Andrew Roller Presents
FUCK DECENCY
Issue No. 67
Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in
Desire Isle
Chapter Ten
"No, of course not!" Melanie frowned. "Who ever heard of someone
liking a spanking?"
"Properly administered, it can be a source of stimulation," Renoir
said. "I take it then you've never had a sexual spanking?"
"No," Melanie said. "Just the ordinary ones, and not too many of
those, thank God. But I don't blame my daddy. I had been naughty, and I
deserved it. And he gave it to me, just like he should. But I'll bet you'd be
too much of a weenie to punish me if I ever misbehaved for you," Melanie
taunted. Pointedly she glanced down at his cock, held tight by the ivory
rings.
Renoir advanced quickly upon Melanie. She raised her hands to her
face and intercepted his. At the same time she broke into a peal of
giggles.
"What about the time your little stepsister birched you? Wasn't that
a sexual spanking?" Candy, dancing beside Melanie, asked.
"That was just my little sister being a brat!" Melanie replied. She
struggled playfully against Renoir. Candy stopped dancing, and gazed at
the pair. Renoir got the better of Melanie and turned her about. His rock
hard penis played along her bottom cheeks as he struggled with her. He
pressed her forward, bending her belly over the hardwood table that
dominated the room. A moment later a chastened Melanie lay flat upon the
table, her feet still on the floor but her upper body pressed hard against
the wooden platform.
"Tie her," Renoir said gruffly to Candy. He bobbed his head,
indicating sturdy chains affixed along the sides of the table. The platform
was well equipped. It had chains dangling from each corner, plus a pair at
the table's midpoint. It was these last that Renoir indicated to Candy.
"Melanie's my friend," Candy said compassionately, resisting Renoir's
order. Renoir gave an angry, guttural growl.
"Umph! Renoir!" Melanie piped up. Renoir eased up, putting less
pressure on Melanie's trapped frame. "I'm sorry I insulted you." Renoir
stood more erect, leaving Melanie lying of her own free will across the
table. She made no move to rise. "I insulted your manhood, calling you a
weenie," Melanie said. She seemed to relish the insulting term as she
spoke it. She wiggled her little bottom, as if to tease Renoir's big prick
into spearing it. "Since I insulted your manhood, I'm sure you must
thoroughly spear me with it to prove it isn't a weenie," she said invitingly.
"So, go ahead, I'll be as obedient as possible." Melanie arched her bottom
as high as she could, standing on her tiptoes. Candy put a hand over her
mouth. Could this be little Melanie? What had come over her?
"I want you up on the table, kneeling," Renoir said gruffly to Melanie.
Gracefully Melanie stood. She gave her long, lemon mane a toss.
Wordlessly she clambered up onto the table. Renoir gave her bottom a
little push with his hand to help her. Melanie knelt on all fours on the
table. She looked back at Renoir.
"May I have a pillow?" Melanie asked.
"No," Renoir replied. Obediently Melanie put her face down on the
hard wood of the table.
"Ooch," Melanie said as her face came into full contact with the
wood. Renoir turned to Candy.
"On second thought," Renoir said. "Candy, get me two pillows from
the bedroom." Candy went to the door of the playroom. It was locked, and
seemed so heavy and solid that she thought she might not even be able to
swing it open if it had been unlocked. Renoir, seeing her predicament,
went and unlocked the door and pulled it open for her. Melanie, meanwhile,
reached across to the nightstand that held various wicked toys. She
picked up a urethral suppository and contemplated it. She brought it close
to her face. She stuck out her tongue and licked it.
Renoir's hand came to Melanie's and took the urethral suppository
from her fingers. A moment later Candy scampered back in from the
bedroom, carrying two large pillows. To Melanie's surprise, Renoir had her
lift each of her knees in turn, and put one of the big pillows underneath
each of her knees. Neither pillow was for her face! Kneeling on the
pillows, Melanie's bottom was now arched even higher into the air.
Melanie felt very open and vulnerable. Her knees were spread
provocatively wide, and she wondered what Renoir had done with the
urethral suppository she had so foolishly wet down for him.
"Take Melanie's hands and chain them to the front of the table,"
Renoir said to Candy. He made to chain Melanie's feet, then paused. He
looked up at Candy once more. "I expect you to obey this order," Renoir
said to Candy. The redhead meekly nodded her head. Her friend was
cooperating with Renoir now, so how could she refuse? Candy eyed the
whips and other flagellums hanging on the walls of the room as she went
to the front of the table. She saw that Melanie was gazing at the
flagellums too. She tried to catch Melanie's eye, but the blonde seemed
lost in a dream.
Candy chained Melanie's hands down much more loosely than she
knew Renoir would like. She just couldn't bring herself to bind her friend
fast, no matter what the consequences.
"Ooch, please not too tight sir," Melanie piped up. Renoir was
chaining off her ankles, and apparently doing a very good job of it. Had
Melanie only begged him to show mercy to arouse him further? In any
event, her imprecation did not seem to lessen the tightness of the first
chain upon her ankle. Still working at Melanie's wrists, Candy watched as
Renoir tied down Melanie's second ankle just as securely as he'd bound the
first.
Renoir made no effort to check Candy's handiwork when she told him
she had finished. Instead he ordered her to fetch a bottle of scent spray
from a lower shelf of the nightstand. She did, and he told her to stand
behind Melanie and squirt down her bare bottom with perfume. He,
meanwhile, would select an implement from the wall for Melanie's
punishment.
Candy stood behind the bottom of her fair friend. She aimed the
first squirt of the scent spray. She felt a bit angry at Melanie now. Her
friend was getting all the attention from Renoir, reducing Candy to a mere
servant! Candy aimed the scent spray right at the partially hidden dimple
of Melanie's anus.
Suddenly there was a knock on the playroom door. Renoir had not
bothered to lock the door after Candy went for the pillows. Candy turned
to look what was up, suddenly more aware than ever of her near total
nudity. The door swung open. A European woman stood in the doorway.
She looked fit and trim, like an aerobics instructor. She was over 30,
perhaps as old as 40.
Melanie, as if waking from sleep, lifted her head slightly and stared
behind her arched bottom in surprise. As the image of the woman
impacted itself more fully upon Melanie, she lifted her back until it was
almost vertical, raising up her head for an even better view of the woman.
Her hands, very loosely chained, moved easily across the table to support
herself. But her feet remained immobile, trapped at each corner at the
bottom of the table. Melanie's long, lustrous hair spilled down from her
head to splay across the table. From a corner of her mouth a bead of
saliva drooled.
Renoir was as surprised as his two young charges. He turned, cock
stiffly erect, one hand on a pony lash he'd just taken from the wall.
"Miriam!" Renoir gasped.
"I thought we had agreed not to exchange bodily fluids," Miriam said
stiffly to Renoir.
"Why, I wasn't-" Renoir began.
"You've been having whores here every night, haven't you?" Miriam
said accusingly.
"Well, now and then," Renoir lied.
"Excuse us, girls," Miriam said to the shocked Candy and Melanie.
"We're married, and we agreed with each other that we would not exchange
bodily fluids with others. At least, one of us agreed." Renoir gave an
audible gulp. "I'm sure you're delighted that your loving wife has come all
the way from France to pay you a visit," Miriam said to Renoir. As she
spoke she advanced on Melanie. Candy backed away, but Melanie couldn't
move, her ankles still being tied off to the table. Miriam lightly ran her
riding crop over Melanie's bare bottom. Melanie wanted to scream and
laugh at the same time. She was totally vulnerable, yet she was also
mooning this austere woman with her naked heinie. And the woman was
clearly jealous of her. Miriam gave Melanie's bottom a little tap with her
crop. "There's a masturbation party over at the Lesperance's," Miriam said
to Renoir. "For those of us who are socially correct in our sexual
appetites. I suggest you and your young charges join me there. I'll be
waiting for you in the living room." Miriam turned and left the room as
quickly as she had come in. Pointedly, she left the door open behind her.
"What's a masturbation party?" Candy and Melanie asked Renoir
almost in unison, as soon as Miriam had departed. Renoir put back his pony
lash and sullenly walked over to Melanie. With slow, certain hands he
began undoing Melanie's ankle chains. Candy, sensing an opportunity to
help her friend regain her freedom, went to the head of the table without
being told and began unraveling Melanie's wrist chains.
"A masturbation party is where we each masturbate ourselves,
watching each other, or masturbate each other. No fucking is allowed."
"Not even up the bottom?" Melanie asked, giving her own a wriggle.
Again Candy was shocked at Melanie's eagerness to "come on" to Renoir.
Perhaps this older man somehow fulfilled a need in Melanie to seduce her
own father, Candy thought.
"Not even up the bottom," Renoir said grudgingly. He freed the first
of Melanie's ankles and she happily kicked it up in the air. Before they left
the playroom Renoir made the girls take off the rest of their things. The
girls breathed a sigh of relief as he began their undressing by gently
taking off their nipple clamps. "Now you do the rest," Renoir said,
stepping back and lighting a cheroot.
"Even our heels?" Melanie asked meekly, as Candy shimmied self-
consciously out of her panties.
"Even your heels," Renoir replied, exhaling smoke. He was back in
command now, and clearly feeling as comfortable as before. He stood and
watched the girls' movements with eager eyes as they stripped off every
last stitch of clothing, including their stockings. The girls, for their part,
undressed with a mixture of seductivity and innocent apprehension. When
Renoir led them back down the hall the girls walked with shivering steps,
bottoms wiggling, fearful of what lay ahead. Each of them had their arms
crossed over their breasts.
Miriam was sipping a martini when Renoir and the girls re-entered
the living room. She regarded the girls with a mixture of matronly scorn
and erotic stimulation. "I have laid clothes out for the girls," Miriam told
Renoir. "Have them put them on." Candy and Melanie looked with surprise
at a number of items that had been lain on the couch. There were twin
camisoles, two pair of white mesh gloves, sheer white nylons with
garters to hold them up, and little white lace-up booties. The booties rose
to just above one's ankles, and were perched on six-inch heels. There was
also a broad ribbon for each girl, which they were told was for the
adornment of their necks. A golden brooch lay next to each ribbon, which
Miriam told each girl to fasten upon the ribbon, at her throat. In addition
there was a broad-brimmed straw hat for each girl, with a ribbon of its
own. Finally each girl had been provided with a parasol; in case, Miriam
said, they stayed the night at the party and wished to stroll the
Lesperance's gardens in the morning. Apparently Miriam was as worried
about melanoma as she was about AIDS. That both Candy and Melanie were
nicely tanned, with obvious white patches of skin where their bikinis had
covered their boobies and bottoms, seemed not to faze Miriam. As long as
they were in her care, apparently, there would be no more exposure to sun.
There was also a simple white shift for each girl, to put on when she
had finished dressing in the more intimate apparel. Miriam began their
change into the new outfits by relieving them of the beautiful earrings
Renoir had given them. The girls watched the earrings go with a great
deal of sadness. But their outlook improved when Renoir presented them
each with a new pair of earrings, chosen to match their new outfits. As
before, Renoir clipped the earrings through each girl's ears himself. Then,
at Miriam's command, the girls began helping each other into their new
apparel. When the girls were about dressed they realized there were
no panties. "Ma'am, where are our panties?" Candy asked Miriam. The
woman just smiled.
"Put on your shifts, girls," Miriam instructed. She said no more.
Meekly Candy and Melanie wiggled into their slips.
A limousine was waiting for the two couples down below. The girls
got quite a few looks as they passed through the hotel lobby, twirling
their parasols, wearing opaque chemises that tempted the viewer to peer
as intently as possible, hoping for a vision of what lay beneath. When all
four partiers were ensconced in the limo, the mood turned somber. Miriam
and Renoir had little to say to one another. In the years of their
relationship, they had grown to know each other's feelings without
speaking. The girls, forced to sit next to one another, not on either side of
Renoir as they had before, tried to remain on their best behavior. All knew
what delights lay ahead. The girls and Renoir had gotten not a little
aroused from their frivolity in the playroom. But Miriam's presence
prevented any shenanigans from taking place. Melanie felt like she was
riding in the family car on her way to church.
The Lesperance's had a small compound along the shore. It was a
structure, square in shape, of whitewashed masonry. Spotlights in the
yard highlighted the house and various monuments of shrubbery. The girls,
Renoir and Miriam were let out of the limo and escorted up the front steps
of the home. There a woman Miriam's age greeted them. Like Miriam, she
was dressed conservatively in evening wear.
Inside the home opened up into an extended entryway. The foursome
was led down this to a living room, where light-hearted merriment had
already begun. People, all still dressed, though some more provocatively
than others, were mixing. The girls soon found themselves being
introduced to a variety of people, many of whom they found delightful.
They remained a bit bashful, however, for it was quite obvious to everyone
that their chemises were exceedingly simple, too plain for partywear.
Obviously, they must have more enticing clothing on underneath. And with
the removal of their shifts, of course, the girls would be left standing
before their fellow guests without panties. Nonetheless, the girls kept up
their courage and paraded from guest to guest, chatting happily and
aimlessly twirling their little parasols. Every man, like Renoir, was
impeccably dressed in a tuxedo. It was the men who insisted on occupying
most of Candy and Melanie's time.
Suddenly the crowd quieted. Melanie could sense a change in the
mood of the people. She felt the partiers gathering around herself and
Melanie. Before she knew it they were completely surrounded by a wall of
admiring people. Miriam pushed through the crowd. She took each girl's
parasol from her hand and gave it to a man to hold. "You girls are our
newest friends, so you may begin the proceedings," Miriam said to Candy
and Melanie. With that she instructed Melanie to lift up her arms. Then,
taking Melanie's shift by the shoulders, she hoisted it up until it cleared
Melanie's hands. Melanie felt quite awkward as this happened, the shift
covering her face, while below her bare thighs were exposed, with her
pantiless bottom and pussy. Candy was next, and a moment later the girls'
parasols were returned to them. But the shifts were passed into the
crowd, and disappeared. Melanie searched the faces for Renoir, but he was
nowhere to be seen.
TIMOTHY LEARYÕS FIRST BROADCAST!
by me, timothy leary
Hi, folks! Sorry to interrupt whatever IÕm interrupting. As a dead
person, its not real easy to get into cyberspace. ThereÕs a lot of
interference, if you know what I mean.
While my body is stuck on earth, my soul is in heaven. This alone
presents a problem. Anyone whoÕs ever spoken of Ôthe duality of manÕ
hasnÕt even begun to know what that means. (By the way, the part of me
that is down on earth needs to use the restroom. Just thought IÕd pass
that along.)
Perhaps youÕve been reading the book, ÔGod, A Biography.Õ In that
book the author claims God is having an argument with himself throughout
the Holy Bible. Well, let me tell you, I can now confirm this first hand.
And the psychedelia side of God has won out! Recently I interviewed God,
and hereÕs what he told me:
God: Turn on, tune in, drop out!
Leary: Wow, man! I thought you were going to say ÔHere is Timothy Leary.
Open the Book of Life!Õ or something like that.
God: I did. ThatÕs what it says here, on your page. ÔTurn on, tune in, drop
out!Õ My thinking exactly.
Leary: Have I dropped too much acid or is it, like, real colorful up here?
God: I got tired of everything being white. So I decided to make
everything psychedelic instead.
Leary: Bill BennettÕs not going to like this.
God: Bill Bennett isnÕt invited. HE can go to Hell!
Leary: Really?
God: Previously I thought differently. But you canÕt imagine what
HeavenÕs like with a bunch of fucking moralists up here. All day long they
argue. ÔYou must put your fork on the left side of the plate.Õ ÔNo, morality
dictates that it must go on the right side of the plate.Õ ÔNo, as the
representative of earthÕs most ancient civilization, I must tell you that
itÕs immoral to eat with anything other than chopsticks.Õ ÔChopsticks?!
Shut up, you immoral heathen!Õ And so on... You canÕt imagine what it was
like for me to listen to that crap all day. FOR ETERNITY! Dress length was
argued. Covering the head (or not) was argued. What time everyone must
go to bed was argued. And, worst of all, the angels whoÕd been here longer
wanted to establish a curfew for the newer angels. (So the older angels
could win the arguments, of course, such as they were.)
Leary: Wow, man! That mustÕve been SOME bad trip!
God: Yeah, it forced me to start taking dope just to try to put up with it.
ThatÕs when I decided to redecorate heaven. And, best of all, I forced
Satan to trade with me. He gets all the goody two-shoes now. I get the
creative thinkers, the Penthouse Pets, etc. Plus the drug dealers, so I can
keep a good supply of drugs going up here.
Well, that was my interview with God. DonÕt worry about death,
man! ItÕs a trip! IÕll sign off for now and let you get back to whatever you
were doing but remember, LifeÕs a Trip! (And death too...)
----------------------- Fuck Decency! -----------------------
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