Andrew Roller Presents
FUCK DECENCY
Issue No. 120
Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in
Holland Hunnies
Chapter One
ÒWah!Ó Elizabeth shouted as mistress slapped her bottom with her
hand.
ÒYou are nothing of the sort, dear. You are nineteen, I am sure of it.
Is she not, Mark?Ó Mistress said. Her boyfriend nodded. His face was
grim but he was enduring his blissful agony on the post well. He knew not
whether he wanted to cum or not, only that his huge engorged organ was
bothering him mightily, throbbing and pulsing and waving about cockily,
hungry for pussy, hungry to spend. Rob meanwhile was newly inspired, his
own rod rising quickly. In minutes he would be ready to rejoin us. We
might torture him then too, and he knew it. And the thought made him
harder still.
I fetched a strap from the wall, a broad one that would allow me to
give her many strokes. Elizabeth, her hair tousled, looked back at me over
her shoulder. Her face was still dewy with expended sperm. Rob was
making more for her. She would have a plaster sperm-mask made of her
face before daybreak, I thought.
ÒNo! Please! IÕm sorry! WhoooooOH!Ó Elizabeth howled. Without
remorse I slammed the first stroke of the belt into her bottom, walloping
her hard as I could with it. It was flat leather, not the buckle. I held that
in my fist. Even I was not that wicked.
ÒAgain. Harder,Ó Mistress encouraged.
I swung in again. ElizabethÕs hiney took the blow, her hips rocked,
her bottom cheeks pressed in and rebounded. A red splurge spread across
them, they wobbled sweetly.
ÒA little harder.Ó Mistress advised.
Again I drew my hand, my arm back. I swung in fiercely, slapped her
fully across both cheeks. Elizabeth nearly jumped to the ceiling, or
wished to, her ankles straining at their bonds.
ÒYes, good. Now that you have tested the limits of your strength and
know what you can do, now that you are no longer afraid, ease off a little,
give her broad swathing strokes, harsh but not evil. She can stand the pain
and her bottom can suffer the punishment. It is just fat, nothing else. You
are only using a strap. Give her what she deserves and make her remember
that Holland was not, after all, utterly boring.Ó With MistressÕ patter of
encouragement in my ear I slung in two more sweeping strokes. Elizabeth
hooted and lost her composure, began sobbing. Her tears mingled with my
boyfriendÕs sperm.
ÒOh, stoppp!Ó Elizabeth called out to us. She waggled her tushy,
hoping to shed the sting of the strap as a dog sheds off water. Mistress
walked over to her, looked directly into her imploring brown eyes. She
drew back her hand and slapped Elizabeth right across her cheek, though I
noticed the blow landed less harshly than MistressÕ exaggerated hand-
sweep might have implied. Both womensÕ bosoms shook.
Elizabeth looked shocked for a moment. Just before she was about
to bawl forth new tears, Mistress caught her face in a gripping delicate
hand, squishing her cheeks together and making her mouth pucker out
between them. She kissed the girl, then looked at her tear stained face
with open admiration. ÒYou look beautiful when youÕre crying!Ó Mistress
told Elizabeth. She licked her lips, her own lips, for upon contact with
ElizabethÕs sheÕd picked up traces of my boyfriendÕs sperm.
Elizabeth did look beautiful, I thought, weighing the strap in my
palm, waiting for their tableau to finish. Of course, she looked just as
beautiful, in my eyes, when not crying, but to have mentioned that might
have abated the whipping.
ÒYou shall strap me one day if IÕm not careful enough to avoid it, you
delicious minx,Ó Mistress consoled Elizabeth, giving her a second kiss,
tasting more sperm. She did not mean by force, either, I guessed, for
Elizabeth had a tawny strength about her that might have posed a
challenge even for Rob or Mark. You could not readily tell it, looking at her
slim, supple arms, modelÕs arms, widest at the joints with bare flesh and
bone in between. But IÕd watched her bind Mark, seen how sheÕd overcome
his momentary reservations and struggles. Perhaps sheÕd learned karate
as a little girl, or judo, something that left no traces in the bodyÕs
formation but gave it learning and depth of strength all the same.
Mistress whisked herself away from Elizabeth, licking her lips once
more to taste the residue of sperm sheÕd picked up in kissing her, and
ordered me to begin again.
In the cool of our private dungeon Elizabeth gave a hip-wriggling
display of her over-warmed posterior. And I was the one who was doing it
to her--me, a complete novice in the art of Òbasting the bottom,Ó as
Mistress chose to refer to it, whispering in my ear that I could make her
ass as Òwell doneÓ as I wished.
ÒOh! I do not want to hurt her!Ó I replied. And indeed my strokes,
hard as I might have tried to make them, had been awkward at best. She
was quite reddened in the rear, but injured nowhere. I noticed that her
Òbottom basting,Ó due entirely to me, was arousing my precious boyfriend
in a major way. Instead of Ògetting evenÓ with Elizabeth, as I imagined
myself to be doing at first, I was merely creating in my boyfriend a desire
to fuck her! His cock, fully erect now, quavered with every blow of the
belt on ElizabethÕs tender bottom. It seemed somehow mentally connected
to her ass, its stiff quivering most pronounced when she yahooed and
flexed her cheeks.
Suddenly I threw the belt down. ÒOh! I can do no more! It is doing no
good!Ó I cried. Mistress knew exactly what I meant. She took my
boyfriend by his hand and drew him cock-quivering to ElizabethÕs
wriggling fanny.
ÒFeel, honey,Ó she said, more intimate than ever with my man. ÒPut
your hands to her seat and feel the lusciousness of the warmth that the
whip has created there. Watch your penis! Do not stab her with it.Ó
Trembling, my Rob grabbed at ElizabethÕs rounded ass. He gripped her
twins cheeks in his big palms and stilled her squirmings. Captured thus,
she could not move. But her breasts, still free, shook wilfully, as if to
make up for the loss of movement in her behind. Rob rammed his cock into
her furrow, letting it jut up betwixt the offered cheeks, the head
protruding toward the ceiling like some spear, its tip glistening with pre-
cum. Up and down the spear moved as Rob shafted it between the painfully
clenching cheeks of ElizabethÕs ass. He held her tightly, possessively with
his hands. Mistress slipped forward to where ElizabethÕs boobies jostled,
grabbed at her nipples, pinching them. She was utterly contained. Nothing
could move, save the threshing of her pretty head, its long chestnut locks
streaming over her back like rivulets of glossy water. Back and forth,
back and forth her head moved, as Mistress milked her tits with her
fingers and RobÕs cock jutted up and down twixt her close-held cheeks.
I felt angry at my boyfriendÕs lust for Elizabeth. Not bothering to
pick up the belt, I stepped forward and slapped his hard buttocks with my
hand. He clenched them, otherwise he did not relent in any way, his
simulated fucking of her ass crack continued unabated. With a flurry of
handspanks I disciplined him as best I could.
ÒNaughty! Naughty, bad boy!Ó I cried, tears welling in my eyes. I felt
frustrated, yearning yet unfulfilled, and yet my boyfriend had his manhood
wedged in the fanny of another woman! RobÕs only response was to thrust
more eagerly.
Mistress, with a better view of RobÕs true condition, saw his face
grimace and his cockhead shiver uncontrollably. He could stand no more. I
had brought him to the brink, rather than causing him to desist. Mistress
swept her hand down to the floor and retrieved a bottle of baby oil that
had somehow been left there, perhaps by other players. She squirted a
little in the air, to cleanse the tip, and then directed the stream onto the
head of RodÕs surging organ. He watched grim-faced as the slick oil
coated his cockhead, sending spasms of uncontrolled pleasure through his
loins.
ÒQuick! Get it inside her,Ó Mistress commanded him. With lust-
bleared eyes Rob pulled his shaft from ElizabethÕs enclosing cheeks. He
drew back, pointed his arrow, then thrust forward at her little nether
hole. A disciplining spank from me impelled him forward, helping him to
do the very thing I wished to prevent.
ÒAugh! Ugh! Augh!Ó Rob sounded animalistic as he eagerly raped
ElizabethÕs ass, desperate to get himself as deep into her as often as
possible before all was lost. Elizabeth screamed at his rapid entry but
then settled into little mewling whimpers. Rob gained some footage and
then withdrew, sank in again, both of them moist from their adventures in
the dungeon. Mistress helpfully placed a finger to ElizabethÕs clit and
brought her to the precipice sheÕd sought since she first drew down her
panties within the chamberÕs cold unfeeling walls. Entombed deep into
mortar, a catacomb fit only for the dead, Rob spurted his lifegiving sperm
up into ElizabethÕs hot, wildly thrashing body. A ringmistress, our Miss
Wentworth helped both of them along, moulding them together, her hand
slipping back to impress its fingers into RobÕs ass, whilst her other hand
now slipped up to press in on ElizabethÕs soft belly.
For his part, watching Rob fuck his girlfriend, watching the sluicing
motions that were now climaxing, Mark was not inactive. With every
inthrusting drive of Rob up his wifeÕs tender ass, Mark thrust forth his
own cock into the air, fucking, though he had nothing but the cool of
dungeon to impale. I turned, watched mesmerized as his tool rent the air.
He looked so precious yet so futile, his cock erect beyond belief, his tight
little sac of balls hugely swollen by his unspent sperm, carefully tucked
between his legs for its maximum protection.
ÒWhatsa matter, little boy? Did your cock get hard last night and
you werenÕt able to get it off?Ó I called to him, teasingly. He looked at me
grim-faced. He was not a little boy, I knew, but a man, with a manÕs
needs. It was wrong to deny him. He must be milked nightly at his young
age, there was no escaping it. I hesitated, loving his torture, the rude
jabbing of his tool, so huge and terrible, so hopeless. I was female. I was
not meant to hurt men but to serve them. My womb scolded me. My
nipples, thorns upon my breasts, offered themselves nurturingly. I grazed
my belly with my fingertips. It felt empty.
Leaving my boyfriend to his self-appointed duties, I turned to Mark.
I reached between his thighs and caught his balls and undid the choking
cord which held them.
ÒItÕs time you came too, sir,Ó I breathed. My words were randy,
lusty. His balls, bloated, fell into my palm. I squeezed the nuts, he
groaned. I squeezed again. I was a policewoman searching a suspect,
looking for treasure. ÒDo you wish to spend the family jewels, sir?Ó I
asked. He looked at me, his eyes rolling down with unbridled sexuality.
ÒMount me, bitch,Ó he ordered, though he was bound to the post and I
was utterly free. Slavelike I did as he asked. I stood on tiptoe, opened my
thighs, grabbed hold of his organ with both hands. I brought myself
forward and pushed him into me. Gasping, I felt him enter. Freely I rutted
myself on his horn of plenty. He filled me, impaled me. I drove myself
back and forth on him, savoring each inthrusting stroke. He split me and I
could not stop myself.
When we had exhausted ourselves in our twin couplings, Rob in
Elizabeth and myself upon Mark, each adulterous, Mistress led us out. She
led us down the hall. We were naked, our clothes left behind, perhaps to
be retrieved as souvenirs by those whoÕd watched us. We barely glanced at
them as we passed, we were absorbed in our own fulfillment still,
uncaring of others. Nude and dripping with our own lust we followed
Mistress, herself still swaying randily with unfulfilled needs, prettily
contained. Her hips rolled alluringly, sweetly, my gait was awkward as
was ElizabethÕs. Mark and Rob walked like soldiers just off the
battlefield. Their steps were slurred, as ours were. Blindly we followed
mistress, not caring, not protesting. She led and we followed like
passive, satisfied sheep.
A shower. Within a small, tiled room. Mistress turned on the water
and we all bathed together. At first we just stood, letting the water run
over us. It was warm, nice. Someone found soap, mistress perhaps, and
we began pleasurably scrubbing each other with our bare hands. We
revived ourselves in the spray. Mistress had to turn it to cold to settle us
down at the end.
We stepped from the shower, dried each other with clean, rough
towels. Mistress took us into an adjacent room. It too was small. Its
walls were of oak. There was a little cabinet there, a hairdrier, lipstick,
toiletries. And a potty was in a small alcove.
ÒWe shall go swimming, out back in the pool,Ó Mistress said. She
was in charge of our pleasure now, our vacation in its boredom had fallen
completely into her hands. ÒThere will be strangers. Here, put these on.
You may then undress as you please, or not, depending on what you see. It
will give you modesty anyhow.Ó She handed us the tiniest of bikinis. I
tried on the bra. Its cups were useless, covering only little triangles of
flesh, leaving the mounds of my boobs largely uncovered. But I tied the
top on anyway. It was a game, I think. A game of hide and seek, the
private parts version.
My panties proved no more secure in guaranteeing any portion of my
modesty than the bra had. They were flimsy, easily torn. They failed to
cover all of my bush in front. They left my bottom cheeks bulging out in
back, my ass crack showing much of itself. Along the sides there was
nothing, just slender ties that I made into pretty bows.
The men fared no better. Their cocks, hard again, could not be
contained by the briefs mistress gave them. The heads shot up out of the
front of their suits. Below their balls, refilling already, bulged manfully,
threatening to burst out between their legs.
Mistress gave herself a suit no better than ours. ÒAh well,Ó she
sighed. ÒDo the best you can with them, mine is no better. Perhaps a
different swimsuit supplier will have to be gotten next time.Ó There was
a gleam in her eyes. I doubted she would change suppliers. She gave us
jelly heels, mine pink, ElizabethÕs yellow. The men were given flipflops.
We put on sunglasses, visors. We each took a towel and a bottle of tanning
lotion. Mistress offered me an innertube and the men helped me inflate it.
Into the bright sunshine we stepped moments later, fresh from the
dungeon. We were in mistressÕ private backyard. Tall evergreens
protected it from prying eyes. But there were other guests present,
swimming, sunning themselves. Heads turned, some listless, others wide
awake. We were admired as we walked idly to a foursome of chaise
lounges. I looked around at the other guests. They were mostly young, all
handsome. Some wore bikinis, others nothing. Reaching the chaise
lounges we put down our things, spread out our towels.
Mistress lay down in her chaise lounge like a tigress returning to her
lair; tawny, supple, ravishingly beautiful. She retained her sunglasses and
visor, but, getting comfy, thrust her bikini panties down to her knees. She
left them there, an invitation perhaps. Rob, still standing, squirted suntan
lotion onto the white band of skin that ran through mistressÕ pussy. She
looked up at him, smiled. With long-fingered hands she soothed the
offered lotion into her skin. Rob dropped down his shorts and squirted
lotion onto his dick. Then he lay down on his own chaise lounge, offering
his organ up to the sun god.
ZINE REVIEWS
by holy joe
Dynatron #2, $2.00. Digest, unstapled, many pages. Joe Eibe, J-A-G
Picture Production, 650 Pacific Ave., Willows, CA 95988.
http://www.snowcrest.net/rbluff/jag/
Review: This is a superhero story. It features Transformers-type
characters who battle against nefarious forces of evil. With
characters such as ÒCol BrickhamÓ, who works at ÒMission ControleÓ, I
must admit I wasnÕt able to wade through every panel of this comic.
But the lines are straight and clean and the panels are all neatly drawn.
ItÕs a very detailed comic. And it seems to add some new insights to
the Transformer state-of-being. (Sensory overload, for instance,
suffered by a human who is transforming himself from his flesh-and-
blood state into his Òarmored form.Ó)
I no longer share the rosy view of the world represented in this
comic. But I donÕt begrudge those who do. If you like straightforward
superhero comics, buy it!
Museum Replicas Limited, #43, $2.00. Digest, full color, many pages.
1-800-883-8838.
Review: This is the best damn catalog I ever got in the mail. I
almost threw it away. But, fortunately, I opened it first. Whoa! All
kinds of Medieval gear is portrayed in these pages. Everything from a
ÒGlaiveÓ to a ÒPeasant Blouse.Ó If you are a writer, or a wargamer, or
just a fan of Medieval times, you will absolutely love this catalog.
Museum Replicas promises that their swords are Òjust as functional as
the originalsÓ from which they were inspired. No doubt Bill Clinton
will outlaw the possession of swords in his second term, but until
then, youÕll find a handy arsenal of weaponry in this catalog. And who
knows? A well-placed knife saved the Roman Republic from Julius
Caesar.
HOLY JOEÕS HELP LINE
The U.S. Customs Service REPORT CHILD PORNOGRAPHY! campaign
writes, (in part): ÒThe protection of our children and the elimination of
this illegal material depends on all of us to do are part. Please report
violations you see. You can make a difference!Ó
holy joe replies: A dictionary could make a difference here. ÒAreÓ
is not the correct word for Òall of us to do are part.Ó The correct word is
Òour.Ó The decline and fall of Rome was not marked by the proliferation of
Ôchild pornography.Õ It was marked by poor art, poor statuary, and the
decline of such things (in Latin) as the difference between ÒareÓ and
Òour.Ó
AND IN THE END...
ÒIn Germany they came first for the Communists, and I didnÕt
speak up because I wasnÕt a Communist. Then they came for the Jews,
and I didnÕt speak up because I wasnÕt a Jew. Then they came for the
trade unionists, and I didnÕt speak up because I wasnÕt a trade unionist.
Then they came for the Catholics, and I didnÕt speak up because I was a
Protestant. Then they came for me, and by that time no one was left to
speak up.Ó - Martin Niemoeller
----------------------- Fuck Decency! -----------------------
-Free Fuck Decency e-mail subscriptions: send (18 or up) age
statement to: roller666@aol.com
-To unsubscribe: Send $100.00 to The North American Man/Boy Love
Association, P.O. Box 174, Midtown Station, New York, NY 10018.
-My ftp site is: members.aol.com/roller666 Diapergirls! (CuntCastle2d)
-My ftp site is: members.aol.com/roller6666 CuntCastle3b here!
-My ftp site is: members.aol.com/nnd666 NudieNursery5 here!
-Back issues at Usenet newsgroup: alt.poop?
-or send e-mail to: file.request@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. ISIL home page: http:// www.liberta.com/isil/home.html
-Naughty Naked Dreamgirls (Library of Congress ISSN: 1070-1427) is
copyright 1996 and a trademark of Andrew Roller.
-END OF 120 EMISSION