunt gaped, unsatisfied. My eyes, wide, hopeful,
gazed back at her. She knew I could not deny her dildoes now. I needed
them. I had to have them. Even if they seemed big enough to split me in
two.
Selecting one of the larger members, though, thankfully, not the
biggest (not yet!), Danielle spread the lips of my twat. Rebecca stroked
my hair and uttered soothing, nonsense words.
"There, there, baby, you're about to receive your first one,"
Rebecca whispered, as if consoling a virgin on the bridal bed. Danielle
managed to lodge the head of the big thing within me. Then she began
pushing, mercilessly. Wordlessly, mouth agape, I screamed silently as
the giant organ made its way up my tight passage. I felt like Tarzan
himself or, worse, one of his Apes was fucking me. Danielle twirled
the dildo, drilling me with it. Coaxingly Rebecca put both her hands to
my pussy and pulled me wider. Danielle pushed. Hard. Women are
always unsympathetic, IÕve found, to other females, despite their many
utterances of Òpoor babyÓ and Òlet me kiss it for you.Ó The words are
almost taunts, it seems, given how little pity they show when actually
inflicting the pain or watching it inflicted.
Rebecca ran her hands over me, as if assessing my physical well-
being. She slid her hands along the insides of my thighs. My legs were
fixed in place but she stretched my smooth, soft skin with the flat of
her palms, as if dragging her hands over my sleek body would open me
more.
The thing was jammed up higher. I bucked in my straps, wishing I
could dislodge the sturdy intruder. But the ladies weren't about to see
me walk around in the dungeon with a pussy tighter than theirs was, I
told myself. Danielle pulled back a little, to my vast relief, then began
hammering at me as if drilling the street with a jackhammer.
ÒAack!Ó I cried, tears springing from my eyes, streaming down my
cheeks. All my little girl fantasies about being fucked by huge men
with giant pricks, men youÕd see alongside the cement walk with
hardhats on and mustaches...it was all coming true at the determined
hands of two ladies! Were they trying to ruin me? Destroy me? Was
my cunt to be turned into a giant tunnel for the Tokyo subway to glide
through? Yet nature kept me from pleading for mercy, washing me
again and again with waves of pleasure. Bouncing, bucking in my little
saddle, I unwittingly played jingle bells on my boobies.
THE EDITORÕS SOAPBOX
Actually, IÕm sitting on a toilet, but what the heck, right? I mean,
this column would look sort of silly being titled, ÒThe EditorÕs Toilet.Ó
Anyway, somebody on alt.zines recently posted a message reading, ÒIs
there a FAQ for this group?Ó I was sort of puzzled by this message. I
realize that not everybody on the net is Ònet savvy,Ó but, in terms of what
each newsgroup is about, you donÕt exactly need a Ph.d. to figure it out. I
mean, if itÕs called Òalt.zines,Ó itÕs probably about zines, right? You can
post your zine, or post comments about your zine, or news about zines
being banned, or new distributors for zines, and so on. You could post your
golf score, I suppose, but I doubt too many people would be interested. It
seems to me as if people who want a FAQ to be posted have a hidden
agenda. They want somebody to be Òin charge.Ó They want him, or her, to
post Òthe rules.Ó Armed with a FAQ, the person who requested it intends
to ÒmonitorÓ the group, and send e-mail to people who they personally
deem to be Òin violation of the FAQ.Ó In alt.sex.stories there was this
girl, last summer, who asked for a FAQ and didnÕt get one. So she made up
her own, posted it, and then sent nasty e-mail to people who violated Òthe
FAQ,Ó which was in fact HER FAQ. So I think FAQs should just be done
away with. They are unneeded. Most newsgroups are self-explanatory. A
few, like alt.sex.pedophilia, might need an explanation. There might be a
girl in elementary school with no friends who doesnÕt realize that
alt.sex.pedophilia is a place where she can post messages and get friendly
answers. So she might need a FAQ. But, otherwise, in my opinion, FAQs
are just a waste of time.
Speaking of wasting time, I think all of those phone sex numbers in
America fall into that category. Except one, and itÕs free. ItÕs 1-800-
423-9494. ItÕs the number you call to buy stuff from Playboy. I have
called this number many times, and every time some girl who sounds
stunningly beautiful, who is really nice, answers the phone. Always a
different girl, too. Recently I couldnÕt think of anything to buy but I
wanted to call again, so I figured IÕd pretend to be stupid. I called up and
asked,
me: Do you have Bush?
her: Of course I have a bush! IÕm 16-years-old! They wouldnÕt let
me work here if I was any younger!
me: So, how much does it cost?
her: Cost? IÕm not for sale! Do you want a subscription to Playboy?
me: I donÕt know...are you in it? Does it have your bush in it?
her: Why do you keep asking about my bush?
me: Oh, donÕt you sell CDÕs? I thought you sold CDÕs. I need to get
the CD by Bush!
And so on. Another time I called and asked the girl if she had T&A. I
could swear I heard a group called T&A on the radio, but I could have been
mistaken. It might have been called Credence Clearwater Revival instead.
----------------------- Fuck Decency! -----------------------
-Free Fuck Decency e-mail subscriptions: send (18 or up) age
statement to: roller666@aol.com
-My ftp site is: members.aol.com/roller666
-Back issues at Usenet newsgroup: alt.poop?
-or send e-mail to: file.archives@backdrop.com
-Free minicomics: send a stamped, self-addressed envelope & 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) is
copyright 1996 and a trademark of Andrew Roller.
-NEW small Usenet newsgroup: uw.alt.sex.stories
-END OF 18 EMISSION