Andrew Roller Presents
FUCK DECENCY
Issue No. 9
Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in
Love Child
Chapter Six
"Ready?" I asked her, shifting my hips slightly to get a better
purchase on the bed.
"Yeth," she lisped, in a little girl's voice. I kissed the tip of her
nose, her lips. I gritted my teeth. Inside myself I held the dildo as
tightly as I could. Then I thrust forward.
"Umph!" Melissa grunted in a small voice. The hymen had held. I
shoved my hips at her again. "Ooh!" she mouthed.
"Buck! Buck your hips!" I told her. She moved them slightly, back
and forth. I grabbed handfuls of her bottom flesh and yanked her toward
me, jutting forward my cunt.
"OooaAck!" Melissa bleated suddenly, and I knew I'd broken
through. I rammed my hips back and forth, male-like, forcing her to
buck in and out also by yanking and pushing on her ass cheeks. Melissa
gurgled incoherently, trying her best to follow my lead, working her
hips against mine. Within myself I felt the dildo driving upward, even
as I knew it must be doing inside her also. Master watched it all,
amused, delighted. He picked up a pony whip and began flaying my
bottom to spur me on. I loved the sweet kiss of the whip. I wanted to
stick my ass out for him and let him whip me all over. He struck the
backs of my thighs and the backs of Melissa's thighs also. He could not
get at her bottom because of my hands.
I ground my mouth to Melissa's even as my hips worked against
hers. The dildo felt wonderful, filling me and opening me even as it
opened Melissa for the very first time. Soon she achieved her first
orgasm, panting, moaning, snuffling. I trilled out my own pleasure soon
after, lifting my face and swooning at the ceiling. I fell against her at
last, breathing hard, savoring the feel of her slick skin against mine.
We were partners...in crime. It was unlawful to deflower her, yet I had
done it. A crime of passion.
Melissa snuggled against me. Struggling to find her voice, she
gazed blissfully at master.
"Thank you, master," she said.
Chapter Seven
Our new master wasted no time in subjecting us to his will. We
found ourselves a few days later on a large country estate, our clothes
gone, with only our makeup to protect us from whatever he might
desire to do to us. He told us he would be unflinching in his discipline.
We would not be injured, not permanently anyway, he promised, but
anything else was fair game. He told us it was expensive to break in
girls like us, especially as young as we were, hiring the proper help,
that would attend to us yet not breathe a word afterward. We listened
attentively, as we knew we must, and nodded meekly.
He gave us short, hooded robes to wear, fringed with fur. They
were too short to cover our bottoms. They settled like bibs on the
upper curves of our cheeks, leaving us totally bare beneath. In front the
robes were too small to be drawn over our breasts. A little chain was
provided, in two pieces, which we drew across our boobs and fastened
in the middle. This kept the halves of our robe as closed as the garment
would allow. Our breasts, squeezed together, offered their nipples to
whomever might look, the gold chain crossing right over the cherry
tips, indenting them. For days our little costumes excited us so much
that we went about with perpetually erect nipples.
On our feet we wore little moccasin booties, trimmed with white
fur, like our cloaks. We also had fur trimmed gloves. Sometimes we
wore the gloves, sometimes not, just as we sometimes had our hoods
up or down, depending on our master's whim. We also wore dog collars
about our necks, locked securely, as symbols of our submission.
Master brought male guests to the house, and we served them tea,
after first collecting firewood outdoors and building a fire for them in
the fireplace. We were complimented on our beauty, especially our
bottoms, which the men said were the fairest they had ever seen. They
were snow white, untouched by the whip since our arrival, for master
was letting us settle in first to our new surroundings. Shamelessly we
flaunted our pretty derrieres as we stooped to serve them, and knelt on
the bearskin in front of the fire to attend to it. The men spoke
languidly of the pleasures of anal sex, though Melissa and I were under
strict orders from Master never to speak. One of them took out a riding
crop and passed it around, saying that it was of an exceptional make
and quality. "Fit for a queen's bottom," he said. Melissa and I wriggled
apprehensively, our bottoms tightening. Master had gone very easy on
us so far, letting us flounce about, bathing us each night and watching
us put on our makeup each morning, but otherwise forbearing from
doing anything to us. Servants, dressed formally, served us banquets at
mealtime and spoiled us with desserts and candies. We played croquet
in the yard. We rode ponies, mounted on velvet saddles. Blissfully we
rode them, legs apart, dangling. There were no stirrups. Our pussy lips
spread sweetly upon the velvet and we rode until we gasped on the
brink of orgasm. It didn't take long. Then master made us get off the
ponies. Shivering with need, he would take us back inside the house,
handcuff us in a corner, and sit and sip wine, admiring our squirming
asses. At night we slept with our hands cuffed to the headboard so we
could not masturbate.
Our desire would ebb and flow, yet never be allowed to release
itself. As much as we teased master he teased us, tying us up and
tickling our cunnies with feathers sometimes, our legs fixed wide by
spreader bars. When the men arrived we gazed at them from an
upstairs window, anxious but with desire welling painfully within us,
wondering if they would lance us with their cocks.
Melissa settled herself on the arm of an overstuffed chair. She
looked at the man sitting in it and heedlessly began humping the chair
arm with her young pussy. He gazed at her, amused.
"Melissa! Bad girl!" Master warned. She stopped.
"Why should I obey you?" she asked, hands planted firmly on the
chair arm behind her ass. She shifted her hips forward and back again,
giving herself pleasure. "You never whip me or anything," Melissa
taunted. I wanted to tell her to shush, that we'd get our fannies
warmed soon enough as it was.
"Didn't I tell you not to speak?" Master asked, rising. Melissa
looked down, perhaps secretly admiring her breasts, which had grown
since our arrival. Her furry jacket was smaller than ever. Tailor made,
it could barely contain her tits now. Absently I put my hands to my
bottom, knowing what must come next, probably for both of us. I stood
staring, waiting, in the middle of the room, as master went over to
Melissa and took her by the ear.
"Ow!" she whined, as he made her stand. He hadn't hurt her,
pulling on her ear. She was just being fussy. A spoiled little brat.
Hands still on my bottom, I thrust out my hips. I felt aroused by what I
knew was about to happen to us.
Master made Melissa and I hold hands. She looked at me. I felt a
twinge of regret that our cosseted days were over, and glared at her. In
response she stuck out her tongue at me. Miffed, I stuck my tongue out
at her.
"March, girls!" Master ordered, taking up his friend's riding crop.
"Lift your knees high, up to your chests, and march out back to the
woodshed. You've been coddled long enough!"
With brisk, high stepping feet we did as we were told, giving the
awkward style of walk our best effort. Master trailed behind us,
slapping the crop in his palm, admiring our jiggling heinies. A servant
opened the front door for us and we marched out, down the steps, and
across a path of broken flagstones. All the while the bibbed tails of
our robes flapped atop the shelves of our cruppers. Our tits jostled
nicely within our robes. Our nipples were unbearably rigid, sharp little
points eager to express milk, if only we had some.
A servant waited by the woodshed door to let us in. We entered,
smelling freshly cut hay, newly polished leather. Master and the men
entered behind us. Dutifully we stood in the center of what was a
fairly large room, facing the far wall. At master's command we hiked
up the backs of our robes, showing our dimpled bottoms fully.
"God! What asses!" A man said.
"The one on the right has a cherry ass," master said. Melissa gave
her heinie a little seductive waggle. Not to be outdone, I acknowledged
the men with a wriggle of my own. I loved being the center of
attention, and she did too. All eyes were on us. The men could think of
nothing else. Wives, girlfriends, all were forgotten as they gazed
admiringly at our tushies. Now if we could only endure whatever it was
they intended to do to us.
Master ordered us against the far wall. It was made of rough-
hewn boards, standing upright. Light shone through the cracks between
the boards, as if to wreathe us in heavenly luminescence. We were each
made to straddle a bucket. They were empty. I wondered why they
were there. Master told us to unfasten our cloaks and lay them aside.
I felt a moment of temporary freedom as I broke my pose over the
bucket, undoing the gold chain that held my cloak close about me.
Relishing my nudity I stepped over to a bale of hay and draped my cloak
upon it. Then, with a bold glance at master and the men, I returned to
my position over the bucket, as did Melissa. We were young women
now, unafraid of our sexuality or its effect on men. I tossed my head,
shrugged my shoulders. I was ready for whatever might befall me.
"You will both bear children easily," master promised us, coming
up behind. He told us to lift our arms. There were chains above, each
bearing a pair of handcuffs. He told us to snap ourselves in, and we did,
breathing tremulously, for the moment of truth was about to dawn upon
us. Master locked each of our remaining hands into place. He admired
the curvaceous lines of our hips and legs. He put his palms upon our
bottoms, squeezed them, caressed them. Oh, if only he would do that
all night, and spare us the whip! I thought. Now that the time had come
for our punishment I did not want it. If Melissa hadn't acted up we
might have escaped this, might have teased the men all night in our
risque little cloaks, prancing around, our tits and asses jiggling
alluringly. Now our adorable bottoms were going to taste new leather,
sharp leather, that the servants had polished just for us. Melissa
flinched as master tested the tightness of her asshole, digging within
her springy cheeks. It was the first violation. My ass was next. He
found me just a touch easier. I tried to relax, tried to open for him.
Resistance was futile.
"Your rear apertures, they are too tight," Master murmured. "You
must both be widened, made more accessible. We will begin tonight.
Do not move as I bind your legs, or I will be rougher with you than I
need to be." He bent, skillfully drew each of our ankles as far apart as
he could, starting with me, and secured them with metal cuffs chained
to the floor. Melissa lifted one leg, then the other, restless. Master
told her not to do so again, in a voice that made even her obey. Then
opened her stance fully, making her peep fearfully at the width of it,
and locked down her feet.
"Push out your bottoms, girls!" Master barked at us. We presented
our silken globes as best we could, jutting them back, looking over our
shoulders to see if master was satisfied. I saw then that we had been
drawn apart so we could be quartered.
Belts were fastened around our waists, and chains fitted snugly
into our bottomcracks. Curiously, at the point where my chain crossed
over my butthole there was a large ring, which master forced down into
the furrow of my cheeks, until it fit over my sphincter like a bullseye.
At the point where my rump merged into the pretty pouch of my pussy
the chain separated into two strands. One ran along the outside of each
of my pussy lips. Master said that was so he could fuck us in our cunts
whenever he wanted. But what about our butts? I wondered. Melissa
was put into a chain-belt of her own.
Master showed us two dildoes. He told us he was going to put
them up our asses and make us wear them all around the house. Mine
was inserted first, master constantly telling me to stick out my
bottom farther. The shaft went up me with difficulty. I whimpered,
not wanting it. But I did not speak, for that would have earned me a
punishment, and I was dead set against punishments just now.
"No, please," Melissa said, eyeing the slimmer dick master had in
mind for her. He gave her bottom a hard slap and she wailed, wiggling
her tushy all around.
"Not another word, girl," master growled. "There is no way I can
get my dick up that tight little passage of yours, and I'll be damned if I
let any other man beat me to it." He was gentle though, touching her
anus with his finger, working it slowly inside, saying she would be
distended no more than necessary for regular fucking. "I admire a nice,
tight ass as much as the next man," he assured her, finally withdrawing
his digit. "I'll only make you as wide as you need to be to accept a
penis, which is no worse than breaking your hymen, you know. Keep
your bottom well out. Yes, like that." He rewarded her by jamming the
nose of the dildo into her hole. She squawked, lurched forward. He
circled her waist with his arm and drew her back again, shoved the end
of the dildo in deeper. Melissa screeched, tried biting her lip,
screeched again.
Slowly, inexorably, the greased member burrowed its way up
Melissa's virgin chute. Master told her to breathe deeply, exhale,
breathe in again. Inch by quarter-inch the rubber organ made its way up
her. At last master was able to attach the end of it to the ring round
her anus, to hold it in place, just as mine was. Together we looked
utterly ridiculous, our asses juttingly presented, pierced with swollen
rubber cocks.
"How delightful they look!" a woman's voice said. Melissa and I
started. God, no! Don't let a woman see us like this. It was too
humbling, too private. We nearly melted with shame as we looked over
our shoulders and saw her approach us. She was elegant, dressed in
business clothes. The very antithesis of our lewdly displayed, ripely
naked teenage bodies. She held a little pony whip, and we knew at once
she would not hesitate to use it on us.
"Please, ma'am!" Melissa asked. She howled as a cut landed right
on her bottom. A harsh one too, biting deep. She wiggled her ass and
mistress told her to stick it right out again. She gave her another, and
then me too, making me yelp.
"Keep those bottoms presented properly," our new mistress
ordered. She spoke with a refined English accent. Oh, how did I get
myself into such a predicament? I wondered. I could not speak, could
not move, and it felt like I had a giant-sized cucumber rammed up my
ass. On top of that, I yearned to have something plunder me in front,
yet feared that it might be many hours in coming. My nipples stood out
stiffly, brushing the timbered wall, being scraped by it. I drew back,
sticking out my bottom farther. "There, that's better," mistress said to
me. "Keep your nipples away from that wall, its most unpleasant."
Master ordered us fed. We weren't particularly hungry, but I soon
learned that filling our bellies wasn't exactly the point. About an hour
later Melissa and I both had to poop. Gingerly our butt cocks were
removed, to gasps of relief from us. We pooped into our buckets. Then
master used the opportunity of our shit-greased holes to insert larger
shafts up us. We whined and moaned but did not say any words, for we
did not want mistress' whip again.
It was then that mistress "helpfully" suggested to master that a
girl could always take more up her butt after she'd been whipped.
Master needed no further encouragement. He was determined to get us
open for him.
By the time the night ended Melissa and I were so thoroughly worn
out that we offered no resistance as master pulled out our dildoes and
inserted a third set. Our poor bottoms were bright red. We'd been
struck with everything master had on hand. Melissa and I, barely able
to stand, were ushered by the men from the woodshed. We looked like
stuffed tomatoes as, our butts filled to bursting by the dildoes, we
were escorted to our bedchamber.
Smooth, cool satin sheets awaited us, but our butts stung like
fire when the men tried to sit us on them. We finally plopped directly
onto the beds on our bellies, and hastily made to rub ourselves to
orgasm with our hands.
ROLLER FOR PRESIDENT!
Qualifications for the Job:
Foreign Policy:
Subscribed to ÔForeign Affairs.Õ
Previous Offices Held:
Ran for President of the 8th grade.
Appeal to Women:
ÔReadsÕ every issue of Playboy.
Political Know-How:
Bought Pat BuchananÕs book, ÔRight from the Beginning.Õ
Political Contacts:
Has postcard from Pat Buchanan.
Record in Law Enforcement:
Only one arrest.
Military Experience:
Rented ÔApocalypse Now.Õ
Religious Affiliation:
Watched Waco on T.V.
Character:
Worked as a salesman.
DOES NOT DRIVE A JAPANESE CAR!
What Roller Can Do for You:
1. Masturbate
2. Start a new porno magazine (text only).
3. Take your daughter on Air Force One.
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to: roller666@aol.com Free back issues: send e-mail to
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Phenix City, AL 36868 U.S.A. Naughty Naked Dreamgirls (Library of
Congress ISSN: 1070-1427) is copyright 1996 and a trademark of
Andrew Roller. Chat: alt.sex.stories.d END OF 9 EMISSION