YES, AMERICA, itÕs time for you to hear from me AGAIN!
Andrew Roller Presents
FUCK DECENCY
Issue No. 263
Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in
Bush League
Chapter Two
ÒI like your cock, Louis, but this one was bigger,Ó Polly teased. She
sashayed past him.
ÒWhere are you going, dear?Ó Rose asked her.
ÒSwimming!Ó Polly replied. She unzipped the back of her dress as
she headed out the back of the parlor. A moment later and there was
nothing but her dress on the floor. Beyond that, following just a little, but
not leaving the parlor, I saw her panties abandoned on the rug. So much
for being an innocent schoolgirl.
ÒI need a nap,Ó I said, sauntering over the couch on which Louis and
Andre were sitting. I guess a year makes a difference sometimes. Either
that or the sheer rigor of what IÕd been through, being anally probed,
whipped the night before, fucked this morning.
ÒDonÕt lie down here if you donÕt like my cock,Ó Louis warned. I
plopped down beside him anyway and let my head fall back into his crotch.
It felt satisfied beneath me, though I detected perhaps a slight bulging
when I looked up at him, babylike and parted my lips.
ÒGoo,Ó I said to Louis. ÒYouÕre my daddy now. Please donÕt spank me
for trying to take the worldÕs biggest cock up my ass.Ó
ÒGo to your room if you want to sleep, Fleury,Ó Rose told me. ÒWe
have a party tonight and the men need to save up their energy for it.Ó She
looked up from her knitting. ÒWhere it counts.Ó
ÒOh, IÕm too tired to get up now,Ó I said, yawning.
ÒUp! Scat! Or I wonÕt invite you to the party tonight,Ó Rose told me.
ÒIÕll lock you up in your room and who knows who might visit you then?
YouÕll have to lie awake all night waiting, just to see.Ó
Somehow I found the energy to spring up from the couch. ÒYou are a
bitch, Rose,Ó I told our hostess. I stalked from the room, feeling quite
mature and grown-up. I might be her guest, or, rather, a female brought
here by my boyfriend Louis to be trained to be a love slave, but I didnÕt
like being ordered around. Not all the time, anyway. I think I was getting
grumpy in my sleepiness. Rose ignored me. Louis and Andre went back to
reading their newspapers. I ascended the stairs, broad polished steps that
made me feel like Scarlet at Tara. Now I knew why I liked this place.
Mingled with the sense of submission was an extraordinary freedom. And
binding it all was RoseÕs mindbending sense of elegance. I stopped to look
at a Monet hanging halfway up the stairs. Water lilies. It was a
reproduction of course, but it was still pretty. I proceeded up the rest of
the stairs and down the hall to my room.
I undressed slowly and carefully lay my schoolgirl clothes on a
chair. Someone would come and hang them for me, or iron them, or wash
them or whatever needed to be done, but I still wanted to be neater, at
least, than Polly. When I stripped to my panties, though, I tip-toed to my
window. I drew back the drapes. I took my underpants off and, leaning out
the window just a little, I dropped them. They fluttered toward the
ground. From a distance they looked like a handkerchief or, when the wind
briefly caught them, like a dove. I watched them until they landed in the
grass. Then I slipped into bed and pulled up my covers and waited to see if
anybody would find them. My door to my room was unlocked. Perhaps heÕd
bring them to me, whoever he was, and graciously return them. Or perhaps
heÕd just be Branson, whip in hand, come with my panties and ready to
scold me for tossing them out the window. I shuddered and turned on my
side and tried not to think of that possibility. As I shut my eyes, sleep
overcame me.
I had slept perhaps an hour or two when, just lingering on the edge
of sleep, I heard my bedroom door open. Rose entered. She had a folded
parasol in her hand which she laid down just inside my door, as if sheÕd
been out walking. She held aloft my panties that IÕd dropped from my
window. She let them dangle from her finger, significantly, it seemed to
me. I felt a shiver run down my back to my tailbone.
ÒYou seem to have lost these,Ó Rose said in a low, disciplined voice.
ÒI-Ó What could I say? I should have put them away, I guess, but I
wanted to be naughty. I wanted to tease and taunt passersby under my
window. A man might have come to the castle to get closer to his wife
and then, strolling along with her on the castle grounds, he might have
seen my panties, the panties of a mere 14-year-old girl, and suddenly his
mind might be gripped with an insensate lust for someone much younger
than his wife. For me, Fleury.
Rose moved closer to me and her figure, fully formed and with its
dominant bust line, overshadowed me as I lay in my bed. Her breasts,
couched in a low cut gown, but with a series of straps leading up to her
neck where they formed a tight collar, loomed large and impressive. Twin
hindenburgs, filled with hot air and ready to burst upon me. ÒMay I remind
you, Fleury, that while you are given many freedoms here at my castle, you
are in fact not free. You are expected to behave as LouisÕ love slave,
especially when he is present. He was not the least amused to find two
young men eagerly inquiring as to the possessor of these panties. They
seemed to think they had a right to return them to the Ôpoor girl,Õ as they
called you, whoÕd ÔlostÕ them. A fight almost ensued right in my living
room. I had the men ejected, of course. They should not have been invited
in the first place if they are going to let their lust get out of hand like
that. But I mustnÕt let you go unpunished for such an indiscretion, clever
and sexy as it might have been. Least because it caused me trouble, and
thatÕs enough of a standard for me.Ó
ÒOh, IÕm sorry,Ó I begged her. I drew my covers tightly under my
chin.
ÒYou are not Polly,Ó Rose told me. ÒYou are older, and more
experienced. Do you wish to remain my guest at the castle, or should I
send you home now?Ó She took my covers from my hands, persuading them
out of my grip.
ÒNo-- no I like it here,Ó I answered, truthfully, though I felt my
tummy all aflutter. She pulled down my sheets and my bedcover and
looked at my nude body. The panties, so important a moment ago, lay
dropped on the covers and got rolled under them as she drew them down.
ÒLook at you, you didnÕt even bathe before getting into your nice
clean bed,Ó Rose said. Then, speculatively, she took both my breasts in her
hands and palped them, squeezed my tits a little, as if she might be
picking up where Glenda had left off. ÒPolly resists sometimes, but I do
not expect you to, Fleury. You are to obey. You are old enough to
understand this. I will have Joanne and Sylvia come and bathe you. You
are entitled to that, at least, as a prisoner. This is not a real prison, as I
sometimes have to remind Branson. It is a prison of love. Your cuffs will
be put back on after your bath, and your collar too. Then you will report to
me, downstairs, and I will punish you for throwing your panties out the
window.Ó
I felt my hands slip quickly beneath my bottom. ÒOh, not on my
heinie!Ó I begged. ÒIt hurts still from last night!Ó
ÒWherever Louis wishes it, thatÕs where it will be done,Ó Rose said.
She bent low and kissed my forehead. ÒYou are loved, my dear. Never
forget that. You are a captive of love. The men may mistreat you
sometimes, but it is only because they enjoy seeing your young little body
wriggling around, showing all your forbidden parts. There will be time
enough in life for your mind, my dear. Now is the time for your body. We
must awaken it to all the pleasures of life. Think of all the dowdy girls
who long for love, but find none or, worse, find themselves shunned,
ostracized by their peers because theyÕre too fat, or wear glasses, or have
stupid hair that just wonÕt set right.Ó
ÒI still donÕt want to be punished,Ó I mourned.
ÒOf course you donÕt,Ó Rose replied. ÒNo girl does. I didnÕt. But a
sharp slap on your beautiful fanny is nothing compared to what those other
girls suffer, the ones who waste their lives reading Tiger Beat long after
they should have outgrown it, because nobody likes them and nobody plays
with them.Ó Rose pulled down the front of her dress and her tits bulged
out, her nipples and tit flesh extruded up by the bunched down gown. She
offered me her nipples. They were coral-tipped, like jewels.
ÒLick my nipples,Ó Rose told me. ÒSuck them, yes, ah like a baby you
suck!Ó she exclaimed, as I, hoping perhaps to win a reprieve, took her
nearest nipple tip in my mouth and sucked on it urgently. ÒGood, good,Ó
Rose told me, encouraging my hopes. I let my eyes bulge wide and I
suckled her breasts as if my life depended on it for, indeed, my bottom no
doubt did! When IÕd made one of her jug-like breasts all wet at its tip
with my saliva I went to her other one. I sucked on it just as greedily. I
was hungry for her forgiveness.
Rose seemed torn between lifting her dress and frigging herself and
desisting. Alas for me, her conscience won out. ÒEnough!Ó she declared,
and tore my lips from her bosom. ÒGo fill your tub. Joanne and Sylvia will
be fetched and in attendance on you. Obey them. Do not fight them. Let
them wash you and prepare you.Ó
ÒBut-Ó I begged. I did not want my hard work to be wasted.
ÒI will put in a good word with Louis,Ó Rose replied.
ÒYou fucked him this afternoon while I was at child protective
services,Ó I snapped at her.
Rose put her palm over my mouth. She lowered her teeth to my right
nipple. She clamped her incisors over it. Within the cold grip of her teeth
she let the tip of her tongue flick across my tender nipple tip. ÒDo you
feel this?Ó she asked, squeezing my nipple harder with her teeth, making
me really feel its presence. Her words were understandable despite her
clenched jaws.
ÒYes!Ó I breathed.
ÒI am in charge,Ó Rose told me. I nodded, watching her bite my
nipple. She unclenched it. Smiling, she lifted her head, licked her teeth
with her tongue. Her hand found my other nipple and pinched it.
ÒOw!Ó I said.
ÒOne hour,Ó Rose warned me. ÒThen I expect you to be downstairs
and all ready for your punishment, whatever it may be. Tell Joanne and
Sylvia to keep track of the time.Ó
ÒYes, mistress,Ó I said quietly. She unfolded my bedcovers. She
drew my panties out of them and inspected them. Then she reached past
my head and tossed them out the window.
ÒWhat-?Ó I began. Her breasts swung over my face like ripe
watermelon.
ÒLove is obedience, my dear,Ó Rose told me. She patted my face.
ÒYou will make a good wife someday because I will have trained you well.Ó
She turned and walked away from my bed, toward the door. I
watched as her hips undulated with a blatant sexuality. She did not intend
it, I think. She was just so perfectly formed, so fulsome, with a waspish
waist, that her hips could do naught but invite the eye, and make men
especially lust after her tail. I wondered if I might someday take a whip
to her tush. The thought made my spot tingle. I donÕt know why, but
seeing her bent over and howling sent a shiver of pleasure through my
belly and up my thighs. Yes! Despite all she did to me, I vowed someday it
would be my turn. IÕd show her how well IÕd learned all her love lessons.
Her bottom would smart for days after from all my learning.
I was presented by Joanne and Sylvia. I had a big pink bow in my
hair. I looked utterly precious...
FEMINIST STUDIES
for Men!
by Joe Klein
For many years we males have been subjected to Òfeminist theory.Ó
ItÕs main accomplishment was to declare, and then pass into law, the
maxim that ÒAll men are evil.Ó
Today, ladies, itÕs payback time. After all, I personally consider the
sexes to be equal. WhatÕs good for the gander is good for the goose.
Hence, our first maxim: ÒAll women are evil.Ó
Notice I didnÕt say, Òlittle girls are evil.Ó (Though women do their
best to make them so.) And I didnÕt say, ÒAll teenage girls are evil.Ó I am
keeping my theories Ôfeminist pure.Õ If the feminists didnÕt say it, I wonÕt
say it.
Next, having declared all men evil, the feminists ask, ÒWhat to do
with them?Ó I agree. What to do with women? Generally, feminists
declare men to be unnecessary. I agree! Women are unnecessary. Little
girls are necessary. Teenage girls are necessary. Women are unnecessary.
Feminists usually decide that if a man canÕt live with all the new
feminist laws, he must be put in prison. (Preferably for life.) I agree.
LetÕs get rid of all these goddamn women! Put them in prison, for life.
After all, ÒAll women are evil.Ó
Some women will claim IÕm a misogynist. Really, though, IÕm not. I
personally donÕt have anything against women. TheyÕre often easier to
deal with than men. Men are always playing a game of one-upmanship.
Men organize themselves into a hierarchy. So whenever youÕre dealing
with a man, the question always arises, ÒIs he the dominant in this
relationship, or am I?Ó Dealing with a woman, there is usually only
mutual respect and courtesy. A woman doctor, for instance, is not intent
on demonstrating to me that weÕre in a hierarchy, and that sheÕs above me.
(Like a man would be.) SheÕs the doctor, and IÕm the patient. ThatÕs it.
ThereÕs no ÒKing of the HillÓ game going on underneath the relationship.
Nonetheless, not having anything against someone doesnÕt mean you
wish to have -- what shall we call it -- a special relationship with them.
For instance, I have nothing against the man who picks up my garbage. I
endorse his RIGHT to work a job, picking up my garbage. But I donÕt want
to climb in bed with him.
The same goes for women. I mean, really, what does a woman have
to offer? A woman is basically the same as a man, in my opinion. She
works a job. I work a job. She worries over her taxes. I worry over my
taxes. And on and on. I mean, whatÕs the difference? I may as well have a
special relationship with myself, or climb in bed with a man.
Girls, on the other hand, are totally different. This week IÕm reading
the May 13, 1997 issue of Globe, about Michael KennedyÕs 14-year-old
girlfriend. What a unique and interesting person she is! And IÕll bet lots
of other 14-year-old girls are just as fantastic. But IÕm told, ÒNo, no, you
may only ever associate with women.Ó
My answer to that? YUCK! IÕd rather spend the rest of my life with
6-year-old JonBenet, on her naughtiest, most uncontrollable day, than
spend a second of my life with, say, Michael KennedyÕs ex-wife.
So, returning to feminism: since all women ARE evil, what should
we men do about them? I suggest a regime of Laws. LetÕs set up a legal
system in this country that few if any women can ever hope to comply
with. TheyÕll all find themselves declared Òpredators,Ó and be imprisoned.
And donÕt forget the death penalty. After all, ÒWomen. TheyÕre the
WORST!Ó
Yes, ladies. I really canÕt stand you. Like I said, itÕs okay dealing
with you as doctors, (etc.) But I donÕt want to have a special relationship
with you. I really canÕt even understand men I see, hanging around with
women. (Especially since most women are way past their prime, in terms
of attractiveness.) I mean, is the average man insane? ThatÕs not meant
to be a rhetorical question. Anything a woman is, a girl is surely 10 times
better. Prettier, more fun, more interesting, you name it. About the only
criticism I hear of girls is, ÒWomen are better conversationalists.Ó
Huh? Better to talk to? First of all, girls are more FUN to talk to.
(I know this more by surmise than by actual experience, alas.) Secondly,
if you really want educated talk, gentlemen, watch Charlie Rose. I watch
it and McNeil/Lehrer every night. ThatÕs 10 hours of educated talk per
week. Want more? ThereÕs C-SPANÕs endless ÒAbout BooksÓ program on
Saturday and Sunday, plus Booknotes. Want more? ThereÕs books,
magazines like The Economist, etc. And you wonÕt just be getting some
working womanÕs half-assed assumptions on Charlie Rose, or C-SPAN.
YouÕll be getting your information direct from the worldÕs most respected
experts.
Yet Charlie Rose gets low ratings. So obviously these men who
claim they prefer women to girls arenÕt, in fact, interested in intellectual
conversation.
Is it sex youÕre after, men? Again, I would assume, a tight virgin is
more fun to fuck than some woman whoÕs motto is: ÒBeen there, done
that.Ó
Some men, apparently, like women because theyÕre Òsexually
talented.Ó Well, soÕs the local faggot. Why donÕt you go get a blow job
from him?
Really, I canÕt understand menÕs fixation with women. I donÕt have
experience with girls, unfortunately, or with women (for which I thank my
lucky stars), but it would seem to me that girls are a FAR better deal than
women. Yet we see men collaborating with women every day to build and
strengthen the NaziFeminist matriarchy weÕre currently living in.
Oh well, thatÕs my 2 cents worth. If I have any other thoughts on the
relative worthlessness of women, you can be sure youÕll read them here.
FUCK WOMEN!
(or, better yet, donÕt!)
AND IN THE END...
RACIST AMERICA
Anyone remember Mel Reynolds?
ÒThe girl isnÕt talking -- nor is her family -- and the case will probably
never get to court.Ó
- Newsweek, May 12, 1997, on Michael Kennedy and his underage lover.
(pg. 50)
(Congressman ReynoldsÕ underage lover was jailed until she talked. -
h.j.)
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-END OF 263 EMISSION
- Late word from Joe Klein: ÒI wish to remain anonymous.Ó