Andrew Roller Presents
FUCK DECENCY
Issue No. 218
Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in
Private Places
Chapter Seven
(Chapter Five ended in issue 211. All references to Chapter Five after
issue 211 are erroneous.)
ÒYou girls are born without penises, yet your most important goal in
life must be to accommodate yourself to the male penis, to learn to accept
it as a part of yourself,Ó Max said. ÒAs girls, you are taught to fear men
and their penises, which is too bad, really, for men will not have their
cocks denied. Would you both live to be old maids? I think not. So let us
begin, then, helping both of you.Ó He led us with this flowery speech
deeper into the dungeon. Flicking on a little lamp, he showed us a table
with gags laid out upon it. I saw Jill and I would be helped, whether we
wished it or not, in learning to suck cock, for there were all sizes of
penises laid upon the table, each one able to fit into a gag that would be
worn in a girlÕs mouth. ÒWould you like to start small,Ó Max asked, Òor
attempt something big?Ó
Jill gulped. She scanned the assortment of rubber cocks. I saw her
bottom cheeks twitching as she contemplated them, her boobs rising and
falling softly. ÒSomething big,Ó she said finally.
ÒJill!Ó I protested. She should not push herself too far. Especially if
it meant I would be fitted with one the same size as hers! Suavely Max
took up a gag, and asked Jill politely to open her mouth. She obeyed,
obviously scared, yet parting her lips, not resisting. He eased her teeth
more widely apart, then inserted the gag. She coughed. He bound it behind
her, in the nest of her lovely, tumbling hair. Were the women watching?
Were they laughing at her fright?
There was a slit in the middle of JillÕs gag. She tried to close her
teeth over it, but Sam opened them. He picked up a large rubber dildo, not
one as big as his cock, thankfully, and stuffed it into the slit in JillÕs gag.
She revolted a moment, bucking her head, twisting away, but he shoved it
forward until she had all of it worked into her mouth. It must have
rammed against the back of her throat, and I dreaded having to take one
just as big. Max attached the dildo with snaps to the gag so that it would
remain in place.
Jill turned her head, looked at me, free of MaxÕs hands at last,
looking ridiculous, like a harnessed horse, except a horse did not have to
suffer a cock in its mouth. She tossed her long hair. She was truly
ÔbittedÕ now, no doubt about it, gagged, with her wrists bound behind her.
Her hair fell into her eyes and she flicked her head again, but some
remained still. Her tits wiggled freely. Max grinned at them, plotting, I
feared, to put clamps on them.
ÒPrance about,Ó Max ordered. ÒLet your husband see what a fine
young filly you are.Ó Jill lifted her knees high and marched herself around
Max twice, glancing at him nervously, fearful to disobey yet not really, I
think, wanting to play horsey before the hidden camera with its unknown
viewers. When she stopped, panting, her breath muffled by her thick gag,
Max turned to me.
ÒYou must attempt one the same size,Ó Max told me, letting his hand
pass over the cocks so neatly arranged on the table. ÒThough, you are
somewhat smaller, so a proportionally smaller cock will be okay...Ó He
found one my size and picked it up. I opened my mouth. I felt like I was at
the dentist. (And how I would have preferred it, even to get a cavity
filled!) Max pushed the cockhead within my parted lips, pressing them
wider apart, filling me with the awful penis shaped gag. Then he lifted a
strip of leather, put it over the base of the penis, snapped the two
together, and tied the whole thing up behind my neck. I turned my head to
face Jill. She stood watching me. We were twin horses now. We could
neither speak, nor resist, our master.
ÒForgive me, girls, but since you have taken up an equestrian
lifestyle, I must ensure your compliance with the appropriate
instrument,Ó our new master grinned. Reaching into the shadows, he drew
forth a little pony whip. It had a short, stout handle, almost too small for
his big palm. He gripped it with a sense of humor, as if he were an older
boy taking hold of his younger brotherÕs toy. The lash itself was
capriciously thin. However, being so short, I thought it could not hurt me
too much. Salaciously I waggled my bottom for him. Standing there bare-
legged, I wanted to be struck on my seat with it, and I think Jill did too.
How terrible it is to be a girl, you must think, reading this, wanting to be
dominated and whipped and fucked, despite spending hours putting on
makeup, or polishing our nails, or thinking about how to be ever so
perfectly beautiful. I cannot explain it. But when I felt that slim lash
burn into my bottom I leapt forward, shrieking a little, as if in protest,
and it hurt too, it did, I did not want it, yet as I felt my boobies spring up
and down beneath me, my small feet flying forward to avoid the lash, I
felt female entire, as if IÕd at last arrived at some blissful state, with a
man who would make me into a true woman.
Jill skipped forward with me, both of us receiving anew the pony
lash upon our bottoms. It whistled and struck into our quivering seats
again and again. Max drove us deeper into the dungeon. I dreaded going
deeper, for I knew at the very end of the dungeon, like Lucifer in Hell,
must lie its most awful secrets. Amidst the ever deepening gloom, far
now from the lights which lit the dungeon entrance, machines of
inexplicable horror loomed up at me. I could not tell their purpose.
Somehow Max (or somebody) had found them and gathered them here,
polished them up, and rebuilt them. Each had probably originally been
made by the Catholic Church, I guessed. Their aim had been to break
sinners, cut off their limbs or put them to death if they resisted. Now, I
supposed, theyÕd wickedly been converted into items of fertility, or
pseudo-fertility. Now they stood for the purpose of breaking a girl in to
sex. Young wives, little girls, it mattered not, I imagined, to Max. Even
older women, if theyÕd become too frigid for their husbands, too Hillary-
like in their presumptiveness, might be brought here and retrained into
obedience to the male penis. They would leave humble and subservient.
All my feminist training in school made me want to rebel against such
male-dominating devices. And yet, in a way, my training drew me in
closer, made me ever more curious. With my nipples springing up on my
bosoms, hard and desiring, with my belly so soft and slimly adhering to my
hips, longing to be swollen with male seed, with the awkwardness of my
youthful hips and the sassy swell of my girlish seat, I wished to explore,
and to be explored upon those terrible phallus-like machines. Jill too
looked quickly from side to side, in awe at the cave into which we were
being driven, and its contents. Like mushrooms growing on the forest
floor, the place seemed over-stocked with dildoes. Big ones, smaller
ones, ones with nubs down their sides, circus-like, to be twisted inside
some female so she might become acrobatic in her bonds.
At last, coming round, I think, to the wall that fronted the stairs, we
were in the most secretive part of the basement. There I saw a small
lamp. It stood on a nightstand that held a vase of fresh flowers. A nice
touch, in such a forbidding area of the dungeon. Had Max prepared it for
us? He must have.
Max ceased his flailing upon our shivering, whip-stung heinies. Jill
and I stood squeezing our cheeks, trying to rid our bottoms of the pain that
enflamed them in insidious little stripes. My ass felt like a road map,
each road delicately carved into my flesh with the awful kissing of the
whip. Jill tossed her head backward, stood churning her ass and clamping
her cheeks together. I drew mine it too, but not just from the whip. For it
was then that I guessed the purpose of the two settees laid out before us.
Upon each pillows had been placed and plumped, about mid-way down. I
saw straps affixed to each sofa, and they seemed specially strong, as if a
girl were sure to buck and struggle here with all her might. I wished to
turn, to run, but Max loomed up behind me, watching my bottom with
fascinating and just barely containing, I think, his urge to flay us both
alive right then and there, whacking us perhaps with his hand, slamming
his palm into our asses again and again until we were no more.
I felt a poke in my seat. I turned my head, my eyes frightened. It
was MaxÕs cock. He had not intended to jab me right between the cheeks of
my bottom, I guessed, but was simply too big to avoid it. The dungeon was
a little cramped here. He eased himself around me, watching myself and
Jill all the while, ready to spring at us if we made any attempt to run
away.
In the light of the small table lamp I saw two dildoes. IÕd ignored
them at first. They were much too big to be anything but a joke, werenÕt
they? Max took them now in his hands and lifted them up. Each one put
the handle of the pony whip to shame although, comparing them to MaxÕs
penis, I think there might have been a fair contest between them in size.
ÒYou girls are reported to both be inadequately receptive in your
behinds,Ó he said, his voice a low, controlled snarl that sent chills of
wonder down me. What did he intend to do? Could I take it? Did I want
to? Jill seemed to thrust out her bare bosoms as if to say, ÔShe, the little
girl, cannot take hers, but I can take mine.Õ Well, we would just see about
that!
Max turned the dildoes in the lamplight, opened a jar of vaseline and
dipped each one in, lovingly, as if knowing where theyÕd be soon, and how
remarkably theyÕd impress themselves upon their victims. ÒYes,Ó he said.
ÒYou will both be strapped down here, on these couches, and given these
gifts up your ass. Sam purchased them for you, and others besides, bigger
still, to be worn by you here each day. For a period each day I will bring
you both down here and I will insert ever-larger dildoes into each of your
assholes. Why, you ask? I know you must be asking it of me, even though
you cannot speak. When you are at last done with me, you will be taken to
a party. Men will be there, and it will just be you two, and you will have
to serve them. You will not want to be too narrow in back then. Mistress
Lalique has arranged for you to both entertain young men fresh from boot
camp on the army base. They will be lusty, and they will want to fuck you
in your asses, because in army training they must submit themselves in
such manner to show their utter obedience to their sergeant and their
nation. Naturally, such submissiveness is repulsive to normal young men,
and they will want to expiate their fears and their misgivings at their
own masculinity by pounding you both in your bottoms. Besides which,
being locked up in boot camp, theyÕll be lusty as hell, as IÕm sure you both
can imagine.Ó He grinned. ÒSo you see, girls, it does have a purpose, this
idea of having you lie over these couches and train yourselves to take big,
large, manly dildoes up your little bottoms. I know there are fat girls in
college who would love to be imprisoned with young army studs for the
weekend, and made to serve them. Naturally, of course, such girls are
never invited. But you are, and you will serve these men, because Mistress
Lalique has planned it this way, and promised Sam compensation for your
services.Ó He laughed. ÒYes, dear Jill, you will not have to live in your
sweet little lovenest condo anymore. You and Sam will be moving up to a
proper house, in a proper neighborhood, where you will take on the real
duties of a real wife and begin bearing children for Sam.Ó
HOT OFF THE PRESS
Exotic Magazine, Volume 4, Number 9, $1.95. 8 1/2Ó x 11Ó magazine, 42
pages plus a slick cover. X Publishing, Inc., 625 SW 10th Avenue, Suite
324B, Portland, OR 97205. email: xmag@teleport.com www:
http://www.xmag.com
Review: ÒTrina grew up in 1950Õs New York City; a well-read
youngster who orgasmed regularly reading the exploits of every newspaper
strip heroine she could find, from Invisible Scarlet OÕNeil to Moon Girl. ÔI
never did like boy comics,Õ Trina remembered. ÔI started copying cereal
boxes, the art on them. My parents were very liberated and, thankfully,
they let me be an artist!ÕÓ
Thus begins a multi-page biography of comic book artist Trina
Robbins. ItÕs accompanied by an excellent panel of her art. It features
luscious, petite heroines who look grimly determined yet, at the same
time, attractively vulnerable. IÕd be willing to break Ôthe LawÕ if I could
get arrested by them!
The biography of Trina begins on page 5, but it took me all weekend
to get to it. You see, on page 3 of this magazine is an advertisement for
ÒDocÕs Bar & Grill.Ó This establishment bills itself as ÒWhere the Best
Come to Undress.Ó And, above their motto, is a photograph. ItÕs of a
young, beautiful blonde with gorgeous breasts. SheÕs not wearing a bra.
As I sat rubbing myself, staring at her nipples, the whole weekend went
by. I know it was wrong for me to masturbate over her, and to dream of
having sex with her, especially since she looks like sheÕs just 17. And
this gets me to wondering: who is the Ôsource viewerÕ that the Hatch Act
empowers to be the arbiter of photos? Does this category include 13-
year-old boys? Does it include 36-year-old perverts? Or do you have to
be a yuppie feminist to qualify as a source viewer? I confess, sometimes
when I look at images of Hillary on ABC News, I think, ÔMan, sheÕs not bad.
If she were 13 IÕd pull down her panties and fuck her!Õ
How about guys on a ship, or in prison? Do they qualify? They
probably see a Sears catalogue and get hard. Some men have even been
known to get sexually excited over womenÕs clothing. Well, how about
little girls clothing? Should we ban photos of girlsÕ tops and bottoms and
tees?
Also in this issue is an article on Adolf Hitler, plus an article titled
ÒKiss the winter blues away.Ó Unfortunately I couldnÕt find the article on
kissing, only the article on Hitler.
The cover of this issue features a girl who decided to buy her dress
at Holy JoeÕs Emporium for Girls. Now, let me assure you, she got a nice
dress. It is a little short in back, however. When she complained to me
that her bottom was sticking out, I gave her a spanking. Soon afterward
her big sister came to pick her up. You can see a photo of my customer
sitting behind her sister on their moped. SheÕs still wincing from her
spanking but sheÕs also blowing me a kiss, because she appreciates my
knowledge of fashion and my willingness to impart it to her, even against
her will. (Girls like a man who takes charge.) Sure, her ride home
probably was a little chilly, but IÕll bet she had plenty of dates this
weekend!
Blue car.
Blue car
fades into the foggy summer night.
Through the fog
thereÕs a street light.
Another stranger passes into the night.
Down in the valley
at the bottom of the city,
below the radio waves,
the night moves
in silent sad swirls.
At the bottom of the city
itÕs silent and still,
almost dawn.
Light seeps from behind the trees
a pale sky, like your eyes.
White bird flying,
sundownÕs edging in.
Scarlet sun throbbing.
In another country
it might be different.
I hear the sounds
of birds in the trees
and you are so close
soft, like butter . . .
I look into your eyes
in the morning light.
Walking on dew-covered grass.
Above us, the clouds churn white
feels like weÕre in some other century.
Sitting on a red clay bank
in the shimmering, blazing sun.
You came from behind,
after watching me for a while,
then sat with me in the hot dry air.
The moon is covered
by grey swirls of clouds,
as I walk the street at midnight
I notice a storm is brewing.
- from Will DockeryÕs sold out zine, Teri Baal, a 16 page chapbook which
you will never get to read unless his perverted, nerdy friend quits
masturbating long enough to type it onto the Internet.
AND IN THE END...
LISTEN UP, EXON!
ÒI highly suggest that you really need more up close pussy shots. If you
donÕt then your site will end up the suckiest damn site on the whole
fuckinÕ net.Ó
- Anonymous VanDrei Family Member (Exotic Magazine, March 1997, pg.
13.
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-END OF 218 EMISSION