Andrew Roller Presents
FUCK DECENCY
Issue No. 93
Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in
Bottoms in Bondage
Chapter One
ÒThen that must be why he brought you, dear,Ó Mistress consoled her.
ÒFor training. YouÕve been to school before, havenÕt you?Ó
ÒYes! Of course! For arithmetic, and writing, and cooking! I was
very good in home economics.Ó
ÒThen you must be very good in this school too, dear, for sex is even
more important than cooking to a marriage.Ó
ÒWell...Ó Linda considered, thinking, I knew, that man could live
without sex but not without food. Yet, truly, even I at my tender age knew
that any man would pass up a meal for fucking. I knew this just from
being around boys. At school theyÕd complain endlessly about needing
second helpings in the lunchroom. Then, next day, IÕd see them necking out
back of the cafeteria with some girl, and theyÕd miss lunch entirely. Yet
all afternoon theyÕd be grinning from ear to ear.
ÒNow is anyone else thinking of backing out?Ó Mistress asked,
surveying us as we sat fidgeting round the table. We were half a dozen
pair of jiggly boobs, all anxious and yet very pretty. We shook our heads
no. Mistress smiled, rose, strode to the door IÕd entered through. She
opened the drawer of a heavy oak dresser near the entrance. She plucked a
key from it, and locked the door. Finality. We were done in now, for sure.
My next dance card, and the next after that, would never have an ÒAÓ on it
again. Mistress replaced the key in the dresser.
ÒThis drawer is self-locking,Ó Mistress warned us. I opened it
before you girls arrived, so IÕd be able to get the door key out. But once I
close it, I cannot get the door key out anymore. Only one of the masters
will be able to open the front door, and which one has the second key, or
where heÕs stashed it, I do not know. Firmly she shut the drawer, and its
closing seemed to echo in the room. I think we all looked a little pale
then, despite our rouge and makeup.
Mistress returned to our table. She gazed at me a moment, almost
longingly. ÒLisa, you are so young and sweet,Ó she said at last. ÒTruly you
are my favorite! I want you to wear what I wore at my first sex party.Ó
From her small box, the one that had held the collars, she drew forth a
pair of shiny metal handcuffs.
ÒOh, my God!Ó Linda exclaimed.
ÒShush, girl! Or IÕll dress you in these instead,Ó mistress warned.
Linda watched as I felt mistress draw my arms behind me. I wanted to
bolt, to flee, but a desire still possessed me to please my newfound
master. I did not want to go back to mommie just yet. I wanted to play,
to have fun! Yet could I, bound like this, I asked myself. Too late! I felt
the cold cuffs snap shut. They were tight on my wrists. I did not ask
about they key. I knew the answer already. A master would have it.
Someone would unlock me, but it would not necessarily be my own master.
For, indeed, they would not know, in advance, which of us had been cuffed.
It was a ritual passed down, woman to woman. I would possess the cuffs
from now on, until I passed them along to another. And one more item too,
I realized, my eyes rounding with shock as I saw it drawn from the box. A
ball gag! Big and round and apple-red. Boys at school threatened talkative
girls with them, though in fact they owned none, simply read of them in
magazines. Except one boy. Somehow heÕd gotten hold of one and passed it
around in class one day, amongst the boys. TheyÕd chucked. We girls had
not asked teacher any questions that day. ÒBoyÕs Day,Ó they called it after
that. The day the girls shut up in class.
Now mistress put the gag to my lips. I opened my lips, receiving it
as IÕd hoped to receive masterÕs cock. Firmly she shoved it home, nearly
gagging me, momentarily. It bulbed within my mouth, trapping my tongue
beneath it. I had to think to swallow. Yet, worse, the ball bulged from
between my parted lips, showing everyone my submission. I felt like some
assistant to William Tell. Would he pierce me right through my apple,
gauging even his speed correctly so that the pointed arrowhead rested
harmlessly within my gaping mouth? Or would it travel on, stabbing me
right through the base of my skull and nailing me to a wall somewhere? I
trembled at the thought of walking around, greeting men with a ball gag on
and a sign hanging from my neck reading, ÒI Love You.Ó The other girls
looked at me with trepidation. Things were getting very serious now.
Along one wall there was a curtain. ÒI must open the curtain now,Ó
Mistress advised us. She rose and clattered across the floor in her heels,
her bottom showing all the way. Drawing on a cord, she moved the curtain
back with little effort. Curiously, she drew from a cord hanging down at
the center of the drapes (for there were two, which now withdrew
simultaneously). When the drapes were gone mistress walked forward,
and I saw that there was an opening in the wall. Mistress stopped at the
opening, and to my surprise I saw the men just beyond, lounging in tailored
tuxedoes.
ÒPlease come in. The partyÕs about to begin,Ó Mistress called, her
voice sounding small and insignificant from where we sat. A light breeze
ruffled her hair, shivered her dress. As she turned the men caught the
breathtaking sight of her bottom. Only her husband, among the men in the
group, had seen her like that before. As she walked back to us her bottom
beckoned them, swaying and jiggling with wifely lure. The men hustled up
from the chaise lounges theyÕd been resting in, smoking and talking. They
tossed their cigars aside and followed Sandy, eyes glued to her heinie.
She led them to us.
The men seemed imposing as they entered. They were big men, tall,
some of them extremely well built; others, like my master, more regal,
slim but strong. They gazed at us with covetous eyes, irrespective of who
owned whom. We were, in fact, on display, like wares in a shop window.
Except there was no window.
Like the other girls, my rounded eyes flicked from one to the other.
We were runaway slaves, captured by our masters. When my eyes met
those of my own master I blushed, dropped them. I felt ashamed wearing
the ball gag, as if I myself had ordered it put on. It seemed a symbol of
my wantonness; letting him steal me, strip me, and now even dressing up
for him, in naughty clothes that hid nothing.
The men, despite their decorous attire, seemed about to tear us from
our seats round the table and fuck us directly. But mistress raised her
hand. It was slim, delicate, with long fingers and longer nails. It could
not have restrained a big dog, tugging on a leash. Yet it stopped the men.
It stilled them. With a shudder I realized the Òrough sex,Ó so often
referred to, would be ritualized; perhaps administered by mistress
herself, for the menÕs wicked pleasure. IÕd hoped to get whatever must be
done to me over with quickly, taken by my master and fucked hard and
fast, breaking my desire to flee; perhaps given to a friend afterward, for a
final vigorous fuck. But this decadence would be slow, leisurely. We
might be tied up and God knows what done to us, for hours perhaps, til we
screamed more loudly than the souls damned in Hell, til our voices gave
out and we lay with mouths open in a rictus only, tortured still. Boys had
sometimes boasted of this to me, reading up on it first in Penthouse
Forum and then taunting me with it in the lunch line, me and the other
girls. How we would have this done to us, and that, and always they made
a big thing about how we would be wearing boots. I glanced down at
myself, well-booted, all us girls (save mistress) well-booted, and
realized what IÕd let myself in for. The pretty game of dress-up had been
not so much a girlÕs fantasy as a boyÕs, with the men gloating outside,
waiting to rape us while we primped and pranced before the mirrors in
mistressÕ bedroom.
Five men. Five females. Mistress rose, her frail body dwarfed by the
hulking men who towered over us. Yet she controlled them, despite her
frailty. With her stocking-sheathed legs, her bottom showing in back, she
held them in check with but a glance. (Though for how long, I wondered?)
Mistress had a hat of her own, it turned out, a pink policewomanÕs cap.
She lifted it from atop a bookshelf and plunked it on her head. She took
hold of the bill and straightened it.
ÒAttention, men! Bring yourselves to attention.Ó Sluggishly the five
men formed up into a kind of line. ÒPresent arms!Ó Mistress ordered. With
an audible groan of relief the men zipped themselves down, yanked open
their trousers. Through their flies their cocks sprang, huge and hard and
throbbing manfully. Mistress stopped before each one and lifted it with a
single finger. She inspected it.
ÒOnly the largest cocks are allowed,Ó she reminded the men. ÒIÕm
going to measure each of you and you had better not have lied on your
applications. Your dick better be just as big as you said it would be, right
down to the last centimeter. And I want to know who has the biggest
penis, so extend yourselves with all your might. You will not want to miss
out on the prize for it.Ó Manfully the men thrust out their organs, all stiff
as boards, their butts clenching and unclenching beneath their expensive,
tailored pants. Carefully Mistress measured the first man with a tape
measure, both his length, right down to the hairy base; and, wrapping the
tape measure around his girth, the width of his cock.
ÒOh, God!Ó the first man exclaimed. I could see the touch of
mistressÕ hands had him trembling right on the brink of release.
ÒContain yourself until I can get your measurements, sir!Ó Mistress
admonished. When he groaned again she stuck a fingernail directly into his
peehole, as if her delicate bit of nail could hold back his torrent. The man
bit his lip, trembled, groaned again. ÒControl, sir, control. You must hold
yourself in all night, not just for the inspection.Ó
ÒI-I canÕt,Ó the man admitted suddenly, giving a final, heart-rending
tremble.
Mistress lifted up the front of her dress, displayed her bush to him.
ÒDo you have no consideration for my pussy?Ó She asked. ÒSee how neatly
IÕve trimmed it, just for you, for your private enjoyment. Making sure
every little curl was just so...Do you think you were chosen because you
could cum quickly? Like some boy in high school? YouÕre supposed to be a
man, and hold yourself--Ó It was too late. With a shocked gasp Mistress
realized suddenly he was shooting his seed right into her pretty mound.
She looked down, open-mouthed, dismayed, as he poured shot after shot of
sperm directly onto her pubic hair. At last the torrent ceased and
mistress stood there, appalled at what heÕd done to her dell. ÒLook at me!Ó
she cried. ÒI spent hours doing my hair, putting up makeup, picking out
clothes, and you just shoot your wad right onto me? The sperm dropped in
great globs from her mount, as if she herself was somehow magically
endowed with an ability to make seed. Much of it, though, remained,
spoiling her with male fluid that would not come out without careful
washing. She hadnÕt been slimed, but spermed.
Mistress tucked the front of her upcurled dress under her sash. She
did not want to get sperm all over it. She would just have to let her
pretty bush show. She took her special box, that which had held our
collars, and pulled out a small black ring. A cockring! WeÕd teased the
boys at school about putting them in those, discussed the possibility at
great length at our girlÕs slumber parties. Now I finally got to see one, a
real one. I watched, mesmerized, as mistress slipped the ring firmly over
the flagging cock of the man whoÕd just come.
ÒThis will control your emissions better in future, sir,Ó mistress
told him. He was young, he would be up again soon, I could tell. Even as
her fingers fitted the ring to his staff it strengthened, inspired by her
touch. ÒI didnÕt think you were such a little boy that youÕd need one of
these. ItÕs for training, you know, training cocks to retain their seed until
the appointed moment. The moment when (ahem) the woman is ready.Ó
Before her hands left him he was quite stiff again, the ring hopelessly
bound round his penile base, digging into the flesh there. His organ seemed
bigger now, bloated by the ring. He could do nothing to rid himself of it,
short of cuming. And he wasnÕt about to let that happen, I could tell! The
men chided him that theyÕd buttfuck him if he couldnÕt hold himself in a
second time. Tremblingly he stood there, his dick imprisoned, yet lewdly
shown. Mistress moved on to the next man.
ÒWhy, youÕre not as big as the last fellow, sir,Ó Mistress scolded
him, taking his measurements. Indeed. The first was chosen, it seemed,
almost for his penile attributes themselves. He was young and looked like
a swimmer, but his cock was deliciously big. HeÕd gotten in based on its
size, I thought, not because of his status. The other men, older, looked
like dignified businessmen, but the boy whoÕd spurted looked like someone
who might deliver a pizza to your door. But in a tuxedo, of course, like the
smashing one he wore now. My eyes remained on him even after mistress
had left him; standing with his penis exposed, quivering madly in the
confines of the cock ring. I longed to rise from my chair, tear off my gag,
and then gag myself on his rod, make him spurt down my throat. Master
saw me admiring him, admonished me silently with his gaze. Wilfully I
glanced away, looked upon the young boy once more, drank in his cock with
my eyes. A glance back at master found him brimming with silent anger. I
tossed my mane of hair, impishly refused to look at him after that,
preferring instead the boyÕs wondrous organ, a feast for eyes and pussy
both.
ÒGirls, please rise,Ó Mistress told us when sheÕd finished taking the
last manÕs measurements. The others got up, but mistress had me remain
seated, for I was gagged. ÒEach girl to a man other than her master,Ó
mistress ordered, Òfor to do otherwise would be a waste of
opportunities!Ó The girls padded out, lined up one to a man, and each man,
knowing beforehand what must be done, forced the girl to her knees. He
stuck his dick in her face and ordered her to suck it. Even mistress was
included, dropping to her knees to take a man next to her husband. Linda
was assigned to my master. I hoped, maliciously, that heÕd spurt all over
her pretty camisole.
I watched as the girls, choking first, then getting hold of
themselves, sucked each man deep into her throat. Some deeper than
others, of course. Rose and Linda looked least able, while Kitty and
mistress seemed to plumb new depths with the offered cocks. Why go the
route of the tight-clasping pussy when the tummy can be fertilized
directly? A silly question, of course, but I nonetheless thought the girls
looked like extras for some Aliens movie, their heads fastened to cocks
that would impregnate them with some alien spoor.
Like milkmaids at milking time the girls bobbed their heads, up-
down, up-down, rhythmically drawing forth the menÕs seed. Yet, reluctant
steers, the men held back, grimacing. We had our own stud farm, it
seemed, yet the chosen bulls were reluctant to lose their strength. At
last each girl received a messy tribute in her mouth. Linda spluttered,
losing some of the precious seed, shocked at the indignity of having a man
come in her mouth. Kitty and mistress worked their own men until theyÕd
claimed every last drop. Even the young man came again, spurting lustily
into RoseÕs mouth, and I envied her. When the young ladies rose they all
had sperm moustaches, like little girls, save that the milk theyÕd drank
could make babies grow in their wombs.
ÒMmmm, delicious! Thankyou, sir,Ó Mistress said to the man sheÕd
serviced.
ÒIt tastes awful!Ó Linda protested, trying to lick all the sperm off
her upper lip. Mistress gave her bottom a playful slap.
HITLER SPEAKS!
(Thanks to AOL)
by holy joe
Recently I got in trouble with AOL. I posted the following quote:
ÒI love your message and heartily agree!Ó - Adolf Hitler
AOL banned me from Usenet because, in their words, ÒIt is contrary
to accepted nettiquette to post a one line reply.Ó
Now we here at Fuck Decency have the greatest respect for AOL.
What other organization could adopt Nazi-like Terms of Service and then
pretend to speak for all cyberspace when the issue of censorship comes up
before the U.S. Congress? Hence, at their direction (implicit if not
explicit) we present MANY lines from Adolf Hitler:
MEIN KAMPF
by Adolf Hitler
There are statements of truth which are so obvious that just for
this reason the common world does not see, or at least does not recognize,
them. At times the world passes these well-known truisms blindly and it
is most astonished if now suddenly somebody discovers what everybody
ought to know.
...Not a day should pass during which the young man is not trained
physically for at least one hour in the morning and again in the evening, in
every kind of sport and gymnastics. Here especially one kind of sport
must not be forgotten which in the eyes of many ÒnationalsÓ is considered
as brutal and undignified: boxing. It is incredible what erroneous opinions
are current about this in the circles of the Òeducated.Ó That the young
man learns to fence and then goes about fighting duels is looked upon as
natural and honorable, but that he boxes is supposed to be brutal! Why?
There is no sport that, like this, promotes the spirit of aggression in the
same measure, demands determination quick as lightning, educates the
body for steel-like versatility. If two young people fight out a difference
of opinion with their fists, it is no more brutal than if they do so with a
piece of ground iron. Also, it is not less noble if one who has been
attacked wards off his attacker with his fists instead of running away and
calling for a policeman. But above all, the young and healthy boy has to
learn to be beaten.
...Analogous with the education of the boy, the folkish State can also
direct the education of the girl from the same viewpoints. Here too the
main stress should be put on physical training, and only after this on the
promotion of spiritual and last of all, the intellectual values. The *goal*
of female education has invariably to be the future mother.
AND IN THE END...
ÒIt is well that war is so terrible, or we should grow too fond of it.Ó
- Gen. Robert E. Lee
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-Naughty Naked Dreamgirls (Library of Congress ISSN: 1070-1427) is
copyright 1996 and a trademark of Andrew Roller.
-END OF 93 EMISSION
- ÒNot Hitler! Hilter!!!Ó - Adolf Hilter