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FUCK DECENCY
Issue No. 158
Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in
Amsterdam Damsels
Chapter Two
ÒI suppose this is where the rubber meets the road?Ó I asked,
playing coy.
ÒJust bend over it. YouÕve been whipped before,Ó Sheryl said
implacably, uncaringly. I heard them undressing behind me.
I bent forward. I let my bare heinie arch out behind me. I pressed
my tummy to the leather cushion, standing on tip-toe for the trestle was a
little too big for me. I reached down the front of the trestle and found a
grab bar. I clutched at it. I pressed my thighs tightly together and waited.
My gold coiffure curls dangled down from my head, pointing at the floor,
free of my face at last.
ÒOpen your legs!Ó Sheryl barked. I heard a whip crack behind me and
flinched, scared for a moment it had hit me. With mounting trepidation I
parted my thighs. ÒWider! I can hardly see what youÕve got there,Ó Sheryl
tormented me. I let her see the fulness of my fruit, my lightly haired
cunny, the pouting lips I so deeply wished Ted would find too inviting to
pass up.
SWIIIICK! The whip, lifted in a cracking ascent, skirted up the inside
of my thigh and grazed my cunny before snapping in the air above my
waiting heinie.
ÒYes, that is better. How wet you are in between your legs,Ó Sheryl
said. ÒTed, arenÕt you going to tie her?Ó
ÒOh yeah,Ó Ted answered. He approached me. I felt like a sacrificial
lamb waiting for the axe. His penis dangling between his legs, hard and
long and pulsing, he bent in his nudity and secured my wrists and ankles
with leather straps to the trestle.
ÒVery good,Ó Sheryl said. ÒRub yourself while I whip her. I donÕt
want you to get any ideas, looking at her bottom.Ó
ÒI might spill,Ó Ted warned.
ÒNo you wonÕt,Ó Sheryl replied. ÒYouÕre going to rub yourself and IÕm
going to rub myself and as soon as little Melody here has gotten what she
came for, youÕre going to thrust that lusty spear of yours into my cunt and
give me a baby.Ó
ÒYes, dear,Ó Ted sighed. It was a trembly-sigh, full of passion, much
like the ones that issued from my own throat as I waited for the whip to
fall. Oh, it would hurt so badly! I wanted their attention and yet I did not
want that whip cracking across my arse. IÕd caught a glimpse of it,
coming into the bedroom, looked away. It was a big horse whip, for big
girls. It had been coiled over the bedÕs headboard, waiting for me. Now I
could hear it slithering across the wooden bedroom floor behind me as
Sheryl began to tittilate herself with her fingers.
ÒGod, what a lovely white bottom!Ó Sheryl commented. ÒHow
sweetly she offers it.Ó
ÒWe are not the first to scorch it, IÕm afraid,Ó Ted commented.
ÒOh, you men! Always needing to be first,Ó Sheryl scolded. ÒWell,
donÕt be first tonight, sir. I expect you to cum in my cunny, not on her
fanny or across my thigh.Ó
ÒYes, sweetheart,Ó Ted replied.
ÒTurn around. I want to give you a few first to make sure you
behave,Ó Sheryl said.
I heard Ted comply. Suddenly there was a sharp crack and this big
tough policeman, who arrested thugs every day and sometimes got beaten
and hit by them, but took it as part of his duty, howled like a little boy.
Sheryl laughed and I heard TedÕs feet as he danced in place on the floor. I
spied a mirror, perhaps placed just for me, and found myself watching his
bell-like balls as they jangled between his legs.
ÒHereÕs another,Ó I heard Sheryl say, and I saw the whip streak in
and hit Ted from behind. He shouted and jumped and his big cock bounced
all around, stiff and hard and drooly, flicking his cum around the bedroom.
He caught his dick and massaged it furiously with his hand, though it
hadnÕt been hit at all, while not bothering to rub his bottom, which surely
burned like a hot parking lot.
ÒAnd another,Ó Sheryl crowed.
ÒYeeeeehooooch!Ó Ted yelled. He grabbed at his dick with both hands
and double-fisted it. Why was he rubbing his penis when it was his
bottom that hurt? I asked myself. But I had no time to find an answer, for
Sheryl, satisfied that Ted would do as she wished, turned to me. I saw her
gaze and her grin as she stepped out from behind him and I saw her arm
draw back.
We Interrupt This Story to Bring You
*******************************************************
B R E A K I N G N E W S
*******************************************************
THIS JUST IN: O.J. SimpsonÕs hairdresser believes Mr. Simpson
may have developed a hangnail on the big toe of his left foot.
LetÕs Go Live to Our Man in Le Anal for more:
(Our Man in Le Anal) (O.A.): ThatÕs right, readers! IÕm here in Le
Anal, L.A.Õs premier hairdressing salon for ex-celebrities who have
been kicked out of their old hairdresserÕs salon for committing a double
murder. Standing beside me is Alan Anal, proprietor of Le Anal, located
at 4759 Derriere Drive.
O.A. Hello, Mr. Anal. IÕm so glad you could share with our readers
your feelings regarding O.J.Õs alleged hangnail.
M.A. Yes, thank you. It deeply concerns me. I think it may need to
be trimmed. Of course, one wonders if the hangnail is a recurrent
problem for O.J. If it is, it could mean that when the hangnail is
present, and causing O.J. pain, his gait might be slightly altered,
thereby leaving a footprint that is not quite the normal one.
O.A. So if O.J. does indeed have a hangnail, its presence or
absence could shed light on the authenticity of any footprints that
might be linked to the case.
M.A. My thoughts exactly. Of course I could be wrong, but I am
glad that my hair salon will now have to be added to the Daily O.J. ÒSee
the SightsÓ Bus Tour.
O.A. Well, IÕm sure weÕll be back tomorrow with our regular panel
of experts to further comb the possibilities in this story. ThatÕs it for
now, readers. Remember, you heard it here first!
Now Back To Our Story
*******************************************************
STAY WITH FUCK DECENCY FOR CONTINUING O.J. COVERAGE!!!
*******************************************************
SWWWWWISH-CRACKKKK!
ÒEeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!Ó I cried out in an endless scream. My panties
dropped from my mouth. I sobbed out a gasp when my scream ended and
felt tears burst from my eyes. A bright scorching line of heat flared
across my buns and did not leave me. I tried to wiggle my ass but my
posture was so taught and enforced that I could barely move at all, save to
try to hump the cushion with my naked pussy.
Sheryl savored my pain. She waited while I sobbed and tried to
control the heat, vainly, that seared itself across my heinie. Ted rubbed
himself, watching me cry, listening to me beg incoherently to be let up.
My tears and sobs fouled my speech.
ÒShe needs something between her teeth,Ó Sheryl said to Ted. ÒQuit
playing with yourself and get a bit for her.Ó
ÒYes, dear,Ó Ted said with an eagerness in his voice. I knew it would
be a severe whipping if I needed a bit and I begged to be let off.
ÒOh please donÕt,Ó I said at last, finding my words again as I
struggled in my bonds, pulled taught over the wicked cherry wood trestle.
Ted ignored me and placed a bit forcefully between my teeth. It was wide
as his cock and it wrenched my lips wide apart. He tied it behind my head
with twin leather thongs that dangled helpfully from its ends.
ÒOkay, sheÕs bitted,Ó Ted told his wife.
ÒGood,Ó Sheryl replied. I heard the whip slither again across the
floor and then sing up and back and through the air. A flesh-shattering
blow reached my ears as I raised my chin and howled to heaven. My
bottom, so cute at dinner, received the blow helplessly, seared by it, burnt
by it, a bright red welt forming where moments before IÕd been pretty and
pure, cream hinds turning beet red.
With a slow deliberate sadism Sheryl took her time whipping me.
There was no rush, from her perspective, unless her husband threatened to
spill himself. Ted rubbed himself gently, I noted in a mirror, on a rare
moment when IÕd found my mind again amidst the bottom-burning pain. He
wanted to last at least as long as I did. But I had no choice. I was far
from pleasure now, my cunny still honeyed and drippy, but my ass so deep
in pain that I could think of nothing but it.
A half hour passed. Sheryl gave me a break. She untied my bit and
bathed my lips with champagne, urging me to drink from the neck of a
bottle. Most of it spattered on the floor, wetting my sex-moistened
panties.
ÒDrink, darling, it will lessen the pain a little,Ó Sheryl cooed. She
lifted my chin sympathetically and poured the champagne as best she
could down my throat. I remained bent over the trestle, a small animal
tied up for slaughter.
The whipping resumed. I tasted new depths of pain as the horsewhip
seared its way across my flesh. Sheryl landed several blows on my back
and thighs to give my bottom (or what was left of it!) a rest.
Suddenly the attention veered from myself to Sheryl. Ted announced
that he was on the brink of cumming and she dropped her whip and led him
quickly to their bed. The covers already drawn back, she plopped down on
it and spread herself for him.
ÒImpregnate me with your child,Ó Sheryl hissed at him.
ÒYesss,Ó Ted answered. He mounted her and swiftly thrust himself
into her waiting dell. As I lay sobbing over the trestle the sounds of their
lovemaking tormented my ears.
They were long about it. Ted had enormous fortitude. He rodded her
fiercely and deeply and did not spurt for what seemed the longest time,
despite SherylÕs whore-like encouragements, thrusting her hips up at him,
begging him, needing him, swearing that she would punish him if he didnÕt
release his seed at once into her.
When they were done they lay in the bed and talked and kissed and
caressed each other. They were like Olympic victors on some obscene
relay team. She felt pregnant, she told him. He assured her she must
certainly be. He grew hard again and he re-mounted her and gave her
another pounding.
Deep in the night, Ted rose and untied me. Sheryl lay sleeping in the
bed. I could not rise from the trestle, despite being untied, and he let me
hang over it. He brought balms and creams and ointments and smoothed
them over my still-burning flesh. His calloused palms punished my bottom
anew but I was grateful for the cream. When he was done, he found
himself hard again.
ÒDonÕt tell Sheryl,Ó he whispered to me. I cut off a sob by biting my
lip.
ÒYou have the right to remain silent,Ó he said, caressing my child-
like chin. Then he mounted me from behind, finding my slot, still wet with
my dew, renewed by his rubbings. He stuck himself into my tightness as
best he could and fucked me like a sack of potatoes, for I was too weak
too move. Thrusting his hairy belly and hips against my bottom tortured it
anew, but I longed for him. He got his entire length up me and did me for
what seemed like hours, for his desperation was gone now. Rid of the
worst of his load, he could pleasure himself in me without spurting,
despite my girlish tightness and my infant-like sobs. At last, as morning
approached and Sheryl tossed in the bed, threatening to wake, Ted spurted
his seed deep inside me. I received him gratefully. He kissed my face and
left me just as Sheryl opened her eyes.
ÒMmmm, did you fuck me last night?Ó she asked. She gazed up at the
ceiling, lying listlessly in bed. She felt her sex. ÒI hurt.Ó
ÒYes, I fucked you last night,Ó Ted answered. He stole into bed
beside her and kissed her.
ÒOh, yes. Now I remember. How is that poor girl doing? WhatÕs her
name?Ó
ÒMelody,Ó Ted replied.
ÒWe must put some cream on her bottom,Ó Sheryl said, sitting up.
ÒI already have,Ó Ted answered.
I left them later that day, after breakfast. My bottom was not
irremedially ruined, just welted. Sheryl told me the welts would sink
back into my skin in a week or so. I got into the cab that came for me
with an excess of wiggling, was forced to sit on my hip.
ÒWhere to?Ó the cabman asked. He noticed my odd posture in the
back seat but said nothing about it.
ÒThe airport,Ó I gasped.
ÒYou are leaving our wonderful country?Ó he said, noticing I had not
the typical Dutch accent to my English.
ÒI am,Ó I breathed.
ÒItÕs a long flight. I hate sitting on those transatlantic flights.
Much better to take a short hop to Italy or to Sweden.Ó
I considered. ÒYouÕre right,Ó I said. ÒHow about London? Is that a
long flight?Ó
ÒNope,Ó he said. ÒHave you ever seen the Tower of London? Pretty
cool, but not for the people they kept there.Ó
I gasped, tried to sit on my heinie. I barely managed it. ÒNever mind
London, then,Ó I said. ÒDo you have a phone?Ó
ÒSure,Ó he said. He lifted a cellphone up from the seat beside him.
ÒCall the airport,Ó I said, pausing to draw a breath as my injured
bottom settled into the seat. The cab hit a bump and I gasped. The driver
gazed at me, at my bra-less breasts inside my white blouse that jiggled. I
wanted to lift my hands to the little blue jacket I wore and button it over
my blouse but I had to keep them pressed flat to the seat to help out my
bottom. ÒCall the airport, and book me a flight straight to Utah.Ó
ÒUtah?Ó the driver asked. ÒThereÕs no Tower of London in Utah, or
much else. Just a big inland sea of EpsomÕs Salt.Ó
ÒI know, but thatÕs what I need just now,Ó I replied.
THE END
Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in
Vegas Vixen
Chapter One
I told myself it was just another party, but I knew it wasn't. Jeff
was the reason I was here, with his broad shoulders and his sandy
locks. That broad, easy grin drew me in like a net does a butterfly. It
took in others too, especially Kali. I'd always been on the shy side, and
now I found myself contending with a girl who was just the opposite.
What luck. I squared my shoulders as best I could as Jeff punched the
doorbell. His palm rested lightly on my hips. I wished it was heavier,
exerting more pressure. Then I could tell myself this was all happening
against my will. And it would mean that I belonged to him. But I knew
I was here because he was here, and Kali was here.
The jacket of the female who answered was cut daringly low. Her
miniskirt, apparently in some warped attempt at compensation, was
cut too high. She greeted us with delighted enthusiasm and a moment
later we were inside.
Have you ever been inside one of those really lavish suites in Las
Vegas? The ones at the tops of the casinos with two stories,
chandeliers, baby grands. Well, this was one of them, and it took my
breath away. I must admit I do love parties. I'm such a gab. We were
ushered by the self-appointed hostess down a hall walled with glass on
its far side. The desert city stretched out below, sparkling. A hundred
thousand gems twinkled up at me, blindly. The glass was for our
benefit, not theirs. It permitted only one-way viewing.
In a pleasantly full room people in expensive but casual attire
traded bits of gossip, flavored by morsels of cheese and salmon. I felt
my breasts preceeding me as I entered. They were full and firm and
they were providing the ammunition against the competition tonight.
My shirt, red, was tight as a slip. I wore no bra and fretted now,
wondering just how visible my nipples might be...
GOLLIWOGG
Copyright 1996 by Alan Freer
PHOENIX
Passing through Arizona desert,
Wogg looks through cactus spine
at the sun
swears he sees Crow--
a feathery ball of flame.
AND IN THE END...
HOMO ERECTUS MEETS HOMO SAPIENS
ÒIn most American households, the only people who understand how to
program modern electronic devices are the children. So the V chip will
presumably have to be managed by the very people it is meant to
control.Ó
- Time, January 6, 1997, pg. 48.
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