Andrew Roller Presents
FUCK DECENCY
Issue No. 119
Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in
Holland Hunnies
Chapter One
ÒMy, such a sturdy husband. How naughty it was of you to deny him
last night,Ó Mistress scolded Elizabeth. ÒThere must be some special
punishment for that, donÕt you think, Sally? At least in a place like this
there must be.Ó
ÒI-I guess so,Ó I agreed. My mind was still swimming in expectation
and bliss, caught short in my own pleasure.
ÒElizabeth, take charge of things while I get us a tray of
refreshments,Ó Mistress told her, promoting her to substitute mistress
just seconds after nominating her for our new victim.
ÒOkay,Ó Elizabeth said, confused at her changing roles. Perhaps she
was both still, mistress now and pretty victim later, on some swing-like
device of her own. Looking at RobÕs cock I knew there must be something
in store for her. And her own eyes seemed to want it. SheÕd not tasted
pleasure yet. Mistress left, slipping past our admirers yet not ordering
them out, as if they might act as guards to keep others from entering,
saving her having to set down her tray to unbolt our door.
The three of my friends unfastened my legs and arms and helped me
down from my perch.
ÒMy bottom hurts,Ó I complained, with an accusing glance at
Elizabeth. She giggled, her hand to her mouth, said nothing. With awkward
steps I walked to a bench, Elizabeth guiding me by one elbow as Rob
helpfully guided me by the other. Mark, my assailant, seemed most
discomforted of all, walking with a duck-like gait to the bench, his balls
forcibly descended by his ball-harness and held there for future
spermings.
Mistress returned, her black panties still at mid-thigh where Rob
had left them. She seemed not to mind how they hobbled her step, made it
shorter. She retained her mesh blouse; it concealed nothing, held nothing,
and prevented no one from playing with her. Yet she looked half-regal in
it, though her hair was slightly mussed now, the clothed in the land of the
bare. (Save our admirers, perhaps, for whom the door was now closed,
leaving them in with us, though they remained at a distance.)
I plopped on the bench, Mark beside me. I rested my head on his
shoulder. He stroked my hair. Rob sat down with Elizabeth. Gently they
frigged each otherÕs privates, wanting more but knowing Mistress would
not permit it yet. I patted MarkÕs cock. It was tumescent, his balls
bulging and churning below. Helpfully he stabbed his cock in the air,
encouraging me to do more. Mistress bent over, her ass reflecting itself
in a mirror opposite us, and kissed Mark on the head of his cock.
ÒBe good now, we must refresh ourselves,Ó she said. She stood erect
again, brushed her hair from her eyes where it had fallen in her bending.
SheÕd set her tray on a stool and she offered us crackers now, with caviar
on them and cheese in a can. She squirted the cheese onto each caviar-
laden cracker before handing it to us. I considered mine, unsure.
ÒEat it, darlings, it will make you more fertile. The cheese should
help you get it down. It contains a bit of my own secret love potion too,
so we can go all night. Our guests will be most appreciative.Ó She
glanced in the direction of the two who stood over us, clad but for the
manÕs cock and the womanÕs sumptuous breasts. Their faces wore party
masks, I saw now, to shield their identities from our eyes. I had been too
blissful before to notice.
ÒOh, I cannot!Ó Elizabeth whined, holding her cracker aloft and
contemplating it and the observing couple. I knew not which she refused.
Both, perhaps.
ÒRefusal in the dungeon is taken merely as an invitation for
punishment,Ó Mistress replied. Lightly she pushed the cracker with her
fingers into ElizabethÕs open mouth. The girl ate it, munching softly. I
popped mine in and ate it also. I did not wish to be punished any more than
I had already been.
ÒLetÕs see to that beautiful bottom of yours,Ó Mistress told me. She
took a white bearskin rug folded nearby and unfurled it. She laid it on the
floor. At her urging I lay down upon it on my belly. ÒOhhh, how awful of
her,Ó Mistress said, stroking my flinching hiney. I sensed mischief in her
voice. ÒYou can take much more, though, before the night is over, though
you do need some cream now to soothe it.Ó Before I could wriggle up she
was athwart my waist, sitting on me as one might a log, her thighs
splayed over my uprearing back. She bathed my bottom with sweet-
smelling oil, prying even into my uninjured anus as the others watched,
including our masked friends.
ÒOh! I am not hurt there!Ó I complained as she explored my rosehole,
my clenching back door.
ÒBut you might be. It is only two in the afternoon. We have many
hours ahead of us and your boyfriends are still hard as stone,Ó Mistress
replied. Within me her finger twirled as I jerked my hips in response. No
one else complained save me.
ÒWell, men, are you rested?Ó Elizabeth asked brightly when she had
oiled me where I needed it not. Her voice was bright, cheery. Our
boyfriends, desperate more than rested, gulped out replies that could only
be taken as requests to ejaculate. Their penises, once so randily
displayed, were rapidly becoming a liability. There was too much
temptation for them here and not enough relief. Which is exactly, no
doubt, how Mistress wanted it. An unforgettable experience in the
Dungeon of Love, even for me, with my well-prepared ass rearing up most
invitingly even as I strove to keep things out of it.
By now we were all so enthralled by our nude adventures in the
dungeon that we cared not that strangers were watching us. All of us
trembled still on the brink of unanswered pleasure. That strangers, even
masked ones, who cared nothing for us, gazed upon us meant nothing.
Indeed, it seemed somehow perversely inspiring. Their emotions
concealed, they gazed most intently at those parts of us which would
normally be unseen in polite society. And they wished to see our privates
raided. All manner of horrid things could happen to oneÕs privates in a
dungeon such as this. They gazed leeringly, hopefully. I shuddered, could
do nothing. I was a prisoner of Mistress and my own desire.
ÒElizabeth, suck upon Rob so he can poke you in your hiney while
Mark takes Sally that way,Ó Mistress urged. Elizabeth, having trained
herself on my breasts, now turned to my boyfriend. Eagerly she knelt
before him, her thighs spread alluringly wide, as if asking to be poked
even whilst she licked him.
ÒI donÕt know if I need the encouragement,Ó Rob gurgled, feeling the
insucking of ElizabethÕs mouth as she drew him in.
ÒControl, dear boy, control,Ó Mistress replied. She sat atop me still,
brushed her hair back and admired ElizabethÕs sucking. Then she turned
and sucked Mark, diddling me meanwhile on my clitty with her oiled finger.
Soon both men were groaning with their need to come. I gasped
beneath mistress, on the verge of orgasm myself. Only poor Elizabeth
remained unattended to. Gamely she kept both her hands wrapped about
RobÕs balls, holding them down as far as she could to keep him from
spurting in her mouth.
ÒGood, good,Ó Mistress said admiringly between sucking breaths on
MarkÕs cock. ÒYou are a willing and able pupil, Elizabeth. I shall teach you
much.Ó Perhaps fearfully or with a desire to assent, Elizabeth jerked her
bottom. Mistress leaned forward, pressing a hand to my soft ass cheeks
and leaving MarkÕs cock thrusting madly in the air, vacant of anywhere to
spurt save in mid-air. She swatted ElizabethÕs bottom hard, producing a
howl from the girl.
ÒWhat was that for?Ó Elizabeth asked. Tears welled in her eyes. ÒI
thought I was being good!Ó
ÒYou are, dear, until now, when you took your head from RobÕs cock.
If someone wishes to spank your pretty bottom while you are giving head,
you must concentrate on the cock in your mouth, not the hand on your
bottom.Ó With a scowl mistress got Elizabeth to return to RobÕs cock.
Quickly mistress gave her a half-dozen more slaps, testing her resolve to
service Rob. Elizabeth emitted muffled yelps but dutifully kept Rob in her
mouth and her hands up by his balls, squeezing them all the harder even as
her sucking drew upon him more deeply.
ÒOh! God! Stop!Ó Rob cried. He did not want to come, though just
moments before he had sought just such a release. Always on the brink of
coming men try to pull back, to go for more pleasure. Elizabeth felt his
sperm rising within his loins.
ÒMistress! What shall I do?Ó Elizabeth yelled, but it was too late.
Having taken her lips from Rob to speak she got a faceful of sperm. It shot
and spurted all over her even as she tried to recapture it in her mouth.
How embarrassing! In front of strangers! When Elizabeth finally turned
from her failed task of bringing Rob up but not off, I saw that her face
looked as if it had been creamed. Sperm was in her eyes, matted in loose
strands of her hair. It was all over her nose and mouth. Elizabeth blinked
through the manly cream at mistress. ÒIÕm sorry,Ó she apologized.
ÒAt least Mark here still has his load,Ó Mistress replied. She tickled
him underneath his cockhead, nearly making him shoot too. Somehow my
boyfriend had failed, at least in the initial round, where Mark had cum
through with flying colors, his seed still safely contained in his balls.
ÒSuch are the vicissitudes of arousal,Ó mistress said to me, patting
my head. She bent forward and consoled me with cooling licks of her
tongue upon my hiney.
ÒUp! Darlings,Ó Mistress urged us. Bodily she lifted me from the
comfy bearskin. Up onto my feet I rose, a little wobbly still, my cunny
tingling from her finger. Elizabeth, the bride at a wedding where the cake
had been put into her face (or so it looked!) got to her feet unsteadily,
wiping sperm from her eyes so she could see. And my Rob, limp now but
hopefully soon to return to the fray, stood, as did Mark. He seemed to be
of special interest to Mistress, at least for what remained still neatly
bagged twixt his legs. Gently, taking him by his swollen cockhead,
Mistress led Mark deeper into the dungeon. Our observers followed, though
at a distance. We were players and they our appreciative audience.
Mistress put MarkÕs back to a post. His cock stuck out at a ninety
degree angle, stiff as the wood she wished to bind him to. He did not
complain. He was beyond complaining. He was submerged in a world
where only the passionate surging of his loins existed, nothing else. All
around him boobs quavered temptingly, one pair only belonging to the
girlfriend he loved, the rest to new females, young and healthy and
reproductively fit, their honeyed pussies tightly offered. We teased him
with caressing fingers and hands, careful not to make him spill. Mistress
raised his muscled arms above his head. With frayed ropes she bound his
wrists, ropes affixed to the post for generations now perhaps. They had,
she whispered, held Jews during the Nazi occupation, men struggling as
Mark struggled now, with cock displayed. Nazi women perhaps had
pleasured themselves with men here, Jewish men or French resistance
fighters, tickling their balls or cutting them off, as they wished or as the
Fuhrer required. Now only Mistress ruled, and her games were less
violent, though just as arduous.
Mark, his wrists bound now, stabbed the air with his cock. Being
bound, having enjoyed the pleasure of MistressÕ closeness, her breasts,
stiff nippled, pricking his chest as she tied him, he wanted to be free
again. But we would not let him. We danced round him like naked savages,
Indians without our warpaint on, our breasts bouncing on our chest like
loose melons. Mistress fetched a hose. It was the only source of water in
our private dungeon room, she said, attached to a faucet that emitted only
ice cold water.
ÒOoooh, you look a little excited, darling,Ó Mistress cooed to Mark
with a devilish look in her eyes. My Rob stood by, looking forlorn despite
the obvious hardships Mark was enduring, his penis standing erect, his
butt wilfully grinding against the wood post despite the danger of
splinters. Men want so desperately to play, yet can only lose, shooting
their seed and ending the game. With his stiff cock waggling helplessly,
hopelessly in the air, Mark watched Mistress as she put the hose to his
cock. One hose facing down another, one man, the other man-made. ÒYou
need a cold shower. Elizabeth, turn on the tap, please. Only ice-cold
water comes out of this hose, young man, so if this doesnÕt cool you down
I donÕt know what will!Ó As Mark watched the hose with fearful yet
enthralled eyes, his girlfriend ran to the faucet. She bent, offering us a
view of her alluring bottomcheeks with their sweetly-curved undersides
uplifted, her cunny peeping between. Sperm dripped from her face onto the
facet handle. My boyfriendÕs sperm. She gripped it, twisted the handle.
ÒAuggh!Ó Mark cried aloud, his voice echoing in our dungeon chamber.
Water from the fjords of Norway, or some deep artesian well, spurted
coldly onto his boldly displayed prick. Over it the water freely sloshed, a
teasing reminder of the freedom with which he wished to slosh out the
contents of his own balls, drawn from deep within the well of his own
loins. ÒAughghg!Ó He cried again, yet now I saw he was adjusting slightly
to the spray, enjoying it, loving the soothing cooling sensation that
washed his cock, bathed it with clean cool water, ice water from the deep
earth sprayed lovingly onto his organ. Yet he remained utterly hard. His
veined member pulsed more vigorously than ever. His breath puffed in his
cheeks, his chest heaved, last of all his stomach clenched and eased. He
stood quietly in the spray. Mistress kept the hose on his cock only. The
water ran from it, spattered his legs and the floor, cleansed his tightly-
held balls beyond. But all else remained dry. His chest hair, his face, his
knotted-off arms and wrists. Only his loins enjoyed the intense ordeal
pleasure of the water; shocking at first, easing now, pure pleasure at last.
Soon he was thinking only of his own need to cum again, though the water
spurted on.
ÒOff!Ó Mistress ordered. Bottom swaying, fruit of her breasts,
pendant, Elizabeth twisted off the faucet. Jiggling like Eve she returned
to us. SheÕd hoped to wash her face but Mistress had not given permission
yet.
Elizabeth turned and regarded Mark. Her own slit pulsed hungrily,
unfed. ÒMistress, please let me mount him,Ó Elizabeth begged. She looked
wide-eyed at his engorged, finely displayed penis, a child window
shopping before a favorite candy store.
ÒYour treat must wait, dear,Ó Mistress said. There were other posts
nearby. She led Elizabeth to one and bound her facing it. There was a
padded leather bolster some distance in front of it. Binding ElizabethÕs
wrists high on the post, facing it, meant arching her over the bolster that
stood in front of the post. Arched thus Elizabeth stood with her bottom
offered to us. Her posture was of someone leaning forward to reach for
something she could not quite get. Mistress slipped her palms to the
insides of ElizabethÕs thighs. With outward pressing hands she spread
Elizabeth from behind. I took her cue and knelt. I brushed hair from my
face. I was graceful even now. We had visitors, watching us. I must be
graceful for them even in my nudity. I bound ElizabethÕs left ankle to a
steel ring set in the floor. I scuttled round on my knees to ElizabethÕs
right ankle, bound that one also. I stood, Mistress stepped back from
Elizabeth. Wriggling in her bent posture Elizabeth rolled her bottom
before us, a fish caught yet unstabbed as yet with the necessary harpoon.
Mistress turned to our guests. The manÕs cock was hard. His
mistress stroked it with loving fingers. Her breasts showed, plump
gourds ready for the feast.
ÒSir, would you like to take her?Ó Mistress asked our male visitor.
ÒNo!Ó Elizabeth cried. The man wore a mask. She had not a clue who
he was.
ÒShush, dear. He is free of disease. You have no right to refuse here,
as you might on the street. You are here to be fucked and that is the
beginning and end of it.Ó Elizabeth, though, perhaps to be coy, perhaps
truly not wanting it from this man, wriggled disobediently at her post, her
bottom nonetheless sweetly if forcibly offered.
ÒI do not want to! Not with him!Ó Elizabeth protested quite loudly.
ÒThen you must, dear, shush or I shall bring a whip to your bottom,Ó
Mistress replied.
ÒLet me!Ó I said. I wanted revenge for the games sheÕd played with
mine.
ÒYes, that would be nice, wouldnÕt it?Ó Mistress answered. ÒUse a
strap, though. I want you to hit her as hard as you can, and a whip would
be to thin and cruel for that, at least on such a young child. She is not
even twenty yet, are you dear?Ó Mistress regarded Elizabeth lovingly but
with no temperament for letting her escape what must come.
ÒI am--I am-- I am 17!Ó Elizabeth squawked, a duck protestething to
much the Christmas feast.
HOLY JOEÕS HELP LINE
rich.sagall@pobox.com (Rich Sagall) writes: ÒI have a number of
issues of The Joe Bob Report and its precursor [We Are The Weird. ed.] that
I want to get rid of. (I am moving and the less I take the better.)
ÒAll I want is the postage - 55 cents. I don't have a list, but if you
are interested drop me a note.Ó
holy joe replies: This is a problem that I face myself. I get zines
for review, and I canÕt keep all of them. What to do? I have found this
solution to be Ôquick and dirty,Õ but effective: leave them at a bus stop.
There is a metal strip on bus stop benches in my area. If you sit down on
the bench, the back of your pants presses against the metal strip. What I
do is slip the base of a zine into the metal strip. This causes the zine to
stand up, leaning against the back of the bus stop bench, held by the metal
strip. The zine is displayed for all the public to see, just as if it were in
a magazine rack at a bookstore. I have found that homemade comics are
picked up and carried away. The Joe Bob Report, alas, was not popular.
Eventually the Joe Bob Reports fell to the grass and last I saw they were
lying underneath the bench.
AND IN THE END...
AOL JOKE OF THE MONTH
ÒI clicked on Steve CaseÕs monthly letter (to read it) and my AOL Online
Database was promptly corrupted.Ó - Andrew Roller
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-Naughty Naked Dreamgirls (Library of Congress ISSN: 1070-1427) is
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-END OF 119 EMISSION