Andrew Roller Presents
                                              FUCK DECENCY
                                              Issue No. 219

                                   Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in 
                                             Private Places

                                             Chapter Seven

                         (MaxÕs speech continues from last issue:)

Ò...Your young married days of bliss are over.  Now you will actually be his 
wife.  But you will have a big house, with a big lawn, and servants.  Robert 
Redford might pay a million dollars for a quick lay with another manÕs 
wife, but Mistress Lalique requires a bit more for her money.  But when it 
is over you will have a fine new life for yourself, and you will quit your 
job, of course, for it is not fit for a woman of your stature, living where 
you will live, to work for a living.Ó  I turned to look at Jill.  There were 
tears in her eyes.  She wanted what Max offered (who wouldnÕt?) but she 
was sad to bid goodbye to her previous life.  She liked her little condo.  
Now she would have her own private pool, but it was fun sometimes to 
talk with the other couples just like her at the condo, or the older folks, 
winding down after raising children, or the young mothers burdened with 
too many kids, all of them racing around the pool and causing as much 
trouble as they could.  Yet who would not want to live as Mistress of a 
modern-day Tara, with Sam her husband playing Humphrey Bogart?
         Max turned his burning gaze to me.  ÒYes, Flurry,Ó he said, using the 
more feminine variation of my name, the one Jill used, the one that 
sweetly denied my will but promised to care for me and love me.  ÒYou 
will be going back to school, but as JillÕs daughter, not really her daughter 
of course, free to come and go when you please, but, being 13, you will be 
presented as her daughter, though some may wonder when indeed Jill got 
pregnant to have one your age at her age now.  But, a few mysteries are 
not entirely to be frowned upon.  You will be going back to school, a 
private, advanced school, one more suited to your temperament.  YouÕll 
leave in your crisp girlÕs uniform and then come home again at late 
afternoon, everything all certain and proper.  Then, at night, youÕll sleep 
with Jill and Sam, the three of you married together and fucking in your 
big bridal bed.  YouÕll wear a slim wedding band to school on your finger, 
and tease the boys with it, IÕm sure, them wondering which hand and which 
finger indeed means a girl is taken for life, and being left all confused.  Of 
course, if you fancy one, thereÕs no bar to you substituting him for Sam, or 
sharing him with Sam and Jill, as you choose.  Mistress Lalique is only 
laying the foundation for you two.  You may make other arrangements as 
you wish, once youÕre settled.Ó  He gazed longingly at our two slim naked 
bodies, and I realized again he might still be our servant, despite his 
hugeness and the overwhelming dominance of his demeanor.  ÒTell me, 
girls,Ó he said at last.  ÒI know it will be quite a struggle for you to 
accommodate yourselves to the many pricks which wish to invade you, 
including my own.  Yes, you will take me also, when you can handle it.Ó  
His grin widened.  ÒBut, overall, let us say, despite the Civil War you must 
feel inside you as you contemplate all this, do you think you might agree 
to such a scheme, living in a mansion of your own, in the finest part of 
town, and having servants to do your bidding?  ThereÕs no such thing as a 
free lunch of course, even for beautiful, spoilt little girls.  But what say 
you to the entire thing, can you nod your heads that you would like the 
result, at least?Ó  He waited.  I wanted to tell him he was a lousy poet and 
should just talk normally, but with every impatient heave of his chest I 
felt a little poetry from such a monstrous-looking man wasnÕt necessarily 
a bad sign.  At last, imperceptibly at first, Jill nodded.  I copied her.  I did 
not want to, but standing there, weak-kneed, feeling wet between my legs, 
the cool air of the dungeon playing games with my hot, excited flesh, I 
nodded too.  I was but 13, yet I could not deny my hunger to invite males to 
joust with me, though I hoped theyÕd lose and IÕd win.  Secretly, looking at 
MaxÕs big dick, I wished heÕd suddenly paw himself and shoot right there, 
right in front of us, spill his seed uselessly on the floor and then run 
away, embarrassed, frightened of our awesome female beauty.  Jill and I 
would somehow free each other, nod politely with girlish confidence, and 
say, ÔSuch a baby!  He couldnÕt even handle two teenage girls.Õ  Yet, at the 
same time, I wished for it not to happen.  And it didnÕt.  His cock pulsed 
madly, yet Max regarded us with the cool calmness of a cucumber.  There 
was no way this big man was going to flame out.  We stared, he stared 
back.  
         ÒJill,Ó he said.  Words of command.  ÒYour husband is watching.  Get 
yourself down over these cushions now.Ó  She stepped forward.  I imagined 
she was a girl contemplating lovely flowers, not sure if they were 
poisonous, wanting to pick them, perhaps wanting to break open their 
stems and suck out their nectar.  IÕd done such, as a child.  The nectar of 
daisies was sweet.  IÕd wanted to suck on roses but their stems had such 
nasty thorns, IÕd never tried them.  
         Jill regarded the pillows.  Her bottomcheeks shook a little as she 
stood there, contemplating them.  Then she placed one knee on the sofa, 
spreading herself in back, letting me and Max see her private beauty, the 
undersides of her nether cheeks, the sweetness of the cunt.  She would 
display this view for hours to come, I feared, and me too. 

----------------------------------------------------------------
A  R E A D I N G  F U N D  has been established for Stephen Knox, imprisoned 
in a federal penitentiary for ordering a swimsuit video featuring teenage 
girls.  To help provide books to Knox (formerly a Phd. candidate at Penn 
State), send any amount to:  Uncommon Desires Newsletter, P.O. Box 2377, 
New York, NY 10185.  Make checks payable to:  Ophelia Editions.
----------------------------------------------------------------
 
         Jill lay down over the pillows, letting her legs spread wide upon 
them, opening herself with a nervous glance at the dildos Max held in his 
hands.  Though her wrists were bound behind her, she arched her heinie and 
let the pillows lift her butt while the rest of her settled onto the much 
lower portions of the settee in front and back.  Her chin rested on the firm 
cushion of the seat itself.  There was no pillow for her head.  Her knees, 
opposite her upraised tushy, found themselves on the bare cushion too.  
She let her ankles slide off the sides of the settee so that Max could bind 
them to its wooden legs.  The result was a picture of utter, total 
submission, which was indeed best for her safety.  The dildo Max intended 
to put up her would rend her apart if she did not submit completely.   Max 
thrust his own cock at the air, watching her.  His balls seemed close to 
bursting.  I knew it must be quite a job for him to restrain himself from 
taking her then and there, right in front of her husband, who must be 
watching us by camera.  Max was a scoundrel.  I knew he must have been 
paid a kingÕs ransom by Mistress Lalique to restrain himself so 
chivalrously with female bottomflesh beckoning so closely.
         Max walked over to me and patted my behind.  One couch remained, 
standing empty and waiting next to Jill.  ÒDonÕt make me flog you onto it,Ó 
he urged me.  ÒI could not control myself once I truly got angry.  IÕve killed 
girls before, in my lust.  Lie down.  Obey.  It is best for you, and for me.  Do 
not be wilful or IÕll kill us both.Ó
         I stared at him.  I knew he meant it, standing there with his 
powerful, hairy chest rising and falling above my slim little shoulders.  
Once he got out of hand, there would be no stopping him.  He might control 
his lust, but he could not control both his lust and his anger.  I did not 
wish to harm myself by lying down, yet to remain standing would be even 
worse for me.  Max was the true master for a girl like me.  A gentler man 
might have relented, or gotten cold feet.  But Max had passions, deep and 
profound and uncontrollable, like a God who warns his flock not to disobey 
lest he control them.  As Max spoke to me, I knew he was being utterly 
candid about himself.  Were I to anger him, he would not be able to stop 
himself.  He would destroy me, like O.J. with Nicole.  There would be no 
satiating his anger-lust until I was reduced to lifelessness.
         With shivery, fearful steps I approached the sofa.  It was there to 
see me Fucked, pure and simple, by horrid things that meant I would have 
trouble getting up when it was over.  Max squeezed my asscheek, as if to 
reassure me.  Jill turned her head, seemed to urge me in complicity.  ÔDonÕt 
stay standing there,Õ her eyes seemed to beg.  ÔDonÕt let me be 
embarrassed, all by myself, in front of all the eyes that might be 
watching.  Lie down here beside me.  We can do this together.  We can be 
the same.Õ  I loved Jill as a sister.  IÕd never had a sister, being an only 
child.  IÕd always wanted one.  Okay, big sister.  I wonÕt let you down.
         I approached the sofa prepared for me.  I let my knees bang against 
it.  Max patted my bottom as one might pat the flank of a horse to prepare 
it for a big jump.  I glanced nervously again at Jill, saw her waiting, 
watching.  Like a child mounting a big bed, I lifted my knees and planted 
them on the sofa.  My bottom waggled with fright.  My thighs seemed to 
jiggle like jello.  I spread them wide as I felt my boobies dancing on my 
chest, my breath coming in quick, short gasps as I knew I was dooming 
myself to enormous suffering.  Biting hard on the cock that was jammed in 
my mouth, I lay down over the soft pillows.  My hips pressed hard into 
them, trying to smoosh them down to the level of the sofa itself.  It was 
no use.  There were too many of them, they were too well selected, firm in 
their softness, meant to keep my ass up no matter how much I might buck 
or thrash upon them.  I dropped my chin to the sofa cushion.  I felt my 
saliva pool in my mouth.  Behind, I felt MaxÕs strong hands spread my legs 
wide.  Air caressed my offered cunt.  It would not be satisfied today, I 
guessed.  It was my bottom that was on display.  It felt good being offered 
up so to the air, easing the pain of the whip kisses that had been 
emblazoned upon it.  Lovingly Max bound my ankles wide apart to the two 
opposite legs of the couch.  There was no going back now.  He unfastened 
my wrists only to stretch them out before me and rebuckle them wide 
apart to the legs of the couch beyond my head.  When he was done I tried to 
arch up, found my bottom lifting only, a little, the rest of me bound fast to 
the sofa.  A friend of mine told me once of being bound so at a ski lodge, 
during her college break.  She was older than me, had babysitted me once, 
but been kind to me, not mean or demanding.  Sharing her private life with 
me, she said her boyfriend and some of his friends had tied her down to a 
couch like this, the snow blowing outside, their skis all propped up 
against the wall so they could do some indoor slopes instead.  She had 
been first, fucked and re-fucked.  Then her girlfriend had been put down, 
and fucked in turn.  It had been hard work, she said, taking all those cocks, 
but sheÕd not regretted it.  Afterward theyÕd gone skiing again, no one the 
wiser, all of them happy.  TheyÕd all been students at a Southern Baptist 
college, where even dancing was frowned upon.  If only her teachers and 
her mom and dad knew how sheÕd really spent her Christmas vacation, 
sheÕd laughed, herself mostly being buggered the whole time.  Now it was 
my turn.  I watched with a mounting sense of trepidation as Max tied down 
Jill.  She mouthed her dildo, seeming to work her lips upon it, as a baby 
girl might suck a pacifier.  It kept her distracted, I supposed, as she felt 
her limbs affixed implacably to the sofa.  Both divans, IÕd noticed, were 
bolted to the floor.  Somebody knew us girls well.  We would not go easy.  
Nobody likes having something stuck up their bottom, do they?  But it was 
necessary, I told myself.  It had to be done if I were ever to see myself as 
a true woman.  Nuns might escape it, but all the rest sooner or later had to 
succumb.  Better to get it over and done with as soon as you could, I 
figured.  Widen me, then.  Let it be done.  I must love men, for they surely 
loved me and would not let me get away with disdaining them.  
         With my heart beating wildly, I watched as Max went to the wall and 
took down a leather belt.  Another hung waiting beside it.  At first I 
thought he was going to whip me again, and I drew in my bottomcheeks in 
apprehension.  Instead he bent low and threaded the belt beneath my 
tummy.  He buckled it at the small of my back.  The steel of the buckle was 
cold.  Why a belt, I wondered, if I was not to be given pants?  Max opened 
the drawer of the nightstand and drew out a small chain.  I saw it split 
into two at about the mid-point, and that where it remained a single chain 
it had a big ring placed in it, much larger than the other links of the chain, 
which were tiny.  I felt the chain touch my skin.  Max draped it into the 
furrow of my bottom.  The big ring, I realized, as he drew the ends of the 
chain beneath me, the split ends, settled right over my butthole.  It was 
small, hidden, withdrawn, but pulling on the chain, Max caused the big ring 
to part my asscheeks and show my hole more easily.  They were yanked 
apart already, from my posture, but now as the ring impressed itself 
between my two nether cheeks it forced them wider apart, and my 
recessed bottomhole was made more available.  I tensed, tried to keep its 
dimpled privacy all to myself.  Max hooked the split ends of the chain to 
the front of my belt, feeling beneath me for the snaps.  I found that the 
split chains ran down thru my nest and joined up only after bypassing my 
cunt.  Max could take me there if he wished, without the chains preventing 
him.  Ah, how odious it was!  The chains were apart where they might have 
saved me in front, yet in behind, where the chains became one, the big ring 
spread me to insure that something could be forced up my bottom!
         Jill watched, a lamb waiting to be slaughtered in turn.  Max got my 
three chain tails all snapped to my belt, two tails in front, one behind.  
The ring brooded more deeply between my slumbering cheeks.  The O of my 
bottomhole remained snug, private, but not for much longer.  Along the lips 
of my cunny the twin chains passed, infuriatingly bypassing my cunt, my 
clitty.  Yet at the same time they squeezed a little upon my cunt lips, from 
the outside, as if promising to make me happy, yet failing miserably.

                                     HELP!  IÕM BEING SPAMMED!

         Could somebody please do me a favor?  Lately my e-mail box has 
been getting spammed.  This has never happened to me before.  I guess as 
stupider and stupider people find out what Òa computerÓ is and what the 
ÒinternetÓ is, this was bound to happen.  But it does make it tough to 
subscribe people to my zine when IÕm getting spammed.  It also makes it 
difficult to UNsubscribe people from my zine.  
         I complained to AOL, but the spammer simply switches addresses 
and is back at it again.
         HereÕs the addresses and the Ômessages.Õ  If someone could help me 
get rid of this spammer I would greatly appreciate it.

From:  getout@stayout.com
Message:  ÒkEEP yOUR cRAP oUTTA hERE!  STOP YOU TRASHY POSTINGSÓ

From getout@stayout.com  Thu Mar 13 15:29:01 1997
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From:  s757@pacific.tensornet.com
Message:  ÒGet your fucking kiddieporn bullshit outta the newsgroups..Ó

From s757@pacific.tensornet.com  Sun Mar 16 14:39:41 1997
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-----------------------------------
From:  anon@anon.com
Message:  Òyou are a lowlife turd......Ó 

From anon@anon.com  Tue Mar 18 01:43:34 1997
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-Naughty Naked Dreamgirls (Library of Congress ISSN: 1070-1427) is
  copyright 1997 and a trademark of Andrew Roller.  Work by others
  copyright 1997 by the respective copyright holder.    
-END OF 219 EMISSION