Andrew Roller Presents
FUCK DECENCY
Issue No. 8
Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in
Love Child
Chapter Six
"Have you ever been whipped before?" Jenny asked, as the first
red marks became visible on the girl's beautiful ass.
"O-Once," Melissa said, her mouth forming a pretty O.
"When?" Jenny demanded.
"In the basement. My girlfriend and me. We did it to each other,"
Melissa said, tears coming to her eyes, more from the humiliation of
having to reveal her secret than from the marks of the whip.
"Tch! Tch!" Jenny tutted, secretly pleased, I could tell, for a
small smile posted itself on her lips. "And did your friend do it very
hard?"
"N-No," Melissa replied, gazing out at nothing in particular, her
head cocked back halfway, half-turned to answer Jenny's question.
"Well, this will hurt, so brace yourself," Jenny ordered. Melissa
bit her lip.
SWISH! SWISH! SWISH! Jenny played the birch over her then,
lightly, but enough to make the girl feel it. Slim red lines marred her
otherwise lily-white bottom. Melissa bore it well, keeping her hands
upon the floor, her legs wide. The only hint of the pain she was
suffering came from the way she lifted first one foot, then the other,
not taking it off the floor but raising it up until she was standing on
her toes. She continued this tip-toe dance in her open-toed sandals as
Jenny, breasts swaying, flayed her. The woman spoke to the girl in
erotic tones then, telling her of all the pleasures of adulthood: orgies,
naked dancing, dungeons and enemas. Melissa, brave little girl that she
was, nodded as Jenny made her agree to each of these, even though she
clearly was hearing about many of them for the first time in her life.
Quite a few of her nods were none too sure, her eyes wide, but there
was little she could do except agree, for the birch could always be
applied much harder.
"Is your bottom getting sore?" Jenny asked. A vigorous nod from
Melissa. "It is nothing compared to how sore your pussy will be when I
turn my men loose on you. Do you think you'll be able to walk
tomorrow?" Melissa seemed uncertain. She had not considered the
implications of arousing a roomful of men. "You'll lay in bed all day
tomorrow, your bottom hurting, your legs stiff, your pussy ravaged.
What will your mommie and daddy think? What will you tell them when
they ask you to come downstairs and feed the cat? 'Oh please, mumsie,
I attended a sex party last night, my first, could you do it for me?'
Hmm? Is that what you want, you naughty girl?" Jenny gave Melissa
three harder cuts and it was all the girl could do to keep her hands on
the floor. She arched her back, bucked her bottom, flexed her hind
cheeks in an attempt to throw off the scorching heat. Jenny whistled
at the view the girl was giving of herself. "Such a pretty ass. Thank
you for letting us all admire it." Jenny gave Melissa a particularly
juicy cut and the girl, unable to bear it, leapt up, grabbing her bottom
and hooting like a little owl. Everyone broke into laughter.
The girl settled down at last and turned her tear-stained face to
Jenny. Hands still protectively on her ass, she regarded the woman
with a mixture of anger and awe. Her little titties wiggled
enchantingly. They had yet to taste mustard.
Two women came up behind me. Their hands settled on the waist
of my jeans. "Let's see your fanny," they whispered. I wore no belt.
Their fingers unbuttoned me. My jeans slithered down my legs, the
women pushing them down until they were pooled around my ankles.
Their hands helpfully cupping my bottom, I stepped daintily out of my
pants. I was as defenseless as Melissa now. A woman called to Jenny.
She turned, regarded me, still holding the birch.
A hush came over the crowd as I was urged forward by my two
female suitors. One of them was the woman in the clam-digger pants.
She had long since lost them. Would she squirt mustard up my ass now?
Did her husband like to watch that also?
Melissa seemed relieved that she was no longer the center of
attention. She made to move away. Jenny grabbed her arm. "Stay here,
you little imp. I am not through with you yet." Jenny asked the guests
to fetch the girl's sarong and parasol. She told Melissa to pick up her
flower, which had fallen out during the whipping. Scampering over to
where I stood now, in her place, the girl picked up her poinsettia and
restored it neatly over her right ear.
At Jenny's request Melissa's sarong was tied once more around
her waist. She was given her parasol back. Then Jenny handed her the
slim birch, telling me to bend over and grab my ankles.
"Whip her, you little hussy," Jenny hissed. Melissa seemed
delighted at the prospect of having the whip hand. She gave my ass a
calculating look and then laid in a biting cut right across both my
cheeks.
"OW!" I cried.
"Be quiet!" Jenny ordered me. Then, to Melissa: "Give it to her
hard. She is a big girl and can take it." Melissa nodded and gave me
another stinger. The birch would not last long if this kept up, I knew.
To my dismay, Jenny asked Tim for his belt. The birch broke after two
more blows and Jenny handed Melissa the supple leather belt Tim had
been wearing. It was made of fine-tooled Argentine leather. I eyed it
with a baleful stare, gazing back at it between my regulation-width
legs, my pose the same as Melissa's, save that my hands were on my
ankles. "Give it to her good, you junior minx, or you will get two for
every one that comes off too lightly," Jenny said. For the first time in
my life I felt like I was being complicitous in my own whipping, for I
was not tied down in any way. The woman formerly of the clam-digger
pants knelt beside me. She twirled a finger in my hair and whispered
words of encouragement in my ear.
SLAP! The belt hit, hard. I lurched forward, nearly toppling over.
SWOOP! SPLAT! Two more, each leaving a burning swath in its wake.
Melissa, the little bitch, strutted behind me, eyeing my ass cooly,
twirling her parasol. I gritted my teeth. This was not going to be easy.
I wanted to flee. The crowd moved in, gathered around me. Tim stood
over me. He undid his pants and took out his cock and began stroking it.
Melissa gave me a good beating then, as merciless as any
mistress I'd ever had. Occasionally she rubbed her own bottom as a
pang of pain there reminded her of her own recent suffering. I bore her
swats as best I could, trying valiantly not to cry out. My country, my
adopted country, needed me. I would steal all England's secrets for
this.
At last Jenny ordered Melissa to stop. Reluctantly the girl let the
belt fall from her hand. "Stand up!" Jenny told me. I unfolded myself,
rising slowly. My hands clapped themselves to my bottom, tenderly I
rubbed it. You'd have thought I'd left my ass out in the sun all day, it
hurt so much. Wincing, I looked at Jenny. She was smiling, her lips
glossy, her makeup perfect, her hair a lovely cascade of chestnut over
her white shoulders. Her bosoms seemed to float upon her chest, big
and creamy, with cherry nipples. She put her hands to her jeans,
undoing the buttons.
"I want to be next," Jenny said matter-of-factly to me. "But I
want it very hard, so you'll have to tie me." Shocked, I watched as she
stepped out of her jeans. She looked at Melissa. "Take off that silly
sarong, girl! I want you stark naked when you whip me. Get rid of those
necklaces you're wearing too, and that bracelet." Melissa quickly
complied, fearing the harsh, lusty tone in Jenny's voice. "Yes, you may
keep the flower, and your pretty heels," Jenny told her. "As for that
parasol, I ought to jam it up your ass, but you can keep that too."
Melissa looked appropriately shocked at the thought of having her
umbrella stuck up her. She continued to clutch it as a kind of talisman
to ward off evil as the crowd closed around Jenny. She was gagged. A
black cloth was set between her pretty white teeth, leaving her lips
bare. She would not be able to change her mind now.
A mattress was laid out, and Jenny was made to kneel on it. Her
knees were fixed wide apart by a spreader bar that was placed between
them. Her hands were lifted above her and a kind of boom was swung
out from the wall. It was locked into place, sticking out horizontally
from the wall, like some giant cock. Jenny's arms were lifted and
bound to the bar. Melissa and I huddled together, unsure of ourselves. I
felt anger at her and yet we were in this together now, both victims,
and myself about to join her in mistress-hood. I was given a belt of my
own and we were told there would be many instruments for us to try
before we were finished.
"You may begin," a man said to us, his voice cold. Melissa and I
each drew back our belts. There was a mirror in front of Jenny and we
could see her face. She seemed complacent. We let go of the ends of
our belts and they went flying into her ass.
CRACK! CRACK! A double salute. Jenny thrust her hips forward,
smiling. Her big breasts juddered madly. She was the center of
attention now, and she loved it. All the men had their cocks out,
watching her.
The flogging lasted for several hours. Melissa and I were made to
use canes, birches, paddles, a quirt, a martinet, and other things too
numerous or wicked to remember. All of our fury was directed at her
bottom, except when we messed up and hit her back or thighs instead.
We sweated under the exertion. Her hiney became black-and-blue. At
last we were ordered to stop. Panting, we threw down our weapons. My
breasts hurt from jiggling around so much. Melissa rubbed her arm.
She had long since given up holding aloft her parasol, having to switch
hands now and then just to relieve her whip-hand.
Before us Jenny hung by her wrists, her body limp, her head
drooping down so that her chin rested on her chest, lifelessly. She'd
long since given up smiling, or even crying. She shuddered once, gave up
a sob without lifting her head, was silent. Around us the room was a
ruckus of intertwined bodies. Our partying friends had gotten down to
business some time ago, leaving us to Jenny, watching us only to make
sure we kept at her. Melissa and I turned to the man who had told us to
stop. He was busily fucking two females, oblivious to our own need. I
looked at the girl who had been my partner in dominance. She was
especially pretty, I thought, with her young teats sticking out, her
nipples painfully erect, her legs parted. She gazed back at me.
"I'm sorry about your bottom," Melissa said apologetically. She
whisked her hands back and forth along the sides of her creamy flanks.
She was terribly excited by the orgy all around her. I palmed my
cheeks. The burning had been replaced by a warm glow which suffused
them, made them feel almost wonderful. I thrust out my hips, my legs
apart, displaying my pussy.
"It's o.k. now," I said. "See?" I gave each of my ass cheeks a
playful slap. It felt good, too good. I knew I'd want another spanking
there soon. Melissa's eyes fell to my breasts. She gazed at my rigid
nipples.
"You have nice breasts," she said.
"Yours are nice too."
"Mine aren't big enough."
"They'll grow," I reassured her.
"I want to be a slave!" she said suddenly, and gripped her bottom
cheeks with her palms, jutting her hips toward me. There was a
desperate glint in her eyes of passion long repressed. "I read about love
slaves, in a book, and I want to be one."
I was surprised by such a kinky statement, coming from the
mouth a mere babe, a child. Did this girl really know what she was
asking?
"You must be careful," I replied. "There are men who hurt girls
they keep as slaves."
"I don't care. I just want to be one," she said resolutely.
A man approached us. He had overheard us. It could have been
anyone, but he was particularly handsome, about 40, with a half-
stiffened cock worn out from fucking, yet still beautiful, I thought.
How many girls had he poked his organ into? And here was Melissa, yet
to taste cock for the first time. The man put an arm around her bare
waist, then mine. "And what about you?" He asked me. "Do you want to
be a slave also?" My bottom quivered, tightened. It felt so hot and
delicious! Together we stared up at him, our eyes dove's eyes, hoping
not to be let free but to be captured.
"Yes," I said. "I want to be...tested." And I did. Worked...like a
mare. My teats sucked, milked. Like a cow. My pussy and backside
plowed.
"Then you must both come with me," the man replied. He told us
his name was Robert, but we were only ever to call him "Sir," or
"Master." He gathered us more closely to him, turning us, so that he
could lead us where he might. In her excitement Melissa wedged a hand
between her legs.
"Uh, uh. No," Master told her. "You will come only when I say so.
Your body is mine now. All mine." Melissa drew her hand away, looked
at him dumbly, needfully, pressing her thighs together, squirming.
Bare-hipped we walked with him, his arms holding us there, casually.
He stroked our bellies with his fingers. He told us we would be fucked
until they swelled. We didn't care. We would be proud to bear his
children if he wanted us to, so crazy with desire were we.
We stopped at a door. He insisted we remove everything;
earrings, heels, even Melissa's poinsettia. We obeyed, handing him our
things, which he laid on top of a nearby chest-of-drawers. Then he
opened the door and let us inside. We stepped into utter darkness. He
flicked on a light.
There was nothing in the room save a broad, low wooden platform
with a mattress on it and furs piled atop it. Hanging down from the
ceiling, at the end of a stiff pole, was a single ring of steel. If a girl
stood on the makeshift-bed and lifted her arms above her head she just
might reach it. Piled in one corner of the room were chains, made from
small, rectangular links. Beside them was an assortment of locks. Our
master went and fetched two of each. He returned to us and made
Melissa hold out her hands. He bound them together with a chain and
locked them.
"Both of you, get up on the bed, remain standing," Master ordered.
We both clambered up, found it to be stiffer to stand on than a normal
bed, though it still made us wobble as we tried to walk on it. Master
told Melissa to reach up and grasp the ring. She obeyed, standing on
tip-toe, just barely grasping it. He told me to stand close to her and
put my hands on her waist. "Closer, closer," he urged, until my nipples
poked against hers. Because she was on tip-toe our tits touched, even
though she was shorter than me. Master found a piece of wood and
wedged it underneath Melissa's heels to keep her standing on her toes.
Then he took his other chain and wrapped it once around our bare
waists, locking it behind Melissa's back. Our hot breath mingled.
Spontaneously Melissa stuck out her tongue, then opened her mouth. I
offered my own tongue to her and we duelled, our tongues licking at
each other in the open air. They touched, sensuously. Our bare bottoms,
almost unmarked now, the stripes faded from our previous punishment,
loomed perversely large, mine especially. It was the giving way of the
bed beneath our feet which made our bottoms seem bigger. We kissed.
Master surveyed our nicely parted legs, our asses, tightening,
relaxing, as we sucked on each other's tongues. I stroked Melissa's
svelte torso, feeling her ribs rippling beneath my fingers, smelling the
vaseline which still coated her body. When our mouths finally parted
we gazed at each other and made our sprouting nipples duel, brushing
them together and using them as little spears to try to puncture each
other's breasts.
"You two must be the loveliest creatures on earth," Master told
us, getting up onto the bed with us. He palmed our bottoms and then
gave each of us a good hard smack. We squealed, our nether cheeks
tingling anew. We longed for whatever punishments he wished to give
us, and he knew it. We kissed more sensuously than ever, our bodies
pressing closer, writhing. We rubbed our prickly bushes together.
Master, admiring us, took another chain and used it to secure
Melissa's wrists to the overhanging ring, which she was having trouble
holding on to. Then he fetched more goodies from the items piled by the
chains and locks. Items I'd tried my best not to look at as we first
entered. Dildos, condoms, oils, salves. Tubing that looked like it could
be used to give an enema. From the pile Master took a double-pronged
dildo, and a bottle of vaseline. We gasped when we saw his plan.
"I am spent," he said. "But I will not have a virgin in my presence
any longer." He eyes Melissa. She stared back meekly, looking at him,
at the dildo. Was I to take her cherry? Me? A girl popping a girl?
Master stepped back up onto the bed. He had us jut back our
bottoms, forcing our pussies apart momentarily. He put the double-
dildo between us, and told me to help fit it into Melissa's pussy, as
well as my own. I got my end in alright, but Melissa was a tight fit.
Delicately I parted her cunt lips, like opening a flower. I eased the
bulbous nose within her as, looking down, she shivered apprehensively.
I felt the head of the fake penis butt up against her hymen. I did not
force it. Not yet. I pushed my end of the prick farther up inside me,
bowing my knees to try to get the large organ up my tight passage as
far as possible. When I was confident it could go no further I settled
my hands back on Melissa's hips and looked in her eyes.
"Ready?" I asked her, shifting my hips slightly to get a better
purchase on the bed.
HOW WOMEN SLIT THEIR OWN THROATS
by that paragon of Wisdom, holy shit
Assume, for a moment, that you are a woman. (A horrible thought, I
know, because youÕd have to bathe and all that shit.) What is your worst
nightmare? It is that, while you are out being a Powerful Woman, your
husband is at home fucking the girl next door.
According to current feminist theology, a man who fucks a girl is
totally evil. (In fact, he must be imprisoned for life.) But the girl who
fucks the man is pure as the driven snow.
Now, ladies, you KNOW that you are not as pure as the driven snow.
You know that when you were a girl you were a conniving, manipulative
little bitch. We only have to open to chapter one of the Holy Bible to see
that it is Eve who tempts Adam. The woman is the temptress, the man is
just some dumb klutz.
What if I knew I could rob your house, and on being caught, would be
proclaimed by our society to be totally innocent? IÕd be in your house the
next day, taking whatever I pleased. Especially if I knew you would be
arrested and put in prison for life for LETTING me rob your house.
Now let us picture your husband, sitting happily at home, watching
football. Here comes ÒMiss Hotpants,Ó the girl next door. She wants to
fuck your husband. She knows that when the sex is over she will be
proclaimed to be as pure as the driven snow, an Òinnocent victim.Ó
HereÕs the question: Is Miss Hotpants MORE or LESS likely to fuck
your husband IF SHE KNOWS SHE WILL BE DECLARED TOTALLY INNOCENT?
She is more likely to fuck him. (Figured IÕd answer that for you, just in
case you got it wrong.)
If your goal is to PREVENT Miss Hotpants from doing it with your
husband, donÕt you think itÕs pretty stupid to tell her sheÕs pure as the
driven snow? ItÕs like me, knowing I can rob your house and be declared
pure as the driven snow. IÕm more likely to rob you, and sheÕs more likely
to fuck your husband.
Once again we see that feminism is not only stupid, it is actually
counterproductive to womenÕs own interests.
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Andrew Roller. Chat: alt.sex.stories.d END OF 8 EMISSION