Andrew Roller Presents
FUCK DECENCY
Issue No. 108
Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in
Bottoms in Bondage
Chapter Two
ÒYour own cunt is all that needs to pee, IÕll bet,Ó Master growled. He
turned to me then, I gazed up at him with imploring eyes, trying to hold
back my wrigglings. His hands reached out to my breasts. He was gloved,
wearing fine leather. Roughly he grabbed my bosoms as if they were but
market fruit, on discount, held and squeezed them. I squeaked out a
protest, said nothing. I was ungagged but too afraid to speak, gagged by
the fearfulness of my surroundings. Master opened my mouth. He felt my
gums, looked at my teeth, nodded. I felt relieved that IÕd seen a dentist
recently. My teeth sparkled whitely for him. Gently he closed my mouth,
strode to Sandra. He undid her gag, quickly but with a certain tenderness,
as if he feared pulling out strands of her gorgeous hair if he worked to
quickly. Then he examined her teeth, and next her bosoms, his gloved
hands cold and unfeeling against her soft, pliant flesh. Again he nodded.
Rose was next. He said nothing of her youth, as if raping a child
were merely one more treat for his wicked bed. Women, children, it made
no difference to him, so long as they could experience pleasure. Linda was
last, jerking from him however she could, yet he treated her not harshly,
seemed to relish her disobedience. He looked at Scotty then, nodded,
lifted Alexis to her feet and looked at Arthur, nodded again. Then he
turned, walked over to Jeffrey. Without greeting the man, he reached out
and grabbed his penis. Jeff was too aroused to complain, though he did
emit a surprised yelp.
ÒYou will be my prize stallion,Ó Master said to Jeff. ÒI expect this
organ of yours to deliver top performance. There is much fucking ahead;
each of these girls has three openings and there are only four cocks among
us. A dozen openings and only four cocks. Are you up to it?Ó
ÒWhat-what about the others?Ó Jeffrey croaked.
ÒThey are older men, they come as they are able,Ó Master replied.
ÒYou are young. You will have to stand in for them, though I myself can
hold my own, I assure you.Ó
ÒI guess I could do it,Ó Jeffrey said. ÒCould we start immediately?Ó
ÒImmediately?Ó Master laughed. ÒOf course not. IÕm famished,
dinner is waiting, a sumptuous feast. YouÕll be allowed to pee, though,
come!Ó Rudely he pulled Jeffrey up by his cock. Fortunately the boy had a
strong one, at full erection, and the yank affected him not, though it got
him right up. I glanced at his balls, but they were too tight to swing or
bob about as he walked, Master leading him by his prick. Arthur rose,
Scotty next. Alexis moved to each of us and bade us behave, then loosed
our wrists.
We stepped from the coach a minute later, all naked and cold in the
late-evening air. Our bodies had warmed the coach, outside it was
decidedly chilly now. Perhaps a cool front had moved in while we rode,
nature hoping to ease the fire in our wombs. It only made us want to piss
even more. I rubbed my wrists. They hurt after their long confinement. I
moved my arms to restore circulation to them.
Their butts naked, flexing manfully in the stillness of the night, the
men stood with their backs to us, a little distance away. I heard pissing
sounds and saw that all four of them were peeing into a fishpond, shooting
at darting goldfish. I approached. MasterÕs pants were at his ankles, his
underwear too. I guessed he would not restore them to his hips when he
was through. The tails of his coat kept his buttocks somewhat concealed,
I grabbed them, lifted them. Without even debating it, I let fly a stinging
slap on his behind.
ÒWhoa!Ó Master cried. Urgent in my need to pee but feeling some
kind of fiery fury, I delivered two more slaps to his hams. Linda made to
do the same, but Alexis restrained her. Rose stood, shivering, reached out
and touched a finger to a dimple in JeffÕs bottom.
ÒAh, God, itÕs wonderful,Ó Jeff exulted, pissing hard into the pond. It
was shallow, the fish could flee but they could not escape. Linda
struggled with Alexis. She delivered a warning slap to her bottom. Sandra
observed all, said nothing. Her hands pressed tightly to her cunt to hold in
her pee.
The men finished, turned to us. Like frightened lambs we stood,
wanting to squat down but knowing we would look ungainly and unladylike,
would piss in grass and splatter ourselves. How I wished to be a man!
Carefree, peeing in the air, directing his pee wherever he wished.
ÒCome, girls,Ó Master said, understanding in his voice. Physically
they took us and pushed us ahead of them. In our heels we walked, picking
our way across the lawn. A large house loomed before us. I prayed that I
would not step into any holes with my spiked heels. Soon we reached the
broad stone steps of the house, safe at last, though only relatively so. We
mounted them. We could feel the menÕs eyes on our bottoms, evaluating
us, admiring our desperateness. Despite our urgent need we endeavored to
walk daintily, all of us, even Linda. None of us wanted to be found less
ladylike than the next. There was a sensuousness to our plight, I
admitted, glancing back once to see the four erect cocks mounting the
steps behind us.
We reached the landing. It was smooth, marbled, though I think the
stone was carved from a lesser rock.
ÒRing the bell,Ó Master intoned behind us. His words upon our
shivering backs.
ÒDo it quickly!Ó Linda urged. Rose was closest, struck the buzzer
with her finger. A moment later and the heavy wooden door that barred
our entry swung back. A woman greeted us, old and beyond the years of
pleasure. She was clothed, a maidÕs uniform, an old maid. Unblushingly
she ushered us in, four girls still very much in their prime, and quite
naked. The men followed, nodded to her as their cocks bobbed a greeting.
She seemed unmoved. We had interrupted her knitting. Baby shoes,
perhaps, for a favored relative. Fertility at a distance.
Their hands pushing at our bottoms, the men urged us forward. I
wanted to step back, let them fondle me more, but my belly pushed me on.
I could not hold myself for much more than I minute, I guessed, before my
pee would come gushing out. I looked down, saw expensive carpeting,
wished I were still outside on the stone steps.
We were pushed into a room. The carpeting remained, though in the
center of it I saw a stone clearing, dipping slightly at the center, with a
drain there. A kind of ladder rose up there, as if built for children to
climb on. There seemed to be stations built up its height, with handholds
and footholds where one might crouch in mid-air. Five stations, I counted,
one right on top of the next.
ÒMount the ladder,Ó Master called from behind us. I could not hold
myself in much longer, I obeyed unhesitatingly. Like some monkey I
climbed, Rose following, Linda next with Sandra pushing her up by her
bottom. Alexis came last, climbing just a little.
Beyond the width of the ladder I saw two footholds. ÒAssume the
position, dear,Ó I heard Sandra say below me. I looked down. I saw Sandra
put RoseÕs feet into the footholds that lay beyond the side rails of the
ladder. In obeying, Rose presented her bottom most lewdly, assuming a
kind of broad-bottomed squat in mid-air.
I felt far too desperate to disobey. I opened my legs, perched way up
there on the ladder, let my bottom hang down obscenely. I felt thankful
that the butt plug blocked the menÕs view of my bottomhole.
ÒPiss!Ó I heard then, from somewhere below. Without hesitation I
released my golden rain. Rose squeaked as I showered my pee on her
lovely head. Below I heard screams, but each girl was as relieved to
empty herself as she was mortified to be peed upon. I gazed at the walls.
We had been assured of total privacy for whatever perversions we might
undergo, yet I thought I saw eyes beyond the walls, as if a host of people
were watching. They were mirrored walls, stretching to the ceiling, yet
did I make out people beyond, shadowy figures, drinking cocktails and
laughing?
I nearly lost my grip, wondering at the sight. Below the men seemed
to watch us intently, as if praying that none of us fell. Dashing our lovely
bodies to the ground was apparently not in their playbook. Not yet,
anyway.
When we were finished, the men beckoned us down. I did not want to
go. Yet I went down with the others, and awkwardly we stood before
them, all but me dripping with pee.
ÒYou mustÕve had to go really bad!Ó I heard Linda comment to Rose.
ÒWasnÕt me,Ó Rose said, and pointed to me!
Still wearing our butt plugs, our heels reminding us of our ladyhood,
we were ushered by the men into an adjoining room. It was small, made of
stone. There were buckets, filled with water. The men had us stand in the
center of the room. They picked up the buckets and surrounded us. We
huddled amongst ourselves, smelling each othersÕ urine upon our nude
bodies.
SPLOOSH! Suddenly we were hit with water. Master had tossed his
bucketful of water on us. Three more followed at once, thrown by the
other men. We were hit from all sides. We lurched under the blasting
bucketloads. There were more buckets, still filled, waiting to be emptied.
Each man grabbed yet another bucket and threw its contents at us. We
reached for each other, held on for dear life. None of us wanted to be
knocked to the floor. It would be so unladylike, sprawling across the
floor, and it was made of stone.
Soon the pre-filled buckets were empty. The men turned on a faucet,
set low in the wall, and began re-filling the buckets. They were boys
playing water balloon, and for once the target girls were their helpless
captives. We screamed, the men ignored us. Bucketful after bucketful
dashed us in our faces, hit our breasts, cascaded across our bottoms. The
water was icy cold, uncompromising. Our makeup was utterly stripped
from us, our hair was soaked.
As if to grant us some small favor for our sufferings, Master told us
that our butt plugs could be removed. But we would have to do it
ourselves. I felt a wave of relief and panic wash over me.
ÒIÕm not going to pull anything out of my bottom!Ó Linda cried out.
ÒLisa,Ó Alexis said, bending forward as Sandra helpfully unplugged
her. I found Alexis was pointing me to Linda. I walked over to the girl,
touched her shoulder.
ÒBend forward a little,Ó I said. I ran my hand down her spine. She
shivered, complied. I pulled apart the cheeks of her bottom and got hold of
the flanged end of her plug. Linda drew in her breath, held it. I pulled. I
tugged harder. I did not want to break a nail, yanking on this stupid thing!
I pulled again and finally it came out, all brown and greasy looking.
Quickly I tossed it to the ground. It rolled, stopped.
ÒNow you do me,Ó I told Linda.
ÒNo way!Ó Linda cried. I slapped her across her face. I wanted my
plug out, before the men changed their minds! I turned, offered her my
plugged-up derriere. ÒDo it!Ó I hissed. I felt like a girl begging to be
fucked. Linda spread my ass with hesitant hands. I felt an outward
nudging of the plug. ÒYank on it! DonÕt twist it around inside me,Ó I called.
Reluctantly, inexpertly, she pulled on it. Out it came, shitty as hers had
been, and she tossed it thankfully away, flinging it at the men. They
darted out of its path, laughed. She was racking up more misdemeanors
with them than a skateboarder inside a shopping mall! I heard SandraÕs
pop out, saw Alexis do Rose. Thankfully we rubbed our hineys and hoped
we might be able to wash them. The men read our minds. They doused us
again, making us spread our hinds for them and practically giving us
enemas with the thoroughness of their splashings. At last we were drawn
from the stone water closet. We trooped, dripping wet, back across the
expensively carpeted room with the ladder at its center. At least we were
not spoiling the carpet with pee, though someone would have to dry our
footsteps from it.
A woman. Standing in the shadows, with a man. She looked like one
of DraculaÕs daughters, standing there, her eyes softly glimmering. I
passed her. We filed into a hallway. I was the last in line. ÒShe is too
young,Ó I heard the woman say from somewhere behind me. Fingers
swished through my hair. They encircled my throat. Gently, firmly, I was
held back. My girlfriends stumbled before me, their bottomcheeks
receding. A hand held me round my throat and restrained me. My bosoms
peaked in front of me, bare, dripping, the teats uplifted, offered. They
were young breasts, girlÕs breasts. Fingertips snaked out to my teats and
gently clipped the pointed tits. I was drawn around. A mouth came to my
lips, soft, scented. I was kissed deeply. My wet bosoms impressed
themselves into a womanÕs blouse.
ÒTake her away,Ó I heard. Another woman. Other men. I had perhaps
stumbled into a party. There were many rooms in this house. It was a fun
house, with rooms for every taste, every occasion.
Quietly I was led by the hand down a special hallway, a hallway of
my very own. I heard cooing behind me, soft moans, as if I had inspired
the party that kept me from my friends. Did I hear clothes husking off?
The men were undressing. Did I hear womenÕs stockingÕs slithering down
their legs, daintily removed, with panties shimmied down hips and bras
unhooked? I was too far now, out of earshot. A woman led me. I went
with her. I did not protest. I was meek, soft. I wanted to be feminine.
My new fearless leader unlocked a door. She let me in. It was a doctorÕs
office. In a house? I could not understand, did not want to. These people
had too much money. They played strange games. My partner in passion
stepped ahead of me, flicked on more lights. It wa she who had kissed me.
Lost in my wetness, in my coursing limbs, in my shaking and wobbling
tits, I had not identified her clearly. Now my thoughts settled on her more
definitely. She was young. Early 20Õs. I stood naked in the reception
room. She turned, glanced at me, at the stoutly upholstered chairs, at the
magazines sitting patiently in the magazine rack on the wall. ÒWomenÕs
Monthly: No Child is Safe!Ó blared the headline on the magazine on the
wall. Above it, nestled in the rack: ÒCosmopolitan: How to Undress for a
Man.Ó Above that, Seventeen: Ò10 Sexy Things Boys Look for in a Girl.Ó
ÒHave a seat,Ó my woman-friend indicated to me, her eyes pointing
to the nearest chair. ÒThe doctor will be in shortly.Ó
REVIEWS
by holy joe
PlayboyÕs Cheerleaders, $19.95. Color, 55 minutes, VHS. Playboy
Entertainment Group, Inc. Catalogue number: PBV 0796.
Review: Yesterday I found some money in a restroom. I considered
what I should do with it. I could, you know, play the state lottery. That
would help the schools and our children and buy more police to protect us.
Or I could donate it to the PresidentÕs re-election campaign to protect a
womanÕs right to have a partial-birth abortion. Or I could buy food.
So, you may wonder, what did I do with it? None of the above. I
went straight to the video store!
I am told that Playboy is having to recall its Cheerleaders video. Let
my own experience with it serve as a guide. I put it in my VHS machine.
Pretty soon, I found myself begging. ÒNo,Ó I said to the girl in the video
(one of many). ÒYouÕre not going to do THAT, are you?Ó (ÔCause, being a
pervert, I could sort of see where she was heading.) But she did it anyway.
And then the next segment came on. And soon I found myself begging
again. And it happened again, you know, one girl making love to another, or
several girls squirting each other with liquid soap in a shower, or a girl
yanking down her panties while another girl washes her bottom with a
hose.
Well, friend. I thought I could handle this video. I thought my balls
could survive any Playboy video. But instead, I think IÕve actually damaged
them! WeÕre talking major testicular damage here. Also damage to the
other part, the part you have to hang on to when you watch a Playboy video.
John Wayne Bobbitt wouldnÕt trade places with me at this point.
I have not even watched this entire video, and already my dick and
balls are destroyed. So please, listen to your mother. DonÕt buy this video!
But if you do, you have been warned. You are assuming the risk.
ATTENTION FAGGOTS
You may be wondering, ÒWhat sort of fag am I?Ó Well, now you can
obtain a definitive answer. Simply pick up a copy of:
An Encyclopedia of Fairies, $19.00. Paperback book, 482 pages. By
Katharine Briggs. ISBN: 0-394-73467-X. Published by Pantheon (a
division of Random House), 1-800-726-0600.
Review: Ordinarily if you are a woman, let alone a dead woman, you
do not rate too highly in the mental universe of holy joe. But, like Barbara
Tuchman (who is also dead), this woman is worth checking out.
Katharine BriggsÕ greatest work is this book. It first came out in
1976. It is unavailable in any bookstore. The hardcover edition is sold
out. I thought IÕd have to resort to ÒborrowingÓ it from my public library,
but fortunately I found a legal means of supply.
If you are writing a computer game, you will find this book very
useful. It contains all kinds of descriptions of fairies. Not just the Wee
Willie Winkie kind, but also Abbey Lubbers, Goblins, and other creatures.
Bathing fairies are also included.
This book is a compilation of actual research done by the author. So
you arenÕt getting, say, a Tolkien encyclopedia here, listing creatures
spawned in one manÕs imagination. You are actually getting historical
characters that grew out of the legends and lore of the British isles.
If youÕre not Gay, donÕt worry. When youÕre done watching PlayboyÕs
Cheerleaders, youÕll need this.
AND IN THE END...
NUTS APPLY HERE:
tvegue@edreams.com (Tony Vegue) writes: ÒPlease post all further
FUCK DECENCY to alt.ezines. That is the correct forum for full postings of
electronic zines. alt.zines is not.
ÒThanks in advance.Ó
holy joe replies: Sorry, but God died and left me in charge.
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-Naughty Naked Dreamgirls (Library of Congress ISSN: 1070-1427) is
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-END OF 108 EMISSION