Andrew Roller Presents
FUCK DECENCY
Issue No. 224
Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in
Private Places
Chapter Seven
We ate our breakfast quietly, not saying anything, not eating, really,
just nibbling a little. I began to feel tipsy from the champagne. Jill
giggled, let Max refill her glass and drank it down to the dregs. ÒI canÕt
believe IÕm actually letting someone give me a bigger bottom,Ó she said
aloud.
ÒJust the hole,Ó Max answered. ÒIÕve no interest in making your
pretty little ass lose its shape. Just in getting myself up you more
easily.Ó He glanced at me. ÒYouÕre lucky, to be doing it so young,Ó he told
me. ÒMen will prize you for your ease of use in the coming years.Ó I
shivered. I knew men prized both tightness and ease, preferring to open a
girl themselves if they might. Should I wait. I still loved Sam. He wanted
me bigger. I must obey, mustnÕt I, if I truly loved him? And I admired Max.
His ruthlessness, his refusal to be bargained with, try as Jill and I might
sometimes, begging him out by the pool under the stars, praying to him to
let us go, spinning wiles wherein he might be our slavemaster for life, if
only heÕd spare us and take us away from here, though I knew in my heart
weÕd escape him if he should fall for our tricks. Girls do not like a man
who does what they tell him. Not in these circumstances. Because they
know they would never go through with it, except for his iron will.
Max let us into the dungeon. Apprehensively, knowing the condition
weÕd be in when we departed it, we descended the stairs, all shivery and
anxious, wishing Max would relent at last and take us away from here.
Implacably he followed us. We alighted lightly onto the carpet, afraid to
let our toes touch it. Max placed a broad, warm palm on each of our
bottoms and urged me to open the gate. I could not. Jill reached out at
last and lifted the latch, a simple thing, yet I hadnÕt been able to, my
hands shook so. Max pushed us inside. He took a martinet down from the
wall. It was stiff. It would leave a mark just by touching us.
ÒI canÕt!Ó I cried suddenly. Jill seized me. I thought she would force
me forward but instead she sought solace in my frail body by pressing her
own against it.
Suddenly I heard a tromping on the floor upstairs. MaxÕs head darted
upward, mine, JillÕs. Heavy footsteps, businesslike, uncompromising as
Max himself.
ÒGet down, hide someplace!Ó Max hissed. Obediently Jill and I
scampered behind the nearest machine, some hideous device of execution,
and ducked down. There was a pounding at the cellar door, and, moments
later, it came crashing down the stairs, its hinges and lock broken. Max,
defenseless but for the martinet, strode over to the base of the steps. A
gunshot rang out and he and his glorious erection fell in a heap to the
floor. Jill and I screamed. I screamed louder when I saw the figure
coming down the stairs. It was my father!
ÒDaddy!Ó I shrieked. I did not rise from behind the machine. Instead
I found myself gripping Jill, my nails digging painfully into her shoulder.
That he should find me here, bare-ass naked, having run away from home!
He would not believe my excuses. He was not that kind of man. Indulgent,
maybe, but not to a fault like some dads.
Blushing and crying, squeezing my bottomcheeks guiltily, I was
extracted by my father from behind the execution/sex machine. He glared
at me, then softened his features a little as he pulled out Jill along with
me.
ÒYour mother has been looking for you!Ó my father snapped at me.
ÒI-I was kidnapped,Ó I said, all teary-eyed and blushing right down
to my toes. Other men trod down the steps now, wearing police badges. I
was in my birthday suit but my hair was all pretty and combed and my
face was made up with makeup. My nails, including my toenails, were
painted to perfection. There was a hint of rouge on my wiggly nipples.
Jill, yanked up beside me, had ribbons in her hair.
ÒI heard you got married,Ó my father told me. His voice was stern.
He gave my fanny a hard, uncompromising slap, making me shriek and
clutch my bottom right there, in front of all those policemen. He did not
strike Jill, just me, making tears of shame come to my eyes. ÒGet
upstairs and put on your panties,Ó he told me. ÒThen I want you outside in
the car, pronto!Ó
I ran up the steps. The policemen made way for me. I was small and
light, my legs flashing, my slim-hipped bottom jiggling and my newly
grown tennis ball titties bouncing on my chest. Jill followed, her bigger,
heavier, womanÕs boobs jostling like over-ripe fruit, her mature bottom
alarming the menÕs desire as she ran with it shaking heedlessly, all scared
and embarrassed as I was.
Upstairs we found bikini bottoms, but no tops. I guess Max had
assumed we wouldnÕt need clothes anymore, just panties, perhaps, to
cover us when we at last were freed. He did not contemplate us being
freed by my father. Quickly we slipped into the swim panties and then
fetched towels from the bathroom. Blushingly we came downstairs again
and were escorted by my father to his car.
Huddling in the back seat, I thanked my father silently in my heart
for saving me from my foolishness. Jill and I were both drunk, and had
come so close to having our bottomholes permanently popped that I didnÕt
even want to think about it. She was dropped off at her condo. My father
went upstairs and fetched the things IÕd bought for myself in the
meantime. I waited downstairs in the car. I did not try to get out or run
away. He returned shortly. He drove me back home. My mother greeted me
at the door. We did not kiss or hug or say hello. I went upstairs to my
room. My teddy bear was waiting for me. My father spoke briefly with my
mother, then marched upstairs.
ÒTake off your panties,Ó he told me. He held his trouser belt in his
hands.
ÒBut,Ó I protested. I had dropped my towel on the bed to hug my
teddy.
ÒGet them off, this minute, young lady!Ó he did not call me by name.
Weepily I put down my teddybear. I shrugged my bare shoulders, lifting my
hands, my arms thin, awkward. Slipping my hands into my panties I drew
them down quickly. I bent over as I slid down my panties, wondering if my
dad would like seeing my seat. Did he know how close it had come to being
made receptive, like a womanÕs bottom? Lightly, but with grave
misgivings, my fanny flexing with fright, I stepped out of my panties. I
lifted them up and dropped them onto my bed. My father stood behind me,
admiring my cherub bottom.
ÒGod, you look just like your mother!Ó he said. I flinched. Like her?
She was 45, wrinkled, and flabby. I turned. My father stood stroking his
belt but I wondered if he would rather have been stroking himself instead.
His trousers bulged. ÒGet up on the bed,Ó he told me. ÒKneel on it and
stick your bottom out. Let it overhang the edge. Did your husband teach
you to do this? HeÕs in prison now, where he belongs, the pervert!Ó
I gasped. Sam, in prison? No! How could it be so. Feeling
disconsolate within my fear, I knelt on my bed.
ÒOffer your bottom more,Ó my father told me. ÒDip your back. If you
fancy yourself a married woman, IÕll make you present like one.Ó Guiltily I
let my chin drop a little. I put a bow into my back, making my hind cheeks
stand out more. They were trim and firm and I wiggled them
apprehensively. My father had never seen me like this before. Did he
admire my tits? They hung full and well-fleshed beneath me, proud
titties, ones a girl might show off at the beach. My cunny offered itself to
him, but I guessed he tried his best to keep his eyes on my ass.
And then my father, who had never in his life laid a hand on me,
asked me a very strange question. His throat sounded constricted as he
spoke. ÒHow hard do you want it?Ó he asked me.
ÒNot too hard,Ó I answered, feeling a quivering in my voice as I
spoke. My nipples felt like thorns on my breasts. I feared they might tear
the quilted bedcover as I let them graze their weight across it. ÒBut hard
enough,Ó I replied.
ÒYou were a very bad girl, running away from me,Ó he said. He did
not mention my mother. ÒI almost got killed rescuing you.Ó
ÒI know, I know,Ó I wept.
And then he struck. I started, feeling the sting, my eyes widening.
It burned across my bottomflesh, searing me, making me remember. I had
been so bad, to run away from him, to live with a drug dealer, to marry
Sam without his knowledge or permission. And I had spoilt the family
name, too, letting myself be recorded on film for all time, embarrassing
my mom and dad in ways no one could ever erase.
ÒAgain?Ó he asked me. I recovered my balance, dipped my back again
and lofted my bottom high for him.
ÒPlease, and donÕt stop until IÕve learned my lesson,Ó I said with
utmost certainty, wanting to be punished now, wanting to be made to
behave. I promised myself IÕd even wear my one-piece from now on, until
my mother permitted me to have a bikini.
My father hit me again. It was a practised stroke, I realized later,
and knew somebody must have let him use her own body to train him. I did
not admit to myself who that was, though she stood downstairs, listening
to my cries, weeping, no doubt, for it meant IÕd passed through childhood
and was a teen now, being spanked for the first and last time by my
father, who would never dare to order me out of my panties again, no
matter what I did, for I was too big now for him to discipline like this. My
bosoms shook and my hiney bunched and churned. I rocked on the bed as
stripe after stripe was laid on my bottom. The bed creaked knowingly, I
tried to restrain my cries but shouted lustily at last, unable to control
myself, wanting even to pee I was so nervous and drunk and excited. At
last my father threw down his belt and left me kneeling up on my bed,
slamming my bedroom door behind myself as he stalked out.
I eased myself down onto the bedcover and lay there holding my
bottom tight. He had really given it too me, but had saved me from a
worse fate still, at the hands of Mistress Lalique. I prayed he did not
know IÕd tattooed the inside of my cunny with her initial. Oh, IÕd been so
bad! I deserved so much more from him, but he was gone now. I lay in my
bad for a long time, not daring to move. I did not hear my mother and
father downstairs. They had to be in their bedroom, my innermost mind
told me. My father would not have been able to Ôkeep his council,Õ as it
were, after seeing my nakedness. He would need relief. I did not let my
mind delve further.
When morning came my mother said we must go into town to buy me
a proper swimsuit. I thought she meant a one-piece, but found to my
delight that she insisted I buy and wear bikinis from now on. ÒYou must
begin dating too, dear,Ó she told me on the way home. ÒI was wrong to
keep you cooped up for so long.Ó She did not say more. That afternoon,
feeling liberated and free, I roamed the beach in my bikini, not looking for
boys exactly, but not necessarily avoiding them either. The house where
my long-lost drug dealer boyfriend had once lived was empty now, with a
ÔFor RentÕ sign on it. Did my father know of my relations with him? I did
not know. There was so much I did not know, and I hoped there was much
he did not know either. Or my mother, especially.
I played in the waves along the beach and wondered about the future.
I let boys proposition me but turned them away at last, leaving them
disappointed, skipping back home as the sun disappeared and not minding
it, not minding it at all. Dinner was waiting for me when I got home. My
parents had gone out. I ate alone, for the first time without a babysitter
to bug me, or my parents themselves lording over the dinnertable, asking
about my homework, telling me what to do. My mother, especially.
Later that evening Jill called. She apologized, I told her there was
no need for her to. IÕd loved being with her. She told me Sam was back
home. I spoke with him briefly. He sounded as great as ever, but I didnÕt
want to go back to him, not after what heÕd almost put us through in the
dungeon. Jill told me to thank my father for rescuing us. I assured her I
would. I knew heÕd secretly enjoy hearing that she admired him, though of
course heÕd never admit it.
When it was truly dark out, the moon gone, and my parents home and
asleep in their bed, I went out again. I sat on the beach and played in the
sand, covering my feet with it, wondering at all IÕd been through.
A shadow appeared beside me. It was darker even than the night
itself. ÒCome with me,Ó a familiar voice said. I looked up. It was Him!
My first boyfriend, a man actually, Lord Shaftsbury. Barbi stood beside
him. She held him, wearing just her bikini, though he was cloaked in black
robes. I looked closer and saw she did not have a top on. Her breasts hung
free, but there were small gold rings in her nipples. I shivered.
ÒI canÕt,Ó I answered. I did not tell him IÕd tattooed the inside of my
pussy, the pussy heÕd opened for me to make me grow up. I gulped.
ÒPromise you wonÕt hurt me or my family...Ó I said.
ÒWhy?Ó he asked.
ÒThereÕs something I must tell you,Ó I said.
ÒWhat?Ó
ÒPromise first,Ó I insisted.
ÒYou were always a brat,Ó he said, and added, ÒI promise.Ó
ÒMy fatherÕs trying to kill you,Ó I said. ÒHeÕs hunting for you. You
must go far away. DonÕt come back. DonÕt go near him. Because I know if
you two meet only one will live, and I want you both to be alive always,
even if I canÕt run away with you again.Ó
ÒThanks for telling me,Ó he replied.
ÒYou promised!Ó I shouted.
ÒIÕll do my best,Ó he answered. ÒDo you want to come away with
me? I have money again. We could be happy together.Ó
ÒNo. You have Barbi,Ó I answered simply. I did not intend playing
second fiddle, much as I liked it in the past. I wanted to be first now,
first and forever loved...by somebody...
He shrugged. In the end I was just a girl to him. He had no shortage
of girls.
I rose up from the sand. I wiped my hands on my legs. Without
saying a word, I undid my panties. I passed them to Barbi and she took
them wordlessly. ÒDo one thing for me,Ó I told my ex-boyfriend.
ÒSure,Ó Lord Shaftsbury answered, and made to unzip himself.
ÒNot that, silly,Ó I said. I stopped his hand in mid-zip. Carefully I
zipped him back up. ÒI want you to tattoo me.Ó
Gaunt.
Drove all the way out there
in the frosty dawn,
Smith Station looked like
a cowboy town.
A series of stone buildings
standing in front of
those long railroad tracks
headed west.
The sun was stabbing over one hill
long stabs of golden light
cutting into clouds.
One thing I can remember
is the frost.
And the icy blue skyline,
black trees way off
sort of forming letter shapes.
When I go out that way
I keep my eyes open,
for a glimpse of that place
one more time.
It never seems to look that way
or something,
Maybe IÕm not looking in the right
place, I need to find the old
railroad depot...
and in these last few years
I have not had the time.
We had come out there to see you,
and we found you,
in all your few halting words.
The meeting with you is the least
the trip out and back
was more important it seems now.
So IÕm here now and where are you,
and all of the others,
some of the others like you?
I see some and then I never see others
think I saw you going the other way,
on a local interstate highway...
It would be nice to look some of you up,
but we might as well give
that sort of thing a few more years.
So I will hold our last meeting
like a snapshot, in my mind.
Crumbling and gaunt with age.
AND IN THE END...
JUDGEMENT DAY FOR THE CDA
ÒThis democratizing, global medium is being censored by the very country
that is supposed to be a beacon of freedom.Ó
- Christopher A. Hansen, attorney, on the Internet, at the Supreme Court.
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-END OF 224 EMISSION