Andrew Roller Presents
FUCK DECENCY
Issue No. 161
Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in
Vegas Vixen
Chapter One
One by one we filed out of the carriage. We were made to walk
between a row of whip wielding women. They slashed their whips at
the air as we passed between them. As you can imagine I walked as
briskly as my heels would allow. My bare bottomcheeks jiggled an
unwanted invitation to the women as I struggled to get past them.
Behind me Amy and Pia walked just as fast, followed by the men. Pia,
apparently for her sin of peeing, got struck twice by whips, which sent
her leaping and made her cry. The violent man also took a strike or
two, but the rest of our bottoms were spared.
Once past the row of women I slowed my pace, for the vampires
and Bella seemed not to like our fast walking. Before me were granite
steps, leading up to an entryway. I seemed to be in the presence of a
pre-Civil War mansion. The graceful lines of the mansion soothed me a
bit, and as I mounted the steps I actually endeavored to walk as
daintily as I could. At the top we were led inside.
It was with puffed faces and tightened bottoms that we were
introduced to a man inside known simply as "the Count." He was
dressed in a tuxedo, in sharp contrast to our nudity. He admired each of
us girls in turn, taking us by the chin as he drank in our charms. Even
the males did not escape his admiration. He was more forward with
them, actually grasping each one's prick and judging its ability to fuck.
Apparently he found none of them wanting.
Bella whispered in the Count's ear and he returned to Amy. "Ah,
so you are a very naughty girl, eh?" the Count said to a trembling Amy.
"I hear you've been re-named 'Tinklebell." He looked round at her bottom
and solicitously brushed away a stickerbur or two which yet clung to
her heinie. "Well, we are perfectly equipped here to teach little girls
how to hold their pee," the Count said in a reassuring tone. Then he
stood before us once more and snapped his fingers. The vampires led us
away.
By now we all had to pee pretty badly. But none of us were given
an opportunity for relief. We girls were separated from the boys, who,
I learned later, were chained in the stables for the pleasure of the
female sex. We girls were each put in a separate room, where our hair
was done and our faces made up. Our wrists were untied. Beyond I
could hear the chatter of voices.
When I had been attended to I was told to mount a small
staircase. At the top was a curtain which I was told to pass through.
Suddenly I found myself in the midst of a night club, surrounded by
rowdy males. They cheered my entrance. I didn't know what to do
except blush.
Across from me, off to the left a bit, Pia suddenly appeared. She
was still in her corset, as I was in my blouse. Of course our breasts
were still required to be bare. Then, off to the right, Amy appeared,
dressed in her gloves and stockings.
I was standing on a platform. I could not step forward without
falling off the platform and crashing to the floor. Yet, a woman behind
me urged me forward. She wanted me to go out to the center of the
club. The only way I could get to the center, I found, was by lowering
myself onto a horizontal pole. I would have to pull myself along the
pole until I reached the center. There my pole met the horizontal poles
of Amy and Pia. To help us in our task, someone had covered the top
halves of the poles with whipped cream.
Daintily I lowered my pussy onto the pole. The cream felt
desperately cool against my aroused labia, and I cooed with joy. Then,
recovering myself, I began to pull myself along the pole by placing my
hands in front of me on the pole and pulling my hips forward. Each
movement forward of my hips brought new pleasure to my loins. The
men urged me forward, and held out their hands to catch me if I fell.
The last thing I wanted, though, was to fall into the hands of strange,
loud men. They did not touch me, but by their panting I knew that they
very much wanted to.
Amy and Pia pulled themselves along their respective poles. Pia
sighed as her pole brought her pleasure, Amy was a mixture of desire
and desperation, her bladder being full once more.
At the end of my pole was a broad rubber girdle which prevented
me from pulling myself forward any farther. Each of us girls stopped
where the girdle indicated. Beneath us was a wide, deep well. We
looked at each other with blinking eyes. We were only a few feet apart
now.
Pia looked down at the well. "I hope you can swim," she said to
Amy.
"Not very good, why?" Amy asked, eyeing the water beneath her
with trepidation.
"Because I'm going to knock you in there," Pia replied, indicating
the water beneath them. "And you too," she said to me.
"Why?" I asked.
"The survivor doesn't have to spend the night in the nursury," Pia
said calmly. She was called to and a pillow was tossed up to her. Then
they called me, and tossed me a pillow, which I caught. Amy nearly fell
from her pole trying to catch the pillow the men tossed to her. She
missed the catch and the pillow fell into the water.
"I can't swim!" Amy cried woefully. Somebody threw Pia a pair of
children's water wings. Pia blew them up and then passed them to Amy,
who put them on. She put one of the inflated yellow sleeves over each
of her upper arms.
"You look like a little duckie," I said to Amy.
"That's better than drowning," she pouted. A pillow was tossed to
Pia, who caught it and passed it to Amy. The little girl hugged the soft,
dry pillow.
"Mmm, protec' me from all these evil people," Amy commanded her
pillow.
Bella suddenly appeared from the crowd. She commanded us girls
to kiss. Reluctantly each of us leaned forward and our lips met in a
three-way kiss. Bella commanded us to kiss with our tongues, and we
did so. It was with flushed faces that we finally broke our kiss, again
at Bella's command.
"At the whistle you girls will commence fighting," Bella ordered
us. You will fight until two of you have been knocked into the well. The
losers will have to spend the night in the nursery."
"I'm too big to play in a nursury!" Amy replied. There were howls
of laughter.
"This playroom comes with whips and chains," Pia said softly to
Amy. The girl's eyes bulged in fright. Mine were just as wide.
A loud whistle came to my ears. Suddenly I was hit with a pillow
and nearly lost my balance. I recovered, and retaliated against Pia.
Amy sat watching, like a scared kitten.
"Come on!" Pia said to Amy, giving her a playful swat with her
pillow. "You'd better try your best or I'll send you swimming!"
Amy, her reverie broken, swatted Pia and then me. We older girls
gave her a chance, not hitting too hard in response to her blows. But
with each other we were less merciful.
Soon our pillows began spewing goose down. Amy, by now
gleefully entranced with the fighting, hit harder than ever. It was
about then that I realized we were actually fighting not with pillows,
but with pillow cases stuffed with loose goose down. The pillow cases
had been sewn shut, but the pillow fight was beginning to burst them.
Amy took to hitting only Pia, and the girl warned her not to so
concentrate her blows. But Amy didn't listen. So, finally, Pia landed a
hard one right in Amy's face and the girl went tumbling from her pole.
With a scream she splashed into the water.
"Hey, don't get us wet!" Pia replied to Amy, who took to
floundering in the water like a drowning sailor. The men pulled her out.
I was as afraid of the men as I was of the "nursury." I fought Pia
ever more vigorously, but soon both I and her were battling with empty
pillowcases. All the goose down was floating around us or in the pool
below. Casting the pillowcases aside, we each leaned forward and
grasped the other's flailing arms. We began wrestling, to cheers from
the men. Amy was given a can of CoolWhip and told to squirt us.
Gleefully she complied, making our limbs and bodies slick with spurting
cream.
Pia and I fought on, each putting the other *in extremis* again
and again over the threatening water. As we fought the water was
made colder and colder. Amy had remarked at the chilliness of the pool
when she'd gotten out of it. Now it was even colder, and I could feel
the chill wafting up onto my ankles.
"You're going to lose anyway, go now before the water gets any
colder!" Pia admonished me.
"No, it's you who is going to get a dunking!" I replied. "Fall now,
so I can pee on you!"
"No peeing unless I say so!" Bella replied, to the remorse of us
both.
Amy got down on her knees before Bella and clasped the woman by
the dress. "Please, ma'am, I *must* go!" Amy pleaded. Bella lifted her
skirt and commanded Amy to lick her pantied pussy. Amy gasped with
shock and refused.
"You will, soon enough," Bella replied. She told the men to lift
Amy up. They did so, holding the girl's legs apart and keeping her arms
immobile. Bella ordered Amy's legs and bottom held out over the pool.
Then she gave Amy permission to pee, right into the pool! Amy
gratefully complied as Pia and I looked on with shocked dismay. Pee
spouted from between Amy's legs, falling in a clean arc into the pool,
making rings of ripples in the placid water.
With a screech I suddenly fell from my perch. I had lost! But I
clutched Pia by the arm, and she fell right behind me. We both landed in
the pool with a loud SPLOOSH!
"Aaack!" I screamed, as the icy water nearly froze my nipples off!
Pia let out a wail as she suffered the same fate. Suddenly the men,
still holding Amy aloft, tossed her into the water. She screamed as she
was flung into the icy liquid.
Shivering, we girls took to splashing each other. Even Amy,
struggling to stay afloat with her water wings, took to the new game.
Finally we could stand the cold no more and reluctantly paddled to the
side, where Bella, the men, and the "nursury" awaited us.
During the splash fight Pia and I had each secretly peed. The cold
water was more than our bladders could bear. As soon as we'd been
lifted from the pool, however, Bella instructed us to pee.
"Uh, we can't," Pia said, gulping and looking at me. "Not with all
these men here."
"I'll bet," Bella said quietly. "You naughty girls peed in the pool,
didn't you?" Pia and I hung our heads guiltily. Bella knew how badly
we'd needed to go, and now we couldn't.
"But it was so *cold*," Pia said plaintively.
"Then you should have asked me for permission," Bella said. "I'm
sure I would have given it."
"Oh, of course," Pia, her head still bent, said sarcasticly.
"Do I detect a note of disrespect in your voice, young lady?" Bella
asked Pia.
"No ma'am," Pia replied. But she shivered, and not just from the
cold.
"To the nursury!" Bella announced, and the men who had pulled us
from the pool now gleefully led us from the club. But they still
refrained from touching us, though I think each of us girls, thanks to
the love-liquor, would have welcomed it.
My eyes nearly popped out of my head when I beheld the "nursury."
It was a playroom for sadists, equipped with manacles, racks, whips,
and all other manner of torturous implements. We girls stood at the
door to the room, trembling.
"Clothing is not permitted within," Bella said. The men eagerly
stripped us of our remaining attire, including our heels. Even Bella
permitted herself to be undressed. Her body was decadently beautiful.
THE END
(hey, what do you expect from a hobo?)
Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in
Beach Western
Chapter One
There are many curious shops in L.A., and one of them is the Beach
Western. Hard along Malibu beach, its rather like Nudies. It sells a
variety of cowboy hats, plus saddles, spurs, and the occasional riding crop.
(Actually one of its better selling items.) What swimsuited beachgoers
would want with a riding crop, or spurs for that matter, is difficult to
fathom.
Ashlee had just recently started clerking at the Beach Western. It
was her first job, her first summer job, and her first job straight out of
high school, as she liked to tell the occasional conversationalist. One
such was a woman bordering on 40, who seemed to have a heightened
interest in western wear, at least from the diligence with which she
followed Ashlee around the shop.
A heavy smell of leather permeated the Beach Western, hanging from
the ceiling in a kind of spider-webbed canopy of odors, clinging to the
ersatz rafters that hoped to make one think one was in Kansas. Given
Ashlee's aura of innocence, the change of venue taking place in one's mind
was not too difficult.
Genieve certainly could imagine she was in Kansas. Despite living in
a virtual Sodom by the Sea, Ashlee's eyes were bright and clear. Her
cheeks had a pink, youthful blush to them that older women envied. And
the firm curves of her body showed off a female form newly minted.
Those curves weren't too hard to see. The standard uniform for a Beach
Western clerk was, appropriately enough, a white midriff with matching
white bikini panties. How unusual that an outfit that would bring a
citation anywhere else could pass for a store uniform in L.A. The white
midriff which bared Ashlee's shoulders and gave an ample view of her
ample bosom was, of course, in keeping with the attire of maidens (and
hookers) in the Old West. And her thong bikini panties were just right for
a quick dip in the ocean at the end of the day.
The little bows which held up Ashlee's bikini panties swished along
her flanks as she walked. Genieve followed.
"Over here we have hats," Ashlee explained. Her booted feet raised
up on tip-toe as she reached for a ten-gallon hat perched on a high shelf.
Ashlee's bottomcheeks bulged out as she stretched for the merchandise.
Suddenly she felt cold steel press against her bare heinie. Still
stretching, she turned her head about. Genieve was holding an iron brand
against her lightly tanned bottom...
GOLLIWOGG
Copyright 1996 by Alan Freer
WOGGŐS CAW
The dark flock flies overhead again
to rest perched
on telephone pole and wire.
Crow or Raven?
I donŐt know;
they are black
they have wings
they caw.
In my mindŐs eye I see
Morrigan the Raven
Celtic goddess of war
writhe into her shape-changed feathery form
soaring above the doomed
to spawn the death
which awaits her wake.
Caw Caw
HughesŐ Crow circles behind guiltily
grubbing battleŐs afterbirth--
a black mosquito
glutting bloated corpses.
Caw Caw Caw
This is now a second lesson:
So much depends upon
a black bird.
AND IN THE END...
STRANGER DANGER?
ŇThe majority of the children murdered in this country are killed by
parents and stepparents, many of whom say they were trying to
discipline the child for behavior like blocking the TV or crying too
much.Ó
- Time, October 2, 1995, pg. 62.
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-END OF 161 EMISSION
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