Andrew Roller Presents
FUCK DECENCY
Issue No. 258
Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in
Cunt Castle
Chapter Three
Taking a perfume spray bottle, Bambi misted a scent of sweet
perfume onto my bare fanny. Then she put down the bottle and I thought I
saw her rub herself a little where her red satin triangle was pulled up
over her cunny. Was she aroused by the thought of whipping me? I tried to
speak, to ask to be let go, but my words came out totally garbled. Bambi
ignored me. She had a heavy pot of brine next to my bed and she leaned
back and dipped her birch branches into it. Then she drew them out,
dripping, and I watched as she brought them hovering over the bed.
Droplets fell on my clean sheets, staining them with salt.
ÒNow, letÕs begin,Ó Bambi said. She drew her hand back and swept
the birch rod up under my outthrust bottom.
ÒYeeoch!Ó I responded at once, arching up on my toes. My bottom
stuck out all the more as I leapt from the blow.
ÒOne down, 200 to go,Ó Bambi giggled to herself. I thought she
passed a fleet hand over her cunny again. With practised grace she re-
dipped the birch rod. She trailed it back across the bed, leaving droplets
again. IÕd look like IÕd wet the bed if she kept this up. But then, that
would be the least of my troubles, wouldnÕt it? ÒYouÕll have such lovely
marks to show off to everyone tomorrow,Ó Bambi told me. Then, with me
feeling ever-more like a bottom, nothing else, she whacked me right on my
heinie again.
ÒOoochch!Ó I yelped, my gag silencing me. Only the most primitive
sound escaped my lips, not the distinct sound IÕd intended. I was cultured
no more. I was just meat now, an outjutting ass waiting to be punished.
ÒAh, delicious!Ó Bambi told me. ÒI love how your bottom retracts
when youÕre waiting for it. It wonÕt save you, of course. But itÕs pretty.Ó
She dipped the birch again and gave me another blow, harder now, making
me really strain up on my toes and almost ram the gag down my throat.
ÒAHCHCHCH!Ó I said, nearly choking, or so I imagined, on the big red
ball that kept my lips pried apart. I squeezed my hind cheeks to try to
throw off some of the stinging. Bambi reached up and palmed my cheeks
with her gloved hands. Her touch was bitter, reminding me of the birchÕs
imprint. Such soft gloves, yet such a stinging touch. She fondled me for a
moment between my legs. I did not want to be pleasured there, but I dared
not close my legs. I held them wide in a bold vee as sheÕd instructed me.
She told me I was free to lift my legs as I needed to, but that if I kicked
back at her IÕd never forget it.
Shadows appeared outside our shrouded workplace. I felt as if I
were giving birth, with my parents outside, waiting, wondering, asking
passing nurses for news. I hand drew back the pink canopy of my bed. It
was Rose. She was dressed in a formal gown, sipping wine. She smiled at
me over the lip of her glass. Somehow within myself I knew it must be
French Chablis. That wine was very good with oyster stuffing, I learnt
once, as a little girl, studying a menu in a restaurant when IÕd tired of
coloring in the restaurantÕs logo in the childrenÕs activity book.
RoseÕs gown was held up by two spaghetti-thin straps over her frail,
fragile shoulders. Her skin was white. The dress molded her closely but
the portion covering her breasts consisted of but two uplifted circles of
fabric. A man tugging at her dress might to get her attention might pull to
hard and render her topless.
A hand settled on her shoulder. Louis! He came around from
somewhere beyond and behind her, took up position beside her. He gazed at
me with stern eyes. I wanted to beg forgiveness from him for whatever
IÕd done to deserve this but, I knew, IÕd done nothing but be myself, his
love, beautiful and loving him. This is what he did to girls he loved.
SKRAAAACK! The birch swept up again, catching the lowest portion
of my jutting, tender bottom cheeks.
ÒAaaaaaaah,Ó I cried into my red ball gag, feeling the heat of the
twitchy rods as they marked me with their nubbed stiffness. I let my
bottom gyrate freely. I felt no shame despite showing off my ass, its
crack.
ÒWe had to tie PollyÕs legs,Ó Rose told me. ÒBut you are older. I
want you to remain self-possessed, in control.Ó She reached out and
touched Bambi. ÒLet her settle down a little before giving each new
stroke,Ó Rose told her. ÒThere is no hurry. I want her to savor each one,
to dread it, to wait for it and then to scream aloud when she finally feels
it. Make her whipping sensuous. Yes, it must be difficult for her, but she
is not really in prison, and we are not really her jailers.Ó
ÒOh, alright,Ó Bambi said. I think she was growing hot where it
mattered most for, in my frenzied kicking and stamping on the bed, not
kicking back but outward, like a disabled person trying to walk, I saw
Bambi untie the triangle of satin over her cunt. She didnÕt untie the top
triangle, as I thought she would, though. She reached within the vee of her
legs and undid two impossibly tiny ties that held the base of her triangle
of satin against the lips of her cunt. Falling outward, being caught finally
by the topmost triangle, tied off above her mons, she looked like an Indian.
She had on her flapping Indian triangle, one might say, hovering over her
bush, flipping outward whenever she moved. I watched as LouisÕ eyes left
me to find themselves transfixed by her coyly half revealed pussy. Bambi,
sensing she was on display as much as me, randily parted my
bottomcheeks and flicked her tongue within.
She skipped my hole, but licked all up and down the inside of my
crack. Her hands held my injured fanny, spreading it, venting it, her
fingers pressing against my newly awarded marks from the birch. I did
not like being held thus, my hams lifted and held open by another girl.
Worst of all, her fingers made my ass hurt more. Any touch upon my
wounded cheeks seemed like an agony. And the night had just begun!
I closed my eyes. I tried to think of Polly. Anything to keep me from
thinking of my own bottom. Was she being whipped now? It would be like
whipping a little angel, I thought. A wingless angel, to be sure, but surely
her cherubic bottomcheeks would be so babylike that Branson would go
easy on her. Had she tried to escape him? Had she stuck out her tongue
and leapt from her bed and made a game of it? Had Branson, wheezing and
old, been forced to chase her about the locked bedroom until he finally
caught her and tied her wiggling body to the head of her bed?
ÒNYAH! NYAH! NYAH! NYAH!Ó I could hear her teasing in my mind, as
she realized she might just have the better of Branson and never be
caught. Had Rose entered then, and helped? Had Andre been called to
attend to her?
ÒOoooooOOOH!Ó I heard suddenly in the night air. At first I thought it
was an owl. Then I realized it was Polly. ÒOh, please!Ó I heard, then,
ÒYahoooOOOOH!Ó and I thought I heard the crack of a leather whip, coming
hard against her skin. She cried out again, and then again. Her screams
merged with the crashing of the surf on the rocky beach far below. I felt a
sea breeze enter through the window and cool my face. My hair fluttered
briefly. The canopy of my bed ruffled itself, inspired by the wind.
A cane was produced. Louis had been holding it, just behind himself,
not letting me see it until now. Gleefully Bambi accepted it. The length
of it must have been six feet. It was wickedly slender. Rose, fearful of
being hit by it, drew Louis back, holding his hand, squeezing it tight.
ÒNot- not too hard,Ó Rose told Bambi, who I swear looked like a child
with a new Christmas toy.
ÒDonÕt spare her,Ó Louis said. I trembled at the sound of his words.
His voice was rich, deep. He puffed on his pipe. Rose gasped a little as he
exhaled and a cloud of tobacco smoke enveloped the both of them.
Bambi got off to one side to better position herself for applying the
whip to my heinie. In my bare feet I stood waiting, my bottom red and
sore but still deliciously white amidst the score of lines emblazoned
across it. I begged them to stop but no one could understand me.
ÒMmmm, such a tempting target,Ó Bambi said, lustfully gazing at my
shaking, frightened fanny. Oh, how could she? I was a girl, just like her.
Had she no pity for me?
THWACK! In came the cane, blazing across my backside. I jumped up,
all but the tips of my toes leaving the bed. My teeth ground against the
ball that gorged within my mouth. I felt my neck yank on the end of the
pole that held me submissive. Christ had not suffered this much upon the
cross. I felt my bottomcheeks yammer together, shuddering within
themselves as the whip struck, then bound outward, showing my crack.
One moment my furrow was just a tight line compressed between my
cheeks. The next it was wide apart, on display, letting them see my hole.
Louis placed his fingers upon the straps of RoseÕs dress. She
watched from the corners of her eyes as he lifted her straps until, quite
suddenly but not unexpectedly, they broke. Her dress fell to her waist.
Her bosoms, bounteous in their maturity, came tumbling out to show their
fleshiness and their quivering tips. Rose looked down at herself a
moment, feeling LouisÕ eyes as he looked over her shoulder and admired
her cleavage. Then she slipped onto my bed in her broken gown and got
right behind me.
ÒHang in there, youÕre doing great!Ó Rose told me. She reached
beneath me and diddled my cunny. I gasped into my mouth-filling gag,
wanting more, yet feeling so utterly humiliated. New pairs of eyes
appeared. Men and women I did not know. How many people were in my
bedroom? How many watched? They gazed at me dispassionately, as one
might watch a showgirl, not knowing her name, not really caring. They
drank wine and chatted amongst themselves. My only consolation was
that, watching me, these nameless men would no doubt be inspired to do
the same to their loves, who watched beside them. The women drank their
wine in little gulps as they felt their lovesÕ hands pass down possessively
over their bottoms. They cared not for me, but they did care for
themselves and their own tushies.
Rose picked up a riding crop. It was well worn. It must have been in
the estate for years. I suspected it had begun its career on the flanks of
horses, but somebody had brought it inside one day, and it had not been
returned to the stable. Rose touched my heinie lightly with her fingertips
as if to mark where she would hit me. Then, drawing in her breath, her
tits rising as her lungs filled, she drew back her hand.
WHAP! The leather crop came against my skin with a forcefulness I
had not expected. I felt my own lungs exhale, shaking my bare tits like
fruit on a tree in a storm, as the crop damaged my heinie and left a weal.
My ass shook. Pain gripped it. A line radiated inward until my cheeks
seemed to bulge with pain. My first weal. I would bathe it later, passing
my hand back over it, touching it, wondering at its fiery heat. But now my
ass was outthrust, a charming treat for all to see, whitefleshed but with
bitter marks upon it.
ÒOh, does it hurt?Ó a young girl watching me asked aloud. She knew
nothing, I guessed, seeing such torture for the first time tonight. Her
bottom was most in danger then, most like to suffer as mine. Other
women exchanged glances, said nothing, drank their wine freely.
ÒYes, darling, itÕs so very harsh, isnÕt it?Ó Rose asked me. She
selected a paddle next. Lifting it, she whacked it upon my behind, a dull
thudding splat that came down over my ass so that the weal IÕd just
received was at the center of its impact.
ÒOOOOOH!Ó I hollared. I was crying now. There was no escaping it.
They were being so horrid to me, so very horrid. My tears flowed wetly
down my cheeks. The sea breeze from the window cooled my face but did
nothing for my bottom. Why, why, why must they treat me this way? Why
did Louis like this? And then, as I felt a pony lash striking me, as if
training me like some lioness at the circus, I felt my bosoms shake again,
slinging my coral tips about, and I felt my ass bound outward, and I knew.
I was a flesh goddess, enticing them, charming them with my wrigglings.
I had been reduced to tears and screams. I was no longer the sullen girl,
the smarty goodlooking female cherry bomb, or the impish teasing
trickster, like Polly, sassing the men and making them want me. I was
theirs. They had me completely within their power. Louis owned me now.
He might sperm me here and leave me here, stuck to this post, until I gave
birth to his child nine months later. I had lost all control. But Rose was
determined to take me yet one step further.
I felt a teacup passed beneath my cunt. Rose stroked my thighs. I
felt her breath hot upon my raw bottom.
ÒPee,Ó Rose told me. ÒPee like the young mare you are, right here,
right in front of all these people. DonÕt hold back, darling. Tonight is all
about letting go.Ó
I resisted. As I heard PollyÕs screams from somewhere in the
castle, I held myself in. My pee at least I would keep to myself, even if
my bottom were presented for all to see, with my tears rolling down my
cheeks.
ARE YOU BEING SERVED?
How to unsubscribe from a Ôlist serveÕ
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Speaking of which, poor Bill had to call in the Secret Service when
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and IÕm promptly unsubscribed from HUNDREDS of lists.
HereÕs the message:
DO YOU WANT TO READ THIS?
Funny, I donÕt want to read anything from you, either. Why donÕt you
manage your list serve in such a way that people like myself are not
subscribed to it in the first place?
PLEASE GET ME OFF THIS LIST! I NEVER ASKED TO BE ON IT!
In the meantime, hereÕs some information for you:
-------------------------- Fuck Decency! ------------------------
-Free Fuck Decency e-mail subscriptions: send (18 or up) age
statement to: roller666@aol.com
-To unsubscribe: Send $100.00 to The North American Man/Boy Love
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- ftp://members.aol.com/roller666 Diapergirls! (cunt2)
- ftp://members.aol.com/roller6666 NudieNursery! (nude1)
- ftp://members.aol.com/nnd666 PassionÕsPlaypen! (passion1)
- ftp://members.aol.com/nnd66 KiddieClitties! (kiddie1)
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-Recent back issues at Usenet newsgroup: alt.poop?
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statement to: Jim Corrigan, P.O. Box 3663, Phenix City, AL 36868
-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 257 EMISSION
Feel free to modify my message.
How should a list serve operate? HereÕs a good way of doing it, in
my opinion, written by the folks at durleste@plains.nodak.edu:
ÒOur lists have been plagued recently by bogus subscription requests. In
order to help prevent that, we are asking that those that request
subscriptions confirm their intent, as well as sending us (if you haven't
already) your full name. A brief note about your interest/role in relation
to the subject of this list would also be helpful. (This information will
only be used to prevent bogus subscriptions, and is not intended for
discriminating against any person, regardless of race, sex, color, creed or
religion who legitimately wishes to participate in this list.
Sorry for any inconvenience.
Please set your mail software to include this original text in your reply.Ó
Incidentally, to unsubscribe from FUCK DECENCY, you need only ever
send the word Òunsubscribe,Ó or any other message that conveys your
desire to get off the FUCK DECENCY mailing list.
AND IN THE END...
FEMINISM: IDEOLOGY OF HATE
ÒThe masculine, as far as Gloria Steinem, and NOW, Patricia
Ireland and so on are concerned, the masculine is a disease, it is a
neurosis, is the source of all of the evils of human history, is
automatically oppressive and destructive.Ó
- Author Camille Paglia
-------------------------- Fuck Decency! ------------------------
-Free Fuck Decency e-mail subscriptions: send (18 or up) age
statement to: roller666@aol.com
-To unsubscribe: Send $100.00 to The North American Man/Boy Love
Association, P.O. Box 174, Midtown Station, New York, NY 10018.
- ftp://members.aol.com/roller666 Diapergirls! (cunt2)
- ftp://members.aol.com/roller6666 NudieNursery! (nude1)
- ftp://members.aol.com/nnd666 PassionÕsPlaypen! (passion1)
- ftp://members.aol.com/nnd66 KiddieClitties! (kiddie1)
- ftp://members.aol.com/nnd6 Jesus! (temptation1c)
-Recent back issues at Usenet newsgroup: alt.poop?
-For all back issues, send e-mail to: file.request@backdrop.com
-Fuck Decency: http://members.aol.com/nnd6/fuckdecency.html
-Free minicomics: send a stamped, self-addressed envelope & age
statement to: Jim Corrigan, P.O. Box 3663, Phenix City, AL 36868
-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 258 EMISSION
- Paglia: West Point U.S. Military Academy, C-SPAN, April 1997.