The blonde knelt in front of me. Without saying a word, as if no
permission were necessary here, she opened my legs. I shrieked as I
saw her bend down, pressing her face floorward until it connected with
my muff.
P U S S Y P A L S
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Andrew Roller Presents
FUCK DECENCY
Issue No. 204
Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in
Private Places
Chapter Four
Hostess, her own pleasure done, rose and turned to the men, scooting
Candi off her lap as she did so. ÒBoys,Ó hostess smiled. ÒMy, what little
boys you all look to be! IÕd think you were all in the second grade if you
werenÕt bulging with so much muscle. Now, you know you must retain your
seed until all the tattoos have been done. ItÕs your initials, after all, that
these girls will bear. When all the girls have been committed to you for
life, and believe me this is QUITE a commitment on their part, then I will
permit you to fuck them. What you must do is decide which girl will be
fucked by which of you. For I will not permit any man to have his own girl.
That would indeed be a waste of opportunities. And remember that these
girls must be taken up the bottom, not in their pussies. Their pusses will
be newly tattooed, and too tender. So please share any information you
have between yourselves about the state of your wifeÕs bottom. How many
times have you fucked her there? Can she take a man easily, does she
know how to relax herself? Or is she new to it? I do hope all of you have
at least tested your girlfriendÕs heinies. Even if she is an anal virgin you
will not get to fuck her. No, that will be your punishment for not breaking
in your wife when you were supposed to, at home, at the first opportunity,
whether she wished it or not. ThatÕs right, girls,Ó hostess added, turning
to admire them. ÒAny of you who have refused your boyfriends your
bottomhole will not leave here tonight still a cherry. Every girl will get
her ass fucked tonight. And if you need to be warmed by the whip to make
you receptive, we will do that also,Ó hostess added. ÒThe birch rods are
not, in fact, just for decoration, or to give an impetus to a tardy maid like
Candi here. I see most of them still lie untouched beside their respective
plates. What a pity! DonÕt hesitate to warm yourselves with them if you
need to.Ó
Jill and Gwen and the others stood listening with rapt attention. I
saw that Jill was absently feeling her own bottom cheeks, actually pulling
them apart in back, as if sheÕd never taken anything there and was scared
to death to do it tonight, in public, in such strange company. Gwen
noticed, ran a sly finger down JillÕs spine. Jill turned, looked at her, a
touch of fear in JillÕs eyes.
ÒPlease gag Flurry,Ó Gwen told Jill. My blonde friend cast her eyes
frantically toward Sam. He smiled back tensely. He could not make up his
mind what to do. There was his wife, apparently a cherry when it came to
buttfucking, yet he was so enthralled by all the nude females before him,
so possessed by the need springing from his own loins, that he could do
nothing but listen to hostess, and obey. He stood, merely watching. Gwen
had a leather gag in her hand and passed it to Jill. Had Gwen gotten it
from hostess? From hostessÕ boyfriend? I could not know. I had not
noticed. Jill accepted the gag, swallowed nervously, looking at it.
ÒYes, Jill, youÕll be next. But gag your friend first. We must start
with her,Ó hostess intoned. Her voice was cold. It brooked no dissent.
Jill looked at her husband again and, finding no reprieve, came up to me.
She spread my lips as one might open the mouth of a horse, unlovingly,
mechanically, almost, it seemed, blaming me for what must happen to her.
I wanted to tell her it was not my fault, but she stuffed the strip of
leather into my mouth, deeply, so that I could not speak or even close my
teeth together again. Harshly gagged, my tongue pressed back, she tied the
gag behind my head with a casual flip of her own, tossing her long blonde
hair out of her eyes so she could better see to bind me.
I felt the wetness of my saliva upon the deep-pressing gag. It was
made of canvas. I could barely clench my teeth upon it. I could not even
dream of closing my lips. And, down below, retaking her seat, hostess
now separated my cunny lips with her hands.
ÒLalique is such a lovely name, and ÔLÕ such a lovely initial, donÕt you
think, Fleury,Ó hostess asked me. Her eyes were wicked. I could not move.
I could not answer. ÒI hope you agree, really I do, because youÕll be
wearing it for the rest of your life!Ó hostess chortled. Gwen had taken a
birch rod from the table and, as Jill checked my gag to make sure it was
secure, leaning forward a little over me, Gwen whacked her lovely white
heinie with it.
ÒHey!Ó Jill protested. Immediately she forgot about me and her
hands flew behind her tushy to protect it and assuage the sting.
ÒAre you an anal cherry, my dear?Ó hostess asked Jill, ignoring the
girlÕs hard feelings about having her bottom so rudely struck by GwenÕs
birch. Jill nodded, still rubbing her bottom.
Ah, how demure she must look, walking the streets, I thought. Jill
worked part-time in a law office, as a legal secretary, typing briefs in
accordance with rules and principals of the Law. Yet now here she stood,
utterly bereft of clothes, holding her heinie like some wayward toddler
whoÕs just been taught that Mommie is boss.
ÒYouÕll need a little whipping then, to get you ready,Ó hostess
answered. ÒMy, how frisky you look! All naked, as if ready for skinny-
dipping. And so young and lovely. When the night is done your cunt will be
tattooed, your bottom well-fucked (for I think the men will line up for a
chance at a new virginÕs bottom!), and your pretty ass striped. You will
know what it means to be a properly-wed wife then! No more pussyfooting
around, eh Jill? Your husband has been to easy on you. That is the problem
with men: they love their women so much they donÕt dare do what must
needs be done, to bring them fully into the office of Womanhood. ThatÕs
why IÕm here, Jill. ThatÕs why your husband arranged to bring you to me.
YouÕll be truly married after tonight, dear. Now wait patiently for your
fate, and watch closely. How nice it is of little Flurry here to agree to go
first. YouÕve no objection, have you, Flurry?Ó She eyed me now, taunting
me. ÒCandi, letÕs do your painting. HereÕs the brush, girl, and the ink.
Paint nicely now. Any mistakes will find you most apologetic, I can
assure you.Ó
ÒYes,Õm,Ó Candi said. She resumed her spot on hostessÕ lap where
she had so recently paid tribute to her with her cunt. Now she took up a
fine, feathery brush, and gently intruded it into my cunny. Hostess held
me open for her. My lips yanked apart, Candi began daubing the ink into my
cunt. ÔLÕ it would say, in cursive, when she was done. Candi tickled me
with the brush, making me giggle, despite my fear. The brush itched a
little as it stroked over my insides. Within a minute or two, working
intently, Candi was done. Now they switched places. Candi held my nether
lips apart, while hostess picked up the longest needle. It was about the
length of a good cigarette holder, but much narrower. Mostly it was for
show, of course, only the very tip of the needle would be used on me.
I drew in my breath over the gag as hostess leaned close with the
needle. Candi pulled me wider apart. Suddenly I felt a little poke. I
screeched into my gag. My bosoms heaved upon my chest. My nipples
wiggled, naked and delicate, yet as erect as the needle itself.
ÒQuiet, girl!Ó hostess hissed. As Jill watched, holding her pussy now
instead of her bottom, Gwen lightly stroking her back, teasing her tailbone
down where her spine ended, caressing her ass, the needle was driven in
again.
I lurched in my chair. Hostess was not deterred in the least. Again
the needle poked me, and again. My tenderest, most intimate place was
being subjected to the stinging of the bitter needle, remorselessly. I was
jabbed repeatedly with it. Oh, how many girls my age still feared being
Ôtouched inappropriately,Õ yet here I was being touched with the needle,
each jab of it stinging me deep into my very core (which indeed was right
where it touched me!) Hostess worked quickly, not wanting the ink to dry
on her. Jab! Jab! Jab! And then, with my legs straining to break free, my
arms tugging at the ring, it was at last done.
ÒIt is finished,Ó hostess said. She looked up at me. She lifted a
tissue and applied it to my cunny to absorb the little pinprick droplets of
blood that decorated me there. I collapsed in my bonds. My body went
totally limp. It was over, over, over at last. I was a new woman. I hated
the tattoo, but the men, their staffs pointing upward, watching me,
admiring me, made me feel proud of myself as I lay limply there in the
chair. I barely felt the hands that came to untie me. I was returned to my
chair, where I sat huddling myself upon my velvet cushion. In my place,
Jill was strapped. She shrieked at the last moment, refusing to be tied
down. Hostess slapped her. Her own husband was brought in to help in
tying her down. The second maid, Karen, came to me and spread my legs
and knelt down in front of me. Afraid for my pussy, she licked my
bellybutton. I had an innie, and she impressed her tongue into it, and held
me, and hugged me. I did not mind. I needed someone to comfort me after
my turn in that awful chair.
One by one each of the females present was bound into the chair and
tattooed. Finally they all stood around admiring hostessÕ handiwork, all
but a few who, like me, sat disconsolately in a chair or, in the case of one,
adopted a fetal position and lay holding herself on the floor. The girls who
stood, including Jill and Gwen (Jill having found her courage at last, after
the deed was done), stood and passed a handheld mirror around. It was
silver. They each of them put it to their pussy and looked inside
themselves at their husbandÕs initial, tattooed for life there in their
innermost place. I watched out of the corner of my eye as the girls all
admired their pussies. How strange and beautiful they looked, I thought,
like tall willows, standing there utterly nude, gazing at their pussies. By
day they were college students or secretaries, all prim and proper, or
doctors even, wearing the formal garb of their profession, but here now
they were just nude females, looking at themselves in a mirror.
One act still remained. They all knew it too, you could tell, for they
stood flexing their hind cheeks, apprehensively, even as they admired
themselves. Gwen slipped the mirror from JillÕs fingers. Jill let her,
fearing yet knowing what she must show her. ÒHereÕs your bottom, Jill,
all nice and white and virginal,Ó Gwen teased her. One blonde held the
mirror for the other to see. Jill looked over her shoulder at the reflection
of her own bottom in the mirror. With soft fingers Gwen stroked JillÕs
hind cheeks, then forced them apart, trying to show Jill her own anus. It
did not quite work, but just seeing it, seeing Jill try to get a last look at
her cherry hole, made me shiver and wonder deeply at my own fate. How
many men would insist on trying my bottom? After all, it was probably
not every day that they got to fuck a 13-year-old! Hopefully Candi would
help me with such chores. She was my age. Let her take half of them. But
she had won a reprieve from hostess. And her own pussy was not tattooed
like mine was. She could take them the normal way.
ÒLine up, girls!Ó hostess ordered. She took up one of the birch rods
and made us all stand up, every last one of us, even the weeping girl who
lay on the floor, in a straight line. She walked down the line in front of
us, whisking our bare thighs lightly with her birch. The men made sure we
stood still and did as we were told. Karen, who had so recently consoled
me with kisses, now brought a box out from the kitchen.
ÒThere are enough collars for each of you in that box,Ó hostess told
us. ÒI want each of you girls to get a collar and buckle it on yourself, or
have a friend do it for you.Ó Karen offered each of us a look into the box.
We each took from it a dog collar. Alas, was I to be collared like a dog in
preparation for being fucked like a dog? It seemed it was to be so.
ÒCome, let me put it on you,Ó Jill offered. She was more sure of
herself now. She was a wedded wife and she knew that someday this night
had to come. She had just not expected to lose her precious bottomhole
virginity in the company of other people, thatÕs all. But she seemed
grateful that the decision was, for all practical purposes, out of her
control. Firmly she buckled me into my collar. I stood quietly, my bottom
rotating behind me, nervously, not knowing what to think but sure that
none of the men in this room would let me escape. She almost broke a nail
getting me into the collar, for she was almost as scared as I was, though
her self-control was keeping her fear down to a manageable level.
I in turn affixed one of the dogÕs collars to her own pretty neck.
When all of us were wearing the awful devices, we were led up to the
table, where hostessÕ boyfriend, working quickly, had screwed in a series
of rings, all in a row. Jill bent me over the table, placing a small pillow
beneath my tummy, handed to her by Gwen. I was pressed downward until
my cheek came into contact with the implacable table. It was polished,
deeply waxed. With a click my collar was fastened to the ring in the table.
I could not rise now. Instinctively my hands flew back to protect my
bottom. Laughingly Gwen grabbed them and pulled them together and tied
up my wrists with a new strip of rawhide. She bent my elbows so that
they crossed over the midpoint of my back, and bound my wrists there,
each to my crossing-over forearm. I was helpless now. Helpless as a
little froggie I once examined, as a small girl, holding it up, curious,
holding it by its legs and spreading them apart and looking at its bottom. I
was only two, IÕd not learnt fear of frogs and such things yet at that age.
IÕd seen it hopping in my back yard and I just picked it up and looked at it,
just like that. A curious two-year-old, goddess of my own backyard,
examining a interloper. It had wriggled free at last, helped by its slime.
IÕd not picked up anymore frogs after that. Soon IÕd become a little girl,
all curls and pink dresses and pretended screams. But, at two, IÕd been
half-boy still, unlearned in feminine ways, playing in mud and declaring
myself to be Queen of all that I saw.
I was not Queen now. I was Slavegirl, my arms bound up, my ass
quite nicely posed over the table, in the opinion of the men. They gathered
around me. Hostess selected one of them to have me. Meantime all the
other girls were being collared to the table. Jill, even Gwen, Candi and
Karen doing them, for hostess was busy with me. A few of the girls
resisted. The men helped with those, promising them good spankings to
make them reform.
Wriggling over my pillow I looked down the line of girls. Each was
petulant, pouty, trying to escape her fate now. But in each case a man was
assigned to ensure she gave up her anus. There would be no privacy
tonight, no hidden secrets, nothing withheld. The men advanced upon us,
my own taking his place behind me. His fellows dispersed to have a girl of
their own. Hostess surveyed all. Candi and Karen moved quickly to grease
each manÕs pole, not wanting to go too slow, lest he try taking the girl
before him with nothing but his bare cock. After all, it was not his wife
he was about to fuck. Why should he care about her comfort? He and all of
his brothers were desperate to relieve themselves of their spermy
burdens. I felt my own man stab at me, impatient. At last Candi reached
him and insisted he hold himself back while she greased him.
ÒNone must begin until my say-so,Ó hostess advised, hoping to keep
all the men at bay until each was properly lubed. Candi touched a bit of oil
to my hole to prepare me. Two girls remained. Karen did them.
Wickedly poised, we waited for hostessÕ permission to begin. My
own man urged just the tip of his cock into me, surreptitiously. I gasped.
I wished for my gag again, lest I scream out and tattle on him. He urged in
a little more. I felt his big knob splitting me. One man in line yelped as
hostess gave him an admonitory whack with her birch.
ÒNow, gentlemen, before you so eagerly take what is offered, I want
to remind you of my birch,Ó hostess said. ÒIt is available for any girls
that prove too resistant. Do not force yourself beyond what she can take.
Go easy. I realize it is not your wife you have before you, but somebody
else is fucking your Lady, so your consideration for his bride will no doubt
be repaid by consideration by him for yours. Let us begin, then. Be happy,
Jill, that I spared you a whipping. But relax your hiney properly, or youÕll
feel it yet!Ó
-------
ÒIÕm a 19-year-old Burger-flipper in training (in other words,
working toward a Liberal Arts degree in a Spanish-English major).
ÒQuieres papas fritas con esto?Ó Wish me luck. IÕm hoping to teach
creative writing,Ó writes Lauren Duckett.
Ò...IÕve been published multiple times... and published in [the 1993]
anthology, A Walk in the Clouds.Ó
THE JOY OF PLEASURE DELIVERANCE
by Lauren Duckett
How the moment arrives is of no importance. Whether he lies on
his back or stands erect matters little. What is vital is feeding and
none have yet denied. This is when the similarities begin, when it is
all the same.
The struggle for the enlarged shaft often humors me, annoying
him until I draw it as deep as possible between my lips. Next, the
unspoken guarantee: IÕll begin to caress the ruffled flesh with my
tongue.-gently only when necessary. Rhythmically pulling as mouth
muscles contract, sucking softly on his puckered skin, IÕll wait. IÕll
wait for the inevitable suspense, built up until a raging release (or
frequently, several releases) arrive, flowing forth to quench my thirst.
Thank you.
AND IN THE END...
PROTECT THE CHILDREN -- GIVE THEM POT!
ÒFourteen children aged 12 to 17 are in Boston-area hospitals today
after ... overdosing on a muscle relaxant. ...Hospital officials say ten of
the victims, mostly girls, are in serious condition, many of them on life-
support systems.Ó
- Reuter, March 1, 1997.
(itÕs impossible to overdose on pot. -h.j.)
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-END OF 204 EMISSION
- ClintonÕs legacy -- dead children from Waco to Boston.