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Define Ôcultural pollutionÕ
Andrew Roller Presents
FUCK DECENCY
Sponsored by: Crab the dog
Issue No. 336
Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in
Dungeon of Desire
Chapter Two
ÒNow that weÕve cleaned up your face, letÕs clean out your cunny,Ó
Miriam smiled at me. She told me to get up on the table. By now Sharon
had served most of the ladies the sperm-laden punch, and it seemed a new
use was to be made of the bowl.
Jennifer appeared. A man and a woman held her by her hands. Were
they her master and mistress? I couldnÕt tell. They told her to climb up
onto the table. She complied. There was a slightly gaunt look to her face
and I guessed she was still as needy as sheÕd been in the bedroom; brought
to the splitting edge of orgasmic desire, then left unfulfilled. She seemed
to be willing to do whatever was asked of her, if only its result would be
pleasure. Instead, so far at least, sheÕd been denied, forced to do things
but not rewarded. She looked at me. Both of us knelt on the table, feeling
quite silly, on our hands and knees with our bottoms up, showing our
pumpkin asses to the crowd.
ÒBoth of you, sit with your backs against each other,Ó Miriam
commanded. We complied. We were new and they loved our newness. We
were the Chosen Two, I guessed, and theyÕd remember us most when the
night was over. We were young and we squirmed, letting our legs open,
studying our thighs with our eyes, feeling the silken tablecloth beneath
our bottoms.
I was facing the punchbowl. Miriam took the ladle from it. It
brimmed with punch, a few ice cubes floating in it. I watched as she
placed a napkin under me, making me lift my seat so she could slide it
under, all the while holding the ladle aloft. When the tablecloth had been
protected from spills, Miriam poured the ladleful of punch right onto my
pussy.
I gasped. The punch splashed onto my pubic curls and wet the napkin
beneath me. Miriam next took a plastic syringe, passed to her by Sharon,
and filled it in the punch. She inserted it between my cunt lips. She
smiled wickedly at me. I could only stare back at her. Behind me,
Jennifer, still hungry for pleasure, moaned and opened herself to the
prying eyes of the crowd. She wanted, but they gave her nothing. She was
not permitted to touch herself. She arched her back against mine and let
out a little cry of desire.
I, meanwhile, had something up me and Miriam intended to use it to
douche me. She squeezed the big rubber ball at the end of her syringe. It
squirted. I felt a jet of icy punch shoot up inside me and I cried out.
Jennifer, hearing me, shivered against my back, wanting, needing, yet
allowed to have nothing.
Slowly Miriam douched me. She took her time. As napkins were
wettened she put new ones beneath me. I kept having to lift up my tail to
accommodate her. It felt so strange to sit before all these strangers
completely nude, my legs open, being douched.
ÒYouÕll taste delicious,Ó Miriam assured me. I nodded. I would taste
like punch. Jennifer longed to taste like I did. Or perhaps even to taste
me. I felt her hands sleek back past herself and rest on my hips.
ÒSuch delightful nipples you have! Would you like me to clamp
them?Ó a woman asked Jennifer. She made no reply. I heard her keen out a
little cry a moment later, her back tensing against mine, and guessed
sheÕd been clipped. ÒTheyÕre florescent. TheyÕll glow when you dance,Ó I
heard a womanÕs voice murmur.
ÒPaint her pussy,Ó a manÕs voice said.
ÒAlright dear,Ó I heard.
Finishing up my douche, Miriam took up the task of repairing my
makeup. I would have preferred being fresh-faced, cleansed by the punch,
but she insisted I must look my finest. She put new lipstick on my lips.
She brushed out my lashes and pencilled my brows. Meanwhile, behind me,
I heard a little jar opened. Jennifer gripped my bare hips with her hands
and I guessed that the painting of her pussy had begun.
Glancing around me, I saw the guests take up the task of preparing
for the dance. It was a heady sight. Using bristle brushes intended for
female makeup, all the partiers began painting each otherÕs loins. The
paints were bright yellow or pink or blue, all pastel colors. Miriam
whispered to me that weÕd dance under black light.
Jennifer mewled out breathy little gasps as the florescent paints
were applied to her cunny. I guessed those little strokes of the bristle
brush must be driving her crazy. Looking around me, I watched as ladies
subjected their men to the paints. Quivering penises had to somehow hold
back their loads as they were carefully and quietly stroked by the brushes.
ÒYes, dear, you too,Ó Miriam said to me. She took a brush and a small
glass jar of paint from Sharon and began with my nipples.
ÒOh, donÕt!Ó I gasped. The brush was infuriating. Its soft bristles
teased my bare nipples and made them stand up exceedingly straight.
ÒWould you prefer I used clamps?Ó Miriam asked me.
ÒOh, Nooo!Ó I replied. She put the paint to my nipple tips and swirled
it all around my areolas. I was forced to bite my lip and endure. She
moved to my cunny next, painting me slowly and with inquiring strokes.
Each little jab of the brush proved more intrusive. Carefully she limned
my labial lips; they would glow brightly in the dark. Each tiny pubic curl
was coated with florescent paint. My face would be hidden in the darkness
of the dance, but my nipples and my cunny would flash and shine obscenely.
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When I was prepared, Master appeared. He held a riding crop with a
broad, looped tip. He put it to my cheek and forced me to turn my face to
him. Katy watched, bright eyed, and beside her were two other men.
Master passed the looped tip of the crop across my face and put it against
my lips.
ÒKiss it,Ó he said. ÒYouÕll be feeling it on your ass soon.Ó I began to
kiss it, fearfully, and then suddenly I opened my lips and mouthed it. I let
it lay upon my tongue and I bit it gently.
ÒShe is a fine young slave,Ó one of the men murmured admiringly. I
pleased them. I was glad I pleased them. Especially Master.
Katy took my hand and helped me down off the table. I stood before
my master, looked at him, at Katy, at the others. I touched my hands to my
white bottom and guessed it would be a little uncomfortable soon. Is this
what I had come for? I didnÕt know. I didnÕt know anything anymore.
Jennifer appeared beside me. Her breasts were weighed down by
clamps. They bit into her perfect nipples, their greedy little mouths
ridged slightly to make her even more aware of their presence. I touched a
finger to one of the weighted clips.
ÒDonÕt,Ó Jennifer gasped.
ÒYouÕre going to have to dance with those on,Ó I observed in a soft,
innocent voice.
ÒI know,Ó she replied.
The lights were dimmed. All around me females exchanged final
glances at each otherÕs bottoms. I guessed the whips would fly when the
dance began. We cherished our last moments of comfort. I felt my cheeks
huddling. My palms hugged my hiney. Katy pulled my hands off my ass.
ÒDonÕt,Ó she sighed. ÒYou must try to enjoy yourself. Just dance.
Let the men do as they please.Ó
I heard a pulse-pounding rhythm begin. Kate looked at me, her face
shrouded now, the darkness engulfing her, and she began to dance. Her
movements encouraged me. I began to move to the rhythm also.
ÒKeep the whips low,Ó I heard Miriam call out. ÒNo hitting above the
belt!Ó
A shriek came to my ears. Some poor girl had gotten her hiney
whacked. I slowed my dancing but Kate touched my wrist and indicated I
must keep up with her. Together, facing each other, we began to dance
like Bacchae.
A black light illuminated us. I watched as KateÕs nipples, painted
exquisitely as my own, bounced in the eerie light. Beneath her belly her
pubic curls shone. My own bosoms, colored with bright yellow neon,
jounced and jiggled on my chest as I moved ever more quickly and freely. I
let my arms fly out and I pushed my chest forward so that it offered my
breasts to any who watched. I let my ass wriggle behind me and tried to
forget that my Master held a stiff crop. Beside me, dancing a little more
slowly, Jennifer moved. She looked down at her breasts and watched as
they swung with their weighted tips, the clamps eagerly hugging her,
making her feel their teeth even as she was forced to respond to the
music.
It was a cool song. Another followed, the very latest stuff, making
me happy despite my worst fears. All around me, as the music heightened,
I heard swift cracks and blurted screams. We were victims, all of us, and
there was no hope for us. Katy let out a little howl as she received her
first blow. I danced more quickly. I knew my bottom had tempted many
men and they wouldnÕt let me escape much longer.
ÒYeeeowch!Ó Jennifer yelped as somebody, moving in the darkness,
his penis bright and his balls illuminated, struck her with his crop.
And then me! A searing line of heat smacked quickly and decisively
against my tushy, making me offer a scream of my own.
The base of the music deepened. Another slash, from somebody,
stuck KateÕs behind. She howled and I sensed tears came to her eyes. I
was hit again. My scream joined hers. Jennifer whined as she was
smacked yet again. Her big bosoms juddered. She was desperate for love
but all they would give her was punishment.
VIDEO REVIEW
by holy joe
PlayboyÕs Sex on the Beach, $19.95. VHS Tape, Color, 57 minutes. PBV
0826. Playboy: 1-800-423-9494. Playboy:
www1.playboy.com/catalog/
Review: Once again I am trying to review a video which I donÕt
really want to watch a second time. (I did buy this video, by the way. I
didnÕt just rent it and then have to take it back.)
I was disappointed with this video. I was sitting in my dumpster,
trying to jack off to it. It was going along and then, well, it ended. I
found myself sitting there, saying, ÒWhat?! ItÕs over?!Ó So I had to
spend the rest of the day looking out my window at the playground
across the street. Unfortunately, none of the girls on the playground
were naked.
What do I remember from this video, since I donÕt want to have to
go to the trouble of watching it again?
Well, first off, there is some new camera work in this video.
Playboy has learned how to really get up close to a girl and take long,
loving shots of her. I have never seen camera work like this in a
Playboy video, though I did see camera work like it in a video starring
Chasey Lain. (ÒThis is the butthole, men! Look!Ó)
In PlayboyÕs case, the camera doesnÕt focus in on the butthole, but
rather on the girlÕs nipples. There are some tremendous nipple shots in
this video. If I wasnÕt a member of AARP I might have been able to get
off on them. (Which, by the way, stands for the ÔAmerican Association
of Retarded People.Õ I donÕt want you thinking IÕm an old fart.)
So, anyway, picture this attractive young female, wet, standing in
the ocean, half in and half out of her bikini, and a camera that takes
long, loving shots up between her legs, along her tummy, and finally up
to her tits, which are naked and hard. ThatÕs the sort of camera work
you see. ItÕs a great improvement over the old Playboy videos. In the
old Playboy videos, theyÕd set the camera half a mile back from the girl
and tell her, ÒWeÕre going to play a dumb song. Dance around to it.Ó And
sheÕd do some stupid, made-up dance, that wasnÕt sexy.
The other thing I remember from this video, thatÕs worth
mentioning, is a segment of a girl getting a massage. IÕll start with
the interesting part: A blonde walks up to a young female masseuse and
together they go into a small beach shack. The best shot in the whole
video occurs next. You see them begin to undress, inside the shack. The
blonde casts a sideways glance at the bed where she will be massaged.
It is a white bed. It is covered only by a single sheet, over the
mattress. There is no second sheet, or any blanket. That shot, of the
girl about to strip, glancing over at the bed, is the sexiest shot in the
whole video.
In a Steve Martin film he once stopped by a beach shack that gave
enemas. How wonderful it would have been for the blonde to get on the
bed and get an enema! She wouldnÕt have to get a real enema. The
whole thing could be faked, with clever camera work. It would still be
a Playboy video, with Playboy-quality girls, and Playboy-quality film,
but with the sexiness of one girl giving the other an enema. Instead, of
course, we donÕt get that. We get a boring massage scene. IÕve seen any
number of Playboy massage videos and this scene is nothing special.
Too bad.
ThatÕs about all I remember from this video. The main problem
with it is that itÕs segmented into various segments. You sit there
going, ÒHo hum, hereÕs the next segment.Ó At least with PlayboyÕs
Erotic Underground video there was a sense of uncertainty. There is no
uncertainty at all in this video.
I loved the box that this video came in. However, I donÕt
remember seeing the girls on the box in the video inside the box. Also,
the scene on the front of the box does not occur anywhere inside.
If youÕre 13 (or younger) and have never seen a Playboy video, you
may like this one. Otherwise, it is sadly like many, many other Playboy
videos that have come down the pike. The only thing I could recommend
it for is to study the camera work. That, at least, is worth studying,
and incorporating into your own video work, if you do videos of your
own.
Anon
by Nichole Grabe
The vines bend like clever minds,
Against the break of summertime and inside
The winds beat unholy hymns as the cars thunder by,
Reading a book once considered cruel, you know now
It was really innocent. You type at the keyboard naked.
Hopeless with your thoughts this cold sunny day with the ice-chill
Of the devil wind as you call up your fear again.
Sticky with blue, they crawl about you.
And in your head the song that might not let you dream again.
You are maskless and without face,
You are timeless under the pounding of saws and axes on the wall,
Of construction time which takes forever,
You breathe of the past,
The colors of the waiting time,
All fuzzed.
It is hard to form another idea unless they come.
They are fire red eyed hope to find you with their sharp hands,
Many hands and many hearts bleeding,
The shadow is a friend for there they do not see you.
You burn your books because you are cold.
And with this your heart goes dead.
It spins and the world closes.
So much to drown a person, so much to drown.
You take the bag of letters and wrap them up in a bag,
And cast them into the smiling seas with their grabbing charms,
You take your childhood out for a swim,
In your suit of Spanish blue and your dead heart of irony,
You follow it to the bottom of the dankest reef and twirl your hair
Into a piece of heavy pink coral so nice,
So pink and so delicate like a sweet child, a perfect baby,
An infant who kills you.
AND IN THE END...
A pictureÕs worth a thousand words. This issue contains 2,995
words.
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