Andrew Roller Presents
FUCK DECENCY
Issue No. 134
Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in
Bordello Girls
Chapter One
I was surrounded by cocks. From the men at the door to master, to
Steve, caged and waiting in his cell, I could go nowhere without running
smack into the impaling desire of a manÕs penis. I treasured my panties
more than ever. My fingers ran along the drawstrings and touched the
bows that held them up. I did not want to lose them. Even if it meant
being whipped (as master surely intended!), I did not want to separate
myself from my last shred of feminine protection. My panties covered my
pussy, and someone would have to get this fake hymen, this last shred of
dignity, off me before they could fuck me.
ÒI am Lord Algonquin,Ó master said. As if names mattered. I feared
I would never escape his evil grasp. Bare, stripped for action, he let his
strap dangle menacingly down his thigh. I stared at him, thinking myself
gazing at Zeus. He was Indian, I realized, with French blood intermixed,
giving him incredible natural power mixed with the worst of French
depravity. ÒWhat is your name?Ó he asked me.
I said nothing. For a long moment I stood there, my eyes fixed on his
cock, not realizing he had addressed me. Alison bumped me. Her hip
against mine.
ÒJ-Jennifer,Ó I spluttered. I was quite eager to answer, over-eager,
once I realized heÕd asked. I did not want to suffer any punishment.
ÒLower your panties, Jennifer.Ó
The words went off like some gong of Death in my head. I could not
believe he had asked me that. I could not believe, yet what else WOULD he
ask? There was nothing else he would ask.
Master nodded at Alison. She was under the same injunction. She
began lowering her panties. I followed her example, fearfully, wishing
somehow I could disobey. Yet to disobey would be to keep my panties on.
Together we lowered our undies down our long thighs, revealing our bush
together, sliding our panties down to our knees, then beyond, down over
our slim calves to our ankles.
ÒVery good. Hang them on the ends of the trestle,Ó master ordered
us. With shivering fingers I stepped out of my panties and lifted them up
in the air. I took a moment to straighten them, then looped a leghole over
the trestle. There was a small jutting post at either end of the trestle
and my panties went over one, while Alison walked to the other side and
hooked her panties there. Two pairs of panties now adorned the trestle at
either end. In the middle was a smooth bar of wood.
ÒGet the cushion. YouÕll need it,Ó master told Alison. She returned
to the closet. She walked saucily, letting her hips sway with a pronounced
sexiness, as if she enjoyed the prospect of a belting on her bottom. I saw
that her weals were not as severe as IÕd thought, and were fading already.
She wanted more. She needed more.
ÒAgh!Ó A cry from SteveÕs cage. He was against the bars, facing us,
his cock thrust through them with awful desperation. His balls,
protruding between his powerful thighs, were too full to get through the
bars. He jammed his testicles between two of the iron posts, as if trying
to shove them out of his cage, away from himself. His underpants, which
he was supposed to be wearing, were shoved down to his knees. There
they were stretched between both legs, looking to be ripped apart any
minute by his athletic legs. ÒThereÕs something...something in the food!Ó
Steve gushed. His eyes were bulging. He rammed his cock out between the
ironwork of his cage, trying desperately to fuck the air.
ÒOooooooooh!Ó A long wail from Melissa. I turned to her cage, saw
her thrust her fingers down between her legs. She began furiously rubbing
her pussy.
ÒNO! Do not touch yourself!Ó MasterÕs voice boomed like a foghorn
across the room. Startled, suddenly aware again that she was with
others, Melissa froze. She let wet fingers slide slowly up her tummy,
away from her puss. I saw she was eager beyond belief for a thorough
fucking, though moments before she was simply ensconced in her cage,
eating, watching us, wondering. Wet trails of delicious honey gleamed
their way up her belly, the evidence of her sudden onslaught of female
yearning. ÒGood,Ó master said to her. He seemed pleased by her instant
obedience. ÒYour arousal is for my pleasure only.Ó He let the words hang
on the air a moment. He was in complete control. We were but his slaves,
his subjects, sex slaves on a sex farm, milked for his pleasure, then
perhaps auctioned away to other masters. I had heard the tales, read
about them in the paper. Of sex rings, of men, perhaps women, who
kidnapped youngsters, young females, and sold them one to another.
Behind me Alison tied down a black cushion to the trestle. She used soft
black ropes to tie it down, one at either end of the cushion. I saw the
ropes went through rings on the cushion to secure it. Little rings, made of
silver, innocuous. Alison laced on the cushion, then stepped back and
admired her handiwork.
ÒNow bend over it,Ó master told her. He nodded at me. ÒYou too.Ó
Alison took my hand. I turned to her. She was biting her lip. Then she let
herself relax and urged me over the trestle with her. We presented our
bottoms to Lord Algonquin, trembling, our hind flesh shaking with our fear.
ÒTry to relax,Ó Alison said to me. Over the trestle, my head bumping
hers, our heads closer to the floor than our bottoms, I saw that she was
consoling herself as much as anything. Amidst the tangle of hair, our long
locks, mine as blonde as her own, she spoke again. ÒSpread yourself.Ó I
did not know what she meant at first. Then I felt her leg cross over mine.
She was opening her legs, spreading her stance!
ÒLegs apart!Ó I heard master order crisply. With difficulty I altered
my stance, not wanting to move at all. I opened my legs to him, sought
purchase farther out, my thighs wide, my cunt peeping out and feeling the
coolness of the roomÕs air upon it. In back of us he throbbed, he watched,
his member stiffly presented.
ÒGrasp the lower bar,Ó Alison told me. ÒYou will make friends with
it. It will be your only remnant of sanity. Hang on tight and donÕt let go.Ó
Her words were more than just advice. They were a sensual flow over my
senses. With my small hands I found a bar close to the feet of the trestle
and grabbed it. I was feeling the effects of the poisoned, love-potioned
food now. My womb rippled against the cushion. My cunt offered, a fig
cupping itself between my legs, ripe and tight, my legs open to show it off
to best advantage. My bottom reared high. I was a colt in a stable,
unbroken. Master would ride me.
A bustle of footsteps. A sound of unlocking. Soft feet, padding,
clicking, small feet.
ÒMelissa!Ó I breathed. She crouched before me and, in answer, roped
one of my hands to the bar. A guard had let her out. He stood behind her,
watching, making sure she tight me tightly. She fumbled with the knot but
got it right. I tested my bonds after sheÕd secured my second hand. There
was no escape. I was put over. I could not stand. Knocking over the
trestle was out of the question, it was too heavy. Alison was tied next.
As Melissa tied her she turned to me and kissed me.
ÒReady?Ó she asked. She sounded excited, as if sheÕd yearned for
this all her life.
ÒNo,Ó I answered honestly.
ÒAh, he will rip you apart with the whip and then shove himself up
your ass,Ó she whispered to me.
ÒHe has a belt,Ó I observed, trying to keep my senses as this
beautiful, abused woman beside me actually desired the punishment we
were about to receive.
ÒThe guards can bring him anything he wants,Ó she answered. ÒIt is
how I got my cunt pierced. I bent over for a strapping and he gave it to me
good. Then a woman suggested he pierce me, so he could feel the cold
steel of his ownership whenever he rodded me, my ring against his cock.
They did me then and there, she and him, in front of a whole banquet of
people. I sobbed and cried and begged, but they did me just like that, not
caring. Afterwards he took me to Tahiti and pampered me all weekend.
Then it was back to business on Monday, as a secretary in his office at
work. Nobody knew I had been claimed by him, ringed through my puss and
made his forever. Whenever I went to the bathroom that day, sitting down,
lifting my skirt, I could see him there, his cold steel ring, right through
me, making me his.Ó Her words were like a drug upon me, making me shift
in behind. Melissa had tied down my ankles as she spoke and I found
myself now with only my bottom to move, and that barely at all, but I
flexed my cheeks and savored the coolness of the air upon them. My little
rosehole, never violated, gulped at air with its tiny mouth. I remembered
the bride, impaled in her bridal bedroom. My mouth sought AlisonÕs and our
tongues dueled, twisted. Our lips merged. We fucked each other suddenly,
right there, our tongues stabbing into our offered mouths. We had no
cocks, only tongues, but we used them on each otherÕs mouths as if we
were rapacious males.
Master saw our flexing, our happy contortions of our hineys, and
knew we were ready.
SWAAAAK! The belt came against me first, a swift blow, unsparing.
I cried out, surprised, my mouth breaking from AlisonÕs.
ÒOuuuuch!Ó Alison cried lustily as I did, the belt striking her next.
Right on our bottoms we were struck, lashed, lashed again. Master
whipped us with manly skill, his cock throbbing lewdly, his balls hanging
down. I spied his manhood from my view underneath the trestle, bent
over, it was as large as he was, utterly imposing, utterly convincing.
SWAAAAK! The belt was relentless. My bottom moved under it. My
hips churned. I turned my head to find the nasty Nymph whoÕd tied me. I
spied Melissa, crouched by SteveÕs cage, swishing a feather temptingly
near his out-thrust cock. Poor Steve, he had gotten no relief. He was at
his bars as before, stabbing air, vainly hoping to make contact with
MelissaÕs sweeping feather. Now and then she shivered it along his shaft,
or poked his peehole, but mostly she avoided him, playing on his lust and
driving him insane. All this I saw in just a few seconds, guessing the
rest, my head turned toward them as I hooted under the flailing belt.
At last, my bottom heaving, burning, the belting abated. Master had
given us many strokes, all on our clenching, squeezing hineys, nowhere
else. Our legs spread as majestically as ever, white and pure, our backs
bent with the sleekness of twin female statues, our breasts hung like ripe
fruit just inches from the floor. Tears ran down my cheeks, AlisonÕs. We
cried like little girls at school, forgetting our homework, paying for it
with punished bottoms.
Master advanced. Like a school principal he advanced, his cock
preceding him by two city blocks. It jabbed me as he came up behind me.
His calloused hands took hold of my small, pert bottom, opened it. My
cheeks spread like halves of a split melon. He yanked me apart, thrust at
my hole. Melissa, called from her duties with Steve, squirted baby oil on
his thing. Then she cupped his balls and urged him into me.
I felt a huge impending force at my anus. ÒNo! Not there!Ó I cried.
ÒYes,Ó Alison answered. ÒIt is how everyone greets Lord Algonquin.
Even Steve will have to be buggered.Ó I guessed Melissa hadnÕt heard, for
she seemed to delight in my impalement. I heard her giggle as she tried to
stuff masterÕs huge thing into my tiny, fragile hole.
ÒNo! Please! I canÕt!Ó I yelled. I was in dead earnest now. I could
not bear the pressure in my rectum. Already his peehole was within me,
the rest of his cockhead surging forward.
ÒGive me your tongue,Ó Alison urged. ÒIt will make it easier. Fuck
me with your mouth as he fucks your ass.Ó
ÒOh, please....Ó I wailed. And then he popped me open. Quite simply,
my anus yielded. I must have relaxed, for I felt no pain. Perhaps it was
the food heÕd given us. The strawberries, or something in the cream. I
felt an enormous presence in my bottom. Within me more he urged now,
and I sought Alison with my tongue. She opened for me and I stuck my
tongue into her mouth even as Lord Algonquin rodded me from behind.
I was shafted. I was full. He was within me and moving deeper
every second. My womb yearned but it was my gut that received him.
Right up me he went, splitting me, forcing himself into my virgin
recesses. And then, at last, he eased down, but did not remove himself.
Then up again he went, more boldly this time. I coughed and spluttered
into AlisonÕs mouth, forgetting my tongue. She stuck hers into my mouth
instead and began fucking my mouth with it now as her boyfriend/master
did me from the rear.
A tickling at my cunny. A childÕs finger, the nail barely grown out,
unpainted. Melissa! Like some preschooler she quested within my cunt
lips, found my button, rubbed.
ÒDonÕt, Melissa!Ó I shouted. I was too full, I did not need to tighten,
to clamp down with lust, flexing my bottom upon his big thing. I needed to
relax, to be open, nothing more. I wanted to get this over with and be gone
from here. She would wed me to him, make me come upon him, squeeze
him and hold him fast with my nether cheeks. ÒMelissa!Ó I cried again.
ÒDo not fight it. He wants to come,Ó Alison said between stabbing
breaths, raping me with her tongue. I sucked on her tongue to keep her
from speaking. In back I felt my ass tighten around him. Gleefully he took
advantage of me and shafted himself within my tightness. I cried harder,
letting my tears really come now, uncaring. I was hurting in my tenderest
places and people were raping me! They did not care about me, they only
cared for their own pleasure. I was just a thing to them, to be used,
tossed away. Alison raped my mouth and master my hole, Melissa teased
my cunt as if she owned it, as if it were her own.
A frightful thrust. Deep, all-penetrating. I bucked, trying to throw
him off. And then it was in me! A sperm enema, shooting into my bowels,
the only type of enema a female should ever submit to. Alison was my
gynecologist, one woman helping another, or was it Melissa? And master
was but the giver of the enemas, a horse, a stallion, brought from the
paddock to give me what I needed.
***
ÒDo not play with yourself, Melissa,Ó Master said quietly. We sat
with tear-stained faces in a large mahogany dining room. Our bare
bottoms rested uncomfortably on cushions of fine woven satin. My
wetness between my legs, upon my asshole, would surely stain my
cushion, I knew. But master seemed not to mind. Nor did the owner of the
club in whose care we were now placed, and who would surely bill master
for the re-upholstery of the chair.
HOLY JOE SOUNDS OFF
(thatÕs Ôsounds off,Õ not Ôgets offÕ)
Recently I was reading about sexually abused young girls in the
magazine, U.S. News and World Report. And it said they need a mentor. I
want any sexually abused young girls to know theyÕre free to have Holy Joe
as their mentor!
HereÕs my plan for sexually abused young girls: first, we need to get
you some quality lingerie. If youÕre still wearing PJÕs, no wonder you
think sex is abusive! Obviously the guy is just going to love you and leave
you if youÕre dressed in pajamas! You need to wear something sexy to keep
his interest up.
Click on this: http://www.fredericks.com ItÕs the web site for
FrederickÕs of Hollywood. Their latest catalogue is their 50th Anniversary
Catalogue, Volume No. 101, Issue No. 423. When you get it, look on page
40. Look at Item C. Call up FrederickÕs and tell them you want an
ÒExquisite European lace shelf bra.Ó This will frame and lift your breasts
so that even if theyÕre small theyÕll still be shown off to their best
advantage. A matching G-string comes with it. And some gloves to keep
your hands warm in the wintertime. (They think of everything.)
Practise wiggling your ass when you walk down the street. When
you see a rude dude that youÕre afraid will just use you, tell him, ÒIÕve got
on an Exquisite European lace shelf bra and a matching G-string. But you
can only see them if you promise to fuck me A LOT!Ó Stress that he canÕt
just use you and dump you. He needs to fuck you every day, day in and day
out.
Some guys, though, prey on young girls. You need to keep these guys
in line. You canÕt just rely on a sexy G-string for this sort of guy. You
need item B. (Also on page 40.) Look at this gal! She has on a bikerÕs cap
with a big chain across it. You know this female means business! SheÕs
also wearing a leather playsuit. One look at that suit and any man will
probably be down on his knees begging for mercy. To top it off, sheÕs got
on long Òpot holeÓ mesh gloves. Tell the guy thatÕs all the holes heÕs gonna
see unless he does just as you say.
But donÕt stop there. If you ride horses, ÔborrowÕ a riding crop from
your riding academy. Or buy one of those wooden spatulas at the grocery
store. Whack his ass with it as soon as he enters your bedroom. For
particularly bad boys, keep a knife handy. He wonÕt want to be
Bobbittized, I assure you!
So there you have it. Holy JoeÕs prescription for being an ÒInvincible
Kid.Ó Wear sexy lingerie, or if necessary lingerie made of black leather.
Put on a bikerÕs cap. And keep a knife or a riding crop handy.
By the way, in the U.S. News article thereÕs a psychiatrist, Bruce
Perry, who treats sexually abused young girls. He says that what he does
is give them Clonidine! IÕve taken Clonidine. It does one thing. It puts you
to sleep. Even in the smallest amounts, Clonidine will put you to sleep.
Clonidine is, in my opinion, little more than a Ôrape pill.Õ IÕm only a hobo,
but in my opinion the last thing a girl whoÕs afraid of being abused wants
is Clonidine!
FREE PLUG
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x: Do you know who invented the floppy disk drive?
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x: The inventor of the floppy disk drive.
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-END OF 134 EMISSION
- U.S. News, November 11, 1996, pgs. 62-73.