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ÒWhere are all the sexually adventurous literary heroines?Ó
- Charlie Rose (on Charlie Rose, March 18, 1998).
(right here, Charlie! - h.j.)
Andrew Roller Presents
FUCK DECENCY
Hamilton? Sturges?
http://www.amazon.com
Issue No. 357
Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in
Dungeon of Desire
Chapter Five
I slipped from the bed. SauronÕs bed. My master. I went to the
bathroom and peed. Sitting there, wiping myself, I decided to leave. It
would be the perfect crime, in a way, trapping my lover inside SauronÕs
house, leaving both him and Sauron to each otherÕs company.
I wanted to go home. I saw no way to extricate myself short of just
walking out, as my master slept in his bed. When he awoke, I would be
given new chores. I longed no longer to do them. I wanted to regain a
sense of myself again. A beach brat, playing, teasing. I didnÕt wish for
domination anymore.
Creeping down the hall to the guest bedroom, I found my clothes
there. I wished IÕd worn a bra now, but the t-shirt would have to do. I
slipped it on. I wanted a shower but I couldnÕt risk waiting. Once Sauron
woke, I would be his again. I slipped on my shorts. I felt messy. I looked
in the mirror and tried to fluff out my hair and then, feeling the skin
crawl on my back, I imagined I saw Sauron in the doorway, his penis huge,
wanting to possess me again.
I bolted for the front door. I looked about once, my hand firmly on
the handle. Then I twisted it. It opened. Perhaps it had been locked
before, but now it was open. Sauron, with me asleep in his bed, well-
fucked, might have gone outside a moment, to study the stars and revel in
his victories. But heÕd left the door unlocked behind him. Unlockable,
rather, from the inside. I was a prisoner no more.
I dashed into the street. I could not think of what to do. A car came
along, kids my age. They stopped.
ÒYou look... fucked up,Ó a boy mused from a side window. He admired
me openly. In my thin t-shirt, my nipples clearly showing, my legs bare
and my shorts quite short, I was hardly a chador-wearing muslim girl. But
my hair was wrecked and my makeup had been ruined from all my crying
and kissing.
A girl in the back of the car opened the door. ÒYou can get in if you
like,Ó she said to me, a little in awe of me, I think. ÒARE you fucked up?Ó
she asked.
ÒNo,Ó I smiled, slipping into the car, glad to be out of the hot
morning sun. ÒJust fucked.Ó She giggled.
We sped away into the dawn of a new day.
Epilogue
Please donÕt condemn me for how I make my living. If youÕre a
woman, donÕt feel sorry for me. DonÕt make up reasons why I should not do
this. I canÕt say I like it, but itÕs a living, and it beats most of the careers
IÕve seen professional yuppie women take up. Their schedules, their
conflicts, their false egotistical way of presenting themselves to the
world. IÕve observed them, and I donÕt want to be like them. Not now. Not
while IÕm still young. I want to stay free. I donÕt want to have wrinkles,
at least not prematurely. I just want to be me. But I do need money, and
hardworking men need a little fun now and then. So I do what I do. And
they pay me very handsomely for it.
ThatÕs a must with me: being paid well. If you canÕt pony up the
money I canÕt drop my dress. I tell them that sometimes, and they know I
mean it.
I work discreetly. Not out on the street like common, run-of-the-
mill girls. I work in executive suits or private apartments, the
apartments successful men keep when they want to have fun away from
their wives.
I drive I nice car. ItÕs red and I have to be careful where I park it so
it wonÕt get broken into. Also, I like to park as close as I can to my
assignments. Today I went to one of them.
It was bright and sunny outside. I parked my Chevy Blazer in an
underground garage after working hours, downtown, where all the best
assignments are. ItÕs a small garage, under a bookstore, although IÕve
never been in it. I just use their lot.
I stepped down out of my Blazer. I wore a skin-tight blouse, white,
just as my client instructed. I could feel my bosoms bounce as my heel hit
the pavement but my client had specifically forbidden me to wear a bra.
In the corner of the lot, just pulling in behind me (no doubt to buy
books) I saw a nerd emerge from his car. He wore glasses and had
uncombed hair and I knew instantly he had seen me. I could almost feel
him drool as I turned and walked briskly up the ramp to the alley that ran
behind the garage. I had long bare legs and I reached behind myself to
check that my miniskirt wasnÕt bunched from my sitting on it. I tugged on
the hem where the dress fell to cover my bottom, checking it and
smoothing it a little. Even the softest breeze would lift my skirt and
show my panties. I didnÕt want to have any creases that might make me
worse off than I was.
I walked briskly. I could feel the nerdÕs eyes on me and, although it
was warm and still afternoon, I knew a girl with mile-long legs in a short
skirt (not to mention no bra) was a sought after spectacle. Above me tall
glass towers loomed, with late-leaving workers in them perhaps, peering
down. Along the alley might come other pedestrians, delighted to see me,
stopping to stare as I passed, hoping the wind might catch my skirt and
reveal me.
My client, I think, watched me as I approached. He was waiting
upstairs to paddle me. Did he see me check my skirt to see that it covered
my ass? Probably. He savored my uncertainty in these moments. He told
me that soon the building next to the bookstore would be renovated and
construction workers would be laboring there.
But not today. I crossed the alley and followed it down to its far end
and stepped into the lobby of his apartment complex. I caught an elevator
upstairs. I walked down the hall to his door and knocked.
ÒCome in,Ó a voice said. It was unfamiliar. I entered anyway. This
was one of my regular appointments. I visited every week for my
spanking.
ÒOh, who are you?Ó I asked when my eyes met the person whoÕd
pulled back the door.
ÒIÕm Shantila. Are you surprised that IÕm a woman?Ó she asked. She
had dark black hair and pale white skin and wore a red jacket and red
matching red dress and black hose.
ÒWell, yes,Ó I said.
ÒDonÕt worry. IÕll give you the same paddling you always get,Ó she
replied. ÒAnd pay you the same, of course. JohnsonÕs away this week. An
emergency. But he didnÕt want you to go without your weekly spanking.Ó
I put a hand to my throat. ÒHow considerate,Ó was all I could say.
My voice felt weak in my throat.
ÒDo you always get right to business?Ó she asked.
ÒYes,Ó I answered. ÒMy MasterÕs time is very valuable.Ó Johnson
wasnÕt my master, of course. Nobody was, now. Now that IÕd learned and
been properly trained at SauronÕs. I belonged to myself. But Johnson
delighted in hearing me call him ÔMaster.Õ All my clients did. So I obliged
every one of them.
Shantila took my hand. It was limp but hers was certain in its grip.
She led me over to the desk where I always received my paddling. It was a
big desk, wooden. It had a polished surface and there was always a little
cushiony pillow waiting for me there, for me to rest my tummy on.
ÒPlease drop your dress and your panties and bend over,Ó Shantila
told me. I unzipped myself in back, just like I did every week. I was in
private now. I could show my panties without getting arrested.
Shantila emitted a little sigh as she saw my undies. My dress fell to
my ankles and I stepped gracefully out of it. I bent over and picked it up.
My panties molded my beautiful ass, leaving the top halves of my cheeks
exposed. They were sheer and had little pink bows on the sides.
ÒMy, what a gorgeous ass!Ó Shantila commented as I laid my dress
neatly on the corner of the desk.
ÒThank you,Ó I said. I reached for the ribbons of my panties.
ÒYou wear such lovely underwear,Ó Shantila said happily.
ÒJohnson, I mean Master, likes it too,Ó I replied. I slipped the ties of
my drawstrings. ÒBut he makes me take them off so they wonÕt get
damaged.Ó
ÒYes. We must do it just like always,Ó Shantila agreed. ÒHe uses a
paddle on you?Ó
ÒUmhmmm,Ó I replied, letting my panties drop seductively down my
legs. I could just draw them off my hips but Johnson always liked seeing
them slide down my thighs. And, I think, he liked seeing me have to bend
over to pick them up off the floor.
Shantila went to a dresser and opened it. ÒWhich one?Ó she asked,
looking into the top drawer. I picked up my panties and laid them on top of
my dress.
ÒThe biggest one,Ó I replied. ÒThe one with the holes in it so it will
fly faster through the air.Ó
ÒOh, you mean this one,Ó Shantila said. I glanced back over my
shoulder. She drew a large, thin wooden paddle out of the drawer. It was
raw wood. It had holes in it. I shivered.
ÒYes, thatÕs the one. It swings quite fast,Ó I said in a trembly voice.
I touched my hands to my cheeks. They were so white and soft-sleeping
now, but soon theyÕd be burning.
ÒBend over, please,Ó Shantila said in a business-like voice.
I fitted the pillow cushion securely against my tummy and then bent
forward and lay myself across JohnsonÕs desk. Shantila didnÕt have to tell
me to spread my legs. I knew I was required to show my cunny as best I
could and my asshole. I planted my feet a good two yards apart and lay my
fists by my face. I bit my lip.
ÒDoes he gag you? Does he restrain you in any way?Ó Shantila asked
me.
I sighed and tried not to think of the big paddle she was holding in
her hands. ÒIt depends on how much time he has and how good I was last
time,Ó I replied truthfully. I let a little shiver run down my spine as I
worried at her next question.
ÒWere you good last time?Ó she asked.
I held my breath. I didnÕt want to answer. ÒNo,Ó I replied.
She tossed her hair back, contemplated me. ÒWhat did you do?Ó she
asked firmly. She enjoyed my submissiveness.
ÒI- He-Ó
ÒYes?Ó
ÒHe hit me very hard and I couldnÕt keep from screaming. And I
grabbed my bottom to save it,Ó I said.
ÒTsk! Then youÕll need to be restrained and gagged,Ó Shantila
replied...
BOOK REVIEW
by holy joe
The Age of Innocence, by David Hamilton, $31.50. (Retail: $45.00) Large-
sized Art book with many black-and-white photos, and some color photos.
Many pages. Web: http://amazon.com or http://barnesandnoble.com
Review: Well, my David Hamilton book showed up today: The Age of
Innocence! Actually, for the record, it showed up awhile ago, but I was too
busy viewing it to review it. If you know what I mean.
One thing IÕve got to say for Amazon.com, they have very fast
shipping! IÕve ordered many, many books from the Barnes and Noble
catalogs over the years. They take WEEKS to arrive. IÕve ordered two
books from Amazon.com, over a space of about a year. Each book arrived
VERY fast, using only standard shipping. The book practically arrives
before you turn off your computer to go get it.
Shortly after my book arrived, I heard a knock at the door. It was
loud, insistent. Then a megaphone outside my door announced: ÒOpen up,
Joe! This is the F.B.I. We know youÕre in there! YouÕve got naked girls in
there. UNDER AGE naked girls. In a book!Ó
Fortunately, I was ready for them. Using my handy Pentium
processor, IÕd built myself a Dimensional Zapper. I opened my door.
ÒHave a nice day,Ó I told the agents. (Clever, eh?) Then, I zapped
them to another dimension.
What is the other dimension like? ItÕs a place where itÕs strictly
illegal to be an adult-loving heterosexual. By now, those pesky F.B.I.
agents are probably in a California prison, for life, being tortured and
killed by sadistic prison guards. Or, worse, they could be in a Washington
State sexual offender ÔtreatmentÕ facility.
Despite their sufferings, at least those F.B.I. agents can take
satisfaction from the fact that, even if things donÕt seem Just to them in
the other dimension, everything here on our earth is quite Just. Right? As
our own Supreme Court Justice Antonin Scalia has himself said: ÒThe
system is really garbage in, garbage out.Ó (Time, March 23, 1998, pg. 33.)
With the F.B.I. safely out of the way, I proceeded to the grand
opening. (Er... perhaps I should put that another way.) I got a knife and
sliced open the box. Inside, guess what? The book was EXTREMELY well
wrapped. It was shrink-wrapped (presumably by the publisher) in plastic.
Then, it was loaded into an Amazon.com box and re-shrinkwrapped, with
very, very thick plastic. An explosion by an incoming asteroid couldnÕt
have jostled that book. What a difference from Barnes and Noble! They
arenÕt nearly as good at wrapping their books as Amazon.com. I have
ordered tons of books in my lifetime, from publishers, Book-of-the-Month
club, etc. NO book has ever arrived as well-wrapped as this book from
Amazon.com.
Finally, with the book out of the box, I opened it.
Huh?
WhatÕs all the fuss about? This is a collection of photos, some in
color, many in black-and-white. Unlike A Place in the Sun, these arenÕt
photos of girls having fun. These are very staid, posed, ÔstudioÕ shots.
They look like the sort of photos a mother might take to memorialize her
daughter. Nearly all the photos have been carefully cropped so that
nothing shows on the girl below her belly-button. Not only is there no
Ôlascivious exhibitionÕ of the genitals, there is no genitals!
Photographer David Hamilton has been quoted as saying the photos
are Òerotic.Ó If so, Hamilton is the most Victorian erotic photographer
IÕve ever seen. Queen Victoria herself could sit and look at this book and
find nothing improper about it.
A lawyer would hesitate to say how the U.S. Supreme Court would
rule on ÔThe Age of InnocenceÕ. But IÕm not a lawyer. So I can tell you
exactly how they would rule: ÒDavid HamiltonÕs The Age of Innocence is
not child pornography.Ó Period. In fact, if you want my opinion of the
book, itÕs boring.
If you like girls, this is a nice book to have, and a breath of fresh air
for America. As for those who have suggested this book be banned, like
TIMEÕs Bruce Handy, I have some positive, constructive advice: ÒPlease,
you need a psychiatrist.Ó
Randall Terry and the Christian Perdition have probably raised a lot
of mony from their constituents, most of whom have probably never seen
this book. But they donÕt have a leg to stand on.
A SOCIAL GATHERING
by Cuyler Brown
Even though I was oatmeal
they chewed me very carefully
slow and with precision
they used their tongue
to pick my grains
from in
between their teeth.
AND IN THE END...
AMERICA: Land of the Free?
ÒThe new movie version of Lolita is at this moment playing
without any particular controversy in Moscow. ...[But it] has yet to find
a theatrical distributor in the U.S.Ó
- TIME, March 23, 1998, pg. 91.
-------------------------- Fuck Decency! ------------------------
-Back issues (and stories): type
http://www.dejanews.com/
into your browserÕs ÒLocationÓ window. Press your ÒreturnÓ key.
Click on ÒPower SearchÓ in the middle of the screen. Next,
Type in: roller39@idt.net in the box that appears.
Click on ÒfindÓ (the button to the right of the box).
-Or search using: roller666@earthlink.net
-Other providers:
Usenet Newsgroup: alt.sex.stories.moderated
or by e-mail: file.request@backdrop.com
or via the Web: http://www.netusa.net/~eli/erotica/assm/
-When visiting Barnes and Noble, ask for: Jock SturgesÕ Radiant
Identities and David HamiltonÕs The Age of Innocence. Support art!
- JOIN the worldÕs greatest organization! Send $35.00 to The North
American Man/Boy Love Association for a one-year membership.
NAMBLA, P.O. Box 174, Midtown Station, New York, NY 10018.
-Naughty Naked Dreamgirls (Library of Congress ISSN: 1070-1427) is
copyright 1998 and a trademark of Andrew Roller. Work by others
copyright 1998 by the respective copyright holder.
-END OF 357 EMISSION
ÒIt is a punishment sufficient unto his sins that his dark passion
should bring him to this: an odyssey through trailer-park America,
with an emotionally messy teenager beside him, masticating a jaw-
breaker while the radio blares, ÒBongo, bongo bongo, I donÕt want to
leave the Congo.Ó
- TIME, March 23, 1998, pg. 91, on Lolita.
(please, punish me! - h.j.)