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Hey Kids! Be a Man.
S M O K E M A R L B O R O
(and pot too!)
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Andrew Roller Presents
FUCK DECENCY
Issue No. 99
Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in
Bottoms in Bondage
Chapter One
ÒGrab the whip. Whack us as much as you please, but if you hit our
balls you will not be punished, girl, you will be killed!Ó
ÒNot if I run away before you can catch me,Ó I answered. ÒIn girlÕs
baseball we learn to steal boyÕs hearts by stealing bases!Ó
ÒAh, yes, to get their attention, so many pretty asses and legs being
out there onfield already,Ó he said. He strode forward. He spun me about.
ÒPlease, sir! Not again! It hurts too much!Ó I begged.
ÒGet your hand out of the way,Ó he snarled.
ÒOnly if you donÕt spank me,Ó I said, withdrawing my hand in the
hope IÕd found mercy within him.
WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! Three spanks for Miss Mark! I stumbled
away, clutching my rear and bawling like a baby.
ÒGet the whip!Ó SandraÕs husband roared. With snivelling face and
my hiney facing away from him as much as I could, I obeyed. ÒBring it to
me!Ó he ordered. Fearful in my nudity, stripped bare and knowing he could
flay me with it as easily as I he, I presented SandraÕs husband with the
whip. He took it from me, held it in his palms and made me kiss it.
Submissively I received it back from him. ÒRemember,Ó he said. ÒWhip
any manÕs balls and you will not be punished, like we play here, you will be
strung up right from the rafters and left to hang until dead!
I gulped, praying he only wanted to scare me. I did not even glance
at my master. He had no power here. SandraÕs husband smiled. He saw I
was now totally in his grip, his little slave as much as his wife was. ÒYou
shall play softball topless with my wife, and soccer too. Yes, endless
soccer, with your young boobs flying all over the field as I chase you with
that whip.Ó
ÒI will score many goals,Ó I whispered compliantly, not wishing to
offend him. Oh, my God! I must say ÔSir!Õ I whipped up my hand and
offered my cloven fig. ÒI will score many goals, Sir!Õ I yelped, my boobies
shivering.
ÒVery good,Ó he said. ÒAnd I will score many touchdowns, IÕm sure.Ó
For many hours the men speared that poor woman, each flooding her
at last. I whipped away from behind, sometimes softening my strokes to
feather-touches for fear I might accidentally whack their huge balls. At
last they were all empty, but then my work was not, for I was tasked with
bathing their cocks in a bucket and re-energizing them. I had to use my
hands, the space between my boobs, even let them knock on my tight anus
to inspire them to rise again. They seemed pleased with my efforts, for
each rose up and fucked Sandra again.
As the night wore on, I thought more and more of the key on the
uppermost shelf. I plotted and planned. If I stood in a chair, placed my
foot up on the chair back for leverage, I might just be able to reach it.
I waited. The men grunted in Sandra, exchanged places, retreated to
chairs to doze in a haze of spent pleasure. I myself was desperate to pee,
had pissed out a little when no one was looking into the trashcan. Onto
SandraÕs dress.
ÒGet on the bed,Ó SandraÕs husband groaned to me, lifting himself
from his wife. A large pool of semen pooled beneath her buttocks, three
pillows down from where they projected out over the piled-up pillows.
More dripped down from her cunt. It looked like a nasty gash now,
something a mad slasher had given her. ÒMount my wifeÕs face,Ó SandraÕs
husband ordered.
With trepidation moving my limbs, I clambored aboard the bed and
got my own near-virgin puss over SandraÕs much-kissed mouth. ÒHi,Ó I
breathed, gazing down at her eyes. I felt a puff of breath on my hot clit as
she mouthed a reply.
Firm, unyielding hands came to me. SandraÕs husband. I still did not
know his name. /could not remember. He plumped my bottom, impressing
his thumbs into the white flesh. It had been some time now since heÕd
spanked me. I feared he would give me a slap there but he somehow
restrained himself. Quizzically I watched him bind my wrists to the
headboard. It was made of rails and he bound each wrist apart from the
other, letting my elbows hang down, as if I would soon have to hang on for
dear life as something awful happened to me. MistressÕ breath on my cunt,
just centimeters from her face, made me burn to pee as never before, and
burn to do something else with myself down there too.
ÒLick me,Ó I whispered surreptitiously to Sandra as soon as her
husband had departed. She did not obey.
ÒNow for the final tribute, men!Ó SandraÕs husband said gleefully.
ÒRub yourselves as it happens for you will not get another chance to come
in my house. Sandra and the little miss here will be reserved to my
exclusive pleasure from now on, as well as any girls out in the living room
who havenÕt been hauled away to prison by now!Ó
ÒNo!Ó I cried. I turned my head frantically, met the eyes of my
master. (I remembered him now!)
ÒIÕm sorry, but I owe him a debt,Ó my master replied. His eyes had
no fire. He was a defeated man. ÒI hoped, I hoped he wouldnÕt collect on
you, but he did.Ó
ÒShe was too beautiful to pass up!Ó SandraÕs husband beamed at my
master. Just like Achilles and Agamemnon, I thought, remembering a
chapter IÕd read for school. Just one chapter, not the whole book, yet it
had much impressed me. And now I was Briseis!
A whistling sound. My heinie jumped. Alas! I had my tippy toes
spread out behind me, now, my kneeling legs in a wide vee. My toes curled.
I could not stand on them. I waggled my ass like a newly branded cow.
Another whistle. Another shout from me. I mashed my cunt down
into SandraÕs mouth in an attempt to relieve the pain, deflect it with
pleasure. Much needed pleasure, in fact.
Ah! My body writhed as the uncoiling snake of the whip struck me
again, but it felt different now, mixed with the rush of pleasure my cunt
felt, jammed down against mistress. She licked, trying to push me off
with her tongue, for she had nothing else to push with. I responded by
pushing down. It was a contest.
whip! whip! whip! the whip came then, sparkling against my
bottom, making me shiver ever more deeply with pleasure. It hurt, yet it
felt good, awful yet wonderful. I savored each insweeping stroke, felt it
bite across my apple-round bottom, knew I would pay for it later with
dinner taken standing up at the table, yet cared not.
ÒAh, she has both the bottom and the personality for it,Ó SandraÕs
husband marvelled. ÒTrained in but a single night! I shall have two wives
now, and love them equally.Ó In my passion I heard him and agreed. I
bounded atop my new wife-mate, a wife myself, married in bed to the tune
of the whip. At last, from somewhere in the distance, orgasm after
orgasm washed over me, rippling out to my fingertips and down to the
ends of my toes, seizing my nipples with pleasure, flooding my cunt. And
in my lust I released my bladder, peeing all over SandraÕs face.
Bodily I was lifted from the bed. Free at last from the headboard IÕd
clung to, I ran for a bucket the men had prepared for me. Cool water, in a
big steel washbasin-sized bucket. I plunged my bottom into it. Ah, how I
hurt, yet how good I felt! Awful, but awfully good, as they say. The men
gathered round me. I gazed up at them, savoring the silkiness of the
refreshing water on my hot, bulbing bottom. I would plant myself in the
bottom of this bucket and never leave.
I noticed that the menÕs cocks were hard once more. How had they
managed that? They strummed them confidently, as men who have cum so
often they find a new hardness unthreatening, something to delight in,
with little danger of spilling. Had my youthful schoolgirlÕs body
stimulated them to such heights of endurance? Modestly I covered my
breasts with my hands. My feet did not quite touch the floor, rested easily
on tiptoe, so odd was my bucket-enforced posture, my knees bent and
rising up past my breasts, my bottom still wiggling within.
SandraÕs husband took off my hat. He tossed it to a chair. ÒLisa, we
are going to cum on you, and when you are finished smacking your lips
from that, we are going to pee on you,Ó SandraÕs husband told me simply.
There was no argument, I knew that, despite the safety I felt with my
bottom deep down in the bucket. For he could pull me out of it as quickly
as a fisherman yanks up a fish from the fathomless depths of a pond. And
I wanted no more whacks on my bottom this night, prayed I would not
deserve any. Gazing at the cocks I laughed suddenly, so lewd did they look,
so silly, yet all five devoted to me. Giving no other woman their attention.
Somewhere in the middle of my laugh SandraÕs husband shot off. His
sperm hit within my partly opened mouth. My tongue unwittingly caught
it.
And then more! I tried to catch it all, turning my head this way and
that, but it proved too much. All of them came at once, and my poor lovely
hair and face was drenched with sperm. My boobs still I covered, some
last remnant of modesty at least, as they fired and fired away at me.
At last I pulled my hands stickily up from my boobs, baring their
protected whiteness. All else was whiter still, my face, my hair, my
hands themselves, on the outside.
ÒOh, please donÕt pee on me!Ó I cried, remembering suddenly their
second promised release, watching them take up aim with their now-
sagging cocks. Their held themselves to aim this time, instead of to
pleasure themselves.
Ah, again! All over me their pee streaming, destroying my beauty-
parlor perfect hair with absolute finality, filling my mouth and kissing my
newly-available nipples. I plunged a hand into the water of the bucket,
through the suds-like sperm floating there, and rubbed myself to a new
series of orgasms.
Later, much later it seemed, somebody pulled me up out of the
bucket and lay me down atop SandraÕs whimpering, still fastened figure.
My wrists were carefully wrapped together in a soft cord and secured to
the headboard. I lay atop her, my face to hers, my own ass now protecting
her clit but offering itself up instead, elevated by the cushions. I was too
tired to care. Relishing my vulnerability, I drifted off to sleep, knowing
SandraÕs husband was somewhere nearby, his balls filling quickly with
newly inspired seed.
My first awareness was of light. Soft, enveloping light. Daylight.
Early morning. I felt warmth beneath me. I was used to my cool,
antiseptic bedsheets at home. Instinctively, thinking myself to be still in
some odd dream, I snuggled against the warmth. My bottom felt strange. I
felt cool air washing over it, chilly early morning California air, yet it
seemed to burn with some kind of inner heat that licked all across both my
cheeks.
A kiss upon my bottom. Cool, wet. I jerk. It imparts a certain sting
to my flesh, though it is but a kiss. Why is my bottom so sensitive? I
look up, find I cannot move my arms. Before I can turn my head about feet
approach, a blindfold sweeps down over my eyes, plunging me into night
again.
ÒAh, who is it?Ó I ask, still thinking myself in my bedroom, and in
dreamland also. My lips form a pretty O. The thought of a ball gag comes
to my mind. A ball gag?
A finger plunges into my mouth. I suck upon it. A thumb, a penis?
Twin kisses muss my hair. Someone has combed it in the night.
ÒDonÕt worry, itÕs just me,Ó a childish voice pipes up. A breath of
womanliness interlaces it, as if the girl is but a teen, like myself.
ÒI canÕt wake up,Ó I complain aloud. The finger is gone from my
mouth now. It is stroking my hair.
ÒBye,Ó the voice says suddenly. ÒIÕll be back as soon as I can be.Ó
ÒMee to!Ó a higher voice chimes in. It is a voice of girlish indignity,
as if interrupted in some important task. But I was only dreaming of some
innocent sister, my childhood make-believe sister, combing my long lovely
hair. My Little Pony hair. The two of us, we had it, equally long, in Make-
Believeland. Why canÕt I move my hands? I wiggle. I have to go to the
bathroom!
ÒOh, darling. Is that you?Ó a voice asks, then answers itself, as if
having just opened its eyes to take in the world. I wish I could open mine.
Why canÕt I rise from this dream? My bladder is full. Why does my bottom
burn so?
ÒMmm, it is you,Ó the female voice says. I am kissed on the lips, by
someone from below.
ÒWho are you?Ó I ask. ÒLet me wake up! I have to go pee!Ó
A gentle laugh. A sweet insucking of breath, as if the person below
me is suffering some gentle hurt, savoring it almost. Since when have I
ever dreamed that my bed was a woman?
ÒDarling, donÕt you remember the party?Ó a semi-familiar, feminine
voice asks murmuringly. ÒYou are not dreaming. Ah, you cannot pinch
yourself, and neither can I. Enjoy your imprisonment. I see someone
bathed me in the night, slipped fresh sheets under me as I drowsed. How
naughty of you to pee on me! Are you going to do it again now?Ó
ÒOh, my God! You mean I didnÕt -- (recognition flashed through me) -
- didnÕt DREAM all that?Ó
ÒNo, dear. You peed right in my mouth, you naughty little thing, and
if my hands were free IÕd spank you soundly for it right now!Ó
ÒYour wish must be my command, for my bottom hurts terribly right
now!Ó I confided, still half-sleepy and unaware in my night-inducing
blindfold.
ÒYou were whipped, darling, by my husband,Ó the female voice
answered. Mistress!
ÒOh, my!Ó I said, fully awake now. ÒPlease, I must ---Ó What must I
do? I thought a moment, rolled a bit back and forth on the soft body
beneath me. At last, savoring the awfulness of my predicament, I
snuggled into mistressÕ arms. Sandra. Yes. Her name was Sandra. She
kissed me again, right on the lips, asking no invitation, needing none. Our
mouths were petals, twin flowers poised one above the other. I kissed her
back, let her tongue explore within my mouth.
ÒSomeone must let me up,Ó I said at last. ÒUntie me, I mean. IÕm
going to wet the bed...wet YOU if they donÕt.Ó
ÒNobody will,Ó Sandra replied simply. ÒMaster will come when he is
ready, not before. If you cannot hold it you will just have to defile me, but
I warn you that youÕll be punished for it.Ó
ÒBy you?Ó I asked.
ÒNo, dear. We are both slaves now, equally, though He may use you
more gently than me. He knows I am lean and strong, healthy, a full-
grown, full-bodied woman. I MUST take what he gives me, and I made a
vow when we married that I would try my very best. You he will be more
tender with, I hope.Ó She shivered. Then, in a low, meek voice, her
confidence utterly dissolved, she added: ÒIf my wrists were loose, though,
I spring you free in a minute and get us both far away from here. My
husband came in the night and told me all the things he has planned for me
in the coming days. Wretched, disgusting things.Ó She shivered, began
sobbing softly into my golden mane of hair.
BILLS, BILLS, BILLS!!!
(what to do?)
by holy joe
Please donÕt think IÕm a fount of knowledge or anything. I know IÕm
always giving advice to you, but you must consider where I live. I live in a
dumpster. (Behind the elementary school.)
Living in a prime location like a dumpster, I am not limited to my
own thoughts and my own possessions. I literally LIVE in other peopleÕs
thoughts and possessions. I go to sleep in them and I wake up in them. So
I get to read all about other peopleÕs lives; their turmoil, hopes, dreams,
and tragedies. I especially get to see all the juicy stuff that they throw
out so that nobody will ever know.
Consider, then, a missive I came across recently in my home (the
dumpster). It is a letter written by the Niagara Mohawk Power
Corporation to a Mr. Paul Weinman. It details what Mr. Weinman did when
he got fed up with his bills:
ÒDear Mr. Weinman:
ÒIt has come to our attention that, on a number of occasions, you
have enclosed material prepared by you with your bill payment. We must
advise you that this material is, at a minimum, offensive, degrading and
annoying to our personnel and we believe that it constitutes harassment
of the personnel who process your bills.
ÒWe ask you to cease and desist from forwarding any such materials
in the future. If you continue to send this material, we will have no
choice but to refer this matter to law enforcement authorities.Ó
People ask me sometimes, ÒHoe (I mean, Joe!) why do you publish
Fuck Decency?Ó It is for this very reason: so that you can print it out and
send it with your next bill to the electric company! And the water
company, the I.R.S., and the many, many other entities who continually
intrude on your life and take away your money.
As I see it, God made earth for all of us. Did He say, ÒCarve up all
this land so that when a baby is born he gets NOTHING?!Ó Of course not!
What a scam it is to be told, ÒYou must get good grades, a good job, (etc.)
so that you can have someplace to live.Ó To live! The only reason you need
to do all that shit is Ôcause somebody STOLE all the land before you were
born.
So the next time you get a bill, OVERachieve. DonÕt just write them
a check. Include Fuck Decency too. (Just some advice from a pervert in a
dumpster...)
AND IN THE END...
DRUGS ARE GOOD FOR YOU
ÒThe truth is, when he sobered up, when he made a serious attempt
to get his life in order, he took a real good look at his life and he killed
himself.Ó - Newsweek (on Kurt Cobain), August 26, 1996, pg. 53
----------------------- Fuck Decency! -----------------------
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-Naughty Naked Dreamgirls (Library of Congress ISSN: 1070-1427) is
copyright 1996 and a trademark of Andrew Roller.
-END OF 99 EMISSION
- Fuck Decency. The zine for Parental peace of mind.