Despite the best efforts of the FBI itÕs...
Andrew Roller Presents
FUCK DECENCY
Issue No. 34
Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in
Love Child
Chapter Fourteen
Behind us the ladies took up position. Ah! Flat and sharp a belt
comes down across my offered bottom. I give a little cry. My breasts
shake.
ÒGet into position on your stable mats!Ó a female yells. One of the
dominant females, armed with a strap. We return hastily to our towels,
spread lovingly upon the floor for us. Wiggly bottomed we kneel as before,
rotating our asses ever so sweetly. We want it now. Want whatever is
coming to us. We will accept it with equanimity. My mind a cauldron of
thoughts, I remember the other whipping. In the square. In front of the
church. Its steeple jutting upward, its spire threatening to pierce the
clouds. I remember the intense heat, the brownskinned people, gawking,
looking avidly at what should be covered, our indecent bottoms. And I
remembered natureÕs gawkers too, the flies that buzzed close to inspect
our bottoms just before the rains came.
Shifting my weight from one knee to the other I wondered if there
would be any flies here, driven before a summer storm. And then I saw the
ladies take up many-thonged whips, cat oÕ nine tails with tight little
knots at their tips. Alas! No, Master! Not a horde of bees on my bottom!
Curious whiskered flies in the square were bad enough. Gently the ladies
began swishing our asses with the cats, letting them dangle down and just
sweeping them slightly, back and forth, like palm fronds on overhanging
palm trees.
I gasped. I trembled. I bit my lip, feeling the soft inquiring
sweeping on my delicate fanny. I felt Amber shiver beside me. She did not
deserve a whipping, oh no, she told herself, but she was too sensuous now,
like me, to refuse. Hot breathed we watched now as Master drew up
Tiffany. Dreamy eyed she watched him. He stood her upright on her feet
as one might a nervous toddler. He told her to lift her arms and she did,
raising her hands up to the level of her nose on either side of her face.
She held them there quietly, submissively, as rough Mexican ladies came
and bound her wrists with ropes. All the while she looked into MasterÕs
eyes, and he into hers. I longed to be in her place, to receive MasterÕs full
undivided attention. I knew his attention would soon divide her cunt lips,
or perhaps her bottom cheeks. Or maybe the lips of her mouth! Yes, I
thought, almost rushing forward and grabbing at his wonderful cock. Yes
it would divide her mouth and she would suck on it, lustily. He would
scream for mercy, not wanting to come, yet not wanting to withdraw from
her either. She would have to be careful with him up above if she wanted
him down below. She would have to succor him and yet preserve him.
Oh, Master, what awful games you play! You make sex so long-
drawn-out, worrying even slow-loving girls that the end will never come.
I watched as Tiffany was suddenly jerked upward, lifted right off the
floor! Her shock was reflected in all our faces. The crowd roared with
laughter and approval. TiffanyÕs legs jerked and leapt in the air, showing
her cunny to any who cared to even glance in her direction. Tiffany, our
cool, sophisticated leader! Reduced to a strung up whore in a meat shop!
Come, Mexicans! Look at the cheesecake displayed for you on the mats and
the little bird weÕve hung up with ropes from the ceiling. See how she
twitters and pleads! See her proud titties. See how they bobble
helplessly as she twists, captive before you. Look at her sleek legs. Yes,
my Mexican women, my ever-suffering laborers, here is your yearly prize.
Here is your night of revenge and pleasure! The tourist girls, their
sunglasses torn off, their sun-shielding parasols ripped away, their
stylish clothing gone. See how white and vulnerable they are under all
that finery they like to wear. Their little panties, their ever-so-
concealing and revealing lacy bras. Their sheer blouses, with the stiff
modest-seeming collars, though all can be seen simply by looking closely.
The boobs, shifting beneath their nothing bras, trimmed with lace but with
cups of silk. Chiffon blouses with silk bras beneath. Shaft sunlight
though them and you can see the red-hued nipples, risen perhaps, as they
go down the promenade shopping, passing the church.
Yes now the skirts and the bobby socks and the nothing bras and
blouses are gone, see how hopelessly naked they are now! Look at the
cats, their awful tips promising retribution as they caress their bottoms.
See them panting lustily. They love their Master, their grandee, as you
must love him also. They are willing to give him everything, every part of
their deliciously white bodies, as you have already given yours for many
years now.
All around me the sounds of men and women having sex began to fill
the room. Between my legs I looked, felt a sharper swish across my
bottom in response, warning me. Yet in my thigh-framed glimpse I saw
the natives finally loosing themselves from their clothing and their
restlessness. Down came the dresses of the Mexican ladies, their little
husbands eagerly disrobing beside them. Closer at hand the aristocratic
friends of the grandee had assembled, guests who ruled their own villages
and held their own festivals on separate nights, where no doubt the
grandeeÕs son would be in attendance soon, admiring their showgirls. The
aristocrats and their wives stood over us, admiring our light-skinned
beauty, our Anglo manes of hair softly sweeping the floor before us, even
as the cats swept our bottoms.
Gradually clothes came down around me. The aristocrats stripped
each other, each man taking anotherÕs wife for the evening to increase
their pleasure. With gentle sighs the ladies touched their substitute
husbands and were touched in turn. Their fingers apprised stiff-stemming
cocks, sweetly indented dells. And ladies too touched each other. ÒHow
nice to fondle your breasts and pussy again, my dear, it has been months
since we partied last.Ó ÒYes and your bosoms are as firm and resilient as
ever my love, kiss me.Ó
Gently Tiffany was lowered to her feet. Mesmerized, her eyes
caught the grandeeÕs and she stared at him. ÔHow awful you are, Sir!
Awful and ruthless and oh how I love you...Õ I could almost hear her
thinking. Her lissome body, sleek limbed, trembled all over as she
regained her sense of composure, her feet once more solidly on the floor
but her arms still lofted high...she could be pulled up again any minute.
Tied, ANYTHING could happen to her! And from the look of lust on the
grandeeÕs face, as he returned her stare, anything just might...almost
surely would. She was nothing but his toy now, his pink plaything. Her
thighs quivering, she flexed her knees, offered her cunt to him by pushing
her crotch forward. Above her smooth belly rippled softly, waiting to be
filled.
ÒNaughty girl, have you no modesty?Ó Lisa reprimanded her. She
turned Tiffany toward the wall, walked her over to it as the rope ran along
a track above. With wobbling steps, her bottom cheeks jiggling as she
tread on tip-toe, Tiffany was led to her fate against the wall. A soft
carpet had been hung there to protect her breasts from the roughness of
the stone masonry. Lisa pressed Tiffany against the furry wall hanging, a
bear skin I think it was, imported from Alaska.
Tiffany shuddered. All of us did, watching her, all of us on our
knees. The twisting leathern thongs of the cat cascaded with light,
menacing sparkles over my upturned peach. Wrist twisting, flicking ever
so casually, the woman at my rear gave me a teasing taste of what I
feared would be much sterner stuff soon. Before me Tiffany stood, Lisa
pressing her fingers to the girlÕs bare waist. She lifted TiffanyÕs ass with
her slim-fingered hands gripping her waist.
ÒOffer your pumpkin,Ó I heard her murmur. Tiffany stuck out her
bare white hiney even as Master selected a whip from the wall. A cat, its
thongs braided into fearsome cords, its ends tipped with sharp-pointed
knots. The leather had been carefully cut and prepared by master
craftsmen, Lisa told Tiffany as the girl glanced back over her shoulder and
gasped. Master struck at the floor, practising. Lisa brushed TiffanyÕs hair
with her hands and parted it. She pushed it over the girlÕs shoulderÕs,
baring her back. Tiffany shook her head and replaced it over her back. Oh,
if only it ran down farther and could cover her bottom! I thought. At a
word from Master, Lisa piled TiffanyÕs hair loosely atop her head. An
aristocrat woman gave her a clip and she secured it. Now all of Tiffany
could be touched by the whip, kissed with its handmade leather. Her white
body shivered from head to toe. Master spoke again. Lisa drew the girl
out, away from the wall, turned her so that she could be seen both front
and back by us and the crowd. Master strode to a new spot, behind her
again, but with a mirror on a far wall reflecting her front to him.
Tiffany bit her lip. Her breasts heaved as she prepared herself for
her erotic punishment. There was no crime, no charges to be read. Yet I
felt it my bones her whipping would be a severe one. And mine too! Every
stroke Master gave Tiffany would be repeated across my fundament.
Carefully, precisely. I glanced back at my Mistress and saw the
studiousness in her face. She would not spare me, nor give me more than
Tiffany got. With admiring eyes she watched Master, looked at me, nudged
me with her boot to make me turn around.
ÒFace forward, eyes down,Ó she reminded me. Then, at MasterÕs
command, she lay down her cat and assisted in my Òbuckling.Ó With
soothing words, false comforting words, she helped the Mexican ladies
manacle my wrists in steel cuffs and secure them with bolts to the floor.
The other girls were secured also, Òhelpfully,Ó my Mistress said, to help
us take what was coming. When I was bound she caressed my hips, the
flanks of my thighs, measuring me for her handiwork. Then she stood and
glanced at the other Mistresses. Master was ready.
Lisa put the finishing touches to TiffanyÕs imprisonment. She was
trussed with her legs wide apart, her toes turned prettily inward. Master
seemed to marvel at her beauty even as he contemplated how he would
tarnish it. Secure in my metal bracelets I watched, my fanny offered up to
my Mistress. She shivered the thong tips over my bottom, testing my
mettle. I wanted to scream, to plead and beg to be let up. But it would
only earn me far worse treatment from her, I knew. At MasterÕs direction,
no less. He was in charge of us all. Would I act up, just for his attention?
Just to take his eyes off Tiffany?
Ritual-like, Master came over to each of us. He patted each of us on
our heads as we knelt, dog-like, in his presence. I kissed his shoe. He
patted my head again. Lastly he went to Tiffany. Deftly he put a hand
between her legs and fingered her cunny. She whimpered, twisting in her
bonds. She squirmed atop his seeking fingers, wishing. He withdrew his
hand, sniffed it, found the scent agreeable. Then he strode back and took
up position behind her to give her what she so richly deserved.
Five white American girls, their unprotected bottoms wiggling
lewdly in a display of fine ass flesh. We were about to taste a really
severe whipping, I knew. WeÕd come for it. Not knowing, not
understanding, yet deep down, primally, wanting to be violated in some
significant way. Wanting to escape our cosseted suburban lives. Here, in
the jungle, we would joust with Nature herself, our soft round bottoms
verses her man-wielded thongs. And prongs. Hardness and stiffness and
sharpness against our pinkly swelling asses, our absorbing little cunts and
buttholes. But we were weary of sensitive 90Õs men, caged and castrated
by laws on sexual harassment and statutory rape. Here there were only
NatureÕs men, unrestrained by civilized Òlaws.Ó Here we would match
them blow for blow, and in the end win out, their life juices drained away
by our inviting holes. We would leave with their juice in us and go back to
our other lives, dainty stewardesses guiding men on planes, saying ÒyesÓ
and ÒnoÓ and Òmaybe so, but right now I must shampoo.Ó Come back when
my hair is combed and set and then I will contemplate your offer, if I
havenÕt become bored with it already by then.
Oh, how my bottom would hurt tomorrow! It would require endless
attention, creams delicately applied, perfumes gently sprayed. Just to sit
would be a nightmare, yet here I was, my bottom untouched, big and wide-
spreading and able to do whatever I wished with it. I could plop it down
anywhere, save on nettles, without a care or a second thought. I could go
hiking with it, or skiing, or I could take it to a NOW convention and sit
with the ladies. But tomorrow! How delicate I would be then, wincing and
simpering, begging people not to touch it, even to graze it with their
fingertips, lest they hurt me. I would be a Japanese doll then, fragile and
delicate beyond measure. No longer a Òtake chargeÓ Western girl, but an
Eastern girl, oh so sensitive, deferential, knowing my place and sitting in
it lest someone give my poor bottom an unwanted touch. At my rear, so
boldly offered now, the cat tickled. It would transform me. I would
become a Geisha girl. I would live in a tall-standing Pagoda and study
Confucius. He would be a hard master, but I would obey willingly. Bravely
I thrust up my bottom, relishing my last moments of proud defiance. I saw
Tiffany too, sticking her ass right out at Master, taunting him with it. See
how lovely and white my bottom is, Mexican ladies. The pretty bottom of
Europa mooning the inferior, slavish races. See my Aryan ass and kiss it.
ÒNo!Ó TiffanyÕs cry pierced the air, plaintive, unwilling. My reverie
broke and I saw that Master had accorded her her first ass-stinging, butt
reddening stroke. Inswirling knots had graced her pale loveliness and left
their prints behind.
And now me! With attentive eyes, my Mistress carefully copied
MasterÕs stroke and gave my bottom the same.
ÒOoooh!Ó I lurched forward in my bonds, bound at the knees and at the
wrists, my legs fixed wide by a spreader bar that ran along behind me,
across my towel. And below my hanging face, gazing floorward, a second
spreader bar ran over my towel and held my wrists in place.
ÒOffer your bottom properly,Ó Mistress warned me. I dipped my back
reluctantly, not so eager to show off my ass to the Mexican ladies
anymore. Tiffany too needed reminding, she curved her back inward,
pressing her belly toward the floor, angling it downward as she jutted her
ass out, shyly now, not wantonly as before.
HISSSS! No sooner had she offered her peach than Master gave it its
second rebuke, loving how she waggled it about ruefully. And he told her
to stick it out again for more, always she must stick it out again for more.
I wept as my own bee-stung bottom suffered the same assault.
ÔPlease Master it is enough,Õ I wanted to shout. ÔIÕve learned my
lesson now. I wonÕt think naughty thoughts about teasing the Mexican
ladies with my bottom.Õ
But again the ass-firing cords came in, scorching our fannies,
making us buck and rear and shake our bloated, gourd-like titties. Fruit on
slim vines so heavy it might drop off, might stick its stiff-nippled thorns
right into the carpet below us.
ÒAh! Not again!Ó Tiffany yelped, feeling the bristling cords strike
her all over her offered peach. It was splotched in many places now with
pink, little splotches, each from one of the tiny wicked knots. Again
Master lashed her, again she shook and shivered and led the way for us,
quickly following with our own cries.
All around me now I heard the calls and moans of people having sex.
In close, the aristocrats, their copulations inspired by my suffering.
Farther out, the Mexican laborers, their grunts and ululations summoning
some jungle rutting ritual in my mind. Beasts and monkeys must be there,
amidst their coarse bodies, fucking with them. It was the season of
estrus and they were all exchanging their interchangeable genes.
Ah, me! Again the cursed cords, scalding my superior stuck-up
thoughts, chasing them away. We poor white girls wouldnÕt have anything
left of our hides tomorrow, I could tell, they could read our minds and
were beating us for our snootiness. Mall rats, brats from America, come
down south to ask forgiveness for leading sheltered, wealthy lives while
half the world starved.
ÒEeek!Ó Amber yelled. A woman had slid under her and caught one of
her risen nipples in her mouth. It did not abate the whipping. Down came
the cords again on her fanny, and mine also, making us buck and rear. The
woman sucked vigorously on AmberÕs tits, milking them hard, and the poor
girl could do nothing to stop her. At the womanÕs crotch her husband fed
in her dell, inspiring her. Helplessly Amber looked down at her soft
hanging tits, now gripped and squeezed and manhandled ruthlessly by the
aristocratic woman beneath her. The woman was used to using things up
and throwing them away. Cars, men, the luscious breasts (prettier than
her own) of virgin American girls. New girls in the jungle with too-white
bodies and impossibly seductive curves. Well, these were a pair of curves
that would be thoroughly worked over, yes indeed, they would spout
babiesÕ milk when she was through with them. No pregnancy was needed,
just vigorous suckling and squeezing.
The indriving knots scalded me again. Oooh! What a score of
stingers! Those wicked little knots could find me ANYWHERE, even within
my soft crevice. Like a frightened horse I tried to bolt from my stable of
chains. I dreaded the touch of the knots against my anus! It was so
sensitive, the tenderest flesh, tissue flesh, and every swathe of the bitter
knots opened me up back there. As my heinie squirmed madly, my cheeks
flexing open and closed, reacting to the pain, I knew IÕd get hit right on my
rosehole before the night was through.
I looked up at Tiffany, tears wetting my face, to try to assess the
damage to my own bottom. Alas! She had stopped looking back over her
shoulder at Master. No longer was she playing the sweet, inviting captive.
She couldnÕt afford to. All her attention was focused on her bottom now,
she was nothing but a burning bottom. Her eyes were squinched shut, her
chin uptilted. Squeezing her darling cheeks tightly together, she tried to
reduce the target area of her ass.
SPLAT! Another blow, echoed on my own fundament, sending me
forward in a gritting whine. As I reeled under the force of my own pain I
glimpsed TiffanyÕs cheeks bounding wide, showing her little hole to
Master, offering it to him, a bullseye. He would find it irresistible before
the night was done, I knew. He was too cruel not to give her one right up
her fanny before it was over. Though she might leave him one day, seeking
out other friends, she would talk about it for years to come. And when a
woman asked her, in polite but intimate conversation, perhaps over tea,
ÒHave you ever gotten a bee up your bonnet, dear?Ó Tiffany would know
precisely what she meant.
STINGS EXPLAINED (Part Two)
by holy joe
NOTE That a variation of the police sting is to simply say, ÒWe have
GIFs available.Ó Then they ask you to choose which ones you like. Of
course, if you choose the ÔwrongÕ ones you get to spend 5 years in a federal
prison.
AND IN THE END...
ÒTaking the State wherever found, striking into its history at any
point, one sees no way to differentiate the activities of its founders,
administrators, and beneficiaries from those of a professional-
criminal class.Ó - Albert Jay Nock, Our Enemy the State.
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