Andrew Roller Presents
FUCK DECENCY
Issue No. 57
Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in
Desire Isle
Chapter Four
A bit later, after Martin had come, with much loud exclamations of
pleasure, Melanie straightened her back for the final time and dropped her
hand. It hurt too much for her to continue. She panted. Gwendolyn's
bottom was a sea of red, on an otherwise flawlessly white body.
Gwendolyn erected her back. She looked over her shoulder at Melanie. The
18-year-old gasped, eyes meeting her own, saying nothing.
"You do better with your hand than Kimberly does with her crop, I
think," Gwendolyn said. Melanie sat back on her heels, her own bottom
sinking safely beneath the bubbled waters. Her white breasts jutted
forth, tipped by strawberry nipples.
"I babysit little kids sometimes," Melanie said. "Sometimes they
have to be spanked." Gwendolyn tittered.
"Little boys, you mean? You drop their pants and give them a
whaling?" the woman asked.
"And little girls too, if they're naughty," Melanie said. "If their
parents give permission. I'm not a sitter much anymore, though. I got a
job at McDonald's."
"McDonald's?" Gwendolyn threw back her hair and laughed as hard as
any sophisticated woman possibly could. "McDonald's?" She looked over at
Melanie through eyes slitted by humor. Melanie began to blush.
"There are much better ways you could serve society than by giving
them hamburgers," Gwendolyn said, recovering her composure. Melanie
became aware of the jutting of her breasts. Too late! Gwendolyn's
mittened hands, still dry, came to her titties. She cupped them firmly but
gently, as if handling rare hothouse fruit. "Look at these, just look at
yourself for once!" Gwendolyn exclaimed. With tentative eyes, more to
guard her tits than obey Gwen, Melanie looked down at her mammaries.
"You are an extraordinarily beautiful girl," Gwendolyn said. "That's one of
the reasons I whipped you, I confess, I was jealous of your beauty."
"You?" Melanie looked up at the woman with wide eyes. "You're the
one who's beautiful, even if I do hate you."
"Nonsense, darling," Gwendolyn said. "I'm simply older. Pretty, yes,
even very pretty, but you're another notch above me. Even Kimberly can't
quite compare with you, and I think she knows it."
"Well, I'm not going to defend stupid Kimberly's looks, though she is
very popular at school," Melanie said. Then, thoughtfully, "too popular. But
you are the most gorgeous of all."
"Be my pupil," Gwendolyn urged. Her eyes were bright, fierce. "I
want you more than any girl I've ever trained, and I've trained many that
men would have killed for."
"What-what do you want of me?" Melanie asked, overcome with
curiosity. Never in her life had she found herself in such a situation.
"I want to do with you what it is my job to do," Gwendolyn said.
"Train females in the art of love. Some are ex-wives who come to me,
hoping for a man, some are wives, sent by their husbands for lessons,
some are college girls, hoping to go a-whoring, some, like you, are young
girls who are captured or just wander into my life."
"I-I don't want to be trained in-" and here her voice caught in her
throat-"in the art of love," Melanie protested.
"Of course you do!" Gwendolyn hissed. "All girls do! They are rolled
over and spanked by their brothers at age 10 and they love it. At 12, or
13, they are giving blow jobs, surrendering their virginity. At 16 they are
succumbing to the football team captain in the back seat of his car. At 18
they are partying at college, in the frat house, amidst leering boys who
they know will rape them."
"And then?" Melanie asked, caught up in the story, much of it a
reprise of her own life.
"And then," Gwendolyn took on a faraway look. "And then some go for
an "M-r-s." degree, others try careers. Too many wind up with wrinkles
and glass ceilings and failed marriages and thoughtless children. I didn't
want that to happen to me. I decided to play for the rest of my life. As a
mistress, a madam."
"A very fucking expensive madam," Martin, who had seated himself
on the furred lid of the toilet, piped up.
"You must pay for the best if you expect to get it, darling,"
Gwendolyn said over her slim shoulder, not quite meeting his eyes. She
looked marvelously demure, despite her dishabille, even to Melanie.
"I'm afraid," Melanie said. Gwendolyn turned back to her. "A-afraid
of being called a whore! And of being whipped."
"You were whipped last night, are you not better now?" Gwendolyn
asked. As if for emphasis her right hand slithered down Melanie's wet
side, but did not touch her bottom after all. It rested on the flare of her
hip.
"Yes, I'm better now, but it hurt very much last night," Melanie said.
"Do you plan to have children one day?" Gwendolyn asked frankly.
"Of course," Melanie said.
"And will it not hurt, and hurt extremely at the time, to give birth to
a baby?" Gwendolyn asked.
"So I've heard," Melanie said.
"Yet you plan to have children all the same, don't you?" Gwendolyn
asked.
"Yes, I do," Melanie said.
"And when you lost your virginity, you'd been told that would hurt
too, weren't you?" Gwendolyn asked, pressing her point.
"Yes," Melanie admitted.
"But you weathered in anyway, for the pleasure it would bring you
afterward," Gwendolyn summed up.
"Well, it wasn't enjoyable at all the first time, or the second either,"
Melanie protested.
"But last night you rode David like a horse, didn't you?" Gwendolyn
smiled.
"Mmm, yes," Melanie admitted.
"And the cropping? Did not it make your bulb glow, after a while,
glow with inner warmth?" Gwendolyn asked.
"Yes, but it still hurt too," Melanie said. Absently her hand went to
her bottom and rubbed her cheeks. Her nether cheeks. Eventually her
bottom had felt delicious, exuding a heat she had never felt before. And
she had felt delightful when she rubbed it on the satin satin sheets of her
bed too.
"And when you heard the other woman being beaten in the sauna,
with your own so recently punished bottom so close to the crop, did that
not drive you to a fever pitch of excitement, giving you more orgasms than
you'd ever dreamed?" Gwendolyn asked. Melanie felt very naughty talking
about orgasms, but she silently nodded her head. "So, you see," Gwendolyn
replied, artfully sliding a mittened palm back to cup a cheek of Melanie's
bottom. "Everything in life has its place, both pain and pleasure, and
sometimes, in the best of circumstances, they are combined; in childbirth,
in the loss of one's virginity, and in sexual games. You must let me teach
you, at least for a few days!"
"Nooo," Melanie said, but felt herself falling under the power of the
lovely Amazon even as she spoke. How she wanted to be like Gwendolyn!
Svelte, lovely, yet bold and powerful, master of her own pleasure, and
getting paid for it to boot! Melanie thought of the long hours she had put
in already at McDonald's. Sweat, smelly odors, being treated rudely, all
for a few measly dollars that could buy her little more than the gas to go
back the next day and work again. Was that really how she wanted to
spend her summer? Saving for college, sure, but what was college, really,
but more long hours, cooped up in a library with boring books nobody but
captive students would ever read. An image of herself, bejeweled,
ravishing, sinking into a canopied bed strewn with flowers flashed
through Melanie's mind. Beyond a man, dressed much like Martin, with
bulging muscles, observing her, lusting for her, but getting her only if he
paid, despite the fact that she was as attracted to him as he was to her.
"Maybe-maybe just for a little bit, a day or two," Melanie said.
"That's the answer I expected," Gwendolyn smiled, teeth flashing.
"You are as smart as you are beautiful. I only want to train you, darling.
Whether you choose to turn your training into a professional occupation is
up to you."
"Okay," Melanie said softly. She felt Gwendolyn find her hand and
take it. Together they rose from the tub. Melanie suddenly caught sight of
Martin and remembered his presence. She shrank back slightly. Gwendolyn
caught her feeling.
"Do I get to whip her now?" Martin asked bluntly, rising from the
toilet, flagellum in his hand.
"No, Martin, you will never lay another finger on her," Gwendolyn
said. "You are a pig." The girls stepped from the tub as Gwendolyn spoke.
"What?!" Martin cried, incredulous. Melanie felt bolder at
Gwendolyn's words, which even in her ears came as a shock. She had
rather liked Martin, despite his coarseness. At that moment Kimberly
appeared in the doorway. She threw a Poptart at Martin and giggled. There
was a riding crop in her hand. She made to run, hoping, apparently, that
Martin would give chase.
"As I said, Martin, you will never have Melanie," Gwendolyn said. "I
only offered her to you because I was jealous of her. Now we are sisters.
And we are going to put you in your place." Melanie didn't quite know what
to make of Gwendolyn's words, but they sounded enticing. Could the two
of them really gang up on this large man? Suddenly, impishly, Kimberly
dashed into the bathroom and wriggled her riding crop at Martin, as if to
engage his with a sword. Furiously, his face red, Martin lashed his whip
down through the air. Perhaps due to Kimberly's rapidly rising dexterity
with the crop, the thong of the whip caught round Kimberly's crop and
became wrapped about it.
At the same moment Gwendolyn rushed past Kimberly and seized
Martin. Melanie, taking her cue from Gwendolyn, ran at Martin too.
Martin's pants, never fully buttoned after his forced blow job on
Gwendolyn, fell from his hips as he raised up the hand he had been using to
hold them round his waist. The girls knocked him backward and his head
hit the tank of the toilet. The hard ceramic knocked him a blow on the
noggin as a flower pot perched there fell theatrically onto the side of his
head, spilling dirt, giving him another unwelcome blow.
It did not take Martin long to recover his addled senses, but when he
did the girls had already swiftly bound his wrists with rope. He still
slumped backward upon the toilet, and as he watched the girls roped his
ankles together.
"That's not how you tie a knot, silly," Melanie said to Kimberly.
Gwendolyn took over and finished the work in proper form.
"Hey! What are you up to?" Martin bleated.
"We ought to flush you down the toilet," Gwendolyn hissed.
"I paid my money," Martin complained. "And a lot of it, too."
"I'm sorry, I've just never liked you Martin," Gwendolyn said primly.
"I'm going to stash you in my basement for a few days while I play with
my new friends and then, after I've sold this chateau, I'm going to go away
where you'll never find me."
"Cursed bitch!" Martin swore. Gwendolyn rose and bid the girls
follow her. Together they padded out of the bathroom, Kimberly turning to
stick her tongue out at Martin as she left. "Fucking whore! Whorrre!"
Martin drew out the word, savoring it. "You're all whores! Whores from
Hell!"
"That's a good name," Gwendolyn said thoughtfully to the girls as
they exited the bedroom. "I like that!" Melanie and Kimberly giggled.
Chapter Five
David and the ancient chauffeur were beckoned to carry Martin down
to the cellar. Kimberly and Melanie walked on either side of Gwendolyn.
During the tying of Martin Melanie had managed to pick up both the crop
and the whip. Only now did Kimberly realize that she was bereft of her
wicked toy. "Gwendolyn," Kimberly piped up. "Make Melanie give me my
crop back. And the whip too. I'm the one who got it from Martin."
"What?" Gwendolyn asked, looking down God-like from a self-induced
reverie. "Oh. No, you may only have the crop. Melanie deserves a weapon
too. She helped subdue Martin." Kimberly pouted. Melanie, not wanting to
be a little whiner like her stepsister, passed the crop without protest to
Gwendolyn, who passed it on to Kimberly. After receiving the crop
Kimberly stuck out her tongue at Melanie.
"Now Kimberly, you must not be so insolent," Gwendolyn said. "Saucy
young girls with bottoms like yours draw off men's belts rather quickly."
"Well, I shall never allow myself to be whipped, or even spanked,"
Kimberly said with a small grin of self-satisfaction, knowing she had
defiled her stepsister's bottom just the previous night. "My bottom shall
remain inviolate."
"Oh, yeah?" Melanie cried. She brandished her little short-thonged
whip. "We'll see about that!" Kimberly went scurrying down the hall, with
Melanie in hot pursuit. The nubile girls, both naked, hair flying, proved a
breathtaking sight. As Kimberly rounded a corner she slammed straight
into a man in a Brooks Brothers business suit. Melanie, just about to
swing in with her whip, caught herself short. Even as the man recovered
himself from the delectable sight of the naked jailbait before him,
Melanie managed to cover her pubic thatch with her hand. The man's eyes
lifted from Kimberly's chestnut locks just after Melanie had hidden her
Venus mound beneath her fingers.
"Oh! Sir!" Melanie yelped. Her white breasts jiggled nakedly, their
cherry-tipped nipples tempting even Gods to reach down from Heaven and
pluck them. As Melanie's eyes drank in the exquisitely suited man before
her one of her hands floated to her nearest tit to settle hesitantly atop it.
Even now, only seconds into her meeting with the man, she felt suddenly
eager to offer the fruit of her body to him. Her fingers at her pubic hair
wiggled, begging to be let up.
Gwendolyn, hearing Melanie's little cry of surprise and the thud of
Kimberly's contact, knew that her male friend for the morning must have
arrived early. She hastened down the hall the girls had traversed. As she
passed a small empty table she swept off its linen covering. She hustled
out behind Melanie and draped the tablecloth over her shoulders. Melanie,
instinctively, even as her uterus begged otherwise, drew the tablecloth
round her. The man smiled. He directed his gaze back down to Kimberly,
still in his arms.
"Such delightful visitors you have this morning," the man said. He
had an imperious demeanor.
THE MOLESTER'S MILITIA!
by holy smoke (Can Collector and Lieutenant General)
My thanks to Fuck Decency for allowing me to publish this little
notice (of course they charged me the standard advertising rate:)
I hereby announce the forming of the Molester's Militia! Meet us
down under the "sin city" bridge by the porta-potty! (Don't worry, one
of us is always sitting in there taking a shit and reading porno mags--
come anytime!) (We do!)
Now it has long been said of the Palestinians, "They are hiding
behind women and children!" Well, what do you think Bill Clinton is
doing? He puts day care centers in federal buildings so HE can hide
behind women and children! There never used to be day care centers in
federal buildings. It is all part of the feminist-yuppie conspiracy.
Bored women in the '50's wanted to "get out of the house." Then, later,
they complained that they couldnŐt take their kids with them. And, of
course, they wanted government-funded day care. So, presto(!) we now
have federal day care in federal buildings for all the women. The
women like strutting down to the day care center, on government time,
to coddle their precious children. But God forbid that a man should
walk by and look inside the day care center. (Unless he's a yuppie
father, of course--one of those diaper changing "men.") This is the sort
of thing we militia members across the country are fighting against.
For twenty years men, and white men in particular, have been
beaten over the head. We've been called date rapists, statutory rapists,
been forcibly given "sensitivity" training (feminist brainwashing.)
We've been called "deadbeat dads," child molesters, etc. We're sick of
it!
Let us assume that the bombing in Oklahomo and the Federal
Government's slaughter in Waco were both crimes against humanity. In
Oklahomo, we have "some nut" doing the bombing. In the latter case, we
have the learned, highly intelligent members of the GOVERNMENT
committing mass murder. Which is the greater crime? That committed
by somebody who is just a loser, some white trash "nut," or that
committed by the government?
Stay tuned for my next announcement. Hopefully these fools who
publish Fuck Decency wonŐt run both of them together.
THE VIEW FROM THE RECYCLING CENTER
Our First Patriotic Act
by me, holy smoke
As you know, I have formed the Molester's Militia here in "Sin
City." You may have a militia of your own. (Roller has a Masturbator's
Militia.) You are probably wondering, "now that I have one, what do I do
with it?"
Me and the militiamen went out recently to the Sin City Local
Municipal Airport. Even though they only have three flights a day (not
counting the flies in the lunchroom), they have a gigantic restroom.
We all sat around waiting for one of those "beads and sandals"
liberals to go take a shit. Then we followed him into the bathroom.
Each of us went into a separate toilet stall. As Mr. Liberal sat there
thinking about how much he loves Bill and Hillary, each of us began
flushing our toilet, in unison. First we would all yell, "Down with
Clinton! Down with the Liberals!" And then we would all flush our
toilets together, and down they would go. This was quite enjoyable. Of
course after doing this a few times somebody complained to the
management and we got kicked out and threatened with arrest, but you
can't have a revolution without at least flushing some toilets, can you?
Anyway, we were being non-violent, just like Bill and Hillary want us
to be.
Right now we members of the Sin City Militia (Molester Division)
are planning to go to Atlanta. There we plan to flush all the toilets
during the Olympics, yelling "Down with Clinton!" Imagine all the media
coverage our militia will get when some announcer says, "60 Child
Molesters from Sin City have just been arrested for flushing lots of
toilets and trying to overthrow the American government!" I'm already
writing a book and accepting offers for a four million dollar book
contract.
AND IN THE END...
ŇUnder the First Amendment there is no such thing as a false idea.
However pernicious an opinion may seem, we depend for its correction
not on the conscience of judges and juries but on the competition of
other ideas.Ó - U.S. Supreme Court (418 U.S. 323)
----------------------- Fuck Decency! -----------------------
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-or send e-mail to: file.archives@backdrop.com
-Free minicomics: send a stamped, self-addressed envelope & age
statement to: Jim Corrigan, P.O. Box 3663, Phenix City, AL 36868 U.S.A.
-Naughty Naked Dreamgirls (Library of Congress ISSN: 1070-1427) is
copyright 1996 and a trademark of Andrew Roller.
-NNDŐs favorite ftp site: members.aol.com/fm99999
-END OF 57 EMISSION
-Join the MolesterŐs Militia! 1-800-I REVOLT