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Yes, girls! YouÕre ALWAYS welcome in holy joeÕs bathroom! Please,
shut the door. I respect your privacy!
Ooops! Time for my janitorÕs job at mall!
Andrew Roller Presents
FUCK DECENCY
Issue No. 208
Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in
Private Places
Chapter Five
ÒLet me fuck my wife before you do us,Ó Sam said with gentlemanly
reserve to the governor. The man reached for SamÕs penis and caught it
between his fingers. SamÕs penis looked massive within the governorÕs
fingers, as if he might break them off simply by wiggling his cock.
ÒUp the ass, then,Ó the governor answered.
ÒSam!Ó Jill cried. Her bottom was tense with fright. Sam asked for
some vaseline. Mistress came forward, offered him hers. Sam greased his
own dick while mistress, sharing the jar with him, lubed her pointing
finger in the goo and touched it to JillÕs anus. Jill trembled. Mistress
insinuated her finger just within JillÕs hole, making her buck.
ÒShe is ready,Ó mistress said. I glanced at JillÕs heinie. It was
squeezed tight as a drum. She was so frightened, despite her bravery
moments ago in locking me up and then herself.
Sam got behind his wife. Roughly he took her hips and drew her
fanny to him. I heard Jill gasp. Sam worked himself ruthlessly into her.
He was hungry, he was as afraid as she. But he hoped their mutual
sacrifice, humiliating themselves like this, might win them forgiveness.
ÒSam, I -Ó Jill began.
ÒJust relax as best you can,Ó Sam replied with a whisper, kissing
her shoulder. She bleated as he forced himself in deeper. I offered my
own hind cheeks, watching, unconscious of myself. I so wished to have
Sam, yet, had I thought about it, I would not want to suffer such a cock
being put up my bottom! And definitely not in front of all these natives!
Sam worked himself up JillÕs hineyhole, making her shudder, urging
her to unbunch her cheeks and take him as if they both were at home.
Helpfully mistress knelt beside them and began licking at their conjoined
parts, tickling JillÕs muff with her fingers. I saw mistress tear open her
blouse, so aroused was she at the spectacle.
ÒThank you, thank you, thank you, mistress!Ó Jill said happily, tears
coming to her eyes, as she found herself suddenly able to take her husband
more freely. Sam urged himself in and out now, eager to have his pleasure.
Suddenly he grunted. Jill squeaked as he pushed himself deeper than heÕd
yet gone. I saw them kiss, and he emptied himself into her bowels.
Sam removed his limpening shaft. ÒAlright, do your worst,Ó he said,
raising up his arms so that mistress herself could buckle his wrists into
the handcuffs.
ÒIÕll tend to your bottom afterward,Ó mistress told him. ÒBear up
and take it like a man.Ó She motioned for a soft wool cloth to be wrapped
round the post. ÒItÕs for the girls, but youÕll benefit too, I imagine,Ó she
smirked at Sam. His cock still had not lost all its hardness. He could have
gone a second time, I realised, and wished I might have taken him.
ÒGirls, this will hurt. YouÕve broken the law and you must pay for
it,Ó mistress declared. ÒYell as freely as you like. ThereÕs no one to hear
but the natives. WeÕre far from civilization, and its just you hear, in your
birthday suits, with nothing to save or protect you from the whip. Dance
about, beg, plead, it doesnÕt matter. All 39 lashes will be applied, all of
them on your pretty bottoms.Ó She drew back from us. She nodded to the
Indian with the bullwhip. I turned my head, frightened, hastily sizing up
my attacker. I saw him raise the whip. The end was frayed, tasseled from
age, as if many tourist girls had been brought here before me.
And then it fell. My bottom rebounded, smarting horribly. I trilled
out a cry of regret and he struck Jill next. She wiggled like a fish even as
I churned my cheeks to try to throw off the sting. Sam was next. He
hollared like the Indians in films, the real Indians laughing at us.
With butt-whacking certainty the whip fell again and again. There
was no pity in the Indian. We were just objects to him, to be strung up
and whipped as his master wished, for a few beads perhaps, or merely to
impress his fellow Indians with the thoroughness of his strokes.
I bit my lip, found my reserve gone in no time. I began sobbing. My
breasts heaved on my chest. My ass felt aflame. Jill wailed beside me.
Sam, somehow, remained stoic, only yelling now and then when a
particularly nasty cut caught him off guard.
The sun rose over the trees. Its hot rays fell upon my so recently
white bottom, now all red, smarting furiously. The Indian took his time,
savoring our cries, our hip waggling antics. He made the frayed end of the
whip lick up between my legs. I shouted as the whip touched my cunny,
hurting it, making me wish I was still at home, and in a one-piece, no less,
doing my summerschool homework. I strove to keep my legs together but
the blasting of the whip was too much for me, making me dance about,
showing my all to the Indians, who relished my torment.
The whipmaster taunted Sam, striking close to his balls, yet never,
in the end, quite touching them. Sam tried to stand with his legs together
but found the whipÕs blows yanked them apart, so basic and all-
encompassing was the pain from them, striking him right on his
fundament, making him dance as Jill and I danced.
----------------------------------------------------------------
A R E A D I N G F U N D has been established for Stephen Knox, imprisoned
in a federal penitentiary for ordering a swimsuit video featuring teenage
girls. To help provide books to Knox (formerly a Phd. candidate at Penn
State), send any amount to: Uncommon Desires Newsletter, P.O. Box 2377,
New York, NY 10185. Make checks payable to: Ophelia Editions.
----------------------------------------------------------------
Suddenly, it was over. I had not counted the blows. Had we gotten
all 39? I did not know. A bucket of water was drawn from an animal
drinking trough and splashed in turn on each of our fannies. We were
unshackled by mistress. Immediately my hands flew to my bottom. I
could barely touch it, yet I tried, to assuage the hurt. I viewed the world
through teary eyes. Jill clapped her own hands to her heinie, found she
could do little to help it, her hands stinging it anew. Sam let his wrists
be taken down and stood holding his balls. He was scared for them. The
whip had come so close, yet missed every time, but only deliberately so.
The Indian was a true marksman.
Our blonde hair falling over our eyes, Jill and I were escorted back
into the house. Our bosoms wobbled with every one of our gasping sobs. I
felt the dirt under my feet. Otherwise I was so sensuously clean, wet
with my own sweat, but otherwise fresh as the morning. It was strange,
being surrounded by natives, some of them unbathed from the smell of
them, yet all white and clean myself, but with my bottom howling at me
like a sharp-biting frost.
At the door to the plantation house we were made to stop and splash
in a foot trough. I saw the water become sullied with the red dirt from
the jungle floor as I stood in the trough, holding my hands over my ass
protectively. Jill was next, Sam last. Then, our feet clean, we padded
back into the sumptuous interior of the house.
Mistress led us into the parlor. Amidst family photographs, with a
hutch of decorative china displayed behind us, she lined us up three
abreast. She took a little box from a table. I gulped when I saw what it
contained. Nipple clamps! Mistress stroked my own nipples, still rigid
from my ordeal, and affixed the clamps to them. IÕd never worn nipple
clamps before. I shouted as the first was put on, then watched with
trepidation as the second was attached to me. They hurt! For a moment I
forgot all about my bottom, though the entire time I stood rubbing it, or
trying to. Jill was next. She accepted hers with less complaint. Sam had
put her in such things before, I guessed. Lastly Sam himself was made to
wear the clips. He did not like them, yelled with surprise as he felt them
attached for the first time in his life.
A girl entered. She was white, no more than 8 or 9, with little
breast buds just beginning to pop from her chest. She wore panties. They
were creased in back, as if sheÕd just pulled them up, and I thought I saw a
blush of red upon her bottom, mostly concealed by the cotton panties. Had
she just been spanked? She seemed spoilt, as if always a little
recalcitrant at any chores she might be assigned, perhaps for nothing more
than a little attention. Now I saw she had a job to do. She held three
ropes in her small hands, and I guessed they were for us.
ÒStart with Sam,Ó mistress told the girl. ÒDo it just as you would in
girl scouts.Ó Girl Scouts? She looked to be still a Brownie to me, though
perhaps they graduated more quickly here. ÒSam, this is Beth. SheÕs going
to tie your wrists so well that even you wonÕt be able to break free.Ó Sam
snorted his disapproval, but let the girl draw his hands behind him. Beth
stroked the long, powerful muscles of his forearms. Mistress caressed
the girlÕs soft blonde hair, neatly tied off into two ponytails.
ÒWhat happened? You look like you just pulled up your panties,Ó
mistress said to Beth.
ÒGovÕnor spanked me,Ó Beth sniffled. With nimble fingers she began
tying SamÕs wrists. I think he was still too shocked by the clamps on his
nipples to think of flight. Beyond the drawn curtains of the parlor, made
of the finest lace, we could see the shifting shadows of the restless
natives. They were shouting something. I prayed it was not a request for
an encore.
I turned to Jill. She was disconsolate. She held the cheeks of her
bottom apart, biting her lip, letting air into the little hole in back which
brimmed with her husbandÕs sperm. She fell against me. I almost fell
over. I caught her, let her press her overheated body to mine. We panted
together, our bottoms making us feel like naughty, reproved gradeschool
children. If only we hadnÕt slipped off our bikinis to go swimming! JillÕs
breasts pressed heavily alongside mine. Four gourds, they seemed, our
titties with their admonitory clamps biting off the tips within scissorlike
jaws, making them hurt so. Jill flicked one of my clamps. It wiggled upon
the tip of my teat.
ÒDonÕt,Ó I breathed, shivering. She stroked my belly.
ÒNext time, weÕll keep our bikinis on, no matter what Sam says,Ó Jill
confessed to me.
ÒYes, I replied.Ó I poked my finger into her bellybutton. She dropped
her hand to my fleecy muff and tangled her fingernails within it.
Somehow I knew that next time, when Sam made us, weÕd slip out of our
bikinis just as quickly, the waves washing the nearby beach. And weÕd
watch wide-eyed as Sam lowered his own trunks, letting his massive
prick and balls swing freely before us.
ÒWell why would your governor spank you?Ó mistress asked with
feigned curiosity. Together we glanced at Sam. I think IÕd heard mistress
ask the question before, the girl had not answered. Now mistress asked
again.
ÒBecause I didnÕt want to come inside!Ó Beth exclaimed. Intently she
kept tying Sam. He flexed his powerful arms. He was bound, his chest
huge and taut, his cock dangling down, like a snake waiting for the
strength to strike again. ÒWhy must I come inside?Ó Beth asked. ÒAnd
why canÕt I play anymore as the Indians do, without any clothes on?Ó
ÒBecause youÕre growing up, dear,Ó mistress answered. ÒYouÕre
becoming a young lady. We do not run around naked as the primitive
natives do. WeÕre civilized.Ó Mistress looked up at me, at Jill.
ÒThere is cream in the top drawer of that dresser,Ó mistress told
Jill. ÒGet it and put it on your bottoms. I can see you need it.Ó
Quickly Jill broke away from me and went trippingly to the dresser,
her wounded hiney cheeks wobbling behind her as she walked, utterly
naked, across the parlor floor. She opened the dresser, poked around.
Finding the cream, she returned to where we stood. At once she opened
the jar, tossed aside the lid, and stepped over to her husband and began to
lave handfuls of cream on his injured ass.
Sam ground his hairy thighs together, loving the attention from his
wife, even as Beth put the final touches on his bindings. His cock stood
up, thrust at the air.
ÒFlurry next,Ó mistress said to Beth. The small girl came over to
me, got behind me, pulled my arms back even as I speculated about
kneeling before Sam and praying to his Godlike phallus. I wiggled my toes
into the deep impressing softness of the rug. Even now I wished to serve
Sam in whatever way I could, despite what heÕd gotten us into.
Finishing with her husband, Jill came to me next, and assuaged my
hurt asscheeks as Beth bound my wrists tightly. I could do nothing but
stand and receive their attention. Mistress watched me. My titties
jiggled as they worked. I glanced beyond at Sam, he stood barefoot, naked
from tip to toes, watching us, watching the figures dancing and hollaring
outside our parlor windows. Inside, all was safe and secure, prim and
proper, despite our impoliteness at being nude in such a haven of Puritan
tradition. I glanced at the piano in the corner of the room, a small one,
imported from Europe. I remembered my lessons as a girl. If I was home
now mom would probably have me sitting at ours, plinking out my lessons,
with my stereo headphones surreptitiously plugged into my ears and Rat
blasting away into them.
Jill was last to be tied. Sam and I drew close to her, watching her,
waiting for whatever might befall us next.
ÒYes, youÕll be good in here,Ó mistress said to us, her voice almost
soothing. It was a proper English voice, her tone formal, yet consoling.
ÒDo you know what the traditional fate is for those bound to the post and
whipped is? Why, it is to be eaten. That is what the natives are asking
for now. They have a pot boiling out there, just for you, big enough for all
three of you to fit into. The ultimate jacuzzi, IÕd say, wouldnÕt you?Ó she
laughed as she saw all three of us shiver. ÒPlease obey me in all things,
and the governor too, and weÕll let you stay for dinner.Ó She placed a hand
on SamÕs newly creamed bottom, seemed to size up his buttocks as if they
were shanks of beef in a store. With her other hand she sized up the
length of his cock. Yes, even that would feed five native children, I
thought with a shiver. The tongue, our eyes, my titties, SamÕs dick,
nothing would be left to waste.
ÒIÕm done!Ó Beth announced.
ÒYou may go now,Ó mistress told the girl.
ÒWhy is his so much bigger than IshmaelÕs?Ó the girl asked, pointing
at SamÕs penis, perhaps comparing it to the wieners of her Indian
playmates.
Poetry
made by dockery
Balek looking up the backwaters connections,
He had a telescope on the government.
ÒMachine GunÓ Holliday hiding underground,
I turned pale and almost died,
four wheel to the place, a lakefront bomb shelter.
Biblical Painter, telling of the Smith, making fun of my death,
talking about the new phone company, and prison cookbooks,
Balex talking computer art, zenlike, laughing behind my back,
listening to Dharma cassettes ... tricky acting people
Psychedelic Whirlwind
an interview with Dockery
by Frank Saunders
FS: What started your writing?
D: I... read Poe in Jr. High. I also used to draw a lot of comic strips...
The great songwriters of the 80Õs Patti Smith, Paul Westerberg and
now Pavement influence me a lot. Paul Westerberg has a great line [In
CanÕt Hardly Wait] ÒJesus rides beside me and never buys any smokes.Ó
...He rhymes words that other people havenÕt before.
FS: Some of your lines seem disconnected... but they work.
D: Well one time a man was reading over at the Street PreacherÕs box...
It was really garbled. I could only make out a few words here and there
- mostly unprintable...
You were talking about the drive between here and LaGrange. I
remember making that drive when I was young and hearing ÒRiders on
the StormÓ on AM radio. The line ÒHis brain is screaming like a toad.Ó
FS: Yeah, ÒTake a long holiday. Let your children play.Ó
D: Yeah I used to get a lot of thoughts drivinÕ a delivery truck... You get
really close to God behind the wheel of an automobile.
FS: I know I canÕt help but feel it then. Especially long drives.
Speaking of which we are going to Paul Westerberg this weekend.
D: Yes thatÕs kind of tragic though. I have an extra ticket because the
person that I bought it for is... well she wonÕt be going.
AND IN THE END...
WhatÕs on a 10-year-old girlÕs mind?
ÒEditors say they are just addressing whatÕs already on young
girlsÕ minds. Parents complain that the magazines are teaching their
10- to 15-year-olds to become sex-crazed.Ó
- Newsweek, February 24, 1997, pg. 8.
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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 208 EMISSION
- Dockery interview excerpted from Playgrounds Magazine.