Message-ID: <718eli$9705072220@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Archived-At: <URL:http://www.netusa.net/~eli/erotica/assm/Year97/718>
Path: qz!news.accessus.net!not-for-mail
X-Path-Preload: news.accessus.net preloaded to thwart rogue canceller there
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d
Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam
Approved: <usenet-approval@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded <story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Story-Submission: <story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
From: ROLLER666@aol.com
Subject: FUCK DECENCY 261 Bush League (nnd)
Andrew Roller Presents
FUCK DECENCY
Issue No. 261
Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in
Bush League
Chapter One
"Jack and Jill, Family Circle, Jack and the Beanstalk!" Polly read
aloud from the magazine's covers. "How to Teach your Child to be Safe!"
"How to Teach your Child to Count to Ten!" "The Alphabet Made Easy!"
Polly's voice became more contemptuous as she read off each title and each
article. "Yick! This magazine has a booger on its cover!" Polly declared.
She flounced back to me, letting her schoolgirl dress flip up as high as she
could, swaying her hips most salaciously, letting her bosoms bounce, and sat
back down next to me.
"Polly! Didn't you put on your bra?" I asked her. I hadn't noticed
how bouncy her breasts were until just now.
"Why should I? I'm only 13," Polly snipped. "I'm not supposed to
have breasts this big so why should I wear a bra over them?"
"We're trying to be GOOD, Polly!" I told her. "Please behave so we
can go back to Louis and Andre."
"I don't like Andre anymore," Polly declared. I felt a shiver run
through me as I worried she might turn in Rose. Then she smiled. "I like
Louis," she told me.
"Well, then don't blow it for us," I snapped. Polly was giving me
fits. No bra, won't play her Space Invaders, then won't quit, now saying she
might just decide she doesn't like Rose's castle, even though in the limo
she'd said she wanted to swim naked there forever. "Do you like partying at
Rose's?" I asked her.
"Sort of," Polly replied, considering, playing with her fingers as
if fiddling with them would give her God's answer. "But I certainly don't
like having my bottom spanked!"
"Just be glad you didn't get a weal like me, Polly," I told her.
"Though God knows you deserve them all over your tushy, in my opinion."
"Girls, would you please come with me?" the woman with the granny
glasses suddenly said to us. She was standing just inside the door, and
she'd unlocked it without us hearing her. We both got up, and I saw Polly
move with extra caution lest she wiggle her breasts and let on that she had
no bra.
We were separated. I was taken to a room by myself. I sat down in
another plastic chair to wait, this time with the option of reading
"Children's Playland" if I chose, a dog-eared magazine dated from 1982. It
advised parents that their children should be made to wear "Safety Beepers"
to protect them from strange men.
A head looked in on me as I considered the magazine. A hand,
gnarled with age, passed me a white paper gown. "Please take off all your
clothes and put this on," an old woman told me. Her eyes seemed to regard me
with intense jealousy, as if she would like nothing more than to see me
spayed. I accepted the paper gown. She shut the door and I swallowed.
Then, standing up, I took off the modest clothing I'd so carefully put on.
I was just tying the last of the paper gown's drawstrings over my
front when a woman entered, about Rose's age. She had curly brown hair, long
hair, that she'd bundled efficiently atop her head for her work. She had a
pronounced bust. A stethoscope hung down over her white nurse's jacket, and
I found myself wondering what it would look like just against her skin, cool,
metallic, snaking down between those womanly breasts of hers. At the same
time I felt disappointment that I hadn't been assigned a man to examine me.
But then, I would never be, here, would I? Not at child protective
services.
"Please get on the table," the nurse told me. She laid down her
clipboard and pushed a small wooden platform over to the side of the room's
examining table. Then, as I watched, she drew a pair of cold steel stirrups
out from the end of the table. She inverted the stirrups so that they both
pointed down. "On your belly, please," she told me.
I got on the stool and then pushed myself with my hands up onto the
table. I lay down on it, hesitant in my movements, but finally letting
myself just relax against its hard surface. There was a cushion beneath me
but it was made of such solid, efficient leather that it almost need not have
been there at all, for the good it did me. A simple paper sheet lay drawn
along its surface, pulled from a roller at its head. Just before I'd laid
down the nurse had drawn down the sheet to tear it off from the last
patient's visit. There had been a wet spot on the sheet where I knew my
pussy would lie. Now as I settled into the clean portion of the sheet I
wondered if I'd leave a similar spot when I got up.
The nurse offered me a small pillow and I let her slip it under my
face. Then she lifted my head and set my chin on the pillow and popped a
thermometer in my mouth.
"You have a nice tan. Have you been playing in the sun?" the nurse
asked me. I nodded, holding tight to the thermometer between my lips. She
moved down to my legs and drew them apart. With soft fingers she placed each
of my feet in the downward pointing stirrups. Then she looped a band of
leather around my ankle and tied it. I was not wearing my anklets or
wristlets, or my collar. Those had been left behind, at Rose's. It felt odd
to have the leather tightened around my ankle. I was not used to that part
of my skin being bare, despite spending all weekend nude. Now it was tied up
again, but the leather which bound me now was thin, like a shoelace, and the
nurse tied it so that it made a little bow at the back of my foot. I lifted
my heels a little and found that they were quite immovable, being fixed to
the stirrups now. I was imprisoned again, though for what purpose I knew
not.
The nurse hiked up the back of my paper gown. I felt the air of the
room touch the backs of my thighs and then finally my upswelling rear. The
nurse gasped. "Who did this to your bottom?" she asked. She traced my
red-hued scars with the tip of her finger. I shivered a little. There was a
thermometer in my mouth. She remembered, and plucked it from my lips just as
I reached to take it out myself.
"I-I can't say," I replied. "I don't want to blame anyone. But I
don't want to go home either."
"Oh, my, well, I wouldn't want you to have to go home either," the
nurse answered. But I sensed a bit of amusement in her voice. I had not
said my dad did this to me, or my mom. Did she think they did, or did she
know better? "Let me get some lotion to put on your poor hiney," the nurse
told me. She read my thermometer. "Well, your temp's okay," she told me.
"About your fanny, there's a best way to do it and the ordinary way," she
said.
"Yes?" I asked. I looked up at her with innocent eyes. I was doing
okay so far. No questions I'd had to lie about, and she seemed to have moved
on to just healing me now, like a real doctor, not worrying about my injuries
came about but only how to make them better.
"If I put--" She seemed slightly flustered. She touched a hand to
her hair, then to the topmost button on her vest, where her collar suddenly
seemed to be fitted so tightly around her slim neck. "If I put the lotion on
with my fingers that will be okay," she said. "This sounds silly but-- if I
use my nipples, that will be better. It will be softer and won't hurt as
much." She fidgeted with her collar button.
"Okay," I replied.
"Good," she said. "I'm glad you agree." She undid the buttons of
her jacket, letting me watch, still wishing I could have a man doctor
somehow, and wondering how I might ask her, when her jacket popped open and
her breasts burst forth, full and upthrusting and with quivering teats. "I
should wear a blouse and bra but I was in a rush this morning," my nurse
explained. "A demanding boyfriend," she added. I saw teeth marks around the
tips of her breasts but said nothing. Love hickeys, left by her boyfriend to
remind her of his love. Had he suspected she'd show them to a female
patient? My nurse saw me watching and cupped her breasts. Briefly she
looked at her tits. "Yes, it was kind of a rough night," she admitted. Then
she let go of them and they hung very nicely, kind of like gourds, but much
rounder. "Are your breasts okay?" she asked me.
"Yes," I answered. There was a thankful sigh in my voice.
"Good. I'll check them later for you, just to be sure," my nurse
told me. "By the way, since we're going to be somewhat intimate with each
other, showing each other our marks and all, my name's Glenda," she said.
"Mine's Fleury," I replied.
"Yes, I see it on the chart," she nodded, indicating her clipboard,
which lay on the plastic chair now, where I'd been sitting, trying so hard
just a few minutes ago to be as simple and plain and unaffected as possible.
Now I was quite naked and showing my scars, my gown hiked up and my tanned
legs pulled apart and tied off at the ankles in metal stirrups. I was living
a girl's life, I suppose.
My nurse got lotion and, without removing her dress, or any other
part of her clothing, including her neat white nurse's hat, she dribbled
lotion from a small glass bottle onto her nipples. Then, with her nipples
gleaming, she lowered down my table by pressing a switch. She looked like a
doctor preparing for an operation, except she was topless and there were no
tools to cut me with lying about, my cuts already having been inflicted the
night before.
Glenda pressed her fingertips to my paper-sheathed table. She
leaned over my bottom and, in very gentle circular motions, she began
brushing her wet nipples over my heinie.
"Ohhh," I breathed, feeling those prim wet tips trace healing lotion
onto my flaming tushy. She breathed a gentle "oh" of her own, echoing mine.
Was she feeling the healing effects of the lotion upon the teeth marks her
boyfriend had left on her breasts, or was she feeling pleasure at caressing
me? I could not tell. I did not ask.
Whenever she ran short of lotion on the tips of her nipples Glenda
would stop and put more on. Then she would return her soft teats to my ass,
newly wettened, and begin caressing me once more.
"How do you feel?" she asked, after a bit. I turned my head. I let
my cheek snuggle against my pillow.
"Nice," I replied.
"Is your ass starting to feel better?" she asked.
"Mmmm, a little," I replied truthfully, for all the oil, however
carefully it might be applied, would still not take all the sting out of my
bottom. Only time would heal that.
She placed two fingers gently within my bottom crack and vented me.
"Have you been playing with widening yourself?" she asked me.
"Mmmm, a little," I replied again, feeling warm and cared for. It
was nice to have someone so attentive looking after me.
"I only mention that because you seem to have an especially tight
asshole," she said. "Your boyfriend might need to stick something up you to
make you more accessible." She touched my hiney-hole with the tip of her
finger. Secretly I wished she'd use her nipple.
"I've learned to relax it better," I confessed.
"Good," she replied. "Would you like me to help a little? It's
totally 'off the books,' you know, doing something like that, but I had the
same problem myself." Her voice seemed sympathetic.
"Okay," I answered, not thinking about it really, just letting her
do with me as she pleased. Glenda went to a table on which there were cotton
swabs, a syringe, and a speculum, all laid out neatly, just waiting,
waiting... She reached behind the items laid on the table and opened a metal
box. She had to stand on tip-toe to find what she wanted inside it, her
breasts hanging down like ripe fruit, wet at the tips, her tongue lightly
licking her lips. Finally Glenda drew forth a long gleaming dildo, hard
metal steel but with joints in it, as if it might need to bend in certain
places, if enough pressure were applied to it, to accommodate whatever it was
stuck inside of. The dildo was quite thin, but I saw a bladder at the bottom
of it.
"This is called a Devil's Dildo," Glenda told me. She held it aloft
for me to catch sight of and then went to the sink and began running the
water there until it was as cold as she could make it. She filled the
bladder at the base of the dildo with the icy water.
Matter of factly she walked over to me. She showed me the dildo up
close. She squirted lotion onto it, the same as had been used on my bottom,
applying it through the nipple-tip of the small glass bottle until the bottle
was almost empty. "When the dildo is inserted I'm going to squirt ice water
up your rectum," Glenda told me. "The ice water is quite uncomfortable, but
it should help you get more in touch with your asshole. As you can see, the
dildo is quite long, longer than a man's penis, and I'm going to try to get
the whole thing up you. Tell me if I'm hurting you, but don't expect me to
stop unless I actually think it's impossible to go on. I just need feedback
to help you master your sensations, that's all. Okay?" She smiled at me.
"I- I don't want to," I told her quite frankly.
"Play with yourself while I do it," she told me. "It will make it
easier for you and I need to check whether you can have normal orgasms
anyway. Sorry, but no men allowed. This is child protective services, you
understand. I can't break all the rules for you. Just diddle your spot and
see if you can concentrate on your clitty, but remember I'll be getting you
in touch with your backhole all the while, squirting icewater up you as we
proceed so you can feel the entire length of your inner tubing, as one might
say. Would you like a little something to ease your nervousness before I
begin?" I nodded, silently, saying nothing.
Glenda went to the countertop again, where the other instruments
lay. She reached down beneath it and opened what I saw to be a small
refrigerator. There were samples inside it, of blood, urine, feces, each
neatly bottled and packaged and labeled. There was also a freezer
compartment in the fridge. Glenda opened it and took out a tray of ice cubes
and plopped the dildo into it. I shivered, seeing that. It was supposed to
go up my ass in a minute!
Rummaging among the specimen containers, reaching all the way to the
back, Glenda drew out a flask of brandy. She reached up to an overhead
cupboard and got out a medicine cup. Wiping the top of the brandy flask
first, to make sure it was clean, using a medicated sanitary wipe to do it,
she then opened the flask of brandy and poured it into the medicine cup. She
brought it over to me and made me sip it down.
"It doesn't taste too good, because it's partly mixed with castor
oil, but it should still help you relax," Glenda told me. She poured the
brandy between my lips for me.
"Ew, won't it make me go to the bathroom?" I asked her frankly.
"Some, but it's okay. I need you nice and juicy in back because
when we're done with the Devil's Dildo I'm going to give you the biggest
you've ever had. We nurses call it the Master John, because gays sometimes
use it to train their lovers. Start rubbing yourself so you'll be plenty
aroused when it's time for that one," Glenda said. "If you don't mind I'm
going to rub myself a little while you do yourself. May I undress?"
"I don't mind," I replied. I was curious to see her bush, I must
admit, after admiring her bosoms. Anyway, I wasn't exactly hiding anything
from her. Glenda removed her dress and then her panties, leaving just her
stockings and heels on, and her little nurse's hat.
"I hope nobody comes in," Glenda told me. "I locked the door but
some people do have the key. When it's time to put the Master John in you
I'm going to put it on, if it's okay with you. It's too hard to push it in
with my hands."
"Alright," I said. This was getting more demanding every minute.
"Thanks for letting me undress early," she told me. "It is kind of
tough to have that Master John rubbing against my clit if I haven't prepped
myself. It's supposed to have a soft harness but I find it kind of rough,
actually, though I've tried wearing it down and I've used it, of course, on
other girls."
"How many girls do you do this to?" I asked.
"Only the special ones, the ones that need it," she replied...
holy joe's
DUMB 'LIST SERVE' MAIL
As you know, I've had the misfortune of getting subscribed to
various 'list serves.' If you've never had this experience, it is pretty
weird, because all your incoming mail LOOKS like it's for you, even though it
isn't. (After all, the subject headings are written by ordinary people.
They aren't commercial SPAM, which is easier to identify and delete.)
Here's an example of, in my opinion, really dumb 'list serve' SPAM.
Whatever this guy is talking about could be really important, but I'll bet
when I'm lying on my deathbed I won't wish I'd known more about this:
silvia@oasys.dt.navy.mil (Pete Silvia): "I don't know... It seems
to me that I am pretty good at picking up when others are exercising the
function that is my inferior - Ne. My S perceptive system goes "tilt" and I
start looking for exits. :-) Ni usually appears at a pace that I can find
congenial.
"Probably be harder for me to separate Fe and Fi."
Yeah, I'll bet it is. Separating your brain from your ass is
probably difficult too. (Sorry to insult this person, but I didn't ASK to be
on this 'list serve,' or any of the thousands of others that I keep getting
signed up to.)
Please, if you run a 'list serve,' BLOCK the address
'roller666@aol.com' from ever getting on your 'list serve.' Otherwise your
innermost thoughts may be printed in the next issue of FUCK DECENCY, complete
with infantile comments from holy joe!
AND IN THE END...
ATTENTION, EXON!
"Prosperity in this information age can only durably be achieved by
a people living in freedom."
- Former U.S. Secretary of State George Shultz.
-------------------------- 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 Passion'sPlaypen! (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 261 EMISSION
- Shultz: The Commonwealth Club of California, C-SPAM, April 1997.
--
+--------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `------------+
| story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us | story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us |
| Archive site +--------------------+------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ |
\ <URL:http://www.netusa.net/~eli/erotica/assm/> .../assm/faq.html> /