Andrew Roller Presents
FUCK DECENCY
Issue No. 207
Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in
Private Places
Chapter Five
Two girls appeared, full with child. They unstrapped their papooses.
The male servant removed the babies to another room. The girls undid
their tops to let their bosoms hang free. They had large, full native
breasts, swollen with milk for their newborns. They stepped into the tub.
I saw that their clothes were newly-washed, made of plain cotton,
interwoven with tanned animal skins, a native hodge-podge, bundling them
against the elements, but pulled down now to bare their mammaries. They
motioned to Sam. They did not speak english. They got him to stand, drew
him close, kneeling before him in the hot water.
As I watched, the native girls held aloft their breasts and espressed
milk meant for their newborns onto SamÕs genitals. I gazed at his huge
swollen cock, eager to pump out its own male milk, and watched
spellbound as these two girls squirted female milk all up and down SamÕs
pulsing rod. SamÕs face lit up. His manhood quavered under the milky
assault, feeling, IÕm sure, quite sexy as the girlÕs breast milk spurted onto
him. It curliqued over his shaft, ran in trickles along the underside of his
thing, dripped off it or collected at the sensitive tip, looking like white
pee as it fell finally into the water.
Sam thrust himself toward one of the girlÕs mouths. She wagged her
finger, made him hold still. Then she bade Jill and I to come forward. We
kneed our way through the tubwater until we were face-to-face with
SamÕs shaft, his purplish head bobbing between us. Jill opened her mouth
and caught possessively at SamÕs knob. I swore under my breath. IÕd
wanted it! She began suckling him like a good little acolyte girl, blow-
jobbing her favorite priest. I ducked my head close and lapped at SamÕs
balls. I could taste the Indian femaleÕs breast milk upon them. It was
sweet. I wished I could be pregnant and give Sam a bath with my own tits.
The three of us handcuffed, captive, utterly nude, we pleasured each
other in the tub, Jill and I receiving SamÕs loins in our mouths. The Indian
females caressed my bottom, JillÕs. Kneeling, our legs as straight from
the knees up as our backs, the water came only halfway up our thighs. The
Indian maidens fondled our bottoms as if with a sense of remorse,
clucking to themselves, and I felt fright even as I happily shared SamÕs
organs with Jill. What would happen to us? Would we truly be whipped?
The maidenÕs hands upon our fannies seemed to say we would be.
Abruptly I was pulled back by my hair, Jill also. SamÕs rod trembled
before us, just short of cuming, needing only a final little lick. He let out
a woeful yell as he realized we must not give him his final pleasure. He
stabbed his thing at me, hopefully, I opened my mouth to receive it but the
Indian behind me drew me back farther.
ÒSit down, Sam,Ó I heard a familiar voice command suddenly. I
turned my head as best I could and saw hostess there, watching, dressed
in Safari garb. There was a riding crop in her hand. Idly she slapped her
thigh with it. ÒGirls, please receive your dinner,Ó hostess told Jill and I.
We did not move, did not know what she meant. Then, amazingly, one of
the Indians turned me around and presented me with her breast. She put
her arm out, cradled JillÕs head, and pulled her to her remaining bosom. I
found myself suckling her, Jill beside me, while the second Indian went to
Sam and, making him sit, gave him both her breasts to sup from.
Hot with lust, scared, I nursed myself upon the Indian motherÕs teat.
She did not seem to mind feeding me. Jill supped beside me, and I saw her
throw her hips forward, wishing to be aroused. The Indian did not
accommodate her. Hands bound behind us, we took out our frustration on
her teats. She screamed as we sucked hard, harder, biting at her nipples
finally in our distress. Hostess watched over us, making sure we didnÕt
hurt our Indian mother. She bent over us, tapped our bottoms a few times,
the stiff leather striking reprovingly upon our fulsome cheeks, just enough
to warn us.
When weÕd fed on the IndianÕs breasts they washed us down in the
tub. We shivered under their touch, nervous with sexual energy, with
uncertainty. When we were bathed and rinsed they made us step out of the
tub and, undressing completely, they toweled us down with soft towels.
They avoided our sexual parts mostly, letting them air dry, knowing a
wayward rub might send us jitteringly over the edge into bliss. Sam
especially they took care not to arouse. He was hard as a post, and I could
see that the slightest touch, in his state, might result in a sperm shower
for all of us. We knelt obediently, Jill and I, on a fluffy bath mat, while
Sam, stallion-like, stood over us, wanting us, but forbidden by hostess.
Permitted at last to stand again, Jill and I rose up on our feet and
stretched. We could not get our hands free of the cuffs, but we arched our
backs and stuck out our titties. We laughed at our indecency, gazing at
each otherÕs tits, but our muscles were tired from being so confined like
this. Stand, kneel, sit, kneel again, all the while with our arms pinned
behind us. I stuck out my hips, brushed my muff against hers. I would
have made love to her, if weÕd been allowed, just to burst the bubble of
pleasure that was swollen so desperately within me.
Jill responded, rubbed her muff against my own. I ground my hips,
feeling myself press against her, clenching my fanny cheeks, wishing...
ÒNow girls, letÕs check your makeup, itÕs all washed off I see, here,
sit down!Ó hostess ordered. I was made to sit on a soft velvet covered
stool in front of a lighted makeup mirror. Jill watched, still standing, her
hair lying tousled and wet over her frail shoulders, blonde hair wetly
draping white skin. One of the Indian girls plugged in a blow drier and my
mane was dried, and then my pussy hair, between my hopefully spread
legs. They checked my nails on my hands that were so fruitlessly pinned
behind me, touched them up with lacquer. Then they did my toenails. My
face was powdered, lipstick was applied, even mascara was put upon my
eyes, and I was perfumed in all the right places so I would remain sweet-
smelling.
Jill was then put into my seat, and I was forced to stand up and
watch as the same was done to her. Hostess, meanwhile, saw that Sam
got his share of toiletries. Finally all of us, still naked and bound but
smelling quite delicate, were ushered into a small bedroom.
Its walls were covered with red damask. A Monet hung silently on
one wall, in the opposite wall a window was cut, from which the jungle
could be seen. But bars of iron ran up and down over the window, blocking
our view, still letting us see but obstructing the landscape outside,
making it a prison landscape, viewed by prisoners.
A bed with a down comforter, just big enough for two, sat along the
wall, under the window. Its pillows had been plumped by a maid, whoÕd
turned down the covers for us. Alongside the bed was a serving table,
long-legged, wheeled, upon which I instantly smelled orange sconces. I
spied a warming basket, smelled rich French Roast coffee, saw the silver
teapot which I guessed must hold it. Despite my hungry sex, my shivering
fear, I immediately felt a desire to eat.
ÒSit on the bed and IÕll feed you,Ó hostess told me, told all of us. We
found our way quickly there, sat down with our naked, soon-to-be whipped
bottoms upon the immense softness of the bedcover, my bottom upon the
sheets, actually, while Jill sat jauntily on the fold of the quilt and Sam
sat with his cock dripping right upon the comforter, sure to ruin it.
My eyes danced like a puppyÕs as I watched hostess prepare our meal.
Besides the rolls there were steamed baby shrimp on watercress, laid on a
big plate in the middle, and bits of wet apricot and apple for our dessert,
plus tangy cubes of cheese, each one speared through with a toothpick. My
titties hung before me, nipples upraised, as I watched hostess unwrap our
sconces and butter them for us.
ÒYou will be horribly whipped tomorrow, but that is no reason to be
ill-treated while you are waiting for it, is it?Ó hostess asked us, her eyes
dancing, as we sat on our bare fidgeting heinies upon the bed. She fed us
the rolls first, letting us bite into them, not giving one to each of us but
having us each share them, me biting first, then the roll passing to Jill for
her bite, and lastly to Sam. The shrimp were dangled one at a time over
our lips and we were made to leap up from our bottoms, not standing, just
hopping on our asses a little to grab at the food. Hostess intermingled
bits of cheese with the shrimp, to add to their tangy taste, and made us
eat the watercress too, for our health, stressing the healing powers of
vegetables. Lastly we were fed the fruit. With hot coffee warming our
bellies we were made to lie back in the bed. Hostess put collars on us and
made us lie flat, on our backs, whilst affixing the collars by short ropes
to the head of the bed.
ÒTurn neither to the left or the right,Ó she warned. She stood over
us, gazing down at us lovingly. We were crowded, the three of us on the
bed made for just two, though, me being younger, there was a little more
room than there might have been, with three full-grown adults sharing it.
Hostess left us like that, assigning the Indian maidens to watch us.
They stood beside the bed, one on either side, and sheÕd given them a
revolver, and told them not to hesitate to use it. One of the maids took
great pleasure in her newfound power, admiring the revolver, spinning its
chambers. She pointed its cold barrel directly at SamÕs balls and, not
satisfied with just that, she actually stuck the gun right up against him,
as if she were going to shoot his balls off! Sam remained very obedient
under the watchful maidens, despite our imprecations for him to Òdo
something!Ó (what I donÕt know). His cock stood up stiffly, stiff as our
little nipples, and the day passed into evening and into night. The window,
open but with mosquito netting over it, admitted the night sounds. I heard
crickets, the flitting of songbirds. Monkeys quarrelled somewhere off in
the trees, over a mate perhaps. A lion roared, once, sending shivers down
our spines.
In the depths of the night someone came and uncollared me as I lay
drowsing. They removed my handcuffs. Sleepily I was led down a hallway.
As I came fully awake, I found myself in hostessÕ bedroom, her husband
lying in a sumptuous bed beside her. Both were naked, him with a huge
erection and she with a lithe body I thought only a cat might possess. She
had undone her hair. Her legs were parted slightly, showing her muff
between, carelessly. She watched as my eyes darted to her unprotected
sex. Her bosoms lolled on her chest.
ÒOh, mistress!Ó I cried suddenly, not calling her hostess anymore,
not remembering, just knowing she owned me and could do with me as she
pleased now. The dinner party was long gone. The formality of the city
had given way to the wild ways of the jungle, of master and servant, of
mistress and slave. ÒPlease donÕt whip me!Ó I implored. I leapt upon her.
I pressed my body against hers, hard, with abandon. I felt her powdered
skin beneath mine, so pretty. We were naked together, she and I. I felt the
rough hand of her husband fondle my bare ass.
ÒOhhhh, dear, such a frightened kitten, but it must be done,Ó she
assured me, kissing me nonetheless, dragging my tremulous lower lip
between hers and sucking solicitously. I mouthed her mouth. I offered my
tongue as penance, hoping to please her. She drew in my tongue between
her teeth and bit it gently.
I felt a calloused hand palp my hind cheeks. Mistress pressed her
hands to my bare hips, as if to plump my bottom for him. ÒYou violated the
law, sweet one,Ó mistress told me, still toying with my tongue upon her
teeth, as her husband gave my fanny a light slap. ÒTurn around and make
master happy. He likes seeing two girls give it to each other,Ó she told
me.
At once, eager to behave and show how very good I could be, I turned
about on the bed. Mistress lay underneath me, her legs spread, waiting to
receive my tongue in her pussy. With a workmanlike zeal I bent my head
down between her opened legs and began tonguing her. I gulped as I felt
her do the same to me. Her head placed comfortably upon a pillow, she
lifted my hips to her and darted her tongue into my slit. My bottom heaved
uncertainly. I was new at this. It was strange to give and receive at the
same time. She eased my thighs wider apart, my knees outside her,
trapping her a little, and dove into me again, her tongue a Jacques
Cousteau looking to conquer new depths. Fearfully I let a little fart. I
think it might have been the sconces, they were so rich, but mistress
simply laughed, wrinkled her nose a little, and continued probing me with
her tongue. Thankfully, my first gas attack was my last.
It was odd, kneeling there on the bed, in a 69 position, my vulnerable
bottom upraised, yet with her tongue stabbing into me. I licked her as
avidly I could, hoping to win forgiveness. I prayed Jill did not find out
about this, but each girl to her own, I insisted to myself. This was like
love and war, where everythingÕs fair game, with my bottom on the line
instead of my heart. The governor watched, stroking himself, and I
realized he was old enough to need something like this to make him hard.
Mistress and I went cumming at last over each otherÕs tongues. It
was odd, tasting a woman. She rolled me over and pushed my knees off the
bed and insisted on licking my heinie. Feeling her tongue on my soft fanny
I begged her anew not to whip me. But she just licked, laving my skin and
coating it with her saliva. After a little bit her husband introduced his
prick to my mouth. I didnÕt want it. I tried to expel it. Then, realizing he
would have the final say about my bottom, I took him greedily. I sucked
him in as deep as I could, gagging on him. He came quickly. At once I was
dismissed. The Indian maid who had brough me took me back to my
bedroom, where the others lay. My cuffs were reattached. She gave me a
quick bath in the bathroom and then returned me to the bed. I found my
sleepy friends eager to have me back, making a space for me, asking quiet
questions. I did not tell them any details of my stay in mistressÕ bedroom.
They were still both vibrating with passion, JillÕs cunny buzzing and
SamÕs rod stiffer than the governorÕs could ever hope to be.
Morning. The sunlight filtered through a hazy mist, bringing warmth,
brightness. Our window had no curtain. We were at the sunÕs mercy,
protected only by the rising mist. The night had been cool, but not
excessively so. I found the sunÕs rays slashing across my skin,
threatening to tan my pubis, where my swimsuit usually protected me. Oh,
if only IÕd kept my swimsuit on at the beach!
We were summoned. Our collars were unbuckled, left to lie upon the
bed. Naked but for our handcuffs we were taken downstairs. Stepping out
onto the front porch, barefoot, I saw a long line of native men decked out
in feathers and beads. They held long spears in their fists. They had
shields made of wood to protect themselves from us. SamÕs handcuffs
were unlocked, then JillÕs, then mine. We glanced at each other. There
was no hope of escape. Quietly, with my head bowed, I let myself be
pushed forward down the porchsteps and into the Indians. I passed down
between the two rows of natives, visibly shaking, one hand behind me,
caressing my bottom, the other uplifted, toying with the locks of my hair.
I tried to be calm, yet betrayed my fears. Jill followed, both her hands
clapped to her ass. Sam came last, striding confidently as he could, his
cock painfully erect, making the native men laugh at him.
I felt the wetness of the dew-moistened dirt beneath my feet. My
blonde hair, sugary-white, tumbled over my slim suntanned shoulders. My
fanny wiggled atop my legs, the skin creamy, delicate in its whiteness. At
the far end of the native lineup I emerged to see a post. It was a simple
affair, set in the dirt, three chains hanging from its uppermost point,
where wrists might be strung up for a beating. Beside the post stood a
husky native, wearing gloves, boots, and a tribal headdress. He gazed at
me as a cook might at a turkey about to be stuffed. Next to him stood a
small, spry Indian, a whip in his hand. To my heartbeating surprise I
realized it was a bullwhip!
ÒNooo,Ó I cried. My knees turned to jello. I did not want to go
forward to that terrible stark post! It was nothing but old wood,
splintery, yet thick as a young Redwood, and standing straight up, jutting
into the sky. Jill moaned when she saw it, woefully. We clasped hands.
Sam started, seeing our torture was real. He would not want to jab his
penis tip against that horrid post, I knew that!
Our Indian captive from the night before appeared, the maiden, still
bearing her revolver. Her breasts were nude now as theyÕd been through
the night. She stuck the barrel of the revolver into my belly, right into my
belly button. I gazed down at it. My softly swelling tummy might blow
apart at the slightest touch of her finger upon that hair trigger. Jill lifted
her chin and, seeing we had absolutely no choice, she urged me past the
maiden. I felt the revolver brushing along my tummy, falling away finally,
as I took a slow, fateful step forward. Our bottoms wobbling, we
proceeded up to the post and stood with our knees knocking in front of it.
The crowd surged behind us, drawing close. Sam came up to the post and
regarded it as one might a competitor.
ÒLift up your hands,Ó Jill said in a quavery voice to me.
ÒHuh?Ó I asked, but my wrists were so limp with fright that she had
no trouble raising them up. She pinioned me into the cuffs which dangled
down from the top of the post. I watched, my thighs trembling, my bosoms
high on my chest and jiggling hopelessly. I heard a snap and knew myself
to be bound. Jill kissed my cheek. Then she lofted her wrists up to her
own waiting cuffs and slipped one inside. She clicked it shut, trapping
herself, but she had no way to lock up her other wrist.
Graciously Sam buckled Jill into her other cuff. Then he kissed the
tip of each of her nipples. He turned to our captors.
ÒLet me fuck my wife before you do us,Ó Sam said...
OUR MAILBAG
[name withheld] writes: Òunsubscribe ... please remove me .... i've got
enough to read for the next 20 yearzÓ
(Floodgate has nothing on me! -h.j.)
AND IN THE END...
JewelÕs advice for 12-year-old girls
ÒThere really arenÕt mistakes. Be very adventurous and brave in
your life. Love bravely, live bravely. Be courageous. ThereÕs really
nothing to lose. ThereÕs no wrong you canÕt make right again. ...Take
chances. ThereÕs no bounds.Ó
- Charlie Rose, March 3, 1997.
----------------------- Fuck Decency! -----------------------
-Free Fuck Decency e-mail subscriptions: send (18 or up) age
statement to: roller666@aol.com
-To unsubscribe: Send $100.00 to The North American Man/Boy Love
Association, P.O. Box 174, Midtown Station, New York, NY 10018.
-My ftp site is: members.aol.com/roller666 Diapergirls! (CuntCastle2d)
-My ftp site is: members.aol.com/roller6666 CuntCastle3b here!
-My ftp site is: members.aol.com/nnd666 NudieNursery5 here!
-My ftp site is: members.aol.com/nnd66
-Recent back issues at Usenet newsgroup: alt.poop?
-For all back issues, send e-mail to: file.request@backdrop.com
-Fuck Decency: http://members.aol.com/nnd6/fuckdecency.html
-Free minicomics: send a stamped, self-addressed envelope & age
statement to: Jim Corrigan, P.O. Box 3663, Phenix City, AL 36868
-Naughty Naked Dreamgirls (Library of Congress ISSN: 1070-1427) is
copyright 1997 and a trademark of Andrew Roller. Work by others
copyright 1997 by the respective copyright holder.
-END OF 207 EMISSION