Andrew Roller Presents
FUCK DECENCY
Issue No. 94
Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in
Bottoms in Bondage
Chapter One
ÒIt tastes awful!Ó Linda protested, trying to lick all the sperm off
her upper lip. Mistress gave her bottom a playful slap and told her to get a
cock ring.
With glowing eyes, each girl fitted a man with a cock-ring. Master
seemed to take newfound pleasure in persnickety Linda. Her gloved hands
fitted him carefully. She held him ever so daintily, trying not to get her
lace mittens sticky. When the ring was pushed home she knelt and licked
him again, not liking it, she told him, but feeling she must do him at least
as well as the other girls. Soon, lured by her tongue, master was hard
again. He seemed to want to rod Linda and spurt in her again.
ÒNo, sir, we musnÕt,Ó Linda said, glancing sideways at the other
girls. They, like Linda, had given their assigned men a welcoming lick,
bringing them back from the dead, so to speak, making them rise once
more to play all night; cockrings now safely in place.
ÒGirls, now that we have welcomed the men we must welcome each
other,Ó mistress told her young charges. The men retreated to chairs,
watched with expectant eyes. Mistress selected Linda.
ÒWhat must be done?Ó Linda asked, wide-eyed.
ÒWe must kiss,Ó mistress replied.
ÒOh, I donÕt like kissing girls!Ó Linda whined. Mistress simply turned
her around. Then she knelt. She placed her hands on the insides of LindaÕs
thighs. ÒOh! I can feel your breath on my bottom!Ó Linda exclaimed.
Gently mistress forced Linda into a wider stance. She looked at the rest
of us. ÒItÕs called Ôbottom smooching,ÕÓ Mistress told us. What the
eskimos at the South Pole do.Ó With that she parted LindaÕs hinds and
thrust her mouth right into the girlÕs crack! ÒOh! You are kissing my
asshole!Ó Linda shouted. She teetered in her booties, almost falling
backward over mistress as the woman speared her anus with her tongue.
ÒMaÕam! Please!Ó Linda cried. The girl, bent backward, catching herself in
a backwards fall by landing her hands on mistressÕs shoulders, bleated
like a lost lamb. Indeed, we were all lost, it occurred to me, cocks and
now asses exposed to the most intimate of oral caresses.
There was a loud smooching sound, mistress making it for effect,
and then she withdrew her mouth and tongue from LindaÕs hiney. ÒThis is
the proper way to greet friends at an orgy,Ó Sandra told us, addressing all
us girls, as she lifted her face from between the bunching, youthful cheeks
of LindaÕs bottom. SandraÕs lipstick was smeared a little, and I thought I
caught a trace of brown on her tongue. This was worse than being a
brownnose!
Sandra rose, took Linda by her diminutive shoulders and spun her
about. ÒNow, you greet me,Ó Sandra told her. (I was beginning to think of
her as Sandra now, instead of mistress. With all those strange, hulking
men present she seemed more one of us now. They just gazed, detached,
resting in the somnolence of their stuffed easy chairs. One of the men had
poured drinks for his Òbrothers in ringsÓ and they quaffed them liberally,
perhaps to ease the pain they were feeling from those awful cock rings!
Linda was on the verge of blubbering. ÒOH! I shanÕt greet you, like
that! Never!Ó she cried.
ÒYou must learn it, dear,Ó Sandra said with surprising understanding,
as if she herself had wrestled with a similar lesson not too many months
back. ÒYou are very beautiful and your husband will no doubt want to show
you off at many, many orgies. You must know proper behavior when you
arrive, lest they think you some unskilled minor and refuse you and your
husband admittance. That is why we have this little school here, donchÕa
know?Ó Linda glanced anxiously at her husband, her eyes growing wider as
they crossed over the forest of toadstool cocks all standing up, long-
stemmed and bloated. His eyes were stern. He was suffering his own
agonies at this very moment, on his most important part. He would brook
no mercy for her silly asshole!
ÒBoo Hoo!Ó Linda sobbed. She slid down SandraÕs body. Her wet tears
spilled from her eyes and wet SandraÕs tummy as she dropped to the floor.
Hitting the floor with her knees, softly, LindaÕs eyes jolted open. Her
mouth was right at the bush of another woman. Sandra grabbed her man of
red hair.
ÒOh, so you wish to give me the personal greeting?Ó Sandra laughed.
The men chuckled.
ÒOh, nooo! Your bottom is much better --Ó Linda yelped. But it was
too late. Bending her legs into a bow, a wishbone of desire, Sandra forced
LindaÕs pretty young face directly up into her twat. ÒDonÕt stop Ôtil I taste
like honey,Ó Sandra said. Then she looked over at the men. ÒShe will need
encouragement,Ó Sandra told them.
My own master looked at a man beside him. ÒIs she your wife?Ó he
asked.
ÒYes,Ó the man replied.
ÒMay I do the honors?Ó my master asked.
ÒFor me to do it would be, as Sandra said, Ôa waste of
opportunities,ÕÓ LindaÕs husband replied.
My master rose and undid his belt. He pulled it out of his belt loops
with a quick, menacing slither. He doubled it as he advanced across the
room, his big cock waggling and tossing bits of pre-cum here and there as
he came toward us. I could say nothing. I was gagged.
Master bent and thrust a hand straight into LindaÕs wiggling hiney.
Roughly he parted her asscheeks with his thumb and sought her newly-
kissed hole. Its wetness eased the bold insertion of his thumb into it.
LindaÕs back bolted upright. Her face popped from SandraÕs dell
before being ruthlessly shoved back into her waiting twat. With his
fingers master dove within LindaÕs sweetly wet pussy. It was excited
despite her misgivings. Almost as roughly as master had captured her,
Linda now wriggled her bottom in an effort to free it. But Master was
strong. There was no escaping his grip. The effort seemed to tire him,
though. He would give her a reason to settle down.
Master released LindaÕs behind. For a moment she seemed to buck it
up with glee, thinking sheÕd won, showing it off to the world as being free,
her own possession.
WHACK! Master brought his belt down hard. Linda screamed into
SandraÕs cunt. Her face seemed to plow into it more deeply, as if refuge
awaited her there. Her bottom, so nobly free just a moment before, now
reared up with pain.
WHACK! WHACK! A double salute! One for each enchantingly peevish
asscheek. Linda cried into SandraÕs cunny, wetting it for her.
ÒLick, darling, lick! It is not how wet it is, but how it tastes,Ó
Sandra advised. ÒDonÕt try to take a shortcut by simply crying into it.Ó
Master continued his remorseless, blasting assault, and as I watched
I realized that whatever he did to Linda would probably have to be done by
LindaÕs husband to me! He seemed to savor the blows. They relieved him
of thinking about his own agonized organ.
Suddenly I leaped up. Stumbling across the room in my new boots,
my hands bound firmly behind my back and my mouth gagged, I approached
the trio. My big boobies bounced freely, the only part of me that wasnÕt
restrained. I dropped to my knees beside Linda. Through my gag I begged
her to lick as ferociously as possible. If only to spare my own bottom!
I felt rough male hands in my hair, at the back of my head. My
master! Would he punish me? Certainly IÕd not been given permission to
rise from my seat at the table. Ah! He undid my gag. It fell down around
my neck, half buckled still, but loose enough for my mouth to be free of it.
A second collar. It could be replaced any time.
ÒLick! Lick!Ó I cried, and drove my face in beside Linda, fighting to
get at SandraÕs pussy. Linda howled as another searing stroke of the belt
assailed her. I was spared, for my own ass was reserved, I knew, for
LindaÕs husband. To spare myself I licked like an earnest doggie at
SandraÕs cunt. Master walloped LindaÕs tender hiney again. From the
corner of my eye I spotted it in a mirror. It was rapidly approaching the
color of a ripe tomato. Linda waggled it about as if begging someone to
pick it, but no one came. Like an over-ripe tomato it would soon be, left
outside in the burning heat of the midday sun.
ÒYou taste like honey!Ó I cried suddenly, triumphantly to Sandra.
When I looked up I saw that her nipples were like coral, poking hard into
her party dress. Her face was uptilted, passionate.
ÒYes! Yes, I must,Ó was all she could say, moaning it out. Mistress
was almost our slave now, and ruthlessly master made it so by grabbing
both myself and Linda by our hair and yanking us back from her.
ÒShe must not cum,Ó Master said gruffly to us, as if weÕd been
disobedient in the first place for licking her!
Kitty had watched all with ravenous eyes. The girls had settled back
into their seats around the table, but Kitty rose boldly now. Sleeking her
hands down her thighs she looked over at the men for permission. They
nodded. She smiled. A catÕs thankyou.
Casual in her indian-wear, her little beads jangling prettily, Kitty
came over to Sandra. Politely she knelt and eased SandraÕs legs fully
apart. With one little lick she tasted her.
Òmmmm,Ó Kitty said. She smiled, her lips wet, turned her head back
over her shoulder toward the men. ÒMay I have more?Ó she asked.
ÒNot now, not now,Ó a man replied. He seemed mesmerized by her
lioness qualities. She was the lioness king. His penis quaked with desire.
He longed to let her romp and roam over him, master him. I guessed he
must be the man who married her. Or perhaps not. Perhaps he was another
man, moved by her performance. We were all advertising here, I supposed,
showing off our best parts in the living room, for later copulations in the
bedroom. Cocks might be put to pussies all, or not, and who did whom
first was being decided right now. Which did I like best? My mind fled
from the question. Could I really be about to embark on a night of
passionate, unbridled Fucking? I had no experience of it. New phalanxes
of butterflies took off in my tummy. I stared at the big organs, arranged
like cannons ready to fire, across the room. Their owners saw me staring,
smiled back at me like Cobras waiting to strike.
Trying to recover herself, Sandra straightened her dress, pulled on
its hem. She went to a shelf and picked up a brush. With light strokes she
glossed her hair, tidied it. She placed the brush back down, delicately, as
if intending to use it more later, perhaps for other purposes.
When she returned to the table, Sandra picked up a teddy-bear shaped
bottle of honey. She seemed to have a new use in mind for it, though
previously we had all used it to sweeten our tea. What else could one do
with honey?
Sandra urged us to our feet. ÒCome, dears, lets visit a bit with the
menfolk,Ó she urged. She guided us before her across the room. In front of
the men we lined up, shivering in our nudity, yet all dressed and undressed
still in our party costumes.
ÒHereÕs something to get you started,Ó Sandra said to me, and pushed
the bottle of honey right up against my pubic hair. She squeezed the
plastic bottle, it squirted. Honey besmirched my carefully groomed dell. I
gasped. Sandra turned me round and ordered me to bend over. I bent,
trembling. I put my wrists to the front of my boots. I was in some new
P.E. class, doing toe-touches for what purpose I knew not.
ÒOh!Ó I gasped. The tip of the squirt bottle found my virgin anus and
violated it. In it went, penis like, and when lodged within my clenching
tightness it released its cargo. ÒOoooh!Ó Honey shot up my ass. I turned
my head round, gawping with embarrassment at Sandra, the men. How
foolish I felt! Getting honey squirted up my asshole? This was silly,
ridiculous. And so very, very naughty! What would the 911 people think of
this? It would make sky-high ratings on AmericaÕs Most Wanted.
For good measure Sandra gave me another shot, a long one, seeming
to relish the fact that she was the first to deflower my hiney. ÒYou may
rise, dear,Ó she said finally, reluctantly. I stood, turned about slowly,
cheeks clenching, embarrassed to face my audience. The men grinned at
me. They would see me do this and much else tonight, I feared.
Each girl was honeyed in turn, Kitty at last doing Sandra herself. We
looked pretty, I thought, with our sticky dells, such obvious
advertisements for love. Mistress admired her handiwork, glanced at the
men for approval. They nodded, delighted.
ÒYou must eat now, girls,Ó Mistress said. ÒBut before you do I want
you to see where youÕll go potty. Number one, of course, can be done into
any convenient receptacle, perhaps into a naughty girlÕs mouth who
complains too much,Ó Sandra said, giving Linda a significant glance. ÒBut
for number two we have a special place. Come!Ó
ÒOh! I shall be glad to see it,Ó Linda prattled to Rose. ÒThat honey
makes we want to poop right now!Ó In stately procession we followed
Sandra out into the garden, still looking awesome in our boots and gloves
and other finery, despite the erotic torments weÕd already endured. The
men followed eagerly, Snoop Doggy Dogs all, their snouts eager to probe
our shitholes.
With clenching bottoms we stood in the brightly lit garden. I
imagined it was bright as day out here. And, no doubt, a police helicopter
might come by anytime, though whether they would think they saw me
would be another matter entirely. TheyÕd see a wealthy womanÕs garden,
enclosed from all but the sun and peeping toms, and adults at play. A sight
to behold, surely, but not a place to go looking for underage girls. Just to
violate the sanctity of the garden would probably roust O.J.-calibre
lawyers.
And there, sitting nonchalantly before us, was what Sandra now
described as Òour potty.Ó Sitting out in the open, for any bird, perhaps, to
use also. It was a simple white chair, with a seat of horizontal wood
slats. With wooden arms, and a wooden back.
ÒYou will sit facing the back of the chair, of course,Ó Sandra said.
ÒPut your legs through the arms of the chair. And then poop out, your ass
sticking off the end of the chair. Your shit will plop into the reflecting
pool.Ó Sandra bent down daintily, looking smashing in her party dress even
as she described such a lewd, base act. She slid back a cover and there,
sparkling in the light, was a deep reflecting pool about two feet across,
with tropical fish swimming in it. ÒItÕs deep as a well, and your turds
will float to the bottom and fertilize the lush plants growing there,Ó
Sandra said. ÒDonÕt worry any about the fish. ItÕs rather fun, actually, to
see if you can bop one of them with a turd. But you canÕt pollute the
water. The wellÕs too deep for that, and my husband and I only use this for
parties. ItÕs a party potty.Ó
A party potty?! IÕd never heard of such a horrid thing! Defecating
outside, in the bright sunshine, where any enquiring neighbor boy might be
peeping in with his face hidden in the hedgerows that towered about? It
was a protected garden, yes, with encircling walls made of brick and
mortar, and hedges rising above even them, but high school boys were
known for overcoming such obstacles! Even a few men, perhaps, might be
watching us now, even photographing us! Secretly I wished they might be,
so that the police might come and rescue me. Yet, to have pictures of me
passed around, or shown on T.V., pooping in a backyard garden?
Alas! I felt my own bowels tremble. Surely I did not have to go
potty just yet? CouldnÕt I hold it? Please, God, let me not go again until I
was safely home!
Behind us a man lifted a metal cover from a grill. I turned, smelling
hot dogs. The man, LindaÕs husband it was, I think, speared a hotdog and
dropped it into -- No!
Near the grill, arrayed before a splendid low wall where poinsettias
grew, were five doggie bowls. Each one had a name painted on it. I saw
mine there: Lisa. Before the bowls, covering the rough concrete of the
backyard patio where we stood, was a downy-soft beach towel. There
were several in fact, one on top of another in layers, to protect the knees
of doggies who might kneel before the bowls to feed in them.
And now, with great relish, LindaÕs husband plunked two hotdogs into
each bowl. ÒLisa, do you prefer mustard on yours, or ketchup?Ó he asked
me.
ZINE REVIEWS
by holy joe
The Man with the Cape #1, 50¢ Minicomic, 16 pgs., grape cover. Brian
Kirk, 93 Sunapee St., Springfield, MA 01108. mootcomics@aol.com
Review: WhereÕs the Comics Code when we need it? This
publication features its hero, The Man with the Cape, sitting on a toilet!
Imagine if our precious children were to see Superman sitting on the
toilet? Does the Man of Steel poop out steel turds? How does the
plumbing handle it? Does he get diarrhea when heÕs afflicted by
kryptonite? What happens when Superman fucks Lois? How does he
keep his steel penis from ripping her guts out?
These and many other disturbing questions are happily avoided by
the mainstream comics press, but I guess some small-timers will
stoop to any level to get attention.
At first I thought this booklet was a biography of Bill Clinton. Its
story is titled, ÒFrom the Sewer it Shall Rise.Ó But then I saw that its
main character, The Man with the Cape, was flying through the air. And
I knew olÕ Bill, puffing around the block in his shorts, couldnÕt manage
to get his ass into the air (absent some help from Tim McVeigh).
Once I finally got my mind straight, I was deeply impressed by
the quality of this comic. The Man with the Cape battles a unique
SuperVillain, The Sewer Sorcerer. He afflicts a city with its own
manhole covers by making them pop off and fly through the air. He even
uses manhole covers for transportation. And he has other powers
besides that, powers I wonÕt even speak of in a nice zine like this.
The story has an excellent ending and many clever and well-
executed jokes along the way. It is followed by a second story, which
features a meteorite on a deadly path toward Earth.
I highly enjoyed this comic and strongly recommend it to anyone
who wants to get something fun in their mailbox. You could spend your
time and money in much less profitable ways than by filling out an
envelope and ordering this comic. (For instance, waiting for Web
pages...)
AND IN THE END...
COULD HOLY JOE WIN?
ÒPollster and third-party advocate Gordon BlackÕs polls show
nearly half of voters are so sick of the two-party system, theyÕll try
anything.Ó - Newsweek, August 19, 1996, pg. 6.
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-Naughty Naked Dreamgirls (Library of Congress ISSN: 1070-1427) is
copyright 1996 and a trademark of Andrew Roller.
-END OF 94 EMISSION