Andrew Roller Presents
FUCK DECENCY
Issue No. 188
Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in
Private Places
Chapter One
ÒSo let us have no more of panties while you are here, girls,Ó Ms.
Highbourne announced. ÒTake them right off. You will not wear anything
while you are here below the waistline, save boots, perhaps. Your pussies
and bottoms are to be kept utterly free, so my friends when they visit can
admire you. Here girls are admired for what really counts, their wombs,
and the entrances to them, not for silly things like grades or poetry. WeÕll
practise the arts a little here, to keep you alert, and teach you good
manners, but your bodies come first always.Ó As she spoke, with master
looking on, Barbi and I freed ourselves of the bikinis, pulling them the rest
of the way down our legs and over the spikes of our high heels. Ms.
Highbourne directed us to a nearby grill. We walked over to it and tossed
our bikinis into the coals, as requested. With our bare, hind cheeks
twitching nervously we watched as the hot coals burned our panties to a
crisp, leaving nothing but ash.
ÒStir the coals,Ó Ms. Highbourne announced, still seated at table
behind us. ÒMake sure there is nothing left of such needless attire.Ó Barbi
unhooked a poker from the side of the grill and jabbed at the coals. A
breeze plucked at the ash of our suits and wafted it up. A moment later
there was nothing, just coals, bright and hot and scary.
ÒYour tops too, girls,Ó Ms. Highbourne said. ÒUntie them and toss
them in. Then we shall go inside and begin our lessons.Ó With trembling
fingers, almost unable to get hers undone, Barbi loosed her top, as I did
mine. We chucked them into the grill, watched them quickly burn, and then
Barbi stirred the coals again to mark their passing.
Ms. Highbourne stood and beckoned us to follow. Utterly nude,
feeling queasy in my stomach, as I know Barbi did, I let her escort us into
the dimness of her home, through a sliding glass door, into a living room,
then down a hall. She opened a door and led us down steps into a chilly
cellar. Master, when I turned, was nowhere to be seen. I glanced back
over my shoulder, was shocked he had not followed.
Mistress gained the floor of the cellar and turned. Barbi descended
the last few steps and mistress, as I sensed I should call her now, took
BarbiÕs hand and lightly drew her from the last remaining step. I
followed, feeling like a bride as mistress offered me her hand and I
accepted it.
ÒWe will begin with a simple caning,Ó mistress said. I gulped. Barbi
reached out, took my hand. Quickly mistress began undressing herself.
ÒBarbi, you have been caned before, but perhaps not strictly,Ó mistress
said. I watched as her clothes fell away, revealing a figure Anna Nicole
Smith would have been proud of. Tall, well-formed, with sleek limbs and
sumptuous breasts that men would die to pillow their faces or their cocks
in. She had few things on under her dress, despite its Puritanical color
and cut. In moments she was naked before us. She drew back a curtain
along the basement wall, just feet from where the steps let out. There
upon the wall, to my gasping surprise, was a collection of whips and
paddles and other implements of bodily harm.
Mistress picked up a long, swishy cane and flexed it. Her fingers
were narrow, delicate. It seemed odd to see such a horrid thing as a cane
between her fine hands! I felt my bottom cheeks clenching. A torrent of
butterflies rose up in my tummy.
ÒOh why?Ó I asked. Barbi squeezed my hand tighter.
ÒI can go first if you like,Ó Barbi whispered, still facing mistress,
but intending her words for me.
ÒDonÕt worry, I wonÕt draw blood today,Ó mistress told us. She
smiled a possessive smile. ÒIt is quite important that you both submit to
me in this way. WeÕll do it on a daily basis. You know yourselves how
competitive we girls can be. Well, that wonÕt be tolerated here. I am the
mistress, and you shall call me such. Perhaps you already are, internally,
without even noticing it. Hmmm?Ó She directed her gaze at Barbi, looking
at her quite directly now, eye to eye, now that master wasnÕt amongst us.
We were just girls, alone. Yet I had to believe that master, somehow, was
watching me, loving every intake of my breath as it made my frightened
titties jiggle. ÒWe will be naked together a lot,Ó mistress continued.
ÒAfter all, IÕm as beautiful as you are, just a few years older, thatÕs all. I
have no reason to loathe my appearance. I relish the feel of my body in the
cool air, with nothing between me and whatever might happen! Of course,
as mistress, IÕll be clothed when we entertain guests, and I control
everything that goes on here. Now, who shall it be? Do you see that
sawhorse there? Get a pillow if you wish it for your tummy, and bend
right over, for I donÕt intend to wait all day. I am being paid by the hour,
girls!Ó
Nervously, obviously wishing this all could somehow be avoided, but
knowing it was her masterÕs wish, Barbi let go my hand and walked slowly
to an innocuous (to me, at least!) wooden trestle set near a corner of the
room. When she reached it she stooped and picked up a leather pad that lay
at an angle beside one of its legs. She put the pad on top of the trestle
and, after taking a moment to brush back her hair, bent over so that her
bottom mooned us.
I almost broke out giggling. A girl like Barbi, showing us her ass
like that! Then I watched as mistress approached Barbi with an ominous,
cat like prance in her step, stalking garden robbins and their little
nestling eggs. Mistress swished her cane once. Barbi spread out her hands
and took hold of a post that ran way down between the legs of the trestle.
I saw her hair touch the floor, then fall on it even more completely as she
bowed very low, her legs straight and her ass high.
ÒOpen your legs, girl!Ó Mistress scolded. ÒI must see your cupcake,
and you must feel its total vulnerability. Pray that the tip of the cane
doesnÕt catch you there!Ó
ÒOh, please donÕt!Ó Barbi begged, obediently opening her legs so that
all she had to show was exposed to us. A sweet fig, plump and perhaps
already juicy, hiding within the incurved cheeks of her lowest bottom-
parts. Had I a penis I would have leapt up to her and jammed myself into
her. As it was, my finger felt suddenly, mischievously itchy. I had never
felt such thoughts before! Is this what my master meant by Ôtraining?Õ
ÒFury, have you ever seen a girl caned before?Ó mistress asked me,
turning casually to face me, brushing her hair back and enjoying the
prominence of her naked, quivering breasts, her nipples totally hard now.
ÒNoooo,Ó I answered softly.
ÒWell observe closely, my dear, because you are next,Ó mistress
said. ÒAnd donÕt think of running up the steps. The door locks upon being
shut, and only I have the key. If I have to chase you around the cellar and
catch you when itÕs your turn you will not sleep tonight from the pain of
it.Ó
Mistress turned to Barbi. ÒI do hope youÕre old enough not to require
tying,Ó she said.
ÒI-I hope so too,Ó Barbi replied in a quavering voice. She was clearly
scared about what was about to happen. Her bottom was creamy white,
flawless. I sensed it might be a different color in a minute.
ÒI want you to think of all the bad things youÕve done,Ó mistress
said. Idly she whisked the cane close to BarbiÕs bottom, watching merrily
as the girl flinched at every near-miss. ÒThink of how naughty you were
this morning, for instance, telling master you didnÕt want to come. How
rude!Ó
Suddenly the cane swished right in against BarbiÕs seat and the girl
yelped and jumped. A moment later she was standing, her hands at her
bottom, rubbing it protectively, feeling the newly injured flesh in her
hands.
ÒHurt, didnÕt it?Ó mistress asked her. ÒI thought you hadnÕt had a
proper caning before. ÒYouÕll note this switch is nice and thin, to give
long fiery marks that a girl can take back to her husband with her when
sheÕs done. YouÕre not married, of course, but you may as well be, seeing
how close you are to your master. DonÕt you think you deserve this, you
spoiled little brat, making him work so hard for you, to buy to jewels and
treasures and things, even risking his life to save you from your whoring
ways?Ó
ÒIÕm sorry,Ó Barbi sniffled. She lowered her eyes, but kept her hands
over her heinie.
ÒOf course you arenÕt,Ó mistress answered. ÒOr youÕd be back over
the bar already.Ó She advanced, took Barbi by the hair, and with a yelp
from the girl put her right over. ÒGrab the post, or IÕll tie you to it,Ó she
ordered. At last Barbi took hold of the crossways post that was provided
as a kind of handhold for girls, the trestleÕs one concession to them,
besides the pillow for their tummies. How I wished the pillow was for
oneÕs bottom instead! ÒYou are special,Ó mistress said to Barbi. ÒWeÕll be
having a party in a few nights and I want you to be ready for it. IÕll whip
you harder then, for the pleasure of men, who enjoy seeing a saucy,
privileged girlÕs hinds jump under the cane. Yes, and there will be women
too, who delight in seeing someone so young be brought to heel, after
having to put up with the likes of you outdoing them at the beach, in your
little nothing bikini.Ó
SWIIICK! In came the cane again. Barbi shouted, jumped up. ÒOooh, I
really canÕt do this!Ó she declared, her hands flying to her hiney again,
assuaging it with quick, brisk rubs. She kept her eyes lowered, knowing
she had failed.
ÒVery well, itÕs handcuffs for you then,Ó mistress answered. ÒIÕm
sorry that youÕve made me have to play the policewoman, but what is to be
cannot be helped.Ó Mistress walked with sedate, easy steps to the wall,
where she plucked a pair of handcuffs from a little dresser that stood just
in front of it. I saw the dresser for the first time now, hardly noticing it
before, with all the awful instruments of flagellation hanging from it.
Upon the dresser were such obviously necessary items for a place such as
this: ointments, suppositories, and condoms in a flowered bouquet. It was
quite a pretty arrangement, I thought, given the dire purpose of such
things. To penetrate girls, and help them get over awful punishments on
the trestle.
Mistress took a policewomanÕs hat from the wall and set it atop her
head with a look of renewed determination. She walked back to Barbi, her
tits jiggling as she went, healthy and free. I wished to bury myself in
them and beg forgiveness, forestall my own promised fate over the
trestle.
ÒPerhaps your master is watching, waiting to see you properly
disciplined for all those trifling little things youÕre always doing, any
female is always doing, to the man she loves,Ó mistress told Barbi.
ÒInsisting too much, whining, complaining. YouÕll be better behaved when
you leave here. Much better!Ó Mistress made Barbi hold out her hands,
both palms up, wrists together. She buckled the handcuffs onto them, then
screwed them with a special key that ensured BarbiÕs palms remained
facing up. She turned Barbi to the trestle once more, and put her over
again. Barbi did not resist, seemed to take the whole procedure with a
sense of resignation now, perhaps accepting at last that her beloved
master had ordered this for her. I heard a click, and BarbiÕs ability to
move was no more. She might howl, or wriggle her buns, or even kick back
at mistress if she dared, with her spiked, still unbound feet, but as for
standing, it was quite impossible.
Mistress smiled to herself. She stepped back, measured off the
distance needed to begin. And then, without further ado, the cane sliced
in, and Barbi felt all her past naughtiness come stinging home.
When we finally came back up the steps, master was waiting for us.
We greeted him with our hands on our fannies, rubbing them, wincing at
their suffering. Both our cheeks were stained with tears. Our hair was
quite unkempt now, our wrists were marked where the handcuffs had held
us tight to the pole. IÕd discovered its ingeniousness: the cuffs had a
little clip at one end which, stretching between the wrists, the palms
facing out, could be attached to a clip on the crosswise post beneath the
trestle. It was downright nasty. Your arms were wrenched out and away
from you; any jumping in this position, bound over the trestle, threatened
to dislocate your shoulders. How awful it had been! I had thought I might
at least fight my bonds, strain against them, but even over the trestle I
had to strive to exercise restraint, for I could feel my shoulders wanting
to separate from the rest of me, and knew how terrible that would be.
When I met master again, I burst into tears, his punishment of me had been
so wicked. My shoulders almost dislocated, my wrists burning, and my ass
on fire, my breasts feeling like sacks of blubber that had been bounced all
over the place, without even a bra to contain and protect them! That at
least I knew now my mother was right about: a girl should wear a bra at
all times, lest her breasts sag. But, looking into masterÕs amused face, I
knew the chance of getting a bra for myself was about as remote as
retrieving my poor panties from the ashes of the grill.
ÒSome men just bring their wives for an afternoon whipping, a quick
one like youÕve had, girls, an hour, no more,Ó mistress said gaily to us,
knowing it would make us feel even more degraded. Before bringing us
upstairs sheÕd tucked a towel around herself, to discreetly hide her nudity
from master. I did not know if heÕd had a chance to watch us somehow,
suffering in the cellar. Even if he had, mistress at least was clothed
again, her beautiful body only available to his eyes when she was being
paid to punish us. As for us, we were naked as newborns, and I felt like
one, my bottom smarting at my first introduction to adult sex. I was still
a virgin, though, both vaginally and anally. How strange! My bottom
burning, my legs quivering, my bladder starting to feel the effects of my
breakfast sips, yet I was as pure as a nun as yet. Barbi, for her part,
instantly asked master, despite her tortured heinie, if she could relieve
herself someplace.
ÒWhy, you are just a female animal now,Ó mistress announced.
ÒSobbing, crying, your bikini quite gone. Just crouch here in front of me
and pee. Your master will not mind.Ó
ÒOhh, I canÕt!!!Ó Barbi gritted. Her hands held tightly to her ass as
she stood wobbly-kneed before all of us.
ÒKneel and pee,Ó master replied. ÒDo as your mistress tells you.
Why do you think IÕm paying her? Look, here are some other people coming
up just now, through the trees, they will not mind. Anyone who comes
here knows girls are being trained, including potty training. But you do
not deserve a potty yet, just as you do not deserve to have your neck go
free, or Fury to wear your collar.Ó
Barbi knelt then, awkwardly, her hands trembling as they touched
the living room rug. Mistress, sensing the time was due (the playing done)
fetched a small empty flowerpot and shoved it under the small space left
by BarbiÕs crouching derriere.
PISSS! I heard suddenly, as through the glass doors that led into the
living room came a pair of couples, each elegantly dressed, not in bikinis
as Barbi and I had been.
ÒSee? It is for training, my love,Ó a man told his wife, or perhaps
she was just his mistress. ÒYou will be well cared for here. But
reservations must be made. Ms. Highbourne is kept quite busy with all the
wayward wives in the city, and perhaps even here in this small town,
where she keeps house. IÕm sure there are schoolgirls too, like that one
there, holding her bottom, who are brought to her. Girls who have been
expelled to often from school, or run up their parentÕs phone bill chatting
on the Internet. All these females must be brought into line, but a man
canÕt do it, not really. HeÕd just hit her, brutally, like O.J., or worse, do
nothing, and be henpecked all his life. It takes a woman to properly train a
woman, one who herself was broken in by a husband, or lover, or father,
when she was an undisciplined lass. Is that not right, Ms. Highbourne?Ó
our modern Hamlet wannabe asked, interrupting his soliloquy to address
us.
ÒMost certainly,Ó Ms. Highbourne answered. ÒBarbi here is just
learning that she pees at her masterÕs permission and request, and not
otherwise. She will learn to hold herself in when it is needed, so that
long trips across the continent can be accomplished without frequent
stopping. Or she will have a very red bottom, if she cannot learn to train
her peehole. Stand up, Barbi! I donÕt hear any more pee coming out. Do you
think you are going to slip your whole self into the hole in that pot? I
think not! But your holes will have things slipped into them! Stand and
greet our new guests and tell them how grateful you are to have been
given a most necessary caning. There is no need to hold back. Explain it to
them and show them your once-fair ass, so these wives can begin to think
of their need for proper obedience to their husbands, instead of just
obeying when they are flattered by being taken out, or being bought
expensive trifles.
FEMINIST ALERT!
by holy cow
Once again, my fellow women, we are subjected to the utter
depravity of the male gender. Not only did they invent all the modern
technology that keeps us from getting Back to Nature, but they are posting
lots of things on the Internet that fail to comply with our Feminist
Ideology. For example, witness the following:
From: me@you.net
Date: Wed, 05 Feb 1997
While on vacation I was able to locate a guy in The Netherlands that has
almost every issue of Seventeen ever published. I purchased every one and
have scanned and archived them all. These and thousands of other pics can
be seen at: http://194.151.128.32/~meybro/archive.html
(I have not Òchecked outÓ this site, but if you have a stomach for
such things you might do so, at your own risk.)
WOMEN FIRST!
PRISON FOR MEN!
ÒPROTECTIONÓ FOR GIRLS!
Feminism IS the ANSWER!!!
AND IN THE END...
MODERN AMERICA
ÒYouÕre here to learn the catechism and do what youÕre told. YouÕre not
here to be asking questions.Ó
- Frank McCourt, AngelaÕs Ashes, pg. 118.
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-Naughty Naked Dreamgirls (Library of Congress ISSN: 1070-1427) is
copyright 1997 and a trademark of Andrew Roller. Work by others
copyright 1997 by the respective copyright holder.
-END OF 188 EMISSION